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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1892, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 








" Many a teacher," said an eminent divine, "has been per- 
fectly satisfied with teachership, perfectly content to furnish 
the materials and conditions of effective and conspicuous 
activity to other minds and to rest, himself, in obscurity 'as they 
went forth to prominence." Thus Socrates waited to speak 
through Plato. Thus Gamaliel invested himself in Paul. Even 
the Teacher of Teachers left to his disciples the promise of 
"greater works" than His. 

Such is the rule, not without pathos, of the true teacher's life. 
" Can it be," asked a gatherer of statistics, some months ago, 
"that President Tanner has never published any of his writings?'' 
Except upon requests of newspaper and magazine editors, he 
never had. 

Yet a man yearns for a monument of that sort. Step into a 
library, visit an unfrequented alcove, and listen to the plead- 
ing of the volumes. But their backs are turned toward the 
world, and the shyness is mutual. Neither the longing to be 
consulted by posterity, nor the loving anxiety to have another 
thus remembered, is sufficient to justify a book. 

Beneath the desire to honor a cherished memory and to 
make these sermons and addresses easy of access, is an 
earnest belief that they contain what will be of value to the 
future historian of American education/and that their publica- 
tion will renew and extend the quiet influence which Dr. 
Tanner's words have had upon certain lives. This belief has 
been strengthened by the expressions of many, here and there, 
who have heard him in the pulpit and have loved him in his 
life; even of some to whom, in their mental night at the Illinois 


Central Hospital for the Insane, "Chaplain" Tanner used to 
bring at least the light of a cloudy day; and of a large number 
of young men for whose Christian purity and strength he 
labored, first as "Professor," then as "President." 

All of the baccalaureates of the ten years of his presidency 
at Illinois College are published, together with other sermons 
and addresses, some from his earlier ministry, some from his 
later, one written even beneath the on-creeping shadow of his 
last illness. It is regretted that so much must remain in manu- 
script. Variety of topic has been regarded in putting forth 
these few productions from the many. Toward the end of the 
volume, is a thesaurus of selections from his still unpublished 
writings. No especial arrangement of them has been at- 
tempted; may they be found helpful and suggestive in leisure 

After all else was ready for the press, a sketch of " Private 
and Public Life" was prepared, though with some hesitation. 
No elaborate coloring has been sought. If we have kept in 
harmony with the modest nature of the man; if we have con- 
fined our own affectionate estimate to a true outline of his work; 
if we have brought others to a better knowledge of his genuine 
and lovable character, then we are content. 

The preface of an English book, published the other year, 
was simply a printed extract from the author's will, directing 
what disposition should be made of his literary works. If one 
could, in any way, reproduce those unwritten wills which lives 
attest, our only prefatory allusion to these sermons and 
addresses need have been the speaker's ruling purpose to be 
of service unto all whom his words should reach. 

Jacksonville, 111., November 2gth, 1892. 







Samson's Riddle. 

The Colleges of the Old West. 


Christian Energy. 


Character Moulded by Thought. 

The Coming Half-Century. 


Silent Building. 

BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS, 1889, - - - 14.7 
The College as an Investment. 


Moral Supremacy. 

Transformation of Character. 


Proverbs xi: 24. 

FAITH, .-.---. 208 

I Corinthians xiii: 13. 

" KEEP THIS MAN," - - - - 221 

I Kings xx : 39, 40. 



Galatians vi: 5. 


I Timothy iv: 16. 


Philippians iii: 13. 

REDEEMING THE TIME, - - - - -272 
Ephesians v: 15, 16. 


John ii: ib. 

SYMPATHY IN SORROW, - - - - - 295 
Address at the Funeral of James E. Tupper. 

A GREAT PHYSICIAN, - - - - 301 

Address at the Funeral of Dr. David Prince. 

IMMORTALITY, - - - - - - 3 10 

Job xiv: 14. 


A Practical Application of the Principle. 

CHURCH AND COLLEGE, - - - - - 335 
Their Relation of Mutual Benefit. 

VULCAN AND VENUS, - - - - - 346 

The Union of the Useful and the Beautiful. 

From an Ethical Point of View. 

EARLY MEMORIES, - - ... - - 387 
A Semi-Centennial Address. 

SELECTED THOUGHTS, - - - - - 401 
Extracts from Unpublished Writings. 

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Edward Allen Tanner was born in Waverly, 111., 
Nov. 29, 1837, having the distinction of being the 
first child who could claim nativity in the place. 
That father and mother, brothers and sisters should 
come from the hills of New England, and he alone 
have been denied the priyilege, was a grief to the 
boyish heart. Says he: "The first enigma of life to 
perplex my childish mind was the query, why did not 
Providence ordain that I should be born a little 
sooner, that my eyes should open to the light in 
Litchfield county, Conn., and not in Morgan county, ~ 
111.? That mystery, with raven wing and dismal 
croak, overshadowed boyhood." 

But later the tone changes and the notes grow 
triumphant "When one passes the statue of Doug- 
las on the shore of Lake Michigan, and reflects upon 
the state's vast material resources, so largely due to 
the little giant's wisdom and energy; or when one 
climbs the monument at Oak Ridge, and sits down, 
at the feet of the colossal figure of the Great Emanci-- 
pator, and reviews the past and forecasts the future*;-; 
or again, when one listens, and the autumn air- 
vibrates with midsummer lamentation of the nations, 
over the mighty warrior whom our own state sent to 
deliver the republic, and to win the admiration of. 




the* WoMfl-^wKo^who would blush for nativity in 

, . ... j'j'Yhbtfgh -westerA fet^rji, though the ancestors of 

* * d * * * * * ** J 4 

IT &**.* "TtL^^ b*iKsdd the sturdy New England 


blood that has been the sinew and the steadying 
nerve of western growth. Long years ago three 
brothers settled in the little town of Warren, Conn. 
Around one of these brothers, Ephraim, grew a 
family of eight children, one of whom afterward 
became the mother of Dr.J. M.Sturtevant, for thirty- 
two years president of Illinois College, and another, 
Joseph Allen, the father of the subject of this sketch. 

Joseph Tanner was a man revered by the people, 
trusted for his sincerity and even judgment, loved for 
the tenderness and sympathy of his broad nature- 
In 1814 he married Orra* Swift, a woman of strong 
sense, keen humor, and womanly spirit, and their 
home with its high Christian conversation was like 
the house of Obed-edom where the ark of God rested. 
Into this home with its atmosphere of love and 
devotion were born four children, two boys and two 
girls; the youngest son, Ephraim, dying in early 

Then came the call from the far west for the true 
men of New England, and Joseph Tanner and his 
wife recognized God's bidding; and His hand led 
them away from comfort and sacred association, 
through long journeying across dreary prairies unto 
a strange land. Who can tell of the mingled emo- 
tions of those brave pioneer hearts as at last, way- 
worn and weary, they stood upon that lonely spot in 
-central Illinois that was henceforth to be their home? 
'"The Range" was all there was then of the village 
known as Waverly a log house of three or four 


rooms, a half dozen ruder cabins, scattered near, a 
a mill at one side that was all. Here and there in 
the distance were bits of timber, but for the most 
part as far as eye could reach only prairie, prairie, 
without sound to disturb the stillness unless it was 
the hoarse growl of the prairie wolves. Humble 
though it was, that log house was known for the 
God-like spirit that reigned there, and as one by one 
the true hearted sons and daughters of Connecticut 
gathered in the little settlement, that home became 
to them a hav.en of rest and a stronghold of courage . 

Two years after the coming of the family to Illi- 
nois the youngest child, Edward, was born. There 
was no disloyalty to her other children, if the 
mother's ringers lingered a little more lovingly over 
the home-spun garments of this child, or if there 
crept into the song she sung an added tenderness, as 
holding her boy close she looked, not on the hills 
and mountain streams of her old loved home, but on 
the billowy motion of the long grass on the un- 
bounded prairie. 

Perhaps it was the impress of those early sur- 
roundings, that all through mature years caused the 
heart to stir whenever the man watched the waves 
of the wind-swept grass. It never failed to call 
forth shadowy recollections loved forms from the 
past and youth's hallowed associations. It always 
seemed a throb of nature answering to the pulsa- 
tion of the mighty, bearing suggestions, to the 
human, of green fields somewhere, yonder, fanned 
by the wings of the Celestial. 

When six months old the boy was left fatherless. 
In his strong manhood Deacon Tanner was sud- 
denly stricken. There was a struggle. Life was 


sweet; visions of the future of the new country, 
around which his hopes had centered, arose before 
him and his wife and baby boy what of them? 
But faith cried at last triumphant, "Though he slay 
me yet will I trust in him." In the father's house,, 
before the \birth of the boy, the Congregational 
church of Waverly had been established. Thus the. 
son writes, at the semi-centennial of the church, of 
that early home and the little band that worshiped 
there. . * * * 

"Fifty years have effaced every trace of. my 
father's old house, in which the church was formed. 
I deem it no small honor, that the hearth-stone in 
my father's cabin was the corner-stone of the Con- 
gregational church of 'Waverly. The records are 
not at hand, but unless memory is treacherous, there 
were eight charter members, and every one of the 
eight was a relative, either by blood, or by marriage. 
You will, therefore, pardon the family nature of this 
communication, and make due allowance for pos- 
sible errors. Had Dr. Sturtevant survived to be 
present on Tuesday, he could have given a vivid 
picture of that scene at 'The Range,' fifty years 
ago. It was before I was born, and my father, dy- 
ing in my infancy, is only a hallowed name, except 
that, now and then, when going to the heavenly 
Father with cares and troubles, I have seemed to 
feel the nearness of an earthly father, who was long- 
ing to break the silence of the voiceless land, with 
words of love and cheer for the child of his old age.. 

The pressure of that dying mother's hand upon 
the head and those words of earnest prayer when 
the death damp was gathering, were often a check 
on boyish folly and wickedness; and to this day 


they become a sweet benediction, whenever the 
heart quickens with a desire for Christ-likeness. 

There was Aunt Lucy, of whose face and form 
memory gives no picture. But she was the literary 
member of the group, and I recollect being shown 
some of her papers, when a child, and wondering 
whether I could ever learn to write such composi- 

I think that my brother's wife, sister Lucy, Platt 
Carter's sister Lucy, entered into covenant there 
before God, fifty years ago. She took the mother- 
less boy home, and from that day of adoption 
treated him as if he were her own child. 

June 1 5th, 1836, a young man wrote his name be- 
neath that of Deacon Tanner, and began his training 
in the service of the church the Theodore Curtiss, 
who had been a deacon so long, and from whose 
hands only, should I be willing to receive the bread 
and the wine, June 1 5th, 1886. 

There is another signature, that of a beloved 
sister, who has been lingering for months on the 
border line which separates the two worlds, but 
who, through the unwearied attention of a faithful 
physician, through the loving care of many friends, 
through the sleepless devotion of her husband by 
day and by night, and through God's over-ruling 
providence, has been spared to complete the half 

There was that younger sister, the flower of the 
family, of whom I can recall a single vanishing 
vision of beauty. 

The last of the group became her husband. He 
was older, but it was a happy marriage. And, 
though she was taken hence more than forty years 


ago, he has remained faithful to her memory. He 
has attained to four-score, a most lovable old man. 
It was my privilege, only the other day, to conduct 
worship, at the family altar which he and that sister 
set up in the long ago. Said he to another after- 
ward: ' I grow more and more homesick for the 
presence of my wife in heaven.' 

So much for the church of 1836. You, brother 
Hobbs, may read this in public, and then correct 
any mistakes into which I may have fallen concern- 
ing the charter members. You will also tell the 
story of the intervening half century. Would that I 
could be there, to listen to your mention of many 
whom I have most highly esteemed. 

Pardon a word for 1886, a word concerning my 
father's life-long friend, 'Uncle Homer Curtiss.' It 
was kindly ordered that I should be at Waverly, 
the night before he died, and that I should receive 
from him the last token of recognition given to any 
one on earth. Two or three of us were standing by 
the bedside. The son who has kept the fifth com- 
mandment, as has no other of all my acquaintance, 
could get no response. Said he: 'It is too late.' I 
tried at first, in vain; but, finally, the weary spirit 
seemed to wing its way back. I mentioned my name 
and asked if he knew me. There was an attempt to 
say yes, with a clasp of the hand. I repeated a few 
words of the 23d Psalm, and asked whether they 
were still sweet? Another attempt to say yes, and 
another clasp of the hand. Said I: 'Uncle Homer, 
will you take a message of love over to your old 
friend, my father, on the other side?' No voice, 
but a gentle pressure of the hand, and the weary 


spirit fluttered across the line of communication be- 
tween the audible and the inaudible. 

It was the ist of May. That is usually a gala day. 
I never before entered a graveyard, on that day; 
but I spent an hour last May Day alone, in your 

There was something in the sweeping of the wind 
through the grass which recalled the pathos of 
Tennyson's ' May Queen.' I read many of the half- 
forgotten names, so familiar in boyhood. I lingered 
around the monuments of Sackett and Brown, and 
the tablet of Salter; but I found myself drawn back, 
time and again, to two mounds without monument 
or name, the one mound low and matted over with 
flowering myrtle, the other heaped high with yellow 
clay. And I sat down there awhile, with no one near 
but God, and in silent worship, gathered the flower- 
ing myrtle from my father's grave and scattered it 
reverently upon the grave of 'Uncle Homer.' 

And the closing words of the ' May Queen,' with- 
out regard to age, or sex, or circumstances, were as 
a hymn to the heart. 

' Forever and forever with these just souls and true, 

And what is life that we should moan, why make we such 


Forever and forever, all in a blessed home, 
And there to wait a little while, till you and others come. 
To. lie within the light of God, as we lie together at last, 
And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at 


During the few years that passed before she, at 
the age of fifty-two, was called away, the mother 
bravely tried to fill the father's place. She was one 
of a little band of women who used to meet to pray 
together for their children, and when she died she 


left her child to their care and prayers. To the 
power of his mother's- petitions and her dying appeal 
for him the man of middle age bears witness. "Out 
of the scenes of earliest boyhood, rises one recol- 
lection, brighter and holier than any other. It is 
that of a mother's last prayer. It was not so much 
anxious as earnest and confident. The things that 
had been 'kept and pondered in the heart' found 
voice, a voice borne on, by white wings, over years 
of carelessness, of folly, and of great sinfulness, 
and here, this morning, above the altar of God, 
dwelling not upon wealth and honor, but craving 
and expecting, for the speaker, a closer grapple with 
temptation, a gradual subjugation of the lower 
nature, more love for men, more complete Christ- 
likeness. Thus noiselessly but steadily does the 
mother's ideal shape the future of the child." 

An orphan at six, a new country, a veiled future 
such was the vista that opened before the lonely 
boy as he turned away from the lonely grave, but 
the God of his fathers never forsook him. Tenderly 
He led the boy up to manhood, sometimes by 
thorny paths, but always leading, until there was 
another grave and father and mother and son were 
together again, all parting past. 

The years following his mother's death, when he 
lived during the winter schooling with his sister, 
and in the summer helped in simple tasks on the 
farm of his brother Elisha, gave tone to all his after 
life. The lonely struggle of the sensitive heart, the 
yearning for the father and mother love, that the 
tenderness and kindness of the brother and sister 
could not quite satisfy, called forth that strong 


element of sympathy, so marked a characteristic of 
his manhood. 

As a child he was thoughtful, studious, shrinking, 
yet fond of boyish sports, and possessed of a strong- 
vein of humor which often found outlet and which 
one little incident will serve to illustrate. One 
night, when five or six years old, his nephew of 
about his own age was with him. For two hours 
they had been telling each other stories, till finally 
the voices from the trundle-bed grew drowsy and 
Edward said: " Come on, Allan, let's say our prayers 
and go to sleep." "Oh," replied the other, "I've 
said mine long ago." "Better say them again," was 
the response, "God's forgot 'em by this time." 

In 1849 a larger world opened before him. With 
his brother he went to Springfield, but before two 
years had passed his heart was again torn, for the 
much-loved, big-hearted brother moved to Oregon 
leaving the boy once more upon the border of the 
untried. With aching, homesick heart the thirteen- 
year-old boy came to Jacksonville to enter the pre- 
paratory department of Illinois College. For six 
years, until his graduation in '57, he made his home 
with the family of his cousin, President Sturtevant, 
spending his vacations with his sister in Waverly 
and his brother-in-law in Springfield. He threw him- 
self heartily into college life but his reserved, timid 
nature made him shrink from general society, and 
during these years he gave full play to his natural 
taste for reading, building a broad literary foundation 
for the work of his after life. 

Meanwhile his religious life was quietly devel- 
oping. Of his own conversion he says: "I can 
point to no sud.den transition from darkness to 


marvelous light. When asked for my spiritual 
birthday I cannot give it. The whole subject is in- 
volved in confusion. And the best that I can say 
for myself is, that I hope that when the books are 
opened there, and the recording angel gets down to 
my name, he will assure me that there can be no 
mistake about it, that I am certainly my Father's 

There was a period of doubt when those vexed 
questions concerning God and the Bible that have 
been a stumbling-block to hundreds of others, con- 
fronted him. But year by year these shadows 
disappeared until in his maturity faith grew grandly 
simple. It was this experience in his own life that, 
ever after, gave him sympathy with those likewise 
troubled. He seldom argued on such questions. If 
they came from egotism he never noticed them. 
If they were the burdens of a sincere soul he would 
throw what light he could upon dark places, then 
he was wont to say, "My friend, let these things 
which you cannot understand rest awhile; let the 
rest of the Bible go, take the Gospel of John and 
follow your Master as you see Him there, and after 
awhile these other things will have taken care of 
themselves." The Gospel of John is referred to as 
is no other book of the Bible, in his sermons. It 
was the exposition, the sum substance of all he 
longed for in his own life. 

The four years after graduation pass by in pano- 
ramic swiftness. There was one year spent near his 
old home at Mud Prairie and Farmingdale, teaching 
for twenty-five dollars per month, "boarding around." 
Then followed a year as assistant in the seminary at 
Waverly, another as principal; then one in the pub- 


lie schools of Jacksonville, until the call came to the 
Latin professorship in the Pacific University at 
Forest Grove, Oregon. In the meantime, from the 
academy in Jacksonville to her Waverly home, a 
young maiden had returned, full of ambitious hopes, 
and it came to pass that in advanced studies the 
seminary teacher became the young girl's tutor, and 
over the intricacies of Latin and Greek, instructor 
and pupil found themselves confronting questions 
more intricate still deep as life itself. 

She was the daughter of a physician who, for the 
love he had borne the father, ever felt for the son a 
tender interest, but "when there came over the 
youth that human longing which none escape, and 
he went to the old doctor about it, how nervously 
the young man watched the latter break sticks over 
the blade of his pen-knife, till that awful silence was 
broken by a delightful little speech about ' the hand 
of Divine Providence ' in the affair in question." 

The next year the pupil became the principal's 
assistant in the seminary, and before long it became 
known that the relationship would never be broken, 
that all through life the woman would give herself 
to the work of the man, cheering his pathway, shar- 
ing his burdens. Those were bright days, golden 
days of a romance that did not end, when one sum- 
mer day, in 1861, amid the blooming of June roses, 
Edward Allen Tanner and Marion Brown became 
husband and wife. A separation from home, friends, 
and a long ocean voyage followed; then a sojourn 
of four years in Oregon years of pecuniary strug- 
gle, years full of experience, years of joy inter- 
mingled with sadness, for death cast its shadow and 
their first born, a promising boy and the pride of 


their hearts, was suddenly taken. They laid him 
away to rest on the hillside, where Mt. Hood in 
white-crowned grandeur cast her stately shadows. 

Those were primitive days. No costly marbles 
adorned that quiet city of the dead, but upon one 
little grave was a wooden cross with name and 
date, and the story the passer-by read between 
letters carved by a father's sorrowing hand was 
eloquent with love. The child that slept there held 
ever a sacred place in the father's heart. Years 
after, he writes to his wife from the East, "These 
Massachusetts hills keep recalling the hills of 
Oregon, and I find myself thinking very often of 
the face of the little boy whom we buried out 
yonder. His face comes back to me quite distinct- 
ly, just as it looked when I drew him around in 
the yard, the afternoon before he died. With what 
strange tenderness the heart reaches out into the 

While engaged in his work as professor, the study 
of theology was quietly carried on alone, until the 
course was finished and a license to preach was 
granted. At the close of the war the young man 
was tendered the professorship of Latin in his alma 
mater. The call was accepted, and with wife and 
baby daughter he journeyed back to Illinois, to take 
up his life work in the college. For seventeen years 
he held the chair of Latin. In some respects it was 
the most care-free period of his life. He was always 
busy. In addition to his work in the college, he 
carried, for fourteen years, until he was called to the 
presidency, that of the chaplaincy of the Hospital 
for the Insane, carefully preparing one sermon each 
week. Yet, when shouldering the responsibilities of 


a college executive, he used to speak of these days 
as the play days of his life. 

The strong domestic tastes, which in his young 
orphan life had known no outlet, found full sweep 
in his own home. He was always the near com- 
panion of his children, adapting himself to them, in- 
teresting himself in whatever, engaged them, sympa- 
thizing with them in their little troubles. During 
the long summer vacations, when health made it 
necessary for him to resort to camp life on the 
shores of Lake Superior and in the regions of the 
trout streams, he writes letters to them, charming in 
their descriptions of camp life, fresh with the touch 
of nature, and to be remembered for the serious 
thoughts interwoven. In one letter, full of humor, 
he says, " I have thought very often, this Sunday 
morning, about my boy being by and by a fisher for 
trout, and then, a few years later, a fisher for men." 
And again he writes: "I don't like this being so 
cut off from you, but I think that our Father will 
take care of us all. I want you to love Him and 
serve Him. This trust in His watchful love, when I 
am away from you, is very precious to me. Noth- 
ing else \vould make me so happy as to know that 
you were trying to please Him day after day. I 
want you to be as dear to Him as you are to me; 
and you three that are oldest are old enough to do 
His will in children's ways, in little things, if not in 
big things. But I would not lecture you too long; 
I would have you look on this being a Christian, not 
as a doleful subject, but as something bright and 

Like sunbeams playing over the receding path of 
childhood are the bright memories of days often 


spent in the woods, when the father, throwing aside 
work, gave himself to the pleasure of the hour, wan- 
dering with his children among trees and through 
thickets, as happy and care free as they. 

Gradually the flock outgrew the little house on 
Grove street, and a new home was built on College 
Hill. In its care the owner enlisted his children's 
interest. Often in the desire to help, their willing 
but blundering ringers doubled the work; but their 
efforts were lovingly commended and, without their 
knowledge if possible, the mistakes patiently reme- 
died. Yet there was a something that forbade un- 
due familiarity. His fine control over a tempera- 
ment naturally impetuous and high strung com- 
manded respect. He was always just, always firm. 
Punishment with him was rare, but when it came his 
authority was not questioned. Once there was an 
act of subterfuge and it proved the first and only at- 
tempt. For some misdemeanor two of the children 
had been sent to the study while the father made 
his way to the inevitable peach tree. - It occurred to 
them that prayer would be the most effective and 
the only thing that might touch him and avert the 
coming event. At once they got down upon their 
knees. As they heard his step upon the stair their 
childish hearts beat faster, but they prayed on. 
With face still pale, but with the corners of his 
mouth twitching, he waited upon the threshold for 
awhile, then quietly suggested that the praying be 
done a little later on. 

As the children grew older the relationship be- 
came even closer and more confidential. He was 
the elder brother also. To one of them, whose 
heart was sore under a first and genuine attack of 


homesickness, he thus sympathetically writes: " I 
remember, as if it were only yesterday, how distress- 
ingly homesick I was the first time I went to stay 
among strangers. I have wished a hundred times 
that I could spirit you back to the old house, and 
shield you from all cares and perplexities. It has 
been a revelation of what God means when He says, 
' As a father pitieth his children, so the Lord piti- 
eth those that fear Him.' I have caught myself 
saying, in the midst of the anxieties which multiply 
around these later years, ' Can it be that you really 
feel toward me as I do toward my heavy-hearted 
child?' And then I turn things around the other 
way. I am sure that these experiences will be good 
for you, and that you will see it all by and by. And 
so I am made more confident that I have God's sym- 
pathy in disagreeables which must be somehow best 
for me. Comfort yourself, then, with the thought 
that you are confirming your old father's faith. 
Cling to Him that is sympathetic and strong. I 
have got a great deal of comfort, the last few days, 
out of the words, ' I am with you always ' not 
sometimes, my child, but ' always.' " 

Such a life glows with inspiration. If in the 
hearts of wife and children faith has been drawn 
heavenward, by invisible cords, until they have 
gained some faint conception of a Heavenly Fa- 
ther's sheltering, loving kindness, it is by beautiful 
interpretation through an earthly father, who, great 
in little things, put aside self, and with a patient, 
tender, sympathetic care, watched over those he 

Edward Tanner was a lover of nature in all her 
phases. The mountains and the ocean waves, the 


sky, the birds, the trees, whatever it might be, 
gave him some fresh thought that sooner or later 
found voice. How often, during the long summer 
evenings, he would sit on the veranda, in the grow- 
ing twilight, with head thrown back, looking off at 
rare bits of scenery visible, and then up at the great 
forest trees he loved so well, his children by adop- 
tion, and through their foliage up to the stars 
beyond, till those seeing him thus, felt it almost 
desecration to speak lest words might mar the 
vibratory wave between the soul of the finite 
and the soul of the infinite. And then, they, 
seeing in the daily walk and life, growing patience 
and sweetness of character, knew these silent 
times with nature were to him mounts of trans- 
figuration. In the hurried movement along life's 
pathway he was never too busy to pause and listen 
for the messages of these voiceless agencies. No 
film of sordid worldliness dimmed spiritual vision. 
Nature always won from him a tender reverence. 
For him she never lost her heavenly mission, never 
failed to beckon upward. Once from the shores of 
the northern lakes he writes to his wife, "I am enjoy- 
ing the solitude, listening to the waves beat on the 
shore, writing some, reading some, day-dreaming and 
thinking some. How the questions reach out into 
the far away, and are lost in the haze, like the 
mountains across the water forty miles yonder. 
One seems so insignificant, until he remembers that 
he is Our Father's child. I have been trying to 
clasp that idea round, as I have walked along the 
shore today, but the idea is too big for little me, 
yet I believe." A little later he writes again: * * 
"All things considered I've had the pleasantest 


season I ever spent here. There have not been 
many thrilling adventures, still I have had more 
even enjoyment, and have recruited as rapidly as 
ever. For all of which thanks to Our Father ! I 
want to use this new strength for Him, and you, and 
the children. I don't read my Bible much, I don't 
,look at your picture and the children's faces very 
much, but, as I go through the woods alone, I talk 
to Him a great deal and think of you all. He seems 
near and you safe. I could not be happy by myself, 
all alone. I went to church this morning, but there 
was not half so much worship there for me, as I've 
enjoyed during this week in the forest." 

A keen judge of human nature, he was himself as 
simple as a child. When praise came to him it was 
always accepted with pleased surprise. Two or 
three days before his death he was told that one who 
loved him had been praying for him. The thought 
was sweet. "Perhaps," said he, "'tis a weakness in 
my nature, but I do like to be liked." He was one 
of the truest of friends. If one he loved ever proved', 
disloyal he kept the hurt hid within his own soul,, 
and rose manfully above petty retaliation. Perhaps; 
in the union of a deep, earnest sincerity and a loving 
sympathy the greatest power of the man lay. If 
in the work of his chaplaincy he was successful it 
was largely because of a tact which was the out- 
growth of fine sympathy. If he brought the lives 
of young men close to his own it was because they 
felt his own life pulse to the warm beat of their own 
youth. If, by word or prayer, he brought comfort, 
into the house of mourning, it was because he carried' 
the sorrow of that household on his heart. How the : 
burdens of others wore upon his own strength, how- 


they became a part of long sleepless nights, only his 
family know. 

In the summer of 1880 the news reached him from 
Oregon, that his only brother had been drowned 
while crossing the river on his way to church. The 
shock was great. There were no words spoken. 
The living brother, very quietly, took up his work 
and went about his accustomed tasks. But on his 
writing table, after that, the pictured face of the 
dead always stood, as if the pen carrying its mes- 
sages to other souls, gathered inspiration there. To 
the one left the other never seemed far away. To 
him the waves of the darkly rolling river brought no 
dread, for the light from the other side shone across. 

In the spring of 1882 the College called him to 
the presidency. With characteristic self-forgetful- 
ness, he did not ask whether the position would 
honor him, but whether he could honor the position, 
whether he were qualified to take the institution 
where it was and raise it to a higher plane. There 
were moments of prophecy flash visions of the 
future and his part in that future but God kept 
back, just within the veil, full knowledge of the 
weary struggle toward the realization, of contact 
with a rude world, of the trial for mastery of the 
will over bodily weakness lest the soul, courageous 
though it was, should grow faint with heaviness of 
anticipation. After the determination was taken he 
never wavered. Into the work he threw tremendous 
nervous energy. It cost him much the sacrifice of 
literary work to college minutiae, the wear and tear 
upon a sensitive nature of financial solicitation, the 
greater separation from home life but his feelings 
were not the question, duty was plain. During a 


trying business trip to New York for the purpose of 
increasing endowment funds, he writes home: "I 
sit here, looking out upon the rattle and rush and 
glare of Broadway and want the quiet and dear 
faces in the humble house .on College Hill. I grow 
heavy-hearted as I think of the months and years of 
separation and broken relation, which must be, till 
this thing is accomplished. But, if it be God's will, 

He was persistent in what he undertook. If plans 
failed in one direction with fertile resource he turned 
effort into another channel. The college situation 
was peculiar. Disappointments were often inev- 
itable. They wore upon him, but day by clay it 
became evident to those in his home that under the 
discipline, character was growing in symmetry and 

On the twenty-fifth anniversary of his marriage 
business again compels him to be absent from home, 
but a letter, whose closing words reach into the 
future, finds its way back to his wife. * * * * 
"How then about the golden? Shall we trudge on 
together till we reach it here? Amen! if it be His 
will. But, really, I'd rather go before the year 1911. 
I've seen so many old men linger on, to be a burden 
to others and to public enterprises, that I'd prefer to 
have the days 'shortened.' How much more de- 
sirable it is to fall in one's prime. But it is not best 
to bother our heads about that. There is plenty of 
good work to do to-day, and we can safely leave that 
to-morrow to Him who has led us and blessed us 
thus far. Let the prayer of the silver wedding 
night be: 'Lord, we two would be together, June 
27, 1911, either here, or yonder.' " 


Those uttered thoughts have, in part, been an- 
swered. His work is finished. The soul was too 
intense for the body. The sensitive, nervous or- 
ganism could not longer stand the strain. In the 
the spring of '91 there was a break-down. But the 
tenderness and strong support of trustees, the kind- 
ness of faculty, the love of the College boys, shown 
in delicate and sympathetic ways, and the watch- 
fulness of friends, seemed to call him back to life. 
The trustees, with the command that he should rest 
and not return until fully recovered, sent him away. 
As summer wore on and strength came, the old 
enthusiasm returned. In the fall, against expostu- 
lation, he took up his work. College prospects were 
bright and he was full of zeal, but it was too soon. 
In December he began to suffer with violent pains 
in the head, but he kept on with his work, and 
nerving himself for the effort, delivered, just before 
Christmas, a promised lecture, in Springfield. After 
that, though keenly suffering, college matters were 
attended to, one chapel lecture delivered and an- 
other written. Then the strong will yielded and the 
disease triumphed that a few weeks later, on the 
eighth of February, 1892, brought to a close his life, 
at the age of fifty-four. 

Even after he was confined to his bed, he planned 
for the College. Finally his physician told him he 
would have to stop and rest again, that he must not 
think of his work in the College, or of the boys. 
"Doctor," replied he, "you might as well ask me to 
take out my heart." Through all his sickness he 
never complained. His thought was still for others. 
When friends sent delicacies to tempt his appetite, 
in a way that would cause a choking of the throat to 


those about him, he would request that they be given 
to this or that one of the household. There was 
something pathetic in his longing to have his family 
around him. As never before he seemed to yearn 
for affectionate demonstration. Said he: "These 
have been happy days, they have been sober days, 
but they have been happy days, we have all been to- 
gether." "Together?" yes, loving soul, a few 
short days, then but faith strains the ear and the 
notes she hears bear no tremulo tone, for they are 
the echoes of an immortal song from the other 
shore, together evermore. 

One day, early in the week before he died, there 
was a change for the worse. Toward morning, the 
following day, he spoke, to his elder son, his last 
words concerning the College. As his wife and one 
of his daughters entered the room he lovingly 
greeted them. "I am afraid," he said, "I am wear- 
ing you all out." To the question whether his head 
pained him, he answered: "Yes, I'm full of pain, but 
full of a sweet content," and then, weary with the 
effort of talking, lay quite still. There was not a 
sound in the room. Presently his eyes opened. For 
a little while he quietly watched wife and son, who, 
thinking him asleep, were taking needed rest, then 
for perhaps an hour gazed toward the ceiling with a 
calm, far-away look on his face, as though thought 
were reaching out into the invisible, and the Angel 
of Peace were ministering there. Then sleep came. 

Afterward, there were frequent periods of con- 
sciousness, and he seemed to rally, but it was the 
last flicker of the flame before going out. 

About noon, on Saturday, there was a sudden 
change with rapid failure, and wife and children, 


looking into the faces of those, who while minister- 
ing to the body, had been as brothers to the heart, 
knew all hope was gone. Long after physicians 
thought the end must come he lingered on, with 
that tenacity so characteristic of his life. Sabbath 
morning came. Church bells rang out upon the air, 
and their echoes died away. Evening bells called 
to worship, and yet he lingered on even till the 
break of day. Then, at last, there was a long breath 
an impressive closing of the eyelids, and the 
spirit that had so longed for "eternal rest," was with 

The early morning light coming in through an 
eastern window fell reverently over the still figure 
the night shadows had passed away, and the Eternal 
Morn had dawned. 

7p 7|> Vp 7$ Tfi 7ft 

In the south wall of the college chapel there is 
imbedded a marble slab, upon which, in plain raised 
letters, are the words, " Edward Allen Tanner, D. D.; 
Student, Professor, President." These words make 
over to Illinois College thirty-three of the fifty-four 
years of his life. They speak of a manhood chiseled 
fine by mastery of self and devotion to a cause. 

For six years Edward Tanner was a student at the 
academy and at Illinois College, but he was a 
student also to the day of his death. He treasured 
opportunity. In the class-room were developed his 
habits of pains-taking research. Especially did he 
find delight in a finished translation from the clas- 
sics. He was a thoughtful reader and few young 
men would follow patiently through the volumes 
which have been kept from his college days, and 


whose pages show the pencilings of appreciation. 
Sentiments of high morality met a quick response 
from his sensitive soul, and one is not surprised to 
read these words of a college class-male's: "I never 
knew a boy so pure in heart. During all my asso- 
ciations with him in hours of study, recreation and 
social intercourse, I never heard him give expres- 
sion to a foul thought or utterance to an unclean 
word." Free from grossness to a strange degree, so 
common is it among young men, his scholarly taste 
was choice. Always a hard worker, a double worker 
often, he had no time to pile on the fuel, but he 
despised soft coal, his books were invariably anthra- 
cite; they left no soot and the fire never went out, 
although he did not try to have the world see any 

He felt the warmth from live thoughts whether in 
poetry, history, essay or philosophy. Biography 
was especially dear to him. He sought what was 
real in personal life. He loved to linger there. His 
own thoughts he did not unfold readily. Students 
of his day testify that when he was induced to read 
an essay or to take part in a debate he always "had 
something to say;" but when he did not feel that he 
had that "something," nothing could move his pen 
or open his mouth. It was this shrinking from 
rhetorical work which cost him first honors in his 
class, and he never overcame the diffidence although 
there was a constant struggle. He never spoke in 
public without a heavy sinking of the heart. The 
determination to read theology came after he had 
been teaching for several years, but he "didn't think 
he should ever preach" He wanted the knowledge 
to help him in his class-room, so he studied by him- 


self and received a license in a little church out in 
Salem, Oregon, eight years after graduation; and 
by his own choice was ordained later not in Jackson- 
ville, but at the quiet country church on Joy Prairie. 

From such humble aspirations come these ser- 
mons and addresses. A few of the many which 
President Tanner wrote are here to speak for them- 
selves. The writers of this sketch do not feel that 
they need to praise or to defend them. All which 
will be done is to mention the method of their pre- 
paration and the known sincerity which lay beneath 

Whatever power President Tanner had as a writer 
came from his constant and conscientious prepara- 
tion. Words and sentences never lay piled about 
him, ready for use. He had what De Quincey wit- 
tily calls " a distinguished talent for silence." Often 
did he sit in his study chair by the hour seeking a 
javelin phrase for thought, even though he never 
planned to send it forth but once and then from a 
lowly pulpit. Is one surprised to read in a letter 
from a young man who heard him often and was 
writing of his sermons, years afterward, "somehow 
they always stuck." 

In the pulpits of the town and at the country 
churches, before the marriage altar and beside the 
coffin, his figure was familiar. For fourteen years, 
while a professor, he also was chaplain of the Cen- 
tral Hospital for the Insane, and during the ten 
years of his presidency, he spoke in a helpful, stimu- 
lating fashion to the students of the college every 
Sunday afternoon. Whatever the place, or whatever 
the occasion, there was always the same strict prepa- 
ration. Perhaps the most touching and thoughtful 



funeral address he ever made was uttered as he 
stood upon the dirt floor of a workman's cabin, com- 
forting three or four simple souls. At the insane 
hospital many a thought which he had polished 
smooth enough to glide even into the troubled 
brain, opened a rift for rays of light to break up the 
inner gloom. That was reward abundant. Chapel 
lectures were something more than familiar talks. 
They were earnest, but they were also finished, and 
the addresses prepared for some two hundred stu- 
dents needed no revision or addition when he took 
them, as he did, right into the largest pulpits of the 
land, often to appear again in the " great dailies." 
Such work had its reward. It gained recognition 
from the churches. Better still, it told in the man. 
He not only learned how to hold patiently the dark 
lantern of study, but there came to him more and 
more the flash lights of thought. The compilers of 
this book, as they have read the sermons written all 
along the line of these thirty years have been im- 
pressed with their steady rise both in crystalline 
beauty and in sustained strength. To the younger 
reader of only ordinary abilities they bring a lesson 
and a quiet inspiration. Nature is truly great out of 
such materials to make such men. 

The thoroughness of the writer was the thorough- 
ness of the man. Even his penmanship gained in 
grace; much more his character. He was genuine. 
Those who knew him best in the daily common- 
places realized that his whole life was in harmony 
with what he preached. He never had a hearer 
whom he need hesitate to face squarely when utter- 
ing the most searching truths of practical Christian- 
ity. It was in part this consciousness of moral rec- 


titude which gave him his power in the pulpit 
Willing to have his life freely " read of all men," he 
could read his own sermons freely. He seldom 
spoke without notes, but he always spoke eye to 

The sympathy of his words as well as of his man- 
ner was intense. He never uttered platitudes. He 
never used a quotation simply because it had a 
"literary sound." He loved his books, but he did 
not despise the handiwork of men. He would leave 
"machine poetry" quickly for the "poetry in 
machines." The exegesis of nature was also a con- 
stant delight; but especially did he search the inner 
experiences now over the cobble-stones of common 
pursuits and disappointments, and now upon medita- 
tion's pillow, with such aspirations as "ladder" choice 
souls to heaven. In his earlier preaching he speaks 
of the difficulties encountered as a minister; in his 
later preaching he speaks of the difficulties encount- 
ered as a man. As to his own religious thought, he 
grew more and more firm, but he could always honor 
those who differed from him. Said he " I believe in 
a religion of points rather than one of pulp;" but 
while he stuck to his own views gratefully as to 
helpful friends, he did not place them above those 
of any other conscientious thinker. He respected 
the minds of men, but he had often found that when 
he could not enter them from his own, the heart 
paths were still open. He always succeeded in get- 
ting into touch with those in trouble before he spoke 
to them. Some wondered how he gained such a 
hold upon the insane. They should have seen him 
as he used to sit of an evening upon his porch and 
look out through the trees which for that purpose he 


kept .trimmed so high, toward the Asylum two miles 
away, while his soul went out to those sorrowing 
there. "It is very quiet and yet what unrest," he 
would say softly, and then try to frame his words to 
carry that quiet of nature and nature's God to the 
troubled minds and hearts. In his college talks he was 
thoroughly in sympathy with the students. He felt 
for them in their spiritual and practical difficulties 
alike. He had come that way himself. Said he 
with some indignation once, " Let not those whose 
conformity to orthodox doctrines never required of 
them a day of patient toil, never cost them a night 
of feverish anxiety, pass sentence of condemnation 
on those to whom it is the conflict of weeks and 
months and years to find in Jesus the Divine Savior of 
the World." It was his joy to take the young man, 
sinking into doubts, and lead him to simplest gospel 
truth. "Don't try to steal a march upon fame," he 
would tell those who sacrificed the Bible for other 
books. "Make politics and social science your great 
study and read your Bible just enough for rhetorical 
purposes, if you would seek an early notoriety. But 
reverse all of this if you are willing, noiselessly, 
patiently and surely to develop a character that 
shall give you Christ's love for eternity." His 
preaching to the students was wholesome, fatherly, 
sometimes very plain and always practical. So it 
was in every pulpit, and those who heard him often 
will understand this utterance of his heart. "I 
would seek to fathom the billows that roll over the 
souls of men and women here and now. I want to get 
as near as I can to the coasts of the land where you 
live. My heart is with you, I want to reach you." 
Said a student of a few years ago, on leaving a life 


of partial dissipation for Christian manhood: "I 
had succeeded in shaking off all other restraints, but 
I could never get away from Dr. Tanner's prayers." 
His spirit was truly devotional. Yet he seldom led 
even in prayer without carefully thinking out its 
form. As he strove to get into the hearts of men, so 
he sought to reach the very heart of God, and its 
throbbings would at times seem to touch the sup- 
pliant's very lips. He never "got away from" his 
own prayers. In them the preacher lived. 

In the class, Professor Tanner was quietly enthusi- 
astic. He required the students to work, but he was 
willing to work first. He had a genuine fondness 
for Latin which he taught in Pacific University, 
Oregon, from 1861 to 1865, and at his alma mater 
from 1865 to 1882. His knowledge of the lan- 
guage was minute and complete, and he had the 
gift of imparting it. At Illinois College he was 
also the instructor in rhetoric, and by his un- 
sparing criticisms and by his own careful example 
he rescued many a promising writer from the danger 
of a slovenly style. But it was when he entered the 
field of mental and moral science that he found 
instruction most congenial. Here he conducted the 
class-room work, while one whom he loved both as 
physician and a friend, Dr. Hiram K. Jones, the 
Platonist of the Concord School, delivered weekly 
lectures. Teacher and learner alike, President 
Tanner found in this relation much of the pleasure 
of his last ten years. A student came to him one 
day with the complaint that a certain topic had cost 
him too much study. "How many hours?" asked 
Dr. Tanner. On receiving the reply, he put his 
hand on the fellow's shoulder and mildly said: "I 


spent three times as long yesterday upon that lesson 


It was seldom necessary for him to do anything 
to maintain order in the recitation room. By the 
clearness and force of his unremitting thought, he 
kept the students occupied instead; but, while he 
thoroughly appreciated the occasional humor of 
sober subjects if there was ever any trifling, he 
needed to speak but once. He regarded the study of 
mind, either human or divine, as a sacred privilege, 
and his earnestness was contagious. It was a great 
sacrifice to him, to devote his best energies to the 
wasting routine of his college executive work, but 
it is now a gratification to think that, his duties done, 
he is extending his search for truth along these same 
lines, with eternity before him, and above him a new 
light, and beside him a new associate, the one who 
was both the Greatest Physician and the Greatest 

Had Edward Allen Tanner never been a professor 
at Illinois College, he never would have taken its pre- 
sidency. There was nothing inviting in the out- 
look. A depleted treasury and a small and dis- 
heartened constituency! Shrinkage in funds and an 
annual deficiency of several thousand dollars, seem- 
ingly unavoidable, had reduced the secured endow- 
ment to $55,000. Is was a question whether or not 
to close the institution and wait for a resurrection 
which would probably have never come. Professor 
Tanner said, no. He loved the College, and cheer- 
fully entered upon the work. There were very few 
rich men upon whom the institution had any pos- 
sible hold, and they had lost their confidence. 
Those who were planning large benevolences looked 


for places of less history perhaps, but of greater 
promise. So Dr. Tanner began among men and 
women of moderate means to build by their aid sure 
foundations for larger things. Even in this effort 
he was constantly baffled, but his tact was only 
equalled by his pertinacity. He never angered, but 
he seldom gave up. Nearly half of his energies this 
past decade were given to such work. It was a 
painful work to him and to those who understood 
him. His sensitive nature recoiled from such mendi- 
cacy, especially as in repeated cases his only hold 
was a strong personal attachment, and he knew that 
many of his friends were doing for his sake what 
their judgment opposed. 

This work he regarded as now finished with the 
completion of the Gymnasium and Memorial Hall, 
just a month before his death. The College again 
had possession of its entire campus. Two new 
buildings stood upon it, and everything was in 
good order. The year's attendance was the largest 
in its history. The financial basis was sound, al- 
though the endowment was yet only $175,000. 
More has been given to other institutions in a single 
unsolicited donation. Less than a thousand dollars 
had come to Illinois College unsought, and no 
princely gift from any source. But "Illinois" could 
claim a larger list of donors these last ten years 
than any other college in the interior, perhaps than 
any other in the country, hundreds upon hundreds. 
President Tanner felt that "the pocket-book connec- 
tion" was good, and he was shrewd enough to see in 
this fact the hope for larger things. And the larger 
things were on their way, not only in faith, but 
also in promise. 


But the educator did not place an institution of 
.earning behind the dollar mark, while recognizing 
the importance of sound business principles. He 
was careful to promote local pride and interest, see- 
ing in Central Illinois a grand college field. He 
courted the common schools and the high schools. 
.He fostered the enthusiasm of alumni and past- 
students by rousing anniversary occasions upon the 
"Hill." Genuine literary excellence was sought in 
the curriculum; and with the full knowledge that it 
would work a temporary disadvantage, the course 
of study was set side by side with the highest in the 

A Congregationalist himself, President Tanner 
struggled simply for a Christian college. He knew 
that when Illinois College was falling, it was 
saved as much by other churches as by his own, 
both in patronage and benevolence. He cheerfully 
recognized the reason for this general dependence; 
he told himself that Central Illinois was not the 
Congregational stronghold of the region, and that 
the institution was not then in a position to draw 
much help from distant cities; but in simple fairness, 
lie insisted that no fences be erected. This brought 
some opposition from his own denomination, but it 
was silent and only in a few cases has it proved per- 
sistent. Illinois College goes on its way of Chris- 
tian harmony with a helpful, if not a noisy, support 
in each of all the churches, and with the commenda- 
tion of their liberal organs and of their liberal men. 

Had it not been for his relation with the board of 
trust, the president would have often faltered. 
Their attitude toward him was an uninterrupted 
pleasure. With rare tenderness, they were always 


urging him to do less and to take more. A com- 
plete mutual confidence existed, and he felt that he 
had not only the strongest personal friends, but also 
the wisest advisers in the field of education. There 
was no littleness in his dealings with the faculty. 
He sought men who, in part at least, would conse- 
crate themselves as he had done to Illinois College; 
and it seemed very fitting that the one who had 
come from the board of trust at his request to aid 
him in his work, and who had been all those years 
the close comrade of his disinterested loyalty, 
should as acting president round out for him the 
duties of the unfinished year. 

What is it that leads man to abandon self; to turn 
away from easier and larger opportunities, and to 
cling to a task in which he sees little of present 
glory for himself; to be willing that others should 
overshadow him, while he stoops to distasteful work 
which he sees must be done before the superstruct- 
ure of a great and lasting institution can be raised? 
Hear again these inaugural words, and catch the 

" And, now, while faith be unwavering, sight fails 
as yet to bring into clear outline the college of the 
future, the view dissolves, the institution fades out 
for the moment, and, as you have sometimes seen 
objects on an eminence magnified and transfigured 
in the sunset, two men* appear upon yonder hill two 
men who have in great measure shaped the col- 
lege of the past; one whose cheeks are still flushed 
with the ' Conflict of Ages,' and one who carries in 
his left hand the golden wand of 'Economics,' 

* Dr. Edward Beecherand Dr. Julian M. Sturtevant, first and 
second presidents of Illinois College. 


while his right hand grips the 'Keys of Sect,' 
which, at near four-score, he delights to hurl into 
the face of St. Peter himself two men, whose intel- 
lectual shadows falling this way cover the speaker, 
and then lengthen on and on, till he cannot discern 
so much as his own shadow. But he can look to- 
ward the sunrise, toward the twentieth century, and 
then back toward your sympathetic faces, and then 
up to Thy shining face, O Master divine. Where- 
upon inspirations come, as carrier birds, flying over 
the still unopened gates of the morning, and the 
message which they bear beneath their wings reads, 
' Make ready, during these intervening years, a fit- 
ting college celebration for the two thousandth year 
of our Lord.' " 

Willing to stand beneath the shadow of predeces- 
sors! Eager to stand beneath the shadow of succes- 
sors! Altruistic purpose of an unselfish man! Far- 
sighted vision of a Christ-like ministry! "There is 
that scattereth and yet increaseth," is the theme of a 
sermon recorded here. "There is that scattereth 
and yet increaseth," is the theme of a life recorded 
THERE. And after its years of patient toil, God him- 
self said, through the toiler's own enfeebled lips, 
and as a benediction to the departing soul, " It is a 
great gratification to feel that one has been allowed 
to accomplish even a little for the future for some- 
one else." 

He who labors thus for a Christian institution, 
humble though it be, labors for all time. He who 
sets beneficent forces at work in human character 
labors for eternity. President Tanner did both. 
A dignified college officer, a strict disciplinarian, he 
was as tender as a father unto all. Many a one in 


danger of moral destruction he led back to what he 
effectively told him he himself had found to be the 
wiser and the better way. His room at the college 
and his study at the home are sacred in many hearts. 
Scattered through these lands are other men whom 
he has made more manly and other such have gone 
before him to to the Imperial Country. While tak- 
ing delight in students' pleasures and pride in their 
achievements, he sought to develop broad and gen- 
uine Christian qualities. Such he saw to be the 
mission of the Western College, that of the willow 
rather than of the oak, bending itself to special 
needs, with the lowly uplift of personal help, if not 
the sweep of huge buildings and endowments. 

He longed to prepare his younger brethren for 
the struggle of life, to set before them real worth 
and usefulness to men in place of shadowy ambitions. 
He talked to them at times about his own life and 
disappointments wanted them to learn at the out- 
set just as he had learned, through struggle with self, 
to say "Thy will be done;" felt the ties of earnest 
brotherhood, the relation growing closer and more 
helpful up to the very end. "I hope I'll be a little 
stronger to-morrow," said he one early morning, a week 
before his death. " I want to talk over with you 
some plans for helping those especially who are work- 
ing their own way through college." And on the fol- 
lowing Sabbath, long after his last thought had been 
made known, and with only a few night hours be- 
tween him and the Unbroken Day, the sound of a 
whisper was heard, but even a wife's eager ear could 
catch only three feeble words: "College boys 

Was he thinking of the morrow's message of 



that college bell? Was he already listening to its 
measured ringing as it later called the students 
to recitation room and house of God, there to re- 
ceive the last, silent teaching of one who had 
"worked his own way" through life? And with his 
spirit out upon that ocean which "rolls round all the 
world," goes this receding tide of an untold yearning 
such as had borne him on to self-sacrifice from the 
time he chose his working place on College Hill till 
the time he entered his resting place at Diamond 

An old college tower in the distance; a grave at 
our feet! Between them a whole life of devotion! 


MAY 28, 1882. 

" I sat down under his shadow, with great delight." S olo- 
mon's Song ii : 3. 

Shadows of blessing gladden the world. 

Imponderable agencies are among the mightiest 
forces that govern in nature and life. Seas and 
mountains may charge and discharge the clouds? 
rilling plains with plenty, and making rivers for 
the transportation of wheat and corn; but all along 
from Homer to Wordsworth, they have likewise been 
giving wings to the imagination and revelations to 
the soul. New York awakes to her 1 responsibility* 
realizing at length, that Niagara has another mission 
to the East, than the driving of saws and spindles 
and looms; while California proclaims in the valley of 
the Yosemite, that greed, with grimy hands, shall 
not smut the bridal veil of the West. Man must 
have bread, but, in the higher ranges of his being, he 
can not live on bread alone. Often an emanation 
seems more than the bodily substance; the residuum 
may be gross, the volatile essence ethereal. 

Beneath the open firmament, visible forms are 
shapes of speechless matter; but they diffuse an in- 
tangible something, under which we sit down with 
great delight, getting a hint of the old bard's mean- 
ing when he sang "I will abide under the shadow of 
the Almighty." 

With this passing glance at the realm where God 
alone is Creator, and where the air is full of sugges- 


tions of benevolence, we turn to human organiza- 
tions, and find there the same general law of 
influence, producing, however, now one result and 
now another, according as good or evil is predom- 
inant in motive. Here shadows of bane often sad- 
den the world. The most obtrusive fact in society 
is the combination of labor and capital. Marvellous 
effects greet the eye. Judging the present by the 
past, comparing material prosperity with material 
prosperity, we are ready to declare, that the millen- 
nium can not be far away. But, creeping alongside, 
conies that shadow of dread, the despair of our 
social science, issuing from the antagonism of the 
factors, that now ill-concealed antipathy, now des- 
perate struggle, between money and muscle, brain 
and brawn. 

Next transfer the idea from the Cosmos of God 
and the Babel of the common-work-a-day world, 
to the quiet republic of letters. There, likewise, the 
same principle is all-pervasive. 

There are two methods of computing the worth of 
an institution of learning. The first employs only 
the rudiments of arithmetic. A knowledge of 
simple addition even, will suffice. This method 
merely inquires how many acres of land, what 
buildings, what apparatus, how large a library, how 
much endowment, what the number in the faculty, and 
what the size of the classes. Given these data, and 
it will in a few moments sum up the figures and 
tell you the comparative value of an Oxford, or a 
Heidelberg. There is no other of these items which 
weighs so much with the ordinary citizen as the 
number of students. On that chiefly he founds his 
opinion. But suppose that we apply this standard 


to the continental universities, and mark the result. 
According to statistics, the students in the universi- 
ties of Russia outnumber those in the universities of 
Belgium, Holland and Switzerland combined. Those 
in the universities of Spain outnumber those in the 
universities of England and Scotland. Those in the 
universities of Italy outnumber those in the univer- 
sities of Germany. 

But where are the institutions that have shaped 
the higher intellectual and moral life of mankind? 
Where are the institutions, under the shadow of 
which the world has sat with great delight, for four, 
and six, and eight hundred years? 

No one would for a moment think of turning to 
Russia, or Spain, or Italy, for an answer. Only in 
countries where free though^and free speech are en- 
couraged, from generation to o generation, can the 
genius of learning assert its most beneficent power. 
Wherever spiritual despotism reigns, filling chairs of 
instruction, and regulating curricula, the barren 
speculations of the schoolmen will be substituted 
for the vital questions of the day, and, though great 
numbers may be assembled for study, enthusiastic 
devotion unto truth, for her own dear sake, will be 
unknown, and youthful energy and zeal will be per- 
verted, to the support of hoary forms of superstition. 

Let such be the ruling spirit, and, no matter what 
the acquisition, the prevailing influence must be 
baleful, calculated to hinder, rather than to promote 
the noblest civilization. Even in the other coun- 
tries mentioned, the shadows cast have not always 
been shadows of blessing. When in the middle 
ages, the universities there expelled Jesus Christ, 
they became a curse to mankind. Mind and soul 


were belittled and degraded. The dwarfing of. intel- 
lect and the corruption of morals kept even pace 
down the centuries. There was no dawning of a 
better era, till More and Erasmus and Colet entered 
Oxford, Greek Testament in hand, proclaiming 
within those courts the "Christianity of Jesus and his 
Apostles," elevating again to its old place above in- 
structor's desk, in recitation room and lecture room, 
the form of the crucified, and writing afresh upon 
the very walls, "Hear ye Him." And Cambridge 
responded to Oxford. And then Reuchlin aroused 
Heidelberg with the same message, making both 
Greek and Hebrew testify once more of Jesus, at 
that ancient seat of learning. And Luther heard in 
the cell at Erfurt. And Zwingli heard upon the 
mountains of Switzerland. And the Reformation 
was accomplished. * 

But institutions, like individuals, have a bent to- 
ward evil and the universities of Germany and of 
England have not escaped this tendency in the igth 
century. Having once swung from superstition to 
faith, their next rebound was respectively toward 
rationalism and agnosticism. The former is correct- 
ing itself, the latter still struggles toward ascend- 
ency. That spirit of destructive criticism which 
brooded over Germany twenty-five years ago, pro- 
nouncing its emphatic nay, nay, alike upon the 
myths of paganism and the miracles of the gospels, 
yields little by little, and learns to utter its yea, yea, 
concerning the wonders of the New Testament. 

Thoughtful men are anxiously watching, to see 
whether the English universities will break away 
from the spell which is cast over them, by the union 
of a materialistic philosophy with materialistic 


science, knowing that, till that alliance is dissolved, 
the silent influence of Cambridge and Oxford must 
be anti-Christian. 

Turning to our own system of higher education, 
we find the intuitional philosophy in conflict with 
materialistic science, the former as yet superior, but 
the latter making desperate fight, and seeking to 
ally with itself the state universities against the dis- 
tinctively Christian colleges. 

Thus far in American history, the latter have been 
beneficent forces. Besides the mental training 
given, without making creed or dogma prominent, 
though noiseless and unobtrusive, they have stood 
among the mightiest moral agencies in the nation. 
There is no prospect that there will be any general 
revolution in the outer form of the system. The 
relative proportions of the curriculum are not to be 
greatly altered. History and local conditions will 
introduce new departments. Illinois may need 
some educational features not required in Massa- 
chusetts. Improvement and enlargement will 
accompany increased resources. Catalogues will 
show more distinguished men in the faculties and 
longer class lists. Teachers will teach the same 
things, but more of them, and with more thorough- 
ness, and students. will graduate with higher attain- 
ments. Yet, when we turn to the indirect influence 
of our colleges in the future, prophecy loses some- 
what of its confidence, for there is stealing in upon 
all these institutions an insidious spirit of secularism, 
peculiarly American. The oldest and strongest suf- 
fer most, but the weakest do not escape. What 
shall the shadow be? This is the impending ques- 
tion: Shall the geni^ts of liberal learning henceforth 


prove intensely secular, or profoundly religious? But, 
some one exclaims, would you have the college as- 
sume the functions of the theological seminary? By 
no means. The offices of the two are distinct. Keep 
them separate. Still confine the study of dogma 
and formulated creeds to the schools of divinity. 
In college work the age of Augustine would be a 
wretched substitute for the age of Augustus. The 
change might seem to smack more of piety, but it 
would cause grievous loss in the direction of schol- 
arly culture. The secret of good, or evil, is hidden 
in the undertone which pervades the institution, 
that mysterious something which speaks day after 
day through x and y, and Alpha and Omega, and 
classic story and chemical formula, and Barbara and 
Celarent. Let it never be forgotten, that these in- 
stitutions stand as one great hope not simply of 
civilization, but of Christian civilization; and that 
they can realize that hope, only as they recognize 
the mastership of Jesus. The richest university, 
that gathers the costliest cabinets, and loads the 
shelves of its libraries with treasures of thought, and 
calls to its chairs of instruction the most renowned 
scientists, philologists, and metaphysicians, and 
draws to itself young men by hundreds and tens of 
hundreds, and yet does not exalt high above all 
Him who alone hath the words of everlasting life, 
out of those very things, in themselves excellent, is 
casting an ever lengthening, ever darkening shadow 
of evil. 

And the poorest .college that cannot buy choice 
collections of specimens, that is not able to add 
every new volume to its book list, that has to con- 
tent itself with professors unknown to fame and stu- 


dents a few score in number, and yet beholds in its 
teachers and under-graduates an earnest seeking 
after what is most valuable in thought, most manly 
in character, most loyal to the name of Him whose 
lordship is over all realms of matter, all realms of 
mind, all realms of spirit Christ's College throws 
a lesser shadow, but one of blessed refreshment, 
under which individuals and communities sit down 
with great delight. 

Longfellow makes the very shadow of Evangeline 
the ever attendant witness of her beauty and her 
moral power. This college ideal we love, and here 
in the Acadian calm of the on-coming Sabbath 
evening, like Gabriel in the story, we look up from 
beneath the trees, and wait and watch for the gleam 
of a lamp and a shadow. 

And now, while, though faith be unwavering, 
sight fails as yet to bring into clear outline the col- 
lege of the future, the view dissolves, the institution 
fades out for the moment, and, as you have some- 
times seen objects on an eminence magnified and 
transfigured in the sunset, two men appear upon 
yonder hill two men who have in great measure 
shaped the college of the past; one whose cheeks 
are still flushed with the "Conflict of Ages," and' one 
who carries in his left hand the golden wand of 
"Economics," while his right hand grips the "Keys 
of Sect," which, at near four-score, he delights to 
hurl into the face of St. Peter himself two men, 
whose intellectual shadows falling this way cover 
the speaker, and then lengthen on and on till he 
cannot discern so much as his own shadow. But he 
can look toward the sunrise, toward the twentieth 
century, and then back toward your sympathetic 


faces, and then up to thy shining face, O Master 
divine. Whereupon inspirations come, as carrier 
birds, flying over the still unopened gates of the 
morning, and the message which they bear beneath 
their wings reads, "Make ready, during these inter- 
vening years, a fitting college celebration for the 
Two Thousandth Year of our Lord." Thus courage 
is gained to take this precious trust from predeces- 
sors, far superior as metaphysicians and logicians. 
Very gracious is the benediction of him who laid 
aside the cares of the presidency the other year, but 
who with mental vigor unabated, still fills a place 
which few others could fill so well. May the dream 
of his youth be more and more the vision of his old 
age. Most acceptable also is the cordiality of one 
who has so ably borne of late the burdens of an 
acting presidency, an exceedingly vexatious posi- 

The unanimity of faculty and board of trustees 
calls for abundant gratitude. The general sympathy 
and co-operation of graduates and under-graduates, 
our own boys, are as exhilerating as the wine of life. 
Jacksonville adopted an orphan some thirty years 
ago. He had only a few dollars and only very mod- 
erate abilties. But his foster-mother has overlooked 
his weaknesses, cheered him in his discouragements 
and rewarded his poor efforts a thousand fold be- 
yond their deserts. To him she is the dearest town 
in this wide world, and what he longs to see, expects 
to see, is the college on the hill shining more and 
more as the crown of Jacksonville's rejoicing. The 
circle enlarges, incentives multiply. Born in this 
county, so rich in agricultural resources, the son of 
a farmer, he is eager that the college may do some- 


thing more to dignify and ennoble home life in the 
country and aid in checking this feverish rush to 
the great centers of population, which is an evil of 
the times and a source of danger to the common- 
wealth. Illinois College for Illinois, Illinois College 
for the Republic of Letters, Illinois College for the 
Kingdom of the Christ. 

At this season of the year when hundreds and 
thousands of the choice youth of the nation are 
graduating into a new world of aspiration and en- 
deavor, all these institutions themselves seem sum- 
moned to examination. Presently will come from 
the press the usual demand that they shall give an 
account of their work. The questioning may vary 
in form, but the general purport will be, What have 
you done to train and equip these boys, that they 
may henceforth do battle like men, win the world's 
prizes and wear its laurels? The old sneers may 
be expected. From certain quarters, once in a 
twelve-month, we are treated to a Jeremiade over 
the helplessness of the average graduate. What 
will become of him, when he has worn out the fine 
clothes which fond parents furnished on commence- 
ment day, as they do a daughter's bridal dress? 
What though the youth has learned to court the 
sacred nine on Helicon; the muses cannot bear the 
smell of machine oil; but he must somehow get 
down from Bceotia to business and learn to grease 
those cogs and cranks that will grind him out his 
daily bread. 

There do go forth from the halls of learning, now 
and then, those who prove conspicuous examples of 
threadbare and hungry respectability; but, usually, 
they would have been just as threadbare and hungry 


had they stuck to the three R's and made ugly faces 
at the nine muses. The only difference is, that the 
imbecility of a college, man, like the wickedness of a 
minister's son, becomes notorious. An institution 
ought not to be expected to furnish both brains and 
tuition, as William Pitt did for poor George Third. 

We shall hear also disparaging remarks on the 
other extreme. Comparisons will be drawn in favor 
of self-made men. Illustrations will be multiplied 
to prove that the high places of life are usually held 
by those who have none to thank but themselves for 
their elevation. But, to learn the idleness of such 
talk, one has only to remember the relative number 
of the educated and the uneducated, and then turn 
to the annals of science, philosophy, medicine, law, 
divinity and politics, to see how vast is the advant- 
age of disciplined over undisciplined mind. 

Study the influence of the American college 
over the American congress. Recall the starred and 
starry names of house and senate and cabinet and 
diplomacy. What occasion is there to blush when 
a college man and a college president steps into the 
place once held by Old Hickory and the Rail-split- 
ter? The temptation is great to follow the line of 
thought suggested by those who scorn the higher 
learning and to show how untenable is the ground 
which they occupy, even if no other tests are applied 
than those of common worldly utility and prefer- 
ment. There may be some .present whom such an 
argument only would influence. There may be 
others who think that at least the safer form of dis- 
cussion. They do not quite dare to put the question 
on the higher spiritual level. They feel somewhat 
as Miles Standish did when he walked round Plym- 


outh Rock and exclaimed: "Short allowance of 
victuals and plenty of nothing but Gospel!" Yet, 
when you measure a Plymouth Rock, learn to 
measure it, not as a table, but as a pulpit. 

So in your estimate of the college do not rest satis- 
fied with ascertaining its size as a cog-wheel in the 
complicated machine of American politics. Do not 
confine your view of its worth to the subtlety and 
acumen which it will impart to the future student of 
law. Do not simply ask whether the training will 
qualify your son to investigate more successfully the 
mysteries of medical science in short, go farther 
than to inquire whether these long years of 
study will develop an ingenious youth into a 
merely prosperous man of the world. Make 
the calculation rather from the shadow which the 
institution casts upon the character of your boy. 
Will he come out from that shadow by and by a 
manikin, or a man? As is the college so must be 
the graduate. A law of mental and moral heredity 
binds the alma mater and the alumnus together. 
Here is the crucial test by which a literary institu- 
tion ought to stand or to fall. 

I feel profoundly the importance of increasing 
our endowment fund, of adding to our faculty for 
some time to come every year, at least one professor, 
w.ho shall command universal respect as a master 
mind in his own department, and of thus doubling 
very speedily our present number of students. But I 
am far more anxious that the money in the treasury, 
like the old Jewish shekel, may bear the head of no 
human Caesar, but simply Aaron's almond rod that 
budded and a pot of the manna which came down 
from heaven; that a new enthusiasm spirit of God 


within the soul such is the meaning of the old 
Greek word may take possession of every in- 
structor, so that when these classes leave us, year by 
year, we may sing, as does the laureate concerning 
Arthur's knights: 

"Well, good ye are, and bad, and like to coins, 
Some true, some light, but every one of you 
Stamped with the image of the king." 

A college is a Christian Cornelia; her sons are 
her jewels; their brilliancy is her pride; but her 
mother love is diviner than her pride, and, as she 
sends her boys out into life, her most earnest in- 
quiry concerns the quality of their manliness. What 
stations of profit, honor and power they are to fill, 
may be the first question; yet that quickly yields 
precedence to another what silent, resistless forces 
shall emanate from character, to become a factor in 
the destiny of a lesser or a larger world; which 
shall be cast, shadows of bane or shadows of bless- 

This affectionate solicitude deserves a grateful 
return. In Trevelyan's Life of Macaulay may be 
found these words concerning the historian's love 
for his college: "Of his places of sojourn during his 
joyous and shining pilgrimage through the world, 
Trinity, and Trinity alone, had any share with his 
home in Macaulay's affection and loyalty. That 
was the spot where, in his failing years, he especially 
loved to renew the feelings of the past, and some 
there are who can never revisit it without the fancy 
that there, if anywhere, his dear shade must linger." 

Let the larger be the type of the smaller this day. 

My Younger Brethren: Illinois College, with fond 


solicitude, forecasts your future as you go out into 
the world. Both success and failure are written on 
the far-away horizon of possibility, encircling you 
all. Many fields of conflict lie between. There may 
be a few quick and brilliant victories. Yet, even in 
those danger lurks. Conceit and a treacherous sense 
of security take possession of the soul, so that the at- 
first beautiful blush of triumph turns by and by into 
the ugly redness and blackness of mortification. 
There will come, also, defeats not a few. Shall they 
be Bunker Hills orWaterloos? Bunker Hill means re- 
newed fight, monumental granite, inspiration. Water- 
loo means exile, St. Helena, despair. Let not the 
approaching contact . with the real mar the ideal. 
Perfect your ideal and work toward it reverently. 
Catering to a lower taste degrades whatever is done. 
Said Mendelssohn : "When I have written a piece of 
music, just as it came from my heart, then I have 
done my duty toward it." 

American youth have been recently hearing the 
voice and reading the verse of the apostle of yEsthet- 
icism. Oscar Wilde, while exalting this doctrine of 
the shadow in art, with strange inconsistency decries 
it in literature and seeks to remove the latter from 
the domain of morals. He and his disciples might 
well give heed to the famous composer, who made a 
solemn vow that he would never set immorality to 
music; might well confess their folly to the old Eng- 
lish bard who declared that " He who would write 
heroic poems must make his whole life a heroic poem."' 
The writing of a heroic poem might be for you a. 
vain endeavor; but the living of a heroic poem should, 
be the sacred resolution of the hour. Did you never 
read how the Peruvians used to kiss the air as art a,ct; 


of worship, that thus, at least their love might reach 
the gods? Every soul has its atmosphere, which it 
may fill with silent benediction for other souls, and 
thus win the approbation of Him who now seeth in 
secret to reward openly by-and-by. Let us subscribe 
to this creed together to-day. I think that we shall 
henceforth take a somewhat peculiar interest in one 
another. Just twenty-five years ago this afternoon, 
in the old brick church on this very site, with my 
classmates, I was standing where you stand and lis- 
tening to the farewell words of the venerable ex- 
president, whom you and I delight to honor. Twenty- 
five years! Silver chord, always musical with the 
memories pf youth! Touch it, and the intervening 
quarter of a century vanishes : I am a boy again 
with you, one instant shrinking, alarmed; the next 
eager, expectant, looking out into the untried; then, 
as the sound dies away, recollection blends with 
reality, and I am upon the border of another untried. 
Heart answers to heart: we see eye to eye. Let us 
review, as our last lesson together, that page in his- 
tory which we have read and loved from childhood, 
the page which tells how Columbus, intent upon find- 
ing a better way to an old province, for the sake of 
his country and his Christ, found instead a new 

Whatsoever, with purpose noble and steadfast, puts 
keel into the unknown, will be guided of God to 
things which outsphere all his dreams. 



"Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong 
came forth sweetness." Judges xiv. 14. 

The riddle which vexed the Philistines three days, 
and then left them in despair, has perplexed the 
world thirty centuries, and still finds mankind only 
partially solving its meaning. The lion did not bring 
food to Samson, as the ravens did to Elijah. There 
had to be a fight first. Not till the carcass of the 
slain was bleached and whitened, did the victor find 
in it the honey-comb. History has been repeating 
the story ever since. Kings have done little for 
their subjects voluntarily. The vassal has had to 
throttle his master, to get increase of privilege. 
Not till aristocracy has felt the many-handed grip 
of democracy, have the Magna Chartas of liberty, 
equality and fraternity been granted. Thus far, the 
mighty of this world have not much more reason to 
take credit to themselves for the refreshment of the 
wayfaring multitude, than had the king of beasts for 
ministering to the wants of the hungry Samson, on 
the road to Timnath. The eater has been bent 
upon getting, instead of giving, the meat. Still he 
has been obliged, though sorely against his will, to 
yield more and more for the general good. 

I was especially impressed with this idea in read- 
ing Knight's Popular History of England. The 
work does not, like many histories, concern itself 
chiefly with kings and queens and lords. It sympa- 


thizes especially with the Commons and the com- 
mon people, and dwells with interest upon the con- 
flicts between serf and master, the weaker baron 
and the stronger, feudalism and monarchy, parlia- 
ment and crown. You watch the slow and painful 
evolution of the doctrine of the rights of man as 
man, which has been going on in Britain since the 
dawn of the Christian era. The Englishman, like 
the American, discards "the monstrous creed of mil- 
lions made for one," and "looks at the millions with 
another faith, the faith of our times." A Canute 
may plant his chair on the shore, and bid the waters 
stand back, but there is a mightier power, slowly 
lifting the tide, and the king is forced to obey the 
hoarse voice of the sea. At length he exclaims: 
"I beg and command those to whom I have en- 
trusted the government, as they wish to preserve my 
good-will, and save their own souls, to do no injus- 
tice, either to poor or rich. Let those who are 
noble and those who are not, equally obtain their 
rights according to the laws, from which no devia- 
tion shall be allowed, either from fear of me, or 
through favor to the powerful, or for the purpose of 
supplying my treasury. I want no money raised by 

Such progress did equity make in a thousand 
years. Then, generation after generation, deepens 
and darkens the struggle between the clownish 
Saxon and the courtly Norman, till concession fol- 
lows concession, and the old feud dies out, and in 
the blending of the two races, England becomes a 
united nation. For centuries the conflict continues 
between this united people and its kings. Reluct- 
antly the latter grant right after right, privilege 


after privilege, on from the days of Runnymede and 
treacherous King John. But, gradually, a better 
spirit pervades the body politic. The eater is less 
and less the destroyer. The strength which he gives 
is imparted more graciously. And finally a queen 
Victoria speaks thus from the throne: "I look to 
the protection of Almighty God for favor in our 
continued progress; and I trust you will assist me 
in upholding the fabric of the constitution, founded 
as it is upon the principles of freedom and justice." 

This brief outline represents what has been the 
general course of events, under every form of gov- 
ernment. At the outset the strong have invariably 
tyrannized over the weak, and the condition of the 
latter has been ameliorated, only after desperate and 
long-continued antagonism between the governing 
and the governed classes. But, gradually, another 
doctrine has been taking possession of the world 
the doctrine of the solidarity of human interests, the 
doctrine that the strong exist for the sake of the 
weak, as well as the weak for the sake of the strong. 
Meat has come less and less from the slain eater, 
and more and more through voluntary surrender by 
the living eater, who has learned the joy of sharing 
his portion with the less fortunate. The idea is con- 
stantly spreading, that the government exists for 
the sake of the people, and not the people for the 
sake of the government. 

The call for rebellions and revolutions diminishes 
as the centuries glide by. Peace, rather than war, ' 
is the hope of the reformer. The Hartmans and, 
Guiteaus seem more infamous than the Guy Faw- 
keses of the past. If the world ever needed such 
creatures as ministers of progress, that day has cer- 


tainly gone by. This is true, under the monarchy 
of England, the autocracy of Russia, the imperialism 
of Germany, and the republicanism of France and 
America. Amid conflicting interests we are called 
upon to check recklessness, and cultivate temper- 
ance and self-restraint, when reforms do not keep 
even pace with our eagerness for the immediate 
breaking of the millennial dawn. There should be 
great content, when we contrast the ancient and the 
modern attitude of the leading governments of the 

The present English House of Lords is studying 
the question of the surrender of its vested privileges 
with a calmness and an unselfishness hitherto un- 
known in the history of Britain. The example is 
typical of the sentiment which is filtering into all 
forms of civil government. The eater must not only 
consume, but also contribute freely to the multi- 
tudes. Henry VII permitted John Cabot and sons 
to sail at their own charges in quest of undiscovered 
countries, and then paid them only $75 for the dis- 
covery of Newfoundland. What modern ruler would 
dare to exhibit such shameless greed, such disregard 
of a subject's claims to gratitude? 

In the next place, this is true not only of govern- 
ments as units, but also of individuals conspicuous 
in administration. Gladstone, in great weariness, 
exclaimed one day, " I'm leading a dog's life." 
" Yes," replied Lord Houghton, " the life of a St. 
Bernard, which is spent in saving the lives of 

How such an example relieves the opprobrium 
resting upon politics. We look upon those who de- 
vote themselves to political life as giving body and 


soul to an unprincipled, cut-throat fight for place and 
power. The judgment is none too severe in a major- 
ity of cases. The demagogues who are seen oftenest 
and who talk loudest, when elections are impending, 
deserve their reputations as temporizing tricksters. 
But their notoriety causes us to overlook that noble 
minority, who may be found in legislature and con- 
gress, laboring conscientiously for the highest good 
of the state and the nation. While Mr. Shallow 
Splurge is noisily advocating some plausible scheme 
which shall line his own pocket and enrich some op- 
pressive monopoly, while he is drawing the notice of 
the press and filling the public eye and thought, 
there is his colleague, busied in the committee room, 
quietly, but painfully, mapping out and perfecting 
some great scheme of general beneficence. As 
Americans we are too much given to judging every- 
thing from the floor of the house. We let ourselves 
be carried away by declamation; we are bewitched by 
notoriety, rather than captivated by unobtrusive ex- 
cellence; we have not the patience to go behind the 
scenes and ascertain who, in genuine patriotism, are 
carefully and comprehensively studying the situa- 
tion, and maturing plans which look beyond petty 
personal and party triumphs, to national peace and 
prosperity. There is an increasing number of such 
men, who are doing no little to redeem politics from 
reproach. The quality of legislation is improving 
with each generation, though we find it hard to real- 
ize the fact. Such is the virulence of party spirit 
that an every day newspaper parade is made of the 
iniquity of republicanism and democracy, till we are 
ready to despair of the nation in the hands of either. 
We class the two as Sodom and Gomorrah; declare, 


in pessimistic mood, that there are no good men left 

in either, and that fire and brimstone are the only 

The case is not so bad. If you unearth the secret 
history of our first century, you find worse rottenness, 
when you bear in mind the feebler temptations, and 
you detect in the noblest spirits an obtuseness in the 
moral perceptions which you will not discover in 
many who now shape the affairs of the nation. Con- 
science means more, the word, ought, weighs more at 
Washington than conscience meant and the word 
ought weighed a hundred years ago. Interests are 
more complicated, economical questions have as- 
sumed greater magnitude, inequalities in wealth have 
multiplied, social problems grow more perplexing, 
but let us not lose faith in the genius of the republic. 

Our hope is not in revolution and temporary an- 
archy. Let us not think to slay the lion, in the be- 
lief that strength will be found in the carcass by and 
by. No : our strength is in the living lion. Good 
men and true of both parties, in the high places of 
power, are consecrating themselves to the clearing 
up of these riddles, in such a way as to secure the 
greatest possible happiness to every citizen. 

Advance, now, to the second member of the text: 
" Out of the strong came forth sweetness." 

Turn from meat to sweetness, as it were from 
repast to dessert. 

There is and is to be an ever increasing gracious- 
ness in the demeanor of the strong in the presence 
of weakness and suffering. This is one of the bright- 
est characteristics of the century. The sword of 
Charlemagne was named "Gaudiosa." The word 
means "full of joy." The name indicated the great 


king's delight in conquest. Though he was one of 
the chief agents appointed of God, in the early ages, 
for the removal of anarchy and the spread of civili- 
zation, there was no tenderness in his methods, but 
only a fierce satisfaction. in triumphing over his foes. 

Contrast with his haughty grandeur, his pride in 
the success of his plans for the pacification of the 
world, with no care for the cost in human misery, the 
attitude of a Lincoln on the field of Gettysburg; his 
anguish over the terrible price paid for the vindica- 
tion of righteousness. Hear his testimony to its 
transforming power. "When Heft home to take the 
chair of state, I was not a Christian. When my son 
died, I was not a Christian. But, when I went to 
Gettysburg, and looked upon the graves of our dead 
heroes, who had fallen in defence of their country, I 
then and there consecrated myself to Christ." "Out 
of the strong came forth s^veet?tess." The first half 
of the text is Charlemagne's, the second is Lincoln's. 
The heart, as well as the head, begins to be swayed 
by love. 

Recall, also, the tender messages that come across 
the sea, those weary months, from Queen Victoria to 
Mrs. Garfield. You find nothing like them in the 
histories of the olden time. The pomp and circum- 
stance of court and capital are swept away, and the 
widow of England and the widow of the republic 
sit down, side by side, as sisters in sorrow. Woman- 
hood is glorified by sympathy in the world's high 
places. But this spirit, which brings "sweetness" 
into life, does not confine itself to caste and class. 
It disdains all those artificial barriers which are sup- 
posed to mark gradations in society. I read one 
day, during Garfield's prostration, that Dr. Agnew, 


after a short visit to Washington, had returned to 
Philadelphia, on the plea of necessity. And what 
was the necessity? There were in the city hospital, 
at his own home, two poor men, who, for weeks, had 
been his patients. Said he: "The President does 
not need me. Skillful surgeons are sitting by his 
bedside night and day; but those two crippled me- 
chanics have no one but me to dress their wounds. 
Duty calls me there." " Out of the strong came 
forth sweetness." The Good Samaritan is not a 
mere creature pf the imagination. He is seen stoop- 
ing by the wayside, to pour in the oil and the wine. 
This disposition is not confined to any rank or pro- 
fession. It is sometimes argued that out boasted 
culture tends to hardness of heart, and deadens all 
interest in the common toils and troubles of the mul- 
titude. This is so in some cases. It can not be de- 
nied that Matthew Arnold, the high priest of culture, 
does cherish a natural repugnance to ordinary peo- 
ple, that he does treat them as boors, and that he is 
courteous only to his peers. 

It can not be denied that those who live in books, 
those who, from their employment, are removed from 
constant contact with the multitude, must be on their 
guard against a clannish spirit. It is no less true 
that the majority of those who are said to belong to 
the literary guild, do realize the danger, and guard 
against the temptation. The educated man to-day 
is trying to get nearer to the ignorant man than ever 
he was before. The brain is not robbing the heart 
of its blood. In proof of the statement, listen to 
such words as these, dropping from the lips of one 
who has gained a world's applause: 

"Without this fellow feeling, how are we to get 


enough patience and charity toward our stumbling, 
falling companions in the long and changeful 
journey? And there is but one way in which a 
strong, determined soul can learn it, by getting his 
heart-strings bound round the weak and erring, so 
that he must share, not only the outward conse- 
quence of their error, but their inward suffering." 
"They that are strong ought to bear the infirmities 
of the weak. There's a text that wants no candle 
to show it; it shines by its own light. It's plain 
enough you get into the wrong road in this life, 
if you run after this and that, only for the sake of 
making things easy and pleasant to yourself. If 
you've got a man's heart and soul in you, you can't 
be easy a making your own bed and leaving the rest 
to lie on the stones. I'll never slip my neck out of 
the yoke and leave the load to be drawn by the 
weak." "All the anguish of the children of men, 
which sometimes wraps me round like sudden dark- 
ness, I can bear with a willing pain, as if I were 
sharing the Redeemer's cross. For I feel it, I feel 
it, infinite love is suffering too; it yearns; it mourns; 
and that is a blind self-seeking which wants to be 
freed from the sorrow wherewith the whole creation 
groaneth and travaileth." That is a sweeter "sweet- 
ness" and a mellower "light" than Matthew Arnold 
dreams of and talks of. That is the spirit which is 
pervading modern literature more and more. It 
would encircle .with blessed sympathy all that suffer; 
it would fill with hope and exhiliration every dis- 
couraged soul that longs to rise to higher life and 

In the hall of Ticknor, the great publisher, there 
used to hang a picture, representing a young artist 


asleep, worn out with work and disappointment, 
while a hand from the clouds was pouring oil into 
the expiring lamp. It fitly typified the character of 
the noble author, his lifelong habit of encouraging 
any downcast youth, who was tempted to abandon 
a beautiful ideal for a sordid real. It represents 
also a disposition which is prevailing throughout the 
world of mind. 

The human race, which used to be swayed chiefly 
by the explosive is yielding to the dominion of the 
effusive. Good things still come down from above. 
Sufficient illustrations have been given of the spread 
of a gentle beneficence in what are known as the 
higher walks of life. It is slowly leavening all 
classes and conditions. Still, fact lags behind 
prophecy. But the lion and the lamb are yet to 
lie down together and be ruled by the spirit of 
the little child. This is written in the vision of 
Isaiah. It is emphasized in the Sermon on the 
Mount. It is the fundamental doctrine of Him that 
" came not to be ministered unto but to minister, and 
to give his life a ransom for many." It was the 
stress of that idea which brought Jesus to exchange 
God's throne for God's footstool. Oh, the sweet- 
ness of the story, of Him " mighty to save!" We 
recognize and admire its manifestation in the Re- 
deemer. We recognize and admire its imitation in 
the favored and the gifted. We hail it as the earnest 
of a millenium drawing near. But how few of us are 
bringing the doctrine home for daily application. We 
class ourselves among the weak, and not among the 
strong, and thus seek to excuse ourselves from duty. 
Instead of lifting we are waiting to be lifted; instead 


of sweetening the live of others, we are ^expecting 
them to sweeten ours. 

No might but God's is absolute. That of men is 
relative. The power of One only encircles the uni- 
verse. What shall we say of the most exalted human 
greatness, when we survey a pitiful spectacle like 
that the other year, beneath the rotunda at Wash- 
ington, and then looking up try to catch some van- 
ishing conception of that dome of the infinite where 
reigns from everlasting to everlasting the "King 
eternal, immortal, invisible!" When we make the 
contrast thus the verdict must be, "vanity of vanities, 
all is vanity." Yet, from that noble life, both in its 
vigor a % nd in its vanishing, has come to fifty millions 
a sweetness unknown since the great bitterness of 
the rebellion. 

Shorten the reach of thought. Mentor, Springfield, 
1865 and 1881, Lincoln and Garfield strength 
and sweetness for the republic. It is not very far 
from Mentor and Springfield to Jacksonville. Shall 
not the inspiration travel hither? . Here is no starry 
dome of firmament. Here is no glittering rotunda. 
Your life and mine may be vaulted very low, yet it 
has its outlook of shining possibilities. We are in- 
significant, when placed side by side with these illus- 
trious names. But there are those, in contrast with 
whom we are strong. With such, daily association 
makes us very familiar. 

Walk up and down this weary, suffering world, 
with eyes like Christ's. Let issue from your lives an 
influence so blessed, that, though you be not heralded 
as the great benefactors of the race, though your 
death produce no universal shock, though your fune- 
ral train be humble, though no splendid mausoleum 


mark your final resting place, there shall rise to 
God the silent testimony of sorrowing souls that 
you have comforted : Out of the strong came forth 
sweetness, as I was drinking of Marah's bitterness. 

My young brethren of the gradiiating class : While 
civilization in general is progressive, the conflict be- 
tween labor and capital, for a season, wages hotter 
and hotter. The poor grow poorer, the rich grow 
richer, in the great centers of population. The mis- 
sion of liberally educated men, during this genera- 
tion, should be to aid in quieting the antagonisms 
of society. 

Instead of standing aloof in the pride of superior 
culture; instead of seeking, within learning's secluded 
cloisters, to forget the world's wants and woes; in- 
stead of fanning into flame the passions of an igno- 
rant populace; instead of selling mind's most pre- 
cious gifts to the highest bidder in the temple of 
mammon, 'the alumni of our colleges should be the 
great peace-makers of our republic, patiently study- 
ing the situation, and impartially speaking, with the 
voice of authority, as the heralds of good will. 

The times demand that our institutions of learning 
shall give to the world more men of might, kingly 
men, to wield the sceptre in every realm of thought. 
The colleges must develop mental vigor and power. 
Recreant to duty is the instructor who fails to make 
that idea ever prominent in the class-room. But 
that does not justify the fostering of an intellectual 
aristocracy, or of a literary class which shall wall 
itself round with monasticism, or of an adroit body 
. of schemers who shall, for their own advancement, 
flatter the prejudices of an illiterate rabble upon the 


one side, or, upon the other, ally themselves with 
grasping and dangerous monopolies. 

A liberal education pre-eminently qualifies its pos- 
sessors, to act as blessed mediators among men. 

The commonwealth calls upon its colleges to pro- 
vide a " Third Estate," wise and benevolent, which 
shall hold the balance of power, and devote itself to 
the reconciliation of labor and capital, the highest 

interests of which are one and the same forever. 

Brethren^ are you going from us with a hand that 
clutches and. shuts up like the talons of a hawk ; or 
with an open palm, eloquent of beneficence? 

We have watched you adding increments of 
strength as the months have glided by. Some of 
you were well advanced upon the course, when you 
joined the class with which you graduate ; others 
have spent four years within the institution; while 
others, still, have struggled gallantly for twice that 
period, to overcome the pecuniary and physical ob- 
stacles which lay between you and a liberal educa- 
tion. Your instructors feel that they are not send- 
ing forth any of you as weaklings in the struggle of 
life. We anticipate, in every case, a fair measure of 
worldly success. Congratulating you on your cred- 
itable intellectual equipment, we rejoice still more 
in believing that no one is the slave of those vices 
which brutalize and destroy, that no one has at 
graduation a character less noble than at matricula- 
tion. There is not a man among you who would 
not stand this afternoon with uncovered head before 
the dignity of virtue and the beauty of holiness. 

It is a source of thanksgiving that a goodly num- 
ber depart from college bearing that name which is 


above every other. Pardon loving plainness of 
speech; would to God that, at this hour, I might 
strike hands with you all, as fellow-servants of Him 
whom I glory in calling Master and Lord. 

That were the very best pledge, that out of the 
college-bred " strength, should come forth sweet- 
ness" to the world. 


"Every one over against his own house." Nehemiah iii: 28. 

YOUR attention will be directed to the college 
application of the text, " Every one over against his 
own house." The immediate duty of economists, 
patriots and Christians in the Old West to the col- 
leges of the Old West ! 

Whether or not Greek be a college fetich, the 
college itself is not an American fetich. It has been, 
it is, and it is to be, a prime factor in our Christian 
civilization. The curriculum may be changed, but 
the college will stand. None question this concern- 
ing the well-endowed institutions of the East. The 
curriculum may be changed, but the college must be 
founded. None question this concerning the New 

But what shall be done in the Old West? Around 
this inquiry there gathers no more any halo of ro- 
mance, any enthusiasm of religion, any glamour of 
glory. The subject excites great confusion of 
thought and speech. First comes the cry, " The In- 
terior is founding too many colleges." That was 
true prior to 1870. But turn to the last report of the 
commissioner of education, and you will find that, 
for. the preceding seven years, only one college a 
year had been founded throughout the Republic. 
Ohio is the state worst afflicted with college mania. 
The disease has produced thirty-six institutions, but 
even there the malady is rapidly abating. There 


has been only one addition since 1875. Not a col- 
lege has been established in lo.wa since 1875, not 
one in Michigan or Minnesota since 1874, not one in 
Missouri since 1873, not one in Illinois since 1870, 
not one in Wisconsin or Indiana since 1867. I sub- 
mit it, as a proved case, that the evil is stopped, and 
that there is now no further ground for the charge 
that the Interior is founding too many colleges. 
That gun is spiked. 

Next is heard the complaint, " The Old West 
already has too many colleges." This cannot be 
denied, if you grant the name to every institution 
with a charter, paying no attention to its courses of 
study, to the number and attainments of its faculty, 
and to the amount of its endowment fund.s. But it 
would be an insult to an audience like this to enter 
upon a labored argument to prove that these three 
particulars must be considered, in deciding whether 
.an institution has any right to its title. Now, the 
eight states just mentioned constitute the Old West. 
To these the commissioner's report assigns one hun- 
dred and thirty-five colleges; when, however, you 
test them by curriculum, faculty and funds, not half 
deserve the name assumed. Were there time, I 
should be glad to take these eight states .in succes- 
sion, and demonstrate the assertion true of every 
one, but these minutes are too precious, and I must 
therefore confine your attention to a single state, 
and let that speak for all. Which state shall it be? 
Ohio, on the extreme east, is too old to be the repre- 
sentative of the section. Minnesota, on the .extreme 
west, differs from the rest in her system of educa- 
tion. Missouri, on the extreme south, is very unlike 

ive of the others. Illinois, in the centre, has more 


Clements common to all than any other. It is there- 
fore the fairest typical state. To this it adds the 
crowning * advantage of being the best known and 
best loved by the audience. 

Begin, then, with the curriculum test. Of the 
twenty-seven so-called colleges in Illinois, there is 
not one whose standard for admission is not half a 
year behind that of Harvard. Of the twenty-seven 
there may be six whose standard for admission is as 
high as that of Williams, Amherst, Dartmouth and 
Bowdoin. Of the twenty-seven, there may be six 
others whose graduates could -enter the senior class 
at Williams, Amherst, Dartmouth and Bowdoin. 
The graduates of the other fifteen would be prepared 
in a scattering way for the sophomore or junior class 
at Williams, Amherst, Dartmouth and Bowdoin. 
The fifteen are not colleges. 

Apply next the faculty test. The typical Interior 
college, with three years for a preparatory course 
and four years for a college course, furnishes daily 
twenty-one recitations of an hour each. Five pro- 
fessors will carry twenty of these, leaving to the 
president one daily recitation, one sermon on Sun- 
day, the routine of local administration and the gen- 
eral financial management. This is the smallest 
faculty that can do the regular work efficiently. 
There should be eight professors, to perform ordin- 
ary class-room duties vigorously, .and also to meet 
those calls for general literary services, which a col- 
lege constituency is constantly making, and which 
must be met, if the institution would have its power 
felt far and wide. 

On consulting the commissioner's report to apply 
this truth, I discovered that it did not give the data 


needed, as I compared statement with statement and 
with my personal knowledge of particular institu- 
tions. For example: an institution claiming sixteen 
professors and instructors, the largest faculty in the 
state, could not show a single endowed professorship 
or even a single dollar at interest. Moreover, not 
long before, one of the advertised professors in the 
same school told me that he had never heard a reci- 
tation, never delivered a lecture, and that he did not 
know that he belonged to the corps of instruction. 

Again: The report showed the total income of the 
same so-called college to be only $5,000. Deducting 
nothing for incidental expenses, which are always 
heavy, and appropriating the whole amount to sal- 
aries, you would have for each teacher an average of 
a little more than $300 a year. Such figures need 
no comment. Baffled in the inquiry in this direc- 
tion, I adopted another plan, to ascertain at how low 
a rate a competent faculty of five professors and a 
president could be secured. From correspondence 
with the authorities of ten of the best colleges of the 
interior, I found that the average salary of their pro- 
fessors was $1,400, and of their presidents, $2,000. 

That would make the necessary cost for instruc- 
tion $9,000. From $1,000 to $3,000 more would be 
demanded for other expenses. So that an income 
of from $10,000 to $12,000 would be the least with 
which respectable college requirements could be 
met. Only seven of our twenty-seven showed an 
income of at least $10,000. Only seven, therefore, 
had resources to carry on college work creditably. 
The candor of this treatment of the question is 
manifest from the statement that Illinois College 
was not one of the seven, in 1881, the year that the 


report was published. It was one of four others 
with an income of $8,000. Since then, however, it 
has brought its income up to $13,000 and is at length 
doing genuine college work, without encroaching 
upon its endowment funds for current expenses. So 
far as the writer knows, the other three are in the 
same critical condition as in 1881, either furnishing 
inferior instruction, on their legitimate revenue, or 
adequate instruction by consuming their capital, a 
plan which means first slow, then quick suicide. 
Viewed in this light, only from eight to eleven of the 
twenty-seven can possibly retain a faculty qualified 
to give the necessary instruction, so as to command 
the respect and attendance of young men. 

Look also at the question directly from the 
endowment ground. It is preposterous for an insti- 
tution, with no money at interest, to lay claim to the 
name of college in the latter part of the nineteenth 
century. Yet ten of the twenty-seven own no pro- 
perty except their site and buildings. They have all 
been in existence from fourteen to thirty years. If, 
in that time, they have not been able to put a dollar 
at interest, what are their prospects for the future ? 
Six have endowments ranging from $600 to $50,000; 
six, from $50,000 to $100,000; and five, from $100,000 
to $360,000. Now, any practical man, who has stu- 
died this subject patiently for years in the Interior, 
will say, without hesitation, that an institution with 
less than $100,000 of endowment, in addition to com- 
fortable buildings, is no't safe; that, possibly, one 
with less than $50,000 may struggle up to respectabil- 
ity; that between $50,000 and $100,000 possibility 
changes rapidly to probability; that at $100,000, with 
wise management, the crisis is past, and that, when 


an institution has $250,000 in plant and $250,000 at 
interest, its resources are ample for a very beneficent 
career. Applying this reasoning to our twenty- 
seven, we may write upon the charters of ten, can- 
celled; of six, forlorn hope; of six, brightening pros- 
pects; of five, victory, now, or by-and-by. 

Our three paths have led us to the same general 
conclusion, that less than half of the twenty-seven 
can live as colleges. 

What, then, shall we do with those that cannot? 
" Seek for them consolidation with the stronger 
institutions," is the reply most naturally suggested 
to the simply business man on the street, and to the 
mere theorist in his study ; but any one who has ex- 
perimental knowledge of the situation will answer,, 
" consolidation is an impossibility." This plan 
which some are advocating as a new idea is a very 
old idea. The plan has been tried, time and again, 
for the last forty years, and has proved a failure.- 

. This doctrine of college Nirvana, the absorption of 
the lesser by the greater, however beautiful in the 
abstract, refuses to take concrete form. Every one 
of our typical twenty-seven is eager to absorb,- but 
riot one of the twenty-seven will consent to be 
absorbed. And even if the institutions were ready 
to transfer property, give up name and surrender 
individuality, there would be insuperable obstacles 
of a local, legal and sectarian nature. Our Metho- 
dist brehren, whose system gives them more con- 
trol of their colleges than has any other denomina- 
tion, assure me that, much as they desire union in 
several cases, it can not be effected. 

We are not dealing with an deal state of affairs. 
As sensible men we must make the best of things as- 


they are. It behooves us to remember that we are 
working not in a millennium, but for a millennium. 
What then, is to be the fate of these weaker schools? 
Extinction? Not in many instances. They must, 
however, learn to die as colleges and live as acade- 
mies. The Interior needs academies, and there is 
no danger that they will be unduly multiplied. 
Most, perhaps all, of these institutions have re- 
sources enough to make them a great local blessing 
in this changed relation. So soon as they attain to 
dying grace as colleges, they will attain to living 
grace as academies. This will require time. There 
is a charm about the name of college, which will lead 
its unworthy possessors to cling to it to the last. 
But, as the contrast between their sham .selves and 
the colleges which are such in reality becomes more 
glaringly manifest, public ridicule will compel the 
adoption of a less pretentious appellation. 

We are now justified in dropping from further 
notice on the present occasion, half or two-thirds of 
our nominal colleges in the Interior. As mere, 
neighborhood schools, they should be left to the 
care of the neighborhoods in which they are located. 
This elimination simplifies the problem. We find 
that of our typical twenty-seven, eleven, from their 
standard of scholarship,' from the attainments of 
their instructors and from the amount of their pro- 
ductive capital, may properly be dignified as col- 
leges. Of these, only one, the Northwestern, at 
Evanston, is so amply endowed as to be free from 
embarrassment. Four have passed the crisis, but 
they are sadly crippled by lack of pecuniary re- 
sources. Six, though in peril, will probably survive 
the struggle for existence. What should be done 


with the eleven? At this point, we encounter some 
who maintain that there should be one college, and 
only one college' in a state. Without question, every 
state should have at least one institution devoted to 
the higher learning. That is a state privilege, a 
state right, the dignity of every commonwealth de- 
mands such a centre of mental and moral power. 

But is it not absurd to claim that a state like 
Rhode Island should have as many colleges as a 
state like Illinois? Rhode Island contains 1,000 
square miles, Illinois, 56,000 square miles. Rhode 
Island counts a population of a quarter of a million, 
Illinois, of three millions. The number of institu- 
tions should be decided by three considerations, 
extent and nature of territory, population and char- 
acter of population. Let us now apply these con- 
siderations: New England sustains seventeen col- 
leges. None of them could well be spared. The 
weaker are proportionately as valuable as the 
stronger. The finest service is not necessarily ren- 
dered by the richest college. Said ex-president 
Woolsey, to a friend of the writer: " Had I my life 
to live over, I would cast in my lot with one of the 
smaller institutions. I could have more influence in 
training mind and shaping character." Said presi- 
dent Seelye to another friend of the writer: " Our 
classes are growing so unwieldy that they lessen our 
efficiency." It is better that the four thousand col- 
lege students proper in New England should be 
scattered among seventeen institutions, than that 
there should be only six colleges with seven hun- 
dred students each. It is better for the young men 
themselves. It is better for New England herself. 

Now,, the area of New. England is to that of 


Illinois as seven to six. So far as mere territory . is 
concerned, claiming nothing for the richness of our 
soil, if New England needs seventeen colleges Illi- 
nois needs fifteen. The population of New England 
is to that of Illinois as four to three. So far as popu- 
lation is concerned, if New England needs seventeen 
colleges, Illinois needs thirteen. Should exception 
be taken to the character of our population, you 
may be astonished to learn from the commissioner's 
report that the illiteracy, the inability to write, in 
New England, between the ages of fifteen and 
twenty, the college period, is five per cent.; while in 
Illinois it is less than four per cent. Still it cannot 
be denied that there is a higher culture among the 
upper classes there, which would naturally produce 
more college material than you would look for here. 
Yet the difference is not great. There are in the 
collegiate departments there four thousand students, 
here two thousand. When, however, you remember 
that New England keeps her material at home and 
also draws freely from abroad, while Illinois sends 
'her material freely eastward and gets none in return, 
you will be convinced that Illinois is falling but 
little behind all New England in the number that 
she matriculates somewhere. 

These three lines of argument justify the conclu- 
sion that, should eleven of our colleges be main- 
tained, they would not be too numerous for the pre- 
sent, much less for the prospective educational 
wants of a state which will contain a population of 
four millions before the year 1900. 

Glance now at the question of economy. We 
hear a constant clamor about the comparative edu- 
cational extravagance of the Interior. The large 


attendance at an eastern institution is contrasted 
with the small attendance at a western institution. 
Harvard does have fourteen hundred students in all 
departments, while the average attendance in all de- 
partments at Illinois colleges is only one hundred 
and seventy^ But Harvard has one hundred and 
twenty-eight instructors, one for every eleven stu- 
dents, while the average number of instructors for 
Illinois colleges is ten, one for every seventeen stu- 
dents. There is widespread ignorance of the fact 
that the larger the number of students in an institu- 
tion the larger relatively is the number of instruc- 
tors. I repeat it: Harvard pays one teacher for 
every eleven students, while the Interior colleges 
pay one teacher for every seventeen students. The 
bearing on the question of comparative economy is 

But we must hasten to the teachings of patriotism. 
The Mississippi valley is destined to be, in mater- 
ial resources, the richest section of the Union. 
Shall it be abandoned, intellectually, as the Great 
American Desert? Shall brain withdraw, giving up 
the Interior to brawn and bullion? No. Save these 
institutions of liberal learning, to leaven society, and 
to give tone to civilization. A region destitute of col^ 
leges or possessing colleges so weak as to incur gen- 
eral contempt, will inevitably grow coarse in its 
tastes and sordid in its ambitions. But let there be 
an institution worthy of the name, within a hundred 
miles of every household, and it flashes vividly be- 
fore the mind of every child a high ideal of culture, 
character and life, inspiring parents also to seek for 
the realization of that ideal in those whom they love. 
The presence' of even these poverty-stricken colleges 


of the Old West has aroused to a desire for know- 
ledge, and has led to graduation thousands who, but 
for that presence, would have been quickened to no 
such longing, much less have been able to enjoy its 
gratification. There can be no more forcible protest 
against a grovelling animalism than the sight of an 
ingenuous band of youth zealously devoted to cul- 
ture and to all that gives manhood its crowning 

It passes comprehension, how men who owe all 
that they have and all that they are to a state like, 
this, will turn a deaf ear to the calls of struggling 
institutions near at hand, and either do nothing for 
enterprises which bless society and render life rich 
and precious, or help to swell the endowments of 
far away colleges worth from one million to five mil- 
lions, and will, furthermore, send their sons east to 
get an education, to come back full of contempt for 
" fresh-water colleges," and to belittle all efforts to 
sweeten arid brighten and gladden the social, mental 
and moral order of the commonwealth. 

Citizens of the Old West ought to put both their 
money and their boys into the colleges of the Old 
West. We need a revolution on the doctrine of 
State's Rights in Education. In this, he serves his 
country best who serves his state the best. Train 
the home boy in the home college. During the 
formative period, cultivate in him local attachments, 
enthusiasm in whatever pertains to the honor and 
dignity of his native state. When he is more 
mature, if you would give him special studies, which 
are not yet taught here, or if you would make his 
tastes mc-re cosmopolitan, let him have a post-gradu- 
ate course of one or two years at the east) or upon 


the continent. Thus will he be qualified for more 
contented, hearty, vigorous citizenship in the Inter- 
ior, than if you should send him, a callow youngster 
of sixteen or eighteen, to four years of exile at Yale 
or Harvard. 

Religion emphasizes the same doctrine. Under- 
mine the Christian college and you undermine the 
Christian church. Let the Christian college languish, 
and the Christian church will languish. If you 
would strengthen the Christian churches of the 
^Interior, endow and patronize the Christian colleges 
of the Interior, binding churches and colleges to- 
gether, not ecclesiastically, but spiritually, in the 
name of Father, Son and Holy Ghost. This ques- 
tion is of vital importance to pew and to pulpit. The 
larger the educated membership, the greater the 
efficiency of a church. Religion in bidding farewell 
to learning, degenerates into fanaticism. 

The connection of liberally trained men with a 
church gives wisdom in council, enriches the prayer- 
meeting, incites the pastor and commands the res- 
pect of the world. 

Such members hold the balance of power between 
poverty and wealth, and mediate between those ex- 
tremes, which produce antagonism in religious as 
well as in social organizations. The natural way to 
bring these influential elements into the home 
church, is to educate our sons in the home college, 
where they will be trained in generous sympathy 
with the demands of Christian civilization in the In- 

The very smallness of a college strong enough to 
insure respect, gives it an intellectual and spiritual 
supremacy over young men, which the great univer- 


sity loses by its very greatness. Small classes bring 
their members individually under the mental and 
religious influence of consecrated instructors, as is 
not possible where classes number from one hundred 
to two hundred, though teachers be equally earnest 
Christian men. Revivals are more numerous, pro- 
babilities of conversion are greater, and the percent- 
age of candidates for the ministry is much higher, in 
the smaller colleges than in the larger. This does 
not, however, prove either the unsoundness, or the 
unfaithfulness of the faculties in the latter. It grows 
out of the nature of things. The Great Teacher him- 
self recognized this limit of personal influence. He 
understood spiritual dynamics. He did not choose 
a class of a hundred, but a class of only twelve, when 
he would, by intimate association, day after day, 
possess disciples with his doctrine, and fill them with 
that enthusiasm of humanity which should revolu- 
tionize the world. 

One Sunday evening a few weeks ago, I was wan- 
dering alone in the moonlight, among the buildings 
of Harvard University. 

How painfully insignificant seemed these little 
colleges of the Interior. But then came the thought, 
this is not the place for our boys of eighteen. This 
should be the resort for men of twenty-five men 
who no longer need the personal interest and frater- 
nal counsel of the self-sacrificing teacher men who 
are old enough to be their own masters and to make 
their own choices independently men who are quali- 
fied to exchange the class-room for the lecture-room, 
men who are ready to devote themselves to special- 
ties and systems, caring only for the erudition of in- 
structors, the treasures of science, art and literature, 


and all those stimulating associations which, from 
such surroundings, inspire one who knows at length 
what he wants to be and do in the world; but the 
best place for our boys of eighteen is. some humble 
college like Knox, or Beloit, or Olivet, where they 
shall be personally watched over, as younger breth- 
ren, by a Bateman, or an Emerson, or a Butterfield. 

If the Old West would have educated and conse- 
crated men in the pews and in the pulpits of her 
churches, let her come to the rescue of her colleges. 
The demands are not exorbitant. The cry of these 
institutions is, " Give us neither poverty nor riches." 
A college does its most blessed service in moulding 
the character of students, and in imparting moral 
tone and vigor to society, when it is not either 
cramped for pecuniary resources, or " rich and in- 
creased in goods." An institution is like a man. It 
must have a certain amount of capital to give it effi- 
ciency and consequent respect. Beyond that there 
is danger that abounding wealth will produce pride 
and a general worldliness, quenching that profound- 
ly religious spirit which has made our colleges foun- 
tains of refreshment to the republic and to Thy 
Kingdom, God. 

As economists, as patroits, and as Christians, we 
ought to pursue this eclectic plan, to select such a 
number of these institutions as the Interior demands, 
and as have earned the right to the name which they 
claim, and endow them immediately according to 
their necessities. 

The president of an Eastern university, which is 
worth $5,000,000, still pleads its poverty. But the 
question of this hour is not of grand universities. It 
confines itself to humble colleges, which, do not as- 


pire to be universities, but which do seek to become 
colleges in all respects worthy of the name. An in- 
crease to half a million each, $250,000 in plant and 
$250,000 at interest, would put every such institution 
into admirable working order. But if only an in- 
crease to $250,000 at interest could be straightway 
secured, local and personal attachment would be so 
stimulated as to provide the increase in plant, -at no 
distant day. Therefore, swell to a quarter of a mil- 
lion the endowment fund of every college in the Old 
West which has at least $100,000 thus secured. Up 
and down the Mississippi Valley, let the rally cry 

Young Gentlemen of the Graduating Class: Very 
different was the baccalaureate address first planned 
for this occasion. But I finally concluded that the 
best service which I could render both you and the 
institution, would be, to give, as a graduating lesson, 
this discourse upon the colleges of the dear Old 
West, which I hope will always be your home. You 
are not the sons of wealth. You have no great for- 
tunes to consecrate to any beneficent enterprise. 
The rich young men are usually sent to the rich col- 
leges of the East. That centers their interest, and 
the interest of their fathers, in institutions far away. 
This is one of the chief causes of our poverty. As a 
rule, our graduates come from families in moderate 
.or even straitened circumstances. However loyal 
they and their sires may be, the pecuniary ability to 
do is limited. 

It is one special mission of these meagerly endow- 
ed colleges of the Interior to awaken, among the less 
affluent, a passion for the higher learning, and .to 
put within their reach facilities for its gratification. 


That special mission is our joy, but it is also our 
embarrassment; for it brings but little of this world's 
glitter and still less of its gold. 

Have we not then a right to expect, that whoever 
takes a diploma, will take with it a solemn pledge, to 
give all his influence from that day, and to devote a 
portion of his earnings from that day to the service 
of his Alma Mater? 

For several seasons there was a nest in one of the 
old trees on College Hill. The first spring it was 
only a handful of twigs. But the chicks of that 
summer came back full grown, the next year, and 
the nest grew larger, and was better woven together 
with bits of thread and twine. And when the third 
generation returned, they added still more to the 
structure, and lined it with wool, and cotton, and 
silk, and down. 

What shall be said of the fledgling that drops out 
of the college nest with a thud, and a cry against the 
hardness of those dry old sticks. Rather take wirig 
with a song and fly back, by-and-by, to enlarge 
and to beautify. 

Figure and fact combine to suggest an omen in 
the sky. Shall it not be interpreted to mean the 
devotion of class after class to the college on the 

One of your number is the son of a member of my 
class of '57. He is the first boy from that class to 
graduate; and as the eye runs over the present list 
of under-graduates, all the boys from the class of 
'57 who are studying in college anywhere, are study- 
ing here. The example is worthy of imitation, now, 
and in the years to come. 

But forecast, however cheerful, has its strain of 


apprehension. This concerns alike the institution 
and her sons. The greatest danger to her and to 
you, my friends, is the lack of religious consecration. 
We are content with what has been done for you, 
intellectually, and with what you have done for 
yourselves, intellectually. We do not fear that you 
will ever recall any great, inexcusable neglect, on 
either side, in that direction. 

But there is how shall I word it delicately, yet 
honestly there is a sense of dissatisfaction at the 
spiritual outcome, as we stand here face to face! 
Four years condensed into one moment, before God. 
Boys, are you quite satisfied yoiirselves? 


" Arise, therefore, and be doing and the Lord be with thee." 
I Chronicles, xxii: 16. 

ONE generation soweth that another generation 
may reap. Such is God's law for the enrichment of 
the race. Viewed in the abstract, the principle 
shows only a beneficent face; but, when applied in- 
dividually, it exhibits some features of hardship. 

You never read the story of which the text is a 
portion, without finding the heart going out very 
tenderly to David, over the great disappointment of 
his life. Like Moses, he was brought to the border 
line of his fondest hopes, but not permitted to cross 
that line. Like Moses, he made everything ready 
for the use and enjoyment of his successor. 

Still, in our final estimate, he stands far higher, 
because of his patient and unselfish preparation of 
the materials for Solomon to put into the temple, 
than he would have done, had he not himself given 
up all idea of rearing that magnificent structure. 
Nobler than the victory of the shepherd lad over 
the Philistine giant, was the victory of the shepherd 
king over himself, when he was able to say, without 
a single rebellious thought, "Arise, therefore, and be 
doing, and the Lord be with thee." 

We can not turn to the theme of the afternoon, 
without at least this passing allusion to the struggle and 
the triumph, within the breast of him who uttered 
the text. This brief tribute, however, must suffice; 


for our present concern is with the son, rather than 
with the father. 

Like Solomon, we are all debtors to the past. It 
brings its treasures of various sorts very freely for 
our appropriation. There is a long period, during 
which we are, in the main, beneficiaries. Our at- 
titude ought to be one of gratitude. So far, we 
can claim no credit. We are responsible, however, 
for putting ourselves into the best receptive con- 
dition. While David was accumulating the cedar, 
iron, brass, silver and gold for his successor, the 
latter kept himself in careful training, so that he 
might wisely, discharge the future trust. Such 
thankful receptivity becomes us all, in view of our 
heritage from the by-gone. No princely portion 
comes to us, separately, as it did to Solomon, but all 
have a rich legacy in the physical comforts, the in- 
tellectual acquisitions, and the spiritual benefactions, 
which the ages have left as a general contribution to 
mankind. We are invited to appropriate these 
reverently, but without hesitation, that we may fit 
ourselves to stand in our lot, and, in turn, contribute 
our portion to the heritage of those who shall come 
after. But when this period of comparative absorp- 
tion is past, we hear the command ring out loud and 
clear, "Arise and be doing." The general nature of 
the injunction is the same for both secular and religi- 
ous activities. The soul must be up and on the 
watch. It can not slumber on in the cabin any more, 
trusting to the pilotage of others. It must be on 
deck and in command for itself. There may be here 
and there a person whose "strength it is to sit still," 
but such exceptions can not overthrow the well nigh 
universal rule. 


Accordingly the first stress falls upon the word 
"Arise." Thus we take the attitude which gives the 
best control of every faculty. Plant a man upon his 
feet if you would secure for him the highest respect. 
A message delivered from a recumbent position 
lacks authority. A speech pronounced in a sitting 
posture may have a certain conversational grace, but 
it is shorn of oratorical power. Standing, in the 
presence of others, is often interpreted as only a 
token of respect for them; but it has a deeper mean- 
ing. Subjectively viewed, it signifies the laying 
aside of indolence; it signifies alertness of body and 
mind, tense muscle, excited brain. Objectively 
viewed, it imparts a commanding dignity, which 
half wins the battle, and insures a certain momentum 
which completes the victory. William of Normandy 
tripped and fell as he leaped ashore on the English 
coast. He lay prostrate for an instant, an object of 
derision; but, so soon as he sprang to his feet, and 
with his right hand flung to the winds the sands of 
the beach, friend and foe, saw in him William, the 
Conqueror. The picture was a prophecy. 

Humility, by derivation, means lying on the 
ground. It is one of the Christian graces. There 
are times and places, when and where, it is most ap- 
propriate. But we should not stick in the literal. 
The spirit of the virtue is consistent with erectness, 
vigor, enthusiasm. Humility should never be con- 
founded with a dawdling supineness. The latter is 
an offence to men; much more must it be to angels 
and to God himself. 

Moreover, one must arise to get a correct general 
view of the situation. The psalmist does speak of 
happy communings with himself in the night 


watches, but most of us cannot testify to such ex- 
periences. Whatever we study thus becomes dis- 
torted. Difficulties bulk up and bright possibilities 
dwindle and fade, as the hours drag wearily along. 
Not until we arise do things assume relative propor- 
tion. With body prostrate on a sleepless couch in 
the darkness, the mind loses the power of discrimi- 
nation. Unnatural physical conditions produce a 
species of temporary mental derangement. Now, 
while such experiences are distressing, there are day 
reveries which, though agreeable, are equally unnat- 
ural. These sink difficulties out of sight and be- 
wilder with fancied achievements. We sometimes 
seek to balance the forebodings of the night by 
these dreams of the day. Both habits are alike per- 

It is said of Frederick William of Prussia, that he 
was always getting his legions ready for battles 
which were never to come off. We are guilty of 
even worse folly, in anticipating by night disasters 
which never befall us, and by day, magnificent 
things beyond our sphere. The king had at least 
the satisfaction of knowing that his forces were bet- 
ter disciplined; but with us the practice only demora- 
lizes our faculties, and renders us more and more 
helpless in the presence of such foes as we must en- 
counter. Yet, important as it is to assume that at- 
titude which will enable us to sweep the most ex- 
tended horizon of possibilities, and to occupy the 
most favorable position in relation to those possi- 
bilities, we must not permit ourselves to pause there 
too long. While a comprehensive survey of the 
situation and a wise adjustment to its demands are 
essential, there may be a temptation to remain 


stationary, when the hour has come for action. In 
marking time we may march, and yet not forward 

In the text the words " be doing" follow the word 
" arise " immediately. The verse itself is nervous. 
Its very structure suggests energy as the first character- 
istic of the " doing." That word " energy" signifies 
from its derivation and composition, that one must 
be wholly in his work. To some extent this has been 
the secret of success throughout history, but it be- 
comes increasingly so with every added century. As 
civilization grows complex, competition is made 
fiercer. The enterprises which come to the front 
and stay there, do so by the consumption of person- 
al energy. The fire-box must be kept full of fuel, 
that the cylinders may have plenty of steam for 
traction and velocity. This principle applies as thor- 
oughly to religious as it does to secular mechanics 
and dynamics. There are supernatural elements in 
spiritual movements, but they do not take the place 
of human energy. A Wycliffe and a Luther must 
heed this fact, no less than a Galileo and a Newton. 
So far the minister has no advantage of the mer- 
chant. The Master's business will not thrive with- 
out crowding, any better than the business of his 
humblest servant. 

We need also to guard against waste of energy. 
In our best engines we get only about twenty per 
cent, out of our coal. The rest is lost, that is lost for 
the purposes intended. Nature doubtless uses the 
other eighty per cent, somewhere and somehow, but 
man is not entitled to the credit. We are even less 
successful in economizing spiritual forces. They 
escape in all directions. God probably employs 


them for wise purposes under his government, yet 
to us no thanks are due. Instead of remembering 
that one safety-valve is enough, we multiply valves, 
leave them all open, and then wonder that so little 
is accomplished. In the natural world we recognize 
the power of concentration. The only way to make 
the Mississippi clear itself, is through the jetties. 
But in the spiritual world, instead of strengthening 
the jetties, we cut the levees, and then charge dis- 
asters to the mysteries of Providence. 

The " be doing" of the text contemplated neither 
waste nor aimlessness. Solomon was lavish in his 
use of materials, but he squandered nothing, he 
made every bit of wood and metal tell toward the 
realization of one grand plan. Men adopt system 
in everything else, and then let religious activities go 
at haphazard. Some entertain the notion that a 
sharply defined method has about it an air of self- 
sufficiency, which must be displeasing to the Most 
High. Certain facts and utterances in the New 
Testament, which were local and temporary in their 
intention, have been forced into unwarranted uses. 
In the first emergencies and crises of the Church, 
the Apostles were re-assured by the promise of such 
an interposition of the Holy Spirit as would render 
premeditation, on their part, unnecessary. Full 
divine illumination, the instant it was needed, was 
pledged to take the place of forethought in speech 
and prayer. Hence, to this day, not a few falsely 
conclude that sermons and especially addresses to 
the throne of grace should have no preparation; 
that all should be left to immediate divine sugges- 
tion, that everything studied must be artificial and 
odius to heaven. A more careful examination of 


the Sacred Record would correct this mistake. It 
would show, even in the case of Christ and His im- 
mediate followers, the greatest economy of the mir- 
aculous. Natural agencies were made to take the 
place of the supernatural, as rapidly as possible- 
There may still be special instances in which we may 
properly look for special aid from heaven, when we 
are to be peculiarly absorbed in momentous affairs. 
There was appropriateness in the prayer of the 
Christian general as the battle opened: " Lord, 
thou knowest how busy I must be this day. If I 
forget thee, do not thou forget me march on, 
boys! " But, in all the regular religious affairs of 
life, where time and opportunity are given for the 
use of our own faculties, the presumption lies, not in 
the employment of those faculties, but in indolently 
trusting to God to bring us through. " Be doing" 
is heaven's imperative. 

Moreover, the doing must be continuous. It may 
be remittent, but it should not be intermittent ; just 
as the . tides rise and fall, yet keep up movement 
without ceasing. There is a law of action and re-ac- 
tion in spiritual affairs, which we must respect, and 
which God himself respects. It is a fine secret, to 
know how to relax and adjust the tension, to keep it 
always on, and yet never let it break. We suffer 
greatly from spasmodic action, followed by collapse. 
He accomplishes most, who never lets go the thread 
of his purpose, but steadily weaves it in, now rapid- 
ly, now slowly, according to the changing conditions 
in himself and in his environment. In such cease- 
less effort, sundry cautions should be observed. Let 
unhealthy competition be avoided. There is a con- 
stant tendency to measure ourselves against one 


another, to try to outstrip somebody else, to be un- 
duly elated, when we are a length or two ahead, and 
to be unduly depressed when we find ourselves drop- 
ping behind. This vice gets into church politics, as 
well as into state politics. It is also a constantly 
disturbing element in the sphere of private Christian 
life. Any pastor will tell you that this is one of the 
most perplexing things to regulate among his flock, 
to keep all running, and yet keep them running in 
different directions, so that nobody is ahead, and 
everybody is ahead. He is pretty well on toward 
perfection, who is able to keep his eye steadily upon 
the goal, without ever looking out of one corner of 
his eye, to see whether somebody else is not coming 
up alongside. How many in this audience can tes- 
tify that they have attained unto that? 

Not so bad, but still to be avoided, is the practice 
of running Christian races with one's self. It is 
well, now and then, to compare ourselves with our 
former selves. This will give us wholesome reproof, 
and, also, wholesome encouragement. But that is a 
very different thing from apprehensively weighing 
every performance by its predecessor. Such a prac- 
tice makes one morbid and feverish and incapaci- 
tates him for the best achievement. The energy 
which is spent upon the anxiety to do one better so 
enfeebles, that you do one worse instead. 

The doing which satisfies the text is of a different 
sort. The rule should be, to do our best under the 
circumstances every time, without any comparison 
with previous occasions. Pardon a personal allu- 
sion, as it illustrates the principle. It was my privi- 
lege, for fourteen or fifteen years, to preach to a 
congregation of insane people. I used to try every 



Sunday to make as good a sermon as I was able, for 
those unfortunates. Friends often laughed at me 
for wasting my pains. But the only way to the 
hearts of those suffering men and women was such 
laborious proof that I was trying to minister unto 
them, to serve them. There was a constant satisfac- 
tion in the effort, and then, when the pressure of 
other duties forced me to resign the charge, I found 
that, without knowing it, I had all along been doing 
the best thing for myself, in establishing that habit 
of work, and in getting the soul into sympathy with 
all forms of heart-ache and wild woe a possession 
forever. Continuous doing always enlarges the 
knowledge, the ability and the sphere for doing. 

Let these activities likewise be cheerful. There is 
a strong strain of duty in our English blood, and 
that is well. " What are your orders, if you are 
killed?" said an officer to Wellington. Replied he, 
" Do as I am doing. Remember old England." In 
New England, in the council chamber, on the dark 
day when all thought that the end of the world had 
come, said Colonel Davenport: "The day of judg- 
ment is approaching, or it is not. If it is not, there 
is no cause for adjourning. If it is, I want to be 
found doing my duty. Bring in the candles." 

Such utterances are grandly heroic. No better 
stimulant can be taken for low moral tone. Still 
they accord better with Waterloos and solar eclipses 
than with petty conflicts, under the light of common 
day. Over the latter they cast too grim a shadow. 
Our " doing" ought to be done with brighter faces 
and cheerier speech. Opportunities for stage effect 
are very limited. The theatres for our acting. are 
the home, the school, the forum, the shop, the farm 


and the street. Our part is to be doing, with a glad- 
ness which shines in the countenance and makes the 
tongue musical. That is the spirit which should per- 
vade every Christian psalm of life. Give us, O 
God, more enthusiasm, more of thyself within the 
soul, for its transfiguration before the world. 

Religion may live without enthusiasm; but it can- 
not propagate itself without enthusiasm. From this 
it gets virility. You cannot point to any vigorous 
enterprise of learning or philanthropy or Christian- 
ity which is not kept moving by those whose hearts 
drive warm blood, with every throb, into some part 
of the organization. Churches languish, noble char- 
ities languish, colleges languish, because they fall a 
prey to the miserable spirit of routine. When the 
minister's spiritual pulse beats feebly, and he plans, 
perfunctorily, to get through with two sermons on 
Sunday and a mid- week prayer-meeting,the preaching 
grows thin and the congregation thinner, the prayer 
grows cold and the prayer-meeting colder; till the 
church thermometer marks zero. Benevolent 
organizations lose the first love of their founders, 
and fall into the hands of managers whose benevo- 
lence is all nepotism, managers who fit up sinecures 
for themselves, their children and their grand-chil- 
dren, and thus, with the family sponge, absorb the 
revenues intended for the poor and the unfortunate. 
Teachers neglect preparation for recitation. . The 
hour becomes insipid to them and to their classes. 
They watch for the striking of the clock. They are 
more eager than pupils for holidays. They grow to 
live less and less for term time, and more and more 
for vacation. September is somber, June brings 


The same demoralizing tendency is manifest in all 
vocations. Lack of enthusiasm in whatever is wor- 
thy means the absence of God therefrom. 


The text concludes with the words, " The Lord be 
with thee." The way and the only way to insure 
His presence, is to "arise and be doing," in the 
spirit inculcated this evening. Such consecration is 
vital. Out of it are the very issues of life, life ever- 

Add to diligence in business, this fervency of 
spirit, and you can never labor alone and in vain. 
Take this doctrine back to your toil, of whatsoever 
sort it be. The sweetest, richest, most blessed ex- 
perience on earth is that of working thus for God 
and with God. 

Young Gentlemen of the Class 0/1885: Commence- 
ment day is always an occasion of thanksgiving. 
Sometimes it is merely thanksgiving for deliverance, 
resembling that which gladdens the schoolboy, on 
Friday evening, or at the close of the term. Gener- 
ally, however, in addition to that sense of relief 
which is natural on the completion of any round of 
duties, the soul becomes aware of a new birth of 
gratitude. A student never really learns to look 
backward, until the day of his graduation. That is 
a curious fact. You may get an inkling of my mean- 
ing, this afternoon; for this address is the initial 
formula of separation from the institution. There is 
a loosening of the cords that have till the present 
hour bound you to the college community. Hitherto 
you have been regarded bv your fellow students as 
comrades, entitled to the same rights and subject to 
the same restrictions. You have been questioned 


from the teacher's desk and spoken to from the pul- 
pit on the same plane with other undergraduates. 

But, now, the classes move forward. Other Sen- 
iors are taking your places. You are crowded out. 
The ordinary relation of instructor and pupil ceases. 
The sermon of the day, by anticipation, brings spe- 
cial greeting unto you as " Baccalaurei." As you 
stand here the fact that you are with us, but, in the 
old sense, not of us any more, begins to shape itself 
in consciousness. It is a still hour. Softer airs are 
playing. Memory touches a single tremolo strain. 

But you will understand this far better on Thurs- 
day, when you take your diploma and your flowers, 
and go off by yourself, and sit down alone face to 
face with the question, " What next? " The harder 
you try to explore futurity, the more you will be 
forced to look backward. You will regret that you 
have neglected some things. You will be glad that 
you have escaped some things. Your appreciation 
of many things will be quickened. The result 
should be a reverent gratitude, till then unknown. 
At such a season, none but a coarse, depraved na- 
ture could fail to recognize its debt to the past. 

A profound thankfulness should characterize every 
young man who has had the privilege of spending 
six or seven years in liberalizing study. He does not 
yet know much; but he has been trained to know, 
and to do, and to be, according to the measure of 
his faculties. His power of vision has been cultivated. 
He sees what God has accomplished through human 
agencies in the lapse of time. He is impressed with 
the obligations which the generation present is un- 
der to the generations past. He exults in the 


thought, that he is welcome to the priceless treas- 
ures of the ages, according to his capacity to re- 
ceive. Such devout gratitude is the noblest incen- 
tive to " be up and doing." It takes the selfishness 
out of ambition, and inspires one to make as large 
as possible his little' contribution to the well-being 
of man and the glory of the Creator. There is no 
legal compulsion. The youth may take all and give 
none. The future does not present to him any or- 
der on demand signed by the past. There is in the 
case no urgency except moral urgency, but, with an 
ingenuous character, that is irresistible. So may it 
prove with every one of you. 

Your course during the year now closing justifies 
the belief that this will not be a fruitless petition. 
You remember that one day last September, I set 
before you the proper relation of a Senior Class to 
an institution of learning, and asked your quiet co- 
operation with the faculty, in promoting whatever 
pertained to college well-being. This was urged, as 
a matter of duty and of privilege. The appeal met 
a hearty response, and to your unobtrusive but mani- 
fest sympathy with sobriety and manly endeavor, 
should be credited not a little of the year's peace 
and prosperity. Carry your class characteristic 
from college to citizenship. " And the Lord be 
with you." Believe me, this is not a formal benedic- 
tion. Your general attitude respecting the good 
and the true, has given you among your fellow-stu- 
dents the humorous appellation of the "Twelve 
Apostles." The term does not bear with it any 
suggestion of cant and hypocrisy, or of alarming 
saintliness. It is simply a good-natured recognition 
of your moral standing. As such it is a high honor. 


In this sense, may there be a large apostolic succes- 
sion among these undergraduates. 

Pardon one word more. Most of you acknow- 
ledge Christ as Master and Lord. It is just half a 
century since the first class went forth from the in- 
stitution. It has been my most earnest wish, my 
most constant prayer, that this fiftieth anniversary 
might see every one of you, not almost, but alto- 
gether Christian. Nothing less will express the 
meaning which now surcharges the words: " The 
Lord be withy oil." 


"As he thinketh in his heart, so is he." Proverbs, xxiii: 7. 

THOUGHT makes character. This statement does 
not pass unchallenged. Many criticise it, as too 
sweeping an assertion. Substitute modifies for 
"makes," and they would subscribe to the proposi- 
tion. Should you ask them: " what then does make 
character?" you would get different replies. Some 
would answer: heredity. Man lives and dies what 
he was born. If you could tell the tendencies with 
which the infant was first laid in the cradle, you 
could infallibly predict, what the moral nature of the 
adult would be, when his body was laid in the 

Take from the veins of the newly-born babe a few 
drops of blood, and an exhaustive analysis would 
give you a picture of the soul, with the spiritual 
lineaments which it must wear forever. Logical 
consistency will drive the most radical advocates of 
the doctrine of heredity to such pre-natal fatalism. 

When led away from general declamation, to face 
these specific statements and their consequences, 
some admit that they did not realize the meaning of 
their rhetoric, and retreat from their position; others 
seek to cover their confusion with a still freer use of 
figures of speech; while others, still, put on a bold 
face, and declare this to be the ground on which they 
are going to fight out the question. 

Now, so far as my experience extends, while I 


find authors who maintain this extreme position, on 
the printed page in general terms, I have never met 
an individual who would affirm, concerning himself, 
that his character was fixed before his birth, that its 
essential features were settled by his ancestors, and 
that all he had ever had the power to do, was to 
change, in some slight degree, those traits which 
had been forced upon him as an inexorable portion, 
by preceding generations. Pursue the Socratic 
method. Crowd the question out of the abstract.. 
Make it concrete. Apply it rigidly to the individ- 
ual, and you will not find, in the whole circuit of 
your acquaintance, a single person who will squarely 
maintain that what he is to-day morally, is essenti- 
ally the necessary product of his inheritance. Con- 
sciousness when brought upon the stand and com- 
pelled to testify without qualification or subterfuge,, 
invariably answers Nay! Nay! 

Consciousness, thus interrogated, is the only com- 
petent and trustworthy witness. But, while we reject 
the extreme views on heredity which we discover in 
some so-called scientific treatises, let us not, in a 
spirit of intolerance, refuse to admit the legitimate 
claims of the doctrine. It cannot be denied that 
character is always modified by inherited tendencies. 
This may be granted without subscribing to any 
form of necessity or fatalism, without abandoning 
the perfect freedom of the individual will, in making 
the individual character. Indeed, there is no other 
way of rendering the supremacy of volition so con- 
spicuous, as to emphasize the power of heredity, and 
then demonstrate its subordination to the higher 

The predispositions with which we enter the 


world are subtle and mighty in their influence. They 
give great weight to certain probabilities. Still 
there is never an instance, in which the current may 
not be made to flow the other way. Due East may 
not be changed to due West. There may remain 
some traces of the original set of the stream, some 
Eastings, but the prevailing direction may be made- 
Westerly. That which started for the Atlantic will, 
thus empty into the Pacific, though the Primary im- 
petus may swing the river far Northward or South- 
ward, before it finds its mouth. 

In the game of life heredity plays a strong hand, 
but volition always holds a trump card. If volition 
is beaten, it is from neglect, and not from necesssity. 

In the next place, we meet those who yield the 
point just discussed, who grant that character is not 
fixed by those tendencies with which we are born; 
but who maintain that it is settled, by the physical 
environment into which we are born. Henry Thomas 
Buckle first popularized this idea, iri his History of 
Civilization, by the prominence which he assigned 
to climate, soil, food and the aspects of nature, in 
shaping human destiny. There are now-a-days a 
great many little Buckles, who give the doctrine a 
rigid application, possibly never intended by their 
great master. At all events, his disciples would use 
the principle, to overthrow the idea of moral respon- 
sibility. They claim that notions of right and 
wrong which would be considered binding at the 
Arctic Circle, all melt away under the heat of the 
Tropics; that the system of ethics where men have 
plenty to eat would lose all constraining power in 
regions where famines are common; that ideas 
which flourish at high altitudes amid stimulating 


scenery, must perish when brought down to low 
levels and vast stretches of monotony, just as cer- 
tainly as the floras of the same regions die, when in- 

The mind has a passion for analogies, which is 
tickled by generalizations of this description. They 
contain enough truth to make them as plausible as 
they are captivating, until they are subjected to 
close examination. You cannot study history, with- 
out being struck with the general way in which cli- 
matic belts have modified national characteristics. 

A people's moral complexion will be affected by 
food and drink. The general ethical standard will 
vary, more or less, according to physical altitude 
and outlook. One may freely admit all this, with- 
out giving any countenance to fatalism or necessity, 
without weakening in the slightest degree the string- 
ency of moral obligation. You may adduce shining 
examples, to prove that the doctrines of the Mount 
of Beatitudes may be naturalized at the equator; that 
the meat and drink interrogative need not corrupt 
the imperative ought; and that Christian liberty may 
be as valiant on lowlands as on highlands. 

When your adversary declaims of freedom and 
mountain heights, and points to Europe and the 
Alps, bid him turn to Asia with her Himalayas, the 
home of political and religious despotism in all ages. 
The generalization breaks in two, precisely where it 
looked strongest. 

Even more satisfactory is the appeal to individual 
consciousness. The doctrine of environment is 
most vulnerable at the same point with the doctrine 
of heredity. Go from meridian to meridian, from 
parallel to parallel, arraying this principle in its 


most attractive garb, ask every person whom you 
meet whether he does not recognize the absolute 
supremacy of this law over himself, and you will 
not find a solitary mortal that will admit its domin- 
ion in his own case. All will concede that these 
considerations have an important influence, but 
every one will strongly declare his own ability to 
resist that influence. 

Extend the thought from physical to social en- 
vironment. The latter is even more powerful than 
the former in modifying character. Morally, pure 
companionship is more bracing than lake breezes. 
Lofty ethical standards furnish a tonic more invig- 
orating than any mountain altitudes. The preval- 
ence of degrading conceptions of life will debase 
worse than barren soil and meager diet. 

Still, though we can not be too careful concerning 
such surroundings, we know that there is not in 
them, either singly or collectively, any compulsion 
which the soul cannot resist. We say respecting 
these as respecting the others, they modify but they 
do not make character. The final analysis shows us, 
that it is the individual will which fixes the individ- 
ual character. 

Now what is this will? Is it simple and independ- 
ent? Or is it a product of other factors? The an- 
swer is found in the text, " As a man thinketh in his 
heart, so is he." Thought, affection, volition, char- 
acter! The first two flow together into the third, 
and that decides the fourth. 

This view exalts thinking to a position which it 
does not enjoy in the estimate of the multitude. 
What is more common than the assertion that it 
makes no difference what a man thinks; his actions 


only are important. The assertion betrays a great 
lack of discrimination. It is true, if, by "what a 
man thinks" you mean merely such general notions 
as he assents to, without examination, because they 
are constantly repeated in his hearing, notions which 
have no more bearing upon his conduct than would 
a fragment from the multiplication table, or any 
axiom in geometry. It is true, if, by " what a man 
thinks," you mean certain abstract formulae which 
he has worked out for himself in mental gymnastics, 
and which he lays up as bric-a-brac, curiosities to 
amuse himself with, when he has nothing important 
to do. It is true, if, by " what a man thinks," you 
mean certain metaphysical propositions which he 
has elaborated, but which have no more relation to 
motives of conduct than do the properties of the 
parabola. What is indicated in the first of these 
suppositions, does not deserve the name of thinking. 
What is indicated in the other two suppositions, 
would be thinking of some sort, but not of the kind 
defined by the text, which says explicitly, " as a man 
thinketh in his heart, so is he." The thinking with 
which we are dealing to-day is restricted to that 
which embraces the heart in its circuit, which throbs 
with all the emotions between fervid love and malig- 
nant hate. If what you call your creed is made by 
this kind of thinking, it is of momentous importance 
what that creed is. Your character is in it, and be- 
cause your character is in it, your eternal destiny is 
in it also. 

Let us examine these two kinds of thinking, head 
thinking and heart thinking, more closely in their 
bearings on the subject. Even the former has a cer- 
tain dignity. Pure intellectualism is exalted far 


above mere animalism. Better a thousandfold the 
one who gives his days and nights to the coldest 
and idlest speculations, than the one who can say 
nothing but, let me eat, let me drink, and then let 
me die. 

The schoolmen of the middle ages excite your ad- 
miration by their mental adroitness, at the same 
time that you lament the waste of so much logical 
subtlety. You put them far higher in the scale of 
being than you do their contemporaries that gave 
themselves up to revellings and debaucheries. 

We have in modern times a race of essayists, who 
take pride in studying all subjects in the white light 
of pure reason. It is one of their first principles, to 
guard against the disturbing influence of the emo- 
tions. The view must be absolutely dispassionate. 
Sufficient heat to quicken the pulse or flush the 
cheek in any mental process brings the conclusion 
into discredit. Matthew Arnold is the best repre- 
sentative of the fraternity. Doubtless, they have 
made valuable contributions to knowledge. We see 
much to praise in the consistency and the persis- 
tency of their course. Moreover, as they think, so 
are they. In reading their books, you read them. 
The volume formed the man, is the man. As the 
ideas went into the treatise, they went into the au- 
thor and fixed his character. 

Now while we can justly set up this claim in such 
cases; while we can show that mere cold intellec- 
tualism has this irresistible power over those by 
whom it is worshiped, it is pre-eminently the think- 
ing in which head and heart sympathize that illus- 
trates the text. Examples of the most opposite na- 
ture might be multiplied. The doctrine points hell- 


ward as well as heavenward. With involuntary 
actions, we have now no concern. We are dealing 
with voluntary actions only. These are the chief 
indices of character. They sometimes deceive, but 
they are the best witnesses we can get, and they are 
as a rule, trustworthy. Yet such actions are never 
actions, until after they have been thoughts. They 
are simply thoughts made visible. Christ was al- 
ways laying the stress here. He ran the probe right 
in the heart-thought, when he wanted to show up 
what the man was. Said He: " Out of the heart pro- 
ceed evil thoughts" Yes, but He does not stop 
there. He goes on to actions "murders, adulteries, 
fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies 
these are things which defile a man." The heart is 
the hidden nest, in which the whole infernal brood 
is secretly hatched, long before the world is shocked 
with outrage and atrocity. 

The throne of Scotland would seem far enough 
away from the barren heath where the witches are 
dancing hand in hand. "All hail Macbeth! thou 
shalt be king hereafter " nothing but a thought 
a thought which has never before entered the mind 
of that hitherto loyal soldier. But now it drops 
from the witches' lips into the ear, and down, down 
to the bottom of the heart. The noble nature strug- 
gles for mastery. " Why do I yield to that sugges- 
tion whose horrid image doth unfix my hair and 
make my seated heart knock at my ribs against the 
use of nature? Stars, hide your fires; let not light 
see my 'black and deep desires." 

And presently Lady Macbeth is reading a letter, 
and her eyes catch those same words, " Hail, king 
that shalt be." It is only a thought. But it has 


dropped down, down to the bottom of her heart 
also. And then the man and woman stand face to 
face. They discuss that thought. The interview is 
brief. But before they separate that thought has 
become one hideous purpose in the breast of both. 
" Out of the heart proceed murders." The character 
and destiny of the two are fixed forever. Macbeth 
and Lady Macbeth are already murderers, though no 
dagger has. yet been lifted against Duncan or Ban- 

Christ " knew what was in man." Shakespeare 
knew what was in man. It is possible that even here 
in the house of God, an evil spirit has its lips at your 
ear, and is whispering some baneful suggestion to 
your heart. Beware! it is possible that out of your 
heart also may come that which will fill society with 
mingled amazement, indignation and loathing. 

Friends, it behooves us all, now and then, to walk 
up to the brink of one of these chasms, and steady 
ourselves, and look over and down, till we see the 
lurid glow, and take into the lungs the hot breath of 
the nether world. An unholy thought, getting pos- 
session of the heart, hurled even a Lucifer into the 
abyss. Who then does not need warning? 

Turn next from such possibilities to those proba- 
bilities, which are of universal application. It is not 
likely, that any one into whose face I am looking is 
being -swept along, by an overmastering thought, 
towards some awful catastrophe. It is not likely 
that any man present will ever be driven, to that, 
which shall make him cry in the madness of re- 
morse: " Avaunt, and quit my sight! Let the earth 
hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is 
cold! Thou hast no speculation in those eyes which 


thou dost glare with." It is not likely that any wo- 
man present will ever in her sleep walk up and 
down, trying to wash from her hand the traces of 
guilt, and sobbing in anguish " that, there's the smell 
of blood still, that all the perfumes of Arabia will 
not sweeten that hand." 

But it is probable that thoughts, not shocking, yet 
sinful, not straightway possessing the soul, yet lurk- 
ing there and biding their time, slowly working, 
never ceasing, are gradually, but surely, bringing the 
character of many in this audience into a permanent 
state of love for that which is bad, and of hatred for 
that which is good. My unconverted friend, your 
thoughts are thus constantly deciding what you are, 
and what you are to be to all eternity. It is written 
thus in Revelation. But I do not now urge Revela- 
tion. It is written thus in the very constitution of 
your being. Put the stress there, this afternoon. If 
the Bible were destroyed and all its teachings were 
forgotten, the argument would remain unshaken. 
This fundamental fact is not a fact, merely because 
the Bible declares it. The Bible declares it only 
because it is a fact. 

We are not now studying surface appearances. 
We are searching for essential causes. We are try- 
ing to follow the stream to its source. And when 
we get to the fountain head, we find that out of the 
thoughts are the issues of death or of life. Thank 
God that these need not be such issues of death as 
those which we have been describing. They may be 
blessed issues of immortal life. The apostle is over- 
powered with the grandeur of this possibility, when 
he exclaims: "Whatsoever things are true, whatso- 
ever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, 


whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are 
lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if 
there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on 
these things" Keep the thoughts of the heart fixed 
upon such themes, and your character will be slowly 
but surely transfigured before the world. 

This is at the same time the most trying and the 
most ennobling task that can be set for itself by the 
soul. The cost corresponds with the preciousness of 
the product. The current of inclination and habit 
sets the other way with mighty volume. Are you 
not obliged to confess a great reluctance, if not a 
deeply seated repugnance, concerning all such think- 
ing? Can you put upon yourself any other strain so 
great as that of keeping the gaze steadily fixed upon 
the most exalted truths? Yet not till you overcome 
this mental aversion, not till you get such a mastery 
of your faculties, that they turn cheerfully to these 
employments, can you hope for this transmutation 
of better thought into better being. 

I can detect in some of your faces a weariness, 
from the effort to centre your attention upon this 
topic, for even half an hour. But what you need, 
what I need, what every mortal needs is the tension 
of religious reflection. If men could be led to give 
the thoughts of the heart assiduously to these lofty 
themes we should begin to hear on every side the 
earnest cry, " What shall I do to be saved? " Right 
moral doing is the natural sequence of right heart 

The wicked man is challenged to bring his mind 
under the power of the ideal of righteousness, and 
to hold his mind there in reverent, prayerful eager- 
ness. No wicked man can stand long in that atti- 


tude, without becoming a righteous man. My im- 
penitent friend, that which now forbids your salva- 
tion, is this one persistent fact, that you will not 
thus " think on these things." If you think at all on 
the subject, your thinking is mere speculation, while 
your heart is wedded to the pleasures of sense, to 
the glittering follies and the unholy ambitions of 
Vanity Fair. " As you think, in your heart, so are 
you." As you continue to think in your heart, so 
must you continue to be forever. I repeat it, you 
may destroy Old Testament and New; but you can- 
not change this constitution of the soul. 

As the believer thinketh in his heart, so is he. 
Church member, your ideal of Christian character 
grades your character. You are to-day, essentially, 
what you are required to be, by the standard upon 
which your mind and heart are fixed. 

We have now no concern with those fleeting vis- 
ions, which sometimes bewitch the spiritual imagina- 
tion, and which we often miscall our ideal. The real 
ideal is that which we set before us resolutely, day 
by day. Put that ideal higher. Only as that rises, 
can we rise. As that rises, we shall rise till " Be- 
holding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, we are 
changed into the same image, from glory to glory." 

Young Gentlemen of the Graduating Class: During 
the first two terms of the year, we were occupied to- 
gether, in studying mental and moral philosophy. 
The text book work and the lectures by Dr. H. K. 
Jones opened before us provinces of investigation, 
both profitable and delightful. The text of the 
afternoon condenses into nine words those six 
months of exploration. It epitomizes the science of 
the soul. In the saying, " as a man thinketh in his 


heart, so is he," you have a combined definition of 
psychology and ethics, intellect, sensibilities, voli- 
tion, character. 

During the spring term, we have been separated 
from one another, and in different places. I have 
been engaged alone, in studying individual men. I 
have been deeply interested in several involuntary 
disclosures of character. I have also been confiden- 
tially admitted to the " thoughts of the heart" in not 
a few instances. Such relations are most sacred. 
But there was one case which will always be associ- 
ated with this text. It is mentioned, but in a cau- 
tious way, so that no one will so much as suspect the 

I had been travelling several days, had lost several 
night's rest, and had engaged the quietest room at 
a hotel, intending to be asleep by eight o'clock. I 
went to meet a seven o'clock appointment. I made 
a short but urgent appeal, and was about to with- 
draw, when the gentleman said that I must not go. 
I sat down and soon took no note of time, as I lis- 
tened to his views on business and education. I had 
long admired him for his financial ability and clear- 
ness of brain. The conversation increased the admir- 

It was ten o'clock, and supposing that there was 
nothing further to be said, I started to my feet once 
more. But he told me not to hurry, and then he 
opened his heart^'mio which I had never before been 
invited to look. It was a beautiful revelation. Said 
I, " 'The wind bloweth where itlisteth.' My friend, 
I have never known you before. It is a quarter of 
twelve. Let our talk begin here, when we meet 
again. Good night." 


" As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." 
My young brethren, what is the thinking of your 
heart? That makes character. 

And in character is wrapped up eternal destiny. 


" Thy Kingdom Come." The Second Petition of the Lord's 

GOD commanded that every fifty years the trum- 
pet of jubilee should be blown throughout the land 
of Israel. The Christian Church, in imitation of the 
Jewish, should pass... from one half century to 
another with rejoicing. But we are not limited to 
two festivals in a century. Every anniversary may 
be made bright with prophecy, by keeping pace with 
time, and from the review of fifty years just gone, 
forecasting the fifty years to come. A century of 
retrospect and a century of prospect would lack 
vividness, for such periods stretch, respectively, 
beyond our memory in the one direction and beyond 
the possibility of our experience in the other. A 
quarter century of retrospect and a quarter century 
of prospect would be confusing, from the nearness 
of the view. But when you speak of the half cen- 
tury past, and the half century to come, the memory 
of older men and women flies back to one limit, 
and the anticipation of younger men and women 
sweeps on to the other. Thus personal interest is 
secured, and trustworthy data for prediction are 
insured. Yet, even under these, the happiest con- 
ditions, how much depends upon the selection of 
the facts and the disposition of the seer? 

The Queen's Jubilee calls forth the Miserere of a 
Tennyson and the Gloria of a Gladstone. 


" Poor old voice of eighty years, crying after voices that have 


All I loved are vanished voices, all my steps are on the dead." 
"Cries of unprogressive dotage, ere the gray beard fall asleep. 
Noises of a current narrowing, not the music of a deep." 

Read the second Locksley Hall, and then listen to 
that other brave old voice of eighty years in the pro- 
test which closes thus: "Justice does not require, 
nay rather she forbids, that the Jubilee of the Queen 
be marred by tragic tones." Is it possible that the 
pessimistic review by the laureate and the optimistic 
estimate by the stateman concern the same half 
century ? 

It is just fifty years since Lovejoy died, and since 
the city of Chicago was born. Up from southern 
Illinois still come stories of Egyptian darkness. But 
what a brightening of these moral skies, since the 
Alton riots of '37. Down from northern Illinois come 
startling reports of heathenism in the metropolis. 
Well, shall we for spiritual refreshment go back to 
Fort Dearborn and the scalp dance of the Aborigines? 
Notwithstanding these multiplying discouragements 
of the prairie and these thickening perils of the city, 
who does not envy yonder boy, who, fifty years from 
to-day, shall bear witness to the splendid achieve- 
ments of Christian civilization within the common- 
wealth ? 

But the outlook which we take this afternoon must 
not be confined to our own state, or even to our own 
republic. Let what has been said merely indicate 
the time standard and spirit with which the world 
survey should be made. 

FIRST. Are we entering a half century of war, 
or a half century of peace? Turn to the other 


continent, and the political sky looks black Avith 
storms. For months, the air has been heavy with 
rumors of war. Many are affrighted. Confine atten- 
tion to certain obtrusive features of the situation, and 
the general prospect is most alarming. The standing 
armies of the world cost two billions of dollars yearly.. 
France, Germany and Russia are the three great 
powers that seem most eager for an outbreak of hos- 

'tilities. France has half a million of soldiers ready 
for service. Within twenty days she could bring into 
the field two millions and a half of men well 
acquainted with military tactics. Germany cannot 
display forces quite as numerous, but she more than 
makes good the difference in numbers, by superiority 
in discipline. Russia enrolls, on a peace footing, 
eight hundred thousand soldiers, and on a war foot- 
ing, four millions. Of the other two great European 
powers, Austria follows the lead of Germany, and 
England grows yearly more reluctant to engage in 
war. But even in the case of France and Germany, 
we may be misled by this great military display. 
With the former, it does not mean what it would have 
meant in the time of the first Napoleon. Then it 

. would have looked toward foreign conquest. Now 
the chief aim is home defense. The Frenchman 
still loves glory, but experience has taught him that 
the way to glory is in consolidating his power, rather 
than in extending his territory. The nation is forti- 
fying every exposed point in her domain, not to es- 
tablish a base for aggressive warfare, but to make in- 
vasion impossible. France may go abroad to fight, 
but her preference is to be let alone and let others 

A united and independent Germany is Bismarck's 


ideal. It is chiefly to insure that, that he preserves 
so belligerent a tone and attitude. That is the only 
safety of the nation, considering the exposure of her 
situation in all directions. Germany, like France, 
may go abroad to fight, but her preference, also, is to 
be let alone and let others alone. Great is the 
change which has come over the spirit of her dream 
these later years. 

Russia only is possessed with the old craze for 
conquest. It begins to be evident to the world that 
with covetous eye she is looking beyond Turkey to 
the British possessions in India. Other nations will 
not permit this threatened overthrow of the balance 
of power. Even if through jealously of Great Britain, 
they were ready to connive at the invasion, England 
is better able than ever before to defend her Asiatic 
possessions. The completion of the Canadian Paci- 
fic railway opens a new route to India, which in war 
would be worth more for the transportation of troops 
and military supplies, than would the Suez canal, 
hitherto so jealously guarded. In short, all of the 
leading peoples of Europe, with one exception, are 
growing weary of foreign conquest, and it is their 
common interest to curb Russia's aggressive spirit. 
The continental outlook, studied with this broad sweep 
of vision, is brighter than it was half a century ago. 
The tendency of the next fifty years will be toward 
the final establishment of national boundaries. 
When that is accomplished, the economic folly of 
spending two billions of dollars annually in military 
display, will lead to a general disbanding of the 
great standing armies of the world and their transfer 
to the various fields of peaceful and productive in- 
dustry. Mankind are rapidly coming to the conclu- 


sion, that the secret of national glory lies not in 
martial achievement, but in the promotion of trade, 
commerce, social science and moral reform. Such 
is, unquestionably, the prevailing world-movement 
of the age. Surface appearances may seem omin- 
ous of war, but the mighty under-current makes for 

SECOND. The coming half century of comparative 
quiet among the nations is to be a period of good 
will among men. Sectarian narrowness and bitter- 
ness are disappearing. Fifty years hence, jealous 
rivalry will be supplanted by generous emulation 
among the denominations. Energies once worse 
than wasted in strife will manifest themselves in a 
quickened philanthropy. Already public and private 
charities for the helpless multiply. Hospitals for the 
curable insane and asylums for the incurable, bear 
witness to the spread of Christian compassion. In- 
stitutions for the blind and for the deaf and dumb, 
from year to year make nobler provision for those 
that must walk in the darkness and in the silence. 
Fresh interest is shown in prison reform. I stepped 
into the House of Representatives at Springfield, 
last Thursday morning, ignorant of the order of the 
day, and the first words that fell upon my ear were 
from the lips of one of our honored college trustees, 
pleading for prison reform. While self-protection 
must continue to be the first law of society, the well- 
being of the criminal class is destined to receive 
greater attention. 

We are entering on a new era in education, prim- 
ary, intermediate and higher. The close of our half 
century will see our worthier colleges comfortably 
endowed for their beneficent work. Ere then our 


leading universities will cease to blush in the pres- 
ence of Cambridge, Oxford and Berlin. 

The younger members of this audience will live to 
see somewhat of order 'and beauty growing out of 
the present chaotic relations of economics and 
ethics. Theoretical and practical social science will 
prove within fifty years, that commercial competi- 
tion and Christian benevolence rightly understood 
are not antagonistic laws. There can be no social 
science worthy of the name that does not approach 
the relations of men to one another, individually and 
collectively, in the spirit of the New Testament. It 
is well to discuss the subject through the papers, in 
the reviews, on the platform and behind the pulpit. 
Rays of light are welcome from all these sources. 
But they, fail to move the vast majority of mankind. 
The chief hope of social science for the next half 
century lies in the line of home evangelization and, 
especially, of city evangelization. Patriotism shud- 
ders for the fate of the republic, in view of the 
thickening dangers in our great centers of popula- 
tion. Police stations and school-houses and up-town 
churches, valuable though they be, are utterly inade- 
quate defences. Alas for the nation, unless the 
ignorant, barbarian, incontinent, fierce rum-ruled 
hordes that are pouring in upon us, be speedily 
brought under the power of the Gospel of Christ ! 
Impending peril is awakening the churches to a 
sense of their responsibility. There is a vague feeling 
that something must be done, and done quickly. 
Noble efforts are made by individuals and by 
churches. But you nowhere discover comprehensive 
plans for steady, methodical, aggressive evangeliza- 
tion. Yet I believe that out of all the confusion of 


this new spiritual awakening among God's people, 
there is to come upon the cities of America a more 
wonderful evangelistic movement than swept through 
the cities of Asia Minor in the days of the apostles. 
The next half century will not see Boston and New 
York and San Francisco and St. Louis and Chicago 
Christianized, but it will see them Evangelized to the 
salvation of the republic. 

THIRD. Those of you who are here fifty years 
hence will look out upon a WORLD, not Christianized, 
but Evangelized. You have all seen in missionary 
charts and magazines that black diagram, which shows 
heathenism resting like a pall upon the vast majority 
of mankind. There are some whom such a study 
will arouse to fiery zeal to rescue the perishing. But 
there are others in whom it may produce a sense of 
depression and hopelessness, which will strike relig- 
ious activity with paralysis. It is not well for such 
to brood over the suggestions of that diagram. Take, 
instead, an outline map of the planet; follow Bain- 
bridge in his two years missionary tour around the 
world; set a silver star at every mission station, and, 
when you are done, hold your map where the sun 
can shine upon it. Night does shroud the moral fir- 
mament. Nevertheless, those same heavens declare 
God's coming glory. On islands recently reeking 
with orgies of cannibalism, Christ is King. Who 
would have thought it possible a generation ago, 
that we should see a Christian appointed minister of 
finance, in the Turkish empire? What is the mean- 
ing of a Christian college in Eden, where the race 
learned its first lesson of good and evil? Is there no 
inspiration in the sight of two thousand Sunday 
school children marching through the streets of 


Lucknow, which not long ago witnessed the worst 
horrors of the Sepoy rebellion ? Can we wonder, that 
even the positivist, St. Hilaire, in his amazement at 
the spread of Christianity, among the Hindoos, is 
constrained to predict, that the whole population of 
India will at length spontaneously embrace the relig- 
ion of her English conqueror? Only the other month, 
Christendom heard, with delight, the proclamation 
of religious toleration throughout the Chinese em- 
pire. There is no wildness in the prophecy of Dr. 
Williams, that, at the present rate of progress, fifty 
years will make China nominally Christian. That 
will be to our children no greater marvel, than is to 
you and me the fact, that, in the city on the Tiber, 
within sight of the Vatican, more than a score of 
spires rise toward YLezvenprotestant. 

Five thousand missionaries thirty thousand native 
helpers ministering to-day to half a million church 
members and to two millions of adherents!!! If this 
be the result, against the opposition of the world, 
what may we not expect, now that obstacles are dis- 
appearing, and the whole world grows clamorous for 
the gospel? Missionary enterprise presses the steam- 
boat and the locomotive into the service of the Most 
High. The railroad train, which has already aroused 
India from her long Nirvana dream, is impatient to 
awake the Chinese empire from her sleep of ages. 
The steamers that are multiplying on the water-ways 
of Africa mean death to the slave-trade, as they carry 
from the interior to the ocean loads of ivory hitherto 
borne by captives to the sea-coast, and sold there 
with the victims of the trader's accursed greed. 

But God has nobler agencies than commerce can 
bring into action. Men and women, with new eager- 


ness, obey His call. The girl in the seminary, the 
boy in the college, the teacher in the academy and 
the pastor in the metropolis, with the same enthu- 
siasm, set their faces toward Japan. Within a year, 
the dews of our own Mt. Hermon become a swelling 
stream, which is flowing to gladden the very ends of 
the earth. Our young men see new visions of a glo.iy 
not of this world, and our old men dream new dreams 
of thy coming kingdom, O God. While the thought 
of the American college goes out to the realm of the 
Mikado, the brain and brawn of the English univer- 
sity are attracted to "the land of flowers." And is 
there no over-ruling Providence in the fact, that the 
China Inland Mission, the mission in special danger 
of becoming the prey of fanaticism, should, at this 
juncture of affairs, be strengthened by men universi- 
ty-bred, so that zeal may be better tempered with 

In harmony with this remarkable student move- 
ment, is the still more wonderful woman movement 
of our generation. While the religion of Christ 
recognizes no distinction of sex for the life to come, 
it is, in this world, of more vital importance to wo- 
man than to man. Recognizing the fact, her heart 
glows with ever increasing ardor for the regenera- 
tion of the race. Without forgetting that her first 
mission is at home, she realizes that she has also a 
most important mission abroad. Man likewise, is 
gradually forced to admit it, as he finds himself un- 
able to gain access to the home life of Asia, while 
woman daintily embroiders a slipper, which, in her 
hand, becomes the "open sesame" to the zenanas of 
India. Did not a female physician in the Methodist 
mission bring back from the borders of the grave the 


wife of. the grand viceroy, Hung Chang, and through 
the influence thus obtained, save the Burlingame 
treaty from impending defeat? Not Siddhartha, but 
Woman, is "The Light of Asia." 

We sometimes hear the lament that the days of 
Christian heroism are past, that we shall see no more 
Careys and Judsons, that the martyr spirit was buried 
with the heart of Livingstone, in the heart of Africa. 
Read the story of Father Damiens, the Apostle of 
the lepers on the island of Molokai. The history of 
the church does not contain a nobler example, than 
the consecration of that young priest to the service 
of those afflicted with a loathsome and incurable 
malady, through the contagion of which he himself 
dropping to pieces, little by little, day by day, has, 
at last, fallen into a compassionate grave. Bishop 
Hannington, of the church which is sometimes 
taunted for retaining the form of Godliness without 
the power thereof, died the death of the martyr, in 
Africa, not many months ago. Since then fifty En- 
glishmen have volunteered to reinforce his mission 
there. "The blood of the martyrs is still the seed of 
the church." 

"But alas," says some one, "there is no money 
movement to sustain all this new-born eagerness to 
preach the gospel to every creature; and ardor will 
presently grow cold, from lack of 'cash to balance.' " 
Such apprehension is natural. Remember this, how- 
ever; while, within the last eight years, the number 
of ordained missionaries has increased fifty .per cent., 
contributions have increased seventy per cent.; and 
depend upon it that this quickened flow of the heart 
will be followed by a quickened flow of the currency. 
We are entering upon a new era in the consecration 



of money to the evangelization of the world. As 
last Sunday, I put into the contribution plate for this 
purpose my pittance, only sorry that it must be so 
small, but glad that it might be something, I was 
thrilled as never before by the thought of the rich 
man's opportunity, of his possibilities of unbounded 
joy, in the consecration of thousands and tens of 
of thousands to this, the grandest enterprise of all 
the ages, now hastening to its consummation. One- 
third of the wealth of the United States is in the 
hands of Christians. God's people are no longer 
poor. The Master saith to his disciples, in a materi- 
al, as well as in a spiritual sense: "Freely you have 
received, freely .give." That command must be, will 
be heard and obeyed. 

I emphasize once more the sentiment of this 
address: The world, not Christianized, but evangel- 
ized } in half a century. In Oxford University, the pro- 
fessor of Sanscrit, after the most exhaustive research, 
testifies that Christianity to-day outranks every other 
religion, in number of its adherents. Already, nearly 
one-third of the population of the planet recognizes 
the supremacy of the Redeemer. Who, now, are the 
chosen of the Lord, to lead the way in publishing 
the tidings of great joy throughout the earth? 

France is making noble progress in the direction 
of religious liberty; but by the time she has emanci- 
pated herself from superstition and atheism, and 
qualified herself to be the herald of righteousness, 
the gospel will be preached to every creature. 

Germany let slip the opportunity which came with- 
in her reach through the reformation of the i6th 
century. Rationalism is yielding rapidly to a rever 
ent and aggressive faith, but the change has begun so 



recently, that Germany, though she may bring up the 
rear most solidly, cannot lead the van, during the 
half century within which the world is to be evan- 

America and England, representing the Anglo- 
Saxon race, are appointed of God, to be known in 
history as the nations that planted the standard of 
the cross throughout the realms of heathendom. 
To-day three-fourths of all the missionary societies 
are American and English. To-day two-thirds of 
all the funds given to missions come from America 
and England. Year by year the Anglo-Saxon con- 
tributions, both of men and of money, grow, rela- 
tively, larger and larger. This missionary mission is 
the crowning glory of the Anglo-Saxon. No other 
race has had so grand a religious opportunity. The 
outlook is upon a world expectant of glad tidings. 
The uplook reveals an open heaven and a risen Lord ; 
the brightening prospects of whose kingdom are a 
new inspiration to his people. 

Said Mary Somerville: "The time has come when 
I must go hence. I leave the world with only two 
regrets. Would that I could wait till the sources of 
the Nile are discovered by Livingstone! Would 
that I could live to -see the distance between the 
earth and the sun determined by the transit of 

Akin to this scientific yearning, which would pen- 
etrate the mysteries that hang over the dark regions 
- of the earth, and would discover the secrets that are 
hidden in the heavenly places where light abid- 
eth, is the spiritual longing of many hearts here this 
afternoon. Why cannot we who are older, as well 
as ye who are younger, tarry a little longer, to be- 


hold what ye shall behold fifty years hence; all the 
benighted portions of the planet brought under the 
direct influence of Him who is "The Light of the 
World" Evangelized; and also to be Christianized, 
in the fulness of time. 

Young Gentlemen of the Graduating Class : Enter, 
with rejoicing, this half century which is to fill out 
your natural three score years and ten. Most fortu- 
nate are they whose manhood is bounded by a 
period destined to be so illustrious. The book that 
I loved most in childhood was an old red-bound 
volume which described the heroes of the American 
revolution. As I thumbed those pages over and 
over, it seemed to me that the world could never 
again look upon achievements so noble, generals, so 
patriotic, commander -in -chief so magnanimous. 
Flow I used to lament that I had not lived just across 
the century line so that I could have witnessed those 
thrilling scenes, watched the principal actors therein, 
studied the benignant face of Washington and joined 
in the procession to Mount Vernon. 

But the other week I went to Oak Ridge to see 
the final arrangements within the monument. There 
in the memorial chamber was the well-worn sur- 
veyor's chain; there was the old compass, with the 
needle pointing as it did when Lincoln ran the lines 
only a few miles from where we stand, and straight- 
way to imagination the muddy Sangamon became a 
more historic stream than the Scamander of which 
Homer loved to sing and next the eye caught the 
blood-stains on the robe of Laura Keene, immortal- 
ized by that awful tragedy and then across the field 
of memory swept the vanished half century with its 
moral agitations, its political revolutions, its mighty 


march of inspiring ideas. And I said to myself, how 
short sighted was the boy who used to look back- 
ward and sigh that he could not have lived when the 
thirteen colonies published the Declaration and 
fought their way to Independence ! It is better to 
have been a witness of the Re-generation. Bunker 
Hill and Trenton and Yorktown are less than Shiloh 
and Gettysburg and Richmond. Shall one be con- 
sumed with regret that he never saw the faces of 
Warren and Greene and LaFayette, after he has 
heard the voices of Grant and Sherman and Sheri- 
dan ? 

You also, my friends, have often said to yourselves, 
impatiently, why could not we have come to our 
manhood a generation ago? Why could not we have 
had some part in those grand affairs? Why need 
we be confined to these plodding, uneventful years? 
Believe me, yours is a still more exalted privilege. 
You are to see the world evangelized. Mount Vernon 
tells of a nation born. Oak Ridge is eloquent of a 
republic saved. But Gethsemane's cry is possible 
redemption for all mankind. And the half century 
which stretches out before you is the half century 
chosen ,of Jehovah for the proclamation of salvation 
to every race and people and tribe under the whole 

And now, as we bid you an affectionate farewell, 
here upon the threshold of the untried, we solemnly 
charge you to heed the high calling of your half 
century. Choose that vocation in which you can do 
most for the coming of the kingdom, and be hap- 
piest in the King's jubilee. 



"And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone 
made ready before it was brought thither; so that there was 
neither hammer, nor ax, nor any tool of iron, heard in the house 
when it was in building." I Kings vi: 7. 

In the first struggling dawn of a winter morning, 
I was approaching the city of Washington. Drawing 
aside a curtain of the palace car, I saw in the distance, 
as if it were let down from heaven, what looked like 
a great globe, spectral-white. I studied it a moment 
in wonder, and then the thought flashed upon me that 
the seeming apparition was the lofty dome of the 
national capitol. The pulse quickened and the breath 
came faster, as the eye rested upon that silent emblem 
of the majesty of the republic. I realized the emo- 
tion of the moslem pilgrim, when Mecca breaks in 
view, and he exclaims in awe: "Allah Akbar!" "G'cd 
is great!" I sympathized with the devout Catholic, 
when he looks for the first time upon the dome of 
St. Peter. I understood, as never before, what must 
have been the feeling of the Jew, when he went up 
to the metropolis and gazed upon that temple, built 
without sound of ax, or hammer, or tool of iron, a 
voiceless witness to the blessedness of that nation 
whose ruler is Jehovah. 

The completion of that structure was the crown- 
ing glory of the reign of Solomon. There is no 
more significant object lesson in history. The plan 
was unique in conception and in execution. The 
edifice rose before the world, a most impressive visi- 


ble manifestation of the doctrine, that the Omnipo- 
tent chooseth secrecy and stillness for the accom- 
plishment of his designs. It said to the eye under 
the old dispensation, what Jesus said to the ear under 
the new dispensation: "The Kingdom of God com- 
eth not with observation." The rising of one stone 
upon another, without the sound of ax, or hammer, 
or tool of iron, was like the growing of the mustard 
seed, and the working of the hidden leaven. You 
cannot find a happier illustration of the unity of 
purpose between the Old Testament and the New. 

And when you close this volume of written Reve- 
lation, you may discover the same doctrine in nature 
and in life. 

The generation is mechanical. Wheels and cogs 
and iron bands preach their gospel with ceaseless 
clatter, rattle and clang. It is a genuine gospel. 
God forbid that we should decry the source of bless- 
ings manifold unto mankind. Dynamite and ex- 
plosives of every description have their mission of 
beneficence. Worthless to the world is the recluse, 
who betakes himself to the solitudes, affrighted by 
the din and uproar inseparable from modern civiliza- 

Still the times do not demand an increase of the 
apostles of these noisy self-asserting agencies. 
There will always be sufficient Popular Science 
monthlies and Scientific Americans to crowd such 
instrumentalities to the front. But we are in danger 
of underrating those forces and activities which 
operate, invisibly and inaudibly. The passing parox- 
ysm of the volcano and the earthquake, so engross 
our thought, that we heed not those far greater 
wonders of the planet, the quiet deposition of the 


strata, in progress for untold ages, and the gradual 
preparation of the earth to become the home of 
ever-advancing types of life. The shriek of the 
steam whistle, and the revolution of the driving-wheel 
absorb the attention of the multitude, who never 
reflect upon the whirling of the nebulae, and the 
secret of the noisy, obtrusive spectacle, in the burial 
of the sun's light, heat and motive power, in the coal 
measures of the carboniferous era. 

The cry of fire is heard. The engine thunders 
along the street. The hose is adjusted, and, pres- 
ently, a stream of water is driven to the topmost 
story of the burning, building. As the raging flames 
give way, you look with loving admiration upon 
the panting fire-king, and rightly exclaim, wonder- 
ful, wonderful power ! Go out into the forest some 
calm summer day. The foliage is motionless. The 
stillness is oppressive. But, all around, innumerable 
force-pumps are driving the water up from its reser- 
voirs, through trunks, and limbs, and leaves. Com- 
pared with this silent agency, how insignificant is the 
power displayed by that noisy engine! The latter 
quenches what is destroying one of the perishing 
structures of man. The former sustains the forest, 
that casts upon the earth, as~~it were, the very shadow 
of God. 

From Alpine height, a ponderous boulder comes 
crashing down, to smite the glittering face of Swit- 
zerland's icy wonder, Mer De Glace. What cares the 
glacier? With leisurely contempt, it bears the monster 
on, to cast it off at the foot of the moraine. But that 
huge thing, in its first descent, frightens a pebble 
from its resting place, and drives it out upon that 
solid, shining river. And the pebble grows warm 


from solar heat, and slowly settles beneath the sur- 
face; and rills of water come, and set it grinding 
there; and that pocket is worn larger and deeper;, 
and, by and by, that tiny stone finds its way down 
to the very heart of the glacier. 

Long years ago, a friend and I were spending a 
short vacation among the Coast Mountains. On Sat- 
urday, we reached Astoria, a town rendered historic 
by the enterprise of John Jacob Astor and by the pen 
of Washington Irving. The village is situated near 
the mouth of the Columbia, which, because of its 
wrathful waters, was called, by Theodore Winthrop, 
the "Achilles of Rivers." The stream is there seven 
miles in width. Across it extends a line of breakers, 
the dread of mariners. Upon that reef many gallant 
ships have been broken in pieces. There are but 
two narrow channels through which vessels may pass 
in safety. On the morning after our arrival, as we 
were not presentable for church, we went below the 
town to spend the hours alone. The shore was 
sloping, like the beach of the sea. Throwing our 
blankets down, and ourselves upon them, we 
turned our faces ocean-ward. As the current of 
the river swept west-ward, it struck upon that rocky 
barrier, and the water was dashed backward and up- 
ward, fifty, sixty feet. Then as the waves came 
rolling in from the Pacific, and threw themselves 
upon that defiant reef, they were hurled back- 
ward seventy-five, a hundred feet. We watched the 
sight awhile, in wondering silence, and then found 
ourselves talking naturally of forces material and 
forces spiritual, of political convulsions and of those 
who had figured in them; of moral revolutions and of 
the actors therein, our faces, all the time turned ocean- 


ward. Meanwhile, slowly up that shelving shore, 
the silent tide was stealing. At last it touched our 
feet. That was the first intimation of its coming. 
In the rear there was a slight depression, and along 
that hollow path the noiseless water was creeping. 
The place where we are lying will soon become an 
island; the island will grow smaller and smaller; 
presently there will be no island. Ah! said we both, 
as we retreated to a higher station, the power is not 
all down there among those roaring breakers. Here 
is a mightier force in this voiceless tide. That bat- 
tle of the elements can be seen and heard only a 
little distance. But here is an influence that is felt 
away up the river yonder, farther than eye can pene- 
trate, or ear catch the sound. 

The lesson is the same when you turn from physi- 
cal phenomena to study the progress of civilization- 
What is the true philosophy of history? The ques- 
tion is usually answered in one of two ways. Ma- 
caulay and Carlyle are the best representatives of 
those who offer one explanation; Knight and Mc- 
Master are the best representatives of those who 
present the other. Macaulay selects brilliant epochs 
and striking characters, paints them with all the 
splendors of his marvelous imagination; and declares 
that such are the agencies which have decided the 
destinies of the race. Carlyle, caring less for rhetoric 
and stage effect, with extravagant ruggedness, exalts 
gigantic prowess, whether it be like that of a Samson 
or of a Frederick the Great, proclaiming that men 
like these rule their own generation, and lay down 
the law which governs the generation following. 
Macaulay and Carlyle are in substantial accord, inas- 
much as they seek to trace the general course of 


events to the few who have been conspicuous actors 
in the drama of the ages. On the other side, Knight 
and McMaster, while acknowledging the influence 
of those who have thus stood in the foreground of 
affairs, stoutly maintain that such men, though seem- 
ingly autocratic in swaying events, are really thrust 
into position, and held there by forces which proceed 
from the people. 

These two conflicting views give the world two 
different kinds of histories. Contrast Macaulay's 
History of England and Knight's History of the 
English People, the materials selected by a Carlyle 
and the materials selected by a McMaster. 

Is either philosophy of civilization complete in 
itself, and exclusive of the other? One certainly 
makes a more fascinating story than the other. The 
first invokes sentiment and romance. The second 
suggests no genius, except the genius of the com- 
monplace and the homely. Either needs the other. 

This is the true statement of the case. The farther 
you go back into antiquity, the greater is the power 
of a few individuals, remarkable, either for physical 
or mental, endowments. With every added century, 
the importance of such individuals diminishes, and 
the importance of the multitude increases. The first 
principle would naturally govern in writing the annals 
of the Roman republic, the second in writing the 
annals of the American republic. The history of 
antiquity is substantially the history of the few. It 
will remain so. The history of the future will be 
substantially the history of the many. In olden 
times, the man made the era. Now the era makes 
the man. There is no reason to believe that in the 
days of Alexander forces were in operation which 


would then have produced the same results, if he 
had been strangled in his cradle. It is not likely 
that there were many other cradles in which were 
lying possible Alexanders, some one of whom would 
have had Alexander's illustrious career, had he come 
to an untimely end. But, had that plot succeeded, 
which was formed to destroy Abraham Lincoln, on. 
his way to Washington for inauguration, though the 
course of events would have been retarded some- 
what, there would have appeared another, compe- 
tent to work out the same political problem. General 
Grant once put the idea very tersely, at a banquet 
given in his honor. Said he, " I must dissent from 
the remark that I saved the country, during the 
recent war. If our country could be either saved 
or ruined by any one man, we should not have a 
country, and we should not be celebrating the Fourth 
of July. If I had never held command, if I had 
fallen, if all our generals had fallen, there were ten 
thousand behind us who would have done the work 
just as well." 

To utter such sentiments does not belittle bene- 
factors, does not aim a blow at hero-worship. It 
simply sets in bold relief the fact, that still mightier 
than the force which startles the world with grand 
display, is the hidden principle, noiselessly gather- 
ing its stores of power, till it must have expression, 
and then compelling the ready herald to arise and 
utter the proclamation, and the waiting chieftain, to 
enforce the message, with all the pomp and circum- 
stance and horror of war. It is not denied that the 
representative men of modern epochs even, have a 
mighty reflex influence upon their times. Their 
freedom and moulding agency in the revolutions 


which take place, are fully acknowledged, still the 
fact remains, that they are greater debtors to the 
movements of the period, than are the movements 
of the period to them. It is sufficient honor for 
any man, to catch the preference of his generation, 
adapt himself to it, divine its tendency, and have 
a noble part in shaping that tendency to ends most 
beneficent. Ill does it become such a one to mag- 
nify effects, and the importance of his own imme- 
diate agency, and thus seek not the great underlying 
ultimate causes, without which he would remain un- 

The same principle finds illustration in the building 
of institutions of learning. They rise, like Solomon's 
temple without sound of ax, or hammer, or tool of 
iron. There are exceptions, like the proposed Stanford 
University in California, but they are so few that they 
only prove the rule. Palaces of trade and chambers 
of commerce are noisy in construction and obtrusive 
in their work. This is not said, as a ground of re- 
proach. They thus best subserve the ends of their ex- 
istence. Everything should be "after its kind." There 
is a prevailing law of life in agencies, human and di- 
vine. It is unwise to try to crowd one type into con- 
formity with another. By favoring the freest develop- 
ment of each, we contribute most to the well-being of 
the world. The sound of hammer and ax and tool of 
iron in manufactories and rolling mills is presumptive' 
evidence of their prosperity. Silence, there, means 
bankruptcy to the capitalist and starvation to the 
laborer. A furnace in blast gladdens the heart, for 
it speaks of productive consumption. It chills, like 
walking through a graveyard, to travel through a 
manufacturing region where the fires are drawn and 


the smoke-stacks stand black and breathless. A full 
anvil chorus is the only music in harmony with the 
surroundings. Furthermore, let us not indulge in 
the common folly of trying to put a rolling mill 
into one end of the scale and a college into the other, 
to ascertain their comparative value to the world. 
The two are different in kind, and they must be 
measured by different standards. Instead of engag- 
ing in an endless and profitless debate, respecting 
their relative importance, why not, at once, acknowl- 
edge their discrete nature and rejoice in the blessings 
which both confer. Give us the tongs of Vulcan, but 
bring also the harp of Apollo, The human race needs 
both for its comfort and gladness. Neither should be 
degraded for the exaltation of the other. Let each 
have its clay of celebration. 

We, therefore, urge, this afternoon, the thought 
that tests which are appropriate, in the realm of 
mechanical industries shall not be applied in the 
province of ideas. It is in that province, that insti- 
tutions of learning have their genesis and growth. 
The secret of their origin is buried in the heart of 
faith and hope and consecration. The precious 
things for their building .are brought from many 
sources and from long distances. The process is 
slow and wearisome. There are self-denials which 
make no showy parade. Prayer and toil and precious 
life are invested in the structure, as the conception 
takes form and proportion,without the sound of ham- 
mer, or ax, or tool of iron. Single years attract no 
special notice. The growth is like the coral growth 
beneath the surface of the world's clamorous affairs. 
But the noiseless accretions fail not. From time to 
time, quiet hands bring and place there another stone, 


the base broadens and the height increases, men 
scarcely know how. Other structures rise with loud 
acclaim, to crumble slowly into ruin, or to fall with 
sudden, deafening crash; but these abide from gen- 
eration to generation. 

Till within a half century, how little was there at 
Harvard to arrest the attention of those who judge 
only from the tangible and the startling! Go back of 
the recent period of ambitious display. How little 
does the world know of those two centuries of un- 
obtrusive benevolence, when widows' mites and 
mothers' prayers, and laymen's contributions, and 
ministerial faithfulness, and teachers' poorly paid 
toil, were establishing massive foundations for the 
proudest and the most enduring structure between 
the two oceans! The echoes from Plymouth Rock 
and Bunker Hill may become fainter and fainter 
with successive centennials, but the voice of " Fair 
Harvard" will grow stronger, sweeter, more persuas- 
ive, till time shall be no longer. 

A single seed planted in the soil of Massachusetts, 
like the Psalmist's handful of corn on the top of the 
mountain, bringing forth after its kind, taketh posses- 
sion of every state and territory of the republic. 

Moreover, while the edification of our colleges 
goes on without sound of ax, or hammer, or tool of 
iron, and while the standards for estimating their 
value do not primarily appeal to the senses, their 
influence is all-pervasive in whatever concerns the 
spread of material civilization. They foster, as does 
no other agency, the spirit of patient research, which 
insures scientific discovery and mechanical invention. 
They quicken the thought, which gives impulse to 
progress in agriculture, manufactures and commerce. 


They inquire into the secrets of political and social 
problems, and quietly mediate between the antag- 
onisms of men who are blinded by prejudice and 
selfishness. But their chief benefaction to the world 
lies in the moulding of individual character, the de- 
velopment of which is like their own, unobtrusive, 
yet excellent and, in its influence, wide-spread and 

Edification in mental and moral power should be 
the governing idea in the life of every human being. 
The temple of Solomon is the type of the process 
and the product. Forget not the long years of pre- 
paration, before there was aught to attract the atten- 
tion of Jerusalem. Unknown workmen who never 
appeared upon the streets of the capital, were get- 
ting ready the stones in the quarries of Lebanon, 
and searching for the noblest cedars in the distant 
forests of the mountain of the Lord. The' ships of 
Tyre, withdrawn from their secular mission, were 
spreading their white wings up and down the Medi- 
terranean, in the secret service of Jehovah. Thus, 
like the wise king, does the wise man always labori- 
ously and patiently gather from afar the materials 
which are at length to fit into their appropriate places 
in the structure which shall rise acceptable unto God. 
Faith finds here her sphere for perfect work. We 
cannot see the uses of these preliminary mental and 
moral disciplines. Imagination refuses to take each 
block and beam at which we hew so wearily, and set 
it solid and fair in an inspiring picture of the future 
temple of the soul. But the divine architect has 
drawn for us, individually, a plan well-pleasing to 
himself. He would superintend its realization. Un- 
der his direction, no honest work, though it be done 


in the loneliest solitudes of life, which seem so profit- 
less, shall fail to contribute somewhat, in the full- 
ness of time, toward the building of that structure, 
which shall rise, without sound of hammer, or ax, or 
tool of iron, and which the God of Israel shall honor 
as his dwelling-place. 

Young Gentlemen of the Graduating Class: This is 
an hour of inspection, an inspection of foundations. 
At graduation, the structure has risen no higher than 
the basement story. To many there would be more 
satisfaction in the examination of a completed 
edifice. But you have noticed that there are not a 
few, who take special delight in visiting any locality 
where a cellar is newly dug and the masonry begins 
to show above the surface. Imagination is highly 
gratified by using the suggestions of the ground 
work, to divine the builder's purpose, and in vision 
to anticipate the super-structure. Even the little 
that has .been done says distinctly, either cottage, or 
mansion, or temple; whereupon appears some picture, 
with its prophecies of homely happiness, or of lavish 
display, or of inspiring worship. 

So now to you is directed the eager attention of 
this sympathetic audience. All are inquiring what 
sort of foundations have these youth been laying and 
what are they going to build. Within the next 
thirty days, you will hear the annual Jeremiad over 
the worthlessness of a college education, and over 
another host of young men turned out upon a world, 
in which they are utterly incompetent to master the 

There are probably present a few who are looking 
on with a mixture of contempt for what they have 
been doing the last four years, and of pity for you, as 


a fresh group of Innocents Abroad during the four 
years to come. 

But very different is the prevailing sentiment. 

Upon the countenances of instructors may be 
read approbation, congratulation and expectation. 

The speaker, after the most satisfactory and de- 
lightful year of his life as a teacher, utters only 
words of benediction. 

Yonder is a father who has occasionally seemed to 
you rather old-fashioned in some of his notions, you 
have been amazed that he should not always realize 
how much larger the allowance ought to be for the 
collegian of to-day than it was for the student of the 
last generation. Now and then, it has been hard to 
bear his incredulity about some of your statements, 
his independence concerning your opinions and his 
utter forgetfulness of what was due to Senior dignity. 
Nevertheless, he is this moment saying to himself, 
though he would not say it to you, that the invest- 
ment is a good one, that the boy has made a hopeful 
beginning, that the fellow is growing manly, and, in 
fact, that the son bids fair to be a great improvement 
on the sire. 

There is a mother pondering these things in her 
heart. She has always been doing a thousand 
services which you could not have got done for 
money, and which no other love would have thought 
of. You have taken then as matters of course, with 
scant appreciation. Sometimes you have chafed 
under her anxious watchfulness, and vented your 
vexation in words which you would not have uttered 
to your father. But she has forgotten it all this 
afternoon, and in her thought the past is sweet with 



cradle song, 'the present lights up with pride, and 
the future glows with anticipation. 

How big you look to the small boy in the family! 
And you will increase in magnitude till the complete 
transfiguration of commencement morning. 

And not far distant is the sister. Because she was 
only your sister, you have failed to be gallant, now 
and then, yet, as she looks this way, her face ex- 
presses nothing but radiant faith in what you are to 
do and to be. 

There, too, sits the sister of somebody else. She 
has never had occasion to suppose that a petulant 
word could fall from your lips, or a discourtesy mar 
your demeanor. She discovers no defect in the 
. foundation. God make your hands clean and your 
heart pure, that you may be worthy of the inspira- 
tion, and build according to the fairness of the 

And while you listen to that voice bidding you 
build for home, harken, also, to the united voice of 
this great congregation, calling upon you to build 
for society, and commonwealth, and republic. 

And, if there be one of your number, who, till this 
day, has neglected to lay the corner-stone of Chris- 
tian faith, let him now, in this sacred stillness, with- 
out sound of hammer, or ax, or tool of iron, bring 
into place that head of the corner, without which 
there can be no building for eternity. 




Cotton Mather declared that the best thought 
which New England had ever had, was the Christian 
college. He made the assertion, in view of the ser- 
vices rendered church and state by the institution in 
question. But the claim would be valid on financial 
grounds also. No other property of the same 
amount has been worth so much in dollars and cents . 
to Cambridge and the neighboring city of Boston as 
what is invested in Harvard. No other lines of busi- 
ness, with equal capital, have contributed to the 
wealth of New Haven as has the business carried on 
by the Yale corporation. A million dollars in fer- 
tilizers would not have given the Berkshire hills the 
real estate value imparted by Williams. In other 
parts of Massachusetts you ride for miles asking 
what is this region good for, till suddenly Amherst 
breaks upon the view, and you see what has made 
the railroad on which you have come. For its size, 
the richest plant in the city of Beloit is the plant of 
Beloit college. When men of strong faith knelt in 
the snow and dedicated to God the Wabash college 
that was to be, it meant a shower of gold for the 
Crawfordsville of the future. Financially it would 
be a less disastrous thing for Jacksonville to have 
her ten wealthiest men go into bankruptcy than to 
see Illinois College extinguished. What would prop- 


erty be worth to-day in Grinnell had the cyclone 
blotted Iowa College out forever? Solely on a com- 
mercial basis, dollar for dollar, the Christian college 
is the best thing ever thought of, east or west. 

And what is true for "town" is true for "gown." 
A college may fit a man to live, but it unfits him to 
make a living. He who would thrive in business 
has no business in any college except a business col- 
lege. Such is the creed of the world, the flesh and 
the other party. Study the annals of the pulpit. 
The ministers who draw the largest salaries in the 
largest cities are college-bred men. No others need 
candidate. This church would never think of wel- 
coming to its pastorate one who has not taken a de- 
-gree at some reputable institute of liberal learning. 
In the country towns, also, this question affects both 
the call and the compensation. There is not in the 
house a college-bred minister who does not know 
that the training received at his alma mater has put 
more money into his pocket than he could have got 
in the ministry without that training. There is not 
in the house a minister deprived of such early ad- 
vantages who does not feel keenly that the fact of 
the deprivation has always lowered his wages. 

. Other things being equal, the college puts more 
money into the pockets of the lawyer, big or little. 
Other things being equal, the college puts more 
money into the pockets of the physician, great or 
small. Such statements respecting the three learned 
professions will meet little opposition. But enter 
the province of politics, which borders upon the 
province of law. The facts fall less under common 
observation, and the brilliant career of some Henry 
Clay often blinds the multitude to the truth in dis- 


pute. But. read any history of England, written by 
whig or tory, radical or conservative, and you must 
acknowledge that the forces which have swayed the 
islands and the continents, have issued from the uni- 
versities rather than from the people or the throne. 
If, however, this is not conclusive, because few ex- 
cept university men have enjoyed those splendid op- 
portunities, study the subject in the light of Ameri- 
can democracy. I need not recite the well-known 
facts concerning representatives, and senators, and 
judges, and governors, and presidents. They sub- 
stantiate the assertion of Dr. Crafts, that the colleg- 
ian has seven hundred and fifty times as many 
chances of political eminence as any other man. 
Still, as germane to the strictly financial view of the 
theme, remember that all the secretaries of the treas- 
ury for the first twenty-five years of our, national 
life were college-bred; and that the same may be 
said of two-thirds of the secretaries of the treasury 
from the beginning until now. Salmon P. Chase, 
who filled that office so nobly during the darkest 
days of the rebellion, was a graduate of Dartmouth. 
When you turn from the high places at Washing- 
ton you confront the same fact in studying the great 
enterprises which have multiplied the wealth of the 
country a thousand fold. The prophetic spirit and 
the liberal hand of Chancellor Livingston, an alum- 
nus of Columbia, gave Fulton the courage and the 
money to launch the steamboat on the Hudson. 
DeWitt Clinton, a graduate of the same institution, 
thought out for New York her first great system of 
internal improvements, and gladdened the republic 
by "wedding the lakes and the ocean." Morse 
brought with his diploma from Yale the quickened 


brain which electrified the continent with the tele- 
graph. In a recent New Englander, Rev. S. H. Lee 
makes the happy hit that Charles Francis Adams' 
not only does not find the ancient fetich fatal to his 
own hold upon a Pacific railroad, but slyly slips into 
the best positions on the line the sons of that alma 
mater so roundly berated the other year. In a con- 
versation of railroad magnates not many months 
ago, when search was made for the man who com- 
bined the most remarkable capacity for details and 
the most wonderful mastery of principles, the choice 

fell upon Aldace F. Walker, a graduate of Middle- 
bury, now honored as the chairman of the inter-state 
railway association. 

It is well-known in literary circles that within a 
quarter of a century, college men have become the 
managers of almost all of the leading publishing 
houses in America. Twenty years ago it was ex- 
ceedingly difficult for a collegian to obtain a position 
upon a metropolitan journal. I am told that a 
favorite decoration upon the walls of more than one 
editorial sanctum, was the picture of a college 
sheepskin with a donkey's head protruding, and the 
degree of A. M. expanded into Asinus Major. But 
mark the change. I learn, by personal inquiry, that 
in 1872, on the business, editorial and reportorial 
staff of a leading secular paper in Chicago only two 
college men were employed, but that the number 
has been steadily increasing till now ten such men 
are employed. My informant states that this case 
is representative, that the same process has been 
going on in the other great dailies, and that it is safe 
to say, that the same proportion of college men have 
prominent places on the six most influential secular 


journals in the metropolis. What is true in Chicago 
must be true in the other principal centers of popu- 
lation. The colleges are pushing toward, the front 
in the editorial profession. 

Follow the inquiry into lines of business seemingly 
more remote from the higher learning. Cyrus Mc- 
Cormick, Sr., would not have given his son a liberal 
education had he supposed that it would spoil that 
son for a partnership with himself. And is not 
Cyrus McCormick, Jr., able to handle as many ma- 
chines as did his father? J. V. Farwell, Sr., took 
the same sort of risk with his boy. J. V. Farwell, 
Jr., is proving himself abundantly competent to oc- 
cupy the place of his sire when the latter shall be 
called up higher. 

Turn to the Yale catalogue for 1862 and you will 
see in the .graduating class the name of Franklin 
MacVeagh, the great wholesale grocer of Chicago. 
Though he enjoys writing articles which the maga- 
zines are glad to publish, and though you might sup- 
pose that his literary sense would have destroyed his 
taste for syrups and sugars, and that his college dis- 
cipline would have loosened his grip on tea chests 
and cargoes of coffee, go down to the corner of 
Lake and Wabash Avenue for enlightenment on the 

Ask E. W. Blatchford, whether he would have 
made more money, or less money, in funning oil mills 
and shot towers, if he had employed in some other 
way the four years spent at Illinois College. In 
Denver, only the other day, a friend informed me 
that he heard from N. S. Bouton, one of the fore- 
most iron and steel manufacturers of the interior, 
the statement that college-bred men were taking the 


lead of all others in the scientific manipulation of 
iron and steel. One of my own college professors 
is just now employed by a St. Louis syndicate as the 
chemist in perfecting a product which bids fair to 
supplant the Bessemer. 

Did time permit, these illustrations might be 
gladly multiplied, but this portion of the discussion 
must be brought to a close, and I content myself 
with quoting a recent letter from Charles A. Pills- 
bury, the senior partner in the great firm of Minne- 
apolis millers: " In answer to 'your favor, I would 
say that I have had several college graduates in my 
office. In every case they have given splendid sat- 
isfaction, as they learn the details much more rap- 
idly, and seem to take hold of the principles of 
business in a more business-like manner. In every 
instance that I can think of, the college graduates 
in our employ have either been promoted to the 
heads of their departments, or have gone into busi- 
ness for themselves. I think a man with a good 
college education and a few years discipline in a 
well-regulated business office, is as well fitted for 
business life as it is possible for a man to be." Here, 
then, I rest the contention in favor of college 
training, as a rich money investment for every vo- 
cation in which the brain is supreme over brawn. 

Next consider the college as a civilizing invest- 
ment. It was s*hown in the beginning that institu- 
tions of higher learning create and sustain com- 
mercial values in the localities where they are 

But this is not their chief recommendation to those 
who estimate riches aright. If nothing more could 
be said for them the plea now made would ill-become 


this presence. Colleges, while promotive.of wealth, 
temper the merely mercantile spirit, and prevent it 
from becoming a curse within the circle where their 
influence is felt. They rebuke the greed of gain for 
its own sake, and teach the legitimate uses of money. 
In this division of the theme no reference is made 
to the demands of religion. Attention is confined 
to the province of social science. For the time we 
are interested in nothing but the most excellent 
worldly citizenship. In a strictly earthly sense 
there is nothing finer than a certain charm, better 
felt than described, about an old college town. You 
get suggestions of it in the vicinity of some of the 
better institutions of the interior. But in its per- 
fection it is the product of generations and centuries. 

Transport a man from the prairies to the neighbor- 
hood of an institution which counts its years by the 
hundred and he will at first rebel against a certain 
donnishness, snobbishness and priggishness which 
he encounters at every turn. But, let him remain a 
few days and he. will discover, beneath, these surface 
eruptions, a quality of life which .he would gladly 
take back to his western home, but which he finds 
that he cannot separate from its surroundings, and 
that he could not transport and naturalize, if separ- 
able. , This quality can never ,be either exported or 
imported. It has to -be home-made. The agencies 
which produce it are always local. They issue from 
college centers. They.are felt inversely as the square 
of the distance. And, though you never know how 
far they reach, they make a vivid impression only 
within narrow bounds. 

In a democracy there is an irrepressible conflict 
between coarse quantity and fine quality. The for- 


mer has immense advantages in the struggle. The 
chief hope of the latter lies in the multiplication of 
institutions of higher learning and their general dis- 
tribution throughout the country. A few universities 
will not suffice. A few universities, with multitudes 
of colleges clustered around them at the great cen- 
ters of population, will not suffice. The question is 
not now raised whether the individuals who resort 
to such institutions would or would not receive the 
education best adapted to their personal wants. Re- 
member that we are at present considering the gene- 
ral influence of a college upon its environment. The 
centralization of educational forces in a republic can- 
not produce the highest civilization in a republic. 
Local contact between institution and people is in- 
dispensable. Fifty years ago the planting of western 
colleges was chiefly urged on the ground that young 
men on the frontier could not obtain an education at 
the east, because of distance, time and expense, but 
many now suppose that express trains have so 
reduced distance, time and expense, that the main 
argument has lost its weight, and the principal rea- 
son for the existence of fresh water colleges has had 
its day. But the great argument for the vigorous 
support of country colleges throughout the country 
grows more and more impressive with the carving 
out of every new territory and the admission of 
every new state. 

Said Henry Ward Beecher: "I plead for colleges 
as the shortest way of pleading for the people." 
That colleges may most abundantly bless the people, 
they must have closest neighborhood to the people. 
Leaven works through contact. I would not under- 
rate the mighty influence of primary and secondary 


education. Let our colleges heartily co-operate with 
the state superintendent of public instruction in his 
untiring efforts to dignify the district schools and 
the high schools of the common-wealth. The bet- 
ter they are the better will it be for liberal learning.. 
The cause is one. At the same time I venture the 
assertion that there is not a man in the house who> 
would subscribe more heartily than Dr. Edwards, 
himself to this emphatic declaration by Charles. 
Eliot Norton: "If our civilization is to be prevented 
from degenerating into a glittering barbarism of im- 
measurable vulgarity and essential feebleness; if our 
material prosperity is to become but the symbol and 
source of mental energy and moral excellence, it is 
by the support, the increase and the steady improve- 
ment of the institutions devoted to the highest edu- 
cation of youth." 

Though these agencies are unobtrusive in their 
ordinary operations, they assert themselves with 
tremendous power in the crises of history. Lord 
Cornwallis declared that the American revolution 
would not have broken out till half a century later 
but for Harvard. Moreover, college men fought as 
they thought and thought as they fought in the war 
for independence. So was it in the rebellion. Our 
own war governor was the first graduate of our 
oldest college. One of Dr. Theron Baldwin's most 
brilliant reports showed how the splendid achieve- 
ments of the gallant fellows who east and west for- 
sook their classes for the battlefield, won the ad- 
miration of the country and poured seven millions 
of dollars into the treasuries of deserted institutions 
from 1 86 1 to 1866. 

Listen to similar testimony from a traveler in the 


old world: "Robert College is the finest building on 
the shore of the Hellespont. Thither resort the 
young men of the first families of the east. They 
are of nine different languages, and of nine different 
religions. The result is that the administration of 
the east is coming largely into the hands of the men 
who have been trained in the college. ' ' 

You would have had no successful revolution in 
Bulgaria but for the presence of these men. Indeed, 
an authority whom every one would respect, has 
said that, powerful as England is in Turkey, from 
the strength of her navy, and from the successful 
diplomacy of Lord Stratford de Redclyff; powerful 
as France is from the ingenuity of her diplomacy 
and the traditional respect which the Sultan's gov- 
ernment has for the French; powerful as Austria is, 
from her contiguity and her rights on the Danube; 
powerful as Russia is because she has a policy which 
she will hold to generation after generation, yet the 
United States of America has more power in Turkey 
to-day than any one of these four great nations. 
And the United States owes that power almost 
wholly to the work of the young men "up and down 
through the east, who have 'been under the influence 
of Robert College." " 

Concerning teachers thus engaged, hearken to the 
quaint utterances of Lord Bacon: "Their love of 
learning is not natural curiosity, nor inquisitive ap- 
petite, nor for entertainment and delight, nor for 
ornament and reputation; not for victory of wit, not 
for lucre, not as a couch of rest, not as a terrace for 
prospect, not as a tower of pride, not as a fort for 
command, not as a shop for profit; but to give a true 
account of the gift of reason to the benefit and use 


of man, and to erect a rich storehouse for the glory 
of the Creator and the relief of man's estate." 

There are in our higher institutions of every grade, 
sixty thousand youth. There are within our borders 
sixty millions of people. Sixty thousand to sixty 
million. One to a thousand. Gentlemen, in the ad- 
vance of American civilization, the one leads the 

In the third place, consider the college as a Chris- 
tianizing investment. The three r's of the curriculum 
are reason, righteousness and revelation. The high 
places of the curriculum, are not only the Aventine 
and the Areopagus, but also Sinai and the .Mount of 
Beatitudes. . - : . 

The sixty thousand youth are not only the hope 
of the republic, but also the hope. of the kingdom. 
We often lament the fact that the colleges are send- 
ing into the ministry a smaller proportion of their 
students than at an earlier day. That fact is deplor- 
able. But it does not warrant the conclusion that 
the .institutions are abandoning the faith. Never 
before have they contained so large a percentage of 
religious students. Never before have the latter 
maintained Christian associations so vigorous. 

When we are distressed over the shortage in pulpit 
supply, we may find no little comfort in the thought 
that, if the colleges have lost relatively as a min- 
isterial agency, they have gained relatively as a gen- 
eral Christian agency. Formerly the ministry was 
the manifest destiny of the religious student. Lat- 
terly he recognizes no such law of moral compulsion. 
The conservation of forces prevails in the spiritual 
as well as in the natural world. What flowed in one 
strong current may diffuse itself and in lesser streams 


reach the same destination. Subtraction from a 
single profession means additions to other vocations. 
Christian life in college for quantity and quality is 
superior to that of other generations. The picked 
youth of the nation are congregated within these in- 
stitutions. And the selection is moral selection. 

Statistics show that of the seven millions of young 
men in this country only five per cent, are church 
members. But of the sixty thousand pupils in these 
institutions from thirty-five to fifty per. cent, are 
church members. The percentage of church mem- 
bers in the families of the republic is twenty. The 
percentage of church members in the colleges of the 
republic is more than forty. The boy is far safer in 
the average college than he is in the average home. 
He has more religious associates. He is brought 
under more religious influences constant and special. 
The chances are greater that he will retain his integ- 
rity, if upright, and that he will be converted, if a 

In addition to the action of youth upon youth 
should be mentioned the relation of teacher to pupil. 
We live in an age of specialties. College faculties 
are not composed so largely of ministers, as in earlier 
times. Many conclude that the professor's influence 
has lost much of its spirituality. This does not fol- 
low. The specialist makes a stronger instructor than 
would the clergyman in most departments, and he is 
not, as a rule, less earnest in his religious life. The 
only difference is that he is not so likely to magnify 
the ministerial profession before his classes. I have 
no doubt that the theological seminaries are suffering, 
to some extent, from the fact that the specialists are 
crowding the ministers out of the college faculties. 


On this score, but not on the score of general relig- 
ious influence, do I lament the change. 

Again, the curriculum itself is eloquent for God 
and Christ. This may not be evident in the earlier 
stages of the linguistic, scientific and mathematical 
discipline. But all such wearisome culture comes to 
rich fruitage in the later years. Our farmers some- 
times assert that they can literally see and hear the 
corn grow, as it thrusts out the ear and pushes up 
the tassel. No less wonderful and delightful is it to 
watch the sudden expansion of the intellect and the 
transfiguration of the moral faculties as the youth 
pursues the last quarter of his course. The studies 
of the senior year are as profoundly religious as any 
in the technical school of the prophets. The views 
thus gained for the first time concerning matter and 
mind and spirit and Creator and Redeemer are the 
noblest preparation for Christian citizenship. 

But while it is scarcely possible to over estimate 
the religious influence which the colleges exert upon 
the world by sending into all vocations those whom 
they have trained to love truth and righteousness, 
there is no other one way in which they manifest 
their Christianizing power so nobly as in the prepar- 
ation of candidates for the theological seminaries. 
Without a liberally educated ministry, the church 
cannot maintain her supremacy over mankind. Let 
there be no attack upon Salvation Armies. Cast no 
contempt upon any genuine evangelistic movement. 
Bid Mr. Moody and others God-speed in their 
efforts to prepare laymen for special work in city 
and country. Enlarge the schools of the prophets, 
so that there shall be room for the training of those 
who have had limited opportunities, but who exhibit 


marked natural abilities and boundless enthusiasm 
for the salvation of souls. Treat with the most 
brotherly affection all who, however poorly qualified, 
try to preach the gospel and to extend the kingdom 
of our adorable Lord. 

Still the power behind the throne of God on earth 
is and is to be a liberally educated ministry. A 
fervid, undisciplined evangelism may sweep through 
a territory with astonishing results, and yet be pow- 
erless to hold the region which it has overrun. No 
religious conquest can' be made permanent without a 
host of consecrated men thoroughly drilled in col- 
leges and theological seminaries. A denomination 
which recognizes this as a fundamental fact and 
governs its course thereby will prosper. A denom- 
ination which neglects to recruit the corps of the 
reserve will find its supremacy declining and vanish- 
ing away. Ecclesiastical history speaks with no un- 
certain voice upon this question. 

Methodism is the most instructive example. 
Though born at Oxford, on coming to America she 
concealed her university parentage and made her 
first conquests in the wilderness by the sword of the 
Spirit in the hands of enthusiastic, but illiterate, 
preachers. For fifty years she did not establish a 
single institution of higher learning on this continent. 
But then she discovered her mistake. She saw that 
if she would retain what she. had gained she must 
bring her pulpits abreast with the best civilization. 
She began the planting of colleges. That was in 
1815. Since then no other denomination has relatively 
made so magnificent progress in founding and foster- 
ing such institutions, and thus extending and con- 
solidating her power. 


Congregationalism laid the cornerstone of the first 
college on these shores nearly two centuries earlier. 
She has long borne the palm as the college building 
polity, but is she not in danger of losing her crown? 
Is it certain that some other denomination has not 
already taken it away? Our churches do not care 
for our colleges as they did in former days. Let the 
colleges languish and the churches will lose their 
grip on the western continent. 

On commercial, civilizing and Christianizing 
grounds, these institutions stand approved. 

The college! The old apostrophe is justified : 

" 0, relic and type of our ancestors' worth, 
That has long kept their memory warm; 

First flower of their wilderness, star of their night, 
Calm rising through change and through storm." 

"Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration 
of Independence and the founder of the University 
of Virginia!" Such was the epitaph written for him- 
self by our wisest American statesman. 

How consonant was the thought of John Bright, 
the best friend that America ever had in England! 
As in his old age he sat one day on the lawn of 
Goldwin Smith, at Oxford, looking at the towers 
and spires, listening to their chimes and yielding to 
the spell of the score of illustrious colleges cluster- 
ing there, he was overheard saying to himself : " It 
would be very pleasant to be eighteen, and to be 
coming here." 

Fellow-citizens, reckoning the population of this 
state at three millions and a half, and taking the 
statistics of the last report of the commissioner of 
education, you will find that we have only one dollar 


and twenty-two cents a head invested in the grounds, 
buildings, apparatus and endowment funds of all our 
colleges. No wonder that so few of our youth are 
inspired with a passionate love for liberal learning. 
No wonder that of the few so many seek their educa- 
tion in other states, which make munificent provision 
for the higher education. Is it not high time that 
we so equip the colleges of Illinois, that, in their 
beneficent presence, our sons shall be constrained to 
adopt the words of John Bright: "It is very pleasant 
to be eighteen and to be coming here." 

Young Gentlemen of the Graduating Class : Let these 
parting words follow the order of the address just 
delivered. You have been too well trained in logic, 
to find in the first part of the discussion any promise 
that the curriculum now completed will make you 
rich men. But you should cherish the conviction, 
that, no matter what vocation you may follow, you 
will get more dollars and cents out of that vocation, 
than if you had entered it without the training given 
by your alma mater. 

In the choice o-f a profession, ask yourselves very 
seriously, in what calling you can contribute most to 
the best civilization. 

The law is a noble profession. In itself, and 
through its affinity to politics, it is to an ambitious 
young man the most attractive of all the professions. 
It is, however, badly overcrowded. One person in 
nine hundred in the United States is a lawyer. 
David Dudley Field bewails this fact. He attributes 
to it the multiplication of scandals, divorces, and 
other abominations. 

Medicine is a noble profession. Still I have re- 


cently traveled through Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, 
Colorado, Iowa, Wisconsin and Minnesota, and I 
have not found anywhere a scarcity of physicians. 
Doctors are hunting for patients, not patients for 

But the whole region calls for farmers and teach- 
ers and ministers. The transformation of what used 
to be known as the Great American Desert, through 
irrigation and scientific cultivation, suggests what 
may be done by mixing brains with the soil, toward 
diversifying industries, and thus relieving markets 
now glutted with over-production in lines of busi- 
ness once lucrative. I have spoken so often of a 
better farming and of a more consecrated ministry, 
that I would emphasize at this hour only the call for 
teachers. Some one replies, "that is an easy thing 
for a college instructor to urge, but how would it be 
about going out and beginning with a country 

Young gentlemen, only a little while after I was 
standing as you stand now, and feeling as you feel 
to-night, I was teaching in Mud Prairie, on $2$ a 
month, and boarding around; and those were the 
most profitable weeks in my experience. Some of 
the money of which you have had the benefit in col- 
lege, found its way, the other year, into the treasury, 
from the pocket of one of those Mud Prairie direc- 
tors in 1858. When I came home one morning last 
summer, after long absence, the first thing to catch 
my eye was the funeral notice of a big-hearted, little 
old gentleman, whose latch-string was always out to 
the district school teacher in those days of board- 
ing around; and I said to myself that all other busi- 
ness must stop till I could go and say a few words 


over the coffin of Uncle Tommy Wright, of Mud 

Whatever you turn to as your life work, carry with 
you the purpose to dignify citizenship. Brother 
Hay den and I were entertained during the recent 
meeting of our State Association in Quincy, at the 
home of Mr. Edward J. Parker, a prominent banker. 
At the breakfast table, on the morning of decoration 
day, we fell to talking of our heritage of civil and 
religious liberty, and our host expressed the desire, 
that, on all memorial and festival occasions the stars 
and stripes might float above every school-house and 
college in the land, as an object lesson to the peo- 
ple. It was mildly suggested that -we had on the 
Hill an admirable place for the display of the na- 
tional colors. "You shall have the flag," responded 
our host. The tall tower of Sturtevant Hall is not 
a thing of beauty. Architecturally, it is fearfully 
and wonderfully made. The question has often 
arisen, what was it made for? The answer is, that 
we might fly 'the flag higher above the sea level than 
anybody else in Central Illinois. And so, .on com- 
mencement morning/if you Seniors, with all the 
other fellows, should gather there, and as the new 
colors are run up for the first time, crack your 
throats a trifle with the college cry for Illinois and 
the republic, it would signify that our American 
colleges stand for what is best in American citizen- 

Higher than the flag rises the cross. 

Next Tuesday evening the Christian Association 
will observe its first anniversary. The Alumni So- 
ciety,the Sigma Pi Society, and the Phi Alpha Society 
hold their celebrations triennially. The Christian 


Association will hold its celebration annually. It will 
then bring to the institution some gifted man from 
abroad, whose presence shall be the pledge unto 
God, that, every year, Christian doctrine shall have 
the first place of hpn.or at Illinois College. 


"Behold I have given him for a witness to the people; a 
leader and commander to the people." Isaiah Iv: 4. 


A rigid exegesis would confine the text to Christ 
and his earthly mission. Such were the limits of 
the prophet's vision. But it is legitimate to give the 
words a broader application. In describing the mas- 
tership of Jesus, the verse reveals the secret of all 
noble, spiritual dominion among men. Therefore,, 
instead of making it our great object to exalt the 
King of Kings in this discourse, let us use his illus- 
trious example, chiefly, to irradiate the general sub- 
ject announced in the beginning. The theme should 
be one of absorbing interest to an audience like 
this, assembled on such a occasion. 

Christ was a witness. He came from the bosom 
of God that he might make known unto men the: 
very heart of God. For thousands of years the race 
had been perplexing itself over that one question: 
" What is the heart of God? " " How does he feel 
towards his creatures? " And poets and priests and 
philosophers had been giving all sorts of answers. 
Perplexed by the contradictions, people exclaimed: 
" These are only guesses after the truth. Nobody 
knows. Poets and priests and philosophers fashion 
their deities and then make them the mouthpieces, 
of their own sentiments. Their communings are 
with their own imaginations, and not with an invis- 


ible Creator." The prophets of one favored nation 
had caught glimpses of Jehovah, and had uttered 
some limited revelations of his nature and designs. 
But they had failed to get audience with mankind. 
Choice spirits of various lands and ages had been 
thrilled by the mysterious movement of a Power un- 
seen, but adorable. Yet their doctrine gained no 
credence among the populace. 

The world clamored for a Witness. At length the 
Witness came, and the evidence was for the first 
time satisfactory. The primary function of Christ 
was testimony. And the primary function of every- 
one who, in his name, would bless mankind, is testi- 
mony. Jesus wins the world by forcing the world to 
believe that he understands perfectly and reveals in- 
fallibly, the heart of God. There is no hesitation, 
no contradiction in his words. He does not deal in 
hypotheses. He utters nothing but spiritual facts, 
from personal experience. 

Just there, by contrast, appears our weakness, 
Our testimony carries with it an indefinable sugges- 
tion of being traditional, or uncertain, or insincere.. 
We have heard from the Holy Oracles, or from 
saintly men and women, that such and such are the 
dispositions of Jehovah, and we so proclaim them, 
but the utterance lacks the weight and impressive- 
ness essential to insure conviction. That weight 
and impressiveness are impossible, unless the soul 
has been brought into intimate personal relations 
to God. Such nearness saturates, prints through so 
that the world must read. Men may try simulation 
but it will be in vain. Some resort to affectations 
of familiarity. Appellations of endearment, suitable 
between man and man, or between man and woman, 


are used in addresses to the deity. But the strain 
of unnaturalness or impropriety, defeats the pur- 
pose. A few are attracted, but more are repelled. 
* *. * < Others resort to affectations of awful rev- 
erence. Their cold and distant ritual is an offense 
to One , who has bidden men call him "Father 
in Heaven," and it fails to gain credit for sanctity 
among those who are seeking access to that Father's 

The secret lies deeper. It is independent of all 
externals. The men that captivate us, and bless us, 
are those who come to us fresh from communion 
with our Lord. They tell us with a directness and 
unction admitting no doubt, what they have seen, 
and heard, and felt, as they have walked with 
God, and talked with God, and communed with God. 
It is this which lays hold upon us in the sermons of 
Bushnell, or Taylor, or Brooks, in the prayers of 
Beecher, or in the personality of a Simpson, of a 
Hall, or a Goodell. Scholarship, rhetoric and ora- 
tory have their influence, but the breadth and depth 
of the knowledge of God are the real measure of 
power over man. It is the meagreness and shallow- 
ness of such knowledge of God, that soon make us 
weary of so many who profess to be the spiritual 
guides of the people. We come to say " that is 
bookish-ness, or a trick of style, or a cunning vocal 
modulation." Such things wear out in a few months. 
But let there be some ever fresh suggestion of the 
secret things which the Most High is ever revealing 
to one who abides in his very presence, and we never 
tire of the witness. 

You hear not a little about crossing the dead line 
and losing grip. These calamities are supposed to 


be the result of old age, or of premature intellectual 
decline. This is sometimes the explanation, but 
still more frequently may the reason be found 
in the shallowness of the man's religious experi- 
ences. He has never fathomed the unsearchable 
riches of Christ. His spiritual wisdom is little 
deeper than that of those whom he addresses. He 
has repeated the same testimony till it has lost its 
brightness. It is evident that he has told all that he 
knows of the nature of Jehovah, and that he is learn- 
ing nothing more. People have no further use 
for such a witness upon the witness stand; they bid 
him retire, and call another. The people are not to 
blame. These consequences may often be avoided 
by cultivating reverently, but resolutely, an intimacy 
with the Creator. That should be progressive. That 
ought to be the fundamental and constant study of 
those who seek moral supremacy over others. 
While a man continues to have some new and pre- 
cious message from above, the world will care very 
little whether the speaker numbers his years by two- 
score, or three-score, or four-score. 

Such testimony from the lips will have corrobo- 
rating testimony from the life. It may not shine 
through the countenance, as did the revelation of 
Jehovah through the face of Moses, but a quiet 
spirit will remove deep furrows of anxiety, queru- 
lousness will die out of the voice, and the person 
will be surrounded with an atmosphere of gracious 
serenity. Original traits will remain. The knowl- 
edge of God does not transform a nervous tempera- 
ment into a phlegmatic temperament, or a melan- 
choly temperament into a sanguine temperament. 
But despondency will give way to a prevailing cheer- 


fulness and a stimulating hopefulness. Moreover, 
when the consciousness of deity pervades the whole 
being, it imparts richness and sweetness to all other 
kinds of knowledge. There is a foolish notion that 
the cultivation of the closest relations between 
the earthly child and the Heavenly Father, will in 
some way narrow the faculties of the former, and 
hinder his acquisition of the most liberal and varied 
learning. But who that understands the constitution 
of the soul is ignorant of the fact that the exercise 
of the faculties upon any one great theme, enlarges 
their capacity for action in every department of in- 
vestigation? The closer man gets to the heart of 
God, the closer does he get to the heart of science 
and philosophy; for these are only the partial un- 
folding of those truths which were in the mind of 
the Omniscient from the beginning. The spiritual 
is the most brilliant illuminator of the intellectual. 
There is no fine, mental attainment which may not 
thus be glorified. The more numerous the provinces 
of investigation mastered, the more valuable will be 
our testimony for God. Only let us begin with that 
which should always be first, the knowledge of Him. 
For, say what we will to the contrary, there is to-day 
no other knowledge which the world so much needs, 
no other knowledge which the world is so eager for. 

And there is no other man who will command so 
quick attention, and draw so delighted an audience 
as he who, out of the depths of his own experience, 
can make some better revelation of what God is to 
the soul. 

But, in the next place, there must also be a knowl- 
edge of man, to whom this witness is delivered. 
Christ knew man as well as he knew God. He thus 


served as the easiest medium of communication be- 
tween the two. But with him no study was neces- 
sary. He embraced within himself the fulness of 
each. A glance within revealed both instantly. 
But with us the learning, even in the human direc- 
tion, is slow and laborious. In fact, the study of the 
finite seems often more perplexing than the study 
of the infinite. For the former, though insignifi- 
cant, is a tangle of petty contradictions, while the 
latter, though so great, is one grand harmony. The 
training of the schools is necessarily in the knowl- 
edge of books, rather than in the knowledge of men. 
Though books reveal men through the recorded 
thoughts of the latter, still the information is at second 
hand. The picture in the looking glass cannot be so 
satisfactory as the face. Usually, also, the man in the 
book is not the common man whom you expect to 
influence, and with whom you should, therefore, be 
the most eager to get acquainted. In a general way, 
human nature is the same in every station; but our 
biographies are chiefly of those who walk life's high 
places, and their circumstances give them a different 
complexion from that worn by the struggling crowd. 
Biographies serve a better purpose as models, or 
ideals, for ourselves, than as studies of character 
among the multitude. Even in the humble child- 
hood of Grant, the author is displaying real or sup- 
posed indications of manifest destiny, so that the 
boy figures as an uncommon common boy. If you 
would learn to be a leader of rail splitters, a day 
spent with some one who is working up white oak 
with maul and wedges, would give you much more 
light upon the subject than a day devoted to any life 
of the great rail splitter. So soon as one become", 


the hero of a book, an atmosphere of mirage gath- 
ers about his cradle, and it wraps him round all 
along till he sleeps in his coffin, and the king of ter- 
rors does not dispel it, even there. 

There is the same trouble when you turn to his- 
tory. The figures that pass before you are the larger 
figures, and they too, walk in an air of illusion, 
There is a haze that magnifies. Should men of ordi- 
nary stature appear, it is in great, moving bodies, 
so that no individual face is distinctly revealed. 
When an author like Knight, abandoning custom, 
sets about writing the story of the people, rather 
than of their rulers, he is only partially successful. 
You do get a better picture of the life of the multi- 
tude, but the colors run together, and only the great 
actors crowd to the front, so as to attract personal 
attention. Your interest centers in the man who 
wears the shoulder-straps and- who commands to fire, 
and not in the uniformed body that bites the cart- 
ridge and pulls the trigger. The general philosophy 
of history may be mastered fairly well without any 
remarkable knowledge of ordinary human nature. 
Though the nation is made up of individuals, it is the 
calculation of general averages which shows the 
trend of national life. That can be figured out in 
the study, without mingling with the people. But 
he that would himself shape the movements of the 
multitude, must make himself familiar with the inner 
thoughts of the individuals who compose the mul- 

The case is still worse with those who try to learn 
men through polite literature, for that is even 
farther removed from the plane of ordinary expe- 
rience. Polite literature manifests what is true of a 


small, select circle. We ought to read Goleridge 
and Wordsworth, and Emerson, and Browning, but 
surely not with the notion that we are thus to learn 
human nature as it is found on farm, in shop, in 
store, up and down the highways and the byways of 
the world. The mission of such authors is blessed. 
They come to us in hours of seclusion with messages 
of inspiration, when we have withdrawn awhile from 
the crowd, that in the ideal realm we may refresh 
ourselves for the better service of mankind. 

I am not a believer in that so-called realism in lit- 
erature which is the rage of the period. It is of the 
earth earthy. Still it makes one very plausible plea 
for favor. It claims to withdraw attention from those 
lofty themes and exalted personages that have hith- 
erto been far too prominent in the reading and the 
thinking of the race, to popularize every-day scenes 
and to dignify the ordinary men and women who 
are the actors therein. If the movement could be 
rescued from dirty manipulation by the French 
school of fiction, it might be made a blessing. A 
literature 'of common life, which should be kept 
clean and sweet, would prove exceedingly whple- 
some. It would be especially beneficial in bringing 
the upper classes of society to a better understanding 
of the lower. The study of such books would be a 
genuine study of man. It would help to quiet an- 
tagonism and to foster good will. 

The drama is better fitted than any other depart- 
ment of literature to give this knowledge of human 
nature on which I am insisting. There is no other 
secular book so good as Shakespeare, for study by 
one who would become a leader of .the people. No- 
where else do we find so complete and masterly 

1 74 


a treatment of the motives which sway all classes 
and conditions of men. Hamlet and the grave- 
digger serve the purpose equally well. The mind of 
the dramatist swings with perfect ease and impar- 
tiality from the soliloquy of the prince to the talk of 
the clown. The author seems to have no more fond- 
ness for the former's lofty speculation on life and 
death, than for the latter's homely philosophy, as he 
handles- the skull of poor Yorick just dug out of the 
clay. You are made no better acquainted with 
Macbeth, and Lear, and Othello, and Richard Third, 
and Julius Csesar, than with Quince, and Snug, and 
Bottom, and Shallow, and Dogberry. Still, notwith- 
standing this fidelity to nature without regard to 
rank or vocation, the setting of the sixteenth cen- 
tury is not the setting of the nineteenth century, and 
the whole procession of figures moving through the 
plays of Shakespeare will not give you so valuable an 
insight into life and character as you may get by the 
personal study of the men and women you meet 
every day. 

Yet mark you this : the study must not be cyni- 
cal, but sympathetic, if you would have it tributary 
to your moral supremacy. It is tender affection 
blending with clearest vision which is drawing all 
toward Christ as Master and Lord. On our part, 
worse than ignorance respecting human nature 
would be contempt for it engendered by familiarity 
with its weakness and wickedness. Said one to me 
who had had wide experience in dealing with all 
classes of people : " You ministers move about in 
blissful ignorance of the meanness, the 'malignity, 
and the rottenness of society. You paint pretty 
pictures of generosity, fraternity and righteousness. 


They are rather attractive as fancy .sketches, but 
what are they worth? They may please a few 
deluded optimists. The multitude, however, only 
laughs at your innocent simplicity, and goes its way, 
leaving you to your unsophisticated dreams of 
Utopia. If you would quit this realm of imagination 
where the women are so angelic, and the men are so 
saintly, and find out what miserable sinners and 
hardened reprobates make up the body of society, 
your sweet charity would turn to gall, and then your 
tongues might do something toward lashing the 
world into decency." 

Now there is too much truth in the charge that 
ministers, shut up in their studies, and much given 
to contemplating ideals of moral excellence, endow 
carnal creatures with a spirituality wanting in fact. 
Such ignorance is deplorable. It ought to be re- 
moved. But God forbid that in the process of dis- 
enchantment, love should turn to scorn, and speech 
become a whip of scorpions. The last state would be 
worse than the first. Christ knew all about the 
woman, that was a sinner and the man that was a 
thief. His nature recoiled as can no other from lust 
and crime. But what were His feelings and His ac- 
cents, in the temple, and on the cross, when He said 
to the woman : " Go and sin no more ; " and to the 
man: "This day shalt thou be with. me in paradise!" 
We are all both far worse and far better than we 
seem. This should make us very strong and very 
gracious in our ministry. Overt acts may fall within 
the pale of strict propriety, but should we unmask 
the thoughts that come close and look eagerly upon 
the forbidden, when we are nevertheless restrained 
from transgression by some providence outside our- 


selves, all the world would point the finger and cry 
shame ! Such facts ought to make us most 
clement in dealing with those who have had no 
guardian presence to restrain them in temptation, 
and have brought upon themselves open disgrace. 
Two walk together up to a certain line, neither any 
better or any worse than the other. But that line is 
the brink of an abyss. One, unrestrained, goes over 
and is lost. The other, held back by an unseen 
hand, turns aside, and' society never suspects what he 
was saved' from. Has he any cause to glory in his 
superior virtue? Had that unseen hand been laid 
upon the shoulder of his companion, that companion 
would now be walking in the sweet upper light, and 
he -himself would be an outcast in the nether gloom. 
'What spirit should this breed in us all? Not 
phariseeism. It ought to excite a yearning to rescue 
those who just now stood on the same social plane 
and the same moral plane as ourselves. Let there be 
no pity. Pity hurts, it does not heal. But sympathy 
never hurts, it often cures. You have read of the 
man who went to a convict, and said to him: " My . 
dear fellow, I know all about your case. And but for 
the special grace of God I should be just where you 
are to-day." The convict looked up grimly arid 
said fiercely: "You don r t mean it, you hypocrite." 
"I do mean precisely that," replied the other. And 
the convict glared upon the man awhile. And the 
man met the look with a gaze that was honest and 
full of sympathy. And the tears began to flow from 
the eyes of the man. And the tears began to flow 
from the eyes of the convict. And hand sought 
hand. And the convict said, " Though prison walls 
must separate us, I am saved. I can be, and I will 


be, once more a man, because your heart has conquered 
mineT To be a savior, it is not necessary that you 
should commit the same crime as he whom you 
seek to rescue, but you must show that you have 
felt the same fierce temptation, and have barely es- 
caped, and also that any sense of superiority is for- 
gotten, so that you suffer with the criminal, almost 
as if you were yourself a reprobate. That brings you 
near, and gives you grasp, and clasp, and uplifting 
and transforming power. All these hair-breadth 
escapes from moral disaster, which you and I have 
hidden among the secrets that no other mortal 
knows about, are our best equipment for rescuing 
the perishing. We need not make specific con- 
fessions, but we must suggest enough, so that he 
whom we approach shall, with a start of surprise, 
say, " Why, this man whom the world calls immac- 
ulate, has just missed being what I am; he feels pre- 
cisely as I have felt; he has come along the same 
forbidden path, only he stopped one step short 
of the chasm into which I fell; he knows all about it; 
he suffers with me; he cannot bear to have me lost; 
I will not be lost." This is the secret of moral 
leadership. These are extreme cases, but the prin- 
ciple covers the whole domain of trial, trouble, dis- 
appointment, defeat, calamity and anguish. The 
leader there must have his baptism of grief and of 
tears. It is the suffering deeply cut into the heroic 
face that makes you always turn for one more look 
at Lincoln's picture in history and Dante's picture 
in poetry. While in tragedy the central figure is 
that of the Man of Sorrows, whose lifting up on 
Gethsemane is drawing the world that way. 

But we are all likewise far better than we seem,. 


and that fact opens other possibilities of leadership. 
The most plodding mortal is not forever walking in 
the dust and stumbling among the clods. He, now 
and then, gets well up the mount of transfiguration, 
and catches a glimpse of the shining ones, and, like 
Peter, and James and John, is bewildered by celestial 
voices. Such rare and fleeting experiences ought to 
be to us both benediction and inspiration. They 
deepen the conviction, that God is our heavenly 
Father; that the phrase is something more than a be- 
witching metaphor; that we are indeed his beloved 
children, having even here in the flesh some likeness 
to Him. And there spring up in the heart beliefs, 
hopes and aspirations inexpressibly precious. God 
give us a quicker insight, and a more joyous sym- 
pathy with these radiant characteristics of the peo- 
ple that we mingle with day after day. Trooping 
from morning-land comes a host of young men and 
maidens, eager to follow one who will interpret 
aright these vanishing visions and make them an 
abiding possession, temporal no less than eternal. 

The world resists arbitrary power more and more. 
The independence of the individual was never before 
so stoutly asserted. The weak are learning to com- 
bine more successfully against tyrannical masters. 
Still there has never been a time when moral 
supremacy was so welcome. Society is eagerly 
looking about to find those who have a profound 
knowledge of God and of man, a rich spiritual 
experience, a cordial sympathy with others, in their 
struggle with the carnal, and in their aspirations to- 
ward holiness. Society says to such, be ye not only 
leaders, but commanders of the people. Those who 
would die before they would submit to a despot, be- 


come the enthusiastic followers of one who rises 
above them in divine and human wisdom, in brother- 
ly affection for the fallen, and in winged hope for 
those whose hearts are fixed upon the crown of life. 
They are not quite satisfied with words of counsel 
from his lips. They bid him speak with authority. 
Down, deep in their souls, men do love such a 


In lesser and in larger circles, there are thrones 
waiting for kings innumerable. God bids us all thus 
to be witnesses, and leaders, and commanders of the 

Young Gentlemen of the Graduating Class: Espec- 
ially urgent is this divine call to those who have 
just completed the college curriculum. The studies 
of the Senior year encourage moral thoughtfulness 
and moral earnestness. Man, as an individual, as a 
member of society, and as a son of God, engrosses 
the attention. I rejoice that, in addition to the 
ordinary influence of the investigations which you 
have been pursuing, you, in common with your 
fellow students, have within the past few months ex- 
perienced a gracious quickening from the Holy 
Spirit. With some, religious life has been revived; 
with others, it has just begun. Do you not feel at 
this hour a new sense of obligation, to go out into the 
world as "witnesses to the people?" Cultivate, then, 
first of all a profound knowledge of God as he is re- 
vealed in Christ, that your testimony may have con- 
vincing power. 

In the second place, enter now upon a more com- 
prehensive study of man. The college world is a 
very delightful world, still it differs greatly from the 
wide, wide world which you are to enter. Never 


abandon the scholarly ideal. Join not the ranks of 
those who would betray liberal learning into the 
hands of the Philistines. Do not, on the -other side, 
withdraw into a select literary circle, and dwell there 
in donnish exclusiveness. Seek to be "leaders of the 
people." Within a twelve-month you will find that 
they are in no hurry to follow the young college 
graduate. The winning ways which he has learned 
to practice with the college boy, or the college girl, 
prove a misfit when .tried upon the multitude. 

To the knowledge of the schools and books, 
and of those who live in the schools and books, pre- 
cious as it is, add the knowledge of those who look 
with indifference, or suspicion, or hostility upon 
attainments which are, in your eyes, of supreme im- 
portance. Cultivate and manifest an interest in men 
as men, without regard to station or vocation.. 
Study them, through close contact, amid homes and 
callings of every description. Convince them that 
this is not from idle curiosity, not from selfish mo- 
tives, but from a genuine interest in their welfare. 
After such qualification for leadership, there will 
arise a temptation to expect too much in the way of 
personal appreciation from those whom you seek 
to serve. " Do good, hoping for nothing again," 
said the Great Leader. It -costs grievous pangs to 
learn that secret. When you find that men are fol- 
lowing mainly for what they can gain by so doing, 
and that they will desert when there is no personal 
profit in loyalty, it will hurt sorely, and there is dan- 
ger that you may become bitter and misanthrophic. 
Resist that bravely, and, in the course of years, to 
mitigate your disappointment, will come blessed ex- 


pressions of confidence and affection from sources 
wholly unexpected. 

The leader who keeps his faith unshaken, his hope 
buoyant and his love ardent, through this long and 
trying ordeal, must finally become a "commander of 
the people." ' 

I do not hold up before you to-night the glitter- 
ing prizes of private and public life. I do not 
know whether they would be obtainable by you 
all. I do not know whether they would be desirable 
for you all. But moral supremacy is possible for 
every one. Moral supremacy would be an unspeak- 
able blessing to every one. Therefore, unto that 
aspire. Pursue the ideal with the studious fidelity 
which has been your distinguishing peculiarity as . a 
class, throughout the college course, and, whatever 
your vocation may be, wherever your lot may be 
cast, you will, in this highest sense, be " command- 
ers of the people." 


" And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out 
my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and daughters shall 
prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men 
shall see visions." Joel ii : 28. 


This is only one of several agencies thus employed, 
but it differs radically from all the others, in the 
nature and results of its operation. 

The life of the child is chiefly a life in the senses. 
Through touch, he derives his primary knowledge of 
the external world. At first, he literally apprehends, 
with his hand. Presently, smell, taste, vision and 
hearing begin to thrill him, with their peculiar de- 

It is a charming sight to watch him indulge in the 
various enjoyments of the wonderland which he 
explores. There is no more disposition to criticise 
the play of the child than that of the calf, the colt 
or the kitten. 

But, before long, a contrast appears. It becomes 
manifest that this life in the senses is the only one 

* Serious illness during the spring of 1891 prevented Presi- 
dent Tanner from delivering the Baccalaureate Address, his 
place being supplied by Rev. Wm. H. Milburn, D. D. The 
sermon already prepared for that occasion, he planned to 
preachbefore the class of 1892; but another, the acting president, 
Dr. Harvey W. Milligan, read it for him four months after the 
writer was gone. 


of which the animal is capable, and that, in a state 
of nature, he may be left free to follow his appetite, 
without any change for the better or the worse. Not 
so, however, is it with the child. Keep constantly 
before the animal an unlimited supply of all things 
eatable, and he will never damage himself. Instinct 
shields him from harm. 


Yet, when you expose the child thus, he brings 
upon himself all kinds of sickness. He must be re- 
strained by others, or taught by the pains of ex- 
cess, to restrain himself. Let him continue living 
to eat and drink, instead of eating and drinking to 
live, and finally the sense of taste will transform him 
into a gross and carnal creature. 

The senses of sight and hearing exercise little 
practical influence over brutes. You notice some 
sensitiveness to both color and sound, but, only in 
exceptional cases, can either beauty or harmony, be 
said to make, or mar, the happiness of beasts and 
birds. Sight and hearing are, however, mighty fac- 
tors, in the weal or woe of the human race. 

They have an office essentially nobler than that of 
taste. They cannot so easily be prostituted to base- 
ness. They call attention away from the lower to 
the higher functions of the physical system. 

They develop the aesthetic nature, and serve as a 
check upon appetite. Let them gain the ascen- 
dency, and you will find that they have to some ex- 
tent an expulsive power over the lower propensities. 

The mere sculptor, or painter, or musician, ranks 
in the scale of being, far above the one who takes as 
his motto: "let me eat and drink to-day, for to-mor- 
row I die." Sight and hearing may thus so far get 
the mastery of appetite as to transform a groveling 


disposition, into one which delights in pictures and 
statuary and song. Still, you have not yet crossed 
the distinct boundary, which separates the realm of 
aesthetics from the realm of ethics. Neither sep- 
arately, nor combined, can the senses effect a blessed 
moral transformation. 

Now, -will sin do it? This is a question which 
Hawthorne discusses, in that fascinating and power- 
ful piece of fiction: The Marble Faun. He presents 
you, at the outset, with the picture of Donatello, a 
being with all the senses in perfect accord, a being 
that furnishes the missing link in the development 
theory, protected, by inherited animal instinct, from 
the physical miseries which ordinary humanity in- 
curs through over-indulgence, and still of sufficient 
intellectual endowments, to get a moderate enjoy- 
ment from the reasoning faculties, but with the 
moral sense wholly dormant. 

A love which is partly animal, partly human, takes 
possession of this strange creature. Instigated some- 
what by his own fondness, and somewhat by the 
look and gesture of his beloved, he, in a moment of 
frenzy, hurls her persecutor down a precipice to de- 

What had just before had no more moral quality to 
him, than to an eagle has the death of a lamb, for the 
feeding of her young, or the killing o-f any animal 
has to a mastiff, in obedience to the bidding of his 
master, suddenly arouses conscience, as it is struck 
by the fangs of remorse. The soul is torn by a 
mighty convulsion. What had seemed only the nat- 
ural and legitimate death of a hated object, all at 
once shocks the eye as MURDER, written every- 
where in characters of blood. That mangled body 


at the foot of the cliff, will not stay buried by day. 
It cries out in the visions of the night. Donatello 
may repair to his former haunts in field and forest, 
but the fountains turn crimson, and Undine hides 
from sight. Timid animals steal out from their re- 
treats to frisk about him as of old, but, as he beck- 
ons them closer, they detect a clot of gore upon his 
hand, and vanish. The birds began to respond to 
his call, but suddenly the music dies out of their 
throats, and they whirl and whirr back into the 
thickets. All the blessed harmonies of nature have 
become only a succession of cruel discords. 

Human society affords no relief. Upon every 
man's face, there is either the cunning smile of the 
betrayer, or the scowl of the avenger. 

From the very woman for whose sake the deed of 
darkness was done, the culprit feels a shuddering 
recoil, till, after distressing months of compassionate 
ministry on her part, a pitiful reconciliation is ef- 

But this brings no happiness to either. In rustic 
scene and city carnival, the two do now and then try 
to forget their common woe, still a ghost tracks them 
in their disguise, and a death's head grins at them in 
the midst of their wildest pranks. 

Instead of the animal frolicsomeness and the hu- 
man giddiness of the earlier period, you behold a 
physical tremor and a self-tormenting spirit in Don- 

You cherish a certain respect for the moral 
thoughtfulness and the merciless self-accusations of 
the wretched creature. You say justly, that there is 
in him more that is noble, than there was before he 
became involved in the tragedy. Out of a happy 


animal, has come an unhappy man. Still, though 
you sympathize profoundly with the latter, and de- 
clare that he stands higher than the former in the 
scale of being, you would rather be the animal than, 
the man, if no further advance were possible. 

Sin has wrought a transformation, but it were bet- 
ter not wrought if the process must stop there. Sin 
working alone through remorse cannot bring peace. 
Sin in itself is not a benefactor. 

I do not know precisely what doctrine Hawthorne 
meant to teach by the fiction. I presume that he in- 
tended to leave the subject enveloped in the haze of 
speculation, just as he refused to testify, whether 
the ears of Donatello were furry, or not furry.. 
Neither naturalist nor spiritualist can make much of 
Hawthorne as a witness, in a case tried before a jury 
empaneled in the ordinary fashion. His subtle spirit 
delights in tantalizing all in court, by his bewildering 
hints and evasions. 

But so much is clear in the light of the story. Sin 
may, through remorse, effect a sort of moral trans- 
formation, but not a happy moral transformation. It 
may arouse a giddy soul, so that that soul shall lose 
all relish for the sensual and sensuous gratifications 
which have hitherto been its delight. But sin has 
no satisfactory substitute to offer. It reveals the 
shallowness and the wickedness of the past life. It 
may awaken better longings, still it makes no prom- 
ise of their realization. The victim is driven up 
and down the world by an accusing spirit, or, in an 
extreme case like that of Donatello, he may in de- 
spair confess his crime, and, tormented by an accus- 
ing conscience, end his days in a malefactor's cell. 
Sin is not, as some would have us believe, an angel 


in disguise. Sin has no mission of mercy and benef- 
icence. When we fall into guilt, we fall downward, 
not upward. The logical issue of sin is DEATH. 

Now advance a step, and take from the realm of 
fiction another short study of the doctrine of trans- 
formation. Shift the scene from Italy to Egypt. 

In the " Bride of the Nile," George Ebers very 
happily portrays the transforming power of woman 
over man. Orion is a youth of noble lineage, rich,, 
handsome, gifted, the prince of good fellows, gener- 
ously disposed and popular, but of lax morality in 
the gratification of every desire. He has been 
trained to think that the rights of others should be 
subordinated to his personal happiness. In his pur- 
suit of pleasure, the sufferings of those around him, 
when caused by his conduct, excite no distressing 
upbraidings of conscience. He never raises the 
question, but that man was created to be the ser- 
vant of his ambition, woman the victim of his fugitive 

He meets Paula, his equal in rank and accomplish- 
ments, but trained in the school of adversity, and, in 
addition to a moral nature highly sensitive, taught by 
experience to respect the rights of the lowly, as well 
as of those in exalted station. 

It is a case of mutual fascination and antipathy. 
Each is irresistibly drawn toward the other. Still 
both feel a strange repulsion. Orion is compelled to 
recognize in Paula a moral ideal which he has not 
seen before. 

He is, one moment, forced to admit its excellence. 
The next moment, he is exasperated by its silent re- 
proach of his own self-indulgent character. Though 
Paula reads him no lectures, he half-confesses her 


superiority, and yet vows to humble her, because 
her presence disturbs his self-complacency. Paula, 
on the other hand, beholds in Orion great brilliancy, 
many shining possibilities, many manly qualities, by 
which she is not a little attracted, still these are 
so beclouded by his lower passions, that she is 
driven to take shelter from his presence, in womanly 

Which shall conquer? Shall he humble her lofty 
spirit, which, by contrast, rebukes him and fills his 
breast with a sense of 'self-abasement?' Shall she, 
abiding by her high moral standard, lead him little 
by little, to a finer conception of life? Can she ever 
succeed in inducing him to abandon his youthful 
weaknesses and vices, to heed the responsibilities of 
his birth-right, and to realize his splendid oppor- 
tunities? For years the conflict goes on, but finally 
the woman prevails, and the man becomes the bene- 
factor of the people in whatever pertains to material 
prosperity and physical well-being. 

I cannot recall, in fiction, a happier illustration of 
woman's power, to bring man up to a recognition of 
his obligation, to subdue his baser propensities, and 
to promote the happiness of all within his sphere of 
influence. You may think of cases even more strik- 
ing in the novel, or in real life, but you must admit, 
that, in the realm of fancy and of fact, woman, 
unaided, can not raise man above the line which 
separates the rights of the creature from the rights 
of the Creator. A woman may transform an im- 
moral man into a moral man. But, if the process is 
to continue, and the moral man is to be transformed 
into a religious man, a still higher agency must 
operate, namely, the Spirit of God. It is true that 


that Spirit may employ a great variety of means; He 
may work through instrumentalities animate and in- 
animate, still He remains the original source of 
power. The spirit of woman is the purest and most 
exalted of these instrumentalities, but it is after all 
only an instrumentality, when you pass from morals 
to religion. Remember that morals concern our re- 
lations to man, that religion concerns our relations 
to God. Woman, without God, can lift man to the 
plane of morality. Woman, without God, cannot 
lift man to the plane of religion.' 

I have dealt so long with moral transformation 
that I might draw the distinction very sharply be- 
tween that and the religious transformation, which is 
described in the words of the text. 

Do not belittle what other agencies can accom- 
plish. Magnify them to the utmost. Such fairness 
disarms criticism, meets the charge of narrow-mind- 
edness, and enables you to set forth more convinc- 
ingly the nobler truth which you seek to establish. 

When, then, the Spirit of God is poured out, the 
transformation wrought is different, not in degree, 
but in kind. It is regeneration, and its product, a new 
creature. We have seen that sin can do no more 
than disturb spiritual indifference, and excite spirit- 
ual unrest. We have seen that woman, the purest 
and most exalted of created beings, can, at best, 
only lead man to a recognition of his duties to his 
fellow man. 

But here is a finer and mightier agency, which can 
accomplish all that the others can accomplish, and 
can also bring the soul into harmonious relations to 
its Author, and fill it with the peace which passeth 


This blessed influence encircles those in every 
period of life. "Of such is the kingdom of heaven," 
says Christ of little children. "Heaven lies about us 
in our infancy," says Wordsworth, The voice of the 
King and that of the seer are in happiest accord. 
Such is the general tenor of the gospel and of com- 
mon experience. 

The text, however, does not linger with those of 
that tender age, but speaks first of sons and daugh- 
ters, boys and girls, those who are old enough to 
bear specific testimony to the change which is 
described. As a result of what has taken place, they 
"prophesy." Here, as often elsewhere in Holy Writ, 
the word does not signify to foretell events, but to 
declare that which is not the suggestion of nature; 
that which would have remained unknown, without 
supernatural intervention. This is not to claim that 
the change always takes place "with observation." 
The contrary is true in many instances. But, without 
discussing the question of dating conversion, it is 
sufficient for the present purpose to maintain that, 
after conversion, the boy and girl do lead a different 
life, do speak a different language, do bear witness 
to a different range of experience. This is most 
conspicuous in a season of revival. The view is 
clearer and the barriers of reserve are swept away, so 
that we look in upon the secrets of the soul. One 
encourages another to free expression. Sometimes, 
doubtless, this leads to impulsive over-statement, 
still proper care will enable us to discriminate be- 
tween the fanciful and morbid, and the genuine and 
wholesome, in these revelations of the inner life. 
Throw out all that is fictitious and exaggerated, and 
there will remain what may be taken safely as the 


substantial experience of those in question. You 
can not doubt that the declarations are sincere. You 
can not doubt that they fairly reflect what is trans- 
piring within the heart. Now, it is very desirable 
that this freedom of expression should continue after 
the period of wide-spread religious interest has 

An unobtrusive, but confident avowal of what God 
is to them every day is most becoming in boys and 
girls. It acts as a safe-guard against relapse, first 
into indifference, and then into positive wickedness. 
It rebukes the doubts and confirms the faith of their 
associates, and of those more mature in years. The 
golden mean should be sought between undue re- 
serve and undue exposure, concerning these sacred 
relations of the child to its heavenly Father. 

The danger used to be in the former direction. 
The subject of religion was so presented that boys 
and girls came near it with bated breath and palpi- 
tating hearts, as they came near a haunted house, or 
a grave-yard after night-fall. They learned to speak, 
in holy tones, of shadowy fears and trembling hopes. 
Cheerful confidence seemed presumption, out- 
spoken assurance, a profanation of the holy of 

Some think that we are rushing to the other ex- 
treme; that we are destroying reverence; that we are 
coarsening the relation between the finite spirit and 
the infinite Spirit; that the current of religious ex- 
perience is no longer permitted to flow on deep and 
silent, but is drawn off into a broader but shallower 
bed, over which it spends itself in froth and noisy 

Such warnings ought to be heeded. We should 


not forget the temptations to insincerity, pretension, 
cant and hypocrisy, to which the young as well as 
the old are exposed. Still, boys and girls whose 
hearts have been changed by the Spirit of God, 
should foster the habit of testifying modestly, but 
joyfully, concerning the preciousness of redemption. 
The young people's societies of various names are 
the normal training schoolsfor such religious devel- 
opment. Let the churches withhold from them 
neither faithful caution nor inspiring commendation. 

Thus shall not only sons and daughters " proph- 
esy," but young men and women "see visions," not 
merely such visions as delight all, at this intoxicat- 
ing season, but visions which blend the transient 
with the permanent, time with eternity. Visions of 
youth ! What can be more entrancing ? The 
pulse quickens at the mention. Childhood catches 
some idea of their full meaning from its own half 
suggestions of coming possibilities, and impatiently 
crowds forward that the tantalizing glimpse may be 
exchanged for the well defined pictures of a more 
mature imagination. 

These visions may be terrestrial only, or they may 
mingle the terrestial with the celestial, but visions of 
some sort youth must have. 

Those of the terrestrial kind are earth-born. Some 
reveal shapes gross and carnal. Others display 
forms material but beautiful. Others still, shine 
with the brilliant creations of chivalry anc romance. 
These reach the very border-land of the spiritual, 
and often seem to fetch the divine within their com- 
pass. After they have vanished, second childhood 
looks back to them as eagerly as first childhood had 
looked forward to them, and, in the retrospect, half 


forgets its feebleness and forlornness. I would not 
speak contemptuously of these more radiant terres- 
trial visions of young manhood and young woman 
hood. Nay, I recognize in them the sweetest and 
most blessed gifts which this world has to bestow. 

"The buried dream in life's sluggish stream, 
Is the golden sand of our young ambition," 

sang John O'Reilly. There would be a witchery in 
the smile of beauty, there would be an ecstacy in 
the voice of love; a halo would encircle virtue, and 
heroism would wear a crown resplendent, even were 
there no thought of the life immortal. 

But, O young men and young women, hope of 
home, hope of society, hope of the commonwealth, 
hope of the republic, hope of human civilization, 
there is something better still. Once let the power 
of the Holy Ghost transform your hearts, and 
visions more glorious shall break upon the view. 
Nothing truly precious will fade out of what you 
have previously cherished. 

The celestial will first transfigure the terrestrial. 

Beauty's smile will be more entrancing, love's 
voice will thrill as never before, the halo of virtue 
will grow supernal, and the crown of heroism, hith- 
erto resplendent, will glow in the light from beyond 
the stars. And then your vision shall sweep on be- 
yond these bounds of time and sense, and reveal 
the now open secrets of the endless life those 
things which the natural eye hath not seen, which 
the natural ear hath not heard, and which it hath 
not entered into the natural man to conceive. " I 
have kept well the bird in my bosom," said Sir Ralph 
Percy, as he lay dying on the field of battle. 

Believe me, these are no idle visions like those in. 

i 9 4 


which opium-eaters and lotus-eaters revel. These 
bring the soul no aimless reverie. They are its in- 
spiration to noblest activities. I hear you cry, 
" Thank God for such revelations unto us of what 
may be, must be, shall be realized, partly on earth, 
partly in heaven. Thank God that he calleth us to 
this blessed work for time and for eternity." Yes, 
welcome always whatever the Lord giveth you thus 
to see, as the divine intimation of what he would 
have you seek to be and to do. These are the vis- 
ions of youth to which he biddeth you be true. 

One precious reward of such obedience will be 
that these visions will gradually change into the 
dreams of old age. Such transition is tranquil and 
happy. The morning freshness, the impulsive ea- 
gerness, the irrepressible enthusiasm, the indefatig- 
able activities of the earlier day may pass away, but 
the spirit of the vision will remain in the spirit of 
the dream. 

Religious imagination paints the same pictures for 
the delight of the soul in old age. The outlines are 
not so sharp, the figures in the foreground do not 
stand out in colors so vivid and bold; but there is 
greater depth of perspective, a mellower atmosphere, 
a more tranquil hope. And the dream is no more 
idle than was the vision. Though the movement has 
become less tense and nervous, it is never intermitted. 
The tides of physical life have spent their violence, 
but they maintain a steady ebb and flow. Spiritual 
activities happily adjust themselves to these changed 
bodily conditions. Labors of love in the service of 
man and for the glory of Zion, though less conspic- 
uous, are no less acceptable to him who seeth in se- 
cret, and who awardeth special honor to those silent 


forces which are the great reserved power in the king- 
dom ot nature and in the kingdom of grace. 

And thus old age may journey down its glowing 
west, dreaming its inspiring dream, and fulfilling its 
beneficent mission, till it reaches the peaceful sea 
and joins in the parting song: 

" Twilight and evening bells, 

And after that the dark; 

And let there be no moaning of farewells 

When I embark. 

"For though from out the bourne of time and place, 

The floods may bear me far; 

I hope to see my PILOT face to face, 

When I have crossed the bar." 

" There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth." Prov. xi: 24. 

A young man of twenty-three has fought his way 
through college, has finished the study of law and is 
ready for practice. He is very poor. A dollar looks 

Just then, to him in .that Boston office, comes the 
offer of a county clerkship, at two thousand a year. 
Father and mother bid him accept the position. 
Never before had it seemed so easy to keep the fifth 
commandment. He rushes excitedly into the pres- 
ence of his teacher, for congratulation and a parting 
blessing. But the latter, with frowning brow, reads 
the letter and hands it back, remarking, "Your mis- 
sion is to make opinions for other men to record, 
and not to be a clerk, to record the opinions of 

Objection after objection is met, and the appointee 
sets out for his New Hampshire home, pledged to 
decline the situation. The worst is to come. He is 
welcomed at the threshold with embraces and kisses, 
by those whose old age he can still surround with 
ease and comfort. The struggle is fierce. Before 
him are pleading suggestions of filial affection, of a 
tranquil life, of a liberal income and of assured 
respectability. But, above him, there is a voice in 
the air. 

He makes known his resolution. An angry scene 
ensues. The father dismisses the son, exclaiming: 
"Silly, crazy boy! Daniel, you have come to no- 


thing." And the youth goes and rents an office at 
$15 per annum, and hangs out a cheap sign, and, at 
the end of two full years, the sum total of his fees 
is less than $40. Where are the $4,000? "Scattered" 
A quarter of a century has passed. The occupant 
has moved out of that dingy room in the old red 
store. The senate chamber at Washington is bril- 
liant with beauty and graced with genius, beauty and 
genius entranced as never before within these walls. 
Webster is answering Hayne. 

"There is that scattereth and yet increaseth." 
The outer leaf of biography often infolds another, 
stamped like itself, and written over with similar 
meaning. Said one to the sage of Marshfield, "Was 
that speech extemporaneous?" Replied Webster: 
"Young man, there is no such thing as extemporan- 
eous acquisition." " The materials for that speech 
had been in my mind for eighteen months." Such 
was the fact. The subject had been carefully studied 
for another expected emergency. That occasion did 
not come, and those papers were laid away as labor 
lost. But such toil is never wasted. Watch over the 
right with sleepless eye. Equip yourself for her de- 
fense, on the first suspicion of peril. Though the alarm 
prove false, and you unbuckle your armor unused, 
that armor is consecrated to holy service. It will 
hang without tarnishing, in the temple of truth. You 
shall prove it in battle some other day. Said the 
orator: "When Hayne took the floor, if he had tried 
to make a speech to fit those old notes of mine, he 
could not have hit it better." " No man is inspired 
with the occasion." 

Let us open another biography, rich in kindred 
instruction: Again we enter a lawyer's office. The 


student has left his note-book on the table. Turn to 
the first page and read the words of Coke: '''Holding 
this for an undoubted verity, that there is no knowl- 
edge, case, or point in law, seem it of never so little 
account, but will stand our student in stead, at one 
time or other." And again : "A lawyer must know 
everything. He must know law, history, philosophy, 
human nature; and, if he courts the fame of an ad- 
vocate, he must drink of all the springs of litera- 
ture, giving ease and elegance to the mind, and illus- 
tration to whatever subject it touches." 

This is the key-note of a career illustrious in Am- 
erican history. Is there any flatting in the tone? 
Strike again the text with its silver tines: " There is 
that scattereth, and yet increaseth." We are still in 

Thus opens the way to a chair, as associate in- 
structor with a Greenleaf and a Story. But the youth 
cannot rest easy, even there. He starts up, restless, 
with visions of " Men, society, courts and parlia- 
ments." His thoughts will take wing from quiet 
Cambridge, now to Paris, now to London, now to 
Rome. He must go and know. He must meet, face 
to face, those whose word is law, in the realms of 
art, literature and politics. Friends remonstrate. 
President Quincy tells him that Europe will spoil 
him, sending him home with a mustache and a 
cane." But his resolution is inflexible. Wonderful 
is the story of the reception given everywhere upon 
the continent, to this young republican, as yet un- 
known to fame. There has been nothing else like it in 
our annals. He returns. For two years he does noth- 
ing. He seems surfeited. His friends are distressed. 
His life, say they, is to be a splendid failure. For 


three years more, they watch the case with only trif- 
ling encouragement. But, across the sea, in the 
very midst of that old world bewilderment, a big 
idea had entered a big brain. There, was first re- 
vealed to Charles Sumner the dim outlines of "The 
True Grandeur of Nations." It took six years to 
give it distinctness and full possession of the soul. 
Then dawned July 4th, 1845. And the man broke 
the silence, and the republic and the world clapped 
hands. That oration was to Charles Sumner, what 
the reply to Hayne was to Webster. Each proved 
the decisive effort of a life-time. Each gave its au- 
thor immortality. 

For the present purpose it is needless to continue 
these biographies, Thus far they furnish happy 
^illustrations of the doctrine of the text, in the lower 
zone of its application. They show us how the 
words, " There is that scattereth, andyetincreaseth," 
in their majestic sweep take in such mere worldly 
success as is noblest. These examples are not caught 
up at random, but are chosen with a definite end 
in view. . 

It is manifest to one who studies the present drift 
of college life, that our youth are attracted more 
and more toward law, which, in turn, becomes 
the stepping stone to political power. Patriotism 
says, put the destinies of the country into the hands 
of men of the most liberal culture, men who have 
been schooled from boyhood to sacrifice the present 
for the future, the expedient for the true, the tran- 
sient for the permanent. It is to be more and more 
the mission of the American college to furnish, not 
only ministers of church, but also ministers of state. 
Her office in the first capacity has often been lauded 


most worthily. The suggestion, to-night, of the dig- 
nity of her calling in the second direction, needs no 
apology. Let, then, our young men who are aspir- 
ing to public station, learn to "scatter" like a Webster 
or a Sumner, that such may be the increase. 

Thus far all has been praise. To say no more, 
however, would leave a false impression. We are 
not at liberty to call up the shades of the great de- 
parted, and dismiss them with fulsome panegyric. 

We have, up to this point, been walking on the 
plane of what the godless world would call success. 
On that level there has been nothing to censure. 
Thus the kings of men get their crowns. But there 
is a higher realm of spiritual excellence where the 
crowns are incorruptible, and when these two famous 
diplomatists are put on trial there, they are found 
found wanting. They cease to be an example. 
They become a warning. 

Webster's view of the divine majesty was exceed- 
ingly noble. In hours of retirement he sometimes 
seemed to stand, as it were, in the very shadow of 
Jehovah. There was then a dignity in his utterance 
to which ordinary speech is a stranger. Said Im- 
manuel Kant: "Two things fill me with awe, the 
starry heavens, and the sense of moral responsibility 
in man." To such a sentiment the orator was ready 
to bow his head, and respond with a reverent Amen. 
It is easy to picture him, waiting as an august em- 
bassador in the outer court of the Almighty, ready to 
read some great state paper at the foot of the throne. 
There is no occasion to criticise his attitude, when he 
appears face to face with God. Banish the world 
from sight, then catechise him concerning the attri- 
butes of the Most High, and you would find no fault 


with the upper outlook of his creed. But that was 
the sum and substance of his religion. It was only 
a thing of the clouds, a gifted Lucifer's passing 
dream, vanishing before the seductions of carnality 
and the terrible strain of that presidential ambition, 
which tantalized till death. 

Webster's enthusiasm for self killed his enthusiasm 
for humanity, and the Nones of March were to him 
as the Ides of March were to Caesar. An exalted 
intellectual conception of God is well; but it will 
not atone for trampling on the rights of the hum- 
blest man. 

Sumner, on the contrary, never proved false to the 
rights of man. His heart remained true to his kind. 
With him it was the upper outlookthat was obscured. 
Let him speak for himself: " Ido not think that I 
have a basis for faith to build upon. I seldom refer 
my happiness to the Great Father from whose mercy 
it is derived. Of the first great commandment, then, 
upon which so much hangs, I live in perpetual uncon- 
sciousness" A life-long service in the cause of lib- 
erty, is well, but it will not atone for insolently waiv- 
ing the claims of a Heavenly Father's love. 

I have wished to make emph'atic the political bear- 
ing of the doctrine, seeking, 'both by the commend- 
ation and the condemnation : of two illustrious ex- 
amples, to present the ideal statesman, not as he has 
been, not as he is, but as he shall be, when love to 
God and love to man have recognition as the common 
law of government on earth.. 

This will explain what might seem an undue promi- 
nence to one division of the 'sermon. There is this 
additional advantage in -'such a treatment of the sub- 


ject : the examples held up before you so long are 
remarkable for scope of illustration. They ray out 
in all directions. They enlighten the whole province 
of truth covered by the text, so that it is unnecessary 
to expand the thought with equal pains in other de- 
partments. A single suggestion will enable the mind 
to pass rapidly and easily from vocation to vocation, 
till the compass of the idea is seen to be universal. 
" There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth." 

Take the principle into business. Thus princely 
fortunes are made. The trading posts of an Astor 
are "scattered " from the Hudson to the Columbia. 
The steamers of a Vanderbilt go ploughing up and 
down the Gulf Stream, while the long fingers of that 
iron hand are thrust out to find the very heart of 
the continent. So far, imitate. Thus a world's re- 
sources are to be developed. But what did either 
millionaire care for God or for man? And what does 
God or man care for either of them to-day? 

In the department of literary criticism, the two 
brighest names of the century are Macaulay and 
Sainte Beuve. How far-reaching is the plan of the 
former, when he decides to become a public censor. 
He would be impartial in judgment. But his fortune 
is humble, and he recognizes the danger of being 
warped in his estimates by pecuniary considera- 
tions. So, bidding adieu to country, and all 
thoughts of early fame, he sails for distant India, to 
gain there a competence that he may be independent 
of party and above suspicion of servility. That was 
a weary "scattering," but it is all forgotten as you 
read this tribute to his memory: "Macaulay never 
wrote a line that would degrade honor, or liberty, or 


virtue." Why could he not have kept down 
that monstrous egotism, that great I Am, that always 
seemed to walk between him and a still greater " I 
Am," and to make him utterly oblivious of the 
thoughts and feelings of other mortals ? 

You will find nothing more admirable of its kind, 
than the literary workmanship of a Sainte Beuve,. 
both in exhaustive research and fineness of finish.. 
There was no province too remote for his thought to. 
explore. No shining sentence might go forth to the 
world so long as diamond dust would add to its lus- 
tre. Yet, though the most discriminating critic of 
the masters of pulpit eloquence, he had no knowl- 
edge of Jehovah, and died and was buried as a 

It is possible to live thus, just above man, and just 
below God. 

The tiny fingers of a child of five grasp an artist's 
pencil. Through the day the boy sits alone in his 
little room, studying, marking, erasing, and at eve- 
ning takes down in triumph to his father, the picture 
of an African lion. It is the beginning of a notable 
career. From that time the child roams over the 
fields, not like his fellows, chasing butterflies, but 
catching after colors which float on wings of light. 
Or, when his young feet weary in following the evan- 
escent, he casts himself upon the shore and rests, 
dreaming such dreams as are only ocean-born, 
dreams such as Homer knew, when he sang of the 
"many-voiced sea." 

As time passes on, you may follow the man with 
his note-book and staff all over Britain and Europe. 
Thus, for fifty years, does his genius, with pillar of 


cloud and pillar of fire, lead him up and down the 
world, to the land of the artist's vision. "There is 
that scattereth and yet increaseth." So it is written 
on the canvas of William Turner, the chief of land- 
scape painters. 

But what of the character behind the canvas? 
Through life, it seems like that of Sir Walter Scott, 
belittled, degraded by avarice; yet when the seal 
of his will is broken, and all those savings 
are found to be left for the benefit of needy 
brethren in his profession, even such .restricted 
love for his kind, casts a softening light over 
what appeared repulsive. Surely through the 
sustaining power of a purpose so noble he 
may die with a song. Look 'upon him, however, 
as he lies, week after week, alone and melancholy, 
watching the ever-flowing river, the ever-disappear- 
ing sails, the ever-varying clouds. These have been 
the joy of his imagination: but what are river, and 
. sail, and cloud, to the soul that for seventy-five years 
has, in the glories of creation, forgotten the glory of 
the Creator? 

Pass, now, from art to science. By many, the 
scientist is looked upon as nothing but a blasphemous 
Shimei, casting stones at the Lord's Anointed. He 
is often spoken of, as if his modern prominence were 
due only to the notoriety which springs from oppo- 
sition to written revelation. There are good men who 
never think of measuring John Tyndall by anything 
but a prayer gauge. Let them, however, forget for the 
time this theological odium, and study his work in 
his own domain. His patient research is enough to 
put to the blush the bold assumptions and hasty 
generalizations of many who claim high rank as re- 


ligious priests and prophets and sages. Follow him 
through all that tedious and, seemingly, blind exper- 
imenting, to get at the exact truth, no matter what 
the cost, no matter though it may bring down in 
ruins the fair structure of previous speculations, and 
compel him to begin all over again. Such "scatter- 
ing" gives increase. Confining the view to the 
material world, the century has not produced a more 
shining name. In the domain of sight, the world has 
no more wonderful seer. But to the yet higher do- 
main of faith, he has never found the way. I make 
no reference to those grosser attacks upon a belief 
which is infinitely precious to such as love to bend 
the knee and say: "Our Father who art in heaven." 

Simply contrast the peace of the Christian, in the 
communion of the still hour, in the felt presence of 
God, and the unrest which the quick ear may detect 
in the musings of the materialist, on the mountain 
top, face to face with the clouds. "Did yonder 
formless fog contain, potentially, the sadness with 
which I regarded the Matterhorn? Did the thought 
which now ran back to it, simply return to its 
primeval home?" 

Misguided philosopher ! The primeval home thereof 
is not in the nebulae, but in that personal God, in 
whom you live and move and have your being. 

I must not weary you by unduly lengthening this 
chain of illustration. Let theology close the circuit. 
Four years in college, three years in the seminary; 
how can I wait so long? Such is too often the ex- 
clamation of the boy whose heart turns toward the 
pulpit. The present may well listen to the past. A 
youth has made the cross his banner. He has com- 
pleted the common course in the college of his 


native town. But there is no unseemly haste to 
minister at the altar. We read awhile ago, upon the 
standard of another, the prophetic words: "Men, 
society, courts and parliaments." But upon the cross 
of this one there is a strange inscription: "A God, 
a Christ, a bishop, a king." That he may realize an 
ideal so grand, ten other years are devoted to la- 
borious study of theology, and to preparation for 
speaking on sacred themes. And, by and by, the 
king gives him audience, and bishop's robes await 
him, and the love of a Christ and the majesty of a 
God are the inspiration of his tongue. ' Scattering 
and increase ! " It is Bossuet, the greatest pulpit 
orator of France. Another has said that on the fly- 
leaf of his noblest discourses you may read: 
"Preached before the king." Suggestive words! 
They tell a double story. The conception is high. 
Speak royally, so that Louis Fourteenth and his 
brilliant court shall hear. 

But there is a higher conception. " Preached be- 
fore the king!" Yes, the Thorn-crowned, whose su- 
preme test of pulpit excellence is this: "The poor 
have the gospel preached unto them." 

Webster, Sumner, Astor, Vanderbilt, Macaulay, 
Sainte Beuve, Turner, Tyndall, Bossuet, monu- 
mental men, in politics, business, literature, art, 
science and theology, but unfinished structures, all, 
with broad and solid earthly foundation, and differ- 
ing altitude, some displaying little more . than a 
massive base, some half complete, some lacking only 
the capital. 

A broken column is in itself a sermon. We get in- 
struction from what is, and from what is not. The 
mind feels the tangible, and then the imagination 


runs the visible up into the invisible, and though 
we turn away saying: 

" Of all the sad words of tongue or pen, 
The saddest are these, it might have been," 

still the lesson is most impressive, pervasive and 

"And now abideth faith." I Corinthians xiii : 13. 

I happened to be "on change" in Chicago one day 
when the wheat market went to pieces, creating 
great excitement. 

With a commission merchant, I watched the 
course of events. In the general babel, there seemed 
to be nothing to hold men to their contracts, except 
an interjection, a nod, an outstretched finger or 
fingers, and a pencil mark upon a card. Said I to 
my friend: "In this wild confusion of profit and 
loss, are the safe-guards sufficient? Will there not 
be disputes and wranglings over alleged blunders, 
and misunderstandings?" " No," he replied, "such 
things rarely occur. Mutual interest compels us to> 
regard every nod, gesture and entry, as we would a 
bond in court. The moment it is admitted that faith 
may be broken here, this whole system of exchange 
goes down in ruins." 

With that answer there flashed upon me a new 
view of that old subject, faith. * Thence comes the 
sermon this morning. Even where we look for her 
least, Faith appears, and, furthermore, she does not 
come as a transient guest. She establishes her home 
and remains there. In a great association, made up 
mainly of honorable men, but embracing not a few,, 
whose honesty is secured solely by self-interest, 
there has to be one steadying, unifying principle, to 
prevent the dissolution of the organization. 

That principle is abiding faith. That magnificent 



building, where fortunes are constantly made and 
lost, where nothing seetns secure, where the weak 
and the strong meet for the struggle, where too often 
the loss of the one is the gain of the other, where 
too often the fall of the former is the rise of the 
latter, where day by day men are wild with excite- 
ment; rent, torn with a craze for wealth, like those 
possessed by the evil spirit that, magnificent build- 
ing, apparently fit for a shrine of , unrighteous 
Mammon only, proves to be a temple which must be 
kept sacred to Faith, also, or stand empty and deso- 
late. ' '" v ' 

There is no other place in the world which seems 
so pervaded with an atmosphere of insecurity, dis- 
trust, selfish greed, recklessness, and wild chance 
utterly regardless of any rational law of supply and 
demand, as the merchants' exchange in a great city; 
Yet, after all, paradoxical as it may sound, a board 
of trade would be an impossibility, but for an ever- 
abiding faith among its members. Wall street would 
vanish should Faith, in utter disgust and despair 
over what she is compelled to witness, abandon the 

The same principle rules all departments of busi- 
ness. Banks can not be conducted without it. Free 
banking rests on the belief that the issue of bills will 
be kept within a safe ratio to cash and available as- 
sets. Our national banking system rests on a general 
confidence, that the government will make herself 
and her people financially safe. Whenever a man 
offers a deposit, and receives only a ticket or a book 
entry, his act is an act of faith. As he leans upon the 
counter, that counter is an altar of faith between the 
contracting 'parties. Whenever you buy a draft,. 


there is a double testimony. You declare your con- 
fidence in the banker and the banker declares his 
confidence in his New York or London corres- 

Say what we will about cheating and swindling- in 
buying and selling, though the practice is shamefully 
common, there does prevail a substantial faith be- 
tween -the great body of merchants and customers. 
Though the former may adopt the cash system, they 
find themselves compelled to give credit, more or 
less, every day. Though the latter may profess to 
have no confidence in a salesman's statements, there 
is scarcely a purchase which has not been expedited 
by the salesman's representations. Notwithstanding 
all the knavery of the world, notwithstanding the 
numerous impositions to which we are constantly 
subjected, there is an ever-enduring faith of man in 
man. It is in the blood. It will stay. So strong is 
this propensity, that no matter how many times we 
have been deceived, we can not help believing, just 
once more. 

Even stronger is the tendency in man to believe in 
woman, and in woman to believe in man. Secret and 
open iniquities do abound. Scandals fill the public 
prints. Low life and high life reek with uncleanness. 
But each sex will cling to its faith in the other, 
though it may grow skeptical of all else on earth. 
Such is God's law written in the heart of hearts. 

Destroy the faith of man in man and you paralize 
trade, you stop the wheels of exchange, you prostrate 
commerce, you spread financial ruin everywhere. 

Destroy the faith of man and woman in each 
other and you profane the holy of holies. Home 

FAITH. 211 

goes. Society goes. Government goes. Barbarism 
and anarchy take possession of the world. 

Now, our faith in one another and our faith in God 
are bound to stand or fall, together. When we give 
up our confidence in the Creator's image, we are far 
on the road to giving up our confidence in the 
Creator himself. When belief in the Father whom 
we have not seen, vanishes, belief in the brother 
whom we have seen is doomed to destruction. The 
German atheist very consistently recognized this 
fact when he declared that the object of his so-called 
science was: "To destroy all ideals and to show that 
the belief in God is a fraud, that morality, equality, 
freedom, love and the rights of man are lies." 

After Professor Clifford's spasmodic efforts to 
write God with a little g and humanity with a capital 
H, we find him asserting at last that men may all be 
made "cut-throats for money." 

Then, as we love the world, let faith remain, faith 
in man, faith in God. 

Transfer the thought, next, from business, home 
and society, to science. It is a very common claim 
that science does all her walking by sight, none by 
faith. But this is a great mistake. Take those ma- 
terialistic philosophers, who scoff most loudly at the 
doctrine. Said Lionel Beale, as president of the Royal 
Microscopical Society " It would indeed be difficult 
many other department of ;human knowledge to find 
anything to equal the extravagance of the hypotheses 
recently advanced, concerning living matter and its 
properties." So true is it, that the worst victims of 
credulity are those who boast that they have ab- 
jured all faith. When a man makes a great parade 
of skepticism, you may expect from him in the 


next breath the wildest assumptions, unsupported by 
a single fact. Arid the most amusing part of the 
performance will be his perfect ignorance of the 
spectacle which he is exhibiting. Just in proportion 
as genuine faith is driven out, in comes its counter- 
feit, credulity. The most preposterous things that 
we are coolly asked to accept, are the speculations 
of those who. are intolerant of beliefs which have 
been cherished since the dawn of history. 

This shows that the characteristic in question is 
imbedded in the human constitution so deeply that 
you can not get rid of the former without destroying 
the latter. It is one 'of the few things that stay for- 
ever. The wisest science, that which has brought 
most abundant blessing to mankind, has always rev- 
erently and joyfully accepted this principle, and 
made it the source of inspiration to effort. 

The astronomer's telescope pointing heavenward 
to find the undiscovered star which must be there, has 
always been one of faith's most impressive witnesses. 
Were it not for his unfailing trust in the supremacy 
of constant laws, amid a thousand wonderful trans- 
formations, the chemist would abandon hisresearches 
and quit the laboratory. 

In short, not one of the inductive sciences is pos- 
sible, except as faith abideth. 

This principle is also most beneficent in literature. 
Thenovelists and thepoetsbf largest faith have given 
the world the wholesomest food and the sweetest 
benediction. I am speaking now with the freer 
sense, not insisting upon the creeds and dogmas of 
any church or churches. George Eliot has less in- 
fluence than she had a few years ago. Why? Be- 
cause of that strain of unfaith which comes up as an 



undertone from whatever she wrote. It depresses. 
People say: this is all strangely fascinating, but 
there is that about it which leaves us with a sense of 
hopelessness. It is beauty, but it is hectic beauty. 
Give, us something more robust. Lungs that take in 
plenty' of 'oxygen, and blow disease out of the blood, 
and make cheeks plump and rosy, and voice exult- 
ant with faith, and an eye that brightens toward the 

That other woman, who not long ago, was trying 
to roll back the stone to the. door of the sepulchre 
of Christ, and to seal it fast with the stamp of her 
genius, could do. nothing more than win a year 
of notoriety by such profanation of the tomb of 
Him who is risen. . 

The seer who. believeth all. things, sings the song 
that wins the world's heart, and insures immortality. 
Listen to two representative voices from modern 

" The sea of faith 

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore 
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. 
But now I only hear 

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 
Retreating to the 'breath ' 
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear, 
And naked shingles of the world." 

This wail of unbelief is prophetic of Matthew 
Arnold's waning fame. * * * 

" If e'er when faith had fallen asleep, 
1 heard a voice, BELIEVE NO MORE! 
And heard an ever breaking, shore 
That tumbled in the Godless deep, 
A warmth within the breast would melt 
The freezing season's colder part; 


And, like a man in wrath, the heart 
Stood up, and answered, I HAVE FELT." 

This undaunted strain will give Tennyson a hear- 
ing in the millennium. 

Still it is the fashion, now-a-days, in some literary 
circles, to canonize Thomas, the doubting apostle, 
to set him up as the patron saint, in the temple of 
mind. But who would ever have heard of Thomas, 
had it not been for his associates, the heroes of the 
faith, who have brought him along down the ages in 
their company? 

It is a bad blunder to suppose that doubt is the 
trade-mark of genius. I was sorry to hear, not long 
ago, concerning an able young man, that he had 
been captivated by this foolish notion; that he was 
a pronounced agnostic; that he took special pride 
in the fact; that he was training himself to speak of 
faith with the most studied contempt, and to make 
doubt his guiding star for the future. As if faith 

were not 

" The master-light of all our seeing." 

It would do no good for a minister to remonstrate 
with that young man; for the latter would take the 
words as only so much shop talk. But, from his 
own standpoint, he ought to give weight to the re- 
gretful testimony of Niebuhr, the great apostle of 
modern destructive criticism; who, in his maturer 
years, deplored the skeptical spirit which he had 
cultivated until it had become a second nature; and 
who declared that it should be his first object to 
train his son to faith, as the one thing constant. 

Yet, in deploring a pert, flippant, conceited affec- 
tation of skepticism, we should not lose our sympa- 
thy with those whose doubts cost them the deepest 

FAITH. 215 

anguish of spirit. We may agree with such a sufferer 
that "God" is a great word. He who feels and under- 
stands that, will judge more mildly and justly of those 
who confess that they dare not say that they believe 
in God. There are moments in our life when those 
who seek most earnestly after God, think they are 
forsaken of God; when they hardly venture to ask 
themselves: Do I believe a God, or do I not? 
Let them not despair, and let us not judge harshly 
of them. Their despair may be better than many 
so-called creeds. 

Still, while we look upon such men with respect for 
their sincerity, we regard them with more compas- 
sion than admiration. The combination of spiritual 
greatness and spiritual weakness excites .the pro- 
foundest pity. Those who exhaust themselves thus,, 
in their own internal conflicts, have little strength 
left to help their fellow men; few words of cheer 
fora "creation thatgroaneth and tfavaileth in pain." 
Contrast the depression when you hear such a con- 
fession of semi-despair, and the exhilaration when 
you listen to Paul's description of the victories of 
faith, in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews. 

Unbelief is pulpy, flabby, nerveless. Belief is 
muscular. It grips. It grasps. It throbs with mo- 
mentum. It rolls the tides. 

Skepticism lacks esprit de corps. She talks grand- 
iloquently; but she rears no temples in honor of her 

Lick, the California millionaire, wanted to build 
a splendid monument to Tom Paine, but far-seeing 
friends persuaded him, that, if he would immortalize 
himself, he must lay his foundations, not on the 
shifting sands of infidelity, but on the bed-rock of 


faith. And so that money has gone to establish an 
astronomical observatory, and to set up the largest 
telescope in the world, that the heavens may more 
abundantly declare the glory of that very God whom 
silly Tom Paine thought to dethrone. 


Faith is the radical principle in Christianity. Re- 
ligious life begins in it, and is impossible without 
it. Like the root -of the tree, it works in the dark- 
ness and deals with the invisible. It is as prepos- 
terous to claim that you must see how faith rears and 
sustains character, as it would be to claim that you 
must, see how the roots rear and sustain the elm 

Moreover faith works silently. Do not expect to 
hear it. As wisely might you go to the foot of the 
oak and, put your ear to the ground, to ascertain 
what was going on below the surface. All is still as 
ghost-land; and yet there are a thousand literal sap- 
pers and miners busy pushing out in every direction; 
a thousand fibrous rootlets, greedily honey-combing 
the earth for hidden sweets, that with them they may 
refresh the monarch of the forest. 

Now, whenever you look upon a grand Christian 
you may know that his soul is fed, just as that oak 
is fed, from faith's secret laboratory. Faith, by a 
sort of divine instinct, seizes and appropriates what 
she wants most, what will give richest life. Bury 
some bones on one side of a grape-vine, and go there 
two or three years afterward, and you will find the 
roots on that side densely matted, round and sleek; 
those on the other side few, lean and shriveled. 
Faith, blind and dumb, keeps groping around until 

FAITH. 217 

it touches what suits it necessities, and then you can 
scarcely tear it from its feast. 

But suppose that instead of bones, you bury a 
block of granite. The roots of your vine can get 
no nourishment from that; still they turn it to ac- 
count. They feel their way around and encompass 
it with network, and cling to it with such tenacity 
that a giant could not pull up the vine. Give faith 
a stone instead of bread, and it will utilize the stone. 
There are some hard experiences which the Christian 
can not draw much life from, but faith clasps them 
round, down in the darkness, and so they help the 
man to stand the storm; they hold him steady when 
the hurricane sweeps by. 

The same lesson comes directly from human life. 
Here is a boy that never has a day-dream, never 
sees anything which is not painted on the retina. 
Give him Aladdin's lamp and he would sell it to the 
highest bidder. You can not make him believe in 
what he can not see with his eyes, and touch with 
his hands. Talk to him of things that lie out far- 
ther, up higher, and you plunge him into hopeless 
bewilderment. But here is another child who will 
sit upon you knee by the hour, in open-eyed won- 
der, drinking in whatever you tell him. Stretch your 
imagination as you may, nothing is too marvelous 
for him to believe. Fairy-land is his home. Shin- 
ing possibilities ever beckon him on. Nature's 
voices speak to him out of space. Solitude is 
thronged for him with ten thousand friendly forms. 
He feels, though he may not be able to word them, 

" Those obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings: 


Blank misgivings of a creature 
Moving about in worlds not realized." 

This is the one, that, by and by, will write the 
songs of the nation, or be to it prophet, or priest, 
or king. The first child is the type of the skeptic. 
The second child is the type of the believer. He 
only who listens in the spirit of the latter to 
the revelations of God, can become great in the 
kingdom of heaven. 

Some periods of history are characterized by un- 
belief; others by belief. "We shall go down into 
the black valley, where we shall hear no more hal- 
lelujahs." Thus was voiced the despair of the Dark 

Let us climb the Mount of Transfiguration, where 
under the open heaven, we may talk wi^i Moses, 
and Elias, and the Son of God, is the exultant cry, 
already half-articulate upon the lips of the oncom- 
ing twentieth century. That century is your cen- 
tury, young ladies and gentlemen. Anticipate its 
spirit. Unbelief is transient. Belief is permanent. 
Skepticism ends in confusion of face and undying 
shame. But faith abideth, now and forever. 

Yes, now, as well -as forever. Put emphasis there. 
The tense is present. Do not let the doctrine go 
ballooning away among the stars. Tie the thought 
down to this lower sphere; assert the continuity be- 
tween the earthly life and the heavenly. Paul was 
often caught up into the seventh heaven by his fiery 
fancy; but he never lost sight of this world, and of 
the relation of time to eternity. Listen: - 

" By faith, Abraham, when he was called to go 
out into a place which he should afterward receive for 



an inheritance, obeyed. And he went out, not know- 
ing whither he went" 

That was all very human. There is in it a common 
every-day, worldly sound, which comes home to your 
heart and to mine. The old worthy may have had 
some passing glimpse of a New Jerusalem, which 
should descend out of heaven, by and by, across his 
path; but that which mainly filled the horizon of 
anticipation was an earthly Canaan, that lay some- 
where out there in the unknown. " He went, not 
knowing whither he went;" yes, but the faith prin- 
ciple, that which God puts into the soul "to abide," 
kept saying: Forward ! Place ! Inheritance ! Every 
fine fellow who has set his heart upon the noblest 
success, takes the meaning and, on the instant, 
across the centuries/recognizes his kinship with 

Garfield knew not, and yet did know, whither he 
went, when he opened the academy door in Chester 
that morning, in the fall of '49, with only a sixpence 
in his pocket. And when, the next day at church, 
that sixpence went into the contribution plate, Faith 
was there. And as, at odd hours and on Saturdays, 
he looked up jobs of carpentering, Faith fol- 
lowed him in the quest. And, as he boarded him- 
self on thirty-one cents a week, Faith abode with 
him, making that coarse fare sweet. And then, at 
the end of the term, Faith pointed to the sixpence, 
and lo ! it had turned to three silver dollars, as some 
solid "substance of things hoped for." 

The old story makes us no promise of a Canaan, 
as an inheritance. The modern story is not the 
pledge of a White House by and by. But Faith, 


"abideth" still, here, now, for you and for me, as we 
keep going out we know not whither. Therefore, 
trustfully, lovingly and enthusiastically, once more 
we commit our way unto thee, O Lord! 


" Thy servant went out into, the midst of the battle: and be- 
hold a man turned aside, and brought a man unto me, and said: 
keep this man; if by any means he be missing, then shall thy 
life be for his life, or else thou shalt pay a talent of silver. 
And as thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone." 
I Kings xx : 39, 40. 

The context has been read in your hearing. The 
narrative teaches the general truth, that, however 
repugnant to our feelings, the duty which God re- 
quires of us must be performed. 

In harmony with this universal doctrine, the para- 
ble contained in the text inculcates a more specific 
lesson, which shall be our study this morning. The 
view dissolves. Instead of the plains of Aphek, 
where the battle was fought between the host of 
Syria and the children of Israel, appear the peaceful 
scenes amid which we are dwelling. Instead of a 
stranger bringing us a captive for punishment, comes 
our best friend, committing to our care an acquaint- 
ance, whom we are bidden to shield from eternal 
harm. This acquaintance we are commanded to 
to keep in safety, under grievous penalty, in case of 
failure. How are we discharging our sacred trust? 
Keep this man safe. But is he not a free agent? Yes. 
Is he not accountable for himself? Yes. Is not 
his destiny in his own hands? Yes. Can he 
not thwart all my efforts? Yes. Have I over him 
any power of moral compulsion? Not absolutely, 
and yet the command is absolute, KEEP THIS MAN 
SAFE. You are never at liberty to relax your watch- 


fulness over him. When he shows signs of solici- 
tude, strive to deepen that anxiety. Should he be 
stolid and indifferent, with loving patience set before 
him his danger. If he grows reckless and defiant, 
cast yourself between him and self-destruction. 
Study every changing mood, adapt yourself to varied 
situations, convince him that nothing this side of 
death shall diminish your vigilance, and that, if he 
will rush to ruin, it shall be by trampling under feet 
your counsels, your warnings, your tearful entreaties. 
Such devotion is the nearest possible approach to 
compulsion. It often brings salvation. When it 
fails, you are guiltless. How few of us thus keep 
our brother ! * * This man is in danger from him- 
self. He has appetites and passions, which conspire 
for his destruction. He may be ignorant of his peril. 
He needs some one to make him a faithful study, 
and then to reveal him to himself, and to 
show him in loving confidence the maelstrom 
whose outer circle he has entered. The case 
demands human tact, and wisdom from above, 
in rare combination. A minister never faces an au- 
dience like this, without seeing some countenance 
which starts the question: who will save that man 
from himself? The class-mate, or the room-mate, 
or the business associate, or the nearest neighbor is 
the one who most clearly understands the situation, 
and who best commands the avenues of approach. 
Will he have the moral courage to do his duty? 
Will he dare to say to the imperiled soul, "My dear 
sir, you are your own worst enemy in disguise. Your 
carnal desires obscure your mental vision and en- 
feeble your will. You are committing moral suicide. 


"KEEP THIS MAN." 22 3 

Or, the man may be in danger from others. In 
good company, or, even if left to himself, he would 
be true to his better nature, at least he would not fall 
into outrageous sins. But his love for society, in it- 
self commendable, puts him into the power of his as- 
sociates. They hurry him from transgression to 
transgression, without giving him time to rally for 
resistance. How quickly badness recognizes its nat- 
ural victim, and how swifty it rushes to the accom- 
plishment of its purpose! Save this man from the 
foes who wear the garb of friendship. It is often 
harder to warn one against companions, than it is to 
warn him against himself. He will attribute your 
. course to jealousy of their influence, and cling to 
them the closer. You shrink from this charge of un-' 
dermining others. You feel that you can scarcely 
escape the stigma of meanness. It takes a big heart, 
to forget all this, to remember only the peril of your 
brother, and to thrust yourself bravely between him 
and those who are leading him to ruin. 

But again, it is not sufficient, in such a case, to 
break up old associations. To keep this man safe, 
you must fortify him round about with good com- 
panionship. He is weak. It is not his nature, to 
make his own standard, and conform to its require- 
ments. He borrows his moral ideals, and looks to 
others for help in their realization. In impatience 
and contempt, you want to say: "Now that he has 
been delivered from vicious surroundings, let him 
henceforth assert his independence, if he will not do 
that, he is not worth saving. But, did you ever re- 
flect how few would be saved, if that principle were 
made universal? Would any of us dare to say: 
"Take away religious environment, remove the helps 


to righteousness on every side; break up and scatter 
the Christian circle in the center of which I stand,. 
I am abundantly able to work out my own salva- 
tion?" May God deliver us from such fool-hardi- 
ness! Let no one despise these blessed influences 
which inspire us toward the attainment of holiness. 
The odds are fearfully against any man who is left 
standing alone. When God says: "save this man." 
he means, "so encompass him with all forms of lov- 
ing watchfulness, that it shall be well nigh impossi- 
ble for him to break through them, and return to 
his old surroundings." 

BUT, IF HE BE MISSING? "Then shall thy life be 
for his life, or else thou shalt pay a talent of silver." 
Through the letter, read the spirit of the text. We 
are not taught, either here, or elsewhere in the Word of 
God, that if we fail in duty to our brother, our life 
shall be forfeited with his, but we are threatened 
with serious loss. Failure to discharge the lesser 
trusts here, will debar us from the larger trusts of 
the hereafter. The same principle works in earthly 
and in heavenly affairs. We cannot escape the law 
of probation, in this world, or in any other world, 
In every calling, there is going on a process of se- 
lection. Those who are found faithful in lower posi- 
tions are bidden to go up higher. Those who are 
recreant to duty, are made to give way to such as 
have borne the tests of inferior station. Accident, 
or favoritism, may put a man into the wrong place, 
and may keep him there awhile, but time will finally 
rectify the blunder. Nepotism is too expensive, to 
become very prevalent amid the fierce competitions 
of modern life. It supports, here and there, an or- 
namental figure-head, but every business is obliged 


to sift, and sort, and grade, and pay, according to 
proved efficiency and the natural expectations thus 

Tacitus crushes the crown of one of the Roman 
emperors with a single blow, when he exclaims 
"capax imperii, nisi imperasset." A man who would 
always have been thought fit for the throne, if only 
he had never ascended the throne! Such a stunning 
verdict is just, now and then, in the high places of 
responsibility in all vocations, but it is the rarity of the 
instances which makes them so conspicuous. The 
appointing power in great corporations is too care- 
ful of its capital, to risk it, without most searching 
investigation into the capacity and fidelity of those 
who are to have its management. You have often 
heard it said, that the affairs of our railroads are 
chiefly in the hands of the nephews, cousins and 
brothers-in-law of the directors. But, usually, the di- 
rectors are the largest stockholders, and stockhold- 
ers are not very likely to risk their own stock, in the 
hands of their incompetent kinsfolk, for relation- 
ship's sake. Examine the pay-rolls of our best rail- 
ways, and you will not find them filled with the 
names of incompetents, put there and kept there, on 
account of their blood. The places of responsibility 
are occupied by those who have been tried, and 
never found wanting. 

I was talking about this one day with a railroad 
superintendent, who began as a brakeman. He 
scouted the notion that the managers of such corpo- 
rations considered it their main business to support a 
retinue of relatives in the offices of the line. He 
declared that from the first time he sprang to his 
post, on the whistle of "down brakes," he had found 


somebody on the lookout, to call him up higher, as 
fast as he was fit to go. The people who talk loudest 
about nepotism in business are usually those who 
have lost situations through incapacity or negligence. 
Depend upon it that the capital invested in the 
gigantic enterprises of manufactures, trade, trans- 
portation and commerce is inquiring for brains, and 
not for pedigrees. A business syndicate which should 
make the care of poor relations its first law must 
. presently find itself in the hands of a receiver. In 
all this there is no hardness of heart. It is the only 
way to keep the world from universal bankruptcy. 
Thus is made the money to take care of the various 
poor relations that we encounter everywhere. 

Now Christ teaches, both by parable and directly, 
that God recognizes the same principle in spiritual 
affairs. He carries on the enterprises of His king- 
dom through human agents, and conditions promo- 
tion on faithfulness to trust. To him that hath is 
given. From him that hath not is taken that which he 
seemeth to have. He that is faithful over a few 
things is made ruler over many things. The analogy 
between the method of worldly business and the 
method of religious business usually holds good even 
in the present life. God picks his men for the. ac- 
complishment of -his purposes, just as would any 
wise human manager of complicated interests. 
Favoritism and spiritual good luck have no part in 
the administration of these grand affairs. He who 
keeps his brother, finds brethren multiplying, for him 
to keep. He who does not keep his brother, loses 
further opportunity. 

This law of time passes over and becomes the law 
of eternity. Its importance there is measured by the 

"KEEP THIS MAN." 22*] 

comparative length of time and eternity. The lan- 
guage of Revelation concerning the employments of 
the future life is highly figurative. 

We may speculate as to their nature, but all that is 
clearly made known is, that there will be blessed 
activities, and that men will be assigned their re- 
spective parts according to fitness made manifest during 
mortal probation. He who will not keep his brother 
safe on. earth has proved his unworthiness of any of 
the larger trusts of heaven, of whatsoever sort they 
be. There is a wide-spread and mischievous notion 
that if we can only gain entrance to the abodes of 
bliss it is of no special importance in what condition 
we secure admission. Doubtless, the chief question 
is, acceptance or rejection. That is the issue which 
must, in every case, be made first and settled first. 

But, after that point is decided, which is presumed 
in the present discussion, it concerns us deeply to 
inquire what will be the comparative loss from relig- 
ious negligence, and the comparative gain from re- 
ligious faithfulness. In this view, greatly to be de- 
plored is any present remissness in duty, which, even 
in a slight degree, contracts the horizon of oppor- 
tunity for the endless ages. This should not excite 
any suspicion of arbitrariness on the part of God. 
We know that he will confide to our keeping forever 
.all that we have shown that we can be trusted with. 
Nothing less and nothing more would precisely sat- 
isfy the moral sense of mankind. When we read 
that they who turn many to righteousness shall 
.shine as the stars in the brightness of the firmament, 
we say, that is as it should be. But, if it were added, 
he that did not keep his brother on earth, shall also 


shine as brightly, we should say just as decidedly, 
that would not be as it should be. 

Still, objects some one, though I admit that one 
star should differ from another star in glory, it 
seems to me that the consciousness of opportunity 
lost forever must fill one with unavailing regret and 
thus mar his happiness in heaven. The objection is 
natural and plausible. But, upon inspection, the 
difficulty becomes insignificant. As a young man, 
you had an opportunity to invest a little money in 
Minneapolis or Chicago. If you had only done so 
you might be to-day a millionaire. Your resources 
for honor, usefulness and happiness would be vastly 
increased, still that fact does not disturb your seren- 
ity, does not becloud life with unavailing regret. 
From the other life one may look back to the scenes 
of time; he may clearly discern neglected oppor- 
tunities, he may know that through letting them 
slip he has lost many chances for heavenly prefer- 
ment, and still suffer no positive unhappiness from 
the situation. Moreover, he may experience enjoy- 
ment to satisfaction, in the comparatively restricted 
sphere to which he has limited himself by his own 
voluntary course during probation. Nevertheless, 
the larger orbit would have been preferable, and by 
unfaithfulness in the lesser trust, the man has brought 
upon himself serious loss for eternity. 

Do not reply: Revelation assures us that all shall 
be perfectly happy in heaven, therefore it makes no 
practical difference whether or not we improve every 
present possibility. 

To this I answer: Suppose that you now contract 
your moral capacity, and that God, in his goodness, 
does hereafter fill it with enjoyment, would that be 


as desirable, as if you should here enlarge that 
capacity to the utmost, and then God should make 
it brim over with blessedness forever? 

It is our duty to accept with cheerfulness our 
natural endowments, whether they are great or 
small. A humble satellite may be as perfect as the 
central sun. But, when the choice is offered of be- 
ing a star of inferior magnitude or a star of superior 
magnitude in the moral firmament, a most holy am- 
bition responds: give me the larger body and the 
ampler space, world without end! 

How, then, is it that we neglect the condition 
essential to the realization of that holy ambition? 
We have seen that that invariable condition is faith- 
fulness to our trust during earthly probation. Keep 
this man! Our failure is the failure to obey that 
plain injunction. How is it that we let the man es- 
cape from our watch and care? "And as thy servant 
was busy here and there, he was gone." That last 
part of the text reveals the secret. "As I was busy, 
here and there." That business is legitimate: it 
must have attention. Still it becomes so all-absorb- 
ing, it keeps us running here and there so constantly, 
that we forget to look after the man committed to 
our keeping, and, suddenly, we find that he is gone, 
we know not whither. It was for this reason, that 
Christ warned us so earnestly against "THE CARES OF 

Our criminal negligence is not chiefly due to our 
indulgence in forbidden gratifications, but to our in- 
tense devotion to commendable pursuits. If you 
are a clerk, faithfulness to your employer requires 
that thought and energy shall be given^to the ad- 
vancement of his interests. You fall into the habit 


of saying to yourself, these other subordinates be- 
hind the counter must look after themselves. My 
time and attention are all clue to the establishment. 
I have no right to use for the benefit of my associ- 
ates what belongs to the house. And so, while you 
are busy here and there, day after day, the clerk at 
your side, for whom you are morally responsible, is 

If you are a student, your parents rightly expect 
that the prosecution of study will be your main em- 
ployment. How many of you are constantly plead- 
ing this fact, and letting slip some of life's finest op- 
portunities for the salvation of souls! God says to 
every one "there is that man, that class-mate, that 
seat-mate, that room-mate, that associate, KEEP HIM 
SAFE." You may not be guilty of a single sin of 
commission, you may merely be busy, here and there 
about things in themselves highly praiseworthy, and, 
all at once, be startled by the announcement: "HE 
is MISSING! GONE FOREVER!" If you are a teacher,, 
your activities ought to be largely devoted to the 
preparation and hearing of lessons. But there is a 
pupil over whom you have more influence than does 
any other member of the faculty. You may always 
enter the class-room with the subject of the day 
fully mastered, you may crowd every minute of the 
h6ur with rich instruction, you may keep this up 
from September to June, year after year, and still, 
when it is too late, find that, while you have been 
thus busy, here and there, that man whom God 
brought unto you saying, KEEP HIM, is missing, 
GONE FOREVER. If you are a capitalist giving em- 
ployment to few, or to many, paying the highest 
market price for labor, and following only the most 



honorable methods in the conduct of your affairs, so 
far all is well. But there is a workman whom God 
has brought to you saying: KEEP HIM. What is 
wanted is only five minutes of your precious time to- 
morrow morning. But you hurry by. You are so 
"busy, here and there." And, to-morrow night, that 
man will be missing, GONE FOREVER. 

If you are in authority, so that you say to one, 
come, and he cometh, and to another, go, and he 
goeth, and, yet you are careful that no command 
shall be arbitrary and cruel, that is well. But there 
is a subordinate, who is having a desperate fight with 
the world, the flesh and the devil. God has put 
that subordinate there for you to KEEP. A smile 
and an encouraging word, once in a while, will suf- 
fice. But you neglect to give them, through absorp- 
tion in what seem weightier interests. And, while 
you are "busy, here and there," he is missing, GONE 

You are the mistress of a family. You are devoted 
to husband, children and friends. That is highly 
commendable. But there is your maid-servant. It 
is not your duty to make her your drawing-room as- 
sociate. Still, she has, in common with your own 
daughter, social desires which need guidance and in- 
dulgence. Your experience and position qualify 
you to caution her of danger, and to direct her in 
the choice of companions. But you are so busy 
here and there. * * * Missing ! A vial of 
laudanum, and the sleep that knows no waking! 

" Mad from life's history, 
Glad to death's mystery; 
Swift to be hurled 
Anywhere; anywhere 
Out of the world." 


Oh the CARES OF THIS LIFE ! Who shall deliver 
us from their blighting, destroying power ! 

God grant that, when we stand before him for 
judgment, and are called to account for the one 
cpmmitted to us with the injunction: KEEP HIM, 
HER, SAFE, we may not be compelled to answer 
with shame and confusion of face: " Lord, while I 
was busy, here and there, HE, SHE, WAS MISSING ! 


""For every man shall bear his own burden." Galatians vi: 5. 

The second verse of this chapter reads: " Bear 
ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of 
Christ." At the first glance, the two'texts seem to 
embody antagonistic doctrines. What propriety is 
there in telling us in the same breath, that we must 
bear one another's burdens, and that every man 
must bear his own burden? 

There is, however, no opposition between the two 
injunctions. In the art of putting things, Paul was 
. a master. He took delight in startling people by 
apparent contradictions, that he might arrest atten- 
tion and lead them to think for themselves. The 
writings of the apostle are a constant, spiritual irri- 
tant. He did, on one occasion, put Eutychus to 
sleep with a long sermon, but, as a rule, he keeps 
up such a steady cross-fire that all are on the alert, 
wondering where and whom he will hit next. 

Notice his skill in the present instance. He com- 
mences by bidding Christians bear your burdens for 
you, and then, just as you are settling down, and be- 
ginning to regard yourself as badly abused, because 
Christians are so remiss in duty, he turns upon you, 
saying: "None of that, there is no escape; you must 
bear your own burden." 

Without invalidating, in the slightest degree, what 
he calls the law of Jesus, the apostle would bring 
before our minds very distinctly the fact, that after 
believers have done all that lies in their power for 


one another, each will have his own burden to bear,, 
that this, also, is a universal law under the govern- 
ment of God. 

Let us try to look this idea squarely in the face, 
and, if possible, to ascertain its meaning. In the 
first place, it is the Creator's design that every human 
being shall have a burden of toil that work, and 
work only, shall create value. The attempt to evade 
this law produces many of our financial crashes. 
Much of the business of Wall Street is legitimate,, 
and highly beneficial to the world, but the gamblers 
there are all the time trying to get something for 
nothing and, every now and then, the penalty must 
come in the form of wide-spread ruin. 

The same vice manifests itself, though less plainly,, 
through all the ranks of society. Even the child who, 
on the railroad train, buys a package of prize candy, 
is in a small way imitating the grain swindler in Chi- 
cago, and the stock swindler in New York. He 
stakes twenty-five cents, hoping to find a dollar in 
the paper. The idea is to get seventy-five cents 
that do not belong to him, and do belong to some- 
body else; and to get them for nothing. It is at this 
point that speculation ceases to be legitimate busi- 
ness and degenerates into gambling. It is simply 
betting on chances. There is no exchange of values. 
As soon as that principle is lost sight of in men's, 
dealings with one another, you may know that fraud, 
in some form, is lurking thereabouts, however hard 
it may be to tell precisely where it is hidden. It is 
perfectly right for a man to put his money into 
stocks, hoping for a heavy percentage from the op- 
eration of the ordinary laws of trade; but the mo- 
ment that he begins to play the "bull," or the "bear," 


in the market, in order to create fictitious values by 
falsehood, or to depreciate real values through 
fright, his proper place before the moral law,' if not 
before the civil law, is in the penitentiary. It is per- 
fectly right for a man to put his money into grain,, 
expecting to realize largely from the operation of 
the ordinary laws of demand and supply; but, as- 
soon as regular transfers cease, and he merely lays 
a wager as to what the price of wheat will be on a 
certain day, and forms combinations to secure a 
"corner," he sinks morally, so far as that transaction 
is concerned, to the level of the ordinary gambler on 
a Mississippi steamboat. It is perfectly right for a 
man to put his money into land, if he thinks that 
he foresees a rapid development which will double 
or quadruple his investment; but, if by circu- 
lating false reports and exciting groundless expec- 
tations, he gulls the purchaser, that moment he 
crosses the line which separates an honest man from 
a cheat. 

I know that it is very commonly said that you 
cannot distinguish between what is legitimate and 
what is illegitimate in business, but this is not an 
impossibility. If every man would remember that 
it is God's law that he must pay an equivalent for 
whatever he receives an equivalent in honest hand- 
work, or head-work, or money, which is the accum- 
ulation of the two if he would remember this, and 
then never try to get something for nothing, knav- 
ery would disappear from this world with astonish- 
ing rapidity. Now, if you search for the root of all 
these gigantic forms of fraud, you will find it in the 
determination to be free from God's great law of 


labor, of equivalents, of something for something, 
instead of something for nothing. 

To make the matter personal, let us not confine 
attention to brokers' offices, and grain elevators, and 
wild lands in Dakota. Are not you and I guilty of 
the same thing, on a smaller scale, every day? Are 
we not forever trying to shirk work, to get some- 
thing for nothing ? It is at this point that the text 
hits us all. Here is one of the burdens which God 
puts upon us to bear. His design is to test us, 
to show of what stuff we are made, to ascertain 
whether there is in us material enough for him to 
shape into heirs of immortality. Look, then, upon 
the burden of labor as God-appointed, and ask his 
help to carry it cheerfully. In the whole circle of 
my acquaintances, there are not more than twenty 
persons who do not grumble about having so much 
to do. And I blush to say that I can not claim to 
be one of the twenty. Is it not a weariness to the 
spirit, to listen to the pitiful cry on every side: "Oh, 
I am so busy!" What if I am? I ought to be. 
That is precisely what God put me here for. And 
shame upon me, if I have not the grit and the grace 
to meet his requirement, without burdening you 
with my complaints, and trying to make you and 
others believe that I am the hardest-worked and 
poorest-paid man in the community. If I am ren- 
dering my fellow-men and the cause of Christ such 
invaluable services, the people and the Master will 
be very sure to find it out, and to furnish suitable 
compensation, without my fretting myself and worry- 
ing my associates with my Jeremiads. That is my 
burden, and I have no right to thrust it upon others. 
We look upon the little part which we have to 


play in this world's drama, through a glass which 
magnifies a thousand diameters. Consequently, 
that part seems to us a thousand times as big 
as it does to those around us, who view it with the 
naked eye; and so between our estimate and theirs 
the contrast is laughable. 

Now, if we will quit this folly, and simply take 
upon us the burden of toil which God has appointed, 
and carry it as he wants it carried, we can bear it 
cheerfully, nay joyfully, to the end. We can 
fill that labor, not only with prayer, but also with 
song. We can make it all worship, from Monday 
morning until Saturday evening. We must learn to 
spend less time and energy in examining the packs 
of others, to see whether we are not carrying 
a few pounds more than our share. You can 
not tell How heavy my load is; I can not tell how 
heavy your load is. God only knows. But of this 
we may be certain, that. he commands every one of 
us to work with our might. If we have been doing 
too much, he bids us do less. If we have been doing 
too little, he bids us do more. This is wholly a 
question of individual accountability. 

When, therefore, we come to view the subject 
aright, we shall be thankful -that we are under this 
universal law of labor. Without it, we should cease 
to create value for others, and in ourselves. What 
is the inhabitant of the tropics worth to the world, 
or in himself, as he sits in the shade, eating the ba- 
nana and the bread-fruit, as they ripen and drop from 
the branches above his head ? What would become 
of human progress, of Christianity itself, if they 
were confided to his keeping? In character, he is 
nerveless, pulpy, like the fruits that he lives on. 


He does nothing to put stamina into him, and to 
make him a power among men. It is in the 
zones where nature is less bountiful, where men 
are compelled to dig, and delve and sweat, that 
those forces are generated which carry the race 
onward and upward. 

Constituted as we are, with this bias toward indo- 
lence and shiftlessness, that is not a tyrannical man- 
date, but a merciful injunction, which declares that 
" Every one must bear his own burden." We are 
bidden to help one another in all the ways which 
sweet charity dictates; but, when that has been 
done, the voice rings out loud and clear: "Work! 
work! Stand up under your load like a man ! " 
Thus contribute what you can to the general store, 
and vindicate your right to the title of sonship be- 
fore God. 

Again! We are called upon to bear a burden of 
trouble and suffering. We are wont to complain be- 
cause this burden is so unequal. Yet I believe that 
the more carefully we study the matter, the more 
equal the distribution will seem. Take anxiety 
about our ordinary affairs. There is the hod-carrier 
in the street. How shall he, with his dollar and a 
half a day, buy bread for all those hungry mouths, 
and shoes for all those little feet at home? And sup- 
pose he falls sick, how will his wife be able to man- 
age, and where shall she get the money for the doc- 
tor's bills? Why can he not rest easy on these ques- 
tions, like the man he sees writing at the office win- 
dow yonder? But, at that very moment, he at the 
office window is preyed upon by things that harass 
him just as fearfully. How shall he meet his en- 
gagements here? How can he quiet clamor there? 


How can he ever clear himself from the meshes 
which his own indiscretion or the craft of others has 
woven around -him. In the matter of anxiety the 
hod-carrier is no worse off than the capitalist. 

Here, too, is the poor man with children to edu- 
cate. How shall this great end be accomplished? It 
is the struggle of a life-time; but, by and by, that girl 
develops into cultivated, queenly womanhood; and 
that boy fights his way up to heights of influence 
and usefulness. But yonder is the rich man. With 
him the question is not how to get money, but how 
to keep what he has got from ruining his children. 
The daughter cares for nothing but Vanity Fair, and 
the son is given up to indolence and dissipation. 
The two go out into life, fitted for nothing but 
squandering their inheritance. Is not the weight of 
anxiety as heavy on the rich man as on the poor 

Walk along a crowded business street, now 
looking in at the doors, and now watching the faces 
of those who throng the sidewalk. The story varies 
very little. Care and anxiety are about equalized. 
It is hard to tell which carries most, the banker, the 
farmer, or the chimney-sweep. Each has laid upon 
him a proportionate burden. The sweep has his 
worries, but they are cooped in by the walls of the 
flues which he cleans. The farmer seems to lead a 
freer life, but you must remember that, as the boun- 
daries of his liberty extend, so do his perplexities 
increase. The banker appears to be still more inde- 
pendent, but notice how the telegraph lines from New 
York and London, keep his nerves in a constant 
quiver, his mind in a feverish fret. Take everything 
into the account, and these ordinary annoyances and 



vexations are found to be very evenly distributed.. 

When you pass on to the province of sorrow, the 
case is not materially changed. There are excep- 
tions. We often speak of this person and of that 
person, as especially afflicted. But, if you will ex- 
tend your scale of measurement, and study the his- 
tory of families, you will see that, in the long 
run, the proportion of suffering to each, differs little. 
It is the same old history of sickness and death, 
with every generation; just about so many shrouds, just 
about so many coffins! 

Now, there are three ways in which we may meet 
this stubborn, universal fact: 

We may rebel against it. We may fight it as long 
as we live; but we can not change it. The struggle 
will only make us the more miserable. 

Or we may submit to it in sullen stoicism, declar- 
ing that it is useless to battle against fate, and that 
it is the part of wisdom to bear the inevitable, hero- 

Or we may recognize the merciful hand of God's 
providence, trying to lead us out from the confusion 
and distress which human transgression has brought 
upon earth, into those serene realms of resignation, 
faith and hope, in which it is the Christian's privi- 
lege to make his home. 

Let us now ascend to a more elevated and expan- 
sive province of contemplation, and examine the 
burden of personal accountability unto Jehovah. 
That idea I want to set vibrating in every breast 
here this morning. God and I, vohat are his claims 
upon me? 

God lays upon you the burden of responsibility 
for right thinking. By right thinking is not meant 


right thinking in every department of truth, or even 
in every department of theology, but concerning 
your relation to him through Jesus Christ. 

To this end, he would have you cultivate a reverent 
affection for the Bible, as the depository of his re- 
vealed will. In doing this, it is not necessary for you 
to suppose that there is truth nowhere else, or to re- 
ject, as false, whatever falls without the province of 
your own experience, or the teachings of this Book. 
Nor, on the other hand, is there any virtue in eagerly 
subscribing to every thing which seems to have some 
connection with Bible history or doctrine. 

A woman had a son who was a sailor. As was 
natural, she took great delight in her boy's descrip- 
tions of his voyages. After his return from a long 
cruise, he was amusing her, one evening, with ac- 
counts of fishes and fishing. Among other things, 
he told her how, on the Mediterranean, he had seen 
flying fish rise out of the water, like birds, fifteen or 
twenty feet, and sail through the air hundreds of 
feet. His mother, having never before heard of any- 
thing of the sort, concluded that he was drawing upon 
his imagination. So, as soon as he got to a period, 
putting her spectacles back, she began: "Oh, John, 
John, this sea-life is going to prove the ruin of you. 
You used to be such a truthful boy, and here you are 
trying to palm off this nonsense upon your old 

After endeavoring in vain to convince her that he 
had not stretched the facts in the least, he gave it up, 
saying: "Well, mother, that was a pretty tough 
story; but now I'll tell you one that you'll like: a 
few months ago we went fishing over in the Red Sea, 
and, would you believe it, the very first time that we 


cast the net, we drew up a chariot wheel, made of 
gold, and inlaid with diamonds, and we all agreed 
that it must have been one of the wheels that came 
off from Pharaoh's chariot, when he was drowned 
in pursuing the Israelites, about four thousand 
years ago." 

" There, there, John," replied she, with a sigh of 
relief, "that sounds better. That is more like what I 
used to read to you from Exodus, when you were a 
little boy. Tell me such stories as that, and I'll 
believe you; but don't let me hear any more about 
your flying fish." 

Now, some who call themselves scientific people, 
would have us think that John's mother is a fair 
representative of the Christianity of the nineteenth 
century; that the ministry would make everybody 
just so set against the facts which lie outside the 
sacred narrative, and just so credulous about any- 
thing which seems to have even the remotest 
connection with the scripture record. To give it ho 
harsher name, that is a gross misrepresentation. I 
do not know of any religious teacher who wants men 
and women to set themselves against a truth, simply 
because it is not stated somewhere between Genesis 
and Revelation, or to catch up any statement merely 
because its phraseology has a kind of Bible smack. 
It is our business to preach faith, not credulity. 
With this faith, the right thinking which I maintain 
that you are accountable for, has a most intimate 

It is well to entertain correct views about baptism, 
election, perseverance, perfection and other such 
doctrines; but, after all, those views do not form a 
part of that burden of responsibility which I am ad- 


vocating. What you are bound to do is, to come to 
the Bible, and more particularly to the New Testa- 
ment, and most particularly to the Gospels, with 
reverence, candor, and confidence, determined to 
find out the relations in which you stand to God, 
through a crucified Redeemer. 

Open to Matthew, and you read: "Whosoever, 
therefore, shall confess me before men, him will I 
confess also before my Father in heaven." Turn to 
Mark, and this is the testimony: "He that believeth 
and is baptized shall be saved." In the next chapter, 
Luke speaks: "To give knowledge of salvation to 
his people, by the remission of their sins, through 
the tender mercy of our God." And next, from John 
is heard the same glad proclamation: "I am come a 
light into the world, that whosoever believeth on me 
should not abide in darkness." 

And then, from the Acts of those apostles, who 
left the narrow limits of Palestine, and went forth to 
spread the joyful news throughout the world, breaks 
the announcement: " In every nation, he that 
feareth God and worketh righteousness, is accepted 
with him." 

Whereupon, from the lips of the last speaker, Paul 
catches the message, and cries to the Romans: "This 
gospel is the power of God unto salvation, unto 
every one that believeth." And next, the Corinthians 
hear it: "Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable 
gift." And presently far awav Galatia listens to the 
new story: "Jerusalem which is above is free, which 
is the mother of us all." And on the streets of 
Ephesus, which once resounded with the shout, 
"Great is Diana of the Ephesians," there is another 
voice: ''One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God 


and Father of all." And from Philippi, but yesterday 
idolatrous and degraded, this is the strain: "Our 
citizenship is in heaven." Colosse, too, joins in the 
thanksgiving: "There is neither Greek nor Jew, cir- 
cumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, 
bond nor free; but Christ is all in all." Thessalonica, 
likewise, hears the assurance: "God hath not ap- 
pointed us unto wrath, but to obtain salvation through 
our Lord Jesus Christ." From Timothy and Titus 
cometh the same blessed truth: "If we be unfaithful, 
yet He abideth faithful." " He gave himself for us, 
that he might redeem us from all iniquity." Nay, 
more, in the short epistle to Philemon, even the poor 
fugitive slave, Onesimus, is recognized: "Not now 
as a servant, but above a servant, a brother beloved 
in the Lord." 

In the letter to the Hebrews, Christ for all, is still 
the central truth. Through him, God says to sinners 
everywhere: "I will be merciful to their unrighteous- 
ness, and their sins and iniquities will I remember no 
more." And next, James and Peter and John and 
Jude range themselves side by side, and thus they 
speak: "Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, 
and he shall lift you up." "For Christ hath also 
once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he 
might bring us to God." "The blood of Jesus Christ 
his son cleanseth us from all sin." "Keep yourselves 
in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, unto life eternal." 

And then, as we close the Book, Revelation speaks: 
"The Spirit and the Bride say, come. And let him 
that heareth say, come. And let him that is athirst, 
come. And whosoever will, let him take the water 
of life freely." 


And, now, with every book in the New Testament 
crying, free grace, salvation to all, pardon, peace, 
heaven, to every man, woman and child, that will 
seek them through Christ, how dare you say that you 
are an exception, that there is no hope for you, or 
that God has no claims upon you? 

Do you reply, that I have been picking out isolated 
passages, here and there, to sustain my argument? 
You are mistaken. Early one morning, I opened my 
Bible, and began at Matthew, and I kept turning leaf 
after leaf, and when I got through it was noon. The 
same glorious doctrine shone all along the way. The 
trouble was not to find the proofs, for they were 
.spread out everywhere. The perplexity lay in mak- 
ing selections from the hundreds and hundreds of 
verses that cried: "Take me make me your witness 
for Christ." 

I do not deny that you can quote some hard, ugly 
texts. But bring them here, every one. Heap them 
as high as you can; and, then, mountain high above 
them, I'll pile the testimony from the lips of Jesus 
and his apostles, to show that your conclusion is 

With all this evidence within your reach, you are 
responsible for right thinking on this question. From 
the tremendous weight of that burden, there is for 
you no escape. 

Finally, God bids you put right thinking into 
right acting. That burden multiplies the pressure of 
the other, and you can not roll it upon the shoulders 
of any body else. Are you trying to rid yourself of 
it, in that old, old way? Are you pleading the incon- 
sistencies and iniquities of church members as an 
excuse? Are you scornfully pointing to the hellish 


scandals that sometimes settle down around the 

That has nothing whatever to do with the case.. 
. Suppose that church members are as bad as you 
claim; suppose that they are a thousand- fold worse. 
Nay, more; suppose that there is not living a solitary 
professor of religion that is not a hypocrite, or a sol- 
itary minister of the gospel whose character is not 
blacker than Francis Moulton painted the character 
of Henry Ward Beecher, what then? Does that 
change, one iota, your personal relation to God? Is 
not your heavenly Father saying to you, individually: 
"Here, now, I want one genuine Christian in this 
world. I call upon you to be that one?" 


"Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine." I Tim- 
othy iv: 16. 

Notice the conjunction : "Take heed unto thy- 
self, and unto the doctrine." The clauses are co-or- 
dinate. Culture and creed stand before us hand in 
hand, twin brothers. Let no quarrel arise. Let 
neither, in derision, leap over the walls which the 
other is building for the Eternal City. 

Paul had no conception of a faultless manhood 
and a faultless orthodoxy, as two separable and an- 
tagonistic possibilities. With him, religion found 
nothing too common for the touch of consecration, 
nothing too ethereal for faith's firm tread. 

In sympathy with his view, and following the 
textual order, we inquire what is meant by the words: 
" Take heed to thyself." 

First, take heed to the physical nature. The con- 
nection is so intimate between bodily, mental and 
moral health, that it should not be disregarded by 
any one and, least of all, by the preacher. There 
are two extremes, either of which is to be avoided. 
It was the monastic notion that the body should be 
whipped and mortified into subjection to the soul. 
But, taught by sad experience that the body can 
not be kept under by the lash, men have latterly 
come to court its good graces with most flattering 
caresses. You may hear, on every side, loud-voiced 
apostles of muscular Christianity. Let us have 
more sinew, and we shall have less sin, is the burden 
of the new gospel. Trade your commentaries for a 


health-lift, if you would help men on to holiness. 
Dyspepsia and liver complaint are the bane of the- 
ology.. Cure those, if you would secure soundness 
in this. 

What, however, was Paul's doctrine? We find in 
his teachings no sympathy with asceticism. He 
deals considerately with physical weakness. He pre- 
scribes thoughtfully for Timothy's bodily infirmities. 
Yet he, at the same time, guards him against the no- 
tion that he must make the Greek ideal of physical 
development his ideal in the ministry. In the chap- 
ter before us, he says boldly: "Bodily exercise 
profiteth little." What avails it to pile up the muscle 
on your arm, till you are equal to a boxing bout with 
old Pollux himself ? Will that iron hand come 
down any heavier for truth? Should the preacher 
put himself in training till he becomes a brawny 
Charon, stout enough to scull every waiting soul 
across Acheron? 

In the heroic age, Homer could find no more com- 
plimentary terms than "Horse-whipper,"and "Horse- 
tamer." With these he greets his favorites in every 
encounter. But, is there, to-day, no danger that the 
ponies may run away with the pulpit? Shall we 
rush upon the field, crying with Richard III: " A 
horse! A horse!' My kingdom for a horse! " Is the 
ability to drive "tandem" or four-in-hand, to be 
henceforth regarded as one of the chief clerical 
accomplishments? The church used to put the lash 
into a man's hand, and bid him use it on himself. 
Shall we retain the lash, but substitute horse-flesh 
for human flesh? Seriously, can we never learn to 
treat the body, neither as a slave, nor as a master; 


but as a loving servant, that is to be kindly trained to 
do the bidding of the soul. 

Unto the minister so much bodily exercise is profit- 
able as is necessary to keep bile and brain on the 
best of terms with each other. Beyond that, the 
cultivation of muscular tissue is a waste of force that 
is needed elsewhere. The steadiest moral nerve and 
the clearest spiritual vision may be looked for when 
the pulse is full, soft and regular. It is only then 
that a man is in condition to preach. 

Next to health comes mental breadth. When Paul 
wrote to Timothy, mental grasp would have been 
the better term. Christianity and heathenism had 
just met for their first fierce encounter upon the 
arena. They stood face to face, like two gallant 
wrestlers of the earlier day. It was a question of 
grip and throttle. But, now, science has broken up 
the circle of the amphitheater, and rimmed us round 
with an ever-receding horizon. Grasp is still wanted 
in the ministry, but breadth yet more. May we be 
delivered from that narrowness which would bring 
on a miserable duel, when temperate arbitration 
might settle the difficulty. It is wiser to learn from 
the spirit of Geneva in the nineteenth century, than 
from the spirit of Geneva in the sixteenth century. 
There are several cheap kinds of sermon padding; 
but the cheapest of them all is the indiscriminate 
attack upon the naturalist, as necessarily the high- 
priest of naturalism. If you would have a model of 
the forcible-feeble style of discourse, give a man a 
bad theological scare, and a plentiful supply of adjec- 
tives, and then cry Huxley and Darwin in his ear. 
One great hindrance to the spread of the gospel, 
is this apparent anxiety in the church, lest the foun- 


dations of the faith may be undermined in the search 
after the secrets of nature. So long as the keepers 
of the temple manifest such trepidation, the multi- 
tude will suspect that the building is insecure, and 
stay outside. 

Earth's alluvium is rich. Let the investigators 
work there in peace. No matter what their motives, 
we shall be the better off for every discovery. And, 
if some excavator does, now and then, shout to the 
surface, that he has found the bottom fact, that he 
has touched the Ultimate Cause, we can afford to wait 
patiently, knowing that when the laborers have gone 
down through the alluvium, they will but come to 
the Rock of Ages. 

The telescope is ours. It sweeps the azure. We 
can not afford to lay down the instrument which God 
has given us for all this wide survey, this OVERLOOK, 
and fall to quarreling with him, who, microscope in 
hand, is trying to get the UNDERLOOK. 

We foolishly suffer from the apprehension that he 
will not teach just what we want taught; that he will 
not use the old theological crucible. We are a little 
doubtful whether to trust truth to come out truth, 
whoever manipulates. We are all the time whisper- 
ing innuendoes against him who uses the microscope. 
We, lawyer-like, . besmut his character, so that we 
may weaken his influence, should he come into court 
with some perplexing circumstantial evidence, in the 
so-called case of Science versus Revelation. 

Or, if we do not do this, we commit another piece 
of folly. We, whom God has commissioned to search 
into the wonders of the spiritual sky-blue, abandon 
the observatory, and, borrowing the microscope, after 
brief superficial study, essay to enlighten the world, 


in orthodox fashion, on the relation of Genesis to 
cell genesis, and of Revelation to protoplasm. Such 
breadth means nothing but thinness. It weakens the 
minister's influence quite as much as the narrowness 
already described. He who preaches the gospel to 
save souls, can not afford the time for learned re- 
searches in the various departments of science. He 
will become the laughing-stock of the savant, if he 
makes the attempt with the limited resources at his. 
command. Furthermore, he will fritter away those 
energies which should be used to compel men to 
come into the kingdom of God. That breadth of 
mind which he needs, is the ability to see that all 
important truths are not clasped between Bible lids, 
and to welcome fearlessly, thankfully, every discov- 
ery made by the specialist in the many fields of in- 
vestigation, even though it may perplex him for 
awhile to reconcile that discovery with the time-hon- 
ored creed. 

Again, the minister must give heed to his manli- 
ness. Let there be no trifling with self-respect. The 
graduate leaves the seminary with the determination 
to seek a good life rather than a good living; but he 
often finds the living so poor that it impoverishes 
the life. To better the living, he unconsciously be- 
gins to cast about him for what are called in the 
world's markets, "preacher's rates." But he never 
asks for a minister's discount without discounting 
his own ministerial influence. He can not look the 
tradesman quite so steadily in the eye. There is a 
semi-mendicancy in the transaction which tells 
against his Sabbath message. An unregenerate 
butcher can hardly see why he should be called upon 
to furnish clerical roast beef at twelve cent:, 


a pound, while the ordinary worldling pays fifteen 
cents without any grumbling. The preacher who 
would stand erect in his pulpit, must be able to. walk 
through shop and store without stooping. Of course, 
nothing is said against such free-will offerings as 
come spontaneously from parishioner to pastor. 
These open the heart of the former and bring no 
degradation to the latter. They are not to be looked 
upon as an affront. Let such favors be accepted, 
gracefully and gratefully. Still, there is danger that 
they will presently be regarded in the light of church 
dues, or parish perquisites; that, if they fail, the 
minister will look upon himself as not quite fairly 
treated, or that, if they are furnished, they will be 
taken with scant courtesy. 

Did you ever know a brother who, when a country 
parishioner had put a bag of Bell-flowers into the 
cellar of the parsonage, would meet him at the top 
of the stairs, and look at the size of the sack, as if 
making an estimate, whether all the tithes had been 
brought in. The pulpit can better bear the charge of 
being musty and cob-webby with antiquity, than the 
suspicion of becoming spongy. 

A second essential element of manliness is 'natural- 
ness. There is a foolish habit of gauging speech and 
deportment, by the question: "Is it ministerial?" 
To that we fall to trimming word and action. The 
consequence is a style of spiritual affectation, which 
.excites prejudice against the profession. There is 
too much clerical primness, though, with gratitude 
be it acknowledged, there has been a marked im- 
provement, within a quarter of a century. So small 
a matter as the discarding of the regulation white 
hat and stock has helped to humanize the clergy. 


The wearing of such a uniform gave a ghastly look, 
and the man naturally fell to cultivating cadaverous- 
ness. When such a one held out his hand for you 
to shake, you felt like saying, with old king Lear: 
" Let me wipe it first, it smells of mortality." 

Still, you may see a remnant of the ancient idea, 
in the way in which many seek to banish humor 
from the pulpit. No censure can be too severe for 
the preacher who plays the buffoon behind the 
desk. May the profession be forever rid of min- 
isterial Merry Andrews. But, if the Creator has 
given a man the faculty of impaling on a witti- 
cism all forms of spiritual flunkeyism in the church, 
or of dissolving in humor, nauseating truth, so that 
people can and will take it, that faculty is from 
God and is to be used for God, as freely and fear- 
lessly as any other mental endowment. We can- 
not afford to surrender this divine gift to the press, 
the stage and the forum, or to permit its use to 
the clergyman on secular occasions, and deny it on 
the Sabbath. 

Max Muller says wisely: " Humor is a surer sign 
of strong convictions and perfect safety than guarded 
solemnity." Yet, how people do dote upon that 
same guarded solemnity, and the more unnatural it 
is, the more supernatural they take it to be. 

A third essential element of manliness is self- 
forgetfulness. One of Virgil's most wonderful pictures 
is that of two dragons, which, in the temple, coil 
their bodies and hide their hissing heads behind the 
glittering shield of divinity itself. And those ugly 
twin monsters, pride and ambition, are always watch- 
ing their chance to steal in here. 

There are many in the average audience whom 


this trouble in the pulpit may not harm. The young 
and the thoughtless may not be repelled by its pres- 
ence. But not so is it with those who have grown 
old and hardened in sin. You go fishing. You may 
walk along a trout brook in plain sight, and catch a 
kreel full of fish. But they are all young fry. There 
is a wily veteran, just under that big, moss-covered 
rock. You may try him with every fly in your book. 
He rather fancies the bate, but he does not fancy 
you. You come again the next day. You stoop and 
get behind the rock and cast a line. That brown 
hackle is the morsel; but, just as he is going to rise, 
he changes his mind and glides away. Why? He 
caught sight of a hat and a pair of eyes, and they 
took away his appetite for brown hackle. The third 
day, you put your hat into your pocket and advance 
on all-fours. You now go by faith and not by sight. 
You would not have the least shadow on the stream 
so much as give a hint of your existence. 

A butterfly, with wings of bronze, drops upon the 
surface of the water. Strike! Let him play! That's 
a three-pounder! So is it in fishing for MEN. 

Sympathy with common experiences is no less im- 
portant. There is a great danger that we shall con- 
found sentimentalizing with sympathizing; that we 
shall pattern after Rev. Laurence Sterne; that we 
shall look pathetically through the window at the 
captive; but be very careful never to get upon the 
.same side of the bars with the captive; that we shall 
make the whole journey from Jericho to Jerusalem a 
merely sentimental journey. 

Did you never go forth from some pen-picturing 
of distress, and find yourself in the condition of Pip, 
in Great Expectations? "with a whole gallon of con- 


descension, and only a pint of ale," to cheer the 
distressed. In training the imagination, to catch a 
Tennyson's "voice of shipwreck, on a shoreless sea," 
there may be a kind of opium ecstacy, which unmans 
the soul, for shoving its life-boat out into a sea with 
shore breaker-white, and for bending to the oar to 
rescue the perishing. We may so accustom ourselves 
to mounting to the attics of fancy, as to have no 
heart, to drag our weary feet up the rickety stairways 
to the top story of the tenement house. 

The parish is the natural corrector of the study. 
It gives us an exquisite thrill, to wring some im- 
aginary hand of distress, a hand that is delicate and 
white; but he that would successfully minister before 
God unto men, must have such interest in the com- 
mon-place work, temptations, and trials of life, that 
he is always eager to clasp the hard and sweaty 
palm of the clown, that he may lead the clown up to 
a crown. 

Focalizing, now, 'these few separate rays which we 
have been trying to throw upon this part of the sub- 
ject, we see that, with physical health and mental 
breadth, and a manliness that is self-respectful, 
natural, self-forgetful, and heartily sympathetic, the 
minister is, on the manward side, in readiness for ef- 
fective work. So essential are these qualifications, 
that there would seem to be no danger of their being 
unduly magnified. But, when a generous, cultivated, 
brilliant humanitarianism comes forward at this point 
.and declares that no more is necessary that char- 
acter is everything, that creed is nothing; that if a 
man be a living epistle known and read of all, it 
matters little what theories he advances from the 
pulpit, it is high time to re-read the second part of 


Paul's pastoral charge to Timothy: "Take heed unto 
the doctrine." Equip thyself upon the Godward 

Present limits permit the notice of only two par- 
ticulars. The first is a fearless radicalism 

The minister is called to set himself against what, 
Lowell characterizes as, " a feeble-minded piety, 
which dreads the cutting away of an orthodox tumor 
of misbelief, as if the life blood of faith would follow,, 
and would keep even a stumbling-block in the way 
of salvation, if only enough generations had tripped 
over it to make it venerable." 

Good men have unwittingly introduced the poison 
into our theological systems. Good men have unin- 
tentionally dropped mischievous things in the path 
of life. But that is no reason why we should use 
fomentations for the tumors, and cover up the 
stumbling-blocks with our mantels of charity. The 
knife for the one, and the fire for the other! Then 
shall we be ready for the treatment of heterodoxy. 

There are two sides to this question. Radicalism 
has a call in both directions. We desire not, to hush 
the talk about the old tumors of orthodoxy. Ex- 
pose them all, and give them all heroic treatment. 
But use the probe, impartially. Try it upon the 
" other -doxy," and you will find that, of all tumors fl 
the oldest and the 'deadliest is the one implanted in 
human speculation, when heterodoxy first became 
articulate, in the words: "Thou shalt not surely die." 

But sin does KILL. Psychology says so. History 
says so. Paul says so. Christ says so. We shrink 
aghast from the ruin which the soul may bring upon 
itself, and there is an impulse to take refuge in the 
tempter's utterance: "Thou shalt not surely die." 



There may be remedial virtue in sin, if not here, 
then, perhaps, elsewhere. Is not heterodoxy trying- 
to inoculate orthodoxy, with the virus of that same 
old tumor? He only is kind to his brother and true 
to his Master, who tenderly, but plainly, recognizes 
the badness of the case. "Take heed to the doc- 

We are here at the root of things, the tap-root. 
Dare to be radical. But do not rest satisfied in deal- 
ing with those fibrous roots that run laterally, near 
the surface. Such work is easier and pleasanter. It 
gives less offense to others. It disturbs your own 
pity less. But it does not meet God's requirements. 
You must find sin's farthest reach. That goes down, 
down, to DEATH, a death the end of which we can 
not see, strain our tearful eyes as we will. 

In this development theory of evil, there are no 
"breaks." It is from bad to worse all the way, till 
vision touches the border land of darkness, about 
which we know nothing, unless we accept Revelation. 

In the name of reason, how can we discard pres- 
ent experiences and analogies, and picking up, here,, 
a possibility on supposed conditions, and, there, a 
perhaps under existing conditions, try to construct 
a situation which shall abolish the death penalty 
under the government of God. Such speculation is 
cruel. Under the guise of mercy, it palliates guilt, 
belittles righteousness, loosens the bonds of moral 
obligation, and leads the soul to trifle with its own 
eternal destiny. 

Sin is the radical problem. And that is only a 
pseudo-radicalism, which would dismiss it with sun- 
dry surface guesses, dignifying them by the name of 
an answer. Who is the genuine radical? Which 


shall we trust, the feminine, or the masculine lobe of 
the brain? Which is the more grandly compassion- 
ate, the weak pity which hides, or the white-lipped 
resolution which lays bare the terrible ruin wrought 
by perverted free will? 

Lastly: Preach Christ. Sin means death. Christ 
means life. The reach is infinite, either way. Moral 
evil is upon us. We cannot solve the mystery of its 
permission. Our subtlest conjectures are only par- 
tially satisfactory. That impossible task is not re- 
quired. Our commission is to herald salvation from 
ruin. So much we know, that, as permitted evil was 
in God's thought from the beginning, likewise from 
the beginning in God's thought was the Logos who 
took bodily form at Bethlehem. The insinuation of 
malevolence is met by the gift of divinity incarnate. 

The heart throbs and swells, as we again catch 
sight of the great tidal wave of Christian thought 
that flows and ebbs through nineteen centuries. It 
is embodied in that word, which one party pronoun- 
ces ATONEMENT, and the other party pronounces 
AT-ONE-MENT. And each is partly right. When you 
look heavenward, and God's righteous law towers 
upward in all its majesty, the cross does mean ATONE- 
MENT.- But, when you look earthward, and see the 
Father's arms thrown around his prodigal boy come 
home, those blood-red letters change to characters 
of golden light, and the word grows syllabic, and 
the inscription on the cross reads AT-ONE-MENT. 

All these theories that give us some hint of the 
fathomless meaning of the life and death of Christ 
call for gratitude. But all creeds combined, from 
ECCE HOMO to ECCE DEUS fall infinitely short of 
declaring the humanity and the divinity of Jesus. 


Boundless theme! Our inspiration and our despair! 

Yet, when the scoffer points to Calvary, and asks, 
what more can you make of it than the central gib- 
bet of the universe ? the heart flies to the rescue 
with the answer: " SOME-HOW IT SAVES." 

And the risen Redeemer speaks: " Go, disciple all 
nations. Lo I am with you alway, unto the end of 
the world." 

" With us alway," Our Master, what need we more! Let 
our walk be closer with thee in our toils, closer with thee in 
our trials, closer with thee in our joys, closer with thee in our 
sorrows, closer with thee as the burdens of years increase, 
closer with thee as we near the bounds of life, closer with thee 
as we go down into the valley of the shadow, closer with thee 
as we climb the Heights of the Everlasting and that will be 
Heaven Amen! 


" Forgetting those things that are behind, and reaching 
forth unto those things that are before." Philippians iii: 13. 

Memory and Imagination Prime Factors in the 
Problem of Life! This is the theme which invites 
our study to-day. Says an objector, however, the 
text does not commend remembering, but forgetting. 
You can not, therefore, legitimately use the verse in 
the manner proposed. So it might seem at the first 
glance, but a moment's thought brings relief. It is 
obvious, that the Apostle can not advocate the 
blotting out of the past, leaving there nothing but utter 
blankness. That would be to destroy all the materials 
for that very progress which he everywhere enjoins. 
What he desires is, that we should learn to discrimi- 
nate between those things which will hinder and those 
things which will promote our advancement, and then 
forget the former but remember the latter. This is a 
constant puzzle. The feeling is like that which we 
have in taking up a daily paper. We are perplexed 
to know what to skip, and what to read. So, here, 
the first difficulty is to decide what to banish from 
the mind, and what to retain in the mind. Now, we 
ought to carry from the past into the future, whatever 
will be helpful there, and drop everything else. The 
division may be made by picking out the bad and 
leaving the good, or by picking out the good and 
leaving the bad. Either method involves the other. 
And so it is proper to use the text to cover the theme 


Consider, therefore: 

I. Things to forget. 

II. The use to be made of things remembered. 
We should train ourselves to forget animosities. 

To cherish these, is the distinguishing characteristic 
of barbarism. To nurse the desire for revenge was 
considered one of the noblest virtues among the 
ancients. Gratitude for kindness was not more highly 
esteemed. Modern savagery subscribes to the same 
creed. Such is the inspiration of the scalp dance, 
among the aborigines. Such is the sentiment of the 
pioneer, who steadies his rifle, with the doctrine that 
the only good Indian is a dead Indian. Whoever 
harbors resentiment and bides his time for retaliation, 
is no better than a Vandal, or a Comanche, or a bor- 
der ruffian. 

Such a one does not belong within the pale of 
civilization, much less within that of Christianity. 
Still, this detestable trait clings to us all most obsti- 
nately, and under most deceptive disguises. Even 
the devout believer, who fancies himself under the 
dominion of the Beatitudes, is suddenly shocked to 
discover the war paint on his face and the tomahawk 
in his hand; or, if the picture is not so startling, he 
will detect, under what seems to be zeal for the Lord 
of Hosts, a lurking purpose, to gratify his own per- 
sonal hostility. 

You may read this, between the lines, in the bi- 
ographies of almost all the world's great reformers. 
And rigid self-examination will reveal the same fact, 
in your own humbler experience. The ugly spirit 
will insidiously worm its way into religious talk, or 
prayer, or sermon. 

Now, these animosities must be banished from 


our recollection. We are not to sort them ovei> 
with a view to retaining some, and expelling some. 
All must go. . The presence of any will be a curse to 
other people and to ourselves. This will require the 
most patient and persistent discipline of the will. 
Our mental philosophies abound in directions for 
training the power of memory. But there is also a 
training to forget, which is sadly neglected, both in 
theory and in practice. This is more under the con- 
trol of volition, than we commonly suppose. So 
strong is the passion for brooding over our vindictive 
feelings, that we say that it is ungovernable; that, 
possibly, we may forgive, but that we cannever forget. 
Are we, however, so helpless under the tyranny of 
passion? If, instead of taking it for granted that 
our attention must set steadily in that direction, we 
would resolutely seek to divert it to other activ- 
ities, we should be surprised at the mastery which 
would come, in the lapse of years. Of course, the 
older we are before we open the struggle, the more 
protracted it will be. This science of forgetting is 
begun too late in life. The child ought to be taught 
at the outset, that it is just as necessary for him to 
learn to forget, as it is to learn to remember; that 
there are certain things which he must discipline 
himself to withdraw his attention from, just as there 
are certain other things which he must discipline 
himself to fix his attention upon. Much may be done 
through the direct action of volition. Still more may 
be accomplished, indirectly, by occupying the mind 
with loftier purposes, by keeping it so busy with 
nobler employments, that the latter will thrust out, 
and keep out, the resentments which clamor for hos- 
pitality. Test thus, I pray you, the expulsive power 


of benevolent thought and beneficent action. Never 
till you learn to forget, as well as to forgive, can you 
know the fulness, the beauty and the sweetness of 
Christian liberty. 

Forget failures. Respecting animosities, the rule 
has no exceptions; but respecting failures, the injunc- 
tion is less sweeping. We should consign to oblivion 
only the failures which would be a hindrance, if re- 
membered. There is a brooding over defeats, which 
unnerves resolution, and discourages fine achieve- 
ment. It lowers the tone of mental and spiritual 
life, and sinks the doxology into the dirge. Who 
has not looked upon this raven, and listened to its 
doleful nevermore? Are we, then, unable to shake off 
the dismal spell? Multitudes yield themselves un- 
resisting captives, and, thenceforth, clank the fetters 
of hopes always dying, but never dead. You meet 
such people daily, you hear their inarticulate cries, 
your heart goes out to them in sympathy, and yet 
you are powerless to rescue. The only remedy lies 
in themselves, in their consigning to oblivion this 
wretched past, which they carry about with them 
like a body of death. A man may decide very 
quickly, whether a failure should be forgotten. So 
soon as he finds that to recur to a defeat, weakens 
his confidence in his power to succeed in any worthy 
department of effort, he may know that it is his duty 
to withdraw his mind from that occurrence, and seek 
to break up the laws of association, which will be 
most likely to suggest that portion of his experience. 
At first, the very effort not to remember, will seem 
to fix the matter more firmly in mind, just as in 
insomnia, the resolution to expel an agitating 
thought, will sometimes send it whirling through the 


brain chambers with increased velocity. But per- 
sistent resolution will finally banish the unwelcome 
visitor, or thrust it into the background through the 
introduction of more pleasing guests. No one has 
gained a proper self-mastery, until he is able to shut 
and lock the door upon any memory which will dis- 
courage him in striving for nobler attainments. 

Be on your guard against a morbid passion for 
going back to the different battle grounds, on which 
you have been overthrown, and living your miseries 
over again. There is only one class of people who 
succeed in making that practice profitable. It is 
composed of such poets as turn their woes into verse, 
at so much a canto. They may convert into cash the 
opening of old wounds, just as professional beggars 
subject themselves to all sorts of inflictions, that 
they may the more surely excite the pity of the 

But the best that most of us can get out of an old 
hurt, is to get well of it as soon as possible, and to 
get away from it as far as possible. Usually, the 
most dangerous thing that we can carry into a 
present encounter, is the picture of a previous dis- 
aster. It secretly takes the stamina out of us, so that 
we are panic-struck at the first shock of arms. What 
is true of physical and mental courage is equally so 
of moral courage. For this reason, in the Christian 
life, it is wise to forget the sins of the past which fill 
us with apprehension of our future triumph. Yet 
many seem to regard it as a sort of virtue, to impede 
their spiritual progress, by loading themselves with 
the recollection of transgressions, which God himself 
has promised to remember no more forever. 

Forget successes; not all, but such as fill the mind 


with a sense of satisfaction, and tempt you to relax 
your efforts, and to erase Excelsior from your ban- 
ner. It is often said that college valedictorians sel- 
dom run an illustrious career. The statement is 
false; still there are too many cases in which a young 
man bends all his energies in a single direction, until 
the day of graduation; and, thenceforth, gives him- 
self up to admiration for his one achievement. But, 
while he is engrossed with that bright memory, his 
competitors, forgetting those things which are be- 
hind, and reaching forth unto those things which are 
before, lay hold upon the grander prizes of life. 
Laurels won begin to wither the moment that they en- 
circle the brow. The world has little use for him who 
has nothing to offer but the faded flowers and time- 
stained cards, which testify that he was the hero of 
a happy day in the long ago. 

In estimating the value of any man, you need to 
know whether there is material in him to carry him on 
to a certain point' where he will sit down to enjoy what 
he has gained, or whether there is a reserve of am- 
bition and energy, which will urge him forward so 
long as life shall last. In carrying on any enterprise, 
this idea is highly important in your calculations. 
There are so many persons who do fine service un- 
der conditions, who lose momentum the instant the 
conditions are removed. How often a business firm 
has been disappointed on admitting to partnership 
a subordinate who has been working for years on 
probation. His fidelity and zeal have made them- 
selves felt in all directions. But now that he 
has come into the new relation, the throb in 
the movement of affairs disappears. The draught 
dies away, as if some check damper had been 


closed. That is a very anxious moment when 
you remove any special pressure which has been 
brought to bear for years. You hold your breath 
to see whether the ordeal has used up all the stuff 
that there was in him, and whether he, who has 
hitherto lived in anticipation, will now begin to live 
in memory; or whether he is still full of enterprise, 
so that the present attainment will be an incentive to 
more eager endeavor. That is a rare manager of any 
interest, who has an insight which guages men cor- 
rectly, knows how much there is in them, can calculate 
whether the supply will last till a certain date, or can 
discern some secret fountain which will flow peren- 
nially. Alas for him that has nothing to depend 
upon but spent forces, memories, shadows of a past, 
however illustrious! 

Did you not admire the spirit of Charles Francis 
Adams, who, on being introduced as the grand- 
son of his grandfather and the son of his 
father, made a graceful bow to his ancestors, but. 
declined to be a mere voice from the tombs. I have 
a friend whom I delight to introduce as the nephew 
of his distinguished uncle. The expression of his 
countenance is a study. It seems to say: Forget- 
ting those things that are behind, I reach forth to 
those things which are before. 

In this outline of what we should train ourselves to 
forget, I have incidentally touched upon what we 
should remember. There are failures and sins to 
which it becomes us to recur from time to time. They 
are such as give us salutary warning, point out dan- 
ger in a way which does not unman us, but shows us, 
with the peril, the method of escape. Was it not 
the defeat at Bunker Hill which revealed to our 


forefathers the possibility of successful resistance, 
and gave them courage to publish to the world the 
Declaration of Independence? So the Union disas- 
ter at Bull Run, settled the fall of the Confederacy 
at Richmond. By losing many a hard-fought battle, 
both Peter the Great and Frederick the Great, finally, 
learned the secret of all their conquests. In the 
long struggle for emancipation from the dominion 
of sin, it is wise for us to recall, and carefully study 
those transgressions which indicate our special dan- 
gers, foster that humility which is one of the sources 
of strength, and lead us to cry for deliverance to 
Him who is mighty to save. So subtle are the wiles 
of the Adversary of Souls that we can not anticipate 
them and guard ourselves against them, unless we 
take experience as our guide and interpreter. The 
enemy makes us an individual study, and lays plots 
against our peculiar weaknesses, so that the detec- 
tion of these plots is the shortest road to that self- 
knowledge so essential to self-protection. 

As Ave look backward, and see the pitfalls into 
which we have blindly plunged, we are able to look 
forward, discover the treacherous places and avoid 
similar moral disasters. Such memories of evil are 
blessed. Cling to the recollection of every experi- 
ence of evil which waves both the danger signal and 
the flag of deliverance. 

Remember victories; such victories as inspire the 
soul to still more splendid achievements. I have 
dwelt upon the danger of concentrating the energies 
upon some object, and relaxing effort, the moment 
that object is attained. Suppose that a minister 
should decide that he had accumulated a supply of 
sermons, so that he need not write any more. The 


moment that he began to fall back upon that old 
stock, and to cease production, he would be- 
gin to die, as a mental and spiritual force. 
What would be your feeling if you should call a 
pastor, and should afterward see him sort the con- 
tents of "the barrel," and hear him say to himself, 
that he should not have to do anything but pastoral 
work for the next five years? The prospect of 
warmed-over sermons would be about as inviting as 
the prospect of warmed-over victuals for the same 
period. Although I doubt the wisdom and am a 
trifle skeptical about the sincerity of the minister 
who, on assuming a new charge, assured his people 
that in looking over hundreds of manuscripts, he 
had concluded that there were not half a dozen dis- 
courses good enough to preach to them; still itspoke 
well for the freshness of the man's ministrations, and 
his prospective growth in breadth and depth of 
thought. The most commendable course would be 
to make such use of the best of the old, as would 
insure time and strength for the most productive 
effort in the new field of labor. If one has been en- 
gaged in long and faithful service, he will have gar- 
nered some grain which should not be thrown away 
with the abundant chaff. That kind of satisfaction 
with past achievements which encourages indolence, 
is one thing. That which invigorates and inspires 
for more enthusiastic endeavor, is another. The 
memory of the best that we have done, should be a 
revelation of still better things to do. 

You will come short of your noblest possibilities, 
unless you learn to maintain a stout heart and a 
steady resolution, by the frequent recall of victories 
in other days. 


Do you say that this will be to surrender to mem- 
ory the province of faith ? Do you say, that God com- 
mands us not to be anxious about the future, that 
he would have us trust him to carry us through 
whatever may be in store, and that to try to keep 
up our courage by bearing in mind the deliverances 
of the past, is to substitute a human device for the 
plan of God ? * * * Your position is untenable. 
You are not asked, to substitute memory for faith, 
but to press memory into the service of faith. 
Where, in the Scriptures, are we forbidden to em- 
ploy means for the confirmation of faith ? Faith is 
grounded in reason, and reason depends upon mem- 
ory for suggestion. You are commanded, to trust 
God for the future. The command would be in 
itself sufficient ground for obedience. But, when 
events in your life reveal the hand of God, can you 
exhibit any more reverent and acceptable faith, than 
by saying: "Asthou, my Father, didst give me 
the victory in those well remembered struggles of 
the past, so thou wilt lead me to victory, in the gath- 
ering conflicts of the coming years ? 

There is in this no element of offensive self-suffi- 
ciency. It is a grateful recognition cf the doctrine 
of divine and human co-operation. Amid the fierce 
competitions of the iQth century, which render men 
and women more apprehensive than ever about 
their personal success or failure, it becomes us to 
re-assure our anxious hearts from experience, in 
conjunction with Revelation. The unmistakable 
presence of God with us, in certain emergencies of 
the past, italicizes and emphasizes the promises of 
His presence in the crises of the future. What 


greater folly than to throw away these treasures o.f 
precious recollection ! 

I have brought out so fully two of the offices 
of memory, that they need no further elucida- 
tion. Hearken to these blended voices of warning 
and of encouragement. But the treatment of the 
subject would not be complete, without the crown- 
ing recognition of the union of memory and imagi- 
nation, in the transfiguration of life. When the mind 
has been trained to examine its acquisitions, one by 
one; to discriminate between the bad and the good; 
to throw away the former and to preserve the latter; 
it is prepared to furnish the imagination with the 
richest materials for those ideal creations, the reali- 
zation of which exalts character and glorifies God. 
The power of the imagination is wonderful, but it is 
not absolute. Though her magic wand sweeps the 
universe, memory is the original source of those mar- 
velous manifestations. Memory might have per- 
formed her essential functions, without the existence 
of imagination, but imagination could never have 
begun her ministrations of beauty and beneficence, 
without first receiving, herself, certain endowments 
from memory. Imagination creates. She creates, 
however, primarily, not out of nothing but out of 
something, a something furnished by memory. 

Now, it is obvious that the finer the treasures 
which memory offers, the richer will be the ideal of 
life and character fashioned by the imagination. 
Furthermore, though we always fail in the full real- 
ization of the ideal, we are, or are in the process of 
becoming, essentially, what the ideal requires. 
When, then, the imagination receives such winnowed 
recollections as have been brought to view in this 


discourse, and expands them, and exalts them, and 
floods them with splendor, till, beyond us and above 
us, the distance is filled with forms of light, that 
smile and beckon and entrance with song, the past 
loses bulk and substance and outline and color, and 
vanishes away. Meanwhile, the future is, little by 
little, cleared of blank misgivings. There is a reve- 
lation of shining possibilities, possibilities, which at 
first seem too far away, too ethereal. 

But, presently, you feel that this is not a mocking 
vision, that it is the ideal of what even you, may be, 
should be, must be. The creative imagination has 
discharged her noblest office. Taking your best 
attainments of other days, respecting your individu- 
ality, guided by your personal peculiarities, she has 
fashioned an ideal adapted to ' your capabilities, so 
that you may recognize a certain kinship to the real. 
At the same time, she has so magnified and transfig- 
ured every excellence, that, catching the inspiration 
of the promise and the prophecy, you are ready to 
exclaim with the enthusiasm of the Apostle : " For- 
getting those things that are behind, I reach forth 
unto those things that are before." 


" See, then, that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as- 
wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Ephe- 
sians v: 15, 16. 

The literal meaning of circumspection is, looking 
around. According to the text, there may be a fool- 
ish circumspection and a wise circumspection. Solo- 
mon says that the eyes of a fool are in the ends of the 
earth. Such looking around encircles the round world. 
It belts the planet in its favorite quest. That quest is 
for all manner of illegitimate gratifications. Against 
such a course, the apostle first puts mankind on their 
guard. The fool's circumspection often seeks sensual 
pleasures, as the chief end of life. The pursuit may for 
a time be successful, but satiety finally sets in, and 
the bodily organs themselves lose responsive power. 
The delights of the senses are not to be contemned. 
When moderated, kept incidental, and regulated by 
the rights of the individual and of society, they pro- 
mote health and happiness, even down to old age. 
But the fool, in his all-absorbing eagerness to grat- 
ify appetite and passion, defeats himself. There can 
be no more pitiful and loathsome sight, than that of 
a worn-out debauchee, consumed by cravings, which 
he is impotent to satisfy. 

Or the passion may be for mere money-making;: 
years may only add to its intensity. The chuckle of 
the miser is heartiest at four score. But he is at last 
smitten with the paralysis of the words: "What 
shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and 


lose himself?" "Thou fool, this night thy soul 
'shall be required of thee. " 

Is the same word too severe to apply to such as 
scheme through life for political preferment? What 
has been the testimony of those who, like Webster 
and Clay, have trod the high places of power, con- 
cerning the hollowness of their careers? In view of 
these facts, what shall we say of the spectacle of two 
old men, whose average age is more than the three 
score and ten allotted to mortals, anxiously watch- 
ing the result of the balloting at Springfield, week 
after week? We respect both too highly, for other 
reasons, to call them fools, but is it not a somewhat 
foolish thing, to try so feverishly to snatch one more 
honor, just beneath the scythe which Old Time is 
swinging around to cut them down? If this be true of 
those who strive for so glittering a prize as a sena- 
torship, how ridiculous is the circumspection which 
is on the lookout, year by year, for ten thousand 
petty offices throughout the land. 

Other kinds of foolish circumspection might be 
enumerated, but these are typical and will suffice. 

We study next the circumspection which the apos- 
tle commends as wise. It is that which'" redeems 
the time," that which wrests time from ignoble uses 
and devotes it to the noblest purposes. The search 
will reveal things to be avoided, ,,and things, to be 
pursued. There are many practices, harmless in 
themselves, which a wise man cannot afford. 

Various amusements might be specified. Billiards, 
chess and whist may be grouped together, as games 
which are sometimes wholesome in their influence. 
The first develops physical dexterity and mental 
concentration. So far, it may be considered a bene- 


ficial recreation. Chess and whist, also, combine at- 
tention and study, with sufficient of uncertainty to 
give them zest. So far as the three are played with- 
out stakes, and with a moderation which robs neith- 
er regular work, nor more invigorating out-door 
diversions, they may be justified. But the moment 
that any one of them becomes an infatuation to the 
player, it also becomes one of the things which he 
can no longer afford. Such infatuation, however, 
is so exceptional, that these games do not deserve 
the sweeping condemnation which they often receive. 
Good morals will be best subserved by discrimina- 
ting. Billiards is the most dangerous of the group, 
because of its common associations. Billiard tables 
in a private house, or in a college gymnasium, with 
no liquors near, seldom do any damage, after the 
novelty has ceased. They work their own cure. It 
goes without saying, that whist parties, with wines 
and late hours, are an abomination. The inveterate 
chess player is so rare an exception, that he hardly 
deserves to be held up as a warning. 

The more common games of cards fall into anoth- 
er group. They call the intellect into action less, 
and arouse the sensibilities more. For this reason 
they are more likely to run to excess. The element 
of chance in them is always an exciting element. 
Experience clearly proves, that it is very difficult to 
secure moderation. A soldier in a frontier fort, 


without books, and without anything better to busy 
mind and body with, would be excusable for whil- 
ing away the heavy hours at euchre. If Robinson 
Crusoe and his man Friday should every day try to 
relieve thus the desolation of their island life, the 
recording angel would not write it down against 


them. B^tt card playing is a practice which a college 
student cannot afford. The principal reason is the 
fearful waste of time which should be devoted to 
other purposes, to games that invigorate and build 
up the body, and to studies that strengthen mind 
and make manhood. This is not Puritanism, or 
cant, or superstition, or old-fogyism. It is a direct 
appeal to your personal observation. It is the stand- 
ing case of paste-boards versus books. The two 
cannot be reconciled. I call uponCrampton Hall 
yonder to be my witness. There is in our institu- 
tions of learning no other practice, which so gener- 
ally lowers the recitation grade, as this widespread 
practice of card playing. Gentlemen, redeem from 
this your time, as you prize scholarship. 

Apply the same general principle to the dance 
and the theatre. Do not split hairs in trying to de- 
cide about the right and wrong in the amusements 
themselves. Simply ask yourself what, not as fools, 
but as wise, you can afford. Make your own rules, 
in view of what you owe to yourselves and to others. 
Do not try to escape this discipline in life, by asking 
somebody else to formulate a code of laws, with a 
specific "thou shalt," or "thou shalt not," for every 
case. You certainly cannot afford anything which 
will corrupt your imagination, or lower your moral 
tone, or waste your energies, or lead others into 
peril. Circumspection will soon settle the tendency 
of such practices, and that tendency will soon settle 
the question of obligation. Most beneficial is the 
moral thoughtfulness produced by a personal re- 
view of all these debatable subjects, and the decision 
of your duty in the premises. 

Be circumspect in companionships. There are associ- 


ations which you cannot afford. You owe much in. 
the way of service to those who are degraded in 
rank and character. You are not at liberty to ex- 
clude them from your presence, but you -must seek 
them, with the deliberate purpose of lifting them to 
a higher level. That purpose will be your personal 
safeguard. But it is a very different thing when you 
court their society, simply because you find there 
certain fascinating evil traits, which derive their 
charm from a curious blending of good and bad. 
There is a strange infatuation on the part of many, 
who do not intend to give up their moral principles, 
in hovering around others, who are known to be not 
quite reputable characters. It is like the disposition 
of boys to skate around a hole in the ice, and see 
how near they can go without getting in. Like the 
boys, they never give it up till they do get in. It is 
marvelous how much moral exposure a man can 
meet without harm, in labors of love. He is like 
the physician, who moves about securely in the midst 
of all manner of contagious diseases. But let him 
abandon his benevolent purpose and, somehow, he 
will be as susceptible as any to contamination. There 
is in the minds of many who do not intend ever to 
cross the bounds of propriety, a prurient curiosity 
about some forms of vice. They conjecture about 
such shapes of evil, and dally with them in imagina- 
tion, till those shapes of darkness seems almost 
shapes of light. To those of this disposition, one 
who has seen a little more of this wicked world, but 
who' has not yet become gross and repulsive, is in- 
vested with special charms. He has had experience 
from which they half-shrink, and to which they are 
half-attracted. They would like, at least, to listen 


to his talk, and to learn somewhat more without 
much personal peril. This flatters the object of their 
admiration. He serves up in seductive style what 
facts he has, and supplies from his imagination what- 
ever may be lacking, to gratify the eager listener. 
And it is not long before the latter finds his better 
purposes relaxing, and his passions sweeping him on 
into sin. Dickens is a master in depicting the way 
in which the inexperienced lad is thus corrupted by 
one who is a little older in. vice, but who retains so 
much of the fairness of earlier life, that he does not 
startle and repel the other, by outrageous immorali- 
ties. Your heart is moved with compassion toward 
both. The older has many lovable traits. He has 
no set purpose to ruin his associate. He would hon- 
estly resent any such charge. He is mainly influ- 
enced by a passion to pose as a man of the world 
before the younger, whose open-eyed, open-mouthed 
wonder is such sweet incense to vanity. You feel 
that, though he is culpable, he is not totally depraved, 
and you are at a loss how to proceed to convince 
him of the damage which he is doing to his com- 
panion. If you turn to the latter and try to put him 
on his guard, he can scarcely realize that his curiosity 
is perilous, or be made to believe that his associate 
is chargeable with moral ugliness. Now, if any of 
you younger lads are forming intimacies of this sort, 
believe me you are doing what you cannot afford. 
Be circumspect, not as fools, but as wise. Redeem 
your time from this fascinating, but ruinous com- 

' Be circumspect in yotir reading. Redeem your time 
from many books and papers, for these days are evil 
in temptations of this description. Without any 


sympathy with the cry of the "good, old times," it 
must, nevertheless, be admitted that there was never 
before a period when the perils in print were so nu- 
merous and attractive. It is stated, and I suppose 
correctly, that, by some perversity in our postal laws,, 
in connection with certain publishers, Zola's novels,, 
the most corrupting of their kind, are carried in the 
United States mails at one cent a pound, while Bibles, 
histories and scientific treatises are carried at the 
rate of eight cents a pound. I need not repeat what 
has been said before, this year, concerning the pesti- 
lential nature of the French realistic school of fic- 
tion. There is probably very little of this vile stuff 
in circulation in this vicinity. One such book in a com- 
munity is just one book too many. But, besides publi- 
cations of this description, which are outlawed in 
decent society, there are others which wear a semi- 
respectable guise, receive a sort of endorsement 
from the literary world, and so find their way into 
the hands of multitudes, who are damaged by their 
perusal. Time is wasted, but that is not the worst. 
The imagination is subjected to an unhealthy strain, 
literary taste is perverted, discontent at common ex- 
perience is engendered, and a morbid state of the 
sensibilities becomes the chronic malady of the reader. 
" Be circumspect." Put all such reading into the list 
of things which you cannot afford. Moreover, in 
the highest and best range of fiction, there is con- 
stant danger of excess. To-day, ten of you are suf- 
fering from too many good novels, where one is suf- 
fering from their lack. Most of you break the law 
of proportion, and give to fiction what ought to be 
devoted to biography, history, poetry, essays, and 
scientific and philosophical treatises. 


Again, the modern newspaper is a combined bless- 
ing and temptation. It has become a necessary of 
life. Still, with all its rich miscellany of informa- 
tion, who is there that does not waste precious hours 
in skimming material which is worse than useless 
to himself, and to the interests which he is put into 
this world to promote. Procrastination must give 
way to the newspaper as the "thief of time." Memory 
is enfeebled. The power of concentrated and con- 
secutive thought is dissipated. Verily, the days are 

Such are some of the loudest calls for circumspec- 
tion. I have indicated in the way of amusements, com- 
panionships, and reading, a summary of the things 
which you cannot afford. Redeem from these your 
time, and" resolutely to the pursuits which 
should engross attention. 

We profess to be students, but how few of us know 
what hard study means? We may spend timeenough 
over open books, and try to dignify that as study. 
Does it, however, deserve the name? An hour of 
fixed attention is worth more than a day of dawdling. 
Oh, the listlessness and mental vacuity, which we 
call "search after truth!" There is plenty of literal 
" circumspection," that foolish looking around, first 
mentioned in the text. But how few of us know 
what Newton meant, when he said: " I keep the 
subject constantly before me, and wait until the first 
dawnings open slowly, little by little, into a full and 
clear light." Bulwer made it a rule not to study 
more than three hours in the twenty-four, but that 
long shelf of volumes from his pen, shows what he 
meant by study. Dickens is often supposed to have 
been a genius above all drudgery. But he declared 


rigid attention to be the secret of his success. Said 
he: " It is the one serviceable, safe, remunerative, 
attainable quality, in every study and every pursuit. 
My own imagination or invention, such as it is, I can 
most truthfully assure you, would never have served 
me as it has, but for the habit of common-place, 
humble, patient, daily, toiling, drudging attention." 
Gentlemen, genius and talent and mediocrity are 
under the same law. If you leave college without 
having acquired this power of concentrating thought, 
your years spent here will be of little value. The 
small fund of miscellaneous information which you 
may have picked up in a desultory way in the class- 
room, in conversation and in rubbing against books, 
will only make your weakness conspicuous in the 
competitions of life. But, if you have acquired this 
power of concentration, it is of comparatively little 
consequence how scanty are your acquisitions of 
facts, how limited your range of general reading, 
how few opportunites you have had for travel, and a 
knowledge of men and affairs. You possess the 
open secret of success, wherever your lot may be 
cast. You can utilize facts, you can turn books to 
account, you can quickly master a knowledge of men 
and affairs. . 

And now, redeem time for eternity. We have thus 
far laid the stress on that which pertains to the 
earthly life. But do not, I beseech you, confine this 
intense thought to these winged years. Never before 
have the days been so good, and, also, so evil. The 
last decade of the nineteenth century is the most in- 
spiring decade in human history. There was never 
such zest in existence as in this Columbian period. 
What expectations gather round the coming months! 


But do not our anticipations of the glory of the city 
by the lake, drive from rnind anticipations of the 
glory of the city by the Sea of Glass. Enthusiasm 
in temporal affairs is laudable, but such absorption 
in them grows perilous. Mortality obscures immor- 
tality. But what is this momentary throb, however 
ecstatic, compared with the power of an endless life? 
When the twenty-first century breaks, of what conse- 
quence to a single soul here, will all this fine fleet- 
ing show be, except as it has told upon our des- 
tiny, amid yonder invisible scenes, which are eter- 
nal ! Yet this is the despair of the preacher, his in- 
ability to make vivid that which everybody knows is 
inevitable within a hundred years. The cry of a 
child, the bark of a dog, the dip of a sparrow's wing, 
will dissipate the most "attentive seriousness in a most 
earnest discourse, concerning the issues of life and 
death eternal. Is it too much then, to declare these 
entrancing days EVIL, when they lead us to jeopard- 
ize most precious interests of infinite duration? A 
student, above all others, should naturally be per- 
sistently thoughtful, on these higher themes. His 
daily training tends to foster in him the habit of dis- 
regarding present ease and immediate results, 
for distant good. All this undergraduate toil, looks 
to post-graduate achievement. Why can we not 
lengthen the radius, till we fetch within our compass 
somewhat of the life beyond the grave? O lads and 
young men, check your giddiness, check your de- 
votion to the shams and shows of Vanity Fair, moder- 
ate your absorbing pursuit of whatsoever perisheth, 
be circumspect; look around, away around, make the cir- 
cle big. You cannot put a girdle about eternity, but 
you may take in so much thereof, that this little life 


which is "rounded with a sleep," shall seem very 
petty, yea, utterly contemptible; except as the deeds 
done therein, settle your destiny forever. Oh, redeem 
the time, REDEEM THE TIME ! 


"Every man, at the beginning, doth set forth good wine; 
and, when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but 
thou hast kept the good wine until now." John ii: 10. 

It is a .common characteristic of human nature to> 
set forth the best first. You need not travel far for 
an illustration. How many sermons disappoint you: 
in this very way? The exordium is mellow wine, the: 
peroration, "that which is worse." 

The principle is sound for the festal, board, but 
false when applied to mental and spiritual gratifica- 
tion. Yet multitudes of speakers, follow it, although 
they know that in so doing, they violate the law of 
climax, which is one of the plainest rules both of 
common and of sacred rhetoric. You often listen, 
with interest, to the first ten minutes of a discourse; 
then attention relaxes, and the faculties grow drowsy, 
or take wing to and fro through space. Sometimes, 
you alone are to blame. Sometimes, the minister is 
chiefly in fault. If you go to church from mere habit, 
indifferent, expecting to sleep, or to give yourself to 
day-dreaming, do not seek to throw the responsibility 
upon anybody else. If, however, you are there with 
ears to hear, if you listen readily for awhile, and 
then find yourself yielding to a mesmeric spell, or 
wandering aimlessly in your thoughts, it is likely 
that the speaker has exhausted his good wine, and is 
giving you something cheaper. This was the worst 
defect in one of the most suggestive sermonizers that 
I ever heard. He seldom failed to have good wine 
in the first half of his discourse, but he was so prod- 


igal of it at the outset, that he often left you dissat- 
isfied, at the conclusion. The reason lay upon the 
surface. His most vigorous ideas on a subject 
would flash upon him in the beginning. He would 
dash those off with tremendous energy, and exhaust 
his vigor, before he had reached the ordinary sermon 
limit. Instead of having the end in view from the 
start, he wasted his reserve. If such a speaker would 
give you his thoughts, in very nearly the reverse 
order, you would receive them all with steadily in- 
creasing interest, and the final impression would be 
profound and lasting. 

But do not suppose that the gospel of Christ is to 
be hampered by rhetorical forms. I have in mind 
another minister, whose sermons all seemed to be 
written with more reference to a particular text book 
than to the New Testament itself. As a consequence, 
they were artificial, unimpassioned homilies, correct 
in syntax, but utterly unfit to touch the heart and 
change the life. If we must have either this style or 
the other, the other would be preferable. Good 
wine only at the beginning, would be better than 
wine diluted all the time.j though it might improve 
somewhat -toward the last. Still, the best for the 
close, is the rule which your taste approves. 

Again, you will often see the temptation to strike 
twelve, first, illustrated in book-making, and that 
too, in authors whom you would suppose too wise to 
yield. I had not read Washington Irving much for 
twenty years, but, some time ago, I thought that I 
would renew his acquaintance. And so I got his 
masterpiece of humor, Knickerbocker's New York 
The first third proved a sparkling delight, brimming 
over with quaint conceits, the rest, so much flat 


champagne. The secret of the most successful com- 
position is, to catch attention in the initial chapter, 
and yet save that which is richest for the conclusion. 
The intellectual palate is not satisfied without a 
dessert to crown the repast. 

Leo employed Leonardo to put. a grand historic 
scene upon canvas. The artist immediately set about 
preparing his finishing varnish. The pontiff, de- 
serted by his usual shrewdness, was vexed at the 
sight, and exclaimed, that nothing could be expected 
of a man who began where he ought to leave off. 
Yet the painter understood his art all the time, better 
than did the pope. 

Pass, next, to society. What is your experience? 
In dealing with your ordinary acquaintances, do you 
not find that they bring out the best, first? Almost 
everybody fits up a show-window, in the secret hope 
that people will admire that, without prying into the 
back room. There is in the world an infinite deal of 
fine acting which never comes upon the theatre 

Two strangers meet, and, as a rule, each will try 
to make upon the other a favorable impression. 
Each will take pains to exhibit his more attractive 
qualities, and to hide whatever is repellant. When 
they part, it will be with a higher mutual estimate 
than facts would justify. No harm is done. Indeed, 
it is better for society in general, that its members 
should make some little effort to win one another's 
regard, by displaying the agreeable in the fore- 
ground, and keeping the disagreeable i-n the back- 
ground. Even thus, we shall find out enough that is 
bad, enough to put us out of conceit with human 


There is always prevalent in the community, a 
spirit of detraction, which will see to it that no in- 
dividual shall get more credit than he deserves. If 
you succeed in putting yourself a little above par with 
an acquaintance, you may be sure that he will meet 
some mutual acquaintance who will discount that 
over-estimate, so that, in the end, you will pass for no 
more than you are worth. Society is a self-con- 
stituted board of equalization, which, in general, 
settles quite fairly the value of all. It is amusing, to 
watch this play and counter play, to see the individ- 
ual busy Math his fine self-parade, airing his ex- 
cellencies, and making his handsomest bow, this way 
and that, to the passer-by, while society, behind his 
back, quietly jots down his short-comings, his half- 
hidden meannesses, his unconscious vanities, and 
spreads all upon the record, for the world to read. 

Bring the same idea to bear upon the smaller circle 
of friendship and intimacy. Recall the lessons 
taught. All your life, your soul has been reaching 
out and trying to cling to other souls. In some in- 
stances, it has not been deceived; but, in too many 
cases, it has been finally driven back in disappoint- 
ment upon itself. You have repeatedly said to your- 
self, I have at length found the friend whom I have 
so long sought in vain. This one will be to me as 
David to Jonathan. He will sympathize with me in 
my aspirations, counsel me in perplexity, help me in 
trouble, stand by me in peril, cherish my good name 
as his own, dispute the whispers of calumny, watch 
over my interests, plan for my advancement, tell me 
lovingly of my faults, be quick to encourage ex- 
cellencies, and rejoice in my successes, as if they were 
his own. I can read all these things, in our first in- 


terview. For awhile, anticipations seem realized, but, 
some day, you tell him whatever is in your heart, you 
keep back no fear, desire, hope. There is a moment's 
pause, and then, though the response is, in form, 
satisfactory, your intuitions tell you that there is 
something lacking. You miss you know not what. 
You wish that you had not gone so fast; that you 
had not said so much. You have given more than 
you receive. It is in the exchange of that which 
pertains to this inner life, that the soul feels bitterest 
about being cheated. 

Or, again, it may be that in your day of disaster, 
you look that way for comfort and an uplifting 
hand, and you receive only such stereotyped words 
of condolence as are kept in stock, ready-made for 
any applicant; while aid is given in a mechanical, 
perfunctory fashion, which hurts more than it heals. 
Or you learn that when your good name was assailed, 
your supposed friend simply said nothing, because 
he lacked courage to face abuse, and thus, by his 
silence, helped on the calumny. Or, perhaps, at 
some turning point in your history, when he might 
have done you invaluable service, he failed to do so, 
simply because he did not think of it, and you know 
that he would have thought of it, had he been what 
you supposed. Or you hear of his mentioning to 
others those faults in you, the existence of which he 
has never so much as hinted to you, faults which he 
ought to have put kindly, but plainly before you, in 
some hour of sacred confidence. In the same con- 
nection, you notice a puzzling reticence about letting 
you know that there are in you growing excellencies 
in manhood, that your work in life is gaining in 
weight and bulk, or that, if not increasing in quantity, 


it is taking on a finer and more spiritual quality, 
year by year. Moreover, when you go to him in- 
genuously and impulsively, with some little triumph, 
supposing that of course your joy will be his joy, 
there is just a half-perceptible coldness, 'which 
sweeps over you like an ague chill, and sets you to 
calling yourself a fool, for not keeping your thoughts 
at home. Now, how came you to get into such 
trouble? How did that man secure your unlimited 
confidence? The text guides to the secret. When 
he met you, he set forth his good wine first. You 
took it eagerly. It intoxicated your senses. You 
thought that a fair sample of an exhaustless stock in 
store. You gave yours.elf up to the delusion, which 
was delightful enough, till the day of revelation. 

Now, consider the contrast in our experience with 
Christ. He furnishes the best for the last. There 
are believers, who are always sighing, and singing: 

" Where is the blessedness I knew, 
When first I saw the Lord?" 

But reasons are not difficult to find. In these in- 
stances, the emotional nature is predominant. The 
transition from death to life is attended by a convul- 
sion of feeling, which makes a profound impression 
upon the individual. He recurs to it, and magnifies 
it as the crisis of destiny. He belittles everything 
else in comparison. He depreciates the gradual un- 
folding of Christian truth, and the steady develop- 
ment of religious character, till, in time, the couplet 
quoted is an accurate transcript of his inner life. 
The longer he perseveres in this habit of contrasting 
all else with the vivid experience of the hour of con- 
version, the less likely is he to become a useful, ag- 


gressive Christian. Both saints and sinners weary 
of one who can do nothing but wring his hands, and 
bewail an enthusiasm which was born and buried on 
the day of regeneration. They feel that spiritual 
infancy should put off its swaddling bands, and grow 
toward fullness of stature in Jesus. 

A clear and dazzling view of the Redeemer's love, 
in conversion, is an occasion for thanksgiving, 
provided it does not blind the soul to future displays 
of the Savior's infinite grace, and hinder the indi- 
vidual in the practical manifestations of a religious 
life. You see, now and then, a Christian, who, like 
Lot's wife, is always looking back at that from 
which he escaped. Such a one may become a pillar 
of salt, but it is by no means that salt of the earth 
which the Master desires. It is savourless, worthless 
for his uses among men. 

There is a much more wholesome conception of 
religion. What takes place when the heart is given to 
God should arrest attention, but not bring us to a halt 
there, in wonder at its happening and in regret that 
it cannot be repeated. Suppose that we may never 
have again the same spiritual sensations, that is no 
indication that there is nothing better in store. 
Christ would never intoxicate the soul with bliss 
and forever after give it poor wine. He may let you 
taste of blessedness in the beginning, but you are 
foolish to think that you drank it all, the first hour. 
He always keeps for you that which is better than 
what you have had. This is the only true and satis- 
factory view of the relation of Jesus to the believer. 

Notice more particularly the method of his revela- 
tion. " He that doeth his will shall know of the doc- 
trine." At conversion, you are little more than a 


child with a block alphabet or an illuminated spirit- 
ual primer. It is a new thing. You are happy as 
you spell out a few words or exhibit your highly 
colored pictures ; but, surely you are not going to 
be content there. As you grow older, you will not 
keep up a lament that you can not still sit upon the 
floor and put together your A B C's, and thumb 
those gaudy prints over and over. The course 
marked out for you by the Great Teacher is pro- 
gressive. He expects you to advance, from grade to 
grade, in the knowledge of Himself. At the outset, he 
appears to you chiefly as the forgiver of your individ- 
ual sins, as your deliverer from condemnation, as the 
promiser of a place in heaven hereafter. Thus a strong 
appeal is made to gratitude. But presently you are 
overwhelmed with a sense of your personal unfitness 
for such a state of being, and an intense desire 
springs up for the formation of a character, which 
shall be in harmony with your surroundings, when 
you pass from this life to the other. 

Thereupon, the character of Jesus begins to un- 
fold before you as both model and inspiration. 
Where you are weak, you find him strong. Where 
you fail, you see him succeed. You detect a shal- 
low place in yourself, but when you take soundings 
in him, just there the depths are fathomless. You 
tell him, all that is in your heart, and never regret 
the fulness of your confidence. He is not so occu- 
pied with his own affairs that your interests are for- 
gotten. When you go to him with your little 
triumphs, instead of betraying some trace of cold- 
ness or jealously, he meets you with cordial con- 
gratulations. Furthermore, you find that all your 
draughts do not diminish the supply. What he is to 


you, he is to every individual in the Christian broth- 

Take the noblest specimen of merely human 
nature and it can meet the demands of only a limited 
number, Mr. Moody falling to sleep on his knees 
in the inquiry room. Man is a cistern, soon pumped 
dry; Christ is an unfailing fountain, fed by all the 
clouds of heaven. How the view of him expands, 
as you see him meeting, not only every demand of 
your soul, but also every demand of believers uni- 
versally! Constant communion with such a being 
purifies and exalts your own purposes. You grow 
more and more ashamed of your selfishness. Your 
impulses towards righteousness crystallize into shin- 
ing principle. You are filled with, not .only a de- 
sire to be like him, but also with a belief that you 
can be like him in your limited sphere. In that re- 
spect there is a marked difference between the in- 
fluence exerted over you by contact with a great 
man, and that exerted over you by association with 
Him of Nazareth. 

You may be conscious of a certain uplifting power 
in the presence of a mighty warrior, or statesman, 
but you are left with a sense of dissatisfaction and 
discouragement. You return to your work with 
more or less discontent at its pettiness. But such 
is not the experience of the Christian in the society 
of his Master. Comparative insignificance may be- 
come more and more manifest, but, at the same time, 
the hope and determination to grow in likeness to 
that Master will gather strength with the years. 
There is something marvelous about that. Think 
of it. Suppose that there were held up before you, 
for imitation, the character of Plato, or Socrates, or 


Aurelius, or Alfred, or Washington; you might ad- 
mire, yet you would answer, Oh no! I can not be like 
any one of those. But when the character of Jesus 
Christ is urged upon you, as a model, something 
within straightway responds, yes I can, and by the 
grace of God I will be like him. 

Now, infidelity may sneer, but it can not sneer 
away a fact like that, which takes on grander pro- 
portions with each succeeding year of our religious 

Turn, likewise, from these teachings of individual 
history, to what is revealed of Christ in general his- 
tory. The older we grow in the faith the more 
clearly do we discern the influence of the Nazarene 
in the world's progress. To our thought, he becomes 
less and less "the despised and rejected of men." 
Some may try to shut him out of the sciences and 
the philosophies and may seek to put him upon the 
same plane with Mahomet or Confucius; some may 
exalt the "Light of Asia," but He of Palestine will 
continue to be the " Light of the World." 

The race is fast outgrowing other reformers. He 
alone walks in advance of all our boasted progress. 
If you are a reading man orAvoman, you come, every 
little while, upon some article which labors hard 
to prove that Christianity is, or is fast becoming an 
obsolete system, that it had its uses sixteen or eight- 
een centuries ago, that it -then quickened sluggish 
thought and dull moral perceptions; but that, like the 
Exodus of Israel in ancient times or the Crusades 
of a more modern era, it is one of the spent factors 
of civilization ; and that, to depend upon it for work- 
ing the present problems of society will only prevent 
getting a satisfactory answer. In case you are not 


2 93 

united to Christ by a living faith, you may be be- 
wildered by these flourishes of rhetorical scepticism, 
you may be blinded by such plausible sophistries 
and may be led to join in the same silly strain. But 
if there be a vital connection between your heart and 
the heart of Jesus, the prospect will so open before 
you as the years come and go, your insight into the 
.spiritual processes which are secretly operating in 
human affairs', will be so quickened that you can 
smile in perfect unconcern at all this loud talk of un- 
belief, about the decay of theology and about an 
antiquated gospel. 

The material does sometimes seem to be eclips- 
ing the spiritual. Multiplied inventions causing the 
earth's surface to wave Avith unprecedented harvests, 
discoveries showing the globe's interior shining with 
silver and gold, trade pushing into the heart of dark 
continents, commerce ploughing the waters of every 
zone, geology laying bare the strata of the planet, 
and lighting them up as a wonderland of resurrec- 
tion, and biology pointing to that resurrection and 
noisily proclaiming new doctrines of life, all these 
may for awhile cry: "Away with Him! Away with 
Him!" but they can not crucify 'him out of the 
world's thought. They may pierce his hands through 
and through, but those pierced' hands will still con- 
tinue to hide the leaven of his kingdom, in field, and 
mine, and business, and scientific discovery, till, 
finally, mankind shall worship him only as Lord of 

San Francisco, Chicago, New York, Paris, London 
may point proudly to paved streets, marble walls, pala- 
tial abodes,treasures gathered from every clime, count- 
less multitudes surging up and down the thorough- 


fares, railroads groaning under burdens of freight 
and travel, and wharves waving with flags of many 
nationalities. They may, in contrast, superciliously 
ask: " Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" 
Discipleship answers, as of old: " Come and see." 

Pomp and pageantry are wanting. There is noth- 
ing in this quiet village to catch the careless eye. It 
is seemingly the last place on earth to sway the des- 
tines of mankind. Yet, out of that contemptible 
town, with its shiftless inhabitants and its grass- 
grown streets, walks a figure that has shaped, as 
has no other, the written and the unwritten history 
of the race, noiselessly treading the by-ways and 
high-ways of reason, directing more and more the 
course of human events, quietly ruling where his 
presence is not recognized, and, this day, though his 
voice may not rise above the din and roar of a thous- 
and industries, a KING in disguise, patiently waiting, 
till, in the fulness of time, the great cities of both 
hemispheres shall unite in ascribing HONOR to 
NAZARETH, as standing high above them all, be- 
cause from her have issued in the person of the SON 
OF MAN those forces which have revolutionized 
and saved this lost world. 

"I am the vine," said Jesus. Generations past 
have plucked and crushed some of the clusters. 
They have tasted the new wine of the KINGDOM, 
But the choicest vintage is to be by and by. The 
best cometh last. Yea, we shall not know its full 
flavor, till we drink of it with HIM, Yonder. 


It was nearly twelve o'clock on Monday night 
when I first heard of the cruel accident which had 
shocked this whole community and had overwhelm- 
ed with sorrow this beloved family.- I could not 
sleep till into the small hours of the morning, for 
thinking of the desolation which had come upon a 
happy home. The days grew fresh in memory when 
he who has long been an honored elder brother in 
the ministry was my college tutor, and I read to 
him from' Virgil's song of 

"A youth full armed, by none excelled 
In beauty's manly grace, 
Though on his brow was naught of mirth, 
And his fixed eyes were dropped to earth, 
While gloomy night, as of the dead, 
Flapther black pinions o'er his head. 

The youth the Fates but just display 
To earth, nor let him longer stay, 
piety! ancient faith! 

Bring lilies here, in handfuls bring, 
Their lustrous blooms I fain would fling, 
Yet, what avails it now?" 

And afterward the college tutor became the vil- 
lage pastor, and the trusted adviser of the pupil, who 
had himself, meanwhile, become a teacher. Then 
there was the romance of life, and the younger 
friend stood beside the older friend, who stood in 

* Words spoken at the funeral of James W. Tupper, the son 
of a life-long friend, Rev. H. M. Tupper. 


the church in another town, still nearer the girl who 
should one day be the mother of the son who taketh 
here his final rest. It is good to recall the vanished 
years, years of patient, faithful, fruitful service to 
the people years of happiness when the boys and 
the girls entered the household. Yes, now that the 
bitterness is past, it is good to recall even the year 
when that otljer dear son was torn from the family 

It was only last month, my brother, that our hearts 
were full of these recollections, as we spoke to- 
gether the farewell words of affection, at the funeral 
of a mutual friend,* in the old church where you 
used to preach to that friend and to me. As we 
turned away from the cemetery, we said to ourselves, 
"who next?" Was it not merciful that it was hid- 
den from us who the next should be? 

The following week, I attended the Home Mis- 
sionary Conference, at the Chicago Theological 
Seminary. Among the most eager listeners at the 
sessions in chapel and church was this your son. 
He talked to me happily of his new studies, and of 
the ministry on which he hoped to enter by and by. 
I wish I could photograph for you his features, as 
I saw them last in the First Church and in Carpen- 
ter Hall. The face was bright with the light of 
young discipleship. That light has faded out of 
the countenance in the coffin, but it has grown more, 
radiant in the presence of God. 

As I recall the earnest deliberations of that con- 
ference, the urgency with which the scarcity of edu- 
cated men in the ministry was dwelt upon by every 

* Major John C. Salter. 


speaker, the importunate plea made by all the 
.superintendents, in the name of pastorless churches 
throughout the states of the Interior and the terri- 
tories of the West, I grow more and more perplexed 
over the distressing event which has brought us 
together. In human short-sightedness, I cannot 
help saying: I ought not to be here conducting such 
a service; this coffin ought not to be in the church; 
the Master hath need of thee on earth, young broth- 
_er; you should be, this very afternoon, where you 
planned to be, studying with fresh zeal, after vaca- 
tion recreation, the Hebrew and the Greek, the lan- 
guage of the prophets and the language of the 
Messiah, so that you may presently interpret wisely 
to men the oracles of God; if our youth must be 
taken away in their prime, they ought to be stricken 
down in the vocations and professions which have 
men enough and to spar. They ought not to be 
swept from the ranks of the only calling on earth 
which is pitifully crying for recruits. Is not the 
Master forgetting the necessities of His kingdom? 
Forgive us, Lord, that tears blind our eyes, that 
grief for the moment prostrates faith, and that re- 
bellion drives us to arraign the Providence of God. 
In our heart of hearts we know that these great , in- 
terests which we love are infinitely more precious 
unto Thee; that Thou wilt never abandon the world 
as lost, and that in Thy keeping the church univer- 
sal is absolutely safe forever.- And then another 
protest will rise to the lips. Though these grand 
affairs may move securely on, through the centuries, 
toward the millennium, is the Master dealing quite 
fairly with a faithful servant, who has done his bid- 
ding these many years, and who needs a son to lean 


upon as the days draw near that have little earthly 
pleasure in them? Is such the pity of the Lord to 
those that fear Him? He certainly knoweth our 
frame, but does he not sometimes forget that we are 
dust? How could He permit this grievous afflic- 
tion to overtake one who through life has sought to- 
know and to do the Heavenly Father's will? Must 
the bruised reed be broken? Must the smoking 
flax be quenched? There need have been no mir- 
acle. There need have been no voice from the 
skies, warning of danger. Some gentle influence 
of the Spirit, such as we feel sure often directs 
the steps, though men are not conscious of its 
presence, might have prevented the catastrophe. 
Why was that influence withheld? Could not the 
natural desire of a father that his name be perpetu- 
ated be gratified, especially a consecrated longing,, 
hereditary in the family, that one at least in each 
successive generation should be a minister of the 
gospel? Does this, the holiest ambition that can 
. possess a parent's heart, fail to move the Lord of 

Friends, such questions as these are clamoring in 
your minds here this afternoon, but you are saying 
to yourselves: Why is the speaker voicing inquiries 
that he cannot answer? Would it -not be better to 
avoid all such suggestions? No. This stricken 
household is passing through the supreme ordeal of 
faith. For two days and nights such cries have been 
fierce in their hearts. It helps them to know that 
they are not alone in their dire perplexity. This 
pent up distress finds a certain relief in expression. 
And God is not at all tried by what you and I are 
thinking and saying in this presence. He knows 


that we cannot help it just now. He looks down 
upon the scene with wonderful compassion. We 
should not have permitted this calamity had the 
control of affairs been in our hands. Certainly not. 
Neither would God, had he been shut up under the 
low vaulted firmament and hemmed in by the con- 
tracted horizon which restrict our vision. But does 
that prove aught against his boundless love? Why, 
what has God He has taken this ingenuous 
youth from an earthly career, which had its attrac- 
tions. There is delight in the thought that our 
finite plans are a part of the infinite plan. There 
is satisfaction in putting one or two bricks where 
they will stay, in the temple which the Supreme 
Architect is rearing for His glory. There is exhila- 
ration in knowing that our little stroke is in line with 
the majestic sweep of the arm that is omnipotent. 

This youth has lost that, but how much has he 
been spared? He is freed from watching the ever 
widening distance between the ideal and the real. 
He need not know what it is to row wearily for a 
long life against a stubborn current. He will never 
have to contend with the nervous exhaustion of 
crowding on some laudable Christian enterprise, 
with resources utterly inadequate. He steps at once 
from the high plane of consecration on earth to the 
high range of possibilities yonder, where work shall 
bring no weariness, where aspiration shall meet no 
discouragement, where fine achievement shall always 
reach its shining goal. 

My brother and sister: You gave your boy to 
God, for service anywhere. Your faith will not fail. 
There must be a struggle. But you will find new 
strength in the love of these daughters. Your flock 


will be drawn to you in tender sympathy impossible 
before. The sweet resignation with which you bury 
your sorrow will subdue hearts which argument 
could never influence. And, finally, you will be 
glad that God has spared your son such trials as 
have marked your earthly ministry and has called 
him to the more blessed service of the upper temple, 
because the King hath most need of him there. 


With profound respect, with grateful affection, 
and with an indescribable sense of loneliness, do I 
rise to speak beside the coffin of one, who has been 
to me health in sickness, rest in weariness and good 
cheer amid multiplied anxieties. 

There is no other relation like that to the trusted 
physician, who has been in the house when the 
angel of life has entered, or when the angel of death, 
with his black wings, has blown out the light of the 

It is almost forty years since in boyhood I first 
heard of this then young surgeon's fame, but for 
only half of that period has there been a familiar 
home acquaintance. That word, familiar, sounds 
strangely to many. Say they, any other adjective 
would be more appropriate in speaking of the quiet, 
silent, reserved, sometimes brusque and distant 
David Prince, whom we have nevertheless held in the 
highest esteem. I used to think so. Much as I 
admired the man's professional skill and blunt sin- 
cerity, there was great constraint in his society. 
One day back in the seventies, we happened to be in 
the same room together alone. There was no escape. 
We sat in silence half an hour. We looked vacantly 
at each other. Then both began to smile. Then 
both burst into a laugh. Then the ice broke up and 
went out, as it does in the river in early spring. And 

^Address at the funeral of Dr. David 'Prince. 


since then, the current of conversation has always 
been open between us two, fill now. 

One night, a dozen years ago, we sat up till into 
the small hours of the morning, discussing revealed 
religion and, especially, the revelation of God in 
Christ. His words and bearing were earnest and 
reverent. Our creeds were in part concurrent, in 
part divergent, and we bade each other good-bye, 
saying that, whichever was right and whichever was 
wrong, if we could preserve that same spirit of 
patient docility, we should at length be guided to a 
knowledge of all essential truth. Since then, we 
have had no long formal talk on such questions, and 
it is not wise to speculate upon them in this pres- 
ence. I think that if our departed friend could 
speak, this is what he would wish to say. 

We are here to pay tribute to beneficence of life, 
and not to discuss perfection in dogma. 

Doctor David Prince was an enthusiast in his pro- 
fession. It is peculiarly the profession of the family. 
Sons and son-in-law all follow in his footsteps. 
Large numbers of the medical fraternity from the 
region round about have come to do honor to his 
memory to-day. In view of these facts, it is appro- 
priate that, here in the house of him who was known 
as the Great Physician, we should speak briefly of 
this high calling. I believe that what may be said, 
would have the cordial approbation of him who is 
speechless on earth forever. 

There is a current, and there is a counter current, 
coursing through the medical profession. The current 
is materialistic, and the counter current is theistic. 
In following the healing art, the practitioner is con- 
stantly attracted to the working of natural agencies. 


Attention is mainly directed to the action of tangible 
substances upon the human system. This magnifies 
the relative importance of formulas and recipes and 
efficient causes. The physician becomes so absorbed 
in tracing the operation of remedies from the dis- 
pensary, that he is led insensibly to discredit the 

With deep solicitude, do I watch this process go- 
ing on, in the minds of some very dear friends in 
this noble vocation. They themselves may not be 
aware of what is taking place, but it is painfully evi- 
dent, that they are losing the vividness and fresh- 
ness of an earlier faith. This tendency is greatly 
accelerated by brain dissection, and the localization 
of functions, in connection with different parts of 
that organ. Mind and matter are thus brought into 
so intimate relations, that there is special tempta- 
tion, to look upon such ideas as conscience, and sin, 
and holiness, as the antiquated notions of a dying 
creed, and to regard what used to be considered 
moral and immoral actions, as physiological effects, 
for which the individual is not accountable. The 
vivisection of animals, and the comparison thus 
made possible between corresponding organs in 
brute and man, are shedding some light upon ques- 
tions of mental and moral philosophy, and it is 
likely that physiology will, in future, make much 
more valuable contributions to psychology; but, as 
yet, we have not got beyond vague hypotheses and 
partial experiments. There are- some shrewd guess- 
es at truth and some wild guesses at truth. Amid 
the fascinations of inquiry, men are quite as likely 
to go wrong as to go right. Inductions are made 
too hastily. A fragment is magnified by imagina- 


tion into a supposed discovery startling and revo- 
lutionary. The charm of this kind of research is 
especially captivating to the younger and more 
enthusiastic members of the profession. But so 
long as the great question of the relation of brain 
substance to thought, and of the nervous system 
to moral action, is still under debate, before the- 
ories, however plausible, have been subjected to 
numerous and unequivocal tests, it should not be 
forgotten that, though the scientific imagination has 
lofty uses, it is likewise liable to gross abuses. 

So, too, when the discussion passes from brain cells 
to cell life and germ life in general, though valu- 
able results have been reached, and though even 
better things are in prospect, it is exceedingly whole- 
some, to listen to words like these from one of the 
world's greatest scientists: "It would indeed be 
difficult, in any other department of human knowl- 
edge, to find anything to equal the extravagance of 
hypotheses recently advanced concerning living 
matter and its properties." 

Now educated, thoughtful and progressive physi- 
cians, more than any other men, have forced upon 
them, by the very nature of their vocation, all these 
vague speculations concerning the origin of life and 
of moral responsibility. They are more exposed 
than any others to the subtle influences of that sci- 
entific school, which would exalt efficient causes 
and secondary agencies, so as to thrust the Great 
First Cause out out of sight altogether, or, at least, 
to crowd Him so far into the back-ground, as to re- 
move Him, practically, from all present, active part 
in the affairs of mankind. 

This does not mean that we should, in a cowardly 


way, flee from such investigations. Let the exami- 
nation be bold and . thorough. There is more to 
fear from turning the back upon scientific research, 
or from approaching it with fear and trembling, than 
from engaging in it patiently and exhaustively, in 
the candid spirit of Doctor David Prince, who was 
ready to abandon any darling hypothesis, the mo- 
ment it was proved false to facts. But, gentlemen, 
there, is a counter current swift and strong. It takes 
its set from anatomy. The study of a human skele- 
ton converted Galen, whose disciples ye are. 

Though skeptical in his tendencies, he became so 
impressed with the evidences of adaptation and de- 
sign that were forced upon him, by his constant 
examination of the frame work of the body, that he 
was brought at last to subscribe, most reverently, to 
the doctrine of an omnipotent and omniscient 
Creator. At the foot of some dangerous plants, you 
may find growing nature's own remedy for any harm 
which those plants may inflict. So, while there are 
dangers connected with your beneficent vocation, 
the blessed antidote is never far away. 

Though I have meant to speak plainly of the chief 
peril of your profession, no one could cherish a 
more exalted conception of the dignity of the physi- 
cian, as, at the portal of life, he ushers the child into 
the world, as he bends over the couch of suffering, 
and turns cries of distress into songs of rejoicing, or as, 
till the very last, he blocks the gateway of death, 
and fights back the destroyer. Who can over-esti- 
mate that man's power for good? In many respects 
he enjoys advantages superior to those of any other 
mortal. As the confidential medical adviser, he ob- 
tains, as nobody else can obtain it, an intimate knowl- 


edge of family history, hereditary tendencies, and 
personal peculiarities. While studying the physical 
constitution of parent and child, he incidentally be- 
comes acquainted with the mental and moral char- 
acteristics of both, without their being aware of the 
revelation, and, therefore, without any temptation 
on their part to assume such disguises as are- often 
put on when the minister is making his professional 

So far as personal influence in the domestic circle 
is concerned, the physician may out-rank the clergy- 
man. The latter has not the same insight into the 
general relations of the household, and into the pe- 
culiarities of individual members. His calls must 
be more or less methodical and perfunctory, and, 
consequently, they may not be made at all oppor- 
tunely. But the former is sure of his ground, 
and he can seize the happiest moments for directing 
thought to those interests which reach on beyond the 
grave. By the cradle, by the couch of the conva- 
lescent, and by the coffin, the voice of the beloved 
physician may be sweet as is no other, with heavenly 

I wish that it were proper for me to repeat here a 
story that I heard last night, concerning the tender 
and reassuring way in which this man, so strong and 
. rugged, led a timid and shrinking woman down till 
the cold waters touched her feet, and her lips were 
ready for the song which the immortals sing. I wish 
that it were proper to make articulate here the dumb 
testimony which is locked up in the breasts of a 
great multitude of the poor, both the deserving and 
the undeserving, (for his sympathies were so free that 
he could not discriminate), whom he visited in sick- 


ness, without thought of compensation. But that 
is not necessary, for it is familiar knowledge to you 
all, and the departed himself would protest against 
such recitals. 

There has been one hard feature of Doctor Prince's 
professional life, about which he never complained, 
but which ought to be mentioned. It was causedby his 
very eminence as a surgeon. He has had to deal 
with more desperate cases than any other doctor in 
Central Illinois. Besides the natural proportion of 
such in his own vicinity, it has long been the custom 
of general practitioners, who have not made 
surgery a specialty, when ordinary measures have 
failed, to summon this veteran, who, it is no dis- 
credit to younger men to say, has long held the first 
rank here as a surgeon. In dealing with so many 
forlorn hopes, heroic expedients have often been 
necessary, and, occasionally, good but thoughtless 
people, ignorant of the facts, have been unjust in 
their judgment of this man of steady nerve, and 
cunning hand, and loving heart. 

This is mentioned to emphasize the spirit with 
which such misapprehensions have been borne. It 
is worthy of admiration and of imitation by all pub- 
lic men. Doctor Prince never went about making 
explanations and excuses. He did not rush into the 
papers to air his personal grievances, real or imagi- 
nary; but with quiet dignity threw himself back upon 
his character, content to let that take care of his 
reputation. In this view, would it be any flattery to 
say, that the manliest man among us died the other 
night? Such an affirmation is not made, but the 
question may stimulate beneficial self-examination. 

When asked, yesterday afternoon, to say a few 



words to-day, it was my thought to confine remark 
to the relation of the departed to the educational 
interests of Jacksonville. But the allotted twenty 
minutes have nearly expired in other suggestions, 
which perhaps better befit the Sabbath and the sanc- 
tuary. I can not close, however, without outlining 
a brief, which might be expanded into a long ad- 

In the public library and reading room, many 
books and periodicals inscribed with the name of 
Doctor David Prince, bear silent witness to his 
thoughtfulness for those of both sexes and of all 
ages, who are largely indebted to such philanthrophic 
enterprises for enlightenment. It was a happy sug- 
gestion at the meeting last night, that the city should 
honor herself, by making that public library a memo- 
rial of him who loved the people. Who can take 
the place of Doctor David Prince in the affections of 
the pupils and teachers of our common schools? 
No one else has been more zealous in the support of 
a high school for the sons and daughters of those 
unable to pay the cost of tuition for advanced in- 
struction. The institutions for the education of the 
blind, and of the deaf and dumb, have always found 
him eager to aid in magnifying their beneficent work. 
The commercial school has prized his kindly appre- 
ciation of its efforts to promote system and efficiency 
in business methods. Our female seminaries have 
lost one of their best friends, an enthusiastic advo- 
cate of the highest learning for woman. 

Illinois College has enjoyed in him a wise and lib- 
eral counsellor. For years there has notbeen formed 
for her welfare a single plan, which has not had his 
sympathy', verbal and pecuniary. More than once 


has he said: " Come to me whenever there is a pro- 
ject on foot to render the college a greater blessing." 
More than once has he sought an opportunity to 
make a generous donation before he was approached 
on the subject. How many citizens are there left in 
Jacksonville who cherish for all our institutions of 
learning an interest so discriminating and compre- 
hensive, as did the beloved physician of the great 
heart and the liberal hand? 

Fond father, tender husband, loyal brother, friend 
never false, shining light in an illustrious profession, 
honor to the city, noble figure in the commonwealth, 
model American citizen, lover of every creature that 
beareth the image of God, Farewell ! 


" If a man die, shall he live again?" Job xiv: 14. 

The book of Job may be the oldest book in the 
Bible. Criticism shows that the author probably 
lived about the time of Abraham, and that strict 
chronological order would put the book after a few 
of the opening chapters of Genesis. The literature 
of the doctrine of immortality embraces several 
thousand volumes or parts of volumes. Job was the 
first recorded contributor to the discussion. 

The general belief of the Egyptians, Hebrews 
and Greeks was strikingly similar. The Hebrews 
and Greeks borrowed from the .Egyptians. I can 
not doubt that the faith in immortality had its gene- 
sis in the mind of the first man created in the image 
of God. The fact that he was the offspring of the 
Eternal would certainly suggest the idea that the 
everlasting life of the Father would be imparted to 
the child. 

But historic data are wanting, for tracing the earli- 
est development of that idea. Not till we reach the 
records of Egypt do we discover a definite creed, 
accepted by the multitude. A love for the abiding 
was a peculiar characteristic of the Egyptian people. 
The mummy and the pyramid both bear witness to 
this fact. No other nation has ever taken such 
pains to preserve the bodies of the dead, or to rear 
structures which should successfully withstand the 
ravages of time. The reasons are largely climatic. 
The atmosphere there did not stir the blood, tempt- 


ing to adventure and migration, as did the atmos- 
phere of a more norjthern latitude. Moreover, the 
beneficence of the Nile was a constant invitation to 
remain in the same region, from generation to gen- 
eration. Again, the climate was such, that material 
structures would neither crumble nor perish, as else- 
where. The pyramids there suffer less from the 
action of the elements in thousands of years than 
they would here in a century. The whole environ- 
ment of the people constantly turned their thoughts 
toward the everlasting. What suggestion could be 
more natural than this: if the body and the tomb of 
the body may be made proof against decay, why 
may not the soul live on forever? The essentially 
permanent conditions of mortal life crowded the 
question of immortal life upon the attention of the 
Egyptians, as upon no other heathen nation of 
antiquity. Their wonderful learning, not content 
with a knowledge of the world, sought to follow the 
stars in their courses, and then, unabashed, filled the 
invisible with its speculations. 

Out of the Egyptian conception grew the He- 
brew doctrine of the other life. Job was an Arabian 
patriarch.' Living at no great distance from Egypt, 
he received from that region some notion of another 
world, as the abode of the dead. He was, however, 
too far removed, to borrow the creed entire. He 
sought, through his own philosophizing, to complete 
a system of belief, respecting the destiny of the 
soul. The text introduces him at this stage in his 
speculations. The patriarch had no clear idea of 
immortality. He was not even a believer in the doc- 
trine of the resurrection. We often quote, at the 
grave-side, those beautiful words from his lips: "I 


know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall, at 
the latter day, stand upon the earth." We apply the 
passage to the Messiah and the final resurrection; and 
it does express a precious truth, with rare felicity. 
But an examination of the text, in the light of the 
context, proves conclusively, that, in uttering it, Job 
had no thought of a coming Christ, or of the ris- 
ing from the dead. He was only voicing an unshak- 
en faith in God, as his vindicator in the present life. 
The prophecy simply anticipated the triumphant 
sequel of the story of his grievous temptation. God 
did administer a withering rebuke to the patriarch's 
accusers, and that " latter day " was the day of his 
multiplied worldly prosperity. 

In the times of Job, the Hebrew doctrine of immor- 
tality had been developed so far as this and no far- 
ther : the souls of all live on in a shadowy Under- 
world ; there is no suggestion of reward for the 
righteous ; there is a single intimation of possible 
retribution for the wicked. Examine the books of 
Moses and many of the books which follow them, and 
you can not discover a single distinct, unmistak- 
able avowal of a belief in the doctrine in question. 
Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and Joshua and the 
Judges all talk most fluently concerning an earthly 
Canaan ; but they have not a word to say concern- 
ing a heavenly Canaan. Even when, they stand up- 
on the brink of the grave, they express neither hope 
nor fear, respecting what may lie beyond, in realms 

The translation of Enoch and of Elijah was a 
miraculous termination of earthly careers, but it had 
no special bearing on this subject. We believe that 
Enoch and' Elijah were taken to the presence of 


God, to dwell there forever, but there is no such 
plain statement in Genesis and Kings. We suppose 
that all those ancient worthies cherished some such 
creed as Job's, in respect to the continued existence 
of the soul ; but we have absolutely no testimony 
from their own lips, to that effect. The first half of 
the Old Testament contains no authoritative THUS 
SAITH THE LORD, on the question of an endless life. 

You do find, scattered here and there, hints, sugges- 
tions and anxious inquiries, but nothing more. We 
are so accustomed to reading into those old records 
the revelations of later ages, that we fail to realize, 
how dense was the darkness then enveloping this 
question, even -among God's chosen people. 

The practice of necromancy in the reign of Saul 
indicates that a belief in the soul's future existence 
was spreading among the Israelites. When, at 
length, you reach the Psalms of David, the idea be- 
gins to crystallize, and to exert a spiritual influence, 
till then unknown. God so quickened the poetic in- 
sight of the shepherd king, as to let in new gleams 
of light, and to excite a deeper interest in the prob- 
lem of the soul's destiny. 

The Psalmist is also the first Hebrew writer to an- 
nounce the doctrine of future retribution. Whether 
the word be translated Hell, or Hades, or the grave, 
the idea of penalty will cling to the verse: "The 
wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations 
that forget God." Similar views are declared by 
several of the succeeding prophets, but by none so 
clearly as by the Psalmist, until you come to this pre- 
diction by Daniel, which is the most vivid language 
in the Old Testament, on the doctrine of immor- 
tality. "And many of those that sleep in the dust 


of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life,, 
and some to shame and everlasting contempt. And 
they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of 
the firmament ; and they that turn many to righteous- 
ness, as the stars, for ever and ever." Fitting pre- 
lude to the advent of HIM, who was and who is the 


Plato's Dialogues embody the world's most ad- 
vanced thoughts on immortality prior to the Christian 
era. The topic was exceedingly fascinating to that 
philosopher. He refered to it, incidentally, in the 
discussion of many other subjects, subjects which 
would seem to have with it only the remotest con- 
nection. But the Phaedo and the Apology contain 
his clearest utterances. From these I quote briefly: 
" Like children, you are haunted with a fear, that 
when the soul leaves the body, the wind may really 
blow her away and scatter her, especially if a man 
should happen to die in stormy weather, and not 
when the sky is calm. That soul which is pure, her- 
self invisible, departs to the invisible world. Thither 
arriving, she lives in bliss and is released from the 
error and folly of men, their fears and wild passions, 
and all other human ills, and forever dwells in com- 
pany with the gods." " Those who are remarkable 
for having led holy lives are released from this 
earthly prison, and go to their pure home, which is 
above, and dwell in the purer earth. And those who 
have duly purified themselves with philosophy, live 
henceforth altogether without the body, in mansions 
fairer than these, which may not be described, and 
of which the time would fail me to tell. Those, 
again, who have committed crimes, which, although 
great, are not unpardonable, are plunged into Tar- 


tarus, the pains of which they are compelled to 
undergo for a year. But those who appear to be in- 
curable, by reason of the greatness of their crimes, 
are hurled into Tartarus, which is their suitable des- 
tiny, and they never come out." " Either death is 
a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or 
there is a change and migration of the soul from 
this world to another. Now, if you sxvppose that 
there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep 
of him who is undisturbed even by the sight of 
dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. But, if 
death is'the journey to another place, what good, O 
my friends and judges, can be greater than this? 
If, indeed, when the pilgrim arrives in the world 
below, he is delivered from the professors of jus- 
tice in this world, and finds the true judges who are 
said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadaman- 
thus and yEacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of 
God, who were righteous in their own life, that pil- 
grimage will be worth making. What would not a 
man give, if he might converse with Orpheus and 
Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be 
true, let me die again and again." 

This is the tide mark of ancient philosophy on 
the doctrine in question. 

Dropping now, for a few moments the line of his- 
torical investigation thus far pursued, let us examine 
some of the natural suggestions of immortality. 
The first of these comes from a study of the consti- 
tution of the soul. 

Monism or Dualism? Is there in the universe but 
one kind of substance, or are there two kinds of sub- 
stances? This question has 'crowded itself upon 
the attention of men in every generation. Some in 


every generation have believed that there is only 
one substance, and that that substance is matter. 
Some in every generation have believed that there 
is only one substance and that that substance is spir- 
it. But the vast majority, both of the learned and 
of the unlearned, have been confident that there are 
two substances, matter and spirit, each in its nature 
distinct from the other. According to this creed, 
these two substances are closely and mysteriously 
united in the earthly life of man. When that earthly 
life ends, what is the fate of the two substances? 
What becomes of the matter? What becomes of 
the spirit? The two evidently part company. In 
the article of death, the last manifestation of the 
spirit to the senses disappears. Then the material 
form gradually decays, and is lost sight of among 
the elements. Science teaches that not a particle is 
destroyed, but that every particle is put to use, in 
some of the various economies of nature. The body, 
as a body, is gone forever; but its component parts 
continue to exist eternally, in ever changing com- 

The spirit, however, eludes all the tests of physi- 
cal science. Does, then, death end all spiritual ex- 
istence? Such inquiries will not be hushed. They 
clamor importunately for an answer in every age. 
Many, even of those who have regarded matter and 
spirit as one, have recoiled from the thought of the 
utter extinction of the latter, and have maintained 
that, on the dissolution of body and soul, the spirit, 
in some mysterious way, associates itself with the 
less gross and .tangible material forms of earth, or 
air, or cloud, or fire. 

This was, more especially, the doctrine of ancient 


materialists. Modern materialists, under the lead- 
ership of such men as Bain, indulge less in such 
speculations. Take the following favorite defini- 

"There is one substance with two sets of proper- 
ties, two sides, the physical and the mental, a 
double-faced unity." Logically, such a definition, 
as a first principle, leads to the creed, that the earth- 
ly life of the soul is the limit of its existence. The 
materialist of to-day does usually manifest reluc- 
tance about putting the doctrine into dogmatic 
form, and takes refuge in an agnosticism, which is, 
however, very transparent. Every man does know, 
and, if he will give up all evasion and equivocation, 
he must acknowledge, that, if matter and spirit are 
nothing but a " two-faced unity, " after that unity is 
destroyed, nothing worthy of the name of existence 
can be properly predicated of spirit. There is no 
plausibility in any argument for the immortality of 
the soul, unless you condition it on the assumption 
of dualism, of the doctrine of two essentially differ- 
ent substances. 

But the granting of this postulate by no means 
establishes the doctrine. r ' It only removes you from 
ground where proof is impossible, to ground where 
proof is possible. It is not conceivable that the 
same substance can be and not be at the same time. 
When, however, the admission is made, that there 
are two substances distinct from each other, you 
can, without any inconsistency, claim that the de- 
struction of one does not necessitate the destruction 
of the other. But, whether the destruction of the 
one is, in fact, accompanied by the destruction of 
the other, is still an open question. To settle that 


question, neither mathematical demonstration, nor 
chemical tests, can be employed. The argument 
must be one of analogies and probabilities. You 
cannot be too cautious in choosing your analogies. 
A captivating analogy often leads to a conclusion 
not anticipated. For instance, it was a favorite 
idea with many of the ancients, that the relation of 
the spirit to the body, was like that of music to a 
musical instrument. At the first blush, the thought 
is very pleasing. But to what doctrine does it lead? 
When you destroy the instrument, do you not de- 
stroy the music? It is obvious that such an anal- 
ogy, if accepted, would be subversive of the doctrine 
of immortality. 

The instrument and the music are, at the first 
glance, seemingly so different, that you may sup- 
pose yourself in the presence of two substances, but 
closer inspection shows that you have before you 
only two different manifestations of the same sub- 
stance, one revealed through the sense of touch, the 
other through the sense of hearing. 

Now change the analogy thus: consider the re- 
lation of the spirit to the body like that of the mu- 
sician to the instrument. Then make the analysis, 
and you find two distinct factors. Destroy the mu- 
sician and the instrument may remain. Destroy the 
instrument and the musician may survive. 

Make another supposition: consider the relation 
of the spirit to the body like that of the musician to 
the music. You still have two things distinct in 
kind. Destroy the musician and the music is de- 
stroyed. But, in destroying the music, you may, or 
you may not destroy the musician. Everyone 
would consider this third analogy unsatisfactory. 


You feel that there is no propriety in saying that 
the body is the product of the spirit, as music is the 
product of the player or singer. Let us revert, then, 
to the second analogy. That cannot be made to go 
on all fours, still it is fairly satisfactory. Conscious- 
ness testifies that the spirit does use the body, as the 
violinist uses the violin, to accomplish certain pur- 
poses. In either case, the excellence of the instru- 
ment is essential to the excellence of the product. 
Spirit prizes a perfect organism, just as the violinist 
prizes a Cremona. Still, fine spirit may work won- 
ders with an unstrung organism, just as the skillful 
performer may astonish us on a cheap fiddle. An 
.artist will do better with a cheap fiddle, than a 
bungler with a Cremona. Moreover, in the case of 
the poorest performer with the poorest instrument, 
it is always the fiddler, and not the fiddle, that holds 
the bow. Spirit rules. Body is ruled. 

In a general way the parallel holds good. As we 
proceed, however, we must not lean too heavily upon 
any figure of speech. We know that the destruc- 
tion of the musician does not necessitate the destruc- 
tion of the instrument, and that the destruction of 
the instrument does not necessitate the destruction 
of the musician. Unquestionably, each may exist 
without the other. But can we say with equal cer- 
tainty, that the body can exist without the spirit, and 
that the spirit can exist without the body? We 
should trust analogy no further. At this point we 
must abandon rhetorical language. We first turn to 
experience for light. We see the musician de- 
stroyed, yet the instrument remains unharmed. But 
so soon as the spirit quits the body, we invariably 
find that the body begins to decay. We may say 


that, theoretically, this is not necessary, still, prac- 
tically, it always takes place, when nature has her 
way. It is conceivable, that the body might remain 
precisely the way it is, yet it never does. 

Again, we see the instrument destroyed, and the 
musician live on. But, when we see the body de- 
stroyed, we do not ever see the spirit live on. On 
the other hand, we never witness the dissolution of 
the spirit. We are here upon the border line of a 
different realm. We cannot declare with absolute 
certainty, either that the soul lives, or that it dies. 
Having, now, passed beyond the province of expe- 
rience, we must construct our argument of probabili- 
ties. The spirit may live on. Is it likely that it 
does live on? 

We find in every sound mind a passionate desire 
for immortality. How shall that desire be inter- 
preted? Is the desire a reasonable ground for the 
belief? No one would be so foolish, as to maintain 
that a desire is in itself conclusive proof of the real- 
ity of its object. Numerous instances might be 
cited in which individuals and even large bodies of 
men have cherished desires, which reached out after 
nothing but the most mocking delusions. But when 
you come to a desire which is universal, you . touch 
the vital chord which throbs eternally between the 
heart of man and the heart of the ever-living God, 
The pulsations may be quick, full, distinct, exultant, 
or they may be sluggish, thin, nerveless, despond- 
ent: but the current never ceases utterly between 
finite spirits here and the Infinite Spirit yonder. The 
legitimate and natural product is belief in immortality .. 
That belief may range from vague conjecture to 
clearest conviction; but some degree is found. 



whether you turn to barbarism, or civilization, 
whether you question the clown, the poet, or the 
philosopher. From the very nature of the human 
constitution, we are compelled to trust this uni- 
versal teaching of this universal desire. We have 
reached a fact beyond which we cannot go, and 
which it is the highest wisdom to accept with all its 

This belief is confirmed by several suggestions. 
It meets our sense of justice. If death ends all, our 
ideas of fairness are outraged. The earthly life of 
the wicked and the righteous arraigns the righteous- 
ness of God's government. The prosperity of the 
bad and the misfortune of the good have no solu- 
tion, unless there be a future life to rectify the evils 
of this. The Creator's present administration is 
subversive of every conception of right and wrong, 
if the soul perishes with the body. Yet these diffi- 
culties find easy solution in the glory of the ever- 
lasting. Of what consequence are the privations 
of the virtuous or the gratifications of the vicious, 
if the possibilities of seventy years be set over 
against the possibilities of eternity? 

But it is when we study the highest capacities and 
aspirations of the soul, that natural theology de- 
clares most clearly, that a benevolent Creator can 
not excite his creatures with such entrancing visions 
and then overwhelm them with despair. That is 
God's own voice, not articulate to a listening world, 
not committed to any Holy Scriptures to be read 
from generation to generation, but speaking to the 
heart of hearts, as a revelation direct and personal, 
whenever there open out before the soul the shining- 
possibilities of knowing and being and doing, world 


without end. There you reach the richest interpre- 
tation of the power of the everlasting life. Wher- 
ever, since the morning stars sang together, man or 
woman has asked the question, "WHAT is TRUTH?' 
and has patiently sought the answer, and has beaten 
against the bars of the earthy and has confronted 
the limits of time, the Comforter has whispered IM- 

Wherever man or woman has been profoundly 
moved to become strong, pure, beneficent, radiant 
in character; but from weakness and passion and sel- 
fishness and sordidness has been grievously disap- 
pointed in the result, and has been sorely tempted 
to abandon the ideal, the Comforter has whispered 

Wherever man or woman has caught the inspira- 
tion of service, and has longed to do something for 
the permanent well-being of self and of others, and 
.after unspeakable weariness and painfulness, has 
looked upon meager accomplishment, and has cried 
in bitterness, what doth it profit? Let me eat and 
drink for to-morrow I die! The Comforter has whis- 

But, not content with this whisper of the Infinite 
Spirit to the finite spirit, a compassionate God, 
manifesting himself in the flesh, proclaims aloud 
from the lips of Christ to all that have ears to hear: 
"I am the resurrection and the life. Because I live 
ye shall live also. In my Father's house are many 
mansions. I go to prepare a place for you. I will 
come again and receive you unto myself, that where 
I am there ye may be also, that where I am there 
ye may be also." 

Prepare us, Lord, for this Thy promised appearing. Some, 


3 2 3 

worn with the cares of life, may long to be transferred to activ- 
ities which are free from weariness and disappointments. 
May such more cheerfully obey the command: "Tarry pa- 
tiently till I come." Others cling eagerly to the present known, 
and shrink apprehensively from the future unknown. Confirm 
their faith so that they maybe able to say: "Though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: 
for thou art with me." Amen. 


Specialization is becoming year by year more 
narrow and inflexible, in all complex mechanical oc- 
cupations. The workman is increasingly restricted, 
in the scope of his activities. The shoe-maker no 
longer makes a shoe, the watch-maker no longer 
makes a watch. To-day, the former may fit a heel, 
or a sole, the latter may attach the three hands, but, 
to-morrow, the former will only cut out a piece for 
a heel or a sole, while the latter will be confined to 
the second-hand. Great factories, employing hun- 
dreds of operatives, are turning out thousands of 
shoes and watches. These articles are finer in quality 
and vastly more numerous in quantity, than could be 
produced when one man prepared, or at least ad- 
justed, all of the pieces in succession. On the score 
of economics, the new way is immensely superior to 
the old way. No one would for a moment advocate 
a return to the primitive method. It is true, that, 
while the world is so much the gainer, the individual 
workman is in one direction greatly the loser. He 
does get his proportion of the general benefit caused 
by a wide-spread division of labor, but he suffers 
from the dwarfing of his intellectual faculties, by 
their being withdrawn from a variety of planning and 
executing, and concentrated upon a single move- 
ment which presently becomes virtually automatic. 

* An Address delivered December 30th, 1891, by Dr. Tanner, 
as president of the College Branch of the State Teachers' 


The law of economics is deaf to his prayer for relief. 
The law of economics cares only for the quality and 
the quantity of the product. The law of economics 
is interested in the efficiency of the factory, and not 
in the condition of the operative. Such help as the 
latter gets must come from sociology, which steps in 
and says: "Let the hours be shortened during which 
the man or the woman is driven as a part of a great 
machine, so that the man or the woman may find, 
outside the factory, opportunities for mental as well 
as physical flexibility and refreshment." 

Now, corresponding with the specialization which 
is going on in the mechanical world, is the differenti- 
ation which is taking place in the educational world, 
though, in the latter, the movement is less rapid and 
the revolution less complete. This contrast also 
should be noticed: in the mechanical world, the 
specialization is more perfect in the higher depart- 
ments, while in the educational world the differenti- 
ation is more satisfactory in the lower departments. 

Let us see whether analysis will verify these 
statements. Begin with the kindergarten. Its prov- 
ince is sharply defined. It covers the narrow space 
between the nursery and the public school, and con- 
fines itself to the object lesson method. The nervous 
vitality and the rich personality of the. teacher are 
daily exhausted for the children. 

Advance a little and you come to the common 
school. Here the grades vary from four to eight, 
according to population, wealth and cultivation. 
Educators discovered long ago that it was a great 
waste of time and money, for the same teacher to try 
to carry pupils of all ages over the whole territory 
occupied by the English branches, and that the best 


results were reached where six or eight grades could 
be established with from thirty to forty pupils each, 
under a competent instructor. There is very little 
disposition -to mix these grades. The lower, instead 
of encroaching upon the province of the higher, seek 
to get better results within their own territory. The 
line of distribution may, therefore, be considered 
virtually established. 

Take, next, the high schools. Their boundaries 
are not so accurately marked out as those of the 
grammar schools, still their functions are becoming 
more and more clear. They have two offices one 
to fit students to enter college, the other to give 
creditable training in mathematics, science, English 
literature and one or two languages, ancient of mod- 
ern, to a large number of young men and women, 
who are unable or unwilling to pursue a college ed- 

The ideal location for a high school is in a city of 
from twenty to forty thousand inhabitants, for there 
it may be made supreme as an object of municipal 
affection and pride. Still, the high school will flourish 
in the largest cities, and it may be made to do ex- 
cellent service in towns of two or three thousand in- 
habitants. But this institution falls easily into one 
temptation. Patrons, pupils and teachers are prone 
to exaggerate its relative importance, and to try to 
create the impression that it virtually covers college 
territory. The merits of the high school are many 
and great, but it is preposterous to claim that it 
either does discharge or can discharge college func- 
tions. Its wisest friends will discourage all such 
false pretenses. 

In the domain of the secondary education, we first 


encounter the disposition to assume illegitimate pre- 

This tendency that we have noticed in the high 
school, is still more manifest in the academy. Some 
consider the academy superfluous, now that the high 
school is well established, but it is still an important 
part of our educational system. Let it, however, 
confine itself to its proper office. An academy should 
consider it glory enough, to be an academy, without 
trying to create the impression that it is virtually a 
college. You rejoice whenever you hear of the found- 
ing of a Christian academy, but, when its ambitious 
friends proceed to christen it as the Smith, or Jones, 
COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE, how can you help blushing 
for the honor of liberal learning? Such a misnomer 
leads the multitude to suppose that there is no line 
of distinction between the secondary and the higher 
education. It is a much greater honor to be an in- 
structor, or a pupil, in the John Doe Academy, than 
to be an instructor, or a pupil, in the John Doe 
COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE. Would that the average 
American citizen could realize that fact! Further- 
more, when an academy can have suitable buildings,, 
and equipments, and a strong corps of instructors, 
without connection with any college, that is unques- 
tionably the best arrangement, from the stand-point 
of the secondary education. Teachers will take 
greater interest in their work; 'pupils will feel more 
pride in the school; there will be less perplexity in 
discipline, because scholars are more nearly of the 
same age and attainments. In short, the institution 
will have an individuality and dignity impossible 
where the academy is an attachment to a college,. 


and conducted, primarily in the interests of the 

But, in this region at least, for many years most of 
our academies will be too weak to stand alone, and 
will have to be carried on in close connection with 
institutions of higher learning, chiefly as preparatory 
schools. They were established for that purpose 
mainly, and they must be so maintained, while nec- 
essary as recruiting stations for the colleges to which 
they respectively belong. Though this arrangement 
is theoretically faulty, it has some decided practical 
advantages. You who are present will testify, that 
the students who enter your college classes with the 
best preparation, are those whom you have trained 
in your own preparatory departments, and that, un- 
der existing conditions, it would seriously cripple 
your higher work, if those departments were abol- 
ished. It is fortunate for a boy to have his prelim- 
inary training under the same professors who are to 
be his guides throughout his undergraduate course. 
This promotes unity in plan and thoroughness in 
execution. The situation should not be irksome to 
a consecrated instructor, unless he finds himself so 
burdened with rudimentary drill that he has not 
sufficient energy for his duties as a college professor. 
That danger ought to be narrowly watched in the 
management of the institution. 

But, while we comfort ourselves thus, and submit 
to the inevitable with as good grace as possible, we 
need not forget that, as resources multiply and pop- 
ulation becomes more dense, it will in time be prac- 
ticable to separate the academy and the college, as 
the two are made independent in the Eastern and 
Middle states, and let them thus discharge their re- 


spective functions. It will be a happy day when 
both can be brought rigidly under the law of differ- 

I spoke a few moments ago of the foolish ambition 
of the academy to be considered a college, and of 
the damage done in that way to liberal learning. 
What, next, shall be said of the college which calls 
itself a university, though, from one year's end to 
another, it either gives no university instruction, or 
only the merest smattering thereof? The writer 
once served as the Latin professor in such an institu- 
tion. Creditable college work was done, but nothing 
more. Whenever our university was mentioned, these 
cheeks blushed at the misnomer. It may be replied, 
that such sensitiveness was foolish; that in calling 
men and women saints, we speak, not accurately, but 
prophetically; that the university title is usually be- 
stowed on account of the great expectations of the 
founders, who anticipate that, in the course of gen- 
erations, or centuries, the institution will in its pro- 
portions catch up with its high-sounding appellation, 
and that by giving the name in advance, the realiza- 
tion of the dream may in some way be quickened. 
But, is the justification sufficient; is the argument 
sound? Who does not admire the pertinacity with 
which Yale has clung to the modest words, Yale 
College, until the multiplication of her resources and 
the expansion of her activities have begun to make 
the university title appropriate? Who supposes that 
she would have reached that dignity any sooner, had 
she been called a university, from the beginning? 
Contrast what Amherst and Williams colleges are, 
and what a majority of our so-called universities in 
the Interior and the West are, and are likely to con 


tinue. Would it not be a sensible thing for the latter 
to petition the legislatures of the states to which 
they belong, to permit them to call themselves, for 
awhile, what they are colleges and to resume their 
present ad captandum appellation, when they begin 
to furnish, respectable facilities for graduate instruc- 
tion? Do not charge the writer with lunacy for 
making such a suggestion. He has not gone so far 
daft, as to suppose that the Solons of Illinois will at 
. the next session, be astounded by any such proposi- 
tion. "That strange spell, a name," has such power 
over, not only ordinary people, but also over extra- 
ordinary people, that we may well despair of ever 
seeing a so-called college get sufficient dying grace 
to become an academy, or a so-called university get 
sufficient dying grace to become a college, though, for 
the sake of common honesty, and for the honor of lib- 
eral learning, both consummations were devoutly to 
be wished. 

The law of differentiation is the law of progress 
in the higher education. Careful analysis separates 
the college idea from the university idea. The for- 
mer looks to the boy, the latter to the man. The 
former depends chiefly upon the recitation method, 
the latter upon the lecture method. The former ex- 
alts discipline, the latter exalts information. The 
former is the logical antecedent of the latter. Each 
will produce richer fruits when severed from the 
other. The best college work is done where the 
university idea is excluded. The best university 
work is done where the college idea is excluded. It 
is my belief that, in the future, Williams and Am- 
herst will furnish a more excellent quality of strictly 
college instruction than Yale and Harvard, simply 


because that is the highest ambition of the former, 
while the latter are captivated by the university idea. 
Moreover, it would be a happy change for the latter 
if they could henceforth discontinue their under- 
graduate departments, and devote their vast resources 
and noble material and intellectual facilities for in- 
struction to university extension, graduate courses, 
and the ever-multiplying and expanding realms of 
original research. The people would be the gainer, 
the institutions themselves would be better satisfied 
with what they were doing; and varied and profound 
scholarship would be more rapidly promoted. I ad- 
mit that such a separation could not be effected 
quickly. Undergraduate and graduate work have 
become as closely associated in those institutions, as 
preparatory and college work are in many of our small 
institutions in the interior. Still, in the course of time' 
such severance may be reached. We need in Amer- 
ica, as soon as possible, three or four pure universi- 
ties. At present, Clark University is the only one 
which adheres rigidly to graduate instruction and 
original research. Johns Hopkins is eager to reach 
the same liberty. She carries her undergraduate de- 
partment under protest. The consequence is, that 
she suffers in both directions, and it is probable that, 
at no distant date, the mixed relation at Baltimore 
will cease, and Johns Hopkins will rejoice in the real- 
ization of her ideal of a pure university. 

God speed the day ! Following this line of inves- 
tigation, I hazard the prediction that, ultimately, at 
Cambridge and New Haven, the university will ex- 
clude the college. 

Now, bring the subject nearer home. Differentia- 
tion has made fair progress in Illinois, but the time 


has come for its acceleration. The provinces of pri- 
mary, secondary and higher education should be more 
accurately bounded, and more generally recognized- 
Let the high school, the academy, the college, and 
the university seek clearer conceptions of their re- 
spective missions in the world of mind, magnify 
their own offices, confine themselves to those 
offices, and honor one another in the discharge 
of functions to which they can themselves make 
no legitimate claim. As representatives of the 
higher education, we owe to the primary schools, 
warmer sympathy and more fostering care. 

We ought to extend a more helping hand to all 
secondary schools. The exhibition of an apprecia- 
tive, co-operative spirit would give great weight to 
our suggestions concerning the limitations and the 
possibilities of our high schools and academies. 
Noblesse oblige! 

But have we not something to do besides try- 
ing 'to aid in fixing the boundaries of the primary 
and secondary schools, and to stimulate the latter to 
greater excellence ? 

Consistency requires that we should study more 
carefully the mission of the college and the mission 
of the university. We shall make our noblest con- 
tribution to liberal learning in the Prairie State, by 
holding before ourselves and our fellow-citizens the 
true ideal of the college and of the university, and 
by laboring patiently toward its realization in this 
dear commonwealth. 

What, now, is the situation within our borders? 
There are, with college or university names, twenty- 
five institutions supported by private benevolence.. 
Half of these are doing very creditable college 


work. Not one of them is, to-day, doing enough dis- 
tinctively university work to make the university 
title appropriate. Not more than three have suffi- 
cient income to support a strong university faculty, 
by which is meant a faculty of distinguished special- 
ists in the various departments of erudition. 

For the sake of clearness, let me separate all of the 
institutions outside of Chicago and its vicinity, from 
those in Chicago and its vicinity. Of the former, 
there is not one which has, or seems likely to have, 
in the near future, sufficient to sustain the eminent 
dignity of a genuine university. I believe that it 
would be better for every one of them, to devote it- 
self exclusively to college functions. I know that it 
would be better for the interests of the higher Chris- 
tian learning in the State of Illinois. This is deli- 
cate ground. This is plain talk. But those present 
are not afraid of delicate ground and of plain talk. 
Are not the facts as stated? Is not the position 

In conclusion, apply the law of differentiation to the 
three other institutions in Chicago and its vicinity. 
Two of these have had a most honorable history. 
Prophecy utters daily some new and glowing pre- 
diction over the cradle of the other. Now, what 
would be best for Chicago and the State of Illinois? 
Three pure universities? Or, three mixed colleges 
and universities? Or, two pure colleges and one pure 
university ? 

The law of differentiation answers unfalteringly: 

the minds of the wisest disinterested educators, the 
North-Western and Lake Forest have gained their 
reputation chiefly through the excellence of their 


merely college work, and not by annexing already 
established professional schools. The two are, as 
yet, essentially colleges. For the proof of this state- 
ment, devote a day to hard study of their catalogues 
for 1891. The speaker has no doubt that the finest 
possibilities for both would lie in concentrating 
their energies for the future on college work. The 
speaker has no doubt that the finest possibilities for 
Chicago University would lie in concentrating its 
energies, from the beginning, on university work. 
The genius of Lake Forest and the North-Western 
is the college genuis. The genius of Chicago Uni- 
versity is the university genius. 



The invitation to speak upon this topic came 
written upon the letter-head of an insurance com- 
pany. That fact, seemingly insignificant, suggested, 
however, the general outline of the paper now pre- 
sented. Said I to myself, the relation between the 
church and the college, is, in the common language 
of insurance circles, emphatically, a relation of 
"mutual benefit." 

I glanced again at the letter-head, and read this 
motto: -"We hold thee safe." Said I to myself, 
that is precisely the sentiment which the churches 
should cherish toward the college, and which the 
colleges should cherish toward the church : " We 
hold thee safe." 

Your attention is therefore invited, for twenty 
minutes, to these three particulars: mutual benefit, 
mutual danger and mutual security. 

First: as a matter of. history, what have the 
churches done for the colleges? But for the former, 
the latter would never have come into existence. 
Take a dozen typical examples, partly from the East 
and partly from the West. Within twenty years 
after the landing of the Pilgrims, the corner stone of 
Harvard was laid, with psalm and prayer, by those 
who "dreaded to leave an illiterate ministry to the 
churches, when their ministers should lie in the 
dust." Clergyman and layman vied with each 

*An Address before the Congregational Club of Chicago. 


other in Christian liberality. Rev. John Harvard 
gave his $4,000, and thus, though he had no such 
thought, secured for himself what is to-day the most 
conspicuous monument on the western continent. 
Then there was his humblier brother in the pulpit, 
who, having no money, sent two cows, as his college 
offering. And the lowing of the kine along the 
River Charles was like the lowing of the kine, as 
they drew the ark of God on the way to Beth- 

Or, again, you may read of the Christian farmer, 
who made his donation of $500, to be paid in corn 
and meal, but stipulated that the college should 
bear the cost of transportation, thus exhibiting that 
combination of other-worldliness and worldliness, 
which always gives the Yankee his supremacy con- 
cerning the temporal and the eternal. 

The charter of Harvard declares this to be the 
object of the institution: "The education of the 
English and Indian youth of the country in knowl- 
edge and godliness." The fervent missionary spirit 
of the enterprise is shown by the fact, that the first 
brick edifice, having rooms for twenty aborigines, 
was called Indian College. There Eliot's Indian 
Bible was printed. In the present controversy be- 
tween the " old" education and the "new," the jeal- 
ous Yale alumnus will subscribe to Cotton Mather's 
general declaration, that "the college was the best 
thing the forefathers ever thought of," but will re- 
strict the application to his own alma mater. 

Yale was abundantly blessed with the laying on of 
holy hands in her cradle. The republic had in those 
days her Magi, her wise men of worship in the East. 
Says Ridpath: " 'I give these books for the founding 


of a college in this colony.' Such were the words of 
ten ministers, who in the year 1700 assembled at the 
village of Branford, a few miles east of New Haven. 
Each of the worthy fathers deposited a few books 
on the table around which they were sitting ; such 
was the founding of Yale College." And why did 
they thus contribute out of their poverty? That 
there might be an institution for the training of 
their successors in the sacred office, so that the com- 
monwealth might never lack a learned and godly 
ministry. The spirit of the pastor became the spirit 
of the flock, until, from all the hills and valleys of 
Connecticut, the hard-earned savings of the men, 
the contributions of the widows, salt-cellars, spoons, 
plates, old pieces of silver and gold, precious from 
family associations, found their way into the treas- 
ury, to make a rich amalgam for the service of the 

Princeton owed its origin to the same profound 
conviction, that an able, wise and orthodox ministry 
could be provided for the churches, only through 
the Christian college. The doctrine of Nassau Hall 
thus finds expression from the lips of President 
Witherspoon, who was also one of the signers of the 
Declaration of Independence : " Cursed be all that 
learning that is contrary to the cross of Christ ; cursed 
be all that learning that is not coincident with the 
cross of Christ ; cursed be all that learning that is 
not subservient to the cross of Christ." In the life 
of Doctor Charles Hodge, you may find abundant 
and emphatic endorsement of these as the gov- 
erning principles of the institution, from the begin- 

As the eighteenth century opened with the found- 


ing of Yale, so it closed with the founding of Will- 
iams. Williams also was given by the churches for 
the churches. No other motive would have planted 
it among the bleak and rugged mountains of North- 
western Massachussetts. The men of that genera- ' 
tion seem to have been divinely impressed with the 
idea, that the part of Berkshire County, where noth- 
ing else would grow, would produce the richest 
annual crop of candidates for the Christian ministry. 

Read Professor Tyler's " History of Amherst," till 
you are brought into the presence of Jonathan Eel- 
wards, the genius of that region, facile princeps among 
the brethern. A '' charity fund" was the corner stone 
of the college. Said a speaker on the day of 
dedication : "This is an institution, in some respects 
like no other that ever rose, designed to bestow, 
gratis, a liberal education upon those who will enter 
the gospel ministry, but who are too indigent to de- 
fray the expense of their own induction. It has 
been founded and must rise by charity. And any 
man who shall bring a beam or a rock, who shall lay 
a stone or drive a nail, from love to the kingdom of 
Christ, shall not fail of his reward." 

And then the same enthusiam of humanity and 
Christianity swept westward and the churches gave 
to Ohio its Oberlin, and to Illinois its Illinois, and to 
Wisconsin its Beloit, and to Iowa its Iowa, and to 
Indiana its Wabash, and to Michigan its Olivet, and 
to Minnesota its Carleton and to Missouri its Drury. 
There are in this region other colleges equally 
worthy, but limited time compels me to bring in 
only the nearest states, and to let one college in each 
of those states stand for all. If you will examine 
the early records of any of these institutions, as I 


have done in more than one instance, you will find 
those documents fragrant of the Mayflower. The 
younger Pilgrims brought these colleges hither with 
them, just as the older Pilgrims brought those col- 
leges with them across the sea. 

Such has been the service of the American 
churches to the American colleges. What have the 
latter done for the former? Has the benefit been 
mutual ? 

From some cyclopedia or biography, I might 
bring before you an illustrious succession of college- 
bred laymen, who have thought out and ex- 
ecuted the noblest plans for the advancement of 
Christian civilization. From the annals of the pul- 
pit, I might make a long catalogue of shining names, 
which the colleges have given to the churches. I 
might take you to old Williams, the birthplace of 
foreign missions, and bid you listen to the testi- 
mony of President Hopkins, the greatest teacher of 
the century on this continent. 

But we need not go so far. Run the eye down the list 
of our own ministers in Illinois. Anticipate, in vision, 
the approaching meeting of the State Association. 
Many, possibly all of the colleges mentioned, and 
others, likewise, are represented by their alumni. 
Some of these are Christian laymen, trained in these 
Christian colleges, and given back to the churches 
to do the Master's work here, in this heart of the 
continent, with all its magnificent possibilities. 

Others, again, are professors in your theological 
seminary, and pastors of your churches; men at 
whose feet you love to sit, men who are honored 
throughout the commonwealth, and throughout the 


God forbid, that representing the learning called 
liberal, I should be so narrow in thought as to under- 
estimate the religious devotion, and the far-sighted 
benevolence of Christian laymen, who have got 
their education outside of college walls. God for- 
bid that I should speak except in thanksgiving, of 
the labors of the greater and the lesser evangelists 
who had no personal acquaintance with academy, and 
college and theological seminary At the same time, 
I submit it as a self-evident proposition, a proposi- 
tion which these self-taught laymen and evangelists 
will themselves subscribe to, that the wisest Chris- 
tian philanthropies, and the most beneficent Chris- 
tian organizations have sprung from the consecrated 
heart and the patiently disciplined intellect of the 
laymen and the ministers whom the colleges have 
prepared for the service of the churches. 

Second! Advance, now, from this idea of mutual 
benefit to the idea of mutual danger. The old bond 
between the churches and the colleges is growing 
weaker, and both are to blame for this increasing 
indifference. Waxing fat is acting upon some of our 
colleges, as waxing fat acted upon Jeshurun. They 
begin to look half contemptuously on their humble, 
Christian origin. Non-religious elements are find- 
ing their way into boards of trust. An ambition to 
multiply departments, to rear costly edifices and to 
make a grand parade of all the appliances of knowl- 
edge, is over-shadowing the profoundly religious 
spirit of an earlier period. In constituting faculties, 
the spiritual qualifications of candidates were once 
made primary, the intellectual, secondary; now the 
order is too often reversed. This sentiment filters 


down and flows in hidden channels through the 
minds of those who receive instruction. 

If you will compare the earlier with the later cat- 
alogues of our wealthier institutions, you will find 
the proportion of ministerial trustees greatly dimin- 
ished, unless, as in the case of Yale, the number was 
fixed in the original charter. Still more noticea- 
ble will be the lessened ratio of ministerial profess- 
ors; and, most of all, will you be impressed with 
the falling off of young men who are studying with 
the ministry in view. We have seen how promi- 
nent a part the idea of preparing students for a the- 
ological course, had in the founding of these institu- 
tions. It is obvious, that in proportion as that idea 
is obscured, the interest of the churches in the 
colleges will decline. 

What should the colleges do to check this ten- 
dency? While there is an advantage in having the 
pastors of the churches the trustees of colleges, 
since they are more likely than others to keep the 
institutions before the minds of their flocks, and 
since from their training they are more familiar 
with educational questions; still the functions of the 
trustees are essentially business functions, and, as 
the resources of the corporations increase, business 
men will become their natural guardians. But the 
colleges ought to pledge the churches, that boards 
of trust shall be composed entirely, or almost entire- 
ly, of wise and earnest Christian men. 

What, next, is the duty of such trustees to the 
churches in the appointment of instructors? A 
board of trust in a Christian college ought to make 
it an inflexible rule, never to elect to a professor- 


ship one whom they do not believe to be a genuine 
Christian. It is not essential, that a faculty should 
be largely made up of those taken from the minis- 
try. There are a few departments for which theo- 
logical and pastoral training is excellent prepara- 
tion. But the sciences are becoming so differentiated, 
division of intellectual labor is marking out so many 
separate provinces of investigation, that specialists 
must be sought more and more for chairs of instruc- 
tion. The churches ought to recognize this limita- 
tion in the range of choice, and ought to be satisfied, 
provided none but reverent, out-spoken Christian 
men be admitted to the college faculties. Since this 
is, and must be the situation, the churches cannot 
expect that within these institutions, as they grow 
older, so strong a pressure will be brought to bear 
upon students, to crowd them into the ministry, as 
was inevitable, when the ministerial professors out- 
numbered all others. 

College presidents and professors deeply deplore 
the present drift of their strongest men away from 
the theological seminaries and the ministry, the no- 
blest vocation on earth. Business, law, journalism 
and literature are attracting not a few who are called 
of God to preach the gospel. The general religious 
life of our institutions of higher learning is improv- 
ing. As a rule, the number of professing Chris- 
tians steadily increases. Still, nowhere do we dis- 
cover the old percentage of candidates for the min- 
istry. But we are laboring and praying for such a 
baptism of the Holy Ghost, such a manifestation of 
the constraining power of the love of Christ among 
our young men, that those brightest in intellect and 
purest in heart shall fill our theological seminaries 


to overflowing, to the joy of the churches and the 
glory of the Redeemer. 

But, while this tendency to separation between 
the colleges and the churches is due in part to the 
waning supremacy of the strictly ministerial idea in 
the former, and to the substitution of secular agen- 
cies, the churches have had their full share in pro- 
ducing this state of affairs. Frequent changes of 
pastorates prevent our ministers from becoming es- 
pecially interested in any particular college. In the 
days when a man accepted a call to a place where 
he expected to spend a large part of his life in the 
vicinity of an institution of learning, the welfare of 
the latter became identified with his own w.elfare 
and with that of his church. He was led to study 
the history of the college, to attend its examinations 
and public exercises, to pray for it, to speak of it 
in the pulpit, to talk about it in the parish and to 
urge the most promising young men of the congre- 
gation, to seek there a liberal education. 

Now, however, the average preacher, expecting to 
stay only two or three years in a place, forms no 
strong local attachments, lays no broad plans for 
work reaching through a long period, strikes for 
the quickest results within narrow limits, and gives 
no care, no thought to the college between which 
and himself a warm affection cannot be cultivated, 
on account of his brief residence in the neighbor- 
hood. If short pastorates are an evil to the churches, 
they are a great curse to the colleges. The devotion 
of ministers to colleges, which was the universal 
rule a century ago, is now a very rare exception' 
Long pastorates and permanent institutions natu- 
rally affiliate. But a ministry on wheels, with Jehu 



for a driver, cannot tarry long enough to form a 
loving relation with colleges, which patiently abide, 
and noiselessly perform their beneficent functions in 
the same place, generation after generation. Con- 
sequently, the preacher forgets to pray for the col- 
lege in the sanctuary, forgets to talk about it in the 
parish, and forgets to recommend it to the boys. 
Then the church forgets it in the prayer-meetings, 
forgets it at the family altar and forgets it in its 
schedule of benevolence. Then the associated pas- 
tors and churches forget it, in their plans for build- 
ing sanctuaries, and planting home mission stations 
on the frontier, and establishing foreign mission en- 
terprises in heathendom. And, then, at the fireside, 
in the temple and at local and general associations, 
your sons and mine, hearing less and less about a 
college education for the theological seminary, for 
the pulpit, for the service of the churches, for the 
salvation of the lost, for the crowning of the Christ 
as Lord of all, devote themselves to other occupa- 
tions and professions, till the on-coming 20th cen- 
tury cries in alarm, where, where shall be found men 
to preach the gospel to every creature, now that the 
world waits expectant for the King of Glory? 

This tendency to separation between the colleges 
and the churches imperils the best interests of both. 
The colleges will suffer more from it, at first, but 
the churches will finally be the greater losers. Self- 
preservation is the first law of nature, for an institu- 
tion, as well as for an individual. A college which 
finds that churches do not take sufficient interest in it,, 
to furnish it with the necessary money and students, 
will turn to a worldly constituency for support. It. 
will appeal to local pride and personal ambition. In 



filling its coffers and its classes, men will be brought 
into its board of trust and its faculty, without very 
careful inquiry into their religious character. A sec- 
ular tone will be given to the institution. Scholarly 
indifference will take the place of religious earnest- 
ness. The atmosphere of the corporation will chill 
devotion. A revival spirit will be stigmatized as 
fanatical, and conversions will cease. Such an insti- 
tution may get endowments and patronage, but it 
will no longer furnish to the churches consecrated 
men either for the pew or for the pulpit. 

Better things are possible, at least for the churches 
and the colleges of the Interior. Let there be, uni- 
versally, such a relation as that which Dr. Thwing, 
of Minneapolis, is fostering between the churches of 
Minnesota and Carleton College; let there be such 
a relation as the departed Dr. Goodell fostered be- 
tween the churches of Missouri and Drury College, 
and all are secure. The churches, providing endow- 
ments and students, will thus say unto the college: 
" We hold thee safe." And the colleges, giving back 
their young men trained for Christian service in pew 
and pulpit, will gratefully respond to the church; 
" We hold thee safe." 



Venus was a daughter of the sea. The graces 
formed her train. Earth and heaven were her home. 
Universal welcome greets the beautiful. 

Vulcan, Juno's son, but not her pride, was a crip- 
ple from his birth. Juno, with the temper of Byron's 
mother, called her boy a "lame brat," and drove 
him from her presence. He became a blacksmith, 
and set up his shop in the caverns of ^Etna. 

As he stook there one day beside the forge, in 
tripped Venus, gathering her drapery about her 
somewhat daintily; but she laid her white hand 
fearlessly upon his arm, bare and brawny; and 
the two were married, while the Cyclops gave them 
an anvil chorus, for a wedding march, 

The story contains a prophecy, which is even in 
process of fulfillment, as we sweep onward toward 
the millennium. In the perfect union of the useful 
and the beautiful, the highest ideal will find its reali- 

The most obvious application of the principle is 
found among what are considered the coarse arts. 
Notice the transformation which it works in agricul- 
ture. Put the plow of antiquity beside that of to- 
day. Study a moment the relation of service and 
grace. Mark how these have kept pace with each 
other. With every improvement in effectiveness, 
the inventor has sought to connect some new charm 


of outline, some fresh excellence of finish, to gratify 
the natural desire for symmetry of form and harmony 
of color. This may not enable the farmer to turn 
over any more acres, or to raise any more bushels 
of corn from the same area; but it does give a cer- 
tain zest to his labor, which he would not experience 
if no regard had been paid to his aesthetic nature, 
in the shape and ornamentation of the implement. 
In the most common-place toil, respect should be 
shown to those finer tastes, which are found, at least 
in a rudimental state, in every human being. But 
let it always be understood that in cases of this kind, 
utility is never to be sacrificed to beauty. The laws 
of mechanics are supreme. Friction and loss of 
power are too high a price for the mere gratification 
of fancy. Decoration which detracts from efficiency 
quickly becomes an abomination. When Vulcan is 
shaping the plow at the forge, let Venus watch in 
silence, so long as her lord is fixing the curvature 
which will save the strength of the horse and the 
strength of the man,, and leave the ground in the 
best condition for production. Up to that stage of 
the process, any suggestion from Venus is an im- 
pertinence. But the moment that point is reached, 
the old smith will be tickled, to have her lean over 
and whisper in his ear whatever she chooses, about 
those finishing touches which she knows will find 
favor in the eyes of the farmer boy, will awaken in 
him the dormant poetic sense, and pitch his voice 
to a song, as he follows in the furrow, while the 
meadow lark takes wing and the May morning is 

Suppose the next order to be for a wagon for the 
same rustic swain. Vulcan must make strength and 


durability of material, an'd lightness of draft, his-, 
prime factors in construction; but his grim face will 
relax with a smile, and he will become as docile as a 
child, if Venus will tell him, at the right instant, what 
pattern of springs and what style of trimmings would 
suit her, the next time he comes with Apollo's 
horses, to give her a drive along the beach of Pa- 
phos. According to Emerson, " the beautiful rests 
upon the foundation of the necessary." When r 
therefore, the essayist essayed to "hitch his wagon, 
to a star," must he not have guarded against all 
friction in the running gear, before he attended to 
the gilding of the driver's box? In dealing with so 
many horse-powers as inhere in a star, the strength 
of the traces should be tested first. The silver-plat- 
ing of the harness should follow. 

But, returning from these mythological and tran- 
scendental excursions, let us apply the doctrine to a 
motor better known. Bring locomotives from the 
round-house. First comes the switch-engine, in all 
its homeliness. It must hug the track, To this end 
its drivers are cut down. To tighten the grip upon 
the rails, wheels must be multiplied and weights 
increased. Cylinders are compact and powerful. 
Fire-box is hungry and capacious. When Vulcan 
turns out such jobs, Venus never goes near the shop.. 
They are the ugliest creations of his ugliest moods. 
This case admits of no relief. The mission of the 
machine is simply to move dead weight, at a dead- 
march pace, to and fro within narrow limits, with 
endless monotony. Everything suggests the dis- 
malest drudgery. Grimy iron monster, grimy engi- 
neer, grimy stoker look alike melancholy. Can you 
picture a more forlorn life, than that of two men 



who are doomed to run a switch engine? Better 
Siberian exile ! 

Turn now to the freight locomotive. The same 
general principles of construction prevail, but modi- 
fications are visible. The speed is quickened. The 
distances lengthen. The faces shorten. While the 
business is still very practical, while the greatest 
amount of work, with the strictest economy of 
forces, must remain the governing consideration, 
there appears a certain poetry of motion, as the long 
train seeks its destination. Engineer and fireman 
catch somewhat of the fresh spirit of the hills and 
valleys, the prairies and forests through which they 
pass. They take a certain pride in the gallant iron 
horse. To encourage the sentiment, some attention 
should be paid to ornament in' the building of the 
freight locomotive. Should this call for additional 
outlay and extra care, there will be more than a re- 
turn in the increased satisfaction which the engineer 
and fireman will feel in their charge, and in the 
effort which they will make to keep it constantly in 
the best condition. On the score of economy only, 
due regard to this idea would, in the course of years, 
be profitable to the railroad company. Let men be 
entrusted with something, which, in its construction, 
shows consideration for their finer instincts, and they 
will respond to the compliment, with increased 
fidelity and cheerfulness. 

The thought bears further enlargement, when you 
inspect the passenger engine. The business idea 
still controls, but, with the doubled and trebled speed, 
enters also the new element of gladness. The pas- 
senger engine should be among switch engines as 
Saul among his brethren. It should rise tall, well- 


proportioned, athletic, prepared as a strong man to 
run a. race. Vulcan wants all the inspiration of Venus, 
as he brings this his master-piece to perfection. Let 
it not leave his presence, until she pronounces it a 
thing of beauty. Then study the face of the man 
whose hand controls the throttle valve. How it 
lights up with affection, as he watches the graceful 
swing around a curve, the triumphant sweep toward 
a mountain's brow, and the arrowy flight down 
through the valley, while the burnished metal flashes 
in the sun like silver and gold! He does not talk 
about IT, but about HER. His hard tones grow mel- 
low, as if he were speaking of sweetheart or wife. 
While he thaws out, little by little, as you gain his 
confidence, and dwells fondly upon the various vir- 
tues of his darling, the stoker breaks in with HIS 
tribute to what SHE can do, and you see that her 
fiery heart is the altar at which both men worship. 
It is well. It is well for them. It dignifies their 
anxious, perilous life. They recognize the fitness of 
means to ends. They associate their agency with 
the admiration bestowed upon their favorite. 

Their office is magnified. Their calling is en- 
nobled. It is well for their employers. Property is 
safer. Those costly equipments, those polished or- 
- naments, all that finished elegance confided to their 
keeping, take them into a sort of partnership,, and 
make them cautious of needless waste and break- 
age. It is well for the traveling public. Such a 
spirit keeps the eye of the watcher intent upon the 
darkness, quickens the instinct of danger ahead, 
.nerves the arm, steadies the brain, prevents catas- 

Leaving, now, the engine in the care of her guard- 


ians, lusty and trusty, let us carry our theme back to 
the rear of the train, and continue our investigation 
there. Did you ever watch the building of a palace 
car? If not, spend your next half day of leisure at 
Pullman. Go alone. In those long lines of shops 
the whole process is displayed. It is a materialized 
panorama in wood and metal. Begin with the foun- 
dation of solid oak .and tempered steel, and study 
the stages of evolution, one by one, until the ideal is 
realized, and the palace stands ready for dedication. 
No other structure puts into visible, tangible form, 
so happy a combination of strength, grace and aes- 
thetic adaptation. This cannot be understood until 
you first make the analysis, then the synthesis, until 
you examine, one by one, the hundreds and hundreds 
of pieces of all sizes and shapes, and see them fitted 
ed to one another with amazing rapidity, precision 
and perfection. 

You may witness, in a rolling mill, some single 
process which will excite more astonishment than 
any single process which falls under the eye at 
Pullman, but in the case of the palace car the 
admiration is cumulative. Each bit of wood or 
metal adds something which you would not have 
thought of, of which you see the fitness, how- 
ever, as soon as it is employed. As part is joined 
to part, amazement grows with a mingled sense 
of gladness and oppression, until, like the queen 
of Sheba, in the presence of the wonders of Solo- 
mon, you find no more spirit in you. The effect 
is intensified from the fact that you are not 
viewing the structure as you would examine a puz- 
zle, or a piece of mechanism fabricated merely to 
show what marvels may be effected by the appli- 


cation of brain and muscle to material substances. 
The genius of the place is constantly filling your 
mind with suggestions of human security, profit, 
comfort, delight. Aladdin's palace was tenanted by 
creatures of the imagination; but Pullman's palace 
opens to those who have body, soul and spirit. 
Aladdin's palace was stationary; Pullman's palace, 
with no local fetters, now halts at the Grand Central 
of New York; and next week waits at San Fran- 
cisco's Golden Gate. It has transported across a 
continent, without anxiety, the eager financier; with- 
out pain, the invalid in quest of health; without 
weariness, the aged; with rejoicing, the bridegroom 
and bride. The congruity is faultless. The har- 
mony is perfect. Vulcan and Venus once more kiss 
each other. 

By way of reproach, this age is often called an 
age of iron, but the reproach is unwise. The cen- 
sure would be just, if quantity debased quality; but, 
in point of fact, the latter is constantly gaining upon 
the former. Invention must make every-day uses 
her first study; but she does not consent to place 
her work on exhibition, until she has rendered it fit 
for consecration to the graces. The greatest triumph 
of construction on this continent is the Brooklyn 
bridge. When you you consider the prodigious 
weight of coarse materials, you anticipate heavy ef- 
fects. But study the structure from the upper and 
lower ferry boats, steam up under it by moonlight, 
ride over it and walk over it at noon-tide, give it the 
most critical examination in every way, and the final 
impression will be aesthetic, rather than materialistic. 
If one has imbibed the notion that, in the ceaseless 
rattle of wheels and cogs and cranks, humanity is 


losing all finer perceptions, let him subscribe for a 
year to the Scientific American, and .make its pic- 
tures his object lessons, week after week. It would 
be well for us all, to read less machine poetry, and 
more poetry in machines. There is a poet's cor- 
ner in the Patent Office. Such is the artistic beauty 
of many inventions, that machine oil ceases to 
offend even the sensitive noses of the muses. 

But I am dwelling too long upon plows, and wag- 
ons, and engines, and cars, and bridges. Pass, -then, 
from the department of mechanics to that of archi- 
tecture, which evidently comes within the scope of 
the theme. This is decided by the criterion, that 
utility is still primary and beauty secondary. The 
history of architecture has been one long struggle 
to get these two elements properly adjusted. This 
is most strikingly illustrated in sacred architecture. 
Religion has always used her temples to influence 
her votaries, through the eye and through the ear. 
In the earlier stages of civilization, the sense of 
sight predominated. Scenic effects were sought. 
This idea ruled the ritual. It made music tributary to 
pageantry. It planned, in rearing churches, to move 
the soul through vision. This is manifest in the 
vividness of the Gothic style, and in the sense of 
vastness produced by the Italian style. The same 
impression was deepened by the frescoings and 
paintings of the interior. Imposing form and cap- 
tivating color were most happily combined, to sub- 
ject the heart to the imagination. Under modern 
civilization, the finer sense of hearing has been con- 
tending with the coarser sense of sight for the pri- 
macy. Religion seeks to govern, less by the eye, 
more by the ear. This new principle of utility intro- 


duces a new principle of beauty. Religion wants 
an auditorium. 

Whereas she once laid the stress upon the laws of 
optics she now lays the stress upon the laws of 
acoustics. But the former governed for so many 
centuries in the building of God's temples, that they 
struggle to retain the supremacy. The architect still 
consults the eye, rather than the ear. The secondary 
holds the place of the primary, the primary the place 
of the secondary. Improvements have been made 
within a generation, but religion will suffer until this 
is the universal law of the temple first, a perfect 
auditorium; then, if possible, a perfect picture. 

Next apply the principle to the old house at home, 
and to the new house at home. The two should not 
be alike. Changed conditions greatly modify rules 
of construction. In building the former, stability, 
shelter and protection were the governing ideas. A 
fresh clearing in the wilderness is the natural setting 
for a log house, a structure within which there is 
an assurance of security, when wolves howl and 
savages prowl. The second generation does not 
shut itself up so closely. The rafters are lengthened, 
the floors are extended, and thus is made the stoop, 
where the woman turns the spinning wheel in the 
shade, and the man smokes his pipe when the day's, 
work is done. It is all very homely; but, remember 
that homely is a contraction of home-like. The pic- 
turesque now begins to steal into the dwelling. There 
is a melodeon in the front room, and a girl who plays 
and sings to the bewilderment of an enamored youth, 
who is in a "strait betwixt two,"- his bashfulness 
about leaving the farther side of the fire-place, and 
his burning desire for a seat close to the melodeon. 


It all accords with the eternal fitness of things. 
Every woman envies the girl. Every man wishes 
that he were the youth, in transit from the chimney 

And so we come to these later days, with their 
multiplied physical comforts and aesthetic gratifica- 
tions. There is danger that in building the new 
house at home, a straining after artistic effect will 
encroach upon those plain conveniences so essential 
to the happiness of the family. After we have de- 
cided how much money we can put into a dwelling, 
instead of first carefully maturing a plan which will 
contribute most to the well-being of the household, 
and making mere ornamentation a subordinate con- 
sideration, we are prone to turn the matter over to 
the architect, bidding him give us the most pictur- 
esque abode possible for the amount specified. The 
architect is always tempted to take his stand-point 
from the street, rather than from the fireside. The 
hearth-stone, however, should be the foundation for 
the ruling idea in building. The special wants of 
every member of the domestic circle should be 
heeded, before attention should be paid to the de- 
light of the passers by. Enough will be done for 
them, incidentally, in that provision which must be 
made for such aesthetic training as is necessary for 
the highest well-being of those who are to occupy 
the dwelling. The impression made by many of our 
pretentious modern houses is, that more study has 
been given to produce external effects than to secure 
such internal arrangements as shall cause "home, 
sweet home" to be the spontaneous song of the 
whole household. The American people should be- 
ware, lest, in architecture, they let the startling and 


the fanciful encroach upon the fundamentally useful, 
and mar the truly beautiful. 

There is a rhetorician's dictum which will serve as 
a golden link to connect the preceding and the re- 
maining portions of this discussion. It reads: "DEC- 

Here the transition is easy from material to social, 
spiritual and educational forms. The plea has been 
thus far for the natural and harmonious union of 
Vulcan and Venus, strength and beauty, in those 
tangible creations which mark the progress of civil- 
ization. This is, also, the open secret of the best so- 
ciety, the morality of the Pilgrim wedded to the 
manners of the Cavalier, Plymouth Rock in the 
blushing embrace of the Virginia Creeper! The two 
essential elements are present. What they need is 
happy fusion. The ideal slowly approaches realiza- 
tion, notwithstanding the lamentations of the pessi- 
mist. Clannishness and exclusiveness are disappear- 
ing with the dying century. Society improves by 
growing composite. That which is best in England 
came from the blending of the Saxon and the Nor- 
man. In the process, each retained its peculiar ex- 
cellencies and lost only its peculiar defects. Maine 
and Mississippi, acting rightly upon each other, 
would give a resultant nobler than either of the orig- 
inal forces. Catholicity of vision is the first principle 
of social science. Unity through diversity is the great 
law of creation. 

But you notice that the Author of the Universe 
sanctions the principle which is advocated through- 
out this address. He never constructs decoration, 
but always decorates construction. He first lays out 


mountains, valleys and water-courses for the every 
day wants of mankind, and then bids nature array 
herself in loveliness. This ought to be our model in 
building the social fabric. Let industry, economy, 
integrity and virtue be inculcated first and foremost,, 
as the only abiding foundations, then welcome all 
those amenities and accomplishments which give 
sweetness and inspiration to life. Listen to Carlyle,. 
as he ridicules sham and glorifies work; but give 
heed also to Ruskin, as he pleads for symmetry and 
grace. Elijah and Elisha both have their mission to 
men. The truth ruggedly declared by the one to- 
day, is more persuasive when mildly uttered by the 
other to-morrow. Every generation is, in its condi- 
tions, more fortunate than its predecessor. It has 
more leisure, and greater facilities for perfecting its 
inheritance. Two classes of reformers incessantly 
struggle for leadership. One is composed of those 
who exalt rigor, austerity and repulsiveness, as proofs 
of excellence. In their philosophy, an angle is better 
than a curve, and the acutest angle is the best angle, 
because it makes the sharpest wedge, the one which 
can be driven in easiest and farthest. A cube is su- 
perior to a sphere, on account of its cutting edges. 
John's harsh voice in the wilderness has greater fas- 
cination than Christ's gentle voice in the temple. 

But read God's lesson in nature. Give vision the 
widest sweep. Your limits are the horizon and the 
firmament. The one is circular and the other is semi- 
spherical. By these boundaries, the Creator ex- 
presses his aversion to the angular and his love for 
the curvilinear. On the surface of the planet, sharp 
edges are the result of convulsion. Chemical agency 
is straitway summoned to round those edges into 


curves. Throughout the inorganic realm there is a 
tendency to destroy cutting power. In volcanic 
action, the fluidity of the lava tones down the preci- 
pice and fills the chasm. Afterwards, air and light 
and frost and heat and water assume and carry on this 
ministry. In the case of any almost extinct burning 
mountain, like Hood or Shasta, you will notice how 
eager nature is to throw a robe of vegetation over 
the rents and breaks of the base, and to hide the 
jagged cliffs under a graceful mantle of snow. Ex- 
pose any material shape to the elements, and the 
latter will forthwith attack its edges and try to take 
out the "cut." 

Again, all the bays and inlets of ocean are sinuous, 
not angular. Notice the sand dunes. They follow 
the same pattern. And, if you retreat far inland, you 
will find that the WAVE STYLE is still the favorite, and 
is adopted or imitated as far as is consistent with the 

Once more, abandoning land and water, you dis- 
cover a similar preference in the aerial region. 
Lightning does zig-zag, but light UNDULATES. Light- 
ning is exceptional; light is universal. Sound also 
WAVES. The discharge of a cannon is explosive. 
You may at first think of the acoustic effect as sim- 
ilar to that produced by the flying fragments of a 
shell; but, as you listen to the dying reverberations, 
you are convinced that the movement is undulatory. 
Pass next to organic forms. The grass at your feet 
springs up in blades, and you say that this destroys 
the generalization; here is the point, here is the edge 
and here is the angle. But be patient. Look toward 
the root of that blade of grass. The stem is assum- 
ing the circular form, and whether it be timothy, or 


blue-grass, or clover, the full-grown stalk will be 
tubular and will wear a rounded crown. Somehow 
the tree never exhibits a square trunk. When it 
throws off branches, they also are round, the angle 
of departure is curved, and the limbs and leaves all 
contribute to break rigid effects. Now, if you will 
examine the whole vegetable kingdom, you will find 
this constant protest against angularity. Landscape 
gardening, as you would expect, conforms itself to 
the principle of the curve. Landscape painting like- 
wise acknowledges the reign of the same law. Other- 
wise, as imitative arts, they would commit suicide. 
Such considerations justify the conclusion that 
nature finds in the curvilinear her prime secret of 

But the doctrine may be perverted in human na- 
ture. For instance, many consider the spinal col- 
umn a most uncomfortable formation. They would 
substitute gristle for bone, to insure flexibility. Mus- 
cle and sinew must simmer down into jelly. Pulp is 
the ideal substance. Such people dote upon the sen- 
suous, the artificial, the meretricious. Their choic- 
est product is of the Oscar and sunflower variety. 
Join neither school, but take a suggestion from both. 
Each is a protest against the other. As is usual be- 
tween two extremes, society will find its golden 
mean in the union of the rugged and the gracious. 
Such, likewise, is the law of the spiritual world. 
Moral strength and moral beauty happily combined 
bring character to perfection. You mark a tendency 
to divorce the two in ethical conceptions. The old 
theology and the new furnish a background for 
these notions. The first will hear nothing but the 
thunders of Sinai. The second will see nothing but 


the sunshine of the Mount of Beatitudes. Man's 
idea of God forms his ideal for himself. As a con- 
sequence, two hostile factions seek disciples. In 
church history, Luther best represents the one, 
Erasmus the other. Miniature likenesses every- 
where abound. Excessive admiration of the heroic 
virtues hallows a dogmatism and intolerance, which 
peculiarities of temperament, time and circumstance 
once connected with some individual, or class of in- 
dividuals. Because Plato happened to be round- 
shouldered, not a few of his admirers become like 
him as high as the base of the neck, but no higher.. 
As in philosophy, so in religion, excrescences take 
the place of excellencies, because they are easier 
of cultivation. In Switzerland, even the goitre 
in all its unsightliness is fashionable. What wonder, 
then, that the church, with her vigorous Genevan 
constitution, should develop some strange beauty 

The Reformers, the Covenanters and the Puritans 
were the great benefactors of the race. Their religious 
earnestness, inflexibility and heroism deserve the ad- 
miration of mankind. Still, certain surface traits,, 
pardonable centuries ago, are not worthy of imita- 
tion by this generation. And yet those very traits 
are the ones which many are the most tempted to 
copy as moral perfections. The worship of rugged- 
ness of character in the sixteenth century, may thus 
result in jaggedness of character in the nine- 
teenth century. But there is the other extreme. 
Many so magnify the burning of a Servetus, and the 
fanatical folly of the Salem tragedies, that they lose 
sight of the grandeur of the Reformation in the Old 
World, and the heroic conquest of the New World, 


by the same over-mastering religious enthusiasm. 
Such blot out the text: "God is a consuming fire," 
and read only that other verse : " God is love." 
This moral estimate of the Creator is transferred to 
the creature, and those traits which harmonize with 
the estimate are unduly exalted. The product is 
the religious sentimentalist, who, finding in his vo- 
cabulary no such words as justice, judgment and 
penalty, grows self-indulgent, infirm in purpose, im- 
potent in action. But the two elements of robust- 
ness and winsomeness, each in itself insufficient, 
when rightly combined, produce that rarest of 
earthly sights, a character which is commanding and 
attractive, an honor to men, an admiration to angels, 
a delight to Jehovah. 

The educational application of the doctrine is of 
the highest importance, upon the present occasion. 
Not a few advocate only the baldly practical in our 
courses of study. Let the Popular Science Monthly 
recast the curricula, and nothing would be left to 
develop and to gratify the strictly literary sense. 
Give radical Hellenists the same liberty, and they 
would retaliate, by crowding out the bread-and- 
butter branches, with digammas and iota subscripts. 
It is an open question, which party displays the 
narrower narrowness. We shall have no truly liber- 
al education, until this antagonism is pacified by 
compromise. Facts and formulae are essential; so, 
likewise are logic and language, in every wise 
scheme of instruction. Room must be made for all. 
It is not well to follow blindly either the apostles of 
the Old education, or the apostles of the New Edu- 
cation. The former are too conservative, the latter 
too destructive . It is a sign of senility, when one 


sings only of the good old ways. It is a sign of ju- 
venility, when one can pipe of nothing but the good 
new ways. There is an eclectic and creative process 
going on, which will give us, first, a better way and, 
finally, the best way. 

Whether it be a mere fancy, or not, physiologi- 
cally, it is a plain fact psychologically, that every 
brain of man or woman has both a masculine and a 
feminine lobe. Both lobes in both sexes need prop- 
er food and exercise. The general theory has been, 
that the great effort should center in making the mas- 
culine lobe more masculine for men, and the femi- 
nine lobe more feminine for woman. But, accord- 
ing to the induction of this address, the mental 
training of the future should pay more atten- 
tion to the feminine lobe for man and to the 
masculine lobe for woman. It is high time for 
the world to recover from the chronic scare about 
feminine men and masculine women. This has led 
us to under-estimate belles-lettres studies in the 
training of our boys, and to ever-estimate the lighter 
accomplishments in the training of our girls. The 
New Education for woman is moving in the right 
direction more rapidly than the New Education for 
man. Hazlitt says that Raphael cared for nothing 
but the human form, and that whenever you look 
at the hands of the women that he painted, you 
want to TOUCH them, In studying the flesh color of 
a Titian, the LIPS are attracted. 

The Raphaelite in form and the Titianic in color 
are combining in the education of the sex. Long- 
fellow's prophecy is coming true: 

"A woman with a LAMP shall stand, 
In the great history of the land, 
A noble type of good. " 


Her education may assume the largest propor- 
tions, with no loss of beauty. It is, however, neces- 
sary that angularity be avoided. This culture should 
be well rounded and its complexion fair. 

The change in public sentiment on the question 
has been so noiseless, that we fail to realize how 
mighty has been the revolution,throughout the Anglo 
Saxon race. Contrast the doctrine of the eighteenth 
century with the doctrine of the nineteenth century.. 
Knight, in his History of England, quotes from 
Dean Swift as follows: "There is a subject of con- 
troversy which I have frequently met with in mixed 
and select companies of both sexes, and some- 
times only of men, whether it be prudent to 
choose a wife who has good natural sense, some 
taste of wit and humor, able to read and relish his- 
tory, books of travel, moral or entertaining dis- 
courses, and be a tolerable judge of the beauties of 
poetry. This question is usually determined in the 
negative by women themselves, and almost univer- 
sally by men." 

There is no mistaking that in those days Burke's 
criterion of SMALLNESS was the sole test of woman's 
intellectual beauty. But, in accordance with the 
doctrine maintained this evening, without taking 
time to consider the light belles-lettres elements 
mentioned by Swift, as the utmost conceivable 
bounds of woman's mental attainments, I ask you 
to open the catalogue of Yale University, and to 
point out, a single study in the o academic course 
which would produce angularity, a single study in 
the academic course which would not round out 
woman's intellectual form with lines of beauty. 
While, however, this position is resolutely de- 


fended, it is as readily conceded that intellectual 
color is more indispensable in woman than in man, 
and that, while equal time and opportunity for liberal 
culture should be given to both sexes, there should be 
certain substitutions in favor of female accomplish- 
ments. In other words, the relatively greater im- 
portance of color ought so far to modify form. 
Consequently, the curriculum of a Wellesley would 
be preferable to the curriculum of a Yale. It is my 
belief that, when the proper additions and subtrac- 
tions have been made for each curriculum, when the 
sundry options have been adjusted between mathe- 
matics and science on the one side, and music and 
art on the other, the two curricula will be found in 
substantial accord, and will lead to the same degree 
for both sexes. The evolution of this idea does not 
necessarily involve the question of co-education. 
New England prefers to supply a Williams College 
for her young men, and a Smith College for her 
young women. The Interior favors the same insti- 
tution for both. But each section is equally in 



This study may be made from the stand-point of 
speculative philosophy, or from the stand-point of 
moral philosophy. Each method has its peculiar 
advantages and disadvantages. The former is more 
satisfactory to a limited number. It promises light 
without heat the form of illumination especially 
fascinating to a contemplative spirit. But the ma- 
jority of even well-educated men and women, after 
sustaining themselves for a few moments in a state 
of semi-apprehensive eagerness, grow weary of ab- 
stract discussion. The other style of treatment de- 
scends more easily from generals to particulars, and 
returns so often to the concrete that the strain of at- 
tention is relaxed, and the listener, instead of being 
constantly tantalized by some vanishing idea, lays 
hold upon the thought with gratified self-love. The 
few, however, who have had special training in dia- 
lectics, will always look down upon this method as a 
virtual admission of a lack of the highest intellectual 
power. Nevertheless, let practical ethics, rather 
than abstruse speculation, guide the writing of this 

Definition should be made at the outset, to prevent 
confusion. The meaning of four words ought to be 
rendered clear to mental vision. These words are 
sentiment, sentimentalism, reality and realism. Senti- 
ment proper is always excellent. Sentimentalism is 
the perversion of sentiment. Reality is sometimes 

*An address before the "American Akademe." 


excellent and sometimes the opposite. When reality 
is excellent, realism is the .exaltation of repulsive- 
ness. Of course realism in this essay has nothing of 
the old scholastic sense, which made it a synonym 
for idealism, and opposed it to nominalism and con- 
ceptualism. We are now confining ourselves to the 
term as it is popularly used in art and literature. 
Sentiment .affiliates with reality and realism, when 
they are good. Sentimentalism affiliates with reality 
and realism, when they are bad. Sentiment is alike 
at home in the realm of fancy and the realm of fact. 
Sentiment is the happy product of imagination tem- 
pered by emotion. 

The best examples are found in poetry. Listen to 
a dozen lines read on the celebration of Longfellow's 

"A soft-breasted bird from the sea 

Fell in love with the light-house flame, 

And it wheeled round the tower on its airiest wing, 

And floated and cried like a love-lorn thing: 

It brooded all day, and fluttered all night, 

But could win no look from the steadfast light, 

For the flame hid its heart afar 

Afar with the ships at sea. 

It was thinking of children and waiting wives, 

And darkness and danger to sailors' lives. 

But the bird had its tender bosom pressed 

On the glass, where at last it dashed its breast. 

The light only flickered, the brighter to glow, 


This is a fine illustration of sentiment in the realm 
of fancy. No one will question its immaculate 

Two phases of sentiment in the realm of fact are 
well brought out in The Cotters Saturday Night. For 
each I quote a specimen stanza: 


"Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; 

A strappih' youth; he taks the mother's eye: 
Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father cracks of horses, pleughs and kye; 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 

But blate and lathefu', scarce can weel behave. 
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 

What makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave: 
Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave." 

"Then kneeling down to heaven's eternal King, 

The saint, the father and the husband prays, 
{'Hope springs exultant on triumphant wing,') 

That thus they all shall meet in future days, 
There ever bask in uncreated rays, 

No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear; 
Together hymning their Creator's praise, 

In such society, yet still more dear; 
While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. 

These two stanzas, besides exhibiting domestic 
and religious sentiment, so combine sentiment with 
reality, that they give you an admirable embodi- 
ment of praiseworthy realism. 

Now, it is the mission of sentiment to make 
thought and experience glow with warmth and 
brightness and beauty. If we will keep this idea 
steadily before us, we shall never be disturbed by 
the sneering remark which is often heard: "Nothing 
but sentiment, nothing but sentiment." 

But when sentiment ceases to be a means towards 
a higher end, when it becomes an end in itself, when 
it is cultivated for its own sake, it degenerates into 
sentimentalism, and the one who indulges in it is 
properly stigmatized as a sentimentalist. There are 
various grades, but the lowest of these is the one 
where artificial sensibilities are made the screen for 
shameful immoralities. 


Among the poets who confine sentiment to its le- 
gitimate office should be classed Keats, Wordsworth, 
Tennyson and Longfellow. Tupper is a sentiment- 
alist, but criticism dismisses him with no severer ver- 
dict than, "affected and harmless." The sentiment- 
alism of Moore, Shelley and Byron, is seductive and 
vicious. This malady expresses' itself more naturally 
in prose than in verse, and the typical sentimentalists 
are found among prose-writers. They are not con- 
fined to any nationality. 

Germany, England and France have furnished the 
largest niftnber, and France may be considered the 
most natural home of sentimentalism. With it her lit- 
erature is thoroughly saturated. It vitiates much that 
would be admirable in such men as Lamartine, Mich- 
elet, and Victor Hugo. They become the prey of an 
egotism which sets them to attitudinizing before the 
world. They attach an exaggerated importance to 
their own sayings and doings. They crowd their 
opinions and fancied services upon the notice of the 
public; and, then, if the public will not take them at 
their own estimate, they are overwhelmed with cha- 
grin, and weary mankind with their reproaches. Fine 
sentiments take the place of fine actions. The na- 
tional taste becomes vitiated. Home-life grows ar- 
tificial and corrupt. Seeming is exalted above 

Rousseau, though born in Switzerland, \vas of 
French origin, lived in France, and was the incarna- 
tion of French sentimentalism. His father is de- 
scribed as one of those men who always enjoy incon- 
solable sorrow. The boy inherited the same dispo- 
sition, and it was the fashion with sire and son to sit 
down together, and deliberately work each other up 


to a high pitch of delectable grief. One trained to 
such an exaltation of the fictitious, naturally became 
an accomplished cheat and an unblushing liar. But, 
whenever he had betrayed a friend, he was wont to 
betake himself to some place of retirement, and 
there indulge in a spasm of remorseful feel- 
ing, to quiet his conscience for not confessing his 
crime and making restitution to the person who had 
been wronged. You may hear him expressing his 
fervent desire to protect his benefactress from the 
dishonesty of others, and see him, the next moment, 
appropriating her property without any compunc- 
tions of conscience, on the ground that, if she must 
be robbed, he was entitled to the largest share of the 
plunder. In the same connection, he takes pains 
thus to assure the world that he prays daily: " Not 
by a vain stammering of the lips, but a sincere, ele- 
vation of the heart to the Author of lovely nature, 
whose beauties were spread out before my eyes. I 
never like to pray in a room; it seems as if the walls 
and the little workmanship of man interposed be- 
tween God and myself." 

A biographer thus describes him during those 
happy days at Charmettes: " His fine-strung nature 
was sensitive to all things tender; the far-off sound 
of bells, the cooing of turtle-doves, all touched him 
to tears, he could not tell why. Fondly he loved 
this sweet idleness to bask in the sun, or to loiter 
in the shadows of the chestnuts, to gaze for 
hours on the lovely scenery of the floating 
clouds, to listen to the songs of birds or to 
the murmur of the stream over its pebbly bed, ever 
in delicious reverie, and in simple enjoyment of the 
passing hour, with no thought, no care of the mor- 


row." In the midst of such scenes, Rousseau de- 
clares that he was one day overcome with the terrors 
of hell; which he quieted forever as follows : " I 
said to myself: 'I will throw this stone at the tree 
opposite; if I hit it, that will be a sign of salvation; 
if I miss it, that will be a sign of damnation.' As I 
said this, I threw a stone with a trembling hand and 
a terrible beating of the heart, but so .happily that 
it struck the middle of the tree, which was not a very 
difficult feat, . as I had chosen one very thick and 
very near. Since then I have never doubted of my 

In the next view that we get of our sentimentalist, 
after this unique settlement of the question of his 
eternal destiny, he is engaged in one of the disrepu- 
table love-affairs in which his life abounds. After 
his nominal marriage, this remarkable father sends 
his five children to the foundling hospital, because 
the expense of their maintenance would be perplex- 
ing, and because their presence would disturb the 
quiet of his reflections. But thus he appeals to the 
world: "Pity me, for I am childless. I can not 
taste the sweetness of a father's embrace. Had I 
had less concern for what might have become of my 
children, I should have left them to their mother, 
who would have spoiled them, and to her family, who 
would have made them monsters." 

And yet, this man, who cast out of his own house 
his helpless offspring, simply because they would 
cry, and cost money, and interrupt his reveries, be- 
took himself to seclusion, and there wrote so beauti- 
fully and so persuasively concerning the duties of 
motherhood, that he revolutionized the public senti- 
ment of France, and had the giddy women of the 


37 1 

giddiest nation on earth sitting humbly at his feet, 
and eagerly inquiring how they should train their 
boys and girls. Moreover, from the same seclusion, 
on which no child of his own was ever permitted to 
intrude, he gave to the world those first principles of 
primary education, which were afterward borrowed 
and made popular by Pestalozzi and Froebel, and 
which have become the inspiration of the most ag- 
gressive common-school work of this generation. 

A similar inconsistency between practice and 
doctrine is noticeable in all directions. He assails 
the artificial literary work of the period, but makes 
his own reputation by cultivating a style still more 

Passionately fond of the adulation of the corrupt 
court of Louis XV, and kept from kindred 
immoralities by nothing but lack of opportunity, he 
sought his compensation by attacking the vices of 
society in a style so charming, that he was eagerly 
read and graciously forgiven by those whom he as- 
sailed. Enamored of aristocracy, but hating it 
bitterly because he felt so ill at ease within its 
charmed circle, he became the zealous apostle of 
democracy, and formulated those doctrines concern- 
ing the rights of man, which captivated Thomas 
Jefferson, and found their noblest embodiment in the 
Declaration of American Independence. 

But, since Rousseauism, which is an exact synonym 
for sentimentalism, contributed so much toward the 
advancement of civilization, should we not seek to 
forget the vices of its author, which are revealed in 
his Confessions, and remember only his genius for 
literary form, his inimitable skill in clothing moral 
putrefaction with garments angelic, and at the same 


time his paradoxical advocacy of what is essential to 
the integrity of the individual, the purity of home 
and the well-being of society? Such is the dictum of 
a popular school of criticism. To this school natur- 
ally belong those who desire to live free from moral 
restraint, and who seek the most specious excuses 
for their transgressions. But we are surprised to find 
sustaining the same view not a few who are pure in 
life, and who would not seem likely to be carried 
away with a doctrine so pernicious. 

In reading a magazine article, your eye catches 
such sentences as these: "Art has nothing to do 
directly with morality or immorality." "The nude in 
art has rendered holy the beauty of woman." "Every 
Greek statue pleads for mothers and sisters." " The 
Venus de Milo is a melody in marble. All the lines 
meet in a kind of a voluptuous and glad content. 
The eyes are filled with thoughts of love. The breast 
seems dreaming of a child. Genius is the spirit of 
abandon. It is joyous, irresponsible. It moves in the 
swell and curve of billows. It is careless of conduct 
and consequences." You turn to the name at the 
bottom of the article, and simply say to yourself: "Of 


But it is a matter of wonder, when a critic like 
Matthew Arnold bewails the fact that his ideal 
Shelley has been forever ruined by the real Shelley 
depicted in the recent biography by Professor Dow- 
den. All the world ought to knoiu the moral life of genius. 
That is the only adequate protection against the 
wide-spread, contaminating influence of the prosti- 
tution of the noblest faculties. Genius is responsible. 
It has no business to be careless of conduct and con- 
sequences. We grapple here with the fundamental 


.heresy of sentimentalism. Genius is not required to 
become either a New-Testament exhorter, or a pro- 
fessor of didactic theology. It has a wider field; 
still that field is not boundless. Genius is under the 
most solemn obligations not to outrage the moral 
sense of mankind in its own generation. Genius can 
not escape either the letter or the spirit of the Seventh 

Notwithstanding all the beautiful things which 
Rousseau wrote concerning God and Christ and 
prayer and devotion and virtue and chastity and 
home and liberty and equality and universal brother- 
hood, the influence of his life and of his writings, 
like the influence of the life and writings of every 
other sentimentalist, must always be pestiferous. 

That influence extended from France to Germany. 
Goethe came under the spell of Rousseau. His 
range of intellectual power was much wider than 
that of the latter. He was also free from those nar- 
row limitations of birth and doubtful social position 
which made the latter uncomfortable, suspicious and 
revengeful. But, so far as the sensibilities were con- 
cerned, the two men had much in common. In the 
gratification of appetite and passion, they were char- 
acterized by the same easy, elastic morality. If the 
grossness could be removed from an act, they felt 
little scruple about its criminality. Whenever the 
aesthetic conflicted with the ethical, they glorified the 
aesthetic. They were ever eager to clasp to their 
hearts impropriety in fine attire, rather than propriety 
in the garb of plainness. 

In the Sorrows of Werther, the trained ear will 
readily detect the echo of Rousseau's sobbing senti- 
mentalism. The voice is the voice of the Frenchman, 


but the hands are the hands of a German. So, also,, 
in Goethe's Correspondence with a Child, you are re- 
minded of Jean Jaques' paternal counsels to the 
Daughters of Paris. And again, in Elective Affinities, 
it is manifest that the German retained in old age, a 
lingering affection for the Frenchman who had 
captivated his youthful fancy. 

Sentimentalism, did not, however, become a nation- 
al craze in Germany, as it had in France. For a 
little while, the country seemed infatuated with the 
doctrine; but, presently, the sturdy common sense of 
the people, the love for domestic loyalty, and their 
veneration for genuine virtue resumed their sway. 

Goethe himself was wise enough to discern the 
signs of the times, and to devote his splendid abilities 
chiefly to nobler ends. But there was always in his 
life and writings a strain of sentimentalism, which 
leads a thoughtful mind to ask, what might have 
been his career and his place in literature, but for 
the restraining influence of rank, environment and 

Laurence Sterne represents the English phase of 
sentimentalism. It is peculiar in this: that it was not 
the product of amorous irregularities which the au- 
thor sought to hide. He opened this vein late in 
life, and worked it hard for what it would bring in 
the literary market. Carnal passion did not furnish 
his motive power. Finding himself possessed of a 
rare gift for sentimental fancy and expression, he 
deliberately devoted himself to the cultivation of 
that gift; neither desiring to overturn any article of 
moral law, nor concerning himself at all respecting 
the interests of virtue and religion, parson though he 


The Sentimental Journey is one long search for sit- 
uations which shall afford the most delicious enjoy- 
ment of the emotions, without the cost of a single 
disagreeable self-denial. Such imaginary scenes of 
distress intoxicate the soul with delight, but harden 
the heart to the appeals of genuine grief. The 
sentimentalist will turn on the fountain of tears, for 
every highly-wrought picture of suffering, but he 
never has any hard cash for a flesh-and-.blood 
Lazarus full of disgusting sores. When Sterne takes 
you on a sentimental journey, he chooses a boule- 
vard-route, where you will meet no funeral proces- 
sions, and where an ambulance hurries out of sight 
any unfortunate whose head gets broken. He en- 
gages to serve up to you only such fictitious objects 
of compassion as will leave your heart light, and 
your purse heavy. He finds no special pleasure in 
conducting you to haunts forbidden by the Seventh 
Commandment; but if the songs of the sirens are 
especially bewitching, he is quite ready to go that 
way. One breathes the same enervating, tropical 
atmosphere in Tristram Shandy. There steals upon 
the reader a dreamy unconsciousness of moral dis- 

The story of Lefevre is matchless in literature. 

" 'He shall not die! 1 cried my uncle Toby, taking the name 
of God in vain." 

" The accusing spirit which flew up to heaven's chancery 
with the oath, blushed as he gave it in rand the recording 
angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear uuon the word, and 
blotted it out forever." 

When criticism pronounces this the most per- 
fect sentence in the English language, what cares 


sentimentalism for the sacredness of the Third Com- 

The influence of sentimentalism on Great Britain 
has not been well-defined and pronounced. The Nor- 
man strain in the blood welcomes it kindly, but the 
Saxon strain gives it cool reception ; so that, instead 
of exhibiting a large body of votaries, it manifests 
itself, here and there, in the character of different 

America has given birth to no celebrated senti- 
mentalist. As people, we are fairly protected from 
such contamination by heredity and by the practical 
necessities of our younger civilization. Still you 
may detect this drift in our social science, our edu- 
cational theories, and our theological speculations. 
Furthermore, who of us can look into our own 
hearts and declare ourselves free from this evil ten- 

Young men and young women are more exposed 
than any others to the temptation. The age from 
fourteen to twenty-one is the period sacred to senti- 
ment. If, during those years it be fostered and still 
kept pure, there will form unconsciously a precious 
reserve for the enlargement, enrichment and adorn- 
ment of character through all the future. If, on the 
contrary, it be pampered into sentimentalism, the 
individual will degenerate into the personification of 
affectation, insincerity, hypocrisy and incontinence. 
Those whose minds are employed in study, but 
whose critical faculties have had little rigid discip- 
line, are in especial danger of being misled by 
authors of the school passed under review. Turn, 
now, from sentimentalism to realism. We have seen 
that the former is essentially vicious. It has been 


mentioned, incidentally, that the latter is good or 
bad, according to the goodness or the badness of 
the realities which it emphasizes. The two lines of 
thought remain for treatment. The distinction sug- 
gested is usually disregarded by the apostles of 
realism. They adroitly represent the doctrine as 
nothing but a protest against sentimentalism. They 
very properly decry the visionary, the affected, the 
hypocritical ; and then very improperly exalt the act- 
ual, the commonplace, the carnal, without discrimi- 

Art should be realistic. There are vast fields of 
nature which she may roam over and copy, without 
restraint. She may thus minister to aesthetic de- 
light in a thousand forms, and still inflict no mortal 
wound. But wherever in sculpture and painting, 
exposure will excite a prurient imagination in man 
or woman, boy or girl, there let realism stay its reve- 
lations, or receive the anathemas of all who love 
honor and virtue. It is not the primary mission of 
Art to teach either the Ten Commandments, or the 
Eleventh Commandment. She is called to minister 
to human delight, but only to such delight as is in- 
nocent. She must study human nature, not as it 
might be, but as it is, with its hereditary burdens, and 
its own inclination toward lust. She has ample scope 
for the employment of all her noblest powers, in 
regions which are free from suggestions of in- 
decency. The realistic painter or sculptor who 
either intentionally or unintentionally, makes naked- 
ness pander to carnality, is a curse to the world. 
The zone of limitation is narrow, but it is clearly 
defined to moral vision. Human nature has its 
equatorial belt, abounding in dangers peculiar, se- 


ductive and soul-destroying. He who trifles with 
these, under the disguise of a specious art-vocabu- 
lary, is not the man to whom those who are wise 
would entrust sisters or daughters. Realism may 
range the frigid zones and the temperate zones with- 
out restraint, but , when she enters the tropics, let her 

I must not, however, dwell longer in the province 
of sculpture and painting, for I desire to confine this 
short study mainly to the realm of literature. 

As the Frenchman is naturally sentimental, the 
Englishman is naturally realistic, but his realism is 
usually of the better kind. Inductive philosophy, 
which considers England its birthplace, grounds 
itself in the concrete before it deals with the abstract. 
The poets and the prose-writers of Britian delight 
in the actual and the tangible. They do not forget 
the five senses ; still they do not make them all to 
all. The sensible serves as a perch from which the 
supersensible soars and sings. 

This is not so strikingly evident in the times of 
Chaucer and Spenser, as in later periods when the 
national life is better unified and the national litera- 
ture has assumed a more distinctive character. 

Shakespeare and Milton are intensely realistic. 
The wholesome moral instinct of the one and the 
fixed moral principle of the other keep them from 
glorifying those things which arouse lascivious fancy 
and lead to beastliness. There are a few sonnets 
which we could wish that the former had never 
written ; the latter made a special plea for easy 
divorce which is inexcusable, but you cannot find 
any great distinctive play or poem, the perusal of 
which imparts a seductive fascination even, to sins 


which end in catastrophe. In this respect; the real- 
ism of Shakespeare, when it seems to transgress the 
boundaries of propriety, is like the realism of some 
portions of the Sacred Scriptures. You catch your 
breath with apprehension, but are immediately re- 
lieved to discover that you have received neither 
stab, stain nor smut. A still stronger statement is 
justifiable. For the average young man, Romeo and' 
Juliet is less objectionable than Solomons Song. If 
a reading circle composed of both sexes were ob- 
liged to select one of the two, the Canticles would be 
worse than the play. But Shakespeare never thought 
of sermonizing, and Solomon claimed to be the 
" preacher " of his generation. 

The Lake-School of poetry was grounded in real- 
ism, though the flowers of sentiment grow there so 
profusely that you sometimes forget the substratum in 
the decoration. The weirdness of the Ancient Manner 
may at first raise the question whether Coleridge is 
not to be classed as a sentimentalist; but if you will re- 
read the Rime illustrated by Dore, you will be con- 
vinced of the intense realism of the poet's genius. 
Wordsworth, however, is the high priest of the 
school, and his Excursion is its best typical product. 
Plod along through that with the peddler who is its 
hero, and you will have no further doubt that the 
Lake-School is essentially realistic. 

A healthy realism characterizes English fiction. 
All will admit this concerning Scott's novels. They 
copy the early features of the national life with ac- 
curacy, but the reader everywhere breathes a whole- 
some moral atmosphere. More recently, Dickens 
and Thackeray uncover the lower and the upper 
strata of society in such a way that vice is usually 


rendered odious and virtue attractive. These three 
are the fairest representative names in this depart- 
ment of literature. 

I do not recall any conspicuous British author of 
the present generation, who has sought to popular- 
ize gross realism, unless it be Swinbum. That was 
the sin of his youth, which he seems to have be- 
come ashamed of and to have forsaken. This out- 
line, though very bald, is sufficient to justify the as- 
sertion that the bent of the English people is real- 
istic, but at the same time opposed to any perversion 
of the doctrine, such as would vitiate literary taste 
and corrupt public morals. America has inherited 
the same tendencies. These tendencies have been 
strengthened by the task of subduing a new conti- 

The breath of nature comes fresh and sweet from 
the verse of Bryant and Longfellow. Life among 
the lowly is depicted in truthful and vigorous lines 
upon the pages of Mrs. Stowe. Cooper has told the 
story of the aborigines so graphically that it will 
never need to be re-told. Those phases of New 
England conscience and character portrayed by 
Hawthorne's genius, are the exact copy of the 
actual. Painstaking accuracy, rather than rhetorical 
display, is the law which has governed Bancroft, 
our representative historian. 

Still, as a people, we are more tempted than our 
British kinsmen in the direction of corrupt realism. 
This is in part the natural result of pioneer life, and 
in part due to the influx of gross foreign elements. 
Time will do much toward curing the evil, but it is 
wise to watch and check the hurtful tendency. 
Within the past five years, there has been in the 


mother country and in our own land, seemingly, a 
concerted plan to generate and propagate what may 
be called a fleshly school in American literature. 
Walt Whitman is the " head centre" of the move- 
ment. There has been on both sides of the Atlan- 
tic an effort to exalt the author of The Leaves of Grass, 
as the distinctly American poet. What can be dis- 
covered in the substance or in the form of his verse 
to entitle him to credit for poetic imagination or 
diction, is beyond the writer's comprehension. In 
the repulsive realism of Don jfuan, the genius of By- 
ron does sometimes take wing, though its flights are 
as filthy as those of Virgil's harpies. But Walt 
Whitman never rises above the mire. You find your- 
self applying to him morally the epithets which 
Prince Hal applied to Jack Falstaff physically : 
" This huge hill of flesh, gross as a mountain, this 
ton of a man, greasy, obscene, this bolting-hutch of 
beastliness." Very strong language, but abundant- 
ly justified by what defiles almost every page of the 
book! It would outrage the proprieties of the occa- 
sion, to quote even one of the numerous passages 
which are the warrant for a condemnation so sweep- 
ing. But we may select a few verses which will, 
without shocking the sensibilities, sufficiently expose 
the naked fleshliness of much which is courting lit- 
erary favor under the attractive pseudonym of real- 
ism. Holy Writ declares that " all flesh is grass." 
Walt Whitman in his Leaves of Grass teaches that 
no flesh is grass. The whole volume is deification 
of the carnal and a degradation of the spiritual. They 
say that there is a test-glass recently invented which 
enables those who bore artesian wells to ascertain 
the quality of the veins of water which they reach 


successively as the work progresses. The samples 
now presented are dipped up from near the surface. 
Only remember that the impurities thicken rapidly, 
the deeper you drop the test-glass. 

" Walt Whitman, an American, one of the roughs, a kosmos, 

Disorderly, fleshly, sensual, eating, drinking, breeding, 

No sentimentalist no stander above men or women or apart 

from them, 
No more modest than immodest." 

" Through me forbidden voices, 

Voices of sexes and lusts voices veiled and I remove the veil, 

Voices indecent, by me clarified and transfigured." 

" I believe in the flesh and the appetite. 

Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag 

of me is a miracle, 1 

Divine am I inside and out; and I make holy whatever I touch 

or am touched from. 
Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man 

hearty and clean, 
Not an inch, nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be 

less familiar than the rest. 
I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the 

poet of wickedness also." 

' What blurt is this about virtue and about vice ? 
Evil propels me, and reform of evil propels me, I stand 

" Be composed, be at ease with me, I am Walt Whitman, lib- 
eral and lusty as nature. 

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of 
my gab and my loitering. 

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, 

I shout my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. 

I bequeath myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love; 

If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles." 

"I own that I have been sly, thievish, mean, a prevaricator, 

greedy, derelict; 
And I own that I remain so yet. 


What foul thought but I think it, or have in me the stuff out 
of which it is thought ? 

Beneath this face that appears so passive, hell's tides continu- 
ally run. 

Lusts and wickedness are acceptable to me, 

I walk with delinquents with passionate love." 

Such is Walt Whitman's own confession, or rather 
profession, for a confession indicates shame, and 
you look in vain for the trace of a blush on the face 
of him who thus declares his creed. The verses se- 
lected may be read without impropriety in a mixed 
company; but they forcibly suggest that there must 
be much suppressed because of its uncleanliness. 
Should I drop the test-glass from the upper and less 
vile currents on which I have used it, down to those 
" tides of hell " which the author declares " continu- 
ally run, " I should bring utterances to the surface 
which would lead virtue to stop her ears or bid me 
be silent. 

From a merely artistic stand-point, what is 
there to admire in the versification? Compared with 
the exquisite literary finish of Edgar A. Poe's work- 
manship, or even with the rustic sweetness of John G. 
Whittier's song, the volume before us cannot be 
more fitly described than in the author's own words, 
as one prolonged " barbaric yawp. " The dialect of 
the Biglow Papers and the slang which flavors much 
of our " wild-west " verse, have some show of justifi- 
cation in their naturalness, but the very metre in the 
stanzas quoted, if there be any metre, repels with its 
turgid affectation. 

In the name of literary form, we ought to protest 
against the effort to glorify Walt Whitman as the 
great representative American poet. In the name 


of common decency, we should cry out still more 
loudly against all attempts in this republic to nat- 
ural^e unmitigated nastiness by dubbing it Ameri- 
can realism. 

The realistic movement in this country is receiv- 
ing no little aid and comfort from the Russian pas- 
sion of the last two years. Russia bids fair to become 
as natural a home for realism in the twentieth cen- 
tury, as France became for sentimentalism in the 
eighteenth. The doctrine shows the rankest growth 
in the soil of autocracy. The coarse animalism of 
Peter the Great and of Catherine, his mistress and 
queen, have been propagated till they are charac- 
teristic of the whole empire. To the truth of this 
statement the novels of Tolstoi bear unblushing wit- 
ness. While democracy on this continent cannot 
consistently sympathize with the most aggressive 
absolutism of the Old World, while our people in- 
stinctively condemn the unscrupulous policy of the 
court of St. Petersburg, which is constantly menac- 
ing the peace of Europe, we are suddenly bewitched 
with Russian realism in literature. The infatuation 
is as strange as that of the fair Titania for the beast- 
ly Bottom in Midsummer-Night 's Dream. May it 
prove as transient ! 

How shall we account for this literary freak? 
Partly from Tolstoi's remarkable intellectual power, 
partly from the zeal of his friends, partly from the 
prurient curiosity always awakened by a discussion 
of the relations of the sexes, partly from a general 
disposition to think well of a celebrity simply because 
we hear him frequently mentioned with admiration. 
The writer must acknowledge that, chiefly from the 
last consideration, till recently, he had been favora- 


bly impressed concerning the author. But a few 
weeks ago, not satisfied with the hear-say and ex- 
tract notion, he gave himself up to a thorough study 
of Anna Karenina, which Tolstoi pronounces his 
best representative book. 

It would not be germane to the present discuss- 
ion to enter at great length upon the social and spir- 
itual views brought out through the character of 
Levin, in whom Tolstoi would have us see the 
likeness of himself, but it is only just to say that 
there is in the volume little to warrant the charge 
of nihilistic teaching in politics, or aggressive 
doctrine in religion. While the novelist's vision 
is clouded concerning both social and theistic 
science, there is no sufficient reason for the alarm 
of those who apprehend disaster to state and 
church as the consequence of his influence. The 
body of the book is, however, of the flesh fleshly. The 
story may be, it probably is, a truthful picture of 
Russian morals. Due allowance should be made 
for the deadening of the author's delicacy by birth, 
education and environment. But after all, you can- 
not hide from yourself the gusto with which he rev- 
els in scenes of conjugal infidelity, through more 
than seven hundred closely-printed pages. You 
recognize the hand of genius, but it is a genius that 
delights in putting its hand to dirty work. The hus- 
band loves some other woman than his wife. The 
wife loves some other man than her husband. Now 
let this be italicized as the distinguishing peculiarity 
of the representative novel, though retribution fol- 
lows trangression : the story is so artfully told that your 
sympathies are enlisted for every culprit. The breakage 
of the Seventh Commandment is made to appear a 


pathetic misfortune rather than an unpardonable 
crime. Thus sentimentalism and realism, seem- 
ing to move in opposite directions at the outset, de- 
scribe a semicircle and meet in the common point 
of opposition to a most sacred article of the Deca- 

The type of American realism is essentially virtu- 
ous, but exposed to certain corrupting tendencies. 
The type of Russian realism is essentially vicious, 
with few redeeming features. That individual life 
and home-life and social life in this Republic may 
remain pure and sweet, let our young men and young 
women be taught to keep out of the filthy current 
of Whitman's verse, and to avoid the seductive spell 
of Tolstoi's fiction. 


In the long ago, I heard a "pinafore" chorus, and 
thus it ran: "Unlucky Sucker though you be, in this, 
take comfort, that your father and your mother, 
your brothers and your sisters, and your uncles and 
your aunts all hailed 'from Yankee-land." The first 
enigma of life to perplex my childish mind was the 
query, why did not Providence ordain that I should 
be born a little sooner, that my eyes should open to 
the light in Litchfield county, Conn., and not in 
Morgan county, 111.? That mystery, with raven 
wing and dismal croak, overshadowed boyhood. 

In the course of time, a portion of the family, tak- 
ing me, moved to Springfield, and then came the 
dawning of relief. I started to school. The first 
morning, the scholars gathered in the usual way 
around the raw recruit. " Where did you hail from, 
youngster?" sang out some one. "We came from 
Warren, Litchfield county, Connecticut," was the 
quick response. A loud laugh followed and the wag 
of the crowd cried: "Here's an odd chick; let's dub 
him Yankee Tanner." The nick-name stuck for 
years. When I went home that day, boasting of the 
new appellation, relatives began to wonder, for the 
first time, whether the boy might not possibly be 
worth bringing up after all. 

Down-East poets have often sung the praises of 
pumpkin pie, but our people glorified huckleberry 

*An address at the semi-centennial celebration of Waverly, 
111., President Tanner's birth-place. 


pie instead, until I grew to think that it must be an 
eatable fit to crown the dessert of the Immortals. 
One year, some of the far-off friends sent us a few 
huckleberries, and I looked at last upon the realiza- 
tion of the dream a huckleberry pie. I tasted 
the charm was broken. I went out into a blackberry 
patch, and ate, and was comforted. 

There was another family tradition, that the only 
way to find a decent wife was to look for her among 
the huckleberry bushes, and so, after awhile, I went 
huckleberrying down in Connecticut, but she wasn't 
there. And then I came back and went blackberry- 
ing again, and found her and was comforted once 

Step a moment now upon abroad prairie platform, 
not as a democrat, not as a republican, but simply 
as an Illinoisan. When one rides along the Central 
railroad into Chicago, and passes the statue of 
Douglas on the shore of Lake Michigan, and reflects 
upon the state's vast material resources, so largely 
due to the Little Giant's wisdom and energy; or when 
one climbs the monument at Oak Ridge, and sits 
down at the feet of the colossal figure of the Great 
Emancipator, and reviews the past and forecasts the 
future; or again, when one listens, and the autumn 
air vibrates with the midsummer lamentation of the 
nations, over the mighty warrior whom our own 
state sent to deliver the republic, and to win the ad- 
miration of the world, who who would blush for 
nativity in Illinois? 

But such a strain better befits some Independence 
day, than it does this humble semi-centennial home 
celebration. The occasion calls not so much for a 


wide spread of canvas as for plenty of vivid local 

"Waverly's first baby!" James Woods is the only 
man who has ever disputed the speaker's right to 
that honor. Even he did not seek to establish pre- 
cedence, but only what you might call a coi?icidence. 
Years ago, however, 1 proved an alibi on James, 
showing that he made his appearance, outside the city 
limits, according to the original survey by Deacon 
Theodore Curtiss and Judge Julius Peck. Moreover, 
I showed conclusively, that I arrived within the cor- 
poration early in the evening, while James did not 
reach the suburbs until along towards morning. 

For some unexplained reason, nobody wanted to 
be born in Waverly, for the first two or three years; 
but, as soon as your speaker set the example, Nov. 
29, 1837, the idea became exceedingly popular. By 
the census of 1840, babies were decidedly common. 
And, from that day to this, cribs and trundle-beds 
have figured heavily in the commercial transactions 
of the place. 

What has become of that first cradle? It was a 
rough, homely affair, very little like the light and 
graceful patterns of the present; still that did not 
make the father's benediction less fervent, the 
mother's kiss less sweet. Better such a cradle, with 
its atmosphere of faith and consecration, than one 
dainty and luxurious, but fanned not by the wings of 
the angel of the covenant. 

And what has become of the old house at " The 
Range?" It has vanished, and no one can tell pre- 
cisely where it stood. I went there some time ago 
and looked in vain for traces of the structure. Then 
I reproached myself, that I had not gone years before, 


and at least set out a tree to mark the spot. In youth 
we never realize what a value there will be in old 
things by-and-by, and so we take no pains for their 
preservation. When at length we bethink ourselves 
and reach out after them, they have disappeared for- 

The half century has witnessed here nothing 
startling, nothing dramatic. The great world cares 
little for this celebration. We have met merely as a 
little company of survivors who want to get nearer 
together, by talking reverently of the dead and lov- 
ingly of the living. The scenes of long ago were 
ordinary scenes, the men and women of long ago 
were unpretending men and women; yet to the child 
they had an importance and dignity, which, in his 
maturity, he does not connect with any other scenes, 
or with any other men and women. 

I went one day through the Pillsbury mills at 
Minneapolis, the largest flouring mills on the conti- 
nent, yet they made upon me no such impression of 
vastness, as did that old Cook and Eastman mill, 
which was the wonder of the little world of my child- 

I meet, now and then, some judge, learned and 
majestic, but I have no such overpowering sense of 
my own insignificance, as I felt in my boyhood in 
the presence of Judge Julius B. Peck. There was an 
indescribable awfulness about that title. Judges 
were not so common then. Judge Peck stood alone, 
"grand, gloomy and peculiar," before my juvenile 

Edifices more imposing than the Waverly Seminary 
may be found anywhere; but the stories told of the 
school days of John Lamb, John Cook, Henry Baker, 


and Charlie Lippincott, had a fascination all their 

No other exhibition has ever seemed so tragic and 
tremendous, as the one in that ancient building, when 
the performers were arrayed in uniforms fresh from 
Cerro Gordo and Buena Vista, when Charlie Salter 
figured as a high private, and his brother John was 
gorgeous in a general's trappings. How the cold 
chills raced up and down the boy's spinal column, as 
he heard the words of that command, which still 
rings in memory across the chasm of forty years: 
"Seize the traitor and bind him to yonder post!" No 
Keene, no Booth, no Macready could now freeze my 
blood, as did the terrible voice of General John C. 
Salter, upon that night never to be forgotten. 

Doubtless college boys go courting very much the 
same from generation to generation; still, when I 
watch them now-a-days, the proceedings seem very 
tame, compared with the enthusiasm of William 
Holmes and Thomas Beecher, who, driving down 
from Jacksonville in hot haste, and impatient of de- 
lay, were wont to salute Mary and Julia, through the 
opening made by the compassionate stakes between 
the rider and the rail below. 

Will my heart ever swell again with the admiration 
felt at seeing that ox-loving brother, Elisha, swing 
to the line six, eight, or ten yoke of cattle, it mattered 
not how many; or one of the Curtiss or Carter or 
Post boys, (as these old boys of three score and 
more called one another then), string out the horses, 
pair after pair, to match the cattle? 

That brother went, the other year, to work over 
yonder, for Him "whose are the cattle on a thousand 
hills," and Theo., and Gust., and Fred., and Platt, 


and George, and Roll., the lines that used to fill your 
hands, are dropping, one by one, from the fingers 
which are losing, little by little, their grip and cun- 
ning. Who knows how soon the great Revelation 
may come, and you may hear the clattering hoofs of 
the white horses of the Apocalypse! 

The railroads have spoiled the romance of getting 
the pork and the beef to market. Wasn't it fun to 
count the steers, as they passed by in the lane, or to 
watch them in their stampedes through the tall 
prairie grass, on their way to St. Louis for slaughter. 
What marvelous stories the hog-drovers used to tell, 
around the fire, during the long winter evenings, and 
how the huddling swine kept up the music out in the 
yard, the night long! Who in these days knows the 
peculiar zest of a sleigh-ride, with a pack of wolves 
following close behind, with burning eyes and hungry 
howl ? 

What has become of the great flocks of cranes that 
used to migrate to and fro, now seeming but a far- 
away voice, coming from so many flecks' of cloud in 
the zenith, and now alighting in long lines, to dance 
the grotesques! dances, to the most unearthly music. 
It was the speaker's special ambition, for years, to 
capture one of these ungainly birds. He remembers, 
as if it were only yesterday, being told that Martin 
Peet had caught one at last. Imagine the boy's dis- 
gust, when his informer showed him little John Grain. 
But the captor never ceased to mention, that though 
the bird was not much for legs and neck, he had a 
mighty long head. Another of the long-headed men 
was Newton Cloud, the preacher-politician, the leader 
of his own party in this region, and trusted, as a man 


and a Christian, even by those who cast their votes 
against him in vain, for more than thirty years. 

And then there was William Givens, the oracle of 
Apple Creek, who, from the top of that old hill, had 
but to give the signal, and Muddy and Franklin hur- 
ried to the ramparts, ready for battle. Did you ever 
know a Waverly boy to whom Givens' hill did not 
always rise to mind, as the type of whatever was most 
arduous in life? Did you ever know a Waverly boy 
who could sing " I'm climbing up Zion's Hill" with- 
out sticking in " Givens " instead? 

This is not a day for partizanship, yet the mention 
of those old-time democrats suggests some of the 
other faith. The Jacksonville and South-Eastern 
was not the first railroad that ran through this part 
of the country. There were always plenty of appli- 
cants for positions as station agents, and conductors, 
along the under-ground through line to Canada, 

Your memories supply names which I need not 
call. One man, however, so gloried in his zeal, that 
he ought not be passed by in silence, Ebenezer 
Miller. He taught me to count with red corn ; but 
I remember him better in another way. I see him 
now, away back in '47, in the old Seminary on Sun- 
day, between the morning and the afternoon services, 
eating doughnuts and discussing orthodoxy and ab- 
olitionism, principally abolitionism. I had not 
grown to care much, either for sound doctrine, or 
for Sambo ; but how I wished Mr. Miller and his 
big boy, Henry, would quit their everlasting talking 
and give me a couple of doughnuts. 

Less prone to disputation, yet no less constant at 
those Sunday services of the primitive days, when 
John F. Brooks, Elisha Jenney, C. G. Selleck, Rollin 


Mears and Alvin Dixon ministered here, were the 
Holmeses, father and sons ; the Posts, father and 
sons ; the Moultons, father and sons ; the Peets, the 
Peases, the Thayers, the Goes, the Roots, the Arch- 
ers, the Wadhamses and the Salters, all good men 
and true. James Salter was a romantic novel reader 
when the town was founded. Scott was his favorite 
author. Hence came to the village the name of 
Waverly, so that the last syllable should have an e. 
Mr. Salter is here to-day and the two moss-roses on 
his cheeks are as red, as when my cousin Miranda 
fell in love with them half a century ago. No less 
honored were the names of Turner, the village black- 
smith, and Ross, the martyr of Shiloh. Friends, on 
your next visit to Chicago, go and see the Shiloh 
panorama. And as you look upon the picture of 
that frightful carnage, drop a grateful tear to the 
memory of Col. John W. Ross, who died for the re- 
public upon that battle-field. 

Mention should be made of Godfrey, Rohrer, 
Caruthurs, Kennedy, Ward, Filley, the carpenter 
who built the first house in town ; Huntley, who 
made harness while his wife made sweet bread and 
still sweeter poetry ; Wemple, Lindley, Hutchinson, 
Uncle Sam Javins, Achilles Deatherage, Uncle 
Billy Deatherage, the first postmaster ; Sevier, 
Agard, Bigelow, the model church sexton; Lombard, 
Tietgen Sperry, Everett, Farmer, Hanly, Palmer, 
Taylor, Vanwinkle, Taintor, Gunnels, Simms, Rice, 
Jones, Waller, Samples, Rhodes, Meacham, Manson, 
Woods, Gould, Ham, Barker, Metcalf, Hitchcock, 
Church, Harmon, Watson, Hughes, Miner, Nelson, 
Grossman, Eldred, Jarmin, Knapp, Hopkins, Henry, 
Challen, Hall and Harris. Mr. Harris figures as 


Waverly's "two bits" hero. The legend runs, that, 
when he reached the town, he had no money. Pres- 
ently there came a letter from his distant "sweet- 
heart," but the postage was not paid, and letter pos- 
tage was a quarter of a dollar then. Uncle Billy was 
afraid to trust him, but said he wanted a hundred 
white oak rails, and said that there were ax and 
wedges and beetle, and yonder were the trees.. 
Young Harris looked at the ax, looked at the 
wedges, looked at the beetle, looked once more at. 
the letter and struck a bee line for the timber. 

Let the speaker make grateful mention of Claudius 
Sackett, who, from the love that he bore to the 
father, always had some word of encouragement, or 
something more substantial still, for the boy. 

Some of you with strong arms have brought in 
and placed near by Stephen Allis, who is still bright 
in mind, but helpless in body. There was a funeral 
at "The Range" forty-seven years ago. A living 
boy lay in a cradle, and a dead boy lay in a coffin. 
The father and mother of the former tried to com- 
fort the weeping father and mother, and the latter 
said: " give us your boy, to take home instead of 
our own." Gocl bless you, my would-be father by 
adoption ; take home with you to-day my love to 
my would-be mother my adoption, who in weakness, 
painfulness and decrepitude waits for the Master's 

There were two typical deacons in that early day. 
Possibly they were no better than the deacons of a 
later generation; yet, to the child they were sur- 
rounded with a halo of sanctity, which refuses, to 
gather around any others in that office. Cleveland J, 
Salterand Dr. Isaac H. Brown are associated in mind, 


with the best Heavenly portion, and the best earth- 
ly portion. Some of my first thoughts of the life 
beyond were awakened by Deacon Salter's solemn 
appeal, as one day, on the old North farm, I dropped 
the corn for him to cover where the hills were miss- 

And later, when there came over the youth that 
human longing which none escape, and he went to 
the old doctor about it, how nervously the young 
man watched the latter breaks sticks over the blade of 
his pen-knife, in the way which many of you remem- 
ber, till that awful silence was broken by a delight- 
ful little speech about " the hand of Divine Provi- 
dence " in the affair in question. 

Had Lumas Hoyt lived to see this half century cel- 
ebration, he would have been more than a century 
old three years the senior of " Uncle Homer Cur- 
tiss." The two might have sat here together, this 
afternoon, and have counted out a round two hun- 
dred years. Father Hoyt's lasts were sometimes a 
trifle behind the fashion, but who else ever made 
such boots and shoes to wear! Moreover, in theol- 
ogy, few of the ministers were as well read and as 
sound. You could not spend an hour with more 
pleasure and profit than in taking a seat in that lit- 
tle shop, and in watching him drive in the pegs, 
while he talked of the leading divines of the early 
part of the century. 

Knowing that I came last on the long program 
for this occasion, I felt that I could do little more 
than allude in this hurried way to the men whose 
faces were familiar in childhood. I have tried to 
give the names, at least, of all whom I could remem- 
ber. Possibly, some have escaped recollection. 


Other persons, who were even more prominent, may 
have been omitted, from the fact that the little' cir- 
cle in which the speaker moved as a boy did not 
extend so far. Let any oversight be charged to ig- 
norance, and not to intention. 

No reference has been made to any except the 
friends who figured here during the first half of the 
half century. If there were time, it would be de- 
lightful to review the second half to talk of many 
whom the last twenty years have made near and 
dear; of a brother minister whom we are glad to 
welcome here once more; of an old associate in 
the seminary, when we issued the flaming hand bills, 
in which that blundering printer, by an abominable 
abbreviation, made us pledge ourselves to furnish 
mathematics, Latin and Greek, in unlimited quanti- 
ties, at so much per quart, (Ralph, weren't those 
white days for you and me?) Recall the school 
board, the sturdy boys and the pretty girls that we 
taught, some of whom are here to-day, fathers and 
mothers, with numerous editions of themselves. But 
most are scattered, and not a few are beyond recall. 
Some died for country; some have fallen in their 
prime: Humphrey, Barker, Gould, Godfrey, 
Meacham, Lindley, Cunningham, Frederick Brown 
and Adoniram Carter. 

And there was the Shakespeare Club. . Such meet- 
ings and suppers as we had at Thayer's, and Nich- 
ols', and Curtiss', and Caldwell's, and Salter's and 
McKee's! Good-bye, romance! There's a frog in 
the throat, Bob, and John, there's a mist before the 
eyes. The story grows too long. The speaker must 
pass by the rich and abundant reminiscences from 
1860 to 1885. Waverly was dear in childhood ; 


Waverly is dearer still in manhood. Her citizens 
began the half century by building and consecrat- 
ing to Christian learning the old seminary in Wav- 
erly. Her citizens have closed the half century 
with most generous contributions toward the per- 
manent endowment of the old college at Jackson- 
ville. The spirit of the fathers descendeth unto 
the sons. Friends of the past, and friends of the 
present, with full heart I would express to you all . 
my gratitude. 

But a look of reproach is visible upon some of 
these- faces. It says, do you remember only the 
men of other days? Have you forgotten the sisters 
and wives and mothers of long ago? No! no! But, 
somehow, I have shrunk from making free with 
their names on this public occasion. Only an 
orphan boy can appreciate an older sister's patient, 
unselfish, life-long affection. The companions of 
that sister have come to seem like so many older 
sisters, too. And within memory's most sacred 
shrine hang the pictures of saintly women, who 
loved the boy's mother, and watched with her day 
and night, and laid her in the coffin, and followed 
her to the grave, and wept there, forty years ago. 
And, afterwards, the husband of one of those saintly 
women sowed with grass the double mound that 
marks the resting place of the father and mother of 
Waverly's first child. And the old sentinel still 
keeps his solitary watch near by, though his steps 
totter beneath the burdens of a century. 

Friends of the younger day, be patient a moment 
more. Let the century speak to the half-century. 
Said I, not long ago, to Uncle Homer Curtiss, the 
venerable patriarch of Waverly: "What period of 


your life is sweetest in the recollection?" Replied 
he: "The days when Charry and I were poor ; the 
days when we 'were struggling to make a home ; the 
days when we were trying to train our children up 
to Christian manhood and womanhood." 

Said I : " What is the best safeguard of the house- 
hold?" Said he : "The altar of prayer." 


There is a certain subtle force, generated by the utterance of 
one's own thought, not found in the words of others. The 
thought may in itself not be so striking, but it has such special 
interest for you, that you are able to invest it with peculiar 
interest for others. You remember what Touchstone said 
about his wife: "She is an ill-favored creature, but then she's 

"Flee from storms," reads the motto of Leonardo. Leonardo 
was one of the world's finished artists. He also had the 
strength of a Hercules. He could paint an eyelash or bend 
a massive bar of iron. He was the combination of a Richard 
and a Saladin. But in the echoes of that motto, he shows him- 
self a manikin and not a man. "Flee from storms?" No! 
God give us heroism to weather out all storms that break upon 
us while we seek to know and to do his will! 

The ladders that God lets down from heaven are never 
escape ladders, up which old sinners may climb, and so get free 
from temptation. They are but gossamer things, up and down 
which spiritual messengers may glide, now and then, to show 
that communication is still open between the earth and the 

We often run through the Bible, as boys do through an 
orchard, autumn days, now biting out the sunny side of a 
peach, and now slicing the maiden's blush from an apple, but 
never going down either to the pit of the one, or the core of 
the other. To reach the real seed truth of much of the New 
Testament, you must work through the pulp, or in case 

*Taken from President Tanner's unpublished writings. 


there seems to be no pulp, it is well to remem- 
ber that that which does not mellow up at the first touch 
may be the choicest. "Late fruit keeps best." 

There is plenty of nerveless pity in the world, and there is 
plenty of harsh determination. But there is very little mingled 
compassion and compulsion. That is divine. In God it has 
most marvelous manifestation. When he says; "I will guide," 
it means a love that can not hear no, that must have its own 
way, because that way is the absolutely best. 

Many sermons are like wrought nails, pounded out, and then 
pounded in most faithfully. But forgetfulness comes along 
and draws them with a single jerk of the claw-hammer. Why? 
Because they are not clinched. Figurative language has not 
been employed to make fast the points. 

We enter into no conjecture concerning the nature of the 
spiritual form. Many have labored to prove that we shall 
carry these very bodies yonder, but science shows that all of us 
of mature years have hadahalf a dozen bodies, each composed 
of different particles from every other. How could we recover 
one of the first five, and how could we take with us even the 
sixth, after it had been subjected to earth's subtle chemistry? 
There is no great profit in such speculation. Could the trans- 
fer be made, these clay tenements would hardly be worth the 
transportation. In dealing with a grand truth like this, why 
will men play with the shell and forget the kernel? So 
much the Christian may know, that he shall bear the image of 
the heavenly. Such is the teaching of the Book. The individ- 
uality of the soul must continue forever, and each soul must 
have its own spiritual body; and that body shall be freed from 
all the grossness that afflicts us here; and the lips shall know 
no language but that of thanksgiving; and the eyes, which are 
now fountains of tears, shall be brightened by bliss unalloyed; 
and no lines of contraction shall be seen upon the open brow 
of God's child. O ye Christians, unto whom the image of the 
earthy is most grievous to-day, be patient, be of good cheer, 
for we shall soon rejoice in the image of the heavenly. Hos- 
pital Lecture. 


Mirth is to life what the white caps are to the ocean. It gives 
brightness and beauty. Without it, human existence would be 
but one succession of dead ground swells, rising and falling in 
heavy mqnotony. 

A man who is conscious of great mental grasp and power,, is 
seldom a profane man. An oath is interjectional in its nature. 
Your professor of rhetoric will tell you to cut out your "oh's" 
and "all's." The interjectional style is always a forcible feeble 
style. When the intellectual begins to distrusfitself, it catches 
convulsively after emotional expression, which is essentially 
interjectional. Said Dr. Lyman Beecher to his son: "Henry, 
when I begin to holler, you may know that I have, run out of 
ideas." The general .principle is the same. A resort to decla- 
mation, or exclamation, or imprecation is a virtual cry for help. 
It is an attempt to hide a weak spot, or to cover a retreat. 
Chapel Lecture. 

Beyond this brief span of mortal existence, the signature of 
Dives is not worth one drop of water. It is the Lazarus who 
was the debtor of the very dogs that licked his sores, whose 
name is paired with Abraham's, shining on and shining on 
world without end. 

Yes, go where you will, to the luxurious apartment where 
carnal gratification intoxicates the senses; to the shrine where 
culture feeds her vestal fire; to the high place where honor 
weaves the laurel crown for the favorite; to the new academy 
where science waits to hold sweet converse with her votary and 
you hear the same sad cry of the soul: "Better than all these 
are the windows of God's love. There is for me no rest till I 
enter there" That cry is the prophecy of the ''clouds" that, by and 
by, shall be seen flying thither. But do not wait for that day, 
O heart of the broken wing, only let him see, here and now, 
some weak, painful struggle to rise, and the tender hand of a 
compassionate Christ shall lift you up to the window that is 
open for you. Hospital Lecture. 

God put every human being into this world to do that which 
will pay the best. If you have squandered all the chances but 
one, and that one is brought within your reach, as a sensible 



man lay hold upon it, and make the most of it. That is com- 
mon sense, and Bible sense too. Said some one sneeringly: 
''When a man is going down in a sea of trouble, pitch him a 
religious plank, and he will take it." Well, why shouldn't he? 

However it may be in married life, this is certain, that to live 
happily with conscience you must love, serve, and obey. 

Where else will you find another brotherhood of five thou- 
sand men, who are contributing so much toward the best intel- 
lectual development of the western continent, as the five thous- 
and men in the faculties of our American colleges? It is a de- 
lightful privilege, a distinguished honor, to speak in their name 
in this presence to-night. Ladies and gentlemen, would that I 
could give you some fitting conception of the fine enthusiasm 
with which these instructors have, within the last month, wel- 
comed to beloved halls of learning seventy-five thousand of the 
choicest youth of the nation! There is a fascination in a festal 
scene like this. It quickens the blood. It purifies the senses. 
It exalts the intelligence. There steals over you a grateful 
complacency that you are counted worthy of society so affluent, 
so easy in manners, so cultivated in thought, so worldly wise 
and still so devoutly minded. Yet how little can one do for the 
profit of such a company of self-poised men and women. But 
were these places filled by lads and lasses of eighteen, like 
those who have just left some of your homes for Monticello, 
Bradford, Wellesley, Beloit, Amherst and Yale, with the light 
of morning-land breaking' through their tears, and were you 
conscious that through study and ripe experience you could 
lead them on toward the realization of what is fairest in a girl's 
dream and manliest in a boy's ambition, would not the sight 
move you more profoundly than even that of this brilliant as- 
sembly? Jrom an address at a reception to Dr. R. S. Storrs. 

I used, now and then, to go through an Indian graveyard out 
west. There were all sorts of crockery, tin, and iron dishes and 
kettles hung up for the use of those who had gone to the "happy 
hunting grounds," but every article had a hole punched through 
it so that it was not worth anything for this world. Now that 


is just like the spiritual insurance of many pale-faces. That is 
their idea of laying up treasure in heaven. According to their 
notion, the worse things are spoiled for time, the surer posses- 
sions they make for eternity. 

Whence fell that paralysis of terror upon that hardened rep- 
robate, Legree in Uncle Tom's Cabin? A knot hole in an old 
garret, the neck of a bottle and a gust of wind? No, it was the 
eye of the Omniscient revealing the secrets of a sin-blackened 
soul. My impenitent friend, can you bear to have that eye 
fixed upon you, looking you through and through for eternity? 
Is there in that no hell? 

I saw in a public assembly, the other evening, a man wear- 
ing a suit, the whole warp and woof of which said flour, bran, 
shorts. The individual seemed to be a sort of human chame- 
leon, taking the hues of his surroundings. It was really re- 
freshing to look upon one who so believed in his business, that 
it showed in his very clothes. 

"Come," "come," "come," the New Year repeats the word. 
T'is the burden of this week of prayer. The air is heavy with 
the invitation. It floats down to us from our father's home. 
yEolian chords, swept by the spirit of God, vibrate: "Come, 
come, come." The Savior speaks from his table of love, while 
the hovering spirits of the glorified, catching his accents, are 
whispering: "Come, come, come." Communion Sermon. 

If you could penetrate the heart secrets of mankind, you 
would see that only a few of the dreams are fulfilled. Every- 
one carries his own Aladdin's lamp, and keeps up a private 
peep show, into which others are not permitted to look. How 
everyone's face would burn with confusion, if there were pub- 
licly displayed, here, all the wild possibilities which ever had 
place in his thoughts. The miscarriage of these has been his 
prevailing experience, but he would not have the world even 
suspect what castles he has been building in the air, only to see 
them topple and fall in steady succession. He puts upon the 
secret a dead-lock, which nobody can pick. The farmer boy 
seems to be plowing for corn, and he raises corn; but he drops 


into these furrows, on the sly, other seeds of the strangest va- 
rieties, which never sprout and flower and fruit. Nobody be- 
sides himself and his Creator will ever know of that secret 
planting and failure. 

Wed a pure life to sweet courtesy. Each is intended for the 

Any young man that has the social and intellectual gifts to 
make a successful lawyer, may, through the grace of God, be- 
come a successful, minister. The alternative is put thus: "Have 
I got to study theology?" "Can I not study law?" This is 
simply the throwing of dice loaded in favor of Blackstone. 
Chapel lecture. 

You have known grateful relief in moments of dire perplexity, 
when the hand of some man or woman, calm and strong, has 
been laid gently, lovingly upon your head. But what was 
that compared with the soothing touch of this Prince of Peace? 
For the wounded heart there is nothing so healing as the 
wounded hand. 

God never suffers anything to run to waste. You remember 
how the Master, after miraculously feeding the thousands, 
bade his disciples pick up every scrap that was left. If he 
showed such rigid economy respecting a little bread and meat, 
is he going to let escape and come to naught the prayers of 
his people, the sweetest incense that goes up from earth to 

It is one of the hardest tasks in the world for a man of quick 
spiritual insight, who at a glance penetrates to the heart of a 
truth, to make allowance for his dogmatic brother, who is for- 
ever pounding away at the shell of that truth, and yet never 
cracks it. But that dogmatic brother is entitled to no little con- 
sideration for his perseverance, for his being willing to work 
so hard for pay so poor. Take Martin Luther. He vexes you 
with his gross, material view of the Lord's Table. There he 
stands. His opponent plies him with argument. Luther 
points as rigidly as a guide-board to the bread, and only 
says: "Hoc est meum corpus," tiki's, is my body. His op- 


ponent continues the plea. Replies Luther :"Hoc est meum 
corptts." Another shape is given to the argument. Yet noth- 
ing can be \ x rung from Luther except "Hoc est meitm corpus" 
For reasoning, ridicule, entreaty, the stubborn monk has only 
that response: "Hoc est meum corpus." Till, finally, in admi- 
ration for his very obstinacy, you exclaim: "Well, stick to it, 
Martin ! If the Lord loved even the disciple who denied' 
him, he cannot help loving one who fights so fiercely to defend 
what he considers the broken body of his Master !" 

If you should point to the golden moments of your life, you 
would point to those which were ticked out so wearily in the 
night watches beside the bedside of suffering. I have read, 
somewhere, that there are plants which grow in the night and 
rest in the light. Some of the sweetest developments of 
Christian character are possible only in the hush of a darkened 

Witness the joy of the horse-tamer, as he reins some fiery 
steed down the track. What must be the joy of Him who 
drives the chariots of unnumbered suns on their courses through 
space, without catastrophe! 

It is impossible to embody the thoughts of Jesus in the 
language of Cicero and the language of Demosthenes. I re- 
member, very well my astonishment, the first time that I ever 
tried to put the sentiment of the eleventh commandment and 
of the golden rule into classical Latin. That language in its 
golden age had no words for such ideas; such ideas were not 
native to the Seven Hills. 

One night, fifteen years ago, I was riding on horse-back from 
Waverly to Jacksonville. I had written, to that time, about as 
many sermons as has the candidate. The traditional barrel 
was unnecessary. I covild have put all the precious documents 
into a peck measure, and then have had plenty of room to rent. 
I was disheartened. I had pretty much concluded that, when 
the Lord called somebody else, I answered; that I'd ask for- 
giveness for the blunder, and quit the pulpit forever. How dark 
it was! How far away the stars! About ten o'clock, I overtook 


a man driving home eighteen or twenty mules. Having never 
been any more successful in the mule business, than in the ser- 
mon business, I was whipping by, when he called out: "What's 
your hurry? Help me a bit, and this will be a good time for me to 
tell you that I want you to stick to preaching; you'll learn, by 
and by. Why, there was one passage in your sermon last Sun- 
day that would have done credit to Professor Post;" bless the 
mules! What a transfiguration! I could have believed that 
Elijah had a pair for leaders, on that memorable aerial drive; 
and it seemed no longer strange that the Lord of glory himself, 
rode as he did into the holy city, while the multitude shouted: 
" Hosanna in the Highest!" May your pastor fall in, here- 
abouts, every now 'and then, with some such mule-driver. 
From a charge to a church at an installation. 

It is a common misfortune for two public men, amid the 
competitions of the world, to become enstranged, in following 
what both conscientiously believe to be the course of duty and 
of wisdom. Often, both thus suffer grievously through life. From 
conflicting interests and peculiarities of temperament, harmo- 
ny is impossible. The matters at issue in such a case must be 
left to the bar of God for settlement. In the flooding light of 
eternity, it will be seen that both were true in their convic- 
tions, and they will clasp hands again, with the exclamation, 
'' Why could not this revelation have come before?" How 
much more delightful is the experience, when we learn to see 
eye to eye, once more, here below, and the old love comes 
back again ! At the funeral of Professor R. C. Crampton. 

A small college like Middiebury is better than any other to 
bring out the originality and independence of a young man- 
Dr. Post felt and asserted this, both in private and in public. 
Bear this in mind, any of you who in your ambition are some- 
times tempted to think that, if you were only in a great institu- 
tion, your surroundings would lift you into prominence and 
power. Remember that involution is the measure of evolu- 
lution. If it is only in you, Illinois will be your Middiebury. 
There is ample sweep here for the full length of your radius, 
till graduation. Again, Dr. Post was never heard bewailing 
the fact that his genius had no scope within the narrow walls 



of a small, fresh-water college. He did not spend his time in 
craning his neck to find a place in some famous university. 
But, by faithfully and patiently discharging his ordinary daily 
duties, he grew so large that the outside world could not help 
recognizing his worth; and thus more lucrative positions were, 
without his solicitation, urged upon him for acceptance. The 
world is always on the watch to bid such men: " Come up 
higher." From an address on the life of Dr. T. M. Post. 

The voice of the prophet is hushed. The face no longer 
shines with the reflection of Jehovah's countenance. But men 
do sometimes walk close enough to the deity, to divine ; his 
thought, to speak with an assurance which is the emanation 
of his presence, and to diffuse a restfulness which issues from 
the peace of God. Upon the death of Dr. C. L. Goodell. 

There is at Hannibal, Mo., overlooking the Mississippi, a 
high precipitous bluff, called" Lover's Leap." It matters not 
concerning the old tradition connected with the name. I re- 
member climbing to the summit with a friend, one sultry Au- 
gust afternoon, five or six years ago. My companion showed 
me where, in the war times, men had dug rifle pits and thrown 
embankments, to protect the city below from the raids of 
guerrillas. He talked about the latent heroism called out by 
the struggle, and then we tried to realize how we should have 
felt lying on the spot, waiting for the charge of some butternut 
brigade. We concluded that we might have shown some val- 
or; especially, as the only chance to run away would have 
been to begin the retreat, by a leap of some hundreds of feet 
down the cliff. Last February, I went up there again, alone. 
That friend was living still; but he did not climb hills any 
more. And then that summer afternoon came back again and 
that half serious, half sportive talk on heroism, and then the 
thought of him, as he had been lying nine weary months, the 
prey of wasting disease; and I said: " Brave heart, heroism 
is no longer talk with you, it is a terrible but grand reality. 
You were not sure how you'd have borne the crack of rifles and 
the whistle of bullets; but what is such courage compared 
with the unflinching fortitude with which in the sick room 
summer, and autumn, and winter long, you have been watch- 


ing the insidious approach of your foe? What is it that checks 
every murmur, that stills all alarm, that enables the tried soul 
to say: ' Thy will be done.' " And the sun flooded the city,, 
and there was a dazzling brightness upon the face of the ice- 
bound river, and in the silence on the hill came the answer, 
" The love of God." 

As a rule, he that would be admired in coming ages, must 
be content to forego present applause, must grapple with 
themes too complicated to secure the sympathy of his own 
day, must have faith to see an audience in the distant future,, 
whbn mankind shall have plodded slowly on, and have come 
up to his advanced ideas. 

The ash-heap of Job has risen till it has become the highest 
Helicon of holy song. 

Our hope is in the Church of our Lord and Savior Jesus 
Christ. That hope may seem to be a forlorn one, but it is the 
only one we have. Our dependence is on that same old crew,, 
that has weathered out so many storms. Only its members 
know how to handle rigging and rudder. And even if they 
have to run the vessel aground by and by, they'll pick out the 
best place to beach her, so that, at least, on planks and spars 
and broken pieces of the ship, we may, like St. Luke and St. 
Paul, and the rest, get safe to shore. 

If, sometimes, when I think of heaven, the image of the 
Son of God recedes, and in the foreground appear the forms 
of those whom I have loved and lost on earth, is that an. 
offense to my Heavenly Father? 

Once let the power of the Highest over-shadow a soul,, 
and make itself felt in that soul's regeneration, and that soul's 
salvation is secure. There is joy in heaven whenever a sinner 
turns unto God, and straightway the recording angel writes the 
new name in the Book of Life. Are, then, those holy choirs 
sometimes deceived? Do they sing, now and then, a prema- 
ture song? Does the scribe make false entries and blot them 
out again? Is that blessed catalogue blurred with blunders, 


here and there ? Nay that is a joy forever. That song shall 
never turn to a dirge for a lost soul. The entry, "born again," 
means God's blessed child for evermore. Therefore, if the way- 
ward youth once gave good evidence of genuine conversion, 
deal with him patiently and hopefully. His Heavenly Father 
understands him best. There is a presence from which the 
head-strong boy will not escape. No matter how far away 
he may stray, he will be followed by that constant, " come 
back." He may grow reckless and even profane. But hell 
and damnation will be the substance of that profanity. The 
words accord with his abandoned mood. He will not very 
often take the name of God and Christ in vain. Why ? He 
shrinks from that. There is one poor little remnant of that 
old first love, which shall at last be restored, and bring the 
prodigal to himself and to heaven. Keep this Bible open be- 
fore him, let your own life exemplify its teachings, and leave 
the rest with God. Chapel Lectitre. 

Did you ever try to use a plow with only one rusty spot the 
size of a dollar in the middle of the share? You remember 
how the dirt would stick there and stop you, no matter how 
highly polished the rest of the surface. Possibly, there is in 
your character one such rust spot, and it has this peculiarity, 
that it is just the size of that " almighty dollar." 

One generation must perish by the way. The first great 
leader must be content with a distant view of the better land 
from Nebo's summit, and then lie down in the grave in the val- 
ley of Moab. 

The voice of lamentation is never heard on the streets of 
the New Jerusalem. No hearse is seen there. No dirge wails out 
upon the air. Every other city has its cemetery, its silent city 
outside the walls. But the weeping willow will not grow 
in that soil, there is not a tomb-stone, the sexton's spade 
troubles not the clods of the valley. For nobody can die there. 
It is beyond the resurrection. All is life-everlasting. And 
Jerusalem is above sickness and suffering. Institutions of 
charity and mercy are the glory of cities here below. They 
speak of a philanthropy akin to Christ's, but love for one an- 


other seeks different channels yonder. No institutions for 
deaf and dumb and blind rise to view. Every ear is unstopped. 
The glory of God is read by every eye. They build no hospi- 
tals there, for every wanderer has come to himself, to sit at the 
feet of Jesus, and rest the head upon his hand. Jesus alone is 
free from fret, and worry, and weariness. All is tranquil, qui- 
et, restful. It is just the home for you, my friend. Hospital 

This is not a world of fallen angels. It is world of fallen 
human beings. God wants them, with a yearning inexpressi- 
ble. He wants you. He calls to you now. For how long 
still shall thy journey from Him be? When, when, wilt thou 

Always head up stream like a packet. Then conscience can 
hold you steady, wherever you make a landing. Otherwise, the 
current may work you off and away, with the loss of gang-plank 
and whatever is on it. 

Did you ever drill in the war days? You remember the old 
words, "Mark time, march!" Wasn't it tiresome ! But wasn't 
it necessary? What order could there have been without it? It 
was a great dampener to your volunteer enthusiasm, to be ob- 
liged to lift your feet and put them down, in the same place, 
hour after hour. You had just enlisted as a hero, with mother 
and sweet-heart looking on in tearful admiration, and then to 
be forced into line, and go to "marking time." But that learn- 
ing to keep step was really your first step to victory. There 
could be no "forward," until there had been "mark time." Then 
do not be impatient, when God commands "mark time." He is 
getting you ready to move on, as soon as the appointed hour 

Congregationalism is not a cave of Adullam, filled with all 
the malcontents of Israel. She tolerates vagaries on the non- 
essentials of the Gospel, but when a man refuses to listen rev- 
erently to the words of Jesus Christ, as the Son of God and the 
Savior of the world, when he substitutes for those words his 
own speculations, however specious and captivating, she bids 
him seek fellowship in some other communion. Recall such 



individuals and churches as have become heretical, within your 
personal acquaintance, and you will bear witness that those in- 
dividuals and churches began to go astray by indulging in 
speculations and hypotheses which they refused to test by the 
word of God. Fondness for their own theories and contempt 
for written revelation grew in the same proportion till, at last, 
having lost all sympathy with the historic doctrines of our 
polity, the offenders withdrew, or were refused the fellowship of 
the denomination. This process takes time, but the result is 
inevitable. The polity has in its constitution a very happy 
faculty of working out and sloughing off elements essentially 
unsound. This does not, however, hinder progressive thought 
respecting Christian doctrine. I am aware that Dr. Dexter and 
some others have maintained that the much-quoted utterance 
of John Robinson concerning further light to break from Holy 
Writ, refers to questions of polity, and not to questions of 
religious belief; but, with due deference to such high authority, 
I cannot so interpret the declaration. It was the crowning 
glory of the most illustrious figure in the annals of Congrega- 
tionalism, that he foresaw the ever-increasing suggestiveness of 
the words of Jesus, from age to age. The only restriction which 
he. would have placed upon any new hypothesis, any strange 
speculation, would have been that it must be abandoned, unless 
in perfect accord with the manifest trend of New Testament 
doctrine. From an address before the State Congregational 

There are those that aim so high that they fire into vacant 
space, and hit it. 

But, says some one, why do you not preach salvation? Why 
do you talk about gluttony and dram-drinking and opium- 
eating and wrath and revenge and moral suicide? I answer, 
what do you mean by salvation? Is not your notion of the sig- 
nification of that word somewhat foggy? Salvation is not sim- 
ply going to a place called heaven. It is deliverance from 
every-day sin, here and now. 

Truth encircles herself with womanly reserve, but error keeps 
no body guard. 


The horizon of Christianity always stretches away and away 
beyond civilization. A little boy came running up to me, one 
morning, face all aglow, and hands full of flowers which he 
said he got away out there where the sky is. So the children of 
this world will often hold up before you beautiful things, they 
declare they've brought from the very outer verge of the Old 
Revelation. And they seem so exultant over it, that you have 
not the heart to dispel the illusion, any more than I had to spoil 
the pretty fancy of that child, though I knew his feet had 
trudged out but a very little way toward the rim of the firma- 

After much casting about for some type which would present 
to my own mind most simply and readily, the outline of this 
wonderful yet perfectly harmonious doctrine of the Trinity, I 
find myself turning oftenest to this humble comparison. Take 
a tree in summer time. If you are tempted at the outset to 
say that anything so common-place degrades the subject, re- 
member how our Master stooped lower still, when he said: "I 
am the vine and ye are the branches." Take, then, the tree in 
summer time. There is the root, there is the body, and there 
is the foliage. Each lives. Each differs from the other two. 
Each is essential. As a vital organism, the tree is sensitive 
through root, and body, and foliage. Abuse any one, and the 
other two suffer. There are the three, and yet the tree is one. 
The root, the body, the foliage. Father, Son, and Spirit, the 
invisible, the tangible, and, as it were, the whispering of the 

If you would test the depth and purity of a man's religious 
life, notice how he talks about other people, but especially 
about those in his own calling. And, if you would get the key 
to a woman's character, it is not probable that you will find it 
at a prayer-meeting or at church. She will be much more 
likely to let it drop when conversing off heir guard in society, 
respecting such sisters as move in her circle, or in the one that 
she wants to enter. Just notice whether in speaking of them, 
she is hearty in her praise; or whether her talk is full of 'yets," 
and "buts," and "ifs," and ominous pauses, and significant ges- 
tures, I see by your faces you know what I mean. 


A young man always believes in driving things. He likes to 
crack his whip. This is true in the clerical profession as well 
as in any other. If you turn over a minister's barrel of sermons, 
you find the harshest utterances at the bottom. The latest dis- 
courses are the mellowest. 

How some of our calculations must sound to God and the 
angels! We say of this man that no one can tell how much he 
is worth, the figures are up in the millions; but, by and by, an 
administrator is appointed, and he goes through the estate, and 
gives you the result in dollars and cents, there it is but yon- 
der on the brink of eternity is a starving, shivering soul, bank- 
rupt forever. 

It cannot be denied, that there are rugged hills which mean 
hard climbing, but then there are easy declivities and smiling 
valleys upon the other side, just the country to call down the 
early and the latter rains, and to set them flowing everywhere 
in streams of refreshment. You have come to a place, where 
you may get a farther reach of vision, to strengthen you for the 
struggle. Catch a glimpse of what lies yonder. At the North 
of Africa, Spain proudly wrote on the Pillars of Hercules: "Ne 
Plus Ultra" nothing beyond; but hardy navigators, with sub- 
lime faith in a better country toward the setting sun, went sail- 
ing out into the west singing, as they sped through the Straits 
of Gibraltar, "Phis Ultra" more beyond. That is the senti- 
ment which you want to take with you into the discouragements 
of this first week of study, amid these new scenes. Let the 
mountain frown as it may, the valley will but smile the more 
invitingly from the summit. This is a rolling country. It is 
not all steeps, not all dead levels. The prospect which opens 
before the student, varies day by day. These ways of wisdom < 
sometimes toilsome, are, nevertheless, ways of pleasantness. 
Chapel Lecture. 

You remember the exciting race of the steamboats, Natchez 
and Robert Lee, from New Orleans to St. Louis. On the morn- 
ing when the victorious boat came in, I went down to the land- 
ing with a southern friend. A hundred thousand people lined 
the levee. As the magnificent packet swept proudly up stream 
and swung round toward the shore, shout after shout arose 


from that great throng. My friend, catching the enthusiasm, 
turned upon me, saying: "How now about that old tub of a sail 
boat, the Mayflower? Hadn't they better lift her anchor, cut 
her from her moorings at Plymouth Rock and let her drift out 
into forgetfulness?" The Mayflower "drift out into forgetful- 
ness!" That scene upon river and levee had a certain dash and 
brilliancy; but it lacked breadth, and depth of historic perspec- 
tive. Already, it begins to fade from recollection. The May- 
flower "drift out into forgetfulness!" No! No! From genera- 
tion to generation, New England's sturdy sons bring fresh live 
oak for her keel; and New England's fair daughters make over 
her white wings; and the genius of the republic adds star after 
star to the flag at her mast-head; and up from the Gulf, and. 
down from the lakes of the North, and across the mountains 
from the far-away Peaceful Sea, loyal hearts respond: "We 
cannot forget what the whole Union owes to the principles of 
1620." Let the Mayflower ride the breaking waves of the na- 
tion's thought, from age to age. Amen! From an address on 
Fore-fathers Day. 

When we reflect upon the part which children who die in in- 
fancy have in training sweet affections, and then remember 
how, in vanishing from the family, they leave those bruised 
affections clinging to the Rock of Ages, to grow there in beauty 
and strength forever, we discern the Creator's beneficent 
design in the giving and the ending of such brief lives, and in- 
stead of calling them blighted, pronounce them "finished" 

The Christian sometimes mistakes disease for . depravity. 
There was the poet Cowper, one of the purest, sweetest souls, 
that ever sang out sad song on earth, one whose hymns are a 
perennial fountain of blessing to humanity, one who to-day 
strikes the lyre with David yonder. Yet he was so preyed 
upon by this sense of unworthiness, that only now and then did 
he catch a glimpse of the light beyond the cloud. Bodily dis- 
ease had so dimmed his vision, that he wrote of himself as one 
'who, tempest tossed and wrecked, at last, comes home to port 
no more." But, says his nephew: "there was a look of holy 
surprise on his features after his eyes were closed, as if there 
were very bright visions for him behind the veil that was im- 
penetrable to him here." 


The average American claims the right to go to Washing- 
ton, and shake hands with the President in the most familiar, 
"you-and-I," fellow-citizen fashion. But etiquette atthe White 
House and etiquette at the White Throne are two very differ- 
ent things. The average American takes with him into his 
religion his ideas of democratic equality. He fails to appreci- 
ate the height of the throne above the footstool. He talks as 
if the two were upon a level. The old-time awe has dis- 
appeared from addresses to the Creator. 

Some of you have read the vEneid. You reollect the ac- 
count of the storm on the Tuscan Sea. You remember how 
the tempest-tossed hero was borne to a foreign shore. As he 
wanders there, with heavy heart and gloomy forebodings, his 
own divine mother comes down from the skies, to comfort and 
guide her desponding son. But she comes in disguise. The 
man knows not her that gave him birth; still he listens to her 
words, he grows less despairing, he insensibly follows her di- 
rection. Thus they talk on, they walk on, until the tower of 
Carthage breaks upon the view. Then, just in sight of the 
city of rest, the cloud that veiled divinity is parted, .the god- 
dess is revealed, the son cries in wonder: "My mother!" "My 
mother!" So it is with some that are born of the, Spirit. 
They are led by One that they know not. There may be, now 
and then, the shadowy consciousness of a heavenly presence, 
still there is no recognition. Finally, just in sight of that 
other City of Rest, there is a change, there is a rustle of wings, 
and the dove that hovered above the Son of God at the bap- 
tism, flies on before to its home. 

A college that calls itself Christian is not properly equipped 
that has not, side by side with its literary societies, as dis- 
tinctly recognized and respected by faculty and students, a 
society for training its youth in religious thought, expression 
and activity. Chapel Lecture, 

It is wholesome for every man to be dragged sometimes to 
the brink of the bottomless pit, and be compelled to look 
down into it, and to hold his breath, and to think for a moment 
of the possibility that even he may plunge into that abyss. 


Physicians very generally condemn the use of tobacco. 
The exceptions which they make are in case of advancing 
years or of a superabundance of flesh. If there be among us 
an old man, whose medical adviser says that he is in need of 
such solace, or a fat boy whose medical adviser says that he 
needs such shrinkage, by all means let the man or boy have the 
prescription. Chapel Lecture. 

I went, the other day, to a place which I have not visited for 
many years. It was the place that I used to repair to as a stu- 
dent, when the lessons were hardest, and ideas for essays 
were scarcest. The past all came back most vividly. I was a 
Sophomore again, in one of those intervals when omniscience 
does not appear to be his forte. He has not a few such inter- 
vals, and they are dismal enough. At such a time, the Sopho- 
more is one of the the most pitiable objects in nature. He may 
not then admit it, but bring an old graduate to the confes- 
sional, and he will acknowledge to you, that he has no de- 
sire to go back to the fears, misgivings, and struggles of that 
year, when the student is supposed to be free from even the 
shadow of a suspicion that he is not competent to fill any po- 
sition within the gift of the American people. I came from 
that spot, with all its crowding recollections, carrying a heart 
mellower than ever toward the Sophomore. Chapel Lecture. 

Only husband and wife have free access to the heart. The 
sharing of that from which every other human being is de- 
barred, is the wine of Ufe, This is the nearest approach to the 
meaning of the life hid with Christ in God. Yet, within this 
inner privacy of the married relation, there is a holy of holies, 
which even husband and wife cannot penetrate. There is an 
altar where God and the soul must meet alone. The husband 
must stand back, reverently, while the wife ministers there; 
and the wife must stand back, reverently, while the husband 
ministers there. 

I believe that there are heroic struggles here for self mastery, 
and for every such triumph the recording angel dashes away 
the gathering tears, and writes: "Well done," in the book of 
everlasting remembrance. Hospital Lectitre. 


Labor, compelled to grind in the prison house, blinded and 
maddened, like Samson of old, at length lays hold upon the pil- 
lars of the social fabric, and threatens to bury master and 
slave in one common ruin. 

I maintain that the law of competition and the law of love 
must both be obeyed if there is to be any permanent amity be- 
tween capital and labor. 

When I was in college, I used to be a great admirer of the 
essays and addresses of E. P. Whipple. I have often wondered 
why he did not fulfill the promise of his youth, though I have 
never searched for the reason; but the other day my attention 
was called to this explanation: He made haste to be famous; 
he took no pains to lay deep foundations, and to widen his in- 
tellectual horizon; he never used the telescope and swept the 
heavens; he confined himself to the microscope and to isolated 
subjects. In his early days, he had despised the patient labor 
of laying in a generous background, to give strong and ample 
support to the efforts of maturer years. He struck ten early, 
but he ran down before he could strike twelve. Chapel 

Illiteracy is the tempest center, which threatens the destruc- 
tion of that constitutional liberty which the fathers builded. 
The little red school-house is the burning bush in the wilder- 
ness, out of which God declares the secret of deliverance from 
multiplying perils. Protect the little red school-house from its 
secret or open foes, whether they be infidel, or catholic, or 
protestant. Let the state assert her independence and her 
supremacy! Let her listen to no dictation from any of the 
churches, or from the enemies of all the churches. Let her 
guard her own treasury, and provide therefrom for every child 
a common school education in the English language. If 
assured that it is furnished and enforced in other ways, let her 
not interfere with conscience; and let her lay no restrictions 
upon higher education under secular or sectarian direction! 
Just so much, and no more, is demanded for self-preservation. 
And may he who lifts his hand against the commonwealth in 
snch assertion of her majesty, be branded as the enemy of democ- 
racy in America! 


Last fall I was interested in watching a tree in a garden. 
Though the fruit was not large, the color was fair. The tree 
stood near the road, etc.; the fence was low, yet the boys did 
not climb over. There was not a single club lodged up among 
the limbs. But, one night, we had a heavy frost, and, the next 
day, those branches were bare. "It takes frost " to make per- 
simmons good fruit. You may be acquainted with Christians 
of this persimmon variety. Farther on, is another tree. You 
are tempted to pass it by. The fruit has the size and hardness 
of bullets; in general, it wears a sort of leaden look. You can- 
not detect the least likeness to the rosy or the orange hues, 
that beautify others near by. The sun pours down his rays, 
month after month, to see what he can do. The earth cracks 
open to catch the rain; then closes, and gives the dry roots a 
hot pack, to cleanse the pores, and quicken the circulation. And 
thus the toilsome process goes on. You notice that the fruit is 
slowly growing but its surface is getting more freckled, and 
ugly, week by week. You turn away in disgust. Yet come back, 
late in the autumn, and look up, and you will see those limbs 
laden with golden russets, the apples that you love best in the 
long winter evenings, when the storm rages without and the fire 
roars within. A great deal of Christianity, in this world, is of 
the rusty-coat variety; but it stands the final test. 

The little Jordan cuts a deeper channel in thought,' than the 
mighty Amazon, with all its waters. 

"As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." This law 
of time is likewise the law of eternity. Physical relationships 
will disappear in the realms where Christ declares that they 
"neither marry nor are given in marriage;"' but spiritual affini- 
ties will be perpetuated, world without end. This is one of the 
noblest incentives to a close community of religious interests in 
the home. Let Christian consecration bind together all the 
members of the household in a holy alliance, and, though death 
may. seem -to break the golden links of the family chain, one by 
one, and to leave them as only shining fragments on the shores 
of time, the Lord of Life will unite those links again till the 
chain is complete once more, and so long as the blessed enjoy- 
ments of eternity last shall the words hold true: "As for me and 
my house, we will serve the Lord." 


You never saw two human faces that you could not tell apart. 
God never runs out of patterns. He never duplicates. Every 
time that he creates a human being, he gets up a new design, 
and then breaks the mould. 

To-day, the lad may give the smallest and sourest apples to 
his brothers and sisters and make sad havoc with the sweet- 
meats which his mother supposes securely hidden in the pantry, 
but to-morrow he will dream of being the benefactor of his 
native town, of rearing asylums for orphans, and of making 
munificent provision for churches and colleges. That one who 
.seems to you nothing but a gross compound of selfish animal- 
ism, does, now and then, have some very serious thoughts about 
being an angel by and by. Only do not expect of him a 
precipitate flight up out of these things of time and sense. 

It is the yth of August, 1679, a day pregnant with the issues 
of the future. Poets have sung of the Argo and of the quest of 
the golden fleece; but what poet ever sang of the Griffin, the 
first vessel that plowed our inland seas? As La Salle turned 
her prow down Lake Erie toward the head of Lake Michigan, 
it was the fine prophecy of the fleets and commerce of to-day, 
between Chicago and the ocean. In contrast, how trifling was 
the value of the golden fleece! When the epic poet of America 
is born, his hero will be La Salle, the hero of Illinois. * * * I 
have dwelt at such length upon Indian and French sentiment 
and heroism within our borders in the long ago, because, 
though they have little place in the thought and talk of the 
multitude, they give a certain remoteness, a glamour of distance, 
a glow of imagination, a richness of suggestion, a dash of 
chivalry, a robe of romance, to a commonwealth which is 
usually looked upon as knowing no past, as having suddenly 
sprung out of the prairie sod a generation ago, a foundling and 
a groundling, coarse, gross, groveling, without a pedigree, 
great and to be great in nothing but the lustiest animalism, 
* * * We have no reason to blush for our heritage. The 
past is rich in sentiment, and chivalry, and romance, and de- 
votion, and loyalty, and heroism. It is an honor to be able to 
say: "I was born in Illinois, I live for Illinois, and I hope to 
rest, by and by, beneath the sod of Illinois." From misaddress 
before the State Press Association. 


The Department of sociology is as yet a vast unknown. It 
has its explorers, but they do not reach the interior. They 
coast along the shores. They map out the headlands. They 
sail up a stream here and there, till they come to rapids and 
cataracts. But it is another dark continent still waiting for its 
Livingstones and Stanleys. 

Every Christian should be a church-member for his own sake.. 
He is safer. He is less exposed to temptation. You godly 
people respect him, now. He is free from any suspicion of 
moral cowardice. The world is not constantly trying him, to 
see whether he is spiritually vertebrate or invertebrate. He is 
classified. He is not one of those nondescript specimens, which 
people delight in handling over and over, as they do any other 
curiosity, till they damage it unintentionally in trying to decide 
what it is and where it belongs. * * * A man may get his 
title clear at last, without joining any church, but he will cer- 
tainly, at the same time, have cut down his pattern for all 
eternity. * * * Enrolled soldiers press forward toward 
the front, shouting the name of the King. Independent camp 
followers bring up the rear, on track of spoils. Both may enter 
in through the gates of the celestial city, but which shall stand 
nearest to the throne of the Great Conqueror? 

" Ephraim is a cake not turned," saith the Scripture. How 
many such Ephraims a long-suffering world has to digest! The 
market is full of fruit picked too green. When will our youth 
learn to let the ripening process complete its mellow round. 
Chapel Lectitre. 

Have you not repeatedly, when listening to some discussion,, 
said to yourself: " How stupid in me never to have put that 
thought into that clear statement before; the material has been 
right here within my reach. That idea is no more the speaker's 
than it is mine. That is my luck. I'm just a little too late. I 
did not happen to think quickly enough." O no, my friend, 
there is no happen about it. That is genius. That idea is more 
his than yours. He has the power of taking that truth up out 
of the mind's unsorted materials, and making it stand out clear 
and beautiful. 


Very frequently our Father hedges up one way, that he may 
divert us into another path which will bring us to a better out- 
come of the general enterprise. 

There is less and less anxiety as to how people are baptized,, 
and more and more anxiety that people shall repent, so as to be 
fit to be baptized. 

The greatest internal peril to American Christianity, at pres- 
ent, is the reluctance on the part of men and women to go into' 
a room alone every day, and shut the door, and devote them- 
selves to an earnest, patient, prayerful study of the Word 
of God. 

When I was a boy, I used to think that if I could be a min- 
ister, and make sermons for a steady busines, I could just drop 
out of the Lord's prayer the petition, " Lead me not into temp- 
tation." But of all temptations, the most subtle, and danger- 
ous, and everlastingly present, the one that you may think 
that you have scotched and killed, and that, in three minutes, 
will be livelier and uglier than before, is this temptation to 
magnify self, instead of magnifying Jesus of Nazareth. 

Free domestic expenditure and niggardly public benevo- 
lence are conclusive proof of a little soul. Out upon the no- 
tion, that lavish outlay at home should shield from contempt 
the man who is mean and miserly in matters of public welfare. 
He is of the same size as the man who spends his money di- 
rectly upon himself. About the only difference is that the 
one is made on a B last and the other on an A. 

Remember it is not a proof of a misfit in life, that many of 
your purposes fail of accomplishment. If you have ingenu- 
ously committed your way unto the Lord, he has formed a 
plan for your life, and he is carrying out that plan right 
through the thwarting of many projects which appear to be es- 
sential to earthly success and to the welfare of Zion. This is 
the hardest lesson that God has ever set me to learn. My 
young friends, may his gracious Spirit incline you all to heed 
this lesson earlier, and may he give you strength to master it 
more perfectly. Chapel Lectiire 


Notwithstanding the prosy character of the regulation work 
of all vocations, there is great comfort, satisfaction; yes exhilara- 
tion, in the assurance that one has got into the little niche God 
intended that he should fill. The drill days are many, the 
field days are few. We must find our joy in the former and 
leave the sending or with-holding of the latter to an all-wise 
Providence. That shepherd lad waded the brooks of Bethle- 
hem for years, picking out the smoothest pebbles, and training 
hand and eye upon a thousand worthless marks. But there 
was a chance to make himself a marks-M AN. That he would be, 
whether or not a Goliath ever came that way. It is ours to get 
ready. It is God's to send us the fine opportunity, or not, as 
seernethto him best. 

There is not one of you, who does not know what the word, 
ought, means; and yet it is the profoundest word in the lan- 
guage. It reaches to the bottom of hell and to the summit of. 
heaven. And the wonder of it is that the smallest boy yonder, 
in his little sphere, understands the essential meaning of that 
word, "ought," just as well as the great God understands it in 
the unmeasured sweep of his thought. It is only in his worst 
moods that even the insane man gets beyond the recognition 
of this imperative. Every public speaker has felt, much bet- 
ter than he can describe, that mysterious response, noiseless, 
but thrilling, which occasionally comes to him from his audi- 
ence. I recall an afternoon, years ago, when I was chaplain 
at the insane hospital. I was preaching on a kindred topic, 
and took occasion to crowd home the thought, that there was 
not a man or woman present, who did not, then and there, 
clearly understand and distinctly recognize the binding person- 
al application of the word ought. The hush was like the hush of 
the grave. Nobody looked excited. The effect was tranquiliz- 
ing. It was a moment of wonderful calm upon a troubled 
sea. Chapel Lecture. 

You put a little leaven with even three measures of meal 
and it will change the character of the whole mass. You put 
a little leaven with only a handful of meal, and you will have 
nothing but froth and ferment. When self-righteousness gets 
hold of a small man, its work is especially deplorable. 



Everybody will sooner or later go to his own place, just as 
certainly as did Judas. Who can tell precisely when that 
question was forever settled in his case? Was it not till he 
went out and hanged himself? Was it when Satan entered into 
his heart at the last supper? Or was it that evening at Bethany 
when he rebuked Mary for pouring the precious ointment upon., 
the head of the Redeemer? We are told that, as far back as 
that, he was a thief. Or may not the crisis have come much 
earlier, some day when he was sitting alone upon the shore of 
Galilee, counting the cost, and deciding that the service of his. 
so-called Master would not pay ? 

The deepest affection for those who are gone may be proved 
by tender solicitude for those who remain. It is a sad mis- 
take, in a season of bereavement, or disappointment, to shut 
ourselves in from the world for months and years. The no- 
tion may be partly good. It may seem a tribute of devotion, 
an evidence of special tenderness of heart, or of a peculiarly sen- 
sitive organization; but there is a danger that an intrusive and 
ruinous selfishness will take possession of one who thus sets 
aside the claims of society, and broods over private sorrows. God 
would through these trials and afflictions educate us to a 
sweeter womanhood, or a finer manhood. Yet, how often do 
such things embitter and belittle the sufferer. If another 
.life has been the joy of my life, and 1 am then left behind in 
this world, that memory should be to me an inspiration, reveal- 
ing the power of one soul over another, and quickening within 
me all the springs of benevolence. 

For four thousand years, the wise ones of the earth had been 
preaching from the text, " Know Thyself." They had pre- 
sented this, outline, and that, to humanity, insisting this is you, 
and that is you, yet the reply was carried back invariably: 
" The feature does not suit. It is not like me. This is too gross, 
and that is too ghostly." Then appeared Christ, saying: " Lost 
image of my Father's glory, let me try." One sitting was 
enough. There was no mistaking the faithfulness of that 
likeness, with all its sptanic or angelic possibilities; and the 
response came: " I see, I see myself at last. How tmtch do I 
owe Thee, OLord!" 


Do not pry too curiously into the hearts of those who do you 
a kindness. Throw the dollar into the market for what it 
will bring, and not into the retort to see what it is made of. Es- 
pecially in reference to the every day courtesies of life, should 
we avoid all careful inquisition. These are mostly spontaneous. 
Each has so trifling a value that there is little temptation to 
adulterate. It is possible to counterfeit even a penny; but it 
does not pay. You are safe in taking such small change with- 
out examination. So is it with the little civilities which are cur- 
rent among men. Chanel Lecture. 

That was to Abraham Lincoln a dreary day in '54, .when 
Lyman Trumbull triumphed over him in the contest for the U. 
S. Senatorship. But it was God's will that he should stay at 
home, and get ready for the memorable struggle with Stephen 
A. Douglas, in '58. And again the same glittering prize slipped 
from his eager hand, and his long face grew yet longer with 
disappointment. But it was God's will that he should stay at 
home once more and wait for the presidency in 1860. "Per 
ardua ad astra." Thackeray gets at the philosophy of all this 
on the human side, in a homely but piquant way, when he says: 
" If you lose a tooth, it may give you a momentary pang, but 
do not stop eating. Learn as quickly as possible, to mumble 
your crust on the other side of your jaw." 

When you go into any calling or profession, it is necessary if 
you succeed, to adopt the motto: " This one thing I do." But 
precisely there comes in a danger. Beware of saying in the 
most rigid sense, I will be nothing but a lawyer, nothing 
but a farmer, nothing but a doctor, nothing but a 
merchant, nothing but a preacher, nothing but a college 
professor. While most of our energies should be given to the 
specialty, sufficient should be reserved to insure a genuine in- 
terest in whatever gladdens Christian civilization. Michael 
Angelo came along one day, took his stand beside a pupil and 
watched the work. Presently, without speaking, he reached 
over the youth's shoulder, wrote upon the canvas the single 
word "amplius," wider, and walked away. That word was 
to the boy at once a revelation and an inspiration. Every on 
needs to carry with him into his all-absorbing work that talis- 
man, Amplius. Wider. 


Wisdom's advance guard always occupies as outposts, what 
will be the camping places of the hosts, a generation after- 

We can never prescribe the agencies through which God 
must work out the deliverance of his people. He may dis- 
miss all of our fine martial array, and summon to the field only 
some boorish Shamgar with his oxgoad. We elders have our 
fixed habits for fighting the battles of the Lord. They cannot 
be wholly changed. We must still wear a helmet that feels 
easy to the head. We do better service with a coat of mail. 
It would be cruel to ask us to lay such trappings aside. They 
and their wearers deserve credit for past achievements. Still, 
our eyes should not be blind to the other fashions that are com- 
ing in. It is well to adopt such as will not be too trying to our 
stiffened limbs; but, at all events, let us give the younger men 
perfect liberty of selection. What is a fit for us will be a mis- 
fit for them. Chapel Lecture. 

" Shall I be remembered by posterity?" said the dying Gar- 
field. How varied, tremulous and pathetic are the tones in 
which the soul cries after immortality. Even when the author's 
voice is hushed in the last sleep, the silent volume into which 
his life has gone, looks down from the library shelf with mute 
appeal for recollection. During the last month I have had oc- 
casion to give a cursory examination to several books written 
by friends whose earthly life is ended. The books are good, 
and true, but, somehow, they have failed to impress themselves 
upon this generation, the dust begins to settle upon them, and 
there will be no call for another edition. There has been a 
choking in the throat and a dimness of vision, at thought of the 
hopes which have not reached fruition. And so the other even- 
ing, as I turned over leaf after leaf of that manuscript volume 
on Moral Philosophy, reading here and there a passage, written 
with a hand trembling with the chill of more than four-score 
winters, my heart went out with loving tenderness toward the 
patient, unassuming, appealing old gentleman, whom circum- 
stances had denied even the satisfaction of seeing in print his 
book, the child of his old age. At the f^tneral of Prof . Mason 


"Wherefore wilt thou run, my son, seeing that thou hast no> 
tidings ready? " This youth, Ahimaaz, represents a multitude 
in the present generation. You hear on every side the clamor 
of those who want to run without the trouble of getting their 
tidings ready. To-morrow morning, in this building, more 
than one instructor will have occasion to say: " Wherefore 
wilt thou run my son, seeing thou hast no tidings ready? " How 
often does Ahimaaz appear upon the platform, on Wednesday, 
with no tidings ready, with an old selection imperfectly learned, 
and delivered with stammering tongue and confusion of face; 
or it may be with so-called tidings, in the form of essay or ora- 
tion, which suggest to the mind of the hearer nothing but the 
" wherefore," of the text. We want for recitations and for 
rhetoricals more men with "tidings ready," men whose work 
smells of the lamp, men unto whom a black-board is not a hor- 
ror of great darkness; men whose translations catch Homeric 
and Horatian pitch and tone; men whose reading in philoso- 
phy takes them far enough beyond the text-book to reveal the 
difference between Comte and Kant. Chapel Lecture. 

There is the impassable gulf between the saved and the not- 
saved. This is no plea that, in referring to lost men, we should 
learn to talk of them as Wendell Phillips does about the 
"Lost Arts," letting his hearers down, from the pinnacle of 
pride in so charming style, that there is fascination in the 
humiliation. It must never be forgotten that the soul is in 
danger of eternal damage. No one can, without trifling, dis- 
course of Paradise Lost as he would discourse of the lost arts 
of making malleable glass and Damascus blades. The latter 
are fit subjects for the most brilliant rhetorical treatment. But 
the New Testament conception of guilt and its consequences 
cannot by any witchery of speech be transformed into a thing 
of beauty. Sin, unrepented of, is a sorrow forever. 

It is a blessed thing to be brought, now and then, into con- 
tact with a life larger, sweeter, purer than your own. It saves 
you from utterly losing your confidence in human nature. 
You pick up the poor broken ideal and put it together once 
more, piece by piece, and, though the cracks still show, you do- 
not dash it down again, as a worthless thing. 


Should you happen down by the railroad, take a look at one 
of those black chunks lying on a coal-car. "Well, what of that," 
say you. Why, the next time you see it, it may be streaming 
from the burners yonder in Amusement Hall for you to dance 
by. When the prodigal gets home and there is music and 
dancing, it is often by the light that God has brought out of 
these same dark earthly experiences. Hospital Lectiires. 

When men assail the wonders of the Old Testament, or of the 
New, and seem to overwhelm them with contempt, be not 
alarmed. You may have to give up some of your old notions. 
But go fearlessly to the Book. Free it from the traditions of 
men. Put it upon its own merits. Let it speak for itself. "The 
word of the Lord endureth forever." There is no more convin- 
cing proof of its inspiration, than the fact that it has had to carry, 
century after century, the misconstructions of friends, and the 
libels of foes, and has still won more and more upon the heart of 
the world, from age to age. And so it is to continue, sloughing 
off the blundering interpretations of its adherents, and repell- 
ing the malicious assaults of its enemies, until the truth as it 
is in Jesus shall have "free course, and run, and be glorified:" 
and this Sacred Volume shall become the great text book of 
the nations. 

One afternoon, last winter, we had a long talk together. He 
said that he, years ago, settled down into the belief that 
probably there was a God somewhere, but that he himself 
must try to do about right and then take the chances. I told 
him that I thought that a very bad creed, either to live by, or 
to die by, that I could not bear to see him face the future with 
nothing better, that what he needed for the ordeal, manifestly 
just before him, was the presence of a sympathetic Christ, 
strong and grand. He said he knew it, he wished he could be- 
lieve as I did, he wished he could accept the Bible. I urged 
him to let the rest go for the present, and read and pray over 
the Gospel of John. He went on to say that he was thinking 
on the subject as he had never thought before, that he did not 
want to make a mistake, that if he was right and I was wrong, 
he was no -better off than I; that if I was right and he was 
wrong, I was infinitely better off thanhe. "And," continuedhe, 
" what do you think of this? I had a praying father and mother, 



and they are constantly with me in my sleep, urging this matter 
upon my attention. I do not know what to make of it!" I an- 
swered that I did, that it was a beautiful illustration of God's 
use of natural agencies; that he himsell had just said that his 
waking thoughts were on the subject of religion, that he had 
told me incidentally a little while before of being obliged to take 
an opiate, at night, to deaden pain and secure sleep. Now the 
opium simply vivifies your daytime thought, intensifies it, cuts 
pictures so that you seem to see the very features of those, who, 
when you were a child, prayed that you might be a child of 
God. There are no spirits there, but what the doctor gives 
you to relieve this suffering body, God is trying to use to save 
your suffering soul. . * * * The weeks passed on. It seemed 
to me that I could see a change. That hard stoicism softened 
into resignation. His wife noticed the difference. There was 
a sweetness of disposition, a self-forgetfulness unknown be- 
fore. I said no more for a while. I did not dare to speak. It 
was a trembling hope that God's spirit was doing the work. I 
was afraid of spoiling it. Finally, one day five or six weeks 
ago, we were alone. He had been suffering, and I was trying 
to support him in an easier position. I put my hand on his 
head and said: "Joe, haven't you learned yet to lean on the 
arm that is strong?" And he answered: "Yes, there isn't any 
other." Said I: "I am thankful, then, that God has sent all 
these afflictions upon you. How glad I am you did not die last 
year." Said he: "So am I. I'm willing to live still, but now 
I'd like to go." At the funeral of a friend. 

The soul shudders as it looks down that inclined plane of 
eternal degradation which is lost to view in the bottomless pit. 
The soul exults as it looks up those heights of blessedness 
which rise in easy succession, till the summit is resplendent 
with all the possibilities of a blessed immortality. My young 
friends, you may live fifty years, and yet, practically, reach the 
limit of your probation, this very night. 

Would that be/ore their damning sin, men might have some 
glimpses of those horrid visions that come after, visions which 
people the chambers of the soul with ghastly shapes that never 
rest; shapes that with stealthy tread and white faces and 
sunken, staring eyes, glide everywhere! 


I could shut my eyes, and even hope, with Tennyson, "that 
no life may fail beyond the grave," if some one would only 
harmonize this voice of him that wears the laurel of England, 
with the voice of Him that wore the crown of thorns in 

If religion is ever more precious at one time than at any 
other, it is in the night watches. It has then special power to 
quiet our exaggerated fancies. Celestial forms glide in between 
us and those spectral shapes that frighten, and, instead of the 
voices of dread, the air is full of whispered benediction. 

Some one has made this curious calculation. A bar of iron 
worth five dollars, if worked up into horse-shoes, is worth ten 
dollars and fifty cents; made into needles it is worth three hun- 
dred and fifty-five dollars; made into pen-knife blades it is 
worth three thousand, two hundred and eighty-five dollars; 
made into balance springs for watches it is worth two hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars. Would you be pig-iron forever, 
rather than feel the fiery breath of the forge and the hard, 
blows of the hammer? Would you have the process stop with 
the horseshoe, or the needle, or the knife blade? Wouldn't 
you have God go on with you, tillyoti are fit to help keep time 
for eternity ! He wants to bring out the very highest value 
that there is in us, and the only way is to heat, and to beat, and 
to temper and to polish. Is it wise for us to cry enough until 
he is done? 

We have only a little time to work. These fleeting years de- 
cide momentous issues. 

During the war, I was living in Oregon. There was over 
across the coast range, along the ocean's break, a little isolated 
county called Tillamook. It numbered j^lst thirty voters. A 
stray newspaper which contained the announcement that the 
government would be obliged to resort to drafting, happened 
to get over there. Word was brought back that all Tillamook 
was in arms. That Tillamook wasn't going to stand the draft! 
Don't you know of a good many people that under God's gov- 
ernment are forever working themselves up into a petty fury 
and playing little Tillamook? 


There rises to view a little red school house, in. a village of 
long ago. The scene'is like that which may be looked upon, 
in any rural region to-day. The games vary somewhat. There 
is less of hopscotch and shinney. Foot-ball has had its evolu- 
tion. Town-ball has developed into base-ball. Peg-top, and 
" sheep and wolf " have disappeared. The dresses of children 
have lost their frontier look. Home-made has given place to 
ready-made. But the faces of the little men and the little women 
vary not from generation to generation. Still the one scene is 
history, while the other is only prophecy. Yet the latter brings 
back the former, and in succession the long-forgotten reap- 
pear, some to tarry, some to vanish with the years. Farm and 
store, shop and home all have their representatives, but those 
representatives are not to you just like the others in their 
neighborhood. You detect the school traits. You trace the 
influences of the period when you were children together, and 
the grasp of the hand means what it would not otherwise. The 
lad who could not lie, even to the teacher, is the man whose 
word is as good as gold to-day. The rogue who tricked you 
out of your marbles then, is the trader who will cheat you out 
of your horse to-morrow. And how thickly the graves multi- 
ply! The headstones are humble. Between the lines of some 
inscriptions you read a playground trait. In other cases, you 
smile incredulously, at the taffy in the epitaph. What a trans- . 
formation must have been wrought in that once common clay! 
Most of the slabs have two dates: birth and death; and be- 
tween them a hyphen, nothing more. Was it a comedy? Was 
it a tragedy? Was it both, so blended that even affection 
hesitated to put upon the marble a prediction of a nobler 
after-place by and by? You go from mound to mound. Some 
of the headstones have fallen, and the long grass has grown 
over them. As you push it aside, and spell out the yellow 
names, you call up the shadowy faces, that you had utterly 
forgotten, and that must have faded utterly, from the mem- 
ory of all others. But God will remember, for they once had 
a trace or two of his likeness. 

The doubt which is sincere, earnest, prayerful, does not 
court publicity. It carries on the conflict in secret, and is still. 
Blatant skepticism always excites suspicion as to its own gen- 



I must confess that my great disappointment, in my more ma- 
ture religious life, is the failure to find in all employments an 
ever-abounding gladness. Obedience to my Master's law has 
brought deliverance from bondage to sundry evils, and with it 
a certain ease in the discharge of once difficult offices, but the 
fact fails to carry with it the sense of unceasing delight, which 
I know ought to be the ever present attendant of such an ex- 
perience. * * * Am I not, in thus voicing my own shame, 
giving utterance to the grief of every Christian present over 
his unthankfulness, and his inexcusable lack of buoyant en- 
thusiasm? Still more am I amazed and confounded at the dis- 
content and petulance so characteristic of my ordinary conduct, 
when I turn from the days that are gone, and catch a glimpse 
of the possibilities of the life to come. In falling so far below 
the prevailing gladness, which should be my constant portion 
in view of the power of the endless life, would that I were 

The mother clings to the son, as sne does not to the daugh- 
ter; and the father cherishes a tenderness for the daughter 
which he does not for the son. Nevertheless, a peculiar inter- 
est centers in the future of the latter. He bears the family 
name. Upon him depends its perpetuation. That name may 
be by no means illustrious, but there is, in the breast of every 
man, an aversion to having his name die with himself. * * * 
Cicero discovers, here, an intimation of immortality* He sug- 
gests that the father is unconsciously influenced by a belief 
that; in another state of existence, he shall watch the unfolding 
of his own family history on earth, from generation to genera- 
tion. Revelation is silent on the subject; yet I am confident 
that the philosophy of the question is somehow wrapped up in 
the doctrine of the everlasting life. 

Acquisition makes the money. Distribution makes the man. 
Distribution without acquisition dissipates the money. Ac- 
quisition without distribution dissipates the man. 

Mountains are the places for eagles' nests. It is invigora- 
ting, now and then, to watch flights where the air is too thin 
for your own wings. 


Not a few of the women you and I remember most, are these 
unwedded wt>men of the schoolhouse. Of them, poets seldom 
sing. Of them, society speaks with a smile, half pitiful, half 
contemptuous. But of them, this world is not worthy. We 
glorifiy the self-sacrifice of motherhood. The sight is fair. 
But let us be impartial. Love not the mistress of the home 
less, but love more the mistress of the school. It is the fashion; 
to magn if y the influence of the mother's kiss upon the destiny of 
the boy, and the fashion is excellent. But men, up and down 
the world, could tell you, it they would, that it was not so much 
the mother's impulsive kiss as the wise affection of the conse- 
crated woman in the schoolhouse, that awakened their first im- 
pulse to do fine service for mankind. There is something 
touchingly pathetic, in the history of many who thus spend 
year after year, in this ministry of instruction. An under- 
tone of sorrow arouses curiosity, and, at the same time, the 
quiet dignity of the personality checks impertinent questioning. 
You picture to yourself some disappointment, which is hiding 
itself in a hundred gentle offices. What might have been a con- 
vulsion loses its violence in the beneficent labors of love. God's 
eye reads with fondest affection many of these unwritten biog- 
raphies, which are sealed books to you and me, but which 
draw us with an indefinable sympathy towards their objects, 
as we watch them pursue their silent, uncomplaining way; 
gently restraining the rudeness of childhood without casting a 
shadow upon its joyousness. You may detect, now and then, 
some surface sign which indicates that there still exist con- 
flicts in secret, when the heart cries out for a love which it 
cannot find, a richer token of appreciation than another's 
boy or girl can give: but it is only for an instant, and then 
the current flows on as tranquilly as before. If the novelist 
were content with the beauty of spirit, rather than the beau- 
ty of the flesh, he would find more frequently in the little 
red school-house, his heroine. If the dramatist were satisfied 
with anything less than the wild display of passion, he could 
discover there not a few suppressed tragedies. From an ad- 
dress entitled " The Little Red School-Housed 

It is time for men to learn that it is not safe to slap the face 
of the King of Kings with the flat palm of a saucy rhetoric. 


If you find yourself becoming irritable over your little house 
and cramped circumstances, instead of walking up and down 
some grand avenue, and making yourself believe that you are 
a badly abused individual, because you are not the owner of 
this beautiful lawn, or of that brown-stone front, find your 
way to some back street, where the tenements are twelve by 
sixteen feet and one story at that, where the shingles let in rain 
and snow, where rags are stuffed through broken window 
panes, where there is a general air of forlornness, where the 
girlhood is hardened out of the mother's face, where sullen- 
ness has driven manliness from the father' countenance, where 
half-fed and half-clad children quarrel for a crust, and a place 
next the dying fire, and can't you see fingers pointing at you 
on every side, and can't you hear voices crying, ''shame,' 
'shame," upon you, for your discontent and rebellion! 

The nearest approach to a pastoral charge that I have ever 
enjoyed has been an insane hospital chaplaincy for the past 
four or five years. We have an average congregation of about 
250 persons. I love those people very dearly. I love to 
preach to them better than to any other audience. We close our 
Sabbath service by repeating the Lord's Prayer in concert . 
As tremulous voices here and there speak the words, "Our 
Father," and presently shattered brain and broken heart falter 
out, "Thy will be done," and a moment later, some whose own 
will power has been destroyed by terrible temptations and the 
chambers of whose imagination are haunted by spirits of evil, 
cry feebly and piteously, "Lead us not into temptation, but 
deliver us from evil." I believe that the great heart of the in- 
finite God yearns over no other congregation in the city, as it 
yearns over that one-. 

You sometimes hear folks say that God may admit them and 
give them the remotest and humblest place in the kingdom. I 
am sure that our Father does not want us to pray so. It has a 
mean sound. It is no index of genuine humility. It is a sort 
of reflection upon Him, as if it were a pleasure to Him to send 
some poor soul out to dwell on some celestial frontier. No ! 
He would have us come up and take heavenly places in 
Christ Jesus, nearer, nearer, ever nearer to Him. 


Let now the prayer of Socrates introduce the conclusion of 
this address: "I beseech thee, O God, that I may be beautiful 
within." Spiritual beauty! You hold in your hand a sea-shell. 
The flow of its curves and the blending of its tints are perfect. 
You do not wonder that the song of a far-away ocean lingers 
there in diminuendo. When you lift that shell to the ear, the 
fairness of the sight, by association, sweetens the sound. In 
these days of pilgrimage, the soul may take on such form and 
color as shall give fitting welcome to the wave-beats of the 
"Sea of glass." Lord Bacon, in saying that, "beautiful persons 
have a beautiful autumn," must have been thinking of this 
spiritual type of fairness. The suggestion is grateful to those 
of your number in whom the bright picture of this morning's 
graduation awoke half-envious longings for a return to the 
younger day. Physical beauty may have vanished. The 
promise of intellectual beauty may have been only partially . 
fulfilled, on account of life's hard conditions. But these autumn 
alumnae display a richness of spiritual beauty, which we shall 
not discover, this side the twentieth century, in our girls who 
have just received their diplomas. "We shall see the KING in 
his BEAUTY." And we shall be like him. And that beauty 
which is as enduring as the life of God, is the beauty of HOLI- 
NESS. From an address to the alumnae of Jacksonville Female 

Little children sometimes stay here only long enough to 
leave a picture for a frontispiece. Those who go hence a trifle 
later, write out, it may be, a page of the preface. Those who 
remain until opening manhood or womanhood, and then de- 
part, have but finished the preface, indicating their general 
purpose. Those who lay down the pen at eighty, have only 
got through with the introductory chapter. 

The crowning glory of our colleges is their silent but all-per- 
vasive influence. Their very presence is a mute but eloquent 
protest against sordid ambitions, coarse tastes, animalism, an- 
archy. God grant that their healing shadow, like that of St. 
Peter upon the streets of Jerusalem, may fall, more and more, 
upon the multitudes afflicted with divers maladies, throughout 
thsee commonwealths. 


Some time ago a friend came to OUT house with a hyacinth 
which looked healthy and just ready to bloom. 'She said it had 
remained so a long time, and she thought a different location 
might bring it out. We watched it for several days, but there 
was no sign of a change. Finally, a careless child knocked 
over the flower pot, spilled the dirt upon the carpet, and strip- 
ped off most of the buds. We put the hyacinth back, as best 
we could, and called it ruined for the season. But what was 
our surprise, a few days after, to find it blooming and fra- 
grant. It was not equal to what it might have been, if its first 
promise had been fulfilled, but such flowers as there were, 
were larger and sweeter for the fall that had brought it to 
itself. There are a great many broken hyacinths in this 

"Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them." If you will 
turn to a concordance, you will find two columns referring to 
the word fruit; one column referring to the word root; half a 
column referring to the word wood; and a quarter of a column 
referring to the word leaf. 

Take a simple illustration of the Bible doctrine of Chris.tian 
service. You are a house-holder. You hire a man to do a piece 
of work. He reports himself at night. He has performed the task. 
You count him out the stipulated sum. You take no special 
interest in him ; he feels no gratitude toward you. It is simply 
a business transaction. Just then, ydur little boy comes rushing 
in with dirty hands, smutty face, and blood up to fever heat. 
He has been digging away in the garden to please you. You 
look out. Your hired man would spade up more ground than 
that for a sixpence, or worse, perhaps, what the child has done 
is a positive damage; he has thrown up a bed, where you 
wanted a walk; or has unwittingly destroyed some of your 
choicest flowers; but, as the little fellow stands there, panting, 
and telling how glad he is to help you, your eyes fill, and you 
are ready to give him greenbacks, purse, and all! Now it is 
just such help as that, that God wants from you and from me. 
The spirit is everything. What if our zeal does lead us into a 
blunder occasionally ? He does not wish to deal with us on the 
profit and loss principle. 


It is a heroic sight to see one that is rich, giving, liberally not, 
for applause, not from fear of Jehovah, noi from impulse, not 
because he loves to give; but because he hates to give; to 
shake off the fetters of mammon, to assert his independence, 
and to proclaim himself God's free-man. . 

Take a piece of graining. To be sure that the man that did 
the graining was a master of his art, you must pick out some 
panel on which he tried to represent birds'-eyes shivers in the 
oak, or better still, just examine his work where he endeav- 
ored to bring out a knot in the wood. The knots are the true 
tests in the graining. In judging your character, God does not 
look at the light and the shade and the general spread. He ex- 
amines the knots. If you are converting those into things of beau- 
ty, he has a place for you yonder. Did any of you ever live in a 
part of the country where fir was the principal timber? If so, you 
have a vivid recollection, of your first attempt at splitting fire 
wood. You got warm a great deal faster than did the people 
n the house. You know that, in that kind of tree, wherever a 
imb shoots out, a pin runs into the heart of the trunk. How 
you drove the ax into the soft wood, now on this side and now 
on that, all to no purpose, till an old settler came along, took 
pity on you, and split the chunk at the first blow, by simply 
bringing the edge of the ax down upon the center of the knot! 
If you want to lay open character, just strike for the ugliest 
knot in it. That was what Christ always did. 

The only way for your chinless man to be sinless is to keep 
far away from temptation. 

Whenever, in life, a Mount Nebo obstructs your way, 
climb it. God is there. Let Him teach you to face your 
disappointments without repining. He will talk with you 
about it until you understand, till you realize the blessedness 
of those that mourn. 

How can he who reviews the past and dwells upon the 
many proofs of God's loving providence in his personal history, 
let the doxology die out, and the minor key steal into so many 
strains of his psalm of life? 


Daniel Webster silenced if he did not convince another, who 
had confused ideas upon the Trinity, by saying with that 
majestic manner so characteristic of the statesman: "Sir, you 
cannot understand the arithmetic of heaven!" I used to ac- 
cept the answer as satisfactory, but it does not seem so these 
later years. With all deference to so great a name, I cannot 
think that the fundamental rules of heaven's arithmetic differ 
from the fundamental rules of earth's arithmetic, that if Abra- 
ham, Isaac and Jacob, and you and I, were given some exam- 
ple in addition, subtraction, multiplication or division, we 
should get contradictory answers. 

It is only when you examine yourself in the presence of 
Christ, that you get a genuine photograph of your moral 

Said the dying artist Sala, when they had borne him to the 
church that he might take a last look at his work: " That will 
do." It is not the spread of historic canvas; it is not the size, 
but \h.Q finish of the picture, which God looks for from you and 

Heart strings like harp strings must be strained to be 
brought into tune. Discordant notes are harmonized by sor- 
row. You can not weep with those that weep, until you 
have felt the pangs of bereavement. After that, whenever 
you go to the house of death, you thank God that you have 
followed the hearse from your own door; for whereas, before, 
you looked on with a mixture of curiosity and sorrow, now 
your heart throbs with earnest sympathy for the afflicted; and 
presently there are lights within your own darkened soul; foot- 
falls that ceased long ago, are caught once more. There glides in 
the form that was your strength and joy for years, before you 
were left to battle alone. You hear anew a father's last pray- 
er and a mother's last whisper unto Jesus, for you. You clasp 
again the golden-haired darling that Christ took so soon to be 
of the kingdom of heaven. There is no Christian here for 
whom the first anguish is. past who does not feel that it is 
blessed to have jewels in burial caskets. Thanks be unto God 
for the hours of weeping which melt down the icy isolation of 


self, and bring us heart to heart with our brethren; "which draw 
us away in our desolation unto the Man of Sorrows, making us 
fitter for life and fitter for immortality. Then let the grave 
stones be set up, here and there, lest we lose our way to 
heaven! The Mount of Crucifixion and the Mount of Olives 
were near together. The hill where Christ suffered lay over 
against the hill from which he ascended to his throne. So it 
becomes us, when we are called upon to suffer, to find and walk 
in that divine path which leads'from Calvary to Olivet. What if 
our sorrow does endure for the night ! What if the night be 
long ! What if, though we turn our faces patiently towards 
the East, we catch no more than the signs of the dawning! 
The morning will break, at least Yonder, where gladness 
shall be eternal; where darkness never falls; where there can 
be no night, for the Lord of Light is there. From his pres- 
ence all shadows vanish. All sighing dies away. The soul 
that has been sorely tempest-tossed, shall sail there on the 
peaceful sea, the sea of glass that mirrors no frowning sky, 
that reflects only the fathomless azure of Infinite Love. Oh, 
the morning joy of that shining sea, shining shore, shining,, 
city, shining throne, shining glory of God ! 

-11 " " = x 

H577' 176-