A PICTURE, TESTIMONY, FACT.
Hogarth once painted a beautiful picture in which he showed the first step downward of a man who suffered capital punishment. It represented him when a boy playing around the churchyard while the minister was preaching. Not that all boys who do so will come to the gallows, but all are wending their way downward to worse offenses.
A gentleman who had charge of a prison, in which there were more than one thousand prisoners, took special pains to ascertain the causes of their crimes. He said that he did not recollect a single case of capital offense where the party had not been a Sabbath-breaker. In many cases the prisoners assured him that Sabbath-breaking was the first step in their downward career. “Indeed,” said he, “nineteen out of every twenty have neglected the Sabbath and other ordinances of religion.”
One of the most appalling crimes of the day is Sabbath desecration. Thousands make it a day of pleasure. On car and boat, with carriage and bicycle, excursions are made. With bat and ball games are played. With gun and fishing rod life is taken, all which says, “Death to the Sabbath.” O, my boy, are you aware what that means? It is an evil influence thrown against 75,000 Sunday-schools and 800,000 teachers to stop the religious instruction of 7,000,000 young people. It is an influence arrayed against 60,000 pulpits and 60,000 trumpets calling sinners to repentance. And more than this, it is an influence arrayed against the morality and integrity of the nation, for, as Judge McLean of the Supreme Court, said, “Where there is no Sabbath, there is no Christian morality; and without this, free institutions cannot long be maintained.”
A BRAVE BOY.
One lovely Sunday morning some years ago, eight young men were walking along the banks of a stream that flows into the Potomac not far from the City of Washington. They were going to a grove to spend the hours of that holy day in playing cards. Each of them carried a flask of wine in his pocket. As they were amusing one another with idle jests the bell of a church in a little village about two miles away began to ring. It sounded in their ears as plainly as though it were only on the other side of the little stream along which they were walking. Presently one of them stopped, and said to his friend near him, that he would go no farther, but would return to the village and go to church. His friends called to their companions, who were a little ahead: “Boys! Boys! come back here. George is getting religious. We must help him. Come on, and let us baptize him in the water.” In a moment they formed a circle about him. They told him that the only way in which he could save himself from having a cold bath was by going with them. In a calm, quiet manner he said, “I know very well you have the power to put me in the water and hold me there till I am drowned; and if you choose to do so, I will make no resistance; but listen to what I have to say, and then do as you think best. You all know that I am two hundred miles from home; but you do not know that my mother is a helpless, bed-ridden invalid. I never remember seeing her out of bed; I am her youngest child. My father could not afford to pay for my schooling, but our teacher, who is a warm friend of father’s, offered to take me without charge. He was very anxious for me to come, but mother would not consent. The struggle almost cost her her life. At length after many prayers she yielded, and said I might go. The preparations for my leaving home were soon made. My mother never said a word to me on the subject till the morning I was to leave. After breakfast she sent for me and asked if everything was ready. I told her it was and I was only waiting for the stage. At her request I knelt down beside the bed. With her loving hands upon my head, she prayed for me. Many nights since then have I dreamed that whole scene. It is the happiest recollection of my life. I believe, till the day of my death I shall be able to repeat every word of that prayer. When I rose, she said, ‘My precious boy, you do not know, you never can know, the agony of a mother’s heart in parting from her youngest child. When you leave home you will have looked, for the last time, on the face of her who loves you as no other mortal does or can. Your father cannot afford the expense of your making us visits during the two years that your studies will occupy. I cannot possibly live as long as that. The sands in the hour-glass of my life have nearly run out. In the far-off strange place to which you are going there will be no loving mother to give you counsel in time of trouble. Seek counsel and help from God. Every Sabbath morning, from ten to eleven o’clock, I will spend the hour in prayer for you, wherever you may be during this sacred hour. When you hear the church bells ringing let your thoughts come back to the chamber where your dying mother will be agonizing in prayer for you. But I hear the stage coming. Kiss me farewell.’ Boys, I never expect to see my mother again on earth. But, by the help of God, I mean to meet her in heaven.”
As George stopped speaking, the tears were streaming down his cheeks. He looked at his companions. Their eyes were all filled with tears. In a moment the ring which they had formed around him was opened. He passed out and went to church. He had stood up for the right against the wrong, with great odds against him. They admired him for doing what they had not the courage to do. They all followed him to church. On their way, each of them quietly threw away his cards and wine flask. Never again did any of those young men play cards on the Sabbath. From that day they all became changed men. Six of them died Christians, the seventh, who related this story, has been for years an earnest, active member of the church, and George became an able, Christian lawyer.
The same is true of you, my boy. You will help or hinder, bless or curse, encourage or discourage in proportion as you live and act on this day. Girard, the millionaire of Philadelphia, one Saturday ordered all his clerks to come on the morrow to his wharf and help unload a newly-arrived ship. One young man replied quietly: “Mr. Girard, I can’t work on Sundays.” “You know the rules?” “Yes, I know, I have a mother to support, but I can’t work on Sundays.” “Well, step up to the desk, and the cashier will settle with you.” For three weeks the young man could find no work, but one day a banker came to Girard to ask if he could recommend a man for cashier in a new bank. The discharged young man was at once named as a suitable person. “But,” said the banker, “you dismissed him.” “Yes, because he would not work on Sundays. A man who would lose his place for conscience’s sake would make a trustworthy cashier.” He was appointed. My boy—
“Dare to do right, dare to do right;
The world will change when you’ve won the fight.