The Power of First Associations

‘‘On the Sabbath we went out of the city by a river side, where prayer was wont to be made; and we sat down, and spake unto the women which resorted thither.” — Acrs xvi. 13.

HE disciples went to hold a religious meeting outside the town; they came to

the river side. Why? Because it was a place of solitude? No; because it was a place of prayer in former days. I do not think solitude is favourable to worship; I do not think the river side so apt to kindle enthusiasm as the crowded assembly. But, whether in town or country, I think the spot of past associations has the advantage over every other spot. When we come to middle life, the life of the great city, there are times when our main attraction to religion is simply the power of past association. Many a man whose intellectual faith is shattered is bound to Christ by the memories of childhood — by seeing the place “where prayer was wont to be made.” It is a great argument for the early association of religion with joy. If the religion of our childhood has been happy — if the Sabbath school has been pleasant, if the teachers have been loved — it will be very hard to tear up these roots in manhood. When the clouds gather round your mature reason you will go back to the place “where prayer was wont to be made” — to the joyous group now separated and silent that met round the family altar, to the village choir of happy voices, to the Christmas-tree laden with gifts for the Child-Jesus. When the woodman is about to cut down an old tree, you remember that in youth it sheltered you, and you bid him forbear. So with the creed of the Cross. A thousand voices cry, “Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground!” But a still small voice answers, “Prayer was wont to be made here in the leng long ago; for the sake of memory let us keep the foliage green!” —

My brother, plant early the tree by the river of living waters! Let the religion of your children be from the first linked with gladness! If you put their tree by the river side in youth, they will sit by the river side in manhood also. The tree may be battered and bent — struck by the lightning, ravaged by the storm; but to them it will be ever green — green with the light of memory. Let your children have a place of which in the days to come they shall say, “Prayer was wont to be made here!” Plant early their tree, and let it be a Christmas-tree — a joyous tree! Plant it where the waters spring; plant it where the woodnotes ring; plant it where the breezes sing! Lay it among the flowers; shrine it among the bowers; tend it in the golden hours! Let no cypress come near it; let no willow touch it; Jet no thorn impede its opening way! Thorns will come in the afternoon; but keep them from the morning! Gild in the sunshine life’s opening door; encircle with music life’s dawning day! There will be clouds by and by, there will be discords by and by; but, when the clouds and discords meet your children on the river side, they will remember the old tree where prayer was wont to be made.