Chapter Eleven

PRECEPT and promise are linked together. Faith in the promise gives life to the precept. There may and will be much trial in the work of God. But there can be no disappointment. “All the promises of God”—those of the Old, no less than of the New Testament—“are in Christ Jesus yea, and in him are Amen.” (2 Cor. 1:20.) Divine faithfulness is therefore their security. The labour wrought out—the seed sown—will assuredly bring its own harvest.

The figure here is that of bread, or rather bread-corn cast upon the face of the waters; apparently wasted and perished, yet found after many days. It might be asked ‘Of what use can it be to cast it away? And how vain the hope of finding it again! It might seem to be the business of a senseless fool—a waste and unwarranted destruction of the “precious seed. The inundation of the Nile illustrates the figure.

The time for sowing the seed, is just when the waters are going down, leaving a loamy bed, in which the seed apparently lost is deposited, and produces a most luxuriant harvest. An encouraging—constraining motive for Christian bountifulness! Did we spend our whole earthly substance in this course, it would be put out to the best security—“lent unto the Lord.” (Prov. 19:17.) “Good measure, pressed down and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom.

God is not unrighteous to forget your work, and labour of love, which ye have shewn towards his Name, in that ye have ministered to the saints, and do minister.” (Luke 6:38; Heb. 6:10.) ‘Sow the seed-corn without any hope of harvest. Do good to them, on whom you even think your benefaction is thrown away. Nothing is lost that is done for God.

If it for the time seem to be lost, thou shalt find it after many days—it may be—not till the days of eternity—“thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.” (Luke 14:24.) But how few believe this, or act as if they believed. Often we hear of many impoverished by extravagance—few indeed by liberality. Unless the tide of Christian beneficence rises higher than we are used to see it, a scanty or withered harvest seems to be our only prospect.

But surely the subject admits of a more extensive application. See how it furnishes to the Minister of God a valuable rule and encouragement. “The sower goes forth to sow” “the precious bread-corn—the bread of life.” (Matt. 13:3; Mark 4:14.) Much of his toil seems to be in vain. Much disappointment arises from the world—often more from the Church. The soil is uncongenial—the prospect of harvest precarious.

But “blessed are ye that sow beside all waters.” (Isa. 32:20.) The promise is sure—Thou shalt find it after many days. He looks around. He “sees not his signs. It is as if his “prayers would return into his own bosom.” (Ps. 74:9; 35:13.) But the promise is sure—“My word shall not return unto me void.” (Isa. 55:10.) It may be that some wanderer may have been brought back to the fold by the recollection of his teaching, even after his voice was silent in the grave.

It may be that the seed has been re-sown again and again from one heart to another, and that some whom he had never known in the flesh may welcome him “at the presence of the Lord at his coming as his glory and joy.” (1 Thess. 2:19, 20.) “He that reapeth receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal; that both he that soweth, and he that reapeth, may rejoice together. Thus also in respect to the after influence of instruction.

The present sight seems as if the seed cast upon the waters had perished. How scanty the present practical influence from the instruction of the young! But the promise is above all uncertainty. Thou shalt find it—not the corn, but the harvest. The scoffing world understand it not. “To what purpose”—they cry—“is this waste”—of money—time—pains? But wait a while. God’s time is best—many days.

The season of confirmation—some moment of temptation—the hour of affliction—one or other of these seasons stirs smothered conviction to life and reality. Go on then. Use the means. Generations unborn may reap the fruit. (Gal. 6:9.) Once more—mark the trials of the Christian life. Outward circumstances are discouraging, as if the seed cast upon the waters had perished upon the wide waste—hindrances from the world without, and Satan within.

But sow thy seed—whatever be the discouragements.—Though prayer seems as if it died on your lips, continue in it. Though thou haltest in the weary conflict—hold on. Thou shalt find it. “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shalt doubtless”—mark the word—“come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” (Ps. 126:5, 6.) The many days between seed-time and harvest are days of special anxiety—hoping seeming impossibilities—believing paradoxes. But the promise is God’s own living truth; and it will be found not the less sure for the delay.

And when waiting days have done their work, humbling us in entire dependence upon God, and ripening us for the harvest of blessing in due season—in God’s good time (the constantly recurring expression from Mr. Scott’s death-bed.) “We shall reap, if we faint not. The vision is yet for an appointed time; but at the end it shall speak, and not lie; though it tarry, wait for it, because it will surely come; it will not tarry.” (Gal. 6:9; Hab. 2:3.)

Here Solomon adds another motive to beneficence. Every day is an opportunity. How long it may last, who can tell? “As we have opportunity, let us do good” (Gal. 6:10)—large-hearted, and open-handed, ‘giving—not a pittance, but a portion’—not giving it to one or two—or even to seven—as if we might stop there—but also to eight—the torrent flowing on, “as God hath prospered us.” (1 Cor. 16:2.) The allusion may be to the Jewish custom of distributing portions on festive occasions.

If the custom be passed away, let the spirit remain. Our motives are more constraining. Let our hearts be more enlarged. The grand example pours fourth a constraining influence. Forwardness, sincerity, self-denying devotedness—all flow from the experimental “knowledge of the Saviour’s grace. That display is at once our pattern, our standard, and our principle.

Cheerful liberality is the burden of the rule: digging open the several springs of usefulness which, having once begun to flow, will spread into streams. ‘Spring up, O well’—will every true Israelite sing. The higher we rise to our standard, the brighter our atmosphere, the more fruitful our course of practical habits. The likeness of our Divine Master will be the unmistakable stamp of our profession. But a strange reason is given for this energy of love.

Thou knowest not what evil shall be upon the earth. ‘Therefore’—says the selfist—‘I may want my money for myself. Times may alter. An evil day may be at hand. I must be prudent, and restrain. It is best to save while I can. “Why should I take of my bread and my flesh, and give to I know not who?” ’ (1 Sam. 25:11.) ‘Therefore’—says the noble-minded, trusting servant of God—‘I will improve my stewardship while I have it.

Like my Great Master, “I will work the works of him that sent me while it is day.” ’ (John 9:4.) Thus the covetous worldling uses as the only excuse for hoarding, the very circumstance, which Solomon produces as a motive to liberality. The one applies it as an hindrance to godliness—the other as an incentive to it. There is no danger of becoming poor by our charity. The God of Heaven is the Surety for the poor.

Mr. Scott gives his valuable testimony—the result of well-tried experience. ‘There is no risk in expending money in an urgent case, and from good motives. A penurious prudence, springing from weak faith, is impolicy as well as sin. ‘It is wise’—as Bp. Reynolds reminds us—‘to do God’s work in God’s time. And his time is the present time—perhaps the only time that may be given. Large-heartedness is after all true Christian prudence.

“There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet; but it tendeth to poverty. He hath dispersed—he hath given to the poor—his portion to seven, and also to eight. What is the issue? Is he the poorer for his bounty?

“His righteousness endureth for ever: his house shall be exalted with honour.” (Prov. 13:24; Ps. 112:9.) Oh! for the unselfish spirit, that finds the truest happiness in ministering to the wants and sorrows of our fellow-sinners; and whose experience puts a fresh seal to the Divine Tradition—“It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35.) ‘And if a portion of your worldly substance be required for the purpose of imparting the bread of life to the famishing millions, will you withhold it?

“Honour the Lord with your substance.” (Prov. 3:9.) Let the pleading voice of the whole heathen world be heard. Let the claims of “the seed of Abraham, God’s friend” (Isa. 41:8), awake the grateful sensibilities of your heart, and open your hands to liberality. Seek not after apologies for refusal. Cover not a grudging disposition by plausible objections. Let not conscience be bribed and cajoled by avarice.

Put not to the credit of prudence and principle what belongs to the account of hard-hearted selfishness, and the “love of this present world. Give a portion to seven and also to eight.

Solomon abounds in happy illustrations. Here he pictures the sun exhaling its watery vapours from the earth, not to retain, but to discharge them, that they may break as clouds ‘big with blessings’ upon the earth again. And is not the man of God the cloud full of rain—blessed, as a child of Abraham, that he may be made “a blessing?” (Gen. 12:2.) The blessing will not be lost. There is good security for the return of well-principled benevolence.

Where it has been dispensed, there let it be looked for: there it will be found, here or hereafter—just as the tree—in the place where it falleth—whether towards the south or towards the north—there it shall be. Let me ask then—what blessing am I bringing to my fellow-creatures—in the family—in the church—in the world? Does my profession attract and recommend my principles? Are those around me enriched by my gifts and graces? Are they benefited by my prayers and good service?

The power to do good flows from the willingness to do it. The very breathing of the heart is the principle of love. Let me not wait for the call of importunity; but hasten at once into the sphere of practical work.

Splendid services are not always required; but acts of kindness to the weakest and the meanest of his people, worked out in the true spirit of love to himself. (Matt. 25:40.) May not the accommodation of Solomon’s figure place it vividly before our eyes—how short our time of work may be—how soon—“now” even the “axe may be laid to the root of the tree” (Mt. 3:10) and our state unchangeably fixed for eternity? Where the tree falleth, there shall it be.

Death changes, purifies nothing. Inexpressibly solemn will be the sentence pronounced—“He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still.” (Rev. 22:11.)

Solomon still seems to have in his eye the dispensing of charity. And he is led to remark how trifling hindrances damp its glow, and restrain its exercise. The man who is constantly observing the wind, and thinking how every gust will blow away his seed, will never sow. Nor will he who in feebleness of purpose regards the clouds, ever reap.

Just so—little objections of doubt as to the fitness of objects, under the feigned name of prudence, occupy the mind, and the season of opportunity passes away. So much for the literal figure. Lord Bacon gives a more general application, and remarks upon it, that there is no greater impediment of action, than an over-curious observance of time and season. He adds,‘A man must make his opportunity, as oft as find it.

But this expressive figure describes a large class of Christian professors of the same “doubtful mind” (Luke 12:29) forming pretences against the present season of doing good, and putting off duty to a more fitting time. This is the man, who would not sow in wind or rain, lest his seed should be blown away, and his harvest lost. Whereas by yielding to present discouragements, he never does his business to good purpose, and really loses his harvest.

“The sluggard will not plow by reason of the cold; therefore shall he beg in harvest, and have nothing.” (Prov. 20:4.) Mark the present call to duty—the opportunity of good now put into our hands; not letting future contingencies in the hand of God frame an excuse for delay of service. In our wider sphere of Christian responsibilities take the same warning. A measure of discouragement will always be connected with present duties.

A plausible excuse for delay will never be wanting. To-morrow will be more favourable—the storm will be over, and our business will be done with less hazard. So says the trifler in his own delusion. But in fact the weather is not in fault. There is a want of spring in the heart—a want of decided purpose for God.

He flatters himself that there will be a better and less hazardous time than now—the threatening storm will have blown over—and he will be more free for the whole-hearted service. But the real mountain is within—“the evil heart of unbelief—the hardening deceitfulness of sin.” (Heb. 3:12, 13.) The faithless, sluggish heart is under the power of the great enemy, beclouding his path, palsying his strength, raising mountains of difficulties in the way.

Activity of mind, promptness of habit, determination of purpose—let all be brought into exercise under the overcoming power of a living faith. It is a great work of self-possession to rise above present discouragement—not to magnify every trifling difficulty, or to start objections against present duty.

This is only “the slothful man” planting “his hedge of thorns”or crying out in cowardly fear—“There is a lion in the way—a lion in the streets.” (Prov. 15:19; 22:13.) This well-regulated habit will bring a deep and vital influence for good over our whole character. The trifling discouragements of the winds and the clouds are the appointed trials of faith. And when does our God honour faith, till he has first tried it?

Or when does he fail to honour it, either in the trial or out of it? How little should we have known of the power of faith, the privilege of prayer, the preciousness of the promises, the faithfulness and sympathy of the Saviour, if difficulties had not shewn to us our weakness, and made the Gospel a Divine reality to our souls! The victory over the lesser difficulties strengthens us in conflict with the greater. The triumph will be complete, and the crown glorious.

Still an halting spirit quenches the glow of Christian energy. Feeble effort ensures defeat. One prompt, practical exercise is worth an hour’s deliberation. Do not despise the smallest success. Five minutes’ prayer for this object may be worth a world. Our present happiness—so far as we realize it—consists in an intelligent and affectionate preference of God—solemnly—deliberately choosing him, in opposition to everything that is constantly drawing us from him.

There is no indecision here. Trifling discouragements have now no weight. They are cast upon God—not that they may be removed, but that enduring perseverance may be vouchsafed under them. Wind and clouds no more hinder work.

‘When God calls—when grace moves—when the heart feels—when Christ is nigh—there may be then risk and difficulties, both wind and clouds; yet that is the time for sowing, and that the time of reaping; that is “the accepted time, and that the day of salvation.” ’

Another humbling and valuable recollection of human ignorance! Man prides himself upon what he knows, or fancies he knows—the extent of his knowledge. Much more reason has he to be humbled for the far wider extent of his ignorance. He does not see the harvest from the distribution of his charity. But his ignorance does not disprove the fact. How little does he know of the things before his eyes! How ignorant are we of our own being!

So “fearfully and wonderfully made!” so “curiously wrought!” (Ps. 139:12–14.) The attempt to comprehend one’s self conquers our understanding. Anatomical experiments may bring out some facts. Questions may be asked.

But they can only be answered by the confession of our ignorance—the way of the spirit, or the human soul—how it is formed—whence it comes—whether by the immediate creation of God—how it is conveyed into and animates the body—the formation of the body itself—how the bones (without which we should only creep as worms) are jointed and grow in the womb—the union of the soul with the body—of the immaterial spirit with the gross corporeal substance—in all this the soul is a mystery to itself.

We know not the way. If, then, we cannot know him in his ordinary works of nature—in his works near at home—much less can we know the works of God, who maketh all. Truly he “doeth great things and unsearchable; marvellous things without numbers.” (Job 5:9.) ‘Our wisdom is but as a drop in the bucket—yea, but a drop in the ocean. Can our drop compare with his ocean? A bucket shall soon take in the ocean, as man the wisdom of God.

And ought not this sense of ignorance to furnish a convincing reply to many things that are called objections to Revelation? When tempted to pry—‘On such subjects’—said a serious thinker—‘I have no confidence in reason. I trust only in faith; and as far as we ought to inquire, I have no guide but Revelation.

We should indeed be prepared in this Terra incognita to expect difficulties; nor should we forget our own nature, by insisting upon a view of things to our beclouded reason wholly free from difficulty. If we have not complete evidence according to our measure, should we not be thankful for any measure that may be vouchsafed; instead of rejecting the guidance of the lesser light, because it was not the sun itself?

Knowledge of God’s works is valuable, just so far as it is connected with a sense of our own ignorance, and an earnest application for Divine Teaching and practical obedience. We have been well reminded—‘To dare to believe less, or to pretend to understand more, than God has expressly revealed, is equally profane presumption. We should study to be wise—not above Scripture, but in Scripture; not in the things which God has concealed, but what he has revealed.’

The seed sown upon the prepared soil promises a rich harvest. “Sow to yourselves”—saith the prophet—“in righteousness; reap in mercy.” (Hos. 10:12.) The morning and evening work mark the diligence—“instant in season—out of season.” (2 Tim. 4:2.) The active exercise of charity seems to be the lesson primarily inculcated. For ‘deeds of charity are the seeds of the harvest of eternal life.

The uncertainty as to particular results—whether this or that—instead of bringing doubts and difficulties, quickens to diligence. The morning and evening imply also the continuousness of the exercise. Charity is too often a fitful impulse, rather than the daily habit. It must not be confined to almsgiving, which is the mere external work. But let it be with it, or without it—in every way. Lose no time—no opportunity. A wide field lies before us.

Do the Lord’s work in the morning of life; and in the evening withhold not thine hand. It may be given you to be weary of life—not of well-doing—nor of life, so far as it may be filled up to the end with fruitful godliness. Leave the result of your work in the hands of your gracious God. “In due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

There is no uncertainty as to the end in the work of God. (Gal. 6:9.) The question is not whether any shall prosper—but what the measure—whether this or that—or whether both shall be alike good. “To him that soweth righteousness shall be a sure reward.” (Prov. 11:18.) But the Scriptural figure seems to point to a more definite application. “The sower soweth the word.” (Mark 4:18.) When? In the morning of life.

The value of the seed sown in the hearts of the young is beyond all calculation. If the type or character of the young be ignorance, it is not absolute hardness—the fruit of nature indeed, but not of nature hardened by habit. Let them know what the world is—a mere bauble—or worse; what the hope of the Gospel is—full of joy and immortality; what are their wants—what their resources.

With all the heedlessness of youth—its volatility and self-will: in many a case the listlessness will be roused—the vacant look brightened into intelligence—the stubbornness disciplined by conviction. There is, indeed, a world of sorrow and temptation before them. But a new and bright colouring is given to their prospect. Provision is made for the roughness of the road. A Friend is engaged on their side—A Guide, Guard, and Father, who will never leave nor forsake.

Nor let this work be confined to the morning. Let vigour of perseverance hold on to the evening. Shut out despondency—the extinguisher of faith. The cases of long standing in hardness may soften. The freeness of the Gospel is Omnipotent love. And many a high thought and proud imagination have given way to its attractive power. We do not forget that this cheering prospect is connected—not with the mechanism of the means, but with the unction and blessing from above.

And yet does not hope rise to certainty in the exercise of faith, diligence, patience, and prayer? We do not presume to determine whether shall prosper—either this or that—what word of instruction may work the Divine purpose. But we know, that as the natural harvest is not lost, though a portion of the crop may perish; so the promise of the spiritual harvest is linked with the use of the means, sealed in the covenant of God, and can never disappoint.

The sovereignty of God reserves the means and times to himself. But his faithfulness secures the substance of his promise to the obedience and diligence of faith—and oh! the joy of harvest—will it not abundantly compensate for the toil?

Solomon, drawing to the close of his discourse, brings us nearer to eternity, and presses closely the matter of preparation for it. Present comfort is indeed admitted. Truly light is sweet: and a pleasant thing it is to the eyes to behold the sun. His rising is the most magnificent spectacle in the creation. His course—how it enlightens—warms—fertilizes—beautifies—blesses—filling the air with songs, and the gardens with foliage, fruit, and fragrance!

Thus to enjoy the light of the sun—our present earthly comfort—is sweet to those whose hearts centre in earth: how much more to those, who by Solomon’s rules have obtained wisdom to be delivered from the vanity and vexation so deeply connected with the best of this world’s blessings. When we see the insect enjoying the bright sun—expanding its wings, and spending his little day in fluttering from flower to flower, who does not enjoy its pleasures?

Who would cloud or shorten them, by reminding it that its happy life would soon pass away—that the winter with its days of darkness must come—and perhaps ere its arrival, some premature cold or rain may end its existence. The present is its all. And therefore we gladly say of it—‘Let it sip the sweet and revel in the light and warmth; for to-morrow it dies.

And if man had no future—if the present were his all—we should say too of him—‘Let him enjoy the good things of life—Let him crown himself with rosebuds, before they be withered—‘Let him eat and drink; for to-morrow he dies.’ (1 Cor. 15:32.) And thus it is; while the sun shines upon the earthly horizon, the evil days are put to a distance. We can scarcely admit the possibility of a change of scene. We exclude the prospect of dark days as an unwelcome intruder.

The young revel in their pleasure—in the gay enjoyment, as if it would never end. But oh! the folly—the presumption of creatures born for an eternal existence—and to whom the present life is but the preparation time for a never-ending one, and to whom death is but the door of eternity—so wilfully shutting their eyes to this near approach—determining to live for this life only, and to let eternity take its chance!

But whatever be the sweetness of the present prosperity—though we live many years, and—comparatively speaking—rejoice in them all; yet remember—what is beyond! Days of darkness—many—how many! how dark! To the man of God, indeed, all is light, whatever his outward days may be.

“Light is sown for the righteous, and springeth up out of darkness.” (Ps. 97:10; 112:4.) A better sun than that in the earthly firmament “rises upon him—with healing in his wings.” (Mal. 4:2.) But the case here supposed—at least mainly so—is one, who finds all “his good things” here, and looks for nothing beyond—who has never put forth one hearty effort upon his soul’s salvation—scarcely spent a solemn thought upon it—prepared only to live—not to die.

Days of darkness—at least towards the close of life—(Ecclesiastes 12:1)—must be calculated upon—the bloom of health blasted by disease—the seeds of some incurable malady shooting up—worldly disappointments corroding the mind—nature gradually sinking under the weight of years—the natural power to enjoy gone—(Job 10:21, 22)—the fatal stroke of death upon some object of the tenderest affection.

And without the consolations of the Bible, how many and dark will their days be!—as the darkness of the grave!—(Job 10:21, 22)—the banishment from light!—from the presence and favour of God!—(Ps 49:19; 2 Th 1:9)—the “outer darkness—the blackness of darkness for ever!” (Matt. 22:13; Jude 1:13.) The sweetness of the light—the pleasantness of the sun—for a moment—how short a moment—what a miserable compensation for the after darkness!

The poverty of the choicest earthly pleasures as a centre of rest, when all is dark beyond—many days—never ending! “Woe unto you that are rich; for ye have received your consolation! Woe unto you that are full, for ye shall hunger. Woe unto you that laugh now, for ye shall mourn and weep.” (Luke 6:21, 23, 24, 25.) Soon will the despised portion of God’s people shine forth in all the glories of eternity.

“Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” (Matt. 13:47.) Empty in contrast with it is the best of earth’s treasures—“O my soul, thou hast said unto the Lord, Thou art my God.—All my springs are in Thee.” (Ps. 16:2; 87:7.)—All that cometh from any source beside Thee—is vanity.

It is not natural for the young man to think of the many days of darkness. His spirits are buoyant. His senses are full of glow. His imagination is warm with the bright colouring of opening life. There is indeed a becoming grace in the liveliness of youth. And most readily would we show him all the over-flowing pleasures which the Bible fully allows, and which the last judgment will not condemn.

And, indeed, we cannot doubt, but the exhortation to joy and cheerfulness would be most cordially welcome, if Solomon’s meaning did not speak too clearly in the opposite direction—giving an apparent license, only to ground upon it a most solemn admonition. Obviously, therefore, the wise man is referring to excessive indulgence. The pleasures of sin—not of godliness, are described by the walk after the way of our heart—and the sight of our eyes.

Here are the ‘baits with which Satan tricketh up all his temptations, when he layeth wait for our souls. And for all these things—we are warned—God will bring us into judgment. If, then, unlawful gratification be the subject, the exhortation to rejoice and be cheerful in it cannot be intended—but emphatically the very contrary.

It is in truth the language—not unusual in Scripture—of deep—solemn—cutting irony; not pouring oil upon the flame, but restraining the vehement excitement of the passion struggling for indulgence. When argument, exhortation—and pleading have been tried—and tried in vain, the shaft of irony sometimes becomes a weapon of effective conviction. ‘Thoughtless young man—thou art determined to rejoice in thy youth. Thou hast no idea of cheering thine heart, but in carnal enjoyments.

Go on in thy course. Indulge thine appetite. Gratify all thy passions. Throw contempt upon the warnings of conscience, and the authority of the Bible. But count the cost—think at what a risk—know thou—the day of jollity will not last for ever—you may have your pleasure to-day—but the day of reckoning is at hand. For all these things God will call thee into judgment.

Fearful, indeed, must be the peril to the young man from persisting in his own way, when to a man of God—perhaps young in years, but matured in grace—the warning was deemed to be needful—“Flee youthful lusts.” (2 Tim. 2:22.) The poison is suited to every diversity of taste. The young man, ere ever he is aware, becomes in this atmosphere the “companion of fools.

And whether these fools be unprincipled, licentious, ungodly scoffers; or degraded—unblushing infidels—all have the same object in view—the destruction of their devoted victim. The fact is, that the young man too often has no idea what temptation is. He realizes no need of any special warning. He fancies himself well able to be his own keeper. He has never allowed the thought, that none but God is capable of knowing what he is, if he be left to himself.

Let him take his Bible, and learn by it what he has yet to learn—the knowledge of himself. He will then realize something more distinctly awakening of the infinite peril of staying one moment on Satan’s ground, while conscience is speaking to him—that sin is much more easily resisted at the beginning than in the progress—that his true prosperity begins at the moment, when he engages his heart to God—that sin and happiness can never be identified—that pleasure for a moment only—there may be in the ways of sin—but happiness can never be.

The man who is only half-hearted for God, may soon become a man fully on Satan’s side—and where can be his happiness? Compromising with the world, he is trifling with his highest interests—he is grasping at two shadows—the world and a worldly religion. Between these shadows—he loses the substance—loses heaven—loses his own soul. Most accurately is the young man’s course described as the way of his own heart. Hence all the wandering—all the misery.

Wisely did a Christian mother write on this point:—‘As self-will is the root of all sin and misery; so whatever cherishes this in children ensures their after-wretchedness and irreligion; whatever checks and mortifies it, promotes their future happiness and piety.

This is still more evident, if we further consider, that religion is nothing else than the doing the will of God, and not our own: that the one grand impediment to our temporal and eternal happiness being this self-will’ no indulgence of it can be trivial, no denial unprofitable.

Heaven or hell depends upon this; so that the parent who studies to subdue it in his child, works together with God in the renewing and saving a soul; the parent who indulges it does the devil’s work; make religion impracticable, and salvation unattainable. While, indeed, man “turneth every man to his own way,” (Isa. 53:6,) the honey of indulgence passes away, but the sting remains behind.

Whether it be physical or intellectual happiness, if it be sought as an end, there must be vanity. The unwelcome thought forces itself, notwithstanding all the smothering of conviction. Judgment to come.—This is no dream, or “cunningly devised fable”—no terrific picture—no theory for vain sophistry to explain away. Guilt forebodes it. Conscience confirms it. The Bible declares it. It will be a personal matter. God will call thee judgment. The extent will be universal.

For all these things—for all the sins and vanities of thy youth—for all those things which are now so grateful to our senses—for all our time, talents—opportunities—their use or abuse. Actions forgotten by ourselves will rise up with all their freshness. Even where traces had been worn out, our past history will be read again—the manifestation of all hearts—of all the secrets of all hearts.

Willing or unwilling, we must stand before the great white throne (Rev. 20:11, 12) alone in the midst of the countless throng—no evasion—no escape—no shelter—(Rev 6:15–17)—no advocate—no change—the curse of God—the entrance into an eternity of woes. What, then, is the present—the only—way of escape? Separate thyself from sin, ere sin bind thee to hell. Romove sorrow and evil from thee. They are both linked together. Evil brings sorrow both to body and soul.

Let there be an instant tearing away from besetting indulgences. Childhood is vanity—because it has so little power for goof—youth—because such active power for evil. The world passeth away, and the lust thereof. (1 John 2:17.) ‘Youth is but as the aurora, or early morning of a day—quickly gone, from thence to noon, and from noon to night.

Therefore care should be taken to spend it in such a manner as that we may have an abiding fruit and pleasure, which will not vanish with the years which were consumed in the pursuance of it. Childhood is indeed vanity, because children are often trifling in serious things, and serious in trifles. Youth is vanity, because so often preferring vanity to godliness—eager in delusive expectations.

Who does not yearn over their best interests, and long to sweep away their false hopes, and their delusive charms? The heart turned from its own way, and turned to God, brings the substance of happiness, instead of the shadow—the reality, instead of the name. Youth devoted to sin is the saddest—youth consecrated to God is the brightest—object in a world of darkness and sorrow.