By the heart, I mean the moral faculties, in distinction from the intellectual. Any action is moral, which can be praised or blamed. The moral faculties are those which determine moral action. These faculties are, the Conscience, Will, and Affections. In this division, I do not attempt metaphysical exactness, but only what I can make my readers understand. When I speak of educating these faculties, I do not mean to separate the process from that of religious education in general; for nothing can be well done, in the formation of character, without religious principle and motives at the foundation. But my object is, to speak of the specific means by which these faculties may be cultivated.

It may be necessary for me to explain what I mean by the Conscience, Will, and Affections. Yet it does not fall in with my design, neither would it suit the age and capacities of those for whom I write, to enter into a philosophical description,[122] or analysis, of the faculties of the mind, or affections of the heart. I shall only give such simple explanations as are sufficient for my purpose, and as I suppose will be understood by my readers.

I. The Conscience.—This is the faculty which determines whether any action proposed to the mind, or any feeling of the heart, is right or wrong. If you will watch the motions of your own mind, you will perceive, whenever any thing is proposed to be done or not to be done, something within tells you that it is either right or wrong; if wrong, you find the same something within, urging you not to do it; or, if right, the same impulse moves you to do it. If you do as you are thus urged, you find the same voice within approving what you have done, or, if you do not obey, condemning you. This something within is CONSCIENCE.

You have, doubtless, lived long enough to experience many a conflict, or dispute, between your conscience and your inclinations. You are inclined to do something which your conscience tells you is wrong; but conscience not only tells you it is wrong, but urges you not to do it. Your inclinations, or desires, urge you in the contrary direction; and this creates a conflict. If conscience prevails, then it approves your decision, and you feel happy. But, if inclination[123] prevails, conscience upbraids, and you feel miserable.

As I have defined education, you will see the great importance of educating the conscience. It is the leading moral faculty, and must have a great influence upon the moral character. For the conscience itself may be wrong. It is not itself the rule by which you are to determine what is right and wrong. The Word of God is the rule. The office of conscience is, to determine whether any thing you propose to do is agreeable to the rule, and to urge you, accordingly, to do it or not to do it. Suppose you wish to determine whether any thing is straight; you lay a rule upon it that you suppose to be straight, and if they agree, that settles the matter. Your eye, comparing the object with the rule, determines whether it is straight or not. But, if the rule applied is crooked, your eye is deceived, and you misjudge. Conscience is the eye of the soul, that compares an action with the rule. The conscience, then, must be well instructed. You must learn the rule of right from the Word of God, and then conscience will always decide right. But, if you adopt false notions of right and wrong, your very conscience will lead you astray. The first thing, then, in the education of the heart is, to have it filled with right principles;[124] and these you are to obtain from the study of the Bible, and from listening to the instructions of your parents, teachers, and ministers.

The next thing is, always to obey the voice of conscience. If you go contrary to it, and do what conscience tells you is wrong, or neglect what it urges upon you as duty, you weaken that faculty, and harden the heart. When you refuse to hearken to the voice of conscience, the next time it will not speak so loud; and every time this is repeated, the weaker it grows, till at length it is scarcely heard at all, and you may go on and sin almost without restraint. If you will look back a little while in your own experience, you will see the force of what I say. If you have ever fallen into the habit of secretly disobeying your parents, you will find an illustration of it. The first time you were tempted to disobey, your conscience was very loud against it; but the temptation, falling in with your inclinations, prevailed. Then conscience upbraided you with a voice of terror. But you were not discovered, and no immediate evil followed. The next time the temptation presented itself, the remonstrance of conscience was feeble, and its condemnation light. The next time it was feebler still; till at length you could do with[125] careless indifference what at first made you shudder. But when the power of conscience is gone, there is but one step more to ruin. If, then, you would keep your conscience tender, you must always obey its voice.

Another means of educating the conscience is, the habit of thinking with approbation of what is right, and putting out of the mind with horror all thoughts of what is wrong. The most hateful things, by becoming familiar to the sight, lose much of the horror which they excite at first. A person who had never seen an animal killed would be deeply affected at the sight; but a butcher thinks nothing of it. So, by thinking much of what is wrong, the conscience becomes defiled, and ceases to act with promptness and decision; while, if kept familiar only with the good, it would revolt instantly from the bad.

II. The Will.—This is the faculty that chooses or refuses. It is the decisive faculty. It is the power that determines action, whether good or bad. It is the ruling faculty of the soul. I said conscience was the leading faculty, because it goes before the action of the will, and moves it to choose what is right. The will is the ruling faculty, because it determines all action. The way to educate the will is, to[126] accustom it to submit to the dictates of conscience. The will, in our fallen and depraved state, is turbulent and unsubmissive. It is not disposed to submit to the law of God, nor to those whom God has set over us. Yet there is nothing of more importance to our happiness and usefulness than the early subjection of the will. If you determine that you will always have your own will, you will certainly be unhappy; for it is impossible that you should always have your own way. But if you early accustom yourself to give up your own will; to submit to the will of God, as made known to you in his word and Providence,—to submit to your parents, as those whom God has set over you, and to your own conscience, as the faithful monitor which God has placed in your own bosom,—then you will be as happy as you can be in this imperfect state. This you will not accomplish all at once. It must be the result of experience, trial, and discipline, with the grace of God in your heart. But if you begin to cultivate the habit of submission, in early life, it will save you many a severe struggle and much unhappiness. You have doubtless learned, before this time, that you always get into difficulty at home, when you set out to have your own will. And perhaps you have sometimes, in your impatience at contradiction,[127] secretly wished that you were of age, beyond the control of your parents, that you might do as you pleased. But I assure you, both from my own experience and from what I have seen of the world, that you will not find it any easier to have your own will, after you come to act for yourself. You will not succeed in any thing you undertake to do for others, unless you give up your own will; neither will you succeed in making society agreeable to yourself. Suppose you go to a shoemaker, to get a pair of shoes made, and as soon as you begin to tell him how you wish them done, he answers, “I understand my business; if you want a pair of shoes, I’ll make them for you, but nobody can teach me how to do my work?” You would say, “He is a surly creature; I’ll have nothing to do with him.” Or, suppose you go into company, and you find a young lady who will consent to nothing except what she herself proposes; you say, “She is a selfish creature; let her enjoy herself alone.” But all this comes from mere wilfulness. You never will be comfortable, much less happy, till you are willing to yield to others, when no principle is concerned, but only the mere gratification of your own will. And when one is employed by another, it is perfectly reasonable that he should be directed by[128] his employer, even if what he is directed to do may appear to him unwise. The only way that you can succeed, and be happy, in any thing you may undertake to do for others, is, to submit your will to theirs, and do cheerfully, and without objection, what they require—provided, only, that they do not require you to do wrong. If you will look back, you will find that this wilfulness has been the cause of all the trouble you have got into with your parents, and of nearly all the altercations you have had with your brothers, sisters, and companions. And, if you retain this disposition, it will make you miserable, whatever station in society you may occupy.

A little boy, named Truman, lost his own mother; and when he was four or five years of age, his father married again. His new mother was an excellent lady, very affectionate and kind-hearted toward the children. But one day, when she was teaching Truman how to read, she could not make him say his lesson correctly. She therefore used the rod till he submitted, and read as he ought. He was afterwards overheard talking with himself, about his conduct:—“Tru, what made you treat your dear mother so? Hasn’t she always been kind to you?” “Yes, I know she has. She loves me, and tries to do me all the good she can.” “Then[129] how could you be so naughty, to treat her so?” “I know I have been a very naughty boy, and treated her very bad indeed when she has been very kind to me; and she was trying then to teach me for my own good.” “What can you say for yourself, then? How did you come to behave so?” “I can’t say any thing for myself; I know it was very mean. I feel ashamed to think I could treat her so; and I’ll never do it again as long as I live. But I thought I would just try for once, and see who was master.”

The object of this little boy was to have his own will. He was not willing to submit to his mother, till he had tried his strength, to see whose will should prevail. He got a severe chastisement, and had to submit after all. And so it will always be with you, if you set out with the determination, if possible, always to have your own will. You will be always getting into difficulty, and gain nothing by it in the end.

III. The Affections.—I shall not undertake, in this place, to give a full and complete definition of the affections. It will answer my present purpose, to say that the affections are the feelings or emotions of the heart. This may not be philosophically accurate; but when my readers come, at a more advanced age, to study mental and moral philosophy, they can enlarge[130] their views. For all practical purposes, this will answer. And what I mean by educating the affections is, to acquire the habit of controlling the feelings, so as to suppress the bad and cultivate the good. You hear people talk of good and bad dispositions. But a good disposition is only the preponderance of good feelings; or in other words, where good feelings and good tempers prevail, we say that person has a good disposition; but if bad feelings and evil tempers predominate, we say he has a bad disposition. There is no doubt a difference in natural dispositions. But with suitable efforts, and especially with the aid of God’s grace, much may be done to cultivate and improve them.

With these preliminary remarks, I proceed to give some rules for the cultivation of the affections.

1. Check the first risings of ill-temper.—The smith, who makes an edged tool,—an axe, a knife, or any such instrument,—first works the iron and steel into the form which he wishes, and then tempers it. While he is working it, he wants to keep it soft, so that he can work it easy; and this he does by keeping it hot. But after he gets it finished, he heats it in the fire, and dips it in water, so as to cool it suddenly, and that makes it hard. But, if he left it so, it[131] would be so hard that it would break all to pieces as soon as it was used. So he holds it again over the fire, and heats it a little, to take out a part of the temper, and make it just of the hardness that he wishes. An instrument that is very hard is called high-tempered; one that is very soft is low-tempered. This is a good illustration of temper as it appears in us. A high temper is one that is easily excited, and that runs so high as to be in danger of doing great mischief. A low temper is a disposition easy and indifferent, like a knife tempered so little that the edge will turn the first time it is used. Now you want temper enough not to be indifferent, but not so much as to fly all in pieces. And I know nothing on which your usefulness and happiness more depend, than in the proper regulation of your temper; and not your own happiness alone, but the happiness of all around you. One of the first and greatest moral lessons is, to learn to control your temper. “He that is slow to anger,” says Solomon, “is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.” But, “He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down and without walls.” By indulging an ungoverned temper, you expose yourself to many evils. You show the weak points of[132] your character, and lose the good opinion of others, and your own self-respect. You cannot help thinking meanly of yourself after having broken out in a sudden gust of anger, or given indulgence to a peevish, fretful spirit. To be ill-humored, peevish, or cross, is to be unhappy, and to make others unhappy. But a sweet temper will not only make you happy, but, like the balmy breezes of a summer evening, it will shed a sweet fragrance all around you. Nothing will render your character more unlovely than ill-temper. Nor, if habitually indulged at home, can it be concealed even from the most careless observer. You will carry the mark of it wherever you go. There will be the ill-natured scowl, the knit brow, the distorted features, which no sweet-scented soap can wash out, and no cosmetic hide. It will spoil the most elegant features, and mar the most beautiful countenance. But a sweet temper will hide a thousand defects, and render the most ordinary features beautiful and lovely. I do not know any thing that adds a greater charm to the youthful countenance. But, if you would have a sweet temper, you must suppress every ill-natured feeling; never suffer yourself to be angry at trifles, nor get into a storm of passion on any account: neither indulge a peevish, fretful dispo............