To study the Bible was once considered a crime. Only priests were

allowed to read and interpret it. Those who were caught searching its

sacred pages were punished by fine, imprisonment and not infrequently

death. On one occasion Joseph II. under the assumed name of “Count of

Falkenstein” was traveling in Bohemia, and, being stopped by a rainstorm

took shelter at a village inn. During the evening some of the peasants

called at the tavern to talk with the landlord about a small house just

outside the village, in which they claimed dark-looking objects,

carrying lighted torches, were moving about. Superstition had such a

hold upon the peasantry that they thought the future welfare of the

little town depended upon the utter annihilation of that cottage,

together with its occupants. Joseph, overhearing their conversation,

expressed a desire to see the place. Accordingly he proceeded thither

with his escort. On arriving, he commanded his attendants to surround

the house while he knocked at the door. The summons was answered by an

old man who asked, “Who is it that disturbs an honest man at so late an

hour?” The Emperor replied: “If you are honest, no harm shall befall

you, but, if not, you shall die this very night.” The old man re-entered

the room and Joseph followed and seated himself on the stove-hearth. In

the center of the room was a table with a Bible upon it, and gathered

around were several pious-looking people who had been engaged in divine

worship. Joseph ordered the master of the house to proceed with his

devotions. This he did, reading from the third chapter of the Gospel of

St. John: “For God so loved the world.” After listening a little while,

the ruler, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed: “I was not aware that

there were people who still had the courage to read the Bible.” He

invited the pious father to come to Vienna and inquire at the imperial

palace for the “Count of Falkenstein.” The good man, in company with his

son, soon after went, and found the Count to be the Emperor himself.

Joseph grasped both his hands and gave him a scroll which contained the

toleration edict, dated October 13th, 1781. He also handed him a purse

of five hundred florins with which to build a chapel. This chapel

bearing the inscription, “A present from the Emperor,” is situated in

the village of Lackenstein, Bohemia, while the name of Senitz is still

honored as the one who dared study the Word of God, though a nation

opposed it.

POINTS TO REMEMBER.

To study the Bible one needs _a proper spirit_. Ezra said, “He prepared

his heart to seek the law of the Lord.” (Ezra 7:10). Heart preparation

is needed to open the covers of this Book indited by the Holy Ghost. It

is God’s Book, and should be handled by clean fingers and a clean heart.

Without doubt Ezra prayed before he studied. “Open Thou mine eyes,” said

David, “that I may behold wondrous things out of Thy law.” (Psalm

119:18). Every boy should speak to God before he looks into the Bible,

asking that he may reverently and intelligently read its contents.

“_Study it carefully,

Think of it prayerfully,

Deep in thy heart let its pure precepts dwell.

Slight not its history,

Ponder its mystery;

None can e’er prize it too fondly or well._”

To study the Bible one should have a special time if possible. The early

morning is doubtless the best, for the mind is more active and

receptive, and passages then read may be considered with profit

throughout the day. However, it is a good thing to glance at it whenever

there is a spare moment. James Bonnell made the Holy Scriptures his

constant and daily study. He read them, meditated upon them and prayed

over them. Sir John Hartop, amidst his many vocations, kept the Bible

before him night and day. If it is good to read in the morning, and to

meditate upon through the day, it is just as good to read in the

evening. The good German expositor Bengel was seen one night with the

open Bible upon his knees, and laying his hand upon its sacred page, was

heard to say, “Lord Jesus, we are on the same terms that we were this

morning, now I will lie down and sleep, and Thou wilt fulfill Thy Word

in me.” Blessed confidence!

To study the Bible one might use a few helps to advantage. Use a

reference Bible. It is almost indispensable to proper study. A

concordance is necessary to turn to any verse with celerity. A Bible

dictionary is a valuable aid to explain many things in history,

antiquity, customs and manners. A good commentary is often a valuable

requisite. It helps in the study, though it must not be depended upon as

a lame man depends upon his crutches.

HOW TO STUDY.

What is worth doing is certainly worth doing well. No fitful study has

ever mastered any branch of science or art. If constant application of

fundamental principles is necessary to achieve the highest results in

scientific investigation, if the ability to make accurate lines and

curves is essential to the success of the truest artist, if practice in

five-finger exercises is a daily necessity to the pianist, the boy who

desires to be thoroughly acquainted with the Bible must diligently

search it.

Study carefully words and verses. Frequently one word is a nugget of

pure gold. Study ideas. As there are veins of silver and gold in the

rocks, so there are veins of truth running through the Bible. Study

history. No book deals with nations as far back and shows their rise and

fall as the Bible. Study geography. There are rivers and mountains

associated with great events. Every land seems to have changed except

the one where the Bible was written. Egypt, Greece and Rome have little

now in common with the days of antiquity. Babylon and Nineveh are not.

But Palestine still remains about the same as a literal explanation of

the Bible.

Study the books. Learn the number and the names of their authors.

“Doctor,” said a convalescent, “I’m no judge of books—don’t often read

one; but I’m reading one now that seems to me a very fine book. I

haven’t noticed yet who wrote it, and I don’t know how you’d pronounce

its title, but it’s something like I-van-hoe.” “My friend,” said the

physician, “I’d give large gold to be in your place long enough to be

reading that book for the first time and not knowing who wrote it.” In

the Old Testament there are 39 books. In the New Testament 27. The first

five are laws and political economy, the next twelve history, the rest

poetry and prophecy. The first four of the New Testament are biography

and gospel; Acts is history; the Epistles theology and philosophy, and

Revelation is a drama written by John on the Isle of Patmos.

Study a whole book asking such questions, “Who wrote it? Where was it

written? In what age? What lessons does it teach?” By seeking an answer

to these questions one cannot fail to gain valuable information in

biography, geography, and manners. Study the teachings of the New

Testament. Its numerous commands will prompt action, its invitations

inspire confidence, its promises impart comfort and its doctrines

establish one in faith. In a word, study the Scriptures methodically.

WHY STUDY THE BIBLE?

The question why study the Bible is of as great importance as how. It is

historically worth studying. Without it history is incomplete. It is the

only book that spans four thousand years, revealing the origin of the

universe and man. It is personally worth studying. “In its pages every

conceivable condition of human experience is reflected as in a mirror.

It puts music into the speech of the tuneless one, and rounds the

periods of the unlettered into an eloquence which no orator can rival.

It has martial odes to brace the warrior’s courage and gainful proverbs

to teach the merchant wisdom. It can translate the doubt of the

perplexed, articulate the cry of the contrite, and fill the tongue of

the joyous with carols of thankful gladness.” Because of its blaze of

eloquence and light of truth Burke read it, while Daniel Webster turned

to it for its rhetoric and poetry.

It is this book, my boy, which is needed as a guide in the practical

duties of life, and which makes us “Wise unto salvation through faith

which is in Christ Jesus.” (2 Tim. 3:15). In fact, it is the only book

which presents Christ. In the Old Testament He is seen in prophecy and

symbol, in the New in history. In the Old, He is brought to our hearts

in glorious promises; in the New, He comes to us as a living person. He

is “all and in all” (Col. 3:3), insuring peace in this life, comforting

in death and extending happiness beyond the grave.

“IS ALL THIS TRUE?”

In the northern part of England lived a pious widow with her seven

daughters and one son. The latter proved ungrateful for her care and

became her scourge and cross. He loved worldly company and pursued a

wayward course till becoming impoverished it was necessary for him to go

to sea. When his mother took leave of him she gave him a New Testament,

inscribed with his name and her own and solemnly and tenderly entreated

him to keep the book and read it for her sake. Years passed without

tidings of his whereabouts. Occasionally when visiting the metropolis

she would inquire for the ship in which her son had sailed, but without

satisfaction. On one occasion she accidentally met a sea captain, who

informed her that the vessel had been wrecked, and that Charles, whom he

knew well, had gone as all like him should go, to the bottom of the sea.

Pierced to the soul, the unhappy mother withdrew and resolved in future

to live in strict retirement. “I shall go down to the grave,” she said,

“mourning for my son.” (Gen. 37:35). She moved to a seaport. After the

lapse of years a destitute sailor seeking relief knocked at the door.

She heard his tale. He had several times been wrecked, but he had never

been so dreadfully destitute as he was some years back, when he and a

fine young gentleman were the only individuals of a whole ship’s crew

that were saved. “We were cast upon a desert island, where, after seven

days and nights, I closed his eyes. Poor fellow, I shall never forget

it. He read day and night in a little book, which he said his mother

gave him, and which was the only thing he saved. It was his companion

every moment. He talked of nothing but this book and his mother, and at

last he gave it to me, with many thanks for my poor services. ‘There,

Jack,’ said he, ‘take this book, keep and read it, and may God bless

you, it’s all I’ve got,’ and then he clasped my hand and died in peace.”

“Is all this true?” asked the trembling, astonished mother. “Yes, madam,

every word of it.” Then, drawing from his ragged coat a little book,

much battered and time-worn, he held it up, exclaiming, “and here it

is.” She seized the Testament, recognized her own handwriting and beheld

the name of her son coupled with her own on the cover. She gazed, read,

wept and rejoiced. She seemed to hear a voice which said, “Behold, thy

son liveth!” (John 4:50). Amidst her conflicting emotions, she was ready

to exclaim: “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace,

according to Thy word, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.” (Luke

2:29, 30).

If my boy, a book helps one to die, it must be an excellent book by

which to live. Make it your constant companion and study, looking for

its precepts as well as promises, and determine to live up to every duty

as you shall discover it. On the day of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation, a

boy, skilled in athletic feats, was dressed as an angel, with wings on

his shoulders and feet, and on the approach of the royal coach, he

descended as if from heaven, from the top of Temple Bar, bearing an

elegant Bible, expressly made for the Queen. As he descended, the crowd

exclaimed: “The Bible Bearer!” Blessed the boy who accepts God’s call to

be a “Bible Bearer.” Said David, “Thy word have I hid in my heart that I

might not sin against Thee.” (Ps. 119:11).

“_Here the tree of knowledge grows,

And yields a free repast;

Here purer sweets than nature knows,

Invite the longing taste._”

CHAPTER XXIV

Be a Sabbath Observer

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXIV

BY WILBUR F. CRAFTS

“We are apt to think,” said Henry S. Baker, “that a rest of twelve

hours, with a sleep of about eight fully recuperates us after a day of

hard work at physical or mental labor or both. The microscope shows such

a view to be wrong. Even twenty-four hours is not quite enough time,

strange as it may seem. The microscope shows that more than thirty

hours, possibly thirty-three or thirty-six, are needed to restore a cell

to its proper size and condition after severe fatigue. In other words,

man is so made that he needs a Sabbath from Saturday evening to Monday

morning of complete rest to be as good as new. Without this he is never

at his best, physically, mentally, morally or spiritually. So we find

the fourth commandment is in the nineteenth century echoed from the

biological laboratory with tremendous emphasis, and again we are

compelled to admit that He who spoke at Sinai must have made the brain

cell and understood its secret workings. Again is our faith made firmer

that the Old Book is not wholly manmade.”

The Sabbath was made for man, body and soul, as the two railway tracks

are made for the two wheels, and only on the smooth track of God’s law

can your life run smoothly or safely.

[Illustration: Wilbur F. Crafts]

CHAPTER XXIV

BE A SABBATH OBSERVER

A gentleman who had great respect for the Sabbath was going to church.

He was a peculiar man, and would sometimes do and say singular things.

On his way he met a stranger driving a heavily laden wagon through the

town. When opposite the wagoner, he suddenly stopped, turned around,

and, lifting up both hands as if in horror, exclaimed, “There, there,

you are going over it! There, you have gone right over it!” The driver

was frightened, and drew up the horses in an instant, crying: “Whoa!

Whoa!” He looked under the wheels, expecting to see the mangled remains

of some innocent child, or at least a dog, that had been crushed to

death. But, seeing nothing, he gazed at the gentleman who had so

strangely arrested his attention, and anxiously asked: “Pray, sir, what

have I gone over?” “The fourth commandment,” was the reply. “Remember

the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” (Exod. 20:8).

This commandment God wrote on “tables of stone” (Ex. 24:12) thousands of

years ago, and not only on stone but also in man’s nature. Sir Robert

Peel once said he never knew a man to escape failure either in mind or

in body who worked seven days in the week. To observe it is a duty we

owe to ourselves and to our God. To neglect or disuse it is to incur

God’s displeasure and with it the ills incident thereto.

About a century ago, the National Assembly of France, consisting mostly

of infidels, abolished the Sabbath. It was not long, however, before a

wail of distress went up all over the land, demanding the recognition of

this “Day of Rest,” and obedience to the will of God. It is to the

credit of our legislators that they have never suggested such a thing,

yet hundreds and even thousands of men and boys desecrate it. But—

“_A Sabbath profaned

Whatever be gained

Is a certain forerunner of sorrow._”

A PICTURE, TESTIMONY, FACT.

Hogarth once painted a beautiful picture in which he showed the first

step downward of a man who suffered capital punishment. It represented

him when a boy playing around the churchyard while the minister was

preaching. Not that all boys who do so will come to the gallows, but all

are wending their way downward to worse offenses.

A gentleman who had charge of a prison, in which there were more than

one thousand prisoners, took special pains to ascertain the causes of

their crimes. He said that he did not recollect a single case of capital

offense where the party had not been a Sabbath-breaker. In many cases

the prisoners assured him that Sabbath-breaking was the first step in

their downward career. “Indeed,” said he, “nineteen out of every twenty

have neglected the Sabbath and other ordinances of religion.”

One of the most appalling crimes of the day is Sabbath desecration.

Thousands make it a day of pleasure. On car and boat, with carriage and

bicycle, excursions are made. With bat and ball games are played. With

gun and fishing rod life is taken, all which says, “Death to the

Sabbath.” O, my boy, are you aware what that means? It is an evil

influence thrown against 75,000 Sunday-schools and 800,000 teachers to

stop the religious instruction of 7,000,000 young people. It is an

influence arrayed against 60,000 pulpits and 60,000 trumpets calling

sinners to repentance. And more than this, it is an influence arrayed

against the morality and integrity of the nation, for, as Judge McLean

of the Supreme Court, said, “Where there is no Sabbath, there is no

Christian morality; and without this, free institutions cannot long be

maintained.”

A BRAVE BOY.

One lovely Sunday morning some years ago, eight young men were walking

along the banks of a stream that flows into the Potomac not far from the

City of Washington. They were going to a grove to spend the hours of

that holy day in playing cards. Each of them carried a flask of wine in

his pocket. As they were amusing one another with idle jests the bell of

a church in a little village about two miles away began to ring. It

sounded in their ears as plainly as though it were only on the other

side of the little stream along which they were walking. Presently one

of them stopped, and said to his friend near him, that he would go no

farther, but would return to the village and go to church. His friends

called to their companions, who were a little ahead: “Boys! Boys! come

back here. George is getting religious. We must help him. Come on, and

let us baptize him in the water.” In a moment they formed a circle about

him. They told him that the only way in which he could save himself from

having a cold bath was by going with them. In a calm, quiet manner he

said, “I know very well you have the power to put me in the water and

hold me there till I am drowned; and if you choose to do so, I will make

no resistance; but listen to what I have to say, and then do as you

think best. You all know that I am two hundred miles from home; but you

do not know that my mother is a helpless, bed-ridden invalid. I never

remember seeing her out of bed; I am her youngest child. My father could

not afford to pay for my schooling, but our teacher, who is a warm

friend of father’s, offered to take me without charge. He was very

anxious for me to come, but mother would not consent. The struggle

almost cost her her life. At length after many prayers she yielded, and

said I might go. The preparations for my leaving home were soon made. My

mother never said a word to me on the subject till the morning I was to

leave. After breakfast she sent for me and asked if everything was

ready. I told her it was and I was only waiting for the stage. At her

request I knelt down beside the bed. With her loving hands upon my head,

she prayed for me. Many nights since then have I dreamed that whole

scene. It is the happiest recollection of my life. I believe, till the

day of my death I shall be able to repeat every word of that prayer.

When I rose, she said, ‘My precious boy, you do not know, you never can

know, the agony of a mother’s heart in parting from her youngest child.

When you leave home you will have looked, for the last time, on the face

of her who loves you as no other mortal does or can. Your father cannot

afford the expense of your making us visits during the two years that

your studies will occupy. I cannot possibly live as long as that. The

sands in the hour-glass of my life have nearly run out. In the far-off

strange place to which you are going there will be no loving mother to

give you counsel in time of trouble. Seek counsel and help from God.

Every Sabbath morning, from ten to eleven o’clock, I will spend the hour

in prayer for you, wherever you may be during this sacred hour. When you

hear the church bells ringing let your thoughts come back to the chamber

where your dying mother will be agonizing in prayer for you. But I hear

the stage coming. Kiss me farewell.’ Boys, I never expect to see my

mother again on earth. But, by the help of God, I mean to meet her in

heaven.”

As George stopped speaking, the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He

looked at his companions. Their eyes were all filled with tears. In a

moment the ring which they had formed around him was opened. He passed

out and went to church. He had stood up for the right against the wrong,

with great odds against him. They admired him for doing what they had

not the courage to do. They all followed him to church. On their way,

each of them quietly threw away his cards and wine flask. Never again

did any of those young men play cards on the Sabbath. From that day they

all became changed men. Six of them died Christians, the seventh, who

related this story, has been for years an earnest, active member of the

church, and George became an able, Christian lawyer.

The same is true of you, my boy. You will help or hinder, bless or

curse, encourage or discourage in proportion as you live and act on this

day. Girard, the millionaire of Philadelphia, one Saturday ordered all

his clerks to come on the morrow to his wharf and help unload a

newly-arrived ship. One young man replied quietly: “Mr. Girard, I can’t

work on Sundays.” “You know the rules?” “Yes, I know, I have a mother to

support, but I can’t work on Sundays.” “Well, step up to the desk, and

the cashier will settle with you.” For three weeks the young man could

find no work, but one day a banker came to Girard to ask if he could

recommend a man for cashier in a new bank. The discharged young man was

at once named as a suitable person. “But,” said the banker, “you

dismissed him.” “Yes, because he would not work on Sundays. A man who

would lose his place for conscience’s sake would make a trustworthy

cashier.” He was appointed. My boy—

“_Dare to do right, dare to do right;

The world will change when you’ve won the fight.

Don’t mind a laugh, don’t mind a slight,

Dare to do right, dare to do right._”

GOD HALLOWED IT.

After God made the world and all contained therein, we read that He

rested. The word “Sabbath” is the Hebrew word meaning rest. We are to

remember the “Rest Day,” for God hallowed it and because of this the

one-seventh of our time is to witness a suspension of buying and

selling; a pause in the clatter of the workshop and the anxiety of the

desk; and a serious yielding up of ourselves to devout thought and

intelligent worship. This day is absolutely necessary. Natural science

affirms that man and beast require a day of periodical rest. Florists

say that the most prolific plants cease to produce beautiful flowers if

they are not kept from flowering a part of the year. Medical men declare

that keeping the Lord’s Day is of unlimited benefit, and that man cannot

and should not do without it. When Lord Castlereagh broke down from

overwork on three hundred and sixty-five days per year, and through

insanity took his own life, Wilberforce exclaimed: “Poor Castlereagh,

this is the result of the non-observance of the Sabbath.”

When John Quincy Adams was Minister to the Court of Holland, he joined a

society of learned men, who met once a week for mutual improvement. Mr.

Adams, though one of the youngest members, soon became a great favorite.

On one occasion the meeting was adjourned to Sunday evening. Mr. Adams

was not there. His fellow-members noticed and regretted his absence. On

the third Sunday evening it met, Mr. Adams’ chair was still vacant. Many

were surprised that he who formerly was so prompt and punctual should

thus break off. At last the meetings were returned to a week-day

evening, and lo! Mr. Adams was in his place, brilliant and delightful as

ever. The members welcomed him back and expressed their sorrow that

press of business or the duties of his office should so long have

deprived them of his company. “It was not business,” replied he, “you

met on the Lord’s day; that is a day devoted to religious uses by me,

which imparts unspeakable advantages from a faithful observance of it.”

James A. Garfield, when President, showed his respect for this day by

never allowing anything to interfere with his going to church. Like

President Hayes he would walk in order to give his coachman rest. At the

Chicago Convention at which Mr. Garfield was nominated for the

Presidency, many wanted to go on with the balloting after midnight of

Saturday. Judge Hoar, the chairman, was pressed to ignore the Sabbath

and let the Convention proceed. He replied, “Never! This is a

Sabbath-keeping nation, and I cannot preside over this Convention one

minute after twelve o’clock.” On that Sabbath, Garfield attended church

and heard a sermon. At dinner the conversation turned upon the suspense

of the country. One spoke of the deadlock in business created by it;

another of the suspense in Washington, where all were awaiting the

further developments of the Convention. All said something, and when

done, Garfield remarked, quietly but earnestly, to one sitting beside

him: “Yes, this is a day of suspense, but it is also a day of prayer,

and I have more faith in the prayers that will go up from Christian

hearts to-day than I have in all the political tactics which will

prevail at this Convention. This is the Lord’s Day. I have great

reverence for it.”

When General Grant was in Paris, the President of the Republic, as a

special token of respect, invited him to occupy a place on the grand

stand to witness the great racing which occurs in that country on

Sunday. It is considered a discourteous act to decline such an

invitation from the head official of the Republic. Such a thing had

never been heard of, but General Grant in a polite note declined the

honor, and said to the French President, “It is not in accordance with

the custom of my country or with the spirit of my religion to spend

Sunday in that way.” And when Sabbath came that great hero found his way

to the American chapel, where he was one of its quiet worshippers. If

such great men believed and obeyed the command of God, should not every

boy do the same?

“KEEP IT HOLY.”

My boy, keep this day which so many make a day of social festivity or

pleasure holy. Do so because God asks you. Keep it holy by refraining

from work or pleasure. “I thank God,” said Gladstone, “for the Sabbath

with its rest for the body and soul.” Keep it holy by attending divine

worship. Learn to say with David: “How amiable are Thy Tabernacles, O

Lord of Hosts. My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the Courts of the

Lord.” (Psalm 84:1, 2). “I feel,” wrote Coleridge, “as if God had, by

giving the Sabbath, given fifty-two springs in the year.” Keep it holy

by doing good, for it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.

It is said that a Spartan youth was holding the censer at a sacrifice

when Alexander was offering a victim. It chanced that while he held it,

a hot coal fell upon his hand. The youth flinched not, lest by any

utterance or cry the company would be disturbed; “for,” said he, “I am

in the presence of Alexander.” So, my boy, when tempted to neglect home

meditation, the communion of saints at the church, or the sick or needy

in their distress, do not do it, remembering you are in the presence of

Jesus. Keep this day as a day of anticipation, looking forward to that

holy and eternal Sabbath that remaineth for the people of God. Keep it,

honor it, love it, for it is—

—“_the day that God hath blest,

The type of heaven’s eternal rest._”

CHAPTER XXV

Be a Church Member

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXV

BY WAYLAND HOYT, D. D.

When once thy foot enters the church, beware,

God is more there than thou; for thou art there

Only by His permission. Then beware;

And make thyself all reverence and fear.

—_Herbert._

The boy needs the church and the church needs the boy. Why is it that

so many young men are on the downward road? Is it because they have

either greater temptations or less power to resist them than others?

Whether it be one or both, young men need the fellowship, protection

and nurture of the church. My advice to every boy is, join the church.

—_Alvin A. Cober._

Be a church member, my boy, because Christ commands it; because the

church is on the winning side; because it is brave and manly; because to

be a member of Christ’s church is the highest honor. Do not wait about

it. Love Christ, confess Him by becoming one of His declared people.

Besides this, what help there is in the companionship of the church.

[Illustration: Wayland Hoyt]

CHAPTER XXV

BE A CHURCH MEMBER

There are in the United States about seven hundred different kinds of

lodges, chapters and orders, but not one of them can take the place of

the church, or do the work this institution was designed to do. The

church is divine, all other organizations man’s creation. The latter are

temporary, the former eternal.

Sometimes the word church is ill-defined. It is used to designate a sect

or a place of worship. Instead of this, however, it is a people, and a

redeemed people, though used in this connection with people and place.

Jesus designated the church nucleus as those whom God had given Him out

of the world. The first cabinet officers were illiterate fishermen who

were taught at the feet of Jesus, a school infinitely more important

than any college to-day. So true is this that every sceptical

antagonist, whether possessed of the learning and genius of Voltaire,

the brass and audacity of Paine, the polished eloquence of Hume, or the

wealth and dignity of Bolingbroke, has had to bow before it and concede

that it is all-powerful. And this, because its founder Jesus Christ is

the center of attraction and the predominating influence.

WHY BOYS DO NOT GO.

Many boys absent themselves from church. Their excuses are without

number and many of them without sense. Burdette, the Christian humorist,

asks: “So you are not going to church this morning, my son? Ah, yes, I

see. ‘The music is not good;’ that’s a pity! That’s what you go to

church for, is it? And ‘the pews are not comfortable.’ That’s too bad!

the Sabbath is a day of rest, and we go to church for repose. The less

we do through the week, the more rest we clamor for on Sabbath. ‘The

church is so far away; it is too far to walk, and I detest riding in a

street-car, and they’re always crowded on the Sabbath.’ This is, indeed,

distressing! Sometimes when I think how much farther away heaven is than

the church, and that there are no conveyances on the road of any

description, I wonder how some of us are going to get there. And ‘the

sermon is so long always.’ All these things are, indeed, to be

regretted! I would regret them more sincerely, my boy, did I not know

that you will often squeeze into a stuffed street-car, with a hundred

other men, breathing an odor of whisky, beer and tobacco, hang on a

strap for two miles, and then pay fifty cents for the privilege of

sitting on a rough plank in the broiling sun for two hours longer, while

in the intervals of the game a scratch band will blow discordant thunder

from a dozen misfit horns right into your ears, and come home to talk

the rest of the family into a state of aural paralysis about the

‘dandiest’ game you ever saw played on that ground.”

WHAT CHURCH GOING DID.

Ah, my boy, you see what staying away from church does. It develops a

habit of lying. There isn’t one man in a hundred who could go on the

witness stand and give, under oath, the same reasons for not going to

church that he gives to his family every Sunday morning. My son, if you

didn’t think you ought to go, you wouldn’t make any excuses for not

going. No man apologizes for doing right.

A young man from the country went to New York to engage in business. The

first Sunday he visited the old Wall Street church, and was invited by

Robert Lenox, the president of the Bible Society, to a seat in his pew.

The next morning he went to buy leather to start shoe-making. When he

asked for credit, the merchant asked: “Did I not see you yesterday in

Mr. Lenox’s pew?” “I don’t know, sir; I was at church, and a kind

gentleman asked me to sit in his pew.” “Yes, young man, that was Robert

Lenox. I’ll trust anyone that Mr. Lenox invites into his pew. You need

not trouble yourself about references. When the goods are gone, come and

get more.” “The attendance at church that Sunday,” said this young man

in after years, “was the means of my becoming a prominent successful

merchant, and contributor to the support of God’s house.”

A humble brickmason who confessed Christ united with His people. Rising

in meeting, he stated the reason that prompted him to this step. “I used

to think,” he said, “that I could be as good out of the church as in it.

I felt that I was moral and upright and had as clean a character as the

next man; but one day while walking by a building under construction, I

happened to see a new but dirty brick lying in the road useless and

neglected. ‘There,’ said I to myself, ‘are you, Henry Crane, thinking

you are as good a brick out of the church as if you were in it. But you

are of no account to anybody, and nobody cares anything for you. You are

lying around in everybody’s way, and nobody cares to step over you; they

all tread you down into the mud as if you were a stone. If you were

built into the wall, as you ought to be, you would amount to something,

and have an honest man’s place. Then you would be of some use.’ So I

made up my mind that I would not be like that brick any longer. That is

why I have come out on the Lord’s side and joined the Lord’s people,

that I may be built into the wall and have a place in the building of

God.”

WHY ATTEND AND UNITE WITH THE CHURCH?

To attend and be a member of a church should be considered a pleasure

rather than pain, a privilege rather than duty. Some boys go because

they are compelled by parents who are members. They laugh and talk,

instead of worshipping God. Without a blessing they enter the sacred

place, without a blessing they leave.

The most sacred entrance to the Kremlin, in Moscow, is called the

“Redeemer Gate,” because there is hung in it a picture of the Saviour—a

picture of great sanctity. Even the Emperor has to uncover his head as

he passes through this gate. The passage under the gate is long, but

even in a terrific snow storm every one is compelled to uncover his

head. It is said that when Napoleon refused to take his hat off while

passing before the sacred picture, a sudden gust of wind took it off for

him. God’s House is sacred. There He manifests Himself, having declared,

“Ye shall reverence My Sanctuary: I am the Lord.” (Lev. 19:30). And

Jesus said: “My House shall be called the House of prayer.” (Matt.

21:13).

The blessedness derived from attending and uniting with the church

exceeds the blessedness of everything else. God’s Word approves it.

Nehemiah said, “We will not forsake the House of our God.” (Neh. 10:39).

David said, “How amiable are Thy Tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts! my heart

longeth, yea even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my

flesh cry out for the living God.” (Ps. 84:42). Paul exhorts not to

forsake “the assembling of ourselves together.” (Heb. 10:25).

It is at church where God says: “There I will meet with thee, and I will

commune with thee from above the mercy seat.” (Ex. 25:22). It is there

God provides a spiritual feast of good things for the soul. “He brought

me,” said Solomon, “to the banqueting house and His banner over me was

love.” (Cant. 2:4). It is here He reveals His glory: “I will glorify the

House of My glory,” (Isa. 60:7) said God. Jesus declared, “There am I in

the midst.” (Matt. 18:20). Because of this General O. O. Howard stood

the scoffs and sneers at West Point, and said: “I gripped my Bible, shut

my teeth and went for my mother’s and Jesus’ sake.”

To unite with the church is proper and profitable. It is one of the ways

of confessing Christ. That beautiful character, Henry Drummond, united

with the church at twelve. How interesting to read his first experience

in taking part in meeting. “In prayer,” he wrote, “I trembled in voice

and all through. Voice seemed not my own. I had outlined the prayer

during the afternoon, but didn’t remember it.” Little by little however

he became a man who had great liberty in addressing God and pleading

with man.

Many men who live without uniting with the church do not want to die out

of it. When the great shipbuilder John Roach was struck with a mortal

illness, he said. “I want to be received into the church.” Let any

Christian boy consider carefully that out of seven millions of young men

in this land, only two-thirds attend church and only one-twelfth belong,

and he will say with General Grant when baptized by Bishop Newman, “O

that I might live for years, that I might show the joys of being a

consistent member of the church.” Church relationship, my boy, creates

holy desires and aspirations, augments power for doing good, throws a

magic uplifting influence around others and extends the kingdom of

Christ on earth.

RESULTS OF CHURCH RELATIONSHIP.

The results of church relationship are too numerous to mention. To be a

church member glorifies God, enlarges influence, and leads others into

the broad fields of usefulness, where God can own and bless.

In “Darkest Africa,” a great man did a great work, through loving and

uniting with God’s people in youth. In a little village of Scotland,

stood an old church, whose pastor had preached therein for many years.

One Sunday morning he was accosted by one of his deacons, whose face

wore a very resolute but distressed expression. “I came early to meet

you,” he said, “I have something on my heart to say to you, Pastor.

There must be something radically wrong in your preaching and work;

there has been only one person added to the church in a whole year, and

he only a boy.”

The old minister listened. His eyes moistened and his thin hand trembled

on his broad-headed cane. “I feel it all,” said he, “I feel it, but God

knows that I have tried to do my duty, and I can trust Him for the

results.” “Yes, yes,” said the deacon, “but ‘by their fruits ye shall

know them.’ (Matt. 7:20). One new member seems to me a rather slight

evidence of true faith and zeal. I don’t want to be hard; I have had

this matter on my heart and I have only done my duty in speaking plain.”

“True,” said the old man, “but ‘charity suffereth long and is kind:

beareth all things, hopeth all things!’ (1 Cor. 13:4, 7). Ay, there you

have it: ‘hopeth all things!’ I have great hopes of that one boy. Some

seed that we sow bears fruit late, but its fruit is generally the most

precious of all.”

The old minister went into the pulpit with a grieved and heavy heart,

and closed his discourse with dim and tearful eyes. He wished that his

work was done forever and that he was at rest under the blooming trees

in the old churchyard. He lingered in the church after the rest were

gone. He desired to be alone. The place was sacred and inexpressibly

dear to him. It had been his spiritual home from his youth. Before this

altar he prayed over the dead forms of bygone generations, and had

welcomed the children of succeeding ones; and now to be told that his

work was no longer owned and blessed!

No one remained, no one? “Only a boy.” He watched the trembling man. His

soul was filled with loving sympathy. He went to him, and laid his hand

on his black gown. “Well, Robert?” said the minister. “Do you think if I

were willing to work hard for an education, I could ever become a

preacher?” “A preacher?” “Perhaps a missionary.” There was a long pause.

Tears filled the eyes of the minister. At length he said, “This heals

each ache in my heart, Robert. I see the divining Hand now. May God

bless you, my boy. Yes, I think you will become a preacher.”

Some few years ago there returned to London from Africa an aged

missionary. His name was spoken with reverence. When he went into an

assembly the people rose; when he spoke in public there was a deep

silence. Princes stood uncovered before him, nobles invited him to their

homes, and on one occasion he was presented with a sum of five thousand

guineas in recognition of his great services. He had added a province to

the church of Christ on earth; he had brought under the gospel influence

the most savage of African chiefs; had given the translated Bible to

strange tribes; had enriched with valuable knowledge the Royal

Geographical Society, and had honored the humble place of his birth, the

old Scottish church, the United Kingdom and the universal missionary

cause.

Who was the boy? Who was the minister? The latter is forgotten. He

sleeps beneath the trees in the humble place of his labors, but men

remember his work because of what he was to that one boy, and what that

boy was to the world. “Only a boy that had joined the church,” but that

boy was the great missionary Robert Moffatt. Had he neglected church and

mingled with bad company and formed bad habits, what a great work would

have been left undone, what an obscure life he would have lived, and the

name so universally known would never have been uttered with reverence

as it is now!

BEE HUNTING.

Of hunting bees, one writer has said that the manner of catching them is

very ingenious. He puts a piece of honeycomb into a box. Then he catches

a bee and covers him within the box. As soon as the fright of the

prisoner is overcome, he moves about, tastes the honey and is satisfied.

The prison becomes a home. Being loosed, he finds his way back to the

hive and in a little time returns, bringing others with him. He has told

the secret story of his find to his former associates, and they in turn

follow him back until the bee-hunter’s box is filled with a swarm of

bees. This is God’s appointed way of building up His church and saving

the race. He first reveals Himself to one soul, entrancing him with His

love and thrilling his soul with the joys of salvation. This one, having

tasted the sweetness of forgiveness and the joy of hope, goes to

another, narrating his experience and discovery, and he in turn finds

another, until one by one he brings them into the great church hive.

Andrew brings Peter, (John 1:41) Philip brings Nathaniel, (John 1:45)

Joel Stratton brings Gough, Robert Eaglen brings Spurgeon, and you, some

other boy.

O, my boy, attend church regularly. If you are not a member, become one.

Then tell the story of Jesus and His love. Seek to bring others to

church, for if the House of God is the Gate to Heaven, what must Heaven

be? If the songs of Zion, the gospel preached and prayers offered are

cheering and helpful, what must it be to be in the presence of Him who

is the key-note of all songs; the sum and substance of all truth, the

way, and the life? Can you not say:

“_I love Thy church, O God;

Her walls before me stand,

Dear as the apple of Thine eye,

And graven on Thy hand._

_For her my tears shall fall;

For her my prayers ascend;

To her my cares and toils be given,

Till toils and cares shall end._”

CHAPTER XXVI

Be a Worker for Jesus

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXVI

BY C. C. MCCABE

“Forth in Thy name, O Lord, I go,

My daily labor to pursue,

Thee, only Thee, resolved to know,

In all I think, or speak, or do.”

The manifold relations that a boy sustains to society forces him to

labor in many spheres, and each has its special compensation, but the

noblest and best rewarded service is for Jesus. Such calls into

exercise the purest impulses, inspires the best deeds, grants the

truest freedom and protects against destroying vices.

—_Nevin B. Mathes._

You cannot serve a better Master. He will set you free and keep you so.

Any other service is slavery—but His service is perfect freedom. Work

for Him. Let your life count upon the side of Christ, and for the

welfare of the world.

You cannot imagine what a glorious destiny is before you if you give

yourself and your life to Him.

[Illustration: C. C. McCabe]

CHAPTER XXVI

BE A WORKER FOR JESUS

The poet Virgil was said to have cast an enchantment on one of the

public gates of Naples. All who passed the sculptured, smiling face on

one side prospered, but those who passed under the frowning figure on

the opposite side were doomed from the outset to disaster. Many now

believe in such superstitious ideas, and “Chance” is charged with the

ups and downs of thousands. Common sense and experience assure us that

the one main condition of success is work. The practical person takes no

stock in what Shakespeare calls “giddy fortune’s fickle wheel,” but

instead relies on “Heaven helps those that help themselves.”

A dying farmer called to his bedside his three lazy sons and said to

them: “My sons, a great treasure lies hid in the estate which I am about

to leave you.” “Where is it hid?” exclaimed the sons in a breath. “I am

about to tell you,” said the old man, “you will have to dig for it—” His

breath failed him before imparting the weighty secret, and he died.

Forthwith the sons set to work upon the long-neglected fields. They

discovered no treasure, but they learned to work, and when these fields

were sown, and the harvest came, the yield in consequence of the

thorough tilling was prodigious. Then was it they discovered the

treasure concealed in the estate, of which their wise old father had

advised them.

The same rule holds good in the work of Jesus. Work is ordained by God,

and should be ordained by us for God. The establishment of the religion

of Christ in all lands, the numberless churches, the schools of learning

and the asylums for the needy owe all to the energy and toil of the

adherents of Christ. In the Bible Christianity is represented as a

temple, but Christians are the builders. Life is spoken of as a warfare,

but Christians are the soldiers. Work is shown to be the divine test of

greatness, but Christians are the workers. To simply love God is not

sufficient, for love must prove itself by labor. To have faith is not

enough, for “Faith without works is dead.” (James 2:20). It is like a

fish without water and a watch without springs. Philip might have said

to Nathaniel: “I would not be surprised if we met Jesus to-day,” but the

record tells us he “findeth Nathaniel and saith unto him, ‘We have found

Him of whom Moses in the law and the prophets did write.’” (John 1:45).

Harlan Page, pressed with business cares and battling with ill-health,

might have said, “Well, now, I believe God will send laborers into His

vineyard,” but he went to work and led a hundred young men into the

ministry by consecrating his personal influence to Christ.

LAYING BRICKS.

A little over half a century ago a boy heard his pastor say to the

trustees that he would like a new brick walk laid around the old church.

They replied it was impossible as there were no funds in the treasury.

That boy wanted to do something for his Master, so he said to himself:

“I will do what I can to lay the walk about the church.” He went to a

brickyard section of Philadelphia, and asked one of his father’s friends

to give him a thousand brick, of another friend he asked a like amount;

and another, until he thought he had secured a sufficient number to

complete the walk. He then asked some of the men and boys whom he knew

very well to help place them in position. They did so, beginning on

Thursday and completing the work at half past ten o’clock Saturday

night.

This lad had a great desire to know what the pastor would say, so he

made his way very early Sunday morning to a place where he could see his

pastor and not be seen by him. Soon after Dr. Chambers came down the

street and started to go to his study, when he realized that his feet

were standing on a new pavement. He took off his glasses and rubbed

them. Putting them on he began to walk up and down, first on Sansom and

then on Broad Street. He made the journey two or three times. The young

man was soon walking along after him apparently unconcerned. The pastor

had made his last trip over the walk, and turning around saw the lad.

The tears began to flow as he said, “My son, who did this?” The young

man looked up and said, “Dr. Chambers, I helped to do it.” Then Dr.

Chambers put his hands on the young man’s shoulders and said, “God bless

you, my son, you have made your old pastor’s heart glad. You have

greatly aided me in my church work.” That boy was John Wanamaker.

THE COMMAND.

There is one reason which should prompt every boy to work. Jesus says,

“Son, go work to-day in My vineyard.” (Matt. 21:28). He has elected boys

as well as men, and commissioned them to do His will. Note the loving

title which He uses. “Son.” Not slave, or servant, but son, thus

presenting the fact of near relationship. Son, do what? “_Work._” That’s

the philosopher’s stone which turns everything to gold, and the key that

unlocks the treasures of nature. By it the muscles are hardened, the

intellect strengthened, and slumbering genius awakened. “Son, go work!”

When? “_To-day_,” thus showing it is a present need, for the night

cometh when no boy can work.

Ledyard, on being summoned before the Geographical Society of Great

Britain was told they desired him to visit and do certain work in

Africa. After enumerating the perils, the exposure, the hard work, they

asked when he could be ready to start. “To-morrow morning,” was the

reply. The learned men were astonished. They thought it would take weeks

and months to get ready. But God requires even greater promptness than

Ledyard’s. He asks, “to-day.” There’s not a moment that has not a work

assigned to it, and if neglected it is left undone forever. Like a ship

at sea, with compass gone, the boy loses his bearings. It is by the

velocity with which a ball is shot from a cannon that it is kept from

the ground. It is by a peculiar law that electricity will keep to the

wire till it reaches a break, and thus an active Christian boy will keep

at the Master’s work until life ends. He will be a Samuel, saying: “Here

am I,” (2 Sam. 3:5) and a Paul, “What wilt Thou have me to do?” (Acts

9:6).

EQUIPMENT.

God not only calls us to work, but He also has a definite work, and

equips every worker with ability to do that work. It is not sufficient

to testify of being saved and a willingness to be used by God. No. God

has something especially for every Christian to do. As surely as we have

named the name of Jesus, so surely have we been called to do His

service,—a service that is for each one just as definite as for any who

have lived before us. We may not be able to do what we would like, but

we can do a great deal more than we do for the Master. It is not always—

—“_the good thing we accomplish, but the better thing we plan,

Not achievement but Ideal, is the measure of the man._”

There was a boy who led thousands to Christ. He was converted under

somewhat peculiar circumstances, and owed the beginning of his religious

life largely to the influence exerted upon him by the silent performance

of an act of religious duty on the part of a room-mate and

fellow-apprentice. This boy’s early years were such as to produce a very

unquiet conscience, but the claims of religion continued to assert

themselves in his soul amid all his irregularities of conduct. At last

he began to have longings for a better life. Sometimes on a Sabbath he

would go away by himself and pray. “I wanted to be a Christian,” he

said, “but knew not how. I prayed that the Lord would raise up someone

in the house to be my guide. I am sure I was sincere in this, and now

came the turning point of my life. The gentleman with whom I lived was

in need of money, so he took another apprentice for the sake of the

premium. This youth had been religiously educated. The apprentices all

slept in the same room. The first time this boy lodged with us he knelt

down by his bed and prayed in silence. The thought instantly occurred to

me as I looked with surprise on the youth bending before God, that there

was the answer to my prayer. So it proved. I became acquainted with him

and with boyish simplicity he told me the love of Jesus. It was not long

before the light of the Gospel shone in my heart.” This boy that did his

duty so silently and unconsciously is not known to us, but the boy he

led to Christ and who became such a great soul-winner was the eloquent

Henry James.

Joel Stratton was a poor, unlettered young man, but he led the great

temperance worker John B. Gough to Jesus. It was a kind word and a

hearty handshake that brought the white-headed, clear-brained,

sweet-spirited, silver-tongued Bishop Simpson to Christ. Robert Eaglen

is unknown but for one thing. One day standing up in meeting he

attempted to preach the gospel. Before him was Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

of whom the great evangelist Richard Knill once said: “That voice will

be heard by thousands.” Knill exacted a promise from him, that when he

preached in Rowland Hill’s great chapel in London, he would announce the

hymn, “God moves in a mysterious way.” This boy heard Eaglen give out

the text, “Look unto Me, and, be ye saved.” (Isa. 45:22). Then he caught

the eye of the speaker looking at him as he cried, “Look! Look! Look!

only look and be saved.” Through that sermon Charles Spurgeon became a

Christian. At sixteen he preached his first sermon. At nineteen he was

placed on trial as a candidate for a pastorate. He was greeted by an

audience of two hundred persons to hear the first sermon, but before his

three months’ trial was over, the twelve hundred sittings were all

taken, and within a year the house was enlarged. The Royal Surrey Garden

Music Hall was then engaged while a larger tabernacle was being built.

Ten and twelve thousand people flocked to hear him. Rich and poor, lords

and laborers sat at his feet. Men said, “What a brilliant meteor.” But

he proved to be a fixed star. He wrote many books, built orphanages

until five hundred children were sheltered, erected a college and did a

vast amount of good. Great honor is his, but how great that of Robert

Eaglen who led him to Jesus.

ONE BOY’S WORK.

Mrs. Phoebe Palmer once told of a boy in England who went to his pastor

and asked him if there was something he could do for the Lord. The

pastor said, “Why, I don’t know. I do not think you are capable of

teaching a class, and hardly old enough to be a judicious tract

distributor. I don’t know what you can do.” “Seems to me,” said the boy,

“there ought to be something for us boys to do.” The pastor thought a

moment and then he asked, “Is your seat-mate in school a Christian?”

“No, sir, I think not.” “Then go to work, as the Lord shall show you

how, and get him converted. Then take another and another. I cannot tell

you exactly what to do, but if you pray, the Saviour will show you how

to get them saved.” Some months after when Mrs. Palmer was holding

meetings in that place, this boy was lying very ill. The doctors gave

him up to die. His father went to the afternoon meeting, and coming

home, the boy roused up and asked: “Was Ned Smith at the meeting this

afternoon?” “Yes, my son.” “Did he give his heart to the Lord Jesus

Christ?” “No, I think not.” “Oh, dear,” said the dying boy, “I thought

he would.”

The next day his father again went to the meeting. When he came home the

son asked him the same question and expressed the same disappointment

that his friend was not converted. The third day he asked the same

question and received a different answer. “Yes, Ned gave his heart to

the Saviour this afternoon.” “I am so glad,” was the answer. After his

death, his parents opened a little box he kept near him, and found a

piece of paper with forty boys’ names written upon it. The first one was

his seat-mate at the time when he went to the pastor and asked for

something to do for the Lord; the last name was that of Ned Smith. Every

boy on the list was converted. He had taken them one by one in faith and

prayer, giving them books to read, showing them texts of scripture,

taking them to church and talking to them about their sins and how

Christ would forgive them, and the whole forty had been converted

through his efforts.

THE KIND OF A WORKER.

There is plenty of work a boy can do for Jesus. There are tracts to

distribute, acts of love to be shown to the sick and aged. There are

boys who can be influenced to go to Sunday-school and church.

Beethoven’s maxim was, “Not a day without a line,” and the boy’s should

be, “Every day this one thing I do, something to lead a soul nearer to

Jesus.” Be a patient and careful worker. “The one prudence in life,”

said Ralph Waldo Emerson, “is concentration; the one evil is

dissipation.” Paul’s exhortation to Timothy was, “Show thyself approved

unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,” (2 Tim. 2:15), a

first-class workman. To be this demands judicious planning and careful

executing. It is not so much the amount done, but the way in which it is

done. A right motive to a right way is found in the fact: “Thou God

seest me.” (Gen. 10:13).

Hooker, speaking of Edward VI. said, “He died young but lived long, if

life be action.” John Summerfield was but twenty-seven when he died, yet

with a frail body, he lived long enough to tell the Gospel message to

the whole English-speaking race of his time. “So little done, so much to

do,” said Cecil Rhodes on his death-bed. Though a man of affairs and a

prodigious worker he sorrowed over the fact that he was leaving much

unaccomplished. One of Napoleon’s dying veterans received on the

battlefield the grand cross of the “Legion of Honor” from the Emperor’s

hand and said “Now I die satisfied.” My boy, may you be enrolled in

God’s Legion of Honor. Let nothing discomfort you. Make condition your

bond slave, grasp opportunity by the forelock and work out destinies in

sunshine and darkness, so that you may hear the Master’s voice after the

labor and battles of life are o’er.

“_Go labor on; spend and be spent

The joy to do the Father’s will;

It is the way the Master went;

Should not the servant tread it still?_

_Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice!

For toil comes rest, for exile home;

Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom’s voice,

The midnight peal: ‘Behold, I come!’_”

CHAPTER XXVII

Be a Witness for Jesus

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXVII

BY H. W. WARREN

My family and I were in Copenhagen one Fourth of July, so we hung our

American flag out of the window of the hotel. Up came the United States

consul, saying: “I knew there must be some good Americans behind that

flag.” How glad we were to see one of our countrymen in a strange land.

What favors he showed us and what honors he caused to come to us.

We belong to a better country. Let us hang out the flag. The King of the

country said: “If any man serve Me, him will My Father honor,” (John

12:26) and “He that shall confess Me before men, him will I confess also

before My Father which is in heaven.” (Matt. 10:32). What is your name?

Be it John, Henry or whatever else, how pleasant to hear it confessed in

that place, that company and by that royal King.

It is not merely there and then that our names are confessed, but here

and now: the Spirit beareth witness in our hearts that we are the

children of God. The Holy Ghost is a witness to us now, as really as we

are witnesses for God. Mutual relations are best relations. Abel

obtained witness that he was righteous; so may we.

[Illustration: H. W. Warren]

CHAPTER XXVII

BE A WITNESS FOR JESUS

In city courtrooms there is a certain stand known as the “witness

stand,” from which individuals give evidence for or against the accused

whose trial is pending. Sometimes the evidence is the means of

convicting and sometimes freeing the accused. Before giving the

testimony, however, they are required on oath to tell “the truth, the

whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

In like manner this world is one large courtroom, and there are many

witnesses testifying daily for or against right, truth and Christ. Every

political party is championed by witnesses who talk and vote for it.

Satan has his witnesses and they are easily distinguished. The world has

its witnesses. They run after the follies and amusements of this life,

all of which leave an aching void. And why should not Christ, who is

pure, kind, loving and helpful have witnesses? “Ye are My witnesses,

saith the Lord.” (Isa. 43:10). To be a true Christian is to be a witness

for Jesus.

A BRAVE WITNESS.

When Frederick the Great of Prussia was ridiculing Christ and

Christianity before a company of jolly nobles and officers of the army,

there was one brave general who remained gloomily silent. It was Joachim

von Zietan, one of the ablest and bravest officers present. Rising and

shaking his gray head solemnly, he said to the King: “Your Majesty knows

well in war I have never feared any danger, and everywhere I have boldly

risked my life for you and for my country. But there is One above us who

is greater than all men. He is my Saviour and Redeemer, who has died for

Your Majesty, and has dearly bought us all with His own blood. That Holy

One I can never allow to be mocked or insulted, for on Him I repose my

faith, my comfort and my hope in life and death. In the power of this

faith your brave army has courageously fought and conquered. If Your

Majesty undermines this faith, you undermine at the same time the

welfare of your State. I salute Your Majesty.” Frederick looked at the

man in admiration, and in the presence of the illustrious company,

apologized for what he had said. So no boy ever stands for Jesus, but

that he awakens in the heart of those who make light of spiritual

matters a sense of honor and respect for him and his testimony.

HOW TO WITNESS FOR JESUS.

It is not every one who says the most that does the most good. Actions

speak louder than words. Nearness to Christ means Christ shining in the

life. Seneca said regarding the quality of life: “It is the bounty of

nature that we live, but of philosophy that we live well.” Paul said, “I

live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” (Gal. 2:20). “You may depend

upon it,” says Lavatar, “that he is a good man whose intimate friends

are good,” and no friend is so good or dear as Jesus. Every boy should

witness for Christ because wicked men oppose the work He wrought. From

the trial of Christ to the present, there have been those who have

ridiculed His blessed atonement. They have uttered blasphemous epithets

and have advanced many arguments to demolish the church He organized.

Every manner of persecution has been hurled against His people. Yet in

spite of fire, sword, rack and thumbscrew the adherents of Jesus number

more than ever before. Atheists and infidels have warred against the

Christian religion, but we are living witnesses against them and their

theories, “Their rock is not as our Rock, even our enemies themselves

being judges.” (Deut. 32:31).

BEECHER AND INGERSOLL.

Colonel Ingersoll was one day in the society of Henry Ward Beecher and

four or five gentlemen, all of whom were prominent in the world of

literature. Several different topics were discussed with decided

brilliancy, but no allusion was made to religion. The distinguished

infidel was too polite to introduce the subject, but one of the party

finally desiring to see a tilt between Mr. Ingersoll and Mr. Beecher

made a playful remark about Colonel Ingersoll’s idiosyncrasy, as he

termed it. The Colonel at once defended his views with his usual apt

rhetoric and eloquence. He was met by several gentlemen in very

effective repartee. Contrary to the expectations of all Mr. Beecher

remained an abstracted listener. The gentleman who introduced the topic

with hope that Mr. Beecher would answer Colonel Ingersoll, at last

remarked, “Mr. Beecher, have you nothing to say on this question?”

The old man slowly lifted himself from his attitude and replied,

“Nothing, in fact. If you will excuse me for changing the conversation,

I will say that while you gentlemen were talking, my mind was bent on a

most deplorable spectacle which I witnessed to-day.” “What was it?” at

once inquired Colonel Ingersoll, who, notwithstanding his peculiar views

of the hereafter, was noted for his kindness of heart. “Why,” said Mr.

Beecher, “as I was walking I saw a poor blind man with crutches, slowly

and carefully picking his way through a morass of mud in the endeavor to

cross the street. He had just reached the middle of the filth when a

big, burly ruffian rushed up to him, jerked the crutches from under the

unfortunate man and left him sprawling and helpless in the pool of

liquid dirt, which almost engulfed him.” “What a brute he was!” said the

Colonel. “What a brute he was!” they all echoed. “Yes,” said the old

man, rising from his chair and brushing back his long, white hair, while

his eyes glittered with his old-time fire, as he bent them on Ingersoll,

“yes, Colonel Ingersoll, and you are the man. The human soul is lame,

but Christianity gives it crutches to enable it to pass the highway of

life. It is your teaching that knocks these crutches from under it and

leaves it a helpless and rudderless wreck in the slough of despond. If

robbing the human soul of its only support on earth be your profession,

ply it to your heart’s content. It requires an architect to erect a

building; an incendiary may reduce it to ashes.”

The old man sat down and silence brooded over the scene. Colonel

Ingersoll found that he had a master in his own power of illustration

and said nothing. The company took their hats and departed. Unbelief may

scoff but it cannot controvert the fact, Jesus saves to the uttermost

all who come unto Him.

WHAT OTHERS SAY.

A boy should witness for Christ, for as master minds declare, His

character is spotless. Christ stands the ideal among men. The Roman

centurion called Him: “The Son of God” (Matt. 27:54); Judas, “The

innocent blood,” (Matt. 27:4); Pilate, “The Man without fault” (Luke

23:4); Josephus, “The wise man” and Celsus, “The miracle-working

magician.” Diderot the atheist speaking of the history calls it “The

unsurpassed story.” Napoleon declared Christ to be “The Emperor of

Love;” John Stuart Mill “The guide of humanity;” Renan “The greatest

among the sons of men;” Robert Owen “The irreproachable;” Theodore

Parker “The youth with God in his heart;” to which millions add, He “is

all and in all,” (Col. 10:32) “and over all, God blessed for ever.”

THE PROMISE.

A boy should witness for Christ because Christ has promised to witness

for him before His Father. “Whosoever therefore,” said He, “shall

confess Me before men, him will I confess before My Father which is in

heaven.” (Matt. 10:32). Dr. Theodore Cuyler says the word “confession”

is a very deep and far-reaching one. It refers to the heart, then to the

lips, and then to the daily life. Whoever would be saved must embrace

Christ in the heart; this signifies conversion. Next we must acknowledge

Him with the life; this is what is usually styled “a profession of

faith.” Above all, those who make this open confession are expected to

honor Christ by obedience to His commandments; this is vital

Christianity. To all who honestly make confession Christ has promised He

will own as “His brethren and chosen” in this world and in the next.

It was a drummer boy by the name of Charlie Couston that led the great

Dr. Roosvalley to Christ. After the battle of Gettysburg this boy was so

frightfully wounded that it necessitated the amputation of an arm and

leg. When chloroform was about to be administered he politely refused

it. The doctor asked the reason. “Doctor,” said he, “one Sunday

afternoon in the Sabbath-school when I was nine and a half years old, I

gave my heart to Christ. I have been trusting Him ever since, and I know

I can trust Him now. He is my strength and stimulant. He will support me

while you amputate my arm and leg.” The doctor asked if he would take a

little brandy. Looking up, the lad answered, “Doctor, when I was about

five years old my mother knelt by my side with her arm about my neck,

and said, ‘Charlie, I am praying to Jesus that you may never know the

taste of strong drink. Your papa died a drunkard, and I promised God, if

it was His will that you should grow up, that you should warn young men

against the bitter cup.’ I am now seventeen years of age, but I have

never tasted anything stronger than tea or coffee; and as I am in all

probability about to go into the presence of God, would you send me

there with brandy on my stomach?”

The operation began. While cutting through the flesh Charlie never

groaned, but when the surgeon took the saw to separate the bone, the lad

took the corner of the pillow in his mouth, and prayed: “Oh, Jesus,

blessed Jesus, stand by me now.” Five days after this, Charlie sent for

Dr. Roosvalley, to whom he said, “Doctor, my time has come. I do not

expect to see another sunrise, but thank God I am ready to go; before I

die I desire to thank you with all my heart for your kindness to me.

Doctor, you are a Jew, you do not believe in Jesus; will you please

stand here and see me die, trusting my Saviour to the last moment of my

life?”

The doctor remained. Taking his hand Charlie continued: “Doctor, I love

you because you are a Jew; the best friend I have found in this world

was a Jew.” Dr. Roosvalley asked who was that. Charlie answered: “Jesus

Christ, to whom I want to introduce you before I die, and will you

promise me that what I am about to say, you will never forget?” The

surgeon promised. “Five days ago,” said the dying boy, “while you

amputated my arm and leg, I prayed to the Lord Jesus Christ to convert

your soul.” The boy soon died, and the words had their effect, for the

surgeon soon became a Christian.

About eighteen months later, Dr. Roosvalley attended a prayer meeting in

Brooklyn. Among those who gave their testimony was an elderly lady who

said, “Dear friends, this may be the last time I shall have the

privilege of testifying for Christ. My family physician told me

yesterday that my right lung is nearly gone, and my left one is very

much affected; I have but a short time to be with you, but what is left

of me belongs to Jesus. Oh! it is a great joy to know that I shall meet

my boy with Jesus in heaven. My son was not only a soldier for his

country, but a soldier for Christ. He was wounded at the Battle of

Gettysburg, and fell into the hands of a Jewish doctor who amputated his

arm and leg, but he died five days after the operation. The Chaplain

wrote me a letter and sent me my boy’s Bible.” In the letter he informed

me that my Charlie said to the Jewish doctor: “Doctor, before I die, I

wish to tell you that five days ago, while you amputated my arm and leg,

I prayed to the Lord Jesus Christ to convert your soul.” No sooner had

these words fallen from her lips, than the doctor left his seat, crossed

the room and taking her hand said, “God bless you, my sister, your boy’s

prayer was heard and answered. I am the Jewish doctor for whom your

Charlie prayed. His Saviour is now my Saviour.”

Oh, my boy, there is no need of your living or dying without doing what

Charlie Coulston did. Someone is waiting for your advice and invitation

to come to Christ. While a lad was showing Mr. Charles Spurgeon to a

church where he was to preach he was asked, “Do you love your Master?”

The boy stopped and said, “Mr. Spurgeon, for years I have shown

ministers to the church, and not one has ever asked me that question.”

The result was a new life for Christ.

If my boy, you would influence others to love and live for Christ you

must do as the gifted young preacher Tyng exhorted his friends to do. He

had met with an accident that cut short his glorious career. When about

to die there gathered around him the young men who had rallied at his

trumpet call, and lifting his wounded arm, he said, “Young men, I am

about to die. Stand up for Jesus.” The sentence rang out on the air and

did not cease ringing. It was printed in large capital letters,

placarded in church vestries in many denominations, and became the

rallying cry of thousands. My boy, stand up for Jesus;

—“_the strife will not be long,

This day the noise of battle,

The next the victor’s song;

To him that overcometh

A crown of life shall be;

He with the King of Glory

Shall reign eternally._”

CHAPTER XXVIII

Be Loving

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXVIII

BY WARREN RANDOLPH

Love is the root of creation; God’s essence.—_Longfellow._

Love! what things are wrapped up in this word. Joy is love exulting.

Peace is love in repose. Long suffering is love untiring. Gentleness

is love enduring. Temperance is love in training. Meekness is love

under discipline. Goodness is love in action. Therefore my boy be

loving, for “not to know love is not to live.”

—_C. C. Cissell._

It has been well said that the three elements of manliness are love,

principle and courage. Every boy knows that without the two latter he

cannot succeed. But boys are too apt to think that to “be loving”

belongs to girls. Analyze a great man’s character and you will find love

is the main-spring of his action. To be loving and lovable will give him

a stamp which will pass current the world over.

[Illustration: Warren Randolph]

CHAPTER XXVIII

Be Loving

It is related of the Apostle John that when old and feeble he was borne

by his disciples to the House of God, where, spreading his hands, he

addressed the people again and again: “Love one another.” (1 John 4:7).

When asked why he repeated it so often, he answered: “Because there is

nothing else, attain that and you have enough.”

Love is the greatest thing in the world, the pivot on which the

commandments turn, the pillar of the Christian religion and the keystone

in the arch of our salvation. It is a height without top, depth without

bottom, and length and breadth without boundary. It will not yield to

bribes or threats, cannot be burnt by fire, submerged by billows or

restrained by castle bars, but shines in patriotism, bleeds in sacrifice

and dies in atonement.

To define love is impossible. It cannot be framed in sentences. Language

is inadequate to express the feelings prompted by it. No philosopher can

explain its whens, whys and wherefores. No geologist can unearth its

footprints. No rhetorician can find a fit garb to clothe it. Artists

cannot sketch it, scribes cannot pen it, nor can death destroy it.

THE LAW OF LOVE, THE RULE OF LIFE.

Love is a social virtue, “the soul of life.” It is the underlying

principle of voluntary associations and is the governing force of

action. In its relation to etiquette it is courtesy, “Love doth not

behave itself unseemly.” (1 Cor. 13:5). Politeness has been defined as

love in trifles, courtesy as love in little things. In social standing

it is another word for a real gentleman. “Gentleman” has been defined as

a man who does things gently, with love. In its relation to God it is

self-sacrifice. “To be great-hearted, for the love we bear to our

Master, and in imitation of Him, is ideal Christianity, for it is the

religion of Him whose life and death were self-sacrifice.” Such love

lightens the burdens of other lives, sweetens their toils and imparts

music with every step. Such love begets love. It knows no

discouragements and what it does is done gratuitously. To love thus is

to live. Said Phillips Brooks, “Duty makes us do things well, but love

makes us do them beautifully.”

When the noted Dr. George Shrady went on a vacation in the mountains he

left orders not to be called to do professional work on any account.

While resting in a hammock a barefoot boy accompanied by his grandmother

came to him. “I could not keep him away, doctor,” said the aged woman,

“he heard that you were here, that you were the greatest doctor in the

whole world. He said that you could cure him and make him like other

boys. I told him he had no money and could not come; that you would not

bother with him, but he said he knew you would cure him. So here he is,

sir.” The doctor, moved by his simple faith, helplessness, poverty and

rags, prescribed for him. He gave him two weeks of careful treatment, at

the end of which he was able to romp in the fields strong and well. When

Thanksgiving came, the Doctor received by express a rude box. On opening

it, he found a large turkey to which a card was attached with the words:

“Dear Doctor: Here is a nice fat turkey for you. It’s the best I could

send. I love you for your love to me.” The gift and message imparted a

new feature in the doctor’s life. He saw rising above honor, riches or

reputation, love, the _summum bonum_, the greatest thing in the world.

WHOM TO LOVE.

By creation and birth, we are members of one common family, and are

under obligations to feel and care for each other. This principle is

like a cord binding heart to heart. Where it exists it proves itself by

the fruit it bears. “They do not love who do not show their love.” Love

is often blind to faults and failings. “Love suffereth long and is

kind.” (1 Cor. 13:4). While in battle Alexander the Great received a cut

in the forehead, which left an ugly scar. Years after an eminent artist

was requested to paint his portrait, but did not wish to show the scar.

In order to make a perfect likeness and hide the deformity, he sketched

the emperor leaning on his elbow, with his forefinger on his brow, thus

covering the defect. So love, in tone, word, look and gesture, often

“hideth a multitude of sins.” (James 5:20).

Love God. This should be the greatest aim of life. “God is love,” (1

John 4:8), and He commended “His love toward us, in that, while we were

yet sinners, Christ died for us.” (Rom. 5:8). During the reign of terror

in France a young man named Loizerolles was condemned to death. His aged

father would not allow himself to be separated from his son, but

accompanied him to prison. When the jailor a few days later presented

himself at the door and called out the names of those who were to be

executed, this aged man answered for his son who was asleep, and was led

away to the scaffold. As that father gave his life for his son, Jesus

gave His life that every boy should have life everlasting. For this

consideration, should He not receive our love? Should we not love Him as

He demands “with all the heart, and with all the soul, and with all the

mind, and with all the strength?” (Mark 12:30).

Love your parents. Great is the love and many the sacrifices made by

them for a child. From early morning till late at night they plan and

labor for his welfare. Is it any more than right that he love them in

return? To be disrespectful and ungrateful is to invite and incur God’s

displeasure, but to be loving and dutiful is to gain heaven’s approval

and increased parental affection. Filial reverence is one of the best

evidences of a loving heart, and he who loves God loves his parents.

Love your enemies. No counsel need be given to love one’s friends, for

friendship indicates love. To love an enemy seems hard, but it can be

done, and nothing so changes enmity into friendship as love. Love cannot

confine itself to the bosom that cherishes it. It must reveal itself in

deeds of kindness. During the Revolutionary War, a Dunkard leader named

Miller was grievously insulted by a man named Widman, who was afterwards

sentenced to be hung as a British spy. Miller went a long distance to

petition Washington to spare his life. The commander-in-chief said: “I

would like to release Widman, because he is your friend; but I cannot,

even for that consideration.” “Friend!” cried Miller, “why, he’s my

worst enemy, and therefore I want to save him.”

“_Love makes excuses where she might condemn;

Reviled by those that hate her, love prays for them;

Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast.

The worst suggested, she believes the best.

Not soon provoked, however stung and teased,

And, if perhaps made angry, soon appeased.

She rather waives than will dispute her right,

And, injured, makes forgiveness her delight._”

Love everybody. “Beloved,” said John, “if God so loved us, we ought also

to love one another.” (1 John 4:11). It is not a question of color,

education or social position, but the relationship God has made between

us. “And hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all

the face of the earth.” (Acts 17:26). One of the hieroglyphics of Egypt

represents a child with a heart in his hand giving honey to a bee that

has no wings with which to fly from flower to flower in quest of honey.

The child represents the humility of love, the heart cheerfulness of

love, and the giving of honey to the wingless bee the helplessness and

worthiness of the object of love. The opportunity to exemplify love in

its various forms comes often. Go, my boy, through life scattering

flowers in everyone’s pathway. Encourage the struggling, anoint the

suffering, assist the needy, and you will break open barred hearts, melt

into moral pliability iron wills and lead souls to Christ.

DID I DO MY BEST?

Years ago at Evanston a young man was preparing for the ministry. He was

the room-mate of the eloquent Dr. Spencer of the Methodist Episcopal

church. He was a frail lad, but a good swimmer. It was his delight to

give exhibitions of his skill in the boisterous lake. One night, ten

miles out, a steamer with four hundred passengers was wrecked. Next

morning all was excitement in the village. Two hundred men volunteered

for service, among them this young man. A rope was put around his waist,

that his frail body might be recovered should he be killed by the

floating pieces of wreckage. Backward and forward he went for six hours,

helping to save human life. Through his great familiarity with the surf

he was enabled to do more than all the rest together. Out of four

hundred passengers, only thirty came through the breakers alive, and of

these, seventeen were saved by this youth. Between his journeys he stood

before a blazing fire, covered with blankets. But each time an

unfortunate one came near the breakers, he threw off his incumbrances

and plunged again into the water. At first he wore the rope around his

arm, but, coming to a piece of debris to which a drowning person was

clinging, the wreckage struck him in the face. The crowd on shore,

alarmed for his safety, commenced pulling in the line prematurely,

before he had laid hold of the drowning person. Throwing off the rope,

he clutched the man and brought him safely ashore. Walking up the beach,

he saw a gentleman sitting in an elegant carriage, who had evidently

come to the beach with his coachman from his suburban home, and going to

him said: “These people have almost killed me and another accident may

take my life without my having done my work. Will you consent to manage

the rope, not allowing the people to pull until I give the signal? If

you do this, you shall have half of the credit for anything I may be

able to do.” The gentleman consented, and for five hours managed the

rope. The last person saved that day was a man who was coming ashore in

a difficult part of the surf, where the bank was high and precipitous.

Those who came to this part of the surf were absolutely lost, as it

seemed more than a man’s life was worth to save them. This youth saw

this man clinging to a piece of wreck while with the other he held a

bundle.

A sudden lift of the waves brought the man and the raft into full view,

and there streamed out from the bundle a tress of hair. “Cost what it

may, I will save that man or die in the attempt,” said he, “he is trying

to save his wife.” He ran down the beach, following the retreating wave,

kept down as closely as possible to the sand, and let the return wave

pound him. When next seen, he was far out in the water. He swam to the

piece of raft to which the two were clinging. When within six or eight

feet of them, the man cried out: “Save my wife! save my wife!” The brave

swimmer said: “Yes, I’ll save your wife and you also.” Fastening his

hands in their clothing at the back of their necks, he said: “I can

sustain you in the water, but you must swim for your lives and mine. We

must push northward to get beyond this dangerous surf, if we are to be

saved at all.” To the joy of the spectators, he came safely to shore

with both unfortunates, for whom he had so bravely imperilled his life.

Into that one day he put the struggle of his life. Finally he collapsed

and was put to bed. As his room-mate ministered to him, he looked up and

said, “Did I do my best? Did I do my best?” Yes, he did his best as true

love always does. There is no journey too long, no effort too hard, no

suffering too intense, no sacrifice too great for it to make. As with

this youth, so may it be with your—

“_impassion’d soul;

Not as with many a mere part

Of its existence, but the whole;

The very life-breath of the heart._”

THE DURATION OF LOVE.

Love is eternal. All else shall fail, but “Love never faileth.” (1 Cor.

13:8). Wendell Phillips sang of a past golden age, and told in silvery

eloquence of things now lost. Lost the instruments for lifting the

pyramidal stones to their place. Lost the secret of annealing glass, and

Tyrian colors undimmed by centuries. Lost the art of making the Damascus

blade, whose elasticity would permit the point and hilt to kiss each

other. Lost the ancient races of Israel, ancient cities, ancient books,

ancient languages, but love still remains.

So great are our mental powers that we can conceive of the time

according to scientific enumeration and declaration when the oil wells

of the world shall cease, when all the precious metals shall have been

dug and coined, when the sun shall have burnt out, yes, and by the

transforming power of the coming Christ, the faith of Christians shall

be changed into sight and hope blossom into fruition. Then, even then,

love shall forever exist.

Cultivate love, my boy. “Men will not bow down to crowned power, or

philosophic power, or æsthetic power, but in the presence of a great

soul filled with vigor of inspiration and glowing with love man will do

obeisance.” Frank Bragg was only fifteen years of age when he lay dying

in Paducah hospital. He had fought as one of Birge’s sharpshooters. As

the dew of death gathered on his brow, he said, “O, I’m going to die,

and there is no one to love me.” The nurse told him that he had many

friends and that God loved him. “Yes,” said he, “I am not afraid to die,

but I want someone to love me.” “Frank,” said the nurse, “I love you.”

She kissed his pale forehead. “Kiss me again,” he said, “that was given

so like my sister.”

Did you ever think how many struggling hearts, sinful hearts,

disconsolate hearts are saying: “No one loves me?” It remains with you,

my boy, to sweeten many a bitter cup, cast sunshine into many a darkened

soul, extract the thorn of anguish from many a sad heart, and make life

worth living by expressing what John Waterhouse and David Cargill did to

the cannibals of the Fiji Islands: “My love to you.” Love in Jesus

Christ, for love is the—

“_golden charm that binds

The happy souls above,

And he’s an heir of heaven that finds

His bosom glow with love._”

CHAPTER XXIX

Be Hopeful

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXIX

BY H. L. HASTINGS

Hope leads from goal to goal,

And opens still, and opens on the soul;

Till lengthen’d on to faith, and unconfin’d,

It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind.

—_Pope._

Where there is no hope, there can be no endeavor or caution.

—_Johnson._

Owls hoot in the night; larks sing in the morning. The children of

darkness riot and groan in their gloom. The children of light have

“Songs in the night,” (Job 35:10), and “Joy cometh in the morning.”

(Psalm 30:5). God stands by those who stand by Him. If you hope in God,

your hopes will never fail. He promises us the life that now is, and

that which is to come. He can make this life a life of gladness, and the

everlasting life a life of endless peace and pleasure.

“Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing that

ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.” (Romans

15:13).

[Illustration: H. L. Hastings]

CHAPTER XXIX

Be Hopeful

Life properly belongs to the hopeful. It has been said that a pessimist

is one who has the choice of two evils and takes them both. A

discouraged man is defeated before he begins. When a boy, Peter Cooper

had few school privileges. His father being a hatter, he was set to work

pulling the hair from rabbit skins to obtain material with which to make

hats. His health was poor and though having but “half a chance,” at

seventeen he resolved to work for himself. At this time he was living at

Peekskill. Thence he went to New York, where he apprenticed himself to a

carriage-maker for five years for board and two dollars a month. He had

neither time nor money for what the world calls pleasure, but he had the

pleasure of hope. While working for fifty cents a week he resolved: “If

ever I get rich I will build a place where the poor boys and girls of

New York may have an education free.” He then entered the grocery trade

and made some money; then a glue factory, where he became rich. In 1854

the object of his hope was commenced and finished at a cost of $800,000.

“The great object that I desire to accomplish,” said he, “by the

erection of this institution is to open the avenues of scientific

knowledge to the youth of our city and country, and so unfold the volume

of nature that the youth may see the beauties of creation, enjoy its

blessings and learn to love the Author from whom cometh every good and

perfect gift.” It is a source of consolation to know that, in whatever

circumstance a boy may be placed, there is, amidst the desolate and

cheerless scenes a harbinger of comfort, a helm to keep his course in

the right channel, and a north star on which to fix his eyes, namely,

hope. Without it, the world would be desert and man the most wretched of

all God’s creatures. With it, aspiration clings to some tangible reality

as the ivy’s tendril to the oak. There may be failures, but hope

believes in final success. It whispers, “nothing is impossible;” smiles

serenely on the struggling, sustains the aspiring and cheers with a

vivacity of assurance that portends success. As such it lit the lantern

upon the ship of Columbus, waved the torch before Bacon as he descended

into Nature’s laboratory, supported the steps of Newton when he wandered

into the dim solitude of unknown worlds, sprinkled the canvas of Titian

with purple lines of summer, sent Watts’ engine snorting along the rails

and Fulton’s steamboat puffing up the Hudson.

WHAT IS HOPE?

Hope is a beautiful word. Its definition makes every bosom bound and

burn. It is called “Music to the ear of the young;” “health to the

sick;” “the birthright of all;” “the soul’s most effective impulse,” and

a “glorious expectation.” To the warrior it is the victor’s wreath,

amulet and medal of honor. To the student it means the bench, platform,

pulpit, or some other exalted position. To the Christian it means more.

So intimately is it associated with practical godliness that religion is

called “A hope through grace,” (2 Thess. 2:16) “a glorious hope,” “a

better hope,” (Heb. 7:19) “a blessed hope” and “a lively hope.” (1 Peter

1:3). The Christian’s God is named the “God of Hope,” Jesus Christ, “Our

Hope,” (1 Tim. 1:1) and His finished work “the hope set before us in the

Gospel.”

General Grant once said to a personal friend that his habit of

day-dreaming, a kind of large and persistent hoping, had never left him.

In his earlier life he had resigned from the army and things had been

going steadily against him. He was working on a farm near St. Louis,

from which he used to carry wood to the city for sale, and then ride

back in the empty cart. It was a favorite sort of hoping dream of his,

as he rode homeward, to think of himself with Mrs. Grant making a tour

of Europe, and of himself as an officer in the army. Foolish enough such

hoping seemed for a poor farmer jogging homeward in the evening. But

that hope was inspiration to him, and at last the reality of it all

burst the bounds of his most daring dreaming. Hoping thus, even in

Grant’s circumstances, was vastly better than a weak bewailing of his

hard and unpromising plight. It is a noteworthy fact that all through

the war, everyone of Grant’s utterances and dispatches had in it this

note of hope. There could not be found a shadow of a suggestion of

despair or of ultimate defeat. Hope, to him, as to thousands, was a

stimulating factor.

WHAT HOPE IS LIKENED TO.

Like every other good thing hope has many symbols. Watson said: “Hope is

like the cork to the net, which keeps the soul from sinking in despair.”

“It is to man,” said Felthan, “as a bladder to a learning swimmer, it

keeps him from sinking in the bosom of the waves and by that help he may

attain the exercise.” “Hope,” says Howe, “is the engine that moves the

world and keeps the intelligent part of it in action everywhere.” But in

the Scriptures it is symbolized as an anchor: “Which hope we have as an

anchor of the soul.”

When David was sad he said to himself: “Hope thou in God.” What volumes

of thought these words contain. “Hope” and “God” and the word “thou”

linking them together. “Hope _thou_ in God.” That boy who places his

trust in God is never hopeless. Airy fancies may seek to allure him,

treacherous vices may endeavor to beguile him, but hope flits eternal

around the human head and breast, and hangs its rainbow on the blackest

cloud in all the chaste sparklings of an angel from the realms of light.

To give up hope is to give up the beauty of life. It was only when

Paradise was lost that Milton makes Satan exclaim: “Then farewell hope,”

and immediately thereafter, as always the case, he adds: “Evil, be thou

my good.”

THE CERTAINTY OF THIS HOPE.

Paul said in regard to hope, “Sure and steadfast.” Like the anchor whose

flukes get fast beneath the moveless rocks, holding the vessel to its

moorings in spite of the storm, so hope whispers these magic words of

joy, when waves of calamity and sorrow would engulf in the vortex of

despair, “sure and steadfast.” Why? Because the cable that holds the

anchor _hope_ is _faith_ and the rock that holds the flukes of the

anchor is _Christ_, and the reason we believe it is sure, is because the

Word of God says so, for His Word is “Yea and amen to him that

believeth.” We believe because millions have tested and proved it.

Now anchors are not so much needed in mid-ocean, for the water is deep,

the rocks far down, and the reefs distant, so that with a storm before

or behind, the ocean craft could smile and say, “I can race as fast as

you can drive.” It is when nearing the coast that extra care is taken

and the anchor held in readiness, for should a storm arise it might dash

the ship upon the rocks, run it upon a reef or strand it upon the shore.

Nor is the anchor of hope so much needed in the mid-ocean of prosperity,

peace and the fulness of God’s love as it is near the shore when we

start in the Christian life and labor.

ROCKS OF SCEPTICISM.

Without this _sure_ anchor many a boy has drifted on the rock of

scepticism. When the little “squall” of laughter and “windy” arguments

were brought to bear against them, they forgot their promises and

gradually drifted upon this disastrous rock. No boy’s anchor is secure

who reads literature saturated with atheistical sentiments or keeps the

company of infidel characters. Heinrich Heine the sceptic was proof of

this. One day a friend called to see him, when suffering torments from a

disease of the spine. He said: “If I could only walk on crutches, do you

know where I would go? Straight to church.” “You jest,” the friend said.

“No, no, straight to the church,” replied the former scoffer; “my

friend, believe me, it is Heinrich Heine who tells you. After having

reflected on it for years, and after having reconsidered and maturely

weighed what has been written on this subject by men of all sorts,

believe me, I have reached a conclusion that there is a God who judges

our conduct, and that after this life there is another, when the good

will be rewarded and the wicked punished. There are fools, who, having

passed their lives in scepticism and mistake, and denied God in their

words and acts, have not courage to own that they are wholly deceived.

As for me,” he said sadly and almost hopelessly, “I feel compelled to

declare that it is a cursed falsehood which long made me blind. Only at

present I see clearly; and any man who knows me must confess that it is

not because my faculties have become weak, for never was my mind more

clear and strong than it is this moment.”

Without this _sure_ and _steadfast_ anchor many boys have drifted upon

the reefs of temptation. An unanchored ship may lie on the waters as

calmly and beautifully as in a painted picture, but almost before one

realizes, the undercurrent carries it away, and a sudden jar, a terrible

crash informs the captain it has stranded on a reef or struck a rock.

So, too, hundreds of boys have been ruined in like manner, not by the

gales of adversity, or strong winds of persecution, but by the

undercurrents of strong temptations.

What Paul said of those who live by faith may be said of all boys.

“These were tempted.” Temptations are with kings in their castles and

peasants in the field. “They come,” says one, “of plenty, they are born

of success and they are born of defeat.” They are not in themselves

sins, but temptations become sin when the tempted one welcomes and

yields to them. Temptations resemble the rocks which rest their jagged

sides above the waves at low water. No vessel dare come near them. But

after a while the tide comes sweeping into the bay and buries the rocks

under a flood of water so that the largest ships as well as the lightest

skiffs may ride in safety above their teeth of death. We cannot hinder

temptation from coming to us, but we can refuse to heed it. How?

A NOVEL EXPERIMENT.

A story is told of a man who once asked an Eastern king if he could tell

him how to avoid temptation. The king advised the man to take a vessel

brimful of oil and carry it through the streets of the city without

spilling a drop. “If one drop is spilt, your head shall be cut off.” Two

executioners were ordered with drawn swords to walk behind the man, and

carry out his orders. There happened to be a fair going on in the town,

and the streets were crowded with people. However, the man was very

careful, and he returned to the King without having spilled one drop of

oil. Then the king asked: “Did you see anyone whilst you were walking

through the streets?” “No, I was thinking only of the oil, I noticed

nothing else.” “Then,” said the king, “you may know how to avoid

temptation. Fix your mind firmly on God as you fixed it on that vessel

of oil.”

Thank God, this hope in Christ “is sure and steadfast.” You may be

struck “all aback,” or, as Theodore Cuyler said, “may be stripped of

many a topsail which ambition has hoisted or many a spar of prosperity;

you may be obliged to throw out much of your lading into the sea; but if

Jesus Christ is in your soul, you cannot suffer wreck.” The anchor “sure

and steadfast” will hold you, under every circumstance, in every storm,

and in every trial.

A GRECIAN FABLE.

There is a fable told by Homer of a Grecian boy who was pursued by a

giant, whose breath was fire and in whose hand was a huge club. Two

invisible beings assisted the pursued lad. One took his hand and lifted

him forward, the other, casting an invisible cord over him, flew before

him until his speed was doubled and the palace gates gave shelter. This

is a beautiful representation of God’s gentle rule over us. O, my boy,

when the enemy of your soul seeks to enslave or allure you into a trap,

some invisible power will aid you to avoid and escape him. When all

appears dark and gloomy, looking up, one sees a beautiful sky and hears

the lark break forth in song. When discouraged and bowed down with grief

he needs but listen to hear the Saviour whispering, “Hope on, hope

continually, hope thou in God for ‘the Lord will be the hope of His

people.’” And looking up he then can say:

“_O Hope of every contrite heart!

O Joy of all the meek!

To those who ask, how kind Thou art!

How good, to those who seek!_”

CHAPTER XXX

Be Faithful

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXX

BY OPIE RODWAY

I’m not ashamed to own my Lord,

Or to defend His cause;

Maintain the honor of His word,

The glory of His cross.

_Watts._

Be faithful to yourself. See to it that you repent of sin, that you

forsake it, that you go to Christ the great sin-bearer, that you get a

new heart, that you live a holy life.

Be faithful to your companions. Tell them what they ought to be. Tell

them of Jesus who alone can save them.

Be faithful to Christ. Say: “Jesus only.” Jesus my Lord and Master.

Jesus my Saviour and Example. Jesus, my “all in all.” If you would have

an approving Saviour and Judge, be faithful.

“Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life.”

[Illustration: Yes to the goodness of Christ Opie Rodway.]

CHAPTER XXX

Be Faithful

Life may be compared to this book in two respects. First, it has a

beginning, second, an end. It must not be measured, however, by the

number of years one lives as we would number the pages of this book, for

“length of years is no proper test of length of life.” But life must be

measured by what one feels, thinks and does. In the matchless phrase of

Paul: “To live is Christ.”

The exhortation of this chapter is beautifully illustrated by many

characters of the Bible and history. Hananiah, “a faithful man;”

Timothy, “faithful in the Lord;” Tychius and Epaphras, “faithful

ministers;” Onesimus and Silvanus, “faithful brothers,” and Antipas, “a

faithful martyr.” Julius Palmer in Queen Mary’s time, being asked to

recant his faith in Christ, said that he rather would yield his life.

Latimer said that Smithfield had long groaned for him, but he had prayed

that he might be firm in death. When the hour of execution came, he

knelt and prayed, and, as the flames shot up about him, he cried:

“Father of heaven, receive my soul.”

In the first century lived a boy by the name of Polycarp. He was taught

by John the Apostle. After embracing the Christian religion he studied

to preach and finally became a bishop. Persecution soon raged against

the followers of Christ and this man was arrested. On the way to court,

Irenarch, Herod and his father Nicetes met him. They took him into their

chariot and counseled him: “What harm is it to say ‘Lord Cæsar’ and to

sacrifice and be safe?” Polycarp replied, “I will not follow your

advice,” whereupon they thrust him from the chariot, bruising his thigh.

At the Stadium the procunsul urged him: “Swear and I will release thee.”

“Reproach Christ!” rejoined Polycarp, “eighty and six years have I

served Him, and He has never wronged me, and how can I blaspheme my King

who hath saved me?” “Swear by the fortune of Cæsar,” cried the

procunsul. “If you still vainly contend to make me swear by the fortune

of Cæsar,” said Polycarp, “affecting an ignorance of my real character,

hear me frankly declare what I am. I am a Christian.” “I will have wild

beasts,” cried the procunsul, “I will expose you to them unless you

repent.” “Call them,” replied Polycarp. “I will tame your spirit by

fire, since you despise the wild beasts, unless you repent,” said the

officer. “You threaten,” answered Polycarp, “with fire that burns for a

moment, and is then extinct, but you are ignorant of the future

judgment, and the fire of eternal punishment reserved for the ungodly.

But why delay? Do as you please.” Saying this he was led away and burnt

at the stake, which he made memorable by one of the most beautiful

prayers ever uttered.

A Roman Emperor said to a Greek architect, “Build me a grand coliseum,

and if it suits me, I will crown you in the presence of my people, and I

will make a great day of festival on your account.” The architect did

the work magnificently. The day for opening arrived. In the coliseum

were the emperor and the architect. The former arose, amid the plaudits

of a vast assembly, and said, “We have gathered here to-day to open this

coliseum, and to honor the Greek architect. It is a great day for the

Roman Empire. Let this building be prosperous, and let honor be put on

the Greek architect. O! we must have a festival day. Bring out those

Christians and let them be put to death at the mouth of the lions!”

The Christians were put in the center of the amphitheater. It was to be

a great celebration in their destruction. Then the lions, hungry and

three-fourths starved, were let out of their dens in the side of the

amphitheater, and they came forth with mighty spring to destroy and rend

the Christians, and all the galleries shouted, “Huzza! Huzza! Long live

the Emperor!” Then the Greek architect arose in one of the galleries,

and shouted until, in the vast assemblage, all heard him, “I, too, am a

Christian!”

They seized him in their fury and flung him to the wild beasts, until

his body, bleeding and dead, was tumbled over and over again in the dust

of the amphitheater. He was “faithful unto death!”

UNFAITHFULNESS AND ITS CAUSE.

Many boys start well in the Christian life, but in a brief time stray

away. They put their hand to the plow but soon look back. They boil over

with enthusiasm while the interest is at white heat, but when trials and

ridicule come they follow Christ at a distance. They renounce the world

for a season, but like Demas soon come to it again. Many who have at

some time been numbered with the saints have later, like Judas, turned

out to be betrayers.

Benedict Arnold battled nobly for the American colonies, but he

blackened his fair name beyond the power of rehabilitation when he

plotted to secure and betray West Point. It is pathetic to read of his

last hours in London when he donned his old American uniform, put on the

insignia that Washington gave him after his victory at Saratoga, and

said: “Let me die in this old uniform in which I fought my battles. May

God forgive me for ever putting on any other.”

This reminds us of Esau’s remorse when he lost his chieftainship, and

the despair of Judas after selling his Master. Infidelity to trust is an

awful sin. Unfaithfulness is inexcusable and often brings with it direst

penalty. It is a gradually increasing sin. There is first a lack of love

to God. Then, like Peter on the sea and Elijah under the juniper tree,

disbelief creeps into the heart, earnestness is lost, unwatchfulness

results, joy vanishes and unholy living follows. In the end, unless

there is a returning to God like the prodigal son to his father, death

becomes sad and eternity awful.

DEAD ON THE FIELD OF HONOR.

Faithfulness is a beautiful and noble characteristic, which never fails

to bring respect and honor. Fame comes only to a few, but faithfulness

should actuate the life of every boy. Latour D’Auberque was only a

private soldier who defended alone a fort in a mountain pass against a

regiment of Austrian soldiers. He knew it was important that the

Austrian army should not pass through this mountain defile, and he

hastened to inform the garrison of their approach. When he arrived he

found the soldiers had deserted, leaving their guns.

D’Auberque loaded rapidly and fired upon the advancing regiment, causing

fearful havoc. For one hour he kept the Austrians at bay. Finally he

raised a flag and sounded a bugle, thus announcing the fort would

surrender if the garrison should be permitted to carry out their arms

and depart in safety. The proposition was accepted, and D’Auberque took

his arms full of guns and marched out alone. “Where are the others?”

cried the Austrians. “There are no others,” replied the brave grenadier.

“I defended the fort alone.” The Austrians threw their caps in the air

and shouted “Hurrah!” They honored the man who could and would stand

alone, though many of their comrades had fallen under his fire. When

Napoleon heard of the brave action, he offered to make him an officer,

but D’Auberque refused to accept. One day he was killed in battle.

Whenever after the roll was called, a grenadier, by the command of

Napoleon, stepped forward and answered, “Dead on the field of honor.”

THE PROMISE TO THE “FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.”

When John was banished by the cruel Domitian to the isle of Patmos, he

had a vision in which he was commanded to write to the pastor of the

church in Smyrna concerning many things. He closed his letter with these

words: “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of

life.” What a promise! No other person ever offered such a reward with

such a condition. Faithfulness must characterize the aspirant, not for a

few days, months or years, but “unto death.” Then there are no terrors

for the Christian. As the bee loses its power to hurt when its sting has

been removed, so death had no sting for the child of God. It lost its

power to harm when Christ died for us.

THE ARAB MARTYR.

It was about three hundred and fifty years ago that a martyrdom took

place, long considered legendary, but which was verified in 1853. An

Arab baby was taken by Spanish soldiers and brought to Oran to be sold

as a slave. The good Vicar-general, Juan Caro, bought him and named him

Geronimo. When he was eight years of age, some Arab slaves escaped from

Oran, and, thinking to do the boy a kindness, took him with them. For

years he lived with his people as a Mahometan, but the holy faith which

through Juan Caro had been planted in the boy’s heart had taken firm

root and could not be destroyed. For twenty-five years he remained with

them and then ran away and returned to the Vicar-general. “Because I

wished to live henceforth in the faith of the Divine Saviour,” he said,

“I returned to you.” Juan Caro was delighted. He received the young Arab

as a lost child.

Soon after he entered the Spanish Guard as a soldier and after

performing many brave acts received a high military position. He married

and for ten years nothing but happiness shone into his life. He won the

respect and confidence of all. He was Juan Caro’s right hand man, and

his wife was a daughter to his adopted father. One bright May day in

1569 news came to Oran that a small Arab encampment was a short distance

away. The rumor did not seem important. A handful of Spaniards could

easily manage the Arabs, at least so thought Geronimo. Taking nine

soldiers he manned a little boat and rowed out of the safe harbor and

along the blue sea past the coral fishery of Mers-el-Kebir. Suddenly two

Moorish brigantines which had been lying in wait chased and ran them

down. The nine soldiers escaped but Geronimo, who was a marked man, was

seized and carried to Euldij Ali, the Calabrian renegade. A great cry

spread among the Arabs through Algeria that the apostate was captured.

The Moors who knew his history made a solemn vow that they would restore

him to his old religion. For this they sent Marabouts to convert him

with arguments and fair promises, but they returned discomfited to

Euldij Ali. Another method was now tried. Geronimo was loaded with

chains, treated with the utmost cruelty and when faint from torture and

scarcely able to speak, the Marabouts stood around him offering him

liberty, power, honor and riches. No offer, however, made him deny his

faith, no longing for freedom made him forswear for one single moment

his religion. Once, after some most horrible threats, he raised his poor

suffering head, and with a voice so weak it could scarcely be heard, he

said, “They think they will make me a Mahometan, but that they shall

never do, even if they kill me.”

For four months Euldij Ali gloated over the daily tortures he was

inflicting on Geronimo. At last the sameness of cruelty palled upon him,

and he was determined to invent a new and more hideous revenge for the

stubbornness of his captive. One morning the desired idea came to him.

Examining the works of a fort by the gate of Bab-el-Oned, he saw a block

of beton standing by the great stones. This block was a mould in the

shape of the immense stones, filled with a kind of concrete. When the

concrete was sufficiently hardened, the wall was to be built with it.

Here was the height of torture. Here was the most exquisitely painful

death man might devise! The dog of a slave should be laid in a similar

mould, the liquid plaster poured over him, and the renegade, built alive

into the wall, should be converted into stone. Calling a mason he said:

“Michel, you see this empty mould of beton? For the present leave it. I

have a mind to make beton of that dog of Oran who refuses to come back

to the faith of Islam.”

The poor mason finished his day’s work with a sad heart. As soon as he

entered the prison where Geronimo was a captive he informed him of

Euldij Ali’s intention. Geronimo calmly answered, “God’s holy will be

done. Let not those miserable men think they will frighten me out of the

faith of Christ by the idea of this cruel death. May my blessed Saviour

only pardon my sins, and preserve my soul.”

The whole of that night the brave young Arab spent in prayer and

preparation for the tortures which he knew were awaiting him. Between

two and three o’clock the next morning a guard summoned him to the

Pasha’s presence, where stood a great multitude of Turks and Arabs in

their gorgeous robes. He was then dragged to the gate of Bab-el-Oned,

being beaten all the way. Euldij Ali addressed him slowly and clearly.

He pointed out every detail of the fearful death, showed him the block

of beton, and then said: “Do you still refuse to return to the faith of

Islam?” “I am a Christian, and as a Christian I will die,” was

Geronimo’s answer. “As you will,” replied the Pasha. Pointing to the

beton, he said, “Then here shall you be buried alive.” “Do your will.

Death shall not make me abandon my faith.” The Pasha raised his hand.

The soldiers stepped forward and removed the chain from the prisoner’s

leg. His hands were bound behind his back, his legs crossed and tied

together. Then, lifting the poor man, they laid him face downward in the

mould. A renegade Spaniard named Tamango, desiring to show what a

fervent Mahometan he was, jumped on Geronimo’s body and broke his ribs.

This act so pleased Euldij Ali that others followed his example. The

plaster was then poured over him, and the brave Christian was

suffocated.

Three hundred years later the noble Arab’s martyrdom was brought to

light and the story verified. In the museum of Algiers is the cast. It

shows a slight figure, a face with veins all swollen, a poor mouth

closed with a patient determined expression, hands tied, legs swollen,

even the broken ribs are distinguished. He was “faithful unto death.”

REWARD OF FAITHFULNESS.

When Petrarch was crowned at Rome, it was by the supreme magistrate of

the Republic. Twelve youths were arrayed in scarlet. Six representatives

of the most illustrious families, in green robes, with garlands of

flowers, witnessed the scene. When the laurel crown was placed on his

head, the magistrate said, “This is the reward of merit.” And the people

shouted, “Long live the poet.” But you, my boy, if faithful to the end

shall be crowned in the presence of all the high dignitaries of heaven,

by King Jesus, with a crown that fadeth not away, and a radiance that

vies with the brightness of blazing suns as they run their eternal

course.

My boy, with what better exhortation can this volume close than, “Be

faithful”? Being the architects of your own weal or woe, be courageous

like Joshua, self-reliant like Nehemiah, obedient like Abraham,

persevering like Jacob, decisive like Moses, administrative like

Solomon, above reproach like Daniel, long suffering like Paul,

self-disciplined like David, prayerful like Elijah, masters of passions

like Joseph, bold like Peter, self-surrendered like Noah, Godlike like

Enoch, faith-acting like Abel, and in all things, with all persons, at

all time exemplify the spirit of the Christ.

Be faithful. Faithful to your Christian profession, faithful to your

church, faithful to Christ, faithful under all circumstances and in all

places, faithful unto death. Above the grave of his hero Homer inscribed

the words, “He was a brave man.” Above his hero Plato wrote, “He was a

wise man.” Above his hero Alcibiades said, “He was a rich man,” but the

motto for the Christian’s tomb is that which is sculptured beneath

Lincoln’s great name and which he wished above all things history might

write of him: “He was faithful.” And that of Rev. Henry Weston Smith,

who was killed by the Indians while on his way from Deadwood, Dakota, to

preach at Crook City, “Faithful unto death.”

When Allen K. Capron was killed at Las Guasimas, his father lifted the

hat that covered his face, and said, “Well done, my boy.” May others say

of you, “He was faithful,” and may Christ say to you, “Well done!”

“_Here’s a hand to the boy who has courage

To do what he knows to be right.

When he falls in the way of temptation,

He has a hard battle to fight.

Who strives against self and his comrades

Will find a most powerful foe;

All honor to him if he conquers;

A cheer for the boy who says, ‘No!’_

“_There’s many a battle fought daily

The world knows nothing about.

There’s many a brave young soldier

Whose strength puts a legion to rout.

And he who fights sin single-handed

Is more of a hero, I say

Than he who leads soldiers to battle,

And conquers by arms in the fray._

“_Be steadfast, my boy, when you’re tempted,

And do what you think to be right;

Stand firm by the colors of manhood,

And you will o’ercome in the fight.

‘The right’ be your battle-cry ever

In waging the warfare of life;

And God, who knows who are the heroes,

Will give you the strength for the strife._”

“MY PLEDGE.”

_I WILL

Keep to the right as the law directs,

Keep from the world my friends’ defects.

Keep all my thoughts on the purest themes,

Keep from my eyes the motes and beams.

Keep true my deeds, my honor bright,

Keep firm my faith in God and right.

Keep free from every sin and stain,

Keep from the ways that bring me pain.

Keep free my tongue from words of ill,

Keep right my aim, and good my will.

Keep all my acts from passion free,

Keep strong my hope, no envy see.

Keep watchful care o’er tongue and hand.

Keep firm my feet, by justice stand.

Keep true my word, a sacred thing,

Keep from the snares the tempters bring.

Keep faith with each I call a friend,

Keep full in view the final end.

Keep firm my courage, bold and strong,

Keep up the right and down the wrong.

Keep well the words of wisdom’s school,

Keep warm by night, by day keep cool._

MY SYMPHONY.

“To live content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and

wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act

frankly, to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open

heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry

never;—in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow

up through the common. This is to be my symphony.”

WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Page Changed from Changed to

111 The practice is unfit a scholar The practice is unfit for a

or a gentleman. scholar or a gentleman.

1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in

spelling.

2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.

3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.