Chapter 8

Now it may be you think you are quite strong enough to resist temptation. It may be you think that as you pass through this world yours will be a life of temptation, and you feel that if you can't resist it now, you never will. It was said of Sophronius, a wise teacher in Ancient Greece, that one day when his daughter Eulalia came to ask permission to visit a worldly friend, Lucinda, Sophronius forbade her. And when Eulalia, trusting in her own power to overcome the temptations of her evil companion, replied, "Dear father, you must think me childish if you imagine I should be exposed to danger by going." Sophronius took, in silence, a dead coal from the hearth, and gave it to his daughter. "It will not burn you, my child: take it," said he. Eulalia did so, and behold! her hand was blackened, and, as it chanced, her white dress too. "We cannot be too careful in handling coals," said Eulalia in vexation. "Yes, truly!" replied her father; "You see, my child, the coals, even if they do not burn, blacken."

And so, too, is it with companions. The coals may not burn, but only blacken; and companions may not leave any lasting impression for evil on the heart. Their example may not even appear to the conscience as being black and evil, but they blacken the character, at any rate for the time, none the less, if not in the sight of men, undoubtedly in the sight of God.

And there is one point more. Do remember, that even the worst of us, the most degraded, are being constantly watched by people above us in society. And very often they don't care to have anything to do with us, _because of our companions_. I once heard a foreman, who employed a great number of hands on a certain work, say of a young man, whose name had been recommended for employment, "He keeps such bad company." And though I knew the young man in question well, and knew that whatever his companions might be, he himself was pure and good, still it was of no use my speaking to the foreman, because he _was_ keeping bad company. Depend upon it, reader, there is truth in words written down in our Father's Book, "Godliness is profitable unto all things, baring _promise of the life that now is_, and of that which is to come[#]."

[#] Tim. iv. 8.

*THE BOOKS WE READ.*

"There is a Book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need Pure eyes and Christian hearts.

The works of God, above, below, Within us and around, Are pages in that Book to show How God Himself is found." _John Keble._

There are few things which have so mighty a power for good or evil, on the lives of most of us, as the books we read. Nor is it easy for us to read nothing but what is profitable and good. From the Bible, of course, we can always get wholesome reading, and always gain fresh stores of knowledge; but we cannot always be reading the Bible. And there are in these days many books and papers which a young man may come across, which can hardly fail to do him harm; books with perfectly innocent titles, and apparently quite harmless, and yet the reading they contain is as poison to the human soul. But there are plenty of good books too, thank God; and almost every village has its library, and every cottage home its books.

But even if you are ever so careful as to what you read, it is almost certain the devil will put something into your hands that you should not read. He does so to us all. Rich and poor, young and old, all alike read a good deal that they should not--for rich people have their temptations too, and very hard they are tried sometimes. Well, the only safeguard I know of is, whenever you read anything you know to be bad shut up the book at once, and read no further. And whenever you read anything that you are doubtful about, take down your Bible and ask God to shew you, out of His Word, whether what you have been reading is right or wrong. You know, I daresay, that all along a part of the south coast of England there are a number of round towers, built at certain distances from each other. And the object of these towers was this. Many years ago we expected a foreign foe to land on our shores, and we built these watch-towers to guard against surprise. And it is just the same with the Bible. God has said, I won't prevent the devil trying to persuade you to read these bad books, and I won't prevent your reading them; but I give you the Bible, which, if you compare its words with the words of the books you read, they will, like the men in the watch-towers, give you warning of the enemy's approach. Reader, if you require plainer words than those written in God's Bible, I fear you will never read them on earth, and you certainly will never read them in heaven. How often we hear men say, "I'm no scholar." And this is given as an excuse for not coming to church, and for not reading the Bible, and a lot of other things too. But there's many a man who will tell you he's no scholar, if you ask him to read the Bible; but if you give him a newspaper and tell him there's an account of a horrible murder in it, he'll take that gladly, and he won't tell you he's no scholar then! He'll very soon find that either his wife or his children can read to him about the murder of a fellow creature, but he won't take the trouble to ask them to read to him about the death of God's only Son.

Oh, reader, be honest with God. He is honest, and means what He says. Man may not see through your excuses. He may go away and pity you for your want of learning, and you may be sitting at home thinking how cleverly you have deceived him. But all the while, though you little think it, God is holding up your character, and He sees through you, and every bit of what He sees, is written down in His great book to be brought up against you at the last day. Some people give as an excuse for reading bad and immoral books, that they can understand them. They say they _can't understand_ the Bible. No doubt that is true. God says the carnal man--that is the man who loves this world and things of the flesh--cannot understand spiritual things; and the Bible is a spiritual book. How can the unwashed heart understand the Bible? Well, you say if it is a sealed book, how am I to understand it? The word of God, I answer, may be and is darkened to the worldly man, but the way of salvation is written so plainly, that a little child of six years old can read it, if he will. And oh! if you come across any impure or sinful book, do be careful what you do with it. Don't let it lie about. A little child may take it up and read it, and it may be, through your carelessness, its first step on the road to ruin. Don't say, that's not my look out! Reader, it is your look out; and God will lay it to your charge. If you stop under a hayrick to light your pipe, and you carelessly throw the lighted match away among the hay, so that the rick catches fire, isn't that your fault? You didn't mean, I daresay, to set fire to the rick; you didn't leave home, and go to that particular place in order to set that rick on fire, but I think that any magistrate in the kingdom would make you suffer for your carelessness. And so it is with God. He looks at results as well as at intentions. And if you carelessly leave a bad book about, and it happens to do harm, the punishment of that harm, be it little or be it much, will rest upon your soul in the life to come.

*TRUE MANLINESS.*

"There are other battles to fight, my boy, Than the battle of which you speak; There are battles which none can win, my boy, But the lowly in heart and meek; There are battles in which earth's mightiest fail, And the strong ones are the weak.

There's a battle, my boy, with the world's rude laugh At the lessons our Saviour taught, And many a battle with self, before We can do the things we ought; A battle which, not for the praise of men, Is in secret and silence fought.

If in the battle of life, my boy, Thou would'st stand on thy Captain's side, With the white-robed hosts that follow the Lamb, The called, and chosen, and tried, Thou must take up thy cross, denying thyself, And follow the Crucified." _From_ "_The Child's Book of Ballads._"

There is nothing a young man desires more than to be thought manly. At school he is constantly told to be manly. And indeed true manliness is a grand thing. How often we hear our young men say that they want to be more independent. You may have said so yourself, reader; what harm if you have? Isn't it a fine thing, and a noble thing, and a right thing to be independent? Certainly it is; and I hope before the end of this chapter to have shewn you the difference between true and false independence, and true and false manliness.

Now let us deal with manliness first. What is it to be manly? To be manly means to be man-like--like a man. And He Who was our great pattern man, the only perfect pattern that ever lived, has shewn us in His own life what true manliness means. He knew well how fond young men in all ages would be of trying to be manly, and so He gave them His advice how to be so. Listen to it. He said, "Except ye be converted, and become _as little children_, ye shall in nowise enter into the kingdom of Heaven." As little children! Young man, do you hear that? you must become as submissive, as obedient, as trustful and believing as a little child, if you would be manly.

And one of the greatest marks of true manliness is respect paid to women. A true man is ever courteous, and careful of his words and acts in the presence of a woman. He indulges in no thoughts of impurity or lust; but if they arise he drives them out. Like Joseph, when he is tempted to sin against his master's law of purity, he says to himself, "How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" I know no surer test of manliness than that. To be careful of woman's virtue, and to be mindful of God's commands. To help the weak and those who cannot help themselves, to think for those who will not think for themselves, is manliness indeed; and he who will do these things in the midst of a mocking crowd, shews that he is truly manly.

And next, let me say a word about independence. So many young men nowadays seem to think that independence consists in being rude to every one they meet. But if this is your idea of independence you may be sure you are on the wrong road, and the sooner you get right the better. Real independence is, as I said, a fine and noble thing. An independent man can walk through the world with his head up, and give every one a civil answer, for he is as good as they. Oh! learn, reader, to be more truly independent. Learn to withdraw your dependence from man, and put it all on God. It is quite possible to be too dependent on man; it is quite impossible to be too dependent on God. Whether you wish it or not, you must depend on Him. He sends you life and health, food and raiment, all that you have, and all that you hope for. If you have saved enough money you can take a cottage, and live comfortably and independently in your old age; but if you have saved ever so much money, you can never lose your dependence on God.

Lastly, let me in all earnestness say a kindly word to young men. You are just beginning life; everything is before you; and perhaps you feel, as indeed you ought to feel, that as you grow in years you wish to grow in true manliness and independence. Very well; take a kindly word of advice from a stranger; it is this, always be civil to everybody. A little civility goes a long way, farther often than you think. Be civil to your superiors, and they will think the more highly of you for it. Be civil to your equals, and they will respect you for it. Be civil to your inferiors, and they will look up to you for it. It costs very little to give a civil answer, and we often have reason afterwards to regret an uncivil word, uncivilly spoken. I do believe that this is a most important thing in going through life. We so constantly hear whole masses of men classed together and unfairly judged because of the conduct of one of their number who may chance to have been met. I have so often heard railway porters, for instance, described as a most civil class, and no doubt they find their civility paying. Above all, reader, to look at it from a higher ground, civility is pleasing to God. Of Christ it was said, "When He was reviled, He reviled not again[#];" and if He set us this example of civility it was to shew us that we can be truly manly, and truly independent, and at the same time truly civil, and truly Christian in heart.

[#] 1 Pet. ii. 23.

*HONESTY.*

"'Tis but a flash that spans the sky, A few short hours of joy to wreathe: Reader! this moment you and I Might cease to breathe!

Then, live more worthy of a soul Implanted by a Hand Divine! Press onward to a richer goal! While yet there's time!

He who can so secure his fame, Has nobly filled his narrow span, And future times shall write his name, _An honest man!_" _John Burbidge._

"Honesty is the best policy" is a saying we frequently hear. And we may have said, "Ah! that's all very well for thieves and such like, but it doesn't apply to me." Reader, you may be honest, strictly honest in the sight of man, but are you strictly honest in the sight of God? You may never have taken so much as a pin that did not rightly belong to you, but are you quite certain that you have never taken of the things of God?

Now let us just consider this for a few moments. To-day, we will say, is Sunday, God's holy day! To-day, of all days in the week, God has chosen to be set apart for His worship. He has given you time to be so employed. He has given you an open church to go to. He has given you health and power to go, and yet perhaps you reject all, and never go at all. Don't you see that you have taken of things of God, that you have taken His gift of health, and His gift of Sunday rest--things given that they might be spent in His service, and in worshipping Him in His church. And yet you accept these gifts, you take them as the most natural things in the world, and use the gifts of Almighty God for your own selfish purposes. And is this honest? Certainly not.

But we will take another and a commoner case, if you like. God has perhaps given you influence among your fellows, and as you go about among them, you hear some person spoken against in terms which you know are not true. And yet you allow the matter to pass, because you are afraid that if you spoke, you might lose your influence. You forget that even if you lost it for the time, God, for Whose sake you spoke, would surely give it back, if He thought it good for you; and besides this, you would have the consciousness of having done an honest deed, and of having done it in an honest fearless way.

And so you see that it is quite possible to be a strictly honest man in the sight of men, and a very dishonest man in the sight of God. And which, think you, is the best? Which will stand you in good stead at the day of judgment, your character as it has appeared to men, or as it appears to God? I think the latter. For in the Bible we are taught that the sight of God and that of men are two utterly different things, "for the Lord seeth not as man seeth, for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."

Some time ago in Edinburgh two gentlemen were standing at the door of an hotel one very cold day, when a little boy with a poor thin blue face, his bare feet red with cold, and with nothing to cover him but a bundle of rags, came and said, "Please, sir, buy some matches." "No, don't want any," the gentleman said. "But they are only a penny a box," the poor little fellow pleaded. "Yes, but you see we don't want a box," the gentleman said again. "Then I'll give you two for a penny," the boy said at last. And so to get rid of him the gentleman who tells the story says, I bought a box of him. But then I found I had no change, and so I said I would buy a box tomorrow. "Oh do buy them to-night, if you please," the boy again pleaded, "I will run and get you the change, for I'm very hungry." So I gave him the shilling, and off he started. I waited for him, but no boy came. Then I thought I had lost my shilling; still there was that in the boy's face I trusted, and I did not like to think ill of him. Late in the evening I was told a boy wanted to see me. When he was brought in, I found it was a smaller brother of the boy that had got my shilling, but if possible still more ragged and poor and thin. He stood for a moment diving into his rags, and then said, "Are you the gentleman that bought the matches from Sandie?" "Yes." "Well, then, here's fourpence out of your shilling; Sandie can't come, he's very ill; a cart ran over him, and knocked him down, and he lost his cap and his matches and your sevenpence, and both his legs are broken, and the doctor says he'll die, and that's all." And then, putting the fourpence on the table, the poor child broke out into great sobs. So I fed the little man, and went with him to see Sandie. The two poor little things lived alone, father and mother both dead. Poor Sandie lay on a bundle of shavings; he knew me as soon as I came in, and having told me how his legs were broken, he added, as his eyes fell on his little brother, "Oh Reuby, little Reuby! I'm sure I'm dying, and who'll take care of you when I am gone?" Then I took his hand and said, I would always take care of Reuby. He understood me, and had just strength enough left to look up at me, as if to thank me; the light went out of his blue eyes. And in a moment--

"He lay within the light of God Like a babe upon the breast, Where the wicked cease from troubling And the weary are at rest."

That story was told in the noblest church of our great city. It was reported in the papers the following day. And I have no hesitation in saying that beautiful as are the words in which it is told, and wonderful as the effect may have been on the hearts of those who heard it, it was a sight far more wonderful than any we can imagine, when that story was told in the courts of the kingdom of heaven.

Reader, think of little Sandie when you are tempted to say you are honest, and ask yourself the question, "Can I lay my hand upon my heart and say, My God, I am honest indeed, honest as that poor child was, honest before my neighbours, honest before Thee."

*BEARING THE CROSS.*

"'Take up thy cross,' the Saviour said, If thou would'st My disciple be; Deny thyself, the world forsake, And humbly follow after Me.

'Take up thy cross,' nor heed the shame, Nor let thy foolish pride rebel: Thy Lord for thee the Cross endured, To save thy soul from death and hell!

'Take up thy cross,' and follow Christ-- Nor think till death to lay it down; For only he who bears the cross, May hope to wear the glorious crown!" _C. W. Everest._

Bearing the cross, or self-denial, as it is sometimes called, forms a necessary part of the daily life of every Christian man. Every one of us can give up something for the good of others. A rich man is called upon to give up one thing, a poor man another. But let none think that his riches or his poverty, as the case may be, will excuse him from bearing the cross of Christ. And indeed in the heart of any true servant of God, there will be no wish to shirk the hard and disagreeable part of His service. His heart will be so filled with love and devotion to Christ, that he will gladly bear the cross, "despising the shame." It may be we are called upon to give up our time to go and see a sick neighbour, or it may be we are asked to do a neighbour a good turn by going on an errand for them when we wish to go elsewhere. But whatever it may be, it is certain that opportunities for practising self-denial occur in the lives of us all. "If any man will come after Me"--Christ has told us--"let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me[#]." There is the command, now hear the promise made to such as fulfil the command,--"and where I am, there shall also My servant be[#]."

[#] S. Matt. xvi. 24.

[#] S. John xii. 26.

Self-denial may be in very simplest matters, and yet be quite as acceptable to Christ as would be the most costly gifts bestowed by the rich upon His service. You remember when Jesus was on earth, how one day He was sitting over against the Treasury, and as He sat there He kept taking notice of all the pieces of money that were cast into the Treasury. Now there happened to come by some very rich people, and they put large sums into the box, and passed on their way. And again others came, and they too being rich, "cast in much." But after awhile there came by one who is described as "a certain poor widow;" and "she cast in all she had, even all her living." How much it cost her to give that one farthing Jesus Christ knew well. Instead of keeping it to spend upon her own needs, she brought it up to the temple Treasury and gave it back to God. And that is just what you must do. I do not say it is necessary, or even right, that people should in these days give everything they possess to God. In one sense indeed we ought to give up _all we have_ to the service of Christ; I mean by this that we ought at all times to be ready to part with things earthly, if they interfere with the cross we are called upon to bear. And I do say that we ought to deny ourselves some little comfort or pleasure, and make a rule of giving the money that we should thus have spent upon ourselves to the service of Almighty God.

It is told of a great and good man who lived many years ago at Cambridge, that on one occasion, being disheartened by the wickedness of many of those with whom he came in daily contact, he retired to his rooms, and taking his Bible he asked God to give him such help from its pages as would serve him in his trouble. He opened the Bible at the twenty-seventh chapter of S. Matthew's gospel, and his eye quickly fell on the thirty-second verse, "And as they went out they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name; him they compelled to bear His Cross." Charles Simeon, for it was he, rose from his knees comforted and strengthened. The likeness between his own name of Simeon and the Cyrenian's name of Simon, struck him forcibly; and he came to the conclusion that it was the will of his Father in heaven that he should bear the cross under which he was labouring.

Reader, yours, like his, may be the cross of ridicule, of your friend's laughter at the things of God; and a bitter cross it is to bear! But try and look upon it as a cross laid upon you by your Saviour, a cross which He has borne before you up that bitter hillside of Calvary. Remember it is not merely that you are called upon to bear the cross, but, like Simon of Cyrene, that you should "bear it _after_ Jesus." Therefore ask Him to give you strength to take up your cross daily, cheerfully and lovingly, and bear it after Him. Then self-denial will be less hard for you to practise than it is now. I do not say it will be pleasant, for that it can never be, but the sting of it will be taken away; indeed for the Christian, it long ago was taken away and laid on Him Who bore the burden of our sins on Calvary. So let yours be a life of obedience here, a living for others, a pleasing of others, not of yourself; "For even Christ pleased not Himself[#]," but "was made sin for us, Who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God through Him[#]."

[#] Rom. xv. 3.

[#] 2 Cor. v. 21.

*HUMILITY.*