A Message on Temperance.
By John B. Gough
TO THE SUNDAY-SCHOOLS OF AMERICA. MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: I have been requested to send a message to the Sunday-schools in behalf of the total abstinence cause. I wish I could write to you all that is in my heart on this great question, but my time and ability are limited and my message must be short. We are sometimes told that total abstinence is not temperance. What is temperance? Let me give you a short reply. Temperance is the lawful gratification of a natural appetite. Is the appetite for intoxicating liquors a natural appetite? No. Therefore temperance is total abstinence from intoxicating liquors as a beverage. This principle is a sensible principle. When you are as old as I am, you will regret many things you have learned in the past; but you will never regret that you did not learn to use intoxicating liquor. I have never met a person, nor do I believe that you can find the person in the world, who would say, “I am fifty years of age, and I never drank a glass of liquor in my life, and I regret that I did not learn to drink it when I was young.” No. When you meet one who has never drunk, he tells you, “I am glad of it,” or, “I am proud of it.” A man once called on me, and said, “Mr. Gough, I want to tell you something. I am not a reformer. I care little for reforms, or missions, or Sunday-schools. They are all very well in their way, but they are not in my line. I have been an actor since I was eighteen, and I am now forty-three, and I never drank a glass of ale, wine, or spirits, in my life. What do you think of that?” “I am proud of it.” He had little care for reform, but he never drank liquor in his life, and was proud of it. Dear children, you would be shocked if you could read some of the letters that lie in my desk, that have been written to me by persons of all grades in society—young men, old men, lawyers, physicians, ministers of the gospel, teachers, mechanics, clerks, and some ladies—who have acquired the appetite for strong drink. One says, “Dives in hell never longed for a drop of water, as with all the power there is in me I long for drink.” Another says, “Is there any hope for me this side of the grave?” Another says, “God knows how near I have been to self-destruction through drink,” and so on. One poor man, actually holding my feet, cried out, “O Mr. Gough! help me out of this hell. Drink is my curse.” Yes, dear children, the cry comes from the inmates of lunatic asylums, “Drink is my curse;” from the states’ prisons, “Drink is my curse;” from innocent victims—wives, mothers, children, “Drink is my curse;” from the burning lips of the dying drunkard comes the despairing cry, “Drink is my curse.” There are broken hearts, blighted hopes, blackened characters, crushed intellects, and lost souls as the results of strong drink, and not a single individual but rejoices in his escape from it. Is not the total abstinence principle sensible? “But all who drink do not become drunkards.” I know that; but if fifty young men begin to drink, some will assuredly be ruined by it. Then there is a risk. Now we all desire safety and security. Suppose you desired to travel from New York to Chicago, and there were two lines of road—one on which there were accidents constantly occurring; on every train some disaster, passengers killed and wounded; in short, a very risky road;—and on the other, never since its opening had there been the slightest accident. Which road would you take? If you are sensible, and regard your own welfare, you would take the safe one. Suppose some one should tempt you to take the risky road, by telling you how much more beautiful the cars were, and what a jolly company you would find on board the train. You would say, “I care not so much for gaudy cars and jolly company as for my safety. I want to be safe.” Now, it is your safety we seek, when we urge you to abstain entirely from strong drink. There is no certainty that you will become victims if you begin to indulge, but there is a risk. Some say, “I can govern myself. I have a mind of my own.” What would you think of a captain of a steam vessel who would put on a full head of steam, and then knock down the man at the wheel? Or of the conductor on a railroad, who would let on the steam and then disable the engineer? You would say he was a reckless man. The steamer or the engine might get through without accident, but it might go crashing to destruction. So when a person uses that which weakens the power of his will, and depends on his weakened will to serve him,—uses that which warps his judgment, and then depends on his warped judgment to guide him,—uses that which affects his self-control, and then trusts his deranged self-control to keep him from danger—he is reckless. Simply because some men drink and do not become drunkards, can you? I once saw a man stand on a small platform outside the spire of a church, and look down on the pavement 150 feet below. Because he did it, can you? Think of these things before you run the risk, and remember what the risk is. Our principle is lawful. We have been told it is contrary to the Scriptures. One gentleman said to me, “If you can find a command in the Bible, Thou shalt abstain from intoxicating liquors as a beverage, I will abstain; but not till then.” Dear children, we want you to love the Bible, to obey the precepts of the Bible; but in view of the evils of intemperance, and in view of its cause, we ask of the Bible only a permission to let liquor alone. We lay our hand on this blessed book and ask, May we abstain? You do not search the Bible for a command, Thou shalt abstain from gambling; from dog-fighting; from horse-racing. Just in proportion to your love for the Bible will you abstain from these things, because they are detrimental to the best interests of society according to Bible principles. Therefore, since intemperance is caused by the use of strong drink; since in proportion to the use of such drink, drunkenness increases or diminishes; and since the most that can be said for this drink is that it is a needless luxury, and that the world would be the better and purer without it—therefore, you say, I will abstain, and give the weight of my influence, as long as I live, on the side of abstinence, sobriety, and purity. This is in accordance with the teachings of the Bible. How many of us, who are growing old, wish we could be boys again! Why? Because we see so many things to regret, so many wrong turns we have taken. To be a boy, with life before you, with the clean page on which to write your record, with opportunities coming that you can improve, what a position, what a privilege! To be an old man, with a record all stained and blotted, knowing that no mortal hand can clean the page; with opportunities unimproved, and lost, never to return—this is dreadful! A wicked man, who had been a stage driver, was, during the last few days of his life, very uneasy, and on his death-bed he constantly moved his feet, and looked distressed. When asked by his wife, “Harry, what is the matter?” he said, “Oh, I am on an awful down grade, and I can’t find the brake.” Dear young friends, your feet are on the brake. Keep them there. You have, under God, the future in your power; your destiny is in your own control. Remember there is no one evil in the world before which so many fall, as the evil of intemperance. I most earnestly desire that the youth of our country, especially our Sunday-school scholars, shall give all their influence against this great evil. May God help you to avoid the perils of life's journey, and the traps that are set for your feet, so that from your place of safety you may reach out your hand to help the tempted who are struggling in their chains, and may by self-denial be enabled to “fulfill the law of Christ,” by helping some poor, burdened souls, into the higher life of purity and freedom!—Christian Statesman.