p. 12 | Does Motherhood Pay? by Helen Adair

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Mar 7, 1911

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 38, No. 10.

Does Motherhood Pay?

By Helen Adair

HE eternal sacrifice of motherhood" was never more fully exemplified, nor the inevitable law of compensation more gloriously vindicated, than in the life of Susanna Wesley. She was a lady both by birth and breeding, and was not only beautiful, but accomplished, a woman of rare judgment and sterling piety; yet she cheerfully poured out her youth, beauty, comfort, health, accomplishments, her wisdom, and her life, before the altar of childhood.

In the midst of poverty and misfortune, during a period of riot and outrage, she gave birth to nineteen children. Sacrifices for them, however, did not cease with their birth. During the long, trying years of infancy, childhood, and youth, she personally attended to their creature comforts, and to their mental and moral education. On, into mature life, she carried them each on her heart, saving them from false moves, and encouraging them in right paths, by her prudent and loving counsel.

The training of her children began with their birth. They were dressed and undressed, fed and rocked to sleep, at set times. When only a year old, they had a wholesome fear of the rod, and learned to cry softly, so that, altho the house was full of children, it was no more noisy than many a home where there is only one. She insisted on perfect obedience, believing that this was the foundation of all true education, and the corner-stone of all true happiness. She believed in sowing the soil of their heart gardens with good seed before the enemy had opportunity to sow tares. When they were not yet old enough to speak or to know how to kneel, she taught them to be quiet at family prayers; and, as soon as they could talk, every morning and evening, they learned to lisp the sweetest Name in prayer and praise. When they knew how to use a knife and fork, they were allowed to sit at the table with their parents, asking softly for what they wanted, and eating thankfully whatever was prepared for the family. Since they were never allowed to eat between meals, this last was not a very difficult thing to do. "Early to bed" was another maxim to which Mrs. Wesley firmly adhered in the training of her children. First came family prayers, then supper, and by seven o'clock she was ready to wash and undress the children, beginning with the youngest, and ending with the eldest. At eight o'clock, all were tucked in for the night, and a blessed season remained for the sweet communion and quiet enjoyment of the weary father and mother.

Crying never won anything in the Epworth parsonage. In sickness and in health the children were expected to be obedient, polite, and unselfish. One result was, the most unpleasant medicine could be given without any difficulty. Much of the clamor and hostility incident to childhood was also banished by the invariable rule that no promise was allowed to be broken, no gift reclaimed, and no brother's or sister's belongings taken. Temptations to falsehood were almost entirely eliminated by the habit of never punishing them for a naughtiness confessed.

As soon as one of her children was five years old, she became its schoolmistress. Samuel Wesley, her grandson, says that "she had the happy talent of inducing a child's mind with every kind of useful knowledge in such a way as to stamp it indelibly on the memory." No talking or playing was allowed in school hours, and no lesson was ever left until it was perfectly learned. At the close of the morning session, all that had been learned that morning was repeated; and at the close of the afternoon session, all that had been learned during the day was repeated. The progress made under such a teacher and such methods was "almost incredible."

When their house was burned, her children were kindly received into several different families, and were, therefore, separated from their mother for a time, and allowed to mingle with good and bad children, and grow up more as children usually do. When she was at last able to gather her family together again, she had a difficult task to bring them back to the good old reverent and obedient ways. They had had a taste of the "tree of knowledge of good and evil." But "she set herself bravely to recover the lost ground. Several new features were now introduced into the training," says John Telford. "Psalms were sung both at the opening and close of school. . . . The habit of general retirement at five o'clock . . . was then entered upon. The oldest child took the youngest that could speak, the second the next, and thus all the children formed themselves into pairs to read over the Evening Psalms, with a chapter from the New Testament. Before breakfast the Morning Psalms and a chapter of the Old Testament were read in the same way." In addition to all this, she read to her children and servants, and explained spiritual things to them so interestingly and effectively that one boy told his parents, and they asked permission to attend. Then others joined, until, at one time, two hundred persons were present, and many more unable to enter because of lack of room. Besides this, she set apart, every evening, a little time to talk privately with her children, each child taking his turn on certain evenings. Thus her children breathed in an earnest and spiritual atmosphere from their earliest infancy.

THE LARGEST SHIP YET—THE EUROPA (From the "Scientific American")

Some thought that she was unnecessarily active in spiritual matters, and inexcusably strict with her children. Her life certainly was swallowed up in the life of her children to a degree that few mothers knew anything about. Her sacrifice was complete. What about the compensation? Did it pay?

"Such was the effect of her training that his father admitted John to the communion when he was only eight years old."

When he was a young man and Fellow of Lincoln, he wrote to his mother: "If you can spare me only that little part of Thursday evening which you formerly bestowed upon me in another manner, I doubt not but it would be as useful now for correcting my heart, as it was then in forming my judgment."

In later life, both John and Charles continued the habit of general retirement at five o'clock, and the love for religious music that grew out of their early morning and evening devotions finally bore rich sheaves of sacred song.

When sixteen, John's scholarly brother, Samuel, writes of him to his father: "Jack is with me, and a brave boy, learning Hebrew as fast as he can." Later on John and Charles formed the habit of conversing in Latin. At twenty-one, John is described as "the very sensible and acute collegian, baffling every man by the subtleties of logic, and laughing at them for being so easily routed; a young fellow of the finest classical taste, of the most liberal and manly sentiments, his writing showing the gentleman and the scholar." An extract from one of his letters to Samuel at this time shows how he regarded his mother: "The two things which I most wished for of almost anything in the world were to see my mother and Westminster once again."

We are told that John had some minor back-slidings for a time after leaving home; but the old habits prevailed, and he was finally thoroughly and gloriously converted. From that time on, his path was a bright and shining light that shone more and more to its setting, and has continued to send up an afterglow that time itself can never quench.

He was temperate, exceedingly careful in the choice of his friends, generous and kind, and so unselfish that he would go without common necessities in order to help the unfortunate. "When he had an income of thirty pounds a year, he lived on twenty-eight, and gave away two. Next year he received sixty pounds, and gave thirty-two in charity. By limiting his expenses to the same sum, he was able to give away sixty-two pounds the third year, and ninety-two the fourth."

For sixty years, he rose at four o'clock in the morning, and was in the habit of not wasting one moment of time during the eighteen working hours. He read his history, poetry, and philosophy on horseback, while going from one appointment to another; and during his thousands of miles of such traveling, through dangers manifold, his piety was so sincere that he knew what it was to have God heal and protect him, and even his horses, in times of need.

Like Daniel, John Wesley dared to stand alone and trust the consequences with God. He feared neither single rioters nor mobs, but moved steadily on doing the work to which he was called, and oft-times found that his Master caused even his enemies to be at peace with him. Shut out from the churches, he resorted to the fields, and, in the midst of "formalism, sensualism, and infidelity," lifted up Christ and His righteousness, demonstrating afresh the promise, "And I, if I be lifted up, . . . will draw."

"During his half century of itinerant life, he traveled a quarter of a million miles, and delivered more than forty thousand sermons." He crossed the Atlantic twice, paid three visits to the continent, and sailed forty-two times across the Irish Channel. "His service to popular literature entitles him to a distinguished place among the benefactors of the eighteenth century. Most of his writings and his brother's hymns were published at prices that put them within the reach of all. Many were in the form of penny tracts, so that even the poorest could purchase them." "His twelve rules for a helper are still cherished as the guiding principles of a Methodist

preacher. One original hymn of his, a paraphrase of the Lord's Prayer in three parts, will be found in the present Wesleyan Hymn Book." There may be others, but it is not certain which are his and which are his brother's.

Mrs. Wesley died at last, and her funeral sermon was preached by her beloved John; but "the mother lived on in her sons and in the glorious work which they were doing for God and their country. Her name has become one of the household names of the world. Isaac Taylor says, with great justice, 'The Wesleys' mother was the mother of Methodism in a religious and moral sense; for her courage, her submissiveness to authority, the high tone of her mind, its independence, and its self-control, the warmth of her devotional feelings, and the practical direction given to them, came up and were visibly repeated in the character and conduct of her sons.'" Besides her nineteen children, millions of others have arisen to call her blessed, some, doubtless, during the ceaseless ages of eternity. At the conference before John Wesley died, there were 71,463 members in his Societies in the Old World, 48,610 in the New. The Methodist family throughout the world now numbers over five and a half million members. If the Sunday-school scholars and attendants on public worship be added, the number would reach over twenty-five millions.

"Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it DIE, it bringeth forth much fruit."