accomplish this result. And before half the individual members have done
their duty on this subject, they may expect, if the offending brother
has, and manifests the spirit of Christ, that he will cease to be an
offence to his brethren, and a stumbling-block to the world, over which
such multitudes fall to the pit of woe. And till the church, the whole
church, do their duty on this subject, they cannot be freed from the
guilt of conniving at the evil. And no wonder if the Lord leaves them to
be as the mountains of Gilboa, on which there was neither rain or dew.
And should the church receive from the world those who make it a
business to carry on this notoriously immoral traffic, they will greatly
increase their guilt, and ripen for the awful displeasure of God. And
unless members of the church shall cease to teach, by their business,
the fatal error that it is right for men to buy and use ardent spirit as
a drink, the evil will never be eradicated, intemperance will never
cease, and the day of millennial glory never come.
Each individual who names the name of Christ is called upon, by the
providence of God, to act on this subject openly and decidedly for him,
and in such a manner as is adapted to banish intemperance and all its
abominations from the earth, and to cause temperance and all its
attendant benefits universally to prevail. And if ministers of the
Gospel and members of Christian churches do not connive at the sin of
furnishing this poison as a drink for their fellow-men; and men who, in
opposition to truth and duty, continue to be engaged in this destructive
employment, are viewed and treated as wicked men; the work which the
Lord hath commenced and carried forward with a rapidity, and to an
extent hitherto unexampled in the history of the world, will continue to
move onward till not a name, nor a trace, nor a shadow of a drunkard,
or a drunkard-maker, shall be found on the globe.
PROFESSED CHRISTIAN--In the manufacture or sale of ardent spirit as a
drink, you do not, and you cannot honor God; but you do, and, so long as
you continue it, you will greatly dishonor Him. You exert an influence
which tends directly and strongly to ruin, for both worlds, your
fellow-men. Should you take a quantity of that poisonous liquid into
your closet, present it before the Lord, confess to him its nature and
effects, spread out before him what it has done and what it will do, and
attempt to ask him to bless you in extending its influence; it would,
unless your conscience is already seared as with a hot iron, appear to
you like blasphemy. You could no more do it than you could take the
instruments of gambling and attempt to ask God to bless you in extending
them through the community. And why not, if it is a lawful business? Why
not ask God to increase it, and make you an instrument in extending it
over the country, and perpetuating it to all future generations? Even
the worldly and profane man, when he hears about professing Christians
offering prayer to God that he would bless them in the manufacture or
sale of ardent spirit, involuntarily shrinks back and says, "That is too
bad." He can see that it is an abomination. And if it is too bad for a
professed Christian to pray about it, is it not too bad for him to
practise it? If you continue, under all the light which God in his
providence has furnished with regard to its hurtful nature and
destructive effects, to furnish ardent spirit as a drink for your
fellow-men, you will run the fearful hazard of losing your soul, and you
will exert an influence which powerfully tends to destroy the souls of
your fellow-men. Every time you furnish it you are rendering it less
likely that they will be illuminated, sanctified, and saved, and more
likely that they will continue in sin and go down to the chambers of
death.
It is always worse for a church-member to do an immoral act, and teach
an immoral sentiment, than for an immoral man, because it does greater
mischief. And this is understood, and often adverted to by the immoral
themselves. Even drunkards are now stating it to their fellow-drunkards,
that church-members are not better than they. And to prove it, are
quoting the fact, that although they are not drunkards, and perhaps do
not get drunk, they, for the sake of money, carry on the business of
making drunkards. And are not the men and their business of the same
character? "The deacon," says a drunkard, "will not use ardent spirit
himself: he says, 'It is poison!' But for six cents he will sell it to
me. And though he will not furnish it to his own children, for he says,
'It will ruin them!' yet he will furnish it to mine. And there is my
neighbor, who was once as sober as the deacon himself, but he had a
pretty farm, which the deacon wanted, and for the sake of getting it he
has made him a drunkard. And his wife, as good a woman as ever lived,
has died of a broken heart, because her children would follow their
father." No, you cannot convince even a drunkard, that the man who is
selling him that which he knows is killing him, is any better than the
drunkard himself. Nor can you convince a sober man, that he who, for the
sake of money, will, with his eyes open, make drunkards of sober men, is
any less guilty than the drunkards he makes.
Is this writing upon their employment "Holiness unto the Lord," without
which no one, from the Bible, can expect to be prepared for the holy
joys of heaven? As ardent spirit is a poison which, when used even
moderately, tends to harden the heart, to sear the conscience, to blind
the understanding, to pollute the affections, to weaken and derange and
debase the whole man, and to lessen the prospect of his eternal life, it
is the indispensable duty of each person to renounce it. And he cannot
refuse to do this without becoming, if acquainted with this subject,
knowingly accessory to the temporal and eternal ruin of his fellow-men.
And what will it profit him to gain even the whole world by that which
ruins the soul?
My friend, you are soon to die, and in eternity to witness the
influence, the whole influence, which you exert while on earth, and you
are to witness its consequence in joy or sorrow to endless being.
Imagine yourself now, where you soon will be, _on your death-bed_. And
imagine that you have a full view of the property which you have caused
to be wasted, or which you have gained without furnishing any valuable
equivalent; of the health which you have destroyed, and the characters
which you have demoralized; of the wives that you have made widows, and
the children that you have made orphans; of all the lives that you have
shortened, and all the souls that you have destroyed. O! imagine that
these are the only "rod and staff" which you have to comfort you as you
go down the valley of the shadow of death, and that they will all meet
you in full array at the judgment and testify against you. What will it
profit you, though you have gained more money than you otherwise would,
when you have left it all far behind in that world which is destined to
fire, and the day of perdition of ungodly men? What will it profit, when
you are enveloped in the influence which you have exerted, and are
experiencing its consequences to endless ages; finding for ever that as
a man soweth so must he reap, and that if he has sowed death he must
reap _death_? Do not any longer assist in destroying men, nor expose
yourself and your children to be destroyed. Do good, and good only, to
all as you have opportunity, and good shall come unto you.
THE REWARDS OF DRUNKENNESS.
[Illustration: Drunk, with remonstrating wife, and small child]
If you wish to be always thirsty, be a Drunkard; for the oftener and
more you drink, the oftener and more thirsty you will be.
If you seek to prevent your friends raising you in the world, be a
Drunkard; for that will defeat all their efforts.
If you would effectually counteract your own attempts to do well, be a
Drunkard; and you will not be disappointed.
If you wish to repel the endeavors of the whole human race to raise you
to character, credit, and prosperity, be a Drunkard; and you will most
assuredly triumph.
If you are determined to be poor, be a Drunkard; and you will soon be
ragged and pennyless.
If you would wish to starve your family, be a Drunkard; for that will
consume the means of their support.
If you would be imposed on by knaves, be a Drunkard; for that will make
their task easy.
If you would wish to be robbed, be a Drunkard; which will enable the
thief to do it with more safety.
If you would wish to blunt your senses, be a Drunkard; and you will soon
be more stupid than an ass.
If you would become a fool, be a Drunkard; and you will soon lose your
understanding.
If you wish to unfit yourself for rational intercourse, be a Drunkard;
for that will accomplish your purpose.
If you are resolved to kill yourself, be a Drunkard; that being a sure
mode of destruction.
If you would expose both your folly and secrets, be a Drunkard; and they
will soon be made known.
If you think you are too strong, be a Drunkard; and you will soon be
subdued by so powerful an enemy.
If you would get rid of your money without knowing how, be a Drunkard;
and it will vanish insensibly.
If you would have no resource when past labor but a workhouse, be a
Drunkard; and you will be unable to provide any.
If you are determined to expel all comfort from your house, be a
Drunkard; and you will soon do it effectually.
If you would be always under strong suspicion, be a Drunkard; for little
as you think it, all agree that those who steal from themselves and
families will rob others.
If you would be reduced to the necessity of shunning your creditors, be
a Drunkard; and you will soon have reason to prefer the by-paths to the
public streets.
If you would be a dead weight on the community, and "cumber the ground,"
be a Drunkard; for that will render you useless, helpless, burdensome,
and expensive.
If you would be a nuisance, be a Drunkard; for the approach of a
Drunkard is like that of a dunghill.
If you would be hated by your family and friends, be a Drunkard; and you
will soon be more than disagreeable.
If you would be a pest to society, be a Drunkard; and you will be
avoided as infectious.
If you do not wish to have your faults reformed, continue to be a
Drunkard, and you will not care for good advice.
If you would smash windows, break the peace, get your bones broken,
tumble under carts and horses, and be locked up in watch-houses, be a
Drunkard; and it will be strange if you do not succeed.
If you wish all your prospects in life to be clouded, be a Drunkard; and
they will soon be dark enough.
If you would destroy your body, be a Drunkard; as drunkenness is the
mother of disease.
If you mean to ruin your soul, be a Drunkard; that you may be excluded
from heaven.
Finally, if you are determined to be utterly destroyed, in estate, body,
and soul, be a Drunkard; and you will soon know that it is impossible to
adopt a more effectual means to accomplish your--END.
"All the crimes on earth," says Lord Bacon, "do not destroy so many of
the _human race_, nor alienate so much _property_, as _drunkenness_."
_Drunkenness_ expels reason--drowns the memory--defaces
beauty--diminishes strength--inflames the blood--causes internal,
external, and incurable wounds--is a witch to the senses, a devil to the
soul, a thief to the purse--the beggar's companion, the wife's woe, and
children's sorrow--makes a strong man weak, and a wise man a fool. He is
worse than a beast, and is a self-murderer, who drinks to others' good
health, and robs himself of his own. He is worse than a beast, for no
animal will designedly intoxicate itself; but a drunkard swallows his
liquor, well knowing the condition to which it will reduce him, and that
these draughts will deprive him of the use of his reason, and render him
worse than a beast. By the effects of liquor his evil passions and
tempers are freed from restraint; and, while in a state of intoxication,
he commits actions, which, when sober, he would have shuddered to have
thought of. Many an evil deed has been done, many a MURDER has been
committed, when those who did these things were intoxicated.
Tremble, then, if ever you taste the intoxicating draught. Reflect,
before you put the cup to your lips. Remember that you are forming a
habit which will lead on to the commission of every crime to which the
propensities of your nature, rendered violent by indulgence, can urge
you. Before you are aware, you may find yourself awaking from a fit of
intoxication, guilty of offences against the laws of your country which
will draw down just vengeance upon your head; abhorring yourself, and an
abhorrence in the sight of heaven.
_Drunkenness_, persisted in, will assuredly _destroy your soul_, and
consign you to everlasting misery. Hear what the _word_ of _God_
declares.
"Awake, ye drunkards, and weep." Joel 1:5.
"Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contention? who hath wounds
without cause? They that tarry long at the wine, they that go to seek
mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine; at the last it biteth like a
serpent, and stingeth like an adder." Prov. 23:29-32.
"Woe unto them that rise up in the morning, that they may follow strong
drink; that continue until night, till wine inflame them." Isa. 5:11.
"Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to
mingle strong drink." Isa. 5:22.
"The works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: uncleanness,
murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like; of the which I tell
you, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of
God." Gal. 5:19, 21.
These are awful declarations, and they will certainly be fulfilled upon
him who continues to delight in drunkenness; he cannot enjoy the love of
God, he will not be received into heaven.
Separate yourself, then, utterly front this ensnaring sin. "Touch not;
taste not; handle not." In ENTIRE ABSTINENCE is your only safety. This
persevered in, you shall never fall. Wherever and however the temptation
is presented, "avoid it--turn from it, and pass away." Turn also from
every sin. "Commit your way unto the Lord," and he will "direct your
paths." A glorious provision is made for your salvation, through the
atoning blood of Christ. "God so loved the world, that he gave his
only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,
but have everlasting life." John 3:16. Commit your soul and your all to
him. He will guide you through life, enable you to vanquish every foe,
and crown you with victory in heaven.
PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.
THE WELL-CONDUCTED FARM.
[Illustration: Farmer dismissing drunk workman]
Mr. B----, a respectable farmer in Massachusetts, came, a number of
years ago, into the possession of a farm of about six hundred acres. On
this farm he employed eight or ten men. These men were in the habit, and
had been for years, of taking each a portion of ardent spirit, when they
labored, every day. They had grown up in the practice of taking it, and
the idea was fixed in their minds that they _could_ not do without. It
was the common opinion in the place, that, for laboring men, who had to
work hard, some ardent spirit was _necessary_. Mr. B---- for a time
followed the common practice, and furnished his men with a portion of
spirit _daily_. But after much attentive observation and mature
reflection, he became deeply impressed with the conviction that the
practice was not only useless, but hurtful. He became convinced that it
tends to lead men to intemperance; to undermine their constitutions;
and to sow the seeds of death, temporal and eternal. And he felt that he
could not be justified in continuing to cultivate his farm by means of a
practice which was ruining the bodies and souls of his fellow-men. He
therefore called his men together, and told them, in a kind and faithful
manner, what were his convictions. He told them that he was perfectly
satisfied that the practice of taking ardent spirits was not only
needless, but hurtful--that it tended to weaken and destroy both the
body and mind; and that he could not, consistently with his duty, be
instrumental in continuing a practice which he had no doubt tended to
destroy them both for this world and the world to come. He therefore,
from that time, should furnish them with no ardent spirits.
One of them said that he could not work without it; and if he did not
furnish them with it, he would not stay with him. "Very well," said Mr.
B----; "hand me your bill, and be off." The man replied, that he
presumed all the others would leave him. "Very well," said Mr. B----;
"tell them, any of them who choose to leave--all of them, if they choose
to go--to hand in their bills, and they shall have their money to-night.
If they stay, however, they shall have nourishing food and drink, at any
time, and in any abundance which they wish; and at the close of the year
each one shall have twelve dollars, that is, one dollar a month, in
addition to his wages. But I shall furnish no spirits of any kind,
neither shall I have it taken by men in my employment. I had rather my
farm would grow up to weeds, than be cultivated by means of so
pernicious a practice as that of taking ardent spirits." However, none
of the men left, except that one. And when he saw that all the others
concluded to stay, he came back, and said, that as the others had
concluded to stay, and do without rum, he believed that he could, and he
should be glad to stay, too, if Mr. B---- had no objection. But he told
him, No, he did not wish him to stay; he would make of him an example,
and he must go. So he departed. The rest went to work, and he furnished
them with no spirits from that time through the season. Yet his work, he
said, was done "with less trouble, in a better manner, and in better
season, than ever before." Some of his men, however, he found, when they
went abroad, did take ardent spirits. They sometimes procured it at the
tavern, or a store; and in some instances took it secretly, while on his
farm. The evil, therefore, although greatly lessened, was not entirely
done away.
When he came to hire men again, he let it be known that he did not wish
to hire any man who was not willing to abstain entirely, and at all
times, from the use of ardent spirits. His neighbors told him that he
could not hire men on those conditions; that men could not be found who
would do without rum, especially in haying and harvesting. Well, he
said, then he would not hire them at all. His farm should grow up to
weeds. As to cultivating it by the help of rum, he would not. By
allowing men in his employment, and for whose conduct he was in a
measure responsible, to take ardent spirits, he should be lending his
influence to continue a practice, or he should at least be conniving at
a practice, which was destroying more lives, making more mothers widows,
and children orphans, than famine, pestilence, and sword: a practice
which was destroying by thousands, and tens of thousands, not only the
bodies, but the _souls_ of men, rendering them, and their children after
them, wretched for this world, and the world to come. "No," said he, "I
will clear my hands of this enormous guilt. I will not by practice
encourage, or by silence, or having men in my employment who take ardent
spirits, connive at this deadly evil." However, he found no difficulty
in hiring men, and of the best kind. And when his neighbors saw, that by
giving one dollar a month more than others, he could hire as many men as
he pleased, they gave up that objection. But they said, it was bad
policy; for the men would not do so much work, and he would, in the
end, be a loser. But he told them that, although they might not at first
do quite so much, he presumed that they would in the end do more. But if
they should not, only let them do, said he, what they easily can, and I
shall be satisfied. My Maker does not require of me any more than I can
do without rum, (for he used no ardent spirits himself) and I shall
require no more of them. His men went to work. And his business
prospered exceedingly. His men were remarkably uniform in their temper
and deportment; still, and peaceable.
He found them every day alike, and he could always safely trust them.
What he expected to have done, he found _was_ done, in good season, and
in the best manner. His men never made so few mistakes, had so few
disputes among themselves; they never injured and destroyed so few
tools, found so little fault with their manner of living, or were, on
the whole, so pleasant to one another, and to their employer. The men
appeared, more than ever before, like brethren of the same family,
satisfied with their business, contented, and happy.
At the close of the year, one of them came to Mr. B----, and, with tears
in his eyes, said, "Sir, I thought that you were very hard, in keeping
us from drinking rum. I had always been accustomed to it, and I thought
that I could not do without it. And for the first three months," said
he, "it was hard, very hard. I had such a _caving in_ here"--putting his
hands up to his side--"I had such a _desperate caving in_ here, that I
thought I should die. But, as you gave us good wages, and good pay, and
the rest resolved to stand it without rum, I thought I would.
"And now," said he, "I am well and happy. I work with ease, sleep
sweetly, and when I get up in the morning, instead of having, as I used
to, my mouth and throat"--to use his own words--"so _full of cobwebs_,
as to be _spitting cotton wool_ all the time, my mouth and throat are
clear as a whistle. I feel active, have a good appetite, and can eat any
thing.
"Formerly, when I worked hard, I was at night tired, and could not
sleep. When I got up in the morning I was so sore and stiff, so filled
up in my throat, and my appetite was so gone, that I could do nothing
till I had taken a glass of rum and molasses. I then stood it till
breakfast. But my breakfast did not relish, and what I took did not seem
to nourish me. Soon after I got to work I was _so hollow and so tired_,
that I felt _desperate ugly_ till 11 o'clock. Then I took a _new
vamper_. And by the strength of that I got on till dinner. Then I must
have a little more to give me an appetite. At three o'clock in the
afternoon I must have recourse"--these were his words--"_to the hair of
the same dog_, to keep up my sinking spirits. And thus I got along till
night. Then I must have a little to sharpen appetite for supper. And
after supper I could not sleep, till I had taken _another nightcap_.
"Thus I continued," said he, "year after year, undermining a
constitution which was naturally very robust; and growing worse and
worse, until I came under your wise and excellent regulations. And now,"
said he, "I am cured. I _am cured_. I can now do more labor than when I
took spirits, without _half_ the fatigue, and take nothing stronger than
pure cold water. If a man would give me the same wages that you do, and
a dollar a day in addition, to return to the practice of drinking rum, I
would laugh at him." All this was the free, spontaneous effusion of his
own mind, in view of the great change wrought in his feelings by leaving
off _entirely_ the use of ardent spirits.
Another of the workmen came to Mr. B---- and said, that he had found it
very hard to do without rum at first; but he could now freely say, that
he never enjoyed so good health, or felt so well, as he did then. He
said that in cold weather in the winter, and after chopping all day in
the woods, especially if exposed to rains, or if his feet were wet, he
had for a long time been accustomed to a very bad rheumatism, and at
night to a dreadful headache. He took spirits temperately, and he
supposed it was necessary to guard him against these evils. Still he
suffered them; and he found nothing that would prevent them. But since
he had left off entirely the use of spirits, he had had no rheumatism,
and been entirely free from the headache.