Name: An Appeal to the Youth
Author: Ellen G. White

Earlier text: VOLNEY, IOWA, DEC. 24, 1857.

GRASS RIVER, N. Y. AUG., 1861.

MY DEAR CHILDREN: We, your father and mother, feel a deep interest for you. You may sometimes think that your parents are too strict, that they watch you too closely; but, dear boys, our love for you is great. We have dedicated you to God. You are his, and we must keep you separate from the world, that you may be the Lord’s. We want your

lives to be right and pleasing in his sight. Don’t feel discouraged, my children. Satan is ready to lead your young minds; but go to God, seek him for strength, pray much, give your hearts’ best affections to him.

Henry, you are my first-born, the eldest of my boys. A responsibility rests upon you. You will have to render an account for the influence you exert over your brothers. Love your brothers. Their salvation depends much on the course you pursue. Have your regular seasons of prayer for each other, and with each other. Don’t let your love for writing, and your study, divert your mind, and cause you to neglect those duties which ought to be done.

We want you saved. We want you to be just right, and to live for God, and be an honor to his cause. Watch, Edson, against your besetments. Be sober, be watchful, and God will enable you to overcome. My dear little Willie, may the Lord bless you. We shall pray for you. Pray for yourselves. Your affectionate Mother.

LODI, WIS., MARCH 5, 1862.

MY DEAR CHILDREN: We have been having the most tedious snow-storm I have witnessed since we came from Maine. It commenced to snow last Sabbath, and has snowed and blowed until to-day, Tuesday. We can say with grateful hearts, the Lord is with us. We have had an unusual degree of freedom in the Lord. We hope you are well at home. We do not forget to pray for you. We believe the Lord will have a care for you, our dear children. We have entrusted you to his care. We are very anxious for your salvation, and pray earnestly that you may be lambs of Christ’s fold, and have the constant watch-care of the good Shepherd. I feel grateful that I can leave you and feel so free in regard to home.

I am anxious you should encourage habits of order. Have a place for everything, and everything in its place. Take time to arrange your room, and keep it in order. We do not wish you to apply yourselves too closely to your studies, neither do we wish you to work hard. But a life of idleness is a life of sin. Satan finds employment for idle hands and minds. We want you to grow up healthy and useful.

Above all things, seek God while in health, that he may be your support and strength if you should be sick or dying. Your parents have the deepest interest for you. But we cannot repent of your sins for you. We cannot take you to heaven. God alone in his love and infinite mercy can save you, and Jesus, the dear Saviour, invites you to his loving arms. He offers you salvation freely, if you will believe in him, love him, and render cheerful obedience. Do so, dear children. “They that seek Me early, shall find Me.” May the Lord lead you, dear children, to his own fold. Your affectionate Mother.

AVON, WIS., JULY 25, 1862.

MY DEAR CHILDREN, HENRY, EDSON, AND WILLIE: We arrived safely at this place last evening. We reached Chicago Wednesday evening between the hours of eight and nine, and stopped at the Eagle Hotel. I was very weary. Thursday morning I laid down in my room to rest while your father went out in the city. He returned just in time to take the cars, and brought a basket of fruit—of tomatoes, peaches, and apples. They were very nice.

We ate the fruit with our bread taken from home.

We have tried, dear children, to commit your case to God. We trust you in his hands. Remember what we have said to you. You know our wishes well. We have confidence that you will have a principle to do right, because you love the right, and despise every wrong act. Take good care, Henry and Edson, of your little brother Willie. If he should learn any wrong and bad habits, it would distress me very much. Try to make each other happy. Don’t seek to have your own way, but yield one to another. Be affectionate, kind, and true to each other. God will help you if you call upon him for help. Satan is busy, but with the strength you obtain from God you can resist him. Don’t let your minds dwell upon low things. Think of heaven, of the compassionate, loving Saviour, who died for you. Oh, what love, what marvelous love is this!

Return this love by yielding to him the best and holiest affections of your hearts. All that you can do is to give yourselves to him, and obey him. God help you to be faithful, is the prayer of your parents, who sincerely love you. Your affectionate Mother.

NEWPORT, N. H., OCT. 23, 1863.

MY DEAR CHILDREN, HENRY, EDSON, AND WILLIE: We feel somewhat anxious in regard to you. We know that you are with one of the best of families, and we wish you to act in a manner to be esteemed by them. Cultivate habits of refinement. Be elevated in your conversation and all your acts. Be constantly fitting for the society of the good and holy here, and the pure and heavenly in the kingdom of God. Be ever striving to fill some position where you can be of use and do good. Don’t chat and talk merely for the sake of saying something. Never talk unless you have something to say—something which will add to the general information of those with whom you converse. Children, let your aim be to be right, just right. Let not others who love not God be your patterns, but imitate the life of Christ.

Cause the family with whom you live as little trouble as you can. Be very guarded on the Sabbath. Henry, you must try to interest your brothers in scriptural and moral reading. I think it your duty to study the Bible more on the Sabbath. Says the Saviour, “Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life.” You will have

a conflict to be right. I don’t command you to read the Bible—I never shall. I want you to read the Bible because you love it, not because you are driven to it, for then it will be an unpleasant task. But if you neglect the reading of the Bible, you will lose your love for it. Those who love the word of God are those who read it most. By reading and searching out scripture references, you will see the chain of truth, and will see new beauties in the word of God. While you make the Scriptures more your study, and become more familiar with them, you will be better fortified against the temptations of Satan. When inclined to speak, or act, wrong, some scripture will come to arrest you, and turn you right. It is not natural for the heart to love the Bible; but when it is renewed by grace, then the mind will feast upon the rich truths and promises contained in the word of God.

Watch and pray, children, lest you be overcome by the enemy. Make persevering efforts for everlasting life. Live Christian lives, and ever keep the glory of God in view. Much love to you, my dear children. Your affectionate Mother.

Words of Sympathy.

LAKE STATION, IND., DEC. 19, 1863.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: My heart was made sad on reading the announcement of the death of your dear son, Henry N., just as I was leaving Otsego for this place. I hasten to state that I deeply sympathize with you and yours on this trying, heart-felt occasion, and pray God for Jesus’ sake to grant his grace, to comfort and sustain you in this trying hour. While you are called to mourn the loss of your beloved and dear child, let this thought comfort and help sustain you, that your dear boy had chosen “rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season.”

You have been called to take the parting look, and slowly and mournfully follow and see him deposited in the lonely and silent tomb, and then, the void place in your family circle on your return! God pity and sustain you under this sad bereavement, is the prayer of your brother in Christ. JOSEPH BATES.

WEST ENOSBURG, VT., DEC. 24, 1863.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: I have seen the painful announcement of the death of your dear Henry, and deeply sympathize with you in your affliction. I should like to see you a few moments and mingle my tears with yours, and speak a few words of sympathy. But you have many dear friends who stand by you in your affliction, and who are anxious to help you bear your burdens. And you have the Friend above all others. Oh, how He loves! He sympathized with the afflicted while on earth, and he changeth not. He has been your support, and has sweetened bitter cups in the past, and he loves you today. Blessed be his holy name!

God numbers the hairs of your head, and this affliction has come upon you by the permission of your Heavenly Father. He has suffered death to snatch your very dear son from your embrace for some wise purpose. Though you may not now fully understand his design, yet you are safe in saying that he does all things well.

Your dear Henry sleeps in Jesus. Consoling thought! He is sealed, and you know that he will live again and put on immortality. He is freed from those temptations and trials

which he would have encountered, and under which he might have fallen if he had lived.

May the rich blessing of the Lord heal the wound that you have received, and may the God of all comfort, comfort you in all your tribulations, that you may be strengthened and encouraged, and comfort others with the comfort wherewith you are comforted of God. Your brother, D. T. Bourdeau.

DORCHESTER, MASS., DEC. 16, 1863.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: What shall I say to you? What can I say? I can hardly yet realize he is gone—our Henry. Would I could see him yet once again, even though motionless in death, before the cold turf covers him forever from view. Forever? Oh, no. May I so live that I can see him again—meet the other side the dark river, “There’ll be no parting there.”

Would I could see you all, and that we might mingle our tears together; but this may not be. Others, though perhaps none more sincere, will share in your grief.

I have always felt an interest in Henry, he being my namesake; and I have known him

before many others have known him, away back, in Gorham, when he was but a helpless babe in his mother’s arms.

I shall be glad at any time to learn more particulars of his death, and also services at the funeral. Your brother, HENRY O. NICHOLS.

Kirkville, N. Y., Dec. 21, 1863.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: Our hearts are filled with grief and sadness. We mourn with you in your great bereavement. When the paper brought us the distressing intelligence of the death of Henry, we felt like those who are stunned by a heavy blow. Almost all the time you have been in our minds, and we have continued to beseech God that you might be sustained by his grace.

The blow that has fallen surely did not come by chance. God’s wise purpose is in it, and he will bring good out of it to you, and glory to himself. He has chosen you in the furnace of affliction, and he will bring you out as gold fully refined. May God bless and sustain you. May he bind up your broken hearts. And may that long-expected, glorious morning

soon break upon us, when you shall meet again the loved and the lost, and never taste of sorrow more. J. N. ANDREWS. A. S. ANDREWS.

BRONTE, C. W., DEC. 19, 1863.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: The sad tidings of your bereavement have just reached me, and my own heart is saddened by it. Henry was endeared to me by the strong tie which binds teachers to their pupils. I respected him for his straightforward, persevering, energetic traits of character, and looked for the time to come when he would be a useful and successful laborer in the vineyard of the Lord. I know that by his affectionate obedience, and ready helpfulness, he must have been a great comfort to you. Perhaps the Lord saw that his children were in danger of placing too much dependence on earthly supports, which he knows may fail us in our time of greatest need. If so, is not the removal of them a token of his Fatherly love and care? See him hold out his own all-powerful arm, saying, “Helpless child, lean thou on me. This support shall never fail. Rest thou and be safe.” Oh, may he pour into the hearts of

you and yours, comforting and strengthening grace, and prepare you for an abundant entrance into his everlasting kingdom.

I do not write thinking you will lack for sympathizing words, for well I know that when one member suffers, all the members suffer with it. With those members I would pour out my prayers and tears and pitying words, upon the altar of Christian sympathy. My heart aches for Eddie, and Willie too. I know they must feel very, very lonely. May the Lord abundantly bless them, and help them, by their tender and affectionate regard for your wishes and feelings, to in part make up the loss of Henry’s love.

Yours in hope. MARY M. OSGOOD.

OLCOTT, N. Y., JAN. 31, 1864.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: We deeply sympathize with you in your deep affliction. The surprise we experienced when the Review gave us the intelligence of the death of Henry, perhaps could not have been increased, except it were yourself or sister White. We all loved him here when we first saw him, and when he left us we loved him more.

Do you remember at father Lindsay’s, at the close of the last evening that you and your family were with us, he took the Hymn-book, and gave one to each. You said, “Well, Henry, what is it now?” He referred to page 240, and we sang, “When shall we meet again? We did not know then, but now we are sure we shall, if among the worthy, meet him at the resurrection of the just. E. B. GASKILL, MARY A. GASKILL.

FIELDON, ILLS., JAN. 10, 1864.

DEAR SISTER ELLEN: We received your very kind and welcome letter last evening. The sad news it contained was not unexpected to us, as we had seen a notice in the Review of dear Henry’s sickness and death. Truly, as you say, you have been deeply afflicted in the loss of your dear son, who helped largely to make the light and sunshine of your household. We deeply feel to sympathize with you in this sad bereavement. May the Lord comfort and strengthen you in this bereavement, and sanctify it to your present and everlasting good. I can hardly realize that he who a few weeks since wrote us such

a beautiful letter, is now sleeping silently in his last quiet sleep. Asleep in Jesus, shut away from the cares and temptations of this poor life, soon, very soon, to come forth at the voice of God, clothed with immortal beauty, to die no more; but to enjoy life, everlasting life, in the kingdom of God. Oh! the hope of the glorious resurrection, how it buoys up the spirits which would otherwise sink. When our hearts are well nigh bursting at the thought of near and dear ones hid from our sight, we find consolation in that Bible doctrine, Jesus died and rose again triumphant, and that he has the keys of death and the grave, and will soon unlock the prison-house of the just.

When I heard of the death of dear Henry, my mind was carried back to the time when I carried him in my arms through the streets of Boston, a little laughing, black-eyed babe. When grown almost to manhood, he is torn from you and laid away. How short our time is!

“The grave is near the cradle seen, How swift the moments pass between.” SARAH B. BELDEN.

ADDISON, MICH., DEC. 19, 1863.

Dear Brother and Sister White: Permit me to offer a few words of consolation to your stricken hearts. The language of our Saviour comes with such force to my mind that I feel at liberty to make an application. “What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.” Happy thought! When I heard of your affliction tears flowed freely, and scarcely now will they cease.

Very dear sister, how much have I thought of thy aching heart the past two days. And oh, how many bereaved mothers have wept for their sons the past three years. Very few of them have thy consolation, my dear sister. How much I have desired to see your face again, if it could be so.

To-day is a day of mourning in the church, and may it be blessed to us, is my prayer. I had hoped your little family might remain unbroken until the Life-giver came again to this earth to reward the righteous; but, dear sister, God’s ways are not our ways. He knows the end from the beginning. He has not willingly afflicted you, but has suffered it in love to you and yours.

I bless God in my heart that he does not grant our request, when he sees it will not be

best for us. And when “thy will, O God, and not mine be done,” is continually the language of our hearts, what a calm, waiting, trusting in the Lord we realize. More to be desired is it than all the gifts this world can bestow.

In conclusion let me say, May this affliction cause us to sanctify the Lord God in our hearts, that we may be sanctified by virtue of Christ’s blood, and meet our departed again by virtue of his resurrection. In much love, Cynthia C. Aldrich.

NORTH PARMA, N. Y., FEB. 7, 1864.

MY YOUTHFUL BROTHER, EDDIE: I remember you as you were, a joyous, happy group of brothers. I can hardly realize that so great a change has come over you, and yet I know it is so. To-day, while thinking upon your present lonely and sorrowing condition, I penned the following lines. I send them for your own perusal.

There’s grief comes stealing o’er me now, A cloud of sadness shades my brow, Rude hands have caused our hearts to melt, Our hearthstone marred—a blight is felt, I strive to look so calm to you In vain; for I am weeping too.

At even when we tune our song, How changed—the sweetest strain is gone. And when we bow around in prayer A voice is hushed—we miss him there. Our brother’s name—oh why enrolled Among the dead, ere he was old?

We were but three; say, why destroy? Why mourning to our house of joy? Why take the staff, the pride of all, The guide of us who were so small? A sweet voice whispers, To save, I blest, Then laid him down awhile to rest.

Then mourn thou not. I’d rather bend O’er the cold form of brother, friend, Than see him yield the precious truth Which made him beautiful in youth. Nor would my longing love recall Him back to earth, exposed to fall.

When graveyard flowers shall cease to bloom, Beyond this life, beyond the tomb, There is a hope for those who trust That life will spring up from the dust. That seed which death hid in the tomb, Ere long will rise in deathless bloom.

Too long my heart has prostrate laid, Too long by this sad stroke dismayed; Soon will our number be complete In heaven—our union, oh how sweet! I’ll make it all my anxious care, Not to be missed when they are there. E. M. PRENTISS.

SOMERSET, N. Y., MARCH 10, 1864.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: We should have acknowledged ere this the reception of the “Appeal” you so kindly sent us. We perused the book with deep interest. Whilst it was in our hearts to weep with you on account of your bereavement, we felt to rejoice with you in view of Henry’s triumphant death. Although his death was a severe and unexpected blow to you, yet you have doubtless much greater reason for rejoicing than mourning.

Brother Smith’s sermon is excellent. Sister Patten has done credit to herself in her part of the work, for she has done it well; but what in our opinion makes the book most invaluable are those faithful letters—full of affection and parental regard—from you, sister White, to your children.

In view of your faithfulness to your children, how applicable in your present bereavement is the language of the prophet to certain weeping mothers in Israel: “Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears, for thy work shall be rewarded, saith the Lord; and they shall come again from the land of the enemy. And there is hope in thine end, saith

the Lord, that thy children shall come again to their own border.”

The “Appeal” ought to do good, and must do good wherever it is read, both to parents and children. We felt like dedicating anew the book, especially those letters, to our children. Every family should have a copy of the forthcoming third edition bound; or rather, every parent should obtain such copy for each one of his children. Accept our sincere thanks for the copy you sent us. J. M. & J. B. ALDRICH.

TOPSHAM, ME., FEB. 17, 1864.

DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER WHITE: We are now at brother Howland’s, the place of the scene of deep affliction that you have lately passed through in the loss of your dear Henry. I could hardly realize that he was dead till coming here where we spent several days so pleasantly together last fall, the last time I saw him. Here we have heard from the lips of this kind family the touching account of his last days. The sight of the melodeon on which he played, and of the room in which he sang so sweetly, and of his own likeness hanging on the wall, and of the very

pieces of work on which we labored together for a few days, cause me to miss him very much, and touch a tender chord of sympathy in my heart for you who have thus been bereaved. Here I have also first had the privilege of perusing the book entitled, “An Appeal to the Youth.” It is just what should be in every family. I shall do all I can to extend its circulation. How true the motto of the book, “He being dead yet speaketh.” I could but weep while reading the book. I believe it will be made, with the blessing of God, a source of much good. J. N. LOUGHBOROUGH.

LINES

ON THE DEATH OF HENRY N. WHITE.

By Uriah Smith.

Passed away from earth forever, Free from all its cares and fears, He again will join us never While we tread this vale of tears; For the turf is now his pillow, And he sleeps among the dead; While the cypress and the willow Wave above his lowly bed. There he slumbers, calmly slumbers, With the silent, peaceful dead.

With what grief and anguish riven, Should we see the loved depart! If there was no promise given, Which could soothe the wounded heart! If the chains with which death binds them, Ne’er again should broken be: And his prison which confines them, Ne’er be burst to set them free; If forever there to leave them, Were our hopeless destiny.

But a glorious day is nearing, Earth’s long-wished-for jubilee; When creation’s King appearing, Shall proclaim his people free; When upborne on Love’s bright pinion, They shall shout from land and sea, Death! where is thy dark dominion! Grave! where is thy victory! Then we’ll meet him, gladly meet him, Where we’ll never parted be.