The Influence of a Godly Home
AMONG the influences which count for high character in a man's life none is comparable for a moment to the influence of a godly home. In such a home the writer was reared, and for that he will never cease to be grateful. In his thought, at least, he thanks God for it nearly every day of his life. The charm of the influence of that home grows sweeter with the years. The memory of it is pictured in colors drawn from the skies. Nothing stands out quite so prominently now in connection with it as its genial and distinctly religious atmosphere. The foundation of the home life was the family altar. No other interest, however imperative, was allowed to encroach upon the hour for morning and evening devotions. A proposition to omit the morning or the evening meal would have met with just as much favor as the proposition to omit the morning or evening prayers. There were times when it was urgent that the harvest should be gathered. The days suitable for work may have been few. The crop may have suffered in consequence. No matter, the workmen must be brought together in the morning for the reading of the Bible and for prayers. The reading of the portion of the Scripture was never cut short under such circumstances. Contrasted with the commercial spirit of the age in which we live, the picture of my father's devotion to the religious interests of his family, bending gradually under the weight of the years, but ripening meantime for the eternal life, is like a vision of heaven. My father's efforts in these directions were seconded and strongly reinforced by the spirit of my mother. Readily and heartily did she co-operate in every good word and work for the benefit of the home. She was the very impersonation of patience and devotion to the highest things. It was her custom on Sunday afternoons to gather the children about her for the reading of good books and literature generally. Bible study came in here for its full share, too. It was at her knee that I formed my first taste for good literature. What heavenly sweetness was in her voice! Little do Christian fathers and mothers know what a safeguard they throw about their children in the years when the old home has been left behind, by faithfulness to the family altar. And little, alas! it is to be feared, do those who neglect it realize of what a safeguard they are thus depriving their children. Music and healthful amusements were wisely interspersed. Freedom was the atmosphere of the home; no unnecessary restraints chafed our young and rising spirits, though it was always understood that the wishes of our parents formed the final court of appeal in all things. In the good providence of God I have been permitted to become a student successively in four high-grade institutions — one of them a state university, two of them among the very best of the universities of their respective denominations, the other an advanced postgraduate seminary. But as I view my educational opportunities through the perspective of the years, from the viewpoint of middle life, I have not the slightest hesitation in saying that the greatest institution in which I was ever permitted to be matriculated as a student and learner was the dear old farmhouse among the hills. Its lessons abide, its memory is like sweet incense to the soul, its ideals float before the vision of my thought to-day, its touch upon my spirit is the touch of heaven and of God. “Home, that spot of earth supremely
blest,
A dearer, sweeter place than all
rest.”