t 
II  --,T- ~T7SO 
i ~ ~    ~    f 
11'~ ~ ~~~~<  
PiLEASANT PATHWAYS;
'ERSUASIVES TO EARLY PIETY:
EXPLANATIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE BEAUTY, SAFETY,
AND PLEASANTNESS OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE:
AN EARNEST ATTEMPT TO PERSUADE YOUNG PEOPLE OF BOIH SEXES TO SEEK
HAPPINESS IN THE LOVE AND SERVIOE OF JESUS CHRIST.
BY DANIEL WISE,
$JOR  OF "THE PATH OF LIFE," "YOUNG MAN'S COUNSELOR," ETC., ETC.
* [er ways are ways of pleasantness; and all her paths are peace."
NINTH THOUSAND.
Nem' ork:
PABLISHED BY CARLTON & PORTER,
20o MULBERRY-STEEBT.
I
OB,
CONTAINING 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859,
BY CARLTON & PORT1ER,
in the (Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern
District of New York. 
TO THE
YOUNG PEOPLE OF AMERICA GENERALLY,
BUT PARTICULARLY TO THOSE WHOSE EARLY YEARS HAVE BEEN BLESSED
WITH THE PIOUS INSTRUCTIONS OF A GODLY HOME AND
OF A CHRISTIAN SUNDAY SCHOOL,
THIS WORK
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THEIR SINCERE FRIEND AND
WELL-WISHEIR,
DANIEL WISE.
I strip ti #I. 
4 
Le," 
P RE F ACE.
THERE  are many  excellent books in the world,
written for the purpose of leading young people into
the way of peace. They all have their mission, and
are all contributing their meed of help in preparing
our youth to be polished stones in the Lord's build
ing. Yet inasmuch as many of them are written in
a spirit so stern, or in a style so grave, as to be
without attraction sufficient to command the attention of unawakened youth generally, I have long
thought that a volume, made attractive by the
abundance and interest of its illustrations, yet dealing
pungently with the conscience, and appealing faithfully
to the hopes and fears of the young mind, might be
instrumental in reaching some erring but precious
young souls who are inaccessible to the influence
of kindred works. This conviction led me to plan
And to commence this book some six years ago. My
4 
PREFACE.
editorial and other duties hindered its completion,
until, moved by daily reflection on the brevity and
uncertainty of life, and by a desire to plead in Christ's
behalf with as many of the youth of my times as
possible, I employed the spare moments of the past
year in bringing it to a conclusion. That I have
reached the height of my purpose, or equaled the
excellence of Baxter, Alleine, Doddridge, or Pike, I
have not the vanity to presume; that I have sincerely
attempted to win some jewels for my Master's crown
from among the millions of our great nation's youth,
I am clearly conscious. With this consciousness, I
send forth my unpretending book-a modest messenger of love-praying that it may be an evangel to
many hearts, and the guide of thousands into "ways
of pleasantness and paths of peace."           D. W.
233 ADELPHI-STREET, BROOKLYN, 
January, 1859.      f
6
* 
C 0 N T E N T S
CHAPTER I.
THE BUBBLE BURST.
The unhappy Comedian-Hypocrisy of Worldlings- The Au thor's Apology - The Reader's Choice - The Child and the
Bubble -The World a Bubble -The Figure of Dust- Bewitch ing Dreams - Dissolved Enchantments - A Supposition and its
Application-The Soul's Spirituality unfits it to be satisfied
with the World - The European Voyage - The Soul's future
Wants - A Madman's Folly - The Emigrant - Competent Wit  nesses to the World's Insufficiency - Solomon - Gelimer -
Saladin- Horatio Nelson- Talleyrand- A  gay  Sinner -
Voices of Experience- The great Problem - Appeal. Page 13
CHAPTER II.
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
The Caliph and the broken Casket of Pearls-The Ethiop's
Fidelity -A Difference between the Christian and the Worldling
stated - A Truth unfolded - A dangerous Idea exposed Enjoyment not the chief End of Life - How Happiness is won The Enjoyment of this World not denied to the Pious- What
Piety forbids, and what it requires- The Worldling and Chris tian contrasted- A Problem solved- An old Fable - Its Appli cation - The Pious Man's Advantage stated  Poetic Extract Dr. Adam Clarke's Opinion - Mahmoud and the Idol at Som nat- How to enjoy the World-A Plea- Poetic Extract. 33
CHAPTER III.
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF A SINFUL LIFE.
Dr. Dodd - His early Prospects - His Temptations -His Weak ness - His Fall -His ignominious Death -Dr. Dodd the Type 
CONTENTS.
of a Class- The Reader's Inquiry- The young Worldling's
Danger- The Reader's Doubt - Siserain the Tent of Jael - The
Worldling's Jael - Deceptiveness of Sin - The Peril of a sinful
Life-Dr. Dodd's first Step to Ruin- Folly the first Step in
every downward Career -A weak Point in every human Character - Poetical Extract- The greatest of Flatterers- A Scene
from History - The only true Protector refused - Is a well-educated but enslaved Conscience a reliable Protection?- Pride of
Character - The fool-hardy Douglass - Unexpected Foes -
Anxur and Eneas - A Caution - Benedict Arnold - Lack of
present Inclination for great Sins no Proof of Safety - The
Tiger's Cub -Moral Habits - When reliable -Selfish Morality
not reliable- An Ancient Tale - A Test proposed - Probable
result - Words of Entreaty- Extract from Quarles....... 47
CHAPTER IV.
LINKED ARMOR FOR TEMPTED YOUNG SOULS.
Napoleon's Habit of Precaution - Precaution in the Campaign of
Life urged- The only reliable Means of Victory- The Weav er's Apprentice - The Missionary- Effect of regenerated Life
on the Conscience - Poetic Extracts - High Self-respect be gotten by Religion - Its restraining Power- Love to Christ -
The sick young Noble and the loving Peasant Boy - Re straining Power of Divine Love - IRutherford-Paul-Poetic
Extract -Beautiful Idea from Job -Colonel Gardner- Words
of Persuasion........................................... 72
CHAPTER V.
THE DARE DAYS OF LIFE.
Sayings of Emersen, Longfellow, Bishop Hall, and Holy Writ Trouble every Man's inevitable Destiny-A grave Question -
A Case of Commercial Shipwreck supposed -Is Strength of
Mind sufficient in great Trials? - The two Merchant Princes -
Napoleonat Borodino -The Sympathy of Friends -Its proba ble  Worth - Poetic  Extract —Uncertain  Value  of human
Friendships - Bereavements - The Widow's Hearth-stone
Desolated - A comfortless Heart - Saying of an impatient
Lady-Of Euripides - Of a bereaved Deist - Dogged submis
8 
CONTENTS.
sion described-The Dragon with many Heads- The Christian in Affliction - Napoleon at Wagram - Mental Repose in
Trouble-The Dew-drop that'became a Pearl -Pity's Interpretation of Affliction-The Hunter and the Honey-birdAnother use of Affliction - Servulus - Its all right, Father -
Christian Submission -Words of Entreaty............... 86
CHAPTER VI.
PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY.
Curious Legend-The March of Sinful Deeds through a guilty
Heart - The Inheritance of the Christian- Peace of God de scribed - Poetic Extract - The Child and its Dead Mother's
Picture - Love of Christ- The principal Thing in Piety- The
Love of God described- Augustine- An Old Man sitting in
God's Shadow - Rutherford's Love - What Divine Love does
- The rich Landholder and the simple Peasant - Hope - Its
Raptures-Peculiarity of a Christian's Hope-Earthly Hope
compared with the Heavenly -Sublime conception of Hope by
a Deaf Mute - Rutherford's Hope - The Pleasure of Victory -
Napoleon at Paris....................................... 108
CHAPTER VII.
HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH.
The two Ships-The Storm-The Wreck- The Arrival-Op posite Destinies - What every Mortal's Life must be-Death
near at hand - Extract from Schiller - An unpleasant Theme -
Rachel's Death-bed - The Fisherman's fear- Two Facts which
make it unpleasant for Sinners to think of Death -Christian
Views of Death - Poetic Extract - A priceless Blessing -
What must it be to die? - An unconscious Death - Terrible
awakening in Eternity- Fearlessness of some wicked Men in
their Death - Gibbon - Hume - Nelson - Ney - The Girond ists - Napoleon - A Contrast- Indifference to Death explained
- The Sleeper on the Volcano's Breach - The bold Sinner in
Eternity - The Shadow ofthe Second Death - Goethe's Death bed - Foretastes of Damnation - Extract from Blair - A Sin ner's dying Cry of Despair-Cardinal Mazarin-Voltaire
9 
CONTENTS.
Paine-Randolph- -Hobbes-Bell-Chaloner-A good Man's
Death delightful - Mrs. Hamlin - Dr. Moore's Patients -
Montmorency- Golding- kn old Man on the Brink of Jordan
- Degrees of Triumph - Words of Exhortation - A Christian's
Death-song............................................ 126
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
A charming Spectacle - Outward bound Ships and their Desti nies - The Fates of Men - The Soul immortal - The Insect's
Task, an Illustration- Greatness of the human Soul - A pain ful Spectacle - A prosperous Sinner in Hell- A representative
Character - The Nature of the Rich Man's Torment - Sin the
Fuel of Hell-fire - Pangs of a guilty Conscience in this Life -
Sir Walter Scott's Confession - The sick Youth - Rev. C. Sim con - The half-drowned Man - The Murderer -Conscience
itself a Hell- Milton's Archangel -Hell an Association of lost
Souls —A startling Thought - Heaven visible to the Lost The Judgment Day- Appeals- Eternal Life -Views fromthe
Land of Beulah - How the Souls of Believers reach Heaven -
Carried by Angels- The blissful Thought of Safety - The
Introduction to heavenly Society - Raptures of the Saved -A
Soul's first Hour in Heaven- Things unknown - A Consolation
-Fullness of Joy- What must it be to be there?........ 147
CHAPTER IX.
I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED.
Parable of the Supper- Disinclination the Parent of Excuses -
Reason for considering Excuses -Dread of prospective Duties
- The young Man who felt he should be called to preach -
A Warning - Appeals - Difficulties vanish when the Heart is
converted - Fear of Persecution - Fear a fearful thing- Ad miral Byng - General Wolfe - Representative Facts - Appeals
-The Rain-drop and the Granite- Persecution yields to Res olution - The young Man,and his angry Father - The young
Lady and her Betrothed - Courage necessary - Excuses of the
Gay and Mirthful -The gay Lady's three Pleasures -Folly
of rejecting Religion for the World - How God often deals with
10 
CONTENTS.
such- The young Lady who lost her Soul for a Ball-Fear of
Failure considered - God seeks to save - Alexander the Great
-Earnest Resolution needed-Words of Exhortation...... 171  t
CHAPTER X.
THE PROCRASTINATOR-S DOOM.
The Prisoner an  the fatal Cistern - A Picture of the Reader's
relations to Eternity - Terror of his Condition - Scene in the
Carthagenian Senate -The great Choice-Wickedness of the
Procrastinator - His danger - The Redeross Knight - Enervat ing effect of Procrastination -The Maiden and her Flowers -
Procrastination Beguiles- The Hoary Fool- Fate of a young
Heir - A young Lady cut off- God is in earnest - Presump  tion Provokes God -The point of Peril - The Lady who was
past Feeling - The doomed old Man- The Gay young Man's
Death - Pleasant Floating - The scoffing Procrastinator- The
young Soldier's Death-bed-Motives to Decision-Love of
Jesus - Efforts of Jesus - Self-love - Love of others - Regard
for Parents- A Father's agony over the loss of his Son's Soul
-Words of entreaty.................................... 192
CHAPTER XI.
VOICES OF DUTY.
Nelson's Signal and Napoleon's Proclamation compared- Motives
ennoble Actions- The Motive of Duty - Frederick the Great
and the Miller- Rights and Duties Reciprocal- God's Rights
as the Owner of Souls- Men's Duties as Creatures - Sin view ed in the light of God's claims- The Ungrateful Guest- The
Grateful Servant- The claims of a Benefactor on the Gratitude
of the benefitted Parties - God a Benefactor- Duty of grateful
Service - The Boy who saved his Mother's Life - Special Bene fits impose special Obligations- God as a Redeemer- His
special claim on Man Redeemed - God should be Loved and
Served for what he is in Himself- The Monk and the Picture -
Effect of Spiritual Illumination on our Views of God's Character
-The more we See of God the less we think of Self-Re sume of Motives -Words of Entreaty.................... 221
11 
C ONTENTS.
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT SHALL I DO BE SAVED?
Warren Hastings - Resolution to be saved urged - The Magis trate's Purpose -The Illustration applied -A  Resolution to
seek God possible -He is urged to put forth his Power- The
Resolution signed - Joy in Heaven - Threader conducted
to the Cross that he may study himself- The Reader's past Life
portrayed -The Reader's exceeding Wickedness illustrated
-The highest Proof of Depravity-Confession of Sin urged
- Springs of Penitence unsealed- A Penitential Cry - A Diffi culty suggested -A Search for favorite Sins Advised- A Divine
Light- Restitution -Sinful Business to be abandoned - Per tinent Facts - The Man who Stole a Bag of Dollars- Effects of
Restitution on his Spirit - Restitution necessary to Pardon -
What the Spirit taught Freeborn Garrettson-Emancipation
necessary to Pardon - A Message from God - A shocking Crop
-Distiller's Promise -The Penitent urged to believe...... 244
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.
Miss Lajolais and the Emperor- Not Justice but Pardon- Re generation given with Pardon - Faith saves - What is saving
Faith -Touching the Hemrof Christ's Garment -The Action of
saving Faith described-The Highland Boy's Faith in his
Father-Putting his Soul into Christ's hands to be pardoned The dying Child's Faith - God's Promise the Rope that Jesus
holds-The sick King and the Prophet's Medicine- Christ's
blood Medicine for the  Soul -How  Faith applies it-A
South  Sea  Islander's Conception  of Faith-Rev.  Charles
Simeon's Faith-Christ the Sinner's Scape-Goat-Different
Expressions of the same Idea-Reliance upon Christ alone
the principal Thing in Faith- An Allegorical Illustration -
Taking Christ's Hand  and putting the Hand into his-No
Merit in Repentance or Faith - Christ's Blood alone saves -
The Sailor's Faith - Just as I am - The Penitent encouraged
to believe- Pardon found- The Song of the saved Soul -
The Hymn of Faithb-Farewell to the Reader........... 267
t2 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
CHAPTER I.
THE BUBBLE BURST.
A CELEBRATED and highly popular comedian once
waited upon a physician with a request to be cured
of an overpowering melancholy.   "Go," advised the
medical gentleman, "go to the theater and witness
the comic performances of  "Alas!" replied his patient, "I am that comedian!
I make others merry, but, while they are laughing at
the sallies of my wit, my own heart is as unmoved
as a stone. Amid the laughter of delighted multitudes I remain the most sad and miserable of beings
myself!" 
How true to the experience of all worldlings is
this picture of the comedian's heart! He was a 
14     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
hypocrite in his pleasantries: so are all gay sinners.
Their eyes flash, their lips smile, their tongues utter
sparkling jests, but their hearts silently sigh over a
conscious vacuity which they vainly implore the
world to fill. Their consciences sting them for degrading spiritual capacities, capable of grasping the
Infinite, to the Dead Sea of sensuality, and for casting
away eternal life at the bidding of bodily appetites
and passions. But in vain does the soul sigh and the
conscience sting. The sinner will have his delights.
He hides his misery. He dances, sings, jests; his
merry laugh rings through the air, and his companions in sin, wondering, think him happy. They will
not believe his laugh, like theirs, is sepulchral, and
therefore they'envy him his felicity. He too, in his
turn, is deceived by the merriment of'his companions,
and envies them. Thus, all envy, all laugh, all are
deceived; all are hypocrites in their sinful pleasantries.
Start not, dear reader, from this image of your
heart! The fault is not in my mirror but in your
character. The most ill-featured parson is willing to
gaze upon his own face in the glass, and surely you
will be equally ready to behold your moral features;
especially as the hand of a friend holds the mirror,
4 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
and the motive which prompts him to hold it is the
high regard he has for your best interests. If he
reveals the strange defeatures sin has wrought upon
you, it is only to lead you to One who has power to
obliterate them and to cover you with divine beauty;
to Him who can fill the vacuum in your heart, silence
its sighings, heal its wounds, and who can create a
calm, sweet smile upon your lips which shall be the
true index of your feelings. Give me, therefore, your
hand, your heart, your serious attention, and I will
reason with you concerning the things which makefor
your peace.
You have chosen the world. The things of this life
are your glory, your delight, your supreme good.
Your pleasures, your hopes, your thoughts, all center
on the things which are seen. You are devoted to the
world; yea, chained to it, as the corpse of Hector was
bound to the chariot of Achilles on the plain of Troy.
You are at once its admirer and its captive, for "to
whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are."  Permit me to show you your chosen
deity in his true character.
Yonder on the bank of a stream is a little child.
He is intently watching the splashing waters as they
15 
16     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
playfully rush over the pebbles and rocks. Now he
dashes at something in the stream. Now he runs
along the bank eagerly watching an object which is
floating there. How earnest he is! How weary with
his long pursuit! Yet onward! onward still he descends the brook; now running, now grasping after
something which as often eludes his touch. But the
day wanes. Night mantles the earth with gloom.
The child stops, looks round, and weeps bitterly!
The scene is strange to his eyes. He has, in the ardor
of his pursuit, wandered far from home! Now that
night has come he is weary, faint, lost!
What has the child been seeking all day?
He saw a bright bubble on the clear waters sparkling in the sunbeam's light. It charmed him. He
pursued it. It eluded his grasp, yet still decoyed
him down the stream. He sought the worthless
thing with all the earnestness of his young heart,
missed it, and was lost!
Behold in this child an image of yourself! See in
his misfortune a figure of your own ruin! For worthless and false as that bubble is the world you seek.
Your enthusiasm in its pursuit is madness. Every
step you take leads you farther away from God, the 
THE BUBBLE- BURST.
soul's true home, and hurries you toward the region
of desolation, sorrow, and death.
"THE WORLD- PASSETH AWAY AND THE LUST THEREoF," is an inscription written with the pencil of the
Almighty over the archway of.the world. The poet
has sung, that
"This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow:
There's nothing true but heaven."
Experience, dearly purchased experience too, has
testified to the same effect. It is said that a lady
once came suddenly upon an Etrurian monument, in
which there was just aperture enough to see, for a
moment only, a sitting figure with its look and
drapery of more than a thousand years. She be
held it for a few seconds, preserved only in the stillness of antiquity, when it fell to dust at her very
breathing. Such is the world to its pursuers, beautiful in perspective, dust in possession!
These testimonies you now find it difficult to be
lieve. From the gay dreamland of your youth the
world appears a scene of unsurpassed loveliness and
2
17 
18     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
peerless beauty. You see nothing but bewitching
gardens and sunny vales tastefully filled with green
trees, gay singing birds warbling delicious music,
lovely flowers, and cool fountains glancing in the
sunbeams. To these you add multitudes of joyous
youth who sport away the flying hours in the highest
excitement of unmingled delight. Such to your imagination is the brilliant future of a worldly life!
Alas! alas! My heart is pained at the bare
thought of your certain disappointment, for full well
I know that these dreams will have no fulfillment.
These ideal pictures, created by the enchantments of
your fancy, will change to rude, rough, bitter realities,
when touched by the wand of that more than magician, Experience. Could I convince you of this, young
pilgrim in the journey of life, you might be saved
from many an hour of sorrow, perhaps from the jaws
of destruction itself. Open your heart, therefore, to
conviction, for "a wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall
attain unto wise counsels."
Suppose, for a moment, that you were suffering
very severely from hunger, and were even on the
point of actual starvation.   In this extremity you 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
look imploringly toward an approaching friend, and
with your expiring strength exclaim, "Give me food
for pity's sake! I am dying of hunger! Give me
something to eat, my friend!"
Your friend, gazing upon you with a pitying eye,
promises to bring you instant relief. He hastens
away, but speedily returns laden with dusty tomes,
the works of the ablest minds and profoundest think ers among mankind. Throwing them into your arms,
he exclaims, " Here, my friend, are some of the finest
books extant. They contain the loftiest productions of genius, and teem with the noblest ideas.
Feed upon them freely and satisfy your gnawing
hunger."
I can easily imagine the look of wonder and indignation with which you would receive this strange
communication,  and the sharpness of the tone in
which you would cry, "Books! Ideas! I want bread,
not ideas! Who ever heard of ideas being offered to
a man in my condition? Sir, if you pity me, give
me bread!"
Now I contend that such an offer of ideas to satisfy
the pains of hunger would be as truly consistent as is
your attempt to gratify the wants of your soul with
19 
20-    PLE-ASANT PATHWAYS.
the world. Your friend is supposed to offer thoughts
-immaterial ideas-to satisfy a material or physical
want.  You offer your spiritual nature material food,
and command it to be satisfied! Is not the supposition as consistent as the fact? Js not the one thing as
clearly impossible as the other?
Remember, therefore, that the high nature you
possess, the spirituality of your inner principle,
renders satisfaction in the things of this world impossible. The lofty aspirations, the earnest yearnings of
your spiritual nature, will ever turn with unutterable
disgust from "all that is in the world, the lust of the
flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life,"
as beneath the demands of its infinitely superior capacities. It aspires after communion with the mind of
God, it longs to climb eternal heights. Will you
doom it to trail its glories in the dust? You may
crush its noble aspirings. You may enslave it to the
fleshly and the visible, but in so doing you insure its
present uneasiness and its eternal misery. Is the
world worth the price?
Permit me  to bring another illustration to this
great question. Imagine yourself bound to take a
European voyage. Your residence is some hundred 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
miles or more from the port of embarkation. You
gather your outfit, pack your trunks, and take your
departure from home. But such has been the confu.
sion attending your preparations, and the excitement
of leaving your friends, that, after starting, you find
yourself without letters of introduction, and with
barely means enough to carry you to the port from
whence your vessel is to sail. Now, with this discovery, could you take any real pleasure on your
journey? The river boat in which you sailed might
be as gorgeous in her appointments and furniture as
the palace of an Eastern calif. The scenery around
you might be as lovely as the vale of Tempe. The
companions of your voyage as cheerful as Mirth.
The table furnished With all imaginable delicacies.
Yet a thought of your certain embarrassment at the
termination of your inland journey would be a frost
upon your heart, effectually cooling the ardor of
enjoyment.   "What  shall  I do  without  means
or friends?" would be the ghostlike question haunting you every hour, filling you with unrest and
alarm.
Do you comprehend my meaning, traveler to the
boundless future? know you not that
21 
22     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"Our lives are rivers, gliding free
To that unfathomed, boundless sea,
The silent grave I"
Know you not also that your IMMORTAL SOUL iS
conscious of wants beyond the quiet tomb? Is it
enough to offer that undying nature gifts and goods
which must be left at the grave's mouth? Granting that
your beloved pleasures were sufficiently exalted to meet
the present wants of your inner life, yet, gazing on
the truth that "we brought nothing into this world and
it is certain WE CAN CARRY NOTHING OUT,"  can they
give your soul rest? Will not that immortal thing
within you often stand gazing into the infinite, beholding file unmeasured cycles of eternity in their
stupendous vastness, and feeling an indestructible
consciousness that its duration is as unlimited as that
eternity? Does not the knowledge that it has no
passports, no preparation for that voyage into immensity, cause it to shrink fearfully from its perils?
And can the costliest delights of earth quiet its fears
or satisfy its desires?  Nay! It is impossible!  Your
immortal nature cries aloud for sources of enjoyment
as endurinyg as itself. Give it this world only, and
you doom it to disquiet, fear, and sorrow. 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
What would you say to a man who should seriously declare, "I will hereafter see with my ears and
hear with my eyes!"
"I should pronounce him a madman," you reply.
"But why call him a madman, my friend?"
"Why, indeed!  Could he be less than mad who
should pretend to violate the order of God? God
has adapted the eye to the nature of light, the ear to
the nature of sound, and he must be mad indeed who
can talk of reversing this method of seeing and hearing. Why, sir, the thing is impossible, the idea madness, the pretension folly!"
All this is true, and proves you, gay worldling, to
be a madman indeed. For you are attempting the
daring, the impossible folly of violating the order of
God! Not, to be sure, in threatening to see with
your ears, but in resolving to be happy "without
God." As truly as he has appointed the eye to see,
the ear to hear, has he also decreed that the soul of
man shall find its pleasure in his service. Over the
grand archway of human life he has graven this inscription for the guidance of every traveler:
"INCLINE YOUR EAR AND COME UNTO ME:
HIEAR AND YOUR SOUL SHALL LIVEo."
23 
24      PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
But you have made a covenant with earthborn
pleasure. You have determined "to live" without
inclining your ear or coming unto God. In defiance
of God's order, and of the established fact that no
man has ever found true pleasure out of Him any
more than any person has been able to hear with his
eyes, you will "spend money for that which is not
bread, and your labor for that which satlisfeth not." Is
not this madness?  Forbear, then, vain man, to fight
against God! Your folly has lasted sufficiently long
already. Let a pious poet reason with you, who asks
"For the bright world of
Pure and boundless love,
What hast thou found? Alas, a narrow room I
Put out that light,
Restore thy soul its sight,
For better't is to dwell in outward gloom,
Than by the vile body's eye
To rob the soul of its infinity."
If a man were about to emigrate to some far-off
land, and to risk his whole fortune in the enterprise,
he would assuredly listen to the words of experience.
However bright the pictures of his fancy, however
ardent his pantings after his imaginary elysium, he
would certainly pause if credible men, returning from 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
that new world of his hopes, sh%ild uniformly testify
that although verdant as paradise and fruitful as
Eden, a deadly malaria poisoned the atmosphere and
made it a land of graves. Such testimony would
surely cause a sane mind to change its purposes, and
shun a danger so obvious and undeniable, "for a wise
man feareth and DEPARTETH FROM EVIL; but the fool
raqeth and is CONFIDENT."
Now I am able to offer you credible testimony
from competent judges concerning the incapacity of
this perishing world to give you the happiness it so
falsely promises, and which you so credulously expect.
Against your hopes lies the fact that, thus far, the
world has not fulfilled its promises to you. Your
present state is well described by one who tried your
god faithfully, and said of his youth,
"I was not happy, but I knew not then
That happy I was never doom'd to be."
And this, if all past experience is not illusion, will
be your sad conclusion if you continue the slave of
the world. To feel convinced of this, study well the
following testimonies:
KING SOLOMON tried an experiment with the world
25 
26     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
He wished to know if it contained aught that could
confer real bliss. He had abundant means for his
purposes. He tried the pleasures of wine, of feasting,
of lust, of music, of building, of horticulture, of
wealth,  of power,  of ambition,  of greatness.   In
describing his attempt he says:
"WHATSOEVER  mine  eyes  desired  I  kept  not
from them. I withheld not my heart from any
joy!"
Thus he tried the world in all its forms. He
brought all its resources to the test. Never, perhaps, has mortal man had equal opportunity to make
such a trial of its power. What is his verdict.
Hear it, child of pleasure!  Ponder it well and
deeply.  " Behold!" he exclaims, after reviewing his
experience, "BEHOLD, ALL WAS VANITY AND VEXATION
OF SPIRIT!
GELIMER was king of the Vandals, and was, for a
time, a victorious, powerful sovereign. The pleasures of wealth, pomp, and ambition, flowed like
streams into his heart. But they had no power to
satisfy, for when led a captive, afterward, at the
chariot wheels of his conqueror, Belisarius, through
the streets of Constantinople, he too cried, " Vanity 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
of vanities! Vanity of vanities!" An affecting tes.
timony to the utter worthlessness of visible splendors
and earthly good.
Behold also the magnanimous SALADIN, the noble
hearted Saracen, an eastern sultan, whose bravery
was only matched by that of the chivalrous Richard,
England's lion-hearted king. After a life of successful wars, this mighty man lay on his couch pale and
dying, surrounded by prince and paladin, peer and
warrior.   The expiring sultan bade them take his
shroud, fasten it to his victorious banner-staff, and bid
a herald carry it through the city streets, exclaiming
as he went: "This is all that is left, of all his greatness, to the mighty Saladin!" What a bitter confession of the emptiness of worldly things was contained
in this expressive command!
Hear still another.  Let HORATIO NELSON speak.
He entered upon his career a sickly boy, an almost
unfriended coxswain in a British ship-of-war. He
toiled hard and long for fame, honor, wealth. He
gained them all. The pale-faced boy became an
admiral, a viscount, a duke, a knight of various
orders. He was the hero of a hundred fights. Whole
nations feared him, while in his native land no man
27 
28     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
could excite such enthusiasm as thrilled the hearts of
his countrymen when he appeared. He was literally
covered with the glory of this world. Let him tell
what the world did toward making him a happy
man:
"I am now," he wrote, "I am now perfectly the
great man: not a creature near me.   From my heart
I wish myself the little man again!
"THERE IS NO TRUE HAPPINESS IN THIS LIFE, and in
my present state I could quit it with a smile. Believe me, my only wish is to sink with honor to the
grave. I envy none but those of the estate of six
feet by two!"
Listen again.  The witness is hoary with age, and
the wealthy owner of a magnificent palace. During
his long life he was first a priest, then a bishop; next
a merchant, then a statesman and diplomatist, a
prince of the French empire, and the confidential
adviser of that great warrior-king, Napoleon.   His
companions have been kings and warriors. His
counsels have decided the fate of empires.   His
name  is TALLEYRAND.   Let him  say how  much
happiness this world can yield its most successful
votaries. 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
"Eighty-three years of life," he writes, "are now
passed, filled with what anxieties! what agitations!
what vanities! what troublous perplexities! And
all this with no other result than great fatigue, and a
profound sentiment of discouragement with regard to
the future, and of disgust for the past."
Now hear a gay sinner speak from the circles of
private life.  Writing to a friend he said: "There is
not a blessing springs upon  my  path but mildew
covers it; nor a flower that blooms there which does
not wither and die. Although gray hairs have not
silvered my head, yet my hopes are dead, and now
in my prime I must, it is most likely, sink to my
grave with an icy chillness round my heart. My life
is steered by the chart of misery!"
Such is the voice of experience concerning the
world. Its friends, too, are the speakers. I have
purposely selected the verdicts of successful seekers
after worldly joy. Had I given the opinion of
spiritual Christians, you might have objected that
they have to defend the consistency of their prac tice in forsaking the pleasures of this life, and are
therefore interested witnesses. You cannot offer this
reply to the parties before you. One of them, Solo
29 
s0.PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
mon, was a Jew, Gelimer was a pagan, Saladin was a
follower of Mohammed, Nelson a nominal Christian,
Talleyrand was a Papist, and the gay sinner was a
skeptic! But though differing so widely in their
religious views and in their circumstances, they all
testify to the utter insufficiency of the world to satisfy
and make happy the immortal soul of man. Thus
the sons of pleasure agree with experimental Christians, and with the Holy Scriptures, in teaching the
vanity of mere earthly pleasures.  They all sustain
the poet who, in portraying the world, says:
" The empty pageant rolls along;
The giddy, inexperienced throng
Pursue it with enchanted eyes;
It passeth in swift march away;
Still more and more its charms decay,
Till the last gaudy color dies."
What wiltl you-what can you reply to this overwhelming mass of evidence? You must stand
speechless before it!  You must be convinced by it!
You must yield to its authority or be self-convicted
of willful blindness. Let me persuade you to submit
-to cast off the world: for even admitting it could
give real bliss, and that all your expectations of 
THE BUBBLE BURST.
attaining it will be realized, which is very uncertain,
you will have, at best, but a small portion of its
wealth or honor. Why then will you sell your pres.
ent happiness and your soul for so uncertain and valueless a price? Study well this momentous problem:
"WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT A MAN IF HE SHALL GAIN THE
WHOLE WORLD AND LOSE HIS OWN SOUL? OR WHAT
SHALL A MAN GIVE IN EXCHANGE FOR HIS SOUL?" Can
you afford to make such a bargain? Will you sell your
soul for a little sensual pleasure? Horrible bargain!
Immortal blessedness sold for a world which, in its
richest aspect. is vanity! Pause, beloved youth,
ere you ratify such a fatal contract! Do not hide its
true awfulness from your sight by saying you do not
intend to cast off God and religion in following the
pleasures of this world. The sacrifice of the Divine
service, and of the soul, is inevitable if you will serve
the world.  "Ye CANNOT serve God and mammon,"
and " know ye not that the friendship of the world is
enmity with God? Whosoever therefore will be a
friend of the world is the enemy of God!"
Choose, then, between this manifestly unsatisfying
world and the salvation of your soul! The issue
is plainly before you. Take this world and its short
31 
32     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
lived vanities, and you shall lose the favor of God!
heaven! your soul!  Or, give up the world and God
will give you himself, and save you with an everlasting life; for "the fear of the Lord  tendeth to life,
and he who hath it shall abide satisfled; he shall not
be visited with evil."
Bid your idol adieu, therefore, saying with SiR
HENRY WOTTON:
"Farewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles I
Farewell, ye honored rags, ye glorious bubbles!
Fame's but a hollow echo; gold, pure clay;
Honor, the darling but of one short day;
Beauty, the eye's idol, but a damask'd skin;
State, but a golden prison to live in,
And torture freeborn minds; embroidered trains,
Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins:
*      *       *      *      *       *
Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth." 
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
CHAPTER II.
HOW TO  ENJOY THIS LIFE.
THE Orientals relate a beautiful legend of their
renowned calif, HAROUN AL RAScHID. He was
riding one day with his train along a narrow street in
Bagdad, when one of his camels stumbled. By its
fall a casket of pearls was broken, and its precious
contents scattered upon the ground. Nodding to his
attendants, the calif gave them permission to gather
the costly spoils for themselves. In an instant they
rushed from his train to gather up the guerdon of
their master-all but one stout, hideous-faced Ethiopian.  "Moveless as the steed he reined," he still sat
behind his lord.  Surprised, the calif said:
"Tell me, good fellow, why you seek not your
share of the pearls? What will you gain by thus
lingering near to me?"
"My gain will be this, sire," replied the Ethiopian;
"I shall know that I have faithfully guarded my king."
33 
84     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
That noble reply won the calif's heart. Speaking
of his faithful Ethiop to his friend, he said:
-" No features fair
Nor comely mien are his;
Love is the beauty he doth wear,
And love his glory is."
This legend finely illustrates a difference between
the Christian and the worldling. The former finds his
good in the Creator himself, as the Ethiop found his
gain in serving his king; the latter seeks his good in
the "creature," as the calif's servants sought their
gain in the scattered pearls. The former remembers,
the latter forgets,
"That if thou not to Him aspire,
But to his gifts alone,
Not love, but covetous desire,
Has brought thee to his throne."
As a worldling, you, beloved youth, are falling into
the sad mistake of the latter class. You are look
ing for happiness not in God, but in his gifts alone, in
the scattered pearls of earth's broken casket. ThJat
this expectation must be quenched in the dead sea of
disappointment I have, I trust, convinced you. Permit me now to unfold a truth which is probably new 
HOW TO ENJOY'THIS LIFE.
to you. Let me show you that the way to extract
the utmost pleasure from the things of this life is not
by a "studied indulgence of the appetites and passions," but by seeking your chief happiness in God.
Before entering further, however, on this subject, I
must guard you against the dangerous idea that your
personal enjoyment is the true end and aim of life.
The poet, in-his "Psalm of Life," teaches you better.
Hie says:
"Not enjoyment and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day."
The poet is right. Your chief end is neither selfish
joy nor selfish grief, but such earnest action- such a
right use of your powers-as shall daily carry you
farther from the selfish and the carnal, and nearer to
the pure character of Him who is both the embodiment  and  the  source of  all real  felicity.   The
result of that action will be the highest happiness,
physical, mental, and spiritual, of which you are capable. If you will make it your object to attain the
image of God, he will make it his care to promote
your enjoyment. If his service is your delight, he
35 
36     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
will see to it that all things within you and without
you contribute to your happiness. His whole nature,
which is love, moves him to do this. Look backward along the far-stretching aisle of time. See the
first pair as they came from his hands in Eden. So
long as they made him the sole object of their loving
service, he made everything tributary to their pleasure. Beauty filled their eyes, melody charmed their
ears.  Every movement of their limbs, every excitation of their senses, every gratification of their appetites, every agitation of their emotions, every exercise
of their reasoning faculty, every thought of each
other, every perception of the Creator, caused a fresh
wave of delight to pass over their happy spirits.  But
when they turned their eyes from the Creator and set
themselves to the work of seeking their own interests
and pleasures in their own way, then, alas! happiness
fled from Paradise and them. Then pain, and sorrow,
and discord, and fear, were born into their hearts, and
misery became the heir-loom of silnning mortals. Still
God's desire for human happiness, like his loving nature,
remained unchanged. But as man lost it by turning
away from God as the supreme good, so he must
recover it by turning to him again with devoted love 
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
and faithful service. Sought on selfish principles, and
as a selfish end, happiness can never be found; but
sought in God, it bubbles up within the soul "a well
of water springing up unto eternal life."
You probably hold the opinion that to be pious
you must so separate yourself from the world as to
take no pleasure in anything but strictly religious
exercises. You fancy that true piety prohibits you
from enjoying any pleasure in earthly objects, pursuits, and associations; that it requires you to walk
amid all the delights of this terrestrial life with
elongated countenance, rigid muscles, and mournful
step, like some grave mute at a funeral, or some half
buried old monk of the middle ages, whose mystic
creed taught him that he was in the high road to saintship because he could say:
"I have torn up the roses from lily garden
And planted thorns instead; I have forged my griefs,
And hugged the griefs I dared not forge; made earth
A hell for heaven."
If you hold such views, you, like the monkish
mystic, cherish a false opinion. True piety does not
so war with your nature as to prohibit you from
enjoying all the delight which springs from the legit
87 
38     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
imate exercises of your bodily senses and appetites,
of your social affections, of your various emotions, and
of your intellectual faculties. You may be eminently
pious, and at the same time find pleasure in eating,
drinking, hearing, seeing, feeling; in the transaction
of business, and the accumulation of property; in
cheerful, social intercourse with congenial minds; in
intellectual pursuits, in the cultivation of the imagination and the esthetic tastes; in historic, philosophic,
scientific studies. In brief, you may be a devoted
Christian, and enjoy every pleasant sensation, emotion,
and affection that can be called into activity, by external objects, without violating the laws of your phys
ical, moral, or intellectual nature.
What piety forbids is not use but excess.  It comes
to all men, "teaching us that denying ungodliness and
worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and
godly in this present world." What piety requires
is the right use of your senses, appetites, and emotions, and of those objects in the world which pleasurably excite them.  The godly are "they that USE
this world as NOT ABUSING it." Even the dreaded selfdenial which religion enjoins is not directed against 
the lawful use of things that are lawful, but against 
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
that powerful tendency to excessive self-indulgence
which is the black brand on depraved human nature,
and the source of those mighty conflicts between flesh
and spirit, through which every earnest soul must pass
that would enter the gate of eternal life. But as
Orpheus with his lyre charmed the grim monarch of
Hades into submission to his wishes, so piety in a
good man's heart throws a spell of power over his
appetites and passions, thereby bringing the carnal
tendency of his nature into subjection to the law of
righteousness. Let us view him in contrast with
the worldling at this point.
The worldling yields to the cravings of his depraved nature, and indulges his sensations and emotions
more than is either right or healthful; the pious mind
conquers it, and rests satisfied with lawful and healthful pleasures. The worldling seeks sensible pleasures
as the prime aim of his existence; the pious man accepts them as the seasoning of duty and a stimulant
to its performance. The worldling " fulfills the lusts
of the flesh," and plunges into "divers worldly lusts,"
such as gluttony, drunkenness, revelings, vain amusemenlts, covetousness, and the like; the pious man
"crucifies the flesh with its affections and lusts,"
89 
40    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
keeps his " body under, and brings it into subjection"
to the law of " temperance in all things." The world ling so indulges himself as to incur guilt in his pleas ures; the pious man accepts such pleasure only as is
consistent with the preservation of a pure conscience
and a mind at peace with God. In a word, the
worldling is the devoted slave of his appetites and
passions; the pious man is their wise master and
lord. Which, then, think you, is likely to derive the
most pleasure from them through a lifetime? Their
master or their slave?
To solve this problem you need only consider carefully what has been already stated, that the pious
maneeps the laws of his physical, mental, and moral
constitution in all his pleasures, while the worldling
indulges himself without regard to those laws. Now,
most assuredly, no man can, on the whole, extract
more pleasure from his sensations and emotions by
violating their laws than can be obtained from their
lawful use. If he can, then God has so constituted
men as to make disobedience more productive of hap.
piness than obedience, wich cannot be true.  If he
cannot, then a religious life, instead of depriving you
of all sensible pleasures, is likely to afford you more 
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
enjoyment of earthly things than a sinful and worldly
one, and to verify the saying of the Master: "Seek
first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and
all these things shall be added unto you." " He that
keepeth the law, happy is he."
There is an old fable which will further illustrate
the difference between the pious man and the worldling with respect to their enjoyment of this life. It
describes a bee finding a jar of sweetmeats in a
garden. Forsaking the flowers, it plunged into the
jar of sweets and gave itself up to their enjoyment.
Despising the tedious toil of its fellow-bees among
the flowers, it clung to its abundance and eat to
satiety. Cloyed at length, it sought to quit its
pleasure-house and return to its hive.  But its legs
were buried in the sweets.   Flapping its wings to
escape, they too became immured in the luscious
mire. Struggling still harder, it sunk deeper, and
finally found death, where so lately it found nothing
but delight.
That silly bee is a fitting type of the worldling, for
like it he plunges into pleasures of appetite, sensation, or passion, and voraciously devours, while the
good man cautiously sips. Like the bee, too, he may
41 
42     PLEASANT PATHWA S.
crowd more of enjoyment into a brief space of time
than the good man can obtain from lawful moderation. But mark the result. The excess of his indulgence cloys his appetites; he is then afflicted with
the nausea of satiety. Disgust deadens the raptures
of desire. Exhaustion succeeds the excitement of passion. The vital forces having been too lavishly expended, become insufficient to impart healthful motion
to the machinery of life, and its wheels begin to drag
heavily along. The abused animal functions develop
disease and feebleness, and he becomes incapable of
enjoyment, and the victim of pain. Still his diseased imagination tyrannizes over his passions, his
habits weave iron webs around him, and his imbecile
will, unable to resist, permits him to be dragged, like
a slave, into the embrace of pleasures which his
cloyed heart loathes. Under this discipline of misery
his mind and body soon break down. He lives on a
wretched wreck of humanity, or stumbles prematurely
into an unhonored grave. -
Such is the worldling's pleasure.  Now look again
at the manner of the pious man's enjoyment of
life, and its results. He places, as I have before
shown, the law of God, as found in the Scriptures and 
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
in his own constitution, as a rein on the neck of his
sensational and emotional nature, and thus restrains it
from what is sinful. While he avoids excess, he
extracts all lawful pleasure from every lawful object
that can act upon his senses and emotions. Thus he
enjoys life slowly; he gratifies, but does not cloy his
appetites; hence he knows nothing of the nausea of
satiety, the ennui of exhaustion, or the feebleness of
abused powers. His vital forces remain vigorous
and abundant; the currents of life flow healthfully along his veins; life is to him a daily benison.
He enjoys his existence, and having thus carefully
husbanded his vital forces until, by natural expenditure, they are exhausted, he finally passes from a
peaceful death-bed into anhonorable grave.*
* Commenting on the apostle's saying, " Godliness is profitable
for the life that now is," ADAM CLARIx observes:  "The  man
that fears, loves, and serves God, has God's blessing all through
life. His religion saves him from all those excesses, both in action
and passion, which sap the foundations of life, and render existence itself often a burden. The peace and love of God in the
heart produce a serenity and calm which cause the lamp of life
to burn clear, strong, and permanent. Evil and disorderly passions obscure and stifle the vital spark. Every truly religious
man extracts the uttermost good      ot of life itself, and, through the
Divine blessing, gets the uttermost good that is in life; and what is
better than all, acquires a full preparation here below for an eternal
43 
44     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
" How men would mock at Pleasure's shows,
Her golden promise, if they knew
What weary work she is to those
Who have no better work to do.
"Curved is the line of beauty,
Strait is the line of duty;
Walk by the last and thou shalt see
The other ever follow thee.
" O righteous doom, that they who make
Pleasures their only end,
Ordering their whole life for its sake,
Miss that whereto they trend:
"While they who bid stern duty lead,
Content to follow, they,
Of duty only taking heed,
Find pleasure by the way."
It is said of MAHMOUD, the, great Mohammedall
conqueror of India, that after his victory at Somnat
he found a stupendous idol at the gates of its temple.
"Destroy it!" cried the zealous warrior.  "God is
one; destroy this false idol!"
The Brahmins fell at his feet. "Spare our god
Somnat," they pleaded; "we will give thee gold,
pearls, and jewels-of rarest luster."
life of glory above. Thus godliness has the promise of, and
secures the blessings of both worlds." 
HOW TO ENJOY THIS LIFE.
"It must be destroyed," retorted the conqueror.
"I would rather be remembered as the breaker than
the seller of idols!" Having uttered these words,
" High he rear'd his battle-ax, and heavily came down the blow;
Reel'd the abominable image, broken, bursten, to and froFrom its shatter'd sides revealing pearls, and diamonds, showers
of gold;
More than all that proffer'd ransom, more than all a hundred   fold."
As with Mahmoud and the idol, so must it be with
thee and the world, my reader. To enjoy it you must
smite it. To win the wealth of pleasure it contains
you must dethrone it, die to it, despise it, conquer it.
You must abandon its gay haunts and refuse to touch
its sinful amusements; you must shun the ball-room,
the theater, the opera-house, the gambling saloon,
with every haunt of folly; you must detach your
affections from its wealth, its honors, its fashions.
But in doing all this, you sacrifice no real pleasure;
you do not diminish the degree of enjoyment which
life can extract from the earthly; on the contrary,
He, to gain whose love you flee these sinful things,
will compel the world to pour its pearls into your
lap-to bring you as much of its innocent pleasures
as may be consistent with your highest interests
45 
46     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
your eternal happiness-to yield you more pure
pleasure than godless worldling ever knew. Smite,
then! Smite thy idol world to the dust. Seek its
sinful pleasures no longer:
"Fond youth, give o'er,
And vex thy soul no more
In seeking what were better far unfound;
Alas! thy gains
Are only present pains
To gather scorpions for a future wound."
But gather up your soul's affections; bind yourself
with them to the cross of Jesus, and consecrate your
noble nature to Him whose service is freedom, whose
laws are paths of happiness, and at whose right hand
there are "pleasures for evermore." Thus shall
your glad heart be
"A hidden fountain fed from unseen springs
From the glad-making river of our God." 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 47
CHAPTER III.
THE SOCIAL HAZARDS OF A SINFUL LIFE.
A LITTLE more than a century ago a young man
named WILLIAM DODD graduated with eclat at Cambridge University, England. Being the son of a
clergyman he had enjoyed the benefits of early religious training. Having the advantages of a fine
person, a superior mind, a thorough education, and
good family connections, his life-prospects were as
bright and promising as those of any young man in
his class. Who could have predicted that such a fair
beginning would be succeeded by an ignoble end?
Yet so it was.
For a time this young man's path was sunlit, and
his hopes bloomed out into beautiful successes.
Having entered the ministry he soon became singularly popular. His fine physique, charming voice,
elegant manners, and eloquent utterances, led admiring thousands to throng his church. Nobles, wits, and 
48     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
highborn ladies heard him with delight, and filled his
ears with their flatteries. Preferments followed ill
the wake of popularity. Lectureships, college titles,
a prebend's stall, a royal chaplaincy, a vicarage, and
the tutorship of the young Earl of Chesterfield, were
given him. The highest honors of his exalted profession hung like ripening fruit within his grasp.
Alas for this favored child of Providence! His
priestly robes concealed a worldling's heart. An insane passion for the society of the wealthy, the titled,
and the nobly born, burned like a consuming flame
in his breast. He yielded himself to its impulses,
and it beguiled him into a style of living, the expenses
of which preyed like locusts on his income, and made
him poor in the midst of plenty. Reason pleaded
and conscience protested against this passion in vain.
it was his Calypso. Syren-like, it fascinated him,
and drew him farther and farther from the line of
duty, until it bound him in heavy chains of impracticable debts.
Then came a hopeless struggle for freedom, which
ceded only with his utter ruin. Still listening to the
voices of his passion, he tried to break his chains with
the hammer of crime.  First he sought to win the 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 49
gift of a rich rectory by offering a bribe to the lady
of the lord chancellor. He was repelled with merited
scorn, and scourged by the popular tongue into disgraceful privacy.
Would that this stern rebuke had been heeded.
But it was not. His passion lived. His debts were
still unpaid. Then his evil genius triumphed, and in
a sad, sad moment, he forged a bond for over twenty
thousand dollars! The deed was discovered. He
was tried, convicted, sentenced to death, and twentysix years after his graduation at Cambridge, the eloquent and popular William Dodd, D.D., LL.D., expiated his crime on the felon's scaffold.
In this unhappy man behold the type of a class of
persons which may be counted by thousands and tens
of thousands, as they throng the highways and byways of society. They may be found in prisons, in
alms-houses, in cellars and garrets, in dens of shame,
in haunts of poverty, and in the hiding-places of crime.
Like Dr. Dodd, multitudes of them once stood on no
despicable moral and social height. The probabilities
of a reputable, virtuous, and prosperous career, were
in their case fully equal to those of the average of unrenewed men and women. The great social wheel
4 
50     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
which, in its endless revolutions, is continually reversing the positions of men, seemed more likely to carry
them up than to cast them down to the dust. But,
like Dr. Dodd, instead of seeking their supreme good
in their Creator, they sought it in the creature. As
he chose to feed on the foam of human praise, and to
regard the gay circles of fashionable life as his soul's
heaven, so they elected to feed on the ashes of some
perishable delight and to find their paradise in the
present. Hence, like the unhappy Dodd, having
separated themselves from their Creator, they became the victims of their own lusts. Their own desires growing imperious, led them with an imperial
arm down to the depths of sorrow, poverty, shame,
or crime.
"What has all this to do with me?" inquires my
reader. You might as wisely ask what the soldier
has to do with the clarion's voice? What the mariner
with the bell which utters its solemn warning as it
sways over the sunken rock?  Has not the history
of Dr. Dodd, and the class of ruined ones he represents, a clarion's voice, a bell's note of alarm for you?
Have you not entered the fatal door by which they
passed into the house of shame and sorrow? Are 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 51
you not, like them, seeking your supreme good, not in
God, but in the creature? Are you not then liable
to share their destiny? I speak not now of the final
loss of your immortal soul, but of the liabilities of
your life this side the tomb. My question is this:
you have chosen the world to be your chief good your God; are you not, therefore, in danger of fall ing into the same category with Dr. Dodd and his
class, and of ending your life in shame, sorrow,
poverty, or crime? Painfully as the thought may
strike you, I affirm that such a destiny threatens you.
It yawns, like a fearful chasm, in the path you have
entered. I do not assert that you will certainly
stumble into it if you refuse to become a Christian,
because the restraining grace of God, and the grace
of favoring circumstances, may save you. What I
affirm is, your liability as a worldling to pluck down
ruin upon your head, and make a sad, sad failure of
your life on this side the grave.
You do not believe it? I presume not. Young sinners
are not easily convinced, because they do not see their
danger. They walk on enchanted ground. They are
in the "way which," as the All-knowing One describes
it, "seemeth right unto a man," though at the "end 
52     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
thereof are the ways of death." Would that I could
disenchant thee, my beloved reader!
When Sisera, the Canaanite warrior, fled defeated
before the sword of Barak, he sought a hiding-place in
the tent of JAEL. That subtle lady welcomed him with
smiles, and bade him rest in quiet under her protection.
Confiding in her friendly professions, the weary soldier
"asked water and she gave him milk; she brought
forth butter in a lordly dish." He ate and drank, and
then sought refuge from the pangs of defeat in sleep.
Then Jael "put her hand to the nail and her right
hand to the workman's hammer; and with the hammer she smote Sisera, she smote off his head, when
she had pierced and stricken through his temples."
Alas, poor Sisera! The smile of Jael was more
fatal to him than the steel of his foes: and alas
for thee too, young worldling! for although the goddess of sinful pleasure, like Jael, smiles on thee and
brings thee "butter in a lordly dish," yet she carries
the hammer and the nail beneath her vestments; and
when thy conscience is fast locked in the slumber of
folly, she will smite thee a deadly blow, which will
leave thee rolling in the dust of shame, or plunge
thee into the gloom of death. 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 53
It is this deceptiveness, this concealment of the
skeleton beneath a beautiful mask, which makes a
life of devoton to sinful pleasure so perilous. If the
word poison was graven on its cup, if the draught it
offers was bitter to the taste, there would be less of
danger. But it is not so. The false goddess mixes a
charmed draught in a chased cup. Her poison is a
slow one too. It does its work so gradually, that he
who drinks it finds it difficult to believe there is evil
in the draught at all. Did Dr. Dodd dream of his
fate, think you, when he first quaffed the wine of flattery? He smacked his lips over it with delight; he
was mentally intoxicated; but he dreamed not that
the folly which led him to prefer the praise of men to
the praises of God, was the first step toward social
shame. Yet so it was, for
"Adulation is the death of virtue;
Who flatters, is of all mankind the lowest,
Save he who courts flattery."7
Dr. Dodd, as we have seen, was foolish enough
first to love and then to court the flattery of the great.
That folly led him into habits of extravagance. Those
habits plunged him into debt.  His debts goaded him
until, becoming distrustful of his friends and reckless 
54     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
of consequences, he plunged into crime and perished
on the scaffold.
Folly, tten, was the first step in his downward
career. And is not folly the first step in the descent
of all who sink into the pit of social shame? Is it not
the first link in the chain which binds every detnoralized and degraded man and woman now groaning inll
the mire of infamy? Did ever drunkard, gambler,
debauchee, forger, political profligate, or defalcator,
plunge from the pure heights of virtuous life into the
slough of gross and daring sin at a single leap?
Never! Never! Trace the fall of all such persons
back to its source and you will find some folly-perhaps a venial one only-at the beginning. Vanity,
seeking gratification in the admiration of men,  led
that poor poverty-stricken mother into the folly of
the ill-advised marriage which dragged her down to
her present cheerless lot. The same weakness also
led that pitiable creature, whose presence now pollutes the street, into the folly of extravagant dress, of
seeking gay society, or of listening to the voices of
the flatterer, until she was beguiled of woman's most
precious jewel. The folly of aping his superiors in
wealth led that forger into the financial embarrass 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 55
meits which resulted in crime.  The folly of making
haste to be rich led that defalcator to appropriate the
property of others to his own uses. The folly of
yielding to the fascination of a gay associate seduced
that gambler and that drunkard to frequent the
"hellj" in which their moral ruin was consummated.
In short, study the life of any degraded man or
woman, either of the past or present, and you will
find the germ of their corruption concealed in some
sinful or venial folly of their early lives. Every such
life is but the fulfillment of the Divine prediction:
"'In the greatness of his FOLLY he shall go astray!"
Let me strengthen my argument by another fact.
There is in the nature of every human being some
weak moral point at which he is peculiarly accessible.
In other words, there is in all some marked constitu
tional tendency which seeks its development in some
one or more of those specific follies which have
resulted in the ruin of all the socially fallen. One,
for instance, is inclined to pride, another to vanity, a
third is strongly predisposed to covetousness, a
fourth to ambition, a fifth to amativeness, and a sixth
to violent outbursts of anger.   Others, again, have a
tendency to gluttony, indolence, obstinate self-wiln, or 
56    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
to falsehood. In every breast the currents of nature
set strongly in one or more of these evil directions.
Even St. Paul, in his regenerated state, was so con scious of the presence of an "easily besetting" or
constitutional sin, that he required all the energy of
his great will, aided by the grace of God, to struggle
successfully with it. Hear his notable confession:
"I keep under my body and bring it into subjection,
I est that by any means, when I have preached to
others, I myself should be a castaway."
I assume, therefore, dear young reader, that there
are, in your nature, some strong tendencies to particular
forms of sin. I know not what they are. You may be
proud, vain, covetous, lustful, passionate, or self-willed.
But be your tendencies what they may, they are active,
and ever prompting you to the perpetration of one or
more of those specific follies which have led thousands,
yea, tens of thousands, into shame and sorrow; for
"As eagerly the barr'd up bird will beat
And beak against his wiry dome,
Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat
Of your impelled soul will through your bosom burn."
- Are you not, therefore, in danger of sharing their
fate?  Are not your natural tendencies, if unchecked 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 57
by religious restraint, and cherished by your devotion
to the earthly, liable, at least, to forge a chain of follies withowhich to bind you at length to the pillory of
shame? Is it not clear to your own consciousness,
that as you possess the precise tendencies which have
led millions into such follies, you too are liable to be
found in the same category with the morally ruined
and the socially fallen?
"Self-love is the greatest of all flatterers."  It
doubtless whispers words of safety in your ears, assuring you that however other irreligious youths may
have rushed on ruin, you are safe. Well, perhaps
you are. True, you are advancing along a road
bristling with the steel of countless foes, yet it may
be you carry a charmed  life, or you wear linked
armor, so nicely fitted, and of such rare proof that
no fiery arrow or stout broadsword of temptation
can pierce or break it. It may be so and it may not;
but since the peril is great, and the consequences of a
mistake inconceivably fearful, would it not be well
for you to look at your means of defense? Suffer
me, therefore, to ask you, On what do you rely for
moral safety in this path of worldly pleasure which
you have chosen? 
58     PLEASANT PA~HWAYS.
Let me portray a scene from history. A beautiful
valley, situated between two small hills, was made a
battle-field by two armies, whose white lents and
fluttering pemions crowned the opposite heights. In
the middle of the vale there strode a colossal warrior,
full nine feet in height, and with a frame duly proportioned. He was cased from head to foot with armor
of brass. In his hand he bore a spear. With vaunting words he dared the bravest of his foes to meet
him in single combat.
Responding to his challenge, there came a slender
youth in shepherd's garb. He was beautiful though
small in stature. His step was light, his form erect.
He wore no armor, he carried neither sword nor
spear. His only weapon was a sling.
His gigantic adversary sneered bitterly at his weakness, and thought to make him an easy prey. But
the stripling, stepping boldly forward, said: "I come
to thee in the name of the Lord of Hosts," and slung
a stone which, striking the giant's forehead, caused
him to fall on his face a dead man.
Now, mny dear youlng reader, if you were advancing, like David, toward the gigantic dangers which
stand in your path, with the "Lord of Hosts" to help 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 59
you, I would not cherish a particle of anxiety in your
behalf. But alas! alas! that Divine aid, which is the
only help sufficient to secure any man the victory in
the battle of life, you deliberately refuse. Like David, you are obviously inferior to your foes, but you
reject David's helper; while, with none of Goliah's
might, you cherish his self-sufficiency, and are rushing to the conflicts of life, trusting in your own
puny strength. Let us see wherein your power to
overcome lies.
You have, I presume, a well-educated conscience,
which, it must be admitted, is a powerful guardian.
Millions have been saved from ruin by giving heed to
its monitions. Yours would restrain you from ruinous follies, if you would but enthrone it in your
heart, and do it homage as to the Viceroy of heaven.
But this you will not do, as your rejection of God as
your supreme good plainly shows. Just here then
lies your danger. You have already dethroned your
conscience. Its voice has little or no authority over
your desires and passions. Your enslaved will forswore allegiance to it, when it yielded itself to the
sway of your worldly lusts. With what propriety,
then, can you depend on this ill-treated faculty to re. 
60     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
strain you in the hour of fierce temptation? When
your love of creature good shall have placed you in
the pillory of folly, when some Circe shall display
her meretricious charms and stir your passions with
her songs; when your adored and worshiped world
shall tempt you to the embraces of some hitherto unenjoyed, but wicked, perhaps profitable delight, what
aid will your poor, abused, tongue-tied, narcotized
conscience be able to afford? You will be on the
brink of destruction. Like the ancient Romans when
they had banished their noblest and only chief capable
of saving them from their terrible enemies, the Gauls,
you will be counted happy if, like them, you can recall your deliverer to its seat of authority in season
to save yourself from ruin. Is it prudent to run the
fearful risk?
Many persons there are whose pride of character,
or, as they would improperly name it, self-respect,
restrains them from doing mean, degrading, or criminal actions. They partake of the spirit of a Scotchman named DOUGLAS.   This fool-hardy hero commanded a British ship-of-war, and being stationed in
the river Medway to resist the advance of a Dutch
fleet, he was ordered to defend his ship to the last 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 61
extremity, but in no case to retire from his position.
Bravely he fought, until his ship took fire; but even
then, when the most rigorous authority could require
no more, he refused to quit her deck, and perished in
the flames, exclaiming, " A Douglas was never
known to quit his post without orders!"
In this scion of a noble house pride of character
was stronger than the love of life. In some minds it
is sufficiently strong to restrain them from degrading
pleasures and from dishonorable actions under ordinary circumstances. Possibly it is so in you, my
reader. Your pride takes fire at the bare suggestion
that you will ever become the victim of those vices
which degrade and plunge men and women into
shame. Panoplied in pride of character, you feel
like an unlucky hero, named ANXUR, in Virgil's
Eneis:
"Anxur had boasted much of magic charms,
And thought he wore impenetrable arms;"
but when he met the Trojan hero in the strife of bat
tle, his boasted arms were bootless to protect him.
Eneas saw him, and
"At Anxur's shield he drove, and at one blow
Both shield and arm to ground together go."
*
-W
a 
62     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
And thus it may be with your pride of character.
Under ordinary temptations it may preserve you;
but it is the misfortune of most who elect the world
to be their god, that circumstances are created by
their sinful pursuits which bring them into conflict
with overwhelming temptations, before which they
fall as swiftly and easily as did the boastful Anxur
beneath the sword of stern Eneas.
Take for illustration the sad example of that wretched traitor, BENEDICT ARNOLD. Favored by nature with
brilliant military talents, and by gentle providences
with favorable opportunities, he found himself in the
prime of life a patriot general, a popular and honored
soldier, the husband of a beautiful wife, and the possessor of an income ample enough to satisfy every
reasonable want.
But Benedict Arnold had long cherished an inordinate self-esteem. Prosperity stimulated its growth,
and caused it to become his evil genius.  Pride,
vanity, and ambition, took entire possession of his
soul. To maintain a splendid establishment he sacrificed his property. And just then, when his pride of
character ought to have held him back from wrong,
he was tempted to dishonest peculations in his dis
- il 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 63
bursements of the public money. Discovered and
reprimanded by order of Congress, his now gloomy
soul gave birth to purposes of revenge. Pride of
character controlled him no more, for avarice and revenge tore it up by the roots. Then he chose a
traitor's destiny, and sought, as you know, to sell his
country for paltry place and paltrier gold. His plans
were confounded. He fled, and gained a general's
commission in the British army, and abundant gold;
yet with these gains there came a new-born nation's
hatred and the scorn of an indignant world. Never
did mortal man start in life with greater pride of
character, and never did mortal man go to his grave
with more of shame and infamy than this same Benedict Arnold, the traitor.
Such is the weakness of pride of character, even
in an extraordinary man, when strong temptations,
like armed men, enter his soul.  How then, my dear
young reader, can you rely with anything like confidence on your pride of character for protection against
those mighty assaults on the- passions to which a
worldly life will assuredly expose you?
But you feel no inclination to perpetrate those acts
which lead to disgrace? Probably you do not. Your 
64     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
master passion is not yet fully grown. Your hour
of conflict is not yet. Does that prove it will never
come? May the spark be despised because it is not
yet a devouring flame? Look into your heart not for
a present inclination to dangerous vices, but for the
presence of those tendencies which lead men into the
circumstances which beget uncontrollable lusts.
A gentleman in India once reared a tiger's cub.
His kindness seemed to eradicate the ferocity of its
nature, and it grew up docile as a pet dog. One day
its owner, being alone with it in his library, caressed
it and gave it his hand to lick. The rough tongue of
the animal grazed his skin and gave it its first taste
of blood. Then its ferocious nature awaked. Fury
gleamed from its eye, and couching itself it made
ready to spring upon its master. Fortunately the
gentleman had a loaded pistol on his table, and saved
his life by shooting his former pet.
Let this fact illustrate a valuable truth. Let the
sleeping ferocity of the tiger, waked by the taste of
blood, stand for a figure of that slumbering passion in
your breast which needs but the taste of strong
temptation to rise into a terrible life, and to break
over all the feeble defenses which a maltreated con 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 65
science, and pride of character, may have built up in
your soul to protect its virtue. One moment of
triumphant passion may suffice to undo the work of
half a lifetime. And you, have you not this tiger in
your breast?
* But you have established moral habits, and you
rely on their protection, perhaps. Well, I congratulate you heartily. Good moral habits are very desirable guardians, and if they have been formed in
obedience to the conscience and the religious affections, they are as powerful to protect as the angelic
forces which guarded Elisha on the hill of Dothan.
Search, then, beloved reader, for the origin of these
boasted moral habits. Scrutinize them narrowly.
They may be little better than spies and traitors in the
uniform of loyalists. Seize them therefore. Search
them.   Challenge them as to whence they came and
whither they tend! See if the best of them are not
merely negative virtues after all-that is, you habitually avoid certain forms of sin because you have no
natural inclination for them. For example, you are
not a miser, because your nature is not avaricious;
you are not a spendthrift, because your nature inclines
you to save rather than to waste; yoa are not given
5 
66     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
to noise and quarrel, because your nature inclines you
to quiet and peace. These, with kindred habits, hardly
merit the name of virtues, because they require no
effort-no earnest willing. They are little else than
the passive outgrowths of your mental constitution,
just as docility, fidelity, peacefulness are the result
of organization in some of the inferior animals.
Search, again, and see if others of your habits do
not proceed from your education, your life associations, your pride of character, your self-esteem, your
love of approbation, your fear of obloquy or physical
suffering, or some other merely selfish motive? Look
closely and I think you will discover SELF to be the
sovereign to whom these boasted moral habits do
homage. The bare fact that you choose the world,
instead of the Creator, to be your supreme good, demonstrates that self is king in your soul, and therefore
lord over your habits. You do not, because you cannot, serve both God and mammon. Confessedly, God
does not reign in you, and therefore SELFISHNESS must.
But are selftsh habits reliable protectors in those
conflicts  with  the  passions  to which  you  stand
exposed? Remember, these passions make their
appeal to that very selfishness from which your 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 67
present habits have sprung.   Self-will, self-interest,
self-pleasing-not respect for God  and duty-have
made you what you are. What may not happen,
therefore, if, in the exigencies of your future life, the
now half-awakened passion of acquisitiveness, or am bition, or amativeness, should plead with self-interest
or self-pleasing for dangerous and unlawful indulgen ces. Would your old habits be likely to resist the
pleadings of their own parents, think you? They
might; and so might a fence of rushes check the
march of the awful avalanche; yet who would feel
like building his house beside such a fence, with the
snow  masses  trembling above  him, ready to fall
under the tread of a passing chamois?
It cannot be; selfish habits cannot protect you from
the assaults of temptations which appeal to the very
selfishness which gave them birth.   On the contrary,
such habits serve to betray your soul by preparing it
for defeat in the hour of trial.   What  are these
habits but repeated acts of fealty to the dominant
principle of selfishness?  What  are they but the
jailers of your worldly mind, binding its will with
chains of steel to the throne of selfishness, and keeping vigilant watch and ward over it, lest it should flee 
68     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
its bondage, and achieve its freedom by submission
to God and duty 2
These questions must be answered in the affirmative.  What then? Why  it follows that you have
already parted with your freedom to resist the solicitations of selfish passions. Your moral habits, of
which you boast, are but the chains with which the
selfish or carnal mind has bound you. Like Paul's
unrenewed man, you are carnal, sold under sin. Let
me illustrate your condition.
There is an ancient tale which tells of a wandering
princess who found an asylum in a deserted palace.
Pleased with its quiet, she sought rest from her
fatigues in its deserted chambers, and made it her
temporary home. Day after day she walked up and
down its grand old halls, and wandered through its
vast apartments, thinking herself free and alone. Its
gates stood open as when she entered, only a spider
had stretched his fine, light, almost invisible web
across the portals. This is a feeble obstacle, and the
princess feels no doubt of her power to brush it aside
with her delicate fingers when she is ready to resume
her journey.
At length she resolves to quit the place. She 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 69
raises the web very easily, but there is a second one
behind. She pushes this aside, when a third bars her
way. This is lifted, but there is a fourth, a fifth, a
sixth!  Boldly she pushes them aside, but still web
succeeds web.   Her strength is put forth until she
is ready to drop with fatigue. But her heart is bold
and she struggles still. Vain struggles! There is no
end to these obstructing webs. They are fine, light,
but mighty in their self-renewing strength. They exhaust both her power and her courage. She gives up
the contest. Her hands fall listlessly by her side.
The princess is a prisoner!
Poor young princess! Poor young worldling!
I,ike her, you move with pleasure in a palace of
beauty and delight, cherishing the fancy that you are
free to go or to remain, to drink deeply or lightly of
the wine of selfish indulgences, or to abstain altogether
if you so will.  And like her you see nothow selfish
habits are weaving webs in your path, nor how one
sinful habit leads to another, until the gorgeous world
of your sinful choice will become your Bastile, from
which you will find no egress save by the low gateway
of faith in Christ, or by the "sorrow of the world,"
and eternal death. 
70     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Do you doubt this view of your liberty? Test it,
then, by an experiment on yourself.   Free yourself
from the bands of your favorite pleasures. Break
away from your chosen haunts and from your elect
companions. Abandon the god of this world, and
attempt to take your first steps in the path of religious duty, which is the way of true virtue! Try
to do these things with all the moral might of
your unassisted nature, and see if you do not find
yourself the slave of your own selfish lusts-see if
with Paul's unregenerate man you are not soon led to
cry out, "I How to perform that which is good I find
not," and if, persisting in the trial, you do not at
length groan out your despair by crying, " O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the
body of this death?"
Trust not, therefore, for security against the great
and terribl liabilities of your earthly career, to your
moral habits, your pride of character, or your faithful
but much maltreated conscience.   They are not reliable guardians over your safety. They cannot grapple with such foes to your life-success as crowd the
highways of the gay world you have chosen to serve.
If you will trust to them you will, in all probability, 
SOCIAL HAZARDS OF SINFUL LIFE. 71
be left to fall into some folly which will be the evil
genius of your life. Your vanity, or pride, or love of
power, or lust of gain, your social affections, or your
quick imperious temper, your envy, malice, or
revenge, your dread of poverty, your fear of ridicule,
or some other selfish desire, passion, or propensity,
will drag you down from the serene heights of peaceful innocence into the gloomy valleys of mental
wretchedness, and, it may be, into the still gloomier
depths of poverty, shame, and possibly of crime.
Pause, then, beloved young worldling, in your gay
career. Listen to the warning voice of him who,
knowing the path you tread, says of it: " There is a
way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end
thereof are the ways of death." Consider also these
lines of old FRANCIS QUARLES:
" 0 what a crocodilian world is this,
Composed of treacheries and ensnaring wiles!
She clothes destruction in a formal kiss,
And lodges death in her deceitful smiles;
She hugs the soul she hates; and then does prove
The veriest tyrant where she vows to love;
And is a serpent most when most she seems a dove." 
72     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
CHAPTER IV.
LINKED ARMOR FOR TEMPTED YOUNG SOULS.
NAPOLEON, that most daring of warriors, rarely
ventured on the hazardous measures which characterized his campaigns, without preparing beforehand for
every conceivable emergency. His most brilliant
victories were preceded by the most studiously prepared precautions against the possibilities of defeat.
This habit gave him and his army confidence in the
hour of peril.  His failure to abide by it in his Russian campaign led to the disasters of his retreat from
Moscow. Had he begun his splendid military career
with such neglect, it would have been broken off at
its beginning.   He would have found his Waterloo
at Austerlitz.
Let me persuade you, my dear reader, to adopt his
habit of precaution in the great campaign of life.
You have seen that, in common with all your species,
your nature has tendencies to acts which may involve 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS.
you in social shame, and bring you to a disreputable
grave. You have also seen how totally unreliable
your present means of protection are. Seeing then
that you are exposed to so serious a danger, and are
so unprepared to meet it, you cannot be without a
strong desire to know on what you may rely for viotory in this inevitable battle. To suppose the contrary would be to offer an insult to your reason, because it would presume you to be indifferent to one
of your most important life interests. You are not
thus indifferent. You have a desire to avoid the ruin of
your earthly well-being. Having made a prosperous
entrance upon the stage of life, you would like to
make your exit from it at last without dishonor.
Suffer me, therefore, to point you to the religion of
Jesus Christ as the only reliable means of self-conquest, and of victory over those tempters of the passions, desires, and affections which seek your ruin.
Hear what the Holy Spirit saith to you on this subject:
"Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world.
Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that
believeth that Jesus is the Son of God? He that is
begotten of God keepeth himself, and that wicked one
toucheth him not."
73 
74     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
These are the words of Divine wisdom. They
teach you that a renewed heart sustained by faith in
Christ, and that only, can secure you that victory
over yourself and the world which, as I have shown,
is the condition of your moral safety. Let me now
show you how a renewed heart fits its possessor for
successful conflict in the battle of life. Two facts,
taken from the lives of two holy men, will bring
out one of its methods.
Three hundred years ago a weaver's apprentice,
named WILLIAM HUNTER, was cast into prison by the
ferocious BISHoP BONNER for reading the Bible and
professing his faith in its doctrines. After being confined in the stocks and loaded with chains, through
nine weary months of life, in a wretched dungeon, the
youth was carried before the bishop.
"If you recant," said that mitered monster, "I will
give you forty pounds and set you up in business."
The youth modestly but firmly declined the offer.
"I will make you steward of my own house,"
added Bonner, putting all the gentleness of which
his brutal nature was capable into his voice and
manner.
"But, my lord," replied the lad, "if you cannot 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS.
persuade my conscience by Scripture, I cannot find it
in my  heart to turn from  God for the love of the
world; for I count all worldly things but loss in
comparison with the love of Christ."
The bishop was enraged: "Will neither threats
nor promises avail?" he cried. "Then away with
him to the fire!"
And to the fire he went, firmly, fearlessly, joyfully.
"I am not afraid!" he shouted from amid the flames,
and his noble spirit ascended to heaven.
My second fact relates to GORDON HALL. God
called him to the work of missions, and he went to
the East Indies. After a time his influence with the
natives became powerful. This, with his other qualifications, made his services desirable to the East India
Company. They offered him thirteen thousand dollars a year if he would quit his missionary work and
enter their service. He refused. They then offered
him fifty dollars a week for occasional aid. This also
he declined in these noble words:
"No money can tempt me to relinquish my
work!"
In these two facts you cannot fail to see the more
than regal sway which conscience maintained over the
75 
76     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
souls of these good men. With the martyr's fire on
one side, and the favor of a rich and powerful bishop
on the other, young Hunter's conscience made him
superior both to the fear of death and the attractions
of gold. It bound him to the post of duty, albeit it
was in the midst of flames.
So also in the case of Gordon Hall. A high and
honorable office tempted his ambition; a life of light
labor pleaded with his love of ease; mammon appealed to his love of gain. All these combined to
induce him to quit the post of duty, which was set in
the midst of toils and poverty. But his conscience
bound him firmly to the right, and kept him from forsaking his Master's work.
Hence, in these examples you see an effect of the
regenerated life. It quickens, illuminates, and enthrones the conscience, so that it is not that narcotized, abused, and enfeebled thing which it is in the
unregenerate breast. There, as I have shown, it is a
slumbering slave. In the renewed man it is an active
sovereign.  Christ has set it free from the thrall of
the passions, throned it, crowned it, and endowed it
as his viceroy with authority over the will and the
affections.  The illumination of the Spirit has given 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS.
it quick and far-reaching perceptions of right and
wrong.  It is, therefore, a POWER in the converted
soul, and can be relied upon in the fierce conflicts
which await every man in the great battle-fields of
life. Of a man in whom conscience is thus enthroned
it may with propriety be said:
" Rather hope to shake
The mountain-pine, whose twisting fibers clasp
The earth, deep-rooted! Rather hope to shake
The Scythian Taurus from his central base,"
than to allure him into the forbidden paths which lead
to ruin.
It has been finely said by a poet that
"Each man should think himself an act of God,
His mind a thought, his life a breath of God.
And each should try, by great thoughts and good deeds,
To show the most of heaven he hath in him."
Another poet, writi'ng of the human soul, has said:
"Immortal! what can strike the sense so strong
As this the soul?  It thunders to the thought,
Reason amazes, gratitude o'erwhelms.
Roused at the sound, the exulting soul ascends
And breathes her native air, an air that feeds
Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires,
Quick kindles all that is divine within us,
Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars."
77 
78     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Such are the thoughts which dwell in the hearts of
pious men. They constantly view themselves as the
offspring, the redeemed, the beloved of God. They
think much of their immortal nature and destiny.
They regard themselves as the "sons of God,"  as
having the divine Jesus for their " elder brother,"
and as being "' heirs of God and joint heirs with Jesus
Christ." These great thoughts are habitually present
with them, refreshing them, and acting with indescribable power upon the growth of their characters.
Can you not readily perceive, my dear reader, how
such thoughts as these tend to beget a degree of selfrespect which cannot fail to act as a restraining power
in the soul?  Will he, think you, who feels such a
consciousness of the essential value of his nature, of
his infinitely exalted relationships, and of his noble
destiny, be likely to cast himself and his prospects
away for such momentary pleasures and perishable
possessions as make their appeal to the senses, appetites, and passions of men? Will he not rather repel
such temptations with such questions as these: "Shall
I throw this immortal soul away for a mortal joy?
Shall I, for a moment of forbidden delight, dash the
cup, filled with the pure nectar of eternal bliss, from 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS.
my lips? Shall I, who have been bought by the
precious blood of Jesus Christ, and who am a child
of God, degrade myself to the level of beasts and
wicked angels?'
Now as a sinner you cannot be the possessor of
this self-respect either in kind or degree. You may
have pride of character, self-esteem, love of approbation, and up to a certain point they may afford you a
doubtful protection; but, unless you become pious,
that powerful self-respect which springs from deep
convictions of the value of your spiritual nature cannot be yours. Why it cannot is clear as a sunbeam.
For, so long as you are purposed to remain a sinner,
you will necessarily put all thoughts of your immortal nature and destiny as far away from your mind as
possible. Your human relations, your present pleasures, your earthly affairs, are and will be the chosen
themes of your thoughts, to the exclusion of those
ideas which are seeds of true, saving self-respect.
Thus, you perceive, the regenerate life gives its possessor an ennobling self-respect, which, while it exalts
his character, becomes as linked armor to his soul in
its battles with those things which first demoralize
and then destroy.
79 
80     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Love to Christ is also a principle of power in
the heart of a pious youth. Let me illustrate its
operation.
Two boys, the one a peasant, the other the son of
a British nobleman, were tenderly attached to each
other. The youthful lord was consumptive. As his
disease progressed he grew feeble, until be was unable to leave his bed. Daily his peasant friend stood
beside his bed and cheered him with many a smile
and pleasant word. One day the sick boy wished for
some blue-bells fresh from the hillside on which the
boys had so often rambled in company. Eager to
gratify his dying friend, the peasant boy hasted away,
climbed the hill-top, and plucked the brightest and
best of the flowers. At length he saw a beauty growing far out on the edge of a deep ravine. Thinking
only of giving pleasure to his friend, regardless of
himself, he stepped to pluck the coveted flower, when
lo, he grew dizzy and fell ten fathoms deep into the
gulf below! There his friends found him lifeless,
with the wild flowers firmly clutched in his dea
hand.! The dear boy had fallen a sacrifice to the love
he bore to his sick friend!
In this simple incident you see how affection moved
I
I 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS.   81
that peasant boy to forget himself through strong de sire to give pleasure to his friend. First, it led him
to deny himself his usual out-door sports and confine
himself to the sick-chamber of his companion. Next,
it gave wings to his feet when his sick playmate desired the wild flowers. And then it quieted every
fear of danger on the edge of the ravine, and led him
even into the very mouth of death. Was not his
love a principle of power?
It is even so with that love for Christ which is begotten in the heart of him who is regenerated. His
love for Christ makes it easy for him to do what
pleases the Master, and to avoid what displeases him.
When the breath of temptation stirs the seas of inborn
passion to a state of tumult, when favoring opportunity invites unlawful indulgences, and when all that is
attractive in the pomp of life, in the baits of ambition,
and in the enticements of gain, pleads with his selfishness until his WILL trembles like a magnetic needle,
then his love for Christ becomes a principle of power
within him. He thinks of his Saviour, and his desire
to please him grows so strong as to overpower all
other desires. As the beloved image rises before his
vision, his heart glows with the warmth of renewed
6 
82     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
affection, his will waxes strong, and he snaps the bands
of temptation as Samson broke the cords with which
the craft of Delilah had bound him. Animated by
this love, he can do or not do, suffer or endure what
would be impossible to his nature without it. If his
love is deep and strong he can say with the holy
RUTHERFORD: "If it were possible that heaven, yea,
ten heavens, were laid in the balance with Christ, I
would think the smell of his breath above them all."
With such a love, he can say with faithful PAUL: "I
can do all things through Christ that strengtheneth
me."
"Ah, how skillfiul grows the hand
That obeyeth love's command I
It is the heart and not the brain,
That to the highest doth attain;
And he that followeth love's behest
Far exceedeth all the rest."
Thus you see, dear young friend, that the possession of piety would endow you with a principle of
power, of which it may be said, as David remarked
of the sword of Goliah, "there is none like it," except,
indeed, that direct help from God himself which always assists the disciples of Christ when engaged in
their conflicts with evil and the evil one.
k 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS.  83
There is a beautiful passage in the book of Job
which is worthy of your attention at this point. The
poor patriarch was afflicted with sudden bereavement,
with poverty, with the fretful suggestions of his un amiable wife, and with the unjust reflections of his
well-meaninig but mistaken friends.  Thus harassed,
the good man looked to the Almighty, and taking a
comprehensive view of his holy character, asked,
"Will he plead against me with his great power?"
Then calling to mind the goodness of the God he
loved, he answered his own question thus: "No; but
he would put strength into me!"
Sublime faith! Put strength into me! Delightful
assurance! Yet that is what God actually does to all
who love him. Listen! Hear what he says to believers. These are his words: " Fear thou not: for
I am with thee. I will strengthen thee; yea, I will
help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right
hand of my righteousness.!*the Lord thy God will
hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will
help thee!"
That this help is all-powerful you may learn by consulting the experience of good men in every age.  The
celebrated COLONEL GARDINER is a notable example.
1 
84     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
He spent his youth in a career of splendid but criminal follies. At thirty-one he was a prince among
profligates, a chief among the worst of sinners, as
godless as a demon. A tract awakened him. A
dream terrified him. He repented, believed, was
saved. Having been so long devoted to evil habits,
it was natural for him to fear that temptations to his
former pleasures would be too strong for his renewed
nature to resist.   But instead of this, so mightily
did God help him, that "those licentious pleasures
which had before been his heaven became now absolutely his aversion!" Speaking of this remarkable
fact, his biographer says:
"I cannot but be astonished that he should be so
wonderfully sanctified in body as well as in soul, as
that from that hour he should find a constant disinclination to, and abhorrence of those criminal sensualities to which he fancied he was before so invariably
impelled by his very constitution, that he was used
strangely to think and to say that Omnipotence itself
could not reform him without destroying that body
and giving him another!" But it did help him to reform that ill-used body, and thus made him a notable
example of the truth, that God not only promises to
i.
I 
ARMOR FOR TEMPTED SOULS. 85
help, but that he actually puts strength into those
who serve him, so that they are able to "overcome
when they are tempted," and to come off "more than
conquerors through Him who loved them and gave
himself for them."
Perceive you not, therefore, beloved youth, the ad
vantage which piety will give you in your struggles
with those tendencies of your nature which endanger
your moral safety in this life? What means of selfprotection have you, as an unrenewed soul, that can be
compared with the quickened conscience, the genuine
self-respect, the holy love, the divine aid, which give
so much moral power to the pious man? You have
nothing, absolutely nothing. Come, then, my fellow
immortal, be persuaded by your hopes of escaping the
degradations which so often follow a life of sin this
side the grave, to give yourself to Christ. By the fate
of millions of ruined immortals, by your fears of
social shame, and your dread of heart agony, I beseech you give your heart to Christ.  Cry to God,
saying, " Hold thou me up and I shall be safe."  God
will hear your cry, and then you will exclaim with
David, "Thou art my hiding-place and my shield: I
hope in thy word." 
86     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
CHIIAPTER V.
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
"EVERY roof," says EMERSON, "is agreeable to the
eye until it is lifted, and then we find tragedy, and
moaning women, and hard-eyed husbands, and deluges
of Lethe."
In somewhat similar vein LONGFELLOW sings these
sweetly sad lines:
" There is no flock, however watch'd and tended,
But one dead lamb is there;
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair."
"Every man," says BIsHOP HALL, "hath his turn
of sorrow, whereby - some more, some less - all men
are in their times miserable. I never yet could meet
with the man that complained not of somewhat."
"Man," saith the words of Holy Writ, "is born
unto trouble as the sparks fly upward."
Thus, you see, philosopher, poet, theologian, and
is 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
the inspired word, agree in teaching that every human being must drink the bitter waters of grief, must
tread upon the burning sands of the parched desert
of affliction, during his journey through life. There is
no escape for any man, for sorrow is the heir-loom of
the human race. Physical disease, domestic infelicity,
pecuniary trial, overwhelming misfortunes, painful dis.
appointments, ill-requited friendship, mental disquiet.
ude, anxious cares, and cruel bereavements, stand, like
fierce warriors, at the door of every man's habitation,
ready to do the bidding of that high Providence which
superintends human affairs, and metes out chastisements and retributions to all. These warriors do not
all cross every man's threshold; neither do the same
ones enter every house.  But this much is certain,
some one or more of them is sure to cross the precincts of every household, and to pierce the side of
every creature of mortal birth.
You, then, beloved youth, must sooner or later feel
the smniart of the weapons of these providential warriors. Healthful, buoyant, and hopeful as you now are,
it is difficult to impress you with this truth. Nevertheless, unless you are to be a sole exception in the his
tory of your race -and of this you cannot even
87 
88     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
dream-you will, eje many years have passed, be
the victim of heart-oppressing griefs.
Permit me then to ask you on what prop you
intend to lean when the afflictions of your coming
years shall weigh like a mighty burden on your
trembling heart? By rejecting piety you cut your self off from Divine support in your days of grief.
Tell me, therefore, nay, tell your own self-injured
spirit, to what it is to look in the years of coming
sorrow.
Suppose, for instance, it should be your lot to suffer
what is a very common fate in this land of commercial enterprise and speculation, the sudden wreck of
your business affairs after enjoying years of success.
Imagine your business bark well launched, wisely
freighted, and prudently managed. She makes many
a voyage, returning from each successive adventure
more richly laden than ever before, until you begin
to grow rich. Your prosperity continues long. You
reach the full maturity of your manhood. You think
of relaxing a little from the pressure of business
occupations, for you are satisfied with your success,
and have the means of living in calm repose the
remainder of your days. But just as you attain the 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
height of your ambition, the commercial sky is suddenly overcast; the whirlwind of monetary revulsion
sweeps fiercely over the seas of business, tearing the
sails of your richly laden bark to tatters, and driving
her a dismasted wreck upon the rock of insolvency.
You behold the battered fragments and exclaim, "I
am a ruined man!"
In that hour, when the convulsions of a day
shall swallow up the toils of a long life, and leave
you, on account of exhausted powers, without hope
of recovering your wealth and social position, what
will you do without a God? What power will sustain your sinking heart? Whence will come the fortitude, the courage, the energy, which can bear you
bravely on to the victory of mental repose through
such a trial?
Perhaps you think your own strength of mrind will
be sufficient to sustain you in such adversity. Vain
idea! Know you not that in such great emergencies
the most self-reliant minds become weak, timid, paralyzed, and confounded. A fearful sense of impotence steals over them. Their reason reels, and
shrinking from the terrible conflict with Providence,
they either sink into imbecile melancholy, or
89 
90     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
plumge madly and unbidden into the mysterious
presence-chamber of Deity.    Let me give you a
sad example of the latter result.
There were two merchant princes, brothers and
partners, one of whom resided in New Orleans and
the other in Mobile. Their wealth was immense,
their experience large, their skill uncommon.    A
great monetary hurricane swept over the seas of commerce, and many a mercantile house perished, but
their proud bark defied the storm and rode through
it unharmed.
Time passed, and at a period when the business
world was generally prospering, these merchant
princes suddenly found their affairs embarrassed, and
they failed.  Overwhelmed by this great trial, one of
the brothers plunged, like a madman, into the waters,
and entered the presence of his Maker a shivering
suicide.  The other, on  learning what his brother
had done, followed his guilty example, and also
rushed unbidden into the Eternal Presence! Thus
these men, so strong, so self-reliant, and so long
prosperous, found their great strength dissolved to
weakness in the hour which tried their souls.
A scarcely less melancholy, but more striking
i,
-1 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
illustration of the insufficiency of mere mental
strength to sustain a mortal man in the hour of unexpected calamity, is found in the life of Napoleon.
On the day preceding the battle of Borodino, Napoleon
was in excellent health and most joyous spirits.  Late
in the evening he received a dispatch informing him
that his troops in Spain had been badly beaten at Salamanca. Immediately a singular change passed over
him. In that disaster he saw the index finger of fate
pointing to his final overthrow, and he was troubled.
He retired to his couch but could not sleep. He arose,
talked incoherently, ordered three days' rations to be
distributed among his guard at midnight, and seemed
to be consuming with fever of mind and body. The
next day he was irresolute, ill-humored, and inferior
to himself on the field of battle. In fact, the,news
from Salamanca overwhelmed him, and with all his
strength of mind he staggered beneath it like a
drunken man. It drove him to the brink of insanity,
He showed very similar confusion of mind in the
hours which preceded his abdication; and when his
power was finally taken from him, his great heart
grew sick, and on that sea-girt rock where British
caution confined him, he pined away, and died as
91 
92     P LEASANT PATHWAYS.
much of a broken heart as of the diseases which
preyed upon his well-knit frame.
If, therefore, the strength of this gigantic soul, and
of those lofty-minded merchants, was insufficient for
their support in the great emergencies of their lives,
what can you expect but to be crushed beneath your
sorrows if you dare to confront them without the
aid of God?
Perhaps you think that the sympathy of friends
will give courage to your heart and energy to your
will in your hours of calamity. But are you sure
that adversity will not prove an enchanter's wand, and
transform your friends into strangers? Is it not possible that, as the prodigal was abandoned, in his hour
of misfortune, by those who smiled on him in his
days of plenty, so may you be forsaken by those who
now profess undying attachment to you? The falsehood of friendships is proverbial, and when the
shadows of great trials darken your path, it may
be your lot to meet
" That weary, wond'ring, disavowing look"
which prosperous selfishness knows but too well how
to give those whose fallen fortunes render their
friendship no longer desirable. In that case the staff
'i
,'I 
TRE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
on which you lean will become a serpent to wound
your hand, and send its poison with throbs of agony
into your bursting heart. Then you will comprehend
the meaning of the poet, who, speaking of friendship,
says:
"Wake up the countless dead; ask every ghost
Whose influence tortured or consoled the most;
How each pale specter of the host would turn
From the fresh laurel and the glorious urn,
To point where rots beneath a nameless stone
Some heart in which had ebb'd and flow'd its own?I
Ay, it is even so.  From our dearest friends come
our sweetest pleasures and our bitterest woes; for
what grief can be compared with that which is caused
by the discovery of heartlessness in those whom we
have loved and trusted? There is no sorrow like it,
as David confessed when his harp wailed in melancholy unison with that bitter cry, " Had it been all
enemy I could have borne it!"
I know you persuade yourself that your friends are
true and will not so forsake you in your troubles. Perhaps they are, and yet it may be they are not. But
admit them to be to you as Damon to his Pythias, or
as Jonathan to David, how know you that they will
live until the dark days of your'adversity begin? or,
93 
94    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
if they live, how assure yourself that they too will
not be as deeply immersed in the sea of trouble as
yourself?  Are they not the children of mortality?
Is not their prosperity as uncertain as your owni?
How then can you wisely lean on human friendship
to sustain you in the day of your great need? Would
you advise a lame man to lean on a reed?  Would
you venture to cross a storm-swept lake in a boat of
gossamer? Why then do you do what is equally foolish,
rely on human friends whose lives are but as a vapor,
who wither like grass and fade like flowers?  Remember, my friend, the Creator of all men has said: " Cursed
be the man who trusteth it man, and makethflesh his
arm, and whose heart departeth from the Lord."
If it should be your lot to be bereaved, as many are,
of friends, lovers, and relatives, to whom will you
look for consolation?   Death sometimes  enters a
man's social circle as the woodman does his field,
cutting down every ancient tree and tender sapling,
and leaving him, like a solitary tree, to cast his
companionless shadow across the silent scene. Here
is an illustration:
The master of a ship died, leaving a widow almost
penniless, a sickly daughter, and a heroic son.
s 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
Deprived of her heart's truest love, the widow turned
with affection and hope to her son. His filial eyes
flashed responsive love, and his heart nerved itself to
the task of comforting and supporting his mother and
sister. He trod the deck of his dead father's ship, and
gave large promise of early ability to fill his place as
captain. But sickness smote his noble form while at
sea. He returned a pale-faced invalid. Two days
after his arrival at home his mother bent over his bed
in speechless grief, his fragile sister sat weeping at the
window. Suddenly the young man opened his languid eyes, and slowly said: "The- ship-is-sinking!"  His eyes then closed forever.   He was dead!
And  with his death the widow's hopes were all
wrecked. Her last earthly helper was dead. She
was bereft of all save the helpless girl, whose sobbing
grief only dropped wormwood into the gall which
was in the cup she was forced to drink.
Place yourself, my dear reader, without Divine
comfort, in that widow's place, and tell me how you
would bear up such a load of woe. Do not evade by
saying you may never be so bereaved, because you
know it is almost certain, if you live to mature life,
that you will be called to stand beside the death-beds
95 
96     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
of many, if not all, whom you now love best.  Your
patriarchal father, your precious mother, or those
sharers with yourself of that sweet love-nest, a
mother's bosom, your brothers and sisters, or that
dearer self, your beloved companion, or that beautiful image of yourself, your own dear babe, or all of
them may pass through the gateway of death before
your eyes. What will you do in those terrible hours
of grief? With no heaven-born faith to whisper
God's loving promises in your ear, to pour the cordials of hope into your wounded heart, to infuse
more than mortal strength into your staggering
spirit, what will you do? Who will comfort you,
when in your sorrow you ask,
1 And shall I never more see loving eyes
Look into mine until my dying day?"
With the lights of your earthly life put out, and no
beamings from heaven to illuminate your dwelling,
what, 0 what will you do? The words of men will
fall upon your ears like the creak of the rusty hinge
on your chamber door, and you will be comfortless.
Like the captive bird, dashing itself against the wires
of its cage, until its poor little head and wings are
sore and bleeding, you will bruise your heart against
i. 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
your great affliction. Perhaps you will exclaim, as
did an impatient lady in her bereavement, "God
gave me all, and took all from me. Fate, drop the
curtain; I can lose no more."
Or with EURIPIDES yOU will sigh: "My heart is
full of sorrow; there is no room for more."
Or, rising in malignant rebellion, you will wickedly
cry, with a bereaved deist: "I intend to do all I can
to revenge myself on the Almighty for the wrongs he
hath inflicted upon me!"
At best, as an irreligious man, you can but chafe
your bruised heart until it bleeds from every pore,
and at length tutor yourself into dogged submission,
feeling with one poet that
"When we have learn'd the very worst,
The spirit soon must yield or burst;"
and saying, perchance, with another:
"Mute
The camel labors with the heaviest load,
And the wolf dies in silence.
If they,
Things of ignoble or of savage mood,
Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay
May temper it to bear-it is but for a day."
But such submission will bring little comfort. It
will deaden the poignancy of your grief by harden                         7
97 
98     PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
ing your sensibilities, but it will leave your heart an
arid plain, without a stream to refresh it or a flower
to adorn it. O saddening prospect! O gloomy
afternoon of a life that had so bright and hopeful a
beginning! Pause, fond youth, and provide thyself
with a covert from these foreboded storms, with oil
for the healing of these inevitable heart-wounds,
with a holy Comforter for these hours of mortal
agony:
"Now in thy youth beseech of him
Who giveth, upbraiding not,
That his light in thy heart become not dim,
Nor his love be unforgot.
And thy God, in the darkest days, shall be
Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee."
There are many other forms in which affliction
may visit you, for it is a dragon with many heads.
You may, to suppose one more case, be made the
victim of some torturing disease, which may seize
you with a grasp as harsh as that of an executioner
of the Inquisition, and so severe as to thrill you with
exquisite pain, and so enduring that your slow wasting life may become one long agony. In such a case
of what value would wealth, friendship, human sympathy, mental strength, or aught else of earthly
IF
k 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
origin, be to your poor imprisoned spirit? Alas,
nothing!   Unsupported  by  Divine  comfort, your
inner life would be more painful than your outward
sufferings.   Lashed into a perpetual teimpest, your
feelings would dash against your trials, like angry
waves surging upon the rock-ribbed sides of an ocean
isle; and your soul, like a foundered ship, would sink
into a great deep of fathomless despair.
Having thus faithfully, though faintly, set before
you your prospects, as an impenitent sinner, under
the probable afflictions of coming life, let me now
lead you to the contemplation of a brighter picture,
by showing you what piety would do for you in such
afflictions as I have described.
At the battle of Wagram NAPoLEON rode slowly
along the front of his troops, mounted on a snowwhite charger. Shots were flying about him in every
direction, and many who beheld him expected every
moment to see him fall from his horse. But he rode
as undisturbed amid the horrors of that terrible
battle-field as he would have been at a mere parade.
Why  was this?  Napoleon believed in fate.  In his
opinion the ball that was to kill him was not cast; or
if it was, it was useless to attempt to escape its
~.*A.
99
k~ 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
range. This belief kept him calm in the midst of the
most appalling dangers.
In the battle-field of life, with changes, risks, dan      gers, and tToubles on every side, the pious man main      tains a similar but far nobler serenity of mind. His
mind is possessed by a sense of security. He feels
confident that no real harm can befall him. He may
have malignant enemies, business may be uncertain,
domestic trials like sharp arrows may pierce his
breast, disease may be tugging on the strings of his
life, the waters of affliction may be breaking in proud
waves against his dwelling, yet he feels safe. Why?
Does he, like Napoleon, believe in fate? Nay. But
he does believe that God is pledged to protect him.
"The eternal God is his refuge, and underneath are
the everlasting arms," and that God whom he trusts
has said to his heart, "Fear not; for I have redeemed
thee. I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine.
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with
thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow
thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt
not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon
thee." Isa. xliii, 1, 2. HIearing these words of assur      ance, he goes through the thick of life's battle, singing:
!:.....
100 
THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
"Go, then, earthly fame and treasure;
Come disaster, scorn, and pain;
In Thy service pain is pleasure,
With thy favor loss is gain.
I have called thee, Abba, Father,
I have set my heart on thee;
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All MUST work for good to me."
A dew-drop, falling into the sea, beheld the wild
waves with terror, and cried, "I perish in this grave."
But an open shell received it, and that drop of dew
"Into a pearl of marvelous beauty grew."
Shortly after a diver tore the shell from its oceanbed, and then the pearl cried, "Now I perish quite!"
But scarcely had it finished its complaint, before it
found itself shining the "chief jewel in a monarch's
diadem."
In this beautiful fable you see one interpretation
which piety would enable you to put upon your
afflictions. They might alarm you at first, but when
at length you fully comprehended that as the dew.
drop grew into a pearl through its dreaded immersion, so your troubles would grow into a "far more
exceeding and eternal weight of glory," you would
extract joy from grief, and pleasure from pain.
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Would it not sweeten every bitter drop in the cup
of your affliction to see in it the element of one of
the pearls of your future crown?
Another use of affliction which you would discover
is suggested by the following illustration.
An adventurous hunter, having visited the interior
of Africa in search of game, often noticed a little gray
bird twittering and chattering on the branch of the
nearest tree. It seemed greatly excited, and anxious
to attract his attention. When it had fairly won his
notice, it darted forward in wavy lines, still keeping
up its incessant twitter, as if inviting him to follow its
flight. Allured by its strange manner, he one day
followed it until it reached a hollow tree. Hovering
over this tree a moment, it pointed to it with its bill,
and then, quietly perching on a neighboring branch,
watched  his movements.   Guided  by  the action
of the bird the hunter looked into the hollow of
the tree, and found a nest of wild bees well stocked
with honey and wax. He afterward learned that
this little chatterer was named  the "honey-bird,"
and that the natives were in the habit of relying
upon its guidance when in quest of the sweet stores
of the bees.
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THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
Now, just what that honey-bird was to the hunter,
affliction will be to you if you become a Christian.
It will attract you from selfish pursuits to sweet
stores of religious joy; it will lead you out of yourself and into God. In your earlier experiences you
may be perplexed at times to know its purpose, but
you will soon learn to recognize it as your heavenly
Father's messenger-bird to conduct you to richer storehouses of his grace, and you will learn with Paul to
say: " He chastened us for our profyt, that we might be
partakers of his holiness." Is not this perception of
the purpose of affliction also calculated to promote
your joy in grief?
An example or two of believers in affliction, taken
from actual life, will convince you that these views
are not mere theories. Look first at a Christian on
the rack of long protracted pain.
Many years ago a poor cripple had his abode in a
comfortless hovel near the entrance to a large church.
His limbs were so paralyzed he could neither sit upright in bed, nor raise his hand to his mouth, nor turn
from side to side. Could outward circumstances be
more unfavorable to happiness?  Yet this poor SERVULUS was one of the happiest men in the place.
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Unable to read himself, he begged every pious men
who visited him to read to him from his Bible, and
thus made himself acquainted with most of its con tents.  Amid unceasing sufferings, and through many
years, he spent most of the time in praising God.
And when his hour of departure arrived; he joined his
watchers in singing a psalm. Suddenly he ceased
and cried aloud:
"Hush! hear you not how the praises of God re sound in heaven?" and forsaking his deformed earthly
tabernacle, he became the occupant of a mansion in
heaven. Did a wicked man ever endure such pain
and poverty as this with such patience, contentment,
and joyfulness?  Never, since God made man!
Now go with me for a moment, in imagination,
into yonder humble cottage  Hush!  Tread softly!
We are in the chamber of human suffering. See that
pallid youth bolstered up in the arm-chair. The dew
of death is on his pale brow. How he gasps for
breath. 0, it is hard work to endure the pain which
racks his wasted body. The spectacle wrings bitter
sobs from his agonized father, who stands beside him
overwhelmed with grief. The old man's tears move
the sick youth's sympathies, and gathering up his
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THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
little remaining strength, he whispers, while a seraphic
smile plays upon his thin lips:
"IT'S ALL RIGHT, FATHER. IT'S ALL RIGHT!"'
It's all right! Yes, that youth's eye of faith looked
into God's heart of love and saw its love-beats; saw
that love permitted those afflictions, and that love
would reward his patient endurance of them with an
eternal weight of glory. With that perception it was
easy to submit; easy to feel and to say, "It's all
right, father!"
This perception is given to all the children of faith,
and it works a submission to affiction in every form,
which robs it of half its severity. It is the resistance
of the will to trouble which gives it its chief power
to wound, and that power is taken away the moment
the mind consents to suffer quietly, on the ground that
its highest interests are to be surely promoted by the
suffering. From such submission flow consolation,
strength, and  elevated character.  It is a silvery
stream of bliss running through a heart in which
flowers and shrubs have been blackened and burned
by the flame of fiery trials.
How superior is this submission to that dogged
necessitated submission which is the highest attain
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
menlt of the impenitent mind! The latter is undignified, morose, cold, and unrefreshing. It is, in fact,
only a negative submission, by which the man merely
ceases to dash himself upon the bosses of God's buckler. But the former is a real submission, by which
the believer consents to drink the cup put into his
hands, because heavenly love wills it, and assures him
that it is only bitter medicine necessary for his soul's
healing. With this assurance he drinks it cheerfully,
and then nestles in the bosom of the Omnipotent,
singing:
"Bless'd be Thy hand, whether it shed
Mercies or blessings o'er my head;
Extend the scepter or the rod,
Bless'd hand I'tis thee, thy hand, my God I"
Consider, therefore, beloved reader, whether the
value of piety, as a light in the dark days of life, is
not one of its most precious commendations. I have
shown you that the coming of such days is as certain
as the fact of your existence; that as a worldling you
will have no real comforter amid their terrors; and
that piety will bring you abundant sources of sweetest
consolation. What then will you do? Will you
continue in your sins, and sink in despair in the sure
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THE DARK DAYS OF LIFE.
coming hours of grief? God forbid! Will you give
your heart to God, saying from this time, "My
Father, thou art the guide of my youth?" God be
praised! for by so doing you become invulnerable to
the shafts of that sorrow which worketh death, and
you will learn to sing at all times this song of faith
and hope:
"I will not let Thee go, thou help in time of need I
Heap ill on ill,
I trust thee still,
E'en when it seems as thou wouldst slay indeed.
Do as thou wilt with me,
I still will cling to thee;
Hide thou thy face, yet, help in the time of need,
I will not let thee go!
"I will not let thee go; should I forsake my bliss?I
No, Lord, thou'rt mine,
And I am thine;
Thee will I hold when all things else I miss.
Though dark and sad the night,
Joy cometh with thy light,
O thou, my Sun; should I forsake thy bliss I
I will not let thee go."
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
CHlAPTER VI.
PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY.
SOUTHEY, in his Chronicles of the Cid, relates a curious legend. At the dead of the night preceding a great
battle between the Spaniards and the Moors, the inhabitants of Leon heard a mighty sound as if it were
the tramp of a great army marching through their
streets. This spirit army was nothing but the phantom of the excited imaginations of the people. Yet
it broke their repose and disturbed their peace. And,
in like manner, is the pleasure of a sinner broken by
the march of his past sinful deeds through the chambers of his unpardoned spirit. Let him prosper like
a Girard or an Astor, let him be gay as a Lothario,
let him fill up the hours of life with the engagements
of business or the excitements of pleasure, still there
will be moments in which his senses will become
dead to all external things, and his soul be compelled
to listen to the unceasing march of his past misdeeds
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 109
along the aisles of life. And then he trembles at the
mighty souij, for his conscience whispers, "These are
marching to meet thee at the judgment of Him
against whom they were committed." Great is the
unrest of such a soul, for it realizes that there is "no
peace to the wicked," and without peace, of what
value are all his gains and pleasures?
But peace, which is beyond the reach of the proudest impenitent sinner, is the inheritance of the weakest believer in Christ. It is given to him the moment he believes, as a legacy bequeathed him by the
last will and testament of the Lord Jesus, in these
delightful words: "Peace I leave with you, my peace
I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I
unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither
let it be afraid."
0 how like the unruffled surface of a sunlit mountain lake is the breast of the man to whom this peace
is given! God smiles on him and encircles him in
his mighty arms, therefore his heart is at rest.  No
past sins march around the chambers of his spirit, for
his offenses are all blotted out of the book of God;
no voices of threatening murmur in his conscience, for
he holds the "mystery of faith in a pure conscience;"
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110    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
no fears of future retribution terrify him, for the
Ancient of Days has said to him, "I, even I, am he
that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own
sake, and will not remember thy sins."  With the
great apostle he stands at the cross and exclaims,
"Therefore, being justified by faith, we have peace
with God through our Lord Jesus Christ;" and with
a sacred poet his glad heart sings:
"A peaceful river softly flows
In tranquil streams, to gladden those
Who put their trust in God.
Within his holy place we feel
The comfort of his presence still,
While oceans roll abroad."
What can the world offer thee, my young friend,
that will compare with the preciousness of this divine
peace? Is a lifetime of carnal delight worth an hour
of such heavenly repose? Think! can gold, ambition,
gluttony, lust, grandeur, or amusements compensate
an immortal soul for its anxieties respecting the
results of its conflict with God, and for the absence of
the "peace of God?"  It cannot be.  Peace is necessary to true enjoyment. And peace is to be found
only in the service of Piety.  "Her ways," and hers
only, "are ways of pleasantness, and all HER PATHS
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 111
ARE PEACE!"  Enter her service and she will confer
this precious peace upon you.
A delicate child once lost her mother at an early
age. She was very affectionate, and the image of her
sainted mother lived in her heart.   Clinging to the
neck of her lady attendant, she would frequently say,
"Now tell me about my mamma!"  After feasting
on what she heard awhile, she would say: "Now
take me into the parlor, I want to see my mamma!"
Carried to the parlor, and placed on a sofa opposite a
portrait of her mother, she would gaze for hours on
the silent picture.  But she was a frail flower, and the
dew of death was on her brow. One day she became unconscious for hours. Then a sudden brightness broke over her pale face, her eyelids opened, her
lips parted, her thin hands were stretched out as if
reaching for some object which her eyes beheld in the
distance. After a few moments she cried: "Mother!
mother!" and expired.
In this touching fact you see the operations and
power of love. Love was the life of that child. It
was her soul's atmosphere. To commune with the
memory of her mother was her meat and drink,
her chief delight, her highest bliss. This was an
.tn. 
112    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
earthly love, yet it illustrates the operations and
power of that divine love which is brought into the
heart of every believer in Jesus.
Love to Christ is the principal thing in piety. It
is born in the moment of conversion, and when born
it immediately becomes the life of the new-born
believer and the mother of every Christian virtue.
Like the child, he dwells with ever increasing delight
on the character of his beloved, and communes, not
with his memory merely, but with the Saviour himself,
for "his fellowship is with the Father, and with his
Son Jesus Christ." And that communion is real
rapture. It stirs the depths of his emotional nature.
It causes his heartstrings to give forth their most
delicious music. It swells his soul with throbs of unspeakable joy.   It makes him a participant of those
pleasures which constitute the felicity of heaven.
When not too happy to give expression in language
to his joy, he sings with the poet:
" 0 love, thou bottomless abyss 1
My sins are swallowed up in thee;
Covered is my unrighteousness,
Nor spot of guilt remains on me;
While Jesus' blood, through earth and skies,
Mercy, free, boundless mercy, cries.
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 113
" By faith I plunge me in this sea;
Here is my hope, my joy, my rest;
Hither, when hell assails, I flee;
I look into my Saviour's breast;
Away, sad doubt and anxious fear I
Mercy is all that's written there."
Let me give you a few testimonies, from the lips of
the children of God, to the bliss of divine love.
Hear AUGUSTINE.  He says: " Come, O thou joy of
my spirit!  Let me behold thee, O life of my soul!
Appear unto me, O my great delight, my sweet comfort! O my God, my life, and the whole glory of
my soul!  Let me hold thee, O  love of my soul!
Let me embrace thee, O heavenly bridegroom! Let
me possess thee!"
See yonder cottage standing alone on the edge of
a bleak, barren moor. The day is cold and stormy,
yet a faithful pastor has just dismounted from his
horse at that cottage door. He is going to visit the
resident of the cottage.   Let us enter with him.
What a lone and cheerless room! The snow has
been drifting through the roof, and under the door, on
the uncarpeted floor. There is scarcely an ember
burning on the hearth. Mark that old, trembling man,
seated in a broken arm-chair, with an open Bible
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upon his knees. How serene his aspect! See the
rapture in his eyes, the sweet smile upon his lips.
Hark! The pastor speaks, and says:
"What are you about to-day, John?"
"Ah, sir," the happy old man replies, "I am sitting under His shadow with great delight!"
Sitting under His shadow with great deliyht! What
an overflowing fountain of bliss must the love of
Christ have been within that child of poverty to make
him so sublimely superior to outward circumstances!  No wonder that another holy man-the persecuted Rutherford-could say: " There is more to be
had of Christ than I conceived. Christ is so good that
I would have no other tutor, if I could have choice of
ten thousand besides. The saints at their best are
but strangers to the weight and worth of the incomparable sweetness of Christ. He is so new, so fresh
in excellency every day to those that search more and
more in him. 0, we love an unknown lover when
we love Christ!"
Such is the love which is the life of pious souls. It
absorbs all their emotional nature, and satisfies its
highest demands, for its object is the Infinite One. It
is ever fresh, new, and increasingly delightful, because
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 115
the manifestations of its beloved are constantly renewed, and are exhaustless as infinity. Its exercise
calls forth the deepest and most exquisite feeling of
which the human soul is capable.   It kindles  the
flames of inextinguishable desire. There is nothing
in merely human love worthy to be compared with
it. Parental, filial, fraternal, conjugal loves, though
refined and intensified by its influence, are but as stars
of palest light to the midday sun when compared
with it. It fills the soul and leaves it nothing to
wish. It elevates, ennobles, and develops all that is
great and beautiful in humanity. It raises the human
to the divine, and by enabling the man to dwell in
God, renders him so superior to changeful circumstances, that he can say with the strong-hearted Paul: "I
am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels,
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor
things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other
creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of
God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
Are you panting for enjoyment, my dear young
reader? Would you drink deep draughts of the
sweetest stream of delight that ever flowed through
the human spirit?  If so, give yourself to God, and 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
let him  "shed his love abroad  in your  heart."
Then, and not till then, will you taste the true
elixir of life.
Another pleasure of the pious heart may be seen in
the following simple incident:
"See!" said a rich landowner to'a poor peasant, as
he pointed to the beautiful landscape around them;
"those broad fields, those magnificent parks, those
dense forests, those snug farms, and, in short, all you
can see on every side, belong to me!"
The poor man looked thoughtfully a moment at the
great landholder, and then, with the rapture of faith
burning in his eyes, looking toward heaven he pointed
upward and said:
"And is that also thine?"
The lord of that vast landscape was silent. Before
the peasant's question the glory of his possessions
faded into mist. His portion all lay this side the
grave, which was the horizon of his grandest hopes.
But the poor man, looking with the eye of faith upon his
mansion in heaven, felt the rapture of a hope which
brought the heavenly and the infinite into his bosom.
His spiritual ear heard the Mlaster saying, "In my
Father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 117
a place for you." Believing these sweet words of holy
promise, he rose into the consciousness of heirship to
the divine, and his hopes reveled amid the richness,
the beauty, the grandeur, the bliss of his imperishable
inheritance.  Thus hope shone upon the darkness of
his temporary poverty, like the morning star upon
the brow of night, and filled his soul with cheerfulness
and strength.
Such a hope is the peculiar possession of the pious
man. As an impenitent sinner you may taste the
pleasures of earthly hope. Your imagination, hand
in hand with hope, may revel amid beautiful pictures
of your future greatness or happiness. It may lead
you up the steep ascent of toil, and seat you on the
empurpled chair of richly rewarded industry; it may
conduct you, amid the plaudits of the many-throated
crowd, to the bench of the magistrate, the seat of the
senator, or the pedestal of the victorious soldier; it
may picture you in the old arm-chair of the patriarch
with her who is now, or soon will be, the "winsome
sharer of your joys and sorrows, and with your
children and children's children in happy groups
around you; or it may exhibit you, like another
Newton or Milton, receiving the intellectual homage 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
of mankind in return for some magnificent achieve ment of genius which you, it flatteringly whispers, are
yet to perform. All this, and more, earthly hope
may do for you without religion, for rich wine always sparkles in the full cup which she offers to the
lips of her favorites. But she cannot afford you one
pleasant anticipation when you attempt to peer into
the life beyond the grave. As the owl closes her
eyes when the daylight shines, so earthly hope shuts
her eyelids when the brightness of the immortal
world breaks upon her.
Moreover, earthly hope is the veriest flatterer and
"will-o'-the-wisp" in the world.   Rarely does she
perform half she promises. She is also fickle as the
wind, forsaking without a sigh all whom she deceives. Alas for him who fails to win the objects
with which she enchants him! Hope leaves him
desolate, dies in him, because, the earthly being lost,
all is lost,
"And hope without an object cannot live."
Would you like to study the desolation of an unrenewed heart when hope forsakes it? Read with
attention the following terrible lines:
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 119
" The tree will wither long before its fall;
The hull drives on though mast and sail be torn;
The roof-tree sinks, but molders on the hall
In massive hoariness; the ruined wall
Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone;
The bars survive the captive they enthrall;
The day drags through, though storms keep out the sun,
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on."
What pictures of despair! A withered tree, a
wrecked hull, a rotten roof-tree, a ruined wall, prison
bars, a sunless day, a broken heart! Yet thus did
the hapless poet, writing from experience, describe the
impenitent heart from which earthly hope has taken
flight. The agony of the dying gladiator is tame in
presence of this spectacle of a soul without hope.
But let us return to that divine hope which dwelt
in the poor peasant's breast  She is an angel of life
to every pious soul. Her promises are not flatteries,
but sure words from the mouth of God. She charms
not to forsake, but is faithful as the Eternal Spirit
by whom she is begotten. All human friends may
forsake the godly man, all earthly comforts be cut off,
the spirits of all earth.born woes may hold a grim
festival of grief under his roof, and wring from his
tortured heart a wish for the coming of death; yet
even then this divine hope will not abandon him.
IF 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
As the angel sought the discouraged prophet of fire
under the juniper-tree with words of cheer and food
of mighty strength, so hope will bring him bright
ness, and power, and pleasure in his distress. Aided
by her, he will look up from the lowest deep of human sorrow and sing:
"A  country far from mortal sight;
Yet, 0, by faith I see
The land of rest, the saint's delight The heaven prepared for me!"
A sublime illustration of the power of hope is found
in the unique language of "Jack," a deaf mute, as
given by "Charlotte Elizabeth."  Speaking by signs
-of course-of the day of judgment, he said God
would open the book in which he had written all
Jack's "bads;" God would find the page full, he
said, but would not be able to read it. I-e would
see nothing; for when he first prayed Jesus Christ had
taken the book, and opening the wound in his hand,
he had let it bleed all down the page, so that God
could see none of Jack's sins, only Jesus's blood.
Finding nothing against him, God would close the
book, and Jesus would say, "My Jack!" put his arm
around him, and bid him stand with the angels.
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PLEASURiES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 121
Beautiful conception! How strong, yet how simple was that child's faith! How delightful and full
of cheer was his hope, founded upon it, of perfect
safety in that day which is to try the souls of men!
Would you then, my young friend, taste the pleas.
ures of heavenly hope? Give your heart to Christ!
Would you possess that hope which anchors the soul
so safely that it outrides the most terrific storms of
life? Give your heart to Christ! Would you always carry the sweet singing bird of paradise in your
breast? Give your heart to Christ! Thus will you
share the delight of good old Rutherford, who, after
enduring great trials with great enjoyment, said:
"At the beginning of my sufferings I had mine own
fears lest I should faint.  And I laid this before the
Lord, and as sure as he ever spake to me in his word,
as sure his Spirit witnessed to my heart that he had
accepted my sufferings, he said to me, Fear not; the
outgate shall not besimply matter of prayer but matter
of poraise!"
There are few pleasures so intoxicating to the mind
as the pleasure of victory. To stand in presence of
enthusiastic multitudes, as NAPOLEON stood in Paris
after his first Italian campaign, to listen to the
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
plaudits of impassioned thousands, to feel oneself the
object of universal admiration, is, perhaps, to taste
the most delicious fruit man can pluck from tree
of earthly growth. All victories over difficulties
which tax our powers to overcome them, yield a
measure of kindred fruit. But more delicious still is
the fruit of victory over self. He who conquers himself achieves a prouder conquest than Napoleon won
at Lodi, Arcola, or Rivoli, for he overcomes a foe to
whom even Napoleon was a slave.
SELF is the most stubborn, crafty, and powerful of
foes, harder to be won than Alpine passes or Russian
Sebastopols. Yet he falls under the blows of every
child of piety. Grace makes its possessor omnipotent
in the conflict, because his arm is nerved by the Almighty "Christ that strengtheneth him."   Principalities, powers, fleshly lusts, violent passions, powerful temptations, all fall before his faith, "which overcometh the world." His life is a series of victories,
and therefore a series of pure and lofty pleasures.
In all solicitations to evil the great inducement to
sin is the pleasure which the inordinate indulgence of
some appetite or passion is supposed to yield.  But
how momentary is that delight! How speedily it is
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 123
succeeded by the pangs of remorse and conscious selfdegradation! When old HOMER pictured the guests of
CALYPSO, after feasting at her luxurious banquets,
changed into beasts, he taught a truth familiar to the
thoughts  of every self-enslaved man.   Who  ever
tasted the pleasure of sinful indulgence without feeling that he had dragged himself down from manhood's
fitting elevation toward the level of the brute-without calling himself the most witless of fools? On the
contrary, who ever came out of a conflict with the
flesh victorious, without a heightened sense of selfrespect, a refreshing consciousness of power, and
a peaceful elevation of spirit, yielding a thousandfold
more delight than could be gained from the most
unbounded  indulgence?   Would  you  taste  this
pleasure of self-conquest,  my  reader?   Become a
Christian, for this also is a pleasure peculiar to
godliness.
Numerous other pleasures equally peculiar to piety
might be named, such as communing with God in
prayer, in his word, and in his ordinances. Then
there are the pleasures of charity, such as feeding the
poor, clothing the naked, visiting the sick, comforting
the sorrowful, and leading lost souls to Christ. Last, 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
but not least, are the delights of public and social
worship, which are so exquisite to a truly pious soul
as to fully justify the preference of a great monarch,
who once said: "I would rather be a doorkeeper in
the house of God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness." And every spiritual worshiper can, without
exaggeration, join the poet in this sweet and simple
song:
"One day in such a place
Where thou, my God, art seen,
Is sweeter than ten thousand days
Of pleasurable sin.
"My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss."
These facts and arguments must convince you, be:
loved youth, that if you would enjoy the highest happiness of which you are capable, you must enter the
pathway of piety. If peace that passeth understand.
ing, love that begets joy unspeakable, hope that
brightens with immortality, consciousness of self-conquest, the delights of charity and of divine worship,
are the peculiar and precious gifts of piety, your
interests, to say nothing of your duty, require you
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PLEASURES PECULIAR TO PIETY. 125
to listen to her voice. Give heed, therefore, to her
call. Enter her pleasant paths. Submit to her guid
ance. Let her lead you to the blessed Jesus, who
even now is saying to you: " Come unto me, all ye
that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest.   Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me,"
"and ye shall find rest unto your souls; for MY YOKE
IS EASY, AND MY BURDEN IS LIGHT."
"0 Lord I how happy is the time
When in thy love I rest,
When from my weariness I climb
E'en to thy tender breast.
The night of sorrow endeth there,
Thy rays outshine the sun,
And in My pardon, and thy care,
The heaven of heavens is won.
"Let the world call itself my foe,
Or let the world allure,
I care not for the world-I go
To this tried Friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent
Upon life's wildest sea,
My little bark is confident,
Because it holds by Thee."
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126    PLEASANT PATHWAY S.
CHAPTER VII.
HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH.
Two noble ships were sailing on the sea in a night
of storm and darkness. The storm-spirit had not
burst suddenly from the cave of the winds, but had
sent avant-couriers across the sky through the afternoon in the shape of frowning clouds. In one of
those ships these harbingers of danger, though noticed,
had been but lightly regarded.   In the other their
warning glances had been the signal to prepare the
ship for a conflict with the gale. In the first vessel
everything went on as usual. No precautions were
taken. In the second everything that prudent forecast could suggest was done.  Relieving tackles were
hooked to the helm, a spare tiller was got out, the
binnacle lights were carefully trimmed, extra lanterns
were lighted, and the ship made as snug as possible.
As the evening waned into night the storm broke
fiercely upon the sea, and the two ships, under double
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 127
reefed topsails, were running before the gale. A
steady helm was necessary to their safety. For a
while both vessels ran grandly before the mighty
breeze. But presently a huge sea broke over them
and put out their binnacle lights. In the unprepared
ship no extra lights were ready, and the compass was
left in total darkness. The helmsman was perplexed,
and the ship broached to. In the confusion the sea
broke over her again, tearing away her bulwarks,
sweeping her decks, and leaving her a helpless
wreck. In a few hours she foundered, and nearly
all her hapless crew were engulfed in the pitiless
waters.
In the other ship, the moment after the binnacle
light was put out a lighted lantern, ready for such an
emergency, supplied its place. Her helm was kept
steady. She was saved. A few days later, with all
hands aboard, with sails all set and streamers flyiong,
she glided into port, majestic as a noble swan.
These ships, with the opposite results of their
respective voyages, are images of the opposite destinies which await human voyagers on the sea of life.
Like the incautious captain, men may slight the
clouds of admonition which flit across their sky, and 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
sink engulfed in waves of ruin; or, imitating the
prudent commander, they may heed the friendly
warning, and sail in triumph into the calm haven of
immortal repose. Indeed, the end of every mortal's
life must be a fearful wreck or a great success.
There is no middle course. A terrible cry of
despair or a gladsome shout of victory must escape
from the lips of every man when death dismisses his
spirit from the chamber of life. Which cry he will
utter depends upon the preparation he makes for
that critical hour.
Now, my dear reader, let me remind you of the
trite but solemn fact that you must shortly do battle
with this great foe to life.  The grim archer has the
unerring shaft in his quiver which is destined to
pierce your heart; or it may be even now on the
string of his mighty bow.  Who dares say it is not?
In either case your hour of doom  draweth nigh,
for, as saith SCHILLER:
"With hasty step death presses on,
Nor grants to man a moment's stay;
IHe falls ere half his race is run,
In manhood's prime is swept away;
Prepared or unprepared to die,
He stands before his Judge on high."
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATHI. 129
This is an unpleasant theme to you, young heir of
mortality, I know. You do not like to contem plate this, your inevitable inheritance. Still, since
you must enter upon it, is it prudent to avert your
eye and refuse to give it consideration. Better, far
better, to study it, tremble before it, and by timely
preparation prepare to receive it with joy and not
with grief.
When RACHEL, the great tragic actress, was dying,
she caused her jewels and trinkets to be brought and
placed before her  on  the  bed.   Their presence
revived the memory of her public triumphs, for
among the precious gems were the costly gifts which
high-born nobles and puissant princes had laid at her
feet. She gazed at them long and earnestly. Her
eyes flashed, her pa]:cheeks flushed, and in piercing
tones she cried: ".6Vhy have I to part with all this so
soon?" and died!
Poor Rachel! all the treasures of her heart were
in this world, and could not be taken with her into
the next, for " shrouds have no pockets." Beyond the
dark river she had nothing, for she had laid up no
treasure there. No wonder she hugged life with the
embrace of despair. She had everything to bind
9 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
her to earth, nothing to attract her to the world
beyond.
Here is another sketch. A rude old fisherman, speaking of death to a friend, said: "I know well enough
that some rough winter night the old sea will be my
grave-'tis not that I stand in dread of-'tis what
a spirit may meet with if it gets a launch off from
this shore with no notion how to make for the other."
These pencilings bring into relief two facts, which
make death a disagreeable contemplation to all the
ungodly. 1. In heaven they have no loved objects.
2. They have no spirit-kindled eye of faith to pierce
the mists and vapor which float between the tomb and
eternity.  How different with the pious soul!  His
treasure is in heaven, for Jesus is the object of his
affections, and his eye of faith beholds the cross of
Christ spanning the mystic gulf which lies between
every death-bed and the celestial city. To him, therefore, death is not a repugnant topic. He does not
shrink from its contemplation. Nay, he loves to think
of it, to desire it, to pant for it. As saith the poet:
"Rivers to the ocean run,
Nor stay in all their course;
Fire ascending seeks the sun;
Both speed them to their source:
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 131
So a soul that's born of God
Pants to view his glorious face;
Upward tends to his abode,
To rest in his embrace."
Is not this mental tranquillity in prospect of death
a priceless blessing? Next to dying well is it not the
most desirable of possessions? Were it yours would
it not save you from many anxious thoughts, many
painful apprehensions?  Become a Christian and you
will possess it, for one great purpose of the Saviour's
death was " to deliver them who through fear of
death were all their lifetime subject to bondage."
But if your anticipations of death are painful, how
terrible it will be to actually meet death! I do not
affirm that you will be filled with terror in your
dying moments; for like, perhaps, the majority of
mankind, you may be unconscious in your last
moments. As you know, many diseases cause
delirium, somnolency, or paralysis. In multitudes of
cases medical men administer opiates, which keep the
dying in slumberous, dreamy, hallucinated conditions.
Frequently men die suddenly or violently. A fit, a
bursting blood-vessel, a rupture of the heart, a fall,
a blow, an epidemic, a railroad or steamboat casualty, or some similar catastrophe, smites men down 
132    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
so swiftly that the hand by which they fall is to them
invisible. In all such cases there is no consciousness,
consequently neither joy nor grief, hope nor fear,
delight nor terror.
Suppose it should be your lot to die in one of these
unconscious states. Without a Saviour what will
you do when death, having unrobed your spirit, you
awake to consciousness in ETERNITY? Will it not be
terrible to behold the frown of an angry God, to
hear the voice of the avenger cry: "He that is unjust
let him be unjust still, and he which isfilthy let him be
filthy still;" to be bound in chains of darkness, and
cast into the lake of everlasting fire? But with a
Saviour an unconscious death will be an awakening to
the ecstasies of unending felicity.  Prepare, then, O
youth, prepare to meet thy God!
You may, however, be conscious when death comes
to unseal the door of life's mysterious chamber, and
to bid your immortal soul depart to meet its destiny.
Yet even in that case, though you remain impenitent, I
dare not affirm positively that the pangs of guilt will
thrill your conscience, and the fear of approaching
retribution terrify you. I wish to deal sincerely and
frankly with you, and therefore I concede that many
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 133
wicked men have no "bands in their death:" they
die boldly, fearlessly, as the brute dieth. GIBBON,
who cherished a bitter hatred of Christianity to the
last, died tranquilly, and exhibited an almost perfect indifference as to his future welfare. HumE,
the skeptic, conscious of his approaching death,
spent his last hours in jocular conversation with
his friends, and in reading amusing books. He
met death without any apparent perturbation of
mind. LORD NELSON, though reeking with the sin of
unrepented adultery, died thanking God he had done
his duty. MARSHAL NEY, who certainly was no Christian, marched into the presence of his executioners
with the same serenity of soul and pomp of manner
with which he had been wont to appear upon a
parade ground. The GIRONDISTS, notable for their
deism, feasted like epicures, and discoursed like
philosophers, the night preceding their death. They
went to the scaffold, and died singing the Marseillaise with astonishing enthusiasm.  NAPOLEON, unre.
pentant of his splendid crimes, met death without the
least uneasiness as to his future life.  And these
individuals are the representatives of large classes,
who, in all spheres of life, and under every variety of
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
circumstances, meet death in the full possession of
consciousness, unsupported by religious faith, and yet
without feeling those terrors which often rend the
consciences of wicked men.
Do not think, however, that in their death such
men resemble believers in Christ. There is a distance, almost infinite, between their stoical indifference, and the hallowed peace which reigns in the
bosom of a dying believer. The highest triumph of
the former is a mere negation; they merely succeed
in excluding fear: while the latter not only conquer
fear, but they attain to a positive joy, arising from
the contemplation of that future which the former
are obliged to forget in order to keep fear quiet.
The former are not terrified, because they resolutely
cover their eyes that they may not behold their
adversary; the latter gaze upon the foe with open
face, comprehend his utmost power, and yet triumph!
The superiority of the latter over the former is,
therefore, scarcely less than infinite. No man in
his senses can deem such calmness as sinners feel in
such an hour at all desirable. Yet this is the utmost
victory that the proudest sinners can achieve in the
hour of death. Such as it is they have it, either be.
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HIOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 135
cause they are ignorant of their true destiny, or
because, if acquainted with revealed truth, they have
put it from them until the "god of this world hath
blinded their minds," and the God of heaven,  by
leaving them alone, "hath blinded their eyes, and
hardened their heart," so that while "hell from beneath
is moved" to meet them at their coming,othey see
no danger.  Yet, as with the former class, "sudden
destruction" awaiteth them. Behold the true character of their boldness in an illustration.
The peasant long familiar with the rumbling voices
and fiery belchings of a volcanic mountain, builds his
cottage on some green spot which the burning stream
of past eruptions has left unscathed, and sleeps at
night heedless of the mysterious warnings which the
mountain mutters. The bellowing of the crater is as
unnoted by that thoughtless sleeper as is the bubbling
of the brook or the tinkling of the cow-bell by the
dweller in the vale below. Years of security make
his serenity appear like the fruit of the ripest wisdom, and seem to justify his scorn of those who
warn him of the danger which surrounds his home.
But at length the fiery waves rise up to punish his
hardihood; and some fatal night, while he dreams of
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136    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
safety and smiles, red hot arms burst the breast of
the mountain and drag him, with the smile upon his
lips, to the burning lake beneath.
This is a faint image of a bold sinner's death. His
courage is foolhardiness, his defiant glance at death is
the expression of a reckless spirit. How quickly his
bravery,forsakes him when, forced from his defiled
body, his guilty soul stands on the brink of everlast ing burnings, when his offended Creator glances infinite indignation at him, and says: "Fear ye not me;
will ye not tremble at my presence?" "Therefore,
thus saith the Lord God, Behold I, even I, am against
thee!" Then will he join the vain cry of guilty
kings, great men, rich men, and mighty men, to the
rocks  and  mountains,  saying, "Fall  on  us  and
hide us from the face of Him that sitteth on the
throne and from the wrath of the Lamb: for the
great day of his wrath is come, and who shall be
able to stand?"
But even this poor comfort of dying "as the fool
dieth" is not permitted to all impenitent men.   It
may not be to you if you remain unsaved. The
second death may cast a deep shadow on your
trembling heart in that solemn hour, as it did on
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 137
the spirit of one to whom I will now introduce
you.
There lived a man whom God had endowed with the
richest gifts of genius. His friends gave him all the
advantages of the most liberal culture. He meddled
with all knowledge. He wrote books and the world
praised him. Learned men almost worshiped him.
Princes contended for his presence in their dominions.
Woman poured the wealth of her affections into his
soul. Honor crowned his brow. Plenty emptied
her cornucopia at his feet. Health breathed vigor
into his veins, and made his life one long enjoyment. Time touched him gently, and he lived
to see a green old age. Thus this man possessed
everything but the smile of God. How did he
die?
See him, gray-headed, gray-bearded, and venerable,
seated in an easy chair near an open window. The
weary wheels of life move slowly now. His limbs are
feeble. His breathing is slow. Death is at the door
of the chamber of life. It opens. The soul of the
dying man is commanded to go forth-to enter the
world beyond. A leaden seal closes his senses
against terrestrial light, but no celestial light pierces 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
his soul.   He  is startled, cries,  "More  light!" and
dies.
Poor GOETHE! for that was his name, saw no brightness reflected from the world beyond to cheer his
dying chamber. But instead, a horror of thick darkness settled upon him and wrung from his distressed
heart that fearful cry, "More light!" "More light!"
That cry was vain.  It came too late.  He had lived
without God, and God left him to die in the dark.
Poor Goethe! poor poet!  His life was a brilliant
day, ending in the blackness of an eternal night.
Nor is such a death as Goethe's, sad as it was, by
any means as painful as that of many sinners. To
some it is given to foretaste the agony of that damnation which awaits them.  Blair had such before his
eyes when he penned his thrilling description of a remorseful sinner's end. Listen to his painful numbers:
" In that dread moment how the frantic soul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement,
Runs to each avenue and shrieks for help,
But shrieks in vain! How wishfully she looks
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers!
A little longer; yet a little longer,
O might she stay to wash away her stains,
And fit her for her passage!  Mournful sight!
Her very eyes weep blood, and every groan
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 139
She heaves is big with horror. But the foe,
Like a staunch murderer steady to his purpose,
Pursues her close through every lane of life;
Nor misses once the track, but presses on
Till, forced at last to the tremendous verge,
At once she sinks to everlasting ruin."
Do you think the picture is too deeply shaded? If
so, read the following facts: A man who had long heard
the Gospel preached was sick unto death. A minister
of my acquaintance went to visit him. As he ascended the stairs his ears were startled by the dying man's
cries of distress. On entering the room he saw two
men beside his bed. One held his hands to keep him
from gnawing them in his despair. The other kept
his feet in bed. His face was the embodiment of
horror. When he saw the minister he cried, or
howled rather:
"O 0 God, don't, don't! Thou just God, don't, don't,
don't!"
After a time his howlings and violence ceased, and
he lay with his face buried in the pillow, and moaning "Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!"
But no ear heeded his piteous cries; no voice
came to quiet the terrible tumult in his agitated soul.
He died with the guilt of a lifetime on his spirit. He
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
was like those ancient Jews, who said, "We will walk
after our own devices, and we will every one do the
imagination of his evil heart;" and to whom God had
said, "I will show them my back, and not my face, in
the day of their calamity."
Listen again! Hear the death-bed cry of the great
and worldly CARDINAL MAZARIN.  "0 my poor soul!"
he exclaims, in piteous tones, "what will become of
thee? Whither art thou going?" VOLTAIRmE'S deathchamber, as you know, was a scene of horror.
PAINE'S was both fearful and disgusting.  RANDOLPH'S
dying experience was written in the thrice repeated
word, "remorse! remorse! REMORSE!" a word which
expresses more of mental agony than any other known
to man.  HOBBES, trembling with apprehension, said:
"I am about to take a leap in the dark." DAVID W.
BELL cried, " 0 I must be damned! I am damned!
damned to all eternity!" A man named CHALONER
died cursing, and crying, "0 torture, torture, torture!
O  torture, torture!"  Another, named ROGERS, exclaimed, "I have had a little pleasure, but now I
must have hell for evermore. I must to hell, I must
to hell! I must to the furnace of hell for millions and
millions of ages!"
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 141
But enough of these sad pictures. They sicken my
heart, and my pen trembles as I think that the fair
youth who reads these pages may, by neglecting his
soul, pass through such agonies to an eternal prison.
"Forbid it, gracious Redeemer!" is the prayer which
1ises to my lips. Prevent it, precious youth, by knocking at the wicket gate which opens into the pleasant
path of faith in the Son of God!
Do this, and then O how delightful it will be to die
when the appointed hour strikes! A life of faith leads
to the verge of heaven, as a good man's death-chamber
has been truly called. To stimulate you to begin a
Christian life now, let me sketch a few righteous souls
engaged in victorious combat with the grim warrior
of the "white horse."
When Mrs. HAMLIN, a missionary in Turkey, was
on her death-bed, her physical sufferings were intense.
But amid all her agonies she said she had "perfect
peace," and her one desire was "to reach her rest."
Toward the last her pain of body ceased. An expression of ineffable peace settled on her features, and the
tones of her voice, as she bade farewell to her husband,
were tremulous with the tenderness of overflowing
affection.   At length she sunk quietly away as oe. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
falleth into a sweet slumber. Thinking she was
dead, her husband exclaimed, "My Henrietta! my
Henrietta!"
She opened her eyes, and looking earnestly around,
asked, "What child is this 2? Is it little Carrie 2?"
"No, my dear," replied her husband, "there is nd
child here!"
"Yes," she rejoined, "it is little Carrie, and the
room is full of children."
Then looking upward, she breathed her joyous
spirit into the arms of the angels whose presence her
half unvailed spirit had just before mistaken for beau  tiful children. Can the records of unrenewed mind
furnish one example of such a beautiful death as this?
I answer emphatically, NOT ONE! Such a death is
impossible to an unregenerate mind.
Here is another case. It is cited by Dr. Moore.
He stood by a dying believer, and asked, "Are you
in pain?"
"It is delightfiul," was the reply.
Another of his patients was so overpowered with
the love of God that he died saying, "This is life this is heaven.  God is life-I need no faith, I have
. the promise!"
!-'::.:....
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 143
MONTMORENCY, constable of France, died on the
field of battle. "Die like a good Christian," said
some of the members of his staff as they soothed his
last moments.
"Gentlemen and fellow-soldiers," he replied, "I
thank you for your concern about me, bit the man
who has endeavored to live well for fourscore years,
can never have to seek now how to die well for a
quarter of an hour. But my having endeavored to
live well is not the ground of my dependence. No,
my sole dependence is on Jesus Christ!"
With such noble words as these upon his lips the
pious soldier ascended from the field of death to the
mansions of eternal life.
Here is still another case. A gentleman named
GOLDING was enjoying spiritual raptures as he was
shaking off the garment of mortality. A friend who
stood by with wonder in his looks, said:
"You seem to enjoy foretastes of heaven!"
O," replied the dying saint, " this is no longer a
foretaste, this is heaven! I not only feel the climate,
but I breathe the fine ambrosial air of heaven, and
shall soon enjoy the company!"
Shortly after his face wore an aspect of ineffable
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
joy, and crying, "Glory! Glory! Glory!" he ascended to nestle in the breast of Jesus forever.
And here is yet one more example. An aged man,
after a long and very painful sickness, found himself
dying. Taking his friendly watcher by the hand, he
looked into his face with an expression beautiful as a
seraph's smile, and said:
"I have just been down to the bank of Jordan to see
how the water is. Methought as I stood there, old
John Bunyan came, and tapping me on the shoulder,
said,' The water is deep or shallow in proportion as
faith is in exercise."'
Shortly after he whispered, " Come, Lord Jesus!"
and closing his eyes slept sweetly in the Lord.
His faith was strong, and he found the waters
shallow, as all do who have faith:
"For, like a happy infant, Faith
Can play among the graves."
These illustrations of the power of piety to give
victory in death might be multiplied indefinitely. It
is one of the peculiar results of the Christian life to
teach its possessors to " die well." Not that every
Christian dies equally triumphant, for there are do
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HOW TO WIN VICTORY IN DEATH. 145
grees of triumph among dying believers, just as there
are degrees of misery among dying sinners. But mark
this, thou who must conquer or be conquered in death:
the most timid Christian death is infinitely more desirable than the boldest death possible to a sinner; for the
former is succeeded by immortal felicity, the latter
by immortal misery.
Would you then escape the death of the wicked.
Would you avoid the sudden plunge into damnation
which awaits the sinner who dies in unconsciousness?
Be pious! Would you be saved from the terror which
thrills the spirit of the bold sinner, when death suddenly leads him to the lake of fire?  Be pious!  Would
you be spared the dying agony of the consciencestricken sinner? Be pious! Would you die peacefully,
triumphantly?  Be pious!  Enter the way of peace;
seek pardon; consecrate your young life to God;
live a life of faith in the Son of God!  Then, when
the summons to die falls upon your ears, joy will
swell your sanctified heart, and you will reply with
the poet:
"Lo I I come exultingly:
What a triumph't is to die I
All the bands of mortal life,
All the strlggle, all the strife,
10
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146    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Death, and death's ignoble bed,
Underneath my feet I tread.
"Lo I I see, exultingly,
Visions bursting from the sky:
Glowing light from paradise
Gleams upon my ravish'd eyes;
Odors, sweeter than the spring,
Wafting zephyrs gently bring.
' Hark! the music steals along,
Welcome, sweet, of angel-song;
Now my spirit joyously
Mounts aloft, from bondage free,
Upward rising, high and higher,
Light as flame of heavenly fire.
"Through the open gates of light,
Streaming glory fills my sight;
I on blissful myriads gazeStars of life! Seraphic blaze!
Swells my heart, my loosen'd tongue
Warbles an immortal song."
Dying  1us you will realize that "godliness is
profitable" even in death, which it transforms into a
pleasant path and a peaceful way.
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
AFTER a week of storms I have not unfrequently
looked on the noble bay into which the beautiful
Hudson pours its abundant waters.   Innumerable
vessels of all sizes, from the graceful yacht to the
stately ship, have met and charmed my eye. With
their white sails all set to catch the favoring breeze,
they have glided majestically as a flock of swans
across the sunlit waves toward the great ocean beyond.  "Those vessels," I have said, musingly, "are
all alike outward bound. Each is steering for her
destined port. But how opposite will be their fates.
Some will outride every gale, escape every treacherous breaker, and proudly enter port; while others,
dashed to pieces by the furious waves, or broken on
pitiless rocks, will be most miserably wrecked."
And this is an image of the fates of men. When
life is young, and fresh, and new, like the ships on
147 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
the bay, they all glide on sunlit waters, sheltered by
parental arms, and bound on a perilous voyage to
that unknown sea, Eternity.  But how diverse their
destinies!   Some,  like  prosperous  voyagers,  will
reach the happy port and float on "seas of heavenly
rest" forever. But many, alas! how many, will
make shipwreck of life, and drift forever amid endless storms and darkness on seas of dark despair.
One of these opposite destinies awaits them all, for
there is no middle state for man in eternity. Perfect rest or absolute unrest, everlasting triumph or
everlasting despair, heaven or hell, awaits every living soul at the end of the earthly life. The wicked
"shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the
righteous into life eternal."
God has made your soul immortal, a "picture of
his own eternity." Indestructibility is stamped upon
it.  It is capable, therefore, of enjoying " everlasting
life;" of suffering "everlasting punishment."  But it
cannot be destroyed. Its destiny is to be, to think,
to feel, forever!
Forever! Did you ever look into that yawning
depth making an attempt to sound it? FOREVER!
Did you ever try to run a measuring line along the
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
limitless ages contained in this mighty term? If so
you know what it is to stagger on the brink of a
bottomless abyss, to stand appalled in presence of
boundless duration. Yet, since you must exist forever, permit me to enlarga your conceptions of this
great idea by an illustration.
Suppose your Creator were to commission some
tiny insect to remove the matter of this great globe
to the most distant star in immensity. It can carry
for a load only an atom so small as to be imperceptible to the eye. Millions of years are required for the
performance of a single journey. It commences its
task upon the leaf of a delicate plant. With its invisible load it departs, deposits it, and after millions of
years returns for a second atom. What numberless
ages would pass before that single leaf would be
carried away!   What  untold periods before  the
whole plant would be gone! What vast cycles
would elapse before a tree, a forest, a hill, a mountain would disappear!   The strongest imagination
staggers at the thought of the ages which would pass
ere the last particle of the globe would be removed.
Yet even then your imperishable spirit would be but
in the infancy of its existence!  Amazing thought!
149 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"Immortal! Ages past, yet nothing gone!
Morn without eve, a race without a goal I
Unshorten'd by progression infinite I
Futurity forever future! life
Beginning still where computation ends."
This immortality is an attribute of your nature,
and invests you with a grandeur which no earth-born
greatness can equal; it stamps you with a value
which defies computation; it imparts to your existence an aspect of terrible solemnity; it gives grave
pertinency to the question of the great Teacher:
"What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the
whole world and lose his own soul?" and it justifies
the inquiry of the poet:
"Round us, o'er us, is there aught
Which can fill our highest thought 
Aught which may deserve to be
With our noblest aims inwrought?
Yes,'tis Immortality."
Since it is your destiny, immortal youth, to live
forever, let me present you with a dim but faithful
picture of life beyond the grave. Give me your
hand! Let me lead you first to the brink of that
perdition which will "move from beneath to meet
you at your coming," if you continue in your present
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
impenitent state until death. The spectacle may be
painful to contemplate, but would it not be infinitely
more so to be cast into that "lake of fire "  Look,
then, that you may escape from it while escape is
possible.
A prosperous sinner, who acquired large wealth,
lived sumptuously, and dressed fashionably, was hurried from his magnificent dwelling into eternity.
There was nothing notable in his death.  He died
as most sinners die, unconscious of the wickedness
of his self-indulgent life and of the fearful doom
which awaited him beyond the tomb. But scarcely
had he closed his eyes on this world before he lifted
them up "in hell, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off and Lazarus in his bosom. And he
cried and said,'Father Abraham, have mercy on me
and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his
finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tor.
mented in this flame.'"
"But Abraham said,'Son, remember that thou ill
thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise
Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and
thou art tormented, And besides all this, between
us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they
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PLEASAnT PATHWAYS.
which would pass from hence to you cannot, neither
can they pass to us that would come from thence.'"
These, as you know, are the words of Christ.  He
knew what was in heaven and hell, because he was
Lord over both. In giving this awful account of the
rich sinner's fate, he pushed the gate of perdition
open a little space that men might look in and see
the misery of lost souls. That rich man is a representative character. What he suffers all lost souls
suffer, all finally impenitent souls will suffer, you will
suffer if you die in your present state. Fix your
eye, therefore, on him in his "place of torment."
Study his agony closely as a picture of your own
future woe unless you repent.
"I am tormented in this flame," he cries.  So fierce
is his torment that to have the tip of his tongue
touched by the wet finger of Lazarus seemed like a
great favor. But even that trifling alleviation was
refused as contrary to an unalterable law which
formed an impassable "gulf" between his abode and
the home of the redeemed.
What was the nature of the fire in which he was
tormented? Was it material or mental? I cannot
tell God has elsewhere called it "a lake of fire
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
burning with brimstone," and "fire that is never
quenched."  Many good and wise men interpret these
phrases literally.  Others regard them as figurative,
as teaching that the mental misery of lost souls is so
intense that the exquisite pain which a man immersed
in fire would suffer is the nearest representation that
can be given of it. This is my own opinion. But
how terrible must such anguish be! Look at that
lost rich man  again.  See him writhing, weeping,
tossing to and fro in the mysterious fire which burns
without shedding one ray of light around his miserable abode! Hark how piteously he cries, "I am
tormented in this flame!" Do you not shrink from
tasting such woe?  Do  you not feel that it is "a
fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living
God?"
"I am tormented in this flame." The fuel on which
that flame feeds is the sin of his past life. His relyations and obligations to God, with the ingratitude, the
baseness, the folly, the selfishness, and the inexcusa bleness of his iniquities, are all fearfully transparent
to his glaring eyes. His conscience, long sinned
against, now "spits fire in his face and fills him with
shame and horror." It peoples the murky atmos
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phere about him with ghostly images of his unre* pented sins; it writes the half-forgotten record of his
life in big fiery letters on the walls of his prison; it
shouts the curses of the law in his ears; it reproaches
him for his folly; it points him to the awful frown of
his wronged, insulted, but now avenging Creator.
Thus his conscience begets thoughts which float
around him as a sea of unquenchable fire. Do
you wonder that he cries, "I am tormented in
this flame 2"
When a guilty conscience is awakened this side the
grave its pangs are like "the arrows of the Almighty,"
the "poison whereof drinketh up the spirit."  What,
then, must they be in a lost soul? Let me give you
a few examples of these pangs, as felt by living men,
arising not from a career of peculiar infamy, but
from acts which are too often regarded as trifling
and venial.
When SIR WALTER SCOTT was at school there was
a boy in his class who always kept at the top. Scott
long tried in vain to displace him. One day he
noticed that, when questioned, this boy always kept
his fingers fumbling about a particular button on his
vest. Scott contrived to cut it off, and, as he expected,
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
the next time the boy was questioned he missed both
the button and his lesson. Scott got his place, but, as
he afterward confessed, the sight of that boy always
smote him, and he never ceased to wish that this un
kind act had not been done.
A similar feeling of pain was once admitted by a
sick youth, who, calling his father to his bed-side,
said:
"Three years ago I told you a falsehood.  It has
given me many sleepless hours. I want to ask your
forgiveness."
The pangs of an awakened conscience were very
severe in the case of the REv.  CHARLES SIMEON
while he was under conviction of sin. His life had
always been severely moral, yet, when "he saw the
numberless iniquities of his former life, so greatly
was his mind oppressed by them, that he frequently
looked upon the dogs with envy, wishing, if it were
possible, that he could be blessed with their mortality,
and they be cursed with his immortality!"
A more striking case was that of an impenitent
man who fell into a river and was so far drowned as
to be insensible for some time.  "What were your
feelings when you fell into the water?" a friend in
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
quired after he was restored to consciousness. He
made this memorable reply:
"My feelings were the most horrible you can conceive. All the sins I ever committed rushed at
once into my mind, and conscience portrayed the
whole to me. I beheld the flames of hell kindled
before me."
In some persons of extreme wickedness these pains
of mind have grown so intense that the guilty sufferers have voluntarily confessed their crimes, after
having denied them, on the scaffold and on the rack.
" They have implored the mercy of a violent death as
more tolerable than the agony of their guilty souls."
Here is an illustration in point.
Two men were traveling in a retired part of the
country, when one suddenly struck the other and
slew him. Having robbed the body he concealed it
and fled. Changing his name, the guilty man toolk up
his abode in a quiet village, and having established
himself in business, became a highly respected man
and a magistrate. Many years rolled away, and he
lived on unsuspected of crime. But one day, while
trying a man charged with murder, his conscience,
which for thirty years had been lashing him with
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cords of burning iron, asserted all its power. iHe
could endure his concealed agony no longer. Stepping from the bench of the magistrate to the dock of
the prisoner, he confessed his crime, and said:
"I cannot feel relief from the agonies of an awakened conscience, but by requiring that justice be done
to me in the most public manner."
I have quoted these examples of the power of conscience to inflict the severest pain in this life, that you
may see how such torment as the rich man suffered
in hell may arise from the mind itself. A guilty conscience is itself a hell-a crater of flame kindled by
the breath of an angry God-furnished with all the
means of fiercest torment. A man's sins are the fuel
which feeds the scorching flame. Imagination and
memory are the remorseless tormentors ever toiling
at the mouth of the sufferer's hell, and heaping his
iniquities upon the undying fire. This is what Milton
meant when he made his lost archangel say:
"Me miserable! Which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath and infinite despair.
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep,
Still threatening to devour me, opens wiLe,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven."
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
See you not, impenitent youth, in this feature of
your moral nature, how you may be made a sad part ner in that rich man's torment? If Sir Walter Scott
was smitten with pain, through a series of years, by
the recollection of a boyish act of injustice; if the sick
youth was visited by sleepless hours during three years
for a single falsehood; if the moral Mr. Simeon wished
himself a dog when his iniquities met him; if, for
more marked offenses, men have suffered beyond their
powers of endurance in the flesh, what is there to save
you from torment in the world beyond the grave, when
your conscience shall be awakened by the hand-writing
on the wall? When driven from the noise and occupations of this busy life; when the light of eternity shines
unobstructedly on your naked spirit; when a resurrection of every buried act of sin shall take place in your
memory; when a clear consciousness of the infinite
love of God, which you have despised, shall awake
within you; when a full comprehension of all you
have been, and all you ought to have been, shall possess you; when the startling conviction that you are
utterly, hopelessly, and eternally lost, arises within
you; the*, O then, will you not taste the rich man's
anguish and cry, " I am tormented in this flame?"
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
In addition to these gnawings of guilt, lost souls
suffer from their intercourse with each other. The
rich man dreaded the coming of his brothers to his
place of torment, doubtless, because he shrunk from
their reproaches. Hell is an association of wicked
souls. Lost angels and ruined men are there linked
in one vast society.  What a thought! What profane
blasphemies, what horrible curses, what mutual reproaches, what malignant speeches, must forever
mingle with that "weeping, wailing, and gnashing of
teeth" which characterizes them all I This fact alone
makes my soul hasten far from the road to hell. To
be the forced companion of all the blasphemers, infidels, thieves, murderers, liars, riotous and ungodly
wretches who have cursed the world with their presence, is of itself sufficient to call forth an earnest purpose to avoid their abode. " O my soul, come not thou
into their secret; unto their assembly mine honor be
not thou united!"
Besides all this the rich man was the spectator of
the bliss of heaven.  He saw "Abraham afar off and
Lazarus in his bosom." You are thus taught that
lost souls are tormented by the sight of the heaven
they have rejected.  They can lift up their eyes from
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
afar and behold the blissfiul land, the mansions, the
innumerable multitude of the redeemed walking in
white, the throne of God and the Lamb, only to be
reminded that they too might have been inheritors of
that bliss, but for their own obstinate rejection of the
love which stooped even to the humiliation of death
to save them. And ever as they look on the glorious
brow of the adorable Redeemer, they shall hear a
voice saying, "Ye would not come unto me that ye
might have life." And when the echoes of the song
of the saints floaing across the impassable gulf shall
fall upon their ears, saying, "Blessing, and honor, and
glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the
throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever," they
shall writhe with renewed torture. The "for ever
and ever" in that song shall ring as the knell of
eternal death, and thrill the wretched multitude anew,
by reminding them that there is to be no end to their
sufferings.  "The smoke of their torment ascendeth
up for ever and ever; and they have no rest day nor
night."
Once only in their weary life will the monotony of
their woe be broken. On an appointed day the blast
of an archangels trump will summon them to the bar
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
of the Ancient of Days, and to a reunion with their
sin-defiled bodies. There, in presence of an assembled universe, they shall be "judged according to
their works;" there they shall be condemned; there
a reluctant confession of the justice of their doom
shall be wrung from their lips; there, bowing the
knee before the Lamb, whose atonement in their
earthly lifetime they rejected, they shall publicly ac
knowledge the justice of God in their condemnation;
and there, covered with " shame and everlasting contempt," they shall hear the once Crucified pronounce
their sentence, saying, "Depart from me ye cursed
into, everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his
angels." They shall then be "cast into the lake of
fire" to suffer the bitter pains of the "second death,"
without mitigation or hope of relief for ever and ever.
Such is the life of lost souls according to Holy
Scripture. Such will be your life beyond the grave,
dear impenitent youth, unless you become a believer
in Christ. Can you bear the thought of thus " drinking of the wine of the wrath of God?" Do you not
shudder at the bare idea of being thus "tormented"
in the "presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb?"  Are the "pleasures of sin,"
11
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
which are but for a season, worth such a tremendous
price?  You would not leap into a den of hungry
lions or hissing serpents, neither would you cast yourself into a fiery furnace; why, O why, then, will you
walk the road which leads to the den of devils and
lost souls? to the lake of fire which is as unquenchable as the life of your immortal spirit? 0, pity
yourself, and turn away, I beseech you, turn from the
broad way, saying:
"Nothing is worth a thought beneath,
But how I may escape the death
That never, never dies I
How make mine own election sure;
And when I fail on earth, secure
A mansion in the skies."'
LIFE, LIFE, ETERNAL LIFE! HIIow cheering these
words sound after the dreary voices from hell's everlasting prisoners to which we have been listening!
Sadly has my mind traversed the scenes my pen has
just pictured. Again and again my excited sympathies have bid me leave the picture unfinished, but
the conviction that this view of the dark side of the
life beyond the gra L might move some precious
youth to shun it, ha, restrained me. But having
drawn it, I turn to the bright side of that life with
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
the feelings of one passing from a charnel-house into
the pure atmosphere of a bright summer morning.
Give me your hand again, my reader. Let me lead
you from the brink of perdition to the glorious land
of Beulah. Let us stand beneath the trees of that
pleasant realm, and while breathing its clear, balmy
air, let us behold the children of piety as, emerging
from the river of death, they ascend the shining path
beyond it to the celestial city.
I have already shown you how believers die.
Jesus has drawn aside the vail which hides the
spiritual world from mortal observation sufficiently
to let us see how, after escaping from their "earthly
house," they ascend  to heaven.  Read!  "And it
came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried by
the angels into Abraham's bosom!"
Carried by the angels! I thank thee, Jesus, for
that revealing.  It shows me how all believers reach
their home, for surely Lazarus was not taken thither
by any unusual method. Carried by angels! Delightful mode of transit!  Borne, 0 how rejoicingly
and lovingly! in the strong arms of" shining ones," the
freed believer is in an ecstasy of unspeakable delight.
Not a fear stirs the perfect calm which pervades his
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
sprinkled conscience. Too happy to speak to his
heavenly attendants, he looks steadfastly on the doors
of his'" Father's house." One thought fills his swelling soul: "I am saved! I am saved! I have fought
the good fight, I have finished my course. Henceforth
there is a crown laid up for me. 0 halleluiah!
halleluiah to God and the Lamb for ever!"
Swimming in this delicious consciousness as in a
sea of bliss, he finds himself in the celestial city, and
is led through the long lines of shining ranks toward
the presence of "our God  which  sitteth upon the
throne" and "of the Lamb." As the beatific spectacle
gradually unfolds its glory to his unaccustomed eye,
he may say to himself,
"And is this heaven? And am I here a
How short the road I How swift the flight I
I am all life, all eye, all ear;
Jesus is here, my soul's delight."
He is before the throne. Ineffable love beams upon
him from the glorious face of his Redeemer. There
he is "clothed in white raiment," a palm is placed in
his hands, Jesus "confesses" him " before his Father
and before his angels," gives him a " crown of life,"
presents him with the "mansion" prepared for him,
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.  165
and joins him to the "great multitude which no man
could number." Thus introduced to the life of
heaven, he lifts up his voice and swells the everlasting
song, saying, "Salvation to our God which sitteth
upon the throne, and unto the Lamb!"
Who can conceive the unspeakable rapture of a
saved soul during these first moments of his heavenly
life! There is the consciousness of being actually
saved, of dangers all escaped, of battles all fought,
and victory won; of temptations, doubts, fears, crosses, trials, infirmities, cares, all left behind with the
earthly house; there is the overwhelming gratitude,
the adoring, subduing, clinging, burning love for his
Saviour which swells in his soul, and bursts from it,
like gushing springs, in songs of praise, as he feels
through all the pulsations of his being the power of
the thought, "I owe all this to Jesus!"  This rapture
is heightened by a profound sense of personal unworthiness which begets the wonder why he died for
me. While, to crown the whole, comes in the idea
of perpetuity.  "This bliss is to endure forever!" his
enraptured soul will say, and then, with immeasurable
tides of blissful feeling sweeping through his nature,
he will cast his crown at the Saviour's feet and sing: 
166    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our
sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and
priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and
dominion for ever and ever."
I love to think of a soul's first hour in heaven; for
it seems to me that almost an eternity of bliss is
included in its exquisite experiences. If all its subsequent life were to be spent with less of thrilling
delight, that hour would atone for all the sufferings
of its earthly past, and, as a recollection, be a star of
beauty shedding joy forever upon its path. But,
0 delightful thought! the capacities of saved souls are
destined to be endlessly developed, and to drink
in ever-increasing draughts of bliss from the inexhaustible fullness of the blessed God. Its first hour
in heaven is therefore only a prelude to a life of immortal delights.
The precise manner in which saved souls will spend
their heavenly life is not revealed. What their duties
will be, by what ministries of love their powers will
be tasked, by what means their intellectual and moral
progress will be promoted, the special relations they
will sustain to one another, and how they will be
cdistributed in the heavenly kingdom, are problems
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LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE.
which it has not pleased God to solve for us who
dwell in houses of clay.  Nor will I speculate upon
them, because enough of the heavenly life is revealed
to make it an object of supreme desire.
In the heavenly life every cause of painful feeling
will be absent. Read the beautiful statement of the
Spirit respecting saved souls: "God shall wipe away
all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more
death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be
any more pain." No  more pain, either of mind or
body, to all eternity! What a stupendous consolation!
On the other hand there is to be fullness of joy for
evermore. God and the Lamb will anticipate and
satisfy every want of their nature. Every intellectual aspiration will be gratified in the study of God's
infinite being and productions, for they "shall SEE
HIM AS HIE IS." Every desire of the affections shall
be met with delightful response, for to them shall be
unfolded the meaning of that unfathomed truth,
"GOD IS LOVE."  Every shape of perfect beauty shall
charm the eye, and every sound of richest melody
shall delight the ear. Read the gorgeous imagery
by which the Revelator vainly sought to convey his
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impressions of the perfect purity and perfect bliss
which he beheld in his inspired visions. Having read
it, then consider his authoritative assertion: "IT
DOTH NOT YET APPEAR WHAT WE SHALL BE!" After
all God has revealed of heaven, the heights of-its
joys have never been scaled, the depths of its delights
have never been fathomed. Eye hath not seen it;
ear hath not heard it; nor hath human mind conceived it. It must be enjoyed to be understood.
Truly did the poet sing:
"We speak of the realms of the bless'd,
Of that country so bright and so fair;
And oft are its glories confess'd,
But what must it be to be thre I
"We speak of its pathways of gold,
Of its walls deck'd with jewels so rare,
Of its wonders and pleasures untold But what must it be to be there?"
Such, immortal youth, is life beyond the grave.
To the impenitent who do not obey the truth it is
"indignation, wrath, tribulation, and anguish." To
those who believe in the Saviour it is honor, glory, and
eternal felicity. Which of these vast extremes it will
be to you depends on yourself. It is the will of
Him "who loved you and gave himself for you,"
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that you should inherit the latter. But he leaves you
free to make your own choice. As you sow so shall
you reap. Sow to the flesh, remain impenitent, seek
your chief good in the earthly, and you must reap the
torment which fell to the lot of the rich man. Sow
to the Spirit by repentance, faith, love, and obedience, and you shall reap the unimaginable bliss of
heaven. To sow to the flesh and expect to reap
eternal life, is as foolish as it would be to expect to
gather a crop of figs from the sowing of thistle-seed.
If you sow the wind you must reap the whirlwind.
Which will you do? I advise, yea, I entreat you
to sow to the Spirit, for I know you cannot endure to
lie down in everlasting burnings. I know you must
desire your own happiness in eternity. Flee, then,
from the broad road in which you are now walking.
It leads to DEATH. Rush from it as you would
from the railway track if you saw the train dashing
upon you. By all your dread of pain, by all your
love of happiness, forsake it! By the value of your
immortal soul, by the love which gave the "only
begotten" for your salvation, by the love of Him who
laid down his life for you, I adjure you, forsake the
path which leadeth unto death, and enter the way
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170    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
which leadeth unto life. And what thou doest, do
quickly, for "the time is short."
"There is a death whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath;
O what eternal horrors hang
Around the second death!
"Thou God of truth and grace I
Teach me that death to shun;
Lest I be banished from thy face,
For evermore undone." 
I PRAY THtEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 171
CHAPTER  IX.
I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED.
IN his beautiful parable of the great supper, the
divine Teacher held a mirror before the hearts of
impenitent men who are intellectually convinced of
their duty, in which is reflected the grand reason why
they do not turn to Him. The invited guests to that
supper are described as sending in various excuses.
One wished to feast his eyes on a newly-purchased
piece of ground; another wanted to put a recentlybought yoke of oxen to the test; a third pleaded the
privileges of a bridegroom. These excuses are so
transparently frivolous that no reflecting reader can
fail to see that want of inclination was the true reason why these persons declined to be guests at that
supper. Had either of them possessed a spark of
desire to be present, the alleged difficulties would
either not have suggested themselves, or, being suggested, would have been pushed aside as mere pebbles
from their pathway. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
And is not want of inclination also the parent f
your excuses for neglecting your salvation, and the
grand reason why you stay away from Christ, my
dear young reader? Your sober judgment is convinced that your happiness, your safety, and your
duty all pointto the path of piety.  Look, then, into
the secret workings of your heart; be true to yourself; drag your skulking motives from behind your
array of excuses into broad daylight, and see if an
absolute disinclination to the service of Christ is not
the force that holds you back from him? Study
yourself, and see if your inclinations are not all running in the channels of worldliness and self-gratification? Tell me now honestly, frankly, but for your
disinclination to religious duty would not all the
excuses which drop so trippingly from your tongue
become lighter than the breath with which you utter
them?
It may be, however, that the deceitfiulness of sin so
obscures this disinclination that it is not clearly visible as yet to your self-inspective eye. If this is so,
then your excuses may be mixed with sincerity. They
may bear with more or less weight upon your volitions, and it may benefit you to see them placed in
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 17,3
the scales of truth. Will you permit me to weigh
some of them therein?
Perhaps you shrink from the prospective duties of a
religious life. You are unprepared for the sacrifices
it involves, for its probable requirements at your
hands, and therefore you say, "I pray thee have me
excused." The following fact may embody the spirit
of your excuse.
A young man of prepossessing aspect, intelligence,
and respectability, once visited my house as an inquirer after Christ. He was the subject of powerful
spiritual awakening, and was, so far as I could judge,
entirely sincere. I did my best to lead him to Christ,
but he found no peace for several weeks. I then concluded that some concealed difficulty stood between
him and Jesus. Pressing him closely, I drew from
him the confession that a conviction of his duty to
preach the Gospel after becoming a Christian had
sprung up in his heart. This was opposed to a darling plan of life which he had marked out for himself,
and which he could not persuade himself to abandon.
O how I pleaded with that noble youth to yield to his
conviction and to present himself unreservedly to the
Saviour! But I failed. The pride of his heart was 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
too strong, too stubborn, to be subdued even hy my
great Master, and the young man ceased to be a
visitor at my study. He remained a sinner; an
amiable, moral, attractive young man, but impelritent and  disobedient  to God.   Mark  the result!
Within two years a violent fever prostrated his
manly  form, beclouded his brilliant intellect, consumed the oil of his physical life, and sent his rebellious spirit unpardoned into the presence-chamber of
Him to whose bidding he had replied, "I will not."
Let this young man stand on the plains of life,
like Lot's wife in her shroud of salt on the vale of
Sodom, a warning to all who, like him, excuse themselves from coming to Christ because of some unwelcome prospective duty. What if my reader, after
being converted, will be called to speak of God's
goodness, to visit the sick and the poor, to exhort, to
preach the Gospel, to become a missionary, or to employ his skillful fingers and fertile brain in acquiring
money for the use of Christ? Does the certainty
of such a call dissolve his obligations to become a
Christian? Besides, who and what are you, precious
youth, that you should count any labor a disgrace, or
a burden even, which Christ can require at your
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 175
hands?  Are you not his creature?  Are you not so
absolutely a pauper in his presence as to own nothing
in the universe? Why, your very person belongs to
him, and you are honored by any task, however
lowly, which he may assign you. Place, then, the
pride of your poor spoiled heart beneath his feet, and
let him crush the foolish bubble. Tell him you count
it greater honor to wash the feet of his meanest disciples than to continue in your sins. And remember
that the seeming difficulties of religious duties will
mostly vanish the moment you are converted. The
Divine love shed abroad in your heart at that auspicious moment will make all things easy. It will
inspire motive, impart strength, and make all duties
not only possible but pleasant. Away, then, with
such excuses if you have cherished them. But if you
will persist in hugging them to your heart, fail not to
see your destiny mirrored in the end of that youth to
whom an excuse of this class was the millstone which
dragged him from the foot of the cross down to
regions of endless despair.
It may be that fear of the ridicule of your associates, of persecution from your personal friends or
family connections, or of some other evil which terri
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
fies your imagination, is your excuse. Admitting
your sincerity, I beg to whisper a word or two in
your ears by way of warning you against yielding to
that cowardly emotion, fear.
FEAR is of all things the most to be feared. It
never stimulated any man to noble deeds, never
achieved a triumph. On the contrary, it chills the
heart, paralyzes the arm, petrifies every manly aspiration, feeds like a cancer on a man's self-respect,
and degrades him in the estimation of men. It were
better to die the possessor of a fearless spirit than to
live a coward.
Among old England's heroic records there stands a
dishonored name. One of her admirals, commanding
a powerful fleet, met all enemy with a somewhat
superior force. Doubting his competency to win a
victory, and fearing defeat, that timid admiral refused
a proffered opportunity to closely engage his foe. He
did not fly. He did not decline to receive an attack.
But he did not energetically throw himself on his adversary, who, equally timid, finally sailed away. This
timidity, so unwonted in an English admiral, so unlike the heroic spirit of his race, roused a nation's
wrath, and ADMIRAL BYNG perished on the scaffold!
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 177
In contrast with this timid man, see the brave com
mander of a little army sent against the best fortified
city on the American continent. This city stood on
the summit of a high, precipitous bank, which rose
abruptly from a swiftly flowing river. Its ample
fortifications were well manned and armed. Many
bold men deemed its conquest impossible. But the
daring spirit of a WOLFE conceived that everything
is possible to him who has courage to attempt it with
adequate means. He resolved to try. Landing his
troops silently in the dead of night, he led them up,
by paths that seemed impracticable, to some heights
which commanded the city. When morning dawned
his astonished adversary found himself compelled to
fight or surrender. lie fought and was conquered.
The heroic Wolfe, while suffering mortal pain from a
musket ball which had pierced his breast, heard a
man shout, "They fly! they fly!"
"Who fly 2?" he asked.
"The French!" replied the voice
"Thank God! I die happy," he cried, and closed
his eyes in death.
These illustrations of a fearful and a heroic spirit
may  be regarded  as representative  facts.   They
12 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
should teach you to listen to the courageous rather
than to the timid instincts of your nature in consider
ing the difficulties which may confront you as you
enter on a religious life. If you are governed by fear
of persecution, of sacrifices, of trials, or of your own
powers of perseverance, like Admiral Byng, you will
meet with failure, disgrace, and death.  If, like the
undaunted Wolfe, you look defiantly at difficulties
and resolve to conquer them, you will, like him, win
victory and honorable renown. But with this significant difference: Byng's failure and Wolfe's victory
reached only to the human and the mortal. If you
fail you lose yourself and heaven; if you try and
conquer you win immortal honor, with unmeasured,
unending bliss.
Will you, then, refrain from seeking the Christian
life through coward fear? Shall frowns, harsh words,
cynical sneers, and apprehended  trials of feeling
frighten you from the gateway of the pleasant life?
Are such fears manly?  Are they worthy of your
high capacities?  Rather, do you not despise yourself for submitting, like a crouching slave, to their
dictation?  Rise, then, my young, friend!  Assert the
dignity of your manhood!  Listen to your soul's
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 179
heroic voices. In the strife of the spiritual battlefield, be a Wolfe in daring, and you shall become a
saint by winning the victory.
The puny rain-drop assaults the sturdy granite.
Gliding into a slight fracture it invites the aid of
frost and heat until, by expanding, it splits the rock
asunder. In like manner do daring souls subdue
mountains of opposition. In fact, opposition grappled is half overcome, and few Christians have found
the actual trials of their early spiritual career half as
terrible as their anticipations painted them. Even
that most dreaded evil, persecution from our dearest
friends, is usually found to lose half its fierceness
when met in the spirit of meek decision. If you
have an impenitent and persecuting father or
mother, whose dreaded frowns keep you from
coming to Christ, the following fact may encourage
you.
"If you go again to hear such preachers I will turn
you out of doors, sir!" said a stern father, one day,
to his son who had become awakened under the
preaching of an evangelical minister.
The young man trembled, for he knew his father
was capable, if roused, of becoming a man of iron. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Yet so powerful were his convictions that he was led,
in spite of his fears, to seek Christ in the prohibited
church. A singular scene occurred there. The troubled manner of the youth arrested the eye of the preach
er, and turning to a member of his Church he said:
"Brother! do you repent of coming to Christ?"
"No, sir," replied the man firmly, "I never was
happy till I came. I only repent that I did not come
to him sooner."
The minister then turned to a venerable father in
his Church, and said: " Brother, do you repent of
coming to Christ?"
"No, sir," the old man replied, "I have known the
Lord from my youth upward."
The preacher now fixed his eye on the young man,
and in tones of great tenderness said:
"Young man, are you willing to come to Christ?"
Finding himself thus made the object of universal
attention, the young man bowed his head. At length,
encouraged by the whispers of a Christian brother, he
arose and said in a voice tremulous with emotion:
Yes, sir?"
"But when?" asked the minister very solemnly.
"Now, sir!" replied the young man, with a firm
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 181
ness of tone that showed the irrevocable decision
which his soul had made.
Having taken this stand he was afraid to meet his
father. With a bursting heart he told the minister
that the purpose he had formed made him homeless.
"Fear not," the good man replied, soothingly; "I
will write your father a letter; perhaps the spirit of
God will lead him to a better mind."
The letter was written and sent.  It calmed the
tempest in the father's soul. He tolerated his son's
presence.   He took his wife and went to hear the
Gospel for himself. It subdued him. It converted
his wife also, and that young man, instead of becoming homeless, found his home more loving and blissful than it had ever been before.   The cloud which
lowered so terribly over him was big, not with
storms of rage, but with dew-drops of sweetest
blessing.
Here is another fact to the same point. A young
lady being powerfully awakened, took her seat with a
band of inquiring souls as a seeker of religion. The
next day her betrothed met her and said:
"'Well, Mary, I understand you have become a
Methodist." 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
' No," she replied, "I am not a Methodist, but I
am endeavoring to become a Christian."
"Well," said her -intended, speaking in a pert tone,
"if you are going to be a Methodist it is time for
you and me to part."
"Very well," rejoined the lady with great firmness,
"just as you please; good evening, sir!" and bowing
gracefully to him, she walked to church. There she
again took her seat with other penitent souls; and
there the presence of a pardoning God filled her
heart, and amply compensated her for the sacrifice
she had made. But how great was her joy, on rising
from her knees, to see her betrothed kneeling humbly
at the altar. Her decision had startled him into
concern for his own soul's welfare.   By consenting
to sacrifice her heart's most precious earthly affection,
she gained the love of heaven and won back her
earthly lover, not as she had surrendered him, but
elevated into the highest style of man.
It may be thus with your apprehended difficulties,
dear reader.  God is able to bring water from the
rock to quench your thirst. He can command the
waters of the river to stand up in heaps to give you
passage. He can throw down the mightiest walls in
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 183
leading you on to victory. Therefore fear not, young
seeker after Christ. God, even the God you desire to
know, speaks these words to thee: "Say to them that
are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold
your God will come with vengeance, even God with
a recompense: HE WILL COME AND SAVE YOU!"
It sometimes pleases God to let the rage of the
wicked burn like a flame of fire around those who
seek his face. In times of open persecution, to
profess Christ was to invoke the pains and penalties
of martyrdom, and not unfrequently did the newborn believer find his worst foes in his own household. It must have been a fearful trial indeed, for
the child to hear himself denounced at a heathen or
an inquisitorial tribunal by his own father, and to be
condemned to death on the testimony of her who
bore him. Such opposition as this you cannot suffer.
It is not permitted in these happier times. But what
if it did await you? Would you be justified in
refusing to come to Christ, even if your parents were
ccrtain to drag you from the seat of the penitent to
the pyre of martyrdom with their own hands? Even
in such a sad extremity of trial, would it not still be
your duty to crush the fear of man in the dust, and 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
boldly approach the cross, treading the path of blood?
Should you shrink from such a fiery trial, would not
the voice of Christ justly reprove you, saying: "He
that loveth father or mother more than me is not
worthy of me?"
How then can you dare to excuse yourself for
staying away from Christ because of the compara tively trifling opposition which frowns upon you?
Ought you not to fear the anger of God rather than
that of man?  "Fear ye not me? saith the Lord.
Will ye not tremble at my presence which have
placed the sand for the bound of the sea, by a porpetual decree, that it cannot pass it: and though the
waves toss themselves, yet can they not prevail;
though they roar yet can they not pass over it?"
Consider this question, timid youth, and teach your
fears wisdom by weighing well this further counsel of
your neglected Saviour: "Fear not them that kill the
body, but are not able to kill the soul; but rather fear
him which, after he hath killed, hath power to cast
into hell; yea, I say unto you, FEAR HIM!"
It may be that you are a son or daughter of mirth.
You love gayety. Your language, if a young lady, is,
"I can't give up my amusements. I belong to a
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 185
select circle of merry associates. We have delightful
sociables, private balls, and we often make up a
splendid party to the opera or theater. Besides, I
am passionately fond of novel reading. I can't give
up these pleasures, and therefore'I pray thee have
me excused.'"
Perhaps the reader is a young man, and his plea
is: "I belong to a club.  Our meetings are occasions
of rare jollity. We often take jaunts into the country, at which we joke, we sing, we dance, we drink.
Indeed, we keep up a constant round of pleasures,
which I can't give up for the sake of religion, and
therefore'I pray thee have me excused.'"
Possibly, however, a young man looks on these
pages who makes no verbal plea. He dare not
frame his excuse into words, but his will is bound to
a life of sin by the chain of some criminal habit.
Often, under the shadows of night, he creeps to some
haunt of infamy, to indulge his excited passions in
acts forbidden by God and by public sentiment.
Though outwardly demure he is secretly a profligate,
a gambler, a slave of her whose feet take hold of
death.  His darling vice controls his passions.  He
is a bird feeding greedily within the meshes of a 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
fowler's net, and while he gives no verbal reason
for his plea, he also says,  "I pray thee have me
excused."
To these and all others who prefer their fleshly
and worldly lusts to God, I commend the following
fact:
A lady was once talking eloquently in favor of
theatrical performances.  "They afford me three distinct pleasures," she remarked;  "the pleasure of
anticipation, the pleasure of beholding them, and the
pleasure of reflecting upon them afterward."
1" Pardon me, madam,"  said a clergyman,  who
heard her remark, "but you have forgotten to name
a fourth pleasure afforded by the theater."
"Indeed, sir!" she replied, "what can that be?"
Looking solemnly at her the clergyman gravely
said: "The pleasure of reflecting upon it in the hour
of death!"
The lady started as if a serpent had stung her.
She felt that her favorite amusement would not afford
material for agreeable reflection on a death-bed.
With true wisdom she concluded that pleasures
which would not bear to be reflected on in the hour
of death were not fit to be indulged in during life,
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I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 187
and acting upon this conviction, she exchanged the
pleasures of sin'for the richer delights of the pleasant
way. Would that my reader could be persuaded to
imitate her example.
I have read of monarchs who lost their kingdoms
by abandoning themselves to the lusts of the flesh; of
men who to gratify their passion for gambling have
beggared themselves, and, at least in legends, of
others who, for greed of gold, ambition, or pleasure,
have bargained their souls to Satan. In all such
cases the folly of the parties is painfully preposterous.
But is the folly of my reader less? They were
foolish because they gave property, life, soul, for
such paltry considerations. They sold the valuable
for the valueless, the precious for the vile. Does not
the reader do the same? For trifling indulgences,
for a few years of unsatisfying pleasures, for really
less of this life than religion would give him, he
rejects the smile of God, the lofty enjoyments of
Divine communion, and the felicities of eternal life.
He sacrifices heaven at the shrine of earth; he gives
the infinite for the finite; the eternal for the moment
ary and perishing. This is folly's climax. This is a
deed at which heaven itself is astonished, and in 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
presence of which even God himself exclaims:
"Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and be horribly
afraid; be ye very desolate, saith the Lord, for my
people have committed two evils; they have forsaken
me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out
cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water"
God sometimes deals in a very summary manner
with such as you, my pleasure-loving reader.  Here
is an example.
A young lady of fifteen was deeply convicted.
She resisted the Spirit and lost her religious feelings
in the pursuits of worldly pleasure. When eighteen
her convictions returned. They were more powerful
than before.   Her pastor urged her to decide for
Christ, but to all his entreaties she replied:
"I can't be a Christian now."
Speaking of this reply to a female friend, she said:
"I would have yielded to my convictions, only I had
engaged to attend a ball on the coming fourth of
July."
Disappointed girl! On the day of that fatal ball
she followed the corpse of her father to the tomb! A
few weeks later she too became the victim of death.
She died without hope or feeling. She sold her soul
188 
I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 189
for a ball, but lost the paltry price, although she paid
the terrible forfeit.
If you are a candidate for the rewards of mammon,
and excuse yourself because you wish to devote yourself to money-making, you are exposed. to the same
censures and dangers as the children of mirth. When
you lift up your eyes in hell, and see heaven afar off,
the thought, "I sold that infinite bliss for base gold,"
will.torment your soul with inconceivable pain. Remember, "Treasures of wickedness profit nothing;
but righteousness delivereth from death."
It may be that none of these things lie at the basis
of your excuse, but your heart whispers, "I am afraid
[ shall not obtain religion if I seek it, and then I shall
be laughed at; or, if I should find it, I should not be
able to hold out; and therefore I pray thee have me
excused."
If, precious youth, you had to meet an unwillingness in God to save you, there would be some
grounds for your fear. But mark! God is seeking
to save you. He wills your salvation. He is "not
willing that any should perish, but that all should
come to repentance." Christ has died for you. The
Holy Spirit convinces you of sin and strives to con. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
duct you to the cross. Millions, just such as you are,
have sought and found mercy. God's faithfulness to
his word of promise has never been broken. No,
not in a single instance. The way to the Saviour is
so straight and plain that even little children can find
him. Your failure is therefore impossible if you are
in earnest; for "WHOSOEVER WILL" may come and
partake of the water of life freely. Blessed be God!
When  ALEXANDER THE GREAT was  assaulting a
city in India, he was the first to scale the walls.
Four of his officers joined him, when the scalingladder broke and the monarch stood almost alone,
exposed to all the fury of his enemies.  What could
he do?  Leap back to his army below?  That would
turn them backward and lose the city. What then 2?
Why, leap into the midst of his foes, trust to his
good sword, and bide the help of his troops. He did
so, placing his back against the wall of the fort and
fighting with heroic courage until his soldiers came to
his rescue and victory crowned his banners.
Now, if you will throw yourself into the work of
seeking God with the resolute spirit of this warriorking, there is no possibility of your failure to find
his mercy; and if,- with equal resolution, you pursue 
I PRAY THEE HAVE ME EXCUSED. 191
your way, after being pardoned, there is little proba.
bility of your apostasy. God seeketh you! God
will help you! Be in earnest, and you will be saved;
for "EvERY ONE that asketh receiveth; and he that
seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be
opened."
Away then, beloved youth, with all your wicked
excuses. They are all the language of sinful disinclination. They are all lighter than the froth of the
sea, baseless as the fabric of a vision, unreasonable as
folly's idlest blab. Away with them. Drag your
reluctant spirit to the feet of Christ. Struggle against
your own disinclination. Read the word of God
faithfully.  Cry out against yourself in the ear of the
Almighty. Turn your face toward him, resolving if
you perish to do so at his feet crying for mercy, and,
believe me, no soul can perish there!
I  
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
CHAPTER X.
THE PRQCRASTINATOR'S DOOM.
IMAGINE yourself the inmate of a cell in some great
prison. See a small tank suspended in a corner, with
its top so close to the ceiling that you cannot look
upon its contents. An unseen pipe conducts water
to it in single drops. Suppose that you are under
sentence of death, and that you are to be led out to
die the moment after the first drop of water overflows the tank and falls upon the prison-floor!  Would
you not tremble as you heard the unceasing pat, pat,
pat, of those terrible water-drops falling day and
night?  While you slept and while you were awake,
while you ate and while you drank, ever and always
they would keep dropping, slowly but surely filling
up the fatal cistern, and bringing on the dreadful moment in which the signal-drop would flow over the
edge, roll down the side, and fall with a death-dealing
splash upon the floor of your cell.  Such an imprison
192 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 193
ment and such a doom are too painful to dwell
upon.
And yet, beloved youth, this terrible picture is but
a dim image of your actual relations to God and
eternity. Your immortal soul is imprisoned in its
cell of clay, and is under sentence of eternal death.
True, that sentence is held in suspension to give you
opportunity either to seek its reversal and be saved,
or "to fill up the measure of your iniquities" and be
damned. Every moment of your life spent in alienation from God adds a drop to the already large
amount of your transgression, and contributes to fill
up the "measure of your iniquities."  When that is
accomplished you will be eternally ruined. The Spirit
will forsake you, the god of this world will bind you
with chains of steel to the death-cart, and when
Divine Justice gives the signal, will drive you forth
and cast you into the bottomless pit.   "Every tree
that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and
cast into the fire."
How full of real terror, therefore, is your present
condition, would you but open your eyes and unseal
your ears! Would you reflect, every act of sin, every
moment's neglect to come to Jesus, would sound like
13 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
the drop of water in your prison's tank, and you would
tremble, lest, the "measure of your iniquities" being
filled, the Spirit of grace should forsake you and seal
you over to "hardness of heart and blindness of mind"
for evermore. Pause, therefore, beloved youth. Add
not another sin to that fatal measure.  Say not, "I
will seek Christ by and by, but not now." Tarry not
in the way of the procrastinator, for danger and death
lurk there like robbers lying in wait for the unwary
traveler.
When the ROMANS sought occasion to begin the
second Punic war, they sent embassadors to state their
demands to the Carthaginian Senate.  The reply of
that body not being satisfactory, one of the Romans
took up the folded lappet of his robe, and said, in a
haughty tone:
"I bring here either peace or war, the choice is left
to yourselves!"
"And we leave the choice to you," replied the
Senate.
"I give you war, then," said the Roman, unfolding
his robe as he spoke.
"And we as heartily accept it," retorted the senators
of Carthage, in tones as haughty as those of the Roman.
194
r 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 195
I presume, my reader, you shrink from giving ut.
terance to such daring words as fell from the lips of
the men of Carthage, when the demands of Jehovah
are pressed upon you by his embassadors. Like the
Roman deputies, they bring you the alternative of
peace or war, life or death; the choice is left to you.
In your case, however, God prefers peace between
you and himself. He desires you to choose life, because he is "not willing that any should perish, but
that all should come to repentance." Still, the choice
is left to you. It has been pressed upon you for
years. It is urged upon you now. Since your first
hour of accountability, the Holy Ghost has stood before you constantly, saying: "If it seem evil unto you
to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye
will serve:" "Behold, now is the accepted time;
behold, now is the day of salvation!"
Have you met this demand in a brave, manly
manner? Like the men of Carthage, have you spoken
your mind freely, and, in the language of the husbandman's son, said to your Maker, "I will not serve
thee?" No, you have not had the hardihood to rush
with such a daring answer on the sword of his anger.
But you have used crafty words, saying, "I will serve 
196    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
thee, Lord, but not now. I will seek thy face, but
not to-day. In some future hour of convenience I
will make my peace with thee: for the present I must
enjoy the profits and the pleasures of sin."
Foolish youth! can you imagine that God is deceived by such silly craftiness as this? Does he not
look with searching eye into your heart and see the
cowardice which begot those words of procrastination?
Does he not know that but for your indestructible
consciousness of his power to cast you into hell, your
reply to him would be as haughty, as decided, as
daring as that of the senators of Carthage to the
Roman deputy? Does he not also know that your
words are equivalent to an absolute rejection of his
service? What have you to do with to-morrow? Is
not your life a passing cloud, an exhaling dew-drop, a
fading flower! Knowing this, he does not ask you
what you will do to-morrow. His inquiry is, Will
you serve me to-day? And when you reply in words
of procrastination, you do in effect meet the Divine
demand with a positive refusal. It is the same as if
you said, "I will not!"
0 how wicked it is to procrastinate! Aversion,
cowardice, falsehood, rebellion, ingratitude, and folly 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 197
are all included in it.  Moreover, it is a sin which
proclaims its own abominable wickedness. Why do
you, young procrastinator, only defer instead of absolutely declining the service of God? Is not your
promise of future obedience an admission of his eternal
right to claim all the service you are able to give, and
of your obligations to render it? You know it is so.
You also know that your promise to give him your
heart "by and by" is a miserable, cowardly subterfuge, by which you secretly flatter yourself he will
be so propitiated as to wink at your present wicked
rejection of his love. Hence, your purpose to serve
God in the future  stamps the brand of deliberate
wickedness on your present conduct.  It is a proclamation to men, angels, and devils, by which you
declare that, although you know it is your duty to
give your heart to Christ, yet you are determined to
trample upon his claims and your own obligations,
and to spend the choicest portion of your life in sinning against the love which bought your pardon with
the blood of the only begotten Son!
This is wickedness indeed-open, unblushing, conscious, contemptuous, dastardly wickedness! The immoralities of an ignorant heathen, or papist, are venial 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
when compared with the sin of procrastination in one
whose path, from the cradle to this solemn hour, has
been radiant with beams of light and love from the
Sun of righteousness, and overhung with the richly
laden branches of the tree of life. It is of itself sufficient to justify your being driven into everlasting
banishment from the "presence of God and the glory
of his power."  It is a sin by which you tread Under
foot the Son of God," count "the blood of the
covenant an unholy thing," and do "despite unto
the Spirit of grace!"  Believe me, procrastination is
a deadly sin.,
It is also as dangerous as it is abominable. Perhaps there is no other sin so successful in beguiling
hearers of the Gospel into perdition, as procrastination.
Hell is crowded with its victims, and millions of living
youth, now walking in the road to destruction, are
kept there by its necromantic spells.
Inr Spenser's "Faerie Queen," the REDCROSS KNIGHT,
enthralled by the blandishments of the false Duessa,
is led into the wooded domain of a savage giant.
Seeking repose beneath the shade of the forest trees
he finds a fountain,
"Where bubbling wave did ever freshly well."
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THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 199
Ignorant of its qualities he quaffs its crystal waters,
when,
"Eftsoones his manly forces'gan to fayle,
And mightie strong was turned to feeble frayle."
While the knight is weak from the effects of these
enchanted waters, the giant comes forth, "hideous,
horrible, and high," and challenges him to battle.
But  the poor  knight, "faint in every joint  and
vein," is no match for such a foe. After a feeble
defense he falls before the giant's might, and is borne
with "hasty force" to the castle of his conqueror, and
thrown, "without remorse," into a "dungeon deep."
This romantic fancy of the poet aptly illustrates
one of the evil influences of procrastination. As
that enchanted fount enervated the Redcross knight,
so does procrastination narcotize your conscience and
make your will " feeble frayle." For proof of this,
'consult your own experience. When your moral
nature is aroused by the voices of truth, how do you
manage to lull it to slumber? Do you not do it by
drinking of the waters of procrastination?  "By and
by I will seek the Lord," you say, and forthwith your
conscience is overcome by the lassitude of sleep, and
then you are "led captive by the devil at his will." Is 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
it not so? And is it not equally true, that your habit
of procrastination has reduced your conscience to
such an habitually slumberous condition that it rarely
utters its protests against your life of sinful pleasure
and wicked unbelief? You know this is its state;
and it being so, are you not in danger of sinking into a
state of absolute moral insensibility 2? Then you will
cease to have even the fear of God before your eyes.
Then what will become of your oft-repeated promise
to serve God 2? Will you not be likely to despise it
and to die impenitent?
See that bright-eyed maiden, seated on the green
bank of yonder running stream. Her heart is gay,
and her hands are filled with flowers of beauty rare.
Full of sportive feeling she casts a flower into the
stream, claps her little white hallds, and smiles to see
it float away upon the sunlit water. One by one she
throws her flowers away, until the last is gone. And
now she weeps, wishes she had kept them, and vainly
cries to the unconscious stream, "Give me back my
flowers!"
In this maiden's folly you may see another evil influence of procrastination. It is beguiling you of
your time as the stream beguiled the child of her
200 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 201
flowers. Hours are precious opportunities, especially
those sacred ones in which serious thoughts give
birth to anxious questionings about the soul. Such
hours are worth more than rubies. They are the
golden periods of the "accepted time."  If properly
employed they would yield you eternal salvation.
But every act of procrastination casts one of them
into the stream of time. Having flung away one
such priceless opportunity by delay, it is easy to
throw away a second, and easier still to waste a third.
Repeating these acts creates a habit by force of
which the mind comes at last to spontaneously,
almost unconsciously, postpone its religious duties as
regularly as they are presented to it. As a consequence the original promise to seek God is not kept.
The  "convenient time "-the  imaginary  "by and
by " —never arrives, for before it comes the procrastinator is surprised by the summons of death, and
drops, with his violated promises, into the lake of
everlasting damnation. As saith the poet:
"The hoary fool, who many days
Has struggled with continued sorrow,
Renews his hope, and fondly lays
The desperate bet upon to-morrow. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"To-morrow comes!'Tis noon;'tis night!
This day like all the former flies;
Yet on he goes to seek delight
To-morrow, when to-night he dies!"
"He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his
neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without
remedy."
Suddenly destroyed/  What  a fearful thought!
After so many day-dreams of prospective godliness,
to be suddenly driven into hell is a sad close to a
life so full of hopeful beginnings as yours. Yet God
has spoken it. Sudden destruction is your doom if
you continue to "harden your necky  by delaying
your duty. You may see how God often treats
such as you are in the following facts:
Three young men, with axes on their shoulders,
were on their way to the woods one morning, when
they met a minister who spoke earnest words to
them on the subject of their salvation. Two of them
listened seriously; the third pointed, with gayety in
his manner, to a distant house and said:
" Do you see that splendid white house on yonder
farm?"
"Yes."
"Well, sir, that estate has been willed to me by
202 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 203
my uncle. There are incumbrances upon it which I
must remove before the farm can be fully mine. As
soon as I have paid them all off I mean to become
a Christian."
The minister sighed, looked affectionately at the
youth, and replied: "Ah, young man, beware!  You
may never see that day. While you are gaining the
world you may lose your soul!"
"1'll run the risk!" rejoined the confident heir.
They parted. The minister, went his way seeking
other souls for his Lord.  The young men entered
the woodlands and began chopping. The ax of the
young heir cut deeply into an old tree with swift
repeated strokes. He saw not a huge dead branch
which trembled above him as his sturdy blows
fell on the trunk beneath. But the jar of his
ax shook it off, and it fell with a fearful crash upon
his head, and stretched him dead upon the ground!
He  was  "suddenly  destroyed,  and  that without
remedy!"
Take another fact. A young lady joined the Sabbath school in a church of which I was pastor at the
time. The teacher, who was very pious, spoke to her
concerning her soul.  "Time enough yet," said the 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
girl, laughing, "I am only sixteen years old.  I n,.a
to enjoy the world a year or two before I seek
religion."
Two Weeks from the hour in which she gave utter ance to those idle words, I stood beside her corpse
exhorting a crowded audience to beware how, like
her, they postponed until to-morrow the work God
required them to perform to-day. She, too, was
"suddenly destroyed."
God is in earnest with you, young immortal, and
he wishes you to be in earnest with him. His rights
over you, his mercies to you, his great gift of his
Son's life, are objects of infinite importance to him.
He will not permit you to trifle with them with impunity. Yet, what is procrastination but a wicked
trifling with these solemn realities? What deliberate
contempt you pour on the smile of God, on the blood
of Jesus, on the Holy Spirit, when you coolly bid
them stand aside until you are at leisure to Wept
them?  You postpone his offer of love and mercy!
Think of it. You, a mere moth whom he could
destroy with a glance of his eye, postpone the acceptance of the Almighty's richest gift. You, a ruined
sinner, defer acceptance of that loving help without 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 205
which you must be endlessly wretched. What insensate pride!  What unparalleled madness!  Surely if
God's patience were not infinite, he would smite you
with sudden destruction for daring to insult him by
postponing your acceptance of the great salvation.
But, blessed be his holy name! he is very long-suffering, and therefore he endures much from you.
Still it is dangerous to trifle with this gracious
long-suffering. Deep as it is, it may be sounded with
the line of willful presumption. The ancient Jews
did this, and God swore in his wrath: "They shall
not enter into my rest." The burial of a whole generation in the sands of the desert testified Jehovah's
faithfulness to that terrible oath.  "Wherefore, as the
Holy Ghost saith, To-day if ye will hear his voice
harden not your heart." Nothing grieves and angers
your Creator more than the presumptuous trifling
which is involved in the habit of procrastination.
Lists to the hoarse voice of your insulted God and
tremble.  He says::
"Because I have called and ye refused;... ye have
set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my
reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity: I will
mock when your fear cometh."
ii —. 
206    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
I will laugh at your calamity! Awful words,
pregnant with manifold horrors! Your calamity /
What will that be? What, but a heart forsaken of
God, blinded by the "god of this world," given over
to hardness and unbelief, abandoned by the Holy
Spirit, damned this side of the grave?  And when
you have brought this "calamity" upon yourself, He
with whom you have so long trifled will pity no more,
but he will "laugh!"  When  your "fear cometh,"
as come it must, he will not fly to your relief but
will "MocK!" because you "did not choose the fear
of the Lord."
Beware then, thou child of many prayers, how you
tempt God to bring this calamity upon you by the
withdrawal of his Holy Spirit.   Has he not said,
"Grieve not the Holy Spirit!" "Quench not the
Spirit!"  " If ye  seek him  he will be found o0
you; but if ye forsake him, he will forsake you."
I cannot tell you when, at what age, or by what
partkcular act the Spirit is quenched; but, ret
member,
"There is a time, we know not when,
A point we know not where,
That marks the destiny of men
To glory or despair." 
TiE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOm. 207
That you may feel these threats of spiritual abandonment are more than empty sounds, I will sketch
a fact or two, from among thousands of similar cases,
in which persons have been awfully conscious of
having crossed the line of doom.
"Have  you never  felt- concern for your  soul,
madam?" said a minister to a lady who was about
thirty years old.
"Yes," she replied, "I think thatfew have felt as I
did once."
"At what period of life, madam?"
"When I was about fifteen," said she, "I felt myself a sinner. I could not sleep. For three years I
seldom had peace a week at a time.  I knew the
Spirit was striving with me and that I ought to yield.
But I loved the pleasures of youth. I banished
thoughts of eternity. I read novels and romances,
which gave me relief awhile, but my distress re.
turned. At last I went to the ball-room, and I
have never had religious feelings since!"
The minister sighed, and asked,  "Have you  no
fears lest you have grieved away the Holy Spirit 2?"
"I have no doubt of it, and I shall be lost," said the
lady, with the utmost coolness. 
208    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
The good minister was profoundly moved. He
pleaded with earnest words and sympathetic tears,
begging her to try the effect of prayer. Vain
attempt! She arose, waved her hand, and as she
retired from the room, said:
"All this has been tried upon me before.
Nothing that you or any other man can say on
that subject can move me now. MY DOOM IS
FIXED!"
Let me pencil another illustration. An impenitent
old man was asked, "Did you ever feel the importance of religion?"
"Yes, when I was young I often had serious times,"
he said.
"When did you feel most?"
"When I was seventeen I felt deeply, at times, and
for two or three years after. I resolved, however, to
put it off until I was settled in life. After I was
married I again felt that I ought then to begin my re.
ligious life. But I had bought a farm, and I thought,
as it would cost time and money to attend church, I
would save the expense until I paid for my farm. I
resolved to put off being a Christian for ten years.
The ten years passed, but I thought no more about it. 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 209
I often try to think now, but cannot keep my mind on
the subject one moment!"
"Try, do try, my  friend," entreated the minister,
"for God is gracious."
"It is too late," said the gray-headed patriarch;
"I believe my doom is sealed, and it is just it should
be so, for the Spirit strove long with me, but I
refused."
Reader, can you endure the thought of becoming
so petrified in heart as to be "past feeling," like this
man and that lady? You cannot, I know. The bare
idea quickens your heartthrobs. You shrink before
it as from the brink of a frightful gulf. It is well
you have such feelings; but remember that every
purpose of delay, every excuse offered, every mental
act of resistance to the Spirit, is a step toward their
doom. I do not affirm that without instant repentance you will certainly enter the iron cage of
stern despair in which they were shut up, for you
may find the wicket-gate hereafter. But fail not to
consider that you are in the very path by which they
walked into that cage! Is not that fact conclusive
proof of your danger? Should it not be to you as
the angel in the way of Balaam? Heed it, study it,
14 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
be moved by it, and rest not until, like Bunyan's pilgrim, you turn your back upon a sinful life, and, with
God's book in your hand, are found in the way to the
celestial city. O hasten, hasten, young sinner,
"Hasten, mercy to implore I
Stay not for the morrow's sun,
Lest thy season should be o'er
Ere this evening's stage be rim."
Sometimes the Spirit remains with the stubborn
procrastinator to show him his guilt, but not to light
his wayward feet to the cross. The following examples are in point.
A gay young man, charmed by the voices of sinful pleasures, threw away his hours of opportunity,
silencing the reproofs of his faithful conscience by
promises of what he would do by and by. In the
heyday of his delights a mortal disease took possession of the chamber of life and bade him depart
quickly to the realms of death. He shuddered at the
thought of meeting his neglected Creator. A friend
pointed him to the cross of Jesus, saying:
"Look to Christ. His promises of mercy are very
precious. His Gospel is a balm for all the wounds
which sin has made in your soul."
210 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 211
With despair in his flashing eyes, and agony in his
hollow voice, the youth replied:
"True, but that Gospel which- I have despised
through my life AFFORDS ME NO BALM IN MY DEATH.
There is no mercy for me now!"
Having spoken thus, he closed his eyes and shortly
afterward expired. Procrastination had robbed him
of eternal life.
Three students, high in spirits and vigorous of
limb, were bathing in a river at a small distance
above its falls. After swimming for a while, they
agreed to float down the stream. The calmly flowing
waters bore them gently along, until, having approached the falls, the students felt that the velocity
of the current was increasing rapidly. Two of them,
feeling alarmed, swam at once for the shore, from
which they hailed their companion, and begged him
not to risk his life by floating any farther. But he
only laughed and said, "It is pleasant floating."
Then his companions, trembling at his fool-hardi
ness, shouted:
"Make for the shore, or you will go over the falls."
Again  he  laughed,  and  replied, "It is pleasant
floating." 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
A moment more, and he felt the current sweeping
him along with alarming swiftness. Then he was
terrified, and with strong efforts tried to swim ashore.
0 how he struggled against that remorseless stream.
Vain attempt! The roaring waters mocked his
anguish, drowned his cries, and hurried him to his
fate. Soon, alas! how soon, he reached the awful
brink. Then, throwing out his arms, he leaped up,
uttered a piercing shriek, and was dragged by the
mighty arms of the flood down into the boiling abyss
below.
Mournful spectacle! And yet is it not a picture of
the manner in which a class of procrastinators reach
their doom? It is pleasant floating, said that ill-fated
youth, thinking he would swim away from the falls
when the danger became imminent. It is pleasant
sinning, cries the procrastinator, to the friends of his
soul, who vainly try to call him from the brink of the
pit; and he too thinks he will stop sinning in time to be
saved; yes, it is pleasant sinning when the voices of
the Spirit are lost in the noises of dissipation, and the
drugged conscience slumbers in some out-of-the-way
corner of the soul.   But is not the awakening terri.
ble when the roaring waters warn the unhappy child
212 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 213
of delay that he is on the brink of that mysterious
gulf we call eternity? What alarm startles him
then!  What horror thrills him!  What shrinking!
What struggling! What a vain leaping back from
destiny! What overwhelming ruin closes his career!
The following facts are in point:
A pastor once besought one of his regular hearers
to seek a personal interest in Christ. With a laugh
upon her lips, she replied:
"0, I shall only wantfive minutes when I am dying
to cry for mercy, and I have no doubt God Almighty
will give it me.'?
With tearful eyes and earnest words that pastor
besought the infatuated woman not to presume so
daringly on the forbearance of God. Again and
again he urged her to immediate repentance; again
and again she repeated her presumptuous words. Her
heart was hardened against God. Mark the result.
One day, as the pastor was walking down the
street, a young woman, greatly excited, ran up to
him and exclaimed:
"0 Mr. East, I have found you!  Do come to my
mother, sir! Come this minute, sir! She is dying!"
With rapid steps the good man followed the agi. 
214    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
tated girl. Judge his surprise when he entered the
death-chamber and the agonized features of the presumptuous procrastinator, with whom he had so
vainly labored, met his eye! She was at the point
of death. Turning her expiring eyes upon her pastor, she cried out in piercing tones:
"0O Mr. East, I am damned! I am damned!"
Horror-struck, the good pastor stepped to her bedside with words of mercy on his lips. But it was too
late. Her spirit was struggling in the abysmal
depths of infinite despair!
Now let me lead you into an old Moorish-looking
stone building in the town of Monterey.  Open the
door gently, for see! on that little cot lies a young
lieutenant in the American army. He is sick, very
sick. A military friend is bending over his feverish
body. Hark! they are talking. Let us listen.
"How do you feel to-night?" asks the soldier in a
whisper.
The sick man stares vacantly at the questioner.
Now he speaks:  "I must die-die-yes  DIE, and
see my home no more!"
He pauses again, but soon speaks in a louder
voice:- "But the past! the future!   The past! a 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 215
scene of hardship and toil-a jealous striving to be
great; a mere vacuum, void of everything save con.
science.  The future! ah, the terrible future! Hope?
hope is extinct. I am irretrievably lost-a curse to
existence, a miserable, degraded wretch!"
Now he is silent. The cemetery clock strikes
eleven!  The dying soldier speaks again: "What!"
he exclaims, "has the clock tolled another hour and
still I exist?  O that I had never had a being!"
See him stretch out his arms as if reaching after
something.  Hear himeery, "Mother! mother! save
me! save your son!"
He is quiet again and gazes into vacuity. Once
more he cries: "Come back! come back! - but no,
she has left me."
His strength is gone. He falls back upon his
couch. An hour passes. He slowly articulates,
"God-is-just!"  and as the church-bell tolls the
midnight hour his soul passes into eternity.
Such is the doom of the procrastinator. A death
full of anguish, or a heart forsaken of God, and therefore hard as granite, is his lot. In either case a herio
tage of endless calamity is his destiny. Reader, do
you wish to sink beneath such a weary weight of 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
woe?  Are you prepared to be abandoned of God?
If not, then, by all that is terrible in the thought, delay not another moment the duty which ought to have
been done years ago. Now, before you lay aside this
book, record your solemn purpose to "flee from the
wrath to come." Resolve, O resolve to turn at once
from sin to God. Jesus calls thee. Hark!
"Jesus knocketh at thy heart,
Rise and let him in;
Knocketh with a bleeding hand,
Wounded for thy sin.
Jesus knocketh night and day,
Waiting at thy side;
Canst thou turn the Lord away?
Scorn the Crucified?"
Jesus loves you!  Did he not shed his blood because of the love he bore you? Has he not wept
over you, interceded for you, striven with you, done
all that infinite love guided by wisdom could devise
to save you? Could he have done more than he has
done? Why then will you longer refuse to give him
your heart?
Jesus seeks you!  Never did shepherd seek a lost
sheep as faithfully as Jesus has sought to win your
soul to his service. Do you remember those loving
216 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 217
thoughts of God, those solemn melting moods of
mind, those tears of transient penitence, those breathings of desire, those inward warnings which have so
often come upon you ever since the days of your
childhood?2 They were the whispers, the motions,
the breathings of Jesus. He was seeking thee. He
seeks thee now.  Will you bid him go empty away?
Why will you destroy yourself? Can you endure
everlasting burnings? Can you afford to lose the
joys of religion here and of heaven hereafter? Is
there any wisdom or any profit in staying away from
Christ 2? Do not your reason and conscience tell you
that you ought to seek God?  Why then will you
longer act in opposition to your profoundest convictions?
Why will you destroy others? You cannot go to
hell alone.  Your example is sure to lead some of
your friends and companions along the path you
choose. You have influence over some who are very
dear to your affections. Will you expend it in promoting their misery? Will you lead your companions into hell?  Will you diffuse the malaria of irreligion throughout the social atmosphere in which you
live? O cruel youth, forbear! If you have no pity 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
on yourself, pity your friends and spare them the
misery of being damned through your influence and
example! For the sake of others, if not for your
own, I beseech you give your heart to Christ at once.
Do you wish to break the hearts of your pious
mother and father?  This question is for the child of
pious parents. If, through procrastinating, you are
"suddenly destroyed," or die either in the torpor or
the agonies of despair, your spiritual destruction will
bring the gray hairs of your parents in sorrow to
the grave. Let me sketch a thrilling illustration
for your consideration.
Yonder is an old man, gray-haired and feeble.
His face is pale, big tears are trickling down his
withered cheeks, and he is wringing his hands as if
some sharp agony was wrestling with his spirit.
What ails him?
He has heard that his son is in an adjacent mine in
which a "sand-blast" has just been fired. "Cannot you
leave your son in the hands of God?" inquires a friend.
"0!" said he, " I could if he had religion!"
There is now a stir about the mouth of the mine.
A man is coming up the ladder with tidings of the
old man's son.  "Is he alive?" the people ask.
218 
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S DOOM. 219
"No, his head is all torn to pieces!" is the terrible
reply.
The old man's friend leads him back among the
rocks and says: "My dear friend, you must give up
your boy; he is dead!"
Fearful was the shriek which escaped that old
man's lips, as still wringing his hands, he cried:
"0 his poor soul! what has become of his soul?"
Who could sound the depths of that father's grief
over the lost soul of his son? Who conceive the intensity of his agony? Yet thus will that noble father
and that sweet mother of thine suffer if they should see
you die an impenitent sinner. Do you wish to add
the crime of breaking their hearts to your other sins?
If not, I beseech you, humble yourself under the
mighty hand of God this moment.
You are sure to be pardoned if you seek the Saviour.
Encouraging thought! Having died as your substitute; having made every possible provision for your
salvation; having invited you to his arms; having
offered and promised you pardon; having made it
the grand purpose of his government over you to
bring you into union with himself, there is, there can
be no doubt of your finding his favor if you will seek
4 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
it heartily and at once. Listen! The Saviour speaks.
Hie says: "Come unto me ALL ye that labor and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest."  "The Spirit
and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth
say, Come.  And let him that is athirst come.  And
whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely."
Come then, beloved youth, come to thy longneglected Saviour. Seek him now, just now. Say
to him in all sincerity:
" Here is my heart!  My God, I give it thee:
I heard thee call and say,
' Not to the world, my child, but unto me;'
I heard, and will obey.
Here is love's offering to my King,
Which, a glad sacrifice, I bring          Here is my heart."
220 
VOICES OF DUTY.
CHAPTER XI.
VOICES OF DUTY.
WHEN the illustrious NELSON was leading England's
proud fleet into action with the combined navies of
France anrid Spain, he electrified his followers by
signiializing, as his battle-cry, the following lofty sentiment:  "England  expects every man to  do  his
DUTY!"
When the hero of AUSTERLITZ wished to excite his
victorious troops to fresh deeds of danger and daring,
he thrilled them  with this proclamation:  "When
everything necessary to the prosperity of our country
is obtained, I will lead you back to France. My
people will again behold you with joy. It will be
enough for one of you to say,' I was at the battle of
Austerlitz!' for all your fellow-citizens to exclaim,
'There is a brave man!"'
You can doubtless see a wide difference between
the signal of the admiral and the proclamation of the
221 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
emperor. There is a touch of sublimity in both,
because they both make each person addressed regard
his personal conduct as the object of a nation's obser vation. But how superior is the signal to the procla mation, in the sentiment it addresses and the motive
it evokes? The proclamation appeals to the vanity
of the troops, by promising them the voices of
national applause as the reward of their bravery; the
signal speaks to the patriotism and the moral sense of
the sailors, by suggesting consciousness of duty performed up to the height of the national expectation,
as a motive to that heroic effort which conquers, or
dies in the pursuit of victory.
Which, then, is the nobler appeal? If conscientious
patriotism be a loftier sentiment than love of personal
glory; if exalted motives gild the acts they inspire
with their own peculiar luster, then is the signal
as superior to the proclamation as the heroism of
duty is to the achievments of vanity.
I have used these illustrations for the purpose of
introducing a motive to godliness, which, while it
underlies the preceding chapters, has not been made
prominent in them-the motive of duty?  Thus far I
have chiefly exhibited piety as the only dispenser of
-222 
VOICES OF DUTY.
true happiness. MIy appeal has mainly been to your
self-love-not to your "private self-love," or selfshness, but to that regard for your own well-being which
is natural, and which, if sought in harmony with the
Divine will and the good of others, is right. Hitherto I have taken for granted that you admit a life of
piety to be your duty; but now I wish to make this
motive emphatic-to show you that religion is duty,
that God has rights in you which you are bound to
respect, and that the "LORD hath chosen you to stand
before him, to serve him."
You have probably read an incident in the life of
Prussia's  most  warlike sovereign,  Frederick  the
Great, in which that strange monarch's will was successfully resisted by a sturdy miller. The uncouth
edifice in which the latter ground corn for the
citizens of Potsdam, obstructed the view from the
windows of the royal palace. The king, annoyed by
its presence, sent a messenger to its owner with the
question:
"For what price will you sell your mill?"
"For no price," replied the independent miller,
who, having received the estate from his ancestors
had no wish to part with it.
223 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
The king, angered by this reply to his overture,
said to his officers, "Let the mill be pulled down!"
When the servants of his majesty began the work
of demolition the honest miller quietly folded his
arms and said:
"The king may do this, but there are laws in
Prussia."
This bold man, conscious of his rights, invoked the
law. His cause was heard, and the court decided that
the king should rebuild the mill, and pay the miller a
large sum of money besides, as a compensation for
the injury done to his business by the destruction
of his property. The king's feelings were sorely
wounded by this decision, but his sense of justice prevailed, and he submitted, saying:
"I am glad to find that just laws and upright
judges exist in my kingdom."
In this interesting fact you cannot fail to see that
the miller, being the legal owner of the mill, had the
right to control it as he pleased. He could keep
it, sell it, give it away, alter it, allow it to stand, or
pull it down, and so long as he did not use it to the
injury of his neighbors, no one, not even the king,
had any right to interfere with the disposition he
224 
VOICES OF DUTY.
might choose to make of it. When, therefore, the
king tried to compel him to sell it, and when he
pulled it down, he wronged him, by trampling on his
rights as its legal proprietor. Both as a man and a
king he ought to have respected those rights. It was
his duty to do so.
I have used this historic fact to impress you with
the.great truth that Jehovah, being the owner and
proprietor of your nature, has the right to govern you
in all things, and that you, being his creature-ay,
his property-are bound by the solemn obligations of
duty to dispose of yourself according to his will.
"Behold all souls are mine."  "I am the Lord
thy God." "Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say
well, for so I am."  "God that made the world, and
all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven
and  earth,... commandeth  all  men  everywhere
to repent."   In these  words  of the  Most High
he asserts his proprietorship of your soul. I-T
claims to be your owner in the most absolute sense,
founding his claim on the fact of his creatorship,
which makes his rights of property in you most perfeet and unimpeachable.
Let this thought sink into your mind, young
15
225 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
reader. God is your owner. He made you, and
therefore you belong to him, mind and body, intellect,
affections, will; every faculty, capacity, and power;
everything within you and without you; all you see,
hear, feel; all and everything belong to him in the
most positive and absolute sense. What a perfect
state of dependence is yours!  "You are not your
own," but God's; just as the earth, the sun? the
moon, and the stars are his property, so are you!
If the miller's legal ownership in the mill at Potsdam gave him the right to control it, how much more
does God's absolute ownership of your nature give him
the right to govern you? You cannot deny his right,
since every claim for your obedience which he sets
up finds its justification in your reason, every command he utters from Sinai or Calvary has its echo
in your own conscience.
If the miller's rights in his ancestral estate made it
the duty of the Prussian king to leave him unmolested in disposing of it, how much more do God's rights
of property in you make it your duty to use yourself
according to his wishes? Rights and duties are reciprocal, you know. If it be God's right to control your
person and direct your conduct, is it not also your
226 
VOICES OF DUTY.
duty to submit to his government? Appeal to your
conscience! Bring the law of Horeb and the teachings
of Calvary, in all the completeness and spirituality of
their precepts, before it. Let them instruct you, undisturbed by the voices of passion, unblinded by the
mists and vapors of carnal desires. Do they not compel you to say, in the most sacred sanctuary of your
spirit: "I OUGHT to submit in all things and at all
times to the commands of God?"
I know it is even so. Your reason and your conscience acknowledge both God's rights and your duty.
While, therefore, you are moved to a life of piety by
considerations of your personal well-being, let this be
a corner-stone of your religious character-IT IS MY
DUTY TO SERVE GOD! I WILL OBEY HIM BECAUSE I AM
(IIS CREATURE, AND HE IS MY GOD!
When King Frederick tore down the mill, did he
not trample on the legal rights of the miller? When
ie took away its materials, was he not guilty of robbery? By disregarding the law did he not set an
example which, if generally imitated, would have
filled his kingdom with riot and anarchy? By what
names, then, shall I designate your acts of disobedience to God? Does not every refusal of yours to
227 
PLEASANT PATlWAYS.
obey him, trample upon his rights, rob him of that
service from your powers which is his just due, and
set an example of rebellion which, if universally followed by the sentient creation, would leave him with.
out a rational worshiper in the universe? Yes, sin
is rebellion, treason, robbery, injustice, wrong. It is
the greatest injury you can do to yourself. It is
base insult to the King of kings. It is an act of daring, as if a naked homeless pauper should spit in the
face of his lawful king.  O my reader, repeat not the
terrible offense! Recognize the rights of your Creator,
and crawl humbly to his feet, with tearful eyes, and
with solemn resolutions of loyalty in time to come.
You are doubtless familiar with the story of the
Macedonian soldier, who was shipwrecked and cast
ashore by the waves, helpless, nude, and nearly dead.
A farmer found him in this sad condition, and bore
him from the beach to his home. There he laid him
on his own bed, restored him to consciousness, nourished him, and for six weeks supplied all his wants
with more than a brother's tenderness and liberality.
The soldier, restored to health and vigor by this
affectionate care, and furnished with money for his
journey by  his liberal  host, left the house of his
228 
VOICES OF DUTY.
benefactor, and went to the court of King Philip,
That monarch, who knew the soldier to be a man of
uncommon valor, received himn with favor, listened
with interest to the story of his misfortunes, and asked
him what reward he craved for his services.
"Give me," said the unworthy warrior, "the lands
which lie along the shore where I was wrecked!"
"They are yours," replied the prince; and thus
the soldier became the owner of the estate of his benefactor. Armed with authority from the king, he
returned to the house of his hospitable host, drove
him from his home, and took possession of all his
property.
The injured farmer took measures to inform King
Philip of the services he had rendered his unprincipled guest, and of this most ungracious treatment.
Fired with indignation at the unexampled ingratitude
of the soldier, the monarch revoked his gift, restored
the property to its true owner, seized the soldier, and
caused the words " Ungrateful Gquest" to be branded
on his forehead.
Here is a fact of an opposite character. An aged
gentleman, who had spent his life in the enjoyment of
all the comforts and elegancies which abundant wealth
229 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
can procure, met with an overwhelming misfortune,
which, like a mighty flood, suddenly swept his property away. Reduced to poverty, he broke up his
establishment and dismissed his domestics. Among
his servants there was one who refused to quit him.
She said:
"I  have  served  you  twenty-five  years.   You
have treated me with the kindness of a master, a
father, and a friend. To you, under God, I owe my
life, my education, and the salvation of my soul. I
cannot leave you. I have saved considerable money
in your service. Accept it, and let me still serve
you, trusting in Him who feedeth the ravens to provide for me should I ever become old and helpless."
The unfortunate old man wept, as well he might, on
hearing these noble words. He took his servant's
money and lived on it until the death of a relative
restored him to competence. Then he returned the
servant's gift with interest, and when he died further
requited her gratitude by bequeathing her an ample
maintenance.
Now review these facts and tell me what your
feelings are toward the several parties? Does not
your soul recoil with emotions of dislike, contempt,
230 
VOICES OF DUTY.
and horror from the conduct of the soldier toward
his benefactor?  On  the contrary, does not your
heart warm with strong approval of the grateful servant? But why do these opposite emotions swell
your breast? Is it not because you are so constituted
as to perceive, by simple intuition, that he who, being
needy, is benefited by another, is under obligations to
be grateful in heart and act to the benefactor who
ministers to his necessities. The soldier violated this
obligation, and therefore you instinctively abhor him;
the servant respected it, and you as instinctively
approve and admire her conduct.
Will you now apply this principle to yourself and
the Creator?  Is he not your benefactor?  What but
his goochdless led him to give you being? He would
be infinitely happy if his dominion was one vast,
illimitable solitude, without a created voice to break
its mysterious silence. Not for the increase of his
own bliss, therefore, did he bring you into life; but
he did it that you might taste the luxury of existence, and enijoy the happiness of knowing and loving
lim. Then, with what wonderful skill and beneficence he molded your form into beauty, and framed
it so that the proper exercise of its functions is a con
231
4. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
stant source of pleasure! With what munificence he
has provided objects of utility, beauty, and sublimity
in the world for the supply of your wants, the gratification of your tastes, and the instruction of your
understanding!  With what fatherly love has his eye
watched and his arm protected your life from the first
moment of your existence until now! What unnumbered dangers he has averted from you! From what
innumerable causes of death he has shielded you!
How often has his invisible arm dragged you from
the open jaws of ruin! How profusely has he  poured  earthly blessings and comforts into your lap!
With what unspeakable condescension has he stooped
to care for you, to sympathize with you, to make you
an object of especial concern, though you are but as
the "drop of a bucket" amid the amplitude and
grandeur of his infinite dominion f Surely he is your
benefactor, and you may very fitly lift your adoring
eyes to his throne and say:
"Thou shin'st with everlasting rays;
Before the insufferable blaze
Angels with both wings vail their eyes;.
Yet free as air thy bounty streams;
On all thy works thy mercy's beams,
Diffusive as thy sun's, arise.
232 
VOICES OF DUTY.
"Astonishl'd at thy frowning brow,
Earth, hell, and heaven's strong pillars bow;
Te'rrible majesty is thine!
Who then can that vast love express
Wkick bows thee down to me-who less
Than nothing am, till thou art mine!"
Yes, God is your benefactor indeed. The favors
of all your human friends compared with his are but
as the tiniest streams that trickle from mountainsides to the oceans which girdle the globe. Standing
thus related to him as a helpless dependant on an
almighty benefactor, what is your duty? Say, poor
worm, whose power to crawl in the light of the
majestic sweetness which crowns his regal brow is
derived from him-say, what OUGHT you do? OUGHT
you not to return his benefactions by rendering him
the ceaseless homage of a grateful heart, and the obedience which he has condescended to command in his
holy word'? Apart from all other considerations, is
it not God's right, as your owner and benefactor, to
require your service, and your duty, as his creature
whom he has loaded with benefits, to declare with the
Psalmist, "0  Lord, truly I am  thy servant?'?  I
know that your conscience dictates an affirmative
reply, and you cannmlot withhold your approval of the
233 
234    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
sentiment of the great CHALMERS, who says: "Only
grant God to be our benefactor and olur owner, and
on this relation alone do we confidently found our
obligations, both of love and gratitude."
During a heavy and long-continued gale of wind,
accompanied with dense fog, the look-out at the bows
of a ship shouted, "Breakers ahead!"
"Port your helm!" cried the captain to the steers
man.
It was too late. Before the order could be obeyed
the ship dashed upon a rock and became a helpless
wreck. The boats were got out; most of the seamen
and passengers crowded into them, while some leaped
into the sea and swam for the shore, which was nigh.
Among the passengers were a lady and her son, who
were left uncared for until the last seaman was leaving the ship. Grasping the boy, he said: "There is
room for you in the boat," and was about to lower
him over the bulwarks.
But the boy tore himself from the sailor's grasp,
and said: "Save my mother, if you have to let me
drown!"
There was no time for hesitation or reflection. The
mother was hurried into the boat. The boy leaped 
VOICES OF DUTY.
overboard and was happily picked up by the other
boat and saved with the mother, who, but for his
noble spirit of self-sacrifice, would have been left to
perish on the wreck.
This fact may illustrate a great truth. Let it teach
you that unusual benefits impose new and special obligations to gratitude and service on their recipients.
It had always been that mother's duty to love and
serve her son, because she was his mother; but after
he, by his selfdevotion, had saved her life, were not
new obligations of gratitude and love imposed upon
her 2 He was only her son before; afterward he
was also her heroic deliverer- the saviour of her
life, and she was therefore bound to him by a
new tie.
And is not your Creator, owner, and benefactor,
also your REDEEMER and SAVIOUR? Hear what Holy
Scripture saith of him in this relation: He "bought"
you "with a price." "He redeemed you-not with
corruptible things, as silver and gold.... but with
the precious blood of Christ."  He " so loved" you
that "he gave his only-begotten Son" to be "wounded
for your transgressions," " bruised" for your "iniquities."  "He laid on him" your iniquity; the " chas
235 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
tisement" of your peace was upon him, and by "his
stripes" you may be healed.
This redeeming act was God's most wonderful and
infinite benefaction. Christ crucified was the richest
gift in your Creator's possession; the highest possible demonstration of his exhaustless love! What
greater thing can mind imagine than an Almighty
Being giving his coequal Son to be incarnated and
made to suffer as the substitute of a race of guilty
creatures 2 What higher good could Deity offer to
intelligent though sinful beings, than pardon, adoption, participation in his own moral beauty, and intimate fellowship with himself around the throne on
which he chiefly manifests his person and glory?
What more perfect demonstration of sincere solicitude for human happiness can be imagined than is
found in the provisions of the Gospel?  Look at them'
a moment.
As the basis of the system you have a Redeemer,
whose sufferings stand accepted as the substitute foi
the eternal damnation of as many as may choose to
make him their hiding-place. Then, as the first-fruits
of those sufferings, every child of Adam is held to be
as guiltless at birth as though- it had descended from
236 
VOICES OF DUTY.
sinless ancestors: to counteract that tendency to sinful self-indulgence which every child inherits, there is
given to it, not an actually regenerated nature, but
the presence of the Holy Spirit, seeking, in conjunc
tion with its spiritual educators, to beget in it that
affection for God which is the essence and principle of
the regenerated life; to give long opportunity of being
saved to those who waywardly resist "the grace of
God which bringeth salvation," and contract the guilt
of manifold sins, provision is made in Christ for the
pardon of "many offenses;" to render this provision
operative, there is a Divine revelation to instruct; a
living ministry and a visible Church to proclaim the
truth; a gracious influence from the Holy Spirit directly exercised upon the soul of the sinner, opening
the eyes of his understanding, quickening his conscience, appealing to his affections, pressing, without
forcing, his will, and infusing moral strength in every
moment of awakened spiritual desire. Moreover, the
conditions on which the great salvation is suspended
are of the simplest character, and, with the spiritual
help offered, the easiest of which the mind can conceive.  They are not arbitrary, but necessary in themselves.  How  could guilt be pardoned without peni
237 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
tence?  How  could love be born and communion
enjoyed without faith? Indeed it is difficult to conceive
how God could have done more or required less for
human salvation than he has in the Gospel of his
Son. Well might the apostle exclaim: "Behold
what manner of love the Father hath bestowed
upon us!"
Say, therefore, thoughtful-youth, does not this revelation of your Divine Benefactor, in the relation of
Saviour and Redeemer, impose new obligations on
you to love and serve him? If, as your owner and
benefactor, his claims to your grateful service were
indisputable and inextinguishable, what can you say
to his right in you as your Redeemer? If ingratitude
to a benefactor be infamous; if to deprive an owner
of his right to control his property be robbery, by
what epithet shall I designate the rejection of a Saviour's claims, the trampling under foot of a Redeemer's rights? It is a sin for which human language
refuises to furnish a name; it is a monstrous combination of all that is vile in every other form of sin; it
is the only sin for which souls are damned. " He
that believeth not the Son shall not see life, but the
wrath of God abideth upon him."
238 
VOICES OF DUTY.
Come, then, thou creature of the Most High, thou
helpless dependant upon thy Divine Benefactor, thou
redeemed one, cast thyself at the feet of thy Lord,
because he is thy Lord, thy Benefactor, and thy
Redeemer! Because it is your DUTY, and not merely
because your happiness requires it, give God your
heart! You owe him service; render it because you
owe it. You owe him gratitude; let your heart yield
it because it is his right to claim it. You owe him
your highest love, therefore place your heart in his
willing hands, and "love him, because he has loved
you." Bind yourself to him with chains of penitence,
faith, and love, for the sake of what he is in himself,
and not merely because his service will produce your
highest happiness.
It is related of a certain monk that he once lighted
upon an ancient chapel in a lonely forest. He entered
it, and found its walls bare; and its stone altar crumbling with age and covered with mold. As his curious eyes scanned the pointed arches, they were
arrested by a quaint-looking window above the altar,
which, in the gloom, looked as if some unpracticed
hand bad smeared it with red paint.   After gazing
upon it a few moments the old man spoke and said:
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* 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"  y! a blind man could paint as well with soot
and blood. That daub is as meaningless as chaos."
The words had scarcely left his lips before the descending sun, bursting from an envious cloud, poured
a flood of radiance upon the window. Thus lighted,
what had seemed a daub in the previous gloom, resolved itself into a splendid painting. There, in lifelike form, was Moses and the burning bush, with the
stern rocks of Sinai and the snowy flocks of the noble
shepherd quietly grazing on its rugged sides. The
monk looked on the painted glass with wonder, and
exclaimed:
"Ha! what a light! It has changed that motley
stain to the product of a master artist's hand."
Now it may be, my reader, that my feeble attempts
to portray the beauty of the Divine character have
been to you as that painting was to the dim-eyed
monk, while as yet the sun was clouded.  Possibly
you have never yet been impressed and thrilled by
clear perceptions of the moral beauty, the peerless
loveliness, of the moral nature of God. Like the
wicked Jews, you see neither form nor comeliness in
the manifestations which your Benefactor has made of
himself.  If this be so, let my illustration teach you that
240 
VOICES OF DUTY.
the fault is all in yourself. God is the perfection of
beauty, the concentration of all moral loveliness. To
see him thus you must study him as he is portrayed
in his word. Let that book be to you what the
church window was to the monk. Look into it with
the teachable spirit of a little child, with unquestioning
belief of its statements, with desire to discover the
glory and excellency of its Author. Look thus constantly, patiently, earnestly, and it will not be long
before the Sun of Righteousness will shed a flood of
glorious light upon it. Then you will see the Divine
character in such lovely aspects as will Il  you with
rapturous desire, and enable you to say with the
Psalmist, "My heart and my flesh crieth out for the
living God;" and with the poet:
"Ever fainting with desire,
For thee, 0 Christ, I call;
Thee I restlessly require;
I want my God, my all."
With such views and such desires you will be prepared to love and serve God for the sake of what he
is in himself, and because he is Creator, Owner, Benefactor, and Redeemer to you, his dependent, helpless, sinful creature. I do not say you will cease
16
241 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
to be influenced by the fact that godliness is, as I have
shown, productive of your personal happiness; for it
is only through  his beneficent provisions for your
happiness that you can attain to those perceptions of
the loveliness of his character which can enrapture
and captivate your affections. But I do affirm that
the nearer you get to God the clearer and more farseeing your visions of his moral perfections become,
the less you will think of yourself, and the more
powerfully you will be attracted by his beauty.
What more need be said? If piety be a river of
perpetual happiness, invigorating the soul in its moral
conflicts, refreshing it in its hours of weariness, solacing it in its days of gloom, satisfying its immortal
thirstings, and fitting it for heavenly felicity; if its
demands are the rights of God and your duties; if
without it you must be eternally separated from God,
and from all enjoyment, and doomed to suffer unspeakable woe, then, surely, the array of motives is
perfect. Self-love and duty speak one language, and
urge you to say to God, "My Father, from this time
thou shalt be the guide of my youth."
Listen, then, I beseech you, to the voices of gratitude, love, and duty. By all that is sacred in your
242 
VOICES OF DUTY.
obligations to God; by all that is lovely in the Divine
character; by all that is commanding in the authority
and terrible in the justice of the Almighty; by all
that is desirable in heaven and dreadful in hell; by
the curses of the law; by the love, the sufferings, the
tears, the blood of your long-neglected, despised, but
faithful and patient Redeemer, I entreat you, beloved
youth, to begin a life of piety this moment. Now inquire, with all the earnestness of which you are capable,
"What shall I do to be saved?" Now pray with
good old FRANCIS QUARLES, and say:
"Eternal God! 0 thou that only art
The sacred fountain of eternal light,
And blessed loadstone of my better part;
O thou, my heart's desire, my soul's delight!
Reflect upon my soul, and touch my heart,
And then my heart shall prize no good above thee;
Aud then my soul shall know thee; knowing, love thee;
And then my trembling thoughts shall never start
From thy commands, or swerve the least degree,
Or once presume to move, but as they move in thee."
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PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED?
MORE than a century ago a little orphan boy,
scarcely seven years old, stood on a slight eminence,
from which a lovely landscape met his eye. Broad
fields of waving grain, extensive pastures stocked
with fine breeds of cattle, a magnificent park with its
herds of antlered deer quietly feeding in the shade of
venerable oaks and elms which have withstood the
storms of centuries, a cosy old manor-house, and a
picturesque village with its thatched cottages and old
stone church draped in ivy, were all included in the
scene before him. Long and pensively did that boy
gaze on this delightful spot of rural beauty, for he
had heard his grandfather say that all those broad
lands once belonged to his ancestors. But they had
passed into the hands of strangers.   His parents
were dead. His grandfather was old and poor, and
there was little in his life-prospects to awaken the
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WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 245
voices of hope within his childish bosom. No wonder
the thoughtful boy felt sad.
Presently, however, his tearful eye grew bright.
His graceful little form stood erect and dignified.
He trod the soil proudly and firmly. His whole
person and manner showed that a great purpose was
being born within him. He was resolving to become
the master of that great estate!
From that moment the boy's character acquired
fresh strength. That resolution beamed like a star
upon his path and cheered him in every struggle. On
he pressed through poverty, toil, discouragement, and
trial. In every moment of despondency his resolution spurred him to renewed effort. Gradually at
first, and rapidly at length, he acquired wealth and
power, until he, the noted WARREN HASTINGS, be camne governor-general of India, and owner of Dayles ford manor, his ancestral seat. He achieved his
purpose.
Resolution is the parent of action. Hence, as
young Warren Hastings resolved to recover the
estate of his ancestors, so must you, my reader,
firmly resolve to seek your soul's conversion before
you can be saved. To this resolution I entreat you 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
to come at once. Having in the previous chapters
spread the facts and motives before you on which
such a resolution must be based, I beg you to reduce
the impressions you have received to a definite and
operative purpose. Let me give you an example.
A gentleman, who was a magistrate and possessed
great personal influence, was strongly urged, one
evening, by his pious wife, to seek his soul's conversion at once. He listened long, without making a remark. At length he calmly replied, "I WILL!"
He spent much of that night in sober meditation.
The next morning he was bowed down under a profound sense of guilt. Reflection on the past, aided by
the Holy Spirit, had brought his conscience into a
state of activity, and the depths of his nature were
stirred with sorrow for sin.
At nine o'clock he started for a protracted meeting
then being held a mile or two from his abode. On
the way he prevailed on four of his friends- two
lawyers, a brother magistrate, and a physician-to
accompany him. Before reaching the church they
paused at the residence of a judge, who was busy on
his farm.  "Judge," said the awakened man, "I am
determined to seek the salvation of my soul. I have
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WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 247
persuaded these, my neighbors, to accompany me.
Come, lay aside your plow, and go along to meeting."
The judge remained silent awhile, then, looking at
his friend, he said, "I will!"
The whole party proceeded to church. After the
sermon they attended the inquiry meeting. The result was, that all but one of that party, in a short
time' received the forgiveness of sins. The gentleman himself had a longer struggle before finding
peace than either of his friends; but he persevered,
and after a whole night spent in prayer, the grace of
God burst like sunshine upon his heart, and he went
on his way rejoicing.
I conmmend this resolute man's example to you, immortal youth. He started without much feeling. A
clear intellectual perception of duty, such as you possess, led him to say irrevocably, "I will seek God
sow!" Acting under the guidance of that stern volition, he began at once to turn his thoughts to the consideration of his past life, of his relations to God, of
his duty and destiny.  That consideration gave birth
to penitential emotion, for by it he turned his face
toward God, whose Spirit at once shone up(on his
inmost nature and melted all its hardness into sorrow, 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
as the sun melts the ice and snow of winter into
streams of running water.
Now all this is possible with you. Your heart
may be as cold and hard as a polar iceberg. It may
be as barren of good desires as a desert is of fruit or
flower.  All its feelings may be concentrated in one
absorbing consciousness of aversion against a religious
life, nevertheless you can-such is the liberty of your
will, aided as it is by the grace which bringeth salva tion-you can now resolve, as that magistrate did,
from a simple sense of duty, that you will seek to
become a Christian. I appeal to your consciousness
of power. Do you or do you not feel able to make
that resolve? "I DO," is the instinctive response of
your nature.
Yes, I know you do. And I also know that in this
critical moment of your life, while all that is carnal
within you shrinks with aversion from the decisive
act, there is also a secret monitor whispering in the
ear of your immortal spirit, and gently stimulating
you to do it. That whisper is divine. It is the voice
of the Eternal Spirit. It is Christ's latest voice of
love. It is heaven's pledge to you, that if you will
do violence to the aversion of your carnal mind by
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WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 249
resolving to repent, you shall not be left to wage the
mighty warfare alone. It is God, the ever faithful
and true, saying, "Let the wicked forsake his way,
and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him
return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon
him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon."
Heed it, 0 precious youth! Heed that voice of
power. Make the decisive resolution now. Here it
is. Read it:
BY THE GRACE OF GOD I WILL THIS INSTANT SEEK
THE SALVATION OF MY SOUL.
Signed,
Concentrate all the energy of your will into this
great purpose.  Let it befinal, irreversible.  Having
formed it, set your name to it, and consider the question settled. Your back is upon the world, your face
is heavenward. Henceforth you are to be a pilgrim
to the city of Jesus.
Thank  God!  thank  God!  Let there be joy in
the presence of the angels. Another soul has taken
its first step in the pleasant pathway-another soul
has turned its imploring glance toward the mercy-seat
of God. For this let there be joy in heaven. It will 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
not be long before there will be peace in the troubled
breast of the seeker.
Now, my fellow-sinner, having made this solemn
purpose, you must study yourself with introspective
eye. But let me lead you to the only spot on earth
where such a study can result in softening your heart.
I mean to Calvary.  Talk your meditations in whis pered words addressed to the dying lover of souls.
Look up! See that pale, blood-stained face!  Majestic
sweetness, amid all its traceries of woe, is written
upon it. Behold it! That sufferer is making atone ment for your sins. The pains which rend him, and
the death he is dying, are the substitutes which your
offended Creator has covenanted to accept, whenever
you become a believer, instead of that eternal anguish
which is the proper punishment of the sins you have
committed. Love for you, therefore, sent him on
his mission of suffering. Love for you sustains him
in its endurance.  "Behold the Lamb of God!" the
"propitiation" for your  sins, and while beholding
meditate.
Your past life, what has it been?  Rays of softest
light beamed from that cross on your infant footsteps. Streams of richest benefactions have ever
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WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 251
flowed from that opened side along the paths of your
childhood and youth. Christian parents, pious teachers, an open Bible, freedom to worship God, a faithfully preached Gospel, voices. of admonition from
human lips and from the Divine Spirit, restraining
grace, protective providences, blessings of the earth
beneath and blessings of the heavens above, divine
forbearance, patient long-suffering, with innumerable
other mercies, have been freely lavished upon you
in answer to his pleadings.
What returns have you made?  Have you consulted your Divine benefactor respecting the use of his
gifts 2 Rather, have you not received and expended
his benefactions without the least regard to his will?
Though an absolute pauper in your Creator's household, have you not used his favors with the independence of a sovereign? Has one grateful acknowledgment, one truly loving aspiration for his approval,
ever burned on your selfish heart? Living in yourself and for yourself, have you not despised his
authority and been a rebellious child? Besides leaving undone the duties he commanded, have you not
done daily, hourly, in unnumbered instances, the
things he has forbidden   Take his holy commadthings he has forbidden? Take his holy command 
PLEASANT PATHIWAYS.
ments and see if you have not, either in spirit or
letter, broken them all? Instead of taking him for
your one God, and loving him with all your heart,
have you not had gods many and lords many? Have
you not often spoken his name vainly, if not, indeed,
profanely? Have you not broken his Sabbaths, disobeyed your parents, and, by cherishing hatred, been
guilty of murder in your heart? By indulging lustful desires- and it may be by actual personal pollution-have you not trampled on the law which forbids adultery? Has no act of fraud, such as dishonest
bankruptcy, fraudulent dealing, or downright theft,
arrayed the eighth commandment against you? Has
not a lie often defiled your lips, and covetousness
your mind? To which then of the ten commandments
can you plead, "I am not guilty?"  Alas for you!
your past life is covered with transgression. It is
written all over with rebellion, self-indulgence, pride,
ingratitude, and sins of every hue. "Is not thy wicked
ness great?" and are not "thine iniquities infinite?"
Drag this black past into the light. View it on
every side. Count, if you can, the number of your
transgressions. Ascertain their turpitude. Relember that they have been committed against Him
252 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED?  253
whom you saw bleeding on the cross for you and
such as you. See how sadly he gazes at you while
all his bleeding wounds are saying, "Soul! soul!
why sinnest thou against thy Redeemer and friend?"
Consider, also, that your long resistance to the
pleadings of Christ's precious love affords conclusive
proof of the exceeding wickedness of your heart.
You strongly resemble a youth who fell into the
snares of dissipation, and fled to a distant city that he
might indulge in folly without rebuke. Anxious for
his welfare, his father sent an only brother to woo
him back to home and virtue. The brother was
repelled with rudeness. His sister was next sent.
but he turned away unmoved from her pure words of
love. His patriarchal father then tried the power of
paternal persuasion, but even his gray hairs and
breaking heart failed to melt the stubborn youth.
Last of all, his venerable mother, trembling with age
and infirmities, traveled to his haunts, and besought
him, with all the touching pathos of maternal love, to
forsake his vices and return to the happy home he
had abandoned. Vainly she pleaded, for even his
mother's tears had no power to charm him from his
darling vices. 
254    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
Now tell me frankly, my dear reader, which part
of this youth's conduct most clearly proves his
depravity, his first dissipations or his persistent re sistance to the wooings of his family?
His persistent resistance? You answer truly, and
by so doing convict yourself of wickedness as deeply
rooted as your inmost nature, and as vile as ever
stained a human soul; for as that youth resisted
every effort of parental and fraternal love, so have
you, through all the years of your life, resisted all
the efforts of Divine love to win your heart to righteousness. In vain have voices of parental love, of
teachers and pastors, of the inspired book, of your
own consciences, of the Holy Spirit, and of the
interceding Saviour entreated you. In vain have the
love of God and the tears of Jesus, the terrors of
justice and the gifts of mercy, made their appeals to
your wicked heart. You have steadfastly resisted
them all. If, therefore, unconquerable resistance to
redeeming efforts is the strongest proof of inveterate
wickedness, you must be wicked indeed. You may
not have the blot of open immorality staining your
life, but you have shown an aversion to God as
strong as that which rules the heart of the vilest 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 255
wretch who walks the earth! Indeed, I know not
but that your aversion is stronger than his, for he has
rioted in'sin away from Gospel influences, while you
have sinned in sight of Calvary! Had he enjoyed
one half the sweet influences which have crowned
your life, possibly he would have repented long ago.
But you!  You have lived an irreligious life in the
very ante-chamber of the Divine presence; you have
resisted the uttermost efforts of Divine compassion.
"Is not your wickedness great?"
Shrink not from these painful views of yourself,
precious soul, but drag all your sinfulness to the
light.  Confess it all to Him who was "bruised" for
your'" iniquities." Acknowledge all you transgressions. Make no excuses. Palliate no act of your
life; but, gazing at the cross, abase yourself, crying with the publican, "God  be merciful to me a
sinner," and  with the prodigal, "Father,  I have
sinned."
These meditations and confessions will bring the
Holy Spirit nearer to you, who will make your
understanding light, your heart soft, unsealing all
the springs of penitence within you, and enabling
you to say with the poet: 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"Awaked from sin's delusive sleep,
My heavy guilt I feel, and weep;
Beneath a weight of woes oppress'd,
I come to thee, my Lord, for rest."
It may be, however, that these purposes, meditations, and confessions will fail to melt your heart.
Burdened, tempest-tossed, dark, without tender feeling,
and full of unbelief, you may make no seeming progress. If this be so, despair not. The cloud lowers
around the cross only because you are clinging to some
sin which you are not willing to give up at the command of Christ. You may be but dimly conscious of
this unwillingness. To test yourself put up this prayer:
"What is it keeps me back,
From which i cannot partWhich will not let the Saviour take
Possession of my heart?
Searcher of hearts, in mine
Thy trying power display;
Into its darkest corners shine,
And take the vail away."
That you may know the mind of God respecting
your favorite sins, consider these words:  "If  the
wicked restore the pledge, give again that he had
robbed, walk in the statutes of life without committing
iniquity, he shall surely live, he shall not die."
256 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 257
This passage is a torch lighted at the altar of
God's purity. Hold it up in your heart, and learn
that if you would approach God acceptably, you
must make  no  secret  mental  compromise  with
sin. IF YOU HAVE EVER WRONGED ANY MAN BY
CHEATING, BY THEFT, OR BY BANKRUPTCY, YOU MUST
MAKE RESTITUTION-" give again that he had robbed;"
if you are in a sinful business, such as rum-selling,
trading or working on the Sabbath, slaveholding,
slave-trading, grinding the poor by oppressive wages,
or any other practice which violates the laws of God
or man, you must unconditionally, and at once,
abandon it, or you cannot find that Divine favor
which is conditioned on your consent "to walk in the
statutes of life WITHOUT COMMITTING INIQUITY." You
may mentally spare some profitable sin, and may so
persuade your conscience into a compromise with it,
as to patch up a spurious peace with God and become
a member of the Church; but such repentance, and
such peace will not stand when God maketh inquisition for sin.   His righteous arm  will  tear
away your mask in that terrible day, and after
revealing your hideous deformities, he will say: "I
never knew you; depart from me, YE THAT  WORK
17 
258    PLEASANT PATHWAY S.
INIQUITY." Remember that all repentance is spu.
rious which does not lead you to give up every
known sin.
That you may see how the Spirit of God teaches
truly awakened souls, I will submit three pertinent
facts. The first relates to the duty of restitution.
A gentleman once saw a captain, with whom he
was about to sail as a passenger, carelessly throw a
bag of dollars on a locker. By way of alarming the
captain, the gentleman hid the money. It happened
that in the hurry of leaving port the reception of the
bag of dollars entirely faded from the captain's
recollection, and the gentleman carried it ashore,
intending to return it when it should be missed.
But months passed before inquiry was made, and
then the gentleman, fearing lest his honesty should
be questioned, purposely secreted the money. Meanwhile the captain was sued for the amount, and imprisoned. Confinement and vexation killed him, and
his wife and children were left penniless.
The hand of God now touched the gentleman and
he became fatally sick. The voice of God alarmed his
conscience. Hell gat hold upon his spirit. He sent
for Dr. Adam Clarke, and guided by his spiritual 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 259
counsels, earnestly sought pardon and peace.  But he
sought in vain. Prayers, tears, and sorrow brought
no comfort to his tormented soul. At length, being
closely questioned by Dr. Clarke, he confessed his
theft of the bag of dollars.
"You must make restitution!" said that holy man.
"You can restore the money, and redeem the dead
man's memory from infamy!"
The dying man consented, and restored the money
with compound interest. Then his prayers were
heard, and his long agonized spirit soon found rest
in Jesus.
Penitent reader, have you ever wronged any man
of his property? Have the wages of unrighteousness
ever defiled your conscience?  If so, you must "give
again what you have robbed," or make up your
mind to be shut out of that heaven into which
"there shall in no wise enter anything that defileth."
Be not deceived.  "God is not mocked."  He who is
not willing to make restitution to the utmost of his
ability, is not truly sorry for having perpetrated
the injustice which he is required, as far as possible,
to undo.
My second fact relates to the sin of slaveholding, 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
and is taken from the life of that spiritual hero,
FREEBORN GARRETTSON. A few hours after his conversion a strange and terrible darkness overspread
his spirit.   He was in agony, though he knew not
why. At length, while conducting family prayer,
God showed him his reason for hiding his face. As
he was reading a hymn this thought powerfully struck
his mind:
"It is not right for you to keep your fellowcreatures in bondage; you must let the oppressed
go free!"
Mr. Garrettson had never heard slaveholding condemned until that moment. He had never read a
book on the subject, but his conscience at once recognized the Divine authority of that powerful thought.
He paused a moment.   Being thoroughly in earnest,
he only wished to know what God willed. Satisfied
on this point, he exclaimed:
"Lord, the oppressed shall go free!"
Having formed this hallowed purpose, he at once
said to his slaves: "You do not belong to me. I do
not desire your services without making you a compensation." Speaking of the effect of this act of justice on his own heart, he says:
260 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 261
"All my dejection, and that melancholy gloom
which preyed upon me, vanished in a moment, and a
divine sweetness ran through my whole frame!"
Penitent reader, are you a slaveholder? Protected
by impious laws, are you holding immortal, responsible, and naturally free-born men, women, and children in the condition of personal chattels? Are you
rearing the purchase of the Redeemer's blood as you
rear cattle, for your own personal comfort and profit?
If so, " I have a message from God unto thee." Here
it is. Speaking to those who affect to repent without
giving up their sins, God says: "Is not this the fast
that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness,
to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed
go free, and that ye break every yoke?"   "Then
shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine
health shall spring forth speedily."
My third fact relates to a distiller, who was powerfully awakened while at a religious assembly away
from home. Like a flash of lightning a conviction
of the sinfulness of his business, gleamed upon his
heart. Speaking to himself, he said:
"If I seek religion I must give up my distillery.
If I give that up I shall beggar my family. If I do 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
not seek religion I can make a good living, but my
soul must go to hell!"
After weighing the momentous question in his
heart, and carefully counting the cost of the act, he
went to the altar and put up this simple prayer:
"Lord, I will trust my family to thy care and seek
the salvation of my soul. O Lord, I have built a
still-house which I know I must give up before thou
wilt pardon my sins, but I want the pardon of my
sins to-night, for before to-morrow I may be dead.
Lord, if thou wilt trust me, and for the sake of thy
Son's death forgive my sins to-night, I will go home
to-morrow morning, if spared, and knock every tub
to staves, throw out the still, and never make another drop of liquor!"
That prayer was answered, and the peace which is
more precious than money came into his soul. As
he afterward remarked, "God saw my sincerity and
converted my soul on credit." The still was destroyed. The man found ample compensation for his
pecuniary sacrifices in the consciousness of duty performed and in the smile of his Creator. And so do all
who, like him, follow the teachings of Christ and enter
the gate of regeneration, casting away their former sins.
262 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 263
What say you to this, penitent souls If engaged
in any sinful business will you obey God, or, consulting your present gains only, will you follow corrupt popular example and your own selfish impulses?
If the latter is your deliberate purpose, I have only
to say that "whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he
also reap." If you will sow to the flesh you must be
content to "reap corruption."  But, believe me, corruption is a shocking crop to harvest.  But if your
purpose is to keep the "statutes of life," then shall
"thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as
the noonday."
Do you still hesitate to decide between the profits
of sin and the favor of God? Like a bird hopping
between two twigs, are you yet in doubt as to which
you will choose? 0 shameful indecision! Are vir tue, happiness, heaven, and God so light in your
esteem that they cannot weigh down the profits of
sin? Let the conduct of a noble heathen bring a
blush to your cheeks and put an end to such un worthy indecision.
When the Macedonian PYRRHUS was negotiating a
treaty with FABRICIUS the Roman general, he offered
to make that heroic man richer than the richest man 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
in Rome, provided he would promise to influence the
Roman senate in favor of his plans. Fabricius, who
was as poor as he was brave, instantly replied:
"My little field, poor and unfertile as it is, supplies
me with all that nature requires. If riches had been
my ambition, I could have amassed great sums from
the spoils of those enemies of Rome whom I have
conquered. After this, would it now become me to
accept the gold and silver you offer me? What
example should I set the citizens of Rome? How
could I bear even their looks at my return? You
shall then, if you please, keep your riches to your self, and I will keep my poverty and my reputation!"
Incorruptible Fabricius!  He  counted his honor
worth more than much gold. The treasures of a
king could not kindle in his noble nature even a desire to swerve from his duty to his country. Beside
his nobility of soul, how mean your hesitation to
choose between the profits of a sinful business and
your duty to God appears! Cursed be that lust of
gold which keeps you from the cross of Christ!
What will those sin-stained profits avail when your
soul is lost? Will they not follow you, woven into
a poisoned garment, and like the shirt of Nessus on
264 
WHAT SHALL I DO TO BE SAVED? 265
the back of Hercules, torment you with unspeakable
pain forever?  Be resolute, therefore, and in the spirit
of the distiller and of Freeborn Garrettson, for your
soul's sake, yield every sinful pursuit with all its
accursed profits, and God will give you a " hundredfold" in this world, and you "shall inherit everlasting life."
Assuming that you are purposed to give up all
participation in sinful practices or in sinful business,
however profitable, I advise you to believe in the
Lord Jesus Christ. Being sorry for sin, and willing to forsake it, there is nothing more required of
you but to believe. You may not be able to shed
many tears; that depends very much on the peculiar ity of your mental constitution; yet I say unto you,
"Behold the Lamb of God." God sets more value
on a single sincere,purpose to forsake sin, or one
hour's actual abandonment of wrong-doing, than he
would on an Atlantic of tears if you were able to
weep them. Look not, then, at your tears nor at
your feelings, but at your regrets and purposes.
Are you sorry that you  have sinned?   Do  you
truly regret that you have so long lived in the
habit of resisting the grace of Christ? Are you 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
resolved to "go and sin no more?"  If so, "believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be
saved." Send up your imploring cry to heaven,
saying:
"Jesus, Lord, my heart will break,
Save me for thy great love's sake."
For explanations and illustrations of saving faith
you may consult the following chapter.
266 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US. 267
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.
IN the hall of an emperor's palace a trembling girl
once cast herself at the monarch's feet and said:
"Pardon, sire! pardon for my father!"
"Who is your father?" inquired Napoleon; "and
who are you?"
"I am  Miss LAJOLAIS, and, sire, my  father is
doomed to die!"
"Ah, young lady," replied Napoleon, "I can do
nothing for you. This is the second time your father
has conspired against the state. It is just that he
should die!"
"Alas!" cried the girl, weeping bitterly; "I know
it, sire; but the first time papa was innocent. Today I do not ask for justice -I implore pardon, pardon for my father!"
The emperor's lips trembled and his piercing eyes
filled with tears. Recovering himself, he gave the 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
maiden his hand and said: "Well, my child, for your
sake I will pardon your father!"
Not justice but pardon! That is precisely what
you need at the hands of God, penitent youth! Jus tice would consign you to devouring flames. You
need, NOT JUSTICE -BUT PARDON.
You also need a renewed heart. Without that, if
pardoned, you would go on sinning as before. But
your heavenly Father has provided for that necessity.
In the moment of your pardon the Holy Spirit will
"shed the love of God abroad" in your heart.  That
love is the principle of regeneration, the vital element
of a new life, by means of which you will possess
both disposition and ability to keep the commandments of God.
PARDON, therefore, is the great gift which you are
to seek. And pardon is promised to all them that
believe on the name of Jesus.   "Whosoever  believeth in him shall receive remission of sin." What,
then, is that faith by which you are to obtain pardon?
The following illustration will make it plain.
Through~twelve weary years a poor woman had
been the victim of a wasting disease. She had made
herself penniless by her outlays in searching for
268 
THE FAITH TEAT SAVES US.  269
health. The most skillful physicians had pronounced
her incurable, and despair had built its throne in her
heart.
But one day there came into her city a man whose
fame had spread over all the land. He had healed
multitudes of sick. He had never failed to cure the
most stubborn case of disease. He had even raised
the dead, and commanded the powers of nature like a
God.   Hearing of his arrival the woman's hopes revived again.  "He  has cured others," she thought,
"he can cure me. He has never refused to put forth
his power, he will therefore put it forth for me. If I
can but see him I shall be cured!"
Thus believing in the power and love of JEsus, she
sought him in the crowded street. Feeble but reso lute, she edged her way through the living mass.
But after using her utmost effort she could only get
behind him, but not so as to catch his eye or ear.
Then she said in her heart, "I will touch the border
of his garment and that will be sufficient to heal me."
Forcing her arm between the persons who stood next
to the Saviour, she touched the border of his garment,
expecting to feel the tides of returning health flow
through her wasted form at once. And it was so. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
In that moment a delightful consciousness of perfect
health awoke within her. The suffering invalid was
suddenly transformed into a healthy and vigorous
woman.
Jesus, whose omniscient eye read all that passed in
her heart, set his seal on this woman's faith, when,
turning to her, he confirmed her cure by saying,
"Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made
thee whole; go in peace." Her faith may therefore
be safely regarded as an example of that faith by
which we are saved.
If you will review the history of this woman's ease
you will see (1.) that she despaired of recovery from
any other source within or without herself; (2.) that
she believed most implicitly in the love and power
of Jesus; and (3.) that, firmly relying in her heart
upon his power and love, she touched him, expecting
an instant cure.
Such is the faith which brings pardon to a penitent
sinner's  heart.   Like  the woman,  he  approaches
Christ, abandoning all trust in his own righteousness,
and firmly believing that God, faithful to his promises, will pardon all who come to him in the name of
Christ. Then, still following her example, he fixes
270 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  271
his mental eye on Jesus, the mediator, and touching
the border of his garment, says in his heart: "I take
thee, O Christ, to be my Saviour. I trust in thy
blood as the substitute for my eternal punishment. 1
rely on thy death for pardon. I am thy redeemed
one. Thou art my Saviour. Thy blood prevails. It
washes all my sins away." Thus leaning steadfastly
on Christ, expecting instant peace, the penitent becomes suddenly conscious of a sweet calm stealing
over his conscience. His previous depression floats
away like the morning mist. A strange warmth is
begotten in his heart. Christ becomes unspeakably
precious to him, and he feels an inward prompting to
look to God and fondly cry, "Abba, Father! my
Lord, my God, my Redeemer!"  "Being justified, he
has peace with God through Jesus Christ."
This is faith, saving faith. It is very easy, very
simple, to the truly contrite who cease all vain reason ings and, like the feeble invalid, make it their single
purpose to touch the Saviour's garment and rely
upon his love. Nevertheless, since unbelief is often
very stubborn, I will further illustrate the nature of
the faith which saves us.
In the highlands of Scotland there is a mountain. 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
gorge twenty feet in width and two hundred feet in
depth. Its perpendicular walls are bare of vegetation
save in their crevices, in which grow numerous wild
flowers of rare beauty. Desirous of obtaining specimens of these mountain beauties, some scientific tourists once offered a Highland boy a handsome gift if he
would consent to be lowered down the cliff by a rope,
and would gather a little basketful for them. The boy
looked wishfully at the money, for his parents were
poor; but when he gazed at the yawning chasm he
shuddered, shrunk back, and declined. But filial love
was strong within him, and after another glance at the
gift and at the terrible fissure,.his heart grew strong,
his eyes flashed, and he said:
"I'll go if my fateer will hold the rope!"
And then, with unshrinking nerves, cheek unblanched, and heart firmly strong, he suffered his
father to put the rope about him, lower him into
that wild abyss, and to suspend him there while he
filled his little basket with the coveted flowers. It
was a daring deed, but his faith in the strength of his
father's arm and in the love of his father's heart gave
him courage to attempt and power to perform it.
This boy's trust is a beautiful illustration of the
272 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  273
faith which saves the soul; for as he put himself into
his father's hands to be bound with the rope and lowered down the gorge to pluck the coveted flowers, so
must you put yourself into Christ's hands to be pardoned. Binding yourself with the promises of God's
mercy, you must give yourself into Christ's hands to
be lowered into that depth of self-abasement where
grows in peerless beauty the sweet flower of forgiveness. And when your feet are removed from all
human grounds of hope, when all consciousness of
self-righteousness is gone from within you, then, as
that boy found courage, and peace, and strength
in thinking, "My father knows this rope is strong;
my father is able to hold it; my father loves me too
well to let me fall," so Will you find pardon, peace,
and power in thinking, "s My Father in heaven will not
break this promise of mercy with which I have bound
myself to him.  He holds it in his hands.   He loves
me. He will not let his promise go. He saves me
for Christ's sake!"
Try this faith, penitent youth, and it will save thee
as surely as that boy's father held him firmly and
drew him safely from the mountain gorge.
A little girl who once heard this incident related
18
i 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
as an illustration of faith, perceived the truth it ex
plained, and found peace in believing. She was a delicate child, a pale mountain-flower, and soon drooped
before the rude blasts which swept the hills among
which she dwelt. She drew near the gates of death,
and with smiles of seraphic sweetness awaited their
opening. Loving eyes are fixed upon her as she
reaches the moment of departure. When lo! they
see her thin white arms spread out as if in search of
something.
"What are you feeling after, my child?" tenderly
inquires her weeping mother.
"I am feeling for the rope-the rope which Jesus
holds. I've got it now. He is pulling! I am going!" is her beautiful reply.
Her hands close. An angelic smile plays upon her
thin lips, a shout of rapturous joy breaks from her
tongue, and she is gone. Fastened to the rope that
Jesus holds, she is lifted into heaven!
How simple was that child's trust. Yet it was the
faith that saves.  God's promise to save "whosoever
believeth" is the rope which Jesus holds. You have
but to bind it about you by a mental act, to lie
calmly recumbent upon it, saying: "This is Christ's
274 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  275
promise sealed with his blood.  He will not break it.
He will keep it. He will raise me out of this pit of
gloomy guilt, and place my feet upon a rock.  He is
pulling it now!  I am  pardoned!" and you will
surely find mercy. The tempest in your heart will
be hushed, and your quieted soul will be calm as
heaven.
Take another illustration. A pious king was once
taken sick. A prophet was sent from God to inform
him that his sickness was unto death. Anxious for
longer life, the royal patient offered a prayer of faith
to God and was heard. Fifteen years were added to
his life, and the prophet was sent to heal him.  "Let
them take a lump of figs and lay it for a plaster upon
the boil and he shall recover,'" said the prophetic
messenger.
In firm reliance upon the virtue which the power
of God was to impart to this simple remedy, the
king applied it to his wound and recovered. And a
similar reliance upon the blood of Christ as the
means of healing your guilty soul, my reader, is
the faith that saves. To use the homely phrase of
THOMAS WATSON, you must by a mental act "spread
the sacred medicine of his blood upon your soul," 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
saying as you do it, "Heal my  soul for I have
sinned," and looking, while you pray, for the removal
of the pain of guilt from your conscience, and for the
springing up of that sweet peace in your heart which
is the sure result of an unmixed faith in the blood of
Christ, and you will be justified.
The following incident contains a singular but
beautiful conception of faith.
"What is the foundation of your hope?" said a
minister to a sick native of a South Sea isle.
"0,O" he replied, "I saw-an immense mountain
with precipitous sides, on which I tried to climb;
but when I reached a considerable height I lost my
hold and fell to the bottom.  Sad and fatigued, I
went to a distance and sat down to weep. While
weeping I saw a drop of blood fall upon that mountain, and in a moment it was dissolved. That mountain was my sins, and the drop which fell upon it was
one drop of he precious blood of Jesus, by which the
mountain of my guilt must be melted away."
Still another conception of justifying faith is contained in the following passage from the life of a
devoted servant of Christ.
When that eminently holy man, the REV. CHARLES
276 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  277
SIMEON, was seeking Christ, he groped as in Cimmerian darkness through three long months of bitter
grief for sin. At length he read this remark in a
sermon by Bishop Wilson: "The Jews knew what
they did when they transferred their sin to the head
of their offering."
These simple words shed a flood of light up?n his
heart.   He saw that just as the scape-goat carried
away the sins of the Jews, so Jesus takes away the
sins of those who trust in him for that purpose. Seeing this he cried out:
"What! may  I transfer  all my  guilt to  another.? Has God provided an offering for me that
I may lay my sins on his head?  Then, God willing,
I will not bear them on my own soul one moment
longer."
Thus Mr. Simeon cast his sins on the head of
Christ, believing that they would no longer be charged
against him. What was the result? The gloom of
his soul dispersed. The tempest in his heart was
calmed. The smile of Jesus beamed with hourly in creasing brightness upon his spirit, and a few morn ings after he awoke shouting: "Jesus Christ is risen
to-day!  Hallelujah!  Hal]elujah!" 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"From that hour," as he testifies, "peace flowed
in rich abundance into my soul. I had the sweetest
access to God through my blessed Saviour!"
All these different conceptions of faith are but so
many different modes of expression, either of which
may be chosen by a penitent if it will aid him in exercisiug that inward, undoubting, unyielding reliance
upon Christ for present pardon, which is the essence
of true faith. You may claim him as your scapegoat
carrying your sins into the wilderness; you may look
at his blood as falling on your sins and melting them
away; you may regard his blood as medicine healing
your soul, while by a mental act you spread it upon
yourself; you may bind yourself with his promise as
to the rope which Jesus holds, expecting him to raise
you up to the rock which is higher than you; you
may put yourself into God's hands to be lowered into
the vale of abasement, in which the flower of pardon
grows; or you may touch the border of his garment,
it is all one, only be sure that you rely on the merit
of Christ alone for present pardon.
On Christ only!  Mark that word ONLY! and that
you may understand its significance, read the following illustration:
278 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  279
An  ancient allegory describes  two boys, who,
having to cross a morass by a dangerous path, stood
trembling, and fearing to attempt it unaided. A
strong man, with loving aspect, offers to conduct
them. Placing himself between them, and offering
each a hand, he said to them, "Put your hands in
mine!"
One of the boys obeyed, and placed his hand in the
open palm of his guide.  The other said, "Not so,
sir. I will take your hand in mine. I am strong,
and can cling to you firmly, if we meet with danger."
Thus joined to their guide, they began their journey
over the marsh. At first the path was wide enough
for' the three to walk abreast. Gradually it grew
narrower, until it became a mere ridge barely sufficient for one person to tread upon. On either side
a deep ditch yawned upon the travelers Then the
boys trembled.   Having no foothold, their safety
depended entirely on their hold upon the friendly
guide.  The boy who had refused to put his hand in
the guide's, soon found himself unable to hold on to
the hand he grasped. His muscles and joints were
not strong enough to bear his weight, and, aftier
several painful struggles, his fingers relaxed their 
280    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
grasp, and he fell into the ditch and perished. The
other boy, having his hand in that of-his powerful
guide, was borne along in perfect safety. The hand
that held him was mighty to save, and he soon found
himself on safe and solid ground beyond the dreaded
mnorass.
Let this allegory teach you, that in coming to God
for pardon you must put yourself into Christ's hand,
just as the latter boy put his hand into the guide's.
You must rely for forgiveness solely on the fact that
he died for you.   That is putting yourself into
Christ's hands. If you mix with that reliance a secret
trust in your personal excellences, or in the merit of
your own repentance, you will be taking hold of his
hand instead of putting your hand into his. That
trust in yourself will prevent the victory of your
faith. Your personal excellences are lighter than
flecks of foam in God's sight. Repentance has no
merit. Faith has no merit. They are required because they imply states of mind which are essential
to a saving reception of Christ. Christ's blood alone
saves. "Not by works of righteousness which we
have done, but according to his mercy he saved us,"
says the inspired apostle. Your faith must, there 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  281
fore, turn away from every thought of merit in yourself, and fix its eye on Christ alone, saying, with a
certain poor sailor:
"I'm a poor sinner and nothing at all;
But Jesus Christ is my all and in all."
Or, with the more elegant, but equally orthodox, poet:
" Just as I am, without one plea
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd'st me come to thee,
0 Lamb of God, I come I
"Just as Jam, and waiting not
To rid myself of one dark blot,
To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
0 Lamb of God, I come I
"JUst as Jam, poor, wretched, blind,
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
0 Lamb of God, I come I
"Just  as lam thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
0 Lamb of God, I come I
"Just as Iam, Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come I"
Now then, beloved penitent, having shown you
what faith is, and having guarded you against mixing 
282    PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
the dross of self-righteousness with your trust in
Christ, let me exhort you to believe at once -jnust as
you are. Your heart may seem very hard, very
dark, very wicked; all sorts of fears may be trem bling within it, and you may appear to yourself to be
at an infinite distance from Christ. Be it all so and
worse, I, nevertheless, assure you, that if you have
solemnly covenanted to give up all sin and to accept
pardon from the lips of Jesus, as God's free unmerited
gift, you are on the threshhold of the kingdom of God.
Only believe, and you will be saved this instant!
Look up! the Saviour is close to thee.  Touch  the
hem of his garment!  Say in your heart, "He healeth my soul." Hold firmly to that confidence! O
how sweet it is to trust! Don't you feel it so?
Does a sweet calm steal over your heart while you
confide in him? Does Christ appear more precious
to thee than life? Does the Holy Spirit move thee
to cry, Abba, father? If so, joy to thee, my brother
in Christ, thou art saved! That calm is the peace of
God. That love to Christ is the divinely born principle of regeneration. Thou art saved! That cry is
begotten by the Spirit witnessing your adoption.
Glory be to God's holy name!  O rejoice! rejoice! 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  283
Sing with the prophet, "-0 Lord, I will praise thee:
though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortest me.  Behold, God is
my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid, for the
Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also
is become my salvation."
Should any lingering doubts assail you, do not
cast away your new-born confidence, nor give way to
idle reasonings, but repeat the act of faith! Put your
soul into Christ's hands in the spirit of the Highland
boy, and keep it there.  Say to Him: "I commit my
poor soul into thy hands, 0 blessed Jesus, to be pardoned, renewed, and saved. I am persuaded thou
dost now accept and save me according to thy faithful word, and that thou wilt keep me in the possession
of thy favor. I am thine, and thou, 0 blessed Jesus,
art MINE forever." Let nothing induce thee to surrender this inward persuasion, and, depend upon it,
Christ will honor it and comfort you.
If you are still in doubt, ponder the following
hymn. Read it line by line. Adopt its thoughts and
words for your own. Yield your heart to its teach ings, and it will lead you to a manifested and pardon.
ing Saviour: 
PLEASANT PATHWAYS.
"Arise, my soul, arise;
Shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding Sacrifice
In my behalf appears;
Before the throne my Surety stands,
My name is written on his hands.
" Five bleeding wounds he bears,
Received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers,
They strongly plead for me:
Forgive him, 0 forgive, they cry,
Nor let that ransom'd sinner die.
" The Father hears him pray,
His dear anointed One:
He cannot turn away
The presence of his Son:
His Spirit answers to the blood,
And tells me I am born of God.
"My God is reconciled;
- His pard'ning voice I hear;
He owns me for his child;
I can no longer fear:
With confidence I now draw nigh,
And Father, Abba, Father, cry."
And now, beloved youth, having guided you to
your Saviour and mine, I must bid you farewell.
When you took up this little book you were an heir
of hell. Now, if you have heeded my counsels, you
are saved by faith. Give God the glory and perse
284 
THE FAITH THAT SAVES US.  285
vere in well-doing. You will have difficulties, but
God will give you grace to overcome them.* Only
hold fast the beginning of your confidence, fight
a good fight, keep the faith, let not sin defile your garments, and God will "keep thee from the hour of
temptation," and give thee to "eat of the tree of life
which is in the midst of the paradise of God." May
it be your lot and mine to swell the number which
have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb, and
to enjoy, in sweet, inseparable companionship, "the
rest which remaineth for the people of God!"
* The difficulties and temptations to which the young Christian
is exposed are fully explamined and illustrated in "she Path of
Life," by the author of this volume. The reader will find much
to encourage him in that work, which is earnestly commended
to his consideration as a fitting sequel to this.
THE END.  
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