Advice to Youth
by David Magie, Published by the American Tract Society
in 1855.
THE SEASON OF YOUTH.
"Solomon my son is young and tender," was the remark of
one of the best of men and kindest of fathers. There is nothing striking in
language like this, viewed simply by itself; and yet it can scarcely be
uttered without awakening a train of emotions in every generous bosom. No
other period of life affects so deeply human character and destiny, and none
other calls forth so many solicitudes and prayers.
Three classes of people range themselves around us—the
aged, the middle-aged, and the young. To each belong hopes and fears, joys
and sorrows, peculiar to itself. As men of gray hairs have trials and
comforts which may very properly be denominated their own, so it is also
with those in the meridian of life, and with bright and buoyant youth. At
every different period, existence assumes a new phase, and requires to be
addressed in new and appropriate terms. None of these groups of human beings
must be overlooked; but if it be right to discriminate, we can easily see
where our chief interest should be concentrated. To be useful to the young
is to be useful for the longest time, and on the largest scale.
But who is sufficient to assume the office of guide to a
company of immortal beings, in the morning of life! I feel my inability,
beloved youth, in the burden of responsibility which I take upon myself in
attempting barely to sketch the path in which it will be safe for you to
walk. Yet one thing encourages me—your dearest and best friends and parents,
will all afford me their countenance.
The plan to be developed in the chapters before us, will
be found to have a compass somewhat large. Many topics are to come under
review, suited to improve your character and advance your respectability,
which are not made the basis of public instruction as often as their
importance demands. My wish is that you should be thoroughly equipped for
the great work of life. Religion is indeed to give shape to each distinct
theme; but it is to be religion as connected with every-day duties and
enjoyments, and affording every-day strength and consolation. Making one's
"calling and election sure," is not the only thing required—you must "do
justly and love mercy," as well as "walk humbly with God."
Let me begin by calling your attention to some remarks on
the season of youth, considered in its bearing upon the whole after-life.
1. At no subsequent time are such valuable acquisitions
made. Now it is, that the affections are most ardent, the heart most
susceptible, the memory most retentive, and all the mental, moral, and
physical faculties most susceptible of improvement. Everything leaves its
impress on the young—the faces they look at, the voices they hear, the
places they visit, the company they keep, and the books they read. It is
impossible to over-estimate the importance, for this world and the next,
which attaches to a few of the earlier years of one's existence. The first
quarter of life is worth more, as a period of acquisition, than all the
rest.
Consider what attainments are made by a child within
twenty or thirty months from its birth. Even while a helpless infant, it
learns to read inward feelings as expressed in the changes which the
countenance assumes, and can readily distinguish between a smile and a
frown. Approach it with caresses, and its eyes sparkle and its features
brighten. Put on a forbidding aspect, use angry words, and its bosom heaves,
its tears fall. This is the time for the feeble one to become acquainted
with the difficult art of poising itself, and standing erect. Before it has
reached a fourth of its size, its step is often as regular as if it
understood all the laws of gravitation, and its motions as graceful as if it
had been trained by the most skillful hand. And stranger still, during this
very period the weak and apparently inattentive creature masters a new
language! That which adults never acquire without long and patient
study, a child gains without Grammar or Dictionary, and with scarcely a
single painful exertion.
Deem not such thoughts as these to be trivial and
unimportant. You will not judge so, be assured, if you ever live to become
parents yourselves, and are permitted to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of
marking how a little son or daughter looks up and tries to read your heart
in your face, or of noticing the first efforts which a sweet child makes to
walk alone, or of hearing the busy prattler utter words until they become
easy, and join syllables until they become intelligible.
But I have higher reasons than all these, for thus
pausing at the threshold of human existence, and fixing your attention on
the future man in his earliest days. Much may be learned of the fathomless
purposes of the Divine mind, and the unraveled mysteries of Providence, in
such a sight as this. That child just beginning to fix its gaze upon its
father's features, to make trial of the strength of its own limbs, and to
lisp the name of mother, may have a destiny more glorious than yonder sun
shining in his strength. What we as yet behold is only the first bursting of
the bud, that the flower may emit its fragrance and disclose its tints. The
putting forth of such efforts by one so frail and tender, is but breaking
the shell, so that the living thing within may find its exit, and open its
wings, and plume its feathers, and prepare for its lofty flight. Now,
another immortal being is started on its marvelous and hitherto unwritten
course. A commencement is made, and it is such a commencement as foretells a
rapid and glorious progress.
Premature development, mental or physical, is not
desirable. Plants that are so forced in their growth as to come forward
before their proper time, seldom have much strength of stem, width of leaf,
or richness of odor. That which grows up in a night, not infrequently
perishes in a night. But without undue pressure, and under the influence of
the mildest and gentlest methods, surprising advances will often be made.
These are the incipient efforts, and they prepare the way
for subsequent and longer steps.
Few things are more interesting than to consider what an
amount of valuable knowledge—knowledge of God and man, of time and eternity,
of earth and heaven—may be gained in the first twelve or fifteen years of
one's life. During this period the science of numbers and distances, opening
the door to mathematics, geography and astronomy, may be fairly entered upon
and its grand principles mastered. Nature, too, begins now to unlock her
mysterious treasure-house, and the mere stripling of a student often finds
himself able to comprehend the operation of a thousand of those laws on
which life and happiness depend. Especially is this the season to have the
mind stored with the great events, which fill for us the pages of ancient
and modern history. Acquisitions which cannot be gotten for gold, and for
the price of which silver cannot be weighed, may be made, and often are
made, while one is still young and tender.
Permit me to remark here, that this is especially the
period of life for adding to the compass and retentiveness of the memory. To
reason logically and arrive at wise and safe results, requires a sound
judgment; and such a judgment is usually the fruit of deep experience, and
large opportunities of comparing one thing with another. But to collect the
materials with which a riper understanding can work out its conclusions, is
the special province of youth. Every one who expects to make his mark high
in the world, should begin early to form a collection of valuable facts, and
not a day should pass without adding to their number.
This, let me add for your encouragement, is a work in
which you may make a degree of progress that will surprise yourselves. It is
not necessary that a young man, in order to become intelligent and
well-informed, should enjoy the instructions of erudite professors, and have
access to universities and richly endowed colleges. Many a man has contrived
to engrave his name very legibly in the Temple of Fame, with fewer
opportunities for improvement than often in our day fall to the lot of the
humblest laborer. But this is a thought which, though deeply interesting, I
cannot pursue at present. It is sufficient here to say, that no youth, who
feels the workings of a single noble aspiration, need be disheartened at any
apparent difficulties that lie in his path. The highest idea of education is
the training of the mind to surmount obstacles.
Volume upon volume, bringing the richest secrets of art
and science within your reach, lie open before you; a very few shillings,
easily saved from not going to the bar-room or the saloon, will put you in
possession of a fund of information, to which many of your parents and older
friends had no early access. Above all, the book of God is on your table,
and in it you are sure to meet with the truest history, the best prudential
maxims, and the purest devotion. Only use well your advantages, and you may
make acquisitions in comparison with which houses and lands are as nothing.
2. Youth is the season in which impressions prove most
abiding. It is the time for keeping as well as getting, for remembering
as well as learning, for retaining as well as acquiring. To bring truth into
contact with the mind of an open, ingenuous youth, is like applying a seal
to the newly melted wax, so that you are sure of getting not only a correct,
but a permanent likeness. The lines are drawn deeply on the tender heart,
and no waves of subsequent business or care can entirely obliterate them.
Years may pass away, and the head blossom for the grave, and the eye grow
dim, and the hand tremble; but the scenes of early life reappear with the
freshness of yesterday.
Youth and old age, in more senses than one, seem to be
closely connected. If you visit a man who, like a venerable oak, stands
while every tree around it has fallen, you will find that his mind, though
almost a perfect blank as to recent transactions and events, is alive to
those of childhood and youth. This is a deeply interesting fact, and it
deserves to be well and carefully pondered by such as are laying up a store
for time to come. Forget what else he may, the patriarch of many days is not
likely to forget the tree under which he played, the brook by which he
strolled, or the hill which he climbed when a boy. Half of both his waking
and sleeping hours are employed in living that sunny and halcyon period of
his life over again. Two thirds of a century may have gone, never to return,
but still his thoughts linger around the paternal fireside, the bed in which
he slept, and the room where he joined in his mother's prayers. Let me ask
those advanced in life, if this be not so. You remember the very form of
groves long since cut down, of books long since read, of classmates long
since gone, and of ministers long since in the grave. It is of your memory
of the occurrences of last week and yesterday that you complain, and not of
your memory of events a generation ago. These are all vivid and fresh.
Whatever may be said of the latter stages of life, its
commencement will leave traces never to be worn out. The intellect is
now taking a shape, and the affections receiving a texture, and the
individual acts turning into habits, which, if somewhat modified by
after-scenes and impressions, are seldom very essentially changed. This is
the point from which men start, and it generally determines their whole
future course. Here the path is entered upon, which leads to virtue or vice,
honor or infamy, heaven or hell. Let the mother of John Newton take her
little son to her closet for prayer, let Doddridge be taught Scripture
history when a child, by the pictures on the chimney-tiles, and let
Buchanan, when a boy, wander into a church where Jesus is preached—and the
effects remain. All the agents in these tender transactions—parents,
friends, ministers—may be sleeping in the grave, but their work endures.
What a precious fact is this, and how full of
encouragement! Give me the successful shaping of a child's character in all
its earlier stages, until eighteen or twenty years are gone by, and I shall
never, under God, despair of him afterwards. Go astray he may, be forgetful
he may, become wayward he may, for a time; but by and by the arm of Divine
mercy will be extended, and the stream which had sunk in the sand will rise
again to the surface, more limpid and life-imparting than ever. The
disappointment in such cases, we have every reason to conclude, will be but
partial and temporary.
I grant that radical changes of character do occasionally
occur, after the most promising part of life is gone. We sometimes see
females, who, during the whole of their earlier years, seemed to be given to
vanity and frivolity, becoming patterns of everything excellent and of good
report, when translated into a new sphere and invested with new
responsibilities. So, too, we now and then find a wicked, dissolute young
man, who like Cecil or Gardiner, lives to repent of his folly, and leads a
new life. Such reformations, blessed be God, are not altogether strange in
the history of the world and the Church; and when they do occur, we are to
regard them as illustrious instances of the power of Divine grace.
Nor do we hesitate to admit, that here and there a child,
who once gave promise of better things, is left to make shipwreck of faith
and a good conscience. But I am speaking of what is common, and what we have
a right in ordinary circumstances to expect; for the grace of God, though
mysterious in its nature and sovereign in its operations, was not intended
to supersede the influence of motives, or counteract the ordinary laws of
the human mind.
Depend upon it, beloved youth, the impressions of early
life will remain. Only fill your minds at this tender period, with images of
truth, purity and goodness, and they will stay there to enliven the solitude
and brighten the anticipations of your latest years. But habituate your
thoughts to scenes of vice and deeds of infamy, and the taint will stick by
you like a leprosy, until death comes. Oh, could you look at this subject as
those look at it who have traveled the path, we should oftener hear you cry,
"My Father, be the guide of my youth!"
Examine this subject—the permanency of early
impressions—I entreat you, in the light of testimony and observation. Have
you ever known a good mechanic, who did not gain the elements of success in
his youth; a kind, considerate master who did not serve a virtuous
apprenticeship; an eminent lawyer, physician, or pastor, who was not a
diligent student? This is true of those qualities which come into play in
active, business life; and it is still more true of the quiet and passive
virtues. I question whether you have ever heard of a placid, serene,
tranquil and contented old man happy in God and in fulfilling the various
responsibilities of life, who was noted in his youth for noise,
recklessness, impatience, or lack of self-control. This is a kind of
wild-oats, which, if sown at all, is sure to produce a crop. "Can the
Ethiopian change his skin or the leopard its spots? Neither can you do good
who are accustomed to doing evil." Jeremiah 13:23
Could my voice reach every young man and woman in the
land, I would warn them not to yield their hearts to injurious impressions.
Little, ah little, do they think, while listening to some slur on the
profession of piety, or opening their ears to some sly objection to the
truth of the Bible, or poring over the pages of some novel filled with tales
of lust and blood—what havoc all this is making with the peace of their own
minds, or how it is adapted to cut up by the very roots those principles of
virtue which enter essentially into the formation of a good character. This
is like poison, taken into the physical system, and will be sure, sooner or
later, to reveal its bitter results. The mark is made, not on the sand, but
on enduring rock.
3. Associations are now formed, which go far to mold the
whole after-life. Man is so made for friendship and for social
communion, that his joys have a double relish, and his sorrows lose half
their weight, when shared by others. Even a child cannot bear to keep either
his pleasures or his pains to himself. There is, from the first, a felt
necessity for the affections to go out and fasten upon some external object.
This is the reason why most men are so much the creatures of circumstances,
and why the weaving of early ties so powerfully controls every subsequent
step. The first things not infrequently deter mine the last.
Look at men of eminence in the world, and you will
generally find that much of the foundation of that eminence was laid in the
associations of early life. Joseph, David, and Daniel are examples in sacred
volume, not only of providential leadings and indications, but of voluntary
choice and preferences having an influence, in preparing them for the lofty
position which they eventually reached. Luther was only twenty-nine years
old, when he gave the Papal Hierarchy his first deadly blow; and Calvin but
twenty-five, when he wrote the immortal Institutes. Bonaparte was a mere
stripling when he accomplished his glorious campaign in Italy; and the dew
of youth was still on the brow of our beloved Washington, when he
distinguished himself on the day of Braddock's defeat. Who can say how much
of all that these men accomplished, depended, under God, on the course
adopted at the commencement of life?
No wonder that good men feel such an interest in the
associations which their young friends form. They see that the company which
you now keep, the principles you now adopt, and the habits you now form, are
likely to settle the question of the future with a certainty which is
well-near infallible. Full well do they know, that in the minds, and
manners, and character of the young, we have an index to the state of
society, for many years to come. Give us a favorable spring, that the
precious seed may be safely sown, and we shall the more confidently
anticipate a fruitful summer, an abundant autumn, and a plentiful winter.
The connection is so close between the present and the future, that every
step taken now will show itself in outcomes and results, for years to come.
An unfortunate relationship may wed a man to misery of the most poignant
kind, until his dying day; and a happy one may shed a sweet and reviving
light all along his pathway, until it opens into glory. It would be true,
had the Bible never asserted it—that "whatever a man sows, that shall he
also reap."
I am but asserting what all know to be a fact, when I say
that the hearts of the young are full of high anticipations. After the sun
has passed the meridian, there are few who have the resolution to embark in
new enterprises, and who feel like trying to accommodate themselves to new
circumstances. Old people cry out, like Barzillai, "Can I hear any more the
voice of singing men or singing women? Let your servant, I pray you, turn
back again, that I may die in my own city, and be buried by the grave of my
father and of my mother." Very proper is this feeling for the aged; but it
ought not to be thus with those who feel the life-blood coursing warm and
rapid through their veins. God forbid that they should pause and stand
still, as men who would gladly take off the armor.
No, beloved youth, you could not be inactive, if you
would; and you would not if you could. Your hearts throb with impulses,
which, like an eagle beating against the bars of its cage, must express
themselves in plans and purposes and high resolves, or turn back upon their
fountain to make it stagnant and corrupt. Can the full-fed war-horse be
restrained from chomping the bit and pawing the earth, without breaking his
very nature? We blame you not, ardent and aspiring youth, for being all
alive to those stirring inmovings, which are a part of that mental and moral
constitution conferred upon you by your Maker. Go on, we rather say, with
firm and earnest steps in the path to which God and duty call you. But while
we thus give you large liberty and a clear field, deem it not unkind in us,
if we feel constrained to whisper words of caution in your ears.
Only apply the principles of Solomon's Proverbs, of
Christ's Sermon on the mount, and of Paul's epistles, to every movement you
make, and we have no fear for the consequences. Let all the associations you
form in business operations, in companionship for leisure hours, and in
alliances for life, be begun, continued, and ended with God, and you may
calculate upon their bringing a blessing along with them. This will realize
the fulfillment of the prayer—"May our sons flourish in their youth like
well-nurtured plants. May our daughters be like graceful pillars, carved to
beautify a palace." Psalm 144:12.
But discard these counsels of heavenly wisdom, and give
yourselves over to a friendship with the irreligious, the impure and the
skeptical, and you fix thorns in your pillow never to be extracted. We all
know who has said, "He who walks with wise men shall be wise, but a
companion of fools shall be destroyed."
I look forward a few years, and find children become
youth, and youth men and women in active life. The seeds sown in infancy by
some fond mother have swelled and grown, and become trees of righteousness,
and the lessons given by a kind father are yielding their appropriate fruit.
One comes out and joins himself to the industrious, the prudent and the
pious; while another associates with the indolent, the dissipated and the
profane. From this point you may trace their destiny for two worlds. Let me
see how youth assort themselves in the school, the workshop and the college,
and I need no prophet's vision to predict what they will be and what they
will do when they become men. Viciously inclined as a young man may be, a
virtuous companionship is often the means of his salvation. Virtuously
disposed as he may be, an ungodly friendship may work his ruin.
Reflect, then, my young friend, seriously and
prayerfully, on the importance of the season through which you are now
passing. Little do you think how deep an interest is felt for your welfare.
There is the man that begat you, and the woman that bore you, each crying
out, "My son, if your heart shall be wise, my heart shall rejoice, even
mine." Kind friends draw near and ask for blessings on your heads, which
shall reach to the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills. Your minister
prays that you may become his joy and the crown of his rejoicing in the day
of the Lord Jesus. Above all, God himself looks down, and blending his
claims with your highest welfare, speaks out, "My son, give me your heart."
Oh, shall all this interest be felt for you, in heaven and on earth, in
vain! Will you not at this early hour on the dial of human life, realize the
grandeur and glory of the destiny that awaits you!
Be faithful to yourselves, to your fellow-men, and to God
for ten, fifteen, or twenty years, and I almost dare promise you a useful
life, a happy death, and a blissful immortality!