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THE LITERARY FOUJS'TAIJS'S HEALED 
 
 SERMON, 
 
 PREACHED 
 
 IN THE CHAPEL OF THE 
 
 COLLEGE OF NEW-JERSEY, 
 
 March 9th, 1823. 
 
 BY SAMUEL MILLER, D. D. 
 
 PHOFESSOB IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMISAHI AT PBIHCETOJT. 
 
 TRENTON: 
 PRINTED BY GEORGE SHERMAX. 
 
 1823. 
 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The circumstances which led to the preparation 
 and delivery of the following Discourse, were these. 
 A circular communication having been received, by an 
 individual in Princeton, from a distant and highly re- 
 spected Brother, announcing that a number of per- 
 sons, in different parts of the United States, had 
 agreed to set apart Thursday the 27th of February, 
 last, as a day of special Prayer and Fasting, for the 
 particular purpose of imploring a Revival of Religion 
 in the Colleges of our Country: — the Faculty and a 
 large number of the Students of Xassau-Hall, together 
 with the Professors and Students of the Theological 
 Seminary in Princeton, promptly resolved to unite in 
 the observance. The day was observed accordingly. 
 As a variety of considerations prevented the delivery 
 of an appropriate discourse at that time: and as the 
 author happened to be the first of the preachers stat- 
 edly ministering in the College-Chapel, who occupied 
 that pulpit, after the day alluded to: he deemed it 
 proper to embrace the opportunity afforded him, of 
 endeavouring to revive and deepen the impression 
 made by the preceding solemnities. Whether he did 
 right in complyiug with a request to print what he 
 delivered, the reader must judge. His prayer is. that 
 it may be useful. 
 
 Princetox, March 13 fh, 1823, 
 
THE LITERARY FOUJ^TAIJSTS HEALED: 
 
 A SERMON. 
 
 II. KINGS II. 21. 
 
 And he went forth unto the spring of the waters, and 
 cast the salt in there, and said, Thus saith the Lord, 
 I have healed these waters; there shall not be from^ 
 
 • thence any more death. 
 
 WHEN we see a spring of water rising from the 
 earth, and pouring along its gentle stream, we are apt 
 to regard it as a very unimportant object. And so, in- 
 deed, considered in itself, it often really is. But when 
 we see a fountain of this kind in the midst of a popu- 
 lous neighbourhood; when we see many families de- 
 pending upon it for their daily supply of an indispen- 
 sable article of life; when we find the young and the 
 old, the rich and the poor, constantly resorting to it, 
 to slake their thirst, and every hour bearing away its 
 waters for the use of their households; then such a 
 spring appears truly valuable; and, above all, if it 
 be the only one in the neighbourhood, we view it as 
 important; to a degree not easily overrated. 
 
6 
 
 What sliould we think, then, of a person so mali- 
 cious as to poison such a spring, or to counsel and aid 
 in poisoning it; and thus rendering it productive of 
 disease and death to a whole community — to all who 
 should partake of its waters? Surely he would act a 
 part, the baseness, the cruelty of which it would be 
 difficult to express ? Accordingly, all moral writers of 
 any name, have taught, that it is highly censurable, 
 even in an enemy, to make war on the lives of his ad- 
 versaries, by poisoning springs and fountains. They 
 pronounce it, at once, dishonourable and inhuman. 
 
 In the case of the Springs in or near the city of 
 Jericho, in Palestine, to which the words of our text 
 refer, there is, indeed, no reason to suppose that they 
 had been poisoned hy design; but they were poisoned 
 in fact; probably in consequence of that curse which 
 had rested upon the place from the time of Joshua, 
 near six hundred years before. Whatever might have 
 been the reason, however, their waters were bad; un- 
 wholesome; nay, destructive of health, and, as it would 
 seem, of life. And we find, as might have been ex- 
 pected, that this was considered by the inhabitants as 
 a great calamity: for the men of the city came to Elir 
 sJia, the prophet, lamenting the fact, and probably 
 hoping tliat they might engage him to attempt some- 
 tiling for their relief. There was an important Semi- 
 nary established m Jericho at this time; and some com- 
 
raentators have been of the opinion, that, although a 
 curse had been pronounced on the place a number of 
 centuries before, it was now mercifully removed, in 
 consequence of the favour and liberality which the 
 people had manifested toward that Seminary. How- 
 ever this may have been, certain it is that God was 
 pleased, by the prophet Elisha, to send relief from 
 this particular distress under which they laboured- 
 For when they came to the Prophet, and made known 
 their calamity, he said — ^^ Bring me a new cruise, and 
 put salt therein; and they brought it to him. And he 
 went forth unto the spring of the waters, and cast the 
 salt in there, and said, Thus saith the Lord, I have 
 healed these waters; there shall not he from thence any 
 more deathP 
 
 I purpose, to-day, my friends, to accommodate these 
 words to the metaphorical Fountains of our land 
 — I mean our Literary Institutions — particularly 
 our Colleges. 
 
 Some of you, no doubt, remember, that, a little more 
 than a week since, a particular day was, by agreement, 
 set apart, by a number of the friends of learning and 
 piety, in different parts of the United States, as a day 
 of special Prayer and Fasting, for the effusion of the 
 Holy Spirit, and the revival of Religion, in'our Col- 
 leges. A goodly number of persons in this place, at- 
 tended with seriousness, and I hope with sincerity^ to 
 
8 
 
 the appointment. 1 wish, now, to follow up that 
 
 observance with some remarks and exhortations, which 
 are intended to harmonize with it, and, by the bless- 
 ing of God, to promote the same great object. 
 
 My design is to shew — 
 
 I. That our Colleges may, with propriety, be 
 called the Fountains of our Country; the Foun- 
 tains whence all its best interests, under God, must 
 flow. And 
 
 II. That it is of the utmost importance that the 
 
 SALT OF GOOD PRINCIPLES BE CAST INTO THESE FOUN- 
 TAINS ; and that for this we ought all to labour and 
 pray without ceasing. 
 
 I. That the Colleges of our Country, may, with pro- 
 priety, be considered as its Fountains — the Foun- 
 tains OF its intellectual, social, and moral 
 character — is so obvious, that I hope formal proof 
 of it, especially before this audience, is not necessary. 
 But it may, perhaps, the better prepare the way for 
 what is to follow, if I spend a moment or two in en- 
 deavouring to illustrate this position. 
 
 And here, it will not, I presume, be denied, that 
 talents and learning generally bear sway in every com- 
 munity in which they exist; that strong minds will 
 always, directly or indirectly, govern the weak; and 
 
9 
 
 that knowledge, every where, is power. That this is, 
 universally, the stated course of liuman affairs, is too 
 plain to be doubted or proved. It is true, there are 
 communities in which we sometimes see the chief pow- 
 er in the hands of the weak and the ignorant. But this, 
 I take it, forms no exception to the general rule. For 
 the immediate depositaries of power, in such cases, are 
 almost always, the mere puppets of more able and 
 knowing men, who make them dupes and ministers to 
 their ambition, and often employ them to accomplish 
 that which they would be ashamed to perform them- 
 selves. So that, ^fter all, the strongest minds really 
 govern; and the best educated seldom fail to exert an 
 influence which is paramount and acknowledged. 
 
 Now, is it not evident, that the great majority of our 
 able and educated men, are the sons of our colleges; 
 and that from these institutions, of consequence, com- 
 monly arise those who bear sway in society ? Not that 
 I mean to intimate, that every graduate of a college is 
 destined, as a matter of course, to be a light and a 
 leader in the community. Far from it. Many a diplo- 
 maed blockhead, who never had the capacity to learn, 
 and who, of course, never could be taught, has gone 
 forth, as if only to evince how much time, and pains, 
 and money may be thrown away, in rendering one, 
 who would have been a dunce at all events, a more 
 conspicuous and contemptible dunce. And many more, 
 
 B 
 
10 
 
 to the credit of society be it spoken, who were by no 
 means deficient either in talents or acquirements, with 
 all their boasted collegiate honours, have been con- 
 signed by a discerning publick, on account of their 
 perverse tempers, or their gross vices, to lives of ne- 
 glect and obscurity: thus proclaiming the instructive 
 lesson, that mere genius or learning, even in their 
 highest degrees, will ensure the elevation of no man. 
 But my meaning is, that we are, in general, to look 
 among the Sons of our Universities and Colleges, for 
 those controulers of publick sentiment, and directors 
 of publick affairs, from which society must and will 
 receive its predominant character; and that the greater 
 the amount of their talents and learning, the greater, 
 ordinarily, will be the extent and the potency of their 
 influence, whether bad or good, in the community. 
 
 It is true, the celebrated M. Rousseau^ that singu- 
 lar votary of paradox and of scepticism, wished there 
 were no Colleges, as he thought them far more inju- 
 rious than useful, on the plan upon which they were 
 usually conducted. He also thought, that one of the 
 most important secrets of education was, " not to gain 
 time, but to lose it."* And, indeed, if education must 
 necessarily consist in inculcating the principles which 
 seem to have governed the life and the pen of that 
 anomalous man, and those of his school, then I should 
 
 * ^Emilius I. 9, 80, 128. H. 100. 
 
11 
 
 certainly agree with him, that the fewer such Colleges, 
 the better; and that the later the work of enlightening 
 the mind of a youth was begun, the happier for him- 
 self. But that the earlier enlightened Christian 
 EDUCATION is begun, the better, I have no doubt: and 
 that Colleges, as they actually exist in our Country, 
 with all the disadvantages under which the raostof them 
 labour, from their infancy and poverty, and also mak- 
 ing a large allowance for occasional mismanagement, 
 are, on the whole, a source of rich blessing to the na- 
 tion, I can doubt as little. They are sources from 
 which important benefits have been already, and are 
 daily, derived; and that incomparably greater benefits 
 will, under the Divine blessing, be derived from them 
 in future, it is deliglitful to anticipate. 
 
 Colleges are the Fountains from which Civil So- 
 ciety draws its most important supplies, and receives 
 the formation of its intellectual, social, and moral cha- 
 racter. Thence are sent forth, from year to year, those 
 Legislators, on whose wisdom, integrity and prudence, 
 the character of our laws must depend; those Judges 
 and Magistrates^ on whose knowledge and probity the 
 administration of publick justice must rest; those Law- 
 yers, to whom the rights and property of their fellow 
 citizens are, every day, necessarily committed, and 
 who have it continually in their power to influence, in 
 the most vital manner, the social and moral interests 
 
IS 
 
 of men; those PhysiciajiSj to whom we daily entrust 
 our health and lives, and who, by skill and upright- 
 ness, or by ignorance and profligacy, may become, to 
 an extent that no tongue can tell, the benefactors or 
 the scourges of those around them ; and, finally, those 
 Instructors of Youth, to whom we commit our beloved 
 offspring, and who are to impress upon the rising gen- 
 eration the principles and habits which may, perhaps, 
 characterize them through life, and even cleave to 
 them as long as they exist. 
 
 Again; Colleges are the Fountains from which the 
 Christian Church is commonly supplied with her 
 Ministry. There are, ordinarily, trained up those 
 Heralds of the Cross, on whose piety, orthodoxy, and 
 zeal, the salvation of millions may, under God, depend. 
 And, as long as the union of pietv and learning shall 
 be deemed necessary to prepare Ministers of the Gos- 
 pel for the proper discharge of the duties of their of- 
 fice, this must continue to be the case. How much, 
 then, in this respect, depends upon the character of 
 our seats of learning! On the one hand, if, on account 
 of the low state of religion in them, they either cannot 
 furnish an adecpiate number of candidates for the sa- 
 cred office, or send out such as will be a curse to the 
 church, instead of a blessing : if their supply should 
 be so scanty, as to leave the greater part of our popu- 
 lation " as sheep without shepherds^' or of so corrupt 
 
13 
 
 and corrupting a character as to be far worse than a 
 deficiency; in either case, the vital interests of the 
 church must deeply suffer. On the other hand, if our 
 Colleges be fountains of truth, virtue, sound learning, 
 and genuine piety, and be continually pouring out cor- 
 responding streams; they will " make glad the city of 
 our God;'^ and many a barren field, and many a deso- 
 late wilderness will be converted into a '^'^ garden of 
 the Loi'dy 
 
 Nor is it merely in reference to the character of her 
 Miiiistry, but in a variety of other ways, that the in- 
 fluence of our Colleges is daily extended to the Church 
 of Christ. The Church needs pious and well-informed 
 lay-members, as well as pious and learned pastors. 
 Nay, there are peculiar kinds of service, which none 
 can so well render to the cause of the Redeemer, as 
 enlightened and pious laymen. When, therefore, evan- 
 gelical principles and practice reign in our higher 
 Seminaries of learning; when the hearts of many in- 
 genuous youth, who might have been otherwise lost to 
 the community, are turned into the right channel, and 
 zealously devoted to the cause of truth and righteous- 
 ness; even if a number of them make choice of secular 
 professions, still they may all contribute,. and largely 
 contribute, to the advancement of that kingdom, in 
 which the pious of every name have an interest, and 
 which is destined, ultimately, to fill the world. 
 
14, 
 
 Now, lay all these things together. Recollect that 
 it has been computed, that there are, at least, three 
 THOUSAND YOUNG MEN Constantly in a course of edu- 
 cation in the Colleges in the United. States. Of these, 
 a fourth part, or between seven and eight hundred, 
 we may calculate, are annually sent forth into the com- 
 munity, decorated with the first Degree in the Arts, 
 and prepared to enter on their professional studies. 
 Suppose only half of these to possess talents and at- 
 tainments equal to the point of mediocrity, and what 
 a flood of active influence may we consider as poured 
 from these Fountains, every year, into the community! 
 Surely he must be under the controul of a singular 
 scepticism, who can doubt that the power, constantly 
 brought from this source, to bear upon all the great 
 interests of society, is incalculable and growing ! 
 
 We may well, indeed, wonder, my friends, that a 
 sovereign God is pleased to make poor worms of the 
 dust, in themselves so mean and unworthy, of so much 
 importance in society; instruments of accomplishing 
 so much good, or so much evil, among those around 
 them. With what a singular feeling does it impress 
 the mind, at first view, when we see a train of gowned 
 Youth attending in a Seminary of learning, to recol- 
 lect that THESE, and such as these, are, in a little 
 while, to have all the most. precious interests of soci- 
 ety in their hands; without any other pledge of wise 
 
15 
 
 management than their own principles and character; 
 — without any other controul than the holy Provi- 
 dence of God! But so it is! In these infinitely mo- 
 mentous and interesting circumstances, has God been 
 pleased to place every successive generation of the 
 Young. Your Maker, my young friends, has assigned 
 you, '^^«.? hireUngs,^^ your place, and your day. You 
 have entered on your career. That career is to be 
 productive of infinitely important consequences, not 
 only to yourselves, but to mankind. The period now 
 opening upon us, shall be of such character as You, 
 and those who are similarly situated with yourselves, 
 shall stamp upon it. Surely, then, the literary Insti- 
 tutions of our Country, may, with the utmost propri- 
 ety, be styled, emphatically, the Fountains of its life, 
 and order, and happiness. 
 
 From this consideration, it obviously follows — 
 
 II. That it is of the utmost importance that the 
 Salt of good principles be cast into these 
 Fountains; and that for this, we ought all to labour 
 and pray without ceasing. 
 
 The word Salt is frequently employed by the in- 
 spired writers to express purity , or rather that which 
 has a tendency to make and to keep pure, '* Ye are 
 the salt of the earth^^ said the Saviour to his disci- 
 ples — '^ hut if the salt have lost its savour, xvherewith 
 
16 
 
 fihall it he salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but 
 to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of menP 
 — Again; " Let your speech,^^ says the Apostle, ^^ be 
 always with grace, seasoned with salt, that it may min- 
 ister grace unto the hearersP And, accordingly, un- 
 der the ceremonial economy, it was directed, that ev- 
 ery offering to God should be ^' seasoned with salt;^^ 
 to intimate the necessity of their being oifered up with 
 sincerity and purity of mind; and as a token, also, of 
 unfeigned friendship, on the part of the offerer, to his 
 God; for it is well known that, among the ancients, 
 and especially among the Orientals, eating salt togeth- 
 er was considered as a pledge of friendship, which 
 must never, under any circumstances, be forfeited. 
 Hence we read of a ^^ covenant of saW — that is, a 
 covenant never to be broken or forgotten. 
 
 Now, that of which I wish to convince my hearers, 
 is, that it is of the utmost importance that the salt 
 
 OF SOUND MORAL AND RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES, in their 
 
 practical influence; — or, to express all in a word, — 
 THE SALT OF GENUINE PIETY, be cast iuto our Lite- 
 rary Fountains, as the only means of preserving them 
 from putrefaction, and making them sources of life, 
 health, and happiness to the community. 
 
 And here my friends, does it demand formal rea- 
 soning to shew, that he who drinks poison will proba- 
 bly be injured by itj that when a fountain is poisoned, 
 
17 
 
 those who resort fo it must sicken and die? Would 
 any of you advise a friendj unless, indeed, you wished 
 to destroy him, to drink at such a fountain? You 
 certainly would not, if you were in your right mind. 
 Equally plain is it, that, if the Literary Fountains, 
 whence are derived the great mass of the instructors 
 and guides of society, are poisoned, the mischief of 
 such a state of things to the community must he be- 
 yond all calculation ; that all patriots, as well as all 
 pious men, ought to regard such Institutions with grief 
 and abhorrence ; and that all who love human happi- 
 ness ought dady and fervently to pray that they may 
 be '' healedP 
 
 Picture to your imaginations, for a moment, a Col- 
 lege thus corrupt; thus abounding with moral poison. 
 Suppose the Instructors to be able, diligent and faith- 
 ful; the Laws to be excellent; and the endeavours to 
 execute them to be of the most vigilant and paternal 
 character. But suppose, amidst all this, a large num- 
 ber of the pupils to be, as far as they dare to be, li- 
 centious in principle, and profligate in practice. Sup- 
 pose them to be constantly contriving how far they 
 can go, in eluding the vigilance, and trampling on the 
 authority of tiieir Teachers. Suppose their midnight 
 orgies to be marked with profaneness, with blasphe- 
 my, with drunkenness, with gambling, and with every 
 species of immoral practice, to which they are pre- 
 
18 
 
 sented with an opportunity and «. temptation. In 
 short, suppose a large number of the members of the 
 Institution to be in the habit of regarding every act 
 of dissipation and profligacy in which they can in- 
 dulge, without falling under the lash of discipline, as 
 so much clear gain, and as indicating genius and spi- 
 rit. Suppose such habits to be prevalent in a Col- 
 lege — and, I will appeal to every hearer — nay, I will 
 confidently appeal to the gayest and most licentious 
 of you all — whether you would be willing — whether 
 in judgment and in conscience you could be willing to 
 send a tenderly beloved relative to such an Institu- 
 tion? No! I am confident you could not. The veriest 
 youth would be thought a demon, who should wish or 
 advise it. 
 
 Now, having distinctly imaged to your minds a 
 College of this character, place yourselves again, for 
 a moment, in the situation of some fond, anxious, and 
 virtuous ParentSf who were about to select a place of 
 education for a beloved and ingenuous son; — a son 
 trained up in the most regular habits, imbued with 
 excellent principles, and whom they regarded with 
 sanguine hope, as the comfort and stay of their old 
 age. They look round with anxiety — an anxiety 
 which none but a Parent's heart can know, on all the 
 Colleges v\ithin their reach or knowledge. In all, as 
 in every thing human, they see something which they 
 
19 
 
 regret; in all they find difficulties and objections. 
 They select, however, in evil hour, the Institution 
 which I have just described. With a trembling heart, 
 they send their son forward. He enters it, with fine 
 talents; with delicate and virtuous sentiments; abhor- 
 ring the wickedness, as well as the beastly and con- 
 temptible character of vice; and promising to be alj 
 that those who love him can reasonably desire. 
 
 See this promising and precious young man taking 
 his place in the Institution supposed, with raised ex- 
 pectations of what he is to find in a band of ingenuous 
 and honourable youth, and with many resolutions, that 
 he will strive to equal the best of them in all that is 
 praiseworthy. He casts an eye around him, with a 
 view to the selection of his particular associates. He 
 sees, perhaps, some, who appear, at first view, among 
 the most polished, amiable, and attractive of the whole 
 number; and he trusts to appearances and first im- 
 pressions. He sees not that they are ^^ ivhited se- 
 pulchres.''^ He sees not that, with all their high 
 pretensions to gentility and honourable feeling, they 
 can lie, and deceive, and cheat, and indulge, cov- 
 ertly, in the most degrading vices. He sees not, 
 that, after pledging their truth and honour to obey 
 every law, they are ready to break every one, with as 
 little hesitation or misgiving as the most 'abandoned 
 highw^ayman demands a purse: and yet, that, all 
 this notwithstanding, they expect to be regarded 
 
20 
 
 as ^•gentlemen," and young '^^men of honour,'^ and 
 are ready to pursue with the utmost vengeanccj 
 the slightest whisper of suspicion to the contrary. 
 This^ he sees not, at first. He is taken with their 
 plausible appearance and manners, and seeks their 
 society. Like the Harpies, in fabled story, they 
 fasten upon him, with greater voracity, but with less 
 of disgusting exteriour, than those obscene birds. 
 He becomes their captive ; secretly thinking, that he 
 shall gain from them, at any rate, a knowledge of the 
 world ; and that, if he find their deportment other- 
 wise than he could wish, it will be in his power to 
 withdraw from their society at any moment. He 
 frequents their company. He goes freely into their 
 apartments. Here they begin to disclose their true 
 character. Their language and habits at first shock 
 him : but in a little while he becomes familiar with 
 <f' both; — next a partaker in them ; — and, at length, as 
 
 corrupt and shameless as any of their number. 
 
 After a few months, perhaps, his Parents come to see 
 their beloved son, or he goes home to spend a vaca- 
 tion. — But, O how changed ! He is no longer the 
 pleasj/ut and docile youth, whom they lately dismis- 
 sed from their anxious and tender embrace. He no 
 longer meets them with the frank, fearless and affec- 
 tionate countenance which formerly marked all his 
 approaches. On the contrary, his downcast eye, liis 
 inflamed visage, his love of the intoxicating glass, his 
 impatience of controul, his readiness to ''make a mock 
 
21 
 
 at sin,^^ and perhaps his unbhishing profaneness and 
 profligacy — but too plainly inform them that the prin- 
 ciples of his education have fled, and that, without a 
 miracle, he is a lost youth ; lost to them, and lost to 
 his country. 
 
 Put yourselves, for a moment, my hearers, in the 
 place of the parents and friends of such a young man. 
 Suppose a beloved relative of your own to be thus 
 corrupted and ruined, at a Seat of Science, to which 
 he had been sent for his imprbvement. What would 
 be your feelings? What would you* think of the ten- 
 dency of such a College, as to its influence on the 
 community ? Above all, what would you think of 
 the demons in human shape who had been the im- 
 mediate authors of the mischief? Would you not 
 execrate and abhor them ? Would not your hearts be 
 torn with alternate emotions of anguish and indigna- 
 tion ? O, my young friends ! I must say, for one, that 
 I would not lie under the guilt and the infamy of hav- 
 ing thus destroyed an amiable, inexperienced, unof- 
 fending youth, for time and eternity ; and of having 
 inflicted wounds in the hearts of tender and virtuous 
 Parents, which no time can heal;— -I repeat — I would 
 not subject myself to the guilt, and the just execration 
 of such a diabolical achievement, for all the sinful 
 pleasures that the sons of sensuality have ever enjoy- 
 ed^ from the fall of man to the present hour. 
 
22 
 
 But, on tlie other hand, figure to yourselves a Col- 
 lege of a different character. Figure to your minds a 
 College* in which, besides all the advantages of able 
 Instructors, wise Laws, and a happy Administration ; 
 — the great body of the Students are sober, studious, 
 orderly, and disposed to treat with filial respect and 
 affection, those who are set over them, and who are 
 daily labouring and toiling to promote their benefit. 
 Suppose regularity, diligence, laudable emulation in 
 study, correct morals, and a cordial reverence for the 
 religion of Jesus Christ to pervade the house. Sup- 
 pose, now, among- the many who resort to such a seat 
 of learning (for many would resort to it) there are 
 numbers of young men from families habitually heath- 
 enish and profane ; from families in which no Bible 
 was ever read ; no Sabbath ever observed ; no fear of 
 God ever inculcated or known : — where all that they 
 had ever been taught, on the subject of Religion, was. 
 to laugh at it, as superstition ; and where sensual 
 pleasure was pursued as the chief good. In accor- 
 dance with their training, I will suppose the char- 
 acter of these youth to be, when they enter this 
 virtuous, healthful and happy Society. — Before they 
 are aware, they catch its spirit. They perceive, 
 without reasoning, the folly of their former course, 
 and the wisdom of that whicli they now see daily 
 exemplified. They gradually imbibe the correct sen- 
 timents, and fall in with the laudable habits which 
 
23 
 
 surround them. They become sober-minded, regular, 
 serious, and, eventually, pious; and go forth into the 
 world, prepared to act their part in life, in a manner 
 worthy of rational and immortal beings; prepared to 
 be the delight of their relatives, and to adorn every 
 wfilk of social, domestick, civil, and professional life 
 to which they may be called. 
 
 And is this a small blessing? In the case before 
 supposed, we saw gold turned into dross; but in 
 that now before us, we hail a more happy transforma- 
 tion. We "see dross turned into gold. And is this, 
 I ask again, a small blessing? Is a College, the state 
 of which is adapted to multiply examples op this 
 KIND, a small benefit to the community? Once more I 
 appeal to the ingenuous feelings of the most unthink- 
 ing youth present. — Does not your heart spontane- 
 ously answer — " Let the lot of me and mine be cast 
 in such a Seminary!'' 
 
 Imagine not, my friends, that the pictures which I 
 have drawn, are mere fanciful representations. I 
 can assure you that — to my knowledge — they have 
 both been realities, and that within these walls, 
 at different periods of our history. God, of his infinite 
 mercy, grant that, in time to come, the fav.ourable side 
 of the picture may alone be realized, in the experience 
 of our beloved College! 
 
24 
 
 But what is that Salt which we ought to wish and 
 pray might be cast into these Fountains? What is that 
 life-giving and healthful influence, which is adapted 
 to render seminaries of learning a real blessing to so- 
 ciety? I repeat, what was before suggested — it is 
 
 SOUND MORAL AND CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE; it is RE- 
 LIGION — GENUINE, PRACTICAL Rkligion. In Other 
 words, it is the Holy Spirit of God, poured out upon 
 the students; — inspiring them with wisdom; control- 
 ing their passions; purifying their hearts and lives; 
 working in them the fear and the love of God; and 
 disposing them, in their studies, and in all- their in- 
 tercourse, to make his will the sovereign guide of 
 their conduct, and his glory the great end of their 
 
 pursuits. Nothing less than this, rely on it, my 
 
 friends, will answer the purpose. We may speculate 
 and philosophize as we please about other remedies 
 for the corrupt tendencies of human nature; but they 
 will all be in vain. The '^strong man armed,^^ can 
 never be cast out, until One stronger than he comes 
 and takes up his abode in the soul. Nothing less than 
 the Religion of Jesus Christ, cordially embraced, and 
 practically obeyed, is of sufficient potency to make 
 such a society as this, what it ought to be, — a scene 
 of order, purity, diligence, harmony, and high-mind- 
 ed, fraternal emulation. We may tell young men, 
 every day that we live, of the wisdom and happiness 
 of virtue. We may prove to them, with all the force 
 
25 
 
 of demonstration, and with all the impressiveness of 
 the most perfect eloquence, that the path of tem- 
 perance, industry and undeviating regularity, is, in 
 every respect, the wisest course. We may assure 
 them, that it is as much their happiness and their 
 honour, as it is their duty, to be all that their instructors 
 ought to require or wish. We may tell them all this. 
 And they will fully believe us. They know that it is 
 so. Their judgments and their consciences are deci- 
 sively in favour of all that we say. But, ah! the heart 
 is not gained. When, therefore, passion pleads; when 
 the syren voice of pleasure calls — away they hasten, 
 ^* as an ox goeth to the slaughter.'''' The monitions of 
 conscience are either not heard at all, or, if heard, 
 speedily drowned in the overflowing tide of youthful 
 feeling. Alas! how many young men, whose sober 
 convictions, when consulted, are strongly on the side 
 of virtue, have, notwithstanding, from the mere influ- 
 ence of appetite and passion, plunged irretrievably 
 into opposite courses, and destroyed themselves, soul 
 and body, for ever? 
 
 We are all, by nature, dreadfully depraved, my 
 young friends. This depravity reigns in the heart as 
 well as in the life. The remedy must, of course, be 
 commensurate with the disease. And I know of no 
 such remedy, but the grace of that God who made the 
 heart, and who alone can turn it *•' as the rivers ofxva- 
 
36 
 
 fers are turnedP Not that I am disposed to deny, that 
 there are some young persons, as well as some in more 
 advanced life, who are sober and blameless in their 
 lives, although they have no genuine piety. There 
 are^ doubtless, such cases. But they are comparative- 
 ly few; and when they do occur, it is commonly either 
 from peculiar physical temperament: or from the re- 
 s.training influence of early education; or from such a 
 predominant thirst after knowledge, or worldly ag- 
 grandizement, as triumphs over every other propen- 
 sity. And, even in such cases, we have no security 
 that this sober and exemplary course will last. Some 
 unexpected change of circumstances, or some new 
 temptation, may draw aside the most regular to their 
 final ruin. There is no security — I say again — to any 
 one, young or old, but in Religion. We are all navi- 
 gating the ocean of life. None of us can tell what 
 storms and tempests may fall upon our frail bark, the 
 next hour. " Pure religion and undefiled^''^ in its gov- 
 erning ^ind consoling power, is the only effectual '^an- 
 chor oftlie soidP That can and will hold us, even in 
 mid-ocean. But, without it, we are liable, at every 
 age, and especially in the morning of life, when pas- 
 sion and appetite are strong, and experience small; — 
 liable^ every moment, to be dashed upon the rocks, or 
 swallowed up in tlie merciless waves. 
 
 But, even if tolerably decent and sober characters 
 could be formed, and formed every day, without the 
 
27 . 
 
 aid of Religion; yet, after all, of what real value arc 
 they, in most cases, to society? Suppose our Col- 
 leges could contrive to manufacture, and to send out, 
 every year, swarms of such men as Hobbes, and Shafts- 
 bury, and BoUngbroke, and Hume, and Voltaire, and 
 Rousseau, and Buffoti, and Byron; — what benefit 
 would they confer on the community? Allowing them 
 as much decorum of moral character as their most 
 partial friends can ask, (although, in this respect, the 
 claims of some of them are far from being undoubted) 
 and passing also entirely, for the present, the pestife- 
 rous influence of their opinions on thousands;— what 
 benefits, I ask, did they ever confer on mankind? Did 
 their cold-blooded, miserable selfishness ever contrive 
 or execute a plan for promoting human happiness; for 
 alleviating the sufferings, or elevating the character of 
 their species? Was it ever heard, that any of them 
 made any important sacrifice for the benefit of others? 
 Never! What would society be, if it were entirely 
 made up of such men? Men who seemed to think that 
 they did enough, when they gratified their own appe- 
 tites, sought supremely their own glory, and satirized 
 and despised all the rest of mankind. One Boyle, or 
 Howard, or Edwards, or Thornton, or More,^ is 
 
 * The author hopes that no one will consider him as here referring to a 
 living Poet, who certainly has no claim to a place in any list of moral or 
 useful writers ; and who will probably be Torgotten, or remembered only to 
 be execrated, by the wise and good of the next generation. It is hardly 
 necessary to add, that the reference is to Mrs. ^I4K^AH More, one of the 
 
38 
 
 worth myriads of such philosophical unbelievers, who 
 ]iterr>lly " lived to themselves ;''^ and who, if they were 
 ever betrayed into a beneficent action, seemed rather 
 to have been led to it by that animal sympathy, which 
 prompts many of the brutal tribes to help their kind, 
 than by any real principle of love to their fellow men. 
 And, accordingly, look over the world, in every age, 
 and see whether even a decent proportion of the great 
 plans and exertions in behalf of human happiness, have 
 been achieved by infidels, or by those systematic ne- 
 glecters of all religion, who are little, if any, better 
 than infidels? Have not the great mass of them, in all 
 christian countries, IJeen the work of the friends of re- 
 ligion, who were either really pious, or had a tone of 
 thinking, of acting, and of general character, produced 
 by habitual reverence for the Gospel of Christ? 
 
 Nor is the moral influence of Religion, the only 
 consideration which renders its presence and power 
 so important in Seminaries of learning; although it 
 must be acknowledged that this is its most direct and 
 precious influence. It accomplishes much for man, 
 also, as an intellectual being. It enlarges and 
 strengthens the mind ; imparts to it a new and benign 
 
 most illusliious ornaments of her nation and age ; who is entitled to a 
 place among the most eminently tjsefci., — I will not say, of female wri- 
 ters, — but of any writers now living ; and whose life has been as happily 
 adajjted as her writings, to do good, and to recommend the Religion which 
 she professed. 
 
29 
 
 impulse; fixes the thoughts: begets habits of close atten- 
 tion, and sober reflection; leads the individual who is un- 
 der its influence to turn his views inward; to converse 
 with himself; to examine his own exercises, and, in 
 short, to subject to a more regular discipline than be- 
 fore, all his mental powers. How incalculably impor- 
 tant is this influence to the mind of man at any period 
 of his course! But, especially, how important at that 
 period, and in those situations, in which the intellect- 
 ual faculties are evolving, and receiving that culture 
 and direction, and forming those habits, which are 
 likely to reach through life! I will venture to say, 
 that, wherever real religion exists in its purity and 
 power, the mind of its possessor is more enlarged, 
 more vigorous, and better disciplined, than it could 
 possibly have been, without this precious gift of God. 
 And, if there be any truth in this assertion, then it is 
 plain, that he who should propose to conduct a band 
 of Youth through a course of liberal education, with- 
 out the aid of religion, would neglect one of the most 
 potent and precious auxiliaries to which he could re- 
 sort, even putting entirely out of view its power as a 
 principle of sauctification, and its essential connexion 
 with everlasting happiness. 
 
 If any of my youthful hearers still imagine that I 
 make more of the importance of Religion in Colleges, 
 
 — as the ONE THIXG NEEDFUL aS THE GRAND REGU- 
 
30 
 
 LATOR, iiARMONizER, and PURIFIER of academical 
 society, — for wliich nothing else can serve as an ade- 
 quate substitute; — I say, if any of my young hearers 
 are still disposed to think, that I lay more stress upon 
 it than I ought; let me entreat them to bring the mat- 
 ter to the test of experiment. Let those who are not 
 under the power of religious principle, shew that some 
 other influence is capable of producing the same ef- 
 fects. Let them shew, in any College whatever, that 
 there is an equal amount of blameless submission to 
 law, of diligence in study, of social inoffensiveness and 
 order, and of unimpeachable attention to every pre- 
 scribed duty, among a given number of the neglecters 
 of all religion, as among a corresponding number of its 
 cordial friends. But if this will not be attempted, as I 
 confidently believe it will not, the inference is irresist- 
 ible, that the influence of genuine Religion, on Lite- 
 rary Institutions, is, in every respect, incalculably 
 beneficial to its immediate subjects, and to society. 
 
 If any rational man, then, wishes to see our Col- 
 leges so many salubrious Fountains, sending out pure 
 and fertilizing streams, to enrich and '■'■ make glad the 
 city of our God:'^ — If he really wishes to see them 
 nurseries of genuine virtue, as well as of sound learn- 
 ing: — If he desires to see them annually sending forth 
 bands of well-trained vouth, fitted to adorn and bless 
 their country, in all the walks of publick and private 
 
31 
 
 life; — let him pray, that the '^ saW^ of divine grace 
 may be plentifully cast into them. Let him pray, that 
 the Holy Spirit may be poured out, from year to year, 
 upon them. If he be a Christian, I am sure he will 
 pray thus. But, even if he be not a Christian, still he 
 ought to pray thus; for, as you have seen, the true 
 prosperity and liappiness of our country, are as es- 
 sentially involved in it as those of the Church of God. 
 It as much becomes the patriot as the saint to cry 
 without ceasing, in reference to these Institutions, — 
 '' O Lord, revive thy work; in the midst of the years 
 make knoivn; in xvrath remember mercy P^ 
 
 1. The first application of this subject will be natu- 
 rally addressed to the respected and beloved Students 
 OF THE College in which we are now assembled. 
 
 My young friends, your parents and guardians have 
 sent you to this place, for acquiring that education, and 
 those literary honours, which it is the prerogative of a 
 College to bestow. They have incurred, and are daily 
 incurring, great expense for your sakes; and often, no 
 doubt, deny themselves comforts, that you may enjoy 
 them. Toward these walls, their eyes and their hearts 
 are often directed, with the tenderest solicitude; and 
 each of them, perhaps, hopes, that every returning 
 visitant to Princeton, will bring back with him some 
 gratifying intelligence concerning his beloved son. — 
 You often wonder, it may be, why your parents are so 
 
3^ 
 
 anxious, and why they express their anxiety so fre- 
 quently and strongly. Ah! my young friends, they 
 know more than you do. If some of them know less 
 of literature and of science than you can boast, they 
 know far more of life; more of the dangers to which 
 you are exposed; more of the infinite importance of 
 the principles you now imbibe, and the habits you 
 now form, than you can possibly know. You are 
 probably looking upon the period of your collegiate 
 course, as a fairy scene, which will, beyond a doubt, 
 shine brightly to the end, and which can hardly fail 
 of being introductory to a brighter and happier one. 
 But their greater experience compels them to look 
 upon it with a more serious and distrustful eye. They 
 have seen the brilliant rise, and the ignominious fall, 
 of many a splendid youth. They know that your pre- 
 sent couESE may give a colouring, and a character, to 
 all your future prospects. They remember, that, upon 
 your conduct and your acquirements here, it may 
 depend, whether you are to comfort them, or to plant 
 daggers in their hearts; whether you are to be bless- 
 ings or curses to society. Can you wonder, then, that 
 they are anxious? Can you wonder that they pass 
 many a sleepless night in solicitude and prayer for 
 you? Truly they have reason enough to be anxious. 
 Alas! the only wonder is, that, in these circumstances^ 
 you can pass an hour without being deeply anxious for 
 yourselves ! 
 
33 
 
 But vonr parents, and other near relatives, my 
 young friends, are by no means the only persons who 
 feel a tender interest in your welfare. If the repre- 
 sentation made in the former part of this discourse be 
 correct, then we, all of us, — nay, not only all of us 
 who are here present, but the whole coMMtJNiTY, 
 have an interest in your talents, your attainments, 
 and your character, of the deepest kind. You see, 
 then, the reason why you are the objects of so much 
 solicitude, and of so many prayers. You see the rea- 
 son why your faithful Instructors cease not to urge 
 upon you an immediate choice of the Saviour and his 
 service: why we, who occupy this pulpit from sab- 
 bath to sabbath, join with equal earnestness in the 
 same entreaty: nay, why the pious, in every part of 
 the United States^ think it their duty to unite in spe- 
 cial prayer to God, that he would visit and bless you 
 with his grace. Can you, after what you have heard, 
 wonder at this? Surely you cannot! When we see so 
 much of the comfort, and of all the most precious in- 
 terests, of your families, of society, and of tl.»e Church 
 of God, depending upon the course you take, and the 
 characters you form, can we avoid the most anxious 
 feelings respecting you? If we love our Country; if 
 we love the Church which the Redeemer has pur- 
 chased with his own blood; if we love our_God; nay, 
 if we love ourselves, can we ever approach the throne 
 of grace, without remembering You, — I had almost 
 
34 
 
 said, whatever else we forget? If, in these circum- 
 stances, we could cease to feel, or cease to plead, we 
 should, indeed, be more than brutally obdurate. 
 
 You will also readily perceive, my young friends, 
 from what has been said, the reason why those who 
 love the welfare of society, are always desirous of see- 
 ing our Colleges purged of every unwholesome mem- 
 ber. Many of you, perhaps, are sometimes ready to 
 take narrow views of this subject. You are often rea- 
 dy, it may be, to wonder, why there should be so 
 much anxiety manifested to exclude from a Seminary 
 like this, even a small number of students, who are 
 known to be vile and profligate in their habits. It 
 seems a very inconsiderable thing, at first view, that 
 there should be only five or six young men of this cha- 
 racter, found amidst an overwhelming majority of se- 
 ven or eight score, who are entirely, or at least gene- 
 rally, regular in their deportment. You imagine that 
 no evil can possibly result from allowing a few corrupt 
 members to remain in a community, the great mass 
 of which is comparatively pure. But we, my young 
 friends, who have somewhat more experience than 
 you can have, see this fact in a very different light. 
 We behold it with heartfelt grief, as an evil of appal- 
 ling magnitude. We not only see the besotted, in- 
 fatuated beings belonging to such a group, destroying 
 themselves, and bringing down the gray hairs of their 
 
35 
 
 parents with sorrow to the grave ; but we see much 
 more: — we see them to be so much poison — concen- 
 trated, virulent poison, in a publick Fountain, to 
 which many others are daily coming to drink; and at 
 which all who come, will be in imminent danger of 
 finding death, rather than aliment and life. You for- 
 get that half a dozen corrupt, licentious youth, who 
 are so disposed, may make this house a ^^ little hell,'' 
 as disgusting as it is dangerous to all others who sh;dl 
 enter it.* It would be really less distressing to know 
 that the same number of robbers or banditti were ly- 
 ing in wait around our village: — for they could only 
 kill the bodies, or take away the property of the in- 
 habitants. But in the polluted atmosphere, by tbe di- 
 abolical touchj of such profligates as I have supposed, 
 the IMMORTAL SPIRITS of ppccious youth DIE, and die 
 for ever! Would not the guardians of such an Insti- 
 tion, then; — I appeal to your calm and deliberate 
 judgment; — would they not be l»ighly criminal; nay, 
 would they not be accessory to the most deplorable of 
 all MURDER, if they knowingly and willingly allowed 
 
 * Distant readers, may, perhaps, draw the conclusion, fi-om this para- 
 graph, and several others, in the course of the sermon, tliat the author con- 
 siders the College of J\'exu-Jersey as peculiarly corrupt Tliis is by no means 
 his impression. On the contrary, he verily believes it will bear, as to m -ral 
 ord r, a very honourable comparison with the very best of those Col!eg-es 
 in the United •States with which he is acquainted. But he is not satisfied 
 with tliis. He wishes for far more. He wishes to see it as pre-eminent ui 
 this fespect, as its venerable Guardians desire and pray t!\at it may be- 
 come. 
 
36 
 
 even one such corrupt member to remain, at the risk 
 of contaminating the whole body placed under theircon- 
 troul? When such a polluting individual is excluded 
 from the College, those who see only a part of the evil 
 done or threatened, and who feel no immediate re- 
 sponsibility, sometimes imagine that the case is a hard 
 one, and suffer the risings of compassion to blind their 
 judgment. But if they only saw the measure in all its 
 relations, they would see it to be as really wise, and 
 even kind, as the amputation of a mortified limb, to 
 save the life of a patient; they would rejoice in the 
 enlightened, parental benevolence which dictated the 
 painful discipline. 
 
 I wish it were in my power,- my young friends, to 
 impart to you such views of this subject, as 1 am sure 
 an enlightened knowledge of facts could not fail to 
 give. — Take up a College Catalogue. O it is a 
 most instructive book! It affords a lively comment on 
 all that I have told you. — Take it up, and look, first, 
 at the melancholy mark of death which stands op- 
 posite the names of many who have occupied these 
 seats wilhin tlie last twenty, or even ten years. Ah! 
 liow^ many of the number does this mark tell us are 
 gone! And some of them — if I have not been misin- 
 formed — some whom I, and others have often solemnly 
 warned, — died miserably; lamenting their folly; with- 
 out hope ; and, apparently, with all the remorse and 
 
37 
 
 horror of anticipated damnation! — Young man! are 
 you willing so to die? I know you are not. — Then fly 
 from that course which terminated thus ! — Look again! 
 Compare the names in the Catalogue with the charac- 
 ters of those of the Sons of A''assau-Hallj who have oc- 
 cupied, or now occupy, the highest standing in socie- 
 ty; and say whether they are not, generally, those 
 who, while here, were sober, orderly, studious, and 
 great respecters of religion, if not pious? I say, in- 
 quire whether they were not generally such while 
 here. Is the fact as I have stated? And does it not 
 speak volumes? Will you not listen to it, beloved 
 youth! while you may profit by its monitions; before 
 ^^ the things which belong to your peace are for eiwr 
 hidden from your eyes?^^ 
 
 Do you ask me, what is the bfst, and only certain 
 guarantee, that you will escape the evils into which 
 many of your predecessors have fallen; and obtain the 
 blessings which have been conferred upon others, of a 
 
 more happy character? 1 have already told you. — 
 
 It is Religion — Genuine religion. Not the narrow 
 peculiarities of a sect; — these, you will do me and 
 others the justice to say, you have never heard incul- 
 cated from this pulpit; — but that vital, practical pie- 
 ty, which is common to all the sincere disciples of 
 Christj of every name; which purifies, as I have said, 
 both the heart and the life ; which is the only complete 
 
38 
 
 finish of human character; and which adorns and sanc- 
 tifies every accomplishment. It is this which those 
 who pray for a revival of religion in our Colleges, su- 
 premely desire to see every where living and reigning. 
 It is THIS, which, so far as it reigns, will ever be found 
 to form diligent students, good scholars, young men of 
 REAL TRUTH AND HONOUR, emulous of cvcry virtuc, 
 and fitted to be the delight of all the wise and good 
 who know them. It is this, in short, which will alone 
 eflectually lead to that general docility, that modera- 
 tion in pleasure and expense,* that filial respect to 
 superiors, and that studious inoffensiveness and benev- 
 olence towards all, without which Colleges can never 
 be either tranquil or happy in themselves, or regarded 
 with approbation by any enlightened friend of society. 
 
 * It ought to be known to parents and guardians, tliat the necessary 
 EXPENSES, at Princeton, as well as at most of the other Colleges in the Uni- 
 ted States, ai'c miicii more moderate than the extravagant habi's of some 
 students would lead them to suppose Tlie College biils, properly so call- 
 ed, may all b^- completely satisfied by about §200 per attnum. A reasona- 
 ble sum for clothing, and other incidental expenses, may easily he esti- 
 mated : and all that is allowed to inexperienced youth beyond this, is so 
 far from being necessary or proper, tbat it is absolutely a bribe to licen- 
 tiousness, and seldom f lils of producing that effect. The instances in which 
 excessive ^up /lies of m ney have injured students at College, are as nu- 
 merous as they are meluicholy. The young man who has much money to 
 spend, must have objects on whicii to spend it These will not long con- 
 tic. ue to be innocent. They will first lead to relaxation from study, next to 
 idleness, then to degradation in his class, soon to habitual dissipation, and 
 finally to open profligacy, and, perhaps, to ignominious expulsion. Such is 
 the issue of n;uch of that which is called parental tenderness, but which 
 wouM he much more suitably denominated parental infatuation, or rather 
 parental cruelty. 
 
39 
 
 Sons of Nassau-Hall! arise in the majesty of 
 youthful virtue and piety, and resolve, — in the strength 
 of Him who alone can enable you to fulfil your resolu- 
 tion, — that this Seat of science, so far as depends on 
 you^ shall, from this hour, be a seat of order, diligence, 
 virtue, and genuine religion. Resolve, that in literary 
 enterpnze, in sound learning, and in every thing that 
 is fitted to complete the character of scholars and 
 christians, it shall, as far as in you lies, by the Divine 
 blessing, stand pre-eminent among the Colleges of the 
 United States. For this purpose, let each one resolve 
 for himself, that, whatever others may do, as for him, 
 he will make choice of a reconciled God and Father in 
 Christ as his portion. Pray, every day that you live, 
 for a Revival of Religion among you. Those of you 
 who are professors of religion, will not wonder that I 
 call upon them to pray for a revival. But I do not 
 call upon them only. I call upon every one of you to 
 pray for it. Pray, thoughtless young man! that the 
 blessing may come to you, as well as to others. Pray 
 that it may spread in every direction, and fill the 
 house. If you love yourselves, pray for it. If you 
 love your Country, pray for it. If you love your Al^ 
 ma Mater, pray for it. If you love the Church of 
 God, I know you will pray for it. Believe me, you 
 cannot ask for a richer blessing; for it brings all other 
 real blessings in its train. When this blessing is real- 
 ized, then may it be emphatically said, by the Spirit 
 
40 
 
 of God, ^' Behold, I have healed tJiese waters! there 
 shall not he from thence any more death P^ 
 
 2. But the subject on which we have been meditat- 
 ing, applies also to those of my audience, who are not 
 imiiiediately connected with the College. It reminds 
 them that they all have an interest in it, an interest 
 of the deepest and most serious kind: and it calls upon 
 them to pray, without ceasing, for a revival of reli- 
 gion in this Seat of learning, and in the Colleges 
 generally of our beloved country. Yes, my friends, 
 while too many, who ought to know and to act better, 
 are deliberately lending themselves to the unhallowed 
 work of endeavouring to corrupt these youth : while 
 too many are ministering to their vices; leading them 
 into temptation; taking the advantage of their rash- 
 ness and inexperience; and giving them facilities for 
 involving their parents in heavy debts, as unjust in 
 themselves, as they are often fatally injurious to those 
 who are thus aided in contracting them : — while many, 
 I say, are acting a part, in these respects, which ought 
 to expel them from all decent society, and consign them 
 to the execrated ranks of panders and pick-pockets;* 
 
 * It is to be hoped that some of those who are chargeable with the con- 
 duct here referred to, have never considered its real nature and tendency. 
 If tlicy could tuke the slightest g-lance at the dreadful, and often irrepaia- 
 blc injury, >\ liicli is frequently inflicted on youth by the means which they 
 furnisli, under the pretext of kindness, and accommodation; and if they 
 could imi)urtially ask themselves, whether they would be willing tliat oth- 
 
41 
 
 let it be our constant endeavour, by an edifying exam- 
 ple, and by our daily prayers, to excite them to that 
 which is good, and to draw down blessings upon them. 
 
 Many of these youth, probably, never pray for 
 themselves; never ask the God that made them to be 
 their Guide and Protector! — Let us, my christian 
 friends, pray for them. Let us pray, without ceasing, 
 that the '^ Salt" of divine grace may be cast, speedily 
 and abundantly, into this Fountain; that every youth 
 here present may be preserved unhurt amidst the 
 snares and dangers which surround him, and inspired 
 with that wisdom which cometh down from above; 
 that the renewing and sanctifying grace of God, may 
 take possession of every heart within these walls; that 
 a College so early consecrated by the faith and pray- 
 ers of its pious Founders, and so happily adorned by 
 a long line of illustrious Presidents, may be made 
 more and more to promote the great purposes for 
 which it was instituted; and that, from this day, a 
 Spirit may be poured out upon it, which will render 
 it more than ever distinguished for the happy union 
 of piety and science; more than ever the chosen resort 
 of those virtuous and high-minded youth, who aspire 
 to the honour of being real ornaments to their genera- 
 tion, and to the Church of God. 
 
 ei's shouM treat their chii-dren in the same manner; — they would surely 
 recede with horror from t'leir present course, if they possessed the least 
 remnant of moral principle. 
 
 F 
 
43 
 
 Blessed era! May the God of all grace speedily 
 realize it to our prayers, and our hopes! Blessed, in- 
 deed, would such a day be, not merely to the College 
 itself, but to our Town; to our State; to our Nation ! — 
 Let us all, then, — I say once more, — unceasingly and 
 importunately pray for it. Let no delay of the bless- 
 ing, no difficulty which appears to stand in the way of 
 its vouchsafement, discourage our importunity. The 
 pride, the waywardness, the frivolity, the sensuality 
 of youth, shall all give way, when the enlightening 
 and sanctifying Spirit of God shall be ^^ poured out 
 from on highP Who can tell but that our eyes may 
 yet be blessed with this glorious sight? Who can tell 
 but that our covenant God, in answer to the prayers 
 of his people, may condescend speedily to '^ open the 
 windows of heaven, and pour out a blessing upon uSf 
 until there shall not be roo?n ejiough to receive itP^^ 
 Amen! 
 
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