THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER
by John Abbott, 1833, Worcester, Mass.
Published by the American Tract Society
The Mother's RESPONSIBILITY
"Be an example . . . in speech, in the way you live,
in your love, your faith, and your purity." 1 Timothy 4:12
"Train a child in the way he should go, and when he
is old he will not turn from it." Proverbs 22:6
A few years ago, some gentlemen who were associated in
preparing for the ministry, felt interested in ascertaining what proportion
of their number had pious mothers. They were greatly surprised and delighted
in finding that out of one hundred and twenty students, over a hundred had
been borne by a mother's prayers, and directed by a mother's counsels, to
the Savior. Though some of these had broken away from all the restraints of
home, and like the prodigal, had wandered in sin and sorrow, yet they could
not forget the impressions of childhood, and were eventually brought to the
Savior, to be a mother's joy and blessing. Many interesting facts have,
within a few years, drawn the attention of Christians to this subject.
The efforts which a mother makes for the improvement of
her child in knowledge and virtue, are necessarily retired and unobtrusive.
The world knows nothing of them; and hence the world has been slow to
perceive how powerful and extensive is this secret and silent influence.
But circumstances are now directing the eyes of the community to the
nursery, and the truth is daily coming more distinctly before the public,
that the influence which is exerted upon the mind during the first eight or
ten years of existence, in a great degree guides the destinies of that mind
for time and eternity! And as the mother is the guardian and guide of the
early years of life, from her goes the most powerful influence in the
formation of the character of man. And why should it not be so? What
impressions can be more strong, and more lasting, than those received upon
the mind in the freshness and the susceptibility of youth? What instructor
can gain greater confidence and respect than a mother? And where can there
be delight in acquiring knowledge, if not when the little flock cluster
around a mother's knee to hear of God and heaven?
"A good boy generally makes a good man." Said the mother
of Washington, "George was always a good boy." Here we see one secret of his
greatness. George Washington had a mother who made him a good boy,
and instilled into his heart those principles which raised him to be the
benefactor of his country, and one of the brightest ornaments of the world.
The mother of Washington is entitled to a nation's gratitude. She taught her
boy the principles of obedience, and moral courage, and
virtue. She, in a great measure, formed the character of the hero, and
the statesman. It was by her own fire-side that she taught her playful boy
to govern himself; and thus was he prepared for the brilliant career of
usefulness which he afterward pursued. We are indebted to God for the gift
of Washington; but we are no less indebted to him for the gift of his
inestimable mother. Had she been a weak, and indulgent, and unfaithful
parent, the unchecked energies of Washington might have elevated him to the
throne of a tyrant; or youthful disobedience might have prepared the way for
a life of crime and a dishonored grave.
Byron had a mother just the reverse of lady Washington;
and the character of the mother was transferred to the son. We cannot wonder
then at his character and conduct, for we see them to be the almost
necessary consequence of the education he received, and the scenes witnessed
in his mother's parlor. She would at one time allow him to disobey with
impunity; and at another time, she would fly into a rage and beat him. She
thus taught him to defy all authority, human and divine; to indulge, without
restraint, in sin; to give himself up to the power of every maddening
passion. It was the mother of Byron who laid the foundation of his
pre-eminence in guilt. She taught him to plunge into that sea of profligacy
and wretchedness, upon whose agitated waves he was tossed for life. If the
crimes of the poet deserve the execration of the world—the world cannot
forget that it was the mother who fostered in his youthful heart those
passions which made the son a curse to his fellow-men.
There are, it is true, innumerable causes incessantly
operating in the formation of character. A mother's influence is by
no means the only influence which is exerted. Still it may be the
most powerful; for, with God's ordinary blessing, it may form in the
youthful mind the habits, and implant the principles, to which other
influences are to give permanency and vigor.
A pious and faithful mother may have a dissolute child.
He may break away from all restraints, and God may leave him to "eat the
fruit of his own devices." The parent, thus afflicted and broken-hearted,
can only bow before the sovereignty of her Maker, who says, "be still, and
know that I am God." The consciousness, however, of having done one's duty,
divests this affliction of much of its bitterness. And beside, such cases
are rare. Profligate children are generally the offspring of parents who
have neglected the moral and religious education of their family. Some
parents are themselves profligate, and thus not only allow their children to
grow up unrestrained, but by their example lure them to sin. But there are
others, who are very upright, and virtuous, and even pious themselves, who
do, nevertheless, neglect the moral culture of their children; and as a
consequence, they grow up in disobedience and sin. It matters but little
what the cause is which leads to this neglect. The neglect itself will
ordinarily be followed by disobedience and self-will.
Hence the reason that children of eminent men, both in
church and state, are not unfrequently the disgrace of their parents. If the
mother is unaccustomed to govern her children, if she looks to the father to
enforce obedience, and to control; when he is absent, all family government
is absent, and the children are left to run wild—to learn lessons of
disobedience; to practise arts of deception; to build, upon the foundation
of contempt for a mother, a character of insubordination and iniquity. But
if the children are under the efficient government of a judicious mother,
the reverse of this is almost invariably the case. And since, in nearly
every instance, the early years of life are entrusted to a mother's care, it
follows that maternal influence, more than any thing else, forms the future
character.
The history of John Newton is often mentioned as a proof
of the deep and lasting impression which a mother may produce upon the mind
of her child. He had a pious mother. She often retired to her closet, and
placing her hand upon his youthful head, implored God's blessing upon her
boy. These prayers and instructions sunk deep into his heart. He could not
but revere that mother. He could not but feel that there was a holiness in
such a character, demanding reverence and love. He could not tear from his
heart, in after life, the impressions then produced. Though he became a
wicked wanderer, though he forsook friends and home, and every virtue; the
remembrance of a mother's prayers, like a guardian angel, followed him
wherever he went. He mingled in the most evil and disgraceful scenes of a
sailor's life, and while surrounded with guilty associates, in midnight
revelry, he would fancy he felt the soft hand of his mother upon his head,
pleading with God to forgive and bless her boy. He went to the coast of
Africa, and became even more degraded than the savages upon her dreary
shores. But the soft hand of his mother was still upon his head, and the
fervent prayers of his mother still thrilled in his heart. And this
influence, after the lapse of many guilty years, brought back the prodigal,
a penitent and a child of God; elevated him to be one of the brightest
ornaments of the Christian church, and to guide many sons and daughters to
glory. What a forcible comment is this upon the power of maternal influence!
And what encouragement does this present to every mother to be faithful in
her efforts to train up her child for God! Had Mrs. Newton neglected her
duty, had she even been as remiss as many Christian mothers, her son, to all
human view, might have continued in sin, and been an outcast from heaven. It
was through the influence of the mother that the son was saved. Newton
became afterward a most successful preacher of the Gospel, and every soul
which he was instrumental in saving, as he sings the song of redeeming
mercy, will, through eternity, bless God that Newton had such a mother.
The influence thus exerted upon the mind, in early
childhood, may, for many years, be apparently lost. When a son leaves home,
and enters upon the busy world, many are the temptations which come crowding
upon him. If he leaves home without established principles of religion and
self-control, he will most assuredly fall before these temptations. He may
indeed fall, even after all a mother has done, or can do; and he may become
deeply involved in guilt.
But he may apparently forget every lesson he learnt at
home, while the influence of a mother's instructions, and a mother's
prayers, is yet working powerfully and effectually in his heart. He will
think of a mother's tears, when remorse keeps him awake at midnight, or when
danger threatens him with speedy arraignment at the bar of God. The thoughts
of the sacredness of home will often throw bitterness into his cup of guilty
pleasure, and compel him to sigh for the virtue and the peace he has
forsaken. Even though far away, in abodes of infamy, degraded and abandoned,
he must occasionally think of a broken-hearted mother. Thus may he, after
many years, perhaps long after she has gone down to the grave, be led, by
the remembrance of her virtues, to forsake his sins.
A short time since, a gentleman, in one of our most
populous cities, was going to attend a seaman's meeting in the mariner's
chapel. Directly opposite the chapel there was a sailor's boarding house. In
the door-way sat a hardy, weather-beaten sailor, with arms folded, and
puffing a cigar, watching the people as they gradually assembled for the
meeting. The gentleman walked up to him and said, "Well, my friend, won't
you go with us to meeting?" "No!" said the sailor, bluntly. The gentleman,
who, from the appearance of the man, was prepared for a repulse, mildly
replied, "You look, my friend, as though you had seen hard days; have you a
mother?" The sailor raised his head, looked earnestly in the gentleman's
face, and made no reply.
The gentleman continued—"Suppose your mother were here
now, what advice would she give you?" The tears rushed into the eyes of the
poor sailor; he tried for a moment to conceal them, but could not; and,
hastily brushing them away with the back of his rough hand, rose and said,
with a voice almost inarticulate through emotion, "I'll go to the meeting."
He crossed the street, entered the door of the chapel, and took his seat
with the assembled congregation.
What afterward became of the man is not known. It is
however almost certain that he must have had a mother who had given him good
instruction; and when the gentleman appealed to her, hardened as the sailor
was, his heart melted. It is by no means improbable that this interview may
have checked this man in his sins, and led him to Christ. At any event, it
shows the strength of maternal influence. It shows that years of wandering
and of sin cannot erase from the heart the impression which a mother's
instructions and a mother's prayers have left there.
It is a great trial to have children undutiful when
young; but it is a tenfold greater affliction to have a child grow up to
maturity in disobedience, and become a dissolute and abandoned man. How many
parents have passed days of sorrow and nights of sleeplessness in
consequence of the misconduct of their offspring! How many have had their
hearts broken, and their gray hairs brought down with sorrow to the grave,
solely in consequence of their own neglect to train up their children in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord! Your future happiness is in the hands of
your children. They may throw gloom over all your prospects, embitter every
enjoyment, and make you so miserable, that your only prospect of relief will
be in death.
That little girl whom you now cuddle upon your knee, and
who plays, so full of enjoyment, upon your floor, has entered a world where
temptations are thick around. What is to enable her to resist these
temptations, but established principles of piety? And where is she to obtain
these principles, but from a mother's instructions and example? If, through
your neglect now, she should hereafter yield herself to temptation and sin,
what must become of your peace of mind? O mother! little are you aware of
the wretchedness with which your beloved daughter may hereafter overwhelm
you!
Many illustrations of the most affecting nature might be
here introduced. It would be easy to appeal to a vast number of living
sufferers, in attestation of the woe which the sin of the child has
occasioned. You may go, not only in imagination, but in reality, to the
darkened chamber, where the mother sits weeping, and refusing to be
comforted, for a daughter is lost to virtue and to heaven. Still, no person
can imagine how overwhelming the agony which must prey upon a mother thus
dishonored and broken-hearted. This is a sorrow which can only be understood
by one who has tasted its bitterness and felt its weight. We may go to the
house of piety and prayer, and find the father and mother with countenances
emaciated with suffering; not a smile plays upon their features, and the
mournful accents of their voice tell how deeply seated is their sorrow.
Shall we inquire into the cause of this heart-rending grief? The mother
would only reply with tears and sobs. The father would summon all his
fortitude, and say, "my daughter"—and say no more. The anguish of his spirit
would prevent the farther utterance of his grief.
Is this exaggeration? No! Let your lovely daughter, now
your pride and joy, be abandoned to infamy, be an outcast from society, and
you must feel what language cannot express.
This is a dreadful subject; but it is one which the
mother must feel and understand. There are facts which might here be
introduced, sufficient to make every parent tremble. We might lead you to
the dwelling of the clergyman, and tell you that a daughter's sin has
shattered the mother, and sent paleness to the cheek, and trembling to the
frame, and agony to the heart of the aged father. We might carry you to the
parlor of the rich man, and show you all the elegance and the opulence with
which he is surrounded; and yet he would tell you that he was one of the
most unhappy of the sons of affliction, and that he would gladly give all
his treasures if he could purchase back a daughter's virtue; that he could
gladly lie down to die, if he could thus blot out the remembrance of a
daughter's infamy.
No matter what your situation in life may be, that little
child, now so innocent, whose playful endearments and happy laugh awaken
such thrilling emotions in your heart, may cause you years of most
unalleviated misery!
And mother! look at that drunken vagrant, staggering by
your door. Listen to his horrid imprecations, as bloated and ragged he
passes along. That wretch has a mother. Perhaps, widowed and in poverty, she
needs the comfort and support of an affectionate son. You have a son. You
may soon be a widow. If your son is dissolute, you are doubly widowed; you
are worse, infinitely worse than childless. You cannot now endure even the
thought that your son will ever be thus abandoned. How dreadful then must be
the experience of the reality!
I once knew a mother who had an only son. She loved him
most ardently, and could not bear to deny him any indulgence. He, of course,
soon learned to rule his mother. At the death of his father, the poor woman
was left at the mercy of this vile boy. She had neglected her duty when he
was young, and now his ungovernable passions had become too strong for her
control. Self-willed, turbulent, and revengeful, he was his mother's
bitterest curse. His fits of rage at times amounted almost to madness. One
day, infuriated with his mother, he set fire to her house, and it was burned
to the ground, with all its contents, and she was left in the extremest
state of poverty. He was imprisoned as an incendiary, and, in his cell, he
became a maniac, if he was not such before, and madly dug out his own eyes.
He now lies in perpetual darkness, confined by the stone walls and grated
bars of his dungeon, an infuriated madman.
O how hard it must be for a mother, after all her pain,
and anxiety, and watchings, to find her son a demoniac spirit, instead of a
guardian and friend!
You have watched over your child, through all the months
of its helpless infancy. You have denied yourself, that you might give it
comfort. When it has been sick, you have been unmindful of your own
weariness, and your own weakness, and through many nights you have watched
at its cradle, administering to all its needs. When it has smiled, you have
felt a joy which none but a parent can feel, and have pressed your much
loved treasure to your bosom, praying that its future years of obedience and
affection might be your ample reward. And now, how dreadful a requital, for
that child to grow up to hate and abuse you; to leave you friendless, in
sickness and in poverty; to squander all his earnings in haunts of iniquity
and degradation!
How entirely is your earthly happiness at the disposal of
your child! His character is now, in an important sense, in your hands, and
you are to form it for good or for evil. If you are consistent in your
government, and faithful in the discharge of your duties, your child will
probably through life revere you, and be the stay and solace of your
declining years. If, on the other hand, you cannot summon resolution to
punish your child when disobedient; if you do not curb his passions; if you
do not bring him to entire and willing subjection to your authority; you
must expect that he will be your curse. In all probability, he will despise
you for your weakness. Unaccustomed to restraints at home, he will break
away from all restraints, and make you wretched by his life, and disgraceful
in his death.
But few parents think of this as they ought. They are not
conscious of the tremendous consequences dependent upon the efficient and
decisive government of their children. Thousands of parents now stand in our
land like oaks blighted and scathed by lightnings and storms. Thousands have
had every hope wrecked, every prospect darkened, and have become the victims
of the most agonizing and heart-rending disappointment, solely in
consequence of the misconduct of their children. And yet thousands of others
are going on in the same way, preparing to experience the same suffering,
and are apparently unconscious of their danger.
It is true that there are many mothers who feel their
responsibilities perhaps as deeply as it is best they should feel them. But
there are many others—even of Christian mothers—who seem to forget that
their children will ever be less under their control than they are while
young. And they are training them up, by indecision and indulgence, soon to
tyrannize over their parents with a rod of iron—and to pierce their hearts
with many sorrows!
If you are unfaithful to your child when he is young, he
will be unfaithful to you when he is old. If you indulge him in all his
foolish and unreasonable wishes when he is a child, when he becomes a man he
will indulge himself; he will gratify every desire of his heart; and your
sufferings will be rendered the more poignant by the reflection that it was
your own unfaithfulness which has caused your ruin. If you would be the
happy mother of a happy child, give your attention, and your efforts, and
your prayers, to the great duty of training him up for God and heaven.