Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Chapter I: Introductory
 Chapter II: The Hebrew captive
 Chapter III: The heathen’s son
 Chapter IV: The bishop
 Chapter V: The monk
 Chapter VI: The king
 Chapter VII: The judge
 Chapter VIII: The noble
 Chapter IX: The soldier
 Chapter X: The philosopher
 Chapter XI: The sailor
 Chapter XII: The philanthropis...
 Chapter XIII: The missionary
 Chapter XIV: The poet
 Chapter XV: The divine
 Chapter XVI: The statesman
 Chapter XVII: The pastor
 Chapter XVIII: The merchant
 Chapter XIX: Conclusion
 Back Cover

Group Title: Seed-time and harvest, or, Sow well and reap well : a book for the young
Title: Seed-time and harvest, or, Sow well and reap well
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00026973/00001
 Material Information
Title: Seed-time and harvest, or, Sow well and reap well a book for the young
Alternate Title: Seed time & harvest a book for the young
Sow well and reap well
Physical Description: 247 p., 8 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Tweedie, W. K ( William King ), 1803-1863
Paterson, Robert, fl. 1860-1899 ( Engraver )
Small, William, 1843-1929 ( Illustrator )
Thomas Nelson & Sons
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: T. Nelson and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Edinburgh ;
New York
Publication Date: 1873
Subject: Kings and rulers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Philosophers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Sailors -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Philanthropists -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Missionaries -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1873   ( lcsh )
Biographies -- 1873   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1873
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Biographies   ( rbgenr )
collective biography   ( marcgt )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by W.K. Tweedie.
General Note: Added title page and frontispiece printed in colors; other illustrations engraved by Dalziel or Paterson after Small.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00026973
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002239007
notis - ALH9531
oclc - 60313637

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Half Title
        Page i
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    Chapter I: Introductory
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 16a
        Page 17
        Page 18
    Chapter II: The Hebrew captive
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 24a
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    Chapter III: The heathen’s son
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Chapter IV: The bishop
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Chapter V: The monk
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Chapter VI: The king
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 60a
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Chapter VII: The judge
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    Chapter VIII: The noble
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Chapter IX: The soldier
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
    Chapter X: The philosopher
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
    Chapter XI: The sailor
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
    Chapter XII: The philanthropist
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
    Chapter XIII: The missionary
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
    Chapter XIV: The poet
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 196a
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    Chapter XV: The divine
        Page 200
        Page 200a
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
    Chapter XVI: The statesman
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
    Chapter XVII: The pastor
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 232a
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
    Chapter XVIII: The merchant
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
    Chapter XIX: Conclusion
        Page 255
        Page 256
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text


,,.I Book, 'Ol* theArouroo


f i1 .

,i e

1~! 'p


/-A v



i i3ook for tb) 1sulg.

7'lA I.ATE REV I. K. TWEEDlA, D.,.,



I tfatt.

IEN Sir Walter Scott was preparing his
"Letters from a Grandfather," to instinct
a young relative in the history of Scotland,
le reckoned it needful to commence his work in a
style of great simplicity, adapted, as he supposed, to
the attainments of the boy. He soon discovered,
however, that he had under-rated at once the capacity
and the taste of his grandson, and had accordingly
to elevate the style of the subsequent portions of his
work. Everything akin to the puerile was discarded,
and a mode of writing was adopted, less stately, or
less measured, perhaps, than the style which is com-
monly employed in history; but, at the same time,
considerably raised above what Sir Walter had at
first supposed to be needful in a work addressed to
We have often thought that the mistake into which

iv Prface.

he fell is repeated in many of our books for the young.
If these books were to be confined exclusively to the
nursery and its inmates, their character and contents
would correspond with their object; but if they ale
designed for those who are somewhat more advanced,
many of the works to which we have referred cannot
but fail in their attempts to elevate and improve.
To a large extent they find youth infantine, and tend
to keep it so. Few of them brace the mind. There
is nothing placed before the young at such an eleva-
tion as to necessitate some endeavour to reach it,
without being so high as to make the reaching of it
hopeless. It is intelligence lowered, rather than the
intelligent being elevated; and under such training,
the young mind must necessarily be continued in a
state of prolonged juvenility.
In the following pages an attempt has been made
to induce youth to think-that is, to connect events
with their causes-to trace the character, when fully
formed, up to its origin in youthful tendencies and
habits, and to notice how much may depend upon a
single principle adopted, or a single deed done. In
short, our little volume is designed to hold a middle
place between tales for nurseries and works for those
whose principles are mature and whose character is

formed; and we shall greatly lejoice if the young be
thus helped to read, mark, and inwardly digest the
important trutl-that if they would reap well, they
must sow well; if they would enjoy an old age of
honour, they must be trained in youth to virtue; if
they would prepare for an eternity of glory, it must
be by walking in the footsteps of the wise and the
good-of those who loved the truth, and were pre-
pared to sacrifice all rather than forsake it. In God's
world there is no law more sure in its operation than
that "what a man soweth that shall he also reap" -
and to stamp that law upon the minds of the young.
forms the leading object of this little volume.



... .. i8


... ... ... G

... ... 7

... ... 9

.. .. '

IA IIOIomeloRr,

11 InI IIrREw CIIIrn~

THE i~l HEATHE''s FSe,

V. THE loxK,



vm.1 THEi Nonu,


x. THie PHILosorate.

xt. THE sat~olu

Xlr.lii QuemirANTmoIstP I



Xv. THE Divibs;

xivI. Tir'EsT*rbsImN




jntromton ry.
E have wandered by the margin of a little

a verdant belt, where it spread fertility and
freshness around it. Welling up on the mountain
side, it seemed to promise a long and an expanding
career; and it was not difficult for fancy to picture
it widening, and deepening, and enlarging as it
flowed, till it fertilized half a continent, or bore on
its bosom the navy of an empire, or wafted the
wealth of the Indies to its havens. But that little
brook had not advanced far when its course was
impeded by noxious marshes, where bleak sterility
reigned around, and where its transparent waters
were speedily lost amid stagnant corruption. These
waters, no doubt, found their way to the ocean at
last, but it was by some dark and subterraneous

no 7The Flitting Book.

passage, where they shed no visible fertility, and
imparted no beauty to the scene.
Is not that an emblem of what often befalls in
infancy and youth A little child, the object of a
thousand solicitudes and tender cares, starts on his
career of life. For a season he appears to be beau-
tiful exceedingly, and the hearts of hundreds are
linked to him in closest affection, for they see him
only as surrounded by the halo of hope. But time
steals on. The child becomes the boy.. The boy
becomes the youth. The youth becomes the man;
and close-handed worldliness has blighted all that
once seemed fair and promising-perhaps unblush-
ing crime now stains what once appeared so innocent
and beautiful, and the heart of a father or a mother
is broken, at the thought of-
SHope's honey let within the wiiing bell "

The flitting brook, or the weeping willow, may thus
be the type of man.
We have walked in the garden in spring, when
all was beauty to the eye and music to the ear, and
noticed with delight how the rich blossoms gave
promise first of the plenitude of summer, and then
of the mellow autumn. In its wondrous laboratory
prolific nature seemed to be preparing the bounties
of Him who is the author of every good and per-
fect gift, to make glad the hearts of hundreds; and

The With eri Blossoms i

fancy revelled without an effort in the stores ohich
appeared to be in progress. But on the morrow we
revisited the scene, and it was now one of desolation
-like death, a killing frost had nipped in a night all
the promise of yesterday, and blackness, corruption,
and blight, now reigned where beauty was so recently
And is not that another emblem of what often hap-
pens in youth Its blossoms "go up like dust." To-
day all plomise-to-morrow all disappointment. To-
day cherished with fondness, as the hope of many
hearts-in a brief period only illustrating the truth,
"Iniquity is bound up in the heart of a child'"
Though the earth be often spanned by the rain-
bow, it may be true all the while that a tempest is
We have passed by the fields of the husbandman
when they were prepared in spring for the seed-when
that seed was committed to their ample bosom, and
when the dews of heaven, with the early and the
latter rain, were expected to impart fertility at the
bidding of Him who visits the earth, and waters it;
who greatly enriches it with the river of God, which
is full of water; who prepares them corn when he
has so provided for it; who waters the ridges thereof
abundantly; who settles the furrows thereof; who
makes it soft with showers; who blesses the spring-
ing thereof."

i2 ITbakkk's I)ym-

But all was deceitful A withering mildew came,
lke the locusts of old, and the hope of the husband-
man perished. He had to betake himself, whether
he would or no, to Habakkuk's hymn: "Although
the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be
in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and
the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut
off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the
stalls: yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the
God of my salvation."
And is not that also an emblem of what often
happens in youth All is done that human care
could do, to nurture in wisdom, and lead in the
paths of pleasantness and peace

Parents fat san us then shoolmaster
Doer us to lws; they and bundr
Pulpits and Sundays;"

but all is like water spilt upon the ground. He that
is unholy continues unholy still. Reason, conscience,
hope, and fear, are all swept away by the whirlwind
gust, or slowly sapped by the corrupting power of
passion. Like the unwary bee, drenched in the
nectar of the foxglove, and unable to fly to its hive,
such youths are clogged and ruined by the fancied
joys at which they grasp.
We have seen a princely pile of building reared
half way, and there left a monument of man's folly

Blghted Hnpes. '3

or ambition, or both. Marble gleamed there-the
East and the West sent their riches to adorn it, while
Art had done its utmost to lend beauty to the struc-
ture, and men hurried from far and near to study its
grandeur, or measure its proportions. But the am-
bition of the owner transcended his resources, and the
pile now serves only as his monument or mausoleum.
Itis an emblem again of youth Mighty projects,
airy hopes, sanguine anticipations, and a life of sun-
shine without a cloud, form the fancy picture of many
a young aspirant. But that picture vanishes like the
mirage of the desert, and, like the half-finished fabric
of the ambitious builder, that youth perhaps finds a
grave amid the ruins of his hopes.
We knew a youth of more than common promise,
and he was cherished by all who knew him as an
object of more than common love. In opening
manhood he would become a soldier, and lend him
self to the butchery, or the pillage, on a national
scale, which men call glorious war. In an attack he
led his detachment to the muzzles of the enemy's
guns, paused for a breath ere he should say
"Charge I" and that breath was his last-he was
stretched on the cold earth a corpse. Need we
add that this also is an emblem of wha tis too
often the doom of youth-

When wared to the abyrinth of e.,
Which babblers ia] a phllo~iopller dEvir "

14 The Companion fY the ol'o.

Allured by some factitious joy into a path which
promised pleasure, wealth, or fame, they perish in
the act of grasping at these shadows. They sow the
wind, and reap the whirlwind-an early grave, or a
corpse scarce buried in a foreign land, is all that re-
mains to wounded and bleeding affection. Over
such youths the ancient cry, Woe, woe, woe !" may
be dolefully renewed.
We have seen a child of promise glancmg through
his home for some of his earliest years, the delight
of all who dwelt there, and occasioning a joy as
exuberant as his glee. His mind was quite preco-
ciously developed; and some in reality, others from
courtesy, marvelled at his early powers. But disease
laid its hand upon that centre of many hearts, and
those who loved the child so prematurely wise, would
gladly have seen him as little gifted as vulgar chil-
dren are, could that have stayed the ravages of dis
ease. And does not that also find a parallel in the
history of many a youthful soul? Trained at first
with utmost painstaking, he is perhaps admired,
caressed, and doted on by those whom affection
blinds. But the latent moral disease at length
breaks out; it gives-
'r yer tio ale winds, and u lon to the wavesI
Evil communications corrupt good morals. The
companion of the fool is destroyed-nay, he destroys
himself; and you may perhaps trace his pathway

The Redeemer' Lve. 15

through life to the tomb, by the tears which are shed
by those who follow him thither. Like the bones
which lie scattered by the grave's edge, speaking so
eloquently of the littleness and decay of man, these
moral wrecks proclaim how poor and abject man is,
even in his best estate-
Poor child of d ts and death, hIs hopes are build on said "
How different is it with those who, under the watch-
ful care of some pious father or guardian, learn in their
youth those lessons of love and faithfulness and devo-
tion which alone can keep the soul free from the con-
tamination of the world Pleasant it is to see them
bending over the holy Book, and gathering from each
other's lips encouragement to persevere in its study'
We know that upon such study the blessing of Heaven
will be outpoured; and that childhood is very dear in
the sightofGod. The Saviour's loving soul has let forth
all its affection regarding that period of life, when-
Spring hIlg her infant bi..lobo, .. ie Il, ,
One of the tenderest of his sayings has reference to
the young, and it seems like a gleam of the very
light of heaven to hear the Saviour say : "Suffer the
little children to come unto me, and forbid them not;
for of such is the kingdom of heaven." And then,
Wisdom-the Redeemer's emblem, or the Redeemer
himself-walks forth among the erring sons of men,
and in winning words exclaims, "They that seek me

16 The Godiy Youth.

easily shall find me." It is not merely by such gene-
ral maxims as, "What a man soweth that shall he
also reap," that the young are warned and allured
towards what is pure, and good, and true. By line
upon line, and precept upon precept, the wisdom of
Heaven manifests its solicitude for them: Even a
child is known by his doings, whether his work be
pure, and whether it be right," is one of its an-
nouncements. "A wise son maketh a glad father,
but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother," is
another. The eye that mocketh at his father, and
despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the val-
ley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat
it," is a third. The Book of Proverbs, containing
the wisdom of the wisest man on whom our sun ever
shone, is full of instruction regarding youth; and
nothing is needed but the grace of God to bless its
deep though simple sayings, to make even the young
wise unto salvation, to keep them from the paths of
the destroyer, and lead them up to a Father's home
on high.
And while the Word of the Holy One teaches us
by lessons, it is careful to instruct us also by exam
ples There is a little child who has begun betimes
to sow the good seed. He had a godly mother,
who said regarding him, "I have lent him to the
Lord; as long as he liveth he shall be lent to the
Lord ;" and it was done according to her vow The

s r; i.

Josiah the King. 17

child "ministered before the Lord." He grew be.
fore the Lord." "The Lord communed with him"
as with the holy prophets; and the boy grew in god-
liness, a blessing and a joy to all around. It was
the child Samuel, who sought God early, who found
Shim, and concerning whom we read in that word of
the Lord which "endureth for ever"-"Samuel
grew, and the Lord was with him, and did let none
of his words fall to the ground."
Or, there is another youth. The people made
him king over a great nation when he was only eight
yeais of age. Yet, surrounded as lie was with the
allurements and the dangers of a court, he "did what
was right in the sight of the Lord," oand turned not
aside to the right hand or to the left." He was
careful to rebuild the ruined temple of his country.
fe removed every vestige of idolatry, and swept the
land clean of all that had defiled it The Spirit of
God was his guide, and he would endure no wicked
thing before his eyes. That was Josiah, who, though
only a stripling king, was yet a mighty man for God;
and as he honoured the Lord, he was honoured by
him. He turned to the Lord with all his heart,
and with all his soul, and with all his might;" and
he was largely blessed in his deed.
Seeing, then, that reason combines with revelation,
and daily experience with all past history, to pro-
claim the importance of vouth, let us try, in a fct

18 The Warning.

chapters, to win and warn the young to be wise in
early years. As is their seed-time, so must their
harvest be: "Sow well, and you will reap well," is a
maxim which is universally true. But neglect such
sowing, and the winter of life will overtake you, as
want overtakes the sluggard. Our little book is
meant especially for the young, and it goes forth to
address them, followed by the prayer, that He who
loved little children, and whose Spirit made Samuel
so early holy, and Josiah so early bold for God, may
bless it to teach them to sow well that they may reap
well; so that they themselves may at last be gathered
hiome to the garner of the Lord, like a shock of corn
when it is fully ripe.


it Hijetrrv da)?fioye.

HE heart of man is like the daughters of the
horse-leech, ever crying, "Give, give." It
was designed to be happy in God; and
unless it be restored to his favour, it would be un
happy and restless though the whole world were its
portion. Youth forgets all that, and is reluctant to
be undeceived. It expects happiness where man
finds only disappointment; it turns away from God
-nay, He is often a weariness to youth, and yet it
hopes to be happy. But to correct that tendency,
let us study the history of a youth whom God
himself had taught where to find his joy.-At one
period there sat thethe throne of Isiael a king of
distinguished wickedness, whose name was Jehoiakim.
A single incident in his life will show how depraved
and how godless he was. It was in his reign that
Jeremiah the prophet lived, and some of his pro-
phecies were conveyed to the king for his waning
and guidance. And hoA did the king proceed?

2o khe Pidfall.

Did he welcome the message, and reverently listen
to the lessons which it brought? Nay; the haughty
persecutor took the scroll which the prophet sent,
he cut it to pieces with a knife, and cast the frag-
ments into the fire. The word of God was hateful
to that unholy man, as it is offensive to all who live
in sin ; and just as wicked men have always perse
cuted the holy when they had the powei, the kin
of Israel tled to burn and destroy the word of the
living God. He did just what Popery is doing still,
and what all men would do whose hearts are not
right with God.
But when that king had destroyed the word of
God, like the cowled demons of the inquisitorial
cell," did he escape from the sword of the Spirit?"
It seemed a weak and a contemptible thing, and
the bold sinner could easily cut it to pieces, or con-
sume it in the flames; but when he had done all
that, did he escape from God himself-could those
Il.ues destroy the truth of God, or turn it into a lie I
Nay; all that the proud sinner could accomplish in
his wrath only helped to hasten forward the fulfil-
ment of every recorded word. It was predicted that
that persecutoi should be ignobly buried with the
burial of an ass." No man was to lament for him,
saying, "Ah, my brother! or, Ah, sister!" "Ah,
lord' or, All, his glory Shame and degradation
were to be his lot: he had torn ani destroyed tile

The Hebreu Boy. 21

word of God; and the destruction which it threatened
was the lot of that destroyer. That sinner dug a
pitfall, and was taken in it himself.
Now, it was during his reign that Nebuchadnezzar
the Bonaparte of his day-besieged and took
Jerusalem, and carried away a part of its sacred
vessels to place them in the house of his gods. At
the same time, he carried away Daniel the prophet
as a captive; and it may teach the young both how
to sow well, and how to reap well, or how a busy
seed-time tends to produce a plenteous harvest, if
we study for a lttle the conduct of that captive
Daniel was but a youth when he was carried to
Babylon to grace the triumph of the conqueror.
Some compute that he was not more than twelve
years of age, while none suppose that he was more
than fourteen. In either case, he was only a boy,
unfriended and alone; and let us follow him to
Babylon, and there learn lessons from his life. Or
the banks of the Euphrates there stood a gorgeous
palace. It was the home of a mighty king-the
conqueror of kings-and into its capacious halls the
spoils of fallen empires were collected. Daniel is
there, a slave to man, but already "made free by
his God. He had been cradled in sorrow-for a
persecutor sat on the throne of his country. He
had seen Jerusalem besieged and sacked: lie had

22 The True Refuge.

been torn from the land of his fathers, and dragged,
perhaps in chains, to a distant house of bondage.
He had to shed many tears-

He was, perhaps, of royal lineage too ; but the more
on that account must he be made a captive, for it
was the purpose of Nebuchadnezzar to humble the
pride of Jerusalem.
But did all this mar the godliness of the captive
boy.l Did he swerve from his purpose, or, having
begun well, did he wickedly fall away Nay, all
that happened to Daniel only pressed him nearer
to his God-only made him more devoted to His
serviceonly urged him to cling the closer to the
arm which could uphold him. In truth, Daniel at
Babylon became one of the holiest of all tEe servants
of the Holy One-"a man greatly beloved." He
was driven to the true Refuge, for lie had no human
help. He sought an asylum under the Rock that is
higher than we; and, youthful as he was, he was
strong in the Lord and the power of his might. The
tluth in his soul bore fruit unto holiness; God was
glorified, and that boy was blessed.
And mark some of the stages by which Daniel,
even while a boy, became thus signahzed. He was
ordered to be fed with a portion of the king's food,
and to drink a portion of the king's wine. But to

The RJigt Standard. 23

Daniel, as r Hebrew, that was pollution. He could
taste nothing that had been consecrated to an idol.
He could touch no kind of food that was forbidden
by the law of Moses, and he therefore resolved, cost
what it might, "not to defile himself with the king's
food." The sovereign might command, but the
captive would not obey. Daniel knew something
more authoritative than the. word of an earthly
monarch, or more attractive than his smile ; and the
firm purpose of the stripling, therefore, was to avoid
the contamination of the palace of Babylon. In
doing so, he might oppose the will of the mightiest
monarch then upon the earth; but what of that,
when he was obeying the King Eternal? He might
be endangering his own life, or he might cause his
fetters to be more tightly riveted; but what of that,
if his conscience was kept free Such fears, then,
and such temptations, had no weight with Daniel.
Nay, he feared God, and had no other fear. It
was not the voice of man, it was the voice of con-
science; it was not the smile of a creature, it was
the smile of God; it was not the prevailing custom
where he dwelt, it was Jehovah's unerring standard,
that that believing boy had madesupreme: and, guided
by that standard, he was steadfast and unmovable
amid all that could befall him. Alone, unfriended, a
captive or a slave, he resolved to brave all that could
happen, rather than defile his conscience by a sin.

24 IT7e HIeroewarded
But Daniel's heroism in doing right has not yet
been all described. He might have courted the
world's smile: he might have shrunk from its frown:
lie might have tampered with its iniquity; and, as
the reward, he might have secured worldly prosperity
at the expense of Jehovah's withering frown. Man-
hood spent in the service of Mammon might have
ended in an old age that was blighted, without one
real blessing, or one solid hope. But, far form that,
Daniel's godliness was decided at every step. When
he proposed to abstain from the king's food, the
courtier who had charge of the boy saw nothing but
disaster in the proposal. Danger rose above danger,
till it appeared that death would be the sure result.
Were the young captive to adopt the course which
conscience said was right, confusion and every evil
work would be the issue. So reasoned the courtly
Ashpenaz; he never asked, what is right or, what
is duty or, what saith the Lord i but ouly, what is
safe I Daniel, however, was not to be moved. Nay,
as he trusted in God, he would put the matter to the
proof: he was ready to use only prisoners' fare, assured
that if he did so in faith, he would not be put to shame.
Feed me on pulse and water; feed another with the
royal dainties ;-and see which shall be the fairest in
the end. That was the stripling's challenge, for he
knew that better is a dinner of herbs, where Gods love
is, than a stalled ox. and strife with the Holy One.



Reapotg inJ)s.. '5

It was thus, then, that Daniel sowed, and hon
did he reap I The holy God was his fear and his
dread; he did not fear the face of man, and what
was the result of his heroism 1 It can be briefly
told. In an age and amid scenes where luxury and
ungodhness were rampant, Daniel held fast his
integrity, and friend after friend was raised up-
heart after heart was opened before him. In the
wondrous providence of that God whom Daniel
feared, Nebuchadnezzar himself became the fast
friend of that youth. Three times did that warlike
king take Jerusalem in war. He overthrew Nineveh
-he destroyed Tyre-he subdued Egypt-he van-
quished the Medes, and cared his arms in the west
even into Spain, in the east to the banks of the
Indus. Yet that mighty prince and warrior became
the friend and protector of this captive boy. And
not only was Nebuchadnezzar the friendly of Danel.
Darius, another conquering king of the Medes, set
his affection upon the prophet. The victorious
Cyrus did the same; in short, the youth had honoured
God, and was not put to shame. He might sow in
tears, but he reaped in joy. He who holds the
hearts of all men in his hands, turned them to favour
Daniel; for when a man's ways please the Lorl,
he makes even his enemies to be at peace with
him." By one resolute purpose-by opposing the
very beginning of in--by simply believing in (od--

26 A Pie Conscen, -

by declining to move by a single hair's-breadth from
the path to which conscience pointed, Daniel cleared
away a thousand obstructions, and escaped from a
thousand snares. It was with him as it had been
with David : He went on, and grew great, and the
Lord was with him." Like Joseph, he was a pros-
perous man;" and the reason was, that his God
was for him. Learning, honour, and power, under
sovereign after sovereign, foi threescore years and
ten at least, were the lot of the devoted-the resolute
the God-fearing Daniel. When he fed on pulse,
he seemed fairer by far than those who fared sump-
tuously every day. The countenance beamed with
joy, for the conscience was not defiled. The eye
was radiant with gladness, and told of the serenity
which reigned within-a joy which all may shale
when they have learned with David to say, God is
our refuge and our strength-a very present help in
trouble;" God shall help us, and that right early."
The worm Jacob can thiash the mountains when he
clings in faith to the arm of the Omnipotent. In
the calm of a pure conscience, and the smile of an
approving God, such a man, both in youth and age,
enjoys a reward which gems and jewel mines could
not buy. Some sow the wind and reap the whiri-
wind; brt they whom God has blessed, sow to the
Spirit, and of the Spirit reap life everlasting.
S0 drk, dark, dlark, ,,mid the blWae or noon,'

Its RReard. 2

is the dilge which may be uttered over those who
trample upon conscience, or ignore the righteous
claims of the Holy One. Thy name shall be
Israel, for as a prince hast thou power with God and
with men, and hast prevailed," is the eulogy of the
youth who feats his God, and has no other fear,
LBt can he have a sound mind who prefers man's
smile to God's -who lives for the pleasures which
"sting like a serpent, and bite like an adder1?"
who, with his own hand, and in spite of every warning,
sows tares, and expects to reap a rich and golden
harvest?-who plunges into sin, and expects to bring
up the pearl of great price 1

@ WE Sim A


things in the history of man are more
painfully touching than the ruin and the
misery occasioned by the misdeeds of
dtLldren. There is a widowed mother: she sits in her
loneliness and weeps-or perhaps her burning eye
balls are too parched to yield the sad relief of tears.
She once wept before, but it was when the delight
of her eyes was taken away with a stroke. They
were the tears of affection shed beside a husband's
grave; and though numerous, they were not scalding.
But now she laments, perhaps, over the reckless
waywardness of an only son, who has forfeited his
life to the laws of his country, and appears not un-
likely to die the death of one hardened in clime.
Or there is a father: his strong soul is bowed to
the earth like a willow before the blast-and why is
he so utterly overwhelmed I It is because one whom
he had fondly cherished, and for whom he had as
fondly hoped well, has become the companion of

So-row from Lhose we Aove. 29

fools, and, by guilt added to guilt, is compelling his
stricken parent in agony to cry with David-" 0 my
son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would God
I had died for thee, 0 Absalom, my son, my son!"
or with the older patriarch-" My gray hairs are
brought in sorrow to the grave."
Or there are an aged pair, far advanced in the pil-
grimage of life, and misery seems to accumulate as
they proceed. They were once in affluence, and the
sun rose and set in gladness on their happy home.
But now all that has vanished away--home, and
happiness, and substance-all have disappeared like
the summer brook. They are tottering forward to
the grave, the imnates of an asylum for the indigent,
or as pensioners on what is often the cold hand of
charity. And what brought them to that condition
of woe It was the misdeeds of a once cherished
boy. We see before us still such an aged heart
broken parent, though twenty years have rolled away
since he was laid in the grave. He is wasted, hag-
gard, and at times scarcely coherent. Ever and
anon he mutters the once favourite name of his boy,
but the sentiments which it awakens are dashed by
the feeling of anguish of which it has become the
veiy prolific origin. We repeat it: of all the woe to
which man is the heir, none can be more poignant,
more crushing, or more deadly, than that which
originates in the misdeeds of children.

30 The Youni Dascip.

But while many have thus to endure the sole an
guish of Eli, others are permitted to rejoice in splnll
over the second birth of those whom they love, and
to hail them as members of that great family which
is named, in heaven and on earth, after Jesus Cllist.
There dwelt, for example, in the Holy Land, eighteen
hundred years ago, a boy, who knew what it was
both to sow well and reap well. As to the first, or
lie sowing, he enjoyed none of the advantages which
children in our day enjoy. There were then no
attractive books for the young, no royal road to
knowledge, no decorated books to allure, and no
illustrated books to simplify. There was no printing
to make learning common-all had to be copied
with the hand of man; and, at a period long subse-
quent to that, some of these written volumes were
as valuable as a whole estate, or would have cost
the income of a parish. But the ardour of that boy
overcame every obstacle, and Timothy, the son and
disciple of the apostle Paul-for it is of Timothy
that we speak-did learn to read. It requires little
effort of the fancy to picture the little group with
which the Scriptures make us acquainted when they
are telling of that boy. His father was a Greek-
that is, a pagan-and perhaps took little interest in
the godly training of his child; but the young Chris
tian of Derbe had others to care for him. His
grandlnothei, Lois, was his early teacher, and it was

The Sa-crd P imer. 31

in the wisdom of God's word that she trained him.
His mother, Eunice, was no less zealous in the same
good work, so that Paul had reason cordially to
speak of the unfeigned faith that was in Timothy,
which dwelt first in his grandmother, Lois, and his
mother, Eunice." The result was, that "from a
child," that favoured boy "knew the Holy Scrip-
tures, which are able to make us wise unto salvation,
through faith which is in Christ Jesus." Through
three generations grace was thus triumphant. The
grandmother, the mother, and the boy, had all
gathered wisdom from the heavenly store; they
had sat down at the feet of the heavenly Teacher.
and experienced the truth of Elihu's exclamation.
"Who teachcth like God "
But how did Timothy learn to read In some
parts of Ireland, where books were not common in
years gone by, it was the custom to teach children
to read in the grave-yards, with the tomb-stones for
their primer, and the chiselled epitaphs for their
lesson. And missionaries have been known to teach
their savage flocks the letters of the alphabet by
tracing them on sand or clay, and making that rude
material serve as a substitute for books. Timothy
and his godly teachers had no such difficulty to sur
mount, yet his way to learning was by no means
smooth. WVe must think of him as "a child,
stretched, perhaps, on the loof of Iia lionc il

32 The Galr ,f Golinss.
Derbc, in the oriental fahlon. Eunce, or Lois, is
beside him. He has a roll unfolded before him
containing the Hebrew Scriptures, or perhaps it is
the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament in
Greek, and lie is busy deciphering first the letters,
then the words, and then the rich full meaning of
the book which made him, and has made millions
besides him, wise unto salvation. And we can
easily picture how that devout boy would be en-
couraged and made glad as he -rad of Joseph, who
sat at Pharaoh's right hand; or Samuel, the prophet;
or David, who, while a stripling, slew Goliath, and
when a man, ascended a throne Little did that
boy then dream that his own name was to take so
conspicuous a place among those who shine as the
stars for ever and ever! But godliness has "tile
promise of the life that now is, as well as of that
which is to come;'' and Timothy found that to seek
wisdom early, according to the word of God, is the
sure path to the reality of glory, honour, and immor-
tality; wlue those who despise that wisdom find only
the counterfeit and shadow.
And having thus sowed well "from a child," how
did Timothy reap? He became the attendant of
the apostle Paul, and again and again did that re-
markable man rark Timothy side by side with him-
self in his holy epistles. He was the apostle's conm
panion in preaching the gospel. He was Pauls

c Martyrl's Dasdh. 33

-son Timothy," or Paul's "own son in the faith."
He was the apostle's "beloved son," his "work-
fellow," his "brother," his very second self. He
"as, moreover, the apostle's companion in bonds,
when they were called to suffer for the truth's sake.
They shared, it would appear, the prisoner's fare,
and wore together the prisoner's chain; so that two
of the strongest ties which link man to man-a com-
mon faith, and common suffering for that faith-knit
these two men to each other, and made them like one
soul. Nor were they far divided in their death.
The tradition is that Paul was beheaded at Rome
for his adherence to the truth; and from the same
source we learn that Timothy suffered martyrdom at
Ephesus-the death of glory, for which thousands in
early ages panted.
But Timothy reaped something better still than
the martyr's crown. The letters which Paul ad-
dressed to him, rank among the most touching por-
tions of the Word of God. Through the son of
Eunice there has come down to each successive
generation of ministers, for eighteen hundred years,
the instructions which the Holy Spiit designed
should fit them for their holy calling; so that even
among the sons of men, the promised "brightness of
the firmament," which is to encircle the godly for
ever, has long encircled him who knew the Ioly
Scriptures from a child, and whom these Scriptures
Io 3

34 Th Ifidld-
made wise unto salvation. Paul once described
Timothy as "faithful in the Lord;" and he stands
out before us now a monument of the Lord's faith-
fulness to those who trust in him before the sons of
But a contrast may here help us to understand
more clearly the close connection which exists be
tween sowing well and reaping well. David Hume
is well known as one of the despisers of God's truth.
He prostituted the powers which God had given
him to the impious purpose of making God a hai.
He denied the Holy Word, though he confessed that
he had never read it; and he reaped his reward m
the plaudits of men who loved, and therefore longed,
to see the Bible proved untrue, or man left without
a Saviour and therefore without a hope.
And while pursuing that career, what were the
opinions which Hume espoused and defended as
better to him than the truth of the Scriptures He
is called a philosopher. What did his philosophy
teach him What did he sow? what did he reap
We give a single example. Hume taught that self-
murder "is but turning a few ounces of blood from
its natural channel,"-in other words, there is no
great harm in destroying ourselves. To swallow
poison, or bleed ourselves to death, or blow out our
brains, is not very wrong;-and that is the man
whom some have praised as a better preacher than

A Contrast. 35

the Bible Timothy was wise unto salvation; Hume
only to the extent of pleading for self murder, or ex-
tenuating its guilt. Timothy sought to turn many
to righteousness; Hume argued to make them
grossly polluted. Timothy sought to throw the
wood of the heahng tree into the bitter waters of
hfe; Hume spent his days and his nights mn making
them more bitter still. Now, which of these was the
true philanthropist? Which the soundest phloso-
pher Which the most rational, happy, and noble-
minded man-the youth who lived for God, or the
man who spoke of his fellow-mortals as if they were
valueless like brutes ? Could we follow them into
the world of spirits, where all is truth and earnest
ness, and where infidelity is for ever at an end,
what would be our estimate of their sowing and
their reaping 1


b1e 5. :...p

HEN Philip Doddridge l as bor, he was
supposed to be without life, and accord-
ingly put aside for burial. In a little
time, however, some symptoms of animation were
accidentally noticed, and means were adopted to in-
vigorate the infant. Sickly and feeble as he was,
these means were crowned with success; and though
he carried with him through life a delicacy of con-
sttution which might often remind him of his feeble
beginning, we know what he lived, and what he was
blessed, to accomplish. To name no more, he was
the author of "The Rise and Progress of Religion
in the Soul,"-a book which has been translated into
most of the modern languages, and been the means
of converting more souls to Christ than perhaps any
other book that could be named, except the Word of
God. It has roused some. It has warned others.
It has enlightened thousands, and helped to guide or
to cheer the earthly pilgrimage of many now in glory.

Agus/tinr 37

Now, what happened to the feeble infant, Philip
Doddridge, takes place in regard to many a soul.
For years, it is not merely pining and feeble; it is
dead-dead to God, or dead in trespasses and sins.
It is as completely cut off from the enjoyment of
God, and from all that constitutes the true dignity,
or the true blessedness of man, as they that are dead
and buried are cut off from the business of life.
When Lazarus lay in the tomb, and when decay had
begun to do its loathsome work, who would have
denied that he was separated by a wide or an im-
passable gulf from the world of living men And it
is the same with the soul as it is born into the world.
The God who made it declares that it is "dead in
But as Lazarus was raised from the tomb by an
almighty word, so may the soul be quickened by an
energy from heaven. It may be made a child of
God by the power of the Holy Spirit; and we are
about to draw attention to a case which illustrates
that most striking change.
AURELIus AUGUSTIE, afterwards Bishop of Hippo,
was born in the year 354, at Tagaste, a town in
Numidia. His father was a heathen; but his mother
was a Christian, and a woman remarkable for heI
faith and piety. She did all that affection could
suggest to promote the best interests of her boy; and
neither example, nor assiduity, nor many prayers,

38 iThe fiee of Conscience.
were wanting to impress him early with a love of
the truth, and with the fear of God. She was
doomed, however, to many years of harassing and
heart-breaking disappointment. It is true, as that
boy lived to confess, that in his early years he was
sometimes haunted by fear, in consequence of his
ungodly ways. Conscience was not wholly dead,
nor wholly silenced ; and it sometimes spoke out for
God in a way which showed at once the smners
determination to sin in spite of it, and the misery
which he was preparing for himself by such a career.
]Iut In spite of conscience, Augustine tells us that
le spurned at all restraints, and grew up m a
wickedness such as few have surpassed. Bloody
games and exhibitions wele then common. He
loved such things with the force of a passion, and
thele fomented those eil desires which made his
mother wretched on his account, and which, in the
end, rendered Augustine himself more wretched
still. Neither her prayers nor her tears were
heeded; but, goaded onward by his mad love of
sin, he walked to the enjoyment of it over a mother's
bleeding heart, and a mother's wounded spirit. So
blinded nas he, that he would have blushed, as he
records, to be thought less wicked than his com-
panions. He even invented false stories of his
sinful exploits, to obtain theil applause. He thus
made such progress in vice as to shut hunself up In

The TIheat'e 39

the darkness of sin, and debar God's truth from
entenng his soul.*
The theatre became one of Augustine's favourite
haunts, and there he was more deeply drenched in
guilt than ever. What he calls the fomentations
of li fire" were there increased, till he grew hackneyed
in crime. He saw sin turned into mockery, and
made a topic of mhth, while all the decorations of
art, and eloquence, ar' poetry, and music helped to
make perdition more pleasing and more welcome.
His early compunctions for sin were soon effaced
amid such scenes. The death of his soul ceased to
give Augustine any concern; and foi nine years, he
says, he rolled in the slime of sin, sometimes attempt-
ing to rise, but only sinking deeper and deeper into
guilt. He rushed," as he confesses, "into the sins
by which he desired to be enslaved." Pride and
arrogance, and the gaudy inanities of his profession,
as a teacher of Rhetoric, inflated his soul. He loved
" gratuitous wickedness," or wickedness for its own
sake, apart from its fancied profits or pleasures; and
his own picture of himself while in that condition is
as powerful as it is dark. "The avidity of doing
mischief from sport, the pleasure of making others
suffer, and that without any distinct workings either
of avarice or revenge"-these things prove how far
Augustine had fallen, how debased he was by iniquity.
Aca ns9.11 cC-r, i a

40 The tWags ,f Iniqit,'.

Much of this had taken place when that youth was
only about fifteen or sixteen years of age. In that
brief period he had grown mature in sin; and though
superstitious fear goaded him at times, he rushed
on without a check. He played, but it was in this
spirit-" Free me from sin, but not yet;" that is, he
wished to sink deeper and deeper into woe before he
was delivered from it-to swallow another draught
of poison ere he applied for an antidote against what
he had already drunk; and with that madness which
makes the sinner hug the very cause of his wretched-
ness, or drag it with him to the edge of the grave,
did Augustine, while little more than a boy, hasten
along the broad road. He was the bold companion
of fools-the victim of his own unsubdued passions
-the sport, as he confesses, of sin in every form.
He was sowing sin, and, by God's decree, the fruit
if sin is woe and the second death.
Such, then, was the seed-time of this youth. He
was busy sowing tares. Night and day he was occu-
pied in fostering all that is noxious to the soul. What
he cultivated was the deadly nightshade. Instead of
rearing, he tried to extirpate, everything that was
good for food or pleasant to the eye. And as that
was the character of Augustine during the spring-
time of his life, what was his condition in the harvest
Was hii case any exception to the remark, What a
man soweth, that shall he also reap"' Did he

The fay of Transgressors is Hard." 41

"gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles"I
He himself shall reply.
Woe and tribulation, bitterness and sorrow were
his lot. He discovered at length that he had sunk
into an horrible pit. He was excluded," he says,
"even from the husks which the swine did eat."
" He was inflamed," he writes, "in his youth, to be
satiated with infernal fires." He found out that he
had turned "his back to the light, and to those
things which really illuminate the face." This man
of genius, of learning, and most subtle mind, once
envied a poor beggar-he bewailed to his friends
the pains and toils, the labour and vexation of his
own lot, compared with that of him who basked by
the wayside, and begged a bit of bread. I found
myself miserable and grieved," is Augustine's cheer-
less confession. "I doubled that misery; so that if
anything prosperous smiled upon me, I was reluctant
to lay hold of it, because it flew away almost as soon
as I could seize it" Nay, more cheerless still; even
when he began to groan under the burden of sin, and
seek deliverance from it, the truth eluded his grasp,
and his wretchedness was augmented from day to
day. He found himself in darkness, and said with
sighs, How long? Still, however, he followed after
objects with which he was now dissatisfied, because
he knew nothing better to substitute in their place.
The fetters which his former ways had riveted tightly

42 The Sinners Anguish.
on his soul now galled and impeded him. He felt
that he should give himself to seek God with heart
and soul; yet thoughts of which sin is both the
parent and the nurse haunted the sinner. "What
if death be the extinction of my being'" was one form
of temptation which assailed him; and though he
repelled that and all similar thoughts, it tended to
fasten him down a little longer to the earth; like the
little bird which flutters to be free that it may soar
and sing in the sky, but finds itself a prisoner to the
devices of some wanton boy.
Augustine thus sought happiness, yet fled from it.
In quest of what he sought, he plunged afresh into
his old sins,* became more miserable than ever in
the mire of pollution, and verified to the letter the
saying of Solomon, when he speaks of sin as biting
like a serpent, or stinging hke an adder. This youth
was now like oe that lies down in the midst of
the sea for rest, or like him that lieth upon the top
of a mast." They have stricken me, and I was
not sick; they have beaten me, and I felt it not:
when shall I awake? I will seek it yet again"-was
his condition. "What were the groanings, the
laboms of my heart!"-is his touching outcry.
" When I silently inquired, I was so distressed and
confounded, that the bitterness of my soul no man
could comprehend by any description I could give."
SAuigusli Cour, 1ib. v,

The Sure Decree. 43

Learned as he was, he was forced to exclaim to a
friend-" Illiterate men rise and seize heaven, while
we, with all our learning, are rolling in the filth of
sin." His sorrownowreached a crisis;andwhenhecol-
Sected all his misery into one view, "a great gloom,"
he says, arose, producing a large flood of tears."
Such is a glimpse, and only a glimpse, of the early
career of Augustine. There are things recorded
concerning him which should not once be named-
and we pass them by in silence. But enough has
been said to illustrate once more the truth, that what
a man sows that shall he also reap. This young
man "rejoiced n his youth, his heart cheered him
in the days of his youth; he walked in the ways of
his heart, and in the sight of his own eyes;" but he
forgot what follows-" know thou that for all these
things God will bring thee into judgment." He
forgot that God has linked suffering to sin, by a law
as sure as that which links shadow to substance in
sunshine. It is, we repeat, the irreversible decree
of the holy God, that a sinner shall be a sufferer; and
the young may as well attempt to lacerate the body
and give it pleasure, or feed it on poison and yet
keep it alive, or plunge it into the depths of the
ocean and yet make it prosper and be in health, as
oppose the holy will of God, and be blessed in their
deed. Augustine felt, to his bitter experience, that
" the wages of sin is death;" anl ohat had been

44 The Great Change.
earned was paid. Be sure your sin will find you
out," is the decree of the unchanging God; and
Augustine found, as every sinner must sooner or later
feel, that that decree will be carried into effect as
surely as God is true, and the same yesterday, to-
day, and for ever." Would youth be happy? Then
be God the guide of our youth. Would old age be
honoured 1 Then till hoary hairs let God be He.....
If we consecrate our earliest days to Him, our latest
will be our best.
But Augustine at last became a signal monument
of mercy. Like a brand he was plucked from the
burning. The grace of God visited and redeemed
him, and he could say at last, I ascribe it to Thy
grace that Thou hast melted my sins as ice is
melted." Serenity came after the storm, and the
man once infatuated or spell-bound learned to say,
" My mind was set free from corroding cares, and I
communed in playful case with Thee, my Light,
my Riches, my Saviour, and my God."-" Thy
truth was distilled into my heart; the flame of piety
was kindled, and my tears flowed for joy." He lived
under the guidance of that Spirit whom he called
" the inner Master of the inner man;" yet he always
bore about with him, and carried to the grave, the
scars of his former fighting against God, or the marks
of his former chains. There still lived in his memory
the images of evils to which he had been habituated.

Monia. 45

They occurred to him even in his sleep; so that
Augustine, the converted man, the self-sacrificing
pastor, the learned doctor, whose influence has now
spread over fifteen centuries, had to pass up to his
place among the pardoned through a cloud of grievous
affliction. He had long panted for heaven-for he
ihved till he was seventy-six years of age-and his
longings to depart were quickened by a bitter taste
of the evils of a world whose sins, for a season, he
had so zealously helped to argument. God will be
true, and every man a liar, and Augustine, converted
and unconverted, alike warns us to sow well, if we
would reap well-to give our youth to God, if we
would spend our time in happiness, our eternity in
No better opportunity can occur for showing to
the young the power of a mother's example, or the
ascendency of a mother's influence, than is afforded
by the case of Augustine and his mother, Monica.
It was the saying of West the painter, in reference
to a kiss which his mother gave him for one of his
juvenile works-" That kiss made me a painter."
Her smile attached the mmnd of the boy to that
pursuit on which he was predisposed to enter; it was
a bland persuasive, and the young artist yielded to
its gentle, dew-like power. And the same may be
said of a mother's influence in other spheres. Amid
all the waywardness of Augustine, Monica nevce

46 A Molt ris l'rc:

forsook either him or the throne of grace on his
behalf She followed him from place to place, to be
his guardian angel everywhere; and though ie often
deceived her, that he might rush unchecked into sm,
or revel in iniquity, she nevel wearied-only once
did she waver. But hien conversing with a minister
of Christ regarding the wayward object of her affect
tion, she was encouraged by his reply to persevere,
and lived to see at last that her prayers were answered,
the prodigal was reclaimed, and the son that had
been lost was found. She had taken hold of Omni-
potence on his behalf, and he was at last delivered.
While his guilt was immeasurably increased by the
conduct which trifled with a widowed mother's affec-
tions, and walked to sin over her very heart, the
triumph of faith was on that account the more signal
and complete. While many a parent, in effect,
causes his child to pass through the fire, by training
him for the world, Monica rescued her son from the
fearful pit, by "giving God no rest" on his behalf.
And surely, if a mother might address her dying
child as she closed his fading eye, with the words,
" I wish you joy, my darling," the mother of Augustine
might exult in a similar spirit, when she saw him an
unfettered slave, standing fast in the liberty whicl
Christ bestows-a tree of the Lord's planting, and
bearing fruit unto holiness, to the praise of the grace
of his God.


the inscription which may be read on the
tombstone of a departed son. It stand
on a lovely spot near the monument of Francis
Jeffrey, and is surrounded by a glorious panorama of
sea, and city, and mountains far and near. Yet
none of these material things affect one so deeply as
the simple words, "The token of a mother's love."
They remmd us of the saying of Luther, that there
is nought on earth so lovely as a woman's heart, with
God's grace to guide its love; and oh, how much
can a heart so loving, and so guided, achieved oi
rather, what can it not accomplish No doubt some,
the basest, and the furthest fallen of men, can trample
on a mother's heart, and disregard her deepest feel
ings ; but if aught but Omnipotence could arrest a
sinner on the way to ruin, or win him back to God,
it would be the power of a mother's affection, armed
as it is with a might which nothing but the extreme

48 The Mine's Sao
of degiadatiol can resist. We are now about to
tl.ce the history of one who owed not a little to his
mother,-we mean the reformer LUTHER;-and let
us view him, first, in the season of sowing; and,
secondly, in the season of reaping; or the spring and
the autumn of his earthly existence.
On the plains of Mansfeld, and by the banks of
the Wipper, about the year 1488, a boy might be
seen at play, who was destined to rank among the
greatest of the sons of men. He was then about
five years of age, and the poverty of his parents soon
obhged him to forsake his sports, and adopt some
means of procuring a livelihood for himself. He
was early trained in the fear of God; and his father,
who was intelligent, though poor, resolved to attempt
to make his son Martin a scholar. He often prayed
by the boy's bedside, and at last, after invoking the
Divine blessing upon him, sent him away to a school,
where, though he was grave and attentive, "his
master one morning beat him fifteen times in succes-
sion." The impetuosity of his temper exposed
Martin Luther to temptation; and the rule then was,
to restrain by force and pain rather than by kindness.
Even his mother once corrected him about a filbert
till the blood came. Though it has been said of her
that "she patterned the widow of Sarepta, and trained
her son in- the fear of the Lord," she too literally
obeyed the maxim of not sparing the rod. No

The fYke Beina Youth. 49

wonder, then, that fear became a ruhng passion in
that keen boy's mind. We read that, even when he
heard the name of the gentle Saviour, ihe grew pale
with terror. The compassionate Redeemer had been
described to young Luther as an angry Judge; for
Popery thus perverts the history of Him who will not
break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking
When this ardent boy was about fourteen years of
age, lie was accustomed to sing from house to house
to procure a morsel of bread. He has himself told
us that he had to beg. Providence, however, found
for him a home in the bosom of a Christian family,
where his powers expanded, and his heart began to
beat with life, and happiness, and joy. Once a
begging boy, he is on the way to eminence, because
he is cultivating the powers which God had given
him; aid when his teacher, Trebonius, uncovered
his head and made his bow, as he always did, in the
presence of his boys, he had mole reason to do
obeisance than lie at all supposed, at least in icgard
to the class in which young Martin Luther stood.
At an early period he had serious thoughts of God.
He felt his dependence upon Him. He often fel-
vently asked the Divine blessing on what he did.
He began each day with player, then proceeded to
church, then hastened to study, and, throughout the
day, assiduously employed ,ery waking hour. But
"L1 4

50 Earne, bif not Conerted

he was not yet a child of God. Conscience might
be quick, fear might be strong, prayer might be
talent, but nature could make Luther all that, it
might not be tile wk of tihe HolT )pilit, and cone-
quintly it was not Christian. In the library at Elfut,
however, a discovery was made which was to change
the whole tenor of his being One of the volumes
which he opened there was a Bible. It was the fist
lie had eve seen, for Popery hides the Word of God
ahlke from young and old Luther read, he miked,
lie read again, and now the spell Is broken, his soul
ill soon be on the wing! Sickness came in his
case, as in that of the modern Luther, Thomas
Chalmers, to deepen these impressions and solemnize
the soul; and though no one who knows what con-
velsion is would say that Luther was yet converted,
impressions are made whichh it will not be easy for
him to erase,-a hand has taken hold of him from
which it will not be eass to escape The favour of
God now 1ccame the one thing needfid. Conscience
eas loused. He trembled as before the Judge; and
when the question lose fiom his heart to his lip,
" Am I sure that I enjoy the favour of God con-
science loudly answered, No. He lost a friend by
the hand of an assassin, and now the inquiry was,-
What would be my lot were I suddenly cut down as
Alexis was Next, a thunder-storm overtakes Luther;
he is terrified, and vows to enter a convent. There,

A Convent, ol Christ, fed to 51

lie think,, he will escape from sin; he u ll become
holy, and so prepare himself for heaven, lortifica
tion, fasting, vigils, penance, selfinflicted woe, al,
to do again what the death of the Son of God had
done already! Self-siiation, selferighteousness, the
Redeemer dethroned, and man in his place-behold
the objects aimed at by Luthei, and by croedI
besides, in entering a convent! The menial otfices
which lhe performed, the drudgery to which he sib
mitted, and the insolence which he endured fiom
stupid monks, were all like a price offered to Him
who imntes us to come "without money and ilthoii
price at all. Young Luther was not yet a Christian.
He did not know that it is not a convent, but Christ,
that save the soul.
At length, honexer, the Word of God began to
assert its own supemacy. Inll his convent Luthei
found another Bible, fastened by a chain to a part,
cular spot, and that was his place of frequent resort
Still he did not sr ingly understand the Scriptmes
He read like the bhid groping for the wall; he
scarcely even saw men like trees walking; he was
still a monk of the intensest kind. and he has care-
fully recorded, that "if ever a monk had got to
heaven by monkery, Luther would have been he.'
Yet fear haunted him still. His conscience grew
more enlightened, its condemnation was therefore
more loud; and the young monk sank into despair

5 "'Var i s the IHep of Ma "

when lie could find no righteousness within, and
knew of no righteousness without. A moral tempest
swept over his soul, and Luther was driven of the
wind and tossed. The smallest faults were now
regarded as great sins. In a word, he says, I
tormented myself to death to procuic peace with
God, but, surrounded with fearill darkness, I nowhere
found it." How could he find it, when he was not
seeking it where alone it can be found-in the
Saviour of the lost? But God was thus training
Luther for his future work. He was to know that
vain is the help of man, that a retreat into a cloister
is not conversion, that self-inflicted torture is but
another form of sm: he must either get possession
of something higher and better, or perish in his
unrelieved misery.
And at length deliverance came. A man of
wisdom and of experience-in short, a Chnrstlan-
visited Luthers convent, and soon discovered
Luthei' condition. "Instead of making a maityr
of thyself for thy faults," this visitor said, "throw
thyself into the arms of the Redeemer. Confide in
Him, in the righteousness of his life, and the
expiation of his death. Keep not back. God is not
angry with thee-it is thou who art angry with God,"
iere his wise and soothing words. Such counsels
plovcd the balm of Gilead to that wounded spirit;
and the Scriptures; so dark or so terrifying before,

Ldhe's Reafing Time. 53

became "an agreeable sport, and the most delightful
recreation." He had found Christ in them, and that
made him leap for joy. "Oh, my sin, my sin, my
sin!" exclaimed the monk.' "Know that Jesus
Christ is the Saviour even of those who are great,
real sinners," rejoined the brother born for adversity.
Luther now saw light in God's light, and his soul
began to magnify the God of his salvation "It is
impossible to comprehend God out of Jesus Christ;'
and that truth received into his heart, filled it with
peace and joy in believing Luther was now a
Christian. The Spirit of God had showed him the
things of Christ, and Christ had become "all his
Thus, then, did Luther sow in tears, now hoping,
and again despairing; now seeking to lean on some
creature for help, and then driven by the law of God
from that refuge of lies. But consider next how he
reaped, after his days and nights of toil. Never
a more abundant harvest on earth than his. He
grasped the Word of God, he laid it up in his heart,
and it literally became the seed of the kingdom in
his soul. He became a man whose word made tihe

Iit iirvethe pre ence of e the "one Spra" o nottee how idml e r

m~lssionaw "Th gentnles of my ,ins imkes my hleart as hean as

54 Kings of the Earth
world resound, and who shook even the temble
Papacy to its basis. It is true, Luther once begged
foi a bit of bread, but it is as true that God chooses
weak things to confound the mighty. To be great
we must begin with being little, and God set this
man among princes at last. Having taken into his
heart the great central truth, that Christ, and Christ
alone, is the Sa iour of sinners-a truth almost wholly
buried under the conuptions of Pope)y-Luthel
went forth conquering and to conquer, and never
halted till he had subdued a large portion of
Europe by that truth Joyous, hearty, and happy
amid all his trials, he burned the Pope's bulls, lie
dened the Pope's powci, he opposed the Pope's
emissaries; in particular, he resisted one who had
been sent out from Rome to sell to the Germans
Indulgences in sin, and, in that holy war, he eman-
cipated millions i Christendom. By the blessing
of God, Luther, in short, accomplished what no man
since the days of the apostle Paul had achiet ed.
There is a brilliant assemblage convened at
Worms; it is designed to suppress the progress of
Luthci triumphs. All that is reckoned great and
gorgeous on earth was theie. An empeoi, Charles
V., in whose dominions the sun never set, preshled;
six electors of his empire were present; twenty-four
dukes ere there, with thirty archbishops and
bishops seven ambassadors; and among them one

Combined .aw..f/ //h Truth. 55

fiom nglanii ThI e inunos of the Pope swelled the
loIdly crord, till two hundred and four prisonages,
with an emperor at their head, formed the tribunal
before which Mfartin Luther, the poor and solitary
monk, was to appear for God and truth. And wat
he put to shame Nay. Advance in the name
of God," whispered one to him, "and fear nothing
-God will not forsake you;"-and Luther advanced
The Pope had cor imned him, but God stood by
lim I Lute r wa under the ban of Antichist; but
ie who is a sun and shield was near him to shelter.
The Pope had doomed him to perpetual silence;
Luther .is about to speak to hundreds of assembled
pinces. One of these eiy princes said to him,
"Fear not them who can kill the body, but cannot
kill the soul"--and he was comfoted Startled for
a breath before such an assemblage, but ioon calm
again, because "stayed upon God," Luthcr did his
duty, and feared no evil. "OGod! 0 (od! 0 thou
my God !" was a clause in his prayer at one of these
appearances "Assist me against all the wisdom of
the world ..... The cause is thine; and it is just and
everlasting 0 Lord, be my help. Faithful God,
immutable God, I trust not in man ..... Stand by
my side, for the sake of thy well-beloved 1So, JeIsu
Chiist, nho is my defence, my buckler, and my
fortiesse" As be 11us tlusted in God, he was helped.
HIe was, in 9hort, nlth God: and hefiCe thie alc,-

56 Th'e VidcAy of fi/lk

tribunal he was kept serene and selfpossessed.
Prayer-at least the answer to it-had made him
great and strong. When asked-would he retract
his views he replied, without violence, calmly,
meekly, and modestly, but with great firmness, in the
very presence of the emperor-that till lie was con-
futed by the writings of the prophets and apostles,
he would not; but were that done, he added, "I will
forthwith retract all my errors, and be the first to
seize my writings and commit them to the flames."
" I neither can nor will retract anything, for it is not
safe for a Christian to speak against his conscience."
Then, gazing on the assembly before which he stood,
and which held his life in its hands, Luther ex-
"The writings of the prophets and the apostles,"
-these formed Luther's stronghold. From these he
would not be dislodged, for he felt that God was in
them of a truth. Behind that breastwork he could
cope with and conquer emperors, princes, and poten-
tates of every degree Before the truth, the power
even of the Papacy quailed. Upheld by it, Luther
fought the good fight of faith at Worms; and through
all his heroic pilgrimage, till he died in peace, he was
kept steadfast by that anchor; he was safe behind
that high tower. He had sowed indeed in tears, and
tears he often shed. both over sin within and sin

The Monk a-d th R/mPerr, 57

around him, for few ever strove as he did to keep a
place for God m God's own world. But, by God's
grace, Luther succeeded; and in his own day, in our
day, and till time shall be no more, his struggles
will he found to be the means of emancipating, ex-
alting, or purifying the minds of ten thousand times
ten thousand. Such was, such is, and such will be,
Luther's harvest. "God help me, for I can retract
nothing."-Oh, had our youth the grace and the
heroism to imitate that example to hold fast God's
holy Word amid the scoffs and the taunts of godless
companions, how bright would be the prospects of
the future! In the Hall of Worms there was a
mighty emperor, but there was a mightier monk.
And whymightier' Because the Redeemer kept his
word-" Lo, I am with you always And is he not
present still, to strengthen, to counsel, and to shield
all who place their confidence in him? Was "that
solitary monk who shook the world" an exceptive
case Nay. Were we hke him-as faithful to our
God, and as resolute in clinging to his arm-it would
be seen how rich a harvest we should reap. Is not
God's wisdom still ample Is not God's righteous-
ness still all that we can ask or think? Is not God's
strength still sufficient? Is not his Son still and for
ever his unspeakable gift? And all these are ours, if
we sow as Luther did, to the Spirit, and live as Luther
did, unto God.


itit (l

is not very common to find godlinss on a
S throne. The Scriptmtes, indeed, tell kings
to be wise. They assure us that kings
shall yet be the nursing fathers of the Church, and
thus point us forward to the time when at the name
of Jesus every knee shall bow. They say that "not
many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not
many noble, are called;" but, there are some: and,
in the fulness of time, we know, the kingdoms of this
world will yet become the kingdoms of the Lord and
of his Christ.
Let us now glance at the history of a king who
anticipated those days of glory, and, by the grace of
God that was in him, strove to make his kingdom
truly a portion of the kingdom of Christ. It is well
known that that was the character of Edward VI of
England, and if we consider how well he sowed, and
how abundantly he reaped, the happy lot and life of
a child of God may become more and more p-

Early Goodnss. 59

parent, or be more and more commended to the
That prince was born in the year 1547, and though
his father was the fierce and fiery Henry VIII., the
youth was early placed under the guardianship of
able and godly instructors. At the age of six, Sir
Anthony Cook, who is described as a sincere friend
to the gospel, became Edward's tutor, and afterwards
he found a noble counsellor and friend in Archbishop
Cranmer-in that honest and worthy prelate who had
not feared to uplift his testimony to the truth of the
gospel before the nobles and statesmen of England,
though most of them had had their hearts corrupted
by the evil influences of Romanism. Under such
admirable supervision he made a rapid progress, and
when but nine years of age could write letters in
French and Latin. But it is not merely early scholar-
ship ; it is early goodness that signalizes Edward VT.
That the Spirit was his teacher, is manifest from much
that he wrote and did; while his reverence for the
Word of od, the fountain of all good, is sufficiently
attested by the well-known fact, that when a Bible
was placed for him to stand on that he might reach
some object which he wished to examine, he declined
to place Iis foot upon it, remaikmg that it should
lather be treasured up in his head and his heart.
When Edward was only in his tenth year his father
died, so that at that tender age this young prince

6 TleRnglish josiah.

ascended a throne amid keen contending factions.
Archbishop Cranmer then reminded him of Josiah's
youthful zeal in reforming his Church and land,
and urged King Edward to make the King of Israel
his model. Nor was he averse to act on the advice;
and on the very day of his coronation, lie showed to
what he looked for guidance. Three swords were
borne before him, emblematic of his three kingdoms;
but the young monarch wished a fourth-the Sword
of the Spirit, the Word of his God. To that he
traced up all his power; and he told his courtiers,
that "he who rules without the Word of God is not
to be called God's minister, or a king." The Bible
was accordingly carried before him, as at once the
charter of his rights and the guide of his life.
His correspondence with Cranmer, when only a
child, enables us to see further still into the heart of
Edward. He told that prelate, that "he considered
godliness as a thing to be desired and embraced by
him above all things;" and when one so young
acted resolutely on that maxim, we need not wonder
to hear it said, that at no subsequent time was reli-
gion more generally prevalent in England than in the
days of Edward VI. The country was adorned and
enlightened by the Word of God. The mass, that
Dagon of Popery, began to fall; images were swept
away, and other forms of superstition abolished.
Amid all this, the king, though only eleven years of



Apery and is Struggis. 61

age, was studiously preparing for his kingly functions
by acquiring knowledge regarding his realm; and to
some of the wisest of his subjects the royal boy
appealed for information n such subjects as the
following: Whether religion, besides promoting the
glory of God, be not also the best means of promot-
ing civil orderly Indeed, such sohdity of judgment,
and such deference to God in one so youthful, and
surrounded by so many snares, are more like some
embellished legends than simple historical facts; they
could scarcely be credited, were there not documents
of that period still in existence which prove beyond
a question that Edward VI. was all that we have said.
A foreign divine once told him to "hold it an un-
doubted truth, that true prosperity was to be obtained
by him in no other way than by submitting himself
and his whole kingdom to Christ, the highest Prince;"
and the monarch of England delighted to act on the
Nor was the advice unnecessary. The intrigues of
Papists, struggling then as now for power, threatened
to embroil the kingdom. Other plots thickened, so
that, though Edward strove to show that "by God
do kings reign," he was not without the tribulation
which is the way to the kingdom above, to monarchs
and menials alike.
He was now thirteen years of age, and, compared
with youth of the same age now, King Edward may

62 A Moodd.

oe classed among men of erudition; while "the mani-
fold grace of God that was in him shone more con
spicuous than even his learning. He wrote to one
of his subjects, at that time in Fiance, to "'egaid
the Scripture, or some good book, and give no rever-
ence to the mass a all." In a word, the secular and
the spiritual were beautifully blended mi the attain-
ments of King Edward. His kingdom and his soul
were attended to as before God, each in its own
place; and no finer character can attract the regard
of the youthful student of history than that of
Edw ard, the successor of such a king as the tyranni-
cal Henry VIII., the predecessor of such a queen as
the bloody Mary.-As those of Edward's age roam in
quest of health on the mountain-side, they may have
noticed some gentle little flower-the wood anemone,
forget-me-not, or heart's-ease-seeking a shelter in
that inclement spot under the shade of some tall
shrub, while overhead the curlew's plaintive cry may
sound like a wall oic the lonely thing. So lonely
wai Edward VI. in that high sphere which lie giaced
to well, but where so many strove to draw him from
his steadfastness. That he held fast his integrity,
however, is certain;-it is proved by the fact that he
offered John Knox a church in London, though that
bold man had reproved, in a sermon, the misconduct
of the Duke of Northumberland, and the Marquis of
Winchester, even to their face.

Clds and Darrkness. 63

But all tius promise was about to be blighted-a
dark portentous cloud was gathering over England
and the Reformation. In 152, symptoms of con
gumption began to appear in tie king; and as we
have seen how assiduously, and with how many
prayers he sowed, let us now consider how he
reaped. He, if ever one, sought God early--he, if
ever one, employed the seed-time well and wisely;
and what was his reward when his autumn so sud-
denly came?
His anxiety to secure a Protestant successor, in
the event of his own death, perhaps led Edward to
adopt some unwise or impolitic steps; but i as lar
as the accounts of his closing hours have reached us,
"they were peace." He appeared, indeed, to be
cut off in the midst of his days, but no doubt

e led i Jl h1s g-rat -w.ork kas ,"

and the manner of his death shows how Ilpe he as
for a bette a bottcr and a brighter crown than that of Eng
land. He had endowed Christs Hospital, in London,
for scholars; St. Bartholomew's for the sick and the
maimed; Bethlehem for the insane, and allotted
Bridewell for the idle and the dissolute; and when
he attached his signature to the deeds, with a dying
youth's trembling hand, lie thanked God that he had
lived to do it. But he had to address himself to yet
more solemn work-he had to die; and about three

64 The Last Prayc.
hours before his death, the royal boy offered up the
following prayer.-
Lord God, deliver me out of this miserable and
wretched life, and take me among thy chosen.
Howbeit, not my will, but thine be done. Lord, I
commit my spirit to thee. O Lord, thou knowest
how happy it were for me to be with thee; yet, for
thy chosen's sake, send me life and health, that I
may truly serve thee. O my Lord God, bless thy
people and save thine inheritance! O Lord God,
save thy chosen people of England. O my Lord
God, defend this realm from Papistry, and maintain
the true religion, that I and my people may praise
thy holy name; for thy Son Jesus Christ's sake."
In spite of all his boasted independence, man is
only a combing plant-a parasite. Left to himself,
he trails along the earth-he grovels in the dust; but
clinging, as the vine-tree clings to the espalier, or the
clm, he mounts and soars till he has reached the
topmost bough, and then you may see his tendrils
still shooting up into space, as if he would mount,
and climb, and soar yet further. Edward VI. was a
plant of this class. He clung close to the Plant of.
Renown, and by its help we have seen how soon he
shot up to the stature of perfection.
Now, were it not a blessed thing were youth in
every sphere to be as early decided as this British
Josiah"? Though events occurred in his reign which

A Contrast. 65

all will deplore, Edward was preserved from many
entanglements by his early resolution to be for God,
and not another; and it would be the same with all,
were all decided like him. Surely no one ever re
gretted being too early saved! Surely, surely no one
ever lamented being too soon ripe for heaven! As
the young tree is easily bent, and the brook at its
spring-head easily turned aside, godliness may be
more easily learned in youth than age; and we give
it as the result of twenty years' experience, that we
have known few old men converted-we can name
only one in all that time. On the other hand, the
early godliness of Edward VI. seems to beckon the
young to be followers of him in the narrow way; and
if his case do not allure, are there not others which
may well terrify or drive I once saw a man
dying," said a mister of Christ, who was a terror
to himself and all who saw him. He was not thought
a very wicked man. But the king of terrors soon
made him think and tremble. Behind him he saw
nothing but a life spent without love to Christ, and
before him he saw nothing but the wrath of an
angry God; in his body he felt nothing but pain and
weakness, and in his soul nothing but remorse and
despair. He rolled about his wild eyes, and smote
his bieast, and wrung his hands. He cried for par-
don, and spoke some dreadful words about eternal
damnation, and then groaned, trembled. and died."
U) 5

66 he Dealt of a Sinner
Now, will the young contrast this death-scene with
that of King Edward?
Will they decide which death they would prefer to
die-the death of the royal boy, breathing out his
soul to God who gave it; or of the guilty man,
blaspheming himself into a darker eternity?
Will they answer the question, Is it not madness
to delay?
Entangled in the world, and lost for ever; or
conquerors over the world through the grace which
came by Jesus Christ -which should the young, if
they be wise, prefer



N climbmg the cone of Mount Vesuviusr

L molten lava may sometimes be seen creep
ng slowly down the slope. When the eruption is
violent, the matter which it discharges either fall
in fiery showers, or rushes down the mountain witli
a speed from which it is difficult to escape. But in
calmer states of the volcano, the stream is sluggish,
if it may be called a stream at all.
On the molten matter it is easy to stamp any
impression that may be desired. The contents of
Mount Vesuvius at times so wild and desolating, may
thus be shaped into graceful figures, such as may
ornament the halls of monarchs, or adorn the persons
of their queens. In other wolds, by management
and care, what would be dangerous and destructive
is converted into a decoration. When the lava is
taken at the proper time, it may be rendered not
imrely harless, but a ource of wealth, or of plea-
sure and enjoyment.

68 Sir Matthew Hae.

And it is the same m regard to the mind of man.
Take it when tender and impressible, and you may
mould it at pleasure; let it become fixed and rigid,
and it will mock your utmost power. Let us now
study the life of an eminent man who was thus early
Sm MarvHE HALE, the renowned Lord Chief-
Justice of England," was one of those men who are
raised up from time to time, as if to tell the world,
by a living example, what true Christianity is.
Though he was engaged in a profession which ranked
among the most engrossing of all, and lived in an
age when the minds of men were greatly disturbed
by civil commotions, he still held fast his integrity.
He was a burning and a shining light; and both
Oliver Cromwell and Charles II. rejoiced to do him
honour. Would the young learn how to be steadfast
and unmovable, or how to fear God, and have no
other fear Let them study with care the life of
Judge Hale, first in youth, and secondly in manhood
-or, first in the seed-time, and then in the autumn
of his earthly existence.
He was born in the year 1609, and lost his mother
before he was three years of age, his father before he
was five. He was religiously trained, however, by
some pious relatives, and became an extraordinary
scholar, both at school and at Oxford. As too often
happens, some incidents took place in his youth

The Escape. 69

which, for a time, enticed him from the path on
which he seemed to have entered. He appeared to
choose his portion among some of those whom the
holy God so often declares to be fools. He seemed
to be in training to pour

The g of hom hs hunguadd soul.e
But young Hale was soon set free from these tram-
mels, and adopted resolutions concerning them which
he was enabled to keep throughout his subsequent
career. He also had felt that evil communications
corrupt good manners; and when he experienced
their degrading effects, he broke loose from them at
once, to rejoice in the freedom which can be enjoyed
only by the holy and the pure.
It was when he was about twenty years of age that
Hale became deeply sensible of the folly of those
paths in which most of the young are prone to walk.
He then abandoned the habits which had been grow-
ing upon him in spite of his early training, and be-
took himself so resolutely to study as a lawyer, that
for many years he read at the rate of sixteen hours
each day. This happy change in the soul of Hale
was wrought by means of a lawyer in London, whom
experience had taught the costly price which man
must pay for sinning. The father of that lawyer had
disinheited him for the vices of his youth, and a
younger and a better brother succeeded to the family

70 Decision, and its Cause.
estates. Mortified by this, Glanvil began solemnly
to reflect on his conduct, and a thorough revolution
was ere long wrought in his life. When the younger
brother saw the blessed change, he invited his own
and his brother's friends to a feast, and when the
party assembled, there were found under the cover
of the disinherited youth, the titles to his estate, thus
formally restored by his brother! He had done
what he was sure their common parent would have
done, had he lived to see the happy change which
came over that youth, whose own experience thus
fitted him to act as a friend and a counsellor to
Matthew Hale when in danger of yielding to tempta-
tion. That disinherited youth, when he gave way to
vice, had sown the wind, and reaped the whirlwind,
and his case was a warning to all who can reflect.
He could speak because he had felt, and some were
wise to listen.
But young Hale was rendered still more decided
in his religion by an event which happened to one of
his companions. He was suddenly taken ill in
Hale's presence, and supposed to be dead. As
that youth had brought his illness on himself by his
own hand, Hale immediately withdrew to another
apartment, where he fell upon his knees and cried
for mercy.-It was the deciding point in his history;
and from that event his time was divided between
religion and the duties of his profession. To show

Sabbath Leve. 7

how watchful he now became in regard to his soul,
it maybe mentioned, that habits were formed at this
period in which he persevered through life, insomuch
that for six-and-thirty years he never was absent for a
single Sabbath-day from the house of God. He
revered that sacred institution as one of Heaven's
most blessed gifts-the very queen of days.
But the plan of life adopted by this youth may
enable us to understand how laboriously he sowed
beside all waters. One of his regulations was, to
renew his covenant with God in Christ from time to
time, and by renewed acts of faith, to receive Christ,
and rejoice over his relation to him. Another was,
to set a sleepless watch over his infirmities and
passions, as well as the snares which were laid in his
way. A third was, to serve God in his ordinary call-
ing, and to "mingle somewhat of God's" in all that
he did. A fourth regulation was, to review the
evidences of his personal salvation and the state of
his soul from time to time. By these and similar
resolutions, carried out with admirable perseverance,
lie reduced his mind to great subordination, and was
able to blend the service of God with his most ordi-
nary studies. Indeed, his common duties were
religion, so that his soul became like a well-watered
garden-" a garden inclosed." Though careful never
to parade his religion like the hypocrite, he was as
careful not to hide it under a bushel like the man

72 "A Frtfid Bough."
Iho is ashamed of Chtist. Nay, he sought to do
good unto all as he had opportunity, and was richly
rewarded by Him who judges righteous judgment.
One of Hale's acquirements deserves tobe specified
as a model-he never wasted time. When weary
with the study of law, or of divinity, he turned foi
rest to philosophy, or mathematics, and thus acquired
such knowledge as added many embellishments to
his more solid acquirements. In no respect, per-
haps, have the complaints of men been more deep
or loud, after the Spirit of God has made them wise,
than regarding mis-spent time. As Hale grew up to
manhood, he effectually put away all ground for that
complaint; and it may be safely said, that no man
ever arrived at excellence worthy of the name who
did not act as Hale did.
It was thus, then, that this eminent judge was pre-
pared for the high position which he held, and his
life is another illustration of the trth, that godliness
has the promise of the life that now is, as well as of
that which is to come." As a judge, it was one of
his maxims, "Not to rest on his own understanding
or strength, but to implore and rest on the direction
and strength of God;" while another was-" Not to
be solicitous as to what men might say or think, pro-
vided he kept himself exactly according to the rule
of justice;" and guided by these two, he moved on-
wards in the even tenor of his way, till he rose to one

Thre Iairi 73

of the highest positions which a British subject could
hold. He adorned it with unusual godliness, and
left a memorial of his virtues, such as too few have
been known to leave. Like Joseph, "he was a fruit
ful bough; a fruitful bough by a well, whose branches
run over the wall "
How, then, did this devout and well-trained lawyer
reapt We have seen how he laboured during the
seed-time of his life, and learned that sixteen hours
each day were given to God, and to study; What,
then, was his reward? Did he reap sparingly or
bountifullyI Was his a meagre or a rich reward for
serving God with so much assiduity?
When only forty-four years of age, Hale was
raised to the bench by Oliver Cromwell, who prized
his ability and admired his worth. In i67r, Charles
II. made him Lord Chief-Justice of England; but,
amid the engrossment of such spheres, where his
judgments were characterized by singular equity, he
found time to devote his great powers to God in yet
another way. That was in preparing his "Contem-
plations," a book which evinces at once his godliness
and his grandeur of mind. He was, as we have
seen, a conscientious observer of the Sabbath. He
was as conscientious in walking in the footsteps of
the Hebrew captain, who said, "Whatsoever others
may do, as for me and my house, we will serve the
Lord." Amid these exercises, he sometimes spent

74 77te I ,AAwed.
whole hours on the Sabbath in private devotion, and
his "Contemplations" are the fruit of these hours.
By means of them he is still speaking to men-still
proclaiming how much man may do for God when
the heart is right with Him, and how perfectly con-
sistent pure and undefiled religion of the highest
order is with all the activities of life, or with the
duties of high office as well as of more lowly spheres.
But the time came when Hale must retire from
public lfe, and the reward which he had reaped, or
was reaping, for his godliness, then became apparent.
The general satisfaction which all the kingdom felt
at his administration of justice induced the king,
who delighted to honour the judge, to decline receiving
the resignation of the upright and godly man, as long
as he could be induced to hold office; and soon
after he had resigned, a special order from the king
perpetuated his salary during his life. Even a dis-
solute and unprincipled monarch could not but
reverence the man who continued unsulhed amid all
that was corrupt in his age; and when Hale at last
withdrew into retirement, he was followed by the
acclamation of all. It is not always that the godly
are favourites with the world, for it loves only its
own; but Hale was an exception-his sanctity awed
men into respect.
And, amid the quietude of a private sphere, he
led a life of strict devotion, for he was one of those

The Eulogy. 75

who can pray without ceasing, and who have tie
kingdom of God within them. As greatness had
not corrupted, so decay scarcely enfeebled his soul,
and he walked to the grave robed
Sin that ,ir ba, .l, hich no e. e c CE

When near the entrance to the valley of the shadow
of death, he was known to be in habitual communion
with that world of spirits and of glory on which he
was about to enter, and even till hoary hairs his
God was with him. He had "carefully considered
the poor," for he gave them the tenth of all his
income; and, according to the promise to such men,
Sthe Lord delivered him in the time of trouble:" It
is, indeed, a rare thing to find one so unlike the
world so much lauded, yet it is recorded concening
Hale, that he was universally much valued and
admired by men of all parties. None could take
offence but at his justice, and anything spoken
against him would have appeared a paradox, or
untrue. "His name," it is added, "is scarce ever
mentioned since his death without particular accents
of singular respect ...... And all that knew him
well do still speak of him as one of the most perfect
patterns of religion and virtue." In a word, his
eulogy is thus pronounced by one who had both the
means and the ability to judge: "Sir Matthew Hale
was one of the greatest patterns this age has afforded,

76 SwGet unito God
whether in his private deportment as a Christian, or
in his public employment, either at the bar, or on
the bench."
And thus briefly do we see again how sowing well
is the sure prelude to reaping well. He who under-
takes to be as the dew unto Israel, watches over the
seed; it springs up, and the fruit is unto holiness.
In some it may bear sixty-fold, and in some an
hundred; but in either case, there can be no lack to
them that fear God as Matthew Hale so long and
wisely feared Him. His case proclaims aloud that
godhness the most strict, and piety the most practical,
form no barrier in the way to success even upon
earth. Nay, even licentious men like Charles II.
are sometimes constrained to offer homage to a man
like Hale. They are awe-struck by the grandeur of
such a character, though they may not learn to copy
it, and sometimes wait to
Catch he rptur o his patig breat"

From this case youth may understand, that if they
would ascend to eminence, if they would take their
place among the benefactors or the ornaments of
humanity, if they would be enrolled among those
whose memory men do not willingly let die, they
should adopt the maxims and walk in the footsteps
of Sir Matthew Hale. In the rich and expressive
language of Scripture, "their barns would then be

fudge Hale and Judge J]efreys. 77

filled with plenty," "they would come again rejoicing,
bringing their sheaves with them."
But, about the same period as Matthew Hale, there
hved another judge in England-the truculent
Jeffreys. His atrocities are now proverbial, for his
wholesale butcheries make the ears of them that
hear of them to tingle. His coarse and oppressive
treatment of those whom he had caught in his wolf
like grasp, is recorded to his perpetual infamy.
The way in which he pandered to the taste of a
degraded royalty betokens the despicable lowness of
the legal assassin; in short, his name is a hissing
and abyword in the mouths of all good men. Now,
how instructive the contrast between Judge Hale
and Judge Jeffreys 1 The one tramples religion in
the dust; the other makes it his pole-star, or the
man of his right hand. The one sacrifices men in
hundreds to his brutal passion; the other trembles
in the sight of God lest he should, even in ignorance,
inflict an injury upon any. The one is hated as a
monster, and rarely mentioned but with an epithet
of execration or ignominy; the other is held up as
one of the purest patterns of all that is good. The
one died regretted and revered by a nation; the
other was detected when lurking in disguise, by one
whom he had insulted, and was cast amid contumely
into prison. Now, whence this difference in the lot
of these two judges Because they sowed so differ-

78 1'uaadase Restord.

ently, and because there ia a God that ludgeth m the
earth. Jeffreys sowed to his own fierce passions,
and he reaped the whirwind at last. Hale sowed
unto God, and it was returned into his own bosom
an hundred-fold increased. Oh, were youth to learn
wisdom from the contrast, they would find how good
and how pleasant it is to follow the Lord fully.
They would discover that paradise is not utterly
lost, or at least that, in the Saviour, its riches and
beauty may be restored. Even here below they
might gather the first-fruits of the tree whose leaves
are for the healing of the nations.


9;4t obit.

E are told in history that Plato the philo-
sopher was crooked and deformed-that
Aristotle had a stammer in his speech-
that Alexander the Great had a wry neck and a
screeching voice-and that their deformities oi
defects were often imitated by the flatterers of these
great men. Their learning or their noble deeds,
men, for the most part, could not imitate, but some
peculiarity in conduct, or some grotesque habit, all
could copy; and theie gathered round the men who
have been mentioned, and many besides, a crowd
of sycophants anxious to appropriate their very
We are now to invite the attention of the young
to the case of a nobleman whose habits were too
widely copied in his day. And even in our day,
some may be disposed to take encouragement from
his sins, rather than learn a lesson from his change
of heart and habit Vet, as men erect beacons upon

So The Fowler s Snar.

rocks, or give warning at the approach of danger,
we would hold up the case of a once infatuated noble-
man as a beacon and a warning to the young. We
were once wandering on the banks of the Tiber, in
the dreary Campagna to the north-west of Rome.
From the summit of a rising ground we noticed a
company of fowlers, plying all their wiles and all
their ingenuity to insnare the birds which flitted
around them. Decoy birds, and invisible nets and
traps, and many other devices, were employed to
catch the prey-but the prey was wary. There
might be some silly birds which fell into the snare,
but the main flock always fled timorously away at
the sight of the snares-they flitted from scene to
scene, and left their pursuers bewildered and
chagrined. Now, the Bible takes up the figure, and
says, Surely in vain is the net spread in the sight
of any bird." It adds, "Our soul is escaped as a
bird out of the snare of the fowler; the snare is
broken, and we are escaped." Will the young, then,
flee from the snare, while we now describe one who
was caught in it, and whose body at least perished
miserably there
JOHN WILMOT, Earl of Rochester, was born in
the year 1648. His father was a stanch friend to
Charles II.; he fought battles for him, and assisted
him at last to escape into France. His family was
in consequence high in favour with that dissolute

The Perils of a Court. Sr

monarch, when he was afterwards restored to his
The young earl was possessed of great ability:
even in early life he was an extraordinary scholar,
and displayed those great powers of mind which
became a snare, because they were grossly perverted,
or even a curse, because they were not directed
according to the holy mind of God. When young
Rochester went to the university, he began to indulge
in those habits which grew with his growth, and at
last became his tormentors as well as the cause of
his death. Listening to the evil which was in his
heart, rather than the counsels of those who loved
him, especially the counsels of his God, he soon
plunged into sin-he sowed iniquity, he reaped
wretchedness, and out of his sad example the young
may learn wisdom, as Samson, according to his
riddle, found honey in the carcass of the lion.
The Earl of Rochester went early abroad to travel,
and though some attempts were then made to reclaim
him from the ways on which he had entered, they
were not attended with very much success. On his
return, in his eighteenth year, he frequented the
court of King Charles, where his brilhant wit, his
graceful person, with his high breeding and attain-
ments, soon made him a favourite. One who knew
him well has said, that had such excellent seeds
fallen upon good ground instead of being perverted
ir 6

82 The Downwari Career.

b) base and degrading passions, psalms and hymns
and spiritual songs might have been the result,
whereas they only helped to lay him lower than tie
beasts that perish. "I am si e," he says, "his gifts
were but miserable comforters, since they only
ministered to lhis sins, and made his example the
more fatal and dangerous," Now, here we may
notice what it was that confirmed the ruin of this
nobleman: it was his appearance at the court of his
king. Dazzled by the brilliance of such a scene,
the young ae ready to suppose that all happiness is
there, that every wish must be gratified, and man
made perfectly blessed under the smile of royalty,
ot in the shadow of a throne. But let them read
the history of Rochester, and be undeceived. The
court to which he went was one of the most wicked
upon earth. Licentiousness reigned there witi fai
more power than royalty. All that was decent was
banished. Sin was reduced to a system. Guilty
pleasures were the only pleasures known, for the
prince and the peer vied in their excesses till virtue
fled in disgust from then neighbourhood.
It was there, the, h, that young Rochester chiefly
dwelt. For a time, indeed, he went to sea, and in
an engagement with the Dutch he showed that his
heroism was equal to his wickedness. Withal,
however, he was gradually ripening in iniquity, and
so mad was this youth on selnfindulgeunc, that he

A Mlarl} f Sin. 83

subsequently confessed to a minister of religion that
"for five years together he was continually drunk.
not all the while under the visible effects of it, but
his blood was so inflamed that he was not in all that
time cool enough to be perfectly master of himself"
Gross sensuality, ao mad adventures, often at the
hazard of his life, were all the result of Rochester's
fine accomplishments, because what God had given
him was perverted and abused. He, above most
men, sowed to the flesh; his whole youth was hke
one long act of shameless iniquity, and we shall soon
see how he reaped, or how he was filled with the
fruit of his own devices.
No doubt, amid all this, as we read in his life, he
had frequent intervals of sad and gloomy reflection
Conscience was not always silent. His bones were
not of iron, nor his sinews of brass. He could not
always wallow in pollution without feeling degraded,
and some sickening hours he spent. At length, how-
ever, he succeeded in fortifying himself against all
such thoughts. Religion was banished from his
mind-nothingremained to control him; and asahorse
lushes into the battle, this youth rushed upon ruin.
The king, indeed, more than once banished him
from court, but his wit was requisite for the amuse-
ment of a monarch who was as licentious and
criminal as that nobleman could be, and they wcce
soon reconciled-they added fresh fuel to each

84 7he Siener's Portrait.

other's passion, or mutually helped to treasure up
The biographer of Rochester tells that he could
not describe many of his proceedings. They were
so revolting or so offensive that he could not even
name them; and it must be enough to say, that so
confirmed was he in sin that lhe sometimes nearly
died a martyr to it. He who is a just God, and an
holy, left him to rea as he had sowed, and he found
it to be very bitter. But though we do not dwell on
particular acts, we may glance at the general princi-
ples of this self ruined youth.
In regard to morality, or duty between man and
man, Rochester confessed that he and his compan-
ions regarded it only as a decent pretence. He cared
not for it, and was under no restraint, or felt no com-
punction for violatmg the most sacred obligations
that can bind man to man. Malice, revenge, and
all that could either injure the good name or pain
the hearts of others, were cultivated as if upon
system ; and in reading the life of this profligate but
accomplished youth, we are forcibly reminded of the
words of Paul-the moral portrait of the heart of
man-" As they did not like to retain God in their
knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind
to do those things which are not convenient; being
filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, wicked-
ness covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder,

The Ltowes Deep. 85

debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers,backbiters,hateis
of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil
things, disobedient to parents, without understanding,
covenant-breakers, without natural affection, im-
placable, unmerciful: who knowing the judgment of
God, that they which commit such things are worthy
of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in
them that do them."
So fully was that dark but truthful picture realized
in this noble youth, that his sins are said to have
been "all high, and extraordinary." He seemed to
delight in something singular and extravagant in his
impieties. He wrought iniquity with greediness,"
and laboured systematically to corrupt others, as he
was himself debased. Indeed, a glimpse at his
character and moral conduct is a perfect commentary
on the Word of God regarding the height and the
depth of the iniquity of man's heart. This was the
heightening and amazing circumstance of his sins,"
writes one who thoroughly knew him, that he was
so diligent and industrious to recommend and pro-
pagate them; not like those of old who hated the
light, but those the prophet mentions 'who declare
their sin as Sodom, and hide it not; who take it upon
their shoulders, and bind it to them as a crown.' He
framed arguments for sin; he made proselytes to it,
and wrote panegyrics upon vice.
So self-degraded did Rochester thus become, and

86 The Unknown God.

so blinded by sin, that he lost the power of discri-
minating between right and wrong. Vice was so
familiar to him, that he could scarcely recognize its
opposite, and he became among men what the vul-
ture is said to be among birds-it banquets upon
carrion, but sickens at a perfume. All checks
upon sin the most gross and licentious "he thought
unreasonable impositions on the freedom of man
kind "
And as these were his viens of duty from man to
man, what were his views of the creature's duty to the
Creator? He deemed it all a pretence. Hethought
that studying a problem in Euclid, or writing poetry,
or any similar exercise of mmd, would do men as
much good as prayer, or communion with God,
or other things which enter into true religion, that
,, the region which God's Holy Spirit teaches.
Rochester confessed, indeed, that they were happy
who felt such impressions as religion produces. But
as he thought of God only "as a vast power," and
not as a heavenly Father, a Counsellor, and Friend,
he never felt the blessedness of resting upon Him.
God was an unknown God to this deluded youth; and
his very religion, if we may apply that title to it, was
a lie. To love God seemed to him a presumptuous
thing," and need we say more to show the very
youngest mind how deep were the delusions into
which this gifted nobleman had sunk 2 Too true it is,

The Atheist Cornvirde 87

But Lord Rochester's last years were spent in yet
more systematic efforts to do what was equivalent to
self-ruin. Versed as he was in the secret mysteries
o sin, he strove to efface eiery vestige of the pure.
Poems which were disgusting-satires where malice
and hatred against all that is lovely and of good report
were life-collections of pictures in his abode which
we cannot venture to characterize-these were among
the means which this profane man employed to cor-
rupt all whom he could influence. Nay, on one
occasion he adopted a still bolder course. Not
satisfied with corrupting his fellowmen, he proceeded
to blaspheme, or to deny his God; but his own words
shall describe the scene: "At an atheistical meeting
at a person of quality's, I undertook," he says, "to
manage the cause, and was the principal disputant
against God and piety, and for my performances re-
ceived the applause of the whole company; upon
which my mind was terribly struck, and I immediately
replied thus to myself: Good God! that a man that
walks upright, that sees the wonderful works of God,
and has the use of his senses and reason, should use
them to the defying of his Creator!'" The blasphemy
involved in such a course was too much even for
Lord Rochester, and an outraged conscience recoiled
appalled at what was done.

88 The Reaping- Tite.

ouch, then, was the early life of this gifted but dis.
solute nobleman. Sin in every form was his delight.
Evil was the only good that he knew. For the sake
of an earthly monarch's smile, or the applause of a
fellow-sinner, he took pains to promote his own
wretchedness and ruin. Plunging into the vortex of
sin, he dragged others along with him. Without re-
straint, and without a check, he drank up iniquity as
the ox drinks up water.
But having seen how Rochester sowed, let us
next consider how he reaped. We have examined
his work-look next at his wages. We have heard
him denying his God-did he perpetrate that and
Nay, his reaping-time began quite early, and never
was theie a better illustration of these words of truth,
" What a man sows, that shall he also reap." The
horror which sometimes seized upon him, even amid
his wicked courses, gave too sure a token of what
was in store; and though he rushed the more on that
account into sin, he was taught to feel that fighting
against God and wretchedness are but different names
for the same thing. Great remorse sometimes preyed
upon him, and when sickness came, and dragged
him from the whirl of indulged passions in which he
lived, he felt the agony of such ways as his. He
tried, indeed, to flee from solemn thought, but it
hauntedl and overpowered him. He was made

The Prodigal Returning 89

" ashamed of his former practices, rather because he
had made himself a beast, and had brought pain and
sickness on his body, and had suffered much in his
reputation, than from any deep sense of a Supreme
Being, or another state." "The folly and madness
of vice" now became too apparent: it was like a fire
in his bones, wasting and consuming him. He was
now convinced that there is a God, for he felt the
grasp of that God upon him. He was beset by
many diseases, the result of many sins-he was racked
by pain-at times he was tortured by remorse, and
confessed, at length, that "he would give all he was
master of," could he enjoy the solace which the re-
ligious possess. He had travelled the whole circle
of what the world calls pleasure. He had drained
the cup which realized the fable of Circe, and turned
him into a beast: "Whatsoever his eyes desired, he
kept not from them, and withheld his heart fiom no
joy." But when he looked back on time mis-spent
-on the body wasted, and the soul entombed in
iniquity, he saw that impiety is as hostile to man
and society, as wild beasts let loose on them would
be; and though his body was racked with extreme
pain for weeks together, Rochester confessed that
the agonies of his mind sometimes swallowed up the
sense of bodily suffering. "All the pleasures he had
ever known in sin," we quote again, were not worth
that torture he had felt in his mind." The horrors,

9go 4 Mfonmment of fercy,

in short, through which he passed were as deep as
his pleasures had been exciting-the religion which
he had formerly despised became an object of anxious
search at last-that is, in the evil day he began
to consider-"O blessed God, can such a horrid
creature as I am be accepted of Thee-who have
denied thy being, and contemned thy power Can
there be mercy and pardon for met Will God own
such a wretch as IT" These were some of this
deluded man's exclamations, when he began to feel
the misery which ever clings to sin. Nay more: the
convicted voluptuary-the man who, according to
the Word of God, "drew sin with a cart-rope," was
heard crying out that he was the vilest wretch and
log that the sun shined upon, or the earth bore:" he
" wished he had been a starving leper, crawling in a
ditch; that he had been a link-boy or a beggar, rather
than to have sinned against God as he had done."
" The language of fiends, which was so familiar to
me, hangs yet about me," was his sad confession. A
premature old age, with crowding diseases, crept over
him, so that one who might have been one of the
glories of his age was one of its greatest reproaches
-so corrupted, so delbse I had he become.
To the praise of the glory of the grace of God, the
Earl of Rochester became a monument of mercy, a
brand plucked from the burning. The fifty-third
chapter of Isaiah was the portion of the Word of

A Deatih-Ri'd warning. 91

God which first found its way to the conscience and
the heart of this misguided profligate, and it came
upon him with a power which he could not resist."
But that brand bore through life the marks of the
fire; and Rochester passed into eternity, humbled
to the dust at the remembrance of what he had been
-of mercies abused-of God forgotten-and a
Redeemer blasphemed.
But perhaps his own words to one who came to
iisit him on hi death-bed will enable the young
most easily to see nto his heart. "O remember
that you contemn God no more!" he passionately
exclaimed. He is an avenging God, and will visit
you for your sins; he will, in mercy, I hope, touch
your conscience sooner or later, as he has done
mine You and I have been friends and sinners to-
gether a great while, and I am the more free with
you. We have been all mistaken in our conceits and
opinions. Our persuasions must be false and ground-
less; therefore God grant you repentance." +
Ourpersuasion must be false and grondless."-
These, as we have just seen, were the words of this
penitent to his former companion in guilt, and will
yng u shoud r- the LF' s nd Death os th Earl o- vRohester,
e In Ih t-1iv --d

92 The Apples of Soedm.

they not, sooner or later, be the words of every
sinner I Here surely is a preacher whose words
cannot be mistaken. His brow is encircled by a
coronet. Wit sparkles in all he says. He is the
centre of a wide circle of admiring followers. His
very king depends upon him for mirth-he cannot be
happy if Rochester be long absent But does all
that make Rochester himself happy Is it enough
to bask in the smile of a king, or stand at the right
hand of a throne Ah, no! As soon as Rochester's
sin finds him out-that is, as soon as he knows his
true condition-racking pain, the agony of remorse,
together with the pangs of bodily disease, take hold
of him, and he finds only labour and sorrow. How
different now from the man of pleasure, who seemed
to be born only to enjoy! A dismantled wreck,
tossed upon the heaving waters-a melancholy moral
ruin-that was the Earl of Rochester, in the thirty-
third year of his age. And never, among the sons
of men, never was there one whose history more
plainly proves the connection between sin and
misery-between sowing to self, in defiance of God's
mercifid warning, and reaping the wretchedness
which must result from man's conflict with the
Almighty. He went down to the grave prematurely
aged, and, as to the body, self-destroyed. His vin-
tage yielded only the grapes of Gomorrah, oa the
apples of Soidom.

A Voice frm the Tomb 93

But we close our lessons for the young from the
life of this greatly deluded man, with his dying re-
monstrance, formally attested, subscribed, and ad-
dressed to his former companions in guilt:-
For the benefit of all those," he solemnly says,
"whom I may have drawn into sin by my example
and encouragement, I leave to the world this my last
declaration, which I deliver in the presence of the
great God, who knows the secrets of all hearts, and
before whom I am now appearing to be judged-
"That from the bottom of my soul I detest and
abhor the whole course of my former wicked life.
"That I think I can never sufficiently admire the
goodness of God, who has given me a true sense of
my pernicious opinions and vile practices, by which
I have hitherto lived without hope and without God
in the world, have been an open enemy to Jesus
Christ, doing the utmost despite to the Holy Spirit
of grace.
"And that the greatest testimony of my love to
such is to warn them, in the name of God, and as
they regard the welfare of their immortal souls, no
more to deny his being, or his providence, or despise
his goodness; no more to make a mock of sin, or
contemn the pure and excellent religion of my ever-
blessed Redeemer; through whose merits alone, I,
one of the greatest sinners, do yet hope for mercy
and forgiveness. Amen."

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