MY HANDS ARE TIED by Dudley Marvin Canright

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 24, 1877

“MY HANDS ARE TIED.”

By Dudley Marvin Canright

Yes; I have heard that so many times within the last few weeks that I could say it in my sleep. “My hands are tied.” So says brother A, and so repeats brother B, and so cries brother C, and so it goes. But how are their hands tied? Oh! one has bought a large piece of land. It does not bring him anything; he has no ready money. His hands are tied. Ask him to do for the cause of God,—“My hands are tied.” Ask him to pay on s. B; he has no money, no income. Ask him to take the papers; he has no money, and yet he is worth from three to fifteen thousand dollars, though he is getting to be an old man of from fifty-five to seventy years. What is he waiting for? Oh! he wants to sell, very badly. But how badly? Not badly enough to sacrifice a hundred dollars on five thousand. No; he had rather live and scrimp himself, and work beyond his strength, and give nothing to the cause of God, and even do without our periodicals, than to sell off a few acres of land and untie his hands.

Another man's hands are tied in another manner. He has all in a farm, or an extra farm, or some fine stock, and so his hands are tied. Can't get a dollar. Money is all tied up, debts are pressing. “Must pay my debts first,” he says; and there he is.

Here is another poor old man; his hands are tied; and his wife's hands are tied also. How are they tied? They are both perhaps from sixty-five to seventy years of age. Not a child in the world, or if they have, they are all grown up, married, and were provided with comfortable homes long ago; and this old couple, who fear God, and love this message above everything, who believe the world is coming to an end in five or ten years at the outside, and who know they cannot live a dozen or fifteen years any way,—these same old pilgrims have from three to ten thousand dollars tied up in a large farm, and their time is all tied up in taking care of it.

How much more sensible it would be for them to sell that farm, and buy a neat, snug little house and two or three acres of land for one quarter or one-third of what they have invested in that which is a burden to them! If they would do this, they could live much more comfortably, have fewer cares, more time to serve God, with several thousand dollars out at interest. Their hands would then be untied, and they could help the cause of God. Why don't you do it, brethren and sisters? “Oh! we cannot get anything for our place. Everything is down in the market.” Well, friends, the house and lot you want to buy is down just as low as your property, and a little of your money will buy a good deal from other people just as well as a little of their money will buy a good deal of yourself, so that excuse don't amount to much after all. But suppose it does? Hadn't you better sacrifice a few hundred dollars, and get your hands untied for the five or ten years you have yet to live, than thus to go down to the grave, and leave somebody else to untie your property and scatter it in six months for you? I guess it would be sold then, and at a much larger sacrifice than you would need to have made yourself. Besides, if you would untie your hands now, you might have the satisfaction of putting some of your means into the cause of God while you live. It is needed now very much. It may not be five years hence.

Where is the sense in an aged couple of from sixty to seventy years with not a child at home, keeping a great house and barn and a large stock and farm, keeping hired help, and working and fretting out their lives in that manner? When you had a flock of boys and girls or young men and women around you, and were hale and strong yourself, that was not only very sensible but very enjoyable. But that day is past now, and your circumstances are changed. Had you not better shape your affairs a little different for the balance of your life? Come, fathers and mothers, don't be so willing to sit there with your hands tied. I am afraid it is a little comfortable to you. If it is not, show your uneasiness by making some effort to get out of it.

D. M. CANRIGHT.