The
Christian Father's Present to His Children
by John Angell James, 1825
PUBLIC SPIRIT
You are born, my dear children, in no common age of the
world. You have entered upon the theater of existence, when some of the most
interesting scenes of the great drama are being presented. There are eras,
when the moral world seems to stand still, or to retrograde; and there are
others, when it is propelled with accelerated movements towards the goal.
Ours is of the latter kind. After the dark and stormy epoch, which was
terminated by the glorious revolution of 1688, the churches of Christ,
blessed with religious liberty, sunk to inglorious repose. Little was done,
either to improve the moral condition of our own population at home, or the
state of heathen countries abroad. Whitfield and Wesley broke in upon this
slumber, when it seemed to be most profound. From that time, the spirit of
religious zeal awoke, and increasing its energies, and multiplying its
resources until our days, it now exhibits a glorious array of means and
instruments, from which in the long run, may be expected the conversion of
the world.
Christendom presents at this moment a sublime and
interesting spectacle in its Bible Societies, Missionary Societies, Tract
Societies, with all the other institutions adapted to the moral needs of
every class and condition of mankind. War is not only declared—but
prosecuted with vigor, against the powers of darkness; the armies of the
Lord are marching forth to the field of conflict; the sound of the trumpet
is heard, and the call of warriors floats on the gale. Spiritual patriotism
is breathed into the souls of all denominations of Christians. Instruments
of the holy warfare are invented and distributed, which suit the hands of
people of every rank, condition, stature, and strength; while females are
invited to emulate the Spartan women of antiquity, and to assist in this
conflict by the side of their fathers, husbands, and brothers.
All young people ought to enlist themselves in this
cause. They should rise up into life, determined to do all the good they
can, and to leave the world better than they found it. To see them
reluctant to come forward, is an indelible disgrace to them. It is a poor,
miserable kind of life to live only for ourselves; it is, in fact—but half
living. It is an opposition both to reason and Scripture. He who does
nothing to bless others, starves his own soul. You must therefore set out in
life, my children, with a resolution, by God's help, to act the part of a
religious philanthropist. "He who converts a sinner from the error of his
ways, shall save a soul from death, and hide a multitude of sins." Aspire to
this honor. Think how many things you can already do. You can instruct a
class of ignorant children in a Sunday School. You can distribute religious
tracts. You can join in the labors of Bible associations, or in the
exertions of missionary societies to youth.
It is to the great dishonor of many young people in
affluent circumstances, that they are retiring from our Sunday schools, and
leaving the work to those who are in humbler life. Well, we must do without
them—but let them remember that for their indolence, or pride, or whatever
else be the cause of their secession, they must give an account at the bar
of Christ.
Here, however, I must suggest a caution or two. Females
who are employed in the labor of collecting gratuitous contributions to
public societies of any kind, should be very watchful against the least
infringement on that delicacy and modesty of character which is the chief
ornament of their sex. Their exertions, I know, are the life's blood of some
causes; be it so—but let their benevolence flow like the vital fluid through
the veins—unseen, unheard. I believe that in general the strictest rules of
modesty have been observed by the female collectors of our Missionary
Societies—but I have heard of instances very much to the contrary. Happily,
such cases are rare. I think it quite questionable whether very young
females, whose characters are scarcely formed, should be thus employed.
It would be a source of mischief and regret, if the
present mode of employing females in collecting for public institutions
should abate one jot of that retiredness of disposition, and love of home,
which are so essential to the beauty and excellence of their character. A
gossiping, unsettled, roving temper, that can be better pleased with
wandering round the town from door to door, than performing the duties which
fall to the lot of a grown-up daughter at home, is no present ornament, and
affords but a forlorn hope of future worth. I confess I look with some
degree of jealousy upon the efforts of female zeal, for if public spirit is
to be maintained at the expense of private usefulness, the world will be no
great gainer in the end. Exertions for the public should be regarded not as
a substitute for—but a recreation from, the more stated duties of home.
It is more necessary still, perhaps, to caution young men
against acquiring, by their activity—a bold, forward, obtrusive, and
dictatorial temper. If zeal should render them conceited, vain, and
meddling, it would be a heavy deduction from its clear amount of usefulness.
There is some little danger lest Satan, perceiving it to be impossible to
repress the ardor of youth, should attempt to corrupt it.
Observing these cautions, you cannot be too ardent in the
cause of true religion, and the interests of the human race. Those who are
likely to occupy the middling classes of society, who are the sons and
daughters of people in comparatively affluent circumstances, and are likely,
by the blessing of God, to occupy the same rank themselves, should feel most
specially bound to consecrate their energies to the public welfare, inasmuch
as they possess far more means of usefulness than others, and are likely to
have greater influence in society.
But even the poorest can do something. There is no one
who is destitute of all the means of doing good. In France, during the reign
of the late emperor, the conscription law extended to people of all ranks in
society; and in the same regiment, the sons of the rich and of the poor
contended, side by side, for the glory of their country—nor did the former
think themselves degraded by such an association; they felt that to fight
under the imperial and victorious eagle, was an honor sufficient to
annihilate every other consideration. How much more justly will this apply
to people who are marshaled under the banner of the cross!
It is of the utmost importance that young people should
begin life with a considerable portion of public spirit in their character;
since it is rarely found that this virtue, if planted late, attains to any
considerable magnitude, beauty, or fruitfulness. The seeds of benevolence
should be sown, together with those of piety, in the first spring of our
youth; then may we expect a rich autumnal crop. The first lesson which a
child should learn from his parents is, how to be blessed; and the second,
how to be a blessing.
You have been taught this, my children, from the very
dawn of reason—now then practice it. Live for some purpose in the world. Act
your part well. Fill up the measure of your duty to others. Conduct
yourselves so that you shall be missed with sorrow when you are gone.
Multitudes of our species are living in such a selfish manner, that they are
not likely to be remembered a moment after their disappearance. They leave
behind them scarcely any traces of their existence—but are forgotten almost
as though they had never been. They are, while they live, like one pebble
lying unobserved among millions on the shore; and when they die, they are
like that same pebble thrown into the sea, which just ruffles the surface,
sinks, and is forgotten, without being missed from the beach. They are
neither regretted by the rich, wanted by the poor, nor celebrated by the
learned. Who have been the better for their life? Who are the worse for
their death? Whose tears have they dried up, whose needs supplied, whose
miseries have they healed? Who would unbar the gate of life, to re-admit
them to existence; or what face would greet them back again to our world
with a smile? Wretched, unproductive mode of existence! Selfishness is its
own curse—it is a starving vice. The man that does no good, gets none. He is
like the heath in the desert, neither yielding fruit, nor seeing when good
comes; a stunted, dwarfish, miserable shrub.
We are sent into the world to do good ;
and to be destitute of public spirit, is to forget one half of our errand
upon earth. Think what opportunity there is for the increase and operations
of this noble disposition. We are in a world which abounds with evil. There
are six hundred million immortal souls, yet enslaved in their minds by the
chains of Pagan superstition or Mohammedan delusion—without God, and without
hope in the world; there are one hundred and twenty million following the
Papal Beast, and bearing his image; there are nine million Jews—wandering as
vagabonds over the face of the whole earth, with the thick veil of unbelief
upon their hearts. In our own country, many towns and villages are yet
unblessed with the faithful preaching of the gospel; multitudes of adults
are still without Bibles to read, and myriads of uneducated children; and
ignorance of the grossest kind, vice of the most abominable forms, are to be
found in every street.
And then, as to express misery, what aboundings are to be
seen in every collection of human abodes; where can we go and not hear the
groans of creation ascending round us, and not see the tears of sorrow
flowing in our path? Poverty meets us with its heart-breaking tale of want
and woe; disease in a thousand shapes appeals to our compassion; widows,
orphans, destitute old men, and fatherless babes, with numbers ready to
perish—are almost everywhere to be seen. Shall we live in the center of so
much sin, ignorance, and wretchedness, and not feel it our duty to do good?
What a wretch must he be, who, in such a world, is destitute of public
spirit! For all that selfishness ever hoarded, may you, my children, never
be cursed with an unfeeling heart. Here is something for all to do, and all
should do what they can.
Consider the
FELICITY of doing good. Public spirit is
a perennial source of happiness in a man's own bosom. The miser is rightly
named; the word signifies 'miserable'—and miserable he is. Benevolence is
happiness. Its very tears are more to be desired than the most exulting
smiles which avarice ever bestowed upon its accumulating treasures. Who does
not covet that exquisite delight which Job must have experienced in the days
of his prosperity, and of which he thus speaks—"All who heard of me praised
me. All who saw me spoke well of me. For I helped the poor in their need and
the orphans who had no one to help them. I helped those who had lost hope,
and they blessed me. And I caused the widows' hearts to sing for joy. All I
did was just and honest. Righteousness covered me like a robe, and I wore
justice like a turban. I served as eyes for the blind and feet for the lame.
I was a father to the poor and made sure that even strangers received a fair
trial." Job 29:11-16. O tell me, what are all the pleasures of sense or
appetite, all the mirthful festivities of worldly amusements, when compared
with this? To do good, is to be like God in operation and bliss; for he is
the blessed God, because he is the merciful God.
Public spirit is most
HONORABLE.
Even the heathen accounted a benefactor a most honorable character. Never
does humanity appear adorned with so bright a crown of glory, as when
distinguished benevolence, united with humble piety, enters into the
character. When a young lady, instead of frittering away her time in
frivolous pursuits, parties of pleasure, personal decorations, or scenes of
vanity, employs her hours in visiting the cottages of the poor, alleviating
the sorrows of the wretched, reading Scripture to the sick, how like an
angel does she appear; and one can almost imagine that she is watched with
exalted delight, on her visits of mercy, by the heavenly messengers who
minister to the heirs of salvation, and who hail her as a co-worker in their
embassies of love.
What is the most celebrated beauty that ever became the
center of attraction, the object of voluptuous gaze, the subject of general
envy to one sex, and of admiration to the other; when, amid the blaze of
diamonds, and the perfumery of the East, she displayed her charms in the
ball-room—compared with that modest and unostentatious young woman, who, in
her woolen cloak and miry shoes, is seen on a cold wintry day at the sick
bed of the poor expiring mother, first reviving the sinking frame of the
sufferer with the cordials she has prepared with her own hands, then
dispensing bread to the clamorous hungry babes, then comforting the agitated
mind of the departing wife with the consolations of true religion, and, last
of all, soothing the troubled bosom of the distressed husband with the
prospect of a country, where there shall be no more death!
Or what is the man of polished manners, affable address,
sparkling wit, and endless anecdote, whose society is courted, and who is
the life of every company into which he enters; who everywhere receives the
incense of praise, and the worship of admiration; I say, what is this man,
in real grandeur, utility, and moral beauty of character—compared with the
unassuming youth, who though well educated and extensively read, and with a
mind that could luxuriate in all the pleasures of literary pursuits, devotes
a large portion of his time to the exercises of benevolence—who on a sabbath
journeys to some neighboring village on foot, sustaining the storms of
winter, and the sultry heats of summer, to teach a school of ignorant
children, bound to him by no tie but that of our common nature, to read the
word of God—who is often seen in the retired streets and alleys of his own
town, checking the torrents of wickedness by the distribution of tracts, or
the circulation of the Bible—who, when fatigued with business, would gladly
seek the repose of home, or else, thirsting for knowledge, would gladly
converse with books—yet instead of this, devotes his evening hours to assist
in managing the business of Christian institutions!
Need I ask which of these two is the most honorable
character? They admit of no comparison. The wreath of literary fame, the
laurel of the warrior, the tribute of praise offered to superior wit—are
empty and worthless compared with the pure bright crown of the Christian
philanthropist. There is a time coming when the former shall be of no value
in the eyes of their professors, or the world—but the distinctions of
superior beneficence belong to an order which shall be acknowledged in
heaven, and shall be worn with unfading brilliancy through eternity!
I exhort, therefore, my children, that you do all the
good you can, both to the souls and bodies of your fellow-creatures—for this
end, as I have already said, you were born into the world, and society has
claims upon your attention, which you cannot neglect without disregarding
the authority of God. Give your property for this purpose. Begin life with a
conviction that every one ought to devote a fair portion of his worldly
substance for the benefit of others. No man ought to set apart a less
proportion of his income for the good of the public than a tenth. Whatever
estate yours may be, whether great or small, consider that it comes to you
with a reserved claim of one-tenth for the public. Consider yourself as
having a right to only nine-tenths. Pay tithes of all you possess to the
cause of God and man. Be frugal in your personal expenditure—that you may
have the more to do good with. Waste not that upon unnecessary luxuries of
dress or living—which thousands and millions need for necessities and
religious instruction. The noblest transformation of property is not into
personal jewels, or splendid household furniture, or costly equipages—but
into clothing for the naked, food for the hungry, medicine for the sick,
knowledge for the ignorant, holiness for the wicked, salvation for the lost!
Give your
INFLUENCE, whatever it be, to the cause of
the public. We all have a circle of influence, and it is more extensive than
we imagine. We are all, and always, doing good or harm. Two people never
meet, however short the duration, or whatever be the cause of the meeting,
without exerting some influence upon each other. An important transaction, a
casual hint, a studied address, each and all may become the means of
controlling the mind of those with whom we have to do. Let your influence be
all thrown into the scale of the public good. Do your own duty, and endeavor
to rouse others to do theirs.
Let your exertions in the public cause be the result of
deliberate purpose, not of mere accident. Set yourselves to do good. Pursue
a system, and act not from caprice. Let not your zeal be a blaze at one
time, and a mere spark at another. Study your situation, circumstances,
talents—and let your benevolence flow through that channel which Providence
has more especially opened before you. All are not fitted for, nor are they
called to, the same work. In the division of the labor of mercy, occupy that
station, and be content with that work, to which you are obviously destined.
Avoid the disposition which will be first in the front rank, or nowhere.
This is selfishness, not benevolence. Be anxious to do good, though,
like the ministering angels, your agency should never be seen—but only felt.
Do not be discouraged by difficulty, nor disheartened by
ingratitude; seek your reward in the approbation of conscience, and the
smile of God—not in the acknowledgments of men. Persevere to the end
of life; and be not weary in well doing. Be diligent, for the world
is dying around you, and you are dying with it. You are young—but you are
mortal. Your time of working may be short, and therefore strive to do much
in a little time; for a man's life is to be measured not so much by the
years that he lives, as by the work he does. You may die—but if you do good,
your work lives; lives and multiplies its kind on earth, and then follows
you to heaven, to live in your own remembrance, and the happiness of others
through everlasting ages.
"As therefore we have opportunity, let us do good unto
all men, especially unto those who are of the household of faith. And let us
not be weary in well doing, for in due season we shall reap if we faint
not."
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