LECTURE II. DANGERS OF YOUNG MEN. TITUS, ii. 6. YOUNG MEN LIKEWISE EXHORT TO BE SOBER MINDED. "Secretary Walsingham, an eminent courtier and statesman, in Queen Elizabeth's time, in his old age, retired into a rural privacy. Some of his former, gay companions, came to visit him, who observed, he was melancholy. No, said he, I am not melancholy; I am serious; and it is very proper I should be so. Ah, my friends, while we laugh, all things are serious round about us. God is serious, who exercises patience towards us; Christ is serious, who shed his atoning blood for us; the Holy Ghost is serious in striving against the obstinacy of our hearts; the Holy Scriptures are serious books ;-they present to our thoughts. the most important concerns in all the world; the holy sacrament represents the most serious and awful matters; the whole creation is serious in serving God and us; all who are in hell are serious; how then can we be gay, and trifle with all-important time?" Admirable reply, and worthy to be engraven on the tablet of every heart. It marks an obvious distinction between melancholy and seriousness; and whilst it administers a pertinent reproof to "this world's gay triflers," it indicates a frame of mind which it becomes all persons habitually to cherish. For, whatever view we take of our condition and prospects, we cannot but see, there is much to enforce the exhortation of the text; much to make us "Walk thoughtful, on the silent, solemn shore, Human life is often likened to a voyage. It is a voyage to eternity; attended with great danger, as well as much hardship and toil. The sea we have to navigate, viewed in prospect, looks smooth and inviting; but beneath, it conceals shoals, and quicksands, and rocks and great multitudes, in attempting to reach the distant shore, are shipwrecked and lost. On this sea, my young friends, you are now embarking, with little knowledge of what is before you, and many of you, I fear, without line, or compass, or chart ;—a sea where many dark nights and furious storms are to be encountered; where you are liable, on the one hand, to be allured into fatal gulfs; and, on the other, to be dashed upon hidden shelves. Happy, if apprised of the dangers that threaten you, you betake yourselves to the means of safety, survive every storm, and arrive secure, at last, in the haven of eternal rest. To point out these dangers, and suggest the means of guarding against them, is what I shall attempt in the present discourse. I. Every period of life has its peculiar temptations and dangers. But were I to specify the period which, of all others, is attended with the greatest peril, and most needs to be watched and guarded, I would fix upon that which elapses from fourteen to twentyone years of age. This, pre-eminently, is the forming, fixing period; the spring season of disposition and habit; and it is during this season, more than any other, that the character assumes its permanent shape and colour, and the young man is wont to take his course for life and for eternity. But not to confine my remarks to this particular age, it will not be doubted, that the time, during which, we usually denominate one a young man, is the most important and perilous period of his whole existence. Then the passions, budding and hastening to ripeness, acquire new vigor, become impatient of restraint, and eager for gratification. Then the imagination, unchecked by experience, and unrestrained by judgment, paints the world in false and fascinating colours, and teaches the young bosom to sigh after its vain and forbidden pleasures. Then springs up in the mind, the restless desire of independence and self-control;-a disposition to throw off the restraints of parental counsel and authority, and to think and act for itself. "Then the social impulse is felt, and the young man looks around for companions and friends;" then the calling for life is chosen, the principles of action adopted, habits acquired, and those connexions in business and society formed, which usually decide the character, and fix the condition, both for this and the future world. The present, then, young men, is, to you, a season of deep and everlasting interest. Consequences of infinite moment hang on the span of time that is now passing over you. The path to respectability, to usefulness, and happiness, is open before you: so also is the path to infamy and wretchedness and |