THE WISE MAN'S CONTRASTS. THE human mind is prone to extremes. No matter what the object of its thoughts, it seldom preserves a just medium either in its pursuits, its sentiments, or its emotions. It is either immoderate or remiss; bigoted or latitudinarian; fanatical or formal; volatile and frivolous, or gloomy and despondent. Now visions of bliss float before its eye, and anon forms of terror haunt its fancy. Now it surrenders itself to the gratifications of sense, as though there were no happiness apart from sensual indulgences; and again it shrinks even from innocent pleasures as from images of death. Hence, we find among the ancients, the Epicureans and the Stoics: Alcibiades, on the one hand, as the personification of sensualism; and Diogenes, on the other, as the personification of asceticism. Thence follows the monk with his crucifix, his cowl, and his dreary cave, as opposed to the bearing and habits of the gay cavalier; and these have given place in turn to the radical religionist, as opposed to the baptized fashionist. Even our modern schools of philosophy are arrayed against each other by the antagonist systems of sensualism and idealism. But herein is the beneficent distinction of Christianity as a moral code. It avoids all extremes, and sanctions no extravagance. So far from recognising the cloistered cell, it sends us to the busy haunts of men, teaching us that "no man liveth unto himself," and that he who provideth not "for those of his own house, hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." So far from exacting in tribute the "lees and settlings of a melancholy blood," it teaches us "to rejoice with those who do rejoice," and "to use the world as not abusing it." "Eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart. Let thy garments be always white; and let thy head lack no ointment. Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest all the days of thy life." "How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, No feature of our holy religion is more to be admired than this: that while it enjoins what is right, it forbids nothing that is innocent; while it cautions us against forgetting ourselves, it would not prevent us from enjoying ourselves; aiming, as it does, to make us spiritual, but not at the expense of the conditions of animal life; pure, but not to the impeachment of Divine wisdom, "for every creature of God is good;" happy, not in forgetfulness of the end of our being, but by means of our moral discipline, and preparation for another and better world. In accordance with these views is the observation of Solomon, that "it is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting." Not that it is wrong to go to the house of feasting: there are times when we may, without impropriety, and for wise ends, meet around the festive board, or join the social circle; but it is better to go to the house of mourning. This may appear to be a strange estimation of life: better to see tears than smiles, to hear groans than laughter, to be environed by gloom and sadness than to bathe in sunlight! Such a sentiment must needs awaken a host of repellant associations, and not a few will be forward to dissent from Solomon's judgment, notwithstanding his worldwide reputation for wisdom. But it will not be questioned, by any reflecting mind, that the house of feasting tends to excite and foster emotions unfavourable to religion. Where is it that pride and vanity so often enter, or that sinful passions are so often enkindled, as in the house of feasting? When fashion attires herself in costliest style, and beauty wreathes her brow, and grace lends enchantment to the dance, and music's sweetest strains fall 1 Eccles. vii, 2, 4. upon the ravished ear, how readily may the heart be betrayed; and how much greater the danger when the richest viands and the choicest wines conspire to stimulate the palate and exhilarate the spirits! Hence the insincere compliment, the sinful compliance, the profane witticism, the immoderate indulgence, the adulterous eye and sinister purpose; pride, too, either gråtified or offended, giving rise in turn to haughtiness and to hate, to undue elation and gloomy jealousy. Whoever has entered the house of feasting, can bear witness to its numberless appeals to all that is opposed to either lowliness or purity of heart; and, among those who mingle in the favourite scenes of worldly pleasure, not one perhaps ever retires to his pillow with the conviction that his heart is the better in the sight of God. Indeed, if any scenes be peculiarly suited to avert reflection, and shut out of view all that concerns man's well-being, it is such as are implied in the house of feasting. Not unfrequently, the express object is to enchant the eye, enchain the ear, tempt the appetite, and enamour the heart, and, by consequence, to exclude whatever tends to moderate indulgence, or serves to restrain worldly pleasure: "Let joy be unconfined: No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet And when this is the case, (and it is always so when religion is intentionally excluded,) then the house of feasting is replete with the most insidious temptations; and he who enters it must leave behind him all circumspection and seriousness, and surrender his soul to its intoxicating scenes. Hence, the house of feasting tends to rivet around the heart the chains of worldliness, to deaden the sensibilities to all that is kind in sympathy, virtuous in happiness, ennobling in action, or important in life. In this house, how often has the heart been lifted up to forget God! has an unconquerable prejudice been imbibed against religion! has it become the aim of one's life to give and receive entertainments, to win admiration for self by ministering to the pleasures of others! thus steeling the heart in many instances against both the woes and the rights of others, that there may be no deficiency in the means of worldly display. It was in the house of feasting that Belshazzar praised the gods of gold and silver, and read his doom; that Sardanapalus was surprised and ruined; that Ahasuerus insulted and dethroned his queen; that Jehoshaphat was seduced by Ahab; that Alexander killed Clitus; that Baasha was murdered by Zimri; and that Herod gave the order for the execution of a man of God. And still it is true that in this house of feasting are many foes to man's best interests, not the less dangerous because seldom seen and never heeded; deadly foes to his sincerity, his virtue, his sobriety, his charity, his religion. Amid the excitements of company, he is apt to forget his responsibility, and, amid the seductions of sense, to lose sight of the interests of his soul; intent as he there is on pleasures which respect no natural sentiment, and preclude all real satisfaction; pleasures which allure to deceive, and infatuate to destroy their votaries for time and eternity. At the present day, there is an intimate connection established by the customs of society between this house of feasting, and certain houses of worldly amusement, and dishonest games, and degrading sensuality; houses where life is so represented in scenic acts as to unhinge the mind for real life; where the gambler lies in wait to allure the idle, and entrap the unwary; where the strange woman displays her fatal charms; or where the demon of intemperance arrays his damning goblets; houses which bear over their respective gateways the same inscription: "This is the way to hell, leading down to the chambers of death." Hence the greater danger of going once too often to this house of feasting, or of ever forgetting while there that life has its duties as well as its pastimes; that though well-timed recreation recruits exhausted strength, dissipation destroys it; that while all the senses may in turn be not unlawfully gratified, "the heart should be kept with all diligence." Solomon's judgment was the result of his own observation and experience; and though the house of feasting to which he referred may have changed its form and style since his day, it is still the same in its character and tendency. Here it is that the love of dress and company, of ease and pleasure, of balls and routs, of shows and games, has been indulged; unfitting one for either studious thought or rational enjoyment; perverting natural sensibility and moral principle; hopelessly enervating mind and body; and thus developing the character of either the pitiable fashionist or the despicable lounger. Here it is, too, that many a young man began his downward career; disregarding instruction, despising warnings, abusing his time. and talents; drinking deeper of the cup of madness, until they who looked forward to him as the prop of their declining years, bowed their heads in shame and anguish over his untimely grave. Here, too, those tastes and appetites were formed which are estranging that man from the duties and endearments of home. The evening seldom finds him in the midst of his once-loved family. And now the night is far spent. Those little ones have ceased to weep in sympathy with a mother's tears, overcome at last by the deep slumbers of childhood; but still she weeps, and waits, and watches, and yet he comes not! thus wasting his substance and imbruting his faculties, until they who called him father, shrink from his presence; and she who gave her heart to his keeping, mourns in silence over a husband worse than dead, a husband buried in his pollutions! On the other hand, the house of mourning tends to check and subdue those very emotions to which the house of feasting so insidiously contributes. How can one plume himself on the insignia of greatness, or on the means of luxurious living, when to enter the house of mourning is sometimes to behold the evidence that neither the honours nor the riches of the world can rescue their possessor from the cold grasp of death? How can he be incited" to make provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof," when that body which lust pampered and vanity adorned, and which now lies before him cold and stiff, is about to be consigned to the worms of the dust? How can his heart be lifted up to say, "My might and my power hath gotten me these," when, in another house of mourning, he beholds a fellow-being once standing higher and more favoured than himself, now pining in obscurity and pinched with want; the former owner of a splendid mansion now tenanting the poor man's hut? But there, in still another house of mourning, is one who has lain for years on a bed of pain and languishment. For him day brings no sunshine, and night no quiet rest; while |