Advice to Youth
by David Magie, Published by the American Tract Society
in 1855.
YOUNG MEN IN DANGER.
Not many days ago, a gentleman of one of our large cities
wrote thus to a friend—"When I first came to this place, I was a young man,
with nothing on earth in the way of property, but the small bundle which I
carried in my hand. But a kind Providence has smiled upon me, and I have
become what the world calls rich. Still, as a family—we are far from being
happy."
And what is it that is breaking the peace of that
father's bosom, and chasing away the joys of that favored fireside? Wealth
is there, spacious rooms are there, costly furniture is there, and both
intelligence and refinement are there. No more, the parents of that
household are professors of Christ's name, and are in the habit, we may
hope, of sanctifying all their enjoyments by the word of God and prayer.
Such is the confluence of good things in this case, that the cup seems to
run over. Why, then, you will naturally ask, is not that a happy dwelling?
The answer is short. Those parents have just heard of the improper conduct
of a favorite son—a son on whom they had bestowed many advantages, and of
whom they had indulged fond anticipations—and their hearts are sad within
them. All feel the blow, but it falls heaviest on the mother. "My poor
wife"—it is the language of the husband and father—"my poor wife never slept
a wink the first night after the mournful news reached us."
This is a sorrowful tale, too sorrowful to be dwelt upon
without tears, and yet where can you find any considerable group of
families, which does not furnish material for a tale equally sorrowful. No
strange thing has happened in that particular domestic circle. The sobs
which were heard under the roof are often heard elsewhere. It is affecting
to mark how much of the grief to be met with in our disordered world, has
its origin in the bad behavior of some misguided son, who refuses to hearken
to the instructions of his father, and forsakes the law of his mother. The
enemy of God and man never shoots an arrow which pierces more deeply, or
makes a sorer wound. Every sort of trouble seems conjoined here; and if you
will only dam off this single stream, you will turn away a bitter tide from
many a peaceful dwelling.
Say not, in the words of a man who imagined himself to be
better than he was, "What! is your servant a dog that he should do such a
thing?" Feel not indignant at the suggestion of a possibility, that you may
be left to pursue a course which shall fill the home of your childhood and
early days with lamentation and woe! This is being strong in your own
strength, and trusting to your own hearts. Dream not that your mountain
stands so strong that you can never be moved. Avenues leading off from the
right path open on every side, and none are more exposed than those who
think of no peril, and are impatient at such words of caution and counsel as
may be addressed to them. It is here that the maxim, "to be forewarned is to
be forearmed," has its fullest application.
1. You are in danger from YOURSELVES!
This may seem strange language, but the longer you live,
the more deeply will you be convinced of its truth. One of the most obvious
effects of the original apostasy was, to subvert man's government over his
own heart, and undermine his power of self-control. By this fatal step, he
not only broke those bonds in sunder which bound him in holy and happy
allegiance to his Maker, but he subverted all the laws of his own moral
constitution. From that moment passion obtained the ascendency over reason,
and impulse over principle. So disloyal did his feelings become to his
better judgment, that he needs now to be restored to himself, almost as much
as to his God. Both of these changes, the one scarcely less than the other,
are effected by true conversion.
Young men are necessarily inexperienced. The road
they have to travel is to them a new road. It is their lot to be encompassed
with difficulties with which they can have no previous acquaintance, and to
mingle in scenes with which they are not familiar. Everything is novel, and
because of its novelty it affects them all the more deeply—for good or evil.
Parents may tremble for their safety, and friends may be anxious lest they
should be led astray; but they are likely to feel little solicitude on their
own account. Warnings are not heeded, because they are not seen to be
applicable. Advice is not taken, because it is not felt to be appropriate.
So skillfully is the hook baited, that the first intimation of its being a
hook is found in the pricking of the barb! Some fatal step is taken before
the person suspects the presence of danger. The homely adage, "those who
know nothing—fear nothing," finds its illustration in thousands who set out
with warm hearts and high hopes.
Could you realize, at the beginning of your journey, that
you are to pass through an enemy's country, where foes lurk behind every
bush and conceal themselves under the corner of every jutting rock, you
would be on your guard. It could hardly fail to make you watchful, to be
assured that a snare was concealed on one side of your path, and a pit on
the other. Any proper appreciation of your danger would send you to the
mercy-seat with an importunity that would take no denial, and clothe your
sense of peril in the prayer, "My Father, be the guide of my youth." But
thousands learn too late, that "strait is the gate and narrow is the way
which leads unto life."
I cannot but fear for inexperienced youth, sent abroad
into a world all inviting in its promises—but all deceitful in delivering
those promises. Could they know beforehand what perils beset the way, how
they must encounter a enchanting song at one corner, and a deceiving peril
at another, with what false hopes they will be assailed today, and with what
discouragements tomorrow; we would not see them bounding forth with such
wild and heedless alacrity. A fraction of the real danger, anticipated at
the beginning, could not fail to impart a degree of sobriety to the most
careless.
Not a few young men are so yielding in their temperament,
as to be in perpetual danger. Having no fixed principles, it is hard for
them to resist temptation, come from what quarter and in what form it may.
So long as a father's eye is upon them, or a mother's voice is sounding in
their ears, there is something to hold them up. But let them be separated
from all such influences and associations, and be brought into a condition,
when, under God, they can be steadfast only as the result of inward
rectitude and self-sustaining power, and they feel at once that their bark
has not sufficient ballast for so rough a sea. Like Reuben, they are
"unstable as water;" and no wonder if, like him, they never excel.
It is not 'obstinacy' that I recommend, or that sort of
dogged adherence to one's own opinions, which shuts the eyes upon every
opposing reason, however clear and strong. This is a very unhappy trait of
character, especially in the young. But be careful in avoiding "Scylla," not
to fall into "Charybdis." The young man who commences life with such an
irresolute heart, as not to be able to reject decidedly any proposal to do
wrong, has a source of danger in himself which will be almost sure to work
his overthrow. Yet, a rough refusal is incomparably better than a
reluctant compliance!
That kind of easy good-nature, which can never nerve
itself sufficiently to put a decided denial upon any proposal, however
injurious, is a most dangerous possession. It is no exaggeration to say,
that the history of thousands of ruined youth, the untimely graves of
thousands of broken-hearted parents, and the heavy woes of thousands of
dishonored families, all join their solemn attestations to the evils which
spring from that sort of pliant, accommodating disposition, which is unable
to pronounce the monosyllable–"No!" Such a one is led like an ox to the
slaughter, and like a fool to the correction of the stocks. If invited to
take a glass with the merry, sit down at the table of the gambler, or
profane the Sabbath with the impious, you can foretell what will be the
result. There is no inner strength to rely upon. No falling back upon
principle and duty.
Young men are often proudly self-confident. Too wise to
be taught, and too secure to need caution—it is no matter of surprise if
they speedily make shipwreck of faith and a good conscience. We are not
surprised at the mistakes they make, when we see how impatient they are of
control, and how confidently they rely upon their own wisdom and prudence.
Glad that the hour has come, which allows them more liberty than they once
enjoyed, they begin to put on an air of importance, and to act as if
nobody's judgment of men and things was so good as their own. But this, be
assured, is an unfailing prognostic of evil. Even had we never read in the
Scriptures that "pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before
a fall," we would feel assured that such a state of mind must be a bar to
everything like real respectability or permanent success.
Nobody loves pomposity and self-inflation in others. Much
as genuine modesty and unaffected humility may be at a discount, in an age
when learners think themselves better than teachers, pride and pomposity are
not the road to eminence in any line of life.
When I see a youth, no matter what his talents or
fortune, impatient of the counsels of experience, and disposed to lean to
his own understanding, I always fear for the result. One thing is certain;
before such an one is prepared for anything great and good in the world, he
has many a hard lesson to learn; and the sooner he begins to learn these
lessons the better. Previous to his being fitted for any post of trust and
respectability, he must have the stern teaching of bitter rebuffs and cruel
disappointments.
We have the highest authority for saying, "he who trusts
to his own heart is a fool." Let the young judge as they may; the sober good
sense of the world at large will join its verdict in favor of allowing the
experienced to speak, and multitude of years to teach wisdom. It will still
be considered fit and proper to pay some deference to the opinions of hoary
hairs, and not to reject the advice of old men.
Now pause for a moment, and look at the dangers to which
you are exposed, arising directly from yourselves! That moral derangement
which we call depravity, finds an occasion for its working and an outlet for
its influence, in your lack of acquaintance with the ways of the world, in
your lack of firmness to reject the approach of temptation, and your
proneness to rely unduly on your own resources. But this is not all.
2. You are in danger from the CIRCUMSTANCES in which you
are placed.
What is defective and wrong within, is aggravated by what
is bad and injurious without! It is the meeting of these two streams, the
one internal and the other external, that causes the banks to overflow, and
spreads devastation among the fairest fields and gardens of human life. As
there must be both fire and powder to produce an explosion, so the heart
must be acted upon by the world, in order that its corruptions may be
manifested. Take away either, and so far as visible result is concerned, the
other would be harmless; but let both come together, and an explosion must
ensue! Let me name a few of the perils to which you are exposed from the
circumstances which surround you.
Many young men have no kind friend at hand to take an
interest in their welfare. Nobody, from one week to another, or one
month to another, drops a word of either caution or encouragement in their
ears. If the clerk is in his place at the appointed time, and the apprentice
fulfils his allotted task, and the student masters his assigned lesson,
nothing further is inquired. From the very necessity of the case, they are
separated from the refining, soothing, and elevating influence of the
domestic circle. It is their hard lot to be separated from home, at the very
time when they most need its scenes and associations. Who is to look after
them, all buoyant and full of life as they are; to watch where they spend
their evenings, and what resources for amusement or pleasure are within
their reach?
It is enough to make one's heart bleed to see multitudes
of ardent, aspiring youth cast upon the world, with its ten thousand
allurements and snares, in a state, so far as any real affection or
friendship is concerned, of complete orphanage. Ah! what is to hold them
back from evil! How are they to be kept from the paths of the destroyer? If
God does not interpose, it would seem as if they must inevitably perish.
No one can think of the circumstances in which young men
are generally placed, without concern. During much of that pregnant
interval, which lies between the ages of fifteen and twenty-one, most of
them are so situated that they can seldom hear a father's prayer, or listen
to a mother's counsels, or witness a sister's smiles. Oh! is it any marvel
under such circumstances, if they should now and then find the way to the
theater, the saloon, or the dwelling of infamy? One faithful friend at this
juncture might save them from ruin. Were I to offer a prayer for you,
beloved youth, as you pack your trunk, and leave for the city of business or
the seat of learning, to spend five or seven years there in almost entire
separation from the joys of home, it would be to ask that, next to the
guardianship of the Watchman of Israel, you might never lack at least one
wise, kind, faithful friend, to whisper to you words of reproof or
consolation, as the case should be. This would relieve my anxieties, as
nothing else would, short of real, living, Christian principle, ruling the
heart and controlling the conduct.
But the evil is more than negative—it is positive and
obtrusive!
Ten thousands of young men are surrounded by vicious and
unprincipled associates. Besides having no one to take a real, outgoing
interest in their welfare, they are thrown of necessity into a species of
direct companionship, during the hours of toil and study—in the dining-room
and dormitory, with those who have no fear of God before their eyes. This is
a danger which they have to encounter at every onward step. Fear as they
may, contact with evil is impossible to avoid. If they walk the streets of
the city, or tread the floors of the dormitory, it is to see sights, and
hear sounds, and be subjected to influences, all of which, gradually and
imperceptibly, but surely and permanently, are drawing the 'lines of
deformity' on their hearts. This is the grand peril which alarms the pious
parent, and wakes him up to pray in the silence of the night, when he thinks
of placing a son in school, sending him to college, or locating him in one
of our towns for purposes of trade. No wonder that the father cries out,
"God bless and keep our dear son!" No wonder that the mother betakes herself
to her closet, and begs God to take care of her darling boy!
In multitudes of cases, it seems really almost a miracle
if they do escape. The heart, by itself, is inclined to evil—irrespective of
any external drawing; and if this native sinful tendency be aided, as it is
too often, by the well-planned arts of the seducer, no wonder if ruin
ensues! An unprincipled companion is often an unmitigated curse. If the
fruit do not appear very fully, at once, the seed is sown, and sooner or
later we may expect a foul harvest.
Alas! how often have I known youth, who, only a short
time before, left the paternal roof amiable in their dispositions and pure
in their morals, soon turn into ringleaders of vice, and from being
tempted—become tempters themselves! We look around with astonishment at such
downfalls, and inquire what enemy has done this! But should we search out
the matter, it would generally be found, that the dreadful evil could be
traced to the skepticism, the poisonous habits, or the licentiousness of
some pleasant, jovial companion.
Then, to add to the danger, books of a certain
kind are a fruitful source of injury to the young. Ours, we love to say, is
a reading age; and few are the parents who do not feel gratified to have
their children imbibe a fondness for this employment. But we would make a
great blunder, if we conclude that all must be well because they subscribe
for a magazine, and are often seen with a book in their hands. What tales of
crime in its worst possible form have been told, the last few years, in some
of the high places of our own land, as the known and recognized result of
pernicious reading! Again and again have both adultery and blood been traced
to this single source! As it regards the books with which the country is
fairly inundated, it may well be said, "all is not gold that glitters." If
one contains the bread of life—another is filled with deadly poison. To say
the least, there is a kind of sickly sentimentalism pervading many of the
fashionable volumes of the day, which scarcely less really unfits the reader
for the duties of earth, than for communion with heaven.
"Such reading," as Hannah More well remarks, "relaxes the
mind which needs hardening, dissolves the heart which needs fortifying,
stirs the imagination which needs quieting, irritates the passions which
need calming, and, above all, disinclines and disqualifies for active
virtues and spiritual exercises." Young men must take heed what they read,
as well as how they hear. The eye is as fruitful an inlet of evil as
the ear!
It is my deliberate opinion, that thoughtful, studious
youth are exposed to few greater perils than are to be found in books. So
fully am I convinced of this, that I would like to see a large majority of
all the publications which come in such crowds from the press, consigned to
one enormous conflagration! The ability to read and the love of reading,
like a thousand other things good in themselves, have their attendant evils.
A bad book must exert a bad influence, and the more touching it is in
incident, and the more captivating in style—the worse of necessity this
influence will be!
The heaviest censures upon such works have fallen
sometimes from the authors themselves. Goldsmith, though a very popular
novelist and writer of plays, gave this advice in respect to the education
of a nephew—"Above all things, never let him touch a novel or romance." He
had good sense and right feeling enough to keep his voluptuous lines from
his own daughters, though not enough to prevent his sending them abroad into
the world. It is affirmed too of a celebrated stage-actor, that he never
allowed his children to see the inside of a theater. There is meaning in
such opinions, coming from such men.
Such are the circumstances, my young friends, in which
you are placed, and it is idle to complain of them. The present state would
be no probation to you, if you were already so confirmed in good principles,
and so free from temptations—as to have nothing to fear either from
yourselves or the position you occupy. That is the highest virtue that
consists in overcoming the blandishments of vice. No crown is so bright
as that which the victor will wear. Instead then of unavailing regrets at
trials, arise whence they will, and come as they may, be it your
determination by the help of God to surmount them all.
Deem it not unkind that I take so much pains to apprize
you of your perils. If they exist, it is important that you should know
them. The difference between being conscious of danger, and unconscious of
it, is like that between two travelers passing over the same rough road, one
of whom has his eyes open, and the other has his eyes shut. Both may
stumble. Both may fall; but the advantage is immensely on the side of him
who looks at the obstacles which lie in his way.
Yes, you are in danger, in danger from inward corruption
and outward temptation; in danger from your own native bias to evil, and
from the traps which are set for your feet; and it is proper for me to raise
the voice of alarm. I believe in the doctrine of human depravity—I know what
the Bible says of the difficulty of leading a godly life—I have been over
the ground which you now occupy; and to me it is no marvel that ministers,
teachers, friends and parents all unite in asking for you the preserving
mercy and the sanctifying grace of God. There is reason for this solicitude.
It is not without a cause.
I do not charge it upon you as a fault, that you are
inexperienced. I do not blame you in all cases for working in the same room
with the vile, the foolish and the profane. I do not mention it as a crime
that bad books are sometimes put in your way. These things are a part of
your allotment. They are difficulties which you cannot always avoid. But
what will you do? My heart yearns over you. And I long to see you betaking
yourselves to the only sure and unfailing protection. Ask God for Christ's
sake to watch over and bless you. Seek for help in the might of his
outstretched arm!
But trying as your case may be, let me beg you to guard
against despondency. This will give you over at once into the power of the
destroyer. I would say to the student sad and downcast over his books, to
the clerk jaded and worn by his often-repeated duty, and to the apprentice
exhausted by his monotonous task—Be not disheartened. Though you have no
father's fireside to return to, when the long day's service is over, and no
kind sister to throw her arms around you and kiss away your griefs, and no
circle of sympathizing friends to whom you may tell your troubles—despair
not! A brighter morning will yet arrive. "Patient continuance in well-doing"
will lead to "glory, and honor, and eternal life." "Heart within and God
overhead," and you have nothing to fear. You will work for yourselves a way
to the esteem of the wise and good, and secure a godly name and place.
There is in God as revealed in the Gospel, in Christ as
exhibited in his own life, death and sacrifice, in the Spirit as a Comforter
and a guide, in the Bible as a light to those who sit in darkness, and in
the prospect of a blissful immortality, held out to such as endure to the
end, all the strength which you need to resist evil. Be steadfast in the
hour of trial, and you will gain at last a crown which will never fade away!