possible that there could be danger in hastening this change, is drawn
from the observation of what takes place sometimes with regard to
intellectual advancement. It is seen that some young men of great
ambition, or remarkable love of knowledge, do really injure their
health, and exhaust their minds, by an excess of early study. I always
grieve over such cases exceedingly; not only for the individual's sake
who is the sufferer, but also for the mischievous effect of his example.
It affords a pretence to others to justify their own want of exertion;
and those to whom it is in reality the least dangerous, are always the
very persons who seem to dread it the most. But we should clearly
understand, that this excess of intellectual exertion at an early age,
is by no means the same thing with hastening the change from
childishness to manliness. We are all enough aware, in common life, that
a very clever and forward boy may be, in his conduct, exceeding
childish; that those whose talents and book-knowledge are by no means
remarkable, may be, in their conduct, exceedingly manly. Examples of
both these truths instantly present themselves to my memory, and perhaps
may do so to some of yours. I may say farther, that some whose change
from childhood to manhood had been, in St. Paul's sense of the terms,
the most remarkably advanced, were so far from being distinguished for
their cleverness or proficiency in their school-work, that it would
almost seem as if their only remaining childishness had been displayed
there. What I mean, therefore, by the change from childhood to manhood,
is altogether distinct from a premature advance in book-knowledge, and
involves in it nothing of that over-study which is dreaded as so
injurious.
Yet it is true that I described the change from childhood to manhood, as
a change from ignorance to wisdom. I did so, certainly; but yet, rare as
knowledge is, wisdom is rarer; and knowledge, unhappily, can exist
without wisdom, as wisdom can exist with a very inferior degree of
knowledge. We shall see this, if we consider what we mean by knowledge;
and, without going into a more general definition of it, let us see what
we mean by it here. We mean by it, either a knowledge of points of
scholarship, of grammar, and matters connected with grammar; or a
knowledge of history and geography; or a knowledge of mathematics: or,
it may be, of natural history; or, if we use the term, "knowledge of the
world," then we mean, I think, a knowledge of points of manner and
fashion; such a knowledge as may save us from exposing ourselves in
trifling things, by awkwardness or inexperience. Now the knowledge of
none of these things brings us of necessity any nearer to real
thoughtfulness, such as alone gives wisdom, than the knowledge of a
well-contrived game. Some of you, probably, well know that there are
games from which chance is wholly excluded, and skill in which is only
the result of much thought and calculation. There is no doubt that the
game of chess may properly be called an intellectual study; but why does
it not, and cannot, make any man wise? Because, in the first place, the
calculations do but respect the movements of little pieces of wood or
ivory, and not those of our own minds and hearts; and, again, they are
calculations which have nothing to do whatever with our being better
men, or worse, with our pleasing God or displeasing him. And what is
true of this game, is true no less of the highest calculations of
Astronomy, of the profoundest researches into language; nay, what may
seem stranger still, it is often true no less of the deepest study even
of the actions and principles of man's nature; and, strangest of all, it
may be, and is often true, also, of the study of the very Scripture
itself; and that, not only of the incidental points of Scripture, its
antiquities, chronology, and history, but of its very most divine
truths, of man's justification and of God's nature. Here, indeed, we are
considering about things where wisdom, so to speak, sits enshrined. We
are very near her, we see the place where she abides; but her very self
we obtain not. And why?--but because, in the most solemn study, no less
than in the lightest, our own moral state may be set apart from our
consideration; we may be unconscious all the while of our great want;
and forgetting our great business, to be reconciled to God, and to do
his will: for wisdom, to speak properly, is to us nothing else than the
true answer to the Philippian jailor's question, "What must I do to
be saved?"
Now then, as knowledge of all kinds may be gained without being
received, or meant at all to be applied, as the answer to this question,
so it may be quite distinct from wisdom. And when I use the term
thoughtfulness, as opposed to a child's carelessness, I mean it to
express an anxiety for the obtaining of this wisdom. And farther, I do
not see how this wisdom, or this thoughtfulness, can be premature in any
one; or how it can exhaust before their time any faculties, whether of
body or mind. This requires no sitting up late at night, no giving up of
healthful exercise; it brings no headaches, no feverishness, no strong
excitement at first, to be followed by exhaustion afterwards. Hear how
it is described by one who spoke of it from experience. "The wisdom that
is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be
entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without
hypocrisy." There is surely nothing of premature exhaustion
connected-with any one of these things.
Or, if we turn to the third point of change from childhood to a
Christian manhood, the change from selfishness to unselfishness, neither
can we find any possible danger in hastening this. This cannot hurt our
health or strain our faculties; it can but make life at every age more
peaceful and more happy. Nor indeed do I suppose that any one could
fancy that such a change was otherwise than wholesome at the earliest
possible period.
There may remain, however, a vague notion, that generally, if what we
mean by an early change from childishness to manliness be that we should
become religious, then, although it may not exhaust the powers, or
injure the health, yet it would destroy the natural liveliness and
gaiety of youth, and by bringing on a premature seriousness of manner
and language, would be unbecoming and ridiculous. Now, in the first
place, there is a great deal of confusion and a great deal of folly in
the common notions of the gaiety of youth. If gaiety mean real happiness
of mind, I do not believe that there is more of it in youth than in
manhood; if for this reason only, that the temper in youth being
commonly not yet brought into good order, irritation and passion are
felt, probably, oftener than in after life, and these are sad drawbacks,
as we all know, to a real cheerfulness of mind. And of the outward
gaiety of youth, there is a part also which is like the gaiety of a
drunken man; which is riotous, insolent, and annoying to others; which,
in short, is a folly and a sin. There remains that which strictly
belongs to youth, partly physically--the lighter step and the livelier
movement of the growing and vigorous body; partly from circumstances,
because a young person's parents or friends stand between him and many
of the cares of life, and protect him from feeling them altogether;
partly from the abundance of hope which belongs to the beginning of
every thing, and which continually hinders the mind from dwelling on
past pain. And I know not which of these causes of gaiety would be taken
away or lessened by the earlier change from childhood to manhood. True
it is, that the question, "What must I do to be saved?" is a grave one,
and must be considered seriously; but I do not suppose that any one
proposes that a young person should never be serious at all. True it is,
again, that if we are living in folly and sin, this question may be a
painful one; we might be gayer for a time without it. But, then, the
matter is, what is to become of us if we do not think of being
saved?--shall we be saved without thinking of it? And what is it to be
not saved but lost? I cannot pretend to say that the thought of God
would not very much disturb the peace and gaiety of an ungodly and
sinful mind; that it would not interfere with the mirth of the bully, or
the drunkard, or the reveller, or the glutton, or the idler, or the
fool. It would, no doubt; just as the hand that was seen to write on the
wall threw a gloom over the guests at Belshazzar's festival. I never
meant or mean to say, that the thought of God, or that God himself, can
be other than a plague to those who do not love Him. The thought of Him
is their plague here; the sight of Him will be their judgment for ever.
But I suppose the point is, whether the thought of Him would cloud the
gaiety of those who were striving to please Him. It would cloud it as
much, and be just as unwelcome and no more, as will be the very actual
presence of our Lord to the righteous, when they shall see Him as He is.
Can that which we know to be able to make old age, and sickness, and
poverty, many times full of comfort,--can that make youth and health
gloomy? When to natural cheerfulness and sanguineness, are added a
consciousness of God's ever present care, and a knowledge of his rich
promises, are we likely to be the more sad or the more unhappy?
What reason, then, is there for any one's not anticipating the common
progress of Christian manliness, and hastening; to exchange, as I said
before, ignorance for wisdom, selfishness for unselfishness,
carelessness for thoughtfulness? I see no reason why we should not; but
is there no reason why we should? You are young, and for the most part
strong and healthy; I grant that, humanly speaking, the chances of early
death to any particular person among you are small. But still,
considering what life is, even to the youngest and strongest, it does
seem a fearful risk to be living unredeemed; to be living in that state,
that if we should happen to die, (it may be very unlikely, but still it
is clearly possible,)--that if we should happen to die, we should be
most certainly lost for ever. Risks, however, we do not mind; the
chances, we think, are in our favour, and we will run the hazard. It may
be so; but he who delays to turn to God when the thought has been once
put before him, is incurring something more than a risk. He may not die
these fifty or sixty years; we cannot tell how that may be; but he is
certainly at this very present time hardening his heart, and doing
despite unto the Spirit of Grace. By the very wickedness of putting off
turning to God till a future time, he lessens his power of turning to
Him ever. This is certain; no one can reject God's call without becoming
less likely to hear it when it is made to him again. And thus the
lingering wilfully in the evil things of childhood, when we might be at
work in putting them off, and when God calls us to do so, is an infinite
risk, and a certain evil;--an infinite risk, for it is living in such a
state that death at any moment would be certain condemnation;--and a
certain evil, because, whether we live or not, we are actually raising
up barriers between ourselves and our salvation; we not only do not draw
nigh to God, but we are going farther from Him, and lessening our power
of drawing nigh to Him hereafter.
LECTURE IV.
* * * * *
COLOSSIANS i. 9.
_We do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled
with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual
understanding_.
This is the first of three verses, all of them forming a part of the
Epistle which was read this morning, and containing St. Paul's prayer
for the Colossians in all the several points of Christian excellence.
And the first thing which he desires for them, as we have heard, is,
that they should be filled with the knowledge of God's will in all
wisdom and spiritual understanding; or, as he expresses the same thing
to the Ephesians, that they should be not unwise, but understanding what
the will of the Lord is. He prays for the Colossians that they should
not be spiritually foolish, but that they should be spiritually wise.
The state of spiritual folly is, I suppose, one of the most universal
evils in the world. For the number of those who are naturally foolish is
exceedingly great; of those, I mean, who understand no worldly thing
well; of those who are careless about everything, carried about by every
breath of opinion, without knowledge, and without principle. But the
term spiritual folly includes, unhappily, a great many more than these;
it takes in not those only who are in the common sense of the term
foolish, but a great many who are in the common sense of the term
clever, and many who are even in the common sense of the terms, prudent,
sensible, thoughtful, and wise. It is but too evident that some of the
ablest men who have ever lived upon earth, have been in no less a degree
spiritually fools. And thus, it is not without much truth that Christian
writers have dwelt upon the insufficiency of worldly wisdom, and have
warned their readers to beware, lest, while professing themselves to be
wise, they should be accounted as fools in the sight of God.
But the opposite to this notion, that those who are, as it were, fools
in worldly matters are wise before God; although this also is true in a
certain sense, and under certain peculiar circumstances, yet taken
generally, it is the very reverse of truth; and the careless and
incautious language which has been often used on this subject, has been
extremely mischievous. On the contrary, he who is foolish in worldly
matters is likely also to be, and most commonly is, no less foolish in
the things of God. And the opposite belief has arisen mainly from that
strange confusion between ignorance and innocence, with which many
ignorant persons seem to solace themselves. Whereas, if you take away a
man's knowledge, you do not bring him to the state of an infant, but to
that of a brute; and of one of the most mischievous and malignant of the
brute creation. For you do not lessen or weaken the man's body by
lowering his mind; he still retains his strength and his passions, the
passions leading to self-indulgence, the strength which enables him to
feed them by continued gratification. He will not think it is true to
any good purpose; it is very possible to destroy in him the power of
reflection, whether as exercised upon outward things, or upon himself
and his own nature, or upon God. But you cannot destroy the power of
adapting means to ends, nor that of concealing his purposes by fraud or
falsehood; you take only his wisdom, and leave that cunning which marks
so notoriously both the savage and the madman. He, then, who is a fool
as far as regards earthly things, is much more a fool with regard to
heavenly things; he who cannot raise himself even to the lower height,
how is he to attain to the higher? he who is without reason and
conscience, how shall he be endowed with the spirit of God?
It is my deep conviction and long experience of this truth, which makes
me so grieve over a want of interest in your own improvement in human
learning, whenever I observe it, over the prevalence of a thoughtless
and childish spirit amongst you. I grant that as to the first point
there are sometimes exceptions to be met with; that is to say, I have
known persons certainly whose interest in their work here was not great,
and their proficiency consequently was small; but who, I do not doubt,
were wise unto God. But then these persons, whilst they were indifferent
perhaps about their common school-work, were anything but indifferent as
to the knowledge of the Bible: there was no carelessness there; but they
read, and read frequently, books of practical improvement, or relating
otherwise to religious matters, such as many, I believe, would find even
less inviting than the books of their common business. So that although
there was a neglect undoubtedly of many parts of the school-work, yet
there was no spirit of thoughtlessness or childishness in them, nor of
general idleness; and therefore, although I know that their minds did
suffer and have suffered from their unwise neglect of a part of their
duty, yet there was so much attention bestowed on other parts, and so
manifest and earnest a care for the things of God, that it was
impossible not to entertain for them the greatest respect and regard.
These, however, are such rare cases, that it cannot be necessary to do
more than thus notice them. But the idleness and want of interest which
I grieve for, is one which extends itself but too impartially to
knowledge of every kind: to divine knowledge, as might be expected, even
more than to human. Those whom we commonly find careless about their
general lessons, are quite as ignorant and as careless about their
Bibles; those who have no interest in general literature, in poetry, or
in history, or in philosophy, have certainly no greater interest, I do
not say in works of theology, but in works of practical devotion, in the
lives of holy men, in meditations, or in prayers. Alas, the interest of
their minds is bestowed on things far lower than the very lowest of all
which I have named; and therefore, to see them desiring something only a
little higher than their present pursuits, could not but be encouraging;
it would, at least, show that the mind was rising upwards. It may,
indeed, stop at a point short of the highest, it may learn to love
earthly excellence, and rest there contented, and seek for nothing more
perfect; but that, at any rate, is a future and merely contingent evil.
It is better to love earthly excellence than earthly folly; it is far
better in itself, and it is, by many degrees, nearer to the kingdom
of God.
There is another case, however, which I cannot but think is more
frequent now than formerly; and if it is so, it may be worth while to
direct our attention to it. Common idleness and absolute ignorance are
not what I wish to speak of now, but a character advanced above these; a
character which does not neglect its school-lessons, but really attains
to considerable proficiency in them; a character at once regular and
amiable, abstaining from evil, and for evil in its low and grosser
forms, having a real abhorrence. What, then, you will say, is wanting
here? I will tell you what seems to be wanting--a spirit of manly, and
much more of Christian, thoughtfulness. There is quickness and
cleverness; much pleasure, perhaps, in distinction, but little in
improvement; there is no desire of knowledge for its own sake, whether
human or divine. There is, therefore, but little power of combining and
digesting what is read; and, consequently, what is read passes away, and
takes no root in the mind. This same character shows itself in matters
of conduct; it will adopt, without scruple, the most foolish,
commonplace notions of boys, about what is right and wrong; it will not,
and cannot, from the lightness of its mind, concern itself seriously
about what is evil in the conduct of others, because it takes no regular
care of its own, with reference to pleasing God; it will not do anything
low or wicked, but it will sometimes laugh at those who do; and it will
by no means take pains to encourage, nay, it will sometimes thwart and
oppose any thing that breathes a higher spirit, and asserts a more manly
and Christian standard of duty.
I have thought that this character, with its features more or less
strongly marked, has shown itself sometimes amongst us, marring the good
and amiable qualities of those in whom we can least bear to see such a
defect, because there is in them really so much to interest in their
favour. Now the number of persons of extraordinary abilities who may be
here at any one time can depend on no calculable causes: nor, again, can
we give any reason more than what we call accident, if there were to be
amongst us at any one time a number of persons whose whole tendency was
decidedly to evil. But if, in these respects, the usual average has
continued, if there is no lack of ability, and nothing like a prevalence
of vice, then we begin anxiously to inquire into the causes, which,
while other things remain the same, have led to a different result. And
one cause I do find, which, is certainly capable of producing such a
result: a cause undoubtedly in existence now, and as certainly not in
existence a few years back; nor can I trace any other besides this which
appears likely to have produced the same effect. This cause consists in
the number and character and cheapness, and peculiar mode of
publication, of the works of amusement of the present day. In all these
respects the change is great, and extremely recent. The works of
amusement published only a very few years since were comparatively few
in number; they were less exciting, and therefore less attractive; they
were dearer, and therefore less accessible; and, not being published
periodically, they did not occupy the mind for so long a time, nor keep
alive so constant an expectation; nor, by thus dwelling upon the mind,
and distilling themselves into it as it were drop by drop, did they
possess it so largely, colouring even, in many instances, its very
language, and affording frequent matter for conversation.
The evil of all these circumstances is actually enormous. The mass of
human minds, and much more of the minds of young persons, have no great
appetite for intellectual exercise; but they have some, which by careful
treatment may be strengthened and increased. But here to this weak and
delicate appetite is presented an abundance of the most stimulating and
least nourishing food possible. It snatches it greedily, and is not only
satisfied, but actually conceives a distaste for anything simpler and
more wholesome. That curiosity which is wisely given us to lead us on to
knowledge, finds its full gratification in the details of an exciting
and protracted story, and then lies down as it were gorged, and goes to
sleep. Other faculties claim their turn, and have it. We know that in
youth the healthy body and lively spirits require exercise, and in this
they may and ought to be indulged: but the time and interest which
remain over when the body has had its enjoyment, and the mind desires
its share, this has been already wasted and exhausted upon things
utterly unprofitable: so that the mind goes to its work hurriedly and
languidly, and feels it to be no more than a burden. The mere lessons
may be learnt from a sense of duty; but that freshness of power which,
in young persons of ability would fasten eagerly upon some one portion
or other, of the wide field of knowledge, and there expatiate, drinking
in health and strength to the mind, as surely as the natural exercise of
the body gives to it bodily vigour,--that is tired prematurely,
perverted, and corrupted; and all the knowledge which else it might so
covet, it now seems a wearying effort to attain.
Great and grievous as is the evil, it is peculiarly hard to find the
remedy for it. If the books to which I have been alluding were books of
downright wickedness, we might destroy them wherever we found them; we
might forbid their open circulation; we might conjure you to shun them
as you would any other clear sin, whether of word or deed. But they are
not wicked books for the most part; they are of that class which cannot
be actually prohibited; nor can it be pretended that there is a sin in
reading them. They are not the more wicked for being published so cheap,
and at regular intervals; but yet these two circumstances make them so
peculiarly injurious. All that can be done is to point out the evil;
that it is real and serious I am very sure, and its effects are most
deplorable on the minds of the fairest promise; but the remedy for it
rests with yourselves, or rather with each of you individually, so far
as he is himself concerned. That an unnatural and constant excitement of
the mind is most injurious, there is no doubt; that excitement involves
a consequent weakness, is a law of our nature than which none is surer;
that the weakness of mind thus produced is and must be adverse to quiet
study and thought, to that reflection which alone is wisdom, is also
clear in itself, and proved too largely by experience. And that without
reflection there can be no spiritual understanding, is at once evident;
while without spiritual understanding, that is, without a knowledge and
a study of God's will, there can be no spiritual life. And therefore
childishness and unthoughtfulness cannot be light evils; and if I have
rightly traced the prevalence of these defects to its cause, although
that cause may seem to some to be trifling, yet surely it is well to
call your attention to it, and to remind you that in reading works of
amusement, as in every other lawful pleasure, there is and must be an
abiding responsibility in the sight of God; that, like other lawful
pleasures, we must beware of excess in it; and not only so, but that if
we find it hurtful to us, either because we have used it too freely in
times past, or because our nature is too weak to bear it, that then we
are bound most solemnly to abstain from it; because, however lawful in
itself, or to others who can practise it without injury, whatever is to
us an hindrance in the way of our intellectual and moral and spiritual
improvement, that is in our case a positive sin.
LECTURE V.
* * * * *
COLOSSIANS i. 9.
_We do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled
with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual
understanding_.