Our Sins at the Seminary

Next Part Our Sins at the Seminary 2

(Two letters from John Angell James to his brother Thomas
James—on beginning his studies for the Christian ministry)

December 19, 1811.

To my brother Thomas,
Were my ability equal to my wishes, with what hallowed delight would I expatiate on the scenery of that prospect, which, to the eye of your imagination, is seen stretching over the interminable compass of futurity. How readily would I trace, and how plainly, the path from which your feet must never deviate. I would mark the spots where you may naturally expect to meet with danger—where with difficulty—where with delight. I would tell you when to open your heart to the most delicious pleasures—when to close it against the most insidious poison. I would caution and encourage, stimulate and restrain, as circumstances required. But because I cannot do what I would, shall I not do what I can, and thus obtain Mary's memorial? I will.

It was my intention, my dear brother, to have written one long letter, containing merely such heads of advice as I thought adapted to your present situation, but finding upon reflection that I would wish to say more than could be well contained in a single epistle, I determined to change my plan, and tax your patience by a series of letters addressed to you at different times, each containing the discussion of some particular topic. The plan which at present I propose is:

1. To state with what particular end and design you should enter on academic pursuits, and the great importance of keeping that precise end continually in view.

2. To consider the great import of preserving in the midst of your studies, the power and life of personal piety.

3. To mention what branches of study should most closely engage your attention during your residence at Hoxton.

4. The means of prosecuting those studies with advantage to yourself, and in subordination to the great end of all your academic pursuits.

The subject of the present letter is to state the chief end and design with which you should enter on your preparatory studies, and the great importance of ever keeping that end in view.

It is the part of folly to act before the end is chosen or the means of exertion properly arranged.

Right reason suggests to every one entering on a new career this natural inquiry—For what precise object are you about to start? It is to a neglect of this question that we are to attribute that profligate misuse of time and talent which in this world of activity, we are so frequently grieved to witness.

How many active minds, capable of great service to the world, do we see driven at random over the stage of existence, answering no other end but to teach mankind how much exertion may be wasted, for lack of a precise and proper end to guide its progress. Their whole life resembles the evening flight of the bat—a useless flutter amidst darkness and vanity. What wisdom, to say nothing of religion, dictates to you, my dear brother, at the present moment is—to fix with yourself, after serious deliberation, the precise design of your academic career, to divide between many claimants, which has the rightful authority to your supreme reverence and regard. By your preparatory studies you propose to become possessed of learning—you mean to be a minister with some education—you wish to preach with acceptance—you propose to yourself great pleasure in the attainment of knowledge. These are all ends which you may lawfully set before your mind in your present prospect; but woe be to your ill-judging mind, if any of these is your chief end. If this is the case, you will carry a curse with you to the study, and from there to the pulpit, from thence to the grave, from thence to the bar of Christ, and from thence, by a last remove, to the bottomless pit!

I am, however, persuaded better things of you, though I thus speak. Your religion has, before now, fixed this on your heart as the chief design of preparatory studies—"that you might be qualified in the use of appointed means, more fully to glorify God in the salvation of immortal souls." It is not merely to be prepared to preach, nor merely to preach well, nor to preach acceptably—but to preach successfully. And what is successful preaching, short of the conversion of immortal souls?

But what I wish to impress upon your mind is the infinite importance of keeping this great object in view through all, even the most minute of your academic pursuits. Everything is to be viewed by you in connection with this end; and only as it promotes this is anything absolutely momentous. This must remain in the midst of all your feelings and opinions, all your pursuits and exertions—the common centre to which everything by an undeviating law of attraction gravitates.

If you pore over the difficulties of language, if you read the systems of moral philosophy, if you study the accuracies of logic, if you examine the flowers of rhetoric, or demonstrate the problems of mathematics—it must not be ultimately for the purpose of becoming a classic, a philosopher, a logician, an orator, or a mathematician; but that by these means you may, in one way or other, be prepared to demonstrate, explain, and enforce to the conviction of sinners, the truths on the belief of which, their salvation depends. All are to be viewed as giving you in the order of means, a readier access to their minds, a greater power over their hearts.

A man who is systematically trained to the terrible art of war is taught some of the modern languages, he is instructed in mathematics, mechanics, geography, history, fortification; not, however, merely for the sake of being a learned soldier—no, but a successful general in the defense of his country and the destruction of its enemies. He is taught to study, as it were, at the foot of a bastion, in the middle of a trench, pointing a cannon, storming a breach, or heading an army—and drives on his scholastic pursuits amidst imaginary shouts of war, the glories of conquest, or the shame of defeat. Fields covered with the slain, cities reduced to ruin, and prisons crowded with captives, are the objects on which he is taught that all his learning must terminate. Similar must be the manner in which your preparation for the work of the ministry is carried forward.

You will not mistake me, and suppose that I am upholding the barbarous idea which many seem to entertain—that learning for a minister of the gospel, is unnecessary. Such a sentiment can only spring from ignorance and envy. No, my brother, I attach the greatest importance to general knowledge, considered as a means subordinate to the great end which I have already specified. Learning is likely to procure respect for its possessor, is calculated not only to screen him from neglect or contempt, but to engage the attention of many who would otherwise treat him with indignant scorn. It has, in innumerable instances, abated the violence of prejudice, and conciliated esteem—where excellence the most sterling, unattended by the polish of education, would have been totally destitute of attraction.

How often have men of taste and intellect been led to hear from the lips of some able preacher the glorious gospel of the blessed God—not from any desire of spiritual edification—but merely to be pleased with the talents of the speaker; and who, when they intended only to admire the abilities of the servant, have returned adoring the grace of his Lord! In this respect, learning is useful to a minister, as it extends the probability of his success. For this end it ought to be pursued; and as this is the best motive to stimulate your mind in its academic engagements, so it is unquestionably the strongest. Who is likely to search for knowledge with the greatest ardor—the man that seeks it merely as its own reward—or he that desires it as a probable means of enlarging his qualifications as a messenger of peace?

The former has little to urge him but the prospect of personal gratification; the latter, in addition to this, has the hope of making his knowledge subservient to the best interests of his fellow-creatures. One is urged forward by selfishness somewhat refined; the other, by a benevolence which knows no limit to the extent of its desires, short of the everlasting happiness of its objects. Such a view as this of the great design of academic pursuits, would not only excite the mind to exertion, but help it to bear with patience—the rigor of intellectual toil. By having determined to arrive at the pulpit only in the regular way of preparatory study—you have undertaken what will often be found a weariness to the flesh.

Your way as a student must necessarily lead you through much which at first will present on every hand, little but alpine hills of difficulty, and desert plains of barren sterility. If you mean to apply closely to study, which I most fervently hope is your determination, there are hastening on to meet you hours and weeks and months of dry and tedious labor. And can your imagination frame one motive so encouraging, so strengthening to the mind—as the recollection that all this toil is to enable you to discharge with ability and success, the arduous and important duties of the ministerial office?

If you keep in view as you ought, and as I pray God you may, the proper design of your academic pursuits—if your soul glows with burning zeal for the glory of God, and is penetrated with tender pity for the souls of mankind—you will with the greatest cheerfulness make any sacrifice, however costly, endure any fatigue, however oppressive. I do most earnestly entreat you, my dear brother, to consider well this great design of your residence at Hoxton. There the model of your future character will be framed, the path for your future steps will be indicated. In short, there will your whole future life in all its important results, both to yourself and others, be epitomized.

I can assure you from evidence, that without great watchfulness you will be often in danger of forgetting the precise end for which you study. If you make proficiency in learning—vanity will suggest how pleasing it is to be esteemed as a literary genius. If you should feel a deficiency compared with some of your fellow-students, envy will sometimes spur you on to diligence, with the hope of equaling or excelling these.

If you are superior to many of the others—pride will induce a kind of idolatry of your own talents. Hearing of the applause with which the attainments of some popular favorites are received, you will feel a temptation to give such a turn to your studies as shall be likely to prepare you for a share of public admiration. These and a variety of other feelings will frequently send up a mist that will hide from distinct observation the great object which revelation has already erected for your waymark, and which I have endeavored to point out to your vigilant attention.

Again, before I close this letter, I remind you that the chief design of your academic pursuits is to prepare you more extensively to glorify God in the salvation of sinners.Let this thought be the constant inmate of your soul. Let it rise up with you in the morning and lie down with you at night. Wherever you go, whatever you do, let it attend and direct you.

Reckon the duties of that day but half performed, on which you have never seriously reflected on this vast subject; and impress it upon your spirit, by making it the subject in part of almost every prayer that you present to God. As a means of fastening it more securely on your own heart, talk of it to others. Let it be the matter of conversation with those to whom it is a subject of equal interest and obligation. And be assured, my dear brother, that it will be my fervent and never-ceasing prayer to the God of all grace, that He would grant you that assistance which is necessary to keep this great object ever before your eye, surrounded with all its tremendous importance, and ever impressed upon your conscience with all its beneficial influence.

Believe me, my dear brother, yours affectionately,
J. A. James.

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