Lectures to young men

University of California.

<y c.

L E C T U

YOUNG MEN,

BT WILLIAM G. ELIOT, JK.

OTIVERSIT7

ELEVEN

BOSTON:
AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION.

1882.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, bj

CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY,
in the Clerk's Offi«« -tf the District Court of the District of Massachusetfc

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTORY LECTURE.

PAGE

AN APPEAL 5

LECTURE II.
SELF-EDUCATION . . . . . .30

LECTURE III.
LEISURE TIME 57

LECTURE IV.

TRANSGRESSION 86

LECTURE V.

THE WAYS OF WISDOM 128

LECTURE VI.
RELIGION ....... 159

UNIVERSITY

INTRODUCTORY LECTURE.

AN APPEAL.

" I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the
word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one. Lo\e
not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love
the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the
world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life,
Is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away,
the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.
Uohnii. 14-17.

life,

, and \
." —

I PROPOSE, as already announced, to give
several discourses to young men, addressed to
them as a distinct class in the community and
as individuals. For such an undertaking we
have the authority and example of an Apostle,
who, m the words of my text, addresses his
exhortations to young men, with a degree of
solemnity that shows the importance attached
to this part of his preaching. He repeats the
same words twice, and with increasing em-
phasis: "I write unto you, young men, be-

6 AN APPEAL.

cause ye have overcome the wicked one";
and again, "I have written unto you, young
men, because ye are strong, and the word of
God abideth in you, and ye have overcome
the wicked one."

This apostolical example we would follow ;
this Scriptural authority we would use. I de-
sire to address the young men of this society,
and all those who are willing to hear me, in
the woids of soberness and truth. Under
different circumstances and with a feebler
tongue; but with a purpose I trust equally
true, and with a work to be accomplished, not
less important than that which the Apostles
themselves were sent to accomplish. For
their work was to speak in Christ's stead, per-
suading men to be reconciled to God; and the
same work is committed to every minister of
Christ, at the present day. They may do it
badly; they may work as hirelings, and not as
faithful shepherds; but their work, whether
done or neglected, is the same.

The circumstances, however, under which
the Apostle spoke are very different from our

AN APPEAL. 7

own. He addressed those only who were
members of the Church of Christ, who had
already made a good profession and proved
their sincerity by lives of obedience. For he
says, " I have written unto you, young men,
because ye are strong " ; that is, strong in the
Lord and in the power of his might, "and the
word of God abideth in you, and ye have
overcome the wicked one." In that day there
were very few nominal Christians. Those
who bore the name of Christ were also com-
pelled to bear his cross. They who came to
hear Christian preaching carried their lives in I
their hands, and the young men of a Christian j
society were an army of self-devoted followers
of Him, under whose standard they were en-
listed. I wish that it were so now. The out-
ward danger is past, but I wish that the self-
devotion could continue.

Unhappily for the Christian cause, it is not
so. Of all the young men in this city, who
were educated by Christian parents, and who
in common language would call themselves
Christians, not one tenth have a full right to

8 AN APPEAL.

that name-, not one tenth have so much as
professed their faith in Christ. How small a
number can be said to have a well-founded
hope in him ! In this society, there are prob-
ably two or three hundred young men ; I mean
that there is at least that number who make
this their usual place of worship, when they
attend church at all. How small a part of
them take their place at the comrnunion-table
of Christ! or, to apply a more general test,
how small a part of them can be said to haV3
had a personal religious experience !

The majority of young men are unfixed in
^ their religious opinions, irresolute in their re-
ligious purposes, irregular in their religious
duties. Many of them are unsettled in their
principles of conduct and have no fixed plan
of life. They are floating upon the surface of
society, carried one way or the other by the
currents of social influence, by the changing
wind of good or ill success. They are not
strong; the word of God does not yet abide
in them ; they have not overcome the wicked
one. They are trusting, it would seem, to the

AN APPEAL.

natural progress of things for their salvation,
instead of working it out with fear and trem-/
bling.

Young men ! I speak seriously and earnest
ly, but do I not speak truly? I would not
bring an unjust charge, but I fear that there is
something radically wrong, which needs to be
corrected. The wrong may be in the speaker,
more than the hearer ; in the minister, more
than in the people ; for surely if religion were
presented, as it ought to be, in its simplicity
and power, there would not be so many of the
young who turn away from it, with indiffer-
ence or contempt. Our churches ought to be
filled with young men. Our communion-table
should be crowded with them ; our Sunday
school, our ministry to the poor, our Christian
missions, and every religious enterprise, should
be made prosperous by their cooperation ; and
this would be the case, if the Gospel of Christ
were brought home to their hearts as it ought
to be. That it is not done, is undoubtedly the
fault of those to whom the dispensation of the
Gospel is committed. If the truth could be

10 AN APPEAL.

preached as it is in Jesus, surely the young
would hear it. Would to God that I could
now speak so that every one who hears me
would feel rebuked for his sinfulness, and go
from this house with his heart full of that infi-
nite question, " What shall I do to be saved?"

This is ray reason for speaking so plainly;
for in plainness of speech is my only hope -of
success. This is the cause of my anxiety;
for while there are so many young men who
show their confidence in me by making this
the place of their worship, but to whom it is
not made the savor of life unto life, there is
reason to fear that my own duty is but imper-
fectly performed.

Do not understand me, however, as saying
or thinking that the salvation of my hearers
depends upon me. I abhor that arrogance of
the priestly office, by which such claims are
made, as though the minister, the servant of
Christ, were the mediator between God and
man. Nor can we excuse the worldly-minded
and indifferent, as though they could plead,
before the bar of God, the dulness or ineffi-

AN APPEAL. 11

ciency of their religious teachers, in palliation
of their sins. No : your souls are, under God,
in your own keeping. With the Bible in your
hands, you have no sufficient excuse for igno-
rance, nor worldliness, nor sin. With God's
instructors all around you, and in your own
hearts, you cannot plead the want of faithful
teachers. With a mother's blessing resting
upon your head, and the recollection of a
mother's words rising unbidden in your hearts,
you cannot plead the want of motive to lead
a pure and religious life.

The ultimate responsibility, therefore, must
rest with yourselves, even with each one of
you. Nevertheless, when we look around \,
upon the multitude of young men with whom
this city is filled, and the evil influences to
which they are exposed ; when we see how
large a part of them are walking in the broad
but dangerous road that leads to destruction,
and how few, comparatively, are even seeking
for the way of eternal life, we cannot help
feeling that every one who occupies a Chris-
tian pulpit has a duty to fulfil towards thenij

12 AN APPEAL.

which has not yet been perfectly accom-
f plished.

It would be unjust to say that the young
men of St. Louis, compared with those of
other cities, are below the general standard.
I have no sufficient means for making such a
comparison, but think that, if it were fairly
made, the judgment would not be against us.
The average degree of morality and of respect
for religion is perhaps a*s high here as else-
where. When all the circumstances are con-
sidered, it is higher than could have been rea-
sonably expected ; but no one will deny that
there is great room for improvement. The
standard even of common morality among our
young men is not so high as it ought to be,
and religion is too little regarded. We need
some new element at work among them ; we
need some stronger influence to counteract the
worldly and irreligious influences by which
they are surrounded.

Look at their numbers. A gray-haired man
is but now and then seen among us. See how
early they enter upon the active duties of life.

AN APPEAL.

13

At the age of fifteen or sixteen, they are found
in their places of business doing their part, and
before ten years are past, they have become
the merchants and enterprising men of the
city. Take away from our city the young
men, and how little would be left of all its
present vigor and enterprise ! There is no
city of the world, probably, in which young
men occupy a more important position ; none
in which a greater responsibility, for good or
evil, rests upon them. Do they feel this as
they ought? Do they understand the great-
ness of their work, and the importance of
doing it well and quickly ?

It is perceived in part, but not as it ought
to be. There are some who feel it, but there
are still more who think only of the fortune
they have come to seek, and of the pleasures
they pursue. The cause of religion and of
morality, the moral interests of society, the
progress of truth and goodness, give them no
concern. If they can obtain the means of
living, and have enough to spare for their
amusements, their work is accomplished : and

14 AN APPEAL.

in the choice of their amusements they are
guided, not by their sense of what is right and
wrong, but by considerations of convenience
and of custom. What others do, they will
do ; where others go, they will go. The de
gree of decency or respectability required b\
the circle in which they move, they will try to
attain, and if they do not sink much below it,
they are content. Thus evil customs prevail
more and more ; thus the tendency with so
many is continually downwards. Thus it
happens, that hundreds of those who come
here with general intentions of living a good
life, breathe an impure atmosphere and be-
come morally tainted from the very first.
Thus it is, that so many run a rapid career,
through frivolity and self-indulgence and sin,
ending in contempt and ruin.

Go through our city from one end to the
other, through its principal streets and sub
urbs, on the week-day and on the Sabbath
We do not ask you to look upon the low
haunts of vice, the dens of vile iniquity, whose
secrets you may not even think upon without

AN APPEAL. 15

the stain of impurity; but look at the more
respectable places of resort, where the cup of
pleasure is made to sparkle, and the appli-
ances of luxury are used to introduce the ap-
pliances of vice. Look in, — you need not
enter, — look in upon the splendid rooms ap-
propriated exclusively to tippling and games
of chance. Consider what enormous profits
must accrue from such establishments, and
ask yourselves BY WHOM they are chiefly sup-
ported. I would speak diffidently upon sub-
jects on which I am unavoidably to a great
extent ignorant. We know that those doors
are darkened, too often, by the forms of men,
whose proper place is with their wives and
their children, and even with their children's
children, at their own homes. A heavy guilt
do they incur, who, with the soberness of years
resting upon them and the serious duties of
mature life to discharge, yet give their counte-
nance to the dram-shop, — for that is its name
be it ever so splendid, — and their influence
to the cause of dissipation and sin. But
their number I would fain believe is small.

16

If I may trust my own observation and
what is told me by others, the chief responsi-
bility for the growth of intemperance and
other forms of vice among us rests upon the
young themselves ; upon young men, who are
betrayed into habits which at first seem only
foolish, but which by rapid growth become
sinful, because they think that youth will ex-
cuse them, and that while young they have a
right to do as they please. Beginning with
occasional indulgence, feeling that they are
unobserved, or that what they do is of no im-
portance one way or the other, they gradually
form habits which place them among the op-
ponents of virtue and the devotees of sin.
Sometimes they stop before it is too late, and
with saddened hearts begin a life of sobriety
and usefulness. But even then, ought they
not to consider that they have been doing an
• incalculable harm to the cause of sound mo-
rality and religion ; that they have been lend-
ing their influence to the support of institu-
tions which are the curse of our community ?
This is the first ground on which I would

AN APPEAL. 17

appeal to the young men of St. Louis; name-
ly, on the ground of their social importance as
a class, and their individual influence as mem-
bers of that class.

In other cities, the young man may plead
his insignificance as an excuse for self-indul-
gence in those things which offer a bad exam-
ple to others. He may say that the institu-
tions of society are so fixed, that nothing he
can do will affect them ; that the interests of
society are in the hands of older persons and
must be protected by them. But here it is
not so. Our institutions are not fixed ; our
standard of morality is not established, and it
is chiefly for the young men of this city to say
what it shall hereafter be. Whether they
know it or not, they are doing a large part
in giving direction to public opinion and es-
tablishing the standard of public morality.
Taken together, they are the strength of the
city; individually, every one of them has a
part to perform.

You may think that this is an exaggerated
statement ; but it is not. The character of
2

18 AN APPEAL.

our young men is now, and for a long time to
come must be, tae character of our city. The}
must settle the point whether intemperance,
dissipation, licentiousness, profanity, gam-
bling, and the like, shall be the order of the
day, or, instead of them, religion, good order,
sobriety, chastity, and other virtues which be-
long to the gentleman and Christian. It is
for them to determine what shall be the stand-
ard of refinement and education among us ;
whether we shall be a mere money-loving
community, buying and selling to get gain, or
a community in which it is necessary for a
man to be educated in order to be respected,
to be refined in order to be tolerated. It is for
them to say whether literature and the fine
arts, learning and science, shall take firm root
among us, or struggle for a feeble existence as
they do now. Do you say that such things
properly devolve upon the older and wealthier
members of the community? We answer,
that, for several years past, those of our older
citizens who have large wealth at their com-
mand, have been giving evidence of their in-

AN APPEAL.

19

terest in the welfare of our city. Some of
them have shown great liberality towards our
infant institutions of learning and benevo-
lence, and those who have not yet done so
are probably only waiting for some opportu-
nity of enlarged action. We beg them not
to wait until the hour of death. It is far bet-
ter to give than to bequeathe ; better, both as
a service of God and as a benefit to mankind
We would also remind you, that among the
wealthier there are found many who yet be-
long to the ranks of young men, or who are
just passing into middle life. It is to them
that we look, and not in vain, to become lead-
ers in every good movement, promoters of ev-
ery good cause. That they will respond to the
call, we have every reason to believe. The
wealth which they are rapidly accumulating
in our thriving city, they will generously use
for the city's best advancement. They are al-
ready doing so and we trust that it will
abound more and more. To what nobler use
can they devote their growing fortunes, than
to the furtherance of sound knowledge and

20 AN APPEAL.

useful information, in the city where they live
Their prosperity will deserve respect, their de-
votion to business will become a Christian
calling, if, as they advance in the road to
wealth, they plant the trees of knowledge and
of virtue by the way-side for the benefit of
those to come after them. We appeal to
them, as being at the same time the young
men and the influential men of our city. Let
them deal towards this community with a lib-
eral hand and a large heart, and they will find
therein an exceeding great reward. They will
find it in well-deserved respect; in the feeling
that they labor, not for money, but for human-
ity ; in the consciousness that by their pros-
perity society is blessed. I know that I speak
to many such, and that my words do not fall
upon unwilling ears. We have reason to
hope that what they have done in time past is
but the earnest of greater works in the time to
come.

But neither from the older nor the wealth-
ier classes can the chief influence come. It
must chiefly proceed from that more numer-

AN APPEAL. 21

cms d.ass, who are, comparatively speaking,
beginners in life : who have but little to work
with, except character and example ; who
must do their part towards forming the com-
munity aright, by forming themselves aright ;
who must elevate the general taste, by elevat-
ing their own taste; who must promote good
morals, by making their own lives correct;
who must advance education, by educating
themselves ; who must give a right direction,
by themselves going in the right direction.

This is the great thing to be done, and this X,
is what every one can do. Do you ask how ?
We answer, let every young man consider the
great problem of life seriously and with care.
Let him have a fixed aim ; a purpose which
he will accomplish, a work which he will do.
Not the plan for a year only ; not the purpose
which to-morrow will change; but a fixed
aim, a life-purpose, to which every thing shall
be made to bend, which every thing shall be
made to subserve. We need not say a good
aim, a good purpose. I defy you to have any
other, if you adopt it deliberately. You can-

AN APPEAL.

not make up your mind to the devotion ol
your lives to any mean or wort Jess pursuit,
even if you try. You may do the thing itself ;
you may devote yourselves to mere labor, like
a beast of burden ; or to mere pleasure, like
the worldling; or to iniquity, as though you
ioved it for its own sake. But this will not
be from a fixed purpose, as your selected plan
of life. It will be because you have no plan,
because you are putting off to some more con-
venient season the claims of duty and religion,
Bring yourselves to say, " This shall be my aim
in life; this is the whole work which my
whole life shall accomplish"; and as surely
as your soul was made in the image of your
God, you will turn your face heavenward.
The great delusion of sin is this : we persuade
ourselves that for a few months or years we
may live without a fixed aim, and yet go in no
fixed direction ; that we may continue in cer-
tain wrong courses, indulging ourselves in sin-
ful pleasures, giving ourselves only to worldly
pursuits, and that by and by we will begin a
new course with a higher aim in life. And

AN APPEAL. 23

BO we go onward to our ruin. For he who
has no fixed aim in a right direction may be
sure that he is steadily going in a wrong.
The strong folds of habit will gather round
him ; his moral tastes will be perverted ; his
influence will be exerted on the side of evil ; J
his whole life will become a failure.

Throw your minds forward now, if you can,
and in imagination place yourselves at the
closing term of a long life. Let the three-
score years pass over you, with all their varied
cares and occupations, until the physical frame
is already bowing under their influence, and
the freshness of life has gone, and the account
must, in the course of nature, soon be rendered
in. Sit down as at that advanced age, in
your counting-room, in your office, or at your
own fireside, and let the former years pass in
review before you, that you may read the
record they are bearing onward to eternity.
Let memory play a faithful part, until the
whole picture of your life is held up before
your mind's eye.

At first it comes indistinctly and in con-

24 AN APPEAL.

fused lines, but gradually more and more
plain, until each object is distinctly seen, and
each event distinctly remembered. The his-
tory of your life is before you, and, either for
good or for evil, you are compelled to read it.
With what different feelings will it be, ac-
cording to the manner in which your lives
have been spent! If it is the history of a
childhood full of promise, in which fond par-
ents expended the treasures of love upon you,
and in which the early development of your
minds gave earnest of a vigorous and manly
character, but from which you passed to the
years of wayward and undisciplined youth ;
if, as the history goes on, it tells you of one
who advanced in years, but not in knowledge,
— who was industrious because he was com-
pelled to be, to gain a living, and whose sur-
plus means, large or small, were expended for
idle and unprofitable pleasures, or for foolish
and sinful indulgences ; if it tells of one who
had no fixed plan of life, but went forward as
he was carried by the force of example, to
which he submitted himself, even when he de-

AN APPEAL. 25

spised it ; if it tells you of one whose place in
the world was merely to do a certain amount
of daily work and to be paid for it, but whose
influence upon the real interests of society was
either negative or baneful ; if it tells you of a
man whose name is not written with honor
upon any public record, or upon any enter-
prise of usefulness or philanthropy ; if, as you
read the continued history, you see that, so
far as all the great interests of man are con-
cerned, — education, refinement, art, morality,
religion, — the man of whom you are reading
might as well never have lived at all, — that in
all these respects his history is a blank, — that
for all the real uses of life his existence has
been a failure and a mistake; — young man!
if this history should be the record of your own
life, with what feelings would you read it?
Was it for no more than this that you were
placed here ? Are you satisfied to think of so
tame and insignificant a result of a life which
begins with so many aspiring hopes ? Is this
to be the end of all your youthful ambition, —
a record stale, flat, and unprofitable, which

26 AN APPEAL.

you yourself are ashamed to read, and which
no one else will either read or remember?

Yet I have spoken of no crime. The rec-
ord which we have now been reading is not
so much of a wicked life, as of one passed in
the common routine of events, with nothing
either very good or very bad to mark it. To
him who is passing such a life, it seems well
enough. The finger of scorn is not pointed at
him ; he holds a position comparatively re-
spectable ; he earns his own living, occasion-
ally helps a friend or neighbor, and never does
any thing to bring absolute disgrace upon his
name. There are so many whose lives are
worse, that he is tolerably well satisfied with
himself. But how meagre and unsatisfactory
must the whole appear, when it passes under
that stern review at the last ! When the close
of life comes, can any one of us be satisfied
with its result, unless we feel that in some re-
spect it has been a good thing for the cause
of humanity and for the glory of God, that
we have lived ?

What, then, must be the feelings of him,

AN APPEAL. 27

who reads the records of a life, not only worth-
less, but wicked ? if that too faithful mem-
ory recalls days of folly and nights of crime ?
if dissipation, and revelry, and licentiousness,
and blasphemy, and violation of trust, and
broken promises, are the headings of the chap-
ters, as he reads from page to page? Think
of one who, in the silent loneliness of old age,
broods over recollections such as these ! He
feels that he does not comprehend the depth
to which he has fallen ; the light of eternity is
needed to reveal that to him ; but he knows
enough to be covered with shame, and the de-
spondency of his heart is but little better than
despair. Young man ! kneel down and pray
to your God, that he may save you from such '
a close of life as this ! Pray for early death,
for poverty, for suffering, for ignominy, rather
than to be left in the darkness of that sorrow.
For nothing can come to you in this world,
which would not seem joy and happiness in
comparison with this.

And what difference will it make, if such a
review of sin comes before you in the gilded

AN APPEAL.

Hall of wealth, or under the destitution of pov-
erty ? Will the gold adorn the record itself,
so that you can read it pleasantly ? Will it
become an illuminated page, because the
headings of those fearful chapters are embel-
lished with bright coloring, and the volume
encased in costly binding ? Will " innocence
seduced," and " virtue corrupted," and " relig-
ion profaned," appear less hateful on that ac-
count ? Or will they not seem rather to be
written in burning letters ; illuminated indeed,
but as if by the fierceness of fire ? You may
bribe the world, and buy its good opinion, but
can you bribe your conscience ? Can you cir-
cumvent your God ?

Turn away from so sad a picture. Let the
retrospect of our life come under what circum-
stances it may, in riches or in poverty, in a
position of great influence, or in one of com-
parative obscurity ; but let it be the retrospect
of a life well spent, — a life of truth, of honor
and sobriety, — a life of manly earnestness to
do whatever we were able to remove the suf-
ferings of humanity, to educate ourselves in

AN APPEAL.

29

practical goodness, to promote the cause of
morality and religion. It may recall no great
deeds of philanthropy, but if the chambers of
our imagination contain no pictures of guilt, —
if in the last review of life we are able hon-
estly to say, " Religion and morality have not
suffered at our hands, but by a daily good
example, and by the faithful use of whatever
means and influence we possessed, we have
done whatever we could for God and for
Christ's sake," — then will the closing days of
life be to us as the beginning of heaven ; and
when the world begins to recede from our
eyes, our hearts will be filled with the peace
which passeth all understanding.

I speak unto you, therefore, young men,
that ye may become strong ; that the word of
God may abide in you, and that ye may over-
come the wicked one. Love not the world,
neither the things that are in the world. For
all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh,
and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is
not of the Father, but is of the world. And the
world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but
he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.

LECTURE II.

SELF-EDUCATION.

u Get wisdom ; get understanding Take fast hold of instroo*

ticn; let her not go ; keep her, for she is thy life." — Prov. iv. 5, 13.

MY subject for this evening is self-educa-
tion. The word is often applied to the acqui-
sition of knowledge alone, but we now give it
a more extended and more important applica-
tion. Not only the intellect needs to be edu-
cated, but also the tastes, the affections, the
manners, and the character. There is diver-
sity of talents, of gifts, and of opportunities.
It is our duty to use those which we have, to
the best advantage, and thereby to secure their
enlargement.

The majority of young men in this country
are led, either by necessity or choice, to entei
upon the active duties of life with an imper-
fect education, and comparatively unformed

SELF-EDUCATION. 31

in character. In older countries a greater de-
gree of development is required in advance;
but in this new and vigorous land, it is enough
if one is able to do the task which immedi-
ately devolves upon him. He is then set to t
work, and is very often kept so constantly em-
ployed, that it requires a good deal of resolu-
tion to find either time or inclination for any
thing else. | There is a strong temptation to
give up the leisure time which comes, either
to natural indolence or to frivolous amuse-
ment. If the temptation is yielded to, the re-
sult is constant deterioration of character;
and, instead of educating himself, the young
man is soon diverted from the best purposes
of life, and brought under influences which for-
bid either his moral or intellectual elevation.

The great fault of the young under such cir-
cumstances, as -we have already said, is the
want of a fixed aim, and of resolution in keep
ing it. There is a want also of self-reliance
They too readily yield their own principles and
purposes to those around them, and instead
of forming themselves after the model which

32 SELF-EDUCATION.

^they held before them at first, they suffei
themselves to be formed by others. It is here
that the importance of self-education is seen.

The young should begin with a standard of
excellence before them, to which they should
resolutely conform themselves. There should
be a fixed determination to make the best of
one's self, in whatever circumstances we are
placed/ Let the young man determine, that
whatever he undertakes, he will do well ; that
he will make himself master of the business
upon which he enters, and always prepare f
himself for advancement by becoming worthy_J
of it. It is not opportunity of rising which is
wanting, so often as the ability to rise. It is
not the patronage of friends and the outward
helps of fortune, to which the prominent men
of our country owe their elevation, either in
wealth or influence, so much as to their own
vigorous and steady exertions. We hear a
great many complaints, both among young
men and old, of the favoritism of fortune and
the partiality of the world ; but my observa-
tion leads me to believe, that to a great extent

SELF-EDUCATION. 33

those who deserve promotion obtain it. Those
who are worthy of confidence will have confi-
dence reposed in them. Those who give evi
dence of ability and industry will find oppor-
tunity enough for their exercise.

Take a familiar illustration. A young man
engages in some business, who is in every re- /
spect a beginner in life. A common-school /
education is all that he can boast. He knows
almost nothing of the world, and very little of
the occupation on which he has entered. He
performs his duty from day to day sufficiently
well, and does what he is expected to do. But
it does not enter his mind to do any thing be-
yond what is required, nor to enlarge his ca-
pacities by reading or reflection. He is, at
the best, a steady, plodding man, who will go
forward, if at all, very slowly, and will rise, if
at all, to no great elevation. He is not the
sort of person who is looked for to occupy a
higher position. One opportunity of advance-
ment after another may come directly in his
reach, and he asks the influence of friends to
push him upward. They give it feebly, be-
3

34 SELF-EDUCATION.

cause they have no great hope of success, and
are not confident in their own recommenda-
tion. As. a matter of course, some one else,
more competent or more earnest, steps in be-
fore him, and then we hear renewed com-
plaints of favoritism and injustice. Such an
one may say in his defence, that he has been
guilty of no dereliction of duty ; that no fault
has been found with him, and that therefore
he was entitled to advancement. But this
does not follow. Something more than that
may reasonably be required. To bestow in-
creased confidence, we require the capacity
and habit of improvement in those whom we
employ. The man who is entitled to rise, is
one who is always enlarging his capacity, so <
that he is evidently able to do more than he is
actually doing.

In every department of business, whether of
the mechanic or merchant, or whatever it may
oe, there is a large field of useful knowledge,
which should be carefully explored. An ob-
serving eye and an inquiring mind will always
find enough for examination and study It

SELF-EDUCATION. 35

may not seem to be of immediate use ; it may
have nothing to do with this week's or this
year's duty; yet it is worth knowing. The
mind gains vigor by the inquiry, and the hand
itself obtains greater skilfulness by the intelli-
gence which directs it.

The result is all the difference between a
mere drudge and an intelligent workman ; be-
tween the mere salesman or clerk, and the en-
terprising merchant ; between the obscure and
pettifogging lawyer, and the sagacious, influ-
ential counsellor. It is the difference between
one who deserves to be, and will be, station-
ary in the world, and one who, having deter-
mined to make the best of himself, will con-
tinually rise in influence and true respectabil-
ity. This whole difference we may see every
day among those who have enjoyed nearly
equal opportunities. We may allow some-
thing to what are called the accidents of social
influence, and the turns of fortune. But after
all fair allowance has been made, we shall find
that the great cause of difference is in the men
themselves. Let the young man who is be-

36 SELF-EDUCATION.

ginning life put away from him all notions of
advancement without desert. A man of hon-
orable feelings will not even desire it. He
will rather shrink from engaging in duties
which he is not able fairly to perform. He
will first of all secure to himself the capacity
of performing them, and then he is ready fo?
them whenever they come.

The truth of what I have now said will be
admitted by most persons, with application to
the business in which each one is engaged.
It will be admitted that the young mechanic
or the young merchant should inform himself,
as soon and as thoroughly as possible, in the
whole range of the occupation in which he has
embarked. Every one can see the direct util-
ity of this. But when a larger application is
given to the same principles, it is often disput-
ed. It is thought quite unnecessary for those
who belong to- the working world to trouble
themselves about general information, or to
educate themselves beyond their immediate
walk in life. There is almost a prejudice
against one who devotes much attention to

SELF-EDUCATION. 37

subjects of art or science, or general literature,
as though such occupations were inconsistent
with the ordinary routine of business life.

Nor would I meet this prejudice by too pos-
itive denial. I am willing to allow that he
who has his own way to make in the world,
must fix his eye intently upon some one ob-
ject of pursuit, and not suffer his mind to be
distracted from it by any thing else. That
must be his work in life, to which every other
pursuit must for the time be subordinate.
Particularly is this true to the beginner. His
heart must be in his business. He must lay
hold upon it with a grasp that nothing can
loosen. He must attend to its smallest de-
tails, in preference to things which are in
themselves a thousand times more important.
For the present duty is always that which
must be performed. We cannot excuse our-
selves for its neglect because it is insignificant
or disagreeable, nor because something else
more pleasant and seemingly more profitable
offers itself. Especially when we are em-
ployed by others, under an arrangement to do

38 SELF-EDUCATION.

a specific work for which we receive compen-
sation, we are bound to perform every part of
it faithfully, although to our own loss and dis-
comfort. We have no right even to improve
ourselves at the expense of those whom we
serve. Nor are we wise if we suffer ourselves
to be diverted from the occupation which we
have deliberately chosen, for the cultivation of
taste or the acquisition of knowledge.

He who neglects his Coke upon Littleton
for the beauties of Shakspeare may be com-
mended for his taste, but will never do much
as a lawyer. He who loves the books in his
own library so much, that he turns over the
books in his counting-room with disgust, may
become a scholar, but not a merchant. What-
ever is our occupation, therefore, particularly
while we are young, should be made our chief
work. It should stand first in our thoughts,
We should never neglect it for the sake of any
incidental advantages, however great they may
appear. But in all this there is nothing in
consistent with the work of self-education,
This steadfastness of purpose, this close adhe

SELF-EDUCATION. 89

rence to a fixed plan of life, is in itself a good
discipline, both for the mind and character.

Let us make our work a part of the general
plan of duty and self-improvement, and we
can bring under the same plan all other things
which tend to the same result. There is no
necessity of one part of our duty interfering
with another. Rightly done, the proper per-
formance of each part will help all the rest.

I know the objection which immediately
arises, when any plan of self-education is pro-
posed. It is the want of time. But, gener-
ally speaking, it would come nearer the truth
to say " want of inclination." Very few per-
sons are so burdened with work that they can-
not find one or two hours in the day at their
own command. It requires, indeed, some res-
olution to use such time according to a regu-
lar plan of self-education ; but in that case we
ought not to plead the want of time, but of
purpose. The proper and judicious use of one
hour a day is enough to make any of us well-
educated men in the course of a few years.
Make the trial faithfully, and you will be as-

40 SELF-EDUCATION.

tonished how much can be accomplished in
that one hour a day. Some of the profound-
est scholars and most voluminous writers in
the world, have confined themselves to their
study but two or three hours daily. The rest
of their time has been given to the active pur-
suits of life.

There is, undoubtedly, a part of the year in
which young men cannot find the hour of
which I now speak. There is a part of the
year in which they are overworked as if they
were beasts of burden. It is a pity, and it
seems to me wrong that it is so. It is often a
permanent injury to their health, and such
seasons of overworking leave them in a state
of body and mind most unfavorable for the
work of self-improvement, when the time for
it is again allowed. He who has been thus
crowded and overladen for two or three
months, is apt to feel, when the burden is
thrown off, that he can relish nothing but
frivolous amusements or complete idleness.
Thus, a few months' excessive working be-
comes an excuse for wasting the leisure time

SELF-EDUCATION. 41

of the whole year. But it needs no argument
to show the folly of this. When every mo-
ment is occupied with work, we cannot be
blamed for having no leisure. But when the
work ceases and the leisure comes, it should
be all the more diligently used. The great
majority of young men in this city have their
evenings to themselves, if nothing more, dur-
ing seven or eight months of the year. Let
one half of that time be spent with a view to
self-education, in the acquisition of knowledge
and in the improvement of the mind, and how
great a revolution would be wrought by a few
years in our city. What a noble class of
young men would then come forward to oc-
cupy the prominent places in society. How
quickly would all the interests of science, of
literature, of art and philanthropy, flourish
among us. The foolish and wicked dissipa-
tions of city life would rapidly decline, and the
moral wilderness would blossom as the rose.

We do not deny the necessity of amuse-
ment and of recreation. Neither bodily nor
mental health can be secured without them.

42 SELF-EDUCATION.

But if our recreations are judiciously selected^
we shall find time enough for them, without
interference with more important things.

It is when we make a business of pleasure
that it becomes hurtful. It is when we seek
for amusement in the haunts of dissipation, or
with wicked companions, that it becomes sin-
ful. A sensible man can find time enough
and ways enough for all the recreation he
needs, without encroachment upon the real
work of life. I have, indeed, met with a few
instances in which persons are kept so con-
stantly at work that they have almost no time
to themselves. I know young men who,
through a greater part of the year, are so over-
tasked, that when the Sunday comes they
have heart for nothing and are almost fit for
nothing, except sleeping or idleness, and who
decline coming to church because they cannot
keep awake. In such cases their employers
are guilty of great sin. But they are the ex-
ceptions which serve to show that it is very
different with the majority. With nearly all
there is time enough for the common work of

SELF-EDUCATION. 43

the day and for needful recreation, and a sur-
plus of one or two hours at least for self-im-
provement.

We again admit that the proper use of that
hour or two requires a resolute purpose. It
must often be done as a duty, rather than as a
pleasure. But it may be done, and by those
who take the right view of life it will be done.
The end in view is worth striving for. It is
to make ourselves intelligent, thoughtful, and
well-educated men.

It is to raise ourselves above mere servants
and laborers into a position of influence and
growing usefulness. It is to make men of
ourselves, and to fit us for the duties which
men alone can do. If I could induce all who
hear me to spend the evenings of this coming
winter with a direct view to self-education,
they would have reason to thank me for it all
the rest of their lives. The result of the whole
ife would be thereby changed, for this is a
work which, once entered upon, will not be
abandoned.

He who begins to grow in knowledge and

44 SELF-EDUCATION.

refinement will continue to advance, because
he learns to love the pursuit. I ask you,
therefore, to think carefully upon this subject.
Do you not need this self-education ?

Are you satisfied to remain as you now are?

Can you not see that your usefulness, your
happiness, and your real respectability would
be indefinitely increased, by devoting a part
of each day to the acquisition of knowledge
and the improvement of your mind ?

None can be so blind as not to see this ; a
great many are too indolent to act accordingly.

But, first of all, as the beginning and foun-
dation of all improvement, is the distinct ac-
knowledgment of its necessity. To acknowl-
edge it in general terms, is not enough. It
must be felt. As we feel the necessity of food
when we are hungry, so must we feel the ne-
cessity of improvement, before we shall suc-
ceed in gaining it. The young are prevented
from feeling it, chiefly by two causes ; some-
times by self-conceit; sometimes by having
too low a standard of excellence before them.
We are apt to think better of ourselves in ear-

SELF-EDUCATION. 45

ly life than at any subsequent period. As we
grow older and wiser we feel our deficiencies
more, for it requires a certain degree of knowl-
edge to know how much is to be learned.
Our ideal of excellence also remains low until
the mind and character are developed. Thus,
from the two causes together, we are easily
satisfied in youth with attainments of which
in after years we would feel ashamed. This
same experience we go through, most proba-
bly, whether we are scholars, or men of busi-
ness, or men of the world. Accordingly you
will find many young men, who account
themselves complete merchants and accom-
plished gentlemen, when in fact they are but
beginners, and perhaps give but a bad prom-
ise for the future in either department.

It requires a great deal to make an accom-
plished gentleman. It is not only to wear
good clothing in a way which shows that one
is used to it, or to be free from awkward-
ness in manners, although this is something.
There must be an accomplished mind. There
must be delicacy of feeling and refinement of

46 SELF-EDUCATION.

taste. For all this will show itself in the
manners of a gentleman. Without it there
may be a kind of polish, — that which the
dancing-master and the clothing-store can
give, — which is the highest ambition of many
persons to attain. Many a dapper and spruce
young gentleman is as proud of its attain-
ment, as if it were a sufficient passport to per-
fect gentility; but it is not so. To be an ac-
complished gentleman, one must be a thinking
and well-educated man. No external polish
can take the place of the thoughtful mind
which gives a manly expression to the fea-
tures, and the refinement of taste which be-
stows grace and gentleness upon the deport-
ment.

In like manner does it require a great deal
to make a complete merchant. Merely to buy
and to sell, to know how to make a shrewd
bargain, to understand the quality of the com-
mon articles of merchandise, is very far from
being all. All of this may be learned by one
who cannot speak his own language correctly,
and who has no conception of the real uses of

SELF-EDUCA11UN. 47

trade. Commerce is the great civilizing agent
of the world. Let it work as it ought to do,
hand in hand with knowledge and virtue and
religion, and it is the messenger of peace and
good-will among men. The merchant who
understands the nobleness of his calling, occu-
pies a position far above that of mere buying
and selling. He cannot be narrow-minded ;
he cannot stoop to the mean and tricky con-
trivances, by which men overreach each oth-
er. He is not contented merely to make
money and to spend it. He takes a large
view of society and its interests. His inter-
course with different parts of the world frees
his mind from prejudice, and prepares him to
receive light from whatever quarter it may
come. He feels it to be his duty to introduce
into the community where he lives, all the
means of improvement which are found else-
where. Thus regarded, commerce becomes an
nterchange of ideas as well as of goods. But
to make it so, those who conduct it must be
men of intelligence, of refinement, and of truth.
The young man who enters upon such a ca-

48 SELF-EDUCATION.

reer should feel respect for his calling. He
should determine to qualify himself by self-
culture, by the acquisition of knowledge and
the practice of virtue, to become a complete
merchant, to rise to the head of his profes-
sion. No man need to have a more honorable
ambition than that. It will task all his pow-
ers ; it will give room for the exercise of his
best faculties and for the use of his highest
attainments. How sad it is to see so many,
with such a career before them, contented to
remain all their lives with no higher ideas than
to write a good hand, or to make a close bar-
gain! There is no scholarly profession better
calculated to enlarge the mind and elevate the
character than the pursuits of commerce ; yet
they are often debased to the most pitiful uses,
and those who engage in them often remain
through their whole lives ignorant and uned-
ucated.

To prevent such a result the young man
who enters upon this career should take him-
self in hand. He should place his standard
of excellence very high, and use all the means

SELF-EDUCATION. 49

in his reach to attain it. Chiefly through self-
culture, in the daily acquisition of knowledge,
and by a manly and honorable course of life,
he should make himself worthy of his calling,
and of the highest honors it can bring. How
different will be the whole tenor of his life, if
he enters upon it with such views as these !
How easy will it be to resist the enticements
of pleasure and the allurements of vice! With
what instinctive disgust will he shrink from
low associates and the vulgarity of dissipa-
tion. With such an end in view, how easy
will it be to find time for reading and oppor-
tunity for self-improvement.

With such a purpose in his heart from day
to day, he is secured from the temptations to
which youth is chiefly exposed, and has only
to press forward to secure the highest reward
which a true ambition can ask.

We might go through nearly the same

ourse of remark with regard to the mechanic.

The mere workman does not seem to occupy

an elevated place in society ; although, if he

does his work well and conducts himself with

4

50 SELF-EDUCATION.

honesty and sobriety, he occupies a place of
usefulness and is worthy of respect. By the
force of character, if he has no other advan-
tages, he may work his way to confidence and
to high estimation among men. But there is
no necessity of his remaining a mere work-
man. In this country, as large and as good a
field of action is open before him as before any
other. If he has the natural ability and will
use the opportunities of improvement offered
to him, he may rise to as great height as he
can reasonably desire. Look at the triumphs
of art and the perfection to which the science of
mechanics has been brought in our day. Look
at the names which society delights to honor>
in this country and in England, and see how
many are of men who began at the work-
bench or at the forge, and who, by the appli-
cation of their minds to the work in which
they engaged, carved for themselves a way to
distinction and usefulness. The name of
"mechanic" has long ceased to be one of so-
cial contempt. Let the young mechanic learn
to be a thinking and observing man, and he

SELF-EDUCATION. 51

will find as easy and as rapid progress in the
world as through any other calling. There is
certainly nothing in work itself to degrade the
mind ; but, on the contrary, we are more apt
to find the development of practical and sound
udgment in the workshop than in the study.
Only let the same pains be taken to improve
the mind, and the workingman would have
the advantage. We admit, as we have al-
ready done, that it requires strong resolution
in one who has been closely employed all day,
to turn his attention to the work of self-culture
at night. But it is certainly not impossible
nor impracticable, for many do it ; and my ob-
ject in speaking is to inspire such resolution in
those who hear me. If it were a thing that
could be done without effort, it would proba-
bly be not so well worth the doing.

There never was a country or an age, in
which greater opportunities were offered to
young men than our own. The age is one in
which all the elements of advancing civiliza-
tion are at work. Our country is, perhaps, the
only one in the world which offers a fair and

52 SELF-EDUCATION.

equal field for the competition of all who enter
upon it. There is every excitement for the
young man to lay hold upon his work in life,
with the vigorous determination to make the
most of himself and to play his part in the
world manfully. Society places no obstacles
in the way of his advancement. There are no
serious difficulties to be overcome, except in
himself. If he remains obscure and useless, it
is his own fault. If he fails to become a well-
educated and influential man, it is not for the
want of opportunity, but of industry and en-
terprise.

Look particularly at the position which our
own city occupies, and see if a young man
could reasonably ask a nobler sphere of action,
or better opportunities of self-advancement,
than are offered here. In this great Western
valley, which is destined to become the garden
of the world, and will contain in itself a great-
er population than that of the whole United
States at this time, our city is one of the chief
points of 'nfluence. By a remarkable growth
it now contains nearly a hundred thousand in-

SELF-EDUCATION. 53

habitants, and every thing indicates that its fu-
ture increase will be as rapid as the past. We
shall have no reason to be surprised if in a few
years its present number is doubled. A grand
system of internal improvement is now begun,
by which, if we take hold of it as we ought,
this city will become the centre of a com-
merce as great as that of our largest Eastern
cities now. In ten years' time its railroads
will stretch from the sources to the mouth of
the Mississippi, and from the Atlantic to the
Pacific Ocean. The imagination loses itself
in the grandeur of such enterprises ; but they
seem _ chimerical only because they are so
great. They are perfectly practicable, for the
resources at command are equal to the work,
and the benefits realized at each advancing
step will secure their ultimate completion.

A prudent man may hesitate to say what
the West and its leading cities will become,
for fear of being accounted visionary. But I
doubt if any expectations have been formed
so sanguine that they will not be accom-
plished and surpassed.

But with the possibility of such a future

54 SELF- EDUCATION.

before us, what manner of men ought those to
be to whom the vital interests of society are
intrusted? In what manner shall they do
their part now, so as to secure the prosperity
for which we hope, and prepare themselves to
meet its responsibilities ? What kind of
young men are needed in an infant city which
promises to grow to such a robust manhood ?
It is not those who spend their time in the
tavern and at the billiard -table ; not those
whose best ambition is to make a good figure
in the ball-room and the dance; not those
who pride themselves in their dress and equi-
page ; not those whose only ambition in life is
to become rich ; but we need those who, keep-
ing themselves free from idle dissipation, begin
their career with frugality and honorable in-
dustry, and, in every step of their progress,
take pains to educate themselves, to develop
their minds, to mature their character, to
strengthen their judgment; so that, as their du-
ties in life become more important, they will
be able to perform them with faithfulness.
We need young men who have an honorable
ambition in life ; determined to be useful ac-

SELF-EDUCATION.

55

cording to their ability, and to increase their
ability by diligent self-culture and the prac-
tice of virtue. Give us a class of young men
such as this, and what a glorious future ours
would be. For I would again say, it is upon
the young men that it chiefly depends. The
older and wealthier portion of the community
may do their part ; but the tone of society,
the intellectual and moral character of our
city, ten or twenty years hence, depends chief-
ly upon those who are young now. Almost
every thing that is needed for the moral and
intellectual growth of this community is yet
to be done. A beginning is scarcely made.
Institutions of almost every kind are yet to be
founded, or, if already begun, need to be fos-
tered and strengthened. In every department
of philanthropy, of religious and moral enter-
prise, laborers are needed. But still more than
this. There is need of a more elevated pub-
lic opinion, of greater refinement of taste, of a
higher standard of morality, of more profound
respect for religion. We need an army drawn
out in battle array against the six hundred
bar-moms of the city* and against the thou-

56 SELF-EDUCATION.

sand demoralizing influences so busily at
work among us. Where shall we find the
growing strength that is needed against the
growing evil, except in the vigor of youthful
manliness ? Where shall we find recruits for
that peaceful army, except among young men,
whose own interests are chiefly in peril ?

Finally, let us remember that the chief in-
fluence which every one of us exerts is the in-
fluence of character. This is an individual
work, and it is the most important work that
any one of us can do. We do it faithfully, in
proportion as we keep ourselves from the pur-
suit of folly, from the commission of sin; in
proportion as we grow in excellence and use-
fulness ; in proportion to our attainment of
the Christian graces and to our practice of the
Christian virtues. Young men, what motive
is wanting to secure your diligence and faith-
fulness, when the very same course of life will
conduct you to self-respect, to honor among
men, and to the approbation of God ? There
fore, get wisdom, get understanding. Take
fast hold of instruction ; let her not go ; keep
her, for she is thy life.

LECTURE III.

LEISURE TIME.

" See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, n
deeming the time." — Eph. v. 15, 16.

THE great difference between young men,
with regard to the work of self-improvement,
comes from the different manner in which they
employ their leisure time. The working day
is very much the same to all. A specific task
is to be done, and the motive for its faithful
performance is so urgent, that it is not likely
to be neglected, except by those who have al-
ready taken a good many steps towards be-
coming worthless. But in the manner of
spending their leisure time, the greatest possi-
ble difference is found, and from this, in the
course of years, proceeds almost the whole dif-
ference among men. He who spends his lei-

58 LEISURE TIME.

sure time well, is an improving man ; he who
spends it badly, is one who will remain sta-
tionary or go downward.

By leisure time, we mean, chiefly, the even-
ing and the Sabbath. For although, during
the day, there are a great many hours quite
idle, the etiquette of business is understood to
forbid the young man to do any thing with
such unemployed time, except to lounge about
the store or stand upon the pavement. I am
not able to perceive the necessity of this ; but
as the rule is universal, I take for granted that
it is founded on right. Otherwise, I should
suppose that it would be far better both for
employers and employed, when perhaps five
or six young men have almost nothing to do,
for several months in the year, that they should
be encouraged in some regular plan of self-im-
provement ; but having no practical knowl-
edge upon the subject, I do not venture to ex-
press an opinion.

The leisure time of which we speak at pres-
ent, is that which young men have entirely at
their own control. It does not belong to the

LEISURE TIME. 59

business hours, and they may use it to good
or bad purpose or to no purpose, just as they
please. From the manner in which they
please to use it, I repeat, the ultimate differ-
ence in their characters and their prospects in
life will chiefly depend.

This may not at first be admitted. Young
men are apt to think that, if their working
hours are well employed, it is no matter what
becomes of the rest; that it is their own time,
for which they are responsible to nobody.
But they will discover, before life closes, that
they are responsible for it to their own con-
sciences and to God. The sum of their re-
sponsibility and the result of their whole lives,
for good or evil, depends upon this more than
upon any thing else.

We grant that a single evening, whether
idled away or well used, is no very great mat-
ter ; yet perhaps that single evening may
bring the commencement of a long train of
vices, which ends in complete ruin. We grant
that a* single Sunday, devoted to amusement,
may have no great influence upon the general

60 LEISURE TIME.

character ; yet that one day misspent may be
the first step towards a life of irreligion. But
it is not of single violations of duty that we
are now speaking, nor of the manner in which
we spend the leisure time of a single day. I
speak of the habit of life. How are your even-
ings generally spent ? To what employment
is your Sunday generally devoted ? Answer
that question for a year, and I will tell you,
with almost absolute certainty, whether you
are growing better or worse in character ;
whether the tendency of your whole lives is
upward or downward. Answer that ques-
tion for a series of ten years, and we need
nothing else to determine the degree of your
real respectability and usefulness in the
world. If I am to decide upon a man's char-
acter, I desire to know nothing more than
this, — How are his evenings and his Sun-
days passed ?

It is for the want of paying regard to this,
that we are so often deceived in the real char-
acter of business men. We see one, for in-
stance, who is every day punctually at hit-

LEISURE TIME.

61

work, and who, through all the business hours,
is found in his proper place. He is attentive
and industrious there, and we pronounce him
a good business man and repose unlimited
confidence in him. All at once, we find that
his character is rotten at the core. He abuses
our confidence, neglects our interests, and
proves altogether unworthy of trust. We are
completely astonished at such a development.
We speak of it as if it were a sudden change
of character, for which it is impossible to ac-
count. But if we had known, for several
years before, to what pursuits his leisure time
was devoted, we should have anticipated the
result, long before it* actually came. There
probably has been for many years some cor-
rupting influence, some vile habit of dissipa-
tion or self-indulgence, by which the character
has been gradually undermined ; and although
the fall itself seerns to be sudden, the causes
which led to it have long been at work. Our
knowledge of the world should teach us never
to put great confidence in any man's virtue or
honesty, unless we know to what pursuits his

62 LEISURE TIME.

leisure time is given. Then it is that his real
tendencies show themselves. Then it is, when
no longer under the external pressure of busi-
ness, that he acts himself out most freely ; and
if you find that his tastes are then depraved,
that his pleasures are low, that his compan-
ions are dissipated or vulgar, you may mark
him as an unsafe man, who, sooner or later,
will prove himself unworthy of respect or con-
fidence.

Take, for illustration, two general plans of
life in the employment of leisure time. We
need not select extreme cases, either of good
or bad, but such as are met with in every day's
observation.

There are many who, when the day's work
is over, are guided by no particular rule with
regard to their evenings. They have no feel-
ing of duty upon the subject. To get rid of
the time in some way, so that it may not be
tedious, is their only thought. A half-hour or
/more they idle about their hotels in very un-
profitable conversation and in laughter, which
is apt to be loud in proportion as the cause

LEISURE TIME. 63

which excites it is objectionable. Thence they
stroll in groups of two or three together, per*
haps to some stylish saloon, either with or
without the intention of drinking, but gener-
ally it results in their " taking something," and
with some other groups, engaged in the same
employment of killing time, the conversation
becomes still more unprofitable and the mirth
more boisterous. The billiard-room or bowl-
ing-alley demands their next attention, and
there, perhaps, the rest of the evening is spent;
or if not, the transition is to some other amuse-
ments of about the same grade. Occasionally
a little improvement is made upon this, by
giving the evening and a great part of the
night to the ball-room, where there is at least
the refining influence of ladies' society, and,
generally speaking, the absence of vulgarity
and dissipation. Occasionally the concert-
room affords a more refined and unobjection-
able employment, or the theatre mingles with
the entertainment some elements of instruc-
tion and intellectual enjoyment. Occasion-
ally, when these different resorts become tire-

64 LEISURE TIME.

some or too expensive, or when some particu-
lar temptation comes in the way, the evening
is given to what is called a frolic, in which the
elements of sin are mingled far enough to give
piquancy and novelty to the entertainment,
without awakening the severe reproaches of
conscience.

Such is the history of the evening. We
have not spoken of intemperance, of gambling
and licentiousness, for these do not come till
afterwards. We are speaking only of that
mode of life into which young men fall, be-
cause they have no particular rule of conduct,
no fixed principle of life. Their Sundays will
be in general of the same sort, with perhaps a
greater touch of respectability, resulting from
their early associations with the day. They
rise very late ; spend an unusual time over
the newspaper ; devote three or four hours to
novel-reading, and two or three more, perhaps,
after the dinner hour has been prolonged as
much as possible, to an afternoon ride, in the
progress of which it will be strange if some-
thing very much like dissipation does not oc-

LEISURE TIME. 65

cur. Sometimes, but probably at long inter-
vals, they find leisure to visit a church ; but
they do not feel quite comfortable there : for
if the minister is faithful, he touches their con-
sciences too much, and if not faithful, he is
sure to be dull ; so that their visits become less
and less frequent, until they completely cease.
Sometimes they find their way to their count-
ing-rooms or other places of business, and ei-
ther by themselves, or with some customer,
who has been introduced at a side door, they
devote a few hours to their ordinary week-day
work. Sometimes, and more frequently as
time progresses, they join regular pleasure- par-
ties, which, upon the steamboat or elsewhere,
are contrived for the profanation of the Sab-
bath upon a large scale.

We have not here spoken of an extreme
case, although tolerably bad. You will find a
great many such, among those who call them-
selves respectable and moral young men
You will also find a great many who are no
longer young, but whose children are growing
up around them, the history of whose Sundays
5

66 LEISURE TIME.

and other leisure time is very much what has
now been given.

The question we have now to ask is, What
must be the effect of such a manner of life up-
on the whole character? Take a series of
years, and what must be its influence upon
the mind and heart? Is a man likely to grow
better under this discipline, or rather this want
of discipline, or is he not quite certain to gro\\
worse ? Is he in a course of self-education
which will result in manliness of character, re-
finement of taste, true elegance of manners, or
largeness of thought? Is he likely to retain
his self-respect, his purity of feeling, or his
scrupulousness of conscience? Is he on the
road to become a useful and good man, or the
contrary ? I think that the questions scarcely
need an answer. They answer themselves, or
if not, you have only to look upon those who
try the experiment, and you will find an an-
swer to fill you with sadness and regret.

Take, then, an illustration of a different
course, and, again, take not an extreme case,
such as might never occur in real life, but such

LEISURE TIME. 67

as may be met with every day. It would be
easy to describe a manner of life entirely free
from all follies, in which not a day nor an hour
is wasted ; in which the whole energies are
devoted to usefulness and self-improvement.
But a model character like this is so rarely
met with, that it seems like an imaginary pic-
ture, and its perfection causes a feeling of dis-
couragement. As a teacher of morality, I
would not be unreasonable in exaction. It
is not well to expect too much. Something
may be allowed to waywardness and youthful
irresolution, and to the natural love of amuse-
ment.

It is well, however, sometimes to bold be-
fore us an ideal of unsullied excellence, of un-
stained purity, of undivided allegiance to duty.
It would be well for us to picture to ourselves
what a young man might become, if his whole
heart were given to the pursuit of goodness
and wisdom. If we could follow such a one,
as he resists one temptation after another, as
he adds to his daily store of useful knowledge,
as he cultivates in himself every Christian

68 LEISURE TIME.

grace and manly virtue, conforming himself
diligently to that standard of life which the
Gospel has ordained, it would be impossible
not to feel respect for the heroism of his daily
life, and admiration for the victory which he
daily obtains. Such a contemplation would
be a rebuke to our own indifference, and would
make us feel how far short we are falling of
our duty. We wonder that there are not more
who take hold of life with this spirit. We
wonder that there are so few who determine
to make the very best of themselves, to make
the most of their intellectual and moral
strength in the service of God and man. But
it is not one in a thousand, — no, nor in ten
thousand, — who can honestly say that he is
doing so. We excuse ourselves in so many
deliberate omissions of duty, we waste so
much time for the want of system in spending
it, we allow so many faults of character for the
want of resolution in correcting them, that,
even when our general intention is good, we
do not rise to one half the excellence of which
we are capable.

LEISURE TIME. 69

In our present treatment of the subject, how-
ever, while we would make things better if we
could, let us take them as they are. We do
not figure to ourselves, therefore, a model
young man, in whom there are no faults and
who never wastes an hour of his time ; but
one who is guided by prudence and a sense
of duty in his ordinary life; who takes pains
to avoid the follies and dissipations which un-
dermine the character, and to educate himself
as a man and as a Christian, by the attain-
ment of useful information. After his day's
work is done, we may leave him sufficient
time for rest and recreation. We do not limit
him too closely, as to the number of hours in
the week to be allowed for such purposes ;
only let him remember one thing, to carry his
conscience with him wherever he goes and to
whatever amusement he enters upon ; for con-
science belongs to our leisure not less than to
our working time. He keeps himself away,
therefore, from every haunt of vice. He
avoids bad companions and takes pains to se-
lect good society. If some of his time is spent

70 LEISURE TIME.

idly, no part of it will be spent badly ; and af-
ter all allowance of this sort has been made,
he will find a part of every day and a great
many hours in every week, for judicious read-
ing and study. The general purpose of self-
education is never forgotten, and more or less
rapidly the work is accomplished. His Sun-
days are spent either in good society of friends
and kindred, or in the perusal of books, cho-
sen with a view to instruction rather than
amusement; or in the performance of some
work of Christian charity and kindness. His
church will not be neglected, but, as a regular
habit, either once or twice in the Sunday he
goes there, not only as a habit, but for the
worship of God and to seek his blessing.

Surely we have described no standard of
ideal excellence here. Many would say that
it is but a tame and insufficient character,
which the pulpit ought not to hold up for imi-
tation. It is the least that might be expected
of one educated by Christian parents, and who
acknowledges his responsibility to God. Yet,
imperfect as it is, it is far above the actual at-

LEISURE TIME.

tainments of the majority of young men, and a
wonderful improvement in society would take
place if they could be elevated even to this point.

But the more important remark to be made
at present is this : That the result of such a
course of life, followed through a series of
eight or ten years, would be to elevate those
who follow it in their own self-respect and in
the respect of the community. They would,
from year to year, become more intelligent,
more thoughtful and better men. They would
be removed further and further from the influ-
ences of vice ; and would appear more and
more as the friends of virtue.

Compare them, at the end of ten years, with
that class of young men whom we described
a few minutes ago. In the beginning of their
career a careless observer would not have seen
the difference in the direction they were tak-
ing. But the two roads which lie almost to-
gether at first, rapidly diverge from each other,
until it appears that one of them has led to
worthlessness and infamy, and the other to
usefulness and virtue.

72 LEISURE TIME.

And wherein has the difference consisted?
Simply in the different use of leisure time, in
the different manner in which the evening and
the Sunday have been passed. It is the dif-
ference between two or three hours a day well
spent and the same time wasted. The whole
problem of life has been settled by those few
hours, which are generally thought of no im-
portance, and which young men are apt to feel
may be thrown away whenever they please.

The most obvious, and perhaps the most
important means of self-improvement, is read-
ing. Books are food to the mind. Well-se-
lected books, like wholesome food, impart
strength and vigor, and bring the mind to its
full growth. But as all food is not whole-
some, and we may use that which is poison-
ous or hurtful, so there is a great deal of read-
ing which is poisonous and hurtful to the
rnind.

We would not condemn all fictitious works
as belonging to this class. The taste for such
writings, whether in prose or poetry, is as nat-
ural to us as any other intellectual tendency.

LEISURE TIME. 73

Particularly wnen we are young, they are re-
ceived with a relish that no other books can
impart. A great deal of the instruction that
we receive conies in this form ; and although
we may admit that this mode of making study
attractive and learning easy has been carried
much too far, we should be quite unwise to
reject it altogether.

I cannot help saying, however, although it /
is only by the way, that the inordinate love of j
novel-reading which marks this generation 1
probably proceeds from the multiplication of
juvenile books of fiction, of which our Sunday
schools and day schools are full. One would
think, to look at them, that there is no way of
inculcating a good moral, except by clothing
it in a fictitious tale of love and danger.
Books of instruction are scarcely put into the
hands of the young, unless they are first dis-
guised. Then, like the sugar-covered medicine,
they are taken ; but unfortunately, by a per-
verse mental digestion, the medicinal proper-
ties are too often rejected and the sugar alone
retained. Even arithmetic and geography are

74

LEISURE TIME.

made to undergo a diluting and disguising
process, so as to save the young, as far as pos-
sible, from all exertion of thought. It is not
surprising that children educated in this way
refuse to read, as they grow older, except
under the same condition of being amused
These remarks, however, are leading me away
from my present subject.

We do not condemn the reading of fiction,
as being in itself wrong or hurtful. Many
books which come under this class may be
read, not only with safety, but with profit, by
almost any one. The danger arises in such
reading, first, from its engrossing too much of
our time, and secondly, from a bad selection
of the books read.

No one need expect to become a wise or
well-educated man by novel-reading As giv-
ing rest or recreation to the mind it is very
well, but not for substance of thought and
maturity of intellect.

One might as well expect to gain strength
to his body from sweetmeats and confection-
ery, as for his mind from works of fiction

LEISURE TIME. 75

The very best of them should be used as an
occasional refreshment; considered as the dai-
ly food, they are absolutely pernicious. The
young person who becomes a confirmed novel-
reader, with a work of fiction always on hand,
undergoes a process of mental deterioration
more rapidly than he is aware. You might
as well expect to make a person religious, by
the pitiful dilutions of Christianity which ap-
pear under the head of religious novels at the
present day, as to educate yourselves by his-
torical romances, — from Waverley down to
the latest of the fruitful brain of James. He
who is seeking for self-improvement will read
them sparingly.

So much may be said even of the better
class of fiction. But what shall we say of
that, whose very touch is defilement? which
we compliment if we only call it trash, and
with which to become acquainted is to bid
farewell to all purity of thought and all refine-
ment of feeling? It would be better not to
know how to read, than to read it. He who
holds it in his hand is proclaiming his own

76 LEISURE TIME.

vu garity of taste, and is doing openly that
which he should be ashamed to do in secret.
I do not fear to speak too strongly. I have
not read, if it were all told, a hundred pages
of such literature in my life ; yet I feel that
even in that a serious mistake was com-
mitted, and it would have been far better not
to have seen it. As iron-rust upon the hand,
which stays there until it wears off, so is an
impure thought suggested to the mind, or a
vile picture painted upon the imagination.
We would implore the young to keep their
hands off from such books, and to turn their
minds away from the pollution which such
books bring. If you have already learned to
enjoy reading them, you have reason to trem-
ble for your safety. For he who relishes the
record of that which is vile, is almost prepared,
himself, to be guilty of the same vileness.

To form a more correct taste in reading is
by no means difficult. At first it may require
some effort, but, like every other habit, soon
becomes easy and pleasant. Biography, his-
tory, the higher departments of polite litera-

LEISURE TIME. 77

ture, works of art and science, are within ev-
ery one's reach. At first they may seem less
attractive than the light and flashy reading,
for which they are so much neglected ; but in
a little while they become far more interest-
ing, and with every page you read, you feel
that you are taking a step in knowledge and
refinement. They may not come under the
head of amusement, .and it is not as such that
I would recommend them, but experience will
prove to you that they supply healthy recrea-
tion to the mind and prepare it for the return-
ing duties of the next day, far better than
books which produce an unhealthy excitement,
or pleasures by which the body has been fa-
tigued and the mind exhausted. It is not as
amusement that we recommend them, but as
a study, and as a means of self-education.
Time enough for amusement may be found
beside. Can we not spare one or two hours a
day, if not as a pleasure, then as a duty, in
preparing ourselves for the real work of life,
for doing our part as men and as Christians
in society. In an age like this, where knowl-

78 LEISURE TIME.

edge is almost in the atmosphere we breathe
can we content ourselves with ignorance ? In
a country where a good education is an essen-
tial requisite to respectability and in which
vulgar-minded and uninformed men find it ev-
ery day harder to rise, shall we refuse to make
the needful exertion to educate ourselves, so
as to deserve respect and to command influ-
ence ? If I am speaking to those who are in-
different to such things, my words will be in
vain ; but if you desire them, if you wish to
deserve respect, if you wish to obtain influ-
ence, if you wish to become useful by the best
exertion of your faculties, then you will be
ready to take some pains in its accomplish-
ment. You will not expect so great a result
without systematic and long-continued effort.

Let me therefore advise you, as your friend,
to use a part of every day for careful and stu-
dious reading. Begin, if you please, with one
hour, or even with less, but let it be done as a
duty. It will bring its enjoyment, but let it
be done as a duty.

Let your first aim be to supply the deficien-

LEISURE TIME.

79

cies )f early education. Do not smile at the
suggestion of a grammar and dictionary. I
know business men who cannot tell where the
places with which they trade are situated, and
who cannot write a commercial letter without
violations both of good grammar and correct
spelling. It would be no disgrace to them, I
think, to have Murray and Webster within
reach. To a shallow mind this may seem
boy's work, but if you will read the lives of
the most eminent scholars, you will find that
they are always learners. The best educated
man must frequently return to the rudiments
of knowledge, to see that the foundation is
well laid. How much more is such a course
needful to those who have never gone beyond
a common school education, and to whom
even that was very imperfect.

Such is the case with the great majority of
young men who enter upon business. They
are not beyond the necessity of schooling.
They need elementary instruction. They are
uninformed upon subjects upon which contin-
ued ignorance is inexcusable. They are not to

80 LEISURE TIME.

blame for this ; but they are to blame if they
take no pains to supply the acknowledged de
ficiency. There is no necessity for their re-
maining ignorant or uneducated. Nay, there
is no excuse for it. The means of self-educa-
tion are within reach of all, not only books,
but teachers, if need be, and the only thing
wanting is sufficient resolution and industry
to use them.

As to the choice of books and the course of
reading to be followed by each one, no gen-
eral rule can be given. This must depend
upon the taste and previous education of each
individual. But every young man should
have some method, both in the choice of
books and in using them. Beside his lighter
reading, which is partly for amusement's sake,
let him always have some one book, at least,
or some one branch of study, to which his
careful attention is every day directed. He
will reap from this a double benefit; first, in
his direct improvement, in the discipline of his
mind and in the acquisition of knowledge ;
and secondly, by the employment of time

LEISURE TIME. 8J

which might otherwise hang heavily upon his
hands or be devoted to idle amusements,
which lead to worse than idle results. He
would also find himself, by such a course, re-
moved from the worst temptations to which
the young are exposed. Bad companionship
in idle hours is the common way to ruiri. But
he who is daily elevating his mind, by reading
and study, will soon lose the taste for such
companionship. He will find no pleasure in
vulgarity or dissipation, and no sympathy with
those who are guilty of them. He will avoid
the bar-room and gambling-table, as much
through good taste as through good principle.
He will therefore at the same time feel less
temptation to do wrong and find greater en-
joyment in doing right.

To secure this result, however, he must add
to his daily reading one book, which by many
is thought old-fashioned, but which is not yet,
thank God, out of print. It is the cheapest
book in the world, and from whatever point
of view we regard it, the best. It is the book>
the Bible. Considered as history, it is the old-
6

C« LEISURE TIME.

est and best authenticated ; considered as po-
etry, it is the noblest, the most original and
exalted ; considered as a system of morality,
it is absolutely perfect; considered as religion,
it is sufficient both for time and eternity.

Set aside, if you please, all thought of its
divine authority, and regard it as you do other
books, according to its intrinsic worth, and
you will find that it deserves frequent perusal
and careful study. Yet I fear that many per-
sons have almost no acquaintance with it, ex-
cept that which comes from the dim recollec-
tions of childhood. Its very sanctity repels
them. But if they do not read it as the rev-
elations of God and as a religious duty, it
should be read for its own sake.

The book of Proverbs contains enough prac-
tical wisdom to carry any man successfully
through the world. Seneca and Franklin can-
not be read with one half the profit, even with
egard to the conduct of this life alone. The
young man who reads a chapter of it every
day, will find that folly and sin become an up-
hill business. The book of Job is a key to the

LEISURE TIME.

83

mysteries of Providence, as we see them all
around us. The Prophecies, although ob-
scure and difficult, fill the mind with pictures
of heavenly glory and reveal to us the judg-
ments of God.

But above all, the New Testament, to those
who know how to prize simplicity of style and
grandeur of thought, is an inexhaustible fund
of instruction and delight. The character of
Jesus Christ, if we could regard it simply as a
historical fact, apart from its religious bear-
ing, is worthy of never-ending study. It is
the only perfect character ever delineated. If
it were a fiction it would be wonderful ; being
true, it is miraculous. His words come to us,
as a breathing from heaven. His life opens
to us an acquaintance with heavenly exist-
ence.

Yet I believe, that, with the exception of
those who have been led by religious experi-
ence to place their hopes of eternal life in the
Gospel, there is no book which is estimated
so far below its real and intrinsic merits as the
Bible. I commend it to your reading, if not

84 LEISURE TIME.

as a religious duty, as a means of self-educa-
tion, for the refinement of your taste and for
the general elevation of your character.

But consider it as a religious duty, and it
still belongs to the work of self-education.
He who hopes to attain the full development
of his mind or true manliness of character,
without religious principle, is under a mistake.
Knowledge is very important; but one sin
will degrade you more than a great deal of
ignorance. Sobriety, chastity, purity, and
truth are elements of growth to the mind, not
less than to the heart. They ennoble a man
in this world, while they prepare him for the
future ; and these are the virtues which relig-
ion inculcates. It exalts us above all corrupt-
ing and impure associations, and therefore, if
considered only as a means of self-improve-
ment in the present time, it should never be
neglected. The irreligious man is in danger
of becoming a low-minded and selfish man,
even if he avoids being wicked.

But I would not rest the cause of religion
here. Not for a moment would I leave it

LEISURE TIME. 85

upon so low a ground. It appeals to us and
belongs to us, as immortal beings. It com-
mands us to make the most of ourselves here,
in mind, in heart, and in life, because we must
soon pass from Time to Eternity, carrying
with us the result of our conduct here. In
such a view, how completely worthless do all
earthly considerations seem ? What matter
whether we are rich or poor, learned or igno-
rant, so that we are rich in good works and
wise unto salvation ?

But a part of our duty towards God is to
improve the talents committed to us, for the
promotion of his glory and for usefulness
among men. Infuse, therefore, into all your
efforts for self-improvement a relig:ous spirit.
This will bestow dignity upon the employ-
ment, it will give steadfastness to your pur-
pose and crown your efforts with success.

LECTURE IV.

TRANSGRESSION.

" Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not fa. th* ny *T evil
men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass iwt > " -Proy.
iv 14,15.

NOT long ago, perhaps a year or more, I
was accosted in the street by a man, whom at
first I did not fully recognize. His voice, how-
ever, recalled him to my mind. I had not
seen him for nearly two years, although we
had both been living in the same city during
all that time, and we had formerly been upon
terms of intimate friendship. His hand was
cold and tremulous ; he was not intoxicated,
but his step was unsteady, like that of an old
man, and his form slightly bowed, as if under
the weight of threescore years. His features
were bloated^ his eye dull and unsettled. He
seemed unable to look stead:'ly upon any ob-

TRANSGRESSION. 87

ject, and the expression of his face was like
that of one suffering under some heavy care or
some great disappointment that he was de-
sirous to conceal. There was an effort to as-
sume a hearty and cordial manner, and the
grasp of the hand and the first words of greet-
ing seemed like his manner of ten years be-
fore. But it was an effort that could not long
be sustained. Assumed indifference and the
evident sense of real mortification soon took
its place. His dress was shabby and careless-
ly worn, showing that the world had not dealt
kindly with him. He seemed glad to see me,
shook my hand again and again, as if he had
forgotten each time that he had done it be-
fore ; promised to come to my house, which,
however, he evidently did not intend to do ;
asked me to visit him, but although I prom-
ised it, he evidently supposed it would never
be done, and seemed greatly relieved when the
interview was ended. And so was I. But it
left matter upon my mind which occupied me
many hours after. His form kept coming
back to me, an unbidden presence, reproach-

88 TRANSGRESSION.

ing me that I had not done more to save him
from that sad condition. A few days after-
ward I went to see him at his room, and tried
to renew our old acquaintance. I spoke to
him earnestly and plainly, as I had often done
before, and he promised, with tears in his eyes,
that he would reform. Only a week after-
ward I again met him in the street, so intoxi-
cated that he did not know me. And when
two or three months had passed, I was called
one day to see him on his dying bed, and then
to follow him to an unhonored grave.

Was this the end to which he looked for-
ward, when he first came to this city ? Was
this the natural and right conclusion of a youth
full of promise, of a manhood which began
with bright hopes and sanguine expectations ?
If, on the day when he left his father's house,
" a younger son to go into a far country," the
dream of such a future had visited him, — the
vision of a premature old age, of years spent
friendless and despised, of the death-bed in
an alms-h Difse and the burial at public charge,
• — if such a vision had come to him when he

TRANSGRESSION. 89

received his mother's blessing, or to ner when
she gave it, it would have been better for them
both to be stricken down by the hand of death,
than to look upon it. Yet the reality came,
and that which would have been too fearful to
think of became the history of his life.

And how did it come ? By what avenues
did the tempter find entrance into a heart rich
in good affections, into a mind well stored
with good and pious thoughts ? I remember
him now as he was, sixteen years ago, when
he first came to this city. Among all whom
I knew, I could not, perhaps, have selected one
whose life seemed to give a more certain prom-
ise of an honorable and useful career. The
glow of health was upon his cheek, his eye
sparkled with the vigor of intelligence, his step
was firm, his whole manner was that of one
who had resolved to do a man's work man-
fully. He was then but little more than twen-
ty years of age, fresh from all the good influ-
ences of a Christian home in a quiet Christian
community, unstained by the world's corrup-
tions, ignorant of life's temptations. But his

90 TRANSGRESSION.

resolutions were so strong and his opportuni-
ties so good, that there seemed as little danger
for him as for any one. How terrible the
change that fifteen years produced.

If I could trace that progress, step by step,
— if I could show how it was that his virtu-
ous resolutions began to yield, and the stain
of corruption to spread upon his soul, it would
be an instructive, although a sad narration.
But the heart knoweth its own bitterness.
We cannot enter into the hidden experience
one of another. We cannot tell how the
temptation comes, even to ourselves, and we
often fail to recognize its presence until we
have yielded to its power. The influences of
evil are working in the heart, long before they
come to outward observation. When we be-
gin to see them, the ruin is too often already
accomplished.

With regard to him of whom I have now
spoken, I did not know when his steps began
upon the downward road. He seemed to be
prospering in business, for the first two or
three years was found only in good company,

TRANSGRESSION 91

and was evidently taking his place among
men as a good and useful citizen. I have
since thought, that perhaps his progress was
so much more rapid than he had anticipated,
and the position he held so much higher, that
he was deceived into a false security. Per-
haps he thought himself already removed from
danger, and that he might safely yield to
temptation, a little way, without fear of fall-
ing. Soon after, some reverses in business
occurred which slightly embarrassed him, and
some disappointments in social life which
soured his disposition. The habit of occa-
sional conviviality, formed in the time of pros-
perity, now brought a feeling of relief and
daily became stronger. His place at church
was more frequently left vacant, and his place
at the bar-room more frequently filled. He
was not himself aware of any danger, until,
his business suffering more and more, he be-
gan to perceive that friends were falling away
from him. Partly by the sense of shame, and
partly by the feeling that he was unjustly dealt
with, he was led to acquaintance with those

TRANSGRESSION.

who were, in character and social position, far
beneath him. Their influence upon him was
in every way bad. Some of them were tlm-e
determined drinkers, those veterans in the
ranks of intemperance, who are scarcely ever
intoxicated, yet never sober, and who care very
little how many others fall over the precipice,
while they themselves remain in comparative
safety. Under their influence his decline was
rapid, and soon ended in vain tears of repent-
ance, in sadness and despair.

It is a common story ; a thing of every
day's occurrence. Since I began to speak, if
you have asked yourselves whose history it is,
if you have tried to remember some one to
whom it would apply, you have probably
thought of many whose career, although not
identically the same, has been equally sad.

Perhaps none of those whom I address
know any thing of the person to whom I have
referred ; for the record of his name and of his
burial-place has already passed from mem-
ory. But similar instances you have all
known, or may see every day going on to-

TRANSGRESSION. 93

wards the fatal, the inevitable conclusion. In
conversation with a friend a few days since,
who is himself still a young man, he informed
me that more than half of the companions
with whom he began his active life, ten or
twelve years since, have already come to a
disgraceful death or to a dishonored and
worthless life. Is it not dreadful to think of
such things ? Is it not enough to frighten a
young man from his self-confident security, to
see how many of those who have gone before
him, in the very same path, have fallen never
to rise again ? Has he a safe-conduct from
some higher power, by virtue of which he may
go to the brink of ruin and return uninjured ?
Is it the mark of wisdom to risk every thing
that makes life dear, health and friends, honor
and usefulness, virtue and religion, self-respect
and the favor of God, for the sake of those
vulgar but enticing pleasures by which the
young are so often betrayed ? There is a
warfare in which discretion is the better part
of valor. Even if we gain the victory, we
return without honor and without praise,

94 TRANSGRESSION.

" Therefore enter not into the path of the
wicked, and go not in the way of evil men ;
avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass
away."

The paths which lead to ruin, although they

'gradually converge and become the broad and

I fatal " way that leadeth to destruction," are at

I first very various. The first departures from

{ virtue are very slight, the first habits of sin

seem to be in themselves scarcely sinful.

There is some pleasant name by which they

^ are called, some plausible excuse by which

they are allowed. But by a little pains, we

can mark the principal stages by which the

1 downward progress is generally made.

First of all is the INTOXICATING CUP. With
ninety-nine in a hundred, that is the beginning
whose end is death. Those who begin with
the strict rule of temperance, and adhere to it,
seldom throw themselves away in sinful pur-
suits. Generally speaking, if the young man
can secure himself in this bulwark of safety,
all the enemies of his soul will be successfully
resisted. His passions will remain under his

TRANSGRESSION. 95

own control, unless they are heated by wine,
and his eye clear to see the things which are
for his own good, unless clouded by the fumes
of strong drink. But when he has put an \
enemy within his mouth to steal away his '
brains, influences which a child should be /
strong enough to resist become too strong for ^
him, and he yields both body and soul to their
power. He may think that it is very little he
has taken, but a very little is enough to ob-
scure the judgment of a young head and to
pervert the desires of youthful blood. He may
imagine that he was never more perfectly him-
self, his thoughts may seem to him more than
usually clear, his step may have strength and
buoyancy, there is just enough pleasant ex-
citement to make his heart glad ; but in all
this he is prepared to say and do things from
which perfect sobriety would shrink, and of
which the soberness of to-morrow's thought /'
will be ashamed.

Young men ! I would warn you from that
sparkling cup, — not only because it is a first
step, which may lead you, as it has led, this

96 TRANSGRESSION.

very year now drawing to a close, fifty thou-
sand in our own country, to a drunkard's
grave, — but I warn you from it, because even
from the very first it opens all the avenues of
your heart to the temptations under which sin
is committed. There is scarcely a sin against
which you need a warning, so long as the
blood flows equally in healthy channels ; but
when it is quickened by the liquid fire, the
power of temptation is increased, while the
strength to resist it is lessened. Sin puts on
allurements which do not belong to it, and by
which its deformity is concealed. The quiet
pleasures of a virtuous life appear tame in
comparison, and the disordered imagination
fills the chambers of guilt with illusions of
beauty, which the experience of guilt will soon
destroy.

If it were, therefore, certain that you could
indulge yourselves with safety, so far as the
danger of intemperance is concerned, you
would be exposing yourselves to other dangers
equally as great. I appeal to you if this is
not true. I ask you if you have not already

TRANSGRESSION. 97

gone far enough to know its truth ? Let it be
granted that it is impossible for you ever to
become a drunkard ; have you not already ex-
perienced that by the daily or occasional use
of intoxicating drink you expose yourselves
to many bad influences, from which you
would otherwise escape, and commit many
sins both in word and deed, which you would
otherwise avoid ? From what cause come
wasted time and low companionship ? What
is it that betrays you into extravagance and
foolish debt? By what means did you fall so
easily into Sabbath-breaking and profanity ?
How did you learn to speak so lightly of re-
ligion and to laugh at the scruples of virtue ?
What influence has brought the sacredness of
female innocence into contempt? and how has
it come to pass that, instead of the nobler
ambition of your early days, you are now so
eager for pleasure, so greedy for excitement?
Can you tell me ? Have you thought of this ?
You feel very sure that you will never be a
drunkard ; but are you equally sure that the
foundation of your virtue is not already sapped,
7

98 TRANSGRESSION.

that the springs of your moral and relig-
ious life are not already corrupted? Make
the trial. Begin this day and continue for
twelve months the plan of strict, absolute tem-
perance, and you will be astonished to find
how greatly the change of that one habit wil
change the tenor of your whole lives. You
will have more time to yourselves; you will
feel a greater desire of improvement ; the de-
formity of vice will appear more plainly, and
the excellence of virtue ; your nobler ambition
to be a useful and honored man will return ;
and before many months have passed, you will
be astonished to see how far upon the road to
ruin you had gone, and how difficult it is, even
now, to retrace your steps. If you doubt my
words, make a trial of them for your own sake.
It can certainly do you no harm, and if at the
end of twelve months you find that you are
neither better nor wiser for the experiment, it
will be easy to abandon it. But you will not
find it so. Make the experiment for twelve
months, and if you are capable of learning
from experience, you will hold to it till the end
of life.

TRANSGRESSION. 99

This view of the subject is very important
and needs to be carefully considered. Young
men are every day ruined from the want of
perceiving it. They convince themselves, as
there is no difficulty in doing, that there is no
danger of their ever becoming drunkards ; and
having done this, they excuse themselves in
the habit of daily drinking, as if no other harm
could come from it. A great and fatal mis-
take. From the very beginning it does harm.
If it is only an occasional glass, if it is only
the glow upon the cheek and the quickened
pulse, produced by indulgence in wine at the
supper-table of a friend, it is a wrong done, an
injury inflicted. The perceptions of virtue are
made dull, the rebukes of a tender conscience
are silenced by such a habit from the very
first. When the hour of perfect sobriety
comes, the young man blushes to remember
the words spoken and the acts of freedom of
which he was guilty the night before. Con-
sider this, I beg of you, and as you prize an
unsullied conscience, let not the cup of intoxi-
cation come near your lips.

100 TRANSGRESSION.

But how do you know that you are so safe?
How do you know that you can walk in the
path which leads to intemperance and yet
never reach its end? Who gave you that
safe-conduct, by power of which you may go
to the brink of ruin, and looking over gaze into
that fiery gulf and then return uninjured? Un-
injured, you cannot return. That is impossi-
ble. But how do you know that you will re-
turn at all ? Is it because you are so strong,
— because you are always able to do what
you say you will do ? Men equally strong
have fallen and are falling into that ruin every
day. Is it because your motives to good con-
duct are so urgent on the one side, and be-
cause, on the other, you care so little for the
intoxicating draught that you are sure you can
give it up at any moment you please ? It is
only the delusion of Satan. Trust not to it.
Your relish for that hateful cup is becoming
stronger, although you may not know it. It
may soon become so strong as to be a craving
of your nature. It will be not only a sinful
habit, but a physical disease. Your resolu-

TRANSGRESSION. 101

tions become daily more weak and the strong
will gradually loses its power. The motives
for good conduct may continue or may grow
stronger as the danger increases ; but what are
motives, to him whose feverish blood craves
the drink which has already set him on fire ?
What to him are family and friends, or wife
and children, or his own good name and self-
respect, or health and life itself? What to
him is the hope of heaven or the fear of hell ?
The drink which he craves he must have, and
although he hates it, " he will seek it again."

Look at that man whose dress betokens that
he is, or has been, a gentleman, and whose
manners show that he is not yet quite brutal-
ized. He staggers in the street, and because
you have known him in his better days, you
take his arm, and, half supporting him, go with
him towards his home. You hear his maudlin
talk and look into his lack-lustre eye, and won-
der if that can be the same man whom you
knew a few years ago in the pride of man-
hood, successful in business, beloved by his
friends, honored by society. What motive

102 TRANSGRESSION.

was wanting to keep him in the right path?
By what compulsion was he driven to a con-
dition like this ? You go on with him, for it
is not far, until you are near his house ; the
effects of inebriation become stronger ; he stag-
gers so heavily that you can scarcely support
him, and when he has come to his own door,
it is with difficulty he stands. The door is
opened, and what is it you then see ? Do you
talk of motives now ? It is his wife and chil-
dren who come forward to receive him. They
know the whole truth ; for it has been so
many times before. His wife is still young
and beautiful, but you see that her beauty,
which you remember as it was a few years
ago, is fading away under the influence of a
wife's mortification and a mother's care. His
daughter, already growing into womanhood,
looks with half wonder and half disgust, and
does what she is bidden to do to help her fa-
ther. The younger children gather round, but
quickly see that no caress is waiting for them
there. And this is the drunkard's home. Do
you talk of motives now ? Do you not see

TRANSGRESSION. 103

that the habit of intemperance is like the robe
with which Hercules was betrayed to clothe
himself, and which he could not tear off, be-
cause it clung to him, a burning and a raging
fire, until he was dead ? It is but an allegory
of drunkenness, and the strong man who sub-
dues the Nemean lion is himself subdued, the
victim of Intemperance.

But let your contempt be mingled with pity
f :>r him whom you left but now, in his miser-
able home. The day has been when, in the
very agony of spirit, he knelt down and prayed
to God, with vows that seemed registered in
heaven, and with tears streaming from his
eyes, while he promised that he would never
again yield to temptation. You would have
had hope for him then ; but it lasted a few
weeks, and the promises were broken. Merci-
ful God ! who knowest the weakness of our
nature and the deceitfulness of our hearts, keep
us away from temptation ; save us from the
trials which may be too strong for our virtue !
Leave us not to our own devices, but save us
with a strong hand, and guide us by thy Spirit

104 TRANSGRESSION.

in the way of everlasting life ! And thou
young man, trifle not with your own soul.
Pray that you may not be led into tempta-
tion. " Look not thou upon the wine when
it is red, when it giveth its color in the cup,
when it moveth itself aright. At the last it
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an ad-
der."

But among those who hear me, are there
not some whose minds suggest an answer to
the appeal now made, and who therefore can-
not feel its force ? It is very well, they may
say, and it is right for you as a minister of the
Gospel to speak in this manner and advise us
to keep out of temptation. We acknowledge
the danger, and do not claim to be stronger
than others who have fallen. You say that it
is disgraceful for a young man to be a daily
visitor at the bar-room, and we have often felt
it to be so. But when we first went there, it
was not of our own seeking. It was in per-
formance of our duty. Our employers required
it of us, or we knew that they expected it, and
there was no way of avoiding it. Even now,

TRANSGRESSION. 105

it is a pert of our regular employment to visit
such places in search of customers, or to carry
them there for the sake of keeping them in
good humor and securing their patronage. If,
therefore, the habit grows upon us, and we
learn to continue it for our own sake, we do
not well see how to avoid it. We must either
run the risk or lose our places.

What shall we say to this ? I wish that it
could be denied, as a slander against the good
name of this community, but it contains too
much truth. I have known it to be true in
many instances. There are some houses, so
I am credibly informed, that have a contingent
fund to defray the expenses incurred by their
young men in this miserable pursuit of Busi-
ness. In others, the same thing is done in a
less systematic way, but quite as effectually,
and there are comparatively few in which it is
absolutely forbidden. The young man is ac-
counted valuable, and receives promotion, in
proportion to his success in bringing custom-
ers and in selling to them large bills ; although
it is perfectly well known by what arts of per-

106 TRANSGRESSION.

suasion it is accomplished. A merchant said
to me a few days since, " If it goes on in this
way, every house will need, not only a buying
partner, and a selling partner, and a counting-
room partner, but a drinking partner, to make
it successful." If that were all, I would not
complain so much. If men would do this
work for themselves, it would only be another
instance of a man's endangering his soul for
money ; but to send the young and inexperi-
enced upon this bad errand, is a wrong beyond
endurance. There can be no sufficient excuse
for it. If the continuance of trade requires it,
then is trade an accursed thing, in which no
honorable man should engage. The competi-
tion, which leads to it is unmanly, and the
prosperity gained by it is disgrace. But we
do not believe it. We confidently deny the
necessity of resorting to such means, under
any circumstances. Every respectable mer-
chant should positively prohibit their use ; and
every respectable young man should positively
refuse to be made the instrument of pandering
to the vices of others, at the risk of his own

TRANSGRESSION. 107

virtue. Some temporary loss may be incurred;
by adhering to such principles ; but any loss
is better than that of self-respect. Pardon rne
if I speak too plainly, and " he that hath ears
to hear, let him hear."

Another way to ruin is found in the viola-
tion of the Lord's day. I spoke, last week, of
the wasted Sunday as a hinderance to self-
improvement I speak of it now as a sin, the
consequences of which are ruinous to the soul.

I am not what is commonly called a strict
Sabbatarian. My ideas concerning the Lord's
day are neither Jewish nor Puritan. " The
Sabbath was made for man, not man for the
Sabbath." Its superstitious observance either
by the individual or by a community is not to
be desired. Yet I have no doubt that the day
was intended to be held sacred from the com-
mon uses of the week. If we are disposed to
doubt this, experience and observation will
prove it. If you devote it to your ordinary
occupations, as a working day, or to the pur-
suit of pleasure, as a holiday, it will become
to you a frequent occasion of sin, and both

108 TRANSGRESSION.

your mind and your character will suffer.
This is partly because we need the refresh-
ment of occasional rest from our ordinary
pursuits, and one day in seven is not too
much. It is needed equally by the mind and
the body. Our affections need it to prevent
their becoming dull or morbid ; the judgment
is more healthy and the thoughts more clear
by a respite from labor. The eagerness of
social ambition is restrained, and the compar-
ative value of the different objects of pursuit
more justly discerned.

This is the ordinary influence of the Lord's
day, considered as a day of rest from our
common labors, and without regard to its relig-
ious uses. Nor is there a community on the
face of the earth which needs its restorative
influence more than our own. I have some-
times thought, that if it were not for the Sab-
bath day, upon which we stop working, from
motives of respectability if from no other, one
half of us would go crazy, through the rest-
less eagerness of our industry. In the breath-
ing time which Sunday gives, we recover the

ri .1ANSGRESSION. 109

exhausted strength, and return to our work
with a spirit somewhat chastened and more
free from unhealthy excitement. As business
men, therefore, we lose nothing, but gain a
great deal, by turning away from ordinary
pursuits and resting from them one day in
seven. There is no command of God's re-
vealed word, which receives a more perfect
confirmation from our own experience than
this : " Remember the Sabbath day to keep
it holy."

If you will consider it as giving time and
opportunity for religious improvement, its im-
portance still more fully appears. It is the
time for meditation, for serious reading and
for prayer. I do not mean that every hour of
it must be so used, but that this use of the
day should be prominent in our thoughts.
None of us can safely dispense with it. Our
religious progress will be slow, and our es-
trangement from God will become greater
every day, unless some portion of the Sunday
is regularly given to its religious uses. The
young person who neglects these has no rea-

110 TRANSGRESSION.

son to be surprised to find himself becoming
more and more irreligious. If he sets any
value upon religion, if he does not wish to
free himself altogether from the restraints
which religion imposes, if he does not wish
to make complete shipwreck of his religious
hopes, then let him give a part of the Lord's
day to the house of prayer, a part of it to
his Bible, and a part to serious reflection.
This is not asking too much ; it may seem
too much to those who have no higher object
in life than to eat, drink, and be merry ; but
not to those who have any nobleness of char-
acter left, nor to those who believe that our
chief duty here is to prepare ourselves for
the future.

The profanation of the Lord's day to the
purposes of amusement, seems almost to
bring a special judgment upon those who are
guilty of it. I do not mean by any outward
punishment, but by the injury done to them-
selves, in their own moral and religious life.
It generally precedes, if it does not mark, the
decline of virtue and the growth of immoral-

TRANSGRESSION. Ill

ity. We may well be surprised at the extent
to which this is true, until we look at the in-
fluences to which such a use of the day gen-
erally exposes us. It brings us into low asso-
ciations. Sunday amusements are generally
of a vulgar kind, and must be enjoyed, if at
all, in vulgar companionship. Those who
are seeking for a better respectability will not
join in them. They are kept away by regard
to their reputation, if not by higher principles
If we seek them, therefore, our associates
must be those who are more likely to relish
vice than virtue, and whose influence upon us
will be of the worst kind. The influences of
the day, instead of being the best, become the
most pernicious of the whole week ; instead
of being consecrated to God, it is made the
occasion of sin. We have no reason, there-
fore, to wonder at the evil result. By famil-
iarity with vulgar scenes, by friendship with
vulgar associates, by separating ourselves
from refined and religious society, we may
go downward just as rapidly as we please.
Thus it is, that what is called Sabbath »

112 TRANSGRESSION.

breaking becomes so great a sin. Thus it often
becomes the introduction tc every vice, and to
many young persons is the first step towards
their ruin. It places them in a position where
all the " fiery darts of the wicked " reach
them. You may call the observance of the
Lord's day a ritual observance, if you please,
but it is inseparable from religion itself. It is
inseparable from morality. If you neglect it,
if you become a confirmed Sabbath-breaker,
turning your feet away from the house of
God, and devoting its hours to pleasure-seek-
ing, your pleasures will soon become dissipa-
tion ; even your respectability will be on the
wane ; your ideas of right and wrong will be
more and more unsettled, and your soul itself
is lost. I commend it, therefore, young men,
to your serious consideration. Do not set it
aside as a mere usage, which in itself is
neither right nor wrong. Use it well, and it
will become to you indeed the Lord's day,
diffusing through the whole week a sanctifying
influence, making your whole lives an accept-
able service to Him. If you waste it or pro-

TRANSGRESSION. 113

fane it, no one can measure the extent of the
evil which may follow. Upon the Sabbath,
therefore, even above all other days, remember
u not to enter into the path of the wicked, not
to go in the way of evil men. Avoid it, pass
not by it, turn from it, and pass away."

Among the evil habits by which many
young men are ruined, \ve must mention the
sin of gambling. It is a subject upon which
I have had almost no opportunity of observa-
tion. I must speak of it, therefore, with diffi-
dence, because, so far as facts are concerned,
my knowledge goes but little way. But I am
told by others, that the evil to which we now
refer exists among us to a great extent. 1 am
told that it is a common habit among young
men, both upon a small and a large scale. Oc-
casionally I hear of those who lose more money
in this way than they can afford; and at longer
intervals, some marked instance comes before
us, with a notoriety which ends in infamy,
of those who have been betrayed by the gam-
ing-table into dishonesty towards their em-
ployers and into their own ruin. We also heai
8

114 TRANSGRESSION.

sometimes, but are almost unable to believe
it, that among the most respectable and influ-
ential men, gambling is a usage, and that
those who, by their position in society, ought
to set an example of the strictest morality, are
exerting hereby a fatal influence. For such
things, although they may be done in a corner,
are sure to go abroad. They become a part
of our moral atmosphere. It is breathed by
the young man, whose principles are yet but
imperfectly formed, and taints his moral
nature. The necessity of virtue seems less
urgent, the hideousness of vice becomes less
hateful. The responsibility which rests upon
those who stand at the head of society, by
whatever cause they are placed there, cannot
be exaggerated. They would do well to con-
sider it more maturely. If not for their own
sake, then for the sake of those who look to
them as an example, and in whose eyes they
are making wickedness respectable, they
should discountenance this, as well as every
otner form of social iniquity.

But our business at present is with the

TRANSGRESSION. 115

young themselves ; with those whose visits to
the gambling-table have as yet been lew, and
who have not yet experienced its worst influ-
ence. If the habit is already confirmed, they
are probably beyond the reach of our influ-
ence ; for of all sinful habits, there is none
whose enticements are so alluring to those
who have taken the first step, none which
binds around its votary cords more difficult
to be broken. We address ourselves also to
those by whom the first step has not yet been
taken. Upon them, chiefly, an influence may
be exerted. With all the earnestness we are
capable of using, we implore them to keep
away from the gaming-table. As they love
their souls, as they value their peace of mind,
yes, as they prize their common respectability
in the world, let them keep away.

The evils of gambling are so many, that I
scarcely know how to enumerate them. First,
and unavoidably, it leads the young man into
the worst of company. The game of chance
is a complete leveller. For a time there may
be a vain effort of exclusiveness, but it will

116 TRANSGRESSION.

not continue long. Very soon he is upon
terms of intimacy with those whom he de-
spises, and who despise or hate him in return.
Again, from the very first, an unhealthy ex-
citement is produced, not so much an excite-
ment as a fever of the mind. It often grows
to a delirium, under which all self-control is
lost, an intoxication worse than that of drunk-
enness itself. It is at such times that one is
betrayed into dishonesty, when he stakes upon
the turn of a card money which he must dis-
honestly steal, before he can honorably pay
He scarcely knows what he is doing ; wher
it is done, he is as much astonished as we are
to hear of it ; but it is then too late. A step
taken upon that road is followed by another
and another, until discovery and ruin overtake
him.

To the beginner at the gaming-table, the
intoxicating cup is always made an adjunct
of the evil, and thus one temptation is in-
creased by the other. The confirmed gam-
bler, indeed, is shrewd enough to keep himself
sober. If he drinks freely, it is because he

TRANSGRESSION. 117

has inured himself by long habit, so that he
does not feel its influence ; but generally, he
takes only enough to lead others beyond their
depth. A confirmed gambler, therefore, is
seldom a drunkard. Bat with the tyro it is
quite different. He lacks nerve for his new
employment. He feels a little ashamed of him-
self; he is acting a part which he is not used
to; he feels timid and hesitates; and for all
such feelings, wine is a panacea; or, by some
beverage more ingeniously contrived, he is
soon brought to a degree of self-confidence
which makes him feel quite at home. How
great does the peril now become ! He goes
downward at an increasing pace. Late in
the evening, he returns home with a feverish
brain, but with a heart already heavy as lead,
and on the morrow curses the day on which
he was born.

Again, the habit of gambling, whether on a
large or small scale, develops the worst feel-
ings of a man's nature. It makes him cold
and selfish and distrustful. He learns to hate
those whom he calls his friends, for their gain

118 TRANSGRESSION.

is continually his own loss. He regards them
with suspicion, accuses them of unfairness,
thinks that they are overreaching him and
endeavors to overreach them in return. Un-
der such a discipline all frankness of char-
acter gives way ; all scrupulousness of con-
science disappears ; mean and tricky subter-
fuges are resorted to, and each one becomes
guilty of that of which he suspects the other.
A great deal is said about debts of honor, but
the principal debt is that incurred in one's own
soul by the loss of honor itself.

[u The purchase of lottery tickets is one of
the worst species of gambling which any man
or woman ever engaged in. It has all the
temptations and excitements, and offers more
inducements, than the Faro-bank or the Rou-
lette-table. There are but few persons who
have engaged in the purchase of lottery tick-
ets that have not continued to pursue it, and
with many it becomes a passion as fearful as
any in the catalogue. It is tempting, because
it requires but a small sum to commence, and
the drawing of one or two numbers is suffi-

TRANSGRESSION. 119

cient to lure the victim on. The excitement
is great, from the amount of gain in prospect,
and the duration of the suspense. At the
gambling-table, the money is down, the stake
must bear some proportion to the amount to
be won, and a few turns of the cards, or
throws of the dice, decide it. But not so in
this lottery business. A dollar, or a few dol-
lars, invested in lottery tickets, will, if success-
ful, enrich the holder with as many or more
thousands. From the moment of the pur-
chase until the announcement of the result of
the drawing, he lives in a state of painful and
improper excitement. At one moment, golden
visions dance before the distempered brain,
and fancy pictures the possession of thou-
sands ; the next, all is lost, and the holder is
the victim of every species of ill-fate and mis-
fortune.

" There are two classes of the community
who are peculiarly susceptible to the influence
of this evil excitement, and upon whom the
reports of special good fortune, on the part of
a few, are calculated to have a most pernicious

120 TRANSGRESSION

influence. They are the young, and females.
They are both desirous of the enjoyment of
wealth, independence, and fortunes. They
are susceptible of the influence which such re-
ports carry with them. They can see no rea-
son why they may not be as lucky as anybody
else, and, once in the vortex, they are ruined.
A failure, or partial success, but induces
further trials; and thus they go on, step by
step, until their money is exhausted, their
honor and every thing sacrificed to a depraved
and unreasonable passion."*]

In what I am now saying, I again acknowl-
edge that I speak from theory more than ob-
servation. In these departments of life, my
opportunities of observing are very small.
But the little I have seen, interpreted under
the general principles of human nature, justi-
fies all that has been said. If so, my appeal
cannot be too earnestly made. Keep away

* The above extract is taken from the leading editorial of
the St. Louis Republican, Nov. 20, and is here introduced, al-
though not in the Lecture delivered, as indispensable to the
subject discussed.

TRANSGRESSION. 12l

from the gambling-table. Nay, keep away
from the places where it is spread. Do not
by your presence there give countenance to
that great iniquity. Do not, for the sake of
a transient pleasure, suffer your name to be
enrolled among those who are guilty of this
sin. Even if you refrain from it yourself, you
are giving your patronage to those who live
by it, and you are thereby committing a grave
and serious offence against society. Do not
answer, that you must have some amusement.
It is not so needful, that you must commit
sin or endanger your virtue in its pursuit.
Let your hearts be set upon something better
than amusement, upon self-improvement and
a useful life, and you will find ways of recrea-
tion without entering " upon the path of the
wicked, or going in the way of evil men."

My time is already more than exhausted,
and with it my own strength, and I fear your
patience. Yet there is one other topic upon
which I must speak, before closing. It is a
subject the most difficult of all, requiring at
the same time plainness and delicacy in its

122 TRANSGRESSION.

treatment. I must trust to your own thoughts
to supply my deficiency; and to your own
love of virtue, that a right direction to your
thoughts may be given

41 So dear to Heaven is saintly CHASTITY,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angels lackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt ;
But when lust,

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,
Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
The soul grows clotted by contagion,
Embodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose
The divine property of her first being."

When speaking upon the same subject,
Solomon asks, " Can a man take fire in his \r
bosom, and his clothes not be burnt ? Can one
go upon hot coals, and his feet not be burnt?"
Again the Apostle Paul says, " Know ye not
that your bodies are the members of Christ ?
Shall I then take the members of Christ, and
make them the members of a harlot ? God
forbid ! What, know ye not that your body
is the temple of the Holy Spirit which is in

TRANSGRESSION. 123

you, which ye have of God, and ye are not
your own ? If any man defile the temple of
God, him shall God destroy; for the temple
of God is holy ; which temple ye are." In
hearing such words, we feel that our bodies
are sacred, and that we have no right to pro-
fane them by the defilement of sin. We
should avoid impurity of thought and of ac-
tion, as we avoid contagion and death. No
grave for the soul can be dug so deep, as that
in which it is buried by licentiousness.

Of all the influences in society, calculated i
to purify and elevate man's character, that of
virtuous arid well-educated women is perhaps
the strongest. From the hallowed precincts j
of the domestic circle, it drives away all sinful
pleasure; in the intercourse of social life, it I
makes virtue attractive and sin hateful. It
touches the soul to its gentler issues, and be- j
stows a grace upon whatever is noble in
human life. An essential part of the educa-
tion of a young man is in woman's society.
He needs it as much as he needs the educa-
tion of books, and its neglect is equally per-

\

124 TRANSGRESSION.

nicious. Every one knows that it is a good
trait in a young man, to be fond of ladies
society. I do not mean, to become what is
technically called a ladies' man, which is very
frequently another term for foppishness and
effeminacy, and by which many make them-
selves objects of just contempt; but I mean
that he who can enjoy the refined pleasure
which comes from female society is not
likely to enjoy himself in the haunts of dis-
sipation.

But in proportion as she exerts a good and
purifying influence when well educated and
virtuous, her influence becomes pernicious if
her character is perverted. When frivolous
or heartless, she turns many from good ; when
wicked, she is the most successful minister of
ruin. The best things perverted, become the
worst. Take from the air we breathe one of
its component parts, and a single breath of it
causes death. Take from woman's charac-
ter her love and practice of virtue, and her
presence becomes death to the soul. He who
betrays her from her innocence is not less

TRANSGRESSION. 125

hateful in the eyes of God, than the serpent
who brought sin into Paradise. He who is
upon terms of friendship with her after she is
betrayed, unless for the purpose of restoring
her to virtue, is helping her to sink lower in
her degradation, and himself goes down with
her to the gates of hell.

How does such an one dare to come from
the scenes of iniquity to the society of the
pure and good ? How does he dare to touch
the hand of her whose face expresses the beau-
ty of innocence ? As when Satan stood
among the sons of God, we say to him,
" Whence comest thou," and what place have
you here? His own sense of shame should
keep him away ; or if he comes, he should be
driven away with scorn. I know that it is in
part woman's own fault, for very often when
she knows full well whence he cometh, she
welcomes him with smiles ; but in doing so
she is a traitor to her own sex, and stains her
own purity. It is disgraceful to society that
men, for whose description every English word
is too vulgar, and over whose conduct a veil

126 TRANSGRESSION.

is thrown by calling them
admitted even in the highest circles upon
equal terms, yes, and often upon better terms,
with honest and honorable men.

Young men ! I would speak to you upon
this subject even more earnestly, if I dared.
I commend it to your own thoughts. He who
loses his respect for woman and his veneration
for woman's virtue, is sinking very fast; he is
travelling very rapidly towards ruin. I appeal
to each one of you, therefore, by the love
which you bear to your own mother, or by the
sacredness of her memory, by the tender af-
fection which you feel for your own sisters,
and by the indignation which would fill your
hearts, if any one were to approach them with
an impure word or look, — I appeal to you by
the respect which you cannot help feeling for
the innocence and purity of womanhood, — to
keep your own purity of character and to avoid
this worst contamination of sin.

Alas! how many are the dangers that threat-
en you ! What watchfulness, what energy of
purpose, do you need ? The ground upon

TRANSGRESSION. 127

which you stand is enchanted. Perils and
snares are around you.

" Beware of all, guard every part,
But most, the traitor in your heart."

" Wherewithal shall the young man cleanse
his way? by taking heed thereto, according to
Thy word. Enter not into the path of the
wicked, and go not in the way of evil men,
Avoid it; pass not by it: turn from it, and
pass away."

LECTURE V.

THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

"And when he came to himself, he said, I will arise and go to my
father, and will say unto him, Father, I ho.ee sinned against Heaven,
and before thee. And he arose, stnd came to his father." — Luke xv
17, 18, 20.

FROM my choice of these words as a text,
it might naturally be supposed that I intend
to speak only of those who have wandered far
from the right path, and whose danger is al-
ready imminent The young man in the par-
able " went to a far country," by which is in-
dicated the degree of his iniquity ; his living
was quite wasted, and all his means of self-
support quite gone, before he came to himself.
Then, when his unwoA"thiness was complete,
and there was no other to whom he could
turn, he said, " I will arise and go to my fa-
ther" ; scarcely hoping indeed to be received,

THE WAYS OF

but having no other
despair.

How perfectly true to
er friends deserted him, that he turns"
to the home of his childhood, seeking forgive-
ness first from those whom he has most in-
jured! It is the father's house and the moth-
er's love, to which we turn as a sure haven of
rest, when the world treats us unkindly. It is
there that we are most sure to find acceptance,
however great our ill-desert. Although sinful
and degraded, friendless and outcast, we are
sure of a welcome there. Nor is there a pang
which the world's worst treatment can inflict
so severe as this thought, that in spite of all
our errors, in spite of all our ingratitude, in
spite of all our heartless disobedience, a wel-
come is ready for us there, whenever we will
return ; that a fond mother will find excuses
for us through the greatness of her love, and
hope for us through the greatness of her faith ;
that the father, although he may seem more
stern, is ready, whenever he sees us returning,
to come out and meet the penitent, " to fall
9

130 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

upon his neck and kiss him." Such is a pa-
rent's love ; so great is a parent's forbearance.
If it had not been for h;s confidence in this,
must there not have been times when the
weight of his sins would have crushed the
prodigal, when the degree of his unworthiness
would have driven him to despair ? But the
remembrance of that love which no ill-desert
could estrange awakened hope for himself, and
drew him back again to the paths of virtue.

How precious, therefore, to our souls, should
be that Gospel which reveals the ALMIGHTY
GOD, whom we have offended, as the Father
who is in Heaven! What hopes are excited
by that word, while at the same time the
greatness of our sin is made more fully to ap-
pear! For in proportion to the long-suffering
of those whom we offend is our wickedness
in offending them. But still that precious
hope returns, and if He whom we have chiefly
offended is most ready to forgive, we will yet
arise and go to our Father, and say unto him,
" Father, we have sinned against Heaven, and
before thee."

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 131

Bat need we wait until we have wandered
so far ? May we not feel the truth of all I
have said, even when our steps have gone but
a little way from the Father's house? Must
we wait until the soul is buried under sin be-
fore we attempt to rise from it? Must he
who feels the power of disease taking hold
upon him wait until the whole body is cor-
rupted, and the strength nearly gone, before he
appeals to the physician ? What then must
be the consequence, but fatal disease and
death ? If I understand the Scriptures, salva-
tion is needed by those who have gone but a
little way in sin, as well as by those who are
reaching its furthest limit. The peril may not
seem to be as great, but the saving power is
equally needed. In both cases, the principle
of life is wrong, and a radical change is there-
fore required.

The weeds which are springing up in a cul-
tivated garden may seem to be insignificant
and a few moments' care would remove them;
but small as they now are, they contain al-
ready the elements of mischief. Give them

132 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

time to grow, and it is all they need. Their
roots strike deeper, they gather to their own
pernicious uses the strength of the soil ; they
grow up rapidly, overshadowing and stunting
the growth of the worthier plant, and coming
to an early maturity, they scatter the seeds of
increasing mischief. The wind disperses them
abroad, until, in a few years, the whole garden
has lost its fruitfulness, and the neighboring
fields are also ruined. Then, if you would
eradicate those weeds, which a year ago were
so insignificant, you must strike the plough deep
and turn their roots up to the light of heaven ;
and years of patient industry will be needed
before you rid yourselves of the evil. Is it not
better to pull them up when they are but few,
and their hold upon the soil feeble ? They are
evil now, is it not better to prevent them from
becoming the parent of greater evil ? But re-
member that, whenever you take them in hand,
precisely the same process is needed for their
effectual removal. You may pull them up as
with your fingers, or the ploughshare may be
required for the work ; but, in either case, they

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 133

must be pulled up. To trample upon them
or to cut them down will not do ; the root is
still there and will spring up again. To scat-
ter good seed among them is not enough ; for
there is danger that the weeds will grow up
A fastest, and " choke the good seed," even as it
\ has been from the beginning. It may be only
the sin of occasional Sabbath-breaking; it
may be only that slight degree of dissipation
which is softened by the name of wildness or
youthful folly ; it may be only the habit of
profanity, by which no great harm is intended,
and of which, although we may acknowledge
that it is a proof of bad manners, we are not
willing to acknowledge that it is an evidence
of a bad heart ; or it may be any other of those
thousand forms in which sin makes its first
entrance into the unguarded heart ; but the

sentence is still the same, — they must be

^J
rooted out, they must be pulled up from the /

soil, if we would secure our safety.

That little fire which sin is kindling in the
soul may at first seem only to diffuse a gentle
warmth, and to bestow upon all the faculties

134. THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

an increased vigor ; but see to it, or it will be
come a raging and tormenting flame, consum
ing even your desire of goodness. It is bettei
to put it out. Extinguish it while you can. It
is an easy work now, but by and by nothing
but the miracles of God's love can enable you
to accomplish it.

There is something very pleasant, very en-
couraging, in the Scriptural expression, " when
he came to himself." It recognizes the fact
that there is a better nature within us than
that which sin develops. We are not wholly
of the earth, a part is also from heaven ; as it
is written, " God created man and made him
in his own image." It is true, that by our
own sinfulness, and through the wicked inven-
tions of the world, his image is partially ef-
faced, or covered over by so thick a veil of the
earth's pollutions, that it is scarcely discerned;
but yet it remains there, never completely lost,
never hidden beyond the hope of being again
restored. That heavenly image is the better
self. It is of God, yet it is our own. By vir-
tue of it, we claim alliance with God, and

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 135

brotherhood with Christ. If it were utterly
lost, salvation would be impossible. The
greatest sinner whom Christ ever redeemed,
when he arises from the deadly sleep and
awakens to righteousness, does but come to
himself. In the farthest land, destitute and
hungry, feeding the swine which belong to a
stranger, desiring to share with them in their
food, friendless and utterly degraded, he says,
I will arise ; he comes to himself, and at the
same time looks upward to his God. We
know how deadly are the sins of which the
human soul is capable. We know how fear-
ful its wickedness becomes. We know its
waywardness, its ingratitude, its rebellion
against God. But we thank God that there
is still a better self to which the sinner may
return. O man, my brother, in the very hope-
lessness of iniquity does not that thought bring
hope ? Thou art not all debased ; thou art
not yet utterly depraved ; scarred and disfig-
ured, changed from all the beauty which was
once thine own, something of the Divine line-
aments yet remains in thy soul. There is yet

136 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

a better self. Return to it ; in the strength
which God will give, if you ask him, say, " I
will arise and go to my Father."

But, we again ask, why should we wait un-
til the hour of extreme want, before we return
to the Father's house ? Why should we wait
until our best affections are seared, and the
purity of our souls quite lost, and our capa-
city for improvement impaired, before we rec-
ognize our true good ? Do we need that the
lesson should be so severely taught, before we
will learn it? Should it not be enough to know
that the road leads in a wrong direction, to in-
duce us to leave it? Must we go to the very
end, and only when ruin stares us in the face
be willing to retrace our steps ? Then we
shall return, if at all, way-worn and haggard,
weary of the world, wounded in the conflict
with sin, with hearts so full of sadness that we
can scarcely find room for rejoicing, and even
the hope of God's mercy will be mingled with
fears. Now we are choosing the direction of
life, and it requires only one strong resolution,
one earnest prayer, to make the direction right,

THE WAYS Ol WISDOM. 137

Or if we have already gone a little way in
the wrong path, the vigor of youth and the
strength of manhood remain, and although
some time has been lost, we may yet redeem
it ; although some stain has been brought
upon our souls, the tears of repentance will
quickly wash it oh1', and we shah1 be restored
to self-respect and virtue.

Consider this, young men, and ponder these
words with care. If I appeal to you so
earnestly, it is not because I suppose that
you have already reached that far country of
deadly sin and remorse, but that you may
save yourselves from it.

I would show you that this flowery path, in
which you are walking, is wrong in its direc-
tion, although pleasant for the time. Is there
not a struggle already going on in your hearts,
between the higher and lower principles of
your nature ? It is the great conflict, the
struggle of life and death. Let the whole
energy of a strong will be thrown into it, and
the victory will be for God and your own
souls. Wait not until evil has become the

138 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

habit of your lives, a second nature scarcely
to be changed; but prevent the formation of
sinful habits, now while it can be so easily
done. Keep yourselves from bad influences,
surround yourselves with the safeguards of
virtue. It is often better to avoid temptation
than to overcome it. The sight of evil some-
times leaves in the mind thoughts and images,
which are better not to be there. It is for this
reason that I speak so earnestly, as if it were,
as I believe it is, a matter of infinite moment.
Experience and observation both tell us, that
the elements of the same nature are in us all.
He that has gone farthest from his God went
one step at a time, as perhaps we are going
now. The lowest degradation of the worst
man living is only the result of the same
wayward tendencies, to which we are perhaps
sometimes yielding; of the same bad pas-
sions, which we perhaps sometimes indulge.
I know that the evil has not yet come in its
full force, but honestly speaking, do we not
discern its possibility ? Have we not had
enough experience of evil in our own hearts,

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 139

have we not actually done enough in our own
lives, to justify the fear of its indefinite in-
crease? What then is the course of wisdom?
Is it not to stop now while it is easy to stop ?
Is it not to change the direction of life, before
life itself is almost wasted ?

A mistake is often made in thinking of sal-
vation as something which belongs to the
future world alone, and not at all to the
present. Life is represented as if it were
only a preparation for that beyond the grave.
We forget that it has its own absolute duties.
It should have in itself a completeness ; it
should be in itself a service of God. We
have a work to do for ourselves, for each other,
and for the glory of God, which must be done
here. Even if we were sure of ultimate sal-
vation, the neglect of this present work is a
great evil and a great sin. It is a wrong
committed against God, against humanity
against our own souls. Even if we escape
from its worst consequences by repentance
before we die, it is a wrong in itself, which it
is the part of wisdom to avoid. I shall ask

140 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

you, therefore, in what remains of my present
discourse, to look at the duties of life from
this point of view. Let us consider our life
here, not as being only a preparation for the
future, but as being something in itself. Its
duties, its relations, its joys and sorrows, its
virtues and sins, are a present reality. To do
our part here well and manfully, is something
worth doing. As, therefore, with reference to
the future life and to the great salvation, we
speak of the " means of grace," by which re-
demption is obtained; so, with reference to the
present life, we speak of the means of im-
provement, the human safeguards of virtue.
These must be used, if we would make the
best of our own faculties and of life itself.
We must exercise good sense in our plans of
life, and place ourselves under the influences
which favor goodness and discourage sin.
Some of these influences we shall now con-
sider.

The first condition of good health is to
breathe a good atmosphere. If with every
breath the seeds of disease are brought to the

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 141

lungs or the heart, the body will soon show
the baneful effect, in the loss of its vigor and
strength. The influence may be very subtle,
but it is all the more irresistible. So in the
formation of character, — for the preservation
of health to the mind and the affections, to
maintain the purity of our moral nature, the
moral atmosphere must be pure. The asso-
ciations into which we are daily brought must
be favorable to virtue. The society in which
we daily live must be of a kind to elevate the
character.

It is an old proverb, that " a man is known
by the company he keeps" This is true, for
two reasons. First, because, as like seeks like,
our real tendencies are shown by the sort of
company we enjoy. If it is vulgar and dissi-
pated, our seeking it proves that we have
a relish for vulgarity and dissipation. The
man of pure feeling and refined taste does
not feel at home in such companionship ; it
gives him no pleasure and he avoids it, as
he would avoid any thing else disagreeable.
When, therefore, we see a person frequently

142 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

in such company, it is a fair and just infer-
ence that he is there because he likes it, and
therefore that he is himself of the same sort.
The proverb is true for another reason. A
man is known by the company he keeps, be-
cause, however different from it he may be at
first, he will gradually become like it, almost
whether he will or no. We are moulded by
the society in which we live, more than by
any other influence. It is the atmosphere by
which we are surrounded, it is the breath
which sustains life itself. The good man,
who goes among the wicked for the purpose
of instructing and reclaiming them to the
path of virtue, needs to be careful, lest his
own moral nature become tainted by the con-
tact. Even in his endeavors to cure them, as
sometimes with the physician who cures dis-
ease, while he is engaged in his work of
mercy the contagion may reach his own heart.
Even under such circumstances, we need the
disinfectant of God's grace to secure us from
evil. But when we enter into wicked or irre-
ligious society for the sake of its companion-

THE WAYS OF WISDOM, 143

ship ; when we seek our friends there in the
enjoyment of social intercourse ; however pure
we may be at our entrance, our doom is al-
ready sealed, and the loss of innocence and
virtue is the unavoidable result.

How can we retain our veneration for God
and for his glorious majesty, if our ears are
every moment filled with the profanation of
his name? How can we think of Christ as
our Redeemer, when the name of Jesus is a
by-word, coupled with every stale jest, and
bandied about, in anger or in sport, by those
whom he died to save ? How can we keep
any sacredness of thought, any respect for
religion, — the strong hope of heaven or the
fear of hell, — if every thing sacred is made the
subject of ridicule, or spoken of with careless
contempt, by those with whom we have the
daily intercourse of friendship? How can we
keep before us the necessity of virtue, the in-
finite value of the soul, the infinite evil of sin,
if we are daily living among those who suffer
no scruples of virtue to interfere with their
pleasures, and who can always find an excuse

144 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

for sin if it is profitable? Let your own obser
vation of the world, let your own experience of
life, answer. The instances are so few, where
young men have placed themselves under the
influence of bad companionship and escaped
its contamination, that they scarcely need to
be considered. They are exceptions to a rule
which is almost universal. The young man
may deceive himself. At first, he may sup-
pose that his principles are not corrupted ;
that he enjoys the companionship, its laugh-
ter and its fun, without partaking of its evil
spirit. He may flatter himself that the evil
which he hears and sees, only makes him love
virtue more; but he is only deceiving himself.
When the Apostle Paul speaks of wicked
men and their sins, he thus describes them :
" Who not only do such things, but have
pleasure in them that do them." To take
pleasure in the company of the wicked, is but
one step from being wicked ourselves. As a
natural and almost inevitable consequence,
the word of blasphemy will soon come from
our own lips ; the cup of intoxication will

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 145

soon be in our own hands ; the cards and the
dice will bring the fever to our hearts; and the
paths of dissipation will become as familiar
to our feet, as they are to those of our com-
panions. Is not this the natural result ? Ac-
cording to the laws of the human mind, by
the natural working of our affections, ought
we not to expect it? Is it not the actual re-
sult, of which your own observation could
bring a hundred proofs, and to which your
own experience is perhaps adding one proof
more ?

We again say that the society in which we
live is the moral atmosphere we breathe. If
it is bad, there is but one way of escaping its
bad influence, — namely, to change it. A
method of cure which requires strong resolu-
tion, but there is no other. Change it, if need
be, by withdrawal at first from all society, and
gradually obtain the friendship of those whom
you can respect, instead. The change may
require resolution, and will also be attended
with difficulties. Those whom you leave will
place every obstruction in your way ; but if
10

146 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

you act, not in a self-righteous and hypocriti-
cal manner, but with frankness and gentle-
manly courtesy, even your old companions
will respect you more, and some of them,
perhaps, accompany you in the better path.
I am inclined to think that whole companies
of young men sometimes continue in the
road to ruin, only for the want of two or three
in their number, who have resolution enough
to say, "We will stop; we will go no farther;
we will abandon this course of life ; we will
live as gentlemen and Christians ought to
live." Let a few say this, quietly but firmly,
and the hearts of many will respond. The
truth is, that all have been half ashamed of
themselves for a long time, and have been
hurried forward by each other's example, each
one wanting the resolution, rather than the
disposition, to stop. Let that resolution be
shown by a few, and others will be strength-
ened thereby, and perhaps the progress of all
will be stayed. But whether such a result fol-
low or not, the duty of the individual is the
same. If he feels within himself the strength

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 147

to stop, let him use it. Let him withdraw
from the associations in which his own virtue
is corrupted and in which he is corrupting the
virtue of others. It is not a matter of expedi-
ency only ; it is not for the sake of respectabil-
ity alone, or of obtaining a better position in
society, although this would be in itself motive
enough to a thoughtful man ; but it is the
question of virtue or vice ; it is the alternative
between a life well spent or utterly lost.

We say, therefore, to the young man who /
has been brought, either by circumstances be- /
yond his control or by his own choice, into /
the society of uneducated or vulgar or dis-
sipated companions, that the sooner he frees
himself from such influences the better, and
that he must free himself soon, or he will be
under the servitude of sin for ever. Still more
earnestly we say to those who have not yet
entered into such companionship, keep away
from it as you would avoid the contagion of
disease, the corruption of iniquity. It may
have its allurements ; its fascinations may be
many to the young and thoughtless ; the sin

148 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

committed may at first seem small; but it is
the companionship itself that brings the dan
ger, and as you value the purity, nay, the sal-
vation of your souls, it should be avoided.
So long as we are in the company of the good,
goodness is easy. Choose your companions
well, among those who have correct views of
life, who respect religion, who avoid the paths
of dissipation, and a virtuous life will be so
pleasant that you will desire no other. This
is the great safeguard of virtue. The best of
us are not strong enough to dispense with it;
to the young and inexperienced it is every
thing. Particularly in their unguarded and
leisure hours, when they seek for amusement
and recreation from toil, let the companion-
ship in which they share be good. For, as
the unwholesome air is most fatal to the body
when asleep, so is the contagion of bad exam-
ple most fatal, when the mind rests from its
serious occupations, and throws itself, in un-
guarded repose, upon the influences which
surround it. Then it is that the excellence of
virtue or the deceitfulness of sin prevails over

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 149

us, according to the company in which we
are. We should select it, therefore, with such
views, that, while we gain refreshment for the
mind, our love of virtue may be strengthened,
our tastes refined, and our desires of goodness
confirmed.

The kindness with which you have thus far
heard me, and upon which I have already en-
croached by unusual plainness of speech, will
perhaps allow me to speak of another subject,
upon which judicious advice is sometimes
needed. One of the best rules for the pres-
ervation of virtue, arid for keeping ourselves
away from temptation, is to avoid extrava-
\_xgance, to keep out of debt. Economy is a
word which, to the majority of young persons,
conveys the idea of meanness. It should
rather convey the idea of independence. We
would not check the youthful feeling of gen-
erosity. We would be among the last to in
culcate meanness, nor is there any one to
whom a niggardly and parsimonious young
man is more disagreeable than to me. Such
a character in the young is against nature.

150 THE WA\S OF WISDOM.

At first sight, extravagance itself seems more
excusable. But on the other hand, extrav-
agance is a sort of dishonesty ; to live be-
yond one's income often degenerates into
the worst meanness ; to owe money that we
cannot pay, drives one to subterfuges and un-
manly evasions, of which no one can help
being ashamed. Debt is a kind of servitude,
under which it is hard to retain the more man-
ly virtues of freedom. Under its influence,
our own self-respect is very apt to be dimin-
ished. It is mortifying to acknowledge even
to ourselves that there are men whom we are
almost afraid to meet, and to whom we have
given the right to treat us in a manner to hurt
our feelings. The creditor who demands pay-
ment, and the debtor who is unable to make
it, are seldom upon equal terms.

There is no rule, therefore, more important
in maintaining independence of feeling and a
nice sense of honor, than to live within one's
means, so that we may have an answer to give
to every one who says, " Pay me that thou
owest." I have known many young persons

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 151

whose prospects in life have been ruined by
neglect of this rule. Debts, thoughtlessly in-
curred, give food for anxious thought after-
ward, and it is astonishing how great an effect
upon the whole character is produced. The
young man suffering under this sort of anxie-
ty, eager for an increase of income, discon-
tented with what he now receives, uneasy lest
his embarrassment may be known, fearful of
being dunned, is in no state of mind for self-
improvement When alone, he is too nervous
to read, when in company too restless for its
enjoyment. The tone of his mind becomes

• unhealthy and his mode of life careless. On
the other hand, the feeling that he does not
depend upon the favor of any one, that he is
always in a position to change his place, if
unjustly treated, and that he is not obliged to
seek any man's favor by unworthy stooping,
produces a feeling of self-respect, which will
save him from a great deal of folly.

Another safeguard of virtue is found in

\ good books. By surrounding ourselves with
them, and making ourselves familiar with them

152 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

as with beioved companions, we take an ef-
fectual means of self-improvement ; we place
ourselves beyond the reach of many tempta-
tions ; we secure a fund of enjoyment, rich and
unfailing. It is a source of delight, of rational
happiness, which can never be exhausted, but
still becomes greater, and is prized more and
more to the end of life. He who loves read-
ing, and has books within his reach, is an in-
dependent man, be he rich or poor. Every
volume he opens is a cordial friend, whose
hand he grasps and whose countenance to-
wards him does not change.

We lose ourselves from the vexations of
life, we retire from its cares, we forget its dis-
appointments ; even its bereavements are soft-
ened to our hearts, when we thus ponder the
wisdom of the dead, or receive the quickening
thoughts of the living. How sacred, how
blessed, is that intercourse ! how ennobling
the companionship, when we stand with MIL-
TON, and SOCRATES, and SHAKSPEARE, and
HOMER, and ADDISON, and JOHNSON, and
SCHILLER, and GOETHE, and all the worthies

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 153

of every land and every age, from MOSES, the
great lawgiver, and DAVID, the greatest poet,
to our own WEBSTER and BRYANT. When
they are all around us, with all their best
thoughts, their sagest instruction ; with the
gay sparkling of fancy, and wit provoking
laughter until it comes with tears ; or with im-
ages of sorrow and pathetic tenderness, which
make our hearts almost bleed, yet with not an
unpleasing sadness ; in such companionship,
though alone, how glorious society we enjoy!
Who could ask any thing of the world when
the treasure of such riches is his own ?

Who can enjoy the society of the vulgar, or
enter upon scenes of dissipation, when he has
learned to enjoy pleasures so refined, in com-
pany so select and beautiful ?

The love which the scholar feels for his
books, none but a scholar can understand ; but
every one who diligently seeks for self-im-
provement must learn something of it from
his own experience, or his progress will be
slow. The taste for reading is one of the sur-
est marks of an improving mind and a virtu-

154 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

ous character. But it will not come of itself.
At first it must be cultivated with diligence,
as we would perform any other duty. Other
engagements will seem more attractive, and
we shall sometimes take up our books with a
feeling of weariness, as an irksome task ; but
the habit will soon be formed. As the mind
gains knowledge, we shall love the sources
from which knowledge comes.

We need offer no argument to show that to
the individual the habit is invaluable ; to be a
reading man is, generally speaking, to be a
moral man and a useful citizen. To a com-
munity it is equally important ; for to be an
enlightened community and a reading com-
munity are but two expressions for the same
thing. I would not lay so much stress upon
this point, having already spoken of it once
before in these lectures, but because I think
that this is the respect in which, as a commu-
nity, we are most deficient. Our young men
need to have their attention turned away from
mere amusement, to the higher pleasure which
reading affords. They need more of that ed

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 155

ucation and refinement, which books alone
can give. No other human influence can do
more than this to check the growth of intem-
perance and to elevate the moral standing of
this city. If I had it in my power to close ev-
ery bar-room and place of wickedness, and to
prohibit the sale of intoxicating drink by law,
I should probably exercise the power with
great gladness ; but not one half the good
would be thereby accomplished, nor would it
be half so well done, as by giving to all our
young men so great a taste for reading, that
they would lose the taste for dissipation. If
we could thus take away the occupants of our
splendid saloons, their splendor would soon
fade away.

It is for this reason that we look with so
great pride upon the growth of an institution
whose express object is to cultivate the taste
for reading among us, and to provide means
for its exercise. I refer to the Mercantile Li
brary Association. It is a good beginning
and promises well for the future. We would
place it next to the institutions of religion it-

156 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

self, as a means of promoting virtue and dis-
couraging vice. We mention it in this con-
nection for another reason also ; because it is
not only intended chiefly for the benefit of our
young men, but because it is chiefly the work
of our young men themselves. It is true, in-
deed, that they have received from the older
part of the community, efficient and indispen-
sable aid ; but the laboring oar has been in the
hands of young men themselves, or of those
who are but just passing into the years ol
middle life. More than half of its annual sub-
scribers are young men, who are not them-
selves yet established in business. Its grow-
ing favor in this community is, therefore, one
of the best evidences of improvement. Its li-
brary, although not large, is well selected, and,
being easily accessible to young men, offers to
them means of self-improvement and rational
enjoyment, which no young man is wise to
neglect. We hope that the spacious rooms
which will soon be ready for its use will not be
too large for the accommodation of those who
desire to avail themselves of its privileges.

THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 157

Will you also indulge me if I take this op-
portunity of paying a tribute to the memory
of one, of whose death, in a distant land, we
have recently heard. Although a young man,
he was among the early friends of the institu-
tion just now named, and, at the time of his
leaving this city, one of its directors. Him-
self a beginner in life, he gave what is often
better than money, his time and personal at-
tention to its interests. I refer to THEODORE
CLARK. From his boyhood I knew him well,
and watched over him in his youth and early
manhood, not only as his pastor, but as his
friend. His death is to me a personal grief,
and to this church, of which he was a valued
member, an irreparable loss. Although he had
removed for the time to a distant home, his
place here did not seem to be vacant, until
now. The tears which fall to his memory are
those of sincere sorrow, and the tribute of re-
spect now paid is also the tribute of affection.

How mysterious are those dispensations of
Providence, by which the young and useful
are taken away in the beginning of their ca-

158 THE WAYS OF WISDOM.

reer ! But the dealings of God are not meas-
ured by the wisdom of men. Death knows no
distinction either of age or place. However
young and strong, the warning is equally to
us all. Be ye ready also, for in a day and
hour when ye think not, the Lord corneth.
Are we ready now ? If death were to call us
hence to-day or to-morrow, could we obey the
summons without fear? He who lives as he
ought is always prepared to die. " Rejoice,
O young man, in thy youth," saith the Scrip-
ture, " and let thy heart cheer thee, in the days
of thy youth ; but know thou, that for all these
things God shall bring thee into judgment."
Therefore, " fear God and keep his command-
ments, for this is the whole duty of man."

LECTURE VI.

EELIGION

" I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye pre-
sent your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is
your reasonable service." — Rom. xii. 1.

MY previous lectures have been chiefly upon
moral subjects. We .have considered the du-
ties devolving upon us, in the ordinary rela-
tions of life, with reference to our usefulness
and happiness in this world. The motives by
which the necessity of a good life has been
urged, have been drawn, in part, from those
considerations of propriety, of self-respect, and
even of worldly success, which belong to this
life alone, and are in themselves considered
motives of expediency, as much as of right. I
have, indeed, endeavored to preserve an unde*
current of religious feeling, and thereby impart
seriousness and solemnity to our thoughts.

160 RELIGION.

My own mind has never bt en drawn, even for
a moment, from the responsibility under which
we stand to God. The truth that the present
life is also a preparation for the future, has
been continually present to me. Even in
those remarks which may have seemed most
exclusively prudential and worldly, I have de-
sired to make all rest on this foundation.

If the present life were all of which we have
promise, there are, perhaps, sufficient motives
to keep a sensible man from the dissipations
and wickedness of the .world, and to induce
him to spend his time in a course of sobriety
and usefulness ; but it is only when we think
of the present life as the childhood of the soul,
and that the character which the soul forms
for itself here must go with it to the threshold
of Eternity, that we can discern the infinite
importance of goodness, and the fearfulness of
that wrong which we do to our own souls
through sin. As we say to the child, to be
diligent in his school-days, because upon this
his character as a man will depend, so do we
say of the present life, that we should spend it

RELIGION. 161

well, because we are now educating ourselves
for good or evil in the world to come. Is it
not a thoug.it to star.le us from indifference 7
Does it not confer sacredness upon the com-
mon duties of life, and the brand of deeper in-
famy upon its sins? If it were only the re-
spectability and the comfort, the rational en-
joyment and usefuh^^s of a life which must
end in fifty or sixty years, we might almost
excuse ourselves in sin, by saying that after all
it is a matter of small importance and will
soon be over ; but when we think of it all, as
only the beginning now, the dread consequen-
ces of which will be developed in the unknown
but never ending future, our hearts are sobered
from their folly, our consciences are wakened
from their sleep.

I would not urge upon you the fear of hell,
as the leading motive to a good life, for I find
no authority in Scripture, in the preaching of
Christ or his Apostles, for so doing; although
they did not conceal the "terrors of the Lord,"
they used them " for the persuasion of men."
They spoke plainly of the terrible consequen-
11

RELIGION

ces of sin, both here and hereafter; but it was
chiefly by the beauty of goodness and by the
love of God that they made their appeal. " I
beseech you therefore, by the mercies of God,"
said the Apostle, " to present your bodies a liv-
ing sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which
is your reasonable service." The true Chris-
tian preaching calls attention to the dreadful
consequences of sin, only so far as to make
the pursuit of virtue the reasonable service of
God. Nothing, I suppose, has contributed
more to bring religion into contempt, than the
manner in which the fear of hell has been
made " the hangman's whip, to keep the world
in order." It is sometimes used as a motive,
not less mercenary than the most common re-
wards of virtue in the present life. We may
learn to think of heaven and hell as the pay-
ment for so much virtue, or the punishment
for so much sin, just as we think of money re-
ceived in payment for work done, or of the jail
as the penalty of crime. It is better to con-
duct ourselves well, even from such motives
as these, than not at all ; but the motives are

RELIGION. 163

certainly of a low kind, and not well <-alcu»
lated to develop a high order of virtue.

If we can love God only so long as the fear
of his anger is before us, our case is, at the
best, but a bad one. If sin is hateful to us,
only because its outward punishment, either
here or hereafter, is terrible, our hearts may in
fact be loving the sin itself and yearning for
its commission all the time. We must rise to
a much higher state of feeling than this, before
we are properly Evangelical or Gospel Chris-
tians. We must learn to feel that virtue is its
own exceeding great reward, and that we are
paid, over and over again, for all our exertions
to do right, for all acts of self-denial, for all
perseverance in well-doing, by the character
which we are thus giving to our own souls, by
the communion which we are thus holding
with the pure and good and above all with
God himself. We should feel, that in the
commission of a base action, or the indulgence
of bad passions, the baseness and degradation
are themselves the greatest punishment. The
hope of heaven then becomes a right and wor-

164

RELIGION.

thy motive, because its reward is in the con-
tinuance and perfect completion, through eter-
nity, of that serene delight which begins here
The fear of future retribution then becomes an
availing motive, of which we need not b(;
ashamed, because it is chiefly the continuance
of that same baseness of character to which
sin now degrades us, and by which, as we are
separated from God's love now, we have rea-
son to fear that we shall be separated from
him more widely hereafter.

Religion ought not to be made the calcula-
tion of profit and loss. As the body hungers
for its daily food, because needful for its main-
tenance, so should the soul hunger and thirst
after righteousness, because necessary for its
full development, for its healthy action, for the
maintenance of its real life. As spiritual be-
ings, we live just in proportion to our degree
of goodness. When we commit sin, the soul
languishes. If it were possible to be com
pletely buried in sin, the soul would die. Jt
finds no elements of life in wickedness, but all
its faculties are cramped, its beauty lost, its

RELIGION. 165

capacity of improvement impaired. Compare
the soul of one whose life has been consecrat-
ed to goodness and truth, with that of one
whose whole life has been wasted in self-
indulgence, or given to the pursuit of sin.
When they are both called to the judgment-
seat of Christ, how differently do they appear!
I do not now say how different must be the
judgment pronounced on them, but how dif-
ferent they are in themselves. You would
hardly suppose them to be of the same fam-
ily or kindred. They seem to be of a differ-
ent nature. Equally different, therefore, must
be their destination. The sentence is in them-
selves already, " Depart from me, ye cursed,"
or " Come unto me, ye blessed of my Father."
Nothing, however, can be more absurd, than
to think of the heavenly life as being, in a
meritorious sense, the reward of a good life
on earth. The Saviour taught that "when
we have done all we are unprofitable servants,
doing only what is our duty to do." That is to
say, God may properly claim our best service,
and therefore we can do nothing to establish

166

RELIGION.

a claim upon him in return. We should not
speak of future salvation, as if it were a debt
due from God to us, to be claimed, just as the
aborer claims payment for the work he has
done. It is as though you were to confer
benefits, day after day, and year after year,
upon some one who has no claim upon you,
and he should demand the continuance of
such benefits as a right. Even if our whole
duty were performed, the hope of eternal life
must be founded upon the continuance of the
Divine goodness, the faithfulness of the Di-
vine promise ; but when we confess, as we
must, that, instead of our whole duty, not one
half has been done, the absurdity of making
that imperfect performance a claim to infi-
nite reward is sufficiently evident. To escape
punishment for what remains undone, or for
what has been done badly, is in itself a great
deliverance. Our relation towards God is
that of sinners who ask forgiveness, of peni-
tents seeking for pardon. When, therefore, in
addition to the forgiveness asked, a life of joy
is promised, a life of communion with the

RELIGION. 167

just made perfect, with the holy Jesus and
with the infinite God himself, our hearts over-
flow with gratitude, and all thoughts of our
own merit are for ever put away.

We know that repentance and a renewed
life are made a condition, and they are an in-
dispensable condition, of future happiness. I
do not know of any part of Scripture which
encourages us to hope for salvation upon any
other terms. But the condition on which a
benefit is conferred, is very different from its
procuring cause. You may promise to a poor
man that, if he will come to your house, you
will relieve his wants; his coming is therefore
a condition, upon the fulfilment of which your
assistance will be given ; but who would pre-
tend that it is in any proper sense meritorious ?
The gift would come from your liberality, as
much as if no condition had been annexed.
Or, if you were to receive a young person as
a scholar, with the promise, that, if he uses his
advantages well up to a certain point, so as
to prepare himself for greater, they shall be
given to him ; in one sense this would appear

168 RELIGION.

as a reward, but the obligation resting upon
you would come only from your own promise,
and not at all on the ground of his merit.
Your promise itself was given gratuitously,
and its fulfilment is only the completion of a
kindness begun.

So far as the idea of reward is contained in
the promise of future bliss, it is contained in
the illustration now given. We are placed
here, the children of God, surrounded by bless-
ings, with abundant opportunities of im-
provement, the tokens of God's love every-
where present, and with the promise, that, if
we use these present blessings for our own
education in goodness and truth, so as to be
capable of receiving greater blessings hereafter,
they shall be given to us. Use the earth well,
and heaven shall be yours. Educate your-
selves for the higher life, and you shall enter
upon it. Follow God's present guidance, and
he will lead you from glory to glory, from one
height of excellence and enjoyment to another,
through the ages of eternity. If we call the
fulfilment of these gracious promises the re-

RELIGION. 169

ward of a Christian life, it is not, in the strict
sense of reward, as a debt from nim who
gives it, which we can claim on the score of
merit, but only on the faithfulness of him by
whom the promise is made. It is better to
say that the regenerate life is the condition
on which salvation is freely offered through
Jesus Christ.

And why is it made a condition ? Not be-
cause God gains any thing by its fulfilment;
he requires nothing of us, as though he needed
it, " seeing that in him we live and move and
have our being." Our best holiness is but the
working of his spirit in our hearts, and the
part which we do is to submit ourselves to
the heavenly guidance. It is made the con-
dition, so far as we can understand the sub-
ject, just as each step in knowledge is the
condition of further progress. It is imposed
upon us, not by an arbitrary decree, but by
he law under which we live. " To him that
hath shall be given," is the law of spiritual
progress. Nothing can be given to those who
have not the capacity to receive it. I believe

170 RELIGION

that God always confers upon us the greatest
amount ol spiritual blessings that we are ca-
pable to receive. By using the present gift
the capacity enlarges, and the human soul,
through the continuance of God's grace, ex-
pands to an angel's form. This is eternal life,
of which we must have the earnest here, if
we would enter upon that greater promise
hereafter.

In the same manner, a wrong idea is often
entertained of the punishment threatened ; as
though our sins were a wrong done to God,
an injury inflicted upon him, for which he will
take vengeance. But the Scriptures say, " He
that committeth sin wrongeth his own soul."
How can the finite injure the Infinite? How
can the creature inflict a wrong upon the
Creator, who sustains him in life and gives
him the power by which the wrong is done?
How can we think of God as thirsting for
vengeance against those, whom by a breath
he could sweep away for ever? That contest
would be too unequal. It is true that the
Scripture uses language, a literal interpreta-

RELIGION. 171

tion of which would convey this idea of
punishment, but a moment's thought shows
its true meaning. The explanation of all
God's dealing with us, however severe it may
be, and of all the threatenings contained in
his word, is found in the twofold character
of God; first, as our Heavenly Father, and,
secondly, as a being infinitely wise and holy.

As a Father, he directs all things for our
good, but, leaving to us freedom to obey or
disobey him, to use the means of grace or to
neglect them, we are of course subject to sin
and the ruin it produces. As a Being infi-
nitely wise and holy, our departure from sin
and return to goodness is absolutely indispen-
sable to his favor ; it is equally indispensable
to our own real happiness. Whatever degree
of suffering, therefore, may be necessary un-
der God's parental discipline, however terri-
ble it may seem and however terrible it may
be, is the inevitable consequence. The moral
government of God, in which holiness is made
the absolute law, must be maintained. The
"terrors of the Lord" therefore sufficiently

172 RELIGION.

appear. But there is nothing, in the infliction
of his severest sentences, like human ven-
geance, or the expression of anger as a per-
sonal feeling. We do not pretend to interpret
all the principles of the Divine government,
as though we sat upon the judgment-seat,
but the general principles now laid down may
be asserted, we think, with the utmost confi-
dence. It is a view of religion, at the same
time the most cheering and most alarming we
can take. It delivers us from superstitious
fears, from slavish trembling before God,
while it reveals to us the absolute necessity
of a good and holy life. There is no escape
from it. It is required not only by the com-
mands of God, but by the nature of God
itself. It is required also by our own nature,
which is, in this respect, created after the
image of God.

It thus appears in what manner the Chris-
dan life is the condition of salvation, not as
a procuring cause, but as the indispensable
preparation. But the question now arises, In
what does that preparation consist? What

RELIGION. 173

do we mean by a Christian life as a condition
of acceptance? This is an important ques-
ion, and upon its answer our views of practi-
cal religion will chiefly depend. The same
question was proposed by a prophet in olden
time, and his answer will guide us to the
truth. " What is it, O man, that the Lord \
thy God requireth of thee, but this, to do
justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy
God?" It consists, therefore, of two parts;
the faithful and kind performance of our
duties to each other, and the spirit of devotion
towards God. Both parts are equally impor-
tant, and neither is perfect without the other.
The same answer is given by Christ himself,
although in different words, when he says
that there are but two essential command-
ments, of which the first is " to love the
Lord our God with all the heart," and the
second, " to love our neighbor as we love
ourselves."

There is a great difference between morality
and religion. We may say, indeed, that mo-
rality cannot be perfect, without religious prin-

174 RELIGION.

ciple for its foundation ; and as a matter of
fact, this is true. Worldly principles are not
enough to make a man truly good. But in
idea we may consider morality quite abstract-
ly from religion, and in practical life we find
many instances of those who are called moral
men, and who are so in all the common rela-
tions of life, but upon whose hearts the influ-
ence of religion has not yet been shed. World-
ly and selfish motives are enough to conform
our characters to a high standard of respectabil-
ity, and our natural affections, if well directed
ill early life, will lead to the practice of those
virtues, upon which the comfort of our fami-
lies and the peace of society depend. Some-
times a degree of excellence is thus attained
deserving of great respect. We do not un-
dervalue it. Such obedience is very often, as
it is said of the law, " the schoolmaster
which brings us to Christ " ; but it is evident,
even to superficial thought, that, however cor-
rect the outward conduct may be, its real
character depends upon the motive by which
it is actuated. You may describe a man

RELIGION. 175

who, to human observation, wrongs no per-
son, but fulfils all his duties with scrupulous
exactness, of whom you may yet say that
God is not in all his thoughts. You may
imagine such an one, we do not say that you
will find him in actual life, but you may
imagine him to be impelled in all that he does
by motives of self-interest. It may all be
nothing but a refined calculation of profit and
loss. It may be all in the service of the world
and from the fear of man. Now, however es-
timable his exterior may be, and however val-
uable in the common relations of life, we can-
not help admitting that the soul, when actuated
by no higher motives than these, is very far from
its own highest advancement. Change its rul-
ing principle ; let the supreme love of good-
ness take possession of it, for goodness' sake ;
infuse into it the martyr's spirit of self-sacri-
fice ; let self-consecration take the place of
self-love ; let God become the object of su-
preme worship, instead of tht, world, and how
complete a change in the spiritual nature is
produced ! It is as complete regeneration as

176 RELIGION.

the change from vice to virtue ; as complete,
we say, and as real, although not as open to
outward observation.

Such is an extreme case, but it serves to
show the essential difference between morality
and religion. The common experience of life
shows it equally well, and in a more practical
manner. As the world goes, moral men are
very frequently not religious men ; and what
is still more unfortunate, those who claim to
be religious are not always moral. This is a
manifest and gross inconsistency, and proves
that their religion itself is either shallow or
hypocritical; but instances of it are not un-
common. Men who have their seasons of fer-
vent prayer, who are carried even beyond the
bounds of reason by religious zeal, who make
many professions, and that too not without
sincerity, are yet sometimes known as men not
to be trusted, who will be guilty of overreach-
ing, falsehood, and other offences, which the
common morality of life rebukes. The relig-
ion of such persons is not always hypocritical,
but more frequently shallow. It is founded

RELIGION. 177

upon wrong principles. It is the result of
wrong education. It comes from the idea
that the worship of God is something exter-
nal, which he requires for his own sake,
instead of that "reasonable service," which
consists in presenting the body a living sacri-
fice to him. When we learn that " they
who worship God must worship him in spirit
and in truth," and that no worship can be ac-
ceptable to him which comes from an impure
or bigoted heart, or which is accompanied
by an impure or dishonest life, then the relig-
ion which tries to dispense with morality, an<"
the faith which tries to do without works, wil
be abandoned. Religion, if rightly consid ^
ered, is the spirit in which we live. When
we have the spirit of Christ, we have the
Christian religion. In proportion as we ob-
tain it we are Christians. It must penetrate
and gradually purify our whole nature. It
must govern us in all the departments of life.
It begins with that fear of God which is the
fear to commit sin, and is perfected in that
love of God which leads to the love of good-
12

178 RELIGION.

ness. It infuses into all our actions a heaven-
ly purpose, and gives to all our steps a heaven-
ward direction. It gradually becomes the
ruling motive and gives a new character, al-
most a higher natuie, to the soul. We do
not say that this is at once accomplished, but
it is the work proposed. It is the tendency
which Religion gives to the soul, conforming
it to that which is heavenly, raising it above
that which is earthly, taking away the selfish
life and bringing the life of God into the soul
of man. It holds before us the perfect ex-
ample of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and,
teaching us that we also are the children of
God, encourages us to press forward towards
the mark of our high calling. It commands
us to become like Jesus, and in that one
word includes the highest self-devotion to
God, and the most careful performance of all
A the duties of life.

What I would chiefly urge upon you now
is the necessity of religion, as a pervading in-
fluence of life, to every one of us, especially to
those who are young. If there are any whose

RELIGION. 17&

passions are already subdued under other dis-
cipline, they will still need its comforting and
purifying presence ; but the young cannot dis-
pense with it, without the greatest risk even to
their common morality. Religion is needed
by them in the development of their faculties,
in the education of their minds, in the govern-
ment of life. It is the balance-wheel, to im-
part steady and regular action to those im-
pulses, which will otherwise have unequal and
destructive power. It is needed to give them
consistency of character, to remove them from
that strong influence of example which is the
ruin of so many, to give them the power of
saying NO, when they are tempted. Religion
is the highest and strongest principle of self-
guidance. It enables one to stand alone, if in
a right position ; to refuse following the mul-
titude in doing evil. Ij^pp^aiio^youjig^nen
need such an influence. Do you

not often feel your resolutions giving way, be-
cause they have no higher support than your
own will ? Would it not often be a relief to
you when tempted, to think, I cannot do this

180 RELIGION.

because my religion forbids me ? If that si-
lent appeal were open to you, would it not
enable you to escape from many of the false
judgments of the world?

I know that young persons are not apt to
take this view of the subject. They are more
apt to think that religion is intended as a con-
solation to those who are in trouble ; as a ref-
uge to the alarmed and repenting sinner; as
a staff to support the declining years of the
aged ; as the promise which allays the fears
of the dying. It is indeed all this, but it is al-
so something more. It is the purifying influ-
ence of life, needed by the young, not less than
by the old ; by the prosperous, not less than by
the unfortunate. It is as important to us in
the fulness of strength as upon the dying bed.

There are some who think that they may
spend the whole of life as they please, in friv-
olous worldliness or heartless sin ; and that at
the close of life, or even upon the death-bed,
they can make it all right between themselves
and God, by a few earnest prayers and by
casting themselves upon the merits of Jesus

RELIGION. 181

Christ. How uncertain is such a reliance,
even at the best ! How can we tell that death
may not be so sudden as to give not a day or
an hour for preparation ? How little oppor-
tunity of thought do the days of sickness af-
ford, when the body is tortured by pain, and
the mind disturbed from its healthy action,
and the anxious faces of friends fill us with
anxiety, and our own hearts are trembling be-
cause we are not ready to die! But still more,
what right have we to expect that God will
hear that last despairing cry, of those who
through their whole lives have refused to call
upon him ? We would not extinguish that
hope when there is no other; but neither
Scripture nor reason justifies us in making it
our chief reliance. It is a living sacrifice
which God demands, not a dying sacrifice.,
Under the Jewish law, he who brought a dis-
eased or imperfect offering to the altar, from
his herds or flocks, was rebuked and rejected.
The offering was required to be without spot
or stain. Under the Christian dispensation,
shall we do less honor to the God and Father

}82 RELIGION.

of our Lord Jesus Christ? Shall we give the
vigor of our days to worldly and selfish pur-
suits, and at last come with reluctant steps,
with the poor wreck of a decaying body, and
offer that to God for his acceptance ? There
is a meanness in it, a baseness of calculation,
from which our hearts revolt. To make Him,
who ought to be the first and highest in our
thoughts, the last resort of our feebleness, is
little short of blasphemy. To acknowledge,
as we do, that Christ died to redeem us from
sin and death, but deliberately to put him
away from our thoughts and refuse obedience
to his commands, until all our worldly pur-
poses have been accomplished, and all our
sinful appetites indulged, and then turn to him,
saying : " Now we will accept thy salvation ;
now we will rely upon thy merits " ; — does not
such a hope, even when it comes, border upon
despair? What then shall we say of those
who hold it before them as their plan of life,
and who devote their days to sin, with such an
expectation of final escape ?
\ There are some who neglect religion in

RELIGION. 183

their youth, because the*- think that by and
by it will be easier to become religious. They
flatter themselves that youthful folly will die
out, of itself; that the strength of their pas-
sions will become less, and the work of self-
government easier ; that the temptations of life
will not be so many, nor so hard to resist;
that as they grow older, religious thought will
become more natural to them, and worldliness
less attractive. They hope, therefore, to grow
into religion by the natural progress of life.
In other words, starting in a wrong direction,
and travelling as fast as they well can, they
expect to arrive at the right conclusion of their
journey. The whole experience of life shows
their folly. When did you ever know bad
passions to become less by indulgence ? When
did wrong habits ever correct themselves, or
become easier of correction by continuance?
You say that it is hard for you to be religious
now ; I grant it. It will require your best
exertions and the assistance of God's spirit,
which he has also promised. But it will be
harder next year, and every year that you live,

184 RELIGION.

until it becomes almost impossible. Begin the
work now, enlist the power of habit on the side
of virtue, make religion the ruling principle,
and you will then find that as you grow older
the work will become easier. Walking in a
right direction, surmounting one obstacle after
another, although you may seem to progress
slowly, yet every step is so much gained, and
your whole life will accomplish a great deal.
Then, at the close of life, you may cast your-
self upon the mercy of God, of which you will
still have enough need, with a reasonable
hope, yea, with a strong confidence, that his
(V promise of salvation through Jesus Christ will
be fulfilled.

But there are some, who admit all I have
now said, but upon whom it has no practical
influence. They admit that religion is the
strongest influence that can be brought to bear
upon them. They admit its absolute neces-
sity; they do not believe in a death-bed re-
pentance ; yet they remain irreligious, and do
not even put themselves under religious in
struction. And this, not from a determinate

RELIGION. 185

purpose to neglect religion, but 'for reasons
which are scarcely reasons at all. Perhaps it
is only from a habit of procrastination. Some
decided step is needed in the beginning, some
change in their ordinary mode of life ; and as
there seems to be no necessity for beginning
to-day, they wait until to-morrow ; until grad-
ually the intention itself dies away, and the
habits of irreligion become confirmed.

I have also known many persons, who have
suffered the better part of life to pass without
placing themselves under religious influences,
because they have not quite determined what
church to attend. Their religious opinions
are not fixed. They visit sometimes one place
of worship and sometimes another, or, in the
doubt where to go, do not go anywhere ; so
that their thoughts become scattered, the reg-
ularity of habit is broken up, their opinions,
instead of becoming more settled, are more
wavering, and the result is complete indiffer-
ence or scepticism. Let me, therefore, in con-
clusion, say a few words upon this subject. I
cannot properly now enter upon a discussion

186 RELIGION.

of religious doctrines, nor do any thing to set-
tle your minds concerning them. For I can
honestly say, that I have had no sectarian pur-
pose to accomplish in these lectures. It is a
matter of secondary importance to me, wheth-
er those who have heard them are led to make
this their place of worship, or some other. If
they are awakened to the necessity of religion
and encouraged in the practice of virtue, I
shall be abundantly content. But I may take
the liberty of advising every young man to se-
lect some place of public worship as his own,
and to occupy his seat there as regularly as
the Sunday comes. I do not mean that he
should never go to any church but his own,
for it is useful at times to go elsewhere, to
keep him from becoming narrow-minded and
bigoted. But he should have his own custom-
ary place of worship, where he will attend, un-
less sufficient reason leads him for the time to
some other.

He will soon find his account in this. It is
not that a single sermon, or many sermons,
will do him much good. Sermons are very

RELIGION. 18*7

often dull ; the subjects treated are often such
as do not interest the young, and the hour
spent at church will sometimes be the longest
in the day. You may think that you would
have done better to stay at home and read,
and so far as mere instruction is concerned
this will sometimes be true. But the general
influence of the House of Prayer is, neverthe-
less, in the highest degree beneficial. I am
disposed to think it almost indispensable, as a
means of religious improvement. You will
find very few persons who neglect it without
injury to themselves. It is not so much the
instruction imparted, although that is some-
thing, but a higher direction is given to the
thoughts ; the eager pursuit of worldly things
is moderated ; our sins are rebuked, if not by
the sermon, yet by the Scripture read and the
prayers offered ; we are reminded of many
things which, although we know them well
enough, we are prone to forget ; above all, we
near the name of Jesus Christ as our Saviour,
and of the Infinite God as our Heavenly Fa-
ther, and as our hearts respond, in unison with

188 RELIGION.

many others, to those blessed words, which
are more dear to us as they become more fa-
miliar, the united influence of our own
prayers, and of sympathy with those around
us, and of all the associations of the place, ex-
cites within us a yearning after goodness, and
turns us from the love of sin. We go away
self-rebuked, yet encouraged for new endeavor.
We have found consolation under sorrow,
strength to resist temptation, and perhaps the
hope of eternal life. Such is the natural and
proper influence of the place where prayer is
wont to be made. We shall not fail to expe-
rience it, if we are truly engaged in the work
of self-improvement, in the formation of the
Christian character. We do not speak of
church-going as a meritorious act, in itself
Considered ; but as a judicious act, which,
,vhen done with a right motive, is almost sure
o produce a good result. Its neglect leaves
he Sunday unoccupied, and opens the way to
avany temptations. The religious instruction
of our childhood is gradually forgotten. We
become more worldly-minded and less devout;

RELIGION. 189

the associations both of the Sunday and of the
week-day become less favorable to virtue, and
at the end of a few years we find abundant
reason to lament that we ever departed from
the habits of our early days.

If, then, it is wise to attend regularly at
some church, upon what principles shall we
make the selection ? We answer, go where
you hear the Gospel most faithfully preached,
and where you feel the influence upon your
own character to be the best. Compare the
preaching you hear with the Bible you read.
" Judge for yourselves what is right," accord-
ing to this standard, and you are not likely to
go far wrong. Among all the different creeds
taught, you may not be able to decide which
is absolutely correct, and there are many points
of doctrine concerning which you may always
remain in doubt; but the great principles of
Christianity are plain enough to all. With
regard to its leading doctrines, also, you may
without much difficulty form an opinion. But
above all, and what is most important, you
will have no difficulty in deciding where you

190 RELIGION.

are most benefited, and that is your proper
place of worship.

Wherever it may be, may the God of peace
go with you ! I have sought to do my own
duty towards you as a minister of Jesus Christ,
and, if I have spoken too plainly, have endeav-
ored to " speak the truth in love." I end,
therefore, as I began, — "beseeching you, by
the mercies of God, to present your bodies a
LIVING SACRIFICE, holy, acceptable unto God,
which is your reasonable service."

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