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<p><strong>3. Discharge your teaching duties in a HUMBLE and AFFECTIONATE manner.</strong><br><br>
God, who framed the constitution of the human mind, and constructed all its mechanism, has himself informed us, what are the springs of action, which, by those who have anything to do in guiding its operations, should be chiefly touched. "I drew them," says Jehovah speaking of his conduct towards the Israelites, "with the cords of love, and the bands of a man." Here then, in this single short expression, we have compendiously expressed the whole theory of human government, whether it apply to families, to schools, or nations, whether it be designed to control the savage or the sage. This verse, which contains the philosophy of government, should be studied by everyone who has anything to do with his species in the way of enlightening their minds, improving their hearts, forming their characters, or exacting their obedience. <em>The cords of love </em>are the <em>bands of a man</em>.<br><br>
In prescribing to you, therefore, the manner in which your duties are to be discharged, I must enjoin an affectionate and humble temper. Here I would not be understood as inculcating that weak, and foolish indulgence, which drops the controls of authority, and by abandoning the children to their own inclinations, is still more destructive than the sternest tyranny. The temper that I mean is perfectly compatible with the most <strong>inflexible authority</strong>, but it expresses itself in <strong>tender and gentle manner and language</strong>. The law of kindness is in its lips. Its commands and prohibitions are firm, but mild. It avoids a surly, stern, repulsive tone, and often distributes looks and smiles upon its objects, which enter to their very hearts, and win them as captives to itself. It represses all that impatience which the ignorance, the follies, and the vices of the children without great watchfulness, have such a tendency to produce; and renders its possessor patient, loving and humble.<br><br>
A teacher adopting such a method, takes the nearest road to the hearts of the youths committed to his care. He will secure their affection, and thus hold in his hand the key of their disposition. You mistake, greatly mistake, if you suppose a stern, tyrannical manner is necessary to maintain your authority. Besides, it becomes you to recollect, that you are not mere ordinary schoolmasters; you are teachers of piety; and that religion too which has so much to do with love. It is the duty of your office to teach the children the knowledge of that great Being, of whom it is said "God is love,"—to point to the cross of Jesus, and instruct them in the height, and breadth, and length, and depth of the love of Christ, which passes knowledge—to repeat to them severally, the commands of the two tables, and inform them that the fulfilling of the whole law, is love—to announce to them the three cardinal virtues of Christianity, faith, hope, love—and to inform them, the greatest of these is love. In short, to teach them that godliness, the essence of which in this world, and its perfection in the world to come, is love! How ill adapted, how inconsistent, how contradictory to such an office—is a harsh, surly, and tyrannical method of expression. In teaching the religion of Jesus, we must exhibit his spirit, as well as inculcate his doctrines; we must learn of him, who as a teacher, was meek and lowly in heart; for it should never be forgotten that in his religion, mercy and truth meet together.<br>
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<strong>4. Unite your affectionate manner, with a DIGNIFIED manner.</strong><br><br>
I have already hinted that these two are by no means incompatible with each other. Their union forms the very perfection of a godly teacher. Humility is not necessarily connected with degradation; nor is it requisite to be familiar, in order to be affable. Remember you are placed on an eminence above your children, and however affection may lead you to <em>stoop </em>from it with kindness, in order the more effectually to reach them—still you must never <em>descend </em>from it, to be upon their level. Between you and them there is a boundary line, which must be mutually observed; and in order to keep them from overstepping it on their side, do not approach too near it on your own.<br><br>
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<strong>You <em>must </em>keep up your authority!</strong> For if you cannot ensure obedience, you had better retire. Let your method of addressing them in common conversation, be dignified, and respectful. Call them by their proper names, and never employ the abbreviated terms of vulgar phraseology. Avoid all jesting and low familiarity, together with the broad loud laugh of jocular merriment. If ever you would have them respect your authority—never trifle with it yourself. Let them see that you govern from principle, and not from caprice. In order to this, never require anything but what is reasonable, and insist upon the performance of all you require. Always deliberate before you command, or threaten—and then never relax afterwards. Your great aim should be that they may both love and respect you! <br>
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<strong>5. Pursue your exertions with unwearied PERSEVERANCE.</strong><br><br>
It was little to the honor of Reuben, when his dying father thus delineated his character, "Unstable as water, you shall not excel." Instability is a great blemish of character, which occasional excellencies may conceal for a season—but do not remove the blemish. Instability is in general contemptible, but in the cause of teaching Scripture—it is cruel. Like the fig tree, which the Savior blasted, it excites our hopes, only to disappoint them. There are some people whose activity for a <em>season</em>, is ample. For a while they are all bustle and energy—but it is only for a while. I will not say that their exertions are utterly useless. Their zeal serves the part of thunder storms in the atmosphere of benevolence. Its roll is impressive, and its flashes, vivid as lightning—but just as transient. Still, however, even the storm is useful, though in a very subordinate degree to other influences—which are more steady, more permanent, and more fruitful. How often have we had to lament the sudden resignation of teachers, whose labors required nothing but continuance to render them incalculably useful; but over whom we exclaimed with a sigh, "You did run well, what has hindered you?"<br><br>
It will be proper to enumerate here <strong>some of the causes which frequently operate in producing a lack of the perseverance </strong>I am now enjoining.<br><br>
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<strong>A. In some cases a lack of perseverance arises <em>from the self-denying nature of the employment; and the difficulties and sacrifices of which were not previously considered.</em> </strong>In prospect of any intended labor, it is the part of wisdom to sit down and count the cost. Where this is neglected, even the smallest difficulties, as they come upon us when neither expecting them, nor prepared for them—are likely to have a very discouraging effect upon the mind. It is vain to deny, and useless to conceal—that the office of a Sunday School teacher, is attended with no trifling sacrifices of ease and comfort, which unless they were previously foreseen, will, in all probability, soon drive them from the work.<br><br>
Should these pages meet the eye of anyone who is about shamefully to retire before the face of a few unexpected toils—I entreat him to consider the importance of the cause he is disposed to abandon. Let him meditate upon the worth of souls, and call up the interests of two worlds, which depend so much upon religious instruction—and then say, if he ought not to blush at the thought of retreating. Did the Son of God labor through a life of poverty, agonize in a death of torture, for immortal souls—and will you cast from you their interests because a little sacrifice of time and ease is required? Can <em>you </em>pretend to fellowship with Christ? If selfishness has not chilled your blood at its fountain, let it rise into your cheek with the blush of holy shame, and be the signal from this hour for rallying your retreating benevolence.<br><br>
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<strong>B. <em>Some teachers have been induced to give up their employment on account of a misunderstanding with their associates</em>. </strong>It is much to the reproach of human nature, that there is no object—however <em>remote </em>from the usual track of discord; however<em>elevated </em>above the mists of misunderstanding; or however distinct from the interests of selfishness—but sometimes becomes the unwilling occasion of strife, and alienation among those who support it. One would imagine, if experience were not a more credible witness than fancy, that the regions of benevolence were too rarified an atmosphere for discord to breathe in. But we know to the contrary. Offences among the active supporters of a Sunday School are, alas! too common, and have driven away many a valuable teacher from his office. Let those, however, who are under the influence of such a temptation, and have well near resolved to quit their post, because of some injury they have received—seriously consider what the poor children have done, that <em>they </em>are to be objects of their revenge; for on them at last the anger falls!<br><br>
Let them imagine the great God following them into their retirement, and proposing to them a question similar to that with which he surprised his disheartened prophet, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" Would they venture to reply, or if they did, would it not be with trembling and confusion, "Lord, I was offended by my fellow teachers, therefore I determined to give up the employment altogether." "And what," it may be expected, would Jehovah reply, "have these poor ignorant, lost children done—that <em>they </em>must suffer for the wrong <em>you </em>have received? Have I borne with your offences, and provocations, lo! these many years—and have never forsaken you? And yet now for one slight injury do you forsake both my cause, and the interests of those poor babes, that I had entrusted to your care! Is this your gratitude! Is this your obedience! Is this your religion!" Bow to the rebuke. Confess your folly. Be reconciled to the offender—and <em>persevere </em>in your duty.<br><br>
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<strong>C. Nearly connected with this is <em>a dislike to some of the arrangements of the school</em></strong><em>, which not infrequently induces a teacher to make their alteration a condition of his continuing in office</em>. This cannot, and very generally ought not to be done, unless the managers are convinced that the proposed alterations are for the benefit of the institution—and even then it ought not to be done with the view of gratifying an individual—but of improving the school. The disposition which leads a man to say, "Unless you alter this or that—I will immediately resign," with whatever plausible excuses it may be covered—is usually in reality nothing more or better than rank pride. Such teachers would do well to consider what would be the consequence, if everyone like themselves had an alteration to propose, as a condition of their continuance. They can scarcely pretend to be actuated by feelings of benevolence, since whatever defects or imperfections they may discover in the school, even with all these clogging their operations, they can certainly do much more good by continuing than retiring. If they are really convinced that the system of instruction would be improved by the adoption of their views, and are conscious of being actuated by benevolence, and not merely by self-will, then, in the true spirit of a reformer, they should continue in their office, with the hope of one day being able to accomplish the object of desire.<br><br>
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<strong>D. In some cases young people have left their office, <em>because there were none in the school of equal social or economic standing with themselves in life</em>. </strong>What! shall pride, that disgusting and destructive vice, be allowed admission to the field of mercy's sacred labors? What! must our very compassion be made dependent on the finery which the milliner, the jeweler, or the tailor can supply to a fellow laborer, in the cause of God and souls? That the 'frivolous and the mirthful' should refuse to resort to a place where 'corresponding glitter' is not to be found, is not surprising. But to refuse to distribute the benefits of instruction to the ignorant, and the blessings of salvation to the perishing–unless we have by our side one as well dressed as ourselves, seems the very climax of all that is absurd in human pride!<br><br>
Is this then a cause which can be ennobled by the 'splendor'—or degraded by the 'obscurity', of its teachers? Is it not enough that you are employed as the almoners of God's richest gifts, and engaged for the benefit of immortal interests? The loftiest seraph that glows, and burns in the temple above, if commissioned by his God, would accept with gratitude the office you are disposed to vacate, and in teaching the knowledge of his exalted Lord, would think himself most honorably employed, though his pupils were the poorest of children, and his associates the poorest of teachers. If however you must have fellow-workers who are your equals—you have only to look up with the eye of faith, and you would find yourself surrounded with ministers and missionaries; prophets and apostles; the wise and good of every age, who have all been pursuing, though in another way, the same grand object as you are seeking. And even all this, what is it to the thought of being, although in the humblest sense, <em>a fellow worker with God</em>, and Christ, in the redemption of a lost and miserable world?<br><br>
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