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Practical Christianity

John S. C. Abbott · 1862 · Scanned text

64,206 words · about 4 h 30 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
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About this book

Author
John S. C. Abbott
Language
English
Published
1862
Length
64,206 words · about 4 h 30 min
Sections
15 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public domain

 

Contents (15)

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Front matter

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Preface

There are many young men, tliouglitless upon the subject of religion, who can hardly be induced to read our standard works upon Christianity. These pages have been written with special reference to such persons, hoping to interest them in themes the most ennobling and sublime the human mind can conceive. Whether the attempt shall prove a success or a failure the result only can show.

I have written mainly from my own experience — from the solace which Christianity has afforded me in the battle of life, and which both history and biogTajohy instruct me it has afforded thousands of others, in various ages and in remote lands.

There may be error in these pages, but liefi^- esy there is none. Truly has Milton said,

VI PEEFACE.

^' Heresy is in The will and choice, professedly against Scripture. Error is against the will, in misunderstanding the Scripture after all sincere endeavors to understand it rightly. It is a human frailty to err, and no man is infallible here on earth."

Therefore can I say with one of the ancients, " Err I may, but a heretic I will not be." If the views of Christianity here presented — views which I have urged from the pulpit for twenty-five years — ^be not essentially correct, so as to be a safe guide to Heaven, then has my preaching been vain, and my faith is also vain, and I am yet in my sins.

John S. C. Abbott.

Howe Street Church,

Neio Have7i^ Conn,

Chapter I. What Is It To Be A Christian?

The College Student. — Conversation in a Boat. — Eleonora: a poor Sinner. — The Battle of Life. — No Cross, no Crown. — Penance. — The Cross of Self-denial. — The Prayer-meeting. — Christianity invites to Conflict, not Repose. — The Alarm at Lexington. — The Crusades. — Sublimity of the Christian Conflict Page 13

CHAPTER n.

WHY SHOULD I BECOME A CHRISTIAN?

The Siberian Exile. — The Emigrant. — Departure for the Spirit -land. — The Testimony of Patriarchs, — Of Apostles.— Death of Sir Walter Scott.— Of Daniel Webster.— Of Talleyi-and. — Remarkable Testimony of Napoleon. — The young Christian. — The mature Christian. — The dying Christian. — The Pilgrims. — An angelic Embassy. 3-i

Chapter III. How Shall I Become A Christian?

Moral Courage. — Soldiers of the Cross. — Family Prayer. — The Sea-captain. — Heroism of young Ladies. — Remark of John Randolph. — Success the Reward of Labor. — Entire Consecration to Duty makes Duty pleasant. — Nature of the religious Life. — Seek the best Religion. — Frankness and Sincerity. — William Wirt. — William Wilberforce 56

Vlll CONTENTS.

Chapter IV. What Are The Duties Of A Christian?

The glad Tidings. — The doomed Man pardoned. — Louis XVI. and Malesherhes. — ^Evidence that One is a Christian. — How is a Change of Heart effected? — God's Love. — How it operates. — The Ship-carpenter. — The Battle of Life. — The domestic "Waterloo. — Constitutional Temperaments. — Religion as a Source and Cause of Happiness. — Its beneficent Influence Page 76

Chapter V. The Adaptation Of Christianity To The Wants Of The

WORLD.

The Forms and Spirit which Religion assumes. — Comprehensiveness of the Christian Scheme. — The Grandeur of Christianitv. — The two Efforts for the Overthrow of Christianity. — Persecution. — Corruption. — The Papacy. — The Duchess at Versailles. — Socrates ; his Religion ; his Pupils. — Humboldt. — The Christian Sailor-boy. — True ISTobility 98

Chapter VI. The Ennobling Influence Of Christianity

The Christian Nobleman. — Great Diversities of human Condition. — Companionship with God. — The two Farmers. — Burns's Cotter's Saturday Night. — The Elevation which Consciousness of Possession gives. — Uncle Tom. — The Inheritance of the Christian. — Visions at Death. — Janeway. — The Martyr Stephen. — The true Spirit of Religion. — Importance of Doctrines; of Forms. — The Guilt of corrupting Christianity 120

CO^'TENTS. IX

CHAPTER VII. THE EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIi^^TT

Various and discordant Systems of Religion. — The Inward Witness. — Altamont. — Dr. Pajson. — Inefficiency of Argument. — Experimental Testimony. — The Hunger of the Soul. — Legend of Pontius Pilate. — Sublime Revelations of Christianity. — External Evidences unavailable for most Christians. — Nature of the experimental Evidence. — The most convincing Argument. — Hume. — Voltaire. — Byron. —Death-bed of Henry Clay Page 138

CHAPTER Vni.

THE RESUERECTIOX.

Revelation confirmed by the Analogies of Nature. — The Chrysalis. — Vegetation. — Views of the Ancients. — The Scene of Resurrection. — Beautiful Conception of Parnell. — The intermediate State. — Changes through which immortal Spirits may pass. — Union of Soul and Body in the future AYorld. — Scriptural Announcement of Judgment. — The final Conflagration. — The new Earth to emerge from the Ruins. — Teachings of Geology, Chemistry, and Astronomy. — Phenomena of the Stars 161

Chapter IX. The Celestial Body

The Soul to occupy a Body in the future World. — Shadowy Conceptions. — Imperfection not essential to Materialism. — The celestial Body not a new Creation, but a Resurrection. — Change in the Bodies of the Living. — Philosophical Objections. — Greatness of the Change at the Resurrection. — Beauty of the human Frame. — Celestial Journeying. — Magnitude of the Universe. — Employments in Heaven. — Cheering Views 185

CONTENTS.

Chapter X. Heavenly Recognition

The Cravings of the Soul. — Adam in Eden. — Poetic Description. — The new Eden. — The Nature of Heaven's Enjoyments. — Peculiarity of the Divine Existence. — Heaven as a City. — Heaven a Scene of rural Beauty. — The Discoveries of modern Astronomy. — Jupiter. — The Sun. — Star -clusters. — Immensity of God's Works. — Philosophical Testimony. — Scripture Testimony Page 205

Chapter XI. The Reasonableness Op Christianity

The Doctrines of Christianity. — Evidence of their Reasonableness. — The Duties Christianity enjoins. — The Measures Christianity adopts. — The Christian Ministry. — The Church. — Ordinances of Christianity. — The Sabbath. — Baptism. — The Lord's Supper. — The Effects of Christianity. — Death of the Unbeliever. — Testimony of ancient Greeks.— The two Death-bed Scenes 222

Chapter XII. The Voice Of Prophecy

External Evidences of Christianity. — Edom in its Power. — Prophetic Denunciations. — Utter Desolation. — Testimony of Yolney. — Burckhardt and Seetzen. — Grandeur of the Ruins.— Petra. — Testimony of Laborde.— The Traveler Stephens.— Sublimity of Solitude and Decay.— Scenes in Ancient Petra. — Appeal to the Reader 244

Chapter XIII. Old Testament Christians

The Babylonish Invasion.— The Captives.— Daniel.— The first Trial. — The Dream of Nebuchadnezzar. — Moral

CONTENTS. XI

Courage of Daniel. — Belshazzar's Kevel. — Daniel's Heroism. — Character of Daniel. — Noah. — Age of the World at his Birth. — His Trials. — His wonderful Firmness. — State of the World. — The Deluge. — New Temptations. — Noah's Fall. — Lessons taught. — Veracity of the Bible. — Probation. — Future Judgment Page 2G3

CHAPTER XLY.

THE NEW LITE.

Andrew Jackson. — His Excuses. — Confession to his Pastor. — The Protracted Meeting. — Conviction of Sin. — Ashamed of Jesus. — Conversion. — Its Results. — Louis Philippe.. — Moral Training. — Madame de Genlis. — The Journal of Louis Philippe. — Practical Directions. — Conclusion., 287

PRACTICAL CHRISTIANITY.

Chapter I. What Is It To Be A Christian?

The College Student. — Conversation in a Boat. — Eleonora: a poor Sinner. — The Battle of Life. — No Cross, no Crown. — Penance. — The Cross of Self-denial. — The Prayer-meeting. — Christianity invites to Conflict, not Kepose. — The Alann at Lexington. — The Crusades. — Sublimity of the Christian Conflict.

Several young men were one evening sitting around tlie fire in a college room, wlien the conversation turned upon the subject of religion. One of the young men said, perhaps with unintentional exaggeration, but with sincerity,

'^ If I could, by having my right arm cut off, be sure that I were a Christian, I would submit to the operation unhesitatingly. I have often tried to be a Christian, but in vain. I shall not try any more."

Similar remarks are made every day. There are thousands who think that they really desire to become Christians, but that there is some insuperable obstacle in the way. They assume — still with inward misgivings that it is not true— that they wish to become reconciled to God, but that Grod is not willing to become reconciled to them.

There are, however, exceptions. There are many young men of intelligence and of good reputation who will frankly avow that they do not wish to be Christians. The following scene, which actually occurred, as described, some years ago, will illustrate this state of mind.

Two young men who had just completed their collegiate education were sailing upon one of the most beautiful rivers of our country. It was a bright day in June. Those gorgeous clouds, which the sailors call '' Canadian horsemen," were advancing in squadrons from the northwest, and a gentle breeze pressed the sail and rippled the surface of the stream. One of these young men had just become, as he hoped, a Christian, and was anxious to induce his high-minded and talented companion to espouse the same cause. He, however, felt diffident about introducing the subject, and was afraid that, by abruptness, he might offend the sensitive feelings of his associate, and thus render religion repulsive.

He endeavored, therefore, to approach the theme gradually. As they leaned upon the stern of the boat, now talking, now musing, admiring the lovely scenery of the flowing river, wooded banks, and fleecy sky, the young Christian, whom we will call Henry, said to his companion, whom we will call Greorge,

^' How much like a ship that cloud looks off there upon our right ! It seems as though, if we could but get into it, we could have a far pleasanter sail up there in the sky than we are enjoying down here upon the earth."

^'Yes," George replied, ^'that would be a splendid balloon to float in, high above all the cities and mountains. What a magnificent prospect we could look down upon! The houses would dwindle into apparently little boxes, such as children play with. And the men, working in the fields and crowding the streets, would seem no larger than emmets."

*^ And if we could only spread our sails," Henry continued, "and be wafted far away, floating beyond the sun, and coasting along the stars, which, like islands, are scattered through the immensities of space, what scenes of novelty and of sublimity would be opened before us!"

Both were silent for a moment, and then

George rejoined, ^'I have often thought how exciting it must be when a whale-ship, in the Pacific, comes in sight of a strange island, one which perhaps has never before been visited by a white man. The luxuriance of tropical vegetation, the huts of the natives, the strange aspect of naked savages, and their manners and customs, so different from any which have been thought of before, must seem like the vision of a dream."

"It must indeed be so," Henry rejoined. "And yet the scenes which will be opened before us when we leave this world must be infinitely more wonderful and sublime. I am never weary of looking up in the evening to the stars, those mansions of God, and wondering what kind of worlds they are, what the aspect and character of their inhabitants, and what the nature of their employments and pleasures. I believe that they are all happy worlds, like Eden, occupied by angel spirits, and that the Christian, after death, will be a welcome guest upon them all. What a sublime thought it is that we shall have infinity to explore, and eternity to do it in !"

"You are growing visionary, Henry," was the prompt reply of George. "We do not know much about any other world than this, or any otlier state of existence than that which we now enjoy. I think that we had better confine our thoughts to the practical scenes around us."

^' Surely," Henry replied, ^' we can not doubt that the Bible is true ; and that informs us that this life is merely a state in which we are to prepare for another and a nobler existence. If we love God, and become in character like God, as he has revealed himself to us in Jesus Christ, we shall be received to Heaven. Then we become God's sons and heirs, and, as such, the universe is our inheritance ; then all these worlds which we see in the evening sk}^, and millions upon millions more which even the telescope has not revealed to us, will be just as much our home as we are at home in our own fathers' houses here on earth."

Again there was a pause, which was not interrupted until George replied, in words uttered slowly and deliberately, ^' Well, it may be so, for aught I know, and it may not be so, for aught I know. We can not tell where we were one hundred years ago, and as little can we tell where we shall be one hundred years hence. We suddenly find ourselves existing in this world. We are soon to leave it to go I know not where ; perhaps to return to the same non-

E

18 PE ACTIO AL CHRISTIANITY.

existence from whence we came. The past, before our birth, is all dark, and the future, after our death, is equally so."

'^ It does not appear so to me," Henry rejoined. ^' We know that there is a God, for the universe could not exist without a maker. We know that we ought to love God, and do that which our conscience tells us to be right, and.to refrain from doing that which conscience declares to be wrong. The Bible only urges us, by the most powerful of conceivable motives, thus to live, doing every thing that is right and nothing that is wrong. It also shows us how, when we have done wrong, we can obtain forgiveness. Our own hearts assure us that such teachings must be true. And / am determined to try to live according to the instructions of the Bible, to do every thing which I think will please God, and to do nothing which will be displeasing to him ; then, while I live, I shall have the joy of an approving conscience ; when I die I shall be cheered by the conviction that I have done every thing that I could to prepare for death, and in the spiritland I believe that my heavenly Father will receive me, and make me as one of his angels."

Again there was a long pause, during which there probably was a struggle in the mind of

George between the consciousness of truth and the wicked disposition to live without God. It may have been the moment, in the soul's conflict, when the destinies of that soul were settled forever. The silence at length was broken as George replied, in tones of deliberation and firmness,

^' Very well ; you. may do as you choose. I have thought of this subject not a little ; and I have made up my mind that while I am in this world I will live for this world, and for this world alone. When I die, if I find that I am introduced to any other state of existence, I will do the best I can there."

Here the conversation was dropped, and was never again resumed. The two young men soon separated, and went forth to encounter the temptations and the toils of life. After thirty years of conflict with disappointment and adversity, George, in a distant land, with no friend at his dying pillow, sank into the grave. Perhaps in those last sad hours he looked up in prayer to his heavenly Father, and sought that godliness which hath promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come.

This incident shows conclusively that there are some persons who have no wish to be Christians. They deliberately form the resolve

20 PKACTICAL CHEISTIANITY.

to let that question alone. Of such, there is but little hope. It is probable, however, that the great majority of those who will read this book often express the desire to make their peace with Grod, and often think that they do earnestly wish to be the disciples of the Savior.

"What, then, is it to be a Christian? It is to try to please Grod in every thing, according to the teachings of the Bible and of one's conscience ; to repent of all the wrong we have done, and to ask God's forgiveness for the sake of Christ, who has died for us. Christianity is the same in all hearts. Persons may differ in education, in intelligence, in wealth, in rank, in the forms and ceremonies to which they are accustomed, but in this all Christians are alike ; they pray for forgiveness in the name of Jesus, and try to please God in every thing. Sometimes they may think that they are doing right when they are doing wrong ; but God will readily forgive all such sins of ignorance, for it is written, [^ He knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust."

Even in the darkest ages of the world we find many most attractive examples of genuine piety. Through cloistered glooms and the accumulated moss of superstitions, we see beaming fortli in many a disciple the gentle, loving, devoted spirit of Christ.

About one hundred and sixty years ago there was in the heart of Germany a young duchess, Eleonora, residing in the court of her father, Philip, the elector palatine. In childhood she became a Christian — an earnest and warm-hearted Christian, longing for the love of God, and eager to make any sacrifice and to practice any self-denial which she thought would prove acceptable to him. Guided by the teachings of her spiritual instructors, who, though doubtless sincere, had ingrafted upon the precepts of the Bible the traditions and superstitions of that dark age, she was taught to deprive herself of almost every innocent gratification, and to practice upon her fragile frame all the severities of an anchorite. Celibacy was especially commended to her as a virtue peculiarly grateful to God, and she consequently declined all solicitations for her hand.

Leopold, the widowed Emperor of Germany, sent a magnificent retinue to the palace of the grand elector, and solicited Eleonora for his bride. It was the most brilliant match Europe could furnish. But Eleonora, notwithstanding all the importunities of her parents, rejected the proffered crown. As the emperor urged

22 PEACTICAL CHEISTIAlSriTY.

his plea, the conscientious maiden, that she might render herself personally unattractive to him, neglected her dress, and exposed herself unbonneted to the sun and the wind. She thus succeeded in repelling his suit, and the emperor married Claudia of the Tyrol.

The elector palatine was one of the most powerful of the minor princes of Europe, and his court, in gayety and splendor, rivaled even that of the emperor. Eleonora was compelled to be a prominent actor in the gorgeous saloons of her father's palace, and to mingle with the festive throng in all their pageants of pleasure.

But her heart was elsewhere. Several hours every day were sacredly devoted to prayer and religious reading. She kept a minute journal, in which she scrupulously recorded and condemned her failings. She visited the sick in lowly cottages, and with her own hands performed the most self-denying duties required at the bedside of pain and death.

After the lapse of three years Claudia died, and again the widowed emperor sought the hand of Eleonora. Her spiritual advisers now urged that it was her duty to accept the imperial alliance, since upon the throne she could render herself so useful in extending the influence of the Church. Promptly she yielded to the voice of duty, and, charioted in splendor, was conveyed a bride to Vienna. But her Christian character survived this fearful ordeal, and remained unchanged. She carried the penance and self-sacrifice of the cloister into the voluptuousness of the palace.

The imperial table was loaded with every luxury ; but Eleonora, the empress, drank only cold water, and ate of fare as humble as could be found in any peasant's hut. On occasions of state it was needful that she should be dressed in embroidered robes of purple and of gold. But, to prevent any possibility of the risings of pride, her dress and jewelry were so arranged, with sharp brads pricking the flesh, that she was kept in a state of constant suffering. Thus she endeavored, while discharging, with the utmost fidelity, all the duties of a wife and an empress, to be ever reminded- that life is but probation. These mistaken austerities, which were caused by the darkness of the age in which she lived, only show how sincere and unreserved was her consecration to God. The pure gold shines lustrous through the dross commingled with it.

When Eleonora attended the Opera with the emperor, which she frequently was constrained to do, she took with her the Psalms of David,

24 PEACTICAL CHEISTIANITY.

bound to resemble tbe books of the performance, and thus unostentatiously endeavored to shield her mind from the profane and indelicate allusions withwhicb the operas of those days were filled, and from which, as yet, they are by no means purified.

For the benefit of her subjects, she translated the Psalms into German verse, and also translated into German several other books of a devotional character. Often she was seen with packages of garments and baskets of food entering the cottages of the poor peasantry around her country palace, ministering, like an angel of mercy, to all their wants.

At length her husband was taken sick, and lingered through severe pangs on his dying bed. Eleonora watched at his pillow with all the assiduity of a Sister of Charity. She hardly abandoned her post for a moment by day or by night. To all his wants she administered with her own hands, and at last closed his eyes as he slept in death. She survived her husband fifteen years, devoting herself with untiring self-sacrifice through all this period personally to the instruction of the ignorant, to nursing the sick, to feeding and clothing the poor. All possible luxury she discarded, and endeavored, as closely as possible, to imitate

BEIISra A CHRISTIAN'. 25

her Savior, wtio had not where to lay his head. Her death was like the slumber of a child who sobs itself asleep on its mother's bosom. At her express request her funeral was unattended with any display; and she directed that there should be inscribed upon her tombstone simply the words

ELEONORA :

A POOR SINNER.

The date only was added : Died January 17, 1770.

This is the true spirit of religion, though there be blended with it some of the imperfections which pertain to our frail nature. But God, who, like as a father pitieth his children, pitieth them that fear him, assures ns that ^' He knoweth our frame, that he remembereth that we are dust." This spirit, modified by outward circumstances, is essentially, in all cases, the spirit of the Christian, and this is the nature of the Christian conflict.

Every man is conscious, from his personal observation and his own experience, that life is a battle-field. We see the indications of this conflict in our neighbors. Some are growing better. Their opinions upon all subjects are becoming more healthy. They are forsaking bad associates and influences for good ones.

26 PE ACTIO AL CHEISTIANITY.

We know that in their bosoms there is a double struggle, first against their own inward propensities, flesh warring against the spirit, and, secondly, the external struggle against companionship and habits. The ties which bind a man to his associates, his political partizanship, his habits of life, are often fearfully strong. It requires a struggle to sever these ties, and often great is the victory when it is accomplished.

There is a rich reward offered in this life, and a still richer reward in the life to come, to all who will contend manfully for that which is right and true. And there is ignominy in the desire to secure the reward of the victory without sharing the peril of the battle. No man would deem it honorable, on the field of earthly conflict, to feign sickness, to hide in his tent, to shelter himself from all danger while the battle raged, and then, so soon as the struggle is terminated, to steal from his hiding-place and claim his share of the rewards of a victory achieved entirely by the energies of others.

And can it then be honorable, in this great moral conflict, which is now shaking the world to its foundations — a conflict which requires the highest display of that moral courage^ which is an infinitely more rare and noble virtue than physical courage — can it be honorable for one

BEIXG A CHRISTIAN. 27

to refuse to take his share in the conflict, and yet be eager to grasp the rewards of the Christian victory — rewards which are the appropriate allotments of true and faithful soldiers of the Cross ?

" Sure I must fight if I vrould reign."

"When a man says that he will be a Christian, but that he will be one so secretly that no one will suspect it ; that he will not openly acknowledge the Savior ; that he will not take his position in the ranks where Christ's disciples stand, beneath the banner of the Cross, swept by the artillery of a hostile world, but that he will keep far from danger, and follow the army at a distance, so as to be ready to rush in after the battle is ended, and claim a share of the victory — there is, I say, in this a something which every mind of honorable instincts will declare to be ignoble.

A man of unusually energetic character was on his dying bed. From childhood he had enjoyed religious privileges, and yet had persistently rejected the Savior, at times with pretended skepticism. In the darkened chamber of death he was left companionless and comfortless. There was nothing in the past for him to reflect upon with pleasure, and the future was all gloom. His pastor called upon him and entreated him, even in this last, eleventh hour, to take refuge in the Savior. The dying man fixed his eyes upon his pastor and said, in words which Milton might well have put into the lips of some fallen son of the morn-

^'ISTo; it seems too contemptibly mean. When I might have been useful as a Christian, I would not be one. Now that I can do nothing, and am just going into eternity, to go to Christ merely to be saved seems too contemptihly 7)ieanP

There is a cross which every one who would be a Christian must take up. It is never the cross of self-imposed suffering, but the cross of patient submission or active duty. Papal Eome has imposed penances, pilgrimages, cloistered glooms, seclusion, mortifications of the flesh, flagellations, and has thus endeavored to soothe the cry of conscience. These self-inflicted tortures, doubtless, in many cases in the darker ages of the world, have been well intended, but they find no warrant in Scripture, and are abhorrent to reason.

The Flagellants of the Papal Church scourge themselves with keen cutting lashes until the blood drips from their shoulders ; but this is a

BEINa A CHRISTIAN. 29

cross man has imposed, not God. The cross ■which Christ enjoins us to take np is the cross of self-denial for the accomplishment of good.

The young man who has long lived without God, who has become intimately associated with irreligious companions, often finds that great self-denial is necessary to break away from those associates and to choose Christian friends. This, then, is the cross he must take up.

It requires no little self-sacrifice for him to appear before the Church and ask for admission ; to relate his Christian experience, in describing those dealings with him by which God has led him to the Savior ; and then, before the congregation, to make public profession of his faith in Christ, confessing that he is a sinner, that he is penitent for sin, and that he will endeavor henceforth to live a Christian life. This is the cross he must take up, alike useful to himself and" important in its influence upon others.

He attends a prayer-meeting. Perhaps not a few of his former companions are present to see if he will dare to pray before them, to speak as freely for Christ and religion as he has been accustomed to speak on other themes. It requires no little moral courage for him to be true to duty in such a presence. And yet a

80 PEACTICAL CHRISTIAlSriTY.

few words from his lips, thongli uttered with a stammering tongue ; a few petitions of prayer, though spoken in a voice choked and almost inaudible with emotion, will have more potency upon those hearts than even the most eloquent preaching of a Paul or an ApoUos. This is the cross he must take up." Is not the reason manifest ? It has been mainly by such influences that, through all time, the triumphs of Christianity have been achieved.

What a trial must it have been for Peter, the uneducated fisherman, to stand before all the learned men of ancient days, Eomans, Greeks, and Jews, urging the claims of a religion which most of them regarded with contempt. What a fearful trial of moral courage was Paul exposed to when, abandoning his old associates, among whom he had been a ringleader, he turned to men whom they regarded as ignorant and fanatical, and in market-places, in synagogues, in courts of justice, plead that cause which to the Jew was a stumbling-block, and to the Greek foolishness! Yet this was the cross he was to lift. Manfully he took it up.

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