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T,7,/e U 



YOUNG CHp^lAS^Q^dyLN; 

^^£'^ 4 r^ Y ' 

A FAMILIAR ILLUSTRATTON' ■ - - 



THE PRINCIPLES OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



BY JACOB ABBOTT 



REvis}i:b; |!:,Di7'i'ox. •. . ''". \^ . 




^L 


»• ' J » » i ' J ' 


PUBLISHED BY 


THE 


AMERICAN 


TRACT 


SOCIETY 



150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK 



'^EbJOX AND I 
,,., -.xOUNDATlONS^ 

R 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 3ft.V2, by 

PIERCE Sc PARKER, 
in tlie Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



Kisrht of publishing transferred to the American Tract Society. 



INTRODUCTION 



I. OBJECT OF THE BOOK. 

This book is iiitended to explain and illustrate, in a 
simple manner, the principles of Christian duty, and is 
intended, not for children, nor exclusively for the young, 
but for all who are just commencing a religious life, and 
who feel desirous of receiving a familiar explanation of the 
first principles of piety. As it is a fact, however, that 
such persons are generally among the young, that is, from 
fifteen to twenty-five years of age, the work has been 
adapted in its style, and in the character of its illustrations, 
to their mental habits. 

I have, however, looked more toy/ards childhood than 
towards maturity in choosing the form in w^hich I have 
presented the truth, and the narrative or dialogue by which 
I have illustrated it. A young man of twenty-five will 
look back to his boyhood, and understand an illustration 
drawn from one of its scenes, far more easily than the boy 
can look forward to future life, and comprehend and appre- 
ciate allusions to the pursuits of the man. I trust that 
the reader of mature mind, into whose hands this book 
may fall, will excuse this partiality for the young. 

II. STYLE AND LANGUAGE. 
I have made no efibrt to simplify the language. It is 
not necessary to do this even for children. They will 



4 INTFcODUCTION. 

understand the language of maturity easily enough, if the 
logic and rhetoric are theirs. I have attempted, therefore, 
to present each subject in such an aspect, and to illustrate 
it in such a way as is adapted to the young mind, using, 
however, such language as has suggested itself spontane- 
ously. It is a great but a very common error, to suppose 
that merely to simplify diction is the way to gain access 
to the young. Hence, a sermon for children is seldom any 
thing more than a sermon for one?!, with easy words sub- 
stituted for the hard ones. This goes on the supposition 
that the great difficulty is to make children understand 
religious truth. Whereas there is no difficulty at all in 
this. The difficulty is in interesti?ig tliem in it. They 
will understand readily enough, if they are interested in 
the form and manner in which the subject comes before 
them. 

These principles will explain the great number of nar- 
ratives and dialogues and statements of facts which are 
introduced to give vividness to the conceptions of my read- 
ers. Many of these are imaginary — cases supposed for the 
purpose of illustration. "Where this is the case, however, 
it is distinctly stated ; and all those accounts which are 
introduced as statements of facts are strictly true. I am 
not certain but that some individuals may object to the 
number of imaginary incidents which I have thus intro- 
duced. If the principles stated above are not considered 
satisfactory, I must appeal to authority. This book is not 
more full of parables than were the discourses of Jesus 
Christ. I shelter myself under his example. 

III. REQUEST TO PARENTS. 
Every parent knows there is great danger that children 
will run over the pages of a book where narrative and 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

dialogue are introduced to illustrate religious truth, and 
that they will, with peculiar dexterity, find out and read 
all that has the interest of a story, and skij) the rest. 
There will, perhaps, in this volume be less danger from 
this, from the fact that the whole is so intimately inter- 
woven as to render it in most cases difficult to separate. 
A mother can, however, effectually prevent it, if she pleases. 
If her children are young, and she fears this danger, let 
her read the book to them, or let her assign a distinct and 
a limited portion for each reading ; and after it is read, let 
her examine them in it, asking questions in regard to the 
plan and design of the chapter, the circumstances of each 
narrative, and especially the pur^pose for ivhich it is intro- 
duced. This, however, must be done, not in the suspicious 
manner of hearing a lesson which you fear has not been 
learned, but with the winning tone of kindness and con- 
fidence. 

IV. THEOLOay OF THE WORK. 
As to the theology of the work, it takes everywhere for 
granted that salvation is to be obtained through repentance 
for past sin, and trust for forgiveness in the atonement of 
Jesus Christ. It is not, however, a work on theology. It 
is designed to enforce the irracticc, not to discuss the theory 
of religion. Its object is to explain and illustrate Christian 
duty ; but it exhibits this duty as based on those great 
principles in which all denominations of evangelical Chris- 
tians concur. 

V. OTHER BOOKS OF THE KIND. 
There are already several most interesting and useful 
books before the public, whose object is the same with 
this — to give Christian instruction to the young. This 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

work appears not as their rival, but as theii liompanion 
Most young Christians have, in the course of half a dozen 
years, time to read a great many pages ; and as each v^^riter 
discusses different topics, or presents them in new aspects 
and relations, it is well that books of this class should be 
multiplied. If twenty different individuals in various parts 
of our country, whom Providence has placed in such cir- 
cumstances as to interest them particularly in the young, 
would write for them, the books would all be read if they 
were properly written, and would all do good. They would 
be different, if they were the results of the independent 
reflection and observation of the authors, and each would 
cooperate with and assist the others. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 



CONFESSION. 
Introduction — Nature of confession — Case supposed — Story of the boys' diso- 
bedience on the ice — Consequences — Their unhappiness — G-uilt a burden — 
Means of relief — The boy's confession — His conversation with his father — 
Confession of little faults — The torn letter — The anonymous letter — Repa- 
ration compared -with confession — Confession of great crimes — Punishment 
— Story of boys on the ice continued — To parents and teachers — Confession 
a privilege — Depression of spirits — Its remedy — Careless confession — Anec- 
dote — Punishment — An experiment — Story of the dulled tool — Story con- 
tinued — Confession to G-od — Necessity of true repentance — Immediate re- 
pentance — Salvation by Christ, 13 

CHxiPTER II. 
THE FRIEND. 
Story of an infant school — The new scholar — The protector appointed — Quali- 
fications — 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 prisoner 
— The Saviour — The cliild's little difficulties — Human sympathy — The 
murderer's ceU — Sj-mpathy for the guiltj^ — 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 — Strug- 
gling \v'ith temptation — The benevolent teacher — The teacher imagined to 
become a scholar — Howard — Sympathy of Christ — The bruised reed — The 
metaphor of the bruised reed, 32 

CHAPTER III. 
PRAYER. 
The 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 — G-ranting 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 



b' CONTENTS. 

packet — The calm — The Christian traveller — Books and tracts — The long 
passage — The approaching storm — They -watch the light — The storm in- 
creases — Going about — Splitting of the topsail — Danger — Protection never 
certain — Object of prayer in danger — True composure in danger — The 
prayer at sea — Eilects — Sincerity of prayer — Ardor in prayer — All can 
pray who wish to. 
A. difficulty about selfishness — Reply — Invitation to the weary — The prodigal 
— The nobleman — The desk — The father's refusal — Real selfishness- 
Prayer of faith — The morning prayer-meeting — The young Christian's 
difficulty — The mother — Ood decides — A favorable answer to prayer never 
certain — Danger of perversion — The humble teacher — Conclusion — Story 
of the ship concluded — The storm subsides^They arrive safely at Prov- 
inceto-\vn, 50 

CHAPTER IV. 
CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 

Neglecting duty — Injury which this book will do — The disobedient child — The 
message disregarded — The Christian message. 

Story of Louisa — Her character — The evening meeting — Louisa's mterest 
in religion — Conversation with her — Increasing interest — Unwilling to 
yield to Grod — 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 feelings at last, 78 

CHAPTER V. 

ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 

Almost a Christian — Louisa's case a common one — Neglecting duty when it 
is clearly pointed out — Secret causes of continuing in sin — First, procras- 
tination — The student's evening walks — The admission to college — P^esolu- 
tions for vacations ; for senior years ; for future life — Now is the accepted 
time — Second, love of the world — Sacrifices necessary in becoming a Chris- 
tian — Losing a friend ; an enjoyment — Third, fear of the world — Difficul- 
ties foretold by the Saviour — Entire surrender required — Real submission 
— Changing sides — Address to a young man, 91 

CHAPTER VI. 

DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 

Story of the Chinese and the map — Difficulties in all subjects — Astronomical 
difficulties — Difficulties in religion to be expected — Eirst difficulty — At- 
tempt to avoid it — Conversation continued — Second difficulty — Extent of 
the creation — Difficulty — The existence of suffering inexplicable — The 
pirate condemned to die — Accountability — Foreknowledge — Story of father 
and son — Imaginary conversation with an infidel — Answering prayer — 



CONTENTS. 9 

Case supposed — The sick son — Miraculous 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. Perplexi- 
ties of Christians — "Way to avoid them — Plausible reasoning sometimes 
unsafe — Scholars in geometry — Drawing iiiferences — Story of the knights 
and the statue — The shield of brass and iron — One kind of controversy — 
3. Difficulties of children — Children's questions — 4. Difficulties of parents 
and teachers — The school-boy's question — A humble, docile spirit, . 1 06 

CHAPTER VII. 

EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 

The doubting clerk — The unexpected letter — The sick child — Possible mis- 
takes — Men act from reasonable evidence — Evidences of Christianity, His- 
torical, Internal, and Experimental — Illustration — 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 convicted — Points secured on trials — Three points to 
be attended to — Irruption of the barbarians — Old manuscripts — Genuine- 
ness of the Scriptures — Quotations — Illustration — Use made of quotations 
— Paley's Evidences — Necessity for proving the genuineness of the Scrip- 
tures — The original records not remaining — The second point — Opportuni- 
ties of knowing — The housebreaker'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 — Argiunent from prophecy — 
Prophecies — False prophecies — Subject difficult — Were the Christian wit- 
nesses believed ? — Contest ^^dth paganism — Power of truth. 

2. Internal Evidence — Unity of the Scriptures — The Bible a number of 
books — Its single object — The Bible a liistory of Christ — Sacrifices — 
Meaning of sacrifices — Their moral influence — Conclusion of the book — 
Appropriate language — The advent of the Sa-s-iour — Its time and place — 
The Mediterranean sea — Interesting associations — Character of G-od — 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 — Medicine — Proof 
of it — The mother — The mother and her sick son — The unbeliever — Power 
of Christianity — Particular case — Prisons — Old and new system of dis- 
cipline — Stories of the convicts — The disobedient son — Conversation — 
Struggles 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 G-od — W.'s mental sufferings — His prayer — His way of find- 
ing the 51st Psalm — His relief — Close of the convicts' stories — Charlesto^^'n 
state-prison — Old building — Crowded night rooms — Arms — Prison yard — 
Cha-oel — Prisoners going to Sabbath-school — Aspect of the school — Pris- 

1# 



10 ~ CONTENTS. 

oners' 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, 133 

CHAPTER 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 conceptions — Picturing the scene to the mind — Clear con- 
ceptions — 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 — Rewriting 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 Sci-iptures — Plan tried by James and John — Effect of this 
method — Three accounts of Paul's conversion — Advantages of the plan — 
List of lessons — Difficulties to be anticipated — Studying by subjects — The 
Sabbath — Jerusalem — List of topics — Too little intellectaal study of the 
Bible — Object of the liistoric form — E-eading practically — Daily reading 
of the Bible — Useless reading — The apprentice — Reading two verses 
aright, 221 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE SABBATH. 
History of the Sabbath — Change from Saturday to Sunday — Beginning of the 
Sabbath — Idle controversies — A father's command to his boys — The ques- 
tion 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 important — 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 
careful mother — Way to interest children — Conversation with the children 
— Ingenuity and effort necessary — The heart to be reached — Variety — 
Remarks of a clergj^man — Necessity of variety — Religious books — ^Way 

of spending the Sabbath — Various duties — System in religious exercises 

Waste of time prevented — Rest on the Sabbath — Distinct duties to be 
performed — Way to make self-examination interesting and useful — Mi- 
nuteness of self-examination — Prayer — Studying the Bible, and conversa 
tion on the Sabbath — Frivolous conversation — Public worship — Responsi- 
Itility of the hearers— The farmer and his boys— Duty of the hearers to be 
mterested — Sinister motives at church — Way to detect them — Heartless 
worship — Way in which it is indicated — Appearance of evil — The summer 
evening — A walk — Walking, riding, sailing on the Sabbath, . . . 257 



CONTENTS. 11 

CHAPTEE, X. 
TEIAL AND DlSCIPLmE. 

1. 'Nature of Trial — The steam-toat on trial — Efforts of the engineer — Im 
provements — Final results — Her power — Safe and successful action — Life 
a time of trial — Trials of childhood — The cliiid and the forbidden book — 
Commands — Pain — Advantage of trial in childhood — Putting playthings 
out of reach — Conversation with a mother — Trials not to be shunned— 
Instruction and practice — The merchant's plan for his son — A voyage of 
difficulty — Its effects. 

2. The iiscs of Trial — Self-knowledge — The deceived mother — True submis- 
sion distingnished from false — The engineer was watchful — Trial a means 
of improvement — The boy studying division — The moral and arithmetical 
question — Practical directions — God's providence universal — Losses of 
every kind from God — The careless engineer — Neglect of duty — Conclud- 
ing remarks, 294 

CHAPTER XI. 

PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 

1. Moral Improvemeiit — Greneral improvement a Christian duty — Moral 
improvement — Faults — The vain boy — "Way to reform him — Conversation 
wdth his father — Instances of vanity — The boy"s list — Effect of this con- 
fession — 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 — Examples of minute 
confession — The father's letter — Object of this illustration — Faults to bf 
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 — Freedom of feeling and freedom of 
action — Way to mould the heart — Metaphysical controversy^Story of the 
Dulce of Gloucester — Richard's artful plan — The council — Violent meas- 
ures — Murder of the boys — Analysis of the storj^ — Richard's vi-icked char- 
acter — Sense in which character is voluntary — Distinction between charac- 
ter and conduct — Importance of it — floral obligation — "Ways of influencing 
the character — Effect of Christian knowledge — The mother — The child — 
Gratitude — Christian action — "VVhy Howard became interested for prison- 
ers — Paul — Dependence upon the Holy Spirit — An evil heart — Divine 
influence necessary. 

2. Intellectual Improvevieut — A finished education — Object of education — 
1. To strengthen the powers — Robinson Crusoe's supposed experiment 
with Friday — Conic sections — Difficult studies — 2. Acquisition of know- 
ledge — 3. Skill — Three experiments 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^eading — Short works — 2. Conversation — Difficulty 
of cultivating it — !Means of cultivating it — Experiments proposed — Plans 



12 CONTENTS. 

and experiments — Digesting knowledge — 3. Writing — 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 — Variety — Specimens — Reynolds — 
Humboldt — Chronology — Synagogues — History of the Bible — Sir Hum- 
phrey 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 rem.arks to her children — 
Moral aspects of what is seen and heard — Power of the pen, . . . 315 

CHAPTER XII. 
CONCLUSION. 
Responsibility of religious teachers — Injury to be done by this book — Imper- 
fect self-application — A useless way o*" reading, 385 



THE 



YOUNG CHEISTIAN 



CHAPTER 1. 

CONFESSION OP SIN. 
" Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins shall have mercy." 

I "WISH, in this first chapter, to point out to my reader 
something in the nature and effects of coiifession which every- 
one has, perhaps, at some time experienced, but which few 
sufficiently consider — I mean, its influence in giving relief 
to the burdened spirit. But to make myself clearly under- 
stood, I must suppose a case. 

Two boys, on a pleasant winter evening, ask their father 
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." 

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. 



14 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

Presently a plan is formed 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 effect 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 
abruptly stop. They fall a little in the rear, and see whirl- 
ing through the bend of the river the whole crowd of their 
companions — and, after a moment's hesitation, they follow 
on. The spot once passed, 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 oft^ their 
skates and step upon the firm ground, and walk towards 
their home. 

The enjoyment is now over, and the jnmi^ihment 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 v/ill 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 pun- 
ishment which God will inflict in another world upon undu- 
tiful children. I mean another quicker punishment, 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 of conscience. 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 15 

As the boys approach their father's dwelhiig, unless their 
consciences have become seared by oft-repeated transgres- 
sions, their hearts are filled Avith uneasiness and foreboding 
care. They walk slowly and 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 ]Dreier going to another room, 
or in some other way avoiding his presence. Their sister 
perhaps, in the gayety and kindness of her heart, tries to 
talk with them about their evening's enjoyment, but they 
wish to turn the conversation. In a word, they have done 
ivrong, their peace 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. 

They next morning they awake with the customary 
cheerfulness of youth, until, as they look forth from their 
windov/, they see the clear, ice-bound stream which tempted 
them to sin, ^^dnding 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 object at 
all connected ^^ijth their transgression awakens the remorse 
which destroys their happiness. Thus they carry about 
with them a wearisome and heavy burden. 

I suppose that in such cases most boys would continue 
to bear this burden ; until at last they should become insen- 
sible to it, that is, until conscience is seared. But though 
by habit hi sin the stings of remorse may be blunted, yet 
peace never returns thus. By repeating transgression a 
great many times, we all come at last to feel a general and 
settled uneasiness of heart, which is a constant burden. 



16 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 imiforrn and constant, 
that he comes to consider it at last as a necessary part of 
his existence. He has no knowledge of what pure peace 
and happiness are. A man who has lived long by a water- 
fall, at last becomes so habituated to the noise, that silence 
seems a strange luxury to him. So multitudes, who have 
had an unquiet conscience for many years, without a single 
interval of repose, when they at last come and confess their 
sins, and find peace and happiness through faith in Christ, 
are surprised and delighted with the 7iew and strange sen' 
sation. 

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 generally 
understood and practised. 

Suppose one of these boys should say to himself, some 
day as he is walking alone, " I am not happy, and I have 
not been happy since I disobeyed my father on the ice. And 
no wonder, for I did very wrong. How kind he has always 
been to me, and how ungratefully I acted. He was right 
in forbidding us to go up the river, and I was very foolish 
and wicked to go. I have suffered more in consequence of 
it, than ten times as much pleasure would be worth ; and if 
I had been drowned it would not have been strange. I am 
resolved to go and confess the whole to my father, and ask 
him to forgive me." 

Having resolved upon this, he seeks the very first oppor- 
tunity to relieve his mind. He is walking, we will imagine, 
by the side of his father, and for several minutes he hesi- 
tates, not knowing how to begin. At last, however, he 
makes the effort, and says in a sorrowful tone, 

" Father, I have done something very wrong." 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 17 

" What is it, my son ?" 

He hesitates and trembles, and alter 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 Uxo, that you have not been happy, and you are evidently 
unhappy now. I know that you must have done something 
wrong. But you may do as you please about telling me 
what it is. If you are truly sorry for it, and freely confess 
it, you may have peace of mind again ; if not, you will con- 
tinue to sufier. Now you can do as you please." 

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

"Yes." 

" Well, I disobeyed you, and went on a part of 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 there is not a child among the hundreds and perhaps 
thousands who will read this chapter, who does not fully 
understand, that by such a confession the boy will relieve 
himself of a burden, and go away from his father with a 
lighter and happier 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 having his heart sink 
within him as before, under a sense of guilt ; while all the 
time, perhaps, his brother, who would not come and ac- 
knowledge his sin, has his heart still darkened, and his coun- 
tenance made sad by the gloomy recollection of unforgiveu 
sin. 

So true are the words of Solomon, that "he that cover- 
eth his sins shall not prosper ; but whoso confesseth and 
forsaketh them shall have mercy." We are so formed, that 



18 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

when we have done wrong we cannot feel -at peace again 
until we have acknov»4edged our wrong to the person against 
whom it was done. And this acknowledgment relieves us 
of a burden as certainly as fire removes cold, or as water 
extinguishes fire. It operates in all cases, small as well as 
great. And yet how slovvdy do young persons, and even old 
persons, learn to use this means of gaining relief from the 
burdens that press on the mind. The remedies for almost 
every external evil are soon discovered, and are at once 
applied ; but the remedy for that uneasiness which results 
from having neglected some duty or committed some sin, 
and which consists in penitent confession of it to the person 
injured, and to God, how slowly is it lea,rned, 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 
arrival, in attempting to take the letter out of his pocket 
suddenly, he tore it completely in two. He was ui conster- 
nation. What to do he did not know. He did not dare to 
carry 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, doubtmg and waiting, 
and feeling anxious and unhappy whenever it came in his 
sight. At last he thought that this was folly ; he took the 
letter and carried it to the person to whom it v/as addressed, 
saying, 

" 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 not he think of it 
before?" 

I know it was a simple way. The whole story is simple, 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 19 

but it is true, and it exactly illustrates the idea I am en- 
deavoring to enforce, namely, that in little things, as well 
as in great things, the cojifcssion of sin gives relief to the 
onind. 

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

A merchant was one morning sitting in his counting- 
room, preparing for the business of the day, when his clerk 
entered with several letters from the post-office. Among 
them was one in a strange handwriting and with the words 
"Money inclosed" Avritten upon the outside. As the mer- 
chant was not at that time expecting any money, his atten- 
tion was first attracted to this letter. He opened it, and 
read somewhat as follows : 

" , January 4, 1831. 

" Sir — 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 m this letter. Hoping that God v/ill forgive this and 
all my other sins, 

"I am, yours, 



I remarked that this case was totally different from all 
the oth-ers in one respect. Reader, do you notice. the differ- 
ence ? It consists in this, namely, that here not only was 
the sin confessed, but reparation ivas made. The man not 
only acknowledged the fraud, but he paid back the money. 
And if any of my readers are but little acquainted with 
human nature, they may perhaps imagine that it was the 
reparation, 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 of 
writing the above letter, had just come into the store and 



^0 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

asked to buy some article or other, and in paying for it, had 
managed dexterously to put into the hands of the 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. Do 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 M^as incomplete. 
The reparation was perfect, but the acknowledgment was 
not. The reader wdll observe that the letter has no name 
signed to it, and the merchant could not by any means dis- 
cover who was the writer of it. Now if the man had hon- 
estly told the whole, if he had written his name and place 
of residence, and described fully all the circumstances of the 
origmal fraud, he would have been much more fully relieved. 
All confession which is intended to brmg back peace of mind 
when it is gone, should be opeii and thorough. There are, 
indeed, many cases where, from peculiar circumstances, 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 wiU be the 
restoration 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 
punishments, after endurmg 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 ignommious pubhc punish- 
ment, in exchange for the inward tortures of remorse. Even 



CONFESSIOJT OF SIN. 2] 

a murderer has been known to come forward to relieve the 
horrors of his soul by confession, though he knew that this 
confession would chain him in a dark stone cell, and after 
a short but gloomy interval, bring him to the gallows. 

My reader, you can try the power of confession, and en- 
joy 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 comiected with confession ; I 
mean punishment. Sometimes, as I before remarked, when 
a person confesses some wrong, he brings himself under the 
necessity of repairing the injury done, and at other times of 
submitting to punishment. Parents often forgive their chil- 
dren Avhen they have done wrong, if they will only confess 
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 wrong, 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 
perfectly innocent. 

I should think, on this account, that the father whose 
sons had disobeyed him on the ice, would be much at a loss 
to know what to do, after one of his boys had so frankly 
acknowledged 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 by about it. In the meantime, 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 effectually 
from domg ^vrong in future." 

When the father is left 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 



'12 THE YuUiVG- CHIilSTIAN. 

my eldest disobeyed also. The youngest only- spoke of him- 
self ; shall I ask him ? No. Each shall stand on indepen 
dent 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 wliich is already 
acknowledged, I am afraid that my son will the next time 
yield more easily to temptation, thinking that he has only to 
acknowledge it to be forgiven. Shall I forbid his skating 
any more this winter, or for a month; or shall I require 
him, every time he returns, to give me an exact account 
where he has 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 Christian principle, and 
not of mere parental feehng, he would probably do something 
more than merely pass it by. The boy would find that con- 
fession to such a father is not merely nominal ; that it brings 
with it inconvenience, or deprivation of enjoyment, or per- 
haps positive punishment. Still, he would rejoice in the 
opportunity to acknowledge his sins ; for the loss of a little 
pleasure, or the suffering of punishment, he would feel to be 
a very small price to pay for returning peace of conscience, 
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 with their children and their pupils. Meet 
them kindly when they come forward to acknowledge their 
faults. SpTipathize with them in the struggle 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 punishment which you inflict, 
be sure the 2^reve?tHon of future guilt is your motive, and 
not the gratification of your own present feeling of dis- 



OUNFESSION OF SIN. 23 

pleasure. If this is doi.e, those under your care will soon 
value confession as a privilege, and will often seek in it a 
refuge from inward sufTering. 

Yes, an opportunity to acknovvdedge wrong of any khid 
is a gvesit 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 experunent the correctness of 
these principles. Almost every person has at all times some 
little sources of uneasiness upon liis mind. They are not 
very well defined m their nature and cause, but still they 
exist, and they very much disturb the happmess. Now, if 
you look within long enough to seize hold of and examine 
these feehngs of secret uneasiness, you will find that, in al- 
most every case, they are connected with sometlmig ivrong 
which you haA^e done. That anxious brow of yours then is 
clouded with remorse ; we call it by soft names, as care, 
solicitude, perplexity, 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 dis- 
charge, or inclinations which you habitually indulge when 
you know they ought to be denied. Conscience keeps up, 
therefore, a continual murmur, but she murmurs so gently 
that you do not recognize her voice, and yet it destroys 
your rest. You feel restless and unha,ppy, and Avonder what 
can be the cause. 

Let no one now say, or even suppose, that I think that 
all the depression of spirits wliich exists in human hearts is 
nothing but a secret sense of guilt. I know that there is 
real solicitude about the future, unconnected with remorse 
for the past ; and there is often a smking of the spirits in 
disease, which moral remedies will not touch. These cases 
are, however, comparatively few. A far greater proportion of 
the restlessness and of the corrodinjr cares of human hearts 



24 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

is produced, or at least very much aggravated, "by "being con- 
nected 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 endeavoring to make them tend. I 
hope, however, that there are some who are reading really 
and honestly for the sake of moral improvement. To those 
I would 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 de- 
stroys, 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 nme 
cases out of ten, that their cause is somethmg tvrong in 
your own conduct or character. Young persons will genei 
ally find something wrong towards their parents. Now go 
and confess these faults. Do not endeavor to palliate or 
excuse them, but endeavor, on the contrary, to see their 
worst side ; and if you confess them freely and fully, trust- 
ing in the merits of Christ for forgiveness from God, and 
resolving to sin no more, peace will return. 

After I had written thus far, I read these pages to a 
gentleman who visited me, and he remarked, that before I 
closed 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 V 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 25 

" * 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, ma,' said the boy, as he ran capering about the 
room, striking the furniture and his little 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 or improve the heart. 

Tliis anecdote shows the necessity of so?ne punishment 
m 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 
often disobey, expecting to make peace by confession as a 
matter of course ; and the confession will thus not only be- 
come a useless form, but v.dll become the very lure which 
tempts them to sin. 

A teacher once made a rule, that if any irregularity oc- 
curred in any of the classes, the assistant Avho heard the class 
v/as to send the person in fault to him. At first the pupils 
felt this very much. One and another would come with 
tears in their eyes to acknowledge some fault, although it 
was perhaps only a very slight one. The teacher inflicted no 
punishment, but asked them 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 fault as carelessly as if they were merely giving 
their teacher a piece of indifierent information. No ; con- 
fession must never be understood as making any atonement 
for sin. "Whenever you acknowledge that you have done 
wrong, do it with sincere penitence, looking to Christ for 

Y. Ohristisn. 2 



26 THE YOUNf.T CHRISTIAN. 

pardon — ready to make all the reparation in your power, if 
it i-s a case which admits of reparation — to submit to the 
just punishment, if any is inflicted — and always resolving 
most firmly, that by the aid of divine grace, you will sin 
\]o more. 

Let all my readers, then, whether old or young, look at 
once around them, and seek dihgently for every tiling wrong 
wliicli they have done towards their fellows, and try the 
experiment of acknowledgmg the VvTong hi every case, that 
they may see how much such a course v»411 brmg peace and 
happiness to their hearts. When, however, I say that every 
tiling wrong ought to be acknov/ledged, I do not mean that 
it is, in every case, necessary to make n, formal confession in 
language. Acknowledgments may be made by actions as 
distinctly and as cordially as by worcls. An example will 
best illustrate this. 

A journeyman m a carpenter's shop borrowed a plane of 
his comrade, and in giving it back to him, it v/as acciden- 
tally dropped and dulled. The lender maintahied 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 havmg once contended 
about it, each was determined not to yield. The plane was 
laid down in its damaged state, each declaring that he would 
not sharpen it. 

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

On the followmg morning, therefore, he went half an hour 
earlier than usual to the shop, and while alone there, with 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 27 

the help of grindstone and hone, he put the unfortunate plane 
in the best possible order, laid it in its proper place, and ^vhen 
his companion came m, said to liim pleasantly, 

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

jNTow was not tliis a most full and complete acknowledg- 
ment of having been wrong ? And yet there is not a sylla- 
ble of confession in language. Any way by Avhich you can 
openly manifest your conviction that you have done A\Tong, 
and your determination to do so no more, is sufficient. The 
mode best for the purpose will vary with circumstances : 
sometimes by words, sometmies by writuig, and sometimes 
by action. The only thing that is essential is, that the 
Jtea'rt should feel what ui 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 desu'e 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. His Spirit has 
convinced you of sin, of righteousness, and of a judgment to 
come. You feel that you are a smner against God ; that 
the greatest of all your transgressions have been against him, 
and that your heart and life are full of guilt, so that you 
deserve to be eternally banished from his favor. You feel the 
keenest sorrow at the thought of the inefiable goodness and 
excellence of Him against whom you have siimed, and you 
cannot rest till 3'ou receive his gracious forgiveness. 

It matters little by what means your mind has been led 
to this point. Perhaps it was a sense of the unhapjyiness 
Vv'hich guilt brings upon the heart, as in the case above sup- 
posed, that first put you upon thinking of the evil nature of 
sin, so that now you turn from it with abhorrence, and de.=ire 
above all things to be free from it. Perhaps it was a terror 
of the icrath to come that first aroused you. Or it may be, 
that in the fulness of vour ioy at receivinsr some great and 



28 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

unexpected blessing in life, God led you to reflect with new 
emotions on the number and magnitude oi" his gifts, and your 
own unworthiness ; and thus the goodness, of God has led 
you to repentance. Or, as you mingled with the people of 
God in the house of prayer, he blessed you with such a view 
of the glorious beauty of his Iwliness, as carried you captive 
with delight and love, and at the same time made you abhor 
yourself, and repent in dust and ashes. The Spirit of God 
has many Avays of bringing the soul to the footstool of mercy, * 
a sincere penitent ; but in some way or other he must do it, 
or we are lost. The Bible addresses every man as a guilty 
wanderer from God, ready to perish ; and even a child can 
Bee that we can never be in a right state, and of course not 
in a safe or happy state, without a penitent and thorough 
forsaking of sin. This penitence, if true, will spring not so 
much from a sense of the ill consequences of sin, as I'rom a 
view of the goodness and holiness of our heavenly Father, 
and the manifold guilt of sin against him. 

I have no doubt that this is the state of mind of many of 
those who will read this chapter ; and the question, " How 
shall I find the way to my heavenly Father?" is one in 
which you feel a deep concern. The answer to this inquiry 
is, return, like the prodigal son, with penitent, broken-hearted 
co7ifession : ' ' Father, I have sinned against heaven and in 
thy sight, and am not worthy to be called thy son." Con- 
fession of sin is the same in its nature and tendency when 
made to God as Avhen made to your fellow-man. When you 
have finished this chapter, then, shut the book, go alone be- 
fore your Maker, and search out, reflect upon, and penitently 
acknowledge all your sins. Acknowledge them frankly and 
fully, and try to see and feel the worst, not by merely calling 
your ofiences by harsh names, but by calmly looking at the 
aggravating circumstances. While you do this, do not spend 
your strength in trying to feel strong emotion. You cannot 
feel emotion by merely trying to feel it. There is no neces- 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 29 

sity of prolonged terror, no need of agony of body or of mind, 
no need of gloom of countenance. Go, and sincerely ac- 
knoidedge your sins to God, praying him to forgive you 
through the death and merits of ChrLst. 

But perhaps some of you will 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 feelhig of this kind. There is terror 
and agony of mind, and afterwards the mdividual becomes a 
shicere Christian." 

It is true, there is sometimes strong and continued agita- 
tion ; nor is any possible degree of distressing fear, self-re- 
proach, or sorrow unreasonable in one who has been brought 
to reahze that he is so guilty as to be worthy only of hell, 
and that he can be saved from it by nothing less than the 
precious blood of Christ. Such agonizing emotions, however, 
are not requisite to sincere penitence, and can do nothing 
towards atoning for sin. The amazing change by which a 
sinner passes from death to life, is often wrought with a gen- 
tleness peculiar to omnipotent grace ; and the soul is scarcely 
conscious of fear or remorse, in the fulness of love, joy, and 
gratitude with which it hastens to Christ. 

There is often, however, a continued distress of a very 
different kind : not the sorrow of humble, broken-hearted 
penitents grieving over their sins, but the struggle of impen- 
itent souls convicted of their guilt, yet unwilling to yield to 
God and confess their sins to him. As soon as this unwill- 
ingness is gone, and they come to their God and Saviour 
with all their hearts, the mental sufiering vanishes. I said, 
that if you were willmg now to confess your sins to God with 
sincere penitence, you might at once be happy. Of course, 
if you are unwilling, if you see that you are sinning against 
him, and will not come and make peace, you then have 
indeed cause to tremble. 

The truth is, that God commands " men everywhere to 



30 ' THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

repent." It is a notorious fact, that multitudes 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 contmue in sin, that a very painful struggle contin- 
ues for some time. jNTow this struggle is all our own fault ; 
it is something that ive add altogether ; and it is displeas' 
ing to God. He says, come to me at once. Ministers of the 
gospel do not urge this contmued struggle, while sin is cher- 
ished in the heart : so far from desiring it are they, that they 
urge their hearers to repent and come at once to the Saviour, 
and be happy ; and when any of their hearers are suffering 
in consequence of indecision, the pastor, so far from washing 
them to continue in this state, urges them with all his power 
to terminate it at once, by giving up their hearts to God and 
to happuiess. And yet, so reluctant are men to give their 
hearts to God, and so exceedmgly common is this guilty 
struggle, that by the young it is often considered as a painful 
part of duty. They confound it with a just and needful 
sorrow for sin, and think they cannot become Christians 
without it. Some try to awaken it and continue it, and are 
sad because they cannot succeed. Others, who are serving 
their Maker, and endeavoring to grow in grace and to pre- 
pare for heaven, feel but little confidence in his sympathy or 
affection for them, because just before they found peace with 
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 necessity of any prolonged 
struggle or suffering. If the Spirit of God has led you sin- 
cerely to deplore your si7is, 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, 
namely, reparation and punhhment. In confessing sins to 
God, we have no reparation to make to him, and no punish- 
ment to suffer. We have a Saviour, and we fly to him. 



CONFESSION OF SIN. 3] 

We have destroyed ourselves by sin, and we cannot be saved 
but by the unmerited grace of God as displayed in the aton- 
ing sacriiice of our Lord Jesus Christ. " Him hath God set 
forth as a propitiation, through faith in his blood, to declare 
his righteousness : that he might be just, and the justilier of 
hira that believeth in Jesus." E,om. 3 : 20-26. There is 
no other way of salvation. Ko obedience or suhering of ours 
can atone for transgression. Christ has sufiered for us, and 
will save us if we go to hira. I hope very many of my 
readers will see that both duty and happiness urge them to 
take the simple course I have endeu,vored to describe and 
illustrate, and that they will now be led to take it, and fol- 
low me through the remainmg chapters of this book with 
hearts bent on loving and serving God. 



IHE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 



CHAPTER 11. 

THE FRIEND. 
" To whom shall we go ?" 

There is a very excellent infant-school in one oi' the 
chief towns of Switzerland, where many young children are 
collected under the care of a most kind and faithful superin- 
tendent, to receive moral and intellectual instruction. When 
a new pupil is admitted, she looks with fear and trembling 
upon the strange scene before her. A large open room is 
filled with the children standing in rows or collected in busy 
groups, and in the pleasant play-ground, verdant with grass 
and trees, many others are seen full of activity and hap- 
piness. 

It is the custom, whenever a new scholar enters the 
school, for the teacher to collect all the children in the great 
room, extending them in a line around it ; and then he walks 
into the midst, leading the little stranger by the hand, and 
something like the following conversation ensues. 

Teacher. " Here is a little girl who has come to join 
our school. She is a stranger, and is afraid. Will you all 
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 
good girl and to do her duty, but sometimes she will forget, 
I am afraid, and sometimes she will yield to temptation 
and do ^vrong. l^ow which of the older children will be 
lier little friend, to be v/ith her for a few days till she 
becomes acquainted with the school, and tell her what she 
ought to do, and help her to watch herself, that she may 
avoid doing wrong?" 

Several voices at once : " I will, I will, sir." 



THE FE-iEXD. 33 

The teacher then selects from those who thus volunteer, 
one of the best and oldest children, and constitutes her the 
friend and protector of the stranger. They are together 
wherever they go. A strong mutual attachment sprmgs up 
between them. If the stranger is injured in any way, the 
protector feels aggrieved : kindness shown to one touches 
almost as eflectually the other, and thus the trembling 
stranger is guided and encouraged, and led on to duty and to 
strength by the influence of her protector, though that pro- 
tector is only another child. 

AYe all need a 'protector, especially in our moral interests. 
The human heart seems to be formed to lean upon something 
stronger than itself for support. AYe are so surrounded with 
difficulties and temptations and dangers here, that we need 
a refuge in which we can trust. Children find such a pro- 
tector and such a refuge in their parents. How much safer 
you feel in sickness, if your father 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 window ght- 
ters 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 
mature he can find no earthly protector. He must go alone, 
unless he has a friend above. We should have needed such 
a friend even if we v»"ere not a fallen race ; but now, the 
true friend of man must be the unners friend. Yfe are all, 
young and old, in perishing need of one who can deliver us 
from the dreadful penalty of sin, and extricate us from its 
fatal dominion. 

AYe should wish a protector and friend to possess two 
distinct qualifications, which it is very difficult to find unit- 
ed : that he should be our superior both in knowledge and 
liower, so that we can confide in his protection ; and yet 
lave been in the same circumstances icith ourselves^ that 
he may understand and appreciate our necessities. 



34 THE YOUNG- CHE.1STIAN. 

Now my object in this chapter is, to endeavor to show 
my readers that they need, and that they can have, for their 
safe guidance through life, just such a protector and friend — 
one that has power to save to the uttermost, and yet one 
that knows by his ov/n experience all your trials and cares. 
I know that if any of you go and confess your sins to God, 
and begin a life of piety now, yet you will, without aid from 
above, wander away into sin, forget your resolutions, dis- 
please God more than ever, and more than ever destroy your 
own peace of mind. I wish, therefore, to persuade all those 
who desire to be delivered from sin and death, and henceforth 
to love and serve God, to come now and unite themselves 
in indissoluble bonds with the moral Protector and Friend 
whose character I am about to describe. 

In the epistle to the Hebrews, second chapter and six- 
teenth verse, there occurs the following remarkable pas- 
sage : "For verily he," that is, Christ, "took not on him the 
nature of angels ; but he took on him the seed of Abraham. 
Wherefore in all things it behooved 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 two qualifications named above were united in our Sav- 
iour. He might have come from heaven and died upon 
the cross to make atonement for our sins, w^ithout suffering 
as he did so long a pilgrimage below, as a " man of sor- 
rows, and acquainted with grief" But he came and lived 
here thirty years, tasted of every bitter cup which we 
have to drink, and thus knows by experience all our trials 
and troubles, and is able more effectually to sympathize 
with us and help us. He took not on him the nature of 
angels, but he took on him the seed of Abraham, that is, 
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, namely, potver and syinpathy, and consider how 



THE FiilENL. 35 

seldom they are united. I will give one or tM'o examples 
which may help to illustrate the subject. 

A mother with a large family, and but slender means 
to provide for their w^ants, concluded to send her eldest son 
to sea. She knew that though the toils and labors of a sea- 
faring life were extreme, they could be borne, and they 
brought wdth them many pleasures and many useful 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 shipboard, and 
help him on in the world, if he was diligent and faithful. 

The boy looked with some dread upon the prospect of 
bidding farewell to liis mother, to his brothers and sisters, 
and his quiet home, to explore unknown and untried scenes, 
and to encounter the dangers of a stormy ocean. He how- 
ever bade all farewell, and was soon tossing upon the waters, 
feeling safe under his new protector. He soon found, how- 
ever, that the captain had 'poiuer, but that he had not &yrti- 
loathy. 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 
have taught this necessary part of seamanship in a more 
gentle and gradual manner. He thought the boy ought to 
learn, and his want of sympathy with his feelings led him 
to a course which was severe, and in fact cruel, though not 
intentionally so. 

The captain never spoke to his young charge, except to 
command him. He took no interest in his little concerns. 
Once the boy spent all his leisure time industriously in rigging 
out a little ship complete. " This," thouffht he, " will please 



36 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

the captain. He wants me to learn, and this will sliov/ 
him that 1 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 protector wonld 
have gratified him exceedhigly. But no, the stern weather- 
beaten officer could not sympathize with a child, or appreci- 
ate 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 standing there, " I say, Jack, I wish you 
would clear away a little here : coil those lines — and that 
boy's bauble there, you may as well 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 Avater, and it fast receded 
from view. The boy Avent to his hammock and wept bit- 
terly. His heart Avas Avounded deeply, but the stern cap- 
tain did not knoAV it. Hoav could he sympathize Avitli the 
feelings of a child ? 

And yet this captain Avas the real friend of the boy. He 
protected him in all great dangers, took great care of him 
when in foreign ports, that he should not be exposed to sick- 
ness nor to temptation. When they returned home he rec- 
ommended him to another ship, Avhere, through the captain's 
influence, he had a better situation and higher Avages, and 
he assisted him in A^arious Avays for many years. JNToav this 
boy had a protector who had 'power but not sympathy. 

This boy, however, might have had a friend Avho M'ould 
have sympathized Avith him fully, but who Avould have had 
no poiver. I might illustrate this case also by supposing, 
in the next ship Avhich he should enter, that the captain 
should feel no interest in him at all, but that he should have 



THE FRIEND. 37 

with him there a brother, or another boy of his own age, 
who would be his constant companion and friend, entering 
into all his feehngs, sympathizing Avith him in his enjoy- 
ments and in his troubles, but yet having no power to pro- 
tect him from real evils, or to avert any dangers which 
m.ight threaten. I might suppose such a case, and following 
the boy in imagination into the new scene, I might show 
that sympathy alone is not sufficient. But it is not neces- 
sary to do this. All my readers, doubtless, already fully 
understand the distinction between these two, and the neces- 
sity 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," for " he ever liveth to make intercession for us ;" and 
he can fully sympathize with us in all our trials and cares, 
for he has been upon the earth, suffering all that we have 
to suffer, and drinking of every cup which is presented to 
our lips. He became flesh, that is,- he became a man, and 
dwelt among us ; so that, as the Bible most forcibly and 
beautifully expresses it, *' we have not a high-priest which 
cannot be touched with a 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 d^velt among us, learning, in his own 
slow and painful experience, ivhat 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 such little difficulties and trials 
as you are. He has gone through the whole, from infancy 
upward, and he does not forget. You may be sure, then, 
that he is ready to 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 



38 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

own childhood, and will sympathize with the feelings of 
yours. 

This plan of coming into our world and becoming one of 
us, and remaining in obscurity so long, that he might learn 
by experiment what the human condition is, in all its details,' 
was certainly a very extraordinary one. It is spoken of as 
very extraordinary everywhere in the Bible. 

You have all heard of Hov/ard 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 
multitude of cases, left to suffer 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 he could to mitigate 
its severity. 

This was extraordinary enough, and it attracted'univer- 
sal attention. All Europe was surprised that a man should 
devote years of life to a most arduous and hazardous labor, 
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 sufferings of 
criminals — of men whom the world had cast off as unfit 
for human society. It was, I acknowledge, extraordinary ; 
but what would have been the sensation produced, if How- 
ard could not have gained admission to these scenes, so as 
effectually to accomplish his object, without becoming him- 
aelf a iwisoner, and thus sharing for a time the fate of those 
whom he was endeavoring to save ? Suppose he should 



THE FRIEND. 39 

consent to this. Imagine him approaching for this purpose 
some dreary prison. He passes its dismal threshold, and 
the bolts and bars of the gloomiest dungeon are turned upon 
him. He lays aside the comfortable dress of the citizen for 
the many-colored 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 wretchedness, for no other purpose than that he 
raay hnoiv fully luliat ivretched7iess 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 suffer- 
ings of a prisoner, and how cordiaUy and with what confi- 
dence could the inmates of those abodes come to him with 
their story of woe. 

Now, we have such a Saviour as tliis, though all com- 
parisons fail fully to illustrate what he has done and sufiered 
for us. He has been among us. He has himself experienced 
every kind of trial and suffe'ring which we have to endure. 
So that if we choose liim for our friend, we may come to 
him on every occasion, sure of finding not only 2^oive?' to 
relieve us, but sympathy to feel for us. No matter w^iat 
may be the source of our trial, whether great or small, it 
it is great enough to interest 2is, it is great enough to interest 
Jdm for us. Perhaps some young child who reads this has 
been pained to the heart by the unkindness of some one in 
w^hom he had reposed all his confidence. The action which 
showed this neglect or unkindness was so trifling, that per- 
haps the little sufferer feels that no one can sympathize 
Avith him in apparently so small a cause of sorrow. 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- 



40 THE YOUNG CHPuISTIAlT. 

hood was the only time of his life in which he m' as free frcm 
these injuries. He, doubtless, knows them full well; and 
there is one thing in which the sympathy of our Saviour 
difiers from that of every other friend — ^lie judges not from 
the magnitude of the cause of sorrow, but from the real 
effect of that cause upon the heart which sufiers it. If a 
child is agitated by a trifling cause, he looks at the greatness 
of the agitation and suffering, not at the insignificance ot 
the cause. But it is not so with men ; they judge from 
external circumstances. 

In all the greater trials of life, I mean those which come 
from greater and more permanent causes, Ave may confi- 
dently expect sympathy and fellow-feeling if we come to the 
Saviour. 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 with 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, and fully knows, with all the 
vividness of experience, exactly what suffering in all its 
variety is. 

We all love sympathy when we are suffering, 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 
struggling 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 
indignation of an extensive community ; every one expressed 
the strongest abhorrence of the deed, and great efforts were 
made 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. 



THE FP.IEND. 41 

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

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. 
AYe ascended the stairs, and found every story assuming the 
same rigid features of iron and stone. In a corner 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 clergyman 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 I", thought I. " Here is 
a man Avho has outraged the laws of both God and man, 
and a whole community has arisen in justice and declared 
that he is unworthy to live, and to-morrow, by the hand of 
justice, he is to die. And yet his very keeper treats him so 
tenderly that he will not come into his cell without first 
obtaining permission I" 

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 effectually 
removed my surprise that he should be treated with kind- 
ness and compassion. He was pale and haggard, and he 
trembled very exceedingly. He seemed exhausted by the 
agony of remors? and terror. A few hours before, his wife 
had been in the cell to bid him a final farev/ell, and the 
next day he was to be led forth to execution in the presence 
of thousands. In the meantime the walls and floor and 



-42 THE YOUNLt CHUISTIAN. 

roof of his cell — of continued, uninterrupted stone and iron — 
seemed to say to him, wherever he looked, " You shall not 
cicaiie:' It seemed as if the eye would have rested with 
a feeling of relief upon a board or a curtain, even if it con- 
cealed a stone behind, with so forbidding and relentless a 
gripe did this dismal cell seem to hold its unhappy tenant. 
As I looked between the heavy iron bars of his grated win- 
dow upon the distant plains and hills, and thought how 
ardently he must wash that he were once more innocent and 
free, I almost forgot the cold-blooded brutality of the crime- 
in mourning over the misery and ruin of the man. 

The world does in some such cases sympathize with one 
suffering' from remorse ; but, generally, men are indignant 
with the offender if his crime is great, and they treat him 
with ridicule and scorn if it is small. Jesus Christ, how- 
ever, 'pities a sinner. He loved us while we were yet in 
our sins ; he came to save us. He came, not to inflict the 
'pit7iishment which our sin deserved, but to redeem us from 
the sufferhigs and imrify us fror,i the guilt into which it 
had brought us. 

This is everywhere very apparent in his whole history. 
Often the greatest sinners came to him, and he never re- 
proached them when they came with a humble and penitent 
heart. He always endeavored to relieve them of their bur- 
den 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 exhib- 
iting coldly the contrast of his own bright example, or by 
administering severe rebukes, he says, " Come unto me, all 
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest." * 

Persons who wish to be saved from sin, very often dis- 
trust the Saviour's willingness to receive them. They 
acknowledge, in general terms, his kindness and compassion,^ 



THE FRIEND. 43 

and think that he is, in all ordinary cases, willing to save 
the chief of sinners ; but they think there is something pecu- 
liar in their case, which should prevent them from coming 
to him in confidence. I observed that this peculiarity is 
almost always one of two things : first, that they do not 
engage ardently enough in the work of salvation; or, in 
the second place, 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 
sufficient interest in the subject ? You know that you are 
sinners, and think you 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 fear tha 
promises 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 find yourselves constantly committing, and by your 
repeatedly broken resolutions. You think the Saviour must 
be wearied out by your continual backsiidmgs and sins, and 
you arc ready to give up the contest, and to think that final 
holiness and peace are not for you, 

Nov/ there are throughout our land vast multitudes 
who are vainly endeavoring to make their hearts better, 
in order to recommend themselves to their Saviour's care. 
You must indeed use every effort to obtain deliverance 
from the bondage of sm, but not as a means of recom- 
mending 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 while v/e ' are in our triah 
and difficulties, not after we get out of them. How many 
say in their hearts, I must overcome this sin, or free myself 



44 THE YOUNa CHP^ISTIAN. 

from that temptation, and then I will come to the Saviour. 
I must have clearer views of my own sins, or deeper peni- 
tence, 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 strugghng sinner until he has, by his own 
unaided strength, and without assistance or sympathy, fin- 
ished the contest, and then only to come and ofler his con- 
gratulations after the victory is won ? Is this such a Sav- 
iour as you imagine the Bible to describe ? 

At the door of one of the chambers of the house in which 
you reside, you hear a moaning 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, 

" Yv^e must send for a physician immediately ; there is 
one at the next door who will come in in a moment." 

'•'0 no," groans out the sufl^erer, "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 
ill." 

"Then we must have a physician immediately," you 
reply. " Run and call him," you say, turning to an attend- 
ant ; " ask him to come as soon as possible." 

"0 stop, stop I" says the sick man, "wait till I get a 
little easier ; my breath is very short and my pulse 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 I may feel 
better, and then I will send for him." 

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



THE FRIEND. 45 

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 obtainmg these feelings, noi to receive 
you afler you have made yourself holy without him. You 
have, I well know, great and arduous struggles to make 
with sill. Just as certahily as you attempt them alone, 
you will become discouraged and fail. Come to the Saviour 
before you begin them, for 1 do assure you )^ou will need 
help. 

One great object which our Saviour had in view in re- 
maining so long in the world was, that he might experience 
our temjotatioas, 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 Avith a severity which they 
would not use if they remembered distinctly the feelings of 
childhood. Perhaps a httle boy is placed on a seat near his 
intimate friend, and charged upon pain of 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 presence of the 
master, the regulations of the school, and the special prohi- 
bition 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 disobeyed, and looks 
up just in time to see the stern eye of his teacher upon him 
speaking most distinctly of displeasure and of punishment. 
jSTow if any severe punishment should follow such a trans- 



46 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

gression, how disproportionate would it be to the guilt I 
The boy has indeed done wrong, but how slight must the 
wrong be in the view of any one who could look into tlie 
lieart, and estimate truly its moral movements in such a 
case. It is unquestionably true, and every wise teacher is 
fully aware of it, that in school discipline there is constant 
danger that the teacher will estimate 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 difficulties, and many a 
little struggier with the inclinations which would draw him 
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 vv^ill take these same lessons which I assign, and 
endeavor to keep myself the rules which I have been en- 
deavoring to enforce. I will spend two or three weeks in 
this way, that I may learn by actual experience what the 
difficulties and temptations and trials of childhood are." 
Suppose 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 neighboring school, unknown 
to his new companions, to partake with them in all their 
trials and temptations. He toils upon a perplexing lesson, 
that he m.ay know by experience what the perplexity of 
childhood is : he obeys the strictest rules, that he may un- 
derstand the difficulty of obedience; 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. 



THE FRIEND. 47 

A-fter fully making the experiment, he resimies his former 
character, and returns to his station of authority. Now 
if this were done, how cordially, how much better could 
he afterAvards sympathize with his pupils in their trials, 
und with what confidence could they come to him in all 
their cares. 

Now we have such a Saviour as this. The Word was 
made flesh, that is, became man, and dwelt among us. He 
took not on him the nature of angels, but the nature of 
man. " Yvlierefore it behooved him in all things to be made 
like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and 
faithful high-priest," "AYe have not a high-priest which 
cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but 
was in all points tempted like as we are." 

My reader will doubtless observe that tliis case is some- 
what similar to that of Howard, which I imagined in the 
former part of tliis chapter. I was then upon the subject 
of sympathy with suffering. I imagined Howard to become 
a prisoner, that he might understand and sympathize with 
the S'uffermgs of prisoners. Now I am speaking of the 
subject of temiDtation and strugglhig against sin, and I 
imagine the teacher to become a child, that he raiay appre- 
ciate the trials and temjjtatiojis of childhood. 

AYe 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 in regard to those who had brought 
themselves into difficulty by doing wrong, was very often 
manifested Avhile he was upon the earth, and v.-e 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 endeavoring to 
illustrate in it is this : Christ is the sinjiefs friend ; he is 
ahle and ivilling to save you ^rom the punishment and from 
the pov.'er cf sui. If you confess all your sins and seek their 
forgivcneB- tlirough his blood, and resolve henceforth to lead 



48 THE YOUNCt CHEISTIAN. 

a life of piety, you will need a friend and helper. You will 
want sympathy both in your sufferings and in your strug- 
gles ivith temptation. Our Lord Jesus Christ will sympa- 
thize Mdth you and help you m both. 

I once knew a benevolent gentleman whose fortune ren- 
dered 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 tliey had 
been sick before. There was one poor lad who took cold, I 
believe, by breaking through the ice in the winter, and he 
was rendered a helpless cripple for years, and yet this gentle- 
man or some of his family visited him almost daily during all 
this time, and instead of getting tired of his patient, he be- 
came more and more interested in him to the last. Now 
our Redeemer is such a physician. He does not ask any 
preparation before we send for him ; nor does he 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 repeated 
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. 

"A bruised reed he shall not break." 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 ver- 
dant top is drenched in the waters which bathe its root ; 



THE FE.IENP. 49 

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. Noav Jesus Christ is this planter. Every back- 
sliding, humbled Christian is a bruised reed; and hoAV 
many are now thriving and vigorous, that in the hour of 
humiliation have been saved by his tenderness. 

Come then to this Friend, all of you. Having intrusted 
your soul to him as your Saviour, bring all your interests and 
hopes and fears to him ; he will sympathize in them all. 
And whenever you have wandered, never hesitate a moment 
to return. 



50 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN, 



CHAPTER III. 

PTuAYER. 
" AVhatsoever ye shall ask in my name, I will do it." 

As I have on this subject many separate points to dis- 
cuss, I shall arrange what I have to say under several dis- 
tinct heads, that the view presented may he the better 
understood and remembered. 

I. The 'poicer of sprayer. This subject may be best 
illustrated 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 separa- 
tion with regret. The father felt solicitous for the future 
character and happiness of his boy, as he was noAV to go forth 
into new temptations and dangers ; and the son was reluc- 
tant to leave the quiet and the happiness of his father's fire- 
side for the bustle of business and the rough exposures of the 
crowded city where he was for the future to find a home. 
The hour of separation, however, at last arrives, and the 
father says to him at parting, 

" My son, be faithful, do your duty, and you will be happy. 
E-emember your parents, the efforts they have made, and the 
affection they 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 yoii 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 
thousand instances under the circumstances above described. 



PRAYER. 51 

contains a promise to send the son ivliatever 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 to me and you shall have it," yet the meaning express- 
ed fully would be, " whenever you wish for any thing v/liich 
as far 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." 

Now a boy may in such a case make a great many re- 
quests which the father might refuse without being consid- 
ered by any one as breaking his promise. 

1 . He may ask something v/hich the father knows would, 
in the end, injure hiin. Suppose he should request his 
father to supply him with double his usual amount 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 
attention from his busmess. 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 iiiter- 
fere luitli tlie rights or hapimiess of others. There was a 
watch, we will imagine, hanging up in liis father's house, 
used by all the family — the only timepiece accessible to 
them. Now supposing the boy, growing selfish and vain, 
and thinking that his importance among his comrades would 
be a little increased by a watch, should write to his father to 
send that to him. Who Avould think that his father would 
be obliged to comply on account of his parting promise to 
his son to supply all his wants ? Even Christians very often 
make such selfish requests, and wonder why their prayers 



52 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAl^. 

are not heard. A farmer who has one field which needs 
watering, will pray for rain with great earnestness, forget- 
ting that God has to take care of the ten thousand fields all 
around his own, and that they perhaps need the sun. A 
mother who has a boy at sea will pray for prosperous winds 
for him, forgetting that the ocean is whitened with sails 
all under God's care, and that the breeze wliich bears one 
onward must retard another. But more on this subject 
presently. 

3. He may ask in an imiwoiier manner. Suppose the 
father should take from the post-office a letter in his son's 
handv/riting, and on breaking the seal, should read as fol- 
lows : 

" Dear Father — You mu2,t let me come home next week 
to Christmas. I wanted to come last year, but you would 
not let me, and noAV I 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, 

{( 11 

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 considered as 
liable to these exceptions. 

Our Saviour tells us, " Whatsoever ye shall ask the 
Father in my name, he will do it." This is common lan- 
guage, such as men address to men, and is doubtless to be 
understood according to its most natural and familiar import. 
It evidently implies that our requests, humbly and properly 
presented in the name of Christ, through whom alone we 



PRAYER. 53 

have access to God the Father, will have a real influence 
with him in regard to things entirely beyond our control. 
But God must reserve the right to deny our requests when 
made in an improper spirit or manner, and when they ask 
what would injure us, or interfere with the general good. 

If any of you have, jn accordance with the views pre- 
sented in the two preceding chapters, confessed your past 
sins, and obtained mercy through faith in the E,edeemer, you 
will take great pleasure in bringing your recpiests to God. 
And you may, in doing this, sometimes pray for success in 
some enterprise when God sees that it is on the whole best 
that you should fail. A man may ask that God will place 
liim in some important station of influence or usefuhiess, 
when the eye that can see the whole discovers that the gen- 
eral good will be promoted by another arrangement. Thus 
in many similar ways your prayers may sometimes come 
within the excepted cases, and then God will not grant them. 
StiU, God has revealed himself as the hearer of prayer ; and 
it will at last be seen that he was more ready to grant all 
our requests presented in the name of Christ, than we were 
to spread them before him. 

There is even among Christians a great deal of distrust 
of the power of prayer. Some think that prayer exerts a 
good influence upon their own hearts, and thus they continue 
the practice, without, however, having any very cordial 
belief that their prayers are really listened to and granted as 
7'equests by the great Jehovah. Many persons imagine that 
prayer has an eflicacy in some such way as this : A man 
asks God to protect and bless him in his business. By ofi^er- 
ing the prayer eveiy day, he is reminded of his dependence ; 
he thmks of the necessity of his own industry and patient 
efibrt ; and thus, through the influence of his prayer, the 
causes of prosperity are brought to operate more fully in his 
case, and prosperity comes. 

This is indeed often one of the happy results of believing 



54 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

prayer ; but it can by no means be regarded as a granting 
of the request, or a fulfilment of the promise, " 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 favorable 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 always 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 contumed 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 provi- 
dence, weaned from the world and prepared for heaven, and 
thus inconceivably benefited by the event. Was this, in any 
common or correct use of language, granting the request in 
another form ; or was it denying it because it was inconsist- 
ent with her greatafet 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 would probably injure himself with 
it. Is this granting the request in another form ? No. We 
ought, whenever the particular request we make is not 
granted, to consider it as a denial, 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 
another 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 earnestly to the throne of grace, and ask God to spare 
his life and make him well. Instead, however, of gioAving 



PRAYEE. 55 

better, he grows suddenly worse. He is attacked with vio- 
lent sickness, and his friends think that their prayers cannot 
he heard, and suppose that they must follow hmi 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 con* 
stitution, he rises from his sick bed with renewed bodily 
powers, and as his strength gradually returns, he finds that 
his constitution is renewed and health entirely restored. 
Now this is granting the request, because the thing request- 
ed, that is, the restoration to health, is obtained, though the 
manner was unexpected ; but if the man should die, no mat- 
ter what great benefits to all resulted from his death, it is 
certainly net 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 
petitions often are, and must be 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 i^i prayer. We ought unques- 
tionably to bring a great many requests to God relating to 
our daily pursuits. We ought to express to him our com- 
mon desires, ask success in our common enterprises and plans. 
Young persons, it seems to me, ought to do this far more 
than they do. They ought to bring all their httle interests 
and concerns, morning and evenmg, to their Friend above. 
Whatever interests you, as I have already once or twice 
remarked, will interest him. Bring to him freely your little 
troubles and cares, and express your wants. If the young 
cannot come to God with their own appropriate and peculiar 



56 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

concerns, they are in reality without a protector. If, how- 
ever, we are in the habit of bringing all our wants to God, 
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 want is dangerous, or that it will be 
injurious, it is proper to ask for it. If we do or might know, 
to request it would be obviously wrong. David prayed very 
earnestly 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 Ave 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 
committing 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 
removing a Christian from the world. You do not know 
but that he will rem.ove 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 and happy heart, even in the most imminent danger. 
But you cannot be sure you will escape the lightning. The 
ground of your peace must be, that God will do ivhat is best, 
not that lie will certainly do tvhat you ivish. 

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



PRAYER. 57 

sleep, one above the other — are arranged around this cabin, 
and a movable 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 har- 
bor, on a coasting voyage of about two hundred miles. They 
did not know how long they were to be together, what ad- 
ventures 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 common danger 
brought them at once to terms of mtimacy. 

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 
undulations 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 j^laces, 
had their books. 

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

Presently a gentleman who had been sittnig 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 ?" 

" Certainly, sir, any thing I have ; but 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 



58 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

newspaper or a tract, took liis seat again, and began to read. 
Presently a lady made the same request ; others looked as 
though they wished to, but hesitated. Our traveller observ- 
ing this, said to all within hearing, 

" If others of the company Avould 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 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. Sitting 
here with nothing to do is rather dull." 

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 which 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, wliich is the duty of praying to God with the 
feeling that he will, after all, do as he pleases about grant- 
ing the request. I must hasten to the conclusion of my 
Btory. 

The passage was an uncommonly long one. They hoped 
to reach their port in two days, but after ten had passed 
away, they M^ere 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 a terrific 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- 



PRAYER. 59 

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 m silence. Their hearts 
were full of forehoding fears. The captain endeavored 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 harbor 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 harbor, however, I shall have to 
put about and stand out to sea ; for if we are to have a 
Btorm, 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 
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 expe- 
rienced remained upon deck, clinging to the m.asts or to the 
rigging, and watching with interest the distant ghmmering 
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 
Lhe 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. Some- 
* The T, a noted wharf at Boston. 



60 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

times the ship would veer a little from her course, and as 
the light moved ofi' 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 
WLid 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 forAvard, and 
stood there looking upon the dark, gloomy horizon until he 
was completely drenched with the spray. In a few minutes 
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 agahi heard m 
the loud but monotonous tone of command : 

"Helm's alee." 

There was bustle at the bows of the ship. A great sail 
flapped in the wind with a sound of thunder ; the ropes 
rattled ; the boom swung with violence across the deck ; 
and the bow, which had been pointed directly to the light- 
house, their only star of hope, now swept swiftly around the 
horizon, until it left it behind them. The vessel plunged 
into the waves ; and to complete this scene of terror, a loud 
sound, like a, clap of rattling thunder, burst close over their 
heads, arousmg 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 consc 



PEAYEE,. 61 

quently they must be all night exposed unsheltered to the 
violence of the storm. Although the commotion had already 
been enough to fill the passengers with fear, yet, to an eye 
accustomed to the ocean, there had not been any real danger. 
But real danger soon came. The wind increased, and the 
vessel labored so much in struggling against its fury, that 
even the captain thought it doubtful whether they should 
ever see the land. 

AYhen I'commenced tliis 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 
incident. My design was to illustrate the feelings with 
which prayer ought to be offered in danger, and I wished 
therefore to give you a vivid idea of a situation of danger on 
the deep. Our passengers were now in immuient 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 all, 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 
nature of prayer as to suppose, that if this company should 
now sincerely unite in commending themselves to God's 
protection, he would certainly bring them safe to land. But 
many cases have occurred in which Christians who have 
been in the midst of danger, have fled to Jehovah for pro- 
tection, and offered sincere and doubtless acceptable prayer 
to him, who yet were not delivered from the danger imme- 
diately impending over them. Are real Christians 7iever 
lost at sea ? Do real Christians who, on their sick beds, pray 
that God will restore them to health, never die ? Is a Chris- 
tian who, on commencing a journey, asks divine protection, 
never overturned in a coach ? Is the family which always 



62 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

asks, ill 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 in the precise 
form and manner in which, in our ignorance, it is presented. 
He knows what is best, and complies with our requests bo 
far as he sees to be consistent. 

Then you will say, "vYhat 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 from that danger, but you can 
rest calmly and peacefully in the assurance that God will 
graciously regard your prayer, and do ivJiat on the ivhole is 
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 
w^ould terrify us ; we should be calm and happy in all situ- 
ations. Christians have very often been calm and happy 
when not danger merely, but certain death was approach- 
ing, so strong has been their confidence in God. And is 
there not good reason why it should be so ? • Shall a Chris- 
tian who knows the aflection of his heavenly 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, unless special reasons prevent. Now, as we 
cannot know v/hat these special reasons are, we cannot be 
certain 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 acqui- 
escence in God's will. Not a sparrow falls to the ground 



PRAYER. 63 

without his knowledge ; still, sparrows often do fall. All 
that we can be absolutely certain of is, that whatever hap- 
pens 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 
below. It was no longer safe for them to attempt to stand 
in any part of the vessel, and the Christian traveller called 
upon God to save them from their common danger. What 
prayer he offered I* do not know. I learned the circum- 
stances 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 passengers 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 AATite one which it seems to me might with 
propriety be offered on such an occasion. 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 will permit, the 
foilo\^dng petition, in which they endeavor 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 wind and waves, art 
really present, to hear what we have to say as Ave come 
before thee. 

" Grant, Holy Spirit, that all of us who are now pres- 
ent, 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 danger 



64 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

comes, and no arm but thine can help, we are ashamed and 
afraid to come to thee. But 0, our Father, let not one of 
us hesitate now. We thank thee for teaching us, by so irre- 
sistible a proof, how dependent we are upon thee. May we 
all be willmg to learn the lesson, and may we bow humbly 
before thee now, even if we have never bowed before. 

" "\Ye come to ask that thou wilt protect us in tliis dan- 
ger, and brmg us safely to our homes. Thou canst protect 
from greater dangers than these. AYilt 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 such tidmgs of our destruction must give. Almighty 
Father, save us, we pray thee. 

" Nevertheless, not our will, but tliine be done. W'e 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 
Avould 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. Par- 
don our sins, so that we may be at peace with thee ; and 
whether we are to hve or die, may our hearts be thine, 
through Christ our Redeemer. Amen." 

Such may have been the spirit of the prayer. Such 1 
presume was the spirit of the petition offered on this occa- 
sion. Every heart which will sincerely offer such a prayer 
when in danger, will feel reheved from its solicitude and 
fear. I am aware that in a case of imminent exposure of 
life, the terror excited is often a physical feeling vrhich moral 



PRAYER. 65 

causes will not fully control. Still, this calm acquiescence 
in God's superior AvLsdom and power will do more than any 
other feeling can to produce peace. 

III. SinceriUj in '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 trj-ing to feel some deep agitation, imaginmg that sincere 
and acceptable prayer caimot be oiiered without it. You 
must be sincere vrhen 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 us this day 
our daily bread," etc. Wliat a peaceful, quiet sphit it 
breathes. The great question in regard to your praj-^er being 
acceptable, is tliis : Do you wish for any tiling 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. Ask with that degree of feeling which your hiter- 
est in the request prompts, and no more. If you wish to 
increase your feeling, 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 thuikhig of it, and considering how great a bless- 
ing it would be to you if granted, and thus you may hicrease 
your ardor in prayer. Eut all direct attcinpts to produce 
this ardor by effort will fail ; or if they succeed in producing 
some sort of excitement, it is not a healthy, acceptable 
hiterest in prayer. 

]S'ov\', after this explanation, those who read this can 
easily tell whether they are prepared to offer, this night, 
acceptable prayer to God. Do you -^ish to have God take 
care of you while you sleep ? I do not mean, do you wish 
to be safe — every body wishes to be safe ; but do you -wish 
to have God at your bedside, protecting you ? If you do 
not, if the feehng of his presence would be a burden to you 



66 THE YOUNG- CHEISTIAN. 

and a restraint, of course you will not ask hiin to come. 
But suppose you are desirous of having liim present, are you 
then willing to ask him ? I do not inquire whether 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 
breathe a short and simple petition to God to come and be 
your friend and protector for the night, to acknowledge that 
you do not deserve his protection, and that you ask it in 
the name of Jesus Christ ? If you are willing to do this, 
and if you actually do it, and if you ask with that degree 
of feeling which a sincere desire for God's protection 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 thought- 
ful, conscientious one, who has taken up this book honestly 
desiring to find in it religious instruction. 

" If I understand the author right, he says that if I to- 
night pray to God to protect me, just because I want pro- 
tection, or rather, because I v/ant Ids protection, that will be 
acceptable prayer. But it seems to me that it 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 be- 
cause I feel the need of them, it is only a selfish desire for 
my own happiness, and I cannot expect to be heard. I long 
for such a friend as Jesus Christ, that I may come to him 
in all my trials and troubles, and seek strength from him in 
temptation. But then this is all love of my own happi- 
ness. I cannot be happy in sin ; it is odious to me : there 
is a foreboding and a burden from which I wish to be 



PRAYER. 67 

relieved. But unless I have a higher motive than a wish to 
obtain peace and happiness in Christ, I cannot expect to be 
heard." 

I have no doubt there are some who are substantially in 
this state of mind. They are deterred by this difficulty from 
coming cordially to their great Friend above. I have stated 
the difficulty as distinctly and fully as I can, adoptmg as 
nearly as possible the words in which it has often been pre- 
sented to me. I hope you will attend carefully to my reply, 
and if it is satisfactory now, lay it up in j^our memories, and 
never be embarrassed by this difficulty again. 

My reply is substantially tliis : that a genidne desire for 
the peace and happi'tiess of inety is a perfectly proper motive 
for coming to God. It i^ the motive which the Bible every- 
where presents. It is not, in any proper sense of the term, 
selfislmess. 

First, it is a perfectly proper motive. God is our great 
Creator and Protector, and he made ns weak and dependent, 
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 indif- 
ferent 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 true happiness, and to come to 
him for it ; and the very existence of such a desire in you is 
the work of his renewing Spirit. 

Again, the Bible everywhere presents the peace and 
happiness of piety as the motive why we should seek it. 
Jesus stood and cried in a great concourse of people, " Come 
unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest." How strange that any one can imagine after 
this, that a love of the rest Christ will give, and a desire to 
be relieved of our burden of sin, 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 



68 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

the Bible contains, 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 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 suflering." Did he ever turn them away because 
they came for their own benefit ? A nobleman once came. 
His son was at the point of death. Parental affection urged 
liim 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 philosophical notions of faith and disinterestedness, 
that when the Saviour began to speak of faith and the influ- 
ence of miracles upon it, he almost interrupted him by say- 
ing, " Come down, ere my child die." And did the Saviour 
repulse him, and say he was influenced by wrong motives ? 
He wanted happiness, and he was willing to come to Jesus 
Christ for it. And God wishes to see the whole human 
race eager for the pure joys of piety, and flocking around his 
throne to obtain them. 0, if any of you are weary of the 
burden of sin, and long for the peace and happiness of piety, 
come boldly for it. Never fear that God will call it selfish- 
ness, and drive you away. 

Once more : I said tliis could not be called selfishness ; 
desiring the happiness of true religion, and taking the proper 
means to obtain it from God, cannot properly be called self- 
ishness. 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 father 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 efiects 



PRAYER. 69 

exactly in the shelves and drawers of the desk, and are an- 
ticipatmg much enjoyment from the expected acquisition. 
He sees their countenances 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 pleasantly 
if you have it. Now that is very wrong ; that is selfishness. 
To desire any thing for the sake of the happiness which it 
affords, is selfishness. Unless you can ask for some better 
motive than that, I cannot grant your requests." 

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 the 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 to them. 

But what is selfishness ? Why, if the desk, instead of 
lying useless in the garret, was used by the older brothers, 
and the younger wished to take it away, that would be self- 
ishness. A disposition to encroach icpoyi the claim?, of God, 
or wpon the rights of others, in order to secure our own 
pleasure, is selfishness ; and we must not come to God with 
this spirit. If any one, however, desires peace and happi- 
ness, and is satisfied that God only can give it, let him come 
and ask. " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the 
waters." God never will repulse you because thirst urges 
you to come. 



70 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

IV. Faith in lorayer. 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 acceptable, the Christian must have a full 
belief that his request v^ill be granted. This is called the 
prayer of faith. Hence many persons, when they strongly 
desire some spiritual blessing for themselves or others, make 
a great deal of eflbrt 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 gray light of the 
dawn around the early fire of some Christian neighbor. 
They read and reflect a mom.ent upon a few verses of the 
Bible. They sing a hymn, and are just a.bout to kneel 
before God to unite in prayer for his blessing upon them- 
selves and upon their families and neighbors 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 ive Qiiiist have fait] I, or we cannot expect that God 
will 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 faith." 

They then unite in prayer, and there kneels with them, 
in a corner of the room, unnoticed perhaps by all but God, 
a young disciple, who understands the 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 hstens to the words of the prayer, to beheve 
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 sincerely desires it, 



PRAYER. 71 

but she cannot really believe that it will be fully granted. 
Then she reproves herself for her unbehef; that is, for the 
feeling that it is not probable that all present will be per- 
fectly pure and holy during that day. She struggles against 
this feeling, but she cannot conquer it. Belief rests on evi- 
dence, not on determination. 

The next petition is for a powerful revival of pure relig- 
ion in that neighborhood ; that, by a divine influence exerted 
over their hearts, Christians may be led to love their Maker 
more and to serve him better ; and that those who are living 
in sin may miiversally be awakened to a conviction of their 
guilt and danger, and be persuaded to serve Jehovah. Now 
our young Christian sincerely desires this — she hopes for it ; 
but she is distressed because she cannot cordially believe that 
it will certainly come, and she considers this feeling a want 
of faith. She rises from her posture of devotion anxious and 
unhappy, because she does not feel absolutely 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 faith 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 ivliat 
is on the luliole for the best — not positive that he will do 
exactly tvhat ive ask. God never has given assemblies of 
Christians authority to mark out a course for him to pursue 
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. "\Ye must ofier our 
petitions, trusting in God, believing, as the Bible expresses 
it, " that he is, and that he is the re warder of them that 
diligently seek him ;" but after we have offered our most 
earnest requests, we must leave the matter v/ith him. This 
is what is meant by the pi-ayer of faith, so often alluded to 



72 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

by Christian ministers. And this was the kind of faith our 
Saviour required of those who came to him to he healed. 
" BeUevest 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 believing 
that their prayer for his deliverance would be granted, that 
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 exercised. 
"Believing that ye shall receive them," then, must mean, 
believing that God is able and willing to grant, except in 
those cases where imperious reasons compel him to deny. 
J ~ He sees many material considerations in every case which 
r - are entirely beyond our view, and we must leave him to 
decide. 

It is very often said, that prayer for spiritual blessings 

■J- '^- will always be heard and granted. True, when the humble 

— -ri and believmg penitent asks God for mercy on his own soul, 

' '' " his prayer is never denied ; but when we ask for spiritual 

blessings upon others, we can be no more absolutely certain 

of a direct answer than in asldng for temporal blessings. 

God does often withhold the influences of his Spirit, as we 

"""^ all know full well. YVho 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 God would make him his. 
She consecrated him to his Maker's service at his earliest 
breath. 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 efibrts are fruitless, and her 
prayers are not answered. Her son grows up in indifference 
about God, which perhaps becomes, when he has arrived at 
maturity, open hostihty. How many such mothers there 



PRAYER. 73 

are I She was praying, too, for spiritual blessings, for the 
conversion of a son to God ; but the sovereign Ruler leaves 
liim, notwithstanding these supplications, to his own chosen 
way. 

Yes, God is a Sovereign. He dispenses all liis favors as 
he himself thinks best. He listens to our requests, and takes 
them into kind consideration, but he reserves to himself the 
right to make the ultimate decision. Let us come to him, 
then, with filial confidence, and with a deep sense of our need 
of the blessings we ask, but always with this humble feel- 
ing, that God sees farther than we, and can judge better, 
and that he will himself make the idtimate decision in regard 
to every thing we ask. 

And we must remember, that this is just as true with 
regard to spiritual blessings as to any other. The cause of 
religion advances in the world, through a blessing on the 
labors of Christians to spread the gospel, in a manner which 
we cannot predict or account for. But every one, w^hatever 
may be his ideas of the boundlessness of human freedom or hu- 
man responsibility, acknowledges that the determining where 
the gospel shall triumph and where it shall fail, and regulat- 
ing its progress throughout the earth, rests in the hands of 
the Supreme. Now what man is there who can understand 
the prmciples wliich guide Jehovah in the exercise of the 
power which he so obviously possesses ? How many secretly 
think that the sudden conversion of a w^hole city, perhaps, to 
God w^ould be a glorious achievement of the Redeemer, and 
fancy that if they had the power over the heart v/hich God 
possesses, they would produce the effect at once, and exhibit 
the magnificent spectacle of the undisputed reign of holiness 
and peace in a community of one hundred thousand. Sup- 
pose now every Christian in some great city were to unite 
in a sincere and heartfelt prayer that God would pour out 
his Spirit universally among them, and in a smgle day 
awaken all the mullitudes around them to piety. It is 

y. Cbrist'an. 4 



74 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

indeed unquestionably true, tliat if this united prayer should 
be ofiered, and should be accomj^anied by the eilbits Vvhicli 
sincerity in the prayer would insure, most uncommon 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 working in spreading 
the gospel. And why does he not work in this way, con- 
verting whole communities at once, leading them to him by 
his own direct agency upon the heart, as he now often leads 
individuals in silence and solitude ? Why does not God work 
in this manner ? Some one may say, because Christians are 
so cold and negligent in duty. AYliy then does not the power 
which raised up Paul raise up thousands like him now, and 
enkindling within them the spirit and devotedness of 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 dic- 
tate. If we attempt to take the reins, we find them far 
above our reach, and the wheels roll on Avhere God points 
the way. 

The experienced Christian v/ho reads these remarks, 
mtended to show that God really controls and directs every 
thing relating to the progress cf piety in the world, will im- 
mediately say, " How liable are we 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 fnen vAli lose their sense of their 
own accountability. 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 
meantime does nothing, or at most she goes over the same 
formal round of duties, without any of that spirit and enter- 



TRAYER. 75 

prise and ingenuity which she would exercise if she knew 
that something depended upon her own efforts. But this 
perversion of scripture truth is not necessary or unavoidahle. 
However difficult it may be for us to understand how man 
can be fully free and fully accountable, while God retains so 
much direct power over his heart as the Bible so distmctly 
describes, it is possible cordially to feel the accountability, 
and at the same time sincerely to acknowledge the depend- 
ence. Look at the case of that Christian teacher. She 
prays most earnestly thcit 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 dispositions softened, and all brought 
under the influence of Christian love. She asks that God 
will pour out his Spirit and diffuse peace and happiness over 
the school-room, improving every character, purifying and 
ennoblmg every heart, and making the dejected happy and 
the happy happier still. She has seen such an influence 
diffused over a school — she knows it is from above, and she 
looks to Him who rules human hearts to come into her circle 
with his benign 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 ? INTo ; 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 accompUsh 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 dis- 
covering, she carries forward veiy eflectually in her little 
circle the cause for which she prays. 

It is so universally. "VThen a minister allows his sense 
of his entire dependence on God to become feeble or indis- 
tinct, his efforts, instead of increasing, diminish. It may be 



76 THE YOUXa CHE.I3TIAIT. 

called the Christian paradox, that he who, in theory, ascribes 
least efficacy to human efforts, and most to the Spirit of God, 
in the salvation of men, is ordinarily most indefatigable in 
those very efforts which he knows arc of tliemselves utterly 
fruitless and vain. 

And here I must close this chapter by urging my readers 
to commence immediately the practice of bringing all their 
wants and cares to God. I trust some have been per- 
suaded by it to do so. The following texts, prayerfully 
consulted, may afford them direction and encouragement : 
Psa. 145 : 18 ; Matt. 7:7-11; John 14 : 13 ; Eph. 3 : 20, 
21; Phil. 4:6, 7; Heb. 4:14-16; 10:19-22; James 
1 : 5-7. 

Some of my young readers, however, probably wish to 
know Avhat became of the packet-ship which I left in immi- 
nent danger out in the bay ; for that narrative is substan- 
tially true, though I was not an eye-Avitness 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 Avere 
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 expected to see another morning. 
The passengers in the cabin, however, before long perceived 
that the violence of the tempest was a little abating ; the 
thunder of the wind and waves grew somewhat less ; and 
though the pitching and tossing of the ship rather increased 
than diminished, they began to cherish a little hope ; some 
of the number even fell into a troubled sleep. 

At last there were indications of the morning. The 
dim form of objects in the cabin began to be a little more 
distinct. The gray light of day looked dowai 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. 



PRAYER. 77 

They went to the deck, clingmg 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 approachmg sun ; and not many 
miles distant there was extended a level sandy shore lined 
with dwellings, and opening to a small harbor, filled with 
vessels which had sought shelter there from the fury of the 
storm. It was Provincetown, at the extremity of the Cape. 
I need not say that the passengers and crew assembled once 
more at the throne of grace before they landed, to give 
thanks to God for having heard their prayer and granted 
them protection. 



78 THE YOUNa CHE.ISTIAN, 



CHAPTER lY. 

CONSEQUENCES OE NEGLECTING DUTY. 
" If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them." 

I HAVE noAV, in the several chapters which the reader 
has already had the opportunity of perusing, endeavored 
clearly to explain the first steps to be taken in Christian 
duty, and the principles and feelings by which they ought to 
be guided, and I think that all who have read these pages 
must have understood clearly and distinctly what they ought 
to do. Take, for example, the subject of the first chapter — 
Confession. You cannot read or even think upon that sub- 
ject for half an hour, without seeing plainly that you have 
disobeyed God again and agam, and that you have, by thus 
domg 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 con- 
troversy in the world, but I believe no sect, beheving the 
existence of the Deity, was ever heard of, which maintained 
that man does not do wrong, or that he ought not to ac- 
knowledge his sins to God. 

But when you saw clearly that you had done wrong, 
and destroyed your peace, did you go and seek tliis reconcil- 
iation ? How many probably read that chapter, and dis- 
tinctly understood what duty it urged upon them, and saw 
the reasonableness of that dut}^ and yet shut the book and 
laid it away, without ever intendmg at all to set resolutely 
about doing it. To understand clearly what duty is, and to 
have a disposition to do it, are very different things. 

I have during the preceding chapters been 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 



CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTINa DUTY. 79 

page to page, and endeavored so to explain and illustrate 
the principles of piety that every one could clearly under- 
stand, 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." "Mel- 
ancholy reflection I" you perhaps will say ; 'Svhy do you call 
it a melancholy reflection ? If some 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 
disregard what you say. The book will certainly do them 
no harm." 

Will do them no harm ? I wish that could be true. 
But it is not. The religious teacher cannot console himself 
with the thought, that when his eflbrts do no good, they will 
do no harm. For he must, if he speaks distinctly, and 
brings fairlj'" forward a subject of duty, cause every one of 
his readers to decide /br it or against it ; and when a person 
decides against duty, is he not injured ? Is not good princi- 
ple defeated or weakened, and liis heart hardened against a 
future appeal ? 

The chapter on Confession of Sin, for example, has been 
undoubtedly read by many 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. 
They could not, and probably would not, deny its obligation. 
But instead of going accordingly to God, and seeking peace 
and reconcihation to him by a free confession of guilt, and 
faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, they laid the book away, and 
after a very short time all the serious thoughts it suggested 
vanished from their minds, and they returned as before to 
their sins. Now this is deciding once more, distinctly against 
God. 

For, to decide against God, it is not necessary to use the 
actual language of disobedience. Suppose that a father 
sends a child to call back liis little sister, who is going away 



80 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

contrary to her father's wishes. The hoy runs and over- 
takes her, and dehvers his message. The child stops a mo- 
ment, and hstens to the command that she should return 
immediately to her home. She hesitates — thinks of her 
father and of her duty to ohey him, and then looks over the 
green fields through which she was walking, and longs to 
enjoy the forbidden pleasure. There is a momentary strug- 
gle in her heart, and then she turns away and walks boldly 
and carelessly on. The messenger returns slowly and sadly 
home. 

But why does he return sadly ? He has done his duty 
in delivermg the message ; why should 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 her pre- 
sented, might have been the means of her return and of her 
forgiveness, but that it ivas the means of confirmmg her in 
disobedience, and of hardening her heart against the claims 
of her father. 

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

Header, 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 Avill not do it ? If it is, read 
and consider attentively the narrative to which the remain- 
der of this chapter is devoted. It has never before been 
published. I providentially met with it in manuscript whilo 
writing these chapters, and it teaches so forcibly the lesson 
that ought now to be impressed upon my readers, that I 



CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 81 

requested of the clergyman who wrote it permission to insert 
it here. The circumstances are of recent occurrence, and 
the reader may rely upon the strict truth and faithfulness of 
the description. 

The reader will ohserve, however, that there are no 
remarkable incidents in tliis case. There are no peculiar 
circumstances 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. 

STOEY OF LOUISA. 

*' Shortly after my settlement in the ministry, I observed 
ill the congregation a young lady whose blooming counte- 
nance and cheerful air showed perfect health and high ela- 
tion of spirits. Her appearance satisfied me at once that 
she was amiable 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 v/ished to 
enjoy more of it before she becam.e 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 countenance retained the 
same marks of indifference and unconcern. The same easy 
smi^e 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 young 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 urge 

4^^ 



82 THE YOUNa CHTuISTlAN. 

upon them the importance of religion.- All in the room 
were affected — and she, though evidently moved, endeav- 
ored to conceal her feelings. 

" The interest in this great subject manifested by those 
present Vv^as such, that I informed them that I v^^ould meet, 
in a week from that time, any who wished for personal 
conversation. The appointed evening arrived, and I was 
delighted in seeing, with two or three others, Louisa enter 
my house, 

" I conversed with each one individually. They gener- 
ally, 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 con- 
verse with me upon the subject of religion, and yet was 
making an evident effort to appear indifferent. I had long 
felt interested in Louisa, and was glad of this opportunity to 
converse with her. 

" • Louisa,' said I, ' I am happy to see you here tliis 
evening, and particularly so, as you have come interested 
in the subject of religion.' 

" She made no reply. 

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

'"I always thought the subject important, 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 you feel that you are a sinner, Louisa ?' 

" ' I knoiv that I am a simier, 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 
favor while you are in such a state of mind ? He has made 



CONSEQUENCES OF NEaLECTINa DUTY. 83 

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 nov/ do wot feel that 
you are a sinner. "What would you think of a child whose 
kind and affectionate parents had done every thing in their 
power to make her 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 
gratitude for their kindness ? You, Louisa, would abhor 
such a child. And yet this is the way you have been treat- 
ing 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. x\nd why v/iil 
you not ? You know that Christ has died to atone for sin, 
and that God will forgive you for his Son's sake, if you are 
penitent.' 

" To this Louisa made no reply. 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 young ladies and a few others. She appeared 
much more deeply impressed. Her coldness and reserve had 
given place to a frank expression of interest and exhibition 
of feeling. 

" ' Well, Louisa,' said I, as in turn I commenced con- 
versing with her, ' I was almost afraid I should not see you 
here this evening.' 

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

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



64 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

" ' Yes, sir, I do.' 

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

" ' JMo, sir. It w^ould be just in G od to leave me to per- 
ish. I think I want to repent, but I cannot. I want to 
love God, but 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 ?" 

" ' Yes, sir.' 

" ' Well, Louisa, now count the cost ; are you ready to 
give up all for Christ ? Are you ready to turn from your 
gay companions, and lay aside your frivolous pleasures, and 
acknowledge the Saviour publicly, and be derided, as per- 
haps you will be, by your former friends, and live a life of 
prayer and of effort to glorify God ?' 

" 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 would be a Christian, you must 
renounce all sm, 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 
young ladies present, I had reason to believe, had accepted 
the offer 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 
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 



CONSEQUE-NCES OF NEaLECTING DUTY. 85 

were but little anticipated. These social meetings contin- 
ued 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 intc rest 
in Louisa'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. Li 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 lips 
parched with thirst. She seemed agitated when I entered 
the room, and the moment I stood by her bedside and in- 
quired how she did, she covered her face with both hands 
and burst into a flood of tears. 

" Her sister, who was by her bedside, immediately turned 
to me and said, ' Sir, she is m great distress of mind. Mental 
agony 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 I consistently could 
to soothe and quiet her. 

" ' But, sir,' said Louisa, ' I am sick, and may die ; I 
know that I am not a Christian; and 0, if I die in this state 
of mind, what will become of me ? What will become of 
me ?' and again she burst into tears. 

" ^Yhat 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 ; she felt 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 



86 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

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. 0, if I were but a Christian, I should be 
wilhng to die.' 

*' I told her of the Saviour's love. I pointed to many of 
God's precious promises to the penitent. I endeavored to 
induce her to resign her soul calmly to the Saviour. But all 
was unavailing. Trembling and agitated she was looking 
forward to the dark future. The Spirit of the Lord had 
opened her eyes, and through her own reflections had led 
her into this state of alarm. I knelt by her bedside and 
fervently prayed that the Holy Spirit Avould guide her to 
the truth, and that the Saviour would speak peace to her 
troubled soul. could they who are postponing repent- 
ance to a sick bed, have witnessed the suflering of this once 
merry girl, they would shudder at the thought of trusting to 
a death-bed repentance. How poor a time to prepare to 
meet God, when the mind is enfeebled, when the body is 
restless or racked with pain, and when mental agitation 
frustrates the skill of the physician. Yet so it is. One half 
the world are postponing repentance to a dying bed. And 
when sickness comes, the very circumstance of being unpre- 
pared hurries the miserable victim to the grave. 

" The next day I called again to see Louisa. Her fever 
was still raging, and its fires were fanned by mental sufler- 
ing. Poor girl I thought I, as the first glance of her counte- 
nance showed the strong lineaments of despair. I needed 
not to ask how she felt. Her countenance told her feelings. 
And I knew that while her mind was in this state, restora- 
tion to health was out of the question. 

" ' And can you not, Louisa,' said I, ' trust your soul 
with the Saviour who died for you ? He has said, " Come 



CONSEQUENCES OF NE&LECTINa DUTY. 87 

unto me, all ye that labor and are lieavy laden, and I will 
give you rest.'" 

" ' Oh, sir, I know the Saviour is merciful, hut somehow 
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 will be forgiven ; for God who gave his Son 
to die for us, is more ready to pardon than we to ask for- 
giveness. He is more ready to give good gifts to the pen- 
itent, than any earthly parent to give bread to his hungry 
child.' 

" I then opened the Bible at the fifteenth chapter of Luke, 
and read the parable of the prodigal son. I particularly 
directed her attention to the twentieth verse : ' When he 
was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compas- 
sion, and ran, and fell upon his neck, and kissed him.' 

*' ' 0, sir,' said she, ' none of these promises are for me. 
I fmd no peace to my troubled spirit. I have long been sin- 
ning against God, and now he is summoning me to render 
up my account ; and 0, what an account have I to render ! 
The doctor gives me medicine, but I feel that it does no good, 
for I can think of nothmg but my poor soul. Even if I were 
perfectly v>^ell, I could hardly endure the view wdiich God 
has given me of my sins. If they were forgiven, how happy 
should I be ; but now, !' — her voice was stopped by a fit 
of shuddering, which agitated those around her with the 
fear that she might be dying. Soon, however, her nerves 
v/ere more quiet, and I kneeled to commend her spirit to the 
Lord. 

"As I rode home, her despairing countenance was unceas- 
ingly before me. Her lamentations, her mournful groans, 
were continually crying in my ears. As I kneeled with my 
family at evening, I bore Louisa upon my heart to the throne 
of grace. All night I tossed restlessly upon my pillow, dream- 
insr of unavailing: efforts at this sick bed. 



88 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

" Another morning came. As I knocked at the door of 
her dwelHng I feit a most painful solicitude as to the answer 
I might receive. 

"'How is Louisa this mornmg?' said I to the person 
who opened the door. 

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

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

" ' no, sir. She has had a dreadful night. 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. 
I was surprised at the strength she still manifested as she 
tossed from side to side. Death was evidently drawing near. 
She knew it. She had lived without God, and felt that she 
was unprepared to appear before him. A few of her young 
friends were standing by her bedside. She warned them in 
the most affectmg terms to prepare for death Avhile in health. 
She told them of the mental agony she was then enduring, 
and of the heavier Avoes which were thickly scattered 
through that endless career she was about to enter. All her 
conversation w^as interspersed with the most heart-rending 
exclamations of despair. She said she knew that God was 
ready to forgive the smcerely penitent, but that her sorrow 
was not sorrow for sin, but dread of its awful penalty. 

" I had already said all that I could to lead her to the 
Saviour ; but no Saviour cast his love on this dying bed — ^no 
ray of peace cheered the departing soul. Youth and beauty 
were struggling with death ; and as that eye which but a 
few days before had sparkled with gayety, now gazed on to 
eternity, it was fixed in an expression of despair. 

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



CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTINa DUTY. 89 

" There ^vas nothing that could be said. The meanings 
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 her reason 
was gone, and in restless agony she was grappling with 
death. Her friends were standing around her, but she did 
not recognize them. Every ej^e in the room v/as filled with 
tears, but poor Louisa saw not, and heeded not their weep- 
ing. It was a scene which neither pen nor pencil can por- 
tray. At the present moment that chamber of death is as 
vividly present to my mind as it v/as 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 v/ildly 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 histor}^ and who knev/ that this delirium 
succeeded temporal, and perhaps preceded eternal despair ? 
Louisa could no longer listen to my prayers ; she could no 
longer receive the precious instructions of God's word. And 
what could be said to console her friends ? Nothing. ' Be 
still, and know that I am God,' was all that could be said. 
I could only look and listen with reverence, inwardly pray- 
ing that the sad spectacle might not be lost upon any of us. 
For some time I lingered around the solemn scene in silence. 
Not a word was spoken. All knew that death v/as near. 
The friends, who were most deeply affected, 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 I 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.' 



90 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

" ' Was her reason restored before her death ?' 
" ' 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 any more peaceful in mind?' 
*" Her friends thought, sir, that she did express a willing- 
ness to depart, but she was so. weak and so far gone that, 
it was impossible for her to express her mind with any 
clearness.' 

" This was all that could be said of the eternal prospects 
of one who ' ivished to live a gay and merry life till just 
before death, and then to become pious and die ha'ppy.' 
Header, 

" 'Be wise to-day — 'tis madness to defer.' " 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN 9l 

CHAPTER Y. 

ALMOST A CHP.ISTIAN. 
" Ye will not come unto me." 

The melancholy story related in the last chapter is not 
an uncommon one. It is the story of tliousands. All that 
is necessaiy, reader, to make the 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 approach you while you are thus unpre- 
pared. The gloomy forebodings and the dreadful remorse 
which darkened Louisa's last hours, must in such a case be 
yours. 

It was not my intention, when fomimg the plan of this 
work, to have it present religious truth and duty m gloomy or 
melancholy aspects. Religion is a most cheerful and happy 
thing to practice, but a most sad and melancholy thing to 
neglect ; and as undoubtedly some who read this book will 
read it only to understand 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 wliich she manifested in her dying 
hour was the work of conscience. The minister did all he 
could to soothe and calm her. Examine all the conversa- 
tion he had with her at her bedside, and you will find that 
it was the language of kind invitation. 

Sometimes such a dying scene as this is the portion of an 
individual who has lived a life of open and unbridled wick- 
edness. But, generally, contuiued impiety and vice lull the 



92 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

conscience into a slumber which it requires a stronger power 
than that of sickness or approaching death to break. Louisa 
was ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. She was nearly persuaded to 
begin a life of piety. In just such a state of mind, my read- 
er, it is very probable you may be. Perhaps, 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 G-od. 
When you read the second, you should have cordially wel- 
comed the Saviour as your friend, and chosen him as your 
Redeemer and portion. You ought to have been induced by 
the third to begin immediately a life of prayer, and to have 
been constant and ardent at the throne of grace since you 
read it. But perhaps you neglected all this. You under- 
stand 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 neglected it heretofore, by 
coming and confessing all your sins, and seeking forgiveness 
through Jesus Christ, who has died for you. Thus you well 
know waiat duty is. The solitary difficulty is, that you ivill 
7iot do it. 

But why ? What can be the cause of that apparent 
infatuation which consists in continually neglecting a duty 
which you acknowledge to be a duty, and v/hich you know 
It would increase your happiness to perform ? Were I to 
ask you, it is very probable you would say what I have 
known a great many others to say in your situation — it 
would be this : 

"I knov/ I am a sinner against God, and I wish to 
repent and be forgiven, and to love and serve my Maker, 
but I do nut tee how I cmiT 

My reader, is this your state of mind ? Many persons 



ALMOST A CHE.ISTIAIT. 93 

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 hap- 
piness of a new life, so that in some sense they desire it, but 
tlmt some secret cause which they have not yet discovered 
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 carefully, 
with a willingness to be convmced, and you will often pause 
to apply what is said to your own case. 

There are three very common causes which operate to 
prevent persons who are almost Christians, from becoming 
so altogether. 

I. A spirit of 'procrastination. AYaiting for a more 
convenient season. The following case illustrates this part 
of our subject. 

A boy of about twelve or fourteen years of age, a member 
of an academy, in which he is pursuing his studies prepara- 
tory to his admission to college, sees the duty of commencing 
a Christian life. He walks some evening at sunset alone 
over the green fields wliich surround the village in which 
he resides, and the stillness and beauty of the scene around 
him bring him to a serious and thoughtful frame of mind. 
God is speaking to him in the features of beauty and splen- 
dor in wliich the face of nature is decked. The glorious 
western sky remuids him of the hand which spread its glow- 
ing colors. 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 faint whispers of the dying even- 
ing 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 distinctly of the flight of time, 
and of the approach of that evening when the sun of his 



94 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

life is to decline, and this world cease for ever to be his 
home. 

As he muses on this scene, he feels the necessity of a 
preparation for death, and as he walks slowly homeward, he 
is almost determined to come at once to the conclusion to 
commence 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 from forming new acquaintances in a place he is 
so soon to leave. He reflects that he is soon to be trans- 
ferred to college, and that there he can begin anew. He 
resolves, that when he enters college walls, he will enter a 
Christian ; that he will from the first be known as one deter- 
mined to do his duty towards God. 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 thuiks he can thus avoid the 
awkwardness of a public 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 convenient sea- 
son." 

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 charac- 
ters to study ; and in these and similar objects of occupation 
and interest, week after week glides rapidly away. At last 
on Saturday evening, the last of the term, he is walking 
over the college grounds, and among the other serious reflec- 
tions that come upon his mind, there are the following : 



I 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 95 

" One whole term has now passed, and what have be- 
come of all my resolutions to return to God ? How swiftly 
the weeks have glided away, and I have been going farther 
and farther away from God and from duty. I find that I 
cannot in college, any more than in any other place, become 
a Christian without effort and self-denial. I must come 
boldly to the duty of giving up my heart to God and com- 
mencmg publicly a Christian life ; and whenever I do this, it 
must be hard at first. I will attend to the subject this vaca- 
tion. I shall be quiet and retired at home, and shall have 
a favorable opportunity there to attend to my duty and turn 
to God. I will come back to college next term a new man." 

Such are his reflections. Instead of resolving to do his 
duty noio, he looks forward again, notwithstanding his former 
disappointment, to another more convenient season. The 
bustle of the closing term, and the plans and preparations for 
the approaching vacation, soon engross liis mind, and instead 
of coming to his Maker at once and going home a Christian, 
he puts it off in hopes to return one. Yain hope. He will 
undoubtedly come back as he goes, procrastmating duty. 

Term after term and vacation after vacation pass away, 
and the work of preparation for another w^orld 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 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 pubhc 
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 subject which 
affects his standing in the estimation of his companions, 
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. 



96 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 bound him to them by ties which he is not 
Avilling 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 
action. Yet he dreads to break away from what gives him 
little' pleasure, and is thus bound by a mysterious and un- 
reasonable, but almost hopeless slavery. He leaves college 
either utterly confirmed in insensibility to religious truth, or 
else, M'hen he occasionally thinks of the subject, faintly hop- 
ing that in the bustle of future fife some more convenient 
seaso7i may occur, which he may seize as a time for making 
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 
walk of life. The secret of this procrastination is this : 
The subject of it is deluded by the chimerical hope of finding 
some opportunity of coming to God without real submission; 
some way of changing sides on a most momentous subject, 
M'ithout the mortification of changing — of getting right with- 
out the humiliating acknowledgment of having been wrong. 
Now these difficulties, which constitute the straitness of the 
gate through which we must enter, cannot be avoided. We 
cannot 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 directl}^ and decidedly to our Maker, to con- 
fess sin and to ask his forgiveness, must be done. The pub- 
lic acknowledgment that we have been wrong, wliich a 
public change of conduct implies, must be made, and it will 
be painful. Irreligious friends must, as intimates and asso- 
ciates, be abandoned ; and whenever that is done it will 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 97 

require 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 will- 
ing to do it noicV Are you willing to be, from this time, 
the servant and follower of Jehovah ; or are you trying the 
mad experiment of postponement and delay ? 

11. Love of th,e luoiid. This is the second of the 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 extensively in 
chaining the great mass of mankind down in their bondage 
to sin ; I speak only of those who feel some interest in this 
subject, who think they desire salvation, and are willing to 
do what God requires, but cannot. Under this second head 
I am to endeavor to show, that many of my readers wdio 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 tliis, unless you cooperate with me. If, M'hile you 
read it, you put yourself in an attitude of defence, you can 
easily set aside what I have to say. I shall suppose, how- 
ever, that you really wish to know, and that you will apply 
what I present, with impartiality and candor to yourselves. 

In one sense, it is right to love the world. God has 
made it for our enjoyment, and filled it with sources of hap- 
phiess for the very purpose of having us enjoy them. We 
are to look upon it, therefore, as a scene in which the Creator 
intended that we should be happy, and we are to derive 
fi'om it all the happiness that we reasonably can. 

There are, however, temptations in this world, as all will 
adiiit ; that is, pleasures which beckon us away from duty. 
When a young person begins to think of religious duty, these 
pleasures, which have perhaps long been enjoyed, come up 



98 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

to view — not very distinctly, but still with so much efTect 
as to blind the mind and harden the heart. Perhaps, my 
reader, you can think of some irreligious companion 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 relig- 
ion on the other, and after balancing their claims decide 
against God and duty ; although you make no formal decis- 
ion like this, yet the image of that friend, and the recollec- 
tion of the past pleasures of his society, and the prospect of 
future enjoyment, come into your mind and secretly hold 
you a prisoner. The chain is wound around your heart, and 
its pressure is so gentle that you scarcely perceive 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 cor- 
dially 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 ^friend that keeps you from the Sav- 
iour, but some other object. You may indulge yourself in 
some practice which conscience secretly condemns. Perhaps 
there is a favorite amusement which you must give up if you 
should become a consistent Christian. You do not distinctly 
bring this up before your mind, mto formal comparison with 
the hope of a happy immortality, and decide that it is supe- 
rior. It insinuates itself into your mind, and shuts its ave- 
nues 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 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN 99 

one soul in sin, the fear of it, in some form or other, hinds 
ten. Every one is surrounded hy a circle of influence, it 
may he small or great, which is hostile to piety. To take 
the attitude of a humhle Christian in the presence of this 
circle of acquaintances and friends, to abandon your past 
course of conduct with the acknowledgment that it has been 
entirely Avrong, and to encounter the cold and forbidding, or 
perhaps scornful looks of those whom you have been accus- 
tomed to call your friends — all this is trying. You shrink 
from it. You do not very distinctly take it into considera- 
tion, but it operates with an influence the more unmanage- 
able, 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 Maker. 

These three reasons are ordinarily the chief apparent 
causes why those who are almost Christians do not become 
so altogether. They are strong reasons. They hold a great 
many individuals in lasting bondage, and they will probably 
continue to hold many of my readers in their chains. It is 
no small thing, and with hearts and habits like ours it is 
no eamj thing, to become a Christian. 

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

" Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he 
hath, he cannot be my disciple." How strong an expression I 
What an entire surreiider of the individuals addressed does 



1-^0 THE YOUNCt christian. 

it require ! And yet he says, " My yoke is easy, and my 
burden is light." How is this? Does not the first declara- 
tion imply that the service of Christ is a hard service ? 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 diflerent 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 humble Christian. Now all these 
obstacles you must overcome. The world must be relin- 
quished ; the claims of even father and mother, if they inter- 
fere with duty to God, 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 burden 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, unless returning pride and worldliness renew the strug- 
gle. The goverimient of God in the soul, is a government 
which regulates, but does not enslave ; it diffuses over the 
heart unmingled peace and happiness. 

Let all then distinctly understand, that there is no be- 
coming a disciple of Jesus Christ without real submisdo7i, 
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 op- 
posed, and thus publicly and openly to change sides on a 
subject which divides the world. But it must be done. 
Enmity to God, or uncompromising submission to his will, 
is the only alternative. 

It is right that this should be the only alternative. Just 
look at the facts. The Creator of all has proclaimed as the 



ALMOST A CHEISTIAN. 101 

law of his empire, that all beings should love him supremely, 
and their fellows as themselves. We have always known 
that this was his laAV ; we know too that it is reasonable in 
its nature, and most excellent in its tendency. No rhan can 
say that it is not exactly calculated to diffuse universal hap- 
piness ; nor can any man deny that its almost unceasing 
violation here has filled the world with misery and crime. 
Now, excellent and reasonable as this law is, there are mill- 
ions in the human family who have spent all their lives in 
the constant violation of it. They know that they never 
have, for a single moment, loved God supremely, or loved 
their neighbor as themselves. Now all of us who are, or 
who have been in this state, have been plainly living in 
opposition to God and to the general haj^phiess. We have 
been violating known duty, contuiuing in acknowledged sin ; 
and the effect has not been confined to ourselves, the influ- 
ence has extended. Our example has been in favor of irre- 
ligion ; and as our sin has thus been public, can we complain 
that God should require our acknowledgment to be public 
too ? No ; submission to God must be entire, unqualified, 
unreserved, or vre 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 openly 
opposes 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 
community of Avhich you now form a part. These years 
will be m the very prime of your hfe. Your mfluence is 
now great ; it is increasing, and it must increase. God has 
brought you into this scene. Your original poAvers and your 
education you owe to him. The habits of industry and of 
integrity which you have acquired, v/ould not have been 
3^ours without his aid. He has held you up and brought 
you forward ; and nov/, as the opening prospects of useful- 



102 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

ness and happiness lie before you, he calls upon 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 alleviate 
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, if you will 
seek and love that Saviour yourself, and aim to promote his 
cause." " But no," do you say ? "I have been, I acknow- 
ledge, in the wrong, but I cannot bow to truth and duty, 
and humble pride — abandon my ground, and stand before 
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 especial claims upon you in your family circle. 
You are moulding the hearts of these children by your influ- 
ence, and the lineaments which your daily example is calling 
forth here are probably to last. You are doing work for a 
very long futurity. You endeavor to promote the happiness 
of your children for this life, but God shows the way to make 
them happy for ever, and he invites you to come and coop- 
erate with him in training them for the skies. But you 
cannot do this with the hope of acceptance unless your own 
heart is right with him. If you have been against him thus 
far, you cannot cooperate with him till you cease your oppo- 
sition, humble yourselves before him, accept of mercy by 
trusting alone in Christ for salvation, and resolve to enter 
upon the performance of all known duty. 

For example, you have perhaps hitherto neglected fa77iilij 
prayer; and you know you cannot do your whole duty till 
vou bow before Him at the fireside altar for the first time. 
Do you say this is a hard duty, and you cannot perform it ? 



ALMOST A CHEISriAN. 103 

Look well to the state of 3'our own heart. You must hum- 
ble yourself before God, and when you do so as you ought, 
there will be no very great self-denial in taking the attitude 
before your family of a pardoned smner, seeking mercy for 
yourself and them at the cross of Him who gave himself to 
die for man. 

Look at that youth, the favored 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 afiection. 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 relig- 
ion. He complies respectfully with all its external observ- 
ances, and in fine does all which he can do without being 
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 unwilling would 
he be that it should be Imown that he went to his pastor for 
personal religious instruction, or that he had taken any step 
which should admit before all that he had been himself, per- 
sonally, a guilty rebel against God, and that he wished to 
change sides now, and do good as openly and as publicly as 
he had before done injuiy. But 0, reflect ; you have taken 
an open stand against God, and are you not willing to take 
an open stand in his favor ? I know it is 23ainful — 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 oioen friends, and no generous mind can ask 
any easier conditions. 

Indeed, if another mode of entering the kingdom of heav- 
en had been proposed, we should ourselves see its impropri- 
ety. Suppose the Saviour were to say to a sinner thus : 
"You have been my enemy, I know. Li the controversy 
which has existed between God and his revolted subjects, 
you have taken the wrong side. You have been known to 



104 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

be without piety, and for many long years you have been 
exerting an influence against God, and against the happhiess 
of the creation. But I am ready to forgive you, if you wdll 
return to me now. And as pubhcly giving up in such a con- 
troversy 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 repent- 
ance shall be known 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 j)ride remonstrates, I will cut it down ; and if my 
comrades deride my change, I will bear their reproaches. 
They cannot injure me as much as my ungodly example and 
influence has injured them." 

Whether, however, the sinner sees the necessity of his 
being really humbled before he is forgiven, or not, God sees 
it — every holy being sees it ; and Jehovah's determination 
is fixed. AVe must submit, or we cannot enter his blessed 
kingdom. 

Do you not now, my reader, see what is the reason why 
you cannot be a Christian ? You say you wish to be, but 
cannot ; and in nine out of ten of such cases the difficulty is, 
you are not cordially willing to give uiJ 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 oi^en change, and this you shrink from. The 
jailer who came trembling to know what he must do to be 
saved, was told to beheve in the Lord Jesus Christ. How 
humihating I to appear the next morning a spectacle to the 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 105 

whole community — a stern public officer bowed down to 
submission through the influence of the very prisoners com- 
mitted to his charge. Yet he was willing to encounter it. 
And you, if you can consent to yield — to yield every thing — 
to throw down every weapon, and give up every refuge, and 
come now to the Saviour, bearing your cross — that is, bring- 
ing 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 reservations, 
while the world retams its hold and pride is unsubdued, and 
you are thus unwilling openly and decidedly to take the 
right side, is it unjust or unkind in God to consider you as 
upon the wrong one ? Far be it from me to advocate osten- 
tation in piety. The humble, retiring Christian, who com- 
munes with his own heart and with God, is in the right 
road to growth in grace and to usefulness ; but every one 
ought to be willing, and, if he is really penitent, ivill be 
willing, that the part he takes in tliis great question should 
be known. 

I now dismiss tliis subject, not to resume it again in this 
volume. Knowing, as I did, that there would undoubtedly 
be many among the readers of this book who can only be 
called almost Christians,, I could not avoid devoting a chap- 
ter or two to them. I have now explained as distmctly as 
I have been able to do it, the submission of the heart which 
is necessary to becoming a Christian, and what are the diffi- 
culties m 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 invite the 
others, those who cordially take the Saviour as their por- 
tion, to go on with me through the remaining chapters of the 
book, which I shall devote entirely to those who are alio- 
gether Christians. 

5^ 



106 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

CHAPTER YI. 

DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 

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

The young Christian, conscientiously desiring to know 
and to do his duty, is, at the outset of his course, perplexed 
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 cannot be 
removed ; the embarrassing perplexity, however, which 
arises from them, ahvays can, and it is to this subject that I 
wish to devote the present chapter. My plan will be, in the 
first' place, to endeavor thoroughly to convince all who read 
it, that difficulties must be expected — difficulties too which 
they cannot entire!}'' surmount ; and in the second place, to 
explain and illustrate the spirit with which they must be 
met. 

It is characteristic of the human mind, not to be willuig 
to wait long in suspense on any question presented to it for 
decision. When any new question or new subject comes be- 
fore us, we grasp hastily at the little information in regard to 
it within our immediate reach, and then hurry to a decision. 
"VYe are not often willing 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 consideration 
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. In 
expressing their opinions, they mention thmgs which they 
believe, and things which they do not believe ; but very few 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELiGMON. 107 

people have a third class of questions wliich 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 tliis is the secret of nine-tenths of the differ- 
ences of opinion, and of the sharp disputes by which this 
world is made so noisy a scene. Men jump at conclusions 
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 dilTer- 
ent part, and should consequently be led to different results. 
They then fall into a dispute, each presenting his own par- 
tial view, and shutting his eyes to that exhibited by his 
opponent. 

Some of the mistakes which men thus fall into are mel- 
ancholy ; 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 
with a proud and haughty look, and said to the by-standers, 
" This map is entirely wrong ; the Enghsh 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 
semibarbarous 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 confi- 
dence in their silly speculations, than in any evidence which 
their minds are capable of receivmg. 

But you will perhaps say, Do you mean to compare us 
with such savages ? Yes ; the human mind, in its tenden- 
cies, is everywhere 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 diffi- 
culty in grasping them, and we hurry to the same wild spec- 
ulations and false conclusions. 



108 THE YOTJITG CHRISTIAN. 

It is not surprising that the truths contained in a reve- 
lation from heaven should be beyond our grasp. We cannot 
even fairly grasp the truths relating to the mere physical 
motions of this earth. We know, for instance, that the dis- 
tinction doivnivard is only toivards the earth. Now let 
yoiyp imagination extend half round the globe. Think of the 
people who are standing upon it, exactly opposite to our- 
selves, and try to realize that downward is towards the earth 
there. You believe it, I know ; but can you, in the expres- 
sive 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 conse- 
quently it was, six hours ago, in a position the reverse of 
what it now is — so that the floor was in a direction cor- 
responding 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 j'our 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 doini or 2ip 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 realize 
that there would be no tendency in it to move in one direc- 
tion rather than another ? You may believe that it would 
not move ; but fix your mind upon it for a moment, and 
then look off from it, first in one direction, then in another, 
until you have looked in every direction, and can you make 
all these seem the same ? No ; Ave cannot divest ourselves 
of the impression that one of these is more properly up, and 
the other more properly down, though the slightest astro- 
nomical 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 lea^t until after 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 109 

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, describ- 
ing to us in some degree God's character and the principles 
of his government, there should be many things in it which 
we cannot now understand ? No. There are, and from the 
nature of the case must be, a thousand difficulties insuper- 
able to us at present. Now if we do not cordially feel and 
admit this, we shall waste much time hi needless perplexity. 
My object, in this chapter, is to convince all who read it, 
that they must expect to find difficulties, insuperable diffi- 
culties, in the various aspects of religious truth, and to try to 
persuade you to admit this, and to repose quietly in acknow- 
ledged ignorance, in those cases where the human mind can- 
not know. ,The difficulties are never questions of practical 
duty, and sometimes are very remotely connected with any 
religious truth. Some of them I shall however describe, not 
with the design of explaining them, because I purposely col- 
lect 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 pov.-er waste all that 
time, when it might have been employed in making millions 
and millions happy? The creation v/as not far from six 
thousand years ago, and six thousand years, compared with 
the eternity beyond, are nothing. So that it would seem 
that almost the whole of the existence of a benevolent and 
omnipotent Being, who delights m doing good and promot- 
ing happiness, has been spent in domg nothing. 

Perhaps some one will make an efibrt to escape from the 



no THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 eter- 
nity of solitude and inaction. 

E-emember, I say so far as lue can see, for I am far from 
beheving that Jehovah has ever wasted time. I know 
nothing 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 
of young persons, several of them gathered around me, and 
attempted to show that there was in fact no difficulty in 
this first case. 

" Why," said I, " what explanation have you ?" 

"I think," was the reply, "that God might have been 
creating worlds from all eternity, and thus never have been 
tmemployed." 

" 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 eter- 
nal and others not. The first which were created had no 
beginning ; but after a time, according to this hypothesis, 
Jehovah 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 coul(i 
not have been created." 

One of the party attempted to avoid this by saying, that 
though the wlwle series of creations has been eternal, yet 
that every loarticular creation may have been at some 
definite point of time ; so that each one loorlcl has had 



DIFFICULTIES IN E-ELiaiOiT. Ill 

but a limited existence, though the ivhole seriea 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 hovi^ God 
can have created that wliich has existed as long as he has 
himself?" 

This was the substance of the conversation, which, 
however, ui 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 present 
this subject as one that would perplex hijii, 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 
evening you have looked upon the stars of the sky, you have 
often wondered at the almost boundless extent of the crea- 
tion. That faint 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 around the heavens — 
storms have agitated and wrecked the skies — the moon has 
waxed and waned over it ; but it burns 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 unchanged, in the same place, and 
with the same brightness, and with precisely the same hue 
which it exhibited before the flood. 



112 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

It is a great blazing sun, burning at its immense distance 
■with inconceivable brightness and glory, probably surrounded 
by many v/orlds 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 tel- 
escope alone brings to view, are probably thus surrounded 
by life and intelligence and happiness in ten thousand forms. 
Stand now under the open sky, and 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 far wider regions of gloomy dark- 
ness and solitude that lie beyond. Make the circle of the 
habitable universe 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 works 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 por- 
tion unoccupied, and confine all his works to a region which, 
though immense to our conceptions, is, after all, but a little 
spot, a mere point, compared with the boundless expanse 
around ? 

Now, I by no means believe that there is such an 
immense void as my reasoning seems to prove there must 
be. My object is to show, that in these subjects which 
are beyond our grasp, we may reason plausibly, and only 
plunge ourselves in difficulties without end. Therefore on 
such subjects I distrust all reasoning. I never reason on 
them except for the purpose of showing how utterly the 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELiaiON. 113 

subject is beyond our grasp ; and in regard to such ques- 
tions, I have no opinion — I beHeve nothing, and disbelieve 
nothing. 

Third difficulty. The existence of suffering. It seems 
to me that tlie human mind is utterly incapable of explain- 
ing 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 
reasoning seems to be a perfect moral demonstration ; no 
person 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 ? 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 knov^^ 
We are just commencing our existence, just beginning to 
think and to reason about our Creator's plans, and we 
must expect to find hundreds of subjects v/hich we cannot 
imdej-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 was taught from his 3'outh to be a robber and a mur- 
derer ; he was trained up to blood : conscience did doubtless 
remonstrate ; there was a laAv written on his heart which 
condemned him ; but he was urged on by his companions, 
and perhaps by his very father, to stifle its voice. Had he 
been born and brought up in a Christian land with a kind 
Christian parent, and surrounded by the influences of the 



114 THE YOUNG CHUISTIAN. 

Bible and the cliiircli and the Sabbath-SQhool, he would 
undoubtedly never have committed the deed. And yet he 
must be punished for a crime \A^hich, had he been in our 
circumstances, 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 receives 
an injury which it can understand, a feeling of resentment 
comes up in his breast. It need not have been so — indeed, 
it would not have been so, but for the fall. 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 formation 
of character — the original tendencies and the circumstances 
of life by which they are developed or restrained. God has, 
therefore, the whole control in the formation of the charac- 
ter of every individual. 

This seems, at least to a great many minds, perfect dem- 
onstration ; and it brings us at once to that greatest of all 
questions in physics or metaphysics, 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 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELiaiON. 115 

difficulty, than almost any other question whatever : IIoio 
can man he accountable, when God lias had sucJo entire 
control in the formation of his character? 

I 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 
my assumptions. Of such an one I would simply ask, were 
he before me — after having heard all he should have 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 it certainly is ?" Every honest man will acknowledge 
that he is often, in his thoughts on this subject, lost in per- 
plexity, and forced to admit the narrow limit of the human 
powers. 

But again. No one denies that Gco(\. foreknou'S perfectly 
every tiling 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 will 
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 ascer- 
tain what you will say, and I have written here upon this 
paper every word you Avill utter to-day." 

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

" No," says the father, " every word you u'ill 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 bo}^ after such a statement, go away believ- 
mg what his fiither had said, and yet feeling that he himself 



116 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

could be, notwithstanding, free to act and speak that day as 
he pleased 1^ 

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 
difierence. We may consider our future conduct to be as 
clearly known, and as certain, as if our histories were mi- 
nutely written ; and where is the man — with perhaps the 
exception of a few who have made metaphysical philosophy 
a study for years — who will not acknowledge that this truth, 
which nobody will deny, throw^s a little perplexity over his 
mind when he looks at that moral freedom and entire ac- 
countability which the Bible and human consciousness both 
attribute to man ? 

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

Now this reasoning is very plausible ; but suppose the 
infidel to whom you present it should say, " But what brought 
God into existence ?" 

You answer, " He is uncaused.'' 

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

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

* Let it Idb remembered, that I am writing for the young, and am 
enumerating difficulties insuperable to them. A mind long accustomed 
to the accuracy of metaphysical 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 is no great 
difficulty jTor the young in this subject, let him try to convince an in- 
telligent boy, that, under such circumstances as are above described, 
he could be free to speak gently or angrily, solely according to his own 
free will. 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELiaiON. 117 

"And I suppose," replies the atheist, "that the world 
lias existed uncaused 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. jNTot with standing the difficulty of reasoning with an 
infidel who is determined not to be convinced, the proofs 
from marks of design are conclusive to every unbiassed mind. 
We know there is a God — every man knows there is ; 
though they' who are resolved to break his laws sometimes 
vainly seek shelter in a denial of his existence : like the fool- 
ish child who, when at midnight the thunder-storai rages in 
the skies, buries liis 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 confidence in 
all abstract reasonings upon subjects which are beyond my 
grasp. 

Sixth difficulty. How can God really answer prayer 
without in fact miraculously interrupting the course of na- 
ture ? 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 effectual 
fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much. Elias 
was a man subject to like passions as we are, and he prayed 
earnestly that it might not rain ; and it rained not on the 
earth by the space of three years and six months. And he 
prayed again, and the heaven gave rain, and the earth 
brought forth her fruit." James 5 : 16-18. 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, diflerently from what he 
otherwise would do, events beyond human control. Now 



118 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

how can this m fact be done without a miracle ? A niiracU 
is nothing more than an interruption of the ordinary course 
of nature. Now, if the ordinary course of nature Avould in 
any case bring us what we ask, it is plaui we do not owe it 
to God's answering 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 m.e 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 thousand 
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 by a divine interposition. 

But how can God answer this prayer without in reality 
interfering miraculously with the laws of nature ? If the 
young man would have recovered without it, then his resto- 
ration cannot very correctly be said to be in answer to prayer. 
If he recovers, when, without the prayer, he would have 
died, then it seems very plain that God must interfere some- 
%vliere to interrupt what w^ould have been the ordinary course 
of nature ; he must arrest supernaturally the progress of the 
disease, or give to medicine an efficacy which, without his 
special interference, it would not have possessed ; or suggest 
to his physician a course of treatment which the ordmary 
laws of thought would not have presented to his mind ; 
either of which, according to any pliilosophical definition, is 
a miracle. 

Now undoubtedly God, in some secret way that we 
cannot now understand, can, without disturbing the laws 
of nature, grant our requests. The -difficulty is merely one 
to our limited powers ; but to these powers it is insur- 
mountable. 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELiaiON. 119 

I might go on with such an enumeration to an indefinite 
length ; but I have, I hope, ah'eady 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 
beyond the grasp of his mind. It is enough for my present 
object, that each one will admit that same of them are. 
One will say that he can understand the subject of God's 
answering prayer ; another will think there is no difficulty 
in regard to God's foreknowledge of human actions ; and 
thus every reader will perhaps find some one of these which 
he thinks he understands. But will not each one acknoAV- 
ledge that there are S07ne which he cannot understand ? If 
so, he will cordially feel that there are subjects connected 
with important religious truth which are beyond the grasp 
of the human mind, and this conviction is what I have been 
endeavormg to establish. 

The real difficulties which I have brought to view in the 
preceding pages are few. They are only brought up again 
and again in difi^erent forms, that they might be more clearly 
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 sub- 
jects which the human mind cannot grasp, and they involve 
in difficulty every proposition of which they form an element. 
You may remove the difficulty from one part of the ground 
to the other, you may conceal it by sophistry, you may ob- 
scure it by declamation ; but, after all that you have done, 
it will remain a difficulty 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 explain the 
subject, remind me of the labors of a schoolboy endeavoring 
to solve an equation containing one " irrational term.'" He 



120 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

transposes the troublesome surd from one side to the other- 
he multipHes and divides it — he adds to it and subtracts 
from it — he tries involution and evolution upon it ; but not- 
withstanding 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 prac- 
tised mathematician will see, by a glance of the eye, that an 
insuperable difficulty is there. 

So these great moral subjects contam intrinsic and insur- 
mountable .difficulties, wliich it is most philosophical to ac- 
knowledge, not to deny or conceal. We ought to be willing 
to remain, in a measure, ignorant on such subjects, i^ tve can 
only distincily knoiv our duty. It is indeed best, in ordi- 
nary cases, to look into the subject — to examine it carefully, 
so as to find where the difficulty is — see what firm ground 
we 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 ivhat duty 
is, is in every case a practical question. The principles upon 
which that duty is required form often a mere question of 
theory, into which it is of no importance that we should 
enter. Shall 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 theo- 
retical. Now almost every question relating to the reasons 
which influence the Creator in his dealings with men — 
questions in regard to the essence of his character, the con- 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELICrlON. 121 

stitution of man as a moral being, tlie grounds on wliicli lie 
permitted the introduction of moral evil amidst the creations 
of his hand — these are theoretical questions. If we believe 
the plain declarations of the Bible in regard to the /acts on 
these subjects, those facts will indeed influence our conduct, 
but Ave may safely leave the theory to Him who has the 
responsibility of reigning in the universe. 

Take, for instance, the question of eternal punishment. 
There is a great deal of speculation on what ought and what 
ought not to be the doom of impenitent sinners who continue 
in sin during their period of probation. But what reasona- 
ble man who will refxcct a moment, can imagine that any 
human mind can take in such a view of God's administra- 
tion as to enable it really to grasp this question ? AYhat 
powers can comprehend so fully the nature and the conse- 
quences of sin and punishment — not for a few years only, 
hut fo)- ever ; and not upon a fev/ minds only, but upon the 
%i7iivers,e, as to be able to form any opinion at all in regard 
to the course wliich the Supreme ought to take in the pun- 
ishment of sin ? Why, the noisy, riotous tenants of a crowd- 
ed jail-room are far more capable of discussing the principles 
of penal jurisprudence than we are of forming any opuiion, 
upon abstract gromids, 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 their sen- 
tence, " The law decides this question ; we have notliing 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 a holy God cannot inflict eternal punislmaent, 
might I not say to liim, " Sir, why do you perplex me with 
the queation of the punishment of the enemies of God ? I 
have not that punishment to assign. God says, that the 
wicked shall go away into everlasting punishment. He has 
decided. I cannot stand on the eminence Avhich he occupies, 
and see all that led him to this decision. My duty is, to be- 



122 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

lieve what he says, and to escape as swiftly as I can to the 
Kefuge from that storm." 

Nine-tenths of the difficulties which beset the paths of 
young Christians would he 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 
leavmg the grounds of those decisions with him. 

This principle may be applied in a multitude of cases in 
■which Scripture declarations are a ground of doubt 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 ourselves in the theoretical 
speculations to which it may give rise. The duties it re- 
quires are plain and simple. Make effort yourself v/it|i pa- 
tient 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," etc., seem to imply that the 
power necessary to perform the duty rests with man, while 
the latter part of the verse, "for it is God," etc., 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 
how far are they the work of God ? 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 cap- 
tious 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-rulmg hand, we 
could understand it. Or if it had maintained that God reign- 
ed in the human heart, and controlled its em.otions and feel- 
ings to such an extent as to free man from the responsibil- 



DIFFICULTIES IN HELiaiON. 123 

ity, this too would be plain. But it ta.kes neither of these 
grounds. In some passages it plainly teaches us that all 
the responsibility 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 m 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 per- 
plexing to philosophy, are brought, by a moral daring lor 
which the Bible is remarkable, directly side by side in the 
passage before us. There is no softening of language to ob- 
scure the distinctness 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 fair and legible, and unalterable, upon the pages of 
the word of God — saying to us m language which we cannot 
misunderstand, you must make active and earnest efibrts 
yourselves in the pursuit of holiness ; and you must still sub- 
mit to the power that rules in your heart, and look for assist- 
ance to God, who works in you to ivill and to do. 

It ought however to be said again and again, that the 
difficulty is not a practical, but a theoretical one. There is 
no difficulty in making the efibrts required by the former 
part of the passage, and at the same time in feeling the de- 
pendence on God required m the latter. The difficulty is in 
understanding the principle upon which the two are found- 
ed. It seems to me that this is a very fundamental point. 
Persons seeking, or thinkmg that they are seeking to enter 
the kingdom of heaven, are often encumbered with these 
very difficulties. They cannot understand the comparative 
mfluence wliich God and man have over the human heart, 
and hence they remain at a stand, not knowmg what to do. 
They forget that the difficulty, great as it is, is one of specu- 
lation, not of action, and therefore they ought not to waste 
a thought upon it, until at least they have obtained peace 
with God. Two separate duties are required. We can 



124 THE YOUKa CHRISTIAN. 

understand tliem well enough, and they are not inconsistent 
with each other. Exert yourselves to the utmost in seek- 
ing salvation. What difficulty is there in this ? Place 
all your lioije of success in God. What difficulty is there 
in this ? And what difficulty is there in making exertion 
ourselves, and feeling reliance on »God at the same time ? 
There is none. It has been done a thousand times. It is 
done 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 understand 
it. The theory is involved in darkness, in which any who 
choose may easily lose themselves ; but the duties are plain. 
God has enjoined them, and, as dutiful children, we ought 
to feel that if he clearly tells us what we are to do, he 
may properly conceal in many cases the reasons of his re- 
quirements. 

There are three or four very common evils which, by 
taking up the subject of this chapter so formally, I have been 
wishing to remove. I will mention them : 

1. The useless i-teri^lexity 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 sinner, 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, trusting in 
Christ for pardon, resisting temptation, and commencing a 
life of practical piety, you immediately seize upon some the- 
oretical difficulty connected with theology, and trouble your- 
self about that. Perhaps you cannot understand how God 
influences the human heart, or how man can be accountable, 
if the Holy Spirit alone sanctifies. " How can I work out 
my own salvation," you say, " if it is God who worketh in 
me to will and to do ?" Or perhaps you perplex your head 
about the magnitude or duration of future punishment, or 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGMON, 125 

the number who will be saved, as though the admmistration 
of Jehovah's government would come upon your shoulders it 
you became a Christian, and you must therefore understand 
thoroughly its principles before you mcur such a responsibil- 
ity. How absurd I 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 rebel- 
lious spirit in school, and should be called upon by his teacher 
to reform, and should, after pausing a moment, begm to say, 
" I ought to conduct differently, I know, and I thmk seri- 
ously of returning to my duty. But there are some thinga 
about it which I do not understand." 

" What things ?" says the teacher. 

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

"Do you not know," replies the teacher, "that you now 
disobey me in cases where your father 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. JSTow I cannot understand what I ought to do 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 
once, in the thousand plain cases which are every day occur- 
ring, he looks every way in search of difficulties with which 
he hopes to perplex his teacher and excuse his neglect of 
duty. 



126 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 difficulties—* 
difficulties to your feeble powers — feeble originally, but ren- 
dered feebler still by your continuance in sin ? With these 
difficulties you embarrass yourself, and strive to perplex your 
minister, or your Sabbath-school teacher, or your parent, and 
thus find a momentary respite from the reproaches of a 
wounded spirit by carrying the war away from your own con- 
science, which is the proper field, into your pastor's or your 
parent's intellect. While the argument is going on here, 
your sense of guilt subsides, conscience is seared, and you 
fall back to coldness and hardness of heart. Nov/, why will 
you thus waste your time and your moral strength on ques- 
tions 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 a Christian. In bringing up 
to view so plamly the insuperable difficulties cormected with 
religious truth, I have been hoping to divert the minds of 
Christians from being perplexed and embarrassed by them. 
Once make up your mind, fully and cordially, that there are 
depths which the sounding-line of your intellect will not 
reach, and you will repose in the conviction that you do not 
and cannot now know, with a peace of mind which you can- 
not in any other way secure. How many persons perplex 
themselves again and again, and go on perplexing themselves 
all through life, in fruitless endeavors to understand thor- 
oughly the precise and exact relation wliich Jesus Christ 
bears to the Father. The Bible gives us clearly, and in 
simple and definite language, all about the Saviour which it 
is of practical importance for us to know. The Word iva'^ 



DIFFICULTIES IN EELiaiON. 15>7 

God, and the Word heca7ne ftesh, or man. Now just be 
willing to stop here. " But no," says some one who loves 
his Saviour, and wishes to understand his character, " I want 
to have clear ideas on this subject ; I want to know pre- 
cisely what relation he sustained to the Father before he 
became man. Was he in all respects identical ; or v/as he 
a different being, or a different person ; and what is the dif- 
ference between a person and a being ? When he became 
man, I want to knov/ 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 
BTble, you must rest here. Will you trust to your own spec- 
ulations ? 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 
conclusions. No mind can be trusted a moment to draw 
conclusions even from well established premises on a subject 
which it does not fully grasp. 

If you doubt this, just make th^ following experiment. 
Undertake to teach the elements of geometry to a class of 
intelligent 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 
themselves from the truths which their text-book explains, 
and you will soon be convmced how far the human mind 
can be trusted in its inferences on a subject which is beyond 
its grasp. Your pupils will brmg you apparent contradic- 
tions, arising, as they think they can show, from the truths 
established ; and will demonstrate, most satisfactorily to 
themselves, the most absurd propositions. In one case, an 
intelhgent scholar in a class in college attempted to demon- 
strate the absurdity of the famous " Forty-seventh." He 
drew his diagram, and wrote out his demonstration, an(? 



128 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

showed it to his class ; and it was long before any of them 
could detect the fallacy. The mathematical reader will 
understand this, and all may understand, that, in this case, 
the pupil made out a chain of reasoning perfectly satisfac- 
tory to his own mind, which however led to absurdity and 
falsehood. 

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

That is exactly what I wish you to say ; and to admit 
the same thing in regard to ourselves, as students of religious 
truth. We are ojiere 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, wdiich are all that are necessary for us to 
understand, and go to draiving inference?,, we involve our- 
selves in absurdity and falsehood, no matter how directly 
and inevitably our inferences seem to folloAV. 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 en- 
deavoring by his own blundering reasoning to upset the prop- 
osition of Pythagoras. 

These subjects, which are too difficult in their very nature 
for our powers, are the source of very many of the unhappy 
controversies which agitate the church. The mind is not 
capable of grasping fully the whole truth. Each side seizec 
a part, and building its own inferences upon these partia- 
piemises, they soon find that their own opinions come into 
collision with those of their neighbors. 

Morahsts tell the following story, which very happily 
illustrates this species of controversy. In the days of knight- 
errantry, when individual adventurers rode about the world, 



DIFFICULTIES IN E,ELiaiO:N. 12^, 

seeking employment in their profession, which was that of 
the sword, two strong and warhke knights, coming from 
opposite directions, met each 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 surface 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 
remarking that it was of brass. The knight upon the iron 
side of course did not receive the correction : he maintamed 
that he was right ; and, after carrying on the controversy 
for a short time by harsh language, they gradually grew 
angi-y, and soon drew their swords. A long and furious 
conibat ensued ; and when at last both were exhausted, 
unhorsed, and lying wounded upon the ground, they found 
that the whole cause of their trouble was, that they could 
not see both sides of a shield at a tim.e. 

Now, religious truth is sometimes such 3. shield, icith 
various asj^ects, and the human mind cannot clearly see all 
at a time. Two Christian knights, clad in strong armor, 
come up to some such subject as moral agency, and view it 
from opposite stations. One looks at the power which man 
has over his heart, and laying his foundation there, he 
builds up his theory upon that alone. Another looks upon 
the divine power in the human heart, and laying his own 
separate foundation, builds up his theory. The human 
nind is mcapable, in fact, of grasping the subject — of under 
standing how man can be free and accountable, and yet be 
so much under the control of God as the Bible represents. 
Our Christian soldiers, however, do not consider this. Each 
takes his own view, and carries it out so far as to interfere 
with that of tb^j other. They converse about it ; they talk 

6# 



130 THE rOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

more and more warmly ; then a long controversy ensues : if 
they have influence over 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 dependence 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 as far as the Bible goes, which is a great way. 
Fix in your heart that feeling of dependence and humility 
which this view is calculated 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 cannot 
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- 
vince Christians that thev cannot understand every thing 
connected with Christian theology, and to try to induce 
them to repose willingly and peacefully in a sense of igno- 
rance fully realized and frankly acknowledged. 

3. Difficulties of children. I have discussed this sub- 
ject 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 high- 
est intellect, is incapable of answering the questions which 
the youngest child can ask in regard to the truths of Chris- 
tianity. Do not expect it, then. You may ask questions 
freely, but when the answers are not perfectly satisfactory 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIOION. 13I 

to you, consider the subject as beyond the grasp of your 
present powers. Be satisfied if you can understand the 
iwinciples of duty, and spend your moral strength in en- 
deavoring to be as faithful as possible there. 

There is one other suggestion which I wish to make to 
you. When j^ou carry questions or difficulties of any kind 
to your parents or teachers, be very careful to be actuated 
by a sincere desire to learn, instead of coming as young 
persons very often do, with a secret desire to display their 
own acuteness and discrimination in seeing the difficulty. 
How often have young persons brought questions to me, 
when it has been perfectly evident that their Mdiole object 
was, not to be taught, but to show me their own shrewdness 
and dexterity. 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 dispute with your parent or your teacher, with a view 
to show your dexterity. If you have this spirit and exercise 
it, an intelligent parent will always detect it. 

4. Difficidties of i^arents and teachers. I wish to make 
this discussion the means of helping parents and teachers, 
and older brothers and sisters, out of one of their most 
common difficulties — I 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 great 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 ui 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 



132 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

move round it. It seems to me, therefore, that he would 
have been more hkely 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 countenance 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 removed. 
He either is absorbed in thinking how shrcAvdly 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 answered. 
He cannot be instructed while in this state of mind. 

" What, then, would you say to a boy in such a case ?" 
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 
order to enable you to be a good boy this week." 

And thus universally I would inculcate the importance 
of a humble, docile spirit, which will disarm every theoreti- 
cal difficulty of its power to perplex us, or to disturb our 
peace. 



EVIDENCES 'OF CHRISTIANITY. ISS' 

CHAPTER YIL 

EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 

^ G-od, M-ho at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto 
the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by 
his Son." 

The first inquiry -which meets us, in entering upon the 
consideration of this subject, is, "What sort of evidence are 
we to expect?" The only proper answer is, that sort of 
evidence which men require to produce conviction and to 
control the conduct in other cases. The human mind is so 
constituted, that men are governed by a certain kind and 
degree of evidence in all the concerns of life — a kind and a 
degree which are 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 favorite 
plans. Still, it is very far short of demonstration, or absolute 
certainty. For example, a merchant receives in his count- 
mg-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 j)urpose, 
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 miay have been forged ; or some evil-minded 
person having the article in question for sale, may have con- 
trived by stealth to alter the types, so as to cause the paper 
to make a false report, at least in some of the copies." 

Now in such a case would the merchant be influenced 
ill the sHghtest degree by such a sceptical spirit as this? 



134 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Would lie 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 somevv^here 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 business ; 
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 life m 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 -handwriting, 
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 has requested that liis father might be 
informed 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 
have forged this letter to impose upon me. 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 carefully 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." 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 135 

I will state one more case, though perhaps it is so evi- 
dent, 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 liis bed, the physician comes in to visit him. He 
looks for a few minutes at the patient, examines the symp- 
toms, and then hastily writes an almost illegible prescription, 
whose irregular and abbreviated characters are entirely un- 
intelHgible to all but professional eyes. You give this pre- 
scription 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 ppssibility of a mistake ? 
How easily might the physician, by substituting one barba- 
rous Latui name for another, or by making one little charac- 
ter too few or too many, have so altered 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 irri- 
tatmg stimulus, which should urge on to double fury the rag- 
ing of the disease, 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 



136 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

you to act, even in cases of life and death, on reasonable evi- 
dence, without waiting for the absolute certainty of moral 
demonstration. 

Now this is exactly the case with the subject of the 
Christian reUgion. 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 m all their other concerns. The 
evidence is abundant and satisfactory ; at the same time, 
however, any one who dislikes the truths or the requirements 
of this gospel may easily, hke the sceptical clerk in the case 
above-mentioned, make objections and difficulties innumera- 
ble. A man may be an infidel if he pleases. There is no 
such irresistible weight of argument that the mind is abso- 
lutely 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 can- 
not be an individual who can doubt it. In regard to Chris- 
tianity, however, as with all other truths of a moral nature 
which regulate the m^oral 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 chooses to close them. 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 history of Christianity, we 
find it was introduced into the world under very remarkable 
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, 



E\riDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 137 

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

3. And if we look upon the effects which the Bible pro- 
duces all around us upon the guilt and misery of society, 
wherever it is faithfully and properly apphed, we find it 
efficient for the purposes for which it was sent. It comes 
to cure the diseases of sin — and it does cure them. It is 
intended to lead men to abandon vice and crime, and to 
bring them to God — and it does bring them by hundreds 
and thousands. If we make the experiment with it, we find 
that it succeeds in accomplishing its objects. This we may 
call the experiinental evidence. 

These three kinds of evidence are so entirely distmct 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, who said 
it was phosphorus. This is the historical evidence : it relates 
to the history of the article before it came into your pos- 
session. In the second place, you examine it, and it looks 
like phosphorus. Its color, consistence, and form, all agree. 
This is internal evidence : it results from internal examina- 
tion. In the third place, you try it. It burns with a most 
bright and vivid flame. This last may be called experi- 
mental 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 )'ou, " I suspect your 
messenger was not honest;" or, "This is too dark or too 
hard to be phosphorus ;" your reply would be, " Sir, there 
can be no possible doubt of it. Just see how it burns " 



138 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

Just so with the evidences of Christianity. It is inter- 
esting to look into the historical evidences that it is a reve- 
lation from heaven, and to contemplate also the internal 
indications of its origin ; but after all, the great evidence 
which is most palpable, most convincing to the human 
mind, and on which it is best for Christians generally, and 
especially young Christians, chiefly to rely, is the experi- 
mejital — the effects of the gospel, under the agency of the 
Holy Spirit, in changing the character and saving from suf- 
fering 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 time of his making it, accompany the revela- 
tion 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 with their sub- 
jects, 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 Vv^ax 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 other de- 
vices have been resorted to by persons in authority to authen- 
ticate their communications. 

In the same manner it is reasonable to expect that Jeho- 
vah, 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 
mankind, that we could not possibly tell, when a pretended 
revelation comes to us, whether it was really a revelation 
from heaven or a design of wicked men, unless God should 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 139 

set some marks upon it, or accompany it with some indica- 
tions 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 
pov/er 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 this power to sanction imposture, 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 exam- 
ined, 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- 
factoiy nature of this evidence, than a comparison of it with 
that usually relied on in courts of justice. In order, then, to 
exhibit the former distmctly, I shall minutely describe the 
course pursued, and to make my description more definite, I 
shall select a particular case. 

I was once walking in the streets of a large city, in which 
I was a stranger, looking around for some striking exhibi- 
tions of human character or efibrts, when I saw several per- 
sons, of apparently low rank in Hfe, standing before the door 
of what was apparently some public buildmg. I thought it 
was probably a court-house, 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 
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 



140 THE YOUXa CHRISTIAN. 

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 ui 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 apart- 
ment where the prisoners were kept. 

Not long after I had taken my seat, the clerk said that 

the next cause was the trial of B for housebreak- 

mg. The judge commanded an officer to bring the prisoner 
into court. The officer went to the iron door I have de- 
scribed, 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 
constitution 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 /isten to his 
trial. 

The clerk read the accusation. It was, that he had 
broken open an unoccupied house once or twice, and taken 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 141 

from it articles belonging to the owner of the house. The 
judge asked him if he pleaded guilty, or not guilty. He 
said, Not guilty. The judge then asked the jury at the 
side to listen to the evidence, so that they might be pre- 
pared 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 on all 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 can ask 
questions, and thus examine the witnesses in such a mamier 
as to bring out fully all the facts m 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 on the part of the prisoner, who takes 
care that nothing is omitted or lost sight of which would be 
in liis favor. When the prisoner has not procured any coun- 
sel, the judge appoints some one for him ; this was done in 
the case before us. 

The first witness called was the owner of the house. It 
is necessary that each witness should be a man of good char- 
acter, and that he should testify only to what he saw or 
heard. No one is permitted to tell what some one else told 
him ; for stories are very likely to be altered in repetition ;. 
so that, even in a complicated case, each man goes only so 
far as Ids own ijersonal knoidedge 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 permitted to write dowai his 
account and send it in. But no ; every witness, where it is 
possible, must actually come into court and present his evi- 
dence with his own voice. This remark it is important to 



142 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

remember, as the prmciple will come to view when we con- 
sider the other case. 

This witness testified, that he owned a certain house ; 
that he moved out of it, and locked it up, leaving some arti- 
cles in an upper chamber ; that one day he went in and 
found that the house had been entered, I believe by a win- 
dow, and that the chamber-door had been broken open, and 
some of the articles taken away. He said that he then em- 
ployed a watehman to sleep in the house, and to try to catch 
the thief 

Here he had to stop ; for, although he knew how the 
watchman succeeded, he was not permitted to tell, for he did 
not see it. No man testifies except to v/hat 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" 

"Didyoudoit?" 

*'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 fifteenth of June, as I was then watch- 
ing, 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 142 

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 if he 
had any questions to ask, and he did ask one or two, but 
they were not material. The jury then consulted together; 
and all agreed that the prisoner was proved guilty ; and tho 
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 w^hich all trials are con- 
ducted. Three or four points are considered very necessary : 
first, that the witnesses should be of good character ; second, 
that they should have actually witnessed what they describe ; 
and third, 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 wit- 
ness himself always come, if it is possible, even if he has to 
leave most im.portant business for this purpose. If, from sick- 
ness or any other similar cause, he cannot come, his testi- 
mony 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 deposition. The 
second pomt 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 complicated, a very large 
number of witnesses are called before the whole case is pre- 
sented to the jury. The first point 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. I alter the arrangement, 
however, placing them now in the order in which it is most 
convenient to examine them. 



144 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAJS. 

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

2. We must ascertain that they had distinct opportuni- 
ties 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 whether 
we have exactly the account which they themselves give. 
Witnesses are commonly called into court to tell their own 
story, and then there can be no mistake. If that is impos- 
sible, as I remarked above, their deposition is taken with 
certain forms, and the very paper they originally 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 period. Time has entire- 
ly destroyed all vestiges of the writings 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 
innumerable hordes, began 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 
miany 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 prop- 
erty of civilized life, and brought a long period of ignorance 
and semibarbarism, called the "dark ages," upon the world. 
After some time, however, there began to be in-various parts 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 145 

of Europe a graduar improvement. The monks in the vari- 
ous convents having no other employment, began to explore 
the old libraries and to study the books. They made them 
selves acquainted with the languages in which they were 
written, and when the art of printing was invented they'pub- 
lished them. In consequence, hoAvever, of the immense num- 
ber of manuscripts collected in some of the libraries, a long 
time elapsed before they were fully explored, and even now 
the work is not absolutely completed. New writings are 
occasionally brought to hght and published. The difficulty 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 de- 
pended upon. If they could 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 Europe, and are preserved in the 
libraries 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 manuscripts actually 
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, 
fail in this case. We must resort, therefore, to another 
method equally certain, but difierent in form. 

The evidence relied upon to prove that the books we 



14G THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

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 
themselves, 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 customary to quote now, because the art of printing 
puts every important book within the reach of all who are 
interested m 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 passage 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 Vati- 
can manuscript, as it is called, that is, a very ancient man- 
uscript preserved in the hbrary of the Vatican at E-ome, is 
supposed to have been written about four hundred years 
after Christ. 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 writ- 
ing a book, and in it had mentioned John's gospel, and had 
copied out a whole chapter. This book he leaves at Anti- 
och : 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 manuscript. In the same manner another 
chapter might have been quoted in another book kept at 
Alexandria, another at Home, etc. Now the fact is, that 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 147 

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 writ- 
ten, and coming down to modern times. Every chapter and 
verse' is not indeed confirmed 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 be any neces- 
sity 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 favor of the genuineness of the sacred 
books. These quotations have been most carefully exam- 
ined and republished ; so that all who are inclined to go 
into an examination 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 attainments — for there are very fcAV, 
excepting professed scholars, who can have time to go fully 
enough into an examination of this subject to form an inde- 
pendent judgment. I have not attempted in the above 
remarks to present you with the argument 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 of these almost innu- 
merable quotations from the writers of the New Testament, 
and copies and translations from them, forming a series 
which commenced soon after the wTitings first appeared, 
and continuing in uninterrupted succession down to the 
present time, as abundant evidence that the story ivc noic 
Jiave, is the story origi7ially given by the witnesses them- 
selves. This evidence does satisfy all who fully examine it. 
And this is the first point in the investigation, 



118 THE YOUNG CIIEISTIAN. 

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- 
fully 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 dis- 
satisfied with the prevailing errors and superstitions, and 
had taught a purer system of religious and moral duty. His 
followers become strongly attached to him. They repeat 
to one another his instructions, follow him from place to 
place, and soon attract the attention of the authorities of the 
country. He is persecuted by his enemies, and put to death. 
After his death, his disciples make greater and greater 
efibrts to promote his principles. They relate, with some 
exaggeration, the incidents of his life. His benevolence and 
kindness to the sick and to the afflicted are gradually, as 
the stories are repeated again and again, magnified to the 
exertion of miraculous power. One extraordinary narrative 
after another gradually gains credit and circulation. JNTo 
one intends to deceive, but according to the universal ten- 
dency in such cases, even where stories that strongly inter- 
est the feelings are circulated among good men, the accounts 
gradually and insensibly assume a marvellous and miracu- 
lous air, and after a time, when years have elapsed, and no 
method of ascertaining the truth remains, these exaggerated 
and false stories are committed to writing, and these writ- 
ings come down to us. This supposition might very plau- 
sibly have been made. But the evidence afibrded by the 
series of quotations I have above described cuts it ofi^ alto- 
gether. That long and uninterrupted series carries us irre- 



EVIDENCES OF CHEISTIANITY. 149 

sistibly back to the very time when the events occurred 
There is no time left for exaggeration and misrepresentation. 
"VYe prove that the accounts wliich Ave now have were 
written on the spot — that they were in circulation, and 
exposed to rigid scrutiny immediately after the events 
themselves took place — and we are thus compelled to be- 
lieve 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 at- 
tempted to prove them trac. AYe have not yet come to 
the examination of the evidence itself at all. The original 
witnesses, 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 
before us. It is simply to show that the accounts we have 
now, whatever they may contain, are the very accounts 
whiclb the u-itnesses themselves ivrote.. The depositions are 
properly authenticated ; not, indeed, by the common legal 
forms — seal and signature and witness — ^but by abundant 
evidence, and evidence of exactly the kind which is always 
most relied 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 hi mind, the reader is requested to look 
back to page 144, for an enumeration of the points to be 
examined, and he will recollect that we have yet discussed 
only the first, and proceed now to the second. 

2. We 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 



150 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

taken. It is common to ask witnesses on the stand, in a 
court of justice, about the opportunities they had of know- 
ing certainly, or the possibility that they might be mis- 
taken, 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 statements are discredited 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 ?" 

" 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 v/itness had a 
most excellent opportunity to know what he described, and 
that there was no possibihty of mistake. Suppose, how- 
ever, that the thief had been active enough to have run 
down stairs and escaped, allowmg the witness only a glimpse 
of his person, and the next day the witness had met a man 
in the street whom he supposed to be the same, and had pro- 
cured his arrest and trial, the jury would in this case have 
placed far less confidence in his testimony, even if they 
knew that he was a very 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 timtg 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 
going through a dark wood by night. Few would believe 
liim, however honest a man he mijrht be, on account of the 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 151 

great danger of being deceived iix-^going through a scene full 
of irregular objects, such as the varieties of vegetation, 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 experienr^e he has, know how much the ben- 
efit he experienced 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 all 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 v^^as only a case where he 
had distinct and iinquestionahle oi:>iwrtunity 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 onistaken. They must have known 
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 deceived : heal- 
ing what are called incurable diseases ; feeding multitudes 
with a small supply of food ; walking on the sea ; rising 
from the grave, after remaining upon the cross till Roman 
soldiers were satisfied that life was gone. Who could be a 
better judge of death than a Roman soldier ? These, and a 



152 THE YOUNa CHJIISTIAN. 

multitude of 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 conse- 
quently if the third point, that is, their honesty, should be 
proved, we must believe what they say. If they had in- 
formed us only of a few miraculous events, and those seeii 
by a few people, or of such a character as to render the wit- 
nesses pecuharly liable to be deceived, we might have admit- 
ted their honesty, but denied the truth of their statements. 
As it is, however, we cannot do this, 

Kot 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 accoiuits were eye-witnesses of them. 
They did not obtain a knowledge of them by hearsay or 
report : they wrote what they themselves saio 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 unto 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. But 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 selec- 
tion to those who had been from the beginning witnesses 
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 Avell what 
was necessary to make out a case, and they secured it. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 153 

"VYe have now explained how the first two points in our 
chain of reasoning are estabhshed, and we may consider it 
as certain, in the first place, that though our witnesses are 
not living, and consequently cannot present us their testi- 
mony in person, and although so long a time has elapsed 
that their original writings are worn out and destroyed, yet 
that there is 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-Avitnesses 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 testunony can be set aside, except 
by the supposition that they were impostors. This brings 
us to our third and last point, mentioned on page 144. 

3. AYe must have evidence that our witnesses are credi- 
ble ; that is, 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 manner in which they relate 
their story is evidence ; it is plain, straightforward, and sim- 
ple. Their writings have exactly the air and tone of men 
conscious that they are telling the truth, but aware that it 
will be regarded with very difierent 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 palli- 
ating or extenuating statements or expressions on the one 
side, nor any disposition to apply epithets of odium or exag- 
geration 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 



154 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

two individuals or two parties. Open any history of the 
campaign in Russia or of the battle of Waterloo, 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 unparalleled 
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 his opinion. Take, for instance, 
the account of the preference of Barabbas by the Jews. 
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 liberty on the 
day of their great festival, they chose a base malefactor 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 at- 
tempt in his account to make a display of the guilt of the 
Jews — no effort to throw odium upon them — no exaggera- 
tion — no coloring. " 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 Tes- 
tament : 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. Exposed 
to most extraordinary persecution and consequent suffering, 
they never revile or retort upon their oppressors. It is im- 



EVIDENCES OF CHEISTIANITY. loo 

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 seem to have felt that they were speaking, not to a 
few thousand cotemporaries in Judea, but to countless mill- 
ions of human beings, scattered over the earth, or coming 
up, generation after generation, to read their story, to the 
end of time. They rise entirely above all the influences then 
pressing so strongly upon them, and in calm and fearless 
independence offer their testimony. They could not have 
done this — it is not in human nature to do it — had they not 
been sustained by this consideration, namely, they knew 
that they toere telling the truth on the most momentous 
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 entire- 
ly disinterested ; or rather, they were interested to conceal 
the truth, not to tell it. Their testimony brought them 
nothing, and could bring them notliiiig but reproa.ch and 
sufi^ering and death. They saw this in the history of the 
Saviour, and instead of endeavoring to keep them uncon- 
scious of the suflerings 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 recorded 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 has been to me. They have 
persecuted me, and they will persecute you. They will put 
you out of the synagogues, and whosoever killeth you will 
think he doeth God service. I tell you these things before- 
hand, so that when the time shall come, you will remem- 
ber that I told you, and be comforted. 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 



156 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

you tliese things. It is necessary for me to go away, and. 
it is Jiecessary 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 fmd a perpetual home with me and my Fa- 
Iher in a happier world." 

Such was the substance of this part of our Saviour's 
farewell 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, making calmly, 
but with fixed determination, their arrangements for future 
efforts, and waiting for the command from above — one hun- 
dred and twenty in an upper chamber, planning a campaign 
against the world I They knew, they must have known, 
that thfey themselves went forward to suffering and to death. 
They went forward, however. They told their story. They 
suffered and died. Must they not have been honest men ? 

The way in which men are interested is always to be 
considered in judgmg of their testimony. If a juryman is 
interested in the result of a trial, he is set aside ; he cannot 
judge impartially. If a witness is interested at all, his tes- 
timony is received with a great deal of caution, or else abso- 
lutely rejected. And whenever a case is of such a nature 
that all those who were witnesses of the facts are interested 
on one side or on the other, it is extremely difficult to ascer- 
tain 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 pre- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 157 

pared 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, conceived 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 wdiich Boston is built, and 
sailed across the cove to the main land. 

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 num- 
ber of troops were collected at Lexington to oppose the prog- 
ress of the British detachment. 

Now, neither party wished to hegiii 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 w^ould think, but yet made 
so by those concerned at the time, "Who began this affray ? 
Who ^xedi first?'' To determine this point, the American 
Congress are said to have instituted a formal inquiry. They 
examined witnesses who were on the spot and saw the 
whole, and they found abundant and satisfactory 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 Parliamicnt entered into a 
similar inquiry, and they came to an equally satisfactory 
conclusion — only it happened to be exactly the reverse of 



158 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

the other. They exammed 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 compelled 
to do it in self-defence. Now, the reason for this disagree- 
ment unquestionably was, that each nation examined only 
its own soldiers, and the soldiers on both sides were inter- 
ested. Suppose now, that there had been in the American 
army a considerable number who admitted that the first guns 
were fired from their own ranks. Suppose that, in conse- 
quence 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 upon such testimony ! " There cannot be a doubt," 
the British would have said, "that you fired upon us first — 
half of your oivn trooi:)S say so." This would have been a 
very fair inference. When men bear testimony contrary to 
their own interests or feelings, they are generally believed. 

"We have thus abundant evidence that the original prop- 
agators of the gospel were honest men, and this completes 
the three positions necessary to prove that the Christian 
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 w^e have exactly the account which 
they themselves gave. 

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

There is one other independent head of the external 
evidences 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 159 

with the power, not only of working miracles, but of 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 
commg 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 rem.ove 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 m neighboring coun- 
tries, a general expectation that an extraordinary personage 
was to appear. We have evidence enough of this — not 
•merely from the Scriptures themselves,.but from a multitude 
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 mmd of any one v/ho will 
examine the subject, that the coming of Christ was 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 appeared ; the most extra- 
ordinary, 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 before 
it took place; and there was, at the time of the prediction, 
no reason whatever, so far as human foresight could extend, 
to expect such a catastrophe. 



160 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 
which is alleged to have occurred in fulfilment of it. Sec- 
ondly, that the event is such an one as human sagacity could 
not have foreseen. Thirdly, that there were not, in similar 
writings, a multitude of other prophecies which failed, and 
that those only have been preserved which have apparently 
succeeded. 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 here only explain its 
nature, and thus prepare you to read more understandingly 
other works on this subject. Those who have gone into it 
most thoroughly, as is the case with all the historical evi- 
dences of Christianity, have been most convinced of the 
firmness of the ground. The most profound scholars in all 
Christian nations, if they have given the subject due atten- 
tion, have been most decided in their belief 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 a clear idea of the nature of this kind of reasoning, not 
to present all the facts upon which the various pillars of the 
argument are founded. And here I might rest this part of 
my subject, were it not that there is one consideration which 
corroborates very much the conclusion to which we have 
come. The question very naturally arises, " Was this story 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIAinTY. 161 

believed at the time ? It seems to be a plain case, that the 
disciples of Christ made out ver}' decisive evidence of their 
divine commission ; but the people who lived at that time, 
and upon the spot, had a much better opportunity of judg- 
mg in this case than we have. Now, did they believe this 
account?" 

The answer is, it teas believed. The story spread with 
a rapidity to which no other revolution in the public mind 
can aflbrd a parallel. When the hundred and twenty assem- 
bled in their upper room, paganism was enjoying undisturbed 
and unquestioned possession of the whole Roman empire. 
Paganism reigned in every crowded city and in every distant 
provmce. Her temples crowned a thousand summits ; and 
the multitude, whose interests were identified with the sup- 
port of her rights, might at any time arm themselves with 
all the power of the Csesars to resist the encroachments of 
truth. A hundred and twenty, with the story of a crucified 
Galilean rising from the dead, came forth to attack tliis 
mighty fabric ; and they prevailed. Opprobrium and ridi- 
cule, gentle persuasion and stern menaces ; imprisonment, 
fire and sword, torture and death, tried all their powers in 
vain. And by what means did the fearless assailants in this 
most unequal war prevail against such an array as this ? 
Why, simply by reiterating the declaration, Jesus Christ did 
rise from the grave; and you ought to o-eiDent of your sins 
and believe on him. And they conquered. " The truth is 
great, and it will prevail," said a Roman writer. He could 
not have found an example like tliis. The simple declara- 
tion of a number of competent witnesses, after a most ener- 
getic struggle, prevails over one of the greatest civil and 
military powers which the world has ever seen. Yes ; the 
story was believed. It spread with unexampled rapidity, 
and is revolutionizing the moral world. 

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



162 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

II. INTERNAL EVIDENCE. 

This evidence consists of an examination of the contents 
of the Bible, to see whether the declarations it contains are 
such as we may suppose would really come from our Maker. 
We ought to enter upon such an examination, 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 indica- 
tions, with which the volume is filled, that it is from God. 
Some of these indications I shall mention. 

1. The remarkable simpKcity 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 what distant peri- 
ods it was v/ritten. 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 Avritten are scattered over a period of fifteen 
hundred years. The authors are numerous. It would be a 
very interesting exercise for young persons to attempt to 
make out an accurate list of them. They are of every vari- 
ety of character and standing — learned and unlearned, rich 
and poor, kings, poets, generals. There is every variety in 
the character of the authors and of the style ; and yet one 
single, simple design is kept in view from the beginning 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 sinners by 
Jesus Christ, and it is nothing more. From the beginning 
to the end of it, with a very few, if any exceptions, it is 
nothing but that. Open at Genesis and follow on, chapter 
after chapter, and book after book, until you come to the 
final benediction in the last chapter of Revelation, it all 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 163 

bears upon this. Now if this book was planned by the Su- 
preme, and if he superintended its execution durmg the fifteen 
centuries 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 inten- 
tion was to have had a happy community to tenant it, who 
should be united in each other, and united to him ; forming 
one family of undivided hearts and aims, all interested in 
the common welfare, and all looking to him as to the common 
bond of union and the common source of happiness. " Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy 
neighbor 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 suf- 
fering upon the human family. The-earth was filled with 
violence. One dreadful 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 is the history of the Jews. There 
were the Eg}'ptians, the Assyrians, and the Persians. The 
sacred history neglects them all, and turns its whole attention 
to a body of Egyptian slaves ; and why ? Because among 
these slaves there was the ancestor of the coining Messiah. 



164 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

The Bible represents Jehovah as conductmg this nation 
by his 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 commmiica 
tions with men. A great part of the Old Testament history 
is occupied in giving us an account of the particular institu- 
tions established among this people, and of the circumstances 
of their own private history. In regard to their institutions, 
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 important, was 
effected by the institution of sacrifices : of this I shall pres- 
ently speak more fully. This Jewish nation, however, in its 
institutions and history, is followed by the sacred writers, 
who keep all the time as close as possible to the line of suc- 
cession leading to Jesus Christ. The commg Saviour is often 
alluded to, especially whenever any great crisis occurring in 
their history furnishes an occasion upon which God 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 ances- 
tors 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 takhig 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 atoning blood — that 'penitence is ijisiijjicient. AVe 
are all much more ready to admit tliis in reference to any 
other government than to the divine. j\Iany a father sees 
the inefficacy of pardon, merely upon the ground of sorrow 
and confession, to restrain his sons from sin ; and many a 
politician will admit the folly of such a course in civil soci- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 165 

ety, who yet thinks 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 sun. "\Yherever you go — to the most distant heathen, 
nation — to the most barbarous tribe — or to the remotest 
island of the ocean, you will find almost all prepared, by the 
very customs which have been handed down from the time 
of Noah, to admit the necessity, that thei-e onust be retribu- 
tive suffering iclicre there has been si7i. God required the 
Jews, when they had done wrong, to bring an ofTering — not 
to lead them to suppose that the sufTerings of bulls and 
goats could take away sin, but that some atonement was 
necessary. The efiect 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, Avhich he Azwzsf//' could 
not repair. He could not come back to innocence alone. 
The ceremony must have had a most powerful 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 liim. "VYe have sinned, 
and the evil we have done it is out of our power to remedy. 
"\Ye may stop simiing, but the evil influence 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 sacrifices of their law, had this feeling 
thoroughly wrought into all their thoughts and feehngson 
the subject of sin and pardon. When they came with 



166 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sincere penitence to offer the sacrifice required by the law, 
and with such a feehng as I have described, they were un- 
doubtedly forgiven through the mediation of a far greater 
sacrifice, which was only reinc^eiited by the dove or the 
lamb. 

If we thus look at the Jewish history and institutions, 
and examine their spirit and design, we shall see that they 
all point to Christ. One single object is aimed at in all. 
After the history is brought down to the return from the cap- 
tivity, it is suddenly concluded — and why ? Because all is 
now ready for the coming of Christ. There is a chasm of 
several hundred years, not because the events of that time 
are less interesting 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 
redem'ption of man1ci7icl by Jesus Christ, to which the 
whole Bible tends. The nation in which the promised 
Saviour is to come, is followed in its various difficulties and 
adventures, until it becomes finally established in the coun- 
try where the Messiah 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 this object is kept stead- 
ily in view. 

As we draw towards the development of the great plan 
of salvation, the story becomes more minute, and the interest 
increases. 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 whicii it 
draws, and in others dark, and as yet unintelligible to us — 
closes the volume. 

There is something deeply sublime in the language with 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 167 

which this final conclusion of the sacred volume is an- 
nounced. Perhaps it was intended to apply particularly to 
the hook of Revelation itself, hut we can scarcely read it 
without the conviction, that the writer felt that he was 
bringing to a close a series of communications from heaven 
which had been in progress fifteen hundred years. The 
great subject of the whole was now fairly presented to man- 
kind. The nature and the efiects of sin, the way of salva- 
tion, and the future scenes through which we are all to pass, 
had been described, and he closes with the invitation — 
how cordially 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 
heareth it repeat the sound. " Let him that is athirst 
come ; and whosoever wHl, let liim take the water of life 
freely." 

And then he says — and how appropriate for the last 
words of the Bible — 

" I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the 
prophecy of this book, If any man 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 
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 begimiing to end. Amidst all that endless variety 
which makes it an inexhaustible mine of interest and in- 
struction, the great tdtimate design is never lost sight of or 
forgotten. That design is, the redemption of a lost ivorld 
by the Son of God — a design wliich is surely great enough 
for God to announce to his creatures. 

There is something interesting in the time and ^.Vacc 
selected for the advent of the Saviour. This earth being a 
globe, of course has not, that is, its surface has not any 



168 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

geographical 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 sufi^erings and death of Christ. Look upon the 
map, and you 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 connections 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 E-oman empires on the west. 
India and China, with their immense multitudes, are upon 
one side, and modern 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 quarters 
of the globe, and bearing upon its bosom a large proportion 
of all the ships that sailed for the first five thousand years 
of the 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 
darkness and paganism to the present day, its history hav- 
ing remained, in other respects, the same as it has been, 
and we had looked over it to find the best station for an 
embassy from above, Judea would have been the very spot. 
We should have pointed to the Levant, and said, here is 
the moral centre of the world. If a missionary from heaven 
is to be sent, let him be stationed hero. 

It is astonishing how much of the interesting history of 
the human race has had for its scene the shores of the Med- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 169 

iterranean. Egypt is there. There is Greece. Xerxes, 
Darius, Solomon, Csesar, 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 Eome and 
Carthage sustained their deadly struggles upon its waters ; 
and, until the discovery of the passage round the Cape of 
Good Hope, the commerce of the world passed through the 
ports of the Mediterranean. If we go back to ancient 
ages, we find the Phenician sailors — the first who ventured 
upon the unstable element — slowly and fearfully steering 
their little barks along the shores of this sea ; and if we 
come down to modern times, we see the ships of every 
nation proudly ploughing its waves, or riding at anchor in 
its harbors. There is not a region upon the face of the 
earth so associated with the recollection of all that is inter- 
esting in the history of our race, as the shores of the Medi- 
terranean sea ; nor a place more likely to be chosen by the 
Creator as the spot where he would establish his commu- 
nication with men, than the land of Judea. 

The ti7}ie selected is as worthy of notice as the place ; I 
mean now, the time of the advent of the Messiah. 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 E-oman power obtained universal 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 favorable to 
1he announcement and rapid spread of a message from 
heaven, provided that the message itself should come prop- 
erly authenticated. The message did come, and it was 
properly authenticated ; and the peculiar suitableness of the 
time and place selected was seen ui the very rapid spread 
of the gospel over almost half the globe. 



170 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

There is another topic of internal evidence of the truth 
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 character, but wos^ decided and efficient in his govern- 
ment. In both, we find him providing most fully for the 
happiness of his creatures ; but in both we see him frown- 
ing upon sin with an awful severity of judgment. This is 
a fundamental point, and it ought to be fully understood. 
Let us look then at God as he reveals himself in his provi- 
dence, comparing these views of him with those which the 
Bible presents. 

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 
planned it, that he takes in with delight the sounds which 
float 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 different but delightful 
emotions has the Creator provided I 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, an almost 
overwhelming tide of delight. God smiles upon him in the 
aspect of tha 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 171 

that every motion is delight, and every pulsation 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 see him again. 
How changed will be the scene I To see him, you must 
follow me to the hospital-room of an almshouse ; for he 
has given himself up to vice, and endured suffering as a 
vagabond 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 themselves and to him. 
He lies upon his bed of straw in uninterrupted agony — his 
bones are gnawed, and his flesh corroded by disease — every 
motion is torment, every pulsation is agony ; for the God 
who has so formed the human constitution, that in inno- 
cence, and in the health which generally 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 \dctim can conceive. I once saw in an 
almshouse, a sufferer whose picture has been in my imag- 
ination while I have been writing the above. I have used 
general terms in my description. I might have given a 
much more detailed and vivid picture of his condition, but 
it was too shocking, "Were my readers to see the scene, 
even through the medium of a description of ordinary clear- 
ness, 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 liim into that condition, and that God was holding 
him there, and probably would hold him in the same awful 
suffering while life should remain, I could not help saying 
to myself, " With what an efficient and decided moral Gov- 
ernor have we to do I" No man would have held this mis- 
erable being in his sufferings a moment : the superintendent 



172 ' THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

of the hospital would have released him instantly, it it had 
been in his power ; but God had the power, and he 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 ; but 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 that the Bible uses is the same : " God is a con- 
suming fire." Our feelings can no more contemplate with 
composure, as our hearts are now constituted, the judg- 
ments which the Bible denounces against the wicked in 
another world, than they can the agonies of delirium tre- 
mens, or the gnawings of the diseases with which God over- 
whelms the dissipated and the vile. In both cases there is 
a severity whose justice we must admit, but whose conse- 
quences we cannot calmly follow. If any one thinks that 
I describe the character of God in too dark and gloomy 
colors, I have only to say, that all nature and all revelation 
unite in painting God in the most dark and gloomy colors 
possible, as he exhibits himself towards those who persist 
in breaking his law. He is love to his friends, but he is a 
consuming fire to his foes ; and every 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 
nature 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 admi- 
rable work usually called Butler's Analogy, has explored 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 173 

this ground fully ; and I would recommend to all my read- 
ers Avho take an interest in this subject, to obtain and study 
that work. I say Uudij 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 incon- 
siderable degree mature, in order to be fully appreciated. 

I have endeavored, by thus mentioning several points in 
which evidence may be found in favor 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 fully. ^ Having accomplished, 
however, the purpose intended, I nov/ proceed to the third 
head I proposed. 

III. EXPERIMENTAL EVIDENCE. 

The experimental evidence of the truth of Christianity 
is its onoral power over the human heart. This is the most 
convincing of all. It is direct. There is no laborious ex- 
amination of witnesses to bring the truth to us — no groping 
in the dimness of ancient times, and strauiing the sight to 
ascertain the forms of objects and the characters of occur- 
rences there. All is before us. We can see distinctly, for 
the proof is near. We can examine it minutely and lei- 
surely, for it is constantly recurring. 

I have remarked, that I considered this species of evi- 
dence far more calculated to make a strong impression upon 
the mind than either of the two preceding heads I have de- 
scribed, 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 

* I would recommend to those of my readers who are interested 
in this part of my subject, the examination of the following works. 
Chalmer's Evidences of Christianity, Paley's do., Alexander's do., 
Leslie's Short Method with Deists, Paley's Horse Paulinae, Butler's 
Analogy. 



174 THE lOUNQ CHRISTIAN. 

of evidence in regard to events tiiat occurred then. But I 
have often heard it remarked, by men amply qualified to 
investigate such subjects, that the power of the Bible, as 
they have often seen it exerted, in elevating to virtue and to 
happiness some miserable victim of vice and crime, has made 
a far stronger impression upon them^, in favor of its divine 
origin, than any examination of the labored 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 
busmess, 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 broken 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 government of 
Great Britain sends a sliip to China to obtam a supply of the 
remedy. The time usually required for the voyage passes, 
and a telegraph announces the arrival of the ship on her 
return. She sails up the Thames, comes to anchor, and soon 
the remedy for which they have all waited so anxiously is in 
full circulation about the city. Now, what will interest the 
people of London most in such a case ? Will it be an ex- 
amination of the officers of that ship, in order to satisfy them- 
selves 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 healthy to be attacked, while 
they examine the proof that this ship has actually been to 
China, and that her supercargo was really faithful in obtain- 
ing the identical article for which he was sent ? No ; all 
such inquiries, if they Avere made at all, would be left to the 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANll if. 175 

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 notwithstanding any scepticism or opposition 
of a few who might be interested in sustaining some other 
mode of treatment, the imported remedy, iffou7id successful 
iqmn trial, would soon be in universal use among the sick 
all over the city. 

JSTow, shall a man who is still under the power and do 
minion of sin, with this great remedy — which has saved, 
and is contmually 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 a7id 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 supposed above, I have spoken of 
the scepticism or opposition of those who might be interested 
in some other mode of treatment. Suppose one of these 
men, interested in the contmuance of the disease, and inhu- 
man enough to desire on this account to perpetuate the mis- 
ery of his fellows, should come mto some wretched tenement 
in a crowded part of the city, and should find there one or 
two inmates under 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 administer it, her 
hand is arrested by the visitor, who says 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 



17G THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

have yet no evidence to the contrary. Yon have not ex- 
amined her papers, you have seen no official dociiments, 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 impos- 
ture 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 witness- 
es ; 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 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 
wish to be saved from sin should say the same. You suffer 
now under this disease, and you must suffer more hereafter, 
and nothing but Chiistmnity 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 go with him into any examination of docu- 
ments 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 the 
gospel of Christ has power to rescue from sin, and that it 
exhibits 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 poiver of Christianity?" I thought first of the 
elevated rank in knowledge, in civilization, to Avhich all 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 177 

Christian nations had attained, and concluded to show, if I 
could, that the passions and sins of men always, when left 
to themselves, loaded communities with a burden which kept 
the mind from expanding, and the arts of life from flourish- 
ing, and bound down the whole in barbarism, or in subjec- 
tion 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 pro- 
vided them freely expand. Religion has taken off the press- 
ure 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 I It is 
a contradiction in terms. 

But I thought that such general views and statements 
were not calculated to produce so distmct and clear an im- 
pression upon the mind, especially upon the young ; and 
then I thought that I might point my readers to particular 
cases which have occurred undoubtedly within the observa- 
tion 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 careless, selfish, un- 
governable young man made humble and faithful and docile, 
by the power of the gospel. Such cases are within the ob- 
servation of every one ; and if each one of my readers would 
look at some such case which has occurred within his own. 
immediate reach, and examine all its circumstances, he would 
find m it an overwhelming proof that the gospel is indeed a 
remedy for sin. 

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, 

8* 



178 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

in other respects, very common. They are both cases of 
convicts in a state-prison. I might perhaps have selected 
narrations far more interesting and striking, but I have cho- 
sen to present those which may be taken as a fair specimen 
of the ordinary effects of the Bible, under the divine blessmg, 
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. 

The 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 
remedy which cures it. The prisons of our country^may be 
considered as hospitals, moral hospitals, where those whose 
diseases have become so violent and malignant, tliat 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 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 medi- 
cine, 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 corrup- 
tion. Such have been a great many prisons, and those who 
entered them came out far worse than they went in. 

Some philanthropists formed, some years ago, the plan 
of visiting these prisons, and carrying the Bible there, be- 
lieving that its divine truths would 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. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 179 

I do not mean, that tliey have pretended to be reformed while 
in the prison, but that they have proved themselves reform- 
ed by their good conduct after having been restored to soci- 
ety, when the time of their imprisonment had expired. 

The account of the first case I shall mention was taken 
down from the individual's own hps. There is nothing ex- 
traordinary in it, except that he was a very bad 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 con- 
fessions of his vices and crimes, which could not be properly 
introduced into this book. 

THE FIRST CONVICT'S STOE,Y. 

" When I had been in prison about eighteen months, 1 
began to thhik of my past ways, and to see that I had sinned 
against God — to think about dying, and where I should go 
when I should die and appear before God. When I first 
came here, I did not think any thing about dying ; I had no 
just idea of the holy Scriptures, and did not know any 
thmg of the Lord. Once I went off from 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 wouldn't be steady more than a 
few months before I went off again. My father told me I was 
fitting myself for the 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 a prison. I often used to think of my broth- 
er after I came into the prison. A great many nights I used 
to see a black cofiin placed before me, and hear a voice tell- 



180 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

ing me I must go soon and follow him. I not only tliouglit 
of these things, but all my wicked thoughts and all my 
actions were presented before me — what I had 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. 

" After I had thought about my wicked life, I felt that I 
had incurred the holy displeasure of the Lord, and deserved 
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 liad been. 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 gentleman who was visiting him 
asked him, 

" How does your heart appear to you now ?" 

" My heart appears at times set upon evil ; but 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- 
hven my feelings, and all my wicked thoughts go away ; 
my worldly thoughts will be drawn away, and my mind will 
be on heavenly things. I did not know what it meant when 
my heart used to burn within me, until I asked my teacher 
in Sabbath-school, if a man's heart would be warm when he 
had right feelings of heart." 

"Do you find temptation to sin now ?" asked the gentle- 
man. 

"Yes, sir." 

"What do you do?" 

" I trust in the Lord." 

"Do you yield to your evil passions and lusts now?" 



EVIDENCES OF CHUISTIANITY. 181. 

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

" Does it take away your 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." 

" Were you a drunken man ?" 

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

In the course of the conversation the convict said, 

" I want to ask if, after men have repented of their sins, 
there will ever be times when they will give up to their 
lusts?" 

" It is a very bad sign if they do," rephed the gentle- 
man. 

" Once, when I was greatly tempted, I wept before the 
Lord night after night, and there was a man appeared to me 
in the room, and said to me, ' Thy sins are pardoned ;' and 
since that I have 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 temptation, that I 
was fairly 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 conversation, 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 that 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 argu- 
ment, nothing particularly interesting. It is, howe7^er, a 



182 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

remarkably fair specimen of the ordinary operation of relig- 
ious truth, in convicting 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 narrative. 
The reason why I present two is, because no 07ie that I could 
obtain exhibits, so fully as I could wish, all the important 
points I wish to bring to view. 

THE SECOND CONVICT'S STORY. 

There lived m 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 endeavored 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 a man- 
ner that it never would have been renewed. 

The employer, however, understood his character, and, 
like all other bad men who endeavor to induce others to com- 
mit 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 quanti- 
ties 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 drank the rum, he went and lay down to 
sleep in the skirts of a wood, where they expected to commit 
the murder. In a little while another man, who had been 
employed to assist in this work, came and Avoke him upi and 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 183 

said to him, " If we mean to do any thing, we had better do 

it now." "VY accordingly rose, and they went together. 

When they came to their victim, "W shot at him, and 

then his accomphce took the gun and beat him over the head 
till he was dead. 

Two persons were hung for this crime, and W was 

sentenced to the state-prison for a long time. The man 

whom they had killed was a very bad man ; but as "VV 

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 could 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-7i. 

" That word is. In,'" the teacher would say to the pris- 
oner in his cell. "Can you see how many letters there are 
•in it?" 

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

" Yes," answers the teacher ; " the first letter is called 
i; the second, 7i. These letters are very common in the 
Bible, and in all reading ; see if you can find another n any- 
where 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 teacher would 
explain the difference, and call his attention more fully to 
the true form of the n. He would also explain the differ- 
ence between the capital and small i, and show his pupil 
that he must expect to find the small i, generally. He 
would then leave him, askuig him to find as many of chose 
letters as he could before the teacher should come asrain. 



184 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

The next lesson would be the next word, the ; and thus the 
pupil would go on slowly, spelling liis way, until he had 
learned to read for himself. 

The attempt to learn to read was proposed to W , 

and he commenced it ; and although considerably advanced 
in life, he made no little progress in his work. He was 
soon 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 conversmg 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 ?" 

"Yery 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 
forgiven. I was sitting doMai one day at my M^ork 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 Avas 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, 
lor he put me in the way to obtain the salvation of my soul ; 
he made me promise him faithfully that I would go to God, 
and try to find mercy ; and yet, master, I had doubt in my 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 185 

heart — my sins were so heavy — whether I should be forgiv- 
en. The chaplain soon left me, and I went into my cell and 
poured out my heart 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; and, as God would have it, he 
turned to the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah. It said, 'Every 
one that thirsteth, 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 for- 
sake 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 agamst onan. 

"The Sunday following, just after I had carried my din- 
ner into my cell, I put my dinner down, and went to prayer. 
I rose, and just as I rose from my prayer the chaplain v/as 
at the door. * We are all guilty creatures,' he said to rae. 



186 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

* and we camiot be saved unless God, /or 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 righteousness 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 God. When the chaplain left me I went to prayer 
again. I could eat nothing that day. I did not eat a 
mouthful. 

" I recollected at that time that a minister had told me, 
whenever I had a chapter read, to have the fifty-first Psalm. 
I could not see any body to get to read it, and how to find it 
I did not know ; and the Sunday following, before the keeper 
unlocked the door, I rose up and went to prayer, and I 
prayed, ' 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, Lord, to show 
me that chapter, that I may read it with understanding.' I 
rose from prayer, and went to my Bible and took it up. I 
began at 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 fifty -first Psalm. I could read a little, 
and I begun to spell H-a-v-e m-e-r-c-y, etc. ; I looked 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 ; 
God, according unto 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 187 

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 heav 
ier and heavier. 

"All that I had ever done came plam and open in my 
sight, and I was led to see that I must perish ; there was nc 
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 himself 
describes it, one day, when he was praying m his cell, his 
burden of guilt was removed. He felt that he might hope 
for pardon through Jesus Christ. The relief which this 
leeling brought over his mind seems to have been almost 
indescribable. 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. \Y 

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 thmg goes agreeable. I find 1 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 do 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." 

I\ow 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 common, that where a prison is regulated in such 



188 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

a manner that the prisoners are not exposed to evil influence 
from each other, and the Bible has the opportmiity to try its 
power, the whole aspect of the prison is changed. After I 
had wa-itten the above, I was conversing upon the subject of 
this chapter with a gentleman much interested in the im- 
provement 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. Sabbath morning," said 
he, " and visit the Sabbath-school formed there, you w^ill 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 main land. 
The prison is situated in Charlestown, on a point of land 
near the Charles river. The yard extends to the water's 
edge, to afibrd facilities for lading and unlading the boats 
which transport stone — hammering stone for building being 
the principal business at which the convicts are employed. 

When we reached the outer gate of the prison-yard we 
pushed it open, and on closing itself after we entered, it 
struck a bell, which gave notice to the keeper of the inner 
gate that some one was coming. 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 large 
central edifice, occupied by the family of the warden and by 
some of the keepers, and two extensive wings. In these 
wings the prisoners w^ere formerly confined, n 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 inva- 
riably grew worse instead of better under it. A young man, 
perhaps just beginning a career of vice, or overcome/or the 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 189 

first time by some strong temptation, was placed during the 
lono^ hours of the nif?ht in one of these crowded rooms. Of 
course he grew worse by such an exposure. Those who had 
grovvii. old m sin mstructed him in all their wicked arts. He 
became familiarized to infamy ; and even while under sen- 
tence for one crime, often formed plans for others, to be 
executed as soon as he should escape 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 
decided measures if the prisoners should make any attempt 
to escape. We passed through tliis room, and one or two 
others, every narrow passage being guarded by a formidable 
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 granite, the fruits of the prisoners' industry. 

We walked across the yard and came to a long stone 
building 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 
readers a very accurate idea of the arrangement and of the 
interior of these buildings, but I am very desirous of doing 
60, as it will give them clearer ideas of what I intend to 
present, in regard <o the moral aspects of sucli an institu- 



190 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

tion as this. Will you not then make an efibrt 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 for admission. They were waiting until the 
prisoners themselves should have passed into the chapel ; 
for when we arrived, they Avere coming in a long proces- 
sion, from their cells in the rear, into this building, each 
one bringing the tin vessel from which he had eaten his 
breakfast, and laying 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 
secured. We turned from the entry into that end of the 
building which was used as a chapel. There was an aisle 
passing 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 teach- 
ers, gentlemen from Boston, who had come to assist these 
unhappy men to read and to understand the word of God. 

It was a most dehghtful May morning, and the whole 
aspect 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 purest white, the neat benches, 
and the nicely sanded floor, gave a most pleasant aspect to 
the Avlicle. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 191 

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 colors, one side of the body being 
red, and the other of some different hue. This is the uni- 
form of crime. The object of it is, I suppose, not to mor- 
tify them with a perpetual badge of disgrace, but to expo&.» 
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 
interesting assembly, " that all these men have come volun 
tarily this morning to read and study the word of God*^ 
Yes, that was the fact. This exercise was entirely volun- 
tary ; and out of two or three hundred who had been con- 
demned for crime, about one half were accustomed to come 
voluntarily on Sabbath 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 
questions 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 the New Testament, and let them read in rota- 
tion ; and more apparently humble and docile students of 
the Bible I never saw. They read slowly and with hesita- 
tion, and I thought at first, with a little embarrassment ; 
this however soon passed away, and it was most interesting 
to Avatch 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 para- 
bles of the one sheep and the one piece of money which 



192 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

was lost, Luke 15, and it seemed as if the whole chapter 
was written expresslj'' 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 you?" asked I. 

" Oh, I used to despise it. I used to wonder why so much 
was made of the Bible. It seemed to me that I could write 
as good a book myself" 

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

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

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

*' Why, sir, to be frank, 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 lived with, seemed to enjoy 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 preach- 
ed 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. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 193 

"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 ha,ve really been 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 
thne for the services to be closed, and I could not converse 
Avith my other scholars much. 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, how- 
ever," said he, "only to please my parents. I gave no 
heed to it. I have found it, since I came to this institu- 
tion, a very different book." 

I afterwards learned that there was as much reason as, 
under the circumstances, there could be, to hope that all 
three of these criminals had really repented of sin and ob- 
tained peace with God, and that they would return to society 
to be useful and happy while they live, and be admitted to 
heaven when they die. 

Such cases as these too are becommg very numerous in 
prisons where the convicts are separated from each other, 
and brought under 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 
especially of recommitments, is very much reduced. The 
whole number of convicts, which was formerly 375, has 
been reduced under the operation of this system to 225; and 
is now constantly decreasing. 

But I must proceed with the description of my visit. 
At the close of the Sabbath-school, the convicts who had 
attended it marched out, and presently returned with all the 
other prisoners in a long procession, to attend public wor- 
ship ; they filled the chapel. The preacher addressed them 
on the subject of temperance ; and as he explained to them 

Y. Christian. 9 



194 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

tlie nature of ardent spirit, and the consequences of its use, 
they listened with tiie most eager and uninterrupted atten- 
tion. Each had his Bible under his arm — his only com- 
panion in his solitary qcU — 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 exclusively 
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 from God. 

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 he had left it, the tin vessel 
now containing his evening meal, and they marched in 
long procession to their silent and solitary lodgings. "We 
followed them into the building. Its construction is pecu- 
liar ; and as it is similar to those now almost universally 
"built for prisoners, I shall describe it. 

It contains a building within a building — the outer one 
being a mere shell, consisting of walls and a roof, with rows 
of na-rrow, grated windows in the 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 five stories high, 
arranged back to back, so that the doors open on each side into 
the passage-way I have already described. The doors, how- 
ever, 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 
each story. A staircase at one end leads to these. 

There were no windows to the cells, except a grated 



EVlL)jiJ^CES OF CHRISTIANITY. 195 

opening in the narrow but heavy iron door ; and this, 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 win- 
dows, 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 pecu- 
liarly solemn and impressive in the heavy sound, produced 
in regular succession, as door after door closed upon the un- 
fortunate inmates. Each keeper passed along after the pris- 
oners of his division had entered their cells, and locked them 
in ; and after the last party-colored dress had disappeared, and 
the last bolt sounded to its place, the keepers one after an- 
other returned, and all was silence and apparent solitude. 

Though it was now the middle of a bright May after- 
noon, it was but twilight within these walls — the twilight of a 
prison — and so still, that one could hardly realize that within 
the sound of his voice more than two hundred criminals were 
confined. And yet, they were within the sound of one voice ; 
for the construction of these buildings 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, repulsive aspect of the granite walls and floor and pil- 
lars, doors and locks of iron — and reads the chapter, and 
ofiers the evening prayer in the hearing of hundreds ; and 
each prisoner, alone in his cell, seated upon his little bench, 
hears through the grated window the voice of one unseen, 
explaining to him the word of God, or guiding him in his 
supplications for the forgiveness of his sins, and preparation 
for heaven. 



196 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

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

"HoAv different this is from Avhat we used to see and 
hear in the old prison." 

"Has there been," asked I, "a very decided change 
in the aspect of the prisoners since their removal to this 
building?" 

" yes," said he, " every thing is changed. Why, when 
they occupied the old building, and were locked up several 
together in a room, there was nothing but cursing and swear- 
ing, and riot, and quarrelling, and blasphemy, to be heai'd all 
night. How they would rave against religion and the Bible 
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 pistol at his belt, closed and locked the door after 
us, and we passed through the yard, and through the great 
edifice which I first described, out beyond the prison walls, 
and returned to our homes. 

Now, if there was any one thing which stood forth to 
view in all this scene more distinctly and vividly than all 
the rest, it was, that these effects were the work of the Bible. 
The very essence of the whole system is simply to cut ofi 
the bad influences which would otherwise gain access to the 
prisoner, and lay hefwe him the Bible. This was done with 
kindness and sympathy indeed, but still the word of God 
was most evidently the remedy which was applied. The 
prisoners 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 soli- 
tary 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 bv a 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITy. 197 

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

Those little cells, so small that the narrow bed, when 
let down at night, leaves the prisoner scarcely room to 
stand — destitute •of almost every comfort, and showing, by 
their whole aspect, that their design is to connect tjie most 
gloomy associations possible with the idea of crime — every 
one of those narrow and naked cells must 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 
speculation deny its authority and question its influence iiv 
practice, when they wish to awaken conscience in the aban- 
doned, and to recall them so far at least to duty that society 
m.ay be safe from their crimes, they are unanimous in invok- 
ing 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 analyze them a little, that I may present more distinctly 
the nature of the process by which convalescence and ulti- 
mate 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 Christian lands. 

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

1 . The Bible icas the oneans 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 Charles- 
town, the Avhole plan of moral influence consisted in bring- 
ing, in a kind and sympathizing manner, the truths of the 



198 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

word of God to those minds. I was told by one of the teach- 
ers who was present at the time of my visit, that he had in. 
his class a convict who had been repeatedly imprisoned, hav- 
ino- been confined once or twice in the old buildino-. " 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 that class said, that he gave 
every evidence which could be given in so short a time, of 
being a humbled, renewed man. 

2. The Bible leach men to see that their sins are 
against God. This you will perceive to be 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 
neglected or forgotten till the Bible brings it to view. 

But what is the meaning of our sins being against God ? 
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 burn 
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 prob- 
ably supposed this offence was against his mother alone. 
He knew he was responsible 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 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." 



EVIDENCES OF CHUISTIANIT Y. 199 

" 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 ex- 
pect eA'^ery hour that the officers will be after you to tako 
you up." 

" The officers I" 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 the state- 
prison for it." 

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

" 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 m fact the whole village. As 
to your not knowing that it was against the law, that makes 
no difference ; you k?ieiv tJiat it tvas tvrong." 

I do not knoAV whether this boy learned that he had 
broken 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. 
distant city, but the officers found him there ; and I saw 
him afterwards confined in his cell. 

Now, when men sm ui this world, they almost always 
foro-et the very important circumstance, that theTj are sin- 
ning against God. They look upon their ofiences as com- 
mitted solely against their fellow-men ; they feel sometimes 
a little compunction in regard to those few cases where their 
conduct has injured their fellows ; they never consider these 



200 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

as offences against a far 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 a conversation much like 
that which I have described between the boy and his friend. 

"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 endeavored to make up for lost time by sub- 
sequent industry, and I have always repaired all the injuries 
of every kind that I have done to others. On the whole, I 
have been a good neighbor and an honest man ; I have been 
kmd in my family, and upright as a citizen." 

" Ah," says the Bible, " do you not know that there is a 
God, and that by utterly neglecting him, you have been all 
the time unceasingly breaking Jiis law 1 You have been 
living for yourself, detached and separate from all around 
you, except so far as your interests or instinctive feelings have 
formed a frail tie. What a divided and miserable commu- 
nity would be the result, if all God's creatures were to act 
upon the same principle I" 

" Besides," continues the word of God, " the sins which 
you acknowledge you have committed, and which you seem 
to consider as chiefly against men, are in a far higher sense 
against God. They are violations of his law, and he has 
annexed a most awful penalty to such transgressions. In 
fact, it is possible that some of his officers are noAv sent to 
summon you to trial and condemnation 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 
convict whose conversation I have above given, saw, as he 
expresses it, that all his sins had been ''against God'" 

3. The Bible makes men feel tlieir guilt. Undoubt- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 201 

edly many of my readers will go over the explanation I have 
just given of our connection with God, and of the fact that 
all our sins arc against him, 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 been presenting, with- 
out feeling any compunction 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 
of 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 suflering ; 
and yet, after the lapse of years, it will burst forth with 
most terrific power, and drive the victim of it to actual de- 
spair. This has often been the case. A man who has com- 
mitted sin, is like one bitten by a mad dog. The momentary 
pain is slight — the wound soon heals ; it may keep up from 
time to time a slight irritation, just enough to remind hina 
occasionally of the occurrence ; but ordinarily it is forgotten, 
and he goes on with his daily amusements and pleasures, 
entirely unconscious of danger. 

But though the wound is healed, the dreadful infection 
which it has admitted to his system is circulating msidiously 
there. The poison ghdes imperceptibly along his veins and 
arteries for weeks, months, years. It does not mar his en- 
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 furi • 
ous paroxysms of madness and despair to mevitable death. 

And it is just so with sin. A murderer, for example, 

win often slumber ten, twenty, or tliirty years over his 

9=^ 



202 THE YOUN& CHUISTIAN. 

crime. The knowledge of it will be 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 circum- 
stance, 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 remorse 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 tres- 
passes and sins ; but now, you will find it far more difficult 
to allay or to mitigate the storm which has, perhaps spon- 
taneously, arisen. 

Every person, therefore, who commits sin, takes a viper 
into his bosom — a viper which may delay stinging him for 
many years, but it will sting him at last, unless it is re- 
moved ; he is unaware of the misery which awaits him, but 
it must come notwithstanding : and the wonder is, that the 
sense of guilt will remain so entirely dormant as it often does, 
so that no warning, 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 suffering. 

Now we certainly should not wish that this suffering 
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 fre- 
quently leads to it. The truths of the Bible are not de- 
signed to produce a sorrow that worketh death, but, by the 
power of the Holy Spirit, to awaken such a sense of guilt as 
shall lead to unfeigned repentance and eternal hfe. 

4. The Bible leads men to a Saviour. Men everywhere 
have the impression that penitence cannot remove and expi- 
ate guilt. Whenever we do wrong, there is implanted, as it 
were in the very soul, a fearful looking forward to punish- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 203 

meiit to come in consequence of it. We know that no gov- 
ernment can be efficiently maintained where its settled, reg- 
ular plan is to forgive always upon confession. Now it is 
found by universal experience, and the cases I have narrated 
happily illustrate this, that w4ien men are really brought to 
feel their sins against God, they cannot be quieted by any 
general assurances that God 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 disobedi- 
ence — in the hope that his penitence alone will secure his 
pardon. Hence, in many countries they have various ways 
of doing penance, that is, inflicting severe volui:fetary suffer- 
ing upon themselves by way of retribution for their sins. 
Now when men, under such circumstances, hear that a 
Saviour has died for simiers, it brings relief. It is very often 
the case that there is not a very clear idea of the way ui 
which his sufferings are of avail in dpenmg the way for par- 
don ; 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 suffer- 
ings may in some w^ay stop the evil consequences of its sins, 
and open the w^ay for pardon, and yet not fully understand 
in all their detail the various moral influences which the 
crucifixion of the Son of God is calculated to produce. 

My reader, do you feel a secret, but continual burden 
from a sense of your sins ? Make a full trial of the experi- 
ment of coming and asking forgiveness in the Saviour's name, 
and see if it does not bring rehef 

I suppose that most of my readers remember the story of 
Regulus. The ancient cities of Home and Carthage stood 
opposite to each other, across the Mediterranean sea. As 
these two cities grew up to power and distinction nearly 



204 THE YOUNG CHEISTIAN. 

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 took 
many prisoners and sent them to Rome. At length, how- 
ever, the scale was turned, the Roman army was conquered, 
and Regulus himself was captured and thrown into a Car- 
thaginian prison. 

After some time, however, had elapsed, the Carthagini- 
ans, foreseemg that the Roman power would in the end 
overwhelm their own, concluded to send an embassy to Rome 
to offer peace. They proposed to Regulus to go on this 
embassy. 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 endeavor 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 oft' to Rome, prom- 
ising 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 liis 
country to make one. He understood, therefore, that he 
was going to his native city only to communicate 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 
his return. He received her dejected, silent, and sad. " I 
am a Carthaginian prisoner still," said he, " and must soon 
return to my chains." 

He refused to enter the city. He had indeed a message 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 205 

for the senate, but the Roman senate was not accustomed to 
admit foreigners to their sessions within the city. He sent 
them word, therefore, that E.egulus, no longer a Roman gen- 
eral, but a Carthaginian prisoner, was the bearer of a mes- 
sage 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 I" said his friends and the senators and all the 
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 
exasperated Carthaginians will inflict upon me cruel tor- 
tures, 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 
binding, and that he could be under no obligations to return. 
But all was vain. He bade the senate and his countrymen 
and his Avife 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 



206 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

death by the same sufferings which her lamented husband 
had endured. 

My story, thus far, 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 cor- 
rectly stated. The whole occurrence 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 no good, either 
to Regains 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 thing is due from the 
commonwealth to the memory of Regulus or to his sur- 
viving friends, let it be paid in happiness, not in suffering. 
There are in the public prisons many miserable convicts 
condemned for their crimes ; let them be forgiven for Reg- 
ulus' 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 under 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 
intending 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 fully 
illustrate the way in which the Lamb of God takes away 
the sins of the world. My object is to illustrate the spirit 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 207 

tcith ivliich the offer of mercy through him is to he received, 
and I have made this supposition for the purpose of placing 
these prisoners in a situation somewhat like that of con- 
demned 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 E,oman 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 for- 
giveness 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 as 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, unquestionably, if there were any among these 
prisoners who were really penitent for sin and willing to 
return to duty, their abhorrence of their crimes would be 
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 Avho Avere 
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, 



208 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

by his labors and suflerings, has been unceasingly endeavor- 
ing 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 efibrt to promote 
the happiness of others, or to diminish their sufferings ; 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 
produces very similar effects in the world to those I have 
here imagined in the prison. When men are told in general 
terms, that God is merciful and will forgive their sins, it 
does not in ordinary cases really relieve them. Though per- 
haps they do not say it distinctly, yet X\\ey feel that God's 
government, to be efficient, must have strict laws, and pen- 
alties 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 vv^hen men are told by the word of God, that Jesus 
Christ died for them — the just for the unjust — 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 unexpected quarter darts in. 
Though they may not know fully in ivhat ivay the suffer- 
ings of Christ may be the means of opening the way for 
their forgiveness, they still can see that it is very possible 
it may in some way do this. It is not necessary that we 
should understand fully the way. The convicts might be 
released without knowing all about the story of Regulus, or 
comprehending exactly how such a transaction as their 
release on his account would affect the public mind in Rome, 
so as to obviate the evil effects of laxity in the administra- 
tion of public justice. There might be many a poor igno- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 209 

rant convict who could not comprehend such subjects at all, 
and who yet might 2^ossess the spirit of mind which should 
bring him most fully within the conditions of release. Such 
an one might come to the officer appointed for the purpose, 
and say, 

" I am very grateful to the Roman senate for ofiering to 
pardon me for the sake of Regulus. 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 E.egulus 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 woi fully compreJiencl the nature of that 
great transaction of which Gethsemane and Calvary were 
the scene. It cannot be fully understood here. From the 
windows of our prison-house in this world, we can see but a 
small part of the great city of God. We cannot therefore 
appreciate fully any of the plans of his government ; we can, 
however, feel 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 for us, 
that we might be saved through faith in his blood — that is, 
by our trustmg in his sufferings — that God might be just, and 
yet save those who trust in the Saviour. See Rom. 3 : 23-26. 

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 



210 THE YOUNa CHUISTIAN. 

prisoners, and to receive their replies, should meet in one of 
the rooms a very difierent reception. He passes, we will 
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 
corner sit some with wild and haggard looks, relating to 
each other, with noisy but unnatural mirth, the profane jest 
or immoral story. In the middle of the room, J;wo are 
quarrelling for a morsel of food which each claims, filling 
the air with their dreadful oaths and imprecations. Near 
the door lies a miserable object liplf covered in his tattered 
garment, and endeavoring 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 
this scene of vice and miser}^ 

The quarrellers and the rioters pause a moment, each 
retaining his attitude, and listen while the messenger from 
the senate lays before them the offer 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 combatants recommence their war — the story- 
teller in the corner goes on with his narrative — the sleeper 
composes himself again to rest — and perhaps some fierce 
and angry-looking criminal comes up to the messenger and 
says, in a stern voice, "Away, you have no business here." 

Do you thmk 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 211 

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 I" says he, with 
a tone of scorn ; "I want no forgiveness on account of 
another ; 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 
acknowledgment of my dependence for it upon the merits 
of another." 

Now if the messenger should meet with the exhibition 
of such a spirit as this, he would turn away and close the 
bolts and bars of the prison again upon such a convict, and 
seek subjects of mercy elsewhere. God too requires of us 
all a humble and subdued spirit, and willingness to accept 
of pardon in the name of Jesus Christ, tvho 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 Ptoman senate for offering 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 and happiness now. I shall 
always be grateful to the senate, and shall cherish the 
memory of Regulus as long as I live." 

Before dismissing this illustration, I wish to remind my 
readers again, that I have been endeavoring to exhibit by 
it the spirit of mind with wliich we ought to receive the 
offer of mercy through Jesus Christ, not the nature of the 
atonement which he has made for sin. The case I have 
.magined 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 



212 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

"unavoidable in every human empire. The spirit of mind 
with which the offer of free forgiveness in Jesus' name is 
welcomed or refused, is all which I design by this illustra- 
tion to explain. 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 the wounded spirit. 
And nothing but the Bible can make such an offer. Thus 
one of the most powerful means by which it changes char- 
acter, is awakening the sensibilities of the heart through 
the exhibition 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. lli.ese chcmges of character are real and ioer'}iia- 
nent, tliough often attended with •stro7ig excitement, and 
sometimes loith mental delusion. My readers recollect that 
the first convict saw at one time a 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 par- 
doned. These two circumstances were what chiefly induced 
me to insert that narrative, that I might bring up distinctly 
this point, namely, that the changes of character produced 
by the Bible are sometimes attended with 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 some- 
times 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 213 

is to become entliusiastic in it. And this enthusiasm the 
public usually consider as proving, not 'disproving, his sin- 
cerity. 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 favorite 
plans, and Avill consider them as pleasant indications of the 
strength of the interest which is felt. Brinley, a famous 
canal engineer, was so much interested in his favorite mode 
of transportation, that he used to express the opinion that 
a canal was far more valuable to a country than a naviga- 
ble 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 Brinley ; it has been told again and 
again, in lectures and conversations and debates, as a pleas- 
ant instance of extravagance in a man devoted to a favorite 
pursuit, which proves nothing but the greatness of the 
interest he feels in it. Nobody ever thought the worse of 
Brinley for it, or distrusted his judgment on any point in 
the science of engineering. Millions were risked on his 
opinion while he was living, and his name is remembered 
wdth the highest respect. So Christians of uncultivated 
minds will be sometimes extravagant 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 machine, will become so 
excited that he cannot sleep. He will perhaps, in his efforts 
to obtain repose, fall into an uncertain state between sleep- 
ing 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 assured 
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 gener- 
ally a man of intelligence, he can analyze the operations of 



214 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

his mind, and separate the false from the true. If he was 
an unenhghtened man, however, and should in the morning' 
tell his story, how narrow would he 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 he a great deal 
more wise to neglect altogether the story of supernatural 
voices and appearances which he might tell, and judge of 
the value of his proposed invention by examining impar- 
tially 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, while contemplating God's holy truth, his eyes are 
opened — he sees his guilt, and his imminent danger of ruin. 
He is, and he must be, strongly excited. If he feels in any 
just degree his condition, he cannot sleep. Can an arrested 
malefactor sleep quietly the first night in his cell? He 
must be strongly excited, and this excitement raiust, in 
many cases, bring something like temporary mental delu- 
sion. He may do and say many things in which calm spec- 
tators cannot sympathize. But it is most certainly verj 
unphilosophical to fasten upon these, and say it is all delu- 
sion and wildness. The real question to be considered is 
this : Is a bad character really changed for a good one? If 
so, it is a great moral change, invaluable in its nature and 
results, productive of inconceivable good to the individual 
himself, and to all connected with him. The excess of feel- 
ing is momentary and harmless. In regard to the perma- 
nency of the change in the case of those convicts, there is 
one whose subsequent character I have no means of know- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 215 

ing. The other, however, when he was hberated, became 
a useful and respectable citizen ; and after sustaining unin- 
jured for two or three years the temptations of the world, 
he was admitted to a Christian church ; and up to the latest 
accounts which I have been able to obtain, he was a most 
trustworthy man and an exemplary Christian. An aban- 
doned profligate, imprisoned for his crimes, becomes a useful 
and a virtuous man. Can you expect such a change with- 
out excitement ? How unphilosophical then is it to fasten 
upon the slight and momentary hidications of excitement 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 oiice 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 coffin. 
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 
presented, so as to form an independent and unbiassed opin- 
ion. The man fastens upon one little blemish wliich hap- 
pens to be turned towards him, and seemg no farther, he 
condemns the whole. Like the mexperienced mariner, who 
tliinks 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 
operate hi 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 crimmal has cer- 
tamly become a Christian, just because he talks like one. 
AYhereas it is very possible that he is only repeating lan- 
ofuasfe which he has heard others use, for the sake of excit- 



216 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

ing 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 knowledge of facts in 
one way as in another. An experienced Christian can 
indeed often form a tolerably safe opinion of the reality or 
fictitiousness of a pretended change by conversation ; but 
the great decisive evidence after all, is perseverance in a 
holy life. 

If 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 bear with a 
little excitement, and even enthusiasm, at the time of the 
change. For it is, after all, of comparatively little conse- 
quence whether 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 camp-meeting; or 
whether it is subdued and restrained, as in the still solem- 
nity of an mquiry-meeting on the evening of the Sabbath, or 
m the solitary 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 would be 
better if men would follow Jesus as readily and as easily as 
Matthew did. Jesus said unto him, "Arise, and follow me ; 
and he arose and followed him." Immediate submission, 
with cordial confidence in the Saviour, will at once remove 
all mental sufiering and all cause for it. But if m.en 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 the 
human character considered in detail. I have thought it 
best, in order to show the moral power of this book as dis- 
tinctly as possible, to analyze thus minutely the operation of 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 217 

it in some particular cases. But the argument would be 
very deficient if I should leave it here ; for if these cases 
were uncommon, they would prove but little. But they are 
not uncommon. Even in prisons, a very large number of 
such cases have, as I have already stated, occurred; and the 
subjects of such changes have gone, when they have been 
liberated, in peace and happiness to their homes. There are 
now scattered over our land vast 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 
is so 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. If 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 pro- 
tection. 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 aU to the commands and instructions of 
the word of God. The numbers ar.e however rapidly increas- 
ing. The cause of God is advancing with great rapidity ; 
and as a military despotism or a Christian republic must be 
the ultimate destiny of the nation, we can look only to the 
spread of the influence of the Bible to save our countiy from 
ruin. 

I will close tliis chapter by mentioning one more evi- 
dence of the moral power of the Bible — it is its effect in 
destroying the fear of death. The fear of death is in part 

y. Christian. 1 



21S THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

instinctive, not founded on reasoning. . It is reasonable for 
us to fear some things connected with death, and a sense of 
unpardoned sin will make death terrible indeed ; but no 
small part of the apprehension which every man feels in 
looking forward to that hour, is the result of an instinctive 
])rinciple which Providence has implanted in the human 
mind ; and the only way by which it can be counteracted 
without the Bible, is by banishing the subject from the 
thoughts. That is the way that soldiers acquire courage in 
battle — by accustoming themselves not to think of death at 
all. It is not in human nature 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- 
pared to die, and the knowledge of the approach of the dread 
hour they think will distress him. But the sad secret they 
cannot conceal ; he reads his sentence in their anxious looks 
and agitated words — his pale cheek turns paler with fear, 
and to the natural restlessness of disease, there is added the 
overwhelming agitation 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 be gone, or the soul may sink into stupor. But 
when death is really foreseen and known to be near, while 
the faculties retain their power, the expectation of it weighs 
doAvn the human spirit with overwhelming fears. 

But the Bible 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 



EVIDENCES OF CHUISTIANITY. 219 

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 bedside, but she is calm. 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 for- 
ward to it wdthout fear. It is because the Spirit of God has 
applied the truths of the Bible to her heart, and by their 
instrumentality 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 with it close the 
short and simple view I have been endeavoring to give of 
the evidences of Christianity. I caniiot 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, 
before 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, with your present 
attainments in Christian knowledge, perhaps caimot answer. 
But they do not touch or affect the great arguments by 
which the authority of the Bible is sustained. They are all 
small, detached difficulties. Then let your mind rest, calmly 
and with confidence, upon the great but simple arguments 
on which the strong foundations of your belief stand. 

2. Never dispute upon the evidences of the Christian 
veligion. The difficulty with unbelievers is one of the Jieart^ 



220 THE YOUNQ CHRISTIAN. 

not of the intellect, and you cannot alter the heart by diS' 
pnting. When they present you with arguments against 
Christianity, reply in substance, "What you say does not 
reach the broad and deep foundations upon which, in my 
view, Christianity rests ; and consequently, notwithstanding 
what you say, I still place confidence in the word of God." 

3. IsTotice this, which, if you will 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 serve 
Christ. When you lose your interest in your progress in 
piety, neglect prayer, and wander into sin, then you will 
begin to be in darkness and doubt. If you are so unhappy 
as to get into such a state, do not waste your time in trying 
to reaso7i Tjourself back to belief again. Return to duty. 
Come to God and confess your wanderings, seek forgiveness 
through Christ, and submit your heart to be inclined to him. 
If you do this, light for the intellect and peace for the heart 
will come back too:ether. 



STUDY OF TPIE BIBLE. 221 

CHAPTER YIII. 

STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 
" Able to make us wise unto salvation." 

It is not my iiiteiitioii 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 endeavor to establish its divine authority, 
or present the evidences or the nature of its inspiration. My 
object is to point out practical duty, and I shall confine my- 
self to a description of the best miethods of reading and study- 
ing 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 
ibr 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 endeavor to describe, than that my efforts will 
produce any good effect upon those who have gone beyond 
the meridian of life. If a man has passed the age of thirty 
without the Bible, it is to be feared that he will go on unaid- 
ed by its light through the remainder of his pilgrimage. It 
is different, however, with the young. You shruik 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 up to its guidance. 

The Bible should be studied. Every person^ old or 
young, ignorant or learned, should devote a portion of time 
every day, or, where this is impossible, at least every Sab- 
bath to the study of the Scriptures, in the more strict and 



222 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

proper sense of that term. But to show precisely what 1 
mean by this 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 religious 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 
didlionary. He should also have pen, ink, and paper ; and 
thus provided, he sits down early in the morning to his work. 
He raises a short but heartfelt 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, " "Who 
were 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 what condi- 
tion the city was in at the time this letter was written. He 
next inquires in regard 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 evidently important 
to a correct understanding of the letter, he examines the Acts 
of the Apostks — in which an account of St. Paul's labors is 
contained — to learn whether Paul went there, and if so, what 
happened while he was there. He finds that many inter- 
esting incidents occurred during Paul's visits, and his curi- 
osity is excited to know whether these things will be alluded 
to in the letter ; he also endeavors to ascertain where Paul 
was when he wrote the letter. After having thus ascer- 
tained every thing relating to the circumstances of the case 
as far as he is able, he is prepared to come to the epistle 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 223 

itself, and enter with spirit and interest into an examination 
of its contents. 

He first glances liis eye cursorily through the chapters 
of the book, 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. The time devoted to these preparatory inquiries is 
well employed ; 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 these 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 writ- 
ten, or to whom it was addressed. It would be preposterous. 
If I wished to excite your interest, I should describe partic- 
ularly 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 Ephe- 
sians was written before or after he went there, or where 
Titus was when Paul wrote to him, or for what special pur- 
pose he wrote. 

Take another case. The father and mother whom Prov- 
idence 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 choosa^*some subject 
for examination — real, thorough examination. Perhaps it 
is the rebuilding of Jerusalem after the captivity. The vari- 
ous 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 — an Expositor to 
the third — the Bible Dictionary to the fourth ; and then, 
when all are seated, and the divine blessing has been asked 
upon their labors, the father asks them all to turn to any , 



224 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

part of the Scriptures which gives information upon the sub- 
ject. 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 account of the 
first movements in Babylon of those who were desirous of 
return ; they examine the plans they formed ; compare one 
account with another ; every question which occurs is asked, 
and the information which it seeks for obtained. The two 
expeditions of Ezra and Nehemiah are examined — the object 
of each, and the connection between them. Under the con- 
trol of a j udicious parent, even secular history might be oc- 
casionally 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 evening 
of the Sabbath, if more convenient, 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 noted, that it may be presented at a convenient 
opportunity tg some other Christian student, to the super- 
intendent 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 v/ise ; not 
for the rich, nor for the poor ; but for all. The solitary 
widow, in her lonely cottage among the distant mountains. 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 225 

with nothing but her simple Bible in her hand, by the light 
of her evening fire, may pursue this course of comparing 
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 to 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 M^hich 
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 
speak of studyi7ig the Bible, in contradistinction from the 
mere cursory reading of it, which is so common among 
Christians. But I must illustrate in minute detail the vari- 
ous 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 objects. 
I shall therefore describe some of the means which can 
easily be adopted, and which will be very efficient for this 
purpose. 

1. Ficturing to the imaginatioyi 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 to the work. He opens 

perhaps to a passage in the gospels, and reads on verse after 

verse. The phraseology is all perfectly famihar. He has 

read the same passage a hundred times before, and the words 

fall upon his ear like a sound long familiar, producing no 

impression and awakening no idea. After gomg through a 
10# 



226 THE YOUNG CHEISTIAN. 

few verses, he finds that he is making no real progress ; per- 
haps his mind has left his work altogether, and is wandering 
to some other subject. He begins hack, therefore, a few 
verses, and endeavors to become interested in the narrative, 
but it is to little purpose ; and after spending half an hour 
in reading, he shuts his book, and instead of feeling that 
renewed moral strength and peace of mind which comes 
from the proper use of the word of God, he feels disappointed 
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 Christian countries, does this 
description justly portray. 

Now some one may say, that this careless and useless 
study of God's word arises from a cold and indifierent state 
of heart towards God. It does unquestionably often arise, in 
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 
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 Avails of a school-room 
there was once painted in large letters, "a place fop^ every 
THING, AND EVEPv,Y THING IN ITS PLACE ;" but after a little 
time the pupils, becoming familiar with the sight of the in- 
scription, 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 around 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, that I am now to consider is, that 
in reading the Bible, especially those portions which are 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 227 

familiar, M'e stop with merely repeating once more the words, 
mstead of penetrating fully to the meaning beyond. In order 
to illustrate this difficulty and its remedy more fully, let me 
take a passage, the sLxth chapter of St John for example, 
to which I have opened. 

" After these things Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, which 
is the sea of Tiberias. And a great multitude followed him, be- 
cause 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 slight 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 prayer by the master of a family ; 
how many of the children would hear it without being inter- 
ested, or receiving any clear and vivid ideas from the de- 
scription. And how many would there be who, if they were 
asked two hours afterwards what had been read that morn- 
ing, 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 
verses 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 ro- 
mantic scenery of Palestine, from which they might overlook 
the country of Gahlee, actually show them 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 



228 THE YOUNa CHEISTIAN. 

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 — there is a 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 splashing 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 disciples, walks 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. Another 
and another comes. A crowd gradually collects around 
him. He retreats slowly up the rising ground, and after a 
little time he is seen to take his place upon an elevated 
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 
impression would be made upon those minds. Years, and 
perhaps the whole of life itself, would not obliterate it. 
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 I have 
here said has impressed tliis scene upon your minds more 
distinctly than the simple language of the Bible ? Why, it 
is only because I have endeavored to lead you to picture 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 229 

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 manner the whole of the 
account. Each reader can, if he will task his imagination, 
paint for himself the scenes which the Bible describes. 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 to his mind 
vivid and clear conceptions of all which is represented there, 
he will be interested. He will find new and striking scenes 
coming up continually to view, and will be surprised at the 
novelty and interest which this simple and easy efibrt will 
throw over those very portions of the Bible to which tho 
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 mast 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, conceive 
it to be a long sandy beach, with a lofty bank and a ver- 
dant field behind ; or you may have it an open wood, slop- 
ing gradually down to the water's edge ; or a rocky, irregu- 
lar coast, full of indentations ; or a deep and narrow bay, 
whose shores are overhung with willows. Let it assume 
either of these forms, or any other which your fancy may 
portray, and which may suit the circumstances of the narra- 



230 THE YOUK& CHTaSTIAN. 

tive ; only let it be something distinct — clear and distinct 
in all its parts ; so that if you had power to represent upon 
canvas by painting the conceptions of your mind, you might 
execute a perfect picture of the whole scene. 

To do this properly 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 in difierent 
individuals. The faculty can, however, be cultivated and 
strengthened by exercise. Historical painters, that is, paint- 
ers of historical scenes, are enabled to produce very great 
effects by the possession of this power. West, for 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 has thus produced has been gazed at with intense 
interest by many thousands. 

I saw this picture in the gallery of the Athena3um 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 should 
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 
interest, and almost in perfect silence, upon the scene. As 
we came forward before the canvas we felt the same sol- 
emn impression which had silenced the others ; and it was 
interesting and affecting to observe, as party after party 
came up the stairs, talking with their usual freedom, that 
their voices gradually died away, and they stood silent and 
subdued before the picture of the Saviour. 

Yes ; there stood the Saviour in the middle of the pic- 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 231 

ture, passive and resigned, and with a countenance whose 
expression plainly said that his thoughts were far away. 
The Roman governor stood before his palace endeavoring 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 inno- 
cent one before them were to be pierced. All the other 
attendant circumstances were most vividly and strikingly 
represented. The mob were there, Avith fury and rage and 
hate in every variety upon their countenances. Barabbas 
was there, with his look of hardened and unsubdued guilt — 
and the centurion's little daughter, whose life Jesus had 
saved, stood by 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 colors on the canvas. 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. Writifig questions. A young man, with pen and 
paper before him, sits down, I will suppose, to the examina- 
tion of some portion of the Bible, intending to write ques- 
tions upon the passage, such as he would ask if he were 
teaching a class in a Sabbath-school. Suppose he opens to 
the account of Abraham's offering Isaac. 

The following is the passage : I copy it, that the reader 
may the better understand the questions. 

" 1 . And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt 
Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham; and he said^ Behold, 
here T am. 



232 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

" 2. And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, 
whom thou lovest. and get thee into the land of ]\loriah ] and 
ofier him there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains 
which I will tell 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 
v/ent unto the place of which God had told him. 

'• 4. Then on the third day, Abraham lifted iip liis eyes, and 
saw the place afar off. 

" 5. And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here 
vrith 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 are contained. I ought also to remark, that I do 
not offer 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 w^as 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 might 
be written by intelligent young persons. Some of them are, 
liow^ever, evidently not good. A leading question ought not 
to be asked, that is, one so written as to imply what the 
answer is ; nor ought it to be so written that the answer 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 233 

should be simply yes or no. No. 3 of the above is a lead- 
ing 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 young persons in such an 
exercise, I asked a boy to write for me some questions on 
Acts 19, and I insert them just as he gave them to me. It 
was his first attempt. 

"When Apollos was at Corinthj 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 Paul had laid his hands upon them, Nvhat happened ? 
How many men were they ? 
Where did Paul then go ? 
What did he do ? 

What did he do when divers were hardened ? 
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 thirteenth 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 ? 



234 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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, v/ould 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 
hpon 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 connections are considered, and the mind becomes 
thoroughly familiarized with it ; for you will find, after a 
very little practice, that the same fact may be made the 
subject of a great number of different questions, and looking 
at these and choosing between them is a raiost valuable in- 
tellectual exercise. Take, for instance, the very question I 
have already spoken of particularly. No. 8. See how many 
different questions, or rather, in how many forms, some bad 
and some good, the same question can be asked upon the 
sinffle verse to which it relates. 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 235 

1. "What did Abraham say to the young men when he 
reached the mountain ? 

2. What plan did Abraham form when he reached the 
mountain ? 

3. Did all the party go together to the place where Isaac 
was to be ofiered ? 

4. How was the party divided when they reached the 
raiountain ? 

5. How many persons went with Abraham to the place 
of sacrifice ? 

6. When Abraham Avent 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 say 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 number of questions. After a very little practice, 
several questions will suggest themselves at each verse to any 
individual v/ho attempts the exercise. He will consider which 
to choose. He will in thus considering, 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 a book which the pupil desires 
thoroughly to understand, that it is not unfrequently adopted 
in schools — each pupil of a class being required to M^ite ques- 
tions upon a part or upon the whole of a lesson, which ques- 
tions 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 



236 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

experiment, and after writing the questions, I will read them 
to some younger members of the family, to see if they can 
find the answers." Perhaps the individual who resolves on 
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. I will study, and you 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 atten- 
tively, and try to understand it, and remember what it says. 
Then, after tea, we v/ill 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 gath- 
er into a little circle, and read their lesson aloud, verse by 
verse, questioning each other in regard to its difficulties, and 
endeavoring to anticipate the questions which the mother is 
preparing. Even the little Benjamin of the family is inter- 
ested ; who, though he can scarcely read, looks attentively 
upon his Bible with the large print, hoping that there will 
be some easy question which wall come to him. 

At the aj)pointed 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 fault of the scholars ; still, a large propor- 
tion are understood and answered. The moral lessons of 
the chapter are brought to view, and gently but forcibly 
impressed upon the heart. 

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 pupi>" 
somewhat as follows : 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 237 

" I have been writing some new questions on this les- 
son. NoAV I do not suppose you can answer many of them, 
because 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 will in such a case find the curiosity and interest of 
your class strongly awakened ; and though your first exper- 
iment may not fully succeed, you may say to them, " I will 
write some more for next week. When you are studying 
your lessons then, I should like to have you remember that 
I am writing other questions than those in the book, and 
endeavor to understand and remember every fact stated in 
the lesson, so that you can answer all Tny questions as well 
as the printed ones. I know it will be hard, but I presume 
you can do it." 

A Sabbath-school teacher who will make such efibrts as 
these to render 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 fourteen, is to be left at home. 

"What shall I do this evening?" asks the son. 

" What would you like to do ?" 

" 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 fifth 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 



238 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 your own account of it, just as if you were 
writing a letter to me, and describmg 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 minutely, 
and notice many points of interest which would ordinarily 
escape him. 

Once when I asked a lad, under similar circumstances 
to the above, to re-write this passage, he had not been five 
minutes at his work before 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 will first give the passage. 

LUKE 5:1-11. 

'• 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 by the lake : but the fisher-, 
men 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 frpm 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 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 239 

" 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, Nvhich 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, 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 tliis : 

" In the second verse," says he, " it is said, that the fish- 
ermen 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 i7i his boat." 

How appa'rent was it from this question, that he was 
reading the Bible understandingly, and not merely repeating 
once more the familiar sounds by which the scenes of that 
passage are described. Upon a little reflection it was mani- 
fest that Simon might have remained in his boat, while the 
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 
actual inspection of an actual example, what degree of suc- 
cess they may expect to attain. 

"Once, as Jesus was standing n^"4 jla^e (|^^^iG^4i^saEet, 
a great multitude crowded arour>a him, wlshing^o li^q^ftii 



240 THE YOUNG- CHEISTIAN. 

address them. He saw near the shore two fishing- vessels, hut 
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 
fish. And Simon said to 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 taking so 
many fishes this time, when they had been laboring 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 said he could not express that idea in any other 
way, and he adopted that method of indicating that the lan- 
guage of the Bible was in that clause retained. 

I have obtained also several other specmiens of a similar 
character, written by persons of difTerent ages and of various 
intellectual attainments, two or three of which I will insert 
here. The reader M'ill observe that these were written by 
persons of very different degrees 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 a mistaken idea of true religion, resolved to procure some 
images for 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. I'his money was stolen from her by INIicah, the very 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 241 

&on for whose benefit chiefly she had formed the plan. Upon 
missing the money, she was greatly enraged, and pronounced, ia 
the hearing of her son, the severest imprecations upon the sacri- 
legious 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 vv'hat 
purpose, it was appropriated, and they accordingly procured the 
images. It was agreed, that instead of jMicah, one of his sons 
should act as priest, until a more suitable person should be ob- 
tained. The son was accordingly provided with sacerdotal ap- 
parel and consecrated 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. Tliis man seemed 
to be out of employment, and being of the Levites, the tribe set 
apart for the holy offices, JMicah thought he should do well to 
retain him as his family priest. Accordingly he made to him 
proposals to this efiect, 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 ]\Iicah's house a 
number 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, ^Yhen these men came to Micah's house, they rec- 
ognized with surprise 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 regard- 
ed 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 
favorable answer. The event vfas 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, informed 
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 themselves need such an establish- 

Y. Christian. 1 1 



242 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

ment, they inquired what had best be done. After some delib- 
eration, it was agreed forcibly to take from Micah his images 
and the sacerdotal garments, and to entice the priest to go with 
them. Accordingly, while the rest of the army remained as 
guards at the entrance of the house, the five men before men- 
tioned 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 tribe than of only one 
man?' The Levite was overjoyed at the proposal, 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 neighbors to his assist- 
ance, and collecting a small company together, he went in pur- 
suit of the depredators. As he approached the army, they in- 
quired of him why he had come out with such a company. 
'What ails you?' said they, ' TVliat ails me!' replied Micah; 
'you have taken from me my priest and my gods, and now you 
ask, ' What ails me V ' You had better return to your house,' 
said some one of the number, ' or you will lose your life,' See- 
ing 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 wor- 
ship of their stolen images, under the direction of the runaway 
priest," 

The two following are upon the same subject, but the 
writers were eleven and seventeen years of age. They are 
accordingly very different in their style and character, 

BELSHAZZAR'S 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 dranli wine out of them. While they 
were enjoying in impious mirth the feast, the fingers of' a man's 
hand were seen on the plastering of the wall, over against the 
candlestick. Then was the king very much frightened, and his 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 243 

knees smote against each other. He sent for all the wise men 
in the kingdom to read the wTiting, but they could not. Then 
he called aloud again, If any man can read it he shall be clothed 
in scarletj 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 Persian.s. 
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 fes- 
tival day in Babylon, and the inhabitants had not yet sunk into 
repose. The song and the dance still continued, and the voice 
of music was heard. All seemed in perfect security, and no 
precautions had been taken to avoid the danger which hung over 
their devoted heads. An invading army was, even then, sur- 
rounding the walls of the city; but those who ought to have 
defended it, confident and secure, left it unguarded and exposed 
to the attacks of the enemy. Fear was excluded even from the 
walls of the palace, and the monarch was giving his own exam- 
ple of rioting and mirth to his subjects. A thousand of the no- 
blest lords in his kingdom were feasting with him as his invited 
guests. They had already ' tarried long at the wine,' when Bel- 
shazzar. in the pride and impiety of his heart, commanded his 
servants to bring the silver and golden vessels which had 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 consternation. 
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, 
' ]\Iene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin.' No one among that vast com- 
pany understood its meaning, but to their affrighted imagination 



244 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

it was full of portentous import. The king, who was exceed- 
ingly terrified, sent in haste for all the astrologers, and those 
persons in whose powers of divination he had heen accustomed 
to place confidence ; but none could explain the mysterious warn- 
ing. At this juncture the queen entered, and informed 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 reproying the trembling and condemned 
monarch for the pride of heart which he had manifested, reveal- 
ed to him the doom vv'hich 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 Per- 
eians ; and also, that his own character had been examined, and 
found lamentably deficient. 

" The reward which had 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 king- 
dom. Ere 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 origmal writing was, "Mene, Mene, Tekel, TJpharsin;" why, 
in the interpretation, is Pe^-es substituted for TJpharsin ? 

It is a very good plan to write questions at the close of 
eucli an exercise as in the last specimen, bringing up diiii- 
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 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 effort 
undoubtedly impressed the facts on his memory with a dis- 
tinctness which remained for years. 



STUDY OF THE B.BLE. 245 

4. Collating the Scriptures. The next method I shall 
describe, by Vnich variety and efficiency can be given to 
your study of the Scriptures, may be called collation. It 
consists of carefully comparing two or morf^ different accounts 
of the sam^e 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 
require 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. 
"VVe will suppose James to be thirteen or fourteen years of 
age, and John some years younger. 

John. " "\Yell, what shall we read ?" 

Jaivfes. " 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?" 

Jat.ies. " 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, until at 
last James says, 

" Here it is ; I have found it : it is in the twenty-sixth 
chapter." 

" No," says John, " it is in the twenty-second ; it begins 
at the fourth verse." 

James. " Let me see it. 0, there are two accounts in 
his speeches : that makes three in all. AYould you compare 
them all ?" 

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." 



246 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

James. " AVell, let us see where these two speeches 
were made." 

The boys then examme the introductory remarks comiect- 
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 Jeru- 
salem.' 

"Now you may read as much," he continues, " m th<* 
twenty-second chapter." 

John. " Where shall I begin ?" 

James. Looking at the passage : " At the hfth verse, I 
believe." 

John. Reading: "' 5. As also the high-priest both bear 
me witness, and all the estate of the elders ; from whom 
also I received letters unto the brethren, and went to Damas- 
cus, to bring them which were there bound unto Jerusalem, 
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 ; 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 farther 
than to notice such obvious points of comparison as those I 
have mentioned ; but a maturer mind, attempting this same 
exercise, would go far deeper, and consequently with a 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 247 

stronger interest, into the subject. Sucli an one will take 
great pleasure in observing how every expression in the 
account in the twenty-second chapter corresponds with the 
circumstances in which Paul Avas placed. He was in Jeru- 
salem. A great popular tumult had been excited against 
him. A few of his 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 immense 
throng had gathered 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 stand- 
ing upon the stairs of the castle, above the tumultuous sea 
from wliich 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 
assembly as their fellow-countryman — one who had long 
resided among them, and had regarded them as brethren. 
How natural is it, therefore, that he should speak so distinctly 
of his connection with the JewisPi nation. He commences 
his account with the statement that he is a Jew — by birth, 
by education, and by feelings. This peculiarity in the speak- 
er's condition accounts most fully and in a most interesting 
manner for the difference between the expressions which he 
uses here, and those used in the ninth 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, employing the simple historical 
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 
to his purpose. 



248 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

I make tnese remarks, not to go into a commentary upon 
Paul's speech, but to show what kind of reflections will occur 
to an intelligent mind, in thus collating difierent portions of 
the sacred volume. Notice every difference ; and endeavor 
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 character and conduct so 
natural and yet so simple as to constitute almost irresistible 
evidence of the reality of the scenes wliich the sacred history 
describes. 

There are a great many of the events of which two dif- 
ferent accounts are given in the Bible, which may be advan- 
tageously collated in the manner I have described. 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. 1 Kings, 2 Chronicles. 

Revolt of the ten tribes. 1 Kings, 2 Chronicles, 

Story of Elisha. 

Story of Elijah. 

Story of Hezeiqah. Kings, Chronicles, and Isaiah. 

Genealogical line from Adam to Abraham. Genesis 
and 1 Chronicles. 

Catalogue of the Kings of Israel. Kings and Chron- 
icles. 

Catalogue of the Kings of Judah. Kings and Chron- 
icles. 

Preaching of John the Baptist. Matthew, Mark, 
Luke, and John. 

The Temptation of Christ. Matthew, Mark, and 
Luke. 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 249 

The SxU'ioutv's Arrest. Four Evangelists. 
' His Trial. Four Evangelists. 
His Death. Four Evangelists. 
His Resurrection. Four Evangelists. 
Institution of the Lord's Supper. MattheM'' and 
1 Corinthians. 

Genealogy of Christ. Matthew and Luke. 

The above subjects differ very much in the degree of 
intellectual effort necessary for their examination, and in 
nearly all the reader will often be involved in difficulties 
which he cannot easily remove. If we merely read the 
Bible, chapter after chapter, in a sluggish and formal man- 
ner, we see little to interest us and little to perplex ; but in 
the more thorough and scrutinizing mode of study which I 
here suggest, both by this mode and the others I have been 
describing, we shall find beauties and difficulties coming up 
together. Let every one then who undertakes such a colla- 
tion of different accounts, expect difficulty. Do not be sur- 
prised at apparent contradictions in the narrative ; you wiU 
find many. Do not be surprised when you find various cir-" 
cumstances in the different accounts which you find it im- 
possible for you to bring together into one view ; you must 
expect such difficulties. Look at them calmly and patiently ; 
seek solutions from commentaries and from older Christians, 
and what you cannot by these means understand, quietly 
leave. A book which, under divine guidance, employed the 
pens of from fifty to a hundred writers — scattered through a 
period of four thousand years ; whose scenes extend over a 
region of immense extent, and whose narratives are involved 
with the most minute history of all the great nations of an- 
tiquity — Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Rome — such 
a book you must not expect to understand fully in a day. 

5. Studying by subjects. Select some subject upon 
which a good deal of information may be found in various 

11=^ 



250 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

parts of the Bible, and make it your object to bring together 
mto 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 Concord- 
ance 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 Avhat 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 informa- 
tion in regard to this apostle, omitting those parts which 
relate to other subjects. In this way you become fully ac- 
quainted with his character and history ; you understand it 
as a whole. 

Jerusalem is another good subject, and the examination 
would afford 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 circumstances connected with the earliest accounts of it, 
ascertain what sort of a city it was at that time. Then follow 
its history down ; notice the changes as they occur ; under- 
stand every revolution ; examine the circumstances 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 careful investigation. You cannot do it as you 
can read a chapter, carelessly and with an unconcerned and 
uninterested mind ; you must, if you would succeed in such 
an investigation, engage in it iii earnest. And that is the 
very advantage of such a method of study ; it breaks up 
effectually that habit of listless, dull, inattentive reading of 
the Bible which so extensively prevails. 

You may take the subject of the Sabbath; examine the 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE.- 251 

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 supposed. 
There are a great number of biographical and geographical 
topics — a great number which relate to manners, and cus- 
toms, 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 freshness and 
vividness which, in the mere repeated reading of the Scrip- 
tures in regular course, can never be seen. It may assist 
the reader who is disposed to try the experiment, if I pre- 
sent a small list ; it might be extended easily to any 
length. 

BIOGEAPHICAL TOPICS. 
Hezekiah. Isaiah. Peter. 

Daniel. Jeremiah. Nicodemus. 

Elijah. Herod. ' Judas. 

Elisha. John the Baptist. 

aEOaRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL TOPICS. 
Jerusalem. Jordan. Sidon. 

Egypt. Damascus. Philistines. 

Nile. Samaria. Moabites. 

Babylon. Sea of Galilee. Ammonites. 

Red Sea. Tyre. Ethiopia. 

TOPICS RELATING TO RELIGIOUS RITES. 
Sacrifices. Passover. Baptism. 

Sabbath. Fasting. Lord's Supper. 

Pentecost. Ark of the Covenant. Synagogues. 

Feast of Tabernacles. Tabernacle. 

There are various other methods which might be men 
tioned and described ; but enough has been said to enable, 



252 THE YOUNG CHE.ISTIA1T. 

I think, any one who is disposed, to engage at once, for a 
short time each Sahbath, in such an intellectual study of 
the Bible. Parents can try the experiments I have above 
described in their families ; and Sabbath-school teachers can 
try them in their classes. Sabbath-schools would be aston- 
ishingly improved at once, if the teachers would put their 
ingenuity into requisition to devise and execute new plans, 
go as to give variety to the exercises. There would be a 
spirit and interest exhibited, both by teacher and pupil, 
which the mere servile reading of printed questions, and 
listening to answers mechanically learned, never can pro- 
duce. 

There is far too little of this intellectual study of the 
Bible, even among the most devoted Christians. Its litera- 
ture, its history, its biography, the connection 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 co^iscieitce, not to the literary taste of men ; 
and is designed to guide their devotions, not to gratify their 
curiosity, or their love of historic truth. But why is it 
that God has chosen the historic form, as a means of com- 
municating his truth ? Why is it that his communications 
with mankind were for so many years so completely involved 
with the political history of a powerful nation, that its 
whole history must be given ? Why is our Saviour's mis- 
sion so connected with the Roman government, and all this 
connection 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 Saviour taught might have been 
presented in their simple didactic form. The whole plan of 
salvation, through the sufierings of a Redeemer, might have 
been given us in one single statement, 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 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 253 

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 minute incidents in the 
biographies of a thousand men? One reason doubtless is, 
that we may be excited by the incident and story ; that 
rehgion and impiety may be respectively 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 histor^j, and to enter into all the 
incidents which are detailed, we lose the very benefit which 
the Spirit had in view in making the Bible such a volume 
as it is. Without such an occasional effort to make the 
Scriptures a study, examining them intellectually, compar- 
ing one part with another, and endeavoring to bring vividly 
to view the scenes which they present to our minds, it may 
safely be said that no one can truly understand the Bible, 
or enter into the spirit of its descriptions, its warnings, and 
its appeals. 

Bat after all, the great object in studying the Bible is 
not merely to understand it. The revelation which God 
has made is addressed, not so much to the intellect as to 
the consciences and hearts of men ; and unless it reaches 
the conscience and the heart, it entirely fails of accomplish- 
ing 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 conduct the practical lessons Avhich it teaches. 

All persons, therefore, even if unable to secure time 
daily for a systematic study of the Bible, should read a por- 
tion of it 'practically every day. This part of my subject 
does not need so full an illustration as the other, for the 
great difficulty in regard to reading the Scriptures practi- 
cally, is a want of disposition to do it. They who really 
wish to learn their duty and overcome their temptations, 



254 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

who desire that the sins of their hearts and lives should be 
brought to their' view by the word of God, will be enabled 
to make for themselves an application of the truths which 
the Bible contains. 

Will not all my readers do this, faithfully and persever- 
ingly ? Resolve to bring a short portion of the preceptive 
or devotional parts of the Scriptures home to your heart 
every day ; and let your object be, not so much to extend 
your intellectual view of the field opened to you in its pages, 
as to increase its moral and spiritual influence upon your 
heart and conduct. Be not so careful, theii, to read this 
exact quantity, or that ; but to *brmg home some portion 
really and fully to the heart and to the conscience — to do 
it so forcibly, that the influence of those few verses read 
and pondered in the morning, will go with you through the 
day. 

Heading the Bible is, however, sometimes practised with 
a very diflerent 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 thought- 
lessly, the portion which comes in course. He looks up 
occasionally, to observe the sports of his brothers and sis- 
ters, 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 unfurnished and 
almost an unfinished httle room in som^e 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 young apprentice — and must almost immediately go 
forth to kindle his morning fire, and to prepare his place of 
business for the labors of the day. He first, however, takes 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 255 

his little Testament fiom 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, "graciously apply the instruc- 
tions of this book to my heart, and let me be governed by 
it to-day ; so that I m.ay 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 
affectioned one to another wdth brotherly love ; in honor 
preferring one another." He pauses — his faithful self- apply- 
ing thoughts run over the scenes through which he is that 
day to pass, and he considers in what cases this verse ought 
to influence him. " ' Be kindly aflectioned.' 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 honor preferring one another.' " As he sees 
these words, he sighs to reflect how many times he has 
been jealous of his fellow- apprentices on account of marks 
of trust and favor shown to them, or. envious of the some- 
what superior privileges enjoyed by those older than him- 
self, and he prays that God will forgive him, and make him 
humble and kind-hearted in future, to all around him. 

" Not slothful in business ; fervent in spirit ; serving 
the Lord." He stops to consider w^hether he is habitually 
industrious, improving all his time in such a manner as to 
be of the greatest advantage to his master ; whether he is 
fervent in spirit, that is, 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, that is, 
whether all his duties are discharged from motives of love 
to his Maker and Preserver. While he thus muses, the fire 
burns. He shuts his book, and asks God to protect him, as 
he now must go out into the labors 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, 



256 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

and they serve as a memorial of kindness and love to man, 
and fidelity towards 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 paths. Which now 
of these, do you think, reads the Bible aright ? 

Let no child w^ho 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 .s^jiW/^ and manner with which the Bible is read, 
than the qiiantiUj, 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 circumstances, and of these the individual must, 
in most cases, be the judge. 



THE SABBATH. 257 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE SABBATH. 
' E,emember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy." 

My readers are undoubtedly generally aware, that the 
present obligation to keep the Sabbath has been, by some 
persons, denied, on the ground that keeping one day in seven 
holy is a sort of ceremony, and that it was only intended to 
be required of the Jewish nation. I do not intend, in this 
chapter, to enter at all into a discussion of that subject. 
Most, if not all of those who will read this book, are undoubt- 
edly satisfied m regard to it. I will, however, simply state 
the facts, on the ground of w^hich the present binding author- 
ity 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 empire 
itself should extend and continue, unless it should be dis- 
tinctly repealed. And so with a duty established at the 
foundation of a world. 

Many years afterwards the Creator gave a yqyj 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 cereraonial laws were merely repeated to Moses, 



258 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

and he made a record of tliem ; you will find them in nearly 
all the chapters of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. AH the 
regulations relating to sacrifices are of this character. The 
moral laws were, however, given in the most solemn man- 
ner from mount Sinai. They are the ten commandments, 
and they were written, by the direct power of God himself, 
upon tablets of stone, which were carefully preserved. 

Now, as if to remove all possible ground of doubt in 
regard 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 ivilling 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 
authority of the Sabbath, not to spend his time in looking for 
the arguments for and against 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 resur- 
rection, that Christians observed that day instead of the 
former one, as sacred time. There is no direct command to 
do this on record, and no indication that there was any con- 
troversy about it at the time. They all at once simultane- 
ously change. They keep one day in seven as before, but it 
is a difierent day. We infer that they had some authority 
for so doing, though it is not at all necessary that that au- 



THE SABBATH. 259 

Ihority should be specified. It is the custom in most of the 
schools in New England to consider the afternoon of Satur- 
day a half-holiday. ISTow, suppose a boy should leave this 
country to go on a foreign voyage, and after being absent 
many months, should return, and find, when Saturday after- 
noon comes, that all the boys in his native town go to school 
as usual, but that on Monday afternoon the schools are all 
suspended. He sees that this is the universal custom, a-nd 
it continues so permanently. Now" it is not, under these 
circumstances, at all necessary that the original vote of the 
school committee by which the change was made should 
come before liim. The universality of the 'practice is the 
best of evidence in such a case. No boy would wish for 
more. It is just so with the evidence we have that the 
Sabbath was changed. Suddenly all Christians changed 
their practice ; they changed together, and without any evi- 
dence of a controversy, and the new arrangement 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 doubt 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 God'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 sunset, midnight, or 
morning marks the beginning of the sacred day. The dif- 
ference of views on this subject produces some difference of 
practice. There are some Christians who prefer to keep 
Saturday as holy time, and not Sunday, regarding the former 
as the seventh day meant by the commandment. There is 
a difference of practice, too, in regard to the time of com- 
mencing the holy day. In some places the Sabbath is under* 



260 THE YOUNG CHEISTIAN. 

stood to begin on the evening of Saturday, so that when the 
STin goes down on Sunday evening, they return to their usual 
duties and cares. In other places, midnight is considered as 
the limit wliich marks the beginning and the end of sacred 
time. 

The actual inconvenience arising from this diversity is 
comparatively shght. The great evil which these differences 
of opinion produce, is the interminable disputes which arise 
from them. Perhaps some of my readers, when they saw 
the subject of the Sabbath amiounced, may have beeiv curi- 
ous 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 
on Sabbath morning. Is ow, hi fact, I am going to take both 
sides. I am going to tiy to convince you that it is entirely 
immaterial which is adopted, and that the vrhole subject is 
completely unworthy of being made a matter of controversy 
among Christian bretliren. 

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 follow^g 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 essoitial, it 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 begm, and therefore we are left at liberty to begin it so as 
to correspond with a7iy establislied and 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 



THE SABBATH. 261 

his home, leaves his two boys with the command that they 
shall work, every day, a little v/hile in the garden. Kow, 
in such a case as tliis, 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 vrith 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 
midnight, 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 feiv hours every forenoon in the garden." This would 
have been a little more definite. And just so far as it is 
definite m regard to the time, just so far it would be binding 
in that respect. They would not now be at liberty to choose 
whether they would work forenoon or afternoon, but still they 
would be at liberty in regard to the precise time of begin- 
ning. If one of the boys should attempt to prove that they 
ought to begin exactly at half past eight, because the father 
had usually begun at that hour, or because the neighbors 
did, the other might reply, that the time of beginning was 
not specified in the command, and they might, if they chose, 
begin at an earlier or later hour, if they only honestly ful- 
filled the command by working faitlifully as much as they 
supposed 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 ^^-ish you, my sons, to 
spend from nine to twelve o'clock every day, in the gar- 
den, working for me." This leaves them much less discre- 
tionary power. The time for beginning and ending is dis- 
tinctly specified, and the command is binding, in regard to 
these points of form and manner, just so far as they are dis- 
tinctly specified. Still, there is roorn for a dispute. The 
spirit which makes so much of a controversy on the ques- 



262 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

tion whether holy time begins at sundown or at midnight, 
would have easily made a controversy here. For we will 
suppose that there was a clock in the hall of the house, 
and a dial in the garden. All my readers are aware, I pre- 
sume, 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 
corresponding with it exactly. Soinetimes the dial, which 
marks ajyparent 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 command 
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 prac- 
tice 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 unquestionably 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 to 
have us begin at any precise moment." " If you prefer the 
clock," one might say, " I have no objection 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 had any 
preference, he would have stated it." 

Just so in regard to the Sabbath. God says in substance, 
*' Keep holy one day in seven." There is no minute specifi- 
cation in regard to the moment of commencing ; Ave are at 
liberty, therefore, to commence according to any establisliecl 
and common method of computing time. 

May not, then, the principle stated above be considered as 



THE SABBATH. 263 

universal, m regard to obedience to all laws of a ceremonial 
nature ? So far as thefonn and maimer arc deemed essen- 
tial, they are always distinctly exp)'essed in the laiu. Look 
at the laws in these States for the solemnization of mar- 
riages : all that is essential is distinctly 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 color ; he 
might choose blue or white, or any other hue : and if his 
neighbor 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 color is not 
specified." So with Christians in keeping the Sabbath. It 
is not essential whether you begin at sundown or at mid- 
night ; if you keep the Sabbath faithfully and regularly 
according to one method or the other, you obey the com- 
mand ; the moment for beginning is not specified. 

It seems to me that any person who endeavors to obtain 
a philosophical idea of the nature of our mode of computing 
time by days, must see the impossibility of marking any 
precise limit for the commencement and close of sacred time. 
Astronomers commence a day 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 difierent place ; 
so that a ship at sea, beginning a day m one place and end- 
ing it in another, sometimes will have twenty-three and a 
half and sometimes twenty-four and a half hours in her day, 
and no clock or timepiece whatever can keep her time. An 
officer of the ship is obliged to determine the beginning of 
their day every noon by astronomical observation. A sea- 



264 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

captain can often make a difference of an hour in the length 
of his day, by the direction in which he steers his ship ; he- 
cause a day begins and ends in no tv/o 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 Sand- 
wich 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 difficulty in 
marking out the limits of a day, increase 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 all distinction 
between day and night entirely ceases ; summer and wmter 
are the only change. Habitable regions do not indeed extend 
to the pole, but they extend far beyond any practical distinc- 
tion between noon and midnight, or evening and morning. 

The difference between the times of commencing days 
in different parts of the earth is so great, that a ship sailing 
round the globe loses a whole day in her reckoning, 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 endeavored to keep the Sabbath, they will not and can- 
not have corresponded with any one nation whatever in the 
times of their observance of it. I suppose my readers will 
believe these facts on my testimony ; but they will have a 
far more vivid idea of the truth in this case, if they will ask 
some sea-captain who has sailed round or half round the 
globe, if it is not so, and converse with him on some of the 



THE SABBATH. 265 

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 
marking out a precise moment at which the boundary 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, until 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. 
ISow, what will a man who supposes that our Maker meant 
to command all mankind to keep the Sabbath exactly fwin 
sunset to sunset or from midnight to midnight — what will 
such a man say to a Christian in Greenland, where 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 
give to some of the people to whom the command was ad- 
dressed, no sunset or midnight for months at a time ? No ; 
it is absurd to press a written command to any greater strict- 
ness, in regard to the form and manner of its observance, 
than the letter expresses. God says to us simply, " Keep 
holy one day in seven." We may reckon that day in any of 
the prevailing methods of computing time. If it was cus- 
tomary in old times to reckon the day from sunset to sunset, 
the servants of God would probably reckon their Sabbaths 
BO 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 sinrit, but we need not press tlie 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 binder the command, in a point which 

y. Cliristian. 12 



2GG THE YOUNa CHEISTIAN. 

the letter of the law does not fix. Christians labor six days 
and rest the seventh 7iGiv. 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 
of labor there shall be regularly one of rest. This require- 
ment has never been changed or touched ; it stands among 
the ten commands, unaltered and unalterable, like all the 
rest. The 'practice, in a point not fixed by the phraseology 
of the command, is indeed altered; but that no more afiects 
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. Yvlio would 
think of saying 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 conse- 
quently the law is broken ?" The law would not be broken 
unless it unequivocally mentioned parchment in contradis- 
tinction from all other materials. The day then in j)resent 
use is to be continued as the holy time until it is changed by 
proper authority, and the change made known in a,proper 
manner. But that authority and that manner need not be 
by any means so formal as was the original command, be- 
cause it does not alter that command at all ; it only alters 
practice 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 if the 
precise time of God's resting is to be reckoned, 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 



THE SABBATH, 237 

it, gives evidence that it v/as intended for general circa] atiou 
amoiig mankind. To a person standing still in one place, 
and looking no farther than to his own limited horizon, the 
word day seems definite enough ; but when a voice from 
mount Sinai speaks to the whole v/crld, commanding ail 
men, at sea and on land, in Arctic regions and under an 
equinoctial sun, under every meridian arid 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 v/hole field, fmd a precise and 
universal limit. The command, if v.^e consider it as address- 
ed to the icorld, is entirely indefinite in regard to the precise 
period of the commencement and close of sacred tim^e ; but 
the great principle of it is clear : Keep one day in seven, 
according to some common mode of commutation, holy to 
the Lord. 

I should not have spent so much time in endeavoring to 
prove that minute accuracy in regard to the form and man- 
ner of obeying this command are unattamable, were it not 
that this discussion involves a jy^incij^le which applies to 
many.other cases ; so that if you are induced to see its rea- 
sonableness and to admit its force in this case, you will be 
saved a great deal of useless perplexity about the minutiss of 
forms in a great many other cases. E,emember then tliis 
principle, that commands are to be obeyed in their spirit, 
except v/here the precise form is a matter of positive and 
distinct specif cation . 

I have one or two practical remarks to make in reference 
t D this part of my subject. 

1 . In respect to those points of duty on which the Scrip- 
tures give no direct instructions, you w^ill do well to conform 
to the customs of Christians around you. If you live in a 
community where the Sabbath is generally commenced on 
Saturday evening, begin yours at that time ; conform not 



268 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

only in tliis, but in all other unimportant points ; kneel, or 
stand, or sit at praj^ers, as other people do around you. I 
have known persons so controlled by the determination to 
have their own way in little things, and to consider all other 
ways wrong, that they could not sit at table while a bless 
ing was asked, as is the common custom in many places, 
without being very much shocked at the imaginary irrever- 
ence. Some men Avill be pained if a minister says ice 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 Christian cannot endure a 
ivritten prayer ; another cannot bear an extemjjore one. A 
is troubled if there is an organ in the church, and B thinks 
that music at church is nothing without 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 Avilling to give up, in consideration 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, 
to the customs of men, except in those cases where the letter 
or the spirit of the Bible forbids, 

2. This discussion reminds me of one great and striking 
characteristic of many, if not all, of God's commands. Tlicy 
are iieculiarhj liable to evasion. This is one of their excel- 
lences, as a part of a system of moral discipline. The object 
of human laws is to prevent injury from crime — not to im- 
prove and perfect the character. The object of divine laws 
is to discipline moral beings, to train them up to moral 
^strength, and make them sincere and faithful servants ot 



THE SABBATH. 269 

their Master in heaven. This gives rise to a great difference 
in the form of the commands 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 transgression. Hence the enactments of men are 
very voluminous. The laws of a state on the subject of 
theft will fill a volume ; but God disposes of the whole sub- 
ject 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 
quibbling and evasion, he may — the door is wide open : and 
this is what gives the law of God its admirable adaptedness 
to be the means of moral discipline to the human soul. 

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 might, 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 
begin, and exactly the manner in which its hours are to be 
spent ; nay, more, he might have so 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 simjile 
language. They who wish to obey, can easily ascertain 
what they ought to do ; and they who do not, will easily 
find excuses. 

There are some, and perhaps many, who make the ques- 
tion w^hether Saturday or Sunday evening is to be kept, an 
excuse for keeping neither. But those who ivuh to obey 
GocVs commands, will keep one or the other faithfully ; and 
one great design in having uncertainty in such cases as this, 



270 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

is unquestionably to try us — to see who does and who does 
not wish on vain pretexts to evade God's commands. 

I proceed to consider the S2oirit and manner in which 
the Sabbath should be kept 

The Sabbath is designed to interpose an effectual inter- 
ruption to all worldly business, and to promote as higlily as 
possible the improvement of the character. Do, then, these 
two things : first, suspend all worldly pursuits ; and, second, 
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 heart 
upon reading the Bible through in as short a time as possible, 
and he thinks tliere is no v/ay of spending the Sabbath so 
properly 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 
how long it will take him at that rate to get through a 
certain book. He can hardly wait for family prayers to 
be over, 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 congratulatmg himself on his progress ; but 
alas, he has made no progress in piety. Reading chapters 
in the Bible as if he was reading on a wager, is not making 
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 affectionate brother, 
or a more humble and devoted Christian. No, he has read 
twenty chapters in the Bible. He has been making no new 
discoveries of his secret sins, has obtained no new views of 



THE SABBATH. 271 

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 heen 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, smd 
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 in a proper manner. Many 
a boy has w-asted every hour of the Sabbath, and yet done 
little else but rea.d the Bible from morning to night. 

Many J^oung persons think there is no way to break the 
Sabbath but by work or play. But the spirit and mean- 
ing of the fourth command undoubtedly is, that the Sab- 
bath 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 liis windov/ studying his Sabbath- 
school lesson ; his object, I will suppose, is not to learn his 
duty and to do it, but he wishes to surpass some companion 
at the recitation, or perhaps is actuated by a mere selfish 
desire to obtain a reward v/hich has been, perhaps very im- 
properly, ofiered him ; he looks out of the window across the 
valley which extends before his father's house, and sees upon 
a beautiful pond there, a boat full of his playmates pushing 
ofi^from the shore on an excursion of pleasure. 

"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 sincere efforts to discover 
and confess and abandon sin, and to become pure and holy 



272 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

and devoted to him. Now, both the boys m 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 honor of 
superiority in his class. The day is misspent and perverted 
in both cases. 

Mrs. X is the mother of several children, and she is 

exceedingly 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 
business is brought to a close, so that the minds of all her 
family may be free. All this is excellent ; but how does 
she actually spend the sacred hours ? Why, her whole 
attention is devoted to enforcing the mere external duties of 
religion 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 studying 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 her 
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 
design. 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, in worshipping and serving him, improve their char- 
acters, and make real preparation for another world. Now, 
unless a mother adopts such methods as shall most eflectu- 
ally promote tlie sjyiritual imjjyovement of her children, and 
unless she succeeds in interesting them in it, she does not 



THE SABBATH. 273 

attain the object in view. If your cliildren are spending 
the (lay in a cold and heartless manner, complying with 
your rules from mere fear of your authority, they are not, 
properly' speaking, keeping the Sabbath. The end in view 
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 satisfied, or there is great danger that you 
will be satisfied with the mere formality of external decorum 
on the Lord's day, forgetting that the empire in which your 
influence ought to reign on that day, is the empire of the 
heart, not the external conduct only. You ought, therefore, 
to aim at adopting such means of addressing and influenc- 
ing 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. One way to do it is to find out our 
faults, and then 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 will all 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 j^ou like to do this ?" 

A mother who manages her children in a proper manner 
12* 



274 THE YOUNG CHE.ISTIA^^ 

with habitual kindness and affection, will receive a cordial 
assent to such a proposal as this. After a few minutes she 
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 particular case which happened 
last week?" 

Mary hesitates, and John looks a little confused. 

" You may do just as you please," says the mother, 
" about mentioning it. It is unpleasant to think and talk 
about our faults, and of course it will be unpleasant for you 
to describe particularly any thing v/rong which you have 
done. But then if you do honestly and frankly confess it, 
I thmk you will be much less likely to do w^rong 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 hesi- 
tation of extorted acknowledgment, but openly and frankly, 
and in such a manner as greatly to diminish the danger of 
falling into such a sin again. When she has said all, which, 
however, may not perhaps have been more than two or 
three sentences, the mother continues, addressing herself to 
the others : 

" Yfell, children, you have heard w^hat 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 
v/as most to blame. Mary told the story, on the w^hole, in 
a very proper manner. I only asked the question, to re- 
mind you all that our object is now to learn our own faults, 



THE SABBATH. 275 

and to correct them ; and you must all try to see as much 
as possible where you yourselves have been to blame." 

She then turns to some passages of the Bible on the 
subject of forbearance and harmony between brothers and 
sisters, and reads them — not for the purpose of loading her 
children wdth invective and reproach, but of kindly and 
mildly pointmg out what God's commands are, and the 
necessity as well as tlie happiness of obeying them. 

If this is done in a proper manner, and if the mother 
watches the feelings of her little charge, and applies her 
means of influence skilfully, she may hope to succeed, cer- 
tainly after one or two trials, in producing a dislike of con- 
tention, a desire to avoid it, and a resolution to sin, in this 
respect, no more. She may in the same manner go through 
the circle — fault after fault will be brought up, its nature 
and its consequences kindly pointed out, and these com- 
mands of God v/hich bear upon the subject, plainly brought 
to viev/. The interviev/ may be closed by a short and sim- 
ple prayer — that God wall forgive, 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, 
will generally succeed ; the children will go away from it 
with consciences relieved in some degree from the burden of 
sin ; they will look back upon it as a serious, but a happy 
interviev/, and will feel — though a wise mother will not be 
overanxious to drav/ from them an exprcssio7i of that feel- 
ing — that it is a happy thing to repent of sin, and to return 
to duty. I asked my readers at the outset to imagi7ie this 
scene ; but in fact it is not an imaginary scene — in sub- 
stance, it is reality. 

This, now, is a proper employment of a part of the Sab- 
bath. Such an influence comes to the heart, and it accom- 
plishes directly and immediately the very object that God 
had in view in the appointment of the Sabbath. I only 



276 THE YOUNa CHEISTIAN. 

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 advanc- 
ing, or the object of the Sabbath is lost. Let my young 
readers remember this. Unless you are improving and ele- 
vating your character, discovering your faults and correcting 
them, learning God's will as it applies to your own conduct, 
confessing and forsaking your sins, and looking by faith to 
the Saviour — unless you are doing such work as this, you 
cannot be properly keeping the Sabbath-day. The simple 
question then is, are you willing to devote honestly and con- 
scientiously 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 rehgious subjects, all is going 
on well. You must take into careful consideration the 
nature of the human mind, and the means which, according 
to the laws M^hich the Creator has given it, are most cal- 
culated to have an infl.uence over it. This principle will 
require attention to several points. 

1 . Variety in the exercises of the Sahbath. "When I 
was thinking of this topic, and considering how I should 
present it here, I one day accidentally fell into conversation 
with a clergyman who had had far more experience as a 
teacher than I have 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 Sabbath in a proper manner, find, notwith- 
standing all their endeavors, that the sacred hours do at 
times pass heavily along. Now the Sabbath should be not 
only the Christian's most profitable, but most happy day. 



THE SABBATH. 277 

I once knew a young Christian who resolved that he would 
pass the Avhole day in prayer ; but very soon he became 
exhausted and weary. He however persevered through the 
whole day, with the exception of the few necessary inter- 
ruptions ; and when night came, he felt a deadness and 
exhaustion of feeling which he unhappily mistook for spir- 
itual desertion. INTo human mind can, in ordinary cases, 
sustain such long and intense application to one subject ; 
there must be variety, to give cheerfulness and to invigo- 
rate. Often 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 two in this way very 
pleasantly, and then he feels tired ; he tries to rouse his 
feelings, and bitterly condemns himself for unavoidable lan- 
guor. I have known persons to be greatly disquieted and 
distrustful of their Christian character, because they could 
not pass the whole of the Sabbath pleasantly in uninter- 
rupted reading the Bible and prayer. 

" There is a wide difference 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 Avith a sermon, 
or a prayer, or a hymn ? How few are there who can, with 
pleasure and profit, listen to a sermon of one hour'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 the 
case of a young married maiL He wishes to pass the Sab- 
bath in a way acceptable to God, and to enjoy his religious 
duties. He rises in good season in the morning, and com- 
mences the day with a short, but fervent prayer for the 
divine blessing; he then passes the time till breakfast in 



278 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

reading the Bible. Perhaps, for the sake of variety, he 
spends a part of the time in reading the devotional por- 
tions, and a part in perusing its interesting history. At the 
breakfast-table, with cheerful countenance and heart, he 
leads the conversation to religious subjects ; after breakfast 
he passes an hour in readmg some valuable religious book. 
Books are so numerous now, that the best practical works 
npon Christianity are easily obtained by all. Bunyan's Pil- 
grim's Progress, Baxter's Saints' E^est and Call to the 
Unconverted, Doddridge's Rise and Progress, and kindred 
works, are 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, until 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 reUgious intelligence from a periodical ; 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 appropri- 
ate passage, and reads it, with occasional 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 the feelings, and no occasion 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 v/hich 
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 active ser- 



THE SABBATH. 279 

vice there — he unites with his pastor in prayer. When a 
hymn is read, he attends to the sentiment, and makes mel- 
ody in heart to God when singing his praises. He hstens 
attentively to the sermon, feeling that the responsibility of 
being interested in it comes upon him, and he prays that 
God v/ill bless it to his ovvn soul, and to the conversion of 
others. 

" Perhaps, in the interval betv.^een forenoon and afternoon 
service, he has a class in the Sabbath-school, 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 praj^er. He appropriates a prop- 
er period to this duty, and presents his own private and per- 
sonal wants, and the spiritual interests of others, in minute 
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 Chris- 
tian usefulness for the week ; he thinks of some good object 
which he will tiy to advance, of some individual v.diom he 
v/ill 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 vv'eek. At the 
appointed hour he assembles his family for evening prayers. 
A brief reference to the religious exercises of the day, or 
some interestuig narrative, followed by the Bible, singing, and 
prayer, agahi give variety and animation to the exercise ; 
and when all the duties of the day are over, as he is retiring 
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 hfe. During the week 



280 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

he looks back upon the Sabbath with pleasure; and when 
the hght of another holy morning dawns upon him, he can 
sincerely say, 

" Welcome, delightful morn, 
Thou day of sacred rest; 
I hail thy kind return — 

Lord, make these moments blest." 

" In this way the Sabbath is a delight. It is a day of 
refreshment, 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 
variety 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 may proceed upon the same 
principle, and adapt their plans to their situation. 

2. " Syste7ii 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 per- 
plexed. He says, ' Shall I noAV retire for secret prayer, or 
shall I read a tract, or shall I take up Baxter's Saints' Rest?' 
Several moments are lost in deciding. Perhaps he takes 
Baxter ; but while reading, he stops to consider 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 perplexed. It is therefore wisdom to have a plan 
previously formed for the whole day. With a little reflection 
a plan may easily 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 assistance from rules, without making ourselves 
slaves to them. If you have domestic duties which must 
be performed upon the Sabbath, have them performed, if pes- 



THE SABBATH. 2S1 

sible, by a given hour, that they may not intrude upon oil 
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 pecuharity in your situation. Three things all 
may guard against — indolence, a worldly spirit, and too long 
application of the mind to one subject. There are no law- 
ful situations in life, in which we may not pass the day with 
improvement to ourselves and acceptably to God." 

3. Rest oil the Sabbath. We ought to remember, that 
God has ordained the Sabbath as a day of rest from labor, 
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 
out and exhausted at night. There are indeed some excep- 
tions ; ministers and Sabbath-school teachers must, in fact, 
often do a very hard day's work on the Sabbath ; they are 
laboring for the religious good of others, and must be often 
fatigued by their efforts. But Christians generally must not 
so fill up the hours with mental labor 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 



282 THE YOUlNa CHRISTIAN. 

that lie must adopt substantially the same plan, if he wishes 
to make rapid progress m piety. 

I will noY/ proceed to mention, in order to be specific, 
several 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 dov»^n 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 his circumstances in other 
respects. This plan ought not, however, to occupy all the 
hours of the day ; some should be left unappropriated, to 
allow opportunity for 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 aban- 
don it altogether. 

1. Self-examination. I do not mean by this, the mere 
asking yourself some general questions in regard to your 
heart, and the habitual feelings of it. I mean, going over 
minutely the various occurrences of the week, to see what 
you have done, and what motives have actuated you. You 
can attend to this most successfully, by considering the sub- 
ject under several distinct heads. 

(1.) Your ultimate object of pursuit. Thmk what has 
chiefly interested and occupied you durmg the week, and 
what is the final, ultimate object you have in view in what 
you have been doing. Review all the labors that have been 
connected with that pursuit, whatever it may be, and find 
in what respects you have been pursuing your object with a 
wrong spirit. 

(2.) Duties to parents. Consider what has been your 
conduct towards your 'parenU, if you are still connected with 
them. Have you had any difficulty of any kind with them ? 
Have they reproved you once during the week, or been dis- 



THE SABBATH. 283 

satisfied with you in any respect ? If so, what was it for ? 
Tliink 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 mth them, or 
been sullen or ill-humored on account of any of their meas- 
ures ? 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 vrell as v.'hat 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 pleasure by your atten- 
tion, or by your faithful and ready obedience to their com- 
mands ? You can spend half an hour most profitably, not 
in merely answering these individual questions, but in a care- 
ful review of all your conduct towards your parents, gomg 
into minute detail. 

(3.) Companions. l,Miat has been your deportment tow- 
ards your companions ? How many have you made happier 
during the past week ? Think of v/hat good you have done, 
and of the way in w^hich 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 reproach- 
ful, or ill-humored words vrliich you have used, and the spirit 
of heart which you cherished. It v/ill require a long time 
to review thoroughly all those events of a week which 
illustrate the spirit with which you have acted towards 
your companions. 

(4 ) Fidehty in business. You have some employment 
in which you ought to have been diligent and faithful during 
the week. Look over minutely your conduct in this respect ; 
begui with Monday morning and come dovrn to Saturday 
night, and see, by a careful examination of the labors of the 



28-1 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

week, whellier you have Leen " diligent in business, fervent 
in spirit, serving the Lord." 

(5.) Secret sins. This is a most important head of self- 
examination. You have committed secret sins; you have 
cherished feehngs whicli others have not known, or you have 
in secret done wliat you would blush to have exposed to 
view. Explore all this ground thoroughly, and conless and 
forsake such sins. 

I might mention a number of similar points, but it is 
unnecessary, as my object is only to show that self examina- 
tion, to be ellectual, 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 groiuid in 
some such manner 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 back upon the past, and forward to the future, so as to 
take a comprehensive view of your condition and prospects, 
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 immovable stand 
in the duty of secret j^raycr ; let nothing tempt you to neg- 
lect or postpone or curtail it, or pass over the season of 
your communion with God in a hurried and fonnal manner. 
Neglecting the closet is the beginning of backsliding, and he 
end of happiness and peace. 

3. Studying the Bible. In the chapter devoted ex- 
pressly to this subject, I have mentioned a variety of meth- 



THE SABBATH. 285 

ods 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 
eome 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 question 
arising from 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 fatJier inquires mentally, 
as the dinner-hour approaches, " AYha-t 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 
case, will not pass 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 endeavor to bring forward some fact or some 
question at dinner, and then the father may call upon all 
in turn. 



286 THE YOUNa CHUISTIAN. 

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 conversa- 
tion on the Sabbath. Without some such efibrts as I have 
above described, the Christian family, when assembled at 
dinner or tea, must spend the time in silence or frivolous 
remarks, criticisms upon the preacher, or discussions on sub- 
jects which keep those who are conscientious constantly 
uneasy, because they doubt whether the subjects upon 
which they are speakmg are suitable to the sacredness of 
the Lord's day. 

Many persons have no idea of religious conversation, 
excepting a forced and formal exhortation from the master 
of the family, or from a Christian minister. They cannot 
understand how a whole family can be interested, from the 
aged grand-parent dov/n to the youngest child, in a conver- 
sation exactly calculated to promote the objects of the Sab- 
bath. But let such persons try the experiment I have men- 
tioned above, and they will discover their mistake. The 
ways by which a family may be interested by means of 
judicious and ingenious efforts on the part of a parent, or an 
older 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 par- 
liamentary assembly, but for free interchange of opinion. 

5. Public u'orsJiip. It is perfectly astonishing Vv'hat a 
tendency there is among mankind, and even among Chris- 
tians, to throw off the v/hole responsibility of public worship 
upon the mimste?'. The disposition is almost universal. 



THE SABBATH. 287 

Come with me into this church and observe the congrega- 
tion assembled. The minister reads a hymn, and while he 
is reading it, how great a proportion of the hearers are en- 
tirely 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 congregation 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. He begins the delivery of his mes- 
sage, endeavoring to explain to them the principles of duty, or 
to present the considerations which should urge them to it. 
Now let me ask, Avhile this exercise is going forward, upon 
whom does the responsibihty of it chiefly come ? Is it the 
duty of a minister to interest the people, or that of the peo- 
ple 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 inat- 
tentive and listless air, because it is not presented in such a 
manner as to compel you, by the novelty of its illustrations 
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 j^roceed through the day. The boys go on with 
their v/ork, until at length the expected messenger appears. 
He begins to tell them how the land is to be ploughed, or 
in what way the father wishes the seed to be put into 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 ; another sits down on a green bank under a tree, and 
gradually falls into a state of drowsy insensibility ; a third 
looks awav v/ith v^eafii., <39UQte3iance upon the hills and 




THE 
vVASHIM.G 



288 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

mountains around, utterly regardless of the message. The 
boys, consequently, do not learn what their father wishes 
them to do, and do not do it ; and when night conies, and 
they are called to account for the labors of the day, they try 
to justify themselves wdth this preposterous excuse : " Why," 
they say to their father, " the man you sent us was not an 
interesting man, and so we did not pay any attention to his 
message. He had no talent at making his mode of explana- 
tion 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, 
" AYe know we have disobeyed God, and he is sending us 
messengers to communicate to us the ofiers of forgiveness for 
the past and direction for the luture ; 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 
reader, I do urge you to abandon altogether this plan of 
throwing off upon the minister whom Providence has sent 
to you, the responsibility of the interest you take m public 
instruction. It is Tiis duty to deliver his message plainly and 
intelligibly, but it is your duty, most unquestionably, to be 
interested in it. Go to public worship feeling that you have 
something 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 ac- 



THE SABBATH. 289 

tive effort, or yon must incur the guilt of rejecting the mes- 
sage from heaven. The less interesting the preacher is, the 
more active and the more arduous the duty of his hearers. 
They should look him steadily in the face, and listen in 
silence and with deep attention to what he has to say ; and 
feel at all times, that while it is the minister's duty to be 
faithful in delivering his message, it is their most imperious 
duty to take heed how tliey hear. 

There are a great many persons who are very constant 
in their attendance upon public worship, and vrho think 
their motive is respect for religion, and a desire to obey God's 
commands, when in fact they are controlled by other mo- 
tives altogether. I do not mean by this, that they attend 
public worship, and sustain by their mfluence the ordinances 
of religion, through a distinct and dehberate design of merely 
promoting, in some way, their o^vn worldly interest by it. 
Actual, intentional hypocrisy, is a means which few men 
will knowingly adopt to accomplish their purposes. It is 
so evidently mean and base, that even the honorable princi- 
ples 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 prin- 
ciple of action. The great danger is from a h}"pocrisy, or 
something nearly allied to it, v/hich comes in secrecy or dis- 
guise. It is not always an easy thing for us to decide by 
what miotives we are governed in the actions which we 
perform. We are often sv/ayed by inducements, of which, 
without rigid and impartial scrutiny, we are entirely uncon- 
scious ; for there may be one motive of fair and honorable 
appearance, whiich stands out to the view of the individual 
as the director of his actions ; and there may be another of 
far 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 nothing 

V. Chri-:«ian. 13 



290 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

which an unbiassed observation of human nature will not 
everywhere confirm. 

Nov/, 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 Sv>me 
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 ap- 
pearance only which can bring us worldly advantage, we 
shall go no farther than the outward appearance. We may 
rise with God's people in liis 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 lips 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 accomplish- 
ment, and that will be all to which we shall aim. And we 
may listen with apparent 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 
God be the motive which calls a man to the weekly assembly, 
it will carry him farther than a mere compliance with the 
external form. Y/hen, in the season of prayer, recognizing 
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, will ascend in 
devout aspirations to heaven. Contrition for the ofTences 
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- 
ence and the word of God inform him that his efforts will 



THE SABBATH. 291 

be strength spent for naught — and ardent supplications for 
blessings upon his fellow-men, dictated by 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 conveniences 
of time — these will be the emotions which will control the 
heart of the man of sincerity, while the affections of the man 
of form will be grovelling upon the farm, the money, or the 
merchandise. 

The song of praise too, from the one who really worships 
God, w411 not be merely music on the tongue, it will be an 
expression of warm feeling from the heart. The voice of 
adoration and praise will arise from a soul which adores and 
praises, 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 w^orship Mali be lost in vacancy during 
the smging of God's praises, or only interested in the mere 
music of the song. 

And in 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 ; while 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 chiefly 
upon 3'OU. You cannot throw it off upon your minister. 
Examine yourself with reference to the spirit and feelings 



292 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

witli which these duties are performed. They afford 3'oi.i a 
very fine opportunity for close and faithful self-examination ; 
for the sinister motives which, in a greater or less degree, 
undoubtedly exist in your hearts, will show themselves here. 

There is one thing more that I ought to present to tha 
consideration of my readers before closing the chapter on this 
subject. It is this : 

hi keejnng the Sabbath, avoid all a2j2^eara7ice of evil. 
I have endeavored in this discussion to accomplish two ob- 
jects. First, to convince my readers that the mere form in 
which the Sabbath is kept, except so far as 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 design- 
ed in the estabhshment 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 shall 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 conversa- 
tion as to make the spiritual improvement which it is the 
object of the day to secure. But no. We must avoid the 
apj^earance of evil. We must not ^eem 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 
stretches before him. It is a summer evening. The sun is 
just setting, throwing his bright beams over the water, and 
gilding every object upon which it shines. The Christian 
loolts over this scene of beauty, and its expression of calm- 



THE SABBATH. 293 

ness and peace is transferred to his own soul. He/ccZs the 
presence of God in it all, and rejoices in the power and good- 
ness 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 they 
would be if he w^as 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 
ofi^ from the shore, that while rocked by the gentle, dying 
swell of the sea, he may lose himself more completely in the 
absorbing feeling of God's presence, and muse more uninter- 
ruptedly 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 evening walk, 
consider what will be the influence of the example you are 
going to set to others. Will you apjyear, 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 sailmg 
should be among the occupations of holy time ? Will God 
be honored 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 injury, 
through the influence of your example upon others. 



294 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

CHAPTER X. 

TEIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 

" Strangers and pilgrims on the earth." 

I. NATURE OF 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 the life to 
come. In order that all, even the youngest of my readers, 
may understand what is meant by this, I shall illustrate it 
by some familiar examples drawn from the actual business 
of life. 

When a large steam-boat is built with the intention of 
having her employed upon the waters of a great river, she 
must be proved before put to service. Before trial, it is 
somewhat doubtful whether she will succeed. In the first 
place, it is not absolutely certain whether 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 encounter the 
rapids at some narrow passage in the stream, not be able to ' 
force her way against their resistance. 

The engineer therefore resolves to try her in all these 
respects, that her security and her power may be properly 
^yroved before she is intrusted with her valuable cargo of 
human lives. He cautiously builds a fire under her boiler ; 
he watches with eager interest the rising of the steam-gage, 
and scrutinizes every part of the machinery as it gradually 
comes under the control of the tremendous power which he 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 295 

is cautiously applying. With what interest does he ohserve 
the first stroke of the ponderous piston ; and when at length 
the fastenings of the boat are let go, and the motion is com- 
municated to the wheels, and the mighty mass slowly moves 
away from the wharf, how deep and eager an interest does 
he 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 little 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 
machinery. 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 faithful examination into 
all the minutiae of the motion. He scrutinizes the action 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 engine, noAV 
reverses her motion, and again sends the boat forward in her 
course. He discovers, perhaps, some great improvement of 
which she is susceptible, and when he returns to the wharf 
and has extinguished her fire, he orders the necessary 
alterations. 

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 fric- 
tion reduced ; the beams play more smoothly, and the alter- 
ation which he has made produces a more equable motion in 
the shaft, or gives greater efiect to the stroke of the paddles 
upon the water. 

When at length her motion is such as to satisfy him, 



296 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

upon the smooth surface of the river, he turns her course 
towards the rapids, to see how she will sustain a greater 
trial. As he increases her steam, to give her power to 
overcome the new force with which she has to contend, he 
watches her boiler with eager interest, inspects the gage 
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 
greater 'safety. These he executes ; and thus he perhaps 
goes on for many days, or even weeks, trying and examin- 
ing, 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 — trial for the sake 
of imp-ovement. 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, who pour in, 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 con- 
lidence trustmg themselves and their dearest interests to her 
power. See her as she floats 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 not 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 with life, and herself the very symbol of life 
and power, she seems something unreal, which, ere we look 
again, will have vanished 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 unutterable ; and though her strength is equal to 



TRIAL AXD DISCIPLINE. 297 

the united energy- of tv.'o thousand men, she restrains it all. 
She was constructed by genius, and has been tried and im- 
proved by fidelity and skill ; and one man governs and con- 
trols 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 pas- 
sengers who have slept in safety in then* berths, Avith destruc- 
tion 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 ^^ithiu you susceptibihties and 
powers of which you have little present conception, energies 
which are hereafter to operate in producing fulness of enjoy- 
ment or horrors of suffering of which you now but httle con- 
ceive. You are now on trial. God wishes you to prepare 
yourself for safe and happy action. He wishes you to look 
within, to examme 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 life, and then return 
to retirement, to improve what is right and remedy what is 
WTong. Renewed opportunities of moral practice are given 
you, that you may go on from strength to strength until 
every part of that comphcated moral machinery of which 
the human heart -consists, \^ill 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 prohation 
now. You will enter upon active service in another world. 

In order, however, that the reader may understand fully 
the views to be presented m this chapter, I wish to point 
out particularly the difierence between the condition of the 
boat I have described, when she was on trial, and when she 
was afterwards in actual service. While she w^as on trial she 
sailed tliis way and that, merely for the purpose of ascertain- 



298 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

ing her powers and her deficiencies, in order that the former 
might be increased, and the latter remedied. Tlie engineer 
steered her to the rapids, we supposed ; but it was not be- 
cause 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 indented shore, 
penetrating deep into creeks, or sweeping swiftly round pro- 
jecting headlands ; and this, not because he wishes to exam- 
ine that shore, but only to see how his boat will obey her 
helm. Thus he goes on placing her again and again in sit- 
uations of difficulty, for the purpose simply of proving her 
powers, and enabling him to perfect the operation of her 
machinery. Afterwards, when she comes into actual ser- 
vice, 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 
service. A child, as he comes forward into life, is surround- 
ed 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 difficulty, so does God 
arrange the circumstances of childhood and youth in such a 
manner as to bring the individual into various difficulties 
which will try his moral powers, and, by discovering to him 
his own sinfulness and weakness, prepare him to receive 
Christ as his righteousness and strength. 

Moreover, he may learn contentment and submission by 
the thousand disappointments which occur, patience and 
fortitude by his various sufferings, and perseverance by en- 
countering the various obstacles which oppose his progress. 
These difficulties and sufferings and obstacles might all 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 299 

have easily been avoided. God might have so formed the 
liimian mind, and so arranged the circumstances of hfe, that 
every thing should have gone smoothly with us. But he 
designs these things as trials — trials for the sake of our im- 
provement ; and he has filled life with them, from the cradle 
to the grave. 

To obtain a vivid idea of this, let us look at this little 
child. She is just able to walk about the floor of her moth- 
er's parlor, and though her life is full of sources of happi- 
ness, it is full likewise of sources of disappointment and suf- 
fering. A moment since she was delighted with a plaything 
which her mother had given her, but now she has laid it 
aside, and is advancing towards a valuable book which lies 
upon the chair. She is just reaching out her little hand to 
take it, when she is arrested by her mother's well-known 
voice : 

" Mary, Mary 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 efibrt 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 strengthened ; it will be easier for her to yield to pa- 
rental command on the next occasion. 

But see, as she totters along back to her mother, ^e 
trips over her little stool and falls to the floor. The terror 
and pain, though we should only smile at it, are suflicient 
'to overwhelm her entirely. Her mother gently raises her, 



300 THE YOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

tries to soothe her, and soon you can distinctly perceive that 
the child is struggling to repress her emotions. Her sobs 
are gradually restrained, the tears flow less freely, and soon 
the sunshine of a smile lights up her face, and she jumps 
down again to play. This now has been a useful trial ; 
pain and fright have once been conquered, and will have 
less power over her in future. 

But though there is a real and most important benefit 
to be derived from these trials of infancy, the child herself 
cannot understand 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, as 
follows : 

" Mary, I might save you from all these difficulties and 
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 bear the pain patiently, 
it will do you lasting good ; your character will acquire 
firmness and vigor, and you will thus be prepared for the 
duties of future life." 

The child now would not understand all this, but it 
would be true, whether she understood it or not, and the 
jifdicious mother, who knows what is the design of educa- 
tion and the manner in which children are to be trained up 
to future duty, will not be sorry to have her children re- 
peatedly tried. These repeated trials are the very means 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 301 

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 efforts to avoid 
them, and in going into such a family you will find the 
shovel and tongs, perhaps, placed out of the way, so that 
the children cannot touch them, and the mother will not 
dare to bring a plate of cake into the room for fear that 
they should cry for it. Instead of accustoming them to 
trials of this kind, and teaching them obedience and sub- 
mission, she makes a vain effort to remove all occasion for 
the exercise of self-denial. If, perchance, these remarks are 
read by any mother who feels that she is pursumg 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 period, they shall want, which they 
ought not to have, out of the way, 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 I can teach him 
obedience more easily." 

" You never can teach him obedience so easily as when 
he is first able to U7iderstancl a simple commajid, 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 God 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 around us, and teaches us 
by actual trial to resist its calls." 

"I knov/ this is right," you reply; "but sometimes 1 
am busy — I am engaged in important duties, and do not 
wish to be interrupted ; and on such occasions I remove 



302 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

improper playthings out of the reach of my child, because, 
just then, I have not time to teach him a lesson of obe- 
dience." 

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 will imbitter your 
life, and bring down your grey 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 undermine your power, and prevent your ever 
obtaining an ascendency over them, as by accustoming 
them in childhood to understand, that in your endeavors to 
keep them from doing what is wrong, you do not aim at 
strengthening their own moral principle, and accustoming 
them to meet and to resist the ordinary temptations of life, 
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 
arranged 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 cannot go out ; command him not to go, and enforce 
obedience ; if you do any thing to the door at all, throw it 
wide open, and say mildly, " I wiU see whether you will 
disobey." Do not put the book or the paper which you 
wish him not 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 probation and trial, and unless you avail yourself 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 303 

of the opportunities of probation and trial which it presents, 
you lose half the advantages which the Creator had in view 
in arranging 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 
difficulties and obstacles, and sources of slight disappoint- 
ment and suffering, for the very purpose of trying and in- 
creasing our moral strength. And all these things are, or 
may be, sources of enjoyment. They will be sources of 
enjoyment if we take the ri^ht view of them, as I shall 
explain more fully hereafter. God has so arranged it, that 
w^e 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 
strengthened by the trial, if the opportunity is rightly im- 
proved. 

God has therefore made a double provision for the moral 
groAvth of men. First, he has given us instruction in our 
duty in the Bible ; and secondly, he has given us opportu- 
nity to p)ractis,e in the various difficulties and duties of life. 
The Bible is full and complete as a book of directions. 
Human life is full and complete as a field for practice. The 
best parade ground for drilling and disciplining an army 
w^ould not be a smooth and level plain, but an irregular 
region, diversified with hills and plains, where the inexpe- 
rienced army might practise every evolution^ — now passing 
a defile, now ascending an acclivity, noAv constructing and 
crossing a bridge. So human life, 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 manage 
his business when he should be old enough to take charge 
of it. He accordingly gave him a thorough commercial 



304 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

education in school ; but before he received him into his 
partnership, he thought it would be necessary to give him 
some practical knowledge of his future duties. 

"My son," says he to himself, "is now theoretically 
acquainted with all that 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 vessel, and let him take charge of her 
cargo. I will so plan the voyage, that it shall embrace an 
unusual share of difliculty and trial ; for my very design is 
to give him practical knowledge and skill, which come only 
through such a trial." 

He accordingly fits out his ship. He tliinks 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 passage 
to it is short and direct ; and another, because the disposal 
of a cargo there is attended with no difficulty. He at last 
thinks of a voyage whicli will answer his design. The 
passage lies through a stormy sea. K-ocks and quicksands, 
and perhaps pirates, fill it with dangers. The port at whicli 
he will arrive is one distinguished by the intricacy of its 
government regulations. His son is a stranger to the lan- 
guage of the country, 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 com- 
prehend 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 as 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 young man entirely. He would not 



TEIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 305 

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 hoy, and, 
though unseen and unheard, keep constantly 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 calcu- 
lated to give maturity and eihciency to the character, and to 
prepare the 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 voyage, and he goes with 
a cordial desire of making it the means of promoting his 
improvement as far as possible. Instead of being sorry that 
a plan embracing so many difficulties and trials had been 
chosen for him, he rejoices in it. He'certainly would rejoice 
in it, if he had confidence in his father's protection. When 
he comes into the stormy 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 billoAv, 
thinking of his father's presence and confiding in his pro- 
tection, and growing in moral strength and fortitude every 
hour. The gale increases, and the fury of the storm tries 
his nerve to the utmost ; but he does not regret its violence, 
or wish to quiet a single surge. He knows that it is his 
trial, and he rejoices in it ; and when through his increasing 
moral strength he has triumphed over its power, he stands 
contemplating its fury with a spirit quiet and undisturbed. 
At length the wind lulls, the clouds break away, and the 
bright rays of the setting sun beam upon the dripping sails 
and rigdng. The Avaves subside — a steady breeze carries 
the shin forward sraoothlv on her course ; and he who has 



306 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

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, 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 pow- 
ers. When, therefore, the dark, gloomy storm rises upon 
you, and night shuts in, and danger presses, and your heart 
feels itself burdened with a load which it can scarcely sus 
tain, never repine at it. Think how near is your protector. 
Confide in him, and remember that your present voyage is 
one oi trial. 

II. THE USES OF TRIAL. 

I think it must be very evident to all who have read 
what I have already written upon this subject, that it is of 
immense advantage to moral beings, who are to be trained 
up to virtue and to firmness of principle and of character, 
that they should not only receive instruction in duty, but 
that they should be thus put upon trial, to acquire by actual 
experience a firm and steady habit of correct moral action. 
This can, however, be made more clear, if I analyze more 
particularly the effects of such trial upon the heart. 

1 . It enables us to know ourselves. People never know 
their own character till they are tried.. We very often 
severely condemn other persons for doing v/hat, if we had 
been placed in their circumstances, we should have done 
ourselves. "Ye know not what spirit ye are of," said the 
Saviour. 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 subject of ungovernable passion. 
Yes ; trial reveals to us our true character. 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 307 

It brings to light the traits of Christian character which 
would not be understood at all without it. I have a case 
in mind Avhich I will describe, wliich is a very common 
case precisely as I describe it here ; so common, that very 
probably a great many of my readers may consider it as 
their own. 

A Christian mother had an only child whom she ten- 
derly loved. The mother was an influential member of the 
church, and w^as ardently interested in m.aintaining a high 
Christian character, and in studying, faithfully and perse- 
veringly, religious truth. She became much interested in 
the vieAV which the Bible presents of the divine sovereignty ; 
she used to dwell with delight upon the contemplation of 
God's unlimited 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 Avondered that any 
person could find any source of difficulty or embarrassment 
in the scripture representations on this subject. 

But she did not know her heart. Her beloved child be- 
came sick — and she stood anxious and agitated over her 
pillow, very far from showing a cordial willingness that God 
should rule. She was afraid, very much afraid, that her 
child would die. Instead of having that practical behef in 
the divine sovereignty, and that cordial confidence in God, 
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 w^hich was slow, but irresist- 
ible, to the grave, and for wrecks 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 universal power 
of God as a theoretical truth ; she had seen its abstract 
beauty ; she thought she rejoiced in God's superintending 
power, but it was only Avhile all went well wdth her : as 



308 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

soon as God began to exercise that power whicli she had so 
cordially acknowledged and rejoiced in, in a v/ay 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 feelings in regard to the absolute and unbounded author- 
ity of God. Now, there is a great deal. of such acquiescence 
in God's dominion 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 proving fully the character and operation of her ma- 
chinery. Though he had himself actually superintended the 
construction of every part of the work, he could not fully 
know the character and the power of the machine until he 
had tried it. While the experiment was in progress, he Avas 
watching every movement with a most scrutinizing eye ; 
he discovered limits, or deficiencies, or imperfections, which 
nothhig but actual trial could have revealed. 

It is on exactly the same principle that discipline and 
trial is useful, 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 
aliected by it. We must notice every imperfection and every 
deficiency which the trial brings to our view. 

2. Discipline and trial arc tlie means of imiyrovement. 
Besides giving us an insight into our characters, they will, if 
properly improved, enable us to advance in the attainment 
of every excellence. I ought however, perhaps, to say they 
may he made the means of improvement, rather than that 
they actually will be so. The steam-boat was in a better 
condition after the first day's trial than before ; but it was 
because the engineer was attentive and watchful, doing his 
utmost to avail himself of every opportunity to increase the 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 309 

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 the lesson, though it 
may seem simple to us, is difficult to him. He knows what 
a difficult and perplexing task is before him, and he would, 
perhaps, under ordinary circum.stances, shrink from it. But 
he is a Christian. He has asked forgiveness for his past sins 
in the name of Jesus Christ, and is endeavoring to live in 
Buch a manner as to please his Father above. He knows 
that God might easily have formed his mind so that mathe- 
matical 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 eilort to learn 
necessarily brings. 

He says therefore to himself, as he walks alongs 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 m.oral lesson together. I will 
try to do it. I Avill begin my vvork looking to God 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 per- 
severe 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 diffi- 
culties that now try him, a greater self-command than he 
ever before possessed. In fact he takes a strong interest in 
the very difficulty, because he is interested in the moral ex- 
periment which it enables him to make. 

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 v/hich a young person can 
so effectually acquire a patient and persevering spirit, as by 



310 THE YOUNG CPIRISTIAN. 

meeting real difficulties with such a state of mind as I have 
described. They Avho have been trained in the hard school 
of difficulty and trial, almost always possess a firmness of 
character which it is vain to look for elsewhere. There 
must, however, be effort on the part of the individual to 
improve under the trial, or he will grow worse instead of 
better by it. Learning long division in schools is, perhaps, 
as often a means of promoting an impatient and fretful spirit 
as the contrary. It is the state of heart on the part of the 
individual that determines which effect is to be the result. 
Some men, by the misfortunes and crosses of hfe, are made 
misanthropes ; others, through the same disappointments 
and suherings, are, by the grace of God, made humble and 
happy Christians, with feelings kindly disposed towards their 
fellow-men, and calmly submissive towards God. 

The object, then, wliich the Creator had in view in ar- 
ranging the circumstances of probation and discipline in 
which we are placed, is two-fold : that we may U7iderstand, 
and that we may imjyrove our characters. We are to learn 
different lessons from the different circumstances and situa- 
tions in which we are placed, but we are to learn some lesson 
from all. God might easily have so formed the earth, and so 
arranged our connection with it, as to save us all the vicissi- 
tudes 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 opportunities to call into active 
exercise every Christian grace. The future world is the home 
for which we are intended, and we are placed on trial here, 
that we may prepare for it ; and the suffering and sorrow wliich 
we experience on the way are small evils, compared to the glo- 
rious results wliich we may hope for there. But I must come 
to the practical directions which I intended to present. 

1. Consider every thing that befalls you as coming in the 
providence of God, and intended as a part of the system of 
discipline and trial through which you are to pass. This 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 311 

will help you to bear every thing patiently. An irreligious 
man is on a journey requiring special haste, and finds him- 
self delayed by bad travelling or stormy weather, until a 
steam-boat, which he had intended to take, 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 wor- 
rying 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 his business must suffer by tliB 
delay. The Christian, on the other hand, hears the intelli- 
gence 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 ordered 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 suflerings of 
life as coming from God, and as intended to try them, but 
they fret and vex themselves uncT3asingly, ui regard to the 
little difficulties which, in the ordinary walks of life, they 
have to encounter — especially in what is connected with the 
misconduct 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 m some places, and loosened in oth- 
ers ; the binding is defaced, and the back is broken. jNTow 
you ought not to stand looking at your spoiled volume, la- 
menting again and again the misfortune, and making your- 
self miserable for hours by your fretfulness and displeasure 
against the individual who was its cause. He was indeed 
to blame, but if you did your duty ui lending the book, as 
without doubt you did, you are in no sense responsible, and 
you do wrong to make yourself miserable about it. Tho 
occurrence comes to you in the providence of God, and is 



312 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

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 volume crowd- 
ed with prints, adorned with gilded binding, and preserved 
in a locked cabinet for you for twenty years. 

So with loss of every kind, whether it comes in the form 
of a broken piece of china or a counterfeit ten-dollar bill, or 
the loss of your whole property by the misfortunes of a part- 
ner 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 providence of God, and is intended as a 
trial. If you are really interested in what ought to be the 
great business of life, your growth in grace, you will find 
that such trials will help you to understand your own heart, 
and to train it up to a proper action under the government 
of God, more than any thing besides. 

2. Make it your aim to be continually learning the les- 
sons which God by these various trials is teaching you. 
Every day is a day of discipline and trial. Ask yourself 
every night, then, " What progress have I made to-day ?" 
Suppose the engineer, in the case of the steam-boat on trial, 
to which I have several times alluded, had neglected alto- 
gether the operation of the machinery when his boat was 
fu'st put to the test. Suppose that instead of examining 
minutely and carefully the structure and the action of the 
parts, with a view to removing difficulties, rectifying defects, 
and supplying deficiencies, he had been seated quietly upon 
the deck enjoying the sail. He might liave been gazing at 
the scenery of the shore, or in vanity and self-complacency 
enjoying the admiration which he imagined those who stood 
upon the v/harf were feeling for the degree of success which 



TRIAL A^D DISCIPLINE.- 313 

he liad attained. While he is thus neglecting his duty, evils 
without number, and fraught Avith incalculable consequences, 
are working below. The defects in his machinery are not 
discovered and not remedied ; its weaknesses remain unob- 
served and mirepaired ; and if at last there should be in- 
trusted to his care valuable property, nothing can reason- 
ably 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 m the objects of interest which sur- 
round them as they pass on through life, nor to be satisfied 
with present attainments of any kind, but to consider them- 
selves as sailing now in troubled waters for the purpose of 
trial and improvement ; to watch themselves with constant 
self-examination, and with honest efforts to rectify what is 
wrong and to supply what is deficient. He requires them 
to consider all the circumstances and occurrences of life as 
coming from him, and as arranged with express reference to 
the attainment of these objects. Notv/ithstanding all this, 
however, they neglect the duty altogether. They do not 
watch themselves. They do not habitually and practically 
regard the events of life as means to enable them to under- 
stand their hearts, to strengthen, by constant exercise, moral 
principle, and to grow in grace. Instead of this, they are 
engaged in simply endeavoring to secure as much present 
good as they can ; and they see no good in any trial, and get 
no good from it. "When they are sick, they spend the time 
in longing to get well. When they are disaj)pointed, they 
make themselves miserable by useless lamentations. Losses 
bring endless regrets, and injuries impatience and anger, and 
thus 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. 

y. Christian. " 14 



314 , THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

I have now completed what I intended to present on the 
subject of probation ; and I thhik that all my readers will 
easily see, that by taking such a view cf life as tliis subject 
presents to us, the whole aspect of our residence in this 
v/orld is at once changed. If you really feel what I have 
been endeavoring to explain, you will regard yourselves as 
strangers and pilgrims here, looking continually forward to 
another country as your home. The thousand trials and 
troubles of life will lose half their weight by your regarding 
them in their true light, that is, as means of moral disci- 
pline and improvement. You must, however, make a con- 
stant effort to do this. Make it a part of your daily self- 
examination not only to ascertain what is the state of your 
heart at the lime of retirement, but to reviev/ the incidents 
of the day, and to see how they have operated upon you 
as means of moral discipline. See what traits of character 
those incidents have brought to your view, and what effect 
they have had in maldng you worse or better than you were 
in the morning. The little events and circumstances of 
every day must have a very important influence of one kind 
or of the other. If you neglect this influence, it v/ill all go 
wrong. If you attend to it, it may go well and happily 
with you wherever you may be. 



PEHSONAL lirPpLOVEHENT. 315 



CHAPTER XI. 

PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 

" The path of the just is as the shining light, that shinetn more and more unto 
the perfect day."' 

The chapters which the reader has just perused are on 
subjects connected with the improvement of the character : 
that is, they are upon the means by which this improvement 
is to be promoted. Studying the Bible, keeping the Sabbath, 
and exposure to disciplme, 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 cliaracter 
itself 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 progres's in all that is good ? 
If so, look now with me a little while into 3^our 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 liave 
described as to gain the fullest benefit from them. As I 
think that every young Christian ougkt most assiduously to 
cultivate his moral, and also his intellectual powers, I shall 
discuss in order both these points. 

I. MOS.AL IIvIPROVEIIENT. 

Every young Christian will find, however sincerely and 
ardently he may have given up his heart to God and com- 
menced a life of piety, that a vast number oi faults remain 
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 effcrt should be to correct them. 



816 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAIN. 

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 Avhat measures they should adopt to 
unprove 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 occur- 
rence, "You are acting in a very foolish manner. You 
show a great deal of vanity and self-conceit by such con- 
duct ; 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-irri- 
tated tone, dismisses and forgets the subject. The boy re- 
frains, 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 to 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 
a.brupt reproof^ — and accordingly forms a plan for a protract- 
ed moral discipline in the case, and then seeks a favorable 
opportunity to execute it. 

One day, after the father has been granting some un- 
usual indulgence, and they have spent the day happily 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 317 

together in some plan of enjoyment, and are riding home 
slowly in a pleasant summer evening, he thus addresses 
Ills son : 

" Well, Samuel, you have heen a good boy, and we have 
had a pleasant time. Now, I am going to give you some- 
thing to do, which, if you do it right, M'ill wind up the day 
very pleasantly." 

" What is it ?" says Samuel. 

" I am not certain that it wall please you, but you may 
do as you choose about undertaking it. It wdll not be pleas- 
ant at first ; the enjoyment will come afterwards." 

Samuel. " But what is it, father ? I think I shall lik& 
to do it." 

Father. " Do you think you have any faults, Samuel?" 

Samuel. " Yes, sir ; I know I have a great many." 

Father. " Yes, you have ; and all boys have. Soma 
wish to correct them, and others do not. Nov/, I have sup- 
posed that you do wdsh to correct them, and I had thought 
of describing to you one of your faults, and then telling you 
of a particular thing wdiich you can do wdiich ^y\\\ help you 
to correct it. But then it will not be very pleasant for you 
to sit here and have me find fault wdth you, and mention a 
number of instances in which you have done wrong, and 
particularize all the little circumstances which increased the 
guilt ; this, I say, will not be very pleasant, even though 
you Imow that my design is not to blam.e you, but to help 
you improve. But if you undertake it, and after a little 
while find that you are really improving, then you will feel 
liappier for the effort. 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 
efficient 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 follows : 



318 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

" 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 sh.ould 
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 only in a very slight 
degree, or when you obtrude some trifling honor upon the 
notice of strangers for the sake of getting their admiration, 
you exhibit vanity. Now, did you know that you had this 
fault?" 

Samuel. " I do not know that I have thought of it par- 
ticularly. I suppose though that 1 have it." 

Father. " Your having the fault now need not discour- 
age you, 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 have, when I was as young. Do you think now, that 
you can recollect any cases in which you have shown 
vanity ?" 

Samuel. *' I don't know ; perhaps I could if I should 
have a little time." 

Father. " AYell, 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 
prefer it, you may write the list and show it to me." 

Nov/, if the subject is taken up in this spirit, most boys 
who had been treated on these principles before, would 
receive the communication with pleasure, and would engage 
with interest in the v/ork 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 
recall them to mmd. His list might be perhaps something 
as fellows : 



PERSONAL IMPROYEilENT. 319 

" Dear Father — I have made out a list of the times in 
which I was vain, and I now send it to j'ou. 

"1. I brought out my writing-book a few evenings since, 
when some company was here, in hopes they would ask to 
see it. 

"2. I said yesterday at table, that there was something 
iu the lesson whicl> none of the boj's could recite until it 
came to me, and I recited it. 

"3.1 pretended to talk Latin with George when walk- 
ing, thinking that you and the other gentlemen would over- 
hear it. 

" I 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 I wish to correct it. 
" Your dutiful son, 



Now, let me ask every one of my readers who has any 
knowledge of human nature, whether, even if the effort of 
the father to correct this fault should stop here, a most pow- 
erful blow would not have been struck. Do you think that 
a boy can make such a self-examination, and confess freely 
his faults in this manner, without maldn^ a real progress in 
forsaking them ? Can he as easily, after this, attempt to 
display his accomplishments, or talk of hns exploits ? 

The process ought not to stop here, but this is the first 
step ; co?tfession — full, free, and particular confession. In 
the first chapter, I described the power of confession to restore 
peace of mind after 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, its tendency to promote reformation. 
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 
form.ed, is to confess it fully and freely. That single act 
will do more to give your fault its death-blow, than jJlm.ost 



320 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

any thing else you can do. If you are a child, you can de- 
rive great assistance from confessing to your parents. If you 
shrink 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 ; hut above all, be sure to confess to God ; lay the 
whole case before him in full detail. I cannot press upon 
you too fully the necessity of being distinct and definite, and 
going into fidl detail, in these confessions. 

There is one very erroneous impression which young 
persons receive from hearing puMic prayer. It is always, 
as it ought to be, general in its language, both of confession 
and request. Take, for instance, the following language of 
the prayer-book of the Protestant Episcopal church, so admi- 
rably adapted to its purpose : 

" We have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost 
sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires 
of our own hearts. We have oiiended against thy holy lav/s. 
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 Sav- 
iour's model of prayer : " Forgive us our debts, as we forgive 
those who are indebted to us." Public prayer ought to be 
somewhat general in its expressions, for it is the united voice 
often of thousands, and should express acknowledgments and 
petitions which are common to them all. 

But the mistake that multitudes fall into is, that when 
they begin to pray themselves, they take public prayer as 
the model for secret supplication ; and they spend their sea- 
son of retirement in rejpeating the sa77ie general su]?2^lications 
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 
minutely into its own particular and private case. There is 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 321 

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 oi briiiging forward the individual 
case in all its ^particularity and detail, Avhich 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 Avho join in it. The language must necessa- 
rily, therefore, be general. But it is always the intention of 
those who use it, that minute detail should be given in pri- 
vate supplications. In the prayers of the Episcopal church, 
for example, the evening prayer for families is printed thus : 

" We come before thee in an humble sense 
-JhoSasmlkJ^ °^ ^^^' unworthuiess, acknowledging our mani- 
short pause, that fold trausgrcssions of thy righteous laws.^ But 
confess the sins 0, gracious Father, who desirest not the death 
and fallings of ^^ ^ sinner, look upon us, we beseech thee, in 

that day." . 

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 m'uch more when the individual has 
retired alone, for the very purpose of bringing forward the 
peculiar circumstances of his own case. 

This is the only way to make secret prayer interesting, 
as well as profitable. A child, just before retiring to rest, 
attempts to pray. He uses substautially the expressions 
which he has heard in the public service : "I acknowledge 
that I am a great sinner. I have done this day many things 
which are wrong ; I have neglected many duties, and broken 
many of thy commands." Now, how easy is it for a person 
to say all this with apparent fei-vor, and yet have present to 
his mind while saying it no one act in which he really feels 
that he has done Avrong, and consequently no distinct riiental 

14# 



322 THE YOUNa CHUISTIAK. 

feeling that lie is guilty. Our confessions, half of the time, 
amount to nothing more than a general acknowledgment of 
the doctrine of human depravity. " I humbly confess that I 
have been a great sinner this day," says a Christian at his 
evening prayer ; and w^hile he says it, the real state of his 
mind is, "I suppose I must have been so ; all men are sin- 
ners, 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 easily and how soon we become 
habituated to the general language of confession so as to use 
it 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 the blame upon his brother — tlwre he will 
say he did not know what else to do — and in another respect 
he will say that he tried to do as well as he could. And yet, 
after he has finished all this, he will say gravely, " But I do 
not pretend to excuse myself I know I have done wrong." 
I have had such cases occur continually in the management 
of the yomig. 

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 sins you 
wish to avoid in future. Before I go on, however, I wish to 
say one thing in regard to the effect of going into minute 
detail in prayer. It is the only way to make prayer inter- 
esting. "When you attempt to pray at night, with a mind 
wearied and exhausted with the labors of the day, you find 
your thoughts wandering. No complaint is more common 
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 



PERSONAL IMPHOYEMENT. 323 

wliicli seems to imply their want of interest in spiritual 
things. Now the remedy, in nine cases out of ten, is, coming 
to particulars in your prayers. Have no long formal exor- 
diums. Abandon the common phrases of general confession 
and request, and come at once to the particular circum- 
stances and minute wants and trials of the day. Describe 
not only particular faults, but all the minute attending cir- 
cumstances. Feel that you are alone ; that the restraints of 
publicity are removed from you; that j'ou may safely aban- 
don 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 with your great Protector as a 
man converses with his friend ; and remember, that if you 
fasten upon one word which you have spoken Avitli an im- 
proper spirit, and confess your guilt in that one sin, mention- 
ing all the circumstances which attended it, 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 depravity that creed, or catechism, 
or system of theology ever gave. 

But to return to the modes of correcting faults. If your 
fault is one which long habit has riveted very closely upon 
you, I would recommend that you confess it in writing ; it 
?s more distinct, and what you put upon paper you impress 
very strongly upon your mand. Suppose when evening 
comes, in reflecting upon the events of the day, you remem- 
ber an act of unkindness to a younger brother. IsToav, 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 colors. Express your sorroAV, if you feel 
any, and express just as much as you feel. Be honest. Use 
no cant phrase 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 



324 THE YOUXa CHRISTIAN. 

fire the vivid impression of your guilt which this mode of 
confession will produce. Or you may, if you prefer, preserve 
it for a time, that you may read it again, and renew the 
impression before you destroy it. But it Avill 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 preserving the 
record, without being secretly influenced by the probability 
that the description will sooner or later be seen. 

But I must pass to the second step in the progress of 
removing a fault. It is watclifulness. 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 time, have 
thought of many more instances, but you would not have 
thought of all ; a great many would have escaped your 
notice. You show vanity many times when you 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 cultivate a delicate 
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 to watch yourself Notice your con- 
duct for two days, and whenever you detect yourself display- 
ing vanity on any occasion, go and make a memorandum of 
it. You need not write a full 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 meantime I will observe you, and if I notice any 



PERSONAL IMPROYEilENT. 325 

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 remov- 
ing them. You may, however, do just as you please about 
adopting this plan. If you adopt it, send your list to me ; ii 
you do not, you need not say any thing about it. 
" Your affectionate parent, 



Now I wish my young readers to understand, that 
though I have described fully this case, partly with a design 
to show to parents a good way to lead their children to vir- 
tue, yet my mam design is to explain to the young a course 
which they may take themselves immediately to correct 
theu' faults. I am in hopes that many a one who reads 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 talk- 
ative ; her friends have often reproved her, but she has never 
made any real systematic effort to reform. Another is indo- 
lent — often neglecting known duties and wastmg time. Thus 
every young .person is sure to have some evil habit, from 
which, though he may be a Christian, he is not fully freed. 
Now just try my prescription. Take the two steps which I 
have described : confess 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 can- 
not do this, with a proper spirit of dependence on God and 
accountability to him, without breaking the chains of any 
fault or any habit which may now be dommeering over you. 



326 THE YuUNG CHRISTIAN. 

The efficacy of such moral treatment in these moral diseases 
is far more certain and powerful than that of any cordial in 
restoring the fainting powers. I hope, therefore, that every 
young person who reads this wdll not merely express a cool 
approbation of these plans, but will resolutely set to work 
in examining his character, and in trying these methods of 
altering and 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 v/ay ?" They can, but they seldom will. 
I recommend it exclusively to the young, not because it is 
less efficacious with others, but because others v/ill not cor- 
dially try it. The difficulty which prevents middle-aged 
persons going on as rapidly as the young in improvement of 
every kind, is, that 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 for a man, if the same efforts were made. 
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 improve ; the man is solitary in his res- 
olutions and unaided in his efforts. A child is willing to do 
any thing. Confession is not so humiliating to it ; keeping 
a catalogue of its sins is not so shrunk from. If the man of 
fifty is willing 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 read 
this book, but who are beyond the age for which it is spe- 
cially intended, that we all have faults which we ought to 
discover and attempt to mend. 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, 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 327 

taking some such thorough-going course as I have described, 
how rapidly we should at once rise in usefulness and happi- 
ness. Instead of this, however, we listen to moral and relig- 
ious instruction from the pulpit, to admire the form of it? 
expression, or perhaps to fix the general principles in our 
hearts ; hut the business of explormg thoroughly our own 
characters to ascertaui their real condition, and going ear- 
nestly to v/ork upon all the detail of actual and minute 
repair — pulling down m this place, building up in that, and 
altering in the other — ah, this is a business to which, in 
mature life, we pay but little attention. 

But I must go on vAth. 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 practi- 
cally Y/hat 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, namely, to avoid all great temptations, and to 
meet those daily occurring with a determination, by God's 
blessing, to conquer them. 

A boy knows, I vv^ill imagine, that he has an irritahle 
spirit ; he wishes to cure liimself of it. I will suppose that 
he has taken the two steps I have already described, and 
now as the mommg 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. 

Boy. " I have made a great many resolutions, and I 
am really desirous of not becoming angry and impatient to- 
day. But I always do, and I am afraid I ahvays shall." 

Friend. " Do you always ? Do you get angry every 
day?'' 

Boy. " I do almost always ; whenever any thing hap- 
pens to vex me." 

Friend. "What are the most common things that 
happen to vex you ?" 



328^ THE YOUNG CHRISTIAK. 

" Why, I almost always get angry playing marbles, 
George doesn't play fair, and I get angry with him, and 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. 
1 know you like to play, but if you find it affords too great 
a temptation for you to resist, you must abandon it, or you 
will not cure yourself of your fault. What other temptii- 
tions do you have ?" 

" Why, I get put out with my sums at school." 

" Get put out with your sums I What do you mean by 
that?" 

" Why, I get impatient and vexed because I cannot do 
them, and then I get angry with them." 

" What, with the sums ?" 

" Yes ; w^ith the sums, and the book, and the slate, and 
every thing else ; I know it is very foolish and wicked." 

"Well, now 1 advise you to take your slate and pencil 
to-day, and find some difiicult sum, such as you have often 
been angry with, and sit down calmly to work, and see if 
you cannot go through it, and yet not feel vexed and angry 
should you fail of doing it aright. Think before you begin, 
how sad it is for you to be under the control of wicked pas- 
sions, and ask God to help you, and then go on expecting 
to find difficulty, and endeavoring to meet it with a calm, 
and patient spirit. If you succeed in this, you will really 
improve while you do it. By gaining one victory over your- 
self you will make another more easy. 

" Which do you think is the greatest temptation for you, 
to play marbles or to do sums ?" 

" Why, Tthink playing marbles, because the boys don't 
play fair." 

' ' Well ; now I wish you to practise the easiest lesson 
first. Conquer yourself in your arithmetical temptation 



PEUSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 329 

first, and then perhaps 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. But 
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 Avhat sacrifice ; 
and though you ought not to seek the trial of your strength, 
yet where Providence calls you to meet it, go forward to 
the efibrt 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 an exposure which does not overpower it. 

I have however spoken more fully on this subject in the 
chapter on discipline and trial, where the genera,! eflect of 
such discipline as we have here to pass through was pointed 
out. I have here only alluded to it again, to show how 
important an auxiliary it is in the correction of particular 
faults. 

But I must pass to the consideration of another part of 
my subject, for the correction of absolute faults of character 
is by no means the only, or even the most important object 
of attention in Christian progress. The spirit of piety, 
which is the mainspring of all these efibrts for the improve- 
ment of the character, is to be directly cultivated. The 
command, "grow in grace," seems to refer to this progress 
in the spirit of j^i^ty itself. The correction of external 
faults, and the improvement of the character in all those 
aspects in which intercourse between man and man is con- 
cerned, will result from it. But it is itself something dif- 
ferent from these external changes. To grow in grace, is 



330 THE YOUNG- CHUISTIAN. 

to have the heart itself so changed that sin shall become 
more and more hateful, the prom.otion of the general happi- 
ness an increasing object of interest and desire, the soul 
more and more closely united to God, so as to receive all 
its happiness from him. 

This now is a change in the affections of the heart. 
Improvement in conduct will result from it, but it is in itself 
essentially different from right conduct. It is ih^ fountain 
from which good actions are the streams. I wish therefore 
that every one of my readers would nov/ turn his attention 
to this subject, and inquire with me, by what means he 
may grov/ most rapidly in attachment to the Saviour, and 
in hatred of sin. A very unwise and ineffectual kind of 
effort is often 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. 

To illustrate the unavailing efforts which are sometimes 
made to awaken in the heart a deeper and deeper interest 
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 knov/s that she is a wan- 
derer 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. IN'ow, 
what does she do to remedy this difficulty ? Why, v/hen 
the week is passed, and her hour of prayer on the Sabbath 
has arrived, she thinks a little of her cold and wayv/ard 
condition, and tries, by direct effort, to arouse in her heart 
i'eelings 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 



PERSONAL IMPROYEMENT. 331 

will have, for an hour, a weary and melancholy struggle— 
the Sabbath will pass away, rendered gloomy by her con- 
dition and her _reflections — and Monday mornmg will come 
with its worldly cares and enjoyments to drift her still 
further a\^'^y 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 solemnly 
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 returnless distance from God, is to strive a little, m.orn- 
ing and evening, at his short period of secret devotion, to 
feel 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 
strives to bring his heart to exercise more. He is trying to 
control his affections by direct effort — --and he probably fails. 
He is striving m 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 faint 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, v/as 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 
progress himself in piety before he endeavored to do any 
good to others ; he was accordingly attempting to make this 
progress ; he struggled Avith his own heart, to awaken 



332 THE YOu:N^a christian. 

stronger love and deeper penitence there, but it was a sad 
and almost fruitless struggle ; lie became dejected and 
desponding ; he thought his heart was still cold and hard- 
ened in sin, and that religious feeling would not come at his 
bidding ; and he continued for a long time unhaj)py himself 
and useless 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 one 
but the mere theorist will say this. A benevolent man, 
during an inclement season, sends fuel to a destitute and 
suffering family, and perhaps goes himself to visit and to 
cheer the sick one there. Does not he take a great pleas- 
ure in thus relieving misery, and is not this benevolent feel- 
ing ■ praiseworthy ? And yet it is not under his direct con- 
trol, he cannot possibly help taking pleasure in relieving 
suffering. Suppose I w^ere to say to him, " Sir, just to try 
a philosophical experiment, will you now alter your heart, 
so as to be glad to know that people are suffering. I will 
tell you the facts about a child that 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 iu 
that cruel suffering?" How absurd would this be. The 
man oiiust he pained to hear of sufferings which 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 Avhich was at first coldness has become 
dislike ; and now they whom God has placed so near to- 
gether are satisfied to be sundered in heart. Suppose the 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 333 

parent were to say to them, " I know you can love each 
other, and you ought to love each other, and I command 
you immediately to do it." They may fear parental dis- 
pleasure — 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, can hardly 
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 intelligent 
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 difference 
between a man's freedom of feeling and his freedom of act- 
ing. A man may be induced to act by a great variety of 
means — a motive of any kind, if strong enough, will be suf- 
ficient. 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 m a great many ways to obtain his object. 
He may command him to do it, and threaten punishment if 
he disobeys ; he may try to hire him to do it ; he may show 
the sailor that his little son has fallen overboard, and thus 
induce the parent to risk his life that he may save that of 
his child. He may thus in various ways appeal to A^ery dif- 
ferent feelings of the human heart — love of money, fear, or 
parental affection — and if by either of these, the volition, as 
metaphysicians term it, that is, the determination, can be 
formed, the man goes overboard in a moment. He can do 
any thing which, from any motive Avhatever, he resolves 
to do. 



334 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Ill regard, however, to the feelings of the heart, it is far 
different. Though man is equally a free agent in regard to 
these, it is in quite a difierent way ; that is, the feelings of 
the heart are not to he managed and controlled by simple 
determinations, as the external conduct may he. Suppose, 
for instance, the captain washed that sailor to be grateful for 
some favor he had received, and of which he had been en- 
tirely regardless ; and suppose he should command him to 
be grateful, and threaten him with some punishment if he 
should refuse ; or suppose he should endeavor to hire him to 
be grateful, or should try to persuade him to be thankful for 
past favors in order to get more. It would be absurd. 
Gratitude, like any other feeling of the heart, though it is of 
a moral nature, and though man is perfectly free in exer- 
cising it, wdll not always come whenever one determines to 
bring it. The external conduct is thus controlled by the 
determinations of the mind, on whatever motives those de- 
terminations may be founded ; but the feelings and affections 
of the heart are under no such direct control. 

There is certainly, for all practical purposes, a great dis- 
tinction between the heart and the conduct — between the 
'inoral condition of the soul and those specific acts which 
arise from it. Tv/o children, a dutiful and a disobedient one, 
are walking together in a beautiful garden, and suddenly the 
gardener tells them that their father does not wish them to 
walk there. Now, how different will be the effect which 
this annunciation wdll make upon them. The one will im- 
mediately obey, leaving with alacrity the place which his 
father did not wish him to pass. The other will linger and 
make excuses, or perhaps altogether disobey. Just before 
they received the communication they v/ere perhaps not 
thinking of their father at all ; but though their minds were 
acting on other subjects, they possessed distinct and opposite 
characters as sons — characters which rendered it probable 
that one would comply with his father's wishes as soon as 



PERSONAL niPPtOVEMENT. ^ 335 

those wishes should be known, and that the other would 
not. So hi all other cases ; a dishonest man is dishonest in 
character when he is not actually stealing, and a humble 
and devoted Christian will have his heart m a right state 
even when he is entirely engrossed in some intellectual pur- 
suit, 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, that is, which is blamevi'orthy or praiseworthy, 
may not be shown to be specific, voluntary acts of the moral 
being. Into tliis question I do not intend to enter at all; 
for if what is commonly called character, m contradistinc- 
tion from conduct, may be resolved into voluntary acts, it is 
certamly to be done only by a nice metaphysical analysis, 
which common Christians cannot be expected to follov/. 

To illustrate the nature of tliis subject, that is, the dis- 
tinction, /br all practical pitrposes, between character and 
conduct, I must give the following narrative, which I take 
from Hume, with some alterations of form to make it more 
intelhgible in this connection. 

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 kmg had left 
several children, who were the proper heirs to the crown. 
They were however young, and Hichard 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 in- 
fluential friends to death, and thus usurping the thi'one. 

One of the most powerful and faithful friends of the 
young princes v/as Lord Hastings, and the following is the 
account Avhich Hume gives of the manner in which he ^^■as 
murdered by Hichard. 

" The duke of Gloucester, knovring the importance of 



336 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

gaining Lord Hastings, sounded at a distance his sentiments 
by means of a lawyer who lived in great intimacy with that 
nobleman ; but found liim impregnable in his allegiance and 
fidelity to the children of Edward, who had ever honored 
him with his friendship. He saw, therefore, that there were 
no longer any measures to be kept with him ; and he deter- 
mined to ruin utterly the man whom he despaired of engag- 
ing to concur in his usurpation. Accordingly, 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 commit- 
ting the most bloody and treacherous murders with the 
utmost coolness and indifierence. On taking his place at 
the council-table, he appeared in the easiest and most jovial 
humor imaginable ; he seemed to indulge himself in famihar 
conversation with the counsellors before they should enter 
on business ; and having paid some compliments to one of 
them on the good and early strawberries which he raised in 
his garden, he begged the favor of having a dish of them. A 
servant was immediately despatched to bring them to him. 
Uichard then left the council, as if called away by some 
other business ; but soon after returning, with an angry and 
inflamed countenance he asked them, 

" 'What punishment 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 ?' Hast- 
ings 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 tiieir incantations and witchcraft.' As he said this, 
he laid bare his arm. all shrivelled and decayed ; but the 
counsellors, who knew that this infirmity had attended him 
from his birth, looked on each other with amazement ; Lord 
Hastings began to be alarmed. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 337 

" * Certainly, my lord,' said lie, ' if tliey 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 
1 will not dine before your head be brought me.' 

" He struck the table with his hand; armed men rushed 
in at the signal ; the counsellors were thrown into the ut- 
most consternation ; and one of the guards, as if by accident 
or a mistake, aimed a blow with a pole-axe at one of the 
lords named Stanley, who, aware of the danger, slunk under 
the table ; and though he saved his life, received a severe 
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 court 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 sudden execu- 
tion 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 ordered 
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 employed 

Y. Christisn. ' 1 5 



338 THE YOUNQ CHRISTIAN. 

three ruffians, wliose names were Slater, Dighton, and For- 
rest, who came m 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 shoM^ed the dead bodies to Tyrrel, that he might 
assure Richard that they were no more. The ambitious 
and cruel duke became, by these means, E-ichard III. king 
of England. 

Now, in reviewing this story — and a hundred others 
might have easily been found which would have answered 
the purposes of this illustration just as well — we see that 
the guilt which it discloses may be easily analyzed into 
three distinct portions. 

1 . The external acts. I mean, the rushing in of armed 
men at the table — the wounding of Lord Stanley — ^the be- 
heading of Lord Hastings — the reading of the false procla- 
mation — 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 himself, directly, 
any thing to do with them. It may be difficult to find, in 
the whole story, any one external act which Richard did 
which was wrong. 

2. The internal acts or determinations of mind. That 
is, the 'plans which Richard formed and the wicked resolu- 
tions 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 mur- 
dered was an act of his mind. It was sava.ge and abomina- 
ble in the extreme ; but what I wish to have particularly 
noticed in it is, that it was a voluntary act. He deliberated 
about it, and then he voluntarily resolved upon it. His 



PERSONAL nrPEOYElIENT. 339 

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 
external deeds of violence to the hands of others. 

3. The ambitions and cruel heart ivhich 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. Another man, when hesitating whether to murder 
two innocent boys, m order to prepare a way for himself to 
a throne, would have found 2:)rinciples of compassion and of 
justice coming up, he knows not how or v/hither, but still 
coming up to arrest liis hand. E^ichard 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 mental acts, that is, came to those wicked determina- 
tions 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 im- 
portance, that this cruel and ambitious disposition, which 
was the origin of all his wicked plans, is not voluntary in 
the same sense as the plans themselves are. In regard to 
his positive determinations to have the children murdered, 
for example, he deliberated, 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 will do this, or I will stop that. I will have this 
man killed to-day, or I will banish that man." But who 
imagines that, every morning, he considered and decided 
whether he should be virtuous or vicious that day in heart ? 



340 THE YOUNCt christiait. 

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 san- 
guinary 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 tmques- 
tionably was, by what specific plans he should gratify the im 
pulses of his wicked heart. He determined upon these 'plam, 
but he did not determme upon the imipiihes. He would 
sometimes resolve to plan the destruction of an enemy, or 
to take certain steps which should lead him to the throne ; 
but he never said to himself, " Now I will awaken in ray- 
self 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 eflbrt 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, lilve 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 A'olition. 

It may be said that this wicked state of heart was the 
result 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 endeavoring to 
show there is, independently of the conduct, whether exter- 
nal or internal acts are meant by that term, a state of heart 
from which that conduct flows. 

Such considerations as these, and many others v/hich 
might be introduced if necessary, plainly show that man's 
.fuoral feelings are far less. under his direct control than liis 
intellectual or his hoclily powers. He may try to lift a 
weight — ^lie may try to run, to think, or to understand — 



PERSONAL IIvIPEOVEMENT. 341 

and he .will probabl}' succeed ; but it is hard to love or to 
liate by merely trying to. But after stating thus and illus- 
trating this principle, there is one sentence which I ought to 
Avrite in capitals, and express with the strongest emphasis in 
my power. Tlie heart is not indexjendent of our control 
in such a sense as to free us from moral obligation and 
accountability. ,Yv^e are most unquestionably free Ji the 
exercise of every good and of every evil feelmg of the heart, 
and we are plainly accountable for them most fully, though 
w^e may not have exerted a direct determination or volition 
to bring them into being. 

But is there any practical advantage, it may be asked, 
in drawing this distinction between the heart and the con- 
duct ? There is a great practical advantage, otherwise I 
should by no means have taken so much pains to exhibit it ; 
for although the intellectual efibrt which is necessary on tlio 
part of the reader in going into such a discussion is of great 
advantage, I should not have entered upon it with that 
object alone. I design to introduce -nothmg uito 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 Avhich I mean our acis^ 
whether internal or external — is wrong, but also that wo 
have within us evil hearts, inclining us to go astray : and 
that this evil heart itself is distinct from the going astray 
which results from it. A clear conception of this is tlie only 
safeguard against that self-sufficiency v/nich is destructive 
of all religious progress. "The heart," says the word of 
God "is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." 
The power which created it, alone can change its tenden^ 
cies, so as to make it as easy and as natural for us to da 
right as it is now to do wrong. To this power we must 
look. \Ye must look to God too with a feeling of distrust 
of ourselves, and a conviction that help can come only from 
him. " wretched man that I am ; who shall deliver mo 



342 TPIE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

from the body of this death ?" Yes, free as man is, and 
fully 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 strug- 
gles of his own will ever set him free. When he realizes 
this, and feels humbled and powerless, and utterly depend- 
ent upon divine grace, then God is ready to come into hi* 
soul to purify and to save him. 

In thus discussing this point, it has not been my inten- 
tion to go metaphysically into the subject of the nature of 
moral agency. My design has only been to show to Chris- 
tians, 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 simply 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 bring- 
ing 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 Avili, spend a 
part of your little season of retirement in reflecting on the 
consequences of sm. Look around you and see how many 
families it has made miserable, how many hearts it has des- 
olated. 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 crea- 
tures. Heflect 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 



PERSONAL IMPROYEMENT. 343 

you make no eflbrt 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 recollection. He saw clearly his 
relation to his Saviour, and the ingratitude of his denial of 
him. 

It is so with all the other emotions of piety. You will 
not succeed in loving God supremely by simply making the 
direct effort to do so. Yv^ould you become more thankful ? 
Look at his goodness and mercy to you ; see it in the thou- 
sand forms in which it shines upon you. Do not dwell upon 
it in generals, but come to minute particulars, and whether 
old or young, 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 com- 
forts and privileges and the sources of happiness which God 
has given you — and while you view them, remember that 
every week there are multitudes of children around you suf- 
fering from cold, from hunger, from neglect, or who are sum- 
moned 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 from 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 
afterwards 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 sit- 
ting in health and happiness at your own cheerful fireside, 



344 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

and hear the howhng 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 thousand cases 
like the one I have alluded to, and not feel grateful to your 
kind Protector ? If your heart is not entirely unrenewed — 
and I am speaking now to Christians — a devout gratitude 
will be warmly awakened while you reflect upon God's good- 
ness, and thus learn how much you are indebted 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 
bringing to view the truths which are calculated to awaken 
them. If your heart is right towards God in any degree, 
the presentation of these truths will awaken penitence and 
love ; and the more knowledge you acquire in regard to your 
relations to your Maker and his dealings with you, the more 
rapid will be your growth in grace. 

2. The second m.eans of grooving in grace is Christian 
action. Faith will not only show itself by works, but works 
will 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 becoming 
more interested in the case, sends a physician ; and when 
the patient recovers, 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 suffering poor of the 
town besides. It all began by his simply sending a little 
wood, which was, perhaps, almost accidental, or at least 
prompted by a very slight benevolent feeling. This feelmg 
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 tv/ice alluded to the benevolent 



PERSONAL impiiove:.ient. 345 

Howard, who went through Europe visiting the prisons, 
that he might learn the condition of their unhappy tenants 
and reheve their sufferings. And how was it that he be- 
came so much interested in prisoners ? It devolved upon 
him, in the discharge of some public duty hi his own county 
in England, to do something for the relief of prisoners there, 
and the moment he began to do sometlimg 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 some of 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 labors upon earth. 

If we then would grow in attachment to our Saviour, 
we must do sometliing 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 
Christian principle. You can all put this method immedi- 
ately to the test. Think of something which you can do in 
which you will be cooperating with God. The design of 
God is to relieve suffering and promote happiness wherever 
there is opportunity ; and as sin is the greatest obstacle in 
the way, he directs his first and chief efforts to the removal 
of sin. Now endeavor to find something which you can do^ 
by which sin can be removed or suffering alleviated, and go 
forth to the work feeling that you are cooperating with your 
Saviour in his great and benevolent plans. Perhaps you 
will find an opportunity in your own family, or perhaps in 
your neighborhood ; 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 
15^^ 



346 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

by the effort. You will feel, while you do it, that you are a 
co-worker with God — that you are, as it were, making com- 
mon cause with him, and the bonds by which you were 
before 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 iiito exercise, 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, w^e shall only plunge ourselves in 
endless perplexity. AVe know that we are accountable for 
all our feelings, as well as for our words and deeds, and at 
the same time we know that those feelings will prevail 
within us which reason and conscience condemn, unless the 
Holy Spirit saves us from being their prey. How emphati- 
cally does the language of Paul describe our melancholy sub- 
jection 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 Vv^ould, 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 delight in 
the law of God, after the hiM^ard 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 is in 
my members. wretched man that I am I Avho shall de- 
liver me from the body of this death ?" 

The conclusion to which he comes in the next verse is 



PERSONAL IMPUOVEMENT. - 347 

the right one, that God will deliver us through Jesus Christ 
our Lord. We must feel then humbly dependent on au 
influence from above. Let us come daily to our Father in 
heaven, praying him to draw us to the Saviour ; we shall 
not come unless 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 tempta- 
tion we must say, " Lord, hold thou me up, and I shall be 
safe," and we must say it with a feeling of entire moral 
deiiendence on God. 

Nor need we fear that this sense of dependence on God 
will impair our sense oi 'personal guilt, when we wilfully sin 
against him. I do not attempt to present any theory by 
which the two may be shown to be compatible with each 
other. We cannot easily understand the theory, but we feel 
and know that both are true. We all know that we are 
guilty for living 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 entire trust 
in God's word, believe our Maker when he says, "It is not 
of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God 
that showeth mercy." Let us receive this cordially, how- 
ever inconsistent it may seem to be with the injunction, 
"strive" — agonize — "to enter in at the strait gate;" and 
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 m 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 fully make up our minds 
that there is a difficulty in this subject beyond cur present 



348 THE YOUNG CHEISTIAK. 

powers to surmount, we can feel fully our own moral respon- 
sibility, and at the same time know that our dearest moral 
interests are in God's care. This feeling is committing our 
souls to our Saviour's keeping and care. "Were our hearts 
entirely under our own direct control, independent of God, 
we, and we only, could be their keepers ; but if we have 
given our hearts to Christ, he has promised to keep us by his 
foiver. He is able to keep us. He has control, after all, 
in our hearts ; and if we put our trust in him, he ivill keep 
us from falling, and present us at last faultless before the 
throne of his glory with exceeding joy. 

II. i::^TELLECTUAL IMPROVEMENT. 

It may perhaps seem strange that I should discuss the 
subject of intellectual progress in a book devoted to an ex- 
planation and 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 God 
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 pow- 
ers 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 finislied. 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 course, 
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, 



PEESONAL IMPEOVEMENT. 319 

there is no such thmg as a finished education. The most 
successful student that ever left a school, or took his degree 
at college, never arrived at a good place to stop in his intel- 
lectual course. In fact, the farther he goes the more desir- 
ous 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 undoubtedly in 
the case of the most accomplished and thorough scholar 
which the country can furnish, who has spent a long life m 
study, and who finds that the farther he goes the more and 
more widely does the boundless field of intelligence open 
before him. 

Give up then, at once, all idea oi finish i?ig your educa- 
tion. The sole object of the course of discipline at any 
literary institution in our land is not to Jinish, but just to 
show you hovv' to begin; to give you an impulse and a 
direction upon that course Vv^hich you ought to pursue 
with unabated and uninterrupted ardor as long as you have 
bemg. 

It is unquestionably true, that every person, whatever 
are his circumstances or condition in hfe, ought at all times 
to be making some steady eflorts to enlarge his stock of 
knowledge, to increase his mental powers, and thus to ex- 
pand 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 read- 
ing shall I pursue ? What books shall I select, and what 
plan in reading them shall I adopt?" 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 jjowers. Every ofie 
knows that there is a difTerence of ability in different mmds, 



350 THE YOUNa cheistian. 

but it is not so distinctly understood that every one's abili* 
ties may be increased or strengthened by a kind of culture 
adapted expressly to this purpose ; I mean a culture which 
is intended not to add to the stock of knowledge, but only 
to increase intellectual iiower. 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 and barbarous enough ; he is to 
stay with me and help me in my various plans, but he could 
help me much more efiectually 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 
to teach liim to think for himself. Then he will be far 
more valuable as a servant, than if he has to depend upon 
me for every thing he does." 

Accordingly some evening when the two, master and 
man, have finished the labors of the day, Robinson is walk- 
ing upon the sandy beach, with the wild savage by his side, 
and he concludes to give. him his first lesson in mathematics. 
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. "I 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 seri- 
ous attention to any thing, or rather, he has never made a 
serious mental efibrt 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 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMEInT. 351 

and looks at the smooth and beautiful curve which his 
master has drawn in the sand with a gaze of stupid amaze- 
ment. 

" Now listen carefully to what I say," says Robinson, 
" and see if you can understand 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 hues will all be equal." 

So saying, he draws several lines. He sets Friday to 
measuring them. Friday sees that they are equal, and is 
pleased, from two distinct causes : one, that he has success- 
fully exercised his thinking powers, and the other, that he 
has learned something which he never kncAV before. 

I wish now that the reader w^ould understand that 
Robinson 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, " "VYhy did you choose such a lesson 
as that for your savage ? You can teach him much more 
useful things than the properties of the circle. What good 
will it do him to know how to make circles ? Do you 
expect him to draw geometrical diagrams for you, or to 
calculate and project eclipses." 

" No," Robinson would reply ; " I do not care about 
Friday's understanding the properties of the circle. But I 
do v\'ant 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 — 
-uitable for the first lesson. I do not know that he will 
ever have occasion to make use of the fact, that the radii 
of a circle are equal, as long as he shall live — but he will 
have occasion for the poicer of patient attention and 



352 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

iliought which he acquired while attempting to understand 
that subject." 

This would unquestionably be sound philosophy, and i • 
savage who should study such a lesson on the beach of ^ 
own wild island w^ould 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 
inci'ease the 2^owers, and this is entirely distinct from the- 
acqiihitiorb of knowledge. Scholars very often ask, when 
pursuing some difficult study, " What good wdll it do me to 
know this ?" But that is not the question. They ought 
to ask, " "What good will it do me to learn it ? What ehect 
upon my habits of thinking, and upon my intellectual pow- 
ers, will be produced by the efforts necessary to examine 
and to conquer these difficulties ?" 

A very fine example of this is the study of conic sec- 
tions, a difficult branch of the course of mathematics pur- 
sued 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 mys- 
teries of the parabola, and the hyperbola, and the ordinates, 
and abscissas, and asymptotes ?" The answer is, that the 
Jcvoivledge of the facts which you acquire will probably do 
you no good whatever. That is not the object, and every 
college officer knows full well that the mathematical prin- 
ciples 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 mind and the influences which such 
exercises exert upon it, knows equally well that the study 
of the higher mathematics produces an effect in enlarging 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 353 

cmd dhcijulmmg the intellectual poivers which the whole 
of life will not obliterate. 

Do not shrink then from difficult work in your eflbrts at 
intellectual improvement. You ought, if you wish to secure 
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 of knoidedge. This is another 
object of intellectual efibrt ; 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 influence of a misguided interest in religious truth, 
that he will have nothing to do with human learning ; he 
will study nothing but the Bible, and all his leisure hours 
he will give to nieditation and prayer — and thus he wil] 
devote his whole time and strength to the promotion of hia 
progress in piety. But if there is any thmg clearly mani- 
fest of God's intentions in regard to employment for man, 
it is that he should spend a very considerable portion of his 
time upon earth in acc[uiring knowledge- — ^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 investigation 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 life, and even as late as 
twenty, and makes it a part of his constant aim to acquire 
knowledge — endeavoring every day to learn something which 
he did not know before, or to fix in the mind something 
which was not familiar before, he will make an almost' 
insensible, but a most rapid and important progress. The 
field of his intellectual vision will widen and extend every 
year. His powers of mind as well as his . attainments will 
be increased ; and as he can see more extensively, so he can 
act more efFectually every month than he could in the pre- 
ceding. He thus goes on through hfe, growing ui know- 



354 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

ledge and in intellectual and moral power ; and if his spirit- 
ual progress keeps pace, as it ought to, with his intellectual 
advancement, he is, with the divine assistance and blessing, 
exalting himself higher and higher in the scale of being, 
and preparing himself for a loftier and mder field of service 
in the Avorld to come, 

3. The acquisition of skill is a third object of intellect- 
ual effort. I pomt out clearly and separately the distinct 
objects v/hich intellectual effort ought to have in view, that 
my readers may. ascertain Avhether they 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 
designed to give him information or skill, 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 
numerous 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- 



PERSONAL liLPE-OVEMENT. 355 

Now, such a conversation as this is intended to give 
information. It may indeed be a useful discipline to Fri- 
day's powers to listen to it, but that is not its main design. 
Robinson's chief design is, to make his savage companion 
acquainted ivith facts which it is* on many accounts impor- 
tant that he should know. 

Now, let us take a third case. My readers are all doubt- 
less aware that savages can usually count only 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. 

Now, suppose Robinson were to undertake to teach 
Friday to count. He might say to himself, that it would 
often be a great convenience to him if Friday Avere able to 
count, so that he might ascertain and describe to him num- 
bers higher than those which he could express by his fingers. 
He accordingly commences the task, and perseveres day after 
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 efTort on 
the part of the savage, and although the learning to count 
is in one sense the <icquisition of knowledge, it is, in a much 
more important sense, the acquisition of slcill. By making 
the process of counting familiar, Friday is not so properly 
acquiring a knowledge of facts, as learning something 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 sJcill, 
that is, learning to do something, is very often the object in 
view. It is so with arithmetic. In studying the funda- 



356 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

mental rules, the main design is, not to bring in 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 are 
acquiring s,ldll. Now, all these three objects in a good 
scheme of education are to be kept constantly in view, and 
to be regularly j)rovided for. A young man at college, for 
instance, will study his demonstration in the mathematics 
in the morning, for the purpose of imp'ovin'g and strength- 
ening Ids 'powers,; he will listen to a philosophical or chem- 
ical lecture, or study botany in the fields, in the afternoon, to 
obtain knowledge, and in the evening he will practice in his 
debating society, to acquire skill. These three things are 
distinct and indejiendent, but all equally important in the 
business of life. If one is cultivated and the others neg- 
lected, the man is very poorly quahfied 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 recognize one who is 
in danger of such a result in his education, by his taking a 
strong interest, if he is in college, for example, in those pur- 
suits in his class which require more of great but temporary 
mental eiTort, 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 "famil- 
iarity with all the mazes of the most intricate theorem or 
problem ; and he excites an equal surprise by his apparent 
dulness at the recitation m liistory, making, as he does, the 
most ludicrous blunders, and showing the most lamentable 
ignorance of every thing wliich is beyond the pale of demon- 
stration. When at last he comes out into the world, his 
mind is acute and powerful, but he is an entire stranirer to 
the scene in v/hich he is to move ; he can do no good, be- 
cause he does not know where his efforts are to bo applied ; 
he makes the same blunders in real life that he did in col- 



PERSONAL IMPHOYEMENT. 357 

lege ill its history, and is soon neglected and forgotten. He 
liad cultivated simple j)oiver, but was without information 
or sldll ; liis power was consequently almost useless. 

On the other hand, a young man may spend his whole 
strength in simply obtaining kiioivledge — neglecting the 
cultivation of mental power, or the acquisition of skill. He 
neglects his severer studies, and his various opportunities 
for practice. " Spherics I" says he, " and trigonometrical 
formula I What good will they ever do me ? I am not 
going to be an almanac-maker, or to gain my livelihood by 
calculating eclipses." So he reads history and voyages and 
travels, and devours every species of periodical literature 
which finds its way within college walls. He very probably 
neglects those duties which, if faithfully performed, would 
cultivate the powers of conversation and writing and public 
speaking; and he comes out into the world equally cele- 
brated among all who knew him, on the one hand, for the 
variet}^ and extent of his general knowledge, and on the other, 
for the slenderness of his original mental power, and his 
utter want of any skill in bringing his multifarious acquisi- 
tions to bear upon the objects of life. 

In the same manner I might illustrate the excessive 
pursuit of the last of the objects I have named, namely, the 
acquisition of skill, but I think it is unnecessary. My 
readers will, I thinly, all clearly see that these objects are 
distinct, and that all are of the first importance to every 
one. To be most extensively useful, you must have original 
mental power and knowledge of facts, and skill to apply 
that knowledge in the most efTectual manner. 

The illustrations which I have employed have referred 
more directly to the cases of young men in a course of public 
education, but I have not intended that these principles 
should be exclusively applied to them. Nor are they to be 
confined in their application to the preparatory stages of 
education. Take, for example, a young mother of a family. 



358 THE YOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

She ought at all times to be making daily intellectual prog- ' 
ress, and this intellectual progress ought to be such as to 
secure a proportional attention to all the three objects I have 
named. She ought to investigate something which shall 
task her powers to the utmost, so as to secure discipline and 
hwprovement of those poivers. She ought also to make reg- 
ular and systematic efibrts to acquire information — by read- 
ing 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 learn- 
ing, for example, system in all her affairs — by studying im- 
provements in the manner in which all her duties are per- 
formed — endeavoring to become more faithful and system- 
atic 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 them in such a work 
as this. What I have already said in regard to the three 
separate 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 than 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, and close the chapter with a few 
directions in regard to such means of improvement as may 
be privately resorted to by individuals, in their desire to 
improve. 

I. Reading. There are several detached directions which 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 359 

will be of great service to you in your private reading, it 
they are faithfully followed. 

Read systematically. I mean by this, do not take up 
and read any books merely because they chance to fall in 
your way. You see on your neighbor's table a book which 
looks as if it v^/as interesting, as you say, and you think you 
would 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 v/hen you were interested 
in something else, or from being frequently interrupted, or 
perhaps from the character of the book, find it rather dull ; 
and after Avasting 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 Avill only dissipate the mind, destroy all habits of ac- 
curate thinking, and unfit you for any intellectual progress. 

But you must not go into the oppo^site extreme of draw- 
ing up for yourself a set of rules and a system of reading iiill 
enough to occupy you for years, and then begui upon that 
with the determination of confimng yourself, at all hazards, 
rigidly to it. What I mean by systematic reading is this : 

E-eflect 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 human 
knowledge, and see that your plan is so formed that it will 
give yon some knowledge of them all. In regard to the 



360 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

precise time and manner in wliicli yon shall fill up the de- 
tails, it is undoubtedly best not to form any exact plan. It 
is better to leave such to be decided 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 thoroughly. Avoid getting into the habit of going 
over the page in a listless and mechanical manner. Make 
an efibrt 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 
explained. 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 the allusion by books or by inquiry, so 
as. fully to understand it. If possible, find other accounts of 
the transactions which your author is describing, and com- 
pare one with another — reflect upon the differences in the 
statements, and endeavor 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 often undertake to read extensive tvorks. A 
young person will sometimes commence some extensive 
M^orkj* beginning it with no calculation of the time which 
v/ill be required to complete it, and in fact with no definite 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 361 

plan whatever. Such an undertaking is almost always a fail- 
ure. Any mind under twenty years of age will get wearied 
out again and again in going through a dozen octavo vol- 
umes on any subject whatever. There is no objection to 
reading such Avorks, but let it be in detached portions at a 
time. Select, for instance, from some approved history of 
England, the reign of some one monarch, Elizabeth or Al- 
fred ; or make choice of such a subject as the crusades, or 
the hfe of Mary queen of Scots, and mark off such a por- 
tion of the whole work as shall relate to the topic thus 
chosen. This can easily be done, and with no greater diffi- 
culty on account of its compelling the reader to begin in the 
middle of the history, than must always be felt in readmg 
history. If you begin at the beginning of a "vv^ork, and go 
regularly through to the end, you will find a thousand cases 
in which the narrative you read is connected with other his- 
tories in such a way as to demand the same effort to under- 
stand the connection which will be necessary in the course 
I have proposed. 

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 endeavor 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 efficiency m 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 perhaps 
nothing is more desired by all intelligent young persons who 
reflect at all upon their means of influence and improve- 
ment, than conversational power. But notwithstanding 
this general impression in its favor, there is nothing of half 
its importance which is so entirely neglected in education. 

Y. Christian. 1 G 



362 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

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 almost 
every effort to make it a distinct object of attention in a lite- 
rary seminary has either failed entirely, or resulted in produc- 
ing a stiff and formal manner, 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 
Avill notice his manner so much, and take so much pains 
with that, as to be in peculiar danger of affectation or for- 
mahty. To acquire the art of conversation, then, I would 
recommend that you should practise conversation systemati- 
cally and constantly, but that you should have some other 
objects than improvement in your manner of expressing 
yourself mainly in viev/. You will become interested in 
these objects, and consequently interested in the conversa- 
tion which you make use of as a means of promoting them ; 
and by not having your own manner directly in view, the 
danger of that stiffness and precision and affectation which 
is so common a result of efforts to improve in such an art 
as this, will be escaped. I will mention what these objects 
may be. 

Make conversation a means of acquiring hioivledge. 
Every person with v/hom you are thrown into casual con- 
nection 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 sa,y which can interest you. But speak to 
him — 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 



PERSONAL IMPHOYEJIENT. 363 

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 you ever learned. Avail 
yourselves, in this way, of every opportunity which Provi- 
dence 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 ui regard to its public institutions, 
its situations, its business, and its objects of interest of every 
kind. jNTow you cannot read the brief notices of this sort 
which common books can furnish, without having your curi- 
osity excited in regard to some points at least, and you will 
go into the company of the stranger, not dreading his pres- 
ence and shrinking from the necessity of conversation, but 
eager to avail yourself of the opportunity of gratifying your 
curiosity, and learning something full, and satisfactory 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 be brought 
together; and this is a most important object for you to 
secure. It will give vividness and an air of reality to writ- 
ten description, if you can frequently, after reading the de- 
scription, 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 connection will most frequently have 
visited, and make yourself as much acquainted with them 
as possible ; you can then converse about them. Ascertain 
too what are the common topics of conversation in the place 
in which you reside, and learn by reading or by inquiry' all 



364 THE YOUNa CHEISTIAN. 

you can atout tliem ; so that you may be prepared to un- 
derstand fully what you hear, and make your own inquiries 
advantageously, and thus be qualified to engage intelligently 
and with good effect, in the conversations in which you 
may join. 

On the same principle it will be well for you, when you 
meet with any difficulty 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 philo- 
sophical question, another a point of general literature, 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. 

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 re- 
ceived by the mind, but it must be analyzed and incorijo- 
rated ivith it, so as to form a part of the very mind itself; 
then, and not till then, can the knowledge be properly said 
to be really loossessed. If a scholar reads a passage in an 
author, the mere reception of it into the mind as a mass will 
do very little good. Take, for example, these very remarks 
on conversation : a reader may peruse the pages thoroughlj'-, 
and fully understand all that I say, and yet the whole that 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 365 

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 received into the mind, but made a subject 
of thought and reflectioiL there ; it may be analyzed ; the 
principles it explains 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 conversa- 
tion. His thoughts and notions in regard to it are perma- 
nently changed. His knowledge, in a word, is digested — 
assimilated to his own mind, so as to become as it v.^ere a 
part of it, and so intimately united with it as not to be sep' 
arated again. 

Now, conversation affords one of the most important 
means of digesting what is read and heard. In fact, you 
cannot talk about what you learn without digesting it. 
Sometimes two persons read together aloud, by turns ; each 
one freely remarldng upon what is read, making inquiries, or 
bringing forward additional facts or illustrations connected 
with the subject. Sometimes two persons reading separately, 
come together afterwards for a walk, and each one describes 
liis own book, and relates the substance of what it contains 
as far as he has read, bringing dovv^i at each successive meet- 
ing the narrative of the 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 read- 
ers will try this expemnent, 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 efibrt, discipline, 
knoAvledge, and skill, are almost altogether unknown amons: 



366 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

the young. I am satisfied, however, that any general 
remarks whicii I might make would be less likely to interest 
my readers in this subject than a particular description of 
the manner in which they can best use the pen to accom- 
plish the objects in view. I shall accordingly come at once 
to minute detail. 

1. Personal joiLvnal. Every young person may take a 
great deal of pleasure in keeping a journal of his own per- 
sonal history. After a very little practice the Avork itself 
will be pleasant, and the improvement which it will promote 
is far greater than one who has not 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 his- 
tory. Every thing relating to j'our progress in knowledge, 
your plans for your own improvement, the books you read, 
and the degree of interest which they excited, should be 
noted down. You ought not to resolve to write every day, 
because sometimes it will be impossible, and then when your 
resolution has once yielded to necessity, it will afterv/ards 
more easily be broken by negligence. Resolve simply to 
write ivlien 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 journal, 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 a journal, and in all the other sets of 
books which I shall describe, a double running title, so that 
the general title may be above the particular subjects of each 



PERSONAL niPP.OVEMENT. 367 

individual page. This dou"ble running title would be in the 
following form : 

1S32. PERSONAL JOURNAL. 63 

Ride into the country. Begin botany. My sister's sickness. 

The reader will understand that the imrnber 63 repre- 
sents the page. Corresponding with 1S32, should be writ 
ten on the opposite page the name of the place in which the 
writer resides, and the word private 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 fin- 
ished 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 let- 
ter-paper — folded once, with a plain marble-paper cover. 
These little 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 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 when 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 valuable and most inter- 
esting document. You will read its pages again and again 
with profit and pleasure. 

2. Family journal. Let three or four of the older 
brothers and sisters of a family agree to write a history of 
the family. Any father would procure a book for this pur- 
pose, and if the writers are young, the articles intended for 
insertion 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 



368 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

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 jom'neys 
or absences of the head of the family or its members — the 
sad scenes of sickness or death which may be witnessed, and 
the joyous ones of weddings, or festivities, or holidays — the 
manner in which the members are from time to time em- 
ployed — 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 family, when it is first established, should commence 
such a record of their own efforts and plans, and the various 
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 M^ork a source 
of great improvement and pleasure. It would tend to keep 
distinctly in view the great object for which they ought to 
live, and repeatedly recognizing, 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 
under the last head — the woxdi family being substituted for 
'pergonal in the general title. It ought also to be written 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 dis- 
grace, when perhaps they ought soon to be forgotten. It is 
true, that one of the most important portions of such a jour- 
nal would consist of the description of the various plans 
adopted for correcting faults, and for promoting improve- 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 3C9 

merit — the peculiar moral and intellectual treatment which 
each child received — the success of the various experiments 
in education which intelligent parents will always be dis- 
posed to try — and anecdotes of children, illustrating- the lan- 
guage, or the sentiments, or the difficulties of childhood. 
"With a little dexterity, however, on the part of the wiiter, a 
faithful record 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 
young persons, wdien they meet any thing remarkable in the 
course of their reading, transcribe it, with the expectation 
of referring to their copy afterwards to refresh their memo- 
ries, and thus, after a while, they get their desks very full 
of knowledge, wliile very little remains in the head. Now 
it ought to be remembered, that knowledge is of no value, or 
at least of scarcely any, unless it is fairly lodged in the niindy 
and so digested, as I have before shown, as to become a per- 
manent possession. Now, if transcribing and writing notes 
and abstracts of what you read is made the means 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 means, as any one may 
prove to himself by the following experiment. 

Head some history in the ordinary way, without the use 
of the pen, wdth the exception that you select some chapter 
in the middle of the work, with which you may try the 
experiment 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 
3^our 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. After fin- 

IG* 



370 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

ishing the abstract of that chapter, go on with the remainder 
of the book in the usual way, by simply reading it atten- 
tively. You will find now, if you carefully try this experi- 
ment, that the chapter which you have thus treated will, for 
many years, stand out most conspicuous of all in your recol- 
lections of the work. The facts which it has stated will 
retain a lodging in your minds when all the rest are forgot- 
ten, and they will come up, when wanted for use, with a 
readiness which wdll 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 labor 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 infor- 
mation which is new and valuable, you may write a full 
abstract of the whole. Gibbon, the celebrated historian, 
attributed, 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 education can read without profit 
and pleasure. 

Let the form of your books be like that of the journals 
above described ; Avith ruled lines at the top for a double 
running title, to facihtate reference. These lines should be 
ruled on through the book at first, at least they should be 
kept ruled far in advance of the writing, or the writer Avill 
inadvertently 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 dis- 
courage the writer. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 371 

Let your abstracts be of every variety of form and man- 
ner. Sometimes long and sometimes short, sometimes fully 
written in a finished style, and sometimes merely a table 
of contents of your book. There may be a blank line left 
between the separate articles, and the title of each should 
be written before it, and doubly underscored, that is, distin- 
guished by a double line drawn under 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 
interesting fact ; at other times a valuable moral sentiment, 
or a happy illustration. He will often insert only a single 
paragraph from a long book, and at other times make a full 
abstract of its contents. But I must give specimens, as by 
this means I can much more readily give my readers an 
idea of my meaning. These specimens are not imaginary 
ones. They are, with one or two exceptions, all taken from 
three or four abstract books of different young persons, who 
lent them to me for this purpose. The titles in capitals 
represent the underscored words described above. The run- 
ning title at the top should be like the specimen already 
given, with the exception that the words is^otes and ab- 
stracts should be substituted for personal journal. 

Friendship. — A man should keep his friendship in constant 
repair. — Johnson. 

Reynolds. — Sir Joshua Reynolds, a celebrated portrait 
painter, cotemporary and friend of Johnson, Goldsmith, etc., one 
'of the founders of the Royal Academy, and for many years its 
president. He was born near Plymouth, but resided in London 
during most of his life, occasionally making tours to the conti- 
nent. He died at an advanced age, of a disease of the liver. — 
Northcote's Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Florence. — The Academy of Fine Arts in Florence is the 
most celebrated school of painting in the world. 



372 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

Humboldt's New Spain, — Introduction gives an account of 
his own geometrical and astronomical observations in attempt- 
ing to determine 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 
he made between the Atlantic and Pacific — Vera Cruz the east- 
ern, and Acapulco the western port of Mexico. Gold and silver, 
he says, travel from west to east ; the 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 pre- 
cipitous valleys. 

In Mexico the chain of mountains spreads itself out into im- 
mense 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 atmosphere, as they can in northern lati- 
tudes. 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 cur- 
rents of the ocean. 

Chronology. — Difference between the chronology of the 
Hebrev.' and Septuagint manuf^cripts. 

Mount 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 endeavored to secure to themselves the cooperation 
of the natives, and in this way tire 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. 

Raja Dowlah, sovereign of Bengal, a wealthy, extensive, 
and populous 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 
endeavored to oppose them, and in consequence the English 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 373 

fomented a conspiracy against his government, enticed his prime 
minister to treason, and then, after fighting a single battle, 
placed him in command. Col. Clive 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 
Coromandel, and the natives brought under the power of the 
English. 

Synagogues. — It is generally supposed that the Jewish syn- 
agogues originated during the captivity, and were continued 
after their return. — Kimpton. 

I should suppose, from the appearance of these articles, 
which were the first few pages of a large book of this kind, 
that they were all the notes taken of the reading of some 
weeks, as several books of considerable size are quoted as 
authority. It is not best 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 be 
discouraged and give up the plan, but just begin where 
you left offj and renew your work and your resolution to- 
gether. 

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 exer- 
cise 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 writer'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 times and places. Samaritan Pentateuch : 
discrepancies between it and the Hebrew Bible. Controversy. 
Discovery in modern times of these manuscripts. 



374 THE YOUNa CHUISTIAN. 

Its preservation by successive transcripts. Old ones worn 
out and lost. Exemplars. 

Greek Testament. Why in Greek? Circulated in manu- 
script. 

Textus receptus. Elzevir edition. Pres. manuscripts im- 
perfect. Written about 1,000 or 1,400 Alexandrian manuscripts. 
Vatican. INIodes of determining antiquity. British Museum. 

Translations. Septuagint. Vulgate. Printed editions of 
the Bible and Greek Testament. Complutensian Polyglot. 
Sources of information. Manuscripts. Septuagint. Samari 
tan Pentateuch ; quotations, 1514. 

English. WicklifFe's. Oppositions made to it. Circulated 
in manuscript. Tindal's printed in Holland. Efforts to keep 
copies out of England. Bishop of London bought up the whole 
edition to burn. 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' labor, issued, in 1660, the most commonly approved ver- 
sion. 

Another form in which these abstracts may be written, 
where the importance of the subject or the interest of the 
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 HUMPHREY DAVY. 

Born at Penzance, Cornwall, Eng., Dec. 1779. His family 
were in the middle ranii 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 poeti- 
cal talents. At eighteen his acquirements in many of the sci- 
ences were good, but chemistry particularly arrested his atten- 
tion. His first experiments showed originality, and his pursuit 
promised useful discoveries. His first examination 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 chem- 
ical studies he published his '-Researches," which exhibited 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 375 

great skill, and gave to the ^\-orld many original experiments 
and discoveries. He first tried the experiment of inhaling the ni- 
trous oxide — the exhilarating gas. ^yhen not much over twenty 
years of age he was designated to fill the chemical chair in the 
Royal Institution in Great Britain, founded by Count Rumford. 
His first efibrts in this elevated sphere were turned towards 
endeavoring to render his powers useful and advantageous to 
the arts employed in the humhler walks of life. The tanning 
of leather and agricultural implements were among the subjects 
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 for- 
Vv'ard his theory respecting the nature of chlorine, or ox^anuri- 
atic acid, which gave rise to a memorable controversy that agi- 
tated 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 he was knighted by the Prince Regent, (George IV.,) 
and was thus released from the arduous duties of the professor- 
ship, and was enabled to devote himself wholly to his pursuits. 
His attempts to unroll the valuable MSS. found in the ruins of 
Herculaneum, 1,696 in number, were fi-ustrated by unavoidable 
obstacles thrown in his way by jealous superintendents of the 
Museum ; but the enterprise was not wholly fruitless, twenty- 
three MSS. being partially unrolled. The year 1818 was ren- 
dered 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 atmos- 
pheric air, takes fire from a lamp, and explodes with great vio- 
lence. 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, without the occur- 
rence of a single explosion, proves its importance, and the ben- 
efit conferred on the world by its invention. In 1820, by a 
majority of two hundred to thirteen, he was elected president of 
the Royal Institution. His last gi-eat scientific effort was the 
discovery of a method o/ prof ech'ng the copper sheathing of ships 
from corrosion by sea-water. His method of proceeding in this 
and all similar cases, was simple and obvious, yet one rarely 
followed, namely, first to ascertain the cause of the evil, and 
then to find out how to control it- by studying its nature. He 



376 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

died at Geneva, where lie had resorted for his health, of apo- 
plexy, aged 50 years and 6 months. 

I have one more form to describe, in which these notes 
and abstracts may be kept. It requires a little higher intel- 
lectual effort, and is consequently more useful than the 
other. You meet, in conversation or in reading, 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 
which 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 whenever such extra 
pay is not oflered. 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. ^^Pareiits should never promise their 
children any reward for doing right, or for 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 re- 
ward ; 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 following are similar examples, but on difierent 
subjects. 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 : 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 377 

'•' I remember well, as we moved doAYii in column, shot and 
shell fle\y over and through it in quick succession. We sustain- 
ed little injury from either ) but a captain of the twenty-ninth 
had been dreadfully lacerated by a ball, and lay directly in our 
path. We passed close to him ] he knew us all ; and the heart- 
rending tone in which he called to us for water ^ or to Icill him^ I 
shall never forget. He lay alone, and we were in motion, and 
could give him no succor ; 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 v/as wanted in the field." 

Deceiving Children. — Returning from school yesterday 
afternoon, my attention was arrested by the loud voice of some 
one addressing a child ; I turned, and as I walked very leisurely, 
I overheard the following conversation : 

Lady. "John, 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 I'm a 
mind to, for all you.*' 

Lady. "You little impudence; I don't love you, I don't love 
you at all." 

John. "Well, that's no matter." 

Lady. " I'll go off, then ; good-night. I am going to the jail." 

She turns round, and walks down the street a little distance. 

Lady. " 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" far as not to be able to hear what more 
they said, but I could not help pitying the child, who thus early 
was taught to disobey his superiors, for surely it is nothing less. 

Many parents, and even brothers and sisters, complain of the 
conduct of the younger members of their families, while they are 
continually treating them in this manner; they certainly need 
expect nothing better from them while they endeavor thus to 
deceive them. 

The above examples illustrate well what I mean by- 
turning knowledge to account, drawing from it the practical 
lessons which it may help to teach. This is in fact the 



378 THE YOUNG CHEISTIAN. 

most important part of your object in mental cultivation. 
Many young persons err exceedingly in seeking simply laioio 
ledge, 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 readers would always rememher, that moral 
progress is far more valuable than intellectual; the latter in 
fact is but the instrument of the former. In all your writ 
ing, then, aim at accomplishing the real object which ought 
always to be kept in view. In selecting from 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 impres- 
sions your pen may strengthen or renew. I close the chap- 
ter with two specimens which will illustrate this. One, as 
will be evident 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 substantially true : the latter 
entirely so. 

" Boast not thyself of to-morrow." — Yesterday our sum- 
mer term closed, and a day of bustle it was. Every moment 
that could possibly be spared from our studies was devoted to 
preparations for returning home — packing trunks, exchanging 
parting words, and talking over various plans for enjoyment dur- 
ing the vacation, which all seemed to anticipate as a continued 
scene of unalloyed 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 meeting 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 deep sorrow. 

Last evening we assembled in the hall for our devotiojis, and 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 379 

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 particularly observed by several, on account of the 
appropriate warning it seemed to convey. She little thought 
how soon her own 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 restrained wdthin 
proper bounds, exclaiming, "To-morrow — ^to-morrow how happy 
I shall be." 

" Remember your text, dear Ellen," said one of our beloved 
companions with a sober smile, as she passed on to her own 
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 me, 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 the 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. 

" 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 selection 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 ?" 

"I am not superstitious," said Ellen, smiling; "besides, it 
refers to to-morrow, not to to-day y 

At the breakfast-table little was eaten and little was said. 
There vrere happy faces there, but the joyous excitement of the 
preceding evening had given place to deeper feeling. 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 particularly painful, as all expected to 
meet again at the expiration of the vacation. 



380 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

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 Ellen, She broke the seal, and glancing at the contents, 
hastily placed it in the hand of the governess and rushed up to 
her own room. I followed, and found her in tears, greatly agi- 
tated. 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, until 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 sudden and dangerous illness of their eldest son, a young 
gentleman of high promise, who had nearly completed his pro- 
fessional studies. His physicians gave not the slightest hope of 
his life. His parents made immediate preparations for leaving 
home, with the faint 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 at- 
tached. 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 father 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 of my companions that can never be 
effaced. I shall never again hear others plamiing with confi- 
dence for the future, without thinking of poor Ellen's disap- 
pointment and affliction, and of the text, " Boast not thyself of 
to-morrow 3 for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth." 



PERSONAL IMPROYEMENT. 381 

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 writer, they may perhaps better be 
inserted here. I admit this last the more readily, as the 
thoughts of the final account which we all must render are 
brought up very distinctly to view by 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 resolutions which 
I trust some at least of my readers have formed, and stimu- 
lating them to diligence in duty. 

THE DYING BED, 

On Monday, a few minutes before breakfast, a messenger 
came to me with a note from a gentleman whom I shall call 
Mr. A., whose wife, the Saturday previous, was taken suddenly 
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, "for 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. ^le seemed near her end. 
Having understood that neither herself nor husband were pro- 
fessing Christians, I attempted to point out to her without delay 
the way to be saved, and directed her mind at once to the Sav- 
iour of sinners. She could just speak a few words in faint and 
broken whispers — just enough for me to ascertain her anxious 
and agitated feelings. I endeavored to compose her mind, and 
to explain the feelings 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 espe- 
cially any one in the immediate prospect of eternity, to the Lamb 
flf God, who taketh away the sins of the world. I looked to the 
Saviour to help and to guide me, to put such thoughts in my 
heart and words in my mouth as he saw were necessary, and as 
would be suited to the sick, and as I supposed, dying woman. I 
besought him earnestly, in silence, that he would assist me in 
beins faithful and useful to her immortal soul. 



382 THE youNa christian. 

After some few questions, and some remarks and quotation? 
from the Saviour's words, at her request I engaged in prayer. 
Her husband, one son about twelve, another son about six years, 
and her youngest child about eighteen months, were present. 
Several other relations and friends were also there. We kneeled 
around her bedside 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 fan, and the catching of her breath as she recovered 
from a swoon. 

After a few minutes had elapsed, during which she seemed 
struggling with sickness and with a tumult of feeling in her 
bosom, she called the different members of her family around 
her. First to her husband she addressed herself somewhat in 
these words : 

" And now, my dear husband, I hope you will keep your res- 
olution, and not let the next communion season pass without 
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, expressing 
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 without father 
or mother in the world ;t but Mr. A. has always treated you as 
one of his own children ; and if you will be 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 

* They had, at a communion-service in their neighborhood, a short time 
before, unitedly resolved to improve the next occasion, which was expected in 
a few Aveeks, to connect themselves with the church, and enter upon all the 
duties of a Christian life. 

t He was the son of her former h^^sband. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 383 

by the hand, and hade him a similar and equally affecting 
adieu. 

The youngest, about eighteen months old, she requested to 
be laid upon a pillow in her bosom. She tenderly embraced it, 
and all ivcpt. 

She then called for her mother-in-law, who was behind her — ■ 
the bed standing in the middle of the 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 wiio was now at her side fanning her, and in tears, and tak- 
ing his hand, expressed her ardent affection and gratitude towards 
him for his kindness and attention during their long acquaint- 
ance. She alluded to an interview with him many years ago, 
and seemed most deeply affected in remembrance, as I thought, 
of some proofs of real fraternal kindness which she then received 
from him. 

She sent her last message to her parents, brothers, and sisters, 
and when her strength and voice failed 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 — • for an overcoming faith !' " 

The hymn-book, however, was given to her husband, who 
read two lines at a time of the hymn his vrife had named, when 
all who could sing, and whose emotions woiild 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. that the delusive hope of preparing for death upon 
a death-bed were banished for ever from the earth. 

I have inserted the two foregoing specimens, in order to 
bring up as distinctly as possible this principle, namely, that 
in all your efforts at intellectual improvement, you ought to 
look with special interest at the moral bearings and rela- 



384 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

tions of all which you read or hear. The heart is the true 
seat both of virtue 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 far 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 of 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, Avill not make any vigorous and earnest eflbrts to adopt 
the plan. Still more will probably begin a book or two, but 
will soon forget their resolution, and leave the half-finished 
manuscript in some neglected corner of their desks finally 
abandoned. But if any should adopt these plans, and faith- 
fully prosecute them, they will find that the practice of ex- 
pressing 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. 



CONCLUSlOIf. 385 

CHAPTER XII. 

CONCLUSION. 

*And now I commend you to G-od, and to the word of his grace, which is able 
to build yoii up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are 
sanctified." 

As I draw towards the close of this volume. I tliink of 
the mfluence which it is to exert upon the many who will 
read it, with mingled emotions of hope and fear. I have 
endeavored to state, and to illustrate, some of the promment 
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 mind 
the question, whether you will or will not confess and for- 
sake your sins, and henceforth live to God, that you may 
accomphsh the great object for which life was given. I 
shall say notliing, 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 partuig words for those who have 
accompanied me thus far, with at least some attempt at 
self-apphcation — some desire to cherish the feelings which I 
have endeavored to portray — 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 oppor- 
tunity to read a religious book — and more especially for the 
young to have opportunity to read a practical treatise on 
the duties of piety, written expressly for their use. The 
time is coming when we shall look back upon all our privi- 
leges with sad reflections at the recollection of those which 

Y. Ch-isti:!!.. 17 



38G THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

we have not improved ; and it is sad for me to think, that 
many of those v,'ho shall have read these pages will in a 
future, and perhaps not a very distant day, look upon me as 
the innocent means of aggravating their sufferings, hy hav- 
ing assisted to bring them light, which they nevertheless 
would not regard. This unpleasant part of my responsibility 
I must necessarily assume. I share it with every one who 
endeavors to lay before men the principles of duty, and the 
inducements to the performance of it. He who enhghtens 
the path of piety, promotes the happiness of those who are 
persuaded to walk in it, but 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 
savor of death unto death, and to the other, the savor 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 be just as sure to those 
who partially neglect them. I will suppose that a young 
person whose heart is truly renewed, and who has begun to 
live to God, hears of this book, and procures it to read. She 
feels desirous of cultivating Christian principles, and sits 
down to her work with a sincere desire to derive spiritual 
benefit from the instructions. She does not run over the 
pages, culling out the stories for the sake of the interest oi 
the narrative, and neglecting all the applications of them to 
the purposes of instruction ; but she inquires, when a fact or 
an illustration is introduced, for what purpose it is used — 
what moral lesson it is intended to teach — and how she can 
learn from it somethmg 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 in full earnest engage in the prac- 
tice of them. For example, she reads the chapter on con- 



CONCLUSION. 387 

fessioii, 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 of that chapter, explore fully all her 
heart, and scrutinize with an impartial eye all her conduct, 
that every thing which is ^^Tong may be brought to hght, 
and frankly confessed and abandoned. 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 influence of Christian principle is 
yet weak in his heart, reads that portion of the v.^ork Avhich 
relates to the Sabbath. He Imows 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 ovni 
case.. He accordingly makes a feeble resolution to do it. 
The first Sabbath after he reads the chapter, his resolutions 
are partially kept. But he gradually neglects them, and 
returns to his former state of inaction and spiritual torpor on 
God's holy day. Perhaps I express myself too strongly in 
speaking of inaction and torpor as being a possible state of 
mind for a Christian on the Sabbath ; but it must be admit- 
ted, that many approach far too near to it. 

ISTow, there is no question that many young Christians 
will 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 efforts, the advantages which 
it might afford. Now, a book of religious instruction is not 
like a medicine, which, if it is once admitted into the system, 



388 THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

will produce its effect without any farther effort on the part 
of the patient. It is a tool for you to use industriously your- 
self The moral powers will not grow unless you cultivate 
them by your own active efforts. If you satisfy yourself 
with merely bringing 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 half-a-dozen spades and hoes in another, and expect by 
this means to secure a harvest. Many persons read religious 
books continually, but make no progress in piety. The rea- 
son is, their own moral powers are inert while they do it. 
The intellect may be active in reading and understanding 
the successive pages, but the heart and the conscience lie 
still, hoping that the truth may of itself do them good. They 
bring the instrument 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 reading and understanding 
it, however thoroughly it may be done, will do them any 
good. The book, of itself, never can do good. It is intend- 
ed to guide its readers to Christ, and show how they may 
get good to themselves, and it will benefit none who are not 
willing to be active in its application and use. 

Do you, my reader, really wish to derive permanent and 
real benefit from this book ? If so, take the following meas- 
ures ; it is a course which it would be well for you always 
to take at the close of every book you read on the subject of 
duty. Recall to mind all those passages which, as you have 
read its pages, have presented to you something which at 
the time you resolved to do. HecoUect, if you can, every 
plan recommended, which, at the time when you were read- 
ing 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 



COI^CLUSION. 389 

cursory review. You will thus bring up again to your minds 
those points in which the instructions of the hook are partic- 
ularly adapted to your own past history and present spiritual 
condition. 

After having thus fully reconsidered the whole ground, 
and gathered all the important points which are peculiarly 
adapted to your own case into one view, consider deliber- 
ately, before you finally close the book, ivhat you luill 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 conducive 
to your happiness, determine, deliberately and understand- 
ingly, whether you will adopt it ©r not. Do not leave it to 
be decided by chance, or by your own accidental feehngs of 
energy or of indolence, what course you v/ill take in refer- 
ence to a subject so momentous as the questions of religious 
duty. I fear, however, that notwithstanding all that I can 
say, very many, even among the most thoughtful of my 
readers, will close this book without deriving from it any 
permanent good, either in their conduct or their hearts. It 
will have only produced a few good intentions, which will 
never be cai'ried into efiect, 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 interested 
enough in religion to give up the pleasures of sin, you can- 
not be happy unless you secure the happiness of piety. 
There are, at the present day, great numbers in whose 
hearts religious 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 tuith all 
their hearts to the service of the Saviour. They feel, con- 
sequently, that thev have lost the world ; thev cannot be 

17^ 



390 THE YOUNa CHRISTIAN. 

gatisfied with its pleasures, and they are unhappy, and feel 
that they are out of place when in the company of its vota- 
ries. 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 efibrts to 
please him by promoting human happiness ; and none is 
perhaps more unhappy, and prepares more efiectually for a 
melancholy dying hour, than to spend our days with the 
path of duty plain before us, and conscience urging us to 
walk in it, while we hang back, 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 ejitirely ; and when you 
choose God and religion for your portion, do it with all your 
heart. Outrun conscience in the path of duty, instead of 
waiting to have your lagging steps quickened by her scourge. 
Once more. Much less of life is left to you than you 
generally suppose. Perhaps the average age of the readers 
of this book is between fifteen and twenty, and fifteen or 
twenty years is probably, upon 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 
full development of your powers, and have consequently but 
just begun the actual work of life. The long years that are 
past have been spent in preparation. Hence you are called 
young — you are said to be just begimiing life, understand- 
ing, 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 ; life, so far as it presents 
opportunities and facilities for penitence and pardon — so far 
as it bears on the formation of character, and is to be con- 
sidered as a period of probation — is unquestionably more than 
lialf gone to those who are between fifteen and twenty. In 



CONCLUSION. o'JI 

a vast number of cases it is more than half gone, ev.n in 
duration, at that time ; and if we consider the thousand 
influences which crowd around the years of childhood and 
youth, winning to piety, and making a surrender to Jehovah 
easy and pleasant then, and on the other hand look forward 
beyond the years of maturity and see these influences losing 
their power, and the heart becoming harder and harcTer 
under the deadening elTects of continuance in sin, Ave shall 
not doubt a moment that the years of youth make a far 
more important part of our time of probation than all those 
that follovr. 

You will do right then, when you are thinking of your 
business or your profession, to consider life as but begun ; 
but when you look upon the great work of preparation for 
another world, you might more properly 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 earth is to 
exemplify, for a few years, the character which in early life 
you formed. If, therefore, you would do any thing in your 
own heart for the cause of truth and duty, you must do it 
in earnest, and must do it now, 

I have intended this book chiefly for the young, but 1 
cannot close it without a word at parting to those of my 
readers who have passed the period of youth. If the Avork 
shall at all answer the purpose for v*'hich it is intended, it 
will, in some instances at least, be read by the mature ; and 
I may perhaps, without impropriety, address a few words 
respectfully to them. 

You are probably parents ; your children have been 
reading this book, and you have perhaps taken it up because 
you are interested in whatever interests them. You feel 
also a very strong desire to promote their piety, and this 
desire leads you to wish to hear, yourselves, whatever on 



392 THE iuUNG- CHUISTIAN. 

this subject is addressed to tliem. I have several times iii 
the course of this work intimated, that the principles which 
it has been intended to illustrate and explain, are equally 
applicable to young and old. It has been 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 some- 
times himself be affected by truths which he was reading 
during a winter evening to his assembled family ; or that a 
mother might take up the book purchased for her children, 
and be led herself to the Saviour by a chapter which was 
mainly written for the purpose of winning them. I do not 
intend, however, to press here again your oAvn personal 
duties. I have another object in view. 

That object is to ask you to cooperate fully and cordially 
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 adapt- 
ed 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 regulator of 
that felt by the child. 

If you notice any thing in the volume which you think 
erroneous, or calculated to lead to error ; 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 gen- 
eral 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 thp.t 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 relig- 
'ous obhgation in its most plain and simple form. 



CONCLUSION. 393 

On the other hand, do not magnify the faults which you 
may find, or think you find, or turn off the attention of your 
children from the serious questions of duty which the book 
is intended to bring before the conscience and the heart, to 
a cold and speculative 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. Par- 
ents easily can, on their walk home from church, obliterate 
all serious impressions from the minds of their children, by 
conversation which shows that they are looking only at the 
literary aspects of the performance to wliich they have lis- 
tened. In the same manner they can destroy the influence 
of a book, by turning away attention from the questions of 
duty which it brings up, to an inquiry into the logic of an 
argument, or a comment upon the dulness or the interest of 
a story. 

There is one thing more which I may perhaps without 
impropriety say. Your religious influence over your chil- 
dren Avill depend far more on your example than upon your 
efTorts to procure for them good religious instruction. They 
look to you for an exemplification of piety, and if they do 
not see this, you cannot expect that they will yield them- 
selves to its principles on your recommendation. Your chil- 
dren, too, must see piety exemplified in a way which they 
can appreciate and understand. To make vigorous efTorta 
for the support of the gospel — to contribute generously for 
the various benevolent objects of the day — and even to culti- 
vate m your hours of secret devotion the most heartfelt and 
abasing penitence for sin, will not alone be enough to recom- 
mend piety eiTectually to your children. They look at other 
aspects of your conduct and character. They observe the 
tone of kindness or of harshness with which you speak — the 
tranquillity or the irritation with which you bear the little 
trials and disappomtments of life — your patience in suffering, 
and your calmness in danger. They watch you to observe 



394 THE YOUNG- CHRISTIAN. 

how faithfully you perform the ordinary duties of your sta- 
tion. They look with eager interest into your countenance, 
to see with what spirit you receive an injury, or rebuke what 
is wrong. 

By making faithful and constant efforts to live like Chris- 
tians 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 instruc- 
tion to the peculiar intellectual habits of the young, you may 
anticipate a sure and an abundant blessing upon your labors. 
Childhood is a most fertile part of the vineyard of the Lord. 
The seed which is planted there vegetates very soon, and the 
weeds which sprmg up are easily eradicated. It is in fact, 
in every respect an easy and a pleasant ispot to till, and the 
flowers and fruits Avhich, v^ith ^prpp^r effort, will bloom and 
ripen there, surpass all othars in richne^l and' beauty. 



M:^8 R ,\ R 



--J 



h. ^^ 



