And then, my dear young friends, we want ministers so badly. Where shall we get them? Do I not hear at least one of you say, “Here am I; Lord, send me?” Think of that shepherdless and sorrowing flock, that vacant pulpit, that newly made grave, in Amelia county! think how fearlessly and faithfully the lamented S. Hamner Davis stood up for Jesus, and how triumphantly he died! My dear scholars, will not some of you, would it be too much to say all of you, dedicate yourselves to the work of the blessed ministry? I know it has not a great many earthly attractions, but there is something cheering in the thought of living for the benefit of your fellow-men. I had rather be the humble instrument, in the hands of God, of saving one soul, than be worth all the riches or obtain all the honors which the world can furnish.
May the Lord abundantly bless and preserve you all, while we are absent from each other, is the prayer of
Your affectionate Teacher,
PHILIP BARRETT.
HALF AN HOUR IN BAD COMPANY.
“Separate from sinners and unspotted from the world.”—Bible.
A youth was once unintentionally thrown into the company of some half dozen young men of very immoral character. Their language, their jests, were of the lowest order. Indecent expressions, vulgar anecdotes, heart-defiling oaths, characterized their conversation. It was evident there was no thought of God in all their hearts.
He left them and went to his room. It was time for retiring to rest. He opened his Bible and attempted to read its sacred pages; but he could not confine his thoughts. The low, vulgar anecdotes of that godless party were continually flitting across his mind. Their hollow mockery of God still rung in his ear; the thought that perhaps there was no God, no heaven, no hell, disturbed his hitherto pleasant evening meditations; but that kind, friendly voice within, the lives and death-beds of parents whom he had loved only to lose, told him too plainly there was a God above, of tender and forgiving mercy, there was a heaven of bliss and joy, there was a lake whose waves of fire and brimstone were never quiet. He knelt down to pray, and the profane jests of that God-rejecting company intruded themselves upon his thoughts; he retired to rest—they haunted his slumbers; he awoke in the morning—they still lingered in his mind. Year after year has passed away, but that half an hour in the company of the profane, the wicked, still exerts its injurious influence upon the heart of that young man. It will never leave him. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, it will remain in his mind to the last day of his life. It may be forgotten for a time, but, like the serpent concealed in a bed of violets, it will again and again come up to pollute his best and purest thoughts, to poison his sweetest affections.
My dear young friends, particularly boys, write this as your motto upon the fly-leaves of your books—write it on the walls of your rooms—write it in your copy books—write it on your hearts—Keep out of bad company.