one of our little number, dear sister Elizabeth C. Hamilton, who was one
of the four mothers who met together to converse and to ask counsel of
our pastor on the subject of forming this Association. On the 11th of
October, her spirit took its flight from this frail tenement of clay, as
we humbly trust to the mansions of the blest. With her bereaved and
afflicted companion and infant daughters, we do most sincerely
sympathize. May we remember that we have promised to seek the spiritual
and eternal interests of her children as we do that of our own! Let us
not cease to pray for her children until we shall hear them lisping
forth the praises of the dear Redeemer. As we commence a new year, shall
we not commence anew to live for God? Ere another year has gone, some
one of this our little number may be called from time to eternity; and
shall we not prove what prayer can do; what heavenly blessings it will
bring down upon our offspring? But perhaps some mother will say, I
should esteem it the dearest of all privileges, if I could lay hold in
faith on God's blessed promises, but when I would do so a sense of my
own unworthiness shuts my mouth. But which of God's promises was ever
made to the worthy recipient? Are they not all to the unworthy and
undeserving? And if "Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon
his knees," shall we not take courage, and claim God's blessed promises
for ours, and often in silence and in solitude bend the knee for those
we love most dear?
While memory lasts I shall never forget my mother's earnest,
supplicating, trembling voice, as she pleaded with God for Christ's
sake to have mercy on her children. And shall our children forget ours?
No, dear sisters, let our entreaties with our God be as they will, I
think they will not be forgotten. Therefore, let us be more awake to
this subject, let us sincerely endeavor to train our children up for
God, that they may be useful in his service while they live, and that we
may be that happy band of mothers that may be able to say in God's great
day: Here, Lord, are we, and the children which thou hast given us.
A. HAMILTON, _Secretary_.
_Salem, Wash. Co., Michigan_, Dec. 31, 1851.
* * * * *
Original.
BROTHERLY LOVE.
BY REV. MANCIUS S. HUTTON, D.D.
"Be kindly affectioned one to another, with brotherly love, in
honor preferring one another."
In no system of morals or religion, except the Bible, can such a precept
be found. It at once proclaims its divine author. We feel as we read
it--here speaks that God and Almighty Father who so loved the world as
to give his Son to die to save it. We feel that none but a being who
regards himself as the Father of all, and who would unite his children
in the bonds of family affection, would think of urging upon a company
of men and women, gathered from all classes and conditions of life, the
duly regarding each other with the same sincerity, tenderness, respect
and kindness as if they were the nearest relatives. Such is the force of
the expression, "Be kindly affectioned one to another." The word
expresses properly the strong natural affection between parents and
children; but the apostle is not satisfied with this, and uses the word
to qualify that brotherly love which our Lord has made the badge of
discipleship. It should be with the tenderness and the unselfishness
which characterize the filial and paternal relation, blending love with
natural affection, and making it manifest in common intercourse. Oh, how
different this from the spirit of the world, the spirit which seeks not
to bless others, but self; not to confer honor but to obtain it; which
aims not to diffuse respect, but to attract all others to give honor to
ourselves.
I design at present to use this divine injunction as conveying the Holy
Spirit's direction and description of proper family intercourse, in
reference, particularly, to children in the family circle.
I notice very briefly (for the direction must commend itself to the
heart of every child) its application to parents: "Be kindly affectioned
toward your father and mother." It is indeed hardly necessary to urge
this duty, for God has in his wisdom so constituted us, as in a good
degree to insure the duty of filial love even in those who do not regard
his own authority over their spirits. No child can for a moment reflect
upon the love and care which he has received from his parents, without a
moved heart, although he can never know their full power until he
himself becomes a parent; but here indeed lies the difficulty, and here
do I find the necessity of dwelling for a moment upon this point.
Children do not reflect upon this. Few ever sit down, calmly and
consecutively, to recall the parental kindness, and therefore, would I
ask each of you, my young friends, that you may obey this injunction,
and be kindly affectionate towards father and mother, to consider their
kindness to you. Why, if you look at it, you will hardly be able to find
that they have any other care in the world, or any other object, than
yourselves. What does that kind mother of yours do which is not for her
children? does she not seem always to be thinking of you? have you never
noticed how her eye brightens with delight when you or any of your
brothers or sisters do right, or even when she looks around on the
health and happiness of her children? and, when you or any of her dear
ones are ill, how sad she looks, how her cheek will become pale, and how
she will watch and wait at the bed-side of her child, how her own hand
gives the medicine, how nothing can call her away from home, no friends,
no amusements, often not even the church and Sabbath-day, and if she did
go to church while you were ill, she went there to pray that God would
make you well. And I would have you also think of the large surrenders
of ease, time and fortune which your father is daily making for the
benefit and comfort of his children. How many fathers will compass land
and sea in quest of provision for them, and in order to give them name
and station in society? How many adventurously plow the ocean in their
behalf? How many live for years in exile, and in the estrangement of a
foreign land, with nothing to soothe them in the midst of their toil and
fatigue, but the image of their dear and distant home? How many toil and
plan, day after day, and year after year, from early morn until late at
night, for no other object than to gather wealth, which in their love
they expect and intend their children to enjoy, when they themselves
have gone down to the grave! Oh, my young friends, though ye have not
perhaps thought of it, yet the devotedness of a parent to his children,
in the common every-day duties and comforts of life, often equals and
surpasses that which history has recorded for us of the sublimest
heroism.
It would often seem utterly impossible to wear out a father's affection
or a mother's love, and many a child, after the perversities and losses
of a misdirected manhood, has found himself welcomed back again to the
paternal home, with all the unquenched and unextinguishable kindness of
his early and dependent childhood; welcomed even amid the hardships of
poverty, with which declining years and his own hand, perhaps, have
united to surround the whitening heads of the authors of his being.
Now, it is in view of the reality and strength of these parental
regards, thus flowing from a father's or a mother's heart upon their
children, that we bid you see the force, the reason, and the right of
the direction, Be kindly affectionate in all your intercourse with them.
And it is in the same view that we appeal to your own hearts, and ask
whether it be not most revolting and wrong for a son or daughter to
utter the word, or dart the look, or feel the feeling which is prompted
by wickedness; a disdainful son or disrespectful daughter is a sight
most painful to every right-minded man.
But while I mention this as the rule which should govern the family in
their treatment of those who stand at its head, I would also beg leave
to remark, that this same law should govern the heads of the family
towards each other and all the members. This is the only way by which
reciprocal affectionate regard and treatment can be inculcated and
insured. The Holy Spirit has deemed this so important, that He has given
the express injunction to parents: "Fathers, provoke not your children;"
and it is an injunction which parents need constantly to remember. The
natural and necessary subjection of the children to parental authority,
unless the hearts of the parents be guided by religious principle, will
often induce an arbitrary and enforced obedience, which, unless guided
and controlled by affection, will have only the appearance of harshness,
and will only produce unpleasant feeling. Parents should never forget
that it is always as unpleasant to a child to have his will and plans
crossed as it is to themselves, and that, therefore, it is their own
obedience to the injunction, Be kindly affectioned, which alone can make
their authority both strong and pleasant. There are again so many cares
and anxieties connected with the details of family arrangements, and
there are so much thoughtlessness and perversity in the depraved hearts
of the most amiable and properly disposed children, that the patience of
even the all-enduring mother will often be tried in a manner which
nothing but divine grace can sustain. Ill health and natural
irritability, so constantly exposed to attack, will often increase the
difficulty, and thus make the injunction, Be kindly affectioned, one of
the most arduous duties of life. But the triumph of principle will
always be accompanied with corresponding valuable results in the
happiness and comforts of the whole family circle.
* * * * *
Original.
KNOW THYSELF.
Many instructive lessons may be conveyed to the minds of children in
story and in verse. We do not now remember who is the author of the
story we are about to relate. It may be familiar to many of our readers.
We venture, however, to repeat it in our own words, as it has an
important moral worthy the attention of the old as well as the young:--
A man and his wife were hard at work in a forest, cutting down trees.
The trees were very hardy and tall, and their axes were dull; the
weather was cold and dreary, they were but poorly clad, and they had but
little to eat.
At length, the woman, in her despondency, fell to crying. Her husband
very kindly inquired, "What is the matter, my dear wife?"
"I have been thinking," said she, "of our hard fate, and it does seem to
me a hard case that God should curse the ground for Adam's sake, just
because he and his wife had eaten a green apple; and now all their
descendants must earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, all their
days."
The man replied, "Do not, my dear wife, distress yourself thus, seeing
it will do no good."
She continued, "I do think that Adam and Eve were very foolish to listen
to any thing that a serpent had to say. If I had been in the place of
Eve I am sure I should have done otherwise."
To this her husband replied, "True, my dear wife, Eve was a very silly
woman. I think, if I had been in Adam's place, before I would have
listened to her foolish advice, and run such a hazard, I would have
given her a smart box on the ear, and told her to hold her tongue, and
to mind her own business."
This remark made his wife very angry, and here followed a long dialogue
on this topic till they began mutually to criminate each other as well
as the serpent.
Now, a gentleman, who had all this time been concealed behind the trees,
and had heard their complaints, and listened with grief to their
fault-finding disposition, came forward and spoke to them very kindly.
He said, "My friends, you seem to be hard at work, and very unhappy.
Pray tell me the cause of your misery, and whether I can do anything to
comfort you?"
So they repeated to this gentleman what they had been saying.
He replied to them thus: "Now, my dear friends, I am truly sorry for
you, and I desire to make you more comfortable. I have a large estate,
and I wish to make others as happy as I am myself. I have a fine house,
plenty of servants, and every thing desirable to eat and to drink. I
have fine grounds, filled with shrubbery and fruit trees. If you will go
and live with me you have only to obey the regulations of my house, and
as long as you do this and are contented, you shall be made welcome."
So they went with this gentleman. At once he took off their rough and
ragged garments, and clad them in a fine suit of clothes, suited to the
place, and put them into a spacious apartment, where for a time they
lived very happily.
One day this gentleman came to them, and said business of importance
would call him from home for some days. In the mean time he hoped they
would be happy and do every thing in their power to reflect honor upon
his hospitality till his return. He said he had but one other suggestion
to make, and that was, that _for his sake_ they would be very careful to
set a good example before his servants, and do every thing _cheerfully_
that they should direct, for up to this hour not one of his servants had
ever questioned the reasonableness of his commands.
They thanked him kindly for his generous supply of all their wants, and
promised implicit obedience.
They now had, if possible, more sumptuous meals, and in greater variety
than ever, and for a few days every thing went on well. At length, a
servant placed a covered dish in the center of the table, remarking that
he always had orders from his master, when that particular dish was
placed upon the table, that no one, on pain of his displeasure, should
touch it, much less lift the cover.
For a few days these guests were so occupied in examining the new dishes
that this order was obeyed.
But the woman at length began to wonder why that dish should be placed
on the table if it were not to be touched; she did not for her part see
any use in it.
Every meal she grew more and more discontented. She appealed to her
husband if he did not think such a prohibition very unreasonable. If it
were not to be touched, why was it placed on the table?
Her husband at length grew very angry; she would neither eat herself nor
allow him to eat in peace. She at length remonstrated, she threatened;
she used various arguments to induce him to lift the cover; said no one
need to know it, &c. Still her good-natured husband tried to reason her
out of this notion. She now burst into tears, and said her life was
miserable by this gentleman's singular prohibition, which could do no
one any good; and she was still more wretched by reason of her husband's
unkindness,--she really believed that he had lost all affection for her.
This remark made her husband feel very badly. He lifted the cover and
out ran a little harmless mouse. They both ran after it, and tried their
best to catch it, but in vain.
While they were feeling very unhappy, and were trembling with fear, the
gentleman entered, and seeing their great embarrassment, inquired if
they had dared to lift the cover?
The woman replied that she did not see what harm there could be in doing
so. She did not think it kind to place such a temptation before them; it
could do no one any good.
The man added that his wife teazed him so that he had no peace, and
rather than see her unhappy he had lifted the cover.
The gentleman then reminded them of their fault-finding while in the
forest, their hard thoughts of God, of the serpent, and of Adam and Eve.
Had it been their case they should have acted more wisely! But, alas!
they did not know themselves!
He immediately ordered his servants to take off their nice new clothes
and to put on their old garments, and he sent them back to the forest,
ever after to eat their bread _by the sweat_ of their brow.
* * * * *
Original.
OLD JUDA.
Many years since, I took into my service an old colored woman by the
name of Juda. She was a poor, pitiful object, almost worn out by hard
and long service. But I needed just such services as she could render,
and intrusted to her the general supervision of my kitchen department.
Under the care bestowed upon her she fast recruited, and I continued to
employ her for three years. I gave her good wages, and, as for years I
had induced all my help to do, I persuaded her to deposit in the
savings' bank all the money she could spare. Fortunately for poor old
Juda, she laid up during these three years a considerable sum.
Before this, she had always been improvident, careless of her earnings,
and from a disposition to change often out of place. But as one extreme
is apt to follow another, when she found that she had several dollars
laid aside, entirely a new thing for her, there was quite a revolution
in her feelings and character. She now inclined to covetousness, and
could hardly be persuaded to expend a sum sufficient to make herself
comfortable in extreme cold weather which sensibly affected her in her
old age and feeble health. At length her disposition to hoard up her
earnings increased to that degree that she resorted to many unnecessary
and imprudent means to avoid expense and to evade my requirements with
regard to her apparel. But for this parsimony she might have held out
some years longer. She greatly improved in health and strength for the
first two years, and was more comfortable and useful than I expected she
would be. Always at her post, patient, faithful, economical and
obliging, I really felt grateful for the relief she afforded me in the
management of a large family; but at length I was obliged to dismiss her
from my service. For a few months she found employment in a small
family, but soon fell sick, and required the services of a physician.
She had to find a place of retirement and take to her bed, and soon her
money began to disappear.
Her miserable sister, who had exercised an injurious influence over
Juda, and whom I had found it necessary to forbid coming to my house,
now came constantly to me for this money, for Juda's use, it is true,
but which I had reason to fear was not wisely spent. Under this
impression, I broke away from my cares and set out to look after her
welfare. I was pained to find her in a miserable hovel, surrounded by a
crew of selfish, ignorant, lazy and degraded women, who were ready to
filch the last farthing from the poor, helpless invalid.
My first interview with Juda was extremely painful. She hid her head,
her great wall eyes rolling fearfully, and cried bitterly, "Oh! I am
forever undone. Why did I not listen to your entreaties, and heed the
kind advice of my good master, to lay up treasures in heaven as well as
in the savings' bank!" I remained silent by her bedside, thinking it
better for her to give full vent to her agonized feelings before I
should probe her wounded spirit, or try to console her. "Oh," said she,
"that I could once more have health, that I might attend to what ought
to have been the business of my life--the care of my soul." "Yes, Juda,"
I replied, "but I see, I think, plainly, how it would be had you ever so
much time. You would not be very likely to improve it aright, for even
now you are wasting this last fragment of time that remains to you in
fruitless regrets; why not rather inquire earnestly, 'Is there still any
hope for me? What shall I do to be saved? Lord, save me, or I perish.'"
For some time her emotions choked her utterance, at length she seized
both my hands so forcibly that it seemed as if she would sever them from
my wrists, and exclaimed, "Oh, pray for me!"
Her condition was an awful one. From the nature of her ailment she was a
loathsome object. Not one of her old companions would approach her, for
to them she was now peculiarly an object of terror. Her entreaties that
I would not leave her in the power of such cruel wretches, to perish
alone, and without hope, prevailed over my own reluctance and the
remonstrances of my husband, and summoning up all my resolution, I
remained with her, with but little respite, for three days and nights.
Her bodily sufferings continued to be extreme to the last, but were
nothing in comparison to her mental agonies. What a condition of mind
and body was hers! Every moment demanding something to cool her parched
tongue, or to allay her fears, or to encourage her hopes.
Never shall I forget the last night of painful and protracted suffering.
The miserable woman who pretended to assist me in watching, had taken
some stupefying potion, and I watched alone, as David expressed it,
longing for the first ray of the morning. At length, the day dawned, and
I was relieved by good old Mr. Moore. As he entered, I said to him,
"Poor Juda is still living, and is a great sufferer; will you not pray
for her?" He replied, "I come purpose pray with Juda." Then kneeling,
prayed, "Oh Lord, Oh Lord God Almighty, we come to thee for this poor
dying creature. Have mercy on her precious soul--Lord God, it will never
die. Forgive her sins; oh, Lord God, take the lead of her thoughts
to-day, TO-DAY, TO-DAY; Lord God, take the lead of her thoughts
to-day, for Christ's sake. Amen."
This was indeed her dying day, and I could not but hope that this humble
but pertinent prayer was prevalent with God.
Very many times since then, as I have caught the first glimpse of day,
have I said, This may prove my dying day, and prayed, Oh Lord, take the
lead of my thoughts to-day.
* * * * *
Original.
GOD IS FAITHFUL.
"The fruits of maternal influence, well directed," said a good minister,
"are peace, improvement, and often piety, in the nursery; but if the
children of faithful mothers are not converted in early life, God is
true to his promise and will remember his covenant, perhaps after those
mothers sleep with the generations of their ancestors."
"Several years since," that same minister stated, "he was in the
Alms-house in Philadelphia, and was attracted to the bedside of a sick
man, whom he found to be a happy Christian, having embraced the Gospel
after he was brought, a stranger in a strange land, to that infirmary.
Though religiously educated by a pious mother, he clandestinely left
home at the age of ten years, and since that period--he was now forty,
or more--had been wandering over the earth, regardless of the claims of
God or the worth of his own soul.
"In Philadelphia he was taken with a dangerous fever, and was brought to
the place where I met him. There, on that bed of languishing, the scenes
of his early childhood clustered around him, and among them the image of
his mother was fairest and brightest, and in memory's vision she seemed
to stand, as in former days, exhorting him to become the friend and
disciple of the blessed Savior. The honeyed accents were irresistible.
"Through the long lapse of thirty years--though she was now sleeping in
the grave--her appeal came with force to break his flinty heart.
"With no living Christian to direct him on that bed of sickness,
remembering what his mother had told him one-third of a century before,
he yielded to the claims of Jesus."
Here the power and faithfulness of a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering
God were exhibited. Here was a mother's influence crowned with a
glorious conquest.
* * * * *
EXCERPTA.
AN AMERICAN HOME.--The word Home we have obtained from the old
Saxon tongue. Transport the word to Africa, China, Persia, Turkey or
Russia, and it loses its meaning. Where is it but in our favored land
that the father is allowed to pursue his own plan for the good of his
family, and with his sons to labor in what profession he chooses and
then enjoy the avails of his labor? The American Home is the abode of
neatness, thrift and competence, not the wretched hut of the Greenlander
or Caffrarian, or under-ground place of Kamschatka. The American Home is
the house of intelligence; its inmates can read; they have the Bible;
they can transmit thought. The American Home is the resting-place of
contentment and peace; there is found mutual respect, untiring love and
kindness; there, virtue claiming respect; there, the neighbor is
regarded and prized; there, is safety; the daily worship; the principle
of religion.
Ten thousand good people noiselessly at work every day, making more firm
all good felt at home or abroad, and fixing happiness and good
institutions on a basis lasting as heaven.