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TRACTS 

/ OF THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

(Btntvai BtxxtB, 




VOL. I. 

PRINTED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



CONTENTS 



VOL. I. 

No. Paqks. 

1. Address of the Executive Committee of the American Tract 

Society to the Christian pubUc, 16 

2. The Work of the Holy Spirit. By Rev. Robert Hall, . 20 

3. A friendly Visit to the House of Mourning. By Rev. Richard 

Cecil, 24 

4. " Without Holiness no Man shall see the Lord," ... 4 

5. The Warning Voice, 8 

6. The One Thing Needful, 4 

7. The Happy Negro, 4 

8. The Lord's Day, 4 

9. The Dairyman's Daughter. By Rev. Legh Richmond, . 32 

10. The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. By Mrs. Hannah More, . 28 

11. "'Tis all for the Best." By Mrs. Hannah More, . . 20 

12. Profane Swearing, 4 

13. Character and Condition of Females in Pagan and Moham- 

medan countries, . . . . . . . . 20 

14. Peace to the Troubled, ....... 4 

15. The downward Course of Sin. By Rev. Andrew Fuller, . 8 

16. Pious Resolutions, 4 

17. Parley the Porter. By Mrs. Hannah More, . . .16 

18. Family Worship. By Philip Doddridge, D. D., . . 16 

19. The Moral Man Tried. By Rev. Thomas Vivian, . . 20 

20. " Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it Holy," . . 4 

21. The Closet Companion ; a Help to Self-examination, . . 8 

22. The Eari of Rochester, 4 

23. God a Refuge, 8 

24. Keeping the Heart. By Rev. John Flavel, ... 12 

25. Effects of Ardent Spirits. By Dr. Benjamin Rush, . . 8 

26. Sin no Trifle, 4 

27. Parental Duties, 12 



4 CONTENTS. 

No. Paqes. 

28. The Spoiled Child. By W. C. Brownlee, D. D., . . 28 

29. The Child's Guide to Prayer. By Rev. Dr. Watts, . . 8 

30. The Benevolence of God, 12 

31. Knocking at the Door. By Rev. J. Scudder, . . . 20 

32. Day of Judgment, 12 

33. Redemption. By Joseph John Gumey, . . . .36 

34. A Sabbath at Home, 8 

35. The Widow's Son, 24 

36. The Village Funeral, 12 

37. The Sabbath a Blessing to Mankind. By Rev. Gardiner 

Spring, D. D., 20 



THE 



ADDRESS 



THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 



AMERICAxN TRACT SOCIETY 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC, 



ITS ORGANIZATION IN 1825. 



PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU. STREET, NEW YORK. 



ADDRESS 



THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 



The Executive Committee of the American Tract 
Society, by this document, beg the privilege of addressing 
the Christian community upon one of the most interesting 
subjects which has ever attracted the notice of those whose 
stations or whose character give them influence over the 
destiny of their fellow-men. In the month of March, 
1825, incipient measures were adopted in the city of New- 
York, with the view of forming a Society, to be denomina- 
ted the American Tract Society; the object of which 
should be, "to diffuse a knowledge of our Lord Jesus 
Christ as the Redeemer of sinners, and to promote the in- 
terests of vital godliness and sound morality, by the circu- 
lation of Religious Tracts, calculated to receive the appro- 
bation of all Evangelical Christians." Deference to the 
numerous existing Societies in the different States induced 
the original projectors of this design to invite a consultation 
of delegates to be holden on the Tuesday preceding the 
anniversary of the American Bible Society, in May then 
ensuing, for the purpose of maturing the enterprise, and 
giving existence and form to the Institution. At this con- 



4 ADDRESS TO 

sultation there were present a respectable number of dele- 
gates, from various religious denominations, who, with the 
advice and assistance of other gentlemen of high consider- 
ation from different sections of the country, revised and 
agreed upon a Constitution to be submitted to a more public 
meeting on the following day, when the proceedings of the 
Convention were considered and sanctioned with a most 
delightful unanimity. 

In making this presentation of their object to the friends 
of the Redeemer in the United States, and in venturing 
most respectfully to urge the claims of this Institution to 
general patronage, the Committee feel that it is needless to 
exhibit, to any considerable extent, the supe-rior advantages 
of that method of moral and religious instruction which is 
pursued by the distribution of Tracts. Though men are 
fallen by their iniquity, and are to be recovered from their 
apostasy and condemnation only through the redemption 
that is in Christ Jesus, and by the renewing of the Holy 
Ghost, yet does this method of mercy most distinctly recog- 
nize the use of means in the business of their salvation. 
Next to the Bible and the living ministry, one of these 
means of light and salvation will be found to be, short, plain, 
striking, entertaining, and instructive Tracts, exhibiting in 
writing some of the great and glorious truths of the Gospel. 
" The Word of Truth " is the great instrument of moral 
renovation. He who scatters it, scatters the seed of the 
Kingdom, and may look for the harvest in God's own good 
time and way. A Tract may bo perused at leisure ; it may 
be consulted in the hour of retirement and solitude ; it can 
be read in a little time ; and though it may contain instruction 
important and weighty enough for the consideration of the 
sage, and yet simple enough to be accommodated to the 
taste and intelligence of a child, may be easily weighed and 
deposited in the memory. This method of instruction is 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC. 

peculiarly calculated for the poor, and is especially de- 
manded by the poor of an extended population. It is a 
method by which the blessings of a religious education 
may, to no inconsiderable degree, be extended to the lower 
ranks of society with peculiar facility, and which, as a 
practical system, is already entitled to the claims of suc- 
cessful experiment. It is a means of doing good which is 
level to every capacity, and adapted to every condition. 
The man of low attainment in science, the mother, the 
child, the obscure in the meanest condition, can give away 
a Tract, and, perhaps, accompany it with a word of advice 
or admonition, with as much promise of success as a mis- 
sionary or an apostle. A minister may distribute Tracts 
among his people, and thus impress and extend his public 
instructions where impressions of his official duty would 
otherwise be lost, or never extended ; and in this way he 
may double his usefulneSsS, and devote two lives to his 
Master's glory instead of one. The teacher and the pupil, 
the parent and the child, the master and the servant, may 
become to each other the most effectual preachers, by the 
distribution of Tracts. The traveller may scatter them 
along the roads and throughout the inns and cottages ; and 
in return, the inns and cottages may spread them before the 
eye of the thoughtless traveller. Merchants may distribute 
them to shipmasters, and shipmasters to seamen ; men of 
business may transmit them with every bale of goods, to 
the remote corners of the land and globe ; and thus the 
infinitely important truths of the Gospel — truths by which 
it is the purpose of the God of Heaven to make men " wise 
to salvation " — like the diffusive light, may be emitted from 
numberless sources, and in every direction. All this may 
be done in the most inoffensive and unobtrusive way ; with 
no magisterial authority ; no claims of superior wisdom or 
goodness ; and no alarm to human pride or frowardness. 
VOL. I. 1* 



6 ADDRESS TO 

All this may be done, too^ with no loss of time. " A Tract 
can be given away, and God's blessing asked upon it, in a 
moment." Aside from the influence of those institutions 
which involve no expense at all, in no way can so much 
probable good be effected at so little expense, as by the dis- 
tribution of Tracts. A Tract which contains ^i!een pages, 
can be published for a single cent ! And when we recollect 
how long a single Tract may be preserved, by how many 
individuals and families it may be read, and when read by 
them, to how many others it may be lent, it is difficult to 
conceive of a way in which more good can be accomplished 
by a very small amount of means. As an auxiliary to 
other means of doing good, the distribution of Tracts also 
holds a distinguished place. Tn how many sick chambers, 
in how many meetings of anxious inquiry, in how many 
circles of wealth and prosperity, of fashion, folly, and vice, 
may these faithful witnesses be left to testify what other- 
wise never would be told. The language of every Mis- 
sionary Society, either domestic or foreign, is, " A Mission- 
ary without a supply of Tracts is unprovided for his work ; 
the press is the grand medium of communication in all 
parts of the missionary world." A missionary at Sumatra 
writes — "I am fully of opinion that, among all nations not 
accustomed to books, the distribution of small Tracts, writ- 
ten in an easy style, or of single Gospels, is much more 
likely to do good than that of larger works. This opinion is 
strengthened by the experience and observation of every 
day." Nor are the preceding suggestions founded in mere 
theory, but warranted by facts. 

The amount of good already achieved by the distribu- 
tion of Tracts is incalculable. Much has been done, in 
this and other countries, to afford the most satisfactory evi- 
dence of their beneficial effects. The most interesting ac- 
counts accumulate upon us from every quarter where Tracts 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC. 7 

are circulated, either in Christian or pagan lands, of their 
extended utility. It is impossible to recite them. Volumes 
might be profitably occupied with the most interesting nar- 
ratives of this sort. There is not a week in which we have 
not striking accounts of their happy results. Some years 
ago, the author of the Tract called TJie Dairyman^ s Daugh- 
ter is said to have received information of three hundred 
conversions by the instrumentality of that Tract. Of the 
labors of how many ministers of the Gospel can this be 
said, even though they have extended to very advanced 
age ? Many revivals of religion this little Tract is known 
to have occasioned. The Tract called The Swearer's 
Prayer has been at least equally successful. More than 
twenty instances of conversion by the instrumentality of 
Tracts were reported, with their attending circumstances, 
to the Committee of one Society in the United States, dur- 
ing the year next preceding the formation of this Society, 
besides several revivals of religion occasioned, or greatly 
promoted, by that Society's publications. We are not igno- 
rant of the alarming success with which Voltaire and his 
infidel associates on the continent of Europe, and elsewhere, 
proved the efficacy of this method of access to the common 
people, in producing one of the most terrible moral convul- 
sions which have ever shaken the world. And we are not 
ignorant of the success of men of a different spirit, in those 
well-directed efforts in the cause of Tracts, by which the 
continent began to be enlightened and reformed, in the days 
of the great Reformation. 

But these laudable efforts, notwithstanding all they have 
achieved, have come short of the exigences of the world, 
and have, in no small degree, failed of their object, through 
a divided and partial operation. It has long been a doubt- 
ful point whether Christians of different denominations 
could unite their efforts beyond the single endeavor of 



8 ADDRESS TO 

distributing the Holy Scriptures " without note or com- 
ment." And yet the "body of Christ " is one. In all that 
pertains to the essential principles of Christianity, it can- 
not be otherwise than that there exists a union of affection 
and sentiment among all good men, by whatever name they 
may be called ; and we are persuaded this harmony exists 
to a degree beyond the anticipations not only of the more 
vigilant and cautious, but of the more indulgent and liberal. 
All good men receive the Holy Scriptures as containing a 
complete and entire system of divine truth, by whose uner- 
ring standard every opinion is to be tried and decided. 
So long as they love the Bible, they cannot be at war 
with one another. And so long as they believe the truths 
of the Bible, are they united in their religious sentiments. 
We do not mean by this to become the abettors of that 
modern liberality which discovers no difference between the 
precious and the vile, and which consists in a virtual indif- 
ference to all religious opinions. To us it appears that the 
authority of the Divine Legislator extends to the under- 
standings of men, as well as their conduct, and that they 
have no more right to believe what is false than to practise 
what is wrong. But we do believe that if good men beheld 
each other's goodness through a near medium, and one less 
obscured, they would be more under the direction of a 
reciprocated confidence, and their prejudices and fears 
would melt away before the benignant influence of holy 
love. And we do mean to affirm, that were there a more 
scrupulous regard to the infallible judgment of God, and a 
less scrupulous regard to the fallible judgment of men ; if 
the rivalship of denomination were merged in the rivalship 
of benevolent enterprise ; if the fear of God and the love of 
Jesus Christ ; if a tender compassion for the salvation of 
sinners, and a tender affection towards all the friends of the 
Redeemer, were the paramount principles of action, chilling 



the I 
one 
good 
in uil 
I 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC. 9 

alienations would pass away, heart- burning suspicions 
woii'ld find no place, mutual criminations would be sup- 
pressed, more importance would be attached to the things 
in ^hich we agree, and less to those in which we differ; 
ther i would be more of the soul of union ; and while the 
eneqiies of our religion would be again constrained to bear 
lonorable testimony, " See how these Christians love 
another," we ourselves should sing, "Behold how 
and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together 
ity !" 

is obvious that the only difficulty in forming a Tract 
Soci( ty upon these enlarged principles, lies in the doctrinal 
charicter of the Tracts to be circulated. On this subject 
the ifiost full and liberal provision is made in the Constitu- 
tion jof the American Tract Society. The different de- 
nominations composing the Publishing Committee come to 
thei|- work with the solemn and honest stipulation to be each 
the protector of his own peculiarities ; and in this labor of 
me/cy to publish and distribute such Tracts only as shall 
indulcate those great doctrines in which they all harmo- 
nise. Man's native sinfulness — the purity and obligation 
o/' the law of God — the true and proper Divinity of our 
,Lord Jesus Christ — the necessity and reality of his atone- 
ment and sacrifice — the efficiency of the Holy Spirit in the 
work of renovation — the free and full offers of the Gospel, 
and the duty of men to accept it — the necessity of personal 
holiness — as well as an everlasting state of rewards and 
punishments beyond the grave — these are doctrines dear to 
our hearts, and constitute the basis of our union. And who 
does not see, that, in the present state of our own country 
and the world, there is a wide sphere of successful opera- 
tions, in simply diffusing these and other kindred truths in 
which we agree ? It is hoped that the Publishing Com- 
mittee, agreeably to the suggestion of the esteemed Presi- 



10 ADDRESS TO 

dent of the Society, in his first official address, will <' ever 
bear in mind the high responsibility of their office ; and 
always feel that, as the eternal destinies of souls may hang 
upon their deliberations and measures, no Tract should 
ever be issued from the Depository of this Society which 
does not contain, should it find its way where a Bible was 
never seen, nor the Gospel ever heard, enough of Divine 
truth to guide the ignorant and inquiring sinner into the 
path of eternal life." 

If in any instance we should hesitate about the terms in 
which any truth should be expressed, we may always be 
relieved from our embarrassment by resorting to the terms 
of the Bible, and adopting the very language of the spirit 
of all truth. The Committee cannot feel that this is a vis- 
ionary enterprise. They no longer regard it as a doubtful 
experiment. On the most matured view of all the difficul- 
ties they can anticipate, they are persuaded that it is a 
practicable and high-born undertaking. The indications 
of Divine Providence have so manifestly led to it, that 
though they have all admitted some anxious speculations, 
they dare not hesitate. It is with deep-felt gratitude and 
delight that they have watched the superintendence of the 
Holy Spirit over this novel and hopeful attempt ; and al- 
ready do they indulge the expectation, that, under the same 
refreshing influence, the riches of the harvest will corre- 
spond with the splendor of this early promise. Who can 
tell but the time is drawing near, when the different sec- 
tions of the church of God on earth shall be " perfectly 
joined together in the same mind and the same judgment;" 
and that without either embracing or propagating error, or 
suppressing the truth, (and without withholding their cen- 
sure from all who believe "another Gospel,") they shall 
imbibe that amiable and conciliating temper whose attrac- 
tive influence shall allure them to concentrated efforts in 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC. 11 

every labor of love ? Who can tell but the present is an 
instance of harmony and cooperation which will prepare 
the way for other and more important instances, when in 
unity of faith and unity of spirit, no benevolent enterprise 
shall fail through the discordancy of Christians ; and when 
in every cause that demands prompt and extended coope- 
ration, the friends of the Redeemer shall know how to 
combine their energies against the common foe ? Who 
will not say, " The Lord hasten it in his time !" " Thy 
watchmen shall lift up the voice ; with the voice together 
shall they sing ; for they shall see eye to eye, lolien the Lord 
shall bring again Zion.^' 

Peculiar advantages, it appears to the Committee, will 
result from the formation of a great Institution whose ope- 
rations shall extend over our whole country, and, as far as 
practicable, even beyond its limits. The two-fold union 
of various local institutions, and of Christians of different 
denominations, all applying their powers in a common direc- 
tion, and uniting the concurrence and feeling of this 
free and enterprising nation, appears to be the only mea- 
sure which can secure all the energy of operation that is 
needed. The world at large, the adjacent states of South 
America, the islands of the West Indies, and our own 
United States in particular, present a vast and inviting 
field for the exertions of a Society combining the efforts of 
the whole Christian community. Our own country contains 
a population of more than eleven millions, scattered over 
an extent of more than one million of square miles, every 
hour becoming a more numerous and more reading popula- 
tion. Four millions of this population consist of children ; 
and under the operation of the system of Common Schools 
which is adopted in many of the states, aided by the influ- 
ence of Sabbath schools established in all, how compara- 
tively easy is it to extend the power of moral and religious 



12 ADDRESS TO 

instruction, through the medium of Tracts, to these flour- 
ishing nurseries of the Church and the State. Should God 
lift his smile upon the Society, it will speak to the remoter 
corners of the globe. The purpose of its conductors is, to 
publish Tracts in various languages, and to be heralds of 
Divine mercy, not to our own population only, or to the 
provinces of our Northern and Southern frontier, but to 
Eastern and Western Asia and the Southern Ocean. But 
how can this be accomplished without a more generous and 
undivided impulse ? Every new Institution, also, of such 
character, exerts a happy influence on our national union, 
and is a new accession of the best and strongest affections 
of the human heart, gathered from the remotest parts of the 
land, to "lengthen the cords and strengthen the stakes" 
that bind together the body politic ; so that, while public 
opinion maintains its existing ascendency, every new ac- 
cession of diflusive benevolence will render it more and 
more difficult for the spirit of faction or usurpation to sever 
this cemented country. And so long as public opinion 
maintains its existing supremacy, who does not feel the 
immense importance of moulding it by a moral and relig- 
ious influence, and of securing and augmenting our civil 
and political liberties by the most unconfined diffusion of 
the lights of science and religion throughout a community 
whose political existence depends on the intelligence, and, 
more especially, on the integrity of the people ? We might 
add to these considerations that, should approved Tracts be 
supplied to the nation from one general establishment, one 
set of stereotype plates, and one set of engravings, one 
Board of Managers and Officers, and one centre of trans- 
portation, the economy of such a measure in all the expen- 
ditures and labors of the Society must be a powerful 
argument in favor of the union. Tracts are now exceed- 
ingly cheap, but the Committee are greatly deceived if the 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC. 13 

formation of the American Tract Society does not render 
them cheaper than they now are, and if the parent Deposi- 
tory is not able to supply the country at a lower rate than 
they can be supplied by the local Societies. And why 
should the establishment of a general Institution diminish 
the zeal of the local Societies ? Are they not all moving 
forward from the desire of doing good, and under the para- 
mount impulse to what is best ? Has the National Bible 
Society diminished the zeal of the local Bible Societies ? 
With the Divine blessing on the American Tract Society, 
the Committee have little doubt that a course will be pur- 
sued which, by augmenting the zeal of the whole, will 
augment the zeal of the parts ; which, while it shall secure 
the confidence, will concentrate the unabated and increased 
efforts of the nation ; and which, while it invigorates the 
heart, will pour its life-blood, with accelerated force, 
through every artery and vein. 

The city of New- York, eminently distinguished by its 
natural and local advantages, its accumulating population, 
and its increasing commercial prosperity and influence, 
seems destined, in the wisdom of Divine Providence, to be- 
come the centre of these extended operations. If the signs 
of the times call for a general Institution, where might we 
look for the seat of its operations, unless where there are 
greater facilities of ingress and egress, and more extended, 
constant, and direct intercommunications with foreign ports, 
and every part of our interior, than are to be found in any 
other locality in the nation ? When the canals which are 
now in progress shall be completed, there will be a direct 
inland water communication between this port and every 
village of note in the extended country to the West of the 
Alleghany mountains. Already one-third part of all the 
foreign goods brought into the United States are entered 
at this port, and here put up for merchants in every part 



14 ADDRESS TO 

of the Union. Merchants assemble here, and opportunities 
are constantly presented for sending Tracts, at a very small 
expense, and very frequently at no expense at all, to the 
remotest parts of the land, and of engaging the proper per- 
sons to use their influence in distributing them. And it is 
hoped that the increasing and well-directed zeal in Benev- 
olent Institutions which has been manifested by our citizens 
for a few past years, and especially the interest which has 
recently been awakened in the Tract cause, affords the 
community some pledge of persevering exertion in this 
responsible work, which will be effectually redeemed. 
We are sensible that the eyes of good men in the country 
are directed towards us, and that they have a right to 
expect that every man engaged in this important business 
will do his duty. 

The formation of the American Tract Society, there- 
fore, in the city of New-York, we cannot but hope, is an 
event which will be regarded with interest by all the friends 
of our common Lord. This union forms a new era in the 
history of the American churches ; and the auspices under 
which it has been consummated are certainly of bright 
augury. We respectfully solicit the favor of the Christian 
community, not for our sakes, but his who " died for us 
and rose again." To Ministers and churches — to Societies 
already in existence, and to communities where Auxiliary 
Associations may be formed — to wealthy individuals whom 
God has made the stewards and almoners of his bounty — 
to benevolent males and females, we would affectionately 
and urgently say, Co7ne and help us. The enterprise in 
which we are engaged, though among the most noiseless, 
may be ranked among the most noble exploits of the age in 
M hich we live. It cannot be carried forward without har- 
mony of design and united perseverance and zeal ; and " it 
is good to be zealously affected in a good thing." We feel 



THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC. 15 

justified in soliciting, for the object we pursue, your 
fixed and steady attention, your strong and ardent affec- 
tions, your hearty and vigorous cooperation. There is 
great weight and influence in our design ; and though 
there may be difficulties, and even dangers, in our way, 
we cherish sanguine expectations of the Divine favor and 
blessing. 

We live, fellow-citizens, at an eventful period of the 
world. The purposes of God's mercy appear to be rapidly 
unfolding, and rapidly and surely advancing towards their 
final issue. New scenes are already opening upon the 
world and upon the church ; and the " enterprise to be 
achieved is the conversion of the world to its Redeeming 
God and King." In this vast and arduous enterprise no 
portion of mankind are bound to feel a deeper interest than 
the people of these United States. The state of our coun- 
try is one of unparalleled prosperity. At peace among 
ourselves and with all nations, our population is becoming 
" as the sand which is by the sea, in multitude." Our in- 
dustry and wealth are giving this favored people a high 
elevation in the catalogue of nations. The light of science 
and the arts is diffusing its influence through every part of 
our growing republic. Our plans of internal improvement 
and public utility are raising our dignity and glory in the 
view of future ages ; and our happy religion, born of God, 
descended from heaven, and dwelling in undisturbed secu- 
rity in this Western World, has already exerted its efficient 
power in forming here a people for his praise. The Com- 
mittee indulge the hope that great multitudes in this happy 
portion of the globe will enrol their names among the pa- 
trons of this institution and the benefactors of mankind. 
They know that the enterprise in which they are engaged is 
one which cannot prosper, unless the God of all the earth 
control and prosper it. They earnestly solicit an interest 



16 



ADDRESS TO THE CHRISTIAN PUBLIC, 



in your prayers as well as your benefactions. To them it 
is a delightful thought that the cause is God's, and depend- 
ent absolutely on him. " Not hy might, nor by power, hut by 
my Spirit, saiih the Lord of hosts P^ This is their motto. 
We cannot hope too much from God. In the name of God 
alone they begin and go forward, confiding always in that 
divine guidance and favor, which in all their toil shall be 
invoked by prayer, and in all their success be honored with 
thanksgiving. 

Signed in behalf of the Executive Committee of the 
American Tract Society. 



JAMES MILNOR, 
GARDINER SPRING, 
JOHN KNOX, 
JUSTIN EDWARDS, 
CHARLES G. SOMMERS 
JOHN SUMMERFIELD, J 



Committee, 



New- York. June, 1825. 



No. 2. 



THE 



WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 



BY REV. ROBERT HALL, A. M. 



The regeneration, and growth in holiness, of every 
Christian, are to be primarily attributed to the operation of 
the Holy Spirit. Without this, nothing can be done or at- 
tained, to any important purpose, in religion. Your candid 
attention is requested to a few hints respecting the means 
connected w^ith the enjoyment of that blessed influence. 
The numerous cautions, warnings, and advices, with which 
the mention of this subject is joined in the Scriptures, are 
sufficient to show that the doctrine of which it treats is a 
practical doctrine, not designed to supersede the use of 
means, or the exercise of our rational powers, but rather to 
stimulate us to exertion, and teach us how to exert them 
aright. " If ye live in the Spirit, walk in the Spirit. 
Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed 
to the day of redemption." 

The Spirit, we must remember, is a most free agent; 
and though he does not utterly forsake his work, he may 
be expected to withdraw himself, in a great measure, on 
being slighted, neglected, or opposed ; and as our holiness 
and comfort depend entirely upon him, it is important for 
us to know what deportment is calculated to invite, and 
what to repel, his presence. 



2 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

1. If we would wish for much of the presence of God 
by his Spirit, we should learn to set a high value upon it. 
The Lord seems to regulate his conduct by a rule, that of 
bestowing his richest favors where he knows they are most 
coveted, and will be most prized. The principle whence 
divine communications flow, is free, unmerited benignity ; 
but in the mode of dispensing its fruits, it is worthy of the 
Supreme Ruler to consult his own majesty, by withholding 
a copious supply, till he has excited in the heart a profound 
estimation of his gifts. 

No words are adequate to express the excellence and 
dignity of the gift of the Divine Spirit. While Solomon 
was dedicating the temple, his great soul appears to have 
been put into a rapture at the very idea, that He whom the 
heaven of heavens could not contain, should deign to dwell 
with man upon the earth. How much more should each of 
us be transported, when he finds the idea realized, by his own 
heart having become the seat of the divine presence. There 
are two considerations drawn from Scripture, which assist 
us in forming a conception of the magnitude of this blessing. 
The first is, that it is the great promise of the Christian 
dispensation, and stands in nearly the same relation to us, 
that the coming of the Messiah did to pious Jews. They 
waited for the consolation of Israel in the birth of Christ ; 
and now that that event is past, we are waiting, in a similar 
manner, for the promise of the Spirit, of which the church 
has hitherto enjoyed but the first fruits. To this, the Sav- 
iour after his resurrection pointed the expectation of his 
apostles, as emphatically the promise of the Father which 
they were to receive at the distance of a few days ; and 
when it was accomplished at the day of Pentecost, we find 
Peter insisting on it as the most illustrious proof of his as- 
cension, as well as the chief fruit that converts were to reap 
from their repentance and baptism. " Repent and be bap- 
tized," said he, " every one of vou, in the name of Jesus 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 3 

Christ, for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift 
of the Holy Ghost : for the promise (that is, the promise of 
the Spirit) is to you, and to your children, and to all that are 
afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call." The 
apostle Paul places it in a similar light, when he tells us, 
" Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, being 
made a curse for us, that the blessing of Abraham might 
come upon the Gentiles:" and in what that blessing con- 
sists, he informs us, by adding, " that we might receive the 
promise of the Spirit by faith." On this account, probably, 
he is styled the Spirit of Promise, that is, the Spirit so often 
promised ; in the communication of whom, the promises of 
God so centre, that it may be considered as the sum and 
substance of all the promises. 

Another consideration, which evinces the supreme im- 
portance of this gift, is, that, in the esteem of our Lord, it 
was more than a compensation to his disciples for the loss 
of his bodily presence ; so much superior to it, that he tells 
them, it was expedient he should leave them, in order to 
make way for it : " If I go not away, the Comforter will 
not come unto you ; but if I depart, I will send him unto 
you." Great as the advantages were, which they derived 
from his society, they yet remained in a state of minority ; 
their views were contracted, their hearts full of earthly 
adhesions, and a degree of carnality and prejudice attend- 
ed them, which it was the ofRce of the Spirit only to re- 
move. From his more ample and effectual teaching, a 
great increase of knowledge was to accrue, to qualify them 
for their work of bearing witness to Christ, and a powerful 
energy to go forth, which was to render their ministry, 
though in themselves so much inferior, far more successful 
than the personal ministry of our Lord. In consequence 
of his agency, the apostles were to become enlightened and 
intrepid, and the world convinced. " I have many things 
to say to you, but ye cannot bear them now. But when 



4 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

the Spirit of truth is come, he will lead you into all truth. 
He will convince the world of sin, of righteousness, and of 
judgment." Accordingly, after his descent, we find the 
apostles wonderfully transformed ; an unction, a fervor, a 
boldness, marked their character, to which they had hith- 
erto been strangers ; and such conviction attended their 
preaching, that in a short time a great part of the world 
yielded to the weapons of their holy warfare. Nor is there 
any pretence for alleging that this communication was con- 
fined to miraculous gifts, since it is asserted to be that Spirit 
which should abide in them for ever, and by which the 
church should be distinguished from the world. He is styled 
" The Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, be- 
cause it seeth him not, neither knoweth him :" but it is added, 
*' Ye know him, for he dwelleth in you and shall be in you." 

As we are indebted to the Spirit for the first formation 
of the divine life, so it is He alone who can maintain it, 
and render it strong and vigorous. It is his office to actu- 
ate the habits of grace where they are already planted ; to 
hold our souls in life, and to " strengthen us that we may 
walk up and down in the name of the Lord." It is his 
office to present the mysteries of salvation, the truths which 
relate to the mediation of Christ and the riches of his grace, 
in so penetrating and transforming a manner, as to render 
them vital, operating principles, the food and the solace of 
our spirits. Without his agency, however intrinsically ex- 
cellent, they will be to us mere dead speculation, an inert 
mass ; it is only when they are animated by his breath, 
that they become spirit and life. 

It is his office to afford that anointing by which we may 
know all things by a light which is not merely directive to 
the understanding, but which so shines upon the heart, as 
to give a relish of the sweetness of divine truth, and effect- 
ually produce a compliance with its dictates. It belongs 
to him "to seal us to the day of redemption," to put that 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 5 

mark and character upon us which distinguishes the chil- 
dren of God, as well as to afford a foretaste and an earnest 
of the future inheritance. " And hereby," saith an apos- 
tle, " we know that we are of God, by the Spirit which he 
hath given us." It is his office to subdue the corruption of 
our nature, not by leaving us inactive spectators of the 
combat, but by engaging us to a determined resistance to 
every sinful propensity, by teaching our hands to war, and 
our fingers to fight, so that the victory shall be ours, and 
the praise his. To help the infirmities of saints, who know 
not what to pray for as they ought, by making intercession 
for them " with groanings which cannot be uttered," is an 
important branch of his office. He kindles their desires, 
gives them a glimpse of the fulness of God, that all-com- 
prehending good ; and b^ exciting a relish of the beauties 
of holiness, and the ineffable pleasure which springs from 
nearness to God, disposes them to the fervent and effectual 
prayer which availeth much. In short, as Christ is the 
way to the Father, so it is equally certain, that the Spirit is 
the fountain of all the light and strength which enable us 
to walk in that way. Lest it should be suspected that in 
ascribing so much to the agency of the Spirit, we diminish 
the obligations we owe to the Redeemer, it may not be 
improper to remark, that the tendency of what we have 
advanced, rightly understood, will be just the contrary; 
since the Scriptures constantly i-emind us, that the gift 
of the Holy Ghost is the fruit of his mediation, and the 
result of his death. It was his interposing as " Emman- 
uel, God with us," to repair the breach betwixt man and 
God, that prevailed upon the Father to communicate the 
Spirit to such as believe on him, and to intrust the whole 
agency of it to his hands. As the reward of his suffer- 
ings, he ascended on high, and received gifts for men ; of 
which the right of bestowing the Spirit is the principal, 
that the Lord God might dwell among them. The donation, 

VOL. I. 2 



6 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

in every instance, through the successive periods of the 
church, looks back to the death of the Redeemer, as the 
root and principle whence it takes its rise, and consequently 
is calculated to enlarge our conceptions of his office and 
character, as the copiousness of the streams evinces the ex- 
uberance of the fountain. To him the Spirit was first given 
above measure ; in him it resides as an inexhaustible spring 
to be imparted in the dispensation of his Gospel to every 
member of his mystical body, in pursuance of the purpose 
of his grace and the ends of his death. It is Ms Spirit ; 
hence we read of " the supply of the Spirit of Christ Jesus ;" 
not only by reason of the essential union which subsists 
between the persons of the Godhead, but because the right 
of bestowing it was ascertained to him in the covenant of 
redemption. 

2. If we would wish to enjoy much of the light and influ- 
ence of the Spirit, we must seek it hy fervent prayer. There 
are peculiar encouragements held out in the word of God 
to this purpose. " Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye 
shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." To 
illustrate the readiness of our heavenly Father to bestow 
this blessing, our Lord borrows a comparison from the in- 
stinct of parental affection, which prompts a parent to give 
with alacrity good things to his children. He will not mere- 
ly supply their wants, which benevolence might prompt 
him to do with respect to a stranger ; but he will do it with 
feelings peculiar to the parental relation, and will experi- 
ence as much pleasure in conferring, as the child in re- 
ceiving, his favors. It is thus with our heavenly Father. 
He delights in exercising kindness to his children, and es- 
pecially in promoting their spiritual welfare. He gives, 
not merely with the liberality of a prince, but with the heart 
of a father. It is worth remarking, that in relating the 
preceding discourse, while one evangelist makes express 
mention of the Spirit, anothei' speaks only of good things, 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 7 

intimating that the communications of the Spirit compre- 
hend whatever is good. Other things may, or may not, be 
ultimately beneficial : they are either of a doubtful nature 
in themselves, or are rendered so by the propensity our 
corruption gives us to abuse them. But the influence of 
the Spirit, by its efficacy in subduing that corruption, must 
be invariably beneficial : it is such an immediate emana- 
tion from God, the fountain of blessedness, that it can never 
fail of being intrinsically, essentially, and eternally good. 
It is also deserving our attention, that the injunction of 
seeking it by prayer is prefaced by a parable constructed 
on purpose to teach us the propriety of urging our suit with 
importunity. In imploring other gifts, (which we are at 
liberty to do with submission,) it is still a great point of 
duty to moderate our desires, and to be prepared for a dis- 
appointment, because, as we have already remarked, it is 
possible that the things we are seeking may conduce nei- 
ther to the glory of God nor to our ultimate benefit ; " for 
who knoweth what is good for man, all the days of his vain 
life ?" But when we present our requests for a larger 
measure of his grace, we labor under no such uncertainty : 
we may safely let forth all the ardor and vehemence of our 
spirits, since our desires are fixed upon what is the very 
knot and juncture, where the honor of God and the inter- 
ests of his creatures are indissolubly united. Desires after 
grace are, in fact, desires after God ; and how is it possible 
for them to be too vehement or intense, when directed to 
such an object ? His gracious presence is not, like the 
limited goods of this life, fitted to a particular crisis, or 
adapted to a special exigency, in a fluctuating scene of 
things ; it is equally suited to all times and seasons, the 
food of souls, the proper good of man, under every aspect 
of Providence, and every change of worlds. " My soul," 
said David, " panteth after God, yea, for the living God. 
My soul followeth hard after thee ; thy right hand uphold- 



8 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

eth me." The most eminent effusions of the Spirit we read 
of in Scripture, were not only afforded to prayer, but ap- 
pear to have taken place at the very time that exercise was 
performed. The descent of the Holy Ghost on the day of 
Pentecost, was while the disciples were with one accord in 
one place ; and after the imprisonment of Peter and John, 
who, being dismissed, went to their own company, " While 
they prayed, the place where they were assembled was 
shaken with a mighty wind, and they were all filled with 
the Holy Ghost." When a new heart and a new spirit are 
promised in Ezekiel, it is added, " I will yet for this be 
inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for theni." 

3. Habitual dependence on divine injiuence is an impor- 
tant duty. This may be considered as opposed to two 
things : first, to depending on ourselves, to the neglect of 
divine agency ; next, to despondency and distrust. 

When the Holy Spirit has condescended to take the con- 
duct of souls, it is unquestionably great presumption to en- 
ter upon duty in the same manner as if no such assistance 
were needed, or to be expected ; and the I'esult will be as 
with Samson, who said, "I will go forth and shake myself, 
as in times past ; and he wist not that the Lord was de- 
parted from him." It is one thing to acknowledge a de- 
pendence on heavenly influence in speculation, and another 
thing so to realize and feel it, as to say from the heart, 
" I will go in the strength of the Lord God." A mere as- 
sent to the proposition, that the Spirit must concur in the 
production of every great work — an assent not easily with- 
held without rejecting the Scriptures — falls very short of 
the practical homage due from feeble worms to so great an 
Agent ; and a most solemn and explicit acknowledgment 
of entire dependence may reasonably be expected. When 
you engage in prayer, or in any other duty, endeavor to 
enter upon it with a serious and deliberate recollection of 
your need of the Spirit. Let the consciousness of your 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 9 

weakness and insufficiency for every good work, be a sen- 
timent rendered familiar to your minds, and deeply im- 
pressed on your hearts. 

But while we recommend this, there is another extreme 
against which we think it our duty to guard you, and that is, 
a disposition to despondency and distrust. We are most 
ready to acknowledge that the assistance you need is free 
and gratuitous, neither given to our deservings, nor flow- 
ing from any connection subsisting betwixt our endeav- 
ors and the exertion of divine agency. The Spirit of 
God is a free Spirit ; and it is impossible to conceive how 
either faith or prayer should have an intrinsic efficacy in 
drawing down influence from heaven. There is, however, 
a connection established by divine vouchsafement, which 
entitles believers to expect, in the use of means, such 
measures of gracious assistance as are requisite to sustain 
and support them in their religious course. The Spirit is 
spoken of as the matter of promise to which every Chris- 
tian is encouraged to look : '' The promise is to you and 
to your children, and to all that are afar off, even to as 
many as the Lord our God shall call." Agreeably to this, 
it is represented as the express purpose of Christ's becom- 
ing a curse for us, that the " promise of the Spirit might 
come on the Gentiles through faith." The same expecta- 
tion is justified by the Saviour's own declaration, when on 
the last and great day of the feast he stood and cried, " If 
any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink ; for he that 
believeth on me, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living 
water : this," says the evangelist, " he spake of the Spirit, 
which they that believe on him should receive." 

The readiness of the Holy Spirit to communicate him- 
self to true believers, is also evinced by the tenor of evan- 
gelical precepts : " Be ye strong in the Lord, and in the 
power of his might." To command a person to be strong, 
seems strange and unusual language, but it is sufficiently 



10 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

explained when we reflect, that a portion of spiritual 
power is ready to be communicated to those who duly 
seek it : " Be ye filled with the Spirit," which is the ex- 
hortation of the same apostle, takes it for granted that a 
copious supply is at hand, sufficient to satisfy the desires 
of the saints. We are at a loss to account for such pre- 
cepts, without supposing an established connection betwixt 
the condition of believers and the further communication 
of divine influence. To the same purport Paul speaks 
with apostolic authority, " This I say, walk in the Spirit, 
and ye shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh ;" and Jude 
inculcates the duty of praying in the Holy Ghost, which 
would be strange if no assistance w^ere to be obtained ; and 
as prayer is a duty of daily occurrence, the injunction im- 
plies that it is ready to be imparted to Christians, not by 
fits and starts, or at distant intervals, but in a stated, regu- 
lar course. 

For this reason, when we hear Christians complaining 
of the habitual withdrawment of the Divine presence, we are 
under the necessity of ascribing it to their own fault : not 
that we mean to deny there is much of sovereignty in this 
affair, or that " the Spirit, like the wind, bloweth where 
it listeth." But it should be remembered, we are now ad- 
verting to the situation of real believers, w^ho are entitled 
to the promise ; and though it is probable that there is 
much of sovereignty exercised even with respect to them, 
we apprehend it rather concerns those influences which 
are consolatory, than such as are sanctifying ; for, though 
there is a degree of satisfaction intermingled with every 
exercise of genuine piety, yet it is manifest that some in- 
fluences of the Spirit tend more immediately to comfort, 
others to purification. By some we are engaged in the 
fixed contemplation of objects which exist out of ourselves, 
the perfections of God, the excellency of Christ, the ad- 
mirable constitution of the Gospel, accompanied with a de- 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 11 

lightful conviction of a personal interest in whatever comes 
under our view; the natural fruit of which is "joy un- 
speakable and full of glory." By others we are more im- 
mediately impressed with a lasting sense of our extreme 
unworthiness, and made to mourn over remaining corrup- 
tion, and the criminal defects inherent in our best services. 

In the midst of such exercises, it is possible that hope 
may languish, and comfort be reduced to a low ebb, yet the 
divine life may still be advancing, and the soul growing 
in humility, deadness to the world, and the mortification 
of her own will, as the sap during winter retires to the 
root of the plant, ready to ascend and produce verdure 
and beauty on the return of spring. This is the will of 
God, even our sanctification ; and though he delights in 
comforting his people at proper seasons, he is much less 
intent on this, than on promoting their spiritual improve- 
ment, to which, in their state of discipline, everything is 
made subservient. Let us not then confound the decay of 
consolation with the decay of piety, nor imagine we can 
want the aids necessary to prevent the latter, unless we 
have forfeited them by presumption, negligence, and sloth. 
Whenever Christians sensibly decline in religion, they 
ought to charge themselves with the guilt of having grieved 
the Spirit ; they should take the alarm, repent, and do their 
first works ; they are suifering under the rebukes of that 
paternal justice which God exercises in his own family. 
Such a measure of gracious assistance in the use of means, 
as is requisite for their comfortable walk with God, being 
by the tenor of the new covenant ascertained to real Chris- 
tians, to find it withheld should engage them in deep 
searchings of heart, and make them fear lest, " a promise 
being left them of entering into rest, they should appear to 
come short of it." But this leads us to observe, in the last 
place, that, 

4. If we wish to enjoy the light of the Spirit, we must 



12 THE WOKK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

take care to maintain a deportment suited to the character 
of that Divine Agent. When the apostle exhorts us not to 
grieve the Spirit of God, by which ^\e are sealed to the 
day of redemption, it is forcibly implied, that he is suscep- 
tible of offence, and that to offend him involves heinous 
ingratitude and folly : ingratitude — for what a requital is 
this for being sealed to the day of redemption ! and folly — 
inasmuch as we may fitly say on this, as Paul did on a dif- 
ferent occasion, " Who is he that maketh us glad, but the 
same that is made sorry by us ?" Have we any other 
comforter when he is withdrawn ? Can a single ray of 
light visit us in his absence, or can we be safe for a mo- 
ment without his guidance and support ? If the immense 
and infinite Spirit, by a mysterious condescension, deigns 
to undertake the conduct of a worm, ought it not to yield 
the most implicit submission ? The appropriate duty ow- 
ed to a faithful and experienced guide, is a ready com- 
pliance with his dictates; and how much more may this 
be expected, when the disparity betwixt the parties in 
question is no less than infinite.. The language of the Holy 
Spirit, in describing the conduct of the ancient Israelites, is 
awfully monitory to professors in every age : " They re- 
belled, and vexed his Holy Spirit ; therefore he turned to 
be their enemy, and fought against them." As we wish 
to avoid whatever is more curious than useful, we shall 
not stay to inquire precisely on what occasions, or to what 
extent, the Spirit is capable of being resisted; it may be 
sufficient to observe, it is evident from melancholy experi- 
ence, that it is very possible to neglect what is tlie obvious 
tendency of his motions, which is invariably to produce 
universal holiness. " The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, 
peace, long-suffering, goodness, meekness, gentleness, tem- 
perance, faith." Whatever is contrary to these, involves 
an opposition to the Spirit, and is directly calculated to 
quench his sacred influence. 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 13 

From his descending on Christ in the form of a dove, as 
well as from many express declarations of Scripture, we 
may with certainty conclude the indulgence of all the iras- 
cible and malignant passions to be peculiarly repugnant to 
his nature ; and it is remarkable, that the injunction of 
not grieving the Holy Spirit is immediately followed by a 
particular caution against cherishing such dispositions : 
" Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, 
and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice. 
And be ye kind one to another, tender-heartedj forgiving 
one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven 
you." Have you not found by experience, that the indul- 
gence of the former has destroyed that selfrrecollection 
and composure, which are so essential to devotion ? Vin- 
dictive passions surround the soul with a sort of turbulent 
atmosphere, than which nothing can be conceived more 
opposite to that calm and holy light in which the blessed 
Spirit loves to dwell. The indulgence of sensual lusts, or 
of whatever enslaves the soul to the appetites of the body, 
in violation of the rules of sobriety and chastity, it seems 
almost unnecessary to add, must have a direct tendency to 
quench his sacred influences ; wherever such desires pre- 
vail, they war against the soul, immerse it in carnality, and 
utterly indispose it to everything spiritual and heavenly. 
"That which is born of the Spirit, is spirit;" it bears a 
resemblance to its Author, in being a spiritual production, 
which requires to be nourished by divine meditation, by 
pure and holy thoughts. 

If you wish to live in the fellowship of the Spirit, you 
must guard with no less care against the encroachments of 
worldly-mindedness, recollecting we are Christians just as 
far as our treasure and our hearts are planted in heaven, 
and no further. A heart overcharged with the cares of 
this world, is as much disqualified for converse with God, 
and for walking in the Spirit, as it would be by surfeiting 

VOL. I. O.^ 



14 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

and drunkenness; to which, by their tendency to intoxi- 
cate and stupefy, they bear a great resemblance. 

How many, by an immoderate attachment to wealth, 
and by being determined at all events to become rich, 
" have fallen into divers foolish and hurtful lusts, and 
pierced themselves through with many sorrows !" and 
where the result has not been so signally disastrous, a visi- 
ble languor in religion has ensued, the friendship of seri- 
ous Christians has been shunned, and the public ordinances 
of religion attended with little fruit or advantage. As it 
is the design of the Spirit, in his sacred visitations, to form 
us for an habitual converse with spiritual and eternal ob- 
jects, nothing can tend more directly to counteract it, than 
to bury our souls in earth ; it is as impossible for the eye 
of the mind as for that of the body to look opposite ways 
at once; nor can we aim supremely at "the things which 
are seen and temporal," but by losing sight of those " which 
are unseen and eternal." 

But though a general attention to the duties of piety 
and virtue, and a careful avoidance of the sins opposed to 
these, are certainly included in a becoming deportment to 
the Holy Spirit, perhaps it is not all that is included. The 
children of God are characterized in Scripture by their 
being " led by the Spirit :" led — evidently not impelled, nor 
driven forward in a headlong course, without choice or 
design ; but being, by the constitution of their nature, ra- 
tional and intelligent, and by the influence of grace ren- 
dered spiritual, they are disposed to obey at a touch, and to 
comply with the gentler insinuations of divine grace ; they 
are ready to take that precise impression which corre- 
sponds with the mind and purpose of the Spirit. You are 
aware of what consequence it is in worldly concerns to 
embrace opportunities, and to improve critical seasons ; 
and thus, in the things of the Spirit, there are times pe- 
culiarly favorable, moments of happy visitation, when 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SFIKIT. 15 

much more may be done towards the advancement of our 
spiritual interest than usual. There are gales of the 
Spirit, unexpected influences of light and power, which no 
assiduity in the means of grace can command, but which 
it is a great point of wisdom to improve. If the husband- 
man is attentive to the vicissitudes of weather, and the face 
of the sky, that he may be prepared to take the full benefit 
of every gleam of sunshine, and every falling shower, how 
much more alert, and attentive should we be in watching 
for those influences from above, which are necessary to 
ripen and mature a far more precious crop ! As the natural 
consequence of being long under the guidance of another, 
is a quick perception of his meaning, so that we can meet 
his wishes before they are verbally expressed ; something 
of this ready discernment, accompanied with instant com- 
pliance, may reasonably be expected from those who pro- 
fess to be habitually led by the Spirit. '• The secret of the 
Lord is with them that fear him." Psalm, 25 : 14. 

The design of his operation is in one view invariably 
the same — the production of holiness ; but the branches of 
which that consists, and the exercises of mind which are 
rendered subservient to it, are various ; and he who is in- 
tent on walking in the Spirit, will be careful to fall in with 
that train of thought, and cherish that cast of reflection, to 
which he is especially invited. For want of niore docility 
in this respect, it is probable, we have often sustained 
loss. Permit us here to suggest two or three heads of in- 
quiry. You have sometimes felt a peculiar seriousness of 
mind, the delusive glare of worldly objects has faded 
away, or become dim before your eyes, and death and eter- 
nity, appearing at the door, have filled the whole field of 
vision. Have you improved such seasons for fixing those 
maxims, and establishing those practical conclusions, which 
may produce an habitual sobriety of mind, when things 
appear under a different aspect ? You have sometimes 



16 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

found, instead of a reluctance to pray, a powerful jmpulse 
to that exercise, so that you felt as if you could do nothing 
else. Have you always complied with these motions, and 
suffered nothing but the claims of absolute necessity to di- 
vert you from pouring out your hearts at a throne of grace ? 
The Spirit is said to make intercession for saints, with 
groanings which cannot be uttered ; when you have felt 
those ineffable longings after God, have you indulged them 
to the utmost ? Have you spread every sail, launched 
forth into the deep of the divine perfections and promises, 
and possessed yourselves, as much as possible, of the ful- 
ness of God ? There are moments when the conscience 
of a good man is more tender, has a nicer and more dis- 
criminating touch, than usual ; the evil of sin in general, 
and of his own in particular, appears in a more clear and 
piercing light. Have you availed yourselves of such sea- 
sons as these for searching into " the chambers of image- 
ry," and while you detected greater and greater abomi- 
nations, been at pains to bring them out and slay them be- 
fore the Lord ? Have such visitations effected something 
towards the mortification of sin 1 Or have they been suf- 
fered to expire in mere ineffectual resolutions ? The fruits 
which godly sorrow produced in the Corinthians are thus 
beautifully portrayed : " What carefulness it wrought in 
you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, yea, what indigna- 
tion, yea, what fear, yea, what vehement desire, yea, what 
revenge !" There are moments in the experience of a 
good man, when he feels a more than ordinary softness 
of mind ; the frost of selfishness dissolves, and his heart 
flows forth in love to God and his fellow-creatures. How 
careful should we be to cherish such a frame, and to em- 
brace the opportunity of subduing resentments, and of heal- 
ing those scars and wounds which it is scarcely possible to 
nvoid in passing through tliis unquiet world. 

There is a holy skill in turning the several parts of 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 17 

Christian experience to account, analogous to what the vo- 
taries of the world display in the improvement of every 
conjuncture from which it is possible to derive emolument ; 
and though the end they propose is mean and contemptible, 
the steadiness with which they pursue it, and their dexterity 
in the choice of means, deserve imitation. In these respects 
" they are wiser in their generation than the children of 
light." 

Do not allow yourselves to indulge in religious sloth, or 
to give way to the solicitations of the tempter, from a con- 
fidence in the safety of your state, or in your spiritual im- 
munities as Christians. The habitual prevalence of such a 
disposition will afford a much stronger proof of insincerity 
than any arguments which can be adduced for the con- 
trary ; and admitting your pretensions to piety to be ever 
so valid, a little reflection may convince you, that a care- 
less and negligent course will lay you open to the severest 
rebukes. " You only have I known," says the Lord by 
the prophet, " of all the families of the earth ; therefore 
will I punish you for all your iniquities." 

Remember, dear brethren, we profess a peculiar rela- 
tion to God, as his children, his witnesses, his people, his 
temple ; the character of that glorious Being, and of his 
religion, will be contemplated by the world, chiefly through 
the medium of our spirit and conduct. Which ought to dis- 
play, as in a mirror, the virtues of Him who " hath called 
you out of darkness into his marvellous light." It is strictly 
appropriate to the subject of our present meditations to 
remind you that you are " temples." " For ye," says the 
apostle, " are the temples of the living God, as God hath 
said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them, and I will be 
their God, and they shall be my people." What purity, 
sanctity, and dignity may be expected in persons who bear 
such a character ! A Christian should look upon himself 
as something sacred and devoted, so that what involves but 



18 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

an ordinary degree of criminality in others, in him par- 
takes of the nature of sacrilege ; what is a breach of trust 
in others, is in him the profanation of a temple. Let us, 
dear brethren, watch and pray, that nothing may be allowed 
a place in our hearts, that is not suitable to the residence 
of the holy and blessed God. Finally, " having such great 
and precious promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse our- 
selves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holi- 
ness in the fear of the Lord." 

Having thus endeavored to lay before you the most 
likely methods of obtaining the communications of the 
Spirit, as well as to show the great importance of this gift, 
we might now dismiss the subject, were we not desirous of 
first guarding you against a dangerous mistake. The mis- 
take to which we refer, is, that of taking conviction for con- 
version, certain impressions of the guilt and danger of sin 
made upon the conscience, for the saving operations of the 
Spirit. These convictions are important : it is highly de- 
sirable and necessary to have a settled persuasion of the 
established connection betwixt sin and punishment, and, as 
a natural consequence, to feel uneasiness and alarm, in 
proportion as we have reason to believe our sins are yet 
unpardoned. Until we see ourselves lost, we shall never 
truly come to Christ for salvation. Until we feel our mal- 
ady, and dread its consequences, we shall never have re- 
course to the Physician, or be willing to comply with his 
pi'escription. We adjure you, therefore, as you value your 
eternal interests, not to trifle with convictions, or to en- 
deavor to wear off" religious concern and uneasiness by the 
vanities of life and the stupefactions of pleasure. Regard 
and cherish them as the sacred visitations of Heaven ; look 
upon them as mercifully designed to rouse and awaken you 
from a fatal stupor. They are often the harbingers of 
mercy. Wherever the Spirit of God is in reality, he will 
convince of sin ; but conviction is produced in thousands 



THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 19 

who Still remain destitute of saving grace. That influence 
of the Spirit, by which a change of heart is effected, is es- 
sentially different from that distress and alarm which may 
be resolved into the exercise of mere natural conscience. 
For a man to be convinced that he is a sinner, and to trem- 
ble at the apprehension of wrath to come, is certainly 
something very distinct from becoming a new creature. 
Real Christians have not only perceived their danger, but 
have fled for refuge ; have not only been less or more 
troubled with a sense of guilt, but, in consequence of com- 
ing to Christ, have found rest for their souls. On a review 
of your past life, you perceive innumerable transgressions, 
it may be, and are perfectly convinced that you have been 
" walking according to the course of this world, according 
to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now 
worketh in the children of disobedience.'^ So far it is 
well ; your apprehensions are just and well founded, and 
your situation more replete with danger than you have 
ever conceived it to be. Do not, however, rest here. Let 
the views you entertain excite you the more earnestly to 
press into the kingdom of God. Let them engage you to a 
more diligent use of the means of grace ; and, above all, 
let them lead you to fix your hope and trust on the Re- 
deemer, whose blood alone can cleanse you from sin, and 
whose intercession is able to save, " to the uttermost, all 
that come unto God by him." Apply to him with humble 
faith and ardent prayer, and though you may be tempted to 
cherish doubts of the extent of his power and grace, say 
with him of old, " Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief" 
Lay aside, as far as possible, every other concern ; post- 
pone your attention to every other object, till you have 
reason to believe you have obtained mercy," and are renew- 
ed in the spirit of your mind. Address the throne of grace 
with unceasing importunity, remembering who hath said, 
" Ask, and ye shall receive ', seek, and ye shall find. Hira 



20 THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

that Cometh unto me I will in nowise cast out." In all 
your addresses to God, make use of the name and interces- 
sion of Christ, plead the efficacy of his blood, and the 
encouragement he hath offered sinners, in his Gospel, to 
return to God. Keep a continual watch over your words, 
thoughts, and actions : keep your heart with all diligence. 
Guard with the utmost care against levity and sloth, two 
most dangerous snares to the souls of men. 

If you ask how you may know whether you are par- 
takers of the special grace of God ; we reply. This will 
be best ascertained by its fruits. When you feel a fixed 
hatred of sin, an intense thirst after holiness and perfection, 
and a delight in the word and ways of God ; when you are 
habitually disposed to dwell on the thoughts of Christ and 
heaven ; when the Saviour appears unspeakably precious, 
as "the pearl of great price," and you are habitually 
ready to part with everything for his sake, you may be 
certain that you are born of God. These are the fruits of 
the Spirit, which sufficiently demonstrate the influence and 
presence of that blessed Agent. Till you have experien- 
ced effects of this kind, you are in a wretched state, though 
surrounded with all the brightest earthly prospects, because 
you are estranged from God, and exposed to his eternal 
wrath and displeasure. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 3. 



A FRIENDLY VISIT 



HOUSE OF MOURIOG 



BY REV. RICHARD CECIL, LONDON. 



" Amid the list of blessings infinite. 
Stand this the foremost, * That my heart has bled/ 
For all I bless Thee — most for the severe." 

Your present afHiction, my dear friend, demands some- 
thing more than the usual forms of condolence. Sorrow 
which, like yours, cannot be prevented, may yet be alle- 
viated and improved. This is my design in addressing you, 
and if I seem to intrude upon your retirement, let my mo- 
tive be my apology. Having felt how much " better it is 
to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feast- 
ing;" having received my best lessons, companions, and 
even comforts in it, I would administer from my little stock 
of experience; and while I thus endeavor to assist your 
meditations, shall rejoice if I may contribute, though but a 
mite, to your comfort. 

Were I, indeed, acquainted with the peculiar circum- 
stances of your loss, I should employ particular consider- 
ations ; but my present address can have only a general 
aim, which is, to acquaint the heart, at a favorable moment, 
with its grand concerns; to give it a serious impression 
when softened, and a heavenly direction when moved. Let 



2 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

US, therefore, sit down humbly together in this house of 
mourning. If " the heart of the wise be found" here, your 
experience, I hope, will prove that here also it is formed; 
and let us calmly contemplate some momentous objects 
intimately connected with it, and viewed with peculiar 
advantage from it. 

Our god is the first of these objects : with him we 
seldom form any close acquaintance till we meet him in 
trouble. He commands silence now, that he may be heard ; 
and removes intervening objects, that he may be seen. 

A Sovereign Disposer appears, who, as Lord of all, 
has only resumed what he lent ; whose will is the law of his 
creatures, and who expressly declares his will in the pres- 
ent affliction. We should seriously consider that all al- 
lowed repugnance to the determinations of his government, 
however made known to us, is sin ; and that every wish to 
alter the appointments of his wisdom is folly : " we know 
not what we ask." When God discovers himself in any 
matter, those who know him " will keep silence before him." 
" Shall he that contendeth wdth the Almighty instruct him ?" 
How just was the reply of Job, " Behold, I am vile ! what 
shall I answer thee ? I will lay my hand upon my mouth." 

This silent submission under trying dispensations is va- 
riously exemplified, as well as inculcated, in the Scriptures. 
An awful instance of sin and sorrow occurs in the family 
of Aaron : his sons disregarded a divine appointment, and 
" there went out fire from the Lord and devoured them ; but 
Aaron held his peace." Eli, in similar circumstances, si- 
lenced his heart with this single but sufficient consideration, 
" It is the Lord." David, under a stroke which he declares 
consumed him, observes, " I was dumb, I opened not my 
mouth, because thou didst it." And Job, when stripped 
of every comfort, blessed the name of him who " took 
away" as well as "gave." Whatever be the nature of 



HOUSE OF MOURNL\G. 3 

your calamity, may it be attended with such an humble 
and childlike spirit as these possessed ! 

But the Sovereign Disposer is also the Compassionate 
Father. Among other instances of his tenderness, you 
may have observed the peculiar supports he affords under 
peculiar trials. Let us mark and acknowledge the hand 
which mingles mercy with judgment, and alleviation with 
distress. The parents I have just mentioned lost their chil- 
dren under circumstances far more distressing than yours ; 
the desire of your eyes (if not the idol of your heart) was, 
perhaps, almost a stranger ; you strove hard to detain it, 
but He who took the young children into his arms and 
blessed them, took yours ; and, taking it, seemed to say, 
" What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know 
hereafter;" patiently suffer this little one to come unto me, 
for of such is my kingdom. Is not this infinitely better 
than anything you could do for it ? Could you say to it, 
if it had lived. Thou shalt " weep no more, the days of thy 
mourning are ended ?" Could you show it anything in 
this world like " the glory of God and of the Lamb ?" 
Could you raise it to any honor here like " receiving a crown 
of life?" The voice of the "Father of mercies and the 
God of all comfort" speaks as distinctly in the death, as in 
the birth of an infant. 

Is it a pious friend that has just yielded up his breath ? 
The same voice seems to say. Turn from him, or rather 
turn from his clay, his faded garment. " He" himself " is 
taken from the evil to come; he is entered into peace." 

When the able minister, the exemplary parent, or the 
faithful partner is removed, consternation often seizes the 
circle which they blessed. We are so stunned by the sud- 
den blow, or occupied with the distressing circumstances, 
that we scarcely can hear God saying. Fear not, I, even 
I, am he that comforteth you ; I, your Father, am yet 
alive : I gave you your departed friend ; I sent every ben- 



4 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

efit which was conveyed through him ; trust me for bless- 
ings yet in store ; trust me with him and with yourselves. 

Whatever notions one who lives " without God in the 
world" may form of dying, we should learn from his word 
to regard the departure of the just merely as a translation; 
a change in which nothing is lost which is really valuable. 
As surely as we " believe that Jesus died and rose again," 
so surely do we believe that " them also which sleep in 
Jesus, will God bring with him." Taught of God, we 
should view losses, sickness, pain, and death, but as the 
several trying stages by which a good man, like Joseph, 
is conducted from a tent to a court : sin his disorder ; Christ 
his physician ; pain his medicine ; the Bible his support ; 
the grave his bed '; and death itself an angel expressly sent 
to release the worn-out laborer, or crown the faithful soldier. 
" I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, 
Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from hence- 
forth : yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their 
labors ; and their works do follow them." 

But admitting the state of your departed friend to be 
doubtful, yet, in all cases that are really so, let us cultivate 
honorable thoughts of God ; let us remember the Faith- 
ful Creator. Righteousness is his throne, though clouds 
surround it. Whatever he has left obscure we may safely 
leave him to explain. Let us recollect, that amidst innu- 
merable obscurities he has made things clear in proportion 
as they are important ; and therefore repeatedly urges it 
upon our conscience, that the door of duty is still open to 
us, that it is awful to stand before it unresolved, that we 
must trust him to-day, and that to-morrow he will equally 
remove our conjectures and our complaints. 

Perhaps you are ready to reply, '' I have heard many 
such things," and " I also could speak as you do, if your 
soul were in my soul's stead;" but my heart and my ex- 
pectations are so crushed by this blow, that I can hear 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 5 

nothing but, " Thy bruise is incurable, and thy wound 
grievous ; thou hast no healing medicines." 

Beware, however, of falling into their sin, who " limited 
the Holy One of Israel. '^ There is a charge continually 
brought against man, that, in his troubles, the source and 
the resource are equally forgotten. "Though affliction 
Cometh not forth of the dust," yet "none saith. Where is 
God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night V En- 
deavor then, in extremities, to recollect an All-sufficient 
Friend — a very present help in trouble. He at least may 
add, as he does ni the passage just alluded to, " I will 
restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds, 
saith the Lord." Cannot the voice which rebuked a tem- 
pestuous sea calm our troubled spirits ? Is his hand short- 
ened at all, that he cannot bless our latter end, like Job's, 
more than the beginning ? Is it not the Lord " that maketh 
poor and maketh rich, that bringeth low and lifteth up ?" 
Many, whose hearts have been desolate like yours, while 
they have looked " around," have at length " looked up- 
ward unto him, and been lightened." A single promise 
has afforded them not only relief, but strong consolation. 

Let us therefore, my dear friend, " turn again to this 
stronghold, as prisoners of hope." Let us look to Abra- 
hani^s God, and his encouragement is ours : " Fear not ; I 
am God Almighty :" as if he had said, " I am all-suffi- 
cient in all cases ; I am enough ', ' able to do exceeding 
abundantly above all that you ask or think.' I have taken 
away thy gourd, but doest thou well to be angry ? Have I 
left nothing for thankfulness ? This world cannot be your 
home, nor its objects your consolation : they are all too poor 
for the soul of man. ' Look unto me, and be saved ;' 'ac- 
quaint thyself with me, and be at peace ;' ' follow me, and 
you shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.' 
However dark and distressing the present state of things 
may appear, ' commit thy fatherless children to my care, 



6 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

I will preserve them -alive; and let thy widows trust in 
me.' " 

Still the beloved object is gone, and your heart follows 
it. You can scarcely receive counsel from infinite Wisdom, 
or comfort from Omnipotence. To every fresh encourage- 
ment you are ready to reply, " Wilt thou show wonders to 
the dead ? Shall the dead arise and praise thee ? Shall thy 
loving-kindness be declared in the grave, or thy faithfulness 
in destruction ?" His word repeatedly assures you they 
shall, and that " all that are in the graves shall hear his 
voice ;" but it informs you also, that he can do abundantly 
more for the living than merely restore their dead friends, 
or revive their fainting spirits ; it teaches you that he can 
sanctify the separation, that he can give a divine life to the 
survivor, " though dead in trespasses and sins," and insep- 
arably unite both to his kingdom. If the Comforter could 
make up for the loss of Christ's bodily presence ; yea, make 
it even expedient that he should go away ; how much more 
can he supply the place of every creature ! 

May this Comforter, writing his word in your mind, 
help you to say, with a confidence highly honorable to him- 
self and his Gospel, " My poor perishing gourd is, indeed, 
withered a day before I expected it ; but God is left, ' a 
father to the fatherless, a husband to the widow ;' and now. 
Lord, what wait I for ? ' Truly my hope is in thee.' 
' Though the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit 
be in the vine, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in 
the God of my salvation.' " 

Once more ; let us endeavor, at such seasons as these, 
to recognize a gracious Monitor. Whenever the Lord 
strikes, he speaks. Let us listen, at such a time as this, 
with humble attention, yet with holy confidence, for it is 
the voice of a Friend, a wonderful Counsellor. L^t us, with 
the prophet, resolve to ascend the tower of observation, and 
observe " what he will say unto us. and what we shall answer 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 7 

when we are reproved." If with him we thus watch our 
dispensation, " at the end," like his, "it shall speak." 

And is it not, my afflicted friend, an infinite mercy, if 
God by any means, even by his minister Death, will arrest 
the attention of him who has slighted every other minister ? 
What patience ! what long-suffering ! to take such a one 
apart, bring him from noise and occupation into the secret 
and silent chamber ; speak to his heart, and seal the most 
important truths on it by the most affecting impressions ! Is 
it not saying, " How shall I give thee up, Ephraim ? How 
shall I make thee as Admah ?" Certain it is, that questions 
which before only reached the ear, oflen now, like barbed 
arrows, remain fixed in the conscience ; conscience, no 
longer stifled, discovers the Contender, and, trembling be- 
fore him, cries, " Thou hast chastised me, and I was chas- 
tised as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke : turn thou me 
and I shall be turned, for thou art the Lord my God." 

This, I say, is often the case ; and if, instead of flying 
for relief to every object but God, you are brought humbly 
to his feet, with patient submission, serious inquiry, fervent 
prayer, holy resolution, and firm reliance ; if, in a word, by 
the severest stroke, the enchantment is also broken, your 
soul, " escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowler," 
and returned to its proper rest, what reason will you have 
to say, 

" Those we call wretched, are a chosen band. — 
Amid the list of blessings infinite. 
Stand this the foremost, ' That my heart has bled.' 
For all I bless Thee — most for the severe — 
Her death — my own at hand ." 

Our prospects, as the inhabitants of a present and 
future world, should also be considered from this house of 
sorrow. Many suppose that they can best contemplate the 
present world by crowding the " house of mirth ;" their 



8 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

whole deportment, however, shows that it makes them too 
giddy for serious observation : " having eyes, they see not." 

Look at the deceased, and contemplate present things. 
His days a hand-breadth ; his beauty consumed ; his cares 
and pleasures a dream ; his years a tale ; his strength la- 
bor and sorrow. So soon is the whole cut off and fled, that 
we cannot help repeating with the psalmist, " Verily, every 
man at his best estate is altogether vanity," " a vapor, that 
appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." 

Few, perhaps, reflect, when they follow a friend to his 
grave, that life itself exhibits little more than a funeral pro- 
cession, where friend follows friend, weeping to-day, and 
wept for to-morrow. While we are talking of one, another 
passes : we are alarmed, but behold a third ! Let us then 
hear the voice of God calling us, though in an unexpected 
way, "to commune with our heart and be still ;" to know, 
at least in this our day of visitation, the things which be- 
long to our peace. 

It is at such seasons as these that we more clearly detect 
the lies of life : it is in the house of mourning that what the 
Scripture calls lying vanities lie peculiarly naked and ex- 
posed. Let us h^re examine what so lately dazzled us. 
What now is the " purple and fine linen " that caught our 
eye ? What is it to fare sumptuously only for a day ? Who 
is he that cries, " Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for 
many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry ?" I 
trust you now feel the deep misery and utter ruin of that 
dying creature, who can say nothing better to his soul than 
this. You can scarcely help crying out, " What sottish- 
ness, what madness this, in a moment so interesting as life, 
with a prospect so awful as eternity !" 

The truth is, God speaks variously and incessantly to 
man, respecting his prospects both present and future ; but 
present things seize his heart, blind his eyes, stupefy his 
conscience, and carry him away captive. Now " affliction 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 9 

is God speaking louder," and striving with the heart of 
man ; crying, as he has lately in your house. " Arise and 
depart, this is not your rest." 

By thus rending the veils which men try to throw over 
a dying state, the most careless are often so roused that they 
seem to awake and recover themselves ; they appear, for a 
time at least, to become " wise," to " understand these 
things," and seriously to " consider their latter end." May 
this salutary impression, my dear friend, never be worn 
from your mind, but lead you habitually to look from this 
fading to that abiding prospect which is to be found only in 

the ETERNAL WORLD. 

Be this tbe language of your heart : " Let the gay laugh ; 
let the despisers ' wonder and perish ;' with such prospects 
before me, I must be serious. He that cannot lie has re- 
vealed the terrors as well as the glories of a future state : 
he speaks of ' a worm that dieth not, and a fire' that is not 
quenched,' as well as of ' fulness of joy and pleasures for 
evermore.' I must not, I dare not shut my eyes against 
these awful realities. I will not sacrifice my soul to a jest, 
nor miss the single opportunity aflTorded me for its salvation. 
He that calls for my whole heart is worthy of it ; while the 
things which have hitherto engrossed it, though they cannot 
satisfy, I find they can ruin it ; ' I will therefore arise and 
go to my Father,' to my Saviour, wiio has promised to ' cast 
out none that come unto him.' Yea, doubtless, I ' count all 
things but loss that I may be found in him,' the true ark, 
the only refuge which God has provided for perishing 
sinners." 

Here then, my afflicted, but I hope instructed friend, 
let us study the heavenly science of gaining by losses, and 
rising by depressions. Leaving the wilderness, like Moses, 
let us ascend the mount of Scriptural discovery, and survey 
a prospect of which his was but a shadow. Let us look 
from vicissitude and desolation to what alone is " incorrupt- 
VOL. I. "^ 



10 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

ible, undefilecl, and that fadethnot away ;" and in the house 
of affliction and death let us contemplate " a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens." How refreshing to 
look from a family bereft of its companions and comforts to 
" Mount Zion, the city of the living God, the heavenly Je- 
rusalem ; to an innumerable company of angels ; and to the 
general assembly and church of the first-born which are 
written in heaven !" the only family which cannot be di- 
vided ; the only friendship which shall not disappoint our 
warmest expectation. 

" Glorious as this prospect is," perhaps you are ready to 
reply, " I have been long in the habit of viewing it very in- 
distinctly. My attention has been so fixed on one below, 
that I live looking into the grave rather than beyond it. 
My spirits are so broken, my heart so wounded, and my 
eyes so dim with w^atching and weeping, that I can hardly 
read what is before me, or recollect what I read. If seri- 
ous reflection composes me for a few moments, I soon 
relapse, and seem to lose sight of every support. I indeed 
severely feel what you say concerning the present life, but 
I view the glories of the future like a starving creature, 
who, looking through the gate of the wealthy, surveys a 
plenty which but increases his anguish.^' 

There is, however, this difference at least between your 
cases ; the plenty which you see is yours, if you are really 
willing to accept it. You never received a gift which was 
so freely bestowed, or so suited to your necessity, as 
that " gift of God, which is eternal life through Jesus 
Christ." 

To prepare the heart for the reception of this treasure, 
as a God of order, he is pleased to use a system of means ; 
one of which I hope he is now employing for your soul's 
health. I love to indulge hope, for affliction is a seed-time ; 
and let me freely inquire, since God has called you aside, 
has spoken so emphaticnlly. and you have had leisure for 



HOUSE OP MOURNING. 11 

serious meditation, Do not the provisions of the Gospel ap- 
pear new, sufficient, and exactly suited to your case ? Do 
you not mark that gold which the thief cannot steal, that 
foundation which no tempest can shake, that life over which 
death hath no power, and that peace which the world can 
neither give nor take away ? Does not the religion of 
Jesus, that is so forgotten and degraded among men, stand 
forward now as the one thing needful'? Does not his friend- 
ship appear now to be " that better part which shall not be 
taken away," and which alone can help in extremities ? In 
the wreck of human affairs, indeed, it is that God often 
makes his truth appear, and causes his Gospel, like a plank 
thrown out to the perishing mariner, to be properly known 
and prized. 

In health and ease, ingenious speculations may amuse 
and satisfy us ; but I think you now feel with me, that when 
he " takes away the desires of our eyes with a stroke," we 
need a support the world cannot afford. " I faint," says the 
wounded soul : " I want an Almighty arm to lean on now ; 
yea, a very tender and compassionate one too ; one like that 
of the Son of man. I need a merciful and faithful High- 
priest, who, having been tempted, knows how to succor 
the tempted : that man of sorrows, that brother born for 
adversity, who, being acquainted with grief, can enter into 
my case and commune with me in all the peculiarities of 
my distress. I now need one, who can quiet me on his 
own breast, and speak to me with his own voice, ' Weep 
not, the child is not dead, but sleepeth.' ' Weep not,' thou 
afflicted, tossed with the tempest ; ' when thou passest 
through the waters I will be with thee.' It is true, this is 
the land of death, 1)ut ' I am the resurrection and the life ;' 
this is, indeed, a ' dry and thirsty land where no water is ;' 
but I ' will lead you to fountains of living water. I will 
wipe away all tears from your eyes.' " 

You are ready, perhaps, to say, " O that I knew where 



12 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

I might find him ; but religion has been with me rather a 
case of necessity than the high privilege of communing 
with such a comforter. I feel the misery of living at such 
a distance from my heavenly Friend, especially at this time, 
but want liberty to approach nearer. Could I indeed repose 
on the bosom you just mentioned ; but, alas, my understand- 
ing is clouded, my faith weak, sense strong, and Satan busy 
in filling my thoughts with false notions, difficulties, and 
doubts, respecting a future state and the efficacy of prayer. 
Though I see very gracious proposals made to returning 
sinners, I tremble to venture ; death itself reminds me of 
transgression. My thoughts fly everywhere but to God." 

We readily acknowledge that among other views of death 
it should be regarded as the " wages of sin." It is also nat- 
ural for convinced sinners to tremble before a Judge who 
charges even angels with folly. But while the Christian, 
as a penitent, looks upon him whom he has pierced, and 
mourns ; as a believer, he looks to him who was wounded 
for transgression, and hopes. He finds it as desperate to 
doubt the remedy, as to deny the disorder. Having formerly 
rushed headlong with the presumptuous, he now fears per- 
ishing with the fearful and unbelieving. He sees an atone- 
ment of God's own providing ; he pleads, upon God's own 
authority, the merit of that blood " which cleanseth from all 
sin," and by thus receiving the " record which God gives 
of his Son, he sets his seal to it that God is true." 

Is this, my dear friend, in any degree your case ? Fear- 
ful, wandering, and wounded as your heart is, does it yet 
discover a resting-place ? Instead of wishing to evade the 
charge of manifold sins and wickedness committed by 
thought, word, and deed, against the Divine Majesty, is the 
remembrance of them grievous, and the burden of them 
intolerable ? Do you sincerely desire to be freed from this 
burden, and to enter into the glorious liberty of the children 
of God, that heavenly communion and rest which has been 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 13 

mentioned ? " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh 
away the sin of the world !" Behold him exalted to be a 
Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and forgiveness 
of sins ! Come to him as a sinner, and touch with humble 
confidence but the "hem of his garment," and you "shall 
be made whole." Wait upon him, and you shall obtain 
both strength and liberty ; " for if the Son make you free, 
you shall be free indeed." 

But I must not pass by a temptation to which you are 
exposed, in reference to your approaches to God. You will, 
perhaps, too readily object, " Here it is that I sink ; I prayed 
earnestly for the life of the deceased ; I thought at one time 
I saw signs of a recovery ; but the event makes me fear that 
I was not heard, and that I have no friend left now in 
earth or heaven." A little consideration will, I hope, show 
you your mistake, and prove that a petition may be gra- 
ciously accepted, when its particular object is not granted. 
Did not oyr Lord declare that his Father heard him 
always ? Are we not told that when " in the days of his flesh 
he had offered up prayers, with strong crying and tears, 
unto him that was able to save him from death, he was 
HEARD in that he feared ?" But consider how he was 
heard : certainly not by having the cup taken away, (a cup 
at which human nature, however perfect, must recoil,) but 
in being accepted when he prayed, in being supported 
while he drank it, and in victoriously accomplishing his 
grand design through di'inking it to the very dregs. 

To come nearer to our own condition, we find Paul 
going to Christ for deliverance from some severe trial, 
which he calls a thorn in the flesh : he tells us that he also 
was heard, and in the same way as his Master; not by 
being released from suffering, but by receiving something 
more honorable and advantageous ; namely, that grace 
which not only supports a believer through his trials, but 
puts a healing virtue into them. 



14 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

Far removed from the holy resignation of our Master, 
we too much resemble, in our prayers, the impatience of 
our children. I remember, when a sick one of mine had 
some medicine to take, he called loudly to me to come and 
assist him against those who were endeavoring to force it 
down. He, probably, wondered at my refusing to relieve 
him ; but the little sufferer did not consider, though often 
told, that he was not to be helped in that way ; he did not 
recollect that, while I tenderly felt his cry, the very com- 
passion I felt for him, and the desire I had to relieve him, 
kept me from taking away the bitter draught. 

The truth is, (and it is a truth frequently told us,) that 
our heavenly Father always sends his children the things 
they ask, or better things. He answers their petitions in 
kind, or in kindness. But while we think only of our ease, 
he consults our profit ; we are urgent about the body, he 
about the soul ; we call for present comfort, he considers 
our everlasting rest ; and therefore, when he sends not the 
very things we ask, he hears us by sending greater " than 
we can ask or think." 

Is any, therefore, afflicted ? let him pray — not only in the 
public sanctuary, or in the retired closet, but let him con- 
sider that there is a " new and living way, consecrated 
through the vail" of a Redeemer's human nature, from 
every scene of retirement or action to a Mercy Seat ; 
where he "satisfies the longing soul," and fills the "hun- 
gry soul with goodness," especially " such as sit in dark- 
ness and the shadow of death." 

Is it not a time of need with you ? Endeavor, at his com- 
mand, to approach with a holy confidence for the " supply 
of all your need, according to his riches in glory," and at 
this time particularly, for the illumination and comfort of 
his Holy Spirit. He whom you supplicate, not only in- 
vites, but reasons with you. " If ye, being evil, know how 
to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 15 

your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that 
ask him ?" 

The religion of education and custom obtains, more 
or less, everywhere ; but serious, vital, spiritual religion, 
is a case of necessity with us all. We summon our forces, 
we ransack our stores, we " spend our money for that 
which is not bread, and our labor for that which satis- 
fieth not;" we look every way, and call to every thing, 
till each in return loudly replies, "It is not in me." Well, 
indeed, will it be, if, after all our fruitless efforts, we are 
brought to feel that the provisions of the Gospel are the 
only bread for a hungry soul, the only balm for a wounded 
heart. 

However foreign, my dear friend, these truths were 
from your consideration when we first sat down together, if 
it shall please Him, "who commanded the light to shine out 
of darkness," to shine into your heart, and effectually dis- 
cover the exceeding riches of his grace in these provi- 
sions ; then, though you sit weeping over your loss, we are 
assured, from unquestionable authority, that angels are 
rejoicing for your unspeakable gain. We are certain, also, 
that not only every real friend will cry, " this day is salva- 
tion come to the house " where we lately wept ; but that, 
drying your tears, you yourself will be compelled to ex- 
press your grateful sense of the correction you now de- 
plore, and sing with a companion and fellow-proficient in 
the school of affliction : 

Fadier, I bless thy gentle hand ; , 

How kind was thy chastising rod, 
That forc'd my conscience to a stand. 

And brought my wandering soul to God. 

Foolish and vain, I went astray. 

Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord ; 
I left my guide — I lost my way ; 

But now I love and keep thy word. 



16 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

And here suffer me to drop a word or two respecting 

Ofr companions in the house of mourning. So- 
ciety is peculiarly pleasant when we are benighted on a 
journey ; and especially that of a citizen of the place to 
which we are going. It is encouraging to travel with 
those who are convinced that, if " they are chastened of the 
Lord, it is that they should not be condemned with the 
world." 

'' Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock;" for 
in this house they all have left the prints of their feet. 
Here stood Jacob weeping over his beloved Rachel ; and 
here Aaron deplored his sons. Here we trace the steps of 
David going up to his chamber, and crying with a loud 
voice, " Would to God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my 
son ! my son !" and the steps of Ezekiel, who, forbidden to 
cry, silently resigned the desire of his eyes to the stroke. 
But enumeration is vain ; hither came all the sons of God, 
the only begotten not excepted, for JESUS himself stood 
and "wept" at the grave of a friend. 

With such company, is it not far " better to go to the 
house of mourning than to the house of feasting?" I knew 
one of these, " a man who had seen affliction by a rod " 
like yours ; a man who walked and wept in solitude, but 
with no expectation of being overheard. There is some- 
thing sacred in grief, and we cannot listen to its effusions 
with too much candor ; great candor, indeed, is here 
required, but, if afforded, it may procure you at least a 
fompanion as you pass through -this vale of tears. 

CECIL'S PRIVATE REFLECTIONS. 

"****** ' Set thee up way-marks ;' I desire here to 
set them up, and to record the severest of my visitations in 
the house of my pilgrimage. Lord, prepare me for the next ! 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 17 

" I perceive I could not have properly sympathized with 
a friend in a similar case before this stroke. I could not 
have understood it. 

" I have, at times, so felt the importance of eternal 
things, that I thought the loss of any present comfort would 
be tolerable ; but I had no idea how much depended on 
being ready when the Son of man came in such a provi- 
dence. 

" I feel I now stand in the right position to see the world 
and the word; they both appear under aspects entirely new. 

" When I find ' my joys packed up and gone,' my heart 
slain, the delight of my eyes taken away ; when I recollect 
who is gone before her, who is following, and what remains 
for the world to offer ; my heart cries, ' I loathe it, I would 
not live alway ;' I thank God that / am also to go. 

"I perceive I did not know how much my life was 
bound up in the life of a creature ; when she went, nothing 
seemed left ; one is not ; and the rest seem a few thin and 
scattered remains. 

" And yet how much better for my lamb to be suddenly 
housed, to slip unexpectedly into the fold to which I was 
conducting her, than remain exposed here ! perhaps become 
a victim ! 

" I cried, ' O Lord, spare my child !' he did ; but not 
as I meant ; he snatched it from danger, and took it to his 
own home. 

" I have often prayed, ' Lord, soften my heart ! humble 
my pride ! destroy my levity !' I knew enough of his way 
to fear the means ; and he has, in mercy toward me, re- 
garded my soul more than my feelings. 

" I prayed earnestly for her life, duty compelled me to 
say, ' Thy will be done ;' but I meant nothing. 

" O my God, how long hast thou come seeking fruit on 
this tree ! how much hast thou done to cultivate it ! Shall 
it remain fruitless ? shall it be cut down after all ? 

YOL. 1- 3- 



18 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

" My passions forged impressions that she would live ; 
but I now plainly perceive I am called to regard God, and 
not impressions. 

" I have been long like one in a fever, attended at times 
with a strong delirium : I begged hard that I might not be 
bled, but he meant a cure, and pierced my heart. 

" O how slender, how brittle the thread on which hang 
all my earthly joys ! 

" I wish ever to be asking, ' Am I ready, should he 
send again, and take * * * or * * * or myself?' Setting my 
house in order will not make death approach sooner ; but 
that it would render his coming much easier, I feel by sad 
experience. 

" When I pass by the blaze of dissipation and intemper- 
ance, I feel a moment's relief. I say to my heart, ' Be 
still;' at least she is not left to follow these ignes fatui: 
how much better is even the grave for my T ! 

" It is vain for me to wish, as I have done, to leave the 
world and go to my Father, that !• might inquire into the 
whole of the case : the reasons, the steps, the issue, etc. 
In a short time I shall ; but he says enough now, if I 
have ears to hear. 

" In the mean time, help me, Q my God and Father, to 
recollect that I received this drop of earthly comfort from 
a spring which still remains ! help me to feel that nothing 
essential is altered ! ' for with thee is the fountain of life :' 
part of myself is already gone to thee, help what remains 
to follow !" ********************** 

If this humble attempt to improve your affliction has 
been attended with any success, you will readily admit a 
few concluding hints with respect to 

Our duty in such circumstances. And one of the 
first and principal duties of the state is, as has been ex- 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 19 

pressed, to acknowledge God in it. It was charged upon 
some, that they " returned not to him that smote them, nor 
sought the Lord '^ in their distress. On the contrary, the 
clear apprehension Job had of a Divine hand in his afflic- 
tions, is as instructive as his patience under them. While 
grief " rent his mantle," faith fell down and worshipped: 
" The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away, blessed be 
the name of the Lord." Let us learn from him never to 
lose sight of the Author by an undue regard to the mere 
circumstances of our loss. We may think and speak of 
the symptoms and stages of the late removal ; of the physi- 
cians, of the remedies, etc., in their supposed right or wrong 
application ; but not so as to forget that an unerring Provi- 
dence presided over the whole, yea, actually conducted 
every part on reasons as righteous as inscrutable. 

Whatever may appear to us peculiar in the sick cham- 
ber, the whole was but God's intended method of removing 
one who had lived his full, his appointed time. " Seeing 
his days are determined, the number of his months are 
with thee: thou hast appointed him his bounds which he 
cannot pass." Instead of fixing our attention upon means 
and creatures, of which we know very little, let us turn to 
Him who wrought by these instruments, and merely effected 
his own determinations by them. " Cease from man, for 
wherein is he to be accounted of?" Let not the creature 
hide the Creator, nor present things prove the fatal screen 
of the future ; but, in every occurrence, mark the great 
Cause, " of whom, and through whom, and to whom are all 
things;" who numbereth the very hairs of our head, and 
without whom even a " sparrow falls not to the ground." 

While others, therefore, are wandering without an ob- 
ject, and bereaved without a comforter, yea, are going to 
their worst enemy for relief, let us endeavor to say, with 
Peter, "Lord, to whom shall we go" but to "Thee?" 
Consider the great Physician as now proposing a most 



20 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

serious question to your conscience : " Wilt thou be made 
whole ?" May the language of your heart be that of the 
Apostle, " If by any means :" then, though seemingly 
swallowed up of this grief, like Jonah, you shall find a 
resource in it, and finally be preserved hy it. This dart, 
like that which once pierced an imposthume in battle, shall 
bring health with its wounds ; and you shall be enabled, 
with many that are gone before you, to say, " The Lord 
hath chastened me sore : but he hath not given me over 
unto death." 

Duty also directs you to moderate yotjr grief. Our 
heavenly Father, who " knows our frame, and remembers 
that we are but dust," allows us to mourn when he afflicts 
us ; he often, in his providence, calls us to it, and charges 
us to " weep with them that weep •" but he admonishes us 
also of a danger on each hand : " My son, despise not thou 
the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked 
of him." If we seriously profess Christianity, our very pro- 
fession implies not only a subjection to our Lord's will, but 
that we have special resources in our affliction, several of 
which have been already named : that, among other of our 
privileges, there is " a peace from "God which passeth all 
understanding, to keep our hearts and minds " through life 
and death ; and that we have many reasons for " not sor- 
rowing as others who have no hope." Besides which, 
Christians have a post of honor to maintain, a " high call- 
ing " to demonstrate and commend. We shall, like the 
pilot in the storm, be brought to our principles ; and, " as 
sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," should prove that we have 
them not now to learn. 

There is such a thing as nursing and cherishing our 
grief, employing " a busy meddling memory to muster up 
past endearments " and personate a vast variety of tender 
and heart-rending circumstances. There is a tearing open 
the wound afresh by images and remembrances, and there- 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 21 

by multiplying those pangs which constitute the very bit- 
terness of death itself. Our melancholy exceedingly affects 
this voluntary torture ; it seeks expedients, and will listen 
to the most unjust and aggravated accusations which can 
approach a tender conscience respecting the deceased. But 
conscience should rather be concerned to repress such a 
disposition. It is a temptation. It desperately strives to 
retain what God has determined to remove : in some cases 
it seeks to penetrate an abyss he forbids even conjecture to 
explore ; and, while it unfits the mourner for the pressing 
duties of his station, it leads to that "sorrow of the world 
which worketh death" to his body, soul, and Christian 
character. How different and superior the sentiments of 
David ! " His servants said unto him, What thing is this 
that thou hast done ? thou didst fast and weep for the child 
while it was alive, but when the child was dead thou didst 
rise and eat bread. And he said, While the child was yet 
alive, I fasted and wept : for I said, Who can tell whether 
God will be gracious to me, that the child may live ; but 
now he is dead, wherefore should I fast ? can I bring him 
back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not 

RETURN to me." 

Present circumstances also admonish you to know your 
opportunity, and to improve this season as peculiarly fa- 
vorable for spiritual advancement. Your heart is now soft, 
its fascinations withdrawn, and the call loud and affecting ; 
endeavor, therefore, to take the benefit of a remedy you feel 
to be so expensive. 

If, in a sense, " smitten friends are angels sent on errands 
full of love," instead of weeping over their tombs, let us 
listen to the voice which properly arises from them ; espe- 
cially if it be our privilege to bury one, who, like Abel, " be- 
ing dead, yet speaketh," and who would be ready to say to 
his mourners, " Weep not for me, but for yourselves and 
for your children V "I have fought the good fight, I have 



22 FRIENDLY VISIT TO THE 

finished my course, I have kept the faith," and received 
my crown. I cannot now come to weep with you, but you 
may ascend and rejoice with me, where there is " no more 
death, neither sorrow, nor crying, for the former things are 
passed away." If you truly love me, prepare to follow me. 
If you earnestly wish to see me again, seek not the living 
among the dead, but arise and become "a follower of them 
who through faith and patience inherit the promises." Take 
that heavenly lamp which " shineth as a light in a dark 
place ;" walk humbly by it, " till the day dawn and the day- 
star arise in your heart." Haste, my beloved, toward the 
things which eye hath not seen ; and, ere the eternal day 
break, and the present shadows flee away, " run with patience 
the race set before you, looking unto Jesus." How will 
my cup overflow to meet you among those who daily come 
hither "out of great tribulation;" and having "washed 
their robes in the blood of the Lamb, serve him day and 
night in his temple !" 

Embrace every method God has recommended for main- 
taining communion with him, and obtaining relief from 
him : the various ordinances of his house, the encourage- 
ments of his word, the society of his children, and espe- 
cially prayer. Often speak to Him who " seeth in secret," 
" and is nigh unto all that call upon him," though, with 
the woman of Canaan, you can only say, " Lord, help me." 
You have both a command and a promise : " Call upon me 
in the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou shalt 
glorify me." Christ encourages no one to advance on the 
ground of his own strength, any more than on that of his 
own desert : he is as jealous of the power of his arm as of 
the merit of his blood. He admitted infirmity and misery 
to be presented as a complaint, but never as an objection. 

Again, that you may seek cheerfully this assistance, 
EEGARD YOTJR ENCOURAGEMENTS. What hath God not dons 
in order to commend his love ? By every expression of ten- 



HOUSE OF MOURNING. 23 

der concern, he, in the person of a man of sorrows, invites 
the guilty, the weary, the trembling, and the tempted, to 
come unto him, assuring them that he will neither " break 
the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax." May he 
meet you at this time, my dear friend, with consolations 
which none but himself can afford ; and then, at the very 
grave, shall that saying be brought to pass, " Death is swal- 
lowed up in victory." 

To conclude : the late event solemnly repeats the charge, 
"Be ye also ready." Your friend is gone : your follow- 
ing is certain; it may be sudden; it may be next. But 
should it take place this night, and find you provided with 
nothing better for the change than the miserable subterfuges 
of the profane, or the scarcely less miserable supports of 
the formal, what an alarm, if you are not left to the most 
affecting delusion or stupidity, will it occasion ! What an 
awful transition to pass from the Saviour to the Judge ! 
without love to him, without even an acquaintance with 
him ; unwilling, unreconciled, unrenewed ! — and to him 
who has so often invited you, warned you, and at times 
affected your conscience with the truths we have been con- 
sidering ! What a subject for eternal reflection : " You 
would not come to him that you might have life !" 

God forbid that this should be your case. I only sup- 
pose it, lest it should ; and it is too common to render the 
supposition improper. From such a danger we cannot be 
too secure ; and therefore, having lately seen how soon " the 
night Cometh, when no man can work," let us seek to-day, 
in the redemption which is in Christ Jesus, that peace and 
safety which you must be conscious can never be found 
OUT of it, and which it may be too late to seek to-morrow. 

Some things belonging to our important change are 
wisely hid from us ; nothing, however, is more plain than 
that it is near, and therefore demands our most serious 
attention : that it is finally " decisive," and therefore warns 



24 FRIENDLY VISIT, ETC. 

US to watch against those errors which eternity cannot rec- 
tify ; and that the hour is uncertain, and therefore calls us 
to stand prepared. With our loins girded and our lights 
burning, may we thus wait for our Lord ! 

Impressed with such views, I have often wished to take 
the afflicted by the hand and lead them to a resource their 
passions have obscured. I have wished them to see that 
the Christian hope is then most alive and full of immortal- 
ity when every other hope perishes : these wishes, and the 
request of a friend, (who was solicitous to obtain something 
of this kind more compendious than he had yet seen,) have 
drawn from me some imperfect hints. Imperfect, however, 
as they are, like a few words presented by the road's side 
to the eye of a weary traveller, they may afford you some 
present direction and relief. And should He, who is pleased 
to employ the feeblest means in his greatest work, conduct 
you by them though but a single step on your way towards 
a morning without clouds — a house without mourning — the 
service of your affectionate friend will obtain a high reward. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



J¥o. 4. 

WITHOUT HOLINESS 
NO MAN SHALL SEE THE LORD 



A SOLEMN declaration ! The unchangeable God hath 
made it. Shall not then the unholy sinner see the Lord ? 
See him indeed the sinner must, when he cometh with 
clouds. Every eye shall then behold him, and all unholy 
hearts will fear and tremble. But to behold the Lord in 
peace — to see his face and live, will be, to the sinner, for 
ever impossible. Impenitent and unholy, he is under 
condemnation — a prisoner to offended justice. The wrath 
of God abideth on him. He that believeth not, is con- 
demned already. The wages of sin is death. 

It is naturally impossible for the sinner to see God in 
peace, while sinful principles and tempers reign within 
him. There is no agreement between sin and holiness. 
The heart must be pleased with the character, govern- 
ment, and service of God, before it can be happy in God 
himself. The sinner dislikes God and his holy requisi- 
tions. He is pursuing interests and pleasures which God 
hath forbidden. He will not have God to reign over him. 
Such opposition of character and views will keep the soul 
at an infinite remove from the presence and enjoyment of 
God. 

Sin cherished in the soul will fill it with darkness — 
will exclude the light of God's countenance and the tokens 
of his favor. The sinner, with his unholy heart and carnal 
aflections, cannot approach the throne of grace. He has 
no interest there. He is a stranger — an alien — an enemy, 
by wicked works. He has no access to God — no commun- 



2 WITHOUT HOLINESS 

ion with him — no settled peace of conscience — no prepara- 
tion for a holy heaven. When flesh and heart begin to 
fail, and the sinner feels himself drawn irresistibly towards 
death and judgment, whither will he look? Will he 
raise his eyes to heaven ? Alas ! he never sought the 
friendship of God ; and now God is not his friend. As he 
was far from God in life, now God is far from him. Dark- 
ness and gloom brood over his mind, and shut out the light 
of heaven. Conscious guilt and fearful forebodings antici- 
pate the wrath of God. 

Besides, the heavenly world, with all its glory and feli- 
city, would be a place of torment to an unholy mind. 
Should the sinner, with his unholy heart and character, 
be admitted into the regions of the blessed, what would 
he find, suited to the desires and reigning temper of his 
heart ? He would find the character and taste of every 
being totally opposite to his own. He would find every 
employment of heaven holy and spiritual, and opposed to 
his inclinations. He would find himself perfectly alone — 
no one to associate with him among all the millions of 
the heavenly world. He would feel himself unfit for the 
society of the blessed. A sight of the glory of Jehovah 
would fill his soul with unutterable pain, and wake within 
him the worm that never dies. Covered with pollution, and 
filled with conscious guilt, he would shrink from the place, 
and hide himself in the dark abodes of hell, rather than 
endure the light, the purity, and the joys of heaven. 

Reader, let me entreat you to consider, as a dying, 
accountable creature, the momentous truth before us. Do 
you not wish to know what is necessary, to see God in 
peace ? and what you must be, to enjoy his favor, and be 
happy for ever ? This is, of all concerns, the first and 
greatest. Whatever interests you have in the world, 
depend upon it, they are far less important than being 
of the temper and character necessary to the favor and 
friendship of your Maker. God has expressly assured 
us, that, without holiness, we cannot see his face and live. 
It is a point irreversibly determined. Deceive not your- 
self, then, with the vain hope of being blessed in his favor, 
without holiness of heart and life. Has God declared, that 
holiness is indispensable to the enjoyment of him, here and 
hereafter ; and can you be indifferent, whether you have 



NO MAN SHALL SEE THE LORD. O 

this all-important qualification for heaven, or are yet in 
your sins — whether you are travelling the narrow road to 
life, or the broad road to death ? Can you trifle with heaven 
and hell ? Is it a small thing whether you be doomed to 
the lake of fire, or dwell for ever in the paradise of God ? 
When these heavens shall be on fire, and these elements 
shall melt with fervent heat — when the voice of the arch- 
angel and the trump of God shall sound the general alarm, 
and call the world to judgment ; then, O dreadful to declare, 
then will trembling sinners call to the rocks and mountains 
to fall on them, and hide them from the sight of their 
offended Judge. No one can then be indifferent. All 
hearts which are not holy, and not fixed on God, will then 
be filled with consternation and dismay. 

This dreadful day will surely come : are you prepared 
for its amazing solemnities ? Be faithful to yourself. Now 
is a blessed season of grace ; to-morrow it may be past for 
ever. Ask, then, without delay, the momentous question — 
Have I that holiness, whhout which I cannot see the Lord ? 
Does the love of God dwell in my heart ? Are my affec- 
tions placed on things above ? Am I conformed to the 
image of God ? Do I delight in his holy service ? Do I 
heartily repent of sin ? Have I the spirit of Christ, and am 
I reconciled unto God by his atoning blood ? Reader, you 
have made these inquiries ; let conscience now answer 
them as in the presence of God. Are you indeed penitent 
and heavenly-minded, pardoned by the blood, and renewed 
by the Spirit of the Lord Jesus ? Or, on the contrary, does 
not your conscience bring the melancholy report, that you 
are yet in your sins — without God and without hope in the 
world? This, then, is your conclusion. The testimony 
of your conscience is, that you are destitute of holy love to 
God, and of saving faith in Jesus ; and consequently, that 
you are condemned already. Dreadful condition ! Awake, 
O sinner, from your security in sin, and behold your threat- 
ening danger. You have no preparation for the hourof 
death, nor for standing before your eternal Judge. You 
have no qualifications for heavenly blessedness — no temper 
for the holy praises of eternity, nor for dwelling in the 
presence of a holy God and Saviour. With your present 
character, you must be shut out of heaven : for no impeni- 
tent, unsanctified, unholy heart, can be admitted there j and 



4 WITHOUT HOLINESS, ETC. 

without supreme love to God, and delight in his praises, the 
heavenly world would be a place of pain and torment to 
the soul. 

Wherever the sinner, in the future world, is, he must 
be wretched. His opposition of heart to God, his unholy 
temper, and love of sinful pleasures, will constitute the 
prime ingredients of hell. Consider, I beseech you, how 
criminal you are in the sight of your Maker and Redeemer, 
while your heart is at variance with him, and refuses to 
love and serve him. He demands your love. You will 
not have him to reign over you. But who hath hardened 
himself against God, and prospered ? You are perishing 
in sin, and yet refuse the Almighty arm stretched out for 
your relief. Consider the awful guilt of rejecting God's 
eternal Son, and of setting at nought the messages of his 
grace. How can you escape, if you neglect so great sal- 
vation ? Let not, I pray you, the pleasures, and gains, and 
pursuits of this world, divert your attention from the danger 
which threatens you, while impenitent and unholy. The 
end of your present course is the second death — the pun- 
ishment of hell. If, after this solemn warning, you remain 
stupid, impenitent, and forgetful of God, you will not only 
run the hazard of losing your soul, but will awfully aggra- 
vate your final condemnation. We must look forward with 
fearful apprehensions of seeing your death-bed a place of 
terror and remorse, and of hearing you take up the bitter 
lamentation — the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and 
I am not saved. We must look forward to the great and 
dreadful day, and see you a trembling criminal, on the left 
hand of your offended Judge, ready to hear the irreversible 
sentence, " Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting 
fire." O prevent a doom so dreadful, while God is on the 
throne of mercy, and entreats you to come unto him and 
live. O come and bow before a gracious God, and with 
deep repentance sue for pardon through the blood of Jesus. 
Fly to the Saviour ; make the Judge your friend. Behold 
he Cometh ! Prepare to meet your God. Without holinessj 
ye cannot see the Lord, 



PUBLISHED BT THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIJJTY. 



No. 5, 



THE 



WARNING VOICE. 




MOUNT SINAI. 

This little book is addressed to you on the weighty and 
everlasting interests of your soul. You see that people all 
around you are dying ; and you know that you too must 
die, and be fixed in a state that is unchangeable. Is it not 
then a question of great importance for you to put to your- 
self, " Have I any solid ground of hope that I shall go to 
heaven when I die ? or have I not rather awful reason to 
fear that I shall sink down to hell, and there lift up my eyes 
in everlasting torments ?" If you live and die in sin, this 
must be your portion. Attend therefore with seriousness to 
the following considerations : 

1. Whileliv'mgms'm, you are in inwiment danger. You 
would pity the poor man who was thoughtless and uncon- 
cerned on the brink of some frightful precipice ; but the 
precipice on the edge of which you are standing, is infinitely 
more tremendous. You would reckon him a madman who, 



^ THE WARNING VOICE. 

for one short hour of pleasure, would expose himself to 
misery for all future time ; but you are more inexcusable, 
who, for pleasures of sin which are but for a season, are 
venturing upon a miserable eternity. 

A warning voice from God's word now sounds in your 
ear, Except a man be horn again, he cannot see the kingdom 
of God; a voice uttered by that Saviour who will shortly 
be your judge ; and if you should then be found a stranger 
to this new birth, it would be better for you had you nfever 
been born ; for he will say to you, " Depart, ye cursed, 
into everlasting fire." Were you now to think of these 
things, as becomes men that have never-dying souls, they 
would ever be uppermost in your mind ; you would think 
of them when at labor in the field, when at work in the 
shop, or when busy in the house. How happy would it be 
for you, if an abiding sense of them should drive you to 
Christ, the strong hold, as a prisoner of hope ! But if you 
determine to banish these thoughts because they make you 
uneasy, and go on dreaming of happiness over the pit of 
destruction, be assured your delusion cannot last long. Soon 
DEATH will tear the bandage from your eyes ; and O, what 
sights will you then see ! what sounds will you then hear ! 
what anguish will you then feel ! You that could not bear 
to hear of hell, how will you endure the fire that shall never 
be quenched ? 

Perhaps you now take the name of God in vain, and 
call for damnation on your soul. Alas ! you have never 
considered what damnation is, or you would not trifle with 
it upon your tongue. Perhaps you profane the Sabbath. 
Instead of attending upon the worship of God, you spend 
the day in a tavern, or in idleness, or in your worldly call- 
ing, or in visiting, or receiving visits. Perhaps you live in 
the indulgence of forbidden lusts, which drown men in per- 
dition. These sins harden the heart, stupefy the conscience, 
and bring upon those that commit them swift destruction. 
God says of such, " They shall have their portion in the 
lake of fire and brimstone, which is the second death." 

But coneider, however free you are from gross immo- 
rality, what is your true character in the sight of Him who 
looketh on the heart. Be not deceived. Delusion here is 
fatal. Whatever form of holiness you have, while a stranger 
to conversion, you are destitute of the reality of religion, 



THE WARNING VOICE. 3 

and notwithstanding all your fair appearances, are an un- 
godly man. 

For the discovery of yourself, consider the following 
marks and evidences of an ungodly man ; and, in contrast, 
the marks of one that is truly godly ; and may the Lord 
help you to examine yourself as in the sight of God ! 

An ungodly man places his chief happiness in lliis 
world. Here is his chief treasure ; and where his treasure 
is, there his heart will be also. If his farm flourishes, or 
his trade increases, or he lives a little better than his poor 
neighbors, he thinks himself happy, and like the rich man 
in the Gospel, says to his soul, " Soul, thou hast much 
goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, 
and be merry." Reader, is this your case ? Is your soul 
bound to the earth ? If it is, be assured, as if a voice from 
heaven had proclaimed it, you are in an unconverted state, 
an enemy of God ; for " if any man love the world, the 
love of the Father is not in him," " he is an enemy of God." 

On the other hand, a truly godly man is enlightened to 
see the utter vanity, and insufliciency, and emptiness of this 
present world. He knows it can never make him happy ; 
and therefore, while many are saying, " Who will show us 
any earthly good ?" his language is. Lord, lift thou up the 
light of thy countenance upon me, and it shall put gladness 
into my heart, more than when their corn and wine are in- 
creased. Nothing less can satisfy him than the favor of 
God, which is life, and his loving kindness, which is better 
than life. He had rather be a poor man, a persecuted man, 
with the favor of God, than have all the riches of the world 
without it. 

An ungodly man is one who does not delight in the ser- 
vice of God. There are many who never attend upon pub- 
lic worship ; or, if they do, it is only out of custom, and 
they are heartily glad when it is over. Unless they have 
some pleasure to pursue, or some worldly business to pro- 
mote, they count the Sabbath-day the longest in all the 
week ; and say, " What a weariness is it !" As to more 
retired worship, either in the family or in the closet, in that 
they take no delight. They know that God is their enemy, 
and they feel an aversion to his company. But a godly man 
loves the place where God's honor dwelleth. He says, " I 
was glad when they said unto me. Let us go up to the house 



4 THE WARNING VOICE. 

of the Lord." He goes to the house of God hungering and 
thirsting after living bread and living waters ; and he has 
found there some of the happiest moments of his life. Nor 
can he live without secret prayer ; and when he has been 
pouring out his heart to God, he has experienced some of 
the foretastes of heaven, some of the beginnings of glory. 

An ungodly man is one who pays no regard to the souls 
of his children. If they are strong and healthy, and he can 
provide food and clothing for them, and they thrive in the 
world, that is all he cares for. But as to their souls, he 
does not trouble himself about them. So far as he is con- 
cerned, they are left to grow up in sin, and in ignorance 
of God and Christ ; strangers to the Gospel, even in a Chris- 
tian land. Surely those who have no concern about the 
spiritual and eternal interests of their children must be un- 
godly parents. 

On the contrary, a truly godly man makes the souls of 
his children a principal concern. He tries to impress their 
minds with a deep sense of their misery and guilt, of the 
corruption of their hearts and the depravity of their lives, 
of their need of the Gospel, and of the excellent and suitable 
blessings it contains — blessings that will make them rich in 
the favor of God, not only in this world, but also in eternity. 
He had rather see his children good than great ; rather see 
them pressing after the kingdom of glory than possessed of 
the most powerful kingdom upon earth. 

Now, reader, if you discern your own picture in the 
marks which have been given of an ungodly man ; if, in 
the description which has been drawn, you see your own 
likeness, know then that you are in a state of the greatest 
danger, " in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds of ini- 
quity;" and that there is but a step between you and ever- 
lasting burnings ! O then flee, flee from the wrath to 
COME. The avenger of blood pursues you. The judge, 
even now, standeth at the door ; and in a very little time, 
without deep repentance and turning to God through Christ, 
you will cry out in torment, without a drop of water to 
cool your tongue. 

II. While you are living in sin, and are a stranger to 
God and Christ, you know nothing of true and real happiness. 
It is utterly impossible, in the very nature of things, that 
there can be real peace and happiness in the ways of sin. 



THE WARNING VOICE. 5 

A prophet has declared, " There is no peace, saith my God, 
to the wicked." Have you not often found the truth of 
these words in your own melancholy experience ? Have 
you not often felt the most dreadful pangs of conscience, 
and fearful forebodings of eternal misery ? What could 
this be but the gnawings of that worm that never dieth, the 
beginnings of that fire which shall never be quenched ? 
You try to banish the thoughts of death and .judgment. 
You fly to company, to vain amusements, or the cares of 
this world, to stifle the voice of conscience. Why do you 
strive to stifle her voice ? Alas ! it is because you know 
that conscience witnesses against you. But though you en- 
deavor to drown her voice, yet you know that now and then 
she speaks in a tone of terror. And is this the happiness 
you promise yourself in the ways of sin ? 

You have already made the dreadful experiment, that 
there is no real happiness to be found in the ways of sin ; 
try then what the ways of Clirist will produce, and you will 
find these words fulfilled in your own happy experience : 
" Great peace have they that love thy law." Instances un- 
numbered might be readily produced, which would show 
the power of religion to support and solace the mind under 
the heaviest trials, and to inspire the soul with peace and 
triumph in the dying hour. No such instances can be found 
in all the registers of sin. O that you would then be con- 
vinced that you can never experience happiness till your 
peace is made with God through Christ. 

III. While living in sin, the great God is your enemy. 
And, O man or woman, youth or child, whoever you are, 
if God be against you, all things are against you ; this world 
is but your'prison till the day of wrath, when you will be 
brought out, like a felon, to everlasting punishment. Your 
own conscience now tells you that God is your enemy, be- 
cause you know you are a rebel against him, though he has 
been doing you good ever since you were born. Yea, your 
actions testify against you ; for they say, " I will not have 
him to reign over me." 

Now to have God for your enemy, how dreadful ! Far 
better have all the men in the world, yea, all the devils in 
hell, to your enemies, than the blessed God. The weight 
of his arm you cannot endure, and from his vengeance you 
cannot escape. O you will find it a fearful thing to fall into 
VOL. I. 4 



6 THE AVAR^'1NG VOICE. 

the hands of the living God ! Then neither pious friends 
nor godly ministers can help you. Then you will remem- 
ber this " Warning Voice ;" and it will add to your an- 
guish, that you turned a deaf ear to the counsel that is now 
given you. 

IV. In a very little time death, judgment, and eternity 
will overtake you. O what haste is death making ! There 
is no post so swift, no messenger so sure ; and when he 
comes, then of all your unjust gains, for which you have 
sold your soul and salvation, and of all your sinful plea- 
sures, nothing will remain but the heavy reckoning and the 
bitter remembrance. Yes, you must stand before the judg- 
ment-seat of Christ. You must there give an account to 
him of your stewardship, of your time, your talents, and 
privileges ; and why you employed them for sinful pleasure 
and profit, and not for his glory. And when he shall say, 
" Did I send you into the world only to get wealth, and to 
forget your immortal soul ? Did I appoint my Sabbaths to 
be profaned by you ; and give you my word only to be 
neglected ? Did I give you my laws arid commandments 
only to be trampled upon ? Did I not send my faithful min- 
isters to set before you the blessings which my grace pro- 
vided for the chief of sinners ? And still, notwithstanding 
all this, did you not harden your heart, and go on in the 
way of your own evil thoughts?" When the awful Judge 
shall put these questions, what answer will you be able to 
give ? Will you not be speechless with confusion and self- 
conviction ? And will not your heart sink within you when 
you shall hear him pronounce the awful sentence, " Depart, 
ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and 
his angels." 

There is an energy in the word eternity which deserves 
to be seriously thought of; and which you will begin to 
know the meaning of, whenever this slender veil of flesh is 
removed, and eternal things in all their grandeur and im- 
portance burst upon your sight. If God were to impress 
this thought upon your mind, it would put an effectual stop 
to your present course of folly. 

V. Miserable as your present state is, the Gospel of Christ 
points out a way of escape. There is a great salvation pro- 
vided by a great Saviour, and accomplished by great means. 
This salvation is free for all that are willinir heartily and 



THE WARNING VOICE. 7 

with true penitence to receive it. Do not think of trying to 
make yourselves worthy of this salvation, or of making 
yourselves clean before you go to him for cleansing. You 
may as well bid a sick man heal himself before he apply 
to a physician. 

O that you would listen to these glad tidings with a 
heart warm with love to that God who has been pleased to 
manifest such a display of his love to a lost world, as to 
" give his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
him might not perish, but have everlasting life." He sent 
him to die, tliat you might live — to be made a curse for you, 
that you might be delivered from the curse of that law which 
you have broken. There is free and full pardon offered in 
the Gospel to every one that will but come unto God by 
Jesus Christ, however vile your past life may have been, 
and however great a sense you may now have of your 
transgressions. And such has been the energy of this doc- 
trine of free forgiveness for the greatest offenders, that it 
has influenced drunkards to become sober, unclean persons 
to become chaste, fraudulent persons to become honest, and 
those who have long been under the power of darkness to 
become fellow-citizens of the saints, and of the household 
of God. 

O consider that the God of mercy condescends to entreat 
you to attend to the things that belong to your everlasting 
peace, before they are forever hidden from your eyes ; and 
that the compassionate Redeemer, who gave his life to re- 
deem sinners from everlasting destruction, speaks to them 
in the most gracious language, " Come unto me, all ye that 
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" and 
he tells you for your encouragement, that " whoever Com- 
eth, he will in no wise cast out ;" and he moreover assures 
you, that, though you have long resisted his grace, there is 
yet room in his heart for you. Yea, notwithstanding he is 
now exalted to the throne of infinite glory, he sees you, he 
observes you, as you are reading these lines. He observes 
the effect they have upon you. And will you, can you 
bear the thought of rejecting him, and neglecting the grace 
that is now held up to you 1 O consider that there will be 
no possibility of escaping if you neglect so great salvation ! 

Consider also, that your conversion and salvation will 
give joy to all the good. Such know that in their Father's 



8 THE WARNING VOICE. 

house is bread enough and to spare, and that in their Fa- 
ther's heart are infinite compassions. They know you never 
can be happy, till, as a returning prodigal, you come to 
him ; and they would think their happiness greatly in- 
creased by promoting yours. 

Reflect upon the privileges those enjoy who with their 
whole heart have, like Mary, chosen tlie one thing needful. 
They are in possession of that good part which shall never 
be taken from them. The promises of God are all theirs. 
All the blessings of life are theirs, and all the afflictions of 
life work for their good ; whether life, or death, or things 
present, or things to come; all are theirs, for they are 
Christ's, and Christ is God's. They are now heirs of glory. 
They are looking for that eternal kingdom which they will 
forever possess. And is not this enough to excite your 
earnest desires that you may be a partaker of all this bliss ? 
Come then to Christ. Cast yourself upon his mercy. He 
will reject none who trust in him. He will hear the prayer 
of the penitent. His holy Spirit will soften your hard heart, 
change your corrupt affections, and mould and form you 
into his own blessed image. 

Go to him for strength to resist your own corruptions, 
the insinuations of wicked companions, and the temptations 
of the devil. Resolve, like the faithful servant of God of 
old. Let others do what they will, as for me, I will serve the 
Lord. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SGCIETT. 



^o. 6, 



THE 



OIE THUG lEEDFTJL 



Traveller. Pray, friend, will you give me leave to 
ask you a question or two ? 

Yourself. With all my heart, sir, as many as you 
please. 

Tr. Of what religion are you? 

You. Of what religion, sir ? The same as my neigh- 
bors. 

Tr. And pray what religion is that ? 

You. Why the same as our fathers' before us. 

Tr. I should be glad to know what that was ? 

You. You ask very odd questions. I never thought 
much about religion. I go to church now and then, and 
pay every man his own. That's all I know about it. 

Tr. I am very sorry you know no more about religion 
than that. It is right that you should go to church, and 
pay every man his due ; but much more is necessary, if 
you would be happy when you die. 

You. Sir, I hope to be saved as well as others, and 
should be glad to be put in the right way if I am wrong. 
I am no scholar, nor have I had time to mind religion 
much. 

Tr. It may be your ignorance arises rather from want 
of inclination than from want of time. It is not neces- 
sary, in order to salvation, that you be a great scholar ; but 
absolutely necessary that you be horn again. 

You. Bor?i again f sir, bor7i again ! Pray what do you 
mean ? 

Tr. I mean that no man can be sav^ed, whose heart is 
,not changed by grace, and himself thus made a new crea- 
ture. 



2 ONE THING NEEDFUL. 

You. I don't understand you. This is a new doctrine 
to me. Excuse me, sir, if I ask what religion you are of; 
for I have heard of many false prophets. 

Tr. I am a Christian and a Protestant. I believe no 
doctrines but those of the Bible. 

You. Pray tell me if there is anything in my Bible 
about being born again ? 

Tr. Yes, a great deal. Our blessed Lord said to Nic- 
odemus, " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be 
horn again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." " Except 
a man be horn of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter 
into the kingdom of God." John 3 : 3, and 2. "Being 
horn agaiji,'' says Peter, "not of corruptible seed, but of 
incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth 
for ever." 1 Peter, 1 : 23. John, speaking of those who 
believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, says, " Which were horn, 
not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of 
man, but of God." John 1 : 13. And again, " Whoso- 
ever is horn of God doth not commit sin ; for his seed 
remaineth in him ; and he cannot sin, because he is horn of 
God." 1 John, 3:9. " Whosoever believeth that Jesus 
is the Christ, is horn of God.'' 1 John, 5:1. 

You. Well, sir, this is all very good ; I remember it 
now in my Bible. 

Tr. But, my friend, as you find that a man cannot be 
saved except he be born again, are you born again ? 

You. Why, sir, as to that, I hope so. 

Tr. Pray why do you hope so ? What evidence have 
you ? 

You. I was baptized. I am honest and industrious, 
and live in peace with my neighbors. I am neither a pro- 
fane swearer, a drunkard, nor a Sabbath-breaker, and 
have done no harm to any one. 

Tr. But observe, my friend, it is by the new birth, not 
by baptism, nor by any works of righteousness which we 
have done, (Titus 3 : 5,) that we are made children of 
grace. It is when this new birth takes place, when we are 
born again, that, as the Scripture says, old things pass 
away, and all things become new. 2 Cor. 5 : 17. 

You. Sir, I should be glad to hear more of this matter. 
I confess I have been very careless and ignorant ; will you 
please to tell me what it is to be born again ? 



ONE THING NEEDFUL. 3 

Tr. To be born again implies, first, a discovery that 
you are a poor, lost sinner ; which will make you deeply 
concerned about your soul. Hitherto, by your own ac- 
count, you have felt easy and secure ; you have been satis- 
fied with having as much religion as your neighbors, or 
rather with none 'at all. Now a new creature is con- 
vinced that the care of the soul is the one thing needful ; 
and that it would be dreadful to gain the whole world at 
the expense of losing the soul. 

You. If this be the case, I am all wrong, for I have 
minded my body more than my soul. But go on. 

Tr. The new creature will habitually pra?/. Prayer is 
his breath. A true Christian can no more live without 
prayer, than without breathing. As soon as Paul was con- 
verted, he prayed ; and so will every soul that is born 
again. The whole need not a physician, but the sick do ; 
and they will look to Christ for healing. But none truly 
desire to be saved till they feel that they are lost. 

You. Alas ! I scarcely ever pray. Too often I lie 
down and itse up like a beast. Lord, teach me to pray ! 

Tr. Again, a true Christian sees the odious nature of 
sin, and abhors himself on account of it. The infinitely 
holy law of God condemns a man for one wrong action, 
or thought ; for, as the apostle says, " Whosoever shall 
offend in one point, is guilty of all." James 2 : 10. And 
*' Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things 
written in the book of the law to do them." Gal. 3 : 10. 
The least offender is therefore liable to God's wrath in 
hell for ever. 

You. I know I am a sinner, and at times have been 
concerned about it, especially when I was sick, or in great 
danger. At such times I was afraid of going to hell ; but 
my fears soon wore off. Now I see I have awful reason to 
be afraid. God be merciful to me ! 

Tr. The true Christian looks to Christ, and to him 
alone, for deliverance from the wrath to come. When 
the distressed jailer asked the Apostle Paul what he must 
do to be saved, he was directed to " believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ." 

You. Pray, sir, what is it to believe? I have often 
heard of faith, and used to think I was a believer, but 
never knew what faith is. 



4 ONE THING NEEDFUL. 

Tr. Faith includes two things. First, a believing of 
the truths and doctrines of the Gospel, especially those that 
respect the person of Christ as God united with man, and 
what he did and suffered in our stead. And secondly, 
trusting in Christ, and relying on him alone for salvation, 
under an affecting sense of our own unw^rthiness and guilt. 

You. But, sir, does not this trust in Christ make people 
careless about good works 1 

Tr. By no means ; for good works are the fruits of 
faith ; and if faith be true, it always works by love. 

You. Have you anything more to add ? 

Tr. Yes, a true Christian is holy ; for " without holi- 
ness no man can see the Lord." He cannot live in sin, for 
he hates it, and is dead to it. He cannot be a drunkard, 
but will wholly avoid strong drink for fear of temptation. 
He cannot be a swearer, for he now loves and fears God. 
He cannot be dishonest, for now he loves his neighbor as 
himself. He cannot be unchaste, for God has given him a 
clean heart. He cannot be a Sabbath-breaker, for the 
delight of his soul is to employ the Sabbath wholly in relig- 
ion. Thus you see that faith produces good works. 

You. All this is right ; and I wish from my heart I 
were as you say. Pray tell me how I may become so ? 

Tr. Consider prayerfully what you need. You need 
a heart to love tlie great God supremely : and can you 
refuse to love Him who is infinitely amiable ? You need 
a heart to confess and forsake all sin : and are you too 
proud to comply, or such a slave that you cannot quit sin ?^ 
You need an interest in Christ : and will you not now come 
to him, who, though Lord of all worlds, has once died foi 
sinners ? O hesitate no longer. Say heartily, " I cannot 
live without God, without Christ, without hope." " Lord, 
I believe ; help thou mine unbelief" 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i\o. 7. 



THE 



HAPPY NEGRO. 



BY THE LATE AMBROSE SERLE, ESQ, 

ENGLAND. 




We knew not how to part. — Page 3. 

Every day's observation convinces me that the children 
of God are made so by his own special grace, and that all 
means are equally effectual with him, whenever he is pleased 
to employ them for conversion. 

Being called some years ago to visit the United States, 
I was walking by myself over a considerable plantation, 
amused with its husbandry, and comparing it with that 
of my own country, when I came within a little distance 
of a middle-aged Negro who was tilling the ground. T 
felt a strong inclination, unusual with me, to converse 
with him. After asking him some little questions about 
his work, which he answered very sensibly, I wished him 

VCL, I. 4^ 



4 THE HAPPY NEGRO. 

to tell me whether he was contented and happy. " Massa,'* 
said he, looking seriously upon me, " I have a wife and 
children ; my Massa take care of them : I have good Massa 
who teach me to read ; and I read good book that makes me 
happy." I am glad, replied I, to hear you say so ; and 
pray what is the good book you read ? " The Bible, Massa, 
God's own book." Do you understand, friend, as w^ell as 
read this book ? for many can read the words well who 
cannot get hold of the true and good sense. "O Massa," 
says he, " I read the book much before I understand ; but 
at last I felt pain in my heart ; I found things in the book 
that cut me to pieces." Ah, said I, and what things were 
they ? " Why, Massa, I found that I had a bad heart, 
Massa, a very bad heart indeed ; T felt pain that God would 
destroy me, because I w^as wicked, and done nothing as I 
should do. God w^as holy, and I was very vile and naughty ; 
I could have nothing from him but fire and brimstone in 
hell." In short, he entered into a full account of his con- 
victions of sin, (w^hich w^ere indeed as deep and piercing as 
almost any I had ever heard of,) and what Scriptures came 
to his mind which he had read, that both probed to the bot- 
tom of his sinful heart, and were made the means of light 
and comfort to his soul. 

1 then inquired of him w'hat ministry or means he made 
use of, and found that his master was an honest, plain sort 
of man, w^ho had taught his servants to read, but who had 
not, however, conversed with this negro upon the state of 
his soul. I asked him likewise how he got comfort under 
all this trial ? " O Massa," said he, " it was Christ gave 
me comfort by his dear word. He bade me come unto him 
and he w^ould give me rest, for I was very weary and heavy 
laden." And here he went through a line of precious 
texts, showing, by his artless comment upon them as he 
w^ent along, what great things God had done in the course 
of some years for his soul. 

Being rather more acquainted with doctrinal truths and 
the analogy of the Bible than he had been, or, in his situa- 
tion, could easily be, I had a mind to try how far a simple, 
untutored experience, graciously given without the usual 
means, could carry a man from some speculative errors. I 
therefore asked him some questions about the m*erit of 
works, the justification of a sinner, the powder of grace, and 



THE HAPPY .NEGRO. 3 

the like. I own I was as much astonished as I was delight- 
ed with the sweet spirit and simplicity of his answers, with 
the heavenly wisdom that God had put into the mind of this 
negro. His discourse, flowing merely from the richness 
of grace, with a tenderness and expression far " beyond the 
reach of art," perfectly charmed me. On the other hand, 
my entering into all his feelings, together with an account 
to him that thus and thus the Lord in his mercy dealt with 
all his children, and had dealt with me, drew streams of 
joyful tears down his black face, so that we looked upon 
each other and talked with that inexpressible glow of Chris- 
tian affection that made me more than ever believe, what I 
have often too thoughtlessly professed to believe, the com- 
munion of saints. 1 shall never forget how the poor excel- 
lent creature seemed to hang upon my lips, and to eat my 
very words, when I enlarged upon the love of Christ to poor 
sinners, the free bounty and tender mercy of God, the fre- 
quent and delightful sense he gives of his presence, the 
faith he bestows in his promises, the victories this faith is 
enabled to get over trials and temptations, the joy and peace 
in believing, the hope in life and death, and the glorious 
expectation of immortality. To take off his eager, de- 
lighted, animated air and manner, would have been a master- 
piece for a Reynolds. 

Though my conversation lasted at least two or three 
hours, I scarcely ever enjoyed the happy swiftness of time 
so sweetly in all my life. We knew not how to part. He 
would accompany me as far as he might ; and I felt, on my 
side, such a delight in the artless, savory, solid, unaffected 
experience of this dear soul, that I could have been glad to 
see him often then, or to see his like at any time now ; but 
my situation rendered it impossible. I therefore took an 
affectionate adieu with an ardor equal to the warmest and 
the most ancient friendship ; telling him, that neither the 
color of his body, nor the condition of his present life, could 
prevent him from being my dear brother in our dear Sav- 
iour ; and that though we must part now, never to see each 
other again in this world, I had no doubt of our having 
another joyful meeting in our Father's house, where we 
should live together, and love one another, throughout a 
long and happy eternity. " Amen, Amen, my dear Massa ; 
God bless you, and poor me too, for ever and ever." If I 



4 THE HAPPY NEGRO. 

had been an angel from heaven he could not have received 
me ^vith more evident delight than he did ; nor could I 
have considered him with a more sympathetic regard if he 
had been a long-known Christian of the good old sort, 
grown up into my affections in the course of many years. 

Happy world, if all were Christians ! or at least happy 
Christians, if tliey showed more of this brotherly love to 
each other in the world ! None can deny that so it ought 
to be. O that every one who names the name of Christ, 
and believes himself to be a member of his undivided body, 
would pray for faith and love to make him a consistent fol-' 
lower of Jesus. 

Blessed Lord ! Fountain of life and love ! send forth 
the Spirit of thy Son into my heart, and into the hearts of 
all my brethren ; that, waving all mean and selfish distinc- 
tions, we may first love thee above all things, and then each 
other for thy sake, with a pure heart, fervently. Subdue 
animosities and all the separating corruptions of the flesh, 
and let us consider ourselves as hrethren, fellow-heirs of the 
grace of life, persons who shall pass an eternity together ; 
as parts of each other, and members, holy Jesus, of thy 
body, thy flesh, and thy bones. Even so let it be, for thy 
glory, and for our present and eternal consolation through 
thy grace ! 

How happily does this narrative illustrate the blessed 
reality of vital religion! Christians of every age and 
nation have all spoken, in spite of their several peculiari- 
ties, one common language of the heart about God and 
Christ, sin and holiness, time and eternity ; their religious 
hopes and fears, their joys and their sorrows, have been 
the same. As on the day of Pentecost the truth of the 
Gospel was proved by the fact that one person spoke many 
languages, so has it been verified in all ages since, by the 
fact that many persons, of every kindred, nation, tongue, 
and people, to whom the Gospel has come, have spoken one 
language. 



PUBLISHED BT THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 8. 



ON 



THE LORD'S DAY. 







Pekimit a friend respectfully and affectionately to remind 
you of a divine law too much forgotten by many, perhaps 
by you — Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. 

This is the command of God ; " the God in whose hand 
our breath is, and whose are all our ways ;" the God who 
gives us all our time, and who allows us six days out of 
seven for worldly concerns. " Six days shalt thou labor, 
and do all thy work ; but the seventh day is the Sabbath of 
the Lord thy God." He claims this day as his own. And 
can you refuse so just a claim ? He has hallowed this day ; 
he has reserved it for his own service ; he has ordained, that 
from the beginning of the world to the end of it, the children 
of men should employ the sacred hours in holy acts of 
private or public worship. 

Say, now, are you not solemnly bound to obey the heav- 
enly command ? Consider how necessary and reasonable 



2 ON THE LORD S DAY. 

the appointment ! It is necessary, were it only to give suit- 
able rest to the bodies of man and beast. Without this mer- 
ciful institution, how many would have allowed neither 
themselves nor their servants proper seasons of repose ! If 
there were no Sabbaths in a nation, there would soon be 
no religion ; and what then would become of the interests 
of morality ? The merciful God appoints a Sabbath for 
your good. It is for your sake that he requires it to be 
kept holy. He seeks your good, your everlasting good, 
and for this purpose he has not only hallowed this day, but 
has also blessed it. It is a day of special grace. The King 
of heaven, sitting on the throne of mercy, gives audience 
on this best of days to the assembled subjects of his gra- 
cious empire. Millions of happy spirits now in heaven 
will bless God to all eternity for the spiritual blessings in 
Christ Jesus, which, when on earth, they received on this 
happy day ; and thousands now on their way to glory, find 
it good for them to draw near to God, and justly esteem 
" a day in his courts better than a thousand." So that you 
are an enemy to yourself, if you profane this day. If you 
love your own soul, why will you lose the opportunity of 
being happy ? 

If you study 07ily your present good, you will keep the 
Sabbath. God honors them that honor him. Many have 
found that a Sabbath well spent is followed by a prosper- 
ous week ; for it is " the blessing of the Lord that maketh 
rich ;" and how can you expect this blessing if you disobey 
him ? Lord Chief Justice Hale made the following obser- 
vation : " I have found that a due observing the duty of 
the Lord's day, has ever joined to it a blessing upon the 
rest of my time ; and the week that has been so begun, has 
been blessed and prosperous to me. And on the other hand, 
when I have been negligent of the duties of this day, the 
rest of the week has been unsuccessful and unhappy to my 
secular employment." 

And has not God frequently manifested his anger against 
Sabbath breakers ? How many have perished in the midst 
of their amusements, and been suddenly called to the bar 
of God while engaged in actual rebellion against him ! 
How many lovers of pleasure have been known, whose 
dying agonies have been awfully increased by the sad 
remembrance of the manner in which they spent their for- 



ox THE LORD'S DAY. 3 

mer Sabbaths ! And how many unhappy criminals have in 
their last moments ascribed their ruin to this sin ! Beware 
of a vice so dangerous in its tendency, so fatal in its con- 
sequences ; for if you forsake God, he may justly forsake 
you, and then you are undone for ever. 

Do you hope to be happy in heaven when you leave this 
world ? I know you do. But consider how the saints in 
glory are employed. They keep perpetual Sabbath, and 
the worship of God is their constant delight. But how can 
you reasonably hope for heaven, unless your heart is formed, 
through grace, for its holy employments ? and how could 
you enjoy an eternal Sabbath, if you now turn your back 
upon God's worship, or say of the Sabbath, " What a wea- 
riness is it ?" 

As you estimate the favor of God — as you value your 
immortal soul — let the time past suffice to have rebelled 
against -your Maker. Rebel no longer. Now say, " Lord, 
it is enough. I have fought against thee too long. For- 
give my sins for Christ's sake, and give me grace to conse- 
crate all my powers to thee." No more let worldly business 
or vain amusements engross these holy hours. You must 
not rob God ; the day is all his own. Let it be a whole 
day — a day as long as others. Say not. What harm is 
there in taking a little amusement after divine service ? 
Think a moment, and you will perceive the harm. Why 
should you erase the impressions of holy things as soon as 
they are made 1 Is not retirement as necessary as public 
worship ? Improve then the leisure of the Sabbath. Retire 
and read your Bible. Converse with God in prayer. Con- 
verse with your own heart. Converse with good books. 
And above all, be concerned that the Gospel which you hear 
may have its saving effect on your own heart. Have you 
heard of Christ and salvation by him ? Let it be your chief 
concern to "be found in him;" not trusting to your own 
works of righteousness, but to the righteousness he has 
brought in, and which is " to and upon all them that be- 
lieve." 

Have you heard of the natural state of man as a sinner ? 
Apply this to yourself, and be humbled in the dust of hu- 
miliation. Have you been told from the word of God, that 
" except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom 
of God ?" Go humbly, and with a heart broken for sin, pray 



4 ON THE lord's DAY. 

for the Holy Spirit in all his gracious influences, that you 
may be sanctified throughout. Has some holy temper, or 
moral duty, been recommended to you from the pulpit ? 
Endeavor to fix the necessity and beauty of it in your mind, 
that so you may bring it into habitual exercise. This is the 
way to keep a Christian Sabbath ; and thus proceeding in 
the fear of God, you may humbly hope for God's blessing 
in the present world, and in the world to come. 

On the morning of the Sabbath let your reflections be 
such as these : " This day is to be kept holy to the Lord ; 
no trifles must be talked of^ no needless work or world-busi- 
ness, no play or diversion attended to ; but Christ and his 
salvation only be thought of. Before the next Lord's day I 
may be in eternity, and be fixed in heaven or hell forever. 
Let me then spend this day as if I were sure it would be 
my last. I am going where prayer is wont to be made ; 
Lord, teach me to pray in the faith of the Gospel, with 
reverence, humility, earnestness of desire after the light of 
thy countenance, and confidence of finding mercy through 
the blood of Jesus. May I ' sing with the Spirit, and with 
the understanding also;' feeling in my heart what I sing 
with my lips, and rejoicing in the free love of Christ to 
guilty men, to me a sinner. O may I hear with serious- 
ness, receive the truth in the love of it, and lay it to my 
heart ; remembering that by the word my soul must be 
profited and saved, or else be judged and condemned. O 
God of all grace, let not this day be spent in vain, for the 
sake of my precious soul, and for the glory of thy holy 
name, through Jesus Christ." 

Blessed is the man that keepeth the Sahhath from pollut- 
ing it. Isaiah, 56 : 2. 

Accept, candid reader, this friendly admonition, flowing 
from a sincere desire for your benefit. Give it a second 
reading ; and may God, whose cause and glory, together 
with your best interests, are pleaded in this Tract, be pleased 
to give it his blessing, for Christ's sake ! 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 9, 



THE 



DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



BY P.EV. LEGH UIOHMOND, 




J. 



T IS a delightful em. 
ployment to trace and 
di^^coxer the operations 
J J of divine ^racc, as they 
iti^'^-* ^" ^^® manifested in the 
dispositions and lives of 
"^ God's real children. It 
it^-ijifflVi, - is peculiarly gratifying to 
1 1 I * obser\e how frequently, 
M^'<^^^^ among the poorer classes 
. "^^ of mankind, the sunshine 
^^&S^of mercy beams upon the 
^ ^^^^^ heart, and bears witness 
'^£^^:^i>^c;.su^^_ .-^'-sM the image of Christ 

which the Spirit of God has impressed thereupon. Among 
such, the sincerity and simplicity of the Christian char- 
acter appear unencumbered by those fetters to spirit- 



2 DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 

uality of mind and conversation, which too often prove a 
great hinderance to those who live in the higher ranks. 
Many are the difficulties which riches, polished society, 
worldly importance, and high connections throw in the 
way of religious profession. Happy indeed it is, (and some 
such happy instances I know,) where grace has so strik- 
ingly supported its conflict with natural pride, self-impor- 
tance, the allurements of luxury, ease, and worldly opinions, 
that the noble and mighty appear adorned with genuine 
poverty of spirit, self-denial, humble-mindedness, and deep 
spirituality of heart. 

But, in general, if we w^ant to see religion in its purest 
character, we must look for it among the poor of this world, 
who are rich in faith. How often is the poor man's cot- 
tage the palace of God ! Many of us can truly declare, 
that we have there learned our most valuable lessons of 
faith and hope, and there witnessed the most striking 
demonstrations of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God. 

The character which the present narrative is designed 
to introduce to the notice of my readers, is given from real 
life and circumstance. I first became acquainted with the 
Dairyman's Daughter by the reception of a letter, a part 
of which I transcribe from the original, now before me. 

"Rev. Sir — I take the liberty to write to you. Pray 
excuse me, for I have never spoken to you. But I once 

heard you preach at church. I believe you are a 

faithful preacher, to warn sinners to flee from the wrath 
that will be revealed against all those that live in sin, and 
die impenitent. 

" I was much rejoiced to hear of those marks of love 
and affection which you showed to that poor soldier of the 
S. D. militia. Surely the love of Christ sent you to that 
poor man ; may that love ever dwell richly in you by faith. 
May it constrain you to seek the wandering souls of men, 
with the fervent desire to spend and be spent for his glory. 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. O 

" Sir, be fervent in prayer with God for the conviction 
and conversion of sinners. He has promised to answer the 
prayer of faith, that is put up in his Son's name. ' Ask 
what you will, and it shall be granted you.' Through 
faith in Christ we rejoice in hope, and look up in expecta- 
tion of that time drawing near, when all shall know and 
fear the Lord, and when a nation shall be born in a day. 

" What a happy time, when Christ's kingdom shall 
come ! Then shall < his will be done on earth, as it is in 
heaven.' Men shall be daily fed with the manna of his 
love, and delight themselves in the Lord all the day long. 

" Sir, I began to write this on Sunday, being detained 
from attending on public worship. My dear and only 

sister, living as a servant with Mrs. , was so ill that 

I came here to attend in her place, and on her. But now 
she is no more. 

" She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper, 
and commemorate his precious death and sufferings. I 
told her, as well as I was able, what it was to receive 
Christ into her heart ; but as her weakness of body in- 
creased, she did not mention it again. She seemed quite 
resigned before she died. I do hope she has gone from a 
world of death and sin, to be with God for ever. 

" My sister expressed a wish that you might bury her. 
The minister of our parish, whither she will be carried, 
cannot come. She died on Tuesday morning, and will be 
buried on Friday or Saturday, (whichever is most conven- 
ient to you,) at three o'clock in the afternoon. Please to 
send an answer by the bearer, to let me know whether you 
can comply with this request. 

'• From your unworthy servant, 

"Elizabeth W e." 

I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain of 
devotion which the letter breathed. It was but indifferently 
written and spelt ; but this the rather tended to endear the 



4 

hitherto unknown writer, as it seemed characteristic of the 
union of humbleness of station with eminence of piety. I 
felt quite thankful that I was favored with a correspondent 
of this description ; the more so, as such characters were, 
at that time, very rare in the neighborhood. As soon as it 
was read, I inquired who was the bearer of it. 

" He is waiting at the outside of the gate, sir," was 
the reply. 

I went out to speak to him ; and saw a venerable old 
man, whose long hoary hair and deeply wrinkled counte- 
nance commanded more than common respect. He was 
resting his arm and head upon the gate, the tears were 
streaming down his cheeks. On my approach, he made 
a low bow, and said, 

" Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter ; 
but I fear you will think us very bold in asking you to take 
so much trouble." 

"By no means," I replied; "I shall be truly glad to 
oblige you and any of your family in this matter." 

1 desired him to come into the house, and then said, 

" What is your occupation ?" 

" Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage 

at , six miles from here. I have rented a few acres 

of ground, and kept a few cows, which, in addition to my 
day labor, has been my means of supporting and bringing 
up my family." 

"What family have you ?" 

"^ A wife, now getting very aged and helpless ; two 
sons and one daughter ; for my other poor dear child is just 
departed out of this wicked world." 

" I hope, for a better." 

" I hope so too ; poor thing, she did not use to take to 
such good ways as her sister ; but I do believe that her 
sister's manner of talking with her before she died, was 
the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it is to have 
such a child as mine is ! I never thought about my own 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 5 

soul seriously till she, poor girl, begged and prayed me to 
flee from the wrath to come." 

" How old are you ?" 

" Turned seventy, and my wife is older ; we are get- 
ting old and almost past our labor ; but our daughter has 
left a good place, where she lived in service, on purpose to 
come home and take care of us and our little dairy. And 
a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is." 

" Was she always so?" 

" No, sir ; when she was very young, she was all for 
the world, and pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed 
we were all very ignorant, and thought, if we took care for 
this life, and wronged nobody, we should be sure to go to 
heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, like 
ourselves, were strangers to the ways of God and the word 
of his grace. But the eldest of them went out to service ; 

and some years ago she heard a sermon preached at 

church, and from that time she became quite an altered 
creature. She began to read the Bible, and became quite 
sober and steady. The first time she came home after- 
wards to see us, she brought us a guinea which she had 
saved from her wages, and said, as we were getting old, 
she was sure we should want help ; adding, that she did 
not wish to spend it in fine clothes, as she used to do, only 
to feed pride and vanity. She would rather show grati- 
tude to her dear father and mother ; and this, she said, 
because Christ had shown such mercy to her. 

" We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight 
in her company, for her temper and behavior were so hum- 
ble and kind, she seemed so desirous to do us good both in 
soul and body, and was so different from what we had ever 
seen her before, that, careless and ignorant as we had been, 
we began to think there must be something real in religion, 
or it never could alter a person so much in a little time. 

" Her younger sister, poor soul, used to laugh and ridi- 
cule her at that timp, and said her head was turned with 



O DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 

her new ways. ' No, sister,' she would say, ' not my head, 
but I hope my heart is turned from the love of sin to the 
love of God. I wish you may one day see, as I do, the 
danger and vanity of your present condition.' 

" Her poor sister would reply, ' I do not want to hear 
any of your preaching : 1 am no worse than other people, 
and that is enough for me.' ' Well, sister,' Elizabeth 
would say, ' if you will not hear me, you cannot hinder 
me from praying for you, which I do with all my heart.' 

" And now, sir, I believe those prayers are answered. 
For when her sister was taken ill, Elizabeth went to wait in 
her place and take care of her. She said a great deal to 
her about her soul ; and the poor girl began to be so deeply 
affected, and sensible of her past sin, and so thankful for her 
sister's kind behavior, that it gave her great hopes indeed 
for her sake. When my wife and I went to see her as she 
lay sick, she told us how grieved and ashamed she was of 
her past life ; but said, she had a hope, through grace, that 
her dear sister's Saviour would be her Saviour too ; for she 
saw her own sinfulness, felt her own helplessness, and only 
wished to cast herself upon Christ as her hope and salvation. 

" And now, sir, she is gone, and I hope and think her 
sister's prayers for her conversion to God have been an- 
swered. The Lord grant the same, for her poor father and 
mother's sake likewise." 

This conversation was a very pleasing commentary 
upon the letter which I had received, and made me anxious 
both to comply with the request, and to become acquainted 
with the writer. I promised the good old Dairyman I 
would attend the funeral on Friday, at the appointed hour ; 
and after some more conversation respecting his own state 
of mind under the present trial, he went away. 

He was a reverend old man ; his furrowed cheeks, 
white locks, weeping eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble gait, 
were characteristic of the aged pilgrim ; and as he slowly 
departed, supported by a stick, which seemed to have been 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 7 

the companion of many a long year, a train of reflections 
occurred, which I retrace with emotion and pleasure. 

At the appointed hour I arrived at the church ; and 
after a little while was summoned to meet, at the church- 
yard gate, a very decent funeral procession. The aged 
parents, the elder brother and the sister, with other rela- 
tives, formed an affecting group. I was struck with the 
humble, pious, and pleasing countenance of the young 
woman from whom I received the letter ; it bore the marks 
of great seriousness without affectation, and of much seren- 
ity mingled with a glow of devotion. 

A circumstance occurred during the burial service, 
which I think it right to mention. 

A man of the village, who had hitherto been of a very 
careless and even profligate character, came into the church 
through mere curiosity, and with no better purpose than 
that of a vacant gazing at the ceremony. He came like- 
wise to the grave ; and during the burial service his mind 
received a deep, serious conviction of his sin and danger, 
through some of the expressions contained therein. It was 
an impression that never wore off, but gradually ripened 
into the most satisfactory evidence of an entire change, of 
which I had many and long continued proofs. He always 
referred to the burial service, and to some particular sen- 
tences of it, as the clearly ascertained instrument of bring- 
ing him, through grace, to the knowledge of the truth. 

The day was therefore one to be remembered. Re- 
membered let it be by those who love to hear " the short 
and simple annals of the poor." 

Was there not a manifest and happy connection be- 
tween the circumstances that providentially brought the 
serious and the careless to the same grave on that day to- 
gether ? How much do they lose, who neglect to trace the 
leadings of God in providence, as links in the chain of his 
eternal purpose of redemption and grace ! 

" While infidf^ls mav scoff", let up ndore." 



8 dairyman's daughter. 

After the service was concluded, I had a short conver- 
sation with the good old couple and their daughter. Her 
aspect and address were highly interesting. I promised to 
visit their cottage ; and from that time became well ac- 
quainted with them. Let us bless the God of the poor, and 
pray continually that the poor may become rich in faith, 
and the rich be made poor in spirit. 

A sweet solemnity often possesses the mind, while re- 
tracing past intercourse with departed friends. How much 
is this increased, when they were such as lived and died in 
the Lord ! The remembrance of former scenes and con- 
versations with those who, we believe, are now enjoying 
the uninterrupted happiness of a better world, fills the 
heart with pleasing sadness, and animates the soul with the 
hopeful anticipation of a day when the glory of the Lord 
shall be revealed in the assembling of all his children to- 
gether, never more to be separated. Whether they wei:e 
rich or poor, while on earth, it is a matter of trifling con- 
sequence ; the valuable part of their character is, that 
they are now kings and priests unto God. In the number 
of departed believers, with whom I once loved to converse 
on the grace and glory of the kingdom of God, was the 
Dairyman's Daughter. I propose now to give some further 
account of her, and hope it may be useful to every reader. 

A few days after the funeral of the younger sister, I 
rode over to visit the family in their own cottage. The 
principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow lanes, 
beautifully overarched with groves of nut and other trees, 
which screened the traveller from the rays of the sun, and 
afforded many interesting objects for admiration, in the 
beautiful flowers, shrubs, and young trees, which grew 
upon the high banks on each side of the road. Many gro- 
tesque rocks, with little streams of water occasionally 
breaking out of tliem, varied the recluse scenery, and pro- 
duced a new, romantic, and pleasing effect. 

Here and there, the more distant and rich prospect 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 9 

beyond appeared through gaps and hollow places on the 
road-side. Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and 
light-houses on their summits, appeared at these intervals ; 
rich cornfields were also visible through some of the open 
places ; and now and then, when the road ascended any 
hill, the sea, with ships at various distances, opened de- 
lightfully upon me. But, for the most part, shady seclu- 
sion, and beauties of a more minute and confined nature, 
gave a character to the journey, and invited contemplation. 

What do not they lose, who are strangers to serious 
meditation on the wonders and beauties of created nature ! 
How gloriously the God of creation shines in his works ! 
Not a tree, or leaf, or flower ; not a bird, or insect, but pro- 
claims in glowing language, " God made me." 

As I approached the village where the good old Dairy- 
man dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving a few 
cows before him towards a yard and hovel which adjoined 
his cottage. I advanced very near him, without his ob- 
serving me, for his sight was dim. On my calling out to 
him, he started at the sound of my voice, but with much 
gladness of countenance welcomed me, saying, " Bless 
your heart, sir, I am very glad you are come ; we have 
looked for you every day this week." 

The cottage-door opened, and the daughter came out, 
followed by her aged and infirm mother. -The sight of me 
naturally brought to recollection the grave at which we 
had before met. Tears of affection mingled with the smile 
of satisfaction with which I was received by these worthy 
cottagers. I dismounted, and was conducted through a 
very neat little garden, part of which was shaded by two 
large, overspreading elm-trees, to the house. Decency 
and cleanliness were manifest within and without. 

This, thought I, is a fit residence for piety, peace, and 
contentment. May 1 learn a fresh lesson in each, through 
the blessing of God on this visit. 

" Sir," said the daughter, " we are not worthy that you 
VOL. I. 5 



10 DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 

should come under our roof. We take it very kind that 
you should come so far to see us.'' 

" My Master,"' I replied, " came a great deal farther to 
visit us, poor sinners. He left the bosom of his Father, 
laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world on 
a visit of mercy and love ; and ought not we, if we profess 
to follow him, to bear each other's infirmities, and go about 
doing good as he did?" 

The old man now came in, and joined his wife and 
daughter in giving me a cordial welcome. Our conversa- 
tion soon turned to the late loss they had sustained; and 
the pious and sensible disposition of the daughter was pecu- 
liarly manifested, as w^ell in what she said to her parents, 
as in what she said to me. I was struck with the good 
sense and agreeable manner which accompanied her ex- 
pressions of devotedness to God, and love to Christ for the 
great mercies which he had bestowed upon her. She 
seemed anxious to improve the opportunity of my visit to 
the best purpose, for her own and her parents' sake ; yet 
there was nothing of unbecoiiiing forwardness, no self-con- 
sequence or conceitedness, in her behavior. She united 
the firmness and earnestness of the Christian, with the 
modesty of the female and the dutifulness of the daughter. 
It was impossible to be in her company, and not observe 
how truly her temper and conversation adorned the evan- 
gelical principles which she professed. 

I soon discovered how eager and how successful also 
she had been in her endeavors to bring her father and 
mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth. 
This is a lovely circumstance in the character of a young 
Christian. If it hath pleased God, in the free dispensa- 
tions of his mercy, to call the child by his grace, while the 
parents remain still in ignorance and sin, how great is the 
duty of that child to do what is possible for the conversion 
of those to whom it owes its birth ! Happy is it when the 
ties of grace sanr-tify those of nature ! 



dairyman's daughter. IJ 

This aged couple evidently looked upon and spoke of 
their daughter as their teacher and admonisher in divine 
things, while they received from her every token of filial 
submission and obedience, testified by continual endeavors 
to serve and assist them to the utmost, in the little concerns 
of the household. 

The religion of this young woman was of a highly spir- 
itual character, and of no ordinary attainment. Her views 
of the divine plan in saving the sinner, were clear and 
scriptural. She spoke much of the joys and sorrows which, 
in the course of her religious progress, she had experi- 
enced ; but she was fully sensible that there is far more in 
real religion than mere occasional transition from one frame 
of mind and spirit to another. She believed that the experi- 
mental acquaintance of the heart with God, principally con- 
sisted in so living upon Christ by faith, as to seek to live 
like him by love. She knew that the love of God towards 
the sinner, and the path of duty prescribed to the sinner, 
are both of an unchanojeable nature. In a believino; de- 
pendence on the one, and an affectionate walk in the other, 
she sought and found " the peace of God which passeth all 
understanding;" " for so he giveth his beloved rest.'' 

She had read but few books besides her Bible ; but 
these few were excellent in their kind, and she spoke of 
their contents as one who knew their value. In addition 
to a Bible and Common Prayer-Book, " Doddridge's Rise 
and Progress," " Romaine's Life, Walk, and Triumph of 
Faith," " Bunyan's Pilgrim," " Alleine's Alarm," " Bax- 
ter's Saints' Everlasting Rest," a hymn-book, and a few 
Tracts, composed her library. 

I observed in her countenance a pale and delicate look, 
which I afterwards found to be a presage of consumption ; 
and the idea then occurred to me that she would not live 
many years. In fact, it pleased God to take her hence 
about a year and a half after I first saw her. 

Time passed on swiftly with this little interesting fam- 



L2 dairyman's daughter. 

ily ; and after having partaken of some plain and whole- 
some refreshment, and enjoyed a few hours' conversation 
with them, I found it was necessary for me to return home- 
wards. 

"I thank you, sir," said the daughter, '' for your Chris- 
tian kindness to me and my friends. I believe the blessing 
of the Lord has attended your visit, and I hope I have ex- 
perienced it to be so. My dear father and mother will, I am 
sure, remember it, and I rejoice in an opportunity, which 
we have never before enjoyed, of seeing a serious minister 
under this roof. My Saviour has been abundantly good to 
me in plucking me ' as a brand from the burning,' and 
showing me the way of life and peace ; and I hope it is my 
heart's desire to live to his glory. But I long to see these 
dear friends enjoy the comfort and power of religion also." 

" I think it evident," I replied, " that the promise is ful- 
filled in their case : ' It shall come to pass, that at evening 
time it shall be light.' " 

" I believe it," she said, " and praise God for the blessed 
hope." 

" Thank him too that you have been the happy instru- 
ment of bringing them to the light." 

"I do, sir ; yet when I think of my own un worthiness 
and insufficiency, 1 rejoice with trembling." 

"Sir," said the good old man, "I am sure the Lord 
will reward you for this kindness. Pray for us, that, old 
as we are, and sinners as we have been, yet he would have 
mercy upon us at the eleventh hour. Poor Betsey strives 
hard for our sakes, both in body and soul ; she works hard 
all day to save us trouble, and I fear has not strength to 
support all she does ; and then she talks to us, and reads to 
us, and prays for us, that we may be saved from the wrath 
to come. Indeed, sir, she's a rare child to us." 

" Peace be to you, and all that belong to you." 

" Amen, and thank you, dear sir," was echoed from 
each tongue. 



DAIRYMAJSf'S DAUGHTER. 13 

Thus we parted for that time. My returning medita- 
tions were sweet, and, I hope, profitable. Many other 
visits were afterwards made by me to this peaceful cottage, 
and I always found increasing reason to thank God for the 
intercourse I enjoyed. 

I soon perceived that the health of the daughter was 
rapidly on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, 
which is the Lord's instrument for removing so many 
thousands every year from the land of the living, made 
hasty strides on her constitution. The hollow eye, the 
distressing cough, and the often too flattering red on the 
cheek, foretold the approach of death. 

I have often thought what a field for usefulness and 
affectionate attention on the part of ministers and Christian 
friends, is opened by the frequent attacks and lingering 
progress of consumptive illness. How many such precious 
opportunities are daily lost, where Providence seems in so 
marked a way to afford time and space for serious and godly 
instruction ! Of how many may it be said, " The way of 
peace have they not known ;" for not one friend came nigh, 
to warn them to " flee from the wrath to come." 

But the Dairyman's Daughter was happily made ac- 
quainted with the things which belonged to her everlasting 
pe^ce, before the present disease had taken root in her con- 
stitution. In my visit to her, I might be said rather to 
receive information than to impart it. Her mind was abun- 
dantly stored with divine truths, and her conversation was 
truly edifying. The recollection of it still produces a 
thankful sensation in my heart. 

I one day received a short note to the following effect : 

Dear Sir, — I should be very glad, if your conven- 
ience will allow, that you would come and see a poor 
unworthy sinner : my hour-glass is nearly run out, but I 
hope I can see Christ to be precious to my soul. Your 
conversation has oflen been blessed to me, and I now feel 



14 dairyman's daughter. 

the need of it more than ever. My father and mother send 
their duty to you. 

From your obedient and unworthy servant, 

Elizabeth W . 

I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my 
arrival at the Dairyman's cottage, his wife opened the 
door. The tears streamed down her cheek, as she silently 
shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to speak, 
but could not. I took her by the hand, and said, 

" My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wis- 
dom and mercy directs." 

"Oh! my Betsey, my dear girl, is so bad, sir; what 
shall I do without her ? — I thought I should have gone first 
to the grave, but " 

" But the Lord sees good, that, before you die yourself, 
you should behold your child safe home to glory. Is there 
ho mercy in this ?" 

" Oh ! dear sir, I am very old, and very weak ; and 
she is a dear child, the staff and prop of a poor old creature, 
as I am." 

As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, 
supported in an arm-chair by pillows, with every mark of 
rapid decline and approaching death. She appeared to me 
within three or four weeks at the farthest from her end. A 
sweet smile of friendly complacency enlightened her pale 
countenance, as she said, 

" This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I 
sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, and I can- 
not have long to continue here. My flesh and my heart 
fail, but God is the strength of my w^eak heart, and I trust 
will be my portion for ever." 

The conversation which follows was occasionally inter- 
rupted by her cough and want of breath. Her tone of 
voice was clear, though feeble; her manner solemn and 
collected ; and her eye, though more dim than formerly, 



dairyman's daughter. 15 

by no means wanting in liveliness as she spoke. I had 
frequently admired the superior language in which she ex- 
pressed her ideas, as well as the scriptural consistency with 
which she communicated her thoughts. She had a good 
natural understanding ; and grace, as is generally the case, 
had much improved it. On the present occasion I could 
not help thinking she was peculiarly favored. The whole 
strength of grace and nature seemed to be in full exercise. 

After taking my seat between the daughter and the 
mother, (the latter fixing her fond eyes upon her child 
with great anxiety while we were conversing,) I said to 
Elizabeth, — 

" I hope you enjoy a sense of the divine presence, and 
can rest all upon him who has ' been with thee,' and has 
kept ^ thee in all places whither thou hast gone,' and will 
bring thee into ' the land of pure delights, where saints 
immortal reign.' " 

" Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been some- 
times clouded, but I believe it has been partly owing to the 
great weakness and suffering of my bodily frame, and 
partly to the envy of my spiritual enemy, who wants to 
persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I have 
been a self-deceiver." 

" And do you give way to his suggestions ? Can you 
doubt, amidst such numerous tokens of past and present 
mercy ?" 

" No, sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear evi- 
dence of his love. I do not wish to add to my other sins 
that of denying his manifest goodness to my soul. I would 
acknowledge it to his praise and glory." 

" What is your present view of the state in which you 
were before he called you by his grace ?" 

" Sir, I was a proud, thoughtless girl ; fond of dress 
and finery ; I loved the world and the things that are in 
the world ; I lived in service among worldly people, and 
never had the happiness of being in a family where wor- 



16 dairyman's daughter. 

ship was regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for, 
either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday to 
church, more to see and be seen, than to pray, or hear the 
word of God. I thought I was quite good enough to be 
saved, and disliked and often laughed at religious people. 
I was in great darkness ; I knew nothing of the way of 
salvation ; I never prayed, nor was sensible of the awful 
danger of a prayerless state. I wished to maintain the 
character of a good servant, and was much lifted up when- 
ever I met with applause. I was tolerably moral and 
decent in my conduct, from motives of carnal and worldly 
policy ; but I was a stranger to God and Christ ; I neglect- 
ed my soul ; and had I died in such a state, hell must, and 
would justly, have been my portion." 

" How long is it since you heard the sermon which you 
hope, through God's blessirig, efiected your conversion ?" 

" About five years ago." 

" How was it brought about ?" 

" It was reported that a Mr. , who w^as detained 

by contrary winds from embarking on board ship, as chap- 
lain, to a distant part of the world, was to preach at 

church. Many advised me not to go, for fear he should 
turn my head ; as they said he held strange notions. But 
curiosity, and an opportunity of appearing in a new gown, 
which I was very proud of, induced me to ask leave to 
go. Indeed, sir, I had no better motives than vanity and 
curiosity. Yet thus it pleased the Lord to order it for his 
own glory. 

" I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd 
of people collected together. I often think of the contrary 
states of my mind during the former and latter part of the 
service. For a while, regardless of the worship of God, I 
looked around me, and was anxious to attract notice my- 
self. My dress, like that of too many gay, vain, andsilly 
girls, was much above my station, and very different from 
that which becomes a humble sinner, who has a modest 



dairyman's daughtek. 17 

sense of propriety and decency. The state of my mind 
was visible enough from the foolish finery of my apparel. 

" At length the clergyman gave out his text : ' Be ye 
clothed with humility.' He drew a comparison between 
the clothing of the body and that of the soul. At a very 
early part of his discourse, I began to feel ashamed of my 
passion for fine dressing and apparel ; but when he came to 
describe the garment of salvation with which a Christian is 
clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the nakedness of my 
own soul. I saw that I had neither the humility mentioned 
in the text, nor any one part of the true Christian char- 
acter. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed for shame 
on account of my pride. I looked at the minister, and he 
seemed to be as a messenger sent from heaven to open my 
eyes. -I looked at the congregation, and wondered whether 
any one else felt as I did. I looked at my heart, and it 
appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he spoke, and yet 
I felt a great drawing of heart to the words he uttered. 

" He opened the riches of divine grace in God's method 
of saving the sinner. I was astonished at what I had been 
doing all the days of my life. He described the meek, 
lowly, and humble example of Christ ; I felt proud, lofty, 
vain, and self-consequential. He represented Christ as 
'Wisdom;' I felt my ignorance. He held him forth as 
* Righteousness ;' I was convinced of my own guilt. He 
proved him to be 'Sanctification ;' I saw my corruption. 
He proclaimed him as ' Redemption ;' I felt my slavery to 
sin, and my captivity to Satan. He concluded with an 
animated address to sinners, in which he exhorted them to 
flee from the wrath to come, to cast off the love of out- 
ward ornannents, to put on Christ, and be clothed with 
true humility. 

" From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my 
soul, and the danger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed 
God for the sermon, although my mind was in a state of 
great confusion. 

VOL. I o* 



' 18 



" The preacher had brought forward the ruling passion 
of my heart, which was pride in outward dress ; and by 
the grace of God it was made instrumental to the awaken- 
ing of my soul. Happy, sir, would it be, if many a poor 
girl, like myself, were turned from the love of outward 
adorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that which 
is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet 
spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. 

" The greater part of the congregation, unused to such 
faithful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained of 
the severity of the preacher ; while a few, as I afterwards 
found, like myself, were deeply affected, and earnestly 
wished to hear him again. But he preached there no more. 

'- From that time I was led, through a course of private 
prayer, reading, and meditation, to see my lost estate as a 
sinner, and the great mercy of God, through Jesus Christ, 
in raising sinful dust and ashes to a share in the glorious 
happiness of heaven. And oh, sir, what a Saviour have I 
found ! He is more than I could ask or desire. In his ful- 
ness I have found all that my poverty could need ; in his 
bosom I have found a resting-place from all sin and sor- 
row ; in his word I have found strength against doubt and 
unbelief." 

" Were you not soon convinced," said I, " that your 
salvation must be an act of entire grace on the part of 
God, wholly independent of your own previous works or 
deservings ?" 

" Dear sir, what were my works before I heard that 
sermon, but evil, carnal, selfish, and ungodly ? The 
thoughts of my heart, from my youth upward, were only 
evil, and that continually. And my deservings, what were 
they, but the deservings of a fallen, depraved, careless 
soul, that regards neither law nor Gospel ? Yes, sir, I 
immediately saw that, if ever I were saved, it must be by 
the free mercy of God, and that the whole praise and honor 
of the work would be his from first to last." 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 19 

" What change did you perceive in yourself with re- 
spect to the world ?" 

" It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. I found 
it necessary to my peace of mind to ' come out from among 
them and be separate.' I gave myself to prayer ; and 
many a precious hour of secret delight I enjoyed in com- 
munion with God. Often I mourned over my sins, and 
sometimes had a great conflict through unbelief, fear, temp- 
tation to return back again to my old ways, and a variety 
of difficulties which lay in my way. But he who loved 
me with an everlasting love, drew me by his loving kind- 
ness, showed me the way of peace, gradually strengthened 
me in my resolutions of leading a new life, and taught me 
that, while without him I could do nothing, I yet might do 
all things through his strength." 

'• Did you not find many difficulties in your situation, 
owing to your change of principle and practice V 

" Yes, sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by 
some, scolded at by others, scorned by enemies, and pitied 
by friends. I was called hypocrite, saint, false deceiver, 
and many more names, which were meant to render me 
hateful in the sight of the world. But I esteemed the re- 
proach of the cross an honor. I forgave and prayed for 
my persecutors,, and remembered how very lately I had 
acted the same part towards others myself. I thought also 
that Christ endured the contradiction of sinners ; and, as 
the disciple is not above his Master, I was glad to be in any 
way conformed to his sufferings." 

" Did you not then feel for your relatives at home ?" 

" Yes, that I did indeed, sir ; they were never out of my 
thoughts. I prayed continually for them, and had a longing 
desire to do them good. In particular, I felt for my father 
and mother, as they were getting into years, and were very 
ignorant and dark in matters of religion." 

" Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, " ignorant and 
dark, sinful and miserable we were, till this dear Betsey — 



20 dairyman's daughter. 

this dear Betsey — this dear child, sir, brought Christ Jesus 
home to her poor father and mother's house." 

" No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought 
your poor daughter home to tell you what he had done for 
her soul, and I hope, to do the same for yours." 

At this moment the Dairyman came in with two pails 
of milk hanging from the yoke on his shoulders. He had 
stood behind the half-opened door for a few minutes, and 
heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and daughter. 

" Blessing and mercy upon her," said he, " it is very 
true ; she would leave a good place of service on purpose 
to live with us, that she might help us both in soul and 
body. Sir, don't she -look very ill ? I think, sir, we shan't 
have her here long." 

" Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. " All our 
times are in his hand, and happy it is that they are. I am 
willing to go ; are not you willing, my father, to part with 
me into his hands, who gave me to you at first ?" 

•' Ask me any question in the world but that," said the 
weeping father. 

" I know," said she, " you wish me to be happy." 

" I do, I do," answered he : " let the Lord do with you 
and us as best pleases him." 

I then asked her, on what her present consolations 
chiefly depended, in the prospect of approaching death. 

" Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ. When I look at 
myself, many sins, infirmities, and imperfections, cloud the 
image of Christ which I want to see in my own heart. But 
when I look at the Saviour himself, he is altogether lovely ; 
there is not one spot in his countenance, nor one cloud over 
all his perfections. 

" I think of his coming in the flesh, and it reconciles 
me to the sufferings of the body ; for he had them as well 
as \. I think of his temptations, and believe that he is able 
to succor when I am tempted. Then I think of his cross, 
and learn to bear mv own. I reflect on his death, and lono; 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 21 

to die unto sin, so that it may no longer have dominion over 
me. I sometimes think on his resurrection, and trust that 
he has given me a part in it, for I feel that my affections 
are set upon things above. Chiefly I take comfort in think- 
ing of him as at the right hand of the Father, pleading my 
cause, and rendering acceptable even my feeble prayers, 
both for myself and, as I hope, for my dear friends. 

" These are the views which, through mercy, I have 
of my Saviour's goodness ; and they have made me wish 
and strive in my poor way to serve him, to give myself up 
to him, and to labor to do my duty in that state of life into 
which it has pleased him to call me. 

" A thousand times I should have fallen and fainted, if 
he had not upheld me. I feel that I am nothing without 
him. He is all in all. 

" Just so far as I can cast my care upon him, I find 
strength to do his will. IMay he give me grace to trust him 
to the last moment ! I do not fear death, because I believe 
he has taken away its sting. And oh ! what happiness be- 
yond ! Tell me, sir, whether you think I am right. I 
hope I am under no delusion. I dare not look, for my 
hope, at any thing short of the entire fulness of Christ. 
When I ask my own heart a question, I am afraid to trust 
it, for it is treacherous, and has often deceived me. But 
when I ask Christ, he answers me with promises that 
strengthen and refresh me, and leave me no room to doubt 
his power and will to save. I am in his hands, and would 
remain there ; and I do believe that he will never leave nor 
forsake me, but will perfect the thing that concerns me. 
He loved me and gave himself for me, and I believe that 
his gifts and calling are without repentance. In this hope 
I live, in this I wish to die." 

I looked around me as she was speaking, and thought, 
" Surely this is none other than the house of God, and the 
gate of heaven." Everything appeared neat, cleanly, and 
interesting. The afternoon had been rather overcast with 



22 DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 

dark clouds, but just now the setting sun shone brightly 
and rather suddenly into the room. It was reflected from 
three or four rows of bright pewter plates and white earth- 
enware arranged on shelves against the wall ; it also gave 
brilliancy to a few prints of sacred subjects that hung there 
also, and served for monitors of the birth, baptism, crucifix- 
ion, and resurrection of Christ. A large map of Jerusalem, 
and a hieroglyphic of " the old arid new man,'' completed 
the decorations on that side of the room. Clean as was the 
white-washed wall, it was not cleaner than the rest of the 
place and its furniture. Seldom had the sun enlightened a 
house where order and general neatness (those sure attend- 
ants of pious and decent poverty) were more conspicuous. 

This gleam of setting sunshine was emblematical of the 
bright and serene close of this young Christian's departing 
season. One ray happened to be reflected from a little look- 
ing-glass upon the face of the young woman. Amidst her 
pallid and decaying features there appeared a calm resigna- 
tion, triumphant confidence, unaffected humility, and tender 
anxiety, which fully declared the feelings of her heart. 

Some further affectionate conversation, and a short 
prayer, closed this interview. 

As I rode home by departing daylight, a solemn tran- 
quillity reigned throughout the scene. The gentle lowing 
of cattle, the bleating of sheep just penned in their folds, the 
humming of the insects of the night, the distant murmurs 
of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, and the first 
warblings of the nightingale, broke upon the ear, and 
served rather to increase than lessen the peaceful serenity 
of the evening, and its corresponding effects on my own 
mind. It invited and cherished just such meditations as 
my visit had already inspired. Natural scenery, when 
viewed in a Christian mirror, frequently affords very beau- 
tiful illustrations of divine truth. We are highly favored, 
when we can enjoy them, and at the same time draw near 
to God in them. 



dairyman's daughter. 23 

Soon after this, I received a hasty summons, to inform 
me that my young friend was dying. It was brought by 
a soldier, whose countenance bespoke seriousness, good 
sense, and piety. 

" I am sent, sir, by the father and mother of Elizabeth 

W , at her own particular request, to say how much 

they all wish to see you. She is going home, sir, very fast 
indeed." 

" Have you known her long ?" I replied. 

" About a month, sir ; I love to visit the sick, and hear- 
ing of her case from a serious person who lives close by our 
camp, I went to see her. I bless God that ever 1 did go. 
Her conversation has been very profitable to me." 

" I rejoice," said I, " to see in you, as I trust, a brother 
soldier. Though we differ in our outward regimentals, I 
hope we serve under the same spiritual Captain. I will go 
with you." 

My horse was soon ready. My military companion 
walked by my side, and gratified me with very sensible 
and pious conversation. He related some remarkable tes- 
timonies of the excellent disposition of the Dairyman's 
Daughter, as they appeared from some recent intercourse 
which he had had with her. 

"She is a bright diamond, sir," said the soldier, "and 
will soon shine brighter than any diamond upon earth." 

Conversation beguiled the distance, and shortened the 
apparent time of our journey, till we were nearly arrived 
at the Dairyman's cottage. 

As we approached it, we became silent. Thoughts of 
death, eternity, and salvation, inspired by the sight of a 
house where a dying believer lay, filled my own mind, and, 
I doubt not, that of my companion also. 

No living object yet appeared, except the Dairyman's 
dog, keeping a kind of mute watch at the door ; for he did 
not, as formerly, bark at my approach. He seemed to 
partake so far of the feelings appropriate to the circum- 



24 dairyman's daughter. 

stances of the family, as not to wish to give a hasty or 
painful alarm. He came forward to the little wicket-gate, 
then looked back at the house-door, as if conscious there 
was sorrow within. It was as if he wanted to say, " Tread 
softly over the threshold, as you enter the house of mourn- 
ing ; for my master's heart is full of grief." 

A solemn serenity appeared to surround the whole 
place. It was only interrupted by the breeze passing 
through the large elm-trees which stood near the house, 
which my imagination indulged itself in thinking were 
plaintive sighs of sorrow. I gently opened the door ; no 
one appeared, and all was still silent. The soldier fol- 
lowed ; we came to the foot of the stairs. 

" They are come," said a voice which I knew to be the 
father's ; " they are come." 

He appeared at the top ; I gave him my hand, and said 
nothing. On entering the room above, I saw the aged 
mother and her son supporting the much-loved daughter 
and sister ; the son's wife sat weeping in a window-seat, 
with a child on her lap ; two or three persons attended in 
the room to discharge any office which friendship or neces- 
sity might require. 

I sat down by the bedside. The mother could not 
weep, but now and then sighed deeply, as she alternately 
looked at Elizabeth and at me. The big tear rolled down 
the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate regard. 
The good old man stood at the foot of the bed, leaning upon 
the post, and unable to take his eyes off the child from 
whom he was so soon to part. 

Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and as yet she perceived 
me not. But over her face, though pale, sunk, and hollow, 
the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, had 
cast a triumphant calm. 

The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out his 
Bible towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor. 15 : 
55-57. I then broke silence by reading the passage, " O 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTEK. 25 

death, Avhere is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ? 
The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. 
But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory, through 
our Lord Jesus Christ." 

At the sound of these words her eyes opened, and 
something like a ray of divine light beamed on her counte- 
nance, as she said, " Victory, victory ! through our Lord 
Jesus Christ." 

She relapsed again, taking no further notice of any one 
present. 

" God be praised for the triumph of faith," I said. 

"Amen," replied the soldier. 

The Dairyman's uplifted eye showed that the Amen 
was in his heart, though his tongue failed to utter it. 

A short struggling for breath took place in the dying 
young woman, which was sojon over, and then I said to 
her — 

" My dear friend, do you not feel that you are sup- 
ported ?" 

" The Lord deals very gently with me," she replied. 

" Are not his promises now very precious to you ?" 

" They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus." 

" Are you in much bodily pain ?" 

" So little that I almost forget it !" 

" How good the Lord is !" 

" And how unworthy am I !" 

"You are going to see him as he is." 

"I think I hope I believe that I am." 

She again fell into a short slumber. 

Looking at her mother, I said, " What a mercy to have 
a child so near heaven as yours is !" 

" And what a mercy," she replied in broken accents, 
" if her poor old mother might but follow her there ! But, 
sir, it is so hard to part — " , 

" I hope through grace, by faith, you will soon meet, to 
part no more ; it will be but a little while." 



26 dairyman's daughter. 

" Sir," said the Dairyman, " that thought supports me, 
and the Lord's goodness makes me feel more reconciled 
than I was." 

" Father. ...mother...." said the reviving daughter, "he 
is good to me. ...trust him, praise him evermore." 

" Sir," added she in a faint voice, " I want to thank you 

for your kindness to me I want to ask a favor; you 

buried my sister will you do the same for me ?" 

"All shall be as you wish, if God permit," I replied. 

"Thank you, sir, thank you I have another favor to 

ask When I am gone, remember my father and mother. 

They are old, but I hope the good work is begun in their 
souls.... My prayers are heard.... Pray come and see them.... 
I cannot speak much, but I want to speak, for their sakes.... 
Sir, remember them." 

The aged parents now sighed and sobbed aloud, utter- 
ing broken sentences, and gained some relief by such an 
expression of their feelings. 

At length I said to Elizabeth, " Do you experience any 
doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal safety ?" 

" No, sir ; the Lord deals very gently with me, and 
gives me peace." 

" What are your views of the dark valley of death, 
now that you are passing through it ?" 

"It is?io^ dark." 

"Why so?" 

" My Lord is there, and he is my light and my salva- 
tion." 

"Have you any fears of more bodily suffering?" 

"The Lord deals so gently with me, I can trust him." 

Something of a convulsion came on. When it was 
past, she said again and again, 

" The Lord deals very gently with me. Lord, I am 
thine, save me. ...Blessed Jesus. ...Precious Saviour.... His 
blood cleanseth from all sin.. ..Who shall separate ?.... His 
name is Wonderful.... Thanks be to God.... He giveth us 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 27 

the victory....!, even I, am saved.... O grace, mercy, and 
wonder — Lord, receive my spirit. 

"Dear sir. ...dear father, mother, friends, I am going.... 
but all is well, well, well ." 

She relapsed again — We knelt down to prayer — The 
Lord was in the midst of us, and blessed us. 

She did not again revive while I remained, nor ever 
speak any more words which could be understood. She 
slumbered for about ten hours, and at last sweetly fell 
asleep in the arms of the Lord, who had dealt so gently 
with her. 

I left the house an hour after she had ceased to speak. 
I pressed her hand as I was taking leave, and said, 
"Christ is the resurrection and the life." 

She gently returned the pressure, but could neither 
open her eyes nor utter a reply. I never had witnessed a 
scene so impressive as this before. It completely filled my 
imagination as I returned home. 

" Farewell," thought I, " dear friend, till the morning 
of an eternal day shall renew our personal intercourse. 
Thou wast a brand plucked from the burning, that thou 
mightest become a star shining in the firmament of glory. 
I have seen thy light, and thy good works, and I will 
therefore glorify our Father which is in heaven. I have 
seen in thy example, what it is to be a sinner freely saved 
by grace. I have learned from thee, as in a living mir- 
ror, who it is, that begins, continues, and ends the work 
of faith and love. Jesus is all in all ; he will and shall be 
glorified. He won the crown, and alone deserves to wear 
it. May no one attempt to rob him of his glory ; he saves, 
and saves to the uttermost. Farewell, dear sister in the 
Lord. Thy flesh and thy heart may fail ; but God is the 
strength of thy heart, and shall be thy portion for ever." 

I was soon called to attend the funeral of my friend, 
who breathed her last shortly after my visit. Many pleas- 
ing yet melancholy thoughts were connected with the ful- 



28 dairyman's daughter. 

filment of this task. I retraced the numerous and important 
conversations which I had held with her. But these could 
now no longer be held on earth. I reflected on the in- 
teresting and improving nature of Christian friendships, 
whether formed in palaces or in cottages ; and felt thank- 
ful that I had so long enjoyed that privilege with the sub- 
ject of this memorial. I indulged a sigh, for a moment, 
on thinking that I could no longer hear the great truths of 
Christianity uttered by one who had drunk so deep of the 
waters of life. But the rising murmur was checked by 
the animating thought, " She is gone to eternal rest — could 
I wish to bring her back to this vale of tears ?" 

As I travelled onward to the house where lay her re- 
mains in solemn preparation for the grave, the first sound 
of a tolling bell struck my ear. It proceeded from a vil- 
lage church in the valley directly beneath the ridge of a 
high hill, over which I had taken my way — it was Eliza- 
beth's funeral knell. It was a solemn sound, but it seemed 
to proclaim at once the blessedness of the dead who die in 
the Lord, and the necessity of the living pondering these 
things, and laying them to heart. 

On entering the cottage, I found that several Christian 
friends, from different parts of the neighborhood, had as- 
sembled together to show their last tribute of esteem and 
regard to the memory of the Dairyman's Daughter. 

I was requested to go into the chamber where the 
relatives and a few other friends were gone to take a last 
look at the remains of Elizabeth. 

If there be a moment when Christ and salvation, death, 
judgment, heaven, and hell, appear more than ever to be 
momentous subjects of meditation, it is that which brings 
us to the side of a cofHn containing the body of a departed 
believer. 

Elizabeth's features were altered, but much of her like- 
ness remained. Her father and mother sat at the head, 
her brother at the foot of the coffin, manifesting their deep 



dairyman's daughter. 29 

and unfeigned sorrow. The weakness and infirmity of old 
age added a character to the parents' grief, which called 
for much tenderness and compassion. 

A remarkably decent-looking woman, who had the 
management of the few simple, though solemn ceremonies 
which the case required, advanced towards me, saying, 

" Sir, this is rather a sight of joy than of sorrow. Our 
dear friend Elizabeth finds it to be. so, I have no doubt. 
She is beyond all sorrow. Do you not think she is, sir?" 

" After what I have known, and seen, and heard," I 
replied, " I feel the fullest assurance, that, while her body 
remains here, her soul is with her Saviour in Paradise. 
She loved him here, and there she enjoys the pleasures 
which are at his right hand for evermore." 

" Mercy, mercy upon a poor old creature almost broken 
down with age and grief, what shall I do ? Betsey's gone — 
my daughter's dead. Oh ! my child, I shall never see thee 
more ! God be merciful to me a sinner !" sobbed out the 
poor mother. 

" That last prayer, my dear good woman," said I, 
"will bring you together again. It is a cry that has 
brought thousands to glory. It brought your daughter 
thither, and I hope it will bring you there likewise. He 
will in no wise cast out any that come to him." 

" My dear," said the Dairyman, breaking the long si- 
lence he had maintained, " let us trust God with our child, 
and let us trust iiim with our ownselves. The Lord gave, 
and the Lord has taken away ; blessed be the name of the 
Lord ! We are old, and can have but a little farther to 
travel in our journey, and then" — he could say no more. 

The soldier before mentioned reached a Bible into my 
hand, and said, " Perhaps, sir, you would not object to 
reading a chapter before we go to the church." 

I did so ; it was the fourteenth of the book of Job. A 
sweet tranquillity prevailed while I read it. Each minute 
that was spent in this funeral-chamber, seemed to be valu- 



30 dairyman's daughter. 

able. I made a few observations on the chapter, and con- 
nected them with the case of our departed sister. 

"I am but a poor soldier," said our military friend, 
" and have nothing of this world's goods beyond my daily 
subsistence ; but I would not exchange my hope of salva- 
tion in the next world, for all that this world could bestow 
without it. What is wealth without grace ? Blessed be 
God, as I march about from one quarter to another, I still 
find the Lord wherever I go ; and thanks be to his holy 
name, he is here to-day in the midst of this company of the 
living and the dead. I feel that it is good to be here." 

Some other persons present began to take a part in the 
conversation, in the course of which the life and experience 
of the Dairyman's Daughter were brought forward in a 
very interesting manner ; each friend had something to re- 
late in testimony of her gracious disposition. One distant 
relative, a young woman under twenty, who had hitherto 
been a very light and trifling character, appeared to be re- 
markably impressed by the conversation of that day ; and 
I have since had ground to believe that divine grace then 
began to influence her in the choice of that better part, 
which shall not be taken from her. 

What a contrast does such a scene as this exhibit, 
when compared with the dull, formal, unedifying, and 
often indecent manner in which funeral parties assemble 
in the house of death ! 

But the time for departure to the church was now at 
hand. I went to take my last look at the deceased. There 
was much written on her countenance : she had evidently 
departed with a smile. It still remained, and spoke the 
tranquillity of her departing soul. According to the custom 
of the place, she was decorated with leaves and flowers in 
the coffin ; these indeed were fading flowers, but they re- 
minded me of that Paradise whose flowers are immortal, 
and where her never-dying soul is at rest. 

I remembered the last words which I had heard her 



DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 31 

speak, and was instantly struck with the happy thought, 
that " death was indeed swallowed up in victory." 

As I slowly retired, I said inwardly, " Peace, my honored 
sister, to thy memory, and to my soul, till we meet in a bet- 
ter world." 

In a little time the procession formed ; it was rendered 
the more interesting by the consideration of so many that 
followed the coffin being persons of truly serious and spir- 
itual character. 

After we had advanced about a hundred yards, my 
meditation was unexpectedly and most agreeably inter- 
rupted by the friends, who followed the family, beginning 
to sing a funeral Psalm. Nothing could be more sweet or 
solemn. The well-known effect of the open air in soften- 
ing and blending the sounds of music was here peculiarly 
felt. The road through which we passed was beautiful 
and romantic : it lay at the foot of a hill, which occasion- 
ally reechoed the voices of the singers, and seemed to give 
faint replies to the notes of the mourners. The funeral 
knell was distinctly heard from the church tower, and 
greatly increased the effect which this simple and becoming 
service produced. 

I cannot describe the state of my own mind as pecu- 
liarly connected with the solemn singing. I never wit- 
nessed a similar instance before or since. I was reminded 
of elder times and ancient piety. I wished the practice 
more frequent. It seems well calculated to excite and 
cherish devotion and religious affections. 

We at length arrived at the church. The service was 
heard with deep and affectionate attention. When we 
came to the grave, the hymn which Elizabeth had selected 
was sung. All was devout, simple, decent, animating. 
We committed our dear friend's body to the grave, in full 
hope of a joyful resurrection from the dead. 

Thus was the vail of separation drawn for a season. 
She is departed and no more seen. But she will be seen at 



32 dairyman's daughter. 

the right hand of her Redeemer at the last day ; and will 
again appear to his glory, a miracle of grace and a monu- 
ment of mercy. 

My reader, rich or poor, shall you and I appear there 
likewise ? Are we " clothed with humility," and arrayed 
in the wedding-garment of a Redeemer's righteousness ? 
Are we turned from idols to serve the living God ? Are 
we sensible of our own emptiness, flying to a Saviour's 
fulness to obtain grace and strength ? Do we live in him, 
and on him, and by him, and with him ? Is he our all in 
all ? Are we " lost and found ;" " dead, and alive again ?" 

My poor reader, the Dairyman's Daughter was a poor 
girl, and the child of a poor man. Herein thou resem- 
blest her : but dost thou resemble her, as she resembled 
Christ ? Art thou made rich by faith ? Hast thou a crown 
laid up for thee ? Is thine heart set upon heavenly riches ? 
If not, read this story once more, and then pray earnestly 
for like precious faith. If, through grace, thou dost love 
and serve the Redeemer that saved the Dairyman's Daugh- 
ter, grace, peace, and mercy be with thee. The lines are 
fallen unto thee in pleasant places : thou hast a goodly heri- 
tage. Press forward in duty, and wait upon the Lord, 
possessing thy soul in holy patience. Thou hast just been 
with me to the grave of a departed believer. Now " go thy 
way till the end be ; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy 
lot at the end of the days." Dan. 12 : 13. 

Note. — The mother died about six months after her daughter, 
and I have good reason to believe that God was merciful to her, and 
took her to himself May every converted child thus labor and pray 
for the salvation of their unconverted parents. The father continued 
for some time after her, and adorned his old age with a walk and con- 
versation becoming the Gospel. I cannot doubt that the daughter and 
both her parents are now met together in " the land of pure delights, 
where saints immortal reign." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETr. 



No. 10. 



THE 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 



BY MRS HAl-TNAH MORE 




R. JOHNSON, a very worthy, 
charitable gentleman, was travel- 
ling some time ago across one of 
those vast plains, which are well 
known in Wiltshire. It was a 
fine summer's evening, and he 
rode slowly, that he might have 
r - "^ ~^ leisure to admire God in the works 
of his creation. For this gentleman was of opinion, that a 
walk or a ride was as proper a time as any to think about 
good things : for which reason, on such occasions, he seldom 
thought so much about his money, or his trade, or public 
news, as at other times, that he might with more ease and 
satisfaction enjoy the pious thoughts which the visible works 
VOL. I. 6 



2 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

of the great Maker of heaven and earth are intended to raise 
in the mind. 

His attention was all of a sudden called ofTby the barking 
of a shepherd's dog, and looking up, he spied one of those 
little huts which are here and there to be seen on those great 
Downs ; and near it was the Shepherd himself, busily em- 
ployed with his dog in collecting together his vast flock of 
sheep. As he drew nearer, he perceived him to be a clean, 
well-looking, poor man, near fifty years of age. His coat, 
though at fii'st it had probably been of one dark color, had 
been in a long course of years so often patched with different 
sorts of cloth, that it was now become hard to say which had 
been the original color. But this, while it gave plain proof 
of the Shepherd's poverty, equally proved the exceeding 
neatness, industry, and good management of his wife. His 
stockings no less proved her good housewifely, for they were 
entirely covered with darns of different colored worsted, but 
had not a hole in them ; and his shirt, tliough nearly as coarse 
as the sails of a ship, was as white as the drifted snow, and 
was neatly mended where time had either made a rent or 
worn it thin. This furnishes a rule of judging, by which 
one will seldom be deceived. If I meet with a laborer hedg- 
ing, ditching, or mending the highways, with his stockings 
and shirt tight and whole, however mean and bad his other 
garments are, I have seldom failed, on visiting his cottage, to 
find that also clean and well-ordered, and his wife notable, and 
worthy of encouragement. Whereas a poor woman who 
will be lying abed, or gossiping with her neighbors, when 
she ought to be fitting out her husband in a cleanly manner, 
will seldom be found to be very good in other respects. 

This was not the case with our Shepherd ; and Mr. John- 
son was not more struck with the decency of his mean and 
frugal dress, than with his open, honest countenance, which 
bore strong marks of health, cheerfulness, and spirit. 

Mr. Johnson, who was on a journey, and somewhat fear- 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 3 

ful, from the appearance of the sky, that rain was at no great 
distance, accosted the Shepherd with asking what sort of 
weather he thought it would be on the morrow. "It will 
be such weather as pleases me," answered the Shepherd. 
Though the answer was delivered in the mildest and civil- 
est tone that could be imagined, the gentleman thought the 
words themselves rather rude and surly, and asked him how 
that could be. " Because," replied the Shepherd, " it will 
be such weather as shall please God, and whatever pleases 
him always pleases me." 

Mr. Johnson, who delighted in good men and good things, 
was very well satisfied with his reply. For he justly thought 
that though a hypocrite may easily contrive to appear better 
than he really is, to a stranger, and that no one should be 
too soon trusted, merely for having a few good words in his 
mouth ; yet as he knew that " out of the abundance of the 
heart the mouth speaketh," he always accustomed himself to 
judge favorably of those who had a serious deportment and 
solid manner of speaking. It looks as if it proceeded from 
a good habit, said he, and though 1 may now and then be 
deceived by it, yet it has not often happened to me to be so. 
Whereas, if a man accosts me with an idle, dissolute, vulgar, 
indecent, or profane expression, 1 have never been deceived 
in him, but have generally, on inquiry, found his character 
to be as bad as his language gave me room to expect. 

He entered into conversation with the Shepherd in the fol- 
lowino- manner : " Yours is a troublesome life, honest friend," 
said he. ." To be sure, sir," replied the Shepherd, " 'tis not a 
very lazy life ; but 'tis not near so toilsome as that which my 
great Master led for my sake ; and he had every state and 
condition of life at his choice, and chose a hard one, while I 
only submit to the lot that is appointed me." " You are ex- 
posed to great cold and heat," said the gentleman. " True, 
sir," said the Shepherd, " but then I am not exposed to great 
temptations ; and so throwing one thing against another, God 



4 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

is pleased to contrive to make things more equal than we poor, 
ignorant, short-sighted creatures are apt to think. David was 
happier when he kept his father's sheep on such a plain as this, 
and was employed in singing some of his own psalms, per- 
haps, than ever he was when he became king of Israel and Ju- 
dah. And I dare say, we should never have had some of the 
most beautiful texts in all those fine psalms, if he had not been 
a shepherd, which enabled him to make so many fine com- 
parisons and similitudes, as one may say, from country life, 
flocks of sheep, hills and valleys, and fountains of water." 

" You think then," said the gentleman, "■ that a laborious 
life is a happy one." " I do, sir, and more so especially as 
it exposes a man to fewer sins. If king Saul had continued 
a poor laborious man to the end of his days, he might have 
lived happy and honest, and died a natural death in his bed 
at last, which you know, sir, was more than he did. But I 
speak with reverence ; lor it was divine Providence over- 
ruled all that, you know, sir, and I do not presume to make 
comparisons. Besides, sir, my employment has been par- 
ticularly honored. Moses was a shepherd in the plains of 
Midian. It was to ' shepherds keeping their flocks by night,' 
that the angels appeared in Bethlehem, to tell the best news, 
the gladdest tidings, that ever were revealed to poor sinful 
men ; often and often has the thought warmed my poor heart 
in the coldest night, and filled me with more joy and thank- 
fulness than the best supper could have done." 

Here the Shepherd stopped, for he began to feel that he 
had made too free, and had talked too long. But Mr. John- 
son was so well pleased with what he said, and with the 
cheerful, contented manner in which he said it, that he de- 
sired him to go on freely, for it was a pleasure to him to 
meet with a plain man, who, without any kind of learning 
but what he had got from the Bible, was able to talk so well 
on a subject which all men, high and low, rich and poor, 
are equally concerned. 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 5 

"Indeed, I am afraid I make too bold, sir, for it better 
becomes me to listen to such a gentleman as you seem to 
be, than to talk in my poor way ; but, as I was saying, sir, 
I wonder all working men do not derive as great joy and 
delight as I do, in thinking how God has honored poverty ! 
Oh ! sir, what greal, or rich, or mighty men have had such 
honor put on them, or their condition, as shepherds, tent- 
makers, fishermen, and carpenters have had ?" 

"My honest friend," said the gentleman, "I perceive 
you are well acquainted with Scripture." " Yes, sir, pretty 
well, blessed be God ! Through his mercy I learnt to read 
when I was a little boy ; though reading was not so com- 
mon when I was a child, as I am told, through the good- 
ness of Providence, and the generosity of the rich, it is 
likely to become now-a-days. I believe there is no day, 
for the last thirty years, that I have not peeped at my Bible. 
If we can't find time to read a chapter, I defy any man to 
say he can't find time to read a verse ; and a single text, 
sir, well followed, and put in practice every day, would 
make no bad figure at the year's end ; three hundred and 
sixty-five texts, without the loss of a moment's time, would 
make a pretty stock, a little golden treasury, as one may 
say, from new-year's day to new-year's day ; and if chil- 
dren were brought up to it, they would come to look for 
their texts as naturally as they do for their breakfast. No 
laboring man, 'tis true, has so much leisure as a shepherd ; 
for while the flock is feeding, I am obliged to be still, and 
at such times I can now and then tap a shoe for my chil- 
dren or myself, which is a great saving to us ; and while I 
am doing that, I repeat a bit of a chapter, which makes the 
time pass pleasantly in this wild, solitary place. I can say 
the best part of the Bible by heart ; I believe I should not 
say the best part, for every part is good ; but I mean the 
greatest part. I have led but a lonely life, and have often 
had but little to eat ; but my Bible has been meat, drink, 



6 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

aod company to me, as I may say ; and when want and 
trouble have come upon me, I don't know what I should 
have done indeed, sir, if I had not had the promises of this 
book for my stay and support." 

" You have had great difficulties then," said Mr. John- 
son. " Why, as to that, sir, not more than neighbors' fare ; 
I have but little cause to complain, and much to be thank- 
ful ; but I have had some struggles, as I will leave you to 
judge. I have a wife and eight children, whom I bred up 
in that little cottage, which you see under the hill about 
half a mile off." "What, that with the smoke coming out 
of the chimney ?" said the gentleman. " Oh no, sir," re- 
plied the Shepherd, smiling, " we have seldom smoke in 
the evening, for we have little to cook, and firing is very 
dear in these parts. 'Tis that cottage which you see on 
the left hand of the church, near that little tuft of haw- 
thorns." " What, that hovel with only one room above and 
below, with scarcely any chimney ? How is it possible 
you can live there with such a family ?" " O ! it is very 
possible, and very certain too," cried the Shepherd. " How 
many better men have been worse lodged ! How many 
good Christians have perished in prisons and dungeons, in 
comparison of which my cottage is a palace ! The house 
is very well, sir, and if the rain did not sometimes beat 
down upon us through the thatch, when we are abed, I 
should not desire a better ; for I have health, peace, and 
liberty, and no man maketh me afraid." 

" Well, I will certainly call upon you before it be long ; 
but how can you contrive to lodge so many children?" 
" We do the best we can, sir. My poor wife is a very 
sickly woman, or we should always have done tolerably 
well. There are no gentry in the parish, so that she has 
not met with any great assistance in her sickness. The 
good curate of the parish, who lives in that pretty parson- 
age in the valley, is very willing, but not very able to 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 7 

assist US on these trying occasions, for he has little enough 
for himself, and a large family into the bargain. Yet he 
does what he can, and more than many rich men do, and 
more than he can well afford. Besides that, his prayers 
and good advice we are always sure of, and we are truly 
thankful for that ; for a man must give, you know, sir, 
according to what he hath, and not according to what he 
hath not." 

" Are you in any distress at present ?" said Mr. Johnson. 
"No, sir, thank God," replied the Shepherd. "I get my 
shilling a day, and most of my children will soon be able 
to earn something ; for we have only three under five years 
old." " Only !" said the gentleman ; " that is a heavy bur- 
den." "Not at all ; God fits the back to it. Though my 
wife is not able to do any out-of-door work, yet she breeds 
up her children to such habits of industry, that our little 
maids, before they are six years old, can first get a half- 
penny, and then a penny a day, by knitting. The boys 
who are too little to do hard work, get a trifle by keeping 
the birds off the corn ; for this the farmers will give them 
a penny or two pence, and now and then a bit of bread and 
cheese into the bargain. When the season of crow-keep- 
ing is over, then they glean, or pick stones ; anything is 
better than idleness, sir ; and if they did not get a farthing 
by it, I would make them do it just the same, for the sake 
of giving them early habits of labor. 

" So you see, sir, I am not so badly off as many are ; 
nay, if it were not that it cost me so much in 'potecary's 
stuff for my poor wife, I should reckon myself well off: 
nay, I do reckon myself well off; for, blessed be God, he 
has granted her life to my prayers, and I would work my- 
self to a 'natomy, and live on one meal a day, to add one 
comfort to her valuable life. Indeed, I have often done the 
last, and thought it no great matter neither." 

While they were in this part of the discourse, a fine, 



8 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

plump, cherry-cheek little girl ran up, out of breath, with a 
smile on her young, happy face, and without taking any no- 
tice of the gentleman, cried out with great joy, " Look here, 
father, only see how much I have got to-day !" Mr. Johnson 
was much struck with her simplicity, but puzzled to know 
what was the occasion of this great joy. On looking at her, 
he perceived a small quantity of coarse wool, some of which 
had found its way through the holes of her clean, but scan- 
ty and ragged, woollen apron. The father said, " This has 
been a successful day indeed, Molly, but don't you see the 
gentleman ?" Molly now made a low courtesy down to the 
very ground ; while Mr. Johnson inquired into the cause of 
the mutual satisfaction which both father and daughter had 
expressed at the unusual good fortune of the day. 

" Sir," said the Shepherd, " poverty is a great sharpener 
of the wits. My wife and I cannot endure to see our chil- 
dren (poor as they are) without shoes and stockings, not 
only on account of the pinching cold, which cramps their 
poor little limbs, but because it degrades and debases them ; 
and poor people who have but little regard to appearance, 
will seldom be found to have any great regard to honesty 
and goodness. I don't say this is always the case ; but 1 
am sure it is so too often. Now, shoes and stockings being 
very dear, we never could afford to get them without a little 
contrivance. I must show you how I manage about the 
shoes, when you condescend to call at our cottage, sir : as 
to stockings, this is one way we take to help to get them. 
My young ones, who are too little to do much work, some- 
times wander at odd hours over the hills for the chance of 
finding what little wool the sheep may drop when they rub 
themselves, as they are apt to do, against the bushes.* 

* This piece of frugal industry is not imaginary, blit a real fact, as 
is the character of the Shepherd, and his uncommon knowledge of the 
Scriptures. 



SHEPHERD OF SiiLISBURY PLAIN. 9 

These scattered bits of wool the children pick up out of the 
brambles, which I see have torn sad holes in Molly's apron 
to-day ; they carry this wool home, and when they have 
got a pretty parcel together, their mother cards it ; for she 
can sit and card in the chimney-corner, when she is not 
able to wash or work about house. The biggest girl then 
spins it. It does very well for us without dyeing, for poor 
people must not stand for the color of their stockings. After 
this, our little boys knit it for themselves, while they are 
employed in crow-keeping in the fields, and after they get 
home at night. As for the knitting the girls and their 
mother do, that is chiefly for sale, which helps to pay our 
rent." 

Mr. Johnson lifted up his eyes in silent astonishment at 
the shifts which honest poverty can make, rather than beg 
or steal ; and was surprised to think how many ways of 
subsisting there are, which those who live at their ease 
little suspect. He secretly resolved to be more attentive 
to his own petty expenses than he had hitherto been ; and 
to be more watchful that nothing was wasted in his family. 

But to return to the Shepherd. Mr. Johnson told him, 
that as he must needs be at his friend^s house, who lived 
many miles off, that night, he could not, as he wished to do, 
make a visit to his cottage at present. " But I will certainly 
do it," said he, " on my return, for I long to see your wife 
and her nice little family, and to be an eye-witness of her 
neatness and good management." The poor man's tears 
started into his eyes on hearing the commendation bestowed 
on his wife ; and wiping them off with the sleeve of his coat, 
for he was not worth a handkerchief in the world, he said, 
*' Oh, sir, you just now, I am afraid, called me a humble 
man, but indeed I am a very proud one." " Proud !" ex- 
claimed Mr. Johnson, " I hope not ; pride is a great sin, 
and as the poor are liable to it, as well as the rich, so good 
a man as you seem to be ought to guard against it." " Sir," 

VOL. 1=' 6* 



10 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

said he, " you are right, but I am not proud of myself; God 
knows I have nothing to be proud of. I am a poor sinner ; 
but indeed, sir, I am proud of my wife ; she is not only the 
most tidy, notable woman on the plain, but she is the kindest 
wife and n\other, and the most contented, thankful Christian 
that I know. Last year I thought I should have lost her in 
a violent fit of the rheumatism, caught by going to work too 
soon after her lying-in, I fear ; for 'tis but a bleak, coldish 
place, as you may see, sir, in winter ; and sometimes the 
snow lies so long under the hill, that 1 can hardly make 
myself a path to get out and buy a few necessaries in the 
next village ; and we are afraid to send out the children, 
for fear they would be lost when the snow is deep. So, as 
I was saying, the poor soul was very bad indeed, and for 
several weeks lost the use of all her limbs except her hands ; 
a merciful Providence spared her the use of these, so that 
when she could not turn in her bed, she could contrive to 
patch a rag or two for her family. She was always saying, 
had it not been for the great goodness of God, she might have 
had her hands lame, as well as her feet, or the palsy instead 
of the rheumatism, and then she could have done nothing — 
but nobody had so^-many mercies as she had. 

" I will not tell you what we suffered during the bitter 
weather, sir; but my wife's faith and patience during that 
trying time were as good a lesson to me as any sermon I 
could hear ; and yet Mr. Jenkins gave us very comfortable 
ones too, that helped to keep up my spirits. 

" One Sunday afternoon, when my wife was at the worst, 
as I was coming out of church, (for I went one part of the 
day, and my eldest daughter the other, so my poor wife was 
never left alone ;) as I was coming out of church, I say, Mr. 
Jenkins the minister called out to me, and asked me how 
my wife did, saying he had been kept from coming to see 
her by the deep fall of snow ; and indeed from the parson- 
age-house to my hovel it was quite impassable. T gave him 



SHErHEKD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 11 

all the particulars he asked, and I am afraid a good many 
more, for my heart was quite full. He kindly gave me a 
shilling, and said he would certainly try to pick out his 
way, and come and see her in a day or two. 

. " While he was talking to me, a plain, farmer-looking 
gentleman, in boots, who stood by, listened to all I said, but 
seemed to take no notice. It was Mr. Jenkins' wife's father, 
who was come to pass the Christmas-holidays at the par- 
sonage-house. I had always heard him spoken of as a plain, 
frugal man, who lived close himself, but was remarked to 
give away more than any of his show-a-way neighbors. 

" Well, I went home with great spirits at this seasonable 
and unexpected supply ; for we had tapped our last six- 
pence, and there was little work to be had, on account of 
the weather. I told my wife I had not come back empty- 
handed. No, I dare say not, says she, you have been serv- 
ing a Master 'who filleth the hungry with good things, 
though he sendeth the rich empty away.' True, Mary, 
said I, we seldom fail to get good spiritual food from Mr. 
Jenkins, but to-day he has kindly supplied our bodily wants. 
She was more thankful, when I showed her the shilling, 
than I dare say some of your great people are when they 
get a hundred pounds." 

Mr. Johnson's heart smote him, when he heard such a 
value set upon a shilling ; surely, said he to himself, I will 
never waste another; but he said nothing to the Shepherd, 
who thus pursued his story. 

" Next morning, before I went out, I sent a part of the 
money to buy a little ale and brown sugar, to put into her 
water-o-ruel ; which you know, sir, made it nice and nourish- 
ing. I went out to cleave wood in a farm-yard, for there 
was no standing out on the plain, after such a snow as had 
fallen in the night. I went with a lighter heart than usual, 
because I had left my poor wife a Ihtle better, and comfort- 
ably supplied for this day, and I now resolved more than 



12 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

ever to trust God for the supplies of the next. When I 
came back at night, my wife fell a crying as soon as she saw 
me. This, I own, I thought but a bad return for the blessings 
she had so lately received, and so I told her. O, said she, it is 
too much, we are too rich ; I am now frightened, not lest we 
should have no portion in this world, but for fear we should 
have our whole portion in it. Look here, John ! So saying 
she uncovered the bed whereon she lay, and showed me two 
warm, thick, new blankets. I could not believe my own 
eyes, sir, because, when I went out in the morning I had left 
her with no other covering than our little old blue rug. I 
was still more amazed when she put half a crown into my 
hand, telling me she had had a visit from Mr. Jenkins and Mr. 
Jones, the latter of whom had bestowed all these good things 
upon us. Thus, sir, have our lives been crowned with mer- 
cies. My wife got about again, and I do believe, under 
Providence, it was owing to these comforts ; for the rheu- 
matism, sir, without blankets by night and flannel by day, 
is but a baddish job, especially to people who have but little 
or no fire. She will always be a weakly body ; but, thank 
God, her soul prospers and is in health. But I beg your 
pardon, sir, for talking on at this rate." " Not at all, not at 
all," said Mr. Johnson ; " I am much pleased with your story ; 
you'shall certainly see me in a few days. Good night." 
So saying, he slipped a crown into his hand and rode off. 
Surely, said the Shepherd, ''goodness and mercy have f oh 
lowed me all the days of my life,'' as he gave the money to 
his wife when he got home at night. 

As to Mr. Johnson, he found abundant matter for his 
thoughts during the rest of his journey. On the whole he 
was more disposed to envy than to pity the Shepherd. I 
have seldom seen, said he, so happy a man. It is a sort of 
happiness which the world could not give, and which I 
plainly see it has not been able to take away. This must 
be the true spirit of religion. I see more and more, that 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBrRY PLAIN. 13 

true goodness is not merely a thing of words and opinions, 
but a living principle brought into every common action 
of a man's life. What else could have supported this poor 
couple under every bitter trial of want and sickness ? No, 
my honest Shepherd, I do not pity, but I respect and even 
honor thee ; and I will visit thy poor hovel on my return to 
Salisbury, with as much pleasure as I am now going to the 
house of my friend. 

If Mr. Johnson keeps his word in sending me the account 
of his visit to the Shepherd's cottage, I shall be very glad to 
entertain my readers with it. 



PART II. 

I am willing to hope, that my readers will not be sorry 
to hear some farther particulars of their old acquaintance. 
The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. They will call to mind, 
that at the end of the first part he was returning home, full 
of gratitude for the favors he had received from Mr. John- 
son, whom we left pursuing his journey, after having prom- 
ised to make a visit to the Shepherd's cottage. 

Mr. Johnson, after having passed some time with his 
friend, set out on his return to Salisbury, and on the Satur- 
day evening reached a very small inn, a mile or two distant 
from the Shepherd's village ; for he never travelled on a 
Sunday. He went next morning to the church nearest the 
house where he had passed the night ; and after taking such 
refreshment as he could get at that house, he walked on to 
find out the Shepherd's cottage. His reason for visiting 
him on Sunday was chiefly because he supposed it to be 
the only day which the Shepherd's employment allowed 
him to pass at home with his family ; and as Mr. Johnson 
had been struck with his talk, he thought it would be neither 



14 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

unpleasant nor unprofitable to observe how a man who 
carried such an appearance of piety spent his Sunday ; 
for, though he was so low in the world, this gentleman^was 
not above entering very closely into his character, of which 
he thought he should be able to form a better judgment, by 
seeing whether his practice at home kept pace with his pro- 
fession abroad. For it is not so much by observing how 
people talk, as how they live, that we ought to judge of 
their characters. 

After a pleasant walk, Mr. Johnson got within sight of 
the cottage, to which he was directed by the clump of haw- 
thorns and the broken chimney. He wished to take the 
family by surprise ; and walking gently up to the house, he 
stood a while to listen. The door being half open, he saw 
the Shepherd, (who looked so respectable in his Sunday 
coat, that he should hardly have known him,) his wife, and 
their numerous family drawing round their little table, 
which was covered with a clean, though very coarse cloth. 
There stood on it a large dish of potatoes, a brown pitcher, 
and a piece of coarse loaf. The wife and children stood in 
silent attention, while the Shepherd, with uplifted hands 
and eyes, devoutly begged the blessing of Heaven on their 
homely fare. Mr. Johnson could not help sighing to reflect, 
that he had sometimes seen better dinners eaten with less 
appearance of thankfulness. 

The Shepherd and his wife then sat down with great 
seeming cheerfulness, but the children stood ; and while 
the mother was helping them, little fresh-colored Molly, 
who had picked the wool from the bushes with so much de- 
light, cried out, '' Father, J wish I was big enough to say 
grace, I am sure I should say it very heartily to-day, for I 
was thinking, what must poor people do, who have no salt 
to their potatoes ; and do but look, our dish is quite full." 
That is the true way of thinking, Molly, said the father ; 
in whatever concerns bodily wants,, and bodilv comforts, it 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 15 

is our duty to compare our own lot with the lot of those 
who are worse off, and this will keep us thankful. On the 
other hand, whenever we are tempted to set up our own 
wisdom or goodness, we must compare ourselves with those 
who are wiser and better, and that will keep us humble. 
Molly was now so hungry, and found the potatoes so good, 
that she had no time to make any more remarks ; but was 
devouring her dinner very heartily, when the barking of 
the great dog drew her attention from her trencher to the 
door, and spying the stranger, she cried out, " Look, father, 
see here, is not that the good gentleman ?" Mr. Johnson, 
finding himself discovered, immediately walked in, and was 
heartily welcomed by the honest Shepherd, who told his 
wife that this was the gentleman to whom they were so 
much obliged. 

The good woman began, as some very neat people are 
rather too apt to do, with making many apologies, that her 
house was not cleaner, and that things were not in fitter 
order to receive such a gentleman. Mr. Johnson, however, 
on looking round, could discover nothing but the most per- 
fect neatness. The trenchers on which they were eating 
were almost as white as their linen ; and, notwithstanding 
the number and smallness of the children, there was not 
the least appearance of dirt or litter. The furniture was 
very simple and poor, hardly indeed amounting to bare ne- 
cessaries. It consisted of four brown wooden chairs, which, 
by constant rubbing, were become as bright as a looking- 
glass ; an iron pot and kettle ; a poor old grate, which 
scarcely held a handful of coal, and out of which the little 
fire that had been in it appeared to have been taken as soon 
as it had answered the end for which it had been lighted, 
that of boiling their potatoes. Over the chimney stood an 
old-fashioned broad bright candlestick, and a still brighter 
spit ; it was pretty clear that this last was kept rather for 
ornament than use. An old carved elbow-chair, and a 



16 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

chest of the same date, which stood in the corner, were 
considered as the most valuable part of the Shepherd's 
goods, having been in his family for three generations. But 
all these were lightly esteemed by him, in comparison of 
another possession, which, added to the above, made up the 
whole of what he had inherited from his father ; and which 
last he would not have parted with, if no other could have 
been had, for a king's ransom ; this was a large old Bible, 
which lay on the window-seat, neatly covered with brown 
cloth, variously patched. This sacred book was most rev- 
erently preserved from dog's-ears, dirt, and every other 
injury, but such as time and much use had made it suffer, 
in spite of care. On the clean white walls were pasted a 
Hymn on the Crucifixion of our Saviour, a print of the 
Prodigal Son, the Shepherd's Hymn, a New History of a 
true Book, and Patient Joe. 

After the first salutations were over, Mr. Johnson said, 
that if they would go on quietly with their dinner, he would 
sit down. Though a good deal ashamed, they thought it 
more respectful to obey the gentleman, who, having cast his 
eye on their slender provisions, gently rebuked the Shep- 
herd for not having indulged himself, as it was Sunday, 
with a morsel of bacon to relish his potatoes. The Shep- 
herd said nothing, but poor Mary colored and hung down 
her head, saying, " Indeed, sir, it is not my fault, I did beg 
my husband to allow himself a bit of meat to-day out of 
your honor's bounty ; but he was too good to do it, and it is 
all for my sake." The Shepherd seemed unwilling to 
come to an explanation, but Mr. Johnson desired Mary to 
go on. So she continued, " You must know, sir, that both 
of us, next to a sin, dread a debt, and indeed in some cases, 
a debt is a sin ; but with all our care and pains we have 
never been able quite to pay off the doctor's bill for that 
bad fit of rheumatism which I had last winter. Now, when 
you were pleased to give my husband that kind present the 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 17 

Other day, I heartily desired him to buy a bit of meat for 
Sunday, as I said before, that he might have a little refresh- 
ment out of your kindness. But he answered, ' Mary, it 
is never out of my mind long together, that we still owe a 
few shillings to the doctor (and, thank God, it was all we 
did owe in the world.) Now, if I carry him this money 
directly, it will not only show him our honesty and our good 
will, but it will be an encouragement to him to come to you 
another time, in case you should be taken once more in 
such a bad fit ; for I must own,' added my poor husband, 
' that the thought of your being so terribly ill, without any 
help, is the only misfortune that I want courage to face.' " 

Here the grateful woman's tears ran down so fast that 
she could not go on. She wiped them with the corner of 
her apron, and humbly begged pardon for making so free. 
" Indeed, sir," said the Shepherd, " though my wife is full 
as unwilling to be in debt as myself, yet I could hardly 
prevail on her to consent to my paying this money just then, 
because, she said, it was hard I should not have a taste of 
the gentleman's bounty myself. But for once, sir, I would 
have my own way. For you must know, as I pass the best 
part of my time alone, tending my sheep, 'tis a great point 
with me, sir, to get comfortable matter for my own thoughts ; 
so that 'tis rather self-interest in me, to allow myself no 
pleasures and no practices that won't bear thinking on over 
and over. For when one is a good deal alone, you know, 
sir, all one's bad deeds do so rush in upon one, as I may 
say, and so torment one, that there is no true comfort to be 
had, but in keeping clear of wrong doings and false pleas- 
ures ; and that I suppose may be one reason why so many 
folks hate to stay a bit by themselves. But, as I was say- 
ing, when I came to think the matter over on the hill yon- 
der, said I to myself, a good dinner is a good thing, I grant, 
and yet it will be but cold comfort to me a week after, to be 
able to say — to be sure I had a nice shoulder of mutton last 



18 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

Sunday for dinner, thanks to the good gentleman, but then 
I am in debt — I had a rare dinner, that's certain ; but the 
pleasure of that has long been over, and the debt still re- 
mains — I have spent the crown, and now if my poor wife 
should be taken in one of those fits again, die she must, 
unless God work a miracle to prevent it, for I can get no 
help for her. This thought settled all ; and I set off directly 
and paid the crown to the doctor with as much cheerfulness 
as I could have felt on sitting down to the fattest shoulder 
of mutton that was ever roasted. And if I was contented 
at the time, think how much more happy I have been at 
the remembrance ! O sir, there are no pleasures worth the 
name, but such as bring no plague or penitence after them." 
Mr. Johnson was satisfied with the Shepherd's reasons ; 
and agreed, that though a good dinner was not to be de- 
spised, yet it was not worthy to be compared with a con- 
tented mind, which (as the Proverb truly says) is a continual 
fea^t. "• But come," said the good gentleman, " what have 
we got in this brown mug ?" " As good water," said the 
Shepherd, " as any in the king's dominions. I have heard 
of countries beyond sea, in which there is no wholesome 
water ; nay, I have been myself in a great town not far 
off, where they are obliged to buy all the water they get, 
while a good Providence sends to my very door a spring as 
clear and fine as Jacob's well. When I am tempted to 
repine that I have often no other drink, I call to mind that 
it was nothing better than a cup of cold water which the 
woman of Samaria drew for the greatest guest that ever 
visited this world." 

" Very well," replied Mr. Johnson ; " but as your hon- 
esty has made you prefer a poor meal to being in debt, I 
will at least send and get something for you to drink. I' 
saw a little public-house just by the church, as I came along. 
Let that little rosy-faced fellow fetch a mug of beer." 

So saying he looked full at the boy, who did not offer to 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 19 

Stir ; but cast an eye at his father, to know what he was to 
do. '' Sir," said the Shepherd, " I hope we shall not appear 
ungrateful, if we seem to refuse your favor ; my little boy 
would, I am sure, fly to serve you on any other occasion. 
But, good sir, it is Sunday, and should any of my family 
be seen at a public-house on a Sabbath day, it would be a 
much greater grief to me than to drink water all my life. 
I am often talking against these doings to others ; and if I 
should say one thing and do another, you can't think what 
an advantage it would give many of my neighbors over 
me, who would be glad enough to report, that they caught 
the Shepherd's son at the ale-house, without explaining how 
it happened. Christians, you know, sir, must be doubly 
watchful, or they will not only bring disgrace on them- 
selves, but, what is much worse, on that holy name by 
which they are called." 

" Are you not a little too cautious, my honest friend ?" 
said Mr. Johnson. " I humbly ask your pardon, sir," re- 
plied the Shepherd, "- if I think that impossible. In my 
poor notion, I no more understand how a man can be too 
cautious, than how he can be too strong, or too healthy." 

" You are right, indeed," said Mr. Johnson, " as a gen- 
eral principle ; but this struck me as a very small thing." 
" Sir," said the Shepherd, " T am afraid you will think me 
very bold, but you encourage me to speak out." " 'Tis 
what I wish," said the gentleman. " Then, sir," resumed 
the Shepherd, " I doubt -if, where there is a temptation to 
do wrong, anything can be called small ; that is, in short, 
if there is any such thing as a small wilful sin. A poor 
man, like me, is seldom called out to do great things, so 
that it is not by a few striking deeds his character can be 
judged by his neighbors, but by the little round of daily 
customs he allows himself in." While they were thus talk- 
ing, the children, who had stood very quietly behind, and 
had not stirred a foot, now began to scamper about all at 



20 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

once, and in a moment ran to the window-seat to pick up 
their little old hats. Mr, Johnson looked surprised at this 
disturbance ; the Shepherd asked his pardon, telling him it 
was the sound of the church bell, which had been the cause 
of their rudeness ; for their mother had brought them up 
with such a fear of being too late for church, that it was 
but who could catch the first stroke of the bell, and be first 
ready. He had always taught them to think that nothing 
was more indecent than to get into church after it was 
begun ; for as the service opened with an exhortation to 
repentance, and a confession of sin, it looked very presump- 
tuous not to be ready to join in it ; it looked as if people 
did not feel themselves to be sinners. And though such as 
lived at a great distance might plead difference of clocks as 
an excuse, yet those who lived within the sound of the 
bell could pretend neither ignorance nor mistake. 

Mary and her children set forward. Mr. Johnson and 
the Shepherd followed, taking care to talk the whole way 
on such subjects as might fit them for the solemn duties of 
the place to which they were going. " I have often been 
sorry to observe," said Mr. Johnson, '' that many, who are 
reckoned decent, good kind of people, and who would on 
no account neglect going to church, yet seem to care but 
little in what frame or temper of mind they go thither. 
They will talk of their worldly concerns till they get within 
the door, and then take them up again the very minute the 
sermon is over, which makes me ready to fear they lay too 
much stress on the mere form of going to a place of wor- 
ship. Now, for my part, I always find that it requires a 
little time to bring my mind into a state fit to do any com- 
mon business well, much more this great and most neces- 
sary business of all." " Yes, sir," said the Shepherd, " and 
then I think, too, how busy I should be in preparing my 
mind, if I was going into the presence of a great gentleman, 
or a lord, or a king ; and shall the King of kings be treated 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 21 

with less respect ? Besides, one likes to see people feel as 
if going to church was a thing of choice and pleasure, as 
well as a duty, and that they were as desirous not to be the 
last there, as they would be if they were going to a feast 
or a fair." 

After service, Mr. Jenkins the clergyman, who was 
well acquainted with the character of Mr. Johnson, and had 
a great respect for him, accosted him with much civility ; 
expressing his concern that he could not enjoy just now so 
much of his conversation as he wished, as he was obliged 
to visit a sick person at a distance, but hoped to have a 
little talk with him before he left the village. As they 
walked along together, Mr. Johnson made such inquiries 
about the Shepherd as served to confirm him in the high 
opinion he entertained of his piety, good sense, industry, 
and self-denial. They parted, the clergyman promising to 
call in at the cottage on his way home. 

The Shepherd, who took it for granted that Mr. John- 
son was gone to the parsonage, walked home with his wife 
and children, and was beginning in his usual way to cate- 
chize and instruct his family, when Mr. Johnson came in, 
and insisted that the Shepherd should go on with his in- 
structions just as if he were not there. This gentleman, 
who was very desirous of being useful to his own servants 
and workmen in the way of religious instruction, was some- 
times sorry to find, that though he took a good deal of pains, 
they did not now and then quite understand him; for 
though his meaning was very good, his language was not 
always very plain ; and though the things he said were not 
hard to be understood, yet the words were, especially to 
such as were very ignorant. And he now began to find 
out, that if people were ever so wise and good, yet if they 
had not a simple, agreeable, and familiar way of expressing 
themselves, some of their plain hearers would not be much 
the better for them. For this reason he was not above list- 



22 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

ening to the plain, humble way, in which this honest man 
taught his family ; for though he knew that he himself 
had many advantages over the Shepherd, had more learn- 
ing, and could teach him many things ; yet he was not too 
proud to learn, even of so poor a man, in any point where 
he thought the Shepherd might have the advantage of him. 

This gentleman was much pleased with the knowledge 
and piety he discovered in the answers of the children ; 
and desired the Shepherd to tell him how he contrived to 
keep up a sense of divine things in his own mind and in 
that of his family, with so little leisure and so little reading. 
" O, as to that, sir," said the Shepherd, " we do not read 
much except in one book, to be sure, but by hearty prayer 
for God's blessing on the use of that book, what little know- 
ledge is needful seems to come of course, as it were ; and 
my chief study has been, to bring the fruits of the Sunday 
reading into the week's business, and to keep up the same 
sense of God in the heart, when the Bible is in the cupboard, 
as when it is in the hand. In short, to apply what I read 
in the book to what I meet with in the field." 

" I don't quite understand you," said Mr. Johnson. 
"Sir," replied the Shepherd, "I have but a poor gift at 
conveying these things to others, though I have much com- 
fort from them in my own mind ; but I am sure that the 
most ignorant and hard-working people, who are in earnest 
about their salvation, may help to keep up devout thoughts 
and good affections during the week, though they have hardly 
any time to look at a book. And it will help them to keep 
out bad thoughts, too, which is no small matter. But then 
they must know the Bible ; they must have read the word 
of God ; that is a kind of stock in trade for a Christian to 
set up with ; and it is this which makes me so diligent in 
teaching it to my children, and even in storing their mem- 
ories with psalms and chapters. This is a great help to a 
poor, hard-working man, who will scarcely meet with any 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 23 

thing but what he may turn to some good account. If one 
lives in the fear and love of God, almost everything one 
sees abroad will teach one to adore his power and goodness, 
and bring to mind some text of Scripture, which shall fill the 
heart with thankfulness and the mouth with praise. When 
I look upwards, the heavens declare the glory of God ; and 
shall I be silent and ungrateful 1 If I look round and see 
the vallies standing thick with corn, how can I help blessing 
that Power, who giveth me all things richly to enjoy ? I may 
learn gratitude from the beasts of the field, for the ox knoweth 
his oianer, and the ass his master's crib ; and shall a Chris- 
tian not know, shall a Christian not consider what great 
things God has done for him ? I, who am a shepherd, 
endeavor to fill my soul with a constant remembrance of 
that good Shepherd, who feedeth me in green pastures, and 
maketh me to lie down beside the still waters, and whose rod 
and staff comfort me." 

"You are happy," said Mr. Johnson, "in this retired 
life, by which you escape the corruptions of the world." 
" Sir," said the Shepherd, " I do not escape the corruptions 
of my own evil nature. Even there, on that wild solitary 
hill, I can find out that my heart is prone to evil thoughts. 
I suppose, sir, that different states have different temptations. 
You great folks that live in the world, perhaps are exposed 
to some, of which such a poor man as I am knows nothing. 
But to one who leads a lonely life like me, evil thoughts are 
a chief besetting sin ; and I can no more withstand these 
without the grace of God, than a rich gentleman can with- 
stand the snares of evil company, without the same grace. 
And I feel that I stand in need of God's help continually, 
and if he should give me up to my own evil heart, I should 
be lost." 

Mr. Johnson approved of the Shepherd's sincerity, for 
he had always observed, that where there was no humility, 
and no watchfulness against sin, there was no religion ; and 



24 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

he said, that the man who did not feel himself to be a sinner, 
in his opinion could not be a Christian. 

Just as they were in this part of their discourse, Mr. 
Jenkins the clergyman came- in. After the usual saluta- 
tions, he said, " Well, Shepherd, I wish you joy : I know 
you will be sorry to gain any advantage by the death of a 
neighbor ; but old Wilson, my clerk, was so infirm, and I 
trust so well prepared, that there is no reason to be sorry 
for his death. I have been to pray by him, but he died 
while I staid. I have always intended you should succeed 
to his place ; 'tis no great matter of profit, but every little 
is something." 

"No great matter, sir!" cried the Shepherd; "indeed 
it is a great matter to me ; 'twill more than pay my rent. 
Blessed be God for all his goodness." Mary said nothing, 
but lifted up her eyes, full of tears, in silent gratitude. 

" I am glad of this little circumstance," said Mr. Jenk- 
ins, " not only for your sake, but for the sake of the office 
itself. I so heartily reverence every religious institution, 
that I would never have even the Amen added to the excel- 
lent prayers of our church by vain or profane lips ; and, if 
it depended on me, there should be no such thing in the land 
as an idle, drunken, or irreligious parish-clerk. Sorry I am 
to say, that this matter is not always sufficiently attended 
to, and that I know some of a very different character." 

Mr. Johnson now inquired of the clergyman whether 
there were many children in the parish. " More than you 
would expect," replied he, "from the seeming' smallness 
of it, but there are some little hamlets which you do not 
see." 

" I think," returned Mr. Johnson, " I recollect that in the 
conversation I had with the Shepherd on the hill yonder, 
he told me you had no Sunday-school." " I am sorry to 
say we have none,'* said the minister ; " I do what I can to 
remedy this misfortune by public catechizing ; but having 



SHEPHERD OF SALTSBrRY PLAIN. 25 

two or three churches to serve, I cannot give so mucn time 
as I wish to private instruction ; and having a large family 
of my own, and no assistance from others, I have never 
been able to establish a school." 

" There is an excellent institution in London," said Mr. 
Johnson, " called the Sunday-School Society, which kindly 
gives books and other helps, on the application of such pious 
ministers as stand in need of their aid, and which, I am sure, 
Would have assisted you ; but I think we shall be able to 
do something ourselves. Shepherd," continued he, "if I 
were a king, and had it in my power to make you a rich 
and a great man, with a word speaking, I would not do it. 
Those who are raised, by some sudden stroke, much above 
the station in which divine Providence had placed them, 
seldom turn out good or very happy. I have never had 
any great things in my power, but as far as I have been 
able, I have always been glad to assist the worthy ; I have, 
however, never attempted or desired to set any poor man 
much above his natural condition ; but it is a pleasure to 
me to lend him such assistance as may make that condition 
more easy to himself, and to put him in a way which shall 
call him to the performance of more duties than perhaps he 
could have performed without my help, and of performing 
them in a better manner. What rent do you pay for this 
cottage ?" 

" Fifty shillings a year, sir." 

" It is in a sad, tattered condition : is there not a better 
to be had in the village ?" 

" That in which the poor clerk lived," said the clergy. 
man, " is not only more tight and whole, but has two decent 
chambers, and a very large, light kitchen." " That will 
be very convenient," replied Mr. Johnson; "pray what is 
the rent?" "I think," said the Shepherd, " poor neighbor 
Wilson gave somewhere about four pounds a year, or it 
might be guineas." " Very well," said Mr. Johnson, " and 

VOL. I. 7 



26 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

what will the clerk's place be worth, think you?" " About 
three pounds," was the answer. 

" Now," continued Mr. Johnson, " my plan is, that the 
Shepherd should take that house immediately ; for as the 
poor man is dead, there will be no need of waiting till quar- 
terday, if I make up the difference." " True, sir," said 
Mr. Jenkins, " and I am sure my wife's father, whom I 
expect to-morrow, will willingly assist a little towards buy- 
ing some of the clerk's old goods. And the sooner they 
remove, the better, for poor Mary caught that bad rheuma- 
tism by sleeping under a leaky thatch." The Shepherd 
was too much moved to speak, and Mary could hardly sob 
out, *' O, sir, you are too good ; indeed, this house will do 
very well." *' It may do very well for you and your poor 
children, Mary," said Mr. Johnson gravely, " but it will not 
do for a school ; the kitchen is neither large nor light enough. 
Shepherd," continued he, " with your good minister's leave 
and kind assistance, I propose to set up in this parish a 
Sunday-school, and to make you the master. It will not 
interfere with your weekly calling, and it is the only lawful 
way in which you can turn the Sabbath into a day of some 
little profit to your family, by doing, as I hope, a great deal 
of good to the souls of others. The rest of the week you 
will work as usual. The difference of rent between this 
house and the clerk's, I shall pay myself; for to put you 
in a better house at your own expense would be no great 
kindness. As for honest Mary, who is not fit for hard labor, 
or any out-of-door work, I propose to endow a small weekly 
school, of which she shall be the mistress, and employ her 
notable turn to good account, by teaching ten or a dozen 
girls to knit, sew, spin, card, or any other useful way of 
getting their bread ; for all this I shall only pay her the 
usual price, for I am not going to make you rich, but 
useful." 

" Not rich, sir !" cried the Shepherd. " How can I 



SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 27- 

ever be thankful enough for such blessings? And will 
my poor Mary have a dry thatch overhead ? and shall I 
be able to send for the doctor, when I am like to lose her ? 
Indeed, my cup runs over with blessings. I hope God will 
give me humility." Here he and Mary looked at each 
other and burst into tears. The gentlemen saw their dis- 
tress, and kindly walked out upon the green before the 
door, that these honest people might give vent to their feel- 
ings. As soon as they were alone they crept into one cor- 
ner of the room, where they thought they could not be seen, 
and fell on their knees, devoutly blessing and praising God 
for his mercies. Never were heartier prayers presented 
than this grateful couple offered up for their benefactors. 
The warmth of their gratitude could only be equalled by 
the earnestness with which they besought the blessing of 
God on the work in which they were going to engage. 

The two gentlemen now left this happy family, and 
walked to the parsonage, where the evening was spent in 
a manner very edifying to Mr. Johnson, who the next day 
took all proper measures for putting the Shepherd in im- 
mediate possession of his now comfortable habitation. Mr. 
Jenkins' father-in-law, the worthy gentleman who gave 
the Shepherd's wife the blankets, in the first part of this 
history, arrived at the parsonage before Mr. Johnson left 
it, and assisted in fitting up the clerk's cottage. 

Mr. Johnson took his leave, promising to call on the 
worthy minister and his new clerk once a year, in his 
summer's journey over the Plain, as long as it would 
please God to spare his life. 



28 SHEPHERD OF SALISBURY PLAIN. 

THE SHEPHERD'S HYMN. 



The Lord my pasture shaU prepare, 
And feed me with a shepherd's care ; 
His presence shaU my wants supply, 
And guard me with a watchful eye : 
My noon-day walks he shall attend, 
And all my midnight hours defend. 

When on the sultry glebe I faint, 
Or on the thirsty mountain pant. 
To fertile vales and dewy meads 
My weary, wand'ring steps he leads, 
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, 
Amid the verdant landscape flow. 

Though in the paths of death I tread. 
With gloomy horrors overspread, 
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill, 
For thou, O Lord, art with me still ; 
Thy friendly arm shall give me aid. 
And guide me through the dreadful shade. 

Though in a bare and rugged way. 
Through devious, lonely wilds I stray. 
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile ; 
The barren wilderness shall smile. 
With sudden greens and herbage crowned, 
And streams shall murmur all around. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETT, 



]Vo. 11. 



'TIS ALL FOR THE BEST 



ASCRIBED TO MRS. HANNAH MORE. 




" It is all for the best," said Mrs. Simpson, whenever 
any misfortune befell her. She had such a habit of vindi- 
eating Providence, that, instead of weeping and murmur, 
ing under the most trying dispensations, her chief care was 
to convince herself and others, that, however great might 
be her sufferings, and however little they could be account- 
ed for at present, the Judge of all the earth could not but 
do right. Instead of trying to clear herself from any possi- 
ble blame that might attach to her under those infirmities, 
which, to speak after the manner of men, she seemed not 
to deserve, she was always the first to justify Him who 



2 TIS ALL FOR THE BEST. 

had inflicted them. It was not that she superstitiously con- 
verted every visitation into a punishment ; she entertained 
more correct ideas of that God who overrules all events. 
She knew that some calamities were sent to exercise her 
faith, others to purify her heart ; some to chastise her sins, 
and all, to remind her that this " is not our rest," that this 
world is not the place for the full and final display of retri- 
butive justice. The honor of God was dearer to her than 
her own credit, and her chief desire was to turn all events 
to his glory. 

Though Mrs. Simpson was the daughter of a clergy- 
man, and the widow of a genteel tradesman, she had been 
reduced, by a succession of misfortunes, to accept of a room 
in an almshouse. Instead of repining at the change, in- 
stead of dwelling on her former gentility, and saying, 
" how handsomely she had lived once ; and how hard it 
was to be reduced ; and she little thought ever to end her 
days in an almshouse ;" (which is the common language 
of those who were never so well off* before ;) she was thank- 
ful that such an asylum was provided for want and age ; 
and blessed God that it was to the Christian dispensation 
alone that such pious institutions owed their birth. 

One fine evening, as she was sitting, reading her Bible, 
on the little bench shaded with honeysuckles, just before 
her door, who should come and sit down by her but Mrs. 
Betty, who had formerly been lady's maid at the noble- 
man's house of the village of which Mrs. Simpson's father 
had been minister. Betty, after a life of vanity, was, by a 
train of misfortunes, brought to this very almshouse ; and 
though she had taken no care, by frugality and prudence, 
to avoid it, she thought it a hardship and disgrace, instead 
of being thankful, as she ought to have been, for such a 
retreat. At first she did not know Mrs. Simpson ; her 



TIS ALL FOR THE BEST. 3 

large bonnet, cloak, and brown stuff gown, (for she always 
made her appearance conform to her circumstances,) being 
very different from the dress she had been used to weai 
when Mi*s. Betty had seen her dining at the great house ; 
and time and sorrow had much altered her countenance. 
But when Mrs. Simpson kindly addressed her as an old 
acquaintance, she screamed with surprise, 

" What ! you, madam ! you in an almshouse, living on 
charity ? you, who used to be so charitable yourself that 
you never suffered any distress in the parish which you 
could prevent ?" 

" That may be one reason, Betty," replied Mrs. Simp- 
son, " why Providence has provided this refuge for my old 
age. And my heart overflows with gratitude when I look 
back on his goodness." 

"No such great goodness, methinks," said Betty; 
"why, you were born and bred a lady, and are now re- 
duced to live in an almshouse." 

" Betty, I was born and bred a sinner, undeserving of 
the mercies I have received." 

" No such great mercies," said Betty ; " why, I heard 
you had been turned out of doors, that your husband had 
broke, and that you had been in danger of starving, though 
I did not know what was become of you." 

" It is all true, Betty, glory be to God ! it is all true." 

" Well," said Betty," you are an odd sort of a gentle- 
woman. If from a prosperous condition I had been made 
a bankrupt, a widow, and a beggar, I should have thought 
it no such mighty matter to be thankful for ; but there is 
no accounting for taste. The neighbors used to say that 
all your troubles must needs be a judgment upon you ; but 
I, who knew how good you were, thought it very hard you 
should suffer so much ; but now I see you reduced to an 
almshouse, I beg your pardon, madam, but I am afraid the 



4 TIS ALL FOR THE BEST. 

neighbors were in the right, and that so many misfortunes 
could never have happened to you unless you had commit- 
ted a great many sins to deserve them ; for I always thought 
that God is so just that he punishes us for all our lad ac- 
tions, and reivards us for all our good ones." 

" Ay, Betty ; but he does it in his own way, and at his 
own time, and not according to our notions of good and 
evil ; for his ways are not as our ways. God, indeed, 
punishes the bad and rewards the good ; but he does not 
do it fully and finally in this world. Indeed, he does not 
set such a value on outward things as to make riches, and 
rank, and beauty, and health, the rewards of piety ; that 
would be acting like weak and erring men, and not like a 
just and holy God. Our belief in a future state of rewards 
and punishments is not always so strong as it ought to be, 
even now ; but how totally would our faith fail if we regu- 
larly saw everything made even in this world. We shall 
lose nothing by having pay-day put off. The longest voy- 
ages make the best returns. So far am I from thinking 
that God is less just, and future happiness less certain, be- 
cause I see the wicked sometimes prosper, and the righteous 
suffer in this world, that I am rather led to believe that God 
is more just, and heaven more certain ; for, in the first 
place, God will not put off his favorite children with so 
poor a lot as the good things of this world ; and next, see- 
ing that the best men here below do not often attain to the 
best things, why, it only serves to strengthen my belief that 
they are not the best things in His eye ; and He has most 
assuredly reserved for those that love Him, such good 
things as ' eye hath not seen, nor ear heard.' God, by keep- 
ing man in paradise while he was innocent, and turning 
him into this world as soon as he had sinned, gave a plain 
proof that he never intended this world, even in its happiest 
state, as a place of reward. My father gave me good prin- 



ciples and useful knowledge ; and while he taught me, by 
a habit of constant employment, to be, if I may so say, in- 
dependent of the world, he, at the same time, led me to a 
constant sense of dependence on God." 

" I do not see, however," interrupted Mrs. Betty, " that 
your religion has been of any use to you. It has been so 
far from preserving you from trouble, that I think you have 
had more than the usual share." 

" No," said Mrs. Simpson ; " nor did Christianity ever 
pretend to exempt its followers from trouble ; this is no part 
of the promise. Nay, the contrary is rather stipulated : 
* in the world ye shall have tribulation.' But if it has not 
taught me to escape sorrow, 1 humbly hope it has taught 
me how to bear it. If it has not taught me not to feel, it has 
taught me not to murmur. I will tell you a little of my 
story. As my father could save little or nothing for me, 
he was very desirous of seeing me married to a young 
gentleman in the neighborhood who expressed a regard 
for me. But while he was anxiously engaged in bringing 
this about, my good father died." 

" How very unlucky !" interrupted Betty. 

" No, Betty," replied Mrs. Simpson, " it was very prov- 
idential ; this man, though he maintained a decent charac- 
ter, had a good fortune, and lived soberly, yet he would 
not have made me happy." 

" Why, what could you want more of a man ?" said 
Betty. 

" Religion," return<;d Mrs. Simpson. '^As my father 
made a creditable appearance, and was very charitable, 
and I was an only child, this gentleman concluded that he 
could give me a considerable fortune ; for he did not know 
that all the poor in his parish are the children of every 
pious clergyman. Finding I had little or nothing left me, 
he withdrew his attentions." 

VOL. I: 1* 



6 TIS ALL FOR THE BEST. 

" What a sad thing !" cried Betty. 

*' No, it was all for the lest ; Providence overruled his 
covetousness to my good. I could not have been happy 
with a man whose soul was set on the perishable things of 
this world ; nor did I esteem him, though I labored to sub- 
mit my own inclinations to those of my kind father. The 
very circumstance of being left pennyless produced directly 
the contrary effect on Mr. Simpson : he was a sensible 
young man, engaged in a prosperous business ; we had long 
highly valued each other \ but while my father lived, he 
thought me above his hopes. We were married \ I found 
him an amiable, industrious, good-tempered man ; he re- 
spected religion and religious people ; but with an excellent 
disposition, I had the grief to find him less pious than I had 
hoped. He was ambitious, and a little too much immersed 
in worldly schemes ; and though I knew it was all done for 
my sake, yet that did not blind me so far as to make me 
think it right. He attached himself so eagerly to business 
that he thought every hour lost in which he was not doing 
something that would tend to raise me to what he called my 
proper rank. The more prosperous he grew, the less re- 
ligious he became ; and I began to find that one might be 
unhappy with a husband she tenderly loved. But one day, 
having been absent on business, he was brought in with his 
leg broken in two places." 

" What a dreadful misfortune !" said Mrs. Betty. 

" What a signal blessing !" said Mrs. Simpson. " Here, 
I am sure I had reason to say all was for the lest : from 
that very hour, in which my outward troubles began, I date 
the beginning of my happiness. Severe suffering, a near 
prospect of death, absence from the world, silence, reflec- 
tion, and, above all, the divine blessing on the prayers and 
Scriptures I read to him, were the means used by our merci- 
ful Father to turn my husband's heart. During this confine- 



TIS ALL FOR THE BEST. 7 

ment he was awakened to a deep sense of his own sinfulness, 
of the vanity of all this world has to bestow, and of his great 
need of a Saviour. It was many months before he could 
leave his bed. During this time his business was neglected. 
His principal clerk took advantage of his absence to receive 
large sums of money in his name, and absconded. On 
hearing of this great loss, our creditors came faster upon 
us than we could answer their demands ; they grew more 
impatient as we were less able to satisfy them; one mis- 
fortune followed another, till at length Mr. Simpson became 
a bankrupt." 

" What an evil !" exclaimed Mrs. Betty. 

" Yet it led, in the end, to much good," resumed Mrs. 
Simpson. " We were forced to leave the town in which 
we had lived with so much credit and comfort, and to be- 
take ourselves to a mean lodging in a neighboring village, 
till my husband's strength should be recruited, and till we 
could have time to look about us and see what was to be 
done. The first night we spent in this poor dwelling my 
husband felt very sorrowful, not for his own sake, but that 
he had brought so much poverty on me, whom he so dearly 
loved. I, on the contrary, was unusually cheerful ; for 
the blessed change in his mind had more than reconciled 
me to the sad change in his circumstances. I was con- 
tented to live with him in a poor cottage for a few years on 
earth, if it might contribute to our spending a blessed eter- 
nity together in heaven. I said to him, instead of lamenting 
that we are now reduced to want all the comforts of life, I 
have sometimes been almost ashamed to live in the full 
enjoyment of them, when I have reflected that my Saviour 
not only chose to deny himself all these enjoyments, but 
even to live a life of hardship for my sake : not one of his 
numerous miracles tended to his own comfort; and though 
we read, at different times, that he both hungered and 



8 'tis all for the best. 

thirsted, yet it was not for his own gratification that he 
once changed water into wine ; and I have often been 
struck with the near position of that chapter in which this 
miracle is recorded, to that in which he thirsted for a 
draught of water at the well of Samaria. John 2 and 4. 

CD 

It was for others, not himself, that eTcn the humble sus- 
tenance of barley bread was multiplied. See here, we 
have a bed left us ; (I had, indeed, nothing but straw to fill 
it with ;) but the Saviour of the world ' had not where to 
lay his head.' My husband smiled through his tears, 
and we sat down to supper. It consisted of a roll and a 
bit of cheese which I had brought with me, and we ate it 
thankfully. Seeing Mr. Simpson beginning to relapse into 
distrust, the following conversation, as nearly as I can 
remember, took place between us. 

" He began by I'emarking, that it was a mysterious 
Providence that he had been less prosperous since he had 
been less attached to the world, and that his endeavors had 
not been followed with that success which usually attends 
industry. 

" I took the liberty to reply. Your heavenly Father 
sees on wliich side your danger lies, and is mercifully 
bringing you, by these disappointments, to trust less in the 
world, and more in himself. My dear Mr. Simpson, added 
I, we trust every body but God. As children, we obey 
our parents implicitly, because we are taught to believe all 
is for our good which they command or forbid. If we 
undertake a voyage, we trust entirely to the skill and con- 
duct of the pilot ; we never torment ourselves with thinking 
that he will carry us east, when he has promised to carry 
us west. If a dear and tried friend makes us a promise, we 
depend on him for the performance, and do not wound 
his feelings by our suspicions. When you used to go your 
annual journey in the mail-coach, you confided yourself to 



the care of the coachman, that he would carry you where 
he had engaged to ; you were not anxiously watching him, 
and distrusting, and inquiring at every turn. When the 
doctor sends home your medicine, don't you so fully trust 
in his ability and good-will that you take it in full confi- 
dence ? You never think of inquiring what are the 
ingredients, why they are mixed in that particular way, 
why there is more of one and less of another, and why 
they are bitter instead of sweet. If one dose does not cure 
you, he orders another ; and changes the medicine when he 
sees the first does you no good, or that by long use the 
same medicine has lost its effect ; if a weaker fail, he pre- 
scribes a stronger; you swallow all, you submit to all, 
never questioning the skill or the kindness of the physi- 
cian. God is the only being whom we do not trust ; though 
he is the only one who is fully competent, both in will and 
power, to fulfil all his promises; and who has solemnly 
and repeatedly pledged himself to fulfil them, in those 
Scriptures which we receive as his revealed will. 

" Mr. Simpson thanked me for 'my little sermon,' as he 
called it ; but said, at the same time, that what made my 
exhortations produce a powerful effect on his mind, was the 
patient cheerfulness with which (he was pleased to say) I 
bore my share in our misfortunes. A submissive behavior, 
he said, was the best practical illustration of a real faith. 

" When we had thanked God for our supper, we prayed 
together; after which we read the eleventh chapter of the 
Epistle to the Hebrews. When my husband had finished 
it he said, 'Surely, if God's chief favorites have been 
martyrs, is not that a sufficient proof that this world is not 
a place of happiness, nor earthly prosperity the reward of 
virtue ? Shall we, after reading this chapter, complain of 
our petty trials ? Shall we not rather be thankful that our 
affliction is so light V 



10 'tis all for the best. 

" Next day Mr. Simpson walked out in search of some 
employment, by which we might be supported. He got a 
recommendation to Mr. Thomas, an opulent farmer and 
factor, who had large concerns, and wanted a skilful per- 
son to assist him in keeping his accounts. This we thought 
a providential circumstance ; for we found that the salary 
would serve to procure us at least all the necessaries of 
life. The farmer was so pleased with Mr. Simpson's quick- 
ness, regularity, and good sense, that he offered us, of his 
own accord, a little neat cottage of his own, which then 
happened to be vacant, and told us we should live rent-free, 
and promised to be a friend to us." 

"All does seem for the best now, indeed," interrupted 
Mrs. Betty. 

'•' We shall see," said Mrs. Simpson, and thus went on : 

" I now became very easy and very happy ; and was 
cheerfully employed in putting our few things in order, 
and making every thing look to the best advantage. My 
husband, who wrote all the day for his employer, in the 
evenings assisted me in doing up our little garden. This 
was a source of much pleasure to us ; we both loved a 
garden, and we were not only contented, but cheerful. 
Our employer had been absent some weeks on his annual 
journey. He came home on Saturday night, and the next 
morning sent for Mr. Simpson to come and settle his ac- 
counts, which were behindhand on account of his long 
absence. We were just going to church, and Mr. Simp- 
son sent back word that he would call and speak to him on 
his way home. A second message followed, ordering him 
to come to the farmer's directly. We agreed to walk 
round that way, and that my husband should call and ex- 
cuse his attendance. 

" The farmer, more ignorant and worse educated than 
his ploughman, with all that pride and haughtiness which 



11 

the possession of wealth, without knowledge or religion, is 
apt to give, rudely asked my husband what he meant by 
sending him word that he could not come to him till the 
next day, and insisted that he should stay and settle the 
accounts then. 

" ' Sir,' said my husband, in a very respectful manner, 
* I am on my road to church, and am afraid I shall be too 
late.' 

" ' Are you so V said the farmer. ' Do you know who 
sent for you ? You may, however, go to church, if you will, 
so you make haste back ; and, d'ye hear, you may leave 
your accounts with me, as I conclude you have brought 
them with you ; I will look them over by the time you re- 
turn, and then you and I can do all I want to have done to- 
day in about a couple of hours ; and I will give you home 
some letters to copy for me in the evening.' 

" ' Sir,' answered my husband, ' I dare not obey you ; 
it is the Sabbath.' 

" ' And so you refuse to settle my accounts only because 
it is Sunday V 

" ' Sir,' replied Mr. Simpson, ' if you would give me a 
handful of silver and gold, I dare not break the command- 
ment of my God.' 

" ' Well,' said the farmer, ' but this is not breaking the 
commandment ; I don't order you to drive my cattle, or to 
work in my garden, or to do anything which you might 
fancy would be a bad example.' 

" ' Sir,' replied my husband, ' the example, indeed, goes 
a great way, but it is not the first object. The deed is 
wrong in itself.' 

" ' Well, but I shall not keep you from church ; and 
when you have been there, there is no harm in doing a 
little business or taking a little pleasure the rest of the day.' 

" ' Sir,' answered my husband, ' the commandment does 



12 'tis all for the best. 

not say, thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath morning, but the 
Sabbath day.^ 

" ' Get out of my house, you puritanical rascal, and out 
of my cottage too,' said the farmer ; ' for if you refuse to 
do my work, I am not bound to keep my engagement with 
you ; as you will not obey me as a master, I shall not pay 
you as a servant.' 

" ' Sir,' said Mr. Simpson, ' I would gladly obey you, 
but I have a Master in heaven whom I dare not disobey.' 

" ' Then let him find employment for you,' said the en- 
raged farmer ; ' for I fancy you will get but poor employ- 
ment on earth with these scrupulous notions ; and so send 
home my papers directly, and pack out of the parish.' 

"-'Out of your cottage,' said my husband, 'I certainly 
will ; but as to the parish, I hope I may remain in that, if I 
can find employment.' 

" ' I will make it too hot to hold you,' replied the farmer ; 
* so you had better troop off, bag and baggage ; for I am 
overseer, and as you are sickly, it is my duty not to let any 
vagabonds stay in the parish who are likely to become 
chargeable.' 

" By the time my husband returned home, for he found 
it too late to go to church, I had got our little dinner ready : 
it was a better one than we had for a long while been accus- 
tomed to see, and I was unusually cheerful at this improve- 
ment in our circumstances. I saw his eyes full of tears; 
and oh ! with what pain did he bring himself to tell me 
that it was the last dinner we must ever eat in that house ! 
I took his hand with a smile, and only said, ' The Lord 
gave, and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of 
the Lord." 

" 'Notwithstanding this sudden stroke of injustice,' said 
my husband, ' this is still a happy country. Our employer, 
it is true, may turn us out at a moment's notice, because 



'tis all for the best. 13 

the cottage is his own ; but he has no further power over 
us ; he cannot confine or punish us. His riches, it is true, 
give him power to insult, but not to oppress us. The same 
laws to which the affluent resort, protect us also. And as 
to our being driven out from a cottage, how many persons 
of the highest rank have lately been driven out from their 
palaces and castles ; persons, too, born in a station which 
we never enjoyed, and used to all the indulgences of that 
rank and wealth we never knew, and at this moment wan- 
dering over the face of the earth without a house and with- 
out bread, exiles and beggars ; while we, blessed be God, 
are in our own native land ; we have still our liberty, our 
limbs, the protection of just and equal laws, our churches, 
our Bibles, and our Sabbaths.' 

" This happy state of my husband's mind hushed my 
sorrows, and I never once murmured ; nay, I sat down to 
dinner with a degree of cheerfulness, endeavoring to cast 
all our care on ' Him that careth for us.' We had begged 
to stay till the next morning, as Sunday was not the day on 
which we liked to remove ; but we were ordered not to 
sleep another night in that house ; so, as we had little to 
carry, we marched off in the evening to the poor lodging 
we had before occupied. The thought that my husband 
had cheerfully renounced his little all for conscience' sake, 
gave an unspeakable serenity to my mind ; and I felt thank- 
ful, that, though cast down, we were not forsaken ; nay, I 
felt a lively gratitude to God, that while I doubted not he 
would accept this little sacrifice, as it was heartily made 
for his sake, he had graciously forborne to call us to greater 
trials." 

" And so you were turned adrifl once more ? Well, 
ma'am, saving your presence, I hope you won't be such a 
fool as to say all was for the best now." 



14 

" Yes, Betty, He who does all things well, now made 
his kind providence more manifest than ever. That very 
night, w^hile we were sweetly sleeping in our poor lodging, 
the pretty cottage out of which we were so unkindly driven 
was burned to the ground by a flash of lightning, which 
caught the thatch and so completely consumed the whole 
little building, that had it not been for that merciful Provi- 
dence who thus overruled the cruelty of the farmer for the 
preservation of our lives, we might have been burned to 
ashes with the house. ' It was the Lord's doing, and it was 
marvellous in our eyes.' * O that men would therefore 
praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful 
works to the children of men !' 

" I will not tell you all the trials and afflictions which 
befell us afterwards. I would also spare my heart the sad 
story of my husband's death." 

'' Well, that was another blessing, too, I suppose," said 
Betty. 

" O, it was the severest trial ever sent me," replied Mrs. 
Simpson, a few tears quietly stealing down her face. " I 
almost sunk under it. Nothing but the abundant grace of 
God could have carried me through such a visitation; and 
yet I now feel it to be the greatest mercy I ever experienced. 
He was my idol; no trouble ever came near my heart 
while he was with me. I got more credit than I deserved 
for my patience under trials, which were easily borne while 
he who shared and lightened them was spared to me. I 
had, indeed, prayed and struggled to be weaned from the 
world ; but still my affection for him tied me down to earth 
with a strong cord ; and though I earnestly tried to keep 
my eyes fixed on the eternal world, yet I viewed it with too 
feeble a faith ; I viewed it at too great a distance. I found 
it difficult to realize it. I had deceived myself. I had fan- 
cied that I bore my troubles so well from the pure love of 



'tis all for the best. 15 

God ; but I have since found that my love for my husband 
had too great a share in reconciling me to every difficulty 
which 1 underwent for him. I lost him ; the charm was 
broken ; the cord which tied me down to earth was cut : 
this world had nothing left to engage me ; Heaven had 
now no rival in my heart. Though my love of God was 
before sincere, yet I found there wanted this blow to make 
it more perfect. But though all that had made life pleasant 
to me was gone, I did not sink as those who have no hope. 
I prayed that I might still, in this trying conflict, be ena- 
bled to adorn the doctrine of God my Saviour. 

" After many more hardships, I was at length so happy 
as to get an asylum in this almshouse. Here my cares 
are at an end, but not my duties." 

" Now you are wrong again," interrupted Mrs. Betty ; 
" your duty is now to take care of yourself; for I am sure 
you have nothing to spare." 

" There you are mistaken again," said Mrs. Simpson. 
" People are so apt to fancy that money is all in all, that all 
the other gifts of Providence are overlooked as things of 
no value. I have here a great deal of leisure ; a good 
part of this I devote to the wants of those who are more 
distressed than myself. I work a little for the old, and I 
instruct the young. My eyes are good ; this enables me 
to read the Bible both to those whose sight is decayed and 
to those who were never taught to read. I have tolerable 
health, so that I am able occasionally lo sit up with the 
sick ; in the intervals of nursing I can pray with them. 
In my younger days I thought it not much to sit up late 
for my pleasure ; shall I now think much of sitting up, 
now and then, to watch by a dying bed? My Saviour 
waked and watched for me in the garden and on the 
mount ; and shall I do nothing for his suffering members ? 
It is only by keeping his sufferings in view that we can 



16 'tis all for the best. 

truly practise charity to others, or exercise self-denial to 
ourselves." 

" Well," said Mrs. Betty, " I think if I had lived in such 
genteel life as you have done, I could never be reconciled 
to an almshouse; and I am afraid I should never forgive 
any of those who were the cause of sending me there, par- 
ticularly that farmer Thomas, who turned you out of 
doors." 

"Betty," said Mrs. Simpson, "I not only forgive him 
heartily, but I remember him in my prayers as one of 
those instruments with which it has pleased God to work 
for my good. O never put off forgiveness to a dying bed ! 
When people come to die, we often see how the conscience 
is troubled with sins, of which before they hardly felt the 
existence. How ready are they to make restitution of ill- 
gotten gain ; and this perhaps for two reasons : from a feel- 
ing conviction that it can be of no use to them where they 
are going, as well as from a near view of their own re- 
sponsibility. We also hear from the most hardened, of 
death-bed forgiveness of enemies. Even malefactors at 
Tyburn forgive. But why must we wait for a dying bed, 
to do what ought to be done now ? Believe me, that scene 
will be so full of terror and amazement to the soul, that we 
need not load it with unnecessary business." 

Just as Mrs. Simpson was saying these words, a letter 
was brought her from the minister of the parish where the 
farmer lived, by whom Mr. Simpson had been turned out 
of his cottage. The letter was as follows : 

" Madam — I write to tell you that your old oppressor, 
Mr. Thomas, is dead. I attended him in his last moments. 
O may my latter end never be like his ! I shall not soon 
forget his despair at the approach of death. His riches, 



'tis all for the best. 17 

which had been his sole joy, now doubled his sorrows ; for 
he was going where they could be of no use to him ; and 
he found, too late, that he had laid up no treasure in heaven. 
He felt great concern at his past life, but for nothing more 
than his unkindness to Mr. Simpson. He charged me to 
find you out, and let you know, that by his will he be- 
queathed you five hundred pounds, as some compensation. 
He died in great agonies, declaring with his last breath, 
that if he could live his life over again, he would serve God, 
and strictly observe the Sabbath. Yours, &c. 

"J. Johnson." 

Mrs. Betty, who had listened attentively to the letter, 
jumped up, clapped her hands, and cried out, "Now all is 
for the best, and I shall see you a lady once more." 

" I am indeed thankful for this mercy," said Mrs. Simp- 
son, " and am glad that riches were not sent me till I had 
learned, as I humbly hope, to make a right use of them. 
But come, let us go in, for I am very cold, and find I have 
sat too long in the night air." 

Betty was now ready enough to acknowledge the hand 
of Providence in this prosperous event, though she was 
blind to it when the dispensation was more dark. Next 
morning she went early to visit Mrs. Simpson, but not see- 
ing her below, she went up stairs, where, to her great sor- 
row, she found her confined to her bed by a fever, caught 
the night before by sitting so late on the bench, reading the 
letter and talking it over. 

Betty was now more ready to cry out against Provi- 
dence than ever. "What! to catch a fever while you 
were reading that very letter which told you about your 
good fortune, which would have enabled you to live like a 
lady, as you are ! I never will believe this is for the 



18 'tis all for the best. 

best; to be deprived of life just as you were beginning to 
enjoy it !" 

" Betty," said Mrs. Simpson, " we must learn not to 
rate health, nor life itself, too highly. There is little in 
life, for its own sake, to be fond of. As a good archbishop 
used to say, 'tis but the same thing over again, or probably 
worse ; so many more nights and days, summers and win- 
ters ; a repetition of the same pleasures, but with less relish 
for them ; a return of the same, or greater pains, but with 
less strength, and perhaps less patience to bear them." 

*' Well," replied Betty, " I did think that Providence 
was at last giving you your reward." 

"Reward!" cried Mrs. Simpson, " O no ! my merciful 
Father will not put me off with so poor a portion as wealth ; 
I feel I shall die." 

" It is very hard, indeed," said Betty, " so good as you 
are, to be taken ofFjust as prosperity was beginning." 

" You think I am good just now," said Mrs. Simpson, 
" because I am prosperous. Success is no sure mark of 
God's favor ; at this rate, you, who judge by outward things, 
would have thought Herod a better man than John the 
Baptist ; and if I may be allowed to say so, you, on the 
principle that the sufferer is a sinner, would have be- 
lieved Pontius Pilate higher in God's favor than the Sav- 
iour, whom he condemned to die for your sins and mine." 

In a few days Mrs. Betty found that her new friend was 
dying, and though she was struck at her resignation, she 
could not forbear murmuring that so good a woman should 
be taken away at the very instant when she came into 
possession of so much money. 

" Betty," said Mrs. Simpson, in a feeble voice, " I be- 
lieve you love me dearly, you would do anything to cure 
me ; yet you do not love me so well as God loves me, 
though you would raise me up, and he is putting a period 



19 

to my life. He has never sent me a single stroke which 
was not absolutely necessary for me. You, if you could 
restore me, might be laying me open to some temptation 
from which God, by removing, will deliver me. Yo'ir 
kindness in making this world so smooth for me, I might 
for ever have deplored in a world of misery. God's grace, 
in afflicting me, will hereafter be the subject of my praises 
in a world of blessedness. Betty," added the dying wo- 
man, " do you really think that I am going to a place of 
rest and joy eternal ?" 

" To be sure I do," said Betty. 

" Do you firmly believe that I am going to the ' assem- 
bly of the first-born ; to the spirits of just men made per- 
fect ; to God the Judge of all ; and to Jesus the Mediator 
of the new covenant ?' " 

"I am sure you are," said Betty. 

" And yet," resumed she, '' you would detain me from 
all this happiness; and you think my merciful Father is 
using me unkindly by removing me from a world of sin, 
and sorrow, and temptation, to such joys as have not en- 
tered into the heart of man to conceive ; while it would 
have better suited your notions of reward to defer my en- 
trance into the blessedness of heaven, that I might have 
enjoyed a legacy of a few hundred pounds ! Believe my 
dying words — all is for the best." 

Mrs. Simpson expired soon after, in a frame of mind 
which convinced her new friend that God's ways are not 
as our ways. 



20 'tis all for the best. 



God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

Deep in unfathomable mines 

Of never-failing skill, 
He treasures up his bright designs, 

And works his sovereign will. 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; 

The clouds ye so much dread 
Are big with mercy, and shall break 

In blessings on your head. 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 

But trust him for his grace ; 
Behind a frowning Providence 

He hides a smiling face. 

His purposes will ripen fast. 

Unfolding every hour ; 
The bud may have a bitter taste, 

Bat sweet will be the flower. 

Blind unbelief is sure to err, 

And scan his work in vain ; 
God is his own interpreter, 

And he will make it plain. Cowper. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Xo. 13. 



PROFANE SWEARING 



It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme 

Rudely appealed to on each triflmg theme ! 

Maintain your rank ; vulgarity despise ; 

To SWEAR is neither brave, polite, nor wise. 

You would not swear upon the bed of death ; 

Reflect ! your Maker now could stop your breath. cowpkb. 

The excellent Mr. Howe, being at dinner with some 
persons of fashion, a gentleman expatiated largely in praise 
of King Charles I., introducing some harsh reflections upon 
others. Mr. Howe, observing that the gentleman mixed 
many oaths with his discourse, told him that, in his humble 
opinion, he had omitted a singular excellence in the char- 
acter of that prince. The gentleman eagerly desired him 
to mention it, and seemed all impatience to know what it 
was. " It was this, sir," said Mr. Howe : " he was never 
heard to swear an oath in common conversation." The 
hint w^as as politely received as given ; and the gentleman 
promised to break off the practice. 

The same Mr. Howe, once conversing with a nobleman 
in St. James's Park, who swore profanely in his conversa- 
tion, expressed great satisfaction in the thought that there 
is a God who governs the world, who will finally make 
retribution to all according to their works ; and " who, my 
lord," added he, " will make a difference between him that 
sweareth, and him that feareth an oath." His lordship im- 
mediately answered, " I thank you, sir, for your freedom ; 
I take your meaning, and shall endeavor to make a good 
use of it." Mr. H. replied, " I have reason to thank your 
lordship for saving me the most difficult part of the dis- 
course, which is the application." 

VOL. T. 8 



2 PROFANE SWEARING. 

Another time, passing two persons of quality, who were 
talking with great eagerness, and damned each other re- 
peatedly ; Mr. Howe said to them, taking off his hat in a re- 
spectful manner, " I pray God, save you both :" for which 
handsome reproof they immediately returned him thanks. 

The truly honorable Mr. Boyle, as eminent for philos- 
ophy as for morality, was so careful to avoid this profane 
custom, that he never mentioned the name of God in his 
conversation, without making an observable pause before it ; 
that so he might both feel, and diffuse among the company, 
the veneration due to the sacred Majesty of the universe. 

The brave Col. Gardiner took pains to prevent swearing 
in his regiment, at the head of which he would publicly 
declare his abhorrence of it, urging all his officers to avoid 
giving, by their example, any sanction to a crime which it 
was their duty to punish. A number of military gentlemen 
once dined with him at his house, when he addressed them 
with much respect, and begged leave to remind them that, 
as he was a justice of the peace in that district, he was 
bound by oath to put the laws against swearing into execu- 
tion ; and therefore entreated them to be upon their guard. 
Only one of the gentlemen offended on that day, who im- 
mediately paid the penalty, which was given to the poor, 
with the universal approbation of the company. 

A miOment's calm consideration will convince any ra- 
tional person of the impropriety of this custom, which is 
inexcusable, irrational, vulgar, and profane. 

It is inexcusahJe. There is les3 temptation to this vice 
than to any other. Some vices are excused by calling them 
constitutional ; but, as Archbishop Tillotson observes, no 
man is born w^ith a swearing constitution. It cannot pro- 
cure credit to an assertion ; because it is oftener used to 
confirm a rash or doubtful saying than a plain truth. The 
man who swears, seems to doubt his own veracity ; and 
well may others suspect it ; for how can we believe he will 



PKOFANE SWEARING. 3 

be true to man, who is false to God ? Besides, the custom 
of swearing to truths may insensibly lead a man to swear 
to falsehoods. Persons addicted to this practice scarcely 
know when they swear ; and some, when reproved for it, 
have sworn that they did not swear. 

It is irrational. What greater proof of stupid ignorance 
can be given, than to use words without meaning ? You 
call upon God (shocking to repeat) to damn your eyes — your 
blood — your soul. But have you considered what damna- 
tion is ? It is a word of dreadful meaning ! It is to be pro- 
nounced accursed of God in the day of judgment. It is to 
hear Jesus say, " Depart from me, ye cursed, into ever- 
lasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." But 
surely you do not mean this. 

It is vulgar. That some gentlemen swear, is too true ; 
but it can never be deemed the mark of a gentleman ; for 
it is a vice common to the vilest characters in the lowest 
ranks of society. It produces the most disgraceful equali- 
ty — it puts the honored, the learned, the polished, and the 
delicate, upon a level with the most ignorant and depraved. 

It is profane. Do you believe there is a God ? Have 
you heard that he is the high and lofty One who inhabiteth 
eternity, before whom angels veil their faces — whose exist- 
ence and terrible Majesty even the devils believe, trembling ? 
Go, profane sinner, hide thyself in the dust, whence thou 
wast originally taken. Who art thou, impiously daring to 
set thy mouth against the heavens ? You would not swear 
in the presence of the governor of the state ; and will you 
treat the King of kings, the God of the whole earth, with 
less respect ? You would perhaps refrain from swearing 
many hours together, if it were to exempt you from some 
temporal loss, or to procure some temporal gain ; and do 
you treat the commands, the promises, and the threatenings 
of the Most High God, as if they were unworthy of your 
notice 1 The sovereign command of the Governor of the 



4 PROFANE SWEARING. 

universe is, Swear not at all. He who said, " Thou 
shalt do no murder," hath also said, " Thou shalt not take 
the name of the Lord thy God in vain;" and the awful 
sanction of this command is, " for the Lord will not hold 
him guiltless that taketh his name in vain :" that is, he will 
punish him with signal vengeance — he will make him feel 
the thunder of his irresistible and destructive power. 

Is the reader alarmed by the terrible sanction of the 
precept here cited 1 He has reason to be alarmed ; yet let 
him not sink into despair. " Let the wicked forsake his 
way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts : and let him 
return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him ; 
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." Isaiah, 
55 : 7. " Christ died for the ungodly." Rom. 5:6. Look, 
by faith, for pardoning mercy through his mediation, and 
thou shalt find that he who had compassion on Peter, will 
have compassion on thee : but it is proper that, if thou hast 
polluted thy life in time past with oaths and curses, thou 
shouldst now, like him, weep bitterly, and repent sincerely. 

Hitherto thy tongue has been thy shame, but from this 
time let it become thy glory. Let it be used to the honor 
of Him whose word says, " Bless, and curse not :" and 
again, " Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your 
mouth;" but "that which is good to the use of edifying, 
that it may minister grace to the hearers." 

Besides these horrid oaths, which shock every decent 
ear, there is a vicious habit, indulged by many persons, 
otherwise moral, and among these even ladies themselves, 
of a thoughtless profanation of their Maker's name, on occa- 
sions the most trivial ; as when they say, " Good God ! 
God forbid! God bless us! O Lord," &c. &c. Such lan- 
guage proceeds from want of reverence for the best of Be- 
ings, and is as direct a violation of that command, " Thou 
shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain," as 
the most vulgar and profane oaths. 



]¥o. 13. 

CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

OF 

FEMALES 

IN 

PAGAN AND MOHAMMEDAN COUNTRIES. 




'».-*«;«ei\-^^c.r- 



The following pages contain a simple statement of facts. Their truth 
is attested by men of various characters and professions — ^by Protes- 
tants, Catholics, Infidels, and Pagans — by geographers, travellers, 
and missionaries ; who all agree in representing the condition of the 
female sex in heathen countries as degraded and miserable in the 
extreme. 

It is difficult, perhaps impossible, to describe the wretch- 
edness of heathen females, without wounding the feelings 
of the benevolent, or shocking the delicacy of the refined. 
But the truth must be told- The remedy can never be 



Z CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

applied, unless the disease is known. The charity that 
kindles at the tale of woe, can never act with adequate effi- 
ciency till it is made to see the pollution and guilt of six 
hundred millions, now buried in the death-shades of hea- 
thenism. Shall we then, however painful the sight, shrink 
from the contemplation of their real state ? We shall only 
see what they endure. 

I. Their Condition. 

1. They are despised. The heathen female is viewed 
with contempt, from the morning of her existence. The 
birth of a daughter, in most unevangelized countries, is 
an occasion of sorrow. Frowned upon by her parents 
and relatives, her sex is often a sufficient reason for putting 
an immediate end to her existence ; (1)* and if she is 
permitted to live, it is only to witness the gathering cloud 
of darkness and misery which hangs over the whole course 
of her life. Women, in all Pagan and Mohammedan coun- 
tries, are regarded as inferior to men ; created only to be 
subservient to their wants and pleasures. You could not 
offer a greater insult to a Mohammedan in Persia than to 
inquire after the female part of his family, even were they 
dangerously ill. (2) Such contempt for the female charac- 
ter, and such opinions respecting the design of woman's 
creation, are sanctioned by the Koran, whose doctrines 
command the belief, and determine the practice, of one 
hundred and twenty millions of the human race. 

The " sacred books " of the Hindoos, whose precepts 
sway the minds of one hundred millions, speak thus : " In 
every stage of life, woman is created to obey. At first, she 

* The figures refer to a list of most of the writers and books on 
whose authority these statements are made, which the reader will find 
on the last page. 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 3 

yields obedience to her father and mother. When married, 
she submits to her husband. In old age, she must be ruled 
by her children. During her life, she can never be under 
her own control." " Women have no business with the 
text of the Vedu. Having therefore no evidence of law, 
and no knowledge of expiatory texts, sinful woman must be 
as foul as falsehood itself." (3) Are such sentiments con- 
fined to the pages of their " sacred books ?" No ; they live 
in the heart, and govern the life of every Hindoo. Facts in 
proof and illustration of this will appear in the sequel. 

But are females less despised, where no " sacred 
books " condemn them to perpetual disgrace and subjec- 
tion ? Contemplate their condition in the Society Islands 
before the introduction of Christianity. Men were con- 
sidered " rah," sacred ; while women were regarded as 
"no*ah," impure, or common. Men were allowed to eat 
several kinds of meat, cocoa-nuts, plantains, and other 
articles of food offered to the gods ; which females were 
forbidden to touch, under pain of death. The fires, also, 
at which the food of the men was cooked, the baskets in 
which it was kept, and the houses in which they ate, were 
sacred ; females being forbidden to use the former, or enter 
the latter, under the same fearfuV penalty. (4) 

2. Their education is neglected. This is true of every 
rank, wherever the Bible has not rescued woman from 
degradation. Indeed, must not this naturally result from 
the contempt in which she is held ? Among rich and poor, 
in the families of princes and peasants, she is alike ignorant. 
Probably, throughout the whole Pagan and Mohammedan 
world, there does not exist a single school for the education 
of females, except those established by Christian benevo- 
lence. In Mohammedan countries they are sometimes 
instructed in embroidery, music, dancing, and such other 
external accomplishments as render them fitter instruments 



4 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

for their master's pleasure ; but not a thought is bestowed 
upon the cultivation of the mind. Reading and writing are 
to them unknown. The immortal soul is utterly neg- 
lected. (5) 

In Hindostan, not twenty in as many millions are blessed 
with the common rudiments of Hindoo learning. 

In Ceylon, when the American missionaries arrived, 
not one in a district containing a population of two hundred 
thousand could read. The cultivation of the female mind 
is thought to be not only vain, but dangerous to the welfare 
of society ; and the direst curses are denounced against the 
woman who may aspire to the dangerous eminence of being 
able to read and write. It is supposed that the employ- 
ments proper for woman do not require education ; for she 
can sweep the house, cook the food, collect fuel, wait on her 
lord, and feed her children, without it ; and having *dis- 
charged these duties with fidelity, the whole work of life is 
accomplished. (3) 

A missionary, in conversation with some respectable 
natives, who were anxious to have schools established for 
boys, remarked that the Christian public were desirous of 
doing every thing in their power to establish schools for the 
instruction of girls. The oldest and most intelligent of 
them replied, " What have we to do with them ? Let them 
remain as they are." The missionary reminded him that 
females were passing into eternity ignorant of the way of 
salvation, and in danger of perishing forever. " They do 
not know how to go to heaven," replied the native ; " but 
they know how to go to hell, and let them go." (6) 

3. They are not at their own disposal in marriage. In 
some unevangelized countries they are betrothed by their 
parents in infancy, or childhood ; in others, they are sold, 
at a more advanced age, at prices varying according to their 
beauty or rank. A Circassian female, fourteen years of 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 5 

age, who had been captured by the Cossacks, being told she 
was to be set at liberty, begged to remain their prisoner ; 
because she feared her parents would sell her, and she 
might fall into the hands of masters less humane than the 
Cossacks. (7) 

In some nations, custom, handed down from generation 
to generation, till it has become as strong as law, forbids a 
woman to reject proposals of marriage, from whatever man 
they come. Pleased or displeased, she must leave her par- 
ents, and the companions of her early years, to drag out 
the remainder of her earthly existence in subjection to the 
authority of a tyrant. (5) In Hindostan, the greatest dis- 
grace is attached to the character of any female who 
remains unmarried after eleven years of age. So foul is 
the stain, that, in order to avoid it, several who had passed 
that age were married to an aged Brahmin, when his 
friends were carrying him to the Ganges to die upon 
its banks. (3) 

4. The practice of polygamy prevents them from enjoying 
the affections of their husbands, and the happiness of domestic 
life. This practice, so destructive of all conjugal felicity, 
prevails among the higher ranks in almost every Pagan and 
Mohammedan country. It is authorized by the Koran, 
which permits every man to marry four wives. But by 
the rich this limitation is commonly disregarded. With 
them the number varies from the lawful four, to the three 
hundred, five hundred, fifteen hundred, or two thousand of 
the Grand-Seignior. (8) 

In Hindostan, the Kooleen Brahmins, considered the 
most holy of the whole Brahminical sect, claim, as a privi- 
lege of their order, the right to marry one hundred wives. 
Although they do not often exercise this right to its full 
extent, the number of their wives is frequently not less than 
forty or fifty. (9) As in Mohammedan, so in Pagan coun- 



6 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

tries, the number of a man's wives is limited only by his 
income or inclination. The evils resulting from this un- 
hallowed practice can be better conceived than described. 
Totally destructive of domestic peace, it renders every 
female within its influence an object of constant and bitter 
persecution from the other wives of her husband, or a prey 
to the devouring envy, hatred, and malice, which continually 
rankle in her own bosom. 

5. They are liahle to he divorced hy their husbands at 
any moment, and left without means of support. In Hindos- 
tan the husband may divorce his wife at pleasure. Says 
the " divine Munoo," " The woman who speaks unkindly 
to her husband, may be superseded by another without 
delay." Let him address her by the title " mother," and 
the marriage covenant is dissolved. This is the only bill 
of divorce requisite. (3) When thus cast out by her hus- 
band, the customs of society prevent her from obtaining an 
honorable livelihood. (10) In other countries divorce is 
equally easy to the husband, and extremely common. 

6. Among the higher ranks in Mohammedan and par- 
tially civilized Pagan countries, they are secluded from the 
society of men. In Hindostan and China, the wife of a man 
of rank and wealth is continually secluded, and closely 
guarded. She is not permitted to eat with her husband. 
She never mixes with company, even at her own house ; 
and is never seen abroad with her husband, unless on a 
journey. A Hindoo female, seeing an European lady 
walking arm-in-arm with her husband, exclaimed in the 
utmost astonishment, " O ma ! what is this ? Do you see ? 
They take their wives by the hand, and lead them through 
the streets without the least shame !" (1) 

In the houses of the higher class, the harem, or women's 
apartment; is literally a prison. It is usually so situated 
and constructed, that the inmates can neither be seen from 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 



without, nor enjoy any prospect but that of an adjoining 
garden surrounded with lofty walls. It is never entered 
by any male except the husband. The wife is seldom per- 
mitted to go abroad — never without being concealed in a 
close carriage, or having her face so enveloped that she 
could not be recognized even by the most intimate friend. 
If she does, it is at her peril. Says Col. Phipps, in an 
address before the Church Missionary Society, " At Alex- 
andria, in Egypt, I have seen a Turk, at mid-day, in the 
open street, cut off a woman's head, for no other reason 
than because he saw her without a veil, and her person 
was not concealed in her cloak." (6) 

The strictness with which the inmates of the harem are 
guarded, may be learned from the following particulars re- 
specting the women belonging to the seraglio of the Grand- 
Seignior of Turkey. " Whenever they go abroad, which is 
very seldoiti, a troop of black eunuchs convey them to the 
boats, which are enclosed with lattices and linen curtains; 
or, if their excursion is on land, they are put into close 
chariots, and signals are made at certain distances, that no 
one approach the road through which they pass, under pain 
of death. When the Sultan permits them to walk in the 
gardens of the seraglio, they are cleared of every thing 
human, and a guard of black eunuchs, with drawn 
sabres, march on patrol. Any individual found in the 
gardens, even through ignorance or inadvertence, is in- 
stantly sabred, and his head laid at the feet of the Grand- 
Seignior, who bestows a large reward upon the guard for 
his fidelity." (8) 

This close confinement and seclusion places the wife 
entirely in the husband's power. Whatever abuse she may. 
sufier, who shall redress her wrongs ? Says a traveller, 
while residing at Constantinople, " The body of a young 
woman, of surprising beauty, was found one morning near 



8 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

my house. She had received two wounds, one in her side, 
the other in her breast, and was not quite cold. Many- 
came to admire her beauty ; but no one could tell who she 
was, no woman's face being known out of her own family. 
She was buried privately, and little inquiry was made for 
the wretch who had imbrued his hands in her blood." (11) 
The Pacha of Acre, in Palestine, a few years since, put to 
death seven of his wives at one time, with his own hands. (7) 

7. In the lower ranks, and in barbarous Pagan countries, 
they are compelled to perform the most servile labors. In 
Ceylon a recent traveller was surprised to see strong and 
healthy men engaged in washing, ironing, preparing mus- 
lin dresses, and other similar employments, while slender 
females "were carrying heavy burdens through the streets, 
or laboring in the fields. 

In China, where, on account of the vast number of rivers 
and canals, more business is done upon the water than in 
any other part of the world, women are obliged, in addition 
to what, in other countries, are considered their proper em- 
ployments, to perform the duties of boatmen. (12) On land, 
they may be seen performing the various parts of agricul- 
tural labor, frequently with an infant on their backs ; while 
their husbands are gaming, or otherwise idling away theij* 
time. (13) Barrows asserts that he has frequently seen the 
wife dragging the light plough or harrow, while the hus- 
band was performing the easier task of sowing the seed. 
A Jesuit missionary assures us, that he has seen a woman 
and an ass yoked together to the same plough, while the 
inhuman husband was guiding it and driving his team. 

What labors are exacted of the wife among uncivilized 
Pagans, let the reader learn from one of their number, who, 
in describing her own, has described the condition of mill- 
ions of her sex. A missionary in South America reprov- 
ing an Indian mother for the destruction of her female 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. ■ 9 

infants, she replied with tears, " I would to God, father — I 
would to God that my mother had, by my death, prevented 
the distresses I endure, and have yet to endure, as long as 
I live. Consider, father, our deplorable condition. Our 
husbands go out to hunt, and trouble themselves no farther. 
We are dragged along with one infant at the breast and 
another in a basket. They return in the evening without 
any burden. We return with the burden of our children ; 
and though tired with a long march, must labor all night 
in grinding corn to make chica for them. They get drunk, 
and in their drunkenness beat us, draw us by the hair of 
the head, and tread us under foot. And what have we to 
comfort us for slavery that has no end ? A young wife is 
brought in upon us, who is permitted to abuse us and our 
children, because we are no longer regarded. Can human 
nature endure such tyranny ? What kindness can we show 
to our female children equal to that of relieving them from 
such oppression, more bitter a thousand times than death ? 
I say again, would to God my mother had put me under 
ground the moment I was born." (14) 

8. They are held in the most degrading subjection to their 
husbands. From what has already been said, who can 
doubt that the Mussulman female, immured in the harem, 
must acquiesce in the will of her master ? Especially 
when we recollect that the precepts of the Koran direct the 
husband to chastise his wife for any disobedience to his 
commands. 

In Hindostan, women are required, not only by the 
enactment of legislators, but by the still more binding pre- 
cepts of the Pagan religion, to submit to the most degrading 
bondage. The Padma Purana, a book regarded with 
greater reverence and more strictly obeyed by many a 
deluded Hindoo than the word of the everlasting God by 
multitudes of nominal Christians, speaks thus : " When in 



10 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

the presence of her husband, a woman must keep her eyes 
upon her master, and be ready to receive his commands. 
When he speaks, she must be quiet, and listen to nothing 
besides. When he calls, she must leave every thing else 
and attend upon him alone. A woman has no other god 
on earth than her husband. The most excellent of all good 
works she can perform, is to gratify him with the strictest 
obedience. This should be her only devotion. Though 
he be aged, infirm, dissipated, a drunkard, or a debauchee, 
she must still regard him as her god. She must serve him 
with all her might, obeying him in all things, spying no 
defects in his character, and giving him no cause for dis- 
quiet. If he laughs, she must also laugh. If he weeps, 
she must also weep. If he sings, she must be in an ecstasy. 
She must never eat till her husband is satisfied. If he 
abstains, she must surely fast ; and she must abstain from 
whatever food her husband dislikes. When he goes abroad, 
if he bids her go with him, she must follow ; if he bids her 
stay, she must go nowhere during his absence. Until he 
returns, she must not bathe, clean her teeth, pare her nails, 
nor eat more than once a day." (10) By such impious and 
barbarous precepts the Hindoo husband is governed in the 
treatment of his wife. He never speaks her name, if he 
adheres strictly to his religion, but calls her " my servant," 
or "my dog." Nor may the wife speak the name of her 
husband, but must call him " my lord," or "the master of 
the house." Liable to chastisement from her husband, she 
deems that a happy day in which she escapes his cruel 
scourge. (1) A native convert to Christianity, speaking 
of the effect of the Gospel upon his conduct, stated, as the 
most decisive evidence of his conversion, that he had en- 
tirely ceased to beat his wife. 

In Burmah, the wife and grown daughters are consid- 
ered, by the husband and father, as much the subjects of 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 11 

discipline as the younger children. Hence it is not uncom- 
mon for females of every age and rank to suffer under the 
tyrannical rod of those who should be their kind protectors 
and affectionate companions. (15) 

9. Their lives are Jiot valued. In Greenland it is cus- 
tomary to bury aged helpless females alive. An Arab, in 
the north of Africa, asked his wife for his knife. She re- 
plied that she had lent it to a neighbor. " Do you not know," 
said he, " that you have no business to meddle with any thing 
belonging to me ?" She acknowledged she had not, con- 
fessed her fault, expressed her sorrow, and offered to go im- 
mediately and bring it back. He replied, " I will see if I 
can't have a wife who will obey my commands better. I 
always told you not to meddle with any thing of mine." 
Then levelling her to the ground with one stroke of his 
club, he repeated his blows till she ceased to breathe. Nei- 
ther man nor woman went near them, though her cries 
were heard through the whole tribe. In the evening the 
neighboring women dug a grave scarcely of the size of her 
body, into which they laid the naked corpse sideways, trode 
it down with their feet till it was level with the surface of 
the earth, and covered it with a heap of stones. The only 
notice taken of this inhuman deed was, that the council of 
the tribe fined the murderer four sheep, which he was re- 
quired to cook for their supper. He paid the fine, and in 
two weeks married again. (16) 

Col. Phipps, whose name has been already mentioned, 
says, " The rich and powerful in Hindostan not unfre- 
quently punish the females of their families by causing 
them to be sewed up in a sack and thrown by night into a 
river or well. I have seen a rich Hindoo who was known 
to have destroyed several women in this manner. When 
the magistrate attempted to bring the wealthy culprit to 
punishment, he found that the very parents and kindred of 



12 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

the victims had been bribed to depose, in a court of justice, 
that they had died a natural death. I have seen taken out 
of large wells several human skeletons, the remains of mur- 
dered heathen females ; and I wish it to be distinctly under- 
stood, that what I relate are facts which have come under 
my own personal observation." (6) 

Such is the state of woman in unenlightened countries. 
Degraded in her condition, exposed to continual persecution 
and insult, deprived of all that is delightful in domestic or 
social life, denied the blessings of education, excluded from 
the knowledge of God and the hopes of heaven ; she is, in 
short, treated as a soulless being, whose highest aim should 
be to gratify the caprice and obey the commands of haughty 
and unfeeling man. But where, in all the Pagan and Mo- 
hammedan world, where, among the six hundred millions 
of our race to whom the Bible is unknown, is woman the 
companion of man ? Where, the happy wife of the affec- 
tionate husband ? Where, the honored mother of grateful 
children ? Ask the islands of the sea, or the distant East. 
They cannot tell. Ask the native female of America. 
You have heard her mourn her unhappy fate. Ask the 
daughter of abused Africa. Her dying shrieks have told 
her tale of woe. She is everywhere despised, neglected, 
afflicted, oppressed. 

II. Their Character. 

1. They are destitute of female delicacy. In many hea- 
then countries, females, as if it were not enough to be des- 
titute of those qualities of mind and heart which are the 
peculiar glory of their sex, disfigure their persons in such 
a manner as to destroy their native beauty and grace. 
They seem not only incapable of distinguishing between 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 13 

beauty and deformity, but also to have lost all sense of 
female propriety. Proofs of this are given in the writings 
of almost every traveller who has observed their customs. 
Among the multitude which might be adduced, let one or 
two suffice. 

At the Society Islands it was formerly customary for 
every female to provide herself, immediately after marriage, 
with an instrument set with rows of shark's teeth, with 
which, upon the death of any of the family, they cut and 
mangled themselves in a most horrible manner ; striking 
the head, temples, cheeks, and breast, till the blood flowed 
profusely, at the same time uttering the most deafening and 
agonizing cries. This was their mode of expressing in- 
tense joy, as well as grief. Nor were their amusements 
more becoming the female character. One was wrestling, 
in which females, even of the highest rank, engaged, in the 
presence o^ thousands of spectators of both sexes, not only 
with one another, but also with men. (4) 

Who can, without disgust, describe the intolerable 
filthiness of their dwellings and food, and their want of 
personal clecuiliness ? (17, 20) 

2. They are superstitious. Is not this a natural conse- 
quence of ignorance ? In Hindostan it is not uncommon to 
see females measuring the distance from temple to temple 
by falling prostrate every six feet, suspending themselves by 
hooks through the muscular parts of the back, and in a 
thousand ways tormenting themselves to obtain the favor of 
their gods. " As I was walking out, on a certain occasion," 
says an American missionary, " I saw two women in the 
middle of the road, rolling through the mud, which was 
then about a foot deep. Upon my approaching them and 
inquiring their object, they replied, ' We were sick, and 
vowed to our god that, if he would make us well, we would 
roll to his temple. After expostulating with them soma 



14 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

time, I was obliged to leave them, sick and weak as they 
were, to their infatuation, just at night, with three-fourths 
of their journey still before them, and with a strong proba- 
bility of their perishing before the night should be far ad- 
vanced. Proceeding a few steps, I met a Brahmin, and 
pointing to the scene, expostulated with him for keeping 
the females in such ignorance and in the practice of 
such superstitions, appealing to his conscience that he 
knew better. He coldly replied, * Ah, let them alone, let 
them alone ; that's worship just suited to their capaci- 
ties.' " (1) 

Their superstition and ignorance render them the dupes 
of the most detestable and wicked impositions from the im- 
pious Brahmins. Among them, as among the ancient 
Israelites, barrenness is regarded as a calamity, and deliv- 
erance from it is often the subject of prayer to their gods ; 
some of whom are believed to have power to remove it. 
Applicants are told to remain in the temple during the 
night, performing their devotions ; and, if their worship is 
accepted, they will be visited by the god. They return 
home without the least suspicion of the horrid deception 
practised upon them by the Brahmins, supposing they have 
had intercourse with the deity of the temple. At other 
temples the same boon is promised on conditions still more 
degrading and mojisirous. These present, during the fes- 
tival months, one vast scene of impurity and wicked- 
ness. (10) 

3. They are generally guilty of transgressing the sev- 
enth commandment. It is needless to dwell upon this topic. 
To assert the truth is scarcely tolerable to a mind of deli- 
cacy and refinement. Yet listen for a moment to what 
candid men have said upon the subject. " It is a fact," 
says Rev. Mr. Ward, " which perplexes many of the well- 
informed Hindoos, that, notwithstanding the wives of Euro- 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 15 

peans are seen in so many mixed companies, they remain 
chaste ; while their wives, though continually secluded, 
watched, and veiled, are notoriously corrupt. I recollect 
the observation of a gentleman who had resided twenty 
years in Bengal, and whose opinion on such a subject is 
entitled to the highest regard — that ' the infidelity of Hindoo 
women was so great that he scarcely thought there was an 
individual among them who had always been faithful to her 
husband.' A Brahmin, who would be far from disparaging 
his country, affirmed that ' he did not believe there was a 
single female in the large cities of Bengal who had not 
violated the laws of chastity.' " 

But, in violating the laws of morality, do they not 
act in perfect obedience to the dictates of their religion ? 
Many of the gods of India are gods of impurity. Their 
temples are brothels ; their worship, unbounded licentious- 
ness. 

In consequence of their being married in childhood, 
thousands of Hindoo females are left in widowhood at an 
early age. Both law and public opinion take from them all 
means of supporting themselves in respectability. Driven 
to desperation by the miseries that overwhelmed them, hun- 
dreds have heretofore thrown themselves upon the funeral 
piles of their deceased husbands. The fate of the surviving 
widow is often worse than death. She can never marry, 
although her husband may have died when she was a mere 
child ; but must remain in cruel bondage to her sons, or her 
husband's relations. Many, rather than endure the obloquy 
and servitude of widowhood among their friends, resort to 
the only means in their power of procuring support, and 
obtain a miserable subsistence by prostitution. Among 
these blinded, degraded beings, this mode of life is honorable, 
compared with widowhood ; and widows generally give 
themselves up to it, in order to avoid disgrace ! (1) 



16 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

4. Tliey are ^^ without natural affection.^^ "The very 
periods," says a well-known missionary, " when the infant 
of the Christian mother is to her an object of intense solici- 
tude and of the deepest anxiety — times of sickness and dis- 
tress — are those when the heathen mother feels that in 
her child she has a care and trouble which she will not 
endure. She stifles its cries for a moment with her hand, 
hurries it into a grave already prepared, and tramples to a 
level the earth under which the offspring of her bosom is 
struggling in the agonies of death." (17) 

At the Society Islands, two thirds of the children were 
murdered in infancy. Some mothers had thus consigned 
to the grave five, six, eight, or even more of their offspring. 
*' I do not recollect," says Rev. Mr. Ellis, " meeting with a 
female in the islands, during the whole of my residence 
there, who had been a mother while idolatry prevailed, and 
had not imbrued her hands in the blood of her offspring." 
A similar statement is made by another missionary, who 
had spent thirty years on the islands. (4) 

In India, frequent transgressions of the sixth command- 
ment result from the disregard of the seventh. Mothers 
add to the sins already mentioned, that of destroying in the 
bud the fruit of their crimes. Not only the numerous 
widows in that country, but wives also, procure abortion. 
Some are accustomed to do it annually. " The Pundit," 
[teacher,] says Mr. Ward, " who gave me this information, 
supposes that ten thousand infants are thus murdered in the 
province of Bengal every month ; appealing, in support of 
his opinion, to the fact that many females are tried for these 
offences in the courts of justice in every zillah of Bengal, 
and that it was so common an event that every child knew 
it." Infants are also destroyed by offering them to the 
Ganges, burying them alive, suspending them in baskets on 
trees, to be devoured by ants and birds of prey ; or expos« 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 17 

ing them to be torn in pieces by crocodiles, jackals, and 
tigers. 

In China this practice is scarcely less common. In the 
city of Pekin, so great is the number of infants exposed by 
their unnatural mothers, that a person is employed by 
government to go through the streets every morning with a 
cart and gather up the children thus exposed, and cast 
them, the living and the dead without distinction, into a 
large pit appropriated to this purpose. 

Such is a faint outline of the condition and character 
of the females in the countries unenlightened by the Gos- 
pel. 

Reader, pause for a moment ! Behold three hundred 
millions of your fellow-beings, formed by their Creator to 
constitute the fairest and loveliest portion of the human 
race, thus despised, oppressed, and sunk in ignorance and 
pollution ! If there dwells in your breast the generous 
spirit of philanthropy, you cannot but inquire, " What can 
be done for their relief?" The sickly sentimentalist may 
turn away from this scene with disgust, the careless world- 
ling may pass by with indifference ; but no one whose 
heart glows with Christian benevolence, can sit down with- 
out an effort to relieve their wretchedness. What then must 
be done ? What, to rescue pagan woman from her bondage ? 
What, to light up in her soul the consciousness that she 
possesses an immortal mind ? What, to free her from the 
bondage of tyranny and superstition, to purify her soul, and 
to inspire in her bosom the hopes and the joys of heaven ? 
All past experience, the history of the world, in every age 
and nation, gives but one answer. There is but one sun 
whose rays can penetrate the darkness that envelopes these 
unhappy beings, and pour the light of life into their be- 
nighted souls — it is the Sun of Righteousness. In vain do 



18 CONDITION AND CHARACTER 

you -look to literature, to science and the arts, as an adequate 
remedy. The females of ancient Greece and Rome were 
as degraded and as wretched as the females of Turkey and 
Hindostan ; heathenism is essentially the same in every age 
and in every nation. But wherever the Gospel is made 
known and its sacred influence diff'used, it has rescued 
woman from her degradation, and elevated her to her 
proper rank and standing in society. Mark upon the map 
of the world those countries where the Gospel is known 
and understood, and you mark at the same time the only 
nations where the rights of woman are understood and 
regarded. 

To be convinced that the Gospel still affords an effectual 
remedy for all the miseries of the suffering female, you 
have only to look at the various missionary stations of the 
present day. What was the condition and the character 
of the female in the Society and Sandwich Islands but a 
few years ago ? Ignorance, impurity, and infanticide were 
their characteristics. But what has the Gospel done ? 

Tahiti, one of the Society Islands, affords an answer. 
" The commencement of the year 1815 was distinguished 
in the annals of this island," says Rev. Mr. Ellis, " by 
changes in society affecting the intellectual, religious, and 
domestic character of its inhabitants generally, but especially 
of the females. The withering influence of idolatry began 
to decline and give way to the humanizing, elevating power 
of Christianity. The food was no longer regarded as sacred, 
nor the fires as hallowed. In sickness and distress, the 
mother, the wife, the sister, the daughter, were no longer 
neglected. The social circle, the family board, the domes- 
tic altar, began to diffuse their life-giving joys. Instead 
of cruelty and contempt, the utmost tenderness is now 
manifested by the husband and father towards his wife and 
children. When the family carry their produce to trade with 



OF HEATHEN FEMALES. 19 

vessels, the first choice among articles purchased is given 
to the children, the next to the wife, and the husband takes 
for his portion whatever may remain. The female now 
enjoys the pleasure resulting from culture of mind, ability 
to read the sacred Scriptures, and write her native language. 
Having become a proficient in needle-work, she has laid 
aside the native dress, consisting merely of a piece of cloth 
loosely thrown about the waist, and adopted the European 
style. Barbarous and masculine amusements are exchanged 
for visits of mercy to the sick and dying. The cruel man- 
gling, dishevelled hair, and savage yell, are superseded by 
the solemn prayer and the funeral procession. The mild 
influence of Christianity has effected the entire abolition of 
infanticide, and revived the parental affection and tender- 
ness originally implanted in the human bosom. The moth- 
er, formerly guilty of destroying her helpless offspring, 
may now be seen coming into the place of public worship 
with her little babe in her arms, gazing with evident ten- 
derness upon its smiling countenance, or reading the word 
of God, and kneeling in prayer with those children who, 
but for the Gospel, would have been ushered into eternity 
ere their playful smiles had won the affections of the par- 
ent's heart." (4) 

Christian female, compare your situation and prospects 
with those of your sex in pagan lands, and then say, what 
has the Gospel done for you ! Every thing in life, in death, 
and in eternity, that can inspire you with the love of exist- 
ence, you derive from the Gospel. To you then, in a 
special manner, is it "glad tidings of great joy." Your 
pagan sister appeals to you ; she points to her ignorance, 
her superstition and wickedness ; she entreats you to behold 
her degraded condition in this life, and her hopeless prospect 
in the life to come ! She pleads with you, by these thrilling 
motives, for the light you enjoy ; she appeals to your sym- 



20 CONDITION AND CHARACTER, ETC. 

pathy, your charity, your benevolence ; she urges upon 
you the question, upon the decision of which her all depends 
— Will you give me the Gospel ? 



[Authorities. — 1. Rev. Mr. Bardwell. — 2. Sir R. K. Porter. — 3. 
Rev. Mr. Ward. — 4. Rev. Mr. Ellis.— 5. Shobert. — 6. Lond. Miss. 
Register.— 7. Rev. Dr. Clarke. — 8. Edin. Encycl.— 9. Rev. Dr. Bu- 
chanan. — 10. Abbe Dubois. — 11. Lady Montague. — 12. Mr. Wood. 
— 13. Sir G. Staunton. — 14. Cecil's Miss. Sermon. — 15. Mrs. Jud- 
son.— 16. Capt. Paddoch.— 17. Rev. Mr. Stewart.— 18. Rev. Dr. 
Ryan. — 19. Barrows. — 20. Lewis and Clark.] 



THE END. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETr. 



IVo. 14. 

PEACE TO THE TROUBLED. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



ASCRIBED TO REV. JOHN GRIFFIN, PORTSEA, ENGLAND. 



Calling at a small cottaire about five miles from 



I found a poor woman, with four children, with whom the 
following conversation took place : 

" Good woman," said f, " your house, I observe, is sadly 
out of repair : I wonder how you do in the winter season ; 
surely you must be very uncomfortable ?" " It is but a 
poor place, indeed, sir," she replied, " but it is a mercy that 
it is no worse. It is better than we deserve ; and we are 
under the same kind Providence in the winter as in the 
summer." This unexpected reply led me to desire a far- 
ther conversation on the subject of religion. " I suppose 
you attend on public worship ?" " I hope, sir, we make 
conscience of worshipping God on the Sabbath and on other 
days." "I hope you do; but will you allow me to ask, 
What is it that inclines you to a practice which so many 
neglect ?" " I will tell you, sir. About four years ago I 
was visited with a heavy and dangerous affliction ; and 
being apprehensive that, if I died, I should perish for ever, 
I became very unhappy. 1 had such a sense of sin, and 
such apprehensions of the. wrath of God, that I was a terror 
to myself and to those about me. As my affliction increased, 
and the danger became more apparent, I was increasingly 
wretched. Conceiving myself to be approaching the brink 
of hell, I cried to the Lord to have mercy on my poor soul, 
though I could scarcely entertain any hope of obtaining it. 
But it was my last and only resort. My husband and 
neighbors could not understand my case. I was to them 
an object of wonder and pity. My fever increased, and I 
was thought to be at the point of death. Several of my poor 
neighbors were about me, expecting every breath to be the 
last. 'She is just going,' said one of them. I could not 
speak, but was perfectly sensible, and heard those words ; 
at which I thought, ' If I am going, I am going to hell.' It 
pleased God, however, to spare me ; and I hope it was in 
VOL. I. 9 



2 PEACE TO THE TROUBLED. 

mercy. From this time the fever abated, and I gradually 
recovered. But my distress of mind did not abate. I con- 
sidered that though God had spared me a little while, I was 
still the same vile and guilty creature. I tried to pray, but 
could find no relief. 

" I went to the minister of the parish, and told him the 
exercises of my mind from the beginning. He appeared 
to be much surprised, and said he supposed I must have 
been guilty of some great wickedness ; and asked me what 
it was. I told him that I did not understand him. ' Why,' 
said he, ' you must have committed theft or drunkenness, 
or fraud, or been unfaithful to your husband, or done some 
other great sin.' ' No, sir,' said I, ' I desire to be thankful 
to God, I have been kept from all these outward evils ; but 
do you not understand my meaning, sir ?. I am a vile sin- 
ner m the sight of God ; my heart is full of evil. Every- 
thing I do is sinful. I am a ruined and undone creature. 
I fear that I am going to hell ; and the thoughts of these 
things are terrible beyond what I can express.' ' O, poor 
woman,' replied he, ' you must not give way to such 
thoughts as these ; you will go out of your mind. I would 
advise you to go into cheerful company ; and, if you can 
read, get some diverting books ; and by degrees you will 
get the better of these gloomy apprehensions.' 

" ' O, sir,' said I, ' I cannot think your advice is right. 
Surely this would be adding sin to sin ; it would be acting 
contrary to my conscience, and therefore would increase 
the weight of my distress, instead of removing it.' He then 
advised me to come to the sacrament, live in peace and 
charity with my neighbors, and said I should be happy. 
Accordingly I took the sacrament repeatedly, but found no 
relief. The preaching too was unsuitable to my case ; I 
wanted something to relieve my mind, but knew not what 
would do it. 

"One Sabbath my husband and I, having been at pub- 
lic worship in the forenoon, (there being no service in the 
afternoon,) I persuaded him to go and hear a Mr. T., who 
preached about four miles distant. My eyes followed him 
as he entered the house and ascended the pulpit ; but O, 
how 1 was affected during his prayer ! He was so full in 
the confession of sin, particularly of heart sins ; and so 
earnest in his petitions for mercv to poor sinners, pleading 



PEACE TO THE TROUBLED. 3 

the merits and mediation of Christ as the only ground of 
hope. He prayed out my very soul ! Never did T feel 
before as I did then. My expectations were raised to a 
high pitch. When he took his text I was all attention. It 
was the former part of the parable of the sower. He began 
by describing those hearers that are compared to the way- 
side. The ground was hard, and did not receive the seed ; 
and partly through ignorance, inattention, and the influence 
of Satan on the mind, no good was produced. Next he 
spoke of the stony-ground hearers. On these, he observed, 
some effect was produced ; but it was of short duration, and 
at last came to nothing. Then he came to speak of world- 
ly-minded hearers, who also brought no fruit to perfection. 
I followed him all through his sermon ; but it was an awful 
one to me. I thought it all belonged to me. I went home 
with my mind more burdened than before. I saw that I 
was everything that was vile and abominable ; and could 
not help crying out, ' Wo is me, for I am undone.' 

" There was one thought which afforded me some relief. 
I had, till now, considered my case as singular ; for I had 
never met with any person who had the same views and 
feelings with myself; but now I perceived there was a per- 
son who understood the state of my mind. I reflected on 
the prayer, and on the sermon ; and my mind was filled 
with thought. Understanding that Mr. T. meant to preach 
upon the latter part of the parable the next Sabbath, I longed 
for its return all the week, that I might hear it through ; 
hoping also that he might be directed to say something which 
would afford relief to my soul. Well, the Sabbath returned, 
and a delightful one it was to me! I was again greatly 
impressed and aflfected with the prayer ; and when the min- 
ister described the good ground, he showed that it was 
originally all wild and barren ; but that it was made good 
by the influence of divine grace. It was broken up by 
convictions of sin, which, entering deeply into the soul of 
the sinner, caused him to see the exceeding sinfulness of 
sin, and to feel the plague of his own heart. Thus the 
spirit was made tender, and the mind teachable and prepared 
for the reception of the Gospel. Then he opened up the 
great truths of salvation through Jesus Christ, and directed 
the hearers to him as the only Saviour from sin and the 
curse of the law to which they were exposed. He showed 



4 PEACE TO THE TROUBLED. 

that pardon of sin, peace with God, justification and sancti- 
ficalion, all came freely to the chief of sinners, through the 
atonement and righteousness of Christ ; and that these, being 
applied by the Spirit of God, were made effectual to their 
conversion ; were productive of good fruit in the present 
life, and, in the life to come, of everlasting joy. 

" I rejoiced that it was so. It was just such a salvation 
as I needed. My heart was filled with comfort ; I was led 
to see the way of escape ; a foundation was laid for my 
hope to rest upon ; I returned home with joy ; and could 
now attend to my family affairs with cheerfulness. From 
this time I attended constantly at the same place, and that 
with great delight ; every Sabbath was a feast-day to me ; 
and I have this additional comfort, that my husband also 
attends constantly and cheerfully with me ; and I trust that 
he is also converted to Christ. B[e now prays in his family, 
and we never lived so happily as we do now." 

"I assure you," said I, "that your story is not a little 
interesting to me, and I hope you will serve the Lord faith- 
fully." " I hope so," said she ; " surely I can say from 
experience, Vhat ' wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, 
and all her paths are peace.'" 

" Well, good woman, can you read ?" " Yes, sir, I can 
now read better than I could before." " And what good 
books have you got ?" *' I have but one, sir ; and that is 
the Testament." " Let me look at it, if you please." " Dear 
sir, I am ashamed to show it to you, it is such a tattered 
piece ; for before I knew the worth of it, I let my children 
play with it ; but now I take it to church with me, and 
when the minister mentions a text that is in it, I turn to it 
and read it." Handing me the book, she added, " There is 
all St. John in it, sir ; and there is delightful reading in St. 
John .'" " Yes, good woman, there is ; and I am glad that 
you have tasted the sweetness of it. Bless God that he has 
ever shown you the evil of your heart, and brought you to 
accept of Christ. Keep near the throne of grace. Train 
up your children in the fear of God, and may he be your 
eternal portion." 

Putting into her hand the means of buying a new Bible 
and Testament, I then took my leave, trusting that, if I saw 
her not again on earth, I should meet her, through grace, 
in a hotter world. 



No. 15. 

THE 



DO¥I¥ARD COURSE OF SII. 



BY REV, ANDREW PULLER. 



When our Saviour spake of his making men free, the 
Jews were offended. It hurt their pride to be represented 
as slaves ; yet slaves they were — and such is every sinner, 
however insensible of it, till Christ has made him free. 
And the longer he continues in this state, the more he is 
entangled, and the greater is the difficulty of making his 
escape. Sin is a master that will not suffer its slaves to rest, 
but is always hurrying them on from one thing to another, 
till, having finished its operations, it bringeth forth death. 
The way of sin is a way in which there is no standing still : 
it is a down-hill road, in which every step gives an accel- 
erated force, till you reach the bottom. Such is the import 
of those emphatic words of the apostle, "Ye were^ servants 
to iniquity, unto iniquity." 

To be a servant to iniquity is descriptive of the state of 
every unconverted sinner. All may not be subject to the 
same kind of sins. One may be enslaved to drunkenness, 
another to uncleanness, another to covetousness, another to 
fashion, and another to self-righteous pride. But these are 
only different forms of servitude, suited to different tempers 
and constitutions. All are servants to iniquity ; and all 
w^ho continue such, are impelled, in a manner, to go on in 
their work, " servants to iniquity, unto iniquity." The 
proofs of this tendency to progression, will appear in the 
following remarks. 

1. He that yields himself a servant to sin in any one of 
its forms, admits a principle which opens the door to sin in 
every other form. This principle is, that the authority of 



^ THE DOWNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 

God is not to be regarded, when it stands in the way of our 
inclinations. If you admit this principle, there is nothing 
to hinder you from going into any evil which your soul 
lusteth after. You may not indeed be guilty of every bad 
practice ; but, while such is the state of your mind, it is not 
the fear of God, but a regard to man, or a concern for your 
own interest, safety, or reputation, that restrains you. If 
you indulge in theft, for instance, you would, with the same 
unconcern, commit adultery, robbery, or murder, provided 
you were tempted to such things, and could commit them 
with the hope of escaping punishment. It is thus that he 
who transgresses the law " in one point, is guilty of all ;" 
for He that forbids one sin, forbids all ; and a deliberate 
offence against him, in one particular, is as really a rejec- 
tion of his authority as in many. 

Moreover, if the mind be unrestrained by the fear of 
God, a regard for man will have but a feeble hold for it. 
Sin, in various shapes, will be frequently indulged in secret ; 
and being so indulged, it will soon break out into open vices : 
for it is not in the power of a man, with all his contriv- 
anceSj long to conceal the ruling dispositions of his soul. 
When king Saul had once disregarded the divine authority, 
in his treatment of the Amalekites, there were no bounds to 
the evil workings of his mind ; full of jealousy, envy, and 
malignity, he murders a whole city of innocent men, re- 
pairs to a witch for counsel, and at last puts an end to his 
miserable life. 

2. Every sin we commit, goes to destroy the principle of 
resistance, and produce a kind of desperate carelessness. 
Purity of mind, like cleanliness of apparel, is accompanied 
with a desire of avoiding everything that might defile ; and 
even where this has no place, conscience, aided by education 
and example, is a great preservative against immoral and 
destructive courses ; but if we once plunge into the vices 
of the world, emulation is extinguished. The child that is 
accustomed to rags and filth, loses all shame, and feels no 
ambition to appear neat and decent. 

The first time a person yields to a particular temptation, 
it is not without some struggles of conscience ; and when it 
is past, his soul is usually smitten with remorse ; and, it 
may be, he thinks he shall never yield again ; but, tempta- 
tion returning, and the motive to resist being weakened, he 



THE DOWNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 3 

becomes an easy prey to the tempter. And now the clamors 
of conscience subside, his heart grows hard, and his mind 
desperate. "There is no hope," saith he; "I have loved 
strangers, and after them I will go." Under the first work- 
ings of temptation he sets bounds to himself. " Hitherto I 
will go, and no farther;" but now, all such resolutions are 
of no account. The insect entangled in the spider's web can 
do notliing ; every effort it makes only winds another thread 
round its wings ; and after a few ineffectual struggles, it 
falls a prey to the destroyer. 

3. Every sin we commit, not only goes to destroy the 
principle of resistance, but produces an increased desire for 
the repetition of it ; and thus, like half an army going over 
to the enemy, operates both ways against us, weakening 
our scruples and strengthening our propensities. This is 
manifest in such sins as drunkenness, gambling, and forni- 
cation. It is one of the deceits of sin, to promise that, if we 
will but grant its wishes in this or that particular, it will 
ask no more ; or to persuade its deluded votaries, that in- 
dulgence will assuage the torrent of desire ; but, though 
this may be the case for a short time, sin will return with 
redoubled violence. It rises in its demands from every 
concession you make to it. He that has entered the paths 
of the destroyer can tell, from experience, that it is a thou- 
sand times more difficult to recede, than to refrain from 
entering. The thirst of the leech at the vein, and of the 
drunkard at his bottle, is but a faint emblem of the burnings 
of desire in the mind, in these stages of depravity. 

4. If we yield to one sin, we shall find ourselves under 
a kind of necessity of going into oilier sins, in order to hide 
or excuse it. This is a truth so evident, that it needs only 
to be stated, in order to be admitted. Examples abound 
both in Scripture and common life. When sin is committed, 
the first thing that suggests itself to the sinner is, if possible, 
to conceal it ; or if that cannot be, to excuse it. Adaii) first 
strove to hide himself among the trees of the garden, and 
when this refuge failed him, he alleged it was " the woman," 
and the woman, too, " that God gave to be with him," who 
tempted him to do as he did. Nearly the same course was 
pursued by David. Having committed a grievous crime, 
he first betakes himself to intrigue, in hopes to cover it ; 
and when this fails him, he has recourse to murder ; and 



4 THE DOWNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 

this being accomplished, the horrible event is, with an air 
of affected resignation, ascribed to Providence : " The sword 
devoureth one as well as another." Nor is this the only- 
instance wherein that which has begun in a wanton look, 
has ended in blood. What numbers of innocent babes, the 
offspring of illicit intercourse, are murdered, and one or 
both of their unhappy parents executed, for that which was 
resorted to merely as a cover for their wicked practices ! 

5. Every act of sin tends to form a sinful habit; or, if 
already formed, to strengthen it. Single acts of sin are as 
drops of water, which possess but little force ; but, when 
multiplied, they become a mighty stream, which bears down 
all before it. The drunkard has no natural thirst for strong 
liquors. Some worldly trouble, or the love of loose com- 
pany, first brought him to make free with them ; but having 
once contracted the habit, though he knows he is every day- 
wasting his substance, shortening his life, and ruining his 
soul, yet he cannot desist. Even under the power of stu- 
pefaction, he calls for more drink : his dreams betray his 
lusts : " They have smitten me," says he, " and I was not 
sick ; they have beaten me, and I felt it not. When shall I 
awake ? I will seek it yet again." The gamester, at the 
first, thought but little of doing what he now does. He fell 
into company, it may be, with a card-party, or had heard 
of a lucky adventure in the lottery, or knew a person who 
had made a fortune by a successful speculation in the 
stocks ; so he resolves to try a little of it Inmself. He suc- 
ceeds. He tries again ; ventures deeper and deeper, with 
various success. His circumstances become embarrassed ; 
yet having begun, he must go on. One more great adven- 
ture, he hopes, will recover all, and free him from his diffi- 
culties. He loses; his family is ruinr d ; his creditors are 
wronged ; and himself, it is not impossible, is driven to such 
means of support as shall bring him to an untimely end. 
The debauchee was once, it may be, a sober man. His 
illicit connections might originate in what were thought, at 
the time, very innocent familiarities. But having once 
invaded the laws of chastity, he sets no bounds to desire : 
" His eyes are full of adultery, and he cannot cease 
from sin." 

6. When the sinner becomes thus besotted in the ways 
of sin, there are commonly a number of circumstances and 



THE DOWNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 5 

considerations, besides his own attachment to it, ichich entangle 
his soul, and, if injimte mercy interjjose not, prevent his es- 
cape. He has formed connections among men like himself. 
His interest, he thinks, will suffer. His companions will 
reproach him. The world will laugh at him. Many, in 
such circumstances, have been the subjects of strong con- 
victions, have shed many tears, and professed great desire to 
return from their evil courses ; yet, when it has come to the 
test, they have been too weak to recede ; having begun and 
gone on so far, they cannot relinquish it now, whatever be 
the consequence. 

Reader, is this, or something like it, your case 1 Permit 
a well-wisher to your soul to be free with you. Be assured, 
you must return, or perish forever, and that in a little time. 
Infidels may tell you there is no danger ; but when they 
come to die, they have commonly discovered that they did 
not believe their own assertions. " Verily there is a God 
that judgeth in the earth ;'' and before him you must shortly 
give an account. Will you plunge yourself into the pit 
whence there is no redemption ? That tremendous punish- 
ment is represented as not prepared originally for you, but 
for the devil and his angels. If you go thither, you in a 
manner take the kingdom of darkness by force. 

Let me add, it is not enough for you to return, unless, in 
so doing, you return to God. " Ye have returned, but not 
unto me," saith the Lord. If I felt only for your credit and 
comfort in this world, I might content myself with warning 
you to break off your outward vices, and cautioning you 
against the inlets of future evils. Animals, though void of 
reason, yet, through mere instinct, fly from present danger. 
"In vain is the net spread in the sight of a bird." The 
fish of the sea avoid the whirlpool. And shall a man go, 
with his eyes open, into the net ? Will he sail, uncon- 
cerned, into the vortex of destruction ? But it is not from 
present danger only, or chiefly, that I would warn you to 
flee. My heart's desire and prayer to God for you is, that 
you may be saved from the wrath to come. Know then, 
that, though you should escape the grosser immoralities 
of the world, yet you may be still in your sins, and exposed 
to eternal ruin. Your danger does not lie merely, or main- 
ly, in open vices. Satan may be cast out with respect to 



6 THE DOWNWAKD COURSE OF SIN. 

these, and yet retire into the strong holds of proud self- 
satisfaction. 

It is not the outward spot that will kill you ; but the in- 
ward disease, whence it proceeds. " From within, even 
from the heart, proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, 
fornications, thefts, and blasphemies." Every outbreaking 
of sin in your life is a proof of the inward corruption of 
your nature. If this fountain be not healed, in vain will 
you go about to purify the streams. I mean not to dissuade 
you from " breaking off your sins," but to persuade you to 
" break them off by righteousness." But the only way in 
which this is to be done, is that to which our Saviour di- 
rected in his preaching : " Repent, and believe the Gospel." 
All reformation, short of this, is only an exchange of vices. 
But if you can, guilty and unworthy as you are, renounc- 
ing all other hopes and dependencies, believe in Christ, you 
shall be saved. His blood was shed for sinners, even the 
chief of sinners. His obedience unto death was so well- 
pleasing to God, that any sinner, whatever has been his con- 
duct or character, that comes to him in his name, pleading 
his righteousness, and his only, will be accepted for his sake. 
He has not only obeyed and died for such as you, but is 
now at the right hand of God, carrying into effect the great 
ends of his incarnation, life, and death. " Wherefore he is 
able to save to the uttermost all them that come unto God 
by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them." 

If, reader, thou canst embrace this doctrine, it will heal 
thy malady. If, from thine heart, thou canst receive salva- 
tion as of mere grace, through the redemption of Jesus 
Christ, it is thine own. If thou canst confess thy sins upon 
the head of this sacrifice, " God is faithful and just to for- 
give thy sins, and to cleanse thee from all unrighteousness." 
God makes nothing of thy reformations, prayers, or tears, 
as a reason why he should accept and save thee ; but every- 
thing of what his Son has done and suffered. If thou canst 
be of his mind, making nothing of them in thy pleas and 
hopes lor mercy, but everything of Him in whom he is 
well-pleased, eternal life is before thee. And at what time 
this doctrine shall give peace to thy troubled soul, it shall 
purify thy heart in such a manner, that all thy former ways 
shall become hateful unto thee, and sobriety, righteousness, 
and godliness, shall be thv delight. 



THE DOWNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 7 

But if thy heart be still hardened in sin ; if Jesus, and 
salvation by grace through his name, contain nothing at- 
tractive, but rather what is offensive to thy mind ; know 
this, " there is no other name given under heaven among 
men, by which thou canst be saved ;" and the remembrance 
of thy having once in thy life, at least, been told the truth, 
may not a little imbitter thy dying moments. 

Happy are all they who, returning in the name of Jesus 
Christ to his Father and their Father, his God and their' 
God, are made free from sin, and have their fruit unto ho- 
liness ! Tliey too are progressive, but it is in a course the 
opposite of that which has been set before the reader. 
'^ The righteous shall hold on his way, and he that hath 
clean hands shall wax stronger and stronger." The ser- 
vice of God shall become more easy to him ; truth shall 
appear more evident ; the marks of his conversion shall 
multiply ; his character shall strike its roots deeper; the hope 
of his perseverance shall continually renew its strength ; 
and sorrow and joy, retirement and society, the dispensa- 
tions of Providence and the ordinary means of grace, shall 
all contribute to make him more meet for the " inheritance 
of the saints in light." 



REV. DR. WITHERSPOON HAS SUGGESTED THESE SEVERAL 
STEPS IN THE DOWNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 

1. Men enter and initiate themselves in a vicious prac- 
tice iy smaller sins. Heinous sins are too alarming for the 
conscience of a young sinner ; and therefore he only ven- 
tures upon such as are smaller, at first. Every particular 
kind of vice creeps in in this gradual manner. 

2. Having once begun in the ways of sin, he ventures 
upon something greater and more daring. His courage 
grows with his experience. Now, sins of a deeper die do 
not look so frightful as before. Custom makes everything 
familiar. No person who once breaks over the limits of a 
clear conscience, knows where he shall stop. 

3. Open sins soon throio a man into the hands of ungodly 
comjmnions. Open sins determine his character, and give 



8 THE DOWxNWARD COURSE OF SIN. 

him a place with the ungodly. He shuns the society of 
good men, because their presence is a restraint, and their 
example a reproof to him. There are none with whom he 
can associate, but the ungodly. 

4. In the next stage, the sinner leg'ins to feel the force of 
hahit and inveterate custom : he becomes rooted and settled 
in an evil way. Those who have been long habituated to 
any sin, how hopeless is their reform ! One single act of 
sin seems nothing ; but one after another imperceptibly 
strengthens the disposition, and enslaves the unhappy crim- 
inal beyond, the hope of recovery. 

5. The next stage in a sinner's course is, to lose the sense 
of shame, and sin boldly and openly. So long as shame re- 
mains, it is a great drawback. But it is an evidence of an 
uncommon height of impiety, when natural shame is gone. 

6. Another stage in the sinner's progress is, to harden 
himself so far as to sin without remorse of conscience. The 
frequent repetition of sins stupefies the conscience. They, 
as it were, weary it out, and drive it to despair. It ceases all 
its reproofs, and, like a frequently discouraged friend, suf- 
fers the infatuated sinner to take his course. And hence, 

7. Hardened sinners often come to boast and glory m 
their wickedness. It is something to be beyond shame ; but 
it is still more to glory in wickedness, and esteem it honor- 
able. Glorious ambition indeed ! 

. 8. Not content with being wicked themselves, they use 
all their arts and influence to make others wicked also. They 
are zealous in sinning, and industrious in the promotion 
of the infernal cause. They extinguish the fear of God 
in others, and laugh down their own conscientious scruples. 
And now, 

9. To close the scene, those who have thus far hardened 
themselves, are given up of God to judicial blindness of 
mind and hardness of heart. They are marked out as ves- 
sels of wrath fitted to destruction. This is the conse- 
quence of their obstinacy. They are devoted to the judg- 
ment they deserve. 

Reader ! view it with terror. 



I'UBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETT. 



]\o. 16. 

PIOUS RESOLUTIONS. 



[The following Resolutions were written by one who, there is reason 
to believe, had made great progress in the Christian life. They are 
commended to the serious and repeated perusal of every reader.] 

I WILL regard the favor and everlasting enjoyment of 
God, as the end of all my plans ; and study to make the 
consideration of them influence, as much as possible, the 
minutest actions of my life. 

I will regard the obedience, sacrifice, mediation, and 
intercession of Christ, as the only procuring cause of all 
those spiritual blessings which conduce to that end : as the 
pardon of sin, peace with God, and the sanctifying influ- 
ence of his Spirit. 

I will continually keep in mind my obligations to walk 
in Christ's steps, and to be holy as he is holy, without 
which I shall in vain hope to enter heaven ; and I will ever 
pray for the Spirit of God, in the belief that through his 
operation alone can this holy frame be produced. 

I will cultivate an habitual sense of God's presence, 
and of my accountableness to him ; of the shortness of 
time, and of my obligations to improve it. 

I will study for the future to appear well, not so much 
in the sight of man, as in that of God ; and to that end, 
will be particularly watchful against the love of human 
praise or distinction, and the fear of shame ; desisting from 
my purpose when I feel these to be my only motives, and 
endeavoring by prayer to overcome them when I perceive 
them to mix with such as are more pure. 

I will consider love to God and zeal for his glory as my 
hio;hest duties, and study to improve daily in these divine 
affections ; and I will judge of my progress in them, not 
by transient fervors of the mind, but by my habitual tem-- 
per, by my punctual performance of the self-denying 
duties of Christianity, by my cheerful acquiescence in all 
God's dispensations, and by the love, the humility, and 



2 PIOUS RESOLUTIONS. 

the meekness, which I am enabled to exercise to those 
around me. 

I will study to live a life of dependence on Christ, and 
of faith in his word ; making it the sole and exclusive 
measure of my belief and practice. 

I will pa7ticularly study to restrain all wanderings of 
the mind in the public and private exercises of God's wor- 
ship ; to banish, as much as I can, vain and worldly 
conversation, and vain and worldly thoughts from my mind 
and lips, on the Lord's day ; and to give all my household 
the time requisite for hallowing it, 

I w^ll guard against formality and vanity, especially in 
family worship ; and strive to fit myself, by previous re- 
flection and prayer, for its due performance. 

I will be particularly guarded against the intrusion of 
impure thoughts. I will turn away my eyes from behold- 
ing what might lead to them, shut my ears against polluting 
conversation, and restrain my tongue from every licentious 
word ; and I will carefully avoid every circumstance which 
I know to have formerly excited improper feelings, and 
forbid my thoughts to dwell for a moment on past scenes of 
sensual pleasure. 

I will watch against every rising of covetous desire, 
and while I carefully repress all tendency to improper ex- 
pense, or the careless profusion of any of God's gifts, I 
will seek out proper objects with whom to share those good 
things of which God has made me the steward, and of 
which he will require an account. 

I will no longer put off, or leave the business of the 
present day or hour to some future time, but will apply 
myself to it, deny the love of ease, and exercise a constant 
and self-denying attention to what is my proper work. 

1 will keep truth inviolate, in the smallest as well as in 
the greatest matters. 

I will in no case affect knowledge which I have not. 

I will read no book but with attention ; and I will read 
none which tends to inflame the mind, or to excite improper 
sentiments. I will be ready to communicate and also to 
receive knowledge ; and I will be open to conviction, ever 
receiving correction and reproof meekly and thankfully, 
never questioning merely for the sake of dispute, nor ever 
retorting upon any reprover. 



PIOUS RESOLUTIONS. 3 

I will watch against all superciliousness in look or man- 
ner, all sourness of mind in dispute, all impatience of con- 
tradiction in my "intercourse with all, whether common 
acquaintance, or the most intimate relative, as a wife, 
brother, &c. And I will listen with patience and kindness 
to the arguments and reasonings of others, however imper- 
tinent they may appear at the moment. 

I will also watch against a selfish, exclusive attachment 
to my own comfort, and study to be equally solicitous for the 
comfort of others, and to repress every rising of impatience 
at the trouble which this may occasion me. 

I will endeavor to cultivate a temper of more benignity 
towards all ; and I will attend more to the outward expres- 
sion of love and kindness, never allowing passion to dictate 
what I may say, but studying to do by others as I could 
reasonably wish to be dealt with. 

I will watch particularly against all hastiness of spirit 
towards inferiors, and especially those who need my help ; 
and will listen composedly to their representations, and 
render them all the justice and all the kindness in my 
power, consistently with my other duties. 

I will not only not use railing words to any, but I will 
guard against every circumstance, in look and manner, 
which might tend unnecessarily to wound the feelings of 
others. 

I will not allow the ill-conduct of others towards me to 
lessen my kindness and good- will to them. 

I will not chide or correct my children in passion, nor 
use peevish language towards them ; and previous to cor- 
recting them, I will use prayer to God ; and I will not be 
turned aside by false pity, or by indolence, from duly cor- 
recting their faults, which I will ever remind them to be 
sins against God. 

I will never use threatening language, but by way of 
prevention, and without any mixture of passion ; and I 
will study not to allow my voice to be elevated above its 
ordinary tone, in talking with any. 

I will guard against all excess in eating or drinking ; 
never allowing complaisance for any to mar for a moment 
the clear exercise of my reason, or discompose my quiet, by 
leading me beyond the bounds of strict moderation. 

I will, from this time forward, when not hindered by 



4 PIOUS RESOLUTIONS. 

unavoidable circumstances, regularly devote at least one 
half hour in the morning, and one half hour in the even- 
ing, exclusively to those concerns which lie between God 
and my soul. 

I will read every day in private a portion of Scripture, 
with meditation and prayer. 

I will consider the study of my heart as one main busi- 
ness of my life ; and I will enter every evening, if possible, 
into a serious review of the past day, and of the manner in 
which I have kept this engagement ; and into a solemn con- 
sideration of the fitness of my soul for entering on the 
eternal world. 

I will anxiously study to reform whatever I shall find 
amiss ; and of whatever defect in the performance of my 
duty I may be sensible, whatever corrupt propensity I may 
discover, of whatever sinful thoughts, words, or actions, I 
may have been guilty, I will endeavor to improve them as 
an incitement more deeply to repent of sin, more highly to 
value the love of my crucified Redeemer, and more impli- 
citly to rely on his atoning merits for pardon and accept- 
ance, and on the sanctifying grace of the Holy Spirit for 
victory over sin, and advancement in purity and holiness 
of heart and life. 

May the Spirit of all grace fill my heart with heavenly 
wisdom, and form me anew in my Saviour's image. May 
the bright example of Jesus Christ be ever before my 
eyes, and may his lessons be ever graven on my heart. 
Through his blood may my defiled and guilty conscience 
be cleansed from all sin. May he reign in my heart, and 
ever continue the object of my ardent desires, of my un- 
deviating reliance, of my cheerful homage, of my lively 
and active gratitude, and of my highest love. And may 
the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father 
of everlasting compassion, the God of grace and peace, 
sanctify me wholly ; and through the blood of the everlast- 
ing covenant make me perfect in every good work to do his 
will, that I may be enabled ever to render to the Father, 
Son, and Spirit, one God, the praise and glory of all I have, 
am, or hope for. Amen. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 

BY MRS. HAJS'N'AH MORE. 




HERE was once a certain 
gentleman, who had a house, 
or castle, situated in the 
midst of a great wilderness, 
but enclosed in a garden. 
Now, there was a band of 
robbers in the wilderness, 
who had a great mind to 
plunder and destroy the cas- 
tle ; but they had not succeeded in their endeavors, because 
the master had given strict orders to " watch without ceas^ 



^ PARLEY THE PORTER. 

ing.^' To quicken their vigilance, he used to tell them 
that their care would soon have an- end ; that though the 
nights they had to watch were dark and stormy, yet they 
were but few ; the period of resistance was short — that of 
rest, eternal. 

The robbers, however, attacked the castle in various 
ways. They tried at every avenue ', watched to take ad- 
vantage of every careless moment ; looked for an open 
door, or a neglected window. But though they often made 
the bolts shake, and the windows rattle, they could never 
greatly hurt the house, much less get, into it. Do you 
know the reason ? It was because the servants were never 
off their guard. They heard the noises plain enough, and 
used to be not a little frightened, for they were aware both 
of the strength and perseverance of the enemy. But what 
seemed rather odd to some of these servants — the gen- 
tleman used to tell them, that while they continued to 
be afraid, they would be safe ; and it passed into a sort 
of proverb in that family, " Happy is he that feareth 
always." Some of the servants, however, thought this a 
contradiction. 

One day when the master was going from home, he 
called his servants all together, and spoke to them as fol- 
lows : " I will not repeat to you the directions I have so 
often given you ; they are all written down in the book 
OF LAWS, of which every one of you has a copy. Re- 
member, it is a very short time that you are to remain in 
this castle ; you will soon remove to my more settled hab- 
itation, to a more durable house, not made with hands. 
As that house is never exposed to an attack, so it never 
stands in need of any repair ; for that country is never in- 
fested by any sons of violence. Here you are servants ; 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 3 

there you will be princes. But mark my words, and you 
will find the same truth in the book of my laws : Whether 
you will ever attain to that house, will depend on the man- 
ner in which you defend yourselves in tills. A stout vigi- 
lance for a short time, will secure you certain happiness 
for ever. But everything depends on your present exer- 
tions. Don't complain, and take advantage of my absence, 
and call me a hard master, and grumble that you are 
placed in the midst of a howling wilderness without peace 
or security. Say not, that you are exposed to temptations 
without power to resist them. You have some difficulties, 
it is true ; but you have many helps, and many comforts to 
make this house tolerable, even before you get to the other. 
Yours is not a hard service ; and if it were, ' the time is 
short.' You have arms, if you will use them ; and doors, 
if you will bar them ; and strength, if you will use it. I 
would defy all the attacks of the robbers without, if I could 
depend on the fidelity of the people within. If the thieves 
ever get in and destroy the house, it must be by the con- 
nivance of one of the family. For mere outivard attack 
can never destroy this castle, if there he no traitor within. 
You will stand or fall, as you regard this fact. If you are 
finally happy, it will be by my grace and favor ; if you 
are ruined, it will be your own fault." 

When the gentleman had done speaking, every servant 
repeated his assurance of attachment and firm allegiance 
to his master. But among them all, not one was so vehe- 
ment and loud in his professions as old Parley, the Porter. 
Parley, indeed, it was well known, was always talking, 
which exposed him to no small danger ; for as he was the 
foremost to promise, so he was the slackest to perform. 
And, to speak the truth, though he was a civil-spoken fel- 



4 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

low, his master was more afraid of him, with all his pro- 
fessions, than he was of the rest who professed less. He 
knew that Parley was vain, credulous, and self-sufficient ; 
and he always apprehended more danger from Parley's' 
impertinence, curiosity, and love of novelty, than even- 
from the stronger vices of some of his other servants. 
The rest, indeed, seldom got into any difficulty of which 
Parley was not the cause, in some shape or other. 

I am sorry to be obliged to confess, that though Parley 
was allowed every refreshment, and all the needful rest 
which the nature of his place permitted, yet he thought it 
very hard to be forced to be so constantly on duty. " No- 
thing but watching," said Parley ; "I have, to be sure, 
many pleasures, and meat sufficient, and plenty of chat in 
virtue of my office ; and I pick up a good deal of news of 
the comers and goers by day ; but it is hard that at night I 
must watch as narrowly as a house-dog, and yet let in no 
company without orders, only because there are said to be 
a few straggling rohhers here in the wilderness, with whom 
my master does not care to let us be acquainted. He pre- 
tends to make us vigilant through fear of the robbers ; but 
I suspect it is only to make us mope alone. A merry 
companion, and a mug of beer, would make the night pass 
cheerly." Parley, however, kept all these thoughts to 
himself, or uttered them only when no one heard ; for talk 
he must. He began to listen to the nightly whistling of 
the robbers under the windows, with rather less alarm than 
formerly ; and was sometimes so tired of watching, that he 
thought it was even better to run the risk of being robbed 
once, than to live always in fear of robbers. 

There were certain bounds in which the gentleman 
allowed his servants to walk and divert themselves at all 



PARLEY THE PORTER. O 

proper seasons. A pleasant garden surrounded the castle, 
and a thick hedge separated this garden from the wilder- 
ness which was infested by the robbers, in which they were 
permitted to amuse themselves. The master advised them 
always to keep within these bounds. " While you observe 
this rule," said he, " you will be safe, and well ; and you 
will consult your own safety, as well as show your love to 
me, by not venturing even to the extremity of your bounds. 
He who goes as far as he dares, always shows a wish to go 
farther than he ought, and commonly does so." 

It was remarkable, that the nearer these servants kept 
to the castle, and the farther from the hedge, the more ugly 
the wilderness appeared. And the nearer they approached 
the forbidden bounds, their own home appeared more dull, 
and the wilderness more delightful. And this the master, 
knew when he gave his orders ; for he never either did or 
said anything without a good reason. And when his ser- 
vants sometimes desired an explanation of the reason, he 
used to tell them they would understand it when they came 
to the other house ; for it was one of the pleasures of that 
house, that it would explain all the mysteries of this ; and 
any little obscurities in the master's conduct, would then 
be made quite plain. 

Parley was the first that promised to keep clear of the 
hedge ; and yet was often seen looking as near it as he 
dared. One day he ventured close up to the hedge, put 
two or three stones one on another, and tried to peep over. 
He saw one of the robbers strolling as near as could be 
on the forbidden side. This man's name was Flatter- 
well, a smooth, civil man, whose words were softer than 
butter, having war in his heart. He made several low 
bows to Parley. 



6 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

Now Parley knew so little of the world, that he ac- 
tually concluded all robbers must have an ugly look, which 
should frighten you at once ; and coarse, brutal manners, 
which would at first sight show they were enemies. He 
thought, like a poor ignorant fellow as he was, that this mild, 
specious person could not be one of the band. Flatterwell 
accosted Parley with the utmost civility, which put him 
quite off his guard ; for Parley had no notion that he could 
be an enemy, who was so soft and civil. For an open foe, 
he would have been prepared. Parley, however, after a 
little discourse, drew this conclusion, either that Mr. Flat- 
terwell could not be one of the gang, or that, if he was, 
the robbers themselves could not be such monsters as his 
master had described ; and therefore it was folly to be 
-afraid of them. 

Flatterwell began, like a true adept in his art, by lull- 
ing all Parley's suspicions asleep; and instead of openly 
abusing his master, which would have opened Parley's 
eyes at once, he pretended rather to commend him in a 
general way, as a person who meant well himself, but 
was too apt to suspect others. To this Parley assented. 
The other then ventured to hint by degrees, that though 
the gentleman might be a good master in the main, yet he 
must say he was a little strict, and a little stingy, and not a 
little censorious. That he was blamed by the gentlemen in. 
the wilderness for shutting his house against good company ; 
and his servants were laughed at by people of spirit, for 
submitting to the gloomy life of the castle, and the insipid 
pleasures of the garden, instead of ranging in the wilder- 
ness at large. 

" It is true enough," said Parley, who was generally 
of the opinion of the person he was talking with, "my 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 7 

master is rather harsh and close. But, to own the truth, 
all the barring, and locking, and bolting, is to keep out a 
set of gentlemen, who, he assures us, are robbers, and who 
are waiting for an opportunity to destroy us. I hope, no 
offence, sir, but by your livery, I suspect you, sir, are one 
of the gang he is so much afraid of." 

Flatterwell. Afraid of me 1 Impossible, dear Mr. Par- 
ley. You see I do not look like an enemy. I am unarm- 
ed : what harm can a plain man like me do ? 

Parley. Why, that is true enough. Yet my master 
says, that if we were once to let you into the house, we 
should be ruined, soul and body. 

Flatterwell. I am sorry, Mr. Parley, that so sensible a 
man as you are so deceived. This is mere prejudice. 
He knows we are a cheerful, entertaining people ; foes to 
gloom and superstition ; and therefore, he is so morose, he 
will not let you get acquainted with us. 

Parley. Well, he says you are a band of thieves, 
gamblers, murderers, drunkards, and atheists. 

Flatterwell. Don't believe him ; the worst we should 
do, perhaps, is, we might drink a friendly glass with you to 
your master's health ; or play an innocent game of cards 
just to keep you awake, or sing a cheerful song with the 
maids : now is there any harm in all this ? 

Parley. Not the least in the world. And I begin 
to think there is not a word of truth in all my master 
says. 

Flatterwell. The more you know us, the more you 
will like us. But I wish there was not this ugly hedge 
between us. I have a great deal to say, and am afraid of 
being overheard. 

Parley was now just gomg to give a spring over the 



8 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

hedge, but checked himself, saying, " I dare not come on 
your side, there are people about, and every thing is car- 
ried to my master." Flatterwell saw by this, that his 
new friend was kept on his own side of the hedge by fear, 
rather than by principle, and from that moment he made 
sure of him. 

"Dear Mr. Parley," said he, ^* if you will allow me 
the honor of a little conversation with you, I will call 
under the window of your lodge this evening. I have 
something to tell you greatly to your advantage. I admire 
you exceedingly. I long for your friendship ; our whole 
brotherhood is ambitious of being known to so amiable 
a person." 

" O dear," said Parley, " I shall be afraid of talk- 
ing to you at night, it is so against my master's orders. 
But did you say you had something to tell me to my ad- 
vantage ?" 

Flatterwell. Yes, I can point out to you how you may 
be a richer, a merrier, and a happier man. If you will 
admit me to-night under the window, I will convince you 
that 'tis prejudice and not wisdom which makes your mas- 
ter bar his door against us ; I will convince you that the 
mischief of a roller, as your master scurrilously calls us, 
is only in the name ; that we are your true friends, and 
only meah to promote your happiness. 

'' Don't say we," said Parley, " pray come alone, I 
would not see the rest of the gang for the world ; but I 
think there can be no great harm in talking to you through 
the bars, if you come alone ; but I am determined not to 
let you in. Yet I can't say but I wish to know what you 
can tell me so much to my advantage ; indeed, if it is for 
my good, I ought to know it." 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 9 

Flatterwell. {Going out, turns hack.) Dear Mr. Parley, 
there is one thing I had forgot. I cannot get over the 
hedge at night without assistance. You know there is a 
secret in the nature of that hedge ; you in the house may 
get over to us in the wilderness, of your own accord ; but 
we cannot get to your side by our own strength. You 
must look about to see where the hedge is thinnest, and 
then set to work to clear away here and there a little 
bough for me ; it wont be missed ; and if there is but the 
smallest hole made on your side, those on ours can get 
through ; otherwise we do but labor in vain. To this 
Parley made some objection, through the fear of being 
seen. Flatterwell replied, that the smallest hole from 
within would be sufficient, for he could then work his own 
way. " Well," said Parley, " I will consider of it. To 
be sure I shall even then be equally safe in the castle, as I 
shall have all the bolts, bars, and locks between us, so it 
will make but little difference." 

" Certainly not," said Flatterwell, who knew it would 
make all the difference in the world. So they parted, with 
mutual protestations of regard. Parley went home, charm- 
ed with his new friend. His eyes were now clearly opened 
as to his master's prejudices against the rollers ; and he 
was convinced there was more in the name, than in the 
thing. "But," said he, "though Mr. Flatterwell is cer- 
tainly an agreeable companion, he may not be so safe an 
inmate. There can, however, be no harm in talking at a 
distance, and I certainly wont let him in." 

Parley, in the course of the day, did not forget his 
promise to thin the hedge of separation a little. At first he 
only tore off a handful of leaves, then a little sprig, then 
he broke away a bough or two. It was observable, the 

VOL. I. 10 



10 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

larger the breach became, the worse he began to think of 
his master, and the better of himself. Every peep he 
took through the broken hedge, increased his desire to get 
out into the wilderness, and made the thoughts of the castle 
more irksome to him. 

He was continually repeating to himself, " I wonder 
what Mr. Flatterwell can have to say so much to my ad- 
vantage. I see he does not wish to hurt my master, he 
only wishes to serve me." As the hour of meeting, how- 
ever, drew near, the master's orders now and then came 
across Parley's thoughts. So to divert them, he took the 
BOOK. He happened to open it at these words, " My son, 
if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." For a moment 
his heart failed him. "If this admonition should be sent 
on purpose," said he, — " but no, 'tis a bugbear. My mas- 
ter told me that, if I went to the bounds, I should get over 
the hedge. Now, I went to the utmost limits, and did not 
get over." Here conscience put in, " Yes, but it was be- 
cause you were watched." " I am sure," continued Par- 
ley, " one may always stop where one will ; and this is 
only a trick of my master's to spoil sport ; so I will even 
hear what Mr. Flatterwell has to say so much to my ad- 
vantage. I am not obliged to follow his counsels, but there 
can be no harm in hearing them." 

Flatterwell prevailed on the rest of the robbers to make 
no public attack on the castle that night. 

" My brethren," said he, " you now and then fail in 
your schemes, because you are for violent beginnings, 
while my soothing, insinuating measures, hardly ever miss. 
You come blustering, and roaring, and frighten people, and 
set them on their guard. You inspire them with terror of 
you, while my whole scheme is, to make them think well of 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 11 

themselves, and ill of their master. If I once get them to 
entertain hard thoughts of him, and high thoughts of them- 
selves, my business is done, and they fall plump into my 
snares. So let this delicate affair alone to me. Parley is 
a softly fellow, he must not be frightened, but cajoled. He 
is the very sort of man to succeed with, and worth a hun- 
dred of your sturdy, sensible fellows. With them we 
want strong arguments, and strong temptations ; but with 
such fellows as Parley, in whom vanity and sensuality are 
the leading qualities, (as, let me tell you, is the case with 
far the greater part,) flattery, and the promise of ease and 
pleasure, will do more than your whole battle array. If 
you will let me manage, I will get you all into the castle 
before midnight." 

At night the castle was barricaded as usual, and no 
one had observed the hole which Parley had made in the 
hedge. This oversight arose that night from the servants 
neglecting one of the master's standing orders, — to make 
a nightly examination of the state of the castle. The neg- 
lect did not proceed so much from wilful disobedience, as 
from having passed the evening in sloth and diversion ; 
which often amounts to nearly the same. 

As all was very cheerful within, so all was very quiet 
without. And before they went to bed, some of the ser- 
vants observed to the rest, that, as they heard no robbers 
that night, they thought they might soon begin to remit 
something of their diligence in bolting, and barring ; that 
all this fastening and locking was very troublesome ; and 
they hoped the danger was now pretty well over. It was 
rather remarkable that they never made this sort of obser- 
vations but after an evening of some excess, and when 
they had neglected their private business with their master. 



12 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

All, however, except Parley, went quietly to bed, and 
seemed to feel uncommon security. 

Parley crept down to his lodge. He had half a mind to 
go to bed too ; yet he was not willing to disappoint Mr. 
Flatterwell, so civil a gentleman. To be sure, he might 
have bad designs, yet what right had he to suspect any- 
body who made such professions, and who was so very 
civil. Besides, " it is something for my advantage," added 
Parley. " I will not open the door, that is certain ; but as 
he is to come alone, he can do me no harm through the 
bars of the windows ; and he will think I am a coward, if 
I don't keep my word : no, I will let him see that I am not 
afraid of my own strength : I will show him I can go wliat 
length I please, and stop short when I please." Had Flat- 
terwell heard this boastful speech, he would have been 
quite sure of his man. 

About eleven. Parley heard the signal agreed upon. It 
was so gentle as to cause little alarm. So much the worse. 
Flatterwell never frightened any one, and therefore sel- 
dom failed of any one. Parley stole softly down, planted 
himself at his little window, opened the casement, and 
spied his new friend. It was pale star-light. Parley was 
a little frightened, for he thought he perceived one or two 
persons behind Flatterwell ; but the other assured him 
that it was only his own shadow, which his fears had 
magnified into a company. " Though I assure you," 
said he, " I have not a friend but what is as harmless as 
myself." 

They now entered into earnest discourse, in which 
Flatterwell showed himself a deep politician. He skilfully 
mixed up in his conversation a proper proportion of praise 
on the pleasures of the wilderness, of compliments to 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 13 

Parley, of ridicule on his master, and of abusive sneers 
on the BOOK in which the master's laws were written. 
Against this last he had always a particular spite, for he 
considered it as the grand instrument by which the master 
maintained his servants in allegiance ; and when they could 
once be brought to sneer at the book, there was an end of 
submission to the master. Parley had not penetration 
enough to see his drift. 

" As to THE BOOK, Mr. Flatterwell," said he, " I do 
not know whether it be true or false ; I rather neg- 
lect than disbelieve it. I am forced, indeed, to hear it 
read once a week, but I never look into it myself, if I can 
help it." 

" Excellent," said Flatterwell to himself, " that is just 
the same thing. This is safe ground for me ; for whether 
a man does not believe in the book, or does not attend to 
it, it comes pretty much to the same, and I generally get 
him at last." 

" Why cannot we be a little nearer, Mr. Parley ?" 
said Flatterwell ; " I am afraid of being overheard by 
some of your master's spies, the window from which 
you speak is so high ; I wish you would come down to 
the door." 

" Well," said Parley, " I see no great harm in that. 
There is a little wicket in the door, through which we can 
converse with more ease and equal safety. The same fast- 
enings will still be between us." 

So down he went, but not without a degree of fear 
and trembling. 

The little wicket being now opened, and Flatterwell 
standing close on the outside of the door, they conversed 
with great ease. 



14 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

" Mr. Parley," said Flatterwell, " I should not have 
pressed you so much to admit me into the castle, but out 
of pure disinterested regard to your own happiness. I 
shall get nothing by it, but I cannot bear to think that a 
person so wise and amiable should be shut up in this 
gloomy dungeon, under a hard master, and a slave to the 
unreasonable tyranny of his book of laws. If you admit 
me, you need have no more waking, no more watching." 
Here Parley involuntarily slipped back the bolt of the 
door. " To convince you of my true love," continued 
Flatterwell, " I have brought a bottle of the most de- 
licious wine that grows in the wilderness. You shall 
taste it, but you must put a glass through the wicket 
to receive it ; for it is a singular property in this wine, 
that we of the wilderness cannot succeed in conveying 
it to you of the castle, without you hold out a vessel to 
receive it." 

" O, here is a glass," said Parley, holding out a large 
goblet, which he always kept ready to be filled by any 
chance comer. The other immediately poured into the 
capacious goblet a large draught of that delicious, intoxi- 
cating liquor, with which the family of the Flatterwells 
have, for near six thousand years, gained the hearts and 
destroyed the souls of all the inhabitants of the castle, 
whenever they have been able to prevail on them to hold 
out a hand to receive it. This the wise master of the 
castle well knew would be the case, for he knew what 
was in men ; he knew their propensity to receive the 
delicious poison of the Flatterwells, and it was for this 
reason that he gave them the book of his laws, " and 
planted the hedge, and invented the bolts, and doubled 
the locks. 



PARLEY THE PORTER. 15 

As soon as poor Parley had swallowed the fatal draught, 
it acted like enchantment. He at once lost all power of 
resistance. He had no sense of fear left. He despised 
his own safety, forgot his master, lost all sight of the 
house in the other country, and reached out for another 
draught, as eagerly as Flatterwell held out the bottle to 
administer it. 

" What a fool I have been," said Parley, " to deny 
myself so long." 

" Will you now let me in ?" said Flatterwell. 

" Ay, that I w_ill," said the deluded Parley. Though 
the train was now increased to near a hundred robbers, 
yet so intoxicated was Parley, that he did not see one 
of them except his new friend. Parley eagerly pulled 
down the bars, drew back the bolts, and forced open the 
locks, thinking he could never let in his friend soon enough. 
He had however just presence of mind to say, " My dear 
friend, I hope you are alone." 

Flatterwell swore he was. Parley opened the door — 
in rushed, not Flatterwell only, but the whole banditti, 
who always lurk behind in his train. The moment they 
had got sure possession, Flatterwell changed his soft tone, 
and cried out in a voice of thunder, " Down with the 
castle ; kill, burn, and destroy." 

Rapine, murder, and conflagration, by turns, took 
place. Parley was the very first whom they attacked. 
He was overpowered with wounds. As he fell, he cried 
out, " O, my master, I die a victim to my unbelief in thee, 
and to my own vanity and imprudence. O that the guar- 
dians of all other castles would hear me with my dying 
breath repeat my master's admonition, that attacks from 
without will not destroy, unless there is some confederate 



16 PARLEY THE PORTER. 

within. O that the keepers of all other castles would 
learn from my ruin, that he who parleys with tempta- 
tion, is already undone ; that he who allows himself to go 
to the very bounds, will soon jump over the hedge ; that he 
who talks out of the window with the enemy, will soon 
open the door to him ; that he who holds out his hand for 
the cup of sinful flattery, loses all power of resisting ; that 
when he opens the door to one sin, all the rest fly in upon 
him, and the man perishes, as I now do." 



Beware of Peter's word. 

Nor confidently say, 
" I never will deny the Lord," 

But, "grant I never may." 

Man's wisdom is to seek 

His strength in God alone ; 
And e'en an angel would be weak 

Who trusted in his own. 

Retreat beneath his wings. 

And in his grace confide ; 
This more exalts the King of kings 

Than all your works beside. 

In Jesus is our store ; 

Grace issues from his throne ; 
Whoever says, " I want no more," 

Confesses he has none. cowper. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 18, 

FAMILY WORSHIP. 

BY PHILIP DODDRIDGE, D. D. 




This address may come into the hands of many who 
have long been exemplary for their diligence and zeal in 
the duties I am about to recommend. Such, I hope, will 
be confirmed, by what they read, in pursuing the good reso- 
lutions they have taken, and the good customs they have 
formed ; and will also be excited more earnestly to endeavor 
to contribute towards introducing the like into other families 
over which they have any influence, and especially into 
those which may branch out from their own by the settle- 
ment of children and servants. 

But I have those principally in view who have hitherto 
lived in the omission of family prayer. 



VOL. I. 



10* 



2 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

While I write this I have that awakening Scripture be- 
fore me : " Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know 
thee not, and upon the famiUes thai call not upon thy name." 
Jer. 10 : 25. I appeal to you whether this does not strongly 
imply that every family which is not a heathen family, 
which is not quite ignorant of the living and true God, will 
call upon his name. Well may it then pain my heart, to 
think that there should be a professedly Christian family 
whom this dreadful character suits ; well may it pain my 
heart, to think of the divine fury which may be poured 
out on the heads and on the members of it ; and well may 
it make me desirous to do my utmost to secure you and 
yours from every appearance and possibility of such dan- 
ger. Excuse the earnestness with which I may address 
you. I really fear, lest, while you delay, the fire of the 
divine displeasure should fall upon you. Gen. 19 : 17, 17. 
And as I adore the patience of God in having thus long 
suspended the storm, I am anxious about every hour's de- 
lay, lest it should fall heavier. 

What I desire and entreat of you is, that you would 
honor and acknowledge God in your families, by calling 
them together, every day, to hear some part of his word 
read to them, and to join, for a few minutes at least, in your 
confessions, prayers, and praises to him. And is this a 
cause that should need to be pleaded at large by a great 
variety of united motives 1 Truly the petition seems so 
reasonable, and a compliance with it, from one who has not 
quite renounced religion, might seem so natural, that one 
would think the bare proposing of it would suffice. Yet 
experience tells us, it is much otherwise. Some, who 
maintain a public profession of religion, have refused, and 
will continue to refuse, year after year. 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 



Reflect, sir, (for I address myself to every particular 
person,) seriously reflect on the reasonableness of family 
religion. Must not your conscience presently tell you, it 
is fit that persons who receive so many mercies together, 
should acknowledge them together ? Can you in your 
mind be satisfied, that you and your nearest I'elatives 
should pay no joint homage to that God who hath set you 
in your family, and who hath given to you, and to the sev- 
eral members of it, so many domestic enjoyments ? Can 
it be right, if you have any sense of these things, each of 
you in your own hearts, that the sense of them should be 
concealed and smothered there, and that you should never 
join in your grateful acknowledgments to him ? Can you 
imagine it reasonable, that when you have a constant de- 
pendence upon him for so many mercies, without the recur- 
rence of which your family would be a scene of misery, 
you should never present yourselves together in his pres- 
ence to ask them at his hand ? Upon what principle is 
public worship to be recommended and urged, if not by 
such as have their proportionable weight here ? 

Indeed, the force of these considerations has not only 
been known and acknowledged by the people of God in all 
ages ; we have not only Noah and Abraham, Joshua and 
David, Job and Daniel, each under a much darker dispen- 
sation than ours, as examples of it ; but even the poor 
heathen had their household images, some of them in pri- 
vate chapels, and others about the common hearth, where 
the family used to worship them by frequent prayers and 
sacrifices. And the brass, and wood, and stone, of which 
they consisted, shall, as it were, cry out against you — shall 
rise up against you and condemn you, if, while you call 
yourselves the worshippers of the one living and eternal 



4 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

God, and boast in the revelation you have received by his 
prophets and by his Son, you presume to omit a homage 
which the stupid worshippers of such vanities as these 
failed not to present to them, while they called them their 
gods. Be persuaded then, I beseech you, to be consistent 
in your conduct. Either give up all pretences to religion, 
or maintain a steady and uniform regard to it, at home as 
well as abroad, in the family as well as in the closet or at 
church. 

1. Consider the happy influence which the duty I am 
recommending might have upon the young members of 
your family, the children and servants committed to your 
care. For I now consider you as a parent and a master. 
The father of a family is a phrase that comprehends both 
these relations, and with great propriety, as humanity 
obliges us to endeavor to take a parental care of all under 
our roof. And indeed you ought to consider your servants, 
in this view, with a tender regard. They are probably in 
the flower of life, for that is the age which is commonly 
spent in service ; and you should recollect how possible it 
is, that this may be, if rightly improved, the best opportu- 
nity their whole life may afford them, for learning religion, 
and being brought under the power of it. Let them not, if 
they should finally perish, have cause to testify before God 
in the day of their condemnation, that under your roof 
they learned the neglect and forgetfulness of God, and all 
that their pious parents, perhaps in a much inferior station 
of life to you, had in earlier days been attempting to teach 
them. Or, if they come to you quite ignorant of religion, 
as, if they come from prayerless families, it is very proba- 
ble that they do, have compassion upon them, I entreat 
you, and endeavor to give them those advantages which 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 5 

they never yet had, and which it is too probable, as things 
are generally managed, they never will have, if you will 
not afford them. 

But I would especially, if* I might be allowed to borrow 
the pathetic words of Job, entreat you by the children of your 
own body. Job 19 : 17. I would now, as it were, present 
them all before you, and beseech you by the bowels of 
parental affection, that to all the other tokens of tenderness 
and love, you would not refuse to add this, without which 
many of the rest may be worse than in vain. 

Give me leave to plead with you, as the instruments of 
introducing them into being. O remember, it is indeed a 
debased and corrupted nature that you have conveyed to 
them. Consider, that the world, into which you have been 
the means of bringing them, is a place in which they are 
surrounded by many temptations, and in which, as they 
advance in life, they must expect many more; so that it is 
much to be feared, that they will remain ignorant and for- 
getful of God, if they do not learn from you to love and 
serve him. For how can it be expected that they should 
learn this at all, if you give them no advantages for receiv- 
ing and practising the lesson at home ? 

And let me further urge and entreat you to remember, 
that these dear children are committed to your special care 
by God their Creator, who has made them thus dependent 
upon you, that you might have an opportunity of forming 
their minds, and of influencing them to a right temper and 
conduct. And can this by any means be effectually done, 
if you do not at proper times call them together to attend to 
the instructions of the word of God, and to join in solemn 
prayers and supplications to him ? At least, is it possible 



6 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

that it should be done any other way with equal advantage, 
if this be not added to the rest ? 

Family worship is a most proper way of teaching chil- 
dren religion, as you teach them language by insensible 
degrees — a little one day, and a little another ; for to them 
line 7Jiust be upon line, and precept upon precept. They may 
learn to conceive aright of the divine perfections, when 
they hear you daily acknowledging and adoring them ; 
their hearts may be early touched with remorse for sin, 
when they hear your confessions poured out before God ; 
they will know what mercies they are to ask for themselves, 
by observing what turn your petitions take ; your interces- 
sions may diffuse into their minds a spirit of love to man- 
kind, a concern for the interest of the church and of their 
country ; and your solemn thanksgivings for the bounties 
of Providence, and for benefits of a spiritual nature, 
may affect their hearts with those impressions towards the 
gracious Author of all, which may excite in their little 
breasts love to him, the most noble and genuine principle 
of all true and acceptable religion. Thus they may em- 
brace Christ in their earliest years, and grow in the know- 
ledge and love of truth as they do in stature. Indeed, were 
this duty properly attended to, it might be expected that all 
Christian families would, according to their respective sizes 
and circumstances, become nurseries of piety ; and you 
would see, in the most convincing view, the wisdom of 
Providence, in making human infants so much more de- 
pendent on their parents, and so much more incapable of 
shifting for themselves, than the offspring of inferior crea- 
tures are. 

Let me then entreat you, my dear friends, to look on 
your children the very next time you see them, and ask 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 7 

your own heart, how can you answer it to God and to them, 
that you deprive them of such advantages as these — advan- 
tages without which it is to be feared your care of them in 
other respects will turn to but little account, should they be 
ever so prosperous in life. For what is prosperity in life, 
without the knowledge, and fear, and love of God ? What 
but the poison of the soul, which swells and kills it ? What 
but the means of making it more certainly, more deeply, 
more intolerably miserable ? In short, not to mention the 
happy influence which family devotion may have on their 
temporal affairs, by drawing down the divine blessing, and 
by forming their minds to those virtues which pave the way 
to wealth and reputation, health and contentment, which 
make no enemies, and attract many friends ; it is, with 
respect to the eternal world, the greatest cruelty to your 
children to neglect giving them those advantages which 
no other attentions in education, exclusive of these, can 
afford ; and it is impossible that you should ever be able to 
give them any other equivalent. If you do your duty in 
this respect, they will have reason to bless you, living and 
dying ; and if you neglect it, take care that you and they 
come not, in consequence of that neglect, into a world 
where (horrid as the thought may seem) you will be for 
ever cursing each other ! 

2. Let me now press you to consider how much your 
own interest is concerned in the matter. 

Your spiritual interest is concerned. Let me seriously 
ask you, do you not need those advantages for religion, 
which the performance of family duty will give you, added 
to those of a more secret and a more public nature, if per- 
adventure tJiey are regarded by you ? These instructions, 
these adorations, these confessions, these supplications, 



8 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

these intercessions, these thanksgivings, which may be so 
useful to your children and servants — may they not be 
useful to yourself? May not your own heart have some 
peculiar advantage for being impressed, when you are the 
mouth of others in these domestic devotions, beyond what, 
in a private station of life, it is otherwise possible that you 
should have ? Nay, the remoter influence they may have 
on your conduct, in other respects, and at other times, 
when considered merely in the general, as religious exer- 
cises performed by you in your family, is to be recollected 
as an argument of vast importance. 

A sense of common decency would engage you, if you 
pray with your family, to avoid a great many evils, which 
would appear doubly evil in a father or a master who kept 
up such religious exercises in his house. Do you imagine 
that, if reading the Scriptures, and family prayer, were 
introduced into the houses of some of your neighbors — 
drunkenness, and lewdness, and cursing, and swearmg, 
and profaning the Lord's day, would not, like so many evil 
demons, be quickly driven out ? The master of a family 
would not, for shame, indulge them, if he kept up nothing 
more than the form of duty ; and his reformation, though 
only external, and at first on a kind of constraint, would 
carry with it the reformation of many more, who have such 
a dependence on his favor as they would not sacrifice, 
though, by a madness very prevalent among the children 
of men, they can venture to sacrifice their souls to every 
trifle. 

And may it not perhaps be your more immediate con- 
cern, to recollect, that if you prayed with your family, you 
would yourself be more careful to " abstain from all ap- 
pearance of evil ?" 1 Thess. 5 : 22. You would find 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 9 

out a way to suppress that turbulency of passion which 
may now be ready to break out before you are aware, and 
other imprudences, in which your own heart would check 
you by saying, " Does this become one that is by and by 
to kneel down with his children and servants, and adore 
God with them, and pray against everything which dis- 
pleases God, and makes us unfit for the heavenly world ?" 
I will • not say this will cure everything that is wrong, 
but I believe you are already persuaded, it would often 
have a very good influence. And I fear it is the secret 
desire of indulging some irregularities without such a 
restraint, that, shameful as such a conduct is, hath driven 
out family prayer from several houses, and hath pre- 
vented its introduction into others. But if you have any 
secret disinclination of heart against it, in this view, it be- 
comes you to be most seriously alarmed for your spiritual 
condition. 

After this it may seem a matter of small importance to 
urge the good influence which a proper discharge of family 
duty may have upon your own temporal affairs, both by 
restraining you from many evils, and engaging you to a 
proper conduct yourself, and also by impressing your chil- 
dren and servants with a sense of religion. And it is cer- 
tain, the more careful they are of their duty to God, the 
more likely they will be to perform their duty to you. 
Nor can anything strengthen your natural authority among 
them more, than your presiding in such solemnities, if sup- 
ported by a suitable conduct. But I would hope nobler 
motives will have a superior weight. And therefore, 
waving this topic, I entreat you, as the last argument, to 
consider, 

3. The influence it may have on a general reformation j 



10 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

and on the propagation of religion to those who are yet un- 
born. You ought to consider every child and servant in 
your family, as one who may be a source, not only of life, 
but, in some degree, of character and happiness to those 
who are hereafter to rise into being ; yea, whose conduct 
may in part affect those that are to descend from them in 
a remote generation. If they grow up, while under your 
eye, ignorant of religion, they will certainly be much less 
capable of teaching it to others ; for these are the years of 
discipline, and, if they are neglected now, there is little 
probability of their receiving instruction afterwards. Nor 
is this all the evil consequence ; for it is highly probable, 
that they will think themselves sanctioned by your exam- ^ 
pie in a like negligence, and so you may entail heathenism, 
under the name of Christianity, on your descendants and 
theirs for ages to come. Whereas your diligence and zeal 
might be remembered and imitated by them, perhaps when 
you are in your grave ; and the stock, which they first 
received from you, might with rich improvements be com- 
municated to great numbers, so that one generation after 
another might learn to fear and serve the Lord. On the 
whole, God only knows what a church may arise from one 
godly family ; what a harvest may spring up from a single 
seed ; and on the other hand, it is impossible to say how 
many souls may at length perish by the treacherous neglect 
of a single person, and, to speak plainly, by your own. 

These, sir, are the arguments I have to plead with you, 
and which I have selected out of many more. And now 
give me leave seriously to ask you, as in the presence of 
God, whether there be not on the whole an unanswerable 
force in them ? And if there is, what follows but that you 
immediately yield to that force, and set up family worship 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 11 

this very day ? For, methinks, I hardly would thank you 
for a resolution to do it to-morrow ; so little do I expect 
from that resolution. How can you excuse yourself in the 
continued omission ? Bring the matter before God. He 
will be the final judge of it ; and if you cannot debate the 
question as in his presence, it is the sign of a bad cause, 
and of a bad heart too, which is conscious of the badness 
of the cause ; and yet will not give it up, nor comply with 
a duty, of your obligation to which you are secretly con- 
vinced, while in effect you say, " I will go on in this sin, 
and venture the consequence." O ! it is a dreadful ven- 
ture, and will.be found provoking the Lord to jealousy, as if 
you were stronger than he. 1 Cor. 10 : 22. 

God is represented as giving this reason to his angels 
for a particular favor to be bestowed on Abraham. " I 
know that he will command his children and household to 
keep the way of the Lord, that he may obtain the blessing 
promised." Gen. 18 : 19. Did he not hereby intend to 
declare his approbation of the care which Abraham took to 
support religion in his family ? And can it be supported 
in a total neglect of prayer ? 

Again : Do you not, in your conscience, think that the 
Spirit of God meant that we should take Joshua for an 
example, when he tells us, that he resolved, and publicly 
declared the resolution, that he and his house would serve the 
Lord, Josh. 24 : 15 ; which must express a religious care 
of his family too ? 

Do you not believe, that the blessed Spirit meant it as a 
commendation of Job, that he offered sacrifices for all his 
children, Job 1 : 5 — sacrifices undoubtedly attended with 
prayers — when he feared lest the gayety of their hearts, in 



12 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

their successive feastings, might have betrayed them into 
some moral evil ? 

And was it not to do an honor to David, that the Scrip- 
ture informs us that " he went home to bless his house- 
hold," 2 Sam. 6 : 20 ; that is, to perform some solemn 
act of domestic worship, when he had been spending the 
whole day in public devotion ? 

And do you think, when our blessed Lord, whose life 
Was employed in religious services, so frequently took his 
disciples apart to pray with them, that he did not intend 
this as an example to us, of praying with those under our 
special care, or in other words, with the members of our 
own family, who are most immediately so ? Or can you, 
by any imaginable artifice, delude yourself so far as to 
think, that when we are solemnly charged and commanded 
to pray " with all prayer and supplication," Eph. 6 : 18, 
this kind of prayer is not included in that apostolical in- 
junction ? 

Were there not one praying family in the whole world, 
methinks it should instigate you to the practice, rather than 
tempt you to neglect it, and you should press on, as ambi- 
tious of the glory of leading the way. For what could be 
a nobler object of ambition, than to be pointed out by the 
blessed God himself, as Job was ; of whom he said, with a 
kind of triumph, " Hast thou considered my servant Job, 
that there is none like him in the land, or even on the 
earth ?" Job 1 : 8. But blessed be God, the neglect we 
have supposed is far from being universal. Let it how- 
ever rejoice us, if God may say, " There are such and such 
families, distinguishable from those in their neighborhood on 
this account ; as prevalent as the neglect of family prayer 
is, they have the resolution to practise it, and, like my ser- 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 13 

vant Daniel, fear not the reproach and contempt which 
profane and ungodly men may cast upon them, if they 
may but honor me and engage my favor : I know them ; 
I hearken and hear, and a book of remembrance is written 
before me for them that fear me, and think on my name." 
Say not you have no time. How many hours in a week 
do you spend for amusement, while you have none for de- 
votion in your family ? And do you indeed hold the bless- 
ing of God so very cheap, and think it a matter of so little 
importance, that you conclude your business must succeed 
the worse, if a few minutes were daily taken to implore it 
before your family ? Let me rather admonish you, that 
the greater your business is, the more need you have to 
pray earnestly that your heart may not be engrossed by it. 
And I would beg leave further to remind you, that if your 
hurry of business were indeed so great as the objection 
supposes, (which I believe is seldom the case,) prudence 
alone might suggest that you should endeavor to contract 
it. For there are certain boundaries beyond which a wise 
and faithful care cannot extend ; and as an attempt to go 
beyond these boundaries has generally its foundation in 
avarice, so it often has its end in poverty and ruin. But if 
you were ever so secure of succeeding for this world, how 
dean might you and your children pay for that success, if 
all the blessed consequences of family religion, for time and 
for eternity, were to be given up as the price of that very 
small part of your gains, which is owing to the minutes 
you take from these exercises, that you may give them to 
the world ? For you plainly perceive the question is only 
about them, and by no means about a strenuous application 
to the proper duties of your secular calling through the 
day. And if you will be rich upon such profane terms as 



14 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

are here supposed, (for truly I can call them no better than 
profane,) you will probably plunge yourself into final per- 
dition, and may in the mean time "pierce yourself through 
with many sorrows;" while religious families will learn, 
by happy experience, that the blessing of the Lord, which 
they are so often imploring together, " maketh rich, and he 
addeth no sorrow with it," Prov. 10 : 22 ; or that " a little, 
with the fear of the Lord, is better than great treasures," 
with that intermingled trouble, Prov. 15 : 16, which in the 
neglect of God must necessarily be expected. 

As for ahility, where the heart is rightly disposed, it » 
does not require any uncommon abilities to discharge family 
worship in a decent and edifying manner. " The heart of 
the wise," in this respect, " teacheth his mouth, and addeth 
knowledge to his lips," Prov. 16 : 23 ; and " out of the 
fulness of it," when it is indeed full of pious affections, 
" the mouth will naturally speak." Luke 6 : 4-5. Plain, 
short sentences, uttered just as they rise in the mind, will 
be best understood by them that join with you ; and they 
will be more pleasing to God than anything which should 
proceed from ostentation and parade. 

1 must also desire you to consider, how many helps you 
may easily procure. The Scripture is a large and noble 
magazine of th^ most proper sentiments, and most expres- 
sive language, which, if you will attend to it with a be- 
coming regard, will soon furnish you for this good work. 
We have too in our language a great variety of excellent 
forms of prayer for families as well as for private persons, 
which you may use, at least at first, with great profit. 
And if it is too laborious to you to learn them by heart, or 
if, having learned them, you dare not trust your memory, 
what should forbid your reading them reverently and de- 



FAMILY WORSHIP. 15 

voutly ? 1 hope the main thing is, that God be reverently 
and sincerely adored ; that suitable blessings, temporal and 
spiritual, be sought from him for ourselves and others ; 
and cordial thanksgivings returned to him for the various 
gifts of his continual bounty. 

If opposition be made in your family, you ought to let 
any in whom you discover it know that your measures 
are fixed, and that you cannot and will not resign that 
just authority which the laws of God and man give you 
in your own house, to their unhappy temper, or daring 
impiety. 

May God give you resolution immediately to make the 
attempt ! And may he assist and accept you, and scatter 
down every desirable blessing of Providence and of grace 
on you and yours ! So that this day may become memora- 
ble in your lives, as a season from which you may date a 
prosperity and a joy hitherto unknown, how happy soever 
you may have been in former years ; for very imperfect, 
I am sure, must that domestic happiness be, in which do- 
mestic religion has no part. 

But if, after all, you will not be persuaded, you must 
answer it at last. If your children and servants grow up 
in the neglect of God, and pierce your hearts with those 
^orrows which such servants, and especially such chil- 
dren, are likely to occasion ; if they raise profane and 
profligate families ; if they prove the curse of their coun- 
try, as well as the torment and ruin of those most inti- 
mately related to them ; the guilt is in part yours, and, I 
repeat it again, you must answer it to God at the great day, 
that you have omitted the proper and appointed method of 
preventing such fatal evils. In the mean time you must 
answer the omission to your own conscience, which prob- 



16 FAMILY WORSHIP. 

ably has not been easy in former days, and in future days 
may yet be more unquiet. Yet, sir, the memory of this 
address may continue to torment you, if it cannot reform 
you ; and if you do not forsake the house of God, as well 
as exclude God and his worship from your own house, 
you will meet with new wounds ; for new exhortations and 
admonitions will arm reflection with new reproaches. And 
in this uncomfortable manner you will probably go on, till 
what has been the grief and shame of your life, become 
the affliction of your dying bed ; nor dare I presume to 
assure you that God will answer your last cries for pardon. 
The best you can expect, under the consciousness of this 
guilt, is to pass trembling to your final doom. But what- 
ever that doom be, you must acquit the friend who has 
given you a faithful warning ; and this address, transcribed 
as it were in the records of the divine omniscience, shall 
testify, that a matter of so great importance has not been 
kept out of your view, nor slightly urged on your conscience. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 19, 



THE 



MORAL MAN TRIED. 



IN THREE DIALOGUES. 




Minister. Good morning, neighbor. I find you have 
been early up and diligently employed : I see thriving in 
the world is a matter very near your heart. 

Parishioner. Aye, sir, all this is necessary. Meat and 
clothes must be provided, and this requires much diligence. 

M. I would by no means discourage your industry. It 
is your duty to be " not slothful in business." But you 
know you have another calling — the soul must be fed and 
clothed too. 

P. Doubtless the soul is the chief concern ; but I hope 
I do not neglect it ; I should be sorry you should think me 
so bad a man : I believe you have no reason — 
VOL. I. II 



2 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

M. No particular reason to be suspicious of you more 
than of many others. But when I look around, and observe 
the general unconcern about salvation in which men live, I 
am alarmed ; and with respect to the people of my charge, 
I think myself obliged to warn them of their danger. 

P. I hope you do not condemn us all. Some of us, 
indeed, are wicked, swearing, drunken men ; but we are not 
all so. You know that I attend church regularly ; I never 
wronged any man in my life ; and I pay every man his due. 

M. And upon this you build your hope of heaven ! If 
this is your foundation, I must tell you plainly it will leave 
you hopeless in the day of trial. Let us examine it by the 
word of God. " You never wronged any man." You 
mean, perhaps, you never robbed or cheated any person. I 
do not say you have, but still you have committed much 
sin, and done much hurt, not only to others, but especially 
to vour own soul, by great and numberless offences against 
the holy law of God. Nay, you have broken every one of 
his commandments. 

P. How can you have such an opinion of me ? I never 
committed idolatry, murder, adultery — 

M. Yes, all of them. Have you never loved any world- 
ly thing more than God and his favor, nor feared anything 
more than his displeasure, so as to neglect a known duty 
rather than draw upon yourself some temporal evil ? This 
was a breach of the first commandment. The second com- 
mandment respects the manner of expressing the devotion 
of the heart ; and therefore whatever in your service has 
been unbecoming, such as wandering thoughts, carelessness, 
and irreverence, is a breach of this commandment ; so also 
is neglect of God's service. And here you will not pretend, 
I suppose, to be guiltless. Consequently, your coming to 
church in this careless, unthinking manner, deserves rather 
to be reckoned among your sins than trusted to for jnstifica- 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 3 

tion before God. Every time you have used the Lord's 
name without any reverential sense of his majesty, you 
have broken the third commandment. Whenever you have 
neglected to attend on God's worship on the Sabbath with- 
out a necessary hindrance, suffered worldly thoughts to unfit 
you for God's service, done worldly business on that day 
that might have been done on another, and neglected to de- 
vote the whole to God, by reading, hearing,' prayer, medita- 
tion, and useful conversation, you have profaned the Lord's 
day. The substance of these commands is, thou shalt love 
the Lord thy God with all thy heart ; but you have come 
short of this, whenever you have not acted to the glory of 
God. Now what think you of your innocence with respect 
to the duties of the first table of the commandments ? 

P. I cannot pretend to justify myself with respect to 
God, but I am sure I have done no hurt to man. 

M. You would not say so if you understood the spiritual 
nature and extent of God's law, as explained by our Lord 
in his Sermon on the Mount. Matt. 5. There you find that 
wantonness in the eye or heart is esteemed adultery in the 
sight of God ; and causeless anger, and especially injurious 
language, is accounted a degree of murder ; and who can 
acquit himself of these ? If you take the same method to 
understand the other commandments, all parts of your be- 
havior that are unsuitable to your station, all irreverence 
and rash censure of superiors, and all unkind and injurious 
treatment of those beneath you, will appear breaches of the 
jifth commandment. All evil-speaking and repeating stories 
injurious to the character of others, is contrary to the ninth; 
and all murmuring and discontent, envy and greediness, 
are sins forbidden by the tenth. 

P. Then it seems there is but one commandment against 
which I have not sinned. 

M. If you rightly knew yourself and the law of God, 



4 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

you would not acquit yourself of that either. Be not 
offended, I speak out of love to your soul. 1 do not think 
you a thief or a robber ; yet have you never concealed the 
faults of what you sold, when you knew that ignorance of 
these was the very thing that induced the person to buy ? 
Nay, have you not often recommended your goods in such 
general terms as were not consistent with strict truth ? 
Have you not taken advantage of the necessity of a needy 
seller, and beat down his ware much below its real value ? 
These will certainly witness against you. 

P. Why, sir, after this rate you condemn all the world. 
According to your account there is not a good man upon 
earth. 

M. It is not my account, but the Scripture account : 
" There is none that doeth good, no, not one." Rom. 
3 : 12. 

P. I am glad, then, you do not think me worse than my 
neighbors. I hope I shall do as well as others, for all are 
sinners. 

M. Therefore you think you need not be greatly trou- 
bled if you are so too, but hope to pass in the crowd. Does 
not some such thought as that lurk at the bottom ? But what 
signify numbers with God, from whose all-searching eye no 
man can be concealed, and whose arm no man can resist or 
escape ? Had you lived in Sodom, or the old world, this 
same thought might have lulled you to sleep in the prevail- 
ing sins, but would not have saved you from the tempest 
of fire. 

P. After this rate you damn all the world. 

M. Damn! — What word is that? It signifies to judge 
to eternal torment, to do which belongeth only to the right- 
eous Judge. I would with all my soul rescue men from 
that misery. And with this view I now speak plainly and 
faithfully to you, and agreeably to the word of God. 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. O 

P. Who then can be saved ? Not you yourself. Pray, 
sir, did you never sin ? 

M. Friend, be serious. The subject we are now upon 
is of the utmost importance. I have sinned as well as you ; 
I have greatly sinned, and my sins have deserved eternal 
damnation. But, as I hope, God has been pleased to awake 
me to repentance ; he has shown me my danger, and stir- 
red me up to flee from the wrath to come. He has shown 
me also the way opened in the blessed Gospel of escaping 
the wages of sin. The offer of salvation there made, I trust 
I have embraced, and obtained forgiveness, through faith in 
Jesus Christ. 

P. I hope I have repented too ; I am sure, if I offend 
God I am sorry for it afterwards. And for faith — why, I 
always believed. 

M. If your repentance is sincere, and your faith lively 
and true, your state is safe and happy. But many persons 
deceive themselves by a dead faith and imperfect repent- 
ance. Are you willing to have yours tried ? 

P. I am ; for the trial can do me no hurt. If I am safe, 
it is well ; if not, I hope it is not too late to mend. 

M. You say very right. First, then, let us examine your 
repentance. Now, true repentance implies an aflfecting sense 
of sin, its odiousness and deformity, a hatred of it, a humili- 
ation and self-loathing on account of it, an actual forsaking 
of it, and a turning to God by newness of life. Is your re- 
pentance such as this 1 

P. 1 hope it is. 

M. Examine your feelings. The wages of sin is death, 
eternal death. Do you think you deserve this death ? 

P. As much as other men, for all are sinners ; but God 
is merciful. 

M. Do not now talk of other men. Do you think that 
you deserve eternal death ? 



6 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

P. If God should deal with me according to strict jus- 
tice, I do ; but as I think God is merciful, so I hope I shall 
do well enough. 

M. I fear your notions of God's mercy are such as pre- 
vent true repentance. You seem to have hope of mercy 
without being sensible of your utter misery without it ; to 
have applied the healing balsam before you were wounded. 
This is what the Almighty styles " healing the wounds of 
his people slightly." Now you seem in this matter to have 
deceived yourself. You never saw yourself in a state of 
sin and death ; you never saw sin odious ; you were never 
greatly afraid of perishing, nor saw that there was no help 
or strength in yourself; therefore you never fled to him who 
is a refuge " from the storm." And if you have never fled 
thus to Christ, as helpless and undone without him, it is 
plain that you are still without any saving interest in him. 
See how it was with those converts mentioned in the Acts 
of the apostles : Peter's hearers were " pricked in their 
hearts, and said. Men and brethren, what shall we do ?" 
The jailor came trembling, through a sense of his miserable 
condition, before he received forgiveness of sins. Paul was 
struck to the ground under a sense of guilt. 

P. All these were infidels. I was born of pious parents, 
bred up to know good things, and always believed. 

M. God does not deal with all exactly in the same way. 
But take heed you do not depend too much upon outward 
privilege. Search your heart and life. Have you not lived 
a long time as without God in the world ? Instead of re- 
nouncing the world, the flesh, and the devil, have you not 
followed and been led by them ? Have you not been led by 
the world, in judging of things according to the opinions of 
men, in opposition to the word of God ? Have you not in 
many things conformed to it, contrary to the commands of 
God ? Have you not frequently obeyed your carnal lusts 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 7 

and inclinations, so as to violate the pure law of God, if not 
by actual offences, yet by indulging evil thoughts and liv- 
ing in lesser sins without concern ? And has not the devil 
been for a considerable time your master, leading you to 
offend God by profaning his holy day ; and that for the sake 
of such trifling pleasure as plainly argues that the love of 
God is not in you ? And have you not continued in sin 
with little or no concern, hoping, notwithstanding, that all 
would be well ? Nay, is not this still, in some measure, 
your case ? I see you acknowledge it is. It is plain, then, 
there is a necessity of turning unto God, and beginning all 
anew. 

P. How must I begin anew ? 

31. By acknowledging that by your departure from God 
you have brought yourself into a state of sin and misery, 
estranged from God, inclined to evil, and therefore at enmi- 
ty with God in your heart ; and that for these things you 
deserve his wrath, and stan*; on the brink of ruin, covered 
with guilt, and fleeing to the Lord Jesus Christ for mercy. 

P. I am willing to forsake all sin, turn to God, and do 
better. 

M. These are good resolutions, but they do not seem to 
proceed from a right principle. You would forsake sin, 
and do better, I see, with some secret dependence upon your 
amendment and doings, that these will fit you for accept- 
ance and gain you an interest in Christ. But this is a legal 
spirit of self-dependence, a " going about to establish your 
own righteousness." When I see you acknowledge your- 
self sinful, vile, and base, and like Job abhorring yourself; 
when I see you sensible that you are unworthy of the least 
mercy, and that without the renewing of the Holy Spirit 
you can do nothing acceptable to God ; when I see you re- 
nouncing your best deeds as defiled by sin, casting yourself 
before God as lost and helpless ; having no hope in your- 



8 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

self, but supported only by the promise of salvation made 
in Jesus Christ; when this is not only the language of the 
tongue, but these convictions are deeply impressed on the 
heart — then I shall think a real work of grace is begun in 
your soul. 

P. Why, this is advising me to despair! 

M. Indeed I would have you despair of all help from 
yourself, for till then you will not sufficiently value Jesus 
Christ, nor fly to him as your only Saviour, " who came to 
preach deliverance to the captives," " to bind up the broken- 
hearted." 

P. I believe all this may be necessary for a notorious 
sinner; but I have lived in some fear of God, attended 
church, and always believed. 

M. I fear you never believed at all, properly speaking. 
At present, it is plain your repentance has not been real. 
You never saw and felt your danger, and consequently 
never saw the necessity of escaping it. You always flat- 
tered yourself with some hopes that your state was safe, or 
certainly would be when you lived a little better ; which 
was, at bottom, depending on yourself. With respect to the 
other branches of repentance, such as forsaking sin, it is 
evident to yourself you have lived without concern in some 
habitual sins ; and as for turning to God, you were never 
sensible that you were turned fro7n him. 

Indeed (though you seem not to know it) the ruling 
principle in you, and every natural man, is a principle of 
selfishness and corruption. Instead of seeking to please 
God, you have all along been seeking to please yourself; 
to gratify corrupt nature by sensual delights, riches, world- 
ly esteem, ease, or the like. This has been the moving 
principle of your whole conduct, instead of obeying that 
command, " Do all to the glory of God.'^ Nay, if you 
search narrowly, you will find in your heart enmity against 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 9 

God. For so says the apostle : " The carnal mind " (and 
such is every man's by nature) " is enmity against God." 
Rom. 8:7. And this enmity shows itself in opposing God's 
will, by doing what he has forbidden, and leaving undone 
what he has solemnly commanded. Have you not passed 
days and weeks without one serious thought of God, though 
you were all the time receiving mercies at his hand ? Have 
you not banished and suppressed such thoughts when they 
have arisen in your mind ? Have you not fled from serious 
thoughts of God and eternity, as enemies to your peace, 
and drowned them in worldly cares, vain conversations, and 
idle amusements ? Have you not thus fled from God ? You 
know you have. Suffer me to be plain with you ; hitherto 
you have gone wrong, been insensible of your danger, de- 
ceived yourself, and spoken peace to your soul when there 
was no peace. Continuing thus you must perish. Christ 
requires you to surrender your heart to him, confessing 
your sins, and accepting of mercy through his blood and 
righteousness. " There is none other name under heaven 
given among men, whereby we can be saved." 



DIALOGUE II. 



M. I was in hopes of seeing you before now, neighbor, 
that we might have an opportunity of talking again on the 
same important subject. 

P. Indeed, sir, I must say, I did not like what you said 
so well as then to wish to hear any more of it ; but I am 
now convinced it was all true. 

M. What has produced this change in your sentiments ? 

VOL. I. I 1* 



10 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

P. Your yesterday's sermon about the Day of Judg- 
ment. I have been very uneasy ever since I heard it ; and 
I am greatly afraid that if the day of judgment were now 
come, it would find me unprepared. 

M. It would be too late then to cry and hope for mercy. 
But what was it particularly that made you form such a 
judgment of yourself? 

P. You showed us, from the 25th chapter of Matthew, 
that judgment begins with a separation of the godly from 
the wicked ; and that this must be according to a separation 
made between them in the present life. I am not sensible 
of any such change in me as you described, and am there- 
fore afraid I am still in the state of sin in which you told 
us all men are by nature. 

M. You have great reason to be afraid. I told you that 
those only would be esteemed righteous on that day, who 
had fled to the Lord Jesus for righteousness to justify them, 
had been made holy by the Spirit of God creating in them 
a new heart, and had evidenced this change by a holy con- 
versation through the remaining part of their life, how many 
or great soever their sins had been ; and that the wicked 
were those that had lived and died without faith in Christ 
and the indwelling of God's Spirit, however orderly and 
decent their conduct was. 

P. Ay, that it was terrified me. You told us that the 
most upright man had committed sins enough to condemn 
him, if he died without an interest in Christ, and without 
being accepted as righteous through him. 

M. Those who do not by faith fly for refuge to God's 
mercy in Christ, have no good works to be mentioned ; for 
all they do is from a wrong principle, either for selfish and 
worldly ends, or in order to gain an interest in Christ, and 
pardon of their sins on account of their doings ; which is 
seeking salvation by the law of works. 



THE MORAL MAN TR1P:D. 11 

P. I see that all depends upon my obtaining, while on 
earth, mercy and forgiveness of all that is past ; and that, 
not on account of any thing done by me, but through faith 
in Jesus Christ. But what that faith is, I know not : this I 
know, that I have been all along out of the way. I see that 
I have been daily offending God, by breaking his command- 
ments, and pleasing myself, not him ; and that now I stand 
under the guilt of thousands of sins, the least of which were 
enough to condemn me. Do, sir, tell me " what must I do 
to be saved ?" 

M. What think you now of your good deeds ? 

P. I have none to think about. I see sin in everything 
I do. My pride on account of not being so bad as others, 
my worldliness, my vanity, and trifling spirit in prayer and 
hearing sermons, were enough to condemn me, if I had done 
nothing else. 

M. And what do you intend to do ? 

P. I will do better, I will strive against sin, I will 
pray. 

M. But all these duties, you say, have been heretofore 
mixed with sin ; how then do you hope they will make you 
accepted now ? Or, could you do these things ever so well, 
all is your necessary, bounden duty ; the good deeds which 
you may do cannot make amends for past offences. On all 
these accounts^ " by the deeds of the law shall no man 
living be justified." 

P. I see no way — if ever there was a soul lost, I am 
he — what shall I do ? 

M. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt 
be saved." Acts 16 : 31. " This is the work of God, that 
ye believe in him whom he hath sent." John 6 : 29. " And 
by him all that believe are justified from all things." Acts 
13 : 39. Come, naked, sinful, and helpless as you are, to 
God, through Christ, for mercy. " He is able to save to 



12 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

the Uttermost all who come unto God by him, seeing he" 
hath died for them, and " ever liveth to make intercession 
for them." Heb. 7 : 25. He can wash you from the guilt 
of all your sins, destroy the power and dominion of sin 
in you, sanctify you thoroughly in body, and soul, and 
spirit, and " present you to the Father without spot or 
blemish." 

P. I have no manner of doubt of Christ's power to save, 
for he is the Son of God ; but I fear I am not a fit person 
to be saved. 

M. To determine that, look into your Bible. There it 
is said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save sin- 
ners." 1 Tim. 1 : 15. 

P. But he will not, he does not save all sinners. 

M. That is because they will not con>e to him to be 
saved. Of this he complains, John 5 : 40, " Ye will not 
come to me, that ye may have life." 

P. But I find certain conditions mentioned, which I fear 
I have not. It is said, " Repent, and believe the Gospel;" 
and " he that belie veth, and is baptized, shall be saved." 

M. If you are weary with the burden of sin, loathe it, 
and earnestly desire to be saved from the guilt and pollu- 
tion of it, then go to Christ, who hath said, " Come unto 
me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest." 

P. But it is said, " Many will seek to enter in, and 
shall not be able ;" and " not every one that saith unto me, 
Lord ! Lord ! shall enter into the kingdom of heaven." 
This makes me fear and keep at a distance. 

M. To whom, then, do you intend to go ? 

P. I know not, for there is no other name under heaven 
whereby one may be saved. 

M. Then apply to Christ ; so escape the wages of sin, 
the curse of the law, and the wrath of God ; fly to him for 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 13 

pardon and peace, grace and glory. Behold him on the 
cross, bleeding and dying for sinners — embrace and de- 
pend on God's promises in him. 

P. I dare not thus embrace the promises, come to and 
depend on Christ, for I am utterly unworthy of the least 
mercy. 

M. When do you think to make yourself worthy ? 

P. Never. 

M. Then come to him just as you are, and accept un- 
merited mercy. 

P. May I dare thus to come to Christ and depend upon 
him for salvation ? 

M. Do not depend upon my word, but hear the word 
of God. He invites you to come : *' Ho ! every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters." Isaiah 55 : 1. He com- 
mands you to come : " This is his commandment, that we 
should believe on the name of his Son Jesus Christ." 1 
John, 3 : 23. He promises to receive those that come : 
" Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." 
John 6 : 37. He threatens if you do not come : " He that 
believeth not, shall be damned." Mark 16 : 16. 

P. But to whom are these words addressed ? 

M. To you, to me, and to every one that hears them : 
« Preach the Gospel to every creature." Mark 16 : 15. 
They are addressed to those especially that see their want 
of salvation, because they alone will receive them : " Come 
unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest." Matt. 11 : 28. 

P. These arguments from Scripture stop my mouth. 
But still I cannot believe Christ will receive such a sinner 
as I am. 

M. This stubborn unbelief is your deepest guilt. But 
consider again— God gave his only Son to death for this 
very purpose, to save sinners ; for this he came into the 



14 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

world ; for this he labored, wept, and bled ; for this he 
reigns and intercedes in heaven. He is so far from being 
unwilling to save, that he is offended with those who will 
not come to him to be saved. When he was upon earth he 
wept over Jerusalem on this account. 

P. I know not what to say. 

M. What do you intend to do ? 

P. I am greatly afraid I shall never be saved. But I 
know there is no other way but God's free mercy in Christ. 
I feel that I must go to him, and if I perish it shall be at 
the foot of the cross, calling for mercy. 

M. Continue this resolution, and all the precious pro- 
mises of the Gospel are yours. Do not seek rest any- 
where but in Christ. Beware lest worldly cares or plea- 
sures, divert your attention from the things of God, and 
lest sin grieve the Holy Spirit. Remember it is said, " If a 
man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him." 



DIALOGUE III. 



P. Sir, I hope you will not be offended at the trouble I 
give you ; but I want your advice very much. 

M. You need no apology, my friend ; I am glad to see 
any of the people of my charge when they need spiritual 
advice. 

P. I have been for some time so as I never was in my 
life before ; I have seen that my heart is a sink of sin, and 
that I deserve nothing but hell. You had no need to cau- 
tion me against the danger of worldly cares and pleasures ; 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 15 

for wherever I have been, or whatever I have been doing, 
my sins and hell have still been before 'my eyes. 

M. What have you thought of your sins ? In what 
light have they appeared to you ? 

P. Sins committed many years ago have now arisen in 
my mind and condemned me. The remembrance of the 
sins of my youth has followed me, as if committed but yes- 
terday. And some awful Scriptures that I have heard and 
read seem to be the sentences of my condemnation. I be- 
lieve I have thought a hundred times of these words, " The 
wages of sin is death." 

M. Have you looked into your heart, and seen and 
lamented the corruption there? 

P. I did not use to understand what you meant by look- 
ing into the heart ; but I think I do now. I find in myself a 
strong inclination to many sins, and I am convinced that I 
deserve God's wrath for complying with these inclinations 
through my whole life. I have been led, by my own wicked 
heart, to delight in evil company ; to talk of myself in an 
empty, vain manner ; to be greedy after the world ; to pass 
slightly over, or entirely neglect prayer or other duties, as 
a tedious burden ; and to be guilty of other sins. I now de- 
sire to renounce sin, and live to the glory of God. 

M. Trust not in your own strength : you may not yet 
know your heart so well as you imagine. Be not deceived ; 
such a cage of unclean birds as the heart of every man is 
by nature, is not easily cleansed from its various lusts and 
vile affections. Those that seem to be rooted out, are per- 
haps only asleep for a season. Be watchful, therefore ; they 
may one day awake again. Some of them, perhaps, are 
only exchanged for others as bad and dangerous, such as 
pride, presumption, and the like. 

P. Really, sir, I fear I have been guilty of presump- 
tion. I was thinking what a sinful wretch I was, and what 



16 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

would become of me in the next world, when these words 
came strongly into my mind : " I will heal their backsliding, 
I will love them freely." I am sure they are somewhere 
in the Bible, but I cannot find them. They gave me much 
comfort and peace. Have I any right to regard this as the 
work of God ? 

M. I must desire some time to observe your temper and 
conduct, before I can solve this question. The words of 
Hosea which you mentioned, contain a sweet promise, and 
are free for every humble soul to embrace by faith. And 
as God has given you a sense of your sinful, helpless state, 
and a desire of turning to him, I hope the promise belongs 
to you, and that the comfort which you found in applying 
it to yourself proceeded from the Spirit of God. But re- 
member the Saviour's exhortation. Watch and pray. The 
enemy of souls sometimes imitates these sensible expe- 
riences in order to deceive. And it is impossible to say 
how much our natural tempers and spirits may contribute 
thereto. 

P. Pray, sir, tell me plainly what you think of my 
state ? As far as 1 know my own heart, I would not will- 
ingly offend God for the whole world. I see and rejoice 
that through Jesus Christ God can be just and justify him 
that believeth. I hope I believe and trust in him alone for 
salvation. I love those that seem to be his servants, and 
would go upon my hands and knees to do them good, or to 
make others like them. I love to hear his word, to pray, 
and to talk of heavenly things ; and I think I could die with 
pleasure, if it were his will. 

M. These are good signs. But rest not in any present 
attainments. The first love of the Israelites after passing 
the Red Sea, of the Galatians, and of the church of Ephe- 
sus, was great. But each of these grew colder afterwards ; 
and were reproved for it. You will have a continual war- 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 17 

fare with sin to maintain. It is " he that endureth unto the 
end " that " shall be saved." 

P. Sir, I believe you know my danger better than I do 
myself. Pray direct me to what I shall do. 

M. Strive to " make your calling and election sure," 
and evident both to yourself and others, by " bringing forth 
the fruits of righteousness in a good conversation." 

My first advice is. Walk humbly with thy God. Let the 
remembrance of your past life of sin and folly still cover 
you with shame. Recollect the many aggravating circum- 
stances of a life hitherto spent in rebellion against God ; 
during all which he daily heaped mercies upon you and 
yours ; giving food and raiment, health and strength ; and 
continued these mercies to you, while you forgot the hand 
that gave them, and returned evil for good. 

He spared you in all your provocations, and at last 
opened your eyes to see your danger, stirred you up to 
avoid it, and now has given you hope, through grace, of 
obtaining eternal life. Thus compare what God has done 
with what you have deserved, and learn humility. Keep a 
watchful eye also upon the remains of indwelling sin. And 
let every sinful inclination, vain thought, backwardness to 
duty, and failure in it, teach you to be humble and fear. 
Thus, distrusting yourself, look up to God for continual 
support, like a helpless little child, to be assisted in every 
time of need. 

My next advice is. Keep a conscience void of offence. If 
you have wronged any man, be not ashamed to acknow- 
ledge it, and according to your power make restitution, that 
the accursed thing may not cleave to you. Take heed that 
you grieve not the Spirit of God by unholy walking, lest 
you provoke him to forsake you. To this end watch over 
your heart, repress its first inclinations to sin, and be watch- 
ful of temptations from without j fixing your eye especially 



18 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

on the sin by which you have heretofore been most easily 
beset. If at any time sin prevail against you, do not endea- 
vor to forget it, or hide it in your bosom ; but go to God 
immediately ; take shame to yourself; plead the Gospel pro- 
mises to returning sinners, looking unto Jesus Christ as your 
all-sufficient sacrifice and advocate with the Father; and 
never cease wrestling with God in prayer for pardon, until 
he again speak peace to your troubled soul, and fill you 
with a greater fear of offending him. 

As I hope you are now planted in God's vineyard, be 
fruitful. Bear on your heart a sense of God's love to sin- 
ners in Jesus Christ. Consider in particular what God has 
done for you, in " calling you out of darkness into his mar- 
vellous light." Remember how you lay fast asleep in sin 
and fatal security, when God awakened you to see your 
danger and escape it. Think how many still go on in the 
same fatal path in which you trod. And let the sense of 
God's distinguishing love to you excite you to some return. 
" Love him, because he first loved you." And let love to 
your heavenly Father influence your thoughts, and words, 
and actions. 

Let your meditations of God be sweet and frequent. 
Lift up your heart to him that seeth in secret, and trieth 
the heart and reins. Seek a close communion with the 
Father of your spirit ; and to this end endeavor to withdraw 
your thoughts from worldly things, and to raise your affec- 
tions from earth to heaven, to those things which are not 
seen but by the eye of faith. Thus you may walk by faith, 
guided by it as the eye of the soul, and raised by it to heav- 
enly mindedness ; so as habitually to love and delight in 
God. 

Instead of your former vain conversation, henceforth let 
your tongue he employed to God^s glory; in praising his 
name, in making known to others his mercy in Christ ; in 



THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 19 

warning sinners of their danger, and encouraging them that 
fear God to be bold and hearty in his service. Pray much 
for sinners around you ; for the prosperity of Zion ; and that 
the whole earth may be converted to God. 

And let your conduct in life be such as becometh the 
Gospel. You are called to fight the good fight of faith ; see 
that you faint not, neither be weary of well-doing. Show 
that you are alive unto God, by living unto God, by devot- 
ing yourself to his service, and by diligence therein. Do 
something for him that has done so much for you. Love 
all men, for they are the work of God's hands. Do good 
to all men, not excepting your enemies ; let these have your 
prayers and forgiveness, and be ready to " overcome evil 
with good." 

See also that you show the power of godliness in the 
conscientious discharge of relative duties. Be kindly affec- 
tionate and tender-hearted to all about you. To those of 
your family show yourself an example of gentleness, love, 
and forbearance. Show your regard for their souls as well 
as their bodies. Let your family and your acquaintance 
see that you have a new heart, by your leading a new life, 
and studying in all things to be conformed to the will and 
word of God. 

Show a particular regard for " them that are of the 
household of faith," all the sincerely godly, for Christ's 
sake. And to animate you to greater diligence in this work 
and labor of love, look forward with the eye of faith to that 
glorious day when Christ shall reward acts of mercy and 
love, done in his name, as if done to himself. 

Quickened by this principle, and encouraged by this 
prospect, strive to grow in knowledge, in purity, faith, love, 
and godly fear, in meekness, and every Christian grace. 
Study to promote God's glory, the welfare of all men, and 
such a disposition in your own soul as may render you 



20 THE MORAL MAN TRIED. 

meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in 
light. And in order to promote this work of sanctification 
in you, wait on God for his blessing in a conscientious use 
of all the means of grace. 

P. Sir, I thank you. I see a great work before me ; 
but, by God's help, I hope I shall be able to hold out to 
the end. 

M. You must expect many difficulties and much oppo- 
sition. The way to heaven is the way of the cross, and 
through much tribulation. The world, the flesh, and the 
devil are strong enemies, and they are closely leagued to- 
gether. But be not discouraged ; God is above all. Christ 
" ever liveth to make intercession for us," and to save in 
every difficulty those "that come unto God through him." 
Holy angels wiH be employed as your guardians ; and all 
the truly godly will be your loving brethren and ready 
friends. " They that are for you are more than they that 
are against you." Be not your own enemy, and nothing 
can hurt you. Be not high-minded, but fear. " Happy is 
the man that feareth always." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 20. 
REMEMBER 

THE SABBATH BAY, 

TO KEEP IT HOLY. 



Such is the solemn order of Him in whose hands our 
breath is, and whose are all our ways ; and he is one who 
will not be mocked, and cannot be either escaped or resisted. 
His bounty permits us to spend six days in our worldly la- 
bor — not that a good man will forget his Maker for a single 
hour — but the seventh day is the Lord's by a peculiar 
claim : on it he rested from his work, when he had finished 
the earth, the heavens, and all their host. We are inform- 
ed also, that he hallowed it ; that is, made it holy ; fixed it 
as the season when the tribute of gratitude and adoration 
should be paid him by the joyful multitude. Shall a man 
rob God ? Or has God withdrawn his claim ? No ; he 
appears, by an ordinance lasting as the sun and moon, to 
have demanded the seventh part of our time for his imme- 
diate service and glory. Yet, is there no mercy in this 
appointment ? Has he no respect to your advantage ? Yes, 
much every way. Be assured, he needs neither your ser- 
vices nor you. You can neither shake nor establish his 
throne. It is for your sake that he appoints a Sabbath ; it 
is then that he meets you with more abundant instruction. 
Thousands adore him in heaven for the appointment, which, 
while they sojourned on earth, became the means of pre- 
paring them for their high abode ; and are there not tens 
of thousands, either here or in the world of darkness, 
whose neglect of such advantages has led them on to a 
character perfected in guilt, and to a state that ushers in 
the midnight of despair ? 

Acknowledge, then, the love of God. He hath blessed 
the Sabbath day. It is a day of special grace. The im- 
mortal King prepares inexpressible delights for those who 
keep it holy ; he is well-pleased when his creatures pay 
this mark of reverence and subjection ; he will bless them 
eminently. And you know not how many more of these 
bright opportunities shall dawn. To you, it may be, the 
last has already set, or is at this moment setting. Oh ! 
look, before you sink into the gloom of death ; look to the 



2 REMEMBER THE . SABBATH DAY. 

mercy of God in Jesus, and say, " Lord, it is enough ; 
fain would I rebel no longer ; subdue and pardon me at 
once." If such a prayer ascended from your heart, we 
should have every thing to hope. No more would you 
misspend a Sabbath, either by unnecessary absence from 
public worship, or by unsuitable employment on returning 
from it. You would anxiously inquire, " Where can I 
find the faithful minister, who cares for my soul, and will 
feed it with the bread of life ?" Having found one, you 
would prove your gratitude by the constancy of your at- 
tendance, by aiming to fix in your memory the truths 
imparted, and by praying over the services of the day. 
You would not exclaim, " What a weariness it is to serve 
the Lord !" You would find no temptation to ask, " Where 
is the harm, if I spend a part of the day in some diver- 
sions ?" Your conscience would suggest, that, as far as 
you did so, you ceased to keep the day holy ; reason might 
tell you that those diversions would effectually blot out the 
solemnities you had quitted, and a still higher principle 
would create such a preference for religious duties, that 
you would treat every thing which invited you away, not 
as a pleasing amusement, but as a deadly foe. 

It is well for you, that you live in a country where the 
Sabbath is respected. We speak not of the manner in 
which it is to be feared the greater part express this re- 
spect, but of the opportunities that offer to those who are 
willing. Some are undoubtedly less favored than others ; 
but there are few, especially in cities, towns, and their 
neighborhoods, who are entirely without opportunities ; and 
even tho^e who are farther removed from public ordinances, 
whose families confine them principally to the house, and 
whose stations there are the least favorable to religion — 
even such may manifest their good- will. Let them so 
much the more abound in reading the Scriptures and in 
secret prayer. Perhaps the Lord of the Sabbath may re- 
move the hinderances ; or, if he please, the word of life 
shall be brought nearer to them, or their incumbrances 
shall lessen, or, what is better than all, their family con- 
nections shall become like-minded with themselves. And 
M'ho so likely to obtain this enlargement of privileges, as 
those who make the best use of privileges already in their 
])ossession ? 



REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY. 3 

Mournful as the neglect of the Sabbath is, and widely 
as the crime prevails, let us be thankful that the Sabbath 
still exists, and that there are persons who know its value. 
It was well observed by Archbishop Sharp, that, " were it 
not for that happy institution, we should hardly see any 
face of religion among us ; and, in a little time, should 
scarcely be distinguished from heathen." A Sabbath ! it 
is the Christian's feast-day. It brings into view every 
thing that purifies, consoles, exalts, and makes happy. 
With angels he celebrates thereon the creation of the world, 
and the resurrection of his Saviour. His affections towards 
his fellow-worshippers are drawn into lively exercise, he 
feels himself to be their kinsman, he shares with them the 
enjoyments of divine communion, and learns how to im- 
prove all the remaining days of the week. As the morning 
approaches, his happy soul meets it with a welcome, and 
were he to speak, it would be in language like what we 
borrow from a poet : 

Another six days' work is done. 
Another Sabbath is begun ; 
Return, my soul, enjoy thy rest. 
Improve the day thy God has blest. 

Oh that our thoughts and thanks may rise. 
As grateful incense, to the skies ; 
And draw from heaven that sweet repose. 
Which none but he that feels it knows. 

This heavenly calm within the breast 
Is the dear pledge of glorious rest, 
Which for the church of God remains, 
The end of cares — the end of pains. 

In holy duties let the day, 
In holy pleasures, pass away ; 
How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend. 
In hope of one that ne'er shall end ! 



TESTIMONY OF SIR MATTHEW HALE TO THE GOOD EFFECTS 
RESULTING FROM A STRICT OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH J 
EXTRACTED FROM A LETTER TO HIS GRANDCHILDREN. 

"I will acquaint you with a truth, that above forty 
years' experience and strict observation of myself have 
assuredly taught me. I have been near fifty years a man 
as much conversant in business, and that of moment and 
importance, as most men ; and I will assure you I was 



4 REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY. 

never under any inclination to fanaticism, enthusiasm, or 
superstition. 

" In all this time I have most industriously observed, in 
myself and my concerns, these three things : 

" 1. Whenever I have undertaken any secular business 
on the Lord's day, which was not absolutely and indispen- 
sably necessary, that business never prospered and suc- 
ceeded well with me. Nay, if I had set myself that day 
but to forecast or design any temporal business, to be done 
or performed afterward, though such forecast were just and 
honest in itself, and had as fair a prospect as could be ex- 
pected, yet I have always been disappointed in the effecting 
of it, or in the success of it. So that it grew almost pro- 
verbial with me, when any importuned me to any secular 
business that day, to answer them, that if they expected it 
to succeed amiss, then they might desire my undertaking 
of it upon that day. And this was so certain an observa- 
tion of mine, that I feared to think of any secular business 
that day, because the resolution then taken would be dis- 
appointed or unsuccessful. 

" 2. That always, the more closely I applied myself to 
the duties of the Lord's day, the more happy and success- 
ful were my business and employments of the week follow- 
ing. So that 1 could, from the loose or strict observance 
of that day, take a just prospect and true calculation of my 
temporal success in the ensuing week. 

'' 3. Though my hands and mind have been as full of 
secular business, both before and since I was a judge, as it 
may be any man's in England, yet I never wanted time in 
my six days to ripen and fit myself for the business and em- 
ployments I had to do, though I borrowed not one minute 
from the Lord's day to prepare for it, by study or otherwise. 
But on the other hand, if I had at any time borrowed from 
this day any time for my secular employments, I found it 
did further me less than if I had left it alone ; and there- 
fore, when some years' experience, upon a most attentive 
and vigilant observation, had given me this instruction, I 
grew peremptorily resolved never in this kind to make a 
breach upon the Lord's day, which I have now strictly ob- 
served for above thirty years. This relation is most cer- 
tainly and experimentally true, and hath been declared by 
me to hundreds of persons, as I now declare it to you." 



I¥o. 21 

THE 



CLOSET COMPANION; 



A HELP TO SELF-EXAMINATION. 



DIRECTIONS. 

I. Make conscience of 'performing this duty. The neces- 
sity of it will appear, if you consider, 1. God has repeatedly 
commanded it. 2. The people of God have always prac- 
tised It. 3. There is great danger of being deceived ; for 
every grace in the Christian has its counterfeit in the hypo- 
crite. 4. Many professors have been deceived, by neglect- 
ing it; and are ruined for ever. 5. Your comfort depends, 
in a great measure, upon knowing your real state. 

II. Be very serious in the performance of it. Set your 
heart to the solemn work, as in the presence of the 
Searcher of hearts, who will judge the secrets of all men, 
in the great day. Heaven and hell are no trifles. The 
question before you is no less than this : Am I a child of 
wrath, or a child of God ? If I should die when I have 
done reading this, where would this precious soul of mine 
be, for ever ? 

III. Be impartial, or jo\i lose your labor; nay, you 
confirm your mistakes. On the other hand, resolve to 
know the worst of yourself, the veiy worst. Some are 
afraid to know the worst, lest they should fall into despair ; 
and this fear makes them partial. Suppose the worst, and 
if, after serious examination, it should appear that you 
have neither faith nor repentance, yet, remember, your 
case is not desperate. The door of mercy is ever open to 
the returning sinner. It remains a blessed truth, that who- 
ever Cometh to Christ, shall in no icise he cast out. 

VOL. I. 12 



2, CLOSET COMPANION. 

On the other hand, be willing to know the best of your- 
self, as well as the worst. Do not suppose that humility 
requires you to overlook your graces, and notice only your 
corruptions. 

IV. Judge of your graces by tlieir nature^ rather than 
their degree. You are to try inherent graces by the touch- 
stone., not by the measure. The greatest degree is to be 
desired and aimed at, but the smallest degree is matter of 
praise and rejoicing. Do not conclude there is no grace, 
because there is some corruption ; or, that the Spirit does 
not strive against the flesh, because the flesh strives against 
the Spirit. 

V. Let not the issue of this trial depend at all upon 
your knowledge of the exact time of your conversion, or 
the particular minister or sermon first instrumental in it. 
Many are wrought upon by slow and insensible degrees. 
Grace increases like the daylight. No man doubts wheth- 
er the sun shines at noon, because he did not see the day 
break. 

VI. Take this caution, lest you stumble at the thresh- 
old. The question before you is not, Will God accept and 
save me, though a vile sinner, if I believe on Christ ? But 
you are to inquire. Am I now, at this time, in an accepted 
state? The former question is already resolved by God 
himself, who cannot lie. His word positively declares, that 
every returning sinner shall be accepted and saved. This, 
being determined, is not to be questioned. But you are to 
try, whether you are now in a state of grace. 

VII. Take care, that you do not trust in your self-ex- 
amination, rather than in Christ. There is a proneness in 
our natures to put duties in the place of Christ. 

VIII. Be not content merely to read over the following 
questions, but stop and dwell on each ; nor suffer yourself 
to proceed to another, till you have put the first home to 
your conscience, and have got an honest answer to it. 

IX. Examine youmeX^ frequently. Seek every oppor- 
tunity to do it. The Lord's day evening is a most suitable 
season. The oftener you perform this work, the easier it 
will become. If you do not obtain satisfaction at first, you 
^^Yi by repeated endeavors ; and a scriptural, solid hope 
will amply repay your utmost labor. 



CLOSET COMPANION. S 

QUESTIONS 

RESPECTING FAITH AND ITS FRUITS. 

I. Do I BELIEVE ON THE SoN OF GoD ? Surely this 
is an important question. My Bible assures me, that " he 
that believeth shall be saved." Do I then believe ? And 
here let me carefully distinguish between faith and its 
fruits. What is faith ? The simple meaning of faith is, 
believing ; and believing always refers to something spoken 
or written. Divine faith is the belief of a divine testimony, 
as John speaks, " He that hath received his testimony, hath 
set to his seal that God is irue.'^ And on the contrary, 
the Apostle John says, " He that believeth not God, hath 
made him a liar, because he believeth not the record that 
God gave of his Son. And this is the record, that God 
hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son." 
I must first believe the truth of God, as revealed in his 
word; I must credit his report, and believe his testimony 
concerning Christ ; and then receive and trust in Christ, so 
revealed, for my own personal salvation. But to be more 
particular : 

1. Do I really believe that I am a fallen creature — that 
I derived from Adam a nature wholly corrupt, depraved, 
and sinful — and that I am a child of wrath, by nature, 
even as others ? Have I ever considered the unspotted and 
infinite purity and holiness of God's nature, and that he 
abhors sin wherever he sees it ? Have I considered that 
his law, contained in the Ten Commandments, is a copy 
and transcript of that holy nature ; and by comparing my- 
self with that eternal rule of right, have I been led to see 
my horrible wickedness and vileness ? O what multitudes 
of sins have I committed in thought, word, and deed ! Am 
I really sick of sin, sorry for sin, and do I abhor myself as 
a vile sinner? 

2. Have I duly considered what my sins have de- 
served ? Do I sincerely think, that if God had sent me to 
hell because of my sins, he would have done justly? 

3. Do I see my utter helplessness, as well as my sin 
and misery? Am I perfectly assured, that I cannot by 
any works, duties, or sufferings of my own, save myself; 



4 CLOSET COMPANION. 

but that, if ever I am saved, it must be the effect of free 
mercy ? 

4. Are the eyes of my understanding enlightened to 
know Christ? What do I think of Christ? Who is he? 
Do I believe that he is God manifest in the flesh, uniting in 
his one person the human and divine natures : man, that he 
might suffer ; and God, that he might redeem ? Do I know 
why he suffered ; that it was to make satisfaction to divine 
justice for the injury done to God's law and government 
by man's sin ? Do I believe, that the Father " is well 
pleased for his righteousness' sake ; and that he has magni- 
fied the law, and made it honorable ?" Do I therefore look 
upon Christ as the only way to the Father; as the only 
foundation to build on, the only fountain to wash in ? Am 
I persuaded of his ability " to save, to the uttermost, all 
who come to God by him?" 

5. Am I satisfied, from God's own word and promise, 
that whoever, let him be ever so vile and wicked, cometh 
to Christ by faith, shall be saved ? — the promise being with- 
out exception: "Whosoever believeth on him shall not be 
ashamed." 

6. Am I led and assisted, by the Spirit of God, to be- 
lieve this general promise, in my oivn particular case ? As 
God has made no exceptions, why should I except myself? 
True, no tongue can tell how vile I have been ; only God 
knows the greatness of my sins, and the wickedness of my 
heart ! But shall I then reject Christ, and despair, and so add 
to my other sins the worst and greatest sin of all, wibelief? 
God forbid ! '• It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all ac- 
ceptation, that Christ came to save sinners." Do I then, sen- 
sible of my sin, misery, and helplessness, look upon Christ 
as an all-sufficient Saviour, and commit my precious and 
immortal soul to him, relying upon him only, and endeavor- 
ing to rely upon him confidently, for eternal salvation ? 

Having thus examined my "faith, let me proceed impar- 
tially to examine the fruits and effects of my faith. Many 
pretend to faith, whose works give the lie to their preten- 
sions; let me, therefore, "show my faith by my works." 

Question II. What are the Fruits of my Faith ? 
Does it produce those effects, which the word of God points 
out, as the proof and evidence of its sincerity, with respect 
to my conscience, my heart, and my life ? 



CLOSET COBIPANION. 5 

1. What are the effects of my faith, as to my con- 
science? Do I rest from my former legal attempt to justify 
myself, going about to establish my own righteousness ? 
Am I satisfied with Christ's righteousness, as a complete 
title to glory? I read of "peace in believing." Have I 
peace in my conscience ? Being justified by faith, have I 
peace with God ? When my soul is alarmed by the re- 
membrance of former sins, or those lately committed, how 
do I obtain peace ? Is it by forgetting them as soon as I 
can, and then fancying that God has forgotten them too ? 
Is it by resolving to do so no more, and so making future 
obedience atone for past offences ? Is it by performing 
religious duties, and so making amends ? Or is it by a 
fresh application to the pardoning, peace-speaking blood of 
Christ ? When my sins stare me in the face, and my 
duties themselves appear sins, whence, O my soul, pro- 
ceeds thy comfort ? Is it the blood of Christ, that " purges 
my conscience from dead works ?" Does faith in the 
atonement free me from the dreadful apprehension of con- 
demnation and wrath due to sin ? Do I, or do I not, look 
up to God, through the death of his Son, with freedom and 
delight ? If I have not this peace, why is it ? What hin- 
ders ? Either I do not clearly understand the nature of the 
Gospel, or I do not fully believe it; for it provides for every 
possible case. If I have this, blessed be God for it ! Lord, 
help me to keep it, that it may keep me. Lord, I believe, 
help thou my unbelief. 

2. What are the effects of my faith, as to my heart and 
its affections ? 

(1.) Do I love God the Father? Do I think of him, and 
go to him, as a loving Father in Christ ? Have I the spirit 
of adoption, so that I cry, Ahha, Father? Do I love him as 
the Father of mercies, the God of hope, the God of peace, 
the God of love 1 

(2.) Do I love Christ? To those who believe, he is 
precious ; is he precious to me ? Do I see infinite beauty 
in his person ? Is he the chief among ten thousands to 
me, and altogether lovely ? Do I admire the length, and 
breadth, and depth, and height of his love ? Is the language 
of my very soul, None hut Christ, none hut Christ? Is it 
my grief and shame, that I love him no more ? 

(3.) Do I love the Holy Spirit? Do I honor him as the 



6 CLOSET COMPANION. 

great Author of light and life, grace and comfort ? Do I 
maintain a deep sense of my dependence on his agency in 
all my religious performances ? Do I desire my heart to 
be his temple ? Am I cautious lest I quench his holy mo- 
tions, or grieve him by my sins ? Am I sensible, that with- 
out his influence I cannot pray, hear, read, communicate, 
nor examine myself as 1 ought ? 

(4.) Do I love God's law ? Do I delight in the law of 
the Lord, after the inward man, not wishing it less strict 
and holy, but loving it because it is holy ? Am I as will- 
ing to take Christ for my King to rule over me, as for my 
Priest to atone for me ? Do I hunger and thirst after 
righteousness ? Do I pant, and long, and pray to be holy ? 
Do I wish to be holy, as I wish to be happy ? Do I hate 
all sin, especially that sin which most easily besets me, and 
labor daily to mortify it, and to deny myself? Do I sigh 
for complete deliverance from remaining corruption, and 
rejoice in the hope of it through a holy Jesus ? Do I long 
for heaven, that there I may be satisfied with his likeness ? 
(5.) Do I love God's people? Can I say to Christ, as 
Ruth to Naomi, " Thy people shall be my people ?" Do 
I love them, because they love Christ, and bear his image ? 
Do I feel a union of spirit with them, though they may not 
be of my party, or think exactly as I do ? Can I say, " I 
know that I have passed from death to life, because I love 
the brethren ?'"' 

3. What are the effects of my faith, as to my daily 
walk and conversation ? The word of God tells me, that he 
who is in Christ is a "new creature; old things are passed 
away ; all things are become new.^' " If ye love me," 
said Christ, "keep my commandments." Let me review 
the commandments, and see how my love to Christ is mani- 
fested by my obedience. 

(1.) Do I know and acknowledge God to be the only 
true God, and my God, and do I worship and glorify him 
accordingly ? Is he the supreme object of my desire and 
delight? Do I trust him, hope in liim, love to think of 
him ? Do I pray to him, do I praise him, am I careful to 
please him ? 

(2.) Do I receive, observe, and keep pure and entire, 
all such religious worship and ordinances as God hath ap- 
pointed in his word ? How is it with me in secret prayer, 



CLOSLT COMPANION. 7 

in family prayer, in public prayer ? With what views do 
I go to hear the preached Gospel, and what good do I get 
by it? 

(3.) Do I make a holy and reverent use of God's names, 
titles, attributes, ordinances, word, and works ; avoiding the 
profanation or abuse of any thing whereby God makes 
himself known ? 

(4.) Do I keep holy to God the Sabbath-day, resting all 
that day from worldly employments, recreations, and con- 
versation ? And do I spend the wJioIe time in public and 
private exercises of divine worship, except so much as is to 
be taken up in the works of necessity and mercy ? Is the 
Sabbath my delight, and are the ordinances of God's house 
very precious to my soul ? 

(5.) Do I endeavor to preserve the honor, and perform 
all the duties, which I owe to my superiors, inferiors, or 
equals ? remembering that true religion makes good hus- 
bands, wives, children, masters, and servants. If I am 
really holy, I am relatwely holy. 

(6.) Do I use all lawful means to preserve my own life 
and the life of others ? Do I avoid all intemperance ? Do 
I resist passionate tempers? Do I labor to promote the 
welfare of men's souls ? Do I exercise love and compas- 
sion towards the poor and distressed, according to my 
ability? Do I freely forgive those who have injured me? 
Do I pray for them ; and instead of hating, do I love my 
very enemies ? 

(7.) Do I earnestly strive to preserve my own and my 
neighbor's chastity, in heart, speech, and behavior; avoid- 
ing all incentives to lust, such as intemperance in food, 
lascivious songs, books, pictures, dancing, plays, and vile 
company ; remembering that my body is the temple of the 
Holy Ghost ? 

(8.) Do I use the lawful means of procuring and fur- 
thering the wealth and outward estate of myself and others ? 
Do I abhor every species of robbery and injustice ? Am I 
strictly and conscientiously honest in all my dealings, not 
overreaching nor defrauding any person, in any degree ? 

(9.) Do I studiously maintain and promote truth be- 
tween man and man; not only abhorring perjury, but 
hating all falsehood ? And do I, as a professor of religion, 
avoid both ludicrous and pernicious lies, being as tender of 



8 CLOSET COMPANION. 

my neighbor's character as of my own ? Am I very cau- 
tious in making promises, and very careful to keep them ? 

(10.) Am I contented with the condition God has allot- 
ted me, believing that he orders all things for the best 1 
And do I avoid envying my neighbor's happiness, or inordi- 
nately desiring any thing that is his ? 

CoNCLrsiON. And now, dear reader, what is the result 
of your inquiry ? Have you made a solemn pause at the 
close of every question, and obtained an honest answer ? 
And are you, notwithstanding many imperfections, able to 
conclude, that your faith is of God's operation, and proved 
so to be, by its holy fruits ? Then take the comfort, and 
give God the glory. 

But if, on the other hand, the evidence of Scripture and 
your conscience is against you, and you are forced to con- 
clude that your heart is not right with God — then for God's 
sake, and for your soul's sake, cry instantly and mightily 
to him to have mercy upon you ; remembering, that though 
your case is awful, it is not desperate ; and that still you, 
even you, coming to Christ, shall in no wise be cast out. 

SELF-EXAMINATION. 

'Tis a point I long to know. 

Oft it causes anxious thought; 
Do I love the Lord, or no 1 

Am I his, or am I not ] 

Could my heart so hard remain. 

Prayer a task and burden prove. 
Every trifle give me pain. 

If I knew a Saviour's love ? 

Lord, decide the doubtful case ! 

Thou, who art thy people's Sun, 
Shine upon thy work of grace. 

If it be indeed begun. 

Let me love thee more and more. 

If I love at all, I pray ; 
If I have not loved before, 

Help me to begin to-day. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 33. 

THE 

EARL OF ROCHESTER. 

This nobleman was distinguished as a great wit and a 
great sinner ; and before he died, as a great penitent. Such 
he is described by the excellent Bishop Burnet, who person- 
ally knew him and attended him on his death-bed. 

' He had advanced to an uncommon degree of impiety, 
being a zealous advocate of Atheism. He had revelled 
likewise in the depths of debauchery, and had openly ridi- 
culed all virtue and religion. But when, like the prodigal 
in the Gospel, he came to know himself, horror filled his 
mind, and drew from him the keenest self-reproaches. He 
was, in his own eyes, the vilest wretch on which the sun 
ever shone ; and often wished that he had been a link-boy, 
a beggar, or a captive in a dungeon, rather than that he 
should so grossly have offended God. 

Often when arguing with peculiar vehemence against 
God and religion, he felt the sting of an accusing con- 
science. At an atheistical meeting in the house of a person 
of quality, he undertook to be the champion of infidelity, 
and received the applause of the company ; but his con- 
science so reproached him, that he exclaimed to himself, 
" Good God ! that a man who walks upright, who sees the 
wonderful works of God, and has the use of his reason — 
should bid defiance to his Creator !" 

These successive convictions, however, gradually wore 
off; and it was not till his last illness, which continued 
about nine weeks, that he appears to have been truly con- 
vinced and savingly converted. Then he saw " the exceed- 
ing sinfulness of sin," and learned the value of the atone- 
ment on which his hopes of pardon were founded. '' Shall 
the joys of heaven," he exclaimed, " be conferred on me ? 
O, mighty Saviour, never, but through thy infinite love and 
satisfaction ! O never, but by the purchase of thy blood !" 
The Scriptures, which had been so often the subject of 
his merriment, now secured his esteem, and inspired de- 
light ; for they had spoken to his heart : the seeming ab- 
surdhies and contradictions, fancied by men of corrupt and 
reprobate judgments, vanished; and he was brought to re- 
ceive the truth in the love of it. The fifty-third chapter of 

VOL. I. 12* 



EARL OF ROCHESTER. 



Isaiah, which was repeatedly read to him by Rev. Mr. Par- 
sons, was made particularly useful to him. Comparing it 
with the history of our Saviour's passion, he saw the fulfil- 
ment of a prophecy written several ages before, and which 
the Jews who blasphemed Jesus still kept in their hands as 
an inspired book. He confessed to Bishop Burnet, that as 
he heard it read " he felt an inward force upon him, which 
so enlightened his mind and convinced him, that he could 
resist it no longer ; for the words had an authority which 
shot like rays or beams in his mind ; so that he was not only 
convinced by the reasoning, which satisfied his understand- 
ing, but by a imwer which did so effectually constrain him, 
that he ever after as firmly believed in his Saviour as if he 
had seen him in the clouds." 

He had this chapter read so often to him that he " got it 
by heart, and went through a great part of it," says the 
Bishop, " in discourse with me, with a sort of heavenly 
pleasure, giving me his reflections on it ; some of which I 
remember : ' MHw hath believed our report V ' Here,' he 
said, ' was foretold the opposition the Gospel was to meet with 
from such wretches as he was.' ' He hath no form nor come- 
liness ; and ichen ice shall see him, there is no beauty that we 
should desire him.' On this he said, ' The meanness of his 
appearance and person has made vain and foolish people 
disparage him, because he came not in such a fool's coat 
as they delighted in.' Many other observations he made, 
which were not noted down ; enlarging on many passages 
with a degree of heavenly pleasure, and applying various 
parts of it to his own humiliation and comfort. ' O, my 
God,' he would say, ' can such a creature as I, who have 
denied thy being and contemned thy power, be accepted by 
thee ? Can there be mercy and pardon for me ? Will God 
©wn such a wretch as I am ?' " 

His faith now rested on Christ alone for salvation, and 
often would he entreat God to strengthen it ; crying out, 
" Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief." The grand 
enemy of souls failed not to assault him with many tempta- 
tions ; " But I thank God," said he, " that I abhor them all ; 
and by the power of grace, which 1 am confident is sufficient 
for me, I have overcome them. It is the malice of the devil 
because I am rescued from him ; and it is the goodness of 
God that frees me from all my spiritual enemies." 



EARL OF ROCHESTER. 



This noble convert gave many proofs of the soundness 
of his repentance ; among which was his earnest desire to 
prevent the evil effects of his former writings and example. 
He gave a strict charge to the persons in whose custody he 
left his papers, that all his profane and lewd writings and 
pictures should be burned ; and he desired all who attended 
him to publish abroad, that all men might know " how se- 
verely God had disciplined him for his sins by his afflicting 
hand ; acknowledging that his sufferings would have been 
more just had they been ten times more heavy." His former 
visitations, he confessed, had produced some slight resolutions 
of reforming, arising from the present painful consequences 
of his sins ," but now he declared that he had other senti- 
ments of things, and acted upon other principles ; that he 
possessed so great an abhorrence of all sin, that he would 
not commit a known sin to gain a kingdom. 

To his former companions in sin he sent awful mes- 
sao-es ; and to some who visited him, he gave the most sol- 
emn warnings. To one gentleman in particular he said, 
" O ! remember that you contemn God no more. He is an 
avenging God, and will visit you for your sins ; and will, I 
hope^in mercy touch your conscience, sooner or later, as 
lie has done mine. You and I have been friends and sin- 
ners together a great while, therefore I am the more free 
with you. We have been all mistaken in our conceits, and 
our persuasions have been false and groundless ; therefore 
God grant you repentance!'* Seeing the same person 
again, he said, " Perhaps you were disobliged by my plain- 
ness yesterday ; I spake the words of truth and soberness ; 
I hope God w'ill touch your heart." 

Knowing the rock on which he himself had foundered, 
he expressed an earnest wish that his son might never 
prove one of those profane and licentious wits ^^^o pride 
themselves in denying God, and scoffing at religion ; and 
that all his family might be educated in the fear of God. 
The following recantation he subscribed, and ordered it to 
be published to the world : 

" For the benefit of all those whom I may have drawn into sin by 
my example and encouragement, I leave to the world this my last dec- 
laration, which I deliver in the presence of the great God, who knows 
the secrets of all hearts, and before whom I am to be judged ; that 
from the bottom of my soul I detest and abhor the whole course of rny 
former wicked life : and that I think I can never sufficiently admire 



4 EARL OF ROCHESTER. 

the goodness of God, who has given me a true sense of my pernicious 
opinions and vile practices ; by which I have hitherto lived without 
hope, and without God in the world ; have been an open enemy to 
Jesus Christ, doing the utmost despite to the holy Spirit of grace ; and 
that the greatest testimony of my charity to such is, to warn them, in 
the name of God, and as they regard the welfare of their immortal souls, 
no more to deny his being or his providence, or despise his goodness ; no 
more to make a mock of sin, or contemn the pure and excellent religion 
of my ever-blessed Redeemer ; through whose merits alone, I, one of 
the greatest of sinners, do yet hope for mercy and forgiveness. Amen. 

" J. ROCHESTER. 

'* Delivered and signed June 19, 1680, in the presence of 

" ANN ROCHESTER. 
"R. PARSONS." 

« 

We now return to the death-bed experience of this con- 
verted nobleman, and mark the power of religion upon his 
mind in that important season. He seemed to have no de- 
sire to live, except to testify the truth of his repentance, and 
to bring glory to God. " If God," said he, " should spare 
me yet a little longer here, I hope to bring glory to his name 
proportionably to the dishonor I have done him in my whole 
life past ; and particularly by endeavoring to convince 
others, and to assure them of the danger of their condition, 
if they continue impenitent ; and to tell them how gra- 
ciously God has dealt with me." 

And when he came within the nearer views of death, 
about three or four days before his departure, he said, " I 
shall now die. But O what unspeakable glories do I see ! 
what joys beyond thought or expression am I sensible of! 
I am assured of God's mercy to me, through Jesus Christ. 
O how I long to die, and to be with my Saviour !" 

Thus died this eminent subject of regenerating grace, 
July 26, 1680, being only in his 34th year ; yet so was life 
worn away by his long illness and former licentious course, 
that nature gave up without a struggle. 

The account published by Bishop Burnet gives the par- 
ticulars of his conversion more at length, and the various 
conversations on divine things between them, under the 
title of " Some Passages in the Life and Death of John, 
Earl of Rochester ;" of which the late Dr. Johnson en- 
tertained so high an opinion that he says, " The critic 
ought to read it for its excellence, the philosopher for its 
arguments, and the saint for its piety." 



]¥o. S3. 



aOD A REFUGE 



There is not a son or daughter of Adam but has wants 
and woes. While the desire of happiness is predominant 
in every breast, there are multitudes who seek it by a life 
of continual labor and solicitude, and never find it. They 
form an erroneous judgment in respect both to the nature 
of real happiness, and the means of obtaining it. Man is 
possessed of two natures. He has an animal nature, in 
common with other living creatures on the earth ; and a 
spiritual, immortal nature, in common with angels. To 
make man happy, the wants of both natures must be sup- 
plied ; and he must find some certain and sufficient refuge 
from the woes to which he is exposed. The union of soul 
and body is so close, and the sympathy between them so 
great, that wherever one is entirely neglected in the pro- 
visions for happiness which we make, the other will be a 
sufferer. Hence arises the dissatisfaction and wretched- 
ness of those, who, while they pursue carnal enjoyments, 
make no preparation to satisfy the wants of their immortal 
souls. 

When we look for a refuge in creatures, they always 
deceive us ; but of this they give us warning. God has so 
formed everything about us, that it speaks the language 
of admonition. Yonder ancient house, as we pass it, tells 
us that time impairs the structure reared by mortal hands ; 
it whispers in the ear of reflection, that those who built it, 
and probably looked for peace and happiness within its 
walls, now moulder in the grave. Yonder ancient tree 
tells us, that he who planted it, and multitudes who have 
sat beneath its shade, are now in the shadow of death. 
When we pass the repository of the dead, innumerable 
voices issue from the tombs, and warn us that we have no 
refuge — no abiding-place on earth. The very ground on 
which we tread every day admonishes us that it has been 
trodden by feet which are now undistinguishable from it. 
The constant changes and succession which we behold in 



2 . - GOD A REFUGE. 

all the world around us, warn us that there is no stabil- 
ity or security of any permanent happiness in terrestrial 
objects. 

The man who cannot say, " My refuge is in God," 
cannot say he has any refuge. I ask you where you find 
a refuge in pain and distress ? From these you cannot fly. 
It is not more certain that the sun will pursue his course 
to-day, than that these will overtake you. Will you fly to 
a physician ? But how numberless are the cases in which 
no art can assist you ; and how certain it is, that a time 
will come when such a refuge will only disappoint your 
hopes. Your past pleasures and your present possessions 
will then serve only to convince you of their vanity, because 
they cannot save you, be your cry ever so strong. You 
have lost your property on the ocean, by accident, or by 
fraud ; you find yourself exposed to all the wants and mor- 
tifications of poverty, and your family involved with you in 
suffering. Where do you find a refuge ? In the charity 
of your fellow-men ? This is a cold comfort. It is one 
which neither your pride will admit, nor their generosity 
extend, so as to coUvStitute any adequate recompense for 
your losses. You are persecuted by injustice, assailed by 
the tongue of slander, or have exposed yourself to the en- 
mity of those who can do you much injury. Where is your 
refuge ? Is it an appeal to the tribunals of your country ? 
But these are so imperfect that they will neither blunt the 
dart, nor extract the poison with which it has racked your 
breast. 

Your country is divided by hostile parties, is threat- 
ened by foreign invasion, or is actually engaged in war; 
you tremble for the security of youlr family and friends, 
of your life, liberty, and property. Where is your refuge ? 
Is it in the hope that your party or your country will pre- 
vail ? But this is altogether uncertain ; and if it were cer- 
tain, the victory may cost you the loss of all for which you 
are alarmed. 

The wife of your bosom, the dear child on which your 
affections are set, a beloved parent, or an affectionate rela- 
tive, is taken away by death. Where is your refuge ? In 
complaints ? These will increase your misery. In weep- 
ing? This will administer no consolation. In plunging 
into worldly cares and pleasures ? This will only be open- 
ing one source of misery to shut up another. 



GOD A REFUGE. 3 

Your immortal soul, deluded so often in its hopes of 
happiness from carnal pursuits, will sometimes feel an 
aching void ; the thoughts of guilt, of immortality, the fear 
of future judgments, will sometimes plant thorns in your 
pillow. Where is your refuge ? Will you drown all these 
anxieties in oblivion ? Will you go to mirth, and wine, and 
thoughtless company, that you may cast them away ? After 
all, they will return. There will be seasons in which they 
\vill overwhelm you ; and on a death-bed, and in eternity, 
they will be a thousand fold worse than ever. 

A few days more, and you will be gasping for breath ; 
all human aid and skill will be useless ; there is only 
another step, and you are on the ocean of eternity. Your 
pleasures, your riches, your gay friends, your honors, are 
now so many daggers to your soul, because they have 
drawn you away from God, and left you without any sup- 
port in his place. Where is your refuge ? Unhappy man ! 
you have none. God will not receive you, when you have 
trifled with him so long ; and the world is worse than no- 
thing. You have only to draw another breath, and awake 
in the realms of despair. 

You cannot say that I am describing fictions of the im- 
agination to alarm you. The evils which I have enumer- 
ated are, in almost every instance, among those which no 
son or daughter of Adam can escape. Pain, distress, loss 
of friends, apprehensions of insecurity from national con- 
vulsions, despondencies at future prospects, agitations about 
death, which will tear you from every beloved earthly 
object — are woes from which no station nor circumstances 
will exempt you. I speak of real and certain evils — evils 
from which, if your peace is not made with God, you have 
not found, and cannot find, a refuge. 

You confess yourself, that, after all your efforts to find 
happiness from enjoyments of this world, you are disap- 
pointed. Thousands of times you have set your affections 
on objects which you have not been able to attain ; and as 
many times more you have found anticipation far exceed 
actual enjoyment. When you know that the most desira- 
ble objects on earth, if already in your possession, may not 
continue so for a single hour, it casts a gloom over your 
fairest hopes, which cannot be dissipated. 

You have been driven about from object to object; 
one disappointment has followed another ; and the only 



4 GOD A REFUGE. 

refuge you have found is in beginning the pursuit of some 
new object, which will end just as all the others have done. 
You are tossing from billow to billow on this tempestuous 
ocean, and the most you can expect is only a few days of 
fair weather before you are shipwrecked, for you are not 
directing your course to any haven which can afford you 
the least security. 

You may wander through life in this hopeless manner 
after a resting-place, but, after all, there is no refuge but 
God. There is nothing short of him which can satisfy 
the desires of an immortal mind. The soul which ema- 
nated from God, cannot be satisfied without returning to 
him. It may be stupefied, benumbed, blinded, hardened, 
but cannot be satisfied. If you send me for a refuge to 
all the boasted wisdom of a philosopher whose fame has 
filled the earth, it will not meet my wants, nor support me 
under the sufferance of my woes. Two great systems have 
divided that class of men, and neither is at all adequate to 
the end in view. The one bids me harden myself against 
the wants and woes of life, and seek a refuge in insensibil- 
ity. But when I ask for a refuge, I ask for support and 
comfort in all my trials as a man ; and not to be turned 
into a block. The other bids me bury all my woes in car- 
nal pleasure. But in sickness, in poverty, in misfortune, 
on a death-bed, when I most need a refuge, it is beyond my 
power to covet or indulge in such pleasures. Beyond all 
this, my nature will not support such a course. Sensual 
pleasures bring disease, disgust, and melancholy. They 
debase my soul, and make me like the brutes that perish. 
I ask for a refuge in the time of my woes, but I am directed 
to one which I cannot then enjoy. I ask for a refuge in 
my woes, that I may bear them as a man, and I am di- 
rected to become a hrute. 

The soul that has been brought to feel its need of sup- 
port, can never find a refuge here. All the wisdom of 
men, and all the objects of time and sense, cannot dis- 
cover or afford one. Every prop on which you lean will 
fall ; and, if you have no other security, your case is de- 
plorable indeed. 

When you contemplate the scene before you, and see 
the evils to which you are exposed, if you have the fears 
or feelings of a reasonable being, methinks you cannot but 
desire to find a sufficient refuge. Such a one the Psalmist 



GOD A REFUGE. 5 

points out : " My refuge is in God." He wrote this when 
his enemies were lying in wait to destroy him, and it was 
probable, according to human appearance, that he would 
fall into their hands. In the midst of these expected calam- 
ities, he found a refuge in God. He fled to it, was satisfied 
and supported. 

God is the refuge which we all need. The soul that 
flies to God will find a certain, an all-sufficient, and an eternal 
refuge. 

Let us consider these three characteristics. I find my- 
self possessed of powers to enjoy happiness or to suffer 
misery. I am placed in a world where suffering abounds, 
and where it is impossible to avoid it. My past experience 
has satisfied me that I cannot place my hopes of a refuge 
from trouble in anything which this world can afford. It 
is all delusive, unstable, uncertain. I want some support 
under my trials which is not of such a nature ; I want a 
refuge Vv'hich is certain, whither I may fly without the pos- 
sibility of being deceived. The Scriptures tell me, God is 
a refuge. In attentively considering this declaration, I 
find that he will afford that certainty of support which I 
need. My soul is sick with disappointment treading upon 
the heels of disappointment. I want somewhere to fix, so 
that I never shall be compelled to remove again. God will 
afford that certain refuge. God is unchangeable ; " the 
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." The support he 
gives to-day, he can give to-morrow, and for ever. " The 
Creator of the ends of the earth fainteth not, neither is 
weary." Because he is subject to " no variableness nor 
shadow of turning," creatures who fly to him cannot be 
mocked and deluded by seeing the ground of their expecta- 
tions perish. From everlasting he has not changed ; and 
because he is above the operation of all causes which pro- 
duce change, and abideth for ever, therefore he is a certain 
refuge. 

Tired of perpetual change, the soul may fix here. The 
first great object of its inquiry is found. 

When I am satisfied that I have found a refuge which 
is not mutable, and cannot mock my hopes, my next in- 
quiry is, is this a sufficient refuge for all my wants and 
woes ? In further contemplating the character of God, I 
find that he brought all creation into existence by a word 
of his power -, that he constantly supports and directs all 



6 GOL» A REFUGE. 

creatures and worlds ; and that a single word from him can 
change, renew, or annihilate them. I find, therefore, that 
there is not a calamity which I fear, but he can avert it ; 
or if this be not consistent with the course of his providence, 
he can soften it, and grant me a temper of mind which will 
bear me above it. When sickness invades, he can rebuke 
the disease ; when friends or estate are lost, he can pour 
the balm of consolation into my wounded soul ; when king- 
doms are convulsed, he can speak them into peace, or direct 
his judgments to my benefit ; when my sins come up against 
me and bow down my guilty soul, he can separate them 
from me. When death invades, he can make the eye beam 
with hope, which is about to close until the heavens are no 
more : he can enlighten my path through the valley of the 
shadow of death, and translate me from a vale of tears to 
the abodes of glory. Neither heaven, nor earth, nor hell, 
can alter his purposes, or defeat a single promise. If I 
trust in him, I have this security — " All things work to- 
gether for good to them that love God." Here is not only 
support, a power of endurance in time of trouble, but an 
absolute promise that it shall be converted into a blessing. 
When an omnipotent and omnipresent God, who cannot 
deceive, engages this, it is all I can ask. My soul is satis- 
fied with his sufficiency. There cannot be a want but it 
will be supplied, nor a w^oe but it shall be converted into a 
blessing. It is enough. The refuge is all-sufficient. Men 
or angels can ask for nothing more. 

Once more : when I think of annihilation, or of ever 
being exposed to misery at any future season, however dis- 
tant, I find v/ithin me something which shudders at the 
thought. My mind is therefore led to inquire particularly 
whether the refuge which God offers is not only certain and 
all-sufficient for the present, or for ages to come, but whether 
it will be eternally the sante. Here again light and comfort 
break in from on high. "I the Lord change not." From 
everlasting to everlasting he is God. "The mountains 
shall depart, and the hills be removed ; but my kindness 
shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my 
peace be removed, saith the Lord." " Wherefore God, 
willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of promise 
the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath ; 
that by two immutable things, in which it was impossible 
for God to lie, we might have strong con'solation who have 



GOD A REFUGE. 7 

fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before us." " Je- 
sus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for erer." He 
who is the same for ever, will for ever be the same refuge 
he is now. On this awfully momentous subject, then, my 
fears may be hushed, when I have the security of a God 
of truth, that the refuge he affords will never fail. With- 
out such an assurance the soul cannot be satisfied. Grant 
me a certain and all-sufficient refuge for the present, and for 
millions of ages, and then tell me a time may come when 
it may fail, and you take away the anchor of my hope. 
Publish the tidings in heaven that their refuge is not eter- 
nal, and the songs of angels would instantly be converted 
into notes of woe. But blessed be God, such tidings will 
never reach the ear of a creature in the universe who puts 
his trust in him. 

All the important questions, then, about which my anx- 
iety was exercised, are answered. Placed in a world of sin 
and woe, and deeply the subject of both, I find a refuge 
pointed out, where I may find security from them. My 
support is certain, it is all-sufficient, it is eternal. 

Christians, you have fled to this refuge. Of all the in- 
habitants of this lower world, you have the most reason to 
rejoice. While afflictions are the ensigns of Divine indig- 
nation to sinners, you hear, in the midst of your sufferings, 
a voice, saying, " Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." While you are 
called to trials, and wants, and sorrows, omnipotence and 
infinite mercy stand pledged that all things shall work to- 
gether for good. What is it that brightens the countenance 
of that daughter of affliction ? But yesterday she buried 
the husband of her youth ; but a few weeks since she was 
reduced to poverty ; and at this very moment her only sur- 
viving child lies at the point of death. Why, she has just 
been kneeling in her closet, where, if you could have list- 
ened, you might have heard her say, " My cup of afflic- 
tion is indeed full ; yet, gracious God, not my will but thine 
be done. It is thine to command, but mine to obey. While 
thou art with me I am not forsaken. Thou gavest, and 
thou hast taken away, blessed be thy name. I ask for 
nothing more than submission to thy will, and for thy gra- 
cious presence. My Judge, my everlasting Husband, I 
cast myself into the arms of thy mercy. Thou will not 



8 GOD A REFUGE. 

reject my cry in the hour of distress. Let me be thine, 
and I shall be comforted." 

Her cries have entered into the ears of the Lord of 
Sabaoth. He has communed with her from off his mercy- 
seat. She has found a refuge. 

What is it that calls forth a glow of hope from those 
cheeks growing pale in death, and those quivering lips ? 
It is only a moment, and the soul will wing its flight to 
an unknown world, and enter on an unchangeable destiny. 
Why, that soul, like the dying Stephen, has seen heaven 
opened, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God. If 
you could have heard its language, you might have discov- 
ered a cause for its triumph at this moment. " When flesh 
and heart fail me, God is my strength and portion for ever. 
Into thy hands, merciful Saviour, I commit my soul, for 
thou hast redeemed it. ' Though I walk through the valley 
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with 
me.' ' Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.' " Do not be sur- 
prised to see the Christian triumph in the hour of death ; 
he has found his refuge. 

Sinners, whose peace is not made with God, you have 
found no refuge. You are like the troubled sea which 
casts up mire and dirt ; and eternal truth has said, " There 
is no peace to the wicked." Your way is dark and leads 
to hell. If you mean to keep on in your present course, 
to set at defiance all the thunders of Sinai, and to mock 
at the invitations of redeeming mercy, then go your way. 
Eat, drink, and be merry. It is all the good you will have 
in this life ; more than you will have in that which is to 
come. The inevitable hour of danger, distress, and death 
approaches ; and for this hour you have no refuge. O the 
miseries of your condiiion, when there is but a step between 
time and eternity, and when you are hastening away to the 
bar of an offended, almighty Judge, without a refuge from 
his wrath ! If you will mock, mock now ; now is your 
time. On a death-bed you will not mock. In hell you 
will not mock. There even the merciful Jehovah will pur- 
sue you with his thunders. You will then see your need 
of that refuge which has now been set before you, and 
which you now neglect. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 34. 



ON 



KEEPING THE HEAET 



BY THE REV. JOHN FLAVEL. 



The heart of a man is the worst part, before it is regen- 
erated, and the best, afterwards ; it is the seat of principle, 
and fountain of actions ; the eye of God is, and the eye of 
the Christian ought to be, fixed principally upon the heart. 

The greatest difficulty in conversion is, to turn the heart 
to God ; and the greatest difficulty after conversion is, to 
keep the heart with God. Here lies the very stress of re- 
ligion ; this makes the way to life a narrow way, and the 
gate of heaven a strait gate. " Keep thy heart," it is writ- 
ten, " with all diligence ; for out of it are the issues of life." 

By the heart, is meant the soul in general, or, as an apos- 
tle calls it, " the inner man ;" and by keeping the heart, is 
meant the constantly watching over our thoughts, purposes, 
and affections, in order to preserve us from sin, and main- 
tain sweet and free communion with God. 

The manner of performing it is, " with all diligence." 
The word is very emphatical, " Keep with all keeping ;" 
and this vehemence of expression plainly implies how diffi- 
cult it is to keep our hearts, and how dangerous it is to let 
them go. 

The reason or motive is this, " out of it are the issues 
of life." As the spring in a watch sets all the wheels in 
motion, so the heart is the spring and the origin both of good 
and evil. " A good man, out of the good treasure of his 
heart, bringeth forth good things ; and an evil man, out of the 
evil treasure of his heart, bringeth forth evil things." Let 
me then draw your attention to this important truth : 



)3 ON KEEPING THE HEART. 

That the keeping and right managing of the heart, in 
every condition, is tlie great business of the Christianas life. 

To keep the heart, necessarily supposes a previous work 
of sanctification, which has set the heart right by giving it 
a new spiritual bent and inclination. Man, by creation, had 
an understanding to know God, a heart to love him, and a 
will to obey him. Man, by his fall, is become a most dis- 
ordered and rebellious creature, opposing his Maker as the 
first cause, by self-dependence ; as the chief good, by self- 
love ; as the highest Lord, by self-will ; and as the last end, 
by self-seeking : thus man is the reverse of what he was, 
and the sad change is universal. His once illuminated un- 
derstanding^ is clouded with ignorance; his once comply- 
ing will, full of stubbornness ; and all his once subordinate 
powers have cast off the dominion of his superior faculties. 
But by regeneration, this disordered soul is set right again. 
Sanctification is the renewing of the soul after the image of 
God; through which self-dependence is removed by faith; 
self-love, by the love of God ; self-will, by subjection to the 
will of God; and self-seeking, by self-denial. The dark- 
ened understanding is again illuminated, the refractory will 
sweetly subdued, the rebellious appetite gradually conquer- 
ed ; and thus the soul which sin had universally depraved, 
is again restored and rectified. It should be the constant 
care of the regenerate man to preserve his soul in that holy 
frame into which grace has renewed it. This is an ardu- 
ous work ; for though grace has in a great measure rectified 
the soul, and given it an habitual and heavenly temper, yet 
sin often discomposes it again ; so that even a renewed heart, 
like a musical instrument, though often tuned, is soon put 
out of tune again ; the Christian's heart, if lively in one 
duty, is often dull and disordered in another ; to keep the 
heart, then, is carefully to preserve it from sin which dis- 
orders it, and to maintain that spiritual and gracious frame 
which fits us for a life of communion with God. It includes 
in it the following duties : 



ON KEEPING THE HEART. 3 

1. Frequent observation of the frame of the heart. It is 
a hard thing to bring a man and himself together upon this 
important business. There are some who have lived forty 
or fifty years, and have had scarcely one hour's discourse 
with their own hearts all that while ; but saints know that 
self-communion is of excellent use and advantage ; the soul 
is made wise by sitting still in silence ; it learns whether it 
is gaining or losing ground in the divine life. 

2. It includes deep humiliation for heart evils and dis- 
orders, and earnest prayer for sanctifying grace : " Cleanse 
thou me from secret faults ; create in me a new heart, and 
renew a right spirit within me." Saints offer many such 
petitions before the throne of grace ; with these they fill 
their mouths, while they weep before the throne of mercy : 
" O for a better heart ; a heart to love God more ; to hate 
sin more ; to walk more closely with God ! Lord, deny me 
not such a heart, whatever else thou deniest me." It was 
observed of Mr. Bradford the martyr, that when he was 
confessing any sin, he would never give over confessing 
until he had felt some brokenness of heart for that sin ; and 
when praying for any spiritual mercy, would never with- 
draw his petition till he had felt some relish for that mercy. 

3. It includes a constant, holy jealousy over our own 
hearts. Quick-sighted self-jealousy is an excellent preser- 
vative from sin. He that would keep his heart, must have 
the eyes of his soul awake and open upon all the disorderly 
and tumultuous stirrings of his affections ; if the affections 
break loose, and the passions are stirred, the soul must dis- 
cover and surprise them before they come to a height. " O 
my soul, doest thou well in this ? My tumultuous thoughts 
and passions, where is your commission ?" Happy is the 
man that feareth always. By this fear of the Lord men de- 
part from evil, shake off security, and preserve themselves 
from iniquity. He that will keep his heart, must act with 
fear, speak with fear, rejoice with fear, and pass the whole 
time of his sojourning here in fear ; and all will be little 
enough to keep his heart from sin. 



4 ON KEEPING THE HEART. 

4. It includes the realizing of God's presence with us, 
and setting the Lord always before us. The people of God 
have found this of singular use to keep their hearts upright, 
and awe them from sin. When the eye of our faith is fixed 
upon the eye of God's omniscience, we dare not let out our 
thoughts and affections upon vanity. Holy Job durst not 
suffer his heart to yield to an impure, vain thought. " Doth 
he not see my ways, and count all my steps?" 

Remember, Christian, this heart- work is the most diffi- 
cult work thou hast to do. To shuffle through religious 
duties with a careless spirit, will cost no great pains ; but 
to set thyself before th^ Lord, and tie up thy loose and vain 
thoughts to a constant and serious attendance upon him, 
will cost thee something. To attain a fluency of language 
in prayer, is easy ; but to get thy heart broken for sin while 
thou art confessing it, and melted with free grace when 
thou art adoring God for it ; to be really ashamed and hum- 
bled under a sense of God's infinite holiness, and to keep 
thy heart in this frame, not only in but after duty, will 
surely cost thee much pains. To repress the outward act 
of sin, and compose the outward part of thy life in a be- 
coming manner, is no very di/Ticult matter ; the force of 
common principle can do this ; but to kill the root of cor- 
ruption, and to keep up a holy government, and to keep all 
well within, is no easy work. 

Remember, it is a constant work : the keeping of the 
heart is a work that will never be finished till life is done ; 
this labor and our life must end together ; there is no time 
or condition in the Christian life that will suffer an inter- 
mission of this work. It is in keeping watch over our 
hearts, as it was in keeping up the hands of Moses while 
Israel and Amalek were fighting below. Intermitting the 
watch over their own hearts a few minutes, cost David and 
Peter many a sad hour. 

Remember, the keeping of the heart is a most important 
work. Without this, we are hut formalists in religion. God 
says, " My son, give me thy heart." When the heart 



ON KEEPING THE HEART. O 

is wanting, all our professions, gifts, and duties, go for 
nothing. 

The glory of God is much concerned in it. From a 
neglected heart proceed those practices which cause the 
enemy to blaspheme ; but when the heart is kept with all 
diligence, the life is fruitful in every good work ; and it is 
written, " Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much 
fruit." 

The beauty of our conduct arises from the heavenly 
frame and holy order of our minds. It is impossible that 
a disordered and neglected heart should ever produce a 
well-ordered life ; " out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, 
murders, adulteries." Mark the order: first, wanton or 
revengeful thoughts ; then, unclean or adulterous practices. 
Is not this the reason why the discourses and duties of many 
Christians are become so frothy and unprofitable ? their 
communion both with God and one another runs so low. 
Where is that attracting beauty which used to shine from 
the conversation of the saints upon the men of the world ? 
Time was, when their life and language were of a different 
strain from others ; their tongues discovered them to be 
Galileans, wheresoever they were ; but now, since vain 
speculations and fruitless controversies have prevailed, and 
heart-work and practical godliness are so much neglected, 
the case is sadly altered ; their discourse is become like 
that of other men, who, if they come among such Chris- 
tians, may now " hear every one speak in his own lan- 
guage." And truly there is little reason to hope that we 
shall see this evil redressed, and the credit of religion again 
repaired, till Christians take up this good old work ag^in : 
when the salt of heavenly-mindedness is again cast into the 
spring, the streams will run clearer and sweeter. 

Our comfort materially depends upon the keeping of our 
hearts. Be assured, my friend, if ever you hope for assist- 
ance in God's way, you must take pains with your own 
heart: you may expect your comforts upon easier terms; 
but I am mistaken if you ever enjoy them upon any other ; 
VOL. I. l<i 



6 ON KEEPING THE HEART. 

"Give all diligence," "Prove your own selves^" this is 
the Scripture way. 

There was once a pious man, who, in the infancy of his 
religion, so vehemently panted after the infallible assurance 
of God's love, that for a long time together he earnestly 
desired some voice from heaven. This, after many desires 
and longings, was denied him ; but, in time, a better was 
afforded, in the ordinary way of searching the word and 
his own heart. Another good man was once driven by 
temptation upon the very borders of despair. At last, being 
sweetly settled and assured, one asked him how he attained 
it. He answered, " Not by any extraordinary revelation, 
but by subjecting his understanding to the Scriptures, and 
comparing his own heart with them." It is indeed the office 
of the blessed Spirit to witness with your spirits. But be 
assured, my friends, God will not indulge lazy and negli- 
gent souls with the comforts of assurance ; he will not so 
much as seem to patronize sloth and carelessness ; his com- 
mand has united our care and comfort together; the com- 
fort of our souls rises and falls with our diligence in this 
work. " Keep thy heart then with all diligence." 

The ifnprovement of our graces depends upon the keep- 
ing of our hearts. Grace never thrives in a negligent and 
careless soul. The habits of grace are planted in the heart, 
and the more deeply they are fixed, the more thriving and 
flourishing grace will be. We read of being rooted and 
grounded. Grace in the heart is the root of every gracious 
word in the mouth, and of every holy work in the hand. 
Now, in a heart not kept with care and diligence, these 
fructifying influences are stopped and cut off; a multitude 
of vanities break in, and devour its strength. The heart is, 
as it were, the pasture, where a multitude of thoughts are 
fed every day ; a heart diligently kept, feeds many tlioughts 
of God in a day. " How precious are thy thoughts to me, 
O God ! How great is the sum of them ! If I should count 
them, they are more in number than the sand : when I 
awake. I am still with thee." And as thp gracious heart 



ON KEEPING THE HEART. 7 

feeds and nourishes them, so they nourish and feast the 
heart. " My soul is filled with marrow and fatness, when 
I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the 
night-watches. My soul followeth hard after thee ; thy 
right hand upholdeth me." The careless heart makes no- 
thing of duties or ordinances, and yet these are the conduits 
of heaven, whence grace is watered and made fruitful. A 
man may go with a heedless spirit from ordinance to ordi- 
nance, abide all his days under the choicest teachings, and 
yet never be improved by them ; heart-neglect is a leak in 
the vessel ; no heavenly influence can abide where it is 
found. The heart that lies open and common is like the 
highway, free for all passengers, on which the birds of the 
air alight to devour the seed which is scattered there. It is 
not enough to hear, unless we take heed how we hear ; we 
may pray, and not be better, unless we watch unto prayer. 

The stability of our souls in the hour of temptation will 
depend much upon the care we take in keeping our hearts. 
The careless heart is an easy prey to Satan in the hour of 
temptation. If he wins the heart, he wins all ; for it com- 
mands the whole man ; and, alas, how easy a conquest is a 
neglected heart ! It is the watchful heart that discovers and 
suppresses the temptation before it comes to its strength. 

You have now seen that the keeping of the heart is the 
great work of a Christian, in which the very life and soul 
of relio;ion consist, and without which all other duties are 
of no value with God. Hence, then, I shall infer, 

1. That the pains which many persons have taken in 
religion are but lost labor, and will never turn to account. 
Many glorious works are wrought by men, which will be 
utterly rejected, because the heart was not right with God. 
This is the fatal rock upon which thousands of vain pro- 
fessors split for eternity. O how many hours have some 
spent in hearing, praying, reading ; and yet, as to the main 
end of religion, they might as well have done nothing. 
Thou that hast put off* God with heartless duties, that hast 
acted in religion as if thou hadst been blessing an idol that 



8 ON KEEPING THE HEART. 

could not search or discover the heart, how wilt thou abide 
the coming of the Lord ? With what face canst thou so 
often tell him that thou lovest him, when thou knowest in 
thine own conscience that thine heart is not with him ? 

2. Hence, I also infer, for the humiliation even of up- 
right hearts, that unless the people of God spend more time 
and pains about their hearts than they generally do, they 
are never likely to do God much service, or to enjoy much 
comfort. I may say to the- Christian that is remiss and 
careless in keeping his heart, " Thou shalt not excel." 
It grieves me to see how many Christians there are, who go 
up and down dejected and complaining that they live at a 
poor, low rate both of service and comfort : and can they ex- 
pect it should be otherwise, as long as they live at such a 
careless rate ? O how little of their time is spent in their 
closet, in searching, humbling, and quickening their hearts ! 
You say your hearts are dead ;%nd do you wonder they are 
so, as long as you keep them not with the Fountain of life ? 
He that will not have the sweat, must not expect the sweet, 
of religion. O Christians, I fear we must take up this com- 
plaint of you : " They made me keeper of the vineyards ; 
but my own vineyard have I not kept." 

Fruitless controversies have taken us off from practical 
godliness. How much better were it, if the questions agi- 
tated among the people of God were such as these : " How 
may a soul discern its first declinings from God?" " How 
may a backsliding Christian recover his first love ?" " How 
may the heart be preserved from unseasonable thoughts in du- 
ty ?" " How may a bosom sin be discovered and mortified ?" 

3. If the keeping of the heart is so important a busi- 
ness — if so many dear and precious interests are included 
in it, then let me call upon the people of God everywhere 
to apply themselves to this important work. O Christians, 
study your hearts, watch your hearts, keep your hearts ; 
get into your closets ; you have been strangers in this work 
too long ; you have trifled about the borders of religion too 
long ; this world has detained you from your great work too 



ON KEEPING THE HEART. 9 

long ; will you not now resolve to look better to your hearts ? 
What I beg of you is, that you would commune, frequently 
and in earnest, with your own hearts ; that you would not suf- 
fer trifles to divert you ; that you would keep a more true and 
faithful account of your thoughts and affections ; that you 
would seriously demand of your own hearts, at least every 
evening, what have been their employments through the day. 

The studying, observing, and diligent keeping of your 
hearts, will greatly help your understanding in the high con- 
cerns of religion. A man may discourse clearly and pro- 
foundly of the nature and effects of faith, the troubles and 
comforts of conscience, and the sweetness of communion 
with God, who never felt the efficacy and sweet impression 
of these things upon his own mind ; but O ! how dark and 
dry are these notions, compared with his upon whose heart 
they have been acted ! When such a man reads David's 
Psalms, or Paul's Epistles, he is ready to exclaim, " O ! 
these holy men speak my very heart ! Their doubts are 
mine, their troubles mine, and their experience mine." 

Your care and diligence in keeping your hearts will 
prove one of the best evidences of your sincerity. If self- 
jealousy, care and watchfulness, are thy daily employment, 
it strongly argues thy sincerity ; for what but the sense of 
the divine eye, what but the real hatred of sin, could put 
thee upon these secret duties, which lie out of the observa- 
tion of all creatures ? 

How fruitful, sweet, and comfortable, would ordinances 
and duties be to us, if our hearts were better kept ! O what 
delightful communion we should have with God, if our medi- 
tations of him were more constant ! A Christian whose heart 
is in a good frame, gets the start of all others that come with 
him in that duty. They are tugging to get up their hearts 
to God ; now trying one argument, and then another, to 
quicken and affect them ; and sometimes go away as bad as 
they came ; sometimes the duty is almost ended before their 
' hearts are warmed and enlivened ; but all this while the pre- 
pared heart is in its work. Prayers and sermons would 



10 ON KEEPING THE HEART. 

appear to you very different from what they now do, were 
your hearts more prepared. You would not go away de- 
jected and drooping ; you would then have a fulness of mat- 
ter for prayer, a rich supply for all your addresses to God. 

By this, the decayed 'power of religion will he recovered 
again among professors. O that we might see the day, when 
professors shall be no more content with a name to live, be- 
ing spiritually dead — when the majestic beams of holiness 
shall awe the world, and command reverence from all that 
are about them — when they shall warm the hearts of all that 
come near them, so that men shall say, " God is with these 
men of a truth !" 

Professors of religion, would you recover your credit? 
Would you again obtain an honorable testimony in the con- 
science of your very enemies ? Then keep your hearts ; 
watch your hearts. It is the earthliness of your hearts that 
has made your lives so unprofitable ; you first lost sight of 
God, and communion with him ; then your serious and 
heavenly deportment among men ; and, by that means, your 
interest in their consciences. For the credit then of religion, 
for the honor of your profession, keep your hearts. 

By diligence in keeping our hearts, we should prevent 
and remove tlie fatal scandals and stumhUng-blocks out of the 
way of the world. " Wo to the world, because of offences !" 
Does not shame cover your faces, do not your hearts bleed 
within you, to hear of the scandalous fall of many loose pro- 
fessors ? How is that worthy name blasphemed ! And how 
are the hearts of the righteous made sad ! By this the world 
is prejudiced against Christ and religion, and those who had 
a general love and liking to the ways of God are startled 
and quite driven back. How are the consciences of care- 
less professors often overwhelmed in trouble, God inwardly 
excommunicating their souls from all comfortable fellow- 
ship with himself and the joys of his salvation ! What words 
can express the high importance and the interesting conse- 
quences of this work ? Every thing puts a necessity, a so- 
lemnity, a beauty, upon it. 



ON KEEPING THE HEART. 11 

If the people of God would more diligently keep their 
hearts, how exceedingly would the communion of saints he 
sweetened ! " How goodly then would be thy tents, O Jacob, 
and thy tabernacles, O Israel !" Were professors duly hum- 
bled under the evil of their own hearts, how charitable, how 
tender, would they be to others ! They would strive no 
more, no more would they rashly censure ; but they would 
forbear and forgive, keeping the unity of the Spirit in the 
bond of peace. 

By this the comforts of the Spirit, and precious influences 
of all ordinances, would be fixed, and much longer preserved 
in our souls than they are. Howjs it, Christians, that these 
comforts remain no longer with us ? Doubtless, it is be- 
cause we suffer our hearts to grow cold again ; we have our 
hot and cold fits by turns ; and this is owing to our unskil- 
fulness and carelessness in keeping the heart. 

I would now direct you to some spiritual means for keep- 
ing the heart. 

1. Furnish your hearts richly with the word of God, 
which is the best preservative against sin ; let it dwell 
with you richly in all its commands, promises, and threat- 
enings ; in your understanding, memory, conscience, and 
affections; and then it will preserve your hearts. " Thy 
word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against 
thee." Conscience cannot be urged or awed by forgotten 
truth ; but keep it in the heart, and it will keep both 
heart and life upright. " The law of his God is in his 
heart, none of his steps shall slide ;" or if they do, the 
word will recover the straying heart again. We never 
lose our hearts till we have first lost the powerful impres- 
sion of the word. 

2. If ever you mean to keep your hearts with God, call 
them frequently to account ; the oftener the heart meets with 
rebukes and checks for wandering, the less it will wander ; 
if every vain thought were retracted with a sigh, every ex- 
cursion of the heart from God with a severe check, it would 
not dare so boldly and frequently to digress and step aside. 



12 ON KEEPING THE HEART. 

Those actions which are committed with reluctance, are not 
committed with frequency. 

3. He that means to keep his heart, must carefully ob- 
serve its first declinings from God, and stop it there. Little 
sins, neglected, will quickly become great, and will increase 
to more and more ungodliness. Men little think to what a 
proud, vain, wanton, or worldly thought, may grow. " Be- 
hold how great a matter a little fire kindleth !" 

And now, my dear fellow Christians, let me solemnly 
charge you to lay these things to heart ; count over the bene- 
fits that will arise from a well-ordered heart. Is it a small 
matter to have your weak understanding assisted by divine 
wisdom ? to have your sincerity cleared ? your commun- 
ion with God sweetened ? your endangered souls guard- 
ed from sin ? your lips filled with prayer ? Is it a small 
thing to have the decayed power of godliness again recov- 
ered, all fatal scandals removed, the communion of saints 
restored to its primitive glory, and the influences of ordi- 
nances abiding on the souls of saints ? If these are bless- 
ings worth seeking, then surely it is an important duty to 
keep your hearts with all diligence ! Be not discouraged. 
Christian, with the difficulty of the work. The time is com- 
ing, when thou shalt be discharged from thy labor, from 
thy fears and sorrows ; when all darkness shall be removed 
from thine understanding ; when all vanity shall be removed 
from thy thoughts, and they shall be everlastingly and de- 
lightfully exercised upon the supreme goodness and excel- 
lence of thy God and Saviour, from whom they shall never 
start any more, like a broken bow ; and these corruptions, 
which thou seest to-day, thou shalt see them no more for 
ever; and when thou shalt lay down the weapons of prayers, 
tears, and groans, and put on the armor of light, not to en- 
gage in battle, but to triumph for ever, through him who 
has loved thee, and left thee this gracious encouragement : 
" To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my 
throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my 
Father in his throne." 



]¥o. 25, 



THE 



EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS 



THE HUMAN BODY AND MIND. 



BY BENJAMIN RUSH, M. D. 



By ardent spirits, I mean those liquors only which are 
obtained by distillation from fermented substances of any 
kind. To their efTects upon the bodies and minds of men, 
the following inquiry shall be exclusively confined. 

The effects of ardent spirits divide themselves into such 
as are of a prompt, and such as are of a chronic nature. 
The former discover themselves in drunkenness ; and the 
latter in a numerous- train of diseases and vices of the body 
and mind. 

I. I shall begin by briefly describing their prompt or 
immediate effects in a fit of drunkenness. 

This odious disease (for by that name it should be 
called) appears with more or less of the following symp- 
toms, and most commonly in the order in which I shall 
enumerate them. 

1. Unusual garrulity. 

2. Unusual silence. 

3. Captiousness, and a disposition to quarrel. 

4. Uncommon good-humor, and an insipid simpering, 
or laugh. 

5. Profane swearing and cursing. 

6. A disclosure of their own or other people's secrets. 

7. A rude disposition to tell those persons in company, 
whom they know, their faults. 

VOL. r.. 13* 



2 THE EFFECTS OF ARDE^^T SPIRITS 

8. Certain immodest actions. I am sorry to say this 
sign of the first stage of drunkenness sometimes appears in 
women, who, when sober, are uniformly remarkable for 
chaste and decent manners. 

9. A clipping of words. 

10. Fighting; a black eye, or a swelled nose, often 
mark this grade of drunkenness. 

11. Certain extravagant acts which indicate a temporary 
fit of madness. These are singing, hallooing, roaring, imita- 
ting the noises of brute animals, jumping, tearing off clothes, 
dancing naked, breaking glasses and china, and dashing 
other articles of household furniture upon the ground or 
floor. After a while the paroxysm of drunkenness is com- 
pletely formed. The face now becomes flushed, the eyes 
project, and are somewhat watery, winking is less frequent 
than is natural ; the under lip is protruded — the head in- 
clines a little to one shoulder — the jaw falls — belchings and 
hiccough take place — the limbs totter — the whole body stag- 
gers. The unfortunate subject of this history next falls on 
his seat — he looks around him with a vacant countenance, 
and mutters inarticulate sounds to himself — he attempts to 
rise and walk : in this attempt he falls upon his side, from 
which he gradually turns upon his back : he now closes his 
eyes and falls into a profound sleep, frequently attended 
with snoring, and profuse sweats, and sometimes with such 
a relaxation of the muscles which confine the bladder and 
the lower bowels, as to produce a symptom which delicacy 
forbids me to mention. In this condition he often lies from 
ten, twelve, and twenty-four hours, to two, three, four, and 
five days, an object of pity and disgust to his family and 
friends. His recovery from this fit of intoxication is marked 
with several peculiar appearances. He opens his eyes and 
closes them again — he gapes and stretches his limbs — he 
then coughs and pukes — his voice is hoarse — he rises with 
difficulty, and staggers to a chair — his eyes resemble balls 
of fire — his hands tremble — he loathes the sight of food — he 
calls for a glass of spirits to compose his stomach — now and 
then he emits a deep-fetched sigh, or groan, from a tran- 
sient twinge of conscience ; but he more frequently scolds, 
and curses every thing around him. In this stage of languor 
and stupidity he remains for two or three days before he is 
able to resume his former habits of business and conversation. 



UPON THE HUBIAN BODY AND MIND. 3 

Pythagoras, we are told, maintained that the souls of 
men after death expiated the crimes committed by them in 
this world by animating certain brute animals ; and that 
the souls of those animals, in their turns, entered into men, 
and carried with them all their peculiar qualities and vices. 
This doctrine of one of the wisest and best of the Greek 
philosophers, was probably intended only to convey a lively 
idea of the changes which are induced in the body and 
mind of man by a fit of drunkenness. In folly, it causes 
him to resemble a calf — in stupidity, an ass — in roaring, a 
mad bull — in quarrelling and fighting, a dog — in cruelty, a 
tiger — in fetor, a skunk — in filthiness, a hog — and in ob- 
scenity, a he-goat. 

It belongs to the history of drunkenness to remark, that 
its paroxysms occur, like the paroxysms of many diseases, 
at certain periods, and after longer or shorter intervals. 
They often begin with annual, and gradually increase in 
their frequency, until they appear in quarterly, monthly, 
weekly, and quotidian, or daily periods. Finally, they 
afford scarcely any marks of remission either during the 
day or the night. There was a citizen of Philadelphia, 
many years ago, in whom drunkenness appeared in this 
protracted form. In speaking of him to one of his neigh- 
bors, I said, " Does he not sometimes get drunk ?" " You 
mean," said his neighbor, " is he not sometimes sober ?" 

It is further remarkable, that drunkenness resembles 
certain hereditary, family, and contagious diseases. I have 
once known it to descend from a father to four out of five 
of his children. I have seen three, and once four brothers, 
who were born of sober ancestors, affected by it ; and I 
have heard of its spreading through a whole family com- 
posed of members not originally related to each other. 
These facts are important, and should not be overlooked by 
parents, in deciding upon the matrimonial connections of 
their children. 

II. Let us next attend to the chronic effects of ardent 
spirits upon the body and mind. In the body they dispose 
to every form of acute disease ; they moreover excite fevers 
in persons predisposed to them from other causes. This 
has been remarked in all the yellow-fevers which have 
visited the cities of the United States. Hard-drinkers sel- 
dom escape; and rarely recover from them. The following 



4 THE EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS 

diseases are the usual consequences of the habitual use of 
ardent spirits : 

1. A decay of appetite, sickness at stomach, and a 
puking of bile, or a discharge of a frothy and viscid phlegm, 
by hawking, in the morning. 

2. Obstructions of the liver. The fable of Prometheus, 
on whose liver a vulture was said to prey constantly, as a 
punishment for his stealing fire from heaven, was intended 
to illustrate the painful effects of ardent spirits upon that 
organ of the body. 

3. Jaundice, and dropsy of the belly and limbs, and 
finally of every cavity in the body. A swelling in the feet 
and legs is so characteristic a mark of habits of intemper- 
ance, that the merchants in Charleston, I have been told, 
cease to trust the planters of South Carolina as soon as they 
perceive it. They very naturally conclude industry and 
virtue to be extinct in that man, in whom that symptom of 
disease has been produced by the intemperate use of dis- 
tilled spirits. 

4. Hoarseness, and a husky cough, which often termi- 
nate in consumption, and sometimes in an acute and fatal 
disease of the lungs. 

5. Diabetes, that is, a frequent and weakening discharge 
of pale or sweetish urine. 

6. Redness, and eruptions on different parts of the body. 
They generally begin on the nose, and after gradually 
extending all over the face, sometimes descend to the limbs 
in the form of leprosy. They have been called " Rum- 
buds," when they appear in the face. In persons who have 
occasionally survived these effects of ardent spirits on the 
skin, the face after a while becomes bloated, and its redness 
is succeeded by a death-like paleness. Thus, the same 
fire which produces a red color in iron, when urged to a 
more intense degree, produces what has been called a white- 
heat. 

7. A fetid breath, composed of every thing that is offen- 
sive in putrid animal matter. 

8. Frequent and disgusting belchings. Dr. Haller re- 
lates the case of a notorious drunkard having been suddenly 
destroyed, in consequence of the vapor discharged from his 
stomach by belching, accidentally taking fire by coming in 
contact with the flame of a candle. 



UPON THE HUMAN BODY AND MIND. 5 

9. Epilepsy. 

10. Gout, in all its various forms.of swelled limbs, colic, 
palsy, and apoplexy. 

11. Lastly, madness. The late Dr. Waters, while he 
acted as house-pupil and apothecary of the Pennsylvania 
Hospital, assured me that, in one-third of the patients con- 
fined by this terrible disease, it had been induced by ardent 
spirits. 

Most of the diseases which have been enumerated are 
of a mortal nature. They are more certainly induced, and 
terminate more speedily in death, when spirits are taken in 
such quantities, and at such times, as to produce frequent 
intoxication ; but it may serve to remove an error with 
which some intemperate people console themselves, to re- 
mark, that ardent spirits often bring on fatal diseases without 
producing drunkenness. I have known many persons 
destroyed by them who were never completely intoxicated 
during the whole course of their lives. The solitary in- 
stances of longevity which are now and then met with in 
hard-drinkers, no more disprove the deadly effects of 
ardent spirits, than the solitary instances of recoveries 
from apparent death by drowning, prove that there is no 
danger to life from a human body lying an hour or two 
under water. 

The body, after its death from the use of distilled spirits, 
exhibits, by dissection, certain appearances which are of a 
peculiar nature. The fibres of the stomach and bowels are 
contracted — abscesses, gangrene, and schirri are found in 
the viscera. The bronchial vessels are contracted — the 
blood-vessels and tendons in many parts of the body are 
more or less ossified, and even the hair of the head possesses 
a crispness which renders it less valuable to wig-makers 
than the hair of sober people. 

Not less destructive are the effects of ardent spirits upon 
the human mind. They impair the memory, debilitate the 
understanding, and pervert the moral faculties. It was 
probably from observing these effects of intemperance in 
drinking upon the mind, that a law was formerly passed in 
Spain which excluded drunkards from being witnesses in a 
court of justice. But the demoralizing effects of distilled 
spirits do not stop here. They produce not only falsehood, 
but fraud, theft, uncleanliness, and murder. Like the 



6 THE EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS 

demoniac mentioned in the New Testament, their name is 
" Legion," for they convey into the soul a host of vices and 
crimes. 

A more affecting spectacle cannot be exhibited than a 
person into whom this infernal spirit, generated by habits 
of intemperance, has entered : it is more or less affecting, 
according to the station the person fills in a family, or in 
society, who is possessed by it. Is he a husband ? How 
deep the anguish which rends tJie bosom of his wife ? Is 
she a wife ? Who can measure the shame and aversion 
which she excites in her husband ? Is he the father, or is 
she the mother of a family of children ? See their averted 
looks from their parent, and their blushing looks at each 
other ! Is he a magistrate ? or has he been chosen to fill a 
high and respectable station in the councils of his country ? 
What humiliating fears of corruption in the administration 
of the laws, and of the subversion of public order and 
happiness, appear in the countenances of all who see him ! 
Is he a minister of the Gospel ? Here language fails me. 
If angels weep — it is at such a sight. 

In pointing out the evils produced by ardent spirits, let 
us not pass by their effects upon the estates of the persons 
who are addicted to them. Are they inhabitants of cities ? 
Behold their houses stripped gradually of their furniture, 
and pawned, or sold by a constable, to pay tavern debts. 
See their names upon record in the dockets of every court, 
and whole pages of newspapers filled with advertisements 
of their estates for public sale. Are they inhabitants of 
country places? Behold their houses with shattered win- 
dows — their barns with leaky roofs — their gardens overrun 
with weeds — their fields with broken fences — their hogs 
without yokes — their sheep without w^ool — their cattle and 
horses without fat — and their children, filthy and half-clad, 
without manners, principles, and morals. This picture of 
agricultural wretchedness is seldom of long duration. The 
farms and property thus neglected and depreciated are 
seized and sold for the benefit of a group of creditors. The 
children that were born with the prospect of inheriting them 
are bound out to service in the neighborhood ; while their 
parents, the unworthy autiiors of their misfortunes, ramble 
into new and distant settlements, alternately fed on their 
way bv the hand of charity, or a little casual labor. 



UPON THE HUMAN BODY AND MIND. 7 

Thus we see poverty and misery, crimes and infamy, 
diseases and death, are all the natural and usual conse- 
quences of the intemperate use of ardent spirits. 

I have classed death among the consequences of hard 
drinking. But it is not death from the immediate hand of 
the Deity, nor from any of the instruments of it which were 
created by him : it is death from suicide. Yes — thou poor 
degraded creature who art daily lifting the poisoned bowl 
to thy lips — cease to avoid the unhallowed ground in which 
the self-murderer is interred, and wonder no longer that the 
sun should shine, and the rain fall, and the grass look green 
upon his grave. Tliou art perpetrating, gradually, by the 
use of ardent spirits, what he has effected suddenly by 
opium or a halter. Considering how many circumstances 
from surprise, or derangement, may palliate his guilt, or 
that (unlike yours) it was not preceded and accompanied by 
any other crime, it is probable his condemnation will be less 
than yours at the day of judgment. 

I shall now take notice of the occasions and circum- 
stances which are supposed to render the use of ardent 
spirits necessary, and endeavor to show that the arguments 
in favor of their use in such cases are founded in error, 
and that in each of them ardent spirits, instead of affording 
strength to the body, increase the evils they are intended to 
relieve. 

1. They are said to be necessary in very cold weather. 
This is far from being true, for the tempoi'ary warmth they 
produce is always succeeded by a greater disposition in the 
body to be affected by cold. Warm dresses, a plentiful 
meal just before exposure to the cold, and eating occasion- 
ally a little gingerbread, or any other cordial food, is a much 
more durable method of preserving the heat of the body in 
cold weather. 

2. They are said to be necessary in very warm weather. 
Experience proves that they increase, instead of lessening 
the effects of heat upon the body, and thereby dispose to 
diseases of all kinds. Even in the warm climate of the 
West Indies, Dr. Bell asserts this to be true. " Rum," 
says this author, " whether used habitually, moderately, or 
in excessive quantities, in the West Indies, always dimin- 
ishes the strength of the body, and renders men more 
susceptible of disease, and unfit for anv service in which 



8 THE EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS, ETC. 

vigor or activity is required."* As well might we throw 
oil into a house, the roof of which was on fire, in order to 
prevent the flames from extending to its inside, as pour 
ardent spirits into the stomach to lessen the effects of a hot 
sun upon the skin. 

3. Nor do ardent spirits lessen the effects of hard labor 
upon the body. Look at the horse, with every muscle of 
his body swelled from morning till night in the plough, or a 
team ; does he make signs for a draught of toddy, or a glass 
of spirits, to enable him to cleave the ground, or to climb a 
hill ? No — he requires nothing but cool water and substan- 
tial food. There is no nourishment in ardent spirits. The 
strength they produce in labor is of a transient nature, and 
is always followed by a sense of weakness and fatigue. 



* See his " Inquiry into the causes which produce, and the means 
of preventing diseases among British officers, soldiers, and otiiers, in 
the West Indies." 



DANGER PROM ARDENT SPIRITS. 

Every man is in danger of becoming a drunkard who is 
in the habit of drinking ardent spirits — 1. When he is warm. 
2. When he is cold. 3. When he is wet. 4. When he is 
dry. 5. When he is dull. 6. When he is lively. 7. When 
he travels. 8. When he is at home. 9. When he is in 
company. 10. When he is alone. 11. When he is at 
work. 12. When he is idle. 13. Before meals. 14. After 
meals. 15. When he gets up. 16. When he goes to bed. 
17. On holidays. 18. On public occasions. 19. On any 
day ; or 20. On any occasion. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 36. 



SII, NO TRIFLE. 



What a strange world is this in which we live ! The 
Prince of light and the prince of darkness — good men and 
bad men — holiness and sin — are all made objects of sport 
and ridicule. However, it is dangerous folly to jest with 
serious things ; and Solomon teaches that they are " fools" 
who " make a mock at sin." Prov. 14 : 9. Here we see 
children doing mischief and then laughing at it, in which, 
alas, they are often encouraged by ungodly parents ; there 
the drunkard boasts of his excesses, the debauchee of the 
number of his victims, and the gamester of the fruits of his 
art and deceit. Thus many, at every period of life, glory 
in their shame ! , ' / 

Wicked men triumph when they see blemishes in the 
character of the righteous. What manner of persons ought 
Christians then to be in all holy conversation and godliness, 
that they may cut off the pleas of gainsayers, and put to 
silence the ignorance of foolish men. 

Friendly reader, art thou tempted to countenance, by a 
laugh, or a smile, or in any other way, what thou canst not 
inwardly approve ? We entreat thee to weigh well the 
following considerations : 

1. He who laughs at sin, laughs while God frowns. 
"God is angry with the wicked every day." Psalm 7 : 11. 
What is it that excites his anger ? What is that by which 
his Spirit is vexed and grieved ? What is that which occa- 
sions the sword of vengeance to hang over the heads of 
sinners ? " The wrath of God is revealed from heaven 
against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men." Rom. 
1 : 18. And if the wrath of a king be as the roaring of a 
lion, how dreadful must be the wrath of the Almighty God f 

2. He who makes light of sin, makes light of the raise- 



2 SIN, NO TKIFLE. 

ries of inankind, all of which are occasioned by sin. We 
live in a vale of tears, in which prisons, and hospitals, and 
innumerable other receptacles of woe, impress the solemn 
ti'uth, that the misery of man is great upon him. Eccl. 8:6. 

Ah ! little think the gay, licentious proud. 

Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround. 

They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth. 

And wanton, often cruel riot, waste — 

Ah, little think they, while they dance along, 

How many feel, this very moment, death. 

And all the sad variety of pain. THOMsojr. 

3. To sport with sin, is to sport with death. For sin 
entered the world, and death followed sin. Rom. 5 : 12. 
And death has made this world like Golgotha, a place of 
skulls — not a fit place, then, for profane merriment. If all 
the carcasses of all the dead were collected into one vast 
pile, and it should be asked, " Who slew all these ?" 2 
Kings, lO : 9, the answer must be, " Sin slew them all." 

Death stands between eternity and time, 
With open jaws — on such a narrow bridge 
That none can pass but must become his prey. 

4. For a man to laugh at sin, is to laugh at what ren- 
ders him odious in the sight of all holy beings, and, un re- 
pented of, will prove his ruin. Will any one make sport 
with his own disease ? Sin is a disease. It is poisonous — 
it is fatal too, unless the Balm of Gilead, the blood of Christ, 
be applied in time. Sin produces degradation and shame. 
When a man laughs at his sin, he laughs at the fraud by 
which he has cheated himself. His conduct is not less 
absurd than wicked. It is the folly of an odious wretch 
laughing at his own pollution. 

5. To make light of sin, is to make light of the pains 
of hell. For sin opened the bottomless pit. Sin is the 
parent of the worm that dieth not. Sin kindles the flame 
which shall never be quenched. Sin leads to the place of 
weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. 

O careless, thoughtless sinner ! Is it a light thing to 



SIN, NO TRIFLE. 3 

fall into the hands of the living God — to feel the weight of 
his curse — to dwell with everlasting burnings ? Canst 
thou expect to enjoy sinful mirth and jovial companions 
in hell, from whence the smoke of their torment ascendeth 
up for ever and ever ? Consider this, ye that forget God, 
lest he tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver. 
Consider this, before the great day of his wrath is come. 
Think on your ways, and turn your feet to his testimonies. 
In those testimonies you will find a Saviour revealed. His 
name is Jesus. Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, 
now is the day of salvation. Believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and thou shalt be saved. 

6. To sport with sin, is to sport with the sorroios of 
Jesus. And this, considering the dignity of the person 
of Christ, is the most solemn and awful consideration that 
can be suggested. It were less guilty to sport with fellow- 
creatures than with the Son of God. Never did any person 
suffer so much from contempt as Jesus did. He was blind- 
folded and buffeted, and in the grossest manner insulted by 
the rabble in the high-priest's hall. " Then did they spit in 
his face." Matt. 26 : 67. Herod and his men of war set 
Jesus at naught. In mockery he was invested with a 
purple robe. A reed was put into his hand for a sceptre, 
to ridicule his pretensions to a kingdom. And when he 
was expiring in agony, (O, horrid to relate !) they mocked 
the pangs in which he died. Passing strangers wagged 
their heads, and said, " If thou be the Son of God, come 
down from the cross." The chief priests, scribes, and 
elders, said, with bitter sarcasm, " He saved others ; him- 
self he cannot save." And even the thieves, who w^ere 
crucified with him, cast the same in his teeth. 

You perhaps say, that had you been there you could not 
have joined in such cruel mockery and murder ! But 
recollect that, in trifling with sin, you " crucify the Son 
of God afresh, and put him to open shame." And can 
you, O wanton sinner, join your voice to theirs, to insult 
him ; can you trifle with Jesus, and make light of his 



4 SIN, NO TRIFLE. 

prayers, his tears, and groans, and bloody sweat, and dying 
agonies ? O be persuaded to trace his footsteps to Calvary. 
There stand and gaze, pause and ponder. If at such a 
place, with such a scene, you can still trifle with sin, and 
thus sport with the sorrows of Jesus, your heart must be 
hard indeed — harder than the rocks which rent, more in- 
sensible than the dead which came up from their graves ! 
At the sight of such obduracy, how must angels feel ? 
" More struck with grief or wonder, who can tell ?" 

Around the bloody tree they pressed with strong desire 
That wondrous sight to see, the Lord of life expire ! 
And could their eyes have known a tear, 
In sad surprise had dropt it here. Doddridge. 

" Consider this, ye that forget God," and " make a mock 
of sin," lest your hearts become still harder, and lest he 
"tear you in pieces, and there be none to deliver." For 
remember, " if we sin wilfully, after that we have received 
the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacri- 
fice for sin." 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns. 
Laughs at the sword of vengeance o'er his head ; 

Laughs at the great Redeemer's tears and wounds. 
Who, but for sin, had never wept or bled. 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at the numerous woes 
Which have this wicked world so oft befell ; 

Laughs at the whole creation's groans and throes. 
At all the spoils of death, and pains of hell. 

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his own disease, 
Welcomes approaching torture with his smiles. 

Dares at his soul's expense his fancy please. 
Affronts his God — himself of bliss beguiles. 

Who laughs at sin, sports with his guilt and shame. 
Laughs at the errors of his senseless mind ; 

For so absurd a fool there wants a name 

Expressive of a folly so refin'd. Jos. Stennet. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



VSo. 27. 



PARENTAL DUTIES 



m 




It is the perpetual and universal law of nature, for the 
parent of every species to care for its offspring. The wild 
beast that roams through the forest, and the bird of prey that 
builds her nest in the cliffs of the rock, provide each for 
their young, and teach them the most suitable means for 
preserving their existence, and providing for all their wants. 
It is indeed a rare thing for a woman to " forget her suck- 
ing child," or even for a man to be altogether void of " natu- 
ral affection;" but we too often see that their concern ex- 
tends only to inferior objects. To provide food and raiment 



4 PARENTAL DUTIES. 

for the body, to preserve it from the dangers to which it is 
exposed, and so to cherish the dawn of reason and cultivate 
the human mind as to fit the child to become an ornament 
of society, are indispensable duties ; but they are not all. 
" These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other 
undone." Luke 11 : 42. 

We urge upon parents, especially upon Christian par- 
ents, duties far more excellent in their nature, and far 
more weighty in their conseq-uences. We urge a becoming 
solicitude for the souls of their children. Here is indeed a 
treasure committed to you, in trust, which carries with it a 
high degree of responsibility. This is a stewardship of 
which you must one day give account ; and an awful day 
will it indeed be to you, if you have in any measure con- 
tributed to the eternal ruin of your children, or if you have 
not assiduously used all the means which might, in any 
way, have proved conducive to their salvation. 

He who knoweth the end from the beginning, and who 
searcheth the heart, foresaw that the father of the faithful 
would show proper regard to this important duty, and thus 
commends his fidelity : "'For I know him, that he will 
command his children and his household after him, and 
they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and 
judgment." Gen. 18 : 19. David also, when his latter 
end was approaching, gave this solemn and appropriate 
charge to his successor: "And thou, Solomon, my son, 
know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a 
perfect heart, and with a willing mind ; for the Lord 
searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imagina- 
tions of the thoughts : if thou seek him, he will be found 
of thee ; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off for 
ever." 1 Chron. 28 : 9. We have another interesting ex- 
ample in the following passage : " And it was so, when the 
days of their feasting were gone about, that Job sent and 
sanctified them, and rose up early in the morning, and offer- 



PARENTAL DUTIES. 3 

ed burnt-offerings according to the number of them all ; 
for Job said, it may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed 
God in their hearts. Thus did Job continually." Job 1 : 5. 
These good men all exemplified the character of wise and 
affectionate parents, looking to the souls of their children 
as the first and most essential point, knowing that this was 
infinitely more important than any thing which related to 
their interest in the present world. All such parents as 
regard the earthly advantage of their children, and neglect 
their souls, act a part as unwise as it is unjust and cruel. 

The following was among the first and most solemn in- 
junctions given to the Israelites : " Therefore shall ye lay 
up these my words in your heart, and in your soul, and 
bind them for a sign upon your head, that they may be as 
frontlets between your eyes. And ye shall teach them to 
your children, speaking of them when thou sittest in thy 
house, and when thou walkest by the way, when thou liest 
down, and when thou risest up." Deut. 11 : 18, 19. 

The faithful discharge of parental duties is likely to 
yield more solid and permanent pleasure than it is possible 
to derive from the most fascinating scenes of worldly gayety 
and splendor. But we have to deplore the melancholy 
truth, that parents, in many cases, forego the honor and 
pleasure attendant upon this duty. Nor does this complaint 
attach only to one class of society ; it applies to the learned 
and the illiterate, the rich and the poor. 

The ignorance and irreligion of the younger branches 
of many families may be easily accounted for. Observe 
the evil habits, and that profligacy of manners, in which 
the parents indulge. Those who are in good circumstan- 
ces are frequently from home, at the theatre, the ball, or 
the card-party ; while their children (at least in many in- 
stances) are left under the care of ignorant and vicious 
servants, or hurried to those haunts of folly at hours so 
unseasonable as to injure their health, and to endanger 



4 PARENTAL DUTIES. 

their lives. On the other hand, many parents who are 
poor, and devoted to idleness and drinking, leave their 
ragged and dirty offspring to rove through the streets from 
morning till night, and to learn those vulgar and profane 
expressions, and form those vicious habits, which it is well 
known are learned there. 

The first step which will most effectually contribute to 
a diminution of ignorance and vice in the young, is, to 
awaken in the minds of parents a just, a strong sense of 
the nature and extent of the duty which they owe their 
children. This is correcting the evil at the fountainhead ; 
and this evil being corrected, streams of blessings will flow 
abroad, and produce the most effectual and lasting benefits. 
Then the state of the rising generation, which has long been 
a barren wilderness, shall become a fruitful field. Then 
the prevailing anxiety among parents shall be thus ex- 
pressed : " That our sons may be as plants grown up in 
their youth ; that our daughters may be as corner-stones, 
polished after the similitude of a palace." Psalm 144 : 12. 

Christian ministers may render great assistance in this 
good work. Let them constantly and earnestly aim to im- 
press upon the minds of parents the vast importance, not 
only of family prayer, but of family instruction, especially 
catechizing. Indeed, it would be well if there were, in all 
our congregations, schools of instruction for the full-grown 
and aged, too many of whom are unhappily themselves too 
defective in knowledge to be able to teach their children 
either the doctrines or the duties of true Christianity. To 
those, however, who have ability and leisure to instruct their 
families, but either want courage to commence, or patience 
to continue the practice, ministers should in public show 
the importance of this needful, but much neglected duty. 

Let us indulge the hope that we are addressing many 
parents who already feel the propriety and importance of 
the advice we are now giving. They are saying with con- 



PARENTAL DUTIES. 5 

siderable solicitude, " What is to be done to accomplish this 
great end, and what are the means most likely to make an 
effectual impression upon the miinds of our children ?" 
We would cherish your zeal in this good work, we would 
aid you, if possible, in the discharge of this duty. Often 
read, and labor to carry into effect the advice of the in- 
spired volume : " Train up a child in the way he should go, 
and when he is old he will not depart from it." Pro v. 
22 : 6. You will see the wisdom, and feel the importance 
of this work, only in the proportion in which you feel the 
worth of your own souls, and are yourselves giving all dili- 
gence to obtain salvation and eternal life ; and when you 
feel it to be your privilege and duty, you will not only as- 
siduously direct all your zeal and talents to carry it into 
effect, but you will constantly and earnestly pray to God to 
crown your labor with his blessing. To those having this 
spirit, the following hints may not be unacceptable. 

If parents would become instructors, and render their 
habitation the school of genuine wisdom, they must render 
home agreeable ; they must treat their children as friends, 
and, by an open and kind behavior, conciliate their friend- 
ship and esteem ; otherwise the most wise and profitable 
advice will be lost. If it is conveyed in an authoritative, 
domineering, austere manner, it will excite disgust and 
revolt, while mildness and affection soften the mind, and 
allure it to the love of that which is good. The one mode is 
injurious as the boisterous hail storm, the other beneficial 
as the copious dew, or the warm and gentle shower. 

One of the first objects of parental attention should be, 
to weaken the energy, check the growth, and prevent, as 
much as possible, the breaking forth of the corrupt and 
sensual propensities of the human heart, which, being de- 
ceitful above all things and desperately wicked, sends forth 
nothing but corrupt and polluted streams. You must espe- 
cially watch over and aim to subdue and destroy the master 
VOL. I. 14 



6 PARENTAL DUTIES. 

passion, (or to use Scripture language,) the sin which easily 
besets them. Evil propensities in the minds of youth, like 
weeds in the garden, by indulgence take deeper root and 
grow more vigorous ; you will find it most easy to destroy 
them soon after their first appearance. 

Carefully watch the dawn of reason, and as their infant 
minds begin to expand, labor to throw light upon them. 
The vacant and playful hour may be improved for instruc- 
tion. ThSy are never tired of asking questions ; never be 
you weary of answering them, and aim to give all their 
inquiries a useful, that is, a moral and religious turn. You 
may make their instruction a matter of amusement ; and 
even teach them the most weighty truths in regard to God, 
their own souls, and* another world, in a way most con- 
genial to their natural disposition. The lessons you give 
them in this way, will be received with more willingness, 
and in some instances, will make a more lasting impression 
than those which are given in a formal manner, attention 
to which costs them more time and labor. Indeed, parents 
should begin early to converse with their children in the 
most free and unrestrained manner ; some parents have 
used themselves to spend half an hour in conversation and 
prayer with each of their children individually, and it has 
produced the best effect. There is not an object, or an oc- 
currence, which passes under their notice, but, while it fur- 
nishes the child with matter of inquiry, will also furnish the 
parent with a subject or lesson of instruction ; especially 
be careful to improve seasons of mercy and affliction. 

Parents cannot begin too soon to allure their children 
to read and love the word of God; for although some 
branches of it are sublime and elevated above the full 
grasp of the most enlarged and soaring mind, yet there are 
other parts suited, both in subject and language, as well to 
the capacity as to the age and circumstances of children. 
It was, no doubt, at a very early period, that the mother 



PARENTAL DUTIES. 7 

and grandmother of Timothy began to teach him the Holy- 
Scriptures ; their example is worthy the imitation of every 
parent, and their success affords a strong encouragement to 
diligence and perseverance. Joseph, Samuel, and Josiah, 
are all delightful patterns of early piety ; and modern times 
furnish many instances in which parents have, under the 
divine blessing, in the use of the Scriptures, sown the seeds 
of eternal life in the hearts of their children, even in their 
tenderest years. 

Let it be your daily and persevering effort to impress 
their minds with profound reverence for the name of God. 
Guard them against even the most trifling instance which 
would either express or imply a want of respect for the 
Lord's day. Cherish in their minds an habitual regard to 
truth ; assure them that lies told in jest, and those which 
are told for gain, or to avoid suffering, are all contrary to 
the Scriptures, and offensive to God. As soon as prudence 
and circumstances will allow, carry them to the house of 
God, that they may not only see and. hear God's people 
join in acts of devotion, but themselves also try to lisp his 
praise ; for out of the mouths of babes and sucklings he 
can perfect his own glory. Children receive religious im- 
pressions much earlier in the house of God than we are 
aware of, and therefore it is criminal in parents not to give 
them all the advantages of God's instituted worship. If 
you send them to boarding-schools, it should be a matter 
of conscience with you to select religious ones. 

It is very important that parents should endeavor to 
give the minds of their children a right direction as to the 
choice of hooks and company. It is a maxim delivered to 
us upon high authority, that " Evil communications corrupt 
good manners;" and indeed the experience of every age 
has justified and illustrated this solemn truth. Circulating 
libraries, and the companions with which many young per- 
sons resort to these repositories of every thing delusive to 



8 PARENTAL DUTIES. 

the imagination, and destructive to the morals of the young, 
should be assiduously guarded against, as generally lead- 
ing to the most destructive consequences. The real ten- 
dency of the greater part of the reading furnished by novels 
and romances, is, to mislead the understanding, corrupt the 
heart, and prepare the way for a dissolute and vicious 
course of practice. Indeed, not a few of the books alluded 
to, deserve to be burned by the hands of the public execu- 
tioner. The writer speaks from his own knowledge, when 
he says, that some of the worst of this kind, jest books, etc., 
are printed upon a very coarse paper, and hawked among 
servants from door to door, at the expense of only a few 
cents each. Let parents be on their guard also against the 
general course of public amusements ; for the sparks of evil 
which irreligious books and companions first kindle in the 
mind, are too frequently blown into a flame, and break forth 
in the most tremendous manner through their influence. 
It is evident that the generality of public entertainments, 
adapted both to the rich and the poor, can answer no 
other purpose, in the young of both sexes, than to feed " the 
lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the pride of life." 
And yet so deluded are the multitude, that these things 
pass current for innocent amusements ! 

Be it remembered by parents, that in vain they furnish 
their children with good advice, and bring them under the 
influence of wholesome restraints, if they themselves do not 
practically exemplify the excellency and importance of pure 
and undefiled religion. Let the temper, the conversation, 
and the conduct of the parent, then, be a pattern of every- 
thing wise and good. He is sure to be an unsuccessful 
preacher to his children, who is not a practical one. Is it 
possible that your children will be influenced to choose and 
follow that which is good, upon your recommendation, if 
your whole practice is so diametrically opposite as to justify 
them in addressing to you that old and mortifying proverb, 
" Phvsician. heal tlivsplf?" 



PARENTAL DUTIES. 9 

But peradventure, Reader, you see the importance of 
this subject ; you are alive to your duty ; you are apply- 
ing yourself to it with becoming zeal; you are anxiously 
watching for the fruit of your labor ; and your mind is 
often divided between hope and fear as to its issue. I con- 
gratulate you on the honorable nature of your employ- 
ment, you work for eternity. I congratulate your children 
that they are privileged to have such parents. I congratu- 
late the country that there is reason to hope you will be- 
queath to it, in the persons of your children, industrious, 
peaceable, and useful members of society. I congratulate 
the church of God that, perhaps ere long, these children 
shall come and tell what God hath done for them, saying, 
" God hath heard the prayers of our dear parents, he hath 
blessed their instructions and example to the salvation of 
our souls, and now we love the house and ordinances of 
God. We abhor the assemblies of the wicked, and desire 
to be united to the confi^regation of the righteous : we now 
see that the wages of sin is death ; that the broad, the 
crowded way leadeth to destruction ; and, blessed be God, 
we have now learned to say of religion by happy experi- 
ence, ' Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
paths are peace.' " Prov. 3 : 17. 

But alas ! there are too many parents insensible to their 
duty, who totally neglect the souls of their children. To 
them we would address some of those considerations which 
tend to show their folly and sin, and which may, under the 
blessing of God, awaken their attention to this service, the 
neglect of which, when attached to persons bearing the 
Christian name, and themselves professing to know and 
believe Christianity, is not only inexcusable, but doubly 
criminal. It is the duty of every Christian to endeavor to 
his utmost to spread the knowledge and salvation of Christ 
among his fellow-creatures, but especially among his own 
children. If he who provides not temporally for his own 



10 PARENTAL DUTIES. 

household, has denied the faith, and is worse than an infi- 
del, what shall we say of those parents who use no en- 
deavor to save their children's souls ? Their offence is 
greater, and their punishment will be awful indeed. 

The soul is infinitely more precious than the body. It 
is immortal, it is depraved, it is in danger of being eternally 
lost. Oh ! pity, pray for, and seek its eternal salvation. 
The immense value of the souls of your children is ex- 
pressed in the most striking language by our Lord : " What 
is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and 
lose his own soul ?" How little have those parents thought 
of and felt this truth, who confine all their care for their 
children merely to clothing and feeding, and preserving 
them from external evil, or promoting their well-being in 
society. All these things bear relation only to time ; the 
advantages arising from them will soon have an end. But 
if, by instructing them in the things of God, you save their 
souls, you confer upon them a substantial and eternal good. 
All that you do for them short of aiming at their eternal 
happiness, is trivial and insignificant. Although you should 
procure for them riches, honors, and large possessions ; 
what will these avail when their souls are required ? What 
will these avail, if they lift up their eyes in hell at last ? 

You are bound to instruct your children in the ways of 
God, as you regard your own interest. What fruit have 
you a right to expect from your children, if you leave them 
to walk in the way of their own hearts, and in the ways of 
sin ? They will be so far from adding to your comfort, that 
they will be as thorns in your sides ; they will despise 
both your authority and your affection ; they will waste 
your property in riot and dissipation ; they will daily 
wound your peace, pierce your heart through with many 
sorrows, and finally, it may be, bring down your gray 
hairs with sorrow to the grave. Read the history of Eli, 
who, when his sons made themselves vile, restrained them 



PARENTAL DUTIES. H " 

not; read the character, conduct, and end of David's two 
sons, Absalom and Adonijah ; of the latter, it is said, 
" His father had not displeased him at any time, in saying, 
Why hast thou done so ?" 1 Kings, 1 : 6. 

Look around you, and on every side you will see par- 
ents reaping the bitter fruits of their impious indifference 
to the instruction and salvation of their children. 

In urging upon parents their obligation religiously to 
instruct their children, we may appeal to their patriotism. 
They are bound to regard this duty by all the love they 
bear to their country. Religion and morals are the glory 
and strength of a country. "Righteousness exalteth a 
nation, but sin is a reproach to any people." What an 
irreparable injury do ignorant and ungodly parents entail 
upon their country, by leaving to it uninstructed and 
ungodly children ! They become the scourge of the neigh- 
borhood in which they live ; they often become depredators 
upon the property of others, help at a very early period of 
life to crowd our jails, and end their wretched course in 
infamy and disease, if not by the hands of a public execu- 
tioner. It is true, you did not accompany them to the 
haunts of vice and dissipation ; you did not teach them to 
cheat and plunder their neighbors; but you neglected to 
teach them the fear of God ; you neglected to warn and 
admonish them ; you did not pray with them and for them ; 
you did not teach them to observe the Sabbath, nor take 
them with you to the house of God ; instead of restrainino- 
their passions, you indulged them ; instead of bringing 
them up in the ways of truth and holiness, you led them 
into the paths of sinful pleasure ; and thus you initiated 
them mto that course, in which their own passions and the 
temptations of the devil still keep them, progressively ad- 
vancing in wickedness, until they finish their life, it may 
be, blaspheming their God, and cursing the negligence and 
irreligion of their parents. 



12 PARENTAL DUTIES. 

But consider also the awful destiny of human beings ; 
they are to enter, according to their character, a state of 
endless blessedness or endless misery. 

As for you, yet a little while and you must give an 
account of yourselves unto God. When God gave you 
children, he in fact said to you, " Take these children, and 
bring them up for me." You should also remember, that 
the children of this age are to be the men and women of the 
next. The advantages arising out of the religious instruc- 
tion you give your children, will not be confined to your 
own or to their life, but may be perpetuated to the third 
and fourth generation. This encouragement is beautifully 
expressed and strongly urged in the following passage : 
" For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed 
a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that 
they should arise and make them known to their children ; 
that the generation to come might know them, even the 
children which sliould be born ; who should arise and 
declare them to their children ; that they might set their 
hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his 
commandments." Psalm 78 : 5-7. 

Think of the pleasure of being useful to the souls of 
your children, of being spiritual parents to them, and having 
them as your crown of rejoicing in the great day, so that 
you may then say, " Here am I, and the children whom 
thou hast given me." This will be a source of inexpressi- 
ble delight ; this will make heaven a heaven indeed. But 
on the other hand, to be any way accessory to the eternal 
misery of your children — awful thought! It is more than 
human nature can sustain. Wretched indeed will parents 
be in that awful day, if their children are lost through their 
neglect. Aim, then, in dependence upon God, to instruct 
and save the souls of vour children. 



IVo. 38, 



THE 



SPOILED CHILD 



A NARRATIVE OF FACTS 



BY W. C. BEOWNLEE, D.D 




^^-%^^^- 



The valley thai is bounded by L and S y hills, 

in the county of , and state of N , is remark- 
able for its beauty and fertility. The sluggish stream of 

the P winds slowly in its serpentine course through the 

midst of it, and waters a succession of well-cultivated farms. 
The inhabitants used to be among the most church-going 
and happy people in that district of the country, until, by 

the influence of General and a club of his friends, the 

spirit of infidelity, and with it dissipation and corrupt morals, 
crept in among them. 

VOL I. 14* 



-i THE SPOILED CHILD. 

John C 1 was one of the wealthiest and most influen- 
tial men in the valley. Every thing was neat and well-ar- 
ranged in his mansion, and the outbuildings, and every nook 
and corner of the fences, and the whole farm, displayed the 
hand of the tasteful and diligent cultivator. He was one of 
those men who retained the rural simplicity of the first set- 
tlers of our country. He had received the usual substan- 
tial English education of his day ; his mind was one of a 
high order ; his judgment was discriminating ; his memory 
retained, with unusual tenacity, what he had read. In his 
whole deportment there was just such a dignity and air of 
pleasantness as one might expect to find in a Christian who 
had long walked with God ; who had daily studied his Bible ; 
who had a warm and benevolent heart; who had, next to 
the pastor, been the leading man in the parish ; who had 
been in the magistracy, was honored in his county, and 
had always been accustomed to be consulted in matters of 
delicacy and public interest. The exterior was worthy of 
such a mind : he was a tall, venerable man, the patriarch 
of the valley. 

His house was five miles from the village church ; and 
yet no man was more punctual in his attendance. It was 
never recollected, even by an enemy, that he was in any 
instance late. The secret of it "was this : he rose as early 
on a Sabbath morning as on days of business ; and it was a 
part of his religion not to give any offence, or disturb others, 
during the worship of God, by coming in late. Besides, he 
loved God's sanctuary ; his heart was early there ; and it 
was natural that he should wish to join in the first ascrip. 
tions of praise to God. No ordinary storm would prevent 
him from being, summer and winter, in his place. If it 
rained, he put on a greatcoat ; for he always rode on horse- 
back ; and if it stormed severely, he would put on two. And 
when he reached the church, usually among the foremost, 
ha would gravely observe that it seemed greatly to be de- 
sired that the rain should cease, that those who dwelt close 



"THE SPOILED CHILD. 3 

by might venture into the house of God ; adding, that if, like 
himself, they had five long miles to come, they would proba- 
bly prize in a higher degree the privilege of the sanctuary. 

The domestic arrangements of his family seemed also, 
in all respects, befitting his Christian character and profes- 
sion. And his wife, endowed with singular prudence and 
the other Christian graces, seemed a true help-meet. Every 
morning and evening the whole family was assembled 
around the domestic altar, and the worship of the Most 
High performed with great reverence. In the busiest sea- 
sons he would frequently say to his laborers, " My friends, 
we always find time to take our daily food ; let us also take 
time to worship the Lord our God, and remember, prayers 
and jjrovender never hinder a journey. ^^ 

Here were all the elements of happiness, usefulness, and 
honor, apparently combined. Surely, his neighbors would 

say, Mr. C 1 must be a happy man ; rich in this world's 

goods, and rich in the grace of God ; honored in the church ; 
esteemed and respected by all in the social and political 
circles ; possessed of a fine constitution, and enjoying unin- 
terrupted health : what is there to disturb his mind or mar 
his peace ? 

But it had been long observed by the pastor that there 
was some secret worm at the root of his joys ; and it be- 
came, at length, manifest to all his intimate friends. The 
grace of God will, indeed, carry a Christian through any 
afflictions ; it will give buoyancy to his mind and spirits, in 
the darkest and most distressing hours. Our heavenly 
Father's face shining upon us, will disperse the heaviest 
clouds. An humble and believing view of the Redeemer 
pleading for us at the very moment when we are like to be 
overwhelmed by the waves of sorrow, will send a foretaste 
of heaven's joy into our wounded souls ; and when the 
Holy Comforter seals upon our hearts the consolations of 
his grace, we can praise him, even in the valley of ths 
shadow of death. 



4 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

But of all the sorrows which befall a Christian, that 
which comes nearest to his heart, paralyzing his mind and 
drinking up his joys, is the outbreaking of wickedness in 
his children. 

Mr. C 1 had a son ; he was his eldest child and his 

only son. On this child he had doated ; he had made an 
idol of him. This is the besetting sin of Christian parents, 
especially those who are, by natural temperament, unusually 
kind-hearted and affectionate. It is indeed a strong and 
overpowering temptation. We doat on our offspring; they 
become spoiled children ; and such is the ordering of di- 
vine Providence, we, who have sinfully indulged them, and 
" spared the rod " when we ought to have employed it to 
drive away folly from the young heart, according to the 
command of God, learn, to our sorrow, that they are em- 
ployed, in our old age, as the rod in God's hand to chastise 
our criminal indulgence ! 

It has been unfeelingly asserted, particularly by some 
who are unfriendly to religion, that "pious parents have 
generally very wicked children.'* But facts do not warrant 
the assertion. On the contrary, the fact of an eminent 
Christian, whether minister or layman, having a profane 
child, always calls forth marked attention as something 
which the public did not expect in such a family ; whereas 
it is never a wonder with any one, that wicked and profane 
children should proceed out of wicked and profane fami- 
lies. The Christian parent, however, in the hour of sorrow 
for the waywardness of his children, will make great 
searchings of heart into the causes of it. The promise of 
God is full before him, he seeks not to pervert or modify its 
import: " Train up a child in the way he should go, and 
when he is old he will not depart from it." He bemoans his 
delinquencies in many, yea, in innumerable instances, 
which the eyes of the world have never perceived, but 
which his own delicate conscience promptly discovers. 
Such was the fact with the father whose character we have 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 5 

been describing. No enlightened Christian, perhaps, was 
ever more ready to admit his delinquencies before God ; or 
more earnest, by prayer and supplication, to regain the 
ground he had lost, and subdue what had hitherto baffled 
his skill. 

It was on one of those beautiful days in our autumn, 
when every thing in the country is smiling under the pro- 
fusions of the divine beneficence, that Doctor F., the pastor 

of the village of B , made a visit to Mr. C 1, who 

was a ruling elder in his church. 

He found him sowing his fields with the winter grain. 
He would not permit him to desist from his labor, and there- 
by interrupt the arrangements of the day ; but he walked 
side by side with him, discoursing on general topics ; and 
finally, on the state of the church, and the happy prospect 
of an answer to their prayers, in a revival of religion. For 
often had that village been blessed with seasons of refresh- 
ings from the presence of the Lord, accompanied by a rich 
ingathering of souls ; and there were now some cheering 
evidences of another outpouring of the Spirit. 

While they were thus engaged, the son of Mr. C 1, 

a lad about seventeen years of age, approached to mock : 
he groaned, and made singular grimaces, or laughed aloud, 
as he walked immediately behind his father ; and at the end 
of the ridge next to tJie house, having caught up a young 
animal, he contrived, by tormenting it, to make it utter one 
continued yell. This he did in defiance of the solemn 
rebukes of the pastor, and the entreaties and threats of his 
too indulgent parent. An end had been thus put to all 
regular conversation ; and at this last outrage the aged 
father wept in silence, and sought to conceal his tears as he 
hurriedly sowed his field. 

This ebullition of youthful fury had been caused, it was 
afterwards discovered, by the father's peremptory Tefusal 
of the usual supply of money. Like too many parents, fool- 
ishly indulgent, he had yielded to the dominion which his 



6 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

only son possessed on his heart, and had given liberally 
and often. This only created an appetite for more. He 
soon found himself compelled to give liberally, simply to 
get rid of his importmiate duns. And having made the 
discovery which, as a wise man, he ought to have antici- 
pated as naturally as any common effect from a common 
cause, that this free indulgence with money had led him 
into habits of dissipation, and that the present solicitation 
was made to enable him to take the lead at a " frolic " in 
the tavern of the adjacent village, he had positively refused 
him. The young man now left his father's presence with 
a threat that "he would have money, and just that sum 
which he needed ; if not one way, at least by another, 
which he (his father) might conjecture.^' 

This was too much for a tender parent's heart to endure. 
He took hold of the pastor's arm and led him to the shade 
of an aged apple-tree ; and placing him beside his wife, who 
had joined him by this time, he sat down and wept. 

" My poor ruined boy !" was all he could now utter in 
his grief. His wife and the pastor also burst into tears. 

" I now see my error," said the afflicted parent, after a 
short pause, as if awakened from the sleep of long delu- 
sion ; " my eyes are opened to the calamity that has be- 
fallen us. But oh ! sir," he added, as he grasped the 
pastor's hand, " how can I retrace my steps ? O my God, 
have mercy, have mercy on my poor spoiled child ! God 
of my fathers, who didst in thy tender compassion bring 
me into thy fold, look in mercy on my poor son ! Thou, 
O Lord, didst convert a Manasseh, and didst arrest a perse- 
cuting Saul in his wicked course on the way to Damascus 
to murder thy saints, and didst reclaim the sottish prodi- 
gal — O have mercy on my son ! Let the riches of thy 
grace, Father in heaven, triumph, one day, in his return to 
thee and to his parents' heart! You may well ask me, 
dear pastor, why I do not correct him. Could I succeed in 
detaching him from his companions, then, perhaps, 1 might 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 7 

do it with some hope ; but until that be done, correction 
may only drive him to a more desperate resistance ; or, 
more probably, to a final abandonment of my roof; and 
ultimately to the commission of some fearful crime ; and 
thence — my soul is tortured at the bare possibility of it — to 
a public and ignominious suffering ! But I have not yet 
revealed the secret cause of all this mischief There is a 
demon in him, which sets at defiance Christian discipline 
and the rod of correction ; yes, in him, young as he is — I 
mean the lust of strong drink ! This, with the influence 
of vicious companions, has, I am grieved to say, seared, as 
with a hot iron, the sensibilities of his conscience and of 
natural affection. O ! I look back on the past, and I see 
my fatal errors staring me in the face !" 

" Did you not commit a great error," said the pastor 
with tenderness, " in not sustaining the discipline under 
which his teacher sought judiciously and faithfully to 
bring the daring and turbulent spirit of this youth ? This 
I once recollect to have witnessed, and ventured to predict 
the result." 

"We did, dear pastor, we did," was the answer, as he 
cast his eyes on his afflicted wife with more of sorrow 
than reproof, " we did ; and here is an exceedingly great 
evil under the sun, and an error committed by almost every 
parent. The teacher is one of the most useful officers in 
the republic ; one of the most necessary and influential 
office-bearers among us;, one who walks forth over the 
land, bearing the future destinies of our country and the 
church, as it were, in his hand. He has the training of the 
rising generation, the hope of our country and of the church 
of God ! What an important, what a responsible office ! 
Yet how often, and how much is it despised ! and it is mis- 
erably ill-paid, moreover, and still worse treated ! When 
the school-master would bring the wayward spirits of our 
spoiled children under a wholesome discipline, both parents 
are, in too many instances, in arms against him. And 



8 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

their ill-timed and foolish pity fails not to sustain the boy 
in open and daring rebellion against his teacher, and in the 
repetition of fresh crimes. This parental interference, by 
paralyzing the arm of salutary discipline, has helped to 
consummate the ruin of many a hapless youth !" 

" This has been a fatal error," said the almost heart- 
broken wife ; " but this is not all : frivolous excuses, I 
remember to my sorrow, would be sustained by us, for 
neglecting his evening tasks ; the slightest indisposition, 
and (I am mortified to think how easily we were deceived) 
that, too, very often pretended, and our excessive anxiety 
about the ' dear child's ' health, would be reason enough for 
allowing him to absent himself whole days from school. 
And then, from our foolish fondness, he would gain per- 
mission from us to rove about from house to house, and, 
what was worse, to absent himself whole nights from his 
parental roof. It is thus that a young mind acquires, at too 
early an age, a taste for company ; its inexperience lays it 
open to cruel temptations, while it is too young to derive, 
without a parent's or a teacher's guidance, any real benefit 
from it. This early taste, or I should rather say, this pas- 
sion for company, together with a plentiful supply of money 
from indulgent parents, has laid the foundation of utter ruin 
to many thousands and tens of thousands of youth. And I 
know it to my sorrow, dear pastor, that in the young and 
inexperienced mind, where we are not busy in sowing the 
good seed of God's word, the evi4 one is very busy and 
successful in sowing tares." 

" How easy it is to see errors," said the father, " when 
the bandage of our delusions is thus torn from our eyes. 
Ah ! sir, experience is the mother of wisdom. One of our 
principal errors was that of allowing our child to associate 
with vicious boys, until they had so entwined themselves 
around his heart, that no influence or authority of ours 
could detach him from the snare. And often, I remember 
it with the bitterness of remorse, when I should have wooed 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 9 

him over with kindness, I have, in my wrath, reproached 
the character of his associates to his face. The conse- 
quence was just such as every wise student of human na- 
ture must have observed. His galled spirit clung closer 
and closer to them, as^ they were persecuted by me for his 
sake. There is a witchery in a young profligate's com- 
panions, which parents have never duly conceived. It is 
the result of that depravity which pervades the human 
heart, and which makes us averse to all that is good, and 
swift to learn and to practise what is evil. One hour's 
influence of profligate company on a young mind may not 
be effaced by days and months, and even years of parental 
labor and prayer." 

" And, my friends," said the pastor, "there was a defect 
in your efforts to win over his love for the house of God. I 
have always lent ray countenance to the practice of our 
good old fathers, which is still kept up in our church, of 
bringing the children into the house of God on the holy day 
of rest. God, by the mouth of his servant Joel, commanded 
the children, and even the babes at the breast, as well as 
the elders and the people, to be assembled before him in the 
solemn convocation. And our Redeemer, in the days of 
his humiliation, charged parents and the disciples ' not to 
forbid little children when coming unto him ;' ' for of such,' 
said he, ' is the kingdom of heaven.' We must train them 
up, in infancy, by our prayers, privately, and in the house 
of God ; and in riper years, by parental and pastoral in- 
struction. And thus, by the grace of God, we can beget a 
respect and a love for the courts and the ordinances of 
God, in the young and tender mind." 

"Yes, dear pastor," cried the father, "here, in the 
weakness of our hearts, did we commit another great error. 
The slightest excuses were often sustained ; and ' the dear 
child ' must be spared the journey, and the pain of going to 
church, and of sitting so long, and being confined so long 
in church ! And there was ajiother error, as serious on 



10 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

our part, by which the mischief was consummated. When 
we were urgent to overcome his aversion to the church, 
which we invariably found to be strengthened by every 
fresh indulgence and permission to stay at home, he would 
then, to get rid of our importunity and command, beg per- 
mission to go to the church in the next village, which 
happened to be nearer. And in order to induce him to go 
somewhere to the house of God, we thus left him, or rather 
abandoned him to himself. That which we ought to have 
anticipated and feared, did take place. His vicious com- 
panions took the charge of him ; and they led him, not into 
the house of God, but into the village taverns ! Whole 
Sabbaths had he thus spent before we made the appalling 
discovery !" 

" And then," said the pastor, " did not your too fond and 
compliant hearts ^\?ice funds too j^rofusely at his disposal, 
even from the first?" 

" Ah ! sir," cried the father, -' that was my next error, 
which, perhaps, gave pungency and fatality to the rest. I 
gave him money, first, because ' I loved the dear child ;' 
then I gave him money, because I saw other parents giving 
liberally to their children ; and then I gave him money, 
because my pride said, ' My only son shall not be behind 
his comrades in any thing;' and, finally, I confess that 
latterly I gave many sums purely out of self-defence, or an 
indolent aversion to resistance, simply to get rid of his im- 
portunate duns ! And now I can say, from experience, 
that these ill-timed donations to children fail not to beget 
new wants, and new appetites, and new desires. This evil 
is like the dropsy in the natural body, it increases by its own 
means of indulgence. The more water the dropsical man 
drinks, the more thirsty he becomes, and the more inveterate 
is his disease rendered by every fresh draught. That 
parent who lavishes 'pocket-money' on his child, before 
he has acquired sound principles and prudence to control 
his passions, and a spirit of enlightened charity and good 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 11 

taste to make a wise use of it, exerts his influence directly 
to initiate him into habits of gambling, intemperance, glut- 
tony, and their attendant revolting vices. He furnishes the 
means of gratification ; he lays the train, and puts into the 
hands of his child the lighted torch and the match ready to 
be applied ! All this, alas ! to my sorrow, have I done. 
And when, at length, I did awaken to the frightful con- 
sequences, now too evident in the confirmed habits of vice 
in my poor ruined boy, I found myself adding another error 
to the former, and thereby helping on the mischief. When 
I was dunned with incessant clamors to supply the appetite 
which my folly helped to create, I have replied fiercely, 
adding reproach and insult to refusal, instead of making the 
efibrt with paternal kindness and love to reclaim him. 
What was the result ? Just what you have witnessed, and 
what might have been anticipated in one whose conscience 
is seared, and who is prepared for the most debased and 
debasing conduct ; just that which is practised by unprin- 
cipled and ruined sons and apprentices every day. He 
actually abstracted property, article after article, weekly ; 
he even drove off, in my absence, the sheep and young 
cattle, to pay his delts of Jionor ; namely, his tavern and 
gambling debts! And O! sir, 1 am well aware, that 
within an hour he has been repeating this robbery on his 
father !" 

" It is a desperate case !" said the pastor, after a long 
pause of sorrowful silence. "But all that you have been 
alluding to, my dear friend, are only the branches of the 
evil you deplore. If you go farther back than to his boy- 
hood at school, perhaps you may discover the root. And, 
my dear madam," continued he, in the most tender and 
respectful manner, " I allude to a mother^s earliest influence 
over the young heart, to show how much depends on a 
mother's care ; not by any means to insinuate that you, 
like Eve, were first in the transgression. But did you not 
miss, in his early infancy, or at least in the earliest part of 



12 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

his boyhood, the grand opportunity of establishing your 
parental authority in the heart of your dear boy ?" 

" I fear I did," said she, with great emotion ; " and often 
have I bewailed it. Ah ! sir, I am assured that a child is 
capable of receiving instruction, ay, and of being spoiled, as 
it regards religious matters, sooner than most mothers have 
any just conception of. I did, indeed, long for the grace 
of God to sanctify his soul — and earnestly, if I know my 
own heart, did I pray for this. But, on review, it is a 
question involving serious doubt with me, whether I did 
labor aright, or use the means of God's grace in a skilful 
and judicious manner, to convey the truth into his young 
heart, and establish there a sense of God's authority, and 
thence of my own as a parent. I did not make, I fear, a 
scriptural effort to melt down his heart, by causing the 
knowledge, and thence the fear of the great God, Creator, 
Preserver, Redeemer, and Judge, to distil, as it were, drop 
by drop, on his mind and heart ; and by teaching him to 
pray to God as soon as reason dawned, and as soon as he 
could lisp a word. The first word I should have taught 
him, the first sentence I should have made him breathe out, 
should have been, ' Thou, God, seest me !' And then, again, 
I fear I did not take sufficient care to soothe his spirit when 
ruffled, and subdue by reason and kindness his little fits of 
violence and brawlings, and woo him over by love and 
firmness. I have known a mother do this by singing softly 
a melting hymn on the ear of her little child ; and by teach- 
ing it also to sing a sweet and plaintive hymn, as well as to 
pray with infant lisp, to the great God who always sees us ! 
Awe and submission to God, I am fully persuaded, is the 
only true basis of genuine and unaffected submission and 
reverence to parents. It must be so, if it be a moral virtue, 
and not mere instinct. And there are no genuine morals 
without a principle of religion. Hence, the pagan is 
described as 'without natural affection:' the parent sac- 
rifices his child, and the child his parent ; and we have 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 13 

painful evidence, that a profligate child is likewise without 
natural affection! O! it was here I failed. I see my 
error. I should never have given up. I should have daily 
renewed my efforts. I should have labored and wrestled 
in prayer ; until, by the grace of God, I saw the fruits of 
my exertions showing themselves in filial reverence and 
submission, based on the fear and the love of God." 

She paused, and wiped her flowing tears. " These are 
not tears of sorrow and despair, dear pastor," she added, 
after she had composed herself, " neither are these the con- 
jectures of a theorist. I saw my error with my boy ; God, 
I trust, was my guide in training that dear child, my daugh- 
ter, who is advancing to us : she is not only a sweet child 
to comfort us in our sorrows — I have reason to believe that 
God has changed her heart ; and I know not that she has 
ever needed a reproof from her dear father these three years 
past. But I am interrupting you ; you were about to say 
something" 

At this moment the daughter came up, a beautiful girl 
of fourteen or fifteen years, who cast a look of tender anx- 
iety on her parents ; and, saluting the kind pastor, with the 
frank and blushing simplicity of innocence, as she present- 
ed her hand to receive his cordial welcome, she sat down by 
her mother's side. The pastor went on. 

"I have learned, from painful experience," said he, 
" that many parents, and even some of them the most pious, 
are apt to prove defective in two grand points: in their 
domestic discipline, and the early training of their chil- 
dren." 

They are defective in the matter employed to train them, 
and in the manner of applying the proper matter. Some 
parents I have found defective in both of these ; some in the 
former, others in the latter." 

" Have the goodness to explain yourself more fully," 
said the father. The pastor went on. 

" To understand how a parent may be defective in the 



14 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

matter which he is to employ in the training of his children, 
you need only to recollect that vital godliness, as Mrs. 

C 1 has just now hinted, is the only true basis of all 

genuine morality ; and therefore of all pure moral order, 
such as is pleasing in the eyes of God, in families, as well 
as in the community. I do not deny that there may be 
morals, even lovely morals, and virtuous deportment in a 
person destitute of true religion. And I also admit that 
these are good and valuable in their place, and so far as 
they go. Our blessed Saviour looked on the young man 
spoken of in the Gospel, who had, in the exterior, kept the 
commandments, ' and loved him,' though his heart was as 
yet a stranger to vital piety . We instinctively love such a 
character, while we are disgusted with vice and profligacy. 
But all those lovely and beautiful traits are, nevertheless, 
radically defective : they can no more be compared with the 
virtues and morality of the Gospel, I mean ' the beauties of 
holiness,' than the apples said to grow on the margin of the 
Dead Sea, with these golden apples of a skilful hand's 
engrafting, which you see richly clustering on that mag- 
nificent tree before us. The former were fair, very fair, to 
human view ; but they were light and deceptive : the 
interior was filled up with black dust, emblematical of the 
depraved and unconverted heart of the mere moralist. But 
the latter, these rich apples on that grafted tree, are solid, 
sound to the core, and delicious. ' Neither circumcision, 
nor uncircumcision,' that is to say, no exterior virtues, or 
accomplishments, or mere profession, ' availeth any thing ' 
before God at his bar, for our personal justification and 
acceptance — no, nothing but our Redeemer's righteousness; 
and for morals, nothing hut 'a new creature.^ 

" And this, my dear friends, opens up the true secret 
why the philosopher and moralist, who trust in human vir- 
tue alone, with all its defects, have 7iever succeeded in this 
matter. There is nothing in philosophy, there is nothing 
in the most eloquent declamation on virtue, nothing in the 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 15 

most persuasive words of man's wisdom, that can ever con- 
vey the life, or spirit, or principle of vital religion into the 
human heart, after having conquered all the opposition from 
the devil, the world, and the flesh. Hence these never did, 
and they never can convert a man ; they never have made, 
they never can make a true Christian. They may appear 
to be limpid streams ; but they are the streams of Damas- 
cus ; not the divinely-appointed and health-giving waters 
of the River of the God of Israel. The life of the Spirit of 
God is not in them. ' If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is 
a new creature.' ' I, through the law, am dead to the law, 
that I might live unto God. I am crucified with Christ: 
nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me : and 
the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of 
the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.' 
Hence, it is only when we are risen with Christ, that we 
' seek those things which are above,' and do ' mortify our 
members,' and bring forth the fruits of holiness in 'good 
works, which God hath ordained that we should walk in 
them.' 

" It is easy to see, then, that where ' the life of Christ' 
is wanting, no fruits of holiness can be produced ; this 
' life of Christ' wanting, the very basis of pure morality is 
wanting. 

" But the Spirit of God is the only author of this life. 
For this is the testimony of God : ' We are his workmanship, 
created in Christ Jesus,' ' by the washing of regeneration, 
and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.' Eph. 2 : 10 ; Titus 
3 : 5. And in the production of the ' new creation,' the 
Holy Ghost employs, not the moral declamation, and the 
enticing words of the philosophy of this world ; not the per- 
suasions of 'science falsely so called :' these may be useful 
and ornamental in their place ; they may be as choice 
pearls ; but what are pearls to a hungering and thirsting 
soul ? what are pearls to the famished Arab in the dry and 
barren wilderness ? It is the voice of God onlv that raises 



16 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

the dead ; it is the precious truth of the Gospel alone, which 
the Holy Ghost employs to convince and convert sinners ; 
it is the bread and the water of life alone, that can bring 
back the fainting spirit of man, and can sustain the life of 
God in the soul. The words of our Lord are explicit on 
this point. We are ' born again, not of corruptible seed, 
but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and 
abideth forever. And this is the word which, by the Gos- 
pel, is preached unto you.' And, under a deep sense of our 
responsibility, and in the faithful and diligent use of all the 
means and ordinances appointed of God, we ' purify our 
souls in obeying the truth, through the Spirit, unto un- 
feigned love of the brethren,' and ' building up ourselves 
on our most holy faith, praying in the Holy Ghost, we keep 
ourselves in the love of God,' and ' grow in grace,' till we 
come ' unto the perfect man ; to the measure of the stature 
of the fulness of Christ.' 

" And I need not tell you, my friend, how fruitless 
would be your labor in planting, in this beautiful orchard 
of yours, a tree ' twice dead,' which had been, long ago, 
' plucked up by the roots ;' or, how fruitless would be your 
utmost diligence and painstaking in plowing and sowing 
these fine fields of yours, if you throw in the wrong seed. 
He who resorts to human means, and human wisdom only, 
in the training of his family, and adopts the world's cold 
and lifeless morality, instead of the living and powerful 
word of God's Gospel, is actually sowing tares instead of 
wheat. He may toil late and early ; but he will, at the 
last, be mortified to find that the crop will be tares, and 
nothing but tares ! This, my dear friend, is the dangerous 
result of erring in the matter of training." 

" Ah ! dear pastor," exclaimed Mr. C 1, " it may be 

that I have erred in the skilful use of all this ; but not, as 
I trust, in the matter itself. What you have kindly recited 
are the truths which my soul loves. We have erred, I 
think, less in the matter, than in the manner of applying 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 17 

them. Will you, dear pastor, have the goodness briefly to 
notice the usual failures here." 

" Touching this matter," said the pastor, " it is not only 
our duty, but a pleasure to copy the manner of our divine 
Master in all points practicable. Now, it must have struck 
you that our Lord exhibited the most perfect kindness, 
tenderness, and benevolence, in the whole manner of his 
instruction. Let us, then, put kindness, tenderness, and 
benevolence foremost, in the list of the graces of parental 
government. Let our whole souls flow forth in kindliest 
emotions. O ! let us ever think of the unutterable value 
of the souls of children entrusted to our care ; let us lose 
no opportunity, let us spare no pains to pluck them as 
brands from the burning. Let us never cease to woo over 
their souls to Christ, by our entreaties, by our tears, by our 
prayers, by our love, by our example. Knowing the ter- 
rors of the Lord, let us use the most touching persuasions 
which the yearning of parental love can suggest. 

" But, alas ! how often do parents err in this point ! The 
error sometimes arises from an irritable temper ; passion 
overwhelms reason and reflection ; we do not stop to recol- 
lect how much our own dear parents bore with our way- 
wardness and follies ; we forget how much, and how long 
our heavenly Father has borne with us ; we forget how in- 
consistent is this hasty spirit with the character of Christian 
parents, who must be 'apt to teach,' and therefore patient 
and long-suffering. The error sometimes proceeds from a 
failing leaning to virtue's side. A Christian has warm and 
strong feelings of piety ; these hurry him on ; and he does 
not exercise calm reflection, so as to make the proper and 
necessary allowances for youth's thoughtlessness and follies. 
But did our Father in heaven bear with us ? Did our Mas- 
ter forgive us ten thousand talerits, and shall we not bear 
with our children, and forgive them a hundred pence ? Shall 
we, who profess to be the children of the light, not remem- 
ber that we must subdue the young heart by the discipline 
VOL. I. 15 



18 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

of truth, applied with labor and prayer, not by force or the 
spirit of persecution ! 

" And permit me also to add here, that we who are par- 
ents are often a good deal defective in another valuable 
quality, or virtue, if you will allow me to call it so — I 
mean, cheerfulness. To the absence of this, and the influ- 
ence of moroseness, may we not, in a great measure, 
ascribe the aversion so manifest in many young people, of 
the higher and middling ranks, to the topic of religious con- 
versation ? In all our allusions and conversations on the 
matter of religion, we should carefully study to make it 
what it is in sober reality, the most lovely and the most 
charming thing in the world ! 

" Much wisdom and spiritual skill are required in niak- 
ing a cheerful and exhilarating improvement of the Sahbath 
evening. In recalling to memory and reviewing the duties 
and exercises of the day, we should studiously endeavor to 
make our fireside and Sabbath evening conversations the 
most delightful and most captivating possible to the young 
mind. There are some parents and masters of families so 
stern, so awful, so morose in their manner, that their exhi- 
bitions of the lovely Gospel of Christ are really revolting 
to young persons. They seem to mistake sternness for so- 
lemnity, moroseness for zeal, and a spirit to find fault with 
and chide every one, for a spirit of piety and purity. They 
seem as if they took a pleasure in picturing out religion, 
not as an angel in robes of glory, but as a dark and lower- 
ing demon, come to rob us of our joys ! This cannot fail 
to excite disgust. To this cause, and also, in an equal, if 
not superior degree, to another cause — I mean the total 
absence of all religious conversation at a parent's fireside — , 
do I ascribe the prevailing dislike for religious conversa- 
tion among young people. 

" But, my dear friends, while I recommend cheerfulness, 
I would implore every Christian parent to be on his guard 
against the want of a proper and becoming gravity. An 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 19 

ill-timed levity has, in many instances, produced lasting and 
most injurious consequences. Gravity and cheerfulness 
are perfectly consistent, and even congenial ; it is the for- 
mer which prevents the latter from degenerating into utter 
levity. Never, on a Sabbath evening, and never on a 
religious subject, should becoming gravity permit the intro- 
duction of wit and levity ; far less, ' foolish talking or jest- 
ing, which are not convenient.' It was one of that learned 
and truly godly man. President Edwards' recorded rules of 
life, ' never to say a thing on the Lord's day which would 
excite mirth or a laugh.' This should be strictly observed 
by every Christian parent and master of a family. We 
may be perfectly cheerful without mirth and laughter. 
Let every thing be in its proper place, and always season- 
able. 

" There is another defect in the manner, which I cannot 
omit : the want of a due equanhnity of temper. This is 
usually betrayed by impatience and irritation. It is of 
essential importance, not only to be on our guard against 
these, but to have the mind cured of them, as an exceeding 
great evil. A parent should never use the rod until he is 
convinced, on cool recollection, that it is his imperative duty 
to have recourse to it : he should never correct a child until 
he has convinced him of his error and crime ; he should 
never correct a child in a passion : to do so is to indulge a 
spirit of revenge, not to exercise salutary parental disci- 
pline. His whole manner should indicate to the child that 
he administers the correction with the utmost reluctance, 
and from a painful sense of duty. An estimable friend of 
mine had an untoward son : he had committed a crime 
against the laws of the household : he took him into the 
family circle, spent some time in explaining to him liie 
nature and the evil of that crime, and laying the rod down, 
he said, ' It is my duty, my child, to correct you ; but I 
will do it in the fear of God. Let us first pray.' The 
whole family circle threw themselves on their knees, while 



20 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

he poured out, with deep emotions, and many tears, a prayer 
for his stubborn and rebellious child. The culprit alone 
remained standing ; but the prayer and tears of his father 
melted his refractory heart, and he kneeled down also. The 
correction was administered with evident distress ; but it was 
light, for the child bowed instantly in submission and peni- 
tential confessions. And to my knowledge it was the last 
he ever needed. He is still alive ; and a more dutiful and 
excellent son you will not readily find. 

" There is another defect, which is originated by a 
parent's constitutional indolence and aversion to the trouble 
and pain of discipline. This dangerous failing has made 
many a parent criminally yield to his own ease or natural 
feelings. 

" And finally, my friends, a painful defect shows itself 
in the want of a proper unity between the parents. One 
parent scolds when he ought to administer solemn but affec- 
tionate rebukes ; while the other parent takes the child's 
part, and makes an apology for it. One of the parents cor- 
rects in wrath ; the other interferes, and pities the ' poor 
child,' and insists that it shall not be corrected. The child 
thus creates an insurrection in the family, and contrives to 
escape in the unseemly brawl. The result is, that he laughs 
at the weakness of both parents, and soon begins to set pa- 
rental authority at defiance." 

While the pastor was uttering the last three specimens 
of parental delinquency in the manner of conducting family 
discipline, the elder and his wife, having turned their eyes 
mutually on each other with more of sorrow than reproach, 
beo-an to testify their unaffected grief. They were both 
bathed in tears. It had occurred to them that this was the 
main origin and source of the evil which they were now 
bitterly deploring. 

Towards evening the pastor, previous to his departure, 
took some pains to find out the youth ; and bringing him in, 
placed him by his father's side, and addressed another of 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 21 

his pastoral admonitions to him. There was a dignity in 
the pastor's manner which seldom failed to command the 
awe and attention of this young man, when in his common 
moods. It is true, he had insulted him in the field, but it 
was in a gust of passion, which was now, for a season at 
least, soothed into a calm. But the pastor knew not the 
depth of that youth's depravity. He was silent, but unsub- 
dued. 

The pastor commenced his address to him in a tone of 
unaffected tenderness, while he sought to conceal the tears 
which coursed down his cheeks; but it had no effect 
on him. He rose by degrees into the most touching pa- 
thos, as he addressed himself to the youth's conscience. 
Then he spread out before his mind the terrors of the 
law and the majesty of the Almighty ; and told him of 
the coming hour of death, of judgment, and an eternal 
retribution. 

" My poor boy !" cried the pastor, with the utmost ten- 
derness, " I will not fail to tell thee thy duties, whether thou 
wilt hear, or whether thou wilt forbear. It is the command 
of God to cherish in thy soul the principle ofJiUal affection. 
' Hearken to thy father that begat thee, and despise not thy 
mother when she is old.' And remember, my child, that 
the basis of this affection and veneration which you owe 
your parents, is a holy veneration of God. And O, were 
there a principle of piety towards God in your heart, you 
would not thus break the hearts of your parents. In pro- 
portion as a child has the fear of God before his eyes, 
he is dutiful and affectionate. And in proportion as the 
fear of God is banished from the mind, the child is unnat- 
ural, stubborn, and rebellious. The drunkard and the 
gambler exhibit a mournful evidence of this: they would 
shuffle the implements of their folly and crime at a father's 
death-bed ; they would make their last stake on a mother's 
coffin ! 

" In addition to filial affection, I charge you to render a 



22 - THE SPOILED CHILD. 

corresponding reverence and honor : carry it in all your 
looks ; be courteous, gentle, and kind ; shun petulance and 
the distressing spirit of contradiction, even when you may 
be confident that you are in the right. Never utter a dis- 
respectful word of them to others : he who can do this, 
even when they are in error, lessens the dignity of his family, 
and detracts from his own honor. Like the pious sons of 
Noah, always throw a veil over their frailties and failings ; 
and always be ready to defend them from the tongue of 
slander. And in a particular manner show the substan- 
tial evidence of your filial reverence and honor, by a dig- 
nified deportment before all men, in your intercourse 
with the world. I would not ask a higher compliment 
from a child of mine than this, I mean as it regards tem- 
poral honors. 

'- In addition to this, my child, God enjoins it on you to 
render to your parents a prompt ^/mZ obedience in all things. 
Always lend a willing ear to them in all their instructions. 
Yield up your heart to their injunctions promptly. Humble 
yourself under their admonitions and reproofs. Bow down 
with filial submission under their corrections, whether ex- 
pressed in words,' or in a temporary exile from their pres- 
ence, or by the rod of correction. Consult with them 
frankly, and make them your counsellors and guides ; 
especially in matters of such importance as your establish- 
ment in life, the choice of your employment and business, 
the choice of your company and companions, and in a 
special manner, your early attachments and choice of a 
companion, and in all your spiritual concerns. 

" And, finally, fail not to give them endearing evidences 
of your filial gratitude. This includes in it, love for the 
benefits received, and a high value put on them, on account 
of their proceeding from persons beloved and dear : it in- 
cludes affection to the persons of the donors, joy at the 
reception of favors, and a prompt disposition to render back 
what It can in return for them. 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 23 

" And now, young man, these duties are enjoined by the 
awful authority of God speaking to you in his holy word, 
and by the mouth of your honored parents ; and enforced 
by the captivating example of our Lord Jesus Christ towards 
his mother in early life, and as, in a most touching manner, 
while expiring on the cross, he recommended her, in his 
last moments, to the beloved disciple, with whom she should 
find reverence, affection, and a home ! John 19 : 25, 26. 
Moreover, God has enforced this duty by a promise of long 
life and prosperity ; and when this duty is rendered by faith 
and love to God's authority, it receives its eternal reward in 
the heavens. On the contrary, hear the denunciations of 
Heaven against the rebellious and wicked child : ' Cursed 
be he that setteth light by his father or his mother : and all 
the people shall say, Amen.' Deut. 27: 16. 'The eye 
that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, 
the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young 
eagles shall eat it.' Prov. 30 : 17. Ah ! young man, look 
on these weeping parents, and say, can you dare pursue 
the course which will bring down their gray hairs with 
sorrow to the grave ?" 

Having finished his admonitions he kneeled down with 
the afflicted parents, and uttered a fervent prayer for them, 
while he did not forget in his holy wrestlings their poor 
prodigal son ; for he felt that he had received his ministry 
of the Lord, and watched for souls as one who knew he 
was soon to be called to give his last account — even for 
those wdio might be lost, as well as for those who should be 
saved ! 



The writer of this Tract succeeded that venerable min- 
ister in the pastoral charge of the church of B ; and 

when he came into the charge, the pastor, and Mr. C, and 
his wife also, had all departed this life. They all died in 



24 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

great peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. Mr. C. died first, 
and shortly after him his wife, after closing their often-re- 
newed and solemn entreaties and admonitions to their only 
son, to return to the Lord God of his fathers, and avoid 
the miseries of the second death ; and enforcing these 
admonitions with many tears, and by all the solemnities 
of their trial and experience of a dying bed ! The pastor 
had accepted the invitation to take on him the presidency 
of a college, and died in a few months after entering on his 
official duties. 

John C , the son, was the husband of an amiable 

lady, and the father of several beautiful children, when 1 
first visited his mansion. He had been, for a season, re- 
formed, to appearance at least ; and had sustained a tolera- 
bly decent character for about a year after he had been 
married to his excellent wife. But now he had added the 
crime of a boasted and obstinate infidelity to the most dis- 
gusting habits of intemperance. And having once returned 
to them, his latter end was worse than the beginning. He 
was now a miserable and degraded man, lost to all self- 
respect, and reckless of character and public opinion ; his 
wife, once the most beautiful and happy woman in the val- 
ley, was now a broken-hearted and haggard being ; and 
his own children, to complete his misery and degradation, 
fled at his approach, and hid themselves from his presence. 
His fine estate was now involved in debt, and every thing 
around him indicated the condition of one fast sinking into 
ruin. His person, formerly athletic and handsome, ex- 
hibited a revolting spectacle. He had been visited with 
several attacks of the delirium tremens, or the drunkard's 
brain-fever, and yet he would daily drink incredible quan- 
tities of the poisonous liquid which was drowning him in 
perdition ! 

I remember as distinctly as if it had been only yesterday, 
the last visit which I paid him. I was accompanied by an 
elder of the church, who had for some years filled the place 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 25 

of his venerable father. He received us kindly ; he was 
sober, for it was rather early : he sat down on my left side, 
the elder on the other ; his meek and humble wife, with her 
three pretty little children, casting anxious and sorrowful 
looks at their father, placed themselves over against us. A 
deep and painful silence prevailed for some minutes. Every 
thing about the chamber, and about the house, on which the 
eye could rest, exhibited tokens of desolation and wretched- 
ness. This was the inheritance of a spoiled child — the 
house of a drunkard and infidel ! 

" Will you, sir, bring me your father's Bible ?" A 
smile, not of pleasure, but that of the scorner, played over 
his face ; nevertheless, he rose and brought it out, covered 
with dust and cobwebs. 

This led me to notice the very different use which the 
good old man, his father, made of that book, and the use 
which all good men would make of it. He smiled con- 
temptuously, but said nothing, for his wife cast a beseech- 
ing look on him, tempered with her winning sweetness, ren- 
dered more touching by her unaffected sorrow. 

It was a long visit we paid him ; and we endeavored, 
by the help of divine grace, to improve our time. We set 
before him, after reading the nineteenth psalm, a brief out- 
line of the authenticity and divinity of the Holy Scriptures ; 
and begged respectfully his attention to it. " Ah ! sir, this 
points out to you the good old way in which your fathers 
walked, and found rest and happiness : I appeal to your 
own experience if you have ever tasted one drop of happi- 
ness or peace in your wanderings from these ways." He 
turned away from the discussion with a sally of ridicule ; 
yet in that sarcastic laugh a child might have seen that 
he felt miserable in his soul. His wit had pierced his own 
conscience. 

We turned to another subject — the nature and the worth 
of the immortal soul. " O let the son of your father re- 
member the words of Him whose lips never spoke false- 
VOL. I. 15- 



26 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

hood, even Him whose lips, as the Lord God of Hosts liveth, 
will ere long judge you at his tribunal ! O hear his words : 
' What is a man profited, though he should gain the whole 
world, and lose his own soul ? or what shall a man give in 
exchange for his soul V O what will you feel — what will 
you say — what will you do, when you are in the last awful 
conflict — in the act of leaving this world ! — and soon — soon 
will you be summoned to leave it ! As the Lord liveth, 
and as your soul liveth, there is only a step between you 
and death ! O wiiat w411 you feel — what will you say — 
what will you do, when the eternal world in all its fearful 
realities, in all its overpowering glories and terrors, shall 
burst on your astonished and disembodied soul ! O hear 
me — return to the Lord God of your father ! I beseech 
you, by Him who loved us, and gave himself for us — by 
him who died on the cross for us — by the Lord Jesus 
Christ, I beseech you, return to your God ! By the mem- 
ory of that dear old man your father — by the memory of 
his tears, and prayers, and vows — by the memory of that 
dear saint of God, now in heaven, your mother, who bare 
you, and nui^sed you in her bosom, and wept and prayed 
over you — whose last prayer and sigh were breathed from 
her dying lips for you — O return to your God ; and break 
off your sins by repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ !" 

He burst into tears, and placing his hands on his 
face, bowed himself down, his face on his knees, and wept 
aloud. 

We all kneeled down and prayed. The miserable 
man kneeled close by me. My heart was utterly over- 
come : I poured out my soul in almost incoherent words : 
I implored the outpouring of the Holy Ghost on him, his 
wife, and his dear little children. Every one of us wept, 
the very children sobbed, and I shall never forget the scene. 
The floor where the prodigal son bowed his head was wet 
with his streaming tears. 



THE SPOILED CHILD. 27 

The sun was now setting : w^e took our leave of him 
with a cordial embrace. He led us to our horses, and on 
parting besought us to visit him soon again. 

But, alas ! it was our last interview with him. I never 
saw him more. I was called into a neighboring State on 
business of the churches, and I was absent two weeks. 
The first news I learned, as I alighted at my own door, on 
my return, was the appalling intelligence that poor John 

C WAS DEAD, AND BURIED ! 

I learned in brief his last moments from the elder who 
had accompanied me on my last visit, and who had seen 

him when dying. Poor C was attacked with fits : he 

raved in his deliriums. At intervals he recovered his 
senses, and for a season was somewhat composed in his 
mind, but expressed deep compunctions and sorrow for his 
evil ways and doings. When he felt himself dying, he 
became awfully alarmed. He seemed actually frantic. 
The very bed shook under him ; as if with supernatural 
strength, he tried to raise himself up ; and shrieked out 
for some moments, " O Lord Jesus, have mercy on me ! 
God of my father, have mercy on me ! O Christ, have 
mercy on me! O curses, curses on the head of General 

, who seduced me from the ways of my father's God 

into his infidel ways ! Curses on my vicious companions, 
who taught me to break the Sabbath, and to dishonor and 
disobey my father and mother ; and led me into taverns, 
instead of the church of my fathers ! O mercy, mercy, 
Lord, on me, a poor miserable outcast !" Thus he contin- 
ued wailing, sometimes crying for mercy, and frequently 
uttering fearful imprecations. In a few hours, during 
which there was nothing but horror and distraction in the 
family, his strength, though the strength of a giant, became 
utterly exhausted ; and his spirit, with an agonizing strug- 
gle, took its everlasting flight ! 



28 THE SPOILED CHILD. 

This, as reported to me, was the end of the spoiled 
CHILD. In these solemn facts we set up a beacon, to give 
an awful warning to parents of the fatal rock on which 
they also may strike. " Avoid it, pass not by it, turn 
from it, and pass away !" " O let us hear and fear, and do 
no presumptuous sin !" Let us labor for the conversion 
of our dear children, like those who feel that they are 
laboring to " pluck brands from the devouring fire !" We 

pronounce not on the final destiny of poor John C ; 

but who of us, I beseech you, would wish our children 
to follow his course of life, or to die his appalling death ? 



THE END. 



PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

New York, No. 150 Nassau-street ; BosTo?r, No. 28 Cornhill. 



Wo. 29. 



THE 



CHILD'S GUIDE TO PRAYER 



BY REV. DR. WATTS, 




My dear Young Friends — Give me leave to propose to 
you a few serious considerations, to awaken your desires to 
seek after God, and to pray to him in your early years. 

1. Consider who and what God is. That he is an Al- 
mighty Being, who made the heavens, and the earth, and the 
sea, and all things that are in them ; that he is a Spirit, and 
that he is everywhere present, though you cannot see him ; 
that he knows all things that you do, and that he can do all 
that you desire of him ; that he is holy, and hates sin, and 
yet that he is very good and full of mercy, even to his sin- 



2 child's guide to prayer. 

ful creatures ; that he is the greatest, the wisest, and the 
best of beings. And does he not expect you should love 
and honor him, who is so great and so good ? Is he not 
your heavenly Father ? Did he not make you to love, 
and serve, and worship him ? And how can you pretend 
to serve and love him, if you never pray to him ? 

2. Consider who and icliat you are. Do not your own 
hearts and consciences tell you that you have done many 
things amiss, and that you have provoked that God who 
made you, to be angry with you, and to take away all your 
comforts ? And are you willing to continue under his an- 
ger for ever 1 Do you know how terrible is the anger of 
God, who can make you miserable in this world and in that 
which is to come? And is he not very gracious, to call 
upon such sinners as you are to pray to him ? Is it not 
necessary, therefore, that you should come humbly before 
him, and fall down on your knees and confess your sins, 
and entreat him to lay his anger aside, and to love you, not- 
withstanding all your offences ? 

3. Consider what are your wants. Do you not daily 
need food and raiment, that you may not suffer sharp hun- 
ger and cold ? Do you not want the continuance of health, 
that you may not pine away with sickness and pain ? Can 
you keep yourselves alive, or can any of your friends keep 
you from dying ? God is the author of all your comforts ; on 
him you depend for daily food and clothing, for health and 
strength, for recovery from sickness, and preservation from 
death. It is from God that you must seek all these things, 
by prayer. 

Are you not exposed to dangers every day, and every 
night ? Do you not need the care of God to keep you ? to 
preserve you from mischief, from fires, and from all evils 
of every kind ? And since you deserve nothing at the 
hand of God, can you suppose he will watch over you, 
and cover you from all evil, if you never call upon him, 
nor ask hi« favor ? 



CHILD S GUIDE TO PRAYER. 3 

Do you not greatly need the forgiveness of your sins ? 
Do not your sins deserve punishment, both here and here- 
after ? And are you not desirous to be delivered from this 
punishment ? But can you expect God will pardon and 
deliver you, if you never pray ? 

And since you cannot do anything to make recompense 
to the great and holy God for your offences, how speedily 
should you apply to Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who 
now dwells in heaven, and who did once make recompense 
by his death for the sins of men ! He is the great Media- 
tor between God and man. How earnestly should you 
pray, that you may enjoy the benefit of his mediation, and 
that he may bring you into a state of peace with God ! 
How should you cry to God, that he will forgive you, for 
the sake of his well-beloved Son ! Since you are sensible 
that you are guilty sinners, you should not be easy one day, 
without seeking to God for mercy. 

Remember, also, that though your sins were pardoned, 
yet you have a sinful nature in you, ready to offend God 
continually. Do you not find yourselves ready to commit 
new sins ? Are you not soon ready to be angry, to strike, 
or call ill names ? Are you never ready to grow uneasy and 
fret, if other children have better things than you ? Are 
you not ready to disobey your parents, or to spend your 
time in play, when you should be at work, or learning your 
book ? Are you not sometimes inclined to hide your faults 
by telling a lie ? Do not you find yourselves ready to learn 
evil words, or to wish evil to others, or take something 
privately that is not allowed you, or to do something that 
is forbidden ? Do you not see, then, how much you need 
to pray for the grace of God, to keep you from sin daily ? 

And are not your minds too ignorant of God and heav- 
enly things ? Is it not a pleasure to think, that God has 
promised his own Holy Spirit, to instruct you in the under- 
standing of holy things, as well as to help you in doing your 
dutv ? This is a blessed promis<=. indeed, to poor ignorant 



4 child's guide to prayer. 

and sinful creatures, such as we are. But can you think 
God will give his grace, or his Holy Spirit, to them who 
never pray to him? Do you not read in your Bible, "If 
fathers give good gifts to their children, how much more 
shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them 
that ask him ?" Do not you know, that Jesus Christ is 
now gone to heaven, to take care of his people when they 
leave this world ? And do you think Jesus Christ will take 
care of your soul, when it comes like a stranger into that 
other world, if you have not committed and entrusted it into 
his hands by prayer ? 

You must stand before God, the judge of all, when you 
die ; and are you prepared to stand before God, if you have 
not obtained a good hope that God loves you 1 There are 
but two places in the other world — heaven and hell. 
Heaven for the righteous, who love God and pray to him ; 
and hell for the wicked, who neither pray to him nor love 
him. And can you hope that God will save you from hell, 
and receive you to dwell with himself, and with his Son 
Jesus Christ, if you never pray to him for these blessings ? 

4. Consider what your mercies are. How kindly has 
God dealt with you ! Has he not given you parents and 
friends, who by his order provide food and raiment, and 
everything convenient for you ? How many poor children 
want these comforts, and are exposed to hunger and cold ! 
Have not your parents and friends taken care that you 
should be taught to read, and learn many things for your 
good ? Do you not know, that it was God who put it into 
their hearts, and also made them able to do it ? How many 
thousand poor creatures are there in the land, who know 
nothing of God, and cannot read a word ! Is it not God 
who has made this happy difference between you and them ? 
And should you not praise him for his goodness ? Have 
you not seen other children blind, or lame, or foolish ? Is 
it not God who has given you your limbs and your senses ? 
Is it not the same good God, that gives you health and 



CHILD S GUIDE TO PRAYER. 5 

peace, night and day ; and are you not bound to thank him 
for these mercies ? What ! would you live like the brute 
beasts, who eat and drink and sleep, and take no notice 
of the great God, from whose hand all blessings come? 

5. Consider what relation you stand in to others. Have 
you not a father and mother that you are bound to honor 
and love ? and would you never pr&.y that God would 
bestow his best blessings on them, and make them live long 
to bring you up in his fear ? Have you not brothers or 
sisters, or other friends and relations ? And have you no 
mercies to ask of God for them ? Do not your teachers 
desire that you should pray to God to bless them, that they 
may the better instruct you ? They pray for you, and you 
should pray for them. 

Since, then, dear children, there are such a multitude 
of reasons that urge you to pray to God, delay no longer, 
but begin this religious work immediately ; and I humbly 
pray that God would abundantly assist and bless you there- 
in, that you may learn, from your own experience, how 
sweet and profitable a thing it is to call upon the name of 
the Lord. 



ADVICE RELATING TO PRAYER. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

1. Seek out a proper time to retire alone by yourself, 
morning and evening, at those seasons wherein you have no 
other necessary business or duty. And here I would per- 
suade myself, that parents, who take due care of the souls 
of children, would not only admonish and encourage them 
to seek God in secret, morning and evening, but would point 
out a proper place for their retirements. 

hi the morning, I would generally say, the earlier the 
better. For if you lose the first opportunity, you will often 
find that you will be utterly hindered from praying, by 
other things that may happen. Besides, it is best to call 



6 child's guide to prayer. 

upon God early, and begin the day with religion, that you 
may beg a blessing on yourself, and on all your business 
that day. Do not begin with the world in the morning, 
before you have been with God. In the evening, I cannot 
say the later the better ; but rather embrace the first con- 
venient evening hour that offers, lest you be drowsy. 
However, it is much better to pray late, than not to pray 
at all. If, at any time, you are hindered in the morning, 
be sure, if possible, that you be not hindered in the evening 
too. But the best way is, to keep pretty nearly the same 
seasons, every day, for your morning and evening retire- 
ments, if your circumstances will allow it. 

2. Seek a proper and convenient place for your secret 
retirements. It is no matter what the place, if it be free 
from disturbance. A bedchamber is generally a proper 
place for those who have not the conveniency of closets. 
Be not afraid to go alone, though it may be sometimes in 
the dark ; you are going to meet with God, and he is ever 
near to them that call upon him. The presence of God is 
an almighty security against all manner of evils. Nothing 
can hurt you while God is with you. 

3. If you have time, in your secret worship, read a 
chapter or two, and a psalm, before you pray. For my 
part, I could wish there were select portions of Scripture 
chosen out, and printed by themselves, for children to read 
in private. However, for want of this, I would recom- 
mend the book of Genesis, and of Exodus as far as the 
twentieth chapter, and the book of Proverbs, and the four 
Gospels, with some practical chapters out of the epistles, 
and especially the book of Psalms, to be the chief subjects 
of their reading in secret, in their younger years. The 
book of Proverbs abounds in useful lessons of prudence, 
and instructions of piety. The book of Psalms is full of 
prayers and praises. And let the word not be read in a 
careless and hasty manner, but with diligent attention, and 
with an endeavor to remember something of it every day. 



4. Leave your business and sports, and all thoughts 
of them, behind, when you retire for worship. Let your 
spirit be composed to great seriousness when you begin to 
pray. The reading of a chapter will help to compose your 
thoughts, and fix them more on divine things. Fall down 
.upon your knees before God in a humble posture, and 
remember that you are come into the presence of the great 
God, that you are going to speak to the Majesty of heaven, 
whom angels worship, and at whose name devils tremble. 
Take heed, therefore, that you do not trifle with him, nor 
take his holy name in vain. He sees your heart, he knows 
all your thoughts, and he observes all your wanderings. 
And for your encouragement also remember, that he takes 
kind notice of every sincere desire that rises from your heart. 

5. Take heed that you speak not anything to God in 
prayer, which is not the sincere thought and desire of your 
own soul. See to it, that your heart agree to the words 
of your prayer, or else do not utter them before God. 
" God is a Spirit ; and they that worship him, must worship 
him in spirit and in truth." He hates a hypocrite, who 
speaks what he does not mean. Speak nothing, therefore, 
which is not suitable to your present case, and is not the 
sense of your own heart. 

6. Take notice, every day, what good or evil falls out 
relating to you, and by this means, perhaps, you will often 
have some particular thing in your mind to mention before 
God ; it may be, some sin to confess, some sorrow to com- 
plain of, some blessing to desire, or some mercy to give 
thanks for. Then be sure to speak it with freedom, in 
your own language. The great God, who hears the young 
ravens when they cry, will much more take notice of the 
voice and language of young children, when they pray to 
him ; and he understands the meaning of your heart, though 
your expressions may not be so proper as you could wish. 

7. If any person whatsoever takes notice of your retir- 
ing daily to pray to God in secret, never be ashamed of it, 



8 child's guide to prayer. 

nor leave off prayer for fear of being seen or known to be 
religious. If you are ashamed of worshipping God your 
heavenly Father, in this world, God will be ashamed to 
own you for one of his children, in the world to come. 

8. When several children join together in prayer, take 
care that nothing be done wdth rudeness or confusion, bui 
let all decency and gravity be practised. Let not him that 
speaks begin, till all are come in, and have fallen down on 
their knees ; and let every one attend to the words spoken, 
and lift up his heart to God, in all the several sentences ; 
that the prayer of every one may be accepted of God, and 
that God may delight to answer the united prayers of chil- 
dren, and pour down his blessing on so religious a family. 

9. To sum up all, I should add, let all your behavior 
in the world, both towards God and towards superiors, and 
towards your fellows, be such as becomes those who profess 
religion, and pray to God morning and evening. Let a 
pious care to please God, and a fear of offending him, run 
through all your speeches and actions. Honor and obey 
your parents and teachers ; love your brothers and sisters ; 
be courteous and kind to all ; abstain from all evil words 
and sinful works ; for your prayers will be useless if you 
continue in wilful sins. The prayers of the wicked, who 
will not repent, are " an abomination to the Lord." 

Make it appear that your hearts are sincere and honest 
in your prayers to God, by endeavoring always to avoid 
those sins which you have confessed, as well as to practise 
those duties in w^hich you have prayed God to assist you ; 
and let it be your daily care to obtain all those blessings, as 
far as in you lies, which you have asked God to bestow upon 
you. Thus, while prayer and practice go together, you 
will become Christians indeed, you will be the comfort and 
joy of your friends in this world, you will always find 
acceptance with God through the mediation of Jesus Christ, 
and in the world to come, be made happy to all eternity. 

PUBLISHED BT THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 30. 

THE 



BEIEYOLEICE OF GOD 



Survey the wondrous cure I 

And at each step let higher wonder rise ! 

Pardon for infinite offence ! and pardon 

Through means that speak its value infinite ! 

A pardon bought with blood ! — with blood divine ! 

With blood of Him I made my foe ! 

Persisted to provoke ! though woo'd and aw'd. 

Blest and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still ! 

A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne ! 

Nor I alone ! a rebel universe ! 

My species up in arms ! not one exempt ! 

Yet, for the foulest of the foul he dies. 

Most joy'd for the redeem'd from deepest guilt ! 

As if our race were held of highest rank. 

And Godhead dearer as more kind to man ! Young. 

Proofs of the divine benevolence may be gathered 
from the widely-extended scene of the visible creation, 
and also from the harmonious operations of providence ; 
but it is proposed at present to restrict ourselves to those 
which arise from the great scheme of redemption. Allow 
us then, 

1. To advert to the character and condition of those for 
whom it has been devised, as a proof that " God is love." 
1 John, 4 : 8. 

It is generally acknowledged, that we are affected by 
a tale of misery in a degree which bears some proportion 
to the original state of the sufferer, or the superior endow- 
ments which he possesses. Suppose, for example, two 
individuals were laboring under the same sentence of con- 



2 BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 

demnation : the one, a man of a strong mind, a fascinating 
genius, a brilliant imagination, whose figure and whose 
manners bore the marks of the most exquisite polish, and 
who had moved in a high orbit of existence ; the other, a 
comparatively mean, ignorant, and uncultivated being ; 
over which would your sympathy spread with the most 
delicate sensibilities ? and if mercy could be obtained only 
for one, to which would you rush to administer it ? We 
know ! But " My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither 
are your ways my ways, saith the Lord." From the lofty 
heights of eternity, Mercy looked down, and beheld the 
angelic and the human nature involved in guilt, and in 
misery ; but she passed by the nature which presented the 
strongest physical and intellectual attractions, to rescue 
man, "doomed to die" — man, in whose warm bosom no 
love to God was cherished, but the most deep-rooted en- 
mity ; on whose moral character no lineaments of the 
divine image could be traced, but rather the evil passions 
which degrade and defile ; and who occupied such an in- 
significant station in the vast universe, that if he had been 
annihilated he would scarcely have been missed. " For 
verily he took not on him the nature of angels ; but he 
took on him the seed of Abraham.'' 

And what part of the human race calls forth this spon- 
taneous expression of benevolence ? We know that the 
moral character of man varies, from the most delicate ami- 
ability, to the most brutal and savage ferocity ; and if we 
had been permitted to speculate on the exercise of mercy, 
we should have predicted that it would be monopolized by 
the most virtuous ; we should have concluded, that the 
.amiable, the intelligent, and the honorable, would be admit- 
ted to a participation of its blessings, while the more de- 
based and ignorant would be left to perish in their sins. 
But saith the Lord, " My thoughts are not your thoughts, 
neither are your ways my ways." It is true, the more 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 3 

virtuous are not denied mercy, but it is not confined to 
them ; they are not forbidden to indulge the hope of final 
happiness, but they are not permitted exclusively to enjoy 
it. The Gospel of Jesus Christ makes provision for the 
salvation of the chief of sinners ; and frequently those 
whom men abhor become the objects of its compassion, 
while the self-complacent and the self-righteous are left 
under the delusions of their own fancy. Hence said our 
Lord to the elders and chief priests of Israel, who trusted 
in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others, 
" Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and the harlots 
go into the kingdom of God before you." How pure and 
ardent must be that love, which could pass by the angels 
who kept not their first estate, to rescue fallen man from the 
awful peril of his condition — and which often passes by 
those who appear, in many respects, very attractive mem- 
bers of the human family, to save the most guilty, the most 
depraved, and the most unhappy ! 

2. The superior state of bliss to which man is ultimately 
to be raised, is another proof that " God is love." 

Man, when created, was placed in the garden of Eden • 
and if ever a local residence was favorable to human felici- 
ty, Eden could boast of unrivalled charms. Intersected 
with flowing streams — decorated with the most majestic 
trees, and with the choicest shrubs and flowers creation 
could supply — rendered melodious by the varied, yet har- 
monious notes of the feathered tribe — and visited by the 
occasional presence of the King Eternal, who threw over 
his uncreated glories a visible form, which, softening their 
radiance, added, if not to their grandeur, yet to their beau- 
ty. Here man dwelt. His eye gazed on a cloudless sky ; 
his ear listened to the song of the earliest bird ; his nostrils 
inhaled the breath of uncorrupted morn ; his heart felt the 
sublimity of bliss. He sinned. Discord rushed from her 
retreat. Misery started up from every bower in Paradise. 



4 BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 

The thunder of the divine displeasure rolled in loud and 
lengthened peals over the once tranquil place. And when 
concealed, as he thought, amidst the thickset trees, the 
voice of insulted Majesty was heard, saying, " Adam, 
where art thou ? And he said, I heard thy voice in the 
garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked ; and I hid 
myself. And he said, Who told thee that thou wast naked ? 
Hast thou eaten of the tree whereof I commanded thee that 
thou shouldest not eat?" The ground is immediately ac- 
cursed ; the agent of seduction is at once doomed to punish- 
ment; and man is driven from his beloved abode into the 
wide world, in which he has wandered from that fatal hour 
to the present, the slave of passion, and the victim of grief. 
Multifarious rites have been practised, and the most costly 
sacrifices have been offered up, to appease the vengeance 
of Heaven ; but it still goes forth against the children of 
disobedience. But must we despair ? No. " For God so 
loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that 
^vhosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." 

And you who believe in Christ will attain a higher state 
of honor and of bliss, than you would have acquired if the 
catastrophe of the fall had never happened. 

A higher state of honor. Had man never sinned, he 
would have stood in the relation of a servant, or a subject 
of the great King ; but now, being mystically united to 
Jesus Christ, and adopted by an act of grace, he bears the 
endearing epithet of a son. " But when the fulness of the 
time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, 
made under the law, to redeem them that were under the 
law, that we might receive the adoption of sons." 

A higher state of felicity. Had man never sinned, his 
felicity would have run on in a smooth and even current, 
liable to no fluctuations — no impediments — no swellings. 
His removal from earth to heaven, if that event had ever 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 5 

taken place, would have increased his happiness, but we 
have no means of ascertaining the exact proportion. But 
now, trace a redeemed sinner through this scene of mortal- 
ity and of woe, till you behold him before the throne of God, 
and of the Lamb ; and while conscious that he enjoys all 
the sources of bliss which he would have enjoyed had he 
entered glory from a paradisiacal state of innocence, you 
will perceive that his most exalted felicity arises from his 
redemption. " Unto him that loved us, and washed us from 
our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests 
unto God and his Father ; to him be glory and dominion for 
ever and ever. Amen." 

3. The means by which this state of future felicity is 
obtained, is another decisive proof that " God is love." 

What are the means ? Go to Calvary \ What a won- 
derful scene strikes our senses ! The heavens grow black — 
the rocks burst asunder — the thunder of the Lord waxeth 
louder and louder — the vail of the magnificent temple is 
rent asunder by an invisible hand — the dead arise, and ap- 
pear in the holy city ! What event do these prodigies attest 1 
Tell us, ye ministering spirits, who dwell near the throne 
of the Eternal ! That God is love ! What ! Love select- 
ing for its heralds the eclipse — the earthquake — and the 
tempest ? Yes ! Amidst these awful movements of Nature, 
in her disturbed condition, we behold God giving his only- 
begotten Son for the salvation of man ; and his death, which 
consummates the scheme of mercy, is the event which these 
strange prodigies announce ! He dies, " the just for the 
unjust, that he might bring us to God." 

But could not the salvation of man have been effected 
by some other expedient ? The question is improper. It is 
not our province to dictate to the Redeemer the terms of 
our redemption, nor the means by which it is to be accom- 
plished. Such are the means which infinite wisdom has 
devised for our salvation; and if we reject them, "there 
VOL. I. 16 



6 BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 

remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful 
looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation, which shall 
devour the adversaries." 

4. The metliod by which we enjoy the blessings of this 
scheme of redemption ; the extent to which they are to be 
conveyed ; and the provision which is made to guard against 
their universal rejection, are other proofs that God is love. 

The leading blessings which flow to us through the re- 
demption that is in Christ Jesus are, remission of sin — the 
sanctification of our nature — consolation suited to the varied 
afflictions of life — and the prospect of eternal glory. 

How is the remission of sin to be obtained ? Are you 
required, like the modern pagan, to undertake a distant and 
dangerous pilgrimage, leaving your family exposed to the 
insults of the proud, and liable to the pressure of want ? 
No ! " For through Christ we have access by one Spirit 
unto the Father. In whom we have redemption through 
his blood, the forgiveness of- sins, according to the riches of 
his grace." 

How is your nature to be purified ? Are you, like the 
deluded Hindoo, to expose yourself to the scorching heat of 
a tropical sun ? are you to submit to the deep laceration of 
self-inflicted torture, before you can be redeemed from the 
bondage of corruption, and regain that high elevation of 
moral excellence from which you are fallen 1 No ! God 
purifieth your hearts hy faith. Faith brings before the mind 
those facts, and those doctrines — those promises, and those 
threatenings, which strongly tend to destroy the love of sin, 
and to subdue its power. 

How are the consolations of mercy obtained 1 Not by 
the incantations of superstition, nor the mere force of phil- 
osophical reasoning ; but by the belief of those exceeding 
great and precious promises with which the Scriptures 
abound. And is not faith the evidence of things unseen, 
as well as the substance of things hoped for ? " Therefore 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 7 

being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through 
our Lord Jesus Christ : by whom also we have access by 
faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope 
of the glory of God." 

Under the Levitical dispensation, Mercy seemed con- 
fined to one place, and her blessings were almost exclu- 
sively confined to one people. Her residence was within 
the vail, and from between the cherubim she uttered her 
responses to the tribes of Israel. But now she has taken 
the wings of the morning, and following the course of the 
sun, her going forth is to be from the end of the heaven, and 
her circuit to the ends of it, and no human being to be hid 
from the light thereof Did not our Lord declare that " this 
Gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, 
for a witness unto all nations ?" See him before his ascen- 
sion, even while the scars of Golgotha were still fresh on 
his sacred person, gathering around him his faithful apos- 
tles, and hear the last injunction which fell from his lips: 
" Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every 
creature. He that believeth and is baptized, shall be saved ; 
but he that believeth not, shall be damned." 

Wherever man resides, thither the scheme of redemp- 
tion may be conveyed : and though it abounds, in its his- 
torical details, in references and allusions to the phenomena 
of the country in which it was revealed, and in which it 
was perfected, and to the civil and religious customs of the 
people to whose care it was first intrusted, yet neither its 
doctrines, nor its precepts — neither its rites, nor its institu- 
tions, discover any local peculiarities which would restrict 
its progress, or limit its duration. 

And though these blessings are to be conveyed through 
the instrumentality of men who possess no ability to secure 
their reception, yet these men stand in alliance with an in- 
visible agency, which can make the barbarian and the Scy- 
thian, the bond and the free, willing in the day of Jehovah's 



8 BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 

power. Hence our preachers are not dependent for success 
on the force of moral suasion ; neither do they expect to 
triumph over the passions and prejudices of the human heart 
by the splendor of evidence, or the charms of eloquence — 
regarding themselves as the mere instruments through 
whom the Holy Ghost exerts his almighty energy. And 
who can withstand, when he arises to promote the growing 
empire of the Redeemer ? What mind can remain imper- 
vious to the rays of truth, when he exhibits it ? What 
prejudices can retain their strong hold, when he sends forth 
the subduing efficacy of his grace ? " My word," saith 
the Lord, " shall not return unto me void ; but it shall 
accomplish that which I please, and prosper in the thing 
whereto I send it." 

And now consider what practical influence this love 
of God should have on our minds. 

1. The benevolence of God, as displayed in the scheme 
of redemption, should become a subject of intense meditation. 

Nature throws out attractions, in some of her depart- 
ments, which invite the traveller to leave his home, and his 
country, only to gaze on them. And when he reaches the 
enchanted spot, from whence he can see the lofty pyramid, 
losing its top amidst the clouds of heaven ; or the long ex- 
tended valley, where vegetation, in her varied forms, puts 
forth all her magnificence and beauty ; where the burning 
mountain is casting up its liquid flames ; or the cataract is 
thundering amidst the solemn stillness of deserted declivi- 
ties, into what transports is he thrown ! — nor is it till the 
scenes become familiar to his senses, that he has power to 
take a sketch, or describe an object. He passes on till he 
sees the splendid monuments of ancient times mouldering 
in ruins ; but does he not feel rich in mental excitement, 
amidst the desolations which Athens, which Corinth, which 
Jerusalem, still exhibit ? And shall the unconscious scenes 
of nature, which, after the lapse of a few more centuries, 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 9 

will form part of the general conflagration — shall the muta- 
tions of Providence, which are only serviceable as they 
make us wiser and better, awaken the most impassioned 
interest in the breast of the sentimental traveller 1 and shall 
the great scheme of redemption by the death of Jesus Christ, 
pass rapidly over the mind, as though it were too unimpor- 
tant to fix our attention ? God forbid ! But we must not 
conceal from you the astonishing fact, that it is treated with 
cold neglect by the great majority to whom it is revealed. 
They deem it low and worthless ; and they attempt to vin- 
dicate their conduct by saying, with the unbelieving Jews, 
" Which of the scribes or rulers — which of the learned or 
dignified of our church, make it the theme of their beauti- 
ful addresses, or eloquent harangues? Which of our cele- 
brated men of science, discrimination, and taste, make it 
the object of their study, or the subject of their discourse ? 
Does not the preaching of it provoke contempt, and expose 
the minister to the degrading imputation of fanaticism ?" 
And yet angels, fascinated by its charms, suspending their 
studies of nature, and their lofty pursuits in heaven, descend 
from the celestial world to look into it ; and whilst they 
look, they discover new beauties and new wonders inces- 
santly arising, which induce them again to look, and con- 
tinue the research. They bend, and again they bend their 
lofty minds, and cannot quit the object ; and by their con- 
duct they seem to unite with the Apostle, in his admiration 
of the incomparable excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
Jesus their Lord. And shall angels, who have no direct 
interest in this subject, be captivated by its beauties, and 
shall we remain ir\sensible to them ? Shall they turn away 
from the overpowering grandeur of the heavenly world, to 
pry into the hidden mysteries of the cross, and shall we 
treat them with indifference ? God forbid ! But it cannot 
be that you, who have felt the burden of sin, will ever be 
guilty of such a crime. It cannot be that you, who have 



10 BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 

derived from it your purest joy and your most sublime an- 
ticipations, will ever be accused of such a species of criminal 
folly and base ingratitude. You can adopt the language of 
the Apostle, as descriptive of the deep interest which you 
take in this supremely important subject : " God forbid that 
I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

2. It ought to become a subject of devout imitation. 
" Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved 
us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Be- 
loved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another. 
If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is 
perfected in us." 

If you wish to cherish and display that spirit of benevo- 
lence towards others, which God has manifested in the 
scheme of human redemption, it will be absolutely neces- 
sary that you should take that specific view of their char- 
acter and condition w^hich the Sacred Writers have given 
us. There are many Christians in modern times, 'who will 
weep over the ruins of Carthage, and pour forth their bitter 
lamentations near the site w^here Athens once displayed her 
unrivalled grandeur — who will mingle their sympathies 
with the sufferers of Ionia and Marathon, that were doomed 
to witness the extinction of science, and the destruction of 
empire — ^but who contemplate the fall of man from his 
original state of purity and honor with cool indifference, or 
impiously declare that he is as pure and as perfect as when 
first formed by the power of Jehovah. They speak in rap- 
tures of the dignity and happiness of the human species, 
even while the groans of misery are issuing from almost 
every receptacle of humanity — and unblushingly assert, 
that no derangement has taken place in the social system, 
though the history of man is little more than the public 
record of his ambition, cruelty, fraud, and injustice. To 
reason with such men is an act of folly, as they seem, on 
this subject, incapable of feeling the force of the most pal- 



BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. H 

pable evidence ; and the only course which remains to us, 
is to pity their incorrigible insensibility, and to guard our- 
selves against the neutralizing and paralyzing influence of 
their opinions. To expect that such men will ever become 
the philanthropists of the age in which they live, would be 
no less visionary than to expect that the author of all evil 
would, if permitted, come and repair the moral injury which 
he has done amongst us. And though they may, from birth, 
and accidental associations, stand connected with Christian- 
ity in some of the external forms of her establishment, yet 
they are no less devoid of her spirit than the avowed infidels, 
who reject her revelations as fabulous, and her pretensions 
as absurd. 

You must view man as a fallen and a guilty creature, 
before you will feel the tenderness of pity for him. You 
must view him as in a state of rebellion against the authority 
of God, and as exposed to the terrors of his righteous dis- 
pleasure, or you will never feel that deep and paramount 
anxiety on his behalf which will impel you to aim at his 
salvation. You must not allow the few social virtues, which 
sometimes bud and blossom on his character, to induce you 
to suppose that his moral condition, in relation to God, is 
less awful and perilous than the Scriptures represent — or 
that he stands in less need of the cleansing efficacy of the 
blood of atonement, and the purifying influence of the Holy 
Spirit, than when he appears in the more repelling form of 
the bold and profligate transgressor! 

Be ye, then, imitators of God ; and as he has given his 
only-begotten Son to die, " the just for the unjust," do all 
in your power to convey a knowledge of this fact to every 
human being. Suffer no false principles of reasoning — no 
selfish calculations — no considerations of personal ease, to 
induce you to suppress your tender pity — to smother your 
strong anxieties — or to withhold your zealous exertions, till 
all the members of the human family know the only true 



12 BENEVOLENCE OF GOD. 

God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent, whom to know 
is life eternal. 

Often meditate on the conduct of the Lord Jesus Christ ; 
^' who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to 
be equal with God ; but made himself of no reputation, and 
took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the 
likeness of men ; and being found in fashion as a man, he 
humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the 
death of the cross." And why should you meditate on the 
original dignity, and on the abasement of the Redeemer, 
but to possess the same spirit of condescension and benevo- 
lence which he so gloriously displayed ? Meditate on the 
greatness of his humiliation — on the intensity of his suffer- 
ings — on the ardor of his love — and go forth into the world 
with the same mind — and let every place you visit, and 
every individual with whom you come in contact, feel the 
moral influence of your Christian benevolence. The world 
may reproach you for your fanaticism, if they see you de- 
voted to the cause of Christ ; and may impeach your good 
sense, if you speak in raptures of the love of God to man, 
as displayed in the plan of redemption ; but be regardless 
of its revilings, and offer the same apology for your conduct 
which the Apostle once offered for his own, and his fellow- 
laborers : For the love of Christ constraineth us. 

But if you reject this scheme of redemption, or treat it 
with cool indifference, how shall you escape from the over- 
flowings of the divine displeasure ? Do you not know, on 
the authority of the Scriptures, that " the Lord Jesus shall 
be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels, in flaming 
fire, taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that 
obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ : who shall be 
punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of 
the Lord, and from the glory of his power ; when he shall 
come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all 
them that believe V^ 



]¥o. 31 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR, 



APPEAL TO YOUTH. 



BY REV. J. SCUDDER 

MISSIONARY IN INDIA. 



Behold a Stranger at the door ! 
He gently knocks — has knocked before — 
Has waited long — is waiting still : 
You treat no other friend so ill. 

O lovely attitude ! He stands 
With melting heart and loaded hands ! 
O matchless kindness ! and he shows 
This matchless kindness to his foes. 

But will he prove a friend indeed 1 
He will, the very friend you need : 
The friend of sinners — yes, 'tis He 
With garments dyed on Calvary. 

Rise, touched with gratitude divine, 
Turn out his enemy, and thine — 
That soul-destroying monster sin. 
And let the heavenly Stranger in. 

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

My dear young Friend, — As you have been instructed 
in Christianity from your early years, you are so well ac- 
quainted with it as to be prepared to admit that you are a 
sinner, and as such, exposed to the wrath and curse of God. 

VOL. I. 16* 



li KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

You are equally prepared to admit that you must repent of 
sin, believe in Christ, and make an unreserved and uncon- 
ditional surrender of your all to him, as the only conditions 
upon which God will save you. But though you have a 
speculative knowledge of these things, I fear they do not 
alfect your heart. I fear that, if the angel of death should 
be commissioned to cut you down at this moment, you would 
be lost for ever. 

That affecting passage on which the above hymn is 
founded is peculiarly adapted to your condition : " Behold, 
I stand at the door, and knock ; if any man hear my voice, 
and open the door, I will come in to him, and sup with him, 
and he with me." The person spoken of as knocking at the 
door is the ever-Messed Jesus, the friend of sinners. He it 
is who left the joys of heaven, came into this world, and died 
in ignominy and shame upon the cross, that poor sinners 
might escape eternal burnings, and be raised to the joys of 
heaven. The same love which constrained him to shed his 
precious blood for you, constrains him to follow you in all 
your wanderings from him, with entreaties that you will not 
ruin your soul. And though you have hitherto turned a 
deaf ear to them, his patience is not yet wearied out. 

The figure of knocking at the door is very beautiful, and 
points out in the strongest manner the wonderful compassion 
of the Saviour towards sinners. He may very properly be 
compared to a stranger, who comes to the door of sinners' 
hearts, and knocks for admission, with the most important 
tidings which ever greeted the ears of men. One would 
suppose that, the moment they were communicated, they 
would be received with the utmost rejoicing, and the bearer 
welcomed with ten thousand thanks. The reverse of this, 
however, is generally the case. He is treated with indiffer- 
ence, and oflen with supreme contempt. That man who 
would treat a stranger who had knocked at his door, in the 
manner that sinners treat the Saviour while knocking at the 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 3 

door of their hearts, Mould be looked upon as very uncivil, 
and worthy of being discarded from our society. Shall I 
tell you, my young friend, that you are the very person who 
has treated your Saviour with an incivility which you would 
blush to use to a passing stranger ? You may start back with 
horror, and perhaps weep at the very mention of it. You 
may probably tell me, that you pray and read your Bible, 
and are strict in your attendance at the house of prayer, and 
are therefore wrongfully accused. But you must remember, 
that as long as you do not turn your back upon the vain 
world, and give yourself entirely to your Saviour, you treat 
him not only with incivility, but with contempt. " Give me 
thy heart," is his language to you.- " Lord, I cannot give 
up the pleasure of the world, therefore I cannot give it to 
thee," is yours to him. I need hardly add, that as long as 
this is the case, even your prayers and reading the Bible 
are an abomination in his sight, and will only enhance your 
condemnation if you at last perish. " If any man come to 
me, and hate not his father and mother, and wife and chil- 
dren, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he 
cannot be my disciple." 

The various ways in which the Saviour knocks at the 
door of your heart, show his tender concern for you. Some 
of these I will mention. 

1. He knocks ly his Holy Word. This has been in 
your hands for years, and has often reminded you that you 
are a perishing sinner. It abounds with all manner of 
warnings and incentives to make you flee to Jesus Christ, 
the ark of safety, ere the deluge of divine wrath overtake 
you, and you are swept away by it into the ocean of eternal 
fire. The torments of hell are pointed out by it in such 
glowing colors, that you can, as it were, see the lake of fire 
and brimstone, and its miserable victims weeping, and wail- 
ing, and gnashing their teeth, and gnawing their tongues for 
pain, and blaspheming the God of heaven. The joys of 



4 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

heaven it also points out in the most attractive manner ; and 
assures you that, if you will embrace Christ as your Saviour, 
you shall soon be put in possession of them, and reign as a 
king and priest in his Father's kingdom, where all tears 
shall be wiped from your eyes, where there shall be no 
more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there 
be any more pain. 

2. Christ knocks at the door of your heart hy his minis- 
ters. One would suppose that it would be unnecessary for 
him to do any thing more than to have his word put into 
your hands. The reverse of this, however, is in a most 
melancholy manner manifested to be the case. He has 
therefore stirred up meii by the Holy Ghost, and set them 
apart for the express business of explaining this word to 
you, and using every other endeavor to pluck you as a 
brand from the burning. The knocks which the Lord 
Jesus has given by them are loud and awfully alarming. 
Methinks the alarm in which a person would be thrown, 
who should be awaked by a rap at his door, and find him- 
self in the midst of flames, w;ould bear but a little -proportion 
to that which you ought to feel when they show you the lake 
of fire and brimstone, with the smoke of the torments of the 
damned ascending for ever and ever, into which you are in 
danger of being momently plunged. Think of the favors 
the Saviour has conferred upon you by enabling you to sit 
under the stated ministry of his word. You have had the 
opportunity, from Sabbath to Sabbath, to hear of the con- 
cerns of your soul, while hundreds of millions do not know 
there is such a day. He who has been set your overseer 
by the Holy Ghost, often retires from holding intercourse 
with his fellow-men, in order to study what he shall say to 
awaken you to a consideration of your soul's concerns, and 
after having, on his knees, with tears, supplicated the divine 
blessing, he affectionately delivers the message to you. Has 
he not often told you, that by nature and by practice you 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 5 

are a sinner, and that you must be born again by the Holy 
Spirit ; that you must repent of every sin, accept of Christ 
as your Saviour, and love him above the things of the world, 
or be lost for ever ? Has he not described to you, with all 
his powers of eloquence, the love of the Redeemer? Has 
he not taken you with him to the garden of Gethsemane, 
and shown him to you, sweating, as it were, great drops of 
blood ? Has he not often shown him to you, scourged and 
crowned with thorns ? Has he not often told you of his 
painful march up the hill of Calvary, bearing the cross to 
which he was to be nailed ? Has he not often shown you 
the wounds made by the nails which pierced his hands and 
his feet ? Has he not often repeated, in your hearing, the 
doleful exclamation which escaped his lips just before he 
expired, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" 
Does not the Saviour, also, now knock at the door of your 
heart by me, as you read these pages ? 

3. Christ knocks at the door of your heart when he 
sends sickness and other afflictions upon you, and when, by 
fierce diseases, he is sweeping away hundreds around you 
into eternity. Though young, you probably know what 
sickness is. Tell me, when your body has been racked 
with pain, and wearisome days and nights have been ap- 
pointed to you, has not the thought of death come into your 
mind ; and have you not, as it were, been constrained for a 
moment to give your reflections to this, to you, I fear, most 
melancholy subject ? Has not the thought of eternity taken 
hold of you, and made you tremble ? Has not the awful 
gulf over which you were hanging, suspended, as it were, 
by a thread, made you almost scream with wild amazement ; 
and have you not involuntarily exclaimed. Save me. Lord, 
or I perish ? When you have followed the remains of your 
friends to the house appointed for all the living, has not the 
thought come into your mind that you must soon follow, and. 
at that moment have you not been ready to say, " Vanity of 



6 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

vanities, all is vanity," except religion ? When multitudes 
have been cut down by pestilence, have you not been filled 
with most anxious fears lest death should surprise you ? 
And when you have heard your Saviour saying unto you, 
" Be thou also ready, for in an hour thou thinkest not, the 
Son of man cometh," have you not told him. Lord, I will 
prepare : let what will come, I am resolved hereafter to be 
thine. And have you not, after all this, not merely gone as 
far as Ananias and Sapphira in keeping back a part, but 
have you not kept back the whole of the price ? 

4. Christ knocks at the door of your heart by his Holy 
Spirit. The Holy Spirit, the third person in the ever-bless- 
ed Trinity, is sent for the express purpose of convincing 
men of sin, of righteousness, and of a judgment to come ; 
and though often resisted, he frequently follows them wher- 
ever they go. By the way, in the house, on the bed, in the 
night-watches, he acts the part of a kind friend, and reveals 
to them that all is not right between God and their souls ; 
that the course they are pursuing is ruinous, and that it is 
high time for them to attend to their spiritual concerns. 
Tell me, my dear young friend, does not the Holy Spirit 
come to you at times, and inspire you with feelings of the 
nature here described ? Do you not, when experiencing 
his influences, feel that it is a solemn thing to die, and that 
if you should die immediately you must be lost for ever 1 
Sometimes, w^hen you lie down on your bed at night, are 
you not almost distracted when you reflect upon your con- 
duct during the day, and does not a sigh proclaim the dis- 
tress within ; or are you not so pressed at times, that you 
even proclaim with an audible voice the words once used 
by one in your situation — " If I should die this night, my 
soul would be in hell ?" Especially when, in the house of 
prayer, you hear of the joys of heaven and the torments of 
the damned, and learn from the word of God that you have 
none of the qualifications for heaven, do you not at times 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 



come to the resolution that you will, without delay, give up 
this vain world and dedicate yourself to Christ ? And do 
you not endeavor to put this resolution in force, and con- 
tinue to endeavor, until some card-party, or ball, or other 
vain amusement, or some light book, or even some small 
domestic concern, has lulled your conscience to sleep — yes, 
to sleep, perhaps until awakened by the gnawing of that 
worm which is to prey upon tl;e ungodly for ever 1 

Having pointed out some of the methods by which Christ 
knocks at the door of your heart, I will for a moment speak 
of THE GREAT MOTIVE which he holds out to induce you to 
admit him: " I will sup with him, and he with me." The 
blessings of the Gospel are fitly compared to a feast. The 
spiritual supper here alluded to, relates to that delightful 
communion which takes place between Christ and the be- 
liever. The Saviour fills his mind with that peace and com- 
fort which the world can neither give nor take away, which 
enables him to rejoice under the afflictions of life, and even 
to look upon death with composure. Death is called the 
king of terrors, and he is indeed so to the ungodly. But to 
him who sups constantly on the love of his Saviour, whose 
treasure is in heaven, he is a conquered enemy. The apos- 
tle Paul could even challenge death to tell him where was 
his sting, and the grave, where was its victory. I am fully 
aware that the worldling will tell you that Christians are 
gloomy, unhappy beings, and would fain persuade you that 
happiness is to be found only in his ranks. But you must 
remember that he is unfit to sit in judgment upon things of 
which he knows nothing. Were a Hottentot to see a Her- 
schel so engaged in his contemplations of the heavenly 
bodies as to be lost to every object around him, he would be 
ready enough to pronounce him a madman. Let him, how- 
ever, enjoy his intellectual feast for an hour, and he would 
long to be a participator in his joys. The worldling must 



8 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

taste the pleasures of religion before you are to pay the least 
regard to his suppositions. He who addresses you was once 
a worldling. Religion then possessed no charms. But the 
scene has been altered. He has tasted its pleasures, and is 
happy to assure you that he would not give one hour of the 
enjoyment he has found in it for all the pleasures you have 
ever enjoyed. Nothing, my dear young friend, can be more 
preposterous, than for one who has no other portion than 
this world, to talk of enjoying happiness. I should as soon 
expect to hear of a man who was going to the gallows, talk- 
ing of enjoying happiness. What, a man be happy, when 
the God w^ho made him is his enemy, and against whom, it 
may be, the gates of heaven are barred for ever ! a man be 
happy, who, ere to-morrow's sun arise, may be writhing and 
weltering in the flames below ! Go to the death-bed of such 
an one, and you learn what the pleasures are of which he 
boasts. 

It is related of the Hon. Sir Francis Newport, that when 
near death, he looked towards the fire and said, " O that I 
might lie upon that fire for a hundred thousand years to 
purchase the favor of God ! but it is a fruitless wish. Mill- 
ions of millions of years will bring me no nearer the end 
of my tortures than one poor hour. O eternity, eternity, 
who can discover the abyss of eternity ! O that I were in 
hell, that I might feel the worst ; and yet I dread to die, be- 
cause that worst will never have an end. When will be the 
last breath, the last pulse, that shall beat my spirit out of 
this decayed mansion into the desired region of death and 
hell ! O, it is at hand ; but I am afraid, again, to die. Ah, 
the forlorn state of one that has no God to fly to for peace 
and comfort !" The last expression he made use of was, 
" O the insufferable pangs of hell and of damnation !" 

" O time, time," cried out young Altamont, " it is fit 
that thou shouldst thus strike thy murderer to the heart ! 
How art thou fled for ever ! A month ! O for a single week ! 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 9 

I ask not for years, though an age were too little for the 
much t have to do. Remorse for the past throws my thoughts 
on the future. Worse dread of the future strikes it back on 
the past. I turn and turn, and find no ray ; and is there 
another hell ? O thou blasphemed, yet indulgent Lord God ! 
hell itself will be a refuge if it hides me from thy frown." 
When you have left these scenes, go and see the follower 
of the Lord Jesus, with the view of the king of terrors before 
him, and learn the pleasures of religion. " I am going," 
said the Rev. Dr. Payson, " to Mount Zion, to the city of the 
living God, to the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable 
company of angels, to the general assembly and church of 
the first born, and to God the judge of all. The celestial 
city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me. Its 
breezes fan me. Its odors are wafted to me. Its sounds 
strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. 
Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which 
now appears as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at 
a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The 
Sun of righteousness has been gradually drawing nearer 
and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached : 
and now he fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood 
of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams 
of the sun, exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on 
this excessive brightness, and wondering with unutterable 
wonder why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful 
worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether 
inadequate to my wants. I want a whole heart for every 
separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that emo- 
tion." Again, " I can find no words to express my happi- 
ness. I seem to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which 
is carrying me on to the great fountain." " Last night I 
had a full, clear view of death as the king of terrors ; how he 
comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge of the 
precipice of destruction, and then pushes him down head- 



10 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

long. But I felt that I had nothing to do with this, and I 
loved to sit like an infant at the feet of Christ, who saved ?7ie 
from this fate. I felt that death was disarmed of all his 
terrors : all that he could do, would be to touch me and let 
my soul loose to go to my Saviour." " My soul, instead of 
growing weaker and more languishing as my body does, 
seems to be endowed with an angel's energies, and to be 
ready to break from the body and join those around the 
throne." " I have suffered twenty times, yes, to speak 
within bounds, twenty times as much as I could in being 
burnt at the stake, while my joy in God so abounded as to 
render my sufferings not only tolerable, but welcome." 
" God is literally now my all in all ; while he is present with 
me, no event can in the least diminish my happiness, and 
were the whole world at my feet, trying to minister to my 
comfort, they could not add one drop to the cup." " It seems 
as if the promise, ' God will wipe away all tears from theii' 
eyes,' was already fulfilled in me, as respects tears of sor- 
row. I have no tears to shed now but those of love and joy 
and thankfulness." 

The death-bed scenes of those who have now been men- 
tioned of course I did not witness ; but I have witnessed 
others, both of the righteous and the wicked. I have seen 
the joy of the one, and the distress of the other. Never shall 
I forget the awful death of a young person who was a pa- 
tient of mine. After I told her. she must die, she inquired 
with deep anxiety, " Cannot I live a month — cannot I live 
two weeks ?" She died three or four days afterwards. I 
visited her about half an hour before this mournful event. 
She was then deranged. Would that I could present her 
before you as she appeared while reason retained its powers, 
that you might hear the solemn warnings she gave to the 
young not to put off repentance as she had done. Methinks 
you would weep, if you never wept before. Horror past 
imagination sat lowering upon her brow, while she stood 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 11 

shuddering and aghast upon the tremendous precipice. I 
heard her doleful cries. She fell — I saw her no more. 

" In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement ; 
Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help. 
But shrieks in vain ! How wishfully she looks 
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! 
A little longer, yet a little longer — 
O might she stay to wash away her crimes. 
And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight : 
Her very eyes weep blood, and ev'ry groan 
She heaves is big with horror ; but the foe. 
Like a stanch murd'rer, steady to his purpose, 
Pursues her close, through every lane of life. 
Nor misses once the track, but presses on, 
Till forced at last to the tremendous verge, 
At once she sinks." 

What is to be the end of the young friend to whom I am 
writing, remains to be seen. That your state is beyond all 
conception dreadful at the present, I very much fear. Day 
after day is hastening you on to eternity, and your work 
for it is not yet begun. O how dreary and dark and dis- 
consolate is your path ! No sun of righteousness ever sheds 
one ray of light upon it. No dews from the heavenly world 
ever distil upon it. The God who made you looks with no 
approbation upon you. No Saviour looks down from heaven 
to greet you with his smiles. No Holy Ghost descends to 
take possession of your body and make it his temple. The 
awful curses of a broken law are denounced against you. 
The angel of death stands with his sword drawn, waiting 
only to receive the command to cut you down and cast you 
into outer darkness. Nothing, nothing but the mere mercy 
of that God who is angry with you, keeps you from hell one 
moment. How bitter the thought, that though the sun may 
oft arise rejoicing in his course, you are groping the dark 
road to death ; that all the lights of heaven are extinguished 



12 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

upon your path, and the shades of premature night may- 
have spread their blackness over your undying spirit ! 

My appeal has already swelled to a great length, but I 
cannot yet persuade myself to leave off writing. I am re- 
minded that this may be the last effort I shall ever make for 
the salvation of your soul. It is therefore of the utmost 
importance that I use every argument in my power to 
constrain you to open the door of your heart and admit your 
Saviour. God is my witness, that I long to meet you in 
heaven ; but this is altogether impossible, unless I can per- 
suade you to give up the pleasures of this world in which 
you are deeply immersed, and dedicate yourself unreservedly 
to his service. My dear young friend, you believe the Gos- 
pel ; you believe you must embrace it, or be lost. How 
then is it that you do not let it engross your most solemn and 
immediate attention ? You well know that it is the only thing 
really worthy of your consideration, and why will you suffer 
yourself to neglect it a moment longer ? Tell me, are you 
willing to lose your soul for the sake of enjoying a few 
worldly pleasures for a season ? Would such a choice be 
wise ? Let me entreat you to step into that graveyard 
which you so often pass, and view the mouldering corpses 
of those who a short time ago led in the ballroom or at the 
card-party, and ask them what they think of such pleasures 
now. O ! methinks, if they could speak, they, even they, 
would address you in such language as you never yet have 
heard. They would tell you in such vivid strains of elo- 
quence of that lake of fire and brimstone of which they heard 
while in the house of God, but which they disregarded, and 
in which all their pleasures have terminated, that the very 
" caul of your heart " would be rent in pieces, and you 
would, ere you left the spot, cry out, " If this be the end of 
those who' seek their happiness from the world, ' my soul, 
come not thou into their secret ', unto their assembly, mine 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 13 

honor, be not thou united.' " Sin, though seemingly sweet 
in the commission, yet at last " biteth like a serpent, and 
stingeth like an adder." 

" Happy is the man that findeth wisdom. Her ways are 
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." Would 
that 1 could persuade you to make trial of them. One single 
draught from her cup would divest you of all relish for those 
imaginary pleasures which now dazzle your sight. Perad- 
venture this may, with the divine blessing, be the case. I 
will turn suppliant, and beseech you to make such a trial : 

" I entreat you by the majesty of that God in whose 
name I come, whose voice fills all heaven with reverence 
and obedience — I entreat you by the terrors of his wrath, 
who could speak to you in thunder, who could, by one single 
act of his will, cut off this precarious life, and send you down 
to hell — I beseech you by his mercies, his tender mercies, 
by the bowels of his compassion, which still yearn over you, 
as those of a parent over a dear son, a tender child, whom, 
notwithstanding his former ungrateful rebellion, he earnest- 
ly remembers still — I beseech you further, by the name and 
love of our dying Saviour — I beseech you by all the conde- 
scension of his incarnation ; by the poverty to which he 
voluntarily submitted, that you might be enriched with eter- 
nal treasures ; by all the gracious invitations which he gave, 
which still sound in his word, and still coming, as it were, 
warm from his heart, are sweeter than honey and the honey, 
comb — 1 beseech you by the memory of what he suffered, 
as well as of what he said and did ; by the agony which he 
endured in the garden, when his body was covered with a 
dew of blood — -I beseech you by all that tender distress 
which he felt, when his dearest friends forsook him and 
fled, and his blood-thirsty enemies dragged him away like 
the meanest of slaves, and like the vilest of criminals — 
I beseech you by the blows and bruises, by the stripes and 



14 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

lashes which this injured Sovereign endured while in their 
rebellious hands ; by the shame of spitting, from which he 
hid not that kind and venerable countenance — I beseech you 
by the purple robe, the sceptre of reed, and the crown of 
thorns which this King of glory wore, that he might set us 
among the princes of heaven — I beseech you by the heavy 
burden of the cross under which he panted, and toiled, and 
fainted, in the painful way to Golgotha, that he might free 
us from the burden of our sins — I beseech you by the re- 
membrance of those rude nails which tore the veins and 
arteries, the nerves and tendons of his sacred hands and feet, 
and by that invincible, that triumphant goodness, which, 
while the iron pierced his flesh, engaged him to cry out, 
* Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do ' — I 
beseech you by the unutterable anguish which he bore when 
lifted up on the cross, and extended there as on a rack for 
six painful hours, that you open your heart to those attrac- 
tive influences which have drawn to him thousands and tens 
of thousands — I beseech you by all that insult and derision 
which the Lord of glory bore there ; by that parching thirst 
which could hardly obtain the relief of vinegar ; by that 
doleful cry, so astonishing in the mouth of the only-begotten 
of the Father, ' My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me V — I beseech you by that grace which subdued and par- 
doned a dying malefactor ; by that compassion for sinners, 
by that compassion for you, which wrought in his heart, 
long as its vital motion continued, and which ended not 
when he bowed his head, saying, ' It is finished,' and gave 
up the Ghost — I beseech you by all the triumphs of that 
resurrection, by which he was declared to be the Son of 
God with power, by the Spirit of holiness — I beseech you 
by the memory of all that Christ has already done, by the 
expectation of all he will further do for his people — I be- 
seech you at once by the sceptre of his grace, and by the 
sword of his justice, with which all his incorrigible enemies 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 15^ 

shall be slain before him, that you do not trifle away these 
precious moments while his. Spirit is thus breathing upon 
you ; that you do not lose an opportunity which may never 
return, and on the improvement of which your eternity de- 
pends — I beseech you by all the bowels of compassion which 
you owe to the faithful ministers of Christ, who are studying 
and laboring, preaching and praying, wearing out their 
time, exhausting their strength, and very probably shorten- 
ing their lives for the salvation of your soul, and of souls 
like yours — I beseech you by the ruin of those who have 
trifled away their days, and perished in their sins ; and 
by the happiness of those who have embraced the Gospel, 
and are saved by it — I beseech you by the great expecta- 
tion of that important day, when the Lord Jesus shall be 
revealed from heaven ; by the terrors of a dissolving world ; 
by the sound of the archangel's trumpet, and of that infinite- 
ly more awful sentence, ' Come, ye blessed,' and ' Depart, 
ye cursed,' with which that grand solemnity shall close — I 
beseech you, finally, by your own precious and immortal 
soul ; by the sure prospect of a dying bed, or a sudden sur- 
prise into the invisible state, and as you would feel one 
sparkle of comfort in your departing spirit when your flesh 
and your heart are failing — I beseech you by your own 
personal appearance before the tribunal of Christ ; by all the 
transports of the blessed, and by all the agonies of the damn- 
ed, the one or the other of which must be your everlasting 
portion — I affectionately entreat and beseech you, in the 
strength of all these united considerations, as you will an- 
swer it to me, who may in that day be summoned to testify 
against you ; and what is unspeakably more, as you will 
answer it to the eternal Judge, tliat you now make cJioice of 
Christ, and his appointed way of salvation, and solemnly 
devote yourself to God in the bonds of an everlasting cove- 
nant." 

And now, my dear young friend, what will you do ? 



16 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

Considering yourself in the immediate presence of the heart- 
searching and rein-trying God, before whom all you do will 
be reviewed at the final day, I ask you, will you, or will 
you not now open the door of your heart and admit your 
Saviour ? I must have an answer. I charge you in the 
most solemn manner, and in his name, not to stir from the 
spot where you are without giving it to me. Upon the 
determination of this moment, perhaps, hang your ever- 
lasting salvation, or everlasting damnation. " Quench not 
the Spirit," " Grieve not the Spirit," is the command of 
Heaven. Will you then, in defiance of this command, con- 
tinue any longer to grieve Him 1 I pause for an answer. 
What is it ? Is it, that you do from this moment give up the 
world, repent of eveiy sin, and dedicate yourself to your 
Saviour in an everlasting covenant not to be broken ? If so, 
throw yourself at his feet, tell him you are a wretch undone, 
deserving nothing but his vengeance. Tell him, that though 
you have trampled upon his blood, you will in his strength 
do so no more, but be his for ever. Plead with him, with 
earnest entreaty, to give you the influences of his Holy Spirit, 
to create in you a clean heart, and renew within you a right 
spirit, without which you are eternally undone ; and continue 
to plead, until you hear him saying. Go in peace, thy sins 
are forgiven thee. If this should be the result of my exer- 
tions in your behalf, how happy should I be. How happy 
would all the angels in heaven be. They would chant an 
anthem for your conversion. How happy, too, would God 
the Father be to welcome you, a lost child, to his bosom. 
How happy would the blessed Redeemer be to see of the 
travail of his soul ; and how happy would the ever-blessed 
Spirit be to make your body the temple of his residence. 

But it may be that results entirely different will take 
place. It may be that you will not comply with the injunc- 
tion God gives you by me, to dedicate yourself to Christ 
NOW. In view of the pleasures of the world, and the 



' KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 17 

opposition and ridicule you may have to meet with from 
your gay companions and others, you may think it be§t to 
put off the consideration of this momentous subject to a more 
convenient time. If such a thought is passing through your 
mind, cast it out at once. O cast it out, I entreat you. No 
more harbor it for a moment, than you would harbor the 
deadly adder in your bosom. Remember that a more con- 
venient season may never arrive. Death may close your 
eyes in as unexpected a manner as he did those of a young 
man of whom I have been lately reading, and your body 
be entombed in yonder churchyard before to-morrow's set- 
ting sun. But even should you live for many years to come, 
you have no reason to believe that you will have as con- 
venient a season as the present. Your heart will grow daily 
harder and harder, and of course you will find it more and 
more difficult to embrace the Saviour. Look at the aged. 
Are they more ready to seek him, after having spent fifty 
or sixty years in sin, than they were when young ? The 
reverse in general is the case. Besides, you do not know that 
God will continue to. hold out any encouragement for you 
to come to him after this very moment. " My Spirit," he has 
declared, " shall not always strive with man." Many are 
the sad monuments of his desertion. An instance I will 
transcribe for your warning. 

"I was once called," says a venerable clergyman, "to 
visit a young lady who was said to he in despair. She had 
at some time previous been serious, and had, it was hoped, 
resolutely set her face towards Zion. In an evil hour some 
of her associates, gay, pleasure-loving young ladies, called 
on her to accompany them to a ball. She refused to go. 
The occasion, the company, the parade, and gayety, were all 
utterly dissonant with her present feelings. With charac- 
teristic levity and thoughtlessness, they urged her, ridiculed 
her Methodism, railed at the cant and hypocrisy of her 
spiritual guides, and finally so far prevailed, that with a 
VOL. I. 17 



18 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

desperate effort to shake off her convictions, and regain her 
former carnal security, she exclaimed, ' Well, I will go, if 
I" am damned for it.' God took her at her word. The 
blessed Spirit immediately withdrew his influences, and 
instead of the anxious sigh and longing desire to be freed from 
the body of sin and of death, succeeded by turns the calm- 
ness and horrors of despair. The wretched victim knew 
that the Spirit had taken its final leave ; no compunctions 
for sin, no tears of penitence, no inquiries after God, no 
eager seeking of the ' place where Christians love to meet,' 
now occupied the tedious hours. Instead of the bloom and 
freshness of health, there came the paleness and haggard- 
ness of decay. The wan and sunken cheek, the ghastly, 
glaring eye, the emaciated limb, the sure precursors of 
approaching dissolution, were there. The caresses of friends, 
the suggestions of affection, all were unheeded. The con- 
solations of piety, the last resource of the miserable, were to 
her but the bitterness of death. In this state of mind I was 
called to visit her. When I entered the room where she 
was, and beheld her pale and emaciated, and reflected that 
the ravages of her form without but faintly shadowed forth 
the wreck and desolation within, 1 was almost overpowered. 
Never had I conceived so vivid an idea of the woe and misery 
of those who had ' quenched the Spirit.' I proposed prayer. 
The word threw her into an agony. She utterly refused. 
No entreaties of friends, no arguments drawn from the love 
of God, from the fulness and freeness of atoning blood, could 
prevail to shake her resolution. I left her without having 
been able to find a single avenue to her heart, or to dart one 
ray of comfort into the dark bosom which, to all human view, 
was soon to be enveloped in the blackness of darkness for 
ever. Never shall I forget the dreadful expression of that 
ghastly countenance, the tones of that despairing voice. 
The impression is as vivid as though it had been but yester- 
day. O that all the young, gay, thonp;htless ones, who stifle 



KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 19 

the convictions of conscience and repress the rising sigh, 
who dance along on the brink of utter reprobation and 
despair, would read and lay to heart the warning which the 
last hours and death of this young lady are calculated so 
forcibly to give." 

That God should withdraw his Spirit from those who 
resist him, is a matter of no wonder. You very well know, 
that if one comes to your door day after day, and is received 
with unkindness, he will leave you, no more to return. You, 
my dear young friend, have resisted the knocks which the 
Saviour has been giving at the door of your heart by his 
Spirit, day after day, and month after month, and — O dread- 
ful to relate — year after year. To-day, he is knocking, 
perhaps for the last time. If you reject him, I shall not at 
all wonder if he abandons you to your own ways, to be filled 
with your own devices. I shall not at all wonder if, tliis day, 
a seal is put in heaven to your everlasting damnation. 

And now, my young friend, I bid you an affectionate 
farewell. It will be but a little while before you and I are 
summoned before the tribunal of the Judge of all the earth. 
When we meet there, if this Tract should rise up in judg- 
ment against you, as it certainly will if you are found on 
his left hand, I think you will allow that I have acted the 
part of a kind friend, and done what I could for your spirit- 
ual welfare. Very probably what I have written will be 
hastily read by you, and afterwards unheeded, uncared for, 
and but little thought of. This indifference, however, cannot 
always last. Your seasons of reflection will certainly come. 
If not in a dying hour, they will in the judgment-day ; and 
they will make your heart sink and die within you, when, in 
common with all whose sins are not washed away in the 
blood of the Lamb, you hear the awful sentence pronounced 
against you, " Depart, ye cursed, into everlastmg fire pre- 



20 KNOCKING AT THE DOOR. 

pared for the devil and his angels." And when millions 
and millions of years shall have rolled away, and you are 
constrained by the gnawings of the worm which never dies, 
and by the torments of that fire which never is quenched, to 
lift up your voice and say, " How long, O Lord, yet how 
long" — and when the voice of Infinite Justice proclaims 
" FOR EVER "—with what wailings and bitter lamenta- 
tions will you look back and remember the transactions of 
this day — when you deliberately and voluntarily chose the 
world, instead of the Saviour, as your portion / . 



Sinners, turn, why will ye die ? 
God, your Saviour, asks you, why ? 
God, who did your souls retrieve, 
Died himself, that ye might live. 

Will ye let him die in vain ? 
Crucify your Lord again ? 
Why, ye ransom'd sinners, why 
Will ye slight his grace, and die ? 

Sinners, turn, why will ye die ? 
God tlie Spirit asks you, why ? 
He, who all your lives hatli strove, 
Woo'd you to embrace his love. 

Will ye not his grace receive ? 
Will ye still refuse to live ? 
Why, ye long-sought sinners, why 
Will ye grieve your God, and die ? 

Wesley. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 3^. 



DAY OF JUDGMENT. 



That a just God will render to every man according to 
his character and works, is a dictate of reason. Conscience 
also intimates to every man, when he sins, that he deserves 
to be punished ; and when we see or hear of great crimes 
committed by others, such as murders, perjuries, robbery, 
or treachery, we feel something within us demanding that 
such should receive condign punishment. But we see that 
the wicked are not always punished, in this world, accord- 
ing to their evil deeds ; it seems reasonable, therefore, to 
expect that there will be a judgment after death. 

We are not left, however, to the mere dictates of reason 
on this subject : God, in his word, has revealed, in the 
clearest manner, that there will be a day of reckoning at 
the end of the world. This day is appointed, and will cer- 
tainly come. It is not so certain that we shall ever see the 
sun rise again, as it is that we shall see the day of judgment. 
The Lord Jesus Christ is also appointed to act as Judge on 
that day : " because he hath appointed a day, in which he 
will judge the world in righteousness, by that Man whom he 
hath ordained." Acts 17 : 31. "For we must all appear 
before the judgment-seat of Christ ; that every one may 
receive the things done in his body, according to that he 
hath done, whether it be good or bad." 2 Cor. 5 : 10. 

When this awful day will arrive, is a profound secret, 
not revealed to any creature in the universe. But we 
know that it will come suddenly and unexpectedly on those 
who shall then be on the earth. As it was in the days of 
Noah and of Lot, so will it be in the Day of Judgment. 
Men will be pursuing their common worldly business and 



"2 " DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

amusements, without apprehension of danger, when the 
sound of the last trump shall be heard, (for the trumpet shall 
sound,) and the Son of man shall be seen coming in the 
clouds of heaven. 

The race of man shall not cease from the earth until that 
day comes. There will then be a generation of living in- 
habitants, probably very numerous, in the world. These 
will never die as other men, but they will undergo a change 
equivalent to death and a resurrection ; in a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye, they shall be changed. But all they 
that are in their graves shall hear the voice of God, and 
shall come forth, great and small. No sooner shall the 
trumpet sound, than the scattered dust of unnumbered mill- 
ions shall resume its proper place in every man. No mat- 
ter where it lies, or how widely it may have been scattered, 
one word of the Almighty God is sufficient to bring it to its 
place, and animate it with new life. The multitude which 
will then start up into life cannot be conceived, it will be so 
great. There will stand Adam and all his posterity ; there 
will stand those who lived before the flood, and those who 
have lived since ; there will be seen the ancient patriarchs, 
Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the inspired prophets 
and apostles ; there will appear kings, emperors, nobles, and 
their subjects; the learned philosopher and the ignorant 
multitude ; ministers and their congregations, parents and 
their children, masters and their servants — all, all coming 
forward to the grand tribunal. Not one of our whole race 
will be absent from this great assembly. There, reader, 
shall you and I stand, trembling or rejoicing. 

It is useless to inquire where room can be found for so 
great a multitude to stand, for this will be a day of miracles. 
All the wonders ever exhibited before will be nothing to the 
wonders of this day. Indeed, all that is natural will end on 
this day ; and every thing will be miraculous. The sun 
will no longer rise and set ; the moon no longer give her 
light, and the stars shall no longer appear in the firmament. 
Heaven will appear to have come down to earth, for the 



DAY OF JUDGIVIENT. 3 

King of kings, and Lord of heaven will be visible to all, with 
all his own glory and that of his Father. And all the holy- 
angels will appear in attendance, standing round his throne, 
ready to execute his orders, whether of justice or of mercy. 

When all things are prepared — when the Judge has 
taken his seat on the tribunal, and all men are bro.ught be- 
fore him, the judicial process will begin ; " and the books 
will he opened.^^ What books these are, except one, which 
is " the book of life," we are not informed ; but we may be 
sure that one is the book of God's law ; and another the 
record of human actions which is in the "book of"' God's 
" remembrance." It is not necessary to think of more. 
These contain all that is necessary for conducting the trial 
of every man. The one contains the law, and the other the 
testimony. But every thing will be conducted with the 
most peffect equity. Every man will be judged for his own 
deeds, and according to that knowledge of the law which he 
had opportunity of acquiring. The omniscience of the 
Judge will enable him to estmiate with perfect exactness all 
the circumstances of every action ; every thing which ag- 
gravates guilt, and'every thing which palliates it, will have 
due consideration. They who lived under the patriarchal 
dispensation, will be judged according to the light and ad- 
vantages then enjoyed ; they who lived under the Mosaical 
economy, will be judged by the law of Moses ; and they who 
enjoyed the clear light of the Gospel, will be dealt with in 
a maimer accordant to their advantages ; while they who 
enjoyed no external revelation, will be judged by that law 
written on the hearts of all men. 

The things which shall be brought under the eye of the 
Judge, and exhibited to the view of the universe, are, all 
deeds done in the body — whatsoever a man hath done, 
whether good or bad. Every secret thing. " For God shall 
bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, 
whether it be good, or whether it be evil." Eccl. 12 : 14. 
Every idle word. " I say unto you, that every idle word 
that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the 



4 DAY OF JUDGMENT. _ 

day of judgment." Matt. 12 : 36. The thoughts of the 
heart shall also be made manifest. Every unholy desire ; 
every proud, envious, or malicious thought ; every secret 
purpose of iniquity ; every unhallowed temper ; every re- 
bellious, and discontented, and ungrateful feeling towards 
God and his government, will be brought into judgment. 

And the inquiry will extend not only to positive acts, but 
also to omissions of duty. Great as is the number of the 
acts of wickedness, the catalogue of omissions will be greater, 
and not less criminal. The first sin of this sort which will 
claim the attention of the Judge, will be the omission to 
entertain and cherish right sentiments tov/ards God. No 
more heavy charge will be brought against any individual 
on that day, than that he neglected to love the Lord his God 
with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. This 
is the total violation of the first and greatest command, and 
the fountain of all other iniquities. The neglect to believe 
on the Lord Jesus Christ when he was offered to us a com- 
plete Saviour in the Gospel, will, to the unfruitful hearers 
of the word, be an accusation of the highest kind. The 
heinousness and enormity of unbelief, which now affects the 
consciences of men so little, will on that day appear in a 
glaring light. It will not be strange if it should call forth 
reproaches upon the unhappy culprit, from devils, who never 
had a Saviour provided, and from heathen, who never had a 
Saviour offered to them. In that account which our Lord 
has given of the process of the judgment, in the twenty-fifth 
chapter of Matthew, the neglect of kindness to the saints, by 
visiting, comforting, and aiding them, is the only thing men- 
tioned. Whatever else, then, may be noticed, we are sure 
this will not be forgotten. The whole passage is so solemn 
and interesting, that it deserves our deepest attention : 
" When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the . 
holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of 
his glory : and before him shall be gathered all nations ; 
and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd 
divideth his sheep from the goats : and he shall set the sheep 



DAY OF JUDGMENT. 



on his right hand, but the goats on the left. Then shall the 
King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of 
my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the 
foundation of the world. For I was an hungered, and ye 
gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink ; I was 
a stranger, and ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; 
I was sick, and ye visited me ; I was in prison, and ye came 
unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying. Lord, 
when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee ? or thirsty, 
and gave thee drink ? When saw we thee a stranger, and 
took thee in ? or naked, and clothed thee ? or when saw we 
thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ? And the King 
shall answer and say unto them, Verily, I say unto you, 
inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these 
my brethren, ye have done it unto me. TJien shall he say 
also unto them on the left hand. Depart from me, ye cursed, 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. 
For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat ; I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink • I was a stranger, and ye 
took me not in ; naked, and ye clothed me not ; sick,- and 
in prison, and ye visited me not. Then shall they also 
answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, 
or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and 
did not minister unto thee '? Then shall he answer them, 
saying, Verily, I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to 
on'e of the least of these, ye did it not to me. And these 
shall go away into everlasting punishment ; but the right- 
eous into life eternal." Matt. 25 : 31-46. 

And let it be well considered, that most of the sins 
which are mentioned in the discourses of Christ, as the 
ground of condemnation, are sins of omission. The slothful 
servant, who prepares not himself, is the wicked servant, 
who will be cast into outer darkness. The man who wrap- 
ped his talent in a napkin and buried it, is condemned out 
of his own mouth. For " to him that knoweth to do good, 
(of any kind,) and doeth it not, to him it is sin." James 4 : 17.- 

Many who prided themselves in their inoffensive lives 

VOL. I. 17* 



6 DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

and harmless behavior, will find, when the books are opened, 
a catalogue of omissions which will startle them with horror, 
and overwhelm them with confusion. And as actions ex- 
ternally good will then be examined by One who has a full 
view of the motives from which they proceeded, and the end 
which the agent had in view, is it not certain that many 
religious actions will then appear to have been mere hy- 
pocrisy ? that many actions, apparently just and benevolent, 
were mere efforts of pride and selfishness 1 and that a life 
civil and blameless in the eyes of men, was a mere cloak 
which covered a heart full of unclean lusts ? Our most 
intimate friends here, will be astonished when they see 
our secret iniquities and wicked motives exposed to view. 
Crimes the most detestable will be found in the skirts of 
those who passed through life without suspicion. O how 
many secret murders, perjuries, thefts, blasphemies, and 
adulteries, will then be brought to light ! How much in- 
justice, fraud, cruelty, oppression, pride, malice, revenge! 
The cries of the mjurjed, the widow and the orphan, always 
enter into the ears of the Lord, and he now comes to avenge 
them. Cruel persecutors of God's church and people, 
though clothed in purple, and almost adored, when living in 
the world, will now be brought to a severe account. The 
blood of the martyred saints, from beneath the altar, has 
been long crying out, " How long, O Lord, holy and true, 
dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell 
on the earth ?" Rev. 6 : 10. And now the day of retribu- 
tion has arrived. 

What will be the length of time occupied with the 
judgment we know not. It is called a day, but it will 
differ exceedingly from all c ther days : and in its duration, 
probably, as well as in other respects. Our wisdom is to 
attend to what is revealed, and to repress a vain curiosity in 
regard to other matters. We may rest assured that the 
whole process will be wisely conducted, and that complete 
justice will be done. The Judge of all the earth will do 
right. He will not condemn the innocent, nor clear the 



DAY OF JUDGMENT. 7 

guilty. And his judgment will be most impartial. There 
will be no respecting of persons. The king and the beggar 
will stand upon equal ground, and will be judged by the 
same rule. Those who in this world were reviled and 
slandered, and had no opportunity of clearing up their 
character, will then be vindicated, and lies and reproaches 
will have effect no more. 

But here a serious difficulty occurs. It may be said, 
" If the law of God is the rule of judgment, and if all sins 
are brought into judgment, then certainly every human 
being must be condemned ; ' for all have sinned, and come 
short of the glory of God.' According to this view, none 
can be saved." To remove this difficulty, let it be remem- 
bered, that besides the book of the law, there is another 
book which will be produced there, written from the foun- 
dation of the w^orld. This is called the book of life. 
This contains the names (and they shall never be blotted 
out) of all those who have washed their robes and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb. These he has under- 
taken to present to God without spot or wrinkle, or any such 
thing. They will appear on that day clothed with the 
righteousness of the Redeemer. The Judge on the throne is 
their covenanted Surety. He answers to every accusation 
made against them. But notwithstanding "there is no 
condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus ;" notwith- 
standing none can " lay any thing to the charge of God's 
elect;" yet they also shall be brought into judgment. 
When all things are prepared, and the whole assembly is 
collected before the august tribunal, a separation will be 
made of the great congregation into two parts ; the righteous, 
and the wicked. The former will be placed on the right 
hand of the Judge, and with them he will commence. But 
no sooner shall their numerous sins be brought to view, than 
it will be made to appear that they are pardoned through 
the blood of Christ. When the books are opened, a long 
account will appear against them ; but on the other hand it 
will be seen that the whole is freely forgiven, through the 



8 DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

riches of grace in Christ Jesus. But a most exact account 
will be taken of all their good works ; and they will be 
mentioned to their honor, and rewarded as though no imper- 
fection had cleaved to them. The least act of kindness 
done to any of Christ's followers will be magnified and 
rewarded as if done to Christ himself Even the giving a 
cup of cold water to a disciple, in the name of a disciple, 
shall not lose its reward. Persons in the lowest state, 
servants and slaves, who performed their duty faithfully, 
shall not be forgotten in that day, for " whatsoever good 
thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the 
Lord, whether he be bond or free." Eph. 6 : 8. But they 
who suffered persecution and death for righteousness' sake, 
will be most highly distinguished, and most signally reward- 
ed. " Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and 
persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you 
falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad ; for 
great is your reward in heaven." Matt. 5 : 11, 12. They 
also who have labored much in promoting the Redeemer's 
kingdom, will receive a reward proportioned to their works 
of faith and labors of love. But none who have done good 
shall fail of their reward. Every one shall receive accord- 
ing to what he hath done ; and every one will be satisfied ; 
for the lowest place in glory is a situation too dazzling for 
our present conceptions, and the whole is a matter of pure 
grace. These works, considered in themselves, deserve no 
reward. But it is the will of God that every holy desire, 
every good word and work, in the members of Christ's body, 
should receive a mark of his favor, to the honor and glory 
of him who is their Head, and who died for their salvation. 
When the gracious sentence, " Come, ye hlessed, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the 
world,'^ is pronounced, the righteous shall be caught up to 
the Lord, and shall be seated by his side, and be united with 
him in the remaining transactions of that great day ; for it 
is written, " The saints shall judge the world ;" and, " Know 
ye not that ye shall judge angels ?" 



DAY OF JUDGMENT. 9 

The case of the righteous being disposed of, then will 
come the awful transaction of pronouncing sentence on the 
wicked. They will, indeed, have anticipated the sentence. 
By this time they will be certain of their doom ; but the 
scene itself will far exceed all apprehensions before enter- 
tained. To behold the face of inflexible justice turned 
towards them — to hear the irreversible sentence of con- 
demnation, and that too from the mouth of the benevolent 
Son of God — to feel in the inmost soul the justice of the 
sentence — to be as certain of everlasting damnation as they 
are of existence — are things concerning which we can speak 
now, but of which we can form but very feeble conceptions, 
compared with the dreadful reality. In all his existence 
there will probably be no moment in which the sinner's 
anguish will be so poignant as in this, when the Judge shall 
say, " Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, pre- 
pared FOR THE DEVIL AND HIS ANGELS." Matt. 25 : 41. 

Every word in this tremendous denunciation will pierce 
through the soul with more insufferable pain than ten thou- 
sand daggers. It is reasonable to think that every person, 
against whom it is pronounced, will endure as much misery 
at that moment as in the nature of things is possible. And 
if this were all, the prospect would be appalling ; but to be 
doomed to endless misery in fire, with the devil and his 
angels ! — who can bear the thought without horror and 
dismay ? Yet, as sure as God is true, will this sentence 
be executed on every impenitent sinner. Men may reason 
and cavil now, but then every mouth shall be stopped. 
That the cry of despair and horror will be heard through 
the great multitude, is certain — such a great and bitter cry 
as was never heard before. But it is all in vain ; re- 
pentance comes too late. The day of grace is for ever 
past. The Gospel dispensation is ended. This is the con- 
summation of all things. No change in condition can ever 
be expected. They that are saved, have their salvation 
secured by the oath and promise of God ; and they who are 
lost, have their damnation sealed for ever and ever, by a 



10 DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

judicial sentence which can never be revoked. And from 
this sentence there is no appeal. There is no higher tribunal 
to which the cause may be transferred. Neither can any 
resistance be made to the execution of the sentence. They 
who are now bold and daring in their blasphemies and 
rebellion, will then find that they are in the hands of a sin- 
avenging God. It will belong to the holy angels, who are 
mighty in power, to execute the sentence of the Judge. 
" So shall it be," said our blessed Saviour, " at the end of 
the world : the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked 
from among the just, and shall cast them into the furnace 
of fire : there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." 
Matt. 13 : 49, 50. And it will be as impossible to escape 
as to resist. The rocks and mountains will not cover them. 
They cannot cease to exist. Go where they will, God is 
there to execute deserved wrath upon them. They will 
therefore be obliged to "go away into everlasting punish- 
ment." Matt. 25 : 46. 

The devil and his angels will also be judged on that 
day ; but of the particular nature of the trial we are not 
informed. All that we know is, that " the angels which 
kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, 
he hath reserved in everlasting chains under darkness 
unto the judgment of the great day." Jude, ver. 6. They 
are now miserable, but their cup is not full ; therefore 
they cried out when they saw Jesus, " Art thou come to 
torment us before the time ?" Matt. 8 : 29. At the break- 
ing up of this great assembly, the present system of the 
world will be destroyed. For " the heavens and the earth, 
which are now, by the same word are kept in store, reserved 
unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition of un- 
godly men." 2 Pet. 3 : 7. 

Reader, deeply fix in your mind the certainty and im- 
portance of the transactions of this last, great day. Med- 
itate upon it as a reality in which you have a momentous 
interest. Let every other day, as it passes, put you in 
mind of this in which all others will end. Consider also 



DAY OF JUDGMENT. 11 

that it draws near. Every moment bears us on towards 
the great tribunal. Mockers may say, Where is the prom- 
ise of his coming ? " But the day of the Lord will come 
as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall 
pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt 
with fervent heat ; the earth also, and the works therein, 
shall be burned up." 2 Pet. 3 : 10. 

O, reader, whoever thou art, let me entreat you to 
inquire, without delay, whether you are prepared for the 
scrutiny gjid judgment of this coming day ? Have you 
made your peace with God ? Have you repented of all 
your sins ? Are you in union with Christ by faith ? Have 
you any clear scriptural evidence that your sins are par- 
doned ? What says conscience to these inquiries ? Be 
assured, if your own heart condemns you, God, who is 
greater than your heart, and knoweth all things, will much 
more condemn you. But your situation is not like that 
of them whose day of grace is ended. You are yet in the 
place of reconciliation. You have yet a little time before 
you — God only knows how much. Now, then, hear the 
voice of warning — hear the voice of mercy. Now "strive 
to enter in at the strait gate.' ^ Now forsake your sins and 
live. Accept the offered grace — " lay hold on eternal life.'' 

Let no consideration induce you to delay your conver- 
sion. The importance of salvation — the uncertainty of 
life — the danger of provoking the Holy Spirit to abandon 
you — the example of thousands who have perished by 
procrastination — should urge you to lose no time, but to 
fall in with the gracious invitation of the Gospel. But if 
you will refuse, then prepare to meet an angry God ! 
Harden yourself against the terrors of the Almighty; 
summon all your fortitude to hear your dreadful doom 
from the Judge of quick and dead. But I forbear — there 
is no fortitude or patience in hell. 

Reader, art thou advanced in years ? Let thy gray 
hairs, and pains, and wrinkles admonish thee that thou 
art near to judgment ; for what if death intervene, yet after 



12 DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

death all preparation is impossible. Just as death finds us, 
so will judgment. " In the place where the tree falleth, 
there it shall be." Eccl. 11:3. Consider also that the 
number of your sins is in proportion to the number of your 
days. Long life will prove a dreadful curse to those who 
die in their sins. 

But if thou art in youth, or in the vigor of manhood, 
remember that thy life is a vapor ; that most men do not 
live out half their days ; and that of those who shall appear 
before the judgment-seat, comparatively few will have 
finished their course of threescore years and ten. " Re- 
member now thy Creator in the days of thy youth." Eccl. 
12: 1. "Behold, the Judge standeth before the door." 
James 5:9. Others have been suddenly taken away from 
your side. They also intended to make preparation here- 
after ; but while they were pleasing themselves with the 
prospect of many years, and were saying, " Soul, take thine 
ease, thoG hast much goods laid up for many years," God 
said, " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 
thee. Be ye therefore ready also, for at such an hour as 
ye think not, the Son of man cometh." " Behold, the axe is 
laid at the root of the tree,''^ and now perhaps thou art spared, 
on account of the prayer of some kind intercessor, for one 
year. This, for aught thou knowest, may be thy last year. 
If so, it behooves you to make good use of your time and 
privileges. Let the idea of the judgment be ever before 
your mind. There you must appear — there you must stand 
and render up your account — there you must be filled with 
overwhelming shame and terror — there you must hear the 
awful final sentence, which will fix your doom irreversibly, 
unless by a speedy repentance, and by faith in Jesus Christ, 
you flee from the wrath to come. 

May God, of his infinite mercy, cause the truths which 
you have read in this Tract to sink deeply into your mind ; 
and by the light of his Holy Spirit lead you to just views 
of your own condition, and to saving views of the Lord 
Jesus Christ, the only Redeemer of lost sinners ! Amen. 



]¥o. 33. 

REDEMPTION. 



BY JOSEPH JOHN GURNEY, 

A MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS, 



" This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus 
Christ came into the world to save sinners." 1 Tim. 1 : 15. 

The mercy of God in Christ Jesus is a subject which 
I have long been accustomed to regard as superior to aH 
others, in point of interest and importance. Sensible, m 
some degree, of the perfect purity of an omnipresent Deity, 
as well as of the corruption of my own heart, I rejoice in the 
assurance that means are provided through which the stain 
of my sins may be washed out, and through which I may be 
accepted with favor by the Author of all true happiness. 
Nor is it wonderful that I should entertain for others whom 
J love, an earnest, and even painful solicitude, that they also 
may be brought to the discovery of this way of escape, and 
may come to acknowledge Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, 
to be " the propitiation for their sins " — their " resurrection," 
and their "life." 

Animated by these feelings, I cannot but be willing, 
according to the best of my ability, ta communicate scrip- 
tural information on the great doctrine of Redemption ; and 
most happy shall I be to assist any anxious inquirer, on this 
all-important article of the Christian faith. Since, however, 
I am well aware how useless it is to attempt the formation of 
a superstructure without laying a foundation, I shall take the 
liberty, in the first place, of stating two or three propositions, 
which will be found necessaiy to the validity of my future 



» REDEMPTION. 

observations, but upon which it is far from my design to enter 
into any detailed argument. 

Let it be observed, in the first place, that Christianity is 
to be received, not as a moral science of human invention, 
but as a religion revealed to mankind hy the' Creator himself, 
and j)romulgated upon his authority. In reference to this 
primary position, there are a few particulars of evidence to 
which it may be desirable for us shortly to advert. 

1 . That the writings of which the New Testament con- 
sists are genuine — that they were written in the Apostolic 
age, and by the individuals with whose names they are 
inscribed — is a point evinced to be true by a greater variety 
and quantity of evidence than has probably ever been brought 
to bear on a similar subject. We may adduce, in the first 
place, a multitude of Christian writers, from the first century 
downwards, who have made innumerable quotations from the 
various parts of that sacred volume ; secondly, many canons 
or lists of the books of the New Testament, and commen- 
taries on its several parts, composed at various times during 
the second, third, and fourth centuries of the Christian era ; 
thirdly, versions of the New Testament into a variety of 
foreign dialects, some of which versions — for example, the 
Syriac, the old Latin, and the Sahidic — were probably writ- 
ten in the course of the second century ; fourthly, the 
heathen enemies of Christianity — especially Celsus, Porphy- 
ry, and Julian — who, in their attacks on the divine authority 
of our religion, were so far from denying the genuineness 
of the New Testament, that they frequently referred to it as 
written by the Apostles and Evangelists. And lastly, these 
external evidences are abundantly confirmed by numerous 
internal indications of a genuine origin : for example, the 
Hebraistic Greek, in which the whole volume is composed — 
a dialect which distinguishes it from all the works of the 
fathers, and plainly indicates both its real date and the coun- 
try of its authors ; the absence of anachronisms ; the uniform 



REDEMPTION. 3 

ity of style subsisting in those several parts of it which are 
attributed to the same authors ; and, above all, the exactness 
with which, on a comparison with other allowed sources of 
information, it is found to unfold, in an incidental manner, 
the customs and circumstances of the Jews, Romans, and 
Greeks, during the age of Christ and his apostles. 

Nor can we with any reason question the correctness of 
the text of the New Testament ; for although the early mul- 
tiplication of copies naturally gave rise to some unimportant 
various readings, it obviously afforded an ample check upon 
any wilful alteration of the common record. In the numer- 
ous manuscripts of the Greek Testament now existing, some 
of which are of very considerable antiquity, in the early ver- 
sions, and in the quotations made by the ancient fathers, 
modern critics have found sufficient criteria for the settle- 
ment of the sacred text ; and the result of their indefatigable 
inquiries is this — that the New Testament, as Christians for 
several centuries past have been accustomed to read it, con- 
tinues unimpaired — that it has not been deprived of a single 
article of faith, a single historical narration, or a single 
moral precept. 

2. It being a well established point, that the writings of 
which the New Testament consists are the genuine work 
of the evangelists and apostles, we may, in the next place, 
observe that the history related in those writings is credible 
and true. In support of this proposition, it might be suffi- 
cient to remark, that the Gospels were composed by four 
honest, simple, and independent writers ; two of whom were 
apostles, and eye-witnesses of the facts which they relate, 
and the other two companions of apostles, and in full posses- 
sion of the exact sources of information. With regard to 
the book of Acts, the truth of the history contained in it is 
evinced in a highly satisfactory manner, (as Paley has ingen- 
iously shown in his ' Horse Paulinas,') by a variety of incident- 
al accordances between that book and the Epistles of Paul. 



4 REDEMPTION. 

It is true that the history of Jesus is a miraculous his- 
tory, ^nd therefore requires for its confirmation a greater 
quantity and higher degree of evidence than could reason- 
ably be demanded to secure the belief of history in general. 
But the evidences of which we are in possession, are amply 
sufficient to meet the peculiarities of the case. That these 
miraculous events really occurred, rests on the especial tes- 
tnnony of all the original promulgators of the Gospel. Not 
only have Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, recorded them 
in their writings, but it is plain that the apostles in general 
grounded their preaching of the Gospel on the authority of 
these facts. Acts 2 : 22 ; 10 : 38. That principal miracle, 
more particularly, the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the 
dead, was an event to which, in an especial manner, they 
uniformly bore witness. Acts 1 : 22 ; 4 : 33. Now, that the 
testimony of the first preachers of the Gospel, on the subject 
of these miracles, was true, must be allowed, for the follow- 
ing plain reasons : 1 . Because it was the accordant testimo- 
ny of numerous witnesses; 2. Because the written records 
of these supernatural events abound in the internal marks of 
simplicity, candor, and entire fidelity ; 3. Because, on the 
one hand, the miracles to which the apostles bore witness, 
were of such a nature, that they could not possibly have 
been themselves deceived respecting them ; and, on the other 
hand, the real integrity and goodness which these persons 
displayed, absolutely preclude the supposition that they in- 
tended to deceive others ; 4. Because they confirmed the 
truth of their testimony by lives of unexampled self-denial, 
and by a willing submission to innumerable sufferings, and 
even to the infliction of death itself; 5. Because, in further 
proof of the truth of their declarations respecting Jesus Christ, 
they were enabled to work miracles themselves. This fact 
is repeatedly recorded in the book of Acts : it is proved, first, 
by the appeals which the Apostle Paul, in his authentic let- 
ters, has made to the miracles wrought by him in the pres- 



REDEMPTION. 5 

ence of those very persons whom he thus addresses ; as well 
as to the supernatural powers with which some of those per- 
sons were themselves endowed, Rom. 15 : 19; 1 Cor. 14; 
2 Cor. 12 : 12 ; and, secondly, by a known result, for the 
production of which such extraordinary interpositions of di- 
vine power appear to have been essential — I mean the won- 
derfully extensive promulgation of early Christianity, not 
only without the assistance of human authority, but in direct 
opposition to the systems, habits, and prejudices of the whole 
heathen world. 

The miracles of Jesus Christ and his apostles, therefore, 
really took place ; they were true miracles. Now we ac- 
knowledge that God created all things, and instituted those 
general laws by which the order of nature is regulated and 
maintained; and miracles are supernatural infractions of 
those general laws, and changes in that order. Every rea- 
sonable theologian will allow that no creature can possess 
any inherent, independent power of controverting the de- 
signs, or of interrupting the harmonious arrangements, of an 
omnipotent God ; and hence it follows, according to my ap- 
prehension, that all true miracles, like the original creation, 
are to be regarded as the especial work of God himself. If, 
however, it is granted, that a certain limited and controlled 
power over the order of nature has sometimes been permit- 
ted, for especial purposes, to be exercised by evil spirits, such 
an allowance by no means affects the Christian miracles; 
which not only proclaimed their own divine origin, by their 
astonishing variety and greatness, but were wrought in direct 
attestation of a professed revelation from God, and for the 
furtherance of ends perfectly consistent with his justice, 
holiness, and mercy. Christianity, then, was attested by 
supernatural events, of which the Deity was the sole and 
immediate author ; a fact to which nothing similar can be 
predicated either of Mahometanism, or of any of the religious 
systems of the heathen : Christianity, therefore, and Chris- 
tianity only, is the religion of God. 



6 REDEMPTION. 

3. It appears, in the third place, to be a clear and un- 
deniable position, that the actual knowledge of the future is 
an attribute peculiar to the Divine Being. No one, who 
admits the existence of the one God, will refuse to allow 
that, in point of both knowledge and power, he is placed at 
an infinite distance above all his creatures — that, while he 
regulates the course of events according to his own will, 
none of those creatures are his counsellors, and none of them 
are capable of penetrating his secret designs and intentions. 
From these premises, it follows that all prophecies, which, 
by their exact fulfilment, are proved to have proceeded, not 
from intellectual sagacity and human conjecture, but from 
actual foreknowledge, must have been inspired, or dictated 
by the Almighty himself; and further, that the religion 
which is attested by such prophecies, is a divinely author- 
ized religion. 

That Christianity is attested by true prophecies, is a fact 
capable of easy proof. Jesus Christ was a prophet, and 
during his conversation among men, accurately predicted a 
variety of events, which were then future ; especially his 
own death and resurrection, and the circumstances by which 
they were to be attended ; the outpouring of the Holy 
Ghost ; and the approaching sufferings of the Jews, with 
the destruction of their city and temple. But perhaps the 
most striking prophecies which attest the truth of Chris- 
tianity, are those contained in the Old Testament, and relat- 
ing to our Saviour himself. The writings of the Hebrew 
prophets are replete with the promises of a great spiritual 
deliverer, denominated the Messiah, who was appointed to 
appear in the world at a certain period declared by the 
prophet Daniel. In various parts of these writings — com- 
posed as they were by a number of unconnected persons, 
living at different periods — it is predicted, that this long- 
expected deliverer should arise, according to the flesh, out 
of the seed of Abraham, Gen. 22 : 18, and from the family 



REDEMPTION. 7 

of David, Isa. 11:1; Jer. 23 : 5 ; that he should be born, 
miraculously, of a virgin, Isa. 7:14; that his birthplace 
should be Bethlehem, Micah 5:2; that his outward situa- 
tion should be of a very humble description, Isa. 53 : 2 ; 
that he should be engaged in proclaiming glad tidings, and 
in relieving the sufferings of mortality, Isa. 61 : 1 ; that his 
character should be distinguished for gentleness, kindness, 
faithfulness, and all righteousness, Isa. 11 : 4-6 ; 42 : 1-3 ; 
that nevertheless the Jews would refuse to believe in him, 
Isa. 53 : 1 ; that he should be despised, rejected, and per- 
secuted of men, Isa. 53 : 3, 4 ; Ps. 22 ; that he should be 
betrayed by one of his familiar friends, and that his follow- 
ers should be scattered from him, Ps. 41 : 9 ; Zech. 13 : 7; 
that he should be led as a lamb to the slaughter, and be as 
a sheep dumb before his shearers, Isa. 53 : 7 ; that he should 
be cut off, yet not for himself, Dan. 9 : 26 ; that his body 
should not see corruption, nor his life be left in the grave, 
Ps. 16 : 10 ; finally, that he should ascend into heaven, Ps. 
68 : 18 ; and that he should exercise an universal and never- 
ending government over mankind, Ps. 72 : 8 ; Isa. 9:7; 
Dan. 7 : 14. In addition to these leading facts, there are 
predicted in the Old Testament a number of minor particu- 
lars respecting the life and death of the Messiah ; and, to 
complete their wonderful statement, the prophets, whilst they 
depict the circumstances of his human nature, and especially 
his many humiliating sufferings, describe him nevertheless 
as one possessing the name and character of Jehovah himself. 
Ps. 45 : 6 ; Isa. 7 : 14 ; 9 : 6 ; 35 : 4 ; 40 : 3, 9, 10 ; Jer. 
23 : 6 ; Zech. 2 : 10-13 ; Mai. 3:1. 

At the time appointed for the appearance of the Messiah, 
Jesus was born, of the seed of Abraham, of the family of 
David, at Bethlehem, of a virgin. We find him living in a 
humble outward condition — engaged in preaching the Gos- 
pel, in healing the sick, and in relieving every species of 
bodily and mental distress — meek, gentle, kind, faithful, and 



O REDEMPTION. 

fulfilling all righteousness — not believed by the Jews — de- 
spised, rejected, and persecuted of men — betrayed by his 
familiar friend — forsaken in the hour of trial by all his fol- 
lowers — led as a lamb to the slaughter — dumb in the pres- 
ence of his persecutors — cut off, but not for himself — rising 
from the dead — ascending into heaven, and assuming a spir- 
itual government over men — fulfilling in his own character 
and circumstances a variety of minor particulars — and all 
these things in precise accordance with the predictions of the 
Old Testament. More particularly, in the midst of his hu- 
miliations and distresses, and notwithstanding the lowliness 
and piety of his human character, we find him, in agreement 
with those predictions, receiving the homage, asserting the 
character, displaying the powers, and described by the titles, 
which appertain to Jehovah himself. Matt. 14 : 33 ; John 
20 : 28, 29 ; Matt. 9:2-6; 12 : 6, 8 ; 18 : 20 ; John 5 : 
21-23 ; 10 : 28-30 ; 14 : 9, 23 ; 16 : 7 ; Rev. 2 : 23 ; Matt. 
8 : 3, 8-13 ; compare Acts 9 : 34 ; Luke 8 : 24 ; Matt. 12 : 
25 ; John 16 : 19, 30 ; compare Rev. 2 : 23 ; John 20 : 22 ; 
John 1:1; Rom. 9:5; Rev. 19 : 16. 

When a lock and key precisely correspond, though they 
be of a simple character, a presumption arises that they were 
intended for one another. When, instead of being formed 
in a simple manner, they are respectively complex and 
curiously WTought in different directions, and nevertheless 
correspond, such a presumption is exceedingly strength- 
ened. But when the lock is not only coriiplex and curiously 
wrought, but contains such an extraordinary and wonderful 
combination of parts as to be absolutely sui generis, and with- 
out parallel ; when, among Elll the keys in the world, none 
present even a slight approach to a correspondent conforma- 
tion except one, and by that the lock is easily and exactly 
fitted — ^then, surely, is all doubt on the subject discarded ; 
and it becomes a moral certainty that the lock and key pro- 
ceeded from the same master hand, and truly appertain to 



REDEMPTION. 9 

each other. Now this is a familiar but precise representa- 
tion of the evidence afforded, by a comparison between the 
Old and New Testaments, that the prophecies concerning 
Jesus Christ were true prophecies j that they were inspired 
by an omniscient God ; and^ therefore, that the religion which 
they attest is a religion of divine origin. 

4. It is generally allowed, by all persons who confess 
the existence and unity of God — whether they are believers 
in the Christian revelation or otherwise — that he is a Being, 
not only of infinite power and knowledge, but of the highest 
moral perfections. A comprehensive view even of natural 
religion leads to an easy admission of the declarations of the 
sacred writers, that God is just, holy, true, bounteous, and 
merciful. Such being the moral attributes of our heavenly 
Father, we cannot refuse to allow, that it is our reasonable 
service to walk in his fear, to worship him with devotion of 
spirit, to obey his law, to promote his glory, and more espe- 
cially to set our love upon him with the whole heart. And 
yet it is a fact, to which the history of past ages and present 
observation bear alike the most decisive testimony, that, by 
mankind in their unregenerate condition, this reasonable ser- 
vice is set aside and neglected. Now Christianity, consid- 
ered as a religious system, consisting of both doctrines and 
precepts, and applied by faith to the heart — that is to say, 
comprehensive and vital Christianity — is unquestionably the 
means of so transfor7ning men that, in the dispositions of the 
soul, and in the regulation of the conduct, they come to 
" render unto God the things that are God's." 

But, further, when the true Christian is thus introduced 
to a peaceful communion with the Father of spirits, he is 
gradually weaned from his evil passions, and becomes con- 
formed, in his own person, to the moral attributes of the 
Deity. As the face of a man is seen reflected in the mirror, 
so are those attributes seen reflected in his life and conver- 
sation. Pretenders to religion — the mere professors of the 

VOL. T. 18 



10 REDEMPTION. 

Christian name — form no exception to this observation, be- 
cause they have no real connection with our argument ; but 
of those persons who place a full reliance upon Christ as 
their Saviour, and who have yielded themselves without le- 
serve to his guidance and government, it may with truth be 
asserted, that they are created anew in the image of their 
Maker. Undoubtedly they have still to contend with innu- 
merable infirmities, and with many corrupt inclinations ; and 
thev can readily acknowledge, that, in the sight of the Most 
High, they are less than nothing, and vanity. Nevertheless, 
in the integrity of their words and actions, in the purity of 
their intentions and conduct, in their kindness, charity, and 
long-suffering, towards all around them, they show forth the 
truth, the holiness, and the love of that Being from whom 
alone all their virtue is derived. 

Lastly, Christianity procures for mankind a pure and 
substantial happiness. The true Christian is happy far 
above all other persons, for various reasons : because, though 
his sins have been many, he is reconciled to the Father, 
through the mediation of the Son ; because, notwithstanding 
his natural weakness, he is enabled to walk in the way of 
righteousness, by the power of the Holy Spirit ; because 
a sense of the divine love and approbation dwells in his 
heart ; because he is taught to regard every tribulation as a 
moral disciplme directed to greater good ; and, lastly, be- 
cause he is animated by the expectation of a future joy, per- 
fectly unsullied in its nature, and eternal in its duration. 

Now the several excellent results which have formed 
the subject of these observations, have never been adequate- 
ly produced in men by any principles, except those of Chris- 
tianity ; but by the principles of Christianity, when cordially 
embraced and fully submitted to, they are produced without 
fail. Experience may convince us that the contrivance 
of so comprehensive, so extraordinary, and so operative a 
moral system, wrs placed far bevnnd the reach of human 



REDEMPTION. 11 

invention : like the works of nature, it can be traced to noth- 
ing less efficacious than the wisdom, the power, and the 
love of God. 

Christianity, therefore, is the religion of God ; and since 
it is impossible that, in bringing his reasonable creatures into 
true piety, virtue, and happiness, the God of all truth should 
employ a mere illusion, it plainly follow\s that Christianity 
is true — that its doctrines are real, its hopes substantial, its 
promises and threatenings certain. 

5. Christianity, then, being the religion of God — the true, 
and only true religion — where are we to find an authorized 
record of the doctrines of which it consists 1 I answer, not 
in the scholastic productions of polemical divines ; not in the 
treatises of modern and uninspired theologians ; not in the 
declarations of any particular church ; but in the genuine 
compositions of inspired men : in the Holy Scriptures of the 
Old and New Testament. 

The genuineness of the New Testament is a point to 
which I have already adverted. - That of the various books 
of history, law, psalmody, and prophecy, which compose the 
Old Testament, is satisfactorily evinced by the quotations 
made from these writings in every part of the New Testa- 
ment ; by a Greek version of the Hebrew Scriptures, written 
at a date long prior to the Christian era ; by the plain testi- 
mony of Josephus, Philo, and other Jewish writers ; by the 
care which the ancient Jews are known to have exercised, 
in order to the incorrupt preservation of their sacred books ; 
by the fact that, before the captivity, the law of Moses was 
often read in public, and that, after the captivity, the reading 
of both the law and the prophets formed a regular part of the 
synagogue service ; and, lastly, by a variety of internal evi- 
dences, derived from language and style, from the circum- 
stantiality of description and narrative, and from the mutual 
yet incidental accordance of part with part. 

It being admitted that the Scriptures of the Old and 



12 REDEMPTION. 

New Testament are genuine, that the Gospel history is true, 
and that Christ was a divinely commissioned teacher, we 
are placed at once in possession of satisfactory evidence that 
these writings were given hy inspiration of God. That such 
was the fact, as it regards the Old Testament, is expressly 
declared by the apostle Paul, 2 Tim. 3 : 16 ; and the testi- 
mony of this apostle on the subject is confirmed by that of 
Jesus Christ himself, who, in his conversations with the Jews, 
and with his disciples, frequently referred to the Jewish Scrip- 
tures in such a manner as plainly to attribute to them an 
absolute and unquestionable authority. With respect to the 
New Testament, we learn from the authentic history which 
it contains, that the persons by whom it was written — espe- 
cially the apostles, who composed the greater part of it — were 
directly inspired ; and inspired for the purpose of promul- 
gating Christian truth. Whether it was by preaching or by 
writing that they performed the service thus committed to 
them, it is indisputable — since the Gospel history is true — 
that their doctrine rested not on their own authority, but on 
that of the Divine Being whom they served, and flowed from 
no other source than his Holy Spirit. See Matt. 10 : 18- 
20 ; Luke 24 : 46-49 ; John 14 : 26 ; Acts 2 : 4 ; 1 Cor. 2 : 
3-5, etc. 

Inspiration, it may be remarked, operates under various 
circumstances, and is bestowed in various measures. Now, 
that the inspiration of the apostles and of some of their com- 
panions was of a very high and plenary description, may be 
inferred from a most important fact already noticed, viz., 
that they were endued with the power of working miracles. 
The work of God confirmed the word of God. The signs 
and wonders which the Lord displayed, through the agency 
of those gifted men, afforded a specific and irresistible evi- 
dence, that he was also the author of their doctrine, in what- 
soever form that doctrine was delivered. 

To the external proofs of which we are thus in posses- 



REDEMPTION. 13 

sion, that the Holy Scriptures were given by inspiration, 
and that their contents are therefore to be received as of 
divine authority, are to be added many powerful internal 
evidences. He who takes a sound and comprehensive view 
of the wonderful variety and richness of the sacred records — 
of the admirable moral harmony which pervades the whole 
volume — of the perfect adaptation of the preparatory system, 
as described by Moses and the prophets, with the fulness of 
Gospel light as revealed to us in the New Testament— -of the 
practical excellence of those doctrines, precepts, and senti- 
ments, which distinguish the Bible from all other books, or 
which, in other books, are simply borrowed from the Bible — 
will presently confess, not only that the religion unfolded in 
the Scriptures is divine, but that the record itself must be 
traced, not to the unassisted efforts of fallible men, but to the 
spirit of perfect wisdom — to the mind which cannot err. 

The Scriptures, then, are a divinely inspired record of 
religious truth. If I am told that there is much in the Bible 
which even the learned cannot understand, and some things, 
perhaps, which the wicked have perverted to evil purposes, 
I would observe, in reply, that in this respect there is an 
obvious analogy between the written loord and the works of 
God ; for there is much also in the science of nature itself, 
which the wise cannot comprehend, and which the vicious 
have misapplied to evil. And I would further remark, that 
the Scriptures are not intended to gratify the curiosity, or to 
illuminate the speculations of worldly wisdom ; but to in- 
struct the humble and devotional reader, and to teach the 
simple and the meek the way to heaven. To such as these, 
whatsoever be their condition in life, or their measure of 
mental cultivation, the Bible, as to every main doctrine, and 
every practical principle, is explicit and intelligible. While 
the divine law is so accordant with the conclusions of pro- 
found reasoning, that the most enlightened philosophers have 
yielded to it their willing homage ; it is also so plain, that 



14 REDEMPTION. 

when it is received with simplicity and godly sincei'ity, " the 
wayfaring man, thougli a fool, shall not err therein." 

6. Having thus briefly surveyed some of the principal 
evidences, from which the conclusion is safely deduced that 
Christianity is true, and that the Bible contains a genuine 
and divinely inspired record of all its truths, we may now 
proceed to inquire what things that sacred volume declares 
respecting God, ourselves, and Jesus Christ. 

There is nothing by which the Scriptures are more emi- 
nently distinguished, nothing by which their importance and 
divine origin are more clearly evinced, than by the infor- 
mation which they impart, respecting the nature and char- 
acter of God. Much light, indeed, on this great subject, may 
be derived from the works of the Deity which surround us 
on every side, and which proclaim, in intelligible language, 
his wisdom, power, and goodness ; and also from that moral 
sense of his own existence and authority, which — however 
it may in numberless instances be depraved and perverted — 
he appears to have impressed universally on the mind of 
man. But the knowledge which we derive from natural 
religion respecting God, is, in a wonderful manner, aug- 
mented and completed in the records of his revealed will. 
We learn from the Scriptures that there is no other God but 
Jehovah — that he exists from eternity to eternity — that he 
is the creator, governor, and preserver of the universe — that 
he is omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly 
wise — that in him we live, and move, and have our being — 
that he is the author of the moral law — that he is the source 
of every good and perfect gift, and more especially of ever- 
lasting life — that he is holy, just, true, faithful, righteous, 
long-suffering, and merciful — that he is love ; a tender and 
compassionate Father to those who walk in his fear and obey 
his law — that, eternal and infinite as he is, he graciously ex- 
tends his immediate care to the most minute interests of his 
creatures — that not a sparrow falleth to the ground without 



REDEMPTION. 15 

him, and that he numbers the very hairs of our heads. It 
is more particularly to our present purpose to observe, that 
the Deity is ever described in the Bible as a being of abso- 
lute purity ; so that in his sight every species of iniquity, 
whether in thought, word, or deed, is abominable. Hence 
it follows, " that he" will by no means clear the guilty, and 
that " without holiness no man shall see the Lord." 

Here I would remark, that while the inspired writers 
bear the most ample and decisive testimony to the unity of 
the Supreme Being — while the great principle that God is 
one, lies at the very foundation of their scheme of religion, 
and pervades it in every part — we nevertheless learn, from 
many of their declarations, that in that great scheme of mer- 
cy which he has ordained for our salvation, the one God has 
manifested himself to mankind, as the Father, the Son, and 
the Holy Spirit. 

The mode of that distinction and of that union which we 
believe to subsist in the Divine nature, is placed far beyond 
the reach of our limited comprehension, and can never be a 
fit subject either for speculation or for definition ; but the 
doctrine that there is such a distinction, and that there is 
such a union, will never cease to be highly prized by those 
persons who are aware of its practical influence and opera- 
tion. I may confess that it has long appeared to me to be a 
sound and necessary deduction, not only from the passages 
of Scripture in which the Creator, the Redeemer, and the 
Comforter, are upheld to view as the common sources of our 
spiritual good, and the common objects of our faith and alle- 
giance, but from all those also in which there is a distinct 
reference to the divinity either of the Son or of the Spirit. 
See Matt. 28 : 19 ; John 14 : 26 ; 1.5 : 26 ; 16 : 13-15 ; 2 
Cor. 13 : 14 ; compare John 1 : 1-3, etc. ; Acts 13:2; 1 
Cor. 12: 11; 2 Cor. 3 : 17. 

Respecting ourselves, the Scriptures reveal many truths 
of the highest importance to us. From various declarations 



16 REDEMPTION. 

contained in them, we plainly learn, that man is endued not 
only with a frail body, but with a soul ; and that when the 
body perishes, the soul continues to exist, Matt. 10 : 28 ; 
16 : 26 ; 1 Thes. 5 : 23 ; Heb. 10 : 39 ; Luke 16 : 19-31 ; 
20 : 38 ; 23 : 42, 43 ; 2 Cor. 5 : 1-8 ; that, moreover, in a 
day to come, the dead will be raised in a body incorruptible 
and spiritual, John 5 : 28, 29 ; 1 Cor. 15 ; that this short 
life is the only time appointed for our probation ; and that, 
in another world, we shall all stand before the judgment-seat 
of Christ, and shall then, according to our works, be rewarded 
with everlasting happiness, or punished with everlasting mis- 
ery. Matt. 25 : 31-46 ; Rom. 2:6-11; 14 : 10 ; Rev. 20 : 
12-15. The Scriptures, moreover, declare that man^was 
created in the moral similitude of God ; that, yielding to the 
temptations of the devil, he fell from that image ; that now, 
being a fallen and depraved creature, he is, in his unregen- 
erate nature, prone to wickedness ; that his heart is " de- 
ceitful above all things, and desperately wicked ;" that " all 
have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;" that 
" they are together become unprofitable ; " that " there is none 
that doeth good, no, not one ;" and that thus " all the world " 
is " become guilty before God," Jei*. 17 : 9 ; Rom. 3 : 1-19, 
23; compare Isaiah 53 : 6 ; Matt. 15: 19; and "except 
a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." 
John 3:3. 

Such are the awful statements contained in the sacred 
volume respecting ourselves. Where, then, is there any 
hope for us, who are fallen, corrupt, inclined to sin, and, in 
so great a multitude of particulars, sinners ; and who are 
therefore separated in our natural state from a just and holy 
God, and are plainly liable to eternal separation from him 
in the world to come ? Truly our hope is only in the mercy 
of God, through the Saviour of men. A Saviour, or I die — 
a Redeemer, or I perish for ever! 

Lastly, therefore, we may inquire, what is the doctrine 



REDEMPTION. 17 

of the Bible respecting our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? 
We read in Scripture, that he is the Word — the Son of God 
the Father Almighty ; that in the beginning, before the world 
was created, and from everlasting, he was with God, John 
1:1; 17 : 5 ; compare Mic. 5:2; that by him all things 
were created that are in heaven, and that are in earth, Col. 

1 : 16 ; Heb. 1 : 2, 10 ; that without him was not any thing 
made that was made, John 1:3; that he was the light and 
life of men, John 1 : 4, 9 ; that he and the Father are one, 
John 10 : 30 ; that he is God, John 1:1; Jehovah our 
righteousness, Jer. 23 : 6 ; the mighty God, Isaiah 9:6; 
the true God, 1 John, 5 : 20 ; the great God, Tit. 2:13; 
God over all, Rom. 9:5; that he is the searcher of the 
reins and the hearts, knows what is in man, and bestows 
upon his servants all their spiritual gifts and graces. Rev. 

2 : 23 ; Acts 2 : 33 ; 2 Cor. 12 : 9 ; Eph. 4:11; the object 
of faith, prayer, glorification, and all worship, John 3 : 16 ; 
Acts 7 : 59, 60 ; 2 Cor. 12 : 8 ; Heb. 1 : 6 ; 13 : 21 ; Rev. 
5:13; that he " filleth all in all," Eph. 1 : 23 ; that he is 
" the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever " — the " Al- 
pha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and 
the last," Heb. 13:8; Rev. 22 : 13. The Bible further 
declares, that when the fulness of time was come, " God sent 
forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law," Gal. 
4:4; that the Word became flesh, John 1:14; that he 
was born a child into the world, and really took our frail 
nature upon him, being made in all points like unto his 
brethren, yet without sin, Heb. 2 : 14 ; that he went about 
doing good, healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, and 
hearing to the deaf, raising the dead to life, and preaching 
the Gospel to the poor ; that he was betrayed into the hands 
of wicked men, and died on the cross ; that on the third day 
he rose from the dead ; and that he ascended to the right hand 
of the Majesty on high, being restored to that state of infinite 
and unsearchable glory which he possessed in the Father's 

VOL L I^-- 



18 REDEMPTION. 

presence before the world began, John 17 : 5 ; Heb. 1:3; 
that now he is exalted of the Father, far above all princi- 
pality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every 
name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that 
which is to come, Eph. 1 : 21 ; finally, that he will bring 
to a termination the whole economy or dispensation of which 
he is the Mediator, by coming again with all his holy angels, 
for the final and universal judgment of quick and dead, when 
the wicked " shall go away into everlasting punishment, but 
the righteous into life eternal." Matt. 13 : 40-42; 24 : 30, 
31 ; 25 : 46 ; 1 Cor. 15 : 25-28. 

7. Having thus adduced some of the principal declara- 
tions of Scripture respecting the nature and history of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, I may proceed, without further delay, to 
the consideration of that doctrine of Redemption, for the 
elucidation of which this Tract is principally intended ; and 
I may commence by putting a very simple question. What 
could be the mighty and equivalent purpose for which this 
infinitely glorious Person, the Son of God, who is one with 
the Father, and is himself the everlasting Jehovah— should 
so marvellously condescend and humble himself as to take 
our nature upon him, in that nature to undergo every species 
of contumely and contradiction of sinners, and finally to die 
on the cross a cruel and shameful death ? 

When we reflect on the perfect adaptation which always 
subsists, and which is generally apparent in the operations 
both of nature and of providence, between the cause and the 
effect, the means and the end — when we thus take analogy 
as the ground of our reasoning — we can scarcely avoid per- 
ceiving how strong an improbability attaches to the supposi- 
tion, that SUCH AN ONE should not only come into the world, 
but should live, suffer, and die, as a man, for the single pur- 
pose o? revealing the truth. Experience teaches us that any 
inspired person, whose divine mission was attested by mira- 
cles, might have been an adequate instrument for that pur- 



REDEMPTION 19 

pose ; for it is evidently on this simple ground that Christians 
are unanimous in giving their credence to the doctrines de- 
livered to the Jews by Moses, and to the followers of Christ 
by the apostles. No doubt, to reveal the truth was one of 
the offices of our blessed Saviour — ^that chief of prophets : 
nor are we to forget, that it was another of his offices, by his 
holy and merciful life and conversation on earth, to institute 
that perfect pattern after which the conduct of his disciples, 
in all future ages, was to be formed and regulated. But 
important and salutary as these offices were, the peculiar 
circumstances of the case are such, as inevitably lead us to 
believe, that, in humbling himself from the height of his 
divine glory — in assuming our frail and suffering nature — 
and in subjecting himself even to the death of the cross — the 
Son of God had yet higher, nobler, and more comprehensive 
purposes in his view. When we consider the infinite dig- 
nity and absolute omnipotence of our heavenly Visitor, and 
the marvellous love which he has displayed in visiting us, 
we cannot fail to conclude that such a dispensation of divine 
mercy towards us was intended to supply all our spiritual 
need. Now, were we, through the means of that dispensa- 
tion, to receive nothing but information, precept, and exam- 
ple, our need would be far indeed from being supplied. 
Powerless and corrupt as we are, we should still be left to 
perish in our sins, and the light thus communicated to us 
would only aggravate our woe, and render our destruction 
more terrible. Where is the individual who understands 
the plague of his own heart, who is not aware that he stands 
in need, not only of information, but of reconciliation with 
God ; not only of light, but of life ; not only of precept and 
example, but of a disposition to obey the one and to follow 
the other ? Yes, my dear reader, the Gospel of our Lord 
and Saviour is no message of glad tidings to us, unless it 
proclaims to us indemnity and cure. In this way, and in this 
only, will it supply all our spiritual need. 



20 REDEMPTION. 

This plain course of reasoning leads us at once to tne 
conclusion, that Christ did indexed come in order to bestow 
upon us, not only information and precept, but pardon. But 
happily this is a subject on which we are not left to any 
conclusions of our own formation. It is one on which the 
declarations of Holy Writ are equally abundant and ex- 
plicit. 

The very first passage of Scripture in which the Mes- 
siah is alluded to, proclaims the great purpose of his mission. 
" I will put enmity," said Jehovah to the serpent, " between 
thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; 
it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." 
Gen. 3 : 15. Christian commentators generally allow, that 
by the seed of the woman is here intended the Messiah, and 
that by the serpent is represented the devil, the author of all 
moral evil. We therefore learn from the prophecy, that 
Christ was to bruise the serpent's head ; or, in other words, 
to destroy the devil and his works. Compare Heb. 2 : 14, 
" Forasmuch, then, as the children are partakers of flesh 
and blood, he also himself took part of the same ; that through 
death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that 
is, the devil ;" and 1 John, 3:8, "He that committeth sin 
is of the devil ; for the devil sinneth from the beginning. For 
this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might 
destroy the works of the devil." It was by means of his 
death, that the Messiah was to obtain a complete victory over 
our spiritual adversary ; a doctrine which perfectly accords 
with Isaiah's celebrated prophecy respecting his vicarious 
and propitiatory sufferings : " Surely he hath borne our 
griefs, and carried our sorrows ; yet we did esteem him 
stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded 
for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities ; the 
chastisement of our peace" — or whereby our peace is pro- 
cured — " was upon him ; and with his stripes we are healed. 
All we, like sheep, have gone astray ; we have turned every 



REDEMPTION. 21 

one to his own way ; and the Lord hath laid on him the 
iniquity of us all. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted : 
he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep 
before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. 
Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he 
shall divide the spoil with the strong ; because he hath pour- 
ed out his soul unto death : and he was numbered with the 
transgressors ; and he bare the sin of many, and made inter- 
cession for the transgressors." Isaiah 53 : 4-12. 

That this consolatory passage of Scripture relates to our 
Lord Jesus Christ, is proved, partly by strong internal evi- 
dence, and partly by the repeated testimony of the authors 
of the New Testament. Who does not perceive that it pro- 
claims pardon for the sinner, through the sufferings and death 
of a Saviour ? The same doctrine is powerfully expressed 
in the words addressed by Jehovah to the Messiah, as re- 
corded in the prophecies of Zechariah : " As for thee also, 
by the blood of thy covenant I have sent forth thy prisoners 
out of the pit wherein is no water. Turn you to the strong 
hold, ye prisoners of hope." Zech. 9 : 11, 12. 

Such are the declarations of prophecy respecting that 
mighty propitiation for sin, which was to distinguish the 
introduction of the Gospel dispensation ; nor ought it to be 
forgotten that the whole sacrificial institution of the Jews 
was " a shadow of good things to come," and had a direct 
relation to the same doctrine. This observation applies 
in a very especial manner to the slaying of the Lamb in 
the passover, and to the offering up of the bullock and goat 
on the great day of atonement. For Jesus Christ, " the 
Lamb slain from the foundation of the world," is described 
by the apostle Paul as " our passover," who " is sacrificed 
for us," 1 Cor. 5:7; and we are plainly taught, in the 
epistle to the Hebrews, that the High Priest who offered up 
the victims, first " for his own sins, and then for the peo- 
ple's," and who, on that solemn occasion, entered into the 



22 REDEMPTION. 

holiest place and sprinkled the blood over the mercy-seat, 
was but the type of that Saviour who is entered into the 
heavens for us, who sprinkles his blood on our hearts, and 
who " bv one offering hath perfected for ever them that are 
sanctified." Compare Lev. 16 with Heb. 9 ; 10. 

But in order to that destruction of the works of the 
devil which was to be effected by the Messiah, there was 
need not only of a propitiatory sacrifice, but of a powerful 
redeeming influence. Accordingly, in those prophecies of 
the Old Testament which are acknowledged by both Jews 
and Christians to relate to the times of the Messiah, we find 
many clear promises of the more abundant effusion of such 
an influence on the Lord's people, and of its practical and 
internal operation. " Thus saith the Lord that made thee, 
and formed thee from the womb, which will help thee ; Fear 
not, O Jacob, my servant ; and thou, Jesurun, whom I have 
chosen. For I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and 
floods upon the dry ground : I will pour my Spirit upon thy 
seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring." Isa. 44 : 2, 3. 
" Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be 
clean : from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will 
I cleanse you. A new heart also will I give you, and a new 
spirit will I put within you ; and I will take away the stony 
heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh. 
And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk 
in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do 
them." Ezek. 36 : 25-27. Precisely consonant with these 
passages is the description given by Jeremiah of the princi- 
pal characteristics of the New Covenant : " But this shall be 
the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel. 
After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their 
inward parts, and write it in their hearts ; and will be their 
God, and they shall be my people. And they shall teach 
no more every man his neighbor, and every man his brother, 
saying, Know the Lord : for they shall all know me, from 



REDEMPTION. 23 

the least of them unto the greatest of them, saith the Lord ; 
for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their 
sin no more." Jer. 31 : 33, 34. 

The blessings which were thus to distinguish the New 
Covenant are represented by Isaiah as the " sure mercies of 
David,^' that is, of the Messiah, the descendant of David, 
who was appointed in the counsels of the Most High to be 
" a witness to the people, a leader and commander to the 
people," Isa. 55: 1-4; and from. the various descriptions 
given to us, in the prophetical writings, of the universal au- 
thority and never-ending government of this Prince of peace, 
we can scarcely avoid deducing the inference, that he was 
himself to dispense those spiritual gifts, and to conduct those 
powerful internal operations, by which his dominion over the 
hearts of men was to bs obtained and secured. Accordingly, 
we learn from Psalm 68 : 18, that on his ascension into 
glory, the Messiah was to " lead captivity captive," and 
receive "gifts for men;" and Malachi has announced the 
sudden appearance and spiritual work of our Redeemer, in 
the following sublime language : " Behold, I will send my 
messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me : and 
the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, 
even the Messenger of the covenant whom ye delight in ; 
behold, he shall come, saith the Lord of hosts. But who may 
abide the day of his coming, and who shall stand when he 
appeareth ? for he is like a refiner's fire, and like fullers' 
soap. And he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver ; 
and he shall purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as 
gold and silver, that they may offer unto the Lord an offer- 
'ing in righteousness." Mai. 3 : 1-3. 

Thus then it appears, from the concurrent declarations of 
those ancient prophets who spake of Christ beforehand " as 
they were moved of the Holy Ghost," that the dispensation 
of the Gospel was " to finish the transgression,' and to make 
an end of sins, and to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to 



24 REDEMPTION. 

bring in everlasting righteousness, and to seal up the vision 
and prophecy, and to anoint the Most Holy." Dan. 9 : 24. 
Let us now direct our attention to the New Testament. 
When the angel Gabriel predicted to the virgin Mary the 
approaching birth of her Son, he added, " Thou shalt call 
his name Jesus, (or the Saviour;) for he shall save his peo- 
ple /rom their sins.''^ Matt. 1 : 21. By John the Baptist, 
also, the approaching Saviour of men was announced in the 
same character : " Behold the Lamb of God," said he, 
'" which takeih away the sin of the world.^' John 1 : 29. 

By our blessed Lord himself the great object of his 
coming was frequently and explicitly declared : " The Son 
of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.'' 
Luke 19:10. " The Son of man came not to be ministered 
unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." 
Matt. 20 : 28. " This is my blood of the New Testament, 
which is shed for many for the remission of sins." Matt. 
26 : 28. " As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilder- 
ness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up ; that who- 
soever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal 
life. God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the 
world, but that the world through him might be saved." 
John 3 : 14, 17. " I am the living bread which came down 
from heaven : if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for 
ever : and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I 
will give for the life of the world." John 6 : 51. After his 
ascension, also, when he delivered to the converted Paul an 
apostolic commission, he said, " I have appeared unto thee 
for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness;" 
" delivering thee from the people and from the Gentiles, to 
whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them 
from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inherit- 
ance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in 
me." Acts 26 : 16-18. 



REDEMPTION. 25 

A multitude of declarations to the same effect were 
made by our Lord's apostles. From these a few passages 
may be selected, by way of specimens, from the writino-s 
of John, Peter, and Paul. 

John. — " Whosoever committeth sin transgresseth also 
the law ; for sin is the transgression of the law. And ye 
know that he was manifested to take away our sins ; and in 
him is no sin. Whosoever abideth in him sinneth not." 
1 John, 3 : 4-6. " In this was manifested the love of God 
towards us, because that God sent his only-begotten Son 
into the world, that we might live through him. Herein is 
love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent 
his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. And we have 
seen and do testify, that the Father sent the Son to be the 
Saviour of the world." 1 John, 4 : 9, 10, 14. " What are 
these which are arrayed in white robes ? and whence came 
they 1 These are they which came out of great tribulation, 
and have washed their robes, and made them white in the 
blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne 
of God," etc. Rev. 7: 13-15. 

Peter. — " Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not 
redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from 
your vain conversation received by tradition from your 
fathers ; but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb 
without blemish and without spot." 1 Pet. 1 : 18, 19. 
" Because Christ also suffered for us" — " who his own self 
bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being 
dead to sins, should live unto righteousness : by whose stripes 
ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray ; but are 
now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls." 
1 Pet. 2 : 21, 24, 25. 

Paul. — " Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall 
no flesh be justified in his sight ; for by the law is the 
knowledge of sin. But now the righteousness of God with- 
out the law is manifested, being witnessed by the law and 



26 REDEMPTION. 

the prophets ; even the righteousness of God, which is by 
faith of Jesus Christ unto. all, and upon all them that believe ; 
for there is no difference : for all have sinned, and come short 
of the glory of God ; being justified freely by his grace, 
through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus ; whom God 
hath set forth to he a propitiation, through faith in his blood, 
to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that 
are past, through the forbearance of God ; to declare, I say, 
at this time his righteousness : that he might be just, and 
the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus." Rom. 3 : 
20-26. " For as by one man's disobedience many were 
made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be 
made righteous. Moreover the law entered, that the offence 
might abound. But where sin abounded, grace did much 
more abound : that as sin hath reigned unto death, even so 
might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life, 
by Jesus Christ our Lord." Rom. 5: 19-21. "For the 
wages of sin is death ; but the gift of God is eternal life, 
through Jesus Christ our Lord." Romans 6 : 23. "Christ 
also loved the church, and gave himself hr it ; that he might 
sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the 
word, that he might present it to himself a glorious church, 
not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing ; but that it 
should be holy and without blemish." Eph. 5 : 25-27. 
" Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and 
hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son ; in 
whom we have redemption through his blood, even the 
forgiveness of sins. And you, that were sometime alienated 
and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now hath 
he reconciled, in the body of his flesh through death, to 
present you holy, and unblamable, and unreprovable in his 
sight." Col. 1 : 13, 14, 21, 22. "For the grace of God 
that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching 
us, that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should 
live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world ; 



REDEMPTION. 27 

looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of 
our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ ; who gave himself 
for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." 
Tit. 2: 11-14. 

Justification through the blood of Christ, and sanctification 
by his Spirit, are very usually treated as distinct doctrines ; 
but different as they are in one point of view, it is never- 
theless evident, from the tenor of these extracts, that they 
are inseparably connected. Both are essential to the work 
of salvation ; both originate in the same divine mercy, and 
both are described, by the sacred writers, as arising out of 
the sacrifice of the Son of God. Was Christ " set forth " of 
the Father, to be " a propitiation through faith in his blood ?" 
Did he bear " our sins in his own body on the tree ?" Did 
he thus give himself for us? It was not only for the 
" remission of sins that are past," and for the justification 
of penitent believers, but also that " he might sanctify and 
cleanse " his church — " that he might redeem us from all 
iniquity "—that our consciences might be " purified from 
dead works, to serve the living God " — " that we, being 
dead to sins, should live unto righteousness." Tit. 2: 14; 
Heb. 9 : 14 ; 1 Pet. 2 : 24. 

" The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus," says the 
apostle, " hath made me free from the law of sin and death ; 
for what the law could not do, in that it was weak through 
the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful 
flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh ; that the 
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk 
not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." Rom. 8 : 2, 3. 
Again, " For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish, 
disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, 
living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another ; 
but afler that the kindness and love of God our Saviour 
toward man appeared, not by works of righteousness which 



28 REDEMPTION. 

we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by 
the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy 
Ghost; which he shed on us abundantly, through Jesus 
Christ our Saviour." Tit. 3 : 3-6. " I indeed baptize you 
with water," said John the Baptist to the Jews ; " but he that 
Cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not 
worthy to bear : he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, 
and with fire." Matt. 3: 11. Compare John 16: 26; 
1 John, 2 : 27. 

Lastly, we learn from the inspired writers that the same 
Mediator of the New Covenant, who was a propitiation for 
our sins, and who sheds forth on mankind the gifts and 
graces of the Holy Spirit, is mercifully engaged in pleading 
for his people before the throne of his Father. " My little 
children," said the apostle John, " these things write I unto 
you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advo- 
cate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." 1 John, 2 : 
1. " Who is he that condemneth ?" writes another apostle : 
" it is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen again, who 
also maketh intercession for us." Romans 8: 34. "But 
this man, because he continueth ever, hath an unchangeable 
priesthood. Wherefore he is able also to save them to the 
uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth 
to ?}iake intercession for them." Heb. 7 : 24, 25. 

Such are the powerful and harmonious statements pre- 
sented to us by prophets and apostles on the great subject 
of Christian Redemption. 

Now, to the inquiry already suggested — for what mighty 
and equivalent purpose the Son of God, by whom all things 
both in heaven and in earth were created, condescended to 
take our frail nature upon him, to dwell amongst us, and to 
die on the cross — these statements afford an intelligible and 
perfectly satisfactory answer. In his adorable mercy, in his 
almighty power, he came to deliver mankind ; to recover 
them from their lost condition; to save them from the 



REDEMPTION. 29 

dominion of Satan, and from everlasting destruction ; to 
supply all their spiritual need ; to reconcile them, through 
his own blood-shedding and mediation, to the Father Al- 
mighty ; to regenerate and sanctify them by his Holy Spirit ; 
to provide for them both indemnity and cure ; and thus to 
secure for them eternal life. Here are unfolded purposes 
worthy of the Son of God, and worthy of that peculiar dis- 
play of his love and condescension revealed to us in the 
Bible — purposes fully adequate to his divine dignity, and 
capable of being carried into effect only by him who, while 
he suffered in our suffering nature, was one with Jehovah — 
personally participating in the wisdom, power, and nature 
of the only true God. Whether, indeed, we regard the 
human nature of Christ — in which he died for us, and is 
still "touched with the feelings of our infirmities" — or his 
divine nature, which imparts a mighty efficacy to the whole 
plan of our redemption — we cannot but acknowledge, that 
between the spiritual wants of mankind, on the one hand, 
and the sure mercies of the Messiah of God, on the other, 
there is a nice, an accurate, a perfect adaptation. 

8. In order to avail ourselves of the means which God 
in his unsearchable wisdom has thus ordained for our sal- 
vation, it is plainly necessary that we should helieve in 
Jesus Christ. " These are written," says the apostle John, 
" that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son 
of God ; and that believing ye might have life through his 
name." John 20: 31. "God so loved the world," said 
Jesus himself, "that he gave his only-begotten Son, that 
whosoever belie veth in him, should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." John 3 : 16. " I am the resurrection, 
and the life : he that believeth in me, though he were dead, 
yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, 
shall never die." John 11 : 25, 26. Paul has declared 
that " a man is not justified by the works of the law, but 
by the faith of Jesus Christ," Gal. 2:16; and John the 



30 REDEMPTION. 

Baptist, when he bore witness to the power and excellency 
of the Lord Jesus, plainly stated the consequences both of 
believing and of not believing on the Son of God : " He that 
believeth on the Son hath everlasting life ; and he that 
believeth not the Son, shall not see life ; but the wrath of 
God abideth on him." John 3 : 36. 

Now, the faith in Christ which is thus frequently de- 
clared to be the means of our salvation, is not a mere assent 
of the understanding to the history and doctrines of the 
Gospel. Such a faith is of itself a " dead faith," and we 
read that the " devils also believe and tremble." Jas. 2 : 19. 
Saving faith is that living and active principle in our minds, 
by which, under the softening and purifying impressions gf 
the love of God, we accept the Lord Jesus Christ as our 
only Saviour ; spiritually feed upon him as upon the bread 
of life ; place a humble yet sure reliance upon his mercy 
and power ; and with full purpose and devotion of heart, 
submit our whole selves to his spiritual government. This 
is "the faith which worketh by love." Gal. 5 : 6. This is 
the faith which enables us to bring forth the pure and lovely 
fruits of holiness, charity, gentleness, patience, joy, and 
peace. And thus, " if any man be in Christ, he is a new 
creature : old things are passed away ; behold, all things are 
become new." 2 Cor. 5 : 17. 

Mortally diseased as we are — the fatal malady of sin 
rankling within us — how are we to experience recovery, 
if we refuse to accept the appointed remedy ? Then let us 
lay aside the " evil heart of unbelief;" let us no longer 
amuse ourselves with sceptical speculations on the theory of 
religion ; but rather let us lay hold of its substance, and flee 
from the wrath to come. Let us listen to the words of love 
and tenderness with which our compassionate Redeemer 
continues to invite us : " Come unto me, all ye that labor, 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest : take my 
yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly 



REDEMrTlON. 31 

in heart ; and ye shall find rest unto your souls : for my 
yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matt. 11 : 28-30. 
Yes, we must take upon us the yoke of Christ. " To obey 
is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams." 
1 Sam. 15 : 22. As we obtain reconciliation with the Father 
through the sacrifice of Christ, let us ever remember that we 
can be brought into a state of true holiness, and avail our- 
selves of that reconciliation, only by a full submission to the 
influence and guidance of his Spirit. It is by his Spirit that 
our all-sufficient Redeemer changes our vile hearts, mortifies 
our sinful affections, imparts to us his own holy nature, 
enables us to walk before him in purity and love, and thus 
prepares us for the enjoyment of that heavenly inheritance 
which he has meritoriously procured for us by his own perfect 
obedience, and by the sacrifice of himself. " If we walk in 
the light, as he (God) is in the light," says the apostle John, 
" we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus 
Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin." 1 John, 1 : 7. 

Nothing, indeed, can be more futile than even the most 
correct system of religious opinions, if our faith has no 
influence on the heart, and fails, therefore, to produce its 
legitimate consequence — a godly life and conversation. 
Every thing in Christianity is directed to practical pur- 
poses ; and in the day of righteous retribution, it will only 
aggravate our condemnation to have heard, understood, and 
approved the word of the Lord, if we shall have persisted 
in refusing to follow its dictates. " Not every pne that 
saith unto me. Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of 
heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is 
in heaven." "Every one that heareth these sayings of 
mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, 
which built his house upon the sand : and the rain descended, 
and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that 
house, and it fell ; and great was the fall of it." Matt. 7 : 
21, 26, 27. 



32 REDEMPTION. 

Before I conclude, allow me briefly to recapitulate my 
whole argument. 

Christianity is a religion which rests on the authority of 
God himself. 1. It is proved, by a greater variety and 
quantity of evidence than has ever been brought to bear on 
a similar subject, that the writings of which the New 
Testament is composed are genuine. 2. That the history 
recorded in those writings is true, we conclude from the 
testimony of several honest and independent witnesses ; 
and that testimony is so confirmed by a number of remark- 
able and indisputable facts, as fully to meet the peculiarities 
of the case, and to establish the reality of the Christian 
miracles. Now, miracles are interruptions of the order 
given to nature by an omnipotent God, and, like the creation 
itself, can justly be ascribed only to Him. Since, therefore, 
he has attested Christianity by true miracles, it follows 
that Christianity is a religion of divine authority. 3. The 
real foreknowledge of future events is an attribute which 
must also be deemed peculiar to the Almighty, and God 
has attested Christianity by true prophecies. Jesus Christ 
exactly predicted several events which were future when 
he spake. More especially, the prophecies of the Old 
Testament, respecting the Messiah, correspond with the 
character and history of Jesus, just as a lock of complicated 
and absolutely peculiar structure corresponds with its key. 
Hence, again, it follows, that Christianity is the religion of 
God. 4. The Deity is a being of moral perfections ; and 
Christianity is the instrument by which he so transforms 
unregenerate men, that they come to render unto him the 
fear, honor, and love, which are his due — to show forth his 
moral attributes in their own conduct — and to enjoy a sub- 
stantial and enduring happiness — whence the conclusion is 
again safely deduced, that our religion is divine. 

The Scriptures are a divinely inspired record of Christian 
truth. The inspiration of the writers of the Old Testament 



REDEMPTION. 33 

is evinced by the clear declarations, on that subject, of the 
apostles and of Christ himself. The inspiration of the 
writers of the New Testament, and especially of the apos- 
tles, is plainly recorded in the Gospel, history already 
proved to be true ; and these historical testimonies to the 
divine origin of the Scriptures are abundantly confirmed 
by the internal evidences derived from their holy, wise, 
harmonious, and practically efficacious contents. The 
difficulties in Holy Writ are analogous to those to be 
observed in natural science ; but to the simple-hearted, 
sincere, and devotional reader, and as far as relates to those 
things which appertain to our salvation, the inspired writ- 
ings are plain and intelligible. 

The Bible is re-pUte 2vith important information, respect- 
ing God, ourselves, and Jesus Christ. 1. The various at- 
tributes and perfections of the Deity are described in the 
Sacred Volume, with a force and precision which clearly 
indicate the Divine 04'igin of the book. More especially, the 
Scriptures represent the Deity as perfectly pure and just ; 
so that he utterly abhors all sin, and will assuredly punish 
those who continue under its influence. Without holiness 
none shall see God. 2. Respecting ourselves, the Scrip- 
tures declare that we are endued with a body and a soul — 
that the soul lives after death — that the dead will be raised 
in a spiritual body — that, in the eternal world to come, we 
shall, according to our works, be rewarded or punished, and 
be happy or miserable for ever — that we are fallen from the 
image of God in which Adam was created^-that we are 
naturally prone to sin, and universally sinners — and that of 
ourselves, therefore, we can entertain no hope of salvation. 
3. Respecting Jesus Christ, we read in the Bible, that he 
is the Son or Word of God, who was with God from ever- 
lasting — that all things were made by him — that he is one 
with the Father, and himself God or Jehovah — that he be- 
came incarnate, and assumed the nature of man, tarried 
VOL. I. 19 



34 REDEMPTION. 

upon earth, died on the cross, rose from the dead, ascended 
into heaven, and will come again to the judgment of quick 
and dead. 

To the question — for what purpose such an one should 
so marvellously humble himself, as to come into this world, 
assume our nature, and die on the cross — the answer has 
been given : " To supply all our spiritual need ; to bestow 
upon us not only information, precept, and example, but in- 
demnity and cure." This answer is explicitly confirmed 
by a multitude of passages selected from Holy Writ — by 
the perfectly accordant declarations of the prophets, of the 
angel Gabriel, of John the Baptist, of Christ himself, and of 
his apostles. These passages unfold in a luminous manner 
the whole doctrine of redemption, fully account for the great 
facts of the Gospel, and show that between the spiritual 
wants of mankind, and the mercies of God in Christ, there 
is an entire congruity. Lastly, I have observed, that we 
cannot avail ourselves of the promises and blessings of the 
Gospel, otherwise than by that true and living faith in Jesus, 
by which we rely upon him as upon our only Saviour, and 
through the operation of which we are sanctified, and bring 
forth the fruits of obedience, holiness, love, and peace. 

Allow me, my dear reader, to express an earnest and 
affectionate desire that such may be thy happy experience ! 
If the afflicting hand of divine chastisement has convinced 
thee of the utter instability of every earthly joy — if thou art 
made sensible, that in the fleeting scenes of this present state 
of existence, there is nothing which can satisfy the aspira- 
tions of an immortal spirit — if thou art prepared to acknow- 
ledge thyself to be unworthy of the love of God, wretched, 
and miserable, and blind, and poor, and naked — mayest 
thou find a sure refuge for a wounded and a weary spirit, 
in the bosom of the Holy Jesus ! May he be made unto 
thee of God, " wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- 
demption !" Thon, wliatsoever tribulations may be per- 



REDEMPTION. 35 

mitted to attend thy path during the remaining stages of thy 
mortal pilgrimage, all will be well. Thy portion will be a 
true peace with God even here, and, in the world to come, 
life everlasting. 

And now a single additional observation will bring this 
Tract to its conclusion. If we are taught to mourn over 
our sins, we shall mourn also over the sins of mankind : we 
shall be humbled before God with deep sorrow of heart, 
when we reflect on the forgetfulness of their Creator, the 
falsehood, lasciviousness, malice, cruelty, and bloodshed, 
which are still so fearfully prevalent among the sons of 
Adam. But every one who is brought to a right under- 
standing of the Gospel of Christ knows, that in its doctrines, 
as they are humbly accepted and practically applied, by 
the renewing and sanctifying agency of the Holy Ghost, 
there is a powerful remedial principle, by which moral evil 
of every description may be counteracted and subdued. 
Let us then pray for the hastening of that day when the 
dominion of Jesus shall extend " from sea to sea, and from 
the river unto the ends of the earth," Psalm 72 : 8 ; for 
under its blessed influence a mighty change shall still be 
wrought in the character and condition of men. " They 
shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears 
into pruning-hooks : nation shall not lift up sword against 
nation, neither shall they learn war any more." Isaiah 2 : 4. 
" The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard 
shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf, and the young 
lion, and the fatling together ; and a little child shall lead 
them. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy 
mountain, saith the Lord ; for the earth shall be full of the 
knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." Isaiah 
11 : 6, 9. Then shall this moral wilderness become a fruit- 
ful field. " The wilderness and the solitary place shall be 
glad for them ; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as 
the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice, even 



36 REDEMPTION. 

with joy and singing ; the glory of Lebanon shall be given 
unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon ; they shall 
see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God. 
And a highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be 
called, the way of holiness ; the unclean shall not pass over 
it, but it shall be for those : the wayfaring men, though 
fools, shall not err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any 
ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it shall not be found 
there; but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ran- 
somed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs 
and everlasting joy upon their heads : they shall obtain joy 
and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." 
Isaiah 35 : 1, 2, 8-10. 

While then, my dear reader, we experience in our- 
selves a redemption from sin, through faith in the Son of 
God; and look forward to the universal extension of the 
same purifying principle, let us prostrate ourselves in all 
humility before the everlasting Jehovah, and exclaim with 
the apostle, " Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 34. 

A SABBATH AT HOME. 

CONTAINING BISHOP HORNE'S NOTES ON THE 84TH PSALM. » 



" How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude ! 
But grant me still a friend in my retreat, 
When I may whisper — ' Solitude is sweet' 
Yet neither these delights, nor aught beside, 
That appetite can ask, or wealth provide. 
Can save us always from a tedious day. 
Or spin the dulness of still life away: 
Divine communion, carefully employed. 
Or sought with energy, must fill tlie void." 

COWPER. 

As I had taken a severe cold, and the morning was very 
stormy, I resolved to forego the gratification of attending the 
public services of religion. After the family was gone, I 
returned to my own room, from which I viewed, with pleas- 
ure, the rustic cottagers, and some few of the more respect- 
able inhabitants of the village, braving the severity of the 
weather, as they pressed towards the church. This scene 
alternately elevated and depressed my spirits ; but as the 
bell ceased to toll, I became more composed, and betook my- 
self to reflection. 

" Here I am, solitary and alone, while others are uniting 
in the solemn exercises of prayer and praise. I shall not 
hear this day ' the Gospel's joyful sound.' I shall not feel 
that sacred glow which has been enkindled within my breast 
in past seasons, when I have been holding fellow^ship with 
the saints. My harp, tuned to the songs of Zion, I must now 
hang up as a useless instrument, and spend these ' conse- 
crated hours ' in the solitude of silence. But the cause of 
my grief became a source of gratitude. There was a time, 
when, like too many w^ho profess and call themselves Chris- 
tians, I went to the ' house of prayer,' if not with reluctance, 
yet with indifference ', and when prevented from going, I felt 



2 A SABBATH AT HOME. 

no loss of happiness. But now, no place presents such pow- 
erful attractions, and when I am rendered incapable of visit- 
ing it, my spirit sinks within me. Public worship now is 
not so much a duty, as a privilege ; my taste is formed for 
its various parts ; its length does not weary me ; I love the 
habitation of the Lord's house, and the place where his honor 
dwelleth. Yes, there I heard the word of truth ; there I felt 
its power ; there my wounded spirit was healed ; there I 
have been animated with fresh courage to press onwards to 
the mark for the prize of my high calling ; there I have been 
raised above the conflicting passions and interests of this 
world, in the contemplation and enjoyment of things unseen 
and eternal ; there I have united with others in singing, 

' Welcome, sweet day of rest. 

That saw the Lord arise ; 
Welcome to this reviving- breast, 

And these rejoicing eyes ! 

The King himself comes near, 

And feasts his saints to-day ; 
Here we may sit, and see him here, 

And love, and praise, and pray. 

One day amidst the place 

Where my dear Lord hath been, 
Is sweeter than ten thousand days 

Of pleasm-able sin. 

My willing soul would stay 

In such a frame as this, 
And sit and sing herself aAvay 

To everlasting bliss.' 

" But now I am forbidden to partake of these sublime 
enjoyments. I am a solitary pilgrim in my own chamber. 
But I am not alone. The Lord of the Sabbath is here. 
Delightful thought ! Consolatory fact ! His presence is not 
confined to the temple ! His attention is not limited to the 
great congregation. He dwells in every house, in every 
closet, in every heart. He hears every domestic address, 



A SABBATH AT HOME. 3 

every secret prayer, every silent meditation of him. He 
can bless me, and make this Sabbath at home more profit- 
able than any one I have ever spent within the courts of his 
house." 

There is no reading which has such a powerful effect on 
the mind of a Christian, as the reading of the Scriptures. 
Indited by Him to whom all hearts are known, and all events 
foreknown, they suit mankind in all situations, grateful as 
the manna which descended from above, and conformed itself 
to every palate. The fairest productions of human wit, after 
a few perusals, like gathered flowers, wither in our hands, 
and lose their fragrance ; but these unfading plants of para- 
dise become, as vre are accustomed to them, still more and 
more beautiful ; their bloom appears to be daily heightened ; 
fresh odors are emitted, and new sweets extracted from 
them. He who hath once tasted their excellencies, will de- 
sire to taste them yet again ; and he who tastes them oftenest, 
will relish them best. But there is no portion of the sacred 
volume which I peruse with so much pleasure, in the sea- 
sons of retired devotion, as the Psalms of David. Though 
composed upon particular occasions, they are adapted for 
general use ; and while the imagination is delighted with 
the beauty of the style in which they are composed, the 
mind is elevated by the sentiments which they express, and 
refreshed by the inexplicable unction of piety which they 
distil. Bishop Home's commentary on the Eighty-Fourth 
Psalm afforded me much enjoyment, and I will now tran- 
scribe it, for the spiritual benefit of those of my readers 
who, like myself, may sometimes be compelled to spend a 
Sabbath at home. 

1. How amiable are thy tahernades, O Lord of hosts/ 
" Thus ardently doth a banished Israelite express his 
love for Zion, his admiration of the beauty of holiness. Nay, 
Balaam himself, when, from the top of Peor he saw the chil- 
dren of Israel in their tents, with the Glory in the midst of 
them, could not help exclaiming, ' How goodly are thy tents, 
O Jacob ! and thy tabernacles, O Israel !' Numbers 24 : 5. 



4 A SABBATH AT HOME. 

How amiable, then, (may the Christian say,) are those eter- 
nal mansions, from which sin and sorrow are excluded ; 
how goodly that camp of the saints, and that beloved city, 
where righteousness and joy reign triumphant, and peace 
and unity are violated no more ; where thou, O blessed Jesus, 
Lord of hosts, King of men and angels, dwellest in glorious 
majesty, constituting by thy presence the felicity of thy 
chosen." 

2. My soul longeth, yea, evenfaintethfor the courts of the 
Lord : my heart and my jiesh crieth out for the I'ving God. 

" It is said of the Queen of Sheba, that upon beholding 
the pleasantness of Jerusalem, the splendor of Solomon's 
court, and above all, the magnificence of the temple, with 
the services therein performed, ' there was no more spirit in 
her.' What wonder, therefore, if the soul should be deeply 
affected, while from this land of her captivity she beholdeth, 
by faith, the heavenly Jerusalem, the city and court of the 
great King, with all the transporting glories of the church 
triumphant ; while in her meditations she draweth the com- 
parison between her wretched state of exile upon earth, and 
the unspeakable blessedness of being delivered from temp- 
tation and affliction, and admitted into the everlasting ' courts 
of Jehovah.' Whose heart doth not exult and shout aloud 
for joy, at the prospect of rising from the bed of death, to 
dwell with the living God, to see the face of him ' in whom 
is life, and the life is the light of men?' Did the Israelites, 
from all parts of Judea, go up, with the voice of jubilee, to 
keep a feast at Jerusalem ; and shall Christians grieve, when 
the time is come for them to ascend, and to celebrate an eter- 
nal festival in heaven ?" 

3. Yea, the sparroio hath found a house, and the sical- 
low a nest for lierself where she may lay her young, even 
thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God. 

" The Psalmist is generally supposed, in this verse, to 
lament his unhappiness, in being deprived of all access to 
the tabernacle — a privilege enjoyed even by the birds, who 
were allowed to build their nests in the neighborhood of the 



A SABBATH AT HOME. 5 

sanctuary. It is evidently the design of this passage to in- 
timate to us, that in the house, and at the altar of God, a 
faithful soul findeth freedom from care and sorrow, quiet of 
mind, and gladness of spirit, like a bird that has secured a 
little mansion for the reception and rearing of her young. 
And there is no heart endued with sensibility, which doth 
not bear its testimony to the exquisite beauty and propriety 
of this affecting image." 

4. Blessed are they that dwell in tliy house : they will be 
still praising thee. Selah. 

" Here the metaphor is dropped, and the former senti- 
ment expressed in plain language. ' Blessed are,' not the 
mighty and the opulent of the earth, who are clothed in pur- 
ple, and fare sumptuously at the feast of convivial mirth, but 
' they that dwell in thy house,' the ministers of the eternal 
temple in heaven, the angels, and the spirits of just men made 
perfect ; there every passion is resolved into love, every duty 
into praise, hallelujah succeeds hallelujah ; they are still, 
still for ever praising thee. And blessed, next to them, are 
those ministers and members of the church here below, who, 
in disposition as well as in employment, do most resemHe 
them." 

5. Blessed is the man whose strength is in thee, in whose 
heart are the ways of them, 

6. Who passing through the valley of Baca, make it a 
well: the rain also flic th the pools. 

7. They go from strength to strength, every one of them 
in Zio7i appear eth before God. 

" Not only they are pronounced blessed who dwell in 
the temple, but all they also who are travelling thitherward, 
and who are, therefore, meditating on their journey, and on 
the ' way ' which leadeth to the holy city, trusting in God 
to ' strengthen,' and prosper, and conduct them to the house 
of his habitation, the place where his glory dwelleth. Such 
a company of sojourners are Christians going up to the 
heavenly Jerusalem : such ought to be their trust in God, 
and such the subject of their thoughts." 

VOL- L 18* 



6 A SABBATH AT HOME. 

" After numberless conjectures offered by commentators 
upon the construction of these verses, it seems impossible for 
us to attain to any other than a general idea of their import, 
which is this : that the Israelites, or some of them, passed, in 
their way to Jerusalem, through a valley that had the name 
of ' Baca,' a noun derived from a verb, which signifies, to 
' weep;' that in this valley they were refreshed with plenty 
of water ; that with renewed vigor they proceeded from stage 
to stage, until they presented themselves before God in Zion. 
The present world is to us the valley of weeping : in our 
passage through it we are refreshed by the streams of divine 
grace flowing down from the great fountain of consolation ; 
and thus we are enabled to proceed from one degree of ho- 
liness to another, until we come to the glorified vision of God, 
in heaven itself." 

8. O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer : give ear, O 
God of Jacoi. Selah. 

9. Behold, O God, our shield, and look upon the face 
of thine Anointed. 

" After extolling the happiness of those who dwelt in the 
temple, and of those who had access to it, the Psalmist breaks 
forth into a most ardent prayer to God, for a share in that 
happiness. He addresseth him as ' the Lord of hosts,' Al- 
mighty in power ; as ' the God of Jacob,' infinite in mercy 
and goodness to his people ; as their ' shield,' the object of 
all their trust for defence and protection ; and beseecheth 
him to look upon the face of his ' Anointed ;' that is, of the 
Messiah, in whom God is always well-pleased ; for whose 
sake he hath mercy upon us, through whose name and mer- 
its our prayers are accepted, and the kingdom of heaven is 
' opened to all believers.' " 

10. For a day in thy courts is hetter than a thousand. I 
had rather he a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to 
dwell in the tents of wickedness. 

" One day spent in meditation and devotion, affordeth a 
pleasure far, far superior to that w^hich an age of worldly 
prosperity could give. Happier is the least and the lowest 



A SABBATH AT HOME. '- 

of the servants of Jesus, than the greatest and most exalted 
potentate that knoweth him not. And he is no proper judge 
of blessedness, who hesitates a moment to prefer the condi- 
tion of a penitent in the porch, to that of a sinner on a throne. 
If this be the case on earth, how much more in heaven ! Oh, 
come that one glorious day, when the sun shall never go 
down, nor any cloud obscure the lustre of his beams ; that 
day, when the temple of God shall be opened in heaven, and 
we shall be admitted to serve him for ever therein !"' 

1 1 . For the Lord God is a sun and shield : the Lord will 
give grace and glory ; no good thing will he withhold from 
thefji that walk uprightly. 

"Jesus Christ is our 'Lord,' and our 'God;' he is a 
* sun ' to enlighten and direct us in the way, and a ' shield,' 
to protect us against the enemies of our salvation : he will 
give ' grace ' to carry us on from ' strength to strength,' and 
' glory,' to crown us when we ' appear before him in Zion ;' 
he will ' withhold ' nothing that is good and profitable for us 
in the course of our journey, and will himself be our reward 
when we come to the end of it." 

12. O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in 
thee. 

" While, therefore, we are strangers and sojourners here 
below, far from that heavenly country where we would be, 
in whom should we trust to bring us to the holy city, the 
new Jerusalem, of which the Lord God, and the Lamb, are 
the temple, but in thee, O Saviour and Redeemer, who art 
the Head of every creature, the Captain of the armies of 
heaven and the earth, the Lord of hosts, and the King of 
glory: blessed, thrice blessed is the man that trusteth in 
thee." 

Though I am denied the privilege of paying my vows 
unto God, in the presence of his people, yet I may approach 
his footstool, and pray to him in secret. 

" Be pleased to bless me, O my Father, with the manifes- 
tations of thy favor, which is life ; and thy loving kindness, 
which is better than life. While I mourn the loss of my 



8 A SABBATH AT HOME. 

Sabbath privileges, keep me from repining. I would remem- 
ber that gratitude becomes me more than complaint. My 
afflictions are light, when compared with those which pressed 
down the spirit of my Lord, as he bare my sins in his own 
body on the tree ; and few when compared with the afflic- 
tions of others. Many of the excellent of the earth are now 
suffering more agonizing pain than I feel, are now wanting 
many of the comforts which I enjoy. ' Bless the Lord, O 
my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. 
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits ; 
who forgiveth all thine iniquities ; who healeth all thy dis- 
eases ; who redeemeth thy life from destruction ; who crown- 
eth thee with loving kindness and tender mercies.' 

" If it should please thee, O Lord, to continue this afflic- 
tion, and thus deprive me, for many succeeding Sabbaths, 
of the benefit which I have received from the public means 
of grace, give me a spirit of entire submission to thy right- 
eous will, and favor me with thy gracious presence. If in 
this place I am to suffer tribulation, in thee may I have 
peace. And while I am taught that all my comforts depend 
on thee, may I find that thou art employing even this afflic- 
tion as the means of making me more sensible of their value. 
I now beseech thee to remove it ; to restore me to health — 
to permit me once more to tread thy earthly courts, and to 
worship thee in the congregation of the saints ; but if thou 
dost otherwise determine, may thy grace be sufficient for 
me, may thy strength be made perfect in my weakness. 
May I be enabled better to suffer all thy will, than I have 
ever done thy will in the days of health and activily. All I 
implore is through the mediation of Him who bore the sins 
of many, and made intercession for the transgressors ; to 
whom, with the Father, and the Holy Spirit, be endless 
praises. Amen." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



No. 35. 



THE 



WIDOW'S SON 




Virtue, for ever frail as fair, below, 
Her tender nature suffers in the crowd ; 

Nor touches on the world without a stain : 
The world's infectious ; few bring back at eve, 
Immaculate, the manners of the morn. 

Youso. 

George Lewellin, the son of a lonely widow, at the 
decease of his father was twelve years of age. He finished 
his education under the direction of his uncle ; and having 
attained his seventeenth year, he was placed in a merchant's 
counting-house in London. In his person he was tall and 
slender, prepossessing in his appearance and in his manners, 
unreserved in his disposition, of an amiable temper, and 



2 THE WIDOW'S SOX. 

disposed, from the ingenuous sincerity of his heart, to receive 
every one as his friend who courted his society. Soon after 
his entrance on his new scene of life, he received an affec- 
tionate letter from his pious mother, from which the following 
extracts are taken : 

" As, my dear George, you are now removed from un- 
der the immediate inspection of your friends, and will he 
exposed to a variety of temptations, permit me to urge upon 
you the importance of reading the Scriptures, of regularly 
attending some place of worship on the Sabbath, and of 
avoiding the society of all who are gay and dissipated in 
their manners. ' If sinners entice thee ' to the play-house, 
to card-parties, or to any places of public amusement, 
'consent thou not;' for if you once give way to their en- 
treaties, you will soon be overcome. I have had many 
trials. I have lost my property ; I have buried your lovely 
sister ; I have wept over the tomb of your pious father ; 
but to see you turning your back on religion, would bring 
' my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.' But I hope 
better things of you, though I thus write. Let me hear 
from you soon, and give me a faithful account of every 
event of your life ; and believe me to be yours, most affec- 
tionately," etc. 

The following letter, which he sent to his mother a few 
weeks after he had received hers, will give to the reader 
an accurate description of the state of his mind, and of his 
situation. 

" My dear Mother — I thank you for your kind letter. 
Yes, you have had many trials ; but I hope you have, at 
least, one comfort left. To promote your happiness will 



THE WIDOW'S SON. 3 

be, I trust, the constant effort of my life ; and as I know 
something of the value of prayer, I hope you will always 
have me in remembrance when at the throne of grace. I 

have a good set of rooms at a Mr. J n's, in the City 

Road. Mr. J. is a plain, pious man, and his wife appears 
very amiable. They have no children, but they talk of 
adopting me. I very much like the situation which my 
uncle has procured for me. There are in the office three 
clerks besides myself, but they are all my seniors. The 
oldest is married, and has a family. The next is the son 
of a member of the Society of Friends, but he has thrown 
off the plain garb, and often ridicules the simple mode of 
speech for which that denomination is distinguished. The 
other is the only child of a country esquire of a very large 
fortune. They treat me with the greatest kindness; and 
so does the gentleman in whose service I have the honor of 
being employed. My time is fully occupied ; and though 
business is new to me, yet I begin to find the difficulties 
attending it giving way. I will try to please, and I hope I 
shall be successful. As I know you feel more anxious 
about my spiritual than my temporal prosperity, I will give 
you an account of the manner in which I have spent my 
Sabbaths. I have heard some of the most celebrated preach- 
ers in London, but I have not yet determined where I shall 
regularly attend. Variety is charming, but I rather think 
that a stated ministry is the most profitable. I often think 
of you and your lovely retreat, and wish I could pop in upon 
you to receive the maternal blessing. 

"Yours, affectionately, George ."' 

As a material change soon took place in the principles 
and habits of young Lewellin, it may be proper to give a 



4 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

brief delineation of the character of those to whose influence 
it must be ascribed. The senior clerk in the office was an 
amiable man, but his mind was deeply tinctured by the 
deistical sentiments of the age. He would occasionally 
throw out some insinuations against professors ; but as he 
perceived it gave Lewellin pain, he was rather sparing in 
his remarks. Mr. Gordon, the next associate mentioned in 
Lewellin's letter, was less guarded ; and as he was a young 
man of a ready wit and polished manners, he became a dan- 
gerous companion. His respectability introduced him into 
the best society, and his principles fitted him for the worst. 
He had narrowly watched Lewellin; and though he per- 
ceived that he was under the control of religious impressions, 
yet he imagined that he could easily emancipate him. He 
proceeded very cautiously, because he was aware, that if he 
stormed his principles before he had undermined them, he 
should excite a powerful resistance. Having laid his plan 
of seduction, he began to execute it. As he was walking 
away from the office one evening, he very politely asked 
young Lewellin if he would spend an hour with him. His 
invitation was accepted. They enjoyed a tetea-tete con- 
versation together, during which Gordon displayed so much 
good nature, and such a rich vein of wit, that he gained an 
entire ascendency over his friend, who expressed a desire 
that the intimacy now formed might be perpetuated. The 
clock struck eleven, when Lewellin suddenly started from 
his chair, and took his hat and cane ; but he was detained 
two hours longer by the resistless charms of his companion. 
At length he retired ; and as he passed down Fleet-street, 
his conscience began to smite him. " What would my dear 
moxher feel, if she knew where I am at this hour!" But, 
having resolved that he would never again be guilty of such 



THE WIDOW'S SOX. 5 

an act of imprudence, he silenced his faithful monitor : " He 
is a charming man ! What an extensive knowledge of the 
world he has ! What a fund of anecdote ; and how well he 
narrates and describes ! A new scene is opening before 
me." Thus he talked to himself, till he reached his lodg- 
ings, where he found the family very much alarmed. " Dear 

sir," said Mrs. J , as soon as the passage door was 

opened, " we are very glad to see you. We were fearful 
that you had lost yourself, or that some greater evil had 
befallen you." "I am sorry," replied Lewellin, '-'that I 
have kept you up so late ; but Mr. Gordon pressed me to 
spend the evening with him, and the time slipped by before 

we were aware." " Well, sir," said Mr. J , " I am 

glad to see you home ; and as we have been expecting you 
every minute for the last three hours, we have not yet been 
to family prayer." The good man knelt down, and prayed 
most affectionately for his young friend, who stood exposed 
to so many temptations. 

The next day he went to the office as usual, but nothing 
of a particular nature occurred till the evening, when 
Gordon asked him if he would accept the loan of a book, 
which he had no doubt would amuse him. He took it, 
and hastened home to peruse it. Immediately after he 
had taken tea he retired to his own room. He opened the 
volume, read the title-page, threw it on the table, and ex- 
claimed, " No ; I'll not read it. I gave my word of honor 
to my dear mother that I would never read a novel, and I 
will not sacrifice my honor to please any friend." He 
paced backwards and forwards the room for some time, 
reflecting on the past evening, till the thoughts of his heart 
troubled him, when he seated himself in the arm-chair 
which was standing near the table. As the book was 



5 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

elegantly bound, he took it up and examined the workman- 
ship ; he then read the whole of the title-page ; then the 
preface; and as he found nothing very objectionable, he 
read on, till he heard a knock at the door. " Who is 
there?" "Will you come down to supper, sir?" He 
took out his watch, and found that he had been reading two 
hours, and as it was the first novel he ever read, it had so 
deeply fixed his attention, that he had nearly finished it 
before he felt conscious of what be wa's doing. " Yes, yes, 
I'll come presently ; but don't wait. Let me see, there are 
only thirty more pages ; I'll finish it." He read on, but 
the charm was broken by a recollection of his vow ; and he 
again threw the book from him, exclaiming, " Fascinating 
wretch, thou hast beguiled me of mine honor !" He hasten- 
ed out of the room, that he might avoid the reflections of 
his own mind ; and when he entered the parlor he found an 
interesting young man, of whom he had often heard Mr. 
J speak. He was intelligent and pious, highly ac- 
complished in his manners, and just on the eve of being 
married. After supper he engaged in family prayer ; and 
as he offered up his devout thanksgivings to the God of all 
grace, for preserving him from the path of the destroyer, 
and guiding his feet in the way of peace, he made a natural 
transition to the situation of Lewellin, and most fervently 
prayed that he might be enabled to escape the pollution of 
the world, and consecrate himself to the service of the God 
of his fathers. Lewellin endeavored to conceal his feelings, 
but the recollection of his having that night sacrificed his 
honor, threw such a melancholy air over his countenance, 

that Mrs. J , who felt the most lively interest in his 

welfare, abruptly asked him if he was not indisposed. The 
question perplexed him ; but assuming his ordinary cheer- 



THE WIDOW'S SON. ^ 

fulness, he replied, " No, madam." He sat a little longer, 
when he took leave of the company, and retired to rest. 
There he saw the fatal book ; but as he stood musing, he 
said, "Well, I don't know that I have received any moral 
injury from the book, and perhaps my mother did wrong to 
press me to give her such a pledge." 

On the next Sabbath Mr. Gordon called on him in the 
afternoon, and asked him to accompany him to the Lock, 
where he was going to hear a celebrated preacher. He 
took an early cup of tea with his friend, and they left 
together. As they were passing through St. James's Park, 
who should they meet but Mr. Phillips, (the other clerk in 
the office,) in company with three ladies. The interview 
appeared accidental ; and as Mr. Phillips pressed his friends 
to do him and the ladies the honor of their company, polite- 
ness induced a compliance, and the whole party took an 
excursion on the water. They did not return till late ; and 
it was past twelve before Lewellin reached his lodgings. 
As soon as he entered the parlor he made an apology for 
being so late ; and to avoid being embarrassed by any 
questions, he took his candle, and retired to his own room. 
He sat himself down ; but the sight of the Bible, which lay 
on the table, roused his feelings, and he began to reproach 
himself in the bitterest terms. " Yes, a new scene is open- 
ing before me ; but what a scene ! No, I will break the 
charm before I am completely enslaved ! My mother does 

not know it. But the eye of God 1 cannot conceal 

myself from him. Woe is me. I am lost. I am undone. 
No. I will repent. I will ask for mercy." He threw 
himself on his bed, but he could not sleep. He was scared 
by the visions of the night, and when the light of the morn- 
ing dawned, it brought no tidings of peace. At length he 



8 THE WIDOWS SON. 

arose, and went to the office, where he met his companions 
in guilt, but his mind was too much depressed to allow him 
to be cheerful, and the references which were made to the 
excursion of the preceding evening aggravated his misery. 
When the business of the day was closed, he walked away 
in silent sadness ; but he had not gone far, before Gordon 
overtook him, and invited him to take some refreshment in a 
coffee-house. He strongly objected, and then consented. 
" I perceive," said Gordon, " that you are unhappy, and I 
guess the cause. You suffer your noble mind to be tortured 
by the tales of the nursery. Treat them with contempt." 
" No," said Lewellin, " I am not tortured by the tales of the 
nursery, but by the reflections of a guilty conscience." 
" Conscience !" said Gordon, smiling ; " I had such a thing 
once, but as it stood in the way of my peace, I got rid of it, 
and now I am happy. And I assure you, that you will 
never be fitted to enjoy life, till you form juster notions of 
the Deity than religion inspires, and open your heart to 
those sublime enjoyments which the society and amuse- 
ments of this far-famed city afford. Come, give way to the 
impulse of your generous nature, and accompany me this 
evening." " Where '?" " Where you shall have a mental 
feast." Lewellin, expecting that Mr. Gordon was going to 
a Philosophical Society, of which he was a member, gave 
his consent ; nor was he undeceived, till he found himself 
seated in a box at Drury Lane Theatre. His conscience 
smote him ; but as he had been decoyed there, the faithful 
reprover was soon silenced, the curtain was drawn, and the 
stage exhibited a scene which was not only new, but cap- 
tivating. When the play was over, Gordon said, " I have 
watched your countenance during the whole of the tragedy, 
and I perceive that you have an instinctive taste for the 



THE WIDOW'S SOX. 9 

drama. Yes, Lewellin, this is the school to exalt the genius 
and amend the heart. Here our manners are polished, our 
taste is refined, and those moral sentiments are inculcated, 
which make the man the gentleman J^ 

They now retired to a hotel, where they ordered a 
supper, and as they sat conversing together till a very late 
hour, they decided on sleeping there. The line was now 
passed ; and Lewellin, having tasted of the forbidden fruit, 
resolved to rid himself of his puritanical notions, (as he began 
to term his religious sentiments,) that he might enjoy life. 
The first step which he took, was to write a letter to his kind 

friend Mr. J-^ n, to say, that circumstances rendered it 

inconvenient for him to reside so far from the office, and 
therefore he was under the painful necessity of taking 
another set of rooms ; — he added, " I will call and settle with 
you, and I will thank you to send my dressing-case, etc., by 
the bearer." He then told his friend Mr. Gordon what he 
had done, who congratulated him on his courage, and assured 
him that he was welcome to an accommodation in his apart- 
ments until he could suit himself better. The seducer had 
now got his victim in his own power, and he hurried him 
through the various stages of vice with almost breathless 
impetuosity. The theatre, the billiard-room, the house of 
ill-fame, were alternately visited, and he, who a few months 
before was horror-struck at the sight of a novel, could now 
occupy the seat of a scorner. But he was not suffered to 
remain there undisturbed. Conscience would sometimes 
inflict the most poignant wounds. The thought of home, of 
his pious father and sister, of the day of judgment, drove him 
at times almost frantic ; when, after pronouncing a secret 
curse on his companion, he would plunge himself deeper in 
iniquity, that he might gain a momentary relief. To follow 



10 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

him through the course of impiety which he ran for the space 
of two years, during which time he involved himself in debt, 
and contracted many diseases, would afford the reader no 
gratification. Disease, which had been for some time 
destroying his constitution, now incapacitated him for public 
business, and he was obliged to keep to his apartments, 
which were near those of Mr. Gordon. For several days 
after his confinement, he received no attention from his 
friend, which left his mind more disposed to take " the black 
review." 

He reproached himself; he reproached the destroyer of 
his peace ; he wept, but he could not pray. He wrote a 
letter to his pious mother, but he burnt it ; he wrote another, 

and burnt it. He wrote to his friend Mr. J , whom he 

had not seen since he left his house, and just as he was 
directing it, the servant announced Mr. Gordon. " Well, 
George, how are you ?" " 111, sir, and you are the cause 
of it." "I the cause of it!" "Yes, sir, you enticed me 
firom the paths of virtue into the paths of vice, and though I 
reproach myself for my folly in surrendering myself to your 
entreaties, yet, sir, you are the seducer." " Ah, George, you 
are got back to the tales of the nursery. Come, come, pluck 
up your spirits. You will soon get better. What does the 
doctor say ? I was at Drury last night, and never had a 
finer treat." " The doctor gives me but little hope, and 
your present conversation gives me less pleasure. If I die, 
I must appear before my Judge, and am I (wringing his 
hands) prepared? No." " Well, then, I will be off; but 
don't play the fool ; die like a man. Phillips says he'll call 
to see you to-morrow, but I suppose a visit from some of the 
godly will be more acceptable." " I want a visit from some 
one who can administer to a mind diseased." . 



THE WIDOW'S SON. n 

He was now left alone, irresolute — alarmed. He rings. 
" Put that letter in the post immediately." He is more com- 
posed. Mr. J called on him the next morning, but 

could not refrain from weeping when he saw him. Lewel- 
lin cautiously concealed from him the cause of his illness, 
but informed him that the doctor gave but little hope of his 
life. " Does your dear mother know how you are ?" " No, 
sir, I do not like to alarm her, but if I do not get better in a 
few days, I think I shall endeavor to go down and see her, 
and if I must die, I hope to die in hen.' arms." " I have 
called several times at your office since you left my house, 
but you were either engaged, or not within, and I have 
often wondered why you never called to see us. We have 
always had you in remembrance at the throne of grace." 
" Ah, sir," replied Lewellin, " if I had never left your 
house, I should never have been reduced to that state of 
wretchedness and woe in which you now see me. I was 

seduced by a worthless' companion, and now (He 

made a long pause.) I have cut short my life ; I have 
ruined my soul ; I shall break my mother's heart. O eter- 
nity ! how I dread thee !" The tender feelings of Mr. 
J were so strongly excited by the looks and the expres- 
sions of Lewellin, that he could make no reply for several 
minutes. At length he said, " But the chief of sinners may 
obtain mercy." " Yes, sir, I know that the chief of sinners 
may obtain mercy, if they repent and believe ; but I cannot 
do either. I hear a voice issuing from the celestial glory, 
' Because I have called and ye refused ; I have stretched 
out my hand, and no man regarded ; I also will laugh at 
your calamity : I will mock when your fear cometh ; when 
your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh 
as a whirlwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon 



12 THE WIDOW'S SOX. 

you. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; 
they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me.' Prov. 
1 : 24, 26-28. I have fitted myself for desti'uction, and now 
I must prepare to go where the worm dieth not, and where 
the fire will never be quenched." "Do not despair of 
mercy." "Yes, sir, I must. Despair gives me more relief 
than hope." " Shall I pray with you ?" " It is too late." 
"Consent." "Then pray for my dear mother; pray that 
her mind may be prepared for the tremendous news which 
will soon reach her ears. I have deceived her." 

]Mr. J knelt down and prayed, but his importunity 

merely served to invest the pang of despair with an addi- 
tional degree of terror. " All is useless, sir ; 

' The help of men and angels joined 
Can never reach my case.'" 

" That's true, my young friend, but " " Pardon 

me, sir, for interrupting you, but I dare not ask for mercy. 
Justice demands a victim, and I must die." "But mercy 
pleads." "Yes, sir, but she will itever plead for me." 
" Do try to pray." " No, sir, I am not disposed to offer a 
fresh insult to God. He has rejected me. 

' Contrition cannot crime remove ; 
Should I implore his pity, then, 
The soft compassion of his love 
Would still condemn.'" 

"But the blood of the covenant can remove crime." 
" That blood I have trampled beneath my feet. I know 

my doom." Mr. J now left him, but called again the 

next evening, when he found him rather better, and more 
composed, and was gratified to hear that he had written the 
following letter to his mother : 



THE WIDOW'S SON. jo 

" Dear Mother — I am sorry to inform you that I am 
rather indisposed, and that I am obliged to leave London for 
a change of air. You may, therefore, expect to see me in 
the course of a few days. O pray for me, for the hand of 
God has touched me. I shall come by the mail which will 
pass through your village about eleven in the morning. 
" Yours, affectionately, George." 

He left London a few days after he had communicated 
the state of his health to his mother, and reached home the 
following morning. She saw him as he was opening the 
little wicket-gate in the froni of her house ; she sprang up, 
arid ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. The inter- 
view was affecting ; and it was some minutes before either 
of them could speak. On raising her eyes to survey the 
lovely form of her only son, now emaciated by disease, she 
could not refrain from exclaiming, as she pressed him still 
closer to her warm, yet agonized bosom, "Oh, George, 
what's the matter ? How long have you been ill ? Why 
did you conceal your illness from me ?" " Be composed, 
mother ; I am better ; and I have no doubt but relaxation 
from business, and the fresh air of the country, will be the 
means of bringing me about again. The porter is waiting 
with my luggage ; I will thank you to satisfy him for his 
trouble, as I have no change." 

During the first week after his arrival, he began to 
mend, and all indulged the hope of his speedy restoration ; 
but his disease had taken too deep root in his constitution to 
be suddenly eradicated ; and within the space of a fortnight 
his fever returned with increasing violence, setting at defi- 
ance the skill of the physician, who confessed that his life 
was in the most imminent danger. He now took to his bed, 

VOL. I. 20 



14 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

and said to a young friend who called to see him, " I shall 
never leave this room till I am carried out by the ministers 
of death." On the following Sabbath his dear mother 
ventured to ask him how he felt in prospect of death. This 
question deeply agitated his feelings ; he became restless ; a 
sullen gloom was thrown over his countenance ; he remained 
silent. This silence inflicted a deeper wound in her tender 
bosom than the most piercing cries of mental anguish ; and 
though she endeavored to conceal her grief, yet she was un- 
able. " Oh, George, do tell me. When I lost your father, 
1 had the consolation of knowing that he was gone to heav- 
en; and your dear departed siater said, just before she left 
me, ' Weep not for me ; for I shall soon see the King in his 
beauty ;' and will you die without allowing me to indulge the 
hope of meeting you in heaven ?" " My dear mother, I have 
deceived you once, but the staff of deception is now broken ; 
I have ' trampled under foot the blood of the covenant,' and 
that blood is now crying for vengeance against me. I know 
my doom ; and, however painful it may be to your feelings 
to stand at the dreadful post of observation, and see your 
own child lingering out the few remaining days of his life, 

'Without one cheerful beam of hope, 
Or spark of glimm'ring day : ' 

yet I do request, that you will not imbitter my last hours by 
making any allusions to the Redeemer." " Oh, George !" 
"Oh, mother, I am undone! Mercy followed me; mercy 
pleaded with me ; and 

< * * * * injured Mercy will appear ; 
Nor I her charges can disown. 
Ah me, than justice more severe 
******* is Mercv'f? frown.'" 



THE WIDOW'S SON. 25 

As his mind was in such a perturbed state, Mrs. L. 
thought it prudent to turn the current of conversation ; and 
after listening to a detailed account of his life, she retired to 
try the efficacy of prayer. In the evening a pious young 
friend called to see him, to whom he said, " I will thank you 
to remove that Bible out of my sight, for its very presence 
affects me. Such a book ought not to lie near such a wretch. 
It is like compelling the criminal to ride on his own coffin 
to the place of execution."' " But, my dear sir, that book 
contains a revelation of mercy and grace to sinners, and 
offers salvation to the chief." " I know it, and therefore I 
wish it to be removed ; for I have turned the grace of God 
into lasciviousness, and made sport with the revelation of 
mercy." " But the Lord waits to be gracious." " No ; he 
is now laughing at my calamity ; and soon the curtain of 
life will drop, and his injured justice will be glorified in my 
condemnation. Give me a draught of water." He drank 
the whole in haste ; and on giving back the cup, said, " It 
would afford me some relief if I could hope to find a spring 
of water in hell. But, no ; not one drop to cool my parched 
tongue !" '■' Oh, George, do not put from you the words of 
peace." " I know my doom ; and if you w^ish me to have 
a moment's calm while the respite lasts, talk of earth, of its 
joys, or of its sorrows ; but bring me not near the spot where 
Mercy died for man." 

The fever, which had remained stationary for several 
days, now raged with uncontrolled violence, without im- 
pairing the vigor of his intellect ; and all expected that a 
few hours would terminate his mortal career. His dear 
mother hung over him breathing the purest and most ardent 
affection ; but she was not permitted to give the consolations 
of religion ; which at length so overpowered her feelings 



16 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

that she could remain no longer, and was obliged to retire, 
leaving her only son the victim of despair. His eye follow- 
ed her as she passed through the room ; and when the door 
was closed, he burst into a flood of tears, exclaiming, " The 
doom that awaits me would be less terrible, if I could have 
concealed it from my mother. I have destroyed myself, and 
plunged the fatal dagger into her breast. Oh, thou holy, 
thou righteous God, thou art clear when thou judgest, and 
just when thou condemnest ! — Have pity on my dear mother, 
and support her mind under this most awful visitation of thy 
vengeance !" 

He now became more composed ; but on hearing the 
clock strike eleven, he started up in his bed, asked for a 
large draught of cold water, and expressed an ardent wish 
to see his mother once more, as he was apprehensive that 
life was just on the eve of departing. A female attendant 
went to call her, but she was asleep ; and she returned to 
ask him if she should awake her. After a long pause, he 
said, " No ; let her sleep on, and take her rest, and I will 
die alone, and spare her the agony of hearing the last 
tremendous groan which is to announce my entrance into 
hell." He then requested that another pillow might be 
placed under his head ; and turning himself on his left 
side, he laid himself down to expire. In about a quarter 
of an hour, his nurse, who was standing by his side, gent- 
ly whispered, "I think he is gone;" but on feeling his 
pulse, she soon ascertained that he was fallen into a pro- 
found sleep. He slept for several hours, during which 
time the fever left him ; and when he awoke, he said, with 
a firm tone, "The bitterness of death is passed." "Yes, 
my child," replied Mrs. Lewellin, "the Lord has an- 
swered my prayer by sparing your life ; and I have no 



THE WIDOW'S SON. X7 

doubt but he will answer my prayer, by sanctifying this 
affliction as the means of bringing you to repentance, and 
the enjoyment of his blissful presence." This appropri- 
ate remark produced a powerful effect, but he cautiously 
avoided making any reference to religion. His recovery 
was as rapid as his relapse had been dangerous, and though 
his strength was greatly impaired, yet he was able to 
leave his room the early part of the ensuing week. Be- 
ing now rescued from the brink of woe, and animated with 
the hope of returning health, as he sat alone musing over 
the awful scene through which he had so recently passed, 
he laid his hand on a hymn book, which was placed on 
the table, and the following verses struck him with pecu- 
liar force : 

When with my mind devoutly pressed, 
Dear Saviour, my revolving breast 

Would past offences trace ; 
Trembling, I make the black review, 
Yet pleased behold, admiring too, 

The power of changing grace. 

This tongue with blasphemies defiled, 
These feet in erring paths beguiled, 

In heavenly league agree. 
Who could believe such lips could praise. 
Or think my dark and winding ways 

Should ever lead to thee ? 

These eyes, that once abused their sight, 
Now lifl to tliee then- wat'ry light, 

And weep a silent flood ; 
These hands ascend in ceaseless prayer — 
O wash away the stains they wear, 

In pure redeeming blood. 



18 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

These ears, that pleased could entertain 
The midnight oath, tlie lustful strain, 

When round the festal board. 
Now, deaf to all th' enchanting noise. 
Avoid the tlu-ong, detest the joys. 

And press to hear thy word. 

Thus art tliou served in every part : 

O would'st thou more transform my heart. 

This drossy thing refine ; 
That grace might nature's strength control, 
And a new creature, body, soul, 

Be, Lord, for ever thine. 

.While reading these verses, the determination which he 
had formed, to live and die without hope, was shaken ; and 
when he had finished, he involuntarily exclaimed, " I also 
may feel the power of changing grace." The entrance of 
his mother into the parlor broke off the train of thought which 
he was pursuing ; but availing herself of the opportunity 
which the hymn book, still held in his hand, supplied, she 
said, " I hope, my dear George, as you are now able to visit 
your friends, that you will accompany me in the evening to 
chapel, where you will hear a most excellent minister." 
" I will go to oblige you, but I can anticipate no other 
pleasure." "But you may derive some profit — for there 
the Lord condescends to make the truth effectual to the 
salvation of them that believe." "But I cannot believe, 
and my heart is so hard that neither mercy nor judgment 
can make any impression !" " But faith, my dear child, 
comes by hearing ; and who can tell but this night you may 
feel the power of changing grace ?" 

After tea, Mrs. Lewellin and her son walked to the 
house of God in company ; and though there were no 
splendid decorations to allure the devotee of superstition, nor 



THE WIDOW'S SON. ^q 

any sculptured forms to attract the attention of the senti- 
mental worshipper, yet it was invested with unrivalled 
charms in her estimation, as the place where 

« * * * * the Father sits supreme, 
As King Eternal, to receive 
Petitions that his ser\-ants bring. 
The homage which his subjects give." 

The reading, the singing, and the prayer, accorded with 
the general tone of feeling which a select congregation 
usually discovers ; and though young Lewellin conducted 
himself with the greatest degree of decorum, yet it was not 
till after the text was announced that he appeared interested 
in the service. The preacher was a young man, of a correct 
taste, strong intellectual powers, bold and animated address ; 
but the subject which he had chosen for discussion was more 
adapted to establish the Christian in his faith, than reclaim 
the sinner. The text was taken from the 1st of Corinthians, 
6 : 17. He that is joined unto the Lord is one spirit. There 
were no flights of a lofty imagination in the composition of 
the discourse ; no powerful appeals to the conscience ; no 
master-strokes of argument levelled against either the root 
or branches of infidelity ; no terrific enunciations of the 
Divine displeasure ; but a calm, methodical, and spiritual 
amplification of the doctrine of our union with Jesus Christ. 
The service was concluded without having produced any 
visible effects on Lewellin, who walked away with his mother, 
and the only remark he made was, " I never heard such a 
sermon before." As she knew not how to interpret the 
meaning of this ambiguous expression, she thought it most 
prudent to make no reply, lest by coming into direct contact 
with his deistical opinions, she should be incapable of per- 
suading him to accompany her at a future time. On 



20 THE WIDOW'S SOX. 

entering the parlor, he took a candle and retired to his own 
room, which gave his mother an opportunity of imploring the 
blessing of heaven on the service of the evening. After 
waiting a considerable length of time, she began to feeL 
uneasy, and went to the bottom of the stairs to listen ; but 
on hearing the footsteps of her son as he paced backwards 
and forwards his chamber, she resumed her seat, and read 
the 15th chapter of the Gospel of Luke. An hour had now 
elapsed since she had seen liim. The sound of his steps was 
no longer heard ; her fears were strongly excited, and being 
unable to suppress them, she stole up softly to his door. 
She heard, or thought she heard, an indistinct sound : she 
then looked through the keyhole, and lo, he was on his 
knees in prayer I Had she seen visions of God, she might 
have been more awed, but she could not have been more 
delighted. She wept as she descended the stairs, but they 
were such tears as sorrow never sheds. Her heart was full, 
and she gave vent to her enraptured feeling at the footstool 
of His throne who had caused grace to abound where sin had 
been reigning nigh unto death. 

At supper he appeared very sedate — absorbed in deep 
thought ; yet there was a serenity in his countenance, and 
an ease in his manners, which bespoke the composure of 
his mind. 

" I hope, my dear George, you liked the sermon." " I 
never heard such a sermon : at least, I never heard a sermon 
which produced such an effect on my mind. T could have 
listened till midnight. I felt what I never felt before. I 
felt, I hope, the power of Divine grace. 

' Who could believe such lips could praise, 
Or think my dark and winding ways 
Should ever lead to thee ?'" 



THE WIDOW'S SOX. 21 

The change produced in the opinions, and taste, and 
habits of Lewellin, soon became conspicuous in the circle 
in which he moved ; and while it excited the ridicule of some, 
the gratitude of others, and the astonishment of all, it was as 
a witness raised from the dead, to give a fresh testimony to 
the divine origin of the truth which had been the means of 
effecting it. He who had been a bold blasphemer, now be- 
came a man of prayer ; the intoxicating cup was exchanged 
for the wine of the kingdom ; the Sabbath was hallowed as 
a day of rest ; and the amusements and dissipations of the 
world were forsaken for the more refined enjoyments of de- 
votion. 

As his health was nearly reestablished, he began to pre- 
pare for his return to his situation ; and though he started 
back with horror, in prospect of being compelled to associate 
with his former companions, yet he indulged the hope of be- 
ing able to reclaim them, by the force of reason and example, 
from the destructive paths of sin. He wrote to his friend 
Mr. J n, with whom he lodged when he first entered Lon- 
don, to inform him of the change which had taken place, and 
to request permission to become once more an inmate in his 
pious family. To this letter he received a very satisfactory 
reply ; and the following week was fixed on for his depar- 
ture. But he would not consent to leave the place where 
he had passed from death to life — from the miseries of one 
world, to the sublime anticipations of another — till he had 
borne a public testimony of his gratitude to the Redeemer, 
by professing his name before men. He waited on the faith- 
ful minister who had been employed as the angel of mercy 
to his soul, to express his desire ; and before his return to 
the city, he sat down with his honored parent at the Lord's 

table, when the following appropriate verses were sung : 
VOL. I. 20* 



22 THE WIDOW'S SOxX. 

O happy day, that fixed my choice 
On thee, my Saviour and my God : 

Well may this glowing heart rejoice. 
And tell its raptures all abroad. 

'Tis done, the great transaction's done, 
I am my Lord's, and he is mine ; 

He drew me, and I followed on. 

Charmed to confess the voice divine. 

High heaven, that heard the solemn vow, 
That vow renewed shall daily hear ; 

Till in life's latest hour I bow. 

And bless in death a bond so dear. 

He was expected at the office, on the morning of his 
return, as he had written to make the communication ; and 
when he entered, every one arose to offer his congratula- 
tions, but Mr. Gordon exceeded all in the ardor of his ex- 
pressions. " This," said he, " is one of the happiest days 
of my life, and I adore the fate which has decreed that death 
shall lose a victim, to restore me my friend." " I adore the 
mercy," replied Lewellin, " that has spared my life ; and I 
trust, my dear sir, that my friendship will be a purer flame 
than ever burned on the altar of my heart." This reply 
created a little embarrassment in Mr. Gordon's mind ; but 
he soon got over it, and resumed his accustomed vivacity of 
disposition and ease of manners. In the evening they walk- 
ed away together, when Mr. Lewellin informed his friend 
that a material change had taken place in his sentiments and 
his habits ; and that, if he wished for a renewal of their for- 
mer intimacy, it must be on the express condition of paying 
a most devout regard to the truths and institutions of revela- 
tion. " What, sir," said Gordon, " are you again enslaved 
in the trammels of superstition, and do you expect that I shall 



THE WIDOW'S SON. 23 

bow my neck to such an ignominious yoke ?" " What you 
deem the yoke of ignominy, I esteem the badge of honor ; 
what you deem a cunningly devised fable, I esteem truth. 
You won me over to your sentiments, and what have they 
done for me ? They impaired my health ; they tore up the 
foundation of a good constitution ; they plunged me into de- 
spair ; I lived a sceptic, but I found that I could not die one. 
I am now restored to health, to truth, to happiness, and it is 
my inflexible determination to consecrate myself to the honor 
of the Redeemer." " Ah, I pity you." " Pity is for objects 
of woe ; and had you seen me when the terrors of death 
fell on me, you might have pitied me ; but now, sir, I want 
not pity, for I have that 

' Which nothing earthly gives, nor can destroy, 
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy.' " 

" Then, sir, I suppose, in future, our office is to become 
the hotbed of fanaticism, where the rank weeds of an ancient 
superstition are to overshade the lovely plants of reason's 
golden age ?" " As I shall not obtrude my religious senti- 
ments on the attention of others, you may calculate on pass- 
ing through your professional duties without being annoyed, 
unless you step forward to attack them, and in that case I 
shall certainly stand up in their defence." " Well, well, 
that is all very fair. Then if I do not commence the assault, 
you will not open your battery." "It will be my aim to 
make myself agreeable, and to recommend my religion more 
by my example than by my arguments ; because I know 
how you will evade the one, but it is not certain that even 
you can withstand the other." " Ah, I see you resolve to 
play off upon me, in the same way in which I conquered 
you ; and I have no objection for the experiment to be tried, 



24 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

but it will not succeed." The bold and decided manner in 
which Mr. Lewellin met the sarcasms of infidelity, and 
avowed his supreme regard to the truth of revelation, cut 
off from his former companions all hopes of getting him again 
to join their ranks ; and they, as by mutual consent, abstain- 
ed from either pressing or enticing him to do it. He pur- 
sued the even tenor of his way, without much obstruction ; 
unfolding an amiability of temper, and a dignified integrity 
of principle, which gained him general respect ; and though 
some regretted the change, yet all acknowledged that it was 
beneficial. As his mind was deeply impressed hy the truth, 
he discovered no eager attachment to the peculiarities of hu- 
man opinion, and was able, from this circumstance, to guard 
religion against the obnoxious charges to which it is too often 
exposed by its injudicious friends. He was now introduced 
to the Rev. W. C , of whose church he became a mem- 
ber ; and such was the energy of mind which he threw into 
all his relative engagements, and such the unaffected humil- 
ity which adorned his character, that he rose to a high de- 
gree of eminence in the esteem of all his religious friends. 
As a Sunday-school teacher, as a visitor of the sick, as an 
agent of the Tract Society, he was equalled by few, and 
surpassed by none, and never appeared more delighted than 
when he had the prospect of promoting the spiritual welfare 
of those whom he once attempted to corrupt and destroy. It 
is now more than twelve years since the angels of light first 
beheld this moral transformation, and attuned their harps 
anew to the praise of Him by whose mysterious power it 
was produced ; and he who was the subject of it, is still liv- 
ing, to reflect its inimitable lustre, and demonstrate its super- 
human origin. 



No. 36. 

THE 



VILLAGE FUNERAL 



"Funerals in the country are solemnly impressive. The 
stroke of death makes a wide space in the village circle, and is 
an awful event in the tranquil uniformity of rural life. The pass- 
ing-bell tolls its knell in every ear ; it steals with its pervading 
melancholy over every hill and vale, and saddens all the land- 



Death is a solemn subject of meditation ; but it is one 
which presents stronger claims on our attention than any 
other, because we 7nust die. If to die were a mere cessa- 
tion of being ; if, when the mantle of mortality falls, we lay 
down in the tomb to rise no more ; if, when the intellect 
ceases to think, the passions ceased to glow, the active vir- 
tues ceased to display their moral beauty, and the human 
soul lived only in the recollection of surviving friends ; we 
would forbear to pass a heavy censure on the general indif- 
ference which is manifested towards this solemn theme. 
But has not the Sacred Volume revealed life and immortal- 
ity ? Do we not there read, that " the hour is coming, in 
the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, 
and shall come forth : they that have done good, unto the 
resurrection of life ; and they that have done evil, unto the 
resurrection of damnation ?" John 5 : 28, 29. 

Death spares neither age nor rank, talent nor piety. He, 
as the king of terrors, sways the sceptre of absolute author- 
ity over all the living ; none can elude his attack, nor resist 
his power. What a scene is presented to the fancy, where 
he has achieved a conquest ! The sparkling eye is become 
dim, the instructive lips are sealed in perpetual silence. 



2 THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 

The ear is deaf to the voice of friendship and the song of 
mirth ; and the tabernacle of bliss is changed into the house 
of mourning. The preparations which are necessary for 
the interment, keep the mind in a state of constant agitation ; 
but when these are all adjusted, and the mournful hour of 
departure is come, the passions usually burst forth, and pro- 
claim, amidst sobs, and tears, and groans, the sadness of the 
desolation. 

It was on a fine summer evening, as we sat conversing 
together on the immortality of the soul, and on that state 
of purity and of blessedness which the righteous will enjoy 
in the heavenly world, that we received intelligence of the 
approaching dissolution of Mrs. Allen. Mi's. Stevens ex- 
pressed a desire to go and see her once more before her 
decease ; and having accepted my offer to accompany her, 
the chaise was immediately got ready to convey us to her 
humble dwelling. 

I have often observed, in my intercourse with society, 
that the benevolent affections are not exclusively cherished 
by any individual class of its members, but glow in the 
breasts of all ; yet they are invariably most delicate, when 
refined by the hallowed fire of devotional sentiment and 
feeling. On some occasions we see, in the walks of hum- 
ble life, even where religion has not distilled her sweetest 
influences, the tributary tear paid to departing worth ; yet 
in general there is a degree of insensibility which excites 
astonishment, if not disgust. But as we entered this lonely 
retreat, we felt conscious that we were in the house of 
mourning. The husband, who had just returned from his 
hard day's labor, sat in the window-seat, with his frugal 
repast at his side, untouched ; his hand, spanning his fore- 
head, concealed his eyes, as his little boy stood near him, 
pensive and sad. No voice spoke, no, noise was heard, nor 
did our entrance disturb the mourner in his musings of 
grief. We felt a momentary tremor, under an apprehen- 
sion that death had come, and borne off his captive. At 



THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 3 

length Mrs. Stevens said, " Well, Robert, is your wife still 
in the body, or in glory ?" He started from a deep pen- 
siveness, and as the silent tear fell on his sun-burned fkce, 
he replied, " She is still with us ; but she will soon be gone. 
She has been discoursing much about you, ma'am, all day ; 
and it will give her pleasure to see you again before she 
enters the joy of her Lord." 

We walked up stairs, and as we drew near, she ex- 
pressed great delight at seeing us. She sat up in her bed, 
being supported by pillows ; her face glowed with the hec- 
tic flush ; her eyes shone with radiant brightness ; her voice 
was clear, though not strong ; and her mind soon discovered 
all its native sprightliness and vigor. " Here I am," she 
observed, "in the last stage of decline, and I am hourly ex- 
pecting a change. Disease has nearly consumed my body, 
before death comes to feed on it ; but as my outward man 
perisheth, blessed be God, my inward man is renewed day 
by day. I have passed through deep waters since I saw 
you, but they have not been permitted to overflow me ; for, 
when the enemy came in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord 
lifted up a standard against him. The contest is nearly 
over ; the prize of my high calling is in view ; Jesus the 
Mediator will soon, very soon, present me faultless before 
the presence of the Divine glory with exceeding joy. Oh ! 
He is a faithful as well as a merciful High Priest." 

" I am happy," replied Mrs. Stevens, " to find you in 
such a delightful frame. You have borne a living testimony 
to the truth of religion, and now you can bear a dying tes- 
timony to its excellence." 

" My living testimony," said she, " has been but feeble; 
it has not spoke out in such decisive tones as it ought to have 
done ; I dare not think of it, but with regret, with self-loath- 
ing. I have been an unprofitable servant, a treacherous 
disciple, a disobedient child ; but I look for redemption, and 
for acceptance, to Jesus the Mediator, whose blood cleanseth 
from all sin." 



4 THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 

" But it must give you pleasure," Mrs. Stevens remark- 
ed, " to look back, and see the fruit of your religious prin- 
ciples, though that fruit may not have been so rich as you 
could have wished." 

" It gives me pleasure," said the dying saint, " to believe 
that I have been kept from falling, and that I shall soon be 
permitted to express my ardent gratitude in the immediate 
presence of my Lord, but I can derive no satisfaction from 
a review of my own conduct. I am a sinner saved by 
grace." 

" You are now," I observed, " near the end of your 
course, and I suppose you would not willingly recommence 
your pilgrimage on earth." 

" I would, sir, cheerfully, if my Lord were to command 
me, but not otherwise. I long to be with him. To give up 
my dear husband and child occasioned a hard contest ; but 
I have been enabled to do it ; I am going home, and my 
Father is waiting to receive me." 

After having committed her departing spirit to the Lord 
Jesus, and prayed for her husband and her child, who were 
just on the eve of being deprived of their richest earthly 
treasure, we left her, and returned to the villa, where the 
news of her decease reached us within the space of an hour. 
After we left, she spoke but seldom ; she lay with her eyes 
closed, but from the occasional motion of her lips it was evi- 
dent that she was much engaged in prayer ; at length she 
said, " I feel a change which I cannot describe — is this death ? 
Oh, how easy ! The king of terrors is transformed into an 
angel of deliverance. I shall soon see the King, the Lord 
of hosts, in his beauty. I am entering the valley, but there 
is no darkness. I see the shadow of death, but feel not the 
sting." After a short pause, during which her spirit seemed 
to be gathering strength for its final departure, she embraced 
her husband and her child for the last time; and having 
solemnly commended them to God, she reclined her head on 
the pillow, and expired. " Precious in the sight of the Lord 



THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 5 

is the death of his saints;" and their decease is often pre- 
cious in the sight of men. They are usually composed, and 
sometimes in raptures; and such is the effect which their 
joyful anticipations are known to produce on the minds of 
spectators, that even those who contemn their religious prin- 
ciples, have retired from their presence, saying, " Let us 
die the death of the righteous, and may our last end be like 
theirs." 

The ancient custom of burying the dead in the evening, 
is still observed in some parts of the country ; and this cus- 
tom prevailed in the village of . I left the villa with 

Mr. Stevens and Mr. L about five o'clock ; and just as 

we reached the cottage the corpse was brought and placed 
on two stools, which stood in the centre walk of the garden. 
It was deposited in a neat oak coffin, which bore the name 
and the age of the deceased. When the preparations were 
completed, the procession moved in the following order : A 
band of singers preceded, then the bearers two and two, car- 
rying the coffin in their hands, one little boy walking on 
each side with a stool, to afford an occasional resting ; the 
widowed husband and the surviving youth, attired in black, 
were the chief mourners ; a few relations and a few poor 
friends walked behind them ; and many of the inhabitants of 
the village attended as spectatoi-s. As the bier entered the 
vale which winds round the hill that divides the two parishes, 
the singers sang the following hymn : 

" Hear what the voice from heaven proclaims 
For all the pious dead ; 
Sweet is the savor of their names, 
And sofl their sleeping bed. 

They die in Jesus, and are blessed ; 

How kind their slumbers are ! 
From suff 'rings and from sins released, 

And freed from every snare. 



THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 



They're present witli the Lord ; 
The labors of their mortal life 
End in a large reward." 

The effect was solemn and delightful. Echoes, which 
had slept for ages, awoke and tuned their responding voices 
to the melody of death. The bier stood still as soon as the 
hymn was sung, that the bearers might rest from their la- 
bors ; when the thrush and the nightingale, roused from 
their silence by the music of the valley, intermingled their 
enchanting notes, as though anxious to perpetuate the song. 
The number of spectators increased as we advanced ; all 
were serious, some wept ; and when we turned into the lane 
which led up to the graveyard, the venerable Mr. Ingleby 
headed the procession. Another hymn was now sung in 
accents more bold, but equally melodious with the former. 

" O, for an overcoming faith, 
To cheer my dying hours, 
To triumph o'er the monster Death, 
And all his frightful powers ! 

Joyful, with all the strength I have, 

My quiv'ring lips should sing, 
' Where is tliy boasted vict'ry, grave ? 

And where the monster's sting ?' 

If sin be pardoned, I'm secure ; 

Death hath no sting beside : 
The law gives sin its damning pow'r ; 

But Christ, my Ransom, died. 

Now, to the God of victory 

Immortal thanks be paid. 
Who makes us conquerors while we die, 

Through Christ our living Head." 

The corpse, when taken into the church, was placed in 
the middle aisle ; and after the appropriate portions of Scrip- 



THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 7 

ture were read, it was carried out to the place of sepulture ; 
where, after the burial-service was performed, it was de- 
posited till the morning of the resurrection. When Robert 
and his little bereaved boy looked down into the grave which 
had just received the remains of her whom they tenderly 
loved, they wept ; and returned to their house of mourning, 
dejected, yet animated by a hope of a reunion in the celestial 
world. 

The solemnity of the funeral made a deep impression on 
my mind. I stole away from the crowd, which was press- 
ing round the grave to take the last look of the coffin, that I 
might indulge my musings in retirement. Death was the 
theme of my meditation. Humiliating theme ! How cal- 
culated to bring down the lofty spirit of pride ; to extinguish 
the flame of ambition ; to hush the contentions of discord ! 

A chilling horror came over my spirit as I anticipated 
my own decease. The lengthened sickness; the parting 
tear • the final farewell ; the unknown pains of dying ; the 
solemn anticipations of an immediate entrance into another 
world ; the interment of my body in the cold, damp earth ; 
the sighs of my bereaved widow and fatherless children ; all 
rushed in upon my fancy, and produced a deep depression. 
Never did the communication which the Redeemer once 
made to the mourner of Bethany appear so beautiful as at 
this moment : " I am the resurrection and the life : he that 
believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; 
and whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die. 
Believest thou this ?" John 11 : 25, 26. It was the light of 
life bursting in upon the empire of death, gilding the whole 
scene with the vision of immortality, and elevating my mind 
above the desolation around me, to look for the Saviour, the 
Lord Jesus Christ, " who shall change our vile body, that it 
may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to 
the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things 
unto himself." 

I did not leave the churchyard till the shadows of the 



Q THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 

evening reminded me of the lateness of the hour, and also 
of my having deserted my friends, whom I found waiting for 
me at the Rectory. When I entered the study, the venera- 
ble Pastor said, " I am happy, sir, to see you once more on 
this side the grave ; 1 shall be more happy to see you on the 
other side ; but before that blest interview can take place, 
two graves must be opened, and we both must pass through 
the dark valley of the shadow of death. My graveyard is 
much richer than it was when I commenced my labors in 
this parish ; and in walking round it my mind gets associated 
with some of my earliest religious friendships. Here, I see 
the monument of my friend, with whom I took sweet coun- 
sel ; there, the tombstone of my companion, with whom I 
walked to the house of God in company ; and now I shall 
have one erected to the memory of her whose remains we 
have just committed to the earth. Yes, and the day is not 
far distant when I shall be called to rest from my labors. 
Ah, soon, in a scene like this, I shall be the principal figure 1 
All these ceremonies will be performed for me. But I have 
a sublime prospect before me. A prospect, in comparison 
with which the boldest scenery of nature, the richest deco- 
rations of art, the most fascinating attractions of social or 
domestic bliss, fade away, as the brilliancy of the stars is 
obscured by the overpowering brightness of the meridian 
sun." 

" It is not every Christian," said Mr. Stevens, " who 
can speak with the same degree of confidence of future hap- 
piness. Some can meet death with rapturous delight ; others 
enjoy a settled composure in their last moments ; while in 
some, hope and fear alternately prevail. And though we 
may in some instances trace up this varying state of feeling, 
as death approa.ches, to physical causes, yet, should we not 
contemplate, in these cases, the all- wise and benevolent 
agency of God, who dispenses a larger or smaller portion 
of consolation, as, in each case, he sees to be best ?" 

<' Undoubtedly," replied the Pastor; " yet the Scriptures 



THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. Q 

lead us to believe that there is an ordained and a natural 
connection between an eminently holy life and an eminently 
peaceful decease. Hence, the apostle, after enforcing on 
his readers the cultivation of the graces of the Christian 
character, concludes by saying, ' Wherefore the rather, 
brethren, give diligence to make your calling and election 
sure ; for if ye do these things ye shall never fall : for so an 
entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the 
everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' 
2 Peter, 1 : 10, 11. ' The confidence of the people of God,' 
says the pious Mr. Jay, ' generally increases as death ap- 
proaches.' Hence, Isaiah compares their peace to a river ; 
for, as a river rolls deeper and wider as it hastens to the sea, 
so their peace commonly becomes more solid and more ex- 
tensive as they draw near eternity. In this view, the change 
which Dr. Goodwin experienced was remarkable. ' Is this 
dying V exclaimed he, a little before he expired : ' Is this 
what, for so many years, I have been dreading ? Oh, how 
precious does the righteousness of the Saviour now appear ! 
He cannot love me better than he does ; and I think I cannot 
love him better than I do.' This is not a solitary instance. 
How many have we ourselves seen who wept upon the 
mountains of Zion, but rejoiced in the valley of the shadow 
of death ; whose harps, long before hung upon the willows, 
were taken down, and delightfully used in singing the Lord's 
song in the most strange part of all the strange land ! We 
cannot always account for things as effects, which yet we 
are compelled by observation and testimony to admit as facts. 
But the case before us sufficiently explains itself. The love 
of life having, from the wuU of God, no longer now any pur- 
poses to answer, is suffered to die away. By drawing near 
the better country, we feel something of its influence, as the 
perfumes of ' Arabia the Happy ' are blown into the neigh- 
boring provinces. Above all, there is now more of the sim- 
plicity of faith. During life some degree of legality attaches 
to all our performances. Doing continually intermingles 



10 THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 

with believing ; and often, insensibly to ourselves, we are 
anxious to make ourselves better, to entitJe us to the divine 
favor, or to find something in ourselves wherein to Jiope, if 
not whereof to glory before God. But all this is now over. 
What can the believer do when dying ? What qualifica- 
tions can he then acquire ? What attainments can he then 
propose ? ' Let him look back,' says one, ' upon a well- 
spent life.' This is impossible. Every review which he 
takes of himself is humbling. The very sins of his holy 
duties would drive him to despair. One resource remains — 
one, only one, which is always equal to our relief — one, 
whose consolation is only hindered from flowing in to us by 
the want of simplicity of mind : it is, looking, by faith, to the 
Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world ; it is, 
to commit implicitly the soul to him. ' He is able also 
to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, 
seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.' " 
Heb. 7 : 25. 

" I am fond," said Mr. L , " of visiting the sick and 

the dying. When with them, I feel the truth of religion. 
The terror which seizes on the spirits of an infidel in his last 
moments, and the rapture which glows in the breast of the 
expiring Christian, equally attest its supreme excellence. 1 
have seen the unbeliever tremble, as the footsteps of death 
have been heard ; his face has turned pale through fear, or 
it has been shaded by despair. I have heard him utter the 
most piercing cries ; send forth sighs and groans — the speech- 
less messengers of woe ; reproach himself in the strongest 
language for his folly and his guilt, in having passed through 
life an enemy to the faith of Christ ; and I have seen him ex- 
pire in unutterable anguish. I have also seen the believer 
calm, elevated, and enraptured. I have heard the music of 
his soul becoming more soft and enchanting as the vital spirit 
has languished in his frame. I have listened with pleasure, 
while he has given utterance to his holy feelings and bliss- 
ful anticipations ; i>ut I have never heard one express any 



THE VILLAGE FUNERAL. 



11 



regret for his attachment to the doctrines of the Gospel. I 
have never known one willing to renounce his faith, or give 
up his hope, in prospect of death." 

" Nor I," said Mr. Ingleby, " and this circumstance is 
a strong presumptive evidence in favor of the adaptation of 
the Gospel to our moral condition. Infidelity may contemn 
the faith of Christ, and hold up its friends to scorn ; but she 
is faithless; for when her disciples want her presence in 
their last hours, she generally leaves them as victims whom 
she has fitted for destruction, that she may return among 
the gay and the dissipated, to prepare them also for the pangs 
of the second death." 

It was late before we left the Rectory, and in passing by 
the cottage which had that day cast out its dead, we saw a 
liglit in the room, and on knocking at the door, we gained 
admittance. " Well, Robert," said Mr. Stevens, " you are 
not yet gone to bed." 

" No, sir," he replied ;" if I go to bed, I don't think 
that I shall go to sleep. I thought when my wife lay so ill, 
and suffered so much, that I should be willing to give her 
up to the Lord, if he would take her ; but now she is gone, 
I feel my loss. No man can tell what death is, till it comes. 
I love to think of her, for she was a good wife, and a good 
mother ; and I should like to talk to her ; but now, if I go 
into the room, I find that T am alone ; and this chills my 
heart. My boy tries to comfort me, but, poor fellow, he 
wants a comforter as well as I ; for he loved his mother." 

" But God," observed Mr. L , " can support you 

under your trial ; for he has said, ' Call upon me in the 
day of trouble : I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify 
me.' " 

" Oh, yes," replied Robert, " he does support me, and 
has given me a spirit of resignation to his holy will ; but, 
sir, nature can't help feeling." 

" But," said Mr. Stevens, " I do not suppose you would 
recall her from heaven, even if you were permitted." 



12 THE VILLAGE FUNERAL 

" Why, sir, it gives me pleasure to think that, while I 
am mourning here below, she is enjoying the felicity of the 
heavenly state ; but if I were permitted to recall her, I am 
sure that I should be tempted to do it ; for she always tried 
to make me happy. But she is gone, never more to return. 
In looking into her drawer, since we came back from the 
funeral, I found these papers, which I have just been read- 
ing." 

I looked over them, and having transcribed a copy of 
one, I will insert it. It was dated three months before her 
decease. 

" I have just been favored with a singular manifestation 
of the loving kindness of my Saviour. He has pardoned all 
my sins. He has removed all my doubts. He has given 
me peace, and has enabled me to resign my husband and 
child to his care. He will soon take me to himself. As I 
have felt at times great depression, and may in my last mo- 
ments be unable to speak of his doings, I now record in 
writing what will not be seen till after I have seen him. I 
die a guilty and worthless sinner, depending on his death 
for salvation ; and can say, that I die in full and certain hope 
of a joyful resurrection to eternal life. Sarah." 

" Dear widowed Husband — Before you see this, I shall 
have passed through the valley, and joined the redeemed 
above. While you are weeping, I shall be rejoicing ; yet, 
if the spirits of the glorified are suffered to visit their earthly 
friends, I will often come and hover over you, and the dear 
motherless child. Follow me, as far as I followed Christ. 
Farewell, till we meet in glory. 

" Yours for ever, Sarah." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 37. 



THE 



SABBATH A BLESSING TO MANKIND, 



BY REV. GARDINER SPRING, D. D. 



The design of these few pages is not to present the ar- 
gument in favor of the Divine authority, and perpetuity of the 
Sabbath. These are subjects which, if entered upon at all, 
must be pursued to considerable extent. When I consider 
the original institution of the Sabbath, of which we have so 
explicit an account at the close of the Mosaic narrative of 
the creation ; when I find the observance of this day enjoined 
in one of the precepts of the moral law ; when I find, through- 
out the Psalms and the Prophets, this solemn injunction 
implicitly repeated ; when I hear our blessed Lord expressly 
speaking of the existence of this day after the abolition of the 
Jewish economy ; when I hear the apostle John, long after 
our Lord's resurrection and ascension into heaven, speaking 
with peculiar emphasis, of a particular day as the Lord's 
Day ; when I find the apostles by their example setting apart 
one day in seven for religious purposes ; when I can trace 
the existence and observance of Sabbatical Institutions from 
the creation down to the present hour ; and when to these 
considerations, I add the natural fitness and propriety of such 
a day, and consider how indispensable it is to the existence 
of religion among men : I am compelled to believe that the 
Sabbath is of Divine origin and perpetual obligation. 

VOL. I. 21 



2 THE SABBATH 

But there is one view in which the Sabbath may com- 
mend itself to the consciences of men who question its Divine 
authority. The peculiar and appropriate employment of this 
day consists in the public worship of God, and the duties of 
domestic and personal piety, to the exclusion of idleness and 
sloth, of secular business, and of pleasure and amusement. 
It may be there are advantages attendant on the observance 
of this institution, which will give it a place in the affections 
of eveiy man who identifies himself with the high interests 
of human society. I have often thought that some men 
disregard the claims of this day with a spirit that calls in 
question scarcely any thing more than their patriotism ; and 
who, if they were aware of the invariable tendencies of its 
observance, would rejoice in its appointment, and greet its 
return with an^ enthusiasm like that with which they hail the 
birthday of their country's freedom. 

Is it too much to affirm, that the Sabhatical Institution is 
preeminently the means of intellectual advancement ? In the 
performance of the appropriate duties of the Sabbath, every 
person either becomes a teacher or a learner, and derives his 
instructions from the best and most important sources. He 
either reads or hears the Holy Scriptures ; he listens to the 
instructions and counsels of wisdom from the house of God ; 
he occupies a place in the school of Christ, either at home or 
abroad, and that with the professed object of becoming ac- 
quainted with subjects which interest his mind, elicit thought 
and inquiry, and produce that discipline of the understanding, 
and capacity for intellectual effort, which are the proximate 
design of all education. 

Ignorance and barbarism form no part of the character 
of men who revere the Lord's day. It is impossible to con- 
demn to meanness and obscurity the individual, or the 
community, who rejoice in the light of the Christian Sab- 
bath. Carry the privileges of this day to the most abject 



A BLESSING TO MANKIND. 3 

on the globe, and just in the proportion in which they are 
subjected to its influence, do you elevate them from their 
intellectual degradation. The reason is obvious. There is 
no small portion of mankind, whose only opportunity of 
information is derived from the Sabbath. And it is no con- 
temptible opportunity. With the exception of a few years 
of infancy, and, perhaps, sickness, it consists of one day in 
seven, and ordinarily of one-seventh part of an entire life. 
The child who lives but seven years, is furnished, from this 
day alone, with one entire year of important instruction ; 
the youth who dies at the age of fourteen, is furnished with 
two years ; the man of twenty-one, with three years ; the 
man of forty-two, with six years ; the man of eighty, with 
nearly twelve entire years of uninterrupted learning. You 
may suppose an individual, a family, or community, either 
so faulty or so unfortunate as to be deprived of all instruction, 
except on the Sabbath ; but if the instructions of the Sabbath 
are improved, it is impossible they should be ignorant. 
One-seventh part of human life, even with persons thus 
abject, is devoted to the attainment of knowledge. 

The Sabbath, in this particular, affects the great mass of 
mankind. It addresses its obligations, and presents its 
privileges to all orders and classes of men, the low as well 
as the high, the poor as well as the rich. Conceive, then, 
the great mass of the community devoting one day in seven 
to the attainment of knowledge ; one day in seven search- 
ing the Holy Scriptures ; assembling in the house of God 
to hear the instructions of his ministers ; and then ap- 
preciate the importance of the Sabbath. The Sabbath also 
furnishes the world with instruction in the tenderest and 
most docile age. That great precept in the decalogue 
which enforces the observance of this day, has a particular 
direction for masters and heads of families. It contemplates 
the assiduous and indefatigable instruction of the rising gen- 



4 THE SABBATH 

oration, and through those domestic instrumentalities which 
are invested with powerful persuasion, and usually attended 
with happy success. To what a multitude of children does 
the Sabbath present the best time, the best opportunity, and 
the best motives for the attainment of instruction ! And with 
what inconceivable force may we make this appeal when 
we advert to that blessed expedient of the age in which we 
live, the establishment of Sunday-schools ! Scarcely do our 
children come into existence, when they are encircled by 
the light of Sabbaths. From their early years they look 
towards the Sabbath and the Sanctuary as the appointed 
means of instruction. They grow up under the cheering 
influence of this day of knowledge ; and whether they be- 
come improved or degraded in a spiritual view, intellectually, 
and that through the whole course of their existence, they 
are under obligations to the Sabbath. 

There is something, too, in the kind of instruction which 
the Sabbath communicates, which has a happy influence on 
the human mind. It relates to themes on which are staked 
our dearest interests for this world and the world to come. 
It calls the soul away from the bustle of this vain world to 
contemplate the wonderful works of God in creation, provi- 
dence, and redemption. It casts a veil over what is seen, 
and uncovers to the eye of the mind what is unseen. It 
throws back into oblivion the lying vanities of time, sense, 
and creatures, and brings forward the solid and permanent 
realities of eternity, faith, and the Creator, everywhere 
disclosing facts, principles, and results, which arrest the 
wandering intellect, and are fitted to expand and exalt it for 
ever. It is the incessant occupancy of the mind by objects 
of sense and the pursuits of this world, that unfits it for sober 
thought and the attainment of useful knowledge. Exclusive 
immersion in the perplexities and cupidity of business de- 
bases the intellectual nature of men ; and it is only by being 



A BLESSING TO MANKIND. 5 

conversant with objects and truths of a more exalted kind, 
that the soul projects her noblest achievements, and makes 
her most rapid progression. I am persuaded more is ac- 
complished, directly or indirectly, by the various institutions 
of the Sabbath, to enlighten the human mind, than is ac- 
complished in any other way. As the means of mere 
intellectual advancement, I would not exchange the Sabbath 
for all other means of instruction. The Sabbath is the great 
day of light to this benighted world. The earth would 
scarcely be darker without the sun, than the intellectual 
hemisphere without the Sabbath. 

There is another thought not unworthy of our notice : 
the Sabbath lies at the foundation of all sound morality. 
Morality is a matter of principle, " Out of the heart are 
the issues of life." „ Let the principles of moral obligation 
once become universally relaxed, and the practice of morality 
will become loose and unhinged in the same proportion. 
A man cannot preserve his own morals — a parent cannot 
preserve the morals of his children, after he has taken away 
the sanctions, and erased the impressions of religious obliga- 
tion. Take away these sanctions, and you will soon see how 
much his own morals and those of his family owe to the sacred- 
ness of good principles. It is impossible that a wholesome 
morality should be maintained in any community without an 
active impression of religious obligation. If you can per- 
suade a community to reject the grand principles of moral 
obligation ; if you can lead them to doubt the genuineness 
and authenticity of the Scriptures ; to question the reality 
and obligation of natural religion ; to hesitate whether there 
be any such thing as virtue or vice, or whether the soul will 
have any future existence, and if it has, whether there be an 
eternal state of rewards and punishments ; or whether there 
exists any such being as God — if you can bring a com- 
munity to this direful point of scepticism or infidelity, you 



6 THE SABBATH 

are sure to have broken down the barriers of moral virtue, 
and to have hoisted the floodgates of immorality and crime. 
There is one institution which opposes itself to this progress 
of human degeneracy, and throws an impenetrable shield 
around the interests of moral virtue in our troubled world. 
It is the Sabbath. In the awful struggle between virtue and 
vice, notwithstanding the powerful auxiliaries which the 
cause of iniquity finds in the bosoms of men, in the force 
of self-indulgence, and the influence of popular example, 
wherever the Sabbath has been suffered to live and exert 
her benignant authority, the trembling interests of moral 
virtue have always been revered and supported. The great 
business of this day is to explain, demonstrate, and enforce 
the leading principles of a sound morality. Wherever the 
Sabbath is observed, you behold a nation assembling one 
day in seven, to become acquainted with the best moral 
principles, and hear the best moral precepts. And where 
this is the case, in defiance of the love of sin, the authority 
of moral virtue must be acknowledged, and the influence of 
the Sabbath must be felt. We may not at once perceive 
the effects which the recurrence of this day has upon human 
society. " Like most moral causes, it operates slowly but 
surely;" but wherever it comes, it gradually weakens the 
power and breaks the yoke of profligacy and sin. And 
here let it be remarked, in perfect accordance with these 
suggestions will be found the history of individuals and 
associations of men. No villain regards the Sabbath. No 
vicious family regards the Sabbath. No worthless and 
immoral community regards the Sabbath. The Sabbath 
is a barrier which must be broken down, before men can 
become giants in iniquity. Lord Chief Justice Hale, of 
England, remarks, " that of all the persons who were 
convicted of capital crimes while he was upon the bench, 
he found a few only who would not confess, on inquiry, 



A BLESSING TU xMANKIND. ^ 

that they began their career of wickedness by a neglect 
of the duties of the Sabbath, and vicious conduct on that 
day." I should like to see an authentic and correct his- 
tory of all the prisons in the land ; and unless I am much 
deceived, such a statement would not present an instance 
of an individual who had not broken over the restraints of 
the Sabbath before he was abandoned to crime, and who 
could not mark the profanations of that day as forming an 
advanced stage in his downward career. You may enact 
laws for the prevention of crime; you may frame them 
with judgment, and execute them with promptness and im- 
partiality ; but the secret and silent influence of the Sabbath 
is a greater preventive of crimes, and does of itself " con- 
stitute a stronger shield to the vital interests of a community, 
than any code of penal statutes that ever was enacted." 
Sound morality has no such foundation as the Sabbath. 
The Sabbath is the keystone of the Temple of Virtue, 
which, however it may be defaced, will survive many a 
rude shock, and retain much of its pristine magnificence, as 
long as its foundation remains firm. 

As a general remark, I would say, the Sabhath is a dis- 
tinguished means of national prosperity. The God of heav- 
en has annexed very great and precious promises to the 
sacred observance of this day, involving emphatically " the 
life that now is, as well as that which is to come." He 
told his ancient people, " If thou turn away thy foot from 
the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and 
call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable ; 
and shalt honor him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding 
thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words ; then 
shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord ; and I will cause thee 
to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with 
the heritage of Jacob thy father : for the mouth of the Lord 
hath spoken it." Again he says, " If ye will diligently 



8 



THE SABBATH 



hearken unto me, to bring in no burden through the gates 
of this city on the Sabbath day, but hallow the Sabbath day 
to do no work therein ; then shall there enter into the gates 
of this city kings and princes sitting upon the throne of 
David, riding in chariots and on horses, they and their 
princes, the men of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem : 
and this city shall remain for ever." You will not often 
find a notorious Sabbath-breaker a permanently prosperous 
man ; or a Sabbath-breaking community, a prosperous and 
happy community. " Them that honor me," saith God, " I 
will honor." 

It is obvious that temporal prosperity would be the nat- 
ural result of the observance of the Sabbath, if it secured 
nothing more than the blessings to which we have already 
referred. But there are other particulars in which the ten- 
dencies of this day exert a most salutary influence on human 
society. The " provision which this holy day furnishes of a 
season of rest to laboring animals;" the "rest and refresh- 
ment secured to mankind;" the "neatness and cleanliness 
which it promotes, especially among the lower classes of 
men;" the "softness and civility of manners" which it dif- 
fuses throughout a community; the "tendency of the Sab- 
bath to abase our pride, and remove our native ruggedness 
of disposition;" the self-respect and elevation of character 
to which it so successfully invites those who observe it with 
decency — all these evince that the " Sabbath was made for 
man," and is instrumentally the great dispenser of prosperi- 
ty and happiness. 

In addition to these advantages, the influence the Sab- 
bath exerts on social order and civil liberty is by no means 
of little importance. It may be questioned, whether a na- 
tion of slaves was ever found where the mstitutions of the 
Sabbath have been enjoyed in their purity. It is impossible 
a people can be " hoodwinked and misruled either by kings, 



A BLESSING TO MANKIND. g 

princes, or priests," where the Sabbath proclaims its legiti- 
mate immunities, or insists on its felicitous obligations. The 
yoke of tyranny and superstition cannot bear the influence 
of the Sabbath. Let a nation be composed of men who sa- 
credly revere the Sabbath, and they are no longer the fit sub- 
jects of unlawful authority, or irresistible usurpation. And 
what, think you, would become of the liberties of a nation, 
where all its inhabitants were Sabbath-breakers ? How long 
would freedom survive the extermination of the Sabbath ? 

Nor is the influence of the Sabbath to be disregarded, as 
it respects the means of a comfortable subsistence. It would 
be well if men who are interested to elevate the condition 
of the poor, and lessen the sources and diminish the amount 
of human poverty and wretchedness, would soberly think of 
the advantages of the Sabbath, as one of the most efficient 
expedients for the prevention of pauperism. It would be no 
useless information, if a statistic account could be furnished 
of the commerce, agriculture, manufactures, arts, tranquilli- 
ty, affluence, and elevation of particular communities which 
have been abandoned to a general profanation of the Sab- 
bath, and contrasted with a similar view of communities 
in which this holy day has been observed with the rever- 
ence due to its divine authority. We have no question 
what the result of the contrast would be. To men and com- 
munities who profane the Sabbath, to say nothing of the cog- 
nate vices of this profanation, and the waste of property in 
maintaining them, this day is not only the most expensive 
of all the seven, but not unfrequently of itself consumes the 
earnings of the six days' toil. Upon the poorer class of the 
community, especially, the observance of the Sabbath will 
be found to have an incalculable influence in rescuing them 
from want, and elevating them to the decencies of a com- 
fortable subsistence. A poor man, an impoverished com- 
munity, can badly afford to indulge in the neglect of the 
VOL I. 21*^ 



H) THE SABBATH 

Sabbath. Nor is what I say theory merely. You cannot 
find the abject poor among those who pay a serious and rev- 
erential regard to the Sabbath. The most filthy, starved, 
and wretched of the human family, will be found among 
those who habitually and always disregard the Sabbath. 
The host of mendicants that infest the community, especial- 
ly in our large towns, will be found to issue' from cellars 
and garrets that have never been consecrated to the obser- 
vance of the Lord's day. Let a man look round upon the 
world with the eye of a philanthropic economist merely, 
and he will see abundant evidence, that the Sabbath was 
instituted in kindness to man, and that a sacred and strict 
observance of it tends directly to promote the temporal pros- 
perity of mankind. 

But there is another consideration of still weightier im- 
port, which I may not suppress : the Sabbath is the great 
means of perpetuating in the earth the knowledge of true relig- 
ion. Very few men, if any, are universal sceptics. All 
nations have some impressions of a religious sort, be they 
ever so erroneous. The moral and intellectual constitution 
of men in this matter, is very clearly disclosed in the num- 
ber and diversity of religions which find a place on the 
earth. To limit the prodigious increase of errors on a sub- 
ject so interesting to mankind, God early gave them the 
Sabbath as the means of perpetuating the true religion. 
Hence this day, wherever it has been duly observed, has 
been the great preservative against polytheism and idolatry. 
God said to the Israelites, " Surely my Sabbaths ye shall 
keep ; for it is a sign between me and you, that ye may know 
that I am the LordJ^ The events which the Patriarchal, 
the Jewish, and the Christian Sabbath commemorate, are, 
the original creation, the deliverance of the Israelites out of 
Egypt, and the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead — 
events which have ever been considered characteristic of 



A BLESSING TO MANKIND. n 

the true religion. If these three events can be established, 
the religion founded on them must be acknowledged to be 
of divine, origin. Now, the observance of the Sabbath trans- 
mits these events down to the successive generations of men, 
as matters of incontrovertible reality ; so that the Sabbath 
is a " sign " between God and man, recurring every week, 
and a sign of such singular significance, that the religion of 
which these events constitute so prominent a part, must be 
the true religion. You have seen coins, and pillars, and 
monuments, and have observed holidays, which were un- 
equivocal demonstrations of the events they were designed 
to commemorate. Of the same general nature is the Sab- 
bath. It is a public observance of matters of fact, the reali- 
ty of which could be easily ascertained, which was got up 
from the period in which the facts themselves took place ; 
and as such, has come down through successive centuries to 
the present hour. We should have known nothing of the 
Sabbath, but for the events themselves which this day com- 
memorates. When we speak of the Sabbath, we at once 
recur to the reasons of its institution. When our children 
witness the observance of this day, and inquire why one day 
in seven is set apart from a secular to a religious purpose, 
we are at once led to a disclosure of the events of which 
this day is the memorial ; and when their children, and 
their children's children, find themselves the possessors of 
such an observance, they will also be possessed of the events 
which the observance commemorates, and in these, possess 
an epitome of the evidences in favor of the true religion. 

Whereverthe Sabbath exists, therefore, and is observed, 
there exists the knowledge of the one God, and the one 
Mediator. To this institution it is in a great measure owing, 
that the knowledge of the true religion has been, and is still 
preserved in the world. If you find a spot so abandoned as 
to be a stranger to the Sabbath, there, you may rest assured, 



J2 THE SABBATH 

is no knowledge of the true God. France, in the age of 
her great moral, as well as political revolution, abolished 
the Sabbath, and with it abolished her religion, declared 
that there was no God but reason, and no hereafter except 
the grave. The same result will follow the same premises, 
wherever the experiment shall be made. The nation that 
disowns the Sabbath, is, necessarily, a nation of infidels 
and atheists. You may look where you will, either among 
individuals, families, or communities, and if the Sabbath 
is a desolation, there you will find a gradual and certain 
decay from true religion to infidelity and paganism. Let 
the Sabbath be forgotten for half a century in our own fa- 
vored land, and in vain might you look for a single Chris- 
tian temple throughout this western hemisphere. There 
are towns and villages on this continent, where, for half 
a century, the Sabbath has been neglected and despised ; 
and, if you will visit them, you will see that you have no 
necessity of going to India, or the Southern Ocean, to find 
immortal beings who are ignorant of their immortality, and 
men who must soon appear before God in judgment, who 
have seldom heard of God and his Christ. There is just as 
much importance, therefore, attached to the observance of 
the Sabbath, as there is to the preservation of the true relig- 
ion among men. 

Allied to this thought, I may add, the Sabbath is the 
great means of holiness and eternal life. Man is by nature 
dead in sin, and under the curse of God's righteous law. 
Such he must remain, unless transformed by the Spirit of 
God in all the moral character of his soul, and justified free- 
ly by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ 
Jesus. The great means of this moral transformation is 
found in the institutions of the holy Sabbath. Not only does 
this day perpetuate the knowledge of the true religion on 
the earth, but it secures the existence of vital religion in the 



A BLESSING TO MAxNKlND. -^g 

hearts of men. The various means of grace, so abundantly 
blessed of God, are all by his own appointment brought into 
action on this holy day. But for the Sabbath, they would 
not be once thought of on other days ; but for the Sabbath, 
they would soon be erased from the recollections of men, 
and blotted out from the record of human affairs. Is the 
soul enlightened, convinced of sin, humbled, renewed, in- 
vigorated, comforted, assisted in its struggles with this con- 
flicting world, brought forward on its spiritual pilgrimage, 
sanctified, prepared to triumph over death and the grave, 
made meet for heaven, clothed as an angel of light, and pre- 
sented before the throne of God, without spot or wrinkle, or 
any such thing ? All this light, and purity, and consola- 
tion, and honor, and glory, she owes instrumental ly to the 
Sabbath. Is this the happy allotment of the church of God 
collectively ? Are such the possessions of the nations of the 
saved, composed as they are of a great multitude which no 
man can number, from every kindred, and tongue, and peo- 
ple ? With one voice must they ascribe this inestimable 
inheritance to the influence of the Sabbath. Blot out the 
Sabbath, and you blot out the last beam of hope from the 
troubled and desponding heart. Blot out the Sabbath, and 
no longer will thfe salutary lessons of the Bible lead ungodly 
men to repentance and salvation. No longer will the silver 
clarion of the Gospel proclaim liberty to the captives, and 
the opening of death's prison doors to those that are bound. 
No longer will the voice of supplication ascend from this 
ruined world, to draw from heaven the blessing now so 
munificently imparted by the hearer of prayer. No longer 
will the Spirit of truth and grace dwell among men, to dis- 
sipate their darkness, and communicate that influence which 
raakes the desert like Eden, and the wilderness like the gar- 
den of the Lord. No longer will the temples of the Most 
High allure the heavy-laden sinner to the mercy-seat. No 



]^4 THE SABBATH 

longer will the sacred thanksgivings of the church on earth, 
intermingling with the sweeter and purer harmony of the 
church in heaven, ascend as a sweet-smelling savor before 
the God of the spirits of all flesh. No longer will ordi- 
nances quicken, or the soul be comforted, or grace be 
triumphant, or the unnumbered heirs of sin and perdition be 
conducted in the path that terminates at God's right hand. 
No; blot out the Sabbath, and darkness will cover the earth, 
and gross darkness the people. Sin will reign, Satan will 
walk through the earth in all the frenzy of his long-wished- 
for usurpation, and death and hell will follow in his train. 
Blot out the Sabbath, and, in one mighty crowd of pilgrims, 
this world's population would march quietly on to the gulf 
of remediless ruin. 

As a man of the world merely, I venerate the Sabbath. 
I would not be the agent in the destruction of this benevolent 
institution, for all that earth can give. Indeed, this world 
would have very little to bestow, when all that is illuminat 
ing and pure, elevating and noble, serene and holy, have 
become exiled from among men, as they must be with the 
extermination of this sacred day. That man has already 
lived too long, who has survived the extinction of the Sab- 
bath. But why should I speak as an inhabitant of this 
world merely ? Immortal existence itself would be a curse, 
if extended beyond the blessings of the Sabbath. No, I 
would not be the witness of its extinction, I would not stand 
by and hear the dying groans of this day of mercy, for all 
the universe can give. Rather would I yield my immor- 
tality, than hear the knell that tolls the departure of this 
Great Day. 

There is another thought which it was my purpose to 
submit : Does not the importance of the Sabbath, in a civil 
view, invest it with an undeniable claim to the protection of 
public law? The laws of all Christian States have, to a 



A BLE^SIXC TO MAXKIXn. 15 

greater or less extent, given their authority and protection 
to the Sabbath. Men of wisdom, honor, and virtue, have 
ever felt that it ought to be among the earliest objects of 
their solicitude to perpetuate the blessings of this holy day. 
And does not the importance of the Sabbath plead irresisti- 
bly for this paternal interposition ? Is the Sabbath the great 
means of perpetuating in the earth the knowledge of the 
true religion ? Is it the great means of intellectual advance- 
ment ? Does it lie at the foundation of all sound morality ? 
Is it not less a distinguished means of temporal prosperity, 
than of holiness and eternal life ? Then is there no institu- 
tion around which a more impenetrable barrier of whole- 
some restrictions ought to be erected. The Sabbath is the 
noblest and firmest pillar of a well-regulated society. It is 
the corner-stone of that noble edifice of morals, liberty, and 
public weal, which is the pride and exultation of every pros- 
perous community. If our political institutions cannot be 
preserved unless the laws and usages of the land are formed 
on the basis of sound morality ; if morality cannot be main- 
tamed without the active impression of religious principle ; 
and if neither can exist long, where the Sabbath exerts none 
of its heaven-born influence ; then is it not the truest policy 
of a State to enforce the observance of this day ? It is im- 
possible human laws should bind men to be religious ; and 
nothing would be more preposterous than to attempt it. 
You may bribe them to be hypocrites, but you cannot force 
them to be at heart the servants of God. But it is surely 
no impossible thing to suppress the open and intrepid viola- 
tions of the Sabbath. I hear you say, It would be an in- 
fringement of the rights of conscience and personal liberty ! 
But do the rights of conscience and personal liberty consist 
in allowing every man to do as he pleases, irrespective of 
what is right in itself and the best good of the State ? As 
well might you afliirm it to be an infringement of the rights 



IQ THE SABBATH 

of conscience and personal liberty to impose a legal restraint 
upon fraud and forgery. If you reply, Crimes of this sort 
are a violation of the divine law, and at war with the best 
interests of the community ; I rejoin, so is the violation of 
the Lord's day. Nay more, I seriously doubt whether the 
violation of the Sabbath is not vastly more injurious to the 
community, than any act of fraud which you can mention. 
The ground on which the Sabbath claims the protection of 
human laws, is simply the ground on which any other in- 
stitution claims that protection ; and that is, it is an ordi- 
nance of God, and indispensable to the well-being of the 
State. " There is not," says a sensible anonymous writer, 
" a single position in political economy, which can be more 
firmly established in the mind of every candid man, than 
that the strict and universal observance of the Sabbath is, 
in the highest degree, conducive to the public prosperity. 
On no subject whatever, is the language of experience more 
explicit and decisive." God grant we may not be left to 
learn too late, that the Sabbath is one of the selectest gifts 
of heaven to men. When, like other nations and other 
communities, we have seen that virtue and happiness, and 
those social and civil privileges, which are secured by this 
sacred institution, swept away ; then shall we be taught that 
the Sabbath is the palladium of the dearest rights of man, 
and that the best interests of the community can no longer 
be consulted without enforcing its observance. 

There is a single inquiry more. Does not the importance 
of the Sabbath bring home the ohligation to the bosom of 
every patriot to support its authority both by his example and 
influence ? Nor can I too forcibly urge this demand. If 
there were no other considerations than those of private 
interest, I would not cease to urge the sacred observance 
of this day. No man, no community, ever lost any thing by 
keeping the Sabbath day holy. God will bless the Sabbath 



A BLESSING TO MANKIND. 17 

to those who observe it, and he will curse all other time to 
those who profane it. The profanation of this day is too 
bold and sacrilegious an invasion of God's property, not to 
be followed with the malediction of the Great Proprietor of 
time and Creator of men. Yet there are multitudes, who 
think it no profanation of this holy day to convert it into a 
day of good neighborhood and social enjoyment. Others 
have no misgivings of heart at an occasional journey upon 
business, or jaunt of pleasure, during these sacred hours. 
Others would not even hesitate at this. How many fields and 
streams are there which swarm with men, women, and 
children, who devote the day to pleasure and amusement. 
But who has authorized men to trample on a divine institu- 
tion, for the sake of their own convenience, or pleasure ? 
Who has relaxed the obligations of eternal, immutable 
righteousness, for the accommodation of men who serve 
Mammon rather than God ? I should like to see all the 
apologies for violating the Sabbath condensed, and enforced 
with all the ability which man can give them, and I will 
pledge myself, in a single sentence, to refute them all. 
And to anticipate a redemption of the pledge, I will here 
rehearse the sentence, once indeed rehearsed with memorable 
solemnity — Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy ! 

Allow me affectionately to invite the reader to a per- 
petual abjuration of all such violations of this holy day. If 
you would not be instrumental in bringing down upon our 
favored country the desolations of older and more degenerate 
States, beware how you symbolize with their profanation of 
the Sabbath ! Oh, it is enough to sicken one's heart, to 
survey the immoralities that are fostered by the neglect and 
abuse of this day in some of the States even of modern Eu- 
rope. If you are not a stranger to the ardor and enthusiasm 
which so justly beats high in the breast of American citi- 
zens J if you have thought the liberty, laws, and political 



18 THE SABBATH 

institutions of this happy land worth preserving ; I entreat 
you, guard, with a watchful eye, a reproachless example, 
and commanding influence, this first of all her moral institu- 
tions. Let it be your own, and the practice of all around 
you, whenever this day commences, to suspend all secular 
business. " Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work : 
but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God ; in 
it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy 
daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy 
cattle, nor the stranger that is within thy gates." This is 
the divine command — a command that occupies one-tenth 
part of the moral law, that was written by God's own finger 
on tables of stone, and, by his Almighty voice, sounded out 
from Sinai, that it might pour its obligations upon every ear, 
through every age of time. Beware, also, how you make 
this day a day of pleasure and amusement. The common 
sense of every man must teach him that the Sabbath was 
instituted for a higher purpose. There is no more insidious, 
and, perhaps, no more fatal profanation of the day than this, 
though it may have found many a patron from Christian 
names. To regard the day simply as a pleasant relaxation 
from the severity of toil, and a temperate indulgence in 
whatever tends to cheer the fatigue, and refresh the langor 
of unabated diligence through the week ; these are the very 
liberties with the Sabbath which, though commenced with a 
trembling conscience, and indulged by fearful gradations, in 
the result never fail to thrust out all the solemnity of its 
duties, and prevent all the preciousness of its blessings. 
This is that " leaven of impiety, which, the more it ferments 
and is diffused, does the more corrupt and demoralize the 
whole mass of civil society ;" this is that drop of poison 
which contaminates and pollutes the very fountains of grace 
and mercy, to which this world owes so much of its purity 
and enjoyment. 



A BLESSI^G TO MANKIND. jg 

On the behalf of this holy day, therefore, and in the 
name of the God of heaven, I ask your example and your 
influence, to redeem this day from the invasions of a profa- 
nation that must be attended with consequences affectingly 
serious. To you who are magistrates, and invested with 
civil authority, permit me respectfully to say, The ordinance 
of God and the voice of a free people have elevated you to 
posts of dignity and power, that you may be the sentinels of 
the public virtue. To you their eyes are directed, to main- 
tain the sacredness and diffuse the blessings of the holy 
Sabbath. The voice of the King of kings to you is, Re- 
?nember the Sahhath Day ! In your personal and official 
capacity never lose sight of its appointment and design. If, 
as our civil fathers, you would see your children rise up and 
call you blessed ; if you would embalm your names in the 
remembrance of an elevated people, and transmit them with- 
many a grateful sentiment to a distant futurity ; be entreated 
to become the exemplary and fearless guardians of the 
Christian Sabbath. To you who are parents, allow me to 
say, On you also devolves the sacred charge of perpetuating 
and extending the divine influence of this holy day. Let 
your children be instructed in the obligations of the Sabbath, 
and governed to a conformity with its reasonable requisitions 
in early life. Even should the men of the existing genera- 
tion become demoralized, there is a redeeming influence 
lodged within the bosom of every family, that may form a 
generation of another spirit, and preserve the land from 
increasing corruption. On you who are teachers, rests the 
same sacred responsibility. Let your schools be nurseries 
of morality and piety, as well as of learning. To you, the 
community have a right to look for the influence of a moral 
restraint in qualifying our youth for useful members of civil 
society. To the individuals in private life whom the God 
of heaven has destined to influence over their fellow-men, let 



20 THE SABBATH A BLESSING, ETC. 

me say, Interpose that influence in behalf of the sacred 
Sabbath, Let it be one of the great principles of your 
conduct, wherever and whatever you may be, to uphold the 
authority and plead the cause of this holy institution. To 
the youth, particularly, permit me to say. Let nothing tempt 
you to profane the Sabbath. No one external observance 
will exert a more powerful influence on your moral charac- 
ter than a strict regard to the Lord's day. You cannot 
become abandoned while you revere the Sabbath. You 
cannot become useless members of civil society so long as 
you regard the Sabbath. You cannot put yourselves be- 
yond the reach of hope and heaven so long as you sanctify 
the Sabbath. 



Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love, 
But there's a nobler rest above : 
To that our longing souls aspire, 
With ardent love and strong desire. 

No more fatigue, no more distress. 
Nor sin, nor death, shall reach the place ; 
No groans shall mingle with the songs 
Which warble from immortal tongues. 

No rude alarms of raging foes ; 
No cares to break the long repose , 
No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
But sacred, high, eternal noon. 

O long-expected day, begin ! 
Dawn on this world of woe and sin : 
Fain would we leave this weary road. 
To sleep in death, and rest in God. 

Doddridge. 
PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



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Bishop Hall's Scripture History, or 
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Bishop Hopkins on the Ten Command- 
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President Edwards' Thoughts on 
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Venn's Complete Duty of Man. 

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Gregory's (Olinthus, LL.D.) Evi- 
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Elizabeth Bales. By John Angell 
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Emily Maria. 

Newton's Letters to an Adopted 
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Child's Book on the Sabbath. 

Nathan W. Dickerman. 

Mary Lothrop. 

John Mooney Mead, 

Henry Obookiah. 



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Gallaudet's Life of Josiah. 

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Peet's Scripture Lessons. 

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