TRACTS 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



tntxai Stvits, 



"!^ils 




VOL. XI 



PRINTED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

160 NASSAU. STREET, NEW YORK. 



CONTENTS 



VOL. XI. 

No. Pages. 

409. The Christian Abroad on a Summer Excursion, . . .12 

410. Memoir of Anna Mary Adams, 8 

411. The First Prayer in the Family, 4 

412. The Sinner Condemned Already, ..... 4 

413. The Russian Nurse. By Rev. Richard Knill, ... 8 

414. Your Best Friend, 4 

415. How to Spend the Lord's Day, 8 

416. A Prayer Meeting of Forty Years, .... 4 

417. Do you Love God ? .4 

418. Will it Ever be Known 1 4 

419. The Logic of the Life. A Narrative. By Rev. Hugh StoweU, 4 

420. The Inquiring-meeting. By Rev. Gardiner Spring, D. D., 36 

421. Scripture Illustrations of the All-sufficiency of Christ, . 4 

422. Reformation of Drunkards, ...... 4 

423. My Wife's Gold Ring, 4 

424. Eternal Life or Eternal Death awaits You, ... 4 

425. Can you Die tranquil ? By Rev. Adolphus Monod, . . 20 

426. The Yorkshire Weaver, or Family Prayer. By Rev. Rich- 

ard Knill, 4 

427. The Gift for the Aged, or the Value of the glorious Gospel, 24 

428. A Friendly Word with the Gamester, .... 4 

429. A Plea for Sacred Music. By Rev. E. W. Hooker, D D., 16 

430. Fatal Delusions, 4 

431. The Life-preserver, ....... 4 

432. The False Claims of the Pope, 32 

433. Scripture Promises to the Liberal, 4 

434. A Benevolent Husbandry, 8 

435. "Why do we sit Still?" 4 

436. The wrath to Come, 4 

437. The New- Year, 4 

438. The Weaver's Daughter. A Narrative. By a Layman, 16 



4 CONTENTS. 

No. Pages. 

439. Consecration to Christ, 4 

440. The Unanswerable Argument, ..... 4 

441. Daniel Murray, late Lieutenant in the Navy, ... 4 

442. The Slumberer Aroused, ...... 8 

443. Tom Starboard and Jack Halliard. A Nautical Temperance 
Dialogue, . 24 

444. Domestic Happiness. By Rev. William Jay, . . ,16 

445. The Holy Ghost Resisted, 4 

446. The Stricken Bride, 4 

447. Why should I study the Bible? . . . . *. 4 

448. Why sit ye here Idle 1 4 

449. Would you be Happy ?....... 4 

450. The Heart Opened, 4 

451. " Ye shall not surely Die." A short Sermon. By Rev. 
Lemuel Haynes, ..... . . 4 

452. The Sinner and the Saviour, 4 

453. The Sinner Believing, 4 

454. A Convenient Season, ....... 4 

455. The German Cripple, . . ' . . . . .16 

456. The Blacksmith's Wife, 4 

457. The Bible the Word of God, 4 

458. A Man overboard, 4 

459. The Eyes Opened, . . 4 

460. Destruction of the Inquisition at Madrid, ... 4 

461. The Missionary's Father. By Rev. William Goodell, . 4 

462. Sinners Welcome to Come to Christ. By Rev. A. Alexan- 
der, D. D., 16 

463. The Mother of St. Augustine, 8 

464. Counsel to the Convicted, 4 

465. Believest Thou? By Rev. Timothy Dwight, D. D., . 4 

466. The Way to Heaven. By President Edwards, ... 4 
t-i 467. Lost Convictions. By President Edwards, ... 4 

468. Friendly Suggestions to an Emigrant, .... 8 

469. Prayer for Ministers, ....... 4 

470. The Nature and Season of Repentance. By Rev. Thomas 

Chalmers, D. D., 20 

471. Memoir of Samuel F. Bradbury, 8 

472. Esau, or the Ruinous Bargain, 8 

473. The aged Sailor, 8 



^ 



IVo. 409. 



THE 



CHRISTIAN ABROAD 



A SUMMER EXCURSION. 




There is a charm about a summer trip which is quite 
independent of the mere power of fashion. "We are not all 
fashionable people, but we all like to break away from our 
ordinary occupations, and enjoy, at least once a year, a tem- 
per aiy change of scene. 

Were it not foreign to our design, it would be pleasant 
to inquire in what this charm consists. We could remark 
upon the renovated health and energy of body ; the expan- 
sion of mind and heart, growing out of new and diversified 
_ VOL. XI. 1* 



2 THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. 

occasions of thought and feelmg ; the interchanges of debt 
and credit on the score of hospitaHty ; and not least, the 
appreciation of home, by finding no such place abroad. But 
this brief sketch has quite another aim. It intends not to 
excite its readers to this summer pilgrimage, though it does 
ask the privilege of going with them ; more particularly, 
with those who " declare plainly, tha,t they seek a coun- 
try " — not on earth, but in heaven. 

It may, or may not be, that the pocket-library of the 
traveller contains sufficient detail as to the routes, the ex- 
penses, the rules and customs to be observed, the sights to 
be enjoyed, and the dangers to be shunned. Probably there 
is, by this time, counsel enough on the score of health, econ- 
omy, and expedition. But is there any treatise, large or 
small, which sets before the tourist the advantages and 
difficulties of the journey with reference to his eternal state ? 
The Christian knows, at least he must have heard, that in 
leaving his settled habits, and venturing into the whirl of 
travel, he is exposed to unusual danger in his spiritual 
prospects. This is the uniform and emphatic testimony of 
all who have tried it. A gentleman from South Carolina, 
who recently visited Philadelphia as a lay-delegate in an 
ecclesiastical body, stated to the writer, that the hurry and 
bustle which filled his eyes and ears, and the whole tenor 
of conversation around him, relating to no higher interests 
than those of money, pleasure, and politics, all combined to 
unfit him for his sacred duties, and almost disposed him to 
turn about, and travel home as rapidly as he came. On 
the other hand, there are special benefits to the Christian 
tourist, such as he only can enjoy, and such as he ought to 
be well apprised of, lest he lose them. 

We shall speak first of the dangers to be avoided, 
though desiring rather to dwell upon the other branch of the 
subject ; as it Avould be a thankless task to convert a jaunt 
for pleasure into a mere watching for "lions in the way," 



THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. 3 

and as a participation in the peculiar advantages will be 
the best means of setting all those dangers aside. 

1 . One source of danger is, that, as we go abroad avow- 
edly for relaxation of body and mind, we shall be inclined 
to extend the indulgence to our religious affections. The 
treacherous heart claims its share in the furlough, and will 
plead for a " breathing-spell " in the Christian warfare. It 
will ask for this on the ground of past labors ; of a previous 
autumn, winter, and spring, passed in spiritual exercises ; 
possibly on the ground of a cheering increase of personal 
holiness, as the fruit of this protracted warfare, or of a par- 
ticipation in the spirit of revival which has been enjoyed ; 
and, to crown the deceit, it will profess, that by a little re- 
mission of vigilance now, it will come home again, to gird 
on the armor with new strength and zeal. All this process 
of reasoning may be carried on with so much subtlety, that 
Avithout careful self-examination we should not suspect it to 
be at work in our own bosoms. But " the myster}^ of iniquity 
doth already work " in the bare prospect of our journey, and 
if not detected and overcome before we bid farewell to home, 
will quickly manifest itself in times and ways which we 
had not anticipated. 

If, then, we would have a fair start in our journey, 
there are two things to do before the passage is bespoken, 
or the trunk is packed. First, we should, with earnest 
confession and prayer to God, purge out this old leaven, and 
acquit ourselves of any treacherous intention. Then, with 
that abandonment of self-will which did honor to the ancient 
leader of the Israelites, we should say to our Father, " If 
thy presence go not with me, carry me not up hence." 
"VYith an humble, holy fixedness of soul, to decline to stir 
one step without the encouragement of his covenant God, 
and only to proceed when satisfied that he has it — this is 
the Christian's duty, privilege, passport, and earnest of all 
journeying mercies. Perhaps, in answer to this prayer, the 



4 THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. 

Lord will try him by a detention. If so, it will probably 
not be long before some signal providence, some proof of a 
divine and parental care, will bring him to his knees, ador- 
ing the mercy which kept him in his place. Or the prayer 
may be responded to, by pointmg out a better route of travel. 
By some indication or other, the sincere Christian will find 
his account in giving the whole direction to his heavenly 
Father ; starting out upon that basis, and adhering to it 
*' all the journey through." 

2. Whether the cross be wearisome to us or not, there 
is great danger that we shall be made ashamed of it. This 
mean, this heinous sin, which the worldling allows in him- 
self without a thought, and which embarrasses the Christian 
at all times, is never so likely to get the mastery, as when 
we are abroad. The reason is plain. When we are at 
home, we live and move among those who know our opin- 
ions and habits of life, and are willing to respect our feel- 
ings as professed Christians. But in travelling among 
strangers, we have to earn this character afresh ; and that 
as often as we change our company. We are surrounded 
by persons who have not seen us at the commmiion-table, 
or at church ; and if they had, might not regard us the more 
favorably for it. Those who are like-minded wdth us are too 
scarce to keep us in countenance by the mere force of num- 
bers. The followers of Christ are comparatively few, and 
very few of these can afford a summer recreation. Hence, 
it is never taken for granted, among fellow-travellers, that 
any one of the company is a pious person ; if there be one, 
the burden of proof lies upon him to show it. 

Conceive the effect, then, upon such an individual, shut 
up in a stage-coach, or boarding at a place of public resort, 
in the midst of persons who would color at the imputation 
of" piety, whatever they might pretend to on the score of 
respectability and morality. Is there not great reason to 
fear, that he will be led away from his integrity by the 



THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. 5 

noiseless, but powerful influences around him, all adverse 
to his faith ? Is there no fear that he may conceal his 
Christian profession, or at least be content that it should not 
be known ? While the rest are amusing themselves with 
novels and newspapers, will he be delighting himself in his 
Testament, or in Tracts, or in pious memoirs ? Will there 
appear in him an exception to the general gayety and haste 
with which the company sit down at table, by his pausing 
to give silent, but sincere thanks ? These and many other 
and more searching tests, will make him feel that he has 
need to be " strong in the Lord." They will sometimes 
cause him to revolve that solemn passage, " Whosoever is 
ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and 
sinful generation, of him will the Son of man be ashamed, 
when he shall come in his glory." Happy, indeed, Avill he 
be, if by grace he can habitually say, " I am not ashamed 
of the Gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto sal- 
vation." 

3. Another danger to be avoided is, that of falling into 
a selfish and fretful spirit. The WTiter does not assert it as 
a settled point, that travelling brings out, in an unwonted 
degree, this imbecoming and unchristian temper. He would 
rather take the occasion to invite the attention of others to 
the remark during their mtended trips. Be pleased to note 
particularly, whether politeness is not apt to be laid aside 
in public conveyances ; whether there is not too often a self- 
ish disregard for the accommodation of others, especially 
those whose exterior has nothing to recommend them ; 
whether there is not a great deal of unnecessary and child- 
ish complaint about detention, slow motion, and other way- 
faring incidents, which, instead of afTorduig ground for 
peevishness, might easily be turned into an occasion for 
pleasantry. Indeed, we shall hardly ask the trial of many 
days' journey, to justify our hint ; a ride of ten minutes in 
a city omnibus will often prove sufficient. 



6 THE CHRISTIAN ABRO.^. 

4. One more caution should be added, and that is, 
against worldliness ofinind. Christian traveller, rely upon 
it, you will be beset by an uncommon languor and disrelish 
towards spiritual duties. Without any thmg especially to 
draw you away, beyond the incessant change of company 
and scene, you will find your spirit often remarkably mifitted 
for devotion. You have been accustomed literally to enter 
into your closet, and shut the door. Now, your morning 
and evening prayers must be offered as you lie upon a nar- 
row shelf in a steamboat, disturbed by noisy machinery, and 
people in motion and conversation around you ; or perhaps 
in some chamber among other lodgers, who lie down and 
rise as if they knew no God. If ever you are in the ivorld, 
in the Scripture sense, it is now. You are thrown into the 
society of those who have lost all scruples about Sunday- 
travelling ; and you are compelled to see how many even 
lay their plans to spend that day upon the road. 

You fall m with many whose object is not so much to 
get out of the city, as to carry the city with them ; not to 
ramble in green fields, but to crowd mto halls of dancing 
and dissipation. You are now to witness what men are 
capable of, even the best of them, when the restraints of 
home and acquaintance are removed. And once more, you 
shall perceive how much it is the folly of summer tourists, 
that they must create an impression of their rank, or family, 
or wealth ; anxious to enjoy distinction, if it be only for a day. 
Against all these carnal influences we must brace ourselves. 
Let me afiectionately urge you, as I would my own soul, to 
maintain such a disposition for heavenly delights as shall 
enable you, at any moment, to read the third chapter of 
Colossians, or the twelfth of Romans, without repugnance — 
rather with positive pleasure. Take a calm survey of all 
the tinselled glory which glitters around you, and then say, 
" God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of Jesus 
Christ." 



THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. 7 

We have thus ofiered some cautions which were deemed 
indispensable : let us proceed to the more pleasing task of 
explaining what are the peculiar advantages which the 
Christian may derive from his summer tour. Travelling 
ailbrds many pleasures wliich are common to all ; but there 
are still others, into which the earthly mind cannot, or will 
not enter, and which can be appreciated only by the re- 
newed heart. Our present scope includes merely these 
peculiar benefits. 

1 . An excellent opportunity offers for 'piou?, meditation. 
How often we have regretted the want of time to dwell 
upon some striking passage of Scripture — some incident in 
the Saviour's life. How often we have just entered into an 
interesting train of thought, and then, through pressure of 
other engagements, have been obliged, as it were, to lay it 
on the shelf, intending to take it down, and dwell upon it 
at some future moment of leisure. That leisure moment 
has come. Hours and days are now before us, in which we 
shall have scarce any thing to do but think, and in which 
we must be thinking of soinetliing. Let us not suffer a va- 
grant imagination to rob us of this favorable juncture — this 
time for " redeeming time." Let us get our spirits strength- 
ened by thoroughly digesting some of the vital truths of our 
religion. Let us look back, and review all the way in 
which the Lord has led us. Let us test the point, whether 
our former postponements of reflection were really for want 
of leisure, or for want of heart. 

2. Occasions will be constantly offering for getting spir- 
itual good from something exterior to us. Communion with 
our own hearts will form but a small part of our opportu- 
nity for improvement. Thus, when we behold the amazing 
diversities of creation — the mountain, the cataract, the 
boundless forest, the agitated ocean — ^^we shall enjoy the 
pleasure — of which the worldly mind knows nothing — of 
recognizing our Father's mighty hand in all ; and we shall 



8 THE CHRISTIAN ABROAB 

be reminded that his power is as great as his love. Farther, 
we shall sometimes discover in a fellow-traveller, a fellow- 
Christian. This will give a new exercise to our best aflec- 
tions ; and it may occur at a moment when such a discovery- 
would be particularly needful and desirable. "What a 
strange pleasure it is, to meet a beloved friend in some 
out-of-the-way place where we could have no such expec- 
tation. It is not an inferior satisfaction to find out a fel- 
low-disciple, although it may be only in the features of his 
soul that we can recognize an acquaintance. Once more, 
we shall enjoy the pleasing excitement of worshipping in 
novel circumstances, in the plain, old-fashioned, and simple 
way ; and there learn how unimportant to heartfelt devo- 
tion are the mere externals which attract our senses. Our 
feet may be led to some rude school-house, or upper cham- 
ber, or humble cottage, where we shall find a praying circle, 
and our Saviour "in the midst of them, to bless them." 

3. The last especial benefit we shall mention is, the 
peculiar privilege of going about to do good ; the same that 
resulted from the dispersion of the infant church, as record- 
ed in the eighth chapter of Acts. " They that were scat- 
tered abroad, went everywhere preaching the word." Breth- 
ren, when our hearts have been warmed, as we united at 
the monthly concert, or listened to some parting words at a 
farewell missionary meeting, have we not felt that it was 
truly a godlike embassy to carry salvation to the destitute ? 
Have we not, in the ardor of fellow-feeling, been almost 
ready to embark in the same ship with those devoted sol- 
diers of the cross, and go far hence to the Gentiles ? See 
here an opportunity to act out our benevolent desires, and 
become coworkers with such brethren. In plain terms, if it 
please God not to send us from home as invalids, let us go 
as missionaries. Let us have the pleasure of feeling, when 
we come back, that our travelling expenses were a legiti- 
mate contribution to the great cause of Christian missions • 



THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. C> 

and that we have each " s.upiDorted one laborer in the field." 
So doing, we shall be most likely to prosper in health, both 
of body and soul. We shall have the best security, under 
God, against the various dangers to which we may be ex- 
posed. And we shall come back — it may be for the first 
time — more spiritual, more animated, more fitted for useful- 
ness, than we went. 

But in what particular ways can we carry out this pur- 
pose ? 

1. We should take with us a good supply of religious 
Tracts ; and if it will not be too cumbrous, let us add a 
package of children's books, and cheap Testaments, or other 
volumes. They will serve as letters of introduction to some 
households, straitened in every thing but faith ; and will 
afford us an excuse for entering other dwellings, where the 
inmates are destitute alike of the poor comforts of this life, 
and of the solid hopes of the life to come. These little 
publications will be better received and appreciated in coun- 
try places, than in cities and large towns ; where, if they 
are not made too cheap, they are but too cheaply esteemed. 
By all means, then, let us visit the Tract depository before 
we go, and arm ourselves with a good assortment. Let us 
break up the useless and inglorious repose of invaluable 
publications resting on their shelves. Let us consider, pro- 
spectively, the poor drunkard, swearer, Sabbath-breaker, in- 
fidel, or Universalist, we shall meet ; and let us lay in store 
some "words in season" for the encouragement and warn- 
ing of fellow-Christians whom we hope to find out. 

2. Whenever we stay over the Sabbath, we should 
make it a point to vi^it the Sabbath-school, if there be 
one. It will be pleasing to the teachers, and animating 
to the scholars, to see a stranger taking an interest in 
their little institution ; and in proportion to the rarity of 
the event, will be the strength of this good impression. 
In fact, the attention one inspires from the mere circum- 

VOL. XI. 2 



10 THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. 

stance of his being a stranger, is a talent which he ought 
not to overlook, and whicli he may often turn to good ac- 
count. 

If there be no Sabbath-school, it will be well to consider 
whether we may not be instrumental in establisldng one. 
Certainly we could not better employ the leisure of a day 
or two ; and if, upon inquiry, the opening seem favorable 
in any hitherto neglected region through which we may be 
passing, it would be justifiable, no doubt, to arrest our trav- 
elling plans, and taiTy for a brief season, on purpose to sup- 
ply the destitution. Often we may find the material in 
such readiness that there wants nothing but the exciting 
cause of a visit from an active stranger to set the machine 
in lively and enduring motion. Your Sabbath-school, thus 
planted, and fostered by your after-care, may lay the fomi- 
dation for a church ; a result not at all unlikely or uncom- 
mon. And should it please God to crown your labors even 
with a moderate blessing, you will know of one place where 
you can go when another summer rolls around, and be sure 
of meeting a joyful welcome. 

3. Let us find our way into tlbe houses of the jjoor. 
Such a visit will be an epoch in their " short and simple 
annals ;" especially if it be made in a Christian spirit. 
The writer is reminded of an incident related to him by a 
lady who made a short sojourn at a country retreat famed 
for its beauteous sceneiy and cool breezes, and forming 
a great centre of attraction in warm weather. As her 
custom was, she called at a lowly cabin not far from the 
hotel, and found there an aged woman engaged about her 
household duties. It required only the adroitness of kind- 
ness to banish her timidity and surprise at receiAring a visit 
from one entirely unknown to her, and evidently above her 
sphere in life. At the close of an interesting conversation, 
she made this remark : " Madam, I have lived many years 
at this place, and have seen a great many people coming 



THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD. H 

here to enjoy themselves ; but you are the first one that ever 
entered my door." 

It is too late to ask, in this age of Christian activity, 
what object we have in making such visits. It is to em- 
ploy our opportunity of exciting attention from the mere 
fact of our being strangers ; and to make it a means of im- 
pressing their minds with the truths necessary to their sal- 
vation. Our blessed Master remarked how much more he 
was noticed and listened to in strange places than at home. 
We can present Tracts to them ; we can comfort their sick ; 
we can unite with them in prayer ; we can tell them of the 
progress of religion where we came from, and in all parts 
of the earth ; in fine, Vv'e can give them more matter to 
think about, and profitably too, in an hour's conversation, 
than they Avould perhaps collect in a month with their 
scanty opportunities. 

After all, it is but a few hints we can offer on this com- 
prehensive subject. The heart that really intends to keep 
its covenant with the Redeemer, will devise many ways 
and means for doing good. We have only to add one re- 
mark to justify the ground assumed — that the Christian 
tourist enjoys a peculiar benefit, in his opportunity for 
blessing others. The peculiarity is found in these two 
points : first, that the traveller who is not a Christian, will 
only have the gratification of self in view, and will scout 
the idea of taking an excursion for any other end ; the other 
is, that there is an enlarging of the sphere of effort for the 
child of God, making him feel that he is a laborer not only 
for his own corner, but for the world of mankind, as far 
abroad as divme Providence may send him. If the arch- 
fiend finds it his policy to go about seekmg whom he may 
devour, there must be a peculiar necessity of following in 
his wake, to undo his wicked work. 

Fellow-Christian, you have been kind enough to accom- 



12 THE CHRISTIAN ABROAD 

pany the writer thus far : come now with me, and let us, 
by a stretch of imagination, place ourselves upon some lofty 
watch-tower, whence we can see our great cities, from 
Boston to New Orleans, sending forth their inhabitants in 
crowds to enjoy the refreshment of a summer trip. Among 
them let us particularly observe our brethren, who perhaps 
are but scores among the thousands. In former times they 
have borne the reproach, that when abroad they could 
not easily be distinguished from the Avorld. Now let us 
mark the difference. They are going, indeed, in quest of 
enjoyment ; but it is a generous, not a selfish gratification 
that they seek. They go for health ; they find it in forget- 
ting their ailments, and losing them unconsciously by the 
roadside, Avhile doing good to others. They go for relaxa- 
tion ; but it is from the iron cares of worldly business, and 
not from pious zeal. They go to carry a revival with 
them ; to scatter, and yet increase ; to leave a blessing, and 
to bring one back. Let us go down and join them in bear- 
ing the precious seed ; and shall we not " return again, 
bringing our sheaves with us ?" 



IVo. 410, 

MEMOIR 

OF 

ANNA MARY ADAMS. 

A MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS. 



In this memoir of a beloved child, we aim not to eulo- 
gize her personal merits, closely as they entwined her in 
our affections, but desire that her brief history may illus- 
trate the unsatisfying- nature of earthly pursuits, the serious 
importance of vital religion, and that it may open to the 
view of some, that complete redemption, which, as she 
proved, can only be obtained through the atoning merits of 
a crucified and risen Saviour. May her deep conflicts, her 
ardent supplications, and victory obtained over death and 
sin, teach survivors the preparation necessary to an admit- 
tance into that kingdom Avhere no impurity can enter. 

She was born at M , Ulster Co., N. Y., in 1813, 

and her dehcate constitution subjected her to repeated at- 
tacks of severe illness in early life. As maturer years ad- 
vanced, her health improved; but at the age of 21, there 
appeared some disposition to a cough, from which she was 
never permanently relieved. 

In the spring of 1837, that disease which was inwoven 
with her constitution again displayed itself in an inflamma- 
tory form, and was at length followed by expectoration of 
blood. These symptoms led her to feel that her days were 
numbered, and that the period of her dissolution could not 
be very remote, the view of which awakened her to a sense 
of the value of the intervening moments ; but she evinced 
no disposition to murmur at the dispensations of Providence, 
knowing that they were ordered in wisdom, and that pa- 
tient resignation was the proper disposition in which to re- 
ceive them. 

Relief, however, was obtained, and it was not until 
about the 25th of the first month, 1838, that we again 
called a physician. She was then confined to her room, 

VOL. XI. 2* 



2 MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 

and was the subject of much bodily as well as mental suf- 
fering ; yet she endured all without complaining, even 
though she spent many hours of darkness in tearful solici- 
tude for her future w^ell-being. 

She lingered thus for several months, and on the 22nd 
of tenth month, when the disease assumed a more formida- 
ble aspect, and her debility increased to an almost insup- 
portable degree, relinquished the hope of recovery. On 
the morning of the 23d, she proposed to me the serious 
inquiry, "Dost thou think that I shall get well?" Without 
waiting for a reply, she said, "I think I shall not get well, 
but shall die," I expressed the hope that she might be 
prepared for all the will of God concerning her. She re- 
sponded, " I hope so too ; and, dear mother, do not leave 
me, but stay and pray for me, that I may go triumphantly 
home to heaven, giving the glory to God." Her mental 
exercises during that day evinced close searching of heart, 
and as I was reading for her in the 68th Psalm of the safety 
of God's people, she exclaimed with animation, " Mother, 
I hope that will be my case." I expressed a wish in uni- 
son with hers. Towards evening she w^as requested to take 
a little nourishment, Avhich she declined ; and upon my 
repeating the request to take a little bread, she answered, 
" No, mother, no more bread, until I eat it new in the 
Jcinc/dom of heaven.^' 

From that time her conflict was great ; and so potent 
were the wiles of the enemy, that for several hours she felt 
as though she was abandoned to his power, insomuch that 
she remarked that she could not think a good thought ; 
and amidst her struggles against his influence, she w^ould 
sometimes exclaim, " 0, that enemy of my soul's peace, 
how he troubles me !" I endeavored to encourage her by 
displaying the mercy of the promises, all of wiiich she 
heard Avith attention, and appeared anxious to catch each 
Avord. 

She manifested much pleasure in listening to the read- 
ing of the holy Scriptures, the contents of wiiich aftbrded 
consolation amidst the severity of suffering in which she 
seemed involved ; and, indeed, she requested the perusal 
of no other book, feeling that they alone contained the 
precepts of a compassionate Redeemer for his erring chil- 
dren. 



MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 3 

A relative, whom she seemed pleased to see, called 
upon her. She exhorted him so to live as to rejoin her in 
heaven, if she should be so happy as to arrive there. When 
her physician called to see her, she said to him, "Thou 
hast come too late," and solemnly exhorted him to prepare 
to meet her in a future state of existence, and not defer 
that preparation until laid on a bed of sickness, for then he 
would find it sufficient to endure his bodily pains ; but 
added with emphasis those beautiful lines, 

" Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel sofl as downy pillows are, 
While on his breast I lean my head, 
And breathe my life out sweetly there." 

After giving much pertinent and Aveighty counsel to 
those about her, she desired me to read for her ; which be- 
ing done, her attention was particularly arrested by that 
passage in Isaiah, '' A bruised reed shall he not break, and 
the smoking flax shall he not quench : he shall bring forth 
judgment unto truth." She requested my views of its 
meaning, which when given in a conversation on the majes- 
tic theme of salvation through the mediation and atoning 
merits of a crucified Redeemer, she seemed convinced that 
it had a particular allusion to her state ; yet, in the over- 
whelming consciousness of her own worthlessness, she 
exclaimed, "Can it be possible that there is mercy for 
such a sinner as I am !" Again she requested me to pray 
with her, which feeling happy to do, I knelt by her bed- 
side, and united my intercessions with hers, earnestly im- 
ploring that her spirit might find access through the pearly 
gates, and be clad in the white robe of righteousness, which 
is the vesture of the saints. She expressed some relief; 
but repeatedly exclaimed with emphasis, " 0, the pearly 
gates ! 0, the white robe !" and added, " Happy conflict 
when it is over ; but can it be possible that I shall ever at- 
tain to it ?" and frequently was she engaged in ardent sup- 
plications, though her gracious Redeemer still in some de- 
gree veiled his countenance from her. 

As night advanced, her suff'erings and conflicts contin- 
ued ; and apprehending that her end was near, her father 
and myself were called, and she expressed a wish to have 
us around her in this hour of trial. I endeavored to com- 



4 MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 

fort her by an allusion to the preservation of ancient Israel 
in the wilderness, and the all-supporting hand that divided 
the waters of Jordan, and led them safely through ; and 
requested her to understand the illustration as applicable 
to her own condition. She assented. I then desired her 
to keep her feet firm through faith, to fix her eye on the 
divine and merciful Redeemer, and to reap encouragement 
from the promises, repeating at the same time those con- 
soling passages : " When thou passest through the waters, 
I will be with thee ; and through the rivers, thsy shall not 
overflow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou 
shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon 
thee." " Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou art with me, 
thy rod and thy staff", they comfort me." When she heard 
these words, she ejaculated, " gracious God, be near and 
support me in the very bottom of Jordan ; quench the vio- 
lence of fire, and be with me through the valley and shadow 
of death ; for thou hast promised that thou wilt never leave 
nor forsake me." 

Still her spirit was tossed by conflicting doubts and 
fears, and in the midst of her mental agony she desired me 
to inquire of her father, w^ho had retired, whether he be- 
lieved there was any mercy for her ; and again she wished 
me to ask him if he thought that God would accept such a 
■wretch as she. Upon his replying that he could not ques- 
tion her acceptance wnth God, she appeared encouraged to 
a perseverance in earnest intercessions for mercy and for- 
giveness, which she continued almost without intermission. 
After a short pause she said, and more than once repeated, 
** Dear mother, I see Jesus hanging on the cross, and the 
blood trickling down for poor sinners ;" and then exclaimed, 
*' 0, for one drop of that precious blood, to cleanse my im- 
mortal soul and fit it for the realms of peace !" Her nurse, 
fearing that her exertions would exceed her strength, de- 
sired her to seek repose. She replied that she dared not 
sleep, lest she shauld lose the blissful vision. When I de- 
sired her to persevere, and let the fire burn, she answered, 
"Yes, let the fire burn, and do its office." These and 
other consoling evidences of the regard of her heavenly 
Father tended to animate her drooping spirits, and fix her 
reliance on the power and mediatorial offices of her bleed- 



MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 5 

ing Saviour, whose mercy she had ah-eady proved in his 
deahngs towards her. 

Fourth- day morning she was comfortable in mind, 
though she had not yet the assurance which she so ar- 
dently desired, of "the establishment of her feet on the 
Rock of ages." And for the attainment of this object, she 
continued fervent in supplication, scarcely allowing repose 
to her exhausted frame. In a conversation which followed, 
respecting the events of her past life, she alluded to some 
degree of censure she had received, signifying that on her 
dying bed, and in the presence of God, she could declare 
her innocence ; and adding, " I wish my dying love given 
to them ; and tell them that I forgive, and exhort them to 
repent and prepare to die, that they may meet me in 
heaven." 

Thus she sought reconciliation Avith her heavenly Fa- 
ther, craving for others that spirit of forgiveness which her 
merciful Saviour had extended to her. A happy compo- 
sure of spirit succeeded, which remained during the day ; 
and in this peaceful frame of mind, those beautiful and 
comprehensive lines of the pious Watts were applicable to 
her condition. 

" Yet, gracious God, amid these storms of nature, 
Thine eyes behold a sweet and sacred calm 
Reign through the realms of conscience : all within 
Lies peaceful, all composed. - 'Tis wondrous grace 
Keeps off thy terrors from this humble bosom : 
Though stained with sin and follies, yet serene 
In penitential peace and cheerful hope, 
Sprinkled and guarded with atoning blood. 
Thy vital smiles amidst this desolation, 
Like heavenly sunbeams hid behind the clouds, 
Break out in happy moments, Avith bright radiance 
Cleaving the gloom ; the fair celestial light 
Softens and gilds the horrors of the storm, 
And richest cordials to the heart conveys." 

With great composure she divided her clothes, books, 
etc., amongst her relatives and friends, frequently raising 
her hands and eyes in silent devotion. Two of her friends 
calling to see her, she requested them to pray that her 
spirit might have an easy transition to its heavenly home. 
At evening, being much distressed, she again interceded 



6 MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 

for strength : " Gracious God, be near and support me in 
my deep afflictions ; thou hast promised to go with me 
through the valley and shadow of death. 0, thou beloved 
of my soul, thou knowest that I long to depart and be with 

Christ r 

She passed the night in much suffering and frequent in- 
tercessions, recounting the goodness of her God, and giving 
thanks for his long forbearance, saying, " If he had cut me 
off in my sins, where should I have been ? but now I 
can adopt the language of the Psalmist, and say, 'The 
Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want ;' ' blessed be his 
glorious name.' " She seemed grateful for every pain, 
blessing the Lord that in the midst of suffering he had 
diffused the brightness of his countenance upon her whilst 
in the land of the living. 

Fifth-day morning her strength was much prostrated, 
though her ardor remained unabated ; and when her father 
strove to comfort her by reminding her of her past obe- 
dience and respect to her parents, she replied, " Dear fa- 
ther, do not tell me that I have ever done any thing good ; 
I have been very remiss, have departed from plainness, 
have attended parties when I knew better, and by my sins 
I have pierced my soul with many sorrows." During the 
day, three of her brothers and a sister-in-law came to see 
her, whom she met with admirable composure, desiring 
them to restrain their grief, lest it should disturb her seren- 
ity, while her tranquil movements and tearless eye bespoke 
her resignation to the divine will. 

At another time she exclaimed with rapture, " Dear 
mother, I rejoice to tell thee that all is light and peace ;" 
adding, " I am ready to depart and be \vith Christ, and am 
only waiting the Lord's time." I desired directions respect- 
ing her grave-clothes, to which she seemed quite indifferent. 
Upon m}^ mentioning the probability of her having a choice, 
she replied with a pleasant look, " Dear mother, it is no 
matter about the poor body, but the precious soul — that's 
all," repeating with emphasis, ''that's all." She only de- 
sired her clothes made plain. 

She took leave of us all in the most touching manner, 
imparting excellent counsel to all about her ; her heart 
seemed replete Avith universal love ; and she desired her 
dying love remembered to all her absent friends. She 



MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 7 

several times spoke of the solemnities of the hour of death, 
saying that she had often contemplated the scene as she 
believed it would appear in her last moments, and then 
expressed the fear that she should shrink at the prospect 
of the narrow sea; and desired our prayers for her easy 
passage, repeating with earnestness, " Dear mother, pray 
for me, that I may be supported in the hour of death." 

A little after, she said, " Oh, I long to depart and be 
with Christ. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, and take 
me to thyself; thou knowest that I love thee." She fre- 
quently clasped her hands in ardent devotion, saying, 
" Glory, glory, glory !" a^id asked if we did not think her 
dying. When she found we did not, she evinced patient 
resignation to the will of God. 

About 3 o'clock on the following morning it appeared 
evident to those around her that her spirit was about to 
take its final leave of earth ; and when the family was 
called, and stood around her, she raised her voice in an 
angelic strain, repeating, " Glory to God ; I am now going 
home to Jesus: glory to God!" adding, "whilst you are 
toiling here on earth, I shall be praising my Redeemer ;" 
" you all know what to do as well as I can tell you." 

A little after, she said, ''Is this dying?" Her father 
replied, "Yes, dear daughter, this is dying." She contin- 
ued, "Am I not almost over?" "Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly, and take me to thyself." "Heavenly Father, 
thou knowest that I love thee." When her expiring 
strength seemed to forbid her speaking, she repeatedly 
ejaculated, " Glory, glory, glory !" and thrice whilst the 
lamp of life seemed near extinguished, she raised her own 
trembling hands and closed her eyes ; soon after which she 
audibly uttered, " Alpha and Omega," and then, without 
sigh or struggle, on the 26th of tenth month, 1838, about 
7 o'clock A. M., in the 26th year of her age, quietly sunk 
to rest in the arms of that Saviour in whom she trusted. 

Thus we were called to part with one whose opening 
prospects bade fair for the enjoyment of life. Surrounded 
by the most endearing ties of parental and relative affec- 
tion, and united to a large circle of friends and acquaint- 
ances, she felt that it was no easy attainment to disengage 
her aftections from earth, and secure the protection of a 
Mediator who has personally vanquished, in all its forms. 



8 MEMOIR OF ANNA MARY ADAMS. 

that bane of life which has been emphatically called " the 
sting of death." 

And though, for the trial of her faith and patience, her 
Saviour saw fit to veil his face, and appear to her trembling 
spirit as he did to ancient Israel in the thunderings of Sinai, 
yet when he had sufficiently proved her constancy, he 
whispered " peace " to the winds, and bade the waves of 
sorrow cease. It was then that her heart melted in pity 
for those who are strenuously rejecting the offers of re- 
deeming love, and are reposing their trust in the towers of 
an empty profession, without considering that there is but 
one " Door " by which they can have access to the Father, 
and an admission into the gates of paradise. And it was 
then that she so ardently desired that they might seek the 
knowledge requisite to their eternal happiness, and secure 
the approbation of heaven, ere the visitations from on high 
had ceased, and the sun of their existence set in the dark- 
ness of eternal night. She spent her dying breath in ex- 
hortations to seek Him who never "said to the seed of 
Jacob, seek ye me in vain." 

Let us be consoled with the evidence that our loss is 
her eternal gain, and that by a patient continuance in well- 
doing we shall, ere long, reap the reward, if we faint not, 
and partake with her the joys of that rest into which she 
has entered but a little before us ; and may we ascribe all 
praise to whom it is due, even honor and glory to the Lord 
God, and the Lamb for ever. 



'lIRr.lSllKD BY TMF. a:MER1CAN TRACT SOCIKTV. 



No. 411 



THE 



FIRST PRAYER IN THE FAMILY. 



In S , about twenty-five years ago, lived the father 

of an interesting family, who, by a blessing on his well- 
directed endeavors, had become one of the most prosper- 
ous of the enterprising yeomanry of New England. He 
was a man of public spirit, supporting the institutions of 
learning and religion ; presenting himself with his numerous 
family regularly in the house of God ; a good citizen, and 
with no stain upon his reputation ; but the prospects of 
himself and his family for eternity, he did not consider. 

When he was a little more than fifty, finding that his 
neighbors were much interested in religious meetings then 
held, he one evening w^as induced to attend. " Prai/ with- 
out ceasing,'" was the subject of discourse ; and after show- 
ing its reasonableness, and the encouragements to the duty, 
the preacher, in a strain of earnest remonstrance, said, 
"There is an impenitent sinner here to-night. I will de- 
scribe him. He arose in the morning and did not pray. He 
has asked no blessing for his own soul, or for his friends, 
to-day. He has come to this meeting, but he has not 
prayed that it might be blessed to his own soul. 0, if he 
should ever become a good man, the first record respecting 
him would be, 'Behold, he prayeth' " 

Plain, unadorned, as were the matter and the manner 
of the speaker, they deeply afi"ected this man. He thought 
himself singled out, and that every word was for him. His 
prayerless life troubled him. Why he had lived so, w^hen 
the Bible was so plain on the subject, and the duty so rea- 
sonable, and the way so easy, he could not tell. He at 
once determined to try. Before he reached his home, 
though the earth was covered with snow, and the wind 
blowing, he knelt, in a retired place, and attempted to call 
upon God for mercy. 

It was new and strange business for him to pray. The 

VOL, XI, 3 



2 THE FIRST PRAYER IN THE FAMILY. 

attempt taught him useful lessons respecting the condition 
of his heart. He found there were evils there which he 
had never imagined. More than once previous to reaching 
home, he attempted to ask ixirdon for his past life, and 
hel-p for time to come. But there seemed to be a wall of 
sin between him and his Maker. For some days he tried 
to make himself better, and learn to pray ; but like Bun- 
yan's pilgrim in the slough of Despond, the more he strug- 
gled the deeper he sunk. 

After various expedients, in reading, in fasting, and 
trying to pray, he at length came to the conclusion that it 
was too late for him — that he had sinned beyond the limit 
of mercy. With this impression, he went one day into his 
barn, and engaged in his work, with his mind very much 
dejected. He was threshing wheat, and meditating upon 
his lost condition, his wasted years, his having cast off the 
fear of God, and restrained prayer. He thought that he 
was having all his good things in this life. While he in 
heaviness was thus reflecting upon his sins, the text, " My 
son, give me thine heart," occurred to him. Can it be, 
that God makes such a requisition as this ? He knows what 
a heart I have, how hard, how polluted, how unfit for life, 
or for death, and yet he says, " Give me thine heart." 
What can he want of my heart? He wants it to make it 
good, to create it anew, to wash it in the blood of Christ, 
and make it a temple meet for the residence of his Spirit. 
"I dropped m}^ flail," said he, *' and prostrating myself 
upon the straw, I said, Lord, if thou canst accept of such 
a heart as mine, here it is. I gi\e myself, just I am, a 
poor, vile sinner." 

So wonderful did the plan of salvation now appear to 
him, so new, so suited to the condition of the /o.sY, that it 
seemed to him he had spent all his life in the dark, and he 
was affected to tears that nobody had ever explained to 
him the way of salvation. But even after this, some days 
passed before he informed his wife and children of any 
chanore in his feelings. 

It was very soon impressed upon his mind, that he must 
■pray in his family. Here was a great struggle. His chil- 
dren were now from twelve to twenty years of age, and 
the older ones much better educated than himself. They 
had be<'n abroad to the best schools, while from his neg- 



THE FIRST PRAYER IN THE FAMILY. 3 

lected youth, his mind was but httle cultivated. He was 
naturally diffident, and the tempter now made violent as- 
saults upon that amiable trait in his character. His chil- 
dren conversed respecting grammar and rhetoric, and the 
elegances of refined conversation with occasional criticisms 
upon the language and pronunciation in common use. How 
could he pray before them ? 

Many days passed, and his mental agony increased. At 
times duty seemed plain, and then again his want of quali- 
fications seemed more plain. He resolved that he w^ould 
commence family prayer on a given day. The period ar- 
rived, but company w^as present, and his plans were de- 
feated. It was then postponed to another, but difficulties 
only increased. These conflicts were, to this time, shut 
up in his own bosom, he had not disclosed them even to 
his wife. From reason and revelation it seemed plainly his 
duty to pray w^th his family, and he had fearful apprehen- 
sions lest his should be found among the " families that 
call not on His name." 

One Sabbath, he was determined that he would make 
a beginning. He thought it would be a good time, and 
endeavored to store his mind with expressions and passages 
of Scripture, and petitions he heard in the sanctuary, and 
hoped that he might succeed. The evening w^as passing 
away, his children one after another retired, and he and 
his wife were left together. Then, for the first time, he 
disclosed to her the trial which agitated his bosom. .He 
proposed to pray with her. He arose, took his position by 
his chair, and said, " Our Father which art in heaven." It 
was the first exclamation that ever fell from his lips, as a 
social address to the object of worship. He repeated it 
again. Not another word did he say. He still stood in 
the attitude of devotion ; it seemed to him as though his 
mind went out — such a darkness came over him. He burst 
into a flood of tears, and sat down. His wife wept with 
him. It was a moment of torturing anguish. His wife 
retired, and he took the Bible. In his reading, he came to 
this passage, " But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy 
closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Fa- 
ther which is in secret ; and thy Father, which seeth in secret, 
shall reward thee openly." The thought occurred to him, 
that he must pray in secret for aid to pray in his family. 



4 THE FIRST PRAYER IN THE FAmLY. 

This was the meaning of '^reward thee oijenly.'''' He had 
been reading and meditating, and seeking qualifications to 
lead his family devotions, but he had not made it a subject 
of special prayer in his closet, that he might be enabled to 
pray in his family. 

He knelt at once, and spread before "his Father who 
seeth in secret," his desires. The dark cloud seemed to 
break away. God could help him, though so weak in him- 
self. The next morning, before engaging in any other ser- 
vice, he hastened to his closet and earnestly plead for aid 
in conducting his family devotions. He came from that 
retirement, and asked all his children to be assembled. He 
said first to his wife, " I have a confession to make to you — 
you have never heard me pray. I have lived fifty years 
and have never prayed in my family." Addressing his 
children, he said, " Will you forgive your father for neg- 
lecting to pray with you. I am verily guilty, for I ought 
to have prayed with you from your earliest infancy. God 
has required it, and it is a most reasonable duty. Will you 
forgive me ?" He then took the Bible, and read the fifty- 
first Psalm. " Have mercy upon me, God ; according to 
the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgres- 
sions," etc. He then said, ''Let us pray to God, that he 
may forgive us." 

In speaking of that hour, he said, " How delightful it 
seemed to come to God with my family. I could have 
prayed all day. I never loved my wife and children so 
well before. I thought of them as immortal beings. That 
they had souls seemed a new consideration to me ; and 
from that moment, I had not only a new degree of happi- 
ness in my family, but a new and more interesting kind of 
enjoyment than ever before." In relating this to the writer, 
some years afterwards, he remarked, "I have ever since, in 
my prayers in the closet, asked for help to pray in my 
family." 

Some happy years passed over that household, and the 
father went to join the blessed " dead that die in the Lord." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



j¥o. 413, 



THE 



SINNER CONDEMNED ALREADY 



That such as die without repentance will not be able 
to stand in the judgment, is denied by few who receive the 
Bible as a revelation fr.om God. Many who cannot be per- 
suaded to forsake their sins, are yet free to acknowledge, 
that if they continue in tlieir present condition until death, 
they will be doomed to hopeless misery. So the Bible 
everywhere teaches. " The ungodly shall not stand in the 
judgment." " Who shall be punished with everlasting de- 
struction." 

But it teaches more. It not merely declares what shall 
he, when the judgment is set and the books are opened ; it 
anticipates the decisions of the final day, and pronounces 
sentence of condemnation even 7ioiv, upon every unbeheving 
and impenitent sinner. It pronounces him guilty, and tells 
him plainly, that the wrath of God, as a mighty mountain, 
rests upon his soul in the present world, before he has had 
a hearing at the judgment-day. "He that believeth not, 
is condemned already,'^ 

The state of the sinner is not that of one who is merely 
suspected of crime, but whose guilt has not been estab- 
lished. Nor is it that of one who is arraigned, awaiting 
the investigation wiiich may ascertain his criminality and 
consign him to punishment, or may establish his innocence 
and send him back to freedom. Before one thus arraigned 
can be sentenced, witnesses must be summoned, testimony 
in his favor must be heard, and his guilt be incontrovertibly 
proved. But in this light, unrepenting sinner, the Bible 
does not contemplate you. You are already arraigned and 
convicted. The sentence of condemnation has gone forth 
from the lips of Him who is to be the judge of the world : 

VOL. XI. 3* 



2 THE SINNER CONDEMNED ALREADY. 

*' Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things 
written in the book of the law to do them." 

Look again at the nature of that deliverance which 
believers are said to experience. " There is, therefore, now 
no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus." 
" Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being 
made a curse for us." The state of the behever before his 
deliverance was that of condemnation. There is no admis- 
sion of his innocence. On the contrary, the act of pardon 
itself assumes his guilt. It tells him unequivocally, that 
without forgiveness he is undone ; that " the wrath of God 
abideth on him ;" that there is before him a " fearful look- 
ing for of judgment and fiery indignation." God's sys- 
tem of grace abates nothing from the fearfulness of the 
unpardoned sinner's condition. Whatever is true of those 
who are in Christ Jesus, it is not true of you Avho have 
slighted the Sa\dour, that you are free from condemnation ; 
no, the frowning eye of God is upon you, as a criminal. 
On the list of the condemned, you are reserved for the 
officer of justice, to be led forth, at the time appointed, to 
execution. 

0, sinner, how appalling is your situation. You have 
not even the poor alleviation of looking forward to the 
close of a protracted life, before the sentence can be exe- 
cuted upon you. When the convicted criminal has received 
his sentence from the lips of the judge, no principle of 
justice is violated, though he be carried at once from the 
place of trial to the place of execution. It is true, in 
Christian communities, some delay of da3's, or weeks, is 
usually allotted to the criminal after he is doomed to death. 
But this is the mercy of the court. No claim of justice 
can be set up. Justice has condemned him to death. 
How then can it plead for delay ? And what should hinder 
the immediate execution of the sentence upon the trans- 
gressor of God's law ? His guilt is no longer to be ascer- 
tained. The crime is fastened upon him. Yes, sinner, 
and that sentence is executed, in thousands of cases, sud- 
denly. No sickness admonishes of approaching death. 



THE SINNER CONDEMNED ALREADV. 3 

The convicted criminal may be full of life and gayety, exe- 
cuting his plans of business or pleasure, when lo, the death- 
warrant grates upon his ear. He is claimed as a victim. 
The justice he has outraged can no longer sleep. 

Such is the sudden death of a sinner. It is an execu- 
tion. It is not the kind, the sudden summoning away to his 
rest of the Christian, w^orn out in the service of his Master. 
To the Christian, death is infinite gain, whether he come 
to his grave after protracted sickness, or by a flash of 
lightning. Whenever and however his spirit is separated 
from the body, it is " present with the Lord." It is but 
escaping unexpectedly from his sins — an early victory 
granted him by his gracious Lord, before he could hope to 
find the notes of triumph breaking from his lips. But how 
different is it to the condemned sinner. He has lived by 
indulgence. The hand of justice has been stayed. His 
sudden removal terminates the period of forbearance, and 
executes upon him the sentence. Such an event may fill 
us with alarm, but it is no mystery. It is not a reversal of 
the rio-hteous order of trial and then execution, but carry- 
ing into effect the doom already pronounced. The only 
mystery is, that his sins have not sooner brought upon him 
exemplary punishment. 

But let me not be thought to awaken groundless fore- 
bodings of wrath to come. Blessed be God, there is a way 
of escape. Yes, though a prisoner under sentence of death, 
you are "a prisoner of hope." Tlie sentence which binds 
you to death, is not irreversible. 

True, you cannot look to a higher tribunal, or hope that 
the claims of the law will be disregarded. Neither of these 
is possible. Your guilt has been established, and the law 
which condemns you is holy, and just, and good. Yet you 
may escape through the door of forgiveness. God has 
provided a way by which the penitent and believing sinner 
may be pardoned — even by " the death of his Son." There 
is forgiveness with God, " being justified freely by his grace, 
through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." He be- 
came a curse for men, that he might deliver them that were 



4 THE SINNER CONDEMNED ALREADY. 

under the curse. To give the sinner, under sentence of 
death, an opportunity to avail himself of the provisions of 
the Gospel, he is suffered to live. Year after year of for- 
bearance is allotted him. The criminal convicted and sen- 
tenced at a liuman tribunal, is yet allowed the opportunity 
to ap'phj, if he pleases, to the supreme authority. So may 
you now approach the Ruler of the universe for pardon. 
And what is more, not one who went humbly to him, plead- 
ing the merits of Christ, was ever rejected. 

But what would you think of the hardened wretch, 
who in sullen silence awaits the execution of his sentence, 
and suffers days and weeks of his reprieve to pass away 
without suing for pardon ? Would you not cry out against 
such infatuation ? And what less than this is your own 
slumbering over the fearful doom that awaits you ? Do 
you imagine that the day of execution will never overtake 
you ? Not so, the time of your reprieve has its limit. The 
very day on which you have entered, may bring it to a 
close. At the longest, it will soon be ended. Think you 
the violated law will relinquish its victim ? No. There is 
but one way of escaping its penalty, and that is, by faith 
in a crucified Saviour. bestir yourself. Seek forgive- 
ness while you may. 

" So shall that curse remove, 

By which the Saviour bled ; ^ 

And the last awful day shall pour 
Its blessings on your head." 

Delay a little longer, and the day of mercy will be over. 
The death-warrant will be in the hands of the officer, and 
while you dream of peace, sudden destruction will come 
upon you, and you cannot escape. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 413. 



THE 



RUSSIAN NURSE 



BY REV. RICHARD KNILL. 



Ill 4il><<<ji'MlLii|i1'IJiKihjiiigilii> |ul I II 1 1 1 I 




The imperial city of St. Petersburg is one of the most 
magnificent in the world. Its spacious streets, and gilded 
spires, and numerous palaces, have a most imposing effect 
on strangers. The population is upwards of three hundred 
thousand. I lived among them thirteen years, and received 
nothing but kindness from every class of the community. 
People from the four quarters of the world come and settle 
there — some for pleasure, and others for trade ; and it is a 
pleasing sight to see, on a fine day at one of the fashionable 
promenades, people of every color and clime dressed in the 
costume of their native countries. 



2 THE RUSSIAN NURSE. 

Almost every family keeps a crowd of servants : now 
and then you see a Tartar coachman, or hear of a Flemish 
cook ; but the persons employed are chiefly Russian peasants, 
who come to the metropolis from all parts of the empire, in 
hope of getting higher wages than they can earn at home. 
Among them was Erena, a deserving, intelligent young wo- 
man, who came to live with us in 1827. 

All M'eiit on well until Ash-Wednesday. This is the first 
day of Lent, and then begins the long fast, which many of 
the Greek church observe as if it secured the salvation of 
their souls. Besides rigid fasting, they go to church two or 
three times daily, and in ''Passion- week," many of them go 
there four times a day. 

Erena was a strict observer of the Greek ceremonies, and 
she was determined to perform them. Her mistress spoke 
to her of the impropriety of going out so often, but she re- 
plied, "Do you wish me to lose my soul, ma'am ?" " No," 
was the answer ; "far from it : I wish your soul to be saved ; 
but your fasting, praying, and going to church will not save 
your soul. There must be something more than all this. 
The Lord Jesus Christ is the Saviour of sinners, and it is 
by faith in him alone that sinners are saved." " Ah," said 
she, "that is your religion, but I have been taught differ- 
ently, and I must attend to my own religion." 

Frequent conversations to the same effect took place, 
until my wife said to me, "I think we shall be obliged to 
part with Erena, she is so superstitious." I said, "The 
poor girl is ignorant. Try to throw a little light into her 
mind, and then the superstitions will drop off like the 
leaves in autumn; there will be nothing to hold them." 
The next day her mistress said to her, "Erena, I wish to 
teach you to read; would you like to learn?" "0 yes, 
ma'am, I should be delighted to learn." So the work of edu- 
cation commenced ; and, in the course of a few weeks, she 
could make out an easy lesson very well. Then she was 
supplied with a Russian Testament, which she studied dili- 
gently whenever she had a little leisure. She has told us 
since, that from the first day she came to live v^dth us, she 
was very observant about our religion, and that she was 
much struck with our family worship. She saw the pro- 
priety of it, and often felt it deeply, though she could not 
then understand a word we said. These things were all 



THE RUSSIAN NURSE. 3 

new to her. She had never lived in a house where there 
was family prayer before ; but God was thus about to pre- 
pare her mind for the great change which she was soon to 
experience. 

That "great change" evidently took place on the Lord's 
day, and in the followdng manner : When we w^ent to chapel, 
her mistress left Erena in charge of our children, and said 
to her, "I recommend you, Erena, to read the tenth chap- 
ter of the Acts of the Apostles." " Yery well," she replied. 
This excited her curiosity. "What can there be in the tenth 
chapter of the Acts?" and she soon began to read. As she 
proceeded, she found that Cornelius fasted, and prayed, and 
gave alms. "Ah, this is delightful," she thought. "This 
man was of our religion ; he kept the fast." But when she 
found that an angel was sent to him to tell him what he 
must do, this staggered her. She was astonished, and seem- 
ed disappointed ; and on our return home, she came to her 
instructress, and with an inquiring countenance said, " I wish 
you would explain this to me, ma'am ; I don't understand it. 
Here is a very good man who kept the fast, and prayed to 
God, and gave alms ; but that was not enough : now, why 
was it not enough ? I never M'as taught to do any thing 
more. Tell me, why was the angel sent to him?" Her 
mistress cautiously avoided saying any thing that would ap- 
pear like an attack upon her religion, but answered, "Do 
you think God would send an angel to you, or to us, or to 
any other person, unless some important end w^as to be an- 
swered by it?" "Ah," said she, " I did not think of that." 
"Very well, then; read the chapter through, and examine 
every verse, and you will find out why the angel ^^-as sent 
to him." 

She returned to her room and read the chapter atten- 
tively, until she came to that beautiful verse where Peter 
says of Christ, " To Him give all the prophets witness, that 
through his name icliosoever believetli in hini shall receive 
remission of sins." This w-as enough. "God, who com- 
manded the light to shine out of darkness, shone into her 
heart, to give her the light of the knowledge of the glory of 
God in the face of Jesus Christ." 2 Cor. 4 : 6. The scales 
fell from her eyes, and she saw in a moment the way ol 
salvation. She could read no more. She arose, and running 
to her mistress, clasped her hands, and exclaimed, " Oh, 



4 THE RUSSIAN NURSE. 

ma'am, now I see it — now I see it — now I see it I It was 
not by fasting that he was to be saved ; not by praying that 
he was to be saved : not by giving alms that he was to be 
saved ; but by believing on the Son of God. Now I see 
it I" and from that day the change was glorious. She be- 
came one of the most active and devoted, and perhaps use- 
ful young Christians that we had ever seen. 

About a year after her conversion, a circumstance oc- 
curred which afforded her continual opportunities for ex- 
plaining God's method of saving sinners to persons whom 
she had never seen before. I began to be extensively em- 
ployed in circulating the Scriptures, and religious books and 
Tracts. This brought multitudes of people about us; and 
there was scarcely a person who came, to whom she could 
speak, but she would in simple, striking language, show 
them how God can "be just," and yet "the justifier of him 
which belie veth in Jesus." Rom. 3 : 26. She spoke the 
German, and Finnish, and Russian languages, and thus she 
had ample scope for gratifying the desires of her heart ; nor 
did she ever appear so happy as when she could get the ear 
of a poor sinner to listen to the words of eternal life. 

One striking instance of her usefulness must not be pass- 
ed over; and I hope that every one who reads or hears it 
may be encouraged to attempt great things. A hawker 
called at my house to sell his wares, when she inquired, 
"Have you a New Testament, brother?" "No," said the 
man; "a Testament would be of no use to me." "Why?" 
"Because I cannot read." "Ah, but it might be of use to 
you though you cannot read." "How?" said the haw^ker. 
" Perhaps some of your family can read." " Yes, I did not 
think of that ; my brother has two boys at school who can 
read." "Well, then, buy a Testament, and let the boys 
■read to your poor old father, that he may hear something 
about the Lord Jesus Christ before he dies." The man 
bought it, and as he was going away, she said to him, 
"Where do you live?" "I am a thousand versts from 
home," he replied, " but at present I live in a lodging-house." 
"Are there many lodgers besides you?" "Yes, many." 
"Perhaps some of them can read." "I do not know. I 
never saw a book among them." So he departed, and we 
saw him no more until the winter commenced, when thou- 
sands of the laboring classes go back into the interior to 



THE RUSSIAN NURSE. 5 

their families. And now the hawker made his appearance 
again, and said to my wife, "Will you please to let me have 
a copy of every book you have in the house?" " That is a 
large order, friend ; what are you going to do with so many 
books?" "You would not ask that question, ma'am, if you 
knew what good that New Testament has done which Erena 
recommended to me in the spring." "What good has it 
done? I should like to hear." " Before I bought that book, 
it was the custom with many of the lodgers to go out into 
the city after supper, and come home at midnight drunk, 
while others were playing at cards at home ; but as soon as 
I showed them the New Testament, one said, 'I can read;' 
and another said, 'I can read;' and a third said, 'I can 
read;' so they took it by turns, and read chapter after chap- 
ter. Tliis excited a deep interest, and the drunkards forsook 
their glass and the gamblers their cards ; and there are nei- 
ther drunkards nor card-players in our lodging now, ma'am. 
They hear two or three chapters, and then lie down to sleep. 
And as these men are returning to their families, they wish 
to take home a copy of that book which has been so bene- 
ficial to themselves." 

Who could help exclaiming, on hearing this, " Surely the 
Lord hath done great things, whereof we are glad." Psa. 
126 : 3. Here were vices forsaken; sinners relbrmed ; the 
Scriptures circulated ; many copies of the holy book going 
to villages where it had never been seen before. Oh, what 
pleasure can be so great as that connected with doing good 
to souls? 

But some may say, "It is not in my power to imitate 
mch an example, for I have not the opportunity." True, it 
may be so ; but there are several things in which you may 
imitate her. 

1 . Her endeavor to do good to those in the same condi- 
tion in life. Her kind and winning manner had a happy 
effect on young people. It was irresistible. They appeared 
as if held by a charm while she spoke to them about their 
souls. Take the following as a specimen. 

A family near us had many domestics. One of them 
came to my door on a Sabbath evening, when Erena was 
sitting in the porch reading the gospel of John. "Come 
in," said the devout reader. " Be seated. Would you like 
to hear a portion of God's holy word?" "Oh yes, by all 

VOL. XI. 4 



6 THE RUSSIAN NURSE. 

means — proceed." The place of the Scripture which she 
read was the narrative of our Lord's discourse with the wo- 
man of Samaria, in which occurs the passage, "The hour 
Cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall wor- 
ship the Father ^?^ spirit and in truth; for the Father 
seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit; and they 
that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." 
John 4. "Delightful," said the visitor. "Pray stop a mo- 
ment, and I will go and call my fellow-servants. I think 
they will rejoice to hear it, for surely they have never heard 
such things since they were born." She then arose, and 
ran and called them, and brought three of them with her, 
and the same chapter was read again, accompanied by many 
solemn remarks on the state of unconverted sinners, and the 
suitableness and all-sufficiency of Jesus to save all that 
come unto God by him. Erena also urged on them the ne- 
cessity of coming to Christ immediately, as every effort to 
get to heaven in any other way would be of no avail. These 
remarks were delivered with peculiar emotion, and frequently 
watered with her tears, and her hearers were as much af- 
fected as she was. When the chapter was finished they 
departed, acknowledging with gratitude the pleasure they 
had enjoyed from hearing words which they had never heard 
before. 

The mistress of Erena listened with great delight to a 
part of these proceedings, and when she saw the visitors, 
the tears were still glistening in their eyes. It ought to be 
noticed, that none of these four young women were able to 
read, and it is more than probable that they had lived until 
that day without hearing a chapter in a language which 
they could understand. But now the seal was loosed, and 
the book was opened, and the blessed Saviour seemed to be 
speaking to them. One of these young women afterwards 
came to my wife for a New Testament, and "The Dairy- 
man's Daughter," and " The Young Cottager," in the Rus- 
sian language, to send to her brother, who could read, and 
who lived several hundred miles off. On receiving these 
precious treasures, her heart seemed to swell with ecstasy. 
She pressed them to her bosom, and kissed the hand from 
which she received them. Had some cold-hearted professor, 
some neglecter of his Bible, witnessed this scene, he would 
have felt it as a dagger to his conscience. And could the 



THE RUSSIAN NURSE. 7 

lovers of the Bible have witnessed it, they would have felt 
a joy similar to that which angels feel when a sinner is 
brought to repentance. 

2. We had constant proofs of her fidelity, especially in 
the care which she took of our dear children. We could 
leave them without any anxiety, if Erena was there. We 
had no fears that they would be neglected, or that any thing 
improper would be taught them in her presence. When 
that dreadful scourge the cholera visited St. Petersburg, it 
pleased God to send it to my house, and by it to remove two 
of our sons. My wife also was in a perilous condition, and 
I was attacked ; and now it was that the religion of the 
nurse shone most brightly in her tenderness, watchfulness, 
prayerfulness, diligence, and untiring efforts to serve us. In- 
deed she was like a sister to us ; and now we had a rich 
reward for all the pains which had been taken to lead her 
to the Saviour. We had a man-servant, but he was fright- 
ened and ran away. We had a cook, but she was supposed 
to be dying. Our chief support Avas our nurse. Many kind 
friends came by turns to help us; but Erena was always 
there, until our children were put into the silent grave, and 
we began to recover. Then she was attacked also ; but 
even then she seemed almost to forget herself in her anxiety 
about us. I have often thought, if masters and mistresses 
knew what a blessing such a young woman is in a family, 
much more would be done to promote the piety of their 
households than has yet been attempted. 

3. You can imitate her love to her relatives. Amidst all 
her attempts to do good to strangers, she was not unmindful 
of her connections. They had the first claim, and she met 
it. We have often known her leave herself without a rouble 
in order to send a few comforts to her aged mother; and 
these were always accompanied with some good books and 
a pressing letter on the subject of salvation. Nor was this 
labor in vain. We had every reason to believe that God 
blessed her pious solicitude in the genume conversion of her 
mother. Not long before we left Russia, she came to visit 
her daughter; and that she might have frequent opportuni- 
ties of conversing with her, we asked the old woman to stop 
a few weeks at our house. While she was with us, she fell 
sick and died ; and it was particularly gratifying to us to 
witness the tender solicitude of Erena, both for the body 



jg THE RUSSIAN NUR:3E. 

and the soul of her parent. One day, as she was supposed 
to be drawmg near her end, my little boy said, "Erena, I 
think the fourteenth chapter of John woiild just suit your 
mother." The girl took the hint, and went immediately to 
the bedside and told what the boy had said, and then read 
the chapter to her mother. This seemed to rouse eveiy 
energ}\ The old woman arose and sat up in the bed, and 
thanked God for putting it into the heart of the boy to send 
her such strong consolation, and then, M^iile praying down 
blessings on her daughter, she expired. 

Erena was wonderfully supported, and tried to turn the 
death of her mother to good account. It is customary, as 
soon as a Russian dies, for two or more persons, called " Read- 
ers for the dead," to be employed in reading over the corpse 
night and day until the funeral. This is dreaiy work. The 
reading is generally very monotonous, and, if it could be 
understood, would be very unprofitable. Therefore Erena 
gave the book of Psalms to the men, saying, "Read that ;" 
hoping that thereby her mother's death might be blessed to 
them. 

Not long after this excellent young woman had followed 
her mother to the grave, she accompanied us to the steamer ; 
and, as she stood gazing on us to take the last farewell, she 
wiped away her tears with one hand and waved the other 
in the air, as if to say, "We shall meet again in heaven!" 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I%o. 414. 



YOUR BEST FRIEND. 



You rejoice in the kindness of earthly friends. You are 
comforted in time of trouble, by knowing that the tidings 
of your sorrows will bring them promptly to your relief. 
But your best Friend is not wanting here. As the vast 
scene of human guilt and woe was before him, the infinite 
Redeemer exclaimed, " Lo, I come." His human nature 
made him acquainted with all the woes of man's earthly 
existence. What can mangled and bleeding flesh suffer, 
that his did not ? Whose spirit was ever more keenly wound- 
ed by calumny, than his ? What could a pure mind en- 
dure from the spectacle of odious guilt, which his did not 
endure ? How exhausting the trial of his patience and love, 
while in contact with this guilty, hating, and hateful world ! 
His tears moistened the earth of Gethsemane, and his blood, 
the soil of Calvary ; but the deep agonies of his soul, " made 
an offering for sin," must have been great beyond all our 
comprehension. All the anguish of his body, and all the 
agony of his soul, accumulates the proof of the deep sin- 
cerity of his love. 

You triumph, also, in the power of earthly friends, re- 
joicing in their ability to relieve, as well as in their prompt- 
ness to sympathize. Nor is your best Friend wanting here. 
Is not creative power illimitable ? It is found in Jesus : 
" For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, 
and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be 
thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers : all things 
were created by him, and for him." If, as preserver of the 
universe, one must have an omnipotent arm, then is Christ 
omnipotent, for he '' upholdeth all things by the word of 
his power." What realm of nature, then, and what region 
of eternity is not subject to his sway ? The best Friend has 

VOL. XI. 4* 



2 YOUR BEST FRLEND. 

therefore power to render his kindness effective. To the 
sweet benevolence of his heart, he can add the omnipotence 
of his hand. Tell me the want he cannot relieve, the dan- 
ger he cannot avert. His human nature, and experience of 
its frailties, give him sympathy in your earthly sorrows ; 
while his infinite elevation, as Maker and Upholder of all 
worlds, qualifies him for any act of friendship eternity may 
require. 

Must you not, however, look upon him as an unrequited 
and INJURED Friend ? Tender and affectionate friendship is 
cruelly wounded by mere neglect. The odiousness of gross 
guilt may not be upon you, but has there not been cold 
indifference towards this infinite Friend ? Has not the world 
appeared more bright and beautiful to you than all the 
attractions of the Lord of glory ? It would seem that such 
a friend would have been welcomed to your heart on the 
first appeal for admittance ; that there would not have been 
the guilt of a moment's delay. So sweet, pure, disinter- 
ested, and ineffably great has been his love, that the least 
indifference to it is a deep affront. To be unaffected by it 
is a glaring injury of Christ. — But how great, also, has 
been this guilty indifference towards the best Friend ! Earthly 
friendship towards you has been as the cold moon-beams, 
compared with the warm, sunlike radiance of the Re- 
deemer's love ; yet by human kindness has your heart 
been softened, while the divine has left it like the unmelted 
polar snows. You have refused Christ your love and obe- 
dience, and he now stands before you in a most affecting 
attitude, that of a deeply injured Friend. 

Yet he has been a patient Friend. You must add 
this star to his diadem of glory. Human friendship cools 
rapidly when unrequited. It is utterly extinguished often 
by long provocation. What a contrast in the Redeemer's 
friendship ! Its character has been tried by the ordeal 
through which it has passed. The kindness of no human 
being could have stood the test of such provocations. Con- 
sider what you have done to try it. Let your youthful 



YOUR BEST FRIEND. 3 

years declare in how many ways redeeming love has been 
pressed upon your attention, only to be slighted. Let the 
long periods of later life proclaim in how many, and in what 
affecting forms, the claims of your best Friend have been 
tirged, to meet only with constant disregard. All the 
instances of your denial of him have been registered in his 
book, and stand in all their aggravations before him. But 
he has not laid his hand on vengeance. He has seen, and 
heard, and felt all your abuse of his goodness, and yet has 
been a long-suffering Friend. 

But must he not be an indignant Friend ? He cannot 
be insensible to the claims of his own excellence, nor blind 
to the odious guilt of ill-treatment. Do not all the myriads 
of heaven honor him in the sweetest love, and the swiftest 
obedience ? Is not every heavenly crown cast at his feet in 
profound adoration ? And when the sinning angels refused 
that homage, was he backward to recognize his own rights 
and their odious guilt ? Are not his claims as strong upon 
you as upon angels ? Is not his redeeming love an appeal 
more affecting than can be addressed to sinless beings ? 
Say not your infinite Friend is not indignant, because he is 
long-suffering. Do not commit a fresh act of guilt by thus 
lightly esteeming the moral glory of his character. I would 
not ask for him your obedience and love, were he capable 
of receiving, unaffected, such treatment as sinners give him. 
This would impl}^ such indifference to his own glory, and 
such disregard of the violation of his own laws, as would 
be incompatible with his character as a righteous moral 
Governor. Dwell as much as you may upon the infinite 
benevolence and patience of Christ, yet never indulge for a 
moment the thought that he is not indignant at every 
resistance of his will, and every abuse of his goodness. Is 
he tender and compassionate ? So is he glorious in holiness. 
Is he the Lamb of God ? So is he the Lion of the tribe of 
Judah. 

Beware, then, that your best Friend does not become a 
LOST Friend ! Your present course of guilt is tending to 



4 YOUR BEST FRIEND. 

alienate him for ever from 3-ou. His patience has been 
amazing, but you are rapidly exhausting it. It should 
startle you to think that you know not the boundary of his 
forbearance, and know not, of course, how near that limit 
you may this moment be. A few more repulses of infinite 
love, perhaps but one, may settle this great question, caus- 
ing his mercy to be clean gone for ever. 

Our anguish at the loss of a friend is in proportion to 
the clearness of our views of the value of his friendship. 
Look, then, at the value of Christ's friendship in the light 
of his infinite attributes, and the blessings he is able to 
bestow. The loss is great to be an alien and a stranger to 
such a friend, in the present life. What brightness his 
friendship can throw^ over the dark scenes of adversity! 
What cheerless midnight is that bosom that enjoys none of 
the beams of the Sun of righteousness ! How gloomy, 
without him, the valley of the shadow of death ! 

But what an opportunity eternity will furnish, for 
estimating the loss of such a friend ! There will be no 
dimness of the mental eye. No worldly cares or pleasures 
will prevent intensity of thought upon that dreadful theme. 
With what terrible vividness will all the expressions of the 
lost Friend's kindness, recur to the mind ! His power and 
willingness to save, his tender sympathy, his humiliation 
and his suflferings, his patience, his invitations and his prom- 
ises ; what topics of thought, as life's unfolded map re- 
ceives the terrific brightness of the beams of truth as they 
shine in eternity. Beware that you do not encounter in 
eternity the dreadful fact, that your best Friend, is a lost 
Friend. 



FUBLISHED BY THE AMERICA>' TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 413. 



HOW TO SPEND THE LORD'S DAY. 



My dear Sir — Placed as you are, at the head of a house- 
hold, it becomes your duty, in the arrangement of your do- 
mestic affairs, to adopt such principles and regulations as 
will secure to those you tenderly love the blessing of Him 
who " taketh the desolate and setteth him in families." 
Especially am I solicitous that you should so order your 
affairs as to enable every member of your family to keep 
holy the Lord's day. I know that you acknowledge its 
divine origin and authority ; yet I fear lest you should insen- 
sibly form habits and adopt customs which will lead to its 
desecration. 

That some preparatio?i for this holy day is a duty, is 
obvious from the very words of the fourth commandment, 
"Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy." He cannot 
possibly be in a state rightly to observe it, Avho remembers 
it not until its joyful light falls on his eyes. The exam- 
ple of holy men in every age is in accordance with this view 
of the subject. Thus the Israelites in the wilderness remem- 
bered the Sabbath-day, and gathered manna for it on the 
day previous. Exodus 16 : 23. Nehemiah, early the even- 
ing previous, caused the gates of the city to be shut. Neh. 
13 : 19. So also in the time of our Saviour, the sixth. day 
in the week was observed as a season for making ready for 
the Sabbath, because " that day was the preparation, and 
the Sabbath drew on." And so conscientious were the holy 
women who followed Christ, that they employed the day 
before the Sabbath in " preparing spices and ointments" for 
embalming the body of our blessed Lord, and " rested the 
Sabbath-day, according to the commandment." Luke 23 : 
54_56. I therefore submit it to your conscience whether he 



2 HOW TO SPKND THE LORD'S DAY. 

does not sin who fails to make all possible arrangements for 
properly disposing of his worldly business before the Sabbath 
arrives. 

Another manifest duty is, to give the body sufficient rest 
in sleep, so that when this holy day shall come, you may 
not be dull and drowsy, but refreshed and invigorated for its 
solemn services. How many persons keep their shops open, 
vmte letters, or read novels, ncAvspapers, or secular books, 
or do something even less becoming, until a late hour on 
Saturday night, sleep till a late hour on Sabbath morning, 
and then go to the sanctuary in a frame ill-suited to the 
worship of God. Who dare say that such "remember the 
Sabbath ?" He who would properly prepare for the Sabbath- 
day, must also mould his heart into a becoming state by suit- 
able meditation, conversation, and prayer. 

I have lately visited an old friend. Few men have had 
more worldly business, or greater success. On Saturday af- 
ternoon, I noticed a large pile of wood made ready for the 
fire. In the farmyard every thing was in the neatest order, 
and all such work was done as could be done before the 
Sabbath. His miller was directed to stop grinding before 
the usual bedtime. Every laborer had received his week's 
allowance of food or wages, so as to be at home with his 
family before a late hour. 

Early in the evening the whole family assembled for the 
worship of God. The venerable man began the exercises 
by noticing, in a solemn yet familiar mamier, the mercies of 
the past week, some of which had been special and strildng. 
He and his family then sung a hymn, the first line of 
which is, 

" Begone, my worldly cares, away." 

He then read a chapter in one of the gospels, and after- 
wards offered an appropriate prayer. Worship being ended, 
part of the family left the room ; but some remained for a 
while longer. The whole conversation that now took place 
was consistent with what had before occurred. Manifestly 



HOW TO SPEND THE LORD'S DAY. 3 

each one was looking forward to the next day with real 
pleasure. 

At an early hour we all retired, with the prospect of re- 
freshment from rest. I could not but reflect, when alone, 
on the difference between a Saturday evening here, and one 
in some other families with which we are both acquainted. 

Sabbath morning came ; but with it appeared no bright 
sun rejoicing like a strong man to run a race, yet all seemed 
cheerful. After morning devotions and breakfast, I Avent to 
the Sabbath-school, and found more than fifty scholars and 
all the teachers in their places. The school was closed at 
the regular time, and a social meeting was soon afterwards 
commenced. The exercises consisted of prayer, singing, and 
reading a discourse. It was founded on Isaiah 58 : 13, 14, 
" 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 Gssm ways, nor finding thine own pleasure, nor 
speaking thine oa\ti 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." I know you will concur with me that the text Avas 
excellent. The discourse was itself also very good. Permit 
me to give an extract from it. The author says, 

" We miay as easily and grossly profane the Sabbath, so 
far as ourselves only are concerned, by thoughts which are 
unsuited to its nature, as we can by any actions whatever. 
If our minds are intent on our business or our pleasures ; if 
our affections wander after them ; if we are cold or luke- 
warm with respect to our religious duties ; if we are negli- 
gent of a serious and cordial attention to them ; if we regard 
with impatience the interruption occasioned to our secular 
concerns ; if we wish the institution had not been appointed, 
or that the time in which it is to be kept were lessened, 
then plainly we do not esteem ' the Sabbath a delight,' nor 
abstain from finding our oivn pleasti7-e. Every oblation 
from such a mind will be vain, and all its incense an abomi- 



4 HOW TO SPEND THE LORD'S DAY. 

nation. The Sabbaths and the calling of assemblies among 
persons who act thus, will be such as God cannot away 
with ; and their solemn meeting will be iniquity. 

" The heart gives birth to all the movements of the 
tongue. We profane the Sabbath whenever we employ the 
time in worldly conversation. Such conversation is, in the 
text, denoted by the phrase ' speaking thine own words.' 
There is no way in which the Sabbath is more easily, more 
insensibly, more frequently, and more fatally violated, than 
this. Temptations to it are always at hand. The trans- 
gression always seems a small one ; usually a doubtful one 
at the worst ; and often no transgression at all. 

" Multitudes of persons, begimiing with religious sub- 
jects, slide imperceptibly towards those which are considered 
moral in such a degree as scarcely to differ from religious 
ones ; thence to secular themes bordering on these ; and 
thence to mere matters of business or amusement. Such 
persons, before they are aware, find themselves conversing 
about the affairs of the neighborhood, the strangers who were 
at church, the new dresses, fashions, business, diversions, 
news, and politics. To these they are led by mere worldly 
cmivei'sation concerning the prayers, the psalmody, or the 
sermon, as having been well or ill-devised, written, spoken, 
or performed ; by a history, merely secular, of the sickness 
and deaths in the neighborhood or elsewhere, or of the dan- 
gerous or fatal accidents which have lately happened ; the 
weather, the seasons, the crops, the prospects, the affairs of 
the family, and by innumerable other things of a similar 
nature. 

" The next step is, ordinarily, an habitual employment 
of this holy day in open, cool, and self-satisfied conversations 
about business, schemes of worldly pursuits, bargains, gains, 
and losses. It is not to be understood that Christians go 
all these lengths. It is greatly to be feared, however, that 
they often go much farther than they can justify, and thus fail 
of their duty, and of the improvement, the usefulness, the hope, 
the joy, and the peace which they would otherwise attain. 



HOW TO SPEND THE LORD'S DAY. 5 

" The profanation of the Sabbath by actio}is is seen and 
conceded by all decent men who acknowledge it as a day 
consecrated by Grod to himself The common and favorite 
modes of profaning the Sabbath in this way, are spending 
our time in dress, in ministering to a luxurious appetite, ui 
walking or riding for amusement, in writing letters of friend- 
ship, in secular visits, and in reading books which are not 
of a decidedly religious character. 

" The end of this progress is the devotion of this sacred 
day to doviairight business, such as wTiting letters of business, 
posting accounts, visiting post-offices, making bargains, 
transmitting money to correspondents, going or sending to 
markets, making journeys, at first with, and afterwards with- 
out pretences of necessity, and ultimately laboring openly in 
the ordinary employments of life. This is what is called in 
the text doing our own ivays.'' 

I scarcely need add, that I heartily concur in all the 
foregoing sentiments, or that the dear family of whom I now 
must take leave, seemed to practise during the rest of the 
day what they had heard in the social meeting. 

But the Lord's day has its positi\'e duties. A portion 
of it is to be spent in works of necessity and mercy. Such 
are preparation for a decent and comfortable appearance at 
the house of God, the use of necessary food, attention to the 
wants of animals, visiting the sick and afflicted with the 
intention of being useful and serviceable, and similar acts 
of benevolence. All such labors become the day of that 
blessed Lord who " will have mercy and not sacrifice," and 
who made the Sabbath for man, and not man for the Sab- 
bath. 

We must guard, however, against the abuse of the divine 
law, as in any wise giving us permission to defer acts of 
necessity or mercy from secular portions of the week until 
the Sabbath, that we may save time, or have an expedient 
for misspending the day of God. He who visits his sick 
neighbors on the Lord's day only, or who spends all his Sab- 

VOL. XI, * 5 



6 HOW TO SPEND THE LORD'S DAY. 

baths in such service, is a profane man, and the Lord will 
not hold him guiltless. Besides, whenever we regard these 
works of necessity and mercy as indulgences granted, and 
not as duties required, we do err exceedingly respecting 
them. 

Another method of sanctifying this holy day, consists in 
a proper attention to the ijrivate duties, of religion, such as 
secret and family prayer, reading the word of God and other 
pious and edifying books, and speaking one to another of the 
things of the kmgdom of Jesus Christ. Nor may we neglect 
the important duties of self-examination, and devout medi- 
tation on the word and works of God, and especially on the 
wonders of redemption. 

This season should also be specially employed in giving 
jyroper religious instruction to children and others under 
our care, taking due pains to render the lessons we would 
teach interesting and lyrojitable, by choosing out acceptable 
words, by employing suitable helps furnished us in cate- 
chisms and other good books, and by a solemn yet cheerful 
engagedness in the work on our part. 

It is also in most cases our duty, and that of our fami- 
lies, to unite in some way in maintaining those nurseries of 
piety, Sabbath-scl tools. If we are not fit to be teachers, let 
us not be too proud to become learners at first ; and after- 
wards we may at least be teachers of babes, instructors of 
the foolish. 

It is also our obvious duty to go Avith the multitude to 
the lunise of God, " with the voice of joy and praise, with a 
multitude that keep holy day." Keligion and its public 
ordinances are the glory, and beauty, and defence of the 
land. Without our churches, our country Avould soon be 
filled with lewdness, and robbery, and blasphemy, and blood, 
and atheism. 

And if there be a general " forsaking of the assembling 
of ourselves together, as the manner of some is," our churches 
will soon be but a name for what once existed. Besides, 
everv man needs lor himself the instruction and the aids to 



HOW TO rfPEiND THE LORD'S DAY. 7 

devotion which the public mhiistrations of God's house 
afford. Even the man whose knowledge surpasses that of 
the plain but pious and sensible man of God on whose mm- 
istry he attends, will find his " pure mind stirred up by way 
of remembrance " in a manner highly useful. All who can, 
are under strong obligations to " appear in Zion before God," 
to obey the exhortation given us by inspiration : "0 come, 
let us sing unto the Lord, let us make a joyful noise unto 
the R-ock of our salvation. Let us come before liis presence 
with thanksgiving, and m^ake a joyful noise unto him with 
psalms. come, let us worship and bow down ; let us 
kneel before the Lord our Maker." Then let us go in com- 
pany to the house of God. Our feet shall stand within thy 
gates, Jerusalem ; and on thy heights, Zion. 

The words of the decalogue show the extent of the com- 
mand to keep holy one day in seven. According to that 
divine law it is not enough that you yourself respect the 
Sabbath ; it requires of you to see that the precept is not 
infringed by your " son, nor your daughter, nor your man- 
servant, nor your maid-servant, nor your cattle, nor by the 
stranger that is within your gates." Should you and your 
family disregard tliis law, you may expect soon to hear a 
message which will make both your ears to tingle. 

In closing this letter 1 would observe, that the Lord's 
day being ended, we ought to endeavor to retain a savor of 
the spirit becommg it during the subsequent week. This 
seems proper, because one object in observing the Sabbath 
is to enable us to spend the week aright ; and if you arc 
truly pious, you will not be afraid of being too devout or too 
spiritually-minded . 

I would f^^rther remark, that the faithful and strict ob- 
servance of holy time is imperiously demanded at the pres- 
ent time. Steamboats, stages, railroads, and similar facili- 
ties are so increased, and our country is so filled as with a 
nation of travellers, and the general tendency to profane the 
Sabbath is so great, that if the friends of religion shall remit 



g HOW TO SPEND THE LORD'S DAY. 

proper exertions in behalf of sacred institutions, a speedy and 
dreadful overthrow must await us. The enemy has come 
in hke a flood. The good example and scriptural remon- 
strances of the pious must be, under God, lifted up as a 
standard. Just as wickedness increases, must the righteous 
be vigilant. It was in times of dreadful apostacy that 
those old saints secured so rich a blessing. See Malachi 
3 :16, 17. 

Finally, if you will sanctify the Lord's day, you shall 
know that in keeping this command there is great reward. 
The refreshing rest from worldly occupations, the solemn 
stilhiess, the elevating devotions, and the pure and sacred 
character of the w^iole institution of the Lord's day are felt, 
and seen, and confessed by all who are not so profane as to 
sell this birthright of creation for a paltry consideration. 
Hest assured, it is not a vain thing to keep the Sabbath 
holy, even to the end of it. 

Be not moved, except to pity, by those who make a 
mock at the sin of misspending holy time. Their folly sur- 
passes all names of madness. Two things will probably 
have a keener edge in wounding the lost soul than all others. 
One will be, the recollection of Christ rejected. The other 
will be, the remembrance of time, especially holy time, mis- 
spent. " Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy." Let 
this law be written on your whole domestic economy, and 
your enemies themselves being judges, you shall be blessed 
in your deed. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 416. 

A 

PRAYER-MEETING OF FORTY YEARS, 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



As " one sinner destroyeth much good," so one devoted 
Christian may do much for the kingdom of Christ. Mr. 

W , of , NewYork, was a plain man, a farmer, and 

received, in his youth, only a very limited common-school 
education. But he studied the Bible diligently, not to the- 
orize, but that he might know the will of God, and obey it. 
His piety was consistent, humble, meek, benevolent, active, 
uniform. It seldom rose to ecstas}'', and never sunk into 
such apathy or depression that he had nothing to say for 
his Lord and Master, His light was never hid under a 
bushel. He was acknowledged by all as an every-day 
Christian. He lived in an out district of the congregation, 
quite remote from the sanctuary. 

At a time when the church was small, and but two or 
three brethren lived in his vicinity, he consulted his pastor, 
and established a neighhorhood iwayer-meeting , to be held 
on Sabbath evening in the district school-house. In the 
circle of attendance there were sixteen or eighteen families, 
in very few of which the domestic altar had ever been 
erected. The meeting was commenced in the year 1800. 

Mr. W led it for twenty years, when, with a hope full 

of immortality, and a faith which triumphed over death, he 
entered his eternal rest. 

The Lord had provided for this emergency, by prepar- 
ing others to receive his mantle, and discharge his duties. 
They, too, have gone to their reward. And now, after a 
lapse of forty years, when death has produced so entire a 
change, that but two individuals of the original heads of 
families yet live, the prayer-meeting, which no heat or cold, 
no darkness or storm breaks up, is still sustained and cher- 
ished with warm aft'ection. 

From the beginning, persons of all ages have been ac- 
customed to attend it. Though there was seldom any direct 
address to the small children, some well remember that 



2 A PRAYER-MEETING OF FORTY YEARS. 

serious impressions were made on their minds when but 
four or five years old ; impressions, too, which afterwards 
were revived, never to be effaced. Children should be 
taken to the prayer- meeting. 

During the first year of the meeting, several parents and 
a few youth were brought publicly to confess Christ. Then 
succeeded a long and severe trial of faith and perseverance. 
For fourteen years very few were added to the church, and 
*'the ways of Zion mourned." Thoughtlessness and mirth 
prevailed. Few came to the prayer-meeting, but it was 

never relinquished. Mr. W and one or two others, 

now in heaven, were always at their post, to pray, and speak 
a word for the Redeemer ; to warn sinners of the error of 
their way, and beseech them to become reconciled to God. 

During the fourteenth year of this spiritual dearth, these 
individuals became so deeply affected in view of the condi- 
tion of the impenitent, and so anxious that " Zion might 
arise and shine," that after others had retired from the 
school-house, they frequently remained one, two, or three 
hours in prayer. In the opening spring their hopes were 
revived. The meetings became full and solemn. Their 
cries had reached heaven, and the Holy Spirit came down. 
One evening a youth who had been deeply impressed for 
several days, could no longer suppress his feelings. He 
gave vent to his burdened heart by a single expression of 
warning to his companions, which carried conviction to sev- 
eral other minds ; and from that hour a deep solemnity 
pervaded the neighborhood, and resulted in a glorious and 
powerful work of grace. The means blessed of God, were 
personal conversation, family visiting, and frequent prayer- 
meetings ; all conducted among themselves with very little 
help from ministers. 

This revival continued through the summer, and ex- 
tended into other parts of the congregation. In fact, the 
evidences of the special presence of the Holy Spirit contin- 
ued in that highly-favored district for two years ; in which 
time the work of grace spread over the town and into all 
the neighboring churches, and hundreds renounced their 
sins, and consecrated themselves to God. In this district 
the work was great. Nearly every family had now erected 
a domestic altar, and nearly every adult was rejoicing in 
hope of the glory of God. 



A PRAYER-MEETING OF FORTY YEARS. 3 

Next, their attention was turned to the study of a doc- 
trinal catechism ; each answer being given in the language 
of the Scriptures, without note or comment. This, with 
devotional exercises, occupied one evening in the week. 
Parents and their children united in it. God honored the 
study of hi^ word. While thus engaged one evening, " the 
Spirit filled the room where they were sitting," and another 
work of grace began and extended over the congregation. 
Other seasons of refreshing have been from time to time 
enjoyed. Eternity only can make known the number of 
souls that have been, and will be converted in answer to 
the prayers ofiered in that school-house. 

It is interesting and instructive to trace the history of 
the families in that district for forty years. Some whole 
households, down to the second and third generations, give 
evidence that they will be united in the great family above ; 
and of habitual attendants, seldom has one continued long 
in impenitence. 

As another result, not less than ten men have been 
raised up in these families to preach the Messed Gospel. 
Seven are in the field, and three in a course of preparation. 
Their labors, perhaps in answer to prayer offered at this 
meeting, have been owned of the Lord in "turning many to 
righteousness." 

These families have also entered warmly into the benev- 
olent enteritises of the age. They have felt deeply, prayed 
fervently, and contributed liberally for the conversion of 
the world. It is also a district proverbial for peace. A 
praying people cannot be a contentious people. Those who 
often meet together before the heart-searching Jehovah, 
will not retain ill-will towards each other. Such are a few 
of the blessed results ; but the whole amount of good ef- 
fected by establishing and sustaining this little social meet- 
ing, Avill not be known till time shall end. 

Christian reader, do not forget the prayer -meeting. If 
you have none in your neighborhood, be the first to pro- 
pose one, and the last to forsake it, and the blessing of 

many ready to perish may come on you. Does Mr. W 

noAv regret that he did not give up the prayer- meeting 
during the fourteen years of spiritual dearth ? His only 
lamentation on his death-bed was, that he " had not done 
more for the liOrd." 



4 A PRAYER MEETING OF FORTY YEARS. 

Should this Tract fall into the hands of one still impen- 
itent, dear reader, go to the prayer-meeting. God may 
there meet your soul in mercy. 

If any ask additional reasons for attending a stated 
prayer -meeting, they are such as the following : 

1. United prayer is p)leasing to God. ''Then they that 
feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord 
hearkened, and heard it ; and a book of remembrance was 
Avritten." 

2. Blessings are given in ansiver to united prayer. " If 
two of you shall agree on earth, as touching any thing that 
they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which 
is in heaven." 

3. The Holy Spirit is given in a7iswer to prayer. " If 
ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your 
children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give 
the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." 

4. Almost every conversion and revival is in answer to 
prayer. When the Spirit came with such power on the day 
of Pentecost, ''the disciples were with one accord in one 
place." 

5. Nothing more efifectually sustains a devoted minister 
in his labors and trials, than a full attendance of his people 
on the prayer-meeting. 

6. Prayer makes the truth 2^i'€ached efficacious. "When 
the Lord shall build up Zion, he shall appear in his glory. 
He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise 
their prayer." "Brethren, pray for us, that the word of 
the Lord may have free course, and be glorified." 

v. The world itself is to be converted in ansiver to]yrayer. 
" Ask of me, and I will give thee the heathen for thine 
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy 
possession." 

Dear reader, with these facts and reasons before you, 
what will you do ? Dare you take the fearful responsibil- 
ity of forsaking or neglecting the prayer- meeting ? If you 
do, your account is with God, " who will render unto every 
man accordino- to his deeds." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



TXo. 417. 



DO YOU LOYE GOD ? 



We like to think of those we love. When we become 
attached to an individual, that one is often and much in our 
thoughts. Do you think often of God ? Do you think much 
of him ? Do you love to think of God ? And when you do 
think of him, is it with dehght, or with dread ? Are thoughts 
of him precious ? Do you cherish thoughts of God ; or do 
you banish them as soon as you can ? 

We delight in the societij of those we love. We wish 
to be much and often with them. We cannot bear a long 
absence from them. Do you delight in the society of God ? 
Do you love to hold communion with him ? Do you read 
your Bible for this purpose, and frequent your closet? 
What testimony will your Bible and your closet bear in the 
judgment ? Do you pray at all ? When ? where ? how 
often ? Do you pray once a day ? once a week ? once a 
month ? Do you pray in your closet ? in your family ? in 
public ? Did you ever pray ? 

We endeavor to please those we love. Do you endeavor 
to please God ? From what do you abstain, that you may 
please him ? What do you do, that you may please him ? 
Do you seek his pleasure in any thing ? How or in what do 
you serve him ? Do you delight in his service ? Do you 
obey him ? He commands all men everywhere to repent. 
Acts 17 : 30. Do you obey that command ? And if you do 
not obey God, how can you 2^l€ase him ? And if you do not 
strive to please him, how can you love him ? 

We are careful not to offend those we love. We do 
nothing to injure their feelings, nothing to incur their dis- 
pleasure. Are you careful not to offend God ? But see 
how you live. You do not obey his commands, nor regard 
his threatenings, nor accept his invitations, nor embrace his 
Son, nor yield to his Spirit, nor live to his glory. Suppose 
a native from the western wilds should visit your dwelling, 
and abide with you a month or a year, see all you do, and 
hear all you say ; could he infer from your conduct that 



2 DO YOU LOVli GOD ? 

there is a God ? Must he not conclude, either that there is 
no God, or that, if there be a God, you do not beheve in 
his existence ? Such a conclusion must be natural and 
necessary, for he would see you eat and drink without 
thanking God or asking his blessing. He would see you 
lie down and rise up without prayer ; see you plough and 
sow, and attend to your affairs, without any reference to a 
superintending Providence. In one word, he would see 
you living, practically, to all intents and purposes, without 
God, as an atheist in the world. Does the pursuit of such 
a course show a desire and purpose not to offend God ? 
And if you are not careful to avoid off'ending God, how can 
you love him ? If you loved God, could you live as you do ? 

We feel interested in the objects ivhich interest those we 
love. What interests them, interests us. The conversion 
of sinners interests the Godhead. As angels love God, so 
they rejoice over repenting sinners. Luke 15:10. So do 
Christians and all holy beings. But the repentance of a 
sinner excites no joy in your heart. You are not interested 
in the advancement of the cause of Christ and the conver- 
sion and salvation of men. If you are, why not repent 
yourself, and turn to God ? If interested in the things which 
interest God, why not turn from your sins and live, that 
God, angels, and men may rejoice over you ? 

We love the friends of those we love. As the circle of 
their friendship is endeared to them, so it is to us. Their 
friends are ours, and we love them. Christians are the 
friends of God. Do you love Christians ? Do you love 
them because they bear the moral image of their divine 
Master ? Do you love them at all ? Jesus Christ is the loell- 
heloved of the Father, elect, precious. Do you love Jesus 
Christ ? How do you treat him ? He is offered you as a 
Saviour from sin and death, but you receive him not, you 
reject and despise him. This rejection of Christ and your 
treatment of him show that you have not the love of God 
in you. God says, "They will reverence my Son." Matt. 
21 : 37. He has a right to expect this. But you reverence 
him not. Jesus says, in John 5 : 43, *' I am come in my 
Father's name, and ye receive me not." This he says in 
proof of the preceding declaration, " Ye have not the love 
of God in you;" for how could they — how can you, love 
the Father, when they and you receive not the Son ? 



DO YOU LOVE GOD ? 3 

But further, you dislike to have the claims of God 
urged upon you. Let the preaching you hear be plain and 
pointed, or let Christians be faithful in conversation, and 
very likely you will be offended. Why ? If you loved God, 
you would delight to hear his truth plainly and faithfully 
preached, to have your duty plainlj^ and faithfully, but 
affectionately urged upon you. And how can you love 
God, when thus opposed to his claims, and displeased 
when they are pressed upon your attention ? 

Again, you have broken the law of God, and yet you 
feel no sorroio for it. You are not grieved that you have 
broken the law of God, and set at naught his commands ; 
hcnv then can you love him ? Love always leads us to em- 
brace the first opportunity to confess our faults to those 
whom we have injured; but when did you confess your 
sins to God ? You have injured him by your transgressions ; 
but when and where have you made confession, and sued 
for his forgiveness ? 

And what regard have you for God's honor and glory ? 
Are you grieved when his name is dishonored and his law 
broken ? Do rivers of waters run down your eyes because 
men keep not his law? Ps. 119 : 136. But how do you 
treat his law, his Bible, his Sabbath, his sanctuary, his wor- 
ship, his ordinances, his people? Are you honoring and 
glorifying God ? Is this your aim ? Is God honored and 
glorified by your unholy, and prayerless, and irreligious 
life ? But, reader, not to reason further, I ask you plainlj^ 
must you not confess that you have not the love of God in 
you ? Are you not convinced that you are wholly destitute 
of all true evangelical love to God ? Whether convinced or 
not, remember the Saviour says, and it is true, / knoio you, 
that you have not the love of God in you. This is your 
condition ; I would to God you might realize it, repent of 
it, and forsake it. 

In the above do we not see most clearly, that, 

1. Sinners, unrenewed, are not fit for heaven. Reader, 
what would you do in heaven, if admitted there ? You have 
no love to God. You could not delight in his praise. You 
could not be happy in the society of those who are filled 
with the love of God. Negative goodness, be it remem- 
bered, is not sufficient. Nor is morality sufficient. Many, 
it would seem, pride themselves on their harmlessness. 



4 DO YOU LOVE GOD 1 

They have injured no one ; they have done, they say, noth- 
ing very bad. This is the amount of their righteousness. 
On this they build their hopes of heaven. But such hopes 
are vain. To he destitute of ffood fruits is damning. Matt. 
25 : 41-43, and 14-30. "Ye have not the love of God in 
you," is the description and condemnation of impenitent, 
unregenerate men. John 5 : 42. It is a sufficient crime to 
be destitute of love to God. Of this crime you are guilty. 
You do not love God. This has been proved. You, there- 
fore, are not fit for heaven. You know you are not, you 
feel you are not. If you die as you are, you must be for 
ever excluded from the paradise of God. Are you willing 
thus to die, and sink down in endless despair ? I know you 
are not. Then why not turn and live ? Why need so much 
urging — so much entreaty ? 

2. Again I remark, you must he horn again, or perish. 
There is no escape. To dream of going to heaven as you 
are, without the love of God in you, w^ith a heart opposed 
to God, and at enmity with him, Rom. 8 : 7, is folly and 
madness. There must be a change, or you are lost. The 
enmity of your heart must be subdued, and a principle of 
holy love be begotten within you. You must be renewed 
in the spirit of your mind, Eph. 4 : 23 — become a new 
creature in Christ Jesus, 2 Cor. 5 : 17 — experience the 
washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost, 
Titus 3 : 5 — be born again, John 3 : 5-8— born of the 
Spirit^ or you will perish in your sins and sink to hell. 
Ask, that you may receive. Luke 11 : 1-13. And beware 
how you resist and grieve the Spirit ! He will not always 
strive. Gen, 6:3. If you grieve him away, you are for 
evermore undone ! yield to his influences. Submit to 
God without delay. Repent and believe. Receive Jesus 
Christ as your Saviour and you shall receive remission of 
sins. He is your only hope. Reject him, and you are 
lost ; " He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, 
shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." 
Prov. 29 : 1. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETV. 



JVo. 418. 

WILL IT EVER BE KNOWN? 



Yes, conscience will tell of it. Conscience is a traitor ; 
and when you trust her with your secret sins, you must not 
be disappointed if she betrays you. She was on the spot, 
and recorded them. She tried to restrain you ; she whis- 
pered in your ear not to do the fearful deed ; and because 
you would not listen to her, she told you then that she 
would publish it to the world. 

More than twenty years rolled away, and Joseph's 
brethren appear to have had no compunction for their 
crime. They had kept the secret, and no doubt imagined 
that it would for ever lie buried in their own breasts. But 
in the providence of God, they were sent into Egypt, and 
by a cluster of circumstances, stood agitated and trembling 
before that very brother whom they had so cruelly sold as 
a slave. "Joseph knew his brethren, but they knew not 
him." Yet conscience could no longer sleep; ''And they 
said one to another. We are verily guilty concerning our 
brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul when he 
besought us, and we would not hear ; therefore is this dis- 
tress come upon us," 

A " fire not blown" consumes the man who has a guilty 
conscience. In the midst of laughter, his heart is sorrow- 
ful. Like that pagan monarch surrounded by his guards 
and princes, and amid all the delights of music and ban- 
queting, he is terrified by a sentence which he cannot even 
understand. 

Conscience is the great betrayer of secret sin. It would 
seem to be one of the laws of God's moral government, that 
the apprehensions and forebodings of the mind under the 
influence of remorse, should, sooner or later, force the 
offender to the confession of his own guilt, and to be the 
publisher of his own shame. No vigor of intellect, no 
strength of nerve, no sworn purpose of secrecy is able to 
withstand the urgent pressure of an incensed conscience. 
When God commands her to speak, she will speak, and 
speak out, to the confusion of the worker of iniquity. Noth- 

VOL. XI. 6 



2 WILL IT EVER BE KNOWN ? 

ing can surpass the outward murmurings of that inward 
condemnation which the terrified mind feels when bleeding, 
writhing under the agonies of an accusing conscience. You 
can clothe yourself with no splendor of which conscience 
will not divest jou ; you can enter no solitude where con- 
science "will not follow you : conscience will make you pale 
on your lonely pillow ; and even in your soundest slumber 
she will whisper, "Thou art the man." 

And the 2^^'ovidence of God will tell of it. " His eyes 
are upon the ways of men." There is " no darkness, neither 
shadow of death, where the workers of iniquity may hide 
themselves." In a thousand ways, unknown and unsus- 
pected by you, he can bring it to light. Men are sometimes 
most unaccountably infatuated in the commission of what 
they themselves suppose to be secret sin. Saul spared 
" the best of the sheep, and the oxen, and the fatlings," 
themselves to proclaim the sad tale of his disobedience. 
Your wonted prudence may forsake you, and you may act 
as if you were determined to be your own accuser. The 
very plans which you have devised with the greatest art 
for concealing your guilt, may lead to disco ver}^ God is 
above you. Say not, "Can he judge through the dark 
cloud ?" He so controls and governs all your devices, that 
their very secrecy may prove the occasion of their disclos- 
ure. He has your heart, your Uiys at his disposal, and he 
can make them tell the mournful and astounding tale of all 
your secret wickedness. 

If " the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout 
the whole earth, to show him strong in behalf of those 
whose heart is perfect towards him," so are they ever pres- 
ent and ever w^akeful to discover the secret transgressor. 
Your eye cannot see him, your ear cannot hear him, your 
touch cannot feel him, nor is he in any view the object of 
your senses ; yet are you everywhere encircled w^ith God. 
No darkness, no distance hides you from God. You can- 
not be so unknown, or so forgotten by men, but that He 
who sees the sparrow and the worm, and counts the sands 
on the shore, inspects you with his omniscient eye. It is a 
comfort to the people of God, amid all the sorrows that 
are unknown to men — sorrows which they cannot or may 
not disclose — that God sees them. And what a discomfort 
to the wicked ! What fearful terrors to the secret trans- 



WILL IT EVER BE KNOWN 1 3 

gressor amid sins with which no human being sympathizes, 
and which neither friends nor foes have witnessed, that God, 
the great Witness and Judge, sees them all, and that the 
voice of his own almighty providence will publish them to 
the world. 

JEvil spirits will tell of it. They know it who tempted 
you to commit the wickedness, Avho helped you to palliate 
its aggravations, and who promised you the veil of secrecy. 
They were artful in leading you into embarrassment and 
difficulty ; but they will be faithless to rescue you. They 
wait only for the permission of their great Sovereign, not 
only to proclaim your folly, but unmercifully to aggravate 
it. The devil despises you for being the victim of his de- 
vices ; and he is just mean enough to triumph over you 
when 3^ou have fallen. He is your greatest enemy, and 
seeks nothing more than to involve you in difficulty, and 
then cover you with confusion. He is familiar Avith scenes 
of wickedness. He notes and marks them all, and visits 
them to see who is there, and to lend a helping hand in all 
their iniquity. And no sooner do you become the victim 
of his subtlety, than his revengeful and malignant heart 
boasts and glories that you were taken captive by him at 
his will. 

Holy angels will tell of it. Though unseen by you, 
they saw what you so vainly hoped to conceal. They 
noted it down. They have preserved it in long remem- 
brance, and are witnesses against you. They were grieved 
when you committed it, and wondered at your presump- 
tion. They stood near you, and entreated you not to do 
that abominable thing which God's soul hateth. They 
were commissioned to come down from heaven on purpose 
to resist the seductions of those evil spirits that were tempt- 
ing you. But you would not listen to them. They could 
have foiled the great adversary but for you. But you 
would not be diverted from your purpose ; and now these 
holy and angelic ones stand ready to attest your folly. 

Men will tell of it. They know it too. Your accom- 
plice knows it. All your guilty companions know it. And 
the oath of secrecy will be dissolved whenever selfishness 
and pride shall become the gainers by the perjury. 

There was another who was witness to it. His grim 
form stalks unseen amid the frequented and the solitary 



4 WILL IT EVER BE KNOWN ? 

abodes of men. His ghastly eye was there ; and on his 
ear fell that soft whisper, those still and almost sepulchral 
breathings, that were never designed for mortal man. All- 
pervading, unrelenting Death, will reveal the secret. Noth- 
ing shall have power to silence his testimony. He shall 
come up into your windows ; he shall have a place near 
that pillow of anguish, there to recount your crimes and 
fill you with reproaches. 

"And after death, i\\Q judgment.'" This is the great 
revealer. "The Lord himself shall descend from heaven 
with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and the trump 
of God." The Son of man shall come with power and 
great glory, and all nations shall stand at his bar. Sover- 
eigns and slaves shall be there. Rich and poor, young and 
old, male and female, every saint and every sinner shall be 
there. Deeds of solitary wickedness shall then stand forth. 
Deeds long forgotten shall then be remembered. Deeds 
committed under the veil of night and darkness shall then 
be set in the light of God's countenance. Deeds done far 
away from human eyes shall no longer lose their atrocity 
in the distance of place, or time, or retirement ; but every 
eye shall see them. The sentence of the world will be of 
little moment then, compared with the judgment of God ; 
and yet will his judgment be sanctioned, and justified, and 
honored, by the unanimous concurrence of the world. The 
magnificent scenes of that day, and all its solemn splendor, 
impressive and affecting as they will be, will be lost sight 
of in the more impressive and affecting developments of 
human character. God will do justice to the secret trans- 
gressor then ; and the secret transgressor will be constrained 
to do justice to himself. His history shall no longer be 
secret, and he shall no more ask the question. Will it ever 
he known? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 419. 

THE 

LOGIC OF THE LIFE. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 
BY REV. HUGH STOWELL. 



There is one way, and that the best way, in which the 
simplest and least learned believer may meet and confute 
the subtlest infidel — not so much by words, as by deeds ; 
not so much by the logic of the lip, as by the logic of the 
life. I shall best make my meaning plain by a simple ac- 
count of what lately happened in my own neighborhood, 
and partly under my own eye. 

John is a dyer ; and mingling with men of bad 

character, he had become a drunkard, a blasphemer, a cruel 
husband, a noted boxer, a practical infidel. As is usual 
in such cases, his house was the home of wretchedness, un- 
furnished and deserted ; his wife was in rags, his cupboard 
empty, and debt and shame were his constant companions. 

About three years ago, through the efforts of an assist- 
ant of mine, his wife was induced to open her house for a 
cottage lecture ; and the husband, after a time, began to 
steal into the back part of the dwelling during the little 
services, and to lend a half-unwilling ear to what was going 
on. It pleased Him " who leads the blind by a way that 
they know not," to reach his conscience in this manner. 
He became very uneasy, and in spite of his mean clothes, 
began to attend church. For a time his anguish of mind 
was greater than can be told. But at last that Saviour 
who came "to bind up the broken-hearted," and who died 
on the cross to save sinners, manifested himself to him as 
he doth not to the world, giving him " beauty for ashes, the 
oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit 
of heaviness." 

The calm morning after a stormy night is not a greater 

VOL. XI. Q^ 



2 THE LOGIC OF THE LIFE. 

change than that which follo^yed in the hfe and lot of hap- 
py John. All things became new. His house was made 
tidy, and one piece of furniture after another was purchased, 
till the whole face of his cottage was changed. His wife 
and himself, decently dressed, were in their places at church 
whenever the sabbath- speaking bell bade them to the house 
of prayer, and ere long they were seen side by side at the 
table of the Lord. 

A light thus put on a candlestick, could not be hid. So 
striking a change in one who had been so notorious, called 
forth much notice. He became a wonder unto many. Some 
admired, others mocked, and many persecuted him. His 
former infidel companions were more especially mad against 
him. They jeered him, reproached him, enticed him, swore 
at him, and did all in their power to draw or to drive him from 
his Saviour. But deeply sensible of his own utter help- 
lessness, he clung to the strength of God, and thus, " out 
of weakness being made strong," his enemies only served 
to prove his faith, exercise his patience, and increase his 
watchfulness. The blast of temptation, which lays in the 
dust the plant which our heavenly Father hath not planted, 
only roots the deeper every " tree of righteousness" which 
he has planted in the garden of his grace. 

John had most to bear at his daily labor in the dye- 
house. It was his hard lot to work amongst a band of low 
infidels, and they had it nearly all their own way. For a 
time, indeed, two men timidly took the Christian's part ; 
but after a while, even those, worn out by annoyance and 
ashamed of the cross, deserted both him and their profes- 
sion of religion, becoming apostates, the vilest of the vile. 
The humble confessor was thus left alone, like a sheep in 
the midst of wolves; but he' was not alone, for "the Lord 
stood by him." He was enabled to walk blamelessly and 
unrebukably before them. Sometimes he reasoned with 
them, at other times he entreated them, but most commonly 
he did as his Master had done when beset by his accusers, 
*'he answered not a word." His meekness was the more 
lovely, because he had been aforetime a terror to his com- 



THE LOGIC UF THE LIFE. 3 

panions, nor was there one of them who would have dared 
to provoke him. But now the gentleness of the lamb 
restrained the strength of the lion. 

The quiet influence of John's consistent walk could not 
fail to be felt. His life was harder to answer than his 
tongue. A beautiful proof of this occurred one day, and 
shall form the point of my little narrative. His fellow- 
workmen had been nearly an hour decrying Christianity as 
the source of all crime and wretchedness, whilst they 
boasted what their system would do if fairly tried — what 
peace and purity would reign in their "new moral world." 
John held his peace for a long time, till at last " the fire 
kindled," and lifting up his voice, he turned upon them, 
and said feelingly, but firmly, " Well, I am a plain-dealing 
man, and I like to judge of the tree by the fruit it bears. 
Come, then, let us look at what your principles do. I sup- 
pose they Avill do in a little way what they would do in a 
great. Now there," said he, pointing at the two apostates, 
" are Tom and Jem, on whom you have tried your system. 
What then has it done for them ? When they professed 
to be Christians, they were civil, sober, good-tempered ; 
kind husbands, and fond fathers. They were cheerful, 
hard-working, and ready to oblige. What are they now ? 
What have you made them ? Look at them. How changed 
they are. But not for the better. They seem downcast 
and surly ; they cannot give one a civil word ; their mouths 
are full of cursing and filthiness ; they are drunk every 
week ; their children are nearly naked ; their wives broken- 
hearted, and their houses desolate. There is what your 
principles have done. This is the ' new moral world ' they 
have made. 

" Now, I have tried Christianity ; and what has it done 
for me ? I need not tell you what I was before ; you all 
too well know. There was not one of you that could drink 
so deeply, or swear so desperately, or fight so fiercely ; I 
was always out of humor, discontented, and unhappy. My 
wife was starved and ill-used : I had no money, nor could 
I get any thing upon trust. I was hateful and hating. 



4 THE LOGIC OF THE LIFE. 

What am I now ? What has religion made me ? Thank 
God, I am not afraid to put it to you. He has helped me 
to walk carefully amongst you. Am I not a happier man 
than I was ? Can you deny that I am a better servant to 
my master, and a kinder companion to you? Would I 
once have put up with what I daily bear from you ? I 
could beat any of you as easily as ever : why don't I do it? 
Do you hear a foul word come out of my mouth ? Do you 
ever catch me in a public-house ? Is there any one that 
has got a score against me ? Go and ask my neighbors if 
I am not altered for the better. Go and ask my wife ; she 
can tell you. Go and see my house ; let that bear witness. 
God be praised for it, here is what Christianity has done for 
me : there is what infidelity has done for Tom and Jem." 

He stopped. The appeal was not to be withstood. 
For that time, at least, the scoffers had not a word to 
answer. They were overpowered by the eloquence of 
example. 

My brethren of the working class, follow this beautiful 
pattern ; " With well-doing put to silence the ignorance of 
foohsh men." " Be not afraid of their terror." " Witness 
a good confession." Stand fast, like Daniel before the den 
of lions, or Shadrach, Meshack, and Abednego, before the 
burning fiery furnace. If you cannot argue, you can 
act. If you cannot reason down, you can live down the 
artful infidel. There is a logic of which, through grace, 
you may be masters — a logic so simple that a child can 
understand it — so conclusive that a philosopher cannot dis- 
prove it : it is the logic John made use of — the logic of the 
life. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIKTV. 



IVo. 4^0. 

THE 



INQUIEING-MEETING. 



During one of those seasons of religious attention with 
which the churches in New England have been visited by 
the Holy Spirit, I employed a few weeks in the interior of 
the country. It was the month of August. The early har- 
vest still waved in rich and brown luxuriance over hill and 
vale, and formed a delightful and welcome contrast to 
the heated walls, burning pavement, and arid atmos- 
phere of a crowded city. Mountain and river, the vivid 
verdure and refreshing breezes of a rural sky, the dense, 
dark forest, with emphasis and sweetest harmony seem- 
ed to say, " Marvellous are thy works, Lord God Al- 
mighty, in wisdom hast thou made them all!" 

There was every thing in the scenery that invited to 
heavenly contemplation. Why, thought I, are not the 
dwellers in these tranquil and inviting regions all the 
devoted children of God 1 What is there here to allure 
the soul to fellowship with earth 1 I knew, indeed, that 
human nature is the same every where, and that the same 
general virtues and vices are to be found in both city 
and country. But the febrile excitement, the stimulated 
intercourse, the wealth, luxury and dissipation, the pomps 
and vanities of the world, the refinements of philosophy, 
and the gross vices which exert so powerful and melan- 
choly an influence in populous cities, seemed here to 
have no power. The rural christian is placed in circum- 
stances most favorable to his best moral habits and 
feelings. His trains and associations of devoted thought 
seem to spring up and flow spontaneously, like the stream 
that flows from a fountain of living water. Love to God 
— communion with God — devotedness to God, seem al- 
most natural to such exemption from care, to the solitude 



2 THE liM^UIKl.NCi-MEKTI.NG. 

of such retirement, to such persuasives to hallowed me- 
ditation. I was irresistibly reminded of those beautiful 
lines of Cowper ; 

" Far from the world, O God, I flee, 

" From strife and tumult far; 
" From scenes where Satan wages still 

" His most successful war. 

" The calm retreat, the silent shade, 

" With prayer and praise agree ; 
" And seem by thy sweet bounty made 

" For those that follow thee." 

It was towards the close of the week, and just as the 
lengthened shadows reminded us that the sun was going 
down, that we drew near a quiet and lovely village in the 
county of Berkshire, not far from the luxuriant men, 
dows beautified by the Housatonic River. Every thing 
was still, except here and there a hurried effort in the 
field to prepare for the approaching Lord's day. We 
alighted at the village hotel just as the sun went down. 
There was a tranquillity — an air of seriousness about 
the place to which we had not been accustomed even in 
the best conducted inns of New England, which led us 
to congratulate one another in the anticipation of a plea- 
sant Sabbath. And what added not a little to our antici- 
pations, we learned in the course of the evening that 
our host was a pious man, and that there was a revival 
of religion in the village of several months standing. 

Our expectations in relation to the approaching day 
were not disappointed. It was the week of the most 
powerful influence of the Divine Spirit upon the people, 
and of this week the Sabbath was the crown. I shall 
never forget the tenderness and solemnity of this day. 
The unbroken silence of the morning — the quietness and 
decency of the inn — the respectful deportment of the 
attendants— the delightful season of family worship, in« 



THE INQlTIRJiSG-MEETlNG. J 

terrupted by no blowing of horns, or arrival and departure 
of stages — the tears which trickled down the withered 
cheeks of an elderly lady, more venerable for her piety 
even than for her years, as we sung, Welcome, sweet day 
of rest — all led us to respond to the sentiments we had 
just been reading, " Surely the Lord is in this place, and 
1 knew it not !" 

As the first bell was ringing for church, I saw the vil- 
lagers crossing the plain from every direction, and going 
into the school-house. It was a meeting {oy prayer. It 
had caught the eye of Mrs. S. before it had caught mv 
own, and she was just descending from her chamber, 
with her bonnet on her arm, to say. Let vs not miss the 
piayer-meeting. We hastened across the green and took 
our seats in a remote corner of the building. It was 
truly the hour of prayer. Confession, thanksgiving, en- 
treaty — so humble, and yet so confiding — so confiding, 
and yet so unpresumptuous — so importunate, and yet so 
submissive, distinguished their addresses to the throne, 
that we could not but feel that it was given them to have 
power with God. 

At ten o'clock the meeting quietly dispersed, and we 
repaired to the church. We were strangers, and yet no 
eye seemed to wander but our own. And ours not long. 
The prayers, the praises, the appearance of the assembly, 
the awful stillness, the deep thought and suppressed 
emotion of the worshippers, told us that it was none 
other than the house of God and the gate of heaven. I 
was acqudinted with the pastor, and assisted him in the 
services of a part of the day. He was one of the staid 
sons of the pilgrims — with more sense than sound — and 
yet knew well how to employ the 

" Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," 
His theme was, How can we escape, if we neglect so great 



i THE IISCiUmilVG-MEETlNG. 

salvatio7i ? He spake not in the enticing words of man's 
wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and with 
power. He rose with the sacredness and grandeur of 
his subject, till it seemed as though his message pro- 
ceeded from the throne of God, and reached the con- 
sciences of all his auditory. I had always respected and 
loved him, but never so much as now. It was not the 
declamation of enthusiasm, but the power of truth. It 
was logical, and yet mingled with ardent and impassion- 
ed emotion. When he came to speak of the sinner's 
perdition, he wept. And who did not weep 1 How worth- 
less and insignificant, thought I, are all other interests 
and claims, when compared with the interests of im- 
mortal truth, and the claims of eternity ! Such was my 
old friend, the village pastor. His faithful reproof — 
his affectionate spirit — his meekness of wisdom — his 
gentleness and simplicity — his holy zeal and unostenta- 
tious love — his devotedness to the cause of truth and 
the honor of God — these, thought I, are characteristics 
in the ambassador of Christ which 

" Allure to brighter worlds, and lead the way." 

The subject of the afternoon discourse was, And when 
he beheld the city he wept over it. Nor could I refrain 
from saying, with the disciples on the mount, " Lord, it 
is good to be here." 

At the close both of the morning and afternoon ser- 
vice, notice was given of a meeting for prayer in the 
school-house, and a meeting foi religious inquiry in the 
academy, both to be attended in the evening. After 
church, we accompanied the pastor and took tea with : 
his family. No sooner were we seated in the parlor, 
than it was obvious that deep solicitude was felt for the 
results of this Sabbath, and strong confidence was express- 
ed that the gracious Lord had appeared in his glory. Two 



THE INQUIRING-BIEETING. 5 

of the dear children of the family and a female domestic 
nad returned from the sanctuary in deep distress, and 
with their heads bowed down like a bulrush. The daugh- 
ter could not suppress her emotions, and exclaimed, 
father ! how shall I escape ? We were all affected, and 
for several moments none of us could speak. The 
mother looked towards me, and I took my seat by the 
side of her weeping child. After some conversation, the 
father proposed a little family prayer-meeting, during 
which, after singing the fifty-first Psalm, two prayers 
were offered with a special view of supplicating the Di- 
vine presence with the exercises of the approaching 
evening. While seated at the tea-table I inquired of my 
friend whether there was "any thing peculiar in the 
inquiring-meeting, or any peculiarity in his manner of 
conducting it 1" — " No," said he, " none at all. The 
object of the meeting is to give those persons in the 
congregation, who feel an interest in the subject of reli- 
gion, and who desire it, the opportunity of conversing 
with their pastor. But,' added he, " you will attend and 
assist me in the exercises." 

While Mrs. H. and Mrs. S. went to the prayer-meet- 
ing in the school-house, Mr. H. and myself and the 
children went to the inquiring-meeting in the academy. 
It was a large hall, and was nearly filled. I should judge 
there were from one hundred and thirty to one hundred 
and fifty persons present, — chiefly of those who were 
from sixteen to thirty years of age, together with a few 
in more advanced years, and a few who were children. 
All were seated — some with their heads leaning upon 
the railing of the seats — some in a fixedness of look that 
seemed to say, God and eternity are near — some with a 
settled gloom and depression of countenance — some few 
with marks of indescribable anguish — and some with a 
serenity and smile, placid and beautiful as the loveliest 

VOL. XI. 7 



b THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

sky after a storm. I know not what brought the thought 
to my mind, but 1 was instinctively led to dwell a mo- 
ment, in my reflections, upon that beautiful representa- 
tion in the Apocalypse, "And there was a rainbow round 
about the throne." I felt that God was holy. I could 
not look upon the splendor of his unveiled glory. But 
its blazing splendors were all subdued and softened here, 
like the blended coloring of the rainbow. It seemed 
to me that I was within the most holy place ; where I 
had new views of the God that is invisible, and where, 
amid all that was solemn and fearful, this well known 
emblem of his covenant of peace reflected a beauty and 
splendor so soft and gentle, that even the most guilty 
and vile might look upon him and live. This, thought 
I, is that rain of heaven, and these those dews which 
descend so plentifully upon the mountains of Zion, that 
the bow of promise completely encircles the throne. 
The meeting was opened by singing the following hymn : 

" Come, sacred Spirit, from above, 
" And fill the coldest heart with love ; 
" Soften to flesh the flinty stone, 
" And let thy god-like power be knowTi.- 

" Speak, Thou, and from the haughtiest eyes 
*' Shall floods of pious sorrow rise; 
" While all their glowing souls are borne 
" To seek that grace which now they scorn. 

" O let a holy flock await, 
" Num'rous around thy temple gate, 
" Each pressing on with zeal to be 
" A living sacrifice to thee !" 

WHiile this hymn was singing, T observed several per- 
sons drop their heads, and during the short interval of 
rest between the stanzas, heard now and then a deep 
sigh, and beheld some in tears. When the hymn was 
closed, the object of the meeting was briefly stated, and 



THE INQUIRING -MEETING. 7 

all were requested to kneel and unite in prayer. After 
prayer, the pastor himself, together with three other 
gentlemen, who, as I supposed, were officers of the church, 
dispersed themselves throughout different parts of the 
room, and entered into conversation with the individuals 
who were present. Here and there were clusters of per- 
sons, with whom they conversed collectively. The con- 
versation with individuals was sometimes continued two 
or three minutes, and sometimes elicited no answer. 
Sometimes it consisted of a single inquiry and an ap- 
pended observation or two. And sometimes it continu- 
ed for eight or ten minutes. So that at the close of the 
meeting there were none who had not the opportunity of 
a personal interview with their pastor, or some one of 
us who assisted him. The conversation was conducted 
rather in a low tone of voice, and much as it would have 
been had the parties been alone in a private parlor. 
Very much of it I heard, and will now narrate with as 
much accuracy as I can. 

Addressing himself to a middle aged man who sat 
near us, " Do you feel, sir," inquired the pastor, " any 
special interest in the subject of religion V 

" I know not what to say," was the reply. " I do not 
feel as I did a few weeks since. I see that religion is 
important, and I know that I cannot be happy without it. 
The world looks dark to me. But I am for the most part 
very unconcerned. I am ignorant^ and wish you to in- 
struct me, and to deal with me plainly and faithfully.'* 

"Have you ever been sensible," continued the pastor, 
*' that you are the enemy of God \ Do you see for your- 
self, that notwithstanding all his kindness and love, you 
are still unwilling to forsake your sins, and fall in with 
the method of mercy by Jesus Christ V 

"I fear, sir,' said he, " I do not feel this, though I know 



8 THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

it is true. I have no proper conviction of my sins. My 
conscience is right, but my heart is wrong. My con- 
science tells me that God would do me no injustice if I 
should be left to perish. And yet my heart rises in 
dreadful opposition to his justice and sovereignty. I 
feel as though I could not submit to such a God." 

"Do you think such feelings are right 1" said his 
pastor. " Would it be right for angels to feel thus 
towards the ever-blessed God 1 Would it be right for 
saints 1 Is it right in you 1" 

'^ I know it is not right." 

''And will you persist in what you j'ourself acknow- 
ledge to be wrong!" 

'' I know I am wrong ; but what shall I do V 

" what would you do, but be reconciled to Godi 
The blessed Saviour, who shed his blood for you j the 
Holy Spirit, who is now striving with you ; your owti 
conscience, which now reproaches you ; all require you 
to cease from contending with your Maker. These re- 
bellious feelings show you what is in your heart. They 
show you how unfit you are, with such a spirit, to enter 
into the kingdom of God. You must give them up. 
Pray, pray for grace to give them up. They make you 
miserable here, and if persevered in, must make you 
miserable for ever." 

To a young man who had overheard the previous con- 
versation, the pastor said, " Can you give me some ac- 
count of the exercises of your mind, my young friend ?" 

The youth was for a moment too much affected to 
speak ; when his pastor, with a tenderness that seemed 
to forbid reserve, inquired, "When was your attention 
first called up to the state of your own soul 1" 

" The first thing," replied the young man, " that af- 
fected my mind, was at the lecture, the week before 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 9 

last. I saw that I was a sinner, and in danger of endless 
punishment. When I went home I determined to seek 
religion. I made a solemn promise. I read the Bible, 
and prayed several times a day." 

'^ And have you found the Saviour 1" 

" No, I cannot find him." 

"And yet he says. Seek and ye shall find. Him that 
cometh to me^ I will in no wise cast out. Does it seem 
to you that Christ is either unable or unwilling to saveV 

"I will tell you," replied the young man, "just how 
I have felt. The last Sabbath morning you preached 
from these words. The heart is full of evil. I thought 
you were personal in your remarks. You showed me 
what a wicked heart I had, and how full of evil it was. 
I thought that all the people were looking at me, and 
that you were showing them my wicked heart. And I 
was displeased and angry. But when I went home, I 
was very much distressed. My mother said nothing to 
me, and this distressed me more. I overheard her pray- 
ing for me in her chamber, and this distressed me still 
more. I went and tried to pray for myself, and I could 
not pray, and this distressed me more still. I felt that I 
was lost. I thought I should never find an interest in 
Christ. It seemed to me that I was so wicked I must 
perish." 

" And how has it been with you through the week 1" 

"Just the same, sir. When I read the Bible and try 
to pray, I feel that God is all the while angry with me." 

" He is a holy God, and cannot look on sin." 

" sir," replied the young man, " I know I must pe- 
rish unless God take away my obstinate heart, and give 
me a heart of flesh." 

" It is indeed so," replied his pastor. " Except a man 
he horn again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.''^ 

" I know it, sir, I know it. Never can I enter into that 
kingdom with such a heart." 

VOL. XI. "^* 



10 THE INQUIR1NG-3IEETIXG. 

" J\'^o, never /" was the reply ; and it was uttered with a 
tenderness and solemnity with which a father would ad- 
dress a dying child. "And never, unless God give you 
up to awful blindness, can you be happy any more on 
earth, with such a heart." 

" Sometimes," said the young man, " the thought cross- 
es my mind that I had rather go back to my former stu- 
pidity than remain as I am." 

*' my dear young friend," said his pastor, " strive and 
pray against such thoughts as these. The adversary 
would tempt you to such thoughts, and triumph over his 
poor deluded victim, if he could thus stifle these con- 
victions. He Kinows you would gain nothing by going 
back, but become ten-fold more the child of hell than be- 
fore. You may get rid of this distress, and lose these con- 
victions ; but believe me, it will be only for a little while. 
They will all return, either in this world or another, and' 
in ten-fold power. And there will be nothing to relieve 
them then : — no inviting Saviour — no mercy-seat — no 
hope of pardon — no mighty Healer — no peace-speaking 
blood of the cross : — no, nothing but an angry God, a 
lost soul, and the most distressing convictions for ever." 

Here the poor young man looked us both full in the 
face without uttering a word. The deep lines of sullen 
dejection were imprinted on his countenance, and he 
could neither weep nor speak. "0 eternity!" said 
the pastor, while a deep sigh involuntarily escaped his 
bosom. "0 eternity! eternity!" responded the youth 
in a whisper, "there will be no end to eternity!" For a 
moment we were all silent. I could not help taking his 
hand and saying with tears, Is there no balm in Gilead 7 
— He wept. '■^Balm,^^ said he, "balm for my wounded, 
guilty soul !" — Here I observed his pastor weep, while 
he distinctly uttered the ejaculation, " Lord, give us help 
from trouble !" 



THE INQUIRI.NG-MEETING. H 

" sir," replied the agitated youth, " what shall I do 1 
I have felt nil this week as though I hated God, and 
would fain flee out of his hands. I have been so long in 
this wretched state of mind, while so many others have 
been brought in rejoicing, that it seems to me as though 
God meant to give me up. It does no good for me lo 
read or pray, so long as God is against me." 

" So long as you are against God," replied his minis- 
ter, almost with an air of severity. " God will do you no 
wrong. He sees you. He hears you. And yet he bears 
with you." And then with subdued and tender accents 
proceeded ; " His love is infinite. Nothing but his patience 
and long-suffering have kept you out of hell so long. 
Nor would he have showed you thus your guilt and dan- 
ger, if he were not willing you should come to repent- 
ance. He wounds that he may heal. He waits that 
he may be gracious. There is bread enough in your 
Father's house, and to spare. O against what love are 
you uttering these ungrateful complaints ! If you ever 
become his child, you will wonder that you stood out so 
long against his love and mercy." 

There was a young lady just behind us, whose coun- 
tenance wore a very different appearance from that of 
this unhappy youth. She was peaceful, and yet solemn ; 
joyful, and yet serious. It seemed as though the foun- 
tains of consolation were springing up in her mind, and 
her very visage shone, I had almost said, like the face 
of Moses when he came down from the mount 

"I perceive, Mary," said her pastor, "that your mirid 
is more tranquil than when I last saw you." 

She looked up and smiled. " I have peace," said she, 
" sweet peace — yet I know not what to think. I fear I 
am growing stupid. And yet I am happy. I am afraid 
it is wrono- for such a sinner as I am to feel so happy " 



12 THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

" What makes you happy V said her pastor. 

"I do not know," said she, "my heart-risings against 
God are gone — and yet I have none of the love I have 
heard others speak of." 

" Does it appear to you that you are entitled to the 
promises of the Gospel V 

" Not that I know of," she replied ; " but my anxiety 
is gone. My fear is that I have lost my convictions." 

"How," said her pastor, "does God appear to youl" 

" God is love. God is in Christ reconciling sinners 
unto himself. He is glorious in holiness, fearful in 
praises, doing wonders." 

" Do you love him V 

With great simplicity she replied, " I think I do not 
hate him now. I have been thinking of his character and 
government, and love to think of them. They do not 
distress me as they did once. You know, sir, they used 
to distress me. But I can think of him now as a sin- 
hating God, without desiring that he should be less holy." 

"Mary," said her pastor, distinctly, "does God appear 
g^lorious in your eyes for being a sin-hating, sin-avenging 
Godl" 

"He does," said she, "appear glorious." 

" What do you think of yourself as a sinner, Mary V* 
inquired her pastor. 

" I have seen my own extreme vileness, sir, and see it 
more and more j and yet I no longer wish to run away 
from God." 

"And \vhat," said her pastor, "do you think of 
Christ 1" 

She simply answered, " His blood cleanseth from all 
sin. ' 

"And can you not believe in him, and receive him as 
your own Saviour, and say, with Thomas, my Lord and 
wy GodV 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 13 

" [ know if I do not believe in him I must perish." 
"You know, too, that God can be just^ and justify 
every one that believeth. This is the record, that God 
hath given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. 
A.nd will you not put honor upon God, by believing in 
him whom he hath sent 1" 

" Indeed, sir, I know not what to say. I do not think 
I am a christian. I do not disbelieve nor distrust God. 
Nor am I afraid to commit myself to the hands of the 
mighty Saviour. But I do not know that I am accepted 
of him. And if not, I cannot complain. I thought this 
afternoon of the Saviour's love for sinners, and felt that 
I could say with Job, ' Though he slay me yet will I 
trust in him.' " And there was so much meekness and 
humility when she uttered this sentence, that I could 
not doubt it bespoke her heart. 

It was the sister of Mary, who, as I was afterward in- 
formed, sat next her. These sisters were two of five 
children who, within a few weeks, had been brought out 
of darkness into God's marvellous light. Elizabeth, of 
whom I am now speaking, was the elder. 

" You expressed some relief from your anxiety," said 
her pastor, " when you were at the meeting last week, 
Elizabeth." 

" Yes, sir, I had some hope of having made my peace 
with God; and I think it is stronger since I saw you." 

" Well, Elizabeth, I will leave my friend to converse 
with you, while I go to another part of the room State 
your views and feelings to him wdth the same frankness 
with which you would to me." 

" What induces you to believe," I inquired, " that you 
have experienced a change of heart ]" 

" My views and desires, sir, are very different from 
what they once were." 



I't THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

"Pardon me for inquiring, in what particulars they 
are different 1" 

" In many particulars, sir, but especially towards 
God. I used to care nothing about God. I scarcely ever 
thought of him, and felt and acted much as I would have 
done were there no God. But now I think of none so 
much as him. It seems to me I see him every where, 
and every where enjoy him. 

"Are you 5wre," said I, "that there is nothing you 
prefer above Godl" 

"I will not say J am swe, because it is a very easy 
thing for me to be deceived. But if my heart is set on 
any thing more than God, I do not know what it is. I 
am sure it is not wealth ; it is not fashion and pleasure ; 
it is not gay society ; it is not fame, nor any earthly 
good. God is more to me than all." 

" But why do you delight so much in God ]" 

I was struck with her replj--, and wished that all the 
world could hear it — " Why should I not delight in 
him ]"— 

"And is there nothing in God," said I, "that displeases 
youl — no part of his character that you dislike V 

"No, nothing. There is nothing that is wrong. There 
is no blemish. God is infinitely lovely, and he does what 
is right. There is no reason why I, or any one else, 
should be displeased with God." And she said this with 
so much decision and meekness, that I observed it made 
a deep impression on several persons who sat near us. 

"But," said I, "did you never, my young friend, look 
upon God as a hard master, and upon his law as a hard 
and severe law V 

" I used to think so," she replied, " when I thought at 
all. I used often to try to banish God from my thoughts. 
I used to endeavor to reason away my obligations to him. 
I used to think, that as I could not make me a new heart, 



THE INQUIRLNG-3IEETING. 15 

SO, until God performed this work for me, I could not be 
bound to love him, nor blamed for not loving him. In this 
way I used to contend with God, though I was not sensible 
of it at the time. But I have none of these feelings now." 

"You have been a great sinner, then, thus to contend 
with God ]" 

"01 have been a great sinner. I am a great sinner 
still. I know if God should punish me according to my 
ill-desert, I must perish. And if I should perish, I know 
it would be just. It would be right — exactly right.'''' 
Here she wept, and said, " O how wonderful is it, that 
he should forgiv^e such a sinner !" 

" But how can God forgive 1 what becomes of his jus- 
tice 1" 

" Sir, you have told us to-day. He so loved the world 
that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever be- 
lieveth in him might not perish, but have everlasting life. 
The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. He 
who knew no sin was made sin for us, that we might be 
made the righteousness of God in him. I have no hopes 
but here." 

"But how is this," said I, "and what do you under- 
stand by it V 

" I do not know that I can tell you, sir. I am but a 
child in knowledge and grace. It is a very precious 
truth to me, that Jesus died ; that he bore my sins, and 
that his righteousness, in the judgment of God, is count- 
ed as mine." 

"But do you suppose that Christ was a sinner 1" 

"No ; but he bore my sins." 

"And because his righteousness is imputed to you, 
do you consider yourself less guilty and ill-deserving 1" 

" In myself^ sir, I am guilty and deserve to suffer ; but 
in him I hope to be acquitted from the punishment I de- 
serve, because he endured it for me." 



16 THE I^•QUIRL^•G-MEETI^•G. 

"And how does this method of salvation appear to 
your 

"It is just what I need — Christ is my only Saviour. 
He is a full and complete Saviour. His cross is my only 
refuge. 0, sir, I have felt the worth and tasted tlie 
sweetness of the Saviour's dying love, and long to tell 
it to the world." 

" Do you recollect that you were ever displeased with 
the doctrines of the Bible, and felt offended when you 
heard ministers preach plainly its most humbling and 
searching truths V 

" Often, very often. These doctrines were displeas- 
ing to me. They disturbed me. But I do not complain 
of them now." 

" Why 1" 

" I do not know, sir. I cannot say that I understand 
them. But it appears to me that God has a right to do 
what he will with his own. We all deserve to die. He 
hath mercy on whom he will have mercy. I know he 
will do right. I leave all this with God. He is of one 
mind, and none can turn him j and what his soul desireth, 
that he doeth." 

"And how do you feel toward God's people 1" 

" He loves them, and I love them. Thy people shall 
be my people, and thy God my God." 

" How do you feel toward the work of God that is 
going on in this place 1" 

" When it first began, I felt opposed to it. I thought 
we should have a gloomy summer, and that all my mirth 
was spoiled. When our dear father first spoke to us 
about the revival and about our own souls, I inwardly 
sneered, and thought all our pleasures were over. But 
I feel very differently now. It has been a memorable 
summer to our dear family, and to many precious souls 
in this place. It is in my heart to bless God that I did 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 17 

not leave town, as I thought of doing, and that I have 
not been called out of the world before his blessed 
Spirit came down." 

" And who has brought you to this state of mind, and 
given you this peace and joy in believing V 

"None but God. His grace, his almighty and sove- 
reign grace has done it. There was nothing in me. 

' Jesus sought me when a stranger, 
' Wandering from the fold of God.' 

I did not take a step till he led me. I \vithstood him 
as long as I could." 

"And what if he had left you and taken others V"^ 
"It would have been right. I was greatly comforted 
under a sermon our pastor preached from this text : / 
thank thee^ Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou 
hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast 
revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father ! for so it seemed 
good in thy sight. ^^ 

" It is a sweet thought," I replied. " It made the weep- 
ing Saviour rejoice in spirit.'''* 

I now rejoined the pastor. He was just taking his 
seat near an elderly man whose countenance was un- 
meaning and inexpressive. What, thought I, can have 
induced this man to come to the inquiring-meeting \ 
His pastor treated him with a great deal of kindness and 
condescension, and though he was slow to speak, at 
length elicited the state of his mind in the following 
conversation : 

" I perceive you are growing old rapidly, my good 
friend." 

" Yes, sir, I am sixty-eight years of age, a very igno* 
rant man." 

"Have you ever thought much about your soull" 

"No, sir, I have not, I have never read the Bible 

VOL. XI. 8 



18 THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

much. I have not attended church, nor kept the Sabbath." 

"Have you not thought more of the subject within a 
iew weeks 1" 

" I have been to church of late more than I used to 
go, and have been thinking of my sinful and miserable 
condition. But I do not know how to get religion. I 
want to repent and become a child of God, but do not 
know how to do it." 

"Does any one prevent your repenting 1" 

"No, sir." 

" God has done a great deal to lead you to repentance. 
He has given you the Bible, and you say, you have 
neglected it. He has given you his Sabbaths, and you 
have neglected these. He has given you his Son, and 
you have neglected him. He has given you time enough 
to repent, and though he has long been grieved with 
you, yet has he borne with you these sixty years. What 
excuse can you have to offer, when God calls you to his 
bar, why you have not repented 1" 

" I have no excuse, and yet I do not know how to 
repent." 

" Well, I will tell you. Think of your sins. Reflect 
upon them deeply. Think how many they are, and how 
great they are, and how long you have sinned. Recollect 
that they have all been committed against a great and 
holy God ; a God who has been unspeakably kind to 
you, and who has given his Son to die for you ; and be 
humbled and abased that you are such a sinner." 

" O sir, I know I ought to feel so." 

" Think, too, what evil your sins have done. Reflect 
upon your exceeding vileness and turpitude. See how 
your sins have grieved the people of God, and injured 
his cause, and ruined your own soul, and the souls of 
others, and crucified the Lord of glory ; and then loathe 
and abhor yourself, and repent in dust and ashes." 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 19 

*' Ah me !" exclaimed the old man ! " what a sinner I 
am!" 

"Forsake your sins," exclaimed his minister. "Break 
off your iniquity by righteousness, and your transgres- 
sions by turning to God ; and go with an humble and con- 
trite spirit to the cross of Christ, and confess all your 
guilt there, and ask the God of mercy if there can be 
any hope for you now in this eleventh hour." 

" I wish I could do it. It seems to me I would give 
the world if I knew how to go to Christ." 

" I have no doubt you desire to be delivered from your 
present burden, you are anxious to escape from the com- 
ing wrath j but if you saw the plague and vileness of 
your heart, you w^ould see that there is no good thing 
in it, and that the sweet exercises of genuine repentance 
you have never yet desired. Sure I am, that if you truly 
wish to repent, there is nothing in the universe to keep 
you from repenting." 

While we were listening to this conversation, the at- 
tention of the pastor was turned to a lady in a remote 
corner of the room. She was past the meridian of life, 
the mother of several children, and much of a gentle- 
woman in her appearance and mien. One of her daugh- 
ters was present, who had already expressed the hope 
of reconciliation to God. I perceived that her pastor 
addressed her with familiarity, and as though she had 
often been at the inquiring-meeting before. 

Taking a seat on a bench immediately before her, he 
said, " Well, madam, I hope you have given up the con- 
troversy, and enjoy peace with God." 

She shook her head, and remained silent. 

" Do you feel willing to be left behind, while so many 
are pressing into the kingdom of God 1" 

She replied, "I do not see that I can do any thing more 
than I liave done." 



20 THE INQUIRING-BIEETING. 

" Do you think, that when you come to stand at the 
bar of God you will feel that vou have done all that you 
could 1" 

" What can I do more V was her only reply. 

"And what have you done V said her pastor. " What 
have you done, except sin against God all your days % 
And what are you doing now, when his Spirit is so ten- 
derly striving with you, except contending with your 
Maker 1" 

"But, sir, I cannot change my own heart. So tho 
Bible teaches me, and so you have instructed me often." 

" Pardon me for inquiring," said the pastor, " what is 
the object of this remark 1 Do you make it because you 
see and feel it to be true, or because you want an excuse 
for not loving God ] If it is a mere excuse for not giv- 
ing your heart to God, it behoves you to be satisfied 
that it is such an one as God will accept. If it is not 
such as you yourself are persuaded God will accept, 
then do not utter it. Never, never utter it again. But 
if it is not because you want an excuse ; if you feel this 
weighty truth ; if you are deeply sensible that you are 
in the hands of God j if you know that you are so vile 
that unless the living God, by the power of his grace, 
take from you the heart of stone, and give you a heart 
of flesh ; then do you indeed see that you are in a lost 
condition." 

" sir," she exclaimed, " I am just this lost creature ! 
Why did God create mel Why did he give me existence 
only to make me miserable 1" And she burst into a flood 
of tears. 

There was no small emotion in the room. Every per- 
son rfaw what it was to contend with God. Numbers 
seemed moved by sympathy ; but their ears were open 
to instruction. The lady continued weeping, while her 
pastor entreated her no longer to contend with God, and 



THE IIsQUIRIING-MEETlxNG. 21 

resist that sovereign power which alone could save her 
from despair. 

Just at this moment an incident took place, the men- 
tion of which I may not suppress. The daughter of this 
lady was present, and had herself, a few days before, 
found peace and joy in believing. During the previous 
conversation, unobserved, she had removed from a re- 
mote part of the room, and occupied a seat near her 
mother. She was deeply affected by her mother's state 
of mind, and with one arm thrown around her neck, 
and in a low beseeching tone of voice, said. Dear mother I 
the fulness there is in Christ ! Come with us to this 
ocean of mercy /" We were all in tears. We literally 
turned away to weep. " O Mrs. M ," said her pas- 
tor, "the blame is on your side, and not on God's. God 
is right and the sinner is wrong. That ocean of mercy ! 
Will you not repair with your children to that ocean of 
mercy 1" 

There was a young lady occupying a seat near the 
centre of the room, who had gathered around her six or 
seven others not far from her own age, with whom she 
was conversing, though in a subdued and scarcely audi- 
ble voice. 

One of this little cluster I observed wept bitterly. 
What a group ! thought I. How delightful if this little 
company should all be seeking Jesus ! if this youthful 
loveliness, these honors as they just begin to bloom, 
should be devoted to him ! 

" Sarah," said her pastor, " do you retain j^our hope 
of the Divine favor still V 

"O sir," said she, "I have been very happy since I 
last saw you. A little while after you left me I was 
again oppressed with a sense of my desperate wicked- 
ness. I looked up and saw against what a God I had 

VOL. XI. 8* 



22 THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

been sinning all my life long-, and I was oppressed and 
filled with shame. O what a God he is ! How good ! 
how lovely I and yet how fearful ! These thoughts of 
God filled my mind with great joy, and it seemed as 
though I could do nothing but admire the excellency and 
loveliness of God. God was very near to me. I could 
not help thinking how delightful it was to live in God's 
world — to be his creature — to be in his hand — to be his 
child — to call him my Father, and to love and trust him 
for ever." 

"The Bible," observed her pastor, "if I mistake not, 
speaks of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ^ 

"Yes, sir," said she, "I see an infinite fulness and 
sufficiency in this salvation. He is a hiding-place from 
the storm, a covert from the tempest, as rivers of water 
in a dry place, and as the shadow of a great rock in a 
weary land. I think I can say, Lord, I believe, help thou 
mine unbelief. But, sir, these dear friends of mine — I 
thought I could certainly persuade them all to come to 
Jesus ; it seemed to me so easy to come to him, and so 
wicked to stay away ; and Christ appears so lovely. 
But O, sir, I cannot persuade them. I desire to take 
them all in my arms and carry them to Christ." It seem- 
ed as though the young ladies could scarcelj'^ refrain 
from loud weeping. I was waiting to hear what my 
friend would address to this interesting circle, but he 
simply repeated the following lines : 

" Welcome, welcome, dear Redeemer, 

" Welcome to this heart of mine; 
" Lord, I make a full surrender, 

" Every power and thought be thine : 
" Thine entirely, 

•' Through eternal ages thine."' 



THE INCiUIRING MEETING. 23 

There was one person present, who, from his appear- 
ance, I judged moved in the higher walks of society, and 
who, from iiis conversation, was a very intelligent man, 
and not ignorant either of letters or the world. I after- 
wards learned that he was a counsellor at law, of very 
respectable standing in his profession, and the father of a 
numerous family. As we drew near him, he rose and ex- 
tended his hand to his minister, and remarked : 

" Sir, this, I presume, is as unexpected to you, as to 
me." 

" It affords me great pleasure," replied the clergyman, 
" to meet you here. Are not some of your children in 
the room V 

" One of my sons I saw as I entered the door. Two 
weeks ago I should have been not a little displeased to 
have known of his being present at such a place, but I 
rcjulce now to meet him even here." 

"Your views of religious subjects then are somewhat 
changed V 

" I was once a confirmed universalist, as you \veU 
know." 

"And what has disturbed you in this belief?" 

" Not long after the day of fasting and prayer, which 
was set apart by the church about six weeks ago, I had 
a conversation with my family physician, who is a sen- 
sible and pious man, on the subject of universalism. 
After he left me there was some inquietude on my mind 
I felt unhappy, I knew not why. I took no pleasure in 
the w^orld, and lost my zeal in my profession." 

" Perhaps you feared the doctrine of universalism was 
not true 1" 

"I cannot say that \ feared it was false, or desired it 
might be true. I was desirous to see it as it is, let it 
be true or false. But, sir, I was greatly agitated on tliis 
subject, and so much so that I could not sleep. I took 



24 THE IKQUIRING-MEETING. 

my Bible and turned to those texts which I had long 
considered as a proof of my sentiments ; but, on care- 
fully reading and considering them, they did not appear 
so conclusive as they had done." 

" What were your reflections V 

" I determined I would be on the safe side ; and as I 
knew I had no religion, resolved to attend to it, and to 
1 cpent and believe on Jesus Christ as the Saviour of lost 
sinners." 

"Did you find no difficulty in doing this V 

"I thought I could do it ; and then, if my sentiments 
concerning the salvation of all men should not prove 
true, I should be safe. Accordingly I set about it, but in 
a few days I relapsed into my old careless habits. This 
alarmed me, and I resolved to enter on the business 
again. Again I relapsed into carelessness, and again I 
resolved to become religious ; but to no better effect 
than before, until at length I felt in some measure my 
dependance on God to enable me to keep my resolu- 
tions." 

" And what became of your universalism V 

"My confidence in it gradually weakened, and I had 
much anxiety and concern of mind." 

" How did you feel toward those truths of the Bible 
which stand opposed to universalism, and which have 
been so much insisted on during this season of the out- 
pouring of God's Spirit V 

"I contended with them, and even more than I was in 
the habit of doing when I was a confirmed universalist. 
The doctrines of the entire depravity of the human heart, 
and of salvation only by the mercy of God, througli the 
merits of Christ, appeared hard sayings." 

"Have you become reconciled to these doctrines'?" 

"As I was riding alone, God was pleased so to dis- 
cover to me my own heart, that for a considerable time 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 25 

I have no recollection of any circumstance or object 
about me. My attention was so entirely swallowed up 
by the dreadful discoveries of my own sinfulness, that 
I knew of nothing else which passed in my mind, until 
at lensrth I found myself miles beyond the place of my 
destination, and the shadows of evening shut in upon 
me. I found my way to such lodgings as I could, but 
could not sleep. There was a heavy load on my mind. 
In the morning I returned home, w^ithout attempting to 
transact my business, and was unable for several days to 
go into my office." 

"Have you found relief? and if you have, how did 
you find it 1" 

"I scarcely know how to answer you, because, though 
I do not feel happy, yet my burden has passed away. I 
found no relief until about ten days since, when feeling 
my absolute dependance on the sovereign will of God to 
dispose of me as he should see fit, I resigned myself in- 
to his hands, sensible that if he should change my vile 
heart I should be saved ; but if not, and he should send 
me to hell, that it would be perfectly just, and I should 
see it and know it for evem" 

" Have you established the worship of God in your 
family 1" 

" No, I have not, but it is my purpose to do so." 

"Will you do it this evening V 

" God helping me, I will." 

I was anxious to hear this conversation continued, 
but a collection of young men were sitting just behiiul 
us, to w^hom I perceived the clergyman was anxious 
to address himself. He remained standing, and in a 
tone of voice which all who were near him could hear, 
said, 

"And which of you, my young friends, has any inte- 
rest in this great subject 1 It is a time when God is draw- 



26 THE INQUmir^G-MEETING. 

ing near, and when it is awfully hazardous to trifle with 
the concerns of the soul." 

For a moment there was no reply. At length one of 
the company said: 

" Sir, we wish to obtain religion. We shall never have 
a better time. If we suffer this revival to pass away 
without becoming the children of God, w^e shall probably 
live and die in our sins." 

"And have none of you," said the minister, "reason 
to believe you have made your peace with God V 

All replied in the negative except one, and he looked 
up as though he would, but durst not give a different 
answer. 

" James," said the minister, " do you think you are a 
christian 1" 

"My distress is gone, sir," he replied, " but I am afraid 
1 am not a christian. I feel w^illing now to be in the 
hands of God. I know that he is great and good, holy 
and gracious, and I am rejoiced that so many are turning 
to the Lord and loving him. But I am afraid I do not 
love him." 

" James," replied his pastor, " I hope you will call and 
see me to-morrow. And you, my young friends, I know 
it is very possible that you may die as you have lived, 
without God and without hope. It is no small matter to 
enter into the kingdom of heaven. You are sinners, and 
under the condemnation of God's holy law. Already are 
you doomed to eternal death, and unless the execution 
of this sentence can be averted, and you can obtain 
pardon from your offended God, you must perish. But 
to obtain pardoning mercy, you must first see that you 
need it. You must see and feel that you are lost. Lost I 
lost ! lost ! how certainly is the sinner lost, who is 
out of Christ ! Death may come and find you lost. And 
then you cannot escape. No, you cannot escape the 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 27 

damnation of hell. what a view is it to look upon 
such a collection of youth going down to endless, reme- 
diless ruin ! Men and angels might weep over such a 
scene as this." 

As we turned from this interesting group, and ap- 
proached a different part of the room, we passed a young 
lady sobbing almost aloud. The pastor turned back. 

" sir," said she, " I am a poor sinner, going down 
to hell." 

"How long," said the minister, "have you been in 
this state of mind 1" 

" My mind was distressed to-day, under the morning 
sermon; and my distress increased in the afternoon. I 
did not mean to come to this meeting, nor let any body 
know how I felt. But I am undone. I must become re- 
conciled to God, or perish. I have been hanging over a 
precipice all my days, but never saw it until now." 

"And if you see it now, so much the more inexcusa- 
ble and guilty Avill you be if you do not escape the gulf." 

"But how can I escape % I would be glad to do it if I 
could." 

"My young friend, what prevents your escaping but 
your own reluctant heart 1" 

She still wept, and we passed on to a young man, who, 
I afterwards ascertained, was a professor of religion. 

"I did not expect to see you at the inquiring-meet- 
ing," said the minister. 

"I suppose not, sir," replied the young man. "As you 
well know, I once thought myself a christian. Nor did 
[ mean or desire to deceive myself, or be deceived in 
this hope. But when God appeared to revive his work 
among us, I thought it was a favorable season for me to 
enter into the foundation of my hopes, and examine the 
ground on which I stood. This thought was strongly 



28 THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

impressed on my mind, especially for the greater part of 
the night, and I could not sleep for fear I was building 
on the sand. I then solemnly resolved to give up my 
confidence, if I could not find Scripture evidence of a 
change of heart. And that evidence I cannot find. I 
am convinced I have never been born of God. On Thurs- 
day evening last at the lecture my hope perished." 

This young man was in deep distress. It seemed to 
me that he saw himself in the gall of bitterness and 
bonds of iniquity I could not help saying within my- 
self, " The spirit of a man can sustain his infirmity, but 
a wounded spirit who can bearV "Though I have pro- 
fessed religion," continued this distressed youth, " al- 
most four years, yet I just beg-in to feel that the Bible 
is true, that God is in earnest, that I am a lost sinner, 
and wholly in the hands of a sovereign God." 

Why is it, thought I, that ministers and the people of 
God have so much more sympathy for those who are 
professedly impenitent, than for the self-deceived] Are 
there no solicitudes for the false professor ] no sympa- 
thies for those who have a name that they live, while 
they are dead 1 There was a mournful tone and empha- 
sis about every thing this young man spoke that sunk to 
my soul. There were great tenderness and sincerity in 
his manner, and I felt that it was truly an awful thing to 
have a hope that might perish when God should take 
away the soul. 

" I scarcely know," said the minister, " how to ad- 
dress you. It may be just as you say, that you have been 
deceived wdth a false hope. God often shows his mighty 
power in undeceiving the deceived at such a time as 
this How kind is it in him to do so, and at a season 
when his Spirit is descending, not only to reclaim the 
backslider and convert the self-hardened, but to awaken, 
and convince, and convert the self-deceived ! Be ever 



THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 29 

grateful to God, my young friend, for opening your eyes, 
and for not leaving you to make this melancholy disco- 
very when it is for ever too late.'' 

" sir," replied he, " I fear it is too late now." 
" Why should you fear this 1" replied his pastor. " It 
is never too late while you have opportunity to repent 
nnd believe the Gospel. The blessed Saviour invites you 
now." 

Toward the lower part of the room, and near the en- 
trance, sat a man of fine visage, gentlemanly appearance, 
and, as I should suppose, nearly fifty years of age. As 
we turned our eyes toward the place where he sat, my 
friend remarked to me, " The gentleman you see near 
the door has been a great opposer of religion. He moves 
in the higher orders of society, has great influence, and 
a strong and well cultivated mind. Nothing could have 
brought him here this evening but the Spirit of God." 
We sat ourselves down beside him, and after a moment's 
pause he himself broke the silence, and as it seemed 
to me, almost abruptly. 

" It is here," said he, " it is here !" 

" What is here ]" replied his minister. 

" It is here, just as you have preached. I hate his cha- 
racter ; I hate his laws ; I hate his government ; I hate 
his Son. I have always acted from a sinful heart. I have 
never done any thing right. I used to think I had done 
many things that were right and acceptable in the sight 
of God ; but I am all wrong. God is angry with me, 
and dooms me to hell. It is impossible for me ever to 
be happy. I shall soon be called to meet death, and 
stand before God ; and I must perish ! It seems to me, 
tliat with every thought, and every breath, I am waxing 
worse and worse, and only preparing to sink deeper into 
hell." 

VOL. XI, 9 



so THE lNQUlKL\(i-JIEETI]\G. 

'• How long, sir," said my friend, " have you been in 
this unhappy state of mind V 

" Sir, it is now three days, and it seems to me I can- 
not live. I heard to-day that my son is happy in the 
hope of the Gospel, and this has greatly distressed me 
on my own account." 

"And can you not come and accept of mercy 1 All 
things are ready. The Son of man came to seek and 
save that which was lost. Why should you not take the 
water of life freely \ God makes no hard conditions." 

" They are hard to me, I feel that I can never save 
myself. If God does not take away my obstinate heart, 
and make me willing in the day of his power, I am as 
certain that I shall sink to hell as that I am now in this 
house of prayer." 

"I know it is so," replied the minister, "but is there 
not hope in that sovereign, omnipotent grace, when 
every other hope is fled V 

"There is," replied the trembling sinner, "hope no 
where else. But to my mind it is awfully uncertain 
whether God will ever consent to make me a vessel of 
mercy. I am so vile that it seems to me I musi be left 
to perish." 

"I know," replied his minister, "that it would be right. 
God may leave you to be the victim of your own obdu- 
racy. I cannot help you. No creature can help you; 
you are in God's hands." 

" Yes," said he, " as the clay is in the hands of the 
potter." 

" Go, then, go to his mercy-seat, and throw yourself up- 
on his sovereign power and love. Tell him you deserve 
to die ; but inquire of him whether there may not yet be 
liope. Go in the name and love of Jesus the great Me- 
diator. Go in happy and encouraged dependance on 
almighty grace. God says to every convinced sinner, 



THE irs'CiUlKliMG-MEETllNG. 31 

Let him take hold of jiiy strength and he at -peace with mc^ 
a?id he shall be at peace with me.'''' 

" sir," said he, "pray for me." 

We rose to leave him, and just as we were going, we 
heard him say, " Him that cometh to we, / will in no wise 
cast outy " Yes," answered I, " He is not a man that he 
should lie, nor the son of man that he should repent. It is 
a faithful sayings and worthy of all acceptation^ that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.'''' 

I could perceive that he wept. " I have not a word to 
say," observed he, " if he casts me off." And he wept 
profusely. 

It was now after 9 o'clock, and it was thought best to 
bring the meeting to a close. I have wept with the af- 
flicted in the chambers of mourning. I have stood by 
the couch of the dying sinner. I have passed through 
scenes where some twenty or thirty of my fellow-men 
were in the agonies of dissolution, and groans, and sighs, 
and songs of praise mingled with every breath. But 
never before did I witness such a scene as this. Here 
were the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the 
ignorant and the learned, the mother and the daughter, 
together inquiring what they should do to be saved. 
Here was the alarmed and awakened sinner, just pre- 
pared to suppress the incipient remonstrances of con- 
science, and return to his wonted security, or lay hold 
of a premature and delusive hope. Here was the old 
professor, with all his former confidence shaken and his 
hopes shivering as though they had been blasted by the 
tempest. Here were the burdened and convinced, who 
felt as though their iniquity and their punishment were 
greater than they could bear, who sat speechless and 
condemned, while despair and anguish seemed settled 
on every feature. Here was one whose enmity to God 



32 THE INQUIKING-MEETING. 

but a few days since was so deep-rooted and implacable 
that he seemed almost like a fiend in human form, now 
" clothed, in his right mind," and soft and gentle as a 
lamb. Here was a circle of young converts into whose 
bosom light had dawned like the rays of the morning, 
and who had just begun their everlasting song. And 
here were others who for weeks had been under deep 
dejection ; who complained that wearisome nights were 
appointed unto them, and who were still Avading through 
deep waters and thick darkness. I could not but advert 
to the glory of that scene at Sinai, when the camp of 
Israel trembled, and even Moses said, " I do exceedingly 
fear and quake." But though it was a time of trembling, 
it was a time of awful stillness. It was the still small 
voice which made the prophet " wrap his face in his 
mantle." God was there, and in the glory of his exist- 
ence, power, justice, mercj'', sovereignty and faithful- 
ness. 

I felt no small degree of solicitude that so solemn a 
meeting should leave a right impression on every mind 
present. And while this thought was passing through 
my mind, my worthy brother rose and made in substance 
the following appropriate and affecting remarks : 

My dear friends, I have been deeply interested in this 
meeting. I trust we shall all remember it, and carry the 
remembrance of it to our graves, and to the bar of judg- 
ment. God grant that we may all bear it in humble and 
grateful remembrance, when his ransomed ones come 
to Mount Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 
heads ! 

Some of you, I w^ould fondly hope, God has made will- 
ing in the day of his power. what a subject of con- 
templation to a benevolent mind ! To be redeemed from 
the bondage of sin and receive the adoption of sons j to 



THE IKQUIKING-i^lKETING 33 

be plucked as brands out of the fire, and set forth to 
shine as lights in the world j what a change is this ! 
How immeasurable the goodness of God in making you 
the subjects of his grace and the heirs of his kingdom ! 
Others are left blinded by the deceitfulness and chained 
by the depravity of their own hearts, while you are 
brought out of darkness into God's marvellous light, and 
enjoy the liberty of the sons of God. O will you not 
feel that you are not your own, but bought with a price, 
and glorify God in your body and spirit, which are his 1 
"By Xheix fruits ye shall know them." God grant that 
you may " endure unto the end .'" 

But what shall I say to some persons present! Be- 
loved friends, some of you have never yet seen th^ 
plague of your hearts. You are not thoughtless. Yoj 
are not immersed in the enjoyments of this perishable 
world. You are afraid of death, and eternity, and the 
wrath of God. You have formed solemn resolutions to en- 
ter on a new course of life ; and you do not as yet see any 
insuperable difficulty in your way. But my dear friends, 
you are bound — bound by the cords of sin. Your feet 
stand on slippery places. It is a very doubtful matter 
whether you will ever enter into the kingdom of God. 
You may live through this revival, and become more and 
more hardened. And you may at last see many come 
from the north and the south, the east and the west, and 
sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the king- 
dom of God, and you yourselves cast out. O that my 
head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, 
that I might weep day and night for you who are thus 
grieving the Holy Spirit of God. 

There are some among you also whom I would fain 
comfort, but may not, because they stay away from 
Christ. You feel the burden of your sins, and yet re- 
fuse to come to the Saviour. You fear that you are 

VOL. XI. 9* 



3^ THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

condemned, and well may you fear it. God is angry 
with the wicked every day. So long as you aie out of 
Christ there is cause for fear. If you die without an in- 
terest in his atoning blood, nothing can keep you from 
everlasting burnings. And who can tell when death 
will invade your pillow 1 Who can tell but you have 
well nigh exhausted the Divine long-suffering, and may 
soon be called to give up your account! consider 
that you are going down to hell. This night, this hour, 
turn and live. If you have nothing of your own to plead, 
see the fulness, the unspeakable fulness of Christ. If 
you have no good thing, come as you are to Jesus Christ. 
If you are utterly unworthy, remember it will not make 
you worthy to stay away from Christ. If you deserve 
to sink to hell, come and tell him your ill-desert ; con- 
fess it all ; throw yourselves at his feet ; and cast your- 
selves upon his free and sovereign grace. Go from this 
house humbled and repenting sinners. Go silently to 
your closets. Look not, speak not to creatures, but to 
Christ. He is the hiding-place. He will save you by 
himself alone, or leave you all to perish. He will have 
all the glory, or you shall never join the song of his 
redeemed. 

After these remarks, which were listened to with 
eagerness and tears, we all bowed ourselves before God 
in a short prayer, and the exercises of the evening- were 
closed with the following hymn : 



" Come, ye weary, heavy laden, 
•' Lost and ruined by the fall ; 

" If you tarry till you're better, 
" You will never come at all : 

" Not the righteous — 
" Sinners Jesus came to call " 



THE I^^CiUlRmG-MEETING. 35 

'* Let not conscience make you linger, 

"Nor of fitness fondly dream; 
" All the fitness he requireth, 
'' Is to feel your need of him : 

" This he gives you — 
" 'Tis the Spirit's rising beam. 

" Lo ! th' incarnate God ascended, 

" Pleads the merit of his blood ; 
" Venture on him, venture wholly, 

" Let no other trust intrude : 
" None but Jesus 

" Can do helpless sinners good." 



The last two lines were repeated with a sweet and sub- 
dued emphasis, and seemed to reach every heart : 

" None but Jesus, 
" None but Jesus, 
" Can do helpless sinners good." 

I returned to my lodgings, and gave thanks to the 
Father of lights that I had been permitted to witness 
such a scene. The meeting for prayer in the school- 
room, I learned from Mrs. S , was truly a blessed 

meeting. The next morning we awoke early, and pur- 
sued our journey with emotions we shall not easily for- 
get. We rode over the plain, and began to ascend the 
hills just as the sun dawned. Whether my mind had 
become unusually tranquil and elevated by the scenes 1 
had witnessed, or whether some kind and gracious in- 
fluence moved it at that sweet hour, I cannot tell. But 
joys that were past were brought back upon my soul, 
and I was reminded of the hour when I have hoped old 
things passed away^ and all things became new. I then 
saw God in every thing, and was happy. So now, every 
thing around me was full of God — how full of God ! 
The plain, the village, the distant mountains, as I .stop- 



36 THE INQUIRING-MEETING. 

ped to look back upon them, were delightfully resplen- 
dent with the goodness, wisdonn, and power of their 
great Maker. The very light and atmosphere seemed 
all full of God. My mind was as calm as the soft breezes 
which fanned the forest, and buoyant as its bending fo- 
liage. It seemed to me the face of nature was never 
lighted up with such smiles before. The distant horizon 
was spread out far as the ej'^e could extend itself, like 
the bosom of a peaceful lake. Just hovering over its re- 
mote verge was a deep mild cloud, resembling a chain of 
mountains stretching along for leagues on either side, 
while in its rear the rising sun shed upward his blushing 
radiance every where waking the melody of praise. 



The above is selected from " Fragments from the Study of a Pas 
tor," by Gardiner Spring, D. D. of the city of New-York. 



JVo. 421. 

SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATIONS 

OF 

THE ALL-SUFFICIENCY OF CHRIST, 



It is a fact which cannot be denied, and which need 
not be concealed, that there are many Avho have fallen 
short of the salvation which has been offered to their accept- 
ance. But how is this ? It is not owing to any unwilling- 
ness in the Saviour to receive them. It is just because they 
have rejected him in the spirit of infidelity, like the malefac- 
tor who railed against him on the cross — or lifted up the 
heel against him, like the traitor who betrayed him into the 
hands of his enemies — or abandoned themselves to the 
spirit of persecution, like Herod, who set him at naught and 
mocked him — or perverted the right ways of the Lord, like 
Elymas the sorcerer, who was full of all subtlety and mis- 
chief — or departed from him sorrowful, like the young man 
who had great possessions — or deemed themselves independ- 
ent of the riches of his grace, like the proud Pharisee, who 
trusted in himself that he was righteous, and despised others 
— or satisfied themselves with the form, without the power 
of godliness, like the foolish virgins, who went out to meet 
the bridegroom, but had no oil in their lamps — or sought 
to escape from their conviction, like Felix, who deferred the 
overtures of the Gospel to a more convenient season — or 
manifested the indecision of Agrippa, who, though almost, 
was not altogether persuaded to be a Christian — or lightly 
esteemed the blessings of the great salvation, like Gallio, 
who cared for none of these things. 

But, with regard to all who have come to the Sav- 
iour in the sincerity of their hearts, sensible of their bur- 
dens, their helplessness, and their misery, how different has 
been their experience, and how encouraging ! Just look at 
a few of the cases recorded in the sacred volume, and mark 
how cordial was the reception they met with, yet how 
varied the attitudes in which they appear. 



2 THE ALL SUFFICIE>X^V OF CPIRIST. 

One is standing afar off, "with a cloud on his countenance, 
and a burden cf guilt on his heart, not venturing to lift so 
much as his eye unto heaven : thus did the Pubhcan when 
he smote upon his breast, and gave utterance to the humble 
but accepted prayer, " God be merciful to me a sinner." 

Another appears to be rising up, as if coming to his 
right mind, disgusted with the abominations after which he 
had been walking, and so touched with the tender mercies 
he had hitherto despised, as to be saying in his heart, *' I 
will arise and go to my Father:" thus did the prodigal; 
and his father saw him, even while he was yet a great way 
off, and had compassion, and ran, and fell upon his neck, 
and kissed him. 

Another is in the act of coming to the Saviour, but 
coming secretly, satisfied in his own heart that he is a teacher 
come from God, who teaches savingly and to profit, yet 
afraid of the reproaches of men, and scarce fortified as yet 
for the bold and open avowal of his name : thus did Nico- 
demus, the ruler of the Jews, when he came to him by night. 

Another is coming to him openly, and with great ardor 
and impetuosity of spirit, heedless of every difficulty, and 
in the very face of peril and of death : thus did Peter, 
when he walked alone on the bosom of the dark and tem- 
pestuous sea. 

Another is following after him, but with a less bold and 
intrepid spirit, timid, silent, trembling, shrinking from the 
presence of his awful majesty : thus did the woman who 
came behind him in the press, and touched but the hem of 
his garment. 

Another is running before him, almost afraid he may 
lose the sight of him, yet putting himself in the way by 
which he was to pass, and diligently seeking him while he 
was to be found : thus did Zaccheus, when the Saviour 
looked up and saw him in the sycamore-tree, and said to 
him, " Make haste, and come down ; for to-day I must abide 
at thy house." 

Another is sitting at the very feet of Christ, entertaining 
the recollection of past guilt, and weeping as one weepeth 
for an only child : thus did the penitent in the house of 
Simon the Pharisee, when she washed his feet with her 
tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head. 

Another is lying prostrate on the ground, overwhelmed 



THE ALL SUFFICIENCY OF CHRIST. 3 

with the force of irresistible convictions, and crying out in 
the agony of his spirit, "What must I do to be saved?" 
Thus did the jailer at Philippi, when the glad message fell 
like music on his heart, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and thou shalt be saved." 

Another is seeking for the Saviour, the same Saviour 
whom she had formerly found, and whose footsteps she 
had been following, but whose presence had again departed, 
seeking him with sorrowfulness of heart, seeking him early 
and with intense desire, seeking him in the dark, and at the 
grave where her sins had laid him : thus did the Mary 
Magdalene out of whom seven devils had been cast. 

Others, again, are attending eagerly on instituted ordi- 
nances, or searching the Scriptures with all diligence, such 
as Lydia of Thyatira, whose heart the Lord opened when 
frequenting the place where prayer was wont to be made — 
or Mary of Bethany, who sat at the feet of Jesus listening 
to the words of everlasting life — or Timothy, who from a 
child had known the holy Scriptures which are able to 
make wise unto salvation — or the Eunuch of Ethiopia, to 
whom Philip preached Jesus on his return from Jerusalem, 
where he had gone to worship — or Apollos of Alexandria, 
who was an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures, 
and instructed in the way of the Lord. 

And others still, are occupied with the solemn exercises 
of 2wayer : the blind man crying in his darkness, " Jesus, 
thou Son of David, have mercy on me" — the leper in his 
uncieanliness, " Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me 
clean" — the woman of Canaan in the extremity of her dis- 
tress, " Lord, help me" — the persecuting Saul amid the 
terror of his convictions, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to 
do?" — the woman of Samaria at the well of Sychar, " Give 
me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to 
draw" — the malefactor in his last agonies, " Lord, remember 
me when thou comest into thy kingdom" — and the mar- 
tyred Stephen, with the view of heaven's glories opening 
up before him, " Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." 

It is especially deserving of notice, that in the expe- 
rience of each of these individuals, there was something- 
peculiar or characteristic. Not one of them was possessed 
of the same attainments, or placed in the same position, or 
precisely in the same state of mind as another. There was 



4 THE ALL-SUFFICIENCY OF CHRIST. 

dejection in one, and penitence in another ; timidity in one, 
and anxiety in another; intrepidity in one, and trembhng 
in another ; expectation in one, and Aveeping in another, 
and apprehension in another, and serenity in another, and 
full assurance in another. Nevertheless they were all com- 
ing, or had already come to the Saviour. Therefore none 
of them ivds cast out. They were all treated as children of 
the same family — as believers ; and whether they were 
standing afar off, or coming by night, or sitting at his feet, 
or weeping at his grave, or reclining on his bosom, or look- 
ing to his cross, or interceding at his throne — the throne 
where light is given to the blind, and purity to the unclean, 
and help to the afflicted, and direction to the doubtful, and 
relief to the destitute, and the bright entrance into heaven 
to the dying — still, the Saviour had a kindly look, or a help- 
ing hand, or a word of comfort for them all : and how di- 
versified soever were their cases, the experience of every 
one of them was accordant with the declaration of the great 
Redeemer, " Mm that cometh to me, I iv'dl in no wise cast 
out.'" 

And wliat is the practical lesson taught by these cases, 
and which every man should be anxious to learn for him- 
self ? It is this : that there is an all-sufficiency in the riches 
of the Saviour's grace, that is equal to the necessities of 
your own case, however urgent these necessities may be ; 
if you come to the Saviour as you are, with all your bur- 
dens and with all your miseries, you will assuredly meet a 
kind and gracious reception, and be enabled to set your 
seal to the truth of the Gospel declaration, that it is " a 
faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ 
Jesus came into the world to save sinners, even the chief." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETl. 



]\o. 4S3. 

REFORMATION OF DRUNKARDS. 



Truly we live in an age of wonders. Under peculiar 
influences, hundreds and thousands of once hopeless drunk- 
ards are becoming sober men — yet the work of reform has 
but commenced. It is computed that there are in the land 
no less than five hundred thousand habitual inebriates. The 
condition of each individual calls for sympathy and aid, 
that he may become a sober man, and, through the blessing 
of God, gain eternal life. 

For drunkenness there is and can be no apology ; but 
the condition of the drunkard is often pitiable in the extreme. 
However gradual, or respectable, may have been his prog- 
ress in the descent called temperate drinking, the appetite 
now is formed within him — the drunkard's appetite. 
Wretched man ! He feels what not faintly resembles the 
gnawing of " the worm that never dies." He asks for help. 
There are times when he would give worlds to be reformed. 
Every drunkard's life, could it be written, would tell this in 
letters of fire. He struggles to resist the temptation, causes 
himself to be shut up in prison, throws himself on board a 
temperance- ship for a distant voyage, seeks new alliances 
and new employments, wrestles, agonizes, but all in vain. 
He rises to-day but to fall to-morrow ; and amid disappoint- 
ment and reproach, poverty and degradation, he says, '' Let 
me alone, I cannot live," and plunges headlong to destruc- 
tion. 

Who will come to his rescue ? Who will aid in the 
deliverance of thousands of thousands from this debasing 
thraldom of sin and Satan ? Our aid they must have. 

Their number demands it. Half a million, chiefly adults, 
often heads of families, having each a wife and children, 
making miserable a million and a half of relatives and 
friends. They pass, too, in rapid succession. Ten years is 
the measure of a generation, and if nothing is done to save 
them, in the next forty years two millions may be swept 
into eternity. 

Their personal degradation and suff'ering require it. 
What would we not do to pull a neighbor out of the water, 
or out of the fire, or to deliver him from Algerine captivity, 

VOL. XI. 10 



2 REFORMATION OF DRUNKARDS. 

or wrest him from the hand of a pirate or midnight assas- 
sin ? But what captivity, what pirate, what murderer so 
cruel as Alcohol ? 

Their families -plead for it. The innocent and the help- 
less — the lambs in the paw of the tiger, and that tiger a 
husband and father. Amid hungering and thirsting, cold 
and nakedness, humiliation and shame, sufferings which no 
pen can describe, they ask for aid. 

The good of the community demands it. While they 
live as tliey do, they are only a moth and a curse. The 
moment they are reformed, society is relieved of its greatest 
burden. The poor-house and the jail become almost 
tenantless. 

The 'practicability of a sudden and complete reform of 
every drunkard in the land calls for it. This science has 
denied. Religion has only said, '' With man it is impossi- 
ble, but not with God ; for with God all things are possible." 
But science yields to experiment, and religion marches on 
joyful in the footsteps of Providence. Thousands amongst 
us sa}^ " How it has been done, we know not. One thing 
we know, that whereas once we were drunkards, now we 
are sober men," 

But above all, the salvation of the soul makes it indis- 
pensable. Temperance is not religion. Outward reforma- 
tion is not religion ; but by this reform a great obstacle is 
removed, and thousands of these miserable men may be 
brought into the kingdom of God. The strong chain that 
has been thrown around them by the " prince of the power 
of the air," is broken. They may be approached as they 
never could be before. Conviction of sin is fastened upon 
their conscience. Gratitude inspires their bosoms. Good 
men are, of choice, their companions. The dram-shop is 
exchanged for the house of God. A Bible is purchased. 
Their little ones they bring to the door of the Sabbath- 
school. They flee affrighted from the pit; and, through 
grace, many lift up their hands imploringly to heaven, as 
the only refuge for the outcast, the home for the weary. 
This has been the operation of the reform in England. Of 
thirty-five thousand reformed drunkards in that country, 
fifty-six hundred have become members of Christian 
churches, having hope in God and joy in the Holy Ghost. 
So it has been in Scotland ; many there now sing of grace 



REFORMATION OF DRUNKARDS. 3 

and glory. So it manifestly is in America, and so will it 
be more and more around the Avorld, as ministers and 
Christians meet them in kindness and lead them to the 
Avaters of salvation. 

But what can we do ? How can we aid the poor un- 
fortunate drunkard? This is the question. 

All can do a httle. Some can do much. Every man 
can get out of the way of his reform ; cease setting him an 
example which proves his ruin ; cease selling him an article 
which is death to the soul ; discountenance the drinking 
usages of society, and those licensed and unhcensed dram- 
shops which darken the land. Every man can speak an 
encouraging word to the Avretched inebriate ; tell him of 
what is doing in the land, allure him and go with him to the 
temperance-meeting, and urge him to sign the pledge ; and 
when he has signed, comfort and strengthen him, give him 
employment, give him clothing ; and if he falls, raise him 
up, and if he falls seven times, raise him up and forgive 
him. 

Try it. Christian brother. I know your heart beats in 
gratitude to God for what he has done ; that he has raised 
up a new instrumentality for rescuing thousands of our race 
from the lowest degradation. It is a token of good for our 
country and the world. Enter into this field of labor. 
"You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; that 
though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that 
we through his poverty might become rich." Go imitate 
his example ; become poor, if need be, to save the lost. 
*' Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them 
to come in." 

Try it. Christian philanthropist. "It is good neither to 
eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor any thing whereby thy 
brother stumbleth, or is offended, or made weak." Sacri- 
fices make the world happy, and God glorious. 

Try it. Christian female. It is w^ork for your sex. 
Woman is the greatest sufferer from intemperance : driven 
by it from her home ; made an outcast from all the comforts 
of domestic love, while her babes cry for bread, and she 
has no relief. Lost men will listen to your words of kind- 
ness, be cheered by your benefactions, encouraged by your 
smiles. 

Try it, young men. Have you no companions early 



4 REFORMATION OF DRUNKARDS. 

palsied, withered, and scathed by alcohohc fires, treading 
now on the verge of the drunkard's grave ? Go after them 
in their misery. Go, thanking God that you are not as 
they are. Go, beheving that you may save them ; that 
they will receive you thankfully ; that they must have your 
help, or be lost. Go, and be strong in this work. The 
movements of Providence call you to effort for the unfor- 
tunate and wretched, that you may pull them out of the 
fire. What you do in the blessed work, do quickly. 0, if 
it be in your power to save one young man, do it quickly. 
Run and speak to that young man. He Avill thank you for 
it. His father will thank you. His mother will thank you. 
His sisters will thank you. His immortal soul, rescued and 
saved, will love you for ever. 

TO THE POOR UNFORTUNATE DRUNKARD. 

My Friend and Brother — You are poor and wretched. 
A horrid appetite hurries you on in the road to ruin. Abroad 
you are despised. Home is a desolation. A heart-broken 
wife weeps over you, yet does not forsake you. She hopes, 
she waits for your reform and for better days. Conscience 
bids you stop. But appetite, companions, and custom say, 
One glass more. That is a fatal glass. You rise but to 
fall again, and you feel that you can never reform. But 
you can reform. Thousands and thousands around you 
have reformed, and would not for worlds go back to drink- 
ing. They are happ)^ at home ; respected abroad ; well 
dressed ; well employed ; have no thirst for the dreadful 
cup. They feel for you. They say, " Come thou with us, 
and we will do thee good." Come sign the pledge, the 
pledge of total abstinence. In this is your only hope. This 
is a certain cure. Touch not, taste not, handle not rum, 
brandy, whiskey, wine, cider, beer, or any thing that intox- 
icates, and you will be a new man, a happy man. Begin 
now. Try it now in the strength of the Lord. From this 
good hour resolve that none of these accursed drinks shall 
ever enter your lips. The struggle may be severe, but it 
will soon be over. Say then, " Come life, come death, by 
the help of God I will be free." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 433. 

MY WIFE'S GOLD RING 



It was a practice with John Gaspar Lavater, an emi- 
nent clergyman, born in Zurich, 1'741, to read, every 
morning, one or more chapters in the Bible, and to select 
from them one particular passage for frequent and special 
meditation during the day. One morning, after reading the 
fifth and sixth chapters of the gospel of Matthew, he ex- 
claimed, " What a treasure of morality ! how difficult to 
make choice of any particular portion of it!" After a few 
moments' consideration, he threw himself upon his knees, 
and prayed for divine guidance. 

When he joined his wife at dinner, she asked him what 
passage of Scripture he had chosen for the day. " ' Give to 
him that asketh thee ; and from him that would borrow of 
thee, turn thou not away,' " was the reply. "And how is 
this to be understood?" said his Avife. "These," rejoined 
Lavater, " are the words of Him to whom every thing be- 
longs that I possess. I am the steward, not the proprietor. 
The proprietor desires me to give to him who asks of me, 
and not to refuse him who would borrow of me ; or, in other 
words, if I have two coats, I must give one to him who has 
none, and if I have food, I must share with him who is an 
hungered and in want : this I must do without being asked ; 
how much more, then, when asked." 

This, continues Lavater in his diary, appeared to me so 
evidently and incontrovertibly to be the meaning of the 
verses in question, that I spoke with more than usual 
warmth ; my wife made no further reply than that she 
would well consider these things. 

I had scarcely left the dining-room, when an aged widow 
desired to speak to me, and she was shown into my study. 

VOL. XI. 10* 



2 MY WIFE'S GOLD RING. 

"Forgive me, dear sir," she said ; '' excuse the Uberty I am 
about to take ; I am truly ashamed, but my rent is due to- 
morrow, and I am short six dollars ; I have been confined 
to my bed with sickness, and my poor child is nearly 
starving ; every penny that I could save, I have laid aside 
to meet this demand, but six dollars yet are wanting, and 
to-morrow is term-day." Here she opened a parcel which 
she held in her hand, and said, " This is a book with a 
silver clasp, which my late husband gave me the day we 
were married. It is all I can spare of the few articles I 
possess, and sore it is to part with it. I am aware that it 
is not enough, nor do I see how I could ever repay ; but, 
dear sir, if you can, do assist me." 

" I am very sorry, my good woman, that I cannot help 
you," I said ; and putting my hand into my pocket, I acci- 
dentally felt my purse, which contained about two dollars : 
these, I said to myself, cannot extricate her from her diffi- 
culty, she requires six ; besides, even if they could, I have 
need of this money for some other purpose. Turning to the 
widow, I said, " Have you no friend, no relation, who could 
give you this trifle ?" 

" No, there is no one. I am ashamed to go from house 
to house, I would rather work day and night ; my excuse for 
being here is, that people speak so much of your goodness : 
if, however, you cannot assist me, you will at least forgive 
my intrusion ; and God, who has never yet forsaken me, 
will not surely turn away from me in my sixtieth year !" 

At this moment the door of my apartment opened, and 
my wife entered. I was ashamed and vexed ; gladly would 
I have sent her away ; for conscience whispered, " Give to 
him that asketh thee ; and from him that would borrow of 
thee, turn not thou away." She came up to me, and said 
with much sweetness, " This is a good old woman ; she 
has certainly been ill of late ; assist her if you can." 

Shame and compassion struggled in my darkened soul. 
" I have but two dollars," I said in a whisper, " and she 



MY WIFE'S GOJ.D RING. 3 

requires six ; I'll give her a trifle in the hand, and let her 

go." 

Laying her hand on my arm and smiling, my wife said 
aloud, what conscience had whispered before, " Give to 
him that asketh thee ; and from him that would borrow of 
thee, turn not thou away." 

I blushed, and replied with some little vexation, " Would 
you give your ring for the 2>urpose V 

*'With pleasure," she answered, pulling off her ring. 

The good old widow Avas either too simple or too modest 
to notice what was going on, and was preparing to retire, 
when my wife called to her to wait in the lobby. When 
we were left alone, I asked my wife, "Are you in earnest 
about the ring?" 

" Certainly, how can you doubt it ?" she said ; " do you 
think that I would trifle with charity ? Remember what you 
said to me but half an hour ago. Oh, my dear friend, let 
us not make a show of the Gospel ; you are in general so 
kind, so sympathizing, how is it that you find it so difficult 
to assist this poor woman ? Why did you not, without hesi- 
tation, give her what you had in your pocket ? And did you 
not know that there were yet six dollars in your desk, and 
that the quarter will be paid to us in less than eight days?" 
She then added with much feeling, " ' Take no thought for 
your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink ; nor yet 
for your body, what ye shall put on.' " 

I kissed my wife, while tears ran down my cheek : 
** Thanks, a thousand thanks for this humiliation !" I 
turned to the desk, took from it the six dollars, and opened 
the door to call in the poor widow — all darkened around 
me at the thought that I had been so forgetful of the om- 
niscience of God as to say to her, " I cannot help you." Oh, 
thou false tongue ! thou false heart ! If thou. Lord, shouldest 
mark iniquities. Oh Lord, who shall stand ? " Here is what 
you need," I said, addressing the widow. 

At first she seemed not to understand what I meant. 



4 MY WIFE'S GOLD RING. 

and thought I was offering her a small contribution, for 
which she thanked me, and pressed my hand ; but when 
she perceived that I had given her the whole sum, she 
could scarcely find words to express her feelings. She 
cried, " Dear sir, I cannot repay : all I possess is this poor 
book, and it is old." 

"Keep your book," said I, ''and the money too, and 
thank God, and not me, for verily I deserve no thanks, 
after having so long resisted your entreaties ; go in peace, 
and forgive an erring brother." 

I returned to my wife with downcast looks, but she 
smiled and said, "Do not take it so much to heart, my 
friend ; you yielded at my first suggestion : but promise 
me, that so long as I wear a gold ring on my finger, and 
you know that I possess several besides, you will never 
alloAv yourself to say to any person, ' I cannot help you.' " 
She kissed me, and left the apartment. 

When I found myself alone, I sat down and wrote this 
account in my diary, in order to humble my deceitful heart. 
To preach the whole moral law, and to fulfil only the easy 
part of it, is hypocrisy. Merciful Father, how long must I 
wait, and reflect, and struggle, ere I shall be able to rely 
on the perfect sincerity of my profession ? 

I read over once more the chapter which I had read in 
the morning with so little benefit, and felt more and more 
ashamed, and convinced that there is no peace, except 
where principle and practice are in perfect accordance. 
How peacefully and happily I might have ended this day, 
had I acted up conscientiously to the blessed doctrines I 
profess ! Dear Saviour, send thy Holy Spirit into this be- 
nighted heart ; cleanse it from secret sin ; and teach me to 
employ that which thou hast committed to my charge, to 
thy glory, a brother's welfare, and my own salvation. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



JVo. 424. 

ETERNAL LIFE 

OR 

ETERNAL DEATH AVAITS YOU. 



Many ages ago, the suffering patriarch Job exclaimed, 
"When a few years are come, then I shall go the way 
whence I shall not return." More than three thousand 
years have passed since his expectation has been realized. 
You are now sojourning, for a short time, on earth, but the 
patriarch's language applies to you, and you must soon go 
the way whence you will not return. But whither will that 
last journey conduct you ? It leads to worlds very differ- 
ent from this. Solemn beyond expression are the prospects 
at its close. 

" Important journey ! awful view ! 
How great the change, the scenes how new ! 
The golden gates of heaven displayed, 
Or hell's fierce flames, and gloomy shades." 

The happiness of heaven is unutterable. The righteous 
will be satisfied, when they aAvake in their Redeemer's like- 
ness. Psalm 1*7 : 15. The misery of hell is inconceivable. 
The Lord Jesus, that faithful and true Witness, represents 
a drop of water to cool the tongue tormented in those un- 
dying flames, as a boon earnestly coveted, but never gained. 
Luke 16 : 24. 

Eternity awaits you. Eternal life or death is at hand, 
and one must certainly be yours. Eternity is a duration 
beyond calculation and comprehension. Look at the ground 
covered with innumerable millions of blades of grass, look 
at the leaves that clothe the trees with verdure, and the 
drops of morning dew, and what are these compared to 
eternity ? Repeat these numbers millions of times, yet the 
whole of the mighty sum would be insignificance and nothing, 



2 ETERNAL LIFE OR ETERNAL DEATH AWAITS YOU. 

compared with eternity. And amidst the joys of salvation, 
or the miseries of perdition, this eternity awaits you. 

This truth is fully asserted in God's infallible word. 
Eternal life and happiness are frequently represented to be 
the future portion of the righteous. "This is the record, 
that God hath given to us eternal life ; and this life is in his 
Son." 1 John, 5:11. '' God so loved the world, that he 
gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
him, should not perish, but have everlasting life." John 

3 : 16. "My sheep hear my voice, and I give unto them 
eternal life; and they shall never perish." John 10 : 27, 
28. " This is the will of Him that sent me, that every one 
which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have ever- 
lasting life." John 6 : 40. " Yerily, verily, I say unto 
you, He that beheveth on me hath everlasting life." John 
6 : 47. "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that be- 
lieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and 
whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die." 
John 11 : 25, 2G. "The righteous shall go into life eter- 
nal." Matt. 25 : 46. These are a few of the numerous 
proofs that immortal happiness is the portion of the right- 
eous. They are given in varied language, and the truth is 
presented in different lights, but all show that eternal life 
is theirs. 

With equal plainness and decision, the Scriptures affirm 
that eternity, though a wretched eternity, awaits the impen- 
itent and unconverted. " He that believeth not the Son, 
shall not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him." 
John 3 : 36. "When the Son of man shall come in his 
glory — then shall he say unto them on the left hand. De- 
part from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for 
the devih and his angels. And these shall go away into 
everlasting punishment." Matt. 25 : 31, 41, 46. "They 
shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the 
presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power." 
2 Thess. 1 : 9. "And the smoke of their torment ascend- 
eth up for ever and ever." Rev. 14 : 11 "The fearful, 
and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and 



ETERNAL LIFE OR ETERNAL DEATH AWAITS YOU. 3 

whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, 
shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire 
and brimstone; which is the second death." Rev. 21 : 8. 
" If thy hand ofiend thee, cut it off : it is better for thee 
to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go 
into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched ; where 
their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. If 
thine eye offend thee, pluck it out : it is better for thee to 
enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having 
two eyes to be cast into hell-fire ; where their worm dieth 
not, and the fire is not quenched." Mark 9 : 43-48. Is 
it possible for language to assert in plainer terms the dread- 
ful truth, that eternal misery awaits the unrighteous ? The 
same terms which represent the eternal duration of God, 
and the eternal life of the righteous, are employed to rep- 
resent the everlasting duration of the misery of the lost ; 
and not only so, but in language more forcible and expres- 
sive than any single word, does the Lord Jesus repeatedly 
assert, that the fire of hell shall never be quenched. 

How solemn, in both these views, is the prospect of 
eternity. Eternal life, or eternal death ; eternal happiness, 
or eternal woe ; eternal rapture, or eternal torment ; eternal 
honor, or eternal shame ; eternal holiness, or an eternal load 
of sin ; eternal nearness to God, or eternal banishment from 
him ; eternal communion with holy angels and happy saints, 
or eternal weeping, wailing, and despair, with Satan and 
accursed spirits. In these awfully opposite views, eternity 
is before you ; and can you trifle with its interests ? Oh, 
if disposed to slight its great concerns, think what will be 
your views of such folly, when concerning all for which you 
neglect eternal life, you shall have to say. It is ten thousand 
years since I possessed those poor trifles, for which I ruined 
my soul. Or, if you are a Christian, when almost drooping 
under worldly trials, think how insignificant they will ap- 
pear, when of the last of them you shall exclaim, It is ten 
thousand years ago. 

Christian, what encouragement have you for steadfast 
perseverance, when you contemplate the mansions of peace 



4 ETERNAL LIFE OR ETERNAL DEATH AWAITS YOU. 

and the country of rest. " There remaineth a rest to the 
people of God." Heb. 4 : 9. "When Christ, who is our 
hfe, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in 
glory." Col. 3 ; 4. *' There is laid up for me a crown of 
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall 
give me at that day : and not to me only, but unto all 
them also that love his appearing." 2 Tim. 4:8. With 
such hopes, what a trifle is this world to me ; its sorrows or 
its joys, its losses or its gains, trifles alike. Therefore, my 
soul, be steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the 
work of the Lord ; for thy labor shall not be in vain in the 
Lord. 

For eternal happiness, nothing but an interest in the 
Lord Jesus can prepare you. You are a sinner, you cannot 
deny it; "all have sinned." Rom. 3 : 23. As a sinner, 
you are by nature a child of wrath. Eph. 2:3. A con- 
demned creature ; for " cursed is every one that continu- 
eth not in all things which are written in the book of the 
law to do them." Gal. 3 : 10. The Lord Jesus declares, 
"Ye must be born again." John 3 : 7. "Except ye re- 
pent, ye shall all likewise perish." Luke 13 : 5. The 
pardon and salvation you need, the Saviour is able and 
willing to give, for " Christ died for our sins." 1 Cor. 
15:3. By many precious invitations in his holy word, he 
bids you come to him and be happy. He only can save 
you. If you slight him, all is lost ; if you welcome him, 
all will be well. Flee, then, to him, and be blessed ; to 
him commit your soul, devote your heart, and yield your 
all. And 0, forget not to consider ivhat you will be, and 
lohere you will be, when of earthly pleasures and pains, 
possessions and privileges, comforts and friendships, and 
even of life, death, and judgment, you have to say. They 
all are passed thousands of centuries ago. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 433. 

CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL? 

BY REV. ADOLPHUS MONOD, 

PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY, MONTAUBAN, (LATE PASTOR AT LYONS,) FRANCE. 



"/^ is appointed unto men once to die^^^ says the Apos- 
tle, ^^ and after this the judgments Whoever you are, 
you must die. And you know not when you will die. 
Perhaps in a few years ; perhaps in a few days ; per- 
haps to-morrow ; perhaps to-day. And after death is the 
''udgment. When you die you will appear before the 
bar of the Sovereign Judge, there to receive the sen- 
tence which will be eternal. My question is " Can you 
die Tranquil ?" If you should die to-day, this moment, 
and appear as you are before God, are you sure that 
you would be acquitted, and not condemned ] 

Alas ! there are men who, under the delusion of the 
great adversary, flatter themselves that no one will 
he absolutely condemned in the day of judgment. But I 
ask how do they know this ? and especially how do they 
know it with such certainty, that they could die tranquil 1 

Some argue that God is too good to condemn any one 
to eternal misery. But they forget that the goodness of 
God is not alone to be considered, but his justice also; 
since goodness, apart from justice, a goodness which 
would leave crime unpunished, would be a weakness un- 
worthy of a man charged to judge his fellow-men, and 
how much more unworthy of the "Judge of all the 
earth." Gen. 18 : 25. They forget that, in order to 
know what a perfectly good, and at the same time a per- 
fectly just God will appoint for sinful man, it is folly to 
refer to the opinion of man himself, who can neither be 
a disinterested judge in his own cause, nor an intelligent 
judge in that of God. The appeal must be made to a 
higher and more impartial authority ; and where shall 

VOL. XI. 11 



2 CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

we find such authority, if not in the inspired volume, 
which speaks to us in the language of God himself. 
Well, then, this holy book, far fronn attributing to God 
a goodness which prevents his condemning any of his 
creatures, declares to us, on the contrary, that " his 
goodness is over all his works," and on the same inspired 
page, that " all the wicked he will destroy." Psa. 145 ; 
9, 20 ; 92 : 7. 

Others persuade themselves that man can prepare him- 
self for judgment after death ; and perhaps with greater 
advantages than here below, since probably his mind 
will have more light and fewer temptations when he 
shall be freed from flesh and have escaped this world. 
But who has come back from the abodes of the dead to 
tell us what passes there % Who knows the effects of 
the great and mysterious change which death makes in 
our condition, so that he can assure you there will be 
space for repentance after death 1 And what can be 
known respecting the dead, but what is taught us in the 
word of God 1 Now this word never tells you of the 
conversion of the dead, nor of prayers offered for the 
dead, nor of any such thing. It every where points to 
the present life as the time of our probation, and death 
as its end ; it describes death as taking away man in his 
iniquity, (Ezek. 33 : 6, &c.) and gives us to understand 
that a man who " dies in his sins " can never go where 
Jesus Christ has gone, (John, 8 : 21,) — to eternal happi- 
ness. It connects closely judgment with death, without 
recognising any interval between them. '^ It is appoint- 
ed unto men once to die, and after this the judgment." 
It declares in a passage referring directly to the ques- 
tion before us, that " according to the deeds done in the 
body," (2 Cor. 5 : 10,) that is, in the present life, we 
shall be tried at the judgment-seat of Christ. 

But some go still further, and fancy that, in whatever 
state men appear before the bar of God, and whatever 



CAN YOU DIE TEAIStimL 1 3 

sentence they there receive, it will not be for any a 
sentence to eternal misery : daring thus to regulate the 
judgment according to their own theories. But what is 
this % A conjecture to amuse the imagination, and lull 
to sleep the conscience ; nothing more. The Bible 
every where declares or takes for granted, that there 
will be a real judgment, where some will be placed on 
the right hand, and others on the left ; and that " these 
shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the 
righteous into life eternal." Matt. 25 : 46. The Bible 
represents Abraham saying to the rich man, " Between 
us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that they who 
would pass from hence to you cannot, neither can they 
pass to us that would come from thence." Luke, 
16 : 26. It paints the condition of Judas, dying in his 
impenitence, as so desperate, that ''it had been better 
for him if he had not been born." Matt. 26 : 24. 

Away then with this vain conjecture. All reasonings 
to persuade one's self that no man will be for ever con- 
demned are unsubstantial, because they are not founded 
upon reason, which knows nothing of these things, nor 
upon revelation, which decides against this hope. They 
are but idle theories, which may amuse the leisure of a 
philosopher in his study, but cannot give tranquillity on 
a death-bed ; for, to say the least, they afford no cer- 
tainty to him who seeks refuge in them. Who of you, 
in that terrible moment, v»^hen struggling in the agonies 
of death, could say with unshaken assurance, " I know 
that no one will be condemned at the bar of God V No, 
no : these theories of an idle brain can never assure you 
against the terrors of the judgment. Leave, then, these 
delusive reasonings, and take things as they are, and as 
we find them in the word of God. Admit that there will 
be a real judgment, where some will be acquitted and 
some condemned, and that thus all men cannot die 
tranquil, but those only who have a well-founded a§su- 



4- CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

ranee that they will not be condemned — and I ask you 
if you yourself are of this number 1 The question is 
momentous. Examine it, I say not coolly, for that is 
impossible, but with calmness. Let us discuss this fear- 
ful subject as simply, I had almost said as familiarly, as 
if I was speaking to each reader in his closet. 

If all should honestly answer my question, I fear that 
vague hopes, an unreflecting confidence, at best loose 
reasonings would be the only support on which the 
hopes of many would be found to rest. Yet, if we should 
judge by the tranquillity they assume, and the security 
in which they live, they persuade themselves, doubtless, 
that they can die tranquil ; and if you ask them why^ the 
answer they will make, and which we hear in fact every 
day, is nearly as follows. One will say : " I am an 
honest nrian ; I wrong nobody ; do I not perform ray 
duties as a father, husband, citizen % and what crime 
have I committed to deserve eternal condemnation!" 
Another: *' I am not a despiser of religion; I attend 
church every Sunday, and I commune several times in 
the year." A third : " Is not God merciful to those 
who make themselves worthy of his grace ; and what is 
there blame-worthy in my life V These various answers 
are really but one : they all agree in this capital point, 
that those who speak thus think their conduct is such 

THAT THEY NEED NOT FEAR THE JUDGMENT OF A JUST 

AND HOLY God. Let me pause at this common thought, 
and addressing myself to all who rely on their own 
conduct as the ground on which they can die tranquil, 
let me ask them if this foundation is solid. 

In order that an accused person should appear with 
confidence before a human tribunal, what is necessary 1 
Plainly, that he shall have compared his conduct with the 
law by which he is to be judged, and have found the 
former conformed to the latter. That you may have a 



CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 5 

similar assurance when going to the tribunal of God, 
you also must have compared your conduct, on which 
you depend, with the law according to which judgment 
is to be pronounced, and have found the former con- 
formed to the latter. Have you made this comparison, 
and found this conformity 1 Let us see if you are not 
mistaken. 

The law by which you will be judged at the bar of 
God is the law of God. This law is made known to you, 
first by conscience, where God wrote it originally; but 
this first light becoming more and more obscure by sin, 
God gave us another, the Bible. In the Bible, then, you 
can learn what is the law. You there find it sometimes 
spread out into distinct precepts, as in the ten com- 
mandments, and sometimes summed up in a few pithy 
maxims : '^ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, 
and with all thy strength, and thy neighbor as thy- 
self." Matt. 22 : 37-39. And again :. " Whether ye 
eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory 
of God." 1 Cor. 10:31. 

Have you practised this law i When you have heard 
the commandments of God, could you rise and say what 
the young man in the Gospel believed he could say : 
" All these things have I kept from my youth up V 
Matt. 19:20. 

If you answer in the affirmative, attend to a simple 
account of a conversation I held one day with a man 
who had this opinion of himself. I had put to him the 
question, " Can you die tranquil V He replied without 
hesitation that he could j and on pressing him to ex- 
plain the ground of his tranquillity, he told me, like 
you, that eternal life is promised to those who obey the 
commandments of God, which he had always done. I 
then took, almost at random, one of the commandments 
of the decalogue ; it was the fifth, " Honor thy father 

VOL. XI 11* 



6 CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL % 

and thy mother ;" and asked him such questions as 
these : " Have you never done any thing which your 
parents forbade 1 or spoken unnecessarily of their 
faults 1 or failed in the respect and affection you owed 
them 1 or done to them what you would not wish your 
children should do to you V He was constrained to 
acknowledge that he had sinned in many ways against 
this commandment. I then asked him if, supposing he 
had sinned against this commandment only, and had 
observed all the others in an irreproachable manner, he 
could be regarded as an observer of the law 1 He was 
obliged to answer No, according to the simple and 
searching language of James, " Whosoever shall keep 
the whole law, and offend in one point, is guilty of all. 
For he that said, thou shalt not commit adultery, said 
also, thou shalt not kill. If then thou do not commit 
adultery, but if thou kill, thou art a transgressor of the 
law." James, 2 : 10, 11. But I had no difficulty to make 
him see that this was not the only commandment against 
which he had sinned. I quoted a second, concerning 
which I put several questions, leaving him always to 
judge himself of his own conduct ; after this, a third j 
then another j and always with the same result. He 
went on from surprise to surprise, and from humiliation 
to humiliation. 

I then asked him to name in his turn one command- 
ment which he had not transgressed. He chose the 
second : '' Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven 
images, nor bow down before them." At first he be- 
lieved himself entirely innocent : surely he had never 
worshipped idols. But I represented to him that there 
was an idolatry, of which a person was guilty every 
time that he gave to the creature the homage and affec- 
tions due only to the Creator ; so that the covetous 
man is an idolater, because he makes a god of his gold ; 
and the intemperate man is an idolater because he 



CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 7 

makes one of his bellj^, according to the words of St. 
Paul, Eph. 5 : 5 J Col. 3 : 5. Have you never preferred to 
God and his will, either riches, or the pleasures of 
sense, or worldly honors] These questions soon led 
him to acknowledge that even the commandment which 
he believed himself farthest from having violated, he 
had violated many, many times. At last I remarked to 
him that, " if his heart condemned him," God con- 
demned him more severely still ; God, who " is greater 
than our heart, and knoweth all things;" (1 John, 3 : 20 ;) 
God, who discovers in us all the evil which escapes our 
©wn notice, and who remembers all which we forget ; 
and I added that, even if he did not feel guilty, he 
would not for this reason be justified, because he who 
judges us is the Lord; (1 Cor. 4:4;) and the Lord 
has declared expressly in his Word, that " all have sin- 
ned and come short of the glory of God ; that there is 
none righteous, no, not one ; that there is none that 
doeth good, no, not one." Romans, 3 : 10, 12, 23. The 
man of whom I speak was open-hearted; he acknow- 
ledged candidly, and with feeling, that he had been un- 
der a complete illusion ; that his conduct, far from 
having been conformed to the commands of God, had 
been wholly contrary to them; and that, having so evi- 
dently deserved condemnation, he could not die tranquil. 
With some small differences, the substance of this 
conversation would be the same with what I would 
hold, if I could, with every reader ; and if you have 
equal candor with him, you would be led inevitably to 
the same result. If then you have no other foundation 
for your tranquillity than the pretended conformity of 
your conduct to the law of God, you are mistaken ; this 
conformity does not exist ; this foundation is insecure — 
you cannot die tranquil. 

I might stop here, and conclude that you must give 



8 CAN YOU DIE tranquil! 

up the hope you have cherished, and seek another more 
solid hope ; since, if your conduct is not in accordance 
with the law of the supreme tribunal, it does not ap- 
pear possible for you to escape condemnation. But 
there is one more delusion by which men flatter them- 
selves that they shall escape. They think the law 
WILL BE MITIGATED, and the Judge be satisfied with an 
imperfect obedience. " God," they say, " will not ex- 
act of his feeble creature the perfect fulfilment of 
his law." 

But whence does this hope proceed 1 Not from 
sound reason ; but from a corrupt heart, in love with 
sin. What says the word of God 1 " As many as are of 
the works of the law, are under the curse ; for it is 
written : Cursed is every one that continueth not in all 
things that are written in the book of the law to do 
them ;" and again : " Whosoever shall keep the whole 
■aw, and yet ofTend in one point, he is guilty of all ;" 
and again : " I testify to every man that is circum- 
cised," (wishing to be justified by his works,) " that he 
is a debtor to do the whole law." Gal. 3 : 10 ; James, 
2:10; Gal. 5:3. What shall I say more f It is a 
fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God." 
" Our God is a consuming fire." " He is of purer eyes 
than to behold iniquity." Who " will by no means 
clear the guilty ;"— Heb. 10 : 31 ; 12 : 29 ; Hab. 1:13; 
Exod. 3i : 7 ; and a thousand similar passages. Think 
you that this is the language of a God disposed to bend 
his law, to accommodate it to the weakness of sinful 
man 1 

Are there still those who seek a last subterfuge 
in a perversion of the mercy of Christ 1 Will you say, 
" It is true that the law at first was strictly applied ; but 
God consents to be?id it in consideration of the sacrifice of 
this Son. He no longer exacts from us a perfect obedi- 
ence, but will be satisfied, if to this redemption we add 



CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL '? 9 

a certain measure of obedience 1" Here, here I cannot 
restrain my feelings ! where are we ! if in a Christian 
land there may be substituted for the blessed and holy 
doctrine of the expiation of sin, by the blood of Christ, 
the idea contained in the language just recited — an 
idea from which the doctrine of salvation by Jesus 
Christ is as far removed as heaven is from hell — an idea 
which only borrows some words from the Bible, the 
better to cover the attack upon its most fundamental 
truths ; which, not content to charge God with conniv- 
ing at sin, makes Jesus Christ also an accomplice in this 
prevarication ; which makes the Son come down to 
earth only to proclauTi before indignant angels, that the 
justice of the Father is not inflexible, and which makes 
the blood of the Son of God flow to efface — what 1 the sins 
of the creature 1 no ; but the holiness of the Creator. 

Ah ! rather must it be said that, if you have enter- 
tained a hope that the law will bend, you will have to 
abandon it before the cross of Jesus Christy for God 
has nowhere proclaimed his fixed design not to bend his 
law in so public and striking a manner as upon this 
cross. What means the spectacle which God there 
gives to men and to angels, unless that God, placed in 
this alternative, either to bend his law, or strike his only 
and well-beloved Son, struck his only and well-beloved 
Son! So impossible is it for him to abate aught of the 
holy requisitions of his law! Thus this mitigated 
law, which you have invented to shield you from the 
terrors of judgment, being condemned by reason and 
rejected by the Bible, ends with being crushed by the 
cross of Jesus Christ. 

Beware, my deceived friend : this law which you 
have kept is not the law of God, it is not the law by 
which you will be judged in the last day. It is a law 
which your corrupt heart and guilty conscience have 
conceived ; a law which you have dictated to your 



10 CAN YOU DIE tranquil] 

Judge J a law which dishonors him ; a law which he re- 
jects ; a law which he hurls back with indignation upon 
its authors, as the greatest of all their offences against 
his holj' majesty. Away, then, away with this false doc- 
trine of a mitigated law ! Away with this hope, which 
procures for man only the vengeance of God ! The law of 
God will not be mitigated. The law of God is fixed, un- 
changeable, absolute, eternal. You may break it, but it 
will never bend. If, then, you have no other foundation 
for your tranquillity than the hope of being judged ac- 
cording to a mitigated law, you deceive yourself: this 
mitigated law is a phantom ; this foundation is delusive — 
you cannot die tranquil. 

But lest this delusion should still linger in your mind, 
suppose this mitigated law were proved^ and that you are 
on the bed of death, fortifying yourself against the 
judgment by questions like these : " Have I virtue 
enough to deserve the indulgence of the law ] Have I 
only that degree of sin which it tolerates ] Or have I 
passed the fatal limit 1 Have I done good works enough 1 
or are more necessary ] How do I know ] Oh ! who 
will tell me exactly what God requires, and what I am 
myself!" Unhappy man! Obliged in order to tranquil- 
lize yourself to measure things for which you have no 
measure, how could you ever say, '' I am secure ; I die 
in peace V AVhat peace could you find in solving a 
question of more or less sin, or good deeds, but a peace 
which comes and goes alternately in your wretched 
heart, a peace which is no peace ! No, no ; it is not a 
calculation of probabilities that can give peace on a 
death-bed! Confess, then, that, were it possible for the 
law of God to be mitigated, this would avail you no- 
thing j and that if you have no foundation for your tran- 
quillity but this hope, you deceive yourself: this foun- 
dation is insecure, you cannot die tranquil. 

Is there any other foundation for your tranquillity, O 



CAN YOr DIE TRANQUIL I 1 1 

ye who rely on your conduct ] I know none ; nay, 
more, you do not yourselves know, you cannot know any 
other. It is absolutely necessary that your conduct on 
which you rely, and the law according to which you are 
to be judged, should be in accordance : your acquit- 
tal depends upon it. This cannot take place except in 
one or other of these two ways: either that your con- 
duct be conformed to the law, or that the law be con- 
formed to your conduct. This is the only alternative. 
You cannot go out of this fatal circle. But I asked you, 
first, if your conduct had been conformed to the law, 
and you were constrained to reply: "No, it has not 
been conformed to it." We then inquired if the law 
could be accommodated to your conduct ; and reason, 
the Bible, the cross of Christ answered, " No, it can- 
not be accommodated." Lastly, to complete the evi- 
dence we examined if, by rejecting reason, shutting the 
Bible, taking away the cross, and attributing to God a 
mitigated law, you can be sure that you have observed 
even this law ; and reason obliged you to say ; '' No, we 
cannot be sure." What hope then remains to you 1 
How will you ever end this endless debate between 
j'-our conduct, which cannot satisfy the law, and the 
law which cannot be bent to your conduct ] How, un- 
less by your condemnation 1 This condemnation alone 
can restore order, settle the difficulty between your 
conduct and the law, do justice to you and to God. 
This condemnation is inevitable ; and if you should ap- 
pear such as you are before the bar of God, if you 
should die to day — but stop. It is enough to prove ti 
you, and I believe I have done it v.'ith almost mathe- 
matical evidence, that, to say the least, you can have 
no certainty of not being condemned — and so no tran- 
quillity in dying. 

But my friend, my dear friend, if you cannot die tran- 
quil, by what charm, by w^hal secret are you enabled to 



\'2 CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

live tranquil 1 What ! you may die at any moment j 
you know not what may be your eternal doom ; you 
have reason to believe that you will be condemned, 
and still you take up with a vague hope, or chance, 
that you will escape ; and your countenance is tranquil ! 
and you can sleep tranquilly ! and you attend tranquilly 
to your business ! nay more, you enjoy life ! and it 
may be, you frequent the house of feasting! and go, 
laughing, singing, dancing, towards the bar of the sove- 
reign Judge, with no more concern than if your eternal 
destiny was to be decided by lot, and you were indulging 
a mere heedless curiosity to learn whether this or that 
preacher is right, whether the Bible is the inspired word 
of God or a human invention, whether heaven and hell 
are realities or fictions, and whether your destiny is to 
be everlasting happiness or everlasting misery! Ah! 
if there is any thing in the world more deplorable than 
the terrors of the judgment appointed for you, it is the 
false security in which you await it. 

But no, 1 do you injustice. These reflections, I am 
convinced, have produced a salutary anxiety in your 
mind. This subject has a force, an evidence to move 
even stones. The veil falls off, your security is dissi- 
pated, a new day dawns upon you, death alarms you, 
the judgment affrights you, you feel at last that you 
cannot remain in your present state a day longer — no, 
nor an hour. 

But how to escape ! Is there any way to secure 
beforehand a favorable sentence for the last day 1 Can 
any man in the world appear at the bar of God with 
the assurance that he will not be condemned! Yes, 
thanks be to God, there are many who, if called to die 
to-day, w^ould yield their spirits to him, in the joyful 
assurance that they should not be condemned. This 
answer has been made by multitudes whose confidence 



CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 13 

has been put to the test, and has not deceived them on 
a death-bed. Yes, we can die tranquil. 

You ask, perhaps, " And why you more than we 1 
What is \\\e foundation of your hope ?" I answer, let it 
be examined, and you shall judge whether it rests, like 
your's, on the sand, or whether it is based on the Rock 
of ages. 

You will ask us, first, whether we find in our conduct 
that conformity to the law of God which we have shown 
not to be in yours. No : we have transgressed the law 
like you, — more than you, perhaps, — and each of us re- 
gards himself as "the chief of sinners." 1 Tim. 1 : 15. 

Do we then expect for ourselves those mitigations in 
the law which we have shown that you cannot expect 
for yourselves % " No : if we should indulge such a 
hope, we should no longer be tranquil ; but we dread 
such a hope, and we believe that the law of God cannot 
be mitigated for any one." 

" But then," you will say, " what is it that gives you 
assurance, and what is the difference between your con- 
dition and our's !" Here is the difference: we do 7iot 
rely upon our conduct^ or any thing there is in us ; our 
hope rests on quite another foundation. This foundation 
we do not seek in ourselves, but in another ; as it is 
written, " There is one mediator between God and man, 
the man Christ Jesus." 1 Timothy, 2 : 5. We place our 
HOPE UPON Jesus Christ*: on account of what he has 
done we can die tranquil. Let us explain. 

We have learned from the Bible, which is the inspired 
Word of God, and the testimony of which is as much 
above human reasonings as the Divine authority is above 
human authority, that God, seeing all men were under 
condemnation by their works, and that none of them, 
"no not one," could appear before him without being 
inevitably condemned by his holy law, devised, in 
order to justify man before his bar, a plan, in which we 
VOL, XI. r2 



l^ CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

know not which most to admire, the unspeakable mercy, 
or the profound wisdom there displayed. He established 
a Mediator between himself and man. " He sent his 
Son, made of a woman, made under the law." Galatians, 
4 : 4. This Son of God, who by an incomprehensible 
mystery is also the Son of man, was appointed by God 
to reconcile to himself guilty and condemned man : 
uniting in himself the divine and human nature, havinor 
at once the perfections of the former and the sinless 
infirmities of the latter ; eternal like God, born and 
dying like man; powerful like God, subject to fatigue 
and suffering like man ; holy like God, tempted like 
man, in short, " Emmanuel," that is, " God with us," 
he placed himself between God and us, to be condemned 
in our stead, that thus we mis^ht be nardoned. He be^an 
by living like man in the midst of men, but without 
sin ; keeping the law, as it w^ould be necessary that we 
should have kept it to deserve by our works eternal life. 
Then he placed himself between God and us, upon the 
cross. Then he took our sins upon him. On him the 
law inflicted the blow which our sins had rendered 
inevitable ; and at the same time, that our conduct is 
condemned, the law is satisfied; and yet, marvellous! 
w^e are acquitted. For the Mediator did not remain in 
the tomb: he left the third day, and God declared thus, 
that he acknowledged him for his Son, and that he ac- 
cepted his sacrifice in expiation of our sins. Then he 
ascended into heaven, and sat down at the right hand 
of God, where he makes intercession for those whom he 
has redeemed by his death. Such is the work accom- 
plished by Jesus Christ, as Mediator between God and 
men, as it is written : " God was in Christ, reconciling 
the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses 
unto them. For he hath made him to be sin for us, who 
knew no sin, that we might be made the righteous- 
ness of God, in him." e Cor. 5:21. 



CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 15 

But this mediation has not absolved all men. Who, 
then, are absolved ] Those, the Bible tells us, who 
partake of it hy faith ^ those who believe in Jesus Christ ; 
(Acts, 16 : 31 ;) that is, those who, feeling that they are 
lost and utterly without hope in themselves, rest their 
salvation on Jesus Christ alone, and place him between 
God and themselves as their only hope. By this faith 
there is formed between Jesus and the believer a close 
and indissoluble union. He who believes is associated 
and united with Jesus: he becomes a branch of the 
vine of which Jesus is the root ; (John, 15 : 5;) a mem- 
ber of the body of which he is the head, bone of his 
bones, flesh of his flesh ; (Ephesians, 5 : 30 ;) one with 
him, as he is one with the Father; (John, 17: 21, 22;) 
so that the expression, " to believe in Christ," and these 
expressions, ''to be in Jesus Christ," "to dwell in 
Jesus Christ," '' to have Jesus Christ dvv^elling- in you," 
amount to the same thing. Now as nothing afiects the 
head which the whole body does not feel ; and as where 
the head is, there also must the members be ; so the 
believer allied to Jesus Christ by faith, is made par- 
taker erf his fullness. If he rises from the dead, we 
rise from the dead ; if he ascends into heaven, we 
ascend thither also ; if he receives eternal life, we 
receive it also with him. Thus the mysterious ex- 
change is made by which the burden of our sins is 
borne by Jesus Christ, and his righteousness is account- 
ed to us. By faith his mediation is appropriated by us, 
and he is not only the Savior, but our Savior, as it is 
written: "He that believeth in him shall not be condem- 
ned;" "he that believeth on the Son hath everlastinor 

o 

life;" "he that believeth, shall not come into condem- 
nation, but is passed from death unto life ;" (John, 8 : 
18, 36;) and again, "There is, therefore, now no con- 
demnation to them who are in Christ Jesus." Rom. 8:1. 



16 CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

But you will ask how we can die tranquil, who 
have noi kept the law ? True, we have not kept the 
law, and it would be enough to throw us into despair; 
if it was our own righteousness which we had to oppose 
to the penalty of the law. But we have a Mediator. It 
is his righteousness we oppose to the penalty of the 
law ; he " of God is made unto us righteousness ;" 
(1 Cor. 1 : 30 ;) " that we might be made the righteous- 
ness of God in Him." 2 Cor. 5:21. It is he who 
"hath borne our sins in his own body on the tree ;" it 
is he who was " wounded for our transgressions, and 
bruised for our iniquities." Isaiah, 53 : 5. It is written, 
that " the blood of Jesus Christ cleanselh from all sin ;" 
(1 John, 1 : 7 ;) and that ''though our sins be as scarlet, 
they shall be white as snow ; and though they be red like 
crimson, they shall be as wool ;" (Isaiah,! : 18 ;) that "the 
Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." Isaiah, 53 : 5. 

You will ask again, how we can die tranquil — shall I 
say ] or, live tranquil — we^ feeble^ helpless^ doubting^ wa- 
vering followers of Christ '(. True, we are feeble, help- 
less, unbelieving, more even than you think ; and it would 
be enough to keep us in continual anguish if we had no 
help but in ourselves. But we have a Jtlediator. Can he, 
and will he, keep us in the faith 1 That is the question. 
If you can prove to us that Jesus Christ is feeble, imper- 
fect, unbelieving, like ourselves, or that after having made 
a redemption he abandons us to ourselves, all our hope is 
gone. But that is what you can never prove. For it is 
written, that after rising from the dead, Jesus " ascended 
into heaven ; that he sat down at the right hand of God ;" 
(Mark, 16 : 19 ;) that there " he maketh intercession for 
us ;" (Rom. 8 : 34 :) that '' if when we were enemies we 
were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much 
more being reconciled we shall be saved by his life ;" 
(Rom. 5 : 10 ;) that " God is faithful, who will not suffer 
us to be tempted above what we are able to bear;" (1 Cor. 



CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 17 

10: 13 ;) and that " he who hath begun a good work in 
us, will acconnplish it unto the day of Christ." Phil. 
I : 6. After this, " there is no condemnation to thenn 
who are in Christ Jesus," and we can die — yea, and live 
the life of faith, far naore tranquil than if it depended on 
our own unaided strength to persevere unto the end. 

What then do you say to the ground of our tran- 
'^uillity 1 Do you find it giving w^ay at the first shock, 
like that on which you rest 1 Do you not find it, on the 
contrary, firm and unshaken 1 And have we not reason 
to say, comparing it with yours, " Their rock is not 
as our Kock, our enemies themselves being judges V 
Deut. 32 : 31. Ah ! if you tell us that, resting as we do 
on so solid a foundation, we do not appear as we ought to 
appear ;' i[ you tell us that, with so well-established a 
hope, it is strange we do not enjoy more constant and 
settled peace, and that we do not always carry a con- 
tented mind under a smiling face j here w^e have nothing 
to answer : we humble ourselves in the dust, and we 
confess that you are right and we are wrong. Yes, our 
confidence is far from being as constant and settled as it 
ought to be. We fall short in practice of the sublime 
religion which we have preached to you, and which is 
truth itself. Too often do anxiety, sadness and doubt 
agitate these hearts where ought to " reign peace j" 
(Col. 3:15;) and we have reason to cry to God in our 
distress, " Restore unto me the joys of thy salvation." 
Psalm 51 : 12. We make no difficulty in avowing it to 
you, provided you understand that this avowal, hum- 
bling as it is to ourselves, enhances the glory of cur 
doctrine. For why are we thus troubled ] It is because 
we lack faith in the Mediator. It is because, while saying, 
" Lord, I believe," we are constrained to add, " help 
thou our unbelief." Mark, 9 : 24^ 

Besides, it is not when our faith is firm, that we are 

VOL. XI. 12* 



18 CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

exposed to these sad thoug'/its ; it is, on the contrary, 
when it is weak and fluctuating. By faith comes peace ; 
little faith, little peace ; much faith, much peace. The 
more you rely on your own conduct, the more you must 
be troubled ; and the more we rely upon Jesus, the 
more tranquil we can be ; because you, the more you 
examine your conduct, the more defective you find it ; 
and we, the more we contemplate Jesus, the more per- 
fect, holy, powerful, faithful, we find him, according to 
that excellent expression, " The work of the Rock is 
perfect." Deut. 32 : 4. The Rock ! Ah ! if you knew 
how precious this name is to us! With Jesus, I descend 
into the depths of hell, and see nothing in the formida- 
ble accuser of the children of God but a conquered 
enemy unable to hurt me ! With Jesus, I traverse the 
earth from one end to the other, and I march trium- 
phant " over the lion and the adder," (Psalm 91: 13,) and 
over all the forces of the enemy ! With Jesus, 1 ascend 
the highest heaven, and in my Judge I recognize my 
Savior ! Jesus, Jesus, is the only name that we oppose 
to all anxieties and all fears ! To the agonies of death, 
Jesus; to the terrors of judgment, Jesus ; to the suffer- 
ings of the flesh, Jesus; to weaknesses of faith, Jesus; 
to the accusations of conscience, Jesus ; to the temp- 
tations of the devil, Jesus; and to all your questions, 
Jesus, Jesus ! He is our buckler, our hope, our life, our 
fortress, our peace, our refuge ; and not only ours, but 
that of all those who sincerely believe in his name, from 
the besfinninof of the church, and for ever and ever! 
For this is not a new doctrine ; the apostles of Jesus 
Christ taught us this glorious and firm hope, which we 
have so feebly explained to you ; and without 'quoting 
from Peter, John, or other apostles, (1 John, 4 : 17, 18 ; 
2 Peter, 1:11, &c.) what more is my discourse than an 
illustration of what St. Paul says in few words : '' Who 
shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect 1 It is 



CAN YOU DIE TRAIsqUlL ] 19 

God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth 1 It is 
Christ that died, yea, rather is risen again ; who is even 
at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession 
for us." Romans, 8 : 33, 34>. And how can I better 
conclude, than by the triumphant song which closes so 
admirably this admirable chapter : " Who shall separate 
us from the love of Christ 1 Shall tribulation, or distress, 
or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or 
sword 1 Nay, in all these things we are more than con- 
querors, through him that loved us. For I am persuaded 
that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principali- 
ties, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to 
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, 
shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which 
is in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

And now that we have explained and vindicated the 
foundation of our hope, are there any who would still 
bring against the glorious tranquillity of those who rest 
upon Jesus, the accusation of presumption and folly 1 
Will you not understand, though we have repeated it 
so often, that we rest this hope, not upon our works, 
which we believe evil, and worthy of everlasting fire ; 
but upon grace alone, the free grace of God ] Will you 
not understand that in this wonderful dispensation of 
Divine mercy, salvation comes wholly from God, and 
not from man ; that it is given, and not bought ; and that 
when we speak of it before you, it is to give glory to 
God, and to lead you to seek the same peace. It is for 
you as well as for us. 

How ! shall not the poor prodigal, whose heart is over- 
flowing with the new happiness which he has found in 
his father's house, run towards other prodigal children, 
his old companions in misery, and cry to them — " if 
you knew what my father has done for me ! Instead of 
the fortune which I squandered, he gives me a second 



20 CAN YOU DIE TRANQUIL 1 

better than the first ; in place of the rags with which 1 
was covered, rich clothes ; instead of the husks which 
I shared with the swine, the food of his own table ; in- 
stead of that corrupt society, his own society, his sweet 
conversation. He surrounds me, he overwhelms me 
with his love. Will you not also return to him 1" Could 
iie not speak thus without being- told : " Proud man, 
what right hast thou to boast to us the goodness of thy 
father 1" And we, delivered from this fear of death 
which held us in bondage all our lifetime, (Heb. 2 : 15,) 
may we not come to you, who are still in this bondage, 
to tell you of our happiness, and to urge you to believe 
like us, in order that like us j^ou may be happy. 

But what do I say 1 Do you not rather sigh after that 
holy and happy hope, and say in your heart, " I also 
would believe in Christ ]" Well, then, believe, believe 
now. One step more and you are in the door of faith. 
Wait not till the seductions of sin, the temptations of 
infidelity, the railleries of an ungodly world have drawn 
away your heart. Put it not ofT till to-morrow. To- 
morrow, perhaps, you may not be willing ; to-morrow, 
perhaps, you may not be able ; to-morrow, perhaps, you 
will be dead. Not to-morrow, but to-day. '' Now is the 
accepted time ; now is the day of salvation." 2 Cor. 6 : 2. 
Leave, then, all your doubts, cast yourself at the feet of 
Jesus, give him your heart ; and instead of living " with- 
out hope, and without God in the world," (Eph. 2: 12,) 
you shall go forth singing, with pious Simeon, the song of 
those who can die tranquil : " Lord, nowlettest thou thy 
servant depart in peace, according to thy word ; for 
mine eyes have seen thy salvation !" Luke, 2 : 29, 30. 



THE END. 



iVo. 426, 

THE 



YORKSHIRE WEAVER; 



OR, 



THE DUTY AND ADVANTAGE OF FAMILY PRAYER. 



BY REV. RICHARD KNILL. 

It was my happiness to spend a week in the beautiful 
vale of Todmorton, Yorkshire, Eng., preaching daily in the 
surrounding chapels. On one occasion, I spoke of the 
various methods which God is pleased to bless in bringing 
sinners to himself, and raising up missionaries ; and in par- 
ticular mentioned family prayer. This led the interesting 
individual whose short history I am about to relate, to call 
on me. He was a plain, sensible, kind-hearted man, and 
spoke the broad Yorkshire dialect. I do not know if he is 
yet alive ; but when I saw him, his hair was as black as a 
raven, his cheek bloomed with health, and his eye was like 
a rainbow — the tears and the sunbeams sparkled in it. 

After we had conversed for some time on various sub- 
jects, at my request he related the following particulars. 

*' I was born near the edge of yonder lofty hill. My 
father occupied a small farm, on which the family used to 
work during the summer months, and in the winter we all 
wove cloth, for our own use and for the market. There 
was no church near us, and we grew up in great spiritual 
darkness. The Sabbath was our holiday, which we gene- 
rally spent in playing at cricket and football. In this 
state I remained until I was about twenty years of age, 
when one winter evening I rambled down from the edge of 
the mountain, to call on a neighbor who lived a few fields 
below. He was a man that feared God, and was accus- 
tomed to have morning and evening prayer with his family. 
When the usual hour arrived for the household to assemble, 



2 THE VORKSHIRE WEAVER. 

"lie said to me, in our dialect, 'John, ha mun atop to family 
prayer f I consented. A chapter was read, and he and 
his wife and children fell upon their knees, while I, as it 
was no business of mine, sat still and looked on. But I 
assure you, sir, I felt very strangely — I never felt so before. 
As soon as it was over, I left them without saying a word, 
and walked to my father's house. But the scene I had 
witnessed could not be forgotten. I was struck to the 
heart. As I ascended the side of the hill, I thought, This 
must surely be the worship of God. This is what I have 
never done, but it is what I ought to do. 

*' I hardly knew what to do, and I went to bed as usual — 
without prayer. But it was the last night I ever did so. 
Almost the first thing that came into my thoughts when I 
awoke, was my neighbor's family prayer. At the proper 
hour I went to my loom, and commenced working, but I 
could not go on. I felt as if my heart would break ; and I 
was forced to cover my work with a handkerchief, lest the 
piece which I was weaving should be injured by my tears. 
I longed for night to return, that I might go down to my 
neighbor's house, and see the family prayer. I did so ; 
and as a kind Providence would have it, my neighbor again 
asked me to stop to the 'family prayer.' This w\as just 
what I wished. Nothing on earth would have pleased me 
so much. So the great book was brought, and the good 
man read, and they all fell upon their knees. I did not 
now kneel with them ; but 0, what I felt ! As soon as 
they rose, I immediately left the house without saying a 
word, and hastened home. As I was going up the hill, / 
felt as if I must pray that moment; but there was no shed 
into which I could enter and kneel down, and the snow was 
thick upon the ground ; so I walked on. But my conscience 
would not let me proceed. A voice seemed to say, ' Go to 
prayer ; seek the Lord ; cry for mercy ; begin at once !' So 
I pulled a large stone from the hedge, and placed it on the 
snow ; and there, on that stone, I first kneeled down and 
called upon God.'' 



TFIE YORKSHIRE WEAVER. 3 

Reader, look at him for a moment. There he is on his 
knees. " Behold, he prayeth !" Yes, with the snow for a 
carpet, and a stone for his cushion, and the heavens for a 
canopy, and the moon for a witness, and angels for his 
attendants — there, he first cried, " Lord have mercy on my 
soul I" Oh what a night was that for my friend ! It will 
be remembered with rapture after the moon has been 
turned into blood, and the stars have withdrawn their 
shining. 

From that day the weaver became a praying man ; and 
w^hen I first knew him he had been twenty years a deacon 
of a Christian church ; and was well known as one of the 
most active, arid zealous, and exemplary servants of Christ 
in all the neighborhood. 

I inquired as to his progress in a religious life. To 
which he replied, " My ignorance of divine things was so 
-great, that I knew not what to do. I had not been a 
drunkard, nor a swearer, nor had I kept company with 
loose young men ; but I had been living without God. All 
my plans, and habits, and thoughts, and desires, had been 
about this world, and never rose higher ; but now all things 
were become new. I was afraid to open my mind to and 
mortal about it, but I could tell my Saviour ; yea, I could 
tell him all. My father had a barn, that became my favorite 
retreat. That was my house of prayer, and it was indeed 
the gate of heaven to my soul. Often, often have I entered 
into that barn, and shut the door, and kneeled and prayed 
to the Father who seeth in secret, and the Father who 
seeth in secret hath richly rewarded me. My enjoyment 
was very great ; sometimes it was joy unspeakable and full 
of glory ; but it was not always so. No, there was some- 
times much darkness in my mind, and Satan took advan- 
tage of it, and greatly harassed me. 

" But the Bible is full of encouragement to a soul op- 
pressed with guilt ; and as my knowledge of that sacred 
book increased, so did my peace and joy ; and I have often 
thought, that God intended, by bringing me through these 



4 THE YORKSHIRE WEAVER. 

deep waters, to prepare me to speak a word to heavy-laden 
sinners. It often falls to my lot now, in my visits to the 
sick, and in conversing with candidates for admission into 
the church, to meet with people under 'soul-trouble ;' and 
I have always a word for them ; for I never meet with any 
so completely dark as I was." 

I had heard from his minister of his knowledge of the 
Scriptures, and of his gift in prayer ; and now, as I heard 
from his own lips his insight into the devices of Satan, and 
his intimate acquaintance with the human heart, I could 
not but admire the wisdom and goodness of God in raising 
up men in every station of life to direct the anxious, inquir- 
ing sinner to that Saviour who says, " Come unto me, all 
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I w^ill give you 
rest." 

Family pro,yer was a duty he often inculcated ; urging 
those who felt its importance, but feared to engage in it, to 
begin, relying on divine aid, for then obstacles vanished. 
This service also constituted the charm of his own domestic 
circle, for he had conscientiously regarded the apostolic in- 
junction to '•' marry only in the Lord." who can tell the 
delight and refreshment of those hours when a family bow 
at the altar of God : the mother reads, the children sing, 
the father prays, and all devoutly join in worship ! '' 'Tis 
like a little heaven below." 

We commended each other to God by prayer, and 
shook hands, and parted, in the joyful expectation of meet- 
ing again in heaven. 

READtiR, are you training up a family for the judgment 
Vf\i\i0^i family prayer? 

Do you regard the eternal welfare of the souls of do- 
mestics under your charge ? 

Are there those far from God around you; and can 
you not, by inviting them to join in family worship, or by 
other means, do something for their salvation ? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 427, 

A 



GIFT FOR THE AGED 



VALUE OF ''THE GLORIOUS GOSPEL. 



YET THERE IS ROOM.— Luke 14 : 22. 



My respected Aged Friend, 

Will you oblige me by giving this letter 
an attentive perusal. The subject of it is very 
important, one in which you are deeply con- 
cerned 5 it is most joyful in its nature, and 
able to make you truly happy in this world 
and that which is to come, if you rightly value 
and tmderstand it. It is " The Glorious Gos- 
pel j" able, by the blessing of the Spirit, to 
make the most ignorant " wise unto salva- 
tion^^' (2 Tim. 3 : 15,) the most depraved and 
guilty sinner fit for the holiness and happiness 
of heaven \ and, in a word, to save precious 
souls from the torments of hell and prepare 
them for an ''inheritance with the saints in 
light:' Col. 1 : 12. Has this Glorious Gospel, 

my dear aged friend, any charms for you? 

VOL. xr, 13 



Z A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

Have you any desire to be blessed by it? 
Have you ever prayed to be a partaker of its 
prospects and supports 7 If you cannot say 
tliat it has claimed your attention, or that you 
have felt any desire after it, your situation is 
a pitiable one j for your precious soul, with- 
out an interest in this Glorious Gospel, must 
be miserable for ever and ever. 

Your advancing years and the uncertainty 
of your life call loudly for solicitude on your 
behalf You know not the day of your death, 
"this night your soul may be required of 
you j" and then, ignorant of this Glorious 
Gospel, and unconcerned about an interest 
in it, hopeless and Christless will you be for 
ever. Oh ! reflect then for a moment on what 
I say, and lift up a desire, that, on a subject 
so important, you may feel an immediate 
concern. 

" Haste, aged sinner^ to the Lamb of God ; 

" Haste to be cleansed in his precious blood, 

" There yet is room for you — do not delay, 

" But seek for mercy, ' while 'tis called to-day.' 

" Oh ! seek at once, lest sudden death should come, 

" For then, if unconverted^ hell must be your doom." 

While I thus faithfully tell you, my aged 
friend, of your lost and ruined state, icithoiit 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 3 

a personal interest in this Glorious Gospel, 
I entreat you to remember, that all the bless- 
ings it contains are freely offered to you — that 
you are welcome to partake of them. Oh let 
me entreat you to begin at once to seek after 
them. Yes, 7iow, " while it is called to-day /' 
now^ while the Bible declares it to be " the 
accepted time and the day of salvation." Do 
listen to my entreaties \ do not live contented 
another hour without praying for Divine teach- 
ing, that your heart may be opened to receive 
the Glorious Gospel. Thereby you will have a 
hope in life, a hope in death, and enjoy after it 
a glorious immortality. " The ivages of si?i is 
death, but the gift of God is eternal life, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord.'' Rom. 6 : 23. Hesi- 
tate not to accept of such vast and suitable 
blessings*, cast not away the hope of such 
prospects \ refuse not such offers of mercy. 

I cannot indeed fully describe to you all the 
blessings which are offered for your accept- 
ance, the Gospel is so full of them. But what 
light and the power of seeing would be to one 
blind — what health and ease would be to one 
sick and suffering — what liberty would be to 
the captive — what deliverance would be to the 
shipwrecked sailor — and what life would be 



4 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

to one about to be put to death — all these, and 
much more than these, are the blessings con- 
tained in the Glorious Gospel. What all these 
would be to the poor perishing body, which, 
after receiving them, would not be always 
able to retain and enjoy them — such are these 
blessings to the precious soul. 

Yes, my aged friend, by nature you have 
need of all these changes to be wrought in 
you. The Bible describes you as a sinner, to 
be diseased " from the crown of the head to 
the sole of the foot." " The god of this world" 
is said to have blinded the minds of those who 
believe not, and sinners " are dead in tres- 
passes and sins," " led captive by the devil at 
his will." Isa. 1:6-, 2 Cor. 4:4; Ephes. 2 : 1 j 
2 Tim. 2 : 26. Thus a need exists for a re- 
medy to be provided j and, blessed be God, 
that remedy is contained in the Glorious Gos- 
pel. Here life, light, health, liberty, and life 
eternal, are treasured up •, and all, all these 
blessings are freely offered unto you. Con- 
sider, my dear aged friend, the greatness and 
extent of this offer -, it is made to you by the 
authority of God himself: — ''Come and take 
of the fountain of the ivater of life freely ;" " If 
a?iy man thirst let him come unto me and drink ;" 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 5 

"•Come unto me, I will give you rest ^ ''He that 
believeth on me shall never hunger — shall ?ieve}^ 
thirst — shall never come into condemnation, but 
shall have everlasting life.'' Rev. 21 : 6 j John, 
7: 37 5 Matt. 11 : 28, 29 •, John, 6 : 35. 

Let me respectfully urge an mquiry, ^vhe- 
ther if all these advantages were offered you 
for the body, you would either slight or hesi- 
tate to seek after them ? I think not. I think 
you would joyfully hear of them, and delay 
not an hour in making them your own : you 
would inquire most anxiously where they were 
to be obtained, and listen with the deepest 
interest to every particular that could be 
heard about them. Well, do attend to the 
voice of real friendship, which urges you 
to do the same as it regards your soul, the 
ivants of your precious soul: the case is far 
more urgent — the effects far more lasting- — 
the object more glorious. If the body were 
relieved from pain, it would still be subject to 
death, if sight were restored to the blind, yet 
death would come at some time , if liberty 
were given to the prisoner, death could not at 
last be avoided. But so far superior are the 
blessings of the Gospel to any thing that is 
earthly, that, if once possessed, they are sure 

VOL. XI. 13* 



6 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

for ever , and death itself, so far from ending 
your enjoyments, will continue them, in a 
manner not now to be conceived of, in the 
kingdom of God. 

Beware, then, my dear aged friend, how 
you continue to neglect the offers made to you. 
You would wonder at a starving man if he de- 
clined to come to a well-spread table, when 
assured by the master of it that he was truly 
welcome — you would blame the sick man 
who would not use the means of cure, when 
assured by one who had skill and knowledge 
that the remedy was suitable and had cured 
others. Oh ! yes, and saints and angels, and 
even devils, will look on you with wonder and 
surprise in your neglect of the great salva- 
tion — in your slighting the Glorious Gospel — 
in your making light of its offers and blessings. 
Remember, you are invited to it by God him- 
self, his ministers and saints repeat his offers *, 
and once more, by this friendly letter, you are 
entreated to accept of them, and not to " re- 
fuse him that speaketh." Heb. 12 : 25. 

Delay, in common things, is dangerous , but 
how much more so when heaven, or hell, may 
be the result. Oh! be wise now for eternity, 
and, ere the door of mercy be shut, come to 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 7 

the Savior who invites and assures that he 
" will in no wise cast you out." John, 6 : 37. 
Oh ! what a mercy it is that, although late in 
life, you are yet welcome \ but at the same 
lime, forget not, that its being so late is a very 
strong reason why you should not delay an- 
other hour. To the young and healthy, time 
is short and life uncertain *, but how much 
nearer is your last hour likely to be ? Let 
not, then, any earthly care, or business, or 
pleasure, tempt you to neglect your soul, or 
to say, " To-morrow I will seek the Lord." 

One aged person was thus awfully de- 
ceived, and died, it is to be feared, without 
hope. When seventy-two, she said to a friend 
who entreated her to seek the Lord, " I am 
poorly now j I shall soon be better, and then 
I will do it." Alas ! she grew worse j the sea- 
son of repentance was delayed, and death 
came without any evidence that she valued 
the Glorious Gospel, or had sought to be 
saved by it. Let such delaying folly lead you 
to avoid a like miserable, hopeless end. Come 
now, while the grace is offered, and while the 
Holy Spirit is striving with you. There is no 
other way by which you can have any hope 
of salvation : " for there is no other name 



8 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

given under heaven by which we can be 
saved j" " other foundation can no man lay 
than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ :" He 
is the ivay and the onhj way 5 " he that be- 
lieveth on him hath eternal life, but he that 
believeth not on him shall not see life^ but the 
wrath of God abideth on him." Acts, 4 : 12 j 
1 Cor. 3 : 11 j John, 14 : 6 j John, 3 : 36. 

You are on the brink of eternity, and so 
long as you remain unconverted, that eter- 
nity awaiting you is one of wo and torment. 
Neglecting this Glorious Gospel, " there re- 
maineth no more sacrifice for sin," (Heb. 10 : 
26,) and death will seal your doom for ever, 
where there is weeping and wailing and 
gnashing of teeth. Yes, my aged friend, for 
ever ! — for ever ! — for ever ! will you endure 
the wrath to come, as the awful consequence 
of your own folly in neglecting the great sal- 
vation — ^in slighting the offers of the Glorious 
Gospel. 

And shall it be so with you after all that 
has been said on the solemn subject? Will 
you indeed forego the joys of heaven, and 
choose the path that leads to hell ? Oh ! stop 
and think, I beseech you, pause and consider 
for what is it that you will lose your soul? 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 9 

What are you noio gaining by your neglect 
of the Savior 1 Are you happy ? Do you 
think yourself happier ivithoiit his salvation 
than those are who have sought it ? You are 
mistaken if you think so •, for there is no real 
peace without grace, and while unconverted 
you are without it, and can never be truly 
happy. 

Once again let me warn you of delaying to 
accept this invitation, for fear another should 
not be given j you may never hear another 
sermon — you may never again be told of the 
Savior — you may not again be entreated to 
consider "your latter end." This letter may 
be the last invitation you shall receive, the 
last message of mercy made known to you 
And, if you slight it — if you neglect to folloAV 
the advice now given, and the grace urged 
upon you for acceptance, I must not forbear 
to tell you, that it will add to your sorrows in 
the eternal world. Yes, this letter will bear 
its testimony in addition to all the sermons 
you have heard, that you were warned of your 
danger — told of a way of escape — entreated 
to seek for mercy \ but that you "chose death 
rather than life ," that you would not come to 
Christ, but made light of his salvation, of his 



10 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

love, and of his glory. Oh that the Lord may 
add his blessing to this effort for the good of 
your soul, and that, from this hour, you may 
yield yourself to Christ as your hope and your 
all, seeking to the Holy Spirit to renew and 
sanctify you, and make you " a new creature 
in Christ Jesus." 



The Invitations of the Gospel at tlie 
Eleventh Hour. 

My dear Aged Friend, 

Accept the best desires of a friend who 
longs to see the evening of your days cheered 
with well-founded hopes of a glorious eter- 
nity -, and is anxious that now, " at evening 
time, it may be light" with you. The Lord 
Jesus is yet willing to receive you, and is 
waiting to be gracious. His blood is able to 
cleanse you, and his Holy Spirit to renew you 
•' in the spirit of your mind ," to save you 
" from the wrath to come ," and cheer youi' 
declining days with a good hope of everlast- 
ing life. Oh ! do listen, while I urge you to 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 11 

think of this gracious Friend ; do pay atten- 
tion to what I tell you of Jesus , for he will 
not break " the bruised reed, or quench the 
smoking flax •/' (Isaiah, 42 : 3 j) he will not re- 
fuse to hear your humble prayer, however 
feeble or imperfect it may seem to yourself. 

! no 5 the breath of prayer, the desire for 
salvation, is implanted by his own Spirit, 
and he will draw near at the sound of your 
breathing •, and sooner shall " heaven and 
earth pass away," (Matt. 5 : 18,) than his kind 
promise fail of receiving the returning sinner. 
Do not give place to the fear that it is too late 
to seek for mercy. I readily own that it is 
too late for you to do much for the Savior , 
too late to obtain the honorable name of " an 
old disciple," but it is not too late to be an 
old convert, for the day of grace is not closed — 
the great householder is yet in his vineyard 
waiting to receive laborers even at the ele- 
venth hour -, and such, my aged friend, shall 
be welcomed as freely as those who have borne 
the burden and heat of the day. The God 

1 now invite you to serve, will not upbraid you 
for not coming before \ " he giveth liberally 
and upbraideth ?2o/." James, 1 : 5. 

Do your sins appear too great to be for- 



12 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

given, — look to Jesus , " there is forgiveness 
with him," for he " is exalted to be a Prince 
and a Savior to give repentance," (Ps. 130 : 4, 
Acts, 5:31,) even to the vilest of the vile. 
His blood can cleanse you from all your sins, 
and he is able " to save to the uttermost." 
None ever perished at the footstool of mercy , 
and sooner shall heaven and earth pass away, 
than an aged broken-hearted sinner fail of 
obtaining a welcome at the foot of the cross. 
O, believe the words which God has spoken, 
that he " willeth not the death of a sinner j" 
believe that he is willing to cleanse you from 
all unrighteousness , believe his promise, that 
he will give the Holy Spirit to those who ask 
him 5 that those who ask shall receive j that 
those who seek shall find, (2 Peter, 3 : 9 j 
Luke, 11: 11, 13,) and that he receiveth sin- 
ners, even the very chief These precious 
promises were written for your encourage- 
ment, and be assured that you shall find them 
true, whenever you do thus cry unto God for 
the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ. 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 13 



The Danger of Delay. 

Dear Aged Friend, 

Accept the best wishes of one who ear- 
nestly desires you should be happy, both now 
and through eternity. Doubtless this is your 
own desire, although you have not yet found 
the way. Fearing you may be deceiving your- 
self in a matter of so much importance, I am 
induced to address you. 

Ah ! my dear aged friend, what an awful 
thing will it be for you to be deceived when 
3^ou come to die ! and you know not how soon 
that solemn hour may arrive : — what will it 
avail you then that you now think yourself a 
Christian ? what will you then do without a 
vSavior — without that salvation which I fear 
you have neither sought, nor prized ? It is the 
worth, the unspeakable worth of your precious 
soul, that makes me thus plain and urgent 
with you. I cannot indeed describe to you the 
wrath of the Lamb, but faithfulness leads me 
to say, you will/<?e/ it for ever, if you die with- 
out a change of heart. I cannot describe to 
vou what it is to be banished from the glory 

VOL. XI. 14 



14 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

of the Lordj but, depend upon it, you will 
everlastingly endure the misery, if you die 
without seeking an interest in his grace and 
love. And can you, my dear aged friend, be 
contented to live in such a state of condem- 
nation, when you know not but that the next 
moment may be your last, and may summon 
you to appear before that God whose laws 
you have broken — that Savior whose offers 
you have slighted, and the Holy Spirit whose 
strivings you have resisted. 

Awful indeed is your condition, full of 
danger, and danger of the most imminent 
kind. Should sudden death come, the dread 
realities of an eternal world will awaken you 
but too late to a sense of your condition ! 
You will not then, as now, make light of the 
offers of his mercy, but with bitter, yet un- 
availing lamentations, confess your neglect of 
the golden opportunities which have passed 
away imimproved. Let me entreat you to give 
attention to these solemn truths, even now 
while it is called to-day — for now, yes, noiL\ 
my aged friend, the offers of mercy are again 
repeated to you j Jesus is still able and will- 
ing to save unto the uttermost. He will not 
reject you, although you have lived so long 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 15 

without him, and without attention to the great 
salvation he died to procure. 

Do then let a friend prevail in entreat- 
ing you to " seek the Lord while he may be 
found 5" (Isa. 55 : 6, 7 ,) to humble yourself 
before him for your sins , to pray for grace — 
for the Holy Spirit to teach you your need of 
mercy, and the value of the Savior^ — that one, 
that only way, by which you can be saved. 
" Other foundation can no man lay than that 
is laid. Neither is there salvation in any 
other." Oh ! that you were led to feel how 
guilty you are in the sight of God, and that 
you are utterly unable to save yourself, or 
satisfy the justice of God for your sins of 
heart and life — there is nothing but the blood 
of the Lord Jesus Christ that can make atone- 
ment for your sins. " The whole head is sick, 
and the whole heart faint j" and, as a corrupt 
fountain cannot purify itself, any more than it 
can send forth pure streams, neither could 
you, even if you had the power of keeping 
from all sin in future, do any thing to atone 
for the past. But, my aged friend, I rejoice 
to remind you, that there is one who hath 
satisfied Divine Justice in the stead of the 
sinner — hath made an atonement for sin, and 



16 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

brought in everlasting righteousness, so that 
God can be just and the justifier of the sinner 
that believeth on the Lord Jesus. The Lamb 
of God came into the world to take away sin 
by the sacrifice of himself, and he is able and 
wiUing to save, unto the uttermost, all who 
come unto God by him. To this gracious 
Savior — this Friend of sinners, I now invite 
you. My dear aged friend, you are welcome 
to come to him, to come now, for " he waiteth 
to be gracious." Isaiah, 30 : 18, 19. Do there- 
fore give heed to these invitations of mercy , 
and while the sure word of promise calls you, 
while it is the day of salvation, seek — seek, 
I beseech you, the precious influences of the 
Holy Spirit, that, as a lost, guilty, helpless, 
sinner, you may obtain the great salvation 
which the Gospel reveals. 

While I read that the blood of Jesus Christ 
cleanseth from all sin, (1 John, 1 : 7,) I know 
that I am on sure ground, when I urge and 
invite the most hardened, aged, guilty sinner 
to come to that Savior and to seek salvation 
through him. Do not despair, then, but come 
to the Lord Jesus just as you are — come to 
him at once, because life is uncertain — come 
to him with all your wretchedness, and sin, 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 17 

and wo. The whole need not a pliysician, 
but they that are sick j do then go at once to 
the great Physician, who possesses power, 
and is willing to heal you. Your spiritual dis- 
ease cannot exceed his skill and tenderness, 
for he healeth the broken in heart and bindeth 
up their wounds. 

" Deep are the wounds that sin hath made, 

" Where shall the sinner find a cure 1 
" In vain, alas ! is nature's aid — 

" The work exceeds all nature's power, 
"But in the Savior's dying blood, 

" Life, health and bliss abundant flow, 
" 'Tis only that dear sacred flood, 

" Can ease thy pain and heal thy wo." 

Do then let me urge you to hasten to this 
great and gracious Savior; and as the dying 
bitten Israelites were saved and healed by 
looking up at the serpent of brass, raised by 
Moses at the command of God, so shall you, 
dear aged friend, be saved, if you, suffering 
under the more dreadful disease of sin, bitten 
by the old serpent, look up by faith to the 
Lord Jesus Christ, who is exalted as a Prince 
and a Savior to give repentance and forgive- 
ness of sins ; for as Moses lifted up the ser- 
pent in the wilderness, even so hath the Son 

VOL. XI. 14^ 



18 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

of Man been lifted up, that whosoever cometh 
unto him' — however vile, however aged — who- 
soever cometh unto him shall not perish, but 
have everlasting life. 

But once more, let me warn you of the 
danger of delay , beware lest you be hardened 
through the deceitfulness of sin — beware lest 
you refuse him that speaketh — beware lest 
you stifle conviction, lest God in his anger 
should at last say to you, " Because I called 
and ye refused — I also will laugh at your cala- 
mity, I will mock when your fear cometh." 
Prov. 1 ; 24, 26. Dreadful indeed will it be to 
perish under the condemnation of that Gospel 
which offered life and salvation to you , dread- 
ful indeed to have the now inviting Savior be- 
come your judge to pronounce the sentence, 
"Depart, ye cursed!" Matt. 25 : 41. Oh! 
my dear, dear aged friend, take warning— fl}^, 
fly to the cross, there shall you obtain mercy — 
there shall you find safety — there shall you be 
welcomed; and, through the precious blood 
that was shed thereon, shall you be eternally 
saved, justified and glorified. 



A GlFr FOR THE AGED. 19 



A Word of Encouragement. 

My dear Aged Friend, 

Accept the assurance of my best desires 
for your present comfort and everlasting hap- 
piness. It gives me real pleasure to know 
that your anxiety has been aroused to con- 
sider the value of your soul, and your need of 
a Savior -, I say I feel pleasure to know this, 
as I long feared that you were indifferent to 
the subject, thought all was well with you, 
and did not feel yourself to be a sinner, or 
your need of a Savior. You were at peace 
then, it is true, but it was a false peace, and 
had you died in that state you would have 
been miserable for ever. I therefore rejoice, 
my dear aged friend, that you have felt your 
sinfulness, that you have been " made sorry 
after a godly sort," and that your cry has 
been, " What must I do to be saved ?" Acts, 
16 : 30, 31. I now write to help you in the 
great matter of your salvation j it is freely 
offered and firmly promised, and you shall in 
no wise be disappointed. No, the promises of 
the Gospel are eternally sure, and sooner shall 



20 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

heaven and earth pass away, than a poor con- 
vinced believing sinner fail of obtaining salva- 
tion through the mercy of God, manifested in 
the Lord Jesus Christ. 

You may, perhaps, at times have many 
fears, and be led to doubt whether, now at the 
end of your days, God will be gracious j but 
let me assure you that it is no doubtful mat- 
ter. Those who came at " the eleventh hour " 
were welcomed into the vineyard, and received 
every man a penny. You read also of the 
dying thief, whose ivhole life had been spent 
in opposition to the Lord ; yet, even in his 
expiring moments, his prayer was heard and 
mercy was granted to him. I refer to these 
cases, not to encourage indolence and pre- 
sumption, but to set before you the willing- 
ness and grace of God, who is " able to save 
to the uttermost," (Heb. 7 : 25,) and who can 
make aged transgressors become as " brands 
plucked out of the burning." 

Rejoice, then, my aged friend, that sucli 
examples of the riches of grace are left on 
record for your encouragement, and that such 
promises are in the Bible, on which you may 
build your hopes of eternal life. You cannot 
be too vile, or feeble, or depraved \ you are 



A GIFT FOll THE AGED. 21 

invited to come as such, as sinful, helpless and 
hopeless in yourself, that you may find accept- 
ance with God*, for whosoever mourn for sin 
and feel that they are condemned and lost, 
these are they to whom the Gospel is accept^ 
able — such sinners Jesus Christ came into the 
world to save , such he still receiveth, and " who- 
soever Cometh unto him, shall be in no wise 
cast out." John, 6 : 37. Call to mind the lines 
which have often cheered others : — 

" Let not conscience make you linger, 
" Nor of fitness fondly dream, 

" All the fitness Christ requireth, 
" Is to feel your need of him ; 
" This he gives you, 

" 'Tis the Spirit's rising beam." 

Here, then, my aged friend, the way is 
already pointed out to you by which comfort 
may be enjoyed — it is the work of the Holy 
Spirit — it is not in yourself*, no, but the Holy 
Spirit it is who, while he convinces you of 
sin, of your guilt and danger, must also lead 
you to the Savior, and help you to believe on 
him. The very feelings of sorrow you now 
have on account of sin were wrought in you 
by this Divine Teacher *, no other power could 
have melted your heart j nothing else could 



22 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

have made you mourn for sin , no, your iron 
heart, and the enemy of God and souls, and 
the influence of the world, would all unite to 
make sin appear desirable to you — would aid 
to blind your understanding, and to keep you 
in ignorance both of yourself and the Savior. 
If, therefore, you have felt what the Bible calls 
" the plague of your heart," that " it is deceit- 
ful above all things, and desperately wicked," 
that " in you dwelleth no good thing," ( Jer. 
17: 9 j Rom. 7: IS,) and have been led to 
rest alone on Christ for salvation, through the 
merits of his death, even though the disco- 
very of indwelling sin gives you sorrow of 
spirit, yet you may trust that the Lord hath 
begun the good work of grace in your heart, 
and that he will one day perfect it when death 
shall introduce you into his glorious presence 
in the heavenly world. Surely you will soon 
see that you have reason to rejoice, for grace 
thus begun shall be ended in glory , and, al- 
though you are now sowing in tears, you shall 
reap in joy, — " blessed are they who mourn 
(for sin) for they shall be comforted." 

And not only as it regards the end of your 
journey have you reason to be thankful that 
the promises of the Gospel are sure, but all 



A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 23 

the way that you may yet have to journey 
through the wilderness will this gracious and 
all-sufficient Guide be with you. Yes, the 
Holy Spirit will abide in you as a teacher, 
comforter and sanctifier. John, 14: 16, 17. Be 
therefore much in prayer, that you may have 
his cheering and sanctifying influences : what- 
ever are your cares, or difficulties, or sorrows, 
make them all known to God in prayer j pray 
to be led by the Holy Spirit , if you feel your 
ignorance, pray that he may instruct you j if 
you feel your thoughts wandering, pray to 
have them fixed upon the Savior , if you feel 
a backwardness to pray, pray that he would 
give you a praying spirit; are you in tempo- 
ral need, still pray, for he hath said to all 
who trust in him, " I will never leave thee, 
nor forsake thee." Isa. 33 : 16 ; Heb. 13 : 5. 
Whatever then are your wants, do not keep 
them to yourself, and sit down dejected and 
say, " Well, after all, I shall be forsaken /' do 
not do this, for it would be dishonoring God, 
who has ever been, and ever will be, the por- 
tion of his saints. "Be careful for nothing, 
but in every thing by prayer and supplication, 
with thanksgiving, let your requests be made 
known unto God." He hath said, " Call upon 



24 A GIFT FOR THE AGED. 

me in the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, 
and thou shalt glorify me." Thus then, my 
dear aged friend, let me exhort you to be 
" casting all your care upon the Lord, for he 
careth for you •," (Phil. 4:6-, Psalm 50 : 15 ; 
1 Peter, 5:7-,) he watched over you when 
you were an enemy to him in your mind by 
wicked works, and depend upon it he will not 
leave you when by the Lord Jesus Christ 
you are reconciled to him. No, the promise 
of his word tells you that " down to old age 
he will carry you, and even to hoary hairs he 
will be with you." Isaiah, 46 : 4. Fear not, 
trust his word, and you shall ere long be with 
him, where sorrow and sin can never enter. 
There you shall see his face, and sing his 
praise. 

Farewell. 



:\o. 498. 

A FRIENDLY WORD 
WITH THE GAMESTER. 



You esteem yourself a gentleman, and doubtless Avould 
pay a due regard to what you judge to be the dictates of 
reason and of conscience. As such, I ask from you a few 
moments' attention. 

You do not allow yourself to be a blind worshipper of 
chance ; yet you live by chance, and endeavor to feel 
willing so to die. Your physical constitution, perhaps, is 
firm, your health rarely impaired, and your prospect of 
long life, by your calculation, a very fair one. But have 
you considered that you expose yourself to many disastrous 
chances, from which other men are free ? A pistol-shot, 
an unexpected blow, a deadly thrust from the knife of a 
revengeful assassin, may send you in an instant into eter- 
nity, with all your sins upon your head, unconfessed, unre- 
pented, unforgiven. A single turn of the wheel, one care- 
less move, a single rattle too much may upset the whole 
game, and ruin you for ever. Your own good sense always 
leads you to look at the chances both for and against you 
in every other game. In the great game of life, then, shall 
the dark side go unreckoned, unconsidered ? No ; turn 
your thoughts for a moment from the course that has al- 
ready caused you so much remorse and agony of mind, and 
sit down and reflect on the nature of the business you pur- 
sue. To life and to death, however ungrateful the subject, 
give one serious thought. Men cannot always laugh and 
be merry — cannot always trifle and jest, and banish the 
thought of the future ; and the sooner this most important 
subject is considered, th^ better. 

We are often obliged to judge of the nature of an ac- 
tion, or course of action, by its consequences. Now a 
moment's reflection will tell you that your own conscience 
and heart are less tender than in your more youthful days. 
Then you would have hesitated to take the last dollar from 
a friend or acquaintance, even though the turn of the card 

VOL. XI. 15 



2 A FRIENDLY \VORD WITH THE (iAMESTER. 

made \ifairhj yours. It would have been worth fifty dol- 
lars to you then, in returning that dollar, to have seen the 
tear of gratitude glisten in his eye, to have felt the warm 
pressure of his hand, and to have known that you had won 
his attachment and love for ever by your generosity. How 
is it now ? Then you would have scrupled to invite to a 
game of "poker" or " euka," an inexperienced planter or 
merchant, whom chance might throw in your way as he 
was going to market to buy or sell ; and if, under the influ- 
ence of liquor, he had even invited you to play, you wotild 
have kindly advised him to forbear till he became sober. 
How is it now ? 

Reflect how useless a member of society you are, yet 
having talents to give you success in almost any useful or 
honorable employment. You have separated yourself from 
the world, and applied your talents to mere selfish purpo- 
ses. Perhaps you reply, that you have no reason to value 
or regard the good of society or your fellow-men, since 
they care not for you, regarding you as a mere outlaw, and 
stiiving to do you injury. But it is your course of life, 
and this alone, that has made you an Ishmael, with your 
hand against every man, and every man's hand against you. 
You might have been respected and beloved, but looking 
upon men only as your victims, you have learned to despise 
them all, and they return your contempt with hatred. Rec- 
ollect that your feelings towards your fellow-men were 
very difierent in your youthful days. Then you would 
have been glad to be of some benefit to them ; then you 
ardently wished to send down your name to posterity, 
along with the Howards and Wilberforces, as a benefactor 
of the human race. Alas, gaming has altered you sadly ! 

Think how many wealthy and virtuous young men have 
been beggared, and rendered debauched and vicious, if not 
by your means, yet by the habit of gaming. Think how 
many a father has been brought down in sorrow to the 
grave, in consequence of the profligacy of a son ruined by 
gaming. You had a mother once. O, have you forgotten 
her early teachings, her early prayers, her warnings, her 
bitter tears over you, her darling boy ? Do you ever think 
of her in the solitude of her chamber, weeping and pouring 
out supplications to God for her poor son ? Perhaps she 
yet lives. Night and morning she goes to the mercy-seat, 



A FRIENDLY WORD WITH THE GAMESTER. 3 

and with trembling lips implores mercy for her dear lost 
son — lost, she fears, and has reason to fear, /or ever. 

I take it for granted, that however much you may have 
tried to deceive yourself, you do indeed believe in a future, 
state of rewards and jiK'^khments. In your hours of calm 
reflection, you cannot help thinking that as " it is appoint- 
ed unto men once to die," "after death" Avill come ''the 
judgment." Still the thought is very horrible, and you 
drive it away as quickly as possible; "for if it be true," 
you say to yourself, " I am too far gone to recover ; my 
case is hopeless, for I have been an open profaner of God's 
name all my life, a proud despiser of his authority ; I am 
gone, lost, ruined — the die is cast, the game decided, and 
now I may as well meet my fate with firmness." I know, 
my friend, that you have reason to fear for yourself — your 
life has been a course of unvarying sin and rebellion against 
your Maker — you may have been instrumental in ruining 
many souls for ever, and those souls will be required at 
your hand in the day of judgment. You feel all this, and 
you judge your own case hopeless. 

You know that gaming invariably and inevitably leads 
to other vices. You know that every man who plays for 
money is a blasphemer also — he is rarely a temperate man. 
You also know, however it may be with yourself, that 
nearly all men who gamble, will lie, will cheat if they can. 
Novf if you have been, knowingly or unknowingly, an in- 
strument in inducing others to contract a habit of gaming, 
you are also responsible for all the other vices into which 
gaming has led them. You have not only to repent of 
your own sins, but of having induced others to sin, and ruin 
their immortal souls. These considerations, you say, are 
fearful, and you say truly. To use a favorite phrase of 
your own, the chances of salvation are against you. 

But hearken, my beloved friend ; there is mercy, 
tlirough the atoning blood of a divine Redeemer, even for 
you. He proclaims, " Whosoever will, let him come and 
take the water of life freely." " Though your sins be as 
scarlet, they shall be white as snow ; though they be red 
like crimson, they shall be as wool." You may have great 
reason to fear for yourself; but it is not on account of the 
exceeding sinfulness of your past life, for " the blood of 
Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin;" not on account of 



4 A FRIENDLY WORD WITH THE GAMESTER. 

God's unwillingness, for he says to all, ''Turn ye, turn ye ; 
why will ye die ?" Kothing hinders but your oivn unwill- 
ingness to embrace these free offers of mercy, give up your 
bad habits, repent of your sins, and love and serve the 
Lord who made you ; whose ways are the only ways of 
pleasantness, whose paths are the only paths of peace. 

You do sometimes wish you were a virtuous man — it 
is not yet too late. Let me entreat you seriously to set 
about the work of reform. Resolve, not in your own 
strength, but with God's help, henceforth and for ever to 
abstain from each and every game of chance. Let " total 
abstinence" be your motto. Keep a constant guard upon 
your tongue, that you no more profane the holy name of 
Him who bled and died for you — yes, you, guilty as you 
are, if you reject him not by unbelief, shall find him an all- 
sufficient Saviour. Fall on your knees and earnestly implore 
God to soften your hard heart, to make you like a little 
child. Read the Bible and attend religious worship. Em- 
brace some industrious calling. Your talents, if sanctified 
by God's Spirit, may make you of eminent service in the 
world, and in the cause of Him whose mercies you have so 
long slighted. Let me entreat you not to delay this duty a 
single hour — your soul is too precious to be longer trifled 
with. Attend to these things instantly; trust in Christ 
alone for salvation, and you shall find rest, to your soul — 
such rest as you never knew — such delightful peace as you 
never thought of. Then your possession of heaven shall 
not depend on chance ; you shall be sure of an eternal 
mansion there ; and though you may be poor in this world, 
obliged to earn your bread in the sweat of your brow, you 
shall recover the respect and esteem of your fellow-men, 
and in the end be rich, rich eternally, rich beyond all that 
your eye hath seen, or ear heard, or your imagination con- 
ceived. Is not all this worth an effort ? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I\©. 439, 



PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC 



The word of God appoints, and Christians have ever 
maintained three distinct exercises, embraced in pubhc wor- 
ship — prayer, preaching, and sacred song. Each of these, 
in its place, is important. Christians should sustain them 
all. On the truth and justice of these remarks, as they 
apply to sacred music, we base our plea in its behalf. 

When we speak of sr.cred music for the common use of 
a Christian assembly, we refer especially to compositions 
having the simplicity and brevity of Luther's Old Hundred, 
Hamburg, St. Martin's, Duke-street, Dundee, Elgin, Wells, 
and others like them ; tunes which can be adapted to many 
psalms and hymns ; and which, performed with the variety 
of expression suited to the sentiments and character of the 
poetry, will bear repetition in three, four, or five stanzas, 
without dull uniformity. Such music, connected with words 
and performed Avith proper expression, has an eloquence 
delightful and powerful ; and which may pervade the per- 
formance of a common psalm-tune, as well as of an air, 
recitative, duet, or of a chorus in Handel's Messiah, or 
Haydn's Creation. With this explanation, then, in plead- 
ing for good sacred music, Ave shall be understood to speak 
of that which is practicable for all well-trained singers, and 
within the means of any congregation able to support the 
Gospel. 

Valuable collections of psalms and hymns have been 
prepared for use in connection with sacred music, and are 
found in our places of public worship. These are princi- 
pally adapted to musical compositions of the character 

VOL. XI 15* 



2 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

already described. They open a wide field for the eloquence 
of music. - They comprise choice lyrical pieces, rich in 
scripture sentiments, and evincing the poetical talents of 
some of the most devout and heavenly- minded writers. The 
lofty conceptions of David and Isaiah ; the holy sentiments 
of Paul, John, and Peter ; and the solemn and glorious in- 
structions of the Son of God, are versified in the simplicity, 
force, and beauty of Watts, Newton, Cowper, Steele, 
D wight, and others who have cultivated sacred poetry. 
Their pages abound in delineations of the plan of redemp- 
tion, the graces of the Spirit, the warnings of the law, the 
invitations of the Gospel, and "the high praises of God." 
They set forth life, death, judgment, eternity, and all the 
themes appropriate to sacred song. 

But the proper design of the psalms and hymns cannot 
be answered in their being read or recited from the pulpit 
ever so impressively, for the plain reason that the art of 
oratory cannot do the work of music. Their appropriate 
effects are produced upon worshippers only through their 
union with music, and in their being performed with the 
expressiveness and spirit which can be given them in music. 
Let the deep and strong current of poetic thought flow in' 
the channel of music ; let the glories of the divine character 
and the excellencies of divine truth be celebrated in notes 
which shall speak them to the heart, as music can make 
them speak, and their appropriate object is answered. 

If poetry is dependent upon music for its full effect, 
so likewise is music dependent upon poetry. It is only 
in connection with the sacred and exalted sentiments of 
religion, that music takes its deepest hold on the heart. 
Irreligious persons may much enjoy it as associated with 
love, taste, elegant sentiment, with domestic and social 
affections, or with martial glory. But it is only when 
associated with the solemn and delightful subjects of the 
Christian religion, with the mercy of God in Christ, the 
glories of the divine character, the triumphs of Christian 



A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 3 

faith and hope, and the anticipated joys of heaven, that 
music demonstrates its richest worth, its sweetest and 
most irresistible power. We have then the united instru- 
mentahties of poetry and music to aid us in the worship 
of God. Thanks to him who has thus provided for the 
awakening of the deep feehngs of the renewed soul, and 
the promotion of its holiest exercises towards God. The 
preaching of the word is a merciful and inestimable appoint- 
ment. Prayer is a privilege unspeakable. In these the 
Christian may have rich enjoyment, and spiritual pros- 
perity, in his way to heaven. But his heavenly Father 
would give spring and speed to his steps ; yea, wings by 
which to rise above the earth and fly towards heaven ; and 
therefore gave him sacred song. Let not this gift be unim- 
proved. 

In the foregoing remarks, we trust, the lovers of devo- 
tional song are vindicated from the imputations, that they 
ask the gratification of taste apart from religion ; that they 
wish something thrown into religious services to relieve the 
conscience under the pressure of divine truth ; that they 
would introduce sweet sounds to soothe the alarmed and 
convicted sinner, and give him opportunity to rally his 
powers and withstand again the appeals of the word and 
Spirit of God. No : if the character and efficacy of sacred 
poetry have been justly estimated, and the power of music 
in union with it, we are advocating an exercise which is an 
inestimable auxiliary to the other services ; which empha- 
sizes truth, and gives facility to the pinions on which the 
pious soul rises to God. 

For the cultivation of sacred music, as now defined and 
described, we present a few arguments. 

1. Sacred music, as a 2^(irt of divine tvorship, is enjoined 
in the Scrij^tures. " Sing unto God, sing psalms unto 
him." " Sing forth the honor of his name, make his praise 
glorious." " come, let us sing unto the Lord, let us 
make a joyful noise unto the Rock of our salvation." 



4 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

These are not strong figurative expressions of the general 
duty of praise. They are instructions to the use of music 
in union with ''psahiis and hymns and spiritual songs," as 
means of acceptable worship. Ancient saints practised on 
these. David so much used sacred song for devotional 
purposes that he was called "the sweet psalmist of Israel." 
Paul and Silas sang praises to God in the prison at Philippi. 
Israel at tlie Red Sea, after the destruction of their Egyp- 
tian pursuers, broke forth in most lively songs of gratitude 
and joy. Sacred song made a very important and interest- 
ing part of the temple services at Jerusalem, and occupied 
the time and talents of four thousand of the best musicians 
in the nation. To read the histories of some of the sacred 
festivals of the Jews, and of the music by which they were 
rendered august and imposing, cannot fail to move the feel- 
ings of any man who has " music in his soul." They help 
our conceptions of the meaning and devotional spirit of 
David, when he said, " The Lord is in his holy temple ;" 
" Enter into his courts wdth thanksgiving, and into his gates 
with praise." 

2. The effects of music furnish an argument for its use 
in divine w^orship. All men are moved by it, more or less. 
A single song, used in France, and appealing powerfully to 
popular feeling, w^as one of the instrumentalities in bringing 
on that revolution, w-hicli many years since surprised half the 
civilized world with its terrors. The eftects of the first per- 
formance of the hallelujah chorus in Handel's Messiah were 
such as to raise the vast assembly from their seats, almost 
unconsciously to themselves. Music not only powerfully 
affects man, but even the lower animals. If such then be 
the power of music, it should be regarded as of inestimable 
worth in aiding the devotions of immortal beings assembled 
as worshippers of "the Most High God." Let the church 
patronize, cultivate, and employ it for the purposes for w^hich 
it is so eminently adapted ; and what may it not accomplish 
for the advancement of piety and devotion ? 



A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 5 

The Christian comes to the sanctuary burdened with 
trouble and sorrow, afflicted with some bereavement, or 
beset with temptations, or oppressed with a sense of 
unworthiness and guilt before God. How sweetly the 
soothino- influence of sacred sonor will sometimes come 
over his spirit. It calms the troubled waves of his soul, 
as did the voice of Jesus the stormy sea, when he said, 
" Peace, be still !" The Christian is thus led to adore 
a Father who " pitieth his children." "Awake and sing, 
ye that dwell in the dust," says the Scripture ; and from 
deepest sorrows thus break tenderest, sweetest songs. 
The weight under which the soul has been bowed down 
is removed. The mourner is comforted ; the trembhng 
believer established, quickened, strengthened ; the con- 
trite heart sweetly drawn to a reconciled God ; and cour- 
age is gathered by the Christian for the "good fight of 
faith." 

Eminent Christians have testified their experience of 
the benefits of sacred music, as they have those derived 
from meditation, prayer, and hearing the word. A devoted 
female missionary, speaking of a Sabbath service in a 
dark and dreary land, writes, " My soul was refreshed, 
particularly in the singing ; and I thought of the bliss of 
heaven." President Edwards writes, " I often used to sit 
and view the moon for continuance ; and in the day spent 
much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the 
sweet glory of God in these things ; in the mean time 
singing forth with a low voice my contemplations of the 
Creator and Redeemer." " I felt God, so to speak, at the 
first appearance of a thunder-storm ; and used to take 
the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to 
view the clouds and see the lightnings play, and hear the 
majestic and awful voice of God's thunder, which often- 
times was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet 
contemplation of my glorious God. While thus engaged, 
it always seemed natural to me to sing or chant forth my 



6 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

meditations, or to put my thoughts in soliloquies with a 
singing voice." 

The deepest feelings of the Christian, then, find the 
most natural channel for their flow in music. This ac- 
counts for the fact, that in the Scriptures sacred song is 
described as the medium of the liveliest joys and most 
exalted praises of heaven. The most inspiring songs of 
earth are immeasurably surpassed by those heard in the 
temple " not made with hands," and from the choir of the 
*' New Jerusalem." There is worship to God perfect ; 
praise offered "in the beauty of holiness." There per- 
forms a choir " which no man can number," and which 
has been formed and taught by the Son of God. There 
are employed harps, ''' strung and tuned for endless years." 
Eternity will never know dissonance, nor weariness, nor fal- 
tering, in the songs of praise before " the throne of God 
and the Lamb." " The ransomed of the Lord shall return, 
and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy shall be 
upon their heads." " And they sung a new song, saying, 
Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals 
thereof; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God 
by thy blood," "And I heard the voice of harpers harp- 
ing with their harps : and they sung as it were a new song 
before the throne, and before the four beasts and the elders ; 
and no man could learn that song save the hundred and 
forty and four thousand which were redeemed from the 
earth." 

Now we cannot suffer heartless criticism, disjoined from 
taste for either earthly or heavenly harmonies, to wrest from 
us our faith, or discourage our anticipations, that music will 
minister to the bliss for which we hope in heaven. We do 
and will believe, that "sounds of glory" will help to swell 
the " amazing joys " of the redeemed. While the pious 
soul takes wings from amid the scenes of earthly worship, 
and dissolves in tenderness and joy under the power of 
sacred music, there is rapture in the thought, " If so sweet 



A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC, 7 

be the songs of Zion on earth, what must be the holy har- 
monies of heaven?" 

3. We argue for sacred music, because its cultivation 
and 2>^^'form<xnce are ivithin the ahility of all. God has 
given to men musical powers as freely as those of speech ; 
and early and assiduous cultivation would as fully develope 
the one as the other. This has been believed by but very 
few, till of late ; and it still is doubted by many. And 
those who do believe in the universality of musical powers, 
have been long and slowly coming to this point. But ex- 
periment, that sure test of the soundness of opinions, has 
demonstrated it. Let your child be as early and faithfully 
taught to sing as to read, and he Avill make a singer as cer- 
tainly as he is made a reader. Proper musical education 
of the young, in past years, would have made our present 
congregations great choirs of singers. There is at this mo- 
ment, in all our rehgious assemblies, a vast amount of mu- 
sical talent unimproved, " buried ;" and account must be 
given for this in the last day, as for other unimproved 
talents. 

There are in our places of worship, every Sabbath, hun- 
dreds of listeners, or perhaps inattentive endurers of defec- 
tive musical performances, who ought to be engaged in 
raising the songs of joy and praise towards the throne of 
heaven. To many of these, not even now too old to learn 
ta sing the praises of God in his sanctuary, we say, " Un- 
bury your talents, cultivate them, consecrate them, and use 
them in praise of their Giver." 

Many a man, in common conversation, uses a voice full, 
clear, musical, and yet has never learned any thing more 
than Old Hundred, or perhaps a military air. Many a 
woman, in the social circle, speaks with a voice soft, sweet, 
melodious, and adapted for the service of sacred song ; but 
has perhaps never learned more than a popular love-song 
or a nursery lullaby. "These things ought not so to be." 
It is ingratitude to God, the Giver of such powers, not to 



8 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

cultivate and employ them in his praise. Scarce a bird is 
there in all "the firmament of heaven," but raises some 
notes to the praise of the Creator ; and shall man, Avhom he 
has made but "a little lower than the angels," be silent? 

The question maybe asked, "Is it necessary that all 
should sing who can ?" But if sacred song be worship to 
God, then the question is not, " how many performers are 
needed ?" rather, " who can be excused from the duty of 
singing, any more than from joining in prayer?" 

But we reply to the questions stated, as apparently 
anticipating the danger of having too much power or quan- 
tity in the service of sacred song, that there cannot be too 
many voices nor too much music in any religious assembly, 
if the voices be properly cultivated, and if it be music which 
is made, and not solemn jargon. The w^riter once listened 
to four hundred singers, sustained by the powers of a noble 
organ, in one of our city churches. It was music, in the 
true sense of the word. Among other tunes performed was 
that noblest of all. Old Hundred, in which the whole con- 
gregation were requested to join with the choir. Two thou- 
sand voices were then poured forth to swell the majestic 
river of song. Yet such was their harmony, and so judi- 
ciously and admirably were the powers of the organ brought 
out in accompaniment, that there was not one voice too 
many, nor one breath of instrumental aid too much. We 
have read of commemorations of Handel and other great 
musical festivals, for which were assembled the musical 
talent and skill of all Europe ; but we do not remember to 
have read of too much music on such occasions. No ; as- 
semble a choir of ten thousand around an organ, if you 
please, vast as a cathedral or a palace ; let harmony blend 
and bind all together ; and although the sublimity and maj- 
esty of the performances may overwhelm an audience of 
millions, still, of music there will not, cannot be too much. 
John listened to a voice "upon mount Zion," "as the voice 
of manv waters, and as the voice of a n^real thunder ;" but 



A PI>EA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 9 

he appears to have felt no oppression of his senses, for it 
was a voice full of the music of heaven. The notes were 
mighty, and yet sweet and delightful as the glory which 
surrounds the eternal throne. 

4. Appropriate sacred music is a loowerfid auxiliary to 
the preaching of the Gospel. When the minister of Christ 
has " reasoned out of the Scriptures," pressed truth and 
precept upon men's consciences ; warned, entreated, pointed 
to the "judgment to come," heaven, and hell ; then, in the 
appropriate psalm or hymn, music, like a voice from heaven, 
speaks to the inmost soul. The unconverted hearer who 
has been instructed, convinced, and made serious by the 
sermon, may melt and weep under the pathos of the " love- 
ly song," which speaks of mercy, hope, " the throne of 
grace ;" and of Christ as the sinner's Friend, Refuge,. Sav- 
iour, and *'the Prince of Peace." The backslider, shown 
by the word his way of grievous departure, when music 
falls upon his ear, perhaps in the words, 

" Return, O Avanderer, return, 
And seek an injured Father's face," 

may melt like Peter, under the tender yet piercing look 
of his Lord. Under the solemn preaching of the word, 
the deep fountains of the soul become full and swollen ; 
and then music breaks open those fountains, and makes to 
flow penitence or joy, or both sweetly mingled. 

There are few hinderances to the efficacy of preaching 
liable to exist in connection with public services, which a 
solicitous minister will more earnestly deprecate than bad 
psalmody. Let a sermon, uniting the solemnity and rich- 
ness of Baxter with the eloquence of Saurin or Massillon, 
be preceded by psalmody from the bad effect of which the 
sermon must recover the assembly before it can profit 
them ; or let such preaching be followed by singing which 
offends, through discordancy, or inappropriateness, or con- 
fusion of time, or inexpressiveness, or perhaps through all 

VOL. XI. 16 



10 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

of these together; and there is a sacrifice of spiritual 
benefit, a waste of the toils of a week of study, and a 
frustration of the ends of preaching, for which the minister 
might sit down in his pulpit and weep. The writer once 
attended an evening service in one of our city churches, 
and listened with deep interest to a discourse on that de- 
lightful text, " Whereby are given unto us exceeding great 
and precious promises." It was an admirable sermon. 
The soul of the preacher was in every sentence, and gave 
unction and eloquence to the whole. It should have been 
preceded and followed b}^ musical services in keeping with 
that sublime thought of Watts, 

" The voice that rolls the stars along 
Speaks all the promises." 

But the sinofinof was mere sound, with scarce an attribute of 
music, and would have been jeered in the social circle, and 
hissed in the concert-hall. Gabriel himself might preach, 
and the effect of his eloquence would be marred by a 
music service so void of hai-mony, heart, and expression. A 
Christian church even, through indifference to sacred music 
or parsimony, or both, may neglect this part of the services 
of the sanctuary, to the embarrassment, if not utter pre- 
vention of the usefulness of the best preaching, and to the 
destruction of the symmetry and beauty of the whole ap- 
pointments of the house of God. 

Churches and congregations should be mindful, that 
responsibility rests upon them for all which is lost of the 
proper effect of the pulpit services, through their neglect 
to provide suitably for those of sacred music. Ministers 
share in this responsibility also ; for their interest or indif- 
ference respecting this part of divine service will influence 
their people. And here let it be respectfully, yet earnestly 
urged upon the consideration of some ministers, whether 
the extensive neglect of the cultivation of sacred music has 
not been owing to their own failure to press the duty on 



A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. H 

their people, and to their indifference to it as a part of di- 
vine worship. Ever}^ minister should regard good sacred 
music as an invaluable means, along with the faithful dis- 
pensation of divine truth, for the edification of his own 
soul, and those of his hearers. If he should be anxious to 
preach well of God and his truth, so should he be sohcitous 
that his congregation shall ofier to the God of truth accept- 
able sacrifices of praise — shall sing well **the songs of 
Zion." 

5. We plead for sacred music, because, as much as 
prayer itself, it is looishij) of God. The psalms and hymns 
in common use, embrace all the parts of prayer — invoca- 
tion, adoration, confession, petition, intercession, thanksgiv- 
ing, praise, and ascription. In performing them, we pro- 
fess devotional approach to God. All the solemnity attaches 
to sacred song which attaches to prayer. Performed with 
right feelings, and in a right manner, it will always be com- 
munion Avith God, the entrance of the soul into the spirit 
of those in the upper temple, who cry, " Holy, holy, holy 
is the Lord God of hosts." 

The cultivation of sacred music, therefore, should be 
regarded as preparation for a service in which God is to be 
approached, who is " great, and greatly to be feared, and 
to be had in reverence by all them that are about him." 
The feelings, spirit, sentiments, habits of deportment, which 
should be cultivated in the scenes of musical instruction 
and practice, must be those of devout seriousness and relig- 
ous emotion. And the sinorer should he a Christian : should 
feel that " the place whereon he standeth is holy ground," 
that he approaches ''the throne of grace," and that he 
performs services in which God "requireth truth in the 
iuAvard part." He must not be a mere vocalist or amateur, 
making: an exhibition, delio^htino- the ear and reo^alinff the 
taste of an audience of dying men. He must, in singing, 
oflFer the sacrifices of the heart. His soul must go up in 
fervent aspirations to God. Singing the songs of the sane- 



12 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

tuary is a service scarcely less serious than preaching and 
prayer. 

To the question, then, " How shall the spirit of devo- 
tion be promoted in our congregations ?" it is one proper 
answer, " make psalmody what it should be, as a solemn, 
heart-felt act of worship to God." The spirituality appro- 
priate to prayer and preaching, belongs equally to " the 
service of song." And when performers, as Christians, 
throw their souls into this service, and when the attending 
assembly join them in sincerity of heart, then will be 
" ofi'ered up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God." Then 
will holy affections be increased in the hearts of Christians ; 
and the sanctuary will be, to the assembled throng, " the 
house of God" — "the gate of heaven." 

The limits of this Tract admit but a brief notice of some 
misapprehensions and erroneous habits of thought among 
Christians, which need correction and removal before sacred 
music can have its proper place in the estimation of the 
churches. 

Christian people must cease to regard sacred music as 
a matter on ivhich theij con he indifferent, or of the support 
of which they can be negligent, and yet be guiltless. If it 
is appointed of God as a portion of divine service, for his 
honor and our good, then Christians must prize it highly, 
sustain it systematically and liberally, and expect from it 
religious benefit, steadily and largely. 

Christians must cease to regard sacred, in the same 
light with secular music. Many, probably, have so regard- 
ed it, because it has been much in the hands and under 
the direction of persons not of religious, and sometimes not 
even of moral character. How has this happened ? Tru- 
ly, because Christians have neglected it; and other men 
have taken it up and kept it in existence as a mere matter 
of taste. Let Christians take sacred music into their own 
hands, consider it as much claiming their care as prayer 



A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 13 

and preaching in the pulpit ; provide for it in the educa- 
tion of children and youth, especially in the art of music ; 
and select and employ a Christian leader of sacred song 
as much as they do a minister of the sacred Gospel ; and 
they will not then be troubled with the interference of men 
destitute of religious character, nor will they be dependent 
upon such for the conduct of this holy service. 

Christians must cease to regard music as only appro- 
priate to the drawing-room, or scenes of gayety and festiv- 
ity, or to the theatre and the military parade. Music is a 
heaven-born art ; is one of the richest gifts of a merciful 
God to a world w^here sin, confusion, sorrow, and tears, 
has so much place. *'The children of this world" see its 
worth, and they borrow it of the church so much, that the 
church almost forgets that it is one of her rightful posses- 
sions. The first and proper place of music, on this side of 
heaven, is in the house of God. Its most appropriate use 
is by " the great congregation," in the worship of " the 
high and lofty One who inhabiteth eternity." 

We protest against Christians regarding sacred music 
as an elegant and expensive luxury, a mere superjluity in 
religious services. It may be made so, it is triie, by hiring 
foreign and merely professional performers, who serve the 
church on the Sabbath, and the theatre and the devil all 
the week. But employ Christian men to teach the children 
and youth, and to train the older members of the congre- 
gation, and to conduct the musical performances of the 
Sabbath, and it is no more an expensive superfluity than 
is education to read the Bible ; than prayer ; than the dis- 
pensation of the blessed Gospel. 

Those Christians who have not the taste for music 
Avhich others have, should be considerate of their fellow- 
Christians to whom it is pleasant, and " for their good to 
edification." 

Sacred music must not be blamed because it has 
wrought, in so few places and on so limited a scale, the 

VOL. XI. 16=^ 



14 A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 

benefits Ave have ascribed to it. By liberal patronage and 
assiduous cultivation, make it what it ought to be, and 
then give it a fair trial. It will assuredly prove its worth. 
Many religious assemblies know not what good sacred 
music is, because it has been a neglected and undervalued 
part of divine service. When they will make it what they 
should, and to be in keeping with good preaching and de- 
vout prayer, then they will knoAV what it is ; and know, 
too, what a defective and useless service they have long 
been substituting and mistaking for true sacred music. 

Music must not be regarded as a mere art, and its 
effects as a species of enchantment not belonging in associ- 
ation with religion. Poetry and eloquence are arts ; and 
their power is great as employed for evil purposes ; but 
who argues, hence, that they are to be discarded from all 
association with religion ? 

Sacred music must not be cultivated and sustained 
simply as a matter of taste. It has often failed to accom- 
plish its proper effects where it has been considerably cul- 
tivated ; probably because pleasure has been sought in its 
sweetness and power, rather than in the praises of God, of 
which it is properly the medium. To cultivate and main- 
tain music in Sabbath services simply to gratify taste, 
would be sin against God, as much as a minister's culti- 
vating oratory, and his people supporting him for the pur- 
pose of oratorical exhibitions on the Sabbath. 

The object of sacred song being the praise of God and 
the spiritual profit of worshippers, Christians should on the 
Sabbath commend these services to the divine blessing, as 
steadily as they do the preaching of the Gospel and the 
administration of the ordinances. Ministers should set their 
churches an example, in praying for those who lead in 
the "service of song." The effect may be inestimably 
happy. 

The education of the young in sacred music, is an object 
of high importance. M.usie, as well as the reading of our 



A PLEA FOR SACRED MUSIC. 15 

own language, should be taught in our common-schools ; 
and our children accustomed to sing, as well as to talk and 
read. Then, whoever becomes a Christian w^ill be pre- 
pared for the delightful work of singing the praises of 
God. 

Sacred music should be cultivated in Christian families, 
and used in the seasons of morning and evening devotion. 
A more delightful s&ene cannot be presented on this side 
heaven, than when parents, with their sons and daughters, 
surround the family altar, and devoutly unite their voices 
in sacred song. Such services will promote domestic hap- 
piness and kind affections. If there be affliction in the 
family, grief will be soothed. Pious feeling will be aided 
in those who are Christians, and their steps quickened in 
the way to heaven. Thoughtfulness, tenderness of spirit, 
and anxiety on the subject of salvation, will be promoted 
in such of the members as are without hope. The ques- 
tion, " Shall I never sing with these beloved ones in heav- 
en?" may sometimes come over the spirit of the uncon- 
verted one, with force which cannot be resisted, and may 
lead to earnest seeking of the grace of God. Transfer this 
family to the sanctuary on the Sabbath, and they are pre- 
pared to aid efficiently in the songs of the solemn assembly. 

If there be one occasion when the whole souls of the 
assembled church should flow forth to their Lord and Re- 
deemer, in holier and livelier devotion than on any other, it 
is the ordinance of the Lord's sujyper. And if there be 
one channel especially adapted for this purpose, it is that 
of sacred song. To celebrate the dying love of Christ, in 
the tenderness of spirit, the sincerity of devotion, and in 
the fervency, gratitude, faith, and joy which become souls 
redeemed, nothing affords such a medium as sacred song. 
Those lines, 

" How sweet and awful is the place, 
With Christ within the doors !" 

cannot be felt adequately, except they be sung, and that in 



10 A PLKA FOR SACRED MUSfC. 

the true sense of the word, around the Lord's table. Sac- 
ramental singing, unhappily, is often exceedingly defective. 
Christian, let it no more be thus. Learn to sing, that you 
may be prepared to give honor to your divine Redeemer in 
the songs of that holy, heavenly hour. Then, amidst that 
scene, will you make nearest and happiest approaches to 
the songs of angels and the redeemed before the throne of 
God. 

On the subject of this Tract, we do not expect to 
awaken in all minds the enthusiasm seen in some who may 
be called passionately fond of music. But we earnestly 
desire to awaken Christian conscientiousness and feeling 
respectmg it ; and to induce efforts which shall raise it to 
a higher point of excellence, usefulness, and dignity, than 
it has ever yet reached in our country. An interest is 
requisite which shall be deep, serious, lively, steady ; which 
shall hold alliance with the spirit of prayer, and with thirst 
for instruction in divine truth, and for holiness ; and which, 
interwoven with all the religious affections, as are the 
effects of the other services of the sanctuary, shall aid the 
growth of grace in the hearts of Christians, and their prep- 
aration to enter upon the holiness and bhss of eternity. 

A premium, offered by a friend, wels awarded to Rev. Edward 
W. Hooker, D. D., author of this Tract. 



Xo. 430. 



FATAL DELUSIONS. 



Reason and Scripture teach that men may hold opin- 
ions which phice their eternal salvation in jeopardy. If this 
is not so, then, ultimately, it will make no difference what 
opinions we embrace; and God, in his final awards, must 
be indifferent to both truth and error. But the apostle 
Paul, 2 Thess. 2 : 11, 12, plainly teaches that men may 
be left to embrace opinions which destroy the soul. 

The first of these which we adduce, is InJideUty. Infi- 
delity consists in the rejection of the Bible as a divine reve- 
lation, and, of course, of the plan of salvation which it re- 
veals. Its fundamental principle is, that human reason 
alone is sufficient to guide us into all truth, and that a di- 
vine revelation is not needed, and has not been given. By 
adopting this theory, you reject all revealed religion, and 
rest your eternal hopes and prospects upon these three 
principles : the being of a God, your own reason, and the 
light of nature. But rejecting the Bible, how can you cer- 
tainly know whether there is one God or many ? What can 
you know about the attributes of God ? By what certain 
standard can you determine what is vice and what is virtue ? 
By what authority can you recommend men to forsake vice 
and to pursue virtue ? Is it not clear that infidelity takes 
away all certainty of the unity of God, veils his moral 
attributes in darkness, destroys the distinction between vice 
and virtue, takes away the foundation of all religion, and 
leaves man without any supreme power to control or direct 
him? 

There is surely nothing in infidelity to teach that we are 
sinners, to show us our relations to God, to teach us rever- 
ence for him or his government, or our need of conformity 
to his holy character. The only hope for the salvation of 
the infidel is the bare possibility that his system may be 
true : and if true, then the past is all imposture ; and the 
vast future is covered with the impenetrable shades of an 
eternal night. Infidelity is therefore a fatal delusion. 



2 FATAL DELUSIONS. 

The next fatal opinion we adduce, is the rejection of the 
divinity of Christ. And by this we mean, the rejection of 
his supreme divinity as equal with the Father. Unless 
Christ is God, what do these scriptures mean ? " Great is 
the mystery of godliness: God Avas manifest in the flesh." 
"He shall be called the mighty God, the everlasting Fa- 
ther." *'The Word Avas God." "Had they known, they 
would not have crucified the Lord of glory." And if he 
is not the true God, where has been the intellect of the 
church for 1800 years? If not the true God, can the Bible 
be other than a dark, and deceptive, and dangerous book? 
Christ either is God, or he is not. If he is not God, then 
his church until now, with all its companies of martyrs, and 
missionaries, and holy men, has been composed of gross 
idolaters ; for they have worshipped him as God, If he 
is God, the rejecter of his supreme divinity withholds the 
homage which is his due, and subjects himself to the awful 
sentence, "As for these mine enemies, that would not have 
me to rule over them, bind them hand and foot, and cast 
them into outer darkness, where is weeping and gnashing 
of teeth." 

The divinity of Christ is not among the less vital points 
of Christian doctrine, which men may receive or reject 
without putting their salvation in jeopardy. It touches 
every spring of life and action in our faith and practice. 
Rejecting his divinity, we reject his atonement, his right- 
eousness, his intercession ; or receive them in such a way, 
as to render them of no avail. To believe in Christ savingly, 
we must believe on him as he is, " God manifest in the 
flesh." • Is not, then, the rejection of the deity of Christ, a 
vital error, a fatal delusion ? Does not Peter assert this ? 
2 Peter, 2:1. 

The next error we adduce, is the denial of future punish- 
ment. If Christ, by his death, secured the salvation of 
every man, there never was a fact more equivocally pub- 
lished — the Bible greatly misleads, and very needlessly 
alarms. If there is no future punishment, there is no way 
of accounting for the awful threatenings of the New Tes- 
tament. What mean hundreds of texts like these ? " Ex- 
cept a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of 
God." " He that believeth not the Son, shall not see life, 
but the wrath of God abideth on him." "These shall go 



FATAL DELUSIONS. 3 

away into everlasting punishment." " The smoke of their 
torment ascendeth up for ever and ever." 

If there is no future punishment, then the moral law has 
no penalty. The general reply to this, that its penalty is 
inflicted in this life, is inadmissible, because contradicted by 
universal experience. If there is no future punishment, 
where is the foundation of morals ? If God will treat all 
men alike hereafter, why not regard them all alike here ? 
And Avhy is it not right and proper for men to be imitators 
of God, and to regard all men alike, irrespective of their 
moral character ? Here, then, the distinctions between vir- 
ture and vice are gone for ever, and the gulf which, accord- 
ing to the Bible, separates heaven and hell, is filled up. 
Must not, then, the rejection of future punishment be a 
fatal delusion ? 

The next we adduce, is a dependence on mere morality 
for salvation. The position of the moralist is this : " If I 
live an honest and moral life here, it will be well with me 
hereafter." There can be no religion without morality ; but 
morality is not religion. If it is, then it was unnecessary 
that the Saviour should visit our world. A good system 
of morals could have been promulged at an expense infi- 
nitely less than his mission and death. If morality will 
finally save, the atonement is unnecessary; and the making 
of it was an act of cruelty in God : the trials and sufferings 
of Christ were without sufficient cause. But the Bible, by 
many a precept and example, teaches the contrary. Read 
the history of the young man who kept the law from his 
youth — ponder the conversation of Nicodemus with the Sav- 
iour — diligently consider the life of Paul, which, up to the 
period of his conversion, was, in the eye of the law, blame- 
less. Can you, for a moment, believe that dependence on 
your morality is sanctioned by the Scriptures ? 

The above position strikes a blow at the whole system 
of revealed religion ; for the mere moral man is an infidel 
in theory, and an atheist in practice.. He substitutes his 
morality for the atonement, and himself for the Saviour. 
He rejects salvation by grace, and if he seeks it at all, he 
seeks it as the reward of his own works. Can it be other- 
wise than a fatal delusion ? 

The next we adduce, is procrastination. This consists 
in putting off submission to God to a more convenient sea- 



4 FATAL DELUSIONS 

son. This takes too many things for granted. It takes for 
granted, that repentance and faith may be better exercised 
at some future time than now ; which is not the case. Whilst 
without repentance towards God, Ave are every day going 
from bad to worse. — It takes for granted, that God will be 
as ready to receive us at a future time as now ; which may 
not be the case. There is such a thing as exhausting the 
patience of God, and as his hearing our prayers Avithout 
answering them, Prov. 1 : 26, 28. — It takes for granted, 
that if we reach the time proposed in the future, we shall 
then have our present desires to forsake sin ; which may 
not be the case. A course of sin never deepens, but always 
weakens religious impressions. The current of sinful de- 
sires is ever increasing in strength. — It takes for granted, 
that 3"ou are as sure of time to come as of the present ; 
■which is not the case. We know not what a day may bring 
forth. Our continued earthly existence depends on so many 
contingences beyond our control, that Ave are in jeopardy 
every hour. And then, hoAv feAV that procrastinate ever 
embrace the SaA^our. It is a delusion of the devil, to gain 
time so to rivet upon you the chains that bind jou to death, 
as to make your damnation sure. 

In theory, these delusions differ very Avidely ; but yet 
they all lead to the same result. We do not assert that 
the theoretical believer Avho postpones submission to Christ, 
is as bad as those Avho openly deny him and his Gospel ; 
or that the moral man is as bad as the infidel or atheist. 
But they all agree not to have Christ to reign over them 
here ; and in the Avorld to come, they must be alike exclud- 
ed from the consolations of his presence, and the joys of 
his salvation. 

There is no Avay of salvation, but through the Lord 
Jesus Christ : He is " the Avay, the truth, and the life." 
And every sentiment, Avhatever be its type or character, 
that prevents us from believing in him, however honestly 
entertained, is a fatal delusion. Unless eventually found 
in him as our head, and clothed in his righteousness, and 
sanctified by his Spirit, all, all Avill be lost. Cast, then, 
your guilty soul noAV upon his atonement, crying, God be 
merciful to me a sinner. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 431 



THE 



LIFE-PRESERYER. 



Commencing a long journey which was to take me 
upon most of our western lakes and rivers, I took the pre- 
caution to provide myself with a life-preserver of the best 
construction. My reasons for doing this were these. I had 
always felt great confidence in these simple instruments. 
They are constructed on principles perfectly philosophical. 
Several individuals from the circle of my own acquaintance 
had been saved by them when in imminent peril. The 
expense of the article was very trifling. It was not at all 
in the way. So far from this, I found it a positive con- 
venience, as a cushion by day and a pillow by night. 

My custom was, every night before retiring to sleep, to 
examine my life-preserver, and see that it was where I 
could place my hand upon it in an instant ; and often, when 
the winds blew, and the waves dashed against the boat, I 
felt a sense of security in the possession of that which, 
with the blessing of God, might preserve me in an emer- 
gency ; and this of itself amply repaid me for my purchase. 

Soon after entering the Mississippi river, we were not a 
little agitated by an accident which befell the boat. The 
night was dark and tempestuous, and the "Father of 
waters" angry and frightful. The passengers sprung from 
their berths, and rushed together into the main saloon. 
The accident proved to be of small consequence ; and the 
alarm very soon subsided. 

Returning to my state-room with this incident fresh in 
mind, I fell into a sort of waking dream. I thought I was 
on one of our inland seas, in a violent tempest. Our vessel, 
dismasted and disabled, was rapidly driving on a lee shore. 
Death, in one of its most frightful forms, was staring us in 
the face, for the captain was heard to say, "We are all 
gone for this world." The passengers were evidently making 
ready for the last struggle. And now I observed, for the 

VOL. XI. 17 



2 THE LIFE-PRESERVER. 

first time, that some, amid the general consternation, seemed 
perfectly calm and composed. They were very solemn, but 
gave no sign of fear. On looking again, I saw that they 
were provided with life-preservers, large and strong, of the 
very best kind. These they had already attached to their 
persons, and feeling the utmost confidence in this means of 
preservation, they were quietly waiting the issue. An emo- 
tion of jo}^ was depicted on their countenances, as if they 
were thanking God that they had secured, in good season, 
what was now of great price. 

But how shall I describe the terrors and dismay of the 
other passengers, as they passed to and fro before my eye. 
Very few had any hope of reaching the shore. Their faces 
were pale, and they wrung their hands in despair. 

"What a fool I was," said one, " that I did not buy a 
life-preserver before I left home. / always meant to do it. 
They were exposed for sale right before my eye every day. 
My friends entreated me to procure one, and I promised 
that I would. I thought I could obtain one at any time. 
But I init it off, and noiv it is too late^ 

" / did not believe there 2vas any danger,^^ said another. 
" I have passed over these lakes many times, and never 
saw such a storm before. 'Tis true, I was warned that 
come they would, in an hour when I looked not for them ; 
but as I had passed safely without a life-preserver before, 
I concluded to run the risk again.'" 

Another I observed hastening to his trunk, and return- 
ing instantly with the case of a life-preserver in his hand, 
but an expression of blank despair on his countenance. The 
article had once been good, but he had not taken care of it. 
He had thrown it loosely among his effects, and it had been 
punctured by a pin. It was now a mockery of his woe. 
He tried to mend it, but this was impossible. There was 
not time for this. 

Another produced with great joy what seemed an ex- 
cellent life-preserver, but when he proceeded to adjust it, 
he found that he had been cheated. It ivas a counterfeit 
article. He did not procure it at the right place. To all 
appearance it was sound. It would retain its shape and 
buoyancy for a while, but would not hear the pressure of a 
maris whole weight. It would answer very well for a few 
minutes in smooth water, but could not he relied on in an 



THE LIFE-PRESERVER. ;\ 

emergenci/. He had never examined it before ; and now, in 
the hour of need, found it utterly worthless. 

At length my eye was arrested by a young man who 
had been notorious throughout the voyage for his gayety 
and frivolity. On one occasion, during a pleasant day, he 
had made sport of those who had wisely prepared for the 
time of peril. He pronounced their forethought a waste of 
money. And now I saw him addressing a gentleman whom 
he had previously ridiculed, and in a subdued and anxious 
manner inquiring whether his life-preserver was not capable 
of saving them both. The man replied that he would most 
gladly extend any help in his power, but it was made only 
for one person, and was not warranted to sustain more. 

Reader, there is a hope which is as an anchor to 

THE SOUL, BOTH SURE AND STEADFAST. The grOUud On 

which it rests is the mercy of God, through our Lord Jesus 
Christ. The time is coming when you ^vill certainly need 
it. Life may now be like a smooth and sunny sea ; =but 
very soon you will be amid the swellings of Jordan. 

A good hope in Christ is certain to save. Never did 
one perish who possessed it. It was never known to dis- 
appoint in the time of need. Millions have been saved by 
it ; and God has promised that it shall never make ashamed. 
Is it not wise for you to obtain it ? 

To say the least, it can do you no harm, should there 
be no judgment nor retribution. It cannot encumber you 
during your lifetime. It is worth every thing, even in 
prosperous days, and beneath cloudless skies. The sense 
of security which religion creates, is of great price. To 
know that whatever may happen, you are safe ; to be con- 
fident that "neither life nor death, things present nor things 
to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, is 
able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ 
Jesus our Lord ;" is it not worth more than all silver and 
gold? 

Moreover, this hope may easily he obtained. It is *'set 
before you." It is pressed upon your acceptance. Because 
of this, do not say that you can obtain it at any time. For 
this is not true. There is no time to forge and bend an 
anchor when the storm is raging. If you postpone repent- 
ance too long, disappointment and destruction will overtake 
you loithout remedy. Do not delay the pursuit of religion. 



4 THE LIFE-PRESERVER. 

Seek it first of all. Pious friends entreat you to seek it 
now. The experience of those who have delayed too long, 
and died ''without hope," warns you to be wise in season. 

Be careful that your hope is of the right kind. There 
is a hope which perisheth when God taketh away the soul. 
There are false spirits, false religions, false hopes, and coun- 
terfeit graces. Examine well the hope which is in you. 
Be sure that it rests on the right foundation, Jesus Christ 
being the chief corner-stone. 

If you have found hope in Christ, take care of your hope. 
Protect it from injury ; watch it ; keep it with all diligence. 
And as you cannot tell the day nor the hour when the Son 
of man cometh, be always ready. Let your light be trim- 
med and burning, as men that wait for their Lord. Death 
can never be unexpected, if you are always anticipating it ; 
never sudden, if you are always prepared for it. 

Remember, that religion is a concern between your own 
soul and God. The conduct of others is no excuse for you. 
" He that is wise, is wise for himself; and he that scorneth, 
he alone must bear it." Soon, very soon, the hour of trial 
will come. The winds will blow, the rain fall, and the 
floods come, and the great storm beat against your house. 
You must go down into the river of death alone. Friends 
cannot go with you ; they cannot help you. But " he that 
believeth in Jesus is safe," even when the waves and bil- 
lows go over his soul. The arm of the Redeemer will keep 
you from sinking ; and amidst the pains and mysteries of 
dying, you may lift up j^our head and say, " Thou wilt keep 
him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee ;" and 
a voice from heaven shall answer, " Fear not : when thou 
passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through 
the rivers, they shall not overflow thee ;" and, borne along 
by the " everlasting arms" which are beneath you, you shall 
reach in safety that peaceful shore where the grateful spirit 
shall rest with God. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 



FALSE CLAIMS OF THE POPE. 



It is well known that the Pope of Rome claims to be 
the universal Bishop and Head of all the Church, the 
vicegerent of Christ in the world — to whom all are as 
much bound to render obedience as unto Christ himself. 
These are high claims, and if true, it is of immense im- 
portance that all the world should know it. They are 
high claims for a mere mortal man to make, and we have 
a right to expect very clear evidence that they are just. 

The mere assertion of a man that he is the representa- 
tive of Christ on the earth, is not sufficient to satisfy us. 
We know well that nothing is more common in this world 
than deception : and men are continually professing to be 
what they are not. We know also, that our Savior and 
his apostles put us on our guai'd against false Christs, 
false prophets, and false teachers, and told us expressly 
to believe not every spirit, but to tr?/ the spirits whether 
they be of God. If we believe every man who declares to 
us that he comes in the name of Christ, we must believe 
nearly all the impostors and heretics that have lived. We 
are under no obligations to receive any man's mere word 
on such a subject ; but it is our privilege and duty to ask 
for his testimonials. 

The Pope comes to us with the claim of being the re- 
presentative of Christ on the earth. Before we believe 
that his claim is just, it becomes us to examine his cre- 
dentials. What are the true grounds of this claim 1 For 
if he cannot make it appear plain that such power has 
been given to him, then we are bound to reject him as 
an impostor and deceiver, and we have nothing to fear 
from his threats or anathemas. He may utter the most 
fearful curses against us, and threaten to send us all to 
perdition : still he is a weak and feeble man like our- 
selves, and his threats are of no more weight than a breath 
of wind. 

Upon what then does he rest his claim 1 He says, 

VOL. XI. 17* 



2 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

" Peter was constituted the head of the Apostles^ and uni- 
versal Bishop of the Church ^ and tee, the Popes, are his 
successors'' 

This declaration has two parts : first, Peter ivas consti- 
tuted head of the Apostles, and secondly, the Popes arc- 
successors of Peter. It is evident that tliese two proposi- 
tions are perfectly distinct from one another ; and even 
though it should be proved that Peter was the head of the 
Apostles, yet that would by no means show that the Popes 
of Rome are the lawful successors of Peter. How do we 
krxOw that Peter was to have any successors 1 and second- 
ly, who has informed us that the Bishops of Rome were to 
be those successors, rather than the Bishops of Jerusalem % 
or Antioch 1 or Ephesus % 

But let us first inquire. Was Peter constituted by Christ 

THE HEAD OF THE ApOSTLES % 

The chief proof of this adduced by the Papists, and 
without which they would have scarcely a shadow upon 
which to rest, is the declaration of our Lord to Peter, 
Matt. 16 : 18, " And I say unto thee that thou art Peter, 
and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates 
of hell shall not prevail against it." 

Peter had just before declared, " Thou art the Christ, 
the Son of the living God." The question now is, did our 
Savior intend to say that Peter is the rock on which the 
church rests — the foundation of the New Testament fa- 
bric ] No one can believe that Christ intended to say that 
he (Peter) is the foundation of the church in any proper 
sense; for Paul says, 1 Cor. 3 : 11, "Other foundation 
can no man lay than that is laid, which is Christ Jesus.'" 
Properly speaking, therefore, the church has only one 
foundation, and that is Christ. In a secondary sense, how- 
ever, there may be other foundations. Thus, Paul says, 
Gal. 2 : 9, that " James, Cephas and John seemed to be 
pillars'' And to the Ephesians he says, chap. 2 : 20, 
** And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and 
projyhets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner- 
stone." In both these places most evidently the instruc- 
tions or doctrines of the apostles are the foundalion spoken 
of, and not, properly speaking, the apostles themselves. 
It is the truth which they declared that supports the church 



OF THE POPE. 3 

as a foundation or pillar, and not any official rank or dig- 
nity of theirs : and in like manner it was the truth declared 
by Peter, " Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living 
God," which Christ called the rock upon which his church 
was to be built, and not Peter himself In this manner 
St, Augustine (one of the fathers acknowledged by the 
E-omish church) explains this passage. He says, " Thou 
art Peter, and upon the rock which thou hast confessed — 
upon this rock which thou hast known, saying, ' Thou art 
Christ, the Son of the living God,' will I build my church. 
I will build thee upon me, and not me upon thee." Aug. 
de verb. Domin. Sum. 13. Chrysostom also, another dis- 
tinguished father, gives the same intei-pretation. He says 
Christ " does not say upon Peter, for he did not build his 
church on the man but on the man's faith. And what was 
this faith % It was, ' Thou art the Christ, the Son of the 
living God.' " See Chrys. sermon i. on the Passover. 
Eusebius understood the passage in the same way. Je- 
rome explained it in the same manner. See Jerome on 
Matt. 16 : IS. And so did Cyril. See Trinit. book 4, 
chap. 1. And so did Origen, and many others. 

Whatever interpretation we give to this passage — whe- 
ther we follow that of Augustine and other esteemed fa- 
thers of the church, or choose to adopt some other expla- 
nation, we must all agi-ee in this, that our Savior did not 
mean to build his church, strictly speaking, on such a poor 
and weak foundation as any mere creature would be, and 
therefore not on the Apostle Peter, who showed himself 
repeatedly to be only a weak and inconstant man : — once 
by the weakness of his faith when attempting to walk 
upon the water ; once when he endeavored to persuade 
Christ not to make an offering of himself for sin, and 
Christ rebuked him, saying, " Get thee behind me, Satan, 
for thou savorest not the things which be of God, but 
those that be of men;" and again, when with oaths and 
curses he denied his Master. And once more, some time 
after the death of Christ, when, if ever, he must have 
been fully installed in his office, we find melancholy proof 
that he was only a weak and fallible man, when he dis- 
sembled with the Gentile converts ; and Paul says, Gal. 
2:11, *' I withstood him to the face, because he was to 
he hlamedr 



THE FALSE CLAIMS 



It is cheeiiuUy ncknowledged that Peter was a most 
active and distinguished Apostle of Jesus Christ, and one 
of the most prominent instruments in spreading the Gos- 
pel in the world. By him the first publication of the Gospel 
after the deatjti of Christ was made to the Jews, and after- 
wards to the Gentiles ; and he was ever ready to suffer for 
the name of Christ. We would not utter one word to de- 
rogate from his truly exalted character as a bold and zea- 
lous preacher and apostle. Peter was inspired of God to 
make the great profession, *' Thou art Christ, the Son of 
the living God." He was inspired to teach, to write, and 
to perform all the other duties of his apostolical office. 
Still in his private conduct he was a mere man, and, as 
his history proves, an eiTing man ; and it is evident he did 
not consider himself, nor can any one else consider him 
in any proper sense the foundation of tlie church. The 
only foundation we know is Christ; and Paul says, as we 
have already quoted, " Other foundation can no man lay 
than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ;" and Peter him- 
self represents it so, 1 Pet, 2 : 5, 6, w^here he represents 
believers as *' living stones," built upon one another, and 
having for their foundation, not Peter, but Christ, whom 
he calls, by a quotation from the Old Testament, " the 
chief Corner Stone," &;c. And if Peter is in any sense 
called the foundation of the church, so are also James and 
John, Gal. 2:9, and so also are all the ajwstles and 
prophets. In this secondary and figurative sense they may 
be foundations : that is, their words, spoken or written 
under the infallible direction of the Holy Spirit, may be, 
and are the foundation of our faith. But in this respect 
Peter has no supremacy over the other Apostles. They 
are all together called foundations in this sense, and no 
passage in the word of God can be found that ascribes 
any peculiar power to Peter in this respect. If there is 
such a passage let it be produced. 

The next proof adduced by the Papists is Matt. 16 : 19, 
where Christ says unto Peter, " I will give unto thee the 
keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt 
bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever 
thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." Keys 
are the emblem of authority, and it is evident that the 
giving of the keys, and conferring the power of binding 



OF THE POPE. 



and loosing, are one and the same thing. But this power 
was conferred ahke on all the Apostles, as we see from 
Matt. 18 ; 18, where Christ says to all the disciples to- 
gether in the same words, " Whatsoever ye shall bind on 
earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever ye shall 
loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven ;" and also from 
John, 20 : 23, when he said to all the disciples, " Whose- 
soever sins ye remit they are remitted, and whosesoever 
sins ye retain, they are retained;" which means the same 
as the binding and loosing. Now, whatever authority this 
commission of our Savior conferred on Peter, it is plain 
that precisely the same authority was conferred by the 
same words on the twelve disciples, so that it is in vain to 
quote this text in proof that Peter was endowed with a 
supremacy among the Apostles. 

Another proof adduced by the Papists is the passage in 
John, 21 : 15-17, where our Savior asks Peter three times, 
" Lovest thou me more than these ]" and directs him to 
feed his lamhs and Ms slieep. That this language is figura- 
tive, is perfectly evident, and it is impossible that any 
should deny it. The terms " lambs" and " sheep " are used 
figuratively for the true disciples of Christ, and to " feed " 
them, is evidently to instruct them, and spiritually to nou- 
rish them with wholesome doctrines. It must also be clear 
to all who read the Scriptures, that this power to instruct 
was not given to Peter exclusively, but to all the preach- 
ers of the Gospel. In Acts, 20 : 28, Paul addressing the 
Elders of Ejjhesus, tells them to '■''feed the church of God," 
and Peter in his first Epistle, chap. 5, verse 2, exhorts 
the Elders then laboring: among: the christians whom he 
addresses, to '•'■feed the flock of God y The authority con- 
ferred on Peter by our Savior in this passage, was, there- 
fore, equally conferred on all elders, preachers, or bishops, 
and consequently this passage does not indicate any su- 
premacy. If the question be asked, " Why then did our 
Savior single out Peter from the rest, and address him 
alone in this way ?" To this various answers may be 
given, but the following seems to be the true reason : 
Peter had professed a -peculiar attachment to Christ. He 
had said. Matt. 26 : 33, " Though all men should be of- 
fended because of thee, yet will I never ;" and again, verse 
35, *' though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny 



6 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

thee." He had also been j^eculiarly guilty in that he was 
the only one of all the disciples who denied his Master. 
It was therefore very appropriate that Christ should sin- 
gle him out from the rest, and remind him of his fonner 
professions of love, and ask of him a renewed declaration 
of attachment. It would seem that by repeating the ques- 
tion, " Lovest thou me," three times, our Savior intended 
to remind Peter of his three-fold denial of him, and thus 
humble while he fortified him. 

The readers of these pages may be surprised to learn 
that the Papists have nothing further to offer from the 
Bible in proof of what they so positively assert, that Pe- 
ter was constituted by Christ as his representative on the 
earth, and the head of all the Apostles. But so it is : and 
how poor and weak is the foundation they have for such 
an assertion ! Let us now examine some circumstances 
that go to show that Peter could not have held the 
office assigned to him. 

When the disciples came to Christ, Matt. 18 : 1, and 
asked him, " Who is gi-eatest in the kingdom of heaven V 
if our Savior had already constituted Peter his vicar upon 
earth, as the papists assert, why did he not reply, " Did 
you not understand me when I said to Peter, ' Upon this 
rock will I build my church,' and that he was to be chief 
among you, and the first iu my kingdom on the earth 1" 
And when James and John and their mother came to 
Jesus, Matt. 20 ; 20, 21, and Mark, 10 : 35-37, asking 
for the highest place or office in his kingdom — a place 
essentially the same with that which the papists declare 
Peter held, why did he not reply, *' The thing is impos- 
sible ; I have already given that place to another, even to 
Peter]" But instead of making such replies as these, 
which he certainly would have done if the supposition of 
the papists were true, his answer in both cases is directly 
the opposite of what they suppose, and entirely subver- 
sive of their notions on the subject. He attempts to show 
them, that among tJieiii there is to be no first and last, but 
a perfect equality. He put a child into the midst of them, 
Matt. 18 : 2, and said, " Whosoever shall humble him- 
self as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdo-ni 
of heaven r This rule of Christ requires something very 
different as a title to distinction in the kingdom of God, 
from that which the Pope of Rome claims. 



OF THE POPE. 7 

Still more opposed to the papal notion of Peter's su- 
premacy is the declaration of our Savior to his disciples, 
called forth by the absurd request of James and John, 
Matt. 20 : 25-27, " Ye know that the princes of the 
Gentiles exercise dominion over them, and they that are 
great exercise authority upon them. But it shall not be so 
among you. But whosoever will be great among you let 
him be your minister ; and whosoever will be chief among 
you, let him be your servant." It would seem as though 
our Savior had in view the high j^ower that Rome would 
assume ; and he uttered this to set the matter wholly at 
rest, and show how in all points the spirit and conduct of 
the church of Rome is at variance with the spirit and pre- 
cepts of the Gospel. 

There were princes and great men among the Gentiles 
who exercised authority over them ; and if Peter had been 
the prince or head of the Apostles, with all the authority 
over the consciences, the bodies and the souls of men that 
the Church of Rome assumes, surely our Savior never could 
have said, BiLt it shall 7iot be so among you. Never was 
there in this world, among any nation. Gentile or Jew, a 
more perfectly despotic authority than that assumed by 
the Church of Rome over the bodies and souls of be- 
lievers. And need any thing further be said to show that 
this is just the opposite of what Christ said should be 
among his disciples ! Among them there was no great 
and small, but all were on equality, and of course Peter 
was not their head. 

But this is evident further from their own conduct after 
the death and ascension of Christ. Peter himself never 
claimed any such supremacy as the Pope is so loud in 
doing now. In his own epistle he calls himself simply an 
apostle, a servant of Jesus Christ ; and in one place he 
says, I Pet. 5:1," the elders among you I exhort, who 
am also an elder.''^ How; different this mode of address 
from that employed by the Popes in issuing their bulls, 
in which they call themselves the Vicars _ of Christ; and 
they have permitted themselves to be addressed by many 
impious titles, such as. Master of the tuorlcl ; Judge in the 
'place of God ; Vicegerent of the Most High; Vice God; 
God on earth ; Lamb of God; Divine Majesty ; King of 
kings and Lord of lords, S^c. It is ti'ue they have some- 



8 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

times assumed very humble titles for special purposes, 
such as the servant of the servants of God, &c. but if 
others addressed them by these titles they were severely 
punished for the offence. Now if Peter had been consti- 
tuted by our Savior as his representative on the earth, 
and the chief among the Apostles, he would no doubt 
have alluded to it somewhere in his epistles, in order to 
secure the more attention and respect. But not a syllable 
can be found in any of his letters, or in any of his sayings 
recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, to show that he had 
any idea that he possessed such authority as the Church 
of Rome ascribes to him. 

If it be said that this may have arisen from his modesty 
and christian humility, I reply, that we should at least ex- 
pect to hear from the other apostles an acknowledgment 
of his superiority ; but nothing of the sort can be found 
in any of their writings. They neither address him by 
the titles of Vicai- of Christ, Head of the Church, or Uni- 
versal Bishop ; nor do they treat him any where with the 
deference due to such a rank. When our Savior was 
with them, we find them always calling him Lord and 
Master, and consulting him on all points of doubt in re- 
gard to faith and practice ; but never, in any instance, do 
they apply any title to Peter indicating his supremacy, 
nor do they, in regard to any christian doctrine or duty, 
consult him as though, when Christ was taken away from 
them, Peter was left as their head and the lawful repre- 
sentative of Christ on the earth. 

On the contrary, they always treat him as though he 
were an equal ; as in fact he really was. Paul says that he 
received his commission to preach, not fi'om man, but from 
the revelation of Jesus Christ. Gal. 1 : 12. He further 
says, that when Christ called him to preach the Gospel, 
he corf erred 7tot ivith Jlesh and blood; Gal. 1 : 16, " nei- 
ther went I," says he, "up to Jerusalem to them that 
were apostles before me," to receive my commission from 
them. And it was not until after he had been preaching 
three years, that he went to Jerusalem, where he found 
Peter and James, and abode with them fifteen days. 
Gal. 1 : 18. 

Now, if Peter had been the constituted head of the 
Church, and the Vicar of Christ, it certainly would have 



OF THE POPE. 9 

been Paul's duty to go directly to him, and receive his 
commission and instructions from him. But such was not 
the fact : and whatever might have been the subjects of 
conversation between Paul, and James, and Peter at this 
time, he informs us in the next chapter. Gal. 2 : 6, that 
he derived no additional advantage or authority as an 
apostle ffom his conferences with them. And he then 
goes on to narrate how he had " icitlistood Peter to the 
face, Gal. 2: 11, because he was to he blamed'' for dis- 
simulation. Surely this does not appear as though Paul 
regarded Peter as the Universal Bishop and the Vicar of 
Christ, and an infallible judge and oracle in matters of 
religion ! 

The same apostle, in writing to the Corinthians, 2 Cor. 
11 : 5, declares of himself, "For I suppose I was not be- 
hind the very chiefest apostle ;" which was a very strange 
and a very an-ogant speech for him to make, if Peter was 
the representative of Christ. What if one of the cardi- 
nals or other Bishops of Rome w^ere now to use such 
language in regard to the Pope, and say, "I consider 
myself as not inferior to the very highest in the church," 
would he not be immediately regarded as a rebel, and 
treated accordingly % 

It is as plain as possible that Paul did not acknow- 
ledge Peter's supremacy; but it may be asked, did not 
the other apostles and the church at large ] In Acts, 6, 
we have an account of the assembling of the church for 
the appointing of Deacons, where we should have ex- 
pected Peter to appear in his own proper authority had 
he been Universal Bishop. But he neither summoned 
the church together, nor did he appoint or ordain the 
Deacons. It is said, Acts, 6 : 2, that the twelve called the 
multitude of the disciples together, and enjoined it upon 
them to select the proper persons for them [the twelve) 
to ordain over this business. This is just what we should 
have expected, after having Christ's words to them al- 
ready quoted, concerning their perfect equality in office. 
See Matt. 20 : 25-27. 

In Acts, 15, we have an account of the first christian 
Council to settle a point of faith and practice. Nothing 
is said of Peter's having been consulted as the infallible 
oracle in such matters ; but the apostles, and elders, and 

VOL. XI. 18 



10 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

brethren came together to consider the matter. Peter 
seems to have taken no precedence in the matter at all. 
He neither summoned the meeting, nor did he decide 
the question, nor was he looked up to by the others as 
having any peculiar authority in such matters. He gave 
his opinion, and so did others ; and at last James gave 
his sentence, to which they all agi^eed, and " the apostles 
and elders, with the whole churcli^'^ sent chosen men to 
Antioch to carry the decision. Acts, 15 t 22. The no- 
tion that Peter was the head of the apostles and the Vicar 
of Christ does not seem to have entered the mind of any 
one of those present at this council. Surely, if it had 
been a council of the Pope, at which he was present, he 
would have been treated in a very different manner. 

Once more : in the 8th chapter of the Acts we learn 
that when Philip went down to the city of Samaria and 
preached Christ unto them, many believed ; and the news 
was caiTied to Jerusalem of all the wonders that were 
done there. " Now when the Apostles which were at 
Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of 
God they sent unto them Peter and John^ Acts, 8 : 14. 
Here Peter was actually commissioned by the apostles 
and sent forth by them on a certain business ; while the 
papists say that he was their head. Does the less send 
the greater, or the greater the less ] Our Savior himself 
has decided this question where he says, " Neither is he 
that is sent greater than he that sent him." John, 13 : 16. 
But Peter was not Qrci\^ sent by the other Apostles, but he 
was associated with John as his equal. They did not 
send Peter alone, but sent Peter and John with equal 
powers and equal authority. Who can believe after this 
that the Apostles regarded Peter as their head, or as any 
more the representative of Christ on the earth than they 
all were % And if neither Peter had any such notion of 
himself, nor the Apostles acknowledged him as having 
such power, it is clear that in fact no such power was 
evei conferred uj^on him. 

Let us now recapitulate the argument for the sake of 
perceiving its whole force. We have seen, 

1. That if Peter was in any sense made the rock or 
foundation upon which the church is built, all the other 



OF THE VOPE. 11 

Apostles were made foundations in precisely the same 
sense. 

2. That the keys, or the power to bind and to loose 
was given equally to all the Apostles. 

3. That Christ himself took special pains to eradicate 
all ambitious notions from the minds of his disciples, 
and taught them in the most explicit manner that no one 
of them was to be greatest, but that there was to be 
among them the most perfect equality. 

4. Peter never claimed any authority over his breth- 
ren, nor gave the least hint, either verbal or in his epis- 
tles, that he possessed such authority. 

5. His brother apostles never acknowledged a supre- 
macy in him, either by the use of titles addressed to him, 
or by referring important questions to him for decision. 

6. Peter took no precedency in ecclesiastical business, 
as in the electing and ordaining of the first deacons, or in 
the first council, where James' opinion was adopted ra- 
ther than Peter's. 

7. Paul congratulated himself that he was neither ap- 
pointed nor instructed by any of the other Apostles, Pe- 
ter of course included ; and he also claimed to be not a 
whit behind any of them. 

8. Peter, instead of appointing and commissioning 
others, was himself sent by the brethren into Samaria. 

9. Paul reproved Peter on a certain occasion, " be- 
cause he was to be blamed," and Peter received the 
admonition, so far as appears, without complaint. 

From all these proofs it is as evident as any matter of 
fact can well be made, that Peter was never constituted 
headqf the Apostles. 

But even on the supposition that this could not be 
proved; or in other words, supposing, for the sake of the 
argument, that it could be clearly shown that Christ did 
make a distinction among his Apostles, and that he did 
leave with Peter extraordinary powers as his representa- 
tive, still it cannot he shown that the Pope of Rome is 
the lawful successor of Peter and the sole heir to all his 
powers and privileges. Why should the Bishop of Rome 
have any peculiar claim to this honor of being the suc- 
cessor to Peter, any more than the Bishop of Jerusalem, 



12 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

Antioch, or Ephesus? It cannot be proved from the 
Bible even that Peter was ever actually in Rome ; and 
although Eusebius and Origen, and some other historians 
do declare that he w^as, yet their report was made some 
hundred years afterwards, and rested on mere tradition, 
and does not agi'ee either with itself or with the account 
we have in the New Testament. 

Eusebius says that Peter was in Rome during the reign 
of Claudius. Hierom says that he sat there twenty-five 
years, until the last of Nero ; and as Nero reigned only 
fourteen years, he must have come there during the se- 
cond or third year of Claudius, who preceded Nero. Da- 
masus says that he came there in the beginning of Nero's 
reign and sat twenty-five years, and that his disputation 
with Simon Magus was in the presence of Nero ; whereas 
Eusebius reports it to have been under Claudius, Nero's 
predecessor. Thus we see that these witnesses do not 
agree among themselves : and the fact is, they report 
merely what they had heard, not what they found written 
in the New Testament or any other book, and it must 
also be borne in mind that none of them WTOte earlier than 
the fourth century. 

These stories had passed from mouth to mouth through 
a period of from two to three hundred years, reckoning 
from the time of the death of the oldest apostle, before 
these historians recorded them, and we all know how ex- 
ceedingly uncertain are flying verbal reports. And yet 
upon such uncertain reports is founded the belief that 
Peter was Bishop of Rome ; and upon such gi'ounds, 
weakened by such conflicting testimony, does the Pope of 
Rome rest his claim of being the successor of Peter, and 
the head of the church — not upon the sure and unfailing 
word of God, and not even upon the testimony of men 
living at or near the time when the appointment he claims 
was made ; but upon a mere floating rumor that, after the 
lapse of more than two centuries, was recorded for the 
first time as an historic truth. 

The case stands thus : The Pope claims to be the suc- 
cessor of Peter. We call upon him for his credentials. 
We ask him to show us where and when he received his 
appointment. He is not able to bring one particle of tes- 
timony from the Scriptures on the subject. He cannot 



OF THE POPE. 13 

point us to a single verse that gives the slightest counte- 
nance to such a claim. But he refers us to a vague and 
self-contradictory rumor, unrecorded by any historian until 
more than two hundred years after the events are said to 
have taken place, to show that Peter was once in Rome ! 
And on the strength of this we are called upon to submit, 
with all humility, and yield the most implicit obedience to 
the present Roman pontiff, as to the head of" the church 
and representative of Christ on the earth ! I know not 
what others may think, but my mind fails to be convinced 
by such testimony, and I cannot conscientiously yield my 
assent to so high a claim on such slight grounds. The 
Pope, therefore, must excuse me from acknowledging his 
supreme authority until he has presented me with better 
arguments than these. 

Besides, the notion that Peter was in Rome twenty-five 
years seems to be inconsistent with the Scriptures. Had 
he been Bishop there for this length of time, he must have 
been there when Paul was there a prisoner, or at least 
when Paul wrote his epistle to the Romans. Yet P^-ul, 
neither in his epistle to the believers in Rome, nor in the 
epistles he wrote from there, makes any allusion whatever 
to Peter as being there. Can we believe that this would 
have been the case if Peter had actually been there, and 
especially if he had been Bishop of Rome, and Christ's 
representative in the world, and head over all the church ] 
Would he send his christian salutations to nearly thirty 
different persons, and forget to say one word about Peter 
in his whole epistle % And in writing from Rome — as 
Paul did several of his epistles — would he be likely to 
send salutations from others who were with him, and 
never, in any instance, send Peter's salutations to any 
body, if Peter had been there also % The thing is incredi- 
ble ; and the most natural conclusion to which every un- 
biassed mind would come, is, that Peter was not in Rome 
either while Paul was there, or at the time when he wrote 
his epistle to the Romans. But Paul was in Rome under 
Nero's reign ; and according to the historians on whom 
papists rely, Peter was there also until the last year of 
Nero's reign : so that they must, if this testimony is 
true, have both been there at the same time — which 
is incredible. 

VOL. XI. 18*^ 



14 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

But if it can be proved to any one's satisfaction that 
Peter was ever at Rome, still it remains to be proved that 
he was Bishop of Rmne any more than he was Bishop of 
Antioch, or Bishop of Jerusalem. We have proof enough 
from the Scriptures that Peter preached both in Jerusalem 
and Antioch ; while we have no such proof that he ever 
preached in Rome, or that he was ever there. Why not 
call him first Bishop of Antioch, or of Jerusalem ; and if 
he was to have successors, why not seek for them in those 
cities where we know from the infallible word of God that 
he lived and labored, rather than trust to a vague verbal 
report on the subject, which is inconsistent with Scripture 
testimony, and unsupported by any written documents of 
whatever kind but such as were written hundreds of years 
afterwards ? 

And even if it could be proved in the clearest and most 
satisfactory manner that Peter was Bishop of Rome, which 
it certainly cannot, it would still remain to be proved that 
he had supremacy over all other Bishops, and that he de- 
legated his authority to the Roman Popes. 

In point of fact, the title of Universal BisJiop was never 
claimed by the Roman pontiff until the year 606, when 
Boniface III. Bishop of Rome, prevailed upon the Em- 
peror Phocas, who was a murderer and an usurper, to con- 
fer the title upon him. (Anastasius de Vitis Pontif ch. 
67, and Gotfridus Viterbrensis Panth. Pass. 16.) The dis- 
tinction among Bishops in the church of Christ, by which 
one took the precedence of others, had a very gradual 
rise. In the second century there was a perfect equality, 
so far as appears from authentic records. 

In the third century the Bishops of Rome, Antioch and 
Alexandria were regarded as having a sort of precedency 
over all others, and of these three, that of Rome was con- 
sidered by some as having the primacy, and by others not. 
This peculiar honor conceded by some foreign Bishops to 
Rome arose very naturally from the circumstance that the 
city of Rome was the capital of the empire, and the Coun- 
cil of Calcedon so accounted for it. No one of these, 
however, claimed any power over the others ; and those 
fathers of this century, such as Cyprian and others, who 
allowed the Bishop of Rome a certain primacy, strenu- 
ously contended for the equality of all Bishops in dignity 



OF THE POPE. 15 

and authority, and they did not hesitate to controvert the 
judgment of the Bishop of Rome, whenever his opinion 
differed from theirs. Of this we have a notable example 
in the famous controversy between Cyprian, Bishop of 
Carthage, and Stephen, Bishop of Rome, concerning the 
baptism of heretics. Were any bishop now thus to address 
the Roman Pontiff, he would be branded and treated as a 
rebel and a heretic. But the powers assumed now by the 
Pope of Rome were unknown in the third century. 

The same distinguished Father (Cyprian) in writing to 
Pompey, Epistle 74, about Bishop Stephen, exclaims, 
" What obstinacy, or rather presumption, is that which 
prefers human traditions to Divine institution, as saith 
Isaiah, ' In vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrine 
the commandments of men!' What blindness of soul, 
what depravity is that which will not acknowledge the 
unity of the faith!" 

Firmulianus, Bishop of Cassarea, writing to Cyprian 
on the same subject, says, Epistle 75, " In this particular 
I am justly indignant at the folly of Stephen, which is so 
open and manifest, that he, who so much vaunts himself on 
ike locality of his cpiscopate,^^ " who makes such a parade 
of having, by succession, the see of Peter, manifests no 
zeal against heretics." And subsequently he adds, "And 
Stephen has no shame in saying that remission of sins 
may be given by those living in sin. And dost not thou 
(O Stephen) fear the judgment of God, in bearing testi- 
mony in favor of heretics against the church, since it is 
written, ' a false witness shall not be unpunished !' Nay, 
thou art worse than all heretics." Now if, as the papists 
say, the Pope of Rome has from the beginning been re- 
ceived as the Vicar of Christ and the visible head of the 
church, Cyprian and Firmulianus must both have known 
it, and if so, how could they have written as they did 
against Stephen, then Bishop of Rome % 

In the fourth century, Constantinople having been made 
the seat of the civil power by Constantino the Great, the 
Bishop of Constantinople was joined with the three others 
before mentioned ; and thenceforward the four Bishops of 
Rome, Antioch, Alexandria and Constantinople, were 
styled Patriarchs, and nobody pretended or supposed that 
either one had any authority over the others. 



16 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

During this century the first Council of Nice was as- 
sembled, which is considered as one of the most import- 
ant councils of the church. At this council, Sylvester, 
Bishop of Rome, was not present ; nor does it appear 
that he had any thing to do with it, except that when 
Constantine sent to him the decree of the council, con- 
firmed by himself, Sylvester called a Council at Rome of 
two hundred and sixty-seven bishops, who declared their 
readiness to conform to these decrees. A similar council, 
convened at Grenada in Spain, in like manner assented to 
the doings of the Nicene Council. 

Constantine himself was the president of the Council of 
Nice, and he alone confirmed the decrees and acts of it, 
and issued his imperial letter, enjoining upon all the 
churches obedience to the decrees of that council. It 
would seem clear from all this that the Bishop of Rome 
had not at that time laid claim to universal and supreme 
authority over the Catholic Church. Should any christian 
emperor now assume power like that exercised by Con- 
stantine, he would speedily be stigmatized as a traitor 
against the mother church as it is called, and as having 
encroached largely upon the prerogatives of the Pope of 
Rome. 

One thing more is deserving of our notice in regard to 
the Council of Nice, and that is, that the sixth canon de- 
creed by that Council makes the Bishops of Rome, Al- 
exandria, and Antioch equal in all respects, and gives 
to each the same, fre-emincnce over their surrounding 
Bishops. This will convince any unbiassed mind that at 
that age there was no Universal Bishoj), and of course the 
bishop of Rome was not Universal Bishop, as he now 
claims to be. The Council of Nice then claimed to be 
the representative of the true Catholic or Universal 
Church, and its decrees were so worded ; and this claim 
has never been disputed by the papists themselves, but 
always, from that time to this, assented to and acknow- 
ledged. 

It is true that Pope Zazimus of Rome, in the year 417, 
attempted to usurp authority over the churches of Africa, 
producing a pretended canon from the Council of Nice, 
conferring on him such authority. But his brethren, the 
Bishops, denied the existence of any such canon, and 



OF THE POPE. 17 

proved the forgery upon him, by procuring from each of 
the three eastern patriarchs authentic copies of the canons 
of that Council. They wrote him at the same time a letter 
of information and reproof, and enacted a law that no con- 
tending parties in their (African) church should, after that, 
go for advice and a settlement of difficulties " beyond the 
seas," i. e. to Rome. See Theodoret, Hist, book 1, chap. 
8, and Gelasius, book 2, § 21, also the testimony of the 
4th Gen. Council. 

In the year 451, the Council of Chalcedon, by their 
28th canon, decreed that the Bishop of Constantinople 
ought to enjoy the same honors and prerogatives with the 
Bishop of Rome ; and from this time there began a fierce 
contention between the two Bishops for supremacy. The 
Bishop of Constantinople at length assumed the title of 
Universal Bishop ; and in the sixth century a Council of 
eastern Bishops, as well as the emperor himself, conceded 
the title to him. At this Gregory the Great, then Bishop 
of Rome, was very much enraged, because he considered 
himself fully equal in rank to the Bishop of Constanti- 
nople ; and also the title itself of Universal Bishop, anti- 
christiun and impious. He therefore wi'ote letters to the 
emperor and empress ; and also to his brother bishop, to 
prevent him from assuming the proud, j)rofane and anti- 
christian title of Universal Bishop ! 

" I boldly declare," said Gregory to the emperor, 
Epistle 30, Book 4, " that whoever calls himself Uni- 
versal Bishop, or even wishes to be so called, is, in his 
pride, the forerunner of Jlntichrist, since in his ambition 
he sets himself before others." 

"■ Whom do you imitate," wrote Gregory to the bishop, 
** in assuming that arrogant title ] Whom but him (the 
devil) who, swelled with pride, exalting himself above so 
many legions of angels, his equals, that he might be sub- 
ject to none, and all might be subject to him ]" And 
afterwards he says, " If none of the Apostles would be 
called Universal, what will you answer on the last day to 
Christ, the head of the Church universal — you who, by 
arrogating that name, strive to subject all his members to 
yourself?" 

It will be seen from these extracts from Gregory's 
own letters, that, instead of claiming to himself what the 



18 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

Popes now claim, the headship of the church, he used 
the strongest epithets in condemnation of the notion that 
there is any Universal Bishop or head of the Church but 
Christ. 

Gregory afterwards wrote letters on the subject to 
some of the greatest Bishops of the East ; and the Bishop 
of Alexandria, in reply, addressed Gregory as Utiiversal 
Bishojj, which title he spurned with great indignation : 
*' If," said he, " you give more to me than is due to me, 
you rob youi'self of what is due to you. I choose to be dis- 
tinguished by my manners, not by titles. Nothing can re- 
dound to my honor that redounds to the dishonor of my 
brethren. I place my honor in maintaining them in theirs. 
If you call me Universal Pope, you thereby own yourself 
to be no Pope. Let no such title, therefore, be mentioned 
or ever heard of among us. Your holiness says in your 
letter that I commanded you — / command you ! I know 
who you are, and who I am : In rank you are my brother, 
in manners my father. I therefore did not command, and 
beg that you will henceforth ever forbear the word." — See 
Lives of the Popes. Baronius Annales ad ann. 606. No, 2. 
Anastasius de Vitis Pontificum. Paulus Diaconus, &:c. 

No modern Pope ever used such language in a letter 
to one of his Bishops ; and the fact is as clear as the sun 
at noon-day, that Gregory the Great never laid claim to 
the power which the papists say all the Popes of Rome 
have, and have had since the days of Peter. 

This title of Universal Bishop, so repudiated by Gre- 
gory as vain, proud, impious, an ti- christian and diabolical, 
was, three years after Gregory's death, claimed by Boni 
face III. Bishop of Rome, and conferred on him by the 
Emperor Phocas ! And it has been claimed and borne by 
all the popes from that day to this ! 

Thus we have seen from history how that, in the early 
ages of the church, the Bishop of Rome had no suprema- 
cy over his brethren. He neither claimed for himself, noi 
did others yield to him any distinction in this respect : and 
even in the sixth century, Gregory the Great spurned the 
title of Universal Bishop, saying that whosoever should 
assume this title Avould be the forerunner of Antichrist, 
though it was immediately after conferred upon his suc- 
cessor. Let it then be distinctly understood as an historic 



OF THE POPE. 19 

fact, that Boniface 3d, in the year 606, was the first Bishop 
of Rome who claimed to be Universal Bishop ! What 
then becomes of the succession from St. Peter, and the 
high claims resting thereupon ? 

In the present age, and for many centuries, it has been 
proudly and impiously pretended by the Papists that 
there is no salvation out of the Church of Rome. Greeks, 
Armenians, and all others who ^^dll not yield obedience 
to the Roman power, are consigned to one common de- 
struction. Listen to Pope Boniface the Sth, Avho says, 
" We declare, afiinn and decree; that it is absolutely es- 
sential to the salvation of every human heing, to submit to 
the Roman Pontif." De Major, et obed. lib. 1. Listen 
also to the bull of Pope Urban Sth, in A. D. 1627, and 
signed by him and thirty-eicjht cardinals against heretics : 
" We excommunicate and anathematise on the part of 
Almighty God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, by the au- 
thority also of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and by 
our own authority, the Hussites, Wickliflites, Lutherans, 
Calvinists, &c. and the apostates from the christian faith, 
and all other heretics, of whatever name and of whatso- 
ever sect; we excommunicate those that believe in them, 
and those who receive and encourage them, in one word, 
those who defend them, and those who without our au- 
thority and that of the Apostolic See, read or presei-^-e, or 
print the books containing their heresies, or ti-eating of 
religion, who defend them publicly or privately, in what- 
ever manner or imder whatever pretext ; and also we ex- 
communicate and anathematise those who obstinately re- 
fuse obedience to us, and who refuse obedience to the 
Roman Pontiff, for the time being." Magnum Bullarum, 
Rom. Tom. 4th, p. 118. But whence does the Pope of 
Rome derive this general anathematizing power ? Did 
any such power exist in Rome in the time of the Apos- 
tles, and was there then any such condition of salvation ] 
The papal emissaries when they now go abroad to preach, 
make this the first and last subject of theii' addresses. 
" You must," say they to all people, " you must come 
into the bosom of the Church of B.ome. L'nless you yield 
submissively to the Pope of Rome, eternal perdition will 
be your inevitable doom." But were such the tenns of 
the*Gospel published abroad by the Apostles and early 



20 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

missionaries ? If the inhabitants of Jerusalem, of Antioch, 
of Damascus, must belong to the Church of Rome noio in 
order to be saved, the same must have been true then. 

And is it not strange that the Apostles and evangelists 
who preached in Judea, always maintained a profound 
silence in regard to this indispensable requisite for salva- 
tion 1 In telling men how to be saved, they never once 
alluded to the subject of obedience to the Pope or Bishop 
of Rome. At that early age, when the church was in its 
purity, and men were directed in the right way of salva- 
tion by inspired Apostles and preachers, simple repent- 
ance towards God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ 
were all that were required of any one in order to be 
saved. See Acts, 2 : 38 ; 3 : 19 ; 17 : 30 ; 20 : 21 ; 26 : 
20 ; Rev. 2:5; Acts, 8 : 37 ; 13 : 39 ; 16 : 31 ; Rom. 10 : 
9 ; 1 Cor. 1 : 21, &c. No one was instructed to yield obe- 
dience to the Bishop of Rome in order to be saved ; al- 
though, according to the papists, Peter himself was at 
that time Bishop of Rome. 

There is only one way of explaining the silence of the 
Apostles on this subject, and that is by stating the simple 
fact, that the papal power of Home ivas not then in existence. 
The Apostles and their followers thought it was sufficient 
to receive the Lord Jesus Christ by faith, and yield obe- 
dience to him as the gi'eat Head of the church : and they 
were fully content with the title Christ gave them to hea- 
ven, on the condition of faith and repentance, without go- 
ing to the Roman Bishop, or to any other power on earth, 
spiritual or temporal, for a passport to the world above. 
And I would direct my own heart, and earnestly exhort 
all others to do the same. 

Follow the directions of the Apostles on the subject, 
and you cannot go \VTong. Comply with the simple terms 
of faith and repentance, and you have Christ's word for it 
that you shall be saved. " It is God that justifieth — who 
is he that condemneth '?" It has been clearly showai that 
the claim of the Pope of Rome to be the Head of the 
Church and the Universal Bishop is altogether unfounded 
in ti'uth. It therefore follows that the assertion, that there 
is no salvation out of the Church of Rome, is unfounded. 
Let none, therefore, be temfied by the vain threats and 
anathemas of the Pope of Rome. At the judgment-seat 



OF THE PUPE. 21 

we shall not be asked whether we have been obedient to 
Rome, but whether we have been obedient to Christ. He 
is our Head ; to him we are responsible ; and in him we 
confide : and we know that if we live by faith in him, no 
power in the universe can ever separate us from him. 

But if it still be said that the Pope of Rome is the vicar 
of Christ on the earth, and that therefore it is the bounden 
duty of every man to yield implicit obedience to him ; I 
answer, that if this be so, then he must be infallible, other- 
wise I can never tell whether it is safe to obey him or not. 
But is he infallible ] Some pretend that he is, but what 
proof do they show of it 1 1 hey refer to the keys given 
to Peter, and the declaration, " Whatsoever ye shall 
bind," &c. But we have seen that this promise was ad- 
dressed to all the apostles equally, and even if the Pope 
could clearly show that all the powers of Peter belong to 
him, (which he cannot) still he could not thereby establish 
his absurd claim to infallibility and supremacy in the 
church. They refer to the declaration, " If he shall ne- 
glect to hear the church, let him be to thee as a heathen 
man and a publican." But the supporters of the Poj^e have 
a great deal of ground to travel over yet before they can 
arrive at the demonstration that the Pope is that church. 
Where then is the proof of the Pope's infallibility and my 
duty to obey him % Paul the apostle exhorted the Corin- 
thian christians, 1 Cor. 11:1, to be followers of him even 
as he icas of Christ. We will also follow the Pope just so 
far as he follows Christ, and no farther. But what evi- 
dence does the history of past ages bring to us that the 
Pope does actually follow Chiist, and that we may there- 
fore safely follow him % What do papal historians them.- 
selves tell us of the character of some of their Pojjes? In 
the history of the General Councils, published hy autho- 
rity of the Pope, at Malines, in 1826, we are informed that 
at the sixth General Council, which was held at Constan- 
tinople, A. D. 681, the Roman Pope Honorius was anathe- 
matized as a heretic; Actes, 16, p. 1009. And Pope Le- 
on 2d confirmed this sentence, saying that this same Pope 
Honorius had " strengthened himself with a perfidious 
impiety to destroy the immaculate faith." Actes, p. 1117. 

At the 16th General Roman Council, held at Constance, 
A. D. 1414, Pope John 23d is condemned " for fornica- 

VOL. XI. 19 



22 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

tion, adultery and incest, and other crimes of inconti- 
nence." He is found guilty of incest with his brother's 
wife. He is also declared by the same Council to have 
been notoriously guilty of murder, of poisoning, and of 
other enormous crimes, and also of simony and heresy. 
He is said to have publicly declared, " by the inspiration 
of the devil," that there is no such thing as eternal life, 
and in fact no life beyond the present, but that the soul 
of man dies with the body. Const. Cone. QEcum. torn. 12, 
p. 84, 86. 

Furthermore, the General Council at Basil, a. d. 1431, 
decreed and declared that Pope Eugene 4th " was and 
is disobedient to the commands of the universal church ; 
a notorious disturber of the peace and unity of the church 
of God ; that he is simoniacal, perjured, incorrigible, schis- 
matic, having departed from the faith, and heretical in 
opinion." Sess. 24, p. 620. 

Stella, a Roman Catholic priest, informs us that Pope 
Marcellinus sacrificed to idols ; that Pope Libinus and 
Pope Felix were Arians, and that Pope Anastasius 2d 
was deposed for heresy. Stella de Vita et Moribus Pontif. 
Rom. p. 280. 

Sigonius says that Pope John 15th, alias Boniface, hav- 
ing killed two Popes, usurped the popedom by violence 
and money, and Baronius calls him " a thief and robber, 
and one who had not a hair of the head of a true Bishop." 
Baronius publicly declares that for one hundred and fifty 
years together the popes were rather apostates than apos- 
tles, and that they were thrust into the papal chair by the 
power of harlots and the violence of princes. Annals of 
Baronius, a. d. 827. And under date of the year 912, he 
writes thus : "At this period the most powerful and the 
most filthy prostitutes reigned at Rome, by whose will 
sees were changed and bishoprics were given away, and 
their lovers, false popes, were thrust violently into Peter's 
chair." Sec. 12. 

But I refrain from further detail of these disgusting 
facts, which nothing but a desire to see the truth fully 
established against unblushing error would have induced 
me thus to spread out upon these pages. It must be 
remarked that the statements here made of the character 
of these different popes are not from enemies, but from 



OF THE POPE. 23 

friends of the papal cliurcli ; they are not the misrepre- 
sentations of protestants, but the testimony of Roman 
Catholic writers universally received among them, and 
the doings of Councils of the Roman Church. 

And shall I commit my eternal salvation to a Pope 
such as just described 1 Shall I swear eternal allegiance 
to a frail and erring creature, and promise to believe 
whatever he fells me to believe, and do whatever he 
tells me to do ] Shall I go to those who may be, as some 
have been in times past, murderers, whoremongers, rob- 
bers and heretics, to learn the way of salvation 1 And will 
any one persuade me that unless I do so, my salvation is 
impossible 1 The names of several of these wicked popes 
are still published by the papal church in their list of in- 
fallible popes, whom every man in this world is bound 
to obey on pain of eternal death ! Let them come out 
honestly and disclaim all connection with such wicked 
men ; let them declare, in other words, that popes are 
fallible, both in doctrine and life, and therefore not to be 
followed, and to be obeyed only so far as they follow 
Christ, and a great step will at once be taken towards 
settling the question as to the true standing and claims of 
the Roman Church. 

Nor can papacy find relief by saying that we are to re- 
fer to the decisions of Councils sanctioned hy the Pope. 
for our infallible guide in matters of faith. For, in the first 
place, the sanction of such popes as those whose character 
is described above, would be not only of no value, but 
would throw suspicion on the decision of any council to 
which it might be attached. And in the second place, we 
have repeated examples of councils reversing the deci- 
sions of councils, as well as of popes anathematizing 
popes. For instance, the Council of Constance, a. d 1414, 
already alluded to, decreed that the Pope himself ought 
to submit to the decisions of a General Council of the 
Church. Const. Cone. CEcum. Tom. 12, Less. 5, p. 22. 
And Pope Martin 5th sanctioned the doings of this Coun- 
cil. Less. 45, p. 258. This decision was confirmed by the 
General Council at Basil, a. d. 1431. Less. 2, p. 477 ; but 
directly reversed by the General Council of Florence, a. d. 
1438, which says, '' We condemn and reject, and we de- 
clare condemned and rejected the above decree." 



24 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

It is true that there is a difference of opinion among 
Roman CathoHcs in regard to the vaHdity of the Councils 
of Constance and Basil above mentioned, and they are 
not included in the list of General Councils set up in the 
Vatican by order of Pope Sextus 5th ; but fliis only con- 
firms what we have affirmed of the fallibility both of popes 
and councils, for the doings of the Council of Constance 
were approved and confirmed by Pope Manin 5th ; Less. 
45, p. 258 ; and those of the Council of Basil by Po]:>e 
Eugene 4th. Less. 16, p. 528. 

Again, at a General Council composed of 388 Bishops, 
assembled at Constantinople, a. d. 754, the use of images 
in churches and places of worship was condemned, and all 
worship of images was declared to be contrary to Scrip- 
ture, and idolatry. Harduin. Concilia. Tom. 4, p. 325-444. 
At the Council of Nice, a. d. 786, at which about 350 
Bishops were assembled, the decrees of the above Coun- 
cil of Constantinople were abrogated, and the worship of 
images, and of the cross, were established. Harduin. 
Cone. Tom 4, p. 1, 820. In the year 794, Charlemagne 
assembled a Council of 300 Bishops at Frankfort, from 
Germany, France, Spain and Italy, at which delegates 
from the Pope of Rome were also present, and at that 
Council all worship of images was strictly forbidden; the 
decisions of the Council of Nice being entirely disapprov- 
ed. Harduin Cone. Tom 4, p. 904. 

We have a notable example of pope anathematizing 
pope, and council anathematizing council in the latter 
part of the 14th century. When Pope Gregory 11th died, 
in the year 1378, the boasted unity of the Latin church 
came to an end, and two popes were elected, one located 
at Rome, and the other at Avignon in France, whither 
the papal See had been removed in the year 1305. Dur- 
ing the space of fifty years from the death of Gregory the 
Romish Church had two and sometimes three heads, each 
hostile to the other. Various efforts were made to heal 
the breach but in vain, when, at length, in the year 1409, 
a council of the whole church was appointed to be held 
at Pisa, in Italy. The Council condemned each of the two 
existing popes, calling them heretical, perjured, obstinate 
and unworthy of any honors, and excommunicated them 
from the church, and in the place of them created Peter 



OF THE rOi'E. 25 

de Caiidia sovereign pontiff, under the name of* Alex- 
ander 5th. Jac. Lenfant Hist. Cone. Pisa, and Franc. 
Pagi Buorarium Pontiff, Rom. Tom 4, p. ooO. The two 
excommunicated popes, however, spurned the decree of 
this Council, and one assembled a Council to uphold him 
at Perpignan, and the other at Cividad di Frioul ; and 
thus the Roman Church was governed by three rival 
popes, each one with his separate council, anathematiz- 
ing and excommunicating the other ! Lenfant Hist. Cone. 
Pisa, Tom. 1, p. 295. Which of these three popes was 
the infallible head of the church, and which of them were 
all the faithful bound to obey 1 Or will it be said that, for 
more than fifty years, there was no true pope, and that 
thus the chain of apostolical succession was broken, and 
the Church of Christ was, for the whole of that time, with- 
out a visible head on the earth, which the papists deem 
so essential to the existence of a church ? The facts can- 
not be denied, and whatever explanations the papists 
may see fit to give of them, still it will remain true that 
the papal notion of an infallible church, with an infallible 
visible head, must fall to the gi'ound. 

Another remarkable feature of the Roman Church is, 

that it PROHIBITS THE SACRED ScRIPTURES FROBI THE COMMON 

PEOPLE ; and this, too, is one of the clearest evidences 
against it. All that the Lord Jesus Christ said and did was 
in the open light of day. He declared himself to be the light 
of the world ; and he also declared that it is only the work- 
ers of evil that love dai'kness rather than light. The papists 
have always been exceedingly careful to withhold from 
the common people the wi'itten word of God ; and one 
can hardly avoid the suspicion that they have some fears 
lest all their high claims may not be found supported in 
the Bible, and therefore to prevent trouble, they say to 
the people at large, in regard to the Bible, " Touch not, 
taste not, handle not'' That they have good reasons for 
such fears is evident from the preceding pages, in which 
it has been shown that the Bible and the Pope do not at 
all agree. 

But does the Church of Rome withhold the word of 
God from the common people ] I would do her no injus- 
tice. I would not willingly misrepresent her in one par- 
VOL. XI. 19* 



26 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

ticular. I will therefore let her speak in her own lan- 
guage on the subject. 

In the 16th century was held the papal Council of 
Trent. The Pope of Rome was not present in person ; 
but his representatives were there, and it is well known 
that his influence Avas predominant. The decrees of that 
Council were sanctioned by him, and have never been 
revoked. Amons^ those decrees we have the folio wino- : 

" Seeing that it is manifest by experience that if the 
Holy l^ible be permitted to be read every where, with- 
out discrimination, in the vulgar tongue, more harm than 
good results thence through the rashness of men : let it 
therefore be at the pleasure of the Bishop or Inquisitor, 
with the advice of the parish- clerk or confessor, to grant 
the reading of the Bible, translated by Catholic authors, 
to those who, in their opinion, will thereby receive an in- 
crease of faith and piety. This license let them have in 
writing ; and whoever shall presume without permission 
to read or possess such Bibles, may not receive the abso- 
lution of his sins till he has returned them to the ordina- 
ry." On Prohibited Books, Rule 4. 

This rule, it will be seen, effectually prevents the 
great mass of the people from reading the word of God. 
It is true, a provision is made for those who j^rocure 
a written license to read it ; but this amounts to nothing, 
for after all it depends wholly on the will of the clergy to 
grant such pennission, and the difficulties in the way ot 
procuring it are so gi'eat as to amount almost to an abso- 
lute impossibility. Few indeed would venture to ask, and 
still fewer would ever obtain the requisite permission. 

Since this decision of the Council of Trent Popes and 
Bishops, with threats of heavy anathemas, have repeatedly 
forbidden the Holy Scriptures to the common people in 
a language which they could understand. And in this they 
often make no distinction between translatioiis made by 
papists and by others. Many cases can be produced in 
which they have prohibited the common people fi-om read- 
ing translations of the Bible made by papists and apjiroved 
by bishops of their own church, and they have even cast 
such into the flames. Yes, rather than permit the people 
to read the Bible in intelligible language, they have cast 
it into the fire ! Who can measure the daring impiety of 



OF THE POPE. 27 

the man who burns up that word of God which he has 
given for the salvation of man ! And what has any council 
of men, or any Pope to do with dictating how and by 
whom the Bible shall be read 1 The Bible is the word of 
God addressed to man. In it God speaks to every man 
living on concerns of the utmost consequence. The Pope 
of Rome permits a few who are duly authorized by his 
clergy to hear God when he speaks ! That is, he permits 
God to speak to a few of his creatures ; but as to the rest, 
he has decreed that God shall not speak to them at all ! 
This is a plain statement of the truth, and yet it is almost 
too impious to be recorded. Who is it that dares thus to 
dictate to the God of heaven, and infomi him to whom he 
may speak and to whom he may not ! 

But it is said that experience has decided that if the 
Holy Scriptures are permitted to be read every where 
without discrimination, more evil than good results there- 
from : That is to say, the Pope and the Council of Trent 
have ascertained that God has published a book in the 
world expressly for the best interests of his creatures, 
w^hich it is found by experiment, if generally read, is cal- 
culated to do more hurt than good ! There are men who 
make themselves wiser than God, but their wisdom shall 
come to naught. 

If any one needs an explanation of the true meaning 
of the fathers of Trent in this extraordinary declaration, it 
is readily at hand : The general reading of the Scrip- 
tures in the vulgar tongue was found by their experience 
to be greatly prejudicial to the jmpal church ! This effect 
has always followed a similar cause. Let a man read the 
Bible intelligently, and his eyes will soon be open to see 
how unfounded and false are the claims of the Romish 
church, and how far she has departed from the truth. Of 
course it is very injurious to the interests of Rome to have 
the Scriptures read and understood by the people at large, 
and therefore the prohibition. 

An illustration of this we have in the fact, that when- 
ever the papal church puts forth in any book, in the vulgar 
tongue, the ten commandments, as she does oftentimes in 
catechisms, &c. the second commandment, against the 
making and w^orshipping of images, is almost uniformly 
suppressed, and the tenth is divided into two, in order to 



28 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

make the number good. The second commandment is as 
follows, " Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven 
image or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, 
or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters un- 
der the earth ; thou shalt not bow down thyself to them 
nor serve them." Ex. 20 : 4, 5. Now, why is the word 
of God thus mutilated, and one of the ten commandments 
entirely withheld from the knowledge of the common peo- 
ple, and its place supplied by what must appear to every 
candid man as a most obvious deception ] The answer is 
plain. The Papal Church fears to make the common peo- 
ple acquainted with so plain a prohibition of her own 
practices in the use of images, as is contained in the se- 
cond commandment, and therefore, in books in the vulgar 
tongue, designed for the use of the common people, this 
commandment is suppressed. For precisely similar rea- 
sons the whole word of God is withheld from the laity. 

It is pretended that the Scriptures are designed chiefly 
for the clergy and teachers of the church, and are to be 
read by them only, and by them to be explained to the 
people. Whereas nothing is plainer than that God de- 
signed the Scriptures for popular use. The discourses of 
our Savior were in general addressed in simple language 
to the people around him ; and now that those discourses 
are written down for preservation, is their character so 
entirely changed that they are not adapted to the same 
class of men as those to whom they were first addressed 1 
Were they perfectly safe then for the use of the common 
people, and are they very injurious now 1 

The epistles were addressed, not to the bishops and 
clergy, (with the exception of those to Timothy and Ti- 
tus,) but to the whole body of the people. They were 
written in a popular form and evidently for popular use. 
If any one will take the trouble to look at the beginning 
of each apostolic epistle, he will see that not one was 
addressed to the clergy, except the two above mention- 
ed ; but they were written to all the saints and servants 
of God ; and Peter addresses his to the strangers scat- 
tered through five provinces of Asia. Paul's epistles 
commence in this manner : " To all that be in Rome, be- 
loved of God, called to be saints." Rom. 1:7. " Unto the 
church of God which is at Corinth, and them that are 



OF THE POPE. 29 

sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all 
that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ 
our Lord." 1 Cor. 1:2. " To the saints which are at 
Ephesus, and the faithful in Christ Jesus," Eph. 1 : 1. 
The apostle John says, " I wi-ite unto you, fathers ; I 
write unto you, young men ; I write unto you, little chil- 
dren," 1 John, 2:13; which means that he wi'ote to all 
classes of men ; and contains a plain implication that his 
communications were adapted to the capacity of all, even 
of young men and little children. Nothing then can be 
plainer than that the epistles were designed originally for 
popular use. If it was safe to commit them into the hands 
of the common people then, why is it not safe now 1 The 
written word itself \& the interpretation made by Christ and 
his inspired servants of the way of salvation, addressed 
and adapted to the people at large. 

We do not assert that there are no difficulties in under- 
standing the word of God. Difference in language, and in 
manners and customs, renders some portions of the Scrip- 
tures obscure to us, which were, no doubt, clear to those 
to whom they were first addressed. But every thing per- 
taining to the way of salvation is plain. And if any man 
or body of men claim to be the sole, appointed interpre- 
ters of the Bible for us, we call upon them to show us the 
testimonials of their having received such an appoint- 
ment, and we will believe them. If not, we choose to 
search the Scriptures for ourselves ; and taking for our 
encouragement the promise in James, 1:5, *' If any of 
you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all 
men liberally and upbraideth not, and it shall be given 
him," we prefer to look to God for light and help for the 
proper understanding of his word, rather than appeal to 
any man as an infallible interpreter. 

Du Pin, a celebrated Roman Catholic waiter, remarks 
that *' if there are parts of the Holy Scriptures which are 
obscure and diflBcult, it is not ordinarily the common peo- 
ple who abuse them, but the proud and learned. For it 
is not the ignorant and simple who have originated the 
heresies in abusing the word of God, but they have been 
for the most part bishops and priests, and men of know- 
ledge and fame. So far from being taught by exj^erience 
that the ordinary reading of the Holy Scriptures is dan- 



«^0 THE FALSE CLAIMS 

gerous to the simple and ignorant, experience teaches 
that this reading has caused the wise to stumble, while 
the simple have found nothing in the Scriptures but what 
might instruct and edify them. Prolegom. S. S. Tom. 1. 

Espencceus, a Roman Catholic bishop of the 16th cen- 
tury, says, " Truly I have been, by the grace of God, 
conversant with the orthodox Fathers, and cannot but be 
astonished that the custom of reading the Holy Scriptures 
by the common peoj^le should be accounted capital and 
pestilent, which to the ancient and orthodox Fathers 
seemed so useful." Esp. Comment, on Titus, ch. 2, pr 
266. And from the early Fathers of the church we might 
bring an overwhelming mass of testimony that the Holy 
Scriptures are to be read by all the common people. 

The fact is, no church need have any fear from the 
most public and general distribution of the word of God, 
unless it be one that lives and supports itself by deluding 
the people. The Bible is pure and holy in all its influen- 
ces ; but it does rebuke error, and unmask hypocrisy, 
and dissipate clouds of darkness. It was an act of infinite 
wisdom that gave us the written word. God well knew 
the deceitfulness and deep wickedness of the human heart. 
He knew how easily stories of facts become changed in 
passing from mouth to mouth ; and of consequence the 
uncertainty of tradition as a medium of communication 
with the successive generations of men. 

He would not leave his own eternal truth exposed to 
such fluctuations. He knew the necessity of a perma- 
nent, unchangeable standard — always living, and ^vithin 
every one's reach and before every one's eye — and such 
a standard he has given us in his wTitten word. There 
was a peculiar wisdom also in adapting it to common use, 
and not locking it up in dark and mysterious sayings, 
which only the learned could study out. In this popular 
form it would continually operate as a check upon de- 
signing and ambitious men. If any man comes to us now 
claiming to make known the truth of God, we have only 
to compare his statements with the written word. The 
written word is our only sure standard, and God has 
given it for every man's use, that by it we may know all 
doctrines whether they he of God. We are therefore at 
liberty to test the preaching of every man by the holy 



OP THE POPE. 31 

word of God. An inspired penman commended the Be- 
reans, Acts, 17 : 11, because they did not receive upon 
mere hearsay the words even of Paul and Silas, but search- 
ed the Scriptures daily to see whether these thingswere so. 

The Israelites v^ere commanded not to listen to a man, 
even though he w^rought miracles in confirmation of what 
he said, if he taught them what was subversive of truths 
already revealed. Deut. 13 ; 1-3. So we are bound to 
bring every truth to the test of the revealed word of God. 
No power on earth is authorized to take from the com- 
mon people the right and privilege of comparing the in- 
structions they receive with the written word. Yea, were 
an angel of God to make his appearance before us, and 
declare that he had a communication to us from God, we 
are bound to compare it with the Holy Scriptures, and 
reject it if it contain any thing contrary thereto ; for Paul 
said, " Though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any 
other Gospel unto you than that which we have preached 
unto you, let him be accursed." Gal. 1 : 8. 

Paul commended Timothy for having learnedyr6>?,>i his 
childhood the Holy Scriptures, 2 Tim. 3 : 15, " which," 
says the apostle, " are able to make thee wise unto sal- 
vation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus." And he 
then goes on to say, " All Scripture is given by inspira- 
tion of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for 
correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man 
of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all 
good works." 

But if Timothy could profitably study the Scriptures in 
childhood, so could others at the same age ; and if the 
truths of the Bible are simple enough for the understand- 
ing of children, surely they are for the use of the people 
at large. '' Take unto you," says Paul to the Ephesians, 
6:17, " the sword of the Spirit, which is the ivord of 
God.'" This was addressed to all believers ; but how can 
this exhortation be complied with if all are not permitted 
to have the word of God 1 " Prove all things, ^^ says Paul 
to the Thessalonians, 1 Thess. 5 : 21, " hold fast that 
which is good." " Beloved, believe not every spirit, (or 
teacher,) but try the spirits, whether they are of God, be- 
cause many false prophets are gone out into the world." 
1 John, 4:1. But how is it possible for us to do this, if 



32 THE FALSE CLAIMS OF THE POPE. 

we are to take every thing that is stated to us by the 
emissaries of Rome upon trust, and without any exami- 
nation whatever ? It was the duty of all the Jews, without 
exception, to have the law in their houses and teach it to 
their children most diligently, Deut. 6 : 7-9 ; and how 
much more important is it that all christians should read 
and teach to their children the glorious truths of the 
Gospel ! 

Again the apostle Paul wrote '* to the churches of 
Galatia," Gal. 1:8, '' Though we or an angel from hea- 
ven preach any other Gospel unto you than that which 
we have preached to you, let him be accursed." This was 
addressed, not to the preachers but to the hearers, that is 
to the common people ; but how shall they know what 
is " another Gospel," and how shall they be able to decide 
whether what they hear is sound doctrine or heresy, and 
how shall they distinguish the preacher of the Gospel 
from the preacher of mere human opinions and traditions, 
unless they read for themselves the word of God, and try 
every doctrine preached by that infallible test '? The ener- 
getic language of Paul plainly implies an imperative duty 
on the part of all christians to study diligently the Holy 
Scriptures, and to reject whatever is opposed to them. 

A much larger treatise might be written, showing many 
other reasons for not admitting the pretensions of the 
church of Rome. Let candid men, however, read and pon- 
der what has now been said ; and may God by his Spirit 
illuminate the mind of every reader, and enable him to 
distinguish between what is false and what is true. The 
writer of this has no desire to injure any man or any 
body of men in the world. He has no other ^\^sh for the 
Roman Church, than that they may turn from all their 
evil ways, and become adorned with every gi'ace of the 
Gospel. He felt constrained to speak, however, because 
many are ignorantly deceived by claims that are wholly 
false and unfounded, and intimidated by threats that can 
never be executed. Let every man fearlessly examine 
for himself, and may the Spirit of God lead all to a rig/it 
knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



nro. 433. 

SCRIPTURE PROMISES 

TO THE LIBERAL. 



COMMANDS OR DUTIES. 

Take heed, and beware 
of covetousness : for a 
man's life consisteth not in 
the abundance of the things 
which he possesseth — but 
rather seek ye the kingdom 
of God, 

Sell whatsoever thou 
hast, and give to the poor, 

Do good, and lend, hop- 
ing for nothing again ; . . 



Give, 



But when thou doest 
alms, let not thy left hand 
know what thy right hand 
doeth ; that thine alms may 
be in secret : 

But to do good, and to 
communicate, forget not ; 



Trust in the Lord, and 
do good : 



PROMISES. 



and all these things shall be 
added unto you. Luke 12 : 
15, 31. 

and thou shalt have treasure 
in heaven. Mark 10 : 21. 

and your reward shall be 
great, and ye shall be the 
children of the Highest. 
Luke 6 : 35. 

and it shall be given unto 
you ; good measure, pressed 
down and shaken together, 
and running over : for with 
the same measure that ye 
mete, it shall be measured 
to you again. Luke 6 : 38. 

and thy Father who seeth 
in secret, himself shall re- 
ward thee openly. Matt. 
6 : 3, 4. 

for with such sacrifices God 
is well pleased. Hebrews 
13:16. 

so shalt thou dwell in the 
land, and verily thou shalt 
be fed. Psalm 37 : 3. 



20 



SCRIPTURE PROMISES TO THE LIBERAL. 



COMMANDS OR DUTIES. 

There is that scattereth, 
The liberal soul . . . 
He that watercth . . 

Honor the Lord with thy 
substance, and with the 
first-fruits of all thine in- 



PROMISES. 

and yet increaseth. 

shall be made fat. 

shall be watered also himself. 

Prov. 11 : 24, 25. 

so shall thy barns be filled 
with plenty, and thy presses 
shall burst out with new 
wine. Prov. 3:9, 10. 



Thou shalt not harden 
thine heart, nor shut thine 
hand from thy poor broth- 
er ; but thou shalt open 
thine hand wide unto him, 
and shalt surely lend him 

sufficient for his need, in because that for this thing, 
that which he wanteth : the Lord thy God shall 
thou shalt surely give him, bless thee in all thy works, 
and thine heart shall not and in all that thou puttest 
be grieved when thou givest thine hand unto. Deut. 15 : 

unto him: 7, 8, 10. 

He that hath pity upon 
the poor, lendeth unto the and that which he hath 

Lord ; given will he pay him again. 

Prov. 19 : 17. 
He that hath a bountiful 

eye shall be blessed. Proverbs 

22 : 9. 
He that giveth unto the 

poor shall not lack. Prov. 28 : 2*7. 

If thou draw out thy soul 
to the hungry, and satisfy then shall thy hght rise in 
the afflicted soul, .... obscurity, and thy darkness 

be as the noonday ; and the 
Lord shall guide thee con- 
tinually, and satisfy thy soul 
in drought ; and thou shalt 
be like a watered garden, 
and like a spring of water, 
whose waters fail not. Isaiah 
58: 10, 11. 



SCRIPTURE PROMISES TO THE LIBERAL. 



COMMANDS OR DUTIES. 

If thine enemy be hun- 
gry, give him bread to eat ; 
and if he be thirsty, give 
him water to drink ; . . . 

He that followeth after 
righteousness and mercy. 

Cast thy bread upon the 
waters ; 

The liberal deviseth Hb- 
eral things ; 



Blessed are the merciful ; 

A good man showeth 
favor, and lendeth. . . . 



I have showed you all 
things, how that so laboring 
ye ought to support the 
weak, and to remember the 
words of the Lord Jesus, 
how he said, 

Verily I say unto you, 
inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these 
my brethren, 

Wherefore, break oft" thy 
sins by righteousness, and 
thine iniquities by showing 
mercy to the poor; . . . 

If thou forbear to de- 
liver them that are drawn 
unto death, and those that 
are ready to be slain ; if 
thou sayest. Behold, we 
knew it not ; 



PROMISES. 



and the Lord shall reward 
thee. Prov. 25 : 21, 22. 

findeth life, righteousness, 
and honor. Prov. 21:21. 

for thou shalt find it after 
many days. Eccles. 11:1. 

and by liberal things shall 
he stand. Isaiah 32:8. 
for they shall obtain mercy. 
Matt. 5:7. 

Surely he shall not be mov- 
ed for ever — he shall not 
be afraid of evil tidings. 
Psalm 112: 5, 6, 7. 



It is more blessed to give 
than to receive. Acts 20:35. 



ye have done it unto me. 
Matt. 25 : 40. 

if it may be a lengthening 
of thy tranquillity. Dan. 
4:27. 

doth not He that pondereth 
the heart consider it ? and 
He that keepeth thy soul, 
doth not he know it? and 
shall not he render to 
every man according to his 
works? Prov. 24:11, 12. 



SCRIPTURE PROMISES TO THE LIBERAL. 



C03IMANDS OR DUTIES. 

Blessed is he that con- 
sidereth the poor. . . . 



Charge them that are 
rich in this world — that 
they do good — that they 
be rich in good works, 
ready to distribute, willing 
to communicate ; . .* . 

He which soweth boun- 
tifully, 



He hath dispersed, he 
hath given to the poor ; 



And let us not be weary 
in well-doing ; .... 



Thy prayers and thine 
alms 



Circulate copies, and 
look for your reward in . . 



PROMISES. 

The Lord will deliver him 
in time of trouble. The 
Lord will preserve him, and 
keep him alive ; and he 
shall be blessed upon the 
earth : and thou wilt not 
deliver him unto the will of 
his enemies. The Lord will 
strengthen him upon the 
bed of languishing : thou 
wilt make all his bed in his 
sickness. Psalm 41 : 1, 2, 3. 

laying up in store for them- 
selves a good foundation 
against the time to come, 
that they may lay hold on 
eternal life. 1 Tim. G : 17, 
18, 19. 

shall reap also bountifully ; 
for God loveth a cheerful 
giver. 2 Cor. 9:6, 7. 

his righteousness endureth 
for ever ; his horn shall be 
exalted with honor. Psalm 
112:9. 

for in due season we shall 
reap, if we faint not. Gal. 
6:9. 

are come up for a me- 
morial before God. Acts 
10: 4. 

Isaiah 55 : 10, 11. j. l. p. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 434. 



BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 



The culture of the soil has often been the pleasure of 
the most distinguished men, as it is commonly the business 
of the peaceful and industrious. The regularity in the la- 
bor required by the successive seasons of the year, produ- 
ces systematic habits ; and employment amid the ever- vary- 
ing beauties of the earth, and beneath the gorgeous expanse 
of heaven, is well adapted to foster a spirit of cheerfulness 
and devotion. 

In such circumstances a pious heart finds abundant 
matter for relic/ioits meditation, and turning from the works 
of God to his sacred word, is feasted with the many allu- 
sions to rural life. Ploughing and sowing in hope, and 
then, after patient waiting, gathering the sheaves into the 
garner, he proves the faithfulness of the promise, " seed- 
time and harvest shall not fail." Hence, the piety of an 
individual or church engaged in agricultural pursuits, is 
wont to be of a contemplative and stable character. 

But with this advantage on the one hand, it must be 
conceded, that on the other there is a strong tendency to 
shrink from the active efforts, and to withhold the liberal 
charities which are demanded by the first principles of the 
Gospel ; and without which Christian character is evidently 
defective, our light cannot shine, and multitudes of our 
fellow-men, near and afar off, will sui-ely perish. This ten- 
denc)'', in many instances, has been happily counteracted, 
and Christian farmers are acquainting themselves with the 
moral condition of the world, and the wonderful facilities 
for hastening on the triumphs of Immanuel. Such will 
welcome a few suggestions designed to enlarge the streams 
of benevolence. 

1. The best earthly possessions are in your hands. The 
permanence and fertility of the soil, its improvement by 

VOL. XI. 20*^ 



2 A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 

proper use and comparatively small liability to damage 
from accidents, the healthfulness of the occupation, and the 
indispensableness of the fruits of the earth for the suste- 
nance of man and beast, render your condition highly de- 
sirable. Not a few who had embarked in other business, 
whether they have been prospered or wrecked in their for- 
tunes, at length resort to husbandry as a refuge from con- 
tinual anxiety and vicissitudes. Thus preeminently favor- 
ed in the allotment of Providence, does not nature dictate 
that your hearts should swell with emotions of gratitude, 
and that you should cheerfully offer unto God the first- 
fruits of all your increase ? and does not the grace of the 
Gospel require and incline you to consecrate all your sub- 
stance to the glory of the Giver ; especially in making known 
the great salvation ? 

No class of Christians are as well situated as you, for 
pouring steady contributions into the funds of benevolent 
societies. Doubtless you are somewhat affected by the 
circumstances of others; yet you rarely experience, or 
need to experience the sudden and utter prostration of 
affairs to which they are unavoidably subject. Upon you, 
therefore, devolves, in a high degree, the duty of sustaining 
the Christian enterprises of the age ; and upon you, to a 
fearful extent, must rest the accountability for their failure. 

2. Review your accounts ivith objects of benevolence. It 
is sad beyond expression, to be constrained by unques- 
tionable facts to think that many farmers who profess a 
readiness to forsake all things for Christ's sake and the 
Gospel, have never kept an account, either in principle or 
practice, mentally or in writing, with charitable objects. 
They have not shared in promoting these objects, except as 
incidentally urged on their attention, and then the veriest 
trifle has been prayerlessly and reluctantly bestowed. The 
history of their beneficence is most lamentably a blank. They 
have no account of their own to review. But they should 
remember, that God has kept a strict account of their un- 
fruitfulness, and upon that he noAV bids them look with 
tears of deep repentance, and do the works meet for re- 
pentance ; or soon his command Avill be heard, as in the 
case of the barren fig-tree, "Cut it down; why cumbereth 
it the ground?" 

But it is gratifying to believe, that not a few cordially 



A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 



love the objects of benevolence, and freely support them. 
You are pleased to consider the variety and vastness of 
their claims ; you rejoice in their success, and sincerely 
pray that their grand aim, the conversion of the world, may 
be speedily accomplished. Suffer, however, the remark, 
that all this may be true, and yet your charities may be 
destitute of sijstem ; or being systematic, they may be so 
on erroneous j^rmciples ; and even those principles may be 
\>\\.t partially observed. 

No business can be wisely and successfully prosecuted 
without system. Yet some of you, there is reason to fear, 
have not carefully weighed this subject, and established a 
system ior your contributions as you have for your business. 
You have not adopted benevolent institutions as your chil- 
dren, for whom you will make constant and sufficient provis- 
ion. You have done something — you have done it cheer- 
fully, and at times, perhaps, nobly. But there has been no 
regularity in time or amount ; no definite principle or pro- 
portion ; no imll-kept and balanced account. Your impres- 
sion probably is, that your donations have been large ; but 
a record of all you have given for the last five years, might 
surprise you with its littleness : whether compared with 
the magnitude and urgency of these objects ; or with your 
actual receipts from the hand of a kind Providence ; or 
with your expenditures for yourselves and households, 
even for superfluities ; or with the investments which you 
have made in public enterprises, or in adding farm to farm ; 
or compared with the donations of many whose means have 
been less than your own. 

Others, again, have been systematic in their support of 
benevolent objects. You have laid down rules, and gen- 
erally adhered to them. But it may be, that those rules 
were adopted years ago, before such wide doors were 
opened and the way so fully prepared for the universal 
spread of Christianity ; and that the amazing changes which 
God has wrought among the nations, outstripping the weak 
faith and tardy footsteps of the church, demand a neiv and 
greatly enlarged scale of charitable offerings ; or it may be, 
that those rules were adopted when your pecuniary re- 
sources were more limited than now, and that the bountiful 
increase of your goods demands a more bountiful propor- 
tion of them for the spiritual benefit of mankind. 



4 A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 

Perhaps some of you who have been greatly prospered, 
\vill find, upon examination, that even according to your 
own system, or the least ratio you could have well pro- 
posed, say the tenth of your net income, you oive a debt of 
arrearages which you have suffered to accumulate, but 
which you will feel yourselves conscientiously bound to 
pay up : as did Nathaniel R. Cobb, the noble merchant 
of Boston, who finding himself in possession of $7,500 more 
than his rules of charity allowed, at once gave the whole 
of it to a theological seminary. 

Be entreated, then, to review your accounts with benev- 
olent objects, as seriousl}'- as with creditors or debtors. Do 
it with accuracy, for no error can escape the detection of 
your Judge. Do it with a solemn renewal of your covenant 
to live and to give for the triumphant progress of the Gos- 
pel through every land. 

3. By liberal offerings to the service of God, you will 
secure the most desirable measure of future 'prosperity. It 
is an avowed principle of the divine government to "turn 
a fruitful land into barrenness, for the wickedness of them 
that dwell therein," Ps. lO*? : 34 ; and an opposite princi- 
ple is set forth in the passage, " Honor the Lord with thy 
substance, and with the first-fruits of all thine increase ; so 
shall thy barns be filled ivith plenty.'' Prov. 3 : 9. The 
Lord can easily bring the elements of destruction against 
an individual, neighborhood, or region, that provoke his 
displeasure and need to be visited with mildew and blasting. 
And on the other hand, He who causes the sun to shine 
and the rain to descend, can easily direct their fertilizing 
influences upon those fields which he shall delight to bless. 
Read Amos 4 : 7-9, and Haggai 1 : 4-11. In this meth- 
od, God often verifies the word, " There is that scattereth, 
and vet increaseth ; and there is that withholdeth more 
than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." Prov. 11 : 24. 
A benevolent husbandry is Avont to be a prosperous hus- 
bandry. 

It is not, indeed, to be denied, that temporal advantages 
are bestowed or withheld by God on a great diversity of 
principles, and in an endless variety of methods and de- 
grees. Still, the divine promises are many and strong to 
encourage the expect-ation that a sjjecial blessing shall rest 
upon the men who, with sincere desires to honor God, de- 



A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 5 

vote their estates to his service ; and the general experience 
of the Hberal and devout has corresponded with the com- 
mon representations of Scripture-: " He that hath pity upon 
the poor, lendeth unto the Lord ; and that which he hath 
given, ivill he jxiy him again.'' Prov. 19 : 17. "Bring ye 
all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat 
in ray house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord 
of hosts, if I will not open you the windoivs of heaven, and 
pour out a blessing, that there shall not he room enough to 
receive it. And I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, 
and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground ; neither 
shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, 
saith the Lord of hosts." Mai. 3 : 10, 11. " Give, and it 
shall he given unto you ; good measure, pressed down, shaken 
together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom." 
Luke 6:38. ''Verily, I say unto you, there is no man 
that hath left house or lands, for my sake, and the Gospel's, 
but he shall receive a hundred-fold noiu in this time." Mark 
10 : 29, 30. Whatever may be the spiritual import of these 
strong declarations, they evidently comprehend temporal 
benefits. 

Many instances 'might be adduced in confirmation of 
this view. That of Solomon Goodell, the Vermont far- 
mer, is highly interesting. He was a plain man, occupying 
a house and farm worth about $1,000, on the Green Moun- 
tains. His property was at no time valued at more than 
$5,000, all of which was gained by personal labor, or saved 
by strict frugality, or received as interest on small sums 
lent to his neighbors. But his charities indicated a princely 
spirit and possessions. He gave $50, and $100, and even 
more than $1,000 in a year, to a single object. He never 
allowed his means to accumulate much upon his hands. As 
he gave away, it was returned to him with increase, and 
thus he multiphed and enlarged his charities, still keeping- 
down the amount of his actual possessions. 

In those cases which form an exception to these general 
promises of God, and the general experience of the benevo- 
lent, we may be assured that temporal benefits are with- 
held for wise reasons, and should derive comfort from that 
word, " A little which a righteous man hath is better than 
the riches of many wicked." Ps. 37 : 16. It is also a 
cheering consideration, that God often rewards a liberal 



6 



A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 



parent in the prosperity of his children. " He is ever mer- 
ciful, and lendeth : and his seed is blessed." Ps. 3Y : 26. 

But whatever, in the goodness and mystery of divine 
Providence, may be the outward lot of the benevolent on 
earth : though he be laid like Lazarus at the gate of the 
rich and wicked ; or, like Job, be stripped for a while of 
his family and possessions, an object of loathing and scorn ; 
still his record is on high, and his eternity shall be glorious 
and blissful as the good w^orks which, growing out of a 
justifying faith, shall have marked his earthly career. Every 
cup of cold water which he shall have given to a disciple in 
the name of a disciple, shall receive a disciple's reward. 
Every penny he shall have expended for the widow and the 
fatherless, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, deliver- 
ing them that are oppressed, reclaiming the vicious, and 
especially for spreading the Gospel and saving souls, shall 
be transmuted into a polished jewel in his unfading crown. 

Then the true value of earthly possessions will be as- 
certained ; when their bearing upon spiritual and eternal 
interests shall appear in the blessedness of multitudes saved 
by their means, and in the glory of those who consecrated 
them to such a noble object. How distinguished then will 
be the honor, how transporting the joys of the individuals 
who, scattered among the churches, have been forward, 
and self-denying, and generous in their deeds of charity. 
Who Avill not then wish that he had been one of those who 
made larye investments in the enterprises of benevolence ? 
Dear reader, make that your policy now which through 
endless ages you will judge to have been your highest 
wisdom. 

4. The earth which yields to you her increase, has been 
moistened with atoning blood, and the blood of prophets, 
ap)ostles, and martyrs, poured out for the salvation of men : 
will you not weep over its present moral desolations, and 
scatter the Gospel with a bountiful hand ? 

The course of our Saviour in voluntarily subjecting 
himself to the deepest poverty and unutterable sufferings 
for the salvation of men, you profess to admire as the no- 
blest example of moral sublimity. Upon this you build 
all your hopes of pardon and eternal life ; to this you direct 
inquiring sinners, as the only medium of their return to God ; 
and this you have solemnly pledged yourselves to imitate 



A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 7 

SO far as may be conducive to the same great end, the sal- 
vation of souls. 

In the history of the church at different periods, the 
hearts of the godly have been stirred within them to be 
strildngly conformed, in this respect, to the glorious exam- 
ple of their Lord. They have suffered joyfully the spoiling 
of their goods ; they have eagerly devoted large portions, 
and even the whole of their possessions, to works of mercy ; 
they have not held their own lives dear, but have loved to 
sacrifice them on the altar of the Gospel. You read of 
their disinterestedness and magnanimity. You discern and 
extol their resemblance to the Son of God. Why not then 
become yourselves the followers of them, as they were also 
of Christ Jesus ? The very exemption from bitter and bloody 
persecution which you enjoy, is an additional reason for 
making inrsonal efforts and employing your property ivith 
the utmost zeal in the cause of Christ. Inferior offerings 
should be largely bestowed when circumstances do not 
require or allow the more costly expression of your love. 

Besides, the facilities afforded you for prosecuting Chris- 
tian enterprises, especially the power of the press, by which 
the blessings of salvation may be rapidly conferred upon 
thousands of our own population, and missionaries dispersed 
among distant nations may greatly extend their influence, 
surely demand a forwardness to the work far beyond what 
is now displayed. Christians of this land and at this day, 
have not the slightest apology for restraining their compas- 
sion, their tears, their prayers, and their charities. 

On the records of benevolence, the name of Normaxd 
Smith, the humble and economical, but distinguished me- 
chanic of Hartford, Conn., who prosecuted liis business 
with all diligence, /or the express and chief purpose of mak- 
ing money thoA he might give it to charitable objects, waits for 
the enrolment by its side of the names of multitudes from 
all occupations, who shall act on the same Christian principle. 

Never was there a period when the self-denial and mu- 
nificence of our Lord called more loudly for imitation. The 
broad field of the world seems ripe unto the harvest ; na- 
tions are pleading for the institutions of the Gospel ; ob- 
stacles, once thought insurmomitable, are taken out of the 
way ; the Holy Spirit is poured forth upon people of divers 
tongues ; and he chides the dilatory movements, the parsi- 



8 ^ A BENEVOLENT HUSBANDRY. 

monious contributions of Christians, by withdrawing from 
them his benign and joyous influences. 

At such a time, when the Almighty has evidently arisen 
to accomplish the glorious things which he has spoken of 
Zion, and when a multitude of events are conspiring to 
favor the spiritual conquest of the earth, shall it be told 
that the work of God is hindered because Christians are 
living for themselves ; toiling to accumulate for themselves ; 
luxuriously enjoying their abundance as though they ex- 
pected all their good things in the present life ? Shall it 
be told that Christian farmers are blessed with ample 
harvests and increasing wealth, but prefer adding farm to 
farm, or investing their money in other schemes for per- 
sonal gain and public improvement, to casting liberally 
into the treasury of the Lord, for the saving of immortal 
souls ? 

An extensive and generous effort, upon gospel princi- 
ples, among the pious farmers of this land, would swell 
the streams of benevolence beyond all that has been known ; 
the enlarged plans of benevolence could be executed ; and 
an ocean of love and salvation spread over the face of the 
whole earth. 

Such a husbandry would indeed be a prosperous hus- 
bandry. In view of it, we might appropriately adopt the 
language of the Q*li\\ Psalm : " Then shall the earth yield 
her increase ; and God, even our own God, shall bless us. 
God shall bless us, and all the ends of the earth shall fear 
him." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



a 



No. 435. 

WHY DO WE SIT STILL?" 



This was the question which the Jews put to one an- 
other when on the eve of the invasion of Judea by the 
Chaldeans. "Danger is near," said they, "and we are 
unprotected. Here in the open country we have no walls 
of defence, no rocks to which to flee, no hope of escape ; 
the defenced cities invite us to their protection — why do 
we sit still .^" 

And WHY DO SINNERS OUT OF ChRIST SIT STILL ? 

Their danger is imminent and tremendous. The perusal 
of the representation of these dangers in the Scriptures fills 
the mind with awe. 

Tliey are under the sentence of eternal death. " The soul 
that sinneth, it shall die." " Cursed is every one that con- 
tinueth not in all things which are written in the book of 
the law to do them." They not only deserve to die, but 
are assigned to death by the sentence of the unchanging 
law of God, whose power nothing can resist. 

And sinners are exposed to the infliction of this penalty 
every moment. God is angry with the wicked every day. 
The suspended sword of justice is prevented from falling 
upon theni by the mere will of God. They are spared, not 
because their sins are forgotten or forgiven, but because 
mercy cries, "Spare a little longer." 

What if they noAv see no signs of danger ? Health is no 
security against disease or death. How often does the rose 
on the cheek bloom, and fade, and die in a week. The ar- 
rows of the destroyer, though unseen by the keenest vision, 
are ever flying thick and swift around us. When there is 
not a sign of its approach, the wrath of God may drop upon 
the sinner like a flash of lightning from a clear and cloudless 
sky. 

Nor can sinners, hy any care or prudence of their own, 
while neglecting the refuge God has provided, escape this 
danger. On this point they rest under an awful delusion. 
Whilst God is under no obligation to keep them a moment 
out of hell, they are deceiving themselves v*uth many false 

VOL. XT. 21 



2 "WHV DO WE SIT STILL?" 

pleas that tliey shall finally escape. But all this is building 
on clouds, and trusting in shadows. And how often has 
sudden destruction fallen upon them whilst weaving the 
web of hope as to the future. Why, then, do they sit still ? 

But AM I SITTING STILL? — a momentous inquiry in ref- 
erence to your salvation. I answer, you may be sitting still, 
although in some degree conscious of danger. How many 
sinners are fully assured that the storm of God's wrath is 
approaching, who j^et make no effort to avoid it. They sit 
still without using the means provided for their escape. 
Their depravity neutralizes the influence of their knowledge, 
and they sit still. 

You may be sitting still, though you have serious con- 
victions of sin. Pharaoh, and Saul, and Judas, and Ana- 
nias, were the subjects of as powerful convictions as were 
multitudes who have been saved ; but they resisted them, 
and finally perished. And many of my readers are, no 
doubt, sitting still as to all right preparation to meet the 
danger that awaits them, who are no strangers to religious 
convictions, and who, under bitter consciousness of guilt, 
often lift a cry to heaven for pardon. 

You may also be sitting still, though you attend on the 
ordinary means of grace — the reading and preaching of the 
word, and prayer. These are all designed to lead us to 
Christ, who is '' the end of the law for righteousness to 
every one that belie veth." But alas, how many hear the 
word preached regularly on the Sabbath, and read the Bible 
with no little interest, and even pray for the pardon of their 
sins, who are yet sitting still as to the great work of their 
salvation. They have no heartfelt desire of obtaining their 
end. They are utter strangers to the feelings of Paul, 
which induced him to exclaim, " I count all things but loss 
for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my 
Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and 
do count them but dung that I may win Christ." Though 
in the use of the external means, they are yet sitting still. 
The storm is approaching, and they are without a cover to 
protect them. 

The sum of the matter is this. The danger of sinners 
is as we have described. Christ Jesus is the only hiding- 
place from that danger. And whatever they do, or what- 
ever they leave undone, ttnless they are jmrsuing Ihe course 



"WHY DO WE SIT STILL?" 3 

which leads to Christ, they are sitting still. They need not 
be avowed unbelievers, nor opposers of religion, nor profane 
swearers, nor yet cold-hearted assenters to the truth ; on 
the contrary, they may be theoretical believers, acd be 
friendly to the extension of religion, and be moral and 
amiable, and regular attendants on the sanctuary, and occa- 
sionally solicitous as to their salvation, and if they go no 
farther, they are sitting still. They may consider them- 
selves busily engaged in the great work of preparation, but 
they are only engaged as is the man who is piling up dry 
stubble to check the conflagration, or who is building a wall 
of chaft" to check the tornado. Every man is sitting still, 
who is not, ivith true sincerity, and in dependence upon the 
Spirit of God for success, agonizing to enter in hy the strait 
gate. And let it be recollected, that the strait gate is 
Christ. 

The chief end of man is, to glorify God, and enjoy him 
for ever. If this end is not obtained, the great end of life 
is lost, and our very being will be an immeasurable calamity. 
To sit still while such an end is before us, and such wrath 
is suspended over us, is most unreasonable. For, 

1. Every thing around us is moving on to the attain- 
ment of the great end of its being — the sun in heaven, the 
moon and stars, and the earth we inhabit. The beasts 
around us are all obedient to their instincts. The little ants 
crowd their storehouses in summer with provisions for 
winter. " The stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed 
times, and the turtle, the crane, and the swallow observe 
the time of their coming." And why does man sit still? 
He knows that he does not rise upon the great ocean of life 
like a bubble, to float there for a brief space, and then to 
disappear for ever. He is born never to die. 

2. This is contrary to the usual course of man on other 
subjects. A fleet has reached our shores, and is pouring 
in upon us an invading army ; and are any sitting still ? 
You are in great danger of losing your property — do you 
sit still, leaving its presentation to the chances of fortune ? 
Who then will fold his hands when dangers threaten the 
eternal niin of the soul ? 

3. Thus to sit still, is in opposition to our judgment, con- 
science, and best interests. Have these paragraphs a reader 
whose judgment is not convinced of the danger to which 



4 "WHY DO WE SIT STILL?" 

sin exposes him, and of the duties which he owes to God 
and to man ; or one whose conscience does not upbraid him 
for the neglect of these duties ? All may be quiet without, 
but can you say as much of conscience ? The moon- beams 
may quietly sleep on the sides and summit of the volcano, 
whilst billows of burning lava are rolling within. 

4. Perseverance in sitting still makes the sinner a self- 
murderer. Every man under the Gospel greatly aggra- 
vates his guilt by a rejection of Jesus Christ. The rejection 
of Christ is a damning sin. In Chiist we have a remedy as 
broad as our disease ; we have in him a way of escape as 
effectual as our danger is fearful. If we fail to use the 
means appointed to bring us to the Lord Jesus Christ, then 
we are lost, not merely because we are sinners, but because 
we fail to use the appointed means. We are, therefore, 
self-murderers. For the sinner to secure his eternal death, 
it is not necessary that he should be profane, or infidel, or 
a neglecter of public worship ; all that is necessary is, to sit, 
still in the way we have now explained. And if lost by 
thus sitting still, upon every door, window, and wall of his 
eternal prison-house will be written in letters of fire, " Thou 
hast destroyed thyself.'' 

And now let me ask, why will any sinner who reads 
these pages sit still a moment longer? Will your guilt 
ever '^e less than now ? Will you ever have a more suita- 
able time than now to work out your salvation ? Or do 
you expect a more suitable Saviour, or terms of life moi-e 
easy ? To these questions you reply in the negative. Why, 
then, sit still ? The law is thundering, and why do you not 
fear ? Mercy is inviting, and why not hearken ? The storm 
is rising, and Jesus is inviting you to the ark ; why not tiy 
to it as on dove's wings ? "Escape for thy life ; look not 
behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain ; escape to 
the mountain, lest thou be consumed." Sit not still a mo- 
ment longer. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i\o. 436. 

THE 



WRATH TO COME 



Yes, there is ivrath to come. Multitudes deny it, and 
try to disbelieve it, and multitudes more labor to forget it. 
Yet it li'ill come. Hear the voice of eternal truth. 

" Who will render to every man according to his deeds. 
Unto them that are contentious, and do not obey the truth, 
but obey unrighteousness ; indignation and tcrath, tribula- 
tion and a7iguish, in the day when God shall judge the se- 
crets of men by Jesus Christ." Rom. 2 : 6-9, 16. "The 
ivrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodli- 
ness, and mirighteousness of men, who hold the truth m un- 
righteousness." Rom. 1 : 18. "Let no man deceive you 
with vain words ; for because of these things the ivrath of 
God Cometh on the children of disobedience." Eph. 5 : 6. 

And does not conscience speak the same language ? 
What mean those fearful apprehensions, those dark and 
gloomy forebodings that often fill the sinner's bosom, and de- 
prive his soul of peace ? Why the alarm and tremblmg of 
the murderer at the rustling of a leaf — the fearful sights 
that disturb his slumbers, or the agony of spirit that holds 
his eyes waking ? Why has God put such a monitor in the 
sinner's breast, except to teach him that there is wrath to 
come ? 

Does not Providence repeat the same lesson ? Why do 
the wicked live, increase in riches, shine in honors, riot in 
luxury ? " Their eyes stand out with fatness, they have 
m.ore than heart could wish;" while "his people return 
hither, and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them." 
God's own image, the loveliest exhibition of his renewing 
grace, is insulted, trodden mider foot, and crushed by his 
enemies. Is God indifferent to the sufferings of his chil- 
dren ? Is he not just ? Has he not power to punish ? 
Must there not be ivrath to come ? 

0, then, listen not to the soothing delusion, that it will 
be well with you, though you walk after the imagination 
of your evil heart. It is the suggestion of the devil, the 
father of lies, who, with such fatal success, said to our first 

VOL. XI. '2,1^ 



2 THE WRATH TO COME. 

mother, " Ye sliall not surely die." Yes, there is wrath to 
come. 

It is coming rajyidly. It will soon be here. Every day, 
every hour, every moment brings it on with fearful haste ; 
perhaps the next moment it may begin to descend upon some 
wretched soul ; and when once it comes, all resistance will 
be A'^ain. Entreaties, tears, groans will not avail to ward 
it ofi^, or mitigate its horrors. Stoic indifference will be 
equally vain ; for 

It is the tvrath of God. It is the wrath which infinite 
Justice inflicts for the honor of his throne, and as a warning 
to all worlds. Wrath which has been accumulating during 
all the years while benevolence endured with much long- 
suffering the sins of men ; not willing that any should per'sh, 
but that all should come to repentance. The interests of 
the universe now require it ; holy angels approve, and the 
wretched victims themselves will ever find a witness in their 
own bosoms, that they receive the just reward of their deeds. 
But 0, how can they bear it ? 

It is the wrath of God. The wTath of man, a fellow- 
creature, a worm, may be resisted, overcome, or borne in 
sullen silence. From the wrath of an angel there might be 
an appeal to a higher power, a refuge beneath the throne of 
God. But Avho can resist the arm of Omnipotence, or bear 
up under the pressure of infinite wrath ? " Who hath hard- 
ened himself against him, and prospered ?" "Can thine 
heart endure, or will thine arm be strong in the day when 
he shall deal with thee ?" 

One of the ingredients of this bitter cup is the loss of 
heaven. That world of light and glory, of beauty and hap- 
piness, the suitable and sutficient portion of the soul, which 
God has provided for his children, and which was so often 
offered to the sinner, is gone for ever. All its sublime joys, 
its sweet harmonies, its enduring friendships, its holy fellow- 
ships, its exalted employments, its enrapturing scenes, its 
exj)anding knowledge, its perfect holiness — all, all are lost ; 
and there is nothing left to supply their place, for the world 
is also lost. All that was cherished and loved on earth is 
left behind. There are no riches, no friends, no honors, no 
pleasures in hell. Utter desolation and ruin have come over 
all the hopes, and interests of the sinner. 

Now what disappointment and grief, what shame and 



THE WRATH TO COME. 3 

remorse fill the soul. Conscience, which has so long slum- 
bered, is now awakened, and stings the soul with the recol- 
lection of its thousand thousands of transgressions. None 
are forgotten, none can be excused or extenuated. In all 
their magnitude and guilt they stand out before the mind, 
and fill it with the keenest anguish. 

Now the sinner is given up to the full dominion of un- 
holy passions. The Spirit no longer strives. The restraints 
of Providence are withdrawn, and all the fountains of 
iniquity burst forth. Envy, pride, malice, rage, blasphemy 
tear the heart by their internal conflict, and leave no mo- 
ment of peace. 

At the same time the soul will be consumed with 
ungratihed desire, crying in vain for a drop of water to as- 
suage its burning thirst. 

The outward circumstances of the lost sinner are equally 
appalling. In scenes of the deepest gloom, presenting noth- 
ing but images of woe ; amidst ceaseless sounds of anguish 
and despair, and surrounded by companions depraved, ruined, 
and wretched like himself — the devil and his angels, and 
the spirits of lost men, loathsome and hateful in every fea- 
ture of character, mutual recriminators and tormentors. 

how dreadful is the wrath to come I It is unmiti- 
gated icrath. However distressing our situation in this life, 
there is always something to soften its horrors. Whatever 
comforts are taken away, some are still left. There are an- 
odynes to soothe our pain, medicines to relieve our sickness, 
friends to sympathize with us in our sorrows, hope to cheer 
us in our darkness. But the wrath to come has no such 
alleviations : it is poured out without mixture ; it is pain, 
and sorrow, and grief, without sympathy and without relief 

It is everlasting icrath. The God of truth, who can 
never deceive his creatures, has said, " These shall go away 
into everlasting punishment." Matt. 25 : 46. " The smoke 
of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever." Rev. 
14:11. "Their worm dieth not, and the fire is not 
quenched." Mark 9 : 44. Dreadful thought I Is the heart 
never to be eased of its pain ? Will the worm never cease to 
rage ? Will no ray of hope ever light up the darkness ? No, 
never. Still, as eternity rolls on its unwasting ages, the 
deep wailing of the lost will be heard uttering the bitter 
agonies of despair. When millions of years shall have 



4 THE WRATH TO COME. 

passed, and yet millions upon millions more, it will still be 
%vrath to come. Eternity alone measures its duration. 
Eternity, eternity ! that fearful word, how it reverberates 
through all those gloomy mansions, piercing the soul with 
unknown and inconceivable horrors I 

Such is the wrath that will come upon all the disobedi- 
ent, the impenitent, and unbelieving. 

Fellow-sinner, this is the wrath of God. turn not 
your eye from it. Say not, it is a gloomy theme, and you 
will not dwell upon it. It is better to look at it now, than 
feel it hereafter. " Knowing the terrors of the Lord," I 
would "persuade you." Take the friendly warning; it 
comes from a brother's heart ; nay, it comes from a Saviour's 
compassionate bosom : " Flee from the vnrath to come." 

Noiv it may be escaped. blessed news I God has 
provided " a refuge from the storm, a covert from the tem- 
pest." A Saviour's blood has been spilt to atone for sin, 
and open the gate of heaven to returning sinners. His arms, 
his heart, are open to receive you. Hear how he invites 
you : " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest." " Him that cometh unto me, I 
will in no wise cast out." 

How he reasons and expostulates with you : " Come, 
and let us reason together : though your sins be as scarlet, 
they shall be white as snow." " Turn ye, turn ye from your 
evil ways ; for why will ye die ?" 

0, fellow-sinner, listen to that voice. Take shelter in 
those compassionate arms. What detains you ? Why do you 
hesitate ? Will you be so unwise as to part with the ever- 
lasting glories of heaven for the few fleeting joys of earth, 
followed by endless pain ? 0, who can dwell with devour- 
ing flames ; wdth everlasting burnings ? 

But you hope to escape. Yes, you mean to " flee from 
the wrath to come." So did thousands who now feel it and 
will feel it for ever. It is not safe to defer. " This nigJit 
thy soul may be required of thee." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Wo. 437. 

THE NEW YEAE. 



"MiLLioiss of money for an inch of time," cried Eliza- 
beth, the gifted but vain and ambitious queen of England, 
on her dying bed. Unhappy woman I — reclining upon a royal 
couch, with three thousand dresses in her wardrobe, a king- 
dom upon which the sun never sets at her feet — all is now 
valueless, and she shrieks in anguish, and shrieks in vain, 
for a single " inch of time." She had enjoyed threescore and 
ten years. Like too many among us, she had so devoted 
them to wealth, to pleasure, to pride and ambition, that her 
whole preparation for eternity w^as crowded into her final 
moments ; and hence she who had wasted more than half a 
century, would now barter millions for an " inch of time." 

The last year has sent to Heaven's chancery its record 
of human conduct, and gone to mingle with a past eternity. 
" It has done the errand of its destiny, and will return no 
more." 

Pilgrim to eternity, prone as you may be to religious 
apathy — wanderer as you may be from the path of rectitude 
and salvation — bewildered and fascinated by the excitements 
and temptations of life — urged on by the power of evil habits 
and the influence of evil example — we ask you to pause on 
the line which separates the past from the future, that you 
may commune with your condition, your character, your 
obligations, and your destiny. 

Do you ever think seriously ? What time more proper 
for reflection than the closing of a year ? It is a complete 
period. It is short enough to have its scenes remembered : 
it is long enough to take a startling portion from human 
life. It has something of the solemnity of the end of life. 
It is a miniature judgment-hour, when we may summon 
ourselves before conscience, receive its verdict, and if need 
be, repent and reform. 



2 THE NEW YEAR. 

" 'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, 
And ask them what report they bore to heaven." 

Have you ever reflected on the preciousness of time ? 
Its swiftness eludes the eye. Its footsteps are noiseless as 
the tread of angels. It is murdered not by violence and set 
purpose, but simply by neglect. It utters no cry to startle 
its abusers. It seems to be obsequious — lending its hours to 
every purpose of idleness, of folly, of sensuality, of avarice, 
of ambition, and impiety. 

But with all this seeming imbecility, its wdngs never 
tire, and its course is never backward. With energy irre- 
sistible, it moves the whole mass of the living " to the pale 
nations of the dead." With its resistless and rapid wings, it 
annually sweeps twenty millions from this world of mercy 
and probation, into the shoreless ocean and the unchanging 
destinies of eternity. If you " take no note of time," it takes 
note of you. The seed sown, by the use or abuse of each 
flying moment, you are to reap in joy or sorrow on the plains 
of heaven or of hell. As time is the period in which, 
through repentance towards God and faith in Jesus Christ, 
you are to avail yourself of offered salvation, its improvement 
is priceless as heaven — its perversion fearful as eternal woe. 

You have around you a beautiful world, showing in every 
part the wisdom, the poAver, and beneficence of God. The 
year has presented the bloom and fragrance of spring, the 
advancing maturity of summer, the fruits of autumn, and 
the cheerful fireside of winter. The seasons have each 
brought rich gifts. But all these blessings have been in 
vam, if you have wasted your time or misimproved your 
rehgious privileges. 

You have had health in your habitation ; loved ones 
have clustered around your table, increasing wdiile they 
shared your joys. Your plans have prospered, and you close 
the year, it may be, with augmented treasures. But if you 
have improved no time religiously, all these blessings have 
come in vain. Not a single joy have you embalmed for im- 
mortality. 



THE NEW YEAR. 3 

God has invested you with noble powers of mind. You 
have an understanding to grasp, and hold, and improve truth. 
You have memory to call up the past, and imagination to 
explore the future. You have deep and strong affections to 
pour out currents of love. You have the elements of eternal 
progress in knowledge and enjoyment. But every fibre of 
your soul is linked to moments of time, and if you abuse 
these moments they will thrill the soul with anguish. To 
turn against you the elements of your own immortal nature, 
you have only to kill time. 

There is in the universe a great God. He is the light, 
the hope, the refuge, the joy of his obedient subjects. Time 
is the only period allotted for securing his favor, and if you 
abuse time, better for you if there were no God — ^better for 
you if the universe were a silent and hopeless desolation. 

Jesus Christ, by subjecting his own body to the agonies 
of the cross, has opened a blood-sprinkled way from earth to 
heaven, " whose ever-during golden gates" he has unbarred 
to lost wanderers. The Holy Ghost has descended, to be the 
Sanctifier, the pilot, and the guard of the weary pilgrim to 
his home in the skies. But if you improve no time relig- 
iously, you render ineffectual all these sublime and beneficent 
agencies for your salvation. 

Your Maker has unveiled to your vision the world of 
woe ; and stationed ministers, pious friends, Bibles, Tracts, 
your own conscience — a thousand sentinels, to bid you flee 
from the wrath to -come. During the year you have enjoyed 
fifty-two Sabbaths — all designed and adapted to awake 
thoughtfulness and furnish Jacilities to escape ruin. But if 
you have abused time, you have made a steady, unbroken 
death-march of another year towards the unblest realms of 
eternal despair. 

There is a heaven which you are invited to enter. No 
cheek there is pale with apprehension — no eye is moistened 
with a tear. There is no death there, and no more pain. 
Your lips might catch and echo the melodies of that better 
world. But live for years to come as you have for the year 
gone by, in the abuse of time, and heaven will exist to you 



4 THE NEW YEAR. 

as the strong but distant vessel exists to the drowning sailor — 
the tantahzing vision of good for ever lost. 

The appeal is now made to your conscience. Have you, 
during the past year, so wasted time as to religious improve- 
ment, that every temporal blessing, every warning and invi- 
tation of the Gospel, and every thing holy and good in the 
universe, exists to you in vain ? 

Pause, then, on the threshold of a new year. Your con- 
dition is most perilous, but not hopeless. Live as j^ou have 
lived, and all is lost. But here is a precious moment of pro- 
bation not yet wasted. Blind Bartimeus occupied the mo- 
ment when Jesus passed by in prayer, and the light of 
heaven broke in on his world of darkness. The dying thief 
improved a few brief moments in confession and prayer to 
Jesus, and for eighteen centuries has dwelt in the paradise 
of God. Use the present moment for rejientance of sin, for 
application to the blood of the cross ; for subjecting your 
heart to the Holy Spirit, and your will to the control of truth 
and duty ; and, with a new year, you have opened before 
you a new, a tranquil, a happy life, and a glorious immor- 
taUty. 

It may be hard to think seriously, but it will be harder 
to bear the scorpion stings of conscience on your death-bed, 
and throughout eternity. It may be hard to break from 
your evil habits and your wicked companions ; but it will be 
harder to follow them to the gates of eternal death. It is 
easy to kill time ; but remember, the waste of time is the 
murder of the soul. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]\o. 438< 



THE 



WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 



A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



BY A LAYMAN. 




In the north of Ireland there lived an honest, industrious 

man by the name of M . He was a good husband, a 

tender father, a kind neighbor ; and having had a better edu- 
cation than at that time was common, he was careful to give 
his children the advantages of good schools. By diligence, 
sobriety, and the blessing of God, he extended his business, 
which was that of a linen w^eaver, until he had in his em- 
ployment at one time fifteen journej-men. 
VOL. XI. 22 



2 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

After some years the linen-trade greatly declined, partly 
in consequence of the introduction of cotton fabrics; and 
finding his property so much reduced that he could not sup- 
port his large family at his trade, he was led to embark 
with them for America. This he did with high-raised expec- 
tations ; and with joyful heart he saw his wife and nine 
blooming children land in the new world, of which his 
countrymen had sent home glowing accounts ; but here he 
was doomed to experience sad disappointments, as have 
many others. 'No employment could be had in wearing 
linen ; but his good character and intelligence, together with 
his honest face, gained the favor of a merchant, who gave 
him employment as porter in his store on the wharf, where 
he continued, and was much esteemed for several years, 
until his last sickness and death. 

Finding that the wages of his new employment would 
not support his large family, he obtained situations in re- 
spectable families for his elder daughters, while his sons 
went to sea. Being, active and zealous, he was soon con- 
spicuous among his Cathohc brethren in the city where he 
lived. He was strict in his attention to all the rites and 
ceremonies of that communion, liberal according to his abil- 
ity, fond of his children, and faithful in instructing them iu 
all the articles of the Romish church. None doubted his 
morality ; and those of his faith considered him a pattern of 
piety. Being of a consumptive habit, after a few years he 
sickened and died. In quick succession four of his children 
followed him to the grave, one by a fall from the masthead 
of a vessel, and three by consumption. 

The physician who attended the family Avas a pious 
man, and had become much interested in some of them, and 
especially in the father during his life, and afterwards in his 
two daughters, Betsey and Mary, who had both embraced 
the Protestant faith. Mary, at the time of which we are 
speaking, had been for several weeks out of health, and had 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 3 

left her situation and returned to her mother's dwelling, 
where she was given over by her physician as in a settled 
consumption. 

The physician, during one of his visits in my family, 
mentioned that the sick one was living wdth her mother, 
not very remote from my dwelling, and he gave an interest- 
ing account of her, and of her mother's opposition to her 
religion, which he said had carried her so far that she would 
not admit her daughter's pastor or the officers of the church 
to visit the sufferer, but had threatened them, if they pre- 
sumed to cross her threshold, with personal violence. He 
expressed a hope, that I would try to supply the Avants of 
his patient, if she was at any time suffering, but he doubted 
if I should be allowed to see her. 

A lady who was passing the day with us, on hearing 
his narration, readily undertook the labor of love in going 
immediately to the residence of the mother ; and on men- 
tioning the name of the physician, she was readily admitted 
to the sick chamber. The account she brought back was, 
that she found Mary M a most interestmg young wo- 
man, of modest manners, extremely neat in her person and 
in her chamber, apparently of ardent, yet unassuming piety, 
fully aware of her situation, but sustained by a firm Chris- 
tian faith, with an unwavering trust in the merits of Christ, 
which rendered her cheerful, submissive, and happy. On 
conversing with Mary's mother, the lady found they were 
in immediate want of nothing but fuel. This article was 
supplied, with some other comforts, which were gratefully 
received. 

After calling several times to make inquiries concerning 
the sick daughter, the mother asked if I would like to see 
her ; and on my expressing a desire to do so, she introduced 
me to her as the person who had taken such an interest in 
her welfare. 

Mary was sitting in an arm-chair, supported by pillows ; 



4 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

her eyes were mild, but had the peculiar lustre which at- 
tends consumption. Her cheek had that usual attendant of 
this disorder, a bright, hectic flush ; while her temples and 
forehead were white as marble. She extended her hand to 
me, and thanked me for the kind interest I had taken in one 
who was a stranger. Every thing about her and her room 
was neat, though very plain, giving indications of natural 
refinement. She had for a companion and attendant her 
sister Betsey, who, on hearing of Mary's illness, had left her 
place, and hastened home to watch over and nurse her be- 
loved sister, endeared to her not only by the ties of nature, 
but also by being her sister in the Lord, as both were con- 
verts, and had together joined the same church. 

Their mother gave me only time to ask a few questions 
before she broke out in her complaints of the loss of proper- 
ty, and the death of her husband and four children since her 
arrival in the country. She thought God had dealt hardly 
with her, and almost accused him of injustice in thus afflict- 
ing her. I attempted to show her that all his dealings with 
her were designed to call off her thoughts from this world, 
and would, if she made a right improvement of them, fit her 
for heaven, where she would find her lost ones, if they had 
died his children. Fearing that she would receive what I 
might say with prejudice, and that I could make no lasting 
impression on her mind, I withdrew. 

On two or three following visits I was obliged to listen 
to similar murmurs against Providence, and at length I took 
occasion to relate to her the story of a Avidow, whose only 
son had grown up a fine young man, and was the solace and 
stay of his only parent, when he was thrown from a horse, 
and brought home to expire in his mother's arms. Without 
a murmur she meekly said, " The Lord saw that I needed 
a great deal of correction, and he has taken the desire of my 
eyes from me with a stroke ; blessed be his holy name, he 
has only taken what he had lent me." 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 5 

The mother of Mary M , either from not relishmg 

such sentiments, or from some other cause, seldom made 
any stay afterwards in her daughter's chamber while I was 
there, but suffered me to converse with her without inter- 
ruption, which I was earnestly desirous of doing. I found 
her to be a young woman of devoted piety, sustained by a 
cheerful hope and lively faith, wholly resigned to the will 
of God, not expecting, nor apparently wishing to recover ; 
nor do I now recollect that she at any subsequent time made 
any allusion to getting well. Her whole liioughts were 
upon things of another and brighter world, for which she 
daily was growing in meetness. 

As Mary was unable, in her dark chamber, to read the 
fine print of her Bible, she was supplied with the Testa- 
ment in large type, also wirth Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress 
and Tracts, in reading and hearing which she took great 
delight. She ever spoke with deep feeling of the goodness 
of her heavenly Father to her, in sustaining her during her 
sleepless nights, and enabling her to have delightful medita- 
tions on the precious promises contained in his word. She 
never complained of suffering of any kind. One day when 
asked if she rested well, her countenance beamed with rap- 
ture as she spoke of her secret communion with the Saviour 
during her vv^akeful hours the preceding night, and she 
seemed to have had a foretaste of the joys of heaven. 

On my expressing a desire to be made acquainted with 
the time and manner of her conversion from Romanism, she 
gave me, as her strength permitted, the following history of 
herself 

" I was educated in the strict observance of the forms 
and practices of the Roman Catholic religion, which I had 
always been taught and fully believed to be the only true 
faith. I attended church punctually, was well instructed 
in my Catechism and Missal, was regular at my confessions, 
VOL. XI. 22* 



6 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

at mass, on holy days, and strict in observing our fasts ; 
thus I was called by others, and really thought myself to be 
a very pious girl, the favorite of her vi'hom we ignorantly 
worshipped, and after whom I was named — the ' Holy 
Mary,' ' the Mother of God.' 

" But my religion was all outward ; my heart was hard 
and proud, and my temper easily roused ; so that with all 
tliis fair outside, 1 knew nothing of the religion of the Bible, 
having never read it, or understood that it demanded a 
change of heart ; much less did I feel that I was a simier in 
the sight of God, or miderstand that I could not enter 
heaven unless I Avas ' born again ' by the renewing of the 
Holy Spirit. I was contented in my ignorance, as Catholics 
generally are, with outward observaiwes, and fully believed, 
because our priests told us so, that I was in the path to 
heaven. Had not my heavenly Father had compassion on 
me, I should have lived and died ignorant of the only way 
to be saved, through faith in my precious Saviour's atonmg 
blood. 

" Where I lived, after leaving my father, the Bible was 
daily read at family prayers, which I sometimes attended ; 
but what I heard made no impression on my mind, as I 
had always been told it was not a book for Catholics, they 
being sure of salvation, and they only. One day I had a 
quarrel with one of the females in the house, and was high- 
ly provoked with her for telling me I was a very ivicked 
girl — a term which had never been applied to me before. 
In a day or two afterwards, the same woman was reading 
her Bible ; and when I found her with it, she was shedding 
tears, and apparently in much distress. I asked her what 
ailed her, and never shall I forget her answer. It was, ' 
Mar}', I am a great sinner, and I fear my soul will be lost 
for ever.' Although I had been highly provoked at her for 
calling me a wicked girl, yet when she confessed that she 
was also wicked, it astonished me beyond measure. I knew 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 7 

her to be more amiable than I was, and if she was such a 
sinner, what must I be, I asked myself. 

" I could not rest until I took a Bible into my room and 
examined it : this I continued from day to day, finding such 
passages as, ' Ye must be born again,' John 3:7; ' Christ 
Jesus came into the world to save sinners,' 1 Tim. 1:15; 
' Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye 
shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven,' Matt. 18:3; 
'And were by nature the children of wrath, even as others.' 
Eph, 2:3. The Bible also told me, that unless I repented 
of my sins, and believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, I could 
not be saved. Having never done this, I was greatly dis- 
tressed, and went home to my father and told him I was 
unhappy, and was anxious for the salvation of my soul. 
But although he was esteemed a very good man, and a rigid 
Catholic, he could only send me to the priest to confess, for 
he knew nothing of the new birth, or of the gospel way of 
salvation. 

" The priest was equally ignorant ; and finding I had no 
deadly sins to confess, he made light of my distress, and told 
me I was a good Catholic, and had nothing to fear, but was 
sure of heaven. Still, I was oppressed with a load which 
only grew heavier and heavier, and as he saw I was anxious 
for relief, he at last told me, if I washed it, I could go into 
the convent, and become a holy nun. 

" Feeling there was something to be done, I asked my 
parents' consent, that I might enter the convent. They 
gave permission, and soon after, I entered upon what they 
called the life of a noviciate, intending to become one of the 
holy sisters ; but I found nothing there to satisfy the desires 
of my soul — all was cold, formal, and heartless. Neither 
the conversation or conduct of the inmates gave me any 
satisfaction, and I soon obtained permission to leave them 
and return to my former place. I now began to search the 
Bible, and as there directed, I prayed to be guided aright, 



8 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

and prayed thus for a long time ; but having no one to guide 
or counsel me, I became much discouraged ; M^hen one day I 
was reading the 16th chapter of Acts, and came, to where 
the jailer ' sprang in, and came trembling, and said to Paul 
and Silas, Sirs, what must I do to be saved ? and they 
said. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt he 
saved' 

"When I read that, and saw how easy it was to obey 
this command, I threw myself at the feet of my blessed 
Saviour, and trust I gave him my whole heart. Immedi- 
ately my distress was gone, and I was filled with peace 
and joy. I have since had evidence that God is faithful to 
all his promises. My confidence is firm, my hope unfading — 
a blessed reality. I know in whom I have believed. I 
went once, and but once more to the Catholic church, to 
please my father. It was at the consecration of the bishop. 
But now the idle ceremonies, the pomp, the incense, the 
bells, all were disgusting ; and I left that church, never more 
to return to it. 

" I then attended the meeting of the Rev. Dr. S , 

and some time after, offered myself for admission to his 
church, together Avith my sister Betsey, who, like me, had 
become pious. We told our father of the change of our 
views, which he was already aware of; but when Ave in- 
formed him that we were about renouncing the faith in 
which we had been born, he could not suppress his feelings, 
but ordered us to go to the priest, and inform him of our 
apostasy, and give him an opportunity to win us back. 
We went accordingly, and my sister not being so timid as I 
was, spoke for us both. He tried to alarm us, by assuring 
us there was no salvation out of the Roman Catholic church. 
Finding our purpose unalterable, he began to threaten us, 
not with punishment here, but hereafter. He told us ' we 
should be damned, if we were apostates.' We assured him 
that w-e relied on the promises of God to all who truly re- 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 9 

pented of their sins, and were satisfied that we were in the 
right path, and had come by the command of our father, to 
take leave of him and of the church. He furiously said, ' If 
you do leave the true church, and join the heretics, I would 
not go the length of a whiplash to save you from damnation.' 

" Shocked and grieved, we waited to hear no more from 
him, who had always, until that interview, treated us kind- 
ly. Our father was still bitterly opposed to our joining 
another church, and went so far as to threaten us when he 
knew we were to be baptized, declaring he would raise a 
body of men and rescue us, as he called it ; but his employ- 
er and others told him he would get himself into trouble, 
and would be taken up for breaking the law, if he commit- 
ted any such act of violence. 

" Finding afterwards that we were still his affectionate 
daughters, and seeing us happy, his heart relented, so that 
if he could not approve of what we had done, he treated us 
kindly ; and when he was in his last lingering sickness, all 
his former affection for us returned, and, after reading the 
Bible with great attention, he gave our mother a strict 
charge never to molest us on account of our religion." 

Being greatly interested in this statement, and wishing 
that such ardent and glowing piety should be witnessed by 
some other individual who would give an account of it to 
the world, I took with me, one Sabbath-day, a young clergy- 
man to whom I had given many of the foregoing particu- 
lars ; but we were met by the mother of Mary, and when I 
introduced my friend as one who had come by my request 
to see her daughter, she eagerly asked, " Is he a priest ?" I 
answered, " He is a minister." " Then he shall not go into 
her room, for she refuses to see my priest when I wish to 
have him come and anoint her with holy oil ; and if she 
will not see my priest, she shall see no other." Finding her 
inflexible, we retired. 



10 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

As no clergyman could gain access to her, and perceiv- 
ing an anxiety in her countenance, I one day asked her if 
she wished me to pray with her. She said, " yes, I have 
long wished it, but did not know that it was proper to ask 
the favor." Soon after this, I called one Saturday evening, 
and found she had grown so feeble that she had scarcely 
been able to sit up five minutes at a time during the week. 
Her mind was still miclouded, and she was descending into 
the dark valley, leaning upon Him who has authorized all 
such to say, " When my father and my mother forsake me, 
then the Lord will take me up." Psalm 27 : 10. I asked 
her if I should pray with her. She desired it, and I com- 
mended her to the Shepherd of Israel ; but soon the door 
was thrown open and shut again with great violence — this 
was again and again repeated ; and when I rose, I saw her 
mother standing by the door, with her arms extended, her 
countenance filled with rage, her eyes almost starting from 
their sockets, her fists clenched ; and looking furiously upon 
her feeble, dying daughter, she cried out in a loud voice, 
"Get out of my house — it shall hold you no longer; you 
are no daughter of mine, for you have abandoned your re- 
ligion, you have quitted the holy church, you have given up 
your God, refused to see the priest, and my house shall 
shelter you no longer. You wanted to be a nun, did you ?" 
she added, pointing at her with derision. "Now your 
bones will lie unburied, for they can never get into the holy 
ground." 

I approached tliis furious woman, and mildly said to 
her, " l{ you are ofiended with any one, it should be with 
me." 

" No, you are the poor widow's friend," she replied. 

I then asked her, " Has this daughter ever been undutiful 
to you ?" 

" No," she replied ; " except about her religion she 
always obeyed me in every thing." 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. H 

" And have you, then, tried to get her back to your re- 
ligion ?" 

" Yes," was the reply, " I have been at her every day, 
and she absolutely refuses even to see my priest." 

"Is it for this that you threaten to turn your dutiful, 
affectionate daughter from your doors in the depth of win- 
ter?" 

" Yes," she violently shouted ; " she is an apostate, and 
I disown her." 

" Is it for following the dictates of her conscience, that 
you treat your own daughter as if she was the vilest of the 
vile ; and do you dare have it, said, that you were such a 
monster as to turn her from your doors ?" 

She replied, "Go she must — my home shall hold her 
no longer. And never will your soul," turning to her daugh- 
ter, " reach purgatory, if you despise the holy Catholic re- 
ligion." 

" If her soul will never reach what you call purgatory," 
I replied, " it will, when it is released from her body, go to 
Abraham's bosom ; and if you ever reach heaven, I have no 
doubt but you will see Mary an angel there." 

The mother then left the room in great agitation, and I 
followed her, and asked if it was her determination to turn 
her daughter out of doors. She assured me that it was. I 
then informed her, that three ladies in the country had that 
very day sent me one hundred dollars, with which to take a 
free bed at the hospital for the indigent and virtuous sick in 
that severe winter. I added, " If you will promise me that 
you will not speak harshly again to her, I will, early in the 
coming week, make arrangements to get Mary to the hos- 
pital." She solemnly promised to do so no more, if I would 
engage to remove her. 

I went back to the chamber where the sick one lay, and 
finding her trembling with agitation, I asked her "if she 
was willing to go to the hospital." " yes," was her reply, 



12 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

" do let me go there ; for when my mother gets so excited, 
it agitates me so that I can get no sleep all night, and now 
I am so weak I cannot bear it." 

Sm'prised, I asked if her mother had ever treated her 
so before. "Yes, she does it almost every day," was her 
answer. 

" Why, then," I asked, " have you never informed me of 
it before?" " She is ony tiiother,'' Avas the reply. And it 
spoke the feelings of this delicate, faithful disciple most elo- 
quently. Long had she endured the rage of her parent, and 
thus might have gone doAvn to her grave with the secret in 
her owai breast, if it had not been for the occasion which 
aroused all the passions of her poor bigoted parent. Mary 
preferred suffering in silence to exposing her mother's vio- 
lence to another. When reviled, she, like her blessed Mas- 
ter, answered not again. 

As I left the house, the elements w^ere raging vvdthout, 
and a furious snow-storm had set in, wliich continued two 
or three days, and blocked the streets so much that it was 
the middle of the week before the removal could take place. 
I called previously, to learn if the mother relented, but she 
continued inflexible. I then saw the medical superintendent 
of the hospital, but he objected to receiving a person in the 
last stages of a decline, and said the hospital was intended 
to cure persons, and not as a resort for those who were 
dropping into the grave ; but on my stating the very pecu- 
liar circumstances attending this case, and that the young 
woman, being ordered out of her mother's house, must go 
somewhere to die, he gave way, after expressing his great 
surprise that such an event should have occurred in this 
land, and that any mother could so steel her heart against 
her amiable, virtuous daughter, and exhibit all this violence 
only on account of her religion. In consideration of such 
unnatural conduct, he said she should be admitted, although 
it was asrainst the rules of the institution to receive those to 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 13 

whom they could not hope to afford permanent relief. It 
may here be remarked, that this hospital is a mere private 
establishment for the relief and cure of the sick and wound- 
ed, and not a general hospital for all Avho are diseased. For 
these latter cases a public institution has been established, 
where good accommodation is provided at the expense of the 
city for all who are destitute. 

As soon as the storm ceased and the snow was levelled, 
arrangements were made for the removal of Mary. A car- 
riage was sent by Mrs. P., with whom she had lived, and a 
pious member of my family was to attend her and her sis- 
ter ; but at the time preparations were making, the gentle- 
man in whose house she became pious, came to the door, 
and learning that the feeble girl was going to the hospital, 
he took her up kindly, virapped in blankets, and placed her 
in the carriage, supporting her there in his arms. She was 
with difficulty kept from fainting by the way ; but after she 
had reposed a day or two, so tranquil was every thing around 
her, that she revived, and was better for a few days. 

Her mother called to see her but once, and then left a 
charge with Betsey to let her know when Mary was dying ; 
but to this Mary objected, as the impression of the dreadful 
scenes she had passed through, probably had made her 
unwilling to be agitated by her mother's violence in her last 
moments. 

I saw her occasionally, and her minister and other 
Christian friends could then also visit her. She continued 
to enjoy sweet peace. One morning I called, and perceiving 
that her life was drawing to a close, I asked her if she was 
sensible that her hours were almost numbered, and if she 
could still look to the Saviour with confidence and hope. 
She said, " I lay awake many hours last night, and had 
delightful contemplations on the character and condescension 
of my precious Saviour." 

In the evening I called again, and ibund that life was 

VOL. x[. 23 



14 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

fast ebbing. She desired me to pray with her, and I asked 
what petition she wished to have presented. "That I may 
glorify God in dying, and not be left to complain of my great 
bodily sufferings," she replied. I commended her to the 
Saviour whom she loved, and bade her farewell, with exalt- 
ed views of the goodness of God in sustaining this young 
disciple until she had but one step more to take ere she 
planted her feet on the shores of the heavenly Canaan. 

The next morning information was sent me from the 
hospital, that she was released from all pain. I called on 
her mother, to inform her of the event, and to ask her where 
she wished to have her body placed, and when she would 
like to have the funeral. She said, " You told Msny you 
would see her buried with your family ;" and this recalled 
to my mind the occurrences of the evening when her moth- 
er's violence broke out in my presence. I had then told 
Mary I would take care of her body after her death, and 
have it placed by the side of my children in the beautiful 

cemetery at , which promise was sacredly kept ; and 

there will her remains repose until the morning of the res- 
urrection. 

On reaching the hospital, there was a placid smile upon 
the countenance of this departed child of God. Her sister 
informed me, that soon after I left her, Mary fell asleep, and 
it was so profound when her pastor called in the evening, 
that his prayer at her bedside did not arouse, nor could she 
awake her. 

They thought it the sleep of death, but afterwards she 
called out in a loud voice, " Betsey, I am going, I am going; 
praise the Lord." She then sung in her clear, sweet voice, 
the first stanza of that beautiful hymn, 

Why should we start, and fear to die ? 

What timorous worms we mortals are ! 
Death is the gate of endless joy, 

And yet we dread to enter there. 



THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 15 

Her voice then sunk almost to a w^hisper, and she went 
through the entire hymn, closing with 

Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are ; 
While on his breast I lean my head, 

And breathe my life out sweetly there. 

And with these precious words on her lips, her spirit, 
released from its frail tenement, took its upward flight, to 
see and adore Him whom her soul loved, and who had 
washed her in his own precious blood, to dwell for ever 
where " the wicked cease from troubling, and the wear)' are 
at rest." 

One occurrence connected with her mother's ordering 
her out of her house, should not be omitted. It was on Sat- 
urday evening, and the following Monday Mrs. M. dressed 
herself as she usually did when she visited her priest, and 
was absent some hours. When she returned, she fell upon 
her knees by Mary's bedside, and said, " Now, my child, I 
have one last request to make of you, and do not deny your 
mother's wishes. Only consent to see my priest, and con- 
fess to him, and you shall never leave my house. I will 
work to support you, if I wear my fingers oft^ in doing it ; 
and in the spring, I will take you to your dear native air in 
Ireland, and that will restore you, and then we shall all be 
happy." 

To this Mary replied, " Mother, why do you make such 
a request? the thing you ask is impossible." To this her 
mother said, " No one but you, and I, and the priest, shall 
know any thing about it." Mary, in a firm tone, said, 
" Mother, my religion is dearer to me than life, and I would 
not give up my peace of mind for worlds. Mother, never, I 
beseech you, make such a request of me again." " Then 
you shall go ofi^as soon as you can be got out of my house." 
This mother appeared not to want the common feelings of 



16 THE WEAVER'S DAUGHTER. 

our nature, but to be led blindfold by a superior power act- 
ing out of sight, and dictating to her how to proceed with 
her heretical daughter, so as to bring her back, if possible, 
to the bosom of her mother church. Very similar treatment 
of Catholics who become pious, is not uncommon in our 
land, as we have ample evidence ; and we ought deeply to 
sympathize with them in their persecutions for conscience' 
sake. 

In reflecting on the natural timidity of this young Chris- 
tian, and her unprotected situation under the roof of her 
mother, who had such strong passions and was so very big- 
oted, and driven on, as it seemed, by her priest, it then and 
has since appeared that I was led there by the providence 
of God, to protect her from attempts which might, and prob- 
ably would have been made upon her when she was too 
weak to resist them ; and thus it might have been given out, 
that Mary M. recanted before her death and went back to 
her former faith, and died in the communion of the Romish 
church. Appearances indicated that this was a settled plan, 
which, if it was foi-med, was frustrated, and she was ena- 
bled, with her dying breath, to testify to the love and grace 
of Him in whom her soul trusted as the "one Mediator 
between God and man." 



JVo. 439. 

CONSECRATION TO CHRIST. 



Let me suppose that you are alone with God ; that you 
have knelt or prostrated yourself before him, and are earnest- 
ly desirous of making an entire consecration of all that you 
have and are to his service. 

You must soon stand in the immediate pre&ence of God. 
You must soon meet him face to face, and see him eye to 
eye. Prepared or unprepared, you must meet him. Think 
of the priceless worth of your soul. Worlds cannot repay 
its loss. Can you measure eternity ? Soon you must enter 
upon its endless joys or woes. Neglect not, then, the inter- 
ests of your soul for one hour. 

Think of God's forbearance and your own guilt. You 
have been reckless of the interests of your immortal soul, 
you have set at naught the authority of Crod, you have tram- 
pled under foot the blood of Christ, you have resisted the 
Holy Spirit, by your rejection of the offers of salvation. 0, 
sinner, it is because you are in the hands of God, and not 
man, that your doom is not eternally sealed. Presume upon 
his forbearance no longer, for God's word has said, " He 
that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall sudden- 
ly be destroyed, and that without remedy." Flee without 
delay to Christ. Hear his gracious invitation : " Him that 
cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." how melt- 
ing that invitation. Will you give up yourself to that Sav- 
iour who has given himself for you ? Will you live for him 
who died for you ? Will you accept salvation upon the 
terms of the Bible ? " Be not deceived." " God cannot be 
mocked." Many, while standing before their final Judge, 
will say, "Lord, Lord, open unto us;" but he will answer, 
" I never knew you ; depart from me, ye that work ini- 
quity." 

Do you ask, how can I know whether I shall be accept- 
ed or rejected, when I stand before the bar of God ? In 
reply, permit me to ask you some questions, founded on the 
word of God, that unfold the principles on which your eter 
nal destiny will then be decided. 
VOL. XI. 23* 



2 CONSECRATION TO CHRIST. 

Do you view yourself to be a lost sinner, justly condemned 
by the law of God ; and have you been led to see not only 
that you have sinned in outward acts, but that your thoughts 
and affections have been estranged from God ; and that if 
you should receive the reward due to your sin, you must be 
sent to eternal punishment ? 

Do you feel that your greatest sin is unbelief, which has 
led you, dm^ing your whole life, to reject Christ ? 

Do you desire to be saved, not only from the pmiishment 
due to your sin, but also from its power and pollution? 

Is it your firm resolution, made in the fear of God and 
m reliance on him, to forsake all known sin, all vain amuse- 
ments, all sinful indulgences, the pursuit of all unrighteous 
gains, and all sinful conformity to the fashions, customs, and 
maxims of the world, although in doing so, you may make 
a sacrifice of property, and expose yourself to the scoffs, or 
even the persecutions of the world ? 

Do you resolve to bridle your tongue and curb your pas- 
sions, not to render " evil for evil, or railing for railing," but 
to imitate the example of Christ under the infliction of in- 
juries ? 

Do you resolve, in every trial or affliction arising from 
loss of property, health, or friends, or from unjust assaults 
upon your character, to put your confidence in God, to be 
submissive to his will, and to miprove the event for your 
own spiritual good ? 

Do you resolve to watch and pray daily, that you may 
not be led into temptation, and that you may be aided by 
the Holy Spirit in the performance of every duty, and guided 
by his wisdom in all your ways ? 

Do you rely upon the Holy Spirit to renew and sanctify 
your heart, to aid your supplications, to comfort you in all 
your spiritual trials, and to guide you into all truth ? 

Do you adopt the word of God as the only rule of faith 
and practice, resolving to study it diligently and daily, to 
see whether your actions, sentiments, and all the movements 
of your heart, agree with what it teaches ? 

Do you unreservedly and for ever consecrate yourself and 
all you have to the service of God, your bodily, mental, and 
moral powers, your time, influence, and property, so that 
you have no interest separate from his glory ? 

Do you rejoice in the privilege of committing all your 



CONSECRATION TO CHRIST. 3 

interests to the disposal of Him who has done so much for 
you, and Avho is infinite in knowledge, wisdom, power, and 
goodness ? 

Do you earnestly desire to " turn many to righteousness," 
and will you labor, diligently and prayerfully, to bring oth- 
ers to a saving knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus ; and 
will you choose your occupations for life with supreme refer- 
ence to the best interests of Christ's kingdom ? 

Do you " love your enemies ?" 

Do you exercise brotherly love towards all Christians of 
every name, whatever may be their condition in life ? 

And now are you ready to say, " These are hard sayings ; 
who can hear them?" like many who heard our Saviour 
and followed no more with him : or do you, like Peter, say, 
" Lord, to whom shall we go ? thou hast the words of eter- 
nal life?" Do you receive joyfully the gospel method of 
salvation? If so, it may strengthen your resolutions to 
draw up a covenant, and subscribe year name to it, and lay 
it up for a memorial before God to be renewed often ; or 
you can adopt the following 

FORM OF ENTERING INTO COVENANT WITH GOD. 

THOU HEART-SEARcmNG Jehovah, permit thine unwor- 
thy servant to come before thee, through Jesus Christ, to 
enter into a solemn covenant with thee to be thine for ever. 
I am unworthy to take thy holy name upon my lips, for I 
have sinned against thee. Thou Imst ever had a right to 
my perfect obedience, as my Creator and Preserver, much 
more as havmg given thy Son to die for me. But I have 
sinned in thought, in word, and in deed. My whole life has 
been one continued course of transgression. 1 have set at 
naught thine authority, rejected Christ, and resisted the 
Holy Spirit. Lord, I deserve to be banished from thy 
presence for ever. But blessed be thy holy name, that par- 
don and eternal life are offered to me through Christ. I 
cling to his cross. I desire to be cleansed by his blood, and 
clothed with his righteousness. Blessed be the Holy Spirit, 
who has convinced me of sin, and inclined my perverse heart 
to come to Christ. thou gracious Comibrter, wilt thou 
ever dAvell in my heart, to purify and sanctily me, and lead 
me into all truth, and aid me in the discharge of every duty. 



4 CONSECRATION TO CHRIST. 

Aid me especially in this dedication of myself to God the 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, to whom be equal honor and 
glory for ever. Amen. 

I do now, most unreservedly, choose thee, the Lord 
Jehovah, to be my God, my Portion, and my King. I de- 
vote to thee my body and soul, my interest in my friends, 
my property, my time, my influence, all that I have or hope 
for to all eternity. give me grace to live to thy gloiy, by 
leading a humble, watchful, prayerful life. May I be ena- 
bled to keep my desires and passions in subjection. May I 
ever feel, both in prosperity and in adversity, that I am 
thine and that thou art mine. May my confidence in thy 
promises ever remain strong. May I so abide in thee, that I 
shall be always ready for the discharge of duty. May all 
my powers of body and mind be strengthened for thy service. 
May I constantly watch for opportunities to do good ; and 
through thy blessing may I be the means of turning many 
to righteousness. And may I ever ascribe all., all the glory 
to thee. my God, what shall I render to thee for all thy 
benefits ? Had I a thousand tongues, they should all speak 
thy praise ; or had I a thousand worlds, they should all be 
thine. May I never wander from thee. May I never be 
weary of serving thee ; and when my work here on earth is 
done, may I welcome death as a kind messenger to call me 
home to thee. Then shall I be satisfied, when I see thee as 
thou art. Amen and Amen. 

When I survey the wondrous cross 
On which the Prince of glory died, 

My richest gain I count but loss, 
And pour contempt on all my pride. 

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, 
Save in the cross of Clirist, my God ; 

All the vain things that charm me most, 
I sacrifice them to his blood. 

Were the Avhole realm of nature mine. 
That were a present far too small ; 

Love so amazing, so divine, 

Demands my soul, my life, my all. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 440, 

THE 



UNANSWERABLE ARGUMENT. 



SCENE I.— THE PASTOR'S STUDY. 

** Have you conversed with our infidel and scoffing 

friend Mr. R , on the subject of religion, to-day?" 

said the venerable pastor to Mr. B , an aged neighbor. 

** I have, and at great length, but was unable to make 
the least impression upon his mind. You know that he is 
a man of extensive reading, and is master of all the ablest 
infidel writers. He regards the fortress in which he has 
intrenched himself as impregnable. You know his ready 
wit, and when he finds he cannot talk you down, he will 
laugh you down. I can say no more to him. He made 
my errand the butt of ridicule for the whole company." 

"Then you consider his case hopeless?" 

" I do, indeed. I believe him to be given over of God 
to believe a lie ; and I expect to see him fill up his cup of 
iniquity to the very brim, without repentance, and die a 
hardened and self-ruined man." 

" Shall nothing, and can nothing more be done for him ?" 
And the pastor arose, and walked the floor of his study, 
under the influence of deep agitation. 

It was now a solemn time in the conorrejration. The 
preaching of the pastor for many Sabbaths had been full of 
earnestness and power. The church was greatly quickened. 
The spirit of prayer prevailed. Many were inquiring what 
they should do to be saved. Many, too, were rejoicing in 
hope, and the whole community were moved, as with one 
silent, but mighty impulse. 

But unmoved, unconcerned, stood the infidel, amid the 
many changes of heart and mind in those around him, proud 
of his position, and confident in his strength, and able, as 
he believed himself to be, to resist every influence, human 
and divine, which might be brought to bear upon him. The 
pastor had often approached him, and had as often been 
repulsed. As a last resort, he had requested his able and 
skilful neighbor, a lawyer of piety and talents, to visit Mr. 

R , and endeavor to convince him. But it was like 

attempting to reason with the tempest, or soothe the volcano. 



2 THE UNANSWERABLE ARGUMENT. 

SCENE n.— THE CHRISTIAN'S CLOSET. 

There was a fire blazing upon the hearth in that little 
room. The wind was howling without, the snow was 
whirled in eddies, and was swept with violence against the 
casement. It was a cold night in January. In that secret 
and retired chamber, where none but God could hear, was 
poured out a voice from a burdened soul. The aged Chris- 
tian was upon his knees. His bosom heaved with emotion. 
His soul was in agony. That voice of prayer was con- 
tinued at intervals through the livelong night. In that 
room was a wrestling like that of Jacob. There was a pre- 
vailing like that of Israel. It was a pleading with the Most 
High for an unwonted display of his power and grace, with 
the confidence that nothing was too hard for the Almighty. 
It was a night of prayer, of entreaty, of importunity. It 
was prayer, as a man would pray for the life of a friend, 
who was on the eve of execution. 

SCENE IIL-THE PRAYER-MEETING. 

The meeting was still and solemn as eternity. The house 
was crowded to its utmost capacity. It was a cheerful 
evening, and the astrals threw their mellow light over the 
dense assembly. Now the song of praise resounds from 
all parts of the room, and there is a heart in the utterance 
which belongs not to other times. Now the voice of one 
and another ascends in prayer, and such prayer is seldom 
heard except in the time of genuine revivals of religion. 
The silent tear steals down many a cheek. The almost 
inaudible sigh escapes from many a bosom. An intense 
interest rests on every counienance, and the voice of prayer 
is the voice of all. One after another arises, and tells the 
listening company what " the Lord has done for his soul." 

There stands Mr. R , once the infidel — now the humble 

believer in Jesus. He is clothed in a new spirit. His face 
shines as did the face of Moses when he had seen God face 
to face. He is a new creature in Christ Jesus. 

" I stand," said Mr. R , " to tell you the story of 

my conversion." His lips trembled slightly as he spoke, 
and his bosom heaved with suppressed emotion. " I am 
as a brand plucked out of the burning. The change in me 
is an astonishment to myself; and all brought about by 
the grace of God, and that unanswerable argument. It 



THE UNANSWERABLE ARGUMENT. 3 

was a cold morning in January, and I had just begun my 
labor at the anvil in my shop, when I looked out and saw 

Mr. B approaching. He dismounted quickly, and 

entered. As he drew near, I saw he was agitated. His 
look was full of earnestness. His eyes were bedimmed 
with tears. He took me by the hand. His breast heaved 
with emotion, and with indescribable tenderness he said, 

* Mr. R , I am greatly concerned for your salvation — 

greatly concerned for your salvation,' and he burst into 
tears. He stood with my hand grasped in his. He struggled 
to regain self-possession. He often essayed to speak, but 
not a word could he utter ; and finding that he could say 
no more, he turned, went out of the shop, got on his horse, 
and rode slowly away. 

" * Greatly concerned for my salvation,' said I, audibly, 
and I stood and forgot to bring my hammer down. There 
I stood with it upraised — 'greatly concerned for my salva- 
tion' Here is a new argument for the truth of religion, 
which I have never heard before, and which I know not 
how to answer. Had the aged man reasoned with me, I 
could have confounded him ; but here is no threadbare 
argument for the truth of religion. Religion must be true, 
or this man would not feel as he does. * Greatly con- 
cerned for my salvation ;' it rung through my ears like a 
thunder-clap in a clear sky. Greatly concerned I ought 
to be for my own salvation, said I — what shall I do ? 

" I went to my house. My poor pious wife, whom I had 
always ridiculed for her religion, exclaimed, *Why, Mr. 

R , what is the matter with you?' 'Matter enough,' 

said I, filled with agony and overwhelmed with a sense of 

sin. * Old Mr. B has rode two miles this cold morning 

to tell me he was greatly concerned for my salvation. What 
shall I do; what shall I do ?' 

" * I do not know what you can do,' said my astonished 
wife ; * I do not know Avhat better you can do, than to get 
on your horse and go and see him. He can give you better 
counsel than I, and tell you what you must do to be saved.' 

*' I mounted my horse, and pursued after him. I found 
him alone in that same little room, where he had spent the 
night in prayer for my poor soul, where he had shed many 
tears over such a reprobate as I, and had besought God 
to have mercy upon me. 



4 THE UNANSWERABLE ARGUMENT. 

"'I am oome,' said I to him, *to tell you that I am 
greatly concerned for my own salvation.' 

" ' Praised be God,' said the aged man. * It is a faithful 
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came 
into the world to save sinners, even the chief,' and he began 
at that same Scripture, and preached to me Jesus. On 
that same floor we knelt, and together we prayed — and we 
did not separate that day till God spoke peace to my soul. 

" I have often been requested to look at the evidence of 
the truth of religion, but, blessed be God, I have evidence 
for its truth lure,'"' laying his hand upon his heart, " which 
nothing can gainsay or resist. I have often been led to 
look at this and that argument for the truth of Christianity ; 
but I could overturn, and, as I thought, completely demolish 
and annihilate them all. But I stand here to-night, thank- 
ful to acknowledge that God sent an argument to my con- 
science and heart, which could not be answered or resisted, 
when a weeping Christian came to tell me how greatly 
concerned he was for my salvation. God taught him that 
argument, when he spent the night before him in prayer 
for my soul. Now I can truly say, I am a happy man. My 
peace flows like a river. My consistent, uncomplaining 
Avife, who so long bore with my impiety and unbelief, now 
rejoices with me, that, by the grace of God, I am what I 
am — that whereas I was blind, now I see. And here per- 
mit me to say, if you would wish to reach the heart of 
such a poor sinner as I, you must get your qualifications 
Avhere he did, in your closet, and on your knees. So it 
shall be with me. I will endeavor to reach the hearts of 
my infidel friends through the closet and by prayer." 

He sat down overcome with emotion, amid the tears 
and the suppressed sobs of the assembly. All were touched ; 
for all knew what he once was, all saw what he had now 
become. 

" Time, on his noiseless wing, pursues his rapid flight." 
Years have gone by, and the faithful old man has been 
numbered with the dead. But the converted infidel still 
lives, an earnest, honest, faithful, humble Christian. 



PUBLISHED Cy THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Wo. 441 

DANIEL MURRAY, 

LATE LIEUTENANT IN THE AMEKICAN NAVY. 



FROM A LETTER OF THE HON". FRANCIS S. KEY, UNITED STATES 
ATTORNEY OF THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. 



When I arrived at the residence of our late friend, Mr. 
Daniel Murray, I found him apparently dying. He had 
arranged all his affairs, talked in the most cheerfal, consoling 
manner to his family and friends, and sent messages of af- 
fectionate regard to those who were absent. He received 
me with great animation, and a smile that showed he was 
filled with " all joy and peace." He expressed his thank- 
fulness at my visit, spoke of his many and great comforts, 
the perfect peace and happiness he felt, and the sure hope 
which enabled him to welcome death, that he might be with 
his Saviour. He declared that it Avas to him alone he looked 
with this confident hope ; that he was himself unworthy, 
and trusted entirely to the merits of his Redeemer. Hours 
were passed in conversations like these. 

Though weak, he seemed to gather strength from the 
exercise of holy thoughts and affections. " Psalms, and 
hymns, and spiritual songs," and passages of Scripture, were 
continually, by his desire, read and repeated to him ; and 
his countenance, lighted up by the emotions they awakened, 
showed the fulness of joy which his lips labored to express. 
He wished all his domestics and laborers, and his neighbors 
and acquaintances to be present, each of whom was called 
to receive an afiectionate farewell, with kind and solemn 
w^ords of suitable admonition and encouragement. 

These exertions, he said, did not weary or distress him, 
and he wished, in the short time he had left, to say and do 
every thing in his power that might be useful. At one time 
he requested, in our prayers with him, that we should use 
the prayers for the dying, after one of which he told me he 
had hoped that he should have departed while we were 
using that prayer. He requested sonie of the psalms and 

VOL. XL 24 



2 NARRATIVE OF DANIEL MURRAY. 

hymns from the prayer-book to be read to him. These all 
seemed to give him the greatest delight, but he was par- 
ticularly excited by the one beginning, " How firm a foun- 
dation," etc. 

At one time some apparent revival gave hopes of his 
restoration to others, but not to himself He spoke of his 
death as near and certain ; and though willing to submit to 
a recovery, it was manifest that he neither expected nor 
desired it. He was right in his opinion — these hopes disap- 
peared. His strength declined ver})" gradually, till these 
interesting communications with liim could no longer be 
continued ; but the peace and joy of his soul, when they 
ceased to be uttered by his lips, were still radiant in his 
countenance to the last. A few minutes before he expired 
he was told his departure was near, and asked if he still 
felt the hopes and happiness he had expressed. He expressed 
his assent by a smile and the pressure of his hand ; and soon 
these, and all other indications of life, gently and almost 
imperceptibly disappeared. 

And now permit me to say something of hun who thus 
died. Upwards of thirty years ago he made profession of 
religion. From that time to his death, during a retired and 
domestic life, he was kno^\Ti as a warm, consistent Chris- 
tian. All this you know. But I knew him long before 
this. At eight or nine years of age, he being a year older, 
we became intimate, and were brought up together almost 
in the same family. We contmued thus until he entered 
the navy, I think in the year 1798 ; and ever since we have 
been much together, and always on terms of the closest 
friendship. 

From my earliest recollections of him, his character and 
conduct were so remarkable, that he seemed to me without 
a fault. JNTo temptations ever seemed to surprise him. No 
allurement or persuasion led him from his course. I re- 
member well how strong his influence was over me, and 
how it was always used for my good. But I ascribed to 
natural causes altogether the peculiarit)'^ and excellence of 
his character, and did not see how religion could change 
him, who seemed already as perfect as a human being could 
be. This was not only my thought ; all who knew him 
well thus estimated him. 

I remember being present at a conversation on the sub- 



NARRATIVE OF DANIEL MURRAY. 3 

ject of religion between the late John Randolph and Com- 
modore Decatur, who had known Mr. Murray while in the 
nav}^ The latter was expressing his difficulties about the 
universal sinfulness of man's nature. It surprised him that 
the very best people in the world should always speak of 
themselves as sinners. He mentioned his own mother as an 
instance ; and then turning to me, said, " There, too, is our 
friend Murray ; you know w^hat a man he is : who ever saw 
any thing wrong in him ? Is it not absurd to think of such 
a man as a sinner? And yet he accounts himself such." 
I shall never forget Mr. Randolph's reply to this. He rose 
from his sofa, walked towards Decatur, stood before him, 
and in his emphatic manner said to this efiect : " I well 
know how dark and unintelligible this subject appears to 
you, and why it is so. But I trust a time will come when 
you will know and feel it to be all true — true of all, true of 
yourself; when you wdll be self-arraigned and self-con- 
demned ; found guilty of sin — not of the sin of cowardice, 
falsehood, or any mean and dishonorable act, but at least 
of this, that you have had conferred upon you great and 
innumerable favors, and have requited your Benefactor Avith 
ingratitude. This will be guilt enough to humble you, and 
you will feel and own that you are a sinner." 

The difficulties, however, that I had felt from this ap- 
preciation of his early character, were all cleared up at the 
death-bed of my friend. On my first seeing him he said, 
"You witness my most comfortable and happy state. I 
cannot describe it to you. Now, I owe it all to you, though 
I never told you, and you never knew it." Shortly after 
this, when we were alone, he called to me and said, " Now I 
will tell you what I never told you or any one. When we 
first met, and you were a little boy, your good mother had 
taught you a hymn, wliich you used to repeat aloud every 
night on getting into bed. That hymn made a remarkable 
and deep impression on me, which was never effaced. With- 
out your knowing it, I got it by heart from hearing you re- 
peat it ; and from that time to this, I have never gone to my 
rest at night without repeating to myself that hymn and 
praying. This had a most salutary effect upon me all my 
life. When at sea, I never, under any circumstances, omitted 
it ; and under the influence produced by it, I remember that 
when I was once for a short time in command of a small 



4 NARRATIVE OF DANIEL MURRAY. 

brig we had captured from the French in the Mediterranean, 
one of the first orders I gave was for the regular meeting of 
all hands for reading and prayer, which was well received, 
and had a good effect." He then repeated it to me, and I 
took a pencil and wrote it down. I had forgotten every 
word of it. 

Here then I saw the true source of all that had so charmed 
and surprised me in his life. What I had attributed to the 
impulse of a gentle and noble nature, were the " fruits of 
the Spirit," and the excellence that shone forth in his con- 
duct and character was "the beauty of holiness." This he 
acknowledged with all thankfulness, and with the deepest 
humility ; speaking of it as an infinite and undeserved mer- 
cy, which he had not improved as he ought. It now seems 
strange to me that I had never discovered this ; but I was 
walking in darkness, and therefore perceived not the light 
by which he was directed. 

Surely God has here shown us some of the doings of his 
wonder-working hand. A pious mother teaches her child a 
hymn. It makes no impression upon his heart, and is soon 
eiiaced from his memory. But its work is done, and its fruits 
appear in the heart and life of another. 

Shall she complain that the seed has been blown away 
from the soil over which she so carefully cast it, to take root 
in another ? No. " As the heavens are higher than the 
earth, so are God's ways higher than our ways, and his 
thoughts than our thoughts." " Who will say unto him, 
what doest thou ?" That seed, thus blown away, produced 
its rich fruits, and they were then brought back to the spot 
which her prayers had desired they should bless. Her way- 
ward child had forgotten her instructions, but they had made 
for him a friend, whose influence, and counsel, and example 
restrained and strengthened him in the dangerous paths of 
youth, whose life had taught him how to live, and whose 
death hath now taught him how to die. 

Well may he bless God, for this " his servant departed 
this life in faith and fear ;" and ask " his grace so to follow 
his good example, that with him he may be a partaker of 
the heavenly kingdom." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 



SLUMBERER AROUSED 



Those who have read the Pilgrim's Progress by Bun- 
yaii — and who has not ? — Avill remember that the pilgrim, 
finding a pleasant arbor by the way-side, entered it and fell 
asleep. They Avill remember also, that when thus locked 
in slumber, there came one and touched him, and awoke 
him, and said unto him, " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; 
consider her ways, and be wise." 

Permit me to ask the reader who may be a professed 
disciple of the Lord Jesus, if he is not in the condition of the 
pilgrim, when thus reclining asleep in the arbor ? Your 
frame of spirit — is it not a drowsy frame ? To inspired 
truth, are not your ears heavy ? Your prayers — are they 
not cold and formal ? And the precious interests of your 
own and others' souls, are you not strangely and criminally 
neglecting ? I would then touch you, and exhort you, for 
various reasons, to awake and bestir yourself to the things 
of religion. 

1 . Because you have been sleeping long enough. There 
was a season when you were " a child of wrath, even as 
others," an alien and outcast from the special family of God. 
That was a protracted season, commencing with your moral 
being, and continuing till your conversion. What Avas your 
condition throughout this period ? Were you " aAvake unto 
righteousness" — making your salvation sure? Were you 
not rather asleep, nay, dead, " dead in trespasses and sins ?" 
Throughout this entire period, were not your earthly pro- 
pensities and passions acquiring new vigor, while your spir- 
itual senses, inlets of spiritual knowledge, were absolutely 
closed ? And was it not this fact — that you had been liv- 
ing so unworthy a rational immortal being, next to the 
thought that you had been abusing so good and glorious a 
VOL. XI. .24* 



2 THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 

God — which, when you was first awakened under the striv- 
ings of the Spirit, made you wrap your face in the mantle 
of humiliation, and lay your mouth in the dust? The 
bloom of life, the freshness of being, lost, worse than lost. 

At your conversion, however, condemning your past stu- 
pidity and slothfulness, you resolved to be earnest and dili- 
gent in the service of the Lord ; and for a time you kept 
this resolution — "you did run well." But at length you 
began to decline, your speed abated, your zeal cooled ; and 
are you not forced, on looking back upon life, to confess, that 
your eyes have been indeed shut, and your talents buried ? 
Most of your existence " run to waste." Is it not so ? Have 
not hours and opportunities, precious, inestimably precious, 
irrecoverably gone ? Have not moral energies been squan- 
dered — "life's great end" lost sight of; and shall not " the 
time past of your life suffice to have wrought the will of the 
flesh " — negligent of what is spiritual and ennobling ? Have 
you not been sleeping long enough ? 

2. You should arouse, because to sleep at all is a viola- 
tion of your covenant engagements. That was a solemn 
occasion when, in the presence of God and men, you conse- 
crated yourself to him as his. You by that act not only 
avouched him to be your God, in contradistinction from those 
who are " willing captives of the prince of the power of the 
air," but you promised also to turn your back upon the 
world, and engage heartily and actively in his service. 
What has become of that open acknowledgment, and sacred, 
unreserved consecration ? It is registered on high. 

But how has your subsequent life comported Avith it ? 
Can you answer that inquiry without confusion ? Have 
those who have seen you since, who have been about your 
path and compassed your doings, learned from what they 
witnessed in your daily deportment, that you had taken so 
interesting and momentous a step ? Would they not rather 
be surprised, if ignorant, to learn that such was the I'act ; 
and learning it, might they not justly charge you with being 
recreant to your principles? Such a charge does Jehovah 
bring. He charges you Avith sleeping, not only when you 
should have been awake, but when you iiromised to be 
awake ; sleeping month after month, when you had solemnly 
promised to " give no sleep to your eyes, nor slumber to your 
eyelids," in watching against sin, and struggling against its 



THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 3 

power. Surely, then, you should arouse, when a covenant 
oath demands it. 

3. Consider, as another motive, the great importance of 
the u'ork you have to do. It is too vast, too momentous a 
work to admit of indolence. It is, emphatically, a mighty 
work — a work indispensable to safety here, or comfort beyond 
the grave. When Nehemiah was "building up the wall of 
Jerusalem, setting up the doors thereof, the locks thereof, 
and the bars thereof," and messengers were sent to him to 
meet Sanballat and Geshem in the plain of Ono, his reply 
was, " I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come 
down ; why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and 
come down to you ?" A very proper reply. It was a great 
work in his opinion, as indeed it ivas, and to leave it for the 
society of those who " thought to do him mischief," would 
be the height of folly. 

But what was that work, when placed in comparison 
with yours ? Its magnitude dwindles to a point, a speck, a 
fraction of a fraction. You have not indeed a material 
temple to erect, but you have a temple of the Holy Ghost to 
watch and purify. Christian graces to strengthen, principali- 
ties and powers to light against, inordinate lusts to subdue, 
a Saviour to honor, and a Zion to enlarge. Verily a great 
work ; a work sufhcient in itself alone to task the energies 
of Gabriel. And with such a work upon your hands, shall 
you continue to sleep ? Embarked in an enterprise con- 
nected with immortal souls and a boundless eternity, to be 
drowsy is to be infatuated. This language is not unmean- 
ing, it is not hyperbole, it is "truth and soberness." Are 
not imperishable interests, future years, a judgment, the 
character of a long forever, depending on present diligence ? 
Awake then, thou that sleepest, for urgent is the business 
which you have to do. It is matter of the first and last 
concern, and brooks no delay. 

4. And then, too, hoiv short is the season in ichich this 
important icork is to be p^erformecl. " The time is short." 
We live in a dying world. Multitudes are constantly pour- 
ing into that " house appointed for all the living," and " every 
one shall draw after him, as there are innumerable before 
him." Every thirty years as many are deposited in the 
ground as are now upon its surface. The numbers living 
and acting upon the earth at this moment, large as those 



4 THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 

numbers are, are yet " but a handful to the tribes that slum- 
ber in its bosom." " This globe is one mighty sepulchre." 
The dust \Ye now tread ujjon may once have been animated 
dust ; and soon, ah, soon these tabernacles will fall and 
moulder, and become like what is beneath our feet. 

" The time is short." Yfhere are most of the playmates 
of your youth ? Where many of your friends ? Gone. 
Your Christian brethren, too : almost every month bears 
some of them away, through the gate of eternity, to their 
account. You attend their funerals — yours will soon be 
attended. You follow them to their long home — others will 
soon follow you. You find their names on the register of 
death — yours will soon swell that dark catalogue. The sun 
shines upon their graves, but they feel it not. The wild 
flower blooms there, but they inhale not its fragrance. The 
sighing wind sweeps over them, but they hear not its mel- 
ancholy tones. Ere long this Avill be the case with you, and 
you know not how quickly. The charnel-house is " without 
any order." You must be placed in it soon. You may be 
placed in it next. 

It ill, then, becometh such a one to sleep. It much be- 
cometh him to awake. Watch — watch for thine own and 
others' souls. Bestir thyself. " Whatever thy hand findeth 
to do," by which a sanctifying influence may be exerted 
upon the world, " do it with thy might." There is much to 
be done, and what is not done immediately, will not be done 
at all. There is no coming back to this world to perform 
what is left unfinished ; neither, beyond the tomb, will there 
"be found any space for repentance, though it be sought 
carefully Avith tears." 

5. Another motive to spiritual activity mvLj be derived 
from the fact, that the end of all your toil, the Christ iafis 
rest, is so near. Nor is this a feeble motive. Does the 
traveller slacken his pace Avhen, on rising a hill after long 
absence from his house, he sees the spot of his abode, the 
seat of his affections, smiling in the distance ? Does the 
home-bound passenger sleep when the blue hills of his native 
land loom up in the horizon ? And shall the Christian 
slumber on when a crown of glory wliicli never dims, and 
a palm of victory which never withers, appear through the 
open gates wliich he is constantly nearing ? Let it not be. 
Gratitude, reason cries, Let it not be. 



THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 5 

If, professing Christian, you are what you profess to be, 
a genuine disciple of the Lord Jesus, you will soon arrive 
where trouble is unknown and toil a stranger. The saints 
who have gone before you, and to whom your heart is knit 
in bonds of love, came out of much activity, fatigue, and 
labor, to their reward. Shall you, then, sleep ? Shall not 
rather this vast cloud of witnesses cheer you, and the beau- 
ties of holiness charm you, and a glorious immortality, full 
in view, cause you to press forward in the path of duty, with 
a spirit that never tires ? 

6. Connected, however, with this motive, is another, 
that every added moment of sjnritual doth is a moment of 
increased danger. True indeed it is, that if you are a 
Christian, the Saviour is preparing for you a mansion in the 
skies, and will ere long introduce you into it ; and this fact 
should fan your ardor. But as true is it, that you have no 
good evidence of your gracious state but your engagedness 
in your Master's service ; and if you are not thus engaged, 
every successive moment of moral lethargy witnesses against 
you. " By their fruits,'" says Christ, " shall ye know 
them." " If ye love me, keep my commandments ;" and 
one of those commandments is, ''Be always abouyiding in 
the icork of the Lord.'' To postpone, therefore, duty, is to 
practice self-deception, and lure ourselves to ruin. There is 
much in this calculated to arouse and alaiTn. 

Every professed Christian away from God, knows that 
he is not where he ought to be — knows that his feelings and 
conduct ought to be changed, and intends to change them. 
But still he thinks he is a real Christian, though a drowsy, 
unworthy, and lukewarm one. Here may be his error. He 
thinks that he is a Christian. But where is the evidence 
of his discipleship ? In the ^:>as^, if anywhere ; for he ad- 
mits that such evidence is not in him or about him now. 
But he may die now. Present evidence, then, is indispen- 
sable. And the idea that, pursuing his present course, he 
is to obtain other and better evidence by and by, is delusive. 
It is hard for a backslidden, alienated soul to come back, 
and there is no evidence till it does come back. Tempta- 
tions lure the heart from God, transgression becomes easier, 
conscience is muffled or silenced, and sinful passions indulged 
wither its sensibilities. The offender, in such a state, knows 
not what he is ; he readily flatters himself that he is what 



Q THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 

he is not ; he may not be a genuine disciple ; the probabiHty 
rather is, that he is mistaken ^Yith respect to his true char- 
acter ; and thus the voice of mercy becomes feebler and 
feebler, and the tones of wrath sound louder and louder. 
Let then such a one awake. It is time for hmi to awake, 
and tremble, and lose confidence in himself; for the progress 
of evil is rapid, and its end is destruction. 

7. Be admonished likewise to awake, from the intimate 
connection betivecn your activity and the prosiJerity of 
Zion. It is the settled economy of God's dealings, to bless 
the impenitent through the instrumentality of awakened 
Christians. When Christians sleep, sinners sleep. When 
Christians awake, sinners awake — a revival of the work of 
God commences, and shoutings of grace are heard. Under 
the Christian dispensation, the Holy Spirit bears in some 
respects the same relation to the church as the Messiah bore 
to it under the former dispensation. As God's ancient cov- 
enant people had their attention constantly turned to the 
coming Messiah, so should the expectation and petitions of 
Christians centre upon the Holy Spirit. And as just before 
the Messiah came, John the Baptist was sent to prepare the 
way for him in the hearts and changed deportment of the 
Jewish people ; so, before the Spirit comes with regenerating 
power, his way must be prepared in the hearts of the church. 
They must remove the stumbling-blocks before his chariot, 
" cast up the highway, gather out the stones, and lift up a 
standard for the people." They must heal their backslid- 
ings, renew their covenant vows, and maintain circumspec- 
tion and spirituality of mind. This they must do, or they 
cannot expect that the Holy Spirit will come to make glad 
their souls in the conversion of their thoughtless friends — 
rather will they be left to die, die the second death, and Zion 
be left to blight, and barrenness, and desolation. 

Every day, as it rolls on, exhibits more and more clearly 
the indissoluble connection between the lives of professing 
Christians and the destiny of sinners. It is a connection 
which God has established for quickening his church ; and 
did the church realize the awful, crusliing responsibility 
which such a fact imposes, they must, they would be quick- 
ened. Slumbering, nominal professors had better be out of 
the church. They stand like so many non-conductors be- 
tween God's word as it sounds out from the Bible, and the 



THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 7 

hearts of sinners. The Bible says one thing, and their con- 
duct says another, and thus the power of truth is neutrahzed 
by an opposing power, and the sinner, not knowing which 
to beUeve, continues unbeUeving, and perishes. 

What numbers are thus perishing all over the land. 
There are so many slumbering Christians, so much nominal 
Christianity, such a mass of non-conductors between the 
pulpits and unregenerated souls, that the truth does not pass 
through. The lightnings of eloquence, the lightnings of 
inspiration even, are attracted off, and fall powerless. The 
prosperity of Ziori depends not upon your pastor only. He 
must indeed be awake, but you must awake also, or his 
efforts will be in vain. You must cooperate with him. 
Not simply by going to the sanctuary on the Sabbath and 
sitting there, but by fervently praying before you go, for him, 
and for sinners, and for yourself, and by showing during the 
week that you are " alive unto God," by personal, practical 
piety. " Then shall the heathen know that I am the Lord ;" 
when ? — " ivhen I shall be sanctified in you before their 
eyes." 

8. Once more, be admonished to awake, because all else 
are aivake. The universe is filled with worlds driving 
rapidly hi their orbits — our planet is hurrying along in its 
daily and annual course — the air is filled with myriads of 
busy beings — the mountain stream rolls down from the hills, 
and the rivers sweep onward to the sea. All is life and 
motion. Sufficient proof that man was not made to be idle. 
Nor is he idle but in the most important interests — his im- 
mortal concerns. Nor here is he idle ; but he is worse than 
idle : he is active, but his activity is perverted. He is "wise 
to do evil, but to do good he has no knowledge." Hence, it 
becomes those whose principles are correct, to be equally 
active in counteracting bad influences, and in doing good. 

You should awake, for the ungodly are awake, rushing 
into forbidden paths, abusing Jehovah who made them, 
Christ who died for them, and the Spirit who would convert 
them — they are awake, " scattering firebrands, arrows, and 
death," and hurrying to the judgment. You should awake, 
for Satan is awake, employmg all his energies to sap the 
foundations of virtue, and perpetuate the reign of sin — 
awake, in endeavoring to lull Christians to sleep, that un- 
molested he may " go about seeking whom he may devour." 



8 THE SLUMBERER AROUSED. 

You should awake, for the Almighty is awake, protect- 
ing his church, and rolling forward his purposes. Angels 
are awake, looking into the mysteries of redemption. " The 
spirits of just men made perfect " are awake, striking their 
golden harps and " singing the song of Moses and the Lamb." 
You should awake, for hell is awake ; hell is moved from 
beneath to receive its wretched victims. The grave is 
awake — the ravenous, insatiable grave, crying, " Give, give ;" 
and damnation is awake, for " their damnation slumbereth 
not." 

And will you sleep amidst scenes like these ? Shall you 
alone, of all God's creatures, fold your arms in stupid in- 
sensibility ? Noiv, because you have been sleeping long 
enough ; because of your solemn covenant engagements ; 
because of the great importance of the work you have to 
do ; because of the shortness of the season in which this 
work must be done ; because of the nearness of your sal- 
vation ; because of your imminent danger ; because, too, of 
the intimate connection between your activity and the pros- 
perity of Zion ; and because all besides you are alive and 
active : by all these considerations, I ask you now — now, 
before "the door is shut," and yourself "given over to a 
reprobate mind," I entreat you, 1 beseech you, awake out 
of sleep. 

My drowsy powers, why sleep ye so ? 

Awake, my sluggish soul ! 
Nothing has half thy work to do, 

Yet nothing 's half so dull. 

We, for whom God the Son came down, 

And labored for our good, 
Are careless to secure that crown 

He purchas'd with his blood ! 

Lord, shall Ave lie so sluggish still. 

And never act our parts ! 
Come, holy Dove, from tJi' heav'nly hill. 

And sit and warm our hearts. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 443. 

TOM STARBOARD 

AND 

JACK HALYARD. 



A NAUTICAL TEMPERANCE DIALOGUE. 




Halloo, shipmate ; what 
cheer ? Mayhap, however, 
you don't choose to remem- 
ber an old crony. 

Tom. Why, Jack, is that 
jf'li you ? Well, I must say, that 
' i if you hadn't hailed me I 
should have sailed by without knowing you. How you're 
altered I Who would have supposed that this weather- 
beaten hulk was my old messmate Jack Halyard, with 
VOL. XI. 25 



2 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

whom I've soaked many a hard biscnit, and weathered 
many a tough gale on old Ocean ? and then you used to be 
as trhn in your rigging as the Alert herself; but now it's as 
full of ends as the old^Wilmington brig that we used to crack 
so many jokes about at Barbadoes. Give me another grip, 
my hearty, and tell me how you come on. 

Jack. Bad enough, Tom — bad enough. I'm very glad, 
hawever, to overhaul you again, and to find you so merry, 
and looking so fat and hearty. The world must have gone 
well with you, Tom. 

Tom. You may well say that, Jack, and no mistake. 
The world has gone well with me. My appetite is good, 
my sleep sound ; and I always take care to have a shot in 
the locker, and let alone a snug little sum in the seamen's 
savings-bank, that I've stowed away for squally times, or 
when I get old, so as to be independent of hospitals and re- 
treats, and all that sort of thing. And what's more to the 
purpose. Jack, I try to have a clean conscience — the most 
comfortable of all ; don't you think so ? 

Jack. "VMiy yes, Tom, I do think that a clean con- 
science must be a very comfortable thing for a man to have. 
But I can't brag much of mine now-a-days ; it gives me a 
deal of trouble sometimes. 

Tom. Ah, that's bad. Jack — Yery bad. But come, let 
me hear something about you since we parted, some four 
years or so ago. "Where have you last been, in what craft, 
etc. ? Give me a long yarn : you used to be a famous hand 
at spuming long yarns, you know. Jack. Don't you remem- 
ber how angry old copper-nosed Grimes used to get when 
the larboard watch turned in, and, instead of sleeping, Ave 
made you go ahead with the story you were on, which made 
him wish us all at Davy Jones' locker ? Ha, ha, ha. 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 3 

Jack. yes, Tom, I remember it all very well ; but — 

Tom. And then, don't you recollect how we used to 
skylark in the lee scuppers with those jolly fellows, Buntline 
and Reeftackle, until the Luff had to hail, and send a Middy 
with his compliments to the gentlemen of the larboard 
watch, and to say, that ii quite agreeable to them, less noise 
would be desirable ? I say, Jack, you seem to have forgot- 
ten all these funny times in the Alert. Cheer up, man ; 
don't be downhearted. Give me your flipper again ; and 
if you are really in trouble, you may be sure, that as long 
as your old messmate Tom Starboard has a shot in the 
locker, or a drop of blood in his veins, he'll stand by Jack 
Halyard — aye, aye, to the last. 

Jack. Thank you, Tom — thank you. You were always 
an honest fellow, and meant what you said ; so let us steer 
for the sign of "The Jolly Tar," round the corner, and over 
a bowl of hot flip we'll talk over old times, and — 

Tom. Avast there, Jack — avast, my hearty. None oi 
your hot flip, or cold flip, or any other kind of flip for me. 
" The burnt child dreads the fire," as the old proverb says ; 
and I am the child that was once pretty well scorched : but 
now I give it a wide berth. If you will come with me to 
my quiet boarding-house, " The Sailor's Home," I will be 
very glad to crack a joke with you ; but you won't catch 
me in any such place as "The Jolly Tar," I can tell you. 
I mind what the old Philadelphia (Quaker said to his son, 
who, as he was once coming out of a house of ill-fame, spied 
old Broadbrim heaving in sight, and immediately wore ship. 
The old chap, however, who always kept his weather-eye 
open, had had a squint of young graceless, and so up helm 
and hard after he cracked, and following him in, hailed him 
with, "Ah, Obadiah, Obadiah, thee should never be ashamed 



4 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

of coining out — thee should always be ashamed of going 
in'' No, no, Jack, I side with friend Broadbrim : I won't 
enter such places. 

Jack. AVell, I don't know, Tom, but that you are about 
half right. I think, myself, that " The Jolly Tar" is not 
what it's cracked up to be. I am sure that neither the 
landlord nor the landlady look half as kindly on me as they 
did when I first came in, with plenty of money in my pocket. 
Indeed, they have been pretty rough within the last few 
days, and tell me that 1 must ship, as they want my ad- 
vance towards the score run up, of the most of Avhich I am 
sure I know nothing ; but it's always the way. 

Tom. Yes, Jack, it's always the way with such folks. 
The poor tar is welcomed and made much of as long as his 
pockets are well lined ; but let them begin to lighten, and 
then the smiles begin to slacken off; and when the rhino is 
all gone, poor Jack, who was held up as_ such a great man, 
is frowned upon, and at last kicked out of doors : or if, may- 
hap, they have let him run up a score, he is hastily shipped 
off, perhaps half naked, and the advance is grabbed by the 
hard-hearted landlord, who made poor Jack worse than a 
brute with his maddening poison. Oh, Jack, how my heart 
has bled at witnessing the cruel impositions practised upon 
our poor brother sailors by these harpies. But come, I want 
to hear all about my old messmate. If I am not greatly 
out of my reckoning, grog is at the bottom of all your 
troubles, and long faces, and sighs, and groans. Cheer up, 
Jack, and unbosom yourself to your old friend and pitcher. 

Jack. Well, Tom, as I know you to be a sincere fel- 
low, I will unbosom myself. You were never nearer your 
right latitude than when you said that grog was at the bot- 
tom of my troubles. Yes, grog has pretty nearly used up 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 5 

poor Jack Halyard. A few years ago I was a light-hearted, 
happy fellow, and only drank because others did — not that I 
liked the taste particularly in those days, but I did it for 
good-fellowship, as it was called ; and moreover, I did not 
like to seem odd ; and when I shipped on board the man-of- 
war, where it was served out to us twice a day, I soon be- 
came fond of it. And you know we both used to lono- for 
the sun to get above the fore-yard, and for the afternoon 
middle watch, that we might splice the main-brace. Sure 
I am that it was there I first took a liking to the stuff; and 
0, Tom, don't you think the government will have much to 
answer for, in putting temptation in the way of us poor sail- 
ors ? Instead of being our protector, it is our seducer. Oar 
blood will stick in its skirts. 

Tom. Yes, Jack, I think that Uncle Sam has a great 
deal to answer for on that tack ; and I can say, too, that 
the love of rum that I acquired in the government service 
had pretty nearly fixed my flint, both for this world and the 
next. But still, Jack, it wont do for seamen to drink grog 
because the government supplies it, and think to excuse 
themselves by blaming it. No, no ; that is a poor excuse. 
Men who brave the dangers of the mighty deep, as our class 
do, and face death in every form with unshrinking courage, 
ought to be able to resist such a temptation. It Ayill be a 
poor reason to hand in to the Almighty when the angel 
summons all hands before his dread tribunal, in palliation 
of our drunkenness and the sins committed by us when un- 
der the influence of liquor, that the government, instead of 
comforting us, and fortifying us against heat and cold, etc., 
with coffee, and tea, and other wholesome small stores, poi- 
soned our bodies and souls with vile rum. No, indeed. Jack, 

that will avail us naught in that awful day ; and it will be 
VOL. XL 25* 



6 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

poor consolation in the drunkarcVs hell, to blame the gov- 
ernment. But go on. 

Jack. AVell, when the Alert's cruise was up, and Ave 
were paid off, about a dozen of us went to lodge with old 
Peter Hardheart, at the sign of the Foul Anchor ; and as we 
had plenty of money, we thought we would have a regular 
blow-out. So Peter got a fiddler and some other unmen- 
tionable requisites for a jig, and we had a set-to in firstrate 
style. Why, our great frolic at Santa Martha, when Paddy 
Chips, the Irish carpenter, danced away his watch, and 
jacket, and tarpaulin, and nearly all his toggery, you know, 
and next mornino: came scudding along the beach towards 

C3 CO 

the Alert, as she lay moored near shore, and crept on board 
on all-fours, like a half-drowned monkey, along the best 
bower, wouldn't have made a nose to it. AYell, next 
morning I had a pretty smart touch of the horrors, and felt 
rather muddy about the head ; but old Peter soon set us 
agoing again, and we kept it up for three days and three 
nights, carriage-riding, and dancing, and drinkmg, and thea- 
tre-going, etc. ; and we thought the world was too little for 
us : when all at once old Hardheart took a round turn on us 
with, " I'll tell you what it is, you drunken swabs, I'll not 
have such goings-on in my house — my house is a decent 
house — you must all ship ; yes, ship's the word. I must 
have the advance — you're more than a month's wages 
apiece m my debt." Tom, I was sober in an instant. My 
conscience smote me. In three days I had squandered the 
wages of a three years' cruise, and had not a dollar left to 
take to my poor old mother in the country, whom I had 
intended to go to see after the frolic was over, and give all 
my money to. Tom, what a poor, pitiful, sneaking 
wretch I felt that I was. The two letters that I had re- 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 7 

ceived from her during my absence — so kind, so affectionate, 
and so full of fervent prayers to God that her poor boy might 
be preserved from the temptations that beset the sailor, and 
be brought safely back to her widowed arms — rushed to my 
remembrance, and overwhelmed me with grief; and I — 
I, who ought to have denied myself even innocent gratifica- 
tion until I had ministered to her wants, had forgotten the 
best of mothers, and had spent all of my hard earnings with 
the vilest of the vile. 

Tom. Poor Jack, my heart bleeds for you ; but cheer 
up, and go on. 

Jack. Well, to shorten a long story, I was the next day 
bundled, when about three sheets in the wind, on board a 
merchantman, wdth an empty chest, although it was win- 
ter, old Hardheart nabbing the whole of my advance ; and 
for two or three days, Tom, I suffered awfully from the hor- 
rors. I thought I was already in the hell to which the 
wicked who don't repent must go. Awake, asleep, at the 
helm, on the yard, in the storm, in the calm, everywhere I 
was haunted with the remembrance of my ingratitude to 
my poor dear mother — to her who had watched over me in 
helpless infancy and childhood ; who had prayed over and 
for me so much ; who had pinched herself to give me a snug 
outfit when I first went to sea ; and who I knew had strained 
her poor old eyes in watching for the loved form of her 
Jack — for the papers must have apprised her of the arrival 
of the Alert two days after we got in. But, dear old wo- 
man, she watched in vain ; Jack had forgotten his best 
friend ; he had herded with beasts, and had became a beast 
himself. Tom, what a miserable wretch I was. I some- 
times tried to read in the Bible that she had given me, but 
it seemed as if every verse was a fiery scorpion stinging me 



8 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

for my crimes and ingratitude. As the ship in which I was, 
sailed under the temperance clause, I could get no liquor 
on board, and I determined to shun the accursed thing ever 
after ; to turn over a new leaf in my log-book of life ; to save 
my money ; and to become a steady, sober lad, so that I 
might after a while be made a mate, and then a master, and 
have a shot in the locker for my dear old mother. These 
good resolutions lasted as long as I had no liquor ; but you 
will see that they vanished like smoke when I came ashore, 
on the return of the vessel. As the wind was light in the 
bay in coming up, we were boarded by several boats from 
sailor boarding-houses, and among the rest by old Hardheart. 
"When I saw him I fairly gritted my teeth with rage, for I 
had not forgotten how he treated me before ; but he came 
up to me in so kind a manner, and inquired so affectionately 
after my health, and seemed to feel such a real interest in 
me, that I swallowed all his blarney and coaxing, and at 
last agreed to stop with him again for the night that I would 
be in the city, intending, the moment that we should be 
paid off next day, to steer straight for my old mother, if, 
mayhap, my cruelty had not broken her heart ; and more- 
over, determining not to drink a drop of liquor in his house. 

Tom. Dear Jack, I trust that you were able to keep 
that resolution. 

Jack. You shall hear, Tom. When we got to old Pe- 
ter's, I found, as usual, a good many people in the house ; 
and the old woman and the girls were rejoiced to see me 
again, as they made out. The old woman at once proposed 
that we should celebrate my safe return in the big punch- 
bowl ; but Peter said, " No, Jack has turned cold-water 
man, and he can't drink ; but we'll drink for him." I ob- 
served that Peter sneered whilst he said this, and so did all 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 9 

the rest, and it galled me a good deal. While the punch 
was brewing, some of the men whispered, " Wldte-liver "■ — 
''pow sneak " — " no sailor f and after the punch had passed 
round amongst them once or twice, I thought I would just 
take one swig, to show them that I was not the poor sneak 
they took me for, and no more. But, Tom, that one SAvig 
sealed my doom : the danger's always in the first glass. 
The men cheered, and said they knew I was a man, and a 
real seaman, by the cut of my jib, and that I was too good 
for the Temperance Society ; and the girls cast sheep's-eyes 
at me, and said that I was just the chap to run away with 
a Avoman's heart, and that my eyes were not made for the 
good of my soul, and such-like foolish and wicked talk. My 
weak head could not stand the punch, nor my vain heart 
the flattery, and I was soon regularly used up. Instead of 
having a dollar to take home to my poor old mother, I found 
myself, in a few days, the second time penniless ; was forced 
to ship again ; got back ; the same scenes were acted over ; 
and here I am, the miserable wretch that you see me — light 
in purse, sick in body, and tormented in mind ; the past a 
curse, the future despair. 

Tom. Well, Jack, I must say, that your case is hard 
enough. But don't despair, my boy. Many a poor fellow 
who has hmig to a plank in mid-ocean until he thought it 
was surely all over with him, has been picked up and saved. 
The same kind Providence who has watched over us, and 
preserved us in so many dangres, will not desert us. W^hat 
we have to do is, to turn from every evil way, and humbly 
trusting in the merits of Christ our Saviour, look up to him 
for mercy, repent of all sin, and resolve, in his strength, to 
fear and obey him in future. And I trust, Jack, that all 
will yet be well with you ; and I rejoice that I have where- 



10 TOiM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

withal to give you a lift towards fitting you out, and head- 
ing you off towards your old mother. 

Jack. A thousand thanks, Tom — a thousand thanks. 
" A friend in need is a friend indeed." You have hghtened 
my mind of a heavy cargo of care by your kind offer, made 
with the frankness of a sailor, and which I most gratefully 
accept. And now that I have finished my long and mourn- 
ful yarn, it is your turn ; and to tell the truth, Tom, I am 
exceedingly anxious to hear all about you. So heave ahead. 

Tom. Well, Jack, here goes. You know when we left 
the Alert we had plenty of rhino in our pockets. So I in- 
tended to steer straight for my native village, in the state 
of Pennsylvania, where I had left my old father and a sweet, 
dear little sister, three years before, to cheer their hearts 
with a sight of their sailor-boy, and to make them comfort- 
able with the cash. Unfortunately, as I passed through 
Philadelphia, I went with some wild fellows to the theatre — 
to so many the gateway to hell — and having grog enough 
aboard to make me pretty crank and foolish, I soon found 
myself in the third tier among the painted fire-ships ; and* as 
the proverb says, " When the wine is in, the wit is out," so 
I was led as the simple one of Scripture, " like an ox to the 
slaughter." Ti-uly, Jack, "her house is the Avay to hell, 
going down to the chambers of death." The consequences 
you may readily imagine. I was made to drink until I Avas 
quite insensible ; was robbed of all my money, and then 
turned out of doors into the cold street. When I came to 
myself it was nearly sunrise, and I could not imagine how I 
had got there. My head swam, my bones ached, and I felt 
as if it was "blue Monday" with me. I staggered off, not 
knoAving where I was or whither I went, for half an hour 
or more, when I sat down on a flight of steps, and fell 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. H 

asleep. When I awoke, all the horrors of my situation 
rushed upon my mind ; and 0, Jack, I felt the raging hell 
in my bosom that you did when Hardheart first shipped you 
off. How sunk and degraded in my own eyes. I deter- 
mined, however, upon going home, as the distance was 
short — only fifteen miles — and a bitter journey it was. Jack. 
I thought on my madness and folly, and wondered, with the 
poor ignorant Indian, why people would put an enemy into 
their mouths to steal away their brains. Instead of going 
to meet my dear father and sweet little sister with a joyous 
face and a pocket full of money, with which to make their 
hearts sing for joy, I was returning, like the prodigal son, 
from feeding upon husks with swine — poor, and with a 
heavy heart and a gnawing conscience. the hell. Jack, 
of a bad conscience. It is the beginning of the existence 
of the worm that never dies, and of the fire that is never 
quenched. It is a foretaste of that eternal hell prepared for 
those who persist in violating God's holy laws. Well, I 
reached home at last, and a sad home I found it. The sand 
of my dear father's glass was almost run out — the poor old 
man was about slipping his cable. But 0, Jack, how hap- 
py he looked ; and so calm and resigned to the will of his 
heavenly Father, as he said — ^ready to set sail on the great 
voyage of eternity, or to stay and weather more of the rough 
gales of adversity in this life, just as God pleased. He held 
out his thin, white hand to me, and welcomed his boy, and 
thanked the Lord that he had given him a sight of me be- 
fore his eyes were sealed in death. My poor sister hung 
weeping on my neck. But, Jack, bad as I then felt, I felt 
a thousand times worse when my dear old father beckoned 
me to him, and laying his hand on my head, prayed that 
God — his God, the Friend who had stood by him in every 



12 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

gale and tempest of life, and proved true to him till the 
last — would bless his dear boy Thomas, and take him into 
his especial keeping, and lead him to the blessed Jesus ; and 
finally, when the voyage of life was over, that we all three 
might join the dear mother who had gone before us, at the 
right hand of the throne of God, to bless and praise his holy 
name for ever. He then put Susan's hand into mine, and 
blessed us both again, and said, " Thomas, I leave this dear, 
precious girl with you ; watch over her, cherish and protect 
her, and be to her both father and brother. May the great 
God bless you, my dear children, and make you his. I have 
but little time to say more, for the icy hand of death is on 
me ; my Saviour beckons, and I must away. Come, Lord 
Jesus." With these words the glorified spirit of my beloved 
father winged its flight to mansions in the skies — to that 
" rest prepared for the people of God ;" and I was left with 
raiy weeping sister, almost stupefied Mdth grief. Three days 
after, the clods of the valley covered the mortal remains of 
my honored parent, and then poor Sue and I felt that we 
were all in all to each other. I told her of all my troubles, 
and that I had robbed her by my vileness ; but the dear girl 
kissed me, and said, " Dear brother, do not mourn on my 
account ; I am young and healthy, and can easily support 
myself by my needle ; but mourn on your own accomit — 
mourn over your sins, and your ingratitude to the great Being 
who has upheld you and preserved you in so many dangers, 
known and unknown, on the mighty deep. And promise me, 
dear brother, that you will never touch another drop of liquor 
again ; it will be the first step towards reformation." 

Jack. Poor dear girl. Of course, Tom, you promised ? 

Tom. Aye, aye. Jack, I did promise ; and what's more, 
I kept my promise. But you must know how I was able to 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 13 

do it. Before I left the village a great Temperance-meeting 
was held there, and several of the friends of the cause deliv- 
ered addresses, in which they showed so clearly and conclu- 
sively the great evils resulting from the use of spirituous 
liquors, that nearly every body in the village signed the 
pledge of total abstinence — at least, all of the respectable 
part of the community, and even a good many sots who had 
been given up as incorrigible. Jack, if you had heard 
the awful accounts they gave of broken-hearted wdves and 
beggared children ; of the widows and orphans made by 
rmn ; of the misery and degradation attendant upon it ; of 
the crimes committed under its influence — robbery, murder, 
suicide — leading to the penitentiary, the gallows, and death, 
it would have made your blood freeze in your veins. And 
these accounts were all true, Jack, for many of the horrible 
scenes had taken place about the neighborhood. 

Jack. I don't doubt it at all, Tom. And moreover, I 
believe that not one half of the misery caused by rum — no, 
not the thousandth part, is ever known by the public. Many 
an injured wife and suffering and ruined child have con- 
cealed the history of their woes from the eye and ear of the 
world, and buried their sorrows deep in their own bosoms. 

Tom. True, Jack, or breathed them only to their God, 
\A"hose ear is always open to the cry of the afflicted, and 
whose hand is always ready to aid them. "Well, I signed 
the pledge, wliich I am sure has a great efiect in restraining 
one when tempted to swerve ; for what man of honorable 
feelings would wilfully violate his word and promise ? and 
a few weeks after, having fixed my sister comfortably with 
a pious milliner, I Avent to Philadelphia, and there shipped 
with a temperance captain for a South American port. 
Jack, what a blessed voyage that was to me. On the first 
VOL. xr. 26 



14 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

day out, all hands were called aft to the break of the quar- 
ter-deck, when the captain, who was a pious man, told us 
in a few words, that it was his practice to have "family- 
worship" eveiy morning and evening in the cabin, and he 
hoped that all his men would cheerfully unite with him. 
The captain was so kind in his mamier, and appeared to 
be so smcere, and as he seemed, moreover, to regard us as 
human beings with immortal souls, and not as brute beasts, 
out of whose muscles and sinews he cared only to get plenty 
of work, we all wiUingly consented. So at sundown all 
hands were mustered in the cabin, except the man at the 
helm, as the weather was mild and the ship under easy 
sail ; and the captain prayed fervently that God would give 
us a safe and pleasant passage, and bring us all to think 
of our souls. He then read a portion of Scripture, which 
he explained to us, and after singing a couple of hymns 
we were dismissed. 

Jack. Ah, Tom, good captains make good crews, all the 
world over ; and I'll warrant there was neither knocking 
down nor mutiny aboard of that vessel. 

Tom. No, Jack ; there was nothing but peace, and 
quietness, and good order ; every man knew his place and did 
his duty ; and the captain was like 9, father to us. He had 
a spare quadrant, wliich each of us used in turn in taking 
the daily observation, under his o^vvn eye ; and he taught us 
how to work our reckoning; so that in the course of the 
voyage some of us got to know a good deal about naviga- 
tion. And, Jack, I had good evidence of the A^alue of relig- 
ion also, particularly when we encountered the equinoctial 
gale in the southern tropic, and were near going doA^Ti. 
Then it was. Jack, when we had lost our foretopmast, and 
our maintopsail and most oi" our other sails had been blown 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 15 

into ribbons ; when the sea had carried away nearly all our 
bulwarks, and swept the decks clear of caboose, longboat, 
etc. ; and the pumps were constantly gomg — at one time to 
the tune of more than a thousand strokes an hour — to keep 
the vessel free ; and the axes were at hand, ready to cut 
away the masts when the worst should come — that our 
captain was calm and collected. He seemed to be patient 
and submissive to the will of God, as if he had been horn a 
Christian ; and he gave many a kind word of encourage- 
ment to his men. What a difference there must have been 
between him and the vulgar, bullying man that Sam Bow- 
sprit once sailed with, who was a wolf when there was no 
danger, and a sheep when there was ; but it is always so 
with your bullies, whether in the cabm or the forecastle. 
To return to my story : in two or three days the gale spent 
its fury, and we reached our port in safety. One day while 
in port, in rummaging my chest, I discovered at the bottom 
a little package neatly tied up, which, upon openmg, I found 
to contain two small books, called, " James' Anxious Inquirer 
after Salvation," and " Baxter's Call to the Unconverted ;" 
with a few touching lines from my dear sister, earnestly be- 
seechuig me to look to my soul, and to read my Bible and 
these little books, and never to forget my God. Jack, this 
went to my heart like an arrow. It brought fresh to my 
mind the death-bed scene of my dear father, and I fell upon 
my knees, and, for the first time, really prayed to God. Yes, 
Jack, I then prayed indeed. I felt my ingratitude to God 
to some extent, and I began to see what a sinner I had been. 
I at once commenced reading my Bible and the little books, 
that I might learn more of my lost condition, and how to 
flee from the wrath to come. In the course of a day or two 
the captain observed that I was uneasy in my mind, and 



16, TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

called me to him to ask if he could do an)'- thing to aid me. 
I frankly told him all my trouble, and he at once pointed 
me to " the Lamb of God, Avho takes away the sin of the 
world." He then gradually and clearly unfolded to me the 
great gospel plan of redemption ; and kneeling down togeth- 
er, he prayed most fervently for me. After a few days of 
deep solicitude and constant prayer to Almighty God, he, in 
his infinite mercy, shed light upon my soul, and I felt that 
Christ had died for me — even me. Jack, then it was 
that I first tasted true joy — that joy which the world cannot 
give, and which the world cannot take away ; that peace of 
mind which passeth understanding. And with God's aid, I 
have ever since tried to walk close in the way prescribed by 
him ; and I trust that my dear father's dying prayer will 
indeed be answered, and that we shall all meet in heaven. 

Jack. Well, Tom, I congratulate you, for although I 
make no pretensions to religion myself, I sincerely respect it 
in others — that is, where it is genuine, as I am sure it is in 
your case ; but I can't stand playing soldier in rehgion, Tom, 
as I have seen it done by some hj^ocrites. 

Tom. So much the worse for them. Jack. But, my 
dear fellow, I advise you, as a friend, not to put ofi^ seeking 
religion another day. This day may be your last, Jack. 
Don't you remember the story of the rich man. in Scripture, 
who said, " Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many 
years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry ?" But 
God said unto him, " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be 
required of thee." Jack, don't put olT this most impor- 
tant of all works to a dying bed, for you may not have one ; 
you may be called into eternity at a moment's warning. 
You surely have not forgotten the awful death of swearing 
Joe Swifter, who was shaken ofi^ the yard into the boiling 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 17 

sea in that terrible night off the Canaries, when we were 
all aloft close reefing the Alert's maintopsail ? And, Jack, 
can you ever forget his cry of agony as we shot ahead in the 
gale, forced to leave him to perish ? I am sure it will haunt 
me to my djdng hour. Poor Joe, thou wert called with all 
thy sms upon thy head into the presence of an offended God. 

Jack. Poor Joe. I remember it as if it had occurred 
but yesterday, Tom. It was an awful warning ; and I 
don't think there were three oaths sworn on board the Alert 
lor three days after. To tell the truth, Tom, I have had 
some queer feelings about death and the judgment, lately ; 
and although I tried hard to drown them in grog, they would 
come up in spite of me. But I'll tell you more about it 
when we reach your lodgings, where we will be quiet and 
uninterrupted. You got safely back, I hope ? 

Tom. Yes, Jack, thanks to a kind Providence. I made 
two more voyages with the same captain ; and I expect to 
go with him next trip as mate. I have been able to send 
my sister a snug little sum to keep her comfortable ; and I 
have something handsome in the seamen's savings bank, as 
I told you before ; together with a clear head and a happy 
heart ; trustmg in my God, and loving all who bear his im- 
age. Now, Jack, what do you think of temperance ? 

Jack. Think of it ? Why, Tom, I always thought well 
of it, though I can't say that I have latterly 'practhed it 
much ; but I like it now better than ever. I have ruminated 
a good deal upon its evils, both at sea and ashore. Don't you 
think, Tom, that rum is at the bottom of nine out of ten of 
the floggings that take place in the navy ? 

Tom. Yes, indeed, Jack, am sure of it. And I think, 
moreover, that if it were discarded entirely from the govern- 
ment and merchant service, insubordination and floggings 

VOL. XI. 26^ 



18 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

would be of rare occurrence in the one, and trouble and mu- 
tiny in the other. And there would be fewer vessels and 
lives lost m the merchant-service, in the bargain. 

Jack. I have often thought, Tom, what a degrading 
thing that flogging is. It sinks a man below the level of a 
brute, both in his own and the eyes of others. It seems to 
me that if I had ever been triced up at the gratings, and 
had a stroke of the cat, it would have completely crushed 
my spirit, if it had not broken my heart outright. 

Tom. I think it would have had the same effect on me 
too, Jack. I am sure I could not have stood it. 

Jack. And, Tom, to show more of the bad effects of 
liquor, I remember that I was once in Port-au-Prince, in the 
island of St. Domingo, during the sickly season, when a fear- 
ful mortality raged among the shipping, so that every vessel 
lost some of her men ; most of them bringing on the yellow- 
fever by their intemperance. There were three ships that 
were left without a man ; all were swept off, from the cap- 
tain to the cook. 

Tom. Awful, Jack, awful. I have also seen many a 
stout and noble-hearted tar, in those yellow-fever countries, 
stowed away under a foot of earth for the landcrabs to leed 
upon, just from drinking rum, or the strong brandy of the 
country. Ill teU you what it is, Jack, when the coppers 
are scalded by rum, physic can't get a hold — it is just like 
casting anchor on a rocky bottom — and so the grip of the 
grim monster Death is sure. The only safe man there, as 
well as everywhere else, indeed, is the teetotaler. 

Jack. What is a teetotaler, Tom ? I have often heard 
the term, without fully knowing what it meant. 

Tom. a teetotaler. Jack, is one who conscientiously 
abstains from every description of intoxicating drink : rum, 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 19 

whiskey, brandy, gin, cordials, wine, cider, ale, and even 
beer. 

Jack. "V\Tiat, Tom, you don't mean to say that you give 
such a wide berth to heer ? Tell that to the marines, for 
old sailors won't believe it. 

Tom. I do say it. Jack. I give even beer a wide berth. 
Don't you know that it contains alcohol ? And what is per- 
haps worse, there is but little beer and ale made for sale that 
does not contain many hurtful ingredients — poisonous drugs. 
No, no ; nothing for me that can in the slightest degree 
affect my noble reason, that great gift of Almighty God. 
Pure cold water — Adam's sparkling, life-invigorating ale — 
and coffee and tea, are my beverages. Try them once, Jack, 
and the word of an honest sailor for it, you will never go 
back to alcohol, or any of its accursed family. 

Jack. "Well, Tom, I think I will. The fact is, you 
seem to be so well in body and happy in mind, so comfort- 
able and respectable in worldly matters, and speak so cheer- 
ingly of another world — to which I know that the rapid 
current of time is hurrying us both — that I'll follow in your 
wake, and try to make a little headway in these things my- 
self 

Tom. Well said, my hearty. Give me another shake 
of your honest fist. Now I begin to recognize my old true- 
hearted friend and messmate Jack Halyard in his early 
days, when we swore friendship to each other across the sea- 
chest, on board the Alert. You are the man for me, Jack ; 
so come up with me at once to the Sailor's Home, and I'll 
rig you out a little more decently — make you look a little 
more shipshape — and to-night we will go to the great tem- 
perance-meeting at the seamen's bethel chapel, and you shall 
sign the pledge, which will be the wisest act of your life, 



20 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

Jack, as I'll wager a barrel of pork against a mouldy bis- 
cuit : aye, I'll warrant me you will say so at some future day. 
There will be plenty of blue-jackets there that will lend a 
hand in so good a cause. 

Jack. Well, heave ahead, old messmate. I did think 
of tapering off — quitting by degrees — but perhaps the safest 
and easiest plan will be, to break off at once. 

Tom. That is the way. Jack, the only true way. Ta- 
pering off is not what it is cracked up to be. It is very 
hazardous ; for it keeps up excitement, and the taste of the 
liquor hangs about the palate. Don't you remember Ben 
Hawser, one of the best maintopmen of the Alert — he who 
saved the first Luff from drowning at Port Mahon, when he 
fell overboard from the cutter ? 

Jack. Surely I do, Tom. Do you suppose I could for- 
get such a noble-hearted fellow as Ben Hawser — as fine a 
fellow as ever laid out upon a yard, or stood at the wheel ; 
and such a firstrate marlinespike seaman in the bargain ? 
No, indeed. 

Tom. You are right, Jack. He was a noble fellow, 
and a thorough seaman. There was nothing of the lubber 
about poor Ben : always the first man at his duty, and ready 
to share his last copper with a fellow-mortal in distress, 
whether seaman or landsman. Well, Ben once got into a 
great frolic ashore, and kicked up such a bobbery that the 
watchman clapped him in limbo for the night ; and the j us- 
tice next morning gave him such a clapper-clawing with his 
tongue, and bore down upon him so hard with his repri- 
mands^ as I think the lawyers call it, and raked him so 
severely fore and aft with his good advice, to wind up 
\vith, that Ben felt pretty sheepish ; and, as he told us 
afterwards, didn't know whether he was on his head or his 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD- 21 

heels — on the track, or on the keelson. He felt so sore about 
it, and so much ashamed of himself, that he did not touch 
a drop for six weeks. He then thought he Avould take it 
moderately — -just enough to keep the steam up — or, as some 
folks say, he thought he would be a temperate drinker. 0, 
Jack, that temperate drinking is a famous net of old Satan's 
to catch fools in. Your temperate drinker treads on slippery- 
ground ; for as I verily believe that alcohol is one of the most 
active imps for the destruction of both body and soul, the 
temperate drinker is too often gradually led on by the fiend, 
until the habit becomes fixed and inveterate ; and he drags a 
galling chain, each day riveted more strongly, and the poor 
wretch hourly becomes more callous to shame, until he sinks 
into the grave — the drunkard's grave. 

Jack. But, Tom, you don't mean to say that poor Ben's 
reel has been run ofi^ in that style, do you ? 

Tom. Indeed, Jack, it is true, and sorry am I that it is 
so. Yes, I followed the worn-out hulk of Ben Hawser to 
the dark and silent grave a fortnight ago. He slipped his 
cable in the prime of hfe ; and all along of temperate drink- 
ing at first. Ben, like many other men, thought he was 
strong-minded, and could stop at a certain point ; but he 
found, to his cost, that king Alcohol was stronger, and that 
when once he had forged his chains around his victim, he 
was sure of him, unless the grace of a merciful God inter- 
vened, and plucked him as a brand from the burning. So I 
advise every one to beware of temperate drinking. Give it 
a wide berth, or it may wreck you for time and for eternity. 

One thing more. Jack. I would like your temperate 
drinker to pause, and reflect upon the fact, that the quantity 
of brandy or rum that he took at a drink, when he com- 
menced this downhill course, has been gradually increased ; 



22 TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 

SO that in the second year, what had been quite sufficient to 
please his palate and produce all the desired effects in the 
first, was then insipidly small ; and more so in the thhd 
year, if, mayhap, he could with any decency lay claim to 
the title of temi^erate drinker so long. Jack, this is a fear- 
ful reflection for one of this class of the slaves of alcohol ; 
but let liim think upon it when quite free from excitement, 
say after two or three days' abstinence — if he can abstain 
that long just to cool oft' for reflection — and I'll warrant he 
will tremble at the prospect. 

Besides, Jack, the injiuence of your temperate drinker is 
ten times worse than that of the confirmed and notorious 
drunkard ; for it is not likely that any one in his senses 
would desire to copy the confirmed sot in his beasthness. 
Ko, indeed ; he would shrink with horror from the intoxi- 
cating bowl, if he felt sure that such would be the result to 
him, if he indulged. But he should remember, that no one 
ever became a sot at once; the degradation was by degrees. 
And it may be that your temperate drinker is a respectable 
and thriving man in the eyes of the world — say a great 
merchant, or lawyer, or master of a ship — and small folks do 
not imagine they are in any danger when they see such men 
stand fast, as they think : but they had all better remember 
the advice in Scripture, " Let liim that thinketh he standeth, 
take heed lest he fall ;" and so they follow in the Avake, and 
perhaps nine out of ten go down to the grave drunkards ; 
often, I am sure, in company with the very men whose ex- 
ample they thought so sate, but which led them to certain 
ruin. It is an awful thought. Jack, that we have been the 
means of misleading others, either by example or precept ; 
and one that will weigh like lead upon the conscience of 
many a man on his death-bed. No, no ; my motto is. 



TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD. 23 

"TOUCH NOT, TASTE NOT, HANDLE NOT." The wise mail 

of Scripture knew what he was about when he said, 
" Look not upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth 
his color in the cup ; at the last it biteth like a serpent, and 
stingeth like an adder." The same wise man said also, 
that "the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty." 
But, Jack, what are poverty and shame, bad as they are, in 
comparison with the loss of the soul ? Think of that — the 
loss of the iimnortal soul — for God says, that neither thieves, 
nor di'iuikards, nor any thing that deiileth, shall enter heav- 
en. And 0, Jack, to think of being cast into hell for ever, 
with the devil and his angels ; how awful ! hut such imtst he 
the fate oftJie unre'pentant drioikard. 

Jack. Awful, indeed, Tom. I am now fully persuaded 
that you are right ; and so I'll follow your good example, 
and sign the teetotal pledge. And what is more, I'll iry to 
be a Christian too, for I believe that religion is the best 
security against every kind of temptation. 

Tom. I like that, Jack ; it is truth itself So we will 
shape our course for the Sailor's Home, under the direction 
of that noble institution, " The American Seamen's Friend 
Society ;" there you will be out of the way of temptation, 
and there is a good deal in that — and to-night we will go 
to the Bethel, By the way. Jack, you can't think what ex- 
cellent places these Homes are for the poor tempest-tossed 
mariner ; and how snug and comfortable we all are there. 
The rules of the houses are excellent ; neither swearing nor 
drinlving is allowed ; and every night and morning we unite 
with the families in worship : and on the Sabbath, and some 
of the evenings of the week, we are kindly invited to the 
Bethel chapel, where we have excellent preaching on the 
word of God ; and in the family prayers, the good of us poor 



24 TOM STARBOAKD AND JACK HALYARD. 

sailoi-s, for time and eternity, is not forgotten, I can tell you. 
It reminds me of the days of my boyhood, when my dear 
father called us together, morning and evening, to praise 
God ; and also of the happy time I have spent with my 
present good captain. 

And then, Jack, when any of us are sick they are so 
kind and attentive — -just like our own dear mothers and 
sisters. I saw how kindly poor Martin Gray was treated 
during his long illness, by the manager — a worthy old salt — 
and his excellent family ; and how they smoothed his dying 
pillow, and did all they could to make his way easy towards 
the dark valley of the shadow of death. Oh, Jack, it is a 
great thing to fall in with real Christians at such a time. 
It makes one think of the poor man in Scripture who fell 
among thieves, and had his wounds dressed and care taken 
of him by the good Samaritan. Aye., aye, Jack ; and I know, 
moreover, that the good example and excellent advice in 
these houses have been the means, in the Lord's hands, of 
saving both the body and soul of many a poor neglected, 
weather-beaten tar, who would other\vise have fallen into 
the jaws of the devouring sharks who are always on the 
watch, with open mouths, to prey upon the poor son of 
ocean, and to swallow him up without pity or remorse. 

Jack. "Well, heave ahead, my hearty ; I'm the lad that 
won't flinch. So, three cheers for the glorious Temperance 
cause, for Sailor's Homes and Bethels, and for the mothers, 
wives, sisters, and sweethearts of all true-hearted seamen. 
And let every jolly tar who loves his family and domestic 
peace, and wants to do his duty and be respected in this 
world, and lay an anchor to windward of another and better 
world, toe the plank, and sign the pledge right off the reel. 
Huzza, huzza, huzza I 



«fo. 444. 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS 



BY REV. WILLIAM JAY, 



A T H , ENGLAND. 



il"!'iii^i,lli,ii^iii',i}fi^liihiiiiiiMi|ij^^^^^^ 




One of the most agreeable scenes we can ever survey 
upon earth, is a peaceful and happy family ; where friendship 
comes in to draw more closely the bonds of nature ; where 
the individuals resemble the human body, and if one mem- 
ber suffer, all the members suffer with it, and if one member 
be honored, all the members rejoice ; where every care is 
divided, every sorrow diminished, every joy redoubled, by 
discovery, by sympathy, by communion ; where mutual 
confidence prevails, and advice, consolation, and succor are 
reciprocally given and received. To such a sight God him- 
voL. XI. 27 



2 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

self calls our attention : " Behold, how good and pleasant 
it is for brethren to dwell together in unity I" Some things 
are good, but not pleasant ; and some things are pleasant, but 
not good. Here both are combined, and the eiiect is fragrant 
as the sacred perfume, and reviving as the influences of 
heaven. " It is like the precious ointment upon the head, 
that ran dowTi upon the beard, even Aaron's beard ; that 
went down to the skirts of his garments : as the dew of 
Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains 
of Zion ; for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even 
life for evermore." 

Let us establish the importance of domestic happiness, 
by taking some particular views of its connections and influ- 
ence. 

And first, we may consider it in reference to our avoca- 
tions, and cares ; these are numerous and diversified, and 
demand relaxation and relief Who could endure perpetual 
drudgery and fatigue ? And oh, what so refreshing, so sooth- 
ing, so satisfying, as the placid joys of home ? 

See the traveller. Does duty call him for a season to 
leave his beloved circle ? The image of his earthly happi- 
ness continues vividly in his remembrance ; it quickens him 
to diligence ; it cheers him under diflficulties ; it makes him 
hail the hour which sees his purpose accomplished, and his 
face turned towards home ; it communes with him as he 
journeys ; and he hears the promise which causes him to 
hope : " Thou shalt know, also, that thy tabernacle shall be 
in peace ; and thou shalt visit thy habitation, and not 
sin." Oh, the joyful reunion of a divided family ; the 
pleasures of renewed interview and conversation after days 
of absence. 

Behold the man of science. He drops the labor and 
painfulness of research, closes his volume, smooths his 
wrinkled brows, leaves his study, and unbending himself, 
stoops to the capacities, yields to the wishes, and mingles 
with the diversions of his children. 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 3 

" He will not blush, that has a father's heart, 
To take in childish play a childish part ; 
But bends his sturdy back to any toy 
That youth takes pleasure in, to please his boy." 

Take the man of trade. What reconciles him to the toil 
of business ? What enables him to endure the fastidious- 
ness and impertinence of customers ? What rewards him 
for so many hours of tedious confinement ? By and by the 
season of intercourse will arrive ; he will be embosomed in 
the caresses of his family ; he will behold " the desire of his 
eyes " and the children of his love, for whom he resigns his 
ease ; and in their welfare and smiles he will find his recom- 
pense. 

Yonder comes the laborer. He has borne the burden 
and heat of the day ; the descending sun has released him 
from his toil, and he is hastening home to enjoy repose. 
Half-way down the lane, by the side of which stands his 
cottage, his children run to meet him ; one he carries, and 
one he leads. The companion of his humble life is ready 
to furnish him with his plain repast. See, his toilworn 
countenance assumes an air of cheerfulness ; his hardships 
are forgotten ; fatigue vanishes ; he eats, and is satisfied ; 
the evening fair, he walks with uncovered head around his 
garden ; enters again, and retires to rest, and the " rest of 
a laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much." 
Inhabitant of this lonely, lowly dwelling, who can be indif- 
ferent to thy comfort ? " Peace be to this house." 

" Let not ambition mock thy useful toil. 
Thy homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
The short and simple annals of the poor." 

2. We may consider this happiness in reference to the 
afflictmns of life. It looks like a general remedy furnished 
by the kindness of Providence, to alleviate the troubles 
which, from various quarters, we unavoidably feel while 



4 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

passing tlirough this world of " vanity and vexation of 
spirit." How many little sighing vacancies does it fill up. 
How many cloudy, nervous vapors does it chase from the 
mind. Whose frowns and gloom will not the mirth of a 
child dissipate ? What corroding anxieties will not retire 
from the attentions of a virtuous wife ? What a consolation 
is her gentleness. Who has not experienced its healing, 
enlivening influence in the day of sickness, and in the hour 
of depression ? Is your confidence frequently checked by 
the baseness and dissimulation of mankind ? Here your 
candor recovers, and you are reconciled to your fellow-crea- 
tures again. Does the behavior of too many with whom 
you have to do, cherish a dissatisfaction which sours life ? 
Here a serenity, a sweetness spreads over the mind from the 
simplicity, openness, and kindness with which you are sur- 
rounded. Are you repulsed by others ? Here you are re- 
ceived with open and welcome arms. Does the storm rage 
without ? Behold an asylum within. Here we realize 
an emblem of the Saviour : it says to us, " In the world 
ye shall have tribulation, but in me ye shall have peace." 
Here "the wicked cease from troubling," and here "the 
weary are at rest." 

3. We may consider this happiness in reference to the 
good things of this life. Without this, all will be insipid, 
all will be useless. Your titles of distinction and your robes 
of ofiice are laid aside before you enter your own dwelling. 
There the senator, the minister, the lawyer, draw back, 
and we behold only the husband, the father, the man. 
There you stand only in those relations in which nature has 
placed you. There you feel only your personal character. 
What remains after these deductions are made, ascertains 
your value. You are to judge of your worth, by the honor 
you command where rank does not overawe ; of your impor- 
tance, by the esteem and admiration you engage when de- 
prived of all adventitious appendages ; of your happiness, by 
the resources you possess to give cheerfulness and charms to 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 



those returning hours which no splendor gilds, which no 
fame inspires, and in which all the attractions of popularity 
fail : for what would it avail you to live in popular opinion, 
and to be followed with applause home to your very door, 
if you were then to be compelled to continue in the element 
of discord, the seat of strife, the house of bondage and cor- 
rection ? Imagine yourself prosperous in your affairs ; trade 
pouring in wealth, your grounds bringing forth plentifully, 
your cup ruim.ing over. Misery under your owii roof would 
be sufficient to canker your gold and silver ; to corrupt your 
abundance ; to imbitter every pleasure ; to make you groan, 
even on a costly sofa, " All this availeth me nothing." 

Sufferings from strangers are less acute than from friends. 
David magnifies the affliction he endured by the nearness 
of the quarter from which it came. "It was not an enemy 
that reproached me ; then I could have borne it : neither 
was it he that hated me, that did magnify himself against 
me ; then I would have hid myself from him. But it was 
thou, mine equal, my guide, and my acquaintance." This 
circumstance gave it all the shock of surprise, all the bitter- 
ness of disappointment, all the breach of obligation. It is 
bad to be wounded anywhere ; but to be " wounded in the 
house of a fhend " is mentioned as a peculiar aggravation. 
No foes are like those of " a man's household ;" their situa- 
tion favors hostility ; they can choose the moment of attack ; 
they can repeat the blow ; they can injure imperceptibly. 
And what can be so dreadful as to be associated with per- 
sons from whom you cannot separate, and with whom you 
cannot live ? What are occasional smiles against habitual 
frowns ? What is friendship abroad against enmity at 
home ? What is it for a man to be comfortable where he 
visits, and to be tormented where he dwells ? If our hap- 
piness flow from others — and that it does in no small degree 
is unquestionable — it will necessarily follow, that it must be 
most aflected by those to whom we are most seriously re- 
lated, and with whom we most intimately blend ; not those 
VOL. XI. 27* 



6 DOMESTIC HAPPINES3. 

whom we accidentally meet, but those with whom we daily- 
reside ; not those who touch one part of our character only, 
but those who press us on every side, 

4. Let us consider it in reference to the seductions and 
snares of the tvorld. From the danger of these there is no 
better preservative than the attractions of a family. The 
more a man feels his welfare lodged in his own house, the 
more will he prize and love it. The more he is attached to 
his wife and children, the less will he risk their peace and 
comfort by hazardous speculations and mad enterprises in 
trade. A life of innocency, regularity, and repose in the 
affections of his family, will check the rovings of restless 
ambition, and secure him from the follies of the pride of life. 
"Evil communications corrupt good manners ;" but these 
pleasing cords will draAV him back from " the counsel of the 
ungodly," "the way of simiers," "the seat of the scornful." 
In vain will he be tempted to go abroad for company or 
for pleasure, when home supplies him with both. " And 
what," says he, "are the amusements and dissipations of 
the world? I have better enjoyments already — enjoyments 
s].iringing fresh from the growth, the improvement, the culture 
of our rising charge, from our rural walks, from our social 
evenings, from our reading and conversation, from our cheer- 
ful, lively, mutual devotion. Here are pleasures perpetually 
renewed, and which never cloy. Here are entertainments 
placed easily within our reach, and which require no labo- 
rious preparation, no costly arrangement. Here I acknow- 
ledge only the dominion of nature, and follow only the bias 
of inclination. Here I have no weaknesses to hide, no mis- 
takes to dread. Here my gratihcations are attended with 
no disgrace, no remorse. They leave no stain, no sting be- 
hind. I fear no reproach from my understanding, no reck- 
oning from my conscience ; my prayers are not hindered. 
My heart is made better. I am softened, prepared for duty, 
allured to the throne of grace. And can I be induced to 
exchange all this, ye votaries of the world, for your anxi- 



DOMESTIC HAPPLNESS. 7 

eties, confusion, agitations, and expense ? Shall I part with 
my ease and independence for the trammels of your silly 
forms, the encumbrance of your fashions, the hypocrisies of 
your crowds ? Shall I resign my freedom for the privilege 
of your slavery, which so often compels you to disguise your 
sentiments, to subdue your genuine feelings, to applaud folly, 
to yawn under a lethargy of pleasure, and to sigh for the 
hour of retirement and release ? Shall I sacrifice my inno- 
cent endearments to pursue the fatal routine of your dissipa- 
tion, the end of which is heaviness, and from which you 
return deprived of seasonable rest, robbed of peace of mind, 
galled by reflection, disinclined to prayer, feeling the pres- 
ence of God irksome, and the approach of death intolera- 
ble ?" 

" Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
Of paradise that has escaped the fall ! 
Thou art not known where pleasure is adored, 
That reeling goddess with a zoneless waist : 
Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made 
Of honor, dignity, and fair renown." 

Who can help lamenting to see the valuable enjoyments of 
home sacrificed to a fondness for amusements, and a rage 
for indiscriminate intercourse with a false, unfeeling world. 
But so it is. In the circles of fashion and folly, people were 
never more social, and never less domestic, than they now 
are. The frenzy has reached all ranks and degrees. Wives 
and mothers are no longer " keepers at home." Even chil- 
dren are led into these circles of infatuation, and made to 
despise the simple and natural manners of youth. From 
mansions, and shops, and common dwellings, increasing 
numbers pour forth to balls, and assemblies, and routs, and 
concerts, and public spectacles, and theatrical entertain- 
ments ; every evening has some foreign claim. 

" Who w411 show me any good ?" is the cry. The world 
passing along hears it, and says, " Follow me, emulate this 
splendor, mix with this throng, pursue these diversions." 



Q DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

Perhaps we comply. We run, but we run in vain. The 
prize was nigh us when we began, but our folly drew us 
away from it. Let us return home, and we shall find it. 
Let us remember, that happiness prefers calmness to noise, 
and the shades to publicity ; that it depends more upon 
things cheap and common, than upon things expensive and 
singular ; that it is not an exotic which we are to import 
from the ends of the earth, but a plant which grows in our 
owTi field and in our own garden. Every man may be 
made happy, if you could induce him to make a proper esti- 
mate of happiness ; if you could keep him from judging after 
outward appearances ; if you could persuade him to stoop 
rather than to aspire, to kneel rather than to fly. To con- 
fine us to our respective stations, God has wisely rendered 
happiness only attainable in them : were it placed, not in 
the way of duty, but on the other side of the boundary, the 
very position would lead us astray, and seduce us to trans- 
gress. 

But home is not always heaven, nor is domestic life 
necessarily productive of domestic happiness. Hence, it be- 
comes needful to inquire into its sources, and examine on 
what it depends. 

It does not depend upon rank and affluence. It is con- 
fined to no particular condition : the servant may enjoy it 
as well as the master ; the mechanic as well as the noble- 
man. It exhilarates the cottage as well as the palace. 
What am I saying ? What says common opinion ? Does 
it not invariably associate more enjoyment with the lowly 
roof, than with the towering mansion? Ask those who 
have risen from inferior life, whether their satisfaction has 
increased with their circumstances ; whether they have 
never advanced to the brow of the eminence they have as- 
cended, and looking down, sighed, " Ah, happy vale, from 
how much was I sheltered while I was in thee I" There 
can be, indeed, but one opmion concerning the wretched- 



DOMESTIC HAITLNESS. 9 

ness of those who have not the necessaries of life. But 
" Nature is content with Httle, and grace with less." " Bet- 
ter is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and 
hatred therewith." " Better is a dry morsel, and quietness 
therewith, than a house full of sacrifices, and strife." This 
blessedness, then, results not from worldly things ; and we 
mention this the more readily, because some seem afraid to 
enter a state " honorable in all," because they have before 
them no openings of w^ealth. Others dread the increase of 
children as an accession of misery ; while many are waiting 
for a larger fortune, a more spacious house, and more splen- 
did furniture, before they can even tJiink of enjoying them- 
selves. 

We may also observe, that some individuals seem much 
more qualified to enjoy this happiness than others. Some 
have little taste for any thing. But others are full of life 
and sensibility ; they are susceptible of delicate impressions ; 
they love every thing tranquil, relish eveiy thing simple, 
enjoy every thing natural, and are touched and dissolved by 
a thousand pleasing circumstances which convey nothing to 
others. 

There are, how^ever, some things which have an indis- 
pensable influence in producing and maintaining the welfare 
of families, which fall more properly under our cultivation. 
Order, good temper, good sense, religions irrlnciples. These 
will bless thy dwelling, and fill thy " tabernacle with the 
voice of rejoicing." 

1. Without order you can never rule well your own 
house. "God is not the God of confusion." He loves 
order ; order pervades all his w^orks. He overlooks nothing. 
" He calleth the stars by their names ;" "he numbereth the 
hairs of our head." " He appointeth the moon for seasons, 
and the sun knoweth his going down." There is no discord, 
no clashing in all the immense, the amazing whole. He 
has interposed his authority, and enjoined us "to do every 
thing decently, and in order." And this command is founded 



10 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

in regard to our advantage. It calls upon you to lay do^^-n 
rules, and to walk by them ; to assign every thing its proper 
place, its allowance of time, its degree of importance ; to 
observe regularity in your meals, in your devotions, in your 
expenses. From order springs frugality, economy, charity. 
From order result beauty, harmony, concurrence. Without 
order there can be no government, no happiness ; peace flies 
from confusion ; disorder entangles all our aflairs, hides from 
us the end, and keeps from us the clue ; we lose self-posses- 
sion, and become miserable, because perplexed, hurried, op- 
pressed, easily provoked. 

2. Many things will arise to try your tempei' ; and he 
is unqualified for social life, Avho has no rule over his own 
spirit — " who cannot bear," to use the words of a good 
WTiter, " the frailties of his fellow-creatures with common 
charity, and the vexations of life with common patience." 
Peter, addressing wives, reminds them, that " the ornament 
of a meek and quiet spirit is, in the sight of God, of great 
price." And Solomon often mentions the opposite blemish 
in illustrating the female character : " It is better to dwell 
in a corner of the house-top, than with a brawling woman 
in a Avide house." " The contentions of a wife are a contin- 
ual dropping," and so on. \Ye should deem it invidious to 
exemplify this imperfection in one sex only ; we would ad- 
dress all equally ; and call upon )'ou, as you value a peace- 
ful abode, to maintain a control over your temper. Beware 
of passion ; say little when under irritation ; turn aside ; 
take time to reflect and to cool ; a word spoken miadvisedly 
with your lips, may produce a wound which weeks camiot 
heal. " I would reprove thee," said the philosopher, " were 
I not angry." It is a noble suggestion. Apply it in your 
reprehension of servants, and correction of children. 

But there is something against which you should be 
more upon your guard than occasional sallies of passion ; I 
mean habitual pettishness. The former may be compared 
to a brisk shower which is soon over ; the latter to a sleety, 



I 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. IX 

drizzling rain driving all the day long. The mischief which 
is such a disturber of social enjoyment, is not the anger 
which is lengthened into mahce, or vented in revenge, but 
that which oozes out in constant fretfulness, murmuring, 
and complaint ; it is that which renders a man not formi- 
dable, but troublesome ; it is that which converts him, not 
into a tiger, but into a gnat. Good-humor is the cordial, 
the balm of life. The possessor of it spreads satisfaction 
wherever he comes, and he partakes of the pleasure he gives. 
Easy in himself, he is seldom offended with those around 
him. Calm and placid within, every thing without wears 
the most favorable appearance ; while the mind agitated 
by peevishness or passion, like a ruffled pool, reflects even 
every agreeable and lovely image false and distorted. 

3. The influence and advantage of good sense are incal- 
culable. What streams, what vessels are the noisy ? They 
are the shallow, the empty. Who are the unyielding ? 
The ignorant, who mistake obstinacy for firmness. Who 
are the infallible ? They who have not reflection enough 
to see how liable and how likely we are to err ; they who 
cannot comprehend how much it adds to a man's wisdom 
to discover, and to his humility to acknowledge a fault. 
Good sense will preserve us from censoriousness ; will lead 
us to distinguish circumstances ; to draw things from the 
dark situation of prejudice which rendered them frightful, 
that we may candidly survey them in open day. Good 
sense will keep us from looking after visionary perfection. 
" The infiraiities I behold are not peculiar to my connec- 
tions ; others, if equally near, would betray the same : uni- 
versal excellence is unattainable ; no one can please in every 
thing. And who am I, to demand a freedom from imperfec- 
tions in others, while I am encompassed vdth infirmities 
myself." 

Good sense will lead us to study dispositions, peculiari- 
ties, accommodations ; to weigh consequences ; to determine 
what to observe, and what to pass by ; when to 1 j immova- 



1J2 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

ble, and when to yield. Good sense will produce good 
manners ; will keep us from taking freedoms and handling 
things roughly ; for love is delicate, confidence is tender. 
Good sense Avill never agitate claims of superiority ; it ^^all 
teach us to " submit ourselves one to another in the fear of 
God." Good sense will lead persons to regard their ovra 
duties, rather than to recommend those of others. 

4. We must go beyond all this, and remind you of those 
religious lyrinciples by which you are to be governed. 
These are to be found in the word of God ; and as many as 
walk according to this rule, mercy and peace shall be upon 
them. God has engaged, that if you Avill walk in his way, 
you " shall find rest unto your souls." 

If it be said, there are happy families without religion, 
I would answer, first, there is a difference between appear- 
ances and reality ; and further, if Ave believe the Scripture, 
this, in the highest and best sense, cannot be : " The way 
of transgressors is hard. There is no peace, saith my God, 
unto the Avicked." 

Again, religion secures those duties upon the perform- 
ance of Avhich the happiness of households depends. Would 
any man have reason to complain of servants, of children, 
or of any other relation, if they were all influenced by the 
spirit, and regulated by the dictates of the Gospel ? Much 
of rehgion lies in the discharge of these relatiA' e duties ; and 
to enforce these, religion brings forAvard motives the most 
poAA'erful, and ahvays binding — calls in conscience, and God, 
and heaA^en, and hell. 

Religion also attracts the divine blessmg, and all Ave 
possess or enjoy depends upon its smiles. God can elevate 
or sink us in the esteem of others ; he can send us business, 
or Avithhold it ; he can command or forbid thieves to rob, 
and flames to devour us ; he can render all Ave have satisfy- 
ing or distasteful ; and them that honor him, he Avill honor. 
"The house of the AA'icked shall be overthrown, but the 
tabeniacle of the upright sliall flourish. The curse of the 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 13 

Lord is in the house of the wicked ; but he blesseth the hab- 
itation of the just." 

Finally, religion prepares us for all events. If we suc- 
ceed, it keeps our prosperity from destroying us ; if we suffer, 
it preserves us from fainting in the day of adversity. It 
turns our losses into gains ; it exalts our joys into praises ; 
it makes prayers of our sighs ; and in all the uncertainties 
of time, and changes of the world, it sheds on the mind a 
"peace which passeth all understanding." It unites us to 
each other, not only as creatures, but as Christians — not 
only as strangers and pilgrims upon earth, but as heirs ol 
glory, honor, and immortality. For you must one day sep- 
arate ; it is useless to keep back the mortifying truth. It 
was the condition upon which your union was formed. 
man, it was a mortal finger upon wliich you placed the ring, 
vain emblem of perpetuity. woman, it was a dying 
hand that imposed it. After so many mutual and groAving 
attachments, to separate I What is to be done here ? 
religion, religion, come and relieve us in a case where every 
other assistance fails ; come and teach us not to wrap up our 
chief happiness in the creature ; come and bend our wills to 
the pleasure of the Almighty, and enable us to say, "It is 
the Lord, let him do as seemeth him good ;" "the Lord 
gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the 
name of the Lord ;" come and tell us that the removal of 
our friends is infinitely to their advantage — that the separa- 
tion is temporary — that a time of remiion will come — that 
we shall see their faces, and hear their voices again. 

Take two Christians who have been walking together, 
like " Zechariah and Elizabeth, in all the commandments 
and ordinances of the Lord blameless." Is the connection 
dissolved by death ? No. We take the Bible along with 
us, and inscribe on their tomb, " Pleasant in life, and in 
death not divided." Is the one removed before the other? 
He becomes an attraction to the other ; he draws him for- 
ward, and is waiting to " receive him into everlasting habi- 

VOL. XT. 2S 



14 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

tations." Let us suppose a pious family reuniting, after 
following each other successively down to the grave. How 
unhke every present meeting. Here our intercourse is 
chilled with the certainty of separation. There we shall 
meet to part no more ; we shall be for ever with each other, 
and for ever with the Lord. Now, affliction often enters our 
circle, and the distress of one is the concern of all. Then, 
we shall " rejoice with them that rejoice," but not " weep 
vrith them that weep ;" for " all tears shall be wiped from 
our eyes, and the days of our mourning shall be ended." 

Come, then, and embrace the religion of the blessed 
Jesus, tliis " one thing needful," this miiversal benefactor of 
mankind. It has " the promise of the life that now is, and 
of that which is to come." It secures our individual and 
our relative happiness ; it brings peace into our bosoms, and 
joy into om' dwellings. Let us resolve to pursue it ourselves ; 
let us enforce it upon our connections ; let us dedicate our 
tabernacles to God ; offer the morning and evening sacrifice 
of prayer and of praise ; and whatever be the determination 
of others, let us say for ourselves, " As for me and my house, 
we will serve the Lord." 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. X5 

FAMILY WORSHIP. 

The clieerfu' supper done, wi' serious face 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 

The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride. 
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 

His lyart haftets wearing thin an' bare ; 
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide 

He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
And " let us worship God," he says, with solemn air. 

They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, 

Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name, 
Or noble Elgin beats the heavenward flame, 

The sweetest far of -Scotia's holy lays : 
Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ; 

The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 

The priestlike father reads the sacred page, 

How Abram was the friend of God on high — 
Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 

With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 

Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; 

Or rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire ; t 

Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme — 
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 

How He, who bore in heaven the second name, 
Had not on earth whereon to lay his head : 



16 DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 

How his first followers and servants sped : 

The precepts sage they w^rote to many a land ; 
How he, who lone in Patmos banished, 
Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, 
And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven' 
command. 

Then, kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King 

The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," 

That thus they all shall meet in future days ; 
There ever bask in uncreated rays, 

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear. 
Together hymnmg their Creator's praise, 

In such society, yet still more dear ; 
While circhng time moves round in an eternal sphere. 

Compared with this how poor religion's pride, 

In all the pomp of method and of art. 
When men display to congregations wide 

Devotion's every grace except the heart. 
The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert, 

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; 
But haply, in some cottage far apart. 

May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul, 
And in his book of life the irmiates poor enroll. 

Then homeward all take ofi^ their several way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest : 
The parent pair their secret homage pay. 

And proffer up to heaven the warm request. 
That He who stills the raven's clamorous nest. 

And decks the hly fair in flowery pride. 
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best. 

For them and for their little ones provide ; 
But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. 

Burns. 



l¥o. 445, 



THE 



HOLY GHOST RESISTED 



The Holy Ghost is that blessed Agent who, with infinite 
condescension and tenderness, comes from heaven to earth to 
bring the wandering sinner back to God. 

And can this heavenly visitant be resisted ; and this, too, 
by the very beings whom he comes to save ? Yes, the Holy 
Ghost may be, and often has been resisted. He was resisted 
in ancient times by the great body of the Jews, Acts 7 : 51 ; 
he is resisted by many at the present day. If you are not a 
Christian, I put it solemnly to your conscience whether you 
are not resisting the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost has 
often striven with you. How have you treated his tender 
solicitations ? If you have not yielded, you have resisted. 

You RESIST the Holy Ghost ivhen you contemn or 7ieg- 
lect the "means of grace, through which he operates. The 
principal of these is the Bible. This is peculiarly his book. 
The " holy men of God " who wrote it, wrote " as they were 
moved by the Holy Ghost." How then have you treated 
the Bible ? When it has spread before you the character of 
God in all its excellence, and commanded you to love it ; 
when it has depicted your own guilty character, and com- 
manded you to repent ; when it has pointed you to the Lord 
Jesus as the only sufficient Saviour, and invited and urged 
you to believe on him ; when it has presented all the solemn, 
tender, and melting motives which heaven, earth, and hell 
supply, and has besought, entreated, and warned you to flee 
from the wrath to come, and lay hold on eternal life, have 
you yielded to its expostulations — have you obeyed its com- 
mands ? If not, then have you resisted the Holy Ghost. 

Sometimes the truths of the Bible have been urged upon 
your conscience by the living lyreacher, Avith all the solem- 
nity of divine authority, and all the earnestness of Christian 
benevolence ; sometimes by the tender voice of friendship ; 
sometimes by solemn and alarming providences. Have you 

VOL. XI. 28* 



2 THE HOLY GHOST RESISTED. 

still refused to yield ? 0, then, with what fixed and bold 
determination have you resisted the Holy Ghost. 

But the Holy Spirit comes yet nearer. He enters the 
mind, arrests the attention, produces a deep and awd'ul con- 
viction of the reality and importance of eternal things, arouses 
the conscience, awakens a painful sense of guilt and fearful 
apprehension of coming wrath, and impresses upon the soul 
the necessity of immediate efibrt to secure salvation. Such 
an influence the reader has doubtless somictimes felt. How 
have you treated it ? Have you yielded, or resisted ? 

There are many ways of resisting the Holy Ghost. It is 
sometimes done by a bold and impious resolution to stifle all 
sense of guilt and danger ; and when this alone is not found 
effectual, by plunging more deeply into worldly business — 
by resorting to scenes of pleasure, to the society of the gay, 
to books of amusement, to any tlmig that will help to ban- 
ish thoughts of God and eternity, of Christ, and heaven, and 
hell. Have you never thus resisted the Holy Ghost ? 

The Holy Ghost is resisted by refusing to comply witli 
his suggestions. He urges to repent of sin ; to give up every 
unjust pursuit ; to relinquish every sinful pleasure ; to for- 
sake ungodly companions ; to choose the company of the 
pious ; to take up the cross and follow Christ, trusting in him 
alone for salvation. 

The Holy Ghost is resisted by procrastination. The 
Spirit presses to immediate repentance. The sinner's heart 
replies, " When I have a convenient season I Avill call for 
thee." But the Holy Spirit allows no delay. You cannot 
defer for a day, an hour, a moment, without resisting the 
Holy Ghost. 

Does the guilt of resisting the Holy Ghost lie upon you ? 
And WHAT IS THAT GUD^T ? 0, who can tell ? What finite 
mind can grasp its magnitude ? 

In resisting the Holy Ghost, you directly resist God. 
And Avho or what are you that you should take the attitude 
of resistance to the greatest and best Being in the universe ? 
a worm of the dust, a breathing atom, against Him who 
made and rules the worlds — a sinner, upheld from perdition 
by mere mercy, against Him whom angels adore, and all 
holy beings delight to obey I 

You resist God 171 his most amiable character and love- 
liest aspect, engaged in the work in which he unfolds his 



THE HOLY GiiOST RESISTED. 3 

brightest glory. He comes to you as the God of salvation, 
to transform you into his own image and adopt you into his 
family, that he may place you before his throne as an ever- 
lasting monument and bright illustration of his wisdom and 
love, his truth and mercy. 

What black ingratitude is involved in such resistance. 
He comes to make you happy — to deliver you from the power 
of sin, the most cruel of all tyrants — to bring you into recon- 
ciliation with God — to give you the peace of an approving 
conscience, the joy of sins forgiven, the assurance of divine 
favor, and the hope of everlasting life. He comes to enrich 
you for eternity — to make you an " heir of God, and joint- 
heir with Christ" — to bestow upon you honor, glory, and 
immortality — happiness which eye hath not seen, nor ear 
heard, nor hath entered into the heart of man, to last through- 
out un wasting ages. 

In resisting the Holy Ghost you would rob God of his 
glory, and defeat the purposes of his infinite love in the gift 
of his Son. You show a most inveterate hatred of holiness, 
and love of sin. You set an example of rebellion, which, if 
followed universally, would spread anarchy, darkness, and 
woe over the universe. 

And ivill such guilt go unpunished ? " Who hath har- 
dened himself against God and prospered ?" " Woe imto 
him that striveth with his Maker." As sins against the 
Holy Ghost are of a peculiarly deep dye, so their punishment 
wdll be certain and dreadful. " He that shall blaspheme 
against the Holy Ghost," says Christ, "hath never forgive- 
ness, but is in danger of eternal damnation." Resistance, it 
is true, is not blasphemy ; but is it not a kindred sin ? Does 
it not make a near aj^proximation to it in guilt and danger ? 

God may visit you ivith overiohelming veyigeance ac- 
cording to his threatening. " He that, being often reproved, 
hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that 
without remedy." Or, which will be equally fatal. 

He may utterly withdraio the Sjnrit from you. " My 
Spirit shall not always strive with man." This solemn dec- 
laration he has often fulfilled. The Israelites in the wilder- 
ness " rebelled and vexed his Holy Spirit," and " He sware 
in his wrath, that they should not enter into his rest." 
" Ephraim is joined to his idols, let him alone.'" And how 
did the Saviour weep over Jerusalem. " If thou hadst 



4 THE HOLY GHOST RESISTED. 

known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things that 
belong unto thy peace ; but '}wiv they are hid from thine 
eyes'' 

How often in later years has the Spirit striven, con- 
science been awakened, and the sinner trembled and cried, 
" What shall I do to be saved ?" but his heart rose in oppo- 
sition to the terms of the Gospel ; he was unwilling to give 
up the world — could not part with his sinful pleasures, and 
embrace a life of self-denial and godliness. He resisted the 
Spirit, and the Spirit left him. Like the blasted fig-tree, he 
has stood the remnant of his days without fruit, leaf, or 
flower — seared, withered, dead, and prepared in no common 
degree for the flames that never can be quenched. 

how wretched, how hoj^eless is the condition of him 
from whom God has utterly withdrawn his Spirit. Nothing 
will ever efiectually awaken him — nothing melt his obdu- 
rate heart, or bow his stubborn will. Nothing awaits him 
but the blackness of darlmess for ever, " Except a man be 
born of water mid of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the 
kingdom of God." Mercies, means, privileges, warnings, and 
judgments only harden his heart, and prepare him for a deeper 
damnation. 

Such will be your case, if you continue to resist the Holy 
Ghost. And in the world of woe, how agonizing will be 
the thought that your own folly and rashness brought you 
there. The Spirit strove with you — urged you with infinite 
tenderness to repent — pointed you to a Saviour's blood — held 
out the promise of life — warned you of coming wrath, bttt 
you would not hear. You resisted all his gracious influ- 
ences. He was willing, but yoic ivmdd not. While eternal 
ages roll, this dreadful thought will still ring in your ears 
and pierce your soul, that yoit destroyed yourself. 

0, my friend, if you do not wish to be " tormented day 
and night for ever and ever ' ' with such reflections, no longer 
resist the Holy Ghost. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 440. 



THE 



STRICKEN BRIDE. 



It was not the privilege of Mary G to be nurtured 

in the lap of parental piety. From childhood she was placed 
almost beyond the reach of religious instruction, and the 
hallowed associations of the Sabbath-day and the house of 
God. Her father had early removed to the shores of Lake 
Erie, secluded by location and choice from Christian society 
and the influences of the Gospel. He rejected evangelical 
religion, its professors and ministers, and was Imown as a 
sort of deistical Universalist. 

In the midst of such influences the daughter was reared, 
and from them went out to the duties and trials of life. She 
was not destitute of accomplishments ; but of even first truths 
in religion she was almost wholly ignorant. To the tone 
and manifestations of piety at the domestic fireside, or in 
social life, she was utterly a stranger, and was filled with 
prejudice and dread of all who bore the name of Christ. 

At the age of twenty she was married to Mr. G , 

who located himself in a pious family of my congregation ; 
and there it was that this joyous bride Avas stricken down 
by the hand of God in the mornmg of her gayety and mirth- 
fulness, and laid upon the bed of death. I knew of her 
dangerous illness, but such were her associations, that it was 
not until after repeated calls on the family that I obtained 
an interview Avith her. 

Disease had, indeed, made sad ravages. Beauty had 
faded from the cheek of the blooming bride. A hectic flush 
was there — she was sinking in a rapid decline. Approach- 
ing the bedside, I remarked, " I hardly expected to find you 
so ill, and yet I know there is One who can rebuke disease 
and restore you. It is safe to be in his hands, in life or 
death, if our hearts are right. There is peace in Christ 
which the world cannot give, and it is sustaining and com- 
forting to the soul, even when leavmg all things else. The 
Psalmist could say, ' The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not 
want ; yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow 



2 THE STRICKEN BRIDE. 

of death. I will fear no evil, for thou art with me ; thy rod 
and thy staff they comfort me.' Christians speak of support 
in a dying hour — of victory over the grave — of ' desiring to 
depart and be with Christ.' May you, my friend, find these 
supports, and have fellowship in these joys." 

With these words I left the room. But my visit Avas, 

with Mrs. G , a subject of thought and conversation. 

She had never contemplated a Christian minister as a sym- 
pathizing friend, or religion as a matter of experience and 
consolation. To her surprise there was kindness in the mes- 
sage. It held companionship with the wants of one sick 
and dying, and was as a ministering angel along that untrod- 
den ground over which disease was carrying her, and where 
other friends were dumb, and other supports vanished. 

"I am glad Mr. S was invited up," she said; "if 

he shall call again, I shall be willing to see him." The 
truths presented had struck a chord in her sensitive and im- 
ploring bosom which had never been reached before. 

My next visit was of greater length and freedom of in- 
struction. "Diseases," I remarked, " are from God, who does 
not but for good reasons affhct us. They are his messengers, 
sent often to draw us from the ways of sin, and make us 
eternally happy m loving and serving huii. "We find them 
only mercies in disguise, calling us to reflection, to piety, and 
to God. 

" As we cannot avoid death, it is wise to provide against 
it. God has claims on us, which we have left wholly undis- 
charged. He is a holy God, and we are sinners ; we have 
broken his righteous law, and lie under its condemnation, 
children of wrath, because children of disobedience. Eter- 
nal life is forfeited, and we may justly be left to perish in 
our sins. 

" And is there, then, no hope — no resort for us ? 0, it 
is when I think of myself and you, my friend, and sinners 
like us, that I love to remember that God has proclaimed 
himself ' the Lord God, merciful and gracious, forgiving 
iniquity, and transgression, and sin.' I love to think of the 
Saviour he has provided ; and how he has said, ' Come unto 
me, all ye w^ho labor and are heavy laden, and I wdll give 
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, and ye 
shall find rest to your souls.' " 

The attention of Mrs. G was becoming more and 



THE STRICKEN BRIDE. 3 

more fixed as I proceeded, and at this point her eye fastened 
on me, as if without support in her extremity, and imploring 
help. " I did not expect sickness and the grave so soon," 
she said ; "do you think, sir, there can be any help for one 
so destitute and unprepared?" 

" None in yourself," I replied. " In God alone is your 
help. With him there is forgiveness. Through Christ there 
is a fountain open for sin — to that you may come now in 
your utmost need. The invitation is, ' Ho, every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters.' Divine compassion yearns 
over our state as sinners, even in our greatest extremity, and 
lifts its melting accents in our ear, ' Turn, for why will ye 
die ?' There is free remission, through the blood of Christ, 
for ever}^ contrite and penitent spirit. ' Repentance towards 
God and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ,' are just the 
state of mind which meets the terms of mercy. Here God 
accepts us — here forgiveness reaches us, and we have peace 
in Christ. This is the refuge of the dying simier, and you, 
my dear friend, will find help and hope here." I saw she 
was in tears, and retired after repeating those sweet lines, 
" Jesus, lover of my soul," etc. 

The next day I received a message from Mrs. G , 

requesting another visit. I found her calm, thoughtful, and 
inquiring. The subject of the previous instructions had 
been the theme of her waking and her sleeping hours ; and 
her mind was evidently now swinging round from the moor- 
ings of this world, and endeavoring to gain anchorage by the 
doctrines and religion of the cross. She saw how utterly in- 
sufficient were all worldly helps to the pressing necessities of 
her condition, and was " striving to enter in at the strait gate." 

" The promise is, ' Seek, and ye shall find,' " I said. " God 
is nigh unto all them that call upon him — his compassions 
are ready and beforehand in behalf of the first emotions of 
contrition, penitence, and love. Your health," I reminded 
her, " does not admit of great intellectual exertion now, nor 
does the case require it. Only give up sin, and yield to 
truth, duty, obligation, and the constraining love of God. 
Only sink in penitence at the foot of the cross, as one all un- 
holy and mideserving, and look up in faith to Him who died 
upon it. Pardon, and peace, and joy, and hope immortal, 
spring up there." I read from Psalm 51, and 2 Cor., chap- 
ters 4 and 5, and closed the interview with prayer. 



4 THE STRICKEN BRIDE. 

But her mind was full of the subject. Her confidence 
was coming wholly over to the resources of the Gospel. The 
Gospel met the exigencies of her case, which nothing else did. 
It held converse with her inmost soul — proffered light in her 
darkness, joy in her sorrow, hope m her fears and despond- 
ency. It dispelled the gloom and dread of the grave, and 
pointed to the sweet assurance of bliss in heaven. It satis- 
fied conscience, showed how a just God is reconciled and 
the burden of sin removed, and was equal to the pressure of 
all her wants. Her full soul responded to it ; she took refuge 
in its provisions, and found peace in its embrace. From 
that time she could not hear too much about the Gospel. 
She called its friends around her, and expressed disappoint- 
ment if the visits of her pastor were intermitted. She faith- 
fully warned her family friends, and spoke to them of her 
consolations in religion. She delighted in praising God, and 
often requested us to sing such pieces as " The Dying Chris- 
tian," and " Rock of Ages." One morning she said, " I have 
had a very happy night. In meditating upon Christ and 
his redemption, my whole soul was filled with delight. What 
happiness can equal that of communion with Him ?" 

It was, indeed, a hallowed spot, and I could well appre- 
ciate these expressions in one whose cup of joy was full to 
overflowing, by the sweet gushings of new and overpower- 
ing truth, and whose heart was made glad by the presence 
of the Holy Spirit. It was, too, her anointing for the grave. 
The lamp of life was already trembling in its socket. She 
continued but a few days, and then, serene as evening twi- 
light, "fell asleep," we trust, '' in Jesus,'" though not per- 
mitted to bear the fruits of piety in a godly life on earth. 

May no one be left to pervert this narrative, and grieve 
the Spirit of God, by deferring repentance to the close of life. 
May it rather prompt to pastoral fidelity in behalf of the sick 
and dying ; suggest the importance of appropriate instruction 
in the chamber of sickness ; and encourage the despairing 
sinner to look to Jesus, and cast himself into the arms of 
rich and sovereign mercy, if so be he may fhid it, even at 
the eleventh hour. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 447. 



WHY SHOULD I STUDY THE BIBLE ? 



1. Because it is the word of my best F'riend, and the 
study of it is enjoined by him. " All Scripture is given by 
inspiration of God." 2 Tim, 3: 16. "For the prophecy 
came not in old time by the will of man ; but holy men of 
God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." 2 Pet. 
1 ; 21. "Therefore shall ye lay up these my words in 
your heart and in your soul." Deut. 11 : 18. "Search 
the Scriptures ; for in them ye think ye have eternal life : 
and they are they which testify of me." John 5 : 39. 

2. Because of its ivonderful and j^erfect character. "0 
the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge 
of God." Rom. 11 : 33. *'Thy testimonies are wonderful: 
therefore doth my soul keep them." Psalm 119 : 129. 
" Thy counsels of old are faithfulness and truth." Isa. 
25 : 1. "The word of God is quick, and powerful, and 
sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the 
dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and 
marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of 
the heart." Heb. 4: 12. "The word of the Lord endur- 
eth for ever." 1 Pet. 1 : 25. 

3. Because of its gracious design and tendency. "The 
law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul; the testi- 
mony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. More 
to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much tine gold : 
sweeter also than honey and the honey-comb. Moreover, by 
them is thy servant warned : and in keeping of them there 
is great reward." Ps. 19 : Y, 10, 11. "Whatsoever things 
were written aforetime, were written for our learning, that 
we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might 
have hope." Romans 15:4. "AVhich are able to make 
thee wise unto salvation, through faith Avhich is in Christ 
Jesus." 2 Tim. 3 : 15. 

4. Because it is necessary to my spiritual nourishment 
and stability. " Man shall not live by bread alone, but by 
every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." 
Matt. 4 : 4. " A^ove all, taking the shield of faith, where- 

VOL. XL 29 . 



2 WHY SHOULD I STUDY THE BIBLE? 

Avith ye shall be able to quencli all the fiery darts of the 
wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword 
of the Spirit, which is the word of God. That henceforth 
ye be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about 
with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and 
cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive ; but 
speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all 
things, who is the head, even Christ." Eph. 6:16, 11 ; 
4: 14, 15. 

5. Because it will enlighten and ex'pand mymind. "The 
commandment is a lamp ; and the law is li,Q:ht ; and re- 
proofs of instruction are the way of life." Pro v. 6 : 23. 
" The entrance of thy words giveth light ; it giveth under- 
standing unto the simple." Ps. 119 : 130. " Meditate upon 
these things ; give thyself wholly to them ; that thy profit- 
ing may appear to all." 1 Tim. 4 : 15. 

6. Because \t \;\[\ 2yr€serve me from sin. "Wherewith 
shall a young man cleanse his way ? By taking heed thereto 
according to thy word. Thy word have I hid in my heart, 
that I might not sin against thee." Psalm 119 : 9, 11. 
" Concerning the Avorks of men, by the word of thy lips I 
have kept me from the paths of the destroyer." Psalm 
17 : 4. "Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is 
truth." John 17^: IV. 

7. Because it will cheer my soul in affliction and death. 
" In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts 
delight ray soul." Psalm 94 : 19. "Thy statutes have 
been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage. Unless thy 
law had been my delights, I should have perished in mine 
affliction." Psalm 119 : 54, 92. "Yea, though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
evil ; for thou art with me : tliy rod and thy staflt" they com- 
fort me." Psalm 23 : 4. 

8. Because it will contribute to my present and eternal 
welfare. " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the 
man that getteth understanding. For the merchandise of 
it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain 
thereof than fine gold. Her ways are ways of pleasant- 
ness, and all her paths are peace. Blessed is the man that 
heareth me, watching daily at my gates ; for whoso findeth 
me, findeth life, and shall obtain favor of the Lord." Prov. 

3 : 13, 14. 17; 8 : 34, 35. 



WHY tiliuUl.D I STUDY THE BIBLE ? 3 

9. Because the nerjlect of it ivill subject me to God's 
righteous condemnation. " See that ye refuse not him that 
speaketh. For if they escaped not who refused him that 
spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we (urn 
away from him that speaketh from heaven." Heb. 12 : 25. 
" For whosoever shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, 
of him shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he shall 
come in his own glory, and in his Father's, and of the holy 
angels." Luke 9 : 26. 

HOW SHOULD I STUDY THE BIBLE ? 

Prayerfully. '' Open thou mine eyes, that I may be- 
hold wondrous things out of thy law. Give me understand- 
ing, and I shall keep thy law ; yea, I shall observe it with 
my whole heart." Psalm 119 : 18, 34. 

Constantly. "This book of the law shall not depart 
out of thy mouth ; but thou shalt meditate therein day and 
night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that 
is written therein ; for then thou shalt make thy way pros- 
perous, and then thou shalt have good success." Joshua 
1 :8. 

Meekly. *' As new-born babes, desire the sincere milk 
of the word, that ye may grow thereby." 1 Pet. 2 : 2. 
" Receive with meekness the ingrafted word, which is able 
to save your souls." James 1:21. 

Retentively. " And these words Avhich I command thee 
this day, shall be in thine heart." Deut. 6:6. " Receive, 
I pray thee, the law from his mouth, and lay up his words 
in thine heart." Job 22 : 22. "Let the word of Christ 
dwell in you richly in all wisdom." Col. 3 : 16. 

Practically. "Be ye doers of the word, and not hear- 
ers only, deceiving your own selves. For whoso looketh 
into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he 
being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this 
man shall be blessed in his deed." James 1 : 22, 25. 

EXAMPLES OF EMINENT REGARD TO THE BIBLE. 

Jerome said, "he never went to meals without some 
part of the Scriptures being read ; never to sleep till some 
about him had read them to him." Luther gave himself 
with incredible ardor to the study of the Scriptures. Bishop 
Ridley says, " The wall and trees of my orchard, couid they 



4 WHY SHOULD I rfTUDY THE BIBLE? 

speak, would bear witness that there I learned by heart 
almost all the epistles ; of which stud}^ although in time 
the greater part was lost, yet the sweet savor thereof, I 
trust, I shall carry with me to heaven." The celebrated 
John Locke applied himself closely to the study of the 
Scriptures for fourteen or fifteen years ; and employed the 
last period of his life in scarcely any thing else. The Hon. 
and Rev. W. B. Cadogan, who studied the Bible day and 
night in the original languages, said, " I have no patience 
now to read Homer, Virgil, or Horace, whom I used to 
idolize." The Rev. James Hervey said, *'We fail in our 
duty, and thwart our comfort, by studying God's holy word 
no more. I have, for my part, been too fond of reading 
every thing elegant and valuable that has been penned in 
our own language ; and been particularly charmed with the 
historians, orators, and poets of antiquity. But were I to 
renew my studies, I would sit at my divine Master's feet, 
and desire to know nothing but Jesus, and him crucified. 
This wisdom, Avhose fruits are peace in life, consolation in 
death, and everlasting salvation after death, I would trace ; 
this I would seek ; this I would explore, through the spa- 
cious and dehghtful fields of the Old and New Testament." 
Go thou, and do likewise. Blessings the most alluring, 
Substantial, and enduring, call you to it — blessings insepa- 
rably allied with your present and future happiness. Then 
you shall feel the quickening, enlightening, and comforting 
influence of the truth in your own mind. Then you will 
grow in grace and in the knowledge of Jesus Christ the 
Lord. Then you will stand fast in the truth. Above all, 
then you will be preparing for those blest mansions where 
they see face to face, and know even as they are known. 

" Read and revere the sacred page : a page 
Where triumphs immortality : a page 
Which not the Avhole creation can produce ; 
Which not the conflagTation can destroy." 

Youn?. 



PUBLISHED BY THE A3IERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



?io. 448. 



WHY SIT YE HERE IDLE? 



This significant and stirring inquiry was addressed by 
the prophet to his countiymen, when threatened with war, 
famine, and pestilence, as the punishment of their great sins. 
He seems to see the sorest calamities just ready to overwhelm 
them ; he drops the thread of prophecy, and cries out, Why 
do we sit still, till destruction overtake us ? Let us flee into 
the defenced cities, and seek a refuge from threatening evils. 

Fellow-citizen, fellow-sinner, whoever you may be, pardon 
me, if I seem abruptly to address this inquiry to you. A 
case so urgent, and so deeply involving your dearest inter- 
ests, admits of no delay. Methinks I see ijoifr threatened with 
war, famine, and pestilence ; a disastrous war with God, a 
famine of the bread of life, and a pestilence that kills the 
soul. And I cannot refrain from asking, in all the urgency 
of an affectionate solicitude for your eternal Avell-being, Why 
sit you here idle ? 

Do you say, I have nothing to do ? A sin^ier nothing to 
do, who has a life of sin to repent of, a world of sin within 
him to subdue, another world of sin about him to reclaim, 
and a hell of endless sui and miser}' yaAvning before him to 
escape ; who has not yet entered upon the work of securing 
the pardon of his sins and the salvation of his soul ; who has 
yet to decide between death and life, between heaven and 
hell ! Surely you have enough to do : you have a work as- 
signed you as the business of life. Life was given you for 
no other purpose than to do it. 

And it is a great and difhcult work. For a sinner to be- 
come a Christian, a child of hell an heir of heaven, is a work 
of such unequalled magnitude, and such extreme difficulty, 
that you are exhorted in the Scriptm*es to strive and ago- 
nize for its accomplishment, to take the kingdom of heaven 
by violence ; and you are told, that, so far from being able 
to do it at any moment without much effort, it is impossible 
VOL. XI. 29* 



2 WHY SIT YE HERE IDLE ? 

for you to do it by your unaided exertions ; so that if, by sit- 
ting idle, you weary out the patience of God, and forfeit his 
help, you will never be able to accomplish it, and will lose 
your soul. Why then will you sit idle ? 

JSTot because God interposes any obstacles to your salva- 
tion. Look, I pray you, at what God hath sacrihced in the 
person of the Father, and suffered in the person of the Son, 
and done in the person of the Spirit, for your salvation. Look 
at all the declarations of liis word, and the arrangements of 
his providence, and the provisions of his grace, and tell me 
what more he could have done for you than he has already 
done. And liaA'e you the hardihood, have you the injustice 
and ingratitude, in the face of all this, to charge him with 
unwillingness that you should be saved ? Why then sit 
idle ? 

Not because others will do this great work for you. God 
desires to have it done, wdth a strength of feeling and an 
ardor of love for your soul, which you cannot conceive, which 
words camiot express, which can be set forth only by such 
signs of infinite significance as. the incarnation of his Son, the 
bloody agonies of the garden, the atoning sacrifice on the 
cross, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. But it is you who 
must repent and believe, who must trust in the merits of 
Christ, and cherish the influences of the Spirit. Pious par- 
ents and Christian friends can pray for you, and labor with 
you, and weep over you, but they cannot shed the tear of 
penitence, nor ofier the prayer of the publican in your stead, 
nor in your stead become reconciled to God ; no, nor in your 
stead sufler the wrath of God and the pains of hell for ever. 
Your own eye must see, and your own ear hear, and your 
own heart feel. Yourself must rejDcnt and believe, and love 
and act in the most vigorous exercise of your best powers 
and affections. You must give an account of yourself before 
God. And your own soul must be saved or lost, ineffably 
happv or unutterably miserable for ever. Why then sit 
idle ] 

Is ot because it is a matter of so small importance whether 
the work is done or not, that it may safely be left to take 
care of itself. Sit idle, and so far from doing the work, or 
its being done for you, you are doing the opposite with your 
might. Sit idle, and you are lifting your arm in rebellion 
against God. Sit idle, and your feet are swift in the road to 



WHY SIT YE HERE IDLE ? 3 

hell. Do this work, and you have done all that chiefly con- 
cerns you. Neglect it, and you have done nothing that is 
oi" any value. You have wasted your time, perverted your 
talents, thrown away yourself at one fearful cast for ever. 
And what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, 
and lose liimself? Why then sit idle ? 

Not because you have any too much time for doing this 
work. God gives us time for this purpose, and for no other. 
Every man feels, when he lies upon his dying bed, that the 
whole of life wisely devoted, was not a moment too much to 
make his calling and election sure. Yet you have spent ten, 
twenty, thirty, forty years, without entering upon the great 
business of life. Have you anymore time to throw away — 
you, who never had too much, and yet have wasted one-half, 
two-thirds, perhaps nearly all of it, perhaps all but the very 
last day or hour ? Do you still linger ? 

Think not that other beings and other things Avill stand 
still and wait for your action. Every thing else will move 
on, whether you do or not. Life will flee apace, and death 
will hurry on. Death never stands still : he has already 
begun his work on you, he will not stop till he has finished 
it, and he will finish it far sooner than you expect. Time 
will roll away, and eternity draw near. Time never stands 
still : it rolls, it flies away, like the vapor ; like the lightning 
flash, it appears for an instant, and then darts away, to be 
seen no more. God never sits still. Give thanks to him 
that he does not fail to cause the sun to rise and the rain to 
descend. He wdll carry forward the wheels of nature, and 
the arrangements of his providence, and the designs of his 
grace, and all his steadfast purposes. Christ never sits still. 
What if he had remained in the bosom of the Father, or 
should now suspend his work of intercession ? He will build 
up his kingdom and gather in his elect, and bring you to his 
judgment-seat, and show your naked soul to your own eye 
and to the assembled universe, and pronounce upon you the 
irreversible sentence of blessing or cursing, and send you to 
heaven or hell, where you will sit idle no more ; where you 
will do your appointed work, and do it well, and keep doing 
it without cessation, and without end : for so do all in the un- 
seen world. Heaven is never idle. Saints and angels serve 
God day and night in his temple. They never need and 
never wish to rest in their seraphic work. And it is the 



4 WHY SIT YE HERE IDLE ? 

perfection of their state, that the period will never arrive 
when they will be inactive. They will work on, and sing 
on, and shine on for ever. And when they have outlived 
their own highest conception of a happy eternity, it will be 
the perfection of their bliss that it is yet to be eternal. 

Hell is never still. De\T.ls, and lost men too, have no 
rest day nor night, no rest in sinning, no rest in suffering, no 
rest in sinking deeper and deeper still in remorse, and de- 
spair, and shame, and everlasting contempt : 

" Burning continually, yet unconsumed ; 
For ever wasting, yet enduring still ; 
Dying perpetually, yet never dead : 
Where there are groans that never end, and sighs 
That always sigh, and tears that ever weep, 
And ever fall, but not in Mercy's sight." 

Iso ; they never sit idle in hell, and they never will ; and 
that is the keenest pang in their suflerings. When they 
have groaned out a period longer than their utmost imagi- 
nation of an eternity, it will be the bitterest ingredient in 
their cup — the deep still lower than the lowest deep in 
hell — that it is yet to be eternal. 

Have you yet to choose between these two worlds ? for 
in one or the other you must dwell, and must work for ever. 
Why then, why sit idle ? How will you answer the ques- 
tion to your own understandmg, to your conscience, to your 
duty, to your interest, to the world, and to God ? Sit idle, 
when property and reputation, and health and life are at 
stake ; sit unmoved before the lion's paw, at the cannon's 
mouth, at the edge of the precipice, on the brink of the cat- 
aract, and I will hold my peace. But I cannot keep silence 
and see you sit idle in a world of probation, in a Christian 
land, on the eve of the judgment, on the brink of eternity, 
on the dividing line between an eternal heaven and an eter- 
nal hell. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]\o. 449, 



WOULD YOU BE HAPPY? 



Who would not ? Happiness is the desire and aim of 
all men. The desire is instinctive. Every man, every 
child, is conscious of its existence and its influence. It 
moves every mind, sways the emotions of every heart, gov- 
erns and controls the actions of every life. "VYe are formed 
for happiness. The creatures around us are so, and whether 
they soar in the air, or browse in the meadow, or swim in 
the lake, the river, and the ocean — all, in their several 
spheres, and to the full measure of their several capacities, 
realize the enjoyment of which they are susceptible, and 
which has been designed and provided for them by the be- 
neficent and bountiful Creator. 

But are men thus happy ? History, experience, con- 
science, all concur in testifying to the contrast which, in this 
respect, exists between them and the creatures that surround 
them. Your conscience, nay reader, confirms the sad and 
melancholy truth. You are not licqjpy. Healthy you may 
be — you have food to eat, and raiment to put on — you are 
not a stranger to the comfort of a home, the sympathy and 
the solace of friendship, the endearments of domestic life, 
the multiplied advantages of social intercourse, and the 
manifold benefits resulting from educational attainments. 
To you, history unfolds her ample page, poetry pours forth 
her melodious numbers, science reveals her exuberant re- 
sources, and art exhibits, m endless variety of forms, her 
fascinating mimicry of nature. 

Still, you are not happy — no ; and if these sources of 
enjoyment were multiplied a thousand-fold, and each a thou- 
sand times more copious, they could not secure to you that 
inestimable boon. The eye coidd not be satisfied with see- 
ing, nor the ear with hearing, nor the heart with enjoying 
all that earth can offer or bestow. Why ? Because all 
could not fill the capacities, allay the anxieties, or meet the 
anticipated destiny of the human mind. Must you, then. 



2 WOULD YOU BE HAPPY ? 

my reader, ought you to forego the hope, to rehnquish the 
pursuit of iLapiyincss ? Assuredly not. This were to resist 
the first law of nature — to do violence to all the instincts 
of your constitution — to counteract the purpose and the will 
of God. He has made you to be happy. He has provided 
the means, prescribed the method, furnished all the requisite 
facilities for attaining and securing all the enjoyment which 
your most enlarged capacities, your most expanded desires 
can demand. 

More than twenty years since, the \ATiter became ac- 
quamted, in the capital of Russia, with a man who had 
devoted all the energies of a great mind, and all the sensi- 
bilities of a benevolent heart, to the mitigation of human 
misery. He had been a merchant in extensive business, but 
dissolved his secular connections, and gave himself to the 
hallowed work of personally ministering to the temporal 
and spiritual necessities of the most wretched of his race. 
He sought, and obtained the countenance and confidence of 
the emperor, and under his auspices gained access to the 
prisons both of the ancient and the modem capital — intro- 
duced many improvements into the discipline of those recep- 
tacles of crime — and was soon hailed as the friend and ben- 
efactor of the Avorst outcasts of society. 

At this period, the writer first knew him, and enjoyed 
many precious seasons of free, fraternal fellowship. " We 
took sAveet counsel together," and often did we kneel at a 
throne of mercy and plead the promise, " If tico of you agree 
on earth, as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall 
be done for them of my Father." He had once sought 
happiness in the business and pleasures of the world. But 
light broke in upon his mind. He was convinced of sin. 
The earnest, contrite, importunate petition of the publican 
became his own — "God be merciful to me a sinner" — and 
the prayer was answered. He heard and believed that 
" faithful saying, that Christ Jesus came into the world to 
save sinners." He found " peace and joy in believing," and 
the calm serenity which ever sat upon his noble counte- 
nance, was but the reflection of that " peace of God which 
passeth all understanding," and which "ruled" supremely 
"in his heart." 0, how eloquently, how energetically 
would he expatiate on the sublime realities of the Christian 
faith. With what intense thankfulness and unfeigned hu- 



WOULD YOU BE HAPPY? 3 

mility would he adore the riches of redeeming and adopting 
grace. Had you seen him, my reader, had you heard him, 
you would have said, "This is happiness. How nobly does 
religion here assert and vindicate her claims to my homage 
and esteem. What but her enlightening, sanctifying, soul- 
enriching influence, could have given such vigor of thought, 
such vividness of conception, such sublimity of sentiment, 
such sacredness of feeling, such sweetness of disposition, 
such suavity of address, such exuberant and inexhaustible 
benevolence of heart ?" 

His heart yearned over the selected objects of his philan- 
thropic efforts. He daily visited their gloomy cells, read 
and expounded to them " the word of God, the gospel of 
salvation ;" and often was he gladdened by the sight of the 
penitential tear bursting from the eye, and falling on the 
manacles and chains of the awakened malefactor. It was 
during one of these visits of mercy, while inhaling the pol- 
luted atmosphere of a wretched prison-house, that he was 
seized with a malig-nant fever, which, in a few weeks, ter- 
minated his Christian course. He died as he lived, believ- 
ing in Him who is " the death of death," and meekly rejoic- 
ing in hope of the glory of God. His memory will long 
survive ; it is inscribed indelibly on many a grateful heart ; 
and the casual visitor of the English and American burial- 
ground in the Vasili Ostrou will turn aside and view, with 
peculiar emotion, the simple monument which imperial 
gratitude and admiration have erected over all that was 
mortal of " the second Howard," W V , Esq. 

But "his record is on high" — ^his name, his character, 
his holy and heavenly conversation, are inseparably blended 
with the recollections and the spiritual history of surviving 
friends. He had a brother, for whose spiritual interests, 
with those of his lady, he was intensely anxious. This 
brother was wealthy, and lived in the full enjoyment of all 
that wealth could purchase. Princes and nobles were his 
frequent guests, and even Alexander occasionally sat at his 
elegant and hospitable board. But he was never ha^ypy — 
never, until, won by the meekness, and gentleness, and 
placid tranquillity of his brother, he began to inquire into 
causes of efiects like these. He soon found the explanation 
which he sought. He heard, believed, and obeyed the 
gospel of the grace of God. He chose "the kingdom of 



4 WOULD YOU BE HAPPY? 

God and his righteousness" as his spiritual portion. Con- 
fiding in the merits of Christ's propitiation, he asked and 
obtained the forgiveness of his sins, acceptance with God, 
the spirit of adoption, the blessed hope of a glorious immor- 
tality. With all that ardor and intensity of zeal which an 
enlightened perception of divine truth and the indulgence 
of sanctified love only could produce, he now sought that 
his beloved partner might be a partaker of the happiness he 
enjoyed — the hope he entertained. She was accomplished, 
amiable, warmly attached to her husband, yet absorbed in 
the gay amusements of the world, and scorned the humili- 
ating, self-sacrificing doctrine of the cross. These brief 
pages do not allow us to narrate the changes wrought in 
her mind ; but she evidently became a Chrutian indeed — 
meekly sitting at the feet of Jesus — her heart filled with 
the love of God — her eye beaming Avitli the ineffable delight 
of conscious freedom from the bondage of corruption, of as- 
sured victory over the world, of habitual communion wdth 
her God and Saviour. They have returned to their native 
comitry, where they have delightfully exemplified the relig- 
ion of Christ in a life of active piety and consecration to 
him. 

The writer could recount many such illustrations of the 
peace-giving, joy-inspiring influence of true religion. He 
has traversed seas and continents, mingled with the inhabit- 
ants of many a clime, held communion with the honorable 
and the abject, the savage and the sage ; and this is the 
sum of all his experience — that lie alone is truly happy, who 
mourns for sin, relies on the grace and power of Christ, and 
in the full light of inspired truth, can " read his title clear 
to mansions in the skies." 

Reader, the retrospections of a death-bed, of a judgment- 
day, will confirm this conclusion. Anticipate that confirma- 
tion, and BE WISE, that you may be happy. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I 



I¥o. 450. 

THE 



HEART OPEIED. 



Have you ever observed that beautiful but tender flower, 
which, as if instinct with Hfe, closes its delicate leaves and 
droops its head at sundown — but at sunrise, when it feels the 
first warm rays of the heavenly luminary, gently unfolds its 
beauties, and sends forth its sweet perfume ? In the ex- 
quisite raiechanism of that flower, and the manner of its 
operation, how wondrous the combination of gentleness and 
power. Omnipotence alone, guided by infinite wisdom, 
could create and adjust its various parts ; but how silently 
does the all-powerful God move them at his will, opening, 
on each returning morning, the beauteous valves, and 
spreading the beauties they enclose to the genial influence 
of the rising sun. 

Just so was the heart of Lydia opened. She was a 
native of Thyatira, famed for its production of the royal 
purple, and had repaired to Philippi to dispose of that 
article in traffic to the luxurious inhabitants of that Roman 
colony. She had renounced the service of idols, and was a 
professed worshipper of the true God. Finding a fcAV fe- 
males, like herself, disposed to the exercises of devotion, she 
accompanied them, on the morning of a Jewish Sabbath, to 
the banks of a neighboring stream, where they might, with- 
out observation, blend their supplications to the God of 
Abraham. Thither the Spirit and providence of the Most 
High conducted the footsteps of the great apostle of the 
Gentiles. He embraced the favorable opportunity of 
" preaching Jesus ;" and " God gave testimony to the word 
of his grace," and " opened the heart of Lydia, that she 
attended to the things that were spoken by Paul." Here 
was gentleness and power ; the energy of omnipotence act- 
ing under the influence of love. 

There have been many Lydias in the church of God, 

V(JL. XI. ;}U 



2 THE HEART OPENED. 

and as many illustrations of this wondrous union of tender 
ness and energy. One instance the WTiter can never forget. 
A young female, noted for her volatility, and strongly preju- 
diced against the preaching which yet, as a junior member 
of her family, she was compelled to attend, arose on the 
morning of an ever-memorable Sabbath, and anticipatmg 
the irksome engagements of the day, was doing what she 
could to "kill the time," the sacredness and value of which 
she had yet to learn. 

But the lesson Avas soon to be acquired. She was far, 
very far from being satisfied with her condition. That 
morning her mind was unaccountably diverted from its 
usual course of frivolous and trifling thought, and, as she 
afterwards confessed, she strove, but in vain, to put away 
from her the striking example of youthful decision furnished 
in the case of Ruth. What was her surprise when the 
minister read as his text the noble resolution of that noble 
heroine : " Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from 
following after thee ; for whither thou goest I will go, and 
where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy people shall be my 
people, and thy God my God." She wondered at the strange 
coincidence ; she listened as to a message sent directly to 
herself — her heart ivas opened — and the resolution of the 
Hebrew widow was adopted as her own, in so far as it in- 
volved the spirit of voluntary separation from the world, and 
self-consecration to the service of Jehovah. 

From that day she became a humble, meek, and zealous 
follower of Christ. She soon gathered around her a class 
of young immortals in the Sabbath-school, to whom it was 
her delight to speak of Him, " whom, having not seen, she 
loved, and in whom, though now she saw him not, yet be- 
lieving, she rejoiced witli joy unspeakable and full of glory." 
More than twelve years have elapsed since she " passed 
from death unto life," and she has continued to " adorn the 
doctrine of God her Saviour," and to exemplify the peace- 
ful, purifying influence of the pri\aleges she enjoys, and the 
prospects she entertains. 

On another occasion, the preacher liaviiig told his audi- 



THE HEART OPENED. 3 

ence that they were sinners — guilty — polluted — condemned ; 
unable to atone for their sins — to purify themselves from 
moral uncleanness — to avert the condemnation impending 
over them ; and having told them of the love of Christ, his 
meritorious righteousness, his atoning sacrifice, his ability 
and willingness to save, uttered in the earnestness of his 
heart such words as these : " Suffer me to take you by the 
hand, and lead you to the Saviour. He waiteth to be gra- 
cious — he will not cast you out — he invites, urges, entreats, 
implores you to ' come to him, that you may have life.' 
Come, then, without hesitancy — without procrastination, 
comer Under these words, divine power, guided by divme 
love, opened the heart of E , and gently threw its in- 
most recesses open to the light and warmth of the Sun of 
righteousness. She was poor in circumstances, but soon 
became distinguished in the little circle she so much adorned, 
by her love, fidelity, and zeal. 

She subsequently gave her hand to a pious youth, on 
condition that she should still attend at the " birthplace of 
her soul." Here, in answer to her fervent prayers, and by 
the blessing of God on the simple exhibition of the truth, 
her father, and then her mother were awakened, convinced, 
and saved. There, month after month, they have since 
united in showing forth the dying love of their Redeemer. 
They still inhabit the deepest vale of poverty — but theirs 
are the fruits of the Spirit, and the moral atmosphere 
around them is fragrant with the sweet perfume of piety. 

There is much that is intensely interesting in the early 
opening of the heart. If, under any circumstances, the con- 
version of a simier from the error of his way gives joy to 
the ministering spirits of heaven, how must that joy be en- 
hanced by the circumstances of an early consecration of the 
soul to God. How much evil is thus prevented — how much 
good secured. The youthful disciple becomes, if spared, 
through the whole of after-life, the source of a holy, health- 
ful moral influence. The atmosphere of domestic and social 
life becomes thus impregnated with the savor of godliness, and 
each member of the friendly circle has constantly exhibited 



4 THE HEART OPENED. 

before him or her, a " living epistle of Christ " — an embodied 
manifestation of the purity and power of true relio-ion. 

It is not 0)1 i/our oiv7i account only, my youthful reader, 
that we wish to sec your heart opened to receive the truth, 
to imbibe the spirit of holiness, to become the seat of pure 
desires and heavenly affections. You are connected with 
others — with some of them by ties which death only can 
dissolve. Every returning day, every waking hour brings 
you into contact with some of your fellow-creatures ; and 
from you there is going forth to them an influence for evil 
or for good, the consequences of which may be eternal. 

Now, we wish this influence to be entirely good, per- 
'inanently heneficial. We desire that you may serve God 
from your youth, and be preserved from those heart-corroding 
reflections which, in cases of late conversion, turn upon the 
dreadful past — upon time misspent, talents prostituted, and 
moral, spiritual, perhaps eternal injury inflicted uj)on others. 
"We wish you to live in the memory of others when you die, 
to have your noblest eulogivmri in the grateful remembrance 
of surviving disciples of the Saviour, whom you shall in- 
strumental ly have brought to his cross and to his throne. 
We desire for you a record on high — a memorial that shall 
survive the lapse of ages, the close of time, the consum- 
mation of all things. 

How momentous, my beloved reader, the issue of this 
appeal. What lasting results are suspended on the present 
moment. how do good and evil spirits, so deeply inter- 
ested in your salvation or perdition, crowd around you at a 
moment like the present, and tremulously wish, and watch 
the process of thought and of emotion. Spirit of grace and 
truth, put forth thy energy ; remove from the mind of the 
reader whatever excludes and intercepts the beams of heav- 
enly light and love ; let those beams fall powerfully, yet 
gently, on the heart, and let the heart own the heavenly 
influence, and open, and expand, and send forth the sweet 
savor of early piety. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



nro. 431. 

"YE SHALL NOT SURELY DIE." 

A SHORT SERMON, BY REV. LEMUEL HAYNES. 



The holy Scriptures are a peculiar fund of instruction. They 
inform us of the origin of creation ; of the primitive state of 
man; of his fall, or apostasy from God. It appears that lie was 
placed in the garden of Eden, with full liberty to regale him- 
self with all the delicious fruits that were to be found except 
what grew on one tree : if lie ate of that he should surely die, 
was the declaration of the Almighty. 

Happy were the human pair amid this delightful paradise, 
until a certain Preacher, in liis journey, came that way, and 
disturbed their peace and tranquillity by endeavoring to reverse 
the prohibition of the Almighty, as in our text : " Ye shall not 
surely die." 

" She pluck'd, she ate: 
Earth felt the wound ; and nature from her seat, 
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe 
That all was lost." Milton. 

We may attend to the clmrader of the preacher — to the doc- 
trine inculcated — to the hearer addressed — to the medium or 
instrume7it of the preaching. 

I. As to the PREACHER, I would observe, he has many names 
given him in the sacred writings : the most common is the Devil. 
That it was he that disturbed the happiness of our first parents is 
evident from 2 Cor. 11 : 13, and many otlicr passages of Scripture. 
He was once an angel of light, and knew better than to preach 
such doctrine ; he did violence to his own reason. 

But, to be a little more particular, let it be observed, 

1. He is an old preacher. He lived about one thousand seven 
hundred years before Abraiiam — above two tliousand four hun- 
dred and thirty years before Moses — four thousand and four years 
before Christ. It is now five thousand eight hundred and nine 
years since he commenced preaching-. By this time he must 
have acquired great skill in the art. 

2. He is a very ciuuiing, artful preacher. When Ely mas the 
sorcerer came to turn away people from the faitii, he is said to 
be full of all suhlldy, and a child of tlie devil — not only because 
he was an enemy of all righteousness, but on account of his carnal 
cunning and craftiness. 

VOL. .\i. 'Si)* 



2 "YE SHALL NOT SURELY DIE." 

3. He is a very laborious, unwearied preacher. He has been 
in the ministry almost six thousand years, and yet his zeal is not 
in the least abated. The apostle Peter compares him to a roaring- 
lion, imlking about seeking whom he may devour. When God 
inquired of this persevering preacher, Job 2:2, " From whence 
comest thou ?" he " answered the Lord, and said, From going to 
and fro in the earth, and from loalking up and down in i7." He 
is far from being circumscribed within the narrow limits of parish, 
state, or continental lines ; but his haunt and travel are very large 
and extensive. 

4. He is a hderogeneous preacher, if I may so express myself. 
He makes use of a Bible when he holds forth, as in his sermon 
to our Saviour, Matt. 4:6. He mixes truth with error, in order 
to make it go well, or to carry his point. 

5. He is a very presumptuous preacher. Notwithstanding 
God had declared in the most plain and positive terms, " Thou 
shalt surely die " — or, " In dying thou shalt die " — yet this auda- 
cious wretch had the impudence to confront Omnipotence, and 
say, " Ye shall not surely die !" 

6. He is a very success/id preacher. He draws a great num- 
ber after him. No preacher can command hearers like him. 
He was successful with our first parents — with the old world. 
Noah once preached to those spirits that are now in the prison of 
hell, and told them from God tliat tliey should surely die ; but 
this preacher came along and declared the contrary — " Ye shall 
not surely die." The greater part, it seems, believed him, and 
went to destruction. So it was witli Sodom and Gomorrah. Lot 
preached to them ; the substance of which was, '• Up, get ye out 
of this place ; for the Lord will destroy this city." Gen. 19 : 14. 
But this old declaimer told them. No danger, no danger ; " Ye 
shall not surely die." To which they generally gave heed ; and 
Lot seemed to them as one who mocked : they believed the Uni- 
versal preacher and were consumed — agreeably to the declaration 
of the apostle Jude, " Sodom and Gomorrah, and the cities about 
them, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire." 

II. Let us attend to the doctrine inculcated by this preacher. 
"Ye shall not surely die." Bold assertion, without a single 
argument to support it. The death contained in the tlireatening 
was doubtless eternal death: els nothing but this would express 
God's feelings towards sin, or render an infinite atonement neces- 
sary. If it were temporal death, and this was the curse of the 
law, then believers are not delivered from it, as Paul asserts that 
they are. Galatians 3 : 13. What Satan meant to preach was, 
that there is no hell ; and that the wages of sin is not death, but 
eternal life. 

III. We shall now take notice of the hearer addressed by 
this preacher. This we have in the context : " And the serpent 
said unto the woman. Ye shall not surely die." That Eve had 



•' YE SHALL NOT SURELY DIE." 3 

not so much experience as Adam is evident ; and so she was not 
equally able to Avithstand temptation. This doubtless was a rea- 
son why the tempter chose her, with whom he might hope to be 
successful. Probably he took a time when she was separated 
from her husband. 

That this preacher has had the greatest success in the dark 
and ignorant parts of the earth, is evident ; his kingdom is a 
kingdom of darkness. He is a great enemy to light. St. Paul 
gives us some account of him in his day, 2 Tim. 3:6: " For of 
this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly 
women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts." The 
same apostle observes, Rom. 16:17, 18, "Now I beseech you, 
brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offences, contrary 
to the doctrine which ye have learned, and avoid them. For they 
that are such serve not our Lord Jesus Christ, but their own 
belly ; and by good words and fair speeches deceive the hearts 
of the simple^ 

IV. The instrument or medium made use of by the preacher 
will now be considered. This we have in the context: "And 
the SERPENT said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die." But 
how came the devil to preach through the serpent ? 

1. To save his own character, and the better to cany his 
point. Had the devil come to our first parents personally and 
unmasked, they would have more easily seen the deception. The 
reality of a future punishment is at times so clearly impressed 
on the human mind, that even Satan is constrained to own that 
there is a hell, although at other times he denies it. He does 
not wish to have it known that he is a liar ; therefore he conceals 
himself, that he may the better accomplish his designs and save 
his own character. 

2. The devil is an enemy to all good, to all happiness and 
excellence. He is opposed to the happiness of the brutes. He 
took delight in tormenting the swine. The serpent, before he 
set up preaching universal salvation, was a wise, beautiful, and 
happy creature ; but now his glory is departed. " And the Lord 
said unto the serpent. Because thou hast done this, thou art cursed 
above all cattle, and above every beast of the field ; upon thy 
belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy 
life." There is therefore a kind of duplicate cunning in the 
matter — Satan gets the preacher and hearers also. 

" And is not this triumphant treachery. 
And more than simple conquest in the foe I" Y'ocng. 

3. Another reason why Satan employs instruments in his 
service is, because his empire is large, and he cannot be every- 
where himself. 

4. He has a large number at his command that love and 



4 "YE SHALL NOT SURELY DIE." 

approve of his work, delight in building up his kingdom, and 
stand ready to go at his call. 

INFERENCES. 

1. The devil is not dead, but still lives, and is able to preach 
as well as ever, " Ye shall not surely die." 

2. Universal Salvation is no new-fangled scheme, but can 
boast of great antiquity. 

3. See a reason why it ought to be rejected, because it is an 
ancient devilish doctrine. 

4. See one reason why it is tliat Satan is such a mortal enemy 
to the Bible, and to all who preach the Gospel, because of that 
injunction, Mark 16 : 15, 16 : " And he said unto them. 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 be- 
lieveth not, shall be damned,^'' 

5. See whence it was that Satan exerted himself so much to 
convince our first parents that there was no hell, because the 
denunciation of the Almighty was true, and he was afraid that 
Adam and Eve would continue in the belief of it. Was there 
no proof of future punishment, or was it only a temporary evil, 
Satan would not be so busy in trying to convince men that there 
is none. It is his nature and element to lie. " When he speak- 
eth a lie, he speaketh of his own ; for he is a liar, and the father 
of it." John 8: 44. 

6. We infer that ministers should not be proud of their 
preaching. If they preach the true Gospel, they only in sub- 
stance repeat Christ's sermons. If they preach, " Ye shall not 
surely die," they only make use of the devil's old notes, that he 
delivered almost six thousand years ago. 

7. It is probable that the doctrine of Universal Salvation will 
still prevail, since this preacher is yet alive, and not in the least 
superannuated ; and every effort against him only enrages him 
more and more, and excites him to new inventions and exertions 
to build up his cause. 

To close the subject. As the author of the foregoing dis- 
course has confined himself wholly to the character of Satan, he 
trusts no one will feel himself personally injured by tliis short 
sermon. But should any imbibe a degree of friendship for this 
aged deceiver, and think that I have not treated this Universal 
preacher with that respect and veneration that he justly deserves, 
let them be so kind as to point it out, and I will most cheerfully 
retract ; for it has ever been a maxim with me, " Render unto all 
their dues." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 452. 

THE 



SINNER AND THE SAVIOUR. 



In a short time, and perhaps very unexpectedly, you will 
be in eternity. Your opportunities and privileges fly with 
your moments, your account is fast filling up for the day of 
judgment, and soon your everlasting destiny will be decided. 

You are conscious that you are a sinner against God. 
You have been icngratcful, in rendering no proper return 
for his unceasing mercies ; selfish, in disregarding his glory, 
and seeking your own interests ; self-ivilled and obstinate, in 
casting off his restraints, and persisting in your ovn\ way ; 
'proud, in overvaluing your supposed good qualities ; vain, 
in seeking the approbation of men rather than God ; rebel- 
lious, in resisting his rightful authority, and disobeying his 
most reasonable commands ; unbelieving, in neglecting his 
most gracious promises and solemn warnings ; and tvicked, 
in stifling the admonitions of conscience, and deferring known 
and acknowledged duty. You have sinned against God the 
Father, by withholding your heart from him, and by con- 
temning his wisdom and mercy, which devised the Gospel as 
the only method of restoring you to liis favor ; you have 
sinned against God the Son, by denying your sinful and lost 
condition, and neglecting the pardon purchased with his 
blood ; you have smned against God the Holy Spirit, in re- 
sisting him when he has brought reclaiming influences to 
bear on your soul. Acts 7 : 51. Had you never committed 
a sm against your fellow-men, your everlasting condemna- 
tion would be just ; but the guilt of a self-murderer is also 
upon you, you have destroyed your own soul, Hos. 13:9; 
and you have encouraged others in sin, which may finally 
insure their ruin. 

It can be no excuse of your course to say you have been 
sincere : sincerity is not the test of rectitude ; " There is a 
way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are 
the ways of death." Prov. 14 : 12. You cannot plead that 
conscience has not condemned you ; for by constant sinning 



2 THE SINNER AND THE SAVIOUR. 

you may have perverted and hardened it. You cannot hope 
that God will be indifferent to your sin: he is "jealous" 
for his lavi^, and by his word and providence has declared 
his opposition in teims that should make every transgressor 
tremble. If you rely on a vague expectation of the general 
mercy of God, your hope must perish : he has no mercy in- 
dependent of that wliich he exercises, through Jesus Christ, 
to those who repent and believe the Gospel. If you turn to 
the promise of future repentance, it must prove delusive ; 
for if now, under clear conviction and the mo.st pressing mo- 
tives, while the heart is susceptible, you are unwilling to 
repent, much more will you be when, by practice in sin, 
convictions are stifled, motives impaired, and the heart has 
grown hard. If you trust to your morality, its outward and 
partial duties cannot answer the demands of a law which is 
" exceeding broad " and spiritual ; nor can present obedience, 
even if it were perfect, atone for sins that are past. If you 
expect that at death some change will be produced in your 
moral character, by which you may be saved, you are fear- 
fully deceived : He that is then unjust, shall be unjust still; 
and he that is filthy, shall be filthy still. Rev. 22 : 11. 

You are then condemned, nor can you derive from your- 
self or your fellow-men the least hope of deliverance. If 
you are ever saved, it must be by the unmerited mercy of 
God, so exercised that his justice, holiness, and truth, shall 
remain unimpeached, the authority of his law be maintained, 
and a thorough and radical change produced in your moral 
character. 

Such a plan of salvation the wisdom of God has devised. 
And from the cross of Jesus Christ the invitation is directed 
to you : "Look unto me, and be saved." 

He is a Saviour in every respect suited to your case. 
He has removed all legal obstacles to your pardon, and yet 
upheld and magnified the law. He has glorified the attri- 
butes of God, and yet can ofier mercy most freely to all who 
^vill receive it. He has every qualification to invite your 
confidence and enlist your affection. " It pleased the Father 
that in him should all fulness dtaell.'" 

He is full of merit to justify. However numerous and 
aggravated your sins, on the ground of his " everlasting 
righteousness" you may be pardoned and restored. 

He is full of grace to sanctify. "The blood of Jesus 



THE SINNER AND THE SAVIOUR. 3 

Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin." 1 John, 1:7. 
His Spirit and his word can make you clean. 1 Pet. 1 : 22. 
Wait not to make yourself better, and then come to Christ 
with your imperfect goodness as the price of acceptance ; 
come as you are ; he will make you better, and render you 
acceptable in your Father's sight. 

He is full of compassio7i. He came to save sinners, and 
says, " Him that cometh to me, I v^ill in no wise cast out." 
John 6 : 37. 

He is full of syinpathij. He knows experimentally the 
wants, woes, trials, and temptations of men ; and his call is, 
" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest." Matt. 11 : 28. 

''All power in heaven and in earth" is given him, to 
protect and uphold his people. Matt. 28 : 18. If you are 
fearful that you cannot hold out, he can keep you. John 
10 : 27-29. "He is able to save them to the uttermost, 
who come unto God by him." Heb. 7 : 25. 

He is full of tcisdom. The past, the present, the future 
are open to his eye. He will keep you from the paths of the 
destroyer, and guide your doubting footsteps into the ways 
of safety and peace. 

He is full of glory to crown. He will recognize you as 
his own in this Avorld, will guard you from the snares of 
prosperity, will irradiate the dark hours of adversity wdth 
his presence, will convert your last conflict into a scene of 
victory, and raise you to his Father's house, to reign as king 
and priest with him for ever. Rev. 1:6. 

He will be made wisdom for your ignorance, righteous- 
ness for your guilt, sanctification for your pollution, and re- 
demption for your ruin. Will you accept him as your Sav- 
iour? Then make and seal, with your heart and hand, 
such an engagement as the following : 

" In view of my sins, most unreasonable and wicked, as 
committed against God the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Spirit, I profess my sincere sorrow, and my firm determina- 
tion to forsake them heartily and for ever. I now receive 
the Lord Jesus Christ as my Saviour. Disclaiming all reli- 
ance on my good deeds, I trust alone to his atonement for 
pardon. Conscious of my ignorance, I receive him as my 
instructor, and bind myself to follow him ; and acknowledg- 
ing and renouncing my past rebellion, I receive him as my 



4 THE SINNER AND THE SAVIOUR. 

Master and Lord, submitting my will cheerfully to his, and 
consecrating myself and all to his service for ever." 

Make such a consecration as this from the heart, and 
you shall live. The Redeemer will accept of no service 
short of this. Why will you die ? Ever will you wander 
in darkness till you turn your steps to Christ. Many have 
resorted to him and been saved. Hear the experience of 
one. Cowper, the celebrated Christian poet, at one period 
of his history, was driven by a consciousness of guilt to the 
verge of despair ; at length he opened the Bible and read, 
Rom. 3 : 25, " Christ Jesus God hath set forth to be a pro- 
pitiation for sin, through faith in his blood, to declare his 
righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through 
the forbearance of God." " Immediately," he says, " I re- 
ceived strength to believe, and the full beams of the Sun of 
righteousness shone upon me. I saw the sufficiency of the 
atonement he had made for my pardon and complete justifi- 
cation. Unless the Almighty arm had been under me, I 
think I should have been overwhelmed with gratitude and 
joy. My eyes filled with tears, and my voice choked with 
transport ; I could only look up to heaven in silent fear, 
over\'\'helmed with love and wonder. I lost no opportunity 
of repairing to the throne of grace, but flew to it with an 
earnestness irresistible and never to be satisfied. Could I 
help it ? The Lord had enlarged my heart, and I could 
now cheerfully run in the ways of his commandments." It 
was in such a state of mind that he composed this sweet 
hymn ; and may God give you grace to adopt it as the lan- 
guage of your own heart. 

There is a fonntain filled with blood, Till all the ransomed church of God 

Drawn from Immaiiuel's veins ; Be saved, to sin no more. 

And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 

Lose all their guilty stains. E'er since by faith I saw the stream 

Thy flowing wounds supply, 
The dying thief rejoiced to see Redeeming love has been my theme, 

Tha"t fountain in his day ; And shall be till I die. 

And there may I, though vile as he, 

Wash all my guilt away. Then in a nobler, sweeter song, 

I'll sing thy power to save, 
Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood When this poor lisping, stam'ring tongue, 

Shall never lose its power, Ijies silent in the grave. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 453. 

THE 



SINNER BELIEVING. 



Towards the close of a summer Sabbath, my younger 
brother came into my room, and with every expression of 
confidence and love, the tear trembling in his eye, said, " I 
want you to pray for me." It was a moment of surpassing 
interest, and emotions never to be expressed or forgotten 
were awakened during the scene that folloAved. 

The youth now begging an interest in my prayers had 
never been distinguished for his wickedness ; on the contrary, 
his past life had been marked by strict morality, and the 
observance of many external duties of religion had adorned 
his character. His countenance, his tears, his words discov- 
ered that he was in deep distress, and I desired him to sit 
doMQi for a moment, and tell me the nature of his anxiety, 
to open his heart freely, and I would then comply with his 
request. 

" Last evening," said he, "I was in the prayer-meeting, 
and when you closed your remarks with these words, ' Choose 
ye this day whom you will serve,' I resolved to seek the 
Saviour 7ioiv, and never give it up till I found him. When 
I arose this morning, I was not conscious of any unusual 
anxiety ; but through the day 1 have been more and more 
troubled ; the preaching seemed to reach my case ; and since 
I have been at home this afternoon, I have been more deeply 
distressed, and now I feel that I am a sinner, a very great 
sinner, sinking into hell, and I want you to pray for me." 

We kneeled, and I prayed for him while he wept in bit- 
terness by my side. I then said to him, " What is the im- 
mediate cause of your present distress ? Have you a dread of 
God's wrath, which you so richly deserve on account of your 
past neglect of him, and the present enmity of your heart to 
all that is holy ?" 

He replied, " I have been, during the day, particularly 
anxious lest I should sink into hell. It seemed to be opened 
before me, and every step I took was bringing me nearer to 
its brink. But that idea does not now distress me so much 

vol.. XI. 31 



2 THE SINNER BEIJEVING. 

as a sense of my sins ; they are so many and so great, that I 
know not what to do or where to look. What shall I do to 
be saved from my sins ?" 

"There are reasons," I said, " why you ought to feel 
deeply the greatness of your guilt. You have lived in the 
midst of gospel privileges ; you have had religious instruc- 
tion from your childhood upward ; you have heard the ofiers 
of salvation a thousand times ; and have slighted these priv- 
ileges, forgotten these instructions, rejected these ofiers of 
life, and you do well to weep when these sins are set in 
order before you." 

" I know it, I know it," said he ; "I deserve to be made 
miserable, I have been such a sinner against God." 

" But do you feel that you deserve to be eternally miser- 
able ; that God would be just in shutting you out of heaven, 
and shutting you up in hell ?" 

" Oh yes, I cannot suffer more than I deserve to suffer, 
if I sink under the everlasting wrath of God. And yet it is 
not hell, so much as sin, that now fills me with distress. I 
would suffer any thing, every thing, to be delivered from this 
dreadful load of sin." 

I then spoke to him of the divine character, and told him 
that he might contemplate the contrast between the holiness 
of" God and the pollution of the sinner's heart. " Think of 
that infinite purity that camiot look upon sin ; of that justice 
that has sworn to punish it ; that spared not the rebel an- 
gels, and that will not spare you ; think of the integrity of 
God, that can make no compromise with sm, nor relax a 
particle from the severity with which he must punish the 
finally impenitent." 

To all this and more that I urged, he answered, " I feel 
all that ; I see that all the attributes of God are against me, 
conspiring to punish me ; it is all right ; I deserve it ; I 
must perish ; oh, is there no way to escape ?" 

" God is just, but God is merciful too. He has prolonged 
your life, given you space to repent, and is now ready to 
deliver you from hell and fit you for heaven." 

" No, no," said he, " 1 have sinned too much. I must 
perish in my sins." And sinking under this despairing 
thought, he gave utterance to his grief in sobs and tears. 

It was an awful moment. He seemed ready to perish. 
I feared he would perish. Again and again I prayed, that 



THE SINNER BELIEVING. 3 

ill the hour of his extremity he might find mercy. He tried 
to pray — and, out of the depths of his distress, cried unto 
God. But his cry seemed to be miheard. He did not be- 
lieve. I then said to him, 

" My dear brother, I have been striving to set before you 
those sins which now fill your soul with so much distress, 
and I doubt not that the Holy Spirit has opened your eyes 
to see your guilt and just desert of punishment. But you 
must not despair. Have you forgotten that the blessed Sav- 
iour, who came into the world and died for the chief of sin- 
ners, now waits to be gracious even to you ? If you still 
doubt the willingness of God to have mercy on sinners, come 
with me to the cross on Calvary. Why does the Son of God 
there hang, and bleed, and die ? If he died to save the sin- 
ner, is he not willing to do that for which he died ? Here 
is the crowning evidence that God can save and longs to 
save those who deserve to perish. And then listen to the 
invitations and promises of the Gospel ; how many, how 
precious, how strong. They breathe the sweetness of dying 
love. They come from the heart that bled on the cross ; 
and how can you refuse to believe ? ' Come unto me, all ye 
that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' 
' If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.' ' Whoso 
Cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' The Gospel is 
full of such promises ; they are made to sinners ; they are 
made to you. Were you the only sinner on earth, the prom- 
ises of Christ could not be more clearly addressed to you than 
they now are. And can you doubt ; will you despair ? You 
see the plan of salvation revealed for just such siimers as you 
are ; and now will you not, under the power of the Holy 
Spirit, that has awakened you to a sense of your condition, 
commit your immortal interests to Him who gave himself 
for you?" The solemnity of etermty seemed to rest on his 
soul, as he poured out his heart in prayer and yielded him- 
self into the hands of Him Avho is mighty to save. From 
that blessed hour my brother has found the Saviour precious 
to his soul. 

In this record there are a few points on which I would 
fasten the reader's attention. 

There was d, determination to seek the Lord Jesus Christ. 
He came to this determination calmly, deliberately, and with 
fixedness of purpose. This is the first step in the. path that 



4 THE SINNER BELIEVING. 

leads the sinner back to God. Will you 7iow, relying on the 
grace of God, without which your resolution will be vain, 
resolve to make the salvation of your soul the first great 
object of pursuit, and with singleness of purpose seek the 
Lord ? 

He ?,aw his danger. He hung by the thread of life over 
the burning lake, and liable every moment to fall into the 
bottomless gulf There you are suspended, impenitent 
reader. An instant hence the brittle thread may break, and 
then where are you ? 

He felt Ids guilt. And the more clearly he saw how 
long his heart had been at enmity with God, the deeper be- 
came the sense of his just desert of punishment. He knew 
that it would be right for God to cut him ofi^ in his sins, and 
cast him for ever from his presence. 

He believed on the Lord Jesus Christ as just the Saviour 
lie needed. With a heart broken for sin, he found that, 
trusting implicitly in the promises of Christ, there was peace 
for his soul. Here all his anguish was allayed ; joy broke in 
upon his despairing mind, and the sweet assurance came that 
his sins were forgiven. 

These are simple steps, but they lead to heaven. " Re- 
pent, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt bo 
saved." You maybe a desperate, abandoned profligate ; an 
outcast, forsaken and forgotten of men ; a child of infamy 
and crime, lost to yourself and friends, and lost to Iwpe ; but 
" it is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners" — the chief 
of sinners — to save you. 

Like him whose story is here told, you may not have 
stained your character by crime, or wandered far into the 
paths of the wicked ; still, you have an evil heart of unbe- 
lief to depart from the living God ; you never loved the Lord 
with all your soul ; nay, you have hardened your heart against 
him, and refused to yield yourself into his hands. But the 
Saviour waits to be gracious. He died for you ; will you 
not live for him ? He calls you by his word, and by his 
Spirit ; he pleads with you by his dying love, to repent, be- 
lieve, and LIVE. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 434, 



CONVENIENT SEASON 



" Go THY WAY FOR THIS TIME ; WHEN I HAVE A CONVEN- 
IENT SEASON, I WILL CALL FOR THEE." So spake Felix to 
the apostle Paul, " as he reasoned of righteousness, temper- 
ance, and judgment to come." The haughty Roman gov- 
ernor, conscience-smitten, trembled before his prisoner, yet 
bade him depart till he could find a better time to attend to 
his message. That season never came. Though Felix sent 
often for the apostle and communed with him, he never so 
called for him as to receive and obey his message, but died 
a rebel against God. 

Many still adopt in heart and practice the language of 
Felix ; many still look forward to their convenient season. 
Few have any clear idea of what they mean, further than 
that it is not the present time ; they are always intending 
to repent, and never are ready. Thus they live and die with 
the work not done, and the soul is lost. 

Dear reader, now unprepared, what do yoti intend by a 
convenient season ? The present time, it seems, is not such 
for you. There must then be something in the future to 
which you look that does not belong to the present. What 
is it ? God's convenient season is now. " Noiv" he says, 
" is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation." 
The grand inquiry is. Will you liave a more convenient sea- 
son ? 

You think, perhaps, that you are now too full of cares ; 
you have too much business to occupy you ; you need more 
leisure. But what business is so important as that of the 
soul ? What is in such danger of being neglected ? And 
will the future be more free from cares ? Do you certainly 
know this ? Can you tell how the world will go with you ; 
how far your business will prosper ; what new events will 
take place afiecting your interests ? If now you are too 
busy, will you be less busy hereafter ? Is the probability so 
strong, that it is well to risk on it the soul's eternal welfare ? 

But some particular plan or enterprise engrosses your 

VOL. XI. 31* . 



2 A CONVENIENT SEASON. 

time ; you only wait till this be over, and then you will be 
ready — nothing-shall prevent you. Death may prevent you. 
The loss of reason may prevent you. Your very business, 
too, may bring results in its train which you cannot foresee. 
The resolution of to-day will soon be forgotten, as many 
others have been. You liave put off the period longer and 
longer still, and as yet have done nothing to make your, 
peace with God. Think, will it not be so again ? 

But you wait till more iiowcrfid means are used with 
you. What means have not been used Mdth you ? Have 
you not had the Bible to tell you that you are a sinner against 
God ; that you must be born again ? Have you not heard 
of a Saviour, and rejected him ? Have you not been prayed 
for, and warned, and entreated ? Has not the Holy Spirit 
of God sought you and strove with your heart ? Has not 
conscience urged on you your danger ? Have not the provi- 
dences of God spoken to you ? Have not friends died, per- 
haps with warnings to you on their last breath ? You too, 
perhaps, have yourself been nigh to death, and in agony of 
soul promised to live to God ; but you have broken that 
promise, and torn yourself away from his arms of everlasting 
love. How then can you look for more powerful means ? 

Do you wait till you feel the influences of God's Spirit on 
your heart ? Have they not been given you ? Even now 
they may be gently drawing and urging you. Yes, the still 
small voice of the Holy Spirit in loving entreaty whispers to 
you, " Come, for all things are now ready." Take care lest 
you once more grieve him away, as you have so often done. 
Lift up your heart to God to bless you, and implore the Spirit 
to be your comforter and guide. 

Besides, what can means effect while you remain 
tlioughtless, or undecided to comply ? They may arouse you 
as they have others, and you turn away and harden by them. 
From whom do you look to receive them ? Has God prom- 
ised them? Can you hope for them while you still abuse 
his grace ? "VYill the Holy Spirit be more likely to strive 
with you for being again rejected ? Will delay make it 
easier for you ? Will an ever-hardening heart gain you 
strength of purpose to serve God ? Why cannot you think 
of your danger, and cry to God for mercy ? Is not the dan- 
ger real ; the ruin impending awful ? AYhy not now resolve 
to be his ; to live to him henceforth, and lor ever ? Is not 



A CONVENIENT SEASON. 3 

his blessing worth striving to attain ? Is there any thing to 
hinder you in the doctrines of his word ? His word is truth ; 
it will never change. It will ever be the same in your fan- 
cied convenient season. Shall it hinder you now and for 
ever ? 

But again, you say that now your friends refuse to come 
to Christ, and you hope that by and by they will join you. 
But should they not, will you give up your convenient sea- 
son ? Or will you go to perdition because they too go ; lose 
your soul because they lose theirs ? Will it be a solace to 
you in eternal torment, that your father, mother, brother, 
sister, wife, husband, or other near and dear friend is with 
you there ? Will it make the misery of hell more tolerable ? 
Can you better endure with them the wrath of Almighty 
God ? Wliy should their penitence or impenitence decide 
you ? They cannot re]ient or believe for you ? You must 
yourself reipent, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. You 
must be born again, or be for ever lost. Why not now rather 
make your peace with God, and trust his grace to aid you to 
lead them also to eternal life ? 

But the present is atte??ded by a cross. Enjo^mients are 
to be given up that you now find it hard to relinquish, and 
you hope for a convenient season that will be attended by no 
such trials. Then I tell you, dear reader, it tcill never come. 
The way to heaven lies by the cross. It will always be the 
same strait and narrow way. You must follow in the foot- 
steps of Christ, deny yourself, and take up your cross, or you 
cannot be his disciple. The terms of salvation will never be 
altered. Love for your soul dictated them, and the same 
love and desire to save and make you eternally happy will 
keep them for ever what they are. Give up, then, all hope 
of salvation, or yield to them. 

But you plead again, that you do not feel enough — you 
must wait till you are better. If sincere in this plea, Satan 
is deluding you. It is not the degree, but the kind of feel- 
ing you have, that God regards in his call to you to repent. 
You know what repentance means, what faith means, and 
what it is to withhold your heart from God. He requires 
you to give your heart to him now. Will you wait till you 
are better ? But how ? In impenitence, with a heart unwill- 
ing to obey God ? And will this ever make you better, or 
render it more probable that you will be saved ? 



4 A CONVENIENT SEASON. 

But you have already put it off so long you cannot hope 
for mercy. Are you sincere in this plea ? What mean you 
by it ? iSay not so, for you do not really believe it : if you 
did, you would be unutterably wretched, and in hopeless 
despair. If there is no hope for you now, then no convenient 
season can ever be yours. 

AAliy, then, is not now the convenient season ? You have 
life and reason ; you are in health ; the word of God ad- 
dresses you ; Jesus the Saviour invites you ; the Spirit of God 
urges you ; your conscience tells you that it is your duty. 
You know not how soon life may close. You know not but 
God may take from you reason, withhold his gracious Spirit, 
and bid the messengers of mercy " let you alone." When, 
poor sinner, ichen will you be more ready ? Will you be so 
on the sick bed, on the death-bed, racked with pain, trem- 
bling, it may be, in despair, on the verge of the grave ? Are 
you young ? Will manhood with its cares, the M^orld cor- 
roding and hardening the heart, find you so ? Are you in 
middle life ? Will age with infirmity, and a long life wasted 
in rebellion against God ? Ask those who have lived on 
thus ; be warned by their example, and make sure of the 
present as your convenient, possibly your only season. Gain 
thus the longer time to prove your faith, and by sanctified 
trials and growth in grace, prepare to meet your Judge. 
AYould you spend your best days in pleasure, and give to him 
only the dregs of a life wasted in neglect and sin ? Will he 
be satisfied with this, and wait on you ? Dare you venture 
your soul on it ? Hear what God sa}s, dear fellow-sinner, 
and beware how you longer presume on his forbearance and 
mercy : " Because I have called, and ye refused ; I have 
stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; but ye have 
set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof ; 
I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your 
fear cometh." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETV. 



No. 4o5. 



THE 



(lEKMAN CEIPPLE 




In a miserable hovel near Rottenstein, in Germany, 
resided a poor cripple, who, from earliest infancy to his sixty- 
second year. Uved in such a state of bodily weakness, that 
he was constantly dependent on the humane attention of 
others. His whole body was contracted, his knees were 
drawn up near his chin, and he was consequently unable 
to walk : the utmost he could do was to crawl a few yards 
on the floor ; but even this became impracticable in the latter 
years of his life, his body having become very sore from con- 



2 THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 

stant lying in one position. His arms were nearly as much 
deformed as his lower limbs, though for many years he retained 
the free use of his hands, which he most industriously employed 
m gaining a livelihood ; but in his fifty-sixth year, a very 
severe winter deprived him entirely of this blessing, so that 
it became necessary to feed him like an infant. The cottage 
in which he lodged was a considerable distance from the 
village, at the edge of a forest, amidst some sandy rocks, and 
removed from the public road. Here he was kindly cared 
for by a poor shepherd's widow, whom the parish had placed 
in the same dwelling. 

When poor James, for this was his Christian name, lost 
the use of his hands, the pious widow had advanced to her 
eighty-second year. Four additional years James enjoyed 
the benefit of her maternal care, when it pleased God to 
remove her from this world of sin and sorrow, after a very 
short ilhiess. Like fruit fully matured by the heat of afflic- 
tion, she dropped off the tree ; and without tasting the bit- 
terness of death, gently fell asleep in Jesus. On the day 
which immediately preceded her dissolution, she had gone 
to the village, leaning on her staff, to pay a last visit to a 
pious farmer's widow, from whom she had received many a 
charitable gift. Affectionately thanking her benefactress for 
all her acts of kindness, she added an earnest request, that 
she would think of poor James, as she now felt that her con- 
tinuance on earth was likely to be very short. On the even- 
ing of the following day, the farmer's widow, impressed with 
the parting words of old " Lizzy," sent her maid to inquire 
at the cottage : she returned with the intelligence that the 
aged widow had died early in the morning. 

After Lizzy's burial, poor James was left the lonely ten- 
ant of the cottage, and must have perished in his forlorn state, 
had not the good providence of God raised up on his behalf 
some kindly disposed persons, M^ho, pitying his deplorable 
situation, made it their business to bestow their friendly 
attention upon him. The young clergyman of Rottenstein, 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 3 

when informed of his circumstances, began to visit this 
afflicted parishioner ; and though the poor man spoke but 
Httle, what he said was so appropriate, that every visit 
increased the pastor's esteem and aflection. 

During the wet weather, the rain penetrated the roof, 
and dripped upon the bed of the sufferer. One morning, 
some friendly visitors stepping in, found him in a fainting 
fit. Supposing him to be dead, they were just about to re- 
move him from his bed of straw, when he showed signs of 
life, though his state of exhaustion was such that he could 
not speak so as to be heard. A fire was then kindled, his 
bed was placed in a more sheltered position, a dry coverlid 
was procured, and a reviving cordial administered. Thus 
refreshed, James soon regained his cheerful looks, and on 
recovering his speech, expressed a wish that the clergyman 
might be sent for. Upon entermg the sick-room, he found 
a venerable old man sitting near the bedside of James, with 
a trembling hand and a tear glistening in his eye. All was 
clean and in order. Yet these outward apj)earances were 
not the chief attraction to the young pastor ; his eyes were 
fixed upon the patient, and the more attentively he viewed 
him, the more intense was the interest he felt. 

Finding the poor suflerer somewhat revived, he thus ad- 
dressed him : 

"My dear James, you appear to be fully aware of the 
danger which threatens your life, but for that you seem pre- 
pared." 

" I am equally ready for life or death," said he, with an 
air of inexpressible serenity ; " my life is in the Lord's hand ; 
he can graciously prolong it, or speedily take me to himself, 
as it shall please him." 

"But how is this," inquired the clergyman ; "do you 
not from your inmost soul long for the redemption of your 
body ? Can you really think, without uneasiness, of the 
prolongation of a life which to you must have been one con- 
tinued scene of pain and suffering ?" 



4 THE GERMAxV CRIPPLE. 

"It is true, for many years I have been longing for the 
day and hour in which the shattered tabernacle of this body 
of sin and death shall be taken down, and another more beau- 
tiful habitation be provided for my immortal spirit, by my 
blessed Lord and Master ; but I would declare, with sincere 
gratitude to him, that my life, amidst all its gloomy and 
distressing scenes, has yet proved a comfortable and happy 
one." 

"My poor friend," rejoined the minister, "it cheers me 
to find that so far from indulging in those sad complaints to 
which many invalids give vent, you rather dwell on the 
blessings bestowed upon you by the goodness of God. Per- 
haps, in your youthful days, you enjoyed more ease and com- 
fort, the very remembrance of which may prove grateful to 
your reflecting mind ; but as for your later years, you have 
had to endure a far heavier load of pain and suffering than 
has fallen to the lot of any one within the circle of my ac- 
quaintance." 

"With regard to my infancy and youth," repHed the 
cripple, " I certainly had my cheerful days and hours, but 
things often looked very dark. My father was a soldier ; I 
never saw him, for at the time of my birth he was with his 
regiment in a remote part of the country, and shortly after- 
wards he was drowned in the Rhine. My poor mother died 
soon after my birth : grief for the death of my father, and 
the sight of so miserable an infant, are said to have broken 
her heart. My old pious grandmother took compassion on 
me, and nursed me with the same tender affection as if I 
had been a fine, healthy child, though my deplorable state 
often drew tears from her eyes. She herself was but badly 
off", for she lived with a daughter-in-law, who did not treat 
her kindly ; her own son was dead, and his widow had 
taken another husband, who grudged the old woman her 
free lodging, and such little comforts as might be allotted 
her. Often, when he saw my aged grandmother carry me 
about before the cottage, indulging me with a little fresh 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 5 

air and warm sunshine, he would pour forth a volley of 
angry words, and even curses upon me, so that I quite trem- 
bled. My grandmother bore all in silent, meek submission, 
only saying, when we were alone, ' James, you must pray 
for angry Michael, that God may bless him and his house ; 
then every one of his curses will be turned into a tenfold 
blessing.' My grandmother knew how to combine industry 
with piety ; busy as she was with her spinning-wheel, and 
occupied with her daily work, she delighted in prayer, speak- 
ing to herself ' in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs, 
making melody in her heart to the Lord.' She also taught 
me to read, which proved a most welcome recreation. I 
made rapid progress ; and when she employed me in reading 
the Bible, I felt such delight in it, that it became my favor- 
ite pursuit. At the same time, she habituated me to such 
work as my feeble hands would allow me to perform. Thus 
I grew up, nourished in body and soul, when it pleased God, 
in my twelfth year, to deprive me of this most kind and in- 
defatigable nursuig-mother. When she felt her end approach, 
she prayed with a holy importunity, that God himself would 
take me into his especial care and guardianship ; and should 
it please him to allot me but a scanty portion of earthly 
comforts, that he would enrich me with an ampler supply 
of spiritual blessings. This prayer was remarkably heard 
and answered. For though, when I saw the corpse of my 
venerable grandmother carried to the grave, I shed a flood 
of tears, I yet enjoyed an inward peace and consolation, such 
as I had before never experienced. I felt as if the Lord 
Jesus, to whose mercy my dying grandmother had so fre- 
quently commended me, had been present with me, and had 
said, ' I have made, and I will bear ; even I will carry, and 
will deliver you.' This precious promise wonderfully sup- 
ported me, under all the unkind treatment which imbittered 
my life while still living in the house of my relatives. None 
of its inmates cared for me ; but the little son of a neigh- 
bor, whom I had often, entertained with Scripture narra- 
vol.. xr, 32 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 

tives, and stories from Bunyaii's Pilgrim's Progress, visited 
me daily, and shared his bread with me. Thus this pain- 
ful period passed over, till the parish provided a place for 
me, where for these fifty years I have found shelter and 
support." 

" Ah, my poor James," replied the clergyman, " I pity 
you ; to have spent fifty tedious years in such a desolate 
place and state : were you not often constrained to exclaim, 
'OLord, hoAvlong?'" 

"After all," said James, " I cannot complain of the time 
having ever hung heavily upon me ; never was I left quite 
lonely ; one companion or another was always provided ; 
and never have I been forsaken. During the first two years, 
an old invalid soldier was with me, who had had both legs 
shot away in the seven years' war. He was an honest, 
well-disposed man, often joined me in singing a spiritual 
hymn, and rendered me many a kind service. It was then 
that I found Christ to be precious as my only Saviour and 
portion. I was favored with continual peace and joy. My 
bodily suflerings also were greatly alleviated, so that my 
own hands could procure all that was needful for the sup- 
port of life. I could even, now and then, spare a trifle for 
my invalid friend, in return for his many kind services. 

"After his death, an aged, infirm woman occupied his 
place, to whom the parish committed the care of some for- 
saken orphans. These little ones often proved a source of 
entertainment and comfort to me, though it must be con- 
fessed, at the same time, that they often gave me a good 
deal of trouble and uneasiness ; for old Margaret frequently 
left her charge for hours and days entirely to me, and deeply 
did it grieve me to hear them cry without being able to ren- 
der them the needful assistance. 

"About twenty-two years ago, the parish placed with 
me the widow of the late shepherd, the aged Elizabeth. At 
first she manifested rather a peevish disposition, but after 
some time a great and happy change took place, so that we 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. f 

were enabled to live in the most peaceful manner ; and in- 
deed she rendered me so many and such kind services, that 
I felt constrained to pray that God himself would be ' her 
shield, and her exceeding great reward.' When I was 
deprived of her friendly aid by death, some other Christian 
friends favored me with frequent visits. But even in my 
solitary hours, I was not forsaken ; for at the very seasons 
in which no human bemg came near me, and all around 
seemed buried in deathlike silence, I felt the comfortable 
presence of our blessed Lord and Saviour so sensibly, that I 
could not sufficiently bless and praise his holy name. In- 
deed, I must acknowledge, that from infancy to old age, he 
has cared for me with greater tenderness and affection than 
an earthly parent could bestow upon a beloved child." 

" But," said the minister, " the ailment of your body, and 
its many infirmities, must have occasioned you severe pain, 
and I myself have sometimes heard you sigh and groan 
under your load. How, then, was it possible for you to 
maintain the peace, and even cheerfulness, to which you 
have just referred ?" 

" Dear sir," replied the cripple, " even in my earlier 
years, but especially since I was deprived of the use of my 
hands, I have constantly had recourse to two remedies which 
soothe all kinds of pain, and make me forget all sorrow. 
One of these is to ' humble myself under the mighty hand 
of God ;' the other, to lift up my soul in prayer to God. 
When my bodily pains began to assail me more severely, I 
called to remembrance all the mercies and the truth which 
my heavenly Father had shown me from my birth ; how by 
this very infirmity of my body, he had preserved me from 
many sins, into which persons in perfect health are too prone 
to fall, and in how wonderful a manner he had kept, fed, 
clothed, and supported me. Above all, I then remembered 
how mercifully he had drawn me to his Son, comforted me 
by his Spirit, cheered me with numberless enjoyments, and 
refreshed my soul with a sweet foretaste of eternal glory 



8 THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 

and bliss. When, after reviewing all his numberless mer- 
cies, I thought of my own nothingness and vileness — when 
I beheld, on the one hand, a poor worm of the dust, and on 
the other, the Lord of heaven and earth so graciously stoop- 
ing to my weakness, and loading me with benefits, I was so 
bowed down and melted under a sense of his goodness, as no 
longer to regard my bodily pains, which, in truth, are 'not 
worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be re- 
vealed ' hereafter ; I felt as if those pains, like the waves of 
the sea, had passed by without being able to harm me. At 
other times, I rose in spirit to Him who once came down 
from heaven into the miseries of this wretched world, and 
calling to my mind his sufferings and death, his resurrection 
and ascension, my soul rose above pain, as a little bird might 
hover above the ruins of a falling house. In such hours my 
sighs were turned into thanksgivings, and my lamentation 
and woe into a song of praise. Thus I may well say, poor 
cripple as I am, that by the good hand of God watching 
over and mercifully providing for me, I have yet enjoyed 
many seasons of comfort and happiness. Indeed, there was 
never a sunshiny summer, nor a fruitful autumn, which did 
not present me with its refreshing fruits ; for no sooner did 
ripe cherries or pears, apples or grapes, come on in their suc- 
cessive seasons, than one friendly Christian or another thought 
of poor James, and liberally supplied me from their stores." 
The young clergyman, while listening to these effusions 
of poor James, was deeply affected. Such faith he had not 
before witnessed. Unconsciously, yet most opportunely, his 
humble parishioner had been preaching a sermon to him ; 
for just at that time it so happened, that the young pastor, 
having met with some discouraging circumstances, was in a 
depressed frame of mind. The evening sun shed his parting 
rays on the pallid countenance of the sufferer, brightened by 
the holy joy of his soul ; and the minister left him with 
such a sense of the peace of God as he had never before 
enjoyed. 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. Q 

After this, James once more revived, and continued for 
several months, living a life of inward joy amidst bodily- 
pain. During this interval, he was often visited by his pas- 
tor, who, at each return, himself carried away more conso- 
lation and strength than he was enabled to impart. With 
the advance of the autumnal season, the poor man's last 
remaining strength began visibly to decline. Once more 
the clergj-man came ; the sufferer could no longer distinctly 
speak, but his looks conveyed a powerful expression of hu- 
mility, love, and gratitude. With a nod of thankfulness, 
and a look up to heaven, he took leav& of his kind friend, 
who felt as if a near and dear relative were being taken 
from him. He sent a young man to pass the night by the 
bedside of the dying believer. On his arrival he found two 
pious friends with him, one of whom was reading the latter 
chapters of the gospel of St. John. 

James fell asleep near midnight, and for several hours 
slept more comfortably than he had done for some time be- 
fore. During his slumber, his face became paler and paler ; 
yet so peaceful was it, that one of his friends could not but 
exclaim, "Surely, this is the countenance of one of the 
blessed above." On awaking, he uttered, in a clear tone, 
these words : "All is now accomplished ; now my eyes have 
seen, my heart has felt the things which I have so long be- 
lieved and hoped for." With a cheerful smile, he then fixed 
his look upwards, as if he were catching a view of the glories 
of heaven. Then turning to the two friends, he called them 
by name, and exhorted them, as well as the young man, to 
be faithful to the Lord Jesus in word and deed, to abstain 
from fleshly lusts which war against the soul, and to keep 
themselves unspotted from the world. After pronouncing a 
blessing on all, he requested his friends to read to him the 
103d Psalm, which they began ; and as they reached the 
closing words of the fourth verse, " Wlio crowneth thee with 
loving-kindness and tender mercies," he gently fell asleep in 
Jesus. The bright morning-star was shining into the cham- 
voL. XI. 32* 



10 THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 

ber as one of the friends closed his eyes, exclaiming, " Surely, 
here is one Avho has ' kept the faith ;' let us pray to God that 
he may grant us like faith, and preserve us in the same unto 
salvation." The three then united in prayer, and carried on 
an edifying conversation till full daybreak. As the young 
man reported these scenes to the pastor, he added, " I can- 
not tell you, sir, how I feel to-day — so cheerful, and yet so 
sad. This was my first visit to poor James, and yet he has 
left me a blessing such as, I trust, I shall have reason grate- 
fully to remember even in a better world." 

It was a fine autumnal day when the mortal remains of 
the poor cripple were carried to the grave. " Ah, my poor 
James," said the clergyman, while preparing for the funeral, 
" who will accompany you to the grave ; who will shed a 
tear for you ? It was not in your power to purchase the 
services of your neighbors ; you could give no meat or drink 
to the poor, you were yourself supported by the parish ; you 
were the lowest of all, and have not a single relative left in 
the village. But, though no one else should shed a tear for 
you, I will ; for I know what you have been to me, and 
how much I owe to you." But how astonished was he, 
on meeting the corpse at the church-door, to see the long 
procession that followed. From almost every house in the 
village one or more had come to join it, whilst others were 
seen standing before their cottages, the men with uncovered 
heads, and in silence viewing the procession as it passed. 
Still more affecting to the pastor was the deep, heartfelt 
emotion evidently manifested by many. Not merely tender- 
hearted women, but strong and rugged men shed tears, as 
if a beloved father or benefactor had been taken from them. 

The clergyman delivered a funeral address from the 
beautiful words of our Lord Jesus Christ, " Be thou faithful 
unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." Rev. 2:10. 
Never before had he preached with such deep feeling, so 
that the whole assembly was moved. When he had directed 
the minds of his hearers to the Christian's bright hope of a 



THE GERMAxX CRIPPLE. H 

Joyful resurrection, and pronounced the blessing, most of the 
people left the churchyard ; but the clergyman still lingered 
there with some of the friends of the deceased. Among 
them he noticed a venerable old man whom he had pre- 
viously met by his bedside, and the two men who had cheered 
his last hours by their Christian sympathy and support. 
Almost all of them were to outward appearance persons, in 
very humble life. Several did not belong to the parish, but 
had come from some remote part of the forest, 

" There is no kinsman here," said the clergyman, " who 
can offer to the kind friends from a distance any refreshment. 
May I, therefore, be allowed to invite them to the parsonage, 
there to partake of my homely fare." The funeral guests 
gladly accepted the friendly invitation, and placed themselves 
around his hospitable board. Addressing them, he said, " It 
really affords me sincere pleasure to have this day wit- 
nessed the many tears shed for our departed friend ; and yet, 
I confess, I rather wondered to see one so much honored in 
death, who in his lifetime was almost entirely disabled from 
rendering any service to his fellow-men." 

" Certainly," replied one of the men, " they are tears of 
affection and joy, rather than of sorrow, which we shed on 
account of dear James. How could we do otherwise than 
rejoice and thank God that his body, so wofully torn by 
agonies of pain, should now sweetly rest in the silent grave, 
and that his soul is now a happy partaker of those endless 
joys purchased by the Redeemer's blood. Yet allow me, 
reverend sir, to say, that you are mistaken in supposing that 
poor James had never been able to render any service to his 
fellow-creatures. I can say for myself, that when I, a poor, 
helpless child, forsaken by my own mother, was provided for 
by the parish, the old woman to whose care I was commit- 
ted, did very little for me, but James, on the contrary, did 
much. Whatever, at that time, he could spare from his 
earnings by knitting and sewing, he cheerfully gave to old 
Margaret to buy me milk and flour, and to supply me with 



12 THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 

linen and a warm bed. Whilst my nurse was fast asleep, 
deaf to my cries in the night, he had my crib placed near 
his straw bed, and willingly submitted to much inconven- 
ience on my behalf. As I advanced in years, he taught me 
to read, sent me to school, and laid out his last florin for me. 
But what is more, he taught me to know and to love my 
Saviour, and now I have the blessed hope of salvation, 
through faith in the merits and righteousness of my dear 
Redeemer. I live in a remote part of the forest, about nine 
miles from this place, and possess but little, having to sup- 
port a sickly wife and eight children, yet considering James 
as my greatest benefactor, I used occasionally to offer him a 
little money, or some refreshments, but he would never ac- 
cept them. ' Let me alone, dear Frederick,' he often said, 
* I am used to my oatmeal diet ; other provisions do not suit 
me. As for your money, save it for your children ; surely 
they will one day want it ; and your delicacies take to poor 
Gertrude, who is in a decline, and cannot eat black bread.' 
I frequently offered to attend him by day or by night, but 
his usual answer was, ' Frederick, believe me, I feel easier 
when I am alone ; when I really want help, I shall have it.' 
Thus he declined all offers of service, except that of keeping 
his room clean and washing his linen, and that, in his last 
illness, he allowed me for a few nights to watch by his bed- 
side." 

"Just so did he act by me,"- exclaimed a well-dressed 
farmer's wife, belonging to a neighboring village. " It would 
have been a real pleasure to me, if poor James had accepted 
what I was ready to present to him, for to no one do I owe 
so much ; but all my entreaties were in vain. Once, when 
taking with me a variety of little comforts, he made me 
weep, because he refused any acknowledgment of all the 
good he had done me. 'Do not make yourself uneasy,' said 
Le, ' my dear Catherine, but listen to what I say. Suppose 
you were about to present your pious countess with some nice 
fruit from your own garden, in grateful acknowledgment of 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 13 

all her kindness to you, and one of her servants should offer 
you for your fine pears, a fashionable lace-cap; you would 
surely reply, I neither can nor will sell my pears, for I have 
gathered them on purpose for my honored countess, neither 
is your fine head-dress suitable for me. Thus, my dear Cath- 
erine, the little good I can do to my neighbor, I do, I trust, 
from love to Christ ; and should I, a poor cripple, utterly in- 
capable of making the smallest return to my blessed Saviour 
for his numberless blessings, seek a recompense here below, 
by accepting what is really of as little use to me as the lace- 
cap would be to you ? You offer me a bottle of wine, I 
cannot drink it ; your husband kindly wishes to present me 
with a silk cap which he brought from the Tyrol, I cannot 
wear it ; and your money I do not need : no poor persons 
come to this lonely spot, nor can I seek them out ; of what 
use, therefore, would an Austrian ducat be to me?' All I 
could prevail upon him to take, was a little fruit, a few 
spoonsful of honey, and some linen which I had spun and 
woven myself; and yet to him, under God, I owe whatever of 
happiness I enjoy in the present world, and all that I hope 
for in the world to come. At only four years of age, I was 
brought by my mother to this village on her way to Dantzic, 
where my father was ; but in consequence of a severe cold, 
she fell ill, and died, leaving me a helpless, miserable orphan. 
Being committed to the charge of the shepherd's widow, I 
met — previously to the blessed change wrought on her by 
the instrumentality of poor James — with very hard treat- 
ment. Oh, how difierent was James' conduct towards me. 
He was all kindness, listened to my childish prattle, talked 
to me as one child does to another, and indeed through life 
he always appeared to me to have the simplicity of a little 
child, such as our Saviour requires of his disciples. He soon 
gained my whole confidence ; for he dressed me little dolls, 
and made me a present of a small bell, with which he him- 
self had played when he lived with his grandmother. Al- 
most all day long I sat on a little stool near his bedside, and 



14 THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 

after I had entertained myself with my childish play, he 
used to tell me instructive stories from the Bible. 

"Every morning and evening, and frequently also in the 
middle of the day, he prayed with us ; and young as I was, 
I felt that no words could have been more suitable to our 
circumstances, had we offered our prayers ourselves. He 
also used to sing some spiritual hymns so sweetly, that I 
think I never heard finer singing. Whilst knitting, he read 
to us a portion of Scripture, or employed me in reading it. 
Even when at work, his thoughts were still fixed upon God, 
and out of the fulness of a devout heart his mouth spoke. 
When I look back on the years spent under his care, I feel 
as if I had spent them in some hallowed spot where angels 
dwell." 

Of the aged friend whom the young clergyman had met 
at the bedside of James, he kindly inquired, " And how was 
it that you became so intimately acquainted with our 
James ?" 

" Sir," he replied, " if the friends who have just spoken 
occasioned him so much trouble when children, I have 
proved much more troublesome in my later years. I am 
old Lizzy's younger brother. "V\Tiilst abroad, I unhappily 
addicted myself to drinking. On my return home, I not 
only squandered all the earnings of my business, but also all 
the property which I inherited. When intoxicated, and 
refused admission into my lodging, I used to repair to the 
lodgings of my sister, and there I raged and slept away my 
drunken fit. On becoming sober, I received friendly admo- 
nitions from James, and severe scoldings from my sister ; but 
neither the one nor the other made any lasting impression. 
When, however, my sister, softened by the example of meek, 
patient James, began, like him, to reprove me in a gentle 
and afiectionate spirit, I felt ashamed of my unhappy pro- 
pensity ; and at length the happy hour was come, in which 
it pleased God, in infinite mercy, to open my heart, like that 
of Lydia, so that I could gladly attend to the words spoken 



THE GERMAN CRIPPLE. 15 

by my sister and by James. From that hour, I arose and 
returned to my heavenly Father, in the spirit of the prodigal 
son ; he received me graciously, and loved me freely, and 
has granted me grace steadily to persevere. Thus, sir, ' 
added the reclaimed old man, " not we only, but all who 
surround your table, have, in one way or another, reason to 
magnify the grace of God dispensed to us by the instrumen- 
tality of our dear departed friend." 

" JN"or will I," subjoined the young minister, with tears 
in his eyes, "be less willing to magnify divine grace. To 
me also poor James has proved a preacher of righteousness — 
of that righteousness of God which comes by faith in Christ ; 
and under the constraining influence of that grace, I trust I 
shall be enabled to lead a new life to the praise and glory 
of his holy name. Amen."' 

And now, reader, having perused the above narrative, 
do you not behold in it a strikmg exemplification of the 
blessed influence of Christianity ? See how it supported a 
poor cripple amidst all his poverty, sickness, and pain. Ob- 
serve liis meek submission and peaceful contentment, with 
an elevation of soul, and joyfuhiess of hope, which cannot 
but call forth your warm admiration and praise. Ought 
you not to feel stimulated thereby to exclaim with the 
apostle, " I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ ; for it 
is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believ- 
eth." Rom. 1:16. Should you not declare, with another 
apostle, " Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of 
persons." Acts 10 : 34. " The Lord maketh poor, and mak- 
eth rich ; he bringeth low, and lifteth up. He raiseth up 
the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the 
dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make them 
inherit the throne of glor}\" 1 Sam. 2 : 7, 8. 

And is not this narrative of poor James an eminent illus- 
tration of the truth, that even the poorest of the poor, when 
favored with the riches of God's free grace in Christ Jesus, 



16 THE GERiMAN CRIPPLE. 

may become " a sweet savor of Christ," and both in word 
and deed be "a burning and shining light," not merely 
within the narrow circle of their own immediate sphere of 
action, but far bej^ond it, even to remote and foreign lands, 
and to generations yet to come. Let, therefore, none say, in 
a strain of desponding fear and diffidence. As for me, I am 
so poor and insignificant, that no feeble attempt of mine can 
be expected to succeed ; really, I cannot do any good at all. 
Cheer up, poor fellow-Christian, encourage yourself in the 
God of your salvation ; weak and insignificant as you are 
in yourself, come boldly to Jesus. Receive out of his inex- 
haustible fulness "grace for grace;" and remember what 
your blessed Saviour says : " If any man thirst, let him come 
unto me, and drink. He that believeth on me, as the Scrip- 
lure hath said, out of- his belly shall flow rivers of living 
water." John 7 : 37, 38. 

And thou, my suffering fellow-Christian, amidst all thy 
bodily or mental affliction, call to thy recollection the thou- 
sands and tens of thousands that have suffered, and do suffer, 
even far more severely than ever thou hast, and like poor 
James, draw comfort from a view of thy suffering Redeemer, 
" who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the 
cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand 
of the throne of God." Heb. 12:2. Meekly submit, and 
patiently endure ; be thou faithful unto death, and he will 
give thee a cro■v^^l of life. Rev. 2 : 10. 



THE 

BLACKSMITH'S WIFE. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



Some years since, I was called to the ministry in a large 
town in the British provinces, where wickedness and super- 
stition, and mere forms of religion abounded. Yet many 
were drawn by curiosity to pass away a tedious winter's 
Sabbath evening in attending the preaching of the Gospel. 
Among these I noticed a lady of fine form and beautiful 
features, whose intelligent countenance and apparently at- 
tentive mind engaged my special interest. 

She uniformly took her seat near the stand in the large 
room in which I officiated, and became a steady hearer one 
part or more of every Sabbath. Every effort, however, was 
unavailing to find an opportunity to speak to her. This she 
seemed most sedulously to avoid ; and for reasons needless to 
mention, neither I nor the members of the church could 
pay her a visit at home. She continued thus the apparently 
attentive, and, as we hoped, the profited hearer of the word, 
for nearly a year, when we noticed that her well-known 
place was unoccupied. 

Some months passed away, when one morning her hus- 
band waited on me, and with many apologies for the liberty 
he had taken, informed me that his wife was drawing near 
her end ; that no persuasions could induce her to give up 
her wish to see me, and yield to his desire to send for another 
minister, and that to gratify her dying request he wished me 
to pay her a visit. 

I assented, but my mind was filled with dread lest she 
had sent for me to confirm a delusive hope, or do what man 
could not do in preparing her for death. I resolved to be 
faithful to her soul as God should give me grace, and thus 
entered her room. She was alone. how altered that 
lovely countenance. Emaciating disease had claimed her 
for its prey, and had nearly finished its destructive work. 
But her eye beamed with intelligence, and on her whole 
aspect seemed to rest an unearthly calmness, a heavenly 
and serene smile, such as before I had never seen. "I re- 

^ OL. XI, 33 



2 THE BLACKSMITH'S WIFE. 

gret, Mrs. C ," said I, " to find you so ill." " Yes, sir," 

was the reply, " I am very ill ; I have suffered the most 
excruciating pain — more than I could have thought it possi- 
ble I could sustain ; but, sir, it will soon be over — I am 
going fast — I shall soon be in heaven." 

After a moment's pause I said, " You express a very 
confident hope ; will you inform me on what your hope is 
founded ?" 

" Sir," was the answer, " I am a great smner : not that 
I have committed what are usually called gross and open 
sins ; from these, by divine goodness, I have been preserved ; 
my life has been externally moral ; but I now have, and 
always have had, a dreadfully wicked heart, full of proud, 
vain, and sinful thoughts : and there is so much evil in sin, 
committed as it is against so good and gracious a God and 
Saviour. But the Lord, I trust, has shown me my sinful- 
ness, and given me repentance, and pardoned my sins through 
Christ ; and I have been, and still am as happy, I think, as 
a mortal can be on this side an eternal world of joy. I have 
no merit ; I justly deserve eternal death ; in my heart I 
have been a rebel against God, and my only hope is in the 
love of God in Christ." 

" How long has this been your state of mind ?" 

" I was drawn, sir, like many others, by curiosity, to hear 
the singing and preaching at your meeting. I there heard 
such sentiments as I had never heard before : they were to 
me entirely new ; but as when I was a child I had read the 
Bible, they seemed just like the language I remembered 
then. I could not stay away the next Sabbath evening. 
The more I attended the more I was interested, and the 
more disposed to read the Bible alone ; and soon I learned 
what a sinful creature I was. With a sorrowing heart and 
streaming eyes I read and prayed, and the Lord heard my 
prayer ; he assisted me to trust in Christ the Saviour of sin- 
ners, such as I felt myself to be, and filled my soul with 
peace and joy in believing. Thus, sir, I continued reading, 
praying, and rejoicing in the Lord, till it was his pleasure, 
some months since, to lay me on this bed of pain, which in 
the end will assuredly be the bed of death. And since I 
have been here, it is impossible for me to describe the happi- 
ness I have felt in prayer, and praise, and meditation on the 
love and grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. I feel that I love 



THE BLACKSMITH'S WIFE. 3 

him, and I long for the moment which shall bring a sinner 
like me, saved by his grace, into the presence of Him who 
died for me, to praise him for ever." 

"But how was it," said I, "that such being your feel- 
ings before your sickness, you attended so seldom the public 
worship 'of God ?" 

To this she replied, " It was only, sir, at such times as I 
could persuade my husband to take care of my child and 
attend to some other matters, that I could be present, which 
I generally could once a day, sometimes twice." 

" I Avill ask you," said I, " one question more. How was 
it, that after such an experience of the grace and love of the 
Saviour, you did not feel it your duty and .your privilege to 
make a public profession of rehgion, and come to the Lord's 
supper, or ever speak to me or any of the members of the 
church on religious subjects ?" 

" Sir," she replied, "I felt so unworthy I was afraid to 
speak : I did not know there was a being on earth who had 
had such joys and sorrows ; I had never heard of an ex- 
pression of such views from any one ; but when I read the 
Bible and prayed, I saw that such must be the character of 
real Christians. I M'as, as it were, in a new world. Every 
thing was new — my hopes, my joys, my sorrows, my tastes 
and pursuits were new, and even nature itself seemed to 
wear a new and cheerful aspect. I saw and owned the 
hand of God in every thing. ] found a divine reality in 
rehgion — a peaceful, joyous, and purifying reality, of which 
I had never conceived an idea." 

After further conversation we bowed before the mercy- 
seat in prayer and praise, and I retired, charmed, delighted, 
and edified. My soul burst forth in almost involuntary ex- 
clamations of thanldulness and love to God for his rich grace 
so eminently displayed. 

Her life was protracted a few weeks. During the former 
part of that period my visits were frequently repeated. O 
every occasion I found her in the same peaceful and joy^ 
state. Loathing herself on account of sin with the deepesi 
humility ; patient under suffering ; admiring the love of 
God ; extolling the riches of divine grace, and almost rap- 
turously longing for the happy moment, as she termed it, 
which would release her from the remains of sin, and intro- 
duce her to the presence of her Saviour. Duty now called 



4 THE BLACKSMITH'S WIFE. 

me from home for three weeks. " Sh'," said she, " I shall 
see you no more till I meet you in heaven. how I long 
for the happy day to come ; and yet I am willing to wait 
the Lord's time and bear my pains : they are nothing to 
what my Saviour suffered for me. I am sweetly assured, 
sinner as I am, I shall soon jom the holy angels and blessed 
spirits above in the joyful and everlasting celebration of his 
praise, and that till then he will not leave nor forsake me." 

On my return I found her happy and purified spirit had 
taken its departure about ten days previous. Her husband, 
when I saw him, who had never before been witness to the 
influence and happy effects of genuine religion, exclaimed 
in astonishment, as though a mystery too mighty for him to 
grasp were before his mind, " Sir, my wife was the strangest 
woman I ever saw. I cannot understand it. She did nothing 
all the time the few last days of her life, when a little free 
from the violence of pain, but talk about Christ and heaven 
to all around her ; and while her strength continued suffi- 
cient, she was singing hymns and praising God ; and was as 
happy in the thought of dying, as an affectionate child, after 
a long absence, is to return home to the arms of a fond 
father." 

Thus died and triumphed in the faith and hope of the 
Gospel, one whose religion may emphatically be denominated 
the religion of the Bible. Never had she the opportunity 
of conversing on the subject with a Christian on earth, ex- 
cept in the interviews I have related, which were after her 
religious character had been formed. Here was no priestly 
influence employed — here were no adventitious circumstances 
to bias her mind — ^liere Avere no persuasions of religious 
friends to work on her feelings — here were no fashionable 
examples to imitate. She heard the Gospel — she was in- 
terested. She read the Bible, and prayed to God in retire- 
ment ; and the simple majesty and piercing energy of the 
truth found the avenue to her heart, and made her a lover 
of holiness and spiritual religion ; a sincere and humble ser- 
vant of Christ ; happy in life, happy in death, and glorious 
and happy, who can doubt that believes the Bible, in heaven. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



l¥o. 4o7. 

THE 



BIBLE THE WORD OF GOD, 



It is evident that the volume which we call the Bible 
is the production of mind. It did not come into existence by 
chance. It bears unequivocal marks of intelligent design. 
Some beifig, then, is its author. But, 

1. The devil is not the author of the Bible. A¥ere he 
possessed of the requisite ability, no motive could induce 
him to publish it. It does not contain a chapter which 
favors his malicious designs. Could he have produced it, 
he would have displayed the most consummate folly in un- 
dertaking it. He appears to decided disadvantage through- 
out the book. He is introduced to us as a liar, and as such 
he is made to appear from first to last. It is the great de- 
sign of the Bible to subvert his kingdom on the earth. Hence 
his efi^orts, in all ages since the Bible was published, have 
been directed against it. Nor will they cease till the time 
specified m the Apocalypse, when the angel of the Lord 
shall bind him, and cast him into the burning pit. 

2. Wicked meii did not produce the Bible. Were their 
ability sufficient — which is by no means admitted — the 
dis2)ositio7i would have been wanting. The greatest hostil- 
ity to their motives, principles, and practice, is apparent in 
all parts of it. The rebukes it administers, and the anath- 
emas it hurls upon them, are terrific and overwhelming ; 
their soul recoils at the sound. Few of them are willing to 
hear what the Scriptures do say. The places in which the 
Bible is explained, are the last on earth where the wicked 
love to resort. The most awful curses that fall from their 
lips, are uttered against the Bible and its expounders. 
Wicked men the authors of the Bible I Will a man design- 
edly empty the contents of a burning oven into his own 
bosom ? The Bible pours upon the wicked the quenchless 
fire of God. 

But Avicked men could not, if they ivoidd, have Avritten 
the Bible. It is as much out of their power to compose 
VOL. XI. 33* 



2 THE BIBLE THE WORD OF GOD. 

such a volume as to create a universe. The combined tal- 
ent of all the wicked that have lived could not have pro- 
duced the^rs^ chapter of Genesis. The conceptions in that 
chapter are infinitely above the natural range of human 
thought. 

" In the beginning, God created the heaven and the 
earth." AVhat an expression. That verse contains enough 
to employ the mind of a created being through eternal ages. 
"In the beginning" — when w^as that time; or rather, at 
what point in eternity was it? Can mortals inform us? 
No. Can the angels ? We presume not. " Heaven and 
earth." How much is comprehended in the term "heav- 
en ?" Who can tell ? Could the tcickecl men w^ho it is 
supposed wrote the Bible ? No ; they were utterly destitute 
of the means of knowing how much is comprehended in that 
word. No man living knows, nor can any mere man form 
a rational conjecture, with the least evidence that he is 
right. " Created" — What is it to create? Who can in- 
form us how God created the heaven and the earth ? AVe 
are willing to meet those who assert that the Bible Avas 
''got t(p " by u-icked men, at this first verse in the book ; 
and hear from their lips how the ideas expressed in that 
verse ever entered the mind of the man who, as they sup- 
pose, gave it birth. TJiat verse alone is infinitely above 
the thoughts of any luicked man. 

3. Good men did not originate the Bible. They ivoidd 
not have composed it of their own accord, if they could have 
done it. Good men are honest ; but if the Bible is a mere 
human production, the Avriters of it were dishonest. They 
present it to us as the word of the Lord. Now, if it is not 
the word of the Lord, the Avriters have deceived us. But 
good men will not deceive. If, then, good men wrote the 
Bible, they did not write it as a composition of their own. 
They were the penmen of the Lord, for they assert it to be 
his word. But more — even good men are incapable of pro- 
ducing such a work as the Bible. The thoughts are not the 
thoughts of men. We are in possession of a variet)^ of writ- 
ings of good men — many excellent works have been produced 
by them ; but there is nothing in these \\Titings which will 
compare with the Scriptures. _ The best productions of the 
ablest and most pious men fall inexpressibly short, in excel- 
lence, of the contents of the Bible. 



THE BIBLE THE WORD OF GOt). 3 

4. Holy angeU are not the authors of the Scriptures. 
Should they give a vohime to man, they would practise no 
deception. Holy beings cannot deceive. But if angels 
wrote the Bible, they have deceived us. Who, then, is its 
author ? I answer, 

1. The Bible aj^i^cars to be the word of God, whether 
regarded as a whole, or examined in its several parts. It is 
said, that those who have studied comparative anatomy can 
determine to what species an animal belongs by seeing only 
a single bone — every species being distinct, and having 
marks of its own. So is the Bible distinct from all other 
books. Not a leaf taken from any part of it can ever be 
mistaken, by one familiar with books, for a leaf from another 
book. But the Bible, as a whole and in its various parts, is 
not more manifestly distinct than it is divine. It addresses 
us with the authority of God. We feel, when reading it, 
that we are communing with one who is God over all. 
The solemnity which pervades it is found no\A4iere else. 
The knowledge displayed is peculiar to God — the wisdom 
exhibited is infinite. What subduing energy is conveyed in 
its unassuming language. The sinner trembles before it, 
and the saint is transported with delight. 

Hov/ unlike the Koran of Mohammed. The latter is 
silly and absurd : whatever of excellence it possesses, was 
doubtless stolen from the Scriptures. The Koran is weak — 
it can gain its way only where the sword precedes it. The 
Bible makes its way in spite of swords ; no human means 
can resist its power. Some would have us believe that the 
Bible was compiled from the writings of philosophers. Ev- 
ery chapter of it affixes to such an idea the charge of folly 
and ignorance. 

2. The Bible claims to be the word of God. It does not 
come before us without name or author ; it declares itself to 
be from God, and demands an acknowledgment of its claims. 
Some authors send out their books with an apology or a pre- 
face to conciliate the favor of the reader. Far otherudse is 
the address of the Bible. There is no apology on its pages — 
it has no preface. The first verse contains a bold announce- 
ment of a fact : this fact we are called upon to receive on 
the assertion there made. It is not even intimated, that 
any one would dare to question it. The word spoken is 
uttered with all the authority of Jehovah. Such is the 



4 THE BIBLE THE WORD OF GOD. 

character of all the statements : they boldly demand our 
belief. A "Thus saith the Lord" is sometimes prefixed. 
This is presumed to be sufficient to secure the attention and 
obedience of those who hear. It would be strange if God 
should address man as an erring creature speaks to his fel- 
loAV. Jehovah has no consciousness of liability to mistake : 
he knows whereof he affirms. Though man should not 
give him credit for truth, the whole universe besides responds 
to all he asserts. The authority of the book is evidence that 
it came from God. 

3. The Bible is in'oved to be the word of God by evi- 
dence internal and external — by facts, institutions, and a 
great number of the most competent witnesses ; among whom 
are Jesus Christ and his apostles. The testimony of the 
Saviour is explicit concerning the Old Testament, and he 
gave assurance, that his apostles should be infallibly guided 
in the composition of the New. That they were thus 
guided, is a fact supported by the strongest evidence. 

Again, the church of G od has received the Scriptures as 
his infallible truth ever smce they were published ; nor has 
she ever had reason to doubt that they are all which they 
claim to be. 

Just so far as individuals and communities conform to 
the teachings of the divine word, they are prosperous and 
happy. Let the Bible be adopted as the only rule of faith — 
let its principles be acted upon by all men, mider all circum- 
stances — then wars will cease, iamily feuds be known no 
more, fanaticism fail, the race of impostors become extinct, 
true piety prevail, and the millennium be ushered in. Then 
will the morning stars again sing, and the sons of God again 
shout for joy over the earth, as they did when she rolled 
from the hands of her Maker, and man went forth formed 
in the divine image. 



PUBLISHF.D BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



( ( 



No. 4o8. 

A MAN OVERBOARD. '^ 



Such was the startling ciy that ran through a ship on 
her recent passage across the Atlantic. One hurried voice 
after another gave the alarm in tones of deep anxiety. Every- 
one below leaped upon deck, and numbers sprang into the 
rigging, to catch, if possible, a sight of the unfortunate man. 
The orders of the officers were given with appalling energy, 
and as the stately ship swung round, obedient to her helm, 
it seemed as though she felt the excitement of the scene, 
and paused to take part in it. 

I linger for a moment, impenitent friend, to direct your 
thoughts to your own danger. You are overboard, in a most 
melancholy sense. You have fallen, by your sins, into a 
deep and most dangerous sea. 

The raging leaves constituted one item of that sailor's 
peril. They threatened to overwhelm him at once, or weary 
him out by their violence. But the evil passions of your 
heart — what are they but raging waves ? They beat you 
about with violence. They have often broken the fastenings 
which reason and conscience had thrown around you to bind 
you to God and duty. You have seen your firmest purposes 
dashed in pieces by them. Sin is strong within you, and 
like the heavy surge that rushes furiously upon the beach, 
drives you on in your perilous career. 

The darkness of the flight added to the dangers of the 
sailor. It hid from his view any object that might have 
been thrown from the ship to aid him, and kept him from 
the sight of those who might risk their lives for his safety. 
So the darkness which sin has brought upon your mind is a 
fearful aspect of your danger. You have been losing sight 
of God by departing from him, like the drifting mariner re- 
ceding from the ship. You have been gazing so intently 
and so long upon things that perish with the using, that 
things imperishable and eternal are all but invisible. The 
god of this world has blinded the mind. Its darkness re- 
specting God and divine things is as when the shadows of 



2 'A MAN Overboard." 

the night settle down upon the ocean, envelopmg its waters 
in still deeper gloom. 

It Avas a fearful addition to the fallen sailor's peril, that 
he had nothing to support him. The unfathomable sea 
was beneath him, and neither oar nor plank aided him in 
his struggle with the waves. And what have you to rest 
upon, dear reader, while living without hope and without 
God in the world ? The everlasting arms are not beneath 
you, for you have rejected their support. You have not for 
a foundation the Rock of ages, for you have refused to place 
your feet upon it. There is nothing to keep you from sulk- 
ing ; your sins, like a mill-stone, are carrying you down. 
The raging waves of lawless passions, the darkness of your 
erring mind, and the absence of all divine support, constitute 
an array of dangers most terrific in their bearuig on your 
everlasting welfare. What emotions of anxiety they ought 
to awaken. 

Look again at the ship. Every heart beat quick at the 
alarm that a man was overboard. It needed not an order 
to raise a boat's crew. They were already m the boat, im- 
pelled by a sailor's generous love for his shipmate, and ready 
and eager to brave any peril to save him. 

So, dear friend, there has been the most tender anxiety 
that you should not perish in your sins. Wliat compassion 
filled the bosom of the mfinite Saviour. How ignominious 
and agonizing was his atoning death. And what tenderness 
moved the HolyGhost as he drew nigh so often to so pol- 
luted a heart as yours, to save it from perdition. And the 
friends of God about you, like the compassionate shipmates 
of the drowning sailor, have laid hold of every rope, thrown 
over every plank, have hastened with all earnestness to 
secure your safety. The Bible, the Sabbath, and the sanc- 
tuary have been round about you, and like so many angels 
of mercy, have been seeking to raise your smking head above 
the fatal billows. And the angels of God have been Avait- 
ing to rejoice over your salvation, and to raise their tri- 
umphant acclamations that one more perishing sinner had 
leaped from the sea upon the everlasting rock. 

The boat rapidly sped its way in the direction of the 
drowning mariner, and was soon out of sight as it plunged 
into the surrounding darkness. It was a question of ago- 
nizing interest to all on board, whether the lost man would 



"A MAN OVERBOARD." 3 

be recovered. Meanwhile the rocket shot up with brilliant 
glare into the sky, and minute-guns were fired, that he 
might know, if alive, that no pains were spared to save him 

"VYhat agonizing suspense, too, dear reader, has been en- 
dured on your behalf by affectionate Christian friends, as 
they have seen your danger among the waves of temptation 
and sin, and have witnessed the efforts made to recover you. 
Every means of grace has been to them like the efforts made 
to save the lost sailor, and in painful anxiety they have 
awaited the result. 

At last the returning boat emerged from the darkness ; 
but to the captain's anxious inquiry came the dismal notes 
of the reply, "He's gone, sir. I" "He's gone I" reechoed 
through everj'^ part of the ship ; and gloom, deeper than that 
of the surrounding midnight, settled upon every soul. 

E-eader, have not all the precious influences of the Bible, 
the Sabbath, and the sanctuary, been resisted by you ? 
Have you not been appealed to in vain by the kind voice of 
your Saviour ? Have not the strivings of the Spirit failed 
to reclaim your wandering heart ? Has not revival after 
revival left you still impenitent ? Have not divine mercies 
and afflictions lifted up their voice without success ? Has 
not the oar, the plank, and the life-boat been sent to your 
aid, and you still remain in the dark sea of sin ? Then how 
aptly is your desperate condition described by the language, 
" He is gone.'' You may yet sojourn on earth. Divine 
compassion may continue to lengthen the cords of life. But 
you are gone — gone far from the sweetest fountains of en- 
joyment, the friendship of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 
You have gone away from the hallowed influence and fel- 
lowship of the samts, and from all the precious hopes of 
everlasting life. The drowning sailor is but a feeble emblem 
of the danger and misery of your condition. 

The ship lingered a while, as if reluctant to leave the 
fatal scene. But the deepest compassion, and the most 
daring self-exposure could do no more, and all had failed. 
At last the order was given. The sliip resumed her course, 
and the powerful breeze soon bore her far from the watery 
grave of the droAvned mariner. 

So, impenitent friend, the ark of safety will soon pass on 
its way, and leave you for ever. It has already lingered 
long. The infinite compassion of God has directed its delay 



4 " A MAN OVERBOARD." 

on your account. Had it not been for that kindness, long 
since it would have receded from your view, and have been 
for ever beyond your reach. But now it is at hand. Its 
door is wide open. " Yet there is room." 

A multitude, rescued from the raging seas and safe on 
board, unite their earnest entreaties that you would join 
them. In that number are some of the nearest and dearest 
of your friends. They know your peril, for they too have 
been overboard, and have had a fearful struggle with the 
waves. But now, exulting in their rescue, they pour the 
kindest appeals on your ears, to hasten into the same place 
of safety. With unspeakable joy would they hail you as a 
partaker with them in the blessings of redeeming mercy. 

But louder and sweeter than even their notes are those 
of the great Captain of salvation. The ark is his. His 
love and power prepared it. It floats in safety through 
every storm. And there issues from it the animating and 
cheering appeal, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It falls on your ears 
as you are tossed to and fro upon the dangerous sea of sin. 
Laboring under the power of strong passions, and heavily 
laden with iniquity, and sinking rapidly beyond the reach of 
that voice, yet noiv it is heard. Now there is hope. Hasten 
on board. 

But you refuse and still linger. The door, long open, is 
shut. The ark, long waiting, floats away. The wise, the 
penitent, the believing, the redeemed, all that obeyed the 
Saviour's voice, are safe on board, and 'with songs of exul- 
tation are borne towards the haven of eternal rest. Their 
voices, so long inviting you to go with them, die away in 
the distance, and are heard no more. You are left — aban- 
doned for ever on the ocean of despair. Neither oar, nor 
plank, nor life-boat are near you. No friendly ship will 
ever pass that way. " Let him alone," is the dreadful sen- 
tence against one who had wearied out the patience of God. 
And the melancholy dirge uttered over the drowning mari- 
ner as he sank into the sea, is repeated over you: " HE IS 
GONE!" "HE IS GONE!" 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 459. 

THE 



EYES OPENED 



" Lord, open his eyes, that he may see," was the prayer 
offered by Ehsha the prophet, when his servant, as they were 
encompassed by the Syrian host, cried out, " Alas, master, 
what shall we do?" And the answer is recorded: "The 
Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw ; and 
behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire 
round about Elisha." You, reader, are compassed about by 
a multitude of unseen objects far more wonderful and worthy 
of regard. The objects around you are of such magnitude, 
and such interest to you, that if your eyes were opened to 
see them just as they are, this world, with all its attractions 
and absorbing concerns, would fade from your view. 

Y'^ou would see "an innumerable company of migeW 
performing a great variety of most important offices, and 
standing, some of them at least, in the most intimate and 
interesting relations to you : the swift messengers and mighty 
ministers of God's throne ; the constant attendants of Christ's 
person, and the glad agents in his kingdom of love and mercy ; 
the guardians of Christians in their earthly footsteps, and 
their representatives in the court of heaven ; the vigilant and 
affectionate friends of sinners, watching with deep solicitude 
their continued impenitence, or their increasing convictions ; 
and when one of them repents, hastening to communicate 
the tidings to their kindred spirits, and diffuse through all 
the heavenly host the seraphic joy which this happy event 
enkindles in their own bosoms. 

Y'^ou would see great numbers of evil spirits plotting 
ceaseless mischief agamst our race, and exulting in the too 
successful execution of their malicious schemes, prowling 
about the earth, like roaring lions, seeking whom they may 
devour ; besieging many a human heart, intrenching them- 
selves in many more, and leading the great mass of mankind, 
yourself perhaps among the rest, bound and blindfold, in 
VOL. XI. 34 



2 THE EYES OPENED. 

willing yet fatal captivity, down to the chains and darkness 
of their everlasting prison. 

You would see God everywhere present, all-knowing and 
all-controlling. Angels, and all holy creatures, are but the 
happy agents of his infinite benevolence. Evil spirits are 
his unwilling instruments. You can no more flee from him 
than from the universe, than from yourself In the sublime 
language of Scripture, you " live, and move, and have your 
being in him." Do you not feel his hand holding you ? Do 
you not see his eye fastened on your heart ? Does it beam 
with sweet complacency on your humble and growing piety ? 
There is heaven in that look of love. Does it flash with holy 
indignation on your unrepented and cherished sins ? That 
fro^\Ti of displeasure is hell. You may close your eyes against 
it now, but if you continue impenitent, you must one day see 
it, and it wdll kindle in your bosom the flames of the bottom- 
less pit. 

You would see Christ knocking at the door of your heart 
for admission, or interceding in your behalf at the right hand 
of the throne of God. He himself says, " Behold, I stand at 
the door, and knock. If any man hear my voice, and open 
the door, I will come in and sup with him, and he with me." 
Behold him at the door of your heart, knocking and waiting 
for an answer, his locks wet with the dew of the morning, 
his feet bedewed with precious blood ; one hand pointing to 
Gethsemane and Calvar}", the other laden with the blessings 
which he purchased there, and would now bestow on you, 
and his eyes lifted to heaven as the place of your future 
rcAvard, the final consummation of your bliss. Oh, lovely 
attitude ; can you turn your back upon the sight ? 

Backsliding Christian, he knocks at the door of your 
heart, and with beseeching tenderness inquires, Will you 
also go away ? Lukewarm professor, he stands before you, 
and methinks I hear him exclaim, " Crucified afresh ; wound- 
ed in the house of my friends." Have you, like Peter, in 
the hour of temptation, denied your Lord for a few paltry 
pieces of silver, or a few empty puffs of honor ? He turns 
his eye upon you, with a look of unutterable compassion and 
love. That look made Peter " weep bitterly." Would that 
it might aflect you in like manner. Art thou a consistent 
and devoted follower of Christ ? All unworthy as thou art, 
rebel as thou hast been, he intercedes for vou with his Father, 



THE EYES OPENED. 3 

that you may share with him his universal inheritance and 
his everlasting kingdom. Behold the gracious attitude of 
the divine Intercessor. Listen to his accents of love and 
mercy. Do they not fill your soul with wonder, gratitude, 
and joy ? 

You would see the Holy Spirit carrying forward his work 
of renovating and saving grace in our fallen world. This 
heavenly monitor comes often to the sinful soul in all the 
severity of wisdom and goodness, warning, striving, alarm- 
ing, convincing, by arguments drawn from heaven, earth, and 
hell, and persuading by the more melting eloquence of a 
Saviour's prayers, and tears, and blood. He has often made 
you these gracious visits ; and did you repulse him ? Did 
he go away grieved? How could you grieve your best 
Friend ? How could you grieve infinite love and mercy ? 
How dared you resist the only influence that can save your 
ruined soul ? Or did you comply with his convincing and 
persuasive influence, and give him free admittance to your 
heart ? Then your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, 
and your spirit his inner sanctuary. Then he rejoices while 
he imparts to you the joys of salvation, and prepares you for 
the perfect bliss of heaven. Will you mar at once his joy 
and yours by defiling the temple of the Holy Ghost ? 

You would see death near ; perhaps at hand. I seem to 
see, in near prospect, your dying bed. Yes, yours. Call it 
not another's ; it will be your own. Death enters your 
chamber an unexpected visitor, and finds you unprepared. 
You turn pale ; your lips quiver ; your frame is convulsed, 
and you expire with despair on your countenance, remorse 
in your conscience, and these words on your tongue : " Oh, 
the worm that never dies, the fire that never shall be 
quenched I" How unlike the departure of the Christian. 
Death has no terrors for him. He awaits its approach with 
a cheerful composure ; triumphs over the conqueror, sings 
the paean, " death, where is thy sting ? grave, where 
is thy victory ?" and straightway receives at the hand of his 
Saviour a crown of everlasting life. 

You would have a near view oi judgment and eter'nity. 
Look forward but a little space, and what do you see ? The 
heavens and the earth have fled away. The Judge has 
come invested with infinite majesty and glory, and attended 
by a countless host of angels. He has taken his seat on the 



4 THE EYES OPENED. 

great white throne, opened the books of jfinal account, and 
gathered all nations before him ; and they are judged out of 
the things written in the books. The righteous first receive 
their sentence: " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the 
kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." 
And when they are seated on their thrones with their Judge, 
he pronounces sentence on the wicked: " Depart, ye cursed, 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." 
The subsequent scene no tongue can tell, no heart conceive ; 
it transcends imagination. An eternal heaven of ever-grow- 
ing knowledge, holiness, and joy. An endless hell of ever- 
increasing shame and misery. Who can grasp the mighty 
conception ? Who but would be overvvhelmed, were liis eyes 
opened to behold the dread reality ? Were you to have a 
view of your position at the judgment, of your throne in 
heaven, or your bed in hell, could you endure the sight ? 

Are these things indeed so ? What manner of person, 
then, ought you to be in all holy conversation and godliness ? 
You stand on holy ground ; the air you breathe is holy ; 
spirits from another world are about you, intent upon your 
weal or woe. You have your being in God, your almighty 
friend or enemy. The blessed Saviour woos your love, or 
intercedes in your behalf The Holy Spirit strives with you, 
or dwells in you. Death has already marked you for his 
victim. The judgment-day is at hand ; your next step may 
be hito eternity. Heaven stands with open gates for you to 
enter. Hell yawns to receive you. And does such a being 
live only to occupy himself with the trifles of this fleeting 
world ? How can you remain unconcerned about the salva- 
tion of your soul, when all the high orders of intelligent 
spirits are awake to its momentous interests ? The Lord 
open your eyes to behold as much of the unseen world as 
you can bear, lest at length it burst upon you with sudden 
and overwhelming terrors. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Xo. 460. 

DESTRUCTION 



THE INQUISITION AT MADRID. 



Col. Lemanouski, formerly an officer under Napoleon, 
gives the following vivid sketch of a scene of which he was 
an eye-witness : 

In the year 1809, behig at Madrid, my attention was 
directed to a Roman Catholic Inquisition in the neighbor- 
hood of that city. Napoleon had previously issued a decree 
for the suppression of this institution wherever his victorious 
troops should extend their arms. I reminded Marshal Soult, 
then governor of Madrid, of this decree, who directed me to 
proceed to its execution on this far-famed establishment. 
With my regiment, the 9th of the Polish lancers, he gave 
me two others, one of which, the 117th, was under the 
command of Col. De Lile, who is now, like myself, a minis- 
ter of the Gospel. 

With these troops I proceeded to the Inquisition, which 
was about five miles from the city. It was surrounded by 
a wall of great strength, and defended by about four hun- 
dred soldiers. When we arrived at the walls, I addressed 
one of the sentinels, and summoned the holy fathers to sur- 
render to the imperial army, and open the gates of the 
Inquisition. The sentinel who was standing on the wall 
appeared to enter into conversation for a few moments with 
some one vnthin, at the close of which he presented his 
musket and shot one of my men. This was a signal for 
attack, and I ordered my troops to fire upon those who 
appeared on the wall. 

It was soon obvious that it was an unequal warfare. Our 
troops were in the open plain, and exposed to a destructive 
fire. We had no cannon, nor could we scale the walls, and 
the gates successfully resisted all attempts at forcing them. 
I saw that it was necessary to change the mode of attack, 
VOL. XI. 34* 



2 INaUISITION AT MADRID. 

and directed some trees to be cut down and trimmed and 
brought on the groimd, to be used as battering-rams. Pres- 
ently the walls began to tremble, and under the well-directed 
and persevering application of the ram, a breach was made, 
and the imperial troops rushed into the Inquisition. 

Here we met with an incident which nothing but Jesuit- 
ical effrontery is equal to. The inquisitor-general, followed 
by the father confessors in their priestly robes, all came out 
of their rooms as we were making our way into the interior 
of the Inquisition, and with long faces and their arms crossed 
over their breasts, as though they had been deaf to all the 
noise of the attack and defence, and had just learned what 
was going on, addressed themselves in the language of rebuke 
to their own soldiers, saying, "Why do you fight our friends 
the French?" 

Their intention, apparently, was to make us think that 
this defence was wholly unauthorized by them, hoping they 
should thus have a better opportunity in the confusion and 
plunder of the Inquisition to escape. Their artifice was too 
shallow. I caused them to be placed under guard, and all 
the soldiers of the Inquisition to be secured as prisoners. 

We then proceeded through room after room — found 
altars, and crucifixes, and wax-candles in abundance — the 
proportions of the architecture were perfect — the ceiling and 
floors were scoured and highly polished — there was every 
thing to please the eye and gratify a cultivated taste ; but 
where were those horrid instruments of torture of which we 
had been told, and where those dungeons in which himian 
beings were said to be buried alive ? We searched in vain. 
The holy fathers assured us that they had been belied — tluit 
ive had seen all; and I was prepared to believe it. 

But Col. De Lile was not so ready to give up the search. 
At his instance, water was brought in and poured over the 
marble floor, the slabs of which were large and beautifully 
polished. Presently an opening was discovered, and as all 
hands were at work for further discovery, a soldier with the 
butt of his musket struck a spring, when the marble slab 
flew up. Then the faces of the inquisitors grew pale, and 
as Belshazzar, when the hand appeared writing on the wall, 
so did these men of Belial shake and quake in every bone, 
joint, and sinew. We saw a staircase. I stepped to the 
table, and took one of the candles, four feet in length, which 



maUISITION AT MADRID. 3 

was burning, that I might explore what was before us ; as 
I was doing this, I was arrested by one of the inquisitors, 
who laid his hand gently on my arm, and with a very de- 
mure and holy look, said, "My son, you must not take that 
with your profane and bloody hand ; it is holy." " Well, 
well," I said, " I want something that is holy, to see if it 
will not shed light on iniquity : I will bear the responsi- 
bility." 

I took the candle, and proceeded down the staircase, 
when Ave entered a large room, called the Hall of Judgment. 
In the centre of it was a large block, and a chain fastened 
to it. On this they had been accustomed to place the ac- 
cused, chained to his seat. On one side of the room was an 
elevated seat, called the Throne of Judgment. This the 
inquisitor-general occupied, and on either side were seats 
less elevated, for the holy fathers when engaged in the sol- 
emn business of the Holy Inquisition. From this room we 
proceeded to the right, and obtained access to small cells, 
extending the entire length of the edifice ; and here what a 
sight met our eyes I How has the benevolent religion of 
Jesus been abused and slandered by its professed friends I 

These cells were places of solitary confinement, where 
the wretched objects of inquisitorial hate were confined year 
after year, till death released them from their sufferings, and 
there their bodies were suffered to remain until they were 
entirely decayed, and the rooms had become fit for others to 
occupy. To prevent this practice being offensive to those 
who occupied the Inquisition, there were flues or tubes ex- 
tending to the open air, sufficiently capacious to carry off the 
odor from those decaying bodies. In these cells we found 
the remains of some who had paid the debt of nature ; some 
of them had been dead apparently but a short time, while 
of others nothing remained but their bones, still chained to 
the floor of their dungeon. In others we found the living 
sufferer of every age and of both sexes, from the young man 
and maiden to those of threescore and ten years, all as naked 
as when they were bom into the world. Our soldiers im- 
mediately applied themselves to releasing these captives 
from their chains, stripped themselves in part of their own 
clothing to cover these wretched beings, and were exceed- 
ingly anxious to bring them up to the light of day. But 
aware of the danger, I insisted on their wants being sup- 



4 IXaUISITION AT MADRID. 

plied, and that they should be brought gradually to the 
light, as they could bear it. 

When we had explored these cells, and opened the prison 
doors of those who yet survived, we proceeded to explore 
another room on the left. Here we found the instruments 
of torture, of every kind which the ingenuity of men or dev- 
ils could invent. At the sight of them the fury of our sol- 
diers refused any longer to be restrained. They declared 
that every inquisitor, monk, and soldier of the establislunent 
deserved to be put to the torture. We did not attempt any 
longer to restrain them. They commenced at once the 
work of torture with the holy fathers. I remained till I 
saw four different kinds of torture appHed, and then retired 
from the awful scene, wliich terminated not while one indi- 
■vadual remained of the former guilty inmates of this ante- 
chamber of hell, on whom they could wreak revenge. As 
soon as the poor sufferers from the cells of the Inquisition 
could with safety be brought out of their prison to the light 
of day, news having been spread far and near that numbers 
had been rescued from the Inquisition, all who had been 
deprived of friends by the holy office came to inquire if 
theirs were among the number. 

0, what meeting was there I about a hundred who had 
been buried alive for many years, were now restored to the 
active \vorld, and many of them found here a son and there 
a daughter, here a sister and there a brother, and some, alas, 
could recognize no friends. The scene was such a one as 
no tongue can describe. AYhen this work of recognition was 
over, to complete the business in which I had engaged, I 
went to Madrid and obtained a large quantity of gunpowder, 
which I placed underneath the edifice and in its vaults, 
and as we applied the slow-match there was a joyful sight 
to thousands of admiring eyes. 0, it Avould have done your 
heart good to see it ; the walls and massive turrets of that 
proud edifice were raised towards the heavens, and the In- 
quisition of Madrid was no more. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 461. 

THE 

MISSIONARY'S FATHER. 

A LETTER FROM REV. WILLIAM GOODELL. 



Constantinople, August 18, 1843. 

My dear Brother — The intelligence contained in your 
letter was not unexpected. Our father had attained to a 
great age, lacking only five days of being eighty-six years 
old. He was full of days, but more full of faith and of the 
Holy Ghost. How long he had " borne the image of the 
earthly" before he was renewed in the spirit of his mind, I 
know not ; but I know he had long borne " the image of 
the heavenly." 

Though I can look back some forty-five years or more, I 
cannot look back to the year when he was not living a life of 
faith, and prayer, and self-denial — of deadness to the world, 
and of close walk with God. This was the more remarkable, 
as in the church, of which in those days he was a mem- 
ber, there was scarcely one individual who could fully sym- 
pathize with him in his religious views. Those great evan- 
gelical doctrines of the Gospel, which his own minister never 
preached, and his own church never adopted into her creed, 
were his meat and drink. " The raven, though an unclean 
bird, brought food to Elijah,'" was a common expression of 
his on retummg from church, where he had been able to 
pick out of much chaff a few crumbs of the bread of life. 
His privileges were few ; prayer-meetmgs were unknown ; 
the sum. total, or about the sum total of his library, was the 
family Bible, one copy of Watts' Psalms and Hymns, Dod- 
dridge's Rise and Progress, Pike's Cases of Conscience, the 
second volume of Fox's Book of Martyrs, and the Assem- 
bly's Catechism. 

But though his means of grace were thus limited, yet, 
meditating day and night on God's law, his roots struck 
deep ; and he was like a tree planted by the rivers of water, 
whose leaf is always green, and whose fruit is always abun- 
dant. Whoever saw him riding on horseback would, if he 
kept himself concealed, be almost sure to see him engaged 



2 THE MISSIONARY'S FATHER. 

in prayer. AYlioever should work with him in seed-time or 
harvest, would find his thoughts as actively employed above, 
as his hands were below. Whoever of the Lord's people 
met him, by day or by night, at home or abroad, alone or in 
company, would find him ready to sit down with them in 
heavenly places, in order to comprehend " what is the length, 
and breadth, and depth, and height" of the love of Christ. 

Being the youngest of the family, you can have but an 
indistinct recollection of the small house on the side of the 
hill, containing two small rooms and a garret, floored with 
loose and rough boards, where twelve of us were born ; and 
of the small clump of apple-trees before the door, where 
your elder brothers and sisters played in the days of their 
thoughtless childhood. There, with no lock to any door, 
and no key to any trunk, or drawer, or cupboard ; there, 
where, as I am told, nothing now remains but an old cellar, 
which may even itself, long before this, have been filled up ; 
there our godly father prayed for us with all prayer and 
supphcation in the Spirit ; there, on every Sabbath-eve, he 
asked us those solemn, important, and all-comprehensive 
questions from the Catechism ; and there, with eyes and 
heart raised to heaven, we used to sing to the tune of old 
Rochester, 

" God, my supporter and my hope, 
My help for ever near ; 
Thine ami of mercy held me up. 
When sinking in despair." 

And there, too, our mother, of precious memory, though, as 
she died when you were but six months old, you remember 
her not — there she lived a life of poverty, patience, meek- 
ness, and faith. There she used to sit and card her wool 
by the light of the pine knot, and sing to us those sweet 
words', 

" Hov'ring among the leaves, there stands 
The sweet celestial Dove ; 
And Jesus on the branches hangs 
The banner of his love." 

And there, too, almost thirty-fbur years ago, we assembled 
early one morning in her little bed-room to see her die. Her 
peace was like a river ; she was full of triumph ; and she 
was able to address to us words of heavenly consolation till 



THE MISSIONARY'S FATHER. 3 

she had actually crossed over into shallow water withhi one 
minute of the opposite banks of the Jordan — heaven and all 
its glorie?, full in view. Precious woman, " Were ^ny chil- 
dren hut pious,'' thou didst often say in thy last long sick- 
ness, " hoiv cheerfully could Heave them, and go aivayT 
But what thine eyes were not permitted to behold, have not 
the angels long since told thee — that the eight children thou 
didst leave behind, with all, or all but one of their partners, 
were partakers of that blessed Gospel "which was all thy 
salvation, and all thy desire ;" and that three of thy sons 
were engaged in proclaiming it to others ? Yes, God hath 
heard thy prayers, and "hath remembered his holy cove- 
nant," as we are all witnesses this day. 

But before I close, I must say something more of the 
early habits and character of our venerable father. The 
little farm he once possessed, if it were not all 'ploughed 
over, was, I am confident, almost every foot of it prayed 
over. And some dried apples from it, which a subsequent 
owner sent me a few years since, were to me " as the smell 
of a field which the Lord hath blessed." He was full of the 
millennium and of the missionary spirit, long before the ex- 
istence of the present missionary societies ; praying daily for 
both Jews and Gentiles — saying with the Psalmist, " Let 
the people praise thee, God ; let the people praise thee, 
all of them" — and like his uncle Solomon Goodell, was 
ready and desirous to contribute something for the spread 
of the glorious Gospel long before he had an opportunity 
for so doing. 

He served three years in the revolutionaiy war ; and I 
was struck with the fact you communicated of its being 
early on the morning of the memorable 4th of July, amidst 
the roaring of cannon, that he slept in peace. And though 
to his children he left no inheritance, no, not so much as 
one cent, yet, in his godly example and prayers, he has left 
them the very richest legacy which any father ever be- 
queathed his children. 

It is a rare privilege we have all enjoyed in being de- 
scended from such parents. They were the children of the 
great King. They belonged to the royal family. Their 
names were on the catalogue of princes, and of those that 
live for ever. They daily walked abroad with the conscious 
dignity of heirs to a great estate, even an incorruptible in- 



4 THE MISSIONARY'S FATHER. 

heritance. And they have now gone to sit down with 
Christ on his throne. "And they shall hunger no more, 
neither shall they thirst any more." I love to look back 
and see how, with no ambitious aspirings after worldly gain, 
or pleasure, or honor, they humbly walked with God ; how 
from day to day they deliberately sought, both for them- 
selves and for their children, first of all, " the kingdom of 
God and his righteousness ;" and how in this scoffing world 
they were so united to Christ as apparently to have no sep- 
arate mterest or existence — it not being so much "they that 
lived, as Christ living in them." 

It was doubtless a m.ercy to them, that they never at 
any time possessed much of this world's goods, and were at 
times reduced to great straits ; and a mercy to us, that we 
had to bear the yoke in our youth, and often to make our 
meal of salt and potatoes ; and I have often found it in my 
heart to bless God for all his dealings with them and with 
us. And why should we be anxious to leave our children 
any other inheritance than was left to us ? If we leave 
them this, and they avail themselves of it, then, though we 
be dead, they shall still have a Father who will provide for 
them, and take care of them, and bless them, and make 
them happy for ever. 

And is our father gone, who prayed for us so much ? 
Let us be thankful that the great Intercessor ''ever liveth to 
make intercession for us ;" and more than ever, let us avail 
ourselves of his mediation and atonement, of his grace and 
strength, and of his righteousness and Spirit ; and more than 
ever, let us now pray for ourselves and for all our brothers 
and sisters. And is our father dead ? Let us arise and 
give thanks to God, that good men niay die. Let us give 
special thanks that our father and mother are no longer in 
this world of sin and sorrow. And let us be more careful 
than ever to "be followers of those who, through faith and 
patience, are now inheriting the promises," being sinners 
saved by grace alone. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETV. 



No. 46^. 

SINNEKS \YELCOME 

TO 

COME TO JESUS CHRIST 

BY REY. A. ALEXAIS-DER, D. D. 



Our blessed Lord knew how prone convinced sinners 
are to unbelief, as it regards the reception which he is 
disposed to give them if they come to him ; and there- 
fore he graciously uttered, and has left on record this 
precious encouragement, " Him that cometh unto me 
I WILL IN NO WISE CAST OUT." No, thougli your sins are 
very great the kind Redeemer will not cast you out : 
even if that were true which you sometimes think, that 
you are the greatest sinner who ever lived upon earth, 
he will not cast you out. " His blood cleanseth from all 
sin." It is as easy for him to save a great as a small sin- 
ner. No one was ever saved because his sins were small ; 
no one was ever rejected on account of the greatness of 
his sins. Where sin abounded, grace shall much more 
abound. If your guilt is very enormous the gi'eater ho- 
nor will redound to that Deliverer who plucks such a 
brand from the burning. *' Though your sins be as scar- 
let, they shall be white as snow ; though they be red like 
crimson, they shall be as wool." 

But is there not one sin which never has pardon, nei- 
ther in this world nor in that which is to come ] There 
is, but no one who has committed that sin ever desires 
to come to Christ ; and even that sin would not be un- 
pardonable if the sinner who is burdened with its guilt, 
should come to Him. It is not unpardonable because the 
blood of Christ has not adequate efficacy to remove it ; 
but because the miserable blasphemer is abandoned by 
VOL. XI. 35 



2 alNNERS WELCOME TO 

t]ie Spirit of God to IiIg own malignity, and therefore ne- 
ver does nor can desire to believe on Christ, 

Christ will not cast you off because you have long con- 
tinued to sin against God, though it be even to gi'ay hairs 
and the decrepitude of old age. It is indeed a wicked 
thing to continue one day in rebellion against the King 
of heaven; and no one can calculate the debt of guilt in- 
curred by spending a long life in continued acts of trans- 
gression. That you deserve a deep place in hell cannot 
be doubted; for every sin deserveth God's wrath and 
curse, and the punishment due is always proportioned to 
the number and heinousness of our sins. That God should 
have spared you fcr so many years whilst you were sin- 
ning against him, is indeed a wonderful instance of long- 
suffering and forbearance. Long life is not eventually a 
benefit to those who die unreconciled to God. They only 
live "to heap up wrath against the day of wrath." But 
how^ever long you may have continued in rebellion, and 
however black and long the catalogue of your sins, yet 
if you will now lurn to God by a sincere repentance, and 
believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you shall not be cast 
out. He that cannot lie hath declared, " Him that com- 
eth unto me I wdll in no wdse cast out." 

I heard a preacher declare fi'om the pulpit, that there 
was no example in the Bible of any one being converted 
in old age; but he was undoubtedly under a mistake. 
Was not Manasseh, one of the wickedest men who ever 
lived, brought to repentance in old age ] The ages of 
those converted on the day of Pentecost, and at other 
times, are not given. It is enough for us to know that 
the aged no more than the young are excluded from the 
free invitations of the blessed Savior. He invites all the 
laboring and heavy-laden, and of course those who are 
burdened with the infirmities of declining years, as well 
as of unnumbered sins. 

Aged sinner, you are not excluded from mercy by any 



COME TO JESUS CHRIST. 3 

word of God in the whole book of divine revelation. 
God has set before you an o-pen door, which no man has 
a right or power to shut. If you should be shut out it will 
be by your own unbelief, and not for want of a warrant 
to come. Enter then, without delay or hesitation. None 
can less afford to delay than the aged sinner. Now is the 
time. Now or never. You have, as it were, one foot al- 
ready in the gi'ave. Your opportunities will soon be over. 
Strive then, I entreat you, to enter in at the strait gate. 

But do you ask whether a man may not outlive his 
day of grace, and. be given over to judicial blindness be- 
fore life is ended. Undoubtedly he may ; but, as I said be- 
fore, such an one I believe is never found inquiring what 
he must do to be saved. The Devil often tempts aged 
sinners, and others too, to believe that it is now too late 
for them to repent ; that the time of their visitation is 
gone by, and that there is no hope for them. And many 
miserable souls are long held entangled in this snare. He 
may even quote Scripture to prove that there is a boun- 
dary which, when passed, all hope of salvation is to be 
relinquished. But as long as we are in the body we have 
the overtures of mercy made to us by the authority of 
God, and whether we be young or old, " he that com- 
eth," Christ has declared, shall not be cast out. Take 
him at his word. Venture on him. If you stay away 
you must perish ; and you can but perish if you go. But 
see ! the golden sceptre is held out. This affords full as- 
surance that if you draw near and touch it you shall live. 

Some are convinced that there is salvation in no other 
but in Christ the Lord, yet they hesitate to come, because 
they feel themselves to he so vile and unworthy. They can- 
not be persuaded that so gi'eat and holy a being as the 
Son of God will look with favor on creatures so abomina- 
bly polluted and stained with iniquity. Such feelings as 
these very naturally arise in the minds of persons made 
sensible of the sinful defilement of their nature ; but tliey 



4 SINNERS WELCOME TO 

are most unreasonable, when we take into view the cha- 
racter of Jesus Christ, and the errand on which he came 
into the world. If he had become incarnate, and had 
died on the cross only for the benefit of the pure and 
righteous, then this excuse for not coming to him would 
have some validity ; but when we know that he bears the 
character of a Savior of sinners, and that his name was 
called Jesus by the angel who announced his birth, be- 
cause he should save his people from their sins : when 
we consider his repeated declaration, that he came to 
seek and save the lost ; not to call the righteous, but 
sinners to repentance ; and that he exhibits himself as the 
Physician, not of the whole, but the sick, we must pro- 
nounce this objection most unreasonable. 

If you were not a sinful, polluted, helpless and mise- 
rable creature, this Savior would not be suited to you, 
and you would not be comprehended in his gi'acious in- 
vitations to the children of men. But the deeper you are 
sunk in sin and misery the greater reason you have for 
coming to one who is able to save to the uttermost all 
that come unto God by him. If you were covered with 
leprosy, and a fountain was opened for washing away 
every sort of uncleanness, would you stay away be- 
cause you were so polluted ? Or if deadly sick, would 
you refuse to apply to the physician 1 The awakened, 
convinced sinner is the very one to whom Jesus espe- 
cially directs his attention. And it is a preposterous thing 
for such to delay coming, under the delusive hoj^e of 
making themselves fit. This they never can do, and if 
tliey could they would not need a Savior. What, will you 
VN ash yourselves in a muddy pool to prepare for being 
cleansed in a pure fountain ] 

But some one may be ready to say, ** All admit that 
none ever come to Christ until they experience conviction 
of sin, but I liavc 7io conviction, or none worth mention- 
ing. My mind is so blind that I can perceive nothing 



COME TO JESUS CIIUIST. 5 

clearly, and my heart is so hard that what I do see to Le 
true I cannot feel. O if I could experience some tender 
relenting — if I could get this adamant heart broken into 
contrition — if I could even feel pungent pain or alarm 
on account of my sins, my case would not appear so hope- 
less. But how can I come to Christ with this blind and 
stupid heart ]" 

Now, my friend, I beg you to consider that this blind- 
ness and unyielding hardness is the very core of your ini- 
quity ; and to be convinced that you are thus blind and 
stupid is true conviction of sin. If you had those feel- 
insfs which you so much covet thev would not answer the 
end of conviction, which is to show you how sinful and 
helpless your condition is. But if you felt as you wish to 
feel, you would not think your heart so wicked as you 
now see it to be. And the truth is, that you are now in 
a better situation to come to Christ than you would be 
if you had less conviction of the hardness and stubborn- 
ness of your heart. The use of conviction is to show your 
need of a Savior, and to set clearly before your mind 
your utterly helpless and hopeless condition in yourself, 
and that a holy God would be perfectly just in leaving 
you to your own fruitless efforts, and in punishing you 
for ever for your sins. 

" Let not conscience make you linger, 

" Nor of fitness fondly dream ; 
" All the fitness he requireth 

"Is to feel your need of him." 

Take words, therefore, and go immediately and fall 
down before him, and say, " Against thee, thee only 
have I sinned and done this evil in thy sight, that thou 
mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear 
when thou judgest." Confess the righteousness of the 
sentence which condemns you, and accept the punish- 
ment of your sins as just. Cry with Peter, when sinking 

VOL. XI. 35* 



6 SINNERS WELCOxME TO 

in the sea, " Lord, save — 1 perish." Or with the blind 
man, " O thou Son of David, have mercy on me !" Or 
with the Syrophenician woman, " Lord, help me." Or 
with the penitent publican, " God be merciful to mc a 
sinner!" Say, like the royal penitent, 

'* My lips with shame my sins confess 
" Against tliy law, against thy grace. 
" Lord, should thy judgment grow severe, 
" I am condemned, but thou art clear. 

" Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord, 
" \Vhose hope, still hovering round thy word, 
" Would light on some sweet promise there, 
" Some sure support against despair." 

But here is another poor soul, more bowed down than 
any which we have considered. It is an aivakened hack- 
slider. This man verily thought that he was a true chris- 
tian, and under that impression applied for admittance 
into the church, and was received, and for a season seem- 
ed to run well ; but by the snares and baits of the world, 
and the deceitfulness of riches, and insidious lusts of the 
flesh, and the pride of life, was, by degrees, seduced from 
the paths of piety. After a while the profession of reli- 
gion was laid aside as an inconvenient thing, since which 
time, until lately, he has been sinking deeper and deeper 
into the spirit of the world which lies In wickedness. But 
recently, by a sore visitation of affliction, his conscience 
has been awakened to a consideration of his woful state. 
And he inquires with the most earnest solicitude, whe- 
ther there is any ground of hope for such a backslider, 
who has sinned much more egregiously since he made a 
profession of religion than he ever did before. Now to 
Buch an one I feel authorized to say, Christ invites even 
backsliders, like you, to come and be saved. 1 find no 
clause excluding the returning backslider, guilty as lie is 
m the sight of God. He says in regard to this man, as 



COME TO JESUS CHRIST. 7 

well as others, " Him that cometh unto me I will in no 
wise cast out." 

There is indeed mention made in Scripture of some 
backsliders who turn back unto perdition, and never can 
be renewed again unto repentance : theze never come to 
Christ, and never tiiily desire to com.3. For them nothing 
remains " but a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery 
indignation to devour the adversaries." 

But we read in Jeremiah of the Lord calling upon his 
backsliding Israel to return, J&r. 3 : )2; and in Hosea, 
God says, " I will heal their backsliding, I will love 
them fi'eely." Hos. 14 : 4. This !.« a most gracious and 
encouraging promise, and we fmd, in fact, that God has 
received great backsliders upon their r^epentance, and 
nas freely pardoned their enormoufs sins. I believe that 
•ihe deplorable backsliding of David, and his subsequent 
pardon and restoration, were left on. record, that con- 
vinced backsliders might not despair of mercy. And our 
Lord intimates that Peter, when recovered from his 
shameful fall, should make it his business " to strensfthen 
his brethren." Some of this class m.ay perhaps allege 
that they are afraid that they never were truly of the 
number of the Israel of God. That perhaps is a question 
which you will never be able to solve in this life. But as 
to the point in hand it matters not, if you will now come 
to Christ you will be received. Come, and he will in no 
wise cast you out. 

It is commonly said that men are forward to believe 
whatever is connected with their own interest. This in 
common cases is true; but it is also true, that when some 
very great and unexpected good news is brought to us, 
we find it very difficult to credit it. It seems too good to 
he true. When Jacob's sons returned to their father after 
Joseph had made himself knovvn to them, and informed 
him that his son Joseph was alive and governor of all 
Egypt, the old man could not believe the report until he 



3 SINNERS WELCOME TO 

lifted up his eyes and saw the wagons which had been 
sent to convey him to Egypt. So the convinced sinner 
finds it very hard to believe that a free and full salvation 
is offered to him, and that Christ stands ready to receive 
him, and not only to pardon all his sins, but give him a 
sure title to the heavenly inheritance. It seems a thing 
almost impossible that he should be thus highly favored, 
and therefore, when he should with humble confidence 
lay hold on eternal life, he stands parleying, hesitating, 
and demurring. He is prone to think that there must be 
some mistake in the business, and that this good news 
cannot be true, at least in relation to himself But when 
the tiTith stands out clearly revealed, he begins to under- 
stand what he never did before, the absolute and perfect 
freeness of salvation ; and how it is that Christ receives 
the coming sinner just as he is, in all his guilt and vile- 
ness. Then, indeed, he cannot but rejoice and wonder at 
the suitableness of the plan of salvation to his character 
and necessities ; that it comes down to his \vretched and 
helpless circumstances, and takes him out of the hoiTible 
pit and the miry clay, and sets his feet on a rock, esta- 
blishes his goings, and puts a new song into his mouth, 
even praise unto God. 

Since awakened, convicted sinners are so prone to un- 
belief on this point, it will not be a superfluous labor to 
offer SOME coGExNT REASONS to convince such that Christ 
will not cast off any who come to him, whatever may have 
been their former character or sins. 

And I would first mention, that all who come are drawn 
by the Father. " No man," says Christ, " can come unto 
me except the Father which sent me draw him." Those 
vvlio do truly come are such as were given to him by the 
Father. ** All that the Father giveth me shall come to 
me." Now this drawing of the Father is the fruit of his 
everlasting love. ** We love him, because he first loved 



COME TO JESUS CHRIST. 9 

US." And surely Christ will not cast out those whom the 
Father has loved and given to him, and effectually drawn 
by his grace. 

But you may be ready to reply, " How shall I know 
that I am of the number given by the Father to the Son V 
I answer, that you need no other or better evidence of it 
than your being willing to come. Surely you know that 
you did not make yourself willing. If you have come 
to Christ, or are willing to come, I am sure that you will 
ascribe it entirely to the grace of God. Others, as good 
by nature and practice as you, remain in love with the 
world and under the power of sin. Why is this 1 You 
must say with Paul, " By the grace of God I am what I 
am." The choice did not commence with you, but with 
him. " Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you." 
And as Christ concurs with the Father in this drawing-, for 
he says, *' and I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto 
me," he surely will not cast out the poor penitent whom 
he has drawn to his feet. No, no — never. " Him that 
cometh he will in no wise cast out." 

Again, Christ redec7?ied, hy the shedding of his precious 
hlood, every soul that comes to him, and the impellino- 
motive which induced him to die for sinners was love — 
unspeakable love : " who loved us and gave himself for 
us." Can any one then think, or suspect, that when Christ 
sees the travail of his soul coming to him, he will cast 
them out ] It would be like blasphemy to say that he 
would. No, he delights to see the fruit of his painful suf- 
ferings even unto death. It was predicted, in connection 
with the imj3ressive description of his sufferings and 
death, that he should " see the travail of his soul and 
be satisfied." 

Again, the Holy Spirit is the agent in convincing men 
of sin and bringing them to Christ; and this Holy Spirit 
is sent by the Son as well as the Father to accomplish 
this work; and when it is effected, when the soul is made 



10 SINNERS WELCOME TO 

willing to bow his neck to the easy yoke of Christ, will 
he cast him out ] Impossible. 

But tlie honor and glory of the Redeemer is concerned 
in this matter. God is not glorified in any transaction 
upon earth so much as in the conversion of a sinner. 
There is joy in heaven at the repentance of one sinner 
more than over ninety and nine just persons who need 
no repentance. And every redeemed and renewed soul 
is a jewel in the mediatorial crown. 

We may learn the willingness of Jesus Christ to re- 
ceive sinners, not only by his frequent gracious declara- 
tions, but by Ills conduct in regard to such as applied to 
him. Christ's personal ministry was confined to the peo- 
ple of Israel, and when he sent out the twelve, and after- 
wards the seventy, their commission was restricted within 
the same limits. Yet when a woman of Canaan came to 
implore his aid he did not reject her, though she was de- 
scended from an accursed race. At first, indeed, he seem- 
ed to give her a repulse, but it was intended only to bring 
more clearly to view the strength of her faith. And his 
address to her in the end is truly remarkable, " O woman, 
great is thy faith ; be it unto thee as thou wilt." And 
when the centurion, another pagan, applied to him to 
come and heal his child, he did not reject his suit because 
he was a heathen, but said of him, ** Verily, I have not 
found so great faith, no, not in Israel." 

When the vilest sinners, as publicans and harlots, came 
penitently to his feet, he rejected none of them, although 
his gracious attention to such greatly injured his reputa- 
tion in the view of the scribes and j^harisees. His conde- 
scending behavior toward that woman who was notorious 
as a sinner is in the highest degree touching. He was 
dining in the house of a pharisee, and this infamous but 
penitent woman, urged by the strength of her feelings, 
found her way into the house, and while he w^as reclin- 
ing on a couch at dinner, she came up behind him and 



COME TO JESUS CHRIST H 

wept such a flood of tears on his feet, that she is said to 
have washed his feet with her tears and wiped them 
with the hairs of her head. This led the pharisee to en- 
tertain a suspicion that Christ could not be a teacher sent 
from God, or he would have known the infamous charac- 
ter of this woman. Jesus knowing his thoughts, uttered 
the beautiful parable of the two debtors, and then making 
the application to the case of the penitent woman, said, 
*' Wherefore I say unto you, her sins, which are many, 
are forgiven." 

When our blessed Lord was hanging on the cross he 
was applied to by one of the malefactors, crucified with 
liim. This man being one of the two selected from all 
the prisoners in Jerusalem for public execution on this 
occasion, was, no doubt, deeply stained with the guilt of 
enormous crimes ; but was his suit denied 1 O no — the 
response was full of mercy : " This day shalt thou be 
with me in paradise." Who can fathom the freeness and 
riches of the grace of Christ ] It is indeed " unsearchable 
riches." 

Paul may with propriety be here introduced. Accord- 
ing to his own acknowledgment he was a murderer and 
a blasphemer, but he obtained mercy, and was made an 
apostle, a chief instrument in propagating that Gospel 
which he once attempted to destroy, among the Gentiles. 
Many of the first converts from among the heathen were 
notorious for the foulest and vilest crimes, for the apostle 
in writing to the Corinthians, after giving a black list of 
crimes which exclude the persons guilty of them from 
the kingdom Df heaven, says, " And such wore some of 
you ; but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are 
justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit 
of our God." 

But perhaps no example of the extent of divine mer- 
cy, and its sovereign freedom, can equal the pardon ex- 
tended to the very persons who had imbrued their hands 



12 SINNERS WELCOME TO 

in Christ's own blood. The blood which they shed pro 
cured their salvation. And Christ seems to have had spe- 
cial compassion for the bloody city of Jerusalem. Before 
his death he we2>t over it and lamented its doom ; and 
after his resurrection, when he met his disciples in a bo- 
dy, he gave direction that " repentance and remission of 
sins should be preached in his name among all nations, 
beginning at Jcrusalem.^^ Accordingly, on the day of Pen- 
tecost, Peter charges the sin of crucifying the Lord Jesus 
upon the consciences of those whom he addressed, say- 
ing, " Therefore let all the house of Israel know assured- 
ly, that God hath made that same Jesus whom ye have 
crucified, both Lord and Christ. Now when they heard 
this they were pricked in their heart, and said unto Peter 
and the rest of the apostles. Men and brethren, what shall 
we do ]" Did Peter tell them that as they had committed 
this enormous crime Christ would not pardon them ] By 
no means. He calls upon them to repent and be bap- 
tized for the remission of sins. And these greatest of sin- 
ners were that very day received into the church, and 
continued steadfast in their attachment to Christ and pro- 
fession of his name. 

Innumerable instances since that day have occurred 
of the repentance of the greatest sinners, and no true 
penitent has ever been rejected. If one instance could be 
produced of any sinner being rejected who ever came to 
Christ, this might create some doubt in the soul agonized 
with a sense of guilt. But as there is no such example, 
the trembling sinner, feeling that he is justly exposed to 
the wrath of God, need not hesitate nor delay to come al 
once to Christ, with the assurance that however vile and 
guilty he may be, he shall meet a welcome reception. O 
sinner, you are welcome to come to Jesus Christ. 

All difficulty as to Clirist's willingness to receive re- 
turning sinners being, as it is hoped, removed, the only 



COME TO JESUS CHRIST. 13 

thing which remains to be considered is, what is to be 
UxVDERSTOOD BY COMING TO CHRIST, and what are the steps 
which the sinner must take to come. It is too obvious to 
need any remark, that a mere bodily approach is not the 
thing intended. Many of Christ's bitterest enemies were 
often near his person, as Judas when he betrayed him witl) 
a kiss ; the soldiers that bound him, that smote him, that; 
scourged him, that nailed him to the cross ; but this kind 
of approach to Christ did those who came near him no 
good. The coming to Christ, of which we have been 
treating, is tlie act of the anxious mwA which seeks salva- 
tion fr 0711 the burden of siii, and apprehending that Christ 
is fhe only Redee?ner, trusts in him. Christ is exhibited 
in the Gospel as the only Mediator by whom we can be 
reconciled to God, and offers to do for the sinner what- 
ever is requisite to save him from the curse of the law, 
and from the blindness and pollution of sin itself; and 
coming to him is the same as receiving him in that cha- 
racter, or as sustaining those offices which relate to 
salvation. 

There is but one step to be taken, stiictly speaking, in 
coming to Christ, and that is believing in him with all the 
heart. We are not required to repent and do good works 
before we come, but to come to him to give us repent- 
ance unto life, and to create us anew to good works. 
But though the act of coming is a single act, yet there 
are some things which are experienced before this act can 
be rationally performed. No unawakened, careless sin- 
ner, remaining in that state, will come, for the ** whole 
need not a physician, but they that are sick." The sin- 
ner who knows nothing of Christ as he is revealed in the 
Scriptures, cannot come until he is instructed in regard to 
the character of Christ. Faith therefore comes by hear- 
ing the word. A soul perverted by erroneous opinions 
respecting the fundamental doctrines of religion, cannot 
come until he is delivered from these errors. That man 

VOL. XI. 36 



11 SINNERS WELCOiME TO 

who believes Christ to be the promised Messiah, but 
ihinks that he is no more than a good man and a projDhet, 
cannot come to Christ until this fundamental error be re- 
moved. The soul that truly comes to Christ must be per- 
suaded that he is indeed the Son of God, and possessed 
of divine perfections. 

The soul convinced of its sins first seeks Christ as he 
is an atoning Priest. That which it wants is the pardon 
of sin, and reconciliation with an offended God. Christ, 
as the great High Priest, has offered up himself as an 
atoning sacrifice for sin ; and as a priest he has entered 
into the holy place made without hands, there to sprin- 
kle, as it were, his life-srivins: blood, and to intercede for 
all who come unto him. When in this character he is ajD- 
prehended by the seeking sinner, confidence in him is 
produced. It is seen now how God can be just and yet 
the justifier of the ungodly who believes in Christ. It is 
seen that God having accepted Christ's atoning sacrifice, 
can receive the guilty sinner into favor and adopt the re- 
bel as a child. These views, accompanied by this trust in 
the Lord Jesus as having made a complete atonement for 
our sins, is the act of coming to Christ. But as the soul 
that is regenerated feels sin itself to be a burden, it looks 
to Christ for a deliverance from all the disorders of the 
depraved mind. He is therefore received and trusted, to 
deliver the soul from the deep stains of iniquity, and by 
the light of his truth to guide it in the right way. 

Let it be remembered that this coming to Christ is not 
a solitary act of the believing soul ; it is one which must 
be continually repeated. The justified sinner is every 
moment dependent on his Savior, without whom ho can 
do nothing. As he is at first justified by faith, so he lives 
by faith, walks by faith, and by faith overcomes all his 
enemies, and brings forth the fruits of holiness and 
peace. 

V>\\\ some will be rendv to sav, " There is no cominsr 



COME TO JESUS CHRIST. 15 

to Christ unless we are drawn, and why then are we 
blamed for not coming]" 

This is not the language of the truly convinced sinner, 
for he sees and feels that he is guilty of the damning sin 
of unbelief, and that he deserves to be jDunished for this 
sin above all others ; for it is this which seals the guilt of 
all others upon his soul. Dead in sin, it is certain that he 
will perform no holy action, but he is still a rational and 
accountable being. The law of God does not lose its au- 
thority to command because we have become sinful. It 
will never do to plead sin as an excuse for sin, or to 
attempt to justify sinful acts by pleading that we have 
an evil heart. This instead of being a valid apology, is 
the very ground of our condemnation. If you feel that 
your heart is thus blinded and de2:)raved, this conviction 
of your miserable, sinful state, should humble you deep- 
ly in the dust, and induce you to cry more earnestly to 
God for his life-giving Spirit. Often, however, when 
Christ sends forth his gracious invitation to believe, he 
enables the soul by the energy of his Spirit accompany- 
ing the call to come and receive his grace. He accom- 
panies his word with a quickening efficacy, and " the 
dead hear the voice of the Son of God and live." Our 
whole dependence is on the influence of the Holy Spirit. 
** Paul may plant and Aj^ollos water, but God giveth the 
increase." 

Let us now review the truths which have been in- 
culcated : ' 

1. Christ is an able and willing Savior, who will in no 
wise cast out any soul that comes to him. 

2. The grace of God, through Christ, is perfectly free ; 
that is, he requires no qualification or merit in those who 
come. They are invited to apply to him in all their guilt 
and pollution, that they may from his gracious hands re- 
ceive pardon and renovation. 



16 SINNERS WELCOME TO JESUS CHRIST. 

3. There is no obstacle in the way of any sinner's com 
ing but what exists in himself. The door of mercy cannot 
be set wider open than it is ; the invitations of Christ could 
not be more kind and full. 

4. The whole blame of the sinner's ruin who refuses 
to come to Christ, will lie at his owm door. The only ob- 
stacle is his own perverseness and unwillingness. Christ 
was willing to give life to his greatest enemies if they 
would come to him ; for he complains, " ye will not come 
unto me that ye may have life." 

o. The conversion of a single soul is the work of God 
only. The same power which caused light to shine out of 
darkness, must shine into our hearts. Creation is a work 
proper to God only, but conversion is a " new creation," 
and requires power as really divine as that by which the 
worlds were formed. 

6. God has directed the GosjdoI to be preached to every 
creature without discrimination ; and every one who hears 
it has a divine warrant to receive it ; and if he does, he 
has the faithfulness of God pledged for his everlasting 
salvation. 

7. As the efficacy of the word depends on the energy of 
the Holy Spirit, all christians should be incessant and fer- 
vent in their supplications for this Spirit of gi'ace to be 
poured out, that sinners may be converted. 

8. We have encouragement to hope that the time is 
coming, and perhaps drawing near, when conversions 
will be multiplied far beyond the experience of former 
ages ; when the Jews shall, as ^ nation, obtain mercy of 
the Lord, and when all the kingdoms of this world shall 
become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ. 
"Even so come, Lord Jesus !" Amen. 



THE END. 



]\o. 463. 

THE 



MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE, 



The candid and careful observer of human nature, as 
recorded in history, or as daily presented to the eye, Avill not 
fail to meet with events of such thrilling interest as to need 
no aid of imagination to a'Cvaken the tenderest sympathies of 
our being. They may sometimes be of a painful, rather than 
romantic character ; but far better adapted surely, than any 
departures from truth, to enlarge the understanding, rectify 
the judgment, and improve the heart. 

The habit of dwelling on works of fiction, or yielding to 
the reveries of fancy, tends to dissipate and degrade the mind, 
to blunt the moral powers, to excite the desire of forbidden 
pleasures, and to create discontent with the arrangements of 
Heaven. But the study of human nature, as exhibited in 
real life, in the history of the world, and in revealed truth, 
may lead instrumentally to that heavenly wisdom, which is 
indispensable to happiness here, as well as in that higher 
state of being for which this is designed as a preparation. 
And it is always peculiarly interesting and instructive to trace 
the means employed by the unseen One, in forming charac- 
ters distinguished for usefulness, and in accomplishing the 
most important events. Considered in this light, some inci- 
dents in the history of Monica and her son Augustine are 
quite remarkable. 

She was born in Tagasta, a city of Numidia, about three 
hundred and thirty years after Christ. Her parents moved 
in the more elevated walks of life, and were professedly 
Christian. They were assiduous in procuring for their daugh- 
ter the accomplishments befitting their rank ; but for that 
VOL. XI. 36* 



2 MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 

part of her education which especially prepared her for the 
duties and trials of life, and distinguished her from the mill- 
ions whose memor}^ has perished, she was chiefly indebted 
to the instructions of a pious old nurse. 

In accordance with the customs of the country, and prob- 
ably without any reference to her wishes, she was, at a very 
early age, given in marriage to Patricius, a man of infidel 
sentiments and morose disposition. Though thus united, and 
during the first years of her married life most severely tried 
by neglect and insult, she seems never to have forgotten the 
peculiar relation and duties of a wife. She looked constantly 
to her divine Master for wisdom and strength ; and through 
the influence of her obedience, her piety, and her uniformly 
amiable deportment, she not merely gained the admiration 
of her husband, but was instrumental in turning him from 
his evil courses, and dark infidelity, to the love of heavenly 
truth. 

She spared no pains to instruct her little Augustine in 
the Christian religion, and win his tender heart to the Sav- 
iour. From his earliest years he was accustomed to daily 
prayer ; and at times appeared to engage in it with intelli- 
gence and delight. Affection for his mother seemed to be, 
as yet, the ruling principle of his heart ; and, ardent in his 
natural temperament, there was much in his childhood to 
gratify her fondest wishes. Still, in the progress of his open- 
ing mind she saw much to excite apprehension and alarm. 
She saw him gradually forming such habits as are often the 
ruin of the most intelligent youth. As he advanced towards 
manhood, her influence in checking his irregularities, and 
impressing his mind with religious sentiments, was daily les- 
sening. He became too much devoted to wild gratification, 
and too much enslaved to the vilest passions, to honor even 
the authority of a mother. But she had a deep sense of the 
infinite value of his soul, and therefore clung to him Avith 
untiring resolution ; and when human means seemed utterly 



MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 3 

powerless, she the more earnestly commended his case to 
Him who regardeth the desire of the humble. 

On one occasion, finding her son had embraced danger- 
ous errors, she earnestly entreated a certain bishop to reason 
him out of them. But though he was by no means disposed 
to evade such a task when there was any hope of success, 
yet now he entirely declined, saying, " Your son is too much 
elated at present, too much captivated with the novelty of 
his speculations, to listen to arguments. Be patient in duty ; 
continue to pray for him, and he will be brought to see his 
errors." But the heart of a mother crannot rest when she 
realizes that the salvation of her child is at stake. She per- 
sisted in her request with many tears. At last the worthy 
bishop, somewhat out of patience with her importunity, 
replied, " Leave me, good ivoman ; it is imioossible that the 
child of such ijrayers shoidd 'perish''' This answer im- 
pressed her, as if it had been a voice from heaven, with the 
conviction that it is good both to hope and quietly to wait 
for the salvation of the Lord ; and encouraged her to more 
humble perseverance at the throne of infinite mercy. Thus, 
with quenchless ardor, Monica sought the conversion of her 
son, even in the darkest hours of his apostasy. Augustine 
himself says, "While I was rolling in the pollution of sin, 
sometimes indeed attempting to rise, yet still sinking deeper 
and deeper, she persisted in prayer, and never ceased to 
hope." 

At the age of twenty- nine he determined to go to Rome. 
His mother resolved, if possible, to detain him ; or, if she 
could not do this, to accompany him. By falsehood and 
artifice, however, he persuaded her, on the night of his an- 
ticipated departure, to retire to rest. She spent its sleepless 
hours in earnest prayer that the calamity she so much feared 
might be averted. But the light of morning plunged her 
almost in despair. Augustine had fled ; the shores of Car- 
thage were fast receding from his view ; and his widowed 



4 MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 

mother might have been seen moaning, sohtary, on the 
strand. He says, in his Confessions, " I lied to my mother, 
and such a mother — and thus escaped." She returned to 
Carthage, feehng keenly the bitterness of that neglect — per- 
haps of all the most painful — the neglect of a tenderly be- 
loved son. Still, his ungrateful desertion only made her the 
more earnest for him at the throne of infinite love ; well 
knowing that Providence could so overrule this mysteriously 
afflictive event as to make it the very means of accomplish- 
ing the desire of her soul. 

In a few months he left Rome for Milan, where he was 
received with paternal kindness by the good St. Ambrose. 
Under his luminous expositions the pride and self-confidence 
of Augustine yielded ; and the light of conviction began to 
dawn on the thick darkness that had so long enshrouded his 
soul through the deceitfulness of sin. He now sought the 
truth with earnestness and docility ; and just at this period 
his mother arrived at Milan. He explained to her the state 
of his mind ; and doubtful as the case yet was, it lighted up 
her soul with fresh hope and more fervent zeal. Her pray- 
ers for him were more humble and importunate ; the flame 
of her devotion still more ardent ; and with full confidence 
in the covenanted faithfulness of Him who said to Abraham, 
" I will be a God to thee and to thy seed," she assured Au- 
gustine, that ere she departed this life she should see him a 
true believer. She attended constantly on the ministry of 
St. Ambrose, and became eminently distinguished among the 
pious of that church. And here, at length, she indeed had 
the unutterable satisfaction of seeing her son abandon all his 
gross errors, as well as dissolute habits ; cordially embracing 
the truth as it is in Jesus, and bringing forth fruit to his 
praise. 

Thus, through persevering prayer, and the clear exhibi- 
tions of sacred truth, accompanied by the power of the Holy 
Spirit, this man of pride, of sensuality, of unhallowed ambi- 



MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 5 

tion and supreme selfishness, was brought low in the dust 
of humiliation before God ; and, like Saul of Tarsus, was 
led to count all things but loss for the excellency of the 
knowledge of Christ. He now felt the absolute necessity, 
the infinite value of such a Sa\dour. He was filled with 
peace in believing ; and in the language of the psalmist, he 
delighted to pour forth thanksgivings to Him who had de- 
livered him from the dominion of sin. In the fulness of his 
joy, he exclaimed, " Lord, I am thy servant, I am thy ser- 
vant, and the son of thine handmaid ; thou hast loosed my 
bonds ; Lord, who is like unto thee ? I will offer to thee 
the sacrifice of praise continually." 

Having been admitted into the church, he resolved to 
return at once, with his mother, to Africa ; that the theatre 
of his former blindness, his follies, his crimes, and his pro- 
tracted impenitence, might witness the sincerity of his con- 
version and the omnipotent power of divine truth and grace ; 
and that he might proclaim to his own countrymen that 
Redeemer whom he had so ungratefully dishonored. 

But in the course of their journey, Monica died at Ostia, 
near the mouth of the Tiber, where they had stopped to rest 
and recruit for the voyage. A few days before her death, 
she and her son being alone, looking out of a window of most 
beautiful prospect, the conversation turned on the subUme 
realities of eternity. They endeavored to abstract their 
thoughts from the world and all its fleeting enjoyments, and 
to conceive themselves on the utmost verge of time. "If," 
said Augustine, in substance, "if the tumult of present things 
were to subside for ever ; if natural life were now to pause, 
and all its senses cease to be the medium of acquiring know- 
ledge ; and if, in this state, the revelations of the divine 
Majesty were to be made to us by immediate inspiration ; 
and were to continue for ever, engaging and absorbing the 
whole soul ; would not this be something like what is meant 
by entering into the joy of our Lord ? But," continued he. 



6 MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 

" when shall this be ? When shall we behold all this ? At that 
moment," saj's he, "the world and all its pleasures seemed 
to pass away from her affections, and she replied, Son, I 
have no more any desire to live ; what I should do any 
longer here I know not ; for I have nothing more to wish or 
hope for. One thing made me tenacious of life ; it was to 
witness your conversion. And this blessed boon Heaven has 
vouchsafed, more fully than I ever expected ; why then should 
I linger here ?" 

Scarcely five days had elapsed after this conversation 
before she was seized with a fever. She viewed approaching 
death, not merely with tranquillity, but with triumphant 
joy ; as a welcome messenger, calling her from scenes of trial 
and affliction to the immediate presence of that Saviour who 
had been her unfailing confidence and support. Her disease 
advanced so rapidly as very soon to deprive her of reason and 
render her speechless ; and on the ninth day of this illness, 
in the fifty-sixth year of her age, her emancipated spirit took 
its upward flight. 

In the tender affection of Monica, as a mother ; in her 
perseverance and enduring faith ; and in that Christian 
magnanimity which triumphed over every difficulty and sus- 
tained her under the severest afflictions, there was enough 
to shed a transcendent lustre over her character, and to fur- 
nish unequivocal evidence of her entrance on that state of 
blessedness she so ardently desired for her son. And that 
son, it is well known, afterwards became one of the brightest 
luminaries of his age and of the world. Their genial light 
has already beamed upon the nations for nearly two thou- 
sand years ; and there is the highest reason to believe, that, 
having turned many to righteousness, both of them are now 
robed in celestial splendor, and will shine for ever, as stars 
of the first magnitude in the firmament of glory. 

In view, then, of results so immeasurably glorious and 
happy, who that sustains the endearing relation of parent, 



MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 7 

must not feel urged to the faithful and persevering discharge 
of duty ? What wife or mother will not be constrained to 
labor, like the pious Monica, for the salvation and eminent 
usefulness of her household ? And what child of sensibility 
can fail to cherish sentiments of ceaseless gratitude for the 
affection and prayers of such a mother ? 

In comparison with such results of conjugal and paren- 
tal fidelity to the priceless interests of the soul, how utterly 
insignificant are the proudest acquisitions of wealth, the im- 
posing splendors of fashion, or the highest honors of an ap- 
plauding world. These may all vanish in a moment, and 
leave the heart that trusted in them to desolation and de- 
spair ; but the triumphs of Christian effort look onward and 
upward to the society of the just made perfect — to the fel- 
lowship of angels — to treasures imperishable in the heavens — 
to a throne that endureth for ever. 

Such is the exceeding great reward proffered to the faith- 
ful. But the time for securing it is fast passing away. The 
day of reckoning and decision is at hand. And then how 
many, now living at ease, wasting their precious moments 
in trifling pursuits, or toiling for perishable riches, would 
give the wealth of worlds for another season of probation and 
usefulness. 0, how many, in that hour, would give millions 
of worlds for a seat with Monica and her son, and the shin- 
ing multitudes saved through their instrumentality, at the 
right hand of the throne. 

Dear reader, this exalted privilege may be yours. Do 
you ask how ? It cannot surely be attained in idleness and 
unbehef This would be contrary to the entire analogy of 
nature and providence, as well as to the unchanging word 
of Jehovah. These uniformly declare, that whatsoever a 
man soweth, that shall he also reap. Unless, then, the plans 
and purposes of Heaven be changed, a most fearful destiny 
necessarily awaits the slothful, the unbelieving, the unprof- 
itable. But believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt 



8 MOTHER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 

he saved. Believe the testimonies of eternal truth, concern- 
ing man's rebeUion and ruined condition, and the solemn 
realities of judgment and eternity, and you will at once shake 
off sloth, and be aroused to escape impending wrath and 
secure mifading gloiy. Do you love your ease and the pleas- 
ures of the world more than heaven ? You have your choice ; 
but remember, the friendship of the world is enmity with 
Grod. Do you say, there is time enough for religion by and 
by ? Behold, 7ioiv is the accepted time. The omniscient 
One gives not the least encouragement for another day. Be. 
hold, noio is the day of salvation. Do you say, then, you 
will in earnest seek salvation, but not have it known ? This, 
too, is at variance with Heaven's design. Let your light so 
shine before 7nen that they may see your good works. "Who- 
soever is ashamed of me and of my words, of him also shall 
the Son of man be ashamed. Do you feel the overwhelm- 
ing power of sinful habit, and your utter inability to rise in 
your own strength ? Take hold of that mighty arm now 
reaching down from heaven, ready to raise you up, to 
strengthen you, to heal you. It is an arm of everlasting 
mercy for the chief of simiers. The same kind arm that 
rescued Augustine, after thirty years of rebellion and wallow- 
ing in sin — rescued him from the horrible pit and miry clay, 
and set his feet upon a rock, and put a new song into his 
mouth. Rise, then, in the might of that omnipotent arm ; 
seize the offer of infinite love ; run with patience the race 
now set before you ; and you too, like Monica, and Augus- 
tine, and the countless multitudes before the throne, shall 
come off conqueror, and more than conqueror, through Him 
that hath loved us and washed us from our sins in his own 
blood. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



nro. 464. 

COUNSEL TO THE CONVICTED. 



You acknowledge the existence of God, and your ac- 
countability to him ; that he is righteous, and that sin is 
wrong, and without excuse. You acknowledge that the law 
of God is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and 
good ; that you have broken the law, and are condemned by 
it as a transgressor. You are aware that the wages of sin 
is "death" — that death which stands over against the " eter- 
nal life" which is the gift of God through Jesus Christ ; and 
that you lie under this condemnation, in your sins, exposed 
to the righteous inflictions of violated law. 

The more you reflect upon the subject, the more your 
sins rise up to condemn you. They present themselves in 
every direction, under every form of thought and conduct, 
and in every degree of aggravation and guilt : law violated, 
and authority unheeded ; the goodness and long suflering of 
God abused ; a hard and impenitent heart, persisted in against 
all the overtures of mercy ; and a poignant conviction that 
you have "trodden under foot the Son of God, and counted 
the blood of the covenant an unholy thing, and done despite," 
you fear, " to the Spirit of grace ;" and you cannot rest : a 
sense of guilt and deserved wrath forbids it. Once you were 
"alive without the law," but not so now. The desperate 
wickedness of your heart and life is discovered to you ; the 
commandment has come ; sin has revived ; and you appre- 
ciate, in some measure, your condition, as one that is "dead 
in trespasses and sins." Weighed down with a sense of guilt 
and condemnation, you exclaim. Oh, wretched man tJiat I 
am! ivho shall deliver me from the body of this death ? 

But conviction does not bring peace. You are not rec- 
onciled to God. Conscience does but forebode indignation 
and wrath as the portion of your cup at the hand of Him 
who is holy and true. You dare not go back ; to stay where 
you are, you know is death ; and urged by the solemnities 
that surround you, and the deep compunctions of your spirit, 
you ask, with the convicted jailer, " Sirs, what must I do 
TO BE SAVED ? " I answcr, 

VOL. XT. .37 



2 COUNSEL TO THE CONVICTED. 

1 . Carry ymir case to God. Acknowledge all your sin 
and guilt to him. Pour all your convictions into his ear, and 
spread before him all the terrors and burdens of your soul. 
Your sin is committed against hijii ; it is the violation of his 
righteous law — rebellion against his rightful authority — dis- 
obedience to his most holy will — the rejection of his infinite 
'claims upon you : lay open before him, then, your most in- 
ward convictions, and your whole soul in relation to it. All 
your way in transgression has been against God, and you 
ought at once, and like a child, to acknowledge all before 
him. There tell the story of your guilt, and with the deep- 
est contrition and the most heartfelt sorrow and penitence 
confess all your un worthiness in his sight. Reason teaches 
this, and this course you would take if" you had wronged an 
earthly friend, or you would not expect forgiveness from 
him, or reconciliation to him, or an miburdened conscience. 
Equally indispensable is the same course in our relations as 
sinners against God ; and in respect to this, you have as yet 
wholly failed. You have not brought your state and wants 
before God. You have not come to him, in penitent ac- 
knowledgment of your sin, and confessed, in brokenness of 
spirit, your transgressions against him. You have not opened 
the fountain of your grief and tears before the throne. You 
have not unbosomed yourself there. Hitherto you have 
turned away from God, and kept your convictions and anx- 
ieties to yourself, or made them known only to others like 
yourself. You have not acted the part of a child in this 
matter. You have not said, " Father, I have sinned against 
heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called 
thy son :" " against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done 
this evil in thy sight." 

Perhaps you forget that God is on the throne of grace, 
that he has provided a Saviour, and in infinite compassion 
promised life to the penitent returning sinner. " As I live, 
saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, 
but that he turn from his wicked way and live." " Gome 
unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will 
giA'^e you rest." " Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall 
be white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they 
shall be as wool." From some cause, you do not throw 
yourself into the arms of the ever-blessed God himself, who 
only can forgive sin. You feel guilty and self-condemned, 



COUNSEL TO THE CONVICTED. 3 

and, it may be, smitten to the eartli by the multitude and 
enormity of your sins, and the exceeding wickedness of your 
heart ; and yet you do not come and take refuge in the mercy 
of God, and you are not comforted. Forgiveness seems far 
from you. Your conscience is not reheved. Your sin is un- 
pardoned ; your load of guilt and condemnation yet remains, 
and presses with continually increasing weight upon your 
soul, and it ever must while you stay away from God. You 
turn aside from the only source where forgiveness can meet 
you, and reconciliation take place. Oh, if you would but 
cast yourself down at the foot of the throne of mercy, and, in 
view of the cross of Christ, unburden all your heart, you 
Avould get help ; you would find remission, and know for 
yourself that " God is just and faithful to forgive us our sins." 
There the prodigal son found reconciliation ; there the peni- 
tent publican was accepted ; and there she that was a great 
simier obtained comfort, as she washed the Saviour's feet 
with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head, 
and heard him say, " Thy sins, which are many, are forgiven 
thee." Come, then, directly to the mercy-seat, and there 
remember, 

2. That you have 7io rigliteousness of your own before 
God. Seek not to justify yourself at the foot of the throne, 
or to palliate your offences, or to turn away from a full con- 
viction of your ruined condition by sin. Acknowledge, with- 
out reserve, the claims of the law of God upon you, and the 
justice of your condemnation as a transgressor. Give up the 
controversy with God, and as a lost and helpless sinner, who 
has forfeited every thing, and might justly be cast off for 
ever, throw yourself wholly upon his mercy. There " all 
our hopes begin." It was " when we were without strength " 
that " Christ died for the ungodly." We must go wholly out 
of ourselves for the ground of pardon and acceptance wdth 
God. " Not by works of righteousness which we have done, 
but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of 
regeneration and the renewhig of the Holy Ghost ; that being 
justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to 
the hope of eternal life." " Not unto us, not unto us, but 
unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy and thy truth's sake," 
is the song of all the ransomed of God. It is the theme of 
the Christian in all his earthly pilgrimage, and he enters 
into rest, exclaiming, " I am a sinner saved hij graced 



4 COUNSEL TO THE CONVICTED. 

3, Rely on Christ. He is the only Saviour, his death 
the only expiation for sin, the only channel of the mercy of 
God. Without it, forgiveness w^ould be impossible, and our 
fallen w^orld be without help. But God has laid upon him 
our iniquities, set him forth to be a propitiation through faith 
in his blood, and revealed his righteousness, Avhile he justi- 
fies him that belie vetli in Jesus. He is " the only name 
given under heaven among men, whereby we must be saved," 
and in him only have we righteousness and strength. Place 
your dependence then wholly upon him ; plead his interpo- 
sition for simiers ; his atonmg merits as the ground of par- 
don, and come to God in liis name. Knowing that it is by 
being forgiven all our sin for his sake, that we are accepted 
and saved, receive him as a Saviour, acknowledge your in- 
debtedness to him, and give him your heart. As your K-e- 
deemer and Lord, receive him, consecrate your heart, your 
soul, your life, your all to liim. As one bought with his 
blood, ransomed from sin and hell by his death on the cross, 
cleave in childlike simplicity to him, and follow him in new- 
ness of life. Tills is believing upon him ; tliis is accepting 
him as offered in the Gospel. This cleaving to Christ in- 
volves repentance for sin and true humiliation before God on 
account of it ; our dying unto sin and living unto God ; con- 
version in the -spirit of our mind, and our evangelical obedi- 
ence. The sinner thus repenting, believing, returning to God 
by the Gospel, meets the terms of forgiveness revealed in his 
behalf Here the gushing waters of salvation flow to his 
soul. Here sin is forgiven ; the controversy ceases, and rec- 
onciled and accepted, he becomes a child and heir of God, 
through grace. 

You have the answer then, and you see the issue. 
" This do, and thou shalt live.'' 



I'UBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



l¥o. 465. 

BELIEVEST THOU? 

BY REV. TIMOTHY DWIGHT. D. D. 



Men, though born in a Christian land, sometimes volun- 
tarily become heathen. They do not, indeed, worship Jupi- 
ter and Apollo ; nor prostrate themselves before stocks and 
stones ; for usually they worship no God, whether false or 
true. But they place themselves on the same foundation 
with the heathen for acceptance with God. They reject 
the Bible, deny the Saviour, and renounce the immortal life 
of the Gospel. In every respect, therefore, they are heathen, 
except that they refuse light which the heathen never en- 
joyed, and cast away blessings of which the ancient heathen 
never heard. Their sins, therefore, are exceedingly aggra- 
vated beyond those of their predecessors. God ivould save 
them, but they will not be saved. Christ would redeem 
them from their sins, but they refuse to be redeemed. Im- 
mortal life is ready to descend upon them ; the gates of 
heaven are opened, that they may enter in and become par- 
takers of its glorious blessings ; but they turn their backs 
upon the proffer, and reject it with disdain. 

Were I warranted, in an interview with a person of this 
character, to exercise the frankness as well as the candor 
which a case so solemn would evidently demand, I would 
address him in some such manner as the following : 

" AYho art thou, that thou exaltest thyself against thy 
Maker ? A worm, born yesterday of the dust, to return to 
the same dust to-morrow ; and yet declaring thyself able to 
scan the universe, to comprehend the thoughts of Omnis- 
cience, and to measure the arm of the Almighty I 

" Rend the veil which has so long covered thine eyes, 
and open them upon the world around thee. What dost 
thou behold ? A universe of wonders. Whence were they 
derived ? ' From fate,' thou wilt answer, ' or from chance, 
or from the attributes and operations of matter proceeding 
in an eternal series.' Dost thou not perceive that in this 
VOL. XI. 37* 



2 BELIEVEST THOU 1 

assignment of so many and so various causes for the origina- 
tion of all things, thou declarest thy absolute ignorance of 
any cause ? If the true cause were known to thee, thou 
wouldst certainly point it out, and not creep, for a retreat, 
into these alternatives. If fate is the cause, then chance is 
not ; if chance, then the cause is not found ui the attributes 
and operations of matter. 

" What is fate ? A word. What is its meaning ? 
Nothing. Search thy own mind, and thou wilt perceive 
that this abstract term has there had, hitherto, no significa- 
tion. A new meaning to it, and it becomes, of course, God. 

" Survey yonder tree. Dost thou not perceive that it is 
a wonderful system of contrivances ; of innumerable parts, 
formed into a complete whole ? Are the roots casually 
formed ? Is the stem casually annexed to them ; and suc- 
cessively the branches, leaves, flowers, fruits, and seeds ? 
If these things do not manifest contrivance, has the word 
any meaning ? 

" Examine thy own body. Are the bones, sinews, nerves, 
the vascular system, the limbs, the trunk, the head, and the 
features of the face, the offspring of casualty ? Did chance 
arrange them, with such symmetry, into a frame so mysteri- 
ous ; and commence its more mysterious and more wonder- 
ful operations ? 

" Look at thy mind. Is chance the parent of thought, 
of science, of wisdom, of moral action ? 

" Didst thou ever see, didst thou ever hear of a casualty ? 
Thou wilt be compelled to reply in the negative. Where, 
then, and why, and when, did this supposed torrent of casu- 
alties begin, and cease to flow ? 

" If the inherent attributes of matter are the causes of 
its operations, those operations must have existed in an 
eternal series. But dost thou not perceive intuitively, that 
an eternal series is a self-contradiction ? 

" Of what is the universe composed ? Of atoms. AYhat 
binds them together, so as to constitute worlds and systems ? 
Thou wilt say, Attraction. What is attraction ? To this 
question thou canst give no answer. Dost thou not perceive 
that this word denotes an effect, and not a cause ; a fact, 
and not the power by which it is produced ? Of this power 
thou knowest nothing ; and yet it is boundless, unwearied, 
and eternal. 



BELIEVEST THOU? 3 

" Remove, then, this mental rubbish of infideUty, and 
acknowledge what thou canst not deny, that there is a God. 
His hand lighted up the sun, rolled the planets around him, 
kindled the stars, and marked out the mysterious course of 
the moon. The same hand sprinkled this world with ver- 
dure, beauty, and magnificence ; formed man upon it ; gave 
him the breath of life, and caused him to become a living 
soul. He also has, from the beginning, given rain from 
heaven, and fruitful seasons, and filled the hearts of men 
with food and gladness. In all this he has not left himself, 
to any sober, discerning eye, without ample witness of his 
existence, presence, agency, and character. 

" Of this same great and glorious Being thou art the 
workmanship ; mdebted to him for every thing which thou 
hast enjoyed, and dependent on him lor every thing for 
which thou canst hope. But against this being thou hast 
sinned. By whatever laAV thou believest thyself governed, 
that law thou hast broken. To him thou hast been un- 
grateful, impious, and rebellious ; to thy fellow-men unjust, 
unkind, and insincere ; and to thyself a continual source of 
moral pollution. For these sins thou canst make no atone- 
ment, and allege no excuse. Of them all he has been an 
eye and an ear witness. Thou durst not believe that he is 
not of imrcr eyes, than to behold- iniquity. Thy own reason 
declares, with a silent but solemn voice, that God cannot but 
hate sm, and camiot bless sinners. Look at the manner in 
which he executes vengeance upon this guilty world. Mark 
the ravages of the storm, the desolating miseries of famine 
and pestilence, and the devastations of the earthquake and 
the volcano. See oppression grind the race of man to the 
dust, and woe dye the world in blood. With these terrible 
proofs of his justice before thine eyes, will it be possible for 
thee to comprehend, or to measure his future vengeance 
against iniquity ? 

" Thou art a sinner. Thy own conscience has a thou- 
sand times declared this tremendous truth. Should he sum- 
mon thee to account for thy sins hereafter, what wilt thou 
answer ? From his eye where wilt thou hide ? From his 
hand how wilt thou escape ? With what agonies wilt thou 
then wish that thou hadst acknowledged, believed, and obeyed 
liis word. With what sighs will thy bosom heave, with 
what throes will thy heart wring for an interest in that 



4 BELIEVEST THOU ? 

divine Redeemer whom in this world thou hast only crucified 
afresh by thy unbelief. Dost thou not see that thou art 
sacrificing thyself on the altar of infidelity, and murdering 
thy soul as a victim to sinful pleasure ? 

" What then is thy hope ? Annihilation. But how 
dost thou know that God will annihilate thee ? Stung by 
thy guilt, thou hast made thyself willmg, or persuaded thy- 
self that thou art wilhng to see the living light of the mind 
go out in eternal darkness. But will He who kindled it 
sutler it to expire ? Shouldst thou continue to exist after 
death, how terrible a state of existence will eternity prove 
to thee. 

" Accompany me to yonder cemetery. Whose graves do 
I see ? In this thy father is interred ; in tliat sleep the re- 
mains of thy mother. They were Christians. They loved 
God, they trusted in the Redeemer, they practised holiness, 
and from this melancholy world they ascended to heaven. 
In that delightful world, amid all its glories, they wait im- 
patiently for the arrival of thee, their beloved child, to com- 
plete their joys. But they wait in vain. Thy path is only 
downward. Thou hast destined thyself to the regions of 
annihilation. Nay, thou wouldst pluck them from the loot 
of the eternal throne, extinguish their immortal life, strip 
them of angelic happmess, and hurl them down to the same 
dark and desolate abyss. Miserable man I 

" Open thine eyes, if they are not finally closed in moral 
darkness, and see before thee the melancholy regions of woe, 
where the groan of anguish resounds, and the stream of tears 
floAVS without intermission and without end ; and where 
death and despair stretch their iron sceptre for ever over the 
dreary solitude. Dost thou tremble at the prospect \ Look 
behind thee, and behold Goodness and Mercy, twin-born of 
heaven, and arrayed in robes of micreated light, stand, anx- 
iously watching thy course, and beckon thee back to life ; 
while, at their side, Hope, with her lucid finger, points the 
path to immortality, and exclaims, with a smile, ' Glory to 
God in the highest ; peace on earth, and good- will towards 
men.' " 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 406. 



THE 



WAY TO HEAVEN 



BY PRESIDENT EDWARDS. 



How poor you are if you have no heaven but this world. 
You have nothing but a httle part of this clod of earth ; and 
what is it all worth ? If you have a little more land than 
some of your neighbors, or if you are in a way to make more 
money than others — if your accommodations are better than 
others, and you have more worldly conveniences and pleas- 
ures than others, or if you are promoted a little higher among 
men than some others are, what a poor portion is this, and 
how miserable are you who have no better happiness that 
you can call your own ! How happy do these things make 
you ? What great satisfaction do they yield you ? Are such 
things as these the " rivers of pleasure " that you choose for 
your portion ? how miserable I When a few days are pass- 
ed you must go to the grave and into eternity, and then your 
glory shall not descend after you. Then how wretched are 
you, if when you have done with worldly enjojTnents, it 
may be said that you have received your consolation. Luke 
6 : 24. 

But you have yet an opportunity to be made happy for 
ever. The opportunity you now have to obtain the happi- 
ness of another world is worth ten thousands of this world. 
Do you ask. What i^rusT I do in order to go to heaven ? 



2 THE WAY TO HEAVEN. 

1. You must entirely renounce all hope of obtaining 
heaven by any tiling you can do in your oicn strength — 
either directly or indirectly. Many are sensible that they 
cannot get to heaven by their own strength directly, but yet 
they hope to do it indirectly ; they hope by their own strength 
to bring themselves to a disposition to close with Christ and 
accept of him for a Saviour ; they are hopmg to bring them- 
selves to a compliance with the terms of salvation. You 
must be brought off from all confiding in your own strength ; 
and you must also be brought to renomice your own right- 
eousness as the price of heaven. 

2. Your heart must close ivith Him ivho lias purchased 
heaven. Renouncing all other ways, you must receive him, 
rely upon him, and adhere to him as " the way, the truth, 
and the life." Your heart must be drawn to him, and it 
must be pleasing and sweet to you to have heaven as a free 
gift, as the fruit of mercy and saving grace ; you must assur- 
edly believe that Christ is a sufficient Saviour, and your soul 
must acquiesce in the way of salvation by him, by his blood 
and his righteousness, as a wise, holy, sufficient, and excellent 
way. Your heart must incline to Jesus Christ as a Saviour 
above your own righteousness and all other ways. Your 
delight must be in this holy way of salvation. 

3. You must clwose the God of heaven for your poi- 
tion. You must be of the same temper and disposition with 
the Psalmist, who says, Psalm 73 : 25, " Whom have I in 
heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire 
besides thee." You must esteem and relish the enjoyment 
of him far above all other things. You must be brought to 
see that there is in the enjoyment of Grod, and communion 
with him, what is far better than all the profits and pleas- 
ures of the world. It must be so with you, that if you could 



THE WAY TO HEAVEiV. 3 

have your choice of all kinds of happiness you could devise, 
and have M^hich you would, and in what degree you would, 
to all eternity, this would he what you would far prefer. 

4. Your heart must sincerely choose the employments of 
heaven. In heaven they are not idle, hut they are contin- 
ually employed, and their employments are holy employ- 
ments ; they spend their time wholly in holy exercises : in 
contemplating God, m praising and serving him. " And 
there shall be no more curse : but the throne of God and of 
the Lamb shall be in it ; and his servants shall serve him." 
Rev. 22 : 3. If ever you go to heaven, your heart must be 
brought beforehand to such a temper as freely to choose such 
employments ; you must have a relish of them, and must 
account them excellent and delightful. 

5. You must be pure in heart and clean in hands. 
The pure in heart shall see God. Matt. 5:8. They that 
shall ascend into God's holy hill, are those that are of pure 
hearts and clean hands. Psalm 24 : 4. You must hate and 
abhor all sin, and allow none in your life. Sin must become 
to you a great burden. You must loathe yourself for it, and 
light and strive against it, to purge yourself more and more 
from it ; striving more and more to mortify sin, earnestly 
desiring and seeking to be more holy, more conformed to the 
will of God, and to walk more becoming a Christian. 

6. You must sell all for heaven. Matt. 13 : 44, 45, 46. 
Heaven must be to you hke the treasure hid in a field, or 
like the pearl of great price. If you would have heaven, 
you must take it as your whole portion ; you must in your 
heart part with all other things for it, and it must be your 
manner actually to part with them whenever they stand in 
the way of your getting forward towards heaven. If you 
would have heaven, you must sell your worldly profit, and 



4 THE WAY TO HEAVEN. 

your credit, and the good-will of your neighbors, and your 
worldly pleasures and conveniences, and whatever stands in 
your way. Many flatter themselves that they shall obtain 
heaven without this, and think they have a right to heaven 
though they were never brought to this ; but they are sure 
to find themselves disappointed. 

7. You must never expect to go to heaven in any other 
than a strait and narroiu icay. Some expect to get to heav- 
en Avho are not Avalking in a narrow way. The way they are 
walking in, is a way of mdulging their ease, and of shifting 
ofi^ the hard and difficult parts of religion. It is not the way 
of self-denial, and toil, and laboriousness ; but they walk in a 
broad way, a way wherein they are not perplexed, but can 
go on without labor or watchfulness, or bearing the cross. 
But such as these, let their hopes be what they may, and 
their profession w^hat it may, and their pretences to experi- 
ence what they may, are not like to get to heaven. 

To some, the way the Scripture has laid out is too narrow 
and strait, therefore they are endeavoring to get to heaven 
in a broad way ; but it is in vain for you to contrive this. 
If you can find out any way of getting to heaven that is not 
a strait and narrow way, it will be a way that you are the 
first inventor of. If you go thither, you must go in the way 
of the footsteps of the flock. If you would go to heaven, 
you must be content to go there in the way of self-denial 
and sufferings, you must be willing to take up the cross dai- 
ly and follow Christ, and through much tribulation enter into 
the kingdom of heaven. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 467. 

LOST CONYICTIONS. 



BY PRESIDENT EDWARDS. 



If you have the strivings of God's Spirit, God has met 
with you, led you to reflect upon your sins, made you sensi- 
ble that you are in danger of hell, awakened your concern 
for your soul, and inclined you to seek salvation. Take heed 
that you do not lose your convictions, and grow senseless of 
eternal things ; that you do not return to your former care- 
less way of living, and your former sins. Consider, 

1 . There is dangefi- of this. Not all who are concerned 
for their souls, and who, by the strivings of God's Spirit, are 
seeking and striving for salvation, hold out to the end. 
Many things intervene between the beginning and the end 
of the race, which divert, and stop, and turn back those who 
commenced well. There are many who seem to be under 
strong convictions, and to be very earnest in seeking, whose 
convictions are but short-lived. And some who seem, to be 
much concerned about salvation for a considerable time, it 
may be for years together, yet by degrees grow careless and 
negligent. 

There is much in your own heart which tends to stupefy 
you. It is the natural tendency of sin to stupefy the con- 
science. And as corruption is reigning as yet in your heart, 
it will ever be ready to exert itself in such acts as Avill have 
a great tendency to drive away your convictions. And Sa- 
tan is doubtless diligently watching over you, striving in all 
ways to abate and to hinder your convictions. He joins in 
with the sloth and lusts of your heart to persuade to negli- 
gence, and to turn your mind to other things. And the 
world is full of objects which tend to take off your mind 
from the soul's concerns. 

2. Consider, if you lose your convictions, it will be no 
advantage to you that ever you had them, as to any further- 
ance of your salvation. Whatever terrors you have been 
under about damnation, to whatever reflections you have 
been brought concerning your sins, whatever strong desires 

VOL. XI. 38 



2 LOST CONVICTIONS. 

you have had after dehverance, and w^hatever earnest pray- 
ers you have made, all will be in vain. What you have 
suffered of fear and concern w^ill turn to no good account, 
and Avhat you have done, the pains you have taken, v^^ill he 
utterly lost. When you have striven against sin, and labored 
in duty, have stemmed the stream, and have proceeded a 
considerable way up the hill, and made some progress to- 
wards the kingdom of heaven, if once you lose your convic- 
tions, you will be as far from salvation as you ever were ; 
you will lose all the ground you have gained ; you will go 
quite down to the bottom of the hill ; the stream will imme- 
diately cany you back. All will be lost ; you may as well 
never have had those convictions, as to have had them and 
then lost them. 

3. You do not know that you will ever liave such an 
oppm-tunity again. God is now striving with you by his 
Spirit. If you should lose the strivings of his Spirit, it may 
be that God's Spirit would never return to you again. If 
you are under convictions, you have a precious opportunity, 
which, if you knew the worth of it, you would esteem better 
than any temporal advantages. You have a price m your 
hands to get wisdom, which is more valuable than gold or 
silver. It is a great privilege to live under means of grace, 
to enjoy the word and ordinances of God, and to know the 
way of salvation. It is a greater thing to live imder the 
powerful dispensation of the means of grace by an instruc- 
tive, convincing ministry. But it is a much greater privi- 
lege still, to be the subject of the convincing influences of 
the Spirit of God. If you have these, you have a precious 
advantage in your hands. And if you lose it, it is question- 
able whether you will ever have like advantages again. 

We are counselled to seek the Lord while he may be 
found, and to call upon him while he is near. Isaiah 55 : 6. 
A time in which God's Spirit is striving with a man by 
convictions of his sin and danger, is especially such a time. 
It is a simier's best opportunity. It is especially a day of 
salvation. God may be said to be near, when he pours out 
his Spirit upon many in the place M'here a person dwells. 
All should be calling upon God as near at such a time. But 
especially is God near, when he is pouring out his Spirit in 
convincing and awakening a man's own soul. If God's 
Spirit is now striving with you, you have a precious oppor- 



LOST CONVICTIONS. 3 

tuiiity. Take heed that you do not by any means let it sUp. 
It may doubtless be said concerning many, that they have 
missed their opportunity. Most men who live under the 
Gospel have a special opportunity, or there is a certain sea- 
son wliich God appoints for them, Avhich is, above all otliers, 
a day of grace, when they have a very fair opportunity of 
securing eternal salvation, if they did but know it and had 
hearts for it. 

If the Spirit of God is now striving with you, it may be 
it is your time, and it may be your only time. Be wdse, 
therefore, and understand the things which belong to your 
peace before they are hid from j^our eyes. You have not 
the influences of the Spirit of God in your own power. God 
is sovereign as to the bestowment of them. If you are 
ready to flatter yourself, that although you neglect now 
when you are young, yet you shall be awakened again, that 
is a vain and groundless presumption. 

4. If you lose your convictions, and return again to a 
way of allowed simiing, there will be less j^t'obability of 
your salvation than there was before you had any convic- 
tions. Stifling or losing convictions is a very dangerous and 
pernicious thing to men's souls, and is often spoken of as 
such in God's word ; which was signified in the awful dis- 
pensation of God in turning Lot's wife into a pillar of salt, 
to be a standing emblem of the danger of looking back after 
one has set out in a way of religion. 

The ill to which they are subject who lose their convic- 
tions, is not merely the loss of their convictions. Their con- 
victions are not only a means of no good to them, but they 
turn to much ill. It would have been better for them that 
they had never had them, for they are now farther from 
salvation than they were before. Having risen towards 
heaven, and falling back, they sink lower and farther down 
toAvards hell than ever they were. The way to heaven is 
now blocked up with greater difficulties than ever it was. 
Their hearts have now become harder ; for light and con- 
victions being once conquered, they evermore are an occasion 
of greater hardness of heart than there was before. 

Yea, there is no one thing whatsoever which has so 
great a tendency to it. Man's heart is hardened by losing 
convictions, as iron is hardened by being heated and cooled. 
If you are awakened, and afterwards lose your convictions, it 



4 LOST CONVICTIONS. 

will be a harder thing to awaken you again. If you were 
only gi-owing older, there would be less probability of your 
being awakened again ; for as persons grow older they grow 
less and less susceptible of convictions , evil habits grow 
stronger and more deeply rooted in the heart. But you 
greatly offend God by quenching his t*>pirit and returning to 
sin. And there is danger that God will say concerning you, 
as he did concernmg Jerusalem, Ezekiel 24 : 13, " Because 
I have purged thee, and thou wast not purged, thou shalt 
not be purged from thy filthiness any more, till I have 
caused my fury to rest upon thee." If you were but sensi- 
ble of one half of the disadvantages of it, and the many woes 
and calamities in which it ^vill involve you, you would be 
careful not to lose your con^'ictions. That you may be the 
better directed in taking care not to lose them, consider, 

1. Persons /a///;? o- i?ito s,hi is very often the occasion of 
their losing their convictions. Some temptation prevails 
over them ; they yield to some sinful appetite ; they hidulge 
in strife, or malice, or revenge ; and thus provoke God to 
anger, and drive away the Holy Spirit. 

2. Sometimes there happens mme diverting occasion. 
Their minds are taken off for a short time ; they are drawn 
into company. It may be they see something which revives 
a desire of worldly, enjoyments and entertainments, or they 
are engaged in some business which diverts their minds. 
They become less strict in attendmg private duties ; and 
carelessness and stupidity by degrees steal upon them, till 
they wholly lose their convictions. 

3. Some change in their circumstances takes off their 
minds from the concerns of their souls. They are taken up 
Avith new pleasures and enjoyments, or with new cares and 
business in which they are involved. It may be they grow 
richer. They prosper in the world, and their worldly good 
things crowd in and take possession of their minds ; cares 
increase upon them, and the soul is neglected and left to 
perish. 

And what wilt thou say when God shall call for thee ; 
or what wilt thou do when he shall deal mth thee ? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Xo. 468. 

FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS 

TO 

AN EMIGRANT. 

BY AN EMIGRANT. 



Home has its charms, and emigration its difficulties. 
This you have realized. You have left your native countiy, 
and that well-recollected spot in which you were encircled 
by fond endearments and pleasing associations, and after 
crossing the ocean, you find yourself a stranger in a strange 
land. You heard that America was a land of plenty, and 
wishing to improve your circumstances, you resolved to make 
it your future home, and here you have arrived, indulging 
hopes which perhaps you sometimes fear may not be realized. 
It is not improbable that your first acquaintances in America 
were some of your own countrj^men, and that they told you 
tales of disappointment. But be not discouraged ; their 
disappointments may have resulted from their own impru- 
dence : many have prospered here, and if you conduct your- 
self with propriety, you may prosper also. 

In the nations of Europe the people are subjects, but 
here every citizen participates in the sovereignty. This 
produces a difierence in views, feelings, and manners, that 
foreigners soon discover, and that frequently makes an unfa- 
vorable impression upon their minds ; but as they become 
acquainted with American principles, that impression van- 
ishes, and that which at first was disapproved is admired 
and imitated. It would be w^ell for foreigners to recollect, 
that when they come hither, they ought to respect the insti- 
tutions and obey the laws that have been framed by a people 

VOL. XI. 38* 



2 FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 

well acquainted with their oAvn afiairs ; but if, instead of 
this, they find fault, make invidious comparisons, and rec- 
ommend alterations, they will be very likely to wound the 
feelmgs of those whose friendship they ought to cultivate. 

It is no doubt the case, that many who come to this coun- 
try to improve their circumstances, might have been success- 
fid at home but for the indulgence of some vice or impropri- 
ety that would prevent their being successful anywhere. It 
behooves them therefore, upon their arrival, altogether to 
avoid the continuance of that indulgence ; and if they do 
not, they should blame themselves and not the countrj^ for 
the consequences of their conduct. 

Foreigners might reasonably suppose, that there is no 
maritime city in the United States that can provide employ- 
ment for all who emigrate to it. They should not therefore 
remain in the city at which they land until they have ex- 
pended their funds, but in most cases proceed with a§ little 
delay as possible to those parts of the country in which they 
may obtain by industry a competent support. If accustom- 
ed to agriculture, they should go to the West, and there they 
may purchase land for less than they paid in Europe as a 
yearly rent for that which was much less fertile. 

But there are many who come here without money, or 
trade, or profession, or habits of industry, or visible means 
of support, and then cast themselves upon our public and 
private charities, crowd our ahiishouses, or beg from door to 
door. This is unjust, and if they whose industry is in con- 
sequence severely taxed, do not regard them as favorably as 
they wish, it ought not to excite surprise. Nor, when many 
circumstances that have transpired are considered, should it 
be thought unreasonable if the people of this comitry with- 
hold their full confidence from foreigners untd they have 
shown by their conduct that it may be safely reposed in them. 
The Americans are a prudent people, who find it necessary 
to guard against imposition ; they are jealous of their rights 



FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 3 

and privileges : if you attempt to alter their institutions, 
they will manifest their indignation ; but to those who iden- 
tify themselves with American interests, and otherwise con- 
duct themselves with propriety, they are a generous people, 
and give a hearty welcome to the many advantages with 
which the country abounds. 

Here is a land almost immeasurable in extent and fertil- 
ity ; labor is adequately rewarded ; enterprise is encouraged, 
and the necessaries of life are cheap. The government is 
the most perfect democracy that can be found on the face of 
the earth, or on the page of liistory. Liberty is enjoyed to 
the fullest extent that safety will admit ; and no nation is 
governed with less expense or more efficiency. Here there 
is no aristocracy to trample on the rights of the poor, and 
the stable-boy may by good conduct rise to the first office in 
the land. Here the most ample provision is made for the 
instruction of the young, and every child may receive a re- 
spectable education at little or no expense ; and this not at 
charity-schools, but at public institutions in which every citi- 
zen has an equal property. Here, too, the rights of conscience 
are respected ; and while the great truth is recognized, that 
every man ought to study the Bible, serve God, benefit man- 
kind, maintain rehgious worship, and aid the diffiision of 
Christianity, he is regarded as a moral agent, accountable 
to God for the performance of these duties. No peculiar 
mode of worship is imposed upon him by human law, nor 
is he compelled to aid in supporting any religious service 
with which he has no sympathy. Yet where is the Gospel 
preached with more purity, or by a more talented ministry, 
or with more evident tokens of divine approbation ? 

Here, then, is a country in which you may be happy. 
Yet here, as elsewhere, they who would be so, must carefully 
shun the evils to which they are exposed, and dihgently per- 
form the duties that devolve upon them. It has been prov- 
ed, upon the testimony of the most eminent physicians, that 



4 FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 

fermented and distilled liquors, although used in moderation, 
are always injurious to health, except when taken medicinal- 
ly. It is also found that large quantities of poisonous drugs 
are used in their preparation. Ardent spirits are here sold 
almost as soon as distilled, and are therefore peculiarly per- 
nicious ; yet, as in this country they are not charged with 
those heavy duties to which they are subjected in Europe, 
they are comparatively cheap ; and hence they present a 
powerful temptation to foreigners, which must be sternly re- 
sisted, or health, happiness, and prosperity will be destroyed. 
The wise and good have pledged themselves to abstain from 
the use of all intoxicatmg liquors ; and by faithfully adhermg 
to this pledge they find their bodily health promoted, their 
mental powers invigorated, and their worldly circumstances 
improved. But look at that poor haggard wretch crawlmg 
through the streets, clothed in rags ; he is a man that reject- 
ed the temperance pledge, and probably he is a foreigner. 

But you are resolved that you Avill observe due modera- 
tion, and never become a drunkard. Are you aware that 
nearly every drunkard in the United States once formed the 
same resolution ? Intemperance and Sabbath-breaking gener- 
ally go hand in hand, and the person who sometimes indul- 
ges in the one will not always avoid the other. A man who 
is not decidedly opposed to these vices, is persuaded by some 
fellow-countr}^man to take what he calls " a pleasant excur- 
sion " on the Sabbath. They get weary, and must sit down 
m some house : it is a tavern, and they are expected to pay 
for their accommodation by purchasing intoxicating drinks. 
It is intended to take but one glass ; but that creates thirst 
for another, and that for another : before he is aware he is 
overpowered, and soon he becomes a confirmed drunkard. 
He then neglects his business, and as confidence can no lon- 
ger be reposed in him, he soon finds himself without employ- 
ment and without friends. To drown reflection he proceeds 
to greater excesses, and as increasing difficulties press upon 



FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 5 

him, he becomes reckless, profane, violent, and dishonest ; nor 
will his downward steps be many before he has become the 
inmate of a prison, or sunk into a drunkard's grave ; leaving 
in some hovel or dismal cellar, oppressed by hunger, naked- 
ness, and misery, the wife and children who were once objects 
of his sincere affection. 

Thus many a foreigner blasts his prospects and plunges 
into ruin, who might have been happy and prosperous ; and 
would you effectually avoid treading in the same path, you 
will do well to reflect seriously upon the depravity of the 
human heart, and the importance of taking the Holy Bible 
as the rule of your life. what an invaluable treasure is 
that sacred volume 1 It gives wisdom to the simple and com- 
fort to the sad ; it affords an exliaustless theme for delightful 
meditation, and sets forth all that is necessary to salvation 
so plainly, that a wayfaring man need not err concermng it. 
make that blessed volume your study, and teach it unto 
your children. It is your property and it is theirs, for God 
gave it to you. Jesus Christ commanded, John 5 : 39, 
" Search the Scriptures ;" and the apostle Paul congratulated 
Timothy, 2 Tim. 3:15, that from a child he liad known 
the holy Scriptures, ivhich ivere able to make him wise unto 
salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus. No man 
can be either a good citizen or a Christian who neglects the 
Bible, for it is the only source from which can be derived 
correct principles in civil or religious polity. He then who 
objects to any man's reading the Bible, would rob him of his 
national privileges, his natural rights, and all correct know- 
ledge of the way to heaven ; and this, that he may promote 
purposes which are antirepublican and antichristian. Yes, 
study the Bible ; study it with prayer, and regularly attend 
the ministry of some faithful preacher who will urge upon 
your attention the importance of your being a Christian, not 
in name only, but in reality ; of your being " born again," 
not delusively by some superstitious pretension, but by the 



6 FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 

power of the Holy Ghost implanting in you a new heart and 
a right spirit, rendering lovely and attractive the ways of 
holiness, and hateful and repulsive the ways of sin, John 
3:3-8; 2 Cor. 5:17; Heb. 8:10; one who will direct 
you to Jesus Christ as the (mly mediator between God and 
man, 1 Tim. 2 : 5, and teach you that for his sake you may 
obtain the knowledge of salvation by the reniissio7i of sins, 
Luke 1:77; and this,, not by the declaration of some pre- 
sumptuous sinner, but by the Sjmii of God bearing ivitness 
with your spirit. Rom. 8 : 16. 0, if you are indeed a 
Christian, you understand these tilings, and enjoy religion 
and dehght to practise it. In this happy land you may find 
many persons of kindred spirit, and with them you may hold 
holy communion. Lose no time in furnishing them with 
your testimonials of church-membership. Become identified 
with some gospel church, and as its members recognize in 
you the image of Christ, their hearts will become one with 
yours, they will mingle in your joys, sympathize in your sor- 
rows, and delight to do you good. Do not, as many unhap- 
pily have done, neglect this duty mitil you have lost your 
spirituality of mind ; for thus they gradually declined into 
a state of awful backsliding, and^ so continued until God 
chastised them with the rod of sickness and penury, and 
thus aroused them to a sense of their defection. 

But perhaps you are still unconverted ; never having 
yielded to the full conviction of your being a guilty, helpless, 
hell-deserving sinner, who must be lost for ever unless the 
Lord for Christ's sake pardon your sins and renew your soul 
in righteousness, and consequently never having sought and 
obtained a sense of his mercy. Is this your case ? If so, it 
should engage your first attention. No worldly success can 
make you truly happy without religion ; nor can you neglect 
obtaining religion amidst that gospel light which here blazes 
around you, without the rapid accumulation of guilt and in- 
curring the most fearful judgments, even as the inhabitants 



FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 7 

of Chorazin and Bethsaida involved themselves in a doom 
more terrible than that which overthreM^ Sodom and Gomor- 
rah. God has brought you across the Atlantic, but this is 
not your home. You will remain here but a little while, 
and then you will take another voyage. The passage will 
be short ; but whether it shall be bright and smooth, and 
safely conduct you to the realms of never-ending bliss, or dark 
and rough, and wreck your hopes, and you be cast into a gulf 
of tumultuous flame without a bottom and without a shore, 
depends upon the question whether you consecrate or do not 
consecrate your heart and life to Christ as your only Lord and 
Redeemer. Determine that question speedily ; determme it 
upon your knees before God ; determine it with eternity in 
view, and the words of Christ ringing in your ears : " He 
that believeth not, is condemned already," John 3:18; 
*' Except ye be converted, ye shall not enter into the king- 
dom of heaven." Matt. 18 : 3. 



THE FRIEND YOU NEED. 

Stranger, do you want a friend, 

Ever faithful, ever true ; 
One whose kindness knows no end, 

One whose love can shelter you ? 
Jesus is the friend you need : 
Jesus is a friend indeed. 

None that sought his love's embrace 
Has he ever turned away ; 

You may see his smiling face — 
Gaze upon his charms to-day: 

Ever faithful, ever true, 

Jesus is the friend for you. 



FRIENDLY SUGGESTIONS TO AN EMIGRANT. 

THE EMIGRANT'S HYMN. 

How are thy servants bless'd, O Lord ; 

How sure is their defence ! 
Eternal wisdom is their guide, 

Their help, Omnipotence. 

In foreign realms and lands remote, 

Supported by thy care, 
Through burning climes they pass unhurt, 

And breathe in tainted air. 

When by the dreadful tempest borne 

High on tlie broken wave. 
They know thou art not slow to hear, 

Nor impotent to save. 

The storm is laid ; the winds retire. 

Obedient to thy will ; 
The sea, that roars at thy command. 

At thy command is still. 

In midst of danger, fear, and death. 

Thy goodness we'll adore ; 
We'll praise tliee for thy mercies past, 

And humbly hope for more. 

Our life, while thou preserv'st that life, 

Thy sacrifice shall be ; 
And death, wlien death shall be our lot, 
Shall join our souls to thee. 



Addison. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



T%o. 469, 



PRAYER FOR MINISTERS 



Paul the apostle often requested the prayers of his breth- 
ren. If he felt it necessary to make this request, how much 
more needful for ministers now to make the same. They 
may adopt his language, and often repeat it : " Brethren, pray 
for us." 1 Thess. 5 : 25. 

The duty of praying for ministers is implied in the gen- 
eral directions for prayer contamed in the Scriptures. Thus 
Paul to Timothy, " I exhort that supplications, prayers, in- 
tercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all men." To 
the Ephesians, " Praying always with all prayer, for all 
saints." If for all saints, then for them who stand as watch- 
men on the"%^'alls of Zion. And with what earnestness does 
Paul address the Romans : " Now I beseech you, brethren, 
for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the 
Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to 
God for me." 1 Tim. 2:1-3; Eph. 6 : 18-20 f Psalm 
122 : 6 ; Isa. 62 : 6, 7 ; 1 Cor. 3:5-7; Rom. 15 : 30-32. 

But you do not question the duty : you admit that it is 
binding. Ministers should be prayed for. And if it is a 
duty to pray for all ministers, then it is for your owti. How 
is it m this particular ? Is your oami pastor remembered m 
your prayers ? Pause, and tliink of your closet duties. Have 
you no closet, and no secret prayer ? Then give up your 
hope, and repent of your wickechiess. If a Christian, you 
have a closet : do you remember your minister there ? 

And how is it in your family ? Have you no family 
altar ? Let not tliis day end before you have one. If once 
you had, and it is fallen do^^^l, gather up its scattered and 
broken stones, and rebuild it. A Christian family without 
prayer I it is Avorse than the heathen. How is it in those 
famihes where God is worshipped ? Reader, how is it in 
yours ? Is he remembered who ministers to you in holy 
things ? if you pray not for liim around your hearth, how 
can your household be interested m the messages of mercy 
he delivers ? 

VOL. XI, 39 



2 PRAYER FOR MINISTERS. 

Turn now to your meetings for p?-ayer, church meetings, 
and concerts, and how is it in these ? Do you attend them ? 
Have you good reasons for absence ? "Will you attend them 
in future, and pray for your minister there ? Aaron and Hur 
stayed up the hands of Moses. Exod. 17:12. So the mem- 
bers of the church are to hold up the hands of their pastor. 
They can do this by praying for him. This is duty ; has it 
been performed ? 

A proper regard for the good of their minister should 
induce Christians to pray for him. Ministers are men of 
like passions wdth other men ; they live on the same food, 
and their souls are nourished by the same means. They 
cannot go up into heaven and live through the week, and 
just come down and spend the Sabbath here on earth ; they 
must live in the world, meet the trials and temptations of 
the world, take heed to their spirit, and keep their hearts 
with all diligence. Their peculiar trials, duties, and dangers, 
render a large measure of grace necessary ; and they must 
live near to God, or be ill-qualified to lead on " the sacra- 
mental host of God's elect." How much they need to pray 
for themselves ; and how much they need to have others 
pray for them. 

This duty is enforced by a regard for your own good. 
You should be concerned to grow in grace. Soul-prosperity 
is what you should most earnestly and anxiously seek. But 
how can your soul prosper, when you pray not for him w^ho 
is to be the special instrument in the hand of God of water- 
ing and nourishing it ? You pray not for him in your closet, 
nor in yom- family, and go to the sanctuary on the Sabbath 
without offering a prayer in his behalf; and how can your 
heart be prepared to hear the word which he may speak ? 
Is it strange that you should think the sermon dry, and all 
the exercises dull and uninteresting ; or that you should be- 
gin to find fault, and think it would be better to have some 
other in his place ? Let it be remembered — write it upon 
the tablet of your heart, never to be obliterated or forgot- 
ten — yon cannot have a good minister unless you pray for 
ki??i. Whether a minister, no matter what his talents or 
acquirements, shall be profitable to you, depends much on 
your pray erf ulness. Without your prayers no minister can 
be good lor you, because you are not prepared to profit by 
his labors. Were those churclies which become dissatisfied 



PRAYER FUR MlxMSTER.-^. 3 

with their pastors to examine themselves, they might often 
find the whole cause of their dissatisfaction in their own 
want of prayerfulness ; and were they to try what prayer 
can do, they might find it the restorer of peace and confi- 
dence, and the procurer of rich blessings to their own souls 
and the souls of the perishing aroimd them. They who 
possess the spirit of prayer see so many faults in themselves, 
that they are ready to make due allowance for the failings 
of others. They hear to be benefited, and not as critics, or 
merely to be pleased. They are willing to hear the truth, 
the simple, unvarnished truth ; and the truth, from what- 
ever source it comes, does them good as it doth the upright 
in heart. They are prepared to receive the truth in the love 
of it ; and if they receive not advantage from the services of 
the sanctuary, they are quite as willing to suspect the diffi- 
culty to be in themselves as in the preacher. 

But the principal consideration is, the success of the Gos- 
'pel. " Pray for us, that the word may have free course," 
saith Paul. 2 Thess. 3:1. Prayer for ministers gives the 
Gospel success. Its success depends much upon the state of 
the church. But how miserable the state of that church in. 
which no prayer is offered for the pastor. How can the 
Gospel have free course there, and be glorified ? The truth 
will fall powerless on the hearts, both of the people of God 
and the impenitent. 

The success of the Gospel depends much upon the spirit, 
zeal, and devotion of the minister. But how difficult for 
him to keep alive when all are dead around him. And how 
can a people expect their minister to be and do what he 
ought, if they pray not for him ? See why Paul so earnestly 
requested the prayers of his brethi-en : Pray for me, that 
utterance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth 
boldly ; that God would open unto us a door of utterance, to 
speak the mystery of Christ. Eph. 6:19; Coloss. 4 : 2-4 ; 
2 Thess. 3:1. 

The success of the Gospel depends efficiently upon the 
Holy Spirit. This is given in answer to prayer : for this 
God will be inquired of. Luke 11 : 13 ; Ezek. 36 : 37. But 
is there likely to be prayer for the Spirit, where there is none 
for the preacher ? To pray for the Spirit, is to pray that he 
may fill the mind of the speaker and the hearers, accompany 
the word to the heart, lead all to feel its power and obey it. 



4 PRAVER FOR MINISTERS. 

But a people who pray not for their pastor, cannot be con- 
cerned for the outpourmg of the Spirit, nor for the success of 
the Gospel. Yet its success is what every Christian should 
desire, and what every genuine child of "God who is awake 
to his duties and responsibilities, must desire. On its success 
depends the prosperity of the church and the salvation of 
souls. 

And are such consequences connected with the duty ? 
By what more weighty consideration could it be enforced ? 
The salvation of precious souls may be suspended upon your 
'prayers for your imstor. Shall the duty be neglected, and 
shall souls perish through this neglect ? There is a fearful 
responsibility here, and it becomes every one to awake from 
his slumbers and call upon God. As you regard the welfare 
of Zion, as you desire the salvation of souls, as you love 
Christ and his cause, " Brethren, pray for us." 

Were there more prayer for ministers, greater success 
would attend the preaching of the Gospel. Let the church 
awake to this duty, and the work of God will revive ; let it 
be neglected, and Zion will continue a desolation. Brethren, 
pray for us in your closets, in your families, and in your meet- 
ings for prayer. Let Saturday night be observed as a sea- 
son of prayer for your pastor. Let every member of the 
church, let every Christian, then, intercede with God in be- 
half of liim who speaks to you in his name and of all the 
ministers of Christ. On the ^morning of the Sabbath, too, 
let them have a large place in your supplications. And 
when about to go up to the house of the Lord, retire to seek 
God's presence and blessing for him, that your own soul may 
be refreshed, and that the word of the Lord may have free 
course, run from heart to heart, and be glorified in the con- 
version and salvation of perishing sinners. Then shall the 
angels rejoice, and ransomed souls begin to 

" Speak of the wonders of that love, 
Which Gabriel plays on every chord." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 470. 

THE 

NATURE AND SEASON 



REPENTANCE. 

BY REV. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. 



There are two very prevalent delusions, which are 
pregnant v^^ith mischief to the minds of men : the one 
regards the nature^ and the other the season of Re- 
pentance. 

With regard to the first, much mischief has arisen 
from mistakes respecting the meaning of the term repent- 
ance. The word repentance occurs with two different 
meanings in the New Testamen*. and it is to be regret- 
ted that two different woras could not have been de- 
vised to express these. This is chargeable upon the 
poverty of our language ; for it is to be observed, that in 
the original Greek the distinction in the meanings is 
pointed out by a distinction in the words. The employ 
ment of one term to denote two different things has the 
effect of confounding and misleading the understanding; 
and it is much to be wished that every ambiguity of this 
kind were cleared away from that most interesting point 
in the process of a human soul, at which it turns from 
sin unto righteousness, and from the power of Satan un- 
to Grod. 

When in common language a man says, " 1 repent of 
such an action," he is understood to say, " I am sorry 
for having done it." The feeling is familiar to all of us. 
How often does the man of dissipation prove this senso 
of the word repentance,, when he awakes in the morn- 
ing, and oppressed by the lan.oi'uor of his exhausted facul- 
VOL. XI. 39* 



THE NATUKE AND isEASON 



ties, looks back with remorse on the folHes and profliga- 
cies of tlie night that is past ] How often does the man 
of unguarded conversation prove it, when he thinks of 
the friends whose feelings he has wounded by some 
hasty utterance which he cannot recall ] How often is it 
proved by the man of business, when he reflects on the 
rash engagement which ties him down to a losing specu- 
lation 1 All these people would be perfectly understood 
when they say, " We repent of these doings," The 
word repentance so applied is about equivalent to the 
word regret. There are several passages in the New 
Testament where this is the undoubted sense of the 
word repentance. In Matt, 27 : 3, the wretched Judas 
repented himself of his treachery; and surely when we 
think of the awful denunciation uttered by our Savior 
against the man who should betray him, that it were 
better for him if he had not been born, we shall never 
confound the repentance which Judas experienced with 
that repentance which is unto salvation. 

Now here lies the danger to practical Christianity, In 
the above-cited passage, to repent is just to regret, or to 
be sorry for; and this we conceive to be by far the most 
prevailing sense of the term in the English language. 
But there are other places where the same term is em- 
ployed to denote that which is urged upon us as a duty 
— that which is preached for the remission of sins — that 
which is so indispensable to sinners as to call forth the 
declaration from our Savior, that unless we have it, we 
shall all likewise perish. Now, though repentance, in all 
these cases, is expressed by the same term in our trans- 
lation as the repentance of mere regret, it is expressed 
by a different term in the original record of our faith. 
This surely might lead us to suspect a difference of 
meaning, and should caution us against taking up with 
that as sufficient for the business of our salvation which 
is short of saving and scriptural repentan( e. There may 



Ol' KErENTANCE. J 

be an dlteriiation of wilful sin, and of deep-felt sorrow, 
up to the very end of our history — there may be a pre- 
sumptuous sin committed every day, and a sorrow regu- 
larly succeeding it. Sorrow may embitter eveiy act of 
sin — sorrow may darken every interval of sinful indul- 
gence — and sorrow may give an unutterable anguish to 
the pains and the prospects of a deathbed. Couple all 
this with the circumstance that sorrow passes, in the 
common currency of our language, for repentance, and 
that repentance is made, by our Bible, to lie at the turn- 
ing point from a state of condemnation to a state of ac- 
ceptance with God ; and it is difficult not to conceive 
that much danger may have arisen from this, leading 
to indistinct views of the nature of repentance, and to 
slender and superficial conceptions of the mighty cnange 
which is implied in it. 

We are far from saying that the eye of christians is 
Dot open to this danger, and that the vigilant care of 
christian authors has not been employed in averting it. 
Where shall we get a better definition of repentance un- 
to life than in our Shorter Catechism 1 by which the sin- 
ner is represented not merely as grieving, but, along with 
liis giief and hatred of sin, as turning from it unto God 
with full 2>ur2)ose of and endeavor after new ohedicnce. 
But the mischief is, that the word repent has a common 
meaning, different from the theological ; that wherever it 
is used, this common meaning is apt to intrude itself, and 
exert a kind of habitual imposition upon the understand- 
ing: — that the influence of the sin^jle word carries it over 
the influence of the lengthened explanation ; and thus it 
is that, for a steady progress in the obedience of the Gos- 
pel, many persevere, to the end of their days, in a wretch- 
ed course of sinning and of sorrowing, without fruit and 
without amendment. 

To save the practically mischievous effect arismg from 
the application of one term to two different things, one 



4 THE XATUKE AND SEASON 

distinct and appropriate term lias been suggested for the 
saving repentance of the New Testament. The term re- 
pentance itself has been restricted to the repentance of 
mere sorrow, and is made equivalent to regret ; and for 
the other, able translators have adopted the word reforma- 
tion. The one is expressive of sorrow for our past con- 
duct ; the other is expressive of our renouncing it. It 
denotes an actual turning from the habits of life that we 
are sorry for. Give us, say they, a change from bad 
deeds to good deeds, from bad habits to good habits, 
from a life of wickedness to a life of conformity to the 
requirements of heaven, and you give us reformation 

Now there is often nothing more unprofitao.e tnan a 
dispute about words ; but if a word nas got into commoB 
use, a common and generally understood meaning is at 
tached to it; and if this meaning does not just come uii 
to tne tnmg wnicn we want to express by it, the applica- 
tion of that word to that thing nas the same misleading 
effects as in the case ah-eady alluded to. Now, we have 
much the same kind of exception to allege against the 
term reformation, that we have alleged against the term 
repentance. The term repentance is inadequate — and 
why 1 because, in the common use of it, it is equivalent 
to regret, and regret is short of the saving change that is 
spoken of in the New Testament. On the very same 
principle we count the term reformation to be inade- 
quate. We think that, in common language, a man would 
receive the appellation of a reformed man upon the mere 
change of his outward habits, without any reference to 
the change of mind and of principle which gave rise to 
it. Let the drunkard give up his excesses — let the back- 
biter give up his evil-speakings — let the extortioner give 
up his unfair charges — and we would apply to one and 
all of them, upon the mere change of their external do- 
ings, the character of reformed men. Now, it is evident 
that the drunkard may give up his drunkenness, because 



OF REPENTANCE. 5 

checked by a serious impression of the injury he har> 
been doing: to his health and his circumstances. The 
backbiter may give up his evil-speaking, on being made 
to perceive that the hateful practice has brought upon 
him the contempt and alienation of his neighbors. The 
extortioner may give up his unfair charges, upon taking 
it into calculation that his business is likely to suffer by 
the desertion of his customers. But it is equally evident, 
that though in each of these cases there has been what 
the world would call reformation, there has not been scrip- 
tural repentance. The deficiency of the former term con- 
sists in its having been employed to denote a mere change 
in the deeds or in the habits of the outward man ; and if 
employed as equivalent to repentance, it may delude us 
into the idea that the change by which we are made meet 
for a happy eternity is a far more slender and superficial 
thing than it really is. It is of little importance to be told 
that the translator means it only in the sense of a reformed 
conduct, proceeding from the influence of a new and a 
right principle within. The common meaning of the word 
will, as in the former instance, be ever and anon intruding 
itself, and get the better of all the formal cautions, and 
all the qualifying clauses of our Bible commentators. 

But will not the original icord itself throw some light 
upon this important question % The repentance which is 
enjoined as a duty — the repentance which is unto salva- 
tion — the repentance which sinners undergo when they 
pass to a state of acceptance with God from a state of 
enmity against him — these are all one and the same thing, 
and are expressed by one and the same word in the ori- 
ginal language of the New Testament. It is different 
from the word which expresses the repentance of sor- 
row; and if translated according to the parts of which 
it is composed, it signifies neither more nor less than a 
change of mind. This of itself is sufficient to p>rove the 
inadequacy of the term reformation — a term which is of 



b THE NATURE AND SEASUX 

ten applied to a man upon the mere change of liis con- 
duct, without ever adverting to the state of his mind, or 
to the kind of change in motive and in principle which it 
has undergone. It is true, that there can be no change 
in the conduct without some change in the inward prin- 
ciple. A reformed drunkard, before careless about health 
or fortune, may be so far changed as to become impressed 
with these considerations ; but this change is evidently 
short of that which the Bible calls repentance towards 
God. It is a change that may, and has taken place in 
many a mind, when there was no effectual sense of the 
God who is above us, and of the eternity which is before 
us. It is a change brought about by the prospect and the 
calculation of worldly advantages, and in the enjoyment 
of these advantages it hath its sole reward. But it is not 
done unto God, and God will not accept of it as done 
unto him. Reformation may signify nothing more than 
the mere surface-dressing of those decencies, and pro- 
prieties, and accomplishments, and civil and prudential 
duties, which, however fitted to secure a man's accept- 
ance in society, may, one and all of them, consist with a 
heart alienated from God, and having every principle and 
affection of the inner man away from him. True, it is 
such a change as the man will reap benefit from, as his 
friends will rejoice in, as the world will call reformation ; 
but it is not such a change as will make him meet for 
heaven ; nor is it, in its import, what our Savior speaks 
of when he says, ** I tell you nay, except ye repent, ye 
shall all likewise perish." 

There is no single word in the English language which 
occurs to us as fully equal to the faithful rendering of 
the term in the original. Renewedjiess of mind, however 
awkward a phrase this may be, is perhaps the most nearly 
expressive of it. Certain it is, that it harmonizes with 
those other passages of the Bible where the process is 
described by which saving repentance is brought about. 



OF REPE\TAi\CE. 7 

We read of being transformed by the renewing of our 
minds, of the renewing of the Holy Ghost, of being re- 
newed in the sj^irit of our minds. Scriptural repentance, 
therefore, is that deep and radical change icherehy a soul 
turns from the idols of sin and of self unto God, and de- 
votes every movement of the inner and the outer man to the 
captivity of his ohedience. This is the change which, whe- 
ther it be expressed by one word or not in the English 
language, w^e would have you well to understand ; and 
reformation or change in the outward conduct, instead 
of being saving and scriptural repentance, is what, in the 
language of John the Baptist, we would call a fruit meet 
for it. 

But if mischief is likely to arise from the want of an 
adequate w^ord in our language to that repentance which is 
unto salvation, there is one effectual preservative against 
it — a firm and consistent exhibition of the whole counsel 
and revelation of God. A man who is well read in his 
New Testament, and reads it with docility, will dismiss 
all his meagre conceptions of repentance when he comes 
to the following statements: "Except a man be born 
again he cannot see the kingdom of God." "Except ye 
be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not 
enter into the kingdom of heaven." " If any man have 
not the Spirit of Christ he is none of his." ** The car- 
nal mind is enmity against God ; and if ye live after the 
flesh ye shall die ; but if ye, through the Spirit, do mor- 
tify the deeds of the body, ye shall live." " Be not then 
conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the 
renewing of your minds." Such are the terms employed 
to describe the process by which the soul of man is re- 
newed unto repentance ; and, with your hearts familia- 
rized to the mighty import of these terms, you will carry 
with you an effectual guarantee against those false and 
flimsy impressions, which are so current in the world, 
about the preparation of a sinner for eternity. 



8 THE NATURE AxN'D SEASON 

We should like, moreover, to reduce every man to the 
feeling of repentance now, or the alternative of repent- 
ance never. We should like to flash it upon your convic- 
tions, that by putting the call away from you now, you 
put your eternity away from you. We should like to ex- 
pose the whole amount of that accursed infatuation which 
lies in delay. We should like to arouse every soul out 
of its lethargies, and give no quarter to the plea of a little 
more sleep, and a little more slumber. We should like 
you to feel as if the whole of your future destiny hinged 
on the very first movement to which you turned your- 
selves. The work of repentance must have a beginning ; 
and we should like you to know, that if not begun to-day, 
the chance will be less of its being begun to-morrow. 
And if the greater chance has failed, what hope can we 
build upon the smaller ] — and a chance, too, that is al- 
ways getting smaller. Each day, as it revolves over the 
sinner's head, finds him a harder, and a more obstinate, 
and a more helplessly enslaved sinner than before. It 
was this consideration which gave Richard Baxter such 
earnestness and such urgency in his Call to the Uncon- 
verted. He knew that the barrier in the way of the sin- 
ner's return is strengthened by every act of resistance to 
the call which urges it ; that a mighty change must take 
place in man ere he can enter into the presence of God ; 
that the time in which, on every plea of duty and of in- 
terest, each individual should bestir himself to secure 
this, is the lyrescnt time ; and the whole drift of his argu- 
ment is to urge an instantaneous choice of the better part^ 
by showing how the sinner multiplies every day the ob- 
stacles to his future repentance, if he begin not the work 
of repentance rtoic. 

We proceed to make some observations on the mis- 
takes concerning repentance which we have endeavored 
to expose, dnd to adduce some arguments for urging on 



OF REPENTAPyiCE. 9 

the consciences of our readers the necessity and im 

PORTANCE OF IMMEDIATE REPENTANCE. 

1. The work of repentance is a work tvhich rmist he done 
ere we die ; for, unless we repent, we shall all likewise 
perish. Now, the easier this work is in our conception, 
we shall think it the less necessary to enter upon it im- 
mediately. We shall look upon it as a work that may be 
done at any time, and therefore put it off a little longer, 
and a little longer. We shall perhaps look forward to 
that retirement from the world and its temptations which 
we figure old age to bring along with it, and falling in 
with the too common idea, that the evenino- of life is the 
appropriate season of preparation for another world, we 
may think that the preacher is bearing too closely and 
too urgently upon us when, in the language of the Bible, 
he speaks of" to-day,"" while it is called to-day, and will let 
us off with no other repentance than repentance ^^noiv,'" 
seeing that noiv only is the accepted time, and now only 
the day of salvation, which he has a warrant to proclaim 
to us. 

This dilatory way of it is very much favored by the 
mistaken and very defective view of repentance w^iich 
we have attempted to expose. We have somehow or 
other got into the delusion that repentance is nothing but 
sorrow; and were we called to fix upon the scene where 
this sorrow is likely to be felt in the degree that it is deep- 
est and most overwhelming, we would point to the cham- 
ber of the dying man. It is awful to think that, generally 
speaking, this repentance of mere sorrow is the only re- 
pentance of a death-bed. Yes, wo shall meet with sensi- 
bility deep enough and painful enough there — with re- 
gret in all its bitterness — with terror mustering up its 
images of despair, and dwelling upon them in all the 
gloom of an affrighted imagination ; and this is mistaken 
not merely for the drapery of repentance, but for the 
very substance of it. We look forward, and we count 

VOL. XI. 40 



10 THE NATURE AND SEASON 

upon this — that tlie sins of a life are to be expunged by 
the sighing and sorrowing of the last days of it. We 
should give up this wretchedly supei-ficial notion of re- 
pentance, and cease from this moment to be led astray 
by it. The mind may sorrow over its corruptions at the 
very time that it is under the power of them. A man 
may weep most bitterly over the perversities of his moral 
constitution ; but to change that constitution, under the 
workings of the Holy Spirit, is a different affair. Now, 
this is the mighty work of repentance : — He who has un- 
dergone it is no longer the servant of sin. He dies unto 
sin, he lives unto God. A sense of the authority of God 
is ever present with him, to wield the ascendancy of a 
great master-principle over all his movements — to call 
forth every purpose, and to carry it forward, through all 
the opposition of sin and of Satan, into accomplishment. 
This is the grand revolution in the state of the mind 
which repentance brings along with it. To grieve be- 
cause this work is not done, is a very different thing from 
the doing of it. A death-bed is the very best scene for 
acting the first, but it is the very worst for acting the se- 
cond. The repentance of Judas has often been acted 
there. We ought to think of the work in all its magni- 
tude, and not to put it off to that awful period when the 
soul is crowded with other things, and has to maintain its 
weary struggle with the pains, and the distresses, and tlie 
shiverings, and the breathless agonies of a death-bed. 

2. There are two views that may be taken of the way 
in which repentance is brought about, and whichever of 
them is adopted, delay carries along with it the saddest 
infatuation. It may be looked upon as a step taken Lf/ 
man as a voluntary agent, and we would ask you, upon 
your experience of the powers and the performances of 
humanity, if a death-bed is the time for taking such a step ? ' 
Is this a time for a voluntary being exercising a vigorous 
control over his own movements'? when racked with pain 



OF RErENTANCE. 11 

and borne down by the pressure of a sore and overwhelm- 
ing calamity 1 Surely the greater the work of repentance 
is, the more ease, the more time, the more freedom from 
suffering is necessary for carrying it on ; and therefore 
addressing you as voluntary beings, as beings who will 
and who do, we call upon you to seek God early that you 
may find him — to haste, and make no delay in keeping 
his commandments. 

The other view is, that repentance is not a self-origina- 
ting work in man, but the ivorh of the Holy Spirit in him 
as the subject of its influences. This view is not oppo- 
site to the former. It is true that man wills and does at 
every step in the business of his salvation ; and it is as 
true that God works in him so to will and to do. Take 
this last view of it then. Look on repentance as the work 
of God's Spirit in the soul of man, and we are furnished 
with a more impressive argument than ever, and set on 
higher vantage for urging you to stir yourselves and set 
about it immediately. What is it that you propose % To 
keep by your present habits and your present indulgences, 
and build yourselves up all the while in the confidence 
that the Spirit will interpose with his mighty power of 
conversion upon you, at the very point of time that you 
have fixed upon as convenient and agreeable % And how 
do you conciliate the Spirit's answer to your call then ] 
Why, by doing all you can to grieve, and to quench, and 
to provoke him to abandon you now. Do you feel a mo- 
tion toward repentance at this moment % If you keep it 
alive and act upon it, good and well. But if you smother 
and suppress this motion, you resist the Spirit — you stifle 
his movements within you ; it is what the impenitent do 
day after day and year after year : and is this the way 
for securing the influences of the Spirit at the time that 
you would like them best % when you are done with the 
world, and are looking forward to eternity because you 
cannot help it ] God says, " My Spirit shall not always 



12 THE NATURE AND SEASON 

Strive with man." A good and a free Spirit he undoubt- 
edly is, and as a proof of it, he is now saying, " Let who- 
soever will, come and take the water of life freely." He 
says so now, but we do not promise that he will say so 
with effect upon your death-beds, if you refuse him now. 
You look forward then for a powerful work of conversion 
being done upon you, and yet you employ yourselves all 
your life long in raising and multiplying obstacles against 
it. You count upon a miracle of grace before you die, 
and the w^ay you take to make yourselves sure of it, is to 
grieve and offend Him while you live who alone can per- 
form the miracle. O what cruel deceits will sin land us 
in ! and how artfully it pleads for a " little more sleep, 
and a little more slumber; a little more folding of the 
hands to sleep." We should hold out no longer, nor make 
such an abase of the forbearance of God : we shall trea- 
sure up wrath against the day of wrath if we do so. The 
genuine effect of his goodness is to lead us to repentance ; 
let not its effect upon us be to harden and encourage our- 
selves in the ways of sin. We should cry now for the 
clean heart and the right spirit ; and such is the exceed- 
ing freeness of the Spirit of God, that we shall be listened 
to. If we put off the cry till then, the same God may 
laugh at our calamity, and mock wdien our fear cometh. 
3. Our next argument for immediate repentance is, 
that we cannot bring forward, at any future period of 
your history, any considerations of a more prevailing or 
more powerfully moving influence than those we may 
bring forward at this moment. We can tell you now of 
the terrors of the Lord — we can tell you now of the so 
lemn mandates which have issued from his throne, and 
the authority of which is upon one and all of you. We 
can tell you now, that though in this dead and darkened 
world sin appears but a very trivial affair — for every body 
sins, and it is shielded from execration by the universal 
countenance of an entire species lying in wickedness — 



OF REPENTANCE. 13 

yet it holds true of God, what is so emphatically said of 
him, that he cannot be mocked, nor will he endure it that 
you should riot in the impunity of your wilful resistance 
to him and to his warnings. We can tell you now, that 
he is a God of vengeance ; and though, for a season, he 
is keeping back all the thunder of it from a world that 
he would reclaim unto himself, yet if you j^ut all his ex- 
postulations away from you, and will not be reclaimed, 
these thunders will be let loose upon you, and they will 
fall on your guilty heads, armed with tenfold energy, be- 
cause you have not only defied his threats, but turned 
your back on his offers of reconciliation. These are the 
arguments by which we would try to open our way to 
your consciences, and to awaken up your fears, and to 
put the inspiring activity of hope into your bosoms, by 
laying before you those invitations which are addressed 
to the sinner through the peace speaking blood of Jesus, 
and, in the name of a beseeching God, to win your ac- 
ceptance of them. 

At no future period can we address arguments more 
powerful and more affecting than these. If these argu- 
ments do not prevail upon you, we know of none others 
by which a victory over the stubborn and uncomplying 
will can be accomplished, or by which we can ever hope 
to beat in that sullen front of resistance wherewith you 
now so impregnably withstand us. We feel as if on your 
present purpose hung all the preparations of your future 
life, and all the rewards or all the horrors of your coming 
eternity. We cannot let you off" with any other repent- 
ance than repentance now ; and if this be refused now, 
we cannot, with our eyes open to the consideration we 
have now urged, that the instrument we can make to bear 
upon you hereafter is not more powerful than we may 
wield now, coupled with another consideration which we 
shall insist upon, that the subject on which the instrument 
worlieth, even the heart of man, gathers by every act of 

VOL. XI. 40* 



i^ THE NATURE AND SEASOxX 

resistance a more uncomplying obstinacy than before ; we 
cannot, with these two thoughts in our mind, look for- 
ward to your future history without seeing spread over 
the whole path of it the iron of a harder impenitency, the 
sullen gloom of a deeper and more determined ahenation. 
4. Another argument, therefore, for immediate repent- 
ance is, that the mind which resists a present call or a 
present reproof, undergoes a jpi'ogrcssive hardening to- 
ward all those considerations which arm the call of re- 
pentance with all its energy. It is not enough to say that 
the instrument by which repentance is brought about is 
not more powerful to-morrow than it is to-day; it lends 
a most tremendous weight to the argument, to say fur- 
ther, that the subject on which this instrument is putting 
forth its efficiency will oppose a firmer resistance to-mor- 
row than it does to-day. It is this which gives a signifi- 
cancy so powerful to the call of " To-day, while it is to- 
day, harden not your hearts ;" and to the admonition of 
" Knowest thou not, O man, that the goodness of God 
leadeth thee to repentance ; but after, thy hardness and 
impenitent heart treasurest up wrath against the day of 
wrath and revelation of the righteous judgments of God 1" 
It is not said, either in the one or in the other of these 
passages, that, by the present refusal, you cut yourself 
off from a future invitation. The invitation may be sound- 
ed in your hearing to the last half hour of your earthly 
existence, enuraved in all those characters of free and 
gratuitous kindness which mark the beneficent religion 
of the New Testament. But the present refusal hardens 
you against the power and tenderness of the future invi- 
tation. This is the fact in human nature to which these 
passages seem to point, and it is the fact through which 
the argument for immediate repentance receives such 
powerful aid from the wisdom of experience. It is this 
which forms the most impressive proof of the necessity 
of plying the young with all the weight and all the ten- 



OF UEPEiXTANCE. 15 

derness of earnest admonition, that the now susceptible 
mind might not turn into a substance harder and more 
uncomplying than the rock which is broken in pieces by 
llie powerful application of the hammer of the word of 
God. 

The metal of the human soul, so to, speak, is like some 
material substances. If the force you lay upon it do nol 
break it or dissolve it, it will beat it into hardness. If the 
moral argument by which it is plied now do not so soften 
the mind as to carry and to overpower its purposes, then, 
on another day, the argument may be put forth in terms 
as impressive, but it falls on a harder mind, and therefore 
with a more slender efficiency. If the threat, that ye who 
persist in sin shall have to dwell with the devouring fire, 
and to lie down amid everlasting burnings, do not alarm 
you out of your iniquities from this very moment, then 
the same threat may be again cast out, and the same ap- 
palling circumstances of terror be thrown around it, but 
it is all discharged on a soul hardened by its inurement 
to the thunder of denunciations already uttered, and the 
urgency of menacing threatenings already poured forth 
without fruit and without efficacy. If the voice of a be- 
seeching God do not win upon you now, and charm you 
out of your rebellion against him by the persuasive ener- 
gy of kindness, then let that voice be lifted in your hear- 
ing on some future day, and though armed with all the 
power of tenderness it ever had, how shall it find its en- 
trance into a heart sheathed by the operation of labit, 
that universal law, in more impenetrable obstinacy] If 
with the earliest dawn of your understanding you have 
been offered the hire of the morning laborer and have 
refused it, then the parable does not say that you are the 
person who at the third, or sixth, or ninth, or eleventh 
hour will get the offer repeated to you. It is true, that 
the offer is unto all and upon all who are within reach of 
the hearing of it. But there is all the difference in the 



IG TJiE NATUKL AND SEASON 

world between the impression of a new ofter, and of an 
ofier that has already been often heard and as often re- 
jected — an offer which comes upon you with all the fa- 
miliarity of a well-known sound that you have already 
learned how to dispose of, and how to shut your every 
feeling against the power of its gracious invitations — an 
offer which, if discarded from your hearts at the present 
moment, may come back upon you, but which will have 
to maintain a more unequal contest than before, with an 
impenitency ever strengthening, and ever gathering new 
hardness from each successive act of resistance. And 
thus it is that the point for which we are contending is 
not to carry you at some future period of your lives, but 
to carry you at this moment. It is to work in you the in- 
stantaneous purpose of a firm and a vigorously sustained 
repentance ; it is to put into you all the freshness of an 
immediate resolution, and to stir you up to all the readi- 
ness of an immediate accomplishment — it is to give di- 
rection to the very first footstep you are now to take, and 
lead you to take it as the commencement of that holy ca- 
reer in which all old things are done away, and all things 
become new — it is to press it upon you, that the state of 
the alternative, at this moment, is now or never — it is to 
prove how fearful the odds are against you, if now you 
suffer the call of repentance to light upon your con- 
sciences, and still keep by your determined posture of 
careless, and thoughtless, and thankless unconcern about 
God. You have resisted to-day, and by that resistance 
you have acquired a firmer metal of resistance against 
the power of every future warning that may be brought 
lo bear upon you. You have stood your ground against 
the urgency of the most earnest admonitions, and against 
the dreadfulness of the most terrifying menaces. On that 
gi'ound you have fixed yourself more immovably than be- 
fore ; and though on some future day the same spiritual 
thunder be made to play around you, it will not shake 



OF REPENTANCE. 17 

you out of the obstinacy of your determined rebellion. 

It is the universal law of habit, that the feelings are 
always getting more faintly anJ feebly impressed by every 
repetition of the cause which excited them, and that the 
mind is always getting stronger in its active resistance- to 
the impulse of these feelings by every new deed of re- 
sistance which it performs; and thus it is, that if you re- 
fuse us now we have no other prospect before us than 
that your course is every day getting more desperate and 
more irrecoverable, your souls are getting more hardened, 
the Spirit is getting more provoked to abandon those who 
have so long persisted in their opposition to his move 
ments. God, who says that his Spirit shall not ahvay> 
strive witn man, is getting more offended. The tyranny 
of habit is getting every day a firmer ascendancy over 
you ; Satan is getting you more helplessly involved among 
his wiles and his entanglements ; the world, with all the 
inveteracy of those desires which are opposite to the will 
of the Father, is more and more lording it over your 
every affection. And what, we would ask, what is the 
scene in which you are now purposing to contest it, with 
all this mighty force of opposition you are now so busy 
in raising up against you 1 What is the field of combat 
to which you are now looking forward, as the place where 
you are to accomplish a victory over all those formidable 
enemies whom you are at present arming with such a 
weight of hostility, as, we say, within a single hair-breadth 
of certainty, you will find to be irresistible 1 O the big- 
ness of such a misleading infatuation ! 

The proposed scene in which this battle for eternity is 
to be fought, and this victory for a crown of glory is to 
be won, is a deatli-hed. It is when the last messenger 
stands by the couch of the dying man, and shakes at him 
th-e terrors of his grisly countenance, that the poor child 
of infatuation thinks he is to struggle and prevail against 
all his enemies ; against the unrelenting tyranny of habit 



18 THE NATURE Ai\D SEASON 

— against the obstinacy of his own heart, which he is now 
doing so much to harden — against the Spirit of God, who 
perliaps long ere now has pronounced the doom upon 
him, " He will take his own way, and walk in his own 
counsel ; I shall cease from striving, and let him alone " 
— against Satan, to whom every day of his life h-e has 
given some fresh advantage over him, and who will not 
be willing to lose the victim on whom he has practised so 
many wiles, and whom he has successfully plied with so 
many delusions. And such are the enemies whom you, 
who wretchedly calculate on the repentance of the ele- 
venth hour, are every day mustering up in greater force 
and formidableness against you ; and how can we think 
of letting you go with any other repentance than the re- 
pentance of the precious moment that is now passing 
over you, when we look forward to the horrors of that 
impressive scene on which you propose to win the prize 
of immortality, and to contest it single-handed and alone, 
with all the weight of opposition which you have accumu- 
lated against yourselves — a death-bed — a languid, breath- 
less, tossing and agitated death-bed ; that scene of feeble- 
ness, when the poor man cannot help himself to a single 
mouthful — when he must have attendants to sit around 
him, and watch his every wish, and interpret his every 
signal, and turn him to every posture where he may find 
a moment's ease, and wipe away the cold sweat that is 
running over him — and ply him with cordials for thirst, 
and sickness, and insufferable languor. And this is the 
time, when occupied with such feelings, and beset with 
such agonies as these, you propose to crowd within the 
compass of a few wretched days the work of winding up 
the concerns of a neglected eternity! 

5. But it may be said, ** If repentance be what you re- 
present it, — a thing of such mighty import, and such im- 
practicable performance, as a change of mi7id, — in what 
rational way can it be made the subject of a precept or 



OF REPENTANCE. 19 

injunction'? you would not call upon the Ethiopian to 
change his skin — you would not call upon the leopard to 
change his spots, and yet you call upon us to change oui 
minds. You say repent, and that too in the face of the 
undeniable doctrine, that man is without strength for the 
achievement of so mighty an enterprise. Can you tell us 
any plain and practicable thing that you would have us 
to perform, and that we may perform, to help on this 
business ]" 

This is the very question with which the hearers of 
John the Baptist came back upon him, after he had told 
them in general terms to repent, and to bring forth fruits 
meet for repentance. He may not have resolved the dif- 
ficulty, but he pointed the expectation of his countrymen 
to a greater than he for the solution of it. Now that 
Teacher has already come, and we live under the full 
and the finished splendor of his revelation. O that the 
greatness and difficulty of the work of repentance had 
the effect of shutting you up into the faith of Christ ! 
Repentance is not a paltry, superficial reformation. It 
reaches deep into the inner man, but not too deep for the 
searching influences of that Spirit which is at his giving, 
and which worketh mightily in the hearts of believers. 
You should go then under a sense of your difficulty to 
Him. Seek to be rooted in the Savior, that you may be 
nourished out of his fulness and strengthened by his 
might. The simple cry for a clean heart and a right sj^irit 
which is raised from the mouth of a believer, brings down 
an answer from on high which explains all the difficulty 
and overcomes it. And if what we have said of the ex- 
tent and magnitude of repentance should have the effect 
to give a deeper feeling than before of the wants under 
which you labor, and shall dispose you to seek after a 
closer and more habitual union with Him who alone can 
supply them, then will our call to repent have indeed ful- 
filled upon you the appointed end of a preparation for 
the Savior. 



20 THE NATURE AND SEASOJV OF REPENTANCE. 

But recollect now is your time, and now is your oppor- 
tunity, for entering on the road of preparation that leads 
lo heaven. We charge you to enter this road at this mo- 
ment, as you value your deliverance from hell and your 
})Ossession of that blissful place where you shall be for 
ever with the Lord ; we charge you not to parry a i to 
delay this matter, no not for a single hour; we call on 
you, by all that is great in eternity — by all that is terrify- 
ing in its horrors — by all that is alluring in its rewards — 
by all that is binding in the authority of God — by all that 
is condemning in the severity of his violated law, and by 
all that can aggravate this condemnation in the insulting 
contempt of his rejected GosDel ; we call on you by one 
and all of tnese consmerations not to hesitate, but to flee 
— not to purpose a return for to-morrow, but to make an 
actual return this very day — to put a decisive end to every 
plan of wickedness on wmcn you may have entered — to 
cease your hands from all that is forbidden — to turn them 
to all that is required — to betake yourselves to the ap- 
pointed Mediator, and receive through him, by the prayer 
of faith, such constant supplies of the washing of regene- 
ration and renewing of the Holy Ghost, that, from this 
moment, you may be carried forward from one degree 
of grace unto another, and from a life devoted to God 
here, to the elevation of a triumphant, and the joys of a 
blissful eternity hereafter. 



IVo. 471. 

MEMOIR 

OF 

SAMUEL F. BRADBURY 



Samuel F. Bradbury was born in Hollis, New Hamp- 
shire, December 25, 1806. He early lost his father, and 
though blessed in childhood with the instructions of a pious 
mother, yet upon being exposed to the temptations of the 
world, he laid aside his Bible, turned his back upon the ordi- 
nances of the sanctuary, and soon learned to treat the law 
of God with contempt. Having chosen that path of conduct 
which the holy morality of the Scriptures condemns, his next 
step was to reason himself into the belief that the Bible is 
not the word of God, but an ingenious imposture. He even 
tried to believe that there is no God, and no hereafter. 

In November, 1830, he wrote to his sister, "For two 
years past my life has been a scene of trials and misfortunes 
not incident to young men generally. But I have affected 
to be as happy as the happiest, and have so far succeeded in 
my endeavors to deceive my friends, that I think not even 
you have mistrusted that I was troubled in mind. I am well 
aware of the anxiety which our mother feels for her wild 
and thoughtless' children, as well she may ; she is, however, 
ignorant of what some of them endure, and I desire that she 
ever may be." Again he says, " I consider this guilty con- 
science as a punishment fully adequate to atone for my sins, 
and I beheve there is to be no punishment in a future state 
of existence — if iiideed there he any such state, as super- 
stition, ignorance, and priestcraft have had the hardihood to 
declare, instilling into the minds of iimocent and inoffensive 
youth the idea that they must experience a change of heart, 
or hell awaits them. Horrible, that such a notion should 
be tolerated in a land of civilization and freedom." Under 

VOL. XI. 41 



2 MEMOIR OF SAMUEL F. BRADBURY. 

another date he ^\Tites, "Every thing beyond this life is 
vague speculation, and I consider time wasted that is spent 
in worshipping God through the agency of any mortal like 
myself TJiat I shall die as I noiv believe, I have not the 
dightest doubt.'''' 

In the month of July, 1841, symptoms of disease had so 
far manifested themselves as to lead his friends to fear that 
his days were nimibered. The deep-rooted opposition which 
at this time he exhibited towards religious truth will be 
learned from a letter then WTitten by one of his sisters to 
another sister : " Brother is evidently failing fast ; I think 
that he must soon exchange worlds. He is the most wretched 
being I ever knew. This world has lost all its charms for 
him ; and as he looks down the future, all is darkness, doubt, 
and despair. He seems like one whose conscience upbraids 
and reproaches him ; his nights are painful and sleepless ; 
he tells me thathe reallj dreads to have them come. He 
says religion f^'roade'^TTti perfectly wretched all your days : 
as it was utterly impossible for you to live up to what you 
profess to believe, you were in constant fear lest you should 
be cut down and sent to hell. ' My good sense,' he added, 
' has taught me better than to embrace such cursed doctrine 
as that.' ' But,' I replied, ' the Spirit of God can work a 
mighty change in your feelings and belief, and fit you for 
usefulness in this world, and for peace and happiness in that 
Avhich is to come.' ' Say nothing to me of that,' was his 
reply ; ' my character is fixed for time, and for eternity as you 
term it, and it is not in the power of any agency to alter it. 
It is my request that you would never mention this subject 
to me again, as I am fully convinced that neither you, nor 
myself, nor any other person, knows any thing of the other 
world, if there is any.' I retired to my room," she adds, 
" but not to sleep. The early part of the night was spent in 
weeping and praying for my poor unhappy brother. My 
faith is weak : it does seem that God has passed him by." • 

Mr. Bradburj^'s life was spared till the opening of the 
vear 1842. when about four weeks before his death the 



MEMOIR OF SAMUEL F. BRADBURY. 3 

writer saw him for the first time. It had for some days 
been evident to his friends that he was afraid of his own 
thoughts, and anxious to have his attention distracted from 
the sad reflections upon the past, and the gloomy foreboding 
of the future, which preyed upon his mind. But pride and 
a rebellious will still struggled mightily, and with a convul- 
sive effort he strove to maintain his consistency as an unbe- 
liever, and verify his confident prediction that he should die 
as he had lived. 

Upon being questioned as to his views of religion, he 
positively declined any conversation on the subject ; and 
when prayer was proposed, he at first refused, but afterwards 
consented that a petition should be offered. But from this 
hour his feelings became too powerful to be restrained ; for, 
immediately upon my leaving the room, he anxiously in- 
quired of a friend, " Do you think that I shall die, and perish 
like the brute ?" On being answered in the negative, he 
added, " that I had become a Christian when I was young ; 
I think that I should have been a much happier man. Even 
if there is no hereafter, it would be wiser, in order to make 
the most of this life." 

Towards evening he expressed the wish to see me again, 
remarking, " I desire to have my understanding convinced ; 
I do not wish to believe through weakness." I passed the 
hour of twilight by his bedside, listening to and endeavoring 
to meet the objections to the Christian faith with which he 
had stored his mind. There was no view of the evidences 
of Christianity which seemed to impress him so deeply as 
the exhibition of its adaptedness to his situation as a dying 
and helpless sinner ; and it was very observable how, as his 
convictio7is of sin deepened, as he began to get a clearer in- 
sight into his necessities, the frostwork of his unbelief grad- 
ually melted away. He seemed at once to be driven from 
those false refuges to which he had heretofore clung. As 
soon as I had left his side, he observed, " My sins are so great 
that I must perish ; God can never forgive me." It was 
said to him, " If you will come to Christ, his blood is suffi- 



4 MEMOIR OF SAMUEL F. BRADBURY. 

cient to wash away all sins;" upon which he continued, 
"nWIII you pray with me, and pray that I may know how to 
come to him and seek forgiveness?" 

For several days he continued to be exercised with the 
deepest convictions of sin, dw^elling continually upon his past 
unbelief, his neglect of God, his treatment of those who 
would have won his soul back to the truth, especially upon 
his disregard of the religious instructions of his childhood. He 
often spoke of the contrast between the early days of his life, 
when he could enjoy the comfort of a quiet conscience, and 
the scenes of late years, when the contaminating influences 
of infidel and vicious companions had soiled the purity of his 
Hfe and poisoned the fountams of true happiness. " My 
sins," he would exclaim, " are like the sands on the sea- 
shore : I have been simiing all my life ; God can never for- 
give me." " I am almost gone," he observed to me, " the 
sands of life are almost run out, and I must die without hav- 
ing been of any service to the world." " I have lived thir- 
ty-five years," he said, addressing a relative, " and though I 
have been surrounded with the beauty and perfection of na- 
ture, I have been constantly saying, There is no God." 
" Strange," he often exclaimed, " strange that I should ever 
have thought there is no God." "I have lived like a fool ; 
like a fool " he would add, with peculiar emphasis. 

On Thursday he remarked, " I find no peace yet ; it is 
an awful thing to put off repentance until a death-bed." 

I shall not soon forget the scenes of suffering through 
which this sick man passed during those days when the 
pangs of a troubled conscience pierced his soul, and without 
a ray of light to cheer the gloom, he walked through the 
dark valley of the shadow of spiritual death. " Fearfulness 
and trembling came upon him, and horror overwhelmed 
him. His iniquities went over his head ; his burden was 
too heavy for him to bear." 

From his long neglect of the Bible, and of the public 
services of the sanctuary, it seemed for a time a difficult 
matter to convey to his mind a distinct conception of 'the 



MEMOIR OF SAMUEL ¥. BRADBURY. 5 

offices of Christ and his relation to the sinner. The charac- 
ter and sufferings of Jesus, and the great purpose of these 
sufferings, seemed in a measure to have faded from his mem- 
ory. " What a poor sinner I am," he once observed ; "I 
wish I knew how to come to the Saviour. Can you give 
me a hope in Christ ?" He was told that his earthly friends 
could do nothing for him ; that he must come to Christ just 
as he Avas, for Christ alone could forgive and speak peace to 
the penitent and heart-broken sinner. 

But the hour of his deliverance drew near. The light 
gradually dawned upon his benighted soul, and he began to 
dwell upon the mercy of God, and to look to him as a prayer- 
hearing and sin-pardoning God. He began to feel that per- 
haps he might be admitted into the kingdom of Christ, though 
he came at the eleventh hour. He became conscious of a 
principle of faith, by which he was enabled to commit him- 
self for time and for eternity into the hands of his Saviour, 
and confide all his interests to that Saviour's keepmg. 1 
well remember the glow upon his countenance when, on 
entering his room in the morning, I said to him, "I trust 
the Saviour has been with you during the night." He re- 
plied with great earnestness, " yes, sir, I have him I I have 
him I He has been with me all the night." And through 
the tedious watches of that night, being racked with tortur- 
ing pains, he would frequently exclaim, " My Saviour suffered 
more than all this for me, a miserable sinner I" 

On the coming Sabbath he observed, " This is the Lord's 
day, the first Sabbath that I ever spent with any feeling that 
it was better than any other day. 0, if God would spai'e 
my life and restore my health, what delight I should take in 
going up to his house with my dear family. But alas, that 
can never be ; I must die, and leave only a wicked example 
behind me." He was then reminded that God might glorify 
himself by him more truly in the few days that he should be 
spared, than by a whole life of Christian obedience. " Then," 
said he, "by God's grace assisting me, I will be faithful 
unto the end." 

VOL. XI. 41* 



6 MEMOIR OF .SAMUEL F. BRAUBLRV. 

The solicitude which, from the moment he began to care 
for his own soul, he manifested for the salvation of others, 
was very striking. After remarking, towards the close of the 
day, to one of his friends, " I have passed the happiest after- 
noon of my life," he adverted to the case of a near relative, 
and said, " I wish that he would go with his family to church, 
and attend on the means of grace, that he may be in the 
way of becoming a Christian, and bring up his family for 
God." And during the few days of his life which remained, 
he did not cease to exhort with tears, all with whom he 
came in contact, to make their peace with God. " I would 
like," he said, " to see all my impenitent friends, that I might 
warn them not to put off repentance to a death-bed." In 
adverting to the case of certain near and dear connections 
who he thought were not prepared for death, he seemed at 
times almost overwhelmed ; but then he would add, " The 
grace of God is sufficient for them ; I will resign them into 
his hands." On another occasion he said, "Would that I 
could see all my profligate companions, that I might warn 
them of death, judgment, and eternity. "VVlien shall I meet 
them ? God, forgive their sins I" 

He would often exclaim, " How great is the mercy of God, 
to save such a sinner as I am. Six months, if God would 
give it me, would be of more value than all my life has been. 
But," he added, " I would only ask it that I might spend the 
time in his service. I think I could be happy in a hovel, if 
I could be spared to serve God." 

For some days after he began to hope that his sins were 
forgiven, he was subject to occasional seasons of depression, 
when his views of the Saviour became indistinct and unsat- 
isfactory ; but as he attained a clearer knowledge of the way 
of salvation, and of the rich provisions of mercy in Jesus 
Christ, his doubts and fears were removed, and on the Fri- 
day night before his death, he was heard to say, " My faith 
is strong to-night ; I can see the Saviour coming in the 
clouds." So far from manifesting any disposition to murmur 
under the severe bodily pains with which he was afflicted, 



MEMOIR OF SAMUEL F. BRADBURY. 7 

he seemed rather inclined to look upon his agonies as the 
just recompense of his past sins. One of his friends remarks,' 
" On the Sabbath before his death my feelings were over- 
come at the sight of his agonies. I went to his bedside, and 
taking his hand, said, ' Your sufferings are great indeed. 
Does it seem to you just ? Do you feel any disposition to 
complain V '0 no,' he replied, ' I think of the years that I 
have passed in sin. God has suffered me to live a long while 
having my own way, seeking my own pleasure ; these suf- 
ferings are but little compared with my transgressions.' " 

At 12 o'clock, the night before his death, he was asked, 
" Do you not think that you have got almost through — 
almost home ?" He replied in the affirmative ; and upon 
the question being put to him, " Do you feel ready ?" he 
responded, " yes, to-night, to-night, if it be the will of God. 
I feel that God has forgiven all my sins and iniquities." He 
then engaged in prayer audibly, and after speaking of Christ, 
of his going into the garden to pray, and of his agony there, ^ 
which, said he, " he bore for poor sinners," he gradually sunk 
into a state of torpor, and on Wednesday morning, February 
9, his spirit took its flight to the eternal world. 

" But being dead, he yet speaketh." The confessions of 
his dying bed speak to us ; and what do they declare ? 

They declare that the secret of infidelity is to be found 
in an evil heart of unbelief — an unwillingness to yield to 
the strict and holy requisitions of the Gospel. It is siii 
that blinds the reason, prevents the mind from yielding 
to the evidences of Christianity, turns away the man from 
religious truth, and leads him into the mazes of error and 
infidelity. 

They declare again, that the ivay of the transgressor is 
hard — that he who has no fear of God before his eyes can- 
not be happy. " I look around among my former associates," 
said he, "and I see that they lack something — they are not 
happy. How much more pleasantly they would live if they 
possessed religion." " How much happier should I have 
been, if I had taken my little ones and gone to the house of 



8 MEMOIR OF SAMLEL F. BRADBURY. 

God those pleasant Sunday mornings, instead of idling away 
the hours of the Sabbath." 

This death-bed repentance speaks to us ; and what does 
it declare ? It solemnly cautions us against deferring re- 
pe?ita7ice to that trying hour. Though he felt that at last 
he found mercy, he has left us his solemn testimony that it 
is a poor time, when the body is torn Avith pain, and the mind 
weakened and distracted, to enter upon the great work of 
submitting the soul to God. 

This narrative further teaches us the power of a Chris- 
tian hope to produce peace and resignation of mind under 
the most appalling outward circumstances. When our de- 
parted friend first became conscious that he must die, the 
thought filled him with horror ; and yet, after he had ob- 
tained peace with God, he was able to say, in the midst of 
all his sufferings and with the grave opening at his feet, " I 
have passed the happiest afternoon of my life." Yes, he was 
happier in the prospect of leaving the world, than he ever 
was while living in the world, and in the pursuit of all its 
sinful pleasures. Remember this confession — a confession 
made when there was no longer any temptation to deceive ; 
a confession made in that honest hour M^hen he was daily 
looking to be summoned to the immediate presence of God. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 473. 



ESAU 



THE RUINOUS BARGAIN 



The history of the wicked as well as the righteous is 
useful. By their crimes we are cautioned, by their miseries 
warned. Hence, the apostle points us to the case of Esau : 
*' Lest there be any fornicator, or profane person, as Esau, 
who for one morsel of meat sold his birthright. For ye 
know how that afterward, when he would have inherited 
the blessing, he was rejected ; for he found no place of re- 
pentance, though he sought it carefully with tears." Heb. 
12: 16, 17. 

Does any one ask, "VYhat is all this to me ? I answer, 
much, every way, and beg your serious consideration while 
I compare your privileges with those of Esau, your sin with 
his sin, and your doom with his. 

1. Look at the history of Esau, and compare your pri\'I- 
LEGES WITH HIS. To Stand supreme in the house of Isaac 
was no trifling prerogative. His house was "the house of 
God, and the gate of heaven." In this family Jehovah re- 
vealed himself; here he was adored and served, while idol- 
atry prevailed over all the nations of the globe. In this 
family Esau possessed the birthright. To the birthright 
belonged preeminence over the other branches of the family. 
To the birthright belonged a double portion of the paternal 
inheritance ; and to the birthright was added the honor of 
receiving from the mouth of the father a peculiar benedic- 



2 ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 

tion, which, proceeding from the spirit of prophecy, was never 
pronounced in vain. Such were the prospects of Esau. 

And what are yours? It is true, you were not born in 
the house of Isaac, but you were born in a Christian coun- 
try, in a land the Lord careth for, where "the darkness is 
past, and the true Hght now shineth." Perhaps pious par- 
ents early and solemnly dedicated you in faith to God the 
Father, Son, and Spirit, that you might be wholly his. You 
have the Bible, the word of God, "which is able to make 
you wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ 
Jesus." You have Sabbaths, which you are commanded to 
keep holy, and employ in religious worship and obedience ; 
sanctuaries, for devotion and instruction ; ordinances, as well- 
springs of salvation ; a throne of grace, whence to seek tem- 
poral and spiritual blessings. A compassionate Saviour 
offers his pardoning grace, and tenderly entreats you to come 
to him and live ; and the Holy Spirit has been striving with 
your conscience, urging you to walk in the path of duty. 
The richest enjoyment is proffered to you in the smiles of a 
covenant God and the sweet consolations of the divine 
promises; but the greatest blessings are reserved for the 
future state of being. You have the offer of becoming a 
kind of first-fruit of his creatures — of belonging to "the 
general assembly and church of the first-born, whose names 
are written in heaven" — a primogeniture whose privileges 
far surpass those of the son of Isaac ; a birthright that com- 
prehends a better country than Canaan, even a heavenly, 
where we shall be "kings and priests unto God," "where 
the Lord commandeth his blessing, even life for evermore." 

But these honors and privileges are not for those who 
reject them, but for those who, like the wise merchant, are 
willing to sell all that they have and buy the inestimable 
treasure. They may be sacrificed ; and thousands of reckless 
beings, like Esau, barter away their blessings for a trifle. 

2. Compare your sin ^\^TH Esau's sin. "For one mor- 
sel of meat, he sold his birthright." 



ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 3 

It is obvious that this surrender m- as voluntary. No one 
forced it from him — he sold it. He was indeed tempted to 
part with it by hunger and the sight of pottage when he 
was faint. An object was before him which promised an 
immediate but a momentary indulgence. But he could very 
soon have obtained food upon far easier terms. And surely 
the birthright could not have a rival in a mess of pottage. 
Where was reason ? Was the man compelled to sacrifice 
his claims to sensual appetite ? 

And who compels you to neglect the great salvation ; 
to reject the calls and warnings and means afforded ; to 
abandon your hopes of heaven, and barter away the crown 
of life? Who forces you into perdition? Do you say that 
you live in a world full of enticing objects — that the do- 
minion of sense is strong — ^that it is not easy to resist the 
impulse of the moment ? But is it impossible to resist ? 
Have not many overcome, though placed in the same cir- 
cumstances and possessed of the same nature with you ? 
What is goodness untried ? Have you not reason as well 
as appetite ? And is not grace attainable through God's 
blessing, and in God's way ; and when attained, will it not be 
sufficient for you ? And remember, you can never have so 
strong a motive to commit sin as to avoid it. The greatest 
difficulties you have to overcome, are those which are placed 
to keep you from hell. What is the applause of a fellow- 
man to the frown of the Almighty ? What is a momentary 
pleasure to endless pain ? And you know and feel that you 
act freely ; you know that all the men in the world cannot 
force you to will ; you know that even the tempter can do 
nothing more than propose. The determination rests with 
you. You cannot justify yourself even now to your own 
conscience; and hereafter, unable to allege one excuse, you 
will be "speechless." Yes, here is the true cause of your 
ruin: "Ye will not come unto me, that ye might have life." 
You have loved idols, and after them you will go. 

The surrender of Esau was also base. What is the 



4 ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 

price of the birthright ? Is it an empire, a crowai, which 
often sparkles in the eye of ambition, and is the pimiacle of 
human pride ? No ; it is but a despicable trifle, one morsel 
of meat, a mess of pottage ! The dearest dish, says one, 
that was ever purchased, except the forbidden fruit. 

But are not you guilty of greater extravagance and folly ? 
For what do you sell the precious treasures of the soul and 
eternity, but a thing of naught? a fleeting indulgence — a 
false point of honor — an imaginary interest — a little of this 
world's gain or pleasure. Here is your eternal infamy and 
disgrace. "Ye have sold yourselves for naught," saith 'the 
prophet ; for what proportion is there between the things 
you thus exchange ? The unsearchable riches of Christ ; 
to be blessed with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places ; 
to be a child of God, enjoy pure and substantial pleasure, 
die in peace and hope, and obtain glory, honor, and immor- 
tality : these are the blessiijgs you rehnquish ; and what do 
you gain ? One has told you, " vanity and vexation of spirit." 
Worldly things of any and every kind are less than the soul 
in value, and cannot satisfy its desires. They have no rela- 
tion to our real wants, or our best interest. They please 
only to poison ; they allure only to disappoint. They perish 
in the using. You can carry nothing of them with you ; 
you are not certain of retaining their possession during life : 
and if you were, "What is your life? It is even a vapor, 
that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." 
View them m the light of Scripture, view them under the 
anguish of conscience, view them from the borders of the 
grave, view them from the verge of eternity, and they are 
nothing. Nevertheless, for these, and often without obtain- 
ing them, you sin away your everlasting portion. "What 
is a man profited, if he gain the whole Avorld, and lose his 
ovni soul?" Why will you so little value that which the 
Redeemer of men deemed of sufficient worth to die that he 
might save it ? that thou wert wise — that thou wouldst 
think of these things, and not so foolishly part with what 



ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 5 

can never be regained. Beware of rashly doing a wrong, 
over which thou shalt shed unavailing tears of remorse and 
sorrow through eternal ages. 

3, Yiew Esau in his misery, and compa,re your doom 
WITH HIS. "For ye know how that afterw^ards, when he 
would have inherited the blessing, he was rejected; for he 
found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully 
with tears." Read the history in the 27th chapter of Gen- 
esis. When he heard the words of his father, he " cried 
with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and said unto his 
father. Bless me, even me also, raiy father." Nothing 
could be more affecting than this expostulation and ardent 
entreaty, the bitter lamentation and tears called forth by the 
discovery that he had forfeited the blessing connected with 
the birthright. But it was all to no purpose. In vam did 
he lament, and w^eep, and plead. The benediction was 
pronounced, and could not be revoked. It was bestowed 
upon Jacob, and Esau must remain unblest. His loss then 
was irretrievable. 

And did God by his righteous judgment exclude the pro- 
fane Esau because he had despised liis birthright ; how then 
"shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" " Of 
how much sorer pimishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought 
worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and 
counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith he" (Christ) 
"was sanctified," (or set apart,) "an unholy thing, and hath 
done despite to the Spirit of grace?" Are you disposed to 
pity him who is thus guilty? Weep rather for yourself: if" 
you have not repented and believed in Christ, your loss is 
unspeakably greater than his. After aU his disappointments 
he had something left, and could entertain himself with the 
diversions of the field. But you will be destitute of all re- 
sources. Every spring of comfort will be withdrawn, and 
unmingled sorrow for ever be the portion of the wicked. 

Ere long the voice of God wall summon you to his bar ; 
and then, overwhelmed Avith grief at finding yourself ex- 

VOL. XT. 42 



6 ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 

eluded from his favor — at seeing others, hke Jacob, sharing 
in the blessing, while you are doomed to perish — you may lift 
up a great and exceeding bitter cry, and say, "Bless me, 
even me also, my Father;" but your agonizing entreaty 
will not avail ; your tears, and sighs, and wringing of hands 
and im23loring cries cannot avert the just doom of Him whom 
you despised and rejected on earth, but wdio now must 
"laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear Com- 
eth :" you will be rejected, and be able to "find no place of 
repentance, though you seek it carefully with tears." Ob- 
serve, then, 

1. What a differ eiice there is hetiveen the he ginning 
and the end of an irreligious course. "A prudent man 
foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself ; but the simple pass 
on, and are punished." The wise always judge of things by 
their end. It is this that crowns the action. Sin is never 
profitable, but its beginnings are often flattering. "Stolen 
waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant ; but 
he knoweth not that the dead are there, and that her guests 
are in the depths of hell." "Though wickedness be sweet 
in his mouth, though he hide it under his tongue ; though 
he spare it, and forsake it not, but keep it still within his 
mouth ; yet his meat in his bowels is turned, it is the gall 
of asps within him." "What fruit had ye in those things 
whereof ye are now ashamed ? for the end of these things 
is death." 

2. Sin imavoidabhj brings a man sooner or later to 
lamentation and regret. "Thine own wickedness shall 
correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee : know, 
therefore, and see that it is an evil thing and bitter, that 
thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God." If a person studied 
his true interest, he would never sin. If ever he is saved 
and happy, he must be brought to repentance, and every sin 
will then give him additional pain ; and if he has not the 
godly sorrow that worketh life, how bitter will be the self- 
condemnation and anguish of a dying bed and a judgment- 



ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 7 

day. Sin, like Ezekiel's roll, is written within and without 
with " lamentation, and mourning, and woe." There is 
a repentance that is unavailing, a "sorrow of the world" 
which "worketh death." Judas repented, and went and 
hanged himself. The eye which sin closes, eternity will 
open ; and the bold transgressor, who defied the Almighty 
in the day of health, will tremble with remorse and grief 
when death points his fatal dart. But then grief comes too 
late — blessings once lost cannot be recalled. Death closes 
the day of grace. 

" There are no acts of pardon passed 
Tn the cold grave to which we haste; 
But darkness, death, and long despair 
Reign in eternal silence there." 

3. There are opportunities in every pei'wris, life more 
favorable to religion than others. And these may be lost 
this side of death. No doubt, when "Felix trembled," he 
felt as he never had before, and never did again. But he 
wilfully strove to do away the impression. , And have not 
you frequently had convictions which for the time filled you 
with alarm ? Have you not had such a relish for religious 
services as induced you to call the Sabbath a delight, and 
to hear the word of God with temporary joy ? Has not your 
closet been occasionally visited by a bended knee, and your 
private walks witnessed your tears and vows? Have not 
your earthly hopes been withered, and your delights imbit- 
tered or removed ? Have you not been constrained to turn 
aside from the world, to deplore its emptiness, and sigh for 
a nobler good ? These are circumstances favorable to piety. 
Improve them to your everlasting advantage; they are 
precious seasons for sowing and reaping immortal fruit. If 
disregarded, they may pass away for ever, leaving you to 
exclaim in the agony of despair, " The harvest is past, the 
summer is ended, and I am not saved." 

Let me afiectionately caution you against the danger of 



8 ESAU, OR THE RUINOUS BARGAIN. 

delaying the momentous duty of repentance. By repeated 
acts inveterate habits are formed, and dispositions rendered 
more and more unfavorable. The disease neglected becomes 
incurable, and the shrub permitted to stand grove's into a 
deep-rooted tree. "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or 
the leopard his spots? then may ye also do good, that are 
accustomed to do evil." Remember, too, repentance is not 
only a duty to be performed, whose difficulties are rrlulti- 
plied by delay, but a blessing to be imparted by the Lord. 
Your criminal delay in seeking it, renders it less probable 
that you will ever find it. Though you cannot deserve 
grace, you may seek and obtain it ; and after so many invi- 
tations scorned, what wonder if God become grieved at your 
ungrateful rejection of proffered mercy, and leave you to 
hardness and insensibility of heart. dreadful judgment 
of an incensed God I To be forsaken of the Author of life 
and happmess — to be lulled into a fatal slumber, and to be 
moving rapidly onward to the world of spirits, with no gen- 
uine contrition for sin, and no heart even to implore the 
necessary preparation to meet the Judge. 

Perhaps at this very moment the Spirit of God is mov- 
ing by his secret and solemn influence upon your soul, 
awakening serious impressions of duty, disturbing your con- 
science by the remembrance of past transgressions, con- 
veying to your mind awful forebodings of future woe, and 
urging you to flee for refuge to the sinner's Friend. Treat 
with tenderness the heavenly visitant — cherish his influ- 
ence, and quickly follow his guidance, for it is the voice of 
God. 



PUBLISH F.D BY' THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 473, 



THE 



AGED SAILOR. 




D- 



R- 



, the subject of the following narrative, 
was born at Glasgow, of respectable parents. They required 
him to attend public worship twace on the Sabbath, and in 
the evening to commit to memory a few verses of Scripture 
and a psalm or hjniin. He was naturally very passionate 
and self-willed : would frequently, when sent to school, play 
truant ; and when required to go to church, w^ould, as often 
as possible, go a bird's-nesting, or duck-hunting, or roam the 
fields with his companions in sin and folly. At the age of 
sixteen he determined to throw off all parental restraint ; 
and having succeeded in wickedly taking five pounds from 
his father's chest, he engaged himself as a cabin-boy in a 
vessel bound for India. 

VOL. XI. 42* 



2 THE AGED SAILOR. 

He soon became addicted to drunkenness, cursing, and 
swearing-. He was very fond of books, had a good memory, 
and for about ten years read every thing that came in his 
way. He visited various parts of the world as a sailor. 
When about twenty-six he returned to his native city Glas- 
gow, for the purpose of visiting his friends. During his stay 
of a few weeks, a former companion, who had become pious, 
induced him to attend church with him. Like Agrippa, he 
was almost persuaded to be a Christian. After his return 
to the vessel he was much steadier than before ; and agree- 
ably to his friend's request, read a chapter daily in the Bible 
which he had given him. In about a fortnight after, they 
were overtaken by a storm, and Avere in great danger of 
being lost. He then vowed, that if the Lord would spare 
his life, he would never swear or get drunk again, but that he 
would give himself to God : his vows, however, Avere made 
in his own strength, which quickly proved to be perfect 
weakness ; for, a few days after, one of the sailors found 
him reading, and told his companions of it, when they began 
to ridicule him, and to call him Methodist, saint, etc., which 
so enraged him that he tore the Bible to pieces before their 
eyes, and swore that he would never read it again, or enter 
a church ; at the same time calling upon God to strike him 
dead if he did. For more than fifty years he kept these 
awful resolutions. From this time he stood forth conspicu- 
ously, even in the estimation of his wicked companions, as 
an abandoned, profligate character. 

When he was about forty years old, he engaged himself 
to a gentleman who wanted a man who was acquainted 
with ibreign parts, to travel with him. When he was a 
little more than sixty the gentleman died ; soon after which 
he came to England, and having enough to live upon, he 
had nothing to engage his time, a great part of which he 
spent at the public-house. He was seldom to be seen sober, 
generally spoke with an oath, and was the pest of the neigh- 
borhood. 

When he was about seventy-eight, a young woman came 
to reside near his abode ; she frequently saw him at the door 
of dilierent public-houses, maddened with liquor and quarrel- 
some, and his oaths often made her tremble. Sometimes, as 
she passed, she would secretly let a few Tracts fall near the 
place where he stood, which were generally picked up by 



THE AGED SAILOR. 3 

some of his companions, and sometimes read ; but if D 

R got hold of them he would immediately bum them, 

or tear them to pieces. She lent Tracts at several houses, 
M^hich she generally exchanged once a week. 

It pleased God in his infinite mercy to bless her efforts 
to the conversion of a poor man and woman who lived near 

D H . This so much vexed him that he determined 

to annoy them in every possible way. Nor was he satisfied 
with this. He determined to waylay the young woman who 
lent the Tracts, and for that purpose stayed at home all one 
Sabbath afternoon ; but she did not pass that way, and he 
was disappointed. 

The next Sabbath afternoon, as she went to change her 
Tracts, she saw him at the door of his house. Having the 
Tract entitled "The Swearer's Prayer," she wished to give 
it to him, but prudence seemed to forbid ; yet the thought 
came across her mind with irresistible force, The man's soul 
is at stake, give it him. She went to him and asked him 
if he would hke to have a Tract to read, when he began 
to swear most dreadfully, and vowed that if she dared to 
offer liim another Tract he would tear it to pieces, and burn 
her and her Tracts too. In general she would have been 
so afraid of him that she would have hastened from him, 
but now she felt as if riveted to the spot till the first burst 
of his passion was over, and then, in a calm but firm tone, 
she said, "Man, take care that your curses do not fall on 
your own head." Having said this, she walked away. 

And now mark the hand of God, as it was strikingly 
displayed in the conversion of this aged sinner, and see how 
the words and persevering efforts of this young woman were 
made the means, by the Spirit of God, of reaching and break- 
ing his heart, seared and hardened though it was by a course 
of more than sixty years of iniquity and open rebellion against 
his Maker. 

The following is his own account of his conversion, taken 
from a letter written by him about three months before his 
death. 

"About a year and a half ago, a young person com- 
menced lending Tracts in the neighborhood in which I re- 
sided. In a short time many disorderly Sabbath-breakers 
became more orderly, and sometimes attended church, and 
a man and his wife became the subjects of divine grace. 



4 THE AGED SAILOR. 

These 1 persecuted as much as I possibly could. I also gave 
vent to my rage against the young person w^ho brought the 
Tracts, threatening what I would do to her if she continued 
bringing them. Finding that though she was aware of my 
threats she still went on as before, I became so enraged that 
I determined to carry them into effect. It was on the first 
Sabbath in August, 1841, that I saw her changing her 
Tracts, and I went to the door of my house, intending, if 
she dared to attempt to pass me, to knock her down ; but 
how greatly Avas I surprised to see her Avalk up to me and 
ask if I would like to have a Tract to read. I began to 
curse and to swear at her, but she stood unmoved till my 
rage had in a measure subsided, and then she said, in a tone 
that thrilled through my inmost soul, ' Man, take care that 
your curses do not fall on your own head.' I was for a few 
minutes unable to speak or move. When I had a little re- 
covered 1 Avent in, and began to think what curses they were 
that were in danger of falling on my own head. I saw my 
sins to be of the deepest dye, all of which seemed to rise 
up against me to condemn me. In the evening I went to 
church ; but the recollection of my impious request, in ask- 
ing God to strike me dead if I ever went again, so alarmed 
me that I knew very little of what the minister said. The 
next morning I bought myself a Bible, but for several days 
was so dreadfully agitated lest God should take me at my 
word, and strike me dead, that I could read very little ; and 
when my fears were in a measure subsided, I could read 
nothing but condemnation for myself. I thought I was of 
that number 'avIio had trodden under foot the Son of God, 
and counted the blood of the covenant an unholy thing.' I 
was on the borders of despair for ten weeks, when my dear 
friend, hearing of my state and the cause of it, came to see 
me. When I first saw her, I was greatly distressed at the 
remembrance of my abusive conduct. She tried to comfort 
me, and endeavored to lead me to the Saviour, and repeated 
various texts of Scripture to prove that 1 was not beyond 
the reach of mercy ; but I could take no comfort from any of 
them till she repeated the two following : ' All manner of sin 
and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men.' Matt. 12 : 31. 
• Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of Avhom 
I am chief.' 1 Tim. 1:15. She then said, 'You say you 
are the chief of sinners — for such Christ died.' This awak- 



THE AGED SAILOR. 5 

ened a gleam of hope. The following week she came al- 
most every day to see me. Being much alone at that time, 
she frequently invited me to her house to read to her while 
she was at work ; this, I think I may say, proved to be of 
great spiritual advantage to me. In a short time the Lord 
was pleased in his infinite mercy to show me that Christ 
was just such a Saviour as I needed, and that though my sins 
were as scarlet, they should be white as snow ; and though 
they were red like crimson, they should be as wool." 

The aged sailor having his time at command, and being 
an early riser, and his faculties being good, spent several 
hours daily in reading the Bible, private prayer, and medita- 
tion. He was fond of religious poetry, and committed several 
hymns to memory. He now began to be as zealous in the 
service of God as he had formerly been in the service of sin 
and Satan. He was very anxious for the conversion of his 
former companions, and would frequently go to different 
public-houses with Tracts suitable for drunkards and swear- 
ers, which he would give to all who could be induced to re- 
ceive them. In this way most of his Saturday evenings 
were spent for eight or nine months, and he never was known 
to take any strong drink from the time of his conversion to 
his death. 

He was active in lending Tracts and visiting the sick, 
and suffered no opportunity to pass of pointing sinners to 
"the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world ;" 
and it is confidently believed that he has been the happy 
instrument, in the hands of God, of bringing more than one 
sinner to Christ. Frequently did he meet his young friend 
at five o'clock in the morning, for reading the Scriptures, 
and prayerfor a blessing to rest upon their endeavors to 
bring sinners to Christ. Having obtained a comfortable 
hope, through grace, that he should sit down at the mar- 
riage-supper of the Lamb in the heavenly Jerusalem, he 
desired also to participate in the privileges of receiving the 
Lord's supper below, Avhich, after a public profession of faith 
in Christ, he was permitted to do on his eightieth birthday, 
September 4, 1842. In speaking of it, he said, "It was the 
happiest day he had ever spent ; that he had possessed such 
a foretaste of heaven as he had not before been permitted 
to enjoy ; that it was, indeed, ' a feast of fat things, of fat 
things full of marrow, of wdnes on the lees well-refined ;" 



6 THE AGED SAILOR. 

and then he exclaimed, with a countenance beaming with 
dehght, 

" If such the sweetness of the stream, 
What must the fountain be, 
Where saints and angels draw their bliss 
Immediately from Thee ?" 

On the morning of this day he held a meeting for prayer 
at his house, which was continued every Sabbath morning 
till his death ; the number increasing till the last morning, 
when twenty persons were present. 

The Saturday evening before his death he spent with 
his young friend. In speaking of it she says, " His conver- 
sation Avas so heavenly that I could not help thinking he 
was fast ripening for glory." On Sabbath morning he went 
to see a person Avho was dangerously ill. Not being able 
to come back in time to hear his own minister, he went to 
a chapel which was in his way home. The minister took 
for his text Revelation 5:11, 12, "And I beheld, and I 
heard the voice of many angels round about the throne, and 
the beasts, and the elders : and the number of them was ten 
thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands ; 
saying with a loud voice. Worthy is the Lamb that was slain 
to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and 
honor, and glory, and blessing." 

On his way home he said, " I have been thinking, when 
I get amongst the ransomed I shall sing more sweet, more 
loud than they all." On being asked what made him think 
so, he replied, "Because I have had more forgiven me; and 
to whomsoever much is forgiven, the same loveth much." 
At another time he said, " I feel more and more convinced 
of the love of God ; and I think I may say, I feel daily an 
increase of love to God." In the evening his own minister 
preached from the words, "Behold, I come quickly; and my 
reward is with me." Rev. 22 : 12. After his return he 
said, " My Saviour will come quickly, and receive me, un- 
worthy though I am, into his heavenly kingdom." 

On the last three mornings of his life he met his young 
friend, for reading and prayer, at five o'clock. On Wednes- 
day evening he went to hear an esteemed minister preach ; 
his text was, " But that which ye haA^e already, hold fast 
till I come." Rev. 2 :2o. Going home, he said, "What 



THE AGED SAILOR. 7 

a privilege it is to feel that we are not of those that draw 
back unto perdition, but of those that believe to the saving 
of the soul." Speaking of a lady whom he very much 
wished to see, who had been expected that afternoon, he 

said, "If I do not see Miss in this world I shall see her 

in heaven, and what a happy meeting will that be.'' 
His friend reminded him that most probably he would see 
her on Saturday ; he made no reply to that, but soon resumed 
his favorite theme — the happy meeting of the glorified. 

Indeed, it was quite evident that his heart and his treas- 
ure were in heaven. His friend left him about nine o'clock 
on Wednesday evening, and at one on Thursday morning he 
was taken ill. About two she went to see him; he was 
then in great pain. She said, "How grieved I am to see 
you suffer so mAich." He replied, "I feel nothing, compared 
with what Christ bore for me. I deserve the hottest place 
in hell. But 0, the boundless grace of Jehovah, he will 
take me to his kingdom in glory I" He sent for four persons 
who had been his companions in sin, and with great ear- 
nestness entreated them not to put ofi^ repentance till a dying 
hour; and added, "If I had died fifteen months ago, vdiere 
would my poor soul have been found? Doubtless I had 
now been in that place where hope never comes. Since I 
have obtained mercy no sinner need despair." He then 
asked a person present to read the twelfth chapter of Isaiah, 
and pray with him. On being asked what he should pray 
for, he said, "That all my former companions who have not 
given themselves to God, may be induced to do so ; and that 
my death may be for his glory." He then said. Let us sing, 

" Salvation, O the joyful sound, 
'Tis pleasure to our ears," etc. 

In the last hour of his life he had little pain, mortifica- 
tion having taken place. At about half-past three he took 
an aflectionate farewell of those of his neighbors that were 
present. He lay for a few minutes apparently in deep 

thought, and then said, "Tell Miss , though we have 

not seen one another on earth, we shall meet in heaven ;" 
and his countenance beaming with joy, he added, " What a 
happy meeting will that be ; there we shall meet to part no 
more for ever." He then said to his friend, " I am going to 
glory, and in due time you shall come too ; but you must 



8 THE AGED SAILOR. 

bring more souls to Christ first." He then took his fare- 
well of her, and said, "I shall soon be with Jesus;" and 
raising his eyes, said, " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, and 
receive thy unworthy servant to thyself;" and in two or 
three minutes he fell asleep in Jesus, about four o'clock in 
the morning, October 20, 1842, after three hours' illness; 
and went to sit down in the presence of his Lord, with 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven for 
ever. 

Let the history of the aged sailor encourage parents to 
be faithful in imparting early religious instruction ; but let 
it not be abused to encourage any to neglect God's call to 
immediate repentance. Very few, indeed, are the cases in 
which aged persons are converted ; they mostly die as they 
have lived, hardened and insensible, or lose the use of their 
faculties. To young and old the call is made now to repent 
and believe the Gospel. 

Reader, have you put off the salvation of your soul till 
now? Then delay no longer. "Now is the accepted time ; 
now is the day of salvation." 2 Cor. 6:2. There is mercy 
lor you, even if it be your eleventh hour. " Seek ye the 
Lord while he may be Ibund, call ye upon him while he is 
near." Isa. 55:6. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and thou shalt be saved." Acts 16 : 31. 

Are you a Christian? Then let the grand aim of your 
life be, to glorify God by bringing sinners to Christ. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



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