Christian Missions 6
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2. I remind you of the advantages which you possess for the promotion of this cause. "Other men have labored, and you are entered," or about to enter, "upon their labors." You cannot be ignorant of your circumstances, nor unacquainted with your privileges. You live in an extraordinary era, and ought not to be behind your age. You must not be torpid while all around you is vitality, nor inactive amidst prevailing energy. A young person that has no sympathy with the public spirit of his time, no benevolent sensibilities, no yearnings of heart over the miseries of mankind, no missionary glow, no holy ambition to leave the world better than he found it, is one born out of due season; he is a relic of an age which we have no concern to remember, and is a dishonor to that in which he lives.
Concentrated in your possession are not only all the advantages for doing good which had come down to your parents—but all which they have prepared in addition. What a train of laborers have been in the field, and what a collection of implements have they raised with which to carry on the spiritual husbandry! By them the Missionary Society has been formed; ignorance instructed; apathy roused; objections answered; motives applied; zeal kindled; popular affection conciliated; funds raised; habits of liberality formed; missions formed; whole tribes converted; and now you have only to support that which others have set up; to keep in motion that which they have started; to maintain in public esteem that which is already a favorite.
You have the experience of your fathers to guide you; their example to stimulate you; their errors to warn you; their success to encourage you; and will soon have their monuments to admonish you. There are names so connected with the origin and history of this Institution as to have become most dear to the hearts of its friends, names which we trust will never be withdrawn from it, as long as any remain that bear them—we hope that the Bogues, the Wilkses, the Burders, the Waughs, the Hardcastles, and the Hankeys, of many generations, will be with it, and that the Society will go down to posterity as the heir-loom of their families; but if the descendants of those men whose memory will ever be precious should not inherit the zeal and the brightest honors of their sires, God's cause will not lack supporters—but assistance will come to it from other quarters.
3. The transmission of the missionary cause to posterity, so far as instrumentality is concerned, depends on those who are now rising into life. This is a most solemn reflection, and presents you with a view of your accountability, which is enough to make the stoutest heart to tremble. Your fathers received religion from their ancestors, and taught it to you; and you, receiving it from them, are to hand it forward to the next generation. As it respects personal religion, unless you cultivate it in your own heart, you will not, of course, be very likely to inculcate it upon those who are to come after you—and so also of missions to the heathen. Soon, very soon, this sacred cause must pass from the hands which now sustain it.
Another of the veteran band of those who planned the Society has fallen—he whose athletic frame rose like a tower of strength in the midst of us, as the emblem of his noble mind—and whose hoary head reflected upon us, as from a bright crown of righteousness, its holy beams; the venerable and venerated Waugh has fallen; his fascinating eloquence is hushed; his eye, where intelligence dwelt with benevolence, is closed; his pleasant wit, that played, as beautiful and as harmless as summer evening lightning, is quenched. He whose prayers raised us so near to the throne of grace, and whose appeals so warmed our hearts with love to man, is gone. Others are "just ready to depart;" the chariots of fire and horses of fire, which are to carry them to the skies, are advancing; may you find their mantle, when they shall have ascended to their seats of immortality. The missionary cause must soon be left as their legacy to you. Precious and solemn responsible will be the trust.
If the genius of civil and religious liberty were to confide to your keeping the great Charter of English freedom, and the Act of Toleration; and if you, by any lukewarmness, carelessness, or neglect, were to yield up those sacred deposits to the encroachments of the tyrant and the inquisitor, would you not be justly chargeable with all the enormous cruelty and degradation which, age after age, would soon accumulate upon posterity, as its generations came into existence only to sink under the iron yoke of slavery?
Would you not deserve all the execrations of the millions whom your criminal apathy would have thus doomed to thraldom? But a still more sacred cause is about to be committed to your hands, a cause which, so far as instrumentality is concerned, involves the intellectual and moral, the temporal and eternal destinies of the globe. By what idea shall I conceive, or by what language shall I set forth, the nature and extent of your accountability? You are most critically placed, between the past and the future; receiving the accumulated fruits, privileges, and advantages of all past ages, that all future ones may receive them through you. It is for you to send forward the stream of life, or to say, "Hitherto shall you go—but no farther."
Will you, can you, dare you put out by direct opposition, or allow to go out by neglect, that flame which is kindled to be the hope of all nations and all generations? The sacred fire upon the altar of Vesta was considered of such consequence to the prosperity of Rome, that the extinction of it was deemed a prognostic of the greatest calamities to the state; and the priestess, through whose lack of vigilance the mischief was occasioned, was subjected to the most cruel punishment. The fire that now burns on the altar of the missionary cause has infinitely more than all the importance which was fabulously attributed to the flame of Vesta; the British nation, the whole of Christendom, the church of God, and the universe itself, are interested in its preservation; and its extinction might be mourned with a groan as deep as that which Milton speaks of as having been uttered by Nature after the fall of man. Of this fire you are soon to be the appointed guardians—and if, through your neglect, it shall go out, the curses of ruined millions, confirmed and scaled by the frown of indignant heaven, await you.
And now, young people, I most solemnly and affectionately admonish you to come forward, if you have not; and to go forward, if you have, in this great and noble cause, which is your duty, your honor, and your happiness. How can you so well employ the ardor of youth, the energies of strength, the glow of health? Give the days, the aspirations, and the activities of the season of hope and of enterprise, to the service of God, and the interests of the world. "Now, now is the acceptable time." Begin life by appropriating a part of every year's income to the work of converting the heathen.
Lay the first fruits of your property on the altar of the Lord. Give your personal exertions, so far as you can do it without encroaching on that time which belongs to others, or impairing that blush of modesty which is your own ornament and beauty. But are there none of you, whose hearts being renewed by divine grace, and constrained by the love of Christ, whose compassion for immortal souls, being moved by the petition, "Come over and help us!" which is floated on the wings of every breeze, and borne on the crest of every wave, which touches the British shore, are fired with the ambition to make Christ known, where he has not been known before? Are there none willing, this day, to consecrate themselves to the work of a missionary? Shall war, shall commerce, shall science, never lift their voices in vain, when they ask for workers? Is hallowed ambition, aspiring to deeds of noble enterprise, extinct or dying in the church of God? Is not life short, time uncertain, death at hand, eternity about to disclose its realities? And are there none of you who, moved by these considerations, will seize the honor of employing the short period of your existence below, in the truly immortal work of converting earth, and peopling heaven with holy and happy beings?
Do you need the power of heart-stirring example? Let me refer you to Henry Martyn. Behold him, when the united wreaths of literary and scientific fame were still unwithered on his brow; when the road to advancement was opening to his eyes; when the ease, comforts, and elegances of life were within his reach, or ready to come at his bidding; surrendering all to bear the cross to distant lands, and plant the life-giving symbol amidst the scorched plains of Hindostan. But a costlier sacrifice still did he make, costlier than the attractions of his native soil, than the fond endearments of two sisters, to whom he stood related as the Lazarus to the family at Bethany; for one there was to whom, above all others upon earth, his heart was bound by the ties of virtuous love, and with whom it would have been little sacrifice even to leave the land of his birth; and yet even her did he give up, to go alone to the other side of the globe, for the love which he bore to Christ, and to the souls for whom Christ died. This is the loftiest instance of self-denial for the cause of the Redeemer, next to that of actual martyrdom, with which I am acquainted, and affords an instance of the true moral sublime, which has but few parallels.
Do you think he now regrets the sacrifices he made? O, no! Could he rise from his grave, lowly as his own meek and gentle spirit, and visit you in person this night, he would address you in language similar to this—"Holy and generous youth, the career of a faithful missionary is the high road to immortal renown. I regret not my decision to leave the land of my nativity, nor look back with regret upon the surrender of so many comforts for the cause of the Redeemer, short as was my course, for I now see that a year spent in India is equal to an age in England." Will no one reply, "Here, Lord, am I; send me?"
PARENTS, I now turn to you. How can we expect to see the ardor of missionary zeal in your children, unless proper means are employed by you to kindle and support it? If your sons and your daughters grow up without the fear of God, if they become mirthful and worldly, if they acquire a taste for the amusements of the world, if they become the companions of fools, we can neither expect nor wish them to be the agents of such a cause as this. It is only as they remember their Creator, live under the influence of decided piety, and cherish a deep concern about the salvation of their own souls, that anything can be looked for from them, in connection with the schemes of Christian benevolence. Let me, then, become the advocate of your children's souls, of your own comfort, of the permanence of our churches, and of the cause of missions, by entreating you to pay more attention to the religious education of your families. On this basis, in a considerable measure, rests our cause.
I do fear that this great and important branch of our duty is most criminally neglected, or very carelessly performed, in the present day. The culture of the heart is sacrificed to the culture of the mind, and to prepare their children to shine as people of the world, is far more the object of ambition with many professors of religion, than that they should reflect in the church the beauties of holiness. The education of our youth is radically defective where piety is not the first and main concern. But are not, with most parents, secular accomplishments everything—and character, especially pious character, nothing? The spirit of the world has made, and is still making, sad encroachments upon the spirit of piety. Who can wonder, when we look at the relaxed discipline, the fitful and irregular devotion, the neglected instruction, of some families, that the young people who are trained up there should prefer the concert, the mirthful party, or the theater—to the sermon, the prayer-meeting, or the committee room? I call you to pious education—to constant, anxious, and consistent effort, to train up your children in the fear, nurture, and admonition of the Lord. Then fan the spark of zeal in their bosoms; set them the example in your own conduct. What can be expected from those young people who never hear a word from the lips of their parents, nor see in them an action, which reminds them that there is such an institution in existence as the Missionary Society. Deep and indelible shame attaches to those who, in training up their children, do not endeavor to implant public spirit in their hearts.
Mothers, I charge it upon you to breathe a feeling of zeal and compassion into those minds which are opening their infant capacities, and spreading their budding energies to your influence. Fathers, I admonish you to train up your sons for this cause. Where did the Roman youth gain that love of their country, which burst forth into such a flame the moment they stepped onto the great theater of their country's glory? The daughter caught it from her mother, when she heard that mother talk of her husband, who was absent in the field or the camp; the son caught it when he saw his father return from the field of conflict, hang up the shield and sword with which he had fought the battles of the commonwealth, and receive the kiss of marital love upon his honorable scars. Ah! then did the youthful bosom acquire the feeling of patriotism, when the domestic circle heard of the glory of Rome, and the duty of every citizen to brighten and perpetuate its great and sacred name.
Domestic piety is the source of missionary zeal. And should God call you to make the honorable sacrifice of giving a son or a daughter to the cause of missions, withhold not, grudge not, the costly offering. Many years ago, when I formed an auxiliary society in my own congregation, and was receiving the names of the contributors, there came a youth of sixteen, who, upon being asked what he wished to contribute, modestly replied, "Myself!" I took him under my protection, watched him, taught him, and upon perceiving in him the seeds of piety and genius, was willing to encourage his views. But a difficulty was in his way; he was the oldest son of his mother, who had been lately left a widow, in narrow circumstances, to struggle for eight young children, of whom Joseph was her nearest and her strongest hope. Upon being consulted as to her willingness to part from a child so good, so promising, and likely so soon to be her support, "Let him go," she replied, "and God will provide for me and my babes; for who am I, that I should be thus honored to have a son a missionary to the heathen?" He went, and nobly fought, and nobly fell, on the plains of Hindostan, in conflict with the powers of darkness, and in his last moments exhibited a scene of Christian triumph, the glory of which has rarely been surpassed, except at the stake of the martyr.
Soon after this, another of the same family desired to follow the footsteps of his brother! What! another of her children? How did the widow act in this second instance? Just as she did in the first. "Let William follow Joseph," she exclaimed, in effect, "though it be to India, and an early grave." God has rewarded her confidence in a remarkable manner, and provided for herself and her children. And will any of you dare to lay an obstacle in the way of a child devoting himself to the cause of God? Shall worldly parents give up their children to be missionaries of mammon, of war, or of science, and we be unwilling to part from ours for God, for Christ, for the salvation of souls? What! when it is to gain for them, not the laurel of earthly fame—but the unfading crown of life and glory, which the hand of the Lord Jesus will bestow on every faithful laborer in his cause.
In CONCLUSION—let me direct your attention to the glorious outcomes and the final results of all our efforts—but to comprehend these, requires more than an angel's grasp of mind, and to foresee them, more than a prophet's range of vision. When I read the innumerable predictions which describe the future reign of Christ, and which have never yet been fulfilled by any events that have occurred; when I contemplate the sublime and mystic symbols by which approaching events are set forth, symbols which, though to me unintelligible, appear illuminated by some concealed yet rising luminary; when I consider the magnitude and extent of the work of human redemption, for the accomplishment of which the infinite God united to himself the nature of man, and effected the great sacrifice of the cross; when I see our world selected out of God's vast domains, as the theater on which the Deity will display all his glories to the admiration of the universe; when I behold Providence occupying thousands of years in accumulating means and instruments for the completion of some favorite design—when I recollect how many centuries this globe has been given up to the dominion of sin and Satan, notwithstanding the wisdom, goodness, and power of God; when to all this I add the prayers that have been presented, the exertions that have been made, and the anticipations that have been indulged, with a view to the moral renovation of mankind—I cannot but feel persuaded, "that there is a destiny in reserve for the children of men, compared with the glory of which, invisible though it be at present, and hid behind the clouds which envelope this dark and troubled scene, the brightest day that has yet shone upon the world is midnight, and the greatest splendor that has invested it but as the shadow of death."
I do not agree with some modern interpreters of prophecy, as to times or events connected with the millennium—but I do expect for our world, dark, guilty, and wretched as it yet is, a glory which will transcend the imagination of the most enraptured or enthusiastic interpreter of prophetic writ—a glory which shall correspond with the closing scenes of earth and time, and the introduction of the economy of heaven and eternity. What precise relation our exertions bear to that era I know not, nor am I anxious to know. Whether our system of organization be "the plant of renown," and is raised up itself to heal and bless the world, or whether it is only to bear seed which, when much that is now visible shall have perished, shall spring up, with less of human agency and more of that which is exclusively divine, it is not for me to determine. Or, to confine myself more closely to the figure of the text, what part of the labor in the moral culture of the world is assigned to us, whether we are only collecting the implements of husbandry, and cultivating a little spot or two, by way of example and encouragement; or are scattering widely the seed which others are to reap, I know not.
But one thing I know, that nothing we do will be completely and ultimately lost—everything is preparing for and hastening to the harvest. Look to the end of the world; the ploughman, the sower, the reaper, will have entered; the seed will have been sown; the crop will have been matured; the harvest will have been gathered; patriarchs, priests, prophets, apostles, missionaries, ministers, with all holy men and women, of every denomination, country, and age, will be gathered together unto the great Lord of the inheritance; all shall assemble, as those who have labored in separate parts of the same domain, who have wrought in different times, and have accomplished various but concurring objects; none shall boast, none complain, none shall envy; for all shall see that they have done their own work, and in its proper time; and their joy shall be, not merely the joy of men in harvest—but their felicity shall be the shout, the rapture, the mutual congratulation, and the grateful praise of the multitude, who are assembled at the jubilee of creation, the harvest home of the universe!
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