|
The preaching was always
closely scriptural and often exceedingly searching and solemn. Of course,
I never heard the first generation of preachers, nor even the second; they
were all dead before I was born; but many of them must have been men of
extraordinary power in the pulpit. There were no newspapers to tell of
their eloquence, but the traditions and the enduring effects produced by
their preaching testify to its power. The preachers of my boyhood were
really the third generation, but they were of the old type. I have heard
many of those accounted the greatest preachers in the world in my time,
but I deliberately say, that for the purposes of Christian preaching, much
that I used to hear from my old pastor, Dr. Eagleson, and from his nearest
neighbor, Dr. Stockton, was not far below the best I ever heard. Many a
time have 1 been melted to tears by the pathos, and many a time been made
to tremble in my bones by the pungent and powerful appeals, of these men
of God. Undoubtedly they were great in the sight of the Lord. Mothers
brought their young children to the services, else they could not have
come themselves, as they had no servants to leave them with, and as they
did not believe in race suicide, the children were many. These little
people often made a great deal of noise in the services by their crowing
and crying. It was not at all uncommon to hear half a dozen of them in
full outcry at the same time. This would break up a modern congregation,
and drive the modern city preacher mad, but on the old pastor of my
childhood it had no more apparent effect than if it had been the
twittering of birds in the adjoining grove, or the honking of wild-geese a
thousand feet overhead. If a youngster became too obstreperous, and was
old enough to know better, his mother would snatch him up with a sudden
jerk, and despite his struggles and screams, drag him down the aisle to
the door, and out of it, her face meanwhile flushed and bearing the aspect
of great determination, a sure prophecy of what was coming to that
youngster, whence she would swiftly bear him to a bench that always stood
conveniently placed under a big tree near the open windows of the church,
and forthwith you might hear the rapid and stinging patter of a motherly
hand descending on the broadest part of helpless and shrieking childhood,
mingled with the most piercing outcries and half articulate promises of
better behavior in the future. After a time she would re-enter the church
with the calm and composed air of one who had done and well done, a
disagreeable duty, the little one meekly toddling by her side completely
subdued for the time. There are men whom I have met in high places in
Church and State, whom I have seen on former days pass through this
discipline, no doubt to their passing pain, but probably to their lasting
profit.
During prayers, however
long, everybody except the very aged and infirm was expected to stand.
There was usually a good deal of squirming, and twisting, and lounging
about on the part of many persons. Not a few men had the habit of facing
round, placing one foot on the bench, elbow on knee, chin in hand, and
gazing steadily and contentedly into the faces of those behind. I used to
be fearfully bored in this way by a certain pair of very bright and
twinkling old eyes long since closed in death.
In due time came the
"intermission," which was a recess of half an hour or so before the
afternoon service. Nearly all the people would retire from the church and
scatter about through the grove, some going to the nearby pump, while
others strolled off to a further spring, meanwhile "eating their piece,"
as they called taking their luncheon. Elders and other sedate men would
stand apart alone, or in little groups, silently meditating, or gravely
conversing on pious subjects. The lads and lasses would be apt to wander
off under the shade of stately trees, sidling up to one another in shy and
awkward coquetry, thus furtively keeping company a little, and probably
laying the foundation for closer relations later. Some of the older women
would remain devoutly in the church, quietly, munching crackers, cookies
and bits of cheese, meanwhile piously meditating. These were for the most
part mothers, more often grandmothers in Israel, but not a few of them
were aged virgins who had never been wedded to any one but Jesus Christ.
Among these last were found some of the most excellent of the earth, women
who had worn out their lives for others good. Dear, old, simple-minded,
life-worn saints! How clearly their calm, meek, patient faces, bleached
and wrinkled by the toil and exposure of many years, rise before me now
after all this lapse of time! Long ago their aged bodies were turned to
dust in the churchyard adjoining, and their humble, pious and chastened
souls ascended into the Eternal Presence, where they are forever before
the throne of that Gracious Lord, Whom, through all their heavy-laden
lives, they so deeply loved and so reverently and faithfully served. Peace
to their ashes. Honor to their memories. The half hour soon passed, all
too soon for some of the young people who were getting into closer
companionship, and the congregation assembled for the afternoon service.
In the warm summer weather this was apt to be a rather drowsy time. Hard
working farmers simply could not keep awake, try they never so hard.
Sometimes a bronzed and sturdy farmer in his shirt-sleeves would stand
bolt upright in the midst of the congregation for fifteen minutes, in
order to shake off his oncoming languor. Looking over the assembly after
the service had got well under way, one might see many here and there, in
more or less sound slumber, and in many varying attitudes. Some sunk down
in a sort of heap, as limp as a bag of clothes ready for the laundry; some
crouched in the pew with head forward and chin on bosom; some bent forward
with chin on staff; others with head lolling far over on shoulder. Here,
for instance, is a venerable elder sitting bolt upright for a time, gazing
steadily at the preacher and meaning in his heart to be an example to the
flock by keeping awake. But, by and by, the subtle influence stealthily
creeps over him, he begins to stare languidly into vacancy, his eyelids
droop and finally close, his head slowly falls back, his nose points to
the zenith, his mouth opens wide, and his breathing becomes a soft and
solemn snore. He is dead to the world and the world is dead to him.
Presently something, it may be a busy and bewildered fly, or a fleck of
saliva, or possibly a little quid of tobacco drops into his throttle, when
there is a sudden and violent start, probably a loud snort; his spectacles
fall from his forehead, his Bible from his hand, his staff from between
his knees, while five hundred pairs of eyes are focused upon him.
Forthwith he shakes himself together and goes on to make divers other
motions and noises, as if it ought to be plain that he was only shifting
his position, shuffling his feet, coughing, blowing his nose, or some such
allowable thing. But nobody is fooled by that at all. Everybody knows what
is the matter with him.
At last the services of the
day come to a close, and then what a whinnying of hungry horses, and
rattling of vehicles, and chattering of neighbors as the people scatter
under the rays of the declining sun, and go streaming along all roads and
across all fields to their homes. On arrival there, an ample meal was
served as soon as possible, and then came an hour which to lusty
youngsters and to unregenerate people generally, was a good deal of a
bore, for all about the place must appear before the master of the
household, and recite the Shorter Catechism. The evening was quietly and
piously spent, and the next morning found the family rested and refreshed
for another week of toil. There are many people, and some of them may read
this book, who scoff at the simplicity and strictness of our fathers
especially as regards the observance of the Sabbath. They mock at what
they stigmatize as the narrowness, the bigotry and the gloom of our
forefathers. Very well: let them mock and make merry if they will. Truth
and reality are always narrow in the estimation of dreamers, fanatics,
Saducees, and loose-livers generally. To such, every earnest man, every
man who deeply believes that he will be called to a strict account for the
way he lives, every man of strong moral conviction and of a downright and
strenuous moral purpose, is a bigot. The way that leads to life has
evermore been narrow, while that which leads to death has evermore been
broad. The one is easy to go in, the other not so easy; he who would find
it must gird up his loins and look well to his goings. Men who are bent on
living as they please are apt to be prompt and sweeping in denouncing as
bigots those who are governed by strict principles in regard to the
Sabbath, or anything else. No doubt, the Sabbath of our Puritan and
Presbyterian forefathers was a very sober, serious and solemn day. Perhaps
those features of it were somewhat overdone.
But it is not bad for a
man, nor for society to have one day in seven that is sober, and even
solemn. It hurts no man to be brought up with a sharp turn one day in
seven, to have an arrest put on his worldly activities, to be compelled by
the very situation, to shut off steam and bank down the fires of his
secular ambition, and look quietly and squarely on the things which
concern his eternal destiny and doom. Besides, it was not usually a day of
gloom to any one who had the least insight into its purpose or the least
sympathy with the things of the spirit. It was a great boon especially to
those whose daily burden was very heavy, and whose daily toil was very
hard. It brought one day in the week as a secure interval of sweet rest
and blessed quiet in the midst of the wearing toil and sore struggle of
life. The commonest drudge, the very slave could say to his master, this
day is not yours, it is the Lord's, and is secured to me as a day of rest
and worship. The dusty farm-hand, the grimy miner, who washed and dressed
himself in plain but clean garb, and walked to church with his family, and
spent the rest of the day in fellowship with God and his dear ones, was a
better man all the week for it. Most of all, it gave the opportunity and
furnished the incentive for reflection on one's ways, meditation on the
higher ends of existence, and for the worship of God and communion with
Him, and all the saints on earth and in heaven.
Every institution, like
every tree, may fairly be judged by its fruits. This was the Master's
challenge. What does it do for the individual, the family, the country?
Judged by this test, we are willing to set up the Sabbath of our fathers
(better say, the Sabbath of the Lord), as against the Sunday picnic, the
beer garden, and the place of carousal. Which nourishes the stronger,
nobler, more overcoming men and women? Which sends more men to the police
court, to jail, to the penitentiary? Which furnishes the greater number of
jaded, wasted and ruined lives? Which prepares people better for Monday
morning, and for the work of the week? for the duties of life, and for the
destinies of eternity? There are many now as there were of old, who spend
their money for that which is not bread, and their labor for that which
satisfieth not; and it is just as true now as it was then, that they who
wait on the Lord shall renew their strength.
Lord Macaulay tells us that
the Cavaliers of England laughed at the strictness and sanctimoniousness
of our Presbyterian forefathers, but he adds, that when they met these men
in the halls of debate or on the field of battle, they had little cause to
laugh. Even so, smart writers and loose-livers have had no little fun with
our Scotch-Irish ancestors, but when they have come to try strength with
these people on any real battlefield of life, they have not felt half so
funny: in fact, they have not felt funny at all. |
