Bird of the wave, thou art but for a day, If my desires in this world are pent, Poor little bird, I may envy thee still, For the end of thy being thou dost fulfil LESSON III. INSTINCT-CONSCIENCE-MAN'S POWER OF CHOOSING SIN, Newman's "Soul," Part III., Section 1.-Channing's Sermons," "The Evil of Sin," vol. iv., p. 151; and "The Sunday School," vol. iv., p. 357. A WEEK or two after the day when Walter and his mother sat watching the sunset, and talking about the wonderful soul, Walter came into the house one day saying: Have you seen the gooseberry-trees by the gate, mother? they are all covered over with caterpillars, and they are eating up the young leaves so fast! I have been sitting on the ground watching them for a long time. I saw one of them begin upon a fresh leaf, and it had eaten quite a large hole in it before I came in! What do they eat besides gooseberry leaves, mother?" Mother: I do not know of anything else that they eat, except the leaves of the hawthorn. : Walter Then what did they have to live upon all winter? Mother: They were not alive then, Walter; God had not made them then. When first the leaves began to come out on the gooseberry-trees, there were no caterpillars-only little eggs that the moths had laid in the soil at the foot of the gooseberrytrees. But God made the warm spring sun shine upon the eggs, and hatch them. and hatch them. and Little tiny cater pillars came out of them, the fresh young leaves were there, just above them, all ready for them to begin eating. Walter: How clever of the moth to put its eggs there! just where the food will be ready for the little caterpillars! Mother: Nay, the moth did not know that it was a better place for its eggs than any other place. Walter: Then why did it lay them there? Mother: It could not help it-it was drawn there by sensations that God gave to it. It felt it was pleasantest to go where it did go, and to lay its eggs where it did lay them. God knew it was the best place for the eggs to be laid in, and why it was the best place; it was He that caused the moth to lay them there, by making it pleasant to it to go there. It is just the same with the hen-when she sits patiently three long weeks upon her eggs in some dark corner, while her companions are wandering in the pleasant sunshine amongst the stacks and the hedges, and in the fields. She does not know that it is the warmth of her body that hatches the eggs— she does not know why she stays there so long-she only feels that it is pleasant-that she likes to stay there that she cannot help it. And, Walter, you remember my disturbing an ant's nest, when I was planting the primroses under the window yesterday? How busily they ran about, and set to work to repair the damage I had done. Walter: Yes; how eagerly they seized upon the white eggs, and dragged them along, and down into one of their holes, where the soil had not been turned up. I saw some of them dragging along eggs almost as big as themselves! They did pull so hard! Mother: And this morning I went to see how my primroses were going on, and I saw some of the ants still busily at work. One of them had got a dead fly, and was dragging it along towards its home; and another had got something white-I thought it was an egg at first, but I found it was a grain of rice I wonder where it could have found it. It must have dragged it a long way. Now, Walter, when they worked so busily to repair their house, and took such eager care of their eggs, and when they laboured so hard to store up their food, do you think they knew or understood why they did it? Do you think they thought to themselves, "If we don't take care of the eggs, there will be no young ants"—or, 'If we don't collect food, we and our little ones shall be starved?" No; they knew no more why they busied themselves, and worked so hard, than the moth knew why it laid its eggs under the gooseberry trees; they only knew they liked to busy themselves and work. God put feelings or instincts into them which made them do it, because it was pleasant to them to do it.. And it is the same, too, with the birds when they build their nests. God makes them like to do it-they do not know why they do it. But how different with us! When uncle Henry built his new house, it was not because he could not help it—was it? No! he knew why he built it, and he chose to build it, because he thought they would be more comfortable in a larger house, and in the country; and he often worked on at it with the other men in the rain, and when he was tired, and it was not pleasant to him to work, because he chose to do it. God did not make him build it without knowing why; he could do as he chose about building it or not. And I, when I sit for hours together, sewing for you, my child, or knitting your socks, it is not because I cannot help it. I choose to do it, because I know that I shall thus provide you with comfortable clothing, and my love for you makes me desire or wish that you should have comfortable clothing. God gives to us, His children, not only the power of doing things (as He does to the ant, the moth, and the hen), but He lets us know why we do them, and He lets us choose whether we will do them or not. He gives us many feelings, making us want to do many things of different kinds, and lets. |