75 Sermon Illustrations on Christian Character

There is something in the glow of precious stones that peculiarly fits them to serve for spiritual figures. There is about them a subtle light, — a brilliancy that burns without fire; that consumes nothing, and requires no supply; that forever shines without oil; that is ever-living, unwasting, unchanged by any of the natural elements. A diamond that glows in the sunlight flashes yet more beautifully in the night. No mould can get root upon it; no rust can tarnish it; no decay can waste it. The jewels that were buried two thousand years ago, if now dug up from royal and prizedly tombs, would come forth as fair and fresh as they were when the proud wearer first carried them in his diadem, — fit emblems by which to represent spiritual qualities, and the beauty and imperishableness of Christian virtue. And a company of holy men resting upon the Lord Jesus Christ may well be compared to a palace built upon broad foundations, and sparkling to the very summit with living stones, which throw back to the sun a differing flash through every hour of his rise or fall through the long day. Beecher.

Virtue alone is true nobility; therefore the most virtuous are the most noble. A virtuous friend should be esteemed above a vicious relation; for the ties of virtue are more binding than those of blood, and every good person is nearer related to another good person than he can possibly be to any of his immoral relations. Antisthenes.

Virtue, like fire, turns all things into itself: our actions and our friendships are tinctured with it, and whatever it touches becomes amiable. Seneca.

As a precious stone retains its value even when cast in the dust, so does the virtue of righteous men either in prison or in prosperity. As we eat nuts or fruit, using the kernel, but throwing the rind and shell away, so ought we to be in love with virtue, despising its shadow when separated from itself. As a body casts the least shadow at noon, so, the more virtue is in a man, the less ostentation and boasting will be observed in him. Cawdray.

To little minds alone is it necessary to recommend virtue by great names. If an action be not intrinsically good, the name of Socrates, of Cæsar, of Cato, or of Plato, can stamp no excellence on it; and, if a sentiment be false, it cannot be rendered otherwise by affixing a large number of the greatest names to it. Scraggs. Vows.

653

An old author says, "A good wife should be like three things; which three things she should not be like. First, she should be like a snail, to keep within her own house; but she should not be like the snail, to carry all she has upon her back. Secondly, she should be like an echo, to speak when spoken to; but she should not be like an echo, always to have the last word. Thirdly, she should be like a town-clock, always to keep time and regularity; but she should not, like a town-clock, speak so loud that all the town may hear her."

In the town of M—, N. Y., there lived an infidel who owned a sawmill, situated by the side of the highway, over which a large portion of a Christian congregation passed every Sabbath, in going to and returning from their place of worship. This infidel was accustomed to manage his mill himself, and having no regard for the Sabbath, he was as busy and his mill as noisy on that holy morning as any other. It was soon observed, however, that at a certain time before service this mill would stop and remain silent, and appear to be destitute of the presence of any human being for a few minutes, then pass on with its noise and clatter till about the close of service, when it again ceased for a little time. It was soon noticed that Deacon B—passed the mill toward the place of worship, during the silent interval. It appeared that the Deacon being (as all other good deacons are) regular in his time, the infidel knew just when to stop nis mill, so that it should be silent while Deacon B— was passing, although he paid no regard to the passing of others. On being inquired of, why he paid this marked respect to Deacon B—,

### 102. CONSII

Dr. Cotton Mather was remarkable for the sweetness of his temper. He took some interest in the political concerns of his country and on this account, as well as because he faithfully reproved iniquity, he had many enemies. Many abusive letters were sent him, all of which he tied up in a packet, and wrote upon the cover, "Libels;—Father forgive them."

Philip, king of Macedon, discovered great moderation, even when he was spoken to in shocking and injurious terms. At the close of an audience which he gave to some Athenian ambassadors who were come to complain of some act of hostility, he asked whether he could do them any service. "The greatest service thou couldst do us," said Demochares, "would be to hang thyself." Philip, though he perceived all the persons present were highly offended at these words, answered with the utmost calmness of temper, "Go, tell your superiors, that those who dare make use of such insolent language, are more haughty, and less peaceably inclined than those who can forgive them."

The Rev. Robert Hall had so great an aversion to every species of falsehood and evasion, that he sometimes expressed himself very strongly on the subject. The following is an instance, stated in his life by Dr. Gregory: Once, while he was spending an evening at the house of a friend, a lady, who was there on a visit, retired, that her little girl of four to lay aside their arms, to wear long vests and buskins, that is, to vie with each other in the elegance and richness of their dress. Order them to drink, and sing, and play, and you will soon see their spirits broken, and themselves changed to the effeminacy of women, so that they will no more rebel, nor give you further uneasiness." The advice was followed, and the result proved how politic it was. While the advice is such as no good man could consistently follow, the incident shows the deteriorating influence of luxury in a very striking light.

BOOK.—A gentlemen jumping from an omnibus In the city of New-York, dropped his pocket-book, and had gone some distance before he discovered its loss; then hastily returning, inquired of every passenger whom he met, if a pocket-book had been seen. Finally, meeting a little girl of ten years old, to whom he made the same inquiry, she asked, "what kind of a pocket-book?" He described it—then unfolding her apron, "Is this it?" "Yes, that is mine; come into this store with me." They entered, he opened the book, counted the notes, and examined the papers. "They are all right," said he; "fifteen notes of a thousand dollars each; had they fallen into other hands, I might never have seen them again; take then, my little girl, this note of a thousand dollars, as a reward for your honesty, and a lesson to me, to be more careful in future." "No," said the girl, "I cannot take it; I have been taught at Sunday school not to keep what is not mine, and my parents would not be pleased if I took the note home, they might suppose I had stolen it." "Well, then, my girl, show me where your parents live." The girl took him to an humble tenement in an obscure street, rude, but cleanly; he informed the parents of the case; they told him their child had acted correctly. They were poor, it was true, but their pastor had always told them not to set their hearts on rich gifts. The gentleman told them they must take it, and he was convinced they would make a good use of it, from the principle they had professed.

The pious parents then blessed their benefactor, for such he proved, they paid their debts which had disturbed their peace, and the benevolent giver furnished him employment in his occupation, as a carpenter, enabling him to rear an industrious family in comparative happiness. This little girl became the wife of a respectable tradesman of New-York, and had reason to rejoice that she was born of pious parents, who had secured their daughter's happiness by sending her to Sunday school.

A merchant in London had a dispute with a quaker respecting the settlement of an account. The merchant was determined to bring the account into court, a proceeding which the quaker earnestly deprecated, using every argument in his power to convince the merchant of his error; but the latter was inflexible. Desirous to make a last effort, the quaker called at his house one morning, and inquired of the servant if his master was at home, the merchant hearing the inquiry, and knowing the voice, called out from the top of the stairs, "Tell that rascal I am not at home." The quaker looking up at him, calmly said, "Well, friend, God put thee in a better mind." The merchant, struck afterwards with the meekness of the reply, and having more deliberately investigated the matter, became convinced that the quaker was right and he was wrong. He requested to see him, and after acknowledging his error, he said, "I have one question to ask you, how were you able, with such patience, on various occasions, to bear my abuse?" "Friend," replied the quaker, "I will tell thee; I was naturally as hot and violent as thou art. I knew that to indulge this temper was sinful; and I found that it was imprudent. I observed that men in a passion always spake aloud; and I thought if I could control my voice, I should repress my passion. I have, therefore, made it a rule, never to let my voice rise above a certain key; and by a careful observance of this rule, I have, by the blessing of God, entirely mastered my natural temper." The quaker reasoned philosophically, and the merchant, as every one else may do, benefitted by his example.