112 THE WORTH AND CARE OF THE SOUL. you. But is there nothing I can at present do for you? You said something about your sorrow having been increased since yesterday afternoon. Whatever was the cause of this, can I be of no use to you in the matter?" Thanks, many thanks, my dear young lady," replied the widow; "but nothing will be of any use till these poor boys shall turn to God. Oh! it was a dark event, the death of our good minister, and the settlement amongst us of this new light man. I am not just entirely saying that this man has caused all the outbreakings which are now happening; for he does not exactly preach up sin, or just in as many words tell people to do wrong. But oh! never a word does he speak about the divine glory, and the divine government, and the constraining love of the adorable Jesus, never a word about the desperate wickedness of the heart, and the necessity of being born again, and the awful guilt of not trusting in the blood of Christ alone for salvation. It is ever mercy, mercy that he preaches,-mercy which takes no account of the sinner 'putting on Christ,' and being renewed in the spirit of his mind, and will save every one who repents or says he is sorry for what he has done. Never is there a word about grace and the new creature. My poor boys were always made reasonable when our good minister, who is gone, preached the true gospel. But oh! this new light man's easy, easy way of preaching about sin and sinners has made the poor things quite forget themselves. If I teach them now the true nature of sin, and about being saved by grace, they somehow never do anything but laugh and mock and tell me of the minister's sermons, and the strange sort of mercy he is always saying is to be granted to every one. I cannot tell how, but they are becoming more and more wicked every day since ever they heard the new light doctrines. Only the Almighty knows where this is to end. Just yesterday afternoon, as I was about to tell you, oh! oh! the poor boys turned entirely wild. I was trying, in the sweetest manner I could, to open their eyes about the minister, and endeavouring to stop them from going to the meeting about giving him a present; and Dan jumped into a terrible rage, and broke the old table and chairs, and called me an old hypocrite, and behaved just like a madman. Then Edward and he went away to the town; and all the night through they have not been near me. But blessings for ever to divine grace, through the glorious Redeemer, there is comfort for me yet, in the precious gospel of peace; and may be The widow abruptly paused; for she saw one of her sons approaching the house. The young lady took her leave; and she did so, deeply pondering the influence of doctrines publicly taught on all the interests and wellbeing of life. THE WORTH AND THE CARE OF THE SOUL. You READER, in the following remarks I shall adopt the language of direct and personal address. I suppose you to be convinced, by every day's observation, that your continuance in this world must very soon terminate. You believe in the ennobling doctrine of the soul's immortality, and of the continued expansion of its capacities of enjoying or suffering throughout its endless existence. believe in eternal rewards and punishments; and you believe that the soul's future destiny will depend, not upon the wealth here amassed, the pleasure here enjoyed, or the knowledge here acquired; but upon the moral character here formed, and the spiritual life here begun. With this belief you are conscious that you have not formed that moral character, or commenced that spiritual life, which alone can fit you for eternal happiness. If such be your belief, and such your condition, I ask you to read what follows, as if it were addressed directly to yourself alone. THE WORTH AND CARE OF THE SOUL. 113 How What, then, is the worth of the soul? How shall it be measured? shall it be conceived? With what shall it be compared ? Its immortality and its ever-expanding capacities are the elements on which its value depends. Let one immortal soul enjoy for ever any definite and continued degree of happiness, however small-it is clear that the sum of its enjoyment, through the whole of its eternal existence, would exceed the sum of happiness that could be enjoyed in this world, by all the myriads of men that have ever inhabited it, or by the eight hundred millions that now inhabit it. Nay, the excess would be beyond all computation. Add, now, that the soul will enjoy not a very small continuance of happiness, but an inconceivably great, ever-enlarging, and absolutely unbounded measure of felicity, going on, increasing with its expanding capacities, in a geometrical ratio, through the interminable ages of its mortality,—and who will attempt to draw the comparison between the sum of that one soul's happiness and the sum of all the worldly felicity of all the world's inhabitants, from its creation to the present time? Well might it be asked, "What will it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Reader, do you go about, from day to day, conscious that there is in you a spirit of this inestimable value? And yet there is. Such a soul is committed to your care, and for its destiny you are accountable. And how stands that account? I appeal to your conscience. If you are assured that your soul is safe, I have no more to say. But if conscience tells you there is something wrong if there comes over you, in your solitary meditation, some fearful foreboding of future wrath-if you know that you have not loved the Lord your God with all your capacities of loving, or served him with all your capacities of serving, and that, for the violation of this first and great commandment, you are exposed to the penalty of eternal death,-do not refuse to give attention to this business of the soul's salvation, until it shall be for ever too late. Inestimably precious as the soul is, it may be lost, and lost without remedy! Will you incur that loss? Consider whether you yet have a clear conception of the value of the soul. It is easy to acknowledge its infinite worth, without having any distinct idea of it at all. The interests of your single soul are, in truth, of more moment than the worldly interests of all the nations of the earth put together. They are not only of more moment, in their relation to you, but even in themselves considered. The humblest and weakest Christian, that has secured the safety of his soul, and "fought the good fight of faith," has accomplished a nobler, sublimer, more momentous work, than all the acheivements of all the intellectual giants, military heroes, and political statesmen, that have ever rendered their names illustrious. The revolution that must be effected for the soul's emancipation, calls for more intense interest, and more intense action, than the greatest political revolution. The moral struggle you are conscious of, in your own breast, is to decide a question, bigger with momentous consequences than the vital interests of the greatest nation on the globe. In being invested with the care of your soul, you are invested with a higher trust, and placed under a more overwhelming responsibility, than could arise from being made the ruler and arbiter of all the nations of the earth. Do you believe it? Suppose you were made the chief magistrate of your country, with uncontrolled and unlimited power to make its laws, judge of their infraction, and see to their execution-to direct all the national concerns, and secure the public tranquillity and happiness-to decide every question-to reconcile the jarring 114 THE WORTH AND CARE OF THE SOUL. interests of commerce, manufactures, and agriculture,—in a word, to manage all its public concerns, both domestic and foreign; would you not feel yourself almost overwhelmed by the responsibilities incident to such a task? Suppose, again, that the interests of all the nations of the earth were committed to your care, so that on your plans and management should depend the public condition, the public welfare and happiness of them all. And suppose, in addition to this, that if it were possible, the social, domestic, and individual happiness of all the millions of this earth's inhabitants were made entirely and directly dependent on you, so long as you should remain in the world;-would you not be crushed under the insupportable burthen? Add, now, the care of the temporal welfare of another world just like this—a third—a fourth—hundreds-thousands—yes, millions of such worlds; and even then, all the weight of responsibility that would rest upon you, would bear no comparison with that, under which you are now living. You have, under your care, a soul, whose eternal destiny depends upon you-a destiny that plainly and undeniably involves a greater amount of weal or woe than could fall to the lot of all the inhabitants of millions of worlds like this, in the short space of your present life. But perhaps you may say, that the task of managing so complicated a machine as the political government of the world, would involve a much greater number of particulars, and a much greater amount of labour, than could be required for the care of a single soul. But, think you, that to make rules by which you may be guided in all the changing scenes and involved circumstances of life-faithfully to apply, and unhesitatingly to execute those rules-to deny the craving appetites--to direct the wayward desires-to restrain the headlong passions—to fix the wandering affections-to resist daily and hourly, temptations on the right hand and on the left-to keep yourself perfectly unspotted from the world-to wrestle, not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers-all the while to be assiduously engaged in active benevolence, and in mental and moral improvement, without yielding to the enticements, either of pleasure or of indolence;-think you, this is not a task, involving many particulars, and demanding labour? Be urged to an immediate attention to the concerns of your soul,-not only by the happiness that is to be gained, but by the misery that is to be avoided. Remember that the soul's capability of misery is equal to its capability of happiness-that you have the testimony of God, that it is now exposed to that misery, and unless you make a determined and desperate effort, it is ruined for ever. Its immortality will be an eternal death;—an eternal death! Who can fathom the full significancy of those awful words? Eternity of death! Reader, are you exposed to such a destiny? Think of it. If you are-be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer. It will not avail you to plead that you never made any promise to attend to to the care of your soul. You are accountable, neverthelesss, and your accountability you cannot avoid-you cannot decline it--you cannot run from it—you cannot suspend it, or rid yourself of it a single moment. It is inseparable from your nature, a part of your very being. It clings to you, and will for ever cling to you. Your Maker waits with you, that you will do your duty. He requires it of you now. The vows of the professed Christian, are nothing more than an expression of his determination to perform what it was his duty to perform before. His duty is yours. Will you do it? Parental Monitor. HOW TO INSTIL A LOVE OF TRUTHFULNESS. It is believed, that one of the most effectual means of inculcating a love of truthfulness, is to get the love of God early implanted in the hearts of our children. Few traits of character appear more lovely in old or young than devotion to truth. Whether this be an indigenous growth in the natural heart is made more than doubtful by the teachings of revelation and the results of experience. If it were so, why does it not flourish in its own native soil? After laudable endeavours to obtain for it a footing in the young heart, why is it marred, and often blasted by its first contact with temptation? Why is it, that, under the most favourable circumstances, if it vegetate, and reach sufficient size to attract the public eye, it is always reckoned among the rarest plants of earth? Why is it, that among the many virtues which adorn the character of the "Father of his country," this usually finds its place at the head of the list? Surely, the reason is, because it is a flower of no common growth. It is an exotic, requiring great Skill to engraft it on a stock so uncongenial to its healthful development as man's heart is by nature. True, it has shown signs of life in some bosoms, where it had little else to sustain it besides policy and expediency; but where it finds no better nourishment than these, it either withers away and dies, or maintains a fitful and sickly existence. Those who adhere to truth only because it is politic to do so, will generally be found ready to abandon truth whenever policy shall decide that abandonment is necessary. The aliment which above all others, imparts health, vigor, and maturity to this delicate and invaluable plant, is love to God. Where this is exuberant, there will it be seen to display itself, in all its heaven-originated beauty and perfection. Where this is wanting, if it exists at all, it is so spindling and dwarfish, as to excite disgust rather than admiration. A scrupulous adherence to truth our selves, is among the most effective means of inculcating truthfulness. In vain shall it ever be for us to preach to our children about the sacredness of truth, while we practise dissimulation in word or deed. To talk of truth and act deceitfully, is to inculcate error in its most subtle and dangerous form. This is believed to be the ground-work of that miserable heresy, that truth is but an expedient at best. And though this sentiment has found its way into a system of Christian doctrine, and occupies a prominent place in a treatise on moral philosophy, it is nevertheless a beguiling, soul-destroying heresy. It is, in fact, but a modification of the favourite dogma of the Jesuits, that the end sanctifies the means. We have read of a child, who said, "My father never lies." Here was a father who could be a successful inculcator of truthfulness. He stood upon an eminence utterly inaccessible to the man who bases his love of truth upon expediency, and who, by word and deed, creates the impression that truth has no original inherent excellency in it. In the work of inculcating a love of truthfulness, it will be found of singular utility, rightly and faithfully to define what lying is. Suffer not your children to learn, but rather encourage them to spurn the debasing notions of Milton and Paley, when they speak upon this subject. Tell them that pious frauds and white lies never had an existence, save in the distempered ravings of a heathenish philosophy, or in the rapacious avarice of papal Rome; that these phrases not only carry an absurdity upon their front, but that they were designed to work a fraud upon the sacred oracles of God. Tell them that, though the guilt of lying may be aggravated by the ill effects which follow it, yet that the Bible nowhere intimates that its guilt is restricted to any such condition; but that falsehood, whenever spoken, and for whatever purpose, is offensive to God. Tell them that in the end, whatever be the dreams of the rationalist, the evidence of experience will be found to illustrate and enforce the dictates of principle. Tell them that whoever utters what is untrue, professing to speak truth, and knowing that the hearer expects truth, is guilty of lying. Tell them that a lie may be acted as well as spoken. Tell them that, although an honest mistake is no crime, yet that malignant falsehoods are often perpetrated in the words of truth. Tell them that to state as fact what we do not know to be true, is as much a violation of truth, as to state for fact what we know to |