PIETY.
In the last chapter I have endeavored to show you in what your sin
principally consists; and also the interest which God feels in your
happiness, and the sacrifice he has made to lead you to penitence and
to heaven. But you desire more particular information respecting the
duties which God requires of you. I shall in this chapter explain the
requirements of God; and show you why you should immediately
commence a life of piety.
Probably no child reads this book who is not conscious of sin. You
feel not only that you do not love God as you ought, but that
sometimes you are ungrateful or disobedient to your parents; you are
irritated with your brother or your sister, or you indulge in other
feelings, which you know to be wrong. New, the first thing which God
requires of you is, that you should be penitent for all your sins. At
the close of the day, you go to your chamber for sleep. Perhaps your
mother goes with you, and hears you repeat a prayer of gratitude to
God for his kindness. But after she has left the chamber, and you are
alone in the darkness, you recall to mind the events of the day,
asking yourself what you have done that is wrong. Perhaps you were
idle at school, or unkind to a playmate, or disobedient to your
parents. Now, if you go to sleep without sincere repentance, and a
firm resolution to try for the future to avoid such sin, the frown of
your Maker will be upon you during all the hours of the night. You
ought, every evening, before you go to sleep, to think of your
conduct during the day, and to express to God your sincere sorrow for
every thing you have done which is displeasing to him, and humbly
implore the pardon of your sins through Jesus Christ. Such a child
God loves. Such a one he will readily forgive. And if it is his will
that you should die before the morning, he will take you to heaven,
to be happy there. But remember that it is not enough simply to say
that you are penitent. You must really feel penitent. And you must
resolve to be more watchful in future, and to guard against the sin
over which you mourn. You have, for instance, spoken unkindly, during
the day, to your brother. At night, you feel that you have done
wrong, and that God is displeased. Now, if you are sincerely
penitent, and ask God's forgiveness, you will pray that you may not
again be guilty of the same fault. And when you awake in the morning,
you will be watchful over yourself, that you may be pleasant and
obliging. You will perhaps go to your brother, and say, "I did wrong
in speaking unkindly to you yesterday, and I am sorry for it. I will
endeavor never again to do so." At any rate, if you are really
penitent, you will pray to God for forgiveness, and most sincerely
resolve never willingly to be guilty of the same sin again.
But you must also remember that, by the law of God, sin can never pass
unpunished. God has said, "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." And
when you do any thing that is wrong, and afterwards repent of it, God
forgives you, because the Savior has borne the punishment which you
deserve. This is what is meant by that passage of Scripture, "he was
wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities." Our
Father in heaven loved us so much that he gave his own Son to die in
our stead. And now he says that he is ready to forgive, if we will
repent, and believe in his Son who has suffered and died to save us.
And ought we not to love so kind a Savior?
You cannot expect at present precisely and fully to understand every
thing connected with the sufferings and death of Christ, and the moral
effect they produce. In fact, it is intimated in the Bible, that even
the angels in heaven find this subject one capable of tasking all
their powers. You can understand, however, that he suffered and
died, that you might be forgiven. It would not be safe in any
government to forgive sin merely on the penitence of the sinner.
Civil government cannot do this safely; a family government cannot do
it safely. It is often the case, when a man is condemned to death for
a crime he has committed, that his dearest friends, sometimes his
wife and children, make the most affecting appeals to the chief
magistrate of the state, to grant him pardon. But it will not do. The
governor, if he knows his duty, will be firm, however painful it may
be, in allowing the law to take its course; for he has to consider
not merely the wishes of the unhappy criminal and his friends, but
the safety and happiness of the whole community.
And so the governor of the universe must consider, not merely his own
benevolent feelings towards the sinner, but the safety and the
holiness of all his creatures; and he could not have forgiven our
sins, unless he had planned a way by which we might safely be
forgiven. This way he did devise, to sustain law and protect
holiness, and yet to let us go free from the punishment due to our
sins. Jesus died for us. He bore our sins. By his stripes we are
healed. And shall we not be grateful?
It is thus that God has provided a way for our escape from the penalty
of his law. You have read, "God so loved the world, that he gave his
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life." Was it not kind in God to give his Son to
suffer, that we might be saved from punishment? God has plainly given
his law. And he has said, the soul that sinneth, it shall die. And he
has said, that his word is so sacred, that, though heaven and earth
should pass away, his word shall not pass away. We have all broken
God's law, and deserve the punishment it threatens. But our indulgent
Father in heaven is looking upon us in loving kindness and in tender
mercy. He pities us, and he has given his own Son to bear the
punishment which we deserve. Oh, was there ever proof of greater love?
And how ardently should we love that Savior, who is nearer and dearer
than a brother, who has left heaven and all its joys, and come to the
world, and suffered and died, that we might be happy! God expects that
we shall love him; that we shall receive him as our Savior, and
whenever we do wrong, that we shall ask forgiveness for his sake. And
when a child thinks of the sorrows which his sins have caused the
Savior, it does appear to me that he must love that Savior with the
most ardent affection.
It was the law of a certain town that the boys should not slide down
hill in the streets. [FOOTNOTE: To those children who live where it
seldom or never snows, I ought to say in this note, that, in New
England, it is a very common amusement to slide down the hills on
sleds or boards, in the winter evenings, when the roads are icy and
smooth. In some places this is dangerous to passengers, and then it
is forbidden by law.] If any were found doing so, they were to be
fined, and it the money was not paid, they were to be sent to jail.
Now, a certain boy, the son of a poor man, broke the law, and was
taken up by an officer. They carried him into court, the fact was
fully proved against him, and he was sentenced to pay the fine. He
had no money, and his father, who stood by, was poor, and found it
hard work to supply the wants of the family. The money must be paid,
however, or the poor boy must go to jail. The father thought that he
could earn it in the evenings, and he promised, accordingly, to pay
the money if they would let his son go.
Evening after evening, then, he went out to his work, while the boy
was allowed to remain by the comfortable fire, at home. After a while
the money was earned and paid, and then the boy felt relieved and
free.
Now, suppose this boy, instead of being grateful to the father, who
had suffered for him, should treat him with coldness and unkindness.
Suppose he should continually do things to give him pain, and always
be reluctant to do the slightest thing to oblige him. Who would not
despise so ungrateful a boy?
And do you think that that child who will grieve the Savior with
continued sin, who will not love him, who will not try to obey him,
can have one spark of noble, of generous feeling in his bosom? Would
any person, of real magnanimity, disregard a friend who had done so
much as the Savior has done for us? God requires of us, that while we
feel penitent for our sins, we should feel grateful to that Savior
who has redeemed us by his blood. And when Jesus Christ says, "Come
unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you
rest," this is what he means. We must love Christ, We must regard him
as the friend who has, by his own sufferings, saved us from the
penalty of God's law. And it is dishonorable and base to refuse to
love him, and to do every thing in your power to please him.
This kind Savior is now looking upon you with affection. He has gone
to heaven to prepare a place for you, and there he wishes to receive
you, and to make you happy for ever. His eye is upon your heart every
day, and every hour. He never forgets you. Wherever you go, he follows
you. He shields you from harm. He supplies all your wants. He
surrounds you with blessings. And now, all that he asks for all these
favors is your love; not that you may do good to him, but that he may
do still more good to you. He wishes to take you, holy and happy, to
the green pastures and the still waters of heaven. Can any child
refuse to love this Savior? Oh, go to him at once, and pray that he
will receive you, and write your name among the number of his
friends. Then will he soon receive you to his own blissful abode.
"Fair distant land; could mortal eyes
But half its charms explore,
How would our spirits long to rise,
And dwell on earth no more!
No cloud those distant regions know,
Realms ever bright and fair!
For sin, the source of mortal wo,
Can never enter there."
Every child who reads this book probably knows, that, unless he is
penitent for sin, and trusts in the Savior, he must for ever be
banished from the presence of God. But a person cannot be penitent and
grateful who does not endeavor in all things to be obedient. You must
try at all times of the day, and in all the duties of the day, to be
faithful, that you may please God. It is not a little thing to be a
Christian. It is not enough that you at times pray earnestly and feel
deeply. You must be mild, and forbearing, and affectionate, and
obedient. Do you think that child can be a Christian, who will, by
ingratitude, make his parents unhappy? There is, perhaps, nothing
which is more pleasing to God than to see a child who is affectionate
and obedient to his parents. This is one of the most important
Christian duties. And if ever you see a child who professes to be a
Christian child, and who yet is guilty of ingratitude and of
disobedience, you may be assured that those professions are insincere.
If you would have a home in heaven, you must be obedient while in your
home on earth. If you would have the favor and the affection of your
heavenly Father, you must merit the affection and the gratitude of
your earthly parents. God has most explicitly commanded that you
should honor your father and your mother. If you sin in this respect,
it is positive proof that the displeasure of God rests upon you.
Sincere love to God will make a child not only more amiable in general
character, but also more industrious. You are, perhaps, at school,
and, not feeling very much like study, idle away the afternoon. Now,
God's eye is upon you all the time. He sees every moment which is
wasted. And the sin of that idle afternoon you must render an account
for, at his bar. Do you suppose that a person can be a Christian, and
yet be neglecting time, and living in idleness? Even for every idle
word that men shall speak they must give an account in the day of
judgment. If you do not improve your time when young, you can neither
be useful, nor respected, nor happy. The consequences of this
idleness will follow you through life. With all sin God has connected
sorrow. The following account of George Jones will show how
intimately God has connected with indolence sorrow and disgrace.
THE CONSEQUENCES OF IDLENESS.
Many young persons seem to think it is not of much consequence if they
do not improve their time well when in youth, for they can make it up
by diligence when they are older. They think it is disgraceful for men
and women to be idle, but that there can be no harm for persons who
are young to spend their time in any manner they please.
George Jones thought so. He was twelve years old. He went to an
academy to prepare to enter college. His father was at great expense
in obtaining books for him, clothing him, and paying his tuition.
But George was idle. The preceptor of the academy would often tell
him that if he did not study diligently when young, he would never
succeed well. But George thought of nothing but present pleasure.
Often would he go to school without having made any preparation for
his morning lesson; and, when called to recite with his class, he
would stammer and make such blunders, that the rest of his class
could not help laughing at him. He was one of the poorest scholars in
school, because he was one of the most idle.
When recess came, and all the boys ran out of the academy, upon the
play-ground, idle George would come moping along. Instead of studying
diligently while in school, he was indolent and half asleep. When the
proper time for play came, he had no relish for it. I recollect very
well that, when tossing up for a game of ball, we used to choose every
body on the play-ground before we chose George. And if there were
enough to play without him, we used to leave him out. Thus was he
unhappy in school and out of school. There is nothing which makes a
person enjoy play so well as to study hard. When recess was over, and
the rest of the boys returned fresh and vigorous to their studies,
George might be seen lagging and moping along to his seat. Sometimes
he would be asleep in school, sometimes he would pass his time in
catching flies and penning them up in little holes, which he cut in
his seat. And sometimes, when the preceptor's back was turned, he
would throw a paper ball across the room. When the class was called
up to recite, George would come drowsily along, looking as mean and
ashamed as though he were going to be whipped. The rest of the class
stepped up to the recitation with alacrity, and appeared happy and
contented. When it came George's turn to recite, he would be so long,
and make such blunders, that all most heartily wished him out of the
class.
At last George went with his class to enter college. Though he passed
a very poor examination, he was admitted with the rest, for those who
examined him thought it was possible, that the reason why he did not
answer the questions better was that he was frightened. Now came hard
times for poor George. In college there is not much mercy shown to bad
scholars; and George had neglected his studies so long that he could
not now keep up with his class, let him try ever so hard.
He could without much difficulty get along in the academy, where there
were only two or three boys of his own class to laugh at him. But now
he had to go into a large recitation room, filled with students from
all parts of the country. In the presence of all these he must rise
and recite to the professor. Poor fellow! He paid dear for his
idleness. You would have pitied him, if you could have seen him
trembling in his seat, every moment expecting to be called upon to
recite. And when he was called upon, he would stand up and take what
the class called a dead set; that is, he could not recite at all.
Sometimes he would make such ludicrous blunders that the whole class
would burst into a laugh. Such are the applauses idleness gets. He
was wretched, of course. He had been idle so long, that he hardly
knew how to apply his mind to study. All the good scholars avoided
him; they were ashamed to be seen in his company. He became
discouraged, and gradually grew dissipated.
The government of the college soon were compelled to suspend him. He
returned in a few months, but did no better; and his father was then
advised to take him from college. He left college, despised by every
one. A few months ago I met him in New-York, a poor wanderer, without
money or friends. Such are the wages of idleness. I hope every reader
will from this history take warning, and "stamp improvement on the
wings of time."
This story of George Jones, which is a true one, shows how sinful and
ruinous it is to be idle. Every child who would be a Christian, and
have a home in heaven, must guard against this sin. But as I have
given you one story, which shows the sad effects of indolence, I will
now present you with another, more pleasing, which shows the rewards
of industry.
THE ADVANTAGES OF INDUSTRY.
I gave you the history of George Jones, an idle boy, and showed you
the consequences of his idleness. I shall now give you the history of
Charles Bullard, a class-mate of George. Charles was about of the same
age with George, and did not possess naturally superior talents.
Indeed, I doubt whether he was equal to him, in natural powers of
mind. But Charles was a hard student. When quite young, he was
always careful to be diligent in school. Sometimes, when there was a
very hard lesson, instead of going out in the recess to play, he
would stay in to study. He had resolved that his first object should
be to get his lesson well, and then he could play with a good
conscience. He loved play as well as any body, and was one of the
best players on the ground; I hardly ever saw any body catch a ball
better than he could. When playing any game every one was glad to get
Charles on his side. I have said that Charles would sometimes stay in
at recess. This, however, was very seldom; it was only when the
lesson was very hard indeed. Generally he was among the first upon
the play-ground, and he was also among the first to go into school,
when called in. Hard study gave him a relish for play, and play
again gave him a relish for hard study; so he was happy both in
school and out. The preceptor could not help liking him, for he
always had his lessons well committed, and never gave him any trouble.
When he went to enter college, the preceptor gave him a good
recommendation. He was able to answer all the questions which were put
to him when he was examined. He had studied so well when he was in the
academy, and was so thoroughly prepared for college, that he found it
very easy to keep up with his class, and had much time for reading
interesting books. But he would always first get his lesson well,
before he did any thing else, and would review it just before
recitation. When called upon to recite, he rose tranquil and happy,
and very seldom made any mistake. The government of the college had
a high opinion of him, and he was respected by all the students.
There was in the college a society made up of all of the best
scholars. Charles was chosen a member of that society. It was the
custom to choose some one of the society to deliver a public address
every year. This honor was conferred on Charles; and he had studied so
diligently, and read so much, that he delivered an address, which was
very interesting to all who heard it. At last he graduated, as it is
called; that is, he finished his collegiate course, and received his
degree. It was known by all that he was a good scholar, and by all he
was respected. His father and mother, brothers and sisters, came,
commencement day, to hear him speak. They all felt gratified, and
loved Charles more than ever. Many situations of usefulness and
profit were opened to him, for Charles was now a man, intelligent,
and universally respected. He is now a useful and a happy man. He has
a cheerful home, and is esteemed by all who know him.
Such are the rewards of industry. How strange is it, that any persons
should be willing to live in idleness, when it will certainly make
them, unhappy! The idle boy is almost invariably poor and miserable;
the industrious boy is happy and prospered.
But perhaps some child who reads this, asks, "Does God notice little
children in school?" He certainly does. And if you are not diligent
in the improvement of your time, it is one of the surest of evidences
that your heart is not right with God. You are placed in this world
to improve your time. In youth you must be preparing for future
usefulness. And if you do not improve the advantages you enjoy, you
sin against your Maker.
"With books, or work, or healthful play,
Let your first years be past,
That you may give, for every day,
Some good account at last."
One of the petitions in the Lord's prayer is, "forgive us our debts as
we forgive our debtors." We do thus pray that God will exercise the
same kind of forgiveness towards us, which we exercise towards
others. Consequently, if we are unforgiving or revengeful, we pray
that God will treat us in the same way when we appear before him in
judgment. Thus God teaches the necessity of cultivating a forbearing
and a forgiving spirit. We must do this or we cannot be Christians.
When I was a boy, there was another little boy who went to the same
school with me, who was a professed Christian. He seemed to love the
Savior, and to try in all things to abstain from sin. Some of the bad
boys were in the habit of ridiculing him, and of doing every thing
they could to tease him, because he would not join with them in
mischief. Near the school-house there was a small orchard; and the
scholars would, without the leave of the owner, take the apples. One
day a party of boys were going into the orchard for fruit, and called
upon this pious boy to accompany them.
"Come, Henry," said one of them to him, "let us go and get some
apples."
"The apples are not ours," he fearlessly replied, "and I do not think
it right to steal."
"You are a coward, and afraid to go," the other replied.
"I am afraid," said Henry, "to do wrong, and you ought to be; but I
am not afraid to do right."
This wicked boy was exceedingly irritated at this rebuke, and called
Henry all manner of names, and endeavored to hold him up to the
ridicule of the whole school.
Henry bore it very patiently, though it was hard to be endured, for
the boy who ridiculed him had a great deal of influence and talent.
Some days after this the boys were going a fishing. Henry had a
beautiful fishing-rod, which his father had bought for him.
George--for by that name I shall call the boy who abused Henry--was
very desirous of borrowing this fishing-rod, and yet was ashamed to
ask for it. At last, however, he summoned courage, and called out to
Henry upon the play-ground--
"Henry, will you lend me your rod to go a fishing?"
"O yes," said Henry; "if you will go home with me, I will get it for
you now."
Poor George felt ashamed enough for what he had done. But he went home
with Henry to get the rod.
They went up into the barn together, and when Henry had taken his
fishing-tackle from the place in which he kept it, he said to
George, "I have a new line in the house, which father bought me the
other day; you may have that too, if you want it." George could
hardly hold up his head, he felt so ashamed. However, Henry went and
got the new line, and placed it upon the rod, and gave them into
George's hand.
A few days after this, George told me about it. "Why," said he, "I
never felt so ashamed in my life. And one thing is certain, I will
never call Henry names again."
Now, who does not admire the conduct of Henry in this affair? This
forgiving spirit is what God requires. The child who would be the
friend of God, must possess this spirit. You must always be ready to
forgive. You must never indulge in the feelings of revenge. You must
never desire to injure another, how much soever you may feel that
others have injured you. The spirit of the Christian is a forgiving
spirit.
God also requires of his friends, that they shall ever be doing good,
as they have opportunity. The Christian child will do all in his power
to make those happy who are about him. He will disregard himself that
he may promote the happiness of others. He will be obliging to all.
This world is not your home. You are to remain here but a few years,
and then go to that home of joy or wo, which you never, never will
leave. God expects you to be useful here. "How can I do any good?"
do you say? Why, in many ways. You can make your parents happy; that
is doing good. You can make your brothers and sisters happy; that is
doing good. You can try to make your brothers and sisters more
obedient to their parents; that is doing good. You can set a good
example at school; that is doing good. If you see your companions
doing any thing that is wrong, you can try to dissuade them. You can
speak to your bosom friend, upon the Savior's goodness, and endeavor
to excite in his heart the feelings which are in yours. Thus you may
be exerting a good influence upon all around you. Your life will not
be spent in vain. God will smile upon you, and give joy in a dying
hour.
Some children appear to think that if they are Christians, they cannot
be so happy as they may be if they are not Christians. They think that
to love God, and to pray, and to do their duty, is gloomy work. But
God tells us that none can be happy but those who love him. And
every one who has repented of sin, and loves the Savior, says that
there is more happiness in this mode of life than in any other. We
may indeed be happy a little while without piety. But misfortunes and
sorrows will come. Your hopes of pleasure will be disappointed. You
will be called to weep; to suffer pain; to die. And there is nothing
but religion which can give you a happy life and a peaceful death. It
is that you may be happy, not unhappy, that God wishes you to be a
Christian.
It is true that at times it requires a very great struggle to take a
decided stand as a Christian. The proud heart is reluctant to yield.
The worldly spirit clings to worldly pleasure. It requires bravery
and resolution to meet the obstacles which will be thrown in your
way. You may be opposed. You may be ridiculed. But, notwithstanding
all this, the only way to ensure happiness is to love and serve your
Maker. Many children know that they ought to love God, and wish that
they had resolution to do their duty. But they are afraid of the
ridicule of their companions. Henry, who would not rob the orchard,
was a brave boy. He knew that they would laugh at him. But what did
he care? He meant to do his duty without being frightened if others
did laugh. And the consciousness of doing his duty afforded him much
greater enjoyment than he could possibly have received from eating
the stolen fruit. Others of the boys went and robbed the orchard,
because they had not courage to refuse to do as their companions did.
They knew it was wrong, but they were afraid of being laughed at. But
which is the most easy to be borne, the ridicule of the wicked, or a
condemning conscience, and the displeasure of God? It is so with all
the duties of the Christian. If you will conscientiously do that
which God approves, he will give you peace of mind, and prepare you
for eternal joy.
One of the most eminent and useful of the English clergymen was led,
when a child, by the following interesting circumstance, to surrender
himself to the Savior. When a little boy, he was, like other
children, playful and thoughtless. He thought, perhaps, that he would
wait until he was old, before he became a Christian. His father was a
pious man, and frequently conversed with him about heaven, and urged
him to prepare to die.
On the evening of his birth-day, when he was ten years of age, his
father took him affectionately by the hand, and reminding him of the
scenes through which he had already passed, urged him to commence that
evening a life of piety. He told him of the love of Jesus. He told him
of the danger of delay. And he showed him that he must perish for ever
unless he speedily trusted in the Savior, and gave his life to his
service. As this child thought of a dying hour, and of a Savior's
love, his heart was full of feeling, and the tears gushed into his
eyes. He felt that it was time for him to choose whether he would
live for God or for the world. He resolved that he would no longer
delay.
His father and mother then retired to their chamber to pray for
their child, and this child also went to his chamber to pray for
himself. Sincerely he gave himself to the Savior. Earnestly he
implored forgiveness, and most fervently entreated God to aid him to
keep his resolutions and to refrain from sin. And do you think that
child was not happy, as, in the silence of his chamber, he
surrendered himself to God? It was undoubtedly the hour of the purest
enjoyment he ever had experienced, Angels looked with joy upon that
evening scene, and hovered with delight and love around that penitent
child. The prayers of the parent and the child ascended as grateful
incense to the throne, and were accepted. And from that affecting
hour, this little boy went on in the path which leads to usefulness,
and peace, and heaven. He spent his life in doing good. A short time
since, he died a veteran soldier of the cross, and is now undoubtedly
amid the glories of heaven, surrounded by hundreds, who have been, by
his instrumentality, led to those green fields and loved mansions.
Oh, what a rapturous meeting must that have been, when the parents of
this child pressed forward from the angel throng, to welcome him, as,
with triumphant wing, he entered heaven! And, oh, how happy must they
now be, in that home of songs and everlasting joy!
It is thus that piety promotes our enjoyment. It promotes our
happiness at all times. It takes away the fear of death, and deprives
every sorrow of half its bitterness. Death is the most gloomy thought
that can enter the minds of those who are not Christians. But the
pious child can be happy even when dying. I was once called to see a
boy who was very dangerously sick, and expected soon to die. I
expected to have found him sorrowful. But, instead of that, a happy
smile was on his countenance, which showed that joy was in his heart.
He sat in bed, leaning upon his pillow, with a hymn book in his hand,
which he was reading. His cheeks were thin and pale, from his long
sickness, while, at the same time, he appeared contented and happy.
After conversing with him a little while, I said,
"Do you think you shall ever get well again?"
"No, sir," he cheerfully replied, "the doctor says I may perhaps
live a few weeks, but that he should not be surprised if I should die
at any time."
"Are you willing to die?" I said.
"O yes, sir," he answered; "sometimes I feel sad about leaving
father and mother. But then I think I shall be free from sin in
heaven, and shall be with the Savior. And I hope that father and
mother will soon come to heaven, and I shall be with them then. I am
sometimes afraid that I am too impatient to go."
"What makes you think," I asked, "that you are prepared to die?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Because Jesus Christ has
said, Whosoever cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. I do think
that I love the Savior, and I wish to go to him, and to be made holy."
While talking with him, I heard some boys laughing and playing under
the window. But this sick boy looked up to me, and said, "Oh, how much
more happy am I now, than I used to be when well and out at play, not
thinking of God or heaven! There is not a boy in the street so happy
as I."
This little boy had for some time been endeavoring to do his duty as a
Christian. His conduct showed that he loved the Savior. And when
sickness came, and death was near, he was happy. But, oh, how sad
must that child feel, who is dying in unrepented sin! We all must
certainly soon die, and there is nothing to make us happy in death
but piety.
But when the Christian child goes to heaven, how happy must he be! He
rises above the clouds, and the blue sky, and the twinkling stars,
till he enters the home of God and the angels. There he becomes an
angel himself. God gives him a body of perfect beauty, and furnishes
him with wings, with which he can fly from world to world. God is his
approving Father. Angels are his beloved friends. You often, in a
clear evening, look up upon the distant stars, and wonder who
inhabits them. You think, if you had the wings of an eagle, you would
love to fly up there, and make a visit. Now, it is not improbable
that the Christian, in heaven, can pass from star to star, as you can
go from house to house in your own neighborhood. The very thought is
enrapturing. If every hour of our lives were spent in sorrow, it
would be nothing, compared with the joys which God has promised his
friends at his right hand. When we think of the green pastures of
heaven; of the still waters of that happy world; when we think of
mingling with the angels in their flight; of uniting our voices with
theirs in songs of praise; of gazing upon all the glories and sharing
all the rapture of the heavenly world--O, how tame do the joys of
earth appear!
Some children, however, think that they can put off becoming
Christians till a dying hour, and then repent and be saved. Even if
you could do this, it would be at the loss of much usefulness and much
happiness. But the fact is, you are never curtain of a moment of life.
You are little aware of the dangers to which you are continually
exposed.
"The rising morning can't assure,
That we shall spend the day;
For death stands ready at the door,
To snatch our lives away."
We are reminded of the uncertainty of life, by the accidents which are
every day occurring. Often, when we least suspect it, we are in the
most imminent hazard of our lives. When I was a boy, I one day went a
gunning. I was to call for another boy, who lived at a little distance
from my father's. Having loaded my gun with a heavy charge of pigeon-
shot, and put in a new flint, which would strike out a brilliant
shower of sparks, I carefully primed the gun, and set out upon my
expedition. When arrived at the house of the boy who was to go with
me, I leaned the gun against the side of the house, and waited a few
moments for him to get ready. About a rod from the door, where I was
waiting, there was another house. A little girl stood upon the window-
seat, looking out of the window. Another boy came along, and, taking
up the gun, not knowing that it was loaded and primed, took
deliberate aim at the face of the girl, and pulled the trigger. But
God, in mercy, caused the gun to miss fire. Had it gone off, the
girl's face would have been blown all to pieces, I never can think of
the danger she was in, even now, without trembling. The girl did not
see the boy take aim at her, and does not now know how narrow was her
escape from death. She little supposed that, when standing in perfect
health by the window in her own father's house, she was in danger of
dropping down dead upon the floor. We are all continually exposed to
such dangers, and when we least suspect it, may be in the greatest
peril. Is it not, then, folly to delay preparation for death? You may
die within one hour. You may not have one moment of warning allowed
you.
A few years ago, a little boy was riding in the stage. It was a
pleasant summer's day. The horses were trotting rapidly along by
fields, and bridges, and orchards, and houses. The little boy stood at
the coach window with a happy heart, and looked upon the green fields
and pleasant dwellings; upon the poultry in the farm-yards, and the
cattle upon the hills. He had not the least idea that he should die
that day. But while he was looking out of the window, the iron rim
of the wheel broke, and struck him upon the forehead. The poor boy
lay senseless for a few days, and then died. There are a thousand
ways by which life may be suddenly extinguished, and yet how seldom
are they thought of by children! They almost always entirely forget
the danger of early death, and postpone to a future day making their
peace with God. And how little do those who read this book think that
they may die suddenly! Many children, when they go to bed at night,
say the prayer,
"Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take."
I used to say this prayer, when a child, every night before I went to
sleep. But I did not know then, as well as I do now, that I might die
before the morning. Almost every night some children go to bed well,
and before morning are dead. It is, therefore, very dangerous to delay
repentance. Love the Savior immediately, and prepare to die, and it
will be of but little consequence when you die, for you will go to
heaven and be happy for ever.
But we must not forget that a most terrible doom awaits those who will
not serve their Maker. It matters not how much we may be beloved by
our friends; how amiable may be our feelings. This alone will not
save us. We must repent of sin, and love the Savior, who has suffered
for us. We must pass our lives in usefulness and prayer, or, when the
day of judgment comes, we shall hear the sentence, "Depart from me,
for I know you not." It is indeed a fearful thing to refuse affection
and obedience to our Father in heaven. He will receive none into his
happy family above, but those who love him. He will have no angry,
disagreeable spirits there. He will receive none but the penitent,
and the humble, and the grateful, to that pure and peaceful home. Who
does not wish to go to heaven? O, then, now begin to do your duty,
and earnestly pray that God will forgive your sins, and give you a
heart to love and obey him.