THE LEAF TURNED OVER.
January 1, 1888.
Some weeks ago I gave you two lectures on “Turning Over a New Leaf.” One of the directors of this college to whom I sent a printed copy said I ought to follow those with another on this subject: “The Leaf Turned Over.” I at once accepted this suggestion and shall now try to follow his advice.
Most thoughtful people as they approach the end of a year are apt to ask themselves some plain questions—as to their manner of life, their habits of thought, their amusements, their studies, their business, their home, their families, their companions, their plans for the future, their duty to their fellow-men, their duty to God; in short, whether the year about to close has been a happy one; whether they have been successful or otherwise in what they have attempted to do.
The merchant, manufacturer or man of business of any kind who keeps books, and whose accounts are properly kept, looks with great interest at his account book at such a time, to see whether his business has been profitable or otherwise, whether he haslost or made money, whether his capital is larger or smaller than it was at the beginning of the year, whether he is solvent or insolvent, whether he is able to pay his debts or is bankrupt.
And to very many persons engaged in business for themselves, this is a time of great anxiety, for one can hardly tell exactly whether he is getting on favorably until his account books are posted and the balances are struck. If one’s capital is small and the result of the year’s business is a loss, that means a reduction of capital, and raises the question whether this can go on for some years without failure and bankruptcy. Many and many a business man looks with great anxiety to the month of December, and especially to the end of it, to learn whether he shall be able to go on in his business, however humble. And, alas! there are many whose books of account are so badly kept, and whose balances are so rarely struck, or who keep no account books at all, that they never know how they stand, but are always under the apprehension that any day they may fail to meet their obligations and so fail and become bankrupt. They were insolvent long before, but they did not know it; and they have gone on from bad to worse until they are ruined. Others, again, are afraid to look closely into their account books—afraid to have the balances struck, lest they should be convinced that their affairs are in a hopeless condition. Unhappy cowards they are, for if insolvent thesooner they know it the better, that they may make the best settlement they can with their creditors, if the business is worth following at all, and begin again, “turning over a new leaf.”
I do not suppose that many of you boys have ever thought much on these subjects; for you are not in business as principals or as clerks, you have no merchandise or produce or money to handle, you have no account books for yourselves or for other people to keep, to post, to balance, and you may think you have no interest in these remarks; but I hope to be able to show you that these things are not matters of indifference to you.
The year 1887, which closed last night, was just as muchyouryear as it was that of any man, even the busiest man of affairs. When it came, 365 days ago, it found you (most of you) at school here: it left all of you here. And the question naturally arises, what have you done with this time, all these days and nights? Every page in the account books of certain kinds of business represents a day of business, and either the figures on both the debit and the credit side are added up and carried forward, or the balance of the two sides of the page is struck and carried over leaf to the next page.
So every day of the past year represents a page in the history of your lives: for every life, even the plainest and most humble, has its own peculiar history. Your lives here are uneventful; no very startlingthings occur to break the monotony of school life, but each day has its own duties and makes its own record. Three hundred and sixty-five pages of the book of the history of every young life here were duly filled by the records of all the things done or neglected, of the words spoken or unspoken, of the thoughts indulged or stifled; these pages with their records, sad or joyful, glad or shameful, were turned over, and are now numbered with the things that are past and gone. When an accountant or book-keeper discovers, after the books of the year are closed and the balances struck, that errors had crept in which have disturbed the accuracy of his work, he cannot go back with a knife and erase the errors and write in the correct figures; neither can he blot them out, nor rub them out as you do examples from a slate or from the blackboard; he must correct his mistakes; he must counteract his blunders by new entries on a new page.
It is somewhat so with us, with you. Last night at midnight the last page of the leaves of the book of the old year was filled with its record, whatever it was, and this morning “the leaf is turned over.” What do we see? What does every one of you see? A fair, white page. And each one of you holds a pen in his hand and the inkstand is within reach; you dip your pen in the ink, you bend over the page, the thoughts come thick and fast, much faster indeed than any pen, even that of the quickest shorthandwriter can put them on the page. There are stenographers who can take the language of the most rapid speakers, but no stenographer has ever yet appeared who can put his own thoughts on paper as rapidly as they come into his mind. But while there is but one mind in all the universe that can have knowledge of what is passing in your mind and retain it all—THE INFINITE MIND; and while no one page of any book, however large, even if it be what book-makers call elephant folio, can possibly hold the record of what any boy here says and thinks in a single day, you may, and you do, all of you, write words good or bad on the page before you.
Let me take one of these boys not far from the desk, a boy of sixteen or seventeen years of age, who is now waiting, pen in hand, to write the thoughts now passing in his mind. What are these thoughts? No one knows but himself. Shall I tell you what I think he ought to write? It is something like this:
“I have been here many years. When I came I was young and ignorant. I found myself among many boys of my own age, hardly any of whom I ever saw before, who cared no more for me than I cared for them. I felt very strange; the first few days and nights I was very unhappy, for I missed very much my mother and the others whom I had left at home. But very soon these feelings passed away. I was put to school at once, and in the school-room and the play-ground I soon forgot thethings and the people about my other home. Years passed. I was promoted from one school to another, from one section to another; I grew rapidly in size; my classmates were no longer little boys; we were all looking up and looking forward to the school promotions, and I became a big boy. The lessons were hard, and I studied hard, for I began to understand at last why I was sent here, and to ask myself the question, what might reasonably be expected of me? Sometimes when quite alone this question would force itself upon me, what use am I making of my fine advantages, or am I making the best use of them? And what manner of man shall I be? For I know full well that all well-educated boys do not succeed in life—do not become successful men in the highest and best sense. How do I know that I shall do well? Is my conduct here such as to justify the authorities in commending me as a thoroughly manly, trustworthy boy? Have I succeeded while going through the course of school studies in building up a character that is worthy of me, worthy of this great school? Can those who know me best place the most confidence in me? If I am looking forward to a place in a machine shop, or in a store, or in a lawyer’s office, or to the study of medicine, or to a place in a railroad office or a bank, am I really trying to fit myself for such a place, or am I simply drifting along from day to day, doing only what I am compelled to do and cultivating no true ambition torise above the dull average of my companions? And then, as I look at the difficulties in the way of every young fellow who has his way to make in the world, has it not occurred to me to look beyond the present and the persons and things that surround me now, and look to a higher and better Helper than is to be found in this world? Have I not at times heard words of good counsel in this chapel, from the lips of those who come to give me and my companions wholesome advice? What attention have I given to such advice? I have been told, and I do not doubt it, that the great God stoops from heaven and speaks to my soul, and offers his Divine help, and even holds out his hand, though I cannot see it, and will take my hand in his, and help me over all hard places, and will never let me go, if I cling to him, and will assure me success in everything that is right and good. I have heard all this over and over again; I know it is true, but I have not accepted it as if I believed it; I have not acted accordingly; in fact, I have treated the whole matter as if it were unreal, or as if it referred to somebody else rather than to me.
“And now I have come probably to my last year in this school. Before another New Year’s day some other boy will have my desk in the school-room, my bed in the dormitory, my place at the table, my seat in the chapel. These long years, oh! how long they have seemed, have nearly all passed; I shall soon goaway; if some place is not found for me I must find one for myself—oh! what will become of me? Since last New Year’s day two boys who were educated here have been sent convicted criminals to the Eastern Penitentiary. What are they thinking about on this New Year’s morning? They sat on these seats, they sang our hymns, they heard the same good words of advice which I have heard, they had all the good opportunities which all of us have; what led them astray? Did they believe that the good God stooped from heaven to say good words to them, holding out his strong hand to help them? I wonder if they thought they were strong enough to take care of themselves? I wonder if they thought they could get along without his help? Do I think I can?”
Some such thoughts as these may be passing in the mind of the boy now looking at me and sitting not far from the desk, the boy whom I had in my mind as I began to speak. He is holding his pen full of ink. He has written nothing yet; he has been listening with some curiosity to hear what the speaker will say, what he can possibly know of a boy’s thoughts.
I can tell that boy whatIwould write if I were at his age, in this college, and surrounded by these circumstances, listening to these serious, earnest words. I would take my pen and write on the first page of this year’s book, this Sunday morning, this New Year’s day, these words: “The leaf is turned over!God help me to lead a better life. God forgive all the past, all my wrong doings, all my neglect, all my forgetfulness. God keep me in right ways. God keep me from wicked thoughts which defile the soul; keep me from wicked words which defile the souls of others.”
“But this is a prayer,” you say; “do you want me to begin my journal by writing a prayer?”
Yes; but this is not all. Write again.
1.I will not willingly break any of the rules which are adopted for the government of our school.
Some of the rules mayseemhard to obey, and even unreasonable, but they were made for my good by those who are wiser than I am. Icanobey them; Iwill.
2.I will work harder over my lessons than ever before, and I will recite them more accurately.
This means hard work, but it is my duty; I shall be the better for it; it will not be long, for I am going soon; Ican, Iwill.
3.I will watch my thoughts and my talk more carefully than I have ever done before.
If I have hurt others by evil talk I will do so no more. It is a common fault; many of us boys have fallen into the habit of it; but for one, I will do so no more; Icanstop it, Iwill.
4.I will be more careful in my daily life here, to set a good example in all things, than I have ever been before.
The younger boys look to the older boys and imitate them closely. They watch us, our words, our ways, our behavior in all things. If any young fellows have been misled by me, it shall be so no more. I will behave so that no one shall be the worse for doing as I do. This is quite within my control; Ican, Iwill.
5.I will look to God to help me to do these things.
For I have tried to do something like this before and failed; it must be because I depended on my own strength. Now I will look away from myself and depend upon “God, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy.” Hecanhelp me; he surely will, if I throw myself on his mercy, and by daily prayer and reading the Scriptures, even if only for a moment or two each day, I shall see light and find peace.
These are the things that I would write, my boy, if I were just as you are.
Shall I stop now? May I not go a little farther and say some words to others here?
Teachers, prefects, governesses: these boys are all under your charge, and every day. The same good Providence that brought them here for education and support, brought you here also to teach them and care for them. Your work is exacting, laborious, unremitting. Some of these young boys are trying to your patience, your temper, your forbearance, almost beyond endurance. Sometimes you arediscouraged by what seems to be the almost hopeless nature of your work, the untidiness, the rough manners, the ill temper, the stupidity of some of these young boys. But remember that all this is inevitable; that from the nature of the case it must be so; and remember, too, that to reduce such material to good order, to train and educate these young lives so that they shall be well educated, well informed, well mannered, polite, gentle, considerate, so they may be fairly well assured of a successful future, is a great and noble work, worthy of the ambition of the highest intelligence. This is exactly what the great founder had in his mind when he established this college and provided so munificently for its endowment. This is what his trustees most earnestly desire, and the hope of which rewards them for the many hours they give every week to the care of this great estate. We depend upon you to carry out the plan of instruction here, not only in the schools, but in the section rooms and on the play-grounds. Be to these older boys their big brothers, their best friends. Be kind to them always, even when compelled to reprove them for their many faults.
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 todistraction; but bear with them, help them, encourage them, love them, for ifyoudo 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.
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.