speculations and foul vices that assault the family institution. Blessed
be the gospel of Him who asserts the uncompromising law of domestic
purity, and opens most tenderly the Divine benignity, when most urging the
Divine commandment.
* * * * *
There is a branch of this subject which I cannot treat--one, perhaps, that
dwells too much in the region of higher sentiment to be the theme of
popular discussion, and which no writer can easily handle, without seeming
to be borrowing from the ancient theology its comments on the Song of
Songs, or delving in the dark but rich mines of Swedenborg's Arcana. Yet
it would be no far-fetched topic, whilst speaking of her who has been
called the Queen of Heaven, and regarded by the Fenelons and Catharines of
faith, as the type of celestial loveliness, to treat of the ideal of
womanhood in the spiritual world. Surely the higher a true culture rises,
the more clearly each great family of souls becomes more true to its own
genius, and the higher companionship known on earth, in the most refined
society, and the worthiest families, illustrates the permanence of those
traits that give man and woman their intellectual and moral
characteristics. The earthly loves, which Christ came to consecrate, bear
the germs of immortal uses, and are like Mary's own emblem the rose,
which, though born in the earth, lifts its bloom and wafts its fragrance
to the heavens. I know no more elevated illustration of this view than
that given by the Milton of Italy, the solemn Dante, who, in his vision of
Heaven, wanders through the celestial courts with the spirit that had been
the charm of his earthly life, and who, often as he stood confounded
before some new mystery, found his perplexities solved by the readier
intuition of his sainted companion. The higher companionship in
literature, art, society, religion, which we enjoy in this world, and
which is so incomplete when men or women are alone, gives some idea of the
state of souls on high, where they that shine most, and they that love
most, cherubim and seraphim, blend their holy ministries and bow together
before the Eternal Presence.
A homelier view of the subject must end our meditation--a view, however,
that opens into the heavenly world. The homelier the better--the nearer to
our hearts. Let us call Mary blessed to-day for ourselves, and for our own
families and friends. Bless her, now that we are thinking of all good
mothers, whether the queen true to her children on her island-throne, or
the faithful mother in the farmer's cottage;--so many on the earth--so
many who have gone from the world, and whose remembered faces now bring
heaven near. Bless her now, that we are thinking of the happy children
gathered together in the name of her Holy Child--as we think of the hosts
of little children whom He has called and is calling to Himself. It is a
time to be sober, and a time to be merry. In our soberness and our mirth,
alike let us remember God's love for us in Jesus Christ our Lord.
God's blessing, readers, upon you all--mothers, fathers, children,
brothers, sisters, friends--meeting or to meet in the sanctuary, or in
your homes! His love bring all together at last around the tree of life,
whose fruit is peace eternal!
_Christmas Eve._
The Hope of Childhood.
THE HOPE OF CHILDHOOD.
The account of the Flight to Egypt, so illustrated by the old masters,
brings three images before us, all in themselves interesting, and
expressive of lasting realities. Central, is the figure of a young child,
speaking at once of childhood and the God who blesses it. On either side
what contrast in the associated forms! On one hand stands Mary, watching
with unwearied vigils over her precious charge. In the distance, in his
stately palace, the dark form of the tyrant king rises before us; his
hands stained with the blood of a noble wife and three sons, his
conscience torn by remorse, his wrath the more inflamed from the
consciousness of deserving vengeance, his despotic will brooking no
thought of rivalry, and dooming to death the infant innocents of a whole
town to make sure of destroying the predicted Messiah.
Here is an emblem of what is over in the world. Here is childhood, its
guardian angel, and its evil genius. May not the scene suggest some
thoughts upon Christianity as the guardian of childhood against the spirit
of the world, which is its foe?
The mother and child fled to Egypt, there to languish or be forgotten?
Herod sat in his palace hall, there to rule and prosper? No. Ere the year
closed, he died; before death came, already a mass of putrefaction. He
died, signing with his fainting hands his will and the death-warrant of
his oldest son; thus dispensing death and empire in his last act. He died,
and the magnificence of his funeral mocked the wretchedness of his
decease. The body was borne aloft on a bier, which was adorned with gems;
the winding-sheet was of purple; his whole army, native and foreign,
marched in war array to his grave. As the gorgeous procession by slow
stages passed to the stately mausoleum, twenty-five miles distant at the
Herodium, word went to the fugitives in Egypt, that the tyrant was dead.
Who at that time, in the excitement of the funeral, or the festivities of
the succession--who cared for the obscure family, that stole on its way
quietly to Nazareth? The mother and child lived! They founded a kingdom
that dies never.
Richly that Christ-child repaid his mother's watching, alike to her and to
her sex. The religion of Christ has been the strength and comfort of
parents, and the hope of their children. Its power in the nurture of the
young mind has been illustrated in every age, and connects itself now
momentously with the most important topics of our time. What topic more
congenial with this Christmas season, so consecrated to associations with
childhood and youth, leading us back to the cradle of the infant Redeemer,
and opening a festival in which young hearts all over the world rejoice?
The child ever needs protection; Herod ever in some form rages;
Christianity like a mighty maternal heart needs ever to keep its watch.
* * * * *
Look upon the past history of Christendom from this point of view, and how
novel and interesting is the result! We have been taught to associate the
progress of Christianity with the account of theological controversies,
bitter disputes, bloody persecutions, proud hierarchies; and thus we too
often read the annals of the Church with shame or contempt. But take a
fairer and more intimate view: think of Christianity in connection with
childhood and youth, trace its influence upon the home, the school, the
Church, in this aspect. Do this, and we shall find ourselves moved by the
annals of every age to tenderness and gratitude; for in every age
Christianity has been the guardian of childhood against the spirit of the
world, its foe. When the Saviour took young children in his arms and
blessed them, he performed an act which has not been without significance
in all subsequent time.
In the primitive time the Christian confessors showed how fondly they had
been taught to regard their offspring, to care for their souls in life and
in death, to commend them with deathless love to Him who had opened the
gates of everlasting life. In the Roman catacombs, far beneath the city,
the places of early Christian worship and burial, the inscriptions on the
tombstones well express the parental feelings of that time. An uncommonly
large portion of the epitaphs given in the description belong to
children, and they express the tenderest affection. "Virginius remained
but a short time with us." "Sweet Faustina, may you live in God."
"Laurence to his sweetest son, Severus, borne away by angels on the
seventh Ides of January." How different the spirit breathed in such
inscriptions from that inspired by the idolatry, that formed a god of the
war-spirit that makes childhood desolate and orphaned, or bows down before
Moloch and casts children into the fire at his feet!
Turn even to those ages that are called by eminence dark--the time of
monkish austerity and priestly sway. There is much in their annals to move
indignation and sometimes horror. But interpret them fairly, and we find
much to move our admiration and love. Consider that embodiment of the
middle ages, the Gothic cathedral, wonderful alike for the vastness of its
proportions and the delicacy of its details. There may be austerity in the
priests that attend its altars, fanaticism in the monks who chant its
litanies, cruelty in the mailed men who kneel at its chancel. But how
tender is the expression of the whole in reference to childhood! The Holy
Mother and her Divine child beam upon the worshipper from illuminated
missals and painted windows. Conspicuous at the vestibule or by the altar,
stands the baptismal font. Thither the child of the poorest peasant is
brought, and by the baptismal water the child is recognized as belonging
to the kingdom not of this world, a lamb of the good Shepherd. Not for the
few rich, noble or mighty, but even for him, the least of the earth, this
temple was erected, and by that rite the church, imperial in its stately
palace, promises to watch over the child, care for his soul in sorrow,
sickness and death. What would childhood have been in the dark ages
without the Church? What other power could have stood between innocence
and its tempter and destroyer? Who would have withstood Herod, if the
mother heart of Christianity had withheld its guardianship?
The Protestant Reformation consider, and through all its conflicts and
persecutions, what tenderness is shown on both sides towards childhood! To
secure the young heart to Christ and the Church, the rival parties labored
with indefatigable zeal. In the zeal and policy of Loyola we may see how
tenderly the old Church sought to keep or regain her hold upon the young
by measures suited to the time. Would we know Luther's mind, look upon him
as he sits with lute in hand at his fireside, enjoying the gladness of his
children at the Christmas tree;--look at him, as with pen in hand and the
veins of his forehead dilated with the excitement, he writes the immortal
appeal to the powers of Germany in behalf of free schools, which has
joined his name with Milton's as champion of popular education. Think too
of the Pilgrim Fathers, so tender and thoughtful in their stern
self-denial, in their wilderness home erecting church and school-house
side by side, both sacred to God and his people.
* * * * *
But it is time to look round upon the world as it now is. The most
important question is: What is to be done for the young? This question
comprises every other, for the generation that is growing up will soon
have the destinies of the race in its charge. Surely Christianity needs to
be watchful, for Herod is still abroad. His spirit is still the spirit of
the world--of the world's passions and its policy--breathing now in the
oppression that neglects or overburdens the young, and now in the
capricious indulgence that betrays with a kiss and kills in the name of
love.
The world's passions conspire against childhood and youth. The lust and
intemperance, which degrade the parent, press heavily upon the child, and
because of them, thousands of young hearts find themselves in a world that
for them has few smiles. All the temptations that inflame the senses,
prompt to vice, and kindle hatred, conspire against the young, alike by
corrupting those who should be their protectors, and sowing prematurely
the seeds of wickedness in youth itself. Every haunt of dissipation, every
resort of revelry, whether the drunkard's den or the fashionist's
brilliant saloon of corruption, is a conspiracy against youth, and coins
its gold from the life-blood of young hearts. The massacre of the
Innocents still goes on. The spirit of Herod yet lives, and acts in a
manner more insidious than an open death-warrant. It lives in the passions
of a world ready to sacrifice all to its lusts.
And the world's policy is not kind to childhood. What murderers are those
its chief idols, Mars and Mammon! How cruel the game of war and the lust
of gold! Who rules over the strife that robs children of parents who go to
die in foreign lands? What genius, Herod or Christ, presides over the
scene, when death-dealing batteries are planted before peopled cities, and
the blood and brains of women and children are dashed out at every volley?
Ye Christian chivalry, ye battle-loving parents, answer that question as
for yourselves and your children!
The lust of gold, that moves the world's habitual policy, is less savage
but not much more merciful. The spirit of trade demands gain, and claims
childhood too much as an instrument of gain. In the Old World, what
myriads whom school or church never blesses or knows, are, almost from
infancy, trained to the mine or loom, shut out from free air and play,
cramped in body, as in mind. The conscience of Christians is waking up to
the subject, I know, still what a world of wretchedness remains
unalleviated! No poem in the language contains more terrific truth, than
that noted ode, called "The Cry of the Children," blending, as it does,
the tragic depth of Aeschylus with the tender pathos of Cowper.
They look up with their pale and sunken faces,
And their looks are sad to see,
For the man's grief abhorrent, draws and presses
Down the cheek of infancy--
"Your old earth," they say, "is very dreary;"
"Our young feet," they say, "are very weak!
Few paces have we taken, yet are weary--
Our grave-rest is very far to seek!"
Ask the old why they weep, and not the children,
For the outside earth is cold,--
And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering,
And the graves are for the old!
Two words, indeed, of praying we remember;
And at midnight's hour of harm,--
"Our Father," looking upward in the chamber,
We say softly for a charm.
We know no other words, except "Our Father,"
And we think that, in some pause of angels' song,
God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather,
And hold both within his right hand which is strong.
"Our Father!" If He heard us, He would surely
(For they call him good and mild)
Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely,
"Come and rest with me, my child!"
And well may the children weep before you;
They are weary, ere they run;
They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory
Which is brighter than the sun:
They know the grief of men, but not the wisdom;
Are bitter with despairing, but not calm--
Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom--
Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm,--
Are worn, as if with age, yet unretrievingly
No dear remembrance keep;
Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly:
Let them weep! let them weep!
They look up with their pale and sunken faces,
And their look is dread to see,
For you think you see their angels in their places,
With eyes meant for Deity.
An ode such as this was not without effect upon the heart of England; nor
is the humanity which it imbodies rare in our land. The spirit of trade
among us is not wilfully cruel, but it is too devoted to gain--negligent
of the claims of youth, when not unkind. Neglected ones in our own streets
have too frequent cause to reproach us--neglected ones who are strangers
to the blessings of our civilization, and who learn our laws first from
their penalties, and become acquainted with the lessons of the prison, not
of church or school. They, alas, who might be an honor to their sex, are
made to recruit the ranks of shame, and what is the spirit of Herod
compared with the world's heart to fallen woman, alike in the wickedness
that tempts and the scorn that awaits the fall.
And not solely among the neglected of the earth does the spirit of the
world lie in wait for childhood and youth. We might speak of the
indulgence that pampers and vainly ruins the soul--of the kindness that
kills those whom it aims to bless--of the neglect of health, natural and
spiritual laws, which luxury introduces into modes of home education--of
the want of a firm discipline that is kindest when firmest--of a practical
infidelity that robs childhood of its sacred birthright, by robbing it of
trust in God and the eternal life. Herod rages truly in the passions and
the policy of the world.
* * * * *
But not unchecked! Christianity with its great maternal heart is true to
her watch, and calling helpers to her side. Let us acknowledge it. The
great work of Christians now, is with the young. The work is two-fold, one
of growth and of conquest, one that would rear up the offspring of faith
within the divine kingdom, and one which would visit the neglected and
reclaim them from the enemies' power.
The work must begin, indeed, in the hearts of the mature, fostered there
by communion with God and Christ, fostered by sacred thought and earnest
resolution. Beginning there, it is to be carried out into the great
spheres of life, in which childhood receives its direction. Vain for us to
attempt to imbue the young mind with truths, which we receive only in
name--vain the attempt to feed yearning souls with empty words, or breathe
into them a higher life, with appeals so faithless and loveless as to bear
falsity in their very tone, and fall dead upon the ear. As the bee watched
by Solomon alighted upon the living rose, and shunned the pretended one,
so childhood knows well the tone of sincerity, and craves reality for its
mental food. Let it find the reality.
Let it find it in the home. Home, blessed word always, thrice blessed,
this day, that speaks to us of Jesus, who has secured to the household so
much of its purity and affection, and that brings to mind the loved ones
beneath our own roofs, who have hardly slept the night from anxious
waiting for the morning dawn. Home--what an engine of power, alike to harm
and to bless! Let it be Christian in form and in spirit. There let God be
acknowledged in praise and prayer. There let the eternal world be
unveiled, and every blessing bring it near in gratitude, and every trial
draw down its consolation. There let the young breathe in the spirit of
the gospel. There let Mary keep her watch of love, and Herod waits in vain
to destroy.
Let the world's bad spirit be withstood, too, in the schools. The cry is
now rising in every part of Christendom--from the backwoodsmen of the
Rocky Mountains to the cities of the Old World, of late, stirred by a
mighty want--Education, Universal Education! In no section, certainly, of
our land, is this spirit comparatively more earnest than with us--for,
beyond question, this State has been recently passing through an
intellectual revival altogether unexampled in the annals of our Free
Schools. Christians should rejoice in the movement, and should rescue
popular education from the blighting touch of avarice and superstition.
Let it go on in its work of growth and conquest--nurturing the children of
the privileged, reclaiming the offspring of the neglected, carrying out a
mode of education based upon the laws of God and the soul of man, mindful
of every faculty, grace, affection, that God has hallowed and human wisdom
unfolds. Let nothing that has been done lead us to be unmindful of what is
to be done, alike in the extension and elevation of the schools. We wonder
at the system of training pursued of old, which led youth to regard the
school as a prison. Higher yet the idea must rise, as better views are
entertained of the capacities of the child, and the intellectual helps and
moral associations that bring them out. We need the idea of the
Christ-child in the school. Let that haunt the minds of parents and
teachers, and that sacred ideal of childhood will not be without loving
disciples, whose voices shall make the songs of the schoolroom as sacred
and acceptable as temple chants or choral litanies. A better spirit, and
one that demands the co-operation of all Christian people, has shown
itself in our city of late, in the new efforts to seek out neglected
children, and open to them the blessings of education, and industry and
religion. The establishment of the Mission at the Five Points, of the
Children's Aid Society, of the Asylum for Friendless Boys, have made an
era in the Christian annals of New-York, which all right-minded persons
should bless, alike in their word and their work. Add to these efforts for
the poor and neglected, the new institutions, such as the Free College and
the Cooper Institute, which offer such unwonted privileges to worthy boys
of the humblest means, and we have no reason to despair of the future of
this great city, or to distrust the school as a noble ally of the church.
The Christian church! Here the spirit of the guardian mother ought
eminently to prevail. The church should be the mother of the young. Oh,
how cold and dreary is the idea, deemed by many the essential of
Protestant truth, the idea that the young, or at least, little children,
can have no vital connection with the Church; but must wait for some
preternatural visitation in maturer years to call them to the arms of the
great spiritual mother, and make them feel themselves hers. How
unsatisfactory the doctrine, that children are to grow up, as if outside
of the church, with the prospect of one day being taken in. Be ours the
cheering view, sanctioned, surely, by the analogies of revelation, the
faith of centuries, and by the love of parents, that the child should be
regarded as by birth and baptism admitted into the Christian kingdom, and
to be nurtured from the very first in the principles and affections
congenial with the government of God. Let this idea be accepted, and power
and blessing would come in its train. Higher consecration would crown the
home, better wisdom would guide the strength of father, and holier love
fill the soul of mother, from their communion with the kingdom that claims
parent and child for its own. The Christ-child should be remembered in the
Christian Church. When remembered truly, he will save childhood from
Herod's hands.
This season is a time of anticipation and hope. It needs no very vivid
imagination to bring before us the myriads of homes over Christendom, that
ring with young mirth, and look cheerfully upon the opening age. Yet the
grave question cannot but press itself upon us, What is in store for the
generation, that is soon to stand in our places, and bear the burdens of
life in our stead? Interesting, engrossing indeed are the fields of
science, art, enterprise, enjoyment, now dawning upon us and promising a
bright meridian to the new generation. Yet fearfully many dark spots in
the horizon rise in the distance, and portend ill to many whose experience
of the world is yet to come. The great want is of an earnest purpose,
looking to an eternal aim, and enforced by a true plan of social life. The
young host is ready, but needs better guidance. Muratori, the Italian
historian, tells us, that in the twelfth century, in the contagion of the
crusades, children caught the spirit, and an army of 30,000 was gathered
from village and city, and marshalled by a child, started for the Holy
Land and the Tomb of Christ. They marched on till they came to Marseilles,
and the great sea stopped their fond dream. They wandered about
distracted, and thousands miserably perished. Perhaps too romantic story
for sober truth! But what a parallel to it in our age! A mighty host of
youths starts on its way to a land of imagined holiness and peace. Vague
aspirations, selfish passions, spiritual yearnings for the good and true,
move their hearts. A child will lead them; the child who is to be the
strong man of the age, and who is not yet known. Sadly, sadly, will they
be disappointed, unless the leader is himself divinely led, and the heart
of the Christ-child lives in him, and thus in the hearts of this
generation, the Messiah is born anew.
Every true purpose, all genuine faith speeds the day of his new coming,
and hastens the downfall of Herod and his host.
* * * * *
Friends, Readers, let your hearts apply the lesson of this day, and let
your hearts be cheered and solemnized by its associations. Think of your
homes and the loved ones there. Think too of the loved ones departed, and
deem them not lost, but gone before! Love your children, and love them the
more by looking on them in the gospel light, by loving them as in God and
Christ!