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TH B 
 
 PRODIGAL IIKCLALAIED. 
 
 OR TIIK 
 
 SINNER'S III IN AM) RECOVERY. 
 
 BY SAMUEL IKKX.1TS PRIME, 
 
 AUTHOR OP "ELIZABETH THORNTON." "RECORDS OP A VILLAGE 
 
 PASTOR," El 
 
 •ten for the Mass. Sabbath School Society, and revised by the 
 Committee of Publi- 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 IfASSAt Hi SETTS SABBATH SCHOOL SOt HTV 
 
 N ' IS ( ornhill. 
 
 1843. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1643, by 
 
 CHRISTOPHER C. DEAN, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
Til K PRODIGAL. 
 
 C BAPTER I 
 
 The Ston of Chlriei L . The Prodigal's career. 
 
 Passing up the East River from the city 
 of New York, just before the traveller enters 
 Long Island Sound, he may be tempted to 
 inquire the name of the owner of a fine house 
 and spacious grounds, that attract the e\ 
 and by their elegance and neatness appear 
 to be in the hands of a man of wealth and 
 
 te. His name is not known to me, but the 
 spot, now ibe abode of strangers, is full of 
 deep and painful interest sa the early home 
 of one whose story I am about to tell. 
 
 Charles L was the son of a wealthy 
 
 man of business in the city of New York. 
 
4 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 His parents were neither of them Christians, 
 but their associations were chiefly among 
 religious friends, and their social and domes- 
 tic relations were governed by a rigid regard 
 to sound morals. 
 
 Charles was an only son. Nursed on the 
 lap of luxury, and in infancy and childhood 
 freely indulged by the fondness of a tender 
 mother and a father who doated on his boy, 
 it is not to be wondered at that he soon dis- 
 played a will of his own, and a disposition to 
 have it gratified without much regard to the 
 feelings or wishes of those around him. But 
 Charles was not what is called a bad boy. 
 In very early life he discovered some traits of 
 character that endeared him to those who 
 loved his parents and who mourned at that 
 parental and mistaken tenderness, which was 
 leaving his will unsubdued and preparing the 
 son and the parents for future pain. 
 
 It was the kind su^estion of these more 
 judicious friends that led Mr. L to re- 
 solve and Mrs. L to consent to place 
 
 their son, now a fine boy of ten years of age, 
 under the roof of an uncle in a quiet New Eng- 
 
THK PRODIGAL iu:< LAIMFI). 5 
 
 land village. A few months after this plan 
 Wlfl tgreed upon, Charles found himself in 
 the family of a country pastor, whom he was 
 to look upon in the light of a father, and 
 whose word was to be his law. 
 
 Here the sweet influences of the religion of 
 Jesus Christ were felt in the hearts and shown 
 in the lives of a well regulated Christian 
 family. The morning sun saw them al- 
 ways with the word of God before them, and 
 after a portion of its sacred truths was read, 
 they were led to the throne of grace in fer- 
 vent prayer by the head of the pious house- 
 hold. The evening was closed with the same 
 hallowed exercises, and then too there was 
 singing that went up from hearts full of grati 
 tude and love. The Sabbath was remem- 
 bered to be kept holy. Modern conformity 
 to the world may think it too severe, but the 
 Sabbath was regarded there as the Lord's 
 day, not man's. There was no light or vain 
 conversation, no reading of worldly books, no 
 walking the streets or fields except to go to 
 the house of God, or to do an act of kindness 
 to an afflicted neighbor. Religion, the reli- 
 1* 
 
O THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 gion of the Bible, — not a weak and cold sys- 
 tem of morality that philosophy may teach 
 without a revelation from heaven, and which 
 makes no more of Christ than a martyr or a 
 hero, — but that religion which owns and teach- 
 es the sinfulness of the heart and the sinner's 
 need of forgiveness through the merits of an- 
 other, that brings out the necessity of Christ's 
 death as the only ground on which God can 
 be just when he pardons ; that religion was 
 the power that reigned by love in the family 
 of the New England pastor. 
 
 I am thus particular, that it may be seen 
 how changed must be the circumstances with 
 which Charles was now surrounded. Placed 
 in" such a family and required to conform to 
 the same rules that all obeyed, he was not 
 slow in showing out the natural aversion of 
 his heart to every thing that was good. If 
 he gave a decent attention to the religious 
 exercises of the house, if he treated the Sab- 
 bath and the institutions of religion with re- 
 spect, it was too plain that he yielded a reluc- 
 tant tribute to what he could not avoid. But 
 the good pastor loved the boy, and tenderly 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL RE< L LIMED. 7 
 
 and faithfully sought to impress the principles 
 
 of divine truth upon his soul. Charles spent 
 some lour or five yean under this instruction, 
 visiting his parents two or three times in the 
 course of the year, at which seasons he en- 
 joyed again the sweets of indulgence, and 
 learned to hate the restraints of a religious 
 family and the dullness of a peaceful village. 
 He had, however, at the village school pur- 
 sued his studies preparatory to college, and 
 at the age of fifteen he was glad to take leave 
 of his hest friends in the country, and enter 
 the university. 
 
 In reciting these facts (for this and what 
 is to come are not matters of fancy, but the 
 records of what are familiar to some still liv- 
 ing), my design is not to follow the subject of 
 this sketch through all the walks of childhood 
 and youth, to mark the several steps by 
 which he reached the end of a short and gay 
 r of follv and sin ; but that those who 
 : id may learn to shun the rocks on which 
 
 was early wrecked, or rather the whirl pool 
 in which he was swallowed, I will mark some 
 of them on the map before us. 
 
8 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 I have said there were some traits of his 
 character that endeared him to his parents 
 and friends. Grown up to youth, full of 
 spirits and fond of pleasure, Charles was the 
 life of the circle of young companions that 
 gathered around him. Generous to a fault, 
 and supplied too freely by his father with 
 spending money, he had both the disposition 
 and the means to indulge himself and others 
 in those amusements that lay the foundation 
 for future vice, and spread flowers in the path- 
 way to eternal ruin. 
 
 Lon^ before he left college he had distin- 
 guished himself in the ball-room far more 
 than in his class ; and he was far more ambi- 
 tious to obtain conquests in the halls of fash- 
 ionable folly than in the fields of learning, or 
 the world of fame. Passionately fond of 
 dancing, he pursued it with enthusiasm, at 
 the risk of health and reputation, and regard- 
 less of the kind advice which reflecting friends 
 wasted upon him. 
 
 While Charles was in college, his father 
 purchased the beautiful place on the East 
 River to which I have already referred, for a 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 9 
 
 summer residence. His winters were passed 
 
 in the city, and when Charles came home, 
 
 with no i for the drudgery of professional 
 life, and no fitness for business) he was in- 
 stalled in his father's counting-room as a 
 clerk, spending his days in the forms of 
 business, and his evenings in the pursuit of 
 
 pleasure. 
 
 The THEATRE was his favorite resort. Its 
 glare and glitter, its thrilling excitements and 
 wild amusements caught his heart, and night 
 after night he revelled in ideal scenes of p; - 
 sionate interest, till be learned to look with 
 cold indifference upon the every -day realities 
 about him. 
 
 He found his way to the gaming-table, and 
 with reckless impetuosity plunged into the 
 vortex which there opens for the souls of the 
 
 iing. Not far from the theatre and the bil- 
 liard-room, was the bouse of her whose step- 
 take hold on hell. With madness that defied 
 all restraint, and shut out hope of his recov- 
 
 , he abandoned himself to Bensua] indul- 
 gences without >\\ . and 1 \ the 
 counsels of an enemy, the efforts of friend- 
 
10 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 who, at each step of his downward course, 
 had interfered to save him from ruin. 
 
 How often in these days of dissipation had 
 a mother wept over him, with tears that none 
 but heart-broken mothers shed over ruined 
 sons ! How often had a fond father sought 
 him out in the dark and hidden haunts of vice 
 to which he nightly resorted, and mingling a 
 parent's love with the strong authority of an 
 injured father, led him home, and watched by 
 his bedside till the morning light, that with 
 the first return of consciousness he might ex- 
 tort a promise of reform. Such influences, 
 stronger than any restraining power but the 
 grace of God, might have saved him but for 
 the grasp of an enemy that was dragging him 
 downward to death and hell. It was scarcely 
 possible that he should have run his course 
 thus far without having drunk often and 
 deeply of the intoxicating cup. Intemper- 
 ance had marked him for its prey. This 
 was some years ago, in the morning of the 
 great temperance reformation which has 
 since so signally and gloriously blessed our 
 country and the world. And when he was 
 
 
THI PRODKiAL RECLAIMED. 1 1 
 
 persuaded by the united entreaties of his 
 parent- and friends to pledge himself to ab- 
 stain from "ardent spirits/ 1 I aile of hope 
 was seen on a mother's faded cheek, and a 
 mountain weight was removed from his 
 father's heart. 
 
 There was a change in Charles that all 
 regarded with intense delight. It lasted for 
 mont' A^ain he was the pride of his 
 
 parents and the centre of a thousand hopes. 
 
 The cup of happiness seemed to his parents 
 to be full when Charles led to the altar, and 
 brought home to their house, a lovely bride, 
 whom of all others they had chosen as one 
 who would make him happy, and throw 
 around him the restraints of love, should he 
 ever be allured again into the paths of vice. 
 
 On the very evening of his marriage, it 
 was painfully evident that he was not beyond 
 the reach of the destroyer. 1 have said that 
 this period was at the opening of the present 
 temperance reformation, and few had then 
 thought of danger from the use of wine. But 
 in the festivities of the marriage day, in the 
 midst of company of which youn^ L 
 
12 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 was the life and soul, and called on again 
 and again to drink to his " health and happi- 
 ness ;" (Oh ! the mockery of such words 
 over the wine-cup !) he lost command of his 
 appetite, and before he suspected his danger 
 he was overcome. Deeply mortified at this 
 occurrence, he determined to regain his self- 
 respect by a rigid adherence to entire absti- 
 nence from all means of intoxication. But 
 the appetite was excited, and it would be 
 gratified. The rest of the story is soon 
 told. 
 
 Months passed away and the once elegant, 
 
 accomplished, fascinating Charles L was 
 
 sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of 
 shameful, disgusting intemperance. The ap- 
 petite became a passion, the passion became 
 a mania. The last hope of his recovery was 
 now blasted. The prospects of wealth and 
 honor and domestic bliss had lost all charms 
 in his eye. The gross sensuality of his dar- 
 ling sins, the vile companions of his nightly 
 debauch, the delirious excitements of the 
 theatre and gaming-table, again absorbed the 
 desires of his depraved heart. In vain did 
 
THI PRODIGAL ur.i L umi'.d. 18 
 
 parental affection plead, in vain did a young 
 Wife, with their tnst-born on her breast, weep 
 
 tears of hitler Brief over his fall : in vain did 
 hear the ttfODg appeals of religious truth ; 
 in vain was he admonished of the danger to 
 bis immortal soul, and the certainty of his 
 SWfft destruction, if he persisted in his down- 
 ward course ; — he was in the grasp of the 
 destrover. Deaf to the cries of affection, 
 blind to his own guilt and shame, and dead 
 to all the sweet sensibilities of the soul, he 
 was lost, and lost for ever. 
 
 Such incessant and reckless devotion to 
 
 the intoxicating bowl was making serious 
 
 inroads upon his once vigorous constitution. 
 
 When he came home from his nightly revels, 
 
 his wild, demoniac ravings gave sad warnings 
 
 that he might speedily fall a victim to the 
 
 drunkard's scourge, the delirium fremetlf. 
 
 Even in this last struggle, when reason had 
 
 ted the throne, and conscience had loog 
 
 been drowned in the wine-cup, and, to the 
 
 irts that loved him most, death seemed the 
 
 only relief that would ever be theirs, even in 
 
 2 
 
14 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 this last struggle there was once more lighted 
 up a faint gleam of hope. 
 
 One morning, after a night of more than 
 his accustomed revelry, he awoke apparently 
 to the strong and vivid consciousness that he 
 was in the road to hell. From the time that 
 he left the fireside of the good pastor in New 
 England, he had seldom given a thought, 
 never an hour, to the memory of the lessons 
 which were then, with so much faithfulness 
 and love, imprinted on his young heart. But 
 impressions thus made are never entirely ob- 
 literated. They may be forgotten in the 
 midst of the follies and sins of a gay career; 
 they may be buried under other and deeper 
 impressions that exert a controlling and de- 
 stroying power ; but they are still there, and 
 in some hour, perhaps of delirium, perhaps of 
 calm reflection, perhaps on a dying bed, or it 
 may be in the world of despair, they will be 
 remembered and reviewed, with all the dis- 
 tinctness of the time when they were graven 
 in the mind. So was it now with Charles. 
 
 His wife was struck with mingled astonish- 
 ment and joy as she heard him engaged in 
 
THE PBODIG kL RK< laimkd. 15 
 
 earnest prayer for the pardon of his many 
 sins for the sake of Jesus Christ. She wept 
 with him, and though quite unused to the; 
 language of prayer, she poured out the desir< 
 of her bursting bearl that Cod would have 
 mercy on the poor prodigal, and lead him 
 
 baek to the paths of virtue and of peace. 
 
 At this juncture, I was sent for, and in a 
 few moments, was at his sid . 
 
 " Oil," said he, as 1 entered the room, " I 
 am glad you have come. I have been praying 
 for the pardon of my many sins, and God has 
 heard my poor prayers for the sake of his 
 Son. I feel better now. 1 am happy now. 
 I am fio'im* to heaven now ! There, there 
 comes an angel, there another; don't you see 
 them cominL r ? There, I am going now ; 
 come, and go with me to glory." 
 
 I saw in an instant that he was wandering, 
 though lie was so peaceful and apparently so 
 happy, that his friends were weeping for joy 
 at the pn t of his sudden conversion from 
 
 the error of his ways. 
 
 I assured him that there - no immediate 
 prospect of his departure, and sitting quietly 
 
16 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 on the bed which he thought was a car on 
 which he was about to be conveyed to heaven, 
 I spoke to him freely of his past life, the ne- 
 cessity of sincere repentance for his many 
 transgressions of God's holy laws, and of the 
 infinite provisions made by Jesus Christ for 
 the forgiveness even of the chief of sinners. 
 Then it was that I saw the strength of those 
 impressions which had been made on his 
 heart while under the instruction of the ex- 
 cellent clergyman of whom I have spoken. 
 The whole plan of salvation was distinctly 
 before his mind, and the views of divine truth 
 which he expressed were far more clear and 
 complete than are usually shown by intelli- 
 gent men who have not enjoyed religious 
 instruction in their childhood. I dealt faith- 
 fully with him, as one who has an account to 
 give before God. But what could be done 
 for a man whose reason was gone, and whose 
 fancy spread before him visions of celestial 
 glory on which he was soon to enter ? I 
 prayed with him, and left him. 
 
 A few days more and I was sent for again. 
 In the mean time he had plunged deeper 
 
THE PRODIGAL U< -i.ai.mki>. 1* 
 
 than ever into his destroying indulgences, and 
 the terrible (hlirluin that haunts the drunk- 
 ard's brain had obtained the masterv. One 
 wild scene of unbridled ss had followed 
 
 another in swift succession, till he was laid 
 upon his dying bed. V), be did not have a 
 dying bed ! Ao visions of angels waiting to 
 convey him to heaven now floated before his 
 eves. No dreams of pardon and peace by 
 the blood of the dear Redeemer, shed their 
 soothing influence on his soul. 
 
 "Take tlum off! Oh. take them off," he 
 screamed as I came into his chamber. " They 
 have come for me; I see them, I feel them; 
 this is hell." 
 
 The scene was awful to me, heart-rending 
 to those who loved him as none others could. 
 Every object in the room was a demon ready 
 to dart upon him. They leaped on the bed, 
 they planted themselves on his breast, they 
 laughed at his horrors, and revelled in his 
 cries and groans. It was with great diffi- 
 culty that strong men could keep him on his 
 couch of anguish. He was determined to fly 
 from the monsters that gathered in troops 
 2* 
 
18 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 about him. Seizing his opportunity when 
 their attention was for a moment diverted, 
 he leaped from the bed, by the side of which 
 sat his parents, wrinkled and gray but not 
 with age, and his own young wife with their 
 only child in her arms ; he broke away from 
 the attendants who vainly strove to hold him 
 back ; he rushed from his chamber into the 
 streets of the city, and there in his nakedness 
 and madness raved like a devil escaped from 
 hell. They caught him and forced him into 
 the house, but could not compel him to lie 
 down. He stood in the middle of his cham- 
 ber, struggling fearfully with friends who 
 gathered around him to pacify his maniac 
 frenzy. His wife fell on his neck, and im- 
 plored him by his love for her and his darling 
 boy, to lie down and be still, till the storm 
 that raged in his brain should pass by. But 
 no tears, no prayers, no force would quiet 
 him in that wild hour. He stood and strug- 
 gled fiercely with phantoms, and raved of 
 devils and the damned. An unearthly bright- 
 ness lighted up his face as he exclaimed, 
 "I am ready now; I'll go, I'll go;" and 
 
THK PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 19 
 
 he stood — a corpse ! They laid him on the 
 1, and closed his eves for ever. 
 
 Such was the career and fate of one whom 
 I knew and loved. He was a Prodigal Son. 
 How manv fall like him ; perish like him, in 
 the verv morning of their da\ , 
 
 As I have read the story of the Prodigal 
 Son in the gospel of Jesus Christ, I have 
 often admired it- force and fidelity in por- 
 traying the course of every sinner in his 
 apostasy from (rod. But more than this, it 
 follows the prodigal, not only in his departure, 
 but in his return to the father, whose house 
 he deserted, and whose love he abused. And 
 a- I have dwelt upon the beauty of this story 
 as a complete picture of the sinner's ruin and 
 recovery, I have thought of asking the young 
 to follow the parable with me, step by step, 
 and patiently contemplate its wonderful fit- 
 ness to lead them to a knowledge of their 
 danger, a sense of their sinfulness, and to 
 guide them in the way of salvation. 
 
 The chapters that follow are written with 
 this - n. If any of my readers, having 
 
20 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 learned the melancholy end of poor Charles 
 
 L , should here lay down the book, it 
 
 may never be known to him who writes it ; 
 but it may be the act which God will look 
 upon as a cold rejection of a kind offer to 
 lead them in the way of life everlasting. Let 
 us read and study the parable of the Prodi- 
 gal Son. 
 
THK PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. '21 
 
 ( II A PTER II. 
 
 The object of this little book — I rablr of the Prodigal 
 
 Son — The analogy !<• d the Prodigal and every sin- 
 
 ner — Km outline of the discussion. 
 
 Man b a prodigal from God. In the 
 morning of his being he was owned as the 
 child, and treated as the favorite of Heaven. 
 But he lias wandered away from his Maker, 
 disowned the relationship in which he stood, 
 squandered the goods that a father's kindness 
 had bestowed ; and in the distance to which 
 he has strayed he must perish miserably, 
 unless brought back to God. 
 
 In the gospel we have a faithful history of 
 the sinner's career. The storv of the Prodi- 
 gal Son was left on record to mark the 
 voluntary departure of man from God ; the 
 misermble condition to which sin reduces the 
 sinner; the bitterness of sorrow he feels when 
 awakened to a s<n ? «' of his sinfuli : and 
 steps by which he must travel back to his 
 
22 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 deserted Father ; his actual return, and the 
 joy there is on earth and in heaven over one 
 who was dead, and is alive again ; who was 
 lost, and is found. Read the parable with 
 this object before the mind, and observe the 
 parallel. It meets the case of every prodigal 
 sinner who has returned to God. You will 
 find it in the fifteenth chapter of Luke. 
 
 " 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 sub- 
 stance 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 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 swine did 
 eat; and no man gave unto him. 
 
 " And when he came to himself, he said, 
 c How many hired servants of my father have 
 
THE PBOBIOAL UKfLAlMKD. 23 
 
 bread enough and to spare, and I perish with 
 banger! I will arise and go to my father, 
 
 and will Bay unto him. Father, 1 have sinned 
 against Heaven and before thee, and am no 
 more worthv to be called thv son : make i 
 as one of thy hired servant-/ 
 
 \nd he arose, and came to his Hither. 
 But when he was yet a I 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 -inned 
 
 linst Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no 
 more worthy to he called thy son.' But the 
 father said to his servants, c Brim* forth the 
 
 -t 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 MS 
 eat and be merry ; for this my son was dead 
 and is alive again, he was lost and is found.' " 
 
 To follow the sinner through all his wan- 
 derings, and to lead him step by step in his 
 return, is a task for which, here on the thresh- 
 old, I feel insufficient. But the object in 
 
 ■w m an honest one. and to accomplish it 
 (iod may give strength to the weak. It may 
 
24 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 be that even this feeble attempt will meet his 
 approbation, and secure his blessing ; and 
 should it thus prove to be the means of lead- 
 ing one poor wanderer back to God, so that 
 there should be joy in heaven over a repent- 
 ing sinner, and Christ Jesus should have one 
 more child at his feet in glory, or one more 
 star in his crown, it will be more than suffi- 
 cient reward. If you, dear reader, whose 
 eye now rests on these words, should be per- 
 suaded by what you read, to think of the evil 
 and the danger of sin, and under the gentle 
 but subduing influences of the Holy Spirit, 
 should then be raised, from the hell into 
 which you are just ready to sink, to the joys 
 of holiness and heaven, then will it not be in 
 vain that these pages are written. And 
 when you and I meet before the throne of 
 that Saviour together, we will rejoice that this 
 humble effort for his glory was made. And 
 if you throw away the book and read no 
 further, if you press on in sin till death over- 
 takes you, it will still be some consolation to 
 me, that, in the morning of your apostasy, I 
 asked you to turn from your evil ways and 
 live. 
 
TIIK PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 25 
 
 In tracing the analogy between the prodi- 
 gal in the gospel and every sinner, we will 
 pursue such thoughts as tli 
 
 The relationship existing between God and 
 man, — that of father and son. The bappi- 
 piness of that relation, and the duties that 
 flow from it. 
 
 The character and conduct of the sinner. 
 He is unwilling to perform his duties, and 
 prefers to depart from God. 
 
 God gives the sinner the privilege of hav- 
 ing his own way if he chooses to take the 
 consequences. He gives him his portion of 
 goods in this life, and permits him to use or 
 abuse them. 
 
 Sin is an apostasy from God. This con- 
 stitutes the guilt and misery of sin. Present 
 and eternal misery, is present and eternal 
 separation from God. 
 
 In the far country the prodigal wasted his 
 substance with riotous living. The sinner 
 wastes his time, talents and opportunities. 
 The prodigal, by his extravagance, was re- 
 duced to want. The sinner loses peace of 
 conscience. God's favor, and his immortal 
 soul. 3 
 
26 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 The prodigal became a menial ; the sinner 
 becomes a slave. 
 
 The prodigal would fill himself with husks ; 
 sin never satisfies the soul's desires. 
 
 In the depth of the prodigal's distress, no 
 man gave unto him. Sinners would not help 
 each other, if they could ; they could not, if 
 they would. 
 
 When ready to perish he began to reflect. 
 He came to himself. Many think that when 
 a man is under conviction of sin, he is beside 
 himself; but he is mad who can rest securely 
 under the guilt and danger of apostasy from 
 God. 
 
 Reflection led to repentance. He deter- 
 mined to return and confess his sin. He 
 arose and came. He resolved to cast himself 
 on the sovereign mercy of an alienated father. 
 This was faith. 
 
 When he was yet a great way off, the 
 father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, 
 and fell on his neck, and kissed him. This 
 was the reception ; the best robe was brought ; 
 a ring was put on his hand ; and shoes on his 
 feet. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. J7 
 
 There was joy in the hou- 
 
 Then b joy in heaven over one sinner that 
 enteth. Will there be joy in heaven over 
 you, this night, dear reader! 
 
 You are addressed in this parable, and in 
 the book vou now hold in vour hand. What- 
 r your name, or place, or age, ii there is an 
 "evil heart of unbelief in departing from the 
 living God," u are the sinner whom I 
 would reach. Do not read and admire the 
 fitness of this story to illustrate the case of 
 your neighbor, but bear in mind that " if thou 
 be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself; but if 
 thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it." 
 Prov. 9: 12. 
 
28 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The relationship existing between God and man — The hap- 
 piness of that relation, and the duties that flow from it — 
 Sinners are altogether without excuse if they renounce 
 their relationship to God and depart from him — Man in 
 paradise, and man an apostate, a prodigal, 
 
 As a creature of God, man is under infinite 
 obligations to obey his Maker. As a depen- 
 dent creature, receiving life, and breath, and 
 being, from his Creator, he is bound to render 
 the perfect love of his heart, and the sincere 
 and ceaseless service of his life. The thing 
 formed is subject to him who formed it. The 
 power of the Maker is absolute, and the 
 thing made has no right to call it in question. 
 Were this the extent of man's obligaticn to 
 God, it would justly demand his perfect 
 obedience of every precept that has been 
 issued from Jehovah's throne. 
 
 No conceivable excuse can be ur^ed for 
 the slightest departure from the requirements 
 
TI1K PBOBIC AL RECLAIMED* 29 
 
 of the divine law. Every thing around us 
 obeys its Maker, and why not we 2 
 
 Why is it that the whole material world, 
 
 animate and inanimate, answers the end for 
 
 which it was madr J Why is it that for six 
 
 thousand years the countless worlds of this 
 
 it universe have moved on in their noise- 
 
 SSj mighty career, without derangement or 
 
 jay ? Why is it that through all her 
 
 operations, from the mote that floats in the 
 
 sunbeam, up to the sun in whose beams it 
 
 floats, nature now rejoices in the same har- 
 
 monv as when " the morning stars sun^ 
 
 together and all the sons of God shouted for 
 
 jo; It is because the material world 
 
 obeys its Creator's laws. Not a jot or tittle 
 
 of the natural law has failed to be fulfilled. 
 
 Summer and winter, seed-time and harvest, 
 
 have followed each other in sweet obedience 
 
 to the law that regulates the seasons of the 
 
 ir. Worlds on worlds, unnumbered and 
 
 perhaps innumerable, roll on in "confusion, 
 
 linconftised," wheeling their wide circuits 
 
 through the fields of space ; the slightest 
 
 deviation from their appointed orbits might 
 
 ;** 
 
30 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 disturb the balance of the universe ; worlds 
 fixed in their distinct and distant spheres 
 would be brought within each others influ- 
 ence, and suns and systems thus deranged 
 would rush in wild disorder into utter ruin. 
 This catastrophe would be the consequence 
 of one star wandering from its place. But no 
 such Lucifer has appeared among the host of 
 heaven. The laws of nature are the laws of 
 God, and the material world knows no revolt. 
 It was left for rational, intelligent creatures 
 to set the example of disobedience in the 
 government of God. 
 
 But my object in this illustration was to 
 show that man is under obligation to obev 
 his Creator, and ought to yield obedience as 
 readily and perfectly as the senseless creation. 
 If it be said, that matter must obey and cannot 
 do otherwise, I answer that reason does not 
 make it necessary for man to sin. He, on 
 whom the gift of reason has been conferred, 
 stands higher on the scale of being than the 
 senseless clod, and ought to yield more glory 
 to him who thus distinguished him. 
 
TH1 PRODIG IL RE4 \. LIMED. 3 I 
 
 And in his word, Ciod often refers to this 
 relationship of Creator and creature, as form- 
 in"- one source of deep and lasting obligation. 
 
 B loo 
 
 Foil have noticed it in that beautiful chapter 
 
 that closes the hook of Ecclesiastes : "Re- 
 member now thy Creator in the days of thv 
 youth." So in the 43d chapter of the proph- 
 
 y of Isaiah, we read, '-Thus saith the 
 Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that 
 formed thee, O Israel." And again, in the 
 
 ne chapter, he says, " I have created him 
 for my glory, I have formed him, yea, I have 
 made him . And this relationship is made 
 the basis of a claim to the service and love of 
 the creature ; a claim that commends itself to 
 ry man's conscience as natural and just, 
 and involving fearful and surprising guilt if it 
 is di nd contemned. Simple as 
 
 the claim thus pre-ented may appear, it ha- 
 firm hold upon the whole man. It is his rea- 
 sonable service to con himself to God 
 (Rom. 1*2: 1), and every Instant that he 
 the very Stones cry out against him 
 and reproach his di 
 
32 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 If the sinner is endowed with moral and 
 mental faculties that raise him above the 
 brutes that perish, and above the inanimate 
 world, his obligations are wonderfully in- 
 creased. God gave him those powers for a 
 more holy purpose. He who conferred them 
 ought to be glorified in their exercise. The 
 author of human reason is entitled to the 
 profoundest homage of that reason. The 
 author of human affections ought to be loved 
 with all the heart, and mind, and strength. 
 And when the Creator, the source of intelli- 
 gence and affection, enjoys the service and 
 the love of those whom he has thus endowed, 
 he receives only what is his just due. And 
 if his claim is disputed, and these tributes 
 denied, if the creature uses his reason in 
 devising rebellion against his Creator, and 
 sets his heart on sin instead of holiness and 
 God, it is right that he should break him 
 with a rod of iron, and dash him in pieces 
 like a potter's vessel. Psalm 2 : 9. When 
 we have made a machine that does not answer 
 the purpose for which it was made, we destroy 
 it and make another. And if the oreat Cre- 
 
TIIH PmODNAL RECLAIMED. 33 
 
 ator of heaven and earth should gird himself 
 with vengeance and exclaim. Let i -troy 
 man whom we m :i our image, and should 
 
 then crush b< th his feet this whole revolted 
 empire, as we would crush a reptile that had 
 aimed at us bis Sting, God would be just. 
 And with dying i:roan. each perishing sinner 
 would be compelled to say, amen. It is a 
 wonder of mercy that sinners are left one 
 moment out of hell! It is more wonderful 
 that they are suffered to live any w here under 
 the government of a holy God ! 
 
 These thoughts are urged upon you, that 
 you may see wherein you have violated the 
 fir^t principles of your beim r . if you have ever 
 broken a single precept of God's word. The 
 relation of creature and Creator has imposed 
 on you obligations from which no circum- 
 stances can relieve you ; and if you have 
 refused to a: r all the ends for which vou 
 
 re made, you d we to be destroyed. 
 
 Hut vast and conclusive as is the obliga- 
 tion derived from this relation, it is the least 
 interesting of all the relations in which the 
 sinner stands to God. He enjoys this in 
 
34 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 common with beasts and stones. There is a 
 higher and nobler bond that draws the intel- 
 ligent creation towards God. 
 
 " We are also his offspring." This sen- 
 timent of a heathen poet an apostle repeats 
 to express another relation between man and 
 God. He is " our Father.'" Strange con- 
 descension it is on his part, to permit us to be 
 called the sons and daughters of the Lord 
 Almighty. But it is no more strange than 
 true. God is called by the tender name of 
 " Father " more than two hundred times in 
 the Holy Scriptures. It is the title by which 
 his creatures are most frequently desired to 
 address him. It expresses more fully than 
 all others, the relationship that should exist 
 between man and God. God is the Father ; 
 you are the child. 
 
 Let it not be thought a thing incredible 
 with you that God should be under obliga- 
 tions to his creatures. He has assumed them 
 and will perform them. Having created you, 
 he is bound to exercise for you a Creator's 
 care so long as you answer the end for which 
 you are made. And no longer. Having 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 35 
 
 formed you with faculties capable of happi- 
 er misery, God is further required bj the 
 
 benevolence of his nature, to place happin- 
 within your reach. It would not be right for 
 God to make the holv angels miserable. 
 They have a title to bliss so long as they 
 ob< And no longer. The moment th< 
 
 sin, all obligation on God's part, to make 
 them happy, ceases for ever, and he may 
 punish or destroy them whenever it pleases 
 him. So with you. God is bound by his 
 own justice to do good to the deserving, and 
 that obligation he will discharge to the satis- 
 faction of every obedient subject of his wide 
 empire. 
 
 Has not God most freely and faithfully 
 performed his whole duty towards you ? His 
 preserving hand has always been above, and 
 beneath, and around you. But for that shield 
 death would come to you on every gale, 
 meet you at every step, and hurry you into 
 the grav< You live only because God per- 
 mits. You sleep on the upholding hand of 
 the God whose law you have broken ; and 
 that hand is between you • J 
 
36 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 far beyond this mark of mercy, even in the 
 midst of your sins, he sets before you hap- 
 piness, and places it within your reach. This 
 is favor undeserved. When the law is broken, 
 the sentence comes, and justice calls for its 
 execution. But God, still willing to be the 
 Father of his creatures, has followed them 
 w T ith kindness, and has offered pardon, and 
 promised to the penitent the return of his 
 alienated love. He has provided a way for 
 their recovery, and urged it upon their ac- 
 ceptance with so much earnestness, that if 
 they persist in sin, and perish, they will have 
 none to blame but themselves. 
 
 These facts, too evident to be denied or 
 doubted, show you that God has done his 
 duty to you, even when your treatment of him 
 had released him from all obligation. But 
 if the relationship of parent and child imposes 
 the duty of protection and kindness on the 
 father, what are the duties that rest on the 
 son ? You are bound to obey. This is the 
 first duty of a rational creature. The claim 
 is laid in nature. All men acknowledge this. 
 Where the gospel has never been preached. 
 
TH* PBODIC u, nr.« i.MMKi). 31 
 
 where barbarism is, and no light but that 
 
 of nature shines 00 the heart, even there the 
 
 it of the lather to the obedience of the 
 child i^ aihnitt - the basis of all authority. 
 
 The Roman law allowed a lather to put his 
 
 1 to death for a breach of hi- eomman 
 The •! has regulated the claim, but has 
 
 not weakened its powa The claim is 
 itrengthened by every unmerited act of kind- 
 ness that you have experienced at the hands 
 of your Father in heaven. Had Clod punished 
 i in the first moment of sin, with everla-t- 
 j banishment from his face, your obligation 
 to obey would not have been cancelled or 
 weakened. The angels who sinned were 
 damned on the instant, but they are at this 
 hour as much bound to obey the law of God 
 as the angels that worship before the throne. 
 But when # God was pleased to refrain from 
 punishment and to spare you in mercy, your 
 obligation has been increasing according to 
 the number and magnitude of favors ived. 
 To record and recount those favors I should 
 not know where to begin, nor where to end. 
 Should we commence with the first moment 
 
 4 
 
38 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 of your existence, and dividing your life into 
 as many periods as there are minutes in your 
 years, each individual moment would be a 
 monument of God's mercy. 
 
 Perhaps the severest expression that ever 
 fell from the lips of the Son of God, is that 
 memorable curse, " It were better for that 
 man, that he had never been born." You 
 live ; a creature of God ; a moral being ; a 
 dying and yet living creature ; liable to ten 
 thousand accidents, yet spared in mercy, 
 protected amid dangers seen and unseen, and 
 surrounded with favors more in number than 
 the stars in heaven, or the sands on the sea- 
 shore. Yet these are nothing more than 
 common mercies. We could not number 
 them, though we should say nothing of what 
 God has done for his creatures as those who 
 have sinned. All this will be , considered 
 hereafter. But leaving the gifts of divine 
 grace out of the account, the gifts of provi- 
 dence alone will furnish motives to enforce 
 the most perfect compliance with every 
 precept of the law. 
 
TBI PBQDIQAL kixlaimkd. 39 
 
 And beyond obedience, God requires your 
 
 love. "My SOD, give me thy heart/' He 
 ivs no other obedience than that which is 
 the fruit of low. He deserves your love and 
 ought to have it. lit is infinitely lovely. 
 Every thing io him is fitted to secure the 
 undivided affections of every intelligent crea- 
 ture in the universe. If the moral world 
 would follow the dictates of sound judgment, 
 and act as reason and conscience approve 
 and enjoin, that world would unanimously 
 lit the Lord Almighty in their hearts. 
 Combine the wisdom of the whole creation, 
 from every part of this world, and from every 
 other world where intelligence reigns, and 
 let that collected wisdom designate the char- 
 ■Ctef of him who is worthy to sit on the 
 throne, and be honored and worshipped, and 
 loved by all both now and for ever, and Jk- 
 ikivah of hosts would be declared worthy 
 alone to glory, and honor, dominion, 
 
 and power, both now and for ever. If sin 
 • not enthroned in the heart, and the 
 choice of a monarch were submitted to those 
 who dwell here and on high, the Lord Al- 
 
40 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. , 
 
 mighty would be chosen Kino- of kin^s by the 
 united voice of the universe. And why not? 
 What traits of character, what qualifications 
 for office, what claims to love, do good men 
 seek after, that are not blended most har- 
 moniously and illustriously in the person of 
 your Father in heaven ? 
 
 Do men love benevolence ? God opens his 
 hands, and streams of kindness flow in rivers 
 of mercy to this parched and desert world. 
 And if men love goodness, they ought to 
 love God. 
 
 Do men love justice? They profess to 
 admire it in each other; and God is eternally, 
 inflexibly just. His character was never im- 
 peached, though clouds of false witnesses 
 have sought to cast reproach on his name. 
 His laws are equitable, designed to promote 
 your happiness as well as his glory, and the 
 ingenuity of man was never able to impair or 
 improve them. The penalties are complained 
 of as being too severe, but they were not 
 sufficiently severe to deter you from incurring 
 them. You knew the law and knew the 
 penalty ; you broke the law, and when the 
 
THE PftODIGAL RECLAIMED. 41 
 
 penalty comes upon you, you complain of its 
 severity. Ami God lias administered the 
 complicated affairs of this va-t empire for Sixty 
 :ituries. in the midst ofceaselesi and d< - 
 Derate rebellion, and not a cfa has been 
 
 made good against him ; the universe, with 
 the exception of wicked men and devils, has 
 
 approved of his administration. 
 
 Do men love truth ! God is true, though 
 rv man should prove a liar. His pur- 
 poses are eternal, his word unchangeable, his 
 veracity unimpeachabl He cannot lie. 
 
 For thousands of years he has had a con- 
 troversy with a race of beings who have 
 labored to fasten upon him some charge of 
 falsehood, some failure to fulfil his engage- 
 ments, that might serve as a pretext for their 
 unfaithfulness, but they have labored in vain. 
 If truth is lovely, (iod ought to be loved. 
 
 Do men love honor, and glory, and majestv, 
 
 and power, blend«-d with mercy, and goodness, 
 
 and meekness, and the softer graces that shine 
 
 in holines- They find tbem all combined in 
 
 that unapproachable light which surrounds 
 
 the throne of Jehovah I Around him those 
 4 # 
 
42 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 attributes cluster. From him those rays of 
 grandeur and beauty shine forth to fill heaven 
 and earth with his glory. Angels gaze with 
 delight upon the brightness of the Father's 
 face, and seraph hearts burn with love as 
 his perfections beam eternally upon them. 
 And I ask, why is it that the sons of God 
 who have never swerved from the purity of 
 their first estate, will study the character of 
 God and love it the rpore, the more they 
 learn ; while man, who has revolted from 
 God, will hate him the more his attributes 
 are revealed. If angels love their Maker 
 supremely, why should not you? Are you 
 more capable of judging what is lovely than 
 they ? Are your obligations less than theirs ? 
 For you God has done what he never has 
 done and never will do for them ; and the 
 obligation that draws you to him is stronger 
 than any other chain which extends from his 
 throne to a created heart. 
 
 Thus it appears, that if we study the char- 
 acter of God, we find in him all those per- 
 fections, which ought to engage the undivided 
 love of every creature in the moral universe. 
 
m ntoDian reclaimed. 43 
 
 Therefore, God has a claim upon von. both 
 
 from what h< and wliat be has done. Can 
 the claim he strengthened Lei 119 uo one 
 
 p further. 
 
 ) mr own i t requires you to love and 
 
 obey your h |-\ith- ^ ou d to 
 
 he happy here and hereafter. 1 >ut to be 
 happy you must he holy, 'and to he holy you 
 must forsake sin, and love the Lord with all 
 your heart. Would you know what fruits of 
 joy and peace will spring from love to God 
 in the heart of man. look hack to the morning 
 of this world's being, when man rejoiced in 
 the smiles of his Maker, and delighted to 
 hold communion with him as friend with 
 friend. It is hard for us. in our present sinful 
 state, to form an adequate conception of the 
 happiness that i in the human heart, 
 
 and s If over the pathway of man, 
 
 fore he broke hi- Father's law, and became 
 a wanderer from his horn . In the garden 
 of Eden there was every thing provided to 
 make him blc bora all was made. The 
 
 bloomed in beautj at bis ; delicious 
 fruit hung in rich abundance around him ; the 
 
44 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 air of heaven was balmy, and its light was 
 sweet. The birds of the air and the beasts of 
 the field were his friends. 
 
 He awoke in the morning and rejoiced in 
 the goodness and loving-kindness of his 
 Father in heaven. He, whose servants were 
 angels, delighted to come down in the cool of 
 the day, and walk in that garden, and hold 
 social converse with his creature man. The 
 heart of that creature must have been full of 
 praise. And God saw that it was not good 
 for man to be alone, and he gave unto him 
 one to share his joy. Now it was Paradise. 
 There was no holier, happier heaven than 
 Eden. Man, in the image of God, grew in 
 knowledge, and holiness, and happiness, as 
 day by day his powers enlarged and took in 
 new supplies from the great Fountain of light 
 and love. How could it be otherwise ? The 
 friend of God, surrounded by all that heart 
 could wish or hope, why did he not continue 
 to be thus for ever blest. Immortal youth 
 bloomed on him ; no pain, disease, or danger 
 threatened him ; heaven was his on earth, 
 and eternal life opened on his unclouded 
 view. 
 
Tin: PBODIG IL m:i I \i :!:d. An 
 
 I>nt in that bright morning of bis existence 
 
 man enjoyed no more than would have been 
 • portion of his j had he continued 
 
 to low ;u: his Mak( This was 1 
 
 tremendous msibility. God laid on him 
 
 the mighty trust of standing there in the gar- 
 den, at the head of the human race, to aet for 
 himself and those who should come after him. 
 He abused the tru<t. and involved himself 
 and his children in the ruins of that sad fall. 
 Our first parent knew that on him was laid 
 the weight of a world's immortal hopes, and 
 as he looked upon the forbidden fruit, he felt 
 that by obeying the command of God, he 
 would secure for himself and his posterity a 
 title to everlasting life while disobedien 
 would bring on him and them the corse of 
 
 . the righteous indignation of 
 
 a holy God. All this h • felt, when 
 
 put forth his hand to commit the first sin 
 
 that stained this virgin world. \\\\\ with 
 
 idness, just like that which marks t 
 transgression < f every -inner who breaks 
 
 the law of God, h«- ventured on the awful 
 experiment. 
 
46 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 ' f He plucked, he ate 
 Earth felt the wound, and nature from her seat 
 Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe 
 That all was lost." 
 
 From that dark hour to this, the conse- 
 quences of that one sin have flowed like a 
 river of death over the natural and moral 
 world. The beauty of Eden withered as if 
 the desert blast had smitten it. Thorns and 
 briers sprang up and grew in the pathway of 
 man. The fruits of the earth no longer came 
 at his bidding, but were to be earned by the 
 sweat of his brow. Disease, and pain, and 
 want, and death, a long sad train of wretched- 
 ness and woe, followed him as he went forth 
 into the wilderness of a desert world, a prod- 
 igal from his Father, an outcast from paradise, 
 an heir of hell. Sin was his curse. His sin 
 proved his misery. It alienated his Father's 
 heart, it poisoned the cup of his domestic 
 peace, it enfeebled his body, beclouded his 
 mind, strewed his way with pains, and fears, 
 and woes, and exposed him to misery more 
 exquisite and overwhelming hereafter. 
 
THI PBODIGAL RECLAIMED* 47 
 
 And u by one man, sin entered into the 
 
 world." M By one man's disobedience many 
 won made sinnei "By the oflence of 
 
 one, judgment came upon all men to con- 
 demnation." Rom. 5: IS — 19. This is the 
 record which the Holy Ghost, by the apostle 
 
 to the Roman-, has given of the connection 
 between the sin of onr first parents and the 
 misery of his posterity. It is a statement that 
 must be true, because God has said it ; this 
 connection must be wise, because God ap- 
 pointed it. It must be good, because he who 
 ordained it had in view tile highest glory of 
 his own unsullied name, and the highest good 
 of the children whom he has made. 
 
 Such was the change that took place in 
 the world in consequence of sin. What sin 
 did for our first parents, it does for you. It 
 
 \s for their interest to be hoi v. It is for 
 your interest to be holy. True it is that you 
 do not stand in the same relations with those 
 of Adam in the garden, but you live under 
 the same moral government, with the same 
 promises and threatening! to induce you to 
 yield perfect obedience to the same law of 
 
48 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 the same righteous God. The same heaven 
 of unfading bliss invites you to its everlasting 
 enjoyment. The same curse hangs over your 
 head, to fall for ever on the soul that sinneth 
 against God. Now, in the morning of your 
 career, make up your mind to depart from 
 God, to break his law, to cast off his author- 
 ity and plunge into sin, and that curse shall 
 fall upon you here, and rest on you with 
 an increasing weight through all eternity. 
 You shall live in sin, and die in sin, and 
 while you feel in your soul the fire that is 
 never quenched, and the gnawings of the 
 worm that will never die, it shall be the 
 bitterest pang in the anguish of eternal woe, 
 that when you resolved to-day to con- 
 tinue in sin, you knew the consequences and 
 mi^ht have shunned them but for the wretched 
 choice you made. 
 
 And instead of wasting the precious hours 
 of time in vain inquiries as to the wisdom of 
 the system by which you are involved in all 
 the bitter consequences of our first parents' 
 sin, will it not be far more for your present 
 and future good to ask the way by which you 
 
Tin: PBOmeAL RECLAIMED* 19 
 
 may be delivered- from " thr wratli and curse 
 of God, M that now threaten your soul? Were 
 you io I burning house, you would seek to 
 escape, before you sought the origin of the 
 llanit Ifvourbest friend wer lkinir in 
 
 the waves, you would he more anxious to 
 know how he could be - i, than how he 
 was thus exposed. You are in danger, near 
 and dreadful. How shall you escape? 
 
50 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 An ungrateful son — The Prodigal's demand — The father 
 remonstrates, pleads. warns, but in vain — God thus rea- 
 sons with sinners, sets life and death before them 7 and 
 warns them of the future. 
 
 Not many years ago, in the State of Mary- 
 land, there was a man whose experience so 
 much resembled that of the father in this 
 parable, that I must stop a moment here to 
 mention the circumstances. This man was 
 the father of two sons to whom a small 
 property was left by a relative, on the pos- 
 session of which they were to enter when 
 they came of age. The " younger " of these 
 " two sons " had in very early life, and 
 through his youth, been wild and reckless ; 
 and so regardless of the little that from time 
 to time had been committed to his hands, in 
 fact had discovered so many indications of 
 being a spendthrift, that his father was justly 
 fearful that the property bequeathed to him 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 51 
 
 wild soon be squandered, if be should have 
 
 it in his power. As this property was in the 
 
 hands of the father, to he kept until the 
 children eame of age, he declined paying it 
 over, when the "younger son," on the day 
 that he was twenty-one years of age, de- 
 manded it as his own. 
 
 The father had always been a kind and 
 indulgent parent, and having never denied his 
 children a reasonable request, he could not 
 believe that any serious r nice would bo 
 
 d to his determination still to retain the 
 rty in his own hands, and supply his 
 son with its annual avails. Who, then, can 
 imagine the surprise of that affectionate 
 parent, when this beloved son. whom he had 
 "nourished and brought up," prosecuted him 
 
 the civil courts, and by a regular process 
 of law, compelled him to pay over the 
 property which he held in trust. 
 
 The son r .»•(! the money, and not many 
 days after left his father's bouse, to enjoy, 
 
 without restraint, the pleasures of the world. 
 The vest of his history is that of all other 
 
 prodiga' He -put all in riotous living. 
 
52 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 He rushed from one scene of sensual indul- 
 gence to another, till his property was gone, 
 his health ruined, and worn out with disease 
 and want, before he was thirty years old, he 
 came back to his father's house and died. 
 
 As we pursue the parable of the prodigal 
 in the gospel, we shall be more and more 
 struck with the analogy between his case, 
 and that of every sinner under the parental 
 government of God. 
 
 This father, we may believe, was doing all 
 for his children that the most generous affec- 
 tion could do, to promote their highest interest 
 and happiness. But to the impatient spirit 
 of the younger son, the mild government 
 even of a father's love, was too severe. He 
 would not " bear the yoke in his youth.' 3 
 He saw others, who had broken away from 
 the restraints of parental authority, revelling 
 in the luxury of independence, and his pas- 
 sions urged him to follow their brilliant and 
 tempting path. Home, with all the fond 
 endearments of the domestic circle, its love, 
 its peace, its joy, its hope, — home was to him 
 a prison. He looked out on the world as 
 
THI PBODIO vl UCL umi:i>. 
 
 through a grated door. Ahmad it was bright 
 and charming, at home it was dull and drear. 
 Others seened to be happy in the pleasures 
 of the world ; he was not happy at home; he 
 would try his fortune for himself] with those 
 whose hearts were always light, and whose 
 fa were always lighted up with smiles. 
 
 We may imagine the "father' sitting in 
 his own room, thinking of the multiplied 
 sources of comfort with which God had sur- 
 rounded him, and sending to heaven his silent 
 but fervent prayers, that his " two sons/' his 
 only children, the pride of his heart and the 
 delight of his eyes, might be kept from the 
 evil that is in the world. The restless spirit 
 of the "younger" has often filled his mind 
 with painful anxieties, and at times the way- 
 wardness of this thoughtless child had (bit 
 upon the father tl ar, that one day he 
 
 might bring hi ly hairs with sorrow to the 
 grave. This younger son enters the room, 
 and suddenly makes the demand, " Father, 
 give me the portion of goods that falleth to 
 m In the original lan_ ■ of the gospel 
 
 it reads more like this, ''Give me my share 
 
54 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 share of the property. 55 It comes as a claim, 
 as if he had a right to a portion of the 
 property whenever he chose to take posses- 
 sion. There was no acknowledgement on 
 the part of this assuming boy, that he was 
 entitled to nothing while his father lived, 
 and to little or nothing, as the younger son, 
 when his father should be called to die ; but 
 with strange boldness, he demands his por- 
 tion, and will have it noiv. He will not wait 
 to have it when his father can no longer 
 enjoy it ; he is not willing to be sustained by 
 his father's bounty, to have every want sup- 
 plied, and every care relieved, but makes 
 such a demand as assures that tender father 
 that his son is determined to desert the 
 parental roof, and become a wanderer in the 
 world. 
 
 Scarcely could the father believe his own 
 ears. Mingled emotions of surprise and grief 
 must have filled his heart, at the bold deter- 
 mination which marked the demand of this 
 wayward son. He never dreamed that his 
 own son, his youngest, his Benjamin, would 
 thus insult him in his own house, with so 
 
THi: IMtODK.AL U< LAIMKD. 
 
 unreasonabl and ungrateful a proposal. 
 This child of many prayers and tears, per- 
 haps the idol of his heart, was resolved to 
 break the ties that bound him to the home 
 of his childhood and youth, and to plunge 
 madly, perhaps irrecoverably into ruin. So 
 well the father knew the temper of his son, 
 that now the worst fears filled his heart as he 
 saw that son before him, bent on his own 
 destruction. 
 
 And must this darling boy, perhaps he said 
 within himself, and must this boy whose very- 
 faults I have forgiven and almost loved, this 
 child whom I have watched in infancy, 
 whom 1 have pressed to my heart ten thou- 
 sand times, and prayed with earnestness that 
 God would bless, and sanctify, and save him, 
 must this child be LOST i Must he becon 
 a prodigal ? Will he desert me now that my 
 head is whitening for the tomb Is this the 
 fruit of my excessive indulgence, my parental 
 forbearance with t iults of a dear child? 
 
 True, I bare yielded to his caprices, indulged 
 him in his failings, borne with his frequent 
 errors, trusting fondly that love would win 
 
56 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 him to repentance, and bind him closer and 
 for ever to my heart. But my kindness, that 
 long since should have led him to repent, has 
 made him bolder in his sins ; it has hardened 
 him, when I hoped to melt him by its power, 
 and here he has come at last to make a for- 
 mal demand, and take a final leave of his 
 father and his best friend. What would I 
 not give rather than suffer him thus to go? 
 Though I am rich, yet for his sake I would 
 become poor. Would he but stay near me, 
 and love me, all that he could ask or wish 
 should be his even now, and by-and-by, I 
 would raise him to honor and power; he 
 should be rich and increased in goods, and 
 have need of nothing, and be the heir of 
 happiness that he has never yet heard of or 
 conceived. It is not my goods that I value. 
 O no. If he would remain with me, I would 
 load him with wealth. " How shall I give 
 thee up !" " Would God, I could die for thee, 
 O my son, my son !" 
 
 How much does such language as this ex- 
 press of the feelings with which God regards 
 the ungrateful wanderings of the sinner. To 
 
Till: PRODIGAL RE4 L LIMED. ">7 
 
 bring out more clearly -till tin* unreasonable 
 a of t! *t request, ire may suppose 
 
 the father to address him in the words of 
 mild but firm remonstrance, hoping to c; 
 su;. iim from the fatal step, 
 
 on, this is a strange, a most unusual 
 
 reqiu I mi ask me to divide my living 
 
 With you, as if you had not at all times 
 
 eivud whatever was nee y for your 
 happiness. Have you ever lacked for any 
 thing that I had it in my power to give ?" 
 
 " I cannot say that I have." 
 
 " 1 you ever been denied any reason- 
 
 able indulgence since you have been under 
 my roof?" 
 
 " I do not know that I have." 
 
 " I I ever laid any commands on you 
 
 that have been hard to i , oppi ve or 
 
 capricious ; any that were not calculated to 
 
 promote your happin is well as my inter- 
 
 ts, and the of the family 
 
 11 \ 1 have no complaints to m 
 
 *• ! I not - it to mak( a, and all 
 
 under my authority, happy, famishing them 
 with i thine that the most indulgent fat! 
 
58 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 could grant ; and have I not promised to do 
 for you hereafter, all that is reasonable, 
 and far more than you have any right to 
 demand ?" 
 
 " Why, yes, I suppose you have; but 
 then " 
 
 "And tell me now, my son, for it is your 
 father speaking from the fulness of his soul, 
 tell me if I have not loved you tenderly. In 
 the season of your infancy, when you could 
 take no care of yourself, I watched over you. 
 In your childhood, I labored for your support, 
 and to this hour your every want has been 
 supplied. In sickness I have hung over your 
 couch with tenderest solicitude. Night after 
 night I have sat by your side, or knelt to pray 
 for you. Have I not followed you always 
 with kindness that no words can express? 
 And even in your errings, for you know you 
 have often grieved me, my son, even then 
 have I not yearned over you with a tender- 
 ness such as no heart but that of a father 
 can feel ? Speak to me now, and tell me if 
 I have not done all this, and more ? Say, if 
 there is any thing that will bind you for ever 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 59 
 
 to my heart, and 1 will do it, any thing, every 
 
 thing; but do not, O, do not desert me, now 
 that i s coming on me, and 1 feel that not 
 many years hence I most lie down and die. 
 
 1 would have you near me to close my eyes. 
 Stay with me, my dear son. >tay." 
 
 So would an affectionate father address an 
 
 ungrateful son, about to desert his roof. And 
 such language keeps up the analogy. So 
 God might now speak to you from the throne 
 of his holiness ; and what could you answ 
 him 3 AVhat could that prodigal son, now 
 bent on his own destruction, say to these ten- 
 der appeals : If he could recur to one single 
 act of his father that was cruel, one unkind 
 word, one unreasonable command, or even 
 an unpleasant look, he would seize upon it as 
 a palliation of his base ingratitude. But that 
 was lo\ Prom bis infancy up- 
 
 ward, that KM had ft It how good a father 
 could be, even to an undeserving child; and 
 as the sum of his kindness pressed on the 
 heart, as all the acts of parental love came 
 thron« r in£ on his mind, he could not find or 
 frame an excuse for his ungrateful purpo- 
 
60 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 " He was speechless. 55 The sense of obliga- 
 tion to stay and serve his father, and cheer 
 his declining years with filial love, to make 
 some faint return for all that he had received, 
 doubtless pressed upon him, just as you feel 
 at this moment a sense of duty to your father 
 on earth, and to the God of heaven and earth 
 who made you. 
 
 The young man was struggling between 
 this conviction of duty to his father, and a 
 desire to taste the pleasures of the world. 
 He wanted to be free to court the vain follies 
 of a life of sin, and he must first be delivered 
 from the bondage of parental care. His father 
 saw the struggle, and thus continued : 
 
 "My son, you are young, and, like most 
 young men, you think that happiness may 
 be found in the ways of folly and sin. I see 
 what you want, and I know what will be the 
 consequence of the course you propose to 
 pursue. And before you quit the home of 
 your childhood, and the father who has wept 
 and prayed over you as many times as the 
 sun has risen and set upon you, let me warn 
 you plainly of the result. Pleasure will lead 
 
Tin: P&ODIOAL U U L LIMED, (j I 
 
 you into sin. Sin will lead you into misery. 
 The great enemy ofsouls WlU draw you aside 
 from the path of virtue : JfOU will, by I es, 
 
 overeome ami sill the reproaches of your 
 
 conscience ; you will Bud it becoming more 
 and more easy to break the laws of God and 
 man : your soul will, by-and-by, delight itself 
 in sin ; the loose, and abandoned, and cor- 
 rupt, will be your companions, — they will 
 throw their chains closely around you, and 
 draw you downward to everlasting ruin. If 
 a treacherous friend has pushed you from a 
 precipice, can you stop midway in your fall i 
 Can you leap from the whirlpool, when drawn 
 into its remorseless gulf? Then may you 
 rescue yourself from the influence of sinful 
 companions, when they have enticed you to 
 the brink of the precipice, at whose base is 
 the burning lake. And now, I warn you, as 
 a father, that if you persist in your determi- 
 nation to depart from your father's house 
 and pursue a course of sin, yon will make 
 yourself miserable now, and run the risk of 
 losing your soul. But I shall not restrain 
 you against your own ; will. Vou mint 
 
 6 
 
62 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 make your own choice. I offer you riches, 
 and honors, and happiness, if you will stay 
 and live with me, and love me. And I warn 
 you, that if you go, you incur my displeas- 
 ure, — a father's curse, — you will pierce 
 yourself through with many sorrows, and at 
 last may lie down in devouring fire, and dwell 
 with everlasting burnings. But you are to 
 decide yourself; therefore, choose you this 
 day whom you will serve." 
 
 The son listens to this solemn warning. 
 He trembles under its truth and power. He 
 is half resolved to stay. But the love of the 
 alluring world steals over him, and at last, 
 with down-cast eyes and quivering lips, he 
 says, " Give me the portion of goods that 
 falleth to me." Poor boy ! 
 
 Now, I do not mean to say that this 
 account of what might have occurred be- 
 tween the father and the prodigal son, is, in 
 all its points, like that which marks the 
 departure of every sinner from the living 
 God. There may not be any hour in the 
 siuner's history when he thus enters into a 
 formal argument with his Maker, and then 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. (»-*i 
 
 to desert him and become a prodigal. 
 
 Bui 1 do say, thai in his holy word, (iod b 
 
 Bed this whole matter with the sinner, 
 
 tins before him all the motives to love and 
 
 sdieo . iod the s m - just as well, 
 
 ■ consequences of -in, and the fruits of 
 
 holin s if God should come down, and, 
 
 calling each sinner to his feet, should reason 
 
 with him, as this lather with his apostate 
 
 son. 
 
 Suppose that God should say to you as he 
 said to Israel of old, by his prophet, " Come, 
 now, and let us reason togeth< Is. 1 : 18. 
 Knowing full well the settled purpose of your 
 heart to depart from him, he might address 
 you thus : 
 
 " You are a creature of my hand, depen- 
 dent on me for life, and breath, and beii 
 is world is my house, and while w>u ha 
 lived in it. you I i supported by my 
 
 po 1 from my Bb and clothed by 
 
 my 1< Mercies innumerable 1 have poured 
 
 in your path, and loaded you with kindness 
 as free as it was urn. . »d. Y have I 
 denied you a reasonable request, while you 
 
64 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 have been a subject of my government. En- 
 joying the freedom of your own will, you 
 have been permitted to seek your own pleas- 
 ure in your own way. I have set before you 
 the highest and purest joys that men or 
 angels can desire, and offered them freely 
 without money and without price. I never 
 laid on vou a command that was hard, or 
 unjust, or unequal, that would not promote 
 your good as well as my glory. My c com- 
 mandments are not grievous.' 1 John 5 : 3. 
 ' The law is holy, and just, and good. 5 Rom. 
 7 : 12. And if you and all my offspring 
 had obeyed that law, the earth would have 
 been a paradise to the present hour. 
 
 "And have I not laid you under obliga- 
 tions of gratitude unspeakably great? Think 
 of the tenderness with which I nurtured vou 
 
 w 
 
 in your infancy, when life was but a breath ; 
 and of the care I took of you in childhood, 
 when others fell in death around you; how I 
 led you on to youth, preserving your health, 
 or healing disease, when you were sinking 
 under its power. And more than all this, 
 when I saw you on the brink of everlasting 
 
THE PBODIGAL RECLAIM! l>. 
 
 ruin, did I not send my servants to warn you 
 of your dan Did 1 not commission my 
 
 prophets, 'risii irly and sending them/ to 
 
 warn you to ' flee from the wrath to conn 
 
 And last of all, did I not send my well- 
 
 loved Son into the world, saying, they will 
 reverence my son« And he < into the 
 
 world, and laid down his precious life to 
 ransom guilty men, to ransom you. from the 
 sentence of a broken law i Have I not sent 
 my Spirit to convince you * of sin, of right- 
 eousness, and of judgment to come,' and 
 have you not felt his influences on your own 
 soul ? ' What more could have been done to 
 my vineyard that I have not done in it V 
 
 •' But I see you are bent upon sin, and as 
 1 desire you to act advisedly in this great 
 matter, on which ban £rs the fate of vour un- 
 dying soul. I call heaven to record this day 
 against you, that I have set before you life 
 and death. Deut. 30 : 1~>. In keeping my 
 commandments there is great reward. You 
 shall enjoy my favor which is life, and my 
 loving-kindne.-s which is better than life. 
 If you will delight yourself in the Lord, 
 6* 
 
66 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 I will cause you to ride upon the high places 
 of the earth, and will feed you with the her- 
 itage of Jacob. Isa. 58 : 13. It shall be 
 well with you on the earth ; it shall be well 
 with you in the hour of death ; and when you 
 are called from time to eternity, you shall 
 inherit a kingdom prepared for you from the 
 foundation of the world. I will take you to 
 myself, that where I am, there you may be 
 also. You shall sit on a throne of glory, and 
 to a harp of gold, you shall sing the songs of 
 praise, and rejoice in the blessedness of 
 heaven for ever and ever. But if you will 
 still persist in your present resolution to depart 
 from the living God ; if, when I call, you will 
 not hear, and when I stretch out my hand, 
 you will not regard [Proverbs 1: 24 — 28J, I 
 also will laugh at your calamity, and mock 
 when your fear cometh. It is an evil and a 
 bitter thing to forsake the Lord thy God 
 [Jer. 2: 19] ; and you will find it so in your 
 own sad experience. Sin may, for a season, 
 be sweet to the taste, but at last it biteth like 
 a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. Prov. 
 23 : 32. The time cometh when you will 
 
THK PRODIGAL RE( LAIMED. 67 
 
 repent in anguish of soul, that you ever broke 
 my law, and - ;t naught my counsel. I 
 will rain snares, tire, and brimstone, upon you, 
 and a horrible tern shall be the por- 
 
 tion of your cup. Psalm II: 6. Sou shall 
 not live out half your days. Psalm 55: *-M. 
 u will live 'without God,' and die 'without 
 hope,' and then L r o away ' into everlasting 
 fire prepared for the devil and his angels.' 
 Mat. 25: 4i. Where I am there you shall 
 never come. When the door of mercy is 
 shut for ever, you will stand without, and 
 knock long and loud, crying, Lord, Lord, 
 open unto me. Uut from within I will an- 
 
 er, ' Depart from me, ye workers of 
 iniquity.' There shall be weeping and 
 
 ashing of teeth, when you shall see Abra- 
 ham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the 
 prophets in the kingdom of God, and you 
 
 urself thrust out. Luke 13: '2d. O that 
 thou wert wise, that thou understood this, 
 that thou wouldst consider thy latter end. 
 Dent. 89 : 29i M 
 
 Tims might the infinite God and Fath 
 remonstrate with you. All these counsels, 
 
68 THE PRODIGAL, RECLAIMED", 
 
 and promises, and threatenings, are addressed 
 to you, as directly and personally as if you 
 were the only prodigal in the family of man, 
 and you have never opened that book of 
 God, without finding a Father's warnings, 
 and a Father's entreaties, to children deter- 
 mined to go astray. And when you read of 
 the prodigal son who listened unmoved to the 
 ardent prayers and faithful warnings of his 
 aged parent, and was still resolved that he 
 would break through all restraints, and follow 
 the leadings of his own corrupt desires, you 
 thought he must be a hard-hearted, ungrateful 
 wretch, who deserved to be driven from his 
 father's door, a beggar. But you did not 
 reflect that that father is your heavenly 
 Father, and that son yourself! You did not 
 reflect that you had thus basely demanded 
 your portion of the goods, that you might 
 enjoy them here ; that you had thus deter- 
 mined to slight the love that had followed you 
 unceasingly, from infancy until the present 
 hour ; and in spite of all the motives drawn 
 from love, and fear, and hope, that you were 
 rushing on toward your own ruin. And, if 
 
THi: PBODIGAL RECLAIMED. 69 
 
 now you seek some pallialioo of your bnse 
 ingratitude u cannot recall one unjust com- 
 mand, one unkind word, one ungracious look, 
 from your Father in heaven. God is lov 
 
 H - loaded von with bene6f . And when 
 i think of departing Prom God, and seeking 
 
 ppiness in other pursuits than his service 
 and love, all these mercies crowd before you 
 as accusing witnesses. He never command 
 
 you to do any thing unreasonable, or that is 
 not calculated to make you happy here and 
 hereafter, and you are altogether inexcusable 
 for not obeying every precept that was ever 
 
 sued from bis throne. 
 
 But why should I follow this analogy fur- 
 the It is imperfect only because the sin- 
 ner's conduct, your conduct, is infinitely more 
 un: nab;.' and wicked, than that of any 
 profl' son, who has broken away from an 
 
 earthly parent, and beco prodigal. Vou 
 
 f love that no earthly parent ever 
 felt ; against motives that no earthly parent 
 could uri^e ; raints that no 
 
 irthly po uld interpoa . And if your 
 
 heart was touched with sympathy for that 
 
70 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 father, when he implored his son to remain 
 near to him in his declining years, and be 
 with him to close his eyes in death, how will 
 you feel when you behold the Father of 
 angels, the " everlasting Father," bending; 
 from the throne of his glory to beseech such 
 a poor worm of the dust as you are, not to 
 desert him and ruin yourself. Even now, in 
 his holy word, he reasons, remonstrates, and 
 pleads with you. Listen to his voice. " Hear, 
 O heavens, and give ear, O earth. I 
 have nourished and brought up children, and 
 they have rebelled against me." Isa. 1: 2. 
 "As I live, I have no pleasure in the death 
 of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from 
 his way and live ; turn ye, turn ye, for why 
 will ve die?" Ezek. 33 : 11. " I will ren- 
 der to every man according to his deeds : to 
 them who, by patient continuance in well- 
 doing, seek for glory, and honor, and immor- 
 tality, eternal life; but unto them that are 
 contentious, and do not obey the truth, but 
 obey unrighteousness, indignation and wrath, 
 tribulation and anguish, upon every soul of 
 man that doeth evil." Rom. 2: 6 — 9. 
 
TI1F PROOIG LL RECL UMED. 1 1 
 
 u Hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that 
 which is good, and lei your soul delight itself 
 
 in fatness* Incline your ind come unto 
 
 , hear and your soul shall live, and I will 
 
 make an I ing covenant with you. ev< n 
 
 the sure mercies of David." Ua. 55: 2, 3. 
 
 And when all these appeals have failed, and 
 
 you |> t in departing from him, he exclaims 
 
 with parental tenderness, u How shall I L'ive 
 
 thee up, Ephraim ? how shall I deliver thee, 
 
 ael ? my heart is turned within me, my 
 
 ntings are kindled together." Hosea 
 
 11: 3. 
 
 T! ry hour, the eye of the omniscient 
 
 God is fixed upon you. and the heart of Jeho- 
 vah yearns on your behalf. You may be the 
 poorest and most obscure individual on the 
 face of the earth, but you are not unknown 
 to him who sits on the throne of the universe 
 with archangels at hi t. In his presence 
 you are now standing, and in your heart are 
 ying, "Give me the portion of goods that 
 dleth to ii 
 Will you have your portion here? 
 
72 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Parental tenderness — The sailor and his mother — The 
 father yields to the Prodigal Son's request — God will per- 
 mit sinners to take their portion here ; if they choose to 
 have it. 
 
 The father yields to the unreasonable 
 demand of this prodigal son. It was just 
 like a parent to yield, though it would 
 seem to us that a stern refusal, with a merited 
 rebuke, would have been better for the reck- 
 less boy. 
 
 Parents often yield to the unreasonable 
 requests of their children. So our heavenly 
 Father sometimes suffers his creatures to have 
 their own way, warning them of the conse- 
 quences that will follow their transgression of 
 his laws. Such language as this once fell 
 from the lips of infinite wisdom and parental 
 love : " Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth ; 
 and let thy heart cheer thee in the days pf 
 thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, 
 
TllF. NODICAL RECLAIMED. 7:* 
 
 and in the right of thine ; but know 
 
 thou that for all tl - God will bring; 
 
 thee into jud it." Ecc. II: 9. 
 
 In one of the seaports of .New England, 
 there was a mother who doated on a well 
 
 beloved son. "He was the only son of bis 
 
 . and she was a widow." Her fond 
 indulge nee had been sadly and un fully 
 
 abused : her counsels and prayers, and tears, 
 had been slighted and scorned ; and as he 
 grew in y lie grew in vice, and became 
 
 and more impatient of the slight restraint 
 of a widowed mother's voice and love. He 
 resolved to go to sea, and in the roving life of 
 the free sailor, on the broad ocean or the 
 distant shore, to find that pleasure which his 
 heart lusted after. Many of his young com- 
 mons had gone to sea. and whenever they 
 re in port, he listened with delight to the 
 tales they told of " fun and frolic, ? ' and his 
 mind was fixed to go along with them. lie 
 came to his mother and told her of his intended 
 project. I will not, for I cannot, describe the 
 gtlish of that mother's heart, when that dear 
 bat wayward son announced his cruel purpo 
 1 
 
74 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 and prepared to leave her cottage and become 
 a wanderer " o'er the world's wide waste." 
 His sailor's chest was hastily filled with the 
 little store her scanty means would afford ; 
 she divided unto him her living; she would 
 have given her life to have turned him from 
 his purpose ; but as he would not stay, she 
 exhausted a mother's love and care to provide 
 the means to make him comfortable when he 
 should be far from her and home. Detaining 
 him for a moment as he was just leaving the 
 door, and impressing upon his cheek a part- 
 ing kiss, she put into his hand a little volume, 
 and with a voice almost choked with tears, 
 she said : 
 
 "My son, I shall never, never see your 
 face on earth again. You will never hear 
 me begging you to come to Jesus Christ for 
 the pardon of your sins, but this book will 
 tell you all that 1 would say. It is the Bible ; 
 take it, my son, your mother's parting, dying 
 gift. I cannot live, when you, my earthly all, 
 are gone, but as my last request, I ask you to 
 read this book. You will sometimes think of 
 me, and of home, and of the times when you, 
 
TBI PRODIGAL RECUU1UCD. 75 
 
 a happy boy, were in your mother's arms ; 
 you will think of mc y and than go to your 
 chest and get this book and read it. Will 
 you, John 
 
 u l . mother, yes, I will; good-by." 
 Ptrewell, my son ; God bless you, John ; 
 may \\ o meet in heaven." 
 
 The Bible was locked in his chest, and he 
 was soon on the deep, and far from home. 
 
 It was evening, and the calmness of the 
 hour invited thoughts of her whom he had 
 left. The thousand deeds of tenderness and 
 love with which she had followed him from 
 his childhood, now came over him, reproach- 
 ing him for his base desertion. Scarcely 
 knowing why, but obeying the last promise he 
 had made, he went to his chest, and taking 
 out his Bible, sat down by a light to read. 
 He opened to that precious chapter of Isaiah, 
 which you would do well to read before you 
 
 down to sleep to-night, \\\e fifty-fifth, and 
 as he read the srvnuh \\. be wept like a 
 child. "Let the wicked forsake his way, 
 and the unrighteous man his thoughts ; and 
 let him return unto the Lord, and he will have 
 
16 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED* 
 
 mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will 
 abundantly pardon." It was an arrow to his 
 soul. But with the impression still deep that 
 he ought to repent and turn to God, he closed 
 the book, and conscious of his half willingness 
 to come back, he joined his thoughtless mess- 
 mates, and with the jest and song soon drove 
 away all thoughts of his mother and his Sav- 
 iour! That was a decisive moment. He 
 plunged deeply into sin, and became re- 
 nowned on board the vessel for the profane- 
 ness of his tongue, and his contempt of all 
 that was good. Now and then an hour of 
 reflection would come, and brin^ thoughts of 
 her whom he had forsaken, and of Him whose 
 name he had blasphemed. But such hours 
 came seldom, and such struggling thoughts 
 were soon drowned. He hardened himself 
 in sin and became a prodigal. 
 
 He wandered on foreign shores, and there 
 rioted in all the indulgences which his de- 
 praved heart desired. Disease seized him 
 among strangers, — that disease which the 
 lovers of sinful pleasures often suffer in the 
 righteous judgment of God, — and he was 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 77 
 
 stretched on a dying bed. beyond the reach 
 of human aid. He called for his Bible, and 
 its holv leaves were constantly before him, 
 and its solemn truths came home to his heart. 
 But they came only to make his dying hours 
 more miserable, and to give him a dread fore- 
 taste of future wrath and woe. He saw that 
 he had trampled on all its love, refused all 
 its calls, despised all its promises, and laughed 
 at all its threatenings ; and now, when death 
 stood at his bedside, and hell opened on his 
 dyiog eye, he groaned in agony over his 
 wicked career of sin, while he confessed the 
 justice of God in turning a deaf ear to his 
 expiring cm He died with the Bible in 
 his hand ; a poor, lost prodigal. 
 
 When the prodigal in the gospel made his 
 request, the anxious father gave him his por- 
 tion, and let him go. The sinner departing 
 from the living God, does not go without his 
 portion. God will give his creatures their por- 
 tion in this world, if they prefer to have it here, 
 rather than in the world to com This is one 
 of the settled principles of his government. 
 He deals with men as rational creatures. 
 -# 
 
78 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 He gives them their choice, and if they pre- 
 fer misery to happiness, hell to heaven, it is 
 theirs. Fearful as the thought may be, it is 
 the fact on which may be suspended the 
 precious interests of your soul. 
 
 How was it with the angels that kept not 
 their first estate ? They were happy in his 
 presence, rejoicing in the light of his smiles, 
 and filling heaven with their holv songs of 
 praise. They chose to break away from his 
 service, and seek their own pleasure in the 
 ways of sin. And he did not hold them 
 back. With all their mighty powers of mirid, 
 " angels, though in ruin," he suffered them to 
 go. The doors of glory were thrown wide 
 open, and the army of apostate spirits took 
 their "journey into a far country," to spend 
 their substance "in riotous living," in hell. 
 They are prodigals to this hour. 
 
 So was it with our first parents. In the 
 blessedness of their first creation, holy and 
 happy, they were not compelled to serve God. 
 They were left free to stand or fall. They 
 chose to sin, to forsake the God who made 
 them and loved them. They preferred to be 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL RECLAMED. 7 ( J 
 
 prodigals, and God let them have their own 
 way ; and they made themselves as miserable 
 as they became BID fill, 
 
 ^ our own consciousness bears witness that 
 (iod has dealt just so with you. In all your 
 past transgressions f God's holy law, you 
 must be conscious that you have had your 
 own way. You are having it now. And 
 if you wish still to forsake God, and go farther 
 and farther from him into the forbidden path 
 of sin, he will sutler vou to iro, rather than 
 train you by any violence to your own 
 choic Nay more; if you want the means 
 of enjoyment in your apostasy, perhaps he 
 them, holding VO u accountable for 
 the use you make of them. 
 
 LlF] sing. God permits sinners to 
 
 li\ Even after you hav** deliberately re- 
 solved to 1st in sin, Cod may spare your 
 life. He most hold you up or you could 
 not live a mom' tnd he does uphold you 
 while you brandish the weapons of your 
 warfap n« He must prolong your 
 breath, though i spent* id defy- 
 
 2 his will. He moves vour life-blood 
 
80 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 through all its winding course, though every 
 time your heart beats, it is in rebellion 
 against him. Thus he gives you " good 
 things," though your life thus given, is spent 
 in wicked efforts to dishonor him, and mar the 
 happiness of his kingdom. And the very 
 fact, that you are this moment living in God's 
 world, breathing his air, rejoicing in his sun- 
 light, and reposing under his care, is constant 
 evidence that he is willing to give you the 
 means of being happy, though you squander 
 those means on your own lusts, and abuse 
 your prolonged existence to your own misery 
 and shame. 
 
 Reason is a blessing, and a gift of God to 
 sinners. When the first man would be a 
 prodigal, God did not deprive him of his 
 reason and send him out of Eden a raving 
 maniac, nor a stupid idiot, nor a senseless 
 brute. This w r ould have been just, but God 
 was too kind to do this, even when man 
 had forfeited all claim to his love. His lofty 
 powers of mind, which fitted him to be the 
 companion of angels, were continued to him 
 still, and he was allowed to use them even in 
 
Tin: PBODIGAL RECLAIMED. 81 
 
 the pursuits of -in. Ami when yon have 
 Wtndeced far from (Sod, yon ha\ n blessed 
 
 with reason in its high, unclouded exeici 
 
 v i ur mind is the inlet of ten thousand pleas- 
 ure- that make this life worth enjoying, and 
 
 a prelude to more exalted pleasures in 
 another world. Yon are proud of your in- 
 tellect, but seldom think that it is a gift of 
 God ; that it is a part of that portion which 
 was given you, and with which you departed 
 from God. 
 
 Then there are the gifts of Providence that 
 lie thick in your path. You have had your 
 birth and instruction in a land where the 
 -pel, with its me.- b of love, is constantly 
 inding in your ears, and in your wander- 
 ings this gospel follows you to win you back 
 to your Father's hou The gospel is the 
 
 gift of God to sinners, and to none but sinn< 
 Prodigal as you are of all the gifts of God, 
 there is none which you BO basely v 
 thi And why should 1 k of other 
 
 "goods' that God has so freely he-towed on 
 his sinful creatures : Why should I mention 
 the means of grace with which you are sur- 
 
8*2 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 rounded; the quiet Sabbath that returns so 
 often, inviting you to think of heaven ; the 
 silent witness of your conscience that so often 
 reproves you of your sins ; of the Holy Spirit 
 that strives with you to bring you back to 
 God. You have the Bible in your hand ; 
 you carry it with you in your career of sin, 
 and may always consult its pages for direc- 
 tion whenever the thought of return finds its 
 way to your heart. Tossed on the sea of 
 life, allured among the dangers that have 
 ruined thousands before you, this blessed 
 book has always been at hand as a beacon to 
 w r arn and guide you. Had you followed its 
 direction, long ere this you would have been 
 led back. Had it not been for the impres- 
 sions this book once made on your heart, and 
 which have held you as with chains when 
 temptation has assailed you, long ere this you 
 might have been in hell. 
 
 God has given reason and revelation to 
 prodigal sinners, and w r hat more can a father 
 give, than a knowledge of his will, which is 
 perfectly wise and good, and the means of 
 understanding and doing it. But to prodigals 
 
Tin: FBOD1GAL kkclaimkd. 83 
 
 there are roods that seem more to he desired 
 than th- The voniijr -on. who demanded 
 
 hifl portion, would have thought it hard indeed. 
 had his father riven him a Bible and some 
 
 good advice, and then sent him away. He 
 wanted moiv The good things of this life 
 
 sinners value more than the means of secur- 
 ing life eternal. And even these are not 
 denied by him who is kind even to the un- 
 thankful. The wicked often ahound in riches. 
 It troubled a good man of old to see them 
 having more than heart could wish, while the 
 righteous were poor. The rich man, who 
 lifted up his eyes in the torment of hell, was, 
 on earth, clothed in purple and fine linen, 
 faring sumptuously, while a pious man was 
 lying a beggar at his gate. The same may 
 be your portion and your doom. If the 
 riches that perish with the using, the gold 
 and the silver that supply the means to gratify 
 the unholy appetites of your mind, are the 
 " goods ' that you would have, I have no 
 doubt they will be granted by him who freely 
 gives. But they will only serve to make 
 your future and final ruin more sure and irre- 
 
84 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 trievable. Your bags of gold may sink you 
 deeper into hell. Your riches may make 
 your life a life of care, your death embittered 
 with the keenest pain, your portion in the 
 world to come a portion of unmingled and 
 exquisite woe. 
 
 But you may take the portion of the goods 
 that falleth to you, if you choose to have 
 them. The father of the Prodigal gave the 
 money to his wandering son. God will give 
 you this world, if you would rather have it than 
 the world to come. Will you take it and go 
 on in sin ; or will you turn and live? 
 
 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED* ^3 
 
 HAPTER VI. 
 
 The vouns: man's haste — He gathers all together — He cops 
 into a distant country — The sinner is in to to brenk 
 ■way from God — He n^ks ;ill in the pursuit of sin — He de- 
 parts i ir from (lod. 
 
 II i was in haste to be gone. \ot manv 
 days after, the younger son gathered all 
 together, and took his journey into a far 
 country."' His conduct would have been 
 more decent, had he stayed with his father 
 to support his declining years, even if he had 
 afterwards become a prodigal. But in the 
 wildness of his young heart, he was in haste 
 to be his own master, and in pursuit of the 
 pleasures that looked so tempting to his eyes. 
 He gathered all together. The kindness of 
 his father had given more than was needful 
 to supply his present wants. Hut he would 
 leave none behind. He did not stop to think 
 that he might lo c e his property in the pursuit 
 of sin. and therefore it would be prudent to 
 
86 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 take but a little and venture that at first, and 
 afterwards decide on risking more. No, he 
 would venture all. He took his journey 
 into a far country. Not content with break- 
 ing away from the restraints of his father's 
 house and parental authority, he was deter- 
 mined to fly beyond his reach ; to get as far 
 as possible from home and all the influences 
 which early associations might interpose to 
 hold him back in his gay career. 
 
 Perhaps it was not the intention of the Sav- 
 iour, in this parable, that every part of it 
 should receive a spiritual interpretation, and 
 I would not seek to draw from any part of it, 
 instruction which it does not plainly teach. 
 But the haste of the younger son to be gone, 
 reminds me to say, that the sinner departs 
 from God as soon as he has an opportunity. 
 How early in life you were capable of moral 
 action, and therefore responsible for your 
 conduct, I do not now inquire, for it is not 
 necessary in this connection to determine this 
 question. But it will not be denied, that you 
 began to sin against God as soon as you 
 could sin, and have continued it to the pre- 
 
THE PBODlti LL RSI L LIMED. 87 
 
 nt hour. This is true of every impenitent 
 
 sinner, and you mosl be a rare exception, if 
 
 it be not true of you. And you will remem- 
 r, that in the earliest season of childhood, 
 it was irksome to you to be compelled to re- 
 ceive religious instruction and perform reli- 
 gious duties. Reading the Bible was not as 
 pleasant as the perusal of a trifling tale. 
 Prayer was not a privilege, and the house of 
 God not a favorite resort. The character of 
 God was repulsn You abhorred his holi- 
 •u feared his ju-tice, as these attributes 
 shone out in his word, and threatened you 
 with the punishment due to sin. This was 
 your early experience. It shows how soon 
 you were disposed to depart from God. It 
 shows that " the natural heart is enmity 
 _ainst God/' and that nothing but oppor- 
 tunity is wanted to make that enmity ap- 
 parent. 
 
 Then IS I natural loveliness in early piety, 
 
 but it is a flower that rarely blooms on earth. 
 
 low few are willing to rive the morning of 
 
 their days to the God that made them, and 
 
 to the Saviour who died to redeem them. 
 
88 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 The gay world invites the young heart's love, 
 pleasure promises joy and peace in the paths 
 of sin, and hope whispers that by-and-by it 
 will be time enough to think of God, and 
 heaven, and hell ; and so the youth who 
 should have sought first to make sure work 
 for eternity, rushes, with wild impetuosity, on 
 the course of evil which his wicked heart 
 delights in, and long before he has reached 
 the season of manhood, he has become a 
 prodigal. 
 
 " He gathered all together" The sinner 
 ventures all when he departs from God. 
 All that he has, all that he hopes, all that 
 he is, the sinner puts in peril by persisting 
 in sin. 
 
 " What shall it profit a man, if he gain the 
 whole world and lose his own soul?' 5 But 
 the sinner puts in jeopardy his happiness here, 
 as well as hereafter, when he enters on a life 
 of rebellion against God. This world would 
 be heaven but for sin. A God of mercy has 
 mingled sweetness with the waters that flow 
 through this vale of tears, and if men would 
 not poison the cup before they drink, they 
 
TH1 i'iionn;vi, RIC& vimkd. 89 
 
 would find them vweet to the taste. There 
 i< the bliss of the domestic circle. How the 
 heart beats at the memory of home, and all 
 the fond endearments that cluster about the 
 fireside and the altar. The prodigal of the 
 parable had a home, and might have been 
 happy there, if sin had not enticed him away, 
 and made him a houseless vagabond. Many 
 a home, an earthly paradise, has sin converted 
 into a hell. In every neighborhood there are 
 melancholy evidences of its fatal power. 
 Sin. in various forms, but still sin, and only 
 sin, has invaded the domestic sanctuary, vio- 
 lated the marriage vow, crushed young hearts 
 in the spring-time of their bliss, dried up foun- 
 tains of love, blasted every hope of happi- 
 ness, drummed the cup of life with wormwood 
 and gall, and planted with thorns the path- 
 to the urave. And if sin may invade 
 the purity and peace of the domestic circle, 
 if this sanctuary affords no protection from 
 its wasting breath, what scene of happiness 
 may it not becloud, what source of joy may 
 it not dry up: Sin ha< been, and eyer will 
 . the source of misery ; and he who cher- 
 
 e* 
 
90 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 ishes it in his heart, is warming a serpent that 
 may yet inflict a deadly sting. 
 
 The soul is put in peril by the sinner's 
 choice. You have a soul infinitely more 
 precious than the whole world ; it will live 
 when the " stars shall fade away." 
 
 " The sun is but a spark of fire, 
 A transient meteor in the sky, 
 The soul, immortal as its sire, 
 Shall never die." 
 
 And that deathless soul shall live in the 
 full possession of all the blessedness that God 
 has prepared for them that love him, and 
 spend its eternal state in rising from one point 
 of happiness to another, until it has reached, 
 — no, it never will reach, — a resting-place in 
 the boundless career of glory on which it 
 enters. Or, it will live in the suffering of 
 torments that no tongue can describe, no 
 thought conceive ; and live in that intensity 
 of despair, until it has reached, — no, it never 
 will reach, — a resting-point in the endless 
 misery on which it enters. And when you 
 think of a departure from God, and obstinate 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 91 
 
 continuance in sin, let this thought be first in 
 your mind, M 1 am running the risk of losing 
 this happiness, and of sinking into this woe!" 
 >ok abroad on this wki rid in which 
 
 you live, think of all the sources of enj< 
 men! which are open to the virtuous mind ; 
 look onward, and upward, to the bliss that 
 awaits the blest in the presence of God ; 
 think of being an angel with vast and grow- 
 
 : powers, receiving constantly new supplies 
 of happiness, as the streams of knowledge 
 and holiness flow into your soul, filling for 
 r. yet never full, like " light into a foun- 
 tain running o'er;' 5 think of that inheritance 
 incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not 
 aw rod bear in mind that every moment 
 you remain in sin, you risk it all. It is a 
 
 rful hazard, 
 lie prodigal d "all 1 together, 
 
 lture- and lost it. But what was it ? 
 
 A bag i f sold ! 
 
 Yu i risk more. II- I, holiness, a 
 throne, a crown, a priceless crown of glo; 
 
 I at the rijit hand of the majesty on 
 high, the smiles of God, the everlasting hap- 
 
92 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 piness of the immortal soul, all this you peril 
 when you persist in sin. Will you run the 
 risk ? If you were on the threshold of your 
 father's house, and knew that by leaving the 
 door you would incur a father's displeasure, 
 forfeit all expectation of receiving any thing 
 from his estate, become an outcast on the 
 world, a beggar, a vagabond, a slave, would 
 you go ? If you were standing at the door 
 of heaven, and knew that by turning your 
 back on him who asked you to enter, you 
 would lose all hope of ever gaining admission 
 to that blest abode, would you turn away and 
 become a prodigal ? 
 
 Coming back to the parable, we find a youth 
 whose course was much like yours. He is 
 just ripening into manhood, and the brightest 
 prospects of earthly good are spread before 
 him. But he gathers all together, and takes 
 his journey into a far country. Why does 
 he quit his father's house? Has he a happier 
 home in the distance toward which he bends 
 his steps? Has he houses and lands afar off 
 which he must visit ? No. He is leaving 
 his only home, and his only hope. Is he 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL : D. ( .>*> 
 
 flying away from a tyrant father, whose bai 
 commands and terrible blows have made his 
 • a place of fear, and alienated the 
 children's hearts? O, no. That wandering 
 child has been nursed on the lap of kindness, 
 I at a bountiful table, olothed in purple and 
 
 fine linen, surrounded with all that could 
 make home sweet to the young heart, and 
 now he turn? his back on all, an exile from 
 home, a prodigal son. That wanderer from 
 bis father's house is a picture of even sinner 
 :1 in his Bins. Perhaps the prodigal is the 
 
 :er of this page. 
 Ti man pursued his journey into a 
 
 r countnj. The sinner is for from God. Sin 
 te of separation from God. This con- 
 stitutes at once the guilt and misery of sin. 
 Ther | sense in which the sinner cannot 
 
 depart from God. "If 1 ascend up into 
 heaven, thou art there. If I make my bed 
 in hell, behold thou art tl If I say, 
 
 Surelv the darkness shall r me, even the 
 
 ni'dit shall be light about me. The darkness 
 hideth not from tin Psalm 139. Guilt 
 
 flies from God. The first sinner hid himself 
 
94 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 in the garden, lest he should meet the eye of 
 Him whose law he had broken, and whose 
 curse he had incurred. But the eye that 
 never sleeps can pierce the darkest recess, 
 gaze on the coward culpritj and fill his soul 
 with awe and shame. In this sense the sin- 
 ner never can be far from God. Even hell 
 shall feel for ever that " God is there," by 
 the terror of his wrath, taking vengeance on 
 them that will not repent. But there is 
 another and a higher sense, in which it is 
 most fearfully true, that sin separates the soul 
 from God. " Without holiness no man shall 
 see the Lord." Heb. 12: 14. Sin is the 
 veil, the wall, that stands between the sinner 
 and a holy God. " Your iniquities have sep- 
 arated between you and your God, and your 
 sins have hid his face from you." Isa. 59: 2. 
 Remove that cloud of sin from the sinner's 
 soul, and he would stand in a blessed relation 
 to God ; he would converse with him as a 
 man converseth with his friend, and feel at 
 home amidst the manifestations of his glory. 
 Heaven is the presence of God ; holiness 
 makes heaven* And the longer the soul pur- 
 
THE PRODIG w. aEOL LIMED. 
 
 sues the path of sin, the g re at e r becomes the 
 tance between it and the source of good, 
 the more difficult and hopeless its return, and 
 the more miserable its ruin. While all the 
 motives that three worlds combined can fur- 
 nish, urge the sinner to come hack, while the 
 i>[ tbe Father throws innumerable har- 
 riers in the way of departure, and holds out 
 all conceivable facilities of return ; while 
 heaven invites and hell threatens, the wretch- 
 prodigal j blind to his interests and reckless 
 of immortal happiness, pursues his journey 
 into a far counti \ Did he understand the 
 ;! nature and tendency of sin, as a state of 
 al separation from God, and heaven, and 
 pe ind joy, he would cry out, as he felt 
 
 the loneliness of his lost condition, 
 
 •• \\ !ni h, whither shall I go, — 
 
 \ mnetehed wmndsrei from the Lord, — 
 
 irk VTOrld «>t* Hfl and w l 
 
 irliinpsi «-t happiness afford?" 
 
 He would see that sin was preparing him for 
 that awful hour, when the gathered wrath of 
 an insulted and slighted, a deterted Father, 
 
96 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 shall utter itself in one word that shall seal 
 the eternal doom of all the prodigals in the 
 universe. Would you hear that word ? Would 
 you stand among the wretched throng of 
 prodigals, summoned from the far countries 
 to which they had wandered, and now drag- 
 ged back to judgment? Would you make 
 one of that miserable assembly on whose 
 affrighted ears that awful word shall break ? 
 
 11 Thou lovely Chief of all my joys, 
 Thou Sovereign of my heart, 
 How could I bear to hear thy voice 
 Pronounce the sound, DEPART?" 
 
 But why not be glad to hear it then, if now 
 you prefer to depart from God. He but 
 gives you the privilege of having your own 
 way, and when he rises from his throne in 
 judgment, and utters the final sentence on 
 your ruined soul, he does no more than seal 
 the choice ) r ou make to-day. With the per- 
 fect understanding, that sin is a state of sep- 
 aration from God, that the farther you wander 
 the more miserable you will be, and the more 
 probable that you will never return, you are 
 
Tin: pbodigal reclaimed. !)7 
 
 still resolved U) L r <>. And when he fixes his 
 
 e on you, among the millions railed up to 
 
 hear their doom in the great day of final 
 account, remember that on the day when you 
 
 id these lines, you made a choice that justly 
 
 posed you to that sentence which separates 
 you for ever from the presence of God. 
 
 "Depart!" O, how that sentence will 
 fall on the ear of the finally impenitent in the 
 last day I They who were always far from 
 God, will then be filled with dismay, as they 
 find that that separation is to be eternal. 
 Pr lis whom no love could win back, will 
 then bewail their departure, and feel, that the 
 guilt and misery of sin are now justly the 
 portion of those who have deserted their 
 father's house. 
 
98 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Riotous living — The follies and vices of youth — Dancing, 
 gaming, play-going, licentiousness, and other sins — The 
 sinner wastes his substance, his time, talents, oppor- 
 tunities, parental counsel, the Holy Spirit, the blood of the 
 Son of God. 
 
 Throwing the rein on the neck of his 
 passions, the young man dashed madly on in 
 the highway to ruin. The parable does not 
 mention the steps of his downward course, 
 the several sins by which he was reduced to 
 beggary and shame, but it tells us, in one 
 comprehensive remark, that in the far country 
 he wasted his substance in riotous living. 
 But we need no inspired pen to write the 
 record of a prodigal's ruin. It will be easy, 
 without a guide, to follow r him from one haunt 
 of vice to another, his extravagance gradually 
 increasing, his moral sense declining, his 
 passions growing more and more inflamed, 
 the restraints of early instruction becoming 
 less powerful, until his property, health, 
 
n. 
 
 character, sell- re all gone, and h< 
 
 • a wivi i ibe of pleasure at 
 
 tl) v of wind- 
 
 Li the op ning of this little I . I ha 
 told • ■ story of a young man whose early 
 i it was that led to tfa iparation of these 
 id the r r will remember that the 
 ja regular i r of v'k 
 "inning with amusements that in themseh 
 ■ innoc and terminating in sin- that 
 
 y make w of property, reputation, 
 
 lif! >e. Let us look at som 
 
 pursuits, so iting to the young heart, 
 
 and learn I iture and their final tendency. 
 
 W igant young man, the orna- 
 
 nt of a BALL-ROOM, and happy in the gay 
 circle of which h au\ pride; and 
 
 he. . hirl of tin* dance, b< an 
 
 ipation that ended in a death 
 of horror, the wry remembrance of whi< 
 though have si ice tied, now fills i 
 
 with Tear ! 
 
 )U will, perhaps, t< II me that "there is a 
 
 t'.::j<' to danc> and that there can he no 
 sin or (i r in visiting the hall-room now 
 
 and then. There an ns when, beyond 
 
100 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 all doubt, it is not a time to dance. Thus, 
 it is not a time to dance, 
 
 1. When it is a time to mourn. You 
 would not dance at a funeral, or when your 
 friend was dying, or your house was burning, 
 or your life in danger. But if your sins are 
 still unrepented of and unforgiven, with youit 
 is a time to mourn. You ought to be in bit- 
 terness as one who is in bitterness for his first- 
 born. Your soul in danger ! Your interests 
 for eternity about to be ruined ! Your all 
 about to be burned up in the fire that is never 
 quenched ! Your friends about to perish, 
 and with these dangers thick around you, will 
 you dance ? 
 
 2. When more important business presses 
 for attention. If an opportunity offers of 
 making a handsome sum of money, you 
 would not lose the offer for the sake of spend- 
 ing an evening in the ball-room. You would 
 answer the invitation by saying, that "busi- 
 ness calls me away and I must be excused. 55 
 But have you nothing to do to secure the 
 pearl of great price, riches for eternity, the sal- 
 vation of your precious soul, and will you spend 
 perhaps the last hour of time in dancing? 
 
TH1 puoihual \imkd. 101 
 
 •'). When you are on the verge of hell ! 
 \ u would not dance on a precipe I ou 
 
 would not dance on slip] places while fiery 
 billows roll below. Dancing there would 
 
 enible I the antics of a madman, than 
 
 the rational amusements of a sound mind. 
 
 ;t many a hall has there been on the 
 threshold of hell. 
 
 A few yean ago, at a hall in New Hamp- 
 shire, four young men left the room to spend 
 a little time in a ^ame of cards, and while 
 they w( I play, one of them fell back in a 
 
 and d His companions covered up his 
 
 body with cloaks, returned to the dance, and 
 
 J nothing of the awful event, lest it should 
 
 oil the cport of the evening. 
 
 One of the first balls which the young man, 
 whose history opens this boo er attended, 
 
 s marked by the following impressive inci- 
 
 :it. On the very I >f the hall, a young 
 
 lady who had been invited, and who was 
 intending to he present, was summoned sud- 
 
 nlv into t rial world. Her residence 
 
 - 
 
 was directly public bouse in 
 
 which th^ rably was to be held. The 
 
 9* 
 
102 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 doleful news of her sudden death spread 
 rapidly, and as there was no time to make 
 new arrangements, the party gathered at the 
 appointed hour, and then the question was 
 seriously debated among the managers, 
 whether they should go on with the dance, 
 or adjourn to another evening. It was de- 
 cided to go on, and the ball did go on, though 
 in the front chamber of the house across the 
 street, sat melancholy watchers by the corpse 
 of one whose sleep was not disturbed by the 
 mirth and music in which she expected to 
 join. I knew some of the youth that were 
 there that night, and I know that some of 
 them were sad as they now and then looked 
 out of the window, and saw the lone, dim 
 light in the house of death. 
 
 Is it safe to dance when death is so near at 
 hand ? So long, then, as you are living 
 without a good hope of heaven, you have no 
 time to spend in thoughtless amusements, 
 however innocent in themselves they may be. 
 
 Nor is that amusement innocent which ex- 
 poses one to danger. It may be innocent to 
 sport on the ice, but if the most of those who 
 
Tin: PftODIGAL RECLAIMED. 103 
 
 have ventured on it have perished, would you 
 try it because it is an innocent amusement? 
 And are there no positive evils that threaten 
 the votaries of the danc- 
 
 I< not the health exposed It is common 
 to dance in warm rooms, in cold weather, in 
 thin clothinir. and the sudden chances of tern- 
 
 rature, to which young and delicate persons 
 are thus subjected, sow the seeds of disease 
 that in many cases terminate in death. ^\Iany 
 heart-broken families, whose fairest flowers 
 have thus been early blighted, will confess 
 that this is true : and vet it is the least con- 
 sideration to be named in such a connection 
 as thi 
 
 Are not assemblies for dancing almost in- 
 variably held in places where intoxicating 
 liquors may be obtained : And do they not 
 form a part of the ning's entertainment ? 
 Many a \oun£ man has here formed the habit 
 of social drinking, and before he or his friends 
 
 re aware of the danger, he has been fast- 
 ened in the arms of the destroyer. 
 
 Is not the gaming-table usually near the 
 ball-room In the country or in the city, 
 
104 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 wherever young people are accustomed to 
 meet for dancing, facilities are provided for 
 those who wish to play, and the bird may 
 escape out of the hand of the fowler sooner 
 than the youth out of the snare of the 
 gambler. 
 
 Dancing is inconsistent with serious anxiety 
 for the salvation of the sou!. Who ever 
 heard a sober word, who ever loved to indulge 
 solemn thoughts, in the mazes of the dance ? 
 Suppose that a company of youth about to 
 enter upon a winter's round of pleasure in 
 dancing schools, balls, and the like, should be 
 impressed by the Holy Spirit with a sense of 
 their sinfulness and danger, and the duty of 
 attending immediately to the concerns of their 
 souls. One of two things is plain ; they 
 must give up their dancing, or drive away 
 their convictions of sin. The two are in- 
 compatible. Which shall they abandon ? 
 Of course vou admit that on no account must 
 they quench the Spirit, and it follows that 
 they must not dance. And if the amusement 
 does tend to make religion an unwelcome 
 visiter, and to drive away all thought of God 
 
TilK PftODIGUL RE< LAIMED. 105 
 
 and the soul's salvation, tin 4 amusement is not 
 
 innocent. It leads to death. It puts in peril 
 the immortal soul. 
 
 Bui David danced. So he did, and danc- 
 ing 1 times formed a part of religious 
 reraonies ; not the modern dancing, the 
 
 •iviou- waltz or the gallopade. but motions 
 of the body which men may make under the 
 influence of hiirh-wrouizht iov. And when 
 you are released from the bondage of sin, 
 and brought out into the liberty of the gos- 
 pel, you may go forth, as the healed cripple, 
 a walk: ind leaping, and praising God.' 3 
 When the younger son, a prodigal, ruined 
 riotous living, came back at last to his 
 father's house, there was music and dancin^ 
 in those glad halls ; and when you come 
 back to God, there shall be joy unspeakable 
 ainon^ the angels around the throne. 
 
 IToung Charles L was a gambler. 
 
 Not by pre >ii, but adoptii it as an 
 
 amu-ement, he MOD found that iramblin^ was 
 I passion, and he had no inclination or power 
 
 to resist its chain Of all the vices to 
 
 which profligate men are addicted, there is 
 
106 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 not one that more rapidly undermines moral 
 principle than this. How soon it destroys 
 the sense of obligation to God and man ! 
 How speedily does natural affection for 
 parents, wife and children give way, that the 
 vile passion may be gratified ! And what sin 
 is there, which the gambler is not ready to 
 commit ? He becomes a thief and a robber 
 almost without knowing it. He will be a 
 murderer, rather than lose the means of 
 play. 
 
 Mark the haoo-ard countenance, the des- 
 perate resolution, the demoniac smile, of that 
 midnight group. Hear the exulting shout, 
 the maddened blasphemy, the half-uttered 
 groan that come up from those haunts well 
 called " hells." Would you make one of 
 their number, partake of their pleasures, and 
 drink of their cup ? Perhaps you are just 
 entering the road that leads to this chamber 
 of death. Perhaps you now and then play 
 a game of cards for the sake of the game, and 
 have never thought of being a gambler. But 
 gaming is a most bewitching sin. Its hold 
 on the heart is like the grasp of death, and 
 
Tin: PR0D1G kL RKCL LIMED. H>~ 
 
 ;ape is like a n i th 4 gra\ Tl 
 
 mor<> vnu play, t!: vou will love to 
 
 play. Many will be ready to lead you step 
 
 ep, till you venture ;i little money, and a 
 little more; lo you with a strong 
 
 • to win. winning tempt- you to play 
 lin : until you are infatuated with the vi 
 
 and are willing to hazard any thing and every 
 thing on the cast of a die. Every thing? 
 : you put your immortal soul, the king- 
 dom of God, your eternal salvation, at stake, 
 with the prospect, almost to a certainty, that 
 vou will lose and be ruined for ever. A 
 
 ■ 
 
 rate game, that strips you. not of your 
 money only, .hut of your hopes for this world 
 and the next. And if now you are taking the 
 
 t steps in the course that thousands before 
 you have traveled, you are on the outer circles 
 of the vortex from which few were e\ 
 delivered till thev were cast out dead. If 
 you can hear the voice 4 of r nstrance, fly 
 from the tempter as you would from the 
 plague. 
 
 The prot iotoos living " was marked 
 
 bv shameful indulgence in the lusts of the 
 
108 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 flesh. Luke 15 : 30. The word of God, 
 particularly the book of Proverbs, often warns 
 the young against the seductive influence of 
 the sin of licentiousness. So prone is the 
 depraved heart of youth to be ensnared by 
 the allurements of sensual pleasure, that not 
 without reason has this been regarded by the 
 inspired writer as one of the most fatal vices 
 into which the sinner falls. If I am not 
 mistaken, the language of the Holy Spirit is 
 stronger in its expression of the destructive 
 influence of this, than of any other sin. As 
 if the very touch were pollution, and indul- 
 gence, death, the wise man has said, " None 
 that go unto her, return again, neither take 
 they hold of the paths of life." Prov. 2 : 19. 
 And again, when referring to the same sin, he 
 writes, " He that doeth it, destroyeth his 
 own soul." 6 : 32. " Her house is the way 
 to hell, going down to the chambers of death." 
 7 : 27. " The dead are there and her guests 
 are in the depths of hell." 9: 18. The 
 peculiar power of this vice is to poison and 
 kill the sensibilities of the soul, so that he 
 who falls into its embrace learns to look on 
 
Tin: ruor>n;\L rfxl \mr.n. 
 
 1 1 19 
 
 himself with contempt even before the world 
 have discovered h\< shame The secrecy of 
 his sin may give him the assurance that 
 
 others respect him, while bis own conscience, 
 
 daily losing its power, reproaches him with 
 beinj a hypocrite and a villain. A fact to 
 illustrate this tendency of this vice fell under 
 my own observation a few davs airo. 
 
 A youn^ r man from the State of Connecti- 
 cut, who had been brought up by pious 
 parents, came to the city of New Vork and 
 was employed as a clerk in a retail dry goods 
 store. .Not many weeks passed away before 
 he had formed acquaintances with young 
 men of loose habits, who led him step by 
 step into the snares of this destroyer. It was 
 necessary that he should have more money 
 than his wages would furnish, and he soon 
 began to pilfer from the till of the store. 
 II nployer, a pious man, perceived the 
 alteration in his clerk's deportment, his averted 
 eye, whenever any one looked him in the face, 
 his anxious countenance, as if his rest had 
 been often broken ; and watching his conduct 
 narrowly, the merchant became convinced 
 
 in 
 
110 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 that the young man was on the highway to 
 ruin. He laid a plan to detect him, if he 
 should make free with the money of his 
 employer, and his worst suspicions were 
 confirmed. One morning, as the young man 
 came to the store, the merchant took him 
 into his counting-room, charged him with 
 taking money for the sake of indulging in vice, 
 and as the guilty wretch was compelled to 
 admit the truth of the charges, he was sent 
 home in disgrace and shame to his parents, 
 whose gray hairs he will, in all probability, 
 bring down with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 It is with clear conviction of the truth, that 
 I believe the reformation of a gambler, a 
 robber, a drunkard, a murderer, more hopeful 
 than that of a confirmed libertine. All these 
 sinners may have some tie unsevered that 
 moral influence may touch to save. But the 
 heart of a man who has given himself up to 
 the indulgence of sensual appetites, is a mass 
 of moral corruption in which no good thing 
 can live. In the most solemn places, under 
 the most solemn appeals, his mind wanders 
 and fastens on the most loathsome thoughts, 
 
Tin: PBOOIGAL NEC laimi;d. Ill 
 
 crowding out all tl ■• s stioos that divine 
 truth may ui When parental a6fectioo y or 
 
 ter's I would win bira back to the path 
 of virtue, be feels, and that is bis only feeling] 
 that he is a i ided being, unfit for lb «n- 
 munion of refined and delicate mind- ; he 
 des the paternal roof and the social pic. - 
 ures of the cheerful fin . choosing rather 
 the company of those whose heart-, like his 
 own, are i in vic< . 
 
 Remember, then. O sinner, that the same 
 ^Innings which played around Sinai when 
 the sixth command was written, attended and 
 confirmed the SEVENTH. Remember, that the 
 purity of heaven is never stained by the 
 presence of an adulterer. And I warn you 
 now, perhaps at the outset of your ape 
 fro.., (i i I, that one r]e step in this sin is 
 more danL r,i rous and deplorable than the fij 
 
 p in your brother's blood. 
 
 I might follow the prodigal onward through 
 oil which attend I" riotous 
 
 living,' and speak of his profaneness, his 
 Sabbath-breaking, bis intemperance, but these 
 sins are so often made the the theme of re- 
 
112 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 mark, and the word of God is so full and 
 severe in its declarations against those who 
 " do these things/ 5 that I forbear. 
 
 It is more than likely that you have read 
 these details of particular sins with the proud 
 consciousness of your own innocence, say- 
 ing all the while to your own soul, 1 am no 
 gambler, or drunkard, or debauchee. But if 
 innocent, you are not beyond the power of 
 temptation. And though you have never 
 plunged headlong into vice, and in your own 
 eye and that of the world you may be a model 
 of virtue, in the sight of him who looks on 
 the heart, and who estimates character by the 
 discovery he makes when he looks within, you 
 may be guilty. 
 
 Lay thy hand, then, on thy heart, reader, 
 and in the presence of the great Searcher of 
 hearts answer the inquiries now made of your 
 inmost soul. In the secrecy of that breast, 
 art not thou conscious of indulging some of 
 those sins which have been spread before 
 thee ? Have not desires after forbidden pleas- 
 ures often reigned in thy heart ? Had not 
 God restrained thy corrupt passions, to what 
 
THI PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 1 J 3 
 
 lengths in sin wouldst thou not lorn: since have 
 
 o 
 
 gone : And though to-day the world doih 
 
 not know thee to he a gambler, or profane 
 
 swearer, or adulterer, is it not true, that foul 
 
 thoughts have been cherished in thy heart, 
 
 until b< this hour, had it not been lor 
 
 straining _ -, thou wouldst bav< en 
 
 ruined. The Tear of man may have been a 
 barri< Regard lor reputation, lor the feel- 
 
 gs of friend-, and the fear of disease, and 
 death, and hell, may have stood between thee 
 and the sin that so easily besets thee ; but 
 has not thy heart often lusted after some 
 forbidden object, and pleaded passionately for 
 guilty indulgence If thy near friends knew 
 thee as well as thou knowest thy own heart, 
 where wouldst thou bide from the face of 
 
 man ? 
 
 And why pursue these inquiries They 
 are simply intended to produce conviction of 
 personal apostasy from our Father in heaven. 
 And is no: ry mouth stopped ? Who has 
 not ^one Where is the man, the 
 
 woman, the child, that is not a prodigal from 
 God ; wasting, in riotous living, the rich pro- 
 10* 
 
114 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 visions which a father has made for their 
 present and eternal good ? 
 
 The sinner's fancied innocence of the vile 
 sins which defiled and ruined the prodigal, 
 serves as a shelter against personal convic- 
 tion, and the reader may feel that the illustra- 
 tion has advanced so far beyond his case that 
 it has lost its particular application. You 
 may have even wondered that rational men 
 could so basely and wickedly prostitute their 
 immortal natures, in the follies and crimes of 
 abandoned profligacy ; and thus wondering, 
 you have forgotten that this parable is a portrait 
 of every individual who has apostatized from 
 the God of heaven. You are the prodigal 
 who has thus shamefully wandered, and madly 
 wasted your substance in riotous living. Be- 
 cause you have never staked your property 
 at the gambling-table, you forget that you 
 have ventured your soul ! Because you have 
 never, like the prodigal, wasted your living 
 among harlots, you forget that you have pol- 
 luted your soul with criminal indulgence in 
 unhallowed desires, until you must be an 
 object of abhorrence in the sight of Infinite 
 
MB PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 115 
 
 Purity. Because you have never been in- 
 temperate, you f I that you have drank of 
 the water- of worldly pleasure until you have 
 intoxicated your soul. Since ** riotous living J 
 has not led you into the uross vices of aban- 
 doned men, you forget the wicked prodigality 
 with which you have consumed the portion 
 which your Father gave you. 
 
 The young man in the parable left his 
 father's door, loaded with the irold and silver 
 which an indulgent parent had bestowed. 
 And when you saw him spending the wealth 
 that might have made him comfortable in 
 his old age, in the vanities of youthful amuse- 
 ments, and in the more criminal pursuits of 
 sin, you were astonished at his profligacy, and 
 dis_ 1 with his crim I > u t you forget 
 
 that other prodigal loaded with greater riches, 
 wasting them with wilder extravagance, and 
 rapidly reducing himself to more distressing 
 
 :it. II gold. Son are a spend- 
 
 thrift of glor. II-' wasted treasures that 
 
 pe d with the using. Fou v. is- 
 
 lirea that might be your- for ever. He sacri- 
 ficed on the shrine of his idolatry, wealth, 
 
116 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 honor, health and hope ; you offer to the god 
 of your idolatry, time, talents, opportunities, 
 heaven, your radiant crown, your throne at 
 the right hand of God. Which of these two, 
 the prodigal of the parable, or the prodigal 
 who reads, do you judge to be the most ex- 
 travagant and the most wicked ? Recall the 
 gifts of God which you have thus abused and 
 wasted, perhaps to your own ruin. 
 
 Time. For what was it given ? For you 
 to prepare for eternity. How have you im- 
 proved it ? As if there was no hereafter. In 
 the very morning of your days, you gathered 
 all together, and took your journey into a far 
 country. At that time, in the dawn of your 
 being, when your heart began to exhibit its 
 corruption and its proud resistance to your 
 Father's will, God did not come out in right- 
 eous judgment and cut you off. And all along 
 in your past wanderings, every moment of 
 time that has been extended, has been the 
 fruit of kind forbearance. Nothing is more 
 uncertain than the hold you have on time. 
 Though heaven or hell may hang on the 
 thread of life, it has held you up to the present 
 
Tin: PBODIGAL ki:iiaimi:d, I 17 
 
 hour. Many have fallen, while jret you live. 
 Pause a moment as jou read and while 
 
 you pause, an immortal soul ha< passed into 
 the world of spin It was not yours, hut 
 
 the next may 1 When death will come to 
 
 or bouse, you know not. He may come 
 to-morrow or to-day. 
 
 u ] - bare their time t<> fall. 
 And flowers to wither at tin' north wind's breath, 
 
 An. I . but all, 
 
 Thou hast all Masons far thine o\vn,() Death !" 
 
 And this time, so precious, so uncertain, 
 how have you valued and improved it? Al 
 if eternity depended on it As if when 
 lost, it were lost for ever? Much of it is 
 already gone ; what progress have you made 
 in preparation for heaven r 
 
 Thus far, you have spent your time in the 
 pursuit of this vain world, a- if this were to he 
 
 or only inheritance ; as if you had an eter- 
 nal I of life, and a security against the 
 
 arrest of death. Instead ofmakii ady for 
 
 the world to come you have lived as if tin 
 were no luawn. no hell, no future. < K how 
 
 prodigal you have been of time! 
 
118 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 Your powers of mind. Who clothed you 
 with these powers, that liken you to angels, 
 and if improved aright will fit you for their 
 companionship hereafter? Who, but the 
 Giver of all good. And have you dedicated 
 them to his service ? Have you used them 
 all, in the work of exalting his glory, sustain- 
 ing the honor of his laws, and the justice of 
 his throne ? This is your duty, from which 
 there is no release. For this those powers of 
 mind were given, and the very possession of 
 them makes your accountability perfect, so 
 that you may feel the force of God's law and 
 your obligation to obey. 
 
 And now I ask you to look at the use you 
 have made of those noble powers. Not a 
 thought of your mind was ever set supremely 
 on God. And those affections implanted in 
 your heart that you might love your Maker 
 and be loved for ever in return, not one of those 
 affections was ever placed on him whom 
 angels love. But you have wasted those 
 powers in sin, you have loved the world and 
 the things that are in the world ; and have 
 hated God and his service. A viler prodi- 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL reclaimed. 119 
 
 lity does not mark the apostasy of one of 
 God' atom . 
 
 What opportunities you have wasted! 
 
 How many precious Sabhaths have you 
 
 squandered ; or a< you have wasted more than 
 
 i can now roe all and count, let me ask, if 
 
 r spent ONE Sabbath in the undivided 
 
 and worship of God? Did you e?ei 
 begin one of tfa d days with prayer, 
 
 and improve each moment as it passed, in 
 read in ir God's word, in meditating on divine 
 things, in attending on the services of God's 
 ho or in the public or private acts of 
 
 religious duty and privilege ? Xever, never 
 on- And if this Bad answer is true, and 
 the not a doubt of it. then you may cal- 
 
 culate the number of Sabbaths wasted, by 
 iltiplying the 9 of your life by the 
 
 number of Sabbaths in a year. One Sabbath, 
 improved as it should be, might have secured 
 the salvation of vour soul. What, then, is 
 the value of the whole number you have thus 
 
 Then think of the blessings which the 
 Sabbath always brings, and which you have 
 
120 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 squandered. How many opportunities of 
 hearing the messages of mercy that God sends 
 to sinners, have you neglected ? Away into 
 the far country, whither you have wandered, 
 the Lord has followed you with these invita- 
 tions to return. You live under the drop- 
 pings of the sanctuary, and its open doors 
 invite you to enter on the return of each 
 Sabbath morn. But a slight excuse, a tran- 
 sient cloud, a momentary pain, will often 
 tempt you to stay away, and lose the oppor- 
 tunity of listening to the sound of a Saviour's 
 love. How many privileges like these you 
 have shamefully despised. 
 
 Nor is this all. Often you have sat in the 
 house of God and professed to worship him 
 and listen to the gospel. Here life and salva- 
 tion have been set before you, and urged on 
 your acceptance with more than parental 
 tenderness. The law of God has been re- 
 vealed in all its majesty and power. The 
 love of God in Christ reconciling a world unto 
 himself, has here been offered, with eloquence 
 and tears. Calculate if you can, the number 
 of gospel sermons that you have heard ; 
 
Tin: MLOMGAL nr.ci,\iMi:u. L21 
 
 timate, if you can, their value, each one of 
 
 them i messag it to you from heaven, and 
 
 tied with tli« 4 blood of the Son of God. 
 
 How much is oik worth: What sum 
 would equal the Value Of all: In childhood 
 
 a sat under the preaching of the gospel ; in 
 
 JTOUth it followed you : there never was a 
 time when you could not have the same 
 blessed opportunity. And have you not 
 wasted all the truth that has thus come down 
 to you from the God of heaven ; You have 
 heard, but have been a forgetful hearer. 
 Perhaps you have made sport of it, or tried 
 to doubt and disbelieve it. In the house of 
 I I )d, under the most pungent and powerful 
 derations of divine truth, your mind has 
 en, like the fool's eyes, at the ends of the 
 earth, and. instead of being made the better 
 by t! ;ns of grace, you have been 
 
 hardened in sin, until now you are indifferent 
 to all you bear. Far shore the heathen, 
 
 far abo\ nit own deserts, vou bare been 
 tinguished by the enjoyment of these gifts, 
 
 but, like a pr il, vou have trilled them 
 
 away, slighted them. U if they were of no 
 
 1 1 
 
122 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 value. What a spendthrift of eternal riches 
 you have been ! 
 
 So too of that Bible, which in a former 
 chapter has been spoken of, as one of the 
 richest gifts of God to man. The prodigal 
 took from his father's house no gift so precious 
 as this. Silver and gold he might have had 
 in abundance, but nothing could compare with 
 this pearl of great price. Money could not 
 buy it. God gave it from the fulness of his 
 own boundless love. And in the midst of all 
 your wanderings you have had this treasure, 
 and have abused it basely. Its precious truths 
 you have despised. Its infinite wisdom you 
 have esteemed folly. Its holy laws you have 
 broken. Its tender appeals you have with- 
 stood. This is recklessness of conduct that 
 has no parallel in the history of him who 
 wasted his substance in riotous living. 
 
 And when the Holy Spirit has visited 
 your heart in mercy, to convince you of sin, 
 of righteousness, of judgment to come, to lead 
 you back to him from whom you have wan- 
 dered, how have you treated his kindness, and 
 grieved him away. 
 
TBI PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. L23 
 
 There haw been times when you ha 
 
 n ibe Spirit's power on many hearts around 
 you. Others have been alarmed, and feeling 
 
 their sinfulo have been induced to turn 
 
 unto the Lord. But those revival seasons, 
 
 when sinners pressed into the kingdom, and 
 
 it seemed to be easy to be saved, those bar- 
 It seasons are passed, those summers are 
 ended, and their golden hour- vou now number 
 among tfa which vou have squandered in 
 sin. perhaps to the ruin of your soul. 
 
 The blood ok Christ! And have you 
 wasted that ? It was shed for you. No oiler 
 of mercv would ever have been made to vou 
 in the gospel, no Holy Spirit would have come 
 to you in your sin^, had not God so loved the 
 rid as to give his only begotten Son, that 
 whosoever belie veth on him should not peri 
 
 it have eternal lit-'. John 3: 16. Since 
 Christ hath died for -inner-. God can he just, 
 an e. This is j <>ur only 1. It 
 
 is a plan to s that i- broad enough for you, 
 and for all who will be saved thereby. 
 
124 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 " For all that believe, 
 
 Christ hath opened a fountain ; 
 
 For sin and pollution, 
 And every transgression, 
 
 His blood flows most freely, 
 In streams of salvation." 
 
 And, as if to crown all your ingratitude, 
 this gift, no less than the blood of the Son of 
 God, you have abused ; this blood of the 
 everlasting covenant by which God would 
 save those who believe, you have trampled 
 under foot and counted an unholy thing. 
 
 Were you baptized in infancy, and have 
 all the blessings and privileges, which were 
 then secured to you, been lost by your apos- 
 tasy ? Perhaps you have not broken away 
 from the instructions of pious parents, and 
 resisted the impressions thus made on your 
 infant heart. Perhaps no pious father in- 
 stilled into your mind the principles of truth, 
 warned you of the temptations to which your 
 youth would be exposed, bore you in the 
 arms of parental anxiety to the footstool of 
 sovereign mercy, and sought the richest of 
 heaven's blessings for your ripe years. Per- 
 
Tin; PBODIOAL RECLAIMED. 129 
 
 haps no fond mother wet your cheek with 
 the tears of maternal love as she laid her 
 
 hand on your bead in prayer, and consecrated 
 
 bei infant offspring to the Lord. Hut if to 
 all your prodigality, you have added this, if 
 a are a prodigal from a pious family, if a 
 pious parent now on earth is weeping 01 
 
 vour impenitence, if a parent, now a saint in 
 heaven, is watching the progress of a way- 
 ward child, then you are pre-eminently a 
 prodigal. There is, however, hope in your 
 case, if this last portion is not yet all spent, if 
 this tie is not yet sundered, those influences 
 not wasted and forgotten. 
 
 The impressions formed by early instruc- 
 tion and holy example are the most powerful 
 that human influence can make on the soul. 
 The ties that fasten the heart to the scenes 
 and associations of earlv life, are the strongest 
 that man can throw around his fellow-man. 
 And when the sinner thus restrained, deserts 
 
 path of virtue and wan in the wa 
 
 of sin, tl; impressioi. row fainter and 
 fainter, these lies W( r and weaker; hut so 
 long as they are not altogether effaced or 
 11* 
 
126 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 broken, there still is hope. Even for the 
 vilest of prodigals there is hope, if he has not 
 forgotten his father's counsels, and his 
 mother's prayers. If the memory of a 
 mother who prayed over him in his infancy, 
 calls a tear, unbidden, to his eye unused to 
 weep, there is hope even for him. That 
 thought may be a beacon light in the dark- 
 ness of his heart. He may be a wanderer on 
 the broad ocean, tossed by the tempests of 
 heaven, and driven by fiercer tempests in 
 his own soul ; but that thought of a mother's 
 prayer and a mother's love, that thought, that 
 last expiring ray, may be the polar star to 
 lead him back to virtue and to God. The 
 return would be as voluntary as the depart- 
 ure. He would follow the guidance of an 
 impression which, it may be, the Holy Spirit 
 made on his heart when he sat on his 
 father's knee, or bowed by his mother's side 
 to repeat his evening prayer. 
 
 In the silence and solitude of your soul, do 
 you sometimes feel the power of early reli- 
 gious instruction or of pious example ? O, 
 cherish those feelings as the earnest of eternal 
 
THK PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 127 
 
 lil' They may be the means, under God, 
 of guiding your footsteps out of the snares of 
 sin, into the strait ami narrow path that leads 
 to heaven. I could tell you of one who was 
 thus rescued from the very borders of destruc- 
 tion.* He was the son of pious parents, and 
 in infancy dedicated to God in the holy ordi- 
 nance of baptism. In childhood he was 
 faithfully taught the great truths of the Bible, 
 and his early years gave bright promise that 
 he would grow up in the fear of the Lord. 
 And when he left his father's house to com- 
 plete his education abroad, there was scarcely 
 a fear in the hearts of those who knew him, 
 that he would ever be a prodigal. But new 
 scenes opened on him. New and gay com- 
 panions welcomed the ardent boy to their 
 circle, and spread before him the bright en- 
 tic its of pleasure and sin. He struggled 
 for a while against the tempter, but one bar- 
 rier of virtue after another yielded, till at 
 length be fell. The conquest was not easv, 
 
 •S ■ Elisabeth Thornton, with other Sketches." 
 rk. M. YV. Dodd. 1841. 
 
128 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 but it was at last achieved ; and he plunged 
 headlong into the vortex that has swallowed 
 thousands, and from which few have ever been 
 recovered. 
 
 There were those who saw his danger, and 
 who desired to deliver him as from death. 
 They spoke to him of the evil nature of sin, 
 but he felt it not ; of heaven, but it had no 
 attractions for his corrupt heart; of Jesus and 
 his dying love, but their power was gone. 
 He was standing one day in the room of a 
 pious young man who said to him, " How 
 would your parents feel should they hear that 
 you had become a Christian ?" The arrow 
 found its way to his heart. He fell on his 
 knees and asked the young man to pray for 
 him. He thought of home, and the memory 
 of all his early lessons of Christ and of heaven 
 came over him, humbling him in the dust. 
 He resolved to turn to Cod. He became a 
 Christian, and often have those parents' 
 hearts been filled with joy to hear the gospel 
 by the lips of that son whom once they feared 
 was a lost prodigal. 
 
TBI PBOTOGAL RECLAIMED. 1 29 
 
 The story is familiar of the sailor who Wttfl 
 invited to attend church, by I man who passed 
 
 him as he was standing in the door of his 
 boarding-housi The sailor at first refused 
 with OOnsiderable bluntness, but the man 
 entered into conversation with him, and 
 presently asked him if he had a mother. He 
 .-aid he had. "And what advice would she 
 gi?e you about going to church, if she were 
 here to-night ? w inquired the stranger. The 
 sailor went, and was converted. 
 
 It may he that he who would trample on 
 a Saviour's blood, and resist the grace of God, 
 and break his laws, and despise his proffered 
 love, may pause before he crushes beneath his 
 feet his mother's heart. 
 
 Thus have we noticed a few of the gifts of 
 God which you have squandered in your 
 course of -in. With the early instruction of 
 piou< parents, with baptismal vows upon you, 
 with Sabbaths, and Bibles, and a preached 
 gospel, with the influences of the Holy Spirit, 
 
 and the blood of the Lamb of God shed freely 
 for your salvation, with all these rich gifts, 
 who is so rich as you i The prodigal was 
 
130 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 not so rich. What amazing extravagance 
 it must be, that so soon has wasted so much. 
 Heaven is in sight, and it is promised to you 
 on easy terms, but turning your back on that 
 glorious inheritance, you madly break away 
 from the courts of God, you spurn the rich 
 gifts of your heavenly Father, and wander 
 away into a region of death. „ 
 
 " Stop, poor sinner, stop and think, 
 
 Before you farther go ; 
 Will you sport upon the brink 
 
 Of everlasting wo 1 
 On the verge of ruin stop — 
 
 Now the friendly warning take : 
 Stay your footsteps — ere you drop 
 
 Into the burning lake." 
 
TIIK PRODIGAL RECLAIMID. 131 
 
 II A PT EB viii. 
 
 nine — A starving man — V starving soul — Sin brings men 
 to want — The Prodiual be« — He feedl twine, 
 
 — The hum a slave to the world, the flesh arid the 
 
 devil — The Prodigal i> reduced to despair. 
 
 "WmtH he bad spent all, there arose a 
 mighty famine in that land ; and he began to 
 be in want." Riotous living usually brings 
 men to want. Extravagance, intemperance, 
 debauchery, gambling and kindred vices, will 
 make wreck of the most splendid fortune, and 
 reduce their victims to sore distr — . It was 
 so with the Prodigal. He went awav from 
 home rich. I h' ate, he drank.hu indulged 
 
 3 licentious appetites without restraint, and 
 never thought of the consequences, till com- 
 pelled to feel, by the pressure of actual star- 
 vation. There arose a famine in that land. 
 When he came to po\ :hers around him 
 
 were poor. They could not help him in bis 
 
132 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 misery, and he was like to perish with the 
 rest. 
 
 In the last chapter we saw the shameful 
 use which the sinner makes of the rich gifts 
 of providence, and the richer gifts of grace, 
 and we are ready now to believe that he who 
 thus abuses God's great goodness must expect 
 to suffer. Kindness rejected will alienate 
 the heart of the dearest friend. The abuse 
 of mercies may justly provoke their giver to 
 withdraw them. Or if those mercies are not 
 withdrawn, they may have lost their power 
 to bless, and remain only as curses to those 
 who have slighted them. So the preaching 
 of the cross is a savor of death to those who 
 will not yield to its power. So the poor sin- 
 ner who has grieved the Spirit of God, sinks 
 under deeper condemnation than if it had 
 never come to his heart. 
 
 But the starving Prodigal was not so much 
 to be pitied as you are. if you have wasted 
 all the good things of God's grace, and are 
 now perishing with hunger. It is a terrible 
 thing to lose the favor of God, to feel that he 
 is your enemy and has no thought of mercy 
 
TUT. PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 139 
 
 toward you ; that 1 by your base de- 
 
 parture, and wouncL by your shameful 
 course of sin. he lias given you over to hard- 
 
 m of heart and blindness i>i mind. The 
 time was when you felt the inlluenee of the 
 Holy Spirit on your soul, exciting in your 
 heart some anxious thouiiln< about vour et<T- 
 nal inter 5t8. Where have those anxious 
 thoughts now fled : Whv are you indifferent 
 to the things that concern your everlasting 
 peac< Perhaps you are ready to perish for 
 
 nt of the Spirit whom you have grieved 
 
 The Prodigal took with him monev that, 
 while it lasted, gave him the means of getting 
 back to his father. When that was gone, he 
 began to be in want, having nothing with 
 which to support himself from home, and 
 nothing to help him on his retain. When 
 you dt ted your Father, and brcame an 
 apostate from God. you carried with you, in 
 the remonstrances of con>ci« nee, the invita- 
 tions of t "•!. the strivingi of the Spirit, 
 the strong evidences that you might return. 
 These would have led you back and restored 
 IS 
 
134 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 you to your Father's house, had you not 
 criminally lost them all. You are in want. 
 You must starve, if help cannot be found. 
 
 So the poor Prodigal felt as he awoke to 
 the knowledge of his lost condition. He was 
 in want of food, and there was a famine in 
 the land. But what if he had starved! 
 What is a starving beggar to a starving soul ! 
 A soul that ever lives, and ever starves ! 
 The want you suffer now, the loss of God's 
 favor which is life, is but " the be£innin£ of 
 sorrows." The want that now threatens 
 your destruction is the first gnawing of that 
 worm that never dies, feeding on a soul that 
 lives for ever to be its eternal food. 
 
 Look at a starving man, and think what 
 would be his suffering if he were condemned 
 to live for ever, and to be for ever dying with 
 hunger. For days he lingers, and fails, and 
 prays for food, for one morsel of meat to satis- 
 fy the ceaseless gnawings that he feels within ; 
 for weeks he drags on a miserable existence, 
 sinking yet lower, and feeling still keener and 
 more torturing agonies. Months wear away, 
 but no relief, no crumb to break his fasting, 
 
ii; PBODIG vl BX< laimkd. L3S 
 
 no drop of water to moisten his parched 
 toi . but vain!} strives, to die. 
 
 It would be kindness to kill biro. A l< 
 
 ir has passed at last, and the starved 
 
 wretch still clasps bis bony fingers and pra; 
 
 for food or death. ^ ear follows year, and 
 
 there he lives and starves. ( lentury follows 
 
 centurv. A^e succeeds age. A thousand 
 
 . a hundred thousand years, a million of 
 
 lis roll on. and O, what misery in all that 
 time has that poor wretch endured. 
 
 But he never suffered one pain like a pang 
 of hell, — his was a starving body, not a dying 
 
 soul! lie never felt one agony like the tor- 
 
 i 
 
 ment of the damned ! His million of years 
 was but as yesterday when it is past, com- 
 pared to ETERNITY. 
 
 And this is the illustration chosen by our 
 Lord to show the state of the soul that has 
 apostatized from God. So it is with every soul 
 
 t has sinned away the enjoyment of God's 
 favor and incurred his righteous CUTS A 
 
 .line begins in hi it. No dew of divine 
 
 grace, no rain of mercy descends on the dry, 
 
136 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 withered, hardened soul of that abandoned 
 sinner. 
 
 Perhaps this, also, is the sad state of the 
 reader of this page. Is there no dearth of 
 spiritual joy in your soul ? Is God your 
 God, and the Saviour your friend ? Does the 
 Holy Spirit dwell in your heart, promoting 
 the work of holiness, and fitting you for 
 heaven ? Or does he leave you to the dis- 
 mal consciousness that your vile ingratitude 
 and profligacy have driven all divine com- 
 passion from you, shut up heaven against 
 your prayer, and doomed you to perish mis- 
 erably and eternally ? 
 
 We must follow the Prodigal a step farther 
 in his downward career. He must starve or 
 work, and he preferred the latter. He went 
 and joined himself to a citizen of that coun- 
 try ; that is, he bound himself out, ceased to 
 be his own master, and surrendered himself 
 to the dominion of another. To all intents 
 and purposes the prodigal became a slave. 
 It was a terrible alternative. It was a dread- 
 ful change from the ease and luxury of his 
 father's house ; but there the mild restraint of 
 
THK PBODICAL KKCLAIMED. 187 
 
 a father 3 and ?oice, though every look 
 
 and word wen* love, was more than his proud 
 irit would hear. For the Bake of freedom. 
 he had entered on the ways of sin, and now 
 finds himself a <la\ 
 
 e BDmsB ia a slai He is a slave to 
 
 a own lusts, a slave to the world, a slave to 
 
 thedeviL I sist such humiliating truths* 
 
 ^ ou think you are slandered when I call you 
 
 And what is there, that marks the 
 
 difference between you and one who has been 
 
 i up body and soul to the bidding of 
 anotl If you would hear the Bible on 
 
 this point, it would reveal with terrible dis- 
 tinctness, the mournful state to which sin has 
 d you. Read a sinner's confession in 
 the sixth and seventh chapters of the Epistle 
 to ll; Romans. And the bondage of sin, 
 
 dominion and power of sin. deliverance 
 from sin, the li • of the gospel, are all of 
 them expi ommon in the recital of 
 
 • sim -nee, that they must be 
 
 faithful records of the sufferings he endui 
 while yet u in the gall of bitten, md the 
 bond of iniquity. 11 
 
 1-2* 
 
138 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 " The carnal heart is enmity against God ; 
 it is not subject to the law of God, neither 
 indeed can be." Rom. 8 : 7. But while the 
 sinner's conscience and his judgment assure 
 him that the service of God is his reasonable 
 service, and that he ought, without a mo- 
 ment's delay, to yield himself a willing ser- 
 vant into the hands of him who has a right 
 to his body, soul and spirit, the corrupt incli- 
 nations of his wicked heart drive him away 
 from God, to the ignominious servitude of 
 sin. So long as man is unrenewed by divine 
 grace, he is led away by his own lusts, unless 
 the fear of punishment throws a barrier be- 
 tween him and his unhallowed desires. But 
 the passion thus restrained, struggles for indul- 
 gence, and too often gains the mastery. And 
 when heaven is set before the mind, and its 
 rich enjoyment offered, to induce the sinner 
 to forsake his evil ways and live ; when the 
 horrors of an endless hell are revealed, to 
 alarm the sinner and deter him from his wick- 
 edness ; when the Saviour's love is set forth 
 in the gospel, to induce him to seek for par- 
 don ; when the Holy Spirit strives " . uer- 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 139 
 
 suade and enable him' to embrace the over- 
 tures of meiCJ made in the word of God, then 
 comes th< Pll r u r l<% and the sinful heart 
 carrir^ the da\ . It has been so with thou- 
 sands of sinners, and will be so with more. 
 
 Then there is the slavery to the world. 
 Its maxims and precept-, its fashions and for- 
 tunes, hold the soul of man in oppressive 
 bond If reliirion is unfashionable, the 
 
 sinner will perish rather than be looked on as 
 out of the fashion. If his young friends will 
 point the finger of derision at him when he 
 begins to seek religion, the slave to fashion 
 will put in peril his soul, and probably destroy 
 his soul, sooner than be laughed at. And 
 what is the scorn of men, to " the everlasting 
 shame and contempt* [Dan. 12: *2J of those 
 who will be anion" the " scomers ' at the 
 it day ; And there are slaves to this 
 world who worship gold as their God. .\ot 
 the Utter only, who b -starved in this world, 
 damned in that to com but the man of 
 
 business who lives for gain and nothing else, 
 whose Bible is his leg whose closet is his 
 counting-room, whose God is mammon. He 
 
140 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 is a slave. There is no man on earth who 
 works harder and sleeps less than that poor 
 rich man. He rises in the morning, and busi- 
 ness haunts him with the first breath of air he 
 takes; it follows and goads him through the 
 day ; he has scarcely time to eat, none to 
 pray. The charm of the domestic circle 
 wins him not. He is a slave. Sometimes 
 he sighs for liberty, and fixing his eye on 
 some distant point, he says to himself, when 
 I am worth so much, I will be my own mas- 
 ter. But that time comes, and the bond of 
 covetousness is stronger than ever. He toils 
 on till he dies. 
 
 And the man of pleasure, gay as he is, and 
 boasting of his independence, is bound to his 
 sins, and bound to his companions in sin, with 
 cords that are not to be easily sundered. When 
 
 w 
 
 he would abandon the pleasures of sin, and 
 seek after things of more enduring good, they 
 rally around him, and hold him fast, and drag 
 him down to death and hell. 
 
 The devil leads sinners captive at his will ; 
 binds them to his service here ; exacts a ser- 
 vile compliance with his wicked precepts ; 
 
thi: PRODIGAL kk» L LIKED. Ill 
 
 and when they have finished the work lie has 
 
 tor them to do, he takes them to himself] and 
 they ar<* his slaves for eyer. The wages of 
 
 sin i< deatli. Rom. () : '2>). 
 
 Do you see that young man in the field, 
 
 sine! A short time since you saw 
 
 him clad in gay apparel, setting out on a tour 
 
 of pleasure; what now is he doing there? 
 
 bold in this the ignominy of sin. The 
 Prodigal joined himself to a citizen of the 
 country who sent him into the field to feed 
 swine. These were unclean animals which 
 it was not lawful amon^ the Jews to feed, and 
 those, therefore, to whom our Lord addressed 
 this parable, would look upon one employed 
 in such a service, as amonir the most degraded 
 of men. 
 
 And worse ; he eats with the swine! As 
 if a lower depth of shame had opened, he 
 sinks to a level with the lowest bruit . To 
 swine was mean enough. To h«*rd with 
 them was worse. I Jut to eat with them, v 
 a degradation from which the vilest of men 
 will shrink. 
 
142 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 Sin is the source of shame. Holiness ex- 
 alts men to the likeness of God, fits them for 
 the company of angels and the honors of 
 heaven. Sin filled our first parents with 
 shame, and made them hide from the sight 
 of God. You could not hold up your head 
 in the presence of holiness. You would 
 cower with shame, if called to stand before 
 the face of him in whose sight the heavens 
 are unclean. And as you look with profound 
 contempt on the poor wretch whose crimes 
 have made him the companion of swine, who 
 eats with them, and is thus an acknowledged 
 outcast from the society of all human beings, 
 so must all sinless beings look on the sinner 
 with infinite abhorrence, wondering, too, that 
 immortal man, with such a destiny before him, 
 will so debase his soul. If you despised 
 yourself as holy beings must despise you, 
 what loathing would fill your heart as your 
 character is revealed, by the Spirit and the 
 word of God, to your own mind. When Job 
 obtained but a faint conception of his own 
 vileness, in contrast with the character of the 
 Holy One, he cried, " I have heard of thee 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 148 
 
 the bearing of tl r; but now mine eye 
 
 seeth the Wherefore, I abhor myself and 
 
 pent in dust and ashes." J >b 42: 5,6. 
 b. <> : I — 5. 
 
 And what were husks to a starving man? 
 Ju<t what the vain pursuits of time and <cnse 
 are to the de of the immortal sou] ! 'The 
 
 prodigal snatched the dry food from the swii 
 and sought to assuage the gnawings of star- 
 vation. But in vain. So you may feed on 
 the honors, pleasures, riches, which this world 
 o] hut the soul within will never be 
 
 o 
 
 I with any thing below the throne of 
 God. 
 
 Lay up treasures on earth, heap up gold, 
 till the world calls you rich and happv : and 
 you will still call yourself poor, and know 
 yourself to be miserable. 
 
 Seek for honor, and power, and fame ; and 
 what are they hut hi -k- that will not sat- 
 isfj Who ever had enough of these ? The 
 mightiest of earth's conquerors wept when 
 there were no more nations for him to subdi 
 \nd what, now. is the value of Alexander's 
 fame i What the glory of heroes and princes, 
 
144 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 whose very names have now passed from the 
 memory of man ! 
 
 Or would you seek for worldly pleasure, 
 the merest phantom that ever cheated the 
 soul? Bubbles that burst when caught; 
 flowers guarded by a thousand thorns ; wa- 
 ters sweet when tasted, but bitter and deadly 
 when drank. As well might you feed a 
 dying man on ashes or the wind, as to satisfy 
 the soul of man with pleasure's empty song. 
 And if I could address the crowds of deluded 
 men who will rush on in quest of riches, 
 honors and pleasures, losing heaven and hope 
 in the vain pursuit, I would say : 
 
 Go, ye prodigals from your Father's home ; 
 go, feed on husks till ye pine away and die. 
 Ye worshippers of mammon, go, bow to the 
 idols of silver and gold which you have set 
 up, which can neither see nor save. Wor- 
 ship them and perish ; but if you wish for 
 riches that will survive the "wreck of worlds," 
 O lay them up in heaven. 
 
 Ye aspirants for fame, for honors and 
 power, go, mount the car of ambition and 
 ride madly on to glory. But ye, too, shall 
 
Tiu: MMMMGAL KBOLAIMBD. 145 
 
 find that none of these things that the nations 
 seek after can fill the capacities of ti. ablest 
 
 soul. Go, win your crowns and wear them ; 
 but von shall leave him that humhleth him- 
 self, the crown that fadeth not away. 
 
 ^ e votaries of pleasure ye butterflies of a 
 brief summer's hour, ye insects that sport 
 your gay wings in the sunshine of folly and 
 of sin ; go, sip the honey from every dower 
 that blooms in the fields you roam : but you 
 shall leave the nectar of heaven to those who 
 
 k for ki joys substantial and sincere." Go, 
 dance on the verge of hell, and riot in licen- 
 tious indulgence. If you will feed on husks, 
 make the most of them ; but depend upon it, 
 you must find something better, or perish with 
 hui 
 
 lint, starved as this miserable prodigal was, 
 with nothing but the husks for his daily food, 
 the misery and helplessness of his condition are 
 still more apparent, when we are told that 
 no man gave unto him." Doubtless all his 
 old companions in m had deserted him, and 
 now they treated him with cold neglect, or 
 scorn. It is the way of the world. The 
 1.1 
 
146 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 gambler casts off his friend as soon as he has 
 cheated him of his money. The man who 
 sells his neighbor intoxicating liquors, drives 
 him from his house, as soon as he has no 
 more means of paying for the poison. Sin is 
 selfish. It has no tender mercies even for 
 sinners, and sad is that man's state who trusts 
 to the wicked for relief, when want presses 
 heavily on him and his house. 
 
 Sinners can give each other no relief when 
 the consciousness of guilt is awakened in the 
 heart. Like this prodigal who went and 
 joined himself to a citizen of that country, 
 sinners, when pressed with sin, are inclined to 
 fly to others for relief. And what relief do 
 they obtain ? They are led to the pleasures 
 of the world as a cure for the distress they 
 feel ; and many a pretended friend has 
 directed an awakened sinner to a course of 
 idle amusements, to read some light but capti- 
 vating book, to visit in gay company, or to turn 
 the thoughts to any thing but the concerns 
 of the soul, and thus has sought to relieve 
 the melancholy which settles on the heart 
 that is convinced of the nature of sin. Give 
 
THH PRODIGAL KLC 1,A IMLD. 147 
 
 husks to a starving man, as well as worldly 
 pleasures to a perishing sinner. Sinn< 
 uld not lu'l[) each other if they could, they 
 
 could not if they would. .No man gave 
 
 unto him." 
 
 Ami now to what a state of misery is this 
 yoi. man reduced. An outcast from his 
 father's boose, abandoned by all the friends 
 that surrounded him in his* prosperity, desti- 
 tute of all means of relief, an enemy of God, 
 and loathed of men, he lies down to die. 
 Despair took possession of his guilty soul. 
 
 Despair is the sure result of sin. It is no 
 
 rash assertion, it is the truth, that reason and 
 
 the word of God unite in teaching, that sin 
 
 will, sooner or later, shut out hope from the 
 
 soul of man. This " dreadful state of deep 
 
 iir," may come when the sinner, crushed 
 
 under strong convictions of his guilt and just 
 
 of punishment, feels that he is left of 
 
 (1 to perish eternally. It may come, when, 
 
 stretched on a dying bed, he looks away to 
 
 the judgment-seat of Christ, before which he 
 
 ist shortly stand, am) knows that he is not 
 prepared for that awful scene, and has no 
 
148 
 
 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 time left in which to make ready. It may 
 not come until the lost sinner closes his eyes 
 on the light of heaven, and the glare of hell 
 bursts on his affrighted spirit, and he awakes 
 to the discovery that from him hope has for 
 ever fled. But it will come. If the sin- 
 ner persists in sin, and resists the voice of 
 conscience and the strivings of the Holy 
 Spirit until death stands at his bedside, 
 despair may be there to rack him with an- 
 guish before the flames are on him. If 
 death come suddenly, the unready sinner 
 starts and turns pale. " This night shall thy 
 soul be required of thee/ 7 is a message of ter- 
 ror to the careless, and when the summons 
 comes, it is no strange thing that, with the 
 prospect of judgment near, and with no hope 
 of salvation, the lost prodigal should cry out 
 in anguish that fills the heart of every hearer 
 with pity and grief. 
 
 Scenes like this are often witnessed in this 
 sinful and dying world. A few doors from 
 me, and but a few days ago, a young lady 
 was cut down with sudden sickness. Rapid 
 were the ravages of the destroyer, and vain 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 149 
 
 the remedies that love ami skill would offer, 
 to stay the spirit in the hour of its departure. 
 When told that her sickness would probably 
 prove fatal, and that it was feared she was 
 vety near the end of li le cried out, " I 
 
 cannot die ! 1 will not die I I must live ! 
 I am not ready to die T 5 No, she was not; 
 and when the voice of kindness would soothe 
 her sorrow, and speak of hope in Jesus, even 
 in the hour of dissolving nature, still she 
 cried, " I might have found the Saviour when 
 I was in health, but now it is too late, too 
 lot 1 must die, and where shall I go l ,s 
 
 .Many such death scenes has it been my 
 sad lot to visit, and always, when retiring, 
 have I felt how true it is, that sin will breed 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 Or, if the hardened sinner, given over of 
 God to blindness of mind, lives and dies 
 regardless of the nature or the consequences 
 of transgression, despair will overtake him, 
 and overwhelm him. When the rich man 
 lifted up his eyes, being in torments, and 
 prayed for one drop of water to cool his 
 13* 
 
150 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED, 
 
 parched tongue, and heard a stern denial 
 even of this small request, there was nothing 
 left for him to hope. Hell is the empire of 
 despair. Not a ray of hope ever stole in 
 upon its darkness. Could the eye fix upon 
 some point far down the course of never-end- 
 ing eternity, where the agony of hell would 
 find some respite, it would be a sweet relief 
 to the infinite bitterness of that place of tor- 
 ment. Though that point were millions of 
 ages hence, beyond the stretch of mind to 
 calculate, still were there in that vast distance 
 of futurity, a spot where the soul shall find a 
 resting-place from its sorrows, where the 
 fires burn less fiercely, if they do not expire, 
 where the stings of conscience grow dull, 
 and the gnawings of the undying worm are, 
 for a season, to be satisfied, that point would 
 rise like a star of hope over the dismal gloom 
 that broods for ever on the ocean of despair. 
 But no such point as this the wildest 
 thought of a lost spirit ever fancied. They 
 who are in hell know, of a truth, that they 
 are there for life, and their misery is, that life 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 151 
 
 to have no end. They know that a pris- 
 oner oevei iped from that dungeon. Tin 1 
 pardoning mercy of God never reached a 
 soul there. A ray of light never travelled 
 into that bottomless pit. 
 
 Uut (kirknrss, death, and 1<>' -pair, 
 
 Reign in eternal silence there . '" 
 
152 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Madness — Returning to reason — Thoughts of home — Rea- 
 sons for returning to his father's house. 
 
 " He came to himself." Was he a mad- 
 man before ? We speak of one whose reason 
 has returned after a lone season of derange- 
 ment, as of one who has become himself 
 again. Is a careless sinner mad? 
 
 Scoffers at religion, who would mock all 
 serious thoughts of God and the soul's salva- 
 tion, always speak of anxious sinners as if they 
 were losing their senses. You may hear the 
 enemies of Christ making sport of those who 
 begin to be concerned about the future, and, 
 if you were to believe them, you would think 
 it altogether unbecoming a sensible person to 
 be anxious on the subject of religion. But 
 learn from the prodigal who is mad ; the sin- 
 ner who begins to be in earnest about the 
 interests of his immortal soul, or the sinner 
 who is thoughtless when a moment hence he 
 may be in the flames of hell ? 
 
THI. 1 KODICAL RKCLAIMED. L58 
 
 That man must be mad who stands on the 
 of a pit. and i< unconcerned when the 
 
 ound is crumbling beneath his feet. Bat 
 that man is not mad who flies for his life 
 when the ground trembh Were you in a 
 
 burning house with a friend, and both of you 
 were aware of the danger of being speedily 
 enveloped in llames, which of you would act 
 the part of a madman, the one who ru-hes to 
 the door to escape, or the one who lies down 
 to sleep ? 
 
 A young man. in the open field, among a 
 herd of swine, is starving. He has no friends 
 near him to whom he can go for aid. In the 
 depth of his misery, when death stands before 
 him, and hope has failed him. and de-pair has 
 
 zed him, he thinks of a house where there 
 is enough to eat, and a friend who would 
 gladly give him relief. Would you have him 
 go, or starv Was it madness to think of 
 
 -. when he knew that life could be had 
 if he would but return ? 
 
 .\o ; he is the man bereft of r non, or tin- 
 man who abuses the reason God has given 
 him, who lives in the world as if he were to 
 
154 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 live here for ever ; who knows that, he is on 
 the verge of the bottomless pit, and walks 
 unconcerned ; whose soul is starving, while 
 the rich bounties of heaven are despised as 
 altogether unworthy of his regard. 
 
 Well did the wisest of men once say of 
 sinners, " Madness is in their heart while they 
 live, and after that they go to the dead." 
 Ecc. 9:3. Is it not the height of madness 
 to make yourself miserable when you might 
 be happy, to be a beggar when you might be 
 a prince, to die when you might live, to go to 
 hell when you might go to heaven ? Is it not 
 madness, that has no equal in the mad-houses 
 of earth, for an immortal being to trifle with 
 eternal realities, reject a proffered crown of 
 glory, despise the love of God in the gift of 
 his Son, trample under foot atoning blood, 
 and when the offers of salvation are urged 
 upon him with all the eloquence of heaven, 
 to plunge headlong, and of his own free-will, 
 into the midst of " everlasting burnings." 
 And that is the madness, O sinner, that now 
 possesses thee, that arms thee with weapons 
 for thy own ruin, that drives thee on toward 
 
 
THE PROnHiYL RECLAIMED. 155 
 
 destruction when the door of heaven stands 
 
 wide open and invites thee to enter and be 
 
 red. Thus madly the prodigal fled from 
 
 I o 
 
 his father's botlS Tbll9 madly he wandered 
 farther and farther from home wasting the 
 goods paternal kindm him, plunging 
 
 deeper and deeper into sin, and of conse- 
 quence into misery, until at last, in the hour 
 of despair, a thought broke upon his bewil- 
 dered mind like a voice from heaven. It was 
 a thought of bom 
 
 A home, once his, but his no longer. He 
 remembers the parents whose arms once shel 
 tered him, and whose tenderness soothed him 
 in his infant days. He thought of his brother, 
 the companion of his boyhood. He thought 
 of the parental roof, and the couch on which 
 
 had slept in peace and security. He re- 
 father's table, and as hunger 
 pressed him sorely and the husks mocked his 
 misery, he began to think of the folly of per- 
 ishing when there was bread enough in his 
 father's house. 
 
 Dear reader, do you ever think of home? 
 I mean the home of your childhood and the 
 
156 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 scene of your youthful sports and joys. Do 
 you not often think of the parents whose love 
 still winds itself around your heart, and fastens 
 you to the spot where yet they live, or to the 
 more sacred spot where their remains are laid. 
 You may not have been called away from 
 those scenes of endearment, and the cares of 
 a busy world, or the snares of a wicked world, 
 may not have made you an exile from your 
 father's house. But suppose you were in a 
 far country, in a land of strangers, and poverty 
 and sickness had overtaken you. No kind 
 mother is near to minister to your wants ; no 
 sister smooths your pillow or drops a tear of 
 pity for your wo. In those long nights of 
 cheerless suffering, would not the memory of 
 home revive with subduing power ? 
 
 Never shall I forget the thoughts of home 
 that made me water my pillow with tears, 
 when thus among strangers, I once laid down, 
 as I thought, to die. And when I lingered 
 long, and those most dear to me flew, as on 
 wings of love, to my side, O, how easy it 
 seemed to die, with parents to catch the last 
 looks of love, and sisters and brothers to share 
 the sorrows of my last hours. 
 
CHE PR6DIGAL RE< L UMEI>. I '■ 
 
 Tl are times when the thoughts of 
 
 Ao//ic will th I on the heart, and brim: 
 
 tears to the eyes of those not used to weep. 
 The student in Lis room at college cherish 
 
 the memory of those whom he has left at 
 home. Tile youth who has gone from the 
 t influences of the domestic circle, and 
 the thousand associations of home in a calm 
 country town, to enter upon business in the 
 midst of a noisy and tumultuous city, often 
 thinks of the quiet scenes of his father's botu 
 and s'iL r hs to be there again. The <ailor, 
 
 Bed on the ocean wave, thinks of lunar and 
 the mother whose love would have kept him 
 there. Every where in the wide world, the 
 heart turns back with longings to the home of 
 childhood, and ties, tender but strong, bind it 
 
 l to the spot that is hallowed in memory 
 centre and soui >f the fondest joj 
 
 I lovr to think that our blessed Saviour, 
 
 when he drew the picture of the sinner's 
 
 wandering, made the first thought of Ins return 
 
 from the memory of his father's 
 
 ho It p; to i . i least, the value 
 
 placed upon those associations tint lt a t ' 
 1 1 
 
158 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 around the human heart, and which he who 
 formed that heart employs in his wise but 
 often wondrous plans to reclaim poor sinners 
 from the error of their ways. 
 
 Perhaps you, who are now reading this 
 book, may have been led by these facts to 
 think of pious parents whose hearts would 
 beat with joy, and whose cheeks would be 
 wet with grateful tears, should they hear that 
 an absent child, or one whose feet still linger 
 near the domestic altar, had been led to 
 repentance ; and as this thought, so melting 
 to a young heart, has stolen upon you, has 
 not a half-formed desire been awakened to 
 return to your heavenly Father from whom 
 you have wandered, and who would rejoice to 
 receive you to his arms ? As we have seen 
 the evil nature and the fatal fruits of sin, have 
 you not felt the need of finding pardon and 
 the favor of an offended God, before sin shall 
 have proved your ruin in this and the world 
 to come? And as the happiness of heaven 
 has been revealed to your view in the invita- 
 tions of the gospel, has no desire to obtain a 
 title to its eternal enjoyment been kindled in 
 
TH1 PBODKi AL RECLAIMED. 159 
 
 your soul ? I think you feel with me that a 
 father's love i> worth seeking if it has on 
 
 en lost, and a father's house is the b* 
 refuse for a starving son. And if the tie 
 that hinds you to the parents that gave you 
 birth, and cradled you in infancy, and fol- 
 lowed you with kindi all along the paths 
 of early years, if the debt of gratitude you 
 owe to that Father who gave his Son to die 
 for you, will not awaken any desire in your 
 breast to turn from sin, and seek for holiness 
 and heaven, then your case is desperate in- 
 deed. But if you will for a moment think of 
 a few reasons to induce an immediate return 
 to that God whom you have forsaken, and 
 whose displeasure you have incurred, it seems 
 to me that you will be disposed to regard the 
 
 olution of the prodigal as just the resolution 
 on the formation and execution of which your 
 salvation may depend. 
 
 1st Keason. Remaining iclicrc you now 
 arc, you mu h. The Prodigal felt the 
 
 truth of this. Hunger is inexpressibly pain- 
 ful ; and when starvation stared him in the 
 face, he knew that he must die or Gnd relief. 
 
160 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 And you are starving, perishing ! Sin, when 
 it is finished, bringeth forth death. You are 
 a sinner, and the disease is making steady and 
 fatal progress. To make your destruction 
 sure, it is not important that you should be- 
 come more profligate, — more like the prodi- 
 gal, — in your habits. You may never be 
 a gambler, a thief, or a murderer ; you may 
 be moral as the world goes, and like the young 
 man in the gospel (Matt. 19 : 20), you may 
 keep the letter of all the commandments. 
 But you are a sinner; you have never loved 
 God with all your heart, and thus living and 
 thus dying, where Christ is you can never 
 come. It is therefore certain, that you are 
 now in a perishing state, The very indiffer- 
 ence you feel on the subject renders the case 
 more clear. If you were in earnest about 
 your salvation, there would be more hope. 
 But sitting quietly there, in danger of death 
 and hell, perhaps not a day between you and 
 eternity, and still careless about the awful 
 interests that are at stake, you are making 
 your own ruin certain. 
 
THE PBOMGAL RECLAIMED. 161 
 
 It may be that you haw promised your- 
 l to attend to your soul's concern at a future 
 
 w 
 
 day, and " time enough yel may be the 
 
 song which now lulls you to slumber on the 
 verge of wo. Millions now in hell once 
 thought as you now think, that by-and-by, in 
 manhood or old age, in sickness or at a more 
 convenient season, they would prepare to 
 die. But death suddenly snapped life's brittle 
 thread, and they sunk into the pit. Or, God 
 in mercy spared them longer, and youth was 
 spent in folly, manhood in the cares of life ; 
 gray hairs, — the blossoms of eternity, — gave 
 warning that death was near; but "time 
 enough vet," was the son" that lulled them 
 still, and trusting that they would find pardon 
 before they were summoned to judgment, 
 they lived in sin, they died in sin, and now 
 they wail in wretchedness eternal, their mis- 
 ,ble deferring till to-morrow what should 
 done to-day. Just there you are sittin 
 and just there you may perish. That spot 
 takes hold 00 hell. 
 
 n. Should you periih in sc< lei 
 
 the salvation of your souL it would be no worse 
 11* 
 
162 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 for you. In fact, it would be a thousand fold 
 better. The bitterest ingredient in the cup 
 of human suffering must be the thought that 
 you might have escaped it all. Seek for sal- 
 vation now, and that thought will never pierce 
 your heart with pain. iVnd should you now 
 earnestly endeavor to secure the favor of God 
 and reconciliation with him on the terms of 
 the gospel, and thus sincerely seeking you 
 should perish, it would be a soothing reflec- 
 tion in the midst of future torments, that you 
 had perished, not because you had slighted 
 offers of salvation, but because your Father 
 had rejected you when you lay repenting at 
 his feet. 
 
 3d Reason. But no one ever did perish, 
 who came to God for pardon. 
 
 11 In the world of endless ruin, 
 It shall never, Lord, be said, 
 Here 's a soul that perished, suing 
 For the boasted Saviour's aid." 
 
 Search the earth over, summon all the lost 
 in hell to bear witness, and the gathered 
 testimony of the universe will indicate the 
 
Tin. PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. L63 
 
 truth of thi^ broad assertion. " Whoso cometh 
 unto me, I will in no wise cast out,' ; is a 
 promise which has never yet been broken. 
 It stands on the page of his Testament still, 
 and he is faithful to his worth scaled as it has 
 been with his dying blood. And if no one 
 
 er perished in the way to heaven, if the 
 pledge of Christ prevents such a disaster 
 hereafter, why should you hesitate to set out? 
 
 4th Reason. In your Father's house there 
 is br> mough, while yon are perishing for 
 want. When this thought arose in the mind 
 of the prodigal among the swine, he desired 
 to return. He said to himself. — perhaps he 
 groaned the words aloud, — ,; How many hired 
 servants of my father have bread enough and 
 to spare, and 1 perish with hunger.' 3 
 
 Ami a- ht reasoned in his misery, so you 
 may reason. Read the sweet assurances in 
 the fourteenth chapter of the gospel of .John ; 
 they are the words of Christ himself. M In my 
 Father's house there are many mansion-." 
 
 Krcall th ■ of the marriage supper, 
 
 and behold the rich provi- made for sin- 
 
 rs, and the free invitations to partake. 
 
164 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 Think of heaven itself! That is your Father's 
 house. There is a table to which you are 
 invited. The invitation cost nothing less than 
 the sufferings and death of the Son of God. 
 If the invitation to the feast has cost so much, 
 how rich must be the feast itself. 
 
 But if these reasons are duly weighed, can 
 it be that a rational man will hesitate as to 
 the steps to be taken ? Staying where you 
 now are, you must perish ; coming to Christ, 
 you can but perish ; coming to Christ, no one 
 ever did perish ; while you sit still and starve, 
 there is bread enough and to spare in your 
 Father's house. Will you return ? 
 
THE PBODIG KL RE< L UMED. 1<>~> 
 
 CHA PTEB X 
 
 The resolution — I will ari^e and go. 
 
 The starving prodigal remembers the 
 plenty that fills his lather's house, and is 
 almost resolved to arise and £0. Still were 
 there difficulties, and he may have said to 
 himself, "The way is lono and rouiih, and I 
 am weak, and sick, and dying. I may per- 
 i by the way-side. There is none to help 
 me. I must at last lie down and die. O 
 that I had never wandered from my father's 
 house. 1 fe was a kind and oracious father; 
 he never denied a reasonable request 1 made ; 
 he gave me all I desired, and more ; he never 
 laid on me a hard command ; he never gi 
 me an unkind word or look ; and when, with 
 base ingratitude, I asked for my portion of 
 the goods, how f] did b< it to i 
 
 He WOold have made hi f a 1 __ir to 
 
 please his <=on. Ah. well do I remember the 
 
166 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 last look of agony he cast on me, when 1 
 broke away from him ; how he came to the 
 door, and followed me out, and called to me 
 to come back, and how I hurried away be- 
 yond the reach of his voice. That last call 
 now sounds in my ears. There have been 
 times since that hour, when I have seemed to 
 hear that voice ; when I have returned from 
 a night's debauch, or when conscience has 
 been roused by hearing of his goodness, and 
 his longings for my return. And now I hear 
 that voice again as clearly as when he stood 
 in the door and cried, 'My son, come back.' 
 Yes, I hear it, and methinks I will obey. 
 But will he forgive me, if I do return ? Will 
 he forget my base apostasy, my vile ingrati- 
 tude, my profligate career, my rags, and pov- 
 erty, and shame ? I seem to hear him saying, 
 -Return unto me, and I will return unto you. 
 My son, give me thy heart. 5 It is the voice 
 of my father ! ! I know it, though it speaks 
 but in whispers to my soul. And what if he 
 does disown me, and drive me away from his 
 door ? I deserve to die ; I must perish if I 
 stay here ; and it will sweeten the bitterness 
 
THE PRODIGAL Kl< LAIMED. 167 
 
 of death to die Dear the home of my child- 
 hood, and with this load of guilt remov 
 from my heart. I will not die a prodigal. I 
 will go and fall down before my father and 
 confess my sins, and if I perish. I will die in 
 the dust at bis feet." 
 
 Such reflections as these, resulted in the 
 resolution, "I will arise and £0 to mv father." 
 The decision was timely, and wise, and 
 saving. 
 
 It was tlmchj. Delaying a little longer, it 
 would have been for ever too late. Death 
 was near, death in a most horrid form. 
 Whatever was done, must be done quickly. 
 
 It was wise. He could do nothing better. 
 Help from those around him was out of the 
 question. Husks were useless for a starving 
 man. His father might relieve him; at 
 least, he would make the effort and abide 
 the result. 
 
 It was saving. II** never would return to 
 his father, unless he IOLYBD to return. 
 This fixed determination was essential to his 
 deliveranc . Halting between two opinions, 
 half inclined to go, and half to stay, he would 
 
168 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 have perished there among the swine. In 
 his weak, exhausted state, his case was 
 growing more . and more desperate. He 
 must go or die. 
 
 Now observe, even after his determination, 
 he might perish ; he might alter his purpose 
 and return to his husks : but unless he did 
 determine to return, he must inevitably 
 perish. 
 
 You remember the story of Esther. When 
 she wished to present herself before Ahasue- 
 rus with a petition, she knew r that unless the 
 king should extend his golden sceptre, and 
 permit her to approach the throne, she must 
 die ; but an enemy had laid a plot to destroy 
 her and her people, and unless her request 
 was granted, she must perish. In this ex- 
 tremity she said, " If I perish, I perish ;" 
 and venturing thus, she approached and 
 lived. 
 
 So the lepers of Samaria reasoned. At 
 the gate of a starving city sat four leprous 
 men. Within the city was famine, without 
 was a besieging army. They said one to 
 another, and very wisely, " Why sit we here 
 
Till: PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 1<> ( .J 
 
 until we die. If w y, we will enter into 
 
 the city, then the famine is in the city, and 
 
 we shall die th and if \ it -till here, 
 
 die. also. Now, therefore, come, and let 
 us fall into the host- of tl. riaos; if they 
 us alive, we shall live, and if they kill 
 us, we shall but die." This was good rea- 
 soning, as was shown by the result; they 
 went to the camp and were saved. 
 
 As the starving prodigal reasoned, as the 
 lepers reasoned, so may the sinner reason. 
 
 1 <^an hut perish if I go, 
 
 1 ::i "< »h • 1 to try : 
 For it 1 >:av away. 1 kimw 
 
 I must fur die." 
 
 The sinner, perishing in his sins, must 
 come to a decision^ a firm determination, to 
 forsake them, or he will never come back to 
 God. 
 
 If you are poor and desire to become rich, 
 you will not lie on a bed of idleness, and 
 
 pect gold and silver to come down, like 
 rain, from In I into your hands. If you 
 wish to gain some post of intluence or honor, 
 15 
 
170 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 you will not sit still and expect that, without 
 effort on your part, the prize will be gained. 
 And the greater the prize, the stronger would 
 be your exertions. He who aims to be the 
 conqueror of the world, must make mightier 
 efforts than he who would subdue a province. 
 And if the salvation of the soul, — in value, 
 far surpassing worlds, — be the object in view, 
 it is the plainest dictate of reason, to summon 
 every energy, and, with fixedness of purpose, 
 to come to a decision that, so far as you are 
 able to determine it, the question shall be 
 settled at once, and for ever. 
 
 Such counsel as this is not merely the coun- 
 sel of man's wisdom. It is the advice, nay, it 
 is the command of God your Father, and as 
 such, I urge it on you this day. The children 
 of Israel were wavering in their minds be- 
 tween obedience to God, and base desertion ; 
 and Joshua cried out, " Choose ye this day 
 whom ye will serve." Josh. 24 : 15. The 
 great captain would have them decide on the 
 spot, that their decision might be registered 
 for, or against them. At another time, when 
 the same fickle people were deliberating 
 
II PRODIGAL UCLAIMED. 171 
 
 whether to w tip the Cod of their fathers, 
 or to how the knee to Baal, the prophet 
 Elijah demanded, "How long halt ye I 
 tween two opinions! if the Lord be God, 
 
 low him : but if Baal, then follow him." 
 1 Kings 1^: SI. 
 
 The solemn admonition is now addressed 
 to iner to whom the sound of the 
 
 gospel com- It is this moment addressed 
 
 to the sinner who holds this book in his 
 hand. 
 
 The decision should be made understand" 
 ingty. Religion is a subject, of all others, 
 worthy of an intelligent consideration. It 
 has claims on the minds of men that will bear 
 the test of rigid examination ; and if you can 
 find a good reason why you should not yield 
 to those claims, a reason that will be sutii- 
 
 •nt to excuse you in the hour of judgment, 
 then you may m t the subject altogether. 
 Ti :i to foi ii and turn to God, 
 
 will require you to make sacrifices, and you 
 
 must count the cost before you bc^in to build. 
 E c if you are about to build a house 
 
 for eternity, you must look well to the founda- 
 
172 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 tion on which the structure is to be reared. 
 Examine the subject in the fear of God, with 
 the Bible before you, on your knees in prayer, 
 with the certainty that you are soon to appear 
 at the bar of the universe, to answer for all 
 the deeds done in the body ; and if, in view 
 of these truths, it appears to you a reasonable 
 thing to forsake your sins, then and there de- 
 cide to be on the Lord's side. 
 
 The decision should be made in humble 
 dependence on divine grace. " If the Lord 
 do not help thee," said the king of Samaria, 
 to a starving woman, " whence shall I help 
 thee ?" You may make ten thousand solemn 
 resolutions to repent, but without strength from 
 God to keep them, you will break them all, 
 and go back to your sins. Perhaps your 
 own experience will confirm these remarks. 
 Often you have thought that you would seek 
 the Lord, and make preparation for death 
 and heaven ; but these thoughts have gone, 
 and you have become more careless than 
 before. And so averse is your wicked heart 
 to all that is holy, so fond are you of all that 
 is evil, that without the almighty power of 
 
THE PRODIGAL KFXLWMKD. 17* 
 
 God to overcom ur aver-ion to holiness, 
 
 and your love of sin, you must perish, miser- 
 ly and eternally. This IS the uniform testi- 
 mony of Scripture And it is a truth which 
 cannot be overlooked or disbelieved, without 
 fatal injury to the soul. If the sinner cher- 
 ishes the error, that he can change his own 
 irt without divine aid, and go to heaven in 
 his own strength, he will probably make no 
 effort until it is too late to repent, and if he 
 does make the effort, the result will show at 
 once bis ignorance and weaknes You 
 
 must, therefore, form the resolution to turn 
 unto the Lord, with a deep sense of your 
 need of divine grace to assist you in every 
 step you take. 
 
 The determination should be unaltcrablt . 
 
 Having formed this purpose in your own 
 
 mind, it would be well to go away into some 
 
 I place where no eye but that of God 
 
 can .- nd tl. in solitude, but in the 
 
 sence of him who 1 inmost thought 
 
 of your heart, write this i ion, 'I will 
 
 arise and go to my Father.' 3 1 do not a 
 
 you to record the resolution if you decide to 
 
 15* 
 
174 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 be against the Lord. I have heard a story 
 that illustrates the danger of forming rash 
 resolutions to sin, and I will mention it, 
 though the place and date of the occurrence 
 have been forgotten. 
 
 A preacher, in making an appeal to an 
 assembly of college students, from these 
 words, " Choose you this day whom you will 
 serve," called upon the young men to come 
 to a decision that night, to be for or against 
 God. " Go to your rooms," said he, " and 
 there deliberate whether or not you will 
 serve the Lord. And when you have de- 
 cided, write the decision in your own blood, 
 that it may be regarded by yourselves, as 
 final and unalterable." Six or eight of those 
 who heard this appeal, assembled that night 
 in one room, and there agreed, that let others 
 do as they would, as for them, they would 
 serve the devil ! They drew up a covenant, 
 and, opening a vein, they signed it in blood, 
 making a formal surrender of themselves to 
 the service of Satan. It is related, further, 
 that the preacher whose exhortation had led 
 them to this horrid resolution, lived to know, 
 
Pal NMDIGAL RECLAIMED. 17") 
 
 that every one of them came to an untimely 
 
 death, in the midst of I dissolute and blas- 
 phemous career. 
 
 I a ou to make a solemn determination, 
 from which you will ne\er go back, that you 
 will be the Lord 
 
 Make it immediately* Ther 10 time to 
 lo- The prodigal might have; lived some 
 days longer, perhaps weeks, but soon he 
 would have stink into a state of insensibility, 
 from which he could not have been aroused. 
 Relief to a perishing man may come too late, 
 Chough it comes before life is gone. The 
 sinner may sink into stupidity, deathlike and 
 fatal, and before the "lamp of life has ceased 
 to burn." he may be unconscious of his dying 
 condition. His eyes may be blinded, his e 
 
 stopped, his heart hardened] his coiwimce 
 
 seared, and his soul, deserted by the Spirit of 
 d. may be given over to destruction. 
 How far you may be gone, we know not. If 
 vou feel one emotion of concern still lingering 
 in your heart, it i^ an evidence that the Holy 
 Ghost i to be gracious and that you 
 
 may yet live. Nor il it needful that you 
 
176 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 should be told how suddenly your hold on 
 life may be sundered, and all opportunity of 
 repentance for ever cut off. Were you cer- 
 tain of life for three-score years and ten, the 
 work before you is great enough to require 
 the whole. Ten thousand years are not too 
 many to be employed in making ready for 
 eternity. And when you are not sure of ten 
 years, or ten days, or ten minutes, in which to 
 accomplish the mighty work, ought you not 
 to begin at once ? at least, decide to begin ? 
 Suppose that you were under sentence of 
 death, and a promise of pardon were made to 
 you, on the condition, that before another 
 hour was spent, you would confess your guilt 
 and pledge future obedience to the laws. 
 Would you ask the messenger of such tidings 
 to take out his watch and tell you, as the 
 minutes passed, that you had one less and 
 one less, so that as the last moment was ex- 
 piring, you might confess and promise ? No ; 
 the instant the offer was made, you would fall 
 down on your knees, bewail your crime, and 
 pledge perpetual obedience. The messenger 
 of God comes to you, a criminal, under sen- 
 
Tin: PB0DIG LL R] :< L LIMED. 171 
 
 ernal death, and he offers pardon. 
 And will von ask for one minute more, and 
 one more, hoping that the lime is not 
 
 Kit, that yon may I and I 
 
 from hell? fa it prudent to be putting in 
 jeopardy your immortal hit 
 from day to day, a c! on that invoh 
 heaven with all its y A with it- end- 
 
 less burnings? If etwiiti may i id on 
 
 to-day, is it prudent to defer this day's duty 
 until to-morrow To-morrow may never 
 
 come to vou. If von would make a wise (I 
 cision. you will make it now. "Now is the 
 accepted time, behold now is the day of sal- 
 ition." 
 
 Why is it then. O sinner, that you ite 
 
 to form the resolution of the prodigal," I will 
 arise and go to my Fat -No appeal 
 
 ha n made 10 your j Jtif 
 
 i up to >uinc rash ution which you 
 
 may r. Religi not a mere 
 
 impu It . rational subject, t 
 
 mdor and judgment, and when 
 
 fairly understood your duty, do it; 
 
 ] are routed bv appeals to 
 
178 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 your feelings, but because you are convinced 
 that it is your duty to repent and forsake your 
 sins, and because you know that you will be 
 lost if you do not. If there is any thing in 
 this truth to alarm you, then be alarmed. If 
 you are afraid to go into eternity with the 
 unforgiven guilt of a whole life resting upon 
 you, then fear and tremble. If you are afraid 
 to stand on the verge of the bottomless pit, 
 while fiery billows roll below, then fly from 
 the spot where you now stand. If you are 
 afraid to rest "on the palm of the hand of an 
 angry God," then fly to his bosom, and seek 
 a shelter there. 
 
 But what thou doest, do quickly. Time 
 rolls on, and will soon bear you beyond the 
 confines of this world, into a " far country," 
 from which you will never return. 
 
 " Haste, O sinner, to be wise, 
 
 Stay not for to-morrow's sun," 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 17'J 
 
 a AFTER XI. 
 
 Repentance — The prodigal will fall down before his father 
 
 and confess his sins. 
 
 The ruined young man. resolving to return 
 to his father, begins to feel his unworthiness 
 to be received into that father's favor and love. 
 He saw that his ingratitude had jti xposed 
 
 him to the indignation of one whose kindness 
 he now desired, and as his own shameful 
 conduct appeared in contrast with the char- 
 acter of his father and the treatment he had 
 rer •! at his hands, a deep sense of his 
 rileness and wickedness took possession of his 
 heart. He was decided not only to return, 
 but to humble himself at the feet of his father, 
 confess his sin-, and plead for pardon. The 
 Ian e of his confession is here recorded, 
 
 it other prodigals may know in what terms 
 they must acknowledge their transgressions 
 when they come back to God. He said to 
 
180 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 himself, " 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 wor- 
 thy to be called thy son : make me as one of 
 thy hired servants." This confession shows 
 us the emotions of his heart. It is the lan- 
 guage of a penitent. And although in the 
 order of the story, we have not reached the 
 point where this confession was made^ we 
 may contemplate it here where it was first 
 conceived, as our Father looks on the heart, 
 and regards, with interest, intense and holy, the 
 first risings of sorrow which are felt in view of 
 sin. In this confession there are several im- 
 portant points to be noticed as implied in true 
 repentance. 
 
 1. He was deeply sensible that he was a 
 sinner. In language which is now understood 
 by children as well as others, we would say 
 that he was under conviction of sin. It is one 
 thing to acknowledge yourself a sinner, and 
 it may be quite another to feel yourself to be 
 one in the sight of God. All men who be- 
 lieve the Bible will admit that they have not 
 kept the commandments ; that they have 
 
m raOMCIII RECLAIMED. 181 
 
 broken them in thought, word and deed. 
 And thus having broken the law, they are 
 irving punishment. \ -inner may 
 be willing to own his L r uilt, but still have no 
 deep sense of its nature. In this sen-*', the 
 most of those who live under the gospel an 4 
 convince*! of sin, and are readv to confess their 
 exposure to its penalty. 
 
 But when the Spirit of God opens the blind 
 eyes of the sinner that he may see himself as 
 he appears in the sight of a holy God, the 
 discovery he makes is terrible and over- 
 whelming. " I was alive without the law 
 once : but when the commandment came, sin 
 revived and I died.' 3 Rom. 7: 9. This was 
 the account which a great sinner gave of 
 himself after he had been converted. He 
 thought he was a very- good man before, but 
 when the law of God, requiring "truth in 
 the inward parts' (Psalm 51 : 6), was re- 
 vealed, and he saw that he had never yielded 
 to its holy precepts a single emotion of his 
 
 irt. be Mink under the power of personal 
 conviction of sin, and ihi:h. As death v 
 the penalty of a broken law, he saw and felt 
 
 16 
 
182 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 his desert of death, and therefore used this 
 strong language to express his feelings in view 
 of the discovery he had made. The exercises 
 of all are not alike under the convicting in- 
 fluences of the Holy Spirit. Some whose 
 lives have been marked with no flagrant vices 
 have been highly excited, and their convic- 
 tions have been attended with strong anguish 
 of soul ; while others more openly profane and 
 ungodly have exhibited less powerful emo- 
 tions. But every sinner, who would come to 
 God for pardon, must feel as this Prodigal 
 when he said, I have sinned. And the 
 steps by which men are led to this conscious- 
 ness of personal guilt are as various as their 
 exercises under it. Sometimes a sinner is 
 suddenly alarmed by the preaching of divine 
 truth, and awakened to a sense of his lost 
 condition, and soon he discovers the secret of 
 his danger to be his sinfulness before God. 
 Another may be induced to read the Bible, 
 or some other good book, and thus be guided 
 to a knowledge of himself ; or the providence 
 of God may arrest his attention and bring him 
 to consider his ways ; or, in an hour of cool 
 
THF, PftODIOAL RECLAIMED. 183 
 
 reflection, tired of the vain pursuits of the 
 
 id with the husks it o , like 
 tlie Prodigal, he turns his thoughts towards 
 his lather's house and longs to be the 
 Tl: are hut so many means which the 
 Holy Spirit employs to convince men of sin, 
 and when their attention has fastened upon 
 the exercises of their hearts, and they contrast 
 themselves with Him whose eyes are too pure 
 u to look on evil" (Mab. 1: J:J), they are 
 led to cry out, in the words of the penitent 
 publican, " God be merciful to me a sinn<T. v 
 The first words the Prodigal would utter when 
 he came to fall down before his father, would 
 be, %i I have sinned. I cannot deny it. I 
 have basely deserted him whom I ought to 
 have loved as my dearest friend : I have 
 unded him to the heart by my vile ingrat- 
 itude ; and since I ha ast off his authority 
 and pi: d my own chosen \ I have 
 
 d the L r oods he j consumed 
 
 them on my own lusts, and reduced myself 
 to my present wretched state of deep < ir. 
 I feel that i am a sinn<.r, and in no ot: 
 character can I present myself before my 
 injured father." 
 
184 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 And when the sinner, under conviction of 
 his personal guilt, presents himself at the foot- 
 stool of mercy, he must come with this lan- 
 guage on his lips : " I know, I feel, that I am 
 a sinner. Long ago I broke God's holy laws, 
 and never, never did I love the Saviour with 
 my heart. I have sinned in times and ways 
 without number. Sabbaths I have wasted, 
 sermons 1 have slighted, whispers of con- 
 science I have silenced, strivings of the Holy 
 Spirit I have resisted, the love of God the 
 Father, and of Christ the Son, love that 
 ought to have won my love, and moved and 
 melted my heart, I have abused ! How like 
 a prodigal I have wasted the rich bounties of 
 God's providence, and the richer bounties of 
 his grace ! And now the memory of these 
 sins fills me with remorse and shame. How 
 have I hated instruction and my heart has 
 despised reproof, and have not obeyed the 
 voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear 
 to them that instructed me ! I was almost in 
 all evil in the midst of the congregation. 
 Prov.5: 12—14. Guilty, guilty, GUILT Y, 
 1 must plead, and throw myself on the mercy 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 185 
 
 which up to this hour I have madly despised/' 
 This lan_ a sinner who fe 
 
 convicted of sin. and who not to COI 
 
 his guilt or to charge it on another, but tai 
 all the blame on his own soul. And the 
 Prodigal was ready to go still farth- 
 
 . •• 1 have sinned agaln.it hcavm." So 
 David, when convicted of his foul sin, and cut 
 down under a sense of his guilt, cried out to 
 God," Against thee, thec only, have I sinned 
 and done this evil in thy sight." Ps. 51 : 4« 
 Thee only And had not the adulterer and 
 murderer blasted the peace of his oeighbo 
 house, and filled it with shame and blood? 
 How then could he say that he had sinned 
 only against God Because the peculiar 
 wickedness of his crimes appeared when he 
 saw himself in the presence of a God of spot- 
 less holi whom he had L r nevoi^ly offended, 
 and whose displeasure he had incurred. And 
 when the sinner reviews his life, and calls to 
 mind his individual acts, and surveys his 
 irt in all the ■■nt of its wickedness, it is 
 not the injury which he has done to society 
 that affects him so much, as the fact that 
 10* 
 
186 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 every sin he has committed, every thought of 
 sin he has indulged, is a weapon formed against 
 the God of heaven ! Treason against the 
 throne of the universe is the crime of which 
 every sinner stands condemned. The very 
 Being who formed you for his own glory is 
 the one whom you have defied. The love 
 that fills heaven with bliss and would make 
 you as happy as the angels, is the love which 
 you have contemned. God is love, and on 
 the throne of his holiness he sits and beholds 
 you in your apostasy, and as you turn your 
 back upon him and rush on in sin, ".his 
 heart is turned within him," and he cries, 
 u How shall I give thee up !" The serpent, 
 when warmed, stung his benefactor, whose 
 bosom had sheltered him from the cold. He 
 against whom you have sinned has thrown 
 his arms of kindness around you, saved you 
 from death and hell, opened the door to 
 heaven, and offered an everlasting home 
 with him in joy that no heart has yet con- 
 ceived ; and that is the Being at whom the 
 arrows of your sin are aimed. " I have 
 sinned against heaven." Compared with my 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 187 
 
 offences against h< . all my crimes ap- 
 pear scarce worthy of being mentioned. 
 How could I be so ungrateful, so vile, so 
 wicked, as to harden my heart against the 
 kindest of benefactors, tbe best of friends, the 
 tenderest of parents. I knew that he hated 
 sin. I have heard him saying by his prophet 
 (Jer. 44 : 4), " O, do not this abominable 
 thing that I hate.' 3 Bui with the full con- 
 sciousness that his holy eye was looking on 
 me, and his heart ^rievin^ over mv un^rodli- 
 ness, I have Binned against him, repeatedly, 
 
 -peratelv, and without excuse. I have 
 sinned against heaven and before thee, and, 
 
 3. u I am no more worthy to be called thy 
 son." His unicorthinesi overwhelmed him. 
 Self-condemnation is essential to true repent- 
 an< And as the wretched prodigal re- 
 
 membered the scenes of guilt and shame 
 through which he had passed in his course 
 of riotous livii and his d service 
 
 amonij the swine, and thought of returning to 
 his fatl house wi purity alone could 
 
 ter, he lVIt like saying with one of old, 
 11 \\ bereibre 1 abhor myself and rep e l in 
 
188 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 dust and ashes." Job 42 : 6. And another, 
 looking on himself and his people in contrast 
 with the holiness of God, cried out, " O Lord, 
 righteousness belongeth unto thee, but unto 
 us confusion of face," " because we have 
 sinned against thee." Dan. 9: 7 — 8. And 
 the weeping prophet said, " We lie down in 
 our shame, and our confusion covereth us ; 
 for we have sinned against the Lord our 
 God." Jer. 3 : 25. In all the penitential 
 Psalms, and in the Lamentations of Jeremiah, 
 what heart-breaking and humiliating confes- 
 sions of sin do these writers make, showing, as 
 well as words can show, how they despised 
 themselves. And the nearer they approached 
 the throne of grace to find the pardoning 
 mercy of a pure and holy God, the deeper 
 was their sense of personal shame and guilt. 
 This was true of the Prodigal. How shall I 
 appear before my father 1 My conscience 
 is my own accuser, and I feel that I am utterly 
 unfit to lie in the dust at his feet. So the 
 poor sinner, whose heart is pierced with a 
 sense of his true character, loathes himself, and 
 can scarcely believe that there is any other 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 189 
 
 SlODOer on earth so vile 10 the sight of heaven. 
 
 Perhaps bis exposure to the punishment due to 
 
 ;i- first tilled him with alarm and led him 
 to seek for some way of deliverance from the 
 curse of a broken law. Hut as he discow 
 his own sinfulness more clearly, he abhors 
 himself and hates sin, not because it exposes 
 him to the wrath of an angry God, but be- 
 cause it is odious and abominable in itself, 
 and renders him altogether unworthy of com- 
 ing into the presence of holy beings. 
 
 And now he feels how just it is that God 
 has threatened to punish sin. He is ready to 
 admit that he himself deserves to die, to die 
 eternally, so clearly has he incurred the 
 penalty of the law. One sin deserves pun- 
 ishment, and the number of his transgressions 
 is so great, and their guilt so manifest, that 
 he cannot undertake to justify or excuse 
 them. 
 
 44 Should sodden ve&geane ce my breath, 
 I must pronounce thee yuM in death ; 
 
 id if my boo] is sent t«» lull, 
 Thyrighteoui law ^\ . well." 
 
190 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 To feel this truth sincerely is essential to 
 true repentance. As long as you are labor- 
 ing to make yourself to appear not quite so 
 bad as the Spirit of God has convinced you 
 that you are, as your own conscience up- 
 braids you with being, and as the Bible 
 represents every unconverted sinner to be, so 
 long you are refusing to humble yourself 
 before your Father. And why seek to justify 
 or palliate your offences ? They are all 
 spread out in the face of heaven. They will 
 all come up against you in the day of judg- 
 ment. Instead of making a vain attempt to 
 conceal your wickedness, go and fall down 
 before God, and cry with the penitent author 
 of the fifty-first Psalm, " Have mercy upon 
 me, O God, according to thy loving-kindness : 
 according unto the multitude of thy tender 
 mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash 
 me thoroughly from mine iniquity and cleanse 
 me from my sin. For I acknowledge my 
 transgressions, and mv sin is ever before me.' 3 
 Read the whole of this prayer on your bended 
 knees, and with strong crying and tears, as 
 you observe its marked description of your 
 
THE PBODIGAL RECLAIMED. 191 
 
 own ( Behold the Prodigal in the dust 
 
 e his fath( Hear him exclaiming in 
 
 deep self-abasement, Father, I have Binned 
 
 heaven and before thee, and am no 
 
 more worthy to be called thy son ; make me 
 as one of thy hired servants. 1 do not deserve 
 to be restored to the honors and privileges 
 which I have lost by my base apostasy. I 
 ask not a seat at thy right hand, and an 
 assurance of future reward, but only that thou, 
 whom I have offended, wouldst forgive me, 
 and remove from my soul this grievous load 
 of sin. Lay thy rod upon me, and it shall 
 be well. Smite me, I deserve to suffer. Slay 
 me, I deserve to die. But O, let me hear thy 
 voice, in tones of pardon, assuring me that 
 thou art reconciled to thine apostate, prodigal 
 son, and I will die in peac . Such acknowl- 
 edgments of guilt would clearly indicate, 
 
 4. A determination to forsake sin. The 
 repenting sinner, convinced of its evil nature 
 and its fatal efi dies from it as from the 
 
 plague. All the sins of hi -t life come up 
 in array before him, and he shrinks from them, 
 wondering that he could ever discover in th 
 
192 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 any thing to love, and determined never to 
 harbor them again. Those sins which were 
 once most dear, that led him farthest from 
 God, and nearest to the brink of hell, that 
 held him firmest in their grasp, and threatened 
 most fiercely to work his ruin, he now regards 
 his worst enemies, and prays most earnestly 
 to be delivered from their power. 
 
 Thus he is able to bring to a test his re- 
 pentance. If he has mourned over his sins 
 simply because they are likely to make him 
 miserable when punishment follows them, his 
 repentance is nothing more than selfish fear 
 of consequences, and when that fear subsides 
 he will return to his sins, and sink into deeper 
 stupidity than that from which he has just 
 been roused. But if he feels sorrow for sin 
 because it is odious in itself, and offensive to 
 the God of spotless purity who has forbidden 
 it, if he loathes it because it is the only source 
 of misery in the universe, and must make 
 misery wherever it is found and as long as it 
 endures, if he hates it as an enemy which he 
 would for ever shun, and from which he hopes 
 ever to be delivered, then is his sorrow sincere, 
 
THE PBODIOAL Kl< L LMIEO. 103 
 
 and such as a father loves to sec in the bosom 
 of a prodigal child. 
 
 Such repentance is followed by reformation. 
 The sins that he loved, he hat< The com- 
 panions, whose - ty was once his delight, 
 he now forsakes for the company of those 
 whom God loves. The vices which hefore 
 had unbounded influence over him. and which 
 stood b- n him and heaven as an impassa- 
 
 ble gulf, he is now enabled to renounce, 
 while he seeks the ways of wisdom which are 
 pleasantness, and her paths which are peace. 
 
 Do you, whose eyes have run over these 
 leaves, feel a sympathy with this penitent 
 youth in the sorrows of his heart over past 
 sin Like him, you have wandered; like 
 him, you have eaten the bitter fruits of apos- 
 tasy from God ; like him, you have reached 
 the very verge of ruin, and unless vou repent 
 and turn, you must soon be fan the world of 
 despair. Are you sensible of your exceeding 
 sinfulness in the sight of Infinite Holiness, and 
 do you feel d norse and shame wl 
 
 your transgressions contemplated as com- 
 
 mitted aoain-t a God of I, who is exiei 
 17 
 
194 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 by the waywardness of those whom he made 
 to be happy in his presence for ever ? Would 
 it be perfectly just and right for God to send 
 you to hell under sentence of eternal separa- 
 tion from him and all holy beings ? And 
 should he thus punish you, is your heart so 
 affected in view of sin, that you desire to avoid 
 it and be freed from it, though you are never 
 permitted to enter into heaven ? This is a 
 point to be guarded with the utmost care. If 
 your regret for sin is the fear of punishment, 
 it is not repentance. There is a sorrow for sin 
 that "worketh death." 2 Cor. 7: 10. It 
 is the grief of the sinner when he hates to 
 give up his sins, but feels that he must or be 
 punished. Godly sorrow, that is, repentance 
 unto salvation, is a different exercise, and one 
 which must be experienced by every sinner, 
 before an offended God and father will be 
 reconciled to him. If that sorrow, which has 
 been explained in this chapter, and which 
 was felt by the prodigal, by David and by the 
 publican who would not lift up his eyes to 
 heaven, if that sorrow now weighs on your 
 heart, you will be ready to say, with sincerity 
 
Tin: PRODIGAL RECI+AIMED. L! 
 
 of soul, O thou who dwellest in the high and 
 holy place, with him also that is of a con- 
 trite and humble spirit, my (Jod and Father, 
 let me how down before thee and confess my 
 sins. They are more in number than the 
 
 ids on the sea-shore and the Stan of heaven. 
 They are lavated by the light and love 
 
 linsl which they have been committed, for 
 I have known my duty but have not done it ; 
 and I have resisted the strongest motives 
 thy word and thy Spirit have urged upon my 
 heart. I cannot answer for one of a thousand 
 of my transgressions. Thou hast set mine 
 iniquities before tfa my secret sins in the 
 
 lit of thy countenance ; and as they are 
 revealed to me in some measure as thou seest 
 them. I abhor myself and repent in dust and 
 ashes. Unclean, unclean, God be merciful 
 to me a sinner. I have sinned against heaven 
 and before thee, and am no more worthy to 
 be called thy son. 
 
 () tilOU, H i rs 
 
 mini)! i : 
 
 Whose hand indu! rs 
 
 Frum borrow B : 
 
196 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 See, low before thy throne of grace, 
 A wretched wanderer mourn ; 
 
 Hast thou not bid me seek thy face ? 
 Hast thou not said, Return 1 
 
 O, shine on this benighted heart, 
 With beams of mercy shine ! 
 
 And let thy healing voice impart 
 A taste of joys divine." 
 
THE l'KODIGAL RECLA1MKD. 191 
 
 C1I APT BR XI 1 . 
 
 Faith — The Prodigal returns — Tl. :>tion. 
 
 There oomes a youth whose face bean 
 some slight resemblance to one we have seen 
 Hi- tattered garments, scarcely cov- 
 ering bis nakedness, bis emaciated form, his 
 countenance marked with dis and shame, 
 tell a sad tale of ring and wo. Grief, 
 
 too, is depicted in his tearful 3, and were 
 it not for a look of strong determination to 
 press on. and of confidence that he will reach 
 ud of his journey. I should fear that he 
 II hist ready to fall down and di . But he 
 does not look like one who was always thus 
 wretched. Something about him shows that 
 
 o 
 
 be has seen better days than tl Ili< 
 
 rments are in rags, but they the rags of 
 form 
 
 It b t: man whom hut a 
 
 montl _ out from his 
 
 fat: house, clad in the vestments of luxtn 
 
 17* 
 
198 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 with abundance of wealth in his hands, a child 
 of ease and pleasure, who had never known 
 care or poverty but by name. u A wander- 
 ing, weary, worn and wretched thing," he 
 travels on, cheered by a faint hope that he 
 may live to find his father's house again, or 
 driven by the dreadful certainty that he will 
 perish with hunger if he does not. If the 
 thought of sinful pleasures, which he once 
 enjoyed, returns to tempt him back, and 
 something whispers that he will never find 
 them in the quiet of the home he seeks, yet 
 having proved the emptiness and felt the sin- 
 fulness of the follies once so dear to his heart, 
 he resists the temptation to return, and for- 
 getting the things that are behind, presses 
 onward to those that are before. Sometimes 
 he feels faint and weary, the dangers and 
 difficulties of the way dishearten him, and he 
 thinks of giving up in despair, but his awakened 
 conscience urges him to go and confess his 
 guilt, and he feels, that if he must perish, it is 
 better far to die on the way to his father's 
 house. He may doubt his father's willing- 
 ness to receive him, and so vile does he now 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 199 
 
 appear in hlfl own eyes, that he knows it 
 
 would be right for hi- father to reject him 
 
 with scorn and drive him Starring from his 
 door. But even this most painful apprehen- 
 sion doe- not hinder his progres He knows 
 that he ought to return, though he were -ure 
 of being i ted; that he ought to submit 
 himself to his father whose service he has 
 
 d e s er t ed , though that father should load him 
 
 with chains and make 4 him a slave for life. 
 And more than this, there i- in the character 
 of his father something that assures him he 
 
 will he welcomed and forgiven when becomes 
 .and whether received or rejected, he 
 
 determine- to L r o. 
 
 During the long months or years of this 
 ong man'- absence from home, what were 
 ■ feelings of the father whom he had -hame- 
 
 fnllv deserted! Had he forgotten the bo) 
 whom he loved so tenderly : Had he ceased 
 • he anxious for his welfare, or to look for 
 hi-- return No. no. I> fter day, weds 
 ■ek. month after month, he had prayed 
 and w ept over th e of his w andering child. 
 Lon_r and nights of anguish had he 
 
200 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 passed, with thoughts of his lost one preying 
 on his soul, and hope of his restoration hav- 
 ing failed and expired. Often would he 
 stand in the door of the house where he 
 parted with his son, and find a melancholy 
 relief in watching the spot where for the 
 last time he saw the departing form of his 
 wayward boy. O, who can tell, that has 
 not felt, the bitterness of his cup, whose gray 
 hairs are brought down to the grave in sorrow 
 over a disobedient son ! O, who can tell, 
 that has not felt, 
 
 " How worse than serpent's tooth it is, 
 To have a thankless child." 
 
 It is hard to bury in the earth the son of 
 your hope and love, in all the freshness and 
 bloom of youth ;. to feel that his glad voice 
 will be heard no more in your halls, nor his 
 sweet smile meet you at the fireside again 
 for ever. But there is joy in the heart of 
 that parent who weeps over the grave of his 
 darling child, compared to the strong agony 
 of him whose son has sundered the ties of 
 filial and fraternal love, and has become an 
 
Tin: utonK.AL RECLAIMED. 201 
 
 out nn th.' world, a roving, reckless, 
 
 ruined Prodigal. I p j e nol for the dead, 
 
 neither bemoan him: but weep -ore for him 
 that goeth away." Jer. 22: 10. This, tku 
 was the grief that was rending the parental 
 ut of David, when the tidings came that 
 rebellious son had perished in arm- ost 
 his father, and he lifted up hi- voice and wept 
 
 as he said. " () my son Absalom! my son, 
 ray son Absalom ! Would God 1 had died 
 for thee. () Absalom, my son, my son !" 2 
 Sam. 18: 3:3. 
 
 The father of this Prodigal was mourning 
 still for hi< lost son. He has grown old he- 
 fore his time, and wrinkled with care, and 
 bowed with grief] he feels that he himself has 
 not long to live; hut he cannot die in peace 
 till he beholds once more the face of one 
 who has wandered from tris bouse he kno 
 
 not whith' . Il< i- standing on an eminence 
 a commands a wide view of the country 
 fbre him : he ly dares to hope that he 
 
 nffl it of hi- long-lost ho\ . Again 
 
 and again he 1 ome and Looked, and gone 
 
 away t< gain : hut now hi- heart has 
 
202 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 failed him ; he feels almost sure that his eyes 
 will never more be blessed with that wished 
 for sight ; when lo ! in the distance he spies 
 the form of one approaching. He has often 
 thus been deceived and he may be again. 
 " It is only some poor wayfaring man, ragged 
 and worn ; O that he might be my son ! 
 What if he does come in rags ; if he will only 
 come to my arms, it is all I ask. And now 
 that he draws nearer there is something in his 
 step, his form, there is something here in my 
 heart, that tells me he is coming. God grant 
 it may be my son, my long lost son." 
 
 Tears blur the good man's eyes ; he wipes 
 them away with the fold of his robe and looks 
 again. Joy, joy to thy breaking heart, O 
 father, it is thy son ! " 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 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 
 
TUT. PBODIGAL RKCLAIMKD. 208 
 
 t ; and bring hither the fatted calf and kill 
 it. and lei in eat and be merry : for this my 
 
 i was dead and is alive again, he was lost 
 and is found." 
 
 r l Tie Prodigal coming to his father is a 
 -inner coming to Christ. The wisdom and 
 love of God have employed a great variety of 
 terms to show the way by which poor lost 
 sinners may be led hack to him from whom 
 they have wandered, and in infinite kindn- 
 to perishing prodigals he has left no means 
 untried to win them to his house and arm-. 
 
 Fwth in Jr^N Christ i- made the condi- 
 tion on which God is willing to pardon peni- 
 
 it sinners. Hut simple as these word- 
 appear, it i- -till true that unconverted persons 
 think there i< more darkness around this one 
 
 point than almost any other truth in the Bible. 
 When the sinner has been made sensible of 
 hi- sinfiiln ad danger, he cries out with 
 the awakened jailer at Philippi, " What mi 
 
 I do to be ! I ':*' Bul w hen we fl I r. 
 
 Believe on the Ix>rd Jesus Christ, he ;i^k< 
 again, u What is it to btki To the 
 
 ans of this inquiry we ask your do 
 
 attention. 
 
204 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 You have read the New Testament enough 
 to be familiar with such passages as these : 
 u As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wil- 
 derness, even so must the Son of man be 
 lifted up ; that whosoever believeth in him 
 should not perish but have eternal life." 
 John 3 : 14 — 15. " He that believeth on 
 him is not condemned." 18. " He that be- 
 lieveth on the Son hath everlasting life ; and 
 he that believeth not the Son, shall not see 
 life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him." 
 36. " He that believeth and is baptized 
 shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall 
 be damned." Mark 16: 16. In these pas- 
 sages we are again and again assured that 
 salvation from hell is connected with the be- 
 lief of truth concerning Jesus Christ. What 
 that truth is, and how you are to receive it, 
 are subjects of solemn inquiry. 
 
 1. There is no other way of salvation than 
 by Jesus Christ. God requires you to obey 
 his law, and if you have ever broken it in the 
 least particular, you deserve to be punished. 
 The penalty of disobedience is death, and 
 you deserve to die. If for one sin that pen- 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. '203 
 
 alt y is du*'. how great is jtoui desert of eternal 
 death for tli** innumerable sins of which you 
 stand condemned* And should yon spend 
 the reel of your life in the service erf God, 
 keeping all hia commandments perfectly, the 
 sin- you have already committed stand charg 
 •gains! yon. and you must answer for them 
 IB judgment How shall you escape ] Th< 
 
 il no way of escape, and you must perish 
 under the sentence of the law, unless some 
 one will suffer in your place. This shows 
 you the n< ity of a Redeemer. — of one who 
 will hear the iniquities of the sinner, and who, 
 by making an atonement for sin. will satisfy 
 the demands of a righteous law and render it 
 in and proper for God to forgive the guilty. 
 Such a Redeemer is the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 such an atonement has he made. " Neither 
 is there salvation in any Other; for tin i - i - 
 none other name under heaven given among 
 men. whereby we mu>t he .-axed.* 1 Act- 
 
 4: 18. Sou may labor hard to find boj 
 
 other way to heaven than that which leads 
 
 u by the cross of Christ, but every other 
 
 will lead you down to death and hell. The 
 
 18 
 
206 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 poor woman who came to the Saviour to be 
 healed of a malady under which she had long 
 suffered, had " spent all her living upon 
 physicians and was nothing bettered, but 
 rather grew worse." But despairing of all 
 other help, she came to the great physician 
 and was made whole. Let this, therefore, be 
 a settled point with you, that Jesus Christ is 
 the only Saviour of lost sinners. 
 
 2. He is just the Saviour you need. All 
 that God requires, as the conditions on which 
 he will make you the offer of forgiveness, 
 Jesus Christ has done. The Son of God, 
 equal to the Father, voluntarily submitted to 
 the law, and became obedient unto death, 
 even the death of the cross. The sufferings 
 which he endured may therefore be regarded 
 as an atonement for the sins of those for whom 
 he died, and God may be just while he pardons 
 the repenting sinner. 
 
 He is an all-sufficient Saviour. The sac- 
 rifice he made is enough for a world in sin. 
 Millions on millions have believed in this 
 Saviour, and dying in faith have gone home 
 to glory to sing his praises before the throne. 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 07 
 
 Millions now living have found him suited in 
 all respects to their wants, and trusting in him 
 have rejoiced with joy unspeakable. The 
 sin m\ earth have found this 
 
 S viour su cut for their salvation, and the 
 <>ni of their pardon through the blood of 
 v rist is now written to encourage you and 
 all to pome to him and beli< . • . It is not 
 strange that one w hose ej es hai e been opened 
 to see his vileness 3 and whose heart has been 
 pierced with a • of his just desert of 
 
 punishment, should doubt that his salvation 
 can be secured; and when the gospel brin 
 to view th cious provisions made by Jesus 
 ( urist, he cannot be persuaded that the pro- 
 vision is great enough for his case. I>ut to 
 such doubts, let the mind be fixed on 
 the >s of the sacrifice which the Lord 
 
 of glory made when he undertook the work 
 of man's redemption ; follow him through all 
 the sufii ndured, from the mang 
 
 where i laid in infancy, to the cros 
 
 which he hung in death; listen to the voice 
 of this lv leemer as b< . " Look unto 
 
 and be J I, all the end.-, of the earth, 
 
208 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 for I am God, AND THERE IS NONE ELSE." 
 
 Is. 45 : 22. Hear the converted Saul ex- 
 claiming, " This is a faithful saying, and 
 worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus 
 came into the world to save sinners ; of 
 whom I am chief." And in another place, 
 under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, he 
 declares, " He is able to save them to the 
 uttermost that come unto God by him, 
 seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for 
 them." Heb. 7 : 25. 
 
 If Jesus Christ is able to save the chief of 
 sinners, to save unto the uttermost all that 
 come, if he is " God over all " and " mighty 
 to save," if the greatest sinners have already 
 found his blood sufficient to wash away their 
 sins, why should you doubt that he is able 
 to save you ? You are a great sinner ; you 
 deserve to perish for ever ; nothing short of 
 an Almighty Redeemer can save you ; this 
 Saviour, therefore, is just the one you need. 
 
 3. He is willing to save you ! And this 
 is a truth which you are also slow to believe. 
 You have heard him in the gospel uttering 
 such sweet invitations as these : " Come unto 
 
THE PRODIGAL RFXLAIMED. )9 
 
 DM all ye that labot and aiv heavy laden and 
 I will give you rest.' 3 [f any man thirst 
 let him come unto me and drink.' 1 And in 
 other puts oi the sacred volume yon ha 
 
 id these word- : " I one that 
 
 thirsteth, - to the waters, and be that 
 
 hath no moi buy and eat j y< 
 
 oome, bay wine and milk, without money and 
 without pric "Though your sins be as 
 
 .rh-t. t -hall 1 - white as sno' 
 
 thouirh they be red like crimson, they shall 
 be as wool." 1-. I : IS. 
 
 To whom are these gracious assurani 
 made, if not to you Would you wish to 
 find your own name in the Bible coupled with 
 the assurance that Jesus Christ is willing to 
 have com]' 1 on your soul : Such a 
 
 ion is certainly not required in your 
 . and millions have believed on the 
 
 idence that now i our- Because 
 
 I irist has ma :i atonement sufficient for 
 the whole world, and because he has freely 
 
 \ ho will ilvati 
 
 on his I he is willin include you in 
 
 that numl nd i 
 
 18* 
 
210 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 What reason have you for doubting the 
 willingness of Christ to have mercy on you ? 
 Has he made an exception of you in his offers 
 of salvation ? Has he said that he is willing 
 to save all, and is he not sincere ? Did he 
 not leave his father's bosom, and come down 
 to this world of sin and suffering, bear the 
 reproaches of his enemies, submit to cruel 
 mockings and scourgings and every indignity 
 that wicked men could inflict, and finally 
 suffer the shameful and painful death of cruci- 
 fixion, and all this for the sake of sinners, his 
 enemies ; and is he not willing now to do that 
 for which he gave his own life-blood ? But 
 no sinner ever had more reason to believe 
 that Christ was willing to save him than you 
 have. Every saint on earth, every saint in 
 heaven, believed with the same or less evi- 
 dence than is offered to you. It is impossible 
 for language to be more clear and compre- 
 hensive than the promises of Christ, and they 
 are as really and truly addressed to you, as to 
 any other sinner in the universe. Take the 
 promise in John 6 : 37, " Him that cometh 
 to me I will in no wise cast out.' 3 Whom 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 211 
 
 does that promise encourage, if not you? 
 
 Listen to the imitation that lie. on the 
 
 bst | <>r the Bible: Rev. 22: IT. "Let 
 him that i^ athirst, come; and whoboeveb 
 will, let him take the water of life freely.' 3 
 
 Who theo may come, if you may not ? Head 
 
 i i 1 1 the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, and 
 
 dwell on each verse, containing a distinct and 
 
 leious call to you : and a- you come to the 
 
 seventh verse, behold the fitness of the invi- 
 tation as addressed to you. a Prodigal from 
 
 your fuller's house, nek of sin. hut afraid to 
 come back and trust to a father's forgiving 
 lo\ Hear and admire the matchless mercy 
 
 that extends a promise so full and free: u Let 
 the wicked forsake his way, and the unright- 
 eous man his thoughts : and let him return 
 unto the Lord, and he will have men 1 }- upon 
 him ; and to our God, for he will abundantly 
 pardon." Are you not icickuL perhaps the 
 chief of sinner He came not to call the 
 
 righteous hut sinner< to repentance* He cam 
 
 to call you bcCOU* J on are so vile. 
 
 O wondrous lovt The Son of God conn 
 
 down and dies, to make atonement for the 
 
212 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED^ 
 
 sins of such a wretch as you ! his enemy, in 
 arms against him, and resolved to perish 
 rather than have him to reign. And, more 
 to be admired, when you have wickedly 
 resisted the offers of his love, and hardened 
 your heart against the Saviour, he has sent 
 down the Holy Spirit to subdue your stub- 
 born will, to convince you of sin, and lead 
 you to him whom you have deserted and 
 abused. Thus led to see and feel the de- 
 pravity of your heart, the wickedness of your 
 past life, and the perfect justice of that lav/ 
 under which you are condemned to an end- 
 less hell, you look anxiously around for some 
 way of deliverance from the doom you de- 
 serve. 
 
 " Behold the Lamb of God which taketh 
 away the sin of the world V 1 John 1 : 29. 
 Fix your mind on Christ, and learn distinctly 
 what you are to believe concerning him, to 
 secure the salvation of your perishing soul. 
 You must receive him as your Prophet, to 
 instruct you, as your Priest, to make atone- 
 ment for your sins, as your King, to rule 
 over you, now and for ever. Are you wil- 
 
THE PROMi.VL. RECLAIMED. 213 
 
 ling to come ami submit yourself entirely to 
 the Lord Jesus Christ; to consecrate your 
 
 il and your body, your time and substam 
 all that you have and are. unto him who 
 
 ve himself to die for you i Will you make 
 this surrender, not for the sake of being par- 
 doned and laved, but because it il your duty 
 to submit to God, whether you are saved or 
 not ? 
 
 If you are ready thus to cast yourself upon 
 the mercy of God. in Christ Jesus, the way 
 of salvation is perfectly plain. Like the 
 
 odering Prodigal in the parable, you ha 
 sinned agaimt God. and are not worthy to be 
 for 1. But if you feel sinc er el y sorry on 
 account of your sins, and believe that Christ 
 is able and willing to forgive you. the work 
 dot \ on may trust with all the confidence 
 
 of a child who conf his fault and c; 
 
 himself into his father's arms. This is faith; 
 a simple trust in the power and willingm 
 
 of the Father to foi _i\ • . for the sake of what 
 Christ the Son has don 
 
 In tin- rapid \ of the Prodi return, 
 
 have* not observed with sufficient distinct- 
 
214 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED, 
 
 ness, the fact, that while he was yet a great 
 way off the father saw him and had compas- 
 sion on him. If you have truly repented of 
 your wanderings , and have found the w r ay 
 back to him from whom you strayed, you are 
 ready to admit, nay, more, you desire to con- 
 fess, that if God had not led you to see and 
 feel your guilt and danger, you would never 
 have been brought to his feet. " God com- 
 mendeth his love toward us, in that while we 
 were yet sinners Christ died for us." Rom. 
 5:8. In you there was nothing to win the 
 favor of heaven, or make it likely that you 
 would ever be forgiven. You hated God 
 more and more the longer you lived away 
 from him, and would never have had a 
 thought of return, had not the boundless 
 mercy of that God whom you had so basely 
 deserted, extended the means of salvation. 
 It was the kind influence of his Spirit that 
 awakened you to a sense of your lost condi- 
 tion, and inspired you with a strong desire to 
 return. It was the same good Spirit that set 
 your sins in order before you, and impressed 
 your heart w T ith the conviction of your per- 
 
Tin: nOMGAL RECLAIMED. LB 
 
 :ul just d ; of eternal death ; 
 that <>\ ae your native love for sin, 
 you to loatl nd abhor it. to feel sorry on 
 count of it, ami to resolve to unce and 
 forsake it for ever, [l « is die Holj Spirit 
 that opened tli of your und< 
 
 to behold the beauty and fitness of the plan 
 to save, which the wisdom and goodness of 
 God have provided, and enabled you, by faith, 
 to tru<t in that plan. the only ground of 
 acceptance with tli I ither. Thus, led by 
 tin* Spirit to the Lord Jesus Christ, you are 
 prepared to say from the heart: 
 
 Here, Lord, am I, a poor -inner in the di 
 before thee! Having -ecu the evil nature 
 and the -awful consequences of sin. I come to 
 thee to be delivered from it- Thou 
 
 hast encouraged me. by the promises of thy 
 blessed word, to look unto thee and be saved. 
 And I know that thou art able and willing to 
 save the vilest sinners who come sorrow 
 for sin and trusting in thv m< I i no 
 
 other hop'- of obtaining fo . than that 
 
 which is built on the merits of Christ my 
 Redeemer. I can now see that what he has 
 
216 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 done and suffered may be accepted as a sat- 
 isfaction for a broken law, so that thou canst 
 be just while thou dost pardon the repenting 
 sinner. I have no righteousness of my own 
 to plead. My sorrow can make no amends 
 for my past transgressions. My promises of 
 future obedience are no reason why thou 
 shouldst have mercy on me. 
 
 u Should my tears for ever flow, 
 Should my zeal no languor know, 
 This for sin could not atone ; 
 Thou must save, and thou alone ! 
 In my hand no price I bring, 
 jSimply to thy cross I cling." 
 
 Relying on the atonement which Christ has 
 made, and desiring to be saved in no other 
 way, I commit myself into thy hands, O God, 
 my Father ! Take me, and do with me as 
 thou seest to be for thy glory. I consecrate 
 myself for ever to thy service, and trust for 
 acceptance in the merits of thy Son. 
 
 If this surrender is made sincerely, your 
 reception will be as joyful as was that of 
 the returning Prodigal. I have often read 
 
 
THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 217 
 
 with delight, the description of this scene in 
 the writings of Matthew Henry. In ik- 
 
 ; of th \ tend notio . when 
 
 wtelcoming his long lost son, he says: 
 
 Here were eyes of mercy. ' When he 
 
 ls yet a great way off I rem? him." 
 
 This intimates God's desire for the con on 
 of sinners, and his readiness to meet th< 
 that are coming toward him. 
 
 Here was a heart of mercy. " He had 
 compassion on him." Notwithstanding his 
 guilt and. especially, his vile ingratitude, the 
 father pitied him in his misery, and longed to 
 forgive. 
 
 Here were feet of mercy. -lie ran." 
 The Prodigal came slowly under a burden of 
 shame and fear; but the tender father ran to 
 meet him with words of encouragement. 
 
 Here were anns of mercy, and those out- 
 stretched to embrace and save. JI> ft II on 
 his neck." Though guilty and deserving to 
 be punished : though defiled, for he had just 
 come from feeding swi -o that anv one 
 who had not the strong and tender compas- 
 sion of a father, would have loathed to touch 
 19 
 
218 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 him, yet he thus takes him in his arms and 
 lays him in his bosom. So dear, are true 
 penitents, to God ; thus welcome to the 
 Lord Jesus. 
 
 Here are lips of mercy. " He Icissed him." 
 What tenderness of love ! This kiss not only 
 assured him of his welcome, but sealed his 
 pardon. It was the sweetest pledge of for- 
 giveness a reconciled father could bestow. 
 
 The prodigal son began his confession ; 
 " Father, I have sinned against heaven, and 
 in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be 
 called thy son.' 5 He was going on to say, 
 " Make me as one of thy hired servants." 
 But the father listens no longer to his confes- 
 sions : he commands the servants to bring 
 forth the best robe and put it on him who 
 came home in rags ; and a ring on his hand, 
 and shoes on his feet. 
 
 The sinner returning to God, is stripped 
 of his rags, and clothed with the robes of the 
 Saviour's righteousness. The ring on the 
 hand is a constant memorial of the father's 
 kindness, and the shoes on the feet are to 
 prepare him to go forward in his father's ser- 
 
THK rilODICAL RECLAIMED. 219 
 
 o. There areiich provisions mad*' for the 
 .liort of those who thun return* The uu- 
 - ■' calf is killed, that be who ctme home 
 hungry may not only be fad, l>ut feasted* 
 And if you have thus returned to God, you 
 will find the provisions of the gospel are a 
 perpetual feast to your soul. Christ himself, 
 is the bread of life ; his flesh is meat indeed, 
 
 and his hlood is drink indeed. He that eat- 
 eth of this bread shall live for ever. John 6: 
 48 — 58- B OOtmged, therefore, to come 
 near to Christ] and derive from him those 
 rich supplies of a race which you will need. 
 Live on him. Look to him with the confi- 
 dence of filial love, and you will find in him 
 a Father and Redeemer, a God and guide. 
 
 There w as joy over that young man's re- 
 turn. " Let U ud be merry." said the 
 glad father, "for this my son wtl dead, and 
 is alive again : he was lost and is found." 
 
 Have you repented of your -ins and tun. 
 unto the Lord, with full purpose of heart to 
 devote yourself to him during the remainder 
 of your da] 11 cast yourself on 
 
 the merits of Jesus Christ, renouncing all de- 
 
220 THE PRODIGAL RECLAIMED. 
 
 pendence on your own works, and trusting 
 entirely in the pardoning mercy of him who 
 has offered freely to forgive ? If so, there is 
 joy in heaven, this moment, among the angels 
 of God, over your return ! There is sympa- 
 thy in heaven felt for you. Angels wait to 
 bear the joyful news that you have come 
 back to God. The Holy Spirit hovers over 
 you, and gently moves you to come. The 
 Saviour, he who once hung on the cross of 
 Calvary and shed his blood for you, looks 
 down from his throne, in glory, and yearns 
 for your salvation. The Father who gave 
 his Son to die, and sent his Spirit to call you 
 to himself, is waiting to be gracious, to re- 
 ceive, to pardon and save. Repent now, 
 believe now, and joy will fill the breasts of 
 friends on earth, will thrill the spirits of the 
 just in heaven, will spread from saints to 
 angels through all the hosts above, while God 
 himself rejoices, saying, 
 
 " This my son was dead, and is alive again ; 
 He was lost and is found.' '