The soft, sweet summer-time had quite passed away. Bright autumn had
followed, with its glory of gorgeous leaves and piles of golden fruit.
November's fierce blast had begun to toss the leafless branches, and
Thanksgiving day was at hand.
Nearly three months had passed since our young friends had stood forth to receive the seal of their discipleship. Three months of testing time they had proved to be—months in which the true attitude of the souls of those who had then presented their bodies as a living sacrifice might become plain both to themselves and their friends.
No greater mistake can be made than for young people to suppose that the recommendation of their Sunday-school teachers, their pastor, or even their parents, is an assurance that they are really fit subjects for a confession of Christ. All these, it is true, are watching them, both in their actions and in the tempers which they thus exhibit, as those that must give an account for their souls; but only God can see the heart—only themselves can know whether they are sincere in their purpose to love and serve him.
Young girls are very easily influenced. Often they come forward in the church because a good many of their companions are coming and they do not want to be left behind; sometimes because it makes them of temporary importance; and sometimes simply because of the transient excitement, without any thought of the solemn vows they are going to assume and the new life which in the future they are to be expected to lead. And this in spite of all the instructions given and the watchful care exercised by pastor and friends. No wonder, then, that the first few months after a public profession are anxious ones to all those who have had any part in smoothing the way thereto for their young friends.
And yet, let no girl or boy be discouraged from taking a stand which is both duty and privilege by these remarks. All that God demands of those who confess Christ—or, as it is popularly incorrectly called, "make a profession of religion"—is sincerity of heart and purpose; sincere sorrow, no matter how slight, for past sin; sincere faith in the sacrifice of Christ, to atone for and forgive sin; sincere purpose of obeying God's commandments for the future, with sincere consciousness of weakness added to sincere trust in the all-sufficient strength of the Holy Ghost. Every boy or girl old enough to think is capable of this sincerity; and thus every one is bound to obey the express command of his Saviour and confess him before men.
But, of course, if the confession be not sincere, in a very short time, when the novelty and excitement have worn away, the interest in sacred things will wear away also, and very soon something will be said or done that will be a dreadful disgrace to the confession thus carelessly or wickedly made.
Still another mistake is often made by young people, and this is one calculated to do great mischief, as it is often made by those who are sincerely desirous of serving God. For weeks preceding the open step they have devoted a great deal of time to meetings, prayer, and Bible-reading, and their interest in these things has almost put secular ones out of their heads. But when that long-anticipated day is over, they feel somehow that the end is reached, instead of looking on this end as only the first step in a newer and better life. Other duties and interests resume their relative importance. There are not so many meetings to go to, Bible-reading becomes more hurried, prayers are less fervent, and all at once the young communicant falls into some open sin and is filled with grief and remorse.
Oh, if every boy and girl, every man and woman, who has been brought into outward and inward communion with Christ, would only realize that he or she is to go onward, never ceasing to pray and strive against evil; ever pressing on for more and more of the Holy Spirit; striving each day to be more and more like Christ,—then would be realized what is meant by the words of the wise king: "The path of the just is as the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day."
"Don't you think it would be nice to have a Harvest Home Festival for the Sunday-school on Thanksgiving?" said Etta Mountjoy to her brother and sister one autumn afternoon.
"I never saw one," said Eunice, whose duties as housekeeper had kept her rather closely confined at home for some years.