The Young Man Entering Life

“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’^ — Proverbs iii. 6.

This text may be called the poll-star of human life, placed by the hand of God in the firmament of Scripture, for the eye of man to observe upon earth; and he that fixeth his attention upon it, and steereth his course by it across this troubled and dangerous ocean, shall enter at length the haven of everlasting peace. It is applicable to all persons, and to all situations; but especially to those who are just entering upon the duties, the dangers, and the perplexities, of man’s terrestrial course. As a rule of conduct it is brief, simple, intelligible, and unmistakeable, easily remembered, and delightful in the observance. It implies, rather than asserts, the existence and operations of an all-comprehensive, all-wise, all-gracious Providence, that appoints, directs, and controls the afiairs of men — a Providence that is not only general, as guiding the destinies of nations and worlds, but is particular and minute, as shaping the history of individuals. There are some who profess to believe in a Providential interposition in the great events of history, but deny its regard to the minute afiiiirs of individuals. But who can tell what, in fact, is gre?t, and

30 TTIE YOUNO man’s FRTKND.

what is little, or how far great events are iiifin nc ;(] by lesser ones? The destinies of nations have soniL^times hung upon a thought. But we need not reason upon this, since Christ has asserted that” a sparrow falleth not to the ground without the knowledge of our Heavenly Father.’’ Without this view, the doctrine of Providence might be grand as an object of contemplation, but it could yield little consolation as a subject of faith. Individual trust, prayer, hope, and praise, all rest upon the ground of individual Providence. It is not what God is to the universe at large, but what he is to me as an individual, that is the chief source of my comfort, and the strongest motive to my duty. Now the text proposes him to us as an oracle we may individually consult; and the injunction means, that, really believing God by his Providence directs all things, we should consult him by reading his Holy Word, where he has revealed his will; and that by sincere and earnest prayer we seek his leave /or everything, his direction in everything, his blessing njion everything, and his glory by everything, we do. In short, it means a devout and practical remembrance of God, as the Disposer of all things, in all the varying circumstances and all the changeful situations of life; and promises us his wise and gracious direction in all our affairs. How easy — how safe — how tranquil — how dignified a course of action! How vast the privilege of this access to an omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, all-sufficient Friend, for advice, direction, and consolation. Why a wise and benevolent human counsellor ever at hand is a blessing, how much more one that is Divine.

So much for the text. Wc now come to the subject of the Sermon — The Young Man Entering upon Life: by which we mean that period of his existence which follows his education and apprenticeship, when he usually leaves his father’s house, and becomes a shopman, clerk, or journeyman — the intermediate stage between the youth and the man of business. Yet it may be remarked that the periods and situations intended to be described and distinguished as separate, in the last sermon and this, run much into one another, and extend onward to settlement in life and the commencement of business.

This, young men, is the situation of those whom I now address — you are most of you not in business for yourselves but looking forward to it; off from your parents, supporting yourselves by your own industry, and, therefore, just stepping upon the stage of active life; commencing your part in the great drama, with the scenes already shifting before and around you.

Let me, then, remind you, a little more at large, —

First, Of your actual situation.

It is one of deep and pressing solicitude to your parents and other friends.

They have parted from you, and sent you forth, almost with the feeling and the fear that it was as lambs among wolves. They know, for they have passed through them, the dangers of youth, and of a youth away from home. If your good conduct and well-formed character at home, have inspired them with confidence, their solicitude is somewhat abated; but even then an anxious father will exclaim, ^’ What if this fair blossom of parental hope, which grew so beautifully and looked so lovely, when sheltered under the parental roof, should now be blighted when removed to the ungenial blasts of the world’s temptations — the very possibility makes my heart bleed — Ok, my son, my son.’” How intensely aggravated is this painful solicitude, if unhappily his child is going forth undecided in religion, unconverted to God with no “armor of righteousness on the right hand and on the left,” to defend him from the assaults of temptation; and if even at home portents have showed themselves of future misconduct. “Oh,” says the distressed father, “if the wholesome laws, the firm, yet mild restraint of parental authority and domestic order, could not repress the outbreaks of youthful irregularity, what is to become of him, when even these are withdrawn, and he is left to the unchecked strength of his own corruptions, and the force of surrounding temptations — Oh my son my son r’* Young men, you cannot know all a father’s and a mother’s agonizing solicitude for you, on your going out into the world; but yuu can conceive of it in part, by the scenes of that sorrowful hour when amidst so many tears your mother parted from you, and with a voice half-choked, your father grasped your hand and stammered out, “Farewell, my boy. Behave yourself well, and comfort our hearts by your good conduct.” How anxious are they to hear from you, and of you — to have their fears dissipated and their hopes confirmed. How eagerly, joyfully, and yet how tremblingly, they open every letter to judge from its contents whether there are any signs of incipient moral mischief in your character. Respect their feelings; reward their affection; relieve their solicitude. Call it not suspicion, jealousy, distrust.. No, no, it is love trembling over its object; affection agonizing for its loved one. Many an hour is that mother kept waking at midnight, thinking and praying for her absent son, who has recently left her to enter upon the world’s business; and often amidst other cares, does your father feel it to be one of the mightiest of them all, to consider how his boy conducts himself in his new situation. Let me plead then for the peace of those two hearts which throb so anxiously for you, and for the peace of which, as it is in your keeping, your own ought to throb most responsively.

But I now turn from your parents, and remind you of the momentous and infinite importance of this period of your life to yourselves. It is, in all probability, the crisis of your history — the hinge of your destiny — the casting of your lot for both worlds — the formation of your character for time and for eternity. Through every hour, almost every minute of this term, and in every scene, your character is passing from that state of fusion in which it was left by boyhood and youth, into the cold, hard solidity and fixedness of manhood and mediaeval life. Upon the time that is now passing over you, it depends chiefly what you are to be, and to do through all time and eternity. The next two years will very likely determine the great question, concerning the character of your whole existence. The observable tendencies of boyhood and youth — the signification prognostication of the pupil and the apprentice — the declaratory signs of earlier years, will now receive their full, and perhaps final confirmation. Your character growing, like your body, through the previous stages of existence, now like that, arrives at its full shape and maturity, which it will hereafter retain and exhibit. Can you be thoughtless and carelessly indifi’erent at such a crisis? Is it possible.’’ Can you help saying, “Is it so, then — am I really now, just at this period, becoming my permanent, future self.? Am I determinincr for all time, and for all eternity, what kind of moral, social, and intellectual “being I am to be? Am I now casting my lot, forming my destiny, choosing my character? What thoughtfulness, seriousness, devoutness, and prayer for God’s Holy Spirit to assist me, ought I to manifest .? What W’ aid

I be in and through all future life, and through all eternity? What I am now, that in all probability I shall be. I am entering upon life, and as T begin, so am I likely to continue.” Yes, stand by that consideration. It is of immense importance to start well. He that at the beginning of his journey takes the wrong road, diverges at every step farther and farther from the right path; and though return is not impossible, yet at what an expense of time and comfort is it made? Take care, then to begin well. Solomon says, ^’ Better is the end of a thing than the beginning.” Especially if it be a good end of a bad beginning. But how rarely does a thing end well, that begins ill. The fruit is better than the blossom — the reaping than the sowing — the victory than ths battle — the home than the journey — the reward than the service. But then all these better endings depend on good beginnings. There can be no rich fruit in autumn, without good blossom in spring — no plentiful reaping without plentiful sowing — no victory without a well-fought battle — no returning home without a journey along a right road. So there can be no rational expectation of a good end of life, without a good beginning.

Secondly. — I will now remind you of the dangers that attend your entering into life. Yes, dangers: and I really wish to excite your fears by the word. I am anxious to awaken your apprehension by thus ringing the alarm bell. Not indeed by raising spectres which have no real existence; not by calling up spirits from the vasty deep of a gloomy imagination. No, there is no need of flitting before you, in order to excite your fears, the dark shadows and the ghosts of moral romance. The sober and dread reahties of daylight, and of every-day existence, are sufficiently numerous and appalling to justify the use of the most solemn, impres sive, and earnest warnings we can give. Young men, it is a truth, and for you a dread and anxious one, that the moral dangers of life stand thickest round its entrance. The most perilous rocks and shoals in the voyage of life, are at the mouth of the river where it enters the ocean; and notwithstanding the light-house beacon, which in the Holy Scriptures and the faithful labors of authors and preachers, ever keeps holding out its friendly warnings over these dangerous places, more shipwrecks are made there than anywhere else.

These dangers are so numerous that they must be classed.

I. There are some which have been thrown in your way, perhaps, by the injudicious conduct of your ‘parents. They may have altogether neglected your moral training, and have left you to go forth into the world without any fixed principles, any good habits, or any rightly formed character. Yea, by a system of false and weak indulgence, they may have partially unfitted you for the trials, the difficulties, the roughnesses, and self denial of life. We will not dwell upon their conduct with the severity it deserves; but be aware of their mistake and call up your own wisdom to correct it. They have left you something to undo, as well as to do. Supply, by your own resolute will, the deficiency of hardihood with which they have left you. Abandon the soft and efi’eminate habits in which they have trained you, and determine to be men and to acquire a manly character. You can, if you will, make up their deficiences — but it will require much efibrt and more perseverance.

II. There are next the dangers that are inherent in yourselveSy and these are the greatest of all. You not only go to meet perils, you carry them forth with you.

1. Now at the head of all this class, I must place the corruption of your own hearts. “Know thyself,” was supposed by the ancients to be a maxim so replete with important wisdom as to have descended from heaven. No man can properly exercise self-government, without self-knowledge. False notions on this subject must of necessity lead to practical errors of a most momentous kind. I cannot, I dare not, I will not flatter you by speaking highly of the native goodness, the moral dignity of human nature. Scripture, observation, and experience, must combine to prove to any impartial mind, that man is in a lapsed condition, alien from God, and estranged from righteousness. This is a first principle, not only in all true religion, but in all sound philosophy. Leaving out this, it is impossible satisfactorily to account for the present condition and general history of the human race. Forgetting, or denying this, your whole system of religion and morals will be wrong, and your whole course of action defective and erroneous. You will not, cannot know, the chief source of your danger, and that which alone can account for the existence and power of other dangers: nor will you know whence or how to begin, or how to proceed in watching and guarding against them. There is, you know it, you feel it, and perhaps some of you lament it, a fatal propensity to evil, which — though inclining to what is wrong, yet as by divine grace it may be resisted and removed, and is therefore neither irresistible tendency nor invincible necessity, but a voluntary choice — is no excuse for actual sin, though it may account for it. It is not danger from without only you have to fear, but also from within; not from others merely, but from yourself. You carry your tempter in your own heart, you were your own tempter. You will be surrounded with external seductions, and you will also expose to them a nature too willing to be soduced. There is in you “an evil heart of unbelief in departing from the living God.” You have more need to be afraid of yourself than even of Satan or the world. These cannot tempt you but through your own corruptions. Hence the imperative need of your seeking first of all the entire renovation of your own hearts, and keeping evermore a constant watch over yourselves. You will be most inadequately prepared to grapple with temptation unless you know what it is that gives it force.

But the corruption of our hearts assumes a different form in different persons, and puts itself forth in a manner appropriate to our age, circumstances and temptations. In your case there are those “youthful lusts,^^ from which by apostolic injunction you are exhorted to flee. In addition to an inflammable and prurient imagination — rashness and impetuosity of temper — the thoughtlessness and recklessness of disposition — the pride of independence — and the head-strong waywardness, which are too common to youth — there are the animal apjpetites and jprojpensities which are now coming out in all their force: those promptings of licentiousness and impulses of sensuality, to which there are so many incentives, and which require so strong a restraint by reason and religion — I mean, young men, the vices which form the drunkard and the debauchee: those illicit gratifications which degrade the man into the brute. The danger here exceeds all the alarm I can possibly give. No warning can be too loud, no entreaties too importunate, in regard to this peril. Voices from the pulpit, from the hospital, from the hulks, from the workhouse, from the lunatic asylum, from the grave, and from the bottomless pit, — all unite in saying, “Young men, beware of sensuality.” Flee from them as from a serpent or a lion. Kead what Solomon says, who could speak on such a subject from his own unhappy and dishonorable experience “The lips of a strange woman drop as an honey-comb, and her mouth is smoother than oil; but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death, her steps take hold on hell: let not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths. For she has cast down many wounded: yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.” Prov. v. 7. Read these chapters, and in connection with them, Job xx. 11 — 14. 1 Cor. vi. 15 — 20. 1 Thess. iv. 2 — 5. Heb. xiii. 4. Rev. xxi. 8.

There is also another form which the corruption of our nature assumes, and which the apostle calls “the deceitfulness of sin.” “Exhort one another daily, lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.” Heb. iii. 13. Deceit is not only one of the characteristics of sin, but is its most dangerous one, and none are so much in danger of being imposed upon by it as the young; nor they at any period of their life, so much as when just entering upon it. You have never perhaps looked upon it sufficiently under this character of deceit. You may have dwelt upon its exceeding sinfulness, but its deceptiveness has escaped you. Yet this is what you have chiefly to guard against. It is a most cunning and artful foe. Observe what pains it takes to disguise itself, and conceal its hideous nature. It does not appear in its own proper and genuine dress, nor call itself by its own proper name. It puts the mask of virtue upon the face of vice, and wraps itself in the cloak of dissimulation, by calling sins virtues, and virtues sins: thus — excess and intemperance are called a social disposition and good fellowship: prodigality is liberality; pride and resentment, honor, spirit, and dignity; licentious levity, innocent liberty and cheerfulness; lying artifice, skill in business; sordid avarice, frugality. So in the opposite treatment of virtue, it endeavors to degrade this into vice. True religion is sour puritanisra, hypocritical cant; tenderness of conscience, narrowness of mind; zeal for truth, bigotry. Now, my young friends, do not be imposed upon by such shallow artifices as these: recognize in such attempts, a wicked and daring attempt to confound all moral distinctions; and which must, of course, bring upon itself the woe denounced against those ‘’ who call evil good, and good evil.” Disdain this cajolery, this attempt to impose upon your understanding by merely changing the names of things, while the things themselves remain the same. Consider not only that your moral nature, but your intellectual, is insulted by such a feeble effort to mislead it. Take it with you as a maxim of great importance to remember, and an evil to be avoided, — that the generality of men are more governed by words and names than by things, and never more so than on matters of moral good and evil. Endeavor on the contrary to be governed by things rather than names.

And then in tracing the deceitfulness of sin, mark the excuses it makes for itself — the insensible degrees by which it leads on the sinner in his course; first tempting to little gins — thus preparing him for greater ones; first urging only to single sins — afterwards soliciting a repetition; first asking for secret sins — soon emboldening him for open ones; first allowing him to sin in decent company — at length drawing him into the society of the notoriously wicked; first allowing him to blush — then making him to glory in his shame; first leaving him content to sin himself — then prompting him on to tempt others; first telling him that if he does not choose to go on, he can soon and easily retrace his steps — then cutting off his retreat bj involving him in such a complexity of transgression, that he feels it almost necessary to go forward, adding sin to sin; first telling him repentance is too soon, because his sins have hitherto been so trivial — then Buggesting it is too late, because they have been so great; first assuring him God is too lenient to notice his beginnings of sin — then declaring that he is too just to forgive his crimes — thus leading him into, and keeping him in, the path of transgression. Such is the true nature of sin — a horrid practical lie — a deadly deceit — the greatest imposture in the universe — the most destructive fraud ever perpetrated in the world’s history. And you, young men, are the selected victims of its wiles. The arch deceiver is more intent on you than on all else. There the siren sits on the rocks of that sea, which you are just entering, sending forth her dulcet but deadly strains, enrapturing you to your destruction — making you willing to be wrecked, and to die in the arms of this fatal enchantress.

Your inexperience endangers you. Life is an untrodden path. You are only just beginning to live; its difficulties, dangers, temptations, are all new to you. You are ignorant, to a considerable extent, of the machinations of Satan, the wiles of the world, and the devices of your own heart. You are ignorant of your own ignorance; and know not your own weakness and instability. You have hitherto been in some measure sheltered in private, now you are to be exposed in public. Forms of iniquity of which hitherto you were happily ignorant, will rise up with fascinating appearances in your path. Scenes never anticipated by you, and for which, therefore, you could make no special preparation, will open before you, and ere you are aware draw you by theii Kpecious attractions into temptation. Sudden assaults, and altogether new ones, will be made upon your principles before almost you can have time to buckle on your armor. And what will greatly increase the danger is, your own self-confidence, rashness, and impetuosity. You give yourselves credit, perhaps, for a degree of sagacity to detect, resolution to vanquish, and power to overcome evil, which you do not really possess. You rush in, where others, possessing more Jinowledge, caution, and experience, fear to tread; you advance boldly to a contest from which it would be your wisdom to retire; and you are ready to resent it as a disparagement of your strength of mind, purity of heart, and resoluteness of purpose, to hear a suspicion hinted that you are in danger; and are, therefore, likely to add another proof and example that “he who leaneth to his own understanding and trusteth his own heart, is a fool.’ Show me a young man setting out in life with high notions of his own sagacity, virtue, resoluteness of will and inflexibility of purpose, and there without a prophet’s inspiration, I can foretel will be a sad illustration of the Scripture which declares that,” Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.’’

III. Then there are dangers from the corrwpt state of society. With such hearts as yours, there is in the best state of public morals, wickedness enough to constitute just ground for alarm and for watchfulness. It may not be that your country is worse than all others, or your times more profligate — I think they are not — but it is enough to know that the aboundings of iniquity, and the overflowings of ungodliness, are such as to make all who have any regard for youthful purity afraid. The undoubted fact of the growing prevalence of infidelity in its most seductive forms — the multiplication, as by a fresh inspiration of the wisdom from beneath, t)f all kinds of sinful indulgence — the spreading desecration of the

Sabbath — the endless new stimulants to worldly pleasure — the demoralized state of the public press — the new and ostentatious zeal and spread of Popery — all combine to load the moral atmosphere with the pestilence that walketh in darkness, and to send forth the destruction that wasteth at noonday. Never were there so many malign influences combining and conspiring against the religion and virtue of our young men as now; and never was it more necessary for them to be aroused to a sense of their danger, and to be put upon their guard.

Young men, the world is full of temptations: and its imhabitants are divided between the tempters and the tempted. Buckle on your armor for you will need it — the helmet — the breast-plate — the greaves — the shield. The enemies are lurking around — the ambush is laid — the aim is taken — the arrow is fitted to the string — the bow is bent. Beware; there are evil companions to be avoided. What saith the Scripture, The companion of fools shall be destroyed; I repeat what I have said, the workhouse, the lunatic asylum, the prison, the hulks, the convict ship, the gallows, the bottomless pit, — all, all, attest the truth of this, by the millions they have swallowed up in the jaws of destruction. Evil companionship has ruined more characters, more fortunes, more bodies, and more souls, than almost anything else that could be named. This is one of your first and most pressing dangers. It will meet you the next day after you have entered into life. The social instinct is in you, and it is strongest in youth. Man is a gregarious animal. He is made for society, and will have it. Beware, beware then, I implore you, to whom you give your company, and whose company you accept in return.* You must take your character, to a certain extent, from your company, as we:i as impart it to them. Youi companions will seek, at a time of life when your mind is in a state to receive the impression, to stamp their image upon you: and if they did not, you would insensibly, perhaps designedly, copy it. As waters, however pure when they issue from the spring, take the color of the soil through which they flow — as animals transported from one region to another lose something of their former habits, and degenerate by little and little, — so character assimilates to that which surrounds it. You may be forced to have bad coiiTiections — bad acquaintance — for perhaps you cannot avoid them — but you need not, and for your soul’s sake, and the sake of every thing dear to you, do not have bad co??ipanions. Men that scoff at religion — ridicule the godly — that make light of sin, and laugh at conscience — that are lewd in their actions, or obscene in their conversation — that are Sabbath-breakers, and lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God — that are extravagant in their habits and loose in their moral principles — these are the fools of whom Solomon speaks, that will bring their own destruction upon you, if you do not avoid them.

With much the same emphasis do I warn you against bad looks — the infidel and immoral publications of which such a turbid deluge is now flowing from the press, and depositing on the land a soil in which the seeds of all evil will grow with rank luxuriance. Infidelity and immorality have seized upon fiction and poetry, and are endeavoring to press into their service even science and the arts. But besides these, books that inflame the imagination and corrupt the taste, that even by their excitement unfit the mind for the sober realities of life, or that indispose it by everlasting laughter for all that is grave, serious, and dignified, are all to be avoided. In some resp’^^cts bad books are more mischievous than bad companions, since they are still more accessible, snd more constantly with us; can be more secretly consulted, and lodge their poison more abidingly in the imagination, the intellect and the heart. A bad book is it bad companion of the worst kind, and prepares for bad companions of all other kinds.

There are bad places also, which endanger you, as well as bad companions and bad books; where, if you have not already formed bad companionships, you are sure to find them. There b lhe tavern, the resort of drunkards — the brothel, the r’jsort of debauchees — and the theatre, the resort of both. All these are the avenues to ruin: the wide gates that open into the way of destruction. Many who have been kept out of the way of these places at home, on entering life have indulged in the first instance rather a fjrurient curiosity than an inclination to sin, and have Jiought they would go once to them, just to see what they ire, and whether there is all the harm that has been represented. Fatal curiosity. Oh that once — that first wrong itep — that slip ofi” from the summit of the inclined plane. The door of evil was opened, never again to be closed. (STever trust yourself even once in a place where you would Dot feel justified in going habitually. Never go even once, where you are sure you would not be followed with the approbation of your father, your conscience, and your God, and from which you would not be willing to go immediately to the judgment-seat of Christ. In illustration of the danger of a single visit to an anti- christian scene of amusement, I may here repeat the fact which I have given in another publication, of one of the primitive Christians, that for a long time resisted the importunities of a friend who invited him to witness the gladiatorial fights in the amphitheatre. At length he was suLdued, but determined that he would sit with his eyes closed, and thus quiet his own conscience, while he yielded to the solicitations of his friend. An unusual shout of applause which followed some display of skill or courage, excited his curiosity. He opened his eyes, he was interested, could not again close them — went again voluntarily — became a constant and eager attendant — abandoned Christianity, and died a pagan. How many more have been victims to one visit to forbidden places!

I mention also had habits — habits of extravagance in the way of apparel, ornaments, and pleasure-taking. A love of gay personal appearance, and sensual gratification, leads to expense; and as extravagance must have resources, if honesty and industry cannot supply them, dishonesty will create them. Be frugal, economical, prudent. Begin life with a determination to live within your income. Have no needless artificial wants — dispense with the cigar; it costs money, excites appetite for liquor, leads to evil company and evil places; and introduces other expenses and other habits. Common and simple as this habit seems to be, it does not always stop with itself. It is within my own knowledge that young men have involved themselves in debt and disgrace by this indulgence.

And then the, love, of jpleasure. Here again is danger, imminent danger. Do you remember the words of Solomon on this subject? “He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man.” Prov. xxi. 17. Never was there more occasion for sounding this in the ears of the public, than now. Men were never more bent upon pleasure, and never had the opportunities for enjoyment so much at command. It is a proof of human depravity that science and the arts never give to society a boon, but man’s wickedness turns it into a means of sinning against God. What an incentive to Sabbath-breaking has the Railway system proved! The sanc-^ tity of the Lord’s-day is in danger of being trampled down by the unholy foot of pleasure. Sunday excursion trains have become not only a snare and temptation to multitudes, but a source of annoyance to the quiet and godly inhabitanty of several places on the line of our railways. But it is not this only; invention is racked by those who cater for the public taste to find new pleasures, fresh gratification of sense and appetite. High and low, rich and poor, young and old, are all hungering and thirsting after pleasure, as if this world was given to us for no other purpose than to be a play-grouDd for its inhabitants; to which the multitude are rushing with the atheistic language which the apostle puts into the lips of those who deny the resurrection of the dead, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. Young men, we deny you not pleasure, but only say, let it be intellectual and spiritual, rather than sensual; individual and private, rather than social and public; economical, rather than expensive; an occasional recreation and not an habitual pursuit; and such as shall rather fit than disqualify you for the business of life. No man will less enjoy pleasure than he who lives for and upon it; and paradoxical as it may appear, it is true, — the way to cDJoy pleasure is not to love it to a passionate excess, but to partake it ever in moderation. Honey, and other luscious sweets, will do to taste, but not to live or feast upon. Cyprian beautifully remarks that,” The greatest pleasure is to have conquered pleasure.” I repeat the impressive proverb, ‘* He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man;” for it is an expensive taste which grows, like every other, by indulgence. It will make you poor in youth, poor in manhooa, poor in old age; and tills is a poverty wblch no one will pity, or be forward ta relieve.

Thirdly. — I will now lay before you the state of mind which befits you in this critical juncture of your history. I deliberately select that phrase, critical juncture. It is such whether you think so or not, — most critical; and something will be gained by this discourse, if it only bring you in sober seriousness to respond to the expression, and say, “Yes, J am now, I own it, feel it, and will reflect upon it, in the crisis of my temporal and eternal destiny.” Indeed this, I will confess, is my main object and my largest hope in these discourses. I have not touched upon controversy, as I have already intimated; nor is it my aim to suggest or supply topics of abstract thought or speculative inquiry: neither is it my purpose, if it were in my power, to gratify your curiosity by novelty, your imagination by taste, nor your love of dialectics by logic. Time is too short, life too important, to be all spent upon such things. I have other purposes and aims — I want to make you morally reflective on your life and condition — upon your character and conduct — upon your present and future means and plans of action, usefulness, and happiness. I am ambitious to check the levity and thoughtlessness with which so many are entering upon the most momentous period of their existence; and without producing an unnatural gravity or gloom, and without even extinguishing the joyousness, happiness, and buoyancy of youth — still to make you deeply feel how solemn and eventful is the period of entering life. Remember, that as the hour of reflection increases with your years, so the habit should strentthen also, and that if it should have awakened eolemn thoughtfulness, to consider that you were ahont to

64 THE YOUNG IJAn’s FRIEND.

enter life, it should excite no less apprebensiveness to consider that you have actually started in the eventful race. But still this thoughtfulness should embrace some specific subjects, determine in some active habits, and take some practical form and direction. Nothing can be less likely to be serviceable to you than a dreamy pensiveness — a moody and morbid imaginativeness — a disposition to speculate upon the probabilities of life — and to spend that time in creating suppositious conditions, which should be employed in meetino- the real ones. The thouo-htfulncss that I inculcate is not that which supplants action, but prepares for it, incites to it, and guides in safety through it.

I will now take up, and place before you, the only special direction which the apostle Paul lays down for the guidance of your conduct, “Young men exhort to be sober-minded.” The very injunction supposes that this is a state of mind not only peculiarly necessary for young men, but in which they are usually deficient. Now do not be alarmed at the expression, and” recoil from it as from something which could come only from, and is suitable only to old time-worn people, whose feelings are dried up into a kind of cold and stifiened prudence, which they wish to have reputed as wisdom; persons who having sufiered the extinction of all vivacity in themselves, envy the young for possessing what they have lost. A dull, heavy, spiritless, formal, and calculating thing; almost mechanical in all pursuits and interests; the type of a persoUj narrow in his notions, plodding in his operations, gloomy in his aspect, and placed wholly out of sympathy with everything partaking of ardor, sensibility, adventure, and enthusiasm, and at- the same time taking great credit to himself for all this. No; we may be quite sire that Paul’s

1!;NTERING LIFE. 55

sober-minded young men,’ were not to be examples of a sapient formality, of a creeping prudence, of extinguished passions, of a cold aversion to animated interest,^ — in short, not examples of the negation of everything that is really graceful and excellent in youth.”*

What then did he mean? What is sobriety of mind? The predominance of true religion and sound reason over vice and folly — temper and fancy — imagination and passion- — absurdity and extravagance. It is, in short, the mastery, by judgment, of the imagination, which is so apt to master the young man. Imagination, in the minority of reason, is the regent of the soul. Almost every thing is looked at, judged of, and ruled by, this mis-calculating faculty, which is rendered more dangerous by the ardor of passion. Things thus seen through a wrons: medium are distorted and discolored. Evils and dangers which to other eyes appear in all their magnitude of mischief, appear to the young, if indeed they appear at all, reduced to almost invisible spots; while little things on the side of good, are swelled out of all proportion, and adorned with the brightest hues with which fancy can invest them. Hope, untutored and unchecked by knowledge of the world and experience, is ever building castles in the air, and treating as certainties, what all besides perceive to be absolute improbabilities. Now cobriety of mind is reason attaining to its majority, sanctified by religion, ascending the throne of the soul to take the sceptre out of the hand of imagination. It means a capability of forming a right estimate of things as they really are. This, young men, is what you need, but of which persons of your age are often lamentably destitute.

But I will select one or two subjects which sobriety of

* Lectures by John Foster on Sober-mindedneics.

mind will especially bring under consideration, and of which it will lead you to form correct ideas.

—It will above all things lead you to a serious and devout consideration of the supreme end of life, I say tha supreme the chief end of human existence; since there are many subordinate ones arising out of our numerous and complex relations. Pause and ponder this question then, “What is the supreme end of existence?” Mark well the subject; it is not what are all the ends of existence, but what is the supreme end — life’s great business — the one thing needful, which being accomplished, whatever else we have missed, we still have not lived in vain; but which not having secured, we have lived in vain, gain whatever else we may. What is it I say? Your errand, your object? Surely, surely, if anything be worthy of the attention of a living, rational creature, it must be the object of life: and if at any time, at the beginning of life. Proceed not another hour — take up no plan, no purpose, no pursuit, till you have settled the question, ^’ What is the supreme end of life .^” Whatever it be it must combine all the following characteristics, — it must be something lawful, which God and your conscience approve — something appropriate to your character and circumstances, and to all the changing scenes of life — something attainable — something worthy your existence — something adapted to satisfy the desires of an immortal mind, and make you contented and happy — something which shall aid rather than hinder you in accomplishing all the subordinate ends of existence — something which shall combine your present with your everlasting destiny — something, in short, which God himself has fixed upon and proposed to you, as His supreme end in your creation. Is not this true? Must not the great end combine all these characteristics 1 Answer me. Must it not? “What then, I ask, can do this hut true religion? And this does. Here, then, is the great end of life — that religion which leads to the salvation of the immortal soul, — to glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life. “Compared with this, the objects of earthly ambition, which engage the attention and engross the affections of many in public life, are all vain, empty, and unprofitable. The eager strifes and ephemeral victories of political leaders; the feverish dreams of the wealthy capitalist and the commercial adventurer, seem little better than toys and baubles. The sportive swarms of insects floating in the sun-beams of a summer evening, appear to be a fit emblem of our vast cities and their busy crowds.” Believe, then, that the only supreme end worth living for, is an end which shall endure, an end which can never perish. Don’t squander so precious a boon as life upon secondary objects. Throw not away your immortal soul, — a jewel compared with which “the Mountain of Light,” the noblest production of the diamond mines, and the richest trophy of our oriental conquests, is a thing of nought, — upon the poor perishing objects of an earthly ambition.

Sobriety of mind will lead you also to consider the shortness and uncertainty of life, and the necessity of being ever prepared to surrender the precious gift; and prepared by having secured that which is of the highest importance. The man who has achieved the chief end, is prepared at any moment to give up in death the subordinate ends; while he who has sought only the subordinate ones, is never ready to give them up. He who has true piety, however young he may die, has effectually accomplished the chief purpose of his creation; while he who neglects religion, whatever of rank, wealth, honor, or even earthly usefulness, he may have acquired, and however long he may live to enjoy them, has missed the chief end of his being; and if he were aware of his folly, and confessed it, would say his life had been a lost adventure.

Equally true is it, that such a state of mind requires the adoption of the principles necessary to secure the end of life — in other words, true religion. A strong habitual faith in the Bible — in God — in Christ — in Providence — in judgment — in heaven and hell. Faith not only expresses itself in worship, in religious emotions, in zeal, in alms-deeds, but in enlightened and tender conscientiousness both towards God and man, and in a systematic and strong restraint upon the passions, fancy, temper, and appetites.

In entering, then, upon life, take religion with you. This will ensure you the protection of omnipotence; the guidance of omniscience; the companionship of omnipresence; the supplies of all-sufficiency. It will fill your intellect with the thoughts of God’s own mind, and your soul with the joy of God’s own heart, and thus furnish you at once with the supreme truth and the chief good. It will set before you the most perfect examples and the strongest motives to the practice of holiness and virtue. It will add the sanctity of the Christain to the virtue of the moralist, and mingle its own heavenly pleasures with the pure delights of earth. It will prepare you either for success or failure in business, and preserve you equally from the snares of prosperity and the withering blasts of adversity. It will be your nurse in sickness, your companion in solitude, and your preserver amidst the corruptions of society. It will be your shield against the temptations to sin, and the insiduous attacks of infidelity end false philosophy. It will go with you across the sea, and dwell with you in a foreign land, if called by Providence to leave your native country, or make you honorable and useful members of the community, if you remain at home. It will be the guide of your youth, the protector of your mediaeval life, and the prop of your old age. It will prepare you for early death, or for a multitude of years. It will smooth the pillow of death, by giving you immortal hopes amidst the dissolution of nature — will rise with you from the grave in that day when death shall be swallowed up in victory, and having put you in possession of glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life, shall dwell in your soul forever, as the chief element of your heavenly and immortal felicity.

But still I would not forget that there are things on earth, to be attended to as well as thino;s in heaven: and religion, as we have already said, neither detaches you from them nor unfits you for them: and next to this due regard to the claims of God, and as a part of them, industry and diligence in business are indispensable. Honesty to your employers requires this. You have contracted with them for so much stipend, to give them your time, the faculties of your mind, and the organs and members of your body. That man who does not serve his employer to the best of his ability, is to all intents and purposes a thief, not by robbing his master’s goods, but his time; and I would give nothing for his moral principle who can defraud his employer even of this. It is not, however, merely in this light that I speak now of industry, but as your own safeguard:

“For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.”

Our idle days are his busy ones. An indolent young man invites temptation, and will soon become a prey to it. Indolence unmans the faculties, impairs and debilitates the

GC THE YOUXO man’s FRIEND.

whole intellectual system. One way or other, be always employed. An idle man is the most miserable of all God’s creatures; a contradiction to nature, where nothing is at rest. Among all other habits that you form, next to religion, the most valuable acquisition is a habit of activity. This must be got in youth, or never. Keep the ethereal fire of your soul alive and glowing by action. The diligent man is the protected man. Temptation comes and addresses him, but he is pre-occupied; he says, “I am too busy to attend to you.” Not only have occupation, but love it. Let your mind take a pleasure and a pride in its own action. Nature, it is said, abhors a vacuum, and if nature does not, you should.

Fourthly: — Let me now lay before you a few opposite extremes which in passing through life, it is necessary you should avoid; and with which, when just entering upon it, you should be intimately acquainted.

Avoid, then, on the one hand, a depressing solicitude, and on the other, an utter carelessness and lethargic indiflPerence about the future — a disposition to distress the mind by the question, ‘* How am I to get on .^” or in the opposite extreme, a total destitution of all forethought, or care about the matter. The former is not only a distrust of Providence, but it defeats its own ends, by wasting those energies of mind in useless care, which should be employed in preparatory productive action: while the latter casts away that partial pre -science which is given to us for wise and gracious purposes. Be hopeful, but not sanguine; moderate, but not indififerent. Let your expectations be sufficiently high to encourage exertion, but not so extravagant as to bewilder them.

Equally to be avoided, as connected with this, is inordinate ambition to rise in life, and the opposite extreme of that low and creeping satisfaction with thinojs as they are, which is rather the result of an indolent and abject mind, than of a contented one. The determination by any and by all mean? to get on, and the lazy disposition to use none, are equi-distant from moral excellence. Determine to do all that skill, industry, frugality, and honorable principle can accomplish in the way of advancement, and nothing more. Set out in life thoroughly convinced of the truth of the apostolic declaration, “They that will be rich, fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil, which while some coveted after, they have pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” Young men, guard against this low, sordid, mischievous appetite — this coveting of wealth for its own sake: and which is determined to get it — if by fair means, well, if not by foul means. Begin your career of honest and honorable industry, with the poet’s prophetic, sarcastic aphorism, before your eyes,

“That loudest laugh of hell, the pride of dying rich.”

Guard against the self-diffidence, distrust, and despondency, which would lead you to form too low an opinion of your own capability and resources, and the complacent self-reliance, confidence, and canceit, which would lead you to think you can do every thing. While you do not lean altogether upon your own understanding, and trust implicitly to your own heart, remember they can both do something for you, and are both to be employed. Start upon the journey of life with the conviction that you can, with God’s help and blessing do something — yea, much for yourself. Have fiith in God first of all — and next to this, have faith in yourselves as God-sustained. Enter into the apostle’s words — catch their spirit — imitate their union of personal activity, and confidence, and divine dependence, “Through Christ strengthcnino me I can do all thino-s.”

Take heed against flexibility of principle, purpose, and character, in reference to what is right, and obstinate perseverance in what is wrong. Be master of yourself. Have a will of your own. Be governed by your own convictions Knowing what is right, do it, though you stand alone, and though the world laugh in a chorus. Possess a due degree of moral courage, which while it leaves you in possession of a true shame of doing what is wrong, shall extinguish all false shame of doing what is right. It is a noble sight to behold a young man stand, with his back against the wall of truth, and then with the shield of faith, repel the arrows of a multitude of assailants. Be an oak, not an osier. Let it be seen that you can resist the force of persuasion — the influence of oratory — the contagion of sympathy with numbers — the ridicule of the witty — and the sarcasms of the scornful. It is a great, and a good, and a glorious thing, to be able in some circumstances to say, “No;” and to stand by it. On the other hand, it is no less great, and good, and glorious, to say, “Yes, I am wrong,” when charged with an error, and convinced that we have committed one. An obstinate perseverance in a bad course, to avoid the shame and humiliation of confessing that we are wrong, is neither dignity nor greatness of mind, but stubborn imbecility; the obstinacy of a brute — under the direction not so much of the reason, as the will, of a man.

Avoid a total indiflference to the good opinion of others, and equally a craving after admiration and applause. Seek to be approved rather than to be admired. Covet the esteem of the wise and the good; but do not hunger after the indiscriminate praise of any and every one. Rather seek to be excellent, than desire to be thought so. To wish, however, to stand well with those whose praise is virtuous, is lawful; but to be ever anxious for the admiration of others is contemptible. The former is itself an exercise of virtue, the other an offering at the shrine of vanity. Guard against this vanity, it will make you far more solicitous about praise than principle, and make you willing to sacrifice the one for the other.

Avoid the extremes of credulity and suspicion in reference to mankind, of trusting every body, as if all were worthy of your confidence, and of trusting nobody, as if all were knaves. Be cautious whom you trust, but do not suppose that every one will betray you. It is well to be reserved, but not to be suspicious — to be prudent, but not misanthropic. On the other hand, as the danger of the young lies rather in being too frank, open and ingenuous, than too retiring and exclusive, study well the character of every, or any one, before you give them your confidence.

Fifthly. — Perhaps I cannot do better than add to all I have said, a few maxims, which may be considered as condensing some parts of the substance of this sermon, and which, as most easily remembered, may be of some service to you in your progress through life.

Your future history and character will be in great measure of your own making — therefore pause and consider what you will make yourself.

What you would be in future, that begin to be at once for the future is not at a great distance, but close at hand; the moment next to the present is the future; and the nex< action helps to make the future character.

“While you consult your friends on every important step, which is at once your duty and your privilege, rely less upon them than upon yourself; and ever combine self-reliance with dependence upon God, whose assistance and blessing come in the way of your own industry.

If setting out in life in the possession of property, let your dependence for success after all, be less upon this, than upon industry. Industry creates capital, but capital to begin with, has in many cases impaired industry and made a man careless and improvident.]

Consider the importance of the first wrong step. That first leads to many others, and may be more easily avoided than every one that follows.

True religion, which means the habitual fear of God and sin, is your best friend for both worlds; multitudes owe their all to it; and multitudes more that have been ruined by vice, folly, and extravagance, would have been saved from all this, had they lived in the fear of God.

They who would live without religion would not die without it; but to enjoy its comforts in death, we must submit to its influence in life; and they who would have it in life, should seek it in youth.

The perfection of human character consists of piety, prudence, and knowledge. Make that noble trial your own.

Whatever specious arguments infidelity may put forth in defence of itself, and whatever objections it may bring against Christianity, hold fast the Bible till the infidel can furnish you a more abundant evidence of truth — a better rule of life — a more copious source of consolation — a surer ground of hope — and a more certain and glorious prospect of immortality. And remember that spiritual religion is a better defence against the seductions of infidelity and false philosophy than the most powerful or subtle logic.

Enter upon life as you would wish to retire from it, and spend time on earth as you would wish to spend eternity in heaven.

I now leave the subject for your most devout and serious reflection. Entering into life! How weighty the phrase — how momentous the consideration — how solemn the anticipation! A hundred million perhaps of your fellow-creatures are at this moment like you entering into life. What an infinity of weal and woe is bound up in the history of that vast aggregate of human beings. But this, all this, is of less consequence to you than that one life on which you are entering. For in the history of our world — in the convulsions of nations — in the revolutions of empires — in the stream of universal history — yea, in the chronicles of all other worlds than your own — there is less to affect your happiness, than in that one life which is before you. You are in life — you cannot go back — you must go on. Whether you shall exist or not, is not left to your option, it is a question settled — you are in being, never, no never, to go out of it. What you have to determine is — and oh! what a determination — How existence shall be spent, and whether it shall be an infinite and eternal blessing, or an infinite and eternal curse. In view of such a career, let me, with an importunity which words are too meaningless to express, beseech you to take up the language of the text, as the rule of your conduct, — “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.”