CHAPTER XXX. Be Faithful

Be Faithful

Life may be compared to this book in two respects. First, it has a beginning, second, an end. It must not be measured, however, by the number of years one lives as we would number the pages of this book, for “length of years is no proper test of length of life.” But life must be measured by what one feels, thinks and does. In the matchless phrase of Paul: “To live is Christ.”

The exhortation of this chapter is beautifully illustrated by many characters of the Bible and history. Hananiah, “a faithful man;” Timothy, “faithful in the Lord;” Tychius and Epaphras, “faithful ministers;” Onesimus and Silvanus, “faithful brothers,” and Antipas, “a faithful martyr.” Julius Palmer in Queen Mary’s time, being asked to recant his faith in Christ, said that he rather would yield his life. Latimer said that Smithfield had long groaned for him, but he had prayed that he might be firm in death. When the hour of execution came, he knelt and prayed, and, as the flames shot up about him, he cried: “Father of heaven, receive my soul.”

In the first century lived a boy by the name of Polycarp. He was taught by John the Apostle. After embracing the Christian religion he studied to preach and finally became a bishop. Persecution soon raged against the followers of Christ and this man was arrested. On the way to court, Irenarch, Herod and his father Nicetes met him. They took him into their chariot and counseled him: “What harm is it to say ‘Lord Cæsar’ and to sacrifice and be safe?” Polycarp replied, “I will not follow your advice,” whereupon they thrust him from the chariot, bruising his thigh. At the Stadium the procunsul urged him: “Swear and I will release thee.” “Reproach Christ!” rejoined Polycarp, “eighty and six years have I served Him, and He has never wronged me, and how can I blaspheme my King who hath saved me?” “Swear by the fortune of Cæsar,” cried the procunsul. “If you still vainly contend to make me swear by the fortune of Cæsar,” said Polycarp, “affecting an ignorance of my real character, hear me frankly declare what I am. I am a Christian.” “I will have wild beasts,” cried the procunsul, “I will expose you to them unless you repent.” “Call them,” replied Polycarp. “I will tame your spirit by fire, since you despise the wild beasts, unless you repent,” said the officer. “You threaten,” answered Polycarp, “with fire that burns for a moment, and is then extinct, but you are ignorant of the future judgment, and the fire of eternal punishment reserved for the ungodly. But why delay? Do as you please.” Saying this he was led away and burnt at the stake, which he made memorable by one of the most beautiful prayers ever uttered.

A Roman Emperor said to a Greek architect, “Build me a grand coliseum, and if it suits me, I will crown you in the presence of my people, and I will make a great day of festival on your account.” The architect did the work magnificently. The day for opening arrived. In the coliseum were the emperor and the architect. The former arose, amid the plaudits of a vast assembly, and said, “We have gathered here to-day to open this coliseum, and to honor the Greek architect. It is a great day for the Roman Empire. Let this building be prosperous, and let honor be put on the Greek architect. O! we must have a festival day. Bring out those Christians and let them be put to death at the mouth of the lions!”

The Christians were put in the center of the amphitheater. It was to be a great celebration in their destruction. Then the lions, hungry and three-fourths starved, were let out of their dens in the side of the amphitheater, and they came forth with mighty spring to destroy and rend the Christians, and all the galleries shouted, “Huzza! Huzza! Long live the Emperor!” Then the Greek architect arose in one of the galleries, and shouted until, in the vast assemblage, all heard him, “I, too, am a Christian!”

They seized him in their fury and flung him to the wild beasts, until his body, bleeding and dead, was tumbled over and over again in the dust of the amphitheater. He was “faithful unto death!”

UNFAITHFULNESS AND ITS CAUSE.

Many boys start well in the Christian life, but in a brief time stray away. They put their hand to the plow but soon look back. They boil over with enthusiasm while the interest is at white heat, but when trials and ridicule come they follow Christ at a distance. They renounce the world for a season, but like Demas soon come to it again. Many who have at some time been numbered with the saints have later, like Judas, turned out to be betrayers.

Benedict Arnold battled nobly for the American colonies, but he blackened his fair name beyond the power of rehabilitation when he plotted to secure and betray West Point. It is pathetic to read of his last hours in London when he donned his old American uniform, put on the insignia that Washington gave him after his victory at Saratoga, and said: “Let me die in this old uniform in which I fought my battles. May God forgive me for ever putting on any other.”

This reminds us of Esau’s remorse when he lost his chieftainship, and the despair of Judas after selling his Master. Infidelity to trust is an awful sin. Unfaithfulness is inexcusable and often brings with it direst penalty. It is a gradually increasing sin. There is first a lack of love to God. Then, like Peter on the sea and Elijah under the juniper tree, disbelief creeps into the heart, earnestness is lost, unwatchfulness results, joy vanishes and unholy living follows. In the end, unless there is a returning to God like the prodigal son to his father, death becomes sad and eternity awful.

DEAD ON THE FIELD OF HONOR.

Faithfulness is a beautiful and noble characteristic, which never fails to bring respect and honor. Fame comes only to a few, but faithfulness should actuate the life of every boy. Latour D’Auberque was only a private soldier who defended alone a fort in a mountain pass against a regiment of Austrian soldiers. He knew it was important that the Austrian army should not pass through this mountain defile, and he hastened to inform the garrison of their approach. When he arrived he found the soldiers had deserted, leaving their guns.

D’Auberque loaded rapidly and fired upon the advancing regiment, causing fearful havoc. For one hour he kept the Austrians at bay. Finally he raised a flag and sounded a bugle, thus announcing the fort would surrender if the garrison should be permitted to carry out their arms and depart in safety. The proposition was accepted, and D’Auberque took his arms full of guns and marched out alone. “Where are the others?” cried the Austrians. “There are no others,” replied the brave grenadier. “I defended the fort alone.” The Austrians threw their caps in the air and shouted “Hurrah!” They honored the man who could and would stand alone, though many of their comrades had fallen under his fire. When Napoleon heard of the brave action, he offered to make him an officer, but D’Auberque refused to accept. One day he was killed in battle. Whenever after the roll was called, a grenadier, by the command of Napoleon, stepped forward and answered, “Dead on the field of honor.”

THE PROMISE TO THE “FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.”

When John was banished by the cruel Domitian to the isle of Patmos, he had a vision in which he was commanded to write to the pastor of the church in Smyrna concerning many things. He closed his letter with these words: “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.” What a promise! No other person ever offered such a reward with such a condition. Faithfulness must characterize the aspirant, not for a few days, months or years, but “unto death.” Then there are no terrors for the Christian. As the bee loses its power to hurt when its sting has been removed, so death had no sting for the child of God. It lost its power to harm when Christ died for us.

THE ARAB MARTYR.

It was about three hundred and fifty years ago that a martyrdom took place, long considered legendary, but which was verified in 1853. An Arab baby was taken by Spanish soldiers and brought to Oran to be sold as a slave. The good Vicar-general, Juan Caro, bought him and named him Geronimo. When he was eight years of age, some Arab slaves escaped from Oran, and, thinking to do the boy a kindness, took him with them. For years he lived with his people as a Mahometan, but the holy faith which through Juan Caro had been planted in the boy’s heart had taken firm root and could not be destroyed. For twenty-five years he remained with them and then ran away and returned to the Vicar-general. “Because I wished to live henceforth in the faith of the Divine Saviour,” he said, “I returned to you.” Juan Caro was delighted. He received the young Arab as a lost child.

Soon after he entered the Spanish Guard as a soldier and after performing many brave acts received a high military position. He married and for ten years nothing but happiness shone into his life. He won the respect and confidence of all. He was Juan Caro’s right hand man, and his wife was a daughter to his adopted father. One bright May day in 1569 news came to Oran that a small Arab encampment was a short distance away. The rumor did not seem important. A handful of Spaniards could easily manage the Arabs, at least so thought Geronimo. Taking nine soldiers he manned a little boat and rowed out of the safe harbor and along the blue sea past the coral fishery of Mers-el-Kebir. Suddenly two Moorish brigantines which had been lying in wait chased and ran them down. The nine soldiers escaped but Geronimo, who was a marked man, was seized and carried to Euldij Ali, the Calabrian renegade. A great cry spread among the Arabs through Algeria that the apostate was captured. The Moors who knew his history made a solemn vow that they would restore him to his old religion. For this they sent Marabouts to convert him with arguments and fair promises, but they returned discomfited to Euldij Ali. Another method was now tried. Geronimo was loaded with chains, treated with the utmost cruelty and when faint from torture and scarcely able to speak, the Marabouts stood around him offering him liberty, power, honor and riches. No offer, however, made him deny his faith, no longing for freedom made him forswear for one single moment his religion. Once, after some most horrible threats, he raised his poor suffering head, and with a voice so weak it could scarcely be heard, he said, “They think they will make me a Mahometan, but that they shall never do, even if they kill me.”

For four months Euldij Ali gloated over the daily tortures he was inflicting on Geronimo. At last the sameness of cruelty palled upon him, and he was determined to invent a new and more hideous revenge for the stubbornness of his captive. One morning the desired idea came to him. Examining the works of a fort by the gate of Bab-el-Oned, he saw a block of beton standing by the great stones. This block was a mould in the shape of the immense stones, filled with a kind of concrete. When the concrete was sufficiently hardened, the wall was to be built with it.

Here was the height of torture. Here was the most exquisitely painful death man might devise! The dog of a slave should be laid in a similar mould, the liquid plaster poured over him, and the renegade, built alive into the wall, should be converted into stone. Calling a mason he said: “Michel, you see this empty mould of beton? For the present leave it. I have a mind to make beton of that dog of Oran who refuses to come back to the faith of Islam.”

The poor mason finished his day’s work with a sad heart. As soon as he entered the prison where Geronimo was a captive he informed him of Euldij Ali’s intention. Geronimo calmly answered, “God’s holy will be done. Let not those miserable men think they will frighten me out of the faith of Christ by the idea of this cruel death. May my blessed Saviour only pardon my sins, and preserve my soul.”

The whole of that night the brave young Arab spent in prayer and preparation for the tortures which he knew were awaiting him. Between two and three o’clock the next morning a guard summoned him to the Pasha’s presence, where stood a great multitude of Turks and Arabs in their gorgeous robes. He was then dragged to the gate of Bab-el-Oned, being beaten all the way. Euldij Ali addressed him slowly and clearly. He pointed out every detail of the fearful death, showed him the block of beton, and then said: “Do you still refuse to return to the faith of Islam?” “I am a Christian, and as a Christian I will die,” was Geronimo’s answer. “As you will,” replied the Pasha. Pointing to the beton, he said, “Then here shall you be buried alive.” “Do your will. Death shall not make me abandon my faith.” The Pasha raised his hand. The soldiers stepped forward and removed the chain from the prisoner’s leg. His hands were bound behind his back, his legs crossed and tied together. Then, lifting the poor man, they laid him face downward in the mould. A renegade Spaniard named Tamango, desiring to show what a fervent Mahometan he was, jumped on Geronimo’s body and broke his ribs. This act so pleased Euldij Ali that others followed his example. The plaster was then poured over him, and the brave Christian was suffocated.

Three hundred years later the noble Arab’s martyrdom was brought to light and the story verified. In the museum of Algiers is the cast. It shows a slight figure, a face with veins all swollen, a poor mouth closed with a patient determined expression, hands tied, legs swollen, even the broken ribs are distinguished. He was “faithful unto death.”

REWARD OF FAITHFULNESS.

When Petrarch was crowned at Rome, it was by the supreme magistrate of the Republic. Twelve youths were arrayed in scarlet. Six representatives of the most illustrious families, in green robes, with garlands of flowers, witnessed the scene. When the laurel crown was placed on his head, the magistrate said, “This is the reward of merit.” And the people shouted, “Long live the poet.” But you, my boy, if faithful to the end shall be crowned in the presence of all the high dignitaries of heaven, by King Jesus, with a crown that fadeth not away, and a radiance that vies with the brightness of blazing suns as they run their eternal course.

My boy, with what better exhortation can this volume close than, “Be faithful”? Being the architects of your own weal or woe, be courageous like Joshua, self-reliant like Nehemiah, obedient like Abraham, persevering like Jacob, decisive like Moses, administrative like Solomon, above reproach like Daniel, long suffering like Paul, self-disciplined like David, prayerful like Elijah, masters of passions like Joseph, bold like Peter, self-surrendered like Noah, Godlike like Enoch, faith-acting like Abel, and in all things, with all persons, at all time exemplify the spirit of the Christ.

Be faithful. Faithful to your Christian profession, faithful to your church, faithful to Christ, faithful under all circumstances and in all places, faithful unto death. Above the grave of his hero Homer inscribed the words, “He was a brave man.” Above his hero Plato wrote, “He was a wise man.” Above his hero Alcibiades said, “He was a rich man,” but the motto for the Christian’s tomb is that which is sculptured beneath Lincoln’s great name and which he wished above all things history might write of him: “He was faithful.” And that of Rev. Henry Weston Smith, who was killed by the Indians while on his way from Deadwood, Dakota, to preach at Crook City, “Faithful unto death.”

When Allen K. Capron was killed at Las Guasimas, his father lifted the hat that covered his face, and said, “Well done, my boy.” May others say of you, “He was faithful,” and may Christ say to you, “Well done!”

“Here’s a hand to the boy who has courage To do what he knows to be right. When he falls in the way of temptation, He has a hard battle to fight. Who strives against self and his comrades Will find a most powerful foe; All honor to him if he conquers; A cheer for the boy who says, ‘No!’

“There’s many a battle fought daily The world knows nothing about. There’s many a brave young soldier Whose strength puts a legion to rout. And he who fights sin single-handed Is more of a hero, I say Than he who leads soldiers to battle, And conquers by arms in the fray.

“Be steadfast, my boy, when you’re tempted, And do what you think to be right; Stand firm by the colors of manhood, And you will o’ercome in the fight. ‘The right’ be your battle-cry ever In waging the warfare of life; And God, who knows who are the heroes, Will give you the strength for the strife.”

“MY PLEDGE.”

I WILL Keep to the right as the law directs, Keep from the world my friends’ defects. Keep all my thoughts on the purest themes, Keep from my eyes the motes and beams. Keep true my deeds, my honor bright, Keep firm my faith in God and right. Keep free from every sin and stain, Keep from the ways that bring me pain. Keep free my tongue from words of ill, Keep right my aim, and good my will. Keep all my acts from passion free, Keep strong my hope, no envy see. Keep watchful care o’er tongue and hand. Keep firm my feet, by justice stand. Keep true my word, a sacred thing, Keep from the snares the tempters bring. Keep faith with each I call a friend, Keep full in view the final end. Keep firm my courage, bold and strong, Keep up the right and down the wrong. Keep well the words of wisdom’s school, Keep warm by night, by day keep cool.

MY SYMPHONY.

“To live content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly, to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never;—in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.”

WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

Page Changed from Changed to

111 The practice is unfit a scholar The practice is unfit for a or a gentleman. scholar or a gentleman.

1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in underscores.