p. 51 | Whose Suggestion?

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 6, 1859

Whose Suggestion?

I PRAY in my closet daily. I honor religion in my intercourse with men. I give of my substance to the poor, relieve the oppressed, and aid in every good work. Will I not be guiltless then if I omit just this one duty? I often speak a word of warning to the impenitent, a word of encouragement to the christian. I supply my house with religious books and papers. Is it a sin, if I just pass over silently family worship.

Christian father, this suggestion comes from the evil one. He knows and dreads the power of the family altar, therefore he whispers excuse after excuse to free you from that duty. Husband, father, brother, friend, defeat this deep-laid plan of the adversary. Say, ‐Get thee behind me, Satan.‐ This victory you must gain. Upon it depends more than you think.

Family prayer! How salutary, how powerful, how wide-reaching its influence! It is the brightest, the purest link of that early train of events that throws a hallowed sweetness, an irresistible power, over the memories of childhood. How many a youth cast on the wide world has been kept from vicious companions by home remembrances. How many others, rearing families of their own in the fear of God, have kindled the sacred fire at the same altar, where parents and children, guests and servants, all listened to the word of life from the old family Bible, all bowed the knee together as the wants of each were presented at the throne of grace, and the offering went up as sweet incense.

Christian father, the center, the bond, the guide of that loved circle, is it possible that in your house this one thing is wanting? Let me plead with you, or rather, let those who are dearer to you than life, the prattlers on your knee, the olive-plants growing up around your table, plead with you as I cannot. Does this seem to you like a great cross? For their sakes take it up. In the presence of those into whose hearts your words sink, daily call down upon them the blessing of Almighty God.

Say not to-morrow. To-day begin. Another day. Ah! what may happen? The last waking hour of a christian father was spent at the family altar. The next morning's sun beamed sadly upon his orphan children, while his own form lay crisped and bruised beneath the smouldering ruins of that fallen wall.

A few months passed, and more than one of those children for the first time approached the sacramental table. Who can tell the influence which the time-honored practice of worshiping God in that family, in connection with that last prayer, exerted in leading them to give themselves to the service of the God of their father?

‐Work while it is day; the night cometh, when no man can work.‐—Sel.