As we come to consider the soul of the child, using this term not in its religious sense, but to include all of life but the physical, we understand that in reality it is indivisible. There are no separate parts or faculties possessing unique powers such as reasoning, remembering, feeling or willing. The whole soul remembers, feels and wills. However, for the sake of clearness and convenience, when it is reasoning, we are accustomed to speak of soul power in that direction as reason, or imagining as imagination or willing as will.
We must understand, also, that the soul of the child is as complete in its possibilities as the soul of the adult, only they are undeveloped. As life and environment grow more complex, new needs arise and these new needs awaken soul power in a new direction. The expression "I didn't know he had it in him," is frequently heard, as some one has shown unexpected ability under sudden pressure of circumstances. Every brain has millions of undeveloped cells, scientists affirm, signifying that every life is infinitely poorer than it might be. The need is something to arouse its latent power.
CURIOSITY
The little child is at first in a world of total mystery. Sights, sounds, sensations from contact come to him and all are unintelligible. As they are carried to his brain, somewhere, somehow, they awaken a desire to know their meaning, and as the tiny fingers are extended toward objects the soul is reaching also. This soul reaching is curiosity, one of God's most gracious and wonderful provisions for the life, but so often its significance is misunderstood. If there were no curiosity, there would never be any eager attempt to explore the field of knowledge. The disciplined spirit of inquiry that makes for the world's progress, is only a fuller development of the untutored and disastrous effort of the child to find out about things. We forget that before there can be a flower there must be a bud. Before there can be a scientist who shall pick the rock to pieces to learn its secret, there must be a child who picks a doll to pieces to see what is inside. The pathos of childhood is its bowed head and mute lips under the blow and the stinging word, because judgment is passed, not on motives, as the parent demands for himself, but on the external appearance of the act. We look into our Heavenly Father's face, out of the wreckage and mistakes of a day, and say, "I meant to do it aright, but I am so ignorant," and we are comforted that He looks at the heart and understands. Can we be less pitifully tender toward His little ones?
There are three marked manifestations of curiosity during this period of childhood.
Questions.
In the wordless years of earliest life, mysteries around the child can receive only partial solution. But the day comes when language gives him a key whereby to unlock the doors, and he begins to ask, "What is it," then "Why," and "Where," and "How." This questioning period commences about the age of three, and is in strong evidence for some time. The answers involve for the most part nouns and verbs, not adjectives nor adverbs, signifying that the child is not yet ready for abstract qualities and characteristics. Simple facts only are sought at first. Questions concern the names of things, activities connected with them, causes and ends and the age-long mystery of origins.
Passing by reluctantly any further discussion of this most fascinating subject of children's questions, four great facts bearing upon nurture must be noted.
Repression of the sincere questioning of a child tends to weaken his effort to acquire knowledge.
Questions reveal a need felt by the child, and are a guide to the kind of instruction he is ready to receive.
A question not only reveals a need, but is also an assurance that the instruction given will be received, for what the mind wants to learn, it will learn.
A sincere question demands a sincere answer.
This statement would seem superfluous, if its need were not apparent in questions dealing with the origin of life. God gives to the mother, first, the sacred privilege of investing these most holy mysteries with purity and sanctity, and through this confidence drawing the life of the child into closer fellowship with her own. If the opportunity be cast away through the evasive or untruthful answer, the facts may come with a taint upon them which can never be wholly removed.
Mischief.
Destructiveness.
A word must suffice upon these other manifestations of curiosity. When truly understood, they reveal only an eager mind trying to obtain new experiences to add to knowledge. It is not total depravity that leads a child to pull the articles from the workbasket, or tear the book, or demolish the toy. He merely wants to see the object under as great a variety of conditions as possible, to find out all he can about it. It is identical with the spirit of the scientist who essays new combinations to see what the results may be, only in its inception it is crude and unskilled.
Assuredly, instead of dealing harshly with an instinct which in later years may make the whole world richer, it would be wiser to give it legitimate outlet. Toys and blocks which admit of being taken apart and readjusted may begin the training of an Edison or a Stephenson.
INTERESTS
Just as in the realm of the physical, appetite for one sort of food may be greater than for another, even in hunger, so a varying appetite appears in connection with the soul hunger of curiosity. It is strongest in the direction of that in which the life is naturally interested at any given time.
The interests of early childhood are primarily in things which exhibit or suggest activity and in simplest relationships, found in the little world bounded by home, neighborhood, Kindergarten and Sunday School. Nature makes strong appeal, not on the aesthetic side of tint and shadow, but through the charm of her multiform movements and family life akin to the child's. The bird's nest fascinates because there is connected with it the story of the building and the hungry little brood it sheltered. Tales of animals, fairies and real folk, busy in simple and familiar occupations hold him entranced, and he will watch with rapt attention the performance of most common tasks. It is noteworthy that his interest in all this is not so much in the end to be accomplished, as in the activity itself. Even in his play, the preparations are often more delightful and satisfying than the game which follows.
All this has a deep meaning for one who is trying to help the little life in its unfolding.
"Wise education takes the tide at the flood," says James. These interests reveal the fact that in this period, instruction should deal with things, not with statements of ideas, apart from things, or, in other words, with the concrete, not the abstract.
The greater the knowledge of things gained while interest attaches to them, the greater the resources for clear, broad thinking as life matures.
When instruction is in line with interests, attention and consequent learning are assured.
The child's religious interests will be identical in character with the other interests of this period. He will not be interested in the Being or attributes of God, but God in His great activities as Creator and Wonder-Worker, and in His relation as Father. Jesus will make appeal, not in His discourses, but in His acts of helpfulness and power, and His love.
The great law of teaching is here involved, that interest in and knowledge of the unknown can come only through interest in and knowledge of something which is like it. Paul says in Romans, "For the invisible things of Him since the world began are clearly seen, being perceived through the things that are made, even His everlasting power and divinity." Therefore the first definite religious instruction which the child receives, must be upon spiritual truths illustrated in his own known world of interests.
IMITATION
The result of the efforts of curiosity, senses and activity is a constantly increasing store of ideas in the child's mind, relating to these things in which he is interested. As these ideas enter his mind, applying this term to the "intellectual function of the soul," he immediately wants to act upon them, according to a law inborn that an idea always tends to go out into action, unless it is held back. Adults have fixed habits of expressing ideas that come to them, but not so the child. An interesting activity is always a suggestion to him to reproduce it exactly, if possible. This difference between habit and suggestion in action is illustrated in the case of a long-suffering kitten in the hands of a resourceful child. The sight will arouse in another child an irresistible impulse to try the same experiment, while it always leads his mother to attempt a rescue.
This tendency to exact reproduction of activity is the instinct of imitation, and is a marked characteristic of childhood. As these words are written, a glance through the window discloses surveyors at work with tape and red chalk. Following in their wake is a five year old with diminutive string and piece of red crayon, laying out distances and taking measurements, in exact copy of his predecessors, a genuine "pocket edition" of the original.
While such elaborate exactness characterizes imitation in this period of childhood alone, the impulse to conform is never entirely lost. The desire grows more complex and general as the years go on, and from reproduction of definite acts, the life tries to emulate the spirit and achievements of its hero, and later to be in some harmony, at least, with public opinion. Brave, indeed, is the soul that dares to be a nonconformist in regard to the standards "they" have established.
The results of imitation are profoundly important in character building.
When a child re-enacts what he sees, he comes to a better understanding of its meaning. This is one purpose of the imitation of common activities in Kindergarten games.
The idea which is acted upon becomes an inseparable part of the life.
Habit is the outcome of repeated imitation.
Life grows like what it imitates.
With these facts in view, the application to the work of nurture is too obvious for discussion.
IMAGINATION
The child is not content alone to imitate activities. He likes to transform objects and make over familiar situations. This he does through that power of his soul called imagination.
The imagination of this period is "fancy-full," crude, and unbridled by reason or will. The child lives in a world of make believe. He sees whole menageries in the back yard, and performs exploits worthy of a David or Samson. He gives soul to inanimate objects, and endows them with feelings like his own. He plays with companions of his own creation, and peoples the dark with weird forms. Things are changed at will to suit his whims, the stick becoming the untamed steed and the rocking chair the storm-tossed boat. The magic of his alchemy may extend to himself, and make him for days another person, or even an animal.
This world of make believe is as real to him as the world which is seen through his eyes, and often he can not distinguish between the two. Many a little heart has quivered over the punishment inflicted for "lying", when willful misrepresentation was not in his thoughts. However, harsh treatment of a vivid imagination may result in real deception later on, for the child can not help "seeing things," too wonderful to be enjoyed alone, and then, perforce, there must be deliberate planning to escape the punishment.
This harshness also begins to raise an invisible barrier between the child and parent. It was felt by a little maiden of rare fancy, who said in a whisper at the conclusion of one of these marvellous tales, "But don't tell Mamma." The impassable wall between many a mother and daughter in later years, once consisted of but a scattered stone here and there.
Passing by the play life of the child where the imagination has fullest scope, the question arises as to the meaning of this power in character building. One purpose stands paramount over every other. It is the "ideal making factory" of the life. From transforming sticks and chairs, the soul will one day pass to transforming memories and thoughts, putting away the unattractive features and investing the attractive with even more charm, through dreams of what might be. From constructing houses out of blocks, the soul will begin to construct ideals out of its experiences and visions, according to a pattern shown on some mount.
As childhood recedes and manhood beckons, the soul unveils this ideal, fashioned in its secret workshop out of all that appeared most desirable, and with strange, magnetic power, it begins to draw the life after it. Worthy or unworthy, the years to come will see some part, at least, of the ideal, a reality. The character of the imagination, therefore, becomes a matter of supreme concern to nurture. It will be healthy or diseased morally, according to the quality of the material supplied for its use. The two great sources of this material are every day experiences and the story. The meaning of these experiences to the child's life has already been emphasized in various connections, and repetition is unnecessary, but the story holds a unique place in point of influence. Since it comes with deepest significance to the child in the next period of development, when imagination is less mixed with fancy, its discussion will be reserved for that time.
MEMORY
The child has an unfortunate experience with a hot stove and tender fingers bear the cruel scar. Must some one always watch him, year after year, to save him from a succession of burns? He is taken to school by his mother; must she forever accompany him to insure his safe arrival? Is there no way of understanding a present experience except by passing through it? Life would be an unsatisfactory thing indeed, if this were true, but the soul has the power of retaining past experiences in order that they may throw light upon the present. The business man does not deliberately do again that which was disastrous before, for he remembers the past misfortune. The child will not tomorrow press his little burned hand against the heated iron, for he recalls the pain of yesterday. This gracious gift of God to life, we call memory. Without it, there could be no understanding, no reasoning, no imagination, no knowledge, no growth.
The physical side of memory is most interesting. On the covering of the brain, each in its own place, the images or impression brought in by the senses and the activity are registered. So sensitive and susceptible are the brain cells during childhood, that these impressions are received as clay receives the touch of the sculptor's finger, and under right conditions, they are ineffaceable. When the soul acts upon these images, they live again, and we say, "We remember."
Two important questions are suggested by these facts. First, what kind of impressions should we attempt to store in the memory during childhood? Second, how may these impressions be made permanent?
To the first question, the child himself makes answer through what he most easily retains and through his needs.
Since he is interested and curious in regard to things, since he spends all his physical activity upon them, since he desires them and thinks about them, we would expect that things, together with experiences and ideas associated with them, would naturally fill his memory. Any observer of childhood knows that this is true. The memory of a little child is overwhelmingly for the concrete, the impressions through the senses and from what he does being far more easily retained than ideas alone. A child will recall the story of the Good Samaritan more readily than the isolated verse, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." The reward or punishment of an act makes a more lasting impression than the dissertation upon it. Since the concrete must be the starting point of thinking, it must come to his soul at some time, and, judged by every condition, this is God's time for it.
The child's needs are also a guide in this matter. The soul is growing in every direction, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually if properly nurtured, and memory holds the constantly increasing food for its growth. Is it to be treated as a stockroom, where packages unavailable for the present are to be laid away until needed, or as a store-house supplied with nourishing food for the present? If memory is a stockroom, then it should be filled with definitions, statements, terms, facts, anything which may be needed sometime. This can be done, for the brain will retain the sound of the words, but meantime, what shall the child feed on? What shall he use? The soul can feed on or make use of only that which is at least partially understood. This means largely the concrete, for abstract statements can be understood only through the experience or reason, and the child has meagre resources in either direction. Only when a thought embodies what he has experienced, can he grasp and use it.
Is it not the work of nurture to see that memory is provided with that out of which it can supply every need of the developing life today? That, "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen," may mean much to his mature heart, but what if the child should be frightened tomorrow and need to have his budding faith strengthened from memory? Would not the story of God's care over the baby Moses, Jesus' care for the disciples in the blackness of the storm, with the words, "He careth for you," if these were stored in memory, quiet more quickly the beating heart, and more surely increase his faith? True nurture will not starve life in the present to hoard for the future. Memory now requires all its store for immediate use. Later, after growth is well under way in every direction, memory not only can supply present needs, but it will also demand a surplus for future use.
The second question, relating to the permanency of these impressions, is answered in meeting the following conditions:
A healthy, non-fatigued brain when the impression is made.
Close attention.
A clear, easily understood and forceful presentation of the thing to be remembered.
The use of as many senses as possible. When an impression has been given through eye and ear and touch, for example, it is more definite in the mind than when it has come only through the sense of hearing.
A natural association of the new impression with others well known and interesting to the child.
Immediate and frequent recall.
A child receives a coveted toy and his face is aglow with delight. He is sharply reproved and anger or grief appears. Another child comes to play with him, and he may assert that all his guest desires "is mine," and tears, and even blows ensue before amicable adjustment can be made. And so through the hours of a kaleidoscopic day, the emotional pendulum keeps swinging from love to anger, from pride to humility, from selfishness to sporadic and angelic bits of generosity. What is the significance of it all in the life of the child?
Before considering this vital question, shall we note some characteristics of the feelings in Early Childhood?
They center about self, and instinctive feelings, such as hunger and thirst, pain and pleasure, fear, pride and anger, are strongest. Love is present in its first stages, not the self sacrificing sort, but love given in response to love and attention. The child's feelings are easily aroused, fleeting, and usually more or less superficial. Abstractions, such as beauty, duty, responsibility, and relationships in general have but slight effect upon his soul, and the lack of feeling in these directions is commonly expressed by saying that the higher feelings are not yet developed.
The child's feelings in response to religious truth can not, therefore, be those of the adult. He will feel love for God as he feels it for his mother, because of His love, provision and care for him. God's power and the mystery that envelops Him will awaken a response of awe and wonder in his soul, and absolute confidence that He can do anything. But this same power and majesty, carelessly presented, may call out fear, not the godly sort that is afraid of grieving Him by sin, but the physical fear that casts out love. He does not have the sense of moral obligation to God, for that again goes into the abstraction of thought. His religious life begins in feeling, pure and simple, and his creed is in I John, "We love Him because He first loved us."
Most interesting lines of discussion open out from the subject, but they are not pertinent to the chosen theme of this book. The only legitimate question is, "What is the work of nurture in connection with the feelings?"
Before this can be answered, the purpose of the feelings in character building must be clear. Then we shall know what nurture must do.
No feeling has a right to exist for itself. There is a task for it to perform, namely, to lead the soul to action. If unhindered it will always do this. The careful analysis of any action will reveal a motive power in some feeling, ranging from the lowest desires for self gratification to the sublime heights of love that denies self for the Master's sake. Knowledge alone does not suffice for action. A man may be familiar with the claims of Jesus and even acknowledge them, but until he feels a great need of Him, he will not become a Christian. The sermon may compel the admiration of the mind, but unless it move the heart no man will practice it. Jesus summed up his commands in "Love," not "Know," for He knew that loving meant God-like living. It is significant that the fruitage of the Spirit appears in the feelings of "love, joy, peace," before it can be manifest in the acts of "long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self control."
This indissoluble relation between feeling and action gives deep meaning to the words of Dr. W.H. Payne, "At least the half, and perhaps the better half of education consists in the formation of right feelings."
The work of nurture in connection with the feelings is now apparent. It must endeavor to develop right feelings in order to secure right actions and consequent strong character. This development is secured through repeatedly arousing the feelings, and giving them expression in action until they are habitual.
How may the Feelings be Aroused? Passing by all the physiological and psychological processes involved, and using the term, feeling, as it is popularly understood, the law that governs its appearance may be stated thus: "A feeling is occasioned by the touch of an impression upon the soul." With older people, these impressions may come from without or from a thought within, but with little children they come almost entirely from without. The sort of feeling aroused will evidently depend upon the sort of impression that comes, as well as the condition of the soul that receives it. This difference in conditions, or difference in lives as we ordinarily say, explains why the Sunday School lesson has such varied effects in the same class, or even upon the same child at different times.
Keeping in mind the law that some impression must precede a feeling, true nurture asks, "In what way can these impressions best be given, that desired feelings may be aroused?"
They are not given through command.
Common sense would recognize the absurdity of attempting to awaken anger by saying to a group of happy children, "Be angry." But why is the absurdity not equally apparent in saying, "Be loving," "Be sorry," "Be reverent?" Yet this is a method on which countless teachers and parents place their dependence. Suppose, for instance, reverence be the feeling desired; a thought of God's greatness and power and holiness must be given. If, to the sensitive soul of the child, the teacher bring the story of Sinai, or the story of Majestic Power as it is set forth in the 104th Psalm, or the glory of the Heavenly throne with the adoring multitudes, following with the words, softly sung,
"Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts,Heaven and earth are full of Thee,Heaven and earth are praising Thee,
the result will be true reverence.
Suggestion is a most effective way of conveying these impressions.
Instead of saying to the child, "This is the thought you should have, and this is what you should feel, and this is what you ought to do," he is allowed to draw meanings and have feelings of his own, for then they are genuinely a part of his soul, not something foisted upon him.
But even though the application is not made, nurture will consciously present impressions intended to suggest certain feelings. The Sunday School lesson, the missionary story, the visit to the poor family, the song carefully selected, all fall in this class. Special mention should be made of the great effect upon the child in making attractive in another, the feeling desired for him. A single incident will illustrate this: A frightened little candidate for the Beginners' Class and his stern mother stood one Sunday morning before the Primary superintendent. "He's got to stay in here by himself today," she said; "I won't have such nonsense. Look at him, with his first trousers on! I'm ashamed of him!" The superintendent did look and saw the new trousers, and in them the trembling little body, and a soul speechless with terror at facing for the first time, alone, the unknown experience of a great world, even though it was enclosed in four walls. There was no trace of relenting in the mother's face, and any plea for pity was useless. But the new trousers gave a possible key to the situation. "Why, so he has new trousers on!" the superintendent said. "I want to see them," and very thoroughly and enthusiastically they were inspected. "I didn't know that he was so nearly a man that he could wear trousers instead of dresses. I am sure he will stay alone today because men do and are not at all afraid." She waited. Gradually the little head lifted as the thought of bravery began to make its appeal. He put his hand into the hand of the superintendent, and without hesitation started on the perilous journey across the room to the Beginners' section, where no punishment could have driven him a few moments earlier, and proud and heroic sat by himself through the hour. Such is the power of suggestion.
Two points, however, must be carefully guarded in deliberate effort to arouse a feeling.
Care must be exercised not to over stimulate feeling, as an excess beyond that which can be expended in action has an after weakening and reactionary effect. This has its illustration in certain methods of evangelistic work with children, where results are measured by their hysterical condition when the meeting concludes. Contrast with this the gentleness which breathes through the story of the Master's touch, as He took them in His arms and blessed them, laying His hands upon them, when He had said, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me."
It is as injurious to a child to attempt to force a feeling before its normal time, as to a bud, to pry open its petals to hasten God's processes. Even the Divine Child "grew." "That is not first which is spiritual, but that which is natural, then that which is spiritual," is God's law of unfolding life.
But these consciously presented impressions form only a small part of the sources of suggestion to the child. The countless sights and circumstances of his everyday life all have a voice for him, and a feeling follows their message.
Every mother who has suffered mortification over the unaccountable behavior of her child toward a guest, knows the sometimes untoward as well as helpful working of suggestion from personality. Atmosphere has the same power. "I don't know what there is in your home," said a visitor to her hostess; "I can't define it, but it makes me want to be good." Music may be suggestive, aside from what it actually says. It would seem as if no sane superintendent would prepare for prayer by a two step song, or follow the lesson on, "The Washing of the Disciples' Feet", by, "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean," but it was done. It would seem as though no primary teacher could be so insensible to suggestion from objects, as to try to teach worship in giving by taking the offering through a hole in the tail of a jointed tin rooster, but that self-same rooster is no myth.
The subject expands into endless ramifications. True nurture essays the difficult task of analyzing the impressions that come from suggestion—guarding against the harmful, and multiplying the helpful.
Impressions may be given and feelings aroused through doing the act which would naturally result from the feeling.
This is the reason why a reverential attitude helps to arouse real reverence, and a smiling face and cheery tone actually bring cheerfulness in a case of the blues. Little children are so imitative that they quickly copy the outward manifestations of a feeling, and the inner state tends to follow. This is further a reason for leading them into acts of loving service, that love and kindred gracious feelings may gain strength through the reflex influence of the action upon the soul.
One word should be spoken on the negative side. Since each recurrence of a feeling strengthens its power, nurture will seek to avoid the conditions which would arouse wrong feelings. "But should not the child control himself?" some one asks. Instinctive feelings are stronger than the power of self control in the beginning, and life needs shielding more than testing. God says, "Fathers, provoke not your children to anger," or, literally, "Fathers, irritate not your children beyond measure, but nourish them fully in the instruction and admonition of the Lord."
The Expression of the Feelings.
Every normal feeling tends irresistibly to express itself in action unless it is held in leash. The story of the poor family needs the addition of no impassioned appeal; the child is already wondering whether he can empty his bank for their help. If expression is denied to the feeling, it tends to die out, and continual repression means a lessening either in power to act or power to feel. "Sentimentalists" have lost power to act except in tears or ejaculations when their emotions are stirred, and "hardened" people have lost the power to feel under ordinary stimulation. Therefore nothing is more fatal to vigorous development of the feelings of the child than to allow them to be dissipated without expression in the action they naturally suggest.
But nurture will see that little hands are allowed to hinder by "helping" to make the beds, or dust the room or carry the package, not simply that love may grow stronger, but that in after years there may be the desire to lift the burdens in reality from wearied shoulders, for the higher feelings of life develop from the instinctive feelings, if they have proper expression in the beginning. Love that is almost barter in early years, since it is bestowed for value received, if given constant expression in acts of helpfulness, will become the self-denying love of later years. Love for self, which is so strong in a child, can be developed toward its manifestation of self respect, by using it at first in childhood, "to help this good body grow both strong and tall." Childish hate may be directed against wrong things, in preparation for indignation against sin of future years. It must not be forgotten, however, that in God's economy every feeling, if properly used, has its work to do in character building in every stage of its development, so that even the foundation stones may be laid in beauty and strength.
THE WILL
The power of the soul to make deliberate choice of action, and unwaveringly to execute it, is undeveloped in this period of Early Childhood. The child does not balance reasons or desires. Instead, he acts impetuously and unthinkingly, as the feeling of the passing moment impels him. Often one desire so completely absorbs his mind as to obscure everything else, and he will make any effort to gain his end. His case is like that of a man who "sets his heart" on a thing, or who harbors an alluring temptation too long, until it overpowers him. This is the explanation of most cases of obstinacy and strong will, as is proven by the disappearance of the "will" when the mind is diverted.
One of the deepest desires of every parent and teacher is that there shall in truth be a strong will as the life matures, and so its training is sought. But just what is meant by it? We know there is no separate faculty to be strengthened as the arm is strengthened. What can be trained? The only training possible is in helping the soul to form the habit of choosing to do the right thing, or, analyzing still more closely, of following the promptings of the noblest feelings of the heart.
The inseparable relation between feeling and action has been noted. If the noblest feelings can be made the strongest, they will be followed. The previous discussion shows that their strength is increased every time they are aroused and acted upon, and this leads to habit in both feeling and action. The nurture of the will or executive power of the soul is seen, therefore, to be most intimately connected with the nurture of the feelings, and its work will consist in making the right course of action so appealing that the child will desire and choose it for himself, until it becomes habitual, and consequently, undebatable. Forcing him to follow it, secures the action; it does not arouse the feelings that would lead him to choose to do the act himself.
An act compelled is like an apple tied to a fruit tree; it did not grow there and has no connection with the life of the tree. A fruit tree that can not bear its own fruit is worthless, and a life that does not reach the point of producing its own right actions, independent of human coercion, is a failure. The comparison may be pressed still further. No quantity of apples tied upon a tree will ever make it produce apples, and even so, no number of right acts imposed upon a child will, in itself, make him do right things voluntarily. This can only come through strengthening in his own soul the processes that lead to right action. The truth of this is proven in the case of thousands of boys who did the right things at home because they were compelled to do so, but when they left home they went wrong. The one who should have nurtured was too busy, or too thoughtless, to take the time to lead into strength and uprightness the thinking and feeling and choosing of the soul while it was developing. It was easier to say peremptorily, "Do this," with the inevitable result, that when compulsion was removed character gave way because it was weak.
But some one is saying, "That is a very questionable doctrine; 'Let the child do as he pleases, if he don't want to do the right, don't force him.'"
Such a deduction from the argument entirely misses the point. The child must do the right, but, in a nutshell—which is the stronger constraint—outer or inner? Which makes character surer, the voice without, saying, 'You must,' or the voice within which says it? No external power could have made Paul's record of service, or Brainerd's or Paton's. All the force of the Russian government was powerless to obtain that which each Japanese soldier poured out upon his country's altar in the fight for supremacy in Manchuria. These deeds are the soul's response to the most irresistible power in the world—a consuming passion. It was such a passion, intense beyond earthly fathom, that led the Savior through Gethsemane to Calvary.
Because this is so, the Heavenly Father's effort to secure right action from His children is not evident in external compulsion. Through His favor and fellowship, the joy of His approval, the peace that passeth understanding, the "Well done," the eternal reward, He endeavors to arouse love for Himself and what He desires, in order that His will may be chosen.
According to this Divine pattern human nurture labors. At the very first, the parent must make choice for the child, but earlier than is usually appreciated, definite training may be begun. The loving smile of the mother and her known wish, her approval or disapproval, her recognition and encouragement, the knowledge that, "Whatsoever a man soweth that must he also reap," gained through bearing the penalty or enjoying the reward of each choice, the right course made attractive in the story of some one who chose it, or, most magnetic of all, in the life of the one who is nurturing, all these will begin to arouse the inner constraint that compels, and with glad acquiescence the soul will say, "Necessity is laid upon me."
When the life shall learn that the most blessed joy that inheres in right actions is not human approval but God's favor, and for His sake, with face steadfastly set, the right is followed, even though shorn of all external attractiveness, the highest development possible for a soul has been realized.
APPLICATION TO SUNDAY SCHOOL WORK
The Sunday School is such an important factor in religious training that a special application of the foregoing discussion to its methods and work seems wise. It is evident that plans can not be detailed, but only some principles underlying the methods be suggested.
THE CRADLE ROLL
In the first department known as the Cradle Roll, nurture can be given by the Sunday School only as it touches the parents. Any Cradle Roll work that culminates in the sentiment of securing the babies' names and calling them, "Our Sweet Peas", has missed its purpose. A peculiar opportunity comes with the flood tide of new parental love. "If I had not been a Christian when my boy was born, I could very easily have been led to Christ, my heart was so tender and full of gratitude," said the father of an only son.
The Sunday School will nurture its babes through choosing as Cradle Roll Superintendent, a consecrated Christian woman, trained in the school of life's experience, who can come close to other mothers because she, too, has known the valley of the shadow and the sacred joy of a new born life in her arms. A unique opportunity is hers to lead the parents to Christ or into closer fellowship with Him, and to help them understand the meaning of the life He has lent them.
THE BEGINNERS' DEPARTMENT
The Beginners' Department will care for the years between three and six. Nurture will be concerned first with the teacher.
The Teacher.—The child's conception of Christ will be what he sees in the teacher. He can not conceive of any love or tenderness or gentleness greater than appears in her. A mother came to the teacher of her little boy one day and said, "John was playing on the floor this afternoon, and all at once he stopped and watched me, and then said, 'Mamma, I wish you were as much like Jesus as my teacher is'" The lesson, the music, the prayer and all the differentiation of the day and place tend to elevate the teacher above those who share his daily life, and envelop her with an atmosphere more mystic and holy. She is connected not with clothes and bread and butter episodes, but wholly with the thought of Jesus, and stands by His side in the child's thought and love, and if he love not the teacher whom he has seen, he can not love God whom he has not seen. Even the physical charm of the teacher will make his picture of the Christ more beautiful. Nurture demands above all else that the teacher of a Beginners' Class suggest "One altogether lovely," to the sensitive, imaginative and imitative soul of the child, for her message to him is ever silently, but irresistibly, "Be ye imitators of me as I am of Christ."
The Place.—The place of meeting must fulfill certain conditions to give proper nurture.
Because of the restlessness of these years, it ought to afford opportunity for physical movement. Even if a separate room is not available, screens or curtains should make it possible for the children to change their position frequently. The separation will also remove the temptation for curiosity to obtain satisfaction through roving eyes. The place should provide comfortable seating arrangements, for impressions carried within from strained muscles and tired limbs are far stronger than from ideas that the teacher gives, and these will consequently receive the attention.
But it is not sufficient to plan for seclusion and comfort. Nurture thinks beyond and deeper than this. The child is gaining his first impressions of religious things during these years, and his ideas will be derived from what his senses give him. There is no way to give him the thought of the beauty of holiness, and the joy that the religion of Jesus Christ brings, except to make every thing associated with it as glad and beautiful as may be. Choice pictures, flowers, sunshine, order, all mysteriously transmit their beauty to the child's thought of God. The more attractive the visible things, the more magnetic the charm of the invisible. "Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God hath shined."
The Equipment.—The equipment is not to be a heterogeneous collection of things, and yet the child must be taught through his senses. A Bible which can be kept before the children and reverently handled, to teach reverence by suggestion, is of first importance. Little chairs, or an equally comfortable substitute, a blackboard and an instrument, if possible, will give good working capital.
Since taste is forming at this time and every thing has an influence in determining its direction, the beautiful pictures in black and white are gaining favor through their artistic execution and subdued coloring. To this equipment may be added special objects designed to make the facts of special lessons clearer—the sand table occasionally, or models. Thoughtful teachers are more and more convinced that while Kindergarten principles should obtain, the Kindergarten should not be moved bodily into the Sunday School. Values must be balanced, and over against the reasons which might be given for bringing in all the equipment of the week-day environment, there is this great fact:—the child is to be taught that religion is the supreme thing in the world, and he can learn it only by differentiating it in a tangible way from other things. This means that the methods, music, material and beauty associated with it ought to make it distinctive, and more attractive than any of the week-day surroundings.
After he learns that it is the chief thing in the world, he can learn how to bring it down to the common things of life without sacrificing its supremacy, instead of dragging the every-dayness into it.
The Program.—The program must be varied, because self control is weak, and attention will be given to one thing only so long as interest is active. Music should have a prominent place, provided it is meaningful, choice, and suggestive of the thought desired, in music as well as words. Since this is the rhythmic and imitative period of life, motion songs can be occasionally used, provided the motions are not mechanical and artificial. The foot notes which say that at I the hands should be clasped, at 2 they should wave, and at 3 be raindrops, miss the point of a motion song. Unless the child spontaneously expresses the thought which the song suggests to him, the motions have no value, aside from a rest exercise.
The entire program should be planned around the thought of leading the child into a genuine love for God. Nature is beautiful, but its place in Sunday School is subordinate to Him. The most exquisite song that ends with birds and flowers falls below the highest nurture. Love must be both aroused and expressed during the hour's session. Music, Scripture, the enumeration of His blessings, the joy over birthdays and new scholars He has sent, the lesson, the carefully selected pictures and stories of what His love has done for other boys and girls unlike them, an atmosphere of gladness and reverence will kindle it; the offering service, the prayer, Scripture and music will express it. The suggestion from teacher, place, program and lesson combined, should be a great, wonderful God who loves little children, as well as a Christ who took the children in His arms.
The Lesson.—The course known as "The Two Years' Course for Beginners" affords the best subject matter for the lessons for the following reasons:
Bible truths needed first in the life of a little child have been carefully selected and arranged in their logical order.
As many lessons as are needed to make each truth clear and to fix it in memory are devoted to it.
The setting for the truths to be taught is given in stories, not abstract statements.
The same Golden Text is used for all the lessons teaching one truth, is simple, intelligible and, by repetition in connection with several lessons, can be fixed.
The pictures accompanying the lessons are very choice both in theme and execution.
Since the only ideas the child will receive of the lesson must come through his senses and bodily activity, and since, of his senses, sight and touch make a clearer impression than hearing, large use should be made of them. Further, as this is the period of imitation of definite acts, the lesson should present forcibly and fascinatingly, an activity within his power to imitate.
The end sought, as a result of the nurture of this period, is that the child may become truly a child of God, and never know a time when he did not love Him.
This may be achieved, for the heart of a little child is open and peculiarly sensitized to the matchless story of Jesus Christ. When it is presented to him aright, he always responds in faith and love. In this response, the conditions upon which spiritual sonship is conferred are met, for, "As many as received Him, to them gave He the right to become children of God, even to them that believe on His name."