.fA'=l21 
 
THE 
 
 PRODIGAL SON 
 
 BY 
 
 The Rev. GEORGE s/mOTT, 
 
 PASTOR OP THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH AT NEWTON, N. J. 
 
 r 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 
 
 No, 821 Chestnut Street. 
 
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 
 
 THE TRUSTEES OF THE 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OE PUBLICATION, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District 
 of Pennsylvania. 
 
 BTEREOTYPED BY 'WILLIAM W. HARDING, PHILADELPHU. 
 
TO THE 
 
 BELOVED YOUTH OF MY CHAEGE 
 
 IS 
 
 DEDICATED BY THEIR PASTOR, 
 
 IN THE HOPE THAT ALL OF THEM MAT BECOME THE 
 RECLAIMED CHILDREN OF OUR 
 
 J'at^er in '§znhn. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAOB 
 
 I. Man at Home, . . . • .11 
 
 II. Man Sinning, ..... 22 
 
 III. The Young Man leaving Home, . . .31 
 
 ly. Bad Company, ..... 46 
 
 V. Kuinous Living, . . . . .60 
 
 VI. The "Way of the Transgressor is hard, . 69 
 
 VII. The Prodigal coming to himself, or Conviction 
 
 of Sin, . . . . .84 
 
 YIII. Repentance, ..... 94 
 
 IX. The Prodigal Received and Welcome, . . 107 
 
 X. The Elder Brother, or the Moral Man, . 123 
 
 1 * 5 
 
IJN^TRODUCTIOJN^. 
 
 This little book makes no pretensions to learning. It 
 is not a dissertation, nor a commentary, nor reflections on 
 the Parable of the Prodigal Son. It is simply a magni- 
 fying of the life-sketch of man's career, which our Saviour 
 drew. It is an enlargement of the picture of sin and re- 
 demption as portrayed in this Parable, We have not 
 gone outside of the narrative ; but have endeavoured to 
 weave everything about its leading threads. 
 
 Pretending to no originality, save in the combinations, 
 we have availed ourselves of whatever material lay at 
 hand. Besides the commentaries familiar to all, it is 
 necessary to name an author to whom we are greatly in- 
 debted. In the years 1860 and '61, a series of articles 
 on the Prodigal Son appeared in the "Independent." These 
 were from the pen of the Rev. Dr. Tyng. We are not aware 
 that they have been put in book form. From them we 
 received many valuable suggestions and a few illustrations; 
 most of which, if not all, are indicated as they are used. 
 
 The only motive in presuming to place this book before 
 the public, is the hope, and earnest prayer, that it may do 
 good ; especially to the young. Besides, we do not know 
 of any work on the Prodigal Son of this character. 
 
 G. S. M. 
 7 
 
THE PARABLE. 
 
 A certain man had two sons; and the younger of them 
 said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods 
 that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. 
 And not many days after, the younger son gathered all 
 together, and took his journey into a far country, and 
 there wasted his substance with riotous living. And when 
 he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land ; 
 and he began to be in want, and he went and joined him- 
 self to a citizen of that country ; and he sent him into 
 his fields to feed swine. And he would fain have filled 
 his belly with the husks that the swine did eat ; and no 
 man gave unto him. And when he came unto himself, 
 he said. How many hired servants of my father's have 
 bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger ! I 
 will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, 
 Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, 
 and am no more worthy to be called thy son ; make me 
 as one of thy hired servants. And he arose and came to 
 his father. But when he was yet a great way ofi", his 
 father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his 
 neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him. Father, 
 I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am 
 no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father said 
 to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on 
 him ; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet : 
 and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it ; and let us 
 eat, and be merry : for this my son was dead, and is alive 
 
10 THE PARABLE. 
 
 again ; he was lost, and is found. And tliey began to be 
 merry. Now his elder son was in the field ; and as he 
 came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music and 
 dancing. And he called one of the servants, and asked 
 what these things meant. And he said unto him, Thy 
 brother is come ; and thy father hath killed the fatted 
 calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. And 
 he was angry, and would not go in : therefore came his 
 father out, and entreated him. And he answering said 
 to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither 
 transgressed I at any time thy commandment : and yet 
 thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry 
 with my friends : but as soon as this thy son was come, 
 which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast 
 killed for him the fatted calf. And he said unto him, 
 Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. 
 It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad : for 
 this thy brother was dead, and is alive again ; and was 
 lost, and is found. — Luke xv. 11-32. 
 
THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MAN AT HOME. 
 
 What is a Parable ? It is not to be confounded 
 "with a Fable. A parable is constructed to set forth 
 a spiritual and heavenly truth. A fable has no 
 higher aim than to inculcate maxims of prudential 
 morality, caution, and foresight. A fable often 
 supposes impossibilities, as that animals speak and 
 act like human beings. A parable has no such im- 
 possible persons and actions. It never transgresses 
 the actual order of natural things. A parable is 
 deeply earnest ; severe and indignant it may be, 
 but there is no jesting or raillery at the weakness, 
 folly, or crimes of men. The parable was a favourite 
 mode into which our Saviour threw his teachings. 
 That he employed such a mode of instructing, is 
 sufficient evidence of its value. For he was wise, 
 not only in thoughts, but likewise in his modes of 
 thought. *' Never man spake like this man," need 
 
12 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 not be restricted to his doctrines ; it may extend to 
 his wonderful facility in illustrating and enforcing 
 those doctrines. 
 
 The oriental mind douhtless was well adapted to 
 such figurative language ; and it was readily under- 
 stood by them. But that the Holy Spirit hath kept 
 these parables for us to read, shows that they are 
 designed for minds in all ages of the world. While 
 skilful interpreters have perverted the parables in 
 their play of fancy, and wrought them almost into 
 fantastic shapes ; doubtless God's people have made 
 the right use of them in their reading of the word, 
 and have drawn from them the designed instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Around us God has placed visible objects, to make 
 known "the invisible things of God," — a ladder 
 leading us up to the contemplation of heavenly 
 truth. " This entire moral and natural world, with 
 its kings and its subjects, its parents and its chil- 
 dren, its sun and its moon, its sowing and its harvest, 
 its light and its darkness, its sleeping and its wak- 
 ing, its births and its deaths, — is, from beginning 
 to end a mighty parable, a great teaching of truth, 
 a help at once to our faith and to our understand- 
 ing."* Man lost the key of knowledge, which re- 
 vealed all this. His wicked heart became darkened. 
 But Christ in these parables reawakened man to 
 this knowledge. At his touch all things became 
 new. The world answered with strange and mar- 
 • Trench on Parables — Introduction. 
 
MAN AT HOME. 13 
 
 vellous correspondences to another world within 
 man. Hence the parables rested upon substantial 
 ground. They were not buildings in the air, or 
 paintings on the cloud. 
 
 Christ seldom gave doctrine in an abstract form. 
 His were no skeletons of truth, but all clothed, as 
 it were, with flesh and blood. By the aid of the 
 familiar he introduced his hearers to that which 
 was strano^e. And there is a natural deli^^ht which 
 the mind has in this manner of teaching ; appeal- 
 ing, as it does, not only to the understanding, but 
 to the feelings, to the imagination, and, in short, to 
 the whole soul, calling all the faculties into a pleas- 
 urable activity. Things thus learned with delight 
 are longest remembered. 
 
 Nor is it out of place to remark here, how much 
 the parabolic element extends through Scripture ; 
 not only as the spoken, but the acted parable. Every 
 type was a parable. The whole Levitical constitu- 
 tion, with its outer court, its holy place and holiest, 
 its high priest and sacrifices, each separately and 
 all combined, were parables, teaching religion by 
 ceremonies. Some would continue this. But as 
 the ministration which exceeds in glory has come, 
 that which had less glory is done away. The wan- 
 dering of the children of Israel has ever been re- 
 garded as a parable of the spiritual life. So many 
 of the acts of Jeremiah were parables acted. He 
 breaks a potter's vessel, to foretell the complete de- 
 struction of his people. He wears a yoke to signify 
 
14 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 their approaching bondage. He redeems a field to 
 show that the land shall again be possessed by its 
 original owners. These and similar acts arrested 
 attention and fastened his prophecies in the mind ; 
 just as "would a parable of words teach the same 
 truth. 
 
 This parable of the Prodigal Son is the last of 
 three, which were spoken on one occasion. They 
 were called out by the circumstances of the moment, 
 as were many of our Lord's discourses. He was 
 surrounded by publicans and sinners ; who had 
 been drawn to him by his large-heartedness. He 
 had none of the prejudice against them which the 
 Pharisee manifested. He went to their houses. He 
 was entertained by them. All this had given offence 
 to the strict religionist. And as they saw these 
 publicans and unclean ones crowd about Jesus, their 
 ill-concealed dislike broke out in the low-toned 
 sneer, which ran from one to another — "This man 
 receiveth sinners and eateth with them." To check 
 [ this pride, which was elevating them above their 
 fellow-sinners, Christ speaks three parables. And 
 ^ in all of them the love of G-od toward the sinner is 
 ' the key-note. That love will not let man perish in 
 the wilderness, but finds him and brings him home. 
 That love will not let man lie buried in rubbish as a 
 coin, but hunts diligently until he is found. That 
 love receives him with kisses, and welcomes him 
 with gifts, as soon as he returns to God ; though, 
 like the prodigal, he has abused a Father's good- 
 
MAN AT UOME. 15 
 
 ness. And now the inference to these Pharisees 
 "was, they were not to call common or unclean those 
 whom God would receive ; and over whom angels 
 would rejoice. And thus silently, this joy of 
 heaven is contrasted with the bigoted and envious 
 repinings which so abounded in their hearts. These 
 parables together form a perfect and harmonious 
 whole. In the first — that of the lost sheep — we 
 have depicted the helplessness of man, his bewilder- 
 ment in a desert, and his inability to find his way 
 back to the fold. In the second — that of the lost 
 money — we have asserted the claim of God upon 
 man. As the coin was the money of the woman, so 
 are men the subjects of Jehovah. They are his, 
 because, like the coin, they bear his image and 
 superscription in their souls, which are his breath ; 
 and in their bodies, which are his handiwork. To 
 stop here, would be an incomplete description. It 
 would give only the Godward side, what he does to 
 man, and /or man. Therefore in the third parable 
 — that of the prodigal — we have those emotions 
 which are awakened in man's soul, and the feelings 
 wherewith he draws near this loving God. It speaks 
 of his changed heart. For God does not forcibly 
 carry men to heaven, as the sheep was borne by the 
 shepherd. They arise and go to the Father. They 
 come to Christ. 
 
 No one parable furnishes so wide a range of in- 
 struction as the parable of the Prodigal Son. It 
 has been denominated "The Gospel within a Gos- 
 
16 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 pel." It furnishes the preacher of Christ with a 
 model discourse ; and according to the various 
 parts of it, he is to present the truth. It is a uni- 
 versal text for preaching ahout the lost and re- 
 covered sons of our heavenly Father. Head the 
 parable, and remark how admirably it is adapted to 
 an awakened soul. We have thought that our Lord 
 caused this parable to be preserved, that it might be 
 a guiding-star to a soul bestormed on the ocean of 
 religious inquiry ; cast about by adverse winds of 
 doubt ; heavily laden even to the water's edge with 
 transgressions ; and wearied by painful watchings, 
 and unsuccessful labours. The parable first presents 
 man at home, in the Father's house of plenty and 
 happiness. Then in the heart is born the desire to 
 wander. This desire grows in power until the sep- 
 aration is effected. Then away to sin man hastens. 
 He plunges deeply into the waters of crime. He 
 destroys his body, he blasts his prospects, he corrupts 
 his heart. He sees, he feels his degradation and 
 misery. He longs for a better condition. All this 
 the awakened sinner can appreciate. Every word 
 comes home to his heart. But how is he to get back ? 
 This question the parable answers. It shows the 
 willingness of the Father to receive, if the sinner will 
 come with a penitent heart. To be a complete gospel, 
 this parable needs only the Lord Jesus Christ, as a 
 Saviour. And yet he who spake this parable was that 
 Saviour. The hearers did not require that he should 
 mention himself when he stood before them. 
 
MAN AT HOME. 17 
 
 How simple and yet how profound is this whole 
 narrative ! IIow transparently artless as a chapter of 
 human life ! and yet how full of mystery as a revela- 
 tion of the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven ! How 
 perfectly natural is the picture as a whole ! AVe 
 read ourselves and our thoughts in every line. 
 With what dramatic power is all related, so that 
 every clause suggests in itself a whole history ! 
 With what force does every word arrest the con- 
 science, and suggest to the reader — Thou art that 
 prodigal ! We all find ourselves reproduced in this 
 parable; either as we have become, or as zue have 
 ever been, or as we hope and endeavour to be — re- 
 turned prodigals. Well may it be termed the crown 7^ 
 and pearl of the parables of Scripture. \ 
 
 The parable opens with a most delightful scene / ' 
 — a happy home. It was a home of refinement and ( 
 peace. A father is represented as dwelling in 
 abundance with his two sons. He was able and 
 willing to supply all their wants. There was no ne- 
 cessity for them to go abroad in search of employ- 
 ment. The paternal acres and herds and stores of 
 wealth were ample for them all through their lives. 
 He was a father of great tenderness and love, and 
 was deeply concerned in the well-being of his chil- 
 dren. This is manifest from his readiness to receive 
 the younger son after his profligate career. The 
 father was not wrathful and impetuous, but greatly 
 considerate of the frailties of his sons. This is seen 
 in his calm and gentle rebuke of the elder brother. 
 
18 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 In this Tve cannot doubt the Lord's intention to 
 describe the original condition of man. To us, at 
 least, it is highly significant of the home, in which 
 man spent a few of his first days. God called that 
 home Eden, which signifies delight, tenderness, love- 
 liness.. It was heaven on earth. It was as much 
 like heaven, in its adaptedness to produce happi- 
 ness, as the state of man would admit. There was 
 no need for Adam to look wistfully beyond its lim- 
 its for good ; because all good was contained within 
 its enclosure. Enough was there for all his wants, 
 and even for the enlarged capacity of his soul, made 
 after the likeness of God in knowledge, righteous- 
 ness, and holiness. And the Father was there. 
 God came into that Eden. He conversed amid its 
 groves with our first parents — angels probably vis- 
 ited that heaven below. Not so kind and conside- 
 rate was the father in the parable, as was God to 
 these his first-born earthly children. 
 
 Those sons in the parable had never known want. 
 Their early years were not embittered with penury. 
 They were never cold and hungry. And '•' Adam 
 could no sooner see, than he saw himself happy." * 
 The first emotions of his soul were those of joy. 
 He saw " heaven above him, earth beneath him, the 
 creatures around him, and God before him. He 
 knew what all these things meant, as if he had been 
 long acquainted with them." * Those sons in the 
 parable had been protected from the evils of bad 
 * Hall's Contemplations. 
 
MAN AT HOME. 10 
 
 example. No profanity had fallen from tlie father's 
 lips. His conduct had not taught them to break 
 the Sabbath. They had never seen him at the"^ 
 gaming-table, or with the wine cup of intoxication. 
 Assiduously he had set them an example of sobriety, 
 honesty, and piety. And our first parents had only 
 that which was lovely and pure spread about them. 
 Angels were their companions ; God talked with them. 
 Uncorrupted thoughts filled their hearts. The 
 beasts of the field were there, but from them they 
 learned nothing that was unholy. The sweet war- 
 bles of birds were an harmonious accompani- 
 ment to the melody of their own songs of praise. 
 And why, in this blissful abode, could they not have J- 
 been content ? It might have been a habitation of 
 permanent enjoyment and rest. Oh, woeful hour ! 
 when they were tempted to look elsewhere than to 
 God for pleasure ! 
 
 The sons in the parable were either minors, or, ^ 
 having attained their majority, they still abode at 
 home, as anticipating the possession of their father's 
 estate. So that it was in the father's power to dis--r- 
 inherit them, if they off'ended him. Precisely thus 
 was man situated in that happy home of Eden. 
 The father had not given him the deed to that bliss- 
 ful abode. It should be his, but only on the con- 
 dition of perfect obedience. He was on trial. One 
 hour of sin, even a single transgression, might dash 
 to the ground his expectations. The trial took the 
 shape of a positive command. He might eat of 
 
20 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 everything save the fruit from one tree. To touch 
 '^that was to lose his heritage. It is not worthwhile 
 here to discuss the reason of that command. There 
 was a cause for it. Children situated as were the 
 sons in the parable, would be careful not to incur 
 the displeasure of their father. Self-interest, if 
 ^ nothing else, would make them dutiful. And yet 
 this younger son was reckless. He was so bold as 
 to demand his share of the estate before the father's 
 death. Could any act be more imprudent ? Was 
 not this almost a certain way to be disowned ? And 
 thus reckless was Adam. He must have known 
 that God could not be trifled with. The very tree 
 reminded him of his duty. One would think that 
 Eve's hand would have dropped nerveless, ere she 
 had half way reached to the fruit. And yet, with the 
 
 >^ threat right before them, they disobeyed. 
 
 And we are here on trial. God is giving us a 
 chance for eternal bliss. A rich "inheritance 
 among the saints in glory" is the promised posses- 
 sion of all who do the will of God. That is ours, 
 on the condition that we become the sons of God by 
 faith and holy living. On our becoming Christ's, 
 hang the future glories of heaven for us. How 
 solemn then the position we are placed in ! Upon 
 the decision we make in this brief period of 
 
 yf^ life, depends our eternal state. And yet how 
 reckless we are ! Men live in open violation of 
 God's laws, laugh at his providences, and grow 
 bold and blasphemous in their opposition to heaven. 
 
MAN AT HOME. 21 
 
 What greater recklessness can we conceive ? Do 
 we wash our hands from such a charge ? Still 
 there may be recklessness in us, equally fatal, 
 though not so daring. He is reckless who delays % 
 his soul's salvation. He is reckless who, witnessing 
 death on every side, fails to prepare for his own 
 death. He is reckless who lives without the love 
 of God in his heart, and without a well-grounded 
 hope in Christ as a Saviour. 
 
22 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MANSINNING. 
 
 A certain man had two sons : and the younger of 
 them said to his father^ Father^ give me the portion 
 of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto 
 them his living. 
 
 In this world nothing is too sacred or solemn to 
 keep out Satan. Israel was tempted and fell at the 
 very foot of Sinai. Immediately after the consecra- 
 tion of Aaron and his sons to the priestly office, 
 there occurred the sacrilegious conduct of Nadab 
 and Abihu. At the institution of the Lord's sup- 
 per, Satan entered into the heart of Judas. And 
 he entered into the heart of the younger son of this 
 blessed family, who said, " Father, give me the por- 
 tion of goods that falleth to me." What selfish- 
 ness ! How great a disregard of the feelings of his 
 father ! How totally insensible had he become to 
 the past and present kindness of that father ! All 
 the patient watchings in infancy, and the guidance 
 through boyhood, all this treasure of affection and 
 love he repays with ingratitude. 
 
 *' Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
 To have a thankless child." 
 
MAN SINNING. 23 
 
 Similar Ingratitude and folly characterized the 
 conduct of the first children of God in Eden. The 
 Lord God had done everything to render them 
 happy. Peace and plenty surrounded them. lie 
 was their Father. He loved them, and they loved^^ 
 him. They should have continued in that love. 
 The basest ingratitude, the most unfilial disregard 
 of the Father, and an utter recklessness of all con- 
 sequences, excite our indignation and pity, in the 
 case of the prodigal, and of that other prodigal — 
 our father Adam. 
 
 Do we wonder how Adam could sin in such a 
 paradise ? Do we stand aghast at his ingratitude ? 
 Ah ! what he did in his first chosen course of dis- 
 obedience, each wandering child of man repeats 
 again, in his own individual experiment. A savage ^ 
 of the Pacific Ocean one day went into the cabin of 
 a trading ship. His curiosity was excited by the 
 many new objects around him, which he examined 
 with interest. At length he saw a mirror upon the 
 wall. He approached and looked at it; and there ^ 
 he beheld himself for the first time, in all his hide- 
 ousness. He took only one view, and then fl.ed in 
 the utmost consternation. So this conduct of the 
 prodigal is a sketch from life. In him we see our- 
 selves. It tells us what we have done, or are now 
 doing. Every man in whom love to God has no 
 existence, is a prodigal son. Like him, he does not 
 return love for love. He is pushing away the hand .-t^. 
 which has protected him all his life. He is stop- 
 
24 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 ping his ears to the entreaties of a Father, who is 
 pained at his obstinacy. He is not under the pa- 
 ternal roof. He is unreconciled to God. Is not 
 this re-enacting the prodigal ? 
 
 The prodigal's sin began in his heart. When he 
 said, " Give me the portion of goods that falleth to 
 me," he expressed only what had long been forming in 
 his mind. The desire originated at first as a mere 
 suggestion, which he banished with horror. But it 
 came again and again, and he parleyed with it. 
 Bunyan, in his Holy War, describes some of the in- 
 habitants of the well-fortified town of Mansoul, as 
 talking over the wall with enemies who were be- 
 sieging the place, although this was strictly forbid- 
 den by the Prince. And by these talks over the 
 wall, those citizens were poisoned in their minds to- 
 wards the Prince, and rendered discontented. The 
 prodigal talked with this desire to forsake his fa- 
 ther, until his mind became alienated. He wanted 
 to be his own master — 
 
 " Lord of himself — that heritage of woe." 
 
 yi This desire grew into a determination, which was 
 carried out, when he said — "Father, give me the 
 portion of goods that falleth to me." 
 
 The wandering of the heart is but little con- 
 sidered ; yet there the straying path begins. We 
 devote our strength to acts and words, but not 
 enough to thoughts and desires. We are not as 
 deeply impressed with the fact that wicked thoughts 
 
MAN SINNING. 25 
 
 ai:^^siiijasj5DSL.axg.,lliat wicked a.ci3 are sinful. While 
 we^denounce evil deeds, we palliate the corrupt desire. 
 But^irist reversed this judgment. He laid bare 
 the heart, and showed how /row it came evil deeds. 
 His heaviest curses were directed to sins of the 
 heart. The sin of unbeliefs which is a sin of the 
 heart, meets a heavier doom than Sodom's lewdness 
 and open vice. "It shall, be more tolerable for 
 Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment than 
 for Bethsaida and Chorazin," who heard but refused 
 to believe the gospel. 
 
 Too much we allow wayward and unhallowed de- 
 sires to tarry in our hearts. An evil desire assails 
 a young man — to take advantage of one's ignorance 
 in trade, to yield to a sinful indulgence, to do any- 
 thing disreputable. He does not at once commit 
 the sin, but he talks with it over the luall. Beware ! 
 danger lurks in that parley. To be safe, like 
 Ulysses' sailors, when the songs of the Syrens first 
 w^ere heard, he must stop his ears. Desires will 
 wander in. They will fly over the walls. Needful 
 then the exhortation of Solomon — "Keep thy heart 
 with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of 
 Jife." 
 
 And what an alarming thought this truth presents 
 to Christian parents ! They may do all in their ^^ 
 power to keep defilement and bad example away 
 from their households ; yet they cannot keep sin 
 out of the hearts of their children. Temptation 
 will assail them outside the household walls. Evil 
 3 
 
26 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 and corruption they will encounter in the world. 
 How shall all this be counteracted? Cultivate their 
 
 ">t hearts. Sow unsparingly the seeds of good desires. 
 Fortify them in their hearts against temptation. 
 And, what is surest of all, labour and pray for their 
 early conversion. 
 ^ Sin does not confine itself long in the heart. 
 When unresisted appetite is allowed to rage, and no 
 covenant is made with the eyes, at last the outward 
 manifestation comes. The utterance, " Give me the 
 portion of goods that falleth to me," is the first 
 fruits of wandering. The seed was the desire cher- 
 ished in the heart, " Give me." In this is expressed 
 
 4r- the discontent of the son. He was no longer willing 
 that his share of the property should be in his 
 father's control. He wanted to use it as freely as 
 he chose, and in the way which suited him. He 
 was impatient. He could not wait until Providence 
 put him in possession of the coveted wealth. He 
 must run in advance of God, and have his money 
 noiv. Such discontent and impatience lurks in all 
 
 ^ our hearts. We want to enjoy life, and we have 
 our own notion of what is enjoyment. However, we 
 lack the material which is to constitute that enjoy- 
 ment, and our cry is, Crive me the portion. Men 
 think they have a right as creatures to expect from 
 the Creator their portion of goods: and because 
 they do not receive it they repine. And they are 
 in a hurry. Providence moves too slowly. They 
 want the coveted portion to-day. 
 
MAN SINNING. 27 
 
 All this manifests a desire to be independent of 
 God. This was the germ of Adam's sin. It was 
 the moving cause of the great rebellion in heaven. 
 Thus Milton puts it, in those words which Satan 
 addresses to the angels: 
 
 " Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bend 
 The supple knee ? Ye will not, if I trust 
 To know ye right, or if ye know yourselves, 
 Natives and sons of heaven !" 
 
 Adam wanted to be "as gods, knowing good and 
 evil." He fretted under this restraint of his Maker. 
 What though all the trees of the garden were his 
 to use and enjoy, one was not ; and that one denial 
 was more painful than were all his privileges pleas- 
 urable. 
 
 This repeats itself in every child of Adam. It 
 begins in childhood. Your little boy attempts very 
 soon to assert his independence of you. He tries 
 to break through the restraints which you impose. 
 How he hankers after that forbidden thing ! How 
 often he disobeys you wilfully ! And, dear reader, 
 as you have watched and been pained at this mani- 
 festation of independence of you, has it never oc- 
 curred to your mind that the proverb was meeting 
 its fulfilment, " Like father like child ;" that as 
 your child treats you, you are treating your Father 
 in heaven ? That what is done in your household 
 is ever being enacted in God's great family ? Do 
 1/ou never break over the restraints which a wise 
 Father imposes ? Are you not now doing what he 
 
28 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 forbids ? Is not your condition this hour most un- 
 ^j fili^ ? Your~owfi'1iouseKold is a parable, teaching 
 you the will of your Father in heaven. Reason 
 from what you require of your children, to what 
 God demands of you. Do to God as you expect 
 your children to do to you, and you will cease to be 
 a prodigal son. 
 jf" There is another feature of the prodigal's con- 
 duct, which presents a practical lesson. He wanted 
 his share of the estate before the death of Ms father. 
 This shows that he cared more for the money than 
 for his father. Alas ! that gold and silver should 
 so debase the soul. And yet it is no unusual thing. 
 Somewhere in every person's heart abideth such a 
 serpent. Our thoughts too often are on the wealth 
 which the Father has placed all around us. We 
 forget him in our desire to secure ou?* " portion of 
 goods." As this younger son ungratefully turned 
 from his father to his father's money, so do we omit 
 the love and duties which God requires, and become 
 absorbed in the profit and loss of this world. In 
 many hearts regard for God is as wholly wanting 
 as was filial love in the prodigal. The entire bent 
 of the soul is to the things of this life. With a sel- 
 fish and heart-hardening zeal they bestow their days 
 and their thoughts, their body and their soul, to 
 gold and silver — God scarcely receives a passing 
 thought. 
 
 Another important aspect of the prodigal's con- 
 r duct must not be overlooked, — his tvilfulness. There 
 
MAN SINNING. 29 
 
 was no excuse for him. His father was a most lov- 
 ing parent, and did all he could for the happiness 
 of his children. This wilfulness of the prodigal is 
 the discriminating fact in this parable, as compared 
 with the two preceding, which also represent man 
 as lost. The sheep went astray, but it was an un- 
 conscious wandering. The piece of silver was lost, 
 but who was to blame ? Not it, for it could not lose 
 itself. But the lost son wanders of his own accord. 
 One ignorant of man's history, finding him astray, 
 would not know how he came so. This story intro- al 
 duces the absent part. Man wandered, first in his 
 heart, and then in his acts. Wherever he is seen 
 away from God, away from the path of virtue, holi- ^ 
 ness, and peace, he is a voluntary exile. " Thou-^ 
 hast destroyed thyself' is a Cain's mark branded 
 on his soul. Man is lost deliberately. He rushes 
 on to hell, looking at the flames, and hearing the 
 cries of agony. The Spirit of God calls on him to 
 atop. Minister and Christian friends implore him 
 to turn from his evil ways, but he will not. He 
 pursues the course of his own appetites, and bears 
 the responsibility of his own choice. 
 
 There was stupidity and ignorance in the sheep. / 
 There was unconscious helplessness in the money 
 buried out of sight. But in the wandering son / 
 there was chosen rebellion and ingratitude. And 
 the like is true of every sinner. IIeJ,s a sinner by 
 choice, because he ivants to be such. Reader ! do 
 you start up and inquire of me, " Do you not hold 
 3 • 
 
30 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 that man is born with a sinful nature?" Yes. 
 *' How then can I be called a toilful wanderer, when 
 ■/I was born with the wanderino; in mv heart?" 
 From this position of original sin, we ask you to 
 step to actual transgression. And what have you 
 now to say ? " Well, does not the depravity of my 
 heart lead to these actual transgressions V Without 
 doubt. But that does not help you. For you hiow 
 better when you commit these transgressions. You 
 are a wilful sinner, because you sin with open eyes 
 and an instructed mind. You are not an idiot nor 
 a fool. What! .can you assert that one who has 
 always had a Bible at his elbow ; who has gone to 
 church Sabbath after Sabbath; who has had exam- 
 ples of godliness all around him ; who was taught 
 to pray at his mother's knee, and from his mother's 
 lips learned the ten commandments — can such an 
 one say he is not a wilful transgressor, when he 
 quits the path of virtue and godliness, and walks in 
 the way of his own heart, and not in the way of the 
 Lord ? What is voluntary sin, if it be not that ? 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 
 
 And not many days after ^ the younger son gathered 
 all together, and took his journey into a far country. 
 
 Next to the Bible, the greatest blessing and safe- 
 guard enjoyed by the Saxon race, is hojne. You 
 find no homes in Italy, Spain, or France. Cer- 
 tainly they are not in India, China, nor the isles 
 of the ocean. Poets have sung of home, and the 
 pulpit has explained and enforced its duties. Much 
 has been written about it, but none too much. Foi* 
 the home of England and America is fast losing its 
 peculiar features, which have hitherto made it a 
 blessing. Hotel life and boarding-house life are 
 rapidly taking the place of the dear home of olden 
 days. 
 
 Some of my readers, who are away from home, 
 can call up, daguerreotyped in memory, that happy 
 place which was the home of their childhood. It 
 did not seem so happy then as it does now when we 
 look back upon it from this distance. For the older 
 we grow, the dearer seems the home of boyhood and 
 girlhood. Other scenes which we pass through 
 
32 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 grow indistinct as years increase ; but home, like 
 the horizon, always preserves the same distinctness. 
 
 " Man through all ages of revolving time, 
 Unchanging man in every varying clime, 
 Deems his own land of every land the pride. 
 Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; 
 His home, the spot of earth supremely blest, 
 A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest." 
 
 Happy ! thrice happy ! are those who have had 
 a home in which to be trained. No matter how 
 humble that home, nor how defective the training 
 there, it was vastly better than to grow up without 
 such a shelter. We do not know how much we are 
 indebted to the protection which home afforded our 
 early days. Cast out the new-born lamb on a 
 March morning ; it will crawl to the shielding fence 
 and live. Plant a sapling on the highway, and de- 
 spite the gnawing teeth of the passing beast, and 
 the untimely trimming of the school-boy, it will 
 grow and bear fruit. But let the little child wander 
 about, without ever learning that sweet word home ; 
 let him get a crust at your door, and a drink from 
 th.e_brook ; pinched with hunger : struck by every 
 cruel hand ; without words of counsel or sympathy ; 
 tluis_beat.^bout on the waves of life let him grow ; 
 aniLneed we wonder that at an early age he swings 
 ^a~-the gallows ? The poor children of crime which 
 we encounter at any corner in our cities, are to be 
 pitied because they are homeless^ or as bad as home- 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 33 
 
 les s. It is no surprise that the State's Prison soon be- 
 c^mes^ their home.. A ^reat obs.tacle in the recla- 
 mation of the criminal and outcast, is that they 
 have no home to live in. Blessed is the child to 
 whom God gives a good home. And if in that 
 home there be a kind father, and one whom you can 
 caTrT>y'that heavenly word, mother^ and loving sis- 
 ters, I charge you, young man, before God and 
 men, do not leave that home without full cause. 
 
 All, however, cannot remain at home. Some 
 leave necessarily; but others, because, like the 
 prodigal, they love to wander. No lawful pleasure 
 Jiad been denied Hiis younger son, yet a desire for 
 a freer life, and larger JndJllg£UJCJ&5 had sprung up 
 within him. A home of plenty, a father's favour, a 
 mother's care, a sister's tenderness, have become 
 too. tame for HTs distempered imagination and riot- 
 ous blood. He wants to be out of his father's 
 house, and beyond his discipline. He_loathes this 
 everlasting preaching about his conduct. He can- 
 not stay in the neighbourhood. He must get so far 
 off that noj-eports of his evil career shall come back. 
 Just such folly there is in multitudes of young men, 
 w^ho are impatient of the restrictions of home and 
 friends. And they never think themselves free, 
 and their own masters, until they have broken all 
 God's bands in sunder, and bound themselves with 
 their own lusts. They cease not, and in the end 
 break their mother's heart, and suffuse their sister's 
 cheeks with shame. 
 
 
34 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 This propensity to seek pleasure away from the 
 family hearth, early developes itself in young per- 
 sons, particularly in young men. A nd it is the first 
 ste^ to ruin. I find pleasant homes, around whose 
 cheerful fireside the mother, and the father, and the 
 sisters gather, and peace and quiet crown the eve- 
 ning ; but I do not see the brothers there. Evening 
 after evening they are absent, and until a late hour 
 of the night. They are seeking pleasure in theatres, 
 in revellings, in the billiard saloon, in the gambler's 
 den, in the bar-room, in the house of the strange 
 woman. When I find a young man habitually 
 absent from the family-circle in the evening, whose 
 occupation does not call him away, I put down his 
 name on the list of those who are on the road to 
 ruin. When I walk through a town in the middle 
 of an evening, and find lads hallowing and running 
 about the streets, assailing my ears with oaths and 
 obscenity, clustering on hotel stoops and at the cor- 
 ners ; I conclude that these boys are young prodi- 
 gals.^ Tkey are taking the first step in his career. 
 They are being weaned from home. They are learn- 
 ing to love the rudeness and wickedness which shun 
 daylight, rather than the gentler amusements which 
 ar« found in the family circle. They are learning 
 the pleasures of sin, before they have experienced 
 the delights of home. And it is only God's pre- 
 venting grace which will keep them from disgracing 
 their parents and ruining their prospects for life. 
 
 Oh that, with far-reaching voice, I could get the 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 35 
 
 ear of every parent in our land ! I would say to 
 them, make home jiltractive. Make it_^ magnet. 
 Study to please your sons while there. Tax your 
 mind^ if need be, that you may present inducements 
 which shall make them love to be where you are. 
 Let no rebuffs, or indifference, or coldness make 
 them prefer the fumes of the saloon to the icy at- 
 mosphere of home. Begrudge not money for books, 
 or music, or whatever of an innocent nature may 
 amuse. This is a vital matter, and demands far 
 more consideration from parents than it receives. 
 Home is regarded by many as a mere sheltering 
 place, or boarding-house ; while all comfort and 
 happiness are to be sought and found in the wide 
 world. In not a few cases, parents have been re- 
 sponsible for the waywardness of their sons. Home 
 has been gloomy or it has been empty. Those who 
 ought to be there are seeking their pleasure in 
 parties, and balls, and visits. When the parent goes 
 abroad for happiness, no one can blame the child 
 for doing the ^ame. This sore evil have I witnessed 
 in our cities. A large and splendid mansion, filled 
 with all comforts, decked with the adornments of 
 art ; a most inviting abode, which one would think 
 the inmates would never want to leave ; and yet 
 into it, like straggling bees to a hive, the occupants 
 come at all hours of the night. _The father goes to 
 the club, the mother and daughters to the opera, 
 and the sons to meet " the boys.'" 
 
 It is the Englishman's boast, that his house is his 
 
36 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 castle. Ever^LpiireJlt^JiQnie. ought- to be Ms castle. 
 It should be a place of defence of his children. In 
 feudal times the horn was sounded at sunset, which 
 summoned all the inmates of the castle to the door, 
 and at dusk the portcullis was let down, and none 
 were admitted afterward ; and none allowed to otq 
 out. And let the setting sun, which calls even the 
 brutes to their hiding-places and the fowls to their 
 trees, be the summons which shall convoke the 
 household home, and heejy it there. All damfistic 
 and useful animals go to sleep when the sun sets. 
 The ox, and the horse, and the fowl are no night 
 prowlers; that belongs to the lion and the owl. Nip 
 in the bud all disposition to seek pleasure awaj from 
 home. 
 
 The younger son gets his wish. The father 
 divides with the sons his living. He foresaw that 
 further constraint was useless. And as he could no 
 longer be a father beloved, he will not be a master. 
 The arrangements are made, and the parting mo- 
 ment arrives. All are sad, but this younger son. 
 May be a mock sorrow flits over his countenance. 
 He is in haste that the disagreeable farewell may 
 be consummated. Would you look on that scene ? 
 
 Then recall the_first timfi^^ou-left home to go. to 
 
 school or college; or to the adjacent town to learn 
 a trade, or become a clerk.. All are in tears. The 
 father hangs on the son's neck, with words of coun- 
 sel, which glance away as an arrow from a rock. 
 The mother clasps him to her bosom in a mingled 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 3T 
 
 transport of love and grief; meanwhile praying in 
 her heart that God would protect her boy. The 
 brother grasps his hand with expressions of hope and 
 cheer. The twining arms of a sister encircle him 
 once more in a farewell embrace; while her sobbing, 
 tender tones melt their way to his heart. And then 
 he turns from this weeping circle, as his father in 
 choking accents says, " God bless you, my boy." 
 
 foolish youth ! would that this sorrow could 
 tame your wild heart ! Would that it might awaken 
 repentings ! Could you see how that tattered, hun- 
 gry, poor, debased, diseased youth, will crawl back to 
 the threshold of this home : you now would turn in 
 your steps, and remain under that happy roof. But 
 away he speeds, like the unreined horse, wild with 
 liberty. 
 
 Probably the most critical moments in a young 
 man's life is, when he leaves home. He then en- 
 counters peculiar temptations. Perhaps he has been 
 exposed to vice and immorality in his own town. 
 But those salutary restraints which lay about him, 
 ^re now removed. He is exposed to equal jjeril 
 without similar 'protection. At home, he was under 
 his father's eye. He feared that father. He was 
 known in the community. He had a regard for the 
 good opinion of his neighbours. But in a new situ- 
 ation no familiar faces silently chide him. None 
 w^atch him, as he imagines. He can come in at 
 midnight intoxicated, and stumble his w.ay up stairs, 
 and no mother's acute ear will detect his unsteady 
 4 
 
38 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 tread. No sister will be awake to let him. in. No 
 father's eye, in the morning, will trace out the Jines 
 of dissipation. No such wholesome restraints hold 
 back the young man away from home. Herein lies 
 the danger, that he will rapidly advance in the 
 downward course. 
 
 A fearful change is that which transports a youth 
 from the quietness and simplicity of a country life, 
 to the confusion and magnificence of a metropolis. 
 He sees a style of dress, and a habit of expense, 
 ■which demand the utmost of his means to imitate. 
 He looks with a kind of awe upon those high in 
 rank and station, and imagines that his advance- 
 ment depends on imitating them. And jovial com- 
 panions, with whom perhaps he first makes acquain- 
 tance, draw him away to ruin. The following drawn 
 by a skilful hand and observing eye, is the sad 
 career of thousands : — 
 
 " A beloved youth came to this city from his rural 
 home, to enter into one of our great scenes and 
 marts of merchandise. His early days had been 
 watched in kindness, and spent in that ignorance 
 which is really bliss, amidst the cherishing of his 
 parents, and the tranquillity an(f harmony of the 
 household in which he was born. He might have 
 been almost said, never to have seen the shape of 
 degrading sin — certainly of the most degrading 
 shapes he knew nothing. The age of his maturity 
 approached, and his opening desires asked for op- 
 portunities of activity and business in the world, 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 39 
 
 and his scarcely-yielding parents consented to his 
 trial of a city life. He was placed in a warehouse 
 of large engagements, and found his home in a 
 boarding-house of respectability and good report. 
 But in both he found the well-tauo-ht acients of evil. 
 The^lauglied_at his boyish innocence ; they called 
 him green ; they scoffed at his scruples and avowed 
 principles ; they reviled his purity as pretence and 
 hypocrisy ; they awakened in him notions, desires, 
 fears which he had never known ; until they shamed 
 him out of his integrity, and left him to perish. He 
 came to the church on his first arrival, and delighted 
 in the Sabbath worship, and meant to pass his whole 
 time on the side of virtue and truth. But this cur- 
 rent of defilement swept him away. Not without 
 many an agony, and a thousand heart-burnings and 
 regrets, did he turn his back upon the sweet remem- 
 brance of his father's house, or break one by one 
 the tendrils of his love and reverence that had en- 
 twined around his happy home. But break them all 
 he did, in a sad and fearful way. They dragged 
 him a willing disciple to the abominations of the 
 theatre, that open door to ruin through which so 
 many find the way to death. There was a real and 
 conscious struggle within which he was ashamed to 
 avow. But the first step settled all. The drinking 
 saloon, the billiard table, the gambling hell, the 
 house of the strange woman — all in an infernal pro- 
 cession followed. And fraud to supply his wants, 
 and disease to consume his life, and disgrace to 
 
40 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 brand his name, were the ripened results of the sad 
 experiment. I cannot dwell minutely upon his his- 
 tory in the facts so well known to me. Oh ! what 
 a journey it was, and to what an issue it led. My 
 soul sickens in the contemplation which the memory 
 brings up to me. And yet his sorrowful confession 
 was, he had never known one moment's peace, and 
 had sold himself, in this rush of pride over weak- 
 ness, to a constantly conscious destruction."* 
 
 How many have awaked to consciousness in the 
 far off country, and in the sty of wretchedness have 
 pondered thus, as they recalled the home of early 
 days. " That father's venerable form rises up be- 
 fore me, clothed with irresistible reproach. He did 
 not chide in cruelty, nor blame unjustly, nor exact 
 inordinately. He was full of tenderness, patience, 
 and sympathy. How well I remember his evening 
 prayers and his morning thanksgiving, and his holy 
 walk in the dignity of home religion ! That beloved 
 mother, too, whose smile was heaven to me, whose 
 love and tenderness never failed, covered my faults, 
 and sweetly wiped away my childish -tears. How 
 I feel her gentle hand upon my head ! Yes, I feel 
 her warm breath upon my cheek, as if she had come 
 again to life, to reproach me for the guilt and mad- 
 ness of my career. Why did I forsake that happy 
 government? Ah! if I had never wandered; if I 
 had obeyed my father's will, and retained him as 
 the guide of my youth — what sorrow I should have 
 
 * Dr. Tyng. 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 41 
 
 avoided ! "What painful raemories ; what unne- 
 cessary stains ; what deep humiliation !"* 
 
 But let us present a cheering thought. A young 
 man may leave home, and do so, safely. Myriads 
 have. While the shore is full of w^recks, out on the 
 sea are many barks, which passed the shoals and 
 pursue their way heavily freighted with precious 
 stores. In every community are seen men, who left 
 their father's house at an early age, and who have 
 risen to eminence. Inquire how this was done. The 
 reply will inform us, that it was not by riotous liv- 
 ing and by a spendthrift's prodigality. Their eve- 
 nings were devoted to self-improvement, not to 
 pleasure. They were not present at every horse- 
 race, nor found at the street corners, gazing imper- 
 tinently at every lady passing by. Those who did 
 thus went down long ago. 
 
 "A well-beloved youth, whom I knew, was a 
 complete illustration of this restraining influence. 
 Beauty marked his person — wealth adorned his con- 
 dition. Every worldly attraction was around his 
 dwelling. Every conceivable opportunity of indul- 
 gence was within his reach. His nature was earnest 
 and vigorous. And though brought up under all 
 the influence of religion at home, those who most 
 wisely loved him, trembled for him, when his open- 
 ing years forced him into contact with the world. 
 His school and college life took him from home. 
 His circumstances attracted around him the gayest 
 
 * Dr. Tvng. 
 4 * 
 
42 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 and idlest companions. His cheerfulness delighted 
 in mirth. His talent made mirth at his pleasure for 
 all. Ah ! — few knew what he went through to test 
 his principles and his instruction. His college com- 
 panions stimulated the worst propensities within him. 
 The array of books and pictures which form the 
 secret agencies of defilement in our colleges, and 
 aiding the influence of which are so many of the 
 stories and allusions of classical learning, led him 
 in one line of temptation to the very verge of ruin, 
 — when the remembrance of his mother and sisters 
 at home, so beloved, to be outraged by his compli- 
 ance, — arrested him with the sternness of a resist- 
 less appeal, and he started back. His social relations 
 brought him multiplied invitations to the card-table 
 and the billiard-room; and again and again, on the 
 eve of yielding, his pure and peaceful home came 
 up again, and he had strength to utter a solemn No, 
 and he never knew a game of either. The college 
 supper more than once threatened his destruction in 
 its provisions for intoxication, — and once only pre- 
 vailed, giving him a subsequent shock which secured 
 his final liberty. He came to maturity sadly tempted, 
 but wonderfully restrained. He had strength given 
 him to fight the battle thoroughly in his own heart, 
 and needed not to unwind the habits of outward 
 defilement and sin in open conduct. Grace found 
 him a tried and chosen vessel, and made him a no- 
 ble and shining instrument of usefulness to others. 
 Ah ! often in the course, his heart was tempted to 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 43 
 
 'sflT?/,' but the restraining Spirit interposed, — and 
 never in outward, allowed rebellion, did he ' my ' 
 the lanoruage of sinful choice or sensual determina- 
 tion. Though tempted much, and seeing much, — 
 from which parental love, had it all been known, 
 would have gladly kept him back, — he still had 
 strength given him to ' flee youthful lusts,' and to 
 *keep himself pure.' Why may not all thus start 
 back, and make their stand there?"* 
 
 I should be unfaithful to the gospel, did I not 
 declare that piety is the main safeguard to the young 
 man away from home. Mere moral principles are 
 not so reliable as piety. And for the reason that 
 morality has nothing but itself to lean upon, while 
 piety has the promised assistance of Ilim " who 
 was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without 
 sin." When I see a young man resting upon 7noral 
 principles only, I have hope of him ; but when I 
 find him seeking day by day help from God, then I 
 have confidence^ a7id dismiss all my fears. Turning 
 to the Bible, we learn that precisely this fortified 
 the heroes of Israel, many of whom, in youth, were 
 cast amid temptation. I might mention Joseph, 
 Samuel, David, Daniel, and others; all of whom, in 
 youth, left their father's house. I will speak of only 
 two — Samuel, when a mere boy, was placed in charge 
 of Eli at the tabernacle. That man, though high 
 priest, exercised no restraint over his sons. He 
 was too easy a man to govern well his family or 
 
 *Dr. Tyng. 
 
44 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 Samuel. Hence Samuel had no salutary trainino" 
 from Eli. Besides, the example set before him by 
 Eli's sons was very vile. The age, too, was degen- 
 erate ; and piety was at a low ebb. Still Samuel 
 maintained his purity. He developed into a great 
 and good man. But if he had not been a praying 
 youth, he would have been drawn into the vortex 
 of crime which whirled around him. David was 
 probably not older than eighteen, when he left the 
 sheep-cot, and became armour-bearer to King Saul. 
 From tending sheep amid the solitudes of Judea, he 
 was made the companion of captains and military 
 men, and officers of the royal household. Courts 
 were as corrupt as in these days. Yet David did 
 not suffer by this change. His morals and piety 
 endured this exposure, and only grew the firmer, 
 under severe trial. But David was a pious youth. 
 As our young men go out from home, we would 
 have them pious. And why should they not ? Ought 
 not their early affections to centre in their heavenly 
 Father and that Jesus who died to save them ? Why 
 waste this golden period in mere indulgence and in 
 disobedience ? But says the youth, I must have 
 my pleasures and my joys. And because we want 
 you to he hajjpy^ we urge you to he godly. " Wisdom's 
 ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths 
 are peace." It is a flippant excuse, gliding from 
 many tongues, that youth is the period for wildness 
 and indulgence, which will soon run out, and that 
 in the end they make as good men, and perhaps 
 
THE YOUNG MAN LEAVING HOME. 45 
 
 better, than those who set out at the beginning to 
 serve the Lord. This is a slander on early piety. 
 It is trifling with God's warnings and expostula- 
 tions. Who can utter such a sentiment after read- 
 ing the Proverbs of Solomon ? Each chapter, and 
 almost every verse, of those Proverbs, expose the 
 fallacy of such a maxim. The truth is, the cases 
 are few, where youth, indulging in a guilty career, 
 are reclaimed to virtue, usefulness, and piety, com- 
 pared with those who never went astray, but grew 
 up in the house of the Lord, and who walked in the 
 way of holiness from the morning of life. No Chris- 
 tians make such attaiuments in godliness, in none is 
 the savour of piety so fragrant, as those who con- 
 secrated their young hearts to God. *' Far better 
 Samuel's early choice than Manasseh's late but 
 painful experience, or Saul's noonday conversion. 
 Better, far better, to say with Polycarp, ^ I loved 
 Jesus in my youth, and he has never forsaken me 
 in my age,' than to groan with Augustine, down to 
 the very gates of death, over youthful sins and ma- 
 ture iniquities, however grace may have been made 
 to abound in pardon over the numberless sins which 
 it removes." * 
 
 • Dr. Tyng. 
 
46 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BAD COMPANY. „ 
 
 But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath 
 devoured thy living with Im'lsts, thou hast killed for 
 him the fatted calf. 
 
 The young man away from home seeks associates. 
 And if lie do not seek them, he soon forms ac- 
 quaintances. For intelligent beings are social. 
 The more intelligent of the brutes are the most so- 
 cial. The horse and the elephant in herds roam 
 their native wilds. The bee and the beaver, each 
 of which manifests an instinct akin to reason, live 
 in communities, and almost seem to have a civil 
 code. There is society and sweet intercourse in 
 heaven. And in the pit of despair, so far as we 
 know, there is no solitary confinement in separate 
 cells, but in company the damned share their tor- 
 ments. 
 
 Man, peculiarly formed for society, has no joy 
 in absolute solitude. God acknowledged this when 
 he said, " It is not good that the man should be 
 alone, I will make an help meet for him." And 
 God brought to him just such a companion as he 
 
BAD COMPANY. 47 
 
 required. Cut a man off from his fellow creatures, 
 and he pines away in loneliness, as does the dove 
 •who loses her mate. In fact, so complicated are the 
 wants of mankind, that only society, or man in com- 
 bined action, can supply them. From society pro- 
 ceed all the refined comforts and superior enjoy- 
 ments of life. And from society proceed the great- 
 est dangers and evils of life. Sin has wrought such 
 disaster and confusion, that the greatest blessings 
 may be turned into the greatest evils. 
 
 Parents' hearts ache when they think that their 
 children must encounter these same adversaries 
 which once beset their own path ; that they must walk 
 over the same enchanted ground which they them- 
 selves trod, and must stumble upon the same snares 
 which entrapped them. Theyknow the perils aris- 
 ing from assorting with a world, where youth find 
 so many things to allure ; where good inclinations, 
 a generous heart, and a kind disposition will furnish 
 the very means of ruin. Society, youth must and 
 will have. Good society is difficult to attain and 
 prfigerve. Ei^il society is as common as the air, as 
 universal as sin. We speak here of such company 
 as we ourselves choose. For we are frequently 
 forced into bad company. In our connections in 
 life, we may be obliged to deal with many, whose 
 principles and practices are totally abhorrent from 
 our own. The dislike and disapprobation of their 
 manners, which we feel, may rather serve to im- 
 prove our own, and confirm us in our virtues. Peril 
 
48 THE PRODIGAL SON^. 
 
 lies in the company of such as we voluntarily choose 
 as the associates of our leisure hours ; with whom 
 we delight to be, and who assimilate us to their own 
 standard of folly and wickedness. 
 
 To imitate is a principle of human nature. It 
 begins with the babe. The boy acts as his father 
 does. The girl repeats the mother. Our native 
 tongue is acquired by imitation. The youth selects 
 a townsman or countryman whom he admires, and 
 makes him his model. Most men form their opin- 
 ions and manners from the opinions and manners 
 of others. Herein lies the power of the daily jour- 
 nal. And w^hat we approve in social life we imi- 
 tate. It cannot therefore be supposed that we are 
 divested of this common principle of our nature, in 
 respect to things vicious and immoral. The power 
 of imitation prevails there. 
 
 Every man of prudence acts on this principle. 
 The father who has the good of his children at 
 heart, will not rent a house in a bad neighbourhood ; 
 because he fears the consequence of a bad example 
 continually before his family. And this is right. 
 But must we not see that exposure to sin anywhere 
 and at any time is liahility to imitate ? There is 
 an unconscious imbibing of evil. You remain in a 
 sick-room, and your lungs inhale the fetid atmos- 
 phere, it taints your blood, and spreads its poison 
 through your whole system ; and then you are ready 
 for the disease itself, or some other which may be 
 prevailing. In like manner does bad company in- 
 
BAD COMPANY. 49 
 
 feet all within its reacli. You look on, half amused, 
 and half ashamed that jou should be among them ; 
 all the while quieting conscience with the assurance 
 that you will not participate. You are inhaling the 
 poison of that atmosphere of sin. Continue to be 
 present in such assemblies, listen to their lewd jests, 
 smile when they laugh, depart only when a forced 
 self-respect will not allow you to remain — and in all 
 this, you are crowding your soul full of this infec- 
 tion. The heart is fast becoming corrupted by all 
 this foulness. And in some unguarded moment, in 
 an extreme pressure of temptation, the malady will 
 break out, and you will become a participant — a 
 wicked one. 
 
 Insensibly, but surely we contract the habits of 
 those around us, and with whom we mingle. If 
 they are rude, we become rude. If they are re- 
 fined and chaste, we are also. *' Tell me with whom 
 you go," says the old proverb, " and I will tell you 
 what you are." 
 
 " Vice is a monster of such frightful mien, 
 As to be hated, needs but to be seen. 
 Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
 "We first endure, then pity, then embrace." 
 
 Augustine tells of a Roman youth who could not 
 be induced-to attend the theatre, there to witness 
 the brutal fights of the gladiators. He was often 
 rallied about it by his companions, but to no pur- 
 pose. They could not move him. One day, in 
 
50 . THE PRODIGAL SOX. 
 
 [ sport, he was seized bj those companions, and car- 
 
 i ried forcibly to the theatre, where a contest was 
 going on. At first he shut his eyes, refusing to be- 
 hold the sickening spectacle. Soon he opened them 
 for a moment, and then for a longer space of time ; 
 until at length he looked steadily ; and seeing all 
 the spectators deeply interested, he too became fasci- 
 nated with the show. Then and there he acquired 
 a taste for such brutal scenes, and became a con- 
 stant attendant, until, by divine grace, his heart 
 ■was renewed. 
 
 The fatal consequences of bad company have 
 been known, and confessed in all ages. '' Evil com- 
 munications corrupt good manners," said Paul. This 
 is taken from a very ancient heathen poet — Menan- 
 der ; and seems to have been one of those sentiments 
 W'hich had gained universal assent. Sin and bad 
 
 1 company go together. It is dull work to sin alone. 
 Man needs the encouragement of accomplices in his 
 guilt. The sot takes no pleasure in drinking in 
 his own room. He likes to go to a tavern. The 
 more the merrier, is the rule in the assemblies of 
 the wicked. 
 
 • Men learn their first lessons in evil when among 
 wicked companions. It is seldom a man goes astray 
 without an example which he imitates. A lad hears 
 profanity, and he repeats it. He is invited to drink 
 with tipplers, and does so, and soon a taste for rum 
 is formed. He sees others gaming, and he tries it 
 himself. It is true that men are naturally inclined 
 
BAD COMPANY. , 51 
 
 to evil. And hence they become apt learners in 
 the school of sin. But it is with bad company as 
 'with schooling, we learn 7)wre cfiickly and tlioroughli/. 
 The hardened embolden the hesitating ; the adept 
 instructs the beginner. Bad company trains in evil. 
 It shows how it may be done. It calls out the evil 
 which is dormant in every heart. It is a hot-bed, 
 which prematurely developes seeds of sin, which 
 otherwise might never have germinated. Many a 
 hesitating youth, in whose heart yet lingered the 
 monitions of conscience, goaded by the taunts of 
 his companions, has rapidly advanced from the most 
 reluctant rioter, to be the ringleader in all evil deeds. 
 Many a repenting prodigal has been amazed, as 
 he reviewed his life, at the wickedness which bad as- 
 sociates produced in him, and which he never im- 
 agined to be there. 
 
 Mr. Gough, in a lecture before the Young Men's 
 Christian Association of London, in dwelling on the 
 corrupting influences of bad associates, alluded to 
 the inevitable penalty of mental suffering which 
 every transgressor incurs. 
 
 *'What you learn from bad habits and in bad so- 
 ciety," said he, "you will never forget, and it will 
 be a lasting pang to you. I tell you in all sincerity, 
 not as in the excitement of a speech, but as I would 
 confess and have confessed before God, I would give 
 my right hand to-night if I could forget that which 
 I have learned in evil society ; if I could tear from 
 my remembrance the scenes which I have witnessed, 
 
 i^ 
 
52 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 the transactions which have taken place before me. 
 You cannot, I believe, take away the effect of a 
 single impure thought that has lodged and harboured 
 in the heart. You maj pray against it, and by 
 God's grace you may conquer it, but it will, through 
 life, cause you bitterness and anguish." 
 
 Bad compajiy neutralizes all good influences. No 
 amount of refinement and education will protect 
 against this invariable rule of human nature. The 
 heavier mass attracts the lighter. So was it in the 
 family of Lot. His soul was vexed w^ith the evils 
 of Sodom ; but he was tainted with their depravity.. 
 Sin, heinous to others, was allowable to him. And 
 in the shame of his own family, he saw that godly 
 parents cannot keep out the bad example of the 
 neighbourhood. You may go to church on the 
 \ Sabbath, but if on Monday you visit the haunts of 
 evil, the blessed influence of the house of God will 
 disappear. The young man may have a pious father 
 and mother, and may kneel down with them at the 
 family altar ; but if he wilfully stands in the way 
 of sinners, or sits in the seat of the scornful, this 
 piety of home will weigh not a feather amid evil 
 associates. All religious instruction is overborne 
 by the lessons of bad company. Prince Eugene, 
 of Soissons, had all those qualifications and endow- 
 ments which can procure love and esteem. A 
 sweetness of temper, a quick understanding, an 
 heroic ardour, a skill in the sciences and other parts 
 of polite literature, united to justify the exalted 
 
BAD COMPANY. 53 
 
 hopes conceived of him. lie showed a strong incli- 
 nation to a military ]i£c, and at an early age in- 
 ured himself to its hardships, by making a board 
 serve for his pillow. The king, his father, hud 
 taken the greatest care of bis education. To keep 
 him out of the way of public diversions and other 
 dissipations, he resided at a distance from court : 
 there he gave himself up to the study of the sciences, 
 with such intenseness and application, that he came 
 to the court scarcely once a week. The young 
 prince allowed himself no other amusements, but 
 such as improve as well as divert the mind. How 
 great things then might be expected from him ! 
 Alas ! all proved vain in the end. Bad companions 
 insinuated themselves into his good esteem. Bad 
 examples found him unable to withstand them. 
 AVhen the vicious were his companions, their man- 
 ners were no longer his abhorrence. By associating 
 with them, he soon became as abandoned as the 
 worst of them. And in a few years, having lost 
 his virtue, he lost his life. There cannot be a more 
 melancholy proof of the fatal influence which bad 
 company and bad examples have over even the best 
 cultivated and best disposed minds. How then can 
 others expect to avoid the contagion, if they are 
 bold enough to venture into the midst of it? In 
 some persons evil propensities are very strong. It 
 requires much self-restraint, that they may walk in 
 the paths of virtue. For such it is ruin to venture 
 among evil companions, Tltey must give them up 
 5 • 
 
54 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 or die. It may be like plucking out the riglit eye, 
 but it must be done or t^e whole body will go to 
 hell. One such came under my observation. He 
 had a violent temper, and an almost quenchless 
 thirst for ardent spirits. At one time he became, 
 as he thought, and as I hoped, a subject of divine 
 grace. His repentance seemed deep, overwhelming, 
 and genuine. He abandoned his evil ways, forsook 
 his former associates, was a constant worshipper in 
 the sanctuary, at the weekly lecture, and the prayer- 
 meeting. And thus he continued for more than a 
 year. But thrown unexpectedly among a few old 
 friends, he was afraid to offend them by not drink- 
 ing with them : imagining that, unless he did, it 
 would be proof he was not glad to see them. What 
 a cunning device of Satan this is! And how ridic- 
 ulous ! He drank only beer ; but it aroused the 
 demon, which had slept for a time, and he fell into 
 his old habits. He was reclaimed, but wicked com- 
 panions drew him away again and again. 
 
 Such cases might be repeated by the hour. And 
 all go to show, that the only safe course is to keep 
 away from evil. Pass not by it. Go on the other 
 side. How is this to be done? 
 
 Avoid those kinds of business tvhicJi lead to Sah- 
 hatk-breaJdng, dislionesty^ trickery^ double-dealing ; 
 and which call together the irreligious^ the i^ofane^ 
 the gambler^ and the tippler. A man may be in such 
 a business, and become convinced of its evils ; and 
 yet he cannot get out of it. He ought as soon as 
 
BAD COxMPANY. 55 
 
 possible. No considerations of gain ouglit to prevent 
 him. But there is no excuse for the young man. 
 All kinds of occupations, and all branches of indus- 
 try are open to him. Why then should he put him- 
 self where temptations abound 1 I do most earnestly 
 beseech every young man, never to he connected with 
 any store ivhcre ardent spirits are sold, or where 
 gambling is carried on. Sooner go in rags and die 
 of starvation. For to starvation and rags, with a 
 sullied soul, such a place will bring you. No matter 
 how tempting is the offer, or how large is the gain. 
 Shun such an employment as you would the mouth 
 of hell. I would sooner put a son into a pest-house 
 to learn disease, than into a dram-shop to learn busi- 
 ness. I have seen — and who has not? — an uncor- 
 rupted youth find employment where his masters 
 were men of the world. The Sabbaths have been 
 partly spent in the store, with front windows closed. 
 Cards have been shuffled, casks have been tapped. At 
 first he is uneasy in this new life, but his employers 
 do it, and he regards them as all right. He discovers, 
 too, that they, in spite of their habits, stand w^ell in 
 the community. Even religious men patronize them 
 and court their influence. What marvel, that the 
 youth ceases to restrain the evil propensities of his 
 heart, which clamour for indulgence ; and becomes 
 as bad as his associates? Oh how careful should 
 parents be with whom they put their sons to learn 
 trades, or be clerks ! 
 
 To avoid the snares of bad company, seek out good 
 
\ 
 
 56 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 company. All society is not bad. Society the 
 young must have. I would not seclude you from 
 the world, only shelter you from the bad. All the 
 enjoyments of society are not with the bad. And so 
 conduct yourself as to secure and retain the confi- 
 dence of the virtuous and good, and they will be 
 your firm friends. They will be the friends of your 
 adversity. It is untrue that there is more heart 
 among the bad, than with the good. What heart 
 there is with the wicked is hollow-heartedness. 
 While you can be of benefit to them, they are yours ; 
 when not, they will forsake you with as little com- 
 punction as the ostrich does her nest. Many have 
 experienced this. The prodigal did. Of all those 
 who enjoyed his convivialities, not one came to him 
 in his penury. They did not care that he fed swine. 
 Besides this general companying with the virtuous, 
 endeavour to cultivate a friendship with one or more 
 of similar disposition, and similar good intentions 
 with yourself. Cicero remarks upon the benefits 
 which young men find from proper friendships," they 
 keep them in their duty." A virtuous friend will 
 keep us steadfast in our duty — a most valuable 
 service. Away from home, the young man needs 
 those who will take the father's place, and give coun- 
 sel, and who in the mother's stead will manifest that 
 tender interest in his welfare, which makes him 
 ever ready to heed advice. 
 
 Need I tell you that among Christians you will 
 find your best friends ? In the sanctuary, in the 
 
BAD COMPANY. 57 
 
 Sabbath-school, in the prayer-meeting, jou are in 
 good company. Are you a stranger ? let the peo- 
 ple of God see your face, and they will become in- 
 terested in you. Call upon the pastor, and if he 
 be of the spirit of his Master, as he should be, he 
 will give you the friendly hand. The best friends 
 you can make in a strange land are Christians. 
 
 " While the religion of Christ has its due influ- 
 ence on your souls ; while you direct your thoughts, 
 and guide your actions by the precepts of the gos- 
 pel ; you will have that virtue and conscience, which 
 will render vice odious, and goodness alone pleasing. 
 Show yourselves firm, dare but to be singular a while, 
 confront the scoifs and ridicule of despicable sneer- 
 ers, and they will leave you, because your company 
 will be undesirable to them. Finding you like a 
 rock amid the waves, they will grant you the silent 
 and involuntary approbation of their hearts. Thus 
 you will have true contentment and inward peace. 
 You will procure the honour and esteem of your fel- 
 low-creatures and the future rewards of the pious 
 in heaven."* *' He that walketh with wise men 
 shall be wise, but a companion of fools shall be de- 
 stroyed." 
 
 I cannot help thinking that the reputable mem- 
 bers of society, and especially Christians, incur no 
 small share of the responsibility for the existence 
 of demoralizing and vicious examples in the com- 
 munity. If a persistent but kind disapproval of 
 
 • Dodd's Lectures to Youns: Men. 
 
58 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 their course were maintained, the ungodly would be 
 checked in their career. Can we expe-ct anything 
 else than a laxity of moral principles, when Chris- 
 tian men tacitly countenance the ungodly ? When 
 they will have close transactions with them for mo- 
 ney's sake, so close as to become identified with 
 them ? AVhen for the sake of political ends, asso- 
 ciations the most unseemly are formed, like the ox 
 and the ass ploughing together ? When good 
 men do not speak nor act as though they thought 
 evil was evil, or the wrong doer to be shunned ? 
 What inference must the world draw, when a pro- 
 fessing Christian will publicly declare that we do 
 not want men of too great purity in high station ? 
 When a clergyman of a church of our Lord makes a 
 speech to prove that we have nothing to do with the 
 morals of a Congressman, but only with his political 
 sentiments ? When Christian men go deliberately to 
 the polls, and vote for the vicious, against the vir- 
 tuous ? Is it a matter of surprise that our young 
 men, wavering between a life of godliness and of 
 wickedness, should be strongly urged to self-indul- 
 gence, when such an endorsement is put on sin ? 
 
 The Bible does not bid us exclude the bad from 
 our sympathy, care, or attention. " Honour all men." 
 There is a respect due to every man, just because he 
 is a man. But Scripture does plainly, sternly, forbid 
 intimate, voluntary, association with the wicked. The 
 worse a man is, and the more openly he sets at de- 
 fiance the principles of our holy religion, the greater 
 
BAD COMPANY. 59 
 
 is the danner of connection with him, and of con- 
 ferring honour upon him. 
 
 And there is a shameful neglect of tlie young 
 stranger. A young man comes to a town ; who 
 cares to invite him to church, or to a social circle ? 
 The saloon is open to him, but what Christian voice 
 inquires of his welfare ? If he seeks you, he is re- 
 garded ; if not, what care you ? It is a misfortune 
 that too great a reserve prevails among the moral 
 and upright. The bad open their arms to every 
 stranger. There is a frankness, a cheeriness, a 
 heartiness, a warm welcome in bad company, which 
 is very winning to the new comer. It gains on 
 his aifections, and draws him towards them, while 
 the good eye him for a while to see what he 
 is going to he. If he turns out well, they will wel- 
 come him ; if not, they avoid him. Why not try to 
 save him from the clutch of these emissaries of 
 the devil ? If he be inclined to go astray, gently draw 
 him to virtuous ways, and thus save a soul from 
 death. Let not Satan have it all his own way. 
 While his minions lurk at every corner, and say, 
 *' come with us, come with us !" cannot Christians 
 say, " Come zvitlt us, and we will do you good, for 
 the Lord hath spoken good concerning Israel ?" 
 Tliou art thy brother's keeper. '* The children of 
 this world are wiser in their generation than the 
 children of light." 
 
60 THE PRODIGAL SOIT. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RUINOUS LIVING. 
 
 *** ^^And there wasted his substance with riotous 
 living.'' 
 
 The younger son probably began his spendthrift 
 course, by parting with his possession at a sacrifice. 
 And with the money in his pocket, he departs to a 
 -i-'far country." That same wicked heart which 
 constrained him to leave home, draws him into a 
 course of prodigality and sin. 
 
 This was to be expected. For the heart is a self- 
 generator of wickedness. You can drain the clouds 
 of their rain : you can exhaust the moisture of the 
 marsh by long-continued drought: you can run 
 rivers dry : but you cannot drain out the wicked- 
 ness of man's heart. It may pour itself out in 
 vile actions and words, in one constant stream ; yet 
 as full as ever will that heart be ; undiminished will 
 be its desires for evil. 
 
 Hence, when a man enters on a sinful path, he 
 
 ■cannot tell where it will lead him. When the younger 
 
 son left home, he had no intention of going to such 
 
 lengths as he was finally led to. Bad associates 
 
RUINOUS LIVING. 61 
 
 drew him on. He looked around on the debauchery 
 which met his eyes in the haunts of sin, and loathed 
 it in his soul. He was resolved never to sink so 
 low as that; but he did. And so many a youno^ 
 sinner pities the poor sot whose bloated form dis- 
 gusts his eyes. And as that youth, conscious now 
 of his self-restraint, merrily drains the wine-cup, 
 he turns with contempt from the miserable drunkard, 
 who gulps down the vilest rum. And yet in that 
 degradation he is witnessing his own end, as surely 
 as he continues his wayward life. To be assured 
 of this, he need only look back to the days of his 
 purity under his father's roof. How he then shud- 
 dered, as he saw others doing precisely what he is 
 now engaged in ! A young man swearing, smoking, 
 and drinking in the tavern, was as sad a spectacle 
 to him, as is now the tattered and reeling sot. As 
 surely as the wickedness of his heart, unchecked, 
 took him from his home, drew him away from the 
 principles which a father inculcated, and a mother, 
 with tears, pressed upon him ; just as certainly will 
 that wicked heart, uncurbed, drag him down to a 
 profligate's grave. 
 
 Every one can call to mind sad repetitions of this 
 younger son's career. The narrowest sweep of 
 memory will embrace more than one. Setting out 
 in life with the fairest prospects, their sun has gone 
 down in a fearful storm. Blessed with talents, edu- 
 cation, influence, and friends, they have dragged out 
 a miserable existence. They have literally wanted 
 
62 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 their substance. The portion which God gave them 
 has been squandered. If it were money, infinitely 
 better had they cast it into the ocean, and thus de- 
 prived themselves of the means of indulgence. If 
 it were talent, far better to have been half-witted. 
 If it were education, better to have remained in 
 ignorance. For a dreadful retribution awaits those 
 who squander God's gifts. 
 
 If God has placed any of my readers in a favoured 
 position, let them beware not to waste the gift. If 
 you are situated where industry, morality, and piety 
 would advance you to honour and influence; do not 
 by idleness and the pleasures of youth, cast away 
 this opportunity. It is far nobler to gird yourself 
 for the contest of life, and be a brave champion for 
 the holy and the good, than to supinely rot in self- 
 indulgence. Self-indulgence can only bring an ach- 
 ing and diseased body, and an untimely grave ; 
 while virtue and self-denial bring their own reward. 
 
 Every thoughtful person has watched and la- 
 mented the ruinous living^ which the habits of the 
 age, and the notions of personal indulgence have 
 produced. There has been a wide departure in 
 all the land from the moderation of our fore- 
 fathers. Our cities have become the scenes of 
 ruinous living, if not riotous. Every nerve is 
 strained to keep up appearances. The ambition of 
 multitudes is to be like their neighbours, or to sur- 
 pass them. Young people seek to begin life, where 
 their parents close it. Men earn money only to 
 
RUINOUS LIVING. 63 
 
 "waste it. A bridal dress often costs as much as the 
 whole outfit of our grandmothers. And to dress a 
 child is as expensive, as twenty years ago it was to 
 clothe a man. The w^orst of foreign manners have 
 been aped. Our old republican and puritan sim- 
 plicity has yielded to Paris life. Polite society in 
 our cities sneers at our time-honoured notions of pro- 
 priety. The husband and wife must be divorced, 
 outside of their own doors. He escorts to places 
 of amusement his neighbour's w^ife or daughter ; and 
 a corresponding liberty is granted to his own wife. 
 We find men so immersed in business, that they 
 leave their households to the care of w^hom it may 
 concern. And the mother commits her tender babes 
 to the care of the u ncouth Bridget , misnamed a 
 nurse ; while she promenades the streets, or spends 
 the late hours of night at the opera. 
 
 In multitudes of families, the all-important duty 
 of home training is neglected; and home-culture, 
 and home-comforts are unknown. The father's 
 place and the mother's is at home. There they 
 should seek their happiness. Each other's society 
 should be dearer to them than all the giddy pleasures 
 of merry-makings. And yet often do we witness 
 an abandonment of the home by the husband, who 
 spends his evenings abroad seeking pleasure, while 
 the patient wife sits solitary, encumbered with all 
 domestic care. This is ungenerous. It is in spirit 
 a violation of the solemn marriage-vow^s. It must 
 end in jealousies and heart-burnings, if it do not 
 
64 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 break out into crimination and recrimination. Why 
 should the husband habitually absent himself in the 
 evening any more than the wife, when business does 
 not require it? And yet we can plainly see that the 
 home would be destroyed, if the wife were always 
 away. Happy would it be for our country and 
 our children, if we would return to the home-life 
 of olden times. It were a pity and a sad disgrace 
 to mar this noble Saxon heritage of home ; and 
 hand it down to coming generations tainted with 
 French manners or Italian freedom. It is not in 
 the wigwam of the Indian, nor the harem of the 
 Turk, nor the tent of the Arab, nor the aoul of the 
 Tartar, that you find liome; but only in the family 
 of the Saxon race. 
 
 This riotous living has its pleasures. It appeals 
 to our depraved natures. It is just what the un- 
 renewed heart fancies. The paradise of Mahomet 
 is the heaven which suits man. Amid all this gid- 
 diness and pleasure, the remonstrances of reason 
 and conscience are stifled. For thus, in the quaint- 
 ness of Quarles, the riotous liver soliloquizes : " Tell 
 me no more of fasting, prayer, and death, they fill 
 my thoughts with dumps of melancholy. These 
 are no subjects for a youthful ear ; no contempla- 
 tions for an active soul. Let them whom sullen 
 age has weaned from airy pleasures, whom wayward 
 fortune hath condemned to sighs and groans, whom 
 sad diseases have beslaved to drugs and diets ; let 
 them consume the remnant of their wretched days 
 
RUINOUS LIVING. 65 
 
 in dull devotion ; let them afflict their aching souls 
 with the untunable discourses of mortality ; let them 
 contemplate on evil days, and read sharp lectures of 
 their experience. For me, my bones are full of 
 unctuous marrow, and my blood of sprightly youth. 
 My strength of constitution hath power to grapple 
 with sorrow, sickness, nay the very pangs of death, 
 and overcome. 'Tis true, God must besought; what 
 impious tongue dare be so basely bold as to contra- 
 dict so known a truth? — and by repentance too; 
 what strange impiety dare deny it ? But there is a 
 time for all things. If my unseasonable heart 
 should seek Him now, the work would be too serious 
 for so green a seeker. My thoughts are yet unset- 
 tled, ray fancy yet too gamesome, my judgment yet 
 unsound. What is once to be done, is long to be 
 deliberated. Let the boiling pleasures of the re- 
 bellious flesh evaporate a little, and let me drain my 
 boggy soul from those corrupted inbred humours of 
 collapsed nature ; and when the tender blossom of 
 my youthful vanity shall begin to fade, solid judg- 
 ment will begin to ripen, my rightly guided will 
 shall be resolved. Till then, my youth will be dis- 
 turbed with every flash of pleasure, misled by coun- 
 sel, turned back with fear, puzzled with doubt, in- 
 terrupted by passion."* Thus you reason. But 
 remember " whom thou hast lost by too long delay, 
 thou mayest not find with too late a diligence." — 
 You may not find Crod at the journei/s end. 
 
 ■3- Qufirlf.s' Jutlgmcnt and Mercy — The Procrastinator. 
 6 • 
 
66 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 But there may be ruinous living which shall not 
 go to the extreme of a noisj, vicious life. The 
 v>^ord which describes the prodigal's course, and is 
 ■^ translated riotous, means living unsavinglj, destruc- 
 tively ; living with no thought or care of one's se- 
 curity, with no desire but for present enjoyment.* 
 This takes in a wider reach than the other, and in- 
 timates far less of open disgrace. May not a mul- 
 titude of reputable, moral men be included in this 
 kind of living ? 
 
 That is ruinous living, which is a life without a 
 y practical remembrance of God. It is a trite remark 
 that practical atheism is fearfully prevalent. Many 
 a moral, honest, industrious man, who attends 
 church, and reads his Bible on Sunday, is an atheist. 
 He may shudder at the charge, but his conduct 
 proves it true. He does not act with reference to 
 his Maker's will. He goes and comes, he buys and 
 sells, he plans and accomplishes, without one thought 
 of the duties which God requires of him. In all 
 but the mere belief in the existence of the Deity, 
 and some vague notions of his word, and an accept- 
 ance of Christianity as the true religion, he is 
 atheistical. He does not regard God as a being to 
 be worshipped and loved. As the prodigal acted 
 without one thought of the father from whom he 
 had received his portion ; so do men conduct their 
 business with no regard to the God who made and 
 preserves them. " We may turn from open vice, 
 
 * Dr. Tyng. 
 
RUINOUS LIVING. 67 
 
 and come among the amiabilities, the noblenesses, 
 the stern and lofty virtues of our social life. And 
 amid these we discover the same forgetfulness of 
 God. This amiability and virtue exist independ- 
 ently of God. It seeks no guidance from him; it 
 asks no strength from him. It is self-sufficient, 
 self-acting. That amiability loves everything but 
 God. That self-devotion, so ready to sacrifice itself 
 to others' welfare, never surrenders one gratification 
 for the sake of God. That indomitable energy, 
 which effects so many deeds of benevolence, never 
 wrought one work for God, solely because it was for 
 God. That enduring patience, which faints at no 
 toil for others, has shrunk from the labour of praisincr 
 and adoring God."* That love which can watch 
 over the sufferer patiently through the long hours 
 of night, cannot watch even one hour with the Lord. 
 The noble affections of the heart are bestow^ed on 
 art, on nature, on books, on friends, but not on God. 
 This is the ruinous living of thousands. It may 
 shock them to be told that this is ruinous ; for it 
 seems lovely, pure, and of good report. Do we carp 
 at that living ? No ! Not at what they do, but at 
 what they lack. They lack God enthroned in the 
 heart. It is not a temple in which he dwells. 
 
 Among multitudes there is no positive crime, but 
 
 there is a life without a thought of the world to 
 
 come. It is a mere rushing on in the headlong 
 
 pursuit of earthly objects. Each day absorbs the 
 
 * W. Archer Butler's Sermons. 
 
■^v 
 
 68 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 mind by its business or its cares. Even the holy 
 Sabbath does not stay the current of worldliness. 
 Sickness scarcely impresses the mind with serious- 
 ness. From the death-bed they rush to the plough, 
 the counter, or the desk. There may be a ruin of 
 the soul in the mere devotion of its powers to earthly 
 and lawful pursuits ; just as complete as though it 
 were wedded to the grossest vice. Men may be 
 diligently applying themselves to their calling in 
 life, and be securing well-merited fame. They may 
 be rising in the esteem of every one but God. They 
 may be making their mark, but it is only on tablets 
 of clay — their names are not in the Lamb's book 
 of life. They are laying up treasures here for loved 
 ones, but are securing no glorious and eternal re- 
 unions in the kingdom of heaven. However praise- 
 worthy all this care for earthly matters, it is ruinous 
 living for the soul. For thought is devoted to all 
 else, but the true interests of the immortal soul. 
 While correct views are entertained on morals and 
 manners, and on public and social questions, there 
 seems to hang over the soul a cloud or a mist, 
 through which only dimly comes the light of heaven. 
 God is in the firmament of that soul ; but he is there 
 as the sun in a foggy atmosphere. The soul sees 
 his disc, and can define his position ; but there is no 
 warmth in his rays to remove the chills and damps 
 of earth, which surround and infuse that soul. It 
 does not live by the faith of the Son of God. Care- 
 less living for the soul is ruinous living for eternity. 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 
 
 And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty 
 famine in that land, and he began to be in 2vant. 
 And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that 
 country ; and he sent him into his fields to feed 
 swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with 
 the husks that the sivine did eat ; arid no man gave 
 unto him. 
 
 God has linked together cause and effect, and no 
 man caii' separate them. You throw a stone into 
 the^r, and it will fall to the earth. You cannot 
 pTeVent it, any more than you can arrest the sun in 
 the heavens. You put wax in the sun, and it melts, 
 you cannot make the sun harden it. Oil added to 
 the flames increases the fire ; you cannot diminish 
 the fire while oil is thrown in. And God has affixed 
 to a sinful coxirse of life, a bitter end ; and no man who 
 pursues that sinful career can escape that bitter end, 
 God has appointed as a rule in the moral world, 
 that profligacy and sin shall result in ruin ; and we 
 can no more break the connection between sin and 
 
70 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 ruin, than we can break that force jdu'cb draws a 
 stone to the earth. 
 
 ^ Because God separates cause and efFect_in_ the 
 moral world hy an interval^ we fail to be irDp.ressed 
 with its indissoluble connection ; "because sentence 
 ^ against an evil work is not executed speedily, there- 
 fore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in 
 them to do evil." If every profligate ran speedily 
 on to destruction, we would stand aghast. But it 
 often takes years to descend from thei'at her!gj K)use 
 to die hog-sty. If the first crime committed in 
 secret was immediately followed by the conse- 
 quences which close up a course of sinful indul- 
 gence, we would see the connection more clearly 
 than we do. When the admonition rings in the 
 ear, the answer comes in the heart, — " I have often 
 done so, and not yet have I suflfered." And yet 
 •^ Grod has said, and all experience confirms it — " The 
 way of the transgressor is hard." 
 
 This is applicable not alone to iliis world, but to 
 transgressors everywhere in the universe. God go- 
 verns this world upon the same principles which 
 apply to all created beings. '' Without law, or 
 altogether above law, man can never be, for the law 
 is the expression of the divine essence itself.''"^ To 
 the extent of our knowledge, the laws in relation to 
 sin were the same among angelic beings, as with the 
 human race. For when Satan and his host sinned, 
 I they found that the way of the transgressor was 
 
 • Olshausen. 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 71 
 
 hard. Hurled from their own habitation/* and re- 
 served in everlasting chains under darkness, unto 
 the judgment of the great day," they have learned, 
 asTias every other transgressor, that "it is an evil 
 thing and bitter to sin against the Lord." 
 
 And the father of transgression among men, "who 
 ^opened the drama of sin upon earth, became the first 
 illustration that the law of heaven was the law of 
 this world. Adam was a sinner and his way was 
 hard». We can faintly conceive of the hardships 
 which our parents endured, thrust out from that 
 blissful Paradise, and compelled to toil in sweat and 
 pain. For the work, which in Eden was a source 
 of pleasure, became, after the fall, a source of dis- 
 tjie^. At one of the corners of the great thorough- 
 fares of New York City, in the winter of 1862, 
 stood a man behind a small table, upon which were 
 exposed for sale diiferent kinds of eye-glasses. A 
 gentleman who had lost his along the street, stopped 
 to purchase, when the following was narrated : — 
 • , *'Sir, I have been here only a short time. I for- 
 merly lived in Charleston, S. C, and was in good 
 circumstances. But myself and family were com- 
 pelled to flee, in order to save our lives. We barely 
 succeeded in getting on a vessel about sailing for 
 this city, and secreting ourselves in the hold. We 
 had no time to save anything, not even money 
 enough to pay our passage. We landed here with- 
 out a cent. We could not pay rent, but we have 
 found a cellar up town that we get for nothing ; and 
 
72 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 my wife and I make enough to keep us in food and 
 clotliing." Was it not hard to go from a comforta- 
 ble home to live in a cellar ? And so was it hard 
 for Adam and Eve to live anywhere but in Eden. 
 It was hard for this man to stand in the cold and 
 slush of January and peddle eye-glasses. And it 
 was hard for Adam to sw^eat among thorns and 
 thistles. Oh how often, during the hundreds of 
 years he lived after his expulsion, must he have 
 thouo-ht of the loveliness of that sacred home; and 
 of the happy days spent there! Add to this the 
 sorrow he reaped in his children. Abel was slain 
 by his own brother : and all the scenes of bloodshed 
 and violence which were ever coming to his ears, 
 were like dagger-strokes in his heart. For he was 
 the cause of it all. Surely the way of that trans- 
 gressor was hard ! 
 
 The course run by the younger son is briefly 
 stated, though it may have occupied years. Leav- 
 ing his father's house, he hasted into a far country, 
 and joined himself to the ungodly, and his riotous 
 living brought him to penury and degradation. 
 Like many a thoughtless son who inherits an estate, 
 he imagines there can be no end to his thousands. 
 He is prodigal, instead of making judicious outlays. 
 He goes into bad company, where money will be 
 drawn from him faster than it can be made. He 
 becomes a high liver, a riotous liver. No fortune, 
 however large, can endure such drains. Unex- 
 pectedly, and almost without warning, he finds him- 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. T3 
 
 self penniless. And now evils accumulate. For ^ 
 hard times come on — " ancTa mighty famine arose." 
 He was so unaccustomed to business ; and dissipa- 
 tion had so incapacitated him for respectable em- 
 ployment ; that to get his living, he had to descend 
 to the most degrading service a Jew could perform / 
 — to feed swine. But even to this depth of shame 
 his evil habits pursue him. By luxurious living hisj/^ 
 digestive organs were deranged, so that an unhealthy 
 appetite tormented him. And to stop its cravings, 7 
 he crammed his stomach with the husks which the 
 swine did eat. These husks were not the pods of 
 other fruit— not, for instance, like our corn-husks. 
 They were the fruit_of the carob tree. It is often 
 called St. John's bread, from the tradition that the 
 Baptist fed on it when in the wilderness. Sold at V 
 a very low price, being exceedingly abundant, it is 
 sometimes eaten by the poorer people : although it 
 is mainly used for feeding domestic animals. The 
 carob is common in Spain, and still more so on the 
 northern coast of Africa, and in the Levant. It is 
 somewhat like a bean-pod in shape, but more in the 
 form of a sickle. The shell or pod alone is eaten. 
 It has a dull sweet taste. The fruit within is bitter, 
 and is cast aside. 
 
 This whole description is striking, and for the 
 evident relation in which his punishment stands to 
 his sins. " He who as a son would not be treated 
 liberally by his father, is compelled to be the servant 
 of a foreign master. He who would not be ruled 
 
74 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 by God serves the devil. He who would not abide 
 ia his father's house is sent to the field among 
 swine. He who would not dwell among brethren 
 arid princes, is obliged to be the servant and com- 
 panion of brutes. He who would not feed on the 
 bread of angels, petitfohs in his hunger for the 
 husks of swine."* Was not the way of this trans- 
 gressor hard ? 
 
 We have within the compass of this brief narra- 
 tive, the way of every transgressor. The parts of 
 his career are brought closely together. We see at 
 a glance, what may be traced out in a lifetime. 
 
 The way of the transgressor is hard because, it 
 ruins health. Without health man's days are mis- 
 erable. We should do all we can to preserve a 
 sound body. If we would have the future days of 
 our life exempt from disease and painful maladies, 
 which will be like rottenness in the bones ; we must 
 follow Paul's advice to Timothy — " Flee youthful 
 lusts,," Early indulgences in eating aad drinking, 
 or any other kind of dissipation, w411 lay the foun- 
 dation of physical distress. The young man given 
 to late hours, and late suppers, to wine and cigars, 
 will lose the bloom of youth ; and premature 
 wrinkles and sallowness will overspread his face — 
 unless the redness of dissipation hides it. Visit the 
 various sanitary establishments of the land, and 
 you find in them numbers of broken down young 
 men and women ; and those scarcely in the prime 
 * Trench on Parables. 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 75 
 
 of life. Thus robbing themselves of the pleasures 
 of life, which might long have been enjoyed ; they 
 learn that the way of the transgressor is hard. Do 
 not forget that yietij^ morality^ and industry lead to 
 haj}pi72ess, longevity, and health. 
 
 The way of the transgressor is hard, because it 
 hrings to poverty. Poverty is not disgraceful in it- 
 self. Nor are the poor always unhappy. Often 
 there is more real comfort in the cottage than in the 
 palace. That sweet story of the Shepherd of Sal- 
 isbury Plains shows us this. But those who become 
 poor through their own prodigality are the most 
 ivretched jyoor. They are irrecoverably indolent, 
 helpless, untidy, and wasteful. It seems as though 
 they can never get out of their thriftless habits. 
 The remembrance of better days is always a dark 
 cloud on their minds. Hence, when we say, that a 
 life of self-indulgence brings to poverty, we assert that 
 it is a positive evil. And whether one has a fortune to 
 spend, or lays out each dollar as he can get it, the 
 result will be the same — poverty. A Mr. Roggleton 
 recently died in London, who, in ten years, literally 
 ate up a fortune of $750,000. This singular per- 
 son traversed all Europe for the sake of gratifying 
 his appetite. In 1849 he stole away the cook of 
 Prince Potemkin, in Russia. He had agents in 
 China, Mexico, and Canada to supply him with the 
 rarest delicacies. A single dish sometimes cost him 
 $250. What was the end of such extreme folly ? 
 On the 13th of April nothing was left him but a 
 
76 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 solitary guinea, a shirt and battered hat, and the 
 other clothes on him. With the guinea he bought 
 a woodcock, which he had served up in the highest 
 style of culinary art. He gave himself two hours 
 of rest for an easy digestion, and then jumped into 
 the Thames from Westminster Bridge, and was 
 drowned. He died as a fool dieth. 
 
 The way of the transgressor is hard, because it 
 leads to excess. No delusion is greater than that 
 we can stop when we please in a career of self- 
 indulgence. A^tone does not stop sinking in the 
 water until it reaches the bottom. And when a man 
 begins to go down the hill of sinful practices, he 
 seldom pauses until, like the prodigal, he mires 
 with the swine. A lad who steals and is sent to the 
 penitentiary, generally steals again when he comes 
 out. " One evil invites another ; and when God is 
 angry and withdraws his grace, and the Holy Spirit 
 is grieved and departs from his dwelling, the man is 
 left at the mercy of the merciless enemy, and he 
 shall receive him only with variety of mischiefs : 
 like Hercules, when he had broken the horn of 
 Achelous, he was almost drowned with the flood 
 which sprang from it ; and the evil man, when he 
 hath passed the first scene of his sorrows, shall be 
 enticed or let fall into another."* 
 
 If my reader has a limit to his indulgence beyond 
 w^hich he will not go, and at which he will halt, let 
 me say, that he will not stop at that point ; for he 
 * Jeremy Taylor — Apples of Sodom. 
 
THE AYAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 77 
 
 "will be carried far on bj the momentum of sin. 
 Then he will have no disposition to turn. Sin will 
 be too sweet. He will be the slave of sin. ^atan 
 is^xerj willing to accept us for a few years, because 
 he knows that he will probably have us for ever. 
 
 The prodigal's course is wretched, because its 
 pleasures soon pass away. The pleasures of sin, 
 like the husks, fill but never satisfy. For a time the 
 soul is intoxicated by them. Life is a round of 
 gaiety, and glee. Nothing disturbs. Conscience is 
 asleep. The powers of indulgence are fresh. But 
 the course of sensual pleasure is soon run. The 
 pleasure which the man had in these indulgences, is 
 no longer aiforded him. He hankers after them 
 with a brutish instinct. Like the prodigal, he must 
 have something, if it be only husks. The debauchee 
 comes down from his wines and delicacies, to the 
 vilest rum, and the cold victuals of charity. "What 
 Pliny said of the poppies growing in the river Cai- 
 cus, *it brings a stone instead of a flower or fruit ;' 
 so are the pleasures of these pretending sins ; the 
 flower at the best is stinking, but there is a stone in 
 the bottom ; it is gravel in the teeth, and a man 
 must drink the blood of his own gums when he 
 manducates such unwholesome, such unpleasant 
 fruit. It is a great labour and travail to live a 
 vicious life."* A few riotous nights suffice to work 
 the decay of years. Bad habits are formed, which 
 cannot be cast ofi". The body is drained of life by 
 
 * Jeremy Taylor. 
 7 * 
 
78 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 excess. The mind is darkened and obscured, the 
 temper capricious, the affections blunted, hope faded 
 out, self-respect gone. Oh what a fearful price to 
 pay for those few days of sensual pleasure! 
 
 This issue is sure to come. It may not always 
 be immediate. There may be a period of gratifica- 
 tion and delight in transgression, long continued, 
 when the eye is not tired of seeing nor the appetites 
 glutted with indulgence. The summer and the 
 winter both pass in their turns. The morning 
 cometh, and also the night. But, sooner or later, 
 the glare of enjoyment is shut out by returning 
 clouds of conscious distress, and the day of mirth 
 sinks into the darkness of despair.* 
 
 How truthful an illustration of all this waning 
 of the pleasures of sin is presented in Byron, who, — 
 with everything that fortune, rank, and genius, could 
 give him ; but who laid out his whole life for self- 
 indulgence, and not for duty and noble deeds — ex- 
 claimed, before he had reached half the allotted 
 period of man, 
 
 My days are in the yellow leaf, 
 
 The flowers, the fruits of love are gone. 
 The worm, the canker, and the grief, 
 Are mine alone ! 
 
 What are these deeply affecting lines but the 
 confession of one, who, having spent all, found him- 
 self in spiritual want ! And the prodigal's misery, 
 
 ♦ Dr. Tyng. 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 79 
 
 and sense of the barrenness of sin, find a yet deeper 
 wail in this same poet : 
 
 The fire that on my bosom preys, 
 
 Is lone as some volcanic isle; 
 No torch is lighted at its blaze, 
 A funeral pile. 
 
 One of the most awful consequences of sin is 
 REMORSE. Beneath its terrific blows the hauorhtiest 
 and most hardened wretch has wailed piteously. 
 Like a demon it haunts the transgressor everywhere. 
 If no other punishment were inflicted in this life, 
 the way of the transgressor would indeed be hard. 
 A time comes when the victims of the licentious can 
 no_J.pnger be banished from the mind. Memory 
 keeps them there. They seem to rise from the 
 grave, or come out from dens of infamy, and stare 
 the seducer in the face. Their reproaches ever 
 tingle in the ear. The rest of night is disturbed by 
 them. Keep them away ! keep them away ! breaks 
 out in his fitful slumbers ; and betrayed confidence 
 has its revenge. A clergyman wrote thus of 
 Graves, a noted duellist, who shot Cilley. *' He 
 died the victim to the most horrible of horrors. 
 Two years he passed in sleepless nights, with rooms 
 lighted, and with watching friends, whom he was 
 unwilling to have for a moment leave his presence. 
 He consumed the hours of night in walking to and 
 fro, in frightful starts, in moans, and groans, and 
 tears ; and in wild exclamations. At length, worn 
 
80 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 out with mental anguish, and grief unmitigated, and 
 wasting watchfulness, the unhappy man expired." 
 
 " There is no peace to the wicked." We need 
 not be debauchees, nor duellists, to experience that. 
 A thousand memories of the past arise to flood with 
 tears the eyes of the sinner, and to pierce his heart 
 with sorrow. 
 
 *' O pleasures past, what are you now 
 But thorns about my bleeding brow ? 
 Spectres that hover round my brain, 
 And mock and aggravate my pain ?" 
 
 The course of the transgressor is often short. 
 Their excesses exhaust life, or cut it off hastily. 
 How often we see a young man digging his own 
 grave by his vices! Frequently the "wicked do 
 not live out half their days." I knew a kind-hearted 
 youth, generous to a fault, who early fell into bad 
 company. At the age of sixteen, he was seen in- 
 toxicated. He acquired a taste for ardent spirits. 
 He used profane language. He was licentious. 
 Efforts were made to save him. He was taken into 
 the country, that he might be away from the temp- 
 tations of the city ; but his vicious habits were ever 
 craving indulgence. Three miles from his home 
 was a wretched hovel, where a degraded sot lived 
 by himself. Thither this young man often went, 
 and passed half the night. Early one morning, 
 just before day-break, he set out on his return from 
 the night's debauch. The ground was covered with 
 snow, which had just fallen. He was intoxicated, 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 81 
 
 and grew cold and weary, and finally sank down in 
 the snow near a farm-house. He was discovered by 
 the inmates, and taken to his own home. His hands 
 and his feet were so frozen that in spite of all 
 efforts they could not be restored to their natural 
 state. Mortification ensued, and amputation became 
 necessary. Both his feet were taken off above the 
 ankles ; and nearly all his fingers. This was too 
 great a tax on his enfeebled system. He sank into 
 a decline ; and in four months went down into an 
 early grave, at the age of twenty-four. His sun 
 *'went down while it was yet day." Though there 
 was hope in his death, still the way of that trans- 
 gressor was hard. 
 
 Before closing this chapter, let us give our 
 thoughts a wider reach. We may be moral and 
 blameless in our deportment. Men may justly es- 
 teem us. And yet living prayerless, impenitent, 
 unbelieving, " without God," we are transgressors 
 — transgressors against God, if not against man. 
 And as such our way must be hard. We see that 
 one who violates natural laws is overtaken by its 
 consequences ; how can any escape who violate 
 spiritual laws ? If abuse of the body brings disease 
 and death, what shall be the effect of abusing the 
 soul ? Whatsoever we sow, of temporal things, we 
 reap the same. Does the process cease at the grave ? 
 Scripture says it does not. Approach this death- 
 bed, and listen : " I have nothing to expect, sir, 
 but condemnation." The speaker articulated with 
 
82 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 difficulty. Struck down suddenly from full health 
 to the bed of death, he made, there and then, agoniz- 
 ing confessions. " There is a demon whispering 
 in my ear, You knew it at the time, and at every 
 time." Knew what ? " Why, that a penalty must 
 follow a broken law. Mark me. I have not opened 
 a Bible for twenty years. Yet the very recollection 
 that my mother taught me to pray, (and she died 
 when I was only six years old,) has passed judg- 
 ment upon all my sins. I have done wrong, know- 
 ing that it was wrong ; first with a few qualms, 
 then brushing aside conscience, and at last with 
 the coolness of a fiend. Sir, in one minute of all 
 my life, I have not lived for heaven. 
 
 " Yes ! Christ died for sinners, but I can see 
 almost into eternity. I can feel that unless Christ 
 is desired, sought after, that unless guilt is repented 
 of, his death can do no good. If we sow thorns, 
 you know we cannot reap flowers ; and corn don't 
 grow from thistle seed. I have been following up 
 the natural laws, and I see an affinity between them 
 and the great laws of God's moral universe. Heaven 
 was made for the holy. There is a distinction — 
 it's all right." 
 
 He sunk into a slumber. Presently, aroused by 
 the striking of a clock, he looked around and whis- 
 pered — " It's awfully dark here. My feet stand on 
 the slippery edge of a great gulf. Oh ! for some 
 foundation." He stretched his hand out as if feel- 
 ing for a way. 
 
THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD. 83 
 
 " Christ is the only help," said the man of God. 
 "Not for me. I shall fall — I am falling," he half 
 shrieked an instant after ; he shuddered and all 
 was over. 
 
 Let us look a little further, just where our Lord 
 raised the curtain. "The rich man also died, and-G^^ 
 was buried ; and in hell he lifted up his eyes, being 
 in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Laz- 
 arus in his bosom. And he cried, and said. Father 
 Abraham, have mercy on me, (he did not call on 
 God, he dared not,) and send Lazarus, that he may 
 dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my 
 tongue ; for I am tormented in this flame. But 
 Abraham said. Son, remember that thou in thy life- 
 time receivedst thy good things, and likewise Laza- 
 rus evil things ; but now he is comforted and thou 
 art tormented." Was not the way of that trans- 
 gressor hard ? 
 
84 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL COMING TO HIMSELF, 
 OR CONVICTION OF SIN. 
 
 And when he came to himself^ he said^ How many 
 hired servants of my father s have bread enough and 
 to spare, and 1 perish with huriger ! 
 
 " Hitherto we have followed the sinner, step by 
 step, in a career which is ever carrying him further 
 and further from God. Another task remains — 
 to trace the steps of his return, from the first be- 
 ginnings of repentance to his full reinvestment in 
 all the rights and privileges of a son. For though 
 he has forsaken his God, he has not been forsaken 
 by Him."* 
 
 The younger son had reached the bottom. There 
 he sits among the swine, the most unclean and 
 beastly of beasts — himself fed with what they eat. 
 A man might lie among lions, bears, or wolves, if 
 possible ; he might consort with the deer, or the 
 sheep ; and yet retain some semblance of decency. 
 But nothing more vile and wretched can be imag- 
 inedj,J;han to be a companion of that animal, which 
 -c- ._.^ * Trench. 
 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 85 
 
 is a synonym for all that is uncouth, disgusting, and 
 bestial. AYhen we wish to express our thorough 
 abhorrence of a man's habits and life, we say, he is - 
 a hog. 
 
 Behold, ye transgressors, where your path ends ! 
 The licentiousness, crimes, and follies of life empty 
 themselves here. This is the goal to which they 
 conduct their followers. Few get out of it. More 
 rot in the hog-sty of sin than recover and get out. 
 Here, in the great majority of cases, the curtain 
 drops upon them, and they are seen no more. They 
 stretch their dying limbs upon a cot in the hospital, 
 or are dredged up from the bottom of a river, and 
 unwept they are flung into the Potter's field. 
 
 Our Lord presents a picture of man reduced to 
 the greatest extremity and want, and steeped in 
 iniquity. And this is to show, not alone how vile 
 man may become, but also and mainly, how power- 
 ful is that grace of the gospel, which can reclaim 
 him. Reclaim him not merely to virtue's paths, but 
 to his father's bosom. 
 
 The first step in this reclamation is to become 7\ 
 conscious of our situation. In the expressive lan- 
 guage of the parable, the prodigal " came to him- 
 self." He had been living out of himself, contrary 
 to his own best interests. He had been like a man 
 in the excitement of battle, or in the phrensy of 
 passion. He did not stop to think, or else he de- 
 liberately banished thought. What an awakening, 
 when such an one comes to himself! He sees how 
 
86 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 low he has fiillen. Tj^a .crimes or misdeeds which 
 soil his character ; the bright prospects which illumi- 
 nated his pathway in early life, but which now are 
 displaced by storms, and a dreary waste ; tears shed ; 
 hearts broken ; graves hiding those who mourned 
 his follies ; a wife, a mother who ended bitter days 
 because of his deeds — these which burst from their 
 lurking places in his heart, come forth and sting 
 like vipers. He becomes loathsome in his own eyes, 
 and writhes under the keen sting of self-reproach. 
 Is it a marvel that, goaded by such recollections, 
 he often falls back into his old habits — prefers the 
 sty to all these horrors which meet him on the 
 threshold of reformation ? And so the sow before 
 she is washed returns to her wallowing in the mire. 
 
 But this younger son was saved from such a re- 
 lapse. He " came to himself," and saw himself in 
 his true character. He had never been dulj affec- 
 ted by his base ingratitude in leaving home. JVow 
 i his treatment of that kind father fills him with the 
 deepest remorse. He has squandered his fortune, 
 he has disgraced himself, but above all, he has been 
 an ungrateful son. Tn later life ^ not hinp; points the 
 arrojy s .of remorse like unkind treatment of our 
 paren ts. As their love towards us is the strongest 
 ever bestowed on us ; so that love unrequited, abused, 
 causes the most poignant sorrow. It is something 
 we can never get over. Tears of penitence do not 
 wash away its corroding power. 
 
 And in the sinner's heart, who is coming to him- 
 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 87 
 
 self, arises this remembrance of Cfod's slighted love. 
 He traces, all through his life, indications of the 
 Divine forbearance. Pie now beholds, as never be- 
 fore, and in amazement, long-suffering, abundance 
 of goodness, and mercy. 
 
 " Ten thousand times his goodness seen, 
 Ten thousand times his goodness grieved," 
 
 He can scarcely credit the retrospect. He in- 
 quires, Why was all this to me ? Why am I alive, 
 when so many of my contemporaries are in the 
 grave ? Why have I been shielded from calamity, 
 which has overwhelmed others ? Why have I been 
 prospered, when they were thwarted at every step ? 
 And what have I done in return for all this? Can 
 I call those transient emotions I have had gratitude ? 
 Can the God who has been so indulgent to me be 
 content with those fragments of thought, those 
 shreds of my time, which I have bestowed upon him ? 
 Alas ! I must confess myself an ungrateful child ! 
 And he who is of a noble soul, in all that relates to 
 the amenities and proprieties of life, may well hang 
 his head as he recalls all his forgetfulness of God. 
 Now his true character of heart is revealed. He 
 discovers that all his care has been to have an un- 
 sullied record for man to look at; but how tarnished 
 is that which God beholds! 
 
 The sinner comes to himself, and finds an angry 
 God. This Being is justly offended with him. Men 
 may carp about God's anger as inconsistent with 
 his holiness and love ; but the awakened sinner is 
 
88 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 never troubled by such doubts. He feels that all 
 his life of thoughtlessness and irreligion could not 
 confront his Maker, without receiving the frowns of 
 that Maker. The more his sins multiply in number, 
 the deeper grows the feeling that God is angry with 
 him. Sometimes he becomes greatly alarmed. He 
 hears the terrible voice of the Judge. He reads 
 his death warrant in the threats of the law. Sin 
 ceases to appear of small consequence. Sin con- 
 fronts him at every turn, as he reviews his life. He 
 meets it where he never saw it before. His own 
 esteemed works of righteousness are vain. His 
 virtues are of no value. All he is, and all he 
 has done, are so faulty and corrupt, that God m ust 
 be angry with everything about him. He seems to 
 be in a desert, and whichever way he turns, there, in 
 awful majesty, appears that offended God. 
 
 The convicted sinner comes to himself, i. e., he 
 comes hachJ,o himself. He has been away from 
 himself, ouf of Hmself. He meant to live for him- 
 self, but so has Satan deceived him, that he has 
 been living against himself, against his own eternal 
 interests. Eor ho only lives for himself, who lives 
 for God. And in coming to himself, the sinner 
 meets a being whom he has never known before. 
 He aivakes to the reality and importance of his own 
 nature, to a consciousness of his immortality. He 
 experiences, as never before, that he has a soul over 
 which death has no power. This contrast between 
 himself, and the nature of his pursuits, prostrates 
 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 89 
 
 him in deep abasement. He regards himself as the 
 child of a prince, and yet rolling in voluntary filth 
 and beggary. Said a talented youth, in these cir- 
 cumstances, " What a poor, degraded thing seems 
 m}^ whole life to me ; never before did I seem to 
 have a thought or an object becoming my real char- 
 acter and being."* Thus changed become his con- 
 ceptions of life, and of what is most valuable. 
 
 The convicted sinner comes to himself and finds 
 wher^^Juujis. The prodigal found himself a com- 
 panion of SAvine. Undoubtedly he was startled 
 when he realized his position. And so the sinner 
 finds himself among God's enemies. Whatever re- 
 spect he may profess for the Deity, he is not " on 
 the^liord^s sjde." HLe is a companion of lost spirits, 
 tho- -worst of God's intelligent creatures. He would 
 shrink from associating with the debased, and yet 
 his soul is the dwelling-place of spirits from the pit. 
 They roam at pleasure and tarry at will, in all the 
 chambers of his heart. Eor the Holy Spirit is not 
 there to keep them out. Life, too, has gone by, 
 and nothing is done as to the great purpose of life 
 — to prepare for death. To-morrow he may be 
 summoned to the grave, and what has he for that 
 to-morrow ? What has he to show for all these 
 days ? A few dollars, a high reputation — perhaps 
 not even these. What has he that he can take away 
 with him ? Will the result of his labours greet him 
 in the next world ? Will he be as happy there as 
 
 • Dr. Tyng. 
 8* 
 
90 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 he is here ? Every tiling has been given — his very 
 soul has been staked upon this venture. And what is 
 received in return ? Anything imperishable ? Any- 
 thing which can endure the flames which are to try 
 every man's work ? Kevolving such thoughts, he 
 feels that strength was spent for that which is 
 nought, and labour for that which profiteth not. 
 
 By such contemplations as these, the awakened 
 sinner reaches the conclusion of the prodigal — iUL 
 perish with hunger." Oh how this cry comes out of 
 thousands of hearts, who know not the cause of their 
 hunger ! They are surrounded by comforts, and 
 luxuries ; they are prosperous, and healthy ; they 
 have friends ; and yet their souls are not at ease. 
 All this does not satisfy. There is a void unfilled, 
 a hankering ungratified. They imagine the fault 
 to be in those things about them. And they resort 
 to change, but no relief comes. In their own heart 
 is the secret of failure. There was food enough 
 around the prodigal, but it was not what his nature 
 required. So there is a sufficiency around man, but 
 they are not what his spiritual nature craves. It 
 was contrary to nature that the prodigal should cram 
 himself with husks ; and it is contrary to man's 
 spiritual nature, to attempt to satisfy the soul by 
 that which pleases the senses. Hence the soul is 
 hungry with all man's pampering to it. It says of 
 mirth, it is mad. Occupation and gain give it no 
 relief. Gain is a miserable substitute for godliness ; 
 and yet, how common a substitute it is ! Sometimes 
 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 91 
 
 insanely man tries to drink away care, attempting 
 to drown it in the intoxicating cup. He dances, 
 but it is in chains. He feasts, but it is in prison. 
 He returns from his bank, his shop, his counter, his 
 office ; from riots and indulgences. In all these he 
 is unsatisfied and hungry. Why ? The soul does 
 not want these, it craves God. It 
 
 Pants to.view his glorious face, 
 
 Upward tends to his abode, 
 To rest in his embrace. 
 
 The late Prince Albert, so beloved in England, 
 said on his deathbed to his physician : '' No, I am 
 not afraid ; I trust I am prepared for death. I have 
 wealth, and rank, and honour, and I thank God for 
 them ; but if these luere all, I should be a miserable 
 man.'' He continually repeated in his short illness 
 that hymn, 
 
 Kock of ages, cleft for me. 
 Let me hide myself in Thee. 
 
 The soul is never at rest until it is reconciled to 
 God through our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 From all this do not imagine that I believe the 
 world to be a desolate, forlorn spot. We come to 
 thorns and thistles as did our father Adam — by 
 our oivn sins. I have no sympathy with gloomy r 
 views of earth. It is much better than we deserve. ' 
 Much good can be had on it. Our blunders render 
 it far worse than it otherwise would be. " Sin de- 
 stroyeth much good." And an ungrateful and dis- 
 contented spirit may extract poison from the fairest 
 
92 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 flowers. I protest against this charging upon this 
 earth, that which is the consequence of man's own 
 forgetfulness of God. The way to enjoy the world 
 is not to^ervert its blessin^g^jioOSL^^'ttempt^to get 
 from it what can only be obtained from religion^ — 
 contentment d^ndi peace of mind. The fullest enjoy- 
 ment of this life is only secured in God and through 
 God. 
 
 As one goes through a round of pleasure, and 
 finds it all vanity, so men often wander from one 
 system of error to another, finding each unsatisfying. 
 Through the dismal swamps of Atheism, Pantheism, 
 and Universal Salvation, and many similar devices 
 of Satan, the soul travels seeking good. But all 
 are vain ; they are the heartless mockery of real 
 distress. They aggravate, they cannot alleviate. 
 The soul experiences a want which these have no 
 power to supply. The soul listens to their pompous 
 pretensions, their empty boasts, surveys the whole of 
 what they present ; tries them; worries through them, 
 and at last comes back to its unrelieved condition 
 of misery. Or if spared this desolate wandering, 
 the human heart tries various expedients ; such as 
 plans of personal amendment, and schemes of indi- 
 vidual virtue founded on human resolution and 
 strength. And then one false hope after another is 
 tested. There is a self-righteous confidence, a proud 
 and unbelieving spirit, a holding off from Christ. 
 In all these modes does the convicted sinner perish 
 with hunger. 
 
CONVICTION OF SIN. 93 
 
 Thus the Holy Spirit visits the lost one. He 
 knocks at the door of his heart. He opens his 
 eyes so that he sees. He recalls the words of God 
 taught long since by a mother. A forgotten sermon, 
 with its startling admonitions, speaks again from 
 the past. Convicted soul ! follow him ; he will lead 
 you to your God. He will teach your palsied lips 
 to pray. Smitten though you be with blindness ; 
 though you grope about and tremble, lest at any 
 moment you stumble into the pit, put forth your 
 hand and follow him. 
 
94 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 REPENTANCE. 
 
 I will arise and go to my father, and I will say 
 unto him : Father^ I have sinned against heaven and 
 lefore thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy 
 son ; make me as one of thy hired servants. And 
 he arose and came to his father. 
 
 In this most instructive fifteenth chapter of Luke 
 we have a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost man ; 
 all of which are intended to represent different 
 phases of man and God, as related to each other 
 in sin and redemption. Man is like a sheep astray ; 
 like a piece of money which has fallen among rub- 
 bish, or rolled out of sight ; like a foolish youth, 
 who leaves his father's house, and, ruled by passion, 
 rushes into a dissolute career, and spends all his 
 wealth and debases mind and body. And now, how 
 is he to get out of this f We are told how "the 
 sheep is found ; how the money is recovered ; and 
 also how man is to be reclaimed. 
 
 The awakened sinner knows that he is lost. 
 Already he has experienced that it is an evil thing, 
 and bitter to sin against the Lord his God. Misery 
 
REPENTANCE. 95 
 
 in himself, misery around him, misery in prospect, 
 are his portion. In this darkness which overspreads 
 him, one gleam of hope has begun to shine. It is 
 the twinkle of the Star^of^Bethlehem. Let him 
 fQ]law^Tt,^"aiid he shall be brought to the threshold 
 of heaven, and there receive a Father's bounty and 
 love. 
 
 But many refuse this " light shining in a dark 
 place." Rather than accept heaven's solution of 
 the most difficult of all questions — how man may be 
 justified before God — they attempt to solve it of 
 themselves. Some betake themselves to moral re- 
 formation ; and others to benevolent actions. I 
 knew a man who built a church at his own expense ; 
 and no doubt he expects the Lord to admit him to 
 heaven on that account, just as did those who cried, 
 " Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, 
 and in thy name done many wonderful works ?" and 
 yet he has not the love of God in his heart ; nor 
 does he profess to follow Christ. If man could 
 'purchase an entrance into heaven, multitudes of the 
 rich would be adherents of Christ. If, according to 
 Rome, a man could endow an institution, bequeath 
 a part of his fortune to the church ; be absolved by 
 a priest, receiving a wafer on his tongue, oil on his 
 ears, and man's breath into his nostrils, how much 
 less would the cross be shunned ! 
 
 Multitudes of minds are awake on the subject of 
 religion ; but never rightly guided, they struggle on 
 in all the energy of despair, gaining nothing and 
 
96 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 coming no nearer the true light. You see them in 
 the heathen workl, among the Mormons, among the 
 followers of the last deceiver who comes up, draw- 
 ing his inspiration from the pit. These poor victims 
 are earnest, deeply anxious, willing to do or suffer 
 anything to gain a substantial hope. Yet they 
 persistently, wilfully reject the gospel, which alone 
 is able to make them wise unto salvation. How 
 tenaciously men will cling to errors, and how shrewdly 
 they will defend them ! 
 
 That part of the prodigal's history presented in 
 this chapter, points out the onl^u^atli to heaven. It 
 sh(ms_Just what an awakened sinner mud do. All 
 other ways are side-paths, which terminate in heTT. 
 However proper they may seem ; however well re- 
 commended ; however plausibly teachers may trace 
 them out on paper, and to you may prove by their 
 lines, that these ways must end in heaven — they are 
 not only hypothetically but actually ial^Q ) io\\o\{ 
 them and you go on to certain ruin. 
 
 Let us travel along the path which the Prodigal 
 took. IIe--arose; "I will arise." In this terse 
 description this is not a useless word ; it denotes 
 action and determination. He would remain no 
 longer where he was. His purpose was fixed to 
 leave those swine, whether he ever bettered him- 
 self. 
 
 Such a resolve must come into the returning 
 sinner's heart. He must arise. He must not- ^it 
 bewailing his misery ; 'iiglTing over his wretched- 
 
REPENTANCE. 97 
 
 pess. IIe_must_.DQ.Lwisk. Liift&elf saved ; he must 
 arise. He must leave those sins and go to the cross, 
 where alone he can be unburdened. Many stay 
 months and even years in this sty of sin. They see, 
 they confess, their deplorable state ; but they will 
 not arise. We point them to the cross, but they 
 tell us they cannot get there. We urge them to 
 ask God's help, by prayer, and yet they remain 
 fixed, like the impotent man at Eethesda. The 
 sinner must arise. He must quit his sins. If any 
 object be too dear to forsake, then he must remain 
 among the swine ; and that sin, or that object which 
 he'cannot renounce, is the millstone which will sink 
 him to perdition. The sincere penitent " doth with 
 grief and hatred of his sin twrn^iom it unto God, 
 with full purpose of, and endeavour after, new 
 obedience." Thj^ unwillingness to part from sin is 
 evidence that the heart is not truly convinced. ^ 
 There are cells in it yet unopened by the Holy 
 Spirit. There is a frightfulness in sin which it has 
 not yet experienced. Lot's wife was loath to leave / 
 Sodom, and she never did in her heart ; and because 
 her heart was in Sodom, her body never reached a 
 place of safety. 
 
 *' I will arise." Noble resolve ! Let Satan hold 
 you no longer ! Let the world attract you no more ! 
 Let not that deceitful heart detain you ! Arise 
 from thy sins ; from thy despondency ; from thy 
 delay. And whither shall I go ? To the Father. " I 
 will arise and go to ray father," said the Prodigal. 
 
98 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 Surely that heart is now touched, subdued, melted. 
 He remembers the father's love, and tenderness, and 
 ^-sympathy. The filial feeling, so long dormant, is 
 Inow awakened. He will go to the one whom he has 
 injured, despised ; and whose authority he spurned. 
 And we should go to the God whose commands 
 we have set at naught all our lives ; to him who is 
 pleased to allow us to call him our Father. Yes ! 
 we have a Father and a home. Though we may 
 / have wandered long, and sinned grievously, we are 
 not orphans, nor homeless. There is a shelter for 
 -~ our souls. There is a God ready to be reconciled to 
 us through Jesus Christ. And that Father tells us 
 how willing he is to receive us. In this respect, the 
 sinner is more favoured than was the prodigal. He 
 knew not the reception he should meet. He could 
 only hope for the best. But the offer of mercy and 
 pardon is made in advance to the children of men. 
 Then why not go to God ? are not the invitations as 
 'pressing as language can make them ? as warm as a 
 Father's love can render them ? " Him that coraeth 
 unto me I will in no wise cast out." " The blood 
 . of ~ Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth from all sin.'* 
 Can we not trust in that love, mercy, and pardon, 
 which are pledged in the death of Jesus Christ ? 
 The Saviour has paved the way for reconciliation. 
 Every barrier he has removed. An eastern pro- 
 verb says, " If man draws near to God an inch, 
 God will draw near to him an ell." God sees us afar 
 oiT. Every sinner must go to Qod) with '' grief and 
 
REPENTANCE. 99 
 
 hatred of his sin, he must turn from it unto God.'' 
 Cain and Judas saw their sin ; they grieved over 
 them, but they never went to God. Judas hung 
 hiii3sdf;_jCain .became a fugitive and a vagabond. 
 Djivid saw Ms sin ; he grieved over it; he hated it; 
 but he went to his closet, and besought in tears 
 God's forgiveness. Then, start at once to this lov- 
 ing Father. It is a decision upon which everything 
 may depend. Instantly arise and go ; and however 
 helpless you are, God will bestow the power to carry 
 it out. Nothing can be more simple, nothing more 
 effective and real, than the determination and choice, 
 "I will arise and go to my Father.'' 
 
 " Often the difficulty in the way hangs upon some 
 single fact in life which has been a controlling one 
 — some one remaining hostility in the pride of the 
 heart, which refuses to yield — and in the severing 
 of that, the choice may be made free. I recall to 
 mind a very interesting and attractive young man 
 who sought me once for religious guidance. He 
 had been gay, self-indulgent, and living without 
 God, but he was now awakened and serious, yet 
 hesitating and proud. His wife he described to me. 
 as a Christian woman : but he acknowledijed him- 
 self a neglecter of God's salvation, yet now desiring 
 to find the way of peace. Our conversation occu- 
 pied a long evening. At last I said, ' Now go home, 
 take your stand for Christ to-night ; tell your wife 
 that the time past of your life has been enough for 
 sin, and that you now mean to live for Christ, and 
 
100 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 seek the kingdom of God. Kneel down with her, 
 and begin your united prayer to-night. Will you 
 do this?' 'No,' he replied, 'I cannot.' I remon- 
 strated and entreated in vain ; he was immovable. 
 I then said to him, ' I have nothing more to say,' 
 and for some minutes we sat in silence. I resumed 
 the book which I had been reading, but presently 
 repeated the question, and was again refused. After 
 some minutes' further delay, he rose from his seat 
 and sighed deeply. I saw the tears starting from 
 his eyes, and I asked the same question again. He 
 replied, ' I will,' and immediately left my house. 
 The next evening I saw this young man coming 
 into our lecture-room with a young woman leaning 
 on his arm, whom I had often marked there before, 
 as a stranger and a woman of a sorrowful spirit. 
 They came to the front seat immediately before me, 
 and kneeled together in silent prayer. At the][ close 
 of our worship I approached them, and he intro- 
 duced his wife to me. I told her what he had 
 promised me the night before, and asked, ' Did he 
 do it ?' She answered me, ' Yes, he did.' I turned 
 to him and said, ' And how do you feel to-night ?' 
 < Sir,' he exclaimed, ' I am the happiest man in the 
 city of Philadelphia.' For several years this young 
 man walked as a useful, active follower of Christ, 
 highly valued and much beloved. He closed his 
 pilgrimage in a rapid consumption. On one occa- 
 sion near his death I said to him, ' Do you remem- 
 ber the evening when you first came to my study ?* 
 
REPENTANCE. 101 
 
 * Remember it !' said he ; ^ I shall never forget it 
 throughout eternity. It Tvas the birthday of my 
 soul.' He raised his feeble hands as he spoke, and 
 clasping them together, covered his face, and burst 
 into tears."* 
 
 The third feature of the prodigal's return now de- 
 mands our attention — Ids confession of sin. " Father, 
 I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and 
 am no more worthy to be called thy son." Most 
 touching words ! What thorough humiliation do 
 they evidence ! How changed that younger son ! 
 Proud spirited, impatient of a most salutary con- 
 trol, with the flush of youth on his cheek, and his 
 bones full of marrow, he w^ent out of that gate. 
 Behold him now, dirty, ragged, the lines of dissipa- 
 tion furrowed on his countenance, and his body a 
 wreck ! And yet he is a better man. He is more 
 lovely. There is more hope of him now. For he 
 is better at heart. He comes home for forgiveness. 
 He sees his error. Hear him. " I have lost my 
 character of a son, for I have disgraced my father ; 
 I have dishonoured my family. Shall it be known 
 that I, in these rags, am his son ? How can I main- 
 tain the dignity of the house, for I am a beggar ? 
 How can I, who have been a companion of swine, 
 sit at my father's table ?" 
 
 With such a spirit, the repenting sinner comes to 
 God. He is a son, but a son who has lost the like- 
 ness. Can the Father recognize his child, in that 
 
 * Dr. Tyng. 
 9 ♦ 
 
102 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 object which draws near him ? Shall so sinful a 
 creature be made an inmate of his house ? " I have 
 sinned^'' confesses the penitent. Oh what a word 
 that is ! How far reaching ! How deep down it 
 goes ! It is one of those phrases which expresses 
 volumes. You write the history of man's entire 
 earthly course in those three words. '' I have sin- 
 ned." It is the heart breaking. It is the heart 
 pouring itself out like water before God. It is the 
 language which every penitent sinner has used from 
 age to age. It has been repeated in all tongues. 
 The penitent cannot set before God the details of 
 his sinfulness. Nor is it required. This one ex- 
 pression is enough. God knows all our sins, far 
 more accurately than we can. He wants the con- 
 fession. He wants that humbled heart from which 
 it comes. Notice that the son says nothing in his 
 justification. He does not begin — " Father, you 
 know that youth is restive, and hankers after for- 
 bidden pleasures. I was led away by the power of 
 wealth. Wicked associates, with whom unfortunate- 
 ly I went, enticed me. In a moment of passion I 
 left you." No ! Nothing of this sort. But in 
 deep abasement he exclaims, " I have sinned." How 
 different this from the attempt of Adam to shift the 
 blame off his own head ! 
 
 Now this is a vital point in our repentance. There 
 must be no make-shifts with God. We must not 
 attempt to crawl out of some of our sins, by putting 
 them on father Adam. There must be no puling 
 
REPENTANCE. 103 
 
 sentlmentalism about the frailtj of human nature. 
 There must be no plea that we tried to do the best 
 we could. We may not skulk behind the unfavour- 
 able circumstances that surrounded us. We must 
 not even look askant at the sins of Christians. No ! 
 none of these must be resorted to. But there must 
 be an honest, hearty, out-spoken, whole-souled con- 
 fession — zl have sinned. "A broken and a contrite 
 
 heart," God must have. 
 
 And now one step more remains. The prodigal 
 implores pardon. '' Make me as one of thy hired 
 servants." I am aware that these words are often, 
 perhaps generally, understood to refer to a desire 
 in the prodigal to have his sincerity tested. He 
 wished to serve under his father, that by his faith- 
 fulness he might regain paternal confidence. But 
 I shall employ this request in another way — to sig- 
 nify his desire to be received into that family, of 
 which once he was a member. He felt that he could 
 not ask to come in as a son ; for he had shown him- 
 self unfit to be a son ; yet the next highest happi- 
 ness would be to serve as a hired man. For the 
 word does not mean a slave, as in the 22d verse. 
 He desired to be where that father was, to see his 
 face, to hear his voice; even though it should be as 
 a^ervant. And the burden of the penitent is to 
 have his guilt removed. He craves the blessed 
 words—" Thy sms, which are many, are forgiven 
 thee." He longs to see that Father's face, and en- 
 joy his favour. Oh how the penitent watches for 
 
104 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 these tokens ! Day and night he cries out for them. 
 *' Oh that I knew that my father had forgiven me !" 
 Need I guard against a wrong impression? Have 
 I said so much about the sinner's doing, that Christ 
 is lost sight of ? Then let me state plainly. It is 
 not our penitence, nor anguish, nor confession of 
 sin, nor even the coming to the Father, which ob- 
 tain pardon. That is secured only by the atone- 
 ment of our Lord and Saviour. We must keep him 
 in view each step we take. Jesus makes us wel- 
 come. Jesus has made return possible. And yet 
 we must arise, and go to Him. 
 
 The prodigal said, I will arise and go to my 
 / father : and he went. But with many, between this 
 saying and the actual doing, there is a long stand- 
 ing still : and in the case of numbers, irresolution 
 and a turning back again. Multitudes of the hearers 
 of the gospel are in this state of mind, probably 
 many perish just in this way. They are thoroughly 
 convinced of their personal duty, as presented in 
 the claims and promises of the gospel. But convic- 
 tion is not conversion. Conviction is a mere know- 
 ledge of facts — a knowledge of sin. Its value 
 depends on what it leads to. The enemy may come 
 and remove all these convictions, lead away to sin, 
 overwhelm with delusions, or ensnare in worldliness. 
 To go to God, and be sheltered by him is the only 
 security. The object of conviction of sin, is the 
 heart's return to God. Complete submission to him 
 is its end. He requii'es instant obedience. Delay 
 
REPENTANCE. 105 
 
 is_chosen disobedience; and more fearful is the 
 punishment. While men wait, new difficulties and 
 objections are started in their minds ; the work 
 growsjmore severe every day. Reader, you will 
 never settle this matter by argument and discussion. 
 There must be decision and action. You must arise 
 and go to Christ. 
 
 "A young man of wealth and means was occupied 
 in a large commercial office. He had been gay, 
 volatile, and thoughtless. He had never yielded to 
 the temptations of vice, or wandered in the paths 
 of outward immorality. But his youth had passed 
 without religion, and his maturity had opened with 
 no promise of improvement. He was suddenly ar- 
 rested in his bed with a conviction which seemed to 
 charge him with the guilt of a wasted life, and a 
 course of constant neglect of the God who had 
 made and blessed him. The past of his career was 
 all dissatisfying. The world which he had loved 
 and tried, was a wide-spread famine around him, 
 ajid 'he began to be in want.' The sudden convic- 
 tion was succeeded by an instant purpose of return 
 to the God whom he had despised. 'I will waste no 
 more,' he said within himself, and rose immediately 
 from his bed, and bowed his knees upon the floor in 
 prayer. * He arose and went to his Father,' in an 
 instant action of his own heart and mind. And 
 the conflict was ended. He went on his way rejoic- 
 ing from that hour. Hardly minutes of mere con- 
 viction passed. His heart at once embraced the 
 
106 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 remedy. He saw the way of hope, and he laid hold 
 of it."* 
 
 A Judge of the Supreme Court in one of the 
 sea-board States, was brought in humble penitence 
 to the foot of the cross. He sought to be admitted 
 to the communion of that church where he had 
 been a worshipper. As he entered the consistory 
 room, where the elders of the church were convened 
 to receive applicants for admission to their commu- 
 nion, he exclaimed, "I will arise and go to my 
 Father, and will say unto him, Father, I have 
 sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no 
 more worthy to be called thy son," and then he 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Beautiful words are these! Hea,vep^own lit- 
 urgy in which to confess ! None but Jesus our 
 High Priest, our Advocate, could frame so exquisite 
 a conjiteor. In all time penitents will pour out their 
 hearts in this sublime sentence. 
 
 ♦ Dr. Tyng. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 107 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 
 
 But when he was yet a great way off, his father 
 saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on 
 his neck and kissed him. And the son said unto 
 him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and in 
 thy sight, and am no more worthy to he called thy 
 son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth 
 the best robe and put it on him ; and put a ring on 
 his hand, and shoes on his feet : and bring hither 
 the fatted calf and kill it; and let us eat and be 
 merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; 
 he was lost and is found. And they began to be 
 merry. Now his elder son was in the field ; and as 
 he came and dreiv nigh to the house, he heard music 
 and dancing. 
 
 THEjsonfession of this younger son was no shrewd 
 artifice, whereby to melt an obdurate father. It 
 came out of his penitent heart, for he makes his 
 confession after the manifestations of a father's 
 tenderness— ^/ife2L.ihe_.,embrace and the kiss which 
 denoted reconciliation. Thougli thus graciously 
 
108 THE PRODIGAL SON". 
 
 received, he does not omit the confession — I have 
 sinned — upon which he had determined. Un- 
 doubtedly that confession was all the more deep, 
 because of this unexpected forgiveness. 
 
 There has been a question raised, whether repen- 
 tance is the act of the coiiverted man or of the sin- 
 ner ; whether a man does truly repent until he is 
 converted. This narrative shows the correct view. 
 Repentance_5?^^s when jvie_ are in the far off 
 country, wallowing in our wretchedness; \t increases 
 as we go on to our Father ; and it attains its 'perfec- 
 tion when the kiss of reconciliation is printed on the 
 broWj, I say reaches its peifection, not its end. For 
 repentance is never absent, as an act of the renewed 
 heart. Since the more we know and taste of the 
 love of God, the more we grieve ever to have sinned 
 against that love. So that we may safely say, that 
 the truest and best repentance /oZ^oz^'S, but does not 
 p-ecede the sense of forgiveness. The repentance 
 which precedes may be characterized by more agony., 
 yet it is less rich, clear, and melting. The reception 
 of the prodigal, as illustrating the sinner received 
 by our heavenly Father, exhibits — tlie Divine mercy 
 toward man ; his reinstatement into the privileges of 
 a son of God; and the joy caused by the conversion 
 of men. 
 
 3Ian is an object of divine mercy. This could 
 not be set forth more affectingly than it is in the 
 actions of the father. For^^ars his heart had 
 yearned over that wandering child. He had prayed 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 109 
 
 for his^ return and recovery. And lo ! he approaches 
 the house. The father waits not in silent reserve, 
 to test the genuineness of his penitence, as Joseph 
 did that of his brethren. He flies to meet him. He 
 does not recoil from the swinish reek, which even 
 this distance has not dispelled. He does not draw 
 back with dignity from the tattered, bloated beggar. 
 He is not ashamed to embrace him in the public 
 way.* Without waiting for a word of explanation, 
 he Tails onTis neclc and kisses him tenderly. His 
 w^ole soul is moved within him. For the expres- 
 sion, " had compassion on him," does not convey 
 the richness of the original. It was not mere pity, 
 as we have compassion on an outcast ; the word de- 
 notes the whole emotional nature of man, as it shows 
 itself in love, kindness, and generosity. This was 
 moved into its liveliest exercise, and was wrought 
 up into a powerful passion. And that kiss was not 
 only a token of affection, but a pledge of reconcilia- 
 tion. It was such a kiss as Esau gave Jacob, when 
 they met after years of angry separation — a kiss 
 denoting that all past hatred and differences were 
 cancelled. 
 
 Now all this is a meagre draft of God's love to 
 man. For there is this vital difference, that when 
 the divine mercy was exhibited in the plan of re- 
 demption, man had not taken tlie first step toivard 
 return. He was living in sin. He had not come 
 to himself. He had not resolved to go to his Father. 
 
 • Stier's "Words of Jesus. 
 10 
 
110 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 And what shall we say of God's love in the gift of 
 Jesus Christ ? Nothing in the acts of the prodigal's 
 father corresponds to that. 
 
 AVe might assert that man is the object of divine 
 mercy. We know of no other creature towards 
 whom God has so exhibited mercy. His love to us 
 was free and sovereign. What are men compared 
 to angels, seraphs, cherubs ? Might he not have 
 sent sinning Adam headlong to the pit, as he sent 
 the rebels of heaven before him ; and have made 
 another man, and another race ? What caused the 
 difference ? Divine mercy. If the fallen angels 
 are monuments, to the entire universe, and through- 
 out all eternity, of Grod's justice ; certainly man is 
 a monument of God's mercy ^ to the entire universe, 
 and throughout all eternity. J'^iice. is. written on 
 the brow of every lost spirit ; mercy is engraved 
 on the golden crown of every saint in heaven. 
 
 The repeMing sinner is reinstated as a son of Grod. 
 The highest expectation of the prodigal had been 
 that he might become a hired servant. And if he 
 was amazed at the cordial greeting, that amazement 
 must have transcended all bounds, when " the father 
 said to his servants. Bring forth the best robe, and 
 put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand, and 
 shoes on his feet ; and bring hither the fatted calf, 
 and kill it, and let us eat and be merry ; for this 
 7)iy son was dead and is alive again ; he was lost and 
 is found." My son ! Not the mere words, but those 
 acts make him such — the rohe, the ring, the shoes. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. Ill 
 
 Here we have the taking back of the penitent. 
 By repentance and faith in Christ, man comes back 
 to his home — to his father. This is his proper place. 
 Here are the objects he ought to love. This is the 
 being to whom he should yield obedience. But how 
 wonderful that he should be exalted to become an 
 inmate of God's family ! an heir! a joint heir with 
 Christ ! How great the dignity conferred on re- 
 penting man ! Well may we be surprised at that 
 superabounding grace, which did not stay at bring- 
 ing us into heaven, but has advanced us to glory and 
 honour there. In that blissful home, ransomed sin- 
 ners might have dwelt by themselves, as did Israel 
 in Egypt ; and then we should be constrained to 
 praise God for this grace. But not so. Saints, who 
 once were full of sin and corruption, cluster about 
 the throne, mingle with angels, and follow " the 
 Lamb whithersoever he goeth." 
 
 This unexpected and speedy replacement of the 
 younger son was not a hasty act, which the too 
 kind father should have deferred awhile. He saw 
 that the son was fitted for this restoration. He was 
 another man. The father saw the filial spirit, which 
 never before was possessed. He was more truly a 
 son, than when first introduced to us. 
 
 And in like manner the penitent believer is pre- 
 pared to be a son. He has a new heart. Another 
 spirit is within him. He now acknowledges God's 
 claims. He cheerfully submits to his rule. He 
 esteems his commandments concerning all things to 
 
112 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 be right. Sinful indulgences are loathed. His 
 heart is better. Manj of the unclean beasts have 
 been expelled. The Holy Spirit is there. Sweet 
 thoughts of heaven are there. In him abideth the 
 love of God. His nature is changed. He is becom- 
 ing sanctified. Thus is he fit for the church here, 
 and the church above. 
 
 But let us consider more in detail the several acts 
 of this re-establishment of the prodigal; and that 
 which is signified by them in the returning sinner. 
 There was a robe to cover, a ring to honour, and shoes 
 to 'protect. 
 
 A robe to cover. — " Bring forth the best robe and 
 put it on him." Opulent families in the East kept 
 a large supply of garments. These have been 
 known to number several thousands. Much of their 
 wealth consisted in them. These garments were for 
 the use of guests. And I suppose the custom pre- 
 vailed for this reason : Travelling in those coun- 
 tries was mostly performed on foot ; consequently 
 very little, if indeed any extra clothing could be 
 carried. A traveller's garments, therefore, would 
 soon become greatly soiled, and unfit to come in 
 contact with the soft mats or dwains in a room. As 
 the opulent were the entertainers of respectable 
 travellers, they kept garments for their use. And 
 in their weddings and convivial entertainments, it 
 was the custom to provide each invited guest with 
 SLSuitable robe. The father directs his servants to 
 this wardrobe. But mark the emphasis. He does 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 113 
 
 not say, bring out a robe; but tlie robe, the best 
 robe. The choicest of his whole wardrobe was to 
 be put on this former vagrant. 
 
 This at once suggests to us the robe of Christ's 
 righteousness, with which the sinner is clothed. For 
 the justification of the believing sinner is compared 
 to a robe. "He hath clothed me with the garments 
 of praise, he hath covered me with the robe of 
 righteousness." ^Is^lxi. 10. " I counsel thee to buy 
 of me white raiment that thou majest be clothed." 
 Rev. iii. 18. " And to her [the church] was granted 
 that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and 
 white ; for the fine linen is the righteousness of 
 saints." Rev. xix. 8. This righteousness is the 
 atonement, whereby the Lord Jesus made propitia- 
 tion for sin. Ver}'' aptly is this compared to a robe. 
 A robe covers a person, hides deformity, or maim- 
 ing. On that prodigal's body may have been the 
 scars and ulcers of sin. His return had not eradi- 
 cated them from his system. But the garment con- 
 cealed them. And the believer is not rendered a 
 perfect man by his repentance and faith. He has 
 a different spirit and a better hearty yet many an old 
 Bore remains, which will trouble him as long as he 
 lives. But for all that he is a son ; and clothed in 
 the righteousness of his Saviour, he is regarded as 
 without spot or blemish. All his defects are covered, 
 his sins are cancelled, and no more brought to no- 
 tice. Christ's righteousness, the robe, is that at 
 which God looks, and he is satisfied. 
 10 • 
 
114 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 The prodigal is clothed with the robe, the most 
 costly of all in the house. And it is the most pre- 
 cious robe in Jehovah's realm, which clothes the 
 returning sinner. " For we are not redeemed with 
 silver and gold, but with the i)recioushlood of Christ^'' 
 who being the eternal son of God died for us. This 
 is no ordinary robe. It is more than a heavenly 
 robe ; it is godly. It is not the robe of an angel, 
 but of a God. It is that robe, which our loving 
 Father has preserved from all eternity. For from 
 the bosom of the Father came this Redeemer. It 
 is the righteousness of a God, who became man, 
 which acquits the believer from the penalty of the 
 law. Just here we encounter Christ in this parable. 
 Many attempts have been made to explain the ab- 
 sence of a reference to the mediating propitiation 
 of the Son of God. But this mediation is no more 
 denied by silence, than is the seduction of Satan 
 denied, because no mention is made of it in the 
 apostasy of the sinner, as described by the follies 
 of the younger son. Christ and the Father are one 
 here, as they are in heaven. And sufficiently for 
 the purpose, is the mediation of the gospel typified 
 in that best, long-reserved robe. 
 
 A ring ivas placed upon his finger. To give a 
 ring was a -mark of affection, as with us. Also by 
 it office was conferred. When Joseph had inter- 
 preted Pharaoh's dream, that monarclTtook the ring 
 off his own finger, and put it on Joseph's ; and 
 arrayed him in vestures of fine linen ; and thus he 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 115 
 
 was advanced to the highest office in the land. 
 Likewise upon the advancement of ]\ Iordec ai, the 
 king gave him the ring, which he had taken from 
 Haman, when that man was deprived of his office. 
 These rings were generally signet-rings, by which 
 documents could be sealed in the king's name. The 
 giving the ring to the prodigal, denoted his perma- 
 nent re-establishment in his father's house. 
 
 And thus permanently is the believer established 
 in the family of God. He is adopted. The pres- 
 ence of the Holy Ghost in his heart, by whom he is 
 sealed unto the day of redemption, is the ring of 
 adoption ; or, as Paul says, speaking of this Father 
 — " who hath also sealed us, and given the earnest 
 o£- the Spirit in our hearts," 2 Cor. i. 22. The be- 
 liever is not his own, but God's ; he obeys him. By 
 bringing forth fruits meet for repentance he is doing 
 the will of his Father in heaven. Well may the 
 adopted child of God exclaim, in the language of 
 the faithful in Isaiah, " I will greatly rejoice in the 
 Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God ; for he 
 hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he 
 hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as 
 a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and 
 as a bride adorneth herself with her jewels." Isaiah 
 Ixi. 10. 
 
 ''''Put shoes on Ms feet ^'^ said the father. The 
 son returned without shoes. When, therefore, the 
 father commanded them to be put on, it was carry- 
 ing out still further his intention not to treat that 
 
116 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 son as a servant ; for they did not wear shoes. This 
 adds another to the images which signify that God 
 will treat with kindness and affection those who 
 return to him. Or, as the Psalmist has it, " The_ 
 Lord will withhold no good thing from those who 
 walk uprightly." Shoes were to protect the feet; 
 and God protects his returning children. They 
 need it. The devil tries hard to get them back. 
 Many will be the temptations to leave the Father. 
 Nature is only imperfectly renewed ; its propensi- 
 ties are still depraved. A deceitful heart may yet 
 lead astray. The believer needs this protecting 
 power of God, that the work of sanctification may 
 progress in the soul. And so, perhaps, without 
 attempting a fanciful interpretation, w^e may say, 
 that as the robe represents justification, and the 
 ring represents adoption, the shoes also represent 
 sanctification. Because it is by the protection ajid 
 assistance of the Holy Ghost that the believer ad- 
 vances in holiness. Possessed of this, the work is 
 sure. He is unconquerable. God has given the 
 complete armour. 
 
 " There's not a chain, 
 That hellish foes confederate for his harm, 
 Can wind around him, but he casts it off 
 "With as much ease as Samson his green withes." 
 
 The reception of the prodigal caused rejoicing in 
 that family. And in accordance with human nature, 
 2, feast was made to express the joy at his return. 
 For by festivity do men express their gladness. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 117 
 
 "Bring hither the fatted calf and kill it; and let 
 us eat and be merrj." The wealthier husbandmen 
 "were provided with fatted calves, to meet any sud- 
 den and extraordinary call upon their hospitality. 
 Veal was reckoned a great delicacy among the 
 Orientals; taking very much the place of poultry 
 with us. 
 
 The occasion was also made gleeful by music and 
 dancing. And does our Lord by this sanction 
 dancing ? Does he pronounce anything in its favour 
 by the connection in which he puts it ? This des- 
 cription by no means opens up the lawfulness, or 
 unlawfulness, of dancing as we understand it. For 
 the whole question may be dismissed by a single 
 statement. The dancing here alluded to, was not 
 of that kind with which we are familiar. For the 
 dances of the Jews were performed by the sexes 
 separately. There is no evidence from Sacred 
 History that the diversion was promiscuously en- 
 joyed, except it may be at the erection of the 
 golden calf at Sinai, when, in imitation of the 
 Egyptian festival of Apis, all classes of tlie He- 
 brews intermingled in the frantic revelry. In the 
 sacred dances, although both sexes seem to have 
 borne a part in the procession or chorus, they re- 
 mained in distinct or separate companies. This 
 feature is retained in those dances which form a 
 part of the worship of the Shaking Quakers. Not- 
 withstanding the strong partiality cherished for this 
 amusement, it was considered beneath the dignity 
 
118 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 of persons of rank and character to practise it. The 
 words of Cicero — " that no one dances unless he is 
 either drunk or mad," express the prevailing 
 opinion as to the impropriety of respectable per- 
 sons taking part in it. TJie_Jews left dancing to 
 the women, who made it an especial mode of ex- 
 pressing their feelings. Hence, companies of 
 women would, by dancing around a returning army, 
 express their joy at their safe return. The gay 
 circles of Rome and its provinces derived all their 
 entertainment, as is done in the East to this day, 
 from the exhibition of professional dancers.* Did 
 modern society thus hire the dancers as well as the 
 music, many troubled consciences would have rest. 
 From all this it will be perceived that dancing on 
 this festive occasion of the prodigal's return, makes 
 nothing for the practice among us. 
 
 But the idea conveyed is this — the return of that 
 younger son caused great joy. And so we believe 
 there is joy at the return of the sinner to God. It 
 is worthy of notice, that joy over the lost found 
 constitutes the closing scene of each parable. The 
 man who lost his sheep, when he cometh home, " call- 
 eth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto 
 them. Rejoice with me ; for I have found my. sheep 
 which was lost." The woman, who had lost the 
 piece of money, " calleth her friends and her neigh- 
 bours together, saying. Rejoice with me ; for I have 
 found the piece which I had lost. Likewise, I say un- 
 
 * Kitto's Cyclopedia, and Smith's Dictionary of the Bible. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 119 
 
 to you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of 
 God over one sinner that repenteth." But how do the 
 anorels know when a sinner is converted from the 
 error of his ways ? Is the announcement made in 
 the heavenly region ? We may not speculate on 
 these things. We must not attempt to uncover what 
 God has hidden. Our place now is in the outer 
 court, among the earthly worshippers ; when we en- 
 ter the Holy of Holies, we shall understand all about 
 this joy. But one valuable truth is certainly pre- 
 sented by all these exhibitions of joy — viz : the 
 conversion of one. sou\ is a matter of the utmost 
 IMPORTANCE. And this harmonizes with the teach- 
 ings of Scripture, which impress on us the value of 
 even one human being in the sight of God. And 
 in no language is this presented, more penetrating, 
 than in the sublime question of our Lord — " What 
 shall it profit a man, though he gain the whole world, 
 and lose his own soul ; or what shall a man give in 
 exchange for his soul!" Christianity attaches a 
 value to the individual, which is found in no other 
 religion. It does not absorb him in one all-com- 
 prehending Deity ; nor does it make him, as in Pan- 
 theism, like one cog in a great wheel of humanity. 
 He is himself now, and ever shall be. And there- 
 fore God prizes him, even as He does an angel. 
 Hence arises the ardent zeal of Christianity for 
 every soul — no matter how degraded, ignorant, or 
 besotted. For it sees in that soul a priceless jewel. 
 And therefore it pants to put it in Jesus' crown. 
 
120 THE PRODIQAL SOX. 
 
 And it must ever make superhuman effort to save 
 every creature. Nor can it cease, until all nations 
 are brought home again. Here is the spirit of 
 missions. Tins is its fountain head. 
 
 Heaven rejoices and so does the converted soul. 
 God gladdens the heart of the returning sinner. 
 As the prodigal sat at that reunion feast, he found 
 its merriness affording far richer joj than he had 
 experienced in all his riotous living. And as the 
 believer receives the tokens of God's favour in his 
 heart, he prizes the few hours of this peace and joy 
 in believing, more than all the pleasures of the world. 
 Religion is a continual feast to his soul. To pray 
 and praise is a most delightful employment. The 
 soul, tossed by convictions of sin, now anchors in 
 the quiet waters of God's reconciliation. The 
 clouds roll away. The sun shines. All nature is 
 joyous. Everything wears a new aspect. Nature 
 even seems more significant ; for every part of it 
 has something to say to him of the love and good- 
 ness of God. 
 
 «' Oh I what tongue can express 
 The sweet comfort and peace 
 Of a soul in its earliest love ? 
 
 Oh ! the rapturous height 
 
 Of that holy delight, 
 "Which I felt in the life-giving blood ! 
 
 Of my Saviour possessed, 
 
 I was perfectly blessed, 
 As if filled with the fulness of God. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECEIVED AND WELCOME. 121 
 
 Then all the day long, 
 
 Was my Jesus niy song, 
 And redemption through faith in his name : 
 
 Oh that all might believe, 
 
 And salvation receive, 
 And their song and their joy be the same !" 
 
 It may be, dear reader, that with a sigh you ex- 
 claim, such a glorious and loving reception, so 
 speedy and so full, I never experienced with all my 
 repentance. Yet you need not despair of attaining 
 it. Nor should you write bitter things against 
 yourself. Think less of your sins, and more of 
 Jesus. Lol where stood that mountain of sin, the 
 cross is now planted. "Often the heart may be 
 right, earnest, sincerely loving God, while the mind 
 may be much clouded, and the heavenly light seem 
 but the merest dawn upon the soul. But the soul 
 willing to receive Jesus as the way, and to be satis- 
 fied with him ; as its truth, and to be contented 
 therewith ; as its life, and to rejoice therein, in the 
 spirit of trusting, choosing love, — is surely safe, 
 and surely right, however obscure may be some of 
 its views, and however short of the truth may be 
 some of its conclusions. Jesus will not break the 
 bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. The 
 one he will bind up and strengthen, the other he will 
 fan into a bright flame. Your heart may be ready 
 to sink with fears. You may ask a hundred times, 
 if I am truly loving and seeking God, why am I 
 thus ? But you are under Divine guidance, and on 
 a new and heavenward path. Intermit none of your 
 11 
 
122 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 religious duties. Praise God with the best powers 
 you have. Love him, and go tell him you love him. 
 Trust him, and doubt not his readiness to bless you. 
 Believe in Jesus Christ. Take the Lord as he is 
 offered to you in his word. Make him your only 
 portion. And however weak your faith may be, it 
 is that faith which is the gift of God ; which is real 
 and failcth not."* 
 
 • Dr. Tvnsr. 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 123 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 
 
 Koiv his elder son was in the field; and as he 
 came and drew nigh to the house, he heard music 
 and dancing. And he called one of the servants 
 and asked what these things meant. And he said 
 unto him, Thy brother is come ; and thy father hath 
 hilled the fatted calf , because he hath received him 
 safe and sound. And he was angry and would not 
 go in; therefore came his father out and entreated 
 him. And he answering said to his father, Lo, these 
 many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I 
 at any time thy commandment ; and yet thou never 
 gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my 
 friends ; hut as soon as this thy son ivas come, which 
 hath devoured thy living ivith harlots, thou hast killed 
 for him the fatted calf . And he said unto him. Son, 
 thou art ever ivith me ; and all that I have is thine. 
 It ivas meet that we should make merry and he glad ; 
 for this thy brother was dead and is alive again ; 
 and was lost and is found. 
 
 At the opening of this parable of the Prodigal 
 Son, we are informed, " A certain man had two 
 
124 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 sons.*' The history of the younger we have con- 
 cluded. Now that of the other opens. And what 
 part does he bear ? How are we to explain his de- 
 meanour ? It has a meaning ; for it is more than the 
 mere filling up. 
 
 Many have been the puzzling questions raised 
 over it. Undoubtedly the primary design was to 
 rebuke the Pharisees, who complained that publicans 
 and sinners came freely to Christ. They could not 
 but apply to themselves the heartless and supercil- 
 ious conduct of the elder brother. We may under- 
 stand that the younger son personates the Gentiles, 
 while the elder represents the Jews ; but does it 
 reach no wider ? Or has it a never-failing applica- 
 tion ? As we discover the prodigal in every place, 
 in every man, at some time of his history ; can we 
 not discover also this elder son ? Errors have arisen 
 from a desire to explain details of this portion of 
 the parable. Some of the details are merely the 
 earthly picture, the pigment, with which we need 
 not expect anything in the moral or religious to 
 correspond. Let us rather inquire what is the main 
 idea. And as a necessary and preparatory step, let 
 us regard the import of the whole parable. What- 
 ever it may have been to those who heard it from 
 our Lord's lips, certainly to us it can have but one 
 purport. It is a life-sketch of 7nan sinning and 
 God receiving him ; how man is to come, and how 
 God receives him. It is sin and redemption in epi- 
 tome. The whole, therefore, must have a bearing 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 125 
 
 on this subject — tlie elder son equally with the 
 younger. While the wandering of that youth fur- 
 nishes an apt illustration of the apostasy and de- 
 generacy of man ; he particularly personifies the 
 open and covert transgressor. Now, is there any 
 otjier class among us to be represented ? Certainly. 
 Are there not in all communities the moral and up- 
 right, against whom not even suspicion breathes a 
 word ? Are there not those who can say as did the 
 youth to our Lord, *' All these [commandments] 
 have I kept from my youth up;" and concerning 
 whom Christ can reply, " Thou art not far from the 
 kingdom of heaven?" To me the elder son is an 
 apt illustration of this class, of those who are de- 
 nominated moral men, as distinguished from the 
 pious man. In old theology these were termed 
 legalists — those striving to reach heaven by their 
 own goodness. My object now is to trace out the 
 resemblance between the elder son and this class. 
 
 A prominent fact in regard to the elder son was, 
 that he remained at home. No demon of discontent 
 had allured him away from the father's house. He 
 seems to have been dutiful and industrious. He 
 was at work in the fields, taking care of his father's 
 estate, when the prodigal came home. In like man- 
 ner with this class I have mentioned ; they have 
 not tarnished their characters ; they have main- 
 tained a fair name. Into no paths of vice, or of 
 improper conduct have they wandered ; they have 
 remained at home ; and in a measure have been 
 11 * 
 
126 THB PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 zealous for God's cause, and for the advancement 
 of religion, purity, and all the virtues. Largely 
 they have contributed to the support and extension 
 of the gospel — much more, many of them, than have 
 the majority of the professed followers of Christ. 
 Even the church herself has leaned upon them. 
 They love us, and have built us synagogues. Noble 
 men they are ! Most praise-worthy is their con- 
 duct ! We cannot help asking, what would the 
 church do without them? Their loss would be as 
 deeply felt, as would have been the absence of the 
 elder brother from that household. 
 
 But though he remained at home, he hgd^not the 
 spirit of a son nor of a brother. His demeanour was 
 correct. Men could discern no fault. He had not 
 been guilty of the excesses w'hich disgraced the 
 younger son ; yet at heart he was no better than 
 that wanderer had been. For see how he acted. 
 As he approached the house, he heard the sounds 
 of festivity. He inquired what it meant. A ser- 
 vant informed him that the long-lost brother, his 
 only brother, had come back. At these words does 
 he not rush in, just as he is, in the garb of toil, and 
 clasp that brother in his arms ? No ! A demon 
 of hate and sullenness possesses him. " He was 
 angry, and would not go in." And what was he 
 ano"ry about ? — that for this brother, restored as 
 from the dead, a feast should be made. He could 
 have rejoiced if a strayed sheep had come back to 
 the fold, but when it is his own brother he is angry ; 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE xM0R4L MAN. 127 
 
 not indifferent, but angry. Alas ! what a sorry- 
 picture of the heart does this present. Well may 
 we say, he had not a right spirit. 
 
 Can we apply this to the moralist ? Yes ! for 
 they have not the right spirit. Can they claim to 
 be the sons of God, when they have an unfilial 
 spirit ? For unless God be supreme in the heart, 
 there is an unfilial spirit. The heart gives value 
 to all we do. How the obedience of this elder son 
 depreciates in our estimation, when this ungenerous 
 feeling breaks out ! At once we grow suspicious of 
 the whole man. We are prepared for some other 
 ignoble manifestation of heart. And can this 
 obedience of yours, my moral reader, upon which 
 you are wont to look with so much satisfaction, be 
 of any more value than the elder brother's, if ac- 
 companied by a similar heart ? Consider for a mo- 
 ment whether God can regard these externals of 
 service ; or, to go deeper, whether he can be satis- 
 fied with that RESPECT you bear him. Not for an 
 instant do we speak disparagingly of your service, 
 as though it, or you, were hypocritical ; or as though 
 you designed it as a subterfuge. What you do is 
 commendable, and would that all men were of the 
 same character. We do not object to these acts 
 themselves ; but we do protest against your making 
 THEM your religion, your mediator, your Christ — 
 that which shall atone for sins. These acts of ser- 
 vice cannot make a ladder long enough, strong 
 enough to reach from earth to heaven. Like Cbal- 
 
128 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 mers and Scott, when they first began to preach, 
 and before they saw themselves to be wretched sin- 
 ners, needing a divine Saviour, you can discourse 
 on the attributes of the Deity. But your system, as 
 did theirs, goes not beyond sublime ideas of the 
 divine omnipresence, omnipotence, omniscience, and 
 goodness ; combined with some lively conceptions 
 of the character, the teaching, and the example of 
 Jesus Christ the author of Christianity. You go 
 into a rapturous adoration of the Great Being, but 
 there you stop. What you lack is Christ. What 
 place do you assign Him in your system ? God the 
 Father is there, but where is God the Son? And do 
 you inquire, what need of God the Son for me ? Just 
 the need which that Son himself declared — " He that 
 honoureth the Son, honoureth the Father also ; he that 
 honoureth not the Son honoureth not the Father." 
 The absence of a filial spirit in the elder brother 
 is further evident, from the manner in which he 
 met the father's entreaty that he would lay aside 
 his anger. " Lo, these many years do I serve thee, 
 neither transgressed I at any time thy command- 
 ments." Proud words, which reveal and condemn 
 himself without needing any further testimony. 
 *' These many years do I serve thee,'' is the key- 
 note upon which the whole strain is pitched. As 
 though he were not that very moment transgressing 
 the two laws — thou shalt honour thy father, thou 
 shalt love thy brother.* Precisely in this strain 
 
 • Stier's Words of Je^us. 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 129 
 
 the Pharisee prayed — '' God, I thank thee that I 
 am not as other men, extortioners, unjust, adulter- 
 ers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the 
 week, I give tithes of all I possess." 
 
 A similar spirit is seen in the legalist. " Do I 
 not serve thee ?" is the secret question ever put to 
 God. " What more would you have me do ? Can 
 any man bring a complaint against my conduct? 
 Whom have I injured ? The Sabbath I have ob- 
 served. The sanctuary I have frequented. Bo I 
 not serve Thee?" No! for you have never pene- 
 trated into the heart of God's service. " Thou 
 shalt love the Lord thy God ivitli all tliy hearty and 
 with all thy soul, and with all thy strength." Do 
 you serve him by prayer, and love, and faith ? And 
 there is pride in this question. You challenge God 
 to search out secret faults ; can you abide his inves- 
 tigation of thought, and word, and motive, and 
 feeling ? Oh learn these three fearful truths. " Wii 
 may; think ourselves to be keeping all the command- 
 ments of God, while keeping in our heart the 
 principle of all transgression, pride of heart. We 
 may boast of our own righteousness while comrait- 
 ing, in the very boast, the heaviest sins. We may 
 live among all the gifts of grace in their actual 
 offer, and seeming possession, and yet not possess 
 or receive them at all."* 
 
 Indeed, let none of us forget ourselves in this 
 pride and envy of the elder son. We witness in 
 * Stier's Words of Jesus, vol. 4, p. IGl. 
 
130 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 him a life-like scene. That spirit which regards 
 with envy the superior attainments, advantages, or 
 position of another ; that which asks why God has 
 given them what he withholds from us ; in health, or 
 comforts, or prosperity ; that which reasons we 
 might fare as well as these sinners — is the spirit of 
 the elder brother. The eccentric, but most devout 
 and genuine Daniel Krummacher, of Elberfield, 
 was once asked, in an assembly of his brethren 
 discussing this question, who, in his view, was the 
 elder son. He solemnly said, " I well know now, 
 for I learned it yesterday." Being asked further, 
 he laconically said. Myself! and then confessed 
 that yesterday it had fretted his heart to find that 
 a very ill-conditioned person had suddenly been 
 enriched with a remarkable visitation of grace. 
 
 Another remark of the elder brother presents a 
 feature of the moralist's experience. In his petu- 
 lant reply to his father, he said, " Thou never 
 gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my 
 friends." No doubt this was incorrect. Petulance 
 leads to exaggeration, if not positive falsehood. Be- 
 sides, he was angry ; and an angry man's talk must 
 be received with caution. If he had never invited 
 his friends to a festival, it was because he did not 
 want them. His father did not stand in the way of 
 any such enjoyment. It is evident that lie had no 
 joy in his service of the father. It was a harsh, 
 constrained villainage, while he constantly yearned 
 for by-pleasures in which he dare not engage. 
 
THE ELDER BKOTIIER OR THE MORAL MAN. 131 
 
 All this is literally true of the legalist. He has 
 not even a kid over which to rejoice. It is all hard 
 work with him. He looks over the fence with 
 wistful eyes. And if he were not afraid of losing 
 his soul, he would become the prodigal. Of the 
 joy of forgiveness which thrills the heart of the 
 converted sinner, he knows nothing. He tries to 
 practise the Christian's self-denial, without the 
 heavenly comforts which assist the believer. He is 
 a stranger to keeping the commandment from the 
 spontaneous impulse of love. The enjoyments of 
 godliness he has never experienced. The blessed- 
 ness of a religious life has never visited him. He 
 abides in the cold atmosphere of his own self- 
 sufficiency. He is his own blessedness. He seeks 
 it not in Christ. Prayer and praise are only the 
 accompaniments of his worship ; they are not the 
 overflowings of the heart. He tries to draw plea- 
 sures by tapping earthly cisterns ; but they soon 
 fail. He is always changing, and never realizes 
 any abiding good. 
 
 The elder son could not understand why there 
 should be so warm a welcome to Ms profligate brother. 
 Had he not disgraced the family? Had he not 
 wasted his living with harlots ? What was there 
 in him to merit so much regard ? 
 
 A similar difficulty arises in the mind of the 
 moral man. If these men of disgraceful lives, and 
 charged with flagrant sins, are saved, what shall 
 hinder me, who have none of these sins to answer 
 
132 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 for ? The atonement of the Saviour is needed for 
 them, to wash away their sins ; but I have no such 
 sins to be washed away, and therefore, I do not 
 need that Saviour. But what credit can you claim 
 for not falling into his sins ? Have you been 
 severely tempted to them ? Is not much of our 
 morality due to favourable circumstances ? Educa- 
 tion, family, position, temperament, have been 
 powerful checks which have saved us from excesses. 
 Therefore, we must judge of our guilt from another 
 point. We must look at other than heinous trans- 
 gression. Certainly we cannot claim to be innocent 
 of a thousand sins of thought and heart. All malice, 
 envy, hatred, however feebly they may show them- 
 selves within us, are sinful. However we regard 
 them, the law of the Lord declares them to be vile. 
 In Levitical worship sacrifice was required for trifl- 
 ing sins ; and even for sins of ignorance, i. e. acts, 
 which at the tiine, a man did not perceive to be 
 sinful. Yet he must confess them, and seek pardon 
 for them. Now, this teaches just what the gospel 
 asserts — that for every idle thought and word we 
 are to be brought into judgment. And the unfilial, 
 undevout heart, concerning w^hich we have already 
 spoken, is a constant sin. 
 
 You may wonder that a prodigal can be received 
 "while you are rejected. It may seem all wrong ; 
 and yet it is entirely consonant with justice and 
 holiness. He is received because he repents, turns 
 from his evil way, loves the God whom he disre- 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 133 
 
 garded, and desires, above all things, to do liis will. 
 He obeys not from fear, or out of respect, but be- 
 cause he loves to obey. He accepts the Saviour, 
 while you reject him. And that very Saviour hated 
 Sodom's lewdness and open vice ; but he hated yet 
 more Bethsaida's heart of unbelief. You do not 
 repent. You have no new nature. Externally you 
 may seem the better man ; but God, who regards the 
 heart, sees in him a spirit which you do not possess. 
 You deserve much less the name of son than he does. 
 
 Let us however consider this somewhat more fully. 
 For its importance requires, that we should not dis- 
 miss it in this brief manner. 
 
 You are ever comparing your good works with 
 the Christian's conduct. And because, in your es- 
 timation, those deeds seem as virtuous and as 
 praiseworthy as his, you cannot understand how it 
 can be, that if the Christian is saved, you cannot 
 be saved, when you have an equal, perhaps a larger, 
 amount of good works. No doubt this is a serious 
 difficulty to many a thoughtful mind. We will en- 
 deavour to show the radical mistakes of the moralist 
 as he thus reasons. 
 
 With him there is an absence of Gfodas the cJiief 
 object of thought and affection. The Psalmist's frame 
 of mind, was, '' Whom have I in heaven but thee ? 
 and there is none upon earth that I desire beside 
 thei?." Every child of God finds the same senti- 
 ment in some degree pervading his soul. But no- 
 thing like this is found in the heart of the merely 
 12 
 
134 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 moral man. And the want of it is like the absence 
 of sunlight. There is no warmth of piety, and no 
 growth of plants of grace. It affects all he does. 
 It gives a tinge and a tone even to every good act. 
 The absence of that filial temper of dependence, 
 veneration, and love, which should be the natural 
 bent of the soul towards God, constitutes the fatal 
 defect in those amiable, lovely persons, who by their 
 virtues shame the inconsistencies of professing 
 Christians. The best affections are bestowed on 
 everything but God. The loveliest natures do thus 
 virtually exile him from the world which he has 
 made and daily sustains. Kindness, gratitude, love, 
 which are the very feelings he has implanted, take 
 root, grow, and blossom, to bear fruit for all but 
 him. 
 
 Well may he exclaim, " I have nourished and 
 brought up children, but they have rebelled against 
 me." Men love and hate — and often rightly too, — 
 but without thought of God's will. They are not 
 guided in their likes and dislikes by the law of God, 
 by that which he pronounces right or wrong. Be- 
 fore entering upon a path of duty, they do not in- 
 quire, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" 
 In their very noblest deeds they have been moved 
 by compassion for others, or by some human motive, 
 not from a regard to what God requires. He has 
 not been in all their thoughts. So that much which 
 is beautiful in our best impulses, is beautiful only 
 as the flower or landscape is beautiful, because they 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 135 
 
 are faultless ; but not beautiful, as is a holy being 
 who is good in himself; good because he is like 
 God ; good because he watches and obeys the Di- 
 vine will.* 
 
 'Now this pre-eminence of ^od in all we do and 
 think, is that which characterizes the Christian ; 
 while the lack of it is the fatal blemish of the mor- 
 alist. He would pay a tribute to God, but will not 
 bestow the whole heart. God comes in as one of 
 the objects of life, along with self-indulgence and 
 ambition. He has not learned the primary truth 
 that his chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him 
 for ever. Just here we begin to perceive wherein 
 the virtues of the one differ from the virtues of the 
 other. It is a difference not distinguishable by all, 
 hence the misjudgment so common when contrast- 
 ing the Christian with others. 
 
 Let us illustrate in a measure this difference. 
 Place a corpse beside a living man, and contrast the 
 two. The living man has a head with eyes, nose, 
 mouth and cheeks, so has the corpse. And the re- 
 semblance may be even more exact, for the corpse 
 may have an expressive countenance, the look of 
 life, aye, almost the freshness of health. And pro- 
 ceeding further, if you were to examine the internal 
 structure of each, you would find them the same 
 there ; for the dead man has lungs, heart, veins and 
 blood, and all the vital organism, even as has the 
 living man. Wherein consists the difference ? Each 
 * W. Allen Butler's Sermons. 
 
136 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 has a heart — but in the one the heart beats, in the 
 other it is silent. Each has veins, but the blood 
 courses through the one with the bound of life, in 
 the other it is chilled. And so as you compare the 
 Christian and the moralist, you perceive a simi- 
 larity. Does the Christian attend church regularly ? 
 so does the moral man. Is the Christian liberal in 
 his gifts for the Bible, and for missions, and for the 
 varied agencies of the church ? equally prompt and 
 liberal is the moral man. In all outward deport- 
 ment, you can perceive no difference. Where then 
 shall we find it ? Just where we discovered the dif- 
 ference between the corpse and the living man, — at 
 the heart. Each has a heart with the same psycho- 
 logical structure of thought and emotion, but the 
 Christian's heart beats in sympathy with holy and 
 heavenly things, takes a delight in the praise and 
 worship of its Maker, puts all its hopes in him, 
 leans on him all the day long, loves him, and thinks 
 of him. It holds " fellowship with the Father, and 
 with his Son Jesus Christ." The story of the cross 
 melts it to the outflowing of tears. But that other 
 heart lacks all these blessed emotions. It is cold 
 and unfeeling toward God. Now, out of that Chris- 
 tian heart, all good thoughts and words flow spon- 
 taneously. Its deeds are not the fabrications of the 
 hands, as the potter moulds the clay to vessels of 
 beauty ; but they are love's own offspring — the out- 
 goings of a heart that cannot do enough for God, 
 and which is ever bewailing its feeble efforts to 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 137 
 
 glorify him who redeemed it "with his own precious 
 blood. The moralist is ever speaking of his works, 
 calling attention to them, and asking if they are 
 not perfect ; while the Christian is silent, or only 
 sighs, after having done all, " I am an unprofitable 
 servant." 
 
 And now we may carry our figure yet further, 
 and place beside this corpse of faultless proportions, 
 a hunchback, the lineaments of whose face are pain- 
 fully ugly. As a specimen of the human body, how 
 much more perfect, harmonious, and attractive is 
 this corpse! Were we to chisel out a statue fi'om 
 the marble, certainly Ave should choose this corpse 
 for our model, rather than the hunchback. And 
 yet, who does not regard the hunchback more 
 than the corpse ? we bury the latter, but protect 
 and assist the former. Why is this ? Ah ! the 
 hunchback, with all his deformity, is a living man. 
 And now, put in contrast our perfect moral man, 
 with the faulty Christian. If we were to choose a 
 pattern of manliness, w^e would imitate the former ; 
 for in him are amiabilities, and noble traits which 
 make us love him. His record is unblotted, while 
 the Christian has fallen into sin and been reclaimed. 
 And yet this Christian, with his unlovely traits, is 
 a true child of God, with a heart right in God's 
 sight. He deplores his frailties, and strives against 
 them. Secret places witness his deep abasement 
 at the foot of the cross. He cries out all night for 
 pardon, and deliverance from sin. He loves God 
 VI* 
 
138 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 with all his heart, and would cheerfully go to the 
 martyr's stake. He is a faulty Christian, but may 
 not God love him, even as we prefer the ugly-look- 
 ing hunchback to the cold, lifeless corpse ? May 
 not God see more in that Christian to admire, than 
 in the faultless, but heartless moralist ? 
 
 With this light we may comprehend how David, 
 guilty though he was of heinous crimes, could yet 
 be called the mayi after God's own heart. Notwith- 
 standing these blemishes God loved him. For God 
 was to him "the chief end." His worship was 
 more dear than palace, friends, or family. For 
 when an exile for a few days, his irrepressible de- 
 sire was that he might again come to the sanctuary 
 of God. In all the Psalms, David's piety is clearly 
 seen, with his unflinching trust in God, and his 
 longing that Jehovah's name should be magnified. 
 These traits of the inner man made David the 
 model ; so that even of the best of his successors it 
 was only said, " He did not walk after God with a 
 perfect heart, as did David his father." 
 
 Now, it may seem strange that God can take de- 
 light in men manifestly so imperfect. But let us 
 ever remember the words of Samuel to Jesse — " Man 
 looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord 
 looketh on the heart." And here it is that the 
 moral man faileth. His heart is astray from God. 
 In all his calculations of duty, he forgets that re- 
 ligious affecticns m.ust exist in the heart ; and that 
 these religious affections are a part of the duty 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 139 
 
 which God requires of man. His attention and his 
 efforts are directed to outward things. While he 
 acknowledges, he yet is not really impressed with 
 the truth, that Grod reads the thoughts and emotions. 
 Hence, almost unconsciously, he deals with the Om- 
 niscient, as though he could go no farther than to 
 what is said or done. He deceives himself with the 
 proposition, that as a fair name and reputable con- 
 duct commend him to men, it must also render God 
 favourable to him, despite the state of his heart. 
 While pressing this thought, we would carefully 
 guard against the rebound which may send the 
 mind to the dangerous extreme, that if the heart is 
 the main thing, then the conduct is of little account. 
 This was the perversion of a precious truth, which 
 Paul encountered, and which he meets with the 
 question, " Shall we continue in sin, that grace may 
 abound?" We have raised no bulwark behind which 
 imperfect Christians ma}^ skulk ; nor do we pretend 
 that their sins are less heinous before God, than the 
 sins of others — we rather design to guard against a 
 false judgment, which prevails in the minds of num- 
 bers who compare their lives with the conduct of 
 Christians, and finding them equally fiiir, conclude 
 that if these are saved, they shall be ; whereas, it 
 is not the conduct alone which is to be regarded, 
 but also the heart. It is to save from so deadly an 
 error as this, that we endeavour to show, that an 
 imperfect Christian, whose heart is set on God, may 
 be acceptable to him, notwithstanding his defects. 
 
140 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 As to the sins and misconduct of Christians, God 
 "Nvill provide a punishment. They are not to escape 
 the consequences of open sin. Most severely did 
 David suffer for his sin against Uriah. And the 
 believer, as well as the unbeliever, has found that 
 the way of the transgressor is hard. 
 
 That we are correct, in thus calling the attention 
 of the moral man to the state of the heart, is fur- 
 ther evident, from the fact that our Lord himself 
 took this very course, in the well-known interview 
 with Nicodemus. That man was strictly moral. 
 Indeed, he was more, for he is presented as an ex- 
 ample of the devout ritualist, who combined, with a 
 reputable name, a punctilious observance of all re- 
 ligious ordinances. You will notice that our Savi- 
 our, in dealing vrith him, pushes aside the mantle 
 of respectability, and the garments of the virtues 
 and amiabilities, and cuts through the flesh of re- 
 ligious performances, until he touches the heart. 
 Reaching that, he utters the startling words, " It 
 must be born af]:ain." 
 
 Dear reader, listen to those words. They are 
 intended for you, else they had not been preserved. 
 For what is Nicodemus to us ? Nothing. But the 
 truth — a foundation truth of the Bible — associated 
 with that midnight interview, will continue, and go 
 wherever this gospel is preached. The great truth 
 for you to learn is, that you must be renewed in 
 heart; and that a total and thorough change must 
 take place there. All your outward amendments 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 141 
 
 are but the garnishing of the sepulchre. In your 
 heart, you must be formed again after the image of 
 Him who created us. You must not think to patch 
 up the old building, repaint it, and remodel it ; 
 you must begin at the foundation. There must be 
 new principles, new motives, new desires implanted 
 in the heart. 
 
 Be persuaded, that for this, there can be no 
 equivalent. For some things no equivalent can be 
 rendered. They cannot be commuted for, we 
 must perform the thing itself, and in our own 
 person, or be held delinquent. There can be 
 no equivalent for filial love. The child may out- 
 wardly respect his parents, may lavish presents 
 upon them, and never allow them to want, but would 
 these compensate for the lack of love ? So is it in 
 our relation to God. He demands the homage of 
 the heart. That heart was so constituted by him, 
 as to be able to render homage. Nothing else there- 
 fore can be an equivalent for that homage. If we 
 withhold it, and in its place ofi'er our virtues, our 
 amiabilities, our beneficence, our gifts for the spread 
 of the gospel, our co-operation in good enterprises ; 
 we are not thereby rendering God an equivalent for 
 the love he demands. " Though I bestow all my 
 goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body 
 to be burned, and have not love^ it profiteth me no- 
 thing." Yea, more, though I did much beyond 
 this, and made superior religious attainments, and 
 could *' speak with the tongue of men and of an- 
 
142 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 gels, and have not love, I am become as sounding 
 brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I had the 
 gift of prophecy, and understood all m^^steries and 
 all knowledge," and had not love, I would be no- 
 thing. Because I might have these, while my heart 
 is unmoved by love to my Maker. And all these 
 could not compensate for the want of love. 
 
 The parable opens with a happy home, and closes 
 with that home again made joyful, after a season of 
 sorrow. And the Bible opens with the quiet of 
 Eden, and closes with the joy of heaven as delin- 
 eated in the new Jerusalem. A similar contrast 
 may be drawn in our individual histories. God per- 
 mits many of us to begin our existence in the quiet 
 of an earthly home. But where shall that exist- 
 ence be continued ? That is the great question. 
 And that is for us to decide. In a few years our 
 final condition will be for ever determined. Shall 
 we have a mansion in the skies, or shall we roll 
 amid the fiery billows of hell ? Who would not 
 have a home in heaven ? And yet there is danger 
 of losing it. For unless we repent and believe upon 
 Jesus Christ we cannot be saved. Without faith it 
 is impossible to please God. Whatever else we 
 have, unless we are resting upon Jesus Christ alone 
 for salvation, we have not that which renders us 
 acceptable with God. 
 
 We are all erring children. If we have gone to 
 the excesses of the younger son, let us stop now in 
 our career of folly and wickedness, and return to 
 
THE ELDER BROTHER OR THE MORAL MAN. 143 
 
 our Father. If we have not been open sinners, still 
 we shall find ourselves delineated in the elder son. 
 We need a new heart, and a filial spirit. We may 
 have the form of godliness, we must have its power 
 in sanctifying the afi'ections. " Turn unto the Lord 
 and he will have mercy upon us, and to our God for 
 he will abundantly pardon." 
 
 THE END. 
 
BS2418.M921 
 The prodigal son. 
 
 Princeton Theoogical Seminary-Speer Library 
 
 1 1012 00030 0899 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 OniMTcn iM 1 I o A