Chapter 4

But, above all, try and help each other on the way to Heaven, and to live not for yourselves, but for God and for others. Then, indeed, you will be, as the Marriage Service says, "heirs together of the grace of life;" not merely of the few short years spent together in this life present, but of that blessed life beyond the grave, where "there is neither marrying, nor giving in marriage, but they are as the angels of God[#]."

[#] S. Matt. xxiv. 38.

*KINDNESS.*

"I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, Through constant watching wise, To meet the glad with joyful smiles, And to wipe the weeping eyes: And a heart at leisure from itself, To soothe and sympathise." _A. L. Waring._

A little kindness goes a long way! There are many people in the world, nay about our own homes, whom respectable people have given up, as being hopelessly bad; and who have become what they are because they have never known what kindness meant. If you were to go through our prisons, you would find that there is a vast number of criminals in them who can trace their first step on the road to ruin to the want of a word kindly spoken. They have never known, what you and I, reader, have enjoyed perhaps from our childhood up, a mother's tender love. The word "home" suggests to their minds thoughts of a drunken father, more a beast than a man; and of a mother who was so taken up with the cares of this world, that she had no love to give to her children. Yes, I have often heard of cases, in which a word of kindness, spoken at the right moment, might have gladdened the whole afterlife. I have known some cases in which even murder might have been prevented, if only a kind word had taken the place of an angry one.

Reader, a kind word costs very little, and goes a very long way. Even a kind look will do something. I once knew a deaf and dumb man, whose look was so kind that little children would run up to him in the street, though he was quite powerless to speak kindly to them. I have spoken of forgiveness of others--kindness and forgiveness are very nearly connected. A really kind man is always a forgiving man; and he who knows how to forgive is always a kind-hearted person.

Kindness shows itself in all the relations of life. A kind man is kind to his wife, kind to his children, and kind to his friends. But nowhere does real kindness show itself more strongly in a man, than when he is kind to animals. They quickly understand and are thankful for kindness; and in their way repay it. For instance, everybody who has had anything to do with horses knows how far a little kindness will go with them. Very often a horse's temper is upset for a whole day, because he was unkindly treated at starting. Then there are numbers of horses whose tempers have been completely ruined by their having been ill-treated when they were young. Oh! yes, a little kindness goes a long way; and it amply repays the bestower to see how gladly and how thankfully it is received.

We have, many of us, heard the story of the soldier who was killed in battle, and whose dog, unknown to him, had followed him, until he fell; and how when night descended on the battlefield, the faithful creature, mindful of his dead master's kindness to him, refused to quit the corpse, but stayed there to protect it. We have heard, many of us, the story of the poor beggar, with no friend on earth but one little dog, who, in return for his kindness in giving it food, followed him in his weary walks, until at last, on the cold and snowy high road, when the poor man lay down to die, it was his only companion. When in the morning a party of travellers passed along the road, they found them lying dead together, with a shroud of pure white snow covering them both. Then again you may have, seen Landseer's beautiful picture of "The Shepherd's chief mourner." The room is deserted, and the coffin is alone in the middle, with the shepherd's plaid thrown over it; alone, yet not alone, for there, with his head resting on his master's coffin, sits "the shepherd's chief mourner," the sheep-dog, who had followed him in life, and will not leave him, even after death. And if kindness, heaven-born kindness, goes so far with the lower animals, it has an equal, may I not say even a greater influence upon mankind. Which of us has not felt sometimes the benefit of kindness? It may have been in a time of sickness, or sorrow, it may have been a kindly word spoken as we passed away from a new-made grave. But whatever may have been the circumstances under which it was spoken, there can be but few whom a kind word has failed to reach. And if this is so; if _we_ have derived joy and happiness from a kind word, why not speak a kind word to others, after the example of our God, "for He is kind, to the unthankful and the evil[#]."

[#] S. Luke vi. 35.

Strive, then, to practise the golden rule of kindness, in whatever station God has placed you. Be genial, be kind, be civil to all, following the Apostolic rule, "Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another: even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you[#]."

[#] Ephesians iv. 32.

*OUR PARENTS.*

"Who sat and watched my infant head, When sleeping on my cradle bed? And tears of sweet affection shed? My Mother!

Who taught my infant lips to pray, And love God's holy Book, and Day, And walk in wisdom's pleasant way? My Mother!

And God, Who lives above the skies, Would look with anger in His eyes, If I should ever dare despise My Mother!"

Our earliest recollections are of our father and mother! All through our childhood they were near us, joining in our play, nursing us in sickness, comforting in pain or trouble. All that made us happy, or that made the world seem bright to us, they gave us. They were always ready to reward us when we were good; they were always grieved when we did wrong. We never can repay our parents for all their kindness to us in our infancy. All the labour which supplied the bread we ate and the bed we slept on; and shall not we do what we can for them in their old age? If your parents, reader, were religious people, they prayed for you besides, and you will never know on this side the grave how many early temptations those prayers may have kept off. You can understand now why it was that your parents sometimes punished you for doing wrong, though you might not have seen the wisdom of it then. And the day will come, believe me, when you will learn--it may be only "through much tribulation"--the wisdom of the punishments inflicted by our Father in heaven. "For _now_ we see through a glass darkly; but _then_ face to face: now I know in part, but _then_ shall I know even as also I am known." And now, in all humility, do let me say a word to those parents into whose hands this book may chance to fall. I have spoken of influence and its wonderful power in the other parts of this book. I have repeatedly dwelt on the necessity of setting a good example; let me do so once again here. I cannot put what I wish to say into better, or shorter, or simpler language than it has been put by a recent writer, who speaks as follows--"Old friends," he says, "fathers, mothers, whose heads are filled with the snows of age, whose brows are furrowed deep with the traces of life's cares and burthens, perhaps with the thorns of its crown, we look to you to teach us all that God means by death; all the blessings with which the angel who guides our pilgrimage comes laden, when he advances to clasp our hand, to be to us a rod and a staff through the glooms that hang about the threshold of the ever-lasting home. We look to see you with something of the brightness of the heavenly home upon you now; a gleam in the eyes, a tone in the look and bearing, which have been caught from long communion with the things and beings, whose full glory awaits you there. No complaints, no sadness, no sorrowful looking back to the world which you are leaving, and where your place, to which you thought yourself all-important, is already filled."

Lastly, let me return for a moment to those to whom this book is specially addressed. Young men, it is your duty and your privilege alike to take care of your parents, and to provide for their wants when they are too old or infirm to do so for themselves. Be laying by a little store of money now against that day, if it be only a few pence a week that you can save out of your wages, you can't think what a help it may be hereafter. You wouldn't like your children to leave you to die in the workhouse; you wouldn't like, when old age comes, to feel that you and your wife, who had lived happily together for years, were now to be taken to live within high walls in a pauper's dress, and not be free to go in and out as you pleased. You wouldn't like to find that you were suffering all this want, while your son, who was quite able to keep you out of it, was drinking away his wages in the nearest public-house. And if you wouldn't like this yourself, why should you treat your parents so? This, as you know, is not a made-up case; it is happening every day in almost every village in the country. God gave us parents, first, that they might take care of us; and then, if need be, that we should take care of them. The earthly parent should be in every way a pattern of the heavenly, for He is good, "even to the unthankful and the evil," to the just and to the unjust alike.

Reader, if you have not been doing your duty to your parents hitherto, go and begin at once. Try and make the old folks comfortable. Let them feel that their son is indeed a comfort to them, and a stay in their old age. And then, when old age comes upon you, God will repay you. In the hour of sickness He will be with you, comforting and blessing you: until the time come when you too have to lean on your staff for very age, while the shadows grow darker and darker round you.

*OUR CHILDREN.*

"Oh! there are times when to our sight, E'en on this side the grave, is given A glimpse revealing in full light The triumphs gained on earth by heaven.

In Him our little ones are great, In Him our feeble folk are strong; And childhood sits in high estate Amid the martyrs' noble throng." _R. Tomlins._

God has committed no more solemn charge to our care than that of our children. Over and over again in the Gospels do we find that Jesus called attention to little children. On one occasion you will remember that strife having arisen among the disciples, as to which of them should be greatest in the kingdom of heaven, Jesus, perceiving it, took a little child, and set him by His side; and from this simple circumstance He taught His disciples that in order to enter into that kingdom, they must receive His message with the same simple, trustful faith, as would a little child. And once again, we read that the parents brought their little ones to Him that He might bless them; and when His disciples, being vexed that their Master's time should be taken up with what they doubtless considered a trifling matter, Jesus, we read, rebuked them, and said, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God[#]."

[#] S. Mark x. 13.

Reader, the times have not changed so much, since Jesus walked upon our earth, that we can afford to disregard His words. Do remember that if you use bad language, or tell an impure story, or even speak an unkind word, you may be putting a stumbling-block in the children's way, and keeping them from Christ.

And now let me say a word concerning Baptism. I do not believe, and our Church nowhere teaches her children to believe, that a child who dies unbaptised is in danger of eternal damnation. But she does tell us that _the parents_ who keep their children back from that sacred ordinance, are in danger of punishment. She goes straight to the Bible, as her authority, and points out the blame which our Lord attached to the disciples, who would have kept the children from Him, teaching us thereby that the same kind of blame belongs to those parents who keep their children from holy Baptism now.

And when your children are baptised the great thing to remember is example. Parents, set a good example to your children at home. Children very quickly notice anything that is wrong, and as quickly copy it. And then they go out, and teach it to other children, and so by your bad example at home, you may have destroyed the happiness of many lives. Teach your children rather that they may have an interest beyond the grave, that for them there is laid up a rich reward in our Father's kingdom. "I pity," says a recent writer, "the son, who has never had an interest beyond the grave; but I pity far more the mother, who has never told him of the rest that remaineth for the people of God."

There were once two fathers, both of whom God had blessed with children. One lived on the river Mississippi, in America. He was a man of great wealth. Yet he would have freely given it all to have brought back his son from an early grave. One day that boy had been borne home unconscious. They did everything that they could to restore him, but in vain. "He will die," said the doctor. "But doctor," cried the poor father, "can you do nothing to bring him to consciousness, even for a moment?" "That may be," said the doctor, "but he can't live." Time passed, and after awhile the father's wish was gratified. "My son," he whispered, "the doctor tells me you are dying." "Well," said the boy, "you never prayed for me, father, won't you pray for my lost soul now?" The father wept. It was too true he had _never prayed_. He was a stranger to God. And in a little while that soul, unprayed for, passed into eternity. Young man, the day will come, when you perhaps will be a father too. If your boy was dying, and called on you to pray, could you lift your burdened heart to Heaven? Have you learned this sweetest lesson of heaven or earth, to know and hold communion with your God? And before this evil world shall have marked your dearest treasures for its prey, oh learn to lead your little ones to a children's Christ. But what a contrast was the other father! He too had a lovely boy, and one day he came home to find him at the gates of death. "A great change has come over our boy," said the weeping mother; "he has only been ill a little while, but it seems now as if he were dying fast." The father went into the room, and put his hand on his son's forehead. He could see the boy was dying. He could feel the cold damp of death. "My son, do you know you are dying?" he asked. "No, father, am I?" said the boy. "Yes, my boy, you can't live till the evening." "Well, then, I shall be with Jesus to-night, shan't I, father?" "Yes, my son, you will spend to-night with the Saviour." As he turned away, the little fellow saw tears trickling down his father's cheeks. "Don't weep for me," he said; "when I get to heaven, I shall go straight to Jesus, and tell Him that ever since I can remember, you have tried to lead me to Him." Reader, if God should give you a son, and should see fit to take him again to Himself, would you not rather he should carry such testimony as that to your Master, than have all the wealth of the world rolled at your son's feet?

Once more, then, let me earnestly pray you to set a good example. Young man, set a good example to the boys who work with you on the farm or elsewhere. They will be ready to pick up anything good or bad from you. And if they once learn it, it will be very hard to unlearn it again.

And to all who read this book, whether their work lie in the farm, in the counting-house, in the barracks, or on board ship, my last words are the same; the great secret of example is purity of heart and life. Never do anything or say anything that you would be ashamed for God to hear. And if you yourself have never thought how little it would profit you to gain the whole world, and lose your own soul, I beseech you not to let another sun go down before you think out that great question.

*HOME.*

"Friend,--when in trial and suffering, Where dost thou find thy home? Where in thy pain canst thou seek relief, Where in thy sorrows come? Where from the world's rude conflict Canst thou find a calm retreat? Where learn afresh with courage Thy trials and sorrows to meet? Where is thy shield from adversity's dart? Friend, thy _home_ is a loved one's heart.

Man,--when thy heart is torn with grief, When thy hopes are for ever gone, When adversity's cloud hangs over thy head, And earth's troubles weigh thee down,-- When those whom thou lovest have turned away, And cruelly slighted thee,-- When thy heart is crushed, and thy joys are gone,-- For shelter, oh! where canst thou flee? Man, though from comfort on earth thou'rt driven, Thy home and thy joys are with God in Heaven." _L. Jewitt._

Home! What a word that is. Is there any word like it? Any that brings so much joy, or so much sorrow, into the human breast? The fisherman who has toiled all night and caught nothing, looks anxiously for dawn, because he knows that then he will return home to wife and children. The sailor, toiling over the endless sea, rejoices as he thinks that each moment he is nearing home. The labourer in the fields is glad when the hot sun sinks towards the west, because it is nearly time to go home. The boy at school longs for the holidays to come because it means home, and to him home is everything. The weary traveller, well-nigh dead with fatigue, who sees his distant home from the top of a neighbouring hill, gathers fresh strength from the sight to continue his journey.

But the home can only be really home in the truest and best sense of the word, when the people who live there make it home-like. It need have no costly adornments, but every member of the family should have "the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price." There should be no display of angry tempers, or of hard words. Kindness should reign there; gentleness and love should be practised there. In short, that home can only be a happy one which is a copy of the home in heaven. Parents have a very solemn and important duty to perform here. It is for them to make their homes not nurseries of vice and sin, but homes of love and happiness, where Jesus and His angels will be glad to come. How many men and women there are who can trace an evil, misspent, sinful life back to their early home. It was, may be, from a father's lips they first learnt to swear; perhaps from a mother's example they first learnt to lie. And the children, too, have a solemn duty to perform with regard to home. There are life lessons which must be learnt at home, if we would learn them at all. Obedience, purity, love, and piety, all must be learnt at home; and if these are indeed to be found there, the home on earth is a fit type of the home in heaven.

Reader, are you doing your utmost to make your home on earth like the home beyond? Perhaps you have never thought much about it. Perhaps you have never considered that there was any connection between them. But there is; there should be. They should be, as it were, the same home, separated indeed by a narrow gulf, but joined by a bridge over which all must pass, even death itself.

Some people look upon death quite wrongly, for this reason. If one of their children die, they almost think that when the earth covers it they will never see it again; but the Bible does not teach that. Rather should we feel, in the beautiful words of the hymn, that our little ones are going home--

"They are going--only going-- Jesus called them long ago; All the wintry time they're passing Softly as the falling snow. When the violets in the spring-time Catch the azure of the sky, They are carried out to slumber Sweetly, where the violets lie.

All along the mighty ages, All adown the solemn time, They have taken up their homeward March to a serener clime, Where the watching, waiting angels Lead them from the shadow dim, To the brightness of His Presence Who has called them unto Him."

Yes, it is even so, "they are going, only going," from the home on earth to the home in heaven. Going from pain and sorrow and sin to a better home, where there is no bitter parting, no more sorrow, and no more death. And looking at it in this light, would you wish to keep them, would you even seek to stay their departure for one short hour. The home on earth is subject to sickness, to sorrow, and partings. But the home in heaven knows none of these. We cannot always stay at home on earth, but must needs go out to work for our living among strangers. But when we once reach the many mansions of our Father's house, we shall go no more out. There will be no more sleepless nights, or sunless days, for the Sun of righteousness shines on all alike, "and there is no night there."

Strive then to dwell together in unity on earth; doing _your_ best to make home what home should be, and God will do the rest.

*HEAVEN OUR HOME. PART I.*

"There is a blessed Home Beyond this land of woe, Where trials never come, Nor tears of sorrow flow.

There is a land of peace, Good angels know it well: Glad songs that never cease Within its portals swell." _Baker._

Our thoughts, as Christians, must needs often turn upon our heavenly home. The labourer toiling in the hot harvest-field often thinks of his distant cottage. The sailor upon the lonely sea is often thinking of those at home. And the Christian, in the midst of his troubles and temptations here, must often think of his home beyond. Heaven is the dwelling-place of God. It matters little how far away it is. God is there, and that is enough. We often feel sad when we think of our dear ones who have left us. But if we could look beyond the veil into the eternal city, we should see the Good Shepherd leading them by the green pastures, and beside the still waters. Our friends, who have died in the fear of God, are not lost to us for ever, only gone before. They had a desire "to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better"--better than the suffering, and the sorrow, and the toil. And Christ has given them their wish. And He has told us that if we would rejoin them one day, and be with them for ever, we must not lay up treasure on earth, but in heaven. Earthly treasure, gold, silver, land, popularity, and the praise of men, these may be taken from us, and given to others. But heavenly treasure--purity of life, love to God, helping travellers on the road to heaven--these we may lay up now, with the certainty that we shall never lose _them_, either in this world or in that which is to come.