Silent Times

357magnum · #21 30th October 2009, 01:59 PM

Silent Times
by J.R. Miller, 1886

THE HOME CONVERSATION

Few things are more important in a home, than its conversation - yet there are few things to which less deliberate thought is given. We take great pains to have our house well-furnished. We select our carpets and pictures with the utmost care. We send our children to school that they may become intelligent. We strive to bring into our homes, the best conditions of happiness. But how often is the speech of the household left untrained and undisciplined?

The good we might do in our homes with our tongues, if we would use them to the limit of their capacity of cheer and helpfulness, it is simply impossible to state. That in most homes the best possible results from the gift of speech are not attained, is very evident. Why should so much power for blessing be wasted? Especially why should we ever pervert these gifts, and use our tongues to do evil, to give pain, to scatter seeds of bitterness? It is a sad thing when a child is born dumb; but it were better far to be born dumb, and never to have the gift of speech - than, having that gift, to employ it in speaking only sharp, unloving, or angry words.

While in all places and at all times our words should be well chosen, and should be full of the pure and gentle spirit of Christ - there are many reasons why the home conversation, pre-eminently, should be loving. Home is the place for warmth and tenderness: it should be made the brightest and sweetest spot on earth, to those who dwell within its walls. We should all carry there our very best moods, tempers, and dispositions. Especially by our speech should we seek to contribute to the enrichment of the home life, helping to make it elevating and refining, and in every way ennobling in its influence.

Home should inspire every tongue to speak its most loving words - yet there is in many families, a great dearth of kind speech. In some cases, there is no conversation at all worthy of the name; there are no affectionate greetings in the morning, or hearty good-nights at parting when the evening closes; the meals are eaten in silence; there are no bright fireside chats over the events and incidents of the day. A stranger might mistake the home for a deaf-and-dumb institution, or for a hotel where strangers were together only for a passing night. In other cases - it would be even better if silence did reign - for there are words of miserable strife and shameful quarreling heard from day to day!

Husband and wife, who vowed at the marriage-altar to cherish each other until death, keep up an incessant petty strife of words!

Parents, who are commanded in the Holy Word not to provoke their children to wrath, lest they be discouraged, but to bring them up in the nurture of the Lord, scarcely ever speak to them gently and in tenderness. They seem to imagine that they are not governing their children, unless they are perpetually scolding them. They fly into a rage against them at the smallest irritation. They issue their commands to them in words and tones which would better suit the despot of a petty savage tribe, than the head of a Christian household. It is not strange, that, under such "nurture," the children, instead of dwelling together in unity, with loving speech - only wrangle and quarrel, speaking only bitter words in their interactions with one another.

That there are many homes of just this type, it is idle to deny. That prayer is offered morning and evening in some of these families, only makes the truth the sadder; for it is mockery for the members of a household to rise together from their knees after morning devotion, only to begin another day of strife and bitterness!

Nothing in the home life needs to be more carefully watched and more diligently cultivated, than the conversation; it should be imbued with the spirit of love. No bitter word should ever be spoken!

The talk of husband and wife, in their companionship together, should always be tender. Anger in word, or even in tone - should never be allowed! Chiding and fault-finding should never be permitted to mar the sacredness of their speech! The warmth and tenderness of their hearts, should flow out in every word that they utter to each other. As parents, too, in their interaction with their children, they should never speak - but in words of Christ-like gentleness. It is a fatal mistake to suppose that children's lives can grow up into beauty - an atmosphere of strife! Harsh, angry words are to their sensitive souls - what frosts are to the delicate flowers! To bring them up in the nurture of the Lord, is to bring them up as Christ himself would do; and surely that would be with infinite tenderness. It is impossible to estimate the blessed influence of loving speech, day after day and month after month - it is like the falling of warm spring rain and sunshine on the garden. Beauty and sweetness of character will issue from such a home.

But home conversation needs more than love, to give it its best influence: it ought to be enriched by thought. The Savior's warning against idle words should be remembered. Every wise-hearted parent will seek to train his household to converse on subjects which will yield instruction, or tend toward spiritual and moral refinement. The table affords an excellent opportunity for this kind of education. Three times each day the family gathers there; it is a place for cheerfulness. Simply on the grounds of health, meals should never be eaten in silence. Bright, cheerful conversation is an excellent sauce, and a prime aid to digestion. If it prolongs the meal, and thus appears to take too much time out of the busy day - t will, in the end, add to the years by increased healthfulness and lengthened life. In any case, however, something is due to spiritual and moral refinement, and still more is due to the culture of one's home life.

The table should be made the center of the social life of the household. There, all should appear at their best and brightest; gloom should be banished. The conversation should be sprightly and sparkling; it should consist of something besides dull and threadbare commonplaces. The idle gossip of the street is not a worthy theme for such hallowed moments. The conversation of the table should be of a kind to interest all the members of the family; hence it should vary to suit the age and intelligence of those who form the family circle. The events and occurrences of each day, may with profit be spoken of and discussed; and now that the daily newspaper contains so full and faithful a summary of the world's doings and happenings, this is easy. Each one may mention the event which has specially impressed him in reading or in discussion without. Bits of refined humor should always be welcome, and all wearisome recital and dull, uninteresting discussion, should be avoided.

Table-talk may be enriched, and at the same time the education of all the members of the family may be advanced, by bringing out at least one new fact at each meal, to be added to the common fund of knowledge. Suppose there are two or three children at the table, varying in their ages from five to twelve. Let the father or the mother have some particular subject to introduce during the meal, which will be both interesting and profitable to the younger members of the family. It may be some historical incident, or some scientific fact, or an event in the life of some distinguished man. The subject should not be above the capacity of the younger people, for whose special benefit it is introduced, nor should the conversation be over-weighted by attempting too much at one time.

One single fact clearly presented, and firmly impressed so as to be remembered, is better than whole chapters of information poured out in a confused jargon on minds, that tomorrow cannot recall any part of it. A little thought will show the rich benefits of a system like this, if faithfully followed through a series of years. If but one fact is presented at every meal, there will be a thousand things taught to the children in a year! If the subjects are wisely chosen, the fund of knowledge communicated in this way will be of no inconsiderable value. A whole system of education lies in this suggestion; for, besides the communication of important knowledge, the habit of mental activity is stimulated, interest is awakened in lines of study and research which may afterwards be followed out, tastes are improved, while the effect upon the family life is elevating and refining!

It may is objected that such a system of table-talk could not be conducted without much thought, study, and preparation on the part of parents. But if the habit once were formed, and the plan properly introduced, it would be found comparatively easy for parents of ordinary intelligence to maintain it. Books are now prepared in great numbers, giving important facts in small compass. Then, there are encyclopedias and dictionaries of various kinds. The newspapers contain every week paragraphs and articles of great value in such a course. A wise use of scissors and paste will keep scrap-books well filled with materials which can readily be made available. It will be necessary to think and plan for such a system, to choose the topics in advance, and to become familiar with the facts. This work might be shared by both parents, and thus be easy for both. That it will cost time and thought and labor ought not to be an objection, for is it not worth almost any cost to secure the benefits and advantages which would result from such a system of home instruction?

These are only hints of the almost infinite possibilities of good which lie in the home conversation. That so little is realized in most cases, when so much is possible - is one of the saddest things about our current life. It may be that these suggestions shall stimulate in some families, at least - an earnest search after something better than they have yet found in their desultory and aimless conversational habits. Surely there should be no home in which, amid all the light talk that flies from busy tongues, time is not found every day in which to say at least one word that shall be instructive, suggestive, elevating, or at least, in some way, helpful.

357magnum · #22 30th October 2009, 02:01 PM

Silent Times
by J.R. Miller, 1886

A BIBLE PORTRAIT OF CHRISTIAN MOTHERHOOD

"When Elkanah and all his household went up to make the annual sacrifice and his vow offering to the Lord, Hannah did not go and explained to her husband, 'After the child is weaned, I'll take him to appear in the Lord's presence and to stay there permanently.' Her husband Elkanah replied, 'Do what you think is best, and stay here until you have weaned him. May the Lord confirm your word.' So Hannah stayed there and nursed her son until she weaned him." 1 Samuel 1:21-23

It is the picture of a mother of the olden times, that is before us. The story of Hannah is invested with rare interest. It is one of those narratives whose charm is their unadorned simplicity. Though living so long since, when the world was so young - this mother stands yet, in the radiant spirit of her life - in the clearness of her faith, in the devotion of her motherhood, as a model for Christian mothers in these newest ages. There are some things that grow old and out of date - but motherhood does not. It is ever the same in its duties, its responsibilities, its sacred privileges, and its possibilities of influence. The old picture is new and fresh, therefore, in every age, to every true-hearted mother who looks upon it.

For one thing, Hannah, as a mother, was enthusiastic. She was not one of those women who think children undesirable encumbrances. She did not consider herself, in her earlier married years, particularly fortunate in being free from the cares and responsibilities of motherhood. She believed that children were blessings from the Lord, that motherhood was the highest honor possible to a woman; and she sought, reverently and very earnestly, from God - the privilege of pressing a little child to her bosom, and calling it her own. This line in the ancient picture we must not overlook in these days, when children are not always regarded as blessings from the Lord, nor even always welcomed.

For another thing, when Hannah's child came, she considered it a part of her pious duty, to nurture and care for it. Instead, therefore, of going up to Shiloh to attend all the great feasts, as she had done before - she stayed at home for some time, to give personal attention to the little one that God had given her, and that was still too young to be taken with safety and comfort on such long journeys. No doubt she supposed that she was worshiping God just as acceptably in doing this, as if she had gone up to all the great religious meetings. And who will say that she was not right?

A mother's first obligations - are to her children; she can have no holier or more sacred duties than those which relate to them. No amount of public religious service will atone for neglect of these. She may run to social and missionary meetings, and abound in all kinds of charitable activities, and may do very much good among the poor, carrying blessings to many other homes, and being a blessing to other people's children, through the Sunday school or mission school; but if she fails, meanwhile, to care for her own children - she can scarcely be commended as a faithful Christian mother! She has overlooked her first and most sacred duties, while she gives her hand and heart to those that are but secondary to her.

Hannah's way evidently was the true one. A mother had better be missed in the church, and at the public meetings - than be missed in her own household. Some things must be crowded out of every earnest life - but the last thing to be crowded out of a mother's life, should be the faithful and loving care of her children. The preacher may urge that everyone should do something in the general work of the church, and may appeal for teachers for the Sunday school; but the mother herself must decide whether the Master wants her to take up any religious work outside her own home. For the work there-she surely is responsible; for that outside - she is not responsible until her responsibility to her children is well done, and she has time and strength for new duties.

Another thing about Hannah was, that she looked after her own baby. She did the nursing herself. She did not hire any kind of 'baby-sitter' - and then commit her tender child to her care, that she herself might have a "free foot" for parties and visits and operas, and social and religious duties. She was old-fashioned enough, to prefer to nurse her own child. She does not seem to have felt it any great personal deprivation, to be kept rather closely at home for a year or two on that account. She even appears to have thought it a high honor, and a distinguished privilege - to be a mother, and to do with her own hands - a mother's duties. And when we think what this child that she nursed became in after-years, what the outcome was of all her pains, self-denials and toils - it certainly looks as if Hannah was right!

It is not likely she ever regretted that she had missed a few parties and other social privileges - in order to nurse and care for Samuel in his tender infancy - when she saw her son in the prime and splendor of his power and usefulness. If anything even half so good comes ordinarily out of faithful mothering, there are certainly few occupations open to women, even in these 'advanced' nineteenth-century days, which will yield such satisfactory results in the end - as the wise and true bringing up of children. Many women are sighing for distinction in the professions, or as authors, or artists, or singers; but, after all - is there any distinction so noble, so honorable, so worthy, and so enduring - as that which a true mother wins when she has brought up a son who takes his place in the ranks of godly men?

Could Mary, the mother of Jesus, have found any mission, in any century, greater than that of nursing and caring for the holy child that was laid in her arms? Or, if that example be too high, could the mothers of Moses, of Samuel, of Augustine, of Washington, have done more for the world - f they had devoted themselves to art, or poetry, or music, or any kind of 'profession'?

Perhaps Hannah was right; and, if so, the old-fashioned motherhood is better than the new, and the mother herself is her own child's best nurse. A hired woman may be very skillful; but surely she cannot be the best one to mold the soul of the child, and awaken and draw out its latent powers and affections. The mother may, by employing such a substitute, be left free to pursue the fashionable round of dining and dressing, of amusement and social engagements; but meanwhile, what is becoming of the tender, immortal life at home in the nursery, thus left practically motherless, to be nurtured and trained by a hireling stranger? And besides, what becomes of the holy mission of motherhood, which the birth of every child lays upon her who gave it life?

A recent writer, referring to this subject, asks, "Is there any malpractice of office, like unto this? Our women crowd the churches, to draw the inspiration from religion for their daily duties, and then prove recreant to the first of all fidelities, the most solemn of all responsibilities! We hear fashionable young mothers boast that they are not tied down to their nurseries - but are free to meander in the old mirthful life, as though there were no shame to the soul of womanhood therein."

Such a boast is one of the saddest confessions a mother could make. The great need of this age, is mothers who will live with their own children, and throw over their tender lives all the mighty power of their own rich, warm, loving natures. If we can have a generation of Hannahs, we shall then have a generation of Samuels growing up under their wise, devoted nurture.

There is one other feature in this old-time mother that should not be overlooked. She nursed her child for the Lord. From the very first she looked upon him as God's child, not hers - and considered herself as only God's nurse, whose duty it was to bring up the child for a holy life and service. It is easy to see what a dignity and splendor this gave to the whole toilsome round of motherly tasks and duties, which the successive days brought to her hand. This was God's child that she was nursing, and she was bringing him up for the Lord's service in two worlds. Nothing ever seemed drudgery; no duty to her little one was hard or distasteful - with this thought ever glowing in her heart. Need any woman have loftier or more powerful inspiration for toil and self-forgetfulness, than this?

And is there any mother who may not have the same inspiration, as she goes through her round of commonplace nursery tasks? Was Samuel God's child, in any higher sense when Hannah was nursing him - than are the little ones that lie in the arms of thousands of mothers today? In every mother's ears, when a baby is laid in her bosom, there is spoken by the breath of the Lord the holy whisper, if she but had ears to hear the divine voice, "Take this child - and nurse it for Me!" God wants Christian mothers to bring up their children for pure and noble lives, and for holy missions. Every mother is, by the very lot of motherhood when it falls upon her, consecrated to the sacred service of nursing, molding, and training an infant life for God. Hannah understood this, and found her task full of glory. But how many, even among Christian mothers, fail to understand it, and, unsustained by a consciousness of the dignity and blessedness of their high calling, look upon its duties and self-denials - as painful tasks, a round of toilsome, wearisome drudgery?

It will be well worth while for every mother to sit down quietly beside Hannah, and try to learn her secret. It will change the humblest nursery into a holy sanctuary, and transform the commonest, lowliest duties of motherhood, into services as splendid as those the radiant angels perform before the Father's face.

357magnum · #23 30th October 2009, 02:03 PM

Silent Times
by J.R. Miller, 1886

SORROW IN CHRISTIAN HOMES

Sooner or later, sorrow comes to every home. No conditions of wealth or culture or social standing, or even of religion, can exclude it. When two young people come from the marriage-altar, and set up their new home, it seems to them that its joy never can be disturbed, that grief can never reach their hearts in that charmed spot. For a few years, perhaps, their fond dream remains unbroken. The flowers bloom into still softer beauty and richer fragrance; the music continues light and joyous, with no minor cords; the circle is unbroken; children grow up in the tender atmosphere, blessing the home with their love and lovableness; the household life flows on softly and smoothly, like a river, gathering in breadth and depth as it flows. In other homes, all about, there are sorrows, bereavements, but amid these desolations of the dreams of other households, this one remains untouched, like an oasis in the desert; but not forever does the exemption continue. There comes a day when the strange messenger of sorrow stands at the door, nor waits for bidding and welcome - but enters, and lays his withering hand on some sweet flower!

The first experience of grief is very sore - its suddenness and strangeness add to its terribleness. What seemed so impossible yesterday, has become a fearful reality today. The dear one whom we held so securely, as we thought that we never could lose her, is gone now, and no more answers to our call. It seems to us that we never can be comforted, that we never can enjoy life again, since the one who made for us so much of the gladness of life has been taken away.

The time of the first sorrow is to every life a most critical point, a time of great danger. The way is new and untried, one over which the feet have never passed before. At no other point, therefore, is wise and loving guidance more needed. Many lives are wrecked on the hidden reefs - and the low, dangerous rocks which skirt the shores of sorrow's sea. Many people find in grief - an enemy only, to whom they refuse to be reconciled, and with whom they contend in fierce strife, receiving only injury and harm to themselves in the unavailing conflict.

An impression prevails, that sorrow is in itself a blessing in its influence, that it always makes purer and holier and better - the lives that it touches; but this is not true. Sorrow has in itself no purifying efficacy, as some suppose, by which it removes from sinful lives their blemishes and stains. The same fire which refines the gold - destroys the flowers. Sorrow is a fire, which in God's hand is designed to purify the lives of his people, but which, unblessed, produces only desolation. It depends on the relation of the sufferer to Christ, as a friend or enemy; and on the reception given to grief, whether it leaves good or ill where it enters.

In a Christian home, where the love of Christ dwells and holds sway, sorrow should always leave a benediction. It should be received as God's own messenger; and we should welcome it, and listen for the divine message which it bears. For God's angels do not always come to us - as we are apt to imagine them coming, in radiant dress, with smiling face and gentle voice. Thus artists paint them thus - in their pictures. Thus we imagine them - in their ministries. We think of them as possessing rare and wondrous loveliness; and so, no doubt, they do as they appear before God, and serve in his presence. There is no unloveliness in any angel-face in heaven. No angel has features of sternness; but, as these celestial messengers come to earth on their ministries, they appear ofttimes in forms which appall, and fill the trembling heart with terror and alarm! Yet ofttimes it is when they come in these very forms - that they bring their sweet messages and their best blessings.

"All God's angels come to us disguised,
Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death,
One after other lift their frowning masks,
And we behold the seraph's face beneath,
All radiant with the glory and the calm
Of having looked upon the face of God."

Wherever God's messenger of sorrow is thus received in a Christian home, with welcome even amid tears and pain - it will leave a blessing of peace, and will make the home sweeter, tenderer, heavenlier. We speak of love as the atmosphere in which the home reaches its best development in the direction of happiness, as in summer warmth the flowers unfold their rarest beauty and sweetest fragrance; but really no home ever attains its highest blessedness and joy, and its fullest richness of life, until in some way, sorrow enters its door. Even the home love, like certain autumn fruits, does not ripen into its sweetest tenderness, until the frost of trial has touched it.

When a green log of wood is laid on the hearth on a winter evening, and the fire begins to play about the log - a strange, plaintive music comes from the wood. A poet would tell you, that, while the tree stood in the forest, the birds sat amid its branches, and sang there, and that the notes of their songs hid away in the tree. Then he would tell you that the music you now hear from the log as it burns, is this bird-minstrelsy, which has remained imprisoned in the wood until brought out by the hot flames. The poet's thought is only imaginary, but it well illustrates a truth concerning the life of a Christian home, which is worth pondering and remembering. In the sunny days of joy, the bird-notes of gladness are sung all about us, and sink away into our hearts, and hide there. The lessons, the influences, the tender impressions, the peace, and the beautiful things of quiet, happy, prosperous years, fall upon our lives, as the sunbeams and rain showers fall the fields and the long autumn and winter and early spring - and seem to be lost. There appears but little to show for so much absorption of brightness and blessing. Our lives do not appear to yield the measure of joy they should yield. Then the flames of trial are kindled; and, in the heat of suffering, the long-gathering and long-slumbering music is set free - and flows out!

Many of the world's best things have been born of affliction. The sweetest songs ever sung on earth - have been called out by suffering. The richest blessings that we enjoy - have come to us out of the fire. The good things we inherit from the past - are the purchase of suffering and sacrifice. Our redemption comes from Gethsemane and Calvary. We get heaven through Christ's tears and blood. Whatever is richest and most valuable in life anywhere, has been in the fire.

Our love for one another may be strong and true in the sunny days, but it never reaches its holiest and fullest expression until pain has touched our hearts, and called out the hidden treasures of affliction. Even the love of a mother for her child, deep and pure as it is, never reaches its full wondrousness of devotion and sacrifice - until the child suffers, and the mother bends over it in yearning and solicitude. The same is true of all the home loves - the best and divinest qualities in them come out only in the fires. The household which has endured sorrow in the true spirit of love and faith, emerges from it undestroyed, untarnished, and with purer, tenderer affections, with less of animosity, of selfishness, and earthliness. When husband and wife stand together beside their dead child, they are drawn to each other as never before; their common grief is purifying. Children which remain are dearer to parents, after one has been taken. Brothers and sisters grow more thoughtful and patient in their mutual fellowship, when the home circle has been broken. There is in an empty chair in a Christian home a wondrous power to soften the animosities of each, and refine all the affections and feelings. The cloud of grief which hangs over a household, like the summer cloud above the fields and gardens, leaves wondrous blessings.

Is it raining, little flower?
Be glad of rain.
Too much sun would wither you.
Twill shine again.
The sky is very black, tis true,
But just behind - it shines blue.

Are you weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain;
In sorrow, sweetest things will grow
As flowers in rain.
God watches, and you will have sun
When clouds their perfect work have done.

But how many we make sure of the benedictions which sorrow brings? Even the gospel is the savor of death to those who reject it; and sorrow, though it may be God's evangel, ofttimes comes and goes away again, leaving no heavenly gift. How must we treat this dark-robed messenger, if we would receive the heavenly blessings it bears in its hands? We must welcome it, even in our trembling and tears - as sent from God! We must believe that it comes from our Father, and that, coming from him, it is a messenger of love to us, bearing a true blessing to us, though it is a loss or a pain. We must ask for the message which God has sent us in the affliction, and listen to it as we would to a message of gladness. It has some mission to us, or some gift from heaven. Some golden fruit lies hidden in the rough husk! Some bit of gold in us, God designs to be set free from its dross - by this fire. There is some radiant height beyond this dark valley, to which he wants to lead us.

Christ himself accepted and endured with loving submission - the bitter sorrow of his cross, because he saw the joy set before him, which waited beyond the sorrow. In the same way, we should accept our griefs, because they are but the shaded gateways to peace and blessedness. If we cannot get through the gateways, we cannot get the radiant joys which wait beyond the sorrow. Not to be able to take from our Father's hand, the seed of pain, is to miss the fruits of blessing which can grow from no other sowing. If we are wise, we will give sorrow as cordial a welcome as joy; for it is from the same loving hand, and brings gifts as good and as golden.

We must remember, that it is in the home where Christ himself dwells - that sorrow unlocks its heavenly treasures. A Christless home receives none of them. Those who shut their doors on Christ, shut out all blessedness, and, when the lamps of earthly joy go out - are left in utter darkness! A wise forethought will make sure of the hopes and comforts, of a personal interest in Christ; and of having him as a guest in the sunny days, that, when the shadow of night falls - the stars of bright hope may shine out!

357magnum · #24 30th October 2009, 02:05 PM

Silent Times
by J.R. Miller, 1886

DEALING WITH OUR SINS

It takes courage to look our own sins in the face, and to deal with them as we would counsel another to do, if the sins were his. It was one of the old psalm-writers who said, "I thought on my ways." It is not likely, that even he found it an easy thing to do. It is usually very much harder to think on our own ways - than on other people's; most of us do quite enough of the latter. We keep a magnifying-glass to inspect our neighbor's life, a high-power microscope to hunt for specks in his character! But too often, we forget to use our glasses on ourselves, or, if we do, we reverse them, and thus minify every spot and imperfection! The Pharisee in the temple confessed a great many sins - but they were his neighbor's sins and the publican's sins; he made no confession of sin for himself.

Most of us are in the same danger. We like to think of our ways when they are good; it flatters our vanity - to be able to approve and commend ourselves. But, when our conduct has not been particularly satisfactory, we like to turn our back upon it, and solace ourselves meanwhile, by thinking on our neighbor's sinful ways. And here, strange to say, it seems to please many of us best - to find faults and blemishes in their lives and characters, which we point out to others. One of the last lessons of Christian charity which most of us learn - to rejoice with others in their attainments of Christian character, and to be pained and grieved when we find blemishes and stains in their lives.

But it is a brave thing for a man to say, "I will think upon my own ways," and to say it when he knows his ways have not been holy and right - but wrong. It is an excellent thing for us to turn our lenses in upon our own hearts, in order to see if our own ways are right. This should always be our first duty. We should take heed to ourselves, before we try to look after the mistakes of others, and point them out. There is only one person in all the world for whose ways any of us are really personally responsible, for whose life anyone will be required to give account - and that is one's self! Other people's wrong ways may pain us, and offend our sense of right; and it is our duty to do all we can, in the spirit of Christ, to lead our neighbors into better ways; but, after all, when we stand before God's judgment-seat, the only one person in the whole world for whom any of us will have to be judged - will be one's self. Certainly it is most important, then, that we give earnest heed to ourselves and our own ways, while in this world.

Retrospect has a strange power. As we look back upon our ways, they do not appear to us now, as they did when we were actually passing through them. Things that seemed hard and painful at the time, now, as we look back upon them, appear lovely and radiant. There are experiences in most lives, which at the time seemed to be sore calamities - but in the end prove rich blessings. Then, there is another class - things which appeared attractive and enjoyable at the time - which afterward look repulsive and abhorrent. This is true of all wrong actions, all deeds wrought under the influence of the evil passions. At the time, they give a thrill of pleasure; but when the emotion has passed, and the wrong-doer turns and looks back at what he has done - it seems horrible in his eyes. The retrospect fills him with disgust and loathing.

To look at one's ways when we have been wrong - is not by any means a pleasant thing to do. Such looks, if honest, will produce deep sorrow. It is well that it should be so - that regret should grow into sore pain, until it has burned into our hearts the lessons which we ought to learn from our follies and sins. But pain and regret should not be all. The Scriptures speak of the sorrow of the world, which works death. This is a false sorrow for sin, which passes away like the morning cloud or the early dew - leaving no impression, working no improvement; or the sorrow which ends only in despair. Godly sorrow is the pain for sins - which leads to repentance.

The prodigal in the far-off land thought on his ways, and, in his shame, hid his face in his hands, and wept bitter tears over the ruin he had made of his life. But he did more than weep; he arose and went straight home to his father. No matter how badly one has failed, the noble thing to do is, not to sit down and waste more years, in grieving over the lost years. Weeping in the darkness of despair, amends nothing. The only truly wise thing to do is to arise, and save what remains. Because ten hours out of the allotted twelve are lost - shall we sit down and waste the other two, in unavailing grief over the ten? Had we not better use the two that are left, in doing what we can to retrieve the consequences of our past folly?

"We have lost the battle," said Napoleon; "but," drawing his watch from his pocket, "it is only two o'clock, and we have time to fight and win another!" And the sun went down on his victorious army.

No young person, especially, should ever yield to despair; for in youth, there is yet too wide a margin to blot, with the confession of defeat and failure. Even old age, with a whole lifetime behind it wasted - is not hopeless in a world on which Christ's cross stood. A few moments of sincere penitence and true repentance, are enough in which to creep to Christ's feet, and find pardon. Divine mercy is so great, that no one need perish, though his sins be as scarlet.

Even though the life is so utterly wrecked, its nobility so destroyed, its powers so wasted - that on earth it can never be anything but a shattered ruin - it may still become radiant and beautiful in the blessed immortality which Christian faith reveals. Life does not end at the grave. Its path sweeps on into the eternal years, and there will be time enough then to retrieve all the wasted past. Someone speaks of heaven as the place where God makes over souls. Even lives wasted and marred on earth, turning to Christ only in life's old age - may find mercy, and in heaven's long, blessed day - be made over into grace and beauty.

But no wise and careful seaman will run his ship twice on the same rock or reef. Even a child will not be likely to put his hand into the flame, a second time. We should learn by experience in living, and should not repeat the same folly, mistake, or sin over and over. Every error we make should be marked, and never made again. Thus we should use our very failures as stepping-stones by which to climb to a higher, better life.

Nothing comes of thinking on our ways - if we do not turn from whatever we find to be wrong. Godly sorrow works repentance. A few tears amount to nothing - if one goes on tomorrow in the same old paths. Someone says, "The true science of blundering, consists in never making the same mistake twice." This rule applies to sins as well as to mistakes. The true science of living - is never to commit the same sin a second time.

But even this falls short. We are not saved by negatives. We can never go to heaven by merely turning from wrong ways. True repentance leads to Christ - and into his ways. It is the man who forsakes his wicked ways, and his wicked thoughts, and returns to the Lord - who is abundantly pardoned. When there is this kind of repentance, it does not matter how black the sin is. Even Christ does not undo the wrong past, and make that which has been done - as though it had never been done. It never can be made true - that the thief did not once steal. But grace may so make over a marred life, that, where the blemish was, some special beauty may appear.

"The oyster mends its shell with a pearl." Where the ugly wound was - there comes, with the healing, not a scar - but a pearl. The same is true in human souls when divine grace heals the wounds of sins. Sins that we truly repent of, become pearls in the character. It is the experience of all who grow into Christ-like nobleness, that many of the golden lines of their later lives, have been wrought out through their regrets and their repentings of wrong-doings.

Someone says, "The besetting sin may become the guardian angel. Yes, this sin that has sent me weary-hearted to bed, and desperate in heart to mourning work, can be conquered. I do not say annihilated - but, better than that, conquered - captured, and transfigured into a friend; so that I, at last, shall say, 'My temptation has become my strength; for to the very fight with it - I owe my growth in grace.'"

An old man sat thinking, one day, about his past, recounting to himself his mistakes and follies, and regretting them, wishing he had never committed them, and if there was some way of undoing them. He took his pen, and on a sheet of paper made a list of twenty things in his life of which he was ashamed, and was about to seize an imaginary sponge, and rub them all out of his biography. He was thinking how much more beautiful his character would have been at the close of his years - if these wrong things had never been committed. But to his amazement, as he thought of wiping out these evil things, he found, that, if there were any golden threads of beauty running through his life, which had been woven into the web by the regrets he had felt over his wrong-doings; and that, if he should wipe out these wrong acts, he would at the same time destroy the fairest lines of nobleness and worth in his present character. He learned in his meditation that out of his sins and follies - he had gotten all his best things - the painful regrets, the wise lessons, the true repentings, and the new life which followed.

There is a deep truth in this record of experience; it is, that even our mistakes and sins - if we leave them, and find our way to Christ - will be transmuted into growth and the upbuilding of character. "We can so deal with the past - that we can make it give up to us virtue and wisdom." "We can make wrong - the seed of right and righteousness; we can transmute error - into wisdom; we can make sorrow - bloom into a thousand forms, like fragrant flowers."

If we truly repent of our sins, then, where they grew with their thorns and poison seeds, there will be in our lives trees and plants of beauty with sweet flowers and rich fruits. Our very slips and falls - if we rise again, and, in lowly penitence and sincere return, creep to the feet of Christ - become new births to our souls. His tender grace heals the wounds our sins have made, and restores our lives to strength and beauty! But it must never be forgotten, that Christ alone can thus save us from our sins - and transmute their evil into good. This wondrous alchemy, exists only in the Savior's cross and blood. Left to itself, sin works death; but, brought to Christ, the poison is destroyed, and death is changed to life.

In every life, there are mistakes and sins. The holiest men do not live perfectly. The strongest are liable to fall in sudden and unexpected temptation. The wisest will commit grave errors and follies at some time. We should know well in such cases how to deal with our sins. They must not be simply excused, and left lying in the path behind us, while we hurry on; nor must they bring despair to our hearts as we sorrow over them; they must be sincerely and heartily repented of, and forgiveness for them sought at the feet of Him we have offended and grieved. Then we must rise from disaster and defeat - stronger, purer, and nobler through Christ, victorious over our own sins, and a conqueror over our own defeat!