w,v ‘ *tHSlTY OF 
 
WHO SHALL BE YOUR ADVISERS? 
 
 BY PRESIDENT TUTTL 
 
 
 “ Sirs, ye should have hearkened unto me, and not have loosed from Crete 
 and to have gained this harm and loss.” Acts xxvii, 21. 
 
 The winds and waves are proverbial for instability and 
 power. The discoveries of modern science have not changed 
 this fact, which is as apparent now as in those far-off times 
 when the Apostle Paul accomplished his famous voyages on 
 the “great sea.” The waters of the sea still threaten the 
 destruction of the stoutest ships, and so treacherous are they 
 that, smooth as glass now, or only agitated with gentle wave- 
 lets, in an hour they may be swept with furious tempests into 
 great waves that shall cause the boldest sailor to cry out in 
 terror. 
 
 About the first of October, in the year of our Lord sixty- 
 two, a ship was riding at anchor at a point on the south coast 
 of the island of Crete. As compared with one of our ocean 
 steamers it was a rude affair. It was square at each end, and 
 had in the middle a single mast, with a huge yard-arm, to 
 which the sail might be hung. It was a vessel of considera- 
 ble size, and on it were several hundred persons, composed of 
 sailors, the ordinary passengers, and a company of Roman 
 soldiers under the command of a Centurion. This Roman 
 officer had several state prisoners in charge whom he was 
 conducting to Rome. The most remarkable of these was the 
 Apostle Paul, who, for some reason, was treated with the 
 most marked respect by all on board, and especially by the 
 Centurion. 
 
 The most valuable thing entrusted to this ship’s crew was 
 human life . Besides this, the vessel was also laden with val- 
 uable merchandise on its way to market ; so that, in either 
 light, that of precious human life, which has no value in rprb- 
 ney, or of property whose value can be named in moneyTrt, 
 
 r 
 
2 
 
 was a matter of great moment that no misfortune should be- 
 fal that ship. 
 
 About the beginning of our second fall month the naviga- 
 tion of the Mediterranean for such rude and unwieldy vessels 
 as that just referred to was regarded as hazardous. Even 
 now, at that season, storms are not unusual of such severity 
 as sometimes to put in peril the staunchest steamer. How 
 much more so the vessels which crept along the shores of that 
 famous sea, only striking out boldly from the land when com- 
 pelled to, eighteen centuries ago. That stormy period of the 
 year had arrived, and there at Fair Havens — not the best of 
 harbors, but still a harbor — was the ship in which Paul was 
 carried a prisoner on his way to Rome. A long voyage was 
 yet to be made, and the question which agitated the master 
 of the ship and the sailor, the Centurion and the private sol- 
 dier, was the safety of continuing the voyage at that season 
 of the year. It is true that just now the weather is fair and 
 the sea calm, but the time has arrived when storms are to be 
 expected. Is it wise to weigh anchor and shake out the sail 
 on the broad sea, or shall we remain where we are in this 
 harbor? It is evident that these people on that ship asked 
 such questions. We may, without any strain of imagination, 
 suppose that the Centurion, with whom the final decision of 
 the question rested, put to the experienced ship-master and 
 his sailors, and perhaps to intelligent people resident upon the 
 island, such questions as these: Does the stormy period some- 
 times delay until the middle or last of October, or is there 
 such uniformity in its times that you feel quite sure it will be 
 here very shortly ? Are these storms always violent and dan- 
 gerous, or are they sometimes light and harmless? From all 
 that you know is it, in your opinion, safe to leave this harbor 
 now ? 
 
 The narration implies that it was the opinion of all on board 
 that it would not be very pleasant to remain in that harbor 
 several months, and that it would involve considerable addi- 
 tional cost. The thought of wintering there was not agreea- 
 ble to sailor, soldier or prisoner. The Centurion, as already 
 stated, was to decide the question of remaining or risking a 
 continuance of the voyage, and he, like a wise man, asked 
 
3 
 
 the advice of those who were supposed to have experience. 
 The ship-master, perhaps biased by the cost of wintering 
 so far from home, and his sailors, biased by the desire either 
 to reach more attractive quarters, or perhaps their home, ad- 
 vised to venture the voyage. The sailors agreed in this ad- 
 vise, as is evident at their satisfaction, after leaving port, in 
 finding, as they supposed, their judgment confirmed by the 
 favoring weather and wind. 
 
 One man on that ship, and he a prisoner, gave advice 
 which was the precise opposite of that followed. He wa* 
 not a sailor, but he was a man of close observation and clear 
 judgment. It is unnecessary to consider his advice in this 
 instance as the result of any miraculous inspiration. He was 
 born on the shore of this very sea, and had often accomplished 
 voyages over its treacherous waters. He told the captain and 
 Centurion, as we may well suppose, to “ recall the facts which 
 the past furnished as to the danger of navigating these wa- 
 ters, 4 because the fast was now already past/ This year it 
 may come a little later than usual, but it will surely come, 
 and when it comes sailing is always dangerous. It is true 
 to-day the waves sleep and the winds are still; it is true it 
 will cost some money to winter in a foreign port, and it will 
 not be very pleasant to remain so long away from your 
 homes; yet past observation makes it certain that you can 
 not now commit yourselves to this sea without putting in 
 great peril the cargo and the lives on this ship. Therefore, 
 sirs, I admonish you that if you venture, your voyage will be 
 with hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, 
 but also of our lives/* 
 
 The Centurion was evidently in doubt which advice to fol- 
 low, but finally determined to reject Paul’s and adopt the 
 ship-captain’s. The result I need not describe. 
 
 What is pertinent to my present purpose, and the apology 
 for this extended introduction, is that the men in charge of 
 that ship ventured on that disastrous voyage in view of ad- 
 vice, and, as the event proved, of bad advice. They declined 
 to follow what the event proved to be good advice. They fol- 
 lowed the bad advice, and lost both the ship and its cargo 
 and put every life on board in the most serious peril. Ha 
 
4 
 
 they followed the good advice they would have escaped the 
 peril and the shipwreck. 
 
 I do not propose to deliver to my young friends and pupils, 
 this night, an elaborate essay or argument. For the first time 
 this “ College year ” I am conducting the Sabbath evening 
 College service, so precious to us from its past history. Here 
 is a large company of young men, gathered from many widely 
 separated homes. Some of them for the first time meet us 
 here. All profess to have a worthy object in view, and all are 
 encompassed with the perils of temptation. 
 
 I have often watched the ships in New York harbor, with 
 their sails reefed, but ready to be shaken out to the wind, and 
 whose engines were holding their Titanic forces ready to 
 shove the great ships out into the ocean for a voyage to an- 
 other continent, and I always felt some degree of sadness in 
 viewing even so grand a sight, because the gallant ship can 
 not cross the ocean without the peril of collision, or the ice- 
 berg, or foundering, or fire. The voyage, begun with boom- 
 ing cannon, and exhilarating strains of music, and merry 
 smiles, and smooth seas, and bright skies, may terminate in 
 some such catastrophe as overtook the Central America, or 
 smote the Arctic, or swallowed up the President in depths so 
 profound that no voice ever came back to tell its fate. To 
 steer the ship a point or two this way or that may involve it 
 in any one of the horrors which have been recorded in the 
 history of those u who go down into the sea in ships and do 
 business great waters.” The voyage is begun ; how shall it 
 end? That is the question which saddens the otherwise in- 
 spiring sight. 
 
 Not unlike this is the situation of every young man before 
 me. He is just moving out from the wharf on a voyage pro- 
 pitiously begun, the termination of which is known only to 
 God. . He is to-day in health ; the year may close over his 
 grave. 
 
 I confess to the feeling of sadness, in spite of many plea- 
 sant facts, as we begin our College year ; and this sadness is 
 not mainly in view of the fact that death this year may ter- 
 minate the earthly career of some one of these young men. 
 To a good man death is not the greatest conceivable calam- 
 
5 
 
 ity. He who is pure in heart ought not to be considered un- 
 fortunate when permitted to see God. He who has filled up 
 his life with works of love and goodness ought not to be com- 
 miserated as so very unfortunate when the Master says to 
 him, “ Enter into the joys of thy Lord.” 
 
 It is not the possible fact of death to any one of our num- 
 ber that makes me sad to-night in looking over this company 
 of young men, but it is this question, as to how you, my 
 young friends, are to endure the moral tests and trials of this 
 year, which tinges this otherwise glad hour with sadness. 
 Young men in times past have come here on whom dishonor 
 had set no seal and left no stain ; they came pure from the 
 family home, with the very imprint of affection still on their 
 lips ; they came, apparently, with noble aspirations and reso- 
 lute purposes to cleave to that which is good and to abhor 
 that which is evil ; and yet, in some fevi cases, their aspirations 
 after good were drowned in the vortex of passion, and their 
 abhorrence of the bad reversed at the imperious dictate of an 
 evil heart fired by the solicitations of sin. Some here, in 
 times past, have been tempted to do deeds which they can 
 never recall without shame — deeds that have left a blot on the 
 good name which ought to have been more precious than 
 great riches. Some have so far forgotten true manliness as to 
 be false to it by making promises only to break them. Some 
 have committed deeds in darkness that would make them 
 tremble if displayed to the world in the open day. Some 
 have squandered on appetite and the weak vanity of display, 
 and, it may be, on worse objects still, the money earned by 
 the sweat of the father and the toil of the mother, and even 
 the precious wages of the sister, who was wearing out her 
 young life to gain the privileges of education for her brother, 
 that he might become a man. Some have slept, and dozed, 
 and lazed away the hours and opportunities God gave them for 
 improvement. Some — forgive the seeming harshness — some 
 who might have been wise, have, through indolence or vicious 
 indulgence become fools whom no braying in the mortar with 
 wheat by the pestle of discipline could deliver from their 
 folly. Some who might have shone in our firmament with 
 the mild and beautiful radiance of stars have gone down into 
 
6 
 
 ignominious darkness. Some, with less discretion than the 
 bird for whose wary feet the unconcealed net is spread in vain, 
 have stepped rashly and with open eyes into the uncovered 
 net of the saloon and the gambling-hell. Aye, some who 
 here might have climbed to the high places of the earth, have 
 plunged headlong into the depths of shame for time, and per- 
 haps into the depths of eternal perdition. 
 
 On the other hand, here many a young man has striven 
 against poverty, and misfortune, and temptation ; has met 
 the same solicitations to laziness, unthrift and sin that were 
 the occasion of ruin to the other, and he has overcome them 
 all, rising from the hard-won victory into a manhood that 
 commanded the respect of all beholders. Such cases are not 
 rare, nor can they ever become common-place through repeti- 
 tion, and they constitute the highest joy and reward of the 
 true teacher. Such cases compensate him for all his other 
 pains and toils. Such rare men come not infrequently from 
 obscure places, without patronage or help, and yet, with God’s 
 blessing, do great works for themselves and their fellow men. 
 Blessings on the toils of men who so honor our common man- 
 hood. 
 
 The two results reached by these two classes are as widely 
 different as the results to two ships which leave the same har- 
 bor to cross the same ocean for a common port, the one of 
 which reaches the port in safety, and the other is wrecked. 
 Indeed, the results reached by the two classes of young men 
 in this and other literary institutions may be thus marked : 
 the one, “ a prosperous voyage,” the other, “ shipwreck.” 1 
 have said you, my young friends, have just started on a voy- 
 age, and the question forces itself on us for an answer, What 
 is to be its termination ? a prosperous voyage, or a shipwreck? 
 
 We are to recognize the hand of God in all things. If He 
 do not aid us our best efforts will be in vain ; but, while re- 
 cognizing this truth, I venture to assert that the question will 
 be answered mainly by determining who shall be your ad ri- 
 sers, and what shall be the advice you follow. The Centurion 
 chose the ship-master as his adviser, and was shipwrecked* 
 Had he chosen Paul he would have escaped the catastrophe. 
 My young friends, who shall be your advisers, and what advice 
 
7 
 
 shall you follow ? There are books which offer themselves as 
 the advisers of youth — books which teach them to scoff at re- 
 ligion and virtue; there are pamphlets and newspapers whose 
 pages reek with vileness and the deeds of profligate and bad 
 men; there are books of various forms and styles which ad- 
 vise men to live regardless of God and His Son Jesus Christ. 
 Shall these books be your advisers ? Will you follow their ad- 
 vice? Do you say, yes? Then your voyage cannot but ter- 
 minate in shipwreck. 
 
 But here is a Book which offers itself as the adviser of 
 youth. “Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? 
 By taking heed thereto according to Thy Word.” The histo- 
 ries related in it are authentic and very ancient — by many 
 hundreds of years more ancient than the oldest Greek narra- 
 tives, and these histories are true. Its philosophy is profound ; 
 its poetry charming; its morality pure; its religion divine; its 
 advice such as might; be expected from the infinitely great and 
 good Father in heaven to his little, ignorant children on earth- 
 All who have heeded this advice have grown better, purer, 
 happier; their path has been like that of the sun, shining 
 brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. This book flames 
 light into the dark and hard places of life, and down into the 
 grave itself. This book of advice has no peer. The like of it 
 was never written and never can be. It stands alone as God ? s 
 book of advice to the young, and indeed to all. 
 
 And, young men, which shall you choose for your advisers, 
 the books which teach infidelity and immorality, or this 
 book, on whose every page God has left his own uncounter- 
 feitable sign-manual ? Take the former, and your voyage 
 must terminate in shipwreck; take the latter, and it shall end 
 in glory. 
 
 In this College, among your own selves, and not only in 
 this town but everywhere else, you can find those who, both 
 by example and precept, shall advise you to drink intoxicating 
 liquors, in violation of your honor as members of the institu- 
 tion and your duty as moral beings, to visit the places where 
 they are sold, and where, perhaps, the arts of stealing are ac- 
 quired at the billiard table, the card table, or the faro bank ; 
 they will advise you not to be so silly as to be afraid of form- 
 
8 
 
 ing any bad habit, as if such great and strong men as you 
 cannot control yourselves and resist any temptations, however 
 strong! Oh, yes, you will find men who shall give you most 
 strange and dangerous advice, and enforce it by their own ex- 
 ample. My soul, come not thou into their secret ; unto their 
 assembly, mine honor, be not thou united; for often in their 
 malignity do they slay men, and in their self-will they even 
 dig down the walls of many a happy home! These advisers of 
 youth are so intent on destroying virtue, and truth, and honor, 
 so bent on the destruction of the innocent and the unwary, 
 that their very sleep is taken away unless they cause some to 
 fall, as if in failing to destroy some they had even failed in 
 duty. Strange wickedness! and yet it is found here, and 
 some who practice this atrocious wickedness offer themselves 
 as your advisers. 
 
 There are other advisers who tell you to scorn that which 
 is mean, to avoid that which is polluted, and to be so afraid 
 even of the place of sin as not even to pass that way. They 
 entreat you to abhor that which is evil and to cleave to that 
 which is good. They point you to God, whose goodness is 
 displayed on every side, and advise you to love and obey 
 Him. They point to our Lord Jesus Christ, who died on the 
 cross to save you, and advise you to believe in him to the sal- 
 vation of your souls. They point you to the beauty and de- 
 sirableness of a useful and virtuous life, and advise you to 
 attain it. They point you down to the dreadful hell, and ad- 
 vise you to escape it. They point you up to the glorious hea- 
 ven, and advise you to win it. 
 
 Which of these two classes of advisers will you heed ? 
 Shall it be those who solicit you to the places of sin and the 
 courses of infamy, or those who who would lead you along 
 the narrow but shining path of virtue, honor, piety, goodness? 
 Tell me, my young friends, who are to be your advisers, and 
 I will confidently predict whether the voyage you are now be- 
 ginning in such favorable and pleasant circumstances shall 
 have a prosperous close or end in shipwreck. It is a great 
 and thrilling question, which 1 once more, in this closing sen- 
 tence, ring in your hearing, Who shall be your advisers?