is soon sown by the winds with every vagrant seed of evil. One sin
leads to another, the less generally to the greater; and by the
inception of a single wrong principle in childhood, the young man who
might have been a model of virtue becomes a curse to society, and the
young woman who ought to have proved a priceless jewel turns out a mere
package of dry goods if not something worse. True, these moral wrecks
may possibly be recovered by converting grace; but such cases are
extremely uncommon, and when they do occur they are regarded as
miracles of mercy; and often, alas! the effect is as evanescent as the
morning cloud and early dew. Generally, those who have grown up without
religious restraint go on still in their trespasses, living without God
and dying without hope.
"As in individuals, so in nations," writes the Rev. Charles Kingsley,
"unbridled indulgence of the passions must produce, and does produce,
frivolity, effeminacy, slavery to the appetite of the moment, a
brutalized and reckless temper, before which prudence, energy, national
feeling, any and every feeling which is not centred in self, perishes
utterly. The old French _noblesse_ gave a proof of this law which
will last as a warning beacon to the end of time.... It must be so. The
national life is grounded on the life of the family, is the development
of it; and where the root is corrupt, the tree must be corrupt also." A
fearful truth for the contemplation of Christian patriotism! Imagine an
utter indifference to the morals of the rising generation all at once
to prevail throughout the country, and all efforts for the spiritual
culture of the young suddenly to cease; would not the frightful ruin
rush over the land with the rapidity of an avalanche and the ubiquity
of a deluge, instant and everywhere, in your highways and your byways,
at your altars and your hearths, sweeping before it every thing pure
and lovely--every thing valuable to existence, precious to
recollection, or cheering in the visions of hope?
This side of the subject is not pleasing; let us look at the obverse.
No moral maxim is sounder than that of the royal sage: "Train up a
child in the way that he should go, and when he is old he will not
depart from it." The principles of virtue early implanted insure the
future saint and hero. A thoroughly good character impressed upon youth
cleaves to the man forever.
Exceptions, indeed, there may be--very saddening and disheartening
exceptions. It does sometimes happen that those who seem at least to
have been brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord
subsequently decline from the way of wisdom and become vicious in their
lives. But such cases are too rare to affect the rule. And in these
instances, is it not likely that we are deceived often by appearances?
May not the religious culture have been radically defective in its
principle or culpably incomplete in its process? Was not the child
committed to incompetent hands, that marred the character they should
have made; or abandoned to the influence of an evil world, and exposed
to the contagion of bad example, before his virtuous principles were
sufficiently confirmed and fortified? An accurate knowledge of all the
facts would no doubt develop some capital defect in the education;
would show something essential omitted, or something of evil mingled
with the good, some base alloy blended with the pure metal, some infant
viper coiled unseen among the buddings and bloomings of spring.
But I have the confidence to affirm that apostasy from the principles
of a good Christian education very seldom occurs--so seldom, indeed,
that the instances might almost be pronounced anomalous. It is a maxim
attested by general if not universal experience, that upon the
qualities acquired in childhood depends the character of manhood and
old age. Childhood is the period of docility and impressibility, when
habits of thought and feeling are formed with the greatest facility;
and such habits, once formed, are extremely difficult to destroy; and
the good wrought in the soul at that tender age, growing with its
growth and strengthening with its strength, is almost invariably
retained to the latest hour of life.
Ordinarily, no doubt, we are guided more by habit than by reason. To
walk in the old way is much easier than to strike out a new. In this
respect, taste follows the same law as thought and action. If the child
has formed a taste for virtue, the potent law of habit insures its
perpetuity. The virtuous taste prompts to virtuous deeds, and the
virtuous deeds confirm the virtuous taste. Thus, by a reflex action,
virtue proves its own conservator. Daily the habit grows stronger and
the motive more efficacious. Daily the heart is more and more fortified
against the assaults of temptation. Daily the world loses something of
its fascination, its false maxims something of their plausibility, its
apologies and solicitations something of their persuasive power.
As with the body, so with the spirit. Habitual inaction enfeebles the
faculties, and renders their occasional operation inefficient and
fruitless. On the contrary, by habitual exercise one becomes capable of
performing with ease what were otherwise laborious and difficult, if
not quite impossible. Thus the young, accustomed to resist their evil
passions, will afterward keep them in due control without any very
strenuous struggle; and the seeds of a pure morality, sown in early
life, will strike their roots deep into the soil, and spring up in
perpetual blossom and fruitage. The person is thenceforth virtuous, not
without effort, but certainly with less effort than if he had never
accustomed himself to virtue. The habit of virtue has made virtue
amiable, and her service becomes a labor of love, her yoke easy and her
burden light.
In speaking thus of the power of habit, which has been called "a second
nature," I would not exclude from the process of education the agency
of divine grace, nor lose sight of it as a necessary factor to the best
results. Divine grace, indeed, has much to do with the formation of the
habit, and must co-operate with every agency employed in the work.
Without divine grace, there is nothing wise, nothing strong, nothing
holy; and after all the efforts of parents, pastors, teachers--however
great or however small the measure of success attained--we lift our
hands to Heaven and sing:--
"Thou all our works in us hast wrought,
Our good is all divine;
The praise of every virtuous thought
And righteous word is thine.
From thee, through Jesus, we receive
The power on thee to call;
In whom we are, and move, and live--
Our God, our all in all."
An infidel objected to sending his little daughter to the Sunday
school, "because," said he, "they learn things there which they never
forget." The infidel was a philosopher. Knowledge is indestructible.
The fact or the principle once acquired is never lost. The soul's past
thoughts, feelings, impressions, and operations, are its inalienable
property. They are engraven upon an imperishable tablet, and no power
can efface the record. Though some parts of our experience may be but
dimly and vaguely remembered, and much that we have learned may seem to
be irrevocably forgotten, yet the mind is in possession of a law which,
when brought into action, will completely restore the entire train of
its former phenomena. They are not dead, but sleeping; and we know not
what event at some future day may be the trump of their resurrection.
The seed that lies buried in the earth through the long and dreary
winter will germinate in spring-time and fructify in summer. Therefore
let us not be weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap if
we faint not.
Christian parents! it is yours to begin at the cradle a work whose
blessed influence shall extend beyond the tomb. By the principles you
impart to your little ones, you insure the virtue and the Christianity
of generations to come; you kindle lights to burn amidst the world's
darkness when the faint glimmering of your own is gone; you adorn the
living temple of the Lord with pillars of strength and beauty which
shall challenge angelic admiration when all the colonnaded glories of
earth's capitals are calcined by the fires of doom. To such an
achievement, what are all the treasures of monarchs, and all the
splendors of empire, and all the applause of heroism, and all the
renown of authorship, and all the fascination of eloquence, and all the
entrancing power of song?
Who has any fear of God, any love of country, any affection for his
children, any regard for the welfare of posterity? By all these I
implore you, and by every other consideration that ought to move the
heart of man, awake to the work which Heaven enjoins and every instinct
of nature urges upon you! Your time, money, knowledge, influence--how
can they be better employed than in the Christian culture of the young
immortals committed to your care? In the beautiful form you cherish,
there is something far more beautiful--a jewel worth immeasurably more
than the casket which contains it--a spirit that must live and think
and feel when this planet shall have become a chaos, when out of that
chaos shall have arisen the new _cosmos_ over which Christ is to
rule in righteousness forever. Shall this precious thing perish through
your faithlessness to so sublime a trust? Shall harps be wanting in
heaven, and white-robed ministrants before the throne, through the
recreancy of any bearing the Christian name and honored with the title
of father or mother? What is reason's estimate of the parental
tenderness which provides so laboriously for the body, but totally
neglects the soul--which regards so sedulously the interests of time,
but utterly overlooks the concerns of eternity? To see your little ones
wandering unrestrained in the broad way to ruin, or trained for this
world only, as if there were not another beyond--oh! is it not enough
to make their guardian angels turn away their faces and weep beneath
their wings?
The Church is here to help you, but she requires your co-operation. The
Sunday school is here to second your endeavors, but little can that do
without your countenance and contribution. Men of Israel, help! Christ
calls upon you from his cross to help. Juvenile vice and blasphemy
through all your streets seem imploring you to help. Will you respond
to the appeal? The result may be a blessing to your own house. The
recollection will warm your heart amidst the chills of death. Sweet
little minstrels with crowns shall rehearse the story to you when the
cemetery and the sea are delivering up their dead. Not less, perhaps,
than the eloquent preacher in the great congregation, the humble
teacher of an infant-class may be shedding light into the dark places
of the earth--may be scattering flower-seeds and raindrops over the
face of the desert. Even more, it may be, than the consecrated minister
at the altar of God, the liberal contributor to this beneficent agency
is kindling a holy fire which shall burn when the stars have gone
out--is touching the strings of a harp that shall send its melodies
through eternity. O merciful God! when the seventh trump is sounding,
and the quickened dead are gathering before thy throne, let it not be
said of any in this assembly--"His sons made themselves vile, and he
restrained them not"!
[1] Preached at a Sunday-school convention, 1840.
VI.
JOY OF THE LAW.[1]
In the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried,
saying--If any man thirst, let him come unto me and
drink.--John vii. 37.
At three great annual festivals all the men of all the tribes of Israel
were required to appear before the Lord in Jerusalem. One of these was
the Feast of Tabernacles, kept in commemoration of the sojourn of their
fathers in the wilderness, and as a special thanksgiving to God after
the ingathering of the autumnal harvest. Its duration was strictly
seven days, from the 15th to the 22d of the month Tisri; but it was
followed by a day of holy convocation, distinguished by sacrifices and
peculiar observances of its own, which was sometimes called the eighth
day. During the seven days the people dwelt in booths formed of the
branches of the palm, the pine, the olive, the myrtle, and other trees
of thick foliage; and these temporary huts lined every street of the
city, and covered all the surrounding hills. The public
burnt-offerings, and the private peace-offerings as well, were more
numerous than those of any other of the great national festivals. The
bullocks sacrificed were seventy; but besides these were offered every
day two rams, fourteen lambs, and a kid for a sin-offering. The long
lines of booths everywhere, and the sacrificial solemnities and
processions, must have furnished a grand spectacle by day; and the
lamps, the torches, the music, the joyful gatherings in the
temple-courts, must have given a still more festive character to the
night. No other feast of the Hebrews was half so joyous as the Feast of
Tabernacles; and therefore it was eminently fitting that it should be
observed, as it was, with much more than its ordinary interest at the
dedication of Solomon's Temple, again by Ezra after the restoration of
the sacred structure, and a third time by Judas Maccabaeus when he had
expelled the Syrians and re-established the true worship of Jehovah.
The seven days accomplished, the eighth was ushered in with the glad
sound of trumpets, summoning the multitudes to the holy convocation.
During the seven days they had offered sacrifices for the seventy
nations of the earth, as well as for themselves; the eighth was
Israel's own day, and the sacrifices offered were exclusively for the
people of the covenant, adding to the daily offerings already mentioned
a bullock, a ram, seven lambs, and a goat for a sin-offering. As soon
as the morning trumpets sounded, the booths were all dismantled, and
the thronging thousands from every quarter hastened to the temple. The
sacrifice was already on the altar, and the high-priest stood by in his
more than regal array, with his numerous white-robed ministers. A
priestly procession entered at the Water-gate, bringing water in a
golden vessel from the neighboring Pool of Siloam. Approaching the
altar, the bearer ascended the sacred slope, and delivered his burden
into the hands of the high-priest; while the trumpets sent forth a
joyous peal, to which the people responded with a shout that shook the
city. Part of the water, mingled with wine, was then poured into the
grooves of the altar around the morning sacrifice, and the rest was
distributed among the attendant priests, who drank it amidst the
grateful acclamations of the multitude; and finally the great choir,
chanting to every instrument of music, poured forth the song of
Isaiah--"With joy shall ye draw water from the wells of salvation!"
This was called "the Joy of the Law;" and there is a rabbinical proverb
to the effect, that he who has never witnessed it has never seen
rejoicing. It was intended as a commemoration of the miracle of the
smitten rock in Horeb, which the apostle tells us prefigured Christ;
and it must have been just after this grand solemnity, or in connection
with its impressive evening compline, that "Jesus stood and cried,
saying--If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink."
Here are four things full of instruction for us--the time, the speaker,
the manner, and the invitation. In these we shall find the very marrow
of the gospel, worth more to our souls than all the revelations of
science and all the speculations of philosophy. Let us give them
earnest and devout attention, and may God grant us the aid of his grace!
First, the time is to be noticed. "In the last day, that great day of
the feast"--when there was present a vast concourse of the people.
Three million have been counted in attendance at the Feast of
Tabernacles. What an audience, what an inspiration, for an orator! How
would Cicero have triumphed before such an assembly! Jesus needed no
such impulse. His mind was ever full of light, his heart overflowing
with love. He wanted but the opportunity to pour forth his divine
speech upon the people, and surely he never had a better than now. How
did his doctrine distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender
herb, and the showers upon the grass! Great lesson for his servants,
who ought to make their Master their model, and let no good occasion
slip for pouring the light of life into benighted souls!
"In the last day, that great day of the feast"--when they were occupied
with the most interesting observances of the national solemnity.
Another might have said: "They will not hear me; they are too much
absorbed to listen." Jesus was a better philosopher. Conscious of his
own power, he knew perfectly the hearts of men. Never could his hearers
recall the Joy of the Law, without recollecting the voice, the figure,
the beaming countenance, of the strange young rabbi from Galilee, who
stood forth in the midst of the great congregation, and dropped such
heavenly words into their hearts. "Who was he? What meant he? Could any
mere mortal have spoken so? Is the Messiah at length come? Let us seek
him again, and hear more from those marvellous lips!" Another grand
lesson for his servants, who ought to study to environ their teachings
with associations which cannot fail, with every happy hour, by every
happy memory, to recall the truths they have uttered and revive the
impressions produced by their preaching.
"In the last day, that great day of the feast"--when the pleasant
season was drawing to its close, and the people were ready to disperse
and return to their respective homes. The last words of a dear
departing friend linger long in the memory. The last utterances of a
dying father or mother cannot soon be effaced from the mind of the
child. The last sermon of a loved and honored pastor, before he leaves
us to feed another flock, may impress us more profoundly than any thing
he ever said to us before. The mere fact that it is the last time, that
we may never see that face again, never again hear that familiar voice,
brings home the truth with a vivid power, which can hardly fail to make
it effective, even with those who have hitherto heard with
indifference. Many who are now listening to our Lord will never listen
to him again. Before another Feast of Tabernacles they may be in their
graves, or he in heaven. To some present he may have preached many
sermons, but will never preach another. It is their last opportunity,
which seals up their account to the judgment. How must the thought have
wrought upon a mind like his! what earnestness given to every word!
what tenderness to every tone! Touching lesson again for us, my
brethren! who ought to preach every Lord's Day as if it were our last!
as if Death stood beside us saying--"Shoot thou God's arrows, and I
will shoot mine!" as if the peal of doom were already ringing in our
ears, and the graves around us delivering up their dead!
Next, the speaker is to be observed. It is Jesus, the Saviour, heralded
by prophets, escorted by angels, proclaimed by the Eternal Father with
an audible voice from heaven. A divine teacher, he comes to preach the
acceptable year of the Lord--an incarnation of the Father's love, to
unfold the secrets of the Father's heart to sinners, and make known the
purpose of his tender mercy in their salvation. Throughout Galilee, and
Judaea, and some of the neighboring provinces, he has already gone,
preaching the kingdom of heaven and calling the people to repentance.
He speaks as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Everywhere
miracles attest his mission, and demonstrate his doctrine. The wisdom
of his words is too much for the cunning sophistry of his enemies, and
an eloquence of sublime simplicity forces conviction upon unwilling
minds and takes the hearts of thousands captive. And now, in the
temple, on one of the most popular occasions of religious worship and
festivity, he is speaking to the people of things pertaining to their
eternal peace. Can any who hear him ever forget those gracious
utterances? "Happy souls!" methinks I hear you say, "happy souls, to
have listened to such a teacher! Could I have been there! Could I have
heard but once for half an hour! How eagerly would I have listened! how
gladly responded to his invitation!"
Alas, my friends! how our own hearts deceive us! Had we been present,
we should probably have done very much as most of the Jews did, and
some of us might have shown still greater blindness of mind or hardness
of heart. Have we not to-day the same gospel preached to us? Are not
those who occupy our pulpits the accredited ambassadors of Christ? Is
it not his word they speak, his claims they urge, his love they
proclaim, and his salvation they offer? And how receive we the message
and respond to the demand? With hearty faith, and grateful tears, and
earnest obedience? Nay, do not many of us despise our own mercy, and
reject the gracious counsel of God, not knowing the day of our
visitation? Even we who profess faith in Christ and call ourselves his
disciples--are we made wiser and better by the weekly recurrence of the
blessed opportunity? "God hath in these last days spoken unto us by his
Son." Every gospel sermon delivered to us is a message from the throne
of heaven. It is as if Christ every Sunday morning descended afresh
from the Father, and stood before us in the pulpit, and stretched forth
to us the hands once nailed to the shameful cross; with many
amplifications and additional arguments repeating what he said in the
temple on "the last day--that great day of the feast." "See, then, that
ye refuse not him that speaketh: for if they escaped not who refused
him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape if we turn away
from him that speaketh from heaven."
Thirdly, the manner is to be considered. "Jesus stood and cried." The
attitude is instructive. Jewish teachers generally sat. So did Jesus on
the Mount. Here he stands--stands ready to bestow--stands ready to
depart. Ready to bestow, he is ever standing--more ready to bestow than
we to receive. Delighting in mercy, he waits to be gracious. All the
day long he stretches out inviting hands to the perishing. All the
night he lingers with dew-sprinkled locks at the door. Now, if ever, is
the accepted time; now, if ever, the day of salvation. While Jesus
waits, there is hope for the worst. But he who stands may soon depart.
Mercy is limited by justice. Probation is bounded by destiny. If we
heed not its compassionate plea, even love must leave us, hopelessly
hardened in our sin. Jerusalem rejected her Messiah, and perished in
spite of his tears. "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great
salvation?"