Part 5

In this light, then, we can understand, brethren, the place of the Christian family, as always the first of social institutions. Such is the view I wish to urge, because I believe that, far more than we suppose, this law of the family enters into the most real questions of our time as to popular education or social reform. We live in a day of theories; and in such a day we are most apt to forget the simple truths, which, in Coleridge’s words, “are so true, that they lie bed-ridden by the side of the most exploded errors.” I speak no mere sentiment; I address myself to the plain sense and Christian experience of all. It is the problem that presses on us to-day more than ever, when we look at the mingled good and evil of our modern world; when we enter one of our great cities, where wealth glitters as if there were no suffering, yet a step apart there lurks a world of beggary and crime, which our Christianity has hardly pierced, although it has sent a Livingston into the heart of Africa;—what is the hope of Christian more than pagan progress, of a Paris or New York more than a Rome? I give the answer, which I think all history as well as the Gospel gives. The purity of the household is the salt of our civilization. I know no other answer. Need I then, state the ground on which such a truth rests? The only lasting influence which can preserve or heal the social body is one that works from the root. We can not, with dreamers like Rousseau, believe the savage better than the civilized state. Art and science bring manifold vices with the good, yet we can never grapple with the sins of our day by vague railing against luxury. In the decaying age of the Roman world a Jerome retired into his cave at Bethlehem; but his idle despair did not cure the evil. We often indulge the same false humor. We speak of a London or a New York as the swollen ulcer of society, but we forget that we may as well talk of a body without its brain; that it is in mutual circulation, the country feeding the city with fresh blood, the city pouring it back enriched in its double circuit, the life is maintained; and thus while we see the vices, we should see also the enlarged activities, the myriad callings for the poor, the treasures of art and culture for all, the uncounted charities walking in every haunt of sorrow or sin. But this growth of civilization has in it no self-preserving might. A refined culture is no safeguard against our moral diseases. We repeat often that this American people is abler to keep its freedom and virtue, because of the education of all: yet it is one of those surface truths that may cover a fallacy. I believe heartily in popular education. But there is a more knowing vice as well as virtue. The mob of Paris is more intelligent than the country boor; but it is a witty and polished animal. Such training, without a deeper root, only quickens the weeds in the rank field of our time, and chokes the public conscience.

Whatever, then, the form of our civilization, it must depend on the tone of our household life for its healthy growth, because this precedes all else in its shaping power. All the germs of personal character, truth, purity, honesty, reverence of law, must be implanted in this soil. The state rests on it. The church rests on it, and its teaching is barren, unless it begin with home nurture. We may make what laws we will for the suppression of vice, what plans we will of education, what better methods of industry; but what are they without the education of the character? What is our most perfect theory of government, unless there be a self-governed people? What are commercial rules, if there be no conscience of integrity and honor? Study this truth in its widest bearings. Our time is marked by its noble efforts for reform. We hail each healthy improvement in the condition of the poor, the opening of new channels of labor, the breaking down of false monopolies.

It is thus, my friends, we are to learn the bearing of such a truth on our own land and time. We can not study the growth of society, especially in our great cities, without observing that there are many influences, such as I have already described in the old Pagan civilization, which tend to impair the purity of home. The family habits decay in the larger world of sensual splendor. It is becoming a hard thing for our young men of fashion to afford the luxury of marriage; and our young women learn that the aim of life is a rich husband, who can supply the gold for the wardrobe and the glitter of an establishment. We have imported from abroad within these few years many of the loose ideas of modern Epicurism. But there are, besides, influences peculiar to our American society, which are developing a type of precocious youth not pleasant to look upon. I know not whether it be the abuse of our free institutions, that begets our style of manners: but we are too fast losing the habits of home authority and filial reverence. It has been truly said of us, that we have as much family government as ever, but the young govern the parents. We have no children now-a-days. Our infants leap from the nursery into the drawing-room; and while abroad a son or a daughter has hardly left the retreat of home, here they are already veterans in the ways of fashion, and society is quite surrendered to them. Many of our foreign visitors have repeated the remark of De Tocqueville, that an American girl has more of self-poised ease, but is wanting in the fresh charm seen so often in the young maidens of England or France. I doubt not there is a better side to this. I would not keep them, as is too often done abroad, shut in nursery or convent without the education of the character. I love the intelligence, the generous freedom of youth, but I wish we might not lose with these the modest heart, the simple tastes of past years. It maybe the passing excess of our national childhood, but it is not to be flattered as it is too often. I know that I am very old-fashioned in my ideas, yet it may be well if we soberly reflect on these things. We may grow in wealth and all the arts of social culture, but let these fast habits of the time, this whirl of our modern life eat into the heart of our home piety, and the whole body must die of its own gangrenes.

In that conviction I urge on you, my friends, your personal obligation. Who of us can enough appreciate its meaning? Who of us, if he could keep afresh the feeling of awe and tenderness with which he looked on the face of his first-born infant, and felt what an undiscovered world was opened to him, who would ever need to learn his duty? What a work it is, how ceaseless, how growing at each step, how delicate in all its adaptations, how asking all our love, our thoughtfulness, our patience! I offer you no system of education. I repeat only the principle, which I thank God is the root of all wholesome teaching, that a Christian godliness is the growth of the whole character; and therefore it begins with the recognition of the child as a new-born member of the family of Christ; and plants its simplest truths in the moral affections, and blends them with the real duties of life. This is sound sense and piety. This, in Wordsworth’s happy line, is

Pure religion breathing household laws.

Give your offspring this training of the character; teach them to be frank and open-hearted, to hate a lie or a mean action, to be kind to the poor, to protect the weaker, to respect gray hairs, to reverence your authority from love not fear, to cherish the natural pleasures and employments of home, a book or a ramble more than the finery of modish children young or old; above all to be always constant in their Christian habits, with no affectations of a premature piety, with a child’s faults, but a child’s sweet faith; give them, I say, this training, if you will have them men and women indeed.

[_April 15._]

FINDING AND BRINGING.

By the REV. WILLIAM M. TAYLOR, D.D.

It is a great thing when a man “finds” Christ. Now, in working out this thought, we must have a clear idea of what we mean by “finding” Christ. Andrew and John were in visible and bodily contact with Jesus, and it might seem, therefore, that it was an easier thing to come to Christ when he was on earth, than it is now, when he is enthroned in heaven. But that is a mistake. Many came to converse with him when he lived in the world, who yet failed to find the Savior in him. Multitudes might be pushed into contact with him that day when the poor woman timidly sought a cure by touching his clothes; but it was to her alone that he referred when he said, “Somebody hath touched me.” Therefore, the contact in her case must have been something more than physical, and could be nothing else than the application of her soul to him in simple faith for healing.

In like manner, the finding of the Messiah by Andrew and John must have been something else than their coming into conversation with him, and could be nothing less than a description of the fact that they were intellectually convinced that Jesus of Nazareth was the promised Messiah, and were sincerely willing to accept him as their Savior and guide.

But the presence of Jesus in actual humanity before us is not essential to the exercise of such confidence as that; and so soon as a man becomes convinced that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, and is willing to accept salvation at his hands, he “finds” Christ just as truly as he was found by Andrew and John, as recorded in this section of the sacred narrative. Now, when a man “finds” Christ thus, it is for him the greatest event of his life, dominating and directing every after-circumstance in his career.

How much the history of the world has been affected by the discoveries which men have made! Take a few. The discovery of America; the invention of printing; the discovery of the power of steam, and the manifold application of the steam-engine; the invention of the telegraph: who shall say how much all these have done for the progress of civilization? But put them all together, they have not done so great things for the world at large as the discovery of Christ does for every soul that “finds” him. It opens up a whole new world for his exploration; it enstamps a new name and nature upon his heart; it brings him under the influence of a motive principle which “laughs at impossibilities,” and removes mountains; and it gives him a means of communication with the unseen as real, as mysterious, and as immediate as that hidden cable whereon the messages of two hemispheres vibrate in response to each other. It relieves his conscience from the weight of guilt; it elevates his intellect; it purifies his affections; it forms his character; it gives a new aim to his life and new center to his heart, and brings him so under the constraining influence of the love of Christ, that, while retaining the great outstanding marks of his individuality, he may yet truly be said to be a new man. See how this comes out in Paul. Converted or unconverted, the man of Tarsus would still have been a leader of his fellows. But mark how, after he has found Christ, his whole being goes into a new direction, and becomes transfigured and ennobled by the change. His energy becomes sublimed, his ambition purified, his nature elevated. Behold, also, how it appears in Peter! What a contrast between the fisherman and the Apostle! And how much this discovery of Christ made by him, through Andrew’s guidance, did to give him character and influence among men! Had he never found the Messiah, who had ever heard his name. But from this hour he begins to be illustrious! Said I not truly, therefore, that it is a great thing when a man finds Christ? It is indeed the very greatest thing for safety, for happiness, for usefulness, for honor, that can be said of any man, when it is affirmed of him that he has found Christ. My hearer, can it be truly said of you?

Notice, thirdly, that when a man has found Christ, he ought to bring others to Jesus. The first thing Andrew did was to tell to another the good news which had already thrilled his own heart. So Philip, as recorded in this same chapter, found Nathanael, and repeated this same news to him. Indeed, it is quite worthy of note how often this “finding” occurs in this delightful narrative. Andrew “findeth” Messiah; then he “findeth” his brother. Jesus “findeth” Philip; and Philip “findeth” Nathanael. So that, as Trench has beautifully said, in allusion to the well-known exclamation of Archimedes in connection with one of his discoveries, this “is the chapter of the Eurekas.”[I] “I have found him! I have found him!” Indeed, the promptings of one’s own nature here are in perfect accordance with the commands of the Lord; for we can not but tell to others the tidings which have made us glad; and in proportion to the happiness which they have produced in us, will be our eagerness to make others sharers with us in our delight. As Matthew Henry says here, “True grace hates all monopolies, and loves not to eat its morsels alone.” The woman of Samaria ran to tell her townspeople of the great Messiah, and the disciples who were scattered abroad by the first persecution “went everywhere preaching the Word.” The command is, “Let him that heareth say, Come!” and every Christian should become thus a missionary of the Cross. Indeed, we have not rightly heard, if there is not within us an impulse to say “Come.” If there be no enthusiasm within us for the diffusion of the Gospel, or the conversion of sinners, we make it only too apparent that we have not the spirit of Christ; but if our souls are stirred at the sight of our perishing fellow-men, and our hearts prompt us to make efforts for their salvation, we prove that we are in sympathy with those celestial beings among whom there is “joy over one sinner that repenteth,” and that the same mind is in us which was in him who died that men might be redeemed.

“As ye go, preach.” “Go into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature.” These are what the Great Duke once styled the “marching orders” of believers; and it is at our peril, if we refuse to carry them out. But when the word “preach” is used, let us beware of supposing that we need all the outward accessories of a crowded congregation and a modern church, in order to obey this command. The meaning simply is, that we should tell the good news as we have opportunity. We may “preach” by conversing with our friend as we walk down with him to business in the morning, or by an incidental remark introduced, not obtrusively and impertinently, but naturally and lovingly, as we talk with our fellow-traveler in the steamboat or in the railway car; or by the giving of an interesting volume that contains the truth to some ingenuous youth upon his birthday; or by repeating at the couch of some sick one the leading portions of a sermon which we have just heard in the sanctuary; or by teaching a class in the Sabbath-school; or by bringing a friend with us to church where we know that the faithful preacher will be sure to have some word that will point out the way to the Cross; or even, without a word at all, we may preach the most eloquent and powerful of all sermons, by simply living for Jesus where we are. There is a sphere for every one; and none can claim exemption from this great Gospel law, “As ye go, preach.”

But who would desire exemption when there is so great need for the exertions of all? See how earnest the apostles of evil are to allure men to destruction, through one or other of the several avenues that lead to death; and shall we be less eager to labor for their salvation? Behold how indefatigable are the endeavors of those who live to spread abroad the news of every day! What telegraphic agencies they use to bring to this one center the record of important occurrences the world over! What magnificent machinery they employ to multiply the number of impressions of their journals! And how eager they are to send forth their messengers in the gray morning twilight, to leave at every door their daily photographs of God’s providence as it reveals itself to their eyes—alas! not always clear enough to read it right. Shall they be so enthusiastic about the news of earth, and we be inactive with the better news of the Gospel? It is told of the commentator Thomas Scott that, as he went to preach in a church in Lothbury at six o’clock in the morning, he used to observe that, if at any time in his early walk he was tempted to complain, the sight of the newsmen, equally alert, and for a very different object, changed his repining into thanksgiving. So, every time we take up a newspaper let us feel reproved for our remissness in telling the good news of God’s salvation to our fellow-men; let us be stirred up to self-sacrifice and devotion in this glorious cause, and let us resolve to do our utmost in bringing others to the Savior whom we have found for ourselves.

Notice, in the fourth place, that, in seeking to bring others to Jesus, we should begin with those most intimately connected with us. Andrew first went to find Simon, his “own brother.” In like manner, Philip sought his friend Nathanael. And the Lord Jesus himself laid down the same general law when he commissioned his disciples to preach repentance and the remission of sins “among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.” Now, this is a point of pre-eminent importance; for among those who really desire to be useful in the world the idea is too common, that they must go somewhere else than where they are in order to find their proper and peculiar work. They look so far away, and so high up, for a missionary field, that they overlook the work that is already waiting for them just at their feet. Thus, while professing to be eager for labor, they are standing in the market-place, “all the day idle.”

[_April 22._]

FINDING AND BRINGING.

In spiritual activity, as in all other matters, it is a good rule to begin at the beginning. How many, in trying to learn some of the sciences—say geology, for example—have disdained the use of hand-books for the mastering of the elements, and, plunging at once into some elaborate treatise, which presupposed familiar acquaintance with the rudiments, have felt themselves unable to understand it, and have thrown up the whole study in disgust! Now, it is just thus many do in Christian work. They begin at the wrong place, and so they speedily become discouraged. Work from the center out, and the radii of your influence will go out to every point of the circumference; but if, leaving your own proper center, you take your station somewhere on the circumference, your labor will produce very little result. Now, home is the center of every man’s sphere; and it is there he must begin to work for Jesus. Let the husband begin with the wife, and the wife with the husband; the parents with the children; and the children, where need is, lovingly and humbly, with the parents; the brother with his sister; and the sister with her brother. Then, when the home sphere is filled up, let your life’s influence flow over, and seek to benefit those with whom you are coming into daily business contact. Thus the branches of your vine will “run over the wall,” and your sphere will widen ever with your endeavors.

“Oh yes!” you will say to me, “that may be all very true. But it is far more difficult thus to begin at home than to commence abroad. I would rather teach a class in the mission-school than to speak to my own family about Jesus. I would almost sooner address a meeting than make a private appeal to my brother or my sister.” But why is this? Surely it can not be because you love those who are nearest to you less than you do those who are farther away! Can it be because you would get more prominence and honor among men, by working abroad, than you could secure by laboring at home? Or is it because you are conscious that your home conduct would destroy the influence of any teachings on which you might venture there? You know best. But whatever be its cause, let me beseech you to revise your whole procedure, and make home the headquarters of your effort. Can it be that there are here a wife and husband who have never had one hour of heart communion with each other on this all-important matter? If there be, may God himself in some way break that silence that has sealed their tongues; and let us all rest assured that the truest revival of religion will be gained when our church members are resolved to test what shall be the result of beginning to labor thus for Christ at home.

We are making far too little in these days of the Church in the house. We are waiting for our children to be converted by outside influences, when, if we were to look at the matter rightly, it should be our ambition to be ourselves the leaders of our sons and daughters to the Lord. Some years ago I read an account of the manner in which a cold church was stirred into warmth and vitality; and as it bears directly on the point to which I am now referring, I will take the liberty of introducing it here. At one of the conference meetings, a simple man, not remarkable for fluency or correctness of speech, made an appeal something to the following effect: “I feel, brethren, real bad about the people who don’t love the Lord Jesus Christ here in our own neighborhood. We’re not as we ought to be, that’s very certain, but it’s hard work rowing against the stream. We find that out when we talk to men about religion on Sunday who haven’t any religion all the week. They don’t mind us. And just so with the young folks. Their minds all seem running one way. Now, what’s to be done? Not much with the grown folks, for they aren’t controlled by us, and we can only drop a word now and then, and pray for them. But here’s our own children. I have four boys, and only one of them comes to the communion with his mother and me. And I don’t think I have done my duty to those younger boys. They love me, and God knows I love them; but I kind o’ hate to speak to them about religion. But rather than see them go farther without my Jesus for their Jesus, I’m going to ask them to join him. I’m going to pray with them; and if I can’t tell them all they want to know, why, our minister can. Brethren, I’m going to try to turn the stream for my boys. Home is the head of the river. I mean to begin to-night. Won’t some father do like me with his boys, and give me his word out?” Scarcely had he seated himself, when, one after another, some thirty people pledged themselves, saying, “I’ll do the same at my house;” and the pledge was kept. In a short time the minister’s labors began to tell as they had never done before. The influence spread, but there was no excitement. On the occasion of the communion service, from family after family, one and another came to enroll themselves among the followers of Jesus, and nearly every one that came was under twenty-five years of age. So, through revived home effort, the work of God was stimulated both in the church and in the neighborhood. My friends, this witness is true, “Home is the head of the river.” Is there no one here to-night who will join in the resolution made by that earnest man, and say, “By the grace of God I’ll do the same at my house?”