No. XXII. REPENTANCE
We are often sorry when we do wrong; this is the first step towards Repentance; but Repentance itself is more than being sorry; it is ceasing to do wrong, and beginning to do right.
Man differs from the most intelligent of the lower animals in having a moral nature, called a soul; that is, he is responsible for his actions. One great evidence of this is to be found in the fact that, after he has done evil, his conscience generally reproaches him sharply, and he feels remorse, which is the keen pain brought about by the memory of wrongdoing. But we must not mistake this pain of remorse for Repentance. It should be the beginning of Repentance; but Repentance itself must go much further than that.
Two men with evil-looking faces were seen to enter a great church in Rome one day, where, in little chapels attached to the church, people were making confession of their sins to the priests, and obtaining absolution from them. These two men looked as though something very serious was weighing on their minds, as they searched for a priest to whom to confess. A short time after they had found one, they were again seen, coming down the aisle of the church, laughing together, and looking as jolly as possible. Next day they were arrested for attacking a traveller on the highway and almost murdering him. Probably those two men felt the pangs of remorse when they were in the church seeking to confess their sins. But there was no Repentance, because they went back at once to their evil courses.
A sick man was said by his doctor to be dying. His clergyman came to see him, and begged him to be reconciled to a neighbour with whom he had had a serious quarrel. At last he consented, and when the neighbour was brought to his bedside they had a short, friendly conversation, and shook hands. But as the neighbour was leaving the room, the sick man called out: "But you must remember this stands for nothing if I get better again." There was no real Repentance in the sick man's heart.
A man who had been living a very careless and sinful life went to hear a great man preach. The sermon had such an effect upon him that his conscience became very uneasy, and he felt keen remorse for the evil of his life, and determined to stop it all and begin again in a different way. He first went to see a neighbour who scoffed at religious things, and who, the moment he went in, began to ask him about the great preacher, and to make fun of him for paying much attention to what was "absurd, and all a lie." The man replied: "Never mind the preacher just now; I want to tell you about a very serious matter. Four years ago you lost two fine sheep out of your flock, and though you searched everywhere you could not find them. Those sheep came into my pasture field, and I caught them, and marked my brand on top of yours, and so they were not discovered. But I have now come to tell you of the matter, and to put myself in your hands. You can, if you like, have me arrested, or I will pay you whatever you ask." The neighbour was astonished, but at last said he would take the value of the sheep, with interest on the money from the time they were stolen. The man paid this down, and then doubled the amount. After he had gone his neighbour began to think that the sort of religion which made a man confess a sin long past, and which no one could ever find out, must have some reality about it, and he scoffed no more. That is a case of genuine Repentance.
Happy is the man who repents while there is yet the opportunity to undo, to some extent, the evil he has done. Some men repent when it is too late to undo the mischief. Henry II., King of England, rode from London to Canterbury in the night, and when he came to the gates he dismounted, and walked barefooted to the shrine of the martyr. He there made public confession of his sin, and was scourged with a knotted cord before the people, though he was then king. Imagine the Emperor of Germany being publicly scourged! Though Henry repented, he could not bring Becket back to life again. Henry Ward Beecher told the story of a young man who came to Indianapolis, when Mr. Beecher was minister there, on his way to settle in the west. While there he was robbed in a gambling saloon of fifteen hundred dollars, all that he had. It led to his suicide. "I know the man who committed the foul deed; he used to walk up and down the street. Now, suppose this man should repent? Can he ever call back that suicide? Can he ever wipe off the taint and disgrace that he has brought on the escutcheon of that young man's family?"
Everybody has need of practising Repentance, because no one can live a perfect life. Goldsmith said: "Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." If we rise again every time we fall, there is but little danger that we ever fall so low that we cannot rise at all, or of doing that which we cannot, to some extent, put right.
"Confess yourself to Heaven;
Repent what's past, avoid what is to come."
It is unwise to put off Repentance. It should be done now. The opportunity may slip away from us altogether. As a wise man once said: "I know that a man, going—swept down that great Niagara—if his little skiff be driven near to one shore, he can make one great bound and reach the solid ground—I know he may be saved from destruction: but it is an awful risk to run."
We can best learn the value of Repentance by practising it in little things. If a boy is guilty of rudeness to any one, and especially to a lady, he should go at once and, in a manly way, acknowledge it. The fact that he has begged her pardon will keep him from committing the same offence again. If we practise Repentance in the small matters of daily life, it will be easier for us to practise it in things of great and serious moment.