123. Fountains Purified

Fountains Purified

2Ki_2:19-21 : ’93And the men of the city said unto Elisha, Behold, we pray thee, the situation of this city is pleasant, as my lord seeth; but the water is naught and the ground barren. And he said, Bring me a new cruse, and put salt therein, etc.’94

It is difficult to estimate how much of the prosperity and health of a city are dependent upon good water. The time when, through well-laid pipes, and from safe reservoir, an abundance of water from Croton or Ridgewood or Schuylkill is brought into the city, is appropriately celebrated with oration and pyrotechnic display. Thank God every day for clear, bright, beautiful, sparkling water as it drops in the shower or tosses up in the fountain or rushes out at the hydrant.

The city of Jericho, notwithstanding all its physical and commercial advantages, was lacking in this important element. There was enough water, but it was contaminated and the people were crying out by reason thereof. Elisha, the prophet, comes to the rescue. He says, ’93Get me a new cruse, fill it with salt, and bring it to me.’94 So the cruse of salt was brought to the prophet, and I see him walking out to the general reservoir, and he takes that salt and throws it into the reservoir, and lo! all the impurities depart through a supernatural and divine influence, and the waters are good and fresh and clear, and all the people clap their hands and lift up their faces in their gladness. Water for Jericho clear, bright, beautiful, God-given water!

At different times I have pointed out to you the fountains of municipal corruption; and this morning I propose to show you what are the means for the rectification of those fountains. There are four or five kinds of salt that have a cleansing tendency. So far as God may help me, I shall bring a cruse of salt to. the work and empty it into the great reservoir of municipal crime, sin, shame, ignorance and abomination.

In this work of cleansing our cities I have first to remark that there is a work for the broom and the shovel that nothing else can do. There always has been an intimate connection between iniquity and dirt. The filthy parts of the great cities are always the most iniquitous parts. The gutters and the pavements of some of the wards of New York illustrate and symbolize the character of the people in those wards. The first thing that a bad man does when he is converted is thoroughly to wash himself. There were this morning, on the way to the different churches, thousands of men in proper apparel, who, before their conversion, were unfit to don their Sabbath dress. When on the Sabbath I see a man uncleanly in his dress, my suspicions in regard to his moral character are aroused; and they are often well-founded. So as to allow no excuse for lack of ablution, God has cleft the continents with rivers and lakes, and has sunk five great oceans; and all the world ought to be clean. Away, then, with the dirt from our cities, not only because the physical health needs an ablution, but because all the great moral and religious interests of the cities demand it as a positive necessity. A filthy city always is and always will be a wicked city.

Another corrective influence that we would bring to bear upon the evils of our great cities is a Christian printing-press. The newspapers of any place are the test of its morality or immorality. The newsboy who runs along the street with a roll of papers under his arm is a tremendous force that cannot be turned aside, nor resisted, and, at his every step, the city is elevated or degraded. This hungry, all-devouring American mind must have something to read, and upon editors and authors and book publishers and parents and teachers rests the responsibility of what they should read. Almost every man you meet has a book in his hand or a newspaper in his pocket. What book is it you have in your hand? What newspaper is it you have in your pocket? Ministers may preach, reformers may plan, philanthropists may toil for the elevation of the suffering and the criminal; but until all the newspapers of the land and all the booksellers of the land set themselves against an iniquitous literature’97until then we shall be fighting against fearful odds. Every time the cylinders of our great publishing houses turn, they make the earth quake. From them goes forth a thought like an angel of light to feed and bless the world, or, like an angel of darkness, to smite it with corruption and sin and shame and death. May God, by his omnipotent Spirit, purify and elevate the American printing-press!

I go on further, and say we must depend upon the school for a great deal of correcting influence. A community can no more afford to have ignorant men in it than it can afford to have uncaged hyenas. Ignorance is the mother of hydra-headed crime. Thirty-one per cent, of all the criminals of New York State can neither read nor write. Intellectual darkness is generally the precursor of moral darkness. I know there are educated outlaws’97men who, through their sharpness of intellect, are made more dangerous. They use their fine penmanship in signing other people’92s names, and their science in ingenious burglaries, and their fine manners in adroit libertinism. They go their round of sin with well-cut apparel and dangling jewelry and watches of eighteen carats and kid gloves. They are refined, educated, magnificent villains. But that is the exception. Generally the criminal classes are as ignorant as they are wicked. For the proof of what I say, go into the prisons and the penitentiaries, and look upon the men and women incarcerated. The dishonesty in the eye, the low passion in the lip, are not more conspicuous than the ignorance in the forehead. The ignorant classes are always the dangerous classes. Demagogues marshal them. They are helmless, and are driven before the gale.

It is high time that all city and State authority, and the Federal Government, appreciate the awful statistics that while years ago in this country there was set apart forty-eight millions of acres of land for school purposes, there are now in New England one hundred and ninety-one thousand people who can neither read nor write, and in the State of Pennsylvania two hundred and twenty-two thousand who can neither read nor write, and in the State of New York two hundred and forty-one thousand who can neither read nor write, while in the United States there are nearly six millions who can neither read nor write’97statistics enough to stagger and confound any man who loves God and his country.

Now, in view of this fact, I am in favor of compulsory education. When parents are so besotted as to neglect this duty to the child, I say the law, with a strong hand, at the same time with a gentle hand, ought to lead these little ones into the light of intelligence and good morals. It was a beautiful tableau when in our city a swarthy policeman, having picked up a lost child in the street, was found appeasing its cries with a stick of candy he had bought at the apple-stand. That was well done and beautifully done. But, oh! these thousands of little ones through our streets who are crying for the bread of knowledge and intelligence. Shall we not give it to them?

The officers of the law ought to go down into the cellars, and up into the garrets, and bring out these benighted little ones, and put them under educational influences; after they have passed through the bath and under the comb, putting before them the spelling-book, and teaching them to read the Lord’92s Prayer and the Sermon on the Mount: ’93Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’94 Our city ought to be father and mother both to these outcast little ones. As a recipe for the cure of much of the woe and want and crime of our city, I give the words which Thorwaldsen had chiseled on the open scroll in the statue of John Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, ’93Let there be light!’94

Reformatory societies are an important element in the rectification of the public fountains. Without calling any of them by name, I refer more especially to those which recognize the physical as well as the moral woes of the world. There was pathos and a great deal of common sense in what the poor woman said to Dr. Guthrie when he was telling her what a very good woman she ought to be. ’93Oh,’94 said she, ’93if you were as hungry and cold as I am, you would think of nothing else.’94 I believe the great want of our city is the Gospel and something to eat. Faith and repentance are of infinite importance; but they cannot satisfy an empty stomach! You have to go forth in this work with the bread of eternal life in your right hand, and the bread of this life in your left hand, and then you can touch them, imitating the Lord Jesus Christ, who first broke the bread and fed the multitude in the wilderness, and then began to preach, recognizing the fact that while people are hungry they will not listen, and they will not repent. We want more common-sense in the distribution of our charities; fewer magnificent theories, and more hard work.

The great remedial influence, however, is the Gospel of Christ. Take that down through the lanes of suffering. Take that down amid the hovels of sin. Take that up amid the mansions and palaces of your city. That is the salt that can cure all the poisoned fountains of public iniquity. Do you know that in this cluster of three cities, New York, Jersey City and Brooklyn, there are a great multitude of homeless children? You see I speak more in regard to the youth and the children of the country, because old villains are seldom reformed, and therefore I talk more about the little ones. They sleep under the stoops, in the burned-out safe, in the wagons in the streets, on the barges, wherever they can get a board to cover them. And in the summer they sleep all night long in the parks. Their destitution is well set forth by an incident. A city missionary asked one of them, ’93Where is your home?’94 Said he, ’93I don’92t have no home, sir!’94 ’93Well, where are your father and mother?’94 ’93They are dead, sir.’94 ’93Did you ever hear of Jesus Christ?’94 ’93No, I don’92t think I ever heard of him.’94 ’93Did you ever hear of God?’94 ’93Yes, I’92ve heard of God. Some of the poor people think it kind of lucky at night to say something about that before they go to sleep. Yes, sir, I’92ve heard of him.’94 Think of a conversation like that in a Christian city!

How many are waiting for you to come out in the spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ and rescue them from the wretchedness here? Oh, that the Church of God had arms long enough and hearts warm enough to take them up! How many of them there are! As I was thinking of the subject this morning, it seemed to me as though there was a great brink, and that these little ones, with cut and torn feet, were coming on toward it. And here is a group of orphans. Oh, fathers and mothers, what do you think of fatherless and motherless little ones? No hand at home to take care of their apparel; no heart to pity them. Said one little one, when the mother died, ’93Who will take care of my clothes now?’94 The little ones are thrown out in this great, cold world. They are shivering on the brink like lambs on the verge of a precipice. Does not your blood run cold as they go over it?

And here is another group that come on toward the precipice. They are the children of besotted parents. They are worse off than orphans. Look at that pale cheek; woe bleached it. Look at that gash across the forehead; the father struck it. Hear that heart-piercing cry; a drunken mother’92s blasphemy compelled it. And we come out and we say, ’93Oh, ye suffering, peeled and blistered ones, we come to help you.’94 ’93Too late,’94 cry thousands of voices; ’93the path we travel is steep down, and we can’92t stop’97too late.’94 And we catch our breath and we make a terrific outcry. ’93Too late!’94 is echoed from the garret to the cellar, from the ginshop and the brothel. ’93Too late!’94 It is too late, and they go over.

Here is another group, an army of neglected children. They come on toward the brink, and every time they step ten thousand hearts break. The ground is red with the blood of their feet. The air is heavy with their groans. Their ranks are being filled up from all the houses of iniquity and shame. Skeleton Despair pushes them on toward the brink. The death-knell has already begun to toll, and the angels of God hover like birds over the plunge of a cataract. While these children are on the brink they halt, and throw out their hands, and cry, ’93Help! help!’94 O, Church of God, will you help? Men and women bought by the blood of the Son of God, will you help, while Christ cries from the heavens, ’93Save them from going down; I am the ransom.’94

I stopped on the street and just looked at the face of one of those little ones. Have you ever examined the faces of the neglected children of the poor? Other children have gladness in their faces. When a group of them rush across the road it seems as though a spring gust had unloosened an orchard of apple-blossoms. But the children of the poor! There is but little ring in their laughter, and it stops quick, as though some bitter memory tripped it. They have an old walk. They do not skip or run up on the lumber just for the pleasure of leaping down. They never bathed in the mountain stream. They never waded in the brook for pebbles. They never chased the butterfly across the lawn, putting their hat right down where it was just before. Childhood has been dashed out of them. Want waved its wizard wand above the manger of their birth, and withered leaves are lying where God intended a budding giant of battle.

Once in a while one of these children gets out. Here is one, for instance. At ten years of age he is sent out by his parents, who say to him: ’93Here is a basket; now go off and beg and steal.’94 The boy says: ’93I can’92t steal.’94 They kick him into a corner. That night he puts his swollen head into the straw; but a voice comes from heaven, saying: ’93Courage, poor boy, courage!’94 Covering up his head from the bestiality, and stopping his ears from the cursing, he gets on up better and better. He washes his face clean at the public hydrant. With a few pennies earned by running errands, he gets a better coat. Rough men, knowing that he comes from a low street, say: ’93Back with you, you little villain, to the place where you came from!’94 But that night the boy says: ’93God help me! I can’92t go back;’94 and quicker than ever mother flew at the cry of a child’92s pain, the Lord responds from the heavens, ’93Courage, poor boy, courage!’94

His bright face gets him a position. After a while he is second clerk. Years pass on, and he is first clerk. Years pass on. The glory of young manhood is on him. He comes into the firm. He goes on from one business success to another. He has achieved great fortune. He is the friend of the Church of God, the friend of all good institutions, and one day he stands talking to the Board of Trade, or to the Chamber of Commerce. People say: ’93Do you know who that is? Why, that is a merchant prince, and he was born on Elm Street.’94 But God says in regard to him something better than that: ’93These are they which came out of great tribulation, and had their robes washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb.’94

Oh, for some one to write the history of boy heroes and girl heroines who have triumphed over want and starvation, and filth and rags! Yea, the record has already been made’97made by the hand of God; and when these shall come at last with songs and rejoicing, it will take a very broad banner to hold the names of the battlefields on which they got the victory.

Some years ago a roughly-clad, ragged boy came into my brother’92s office in New York and said: ’93Mr. Talmage, lend me five dollars.’94 My brother said: ’93Who are you?’94 The boy replied: ’93I am nobody. Lend me five dollars.’94 ’93What do you want to do with five dollars?’94 ’93Well,’94 the boy replied, ’93my mother is sick and poor, and I want to go into the newspaper business, and I shall get a home for her, and I will pay you back.’94 My brother gave him the five dollars, of course never expecting to see it again; but he said: ’93When will you pay it?’94 The boy said: ’93I will pay it in six months, sir.’94

Time went by, and one day a lad came into my brother’92s office and said: ’93There’92s your five dollars.’94 ’93What do you mean? What five dollars?’94 inquired my brother. ’93Don’92t you remember that a boy came in here six months ago, and wanted to borrow five dollars to go into the newspaper business?’94 ’93Oh, yes, I remember; are you the lad?’94 ’93Yes,’94 he replied; ’93I have got along nicely. I have got a nice home for my mother’97she is sick yet’97and I am as well clothed as you are, and there’92s your five dollars.’94 Oh, was he not worth saving? Why, that lad is worth fifty such boys as I have sometimes seen moving in elegant circles, never put to any use for God or man. Worth saving! I go further than that, and tell you they are not only worth saving, but they are being saved. One of these lads picked up from our streets and sent West by a benevolent society wrote East, saying: ’93I am getting along first-rate. I am on probation in the Methodist Church. I shall be entered as a member the first of next month. I now teach a Sunday-school class of eleven boys. I get along first-rate with it. This is a splendid country to make a living in. If the boys running around the street with a blacking-box on their shoulder, or a bundle of papers under their arms, only knew what high old times we boys have out here, they wouldn’92t hesitate about coming West, but come the first chance they got.’94

So some by one humane and Christian visitation, and some by another, are being rescued. In one reform school, through which two thousand of the little ones passed, one thousand nine hundred and ninety-five turned out well. In other words, only five of the two thousand turned out badly. There are thousands of them who, through Christian societies, have been transplanted to beautiful homes all over this land, and there are many who, through the rich grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, have already won the crown. A little girl was found in the streets of Baltimore and taken into one of the reform societies, and they said to her: ’93What is your name?’94 She said: ’93My name is Mary.’94 ’93What is your other name?’94 She said: ’93I don’92t know.’94 So they took her into the reform society, and as they did not know her last name, they always called her ’93Mary Lost,’94 since she had been picked up out of the street. But she grew on, and after awhile the Holy Spirit came to her heart, and she became a Christian child, and she changed her name; and when anybody asked her what her name Was, she said: ’93It used to be Mary Lost; but now, since I have become a Christian, it is Mary Found.’94

For this vast multitude are we willing to go forth from this morning’92s service and see what we can do, employing all the agencies I have spoken of for the rectification of the poisoned fountains? We live in a beautiful city. The lines have fallen to us in pleasant places, and we have a goodly heritage; and any man who does not like a residence in our city must be a most uncomfortable and unreasonable man. But, my friends, the material prosperity of a city is not its chief glory. There may be fine houses and beautiful streets, and that all be the garniture of a sepulchre. Some of the most prosperous cities of the world have gone down, not one stone left upon another. But a city may be in ruins long before a tower has fallen, or a column has crumbled, or a tomb has been defaced. When in a city the churches of God are full of cold formalities and inanimate religion; when the houses of commerce are the abode of fraud and unholy traffic; when the streets are filled with crime unarrested and sin unenlightened and helplessness unpitied’97that city is in ruins, though every church were a St. Peter’92s, and every monied institution were a Bank of England, and every library were a British Museum, and every house had a porch like that of Rheims, and a roof like that of Amiens, and a tower like that of Antwerp, and traceried windows like those of Freiburg.

My brethren, our pulses beat rapidly the time away, and soon we shall be gone; and what we have to do for the city in which we live we must do right speedily, or never do it at all. In that day when those who have wrapped themselves in luxuries and despised the poor shall come to shame and everlasting contempt, I hope it may be said of you and me that we gave bread to the hungry, and wiped away the tear of the orphan, and to the wanderer of the street we opened the brightness and benediction of a Christian home; and then, through our instrumentality, it shall be known on earth and in heaven that Mary Lost became Mary Found!

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage