No. 1.

VOL. II.

TEMPERANCE

AND TEMPERANCE SOCIETIES.

I have frequently promised, that if Providence should favour me with a suitable opportunity, I would endeavour to lay my views on Temperance and Temperance Societies before the public, in print. A suitable opportunity appears now to be given, and events which have lately taken place, appear to render it necessary that I should endeavour to fulfil my promise without delay. Myself and a number of others have thought it our duty to withdraw from the old mixed Temperance Societies, and to form ourselves into a New Society, to consist of such as we believe to be sincere Christians, and to be conducted on Christian principles. I would, therefore, embrace this opportunity of laying my views on this subject before the world. I hope that all who may read what I have to offer, will give the subject their serious attention, and that they will use their best endeavours to come to a knowledge of the truth. It is my belief, that Christian Temperance Societies for spreading the principle of abstinence from intoxicating drinks, are calculated to do great good; that they are calculated to bring Glory to God in the Highest, and to promote the welfare of my fellow-men both in this world and in the world which is to come; and it is the desire which I feel to assist in promoting these glorious objects, that induces me to stand forward as

their advocate. I hope that all who may read what I have to offer on this subject, will be influenced by a regard to the same great objects, and then I shall have no anxiety as to the results.

The whole subject, as to the merits of the societies which I advocate, may be brought within a very narrow compass; it may be reduced to two simple questions; first, whether the objects which we propose to accomplish are good? and, secondly, whether the means which we propose to employ for the accomplishment of those objects be good? If the objects at which we aim are good, it is but right that you should in some way or other, labour for their accomplishment; and if the means also which we propose to employ for the accomplishment of those objects are good, it is but right that we should all unite together in these societies, and work as one man. These are the two questions, then, to which we would call your attention. We wish to show, in the first place, that the objects at which we aim in forming ourselves into Temperance Societies are truly good-that they are objects which all men ought to desire to see accomplished; and we wish to show, in the second place, that the means also, which we propose to employ, are right means,that they are, in fact, such as may be consistently employed by the followers of Jesus Christ.

We would endeavour to show, in

the first place, that the objects which we have in view, in forming our selves into Temperance Societies, are good. The first object which we are wishful to accomplish, is the reformation of drunkards; our second object is, the preservation of those who are sober from becoming drunkards; and our last and principal object is, to bring all men to embrace the religion of Christ, and to be happy in the enjoyment of its blessings, both in this life and in the life which is

to come.

The first object which we have in view, is the reformation of drunkards. We wish to bring all the drunkards in our country, and all the drunkards in the world, to be sober characters. That the reformation of drunkards is a desirable thing, will be acknowledged by all who have any regard to the interests of their fellow-men. Even drunkards themselves will acknowledge this; they will acknowledge that it would be better, both for themselves and for their families, if they were truly reformed. Drunkards are not altogether without thought, nor are they altogether without feeling either. They sometimes compare the days that are past, with the days that are passing now; they think of what they were once, and of what they are now; and they cannot but acknowledge, to themselves, if to no one else, that it was far better with them when they walked in the ways of Temperance, than it has ever been since, and that it would be better for them now, if they were restored to the paths of Temperance again. Some of them recollect the time when they had a comfortable home, a pleasing wife, and happy interesting children. They recollect the time when their backs were well clothed, when their tables were well spread, when their cupboards were well stored. Some of them recollect the time when they enjoyed the blessings of religion. They once had peace of mind, and an assurance of God's approbation, and a delightful and well-grounded hope of everlasting life. Their souls were full of love to God, and of love to all mankind, and it was their meat and their drink to labour in God's cause, and to do good to their fellow-men. Their home was a little

temple, and their family a little church, and they themselves were as the prophet and the high priest in their domestic circle. They read to their wives and their offspring the oracles of God, and while their beloved ones kneeled around them, they offered up their daily prayers and thanksgivings to the fountain of their lives and of their blessings. And every week, as the day of rest came round, they walked in each other's company to the house of prayer, and listened to the words of life, and prayed, and, in the hopes of one day reaching the better land, and sharing with their families and Christian friends the bliss of heaven, they frequently rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. These were delightful days indeed: they were the days of heaven on earth. But they are gone, alas, and in their place have come days of darkness, and guilt, and misery. The man that was once rejoicing on the threshold of Heaven, is now sighing and groaning at the gate of hell. His home is cheerless and desolate; his wife is sad and sorrowful; and his little ones are some of them dying, and escaping their wretchedness, and others of them are growing up wild and neglected, in ignorance, and want, and profligacy. His clothing is filthy, his health is declining, his cupboard is empty, he is surrounded with difficulties and troubles, and he sees no prospect of relief. His soul is a complete wreck. That breast which was once the abode of peace, and hope, and joy, is now the abode of guilt, and fear, and torment. His delightful intercourse with God and with the eternal world is cut off; he cannot think of God without dread, and the eternal world presents nothing to his view but darkness and storms of wrath. Instead of joining with happy souls in singing the songs of Zion, he is raving with his drunken companions, or, dejected and distracted, after his drunken revel, he is cursing the day that he was born. The children that he formerly was training for heaven, he is now conducting to the regions beneath, and his dwelling, which was once like a little heaven, is now become a little hell. His friends, when they see him, look sadly on, and mourn over his awful fall: and an

gels, that once attended on his path and ministered to his welfare with joy, now start aside, and reluctantly give up their charge. Such is the tremendous change which drink has made in his character and lot, and such is the fearful contrast forced on the drunkard's soul, when in his thoughtful moments he reflects on the days that are past. And he weeps at times, and would give away a world if he had it, to bring back the blessedness of former days.

All drunkards are not alike; there are infinite degrees in drunkenness, and there are infinite varieties of circumstances in which drunkards are placed. It is not every drunkard that is reduced to rags and beggary; nor is it every one that has banished from his dwelling all domestic comfort. There are some drunkards who have still a plentiful table, and well-clothed backs, and who still maintain something like order in their families. But all drunkards are miserable, and most drunkards are sensible of their misery, and sensible, too, that it would be a happy thing if they were reclaimed from their drunken propensities, and restored to their former state of sobriety.

I was one day passing along the streets of Chester, near the Cross, and there was a drunken man passing at the same time. There was a number of loose men standing at the Cross, talking with each other. The drunken man that was passing, was something of a wit, and I was known to be a temperance advocate; and when the persons that were standing at the Cross saw him passing by, they were anxious to get him to play his wit upon me, and so to divert themselves at my expense, and at the expense of the cause of temperance. As I drew near the Cross, they called to the poor reeling drunkard, and said, "See thee, Jack; see thee, Jack;" pointing at the same time to me, wishing to set him on. But Jack had more sense than they thought he had. He looked first at them, and then at me, and when he saw what they were after, he said, “Nay, nay; I'm not so bad as that neither: he's better than me." Though the poor creature had not virtue enough to be temperate

himself, he knew that those who were temperate were better and happier than himself. And Jack was not alone in his judgment; there are thousands of drunkards of the same mind.

And I am sure that if drunkards themselves are prepared to acknowledge that it would be well if they were reformed, there will not be found many sober people but what will be ready enough to acknowledge that the reformation of drunkards would be a good thing. The child will acknowledge that it would be a good thing if his drunken father were reformed; and the wife will acknowledge that it would be a good thing if her drunken husband were reformed. Many wives and children know that if their husbands and fathers were sober, like some hus. bands and fathers, they might be better fed, and better clad, and escape many unpleasant things which befal them now. Thousands of children that are now obliged to spend the day in weary and destructive labours, might be spending their days at school, receiving useful instruction, and gathering full strength of soul and limb, if their parents were sober. And thousands of wives, who are at present used like slaves, and who languish under the sorrows of a broken heart, might live in another paradise, if their husbands were sober and religious. And I am sure the mother that has a drunken son, would think his reformation a happy thing. The heaviest affliction that yonder aged woman ever had to bear, was a drunken son. She has had eleven children, and has reared them all; she has had oppressive toil, and weary journies; she has known what it was to suffer want, and to endure unkindness: she has many times toiled hard by day, and watched through the long anxious night, tending her suffering little ones. She has buried her firstborn, her best, her favourite child, just when he had reached the years of manhood, and was promising fair to be a comfort and a honour to her she has wept over the death of an aged parent, and suffered many griefs which none but her own heart ever fully understood. But none of her sorrows, none of her trials, neither want, nor weary toil, nor sleep

the first place, that the objects which we have in view, in forming our selves into Temperance Societies, are good. The first object which we are wishful to accomplish, is the reformation of drunkards; our second object is, the preservation of those who are sober from becoming drunkards; and our last and principal object is, to bring all men to embrace the religion of Christ, and to be happy in the enjoyment of its blessings, both in this life and in the life which is

to come.

The first object which we have in view, is the reformation of drunkards. We wish to bring all the drunkards in our country, and all the drunkards in the world, to be sober characters. That the reformation of drunkards is a desirable thing, will be acknowledged by all who have any regard to the interests of their fellow-men. Even drunkards themselves will acknowledge this; they will acknowledge that it would be better, both for themselves and for their families, if they were truly reformed. Drunkards are not altogether without thought, nor are they altogether without feeling either. They sometimes compare the days that are past, with the days that are passing now; they think of what they were once, and of what they are now; and they cannot but acknowledge, to themselves, if to no one else, that it was far better with them when they walked in the ways of Temperance, than it has ever been since, and that it would be better for them now, if they were restored to the paths of Temperance again. Some of them recollect the time when they had a comfortable home, a pleasing wife, and happy interesting children. They recollect the time when their backs were well clothed, when their tables were well spread, when their cupboards were well stored. Some of them recollect the time when they enjoyed the blessings of religion. They once had peace of mind, and an assurance of God's approbation, and a delightful and well-grounded hope of everlasting life. Their souls were full of love to God, and of love to all mankind, and it was their meat and their drink to labour in God's cause, and to do good to their fellow-men. Their home was a little

temple, and their family a little church, and they themselves were as the prophet and the high priest in their domestic circle. They read to their wives and their offspring the oracles of God, and while their beloved ones kneeled around them, they offered up their daily prayers and thanksgivings to the fountain of their lives and of their blessings. And every week, as the day of rest came round, they walked in each other's company to the house of prayer, and listened to the words of life, and prayed, and, in the hopes of one day reaching the better land, and sharing with their families and Christian friends the bliss of heaven, they frequently rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory. These were delightful days indeed: they were the days of heaven on earth. But they are gone, alas, and in their place have come days of darkness, and guilt, and misery. The man that was once rejoicing on the threshold of Heaven, is now sighing and groaning at the gate of hell. His home is cheerless and desolate; his wife is sad and sorrowful; and his little ones are some of them dying, and escaping their wretchedness, and others of them are growing up wild and neglected, in ignorance, and want, and profligacy. His clothing is filthy, his health is declining, his cupboard is empty, he is surrounded with difficulties and troubles, and he sees no prospect of relief. His soul is a complete wreck. That breast which was once the abode of peace, and hope, and joy, is now the abode of guilt, and fear, and torment. His delightful intercourse with God and with the eternal world is cut off; he cannot think of God without dread, and the eternal world presents nothing to his view but darkness and storms of wrath. Instead of joining with happy souls in singing the songs of Zion, he is raving with his drunken companions, or, dejected and distracted, after his drunken revel, he is cursing the day that he was born. The children that he formerly was training for heaven, he is now conducting to the regions beneath, and his dwelling, which was once like a little heaven, is now bccome a little hell. His friends, when they see him, look sadly on, and mourn over his awful fall and an