devoted--so saintlike--it would seem that she was in constant and sweet
communing with the redeemed spirit of her boy. No regret, no repining
escaped her lips, and many who knew how fondly she loved her children,
and had feared that this sudden blow would almost overwhelm her, gazed
with wonder at her perfect submission, her cheerful touching tenderness
of voice and speech. And though tears would at times flow, yet she would
say in the midst of them, "These are not tears of grief but of joy, that
my darling son is safe, and holy, and blessed forever. Tears of
gratitude to God for His goodness." And when hours of sadness, and of
longing for her absent one came, as they _will_ come to the bereaved at
times, a faint voice seemed to whisper in her ear. "Mother, you have
saved me, you have saved my soul!" And sweetest comfort came with that
never to be forgotten whisper from the dying bed of her precious child,
to sustain her in the darkest hour.
Fathers! Plead as you will, that you are full of care and labor to
support your families. Say it over and over, till you really believe it
yourself, if you please, that when you come home tired at night, you
cannot be crazed with the clatter of children's tongues. You want to
rest and be quiet. So you do, and so you should--but have you any right
to be so perfectly worn out with business, that the voice of your own
child is irksome to you? Try, for once, a little pleasant, quiet,
instructive chat with him. Enter for a few moments into his feelings,
and pursuits and thoughts--for that child _has_ feelings, that need
cherishing tenderly, for your own future comfort. He _has_ pursuits, and
you are the one to talk with him about them, and kindly tell him which
are right and useful, and which he would do better to let alone. He
_has_ thoughts, and who shall direct that mind aright which must think
forever, if not the author of his being? Ask of his school, and his
playmates, and see if your own spirit is not rested and refreshed, and
your heart warmed by this little effort to win the love and confidence,
and delight the heart of this young immortal, who owes his entrance into
this weary world to you, and whom you are under the most solemn
obligations, to strive to prepare to act well his part in it. Do not say
this is his mother's business. Has the Bible laid any command upon
mothers? Would it not seem that He who formed her heart, knew that she
needed not to be told to labor, in season and out of season, for her
beloved offspring? But to _you_ is the strong command, "_Fathers_,
provoke not your children to wrath, but _bring them up_ in the nurture
and admonition of the Lord."
Mothers, do you not reap a rich reward for curbing your own spirits, for
every self-denial, for untiring devotion to the immortals given to your
care, with souls to be saved or lost? Oh! neglect them not, lest
conscience utter the fearful whisper, "Mother, _you might have saved
that soul_!"
ELLEN ELLISON.
Feb. 1852.
* * * * *
Original.
NEVER TEMPT ANOTHER.
There are thousands of persons in the United States to whom the name of
Jonathan Trumbull, formerly a governor of Connecticut, is familiar--I
mean the first governor of that name. He was a friend and supporter of
General Washington during the Revolutionary War, and greatly contributed
by his judicious advice and prompt aid to achieve the Independence of
America.
This Governor Trumbull had a son by the name of John, who became
distinguished in the use of the pencil, and who left several paintings
of great merit commemorative of scenes in the history of our
revolutionary struggle. My story relates to an incident which occurred
during the boyhood of John.
His father, for the purpose of giving employment to the Mohegan Indians,
a tribe living within the bounds of the Connecticut colony, though at
some distance from the governor's residence, hired several of their
hunters to kill animals of various kinds for their furs. One of the most
successful of these hunters was a sachem by the name of Zachary.
But Zachary was a drunkard, and persisted in his intemperate habits till
he reached the age of fifty. By whose means I am unable to say, but at
that time he was induced utterly to abandon the use of intoxicating
drinks. His life was extended to eighty years, but he was never known
after the above reformation, although often under powerful temptation,
to taste in a single instance of the "accursed thing."
In his history of the Indians of Connecticut, De Forest has given us an
account of the manful resistance of Zachary on one occasion of an artful
temptation to violate his temperance principles, spread before him by
John Trumbull, at his father's house. He says, "In those days the annual
ceremony of election was a matter of more consequence than it is now;
and the Indians, especially, used to come in considerable numbers to
Hartford and New Haven to stare at the governor, and the soldiers, and
the crowds of citizens, as they entered those cities, Jonathan
Trumbull's house was about half-way between Mohegan and Hartford, and
Zachary was in the habit of stopping, on his way to election, to dine
with his old employer.
"John Trumbull, then about ten years old, had heard of the reformation
of Zachary, and, partaking of the common contempt for the intemperate
and worthless character of the Indians, did not entirely credit it. As
the family were sitting around the dinner-table, he resolved to test the
sincerity of the visitor's temperance.
"Sipping some home-brewed beer, which stood on the table, he said to the
old man, 'Zachary, this beer is excellent; won't you taste it?' The
knife and fork dropped from the Indian's hand; he leaned forward with a
stern intensity of expression, his dark eyes, sparkling with
indignation, were fixed on the young tempter: 'John,' said he, 'you
don't know what you are doing. You are serving the devil, boy. Don't you
know that I am an Indian? I tell you that I am; and if I should taste
your beer, I could never stop until I got to rum, and become again the
drunken, contemptible wretch your father once knew me. _John, while you
live, never again tempt any man to break a good resolution._'"
This was said in an earnest, solemn tone, and deeply affected Governor
Trumbull and lady, who were at the table. John was justly awed, and deep
was the impression made upon him. His parents often recurred to the
incident, and charged their son never to forget it.
The advice of the sachem was indeed most valuable. "Never again tempt
any man to break a good resolution." It were well if this precept were
followed by all. How many who are reformed from evil habits, yet not
firm and established, but who would persevere in their better
resolutions were they encouraged, are suddenly, and to themselves
surprisingly, set back by some tempter! What sorrow is engendered! and
how difficult to regain what is thus lost! All this is essentially true
of the young. Their good resolutions are assaulted; the counsels of a
pious mother--the precepts of a kind father, and the determinations
which a son may have formed in view of those counsels and those
precepts, may be easily undermined and destroyed by the flattery or the
ridicule, the reproach or the banter of some subtle or even of some
thoughtless companion. To those who may read these pages, and who may at
any time be tempted to seduce others from paths of virtue, or to break
over solemn resolutions which they may have formed as to an upright and
commendable course of life, let the injunction of old Zachary, the
Mohegan sachem, not come in vain. "Never tempt any one to break a good
resolution."
G.
* * * * *
Original.
DESPONDENCY AND HOPE.
AN ALLEGORY.
BY MRS. J. NORTON.
In a lone forest, dark and drear,
Stood wrapt in grief a maiden fair;
Her flowing locks were wet with dew,
Her life was sad, her friends were few.
A sparkling light gleam'd distant far,
Like twinkling faint of evening star;
Quickly it spread its brilliant ray,
Till forest drear looked bright and gay.
And on the wings of love and light,
A radiant figure, pure and white,
Approached and spake with accents mild:
"Why so despondent, sorrow's child?
"When thy lone feet the violet press,
Its perfume rises still to bless;
While groves and lawns, with landscape fair,
Are bathed in healthful mountain air."
"Ah, friend! thy path shines bright and clear;
Daily thou breath'st the mountain air;
But mine is in the barren wild,
Where naught looks bright to sorrow's child."
"Then take my arm, pale sister, dear,
With you I'll tread this forest drear;
When guided by this light from Heav'n,
Strength and peace will both be given."
They journeyed on through glade and fen,
'Till passing near a rocky glen,
Mild Patience came and sweetly smiled
Upon the path of sorrow's child.
The measured way still brighter grew,
'Till cares and griefs were faint and few.
Thus, Hope and Patience oft beguiled
The toil-worn path of sorrow's child.
* * * * *
Original.
THE MOTHERS OF THE BIBLE.
THE MOTHERS OF ISRAEL AT HOREB.
There is no path of duty appointed for man to tread, concerning which
the Almighty has not expressed his will in terms so plain that the
sincere inquirer may always hear a voice behind him saying, "This is the
way, walk ye in it;" nor are there any relations of life, nor any human
affections which he has not constituted, and bestowed, nor any
disappointment of those affections for which he has not manifested a
sympathy so sincere, that the desolate and heart-stricken may always
say, "Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."
Yet, it is something difficult for us to realize in our hours of
darkness and despondency, that toward us personally and individually,
the great heart of Infinite Love yearns with tenderness and pity. Even
if we can say, "Though clouds and darkness are round about him, justice
and judgment are the habitation of his throne," and can acquiesce meekly
in all his dispensations, and believe sincerely that they will work for
our good, yet we often fail of the blessedness which might be ours, if
we could be equally assured that, "_As a father pitieth his children, so
doth the Lord pity them that fear him._" This assurance only the
faithful student of the Bible can feel, as the great truth gleams forth
upon him from time to time, illuming "dark afflictions midnight gloom"
with rays celestial, and furnishing balm for every wound, the balm of
sympathy and love.
We often hear it said, by those who even profess themselves Christians,
and devout lovers of the sacred oracles, "How can you read the book of
Leviticus? What can you find in the dry details of the ceremonial law to
detain you months in its study and call forth such expressions of
interest?" Such will probably pass by this article when they find
themselves invited again to Horeb. Turn back, friends. You are not the
only ones who have excused themselves from a _feast_. And we--we will
extend our invitation to others. On the by-ways and lanes they can be
found; in every corner of this wide-spread earth are some for whom our
table is prepared. We leave the prosperous, the gay, the happy, and
speak to the desolate--the widowed.
Dearly beloved, you can look back to a day in your history over which no
cloud lowered, when you wore the bridal wreath, and stood at the sacred
altar, and laid your hand in a hand faithful and true, and pledged vows
of love, and when hope smiled on all your future path; but who have
lived to see all you then deemed most precious, laid beneath the clods
of the valley, and have exchanged buds of orange for the most intensely
sable of earthly weeds; you who once walked on your earthly journey in
sweet companionship which brightened your days; who were wont to lay
your weary head every night on the faithful "pillowing breast," and
there forget your woes and cares, but who are now _alone_; you who
trusted in manly counsel and guidance for your little ones, but who now
shed bitter, unavailing tears in every emergency which reminds you that
they are fatherless; and, worse than all, you who had all your wants
supplied by the loving, toiling husband and father, but have now to
contend single-handed with poverty,--come, sorrowing, widowed hearts,
visit with us Horeb's holy mound. It is, indeed, a barren spot;
nevertheless, it has blossoms of loveliness for you. Come in faith, and
perchance the prophet's vision shall be yours--peradventure, the "still,
small voice" which bade to rest the turmoil of his soul, shall soothe
your griefs also; the words which are heard from its summit as Jehovah
gives to Moses his directions, have indeed to do with "meats and drinks
and divers washings," yet, if you listen intently, you will now and then
hear those which, as the expression of your Heavenly Father's heart,
will amply repay the toil of the ascent. Draw near and hearken:
"Ye shall not afflict any widow nor fatherless child. If thou afflict
them in any wise, and they cry at all unto me, I will surely hear their
cry, and my wrath shall wax hot, and I will kill you with the sword;
and your wives shall be widows, your children fatherless."
Will you not now be comforted? "The Eternal makes your sorrows his own,"
and Himself stands forth as your protector against every ill.
"When thou cuttest down thy harvest in thy field, and hast forgotten the
sheaf in the field, thou shalt not go again to fetch it, but it shall be
for the stranger, and the fatherless, and the widow, that the Lord thy
God may bless thee in all the works of thy hands."
If God's will is done, you see you will not suffer. He will raise you up
friends, and those who obey Him, who wish to please Him, will always be
ready to aid you for His sake. As shown to himself, he regards and will
reward the kindness shown to you, and He has all hearts in his hands.
But this is not all. A certain portion of every Israelite's possessions
is to be given to furnish the table of the Lord, and, as if to assure
you that He considers you His own, and will perform the part of husband
and father for you at that table, and in his own house he provides for
you ever a place. "In the tithes of wine, corn and oil, the firstlings
of the herds and flocks, in all that is to be devoted to the service of
the Lord, you have your share.
"At the end of three years thou shalt bring forth all the tithe of thine
increase the same year and lay it up within the gates. And the Levite,
because he hath no part nor inheritance with thee, and the stranger, and
the fatherless, and the widow, which are within thy gates, shall come
and eat and be satisfied, that the Lord thy God may bless thee in all
the work of thine hand which thou doest."
Do you sorrowfully say that no such table is now spread? But He who thus
provided still lives, and is the same as then. The silver and the gold
are His, and the cattle upon a thousand hills, and he ruleth all things
by the Word of His power. They that trust in him shall never be
confounded.
"Thou shalt not pervert the judgment of the stranger, nor of the
fatherless, nor take the widow's raiment to pledge. Why? Because they
have no earthly friend to redeem the latter or plead for the former.
Weak and unguarded, they are exposed to all these evils, but that He,
the Eternal, takes them under his own especial care; and instead of
compelling them to depend on the insecure tenure of man's compassion, or
even justice, institutes laws for their benefit, the disobedience of
which is sin against Himself."
Scattered through all the sacred volume are words which, equally with
those we have quoted, speak forth Jehovah's interest in the helpless.
"Leave thy fatherless children to me," he said, by his prophet Jeremiah,
at a time when misery, desolation, and destruction were falling on Judea
and her sons for their awful impiety. "Leave thy fatherless children, I
will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me." "A father of
the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy
habitation."
Oh, do we receive the full import of these soul-cheering words? Lone,
solitary one! who hidest in thy heart a grief which, untasted, cannot be
understood, there is a Being sitting on the circle of the heavens, who
knows every pang thou endurest. He formed thee susceptible of the love
which thou hast felt and enjoyed; Himself ordained the tie which bound
thee. He, better than any other, comprehends thy loss. Dost thou
doubt--study faithfully His word; obey his voice. Yield thy heart to Him
and trust Him implicitly. He will prove himself able to bless thee in
thine inmost soul. The avenues to that soul are all open to Him, and He
can cause such gentle, soothing influences to flow in upon thee as shall
make thee "Sing even as in the days of thy youth."
Fatherless child! whose heart fails thee when thou dost miss from every
familiar place the guide of thy youth, faint not nor be discouraged,
though the way is rough, and the voice that ever spoke tenderly to thee
is silent. Thou hast a father in heaven; and He who calls himself such
understands better than thou what is implied in that sacred name. Tell
Him thy woes and wants.
"Thou art as much His care, as if beside
Nor man nor angel lived in heaven or earth."
* * * * *
Original.
INFANTS TAUGHT TO PRAY.
Persons who have never investigated the subject cannot believe that
young children are capable of being taught to pray, intelligently. As
infants cannot be supposed to understand the essential nature and design
of prayer, we may profitably inquire, "Of what use can prayer be to a
young child?"
Miss H. More defines prayer to be "The application of want to Him who
alone can relieve it; the confession of sin to Him who alone can pardon
it; the urgency of poverty, the prostration of humility, the fervency of
penitence--the confidence of trust. It is the 'Lord save us, we perish,'
of drowning Peter--the cry of faith to the ear of mercy." Now, are not
children, for several of their first years, absolutely dependent upon
others for the supply of all their wants? And yet, though no beings are
so weak, so helpless, yet none are so eloquent in pleading or praying
for what they want as young children in distress, though they have not
yet acquired the language of speech, and simply because this language is
nature's voice.
How irresistible are the entreaties of an infant in sickness, pain, and
trouble. It will not be pacified or comforted by any one but its
mother--her bosom is its sanctuary--her voice its sweetest melody--her
arms its only refuge. What a preparation is this in the ordering of
Providence, and in direct reference to what is to succeed, evidently
with the design that when a child is of a suitable age, it may transfer
its highest love and confidence from its earthly parents to a heavenly
Father. At first the mother stands in the place of God to her child, and
is all the world to him. But if she be a praying mother, the child will
very early discover that, like himself, she too is a helpless,
dependent, needy creature, and he will learn to trust in that great
Being whom his mother adores.
Perhaps she has been in the habit, when her child was drawing its
nutriment from her breast, to feel more than at any other time her
responsibility to the little helpless being who is a part of herself,
and especially to "train it up in the way it should go." And she will
usually improve this opportunity to commune with her God, saying with
more solemn importunity, day by day, "How shall I order thee, child?"
She feels the need of more wisdom, for she now begins to realize that
her arms will not always encircle her child, and if they could, she
could not ward off the arrows of disease and death. She thinks too of
the period as near when it will be more out from under her scrutinizing
watch, and will be more exposed to temptations from without and from
within. Perhaps, too, she may die early, and then who will feel for her
child, who will train it, who will consecrate it to God as sedulously as
she hopes to do? O, if she could be certain of its eternal well-being.
She eagerly inquires, "Is there any way by which my child can be so
instructed, so consecrated, that I may be absolutely certain that I
shall meet him, a ransomed soul, and dwell with him forever among the
blessed in heaven?" "Yes, there is." I find in the unerring Scriptures
many precious examples of children who were thus early dedicated to God,
and were accepted and blessed of Him. She loves to remember those
mothers on the plains of Judea who brought their infants to the Savior
for his blessing. They were not discouraged, though the disciples, like
many of the present day, forbade them to come, saying, "Of what possible
use can it be to bring young children to the Savior?" But behold, the
Savior welcomes and blesses them. Children who have been thus blessed of
the Savior will not, cannot be lost. His promise is, "None shall pluck
them out of my father's hand;" and again, "I will keep that what is
committed to me till the final day."
With such Scripture promises and examples, this praying mother, hour by
hour, lifts her heart to God, and implores that the Savior would crown
with success her endeavors to obey his precepts, and, in doing so, to
accept her consecrated child. How sweet and gentle are her accents!
With a loud voice she puts up her petitions which, till now, under
similar circumstances, have not even been whispered aloud.
But her emotions have risen so high, that not only does her voice become
inarticulate, but her tears fall like April showers upon the face of
her, till now, unconscious child.
The child looks inquiringly. It now perceives that that countenance,
which has hitherto been lighted up only by smiles, and been radiant with
hope, at times is beclouded by fears. No wonder if this scene should
attract the attention of this infant listener. Perhaps it is overawed.
It rises up, it looks round to see if any one is present, with whom its
mother is holding converse. Seeing no one, it hides its little head in
the folds of its mother's dress, and is still.
What does all this do but to awaken, on the part of the mother, a still
deeper interest in the welfare of her sympathizing little one. She now
realizes as she never did before, what an influence she has in swaying
the mind and affections of her darling child, and her responsibility
seems to increase at every step. She presses her child more and more
fondly to her bosom. With daily and increasing faith, love and zeal, she
resorts to the throne of grace, and pleads for that wisdom she so
pre-eminently needs.
It cannot be but that her love to her child should be daily strengthened
by such communings with her own heart and her Savior, in sweet
fellowship with her little one, though so young as not fully to
comprehend all it sees and hears, yet it will remember and be
influenced, eternally, by what has been done and said in its presence.
This mother fully realizes that she is under the watchful eye of God,
her Maker and Redeemer--that the Holy Trinity--the mysterious "three in
one" have been present, more than spectators of what has transpired. For
she is sure that these aspirations after holiness for herself and for
her child are not earth-born--but emanations from the triune God.
It is natural to suppose that lasting impressions would be made upon the
heart of a child thus early taught to pray.
No wonder if this little child, ever after, should find a sacred
pleasure in visiting the place where prayer is wont to be made, which at
first was hallowed and sweetened by tender and endearing associations.
And we would here remark, that it is chiefly by the power of association
that young children can be supposed to be benefited by such teachings
and examples.
A striking incident occurred in my mother's nursery, not only
illustrative of the power of association, but showing how very tenacious
is the memory of young children.
My mother had a fit of sickness when my little brother was but seven
months old, and she was obliged to wean him at that early age.
He was always a feeble child and clung to our mother with almost a
death-grasp. The weaning of that child will never fade from my
recollection. In fact our mother used to say that that boy was never
weaned.