Chapter V: Part 5

And to those of you who have the care of the younger boys, let me say: remember, they have no mothers here; they are very young to send from home; they are homesick at times; they hardly know how to behave themselves; they shock your sense of delicacy; they worry and vex you almost to distraction; but bear with them, help them, encourage them, love them, for if _you_ do not, who will? And what will become of them? And remember what a glorious work it is to lift such a young life out of its rudeness, its ignorance, its untidiness, and make a real man of it. Oh! friends, suffer these words of exhortation, for they come from one who has a deep sympathy with you in your arduous, self-denying work.

And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it from
whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was
found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great,
stand before God; and the books were opened; and another book
was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged
out of those things which were written in the books, according
to their works. And the sea gave up the dead that were in it;
and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them;
and they were judged every man according to his works――Rev. xx.
11–13.

THANKSGIVING DAY.

November 29, 1888.

The President of the United States, in a proclamation which you have just heard, has set apart this 29th day of November for a day of thanksgiving and prayer, for the great mercies which the Almighty has given to the people of our country, and for a continuance of these mercies. His example has been followed by the governors of Pennsylvania and many, if not all, of the States, and we may therefore believe that all over the land, from Maine to Alaska, and from the great lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, the people in large numbers are now gathered or gathering in their places of worship, in obedience to this proper recommendation. The directors of this college, in full sympathy with the thoughts of our rulers, have closed your schools to-day, released you from the duty of study, gathered you in this chapel, and asked you to unite with the people generally in giving thanks to God for the past, and imploring his mercies for the future. For you are a part of the people, and although not yet able, from your minority, to take an active part in the government, are yet being rapidly prepared for this great right of citizenship. It is the high privilege of an American boy, to know that when he becomes a man he will have just as clear a right as any other man, to exercise all the functions of a freeman, in choosing the men who are to be intrusted with the responsibilities of government. What are some of the things that give us cause for thankfulness to Almighty God? Very briefly such as these:

1. _This is a Christian country._ Although there is not, and cannot be, any part or branch of the church established by law, there is assured liberty for every citizen to worship God by himself, or with others in congregations, as he or they may choose, in such forms of worship as may be preferred, with none to molest or make afraid. Here is absolute freedom of worship. And even if it be that the name of God is not in our Constitution, nevertheless no president or governor or public officer can be inducted or inaugurated in high office except by taking oath on the book of God, and as in his presence, that he will faithfully discharge the duties of his office. If there were nothing else, this public acknowledgment of the being of Almighty God and our accountability to him gives us an unquestioned right to call ourselves a Christian people.

2. _This is a free government_, free in the sense that the people choose their own rulers, whether of towns, cities, States, or the nation. There is no hereditary rule here, and cannot be. We not only _choose_ our own rulers, but when we are dissatisfied with them for whatever cause, we dismiss them. And the minority accept the decision when it is ascertained, without doubt, without a question of its righteousness; they only want to know whether the majority have actually chosen this or that candidate, and they accept frankly, if not cheerfully. We have had a splendid illustration of this within this present month. The great party that has administered the government for four years past, on the verdict of the majority, are preparing to retire and will retire on the fourth of March next, and give up the government to the other great party, its victorious rival. Nowhere else in the world can such a revolution be accomplished on so grand a scale, by so many people, with so little friction. This government then is better than _any monarchy_, no matter how carefully guarded by constitutional restrictions and safeguards. The best monarchical governments are in Europe: the best of all in England; but the governments of Europe have many and great concessions to make to the people, before they can stand side by side with the United States in strong, healthy, considerate management of the people. It has been said that the best machinery is that which has the least friction, and as the time passes, we may hope that our machinery of government will be so smooth that the people will hardly know that they are governed at all; in fact, they will be their own governors. This time is coming as sure as Christmas, though not so close at hand, and you boys can hasten it by your own upright, manly bearing when you come to be men. Never forget that this is a government of the majority, and you must see to it that the majority be true men.

3. _We are separated by wide oceans from the rest of the world._ The Atlantic separates us from Europe on the east; the Gulf of Mexico from South America on the south, and the great Pacific ocean washes our western shores. We are a continent to ourselves, with the exception of Mexico, a sister republic on the south, with whom we are not likely to quarrel again, and the Dominion of Canada on the north, which, if never to become a part of ourselves, will at least at some day, and probably not a very distant day, become independent of the mother country as we did, though not at the great cost at which we obtained our freedom. Our distance from Europe relieves us entirely from the consideration of subjects which occupy most of the time of their statesmen, and which very often thrill the rest of the world in the apprehension of a general war in Europe. We are under no necessity of annexing other territory. We are not afraid of what is called “the balance of power;” we have no army that is worthy of the name, because we don’t need one, and we can make one if we should need it; and we have no navy to speak of, though I think we ought to have for the protection of our commerce, when our commerce shall be further encouraged. We have no entanglements with other nations; the great father of his country in his Farewell Address warned the people against this danger.

4. _Our country is very large._ You school-boys can tell me as well as I can tell you what degrees of latitude and longitude we reach, and how many millions of square miles we count. Europeans say we brag too much about the great extent of our country; but I do not refer to it now for boasting, but as a matter of thankfulness to God for giving it to us. It means that our territory, reaching from the Arctic to the tropics, gives us every variety of climate and almost every variety of product that the earth produces; and I am sure that the time will come when, under a higher agricultural cultivation than we have yet reached, our soil will produce everything that grows anywhere else in the world. The corn harvest now being gathered in our country will reach _two thousand millions of bushels_. The mind staggers under such ponderous figures and quantities. Our wheat fields are hardly less productive; our potatoes and rice and oats and barley and grass, the products of our cattle and sheep, and, in short, everything that our soil above ground yields; and the enormous yield of our coal mines, our oil wells, our natural gas, our metals, our railroads, spanning the entire continent and binding the people together with bands of steel――all these, and many others, which time will not permit me even to mention, give some faint idea of what a splendid country it is that the Almighty God has given to the American people. And do we not well therefore, when we come together on a day like this, to make our acknowledgments to Him?

5. _The general education of the people_ is another reason for thankfulness to God. The system is not yet universal, but it will be at no distant day. You boys will live to see the day when every man, woman and child born in the United States (except those who are too young or feeble-minded) will be able to read and write and cipher. It is sure to come. Then, under the blessing of God, when people learn to do their own reading and thinking, we shall not fear anarchists and atheists and the many other fools who, under one name or another, are now trying to make this people discontented with their lot. There is no need for such people here, and no place for them; they have made a mistake in coming to this free land, as some of them found to their cost on the gallows at Chicago.

6. _We have no war in our country, no famine, and with the exception of poor Jacksonville, Florida, no pestilence._ Famine we have never known, and with such an extent of country we have little need to dread such a scourge as that. No one need suffer for food in our country, and this is the only country in the world of which this can be said; for labor of some kind can always be found, and food is so cheap, plain kinds of food, that none but the utterly dissipated and worthless need starve; and in fact none do starve; for if they are so wretchedly improvident, the guardians of the poor will save them from suffering not only, but actually provide them with a home, that for real comfort is not known elsewhere in the world.

Some of us have seen war in its most dreadful proportions, but even then the alleviations furnished by the Christian Commission greatly relieved some of its most horrid features; and we are not likely to see war again, for there will be hereafter nothing to quarrel and fight about. Our political differences will never again lead to the taking up of arms in deadly strife.

Such are some of the occasions of thankfulness which led the President of the United States to ask the people, by public proclamation, to turn aside for one day from their business, their farms, their workshops, their counting-houses, to close the schools, and assemble in their places of worship and thank God, the giver of every good and perfect gift.

But I don’t think the President of the United States knew what special reasons the Girard College boys have to keep a thanksgiving day. And I shall try in what I have yet to say to point out some of them.

1. This foundation is under the control of the Board of City Trusts. When Mr. Girard left the bulk of his great estate for this noble purpose, he gave it to the “mayor, aldermen and citizens of Philadelphia,” as his trustees. The city of Philadelphia could act only through its legislative body, the select and common councils, bodies elected by the people, and consequently more or less under the influence of one or the other of the great political parties. Nearly twenty years ago, owing largely to Mr. William Welsh, who became the first President of the Board of City Trusts, the legislature of Pennsylvania took from the control of councils all the charitable trusts of the city and committed them to this board. If any political influences were ever unworthily exerted in the former board it ceased when the judges of the city of Philadelphia and the judges of the Supreme Court named the first directors of the City Trusts. These directors are all your friends; they give much thought, much labor, much anxiety to your well-being, desiring to do the best things that are possible to be done for your welfare, and to do them in the best way. Many of them have been successful in finding desirable situations for such of your number as were prepared to accept such places. I am glad to say that I have three college boys associated with me in my business; Mr. Stuart had two; Mr. Michener has two; General Wagner has two, and Mr. Rawle has had one, and probably other members of the board have also, so you see our interest in you is not limited to the time which we spend here and in the office on South Twelfth street, but we are ever on the lookout for things which we hope may be to your advantage.

2. This splendid estate, which you enjoy; these beautiful buildings, which were erected for your use; these grounds, which are so well kept and which are so attractive to you and to the thousands of visitors that come here; these school-rooms, which we determine shall lack nothing that is desirable to make them what they ought to be; the text-books which you use in school, the best that can be found; the teachers, the most accomplished and skilful that can be procured; the prefects and governesses chosen from among many applicants, and because they are supposed to be the best, all your care-takers; all who have to do with you here are chosen because they are supposed to be well qualified to discharge their duties most successfully. The arrangements for your lodging in the dormitories, the furniture and food of your tables, the well-equipped infirmary for the sick, are such as, in the judgment of the trustees, the great founder himself would approve if he could be consulted. Truly, this gives occasion for special thanksgiving on this Thanksgiving Day.

3. _You all have a birthright._

What that meant in the earliest times we do not fully know; but it meant at least to be the head or father of the family, a sort of domestic priesthood, the chief of the tribe, or the head of a great nation. In our own times, in Great Britain the first-born son has by right of birth the headship of the family, inheriting the principal part of the property, and he is the representative of the estate. They call it there the _law of primogeniture_, or the law of the first-born. In our country there is no birthright in families, and we have no law to make the eldest born in any respect more favored than the other and younger children.

But you Girard boys have a birthright which means a great deal. The founder of this great school left the bulk of his large estate to the city of Philadelphia, for the purpose of adopting and educating a certain class of boys, very particularly described, to which you belong. The provision he made for you was most liberal. Everything that his trustees consider necessary for your careful support and thorough education is to be provided. Nothing is to be wanting which money wisely expended can supply. _This is your birthright._ No earthly power can take it from you without your consent. No commercial distress, no financial panic, no change of political rulers, no combination of party politics can interfere with the purpose of the founder. Nothing but the loss of health or life, or your own misconduct, can deprive you of this great birthright. Do you boys fully appreciate this?

Now, is it to be supposed that there is a boy here who is willing to _sell_ this birthright as Esau did?

Is there a boy here who is corrupt in heart, so profane and foul in speech, so vicious in character, so wicked in behavior, as to be an unfit companion for his schoolmates, and who cannot be permitted to remain among them? Is there a boy here who, for the gratification of a vicious appetite, will _sell_ that privilege of support and education so abundantly provided here? So guarded is this trust, so sacred almost, that no human being can take it away from you: will you deliberately _throw it away_? The wretched Esau, in the old Jewish history, under the pressure of hunger and faintness, sold his birthright with all its invaluable privileges; will you, with no such temptation as tried him, with no temptation but the perverseness of your own will and your love of self-indulgence, will you _sell your birthright_? Bitterly did Esau regret his folly; earnestly did he try to recover what he had lost, but it was too late; he never did recover his lost birthright, though he sought it carefully and with tears. And he had no one to warn him beforehand as I am warning you.

Boys, if you pass through this college course not making the best use of your time, or if you allow yourselves to fall into such evil habits as will make it necessary to send you away from the college――and this after all the kind words that have been spoken to you and the faithful warnings that have been given you――you will lose that which can never be restored to you, which can never be made up to you in any other way elsewhere. You will prove yourselves more foolish, more wicked than Esau, for you will lose more than he did, and you will do it against kinder remonstrances than he had.

4. There is another feature of the management here which gives especial satisfaction. When a boy leaves the college to go to a place which has been chosen for him, or which he has found by his own exertions, he is looked after until he reaches the age of twenty-one, by an officer especially appointed, and as we believe well adapted to that service. And many a boy who has found himself in unfavorable circumstances and under hard task-masters, with people who have no sympathy with his youth and inexperience, many such have been visited and encouraged, helped and so assisted towards true success.

5. But what is there to make each particular boy thankful to-day? Why you are all in good health; and if you would know how much that means go to the infirmary and see the sick boys there, who are not able to be in the chapel to-day, not able to be in the play-grounds, who are looking out of the windows with wistful eyes, very much desiring to be with you and enjoying your plays but cannot. God bless them.

You are all comfortably clothed; those of you who are less robust have warmer clothing, and all of you are shielded and guarded as well as the trustees know how to care for you, so that you may be trained to be strong men.

You are all having a holiday; no school to-day; no shop-work to-day; no paying marks to-day; no punishments of any kind to-day. Why? It is Thanksgiving Day and everything that is disagreeable is put out of sight and ought to be put out of mind.

You are all to have a good dinner. Even now, while we are here in the chapel and while some of you are growing impatient at my speech, think of the good dinner that is now cooking for you. Think of the roast turkey, the cranberry sauce, the piping-hot potatoes, the gravy, the dressing, the mince pies, the apples afterwards, and all the other good things which make your mouths water, and make my mouth water even to mention the names. Then after dinner you go to your homes, and you have a good time there.

The last thing I mention which you ought to be thankful for is having a short speech.

ON THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT ALLEN.

September 24, 1882.

“_Remember how He spake unto you._”

These are the words of an angel. They were spoken in the early morning while it was yet dark, to frightened and sorrowful women, who had gone to the sepulchre of Christ with spices and ointments to embalm his body. These women fully expected to find the body of their Lord; for as they went they said, “Who shall roll us away the stone from the sepulchre?” When they reached the place, they found the stone was rolled away and the grave was empty. And one of them ran back to the disciples to tell them that the grave was open and the body gone. Those that remained went into the sepulchre and saw two men in glittering garments, who, seeing that the women were perplexed and afraid, standing with bowed heads and startled looks, said, with a shade of reproof in their tone, “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, he is risen.” And, perhaps, seeing that the women could hardly believe this, it was added, “Remember how he spake unto you when he was yet in Galilee, saying, ‘The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.’”

The words that are quoted as having been spoken by Jesus to his disciples were spoken in Galilee six months or more before this, and as they were not clearly understood at the time, it is not so very strange that they should have been forgotten.

It had been well if these sorrowing women, as well as the other disciples of the Lord, had remembered other words, and all the words that the Lord spake to them, not only while in Galilee, but in all other places. The world would be better to-day if those gracious words had been more carefully laid to heart.

I hope the words of my text will bear, without too much accommodation, the use which I shall make of them.

Almost three-quarters of a century ago, a boy was born in the family of a New England farmer. It was in the then territory of Maine, and near the little city of Augusta. The family were plain, poor people, and the child grew up, as many other farmers’ children grew up, accustomed to plain living and such work as children could properly be set to do. In the winter he went to school, as well as at other times when the farm work was not pressing. It would be very interesting to know, if we _could_ know, whether there was anything peculiar in the early disposition and habits of this boy, or whether he grew up with nothing to distinguish him from his playmates. If we could only know what children would grow up to be distinguished men, we should, I think, be very careful to observe and record any little traits and peculiarities of their early childhood. The boy of whom I am speaking, and whom you know to be William Henry Allen, seems to have been prepared at the academy for college, which he entered at the advanced age of twenty-one years. Four years after, he was graduated, and at once he set out to teach the classics in a little town in the interior of the State of New York. While engaged in that seminary, he was called to a professorship in Dickinson College, at Carlisle, in our own State of Pennsylvania. In Dickinson College he held successively the chairs of chemistry and the natural sciences, and that of English literature, until his resignation, in 1850, to accept the presidency of Girard College.

From this time until his death, except during an interval of five years, his life was spent here. For twenty-seven years he gave himself to the work of organizing and directing the internal affairs of this college, with an interest and efficiency which, until within the last year, never flagged. It is not possible at this day for any of us to appreciate the difficulties he had to encounter in the early days of the college, but we do know that he did the work well.

See how he was prepared for the work he did. He was a lover of study. When only eight years old he had learned the English grammar so well that his teacher said he could not teach him anything further in that study. There was an old family Bible that was very highly prized by all the family, and his father told him that if he would read that Bible through by the time he was ten years old, it should be his property. The boy did so, and claimed and received his reward. That book is now in the possession of his daughter (Mrs. Sheldon). This early reading of the Bible will, perhaps, account for President Allen’s unusual familiarity with the Scriptures, as evinced in the richness of his prayers in this school chapel.

The school to which he went in his early youth was three miles from his father’s house; and in all kinds of weather, through the heats of summer and the deep snows of winter, he plodded his way.

I have said that his parents were not rich; and this young man pushed his way through college by teaching, thus earning the money necessary for his support. This may account for the fact that he entered college at the age when most young men are leaving it, viz., twenty-one years. It did not seem to him that it was a great misfortune to be poor; but it was an additional inducement to call forth all his powers to insure success. He knew that he must depend upon himself if he would succeed in life. And so he was not satisfied with qualifying himself for one chair in a college, but, as at Dickinson, he held two or three chairs. He could teach the classics or mathematics or general literature, or chemistry or natural sciences. Not many men had qualities so diversified, or knew so well how to put them to good account. You know very well that this liberal culture was not acquired without hard work. And this hard work he must have done in early life, before cares and duties crowded him, as they will absorb all of us the older we grow.

“Remember how He spake unto you.” I would give these words a two-fold meaning――remember _what_ he said and _how_ he said it.

Twenty-seven years is a long time in the life of any man, even if he has lived more than three-score years and ten. In all these years President Allen was going in and out before the college boys, saying good and kind words to them.

How often he spoke to you in the chapel! It was _your church_, and the only church that you could attend, except on holidays. His purpose was that this chapel service should be worthy of you, and worthy of the day. So important did he consider it, that when his turn came to speak to you here, he prepared himself carefully. He always wrote his little discourses, and the best thoughts of his mind and heart he put into them. He thought that nothing that he or any other speaker could bring was too good for you.

And then the tones of his voice, the manner of his instruction; how gentle, kind, conciliating. He remembered the injunction of Scripture, “The servant of the Lord must not strive.” You will never know in this life how much he bore from you, how long he bore with your waywardness, your thoughtlessness; how much he loved you. He always called you “his boys.” No matter though some of you are almost men, he always called you “his boys,” much as the apostle John in his later years called his disciples his “little children.” For President Allen felt that in a certain sense he was a father to you all.

For some time past you knew that his health was declining. You saw his bowed form and his feeble, hesitating steps. In the chapel his voice was tremulous and feeble. The boys on the back benches could not always understand his words distinctly. But you knew that he was in earnest in all that he did say. And for many months he was not able to speak at all in the chapel. On the last Founder’s Day he was seated in a chair, with some of his family about him, looking at the battalion boys as they were drilled, but the fatigue was too great for him. And as the summer advanced into August, and the people in his native State were gathering their harvests, he, too, was gathered, as a shock of corn fully ripe.

When Tom Brown heard of the death of his old master, Arnold of Rugby, he was fishing in Scotland. It was read to him from a newspaper. He at once dropped everything and started for the old school. He was overwhelmed with distress. “When he reached the station he went at once to the school. At the gates he made a dead pause; there was not a soul in the quadrangle, all was lonely and silent and sad; so with another effort he strode through the quadrangle, and into the school-house offices. He found the little matron in her room, in deep mourning; shook her hand, tried to talk, and moved nervously about. She was evidently thinking of the same subject as he, but he couldn’t begin talking. Then he went to find the old verger, who was sitting in his little den, as of old.

“‘Where is he buried, Thomas?’

“‘Under the altar in the chapel, sir,’ answered Thomas. ‘You’d like to have the key, I dare say.’

“‘Thank you, Thomas; yes, I should, very much.’

“‘Then,’ said Thomas, ‘perhaps you’d like to go by yourself, sir?’”

“So he walked to the chapel door and unlocked it, fancying himself the only mourner in all the broad land, and feeding on his own selfish sorrow.

“He passed through the vestibule and then paused a moment to glance over the empty benches. His heart was still proud and high, and he walked up to the seat which he had last occupied as a sixth-form boy, and sat down there to collect his thoughts. The memories of eight years were all dancing through his brain, while his heart was throbbing with a dull sense of a great loss that could never be made up to him. The rays of the evening sun came solemnly through the painted windows over his head and fell in gorgeous colors on the opposite wall, and the perfect stillness soothed his spirit. And he turned to the pulpit and looked at it; and then leaning forward, with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. ‘If he could have only seen the doctor for one five minutes, have told him all that was in his heart, what he owed him, how he loved and reverenced him, and would, by God’s help, follow his steps in life and death, he could have borne it all without a murmur. But that he should have gone away forever, without knowing it all, was too much to bear.’ ‘But am I sure that he does not know it all?’ The thought made him start. ‘May he not even now be near me in this chapel?’”

And with some such feelings as these I suppose many a boy will come back to the college and stand in this chapel, and recall the impressions he has received from President Allen here. But his voice will never be heard here again. Nothing remains but to “remember how he spake unto you.”

I am sure you will never forget the day he lay in his coffin in the chapel, and you all looked on his face for the last time. What could be more impressive than the funeral? The crowded house, the waiting people, the bowed heads, the solemn strains of the organ, the sweet voices of children singing their beautiful hymns, the open coffin, the appropriate address given by one of his own college boys, the thousand and more boys standing in open ranks for the procession to pass through to the college gates, the burial at Laurel Hill cemetery, where many of his pupils already lie, and where many more will follow him in the coming years――all these thoughts make that funeral day one long to be remembered.

Let us accept this as the will of Providence. There is nothing to regret for him; but for us, the void left by his withdrawal. He is leading a better life now than ever before. He has just begun to live, and the best words I can say to you are, “remember how he spake unto you.”

* * * * *

“But when the warrior dieth,
His comrades in the war
With arms reversed and muffled drums
Follow the funeral car.
They show the banners taken,
They tell his battles won,
And after him lead his masterless steed,
While peals the minute gun.

“Amid the noblest of the land
Men lay the _sage_ to rest,
And give the _bard_ an honored place,
With costly marble drest,
In the great Minster transept
Where lights like glories fall,
And the choir sings and the organ rings
Along the emblazoned wall.”

A YOUNG MAN’S MESSAGE TO BOYS.

December 7, 1884.

When I came here in April last I brought with me some friends, among whom was my son. And I said to him that some day I should wish _him_ to speak to you. He had so recently been a college boy himself, graduating at the University of Pennsylvania, and he was so fond of the games and plays of boys, and withal was so deeply interested in boys and young men, that I thought he might be able to say something that would interest you, and perhaps do you good.

At a recent meeting of the proper committee his name was added to the list of persons who may be invited to speak to you. The last time I was at the college President Fetterolf asked me when my son could come to address you, and I replied that he was sick.

That sickness was far more serious than any of us supposed; there was no favorable change, and at the end of twelve days he passed away.

My suggestion that he might be invited to speak here led him to prepare a short address, which was found among his papers, and has, within a few days, been handed to me. It was written with lead pencil, apparently hastily; and certainly lacking the final revision, which in copying for delivery he would have given it.

I have thought it would be well for me to read to you this address; but I did not feel that I had any right to revise it, or to make any change in it whatever; so I give it precisely as he wrote it, adding only a word here and there which was omitted in the hurried writing.

He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that
ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.――Proverbs xvi.
32.

I want you to look with me at the latter part of each of these sentences, and see if we can’t understand a little better what Solomon meant by such words “_the mighty_” and “_he that taketh a city_.”

Do you remember the wonderful dream that came to Solomon just after he had been made king over Israel? How God came to him while he was sleeping and said to him, “Ask what I shall give thee,” and how Solomon, without any hesitation, asked for wisdom. And God gave him wisdom, so that he became famous far and wide, and people from nations far off came to see him and learn of him.

If I were to ask you now who was the wisest man that ever lived, you would say “Solomon.” Often you have heard one person say of another, “he is as wise as Solomon.” I cannot stop here to tell you of the way in which Solomon showed this wonderful gift. But his knowledge was not that of books, because there were not a great many books then for him to read. It was the knowledge which showed him how to do _right_, and how to be a _good ruler_ over his people. And because he chose such wisdom, the very best gift of God, God gave him besides, riches and everything that he could possibly desire. His horses and chariots were the most beautiful and the strongest; his armies were famous everywhere for their splendid arms and armor. He had vast numbers of servants to wait upon him, and to do his slightest wish. Presents, most magnificent, were sent to him by the kings of all the nations round about him. No king of Israel before or after him was so great and so powerful. And, greatest honor of all, God permitted him to build a temple for him――what his father David had so longed to do and was not allowed, God directed Solomon to do. David’s greatest desire before he died was to build a house for God. The ark of God had never had a house to rest in, and David was not satisfied to have a splendid palace to live in himself, and to have nothing but a _tent_ in which to keep God’s ark. But God would not suffer him to do that, although he was the king whom he loved so much. No, that must be kept for his son Solomon to do. David had been too great a fighter all his life; he had been at war; he had driven back his enemies on all sides, and had made God’s people a nation to be feared by all their foes. So David was a “mighty man,” and while Solomon was growing up he must have heard every one talking of the wonderful things his father had done from his youth up――the adventures he had had when he was only a poor shepherd lad keeping his flocks on the hills about Bethlehem. And how often must he have been told that splendid story, which we never grow tired of hearing, of his fight with the giant Goliath; and when he was shown the huge pieces of armor, and the great sword and spear, he surely knew what it was for a man to be “mighty” and “great.” And when his old father withdrew from the throne and made him king, he found himself surrounded on all sides with the results of his father’s wars and conquests, and soon knew that he also was “a mighty man.”

There is not a boy here who does not want to be “great.” Every one of you wants to make a name for himself, or have something, or do something, that will be remembered long after he is dead.

If I should ask you what that something is, I suppose almost all of you would say, “I want to be rich, so rich that I can do whatever I like; that I need not do any work; that I can go where I please.” Some of you would say, “I would travel all over the world and write about what I see, so that long after I am dead people will read my books and say, ‘what a great man he was!’” Some of you would say, “I would build great houses, and fill them with all the richest and most beautiful goods. I would have whole fleets of ships, sailing to all parts of the world, bringing back wonderful things from strange countries; and when I would meet people in the street they would stand aside to let me pass, saying to one another, ‘there goes a great man; he is our richest merchant; how I should like to be as great as he.’”

And still another would say: “I don’t care anything about books or beautiful merchandise. No, I’ll go into foreign countries and become a great fighter, and I shall conquer whole nations, so that my enemies shall be afraid of me, and I shall ride at the head of great armies, and when I come home again the people will give me a grand reception; will make arches across the street, and cover their houses with flags, and as I ride along the street the air will be filled with cheers for the great general.”

And so each one of you would tell me of some way in which he would like to be great. I should think very little of the boy who had no ambition, one who would be entirely content to just get along somehow, and never care for any great success so long as he had enough to eat and drink and to clothe himself with, and who would never look ahead to set his mind on obtaining some great object. It is perfectly right and proper to be ambitious, to try and make as much as possible of every opportunity that is presented. No one can read that parable of the master who called his servants to account for the talents he had given them, and not see that God gives us all the blessings and advantages that we have, in order that we may have an opportunity to put them to such good use, that He may say to us as the master in the parable said to his servants, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

So it is right for you to want to be great, and I want to try and tell you how to accomplish it. If you were sure that I could tell you the real secret of success you would listen very carefully to what I had to say, wouldn’t you? Some of you would even write down what I said. Then write _this_ down in your hearts; for, following this, you will be greater than “the mighty:” “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.” Are some of you disappointed? do you say, “_Is that all?_ I thought he was about to tell us how we could make lots of money.” Ah, if you would only believe it, and follow such advice, such a plan were to be far richer than the man who can count his wealth by millions. But look at it in another way. What sort of a boy do you choose for the captain of a base-ball nine or a foot-ball team? What sort of a _man_ is chosen for a high position? Is he one who loses all control over himself when something happens to vex him, and flies into a terrible passion when some one happens to oppose him? No; the one you would select for any place of great responsibility is he who can keep his head clear, who will not permit himself to get angry at any little vexation, who rules his own spirit――and can there be anything harder to do? I tell you “no.”

So, I have told you how to be successful, and at the same time I tell you, there is nothing harder to do; and now I go on still further, and say you can’t follow such advice by yourself, you must have some help. Is it hard to get? No, it is offered to you freely; you are urged to ask for it, and you are assured that it is certain to come to all who want it. Will such help be sufficient? Much more than sufficient, for He who shall help you is abundantly able to give you more than you ask or think. It is God who tells you to come to him, and he shall make you more than “the mighty,” greater than he which taketh the city; yes, for the greatness he shall bestow upon those who come to him is far above all earthly greatness. He shall be with you when you are ready to fly into a furious temper, when you lift your hand to strike, when you would _kill_ if you were not afraid; but when the wish is in your heart, yes, then, even then, He is beside you. He looks upon you in divine mercy, and if you will only let him, will rebuke the foul spirit and command him to come out of you, and your whole soul shall be filled with peace. Why won’t you listen to his pleading voice, and let him quiet the dreadful storm of anger? And when the hot words fly to your lips, remember his soft answer that turns away wrath. Then will you have won a greater battle than any ever fought; for you will have conquered your own wicked spirit, and by God’s grace you are a conqueror. And the reward for a life of such self-conquest shall be a crown of life that fadeth not away. Won’t you accept _such_ greatness?

* * * * *

Such are the words he would have spoken to you had his life been spared; and he would have spoken them with the great advantage of a _young man_ speaking to _young men_. Now they seem like a message from the heavenly world. It is more than probable that in copying for delivery he would have expanded some of the thoughts and have made the little address more complete. Perhaps it would be better for me to stop here; ... but there are a few words which I would like to say, and it may be that they can be better said now than at any other time.

I want to say again, what I have so often said, that a boy may be fond of all innocent games and plays and yet be a Christian. Some of you may doubt this. You may believe and say, that religion interferes with amusements and makes life gloomy. Here is an example of the contrary; for I do not see how there _could_ be a happier life than my son’s (there never was a shadow upon it), and no one could be more fond of base-ball and foot-ball and cricket and tennis than he was; and yet he was a simple-hearted Christian boy and young man. And with all this love of innocent pleasure and fun he neglected no business obligations, nor did he fail in any of the duties of social or family life. In short, I can wish no better thing for you boys than that your lives may be as happy and as beautiful as his was.

A TRUTHFUL CHARACTER.

April, 1889.

Can anything be more important to a young life than truthfulness? Is character worth anything at all if it is not founded on truth? And are not the temptations to untruthfulness in heart and life constantly in your path?

It is most interesting to think that every life here is an individual life, having its own history, and in many respects unlike every other life. When I see you passing through these grounds, going in procession to and from your school-rooms, your dining halls and your play-grounds, the question often arises in my thoughts, how many of these boys are walking in the truth?

If I were looking for a boy to fill any position within my gift, or within the reach of my influence, and should seek such a boy among you, I should ask most carefully of those who know you best, whether such and such a boy were truthful; and not in speech merely (that is, does he answer questions truthfully), but is he open and frank in his life? Does he cheat in his lessons or in his games? Does he shirk any duty that is required of him in the shops? When he fails to recite his lessons accurately, is he very ready with his excuses trying to justify himself for his failure, or does he admit candidly that he did not do his best, and does he promise sincerely to do better in the future? And is he one who may be depended upon to give a fair account of any incident that may come up for investigation? Sometimes there are wrong things done here, done from thoughtlessness often; may such a boy as I am looking for be depended upon to say what he knows about it, in a manly way, so as to screen the innocent, and, if necessary, expose the guilty? In other words, is he trustworthy, worthy of trust, can he be depended on?

It may not be easy for one at my time of life to say just what a boy ought to be, if he is to make much of a man. But we who think much of this subject have an idea of what we would like the boys to be, in whom we are especially interested. And if I borrow from another a description of what I mean, it is because this author has said it better than I can.

“A real boy should be generous, courteous among his friends and among his school-fellows; respectful to his superiors, well-mannered. He must avoid loud talk and rough ways; must govern his tongue and his temper; must listen to advice and reproof with humility. He must be a gentleman. He must not be a sneak or a bully; he must neither cringe to the strong nor tyrannize over the weak. To his teachers he must be obedient, for they have a right to require obedience of him; he must be respectful, because the true gentleman always respects those who are wiser, more experienced, better informed than himself. He must apply himself to his lessons with a single aim, seeking knowledge for its own sake, and earnestly striving to make the best possible use of such faculties as God has given him. He must do his best to store his mind with high thoughts by a careful study of all that is beautiful and pure. In his sports and plays he must seek to excel, if excellence can be obtained by a moderate amount of time and energy; but he must remember, that though it is a fine thing to have a healthy body and a healthy mind, it is neither necessary nor admirable to develop a muscular system like that of an athlete or a giant. Whatever falls to his hands to do, he must do it with his might, assured that God loves not the idle or dishonest worker. He must remember that life has its duties and responsibilities as well as its pleasures; that these begin in boyhood, and that they cannot be evaded without injury to heart and mind and soul. He must train himself in all good habits, in order that these may accompany him easily in later life; in habits of method and order, of industry and perseverance and patience. He must not forget that every victory over himself smooths the way for future victories of the same kind; and the precious fruit of each moral virtue is to set us on higher and better ground for conquests of principle in all time to come. He must resolutely shut his ears and his heart to every foul word and every improper suggestion, every profane utterance; guarding himself against the first approaches of sin, which are always the most insidiously made. He must not think it a brave or plucky thing to break wholesome rules, to defy authority, to ridicule age or poverty or feebleness, to pamper the appetite, to imitate the ‘fast,’ to throw away valuable time; to neglect precious opportunities. He must love truth with a deep and passionate love, abhorring even the shadow of a lie, even the possibility of a falsehood. True in word, true in deed, he shall walk in the truth.”

I say then to you boys, do your best; be honest and diligent; be resolute to live a pure and honorable life; speak the truth like boys who hope to be gentlemen; be merry if you will, for it is good to be merry and wise; be loving and dutiful sons, be affectionate brothers, be loyal-hearted friends, and when you come to be men you will look back to these boyish days without regret and without shame.