Advice to Youth

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        Hear what strong and emphatic language the celebrated Lord Brougham uses on this point—"I trust everything under God to habit, upon which in all ages the Lawgiver as well as the Schoolmaster has mainly to place his reliance. It is habit which makes every duty easy, and casts the difficulties upon a deviation from the customary course. Make sobriety a habit—and intemperance will be hateful. Make prudence a habit—and prodigality will seem like a crime. Make honesty a habit—and fraud will be abhorred. Give a child the habit of sacredly regarding truth, and he will as soon think of rushing into a hurricane, as of telling a falsehood." These are broad declarations, and yet they are evidently founded on a deep acquaintance with human nature.

        May I not hope then, that you will lay all this seriously to heart. There are instances, blessed be God, in which the idle become industrious; the drunkard abandons his cups; the swearer learns to fear an oath; and the dissolute embrace a life of purity. Nothing is too hard for the Lord. But these cases are so rare as not to be expected in the ordinary course of Providence. What you desire to be, five, ten, twenty, or forty years hence—that strive to be and pray to be at once. Pluck up the sapling before it grows into a tree! Check the disease before it seizes upon the vitals. Meet the enemy on the borders, and allow him not to penetrate the country.

        If you would ever love the Bible, begin to read it carefully and prayerfully now. If you would ever put your trust in Christ, begin to study the beauties of the cross now. If you would ever live a holy life, begin to fear and obey God now. Now you have a tablet of wax on which to inscribe characters of loveliness, and peace and salvation. A few years hence this wax will be granite. Be chaste like Joseph, be humble like Moses, be temperate like Daniel—and the habit will remain until your heads are laid on their last pillow. Trials will come, when we shall see what you are, and what you will do. It is a storm that gives a sight of the depths of the sea; and it is a season of temptation, that gives us a glimpse of one's real character.

        Go out into the world with bad habits, and I tremble for the result. With good habits, and God's blessing, you will be safe everywhere, in city or country, counting-house or mechanic's shop, student's room or clerk's office.

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THE INFLUENCE OF FRIENDSHIP.

Someone remarked to the celebrated John Wesley, as he was entering upon his religious course, "You must either find companions—or make them." This is true of every one. It is not good for man to be alone. Even the bliss of Paradise was not deemed complete, until Adam had a companion to unite with him in his labors, and share with him his joys.

This is a law of our nature, operating upon all, but felt with most force in early life. Young people are formed for communion and companionship. It would make them wretched to immure them in a hermit's cell. But just in proportion to the strength with which their feelings fasten upon those whom they call their friends—will be the power of these friends to be either a blessing or a curse to them.

Scarcely anything else is so pregnant of weal or woe. Solomon has said, "He who walks with wise men shall be wise—but a companion of fools shall be destroyed."

You will have friends—and you will feel their influence. The link is mysterious which binds human beings together, so that the heart of one answers to the heart of another, like the return of an echo; but such a link exists. There seems to be a sort of welding process, by which the feelings and principles of two individuals, before entire strangers, are soon reduced to a complete identity. One catches the spirit, and copies the manner of the other, so that in a short time the same character belongs to both! Wax does not more certainly retain the figure of the seal, than does the mind retain the impression produced by communion and association. The influence is often silent and unperceived, like the rolling in of a wave in a quiet sea; but like that same wave it is mighty and resistless.

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On the one hand, make wise and good men your chosen companions, and you put yourselves in the direct way of becoming wise and good. Intimacies of this sort are invaluable in the formation of character. A network of virtuous associations will thus be woven around you, through which you will find it difficult to break, even should you desire so to do. The operation is secret and imperceptible, but the effects are striking. Could we only persuade the youth among us to mix with the pure, the considerate, and the amiable—they would feel the happy influence. Strongly inclined to evil as is the heart of man—godly friendship never fails to be a check. Let them once become the companions of such as fear the Lord, and they will rarely be found disbelieving his word and profaning his name, or trampling his Sabbath in the dust. The power of a truly consistent godly example, bad as the world is, is immense. Even when it does not reach so far as to be saving, it proves salutary; and when it does not prevent eventual ruin, it has the effect of putting far off the evil day.

But, on the other hand, become the associate of men of bad principles and practices, and you are in danger of walking in the same path. Example, always influential, is peculiarly so, when it sets in the wrong direction. The reason is that in every such case the 'depraved model' finds something in the bosom congenial to itself—and the 'wicked pattern' finds its agreement in the existing state of the heart. On this account it is, that a single improper friendship often works the most fatal results. All that parents, teachers, and pious friends have been doing for years, disappears as the refreshing dew before the rising sun. Associate with the vile, and you will most assuredly become vile. To "walk in the counsel of the ungodly," is the first step towards "standing in the place of sinners," and "sitting in the seat of the scornful."

All this is well understood by those who have children to educate, or sons to send out into the world. There is always a sense of security, when it is certain that the roommate is studious and sober-minded, and the fellow-apprentice and clerk are steady and church-going. Men who have no real religion themselves, are often desirous to place their sons and daughters in circumstances where God is honored, and the Bible is treated as a book from heaven. This is a kind of homage, which truth and goodness exact of thousands whose hearts after all continue wedded to the paths of iniquity.

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Remember, in this connection, that whatever is good or bad, lofty or degrading, virtuous or vicious—in the human bosom—will be most fully developed in society. Lot, no doubt, would have been a better man than he was, had he been surrounded with examples of piety; and Esau would have been a worse man than he was, had he lived in a wicked family. Encouragement is thus given to those who are struggling upward, and obstacles are put in the way of those who are going downward. No one, unsustained by companionship and associates, ever rises to the fullest measure of excellence; and no one, who is not urged on by others, ever sinks to the lowest depths of depravity. The pious are more decidedly pious—and the wicked are more decidedly wicked—as the result of union, concert, and cooperation.

It is a well-ascertained fact, that a company of bad men will generally be more openly and boldly vile than any one of that company would dare to be alone. In this case, the first stimulates and draws on the second, the second the third, until the voice of conscience is drowned, and every feeling of shame is eradicated from the heart. If a person really wishes to rid himself of all virtuous restraint, he has only to go with the multitude to do evil, and the end is gained. In the confusion and bustle of noisy associates, sin has no such sting as it has in private. What opportunity is there here for those serious reflections and painful misgivings, which come thronging upon the mind in the stillness of the bed-chamber and the solitary walk. Instead of asking what God and conscience approve, the only question now is—What will gratify the company? If this point can be secured, there seems to be no thought of the remorse thus stored up for a sick chamber, or a dying bed.

In a large majority of cases, pre-eminence in evil results from the abuse of that social principle, which God has implanted in our bosoms as a help to the development of piety. Where is it, let me ask, that the profane jest is uttered against the Scriptures, the Lord's-day, and the ministry of the Sanctuary? Under what circumstances is it, that the song of the drunkard is heard, and the silence of midnight is disturbed by the mutterings and curses of the gambler? How does it come to pass that here one, and there another, is enticed to the house of infamy and the vortex of damnation? These are not vices which spring up in retirement and are connected with thinking on one's ways. They have their origin in noise and bustle and excitement—and not in stillness or solitude.

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This is the point at which the road starts which leads to profaneness, intemperance, and debauchery. Festive seasons and days of mirth, afford a fruitful soil for the growth of sin. The mind is thus unbent; pleasurable sensations are excited, and one gives countenance to another, until the most disgusting impiety and inebriation ensue.

There is more of weight and importance in these truths than is always supposed. A solitary Deist or Universalist living in a neighborhood of consistent Christians, is not likely to hold his errors very firmly, or broach them with a very confident air. Infidelity is a plant which does not thrive well by itself. It grows up more rankly and bears its more noxious fruit amid the noise and smoke and fumes of the bar-room, and puts on its deepest hues while the drunken cup is passing around. Who ever heard of a man's railing against the Bible, or the final doom of the wicked, in his solitary chamber? Perhaps such a thing is sometimes done, but impiety like this loves publicity and show. Clairvoyants would not "mutter and peep" if there were none to hear.

It is well, too, to remark that young men of amiable dispositions are often most in danger from bad company. Owing to that great catastrophe which so utterly deranged man's whole moral nature, some of those very traits of character which are denominated virtues—seem really to open the door to vice. This is but too true of thousands who are blessed with a soft, mild and yielding disposition. Like some plants which change the color of their blossoms as often as you change the soil in which they stand, these people take their tone of feeling from surrounding circumstances. While at home, where the Bible was read, prayer offered, the sanctuary visited and God worshiped—everything apparently went well with them. But after receiving the farewell blessing of a kind father, and the parting embrace of a fond mother—new scenes soon opened and new impressions were made.

We are pleased to see a soft and kindly temper in early life; but it is not to be concealed that such a temper exposes one to peculiar peril. A person of such a disposition, usually lacks firmness and independence of character. Hence we frequently see him falling in with the opinions and practices of his companions, even in opposition to his own convictions of right and wrong. He has not internal strength to resist evil, provided it puts on an inviting aspect. Often is he drawn into fellowship with the wicked in scenes of dissipation and vice, simply because he has not the courage to resist. Sooner than turn his back upon some unprincipled associate, he will sacrifice conscience, peace of mind, and the favor of God.

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Sad is it for such a one, when he falls into the snares of those who, under a gentle and deceitful appearance, hide a heart of deadly opposition to the ways of piety. The fly in the web of the spider, or the fish on the hook of the angler, is a fit emblem of a victim like this.

Sir Matthew Hale, one of the most learned and upright judges who ever sat on the bench in England or any other country, came near being ruined in this very way. When quite young he was amiable and studious, and great hopes were entertained of his future eminence. But some strolling theatrical players came to the town where he lived, and he was induced by his own yielding disposition, to become a witness of their performances. This so completely captivated his heart, that he lost all relish for study, and gave himself up to dissipated company. Happily, however, for his prospective usefulness and peace of mind, as he was one day surrounded by vile associates, it pleased God to put a stop to their folly, by smiting one of their number with a sudden disease, which soon sent him to the grave. This broke the bonds which tied the heart of young Hale to a life of dissipation, and drove him to his closet, his Bible, and his God.

Instances of the like wandering are common—alas that instances of like return are so few. Let one of an easy complying disposition, and with little fixedness of principle, come into contact with educated and refined iniquity—and the work of ruin is speedily done. The politeness of the exterior renders him unsuspicious of the sink of corruption within. At first he only listens, then he begins to imitate, and soon he goes as an "ox to the slaughter and as a fool to the correction of the stocks!"

All this is confirmed by the fact, that young men are sure to be estimated by the character of their companions. Not only do a man's familiar friends exert an influence over him, but what is more, they constitute the sure and ready test by which others judge of his worth. There is an old proverb, and all experience verifies it—"every man is known by the company he keeps." On this account it is that shrewd and intelligent observers of human nature seldom put themselves to the trouble of looking any further in order to decide upon a person's reputation. Tell them where the clerk or apprentice spends his evenings, and with whom he takes his walks, and it is enough. Nothing would seem stranger to them than to look for a sober, considerate, trustworthy young man—in the midst of the idle, the profane, and the licentious. Never do they expect to find one that is temperate, industrious and correct—among a noisy, dissipated and drunken crew. So certain is it, that every individual will be what his companions are—in character, habits, and way of life—that in nine cases out of ten, no further testimony is required.

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REPUTATION is a delicate plant, which will not bear the touch of violence, or the breath of pollution. Though it advance by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, it often, like the Prophet's gourd, withers in a night. It is possible for you to lose in an hour—what it costs years of care and prudence to gain. A little lack of consideration—a little forgetfulness of what is due to yourselves—a little yielding to the blandishments of vice—may inflict an injury never to be repaired! But take another course. Seek the society of the good—cast in your lot among the virtuous and faithful—and your standing will become reputable at once. Everybody will see that you respect yourselves, and this will secure the respect of others.

I charge you, ponder well these remarks. If you are seen to associate freely with such as are known to have no respect for the Scriptures, and no reverence for the Sabbath, especially if it should once come to be understood that you can cast in your lot with those who have gone so far in the ways of transgression as to glory in their shame, you must not deem it a hardship to be treated as if you maintained the very same character. This is perfectly natural, and not at all to be complained of. You might as well visit a district infected with the plague, and expect to be welcomed at once to the bosom of families where health prevails; as to associate with the workers of iniquity, and hope to pass along without having a mark fixed upon you, by men of every name and place.

What a penalty to pay for going astray in this one particular; and yet it must be paid, if the false step be taken. Such are the legitimate fruits of friendships formed without regard to the high interests of morality and virtue; and they open the way to a miserable life—as well as an undone eternity. A young man of good character may hope to gather around his dwelling the blessings of peace, and the comforts of plenty. But with no safe and reliable passport like this, he enters upon life only to end it in grief to himself and disappointment to his friends. Ah! who would be willing to purchase the friendship of the wicked at so dear a rate? Who can consent to pay such a price for the privilege of filling his own cup with wormwood and gall?

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        As united fires send up the tallest and fiercest flames, so in the case before us, the wickedness of the entire group seems to concentrate upon each individual. Shun then, as you would pestilence and death—all such as have contracted wicked habits. No matter what gay clothing they wear, how flippant their conversation, or how respectable their friends—they are not the companions for you. It is impossible to join affinity with them, without exposing yourself to be dragged into the same gulf, in which they are fast sinking.

        If you will take the advice of one older than yourselves—do not be ambitious of having a multitude of bosom friends. Far be it from me to utter a syllable, which might by any possibility be construed into an encouragement of those misanthropic feelings, which sometimes struggle for ascendency, even in the youthful bosom. But still let me tell you, that to open your arms to everyone's embrace, and to form friendships with every newcomer, is to sow the seeds of sorrow for yourselves. My advice is—be polite, be kind, be courteous to all. But for your own sakes, be close friends with very few. Make companions of parents, brothers and sisters, and you need never feel lonely.

        Let me say further—in choosing friends, learn to set a much higher value on virtue and religion—than on any outward distinctions. Surely, you need not wonder at the multiplied sorrows which too often embitter life, if you but call to mind on what principle it is, that some of its most sacred ties are formed. The inquiry is not—Has the individual a truly good character; but, has he wealth, is he prosperous in business, and do his connections stand high in the world? Family, fortune, and personal attractions are not infrequently regarded as a tolerably fair offset for serious suspicions against purity of morals. Oh, is it any matter of surprise that this world of ours is to so great an extent a sad and disappointed world. What real happiness can a young person, male or female, expect from a voluntary alliance with that which is low in feeling, debased in taste, and depraved in habits? The hope of after-reformation in such cases, is so fallacious, that you should never dream for a moment of relying upon it. Let the change for the better come first, and let the union, if it ought to take place, follow.

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ERROR—its Causes and Consequences.

"I envy no man his learning, his wit, his eloquence, or his imagination, but of all possible possessions, there is none I prize so highly as a firm and well-established religious belief." Who, think you, made this remark? It was not a disappointed and desponding man turning in disgust from a world which had refused him its pleasures, nor was it a minister of the gospel, called by his very office to speak of the Bible and eternity. No! these are the sober and well-considered words of one courted by the great and the gay—a man of high distinction in the scientific world, for years in succession President of the Royal Society of Great Britain, and the inventor of the Safety Lamp, of such inestimable benefit to miners. The language is that of Sir Humphrey Davy—a name of renown. No man in the early part of the present century stood higher as a practical philosopher; and his lectures were attended by brilliant audiences, attracted as well by the results of his experiments, as the eloquence of his manner and the clearness of his expositions. Such a man has a right to speak. From him it is we learn, that a well-established religious faith is to be prized above all other attainments and possessions.

Weighty sentiment this—and happy will it be for us if it exerts its proper influence! The times are full of peril. We see the minds of people wandering through every grade and form of skepticism, from the more dignified and manly infidelity of the last century, down to the lying wonders of Spiritism. Such is its chameleon face that we can scarcely sketch its likeness, before it assumes some new form. The only stability about it is, its contrariety to the simple truths of the Bible—its rejection of the claims of God and divine truth.

But why is it so? The CAUSES of every sort of infidelity are three—Ignorance, Pride of understanding, and a Bad Life.

cont

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That ignorance is a fruitful source of infidelity, especially in our day, there can be no reasonable doubt. The time seems to have gone by when men of talents and learning, like Hobbes, and Collins, and Bolingbroke, and Shaftesbury, are willing to be ranked among open and avowed unbelievers. One full experiment of what wit and erudition could do to put the Bible down was permitted, but it is not repeated and probably never will be. The thing has been tried and failed, ignominiously and forever. It is seldom now that we find real learning and lofty intellect enlisted in the work of overthrowing the Bible and the ministry of the gospel. The business seems entrusted to feeble and unfledged hands.

Lord Bacon understood the matter well, and he has given us his opinion in language which every school-boy should remember. "A little learning," I quote the words of the distinguished sage and the profound philosopher, "a little learning may incline a man to infidelity—but a good deal is sure to bring him back to the Bible." This remark is well founded, and seldom needs the least qualification. If infidelity is making proselytes, and probably it is in some quarters, I venture to affirm it is not among the well-educated, the deeply-read, the truly intelligent. It is instructive to mark who they are, here and there, that take sides against the Bible. What class of people is it, that rise up and say Christianity is a failure; responsibility to God is a figment of the brain; and suffering in the world to come is a bugbear? Men of respectability and station in society no longer hazard such destructive assertions. The infidels of our cities and larger towns, except foreigners and newcomers, are the young and inexperienced people of little learning and less good sense. These are they, who gather up and retail errors that have been exploded a thousand times before.

I am well aware that in making this statement, I shall be considered as treading on tender ground. Be it so. It is enough for me to know where I stand, when I affirm fearlessly, and beg you to bring the affirmation to the touch-stone of the most rigid scrutiny, that the infidelity of our day is mainly the infidelity of ignorant pretense. What if these people can start inquiries which their humble and pious neighbors are unable to solve? A child of five years may ask questions about himself and his destiny, about this world and the next, about the soul and God, which the best educated men on earth are unable to answer.

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Let nothing of this kind move you from your steadfastness. Faith in the Bible, just as it reads, with all its duties and precepts, is but believing in God, as a child believes in a fond father, or a wife believes in a faithful husband, or a patient believes in a skillful physician, or a soldier believes in a brave commander; and is no less reasonable.

Pride of understanding, too, comes in to help on this work of infidelity. Humility is a hard lesson for sinful men to learn. There is something in the human heart that rises in opposition to inspired truth, on a variety of subjects connected with God and sin, and law and pardon, and justification and final punishment. These are subjects in relation to which young men, more than any other class, are prone to cavil and object. You would be surprised to hear any such doubts suggested or denials made by those of the other sex. A young lady would lose her respectability at once, if it were known that she could talk lightly about the Scriptures, salvation, or the world to come.

Allow me to illustrate my idea by a reference to the life of the late excellent Dr. Dwight. When he entered upon the presidency of Yale College, no small portion of the students, we are told, were bold and declared infidels. Indeed, so proud were they of this distinction, that they assumed the names of the principal Deists of England and France. Full of confidence in themselves, they resolved to bring the matter to an early issue, and overwhelm the new president at the very outset of his course. Accordingly the first question which they proposed for public debate was, "Are the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments the word of God?" They were told to select which side of this inquiry they chose, and bring forward all the facts and arguments which were supposed to bear on the subject. Most, if not all, who were expected to take part in the debate, appeared as the open champions of infidelity. But what was the result? When they had ended, and were congratulating themselves on having gained a victory, the president took up their arguments one by one, and succeeded in showing them that they did not at all understand the subject. From that day skepticism began to go down in the college, until it became universally unpopular.

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A story very similar to this is told of the learned and venerable Chief Justice Marshall. Much in the same way did he silence a company of forward and boastful young men at a public inn, who had just been making out to their own satisfaction, that the Bible is not the book of God. That venerable man, in a strain of simple and convincing eloquence, such as he well knew how to employ, went over the whole ground of the Divine authority of the Scriptures, as they all sat together by the fireside, and so clearly did he make out the case, that not one of them had another word to utter. But what is it except pride and self-confidence that makes such people infidels? Instead of being really distinguished for free and liberal thought, these are the men of all others, whose minds are hampered, and whose horizon is narrow. Notice it when and where you will, real superiority is always connected with modesty and self-distrust. The great Sir Isaac Newton was a pattern of modesty.

But, above all, skepticism has its origin in a sinful life. Nothing has such an influence in leading men to break loose from the Bible and the Savior—as the love of sin. Thousands are against religion for no other reason than because it condemns their wicked practices. You never heard of an individual that was humble and holy and prayerful—who rejected the Scriptures, denied an hereafter, and called in question the being of a God. This is the fruit which grows only on the brambles and thorns of vicious indulgences. A person must have a reason for wishing there were no final account and no eternal retribution, before he can believe that there is none.

The principles and practices of men will exert a powerful influence over each other. Those who do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God, are never forced to raise an outcry against the doctrine of human depravity, or the judgment of the great day. If this be done at all, it is almost sure to be done by such as cast off fear and restrain prayer before God. The heart is led to adopt some false scheme of religious opinion and practice from a consciousness—a painful consciousness—that the life will not abide the test of the true one. Look around you and see if these things are not so. When you find people rejecting the gospel, decrying the most sacred institutions, and seeking to cut away the cords which bind our country to the throne of God, you may conclude of a certainty, that there is something wrong in themselves. Good men never sow such seeds of bitterness. This is the work of an enemy—an enemy as really to human welfare, as to the government of Jehovah.

cont

[airIam2worship]

The matter is every now and then brought to the decision of actual experiment. Let some skeptical lecturer come along, and what class of the community will be drawn around him? As a general thing, be assured, you will not see the steady, the sober-minded, the church-going part of the people there. If there be open sinners and drunkards in the vicinity, they will be likely to be attracted to the spot; and if there be men of loose habits and unkind to their wives, they will be sure to make a portion of the audience. You may know the man and his message, from the character of his followers.

If anything be established beyond contradiction, it is that a sinful life is a fruitful source of wrong beliefs. A clergyman of my acquaintance tells of a boy, not over ten years of age, who stood up and looking wise among his associates declared that he did not believe the Bible. I myself have seen a man, but a few degrees removed from idiocy, avowing his belief in universal salvation. What principle was at work here? Why, the very same that led the infamous Rousseau to become an infidel after he had resolved to lead the life of a profligate. We have it from his own lips that the rejection of the Bible made him feel comfortable in his wicked courses. After conscience was thus lulled to sleep, it was easy to "work all uncleanness with greediness."

Ponder this, beloved youth, and you will be prepared to look at some of the CONSEQUENCES of embracing error.

These are numerous, and they have been in part anticipated, but we may go somewhat more into detail. "As truth," to adopt the beautiful language of Jeremy Taylor, "has its origin and dwelling-place in the bosom of God," no one can renounce the truth and embrace error without harming himself. The following effects are sure to be produced by such a course—it bewilders the mind—it affords no support in the day of trial—and it stands in the way of salvation.

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[airIam2worship]

There is something in error which has a direct tendency to bewilder and enthrall the mind. We often speak of infidels as "free-thinkers," but if by free-thinking is meant, real, conscious liberty, the term is egregiously misapplied. If there be anything like mental bondage—a bondage servile and degrading, a bondage worse than that imposed by the tyrants of Egypt, it is theirs. What do such men know, and what indeed can they know of thought so emancipated from everything dark and earthly, as to be able to lift itself up to God and commune with eternity? The man who renounces the Bible and its Savior, has descended into a cavern where no light can reach him with its healing beams. All the movements he now makes are the mere groping experiments of one that has not a ray of the Sun of Righteousness to guide his footsteps, or cheer his heart.

All error is downward, and the farther a person advances, the darker does his path become. To go forward seems easy and natural, but if he ever begins to think—and desires to return, he finds that he is involved in a labyrinth, from which there appears to be no escape. This accounts for the fact, that men so seldom renounce opinions which they have once embraced and avowed before the world. We have had in our own country an example of a clergyman running the whole round of loose opinions, relinquishing this truth of the Bible and that, until at length he landed in universal skepticism. Such facts should be held up as beacons to warn the inexperienced and unwary. Once come to harbor the idea, that this and the other great doctrines of the Scripture is not to be believed—and the delusion will be very likely to go down to the grave with you. The false notion will fix itself like a gloomy veil on the mind, and prevent your seeing the force of any opposite evidence. What you embrace from ignorance and pride, or a love of sin—will rivet fetters upon your soul never likely to be broken, until death arrests you.

It has been my lot to witness an example of this sort of mental thraldom. The individual referred to, had been in the habit, while a mere youth, of reading infidel books, and what was still worse, had often come under the influence of infidels themselves. In this way the poison had taken effect, and it seemed impossible to expel it from the system. Though he could see the evils of skepticism, and appeared really desirous to exercise faith in Divine salvation, the shackles were too strong for him to break asunder. Little does any one know, who has not made the trial, how tenacious are the cords spun and twisted by infidelity. Nothing short of the all-conquering grace of God can bring such a man to the knowledge and acknowledgment of the truth.

cont

[airIam2worship]

Again, infidelity affords no sure support in the day of trial. Skeptics, as a class, are generally unhappy men—uneasy in themselves, and dissatisfied with everything around them. They act like people treading on yielding and uncertain ground, unable to bear their weight. What indeed can there be to cheer the heart and brighten the prospects of one who has no Bible to rely upon, no God to go to, and no Savior to trust in? If he can manage to be gay and volatile in the season of prosperity, it is far otherwise when health fails, and property disappears, and friends die. Then it is that we see the sadness of such as have no hope, and are without God in the world.

Well may the Christian say, "their rock is not as our rock, our enemies themselves being judges."

You have never heard of an humble and devout believer who, in the day of sickness or on the bed of death, regretted that he had confided too implicitly in the Scriptures. We may challenge the world to produce a solitary case. But who has not heard of multitudes of skeptics, that were filled with anguish as eternity approached, and were ready to curse the hour when they began to forsake the right path? Such instances are familiar in almost every part of the land. Of all the enemies of revealed religion, in days gone by, Hume stands without a rival among those who reason, and Voltaire among those who scoff. But who were these men, what kind of life did they lead, and how did they die? Let these inquiries be answered fairly and truthfully, and there will be found to be nothing encouraging in their example. One of them left the world joking about the boat which was to carry him over the dark river, and the other raving with madness at the companions of his crimes. It is not necessary to dwell on the spectacle of the poor, drunken, bloated Paine. There are people in our country lost enough to self-respect to keep the anniversary of this man's birth—but his death was awfully appalling.

If there be a sight on earth truly distressing, it is that of an aged and feeble skeptic, neglected by men and forsaken of God. While his spirits were joyous and his anticipations bright, he could trifle with the Bible and the Savior. But it is a very different thing now that the frosts of many years are gathered on his head. With health gone, and a mind debilitated, and days and nights devoid of comfort, where is he to look for consolation, and to what refuge is he to betake himself? The heavens are all dark above him, and the earth is all desolation around him. One foot is already in the grave, and he feels himself drawn irresistibly forward toward a judgment for which he is not prepared, and a world where he can hope for no enjoyment. What a picture of despair! In vain does he cry aloud, "Come back! my early days, come back!" Ah, young men, there is no power in error to chase away the sadness of life's dark hours. In the midst of wine and song and merriment, it may do to laugh at the Bible and deny that there is a hell. But this is a poor resort for days of pain and nights of wakefulness. When heart and flesh fail, God alone can be the strength of the heart, and the portion forever.

cont