> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) i. 1.0 1.1 Ug ^^ ■■■ US IM [2.2 1^ L£ 12.0 u u& 1-25 1 1.4 |||.6 < 6" > ^ o 7 Hi0b)grEiphic Sdences Corporation ^ e,^ <^ 1*. ^- V 23 WIST MAIN STRHT WPtSTH.N.Y. MSW (716)«72-4S03 ^ V^'^^^^ ^j^^' ^ Q^ 4^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical IViicroreproductions / Institut Canadian de inicroreproductions historiquas Technical and Bibliographic Notos/Notas tachniquas at bibliographiquaa Tha Inttituta has attamptad to obtain tha bast original copy availabia for filming. Faaturas of this copy which may ba bibllogcaphlcaliy unlqua, which may altar any of tha Imagas in tha raproduction, or which may significantly changa tha usual mathod of filming, ara chackad balow. n □ n n Colourad covars/ Couvartura da coulaur I I Covars damagad/ Couvartura andommagAa Covars rastorad and/or laminatad/ Couvartura rastaurte at/ou palllculte Covar titia missing/ La titra da couvartura manqua Colourad maps/ Cartas gAographiquas an coulaur □ Colourad inic (i.a. othar than blua or biaclc)/ Encra da coulaur (i.a. autra qua blaua ou noira) I I Colourad platas and/or illustrations/ Planchas at/ou illustrations an coulaur Bound with othar material/ Rail* avac d'autras documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La re liure serrAe peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion la long de la marge IntArieure BlanIc leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ li se peut que certainea pages blanches aJoutAes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans la taxte, mala, lorsqua cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas AtA filmies. Additional comments:/ Commentaires supplAmentairas; L'Institut a microfilm^ ie meiileur exemplaira qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details da cat exemplaira qui sont paut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mAthoda normale de f ilmage sont indiqufo ci-dessous. □ Coloured pages/ ''I n This Item is filmed at the reduction ratio checlced below/ Ce document est filmi au taux da rMuction indlqu* ci-dessous. 'ages de couleur □ Pages damaged/ Pages endommagAas I — I Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaurtas at/ou peilicultes Pages discoloured, stained or foxe« Pages d6colortos, tachattes ou piqu6as Pages detached/ Pages d6tach6es Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of prir Qualit^ inAgala de I'lmpression includes supplementary materii Comprend du material supplAmentaire Only edition available/ Seul" Edition disponible Fy] Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ I I Pages detached/ rri Showthrough/ I I Quality of print varies/ rn includes supplementary material/ I — I Only edition available/ The c( to the The in possifa of the filmini Origin beginr the lai sion, < other I first pi sion, I or illui Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been ref limed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiallement obscurcies par un fauillet d'errata, un^ palure, etc., ont AtA filmtes A nouveau de fapon A obtenir la mailleure image possible. The la shall c TINUE whichi Maps, differs entirel beginr right I requir( metho 10X • 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X I i / i t 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X i L laira details quM du It modifier cigar una fiimaga Tha copy fiimad hara lica baan raproducad titanica to tha ganaroaity of: National Library of Canada Tha imagaa appearing hara ara tha baat quality poaaibia conaidaring tha condition and lagibility of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha filming contract apacificationa. L'axamplaira film* fut raproduit grAca A la gAnAroaiti da: BibliothAqua nationala du Canada Laa imagaa auivantaa ont 4t6 raproduitas avac la plua grand aoin, compta tanu da la condition at da la nattat6 da i'axampiaira film*, at an conformity avac laa conditiona du contrat da fiimaga. d/ )utea Original copiaa in printed paper covera ara fiimad beginning with the front cover and ending on the iaat page with a printed or illuatrated imprea- aion, or tha back cover when appropriate. All other original copiaa are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illuatrated imprea- aion, and ending on the Iaat page with a printed or illuatrated impreaaion. Laa exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimie aont filmte en commen^ant par la premier plat at en terminant soit par la darnlAra page qui comporte une empreinte d'impreasion ou d'illustration, aoit par la second plat, aalon le cas. Toua las autrea axemplairaa originaux sont filmte en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impreasion ou d'illustration et en terminant par la darnlAre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. The last recorded frame on each microfiche ahall contain the aymbol — »> (meaning "COIN- TINUED"), or the aymbol V (meaning "END"^. whichever appliea. Un dea aymboiaa suivanta apparaftra aur la darnlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols ▼ signifie "FIN". taira IMaps, piatea, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratioa. Thoae too large to be entirely included in one expoaura ara filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, aa many framea as required. The following diagrama illustrate the method: Lea cartas, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atra filmte A dea taux de reduction diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre reproduit en un aaul clichA, il eat filmA A partir da Tangle aupAriaur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en baa, an prenant le nombre d'imagas nteessaire. Lea diagrammea auivanta iiluatrant la mAthoda. I by errata mad to nant un^ pelure, fapon h I. 1 2 3 3ZX 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■i'i ■) ] »■.''■ » # MAMMON: tm, COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. BY REV. JOHN HARRIS, Adtiioe of "The Great Teacher," fcc. flRST CANADIAN EDITION. * \ 11= TORONTO : PUBLISHED BY JOHN RYERSON, At the Conference Office, 9, Wellington Buildings. MDCCCXXXIX. Wk ■m- /* ..rw - ' - L ; • K... jf'^v V, F»i3f ' l#: • - r W' w t W ■■' ^ m ! I jnSKPtt H. LAWRENCK, PRINTER, aUARDIAN OFPICU, TORONTO. TO J. T. CONQUEST, M.D., F.L.S., &c. B^in ISssav, ORIGINATED BY HIS LIBERALITY, ▲NU ACCOMPANIED BY THE PRAYER THAT IT MAY PROMOTE HIS BENEVOLENT OBJECT, IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. BT THE AUTHOR. '.■,.a^- . -,-, A^i'i.'?:ji.i*i.ii ^'\-'mM C N T E N T S'. /,;-:.■- PART I. ■: SELnSHSBSB— THE ANTAGONIST OF THE GOSPKL. Page Sect. 1 .—The Universe designed to display and enjoy tlic Love of God ^ 2.— Sin, as Selfisliness, is the Frustration of ifie Divine Plan - 3 n.— All Sin is Selfishness 5 4.— The Gospel, as a System of Benevolence, opposed to Self- o ishness ° 5.-Selfi3hness, the Sin of the World, has long since become the Sin of the Church ------ 18 6.— The Forms of Selfishness in Ihp Church 22 PART II. CoVETOrSNKSS-THE PRlNCirAL FoKM OF SkLFISHNESS-IN ITS NaTI'RB, Forms, Prkvalknce, KSPECIALLY IN Britain, DisorisKS, Tests, Evils, Doom, AND Pleas. Sect. I.— The Nature of Covetousness - - 35 2— Formsof Covelousness 38 3._p,ovalencc of Covetousiicsa 4?' a2 CONTENTS. Sect. 4 —The present Predominance of CovctousncM in Britain - - ."f6 5 — The Disguiies of Covetousness 71 6.— TcBtB of Covetousness 79 7.— The Guilt and Evils of Covetouancss 91 8.— TheDoom of Coveiousnesa 125 y.— Excuses ofCovetousness for its want of Liberality - - 137 PART III. CHRISTUN LiBERALITV explained and KNrORCKD. Sect. 1.— Christian Liberality explained jgg 2— Christian Liberality enforced - . - jqq ORIGINAL ADVERTISEMENT. Many of tlie wisest and best of men are of opinion, that there is no sin so prevalent among professors of the gospel as the love of money, and yet there is no subject on v/hich so little has been written well. The late Andrew Fuller says, " It will, in all probability, prove the eternal overthrow of more characters among professing people, than any other sin, because it is al- most the only crime which can be indulged, and a pro- fession of religion at the same time supported." One Hundred Guineas, besides the profits of its publication, will be presented to the author of the best Essay on this subject. Preference will be given to the most scriptural, poignant, and affectionate appeal to the judgment and conscience of those who professedly recognise the authority of revelation on avaricious hoarding, and on unchristian-like expenditure to gratify the lust of the eye and the pride of life, whilst they avow their obligations to redeeming mercy, and profess that themselves and all they have is not their own, but belongs and must be accounted for to Him \vho has said, " Occupy till I come ;" then " give an account of thy stewardship, for thou mayest be no logger stew- ard." The work wanted is one that will bear on self- vm PREFACE. ishness, as it leadtt us to live to ourselves, and not for God and our fellow-men. It is requested that reference may be made to the different estimates of man who blesseth, and of God who abhorreth the covetous, Psalm X. 3 ; and to the tremendous consequences of accumulating property, as this sin is associated with the vilest of crimes, which exclude from the kingdom of heaven, Ephes. v. 5. The manuscript is to be sent to Dr. Conquest, 13, Finsbury-square, on or before the 1st of November, 1835, with a sealed letter containing the address of the writer. The Hon. and Rev. W. Baptist Noel, and the Rev. Dr. Pye Smith, have kindly engaged to be the arbitrators, and the award will be adjudged on the 1st of May, 1836. i^ ADJUDICATORS' ADVERTISEMENT. In the early part of the last year, we were made ac- quainted with the proposal of a Christian friend, John Thicker Conquest, M.D., F.L.S., to confer a prize of one hundred guineas (which, with the accompany- ing expenses, amounts to the donation of ahout one hundred and fifty guineas) upon any Essay produced in competition, with the usual precautions to preserve the secrecy of the authors, upon the Sin of Covet- ousNESS ; particularly with regard to the duties of piety and beneficence which, at the present time, are so incumbent on all men, but especially on those who would not abdicate the name of Christians. The request was made that we would be the umpires in determining to whom, in such a friendly competition, that prize would be the most righteously due. To that request we assented with many feelings of difficulty and reluctance ; but the opinion of duty induced us to suppress them. The requisite care was taken, that, till we had given our decision, we should not have the slightest know- ledge, or any ground of conjecture whatsoever, con-- cerning the writers of the Essays, which were no fewer than one hundred and forty-three. ADJUDICATORS* ADVERTISEMENT. After much thought, and humbly seeking, by praye?^ and supplication, that we might be enabled to form a right judgment, we saw it to be our duty to declare the- work now given to the public, to be the one entitled to. Dr. Conquest's munificent prize. But we did not arrive at this determination, without a high feeling of gratitude and admiration at the mass of sanctified talent which had been brought before our view. Many of the Treatises, some of which are considerable volumes, are so replete with knowledge of Ihe divine word, of the heart and character of man, and are so marked with comprehensive research, deep penetration, and Christian candor, as to have made us feel considerable regret at the thought of their being withheld from the public. We are conscientiously satisfied with the decision which we thus announce ; but it is, at the same time, our earnest desire that some others of the Essays should be published. We are persuaded that the subject is not exhausted ; and if, by the respective authors, our request for the publication should be granted, we trust the great cause of religion will be eminently served, and that the minds of those excellent persons will enjoy the delight which flows from exten-. sive and the most important usefulness. J. PYE SMITH. BAPTIST W. NOEL. JV^flr London, Jvne 3, 1836. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST CANADIAN EDITION. The Wesleyan Book Committee believe they can not render a more acceptable and useful service to the Canadian Christian Public, than by the re-publication of *•' Mammon," — a book that was ushored before the British Public with evidence the most conclusive of its intrinsic merit, — as the preceding advertisments will show, — and which is unexcelled in power of argument, and perhaps unequalled in beauty of diction and vivid- ness of illustration, on one of the most important, yet most neglected, subjects of our common Christianity* In less than three years, this work has passed through upwards of thirty editions in England, and several in the United States, and has been the means of awaken- ing many thousands to just views and a proper sense of their duty in regard to the right use of what — from its too general prostitution to unrighteous purposes — has been termed the " Mammon of unrighteousness." The English edition is sold at six shillings sterlin per copy ; by this republication, it will be rendered accessible to the Canadian reader upon more moderate terms. g Wesleyan Book Room, City of Toronto, U. C, May, 1839. PREFACE. The history of this Essay is sufficiently explained by the Advertisements prefixed. But concerning its jo/an, as the reader may possibly expect that the following pages are confined exclusively to the subject of Co- vetousness, the writer may be pei.nitted to state the reasons which have led him to introduce two other topics — Selfishness, and Christian Liberality. A glance at the original Advertisement will show, that while the sin of covetousness was the principal object in the eye of the benevolent Proposer, yet it was viewed and spoken of by him only as a part of the great system of selfishness. The writer felt himself, therefore, not merely permitted, but virtually required, to give this parent evil a primary place in his Essay. He is, however, free to confess, that had he not done so from a sense of obligation, he should most likely have done it from choice, since he deems it an appro- priate introduction to the principal subject. On this account, then, Selfishness, as the great antagonist of Christianity, and the source of Covetousness, forms the First Part. Covetousness — the prevailing form of selfishness — is the Second, and principal. Part. Had the writer concluded with this part, he could not have considered the Essay complete unless a closing section had been added on the Cure of the evil under consideration. In Jl JBLY PREFACE. that case, it would have been obvious to insist on a variety of familiar prudential maxims. But the love of money can only be remedied by " the expulsive power of a new affection." If we would not have the ivy to creep on the ground, we must erect an object which it can embrace, and, by embracing, ascend ; and if we would detach the heart from embracing the dust, we must give it to another and a nobler object. The utter inefficacy of every thing short of this is evi- dent. Hippocrates advised a consultation of all the physicians in the world for the cure of covetousness. The animadversions and appeals of Socrates not only failed to remedy the evil as it existed at Athens, but, judging from certain expressions in Plato's Apology of Socrates, they were the means of enraging his enemies, and of procuring his condemnation. And about the time that the apostle Paul was denouncing the sin in his epistle to Timothy, Seneca was decrying the same evil, and composing his ethics ; but, as if to show the impotence of his own precepts, " he was accused of having amassed the most ample riches," — a circum^ stance which, though not the ostensible, was no doubt the real, cause of his finally falling a victim to the jea- lousy of Nero. But if such be the inefficacy of the precepts of the heathen philosopher, what is the pre- scription of the Christian apostle 1 Aware that the same means which destroy cupidity produce liberality, he does not concern himself so much with the death of covetousness as with the birth of charity. He says less about the sin when seeking its removal, than about the duty which is to displace it. He commands benevolence. He enjoins the " man of God" not only to flee the evil, but to follow the opposite virtues, and to flee the one by following the other. " man of God, flee these things ; and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness Charge them that are rich in this worid. • • .that they do good^ 'i^H tha fl wil m sel 1 th€ 1 cu ^11 _L PREFACS. *■ that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute^ willing to communicate j laying up in store for them- selves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life." Instead, therefore, of ending with a section on the cure of covetousness, the writer thinks he, has copied inspired example, and increased the practical effect of the Essay, and better consulted the intentions of the party who has occasioned it, by adding a Third Part, on Christian Liberalitv. The cross of Christ is not merely a perpetual protest against the selfishness of the world ; it has given a new object to our affections, and a new motive to our obedience — that object is Christ, ? and that motive is the love we bear to him. Till this love possess us, the sublimest maxims will fail to reach the heart ; but from the moment we begin to be actu- ated by it, cupidity and all the baser passions are doomed to destruction. Diodorus Siculus relates that the forest of the Pyre- nean mountains being set on fire, and the heat pene- trating to the soil, a pure stream of silver gushed forth from the bosom of the earth, and revealed for the first time the existence of those rich lodes afterwards so celebrated. Covetousness yields up its pelf for sacred uses as unwillingly as if it were appointed to succeed the earth in the office of holding and concealing it ; but let the melting influence of the cross be felt, let the fire of the gospel be kindled in the church, and its ample stores shall be seen flowing forth from their hid- den recesses, and becoming "the fine gold of the sanctuary." • The title which the writer has adopted for the Essay designates covetousness the sin of the Christian church. He is aware that by bringing even an ordinary evil near to the eye, and prolonging one's gaze at it, it may go on swelling and enlarging in the apprehension, till it has come to fill the whole sphere of vision, to the XVI PREFACE. exclusion and temporary oblivion of other evils of superior magnitude. That covetousness is not the only evil which the Christian church has to confess — that it is only one of many evils — he is quite sensible ; and he trusts that the view which he has taken of its sur- passing enormity is by no means chargeable with the effect of lessening our convictions of those other evils. All the sins of. the Christian church stand closely related ; by action and reaction they are constantly producing and strengthening each other ; and it is to its superior activity and influence in the production of those other sins that cupidity owes its bad pre-emi- nence. If the love of money then be the root of the evils in question, a description of its deadly nature should have the effect, not of diminishing, but aug- menting our aversion to its destructive fruits. The writer feels convinced that the best mode of acquiring a clear, comprehensive, and impressive view of all the existing defects of the Christian church, as a whole, is to view them first separately and in succession ; and that he who succeeds in laying open and correcting one of these defects, has gone far towards remedying all the rest. With the sincere desire that he may be the means of inflicting if only a single blow on the root of all evil, and of thus aiding the growth of that plant " which is from above full of mercy and of good f«»-*a " he would place this Essay at the feet of Him fruits. who deigns to commend the widow's mite. PART THE FIRST. SELFISHNESS THE ANTAGONIST OF THE GOSPEL. SECTION I. THE UNIVERSE DESIGNED TO DISPLAY AND ENJOY THE LOVE OF GOD. " God is love :"— and the true theory of the uni- verse is, that it is a vehicle or medium constructed expressly for the circulation and diffusion of his love. Full of blessedness himself, his goodness burst forth, at first into a celestial creation, replenished with bright intelligences, invested with the high prerogative of approaching as near to the Fountain of excellence as created natures can, to derive their happiness immediately from himself, and to derive it to the full amount of their capacity for enjoyment. But heaven, with all its amplitude, was too confined for Infinite Love j he must enlarge the sphere of his beneficence ; again his unconfined goodness overflowed, and this terrestrial creation appeared — an enlargement B 2 THE UNIVERSE DESIGNED TO DISPLAY, Ac. \ of heaven. On that occasion, however, he chose to diversify the form of his love in the production of man, — a creature whose happiness, though equally with that of angels derived from Himself, should reach him through more indirect and circuitous channels. By creating, at first, ope common father of the species, he designed that each individual should feel himself allied to all the rest, and pledged to promote their happiness. And by rendering us necessary to each other's welfare, he sought to train us to an humble imitation of his own goodness, to teach us the divine art of benevolence — to find and fabricate our own happiness from the happiness of others. Now, if the former, the angelic creation, was meant to exemplify how much his creatures could enjoy, the latter was intended to show how much they could impart ; for he meant every heart and every hand to be a consecrated channel for his love to flow in. Had his great idea been realised, the world would have exhibited the glorious spectacle of a whole race in family compact ; clothed in a robe of happiness, with charity for a girdle ; feasting at a perpetual banquet of beneficence ; hailing the accession of every new-born member as the advent of an angel, an addition to their common fund of enjoyment ; and finding greater blessedness Uian tliat of passively receiving happiness in exercising the godlike prerogative of imparting it ; — a whole order of intelligent beings, having one heart, and one mind; a heart beating in concert with heaven, and diffusing, with every pulse, life, and healdi, and joy, to the remotest members of the body. The mere . SIN, A FRUSTRATION OF GOD'S PLAN. 3 outline of the scene, as sketched by God in paradise, called forth audible expressions of his divine compla- cency ; on surveying it from the height of the excellent glory, he pronounced it good, and the light of his countenance fell upon it. SECTION II. SIN, AS SELFISHNESS, IS THE FRUSTRATION OF THE DIVINE PLAN. But the awful invasion of sin frustrated the divine intention, destroyed it even in its t\pe and model. Man aspired to be as God; and, from that fatal moment, his great quarrel with his Maker has been, a determination to assert a state of independence altogether alien to his nature and condition. The • standard of revolt was then erected, and the history of all his subsequent conduct has been the history of an insane endeavor to construct an empire, governed by laws and replenished with resources, independent of God. The idolatry and sensuality, the unbelief, irre- iigion, and all the multiform sins of man, are resolvable into this proud and infernal attempt. Having by his apostacy cut himself off from God, he affects to be a god to himself, to be bis own sufficiency, his own first and last. Such, however, is the intimate dependence of man on man, that it is impossible for him to attempt to rm * m\'^ I li i 4 8IN, A FRUSTRATION OF G0D»8 PLAN. realize this enormous fiction without being brought, at every step, into violent collision with the interest of his fellows. Love to God is the all-combining principle which was to hold each individual in adhesion to all the rest, and the whole in affinity with God ; the loss of that, therefore, like the loss of the great law of attraction in the material world, leaves all the several parts in a state of repulsion to each other, as well as the whole disjoined from God. Having lost its proper centre in God, the world attempts not to find any common point of repose, but spends itself in fruitless efforts to erect an infinity of independent interests. Every kingdom and province, every family, every individual, discovers a propensity to insulate himself from the common brotherhood, and to constitute himself the centre of an all-subordinating and ever- enlarging circle. Such is the natural egotism of the heart, that each individual, following his unrestrained bent, acts as if he were a whole kingdom in himself, and as if the general well-being depended on subjection to his supremacy. Setting up for himself, to the exclusion of every other being, he would fain be his own end, — the reason of all he does. Under the disorganizing influence of sin, then, the tendency of mankind is towards a state of universal misanthropy ; and were it not that some of their selfish ends can be attained only by partial confederations, the world would disband, society in all its forms would break up, every man's hand would be turned into a weapon, and all the earth liecome a battle-field,' in which the issues to be decided would be as numerous ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. 5 as the combatants, so that the conflict could end only with the destruction of every antagonist. There is, be it observed, a wide difference between selfishness and legitimate self love. This is a principle necessary to all sentient existence. In man, it is the principle which impels him to preserve his own life, and promote his own happiness. Not only is it consis- tent with piety, it is the stoc^ on which all piety, in lapsed man, is grafted. Piety is only the principle of self-love, carried out in the right direction, and seeking its supreme happiness in God. It is the act or habit of a man who so loves himself that he gives himself to God. Selfishness is, fallen self-love. It is self-love in excess, blind to the existence and excellence of God, and seeking its happiness in inferior objects, by aiming to subdue them to its own purposes. ■'I It SECTION III. ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. Accordingly, selfishness, as we have already inti- mated, is the universal form of human depravity ; every sin that can be named is only a modification of it. What is avarice, but selfishness grasping and hoarding ? What is prodigality, but selfishness deco- rating and indulging itself — a man sacrificing to himself as his own god 1 What is sloth, but that god asleep, and refusing to attend to the loud calls of duty ? And B 2 •> ''it i ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. what is idolatry, but that god enshrined, — man, worshipping the reflection of his own image 1 Sen- suality, and, indeed, all the sins of the flesh, are only selfishness setting itself above law, and gratifying itself at the expense of all restraint. And all the sins of the spirit are only the same principle impatient of contradiction, and refusing to acknowledge superiority, or to bend to any will but its own. What is egotism, but selfishness speaking ? Or crime, but selfishness, without its mask, in earnest, and acting ? Or offen- sive war, but selfishness confederated, armed, and bent on aggrandizing itself by violence and blood? An offensive army is the selfishness of a nation embodied, and moving to the attainment of its object over the wrecks of human happiness and life. " From whence come wars and fighting among you ? Come they not hence, even of your Imts ?" And what are all these irregular and passionate desires, but that inordinate self-love which" acknowledges no law, and will be confined by no rules — ^that selfishness which is the heart of depravity ? — and what but this has set the worid at variance, and filled it with strife ? The first presumed sin oC the angels that kept not their first estate, as well as the first sin of man, — what was it but selfishness insane ? an irrational and mad attempt to pass the limits proper to the creature, to invade the throne, and to seize the rights, of the Deity 1 And were we to analyze the very last sin of which we ourselves are conscious, we should discover that selfishness, in one or other of its thousand forms, was its parent. Thus, if love was the pervading principle ALL StN IS SELFISHNESS. of the unfallen creation) it is equally certain that selfishness is the reigning law of the world, ravaged and disorganized by sin. It must be obvious, then, that the great want of fallen humanity, is, a specific against selfishness, the epidemic disease of our nature. The expedient which should profess to remedy our condition, and yet leave this want uprovided for, whatever its other recommen- dations might be, would be leaving the seat and core of our disease untouched. And it would be easy to show that in this radical defect consist the impotence of every system of false religion, and of every hetero- dox modification of the true religion, to restore our disordered nature to happiness and God. And equally easy is it to show that the gospel, evangelically inter- preted, not only takes cognizance of this peculiar feature of our malady, but actually treats it as the very root of our depravity, and addresses itself directly to the task of its destruction, — that, as the first effect of sin was to produce selfishness, so the first effect of the gospel remedy is to destroy that evil, and to i-eplace it with benevolence. 8 '.-M'*' SECTION IV. THE GOSPEL, AS A STSTEM OF BEN£VOLEMC£;» OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. X I It is the glory of the gospel that it was calculated and arranged on the principle of restoring to the world the lost spirit of benevolence. To realise this enter- prise of boundless mercy, Jehovah resolved on first presenting to mankind an unparalleled exhibition of grace — an exhibition which, if it failed to rekindle the extinguished love of man, should, at least, hive the effect of converting his angels into seraphs, and his seraphs into flames of fire. The ocean of the divine love was stirred to its utmost depths. The entire Godhead was — if with profound reverence it may be said — put into activity. The three glorious subsisten- des in the Divine Essence moved towards our earth* Every attribute and distinction of the Divine Nature was displayed: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, embarked their infinite treasures in the cause of human happiness. "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everiasting life." He could not give us more ; and the vast propensions of his grace could not be satisfied by bestowing less. He would not leave it possible to be said that he could give us more : he resolved to pour out the whole treasury of heaven, *o GOSPEL OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. give US his all at once. " Herein is love !" — love defying all computation ; the very mention of which should surcharge our hearts with gratitude, give us an idea of infinity, and replace our selfishness with a sentiment of generous and diffusive benevolence. Jesus Christ came into the world as the embodied love of God. He came and stood before the world with the hoarded love of eternity in his heart, offering to make us the heirs of all its wealth. He so unveiled and presented the character of God, that every human being should feel it to be looking on himself, casting an aspect of benignity on -himself. "He pleased not himself." He did nothing for himself; whatever he did was- for the advantage of man. Selfishness stood abashed in his presence. " He went about doing good." He assumed our nature expressly that he might be able to suffer in our stead ; for the distinct and deliberate object of pouring out its blood, and of making its soul an offering for sin. He planted a cross, and presented to the world a prodigy of mercy of which this is the only solution, that he " so loved us." •' While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." He to 3k our place in the universe, absorbed our interest, opened his bosom, and welcomed to his heart the stroke which we deserved. And in all he did, he thought of the world. He loved man as man ; he came to be the light and life of the world. He came and stood as the centre of attraction to a race of beings scattered and dissipated by the repulsive power of selfishness. H3 proposed by the power of the cross to "draw all men unto 10 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, him." His heart had room for the whole race ; and, opening his arms, he invited all to come unto him. The whole of his course was a history of pure and disinterested benevolence ; one continued act of con- descension; a vast and unbroken descent from the heights of heaven, to the form of a servant, the life of an outcast, the death of a malefactor. His charac- ter is a study of goodness — a study for the universe ; it is the conception of a Being of infinite araiableness j seeking to engage and enamour the heart of a selfish world. The world, having lost the original idea of goodness, and sunk into a state of universal selfishness, his character was calculated and formed on the princi- ple of a laborious endeavor to recall the departed spirit of benevolence — to baptize it afresh in the element of love. The office of the Holy Spirit is appointed and concurs to the same end. The world could not be surprised out of its selfishness, and charmed into bene- volence by the mere spectacle even of divine love. That love can be understood only by sympathy ; but for this, sin had disqualified us. According to the economy of grace, therefore, the exhibition of that love in God is to be made the means of producing love in us ; the glorious spectacle of love as beheld in God, is to be turned into a living principle in us. For this eiid, the holy, unconfined, and infinite Spirit came down. His emblem i| the windj he came like a rushing mighty wind— came with a fulness and a power, as if he sought to fill every heart, to replenish the church, to be the soul of the world, to encircle OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS* the earth with an atmosphere of grace as real and universal as the elemental air which encompasses and circulates around the globe itself, that whoever inhaled it might have eternal life. In the prosecution of his office, he was to take of the things of Christ, and show them unto men. Heaven stooping to earth ; God becoming man, dying upon the cross ; infinite benevolence pouring out all its treasures for human happiness, — these were the things which he was to reveai,— the softening aid subduing elements with which he was to approach and enter the human heart. In his hands, these truths were to become spirit and life. From the moment they were felt, men were to be conscious of a change in their relation both to God and to each other. A view o( the great love wherewith he had loved them, was to fill their minds '.^ith a grand and overpowering sentiment of benevolence, which should melt their obduracy, cause them to glow with gratitude, and bind them fast to himself in the strongest bands of love. That love, with all the communicativeness of fire, was to extend to their fellovir-men. Every weapon of revenge was to fall from their hands ; every epithet of anger was to die on their lips ; and where, before, they saw nothing but foes, they were henceforth to behold magnificent objects of affection, immortal beings, whom it would be happiness to love, and godlike to bless. The love of Christ would constrain them ; glowing and circulating in their spiritual system, like the life-blood in their hearts, it would impel them to be active for his glory. Having communed with fii il2 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, I •t ' the heart of Infinite Love, they were to go forth and mingle with their race, filled with a benevolence like that which brought their Lord from heaven. Placing themselves at his disposal, they were to find that they were no longer detached from the species, but resitored and related to all around ; the sworn and appointed agents of happiness to the world. The institution of a church, is only the continuation and application of the great scheme of love. Its offices were not to terminate on itself. It was constructed on the principle of consolidating and facilitating the operations of divine benevolence upon the world. The Son of God — the great manifestation of that love — must personally wilhdraw from the earth ; but his church, consisting of the aggregate of all on whom that love had taken effect, would continue to give visibility and activity to that love. He stopped not at the bare exhibition of his grace, but turned that exhi- bition into a means of implanting a kindred principle of love in the human heart : he stopped not at the implantation of this principle, but instituted a church for the express purpose of employing it for the benefit of the world ; of employing it on the largest scale, and with the greatest effect, — and of thus conferring on it the power of propagating itself. In the Christian church, everything would conspire to keep alive in its members the new principle which Christ had brought into the world, and to give effici- ency to its benign operations. Love was the principle which would bring them together, which would draw them from their distant and detached position, harmon- OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 13 120 their jarring nature;?, and fuse all their hearts and interests into oie. Conve'gig from the raost oppo- site points, they would meet at the cross; and the principle whlcli had drawn them to that would bind them to each other. Each would behold in every other a living memorial of his Lord; and see, in the grace of Christ to the whole, a token of that grace to himself in particular. Here, love, as an ggent or instrument, either giving or receiving, was to find itself in perpetual exercise, and to behold its image reflected in every fatje. But Love is diffusive ; it would not confine its offices to those only who could repay them ; bursting the limits of the church, it would seek the world. Every heart in which it glowed, finding itself allied to every other Christian heart, and the whole feeling themselves reinforced with the benevolence of Heaven, would meditate the conversion of the world. As often as they approached the throne of grace, they would find themselves touching the springs of universal and almighty love, — and would they not yearn to behold these springs in activity for the world? As often as they thought of that love embracing themselves, their own love would burn with ten-fold fervor; the sel- fishness of their nature would be consumed ; the most enlarged designs of benevolence would seem too small, the most costly sacrifices to > cheap ; they would feel as if they must precipitate themselves into some boundless field of beneficence ; as if they could only breathe and act in a sphere which knows no circum- ference. As often as they surveyed their infinite c Vk THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, W. f\ resources in Christ, and perceived that when all their own necessities were supph'ed those resources were infinite still, they would naturally remember the exi- gencies of others ; would feel that they had access to* the whole, that they might instrumentally impart of that abundance to others. The feast would be pre- pared, the provisions iufinite ; and when they were seated at the banquet, and contrasted that plenitude of food with the fewness of the guests, they would conceive a fixed determination not to cease inviting till all the world should be sitting with them at the feast of salvation. The name they were to bear would perpetually remind them of him from whom they had derived it ; and would it be possible for them to have their minds inhabited by the glorious idea of Christ without receiving corresponding impressions of great- ness ? — It would be associated in their minds with all things great, beneficent, godlike, impelling them to imitate to the utmost his diffusive goodness. But not only their name, from him they would have derived their nature ; by necessity of nature, therefore, they would pant to behold universal happiness. Not only would they feel that every accession to their number was an increase of their happiness ; as long as the least portion of the worid remained unblessed, and unsaved, they would feel that their happiness was incomplete. Nothing less than the salvation of the whole worid would be regarded by them as the com- plement of their number, the fulfilment of their office, the consummation of their joy. Thus the Christian church, like the leaven hid in 1 OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 15 the meal, was to pervade and assimilate the entire mass of humanity. At first, it would resemble an imperium in imperio, a dominion of love flourishing amidst arid wastes of selfishness; but, extending on all sides its peaceful conquests, it would be seen trans- forming and encompassing the world. Combining and concentrating all the elements of moral power, it would move only to conquer, and conquer only to increase the means of conquest. It would behold its foes converted into friends; and then, assigning to each an appropriate station of duty, would bid him forthwith go and try upon others the power of that principle which had subdued his own opposition — the omnipotent power of love. Thus thawing, and turning into its own substance, the icy selfishness of humanity, the great principle of benevolence would flow through the world with all the majesty of a river, widening and deepening at every point of its progress by the acces- sion of a thousand streams, till it covered the earth as the waters cover the sea. They who, under tlie reign of selfishness, had sought to contract the circle of hap- piness around them till they had reduced it to their own little centre, under the benign and expansive influence of the gospel, would not only seek to enlarge .that circle to embrace the world, but to multiply and ^ifl'use themselves in happiness to its utmost circum- ference. Feeling that good is indivisible ; that to be enjoyed in perfection by one, it must be shared and possessed by all, they would labour till all the race were blended in a family compact, and were partaking together the rich blessings of salvation ; till, by their 16 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEIV, instrumentality, the hand of Christ had carried a gplden chain of love around the world, binding the whole together, and all to the throne of God. It is clear, then, that the entire etoaoniy of salva* tion is constructed on the principle of restoring to the world the lost spirit of love: this is its boast and glory. Its advent was an era in the universe. Il was bringing to a trial the relative strength of h)ve and hatred ; — the darling principle of heaven, and the great principle of all revolt and sin. It was confronting selfishness in its own native region, with a syt-tem of benevolence prepared, as its avowed antagonist, by the hand of God itself. So that, unless we would impugn the skill and power of its Author, we must suppose tliat it was studiously adapted for the lofty encounter. With this conviction, therefore, we should have been justified in saying, had we been placed in a situation to say it^ " Nothing but the treachery of its professed friends can defeat it: if they attempt a compromise with the spirit of selfishness, there is every thing to be feared ; but let the heavenly system be worked fairly, and there is every thing to be expected, — its triumph is certain." But /ms its object been realii^ed ? More than eighteen hundred years have elapsed since it was brought into operation, — has its design succeeded? Succeeded ! Alas ! the question seems a taunt, a mockery. We pass, in thought, from the picture we have drawn of what the gospel was inievdid to effect, to the contemplation of things as they are^ and the contrast appals us. We lift our eyes from the picture, and, like a person awaking from a dream of happinesa m OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 17 to find the cup of wretchedness in his hand, th6 pleasing vision has fled. Selfishness is every where rife and rampant. But why is it thus t why has the gospel been hitherto threatened with the failure of a mere human experiment t When first put into activity, did it dis- cover any want of adaptation to its professed purpose ? The recollection that God is its author, forbids the thought. It is the wisdom of God, and the power of God. But besides this, as if to anticipate the question, and to suggest the only reply, — as if in all ages to agitate an inquiry into the apparent ineflicacy of the gospel, and to flash conviction in the face of the church as often as the question is raised, when first the gospel commenced its career, it triumphed in every place. No form of selfishness could stand before it. It went forth conquering and to conquer. **' And all that believed were together, and had all things com- mon ; and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need." They went every where, preaching the gospel. They felt that they held in their hands the bread of life for a famishing world, and they "could not but" break and dispense it. The love of Christ constrained them. As if his last command were constantly sounding in their ears, they burned to preach the gospel to every creature. They felt the dignity and glory of their position, that they were constituted trustees for the world ; executors of a Saviour who had bequeathed happinesL to man ; guardians of the most sacred rights in the universe. In the execution of their godlike c 2 13 SELFISHNESS, THE SlfT OF THE CHURCH. trust, death confronted them at every step : persectr- tion, armed, brought out all its apparatus of terror and torture, and planted itself fu!! in their path: but none of these things moved them ; they scarcely saw them j they went on prosecuting their lofty task of making the world happy, for they were actunted by a love stronger tlian death. The world was taken by surpriese, — never before had it beheld such men, — every thing gave way before them, — city after city, and province after pro- vince, capitulated, — yet the whole secrci of their power was love. Diversified as they were in mind, country, condition, age — one interest prevailed ; one subject of emulation swallowed up every other — which should do most for the enlargement of tht reign of love. A fire had been kindled in the earth, irhicii consumed the selfishness of men wherever it came. " SECTION V. SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE WORLD, HAS LONG SINCE EECOME THE SIN OP THE CHURCH. Again, then, we repeat the momentous inquiry, — and we would repeat it slowly, solemnly, and with a desire to receive the'full impression of the only answer which can be given to it ;— what has prevented the gospel from fulfilling its first promise, and completely taking effect? what has hindered it from filling every heart, every province, the whole world, the entire UL SELPISHNGSS, THE SIN OP THE CUUnCH. 19 mass of humanity, with the one spirit of divine bene- volence? why, on the ct»ntrnry, has the gospel, the ^at instrument of divine love, been threatened, age after ag^, with failure? Ounng^ solely^ to the treachery of thone who have had ihe nilminis'raiicn of it ; — ^owingy en'irely, to the selfishness of the church. No element essential to success has been left nut of its arrangsments ; all thos'e elements have always been in the po^se^ssibn of tlie church ; no new fdrni of evil has arisen in the world ; no antngoriist has appeared there which the gospel did not encounter and subdue in its firit onset ; yet, at this advanced stage of its existencs, when it ought to be reposing from the con- quest of the world, the church listens to an acxount of its early triumphs, as if they were meant only for wonder, and not for imitation ; as if they partook too much of the romance of henevolence to be again attempted ; — now, when it oi.ght to be holding the world in fee, it is harely occupying a few scattered provinces, as if by suflerance, and has to begin its conflicts again. And, we repent, the only adequate explanatioM of this appalling fact is, that selfishness^ the sin of the worldy has become the prevailing sin of ihe church, ♦ » This staterent, indeed, may, at first sight, appear inconsistent with the truth, that the church is only the depository and instrument of divine benevolence. But to reconcile the two, it is only necessary to remember that every component part of that church, each Christian heart, taken individually, is only an epitome of the state of the world — partially sanctified, and tf 20 SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE CHURCff. partially depraved— containing in it, indeed, a divine principle of renovation, and a principle which w destined finally to triumph, but which has, meanwhile, to maintain it? ground by perpetual conflict, and, at times, to struggle even for existence. While viewed collectively, the church may bo regarded in tiie light of a vast hospital, filled with those who are all, indeed, under cure, but who have all to complain of the inveteracy of their disease, and of the consequent slowness of the healing process. It depends, there* fore, on the degree to which they avail themselves of the means of recovery, whether or not they shall become active and instrumental in the recovery of their perishing fellow- men. And the charge alleged against them, is, that they have not abandoned them- selves to the divine specific, the great remedy of the gospel ; in consequence of which, they continue to labor all their life-time under the disqualifying efiects of their original disease, and their healing instrumen- tality is entirely lost to the diseased and dying world. Selfishness, the disease of the world, is the prevailing malady of the church. It would be easy and interesting to trace the steps of that awful transition by which the church passed from the ardour of its first love, to the cold selfishness which it afterwards exhibited. Viewed in its primi- tive state, it appears a flaming sacrifice, offering itself up in the fires of a self-consuming zeal for the salva- tion of the world. But viewed again after the lapse of a few centuries — how changed the spectacle ! — it is ofifering up that very world to its own selfishness f Its SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE CHURCH. 21 own fires nre burnt out ; and it is seen kirii'liiig the strange fires of another sacrifice ; devoting and pre- senting the world as a viclim at its various shririCS of vvcaltli, and pride, anJ power. Fio:n being an image of the divine disinterestedness and love, ext(.rt- ing the admiration of the world, and winning men to an imitalion of its benevolence, it patsed thro; gli the various stages of >piritual declen^ion, calculatir.g con- eeqiienceH, growing itidill'erent to its peculiar duties, turning its influence into worldly c!iannel:i, subordi- natirg every thing sacred to worldly greatne>s and gain, till it had become a monstrous person iflc.ation of an all-graspir,g selfishness, from which the world itself miglit derive hints and lessons on the art of self- agg.'andizement, but derive them in vain for its own e8ca))e. Instead, however, of enlarging on the early opera- tions of set fish nesss, it will be more relevant to the design before us to show the fact and mode of its operation in the church at present. For lorg and triumphant as its reign has been, its days are num- bered. The gospel is not to sustain a fin I defeat. The Church of Christ is yet to realise the glorious intentions of its Heavenly Founder — to re-fill the world with love. Its failure hitherto is only to be regarded in the light of a severe, indeed, but temporary reverse. Its final victory is not ctmtir g.Mit. The past has, at least, 'Ictionstratcd its vitality ; the present is evincin? its »'';«jticitv ; the future shall bear witness to its trium|ihs, so that in aiming to indicati^ the movements and operations of its great antagonisti THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS Bfii\ [If selfishness, we feel that we are contributing, in liowever humble a degree, to retrieve its lost honors, and to point it the way to victory. SECTION VI. THE FORMS OP SELFISHNESS IN THE CHURCH. m Of selfishness it may be said, as of its archetype, Satan, that it "takes all shapes that serve its dark designs." One of the most frequent forms in which it appears is that of party spirit ; and which, for the sake of distinction, may be denominated the selfishness of the sect. Circumstances, perhaps, inevitable to humanity in its present probationary state, have dis- tributed the Christian church into sections ; but as the points of difference, which have divided it, are, for the most part, of much less importance than the vital points in which these sections agree, there is nothing in the nature of such differences to necessitate more than circumstantial division : there is every thing in their principles of agreement to produce and per^ petuate substantial oneness, and cordial love. But this the demon of selfishness forbids. It erects the points of difference into tests of piety. It resents any real dignity offered by the world to the entire church, far less than it resents any supposed insult offered by other sections of the church to its own party. The general welfare is nothing in its eye, compared with Wa own should world, and, tu mented is blind them al to beh( prevent church good of secrate( which feelings has air Christii crimin; specta( ing all each Christi lattQT g Big( nate se this ca divisio among gteat conser of its only 1 IN THE CHURCH. ^UT 23 its own particular aggrandizement. When Christians should have been making common cause against the world, selfishness is calling on its followers to arm, and, turning each section of the church into a battle- mented fortress, frowns defiance on all the rest. It is blind to the fact, that God, meanwhile, is employing them all, and smiling upon them all ; or, if compelled to behold it, eyeing it askance with a feeling which prevents it from rejoicing in their joy. When the church should have been spending its energies for the good of man, devoting its passions like so much con- secrated fuel, for offering up the great sacrifice of love which God is waiting to receive, it is wasting its feelings in the fire of unholy contention, till that fire has almost become its native element. And thus Christianity is made to present to the eye of an indis- criminating world, the unamiable and paradoxical spectacle of a system which has the power of attract- ing all classes to itself, but of repelling them all from each other — forgetting, that in the former they see Christianity triumphing over selfishness, and in the lattQr selfishness defeating Christianity. Bigotry is another of the forms in which an inordi- nate self-love delights — the selfishness of the creed. In this capacity, as in the former, its element is to show division where nothing should be seen but union among the mp'^'^.uers of the family of Christ. The g^eat scheme of mercy originated in a love which consented to overlook the enmity and fierce rebellion of its objects, or rather, which looked on that enmity only to pity and provide for its removal j but those THE FORMS OP SELFISHNESS who profess lo have been the oljecis of that love,; will not a!!()vv each other the liberty of i!ie s!"g*iJest consrientious diUbrence. without re.'enlir.u timt difler- eniv ns a personal and meditated air.o.il; as il* the natural enmity of their hearts agiinst GoJ had only changed its direction, and had found its ii gitimate o')jects in his, people. Under a pretence of zeal for God, hiirotrv violates the saiictuarv of ct)nbT.ieMC.e, and creates an inq-iisilion in the niidst of ilje church. Erecting its own creed into a standard of universal belief, it wniilJ fain call down fire from heaven, or kindle a furnace seven times hotter than an o.'dinary ang:r would demand, for all who presume to question its iiifallihdity : — thus justifying the world in repre- senting the odium iheologicum as a concL^ntration of all that is fierce, bitter, and destruc.t'fve, in the human heart. The Lord they profess to obey, wouhl have ihem to embrace with a comprehensive aflection all • who exhil)it the least traces of his itnag;^; but the strongest traits, the most marked conformity to his likeness, is a very uncertain introduction to their hearts compared with a likeness of rreed. Nearly akin to this is, what, fur the sake of con- veniem-.e, may be denominated ihe seffiskness of the pulpit ; that fearful spirit which prtsumes to limit what God meant to be universal — the overtures of redemption to a ruined world. Selfi^inesc, indeed, in this repulsive form, is of comparatively limited existence; and as if by a judicial arrangement of providence, it is comn-oily, in our day, associated with errors and tempers so unamiable that its own (■ 4 s?i-.%i.t i» THE CHURCH. 3H ' t5 ^ndture forbids it to become general. It daringly undertakes to " number Israel •" to detennnine not only that few will be saved, but who that few will be. Its ministers, faithful to their creed, stand before the cross, and hide it, lest men should see it who are not entitled or intended to behold it; — a danger which they jealously avoid, a responsibility they would trem* ble to incur. The gospel charters redemption to the world,-— but they have heard that there are divine decrees; and until they can logically reconcile their views of the divine inflexibility with the universality of the divine compassion, the charter must stand over, and souls perish unwept; and the gospel of Christ, God's great gift, the adequate image of the infinitude of his love, be branded with the stigma of exclusive- ness. Put the affairs of the kingdom of Christ into their hands, — and, under the affectation of a pious dread of contravening the sovereign purposes of God, or of forestalling his appointed time, — they would forthwith call home the agents of mercy in distant lands, break up the institutions, and stop the whole machinery of Christian benevolence. In the midst of a famishing world, they would establish a monopoly of the bread of life ; and, though assailed on all sides by the cries of a race in the pains of death, would not -cease to exchange smiles radiant with self-compla- cency while continuing to cater to their own pam- pered appetites. " Lord,* lay not this sin to their •charge." "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." They know not that they are per- verting that which was meant to be the destruction h> I ■li t6 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS of Bclfishness, into its very aliment and nurse ; they know not, that, next to the destruction ^f the gospel, they could not furnish Satan with a greater triumph than thus to silence its inviting voice, and to suppress the agencies of its disciples. It is to arrest the course of the angel having the everlasting gospel, and flying through the midst of heaven, and to confine him to their own contracted horizon ; to demonstrate that nothing is too monstrous to be apprehended from our nature when its selfish tendencies are the materials employed, since it can construct a system out of the gospel itself, whose most appropriate title would be " Christianity made selfishness." The selfishness of the pew, is another form of the same pervading evil ; incomparably less pernicious, indeed, than the last mentioned, but far more extensive in its existence. This is that modification of selfish piety which lives only to be personally comforted; which, in all its reading and hearing, makes its own individual comfort, not a means, but an end ; and which in pursuit of that end, goes up and down in this world, crying, "Give, give, and is never satisfied." The divine Redeemer describes the faithful shepherd as leaving the ninety and nine sheep for a time, to traverse the wilderness in quest of the one wanderer. But this unlovely spirit, reversing the touching picture, would have him neglect ninety and nine wanderers to attend exclusively to one folded sheep. An epicure in comfort, it is impatient if the cup of consolation be removed from its lips for a moment, though that moment was only seized to say to a famishing mulU- a^ii* IN THE CHURCH. ^U'i' 27 tude, " Gome now, for all things are ready." Devout only in little things, it cannot bear to have its mind diverted from its own personal and particular state, even though the sight to which its attention is called is the want of a world. It will consent to listen just once a year to the claims of the perishing heathen . but it feels as if more than that were too much, — were pressing the subject unnecessarily on its attention. The amplitude of the divine love seeks to comprehend the universe in its large and life-giving embrace, and calls on our affections to arise and follow it in its vast diffusion ; but this selfishness stays at home, builds itself in, sees r;o glory in that love, but as it embraces a single point, and that point itself. Consistent with itself, this same spirit, if followed from public into private, is found to become the selfishness of the closet. It penetrates even to the throne of God, and there, where, if any where, a man should give himself up to what is godlike, there, where he should go to engage an almighty agency in the behalf of his race, it banishes from his thoughts every interest but his own, rendering him a suppliant for himself alone. It makes him as exclusively intent on his own individual advantage, as if spiritual, like worldly good, could not be shared by others without diminishing the portion to be enjoyed by himself. Let us place ourselves, in imagination, near to the throne of God, — and what do we behold i — a number of needy suppliants returning daily to his throne, a large proportion of whom are as unmindful of each tfther as if each came from a different world, and * 28 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS lepresented a distinct race of beings ; as completeFj- absorbed in their respective interests as if the welfare of the species depended on their individual success. There, where each should think of all, and feel himself blended with the great whole, he virtually disowns kindred with all, deserts the common interest, and strives for himself alone. They come and lay their hand upon the springs of an agency, which, if put in motion, would diffuse happiness through the world ; but they leave that agency unsolicited and unmoved. The blessed God calls them into his pre- sence, partly that they might catch the radiance of his throne, and transmit it to a world immersed in the shadow of death ; but, provided they catch a ray of that light for themselves, the gloom of the world may remain unrelieved. He points out the infinity of their resources in himself, gives them access to more than they need for themselves, in order that they may go and instrumentally administer to the wants of others. He calls them to his throne as a royal priesthood, as intercessors for the race ; but instead ol imploring the divine attention to the wants of the world, each of them virtually calls it off from every other object, to consecrate it upon a unit, and that unit himself. He has so laid his vast and gracious plans, that he can be enjoyed fully, only in communion, in the great assero- .bly of heaven ; but, in contravention of these plans, each one seeks to contract for himself separately with God, as if he would fain engross to himself the whole of the divine goodness. What an alfecting view is this of the power of selfishness, and of the infinite patience of God in bearing with it. <^'-. IN THE CHURCH. 29 But the form under which this Protean evil works more insidiously and extensively, perhaps, than in any which have been specified, is that of a worldly spirit ; — we will venture to call it the selfishness of the purse. It was the design of Christ in redeeming and saving his people by the sacrifice of himself, to convince them that his interest and theirs were identical ; — that iie and they were one ; — that to enjoy any prosperity distinct from the prosperity and glory of his kingdom was impossible. And by further proposing to employ their instrumentality for the enlargement of his king- dom, he intended to give them an opportunity of evincing their love to his name, and of consecrating all the means they could abstract from the necessary demands of time, to the great cause of salvation. It was only vi'^arrantable to expect, that the exhibition of his love, and the claims of his kingdom, coming with full force upon their hearts, would overwhelm all wordly considerations j that they would bring forth their wealth, and present it with the ardent devotion of an offering ; that henceforth they would desire to prosper in the world only that they might have the more to lay at his feet ; that they would instantly devise a plan of self-denial, each one for himself, the object of which should be to augment, to the utmost, their contributions to his cause; that nothing but the fruits of such self-denial would be dignified with the name of Christian charity ; and that the absence of 8uch self-denial, and the consequent fruits of it, would be regarded as a forfeiture of the Christian name ; that d 2 ; i| ■ 9 '■.lit K 4 ! 11 30 THE FORMS OP SELFISHNESS '?? the church, as "ihe bride, the Lamb's wife," would feel that she had, that she could have, no interest apart from his — that all her worldly possessions belonged to him, and that she would gratefully and cheerfully surrender them to him, wishing that, for his dear sake, they had been ten thousand-fold more. To ask if such is the conduct of the Christian church would be worse than trifling. "/" seek their own, not the thing.-^ which are Jesus L;nn..^'s." As if their interest and his were two, separate, opposite, irreconcilable things ; or, as if they had never heard of the grace, the claims, or even the name of Christ, the great majority of Christian professors may be seen, from age to age, pursuing their own ends as eagerly, and wasting their substance as selfishly, as the world around them. They seek their worldly prosperity. They know of nothing equal to that. Every thing is made to give way to that. The cause of Chri;3t itself must wait for that, and is onlv held secondary to it. What ! neslect any thing which tends to increase their gains ! — they would deem themselves mad to think of it ; even though the salvation of an immortal soul had to wait in consequence. And thus, while God has to com- plain of them {IS slothful and unfaithful in his service, Mammon can boast of them as among his most diligent and devoted servants. They seek their worldly ease and enjoyment. Selfi self, is the idol to which they are perpetually sacrificing ; the monster, whose ravenous appetite they are perpetually feasting, and which eats np nearly * tN THE CHURCH. 31 all they have. So great is the cost of dressing and decorating this idol, of serving and feasting it, of consulting its voracious appetites, and ministering to its various gratifications, that but little is left for the cause of Christ. It is a *' soul-wasting monster, that is fed and sustained at a dearer rate, and with more costly sacrifices and repasts, than can be paralleled by either sacred or other history ; that hath made more desolation in the souls of men than ever was made in their towns and cities where idols were served with only human sacrifices, or monstrous creatures satiated only with such food ; or where the lives and safety of the majo.'ity were to be purchased by the constant tribute of the blood of not a {ew ! that hath devoured more and preyed more cruelly upon human lives, than Moloch, or the Minotaur !"* Self, is Dives in the mansion, clothed in purple, and faring sumptuously every day ; — the cause of Christ, is Lazarus, lying at his gate, and fed only with the crumbs which fall from his table. ' These are some of the leading forms of that demon of selfishness, whose name is Legion, and which, in every age, has been the great antagonist of the gospel, threatening, at times, even to drive the principle of benevolence from the world. What but this is it which keeps the piety of the individual professor joyless to himself? — which renders many a congrega- tion of professing Christians a company of inactive useless men, assembling merely for their own religious ends, and separating only to pursue their own worldly ♦ Howe. 1 32 THE FORMS OF SELFIflHNISfl ends, aa regardless of the welfare of others as if none but themselves inhabited the earth 1 — which turns the several denominations of which the Christian church is composed, into so many sources of mutual dis- quietude and weakness? — and which makes that church the scorn of an infidel world, instead of its boast and glory 1 It has defrauded millions of the offer of eternal life : — and what but selfishness is, at this moment, defrauding God of his glory, long since due? andthechuicU of its promised prosperity ? and the world of the redemption provided for it? Well has self been denominated the great Antichrist; for, though it may not bo the antichrist of prophecy which is to appear in the latter day, it is the antichrist of every day and every age ; the great usurper of the rights of Christ, the great antagonist and obstacle to his universal reign. " For all geek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's." That we do not exaggerate its pernicious power, let it only be supposed that selfishness, in all the forms we have specified, has been banished from the church, — and what would ensue? Each denomination of Christians, without sacrificing its distinctive character, would embrace and seek to ally itself as closely with all the rest as a community of interest, hope and affection could bind it. Each creed would have the necessity and divinity of brotherly love among its primary articles— teaching the Christian that a heart glowing with affection to " the brethren," exhales the incense most acceptable to God ; that such love is God in man. Devotion no longer terminating in itself, of me m il'u IN THE CHURCH. 33 would go to God, and plead for the world. Piety, no longer seeking after comfort as an end, would find it without seeking ; find it in the paths of Christian activity and usefulness. Like the piety of apostolic times, it would be exempted from all the morbid com- plaints of a slothful religion, and would find its health and enjoyment in living to Christ. The whole church would be kindled into a sacrificial flame for his glor)-, into which every Christian would cast the savings of his self-denial as appropriate fuel for feeding a flame so sacred. A love which would yearn over the vi^hole human race ; zeal which would be constantly devising fresh methods of usefulness, denying itself, and laying itself out for God ; and a perseverance which would never rest till the whole family of man should be seated at the banquet of salvation ; — these would be the prevailing features of the entire Christian commu- nity. From such a scene the eternal Spirit could not be absent ; its very existence would demonstrate his presence. The tabernacle of God would be with men upon the earth. God would bless us, and all the ends of the earth woukl fear him. Now, of all this, selfishness is defi-auding us. It is keeping the universe in suspense. Like a spring- season held back by the chilling breath of winter, all things are waiting for the desired change ; when the Christian church, bursting forth as in the vernal beauty of its youth, shall become another paradise, full of melody, incense, and joy. K 1 PART THE SECOND. COVETOUSNESS.— THE PRINCIPAL FORM OF SELFISHNESS— IN ITS NATURE, FORM, PREVALENCE, ESPECIALLY IN BRITAIN, DISGUISES, TESTS, EVILS, DOOM, AND PLEAS. SECTION L THE NATURE OF COVETOUSNESS. If selfishness be the prevailing form of sin, covet- ousness may be regarded as the prevailing form of selfishness. This is strikingly intimated by the apostle Paul, when, describing the " perilous times" of the final apostacy, he represents selfishness as the prolific root of all the evils which will then prevail, and covetousness as its first fruit. " For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous." In passing, therefore, from the preceding' outline of selfishness in general, to a consideration of this form of it in particular, we feel that we need not labor to magnify its importance. A very little reflection will suffice to show that, while the other forms of selfish- 1 \/ 36 THE NATURE OF COVETOUSNESS. ness are partial in their existence, this is universal J that it lies in our daily path, and surrounds us like the atmosphere ; that it exceeds all others in the plausibility of its pretences, and the insidiousness of its operations; that it is, commonly, the last form of selfishness which leaves the heart ; and that Chris- tians who have, comparatively, escaped from all the others, may still be unconsciously enslaved by this. If there be ground to fear that covetousness " will, in all probability, prove the eternal overthrow of more characters among professing people than any other sin, because it is almost the only crime which can be indulged, and a profession of religion at the same time supported;'' and if it be true also, that it operates more than any other sin to hold the church in apparent league with the world, and to defeat its design, and to rob it of its honors as the instrument of the world's conversion, surely nothing more can be necessary to reveal the appalling magnitude of the evil, and to ^ justify every attempt that may be made, to sound an alarm against it. Covetousness denotes the state of a mind from which the Supreme Good has been lost, laboring to replace him by some subordinate form of enjoyment. The determinate direction which this craving takes after money, is purely accidental, and arises from the general consent of society, that money shall be the representative of all property, and, as such, the key to all the avenues of worldly enjoyment. But as the existence of this conventional arrangement renders the possession of some amount of property indispensable, THE )7AtUR£ OF C0VET0U8NESS* 21 ^(hie application of the term covetousness has come to he confined almost exclusively to an inordinate and selfish regard for money. Our liability to this sin arises, we cay, from tlie perception that <* money answereth all things." — Riches in themselves, indeed, ate no evil. Nor is the bare posseision of them wrong. Nor is the desire to possess them sinful, provided that dei^re exist under certain restrictions. For in almost every stage of civilization money is requisite to procure the conve- niences, and even the necessaries of life ; to desire it, therefore, as the means of life, is as innocent as to live. In its higher application, it may be made the instrument of great relative usefulness; to seek it, then, as the means of tioing good, is not a vice, but a virtue. But, perceiving that money is so important an agent in society ; — that it not only fences ofi" the wants and woes of poverty, but that> like a centre of attrac- tion, it can draw to itself every object of Worldly desire from the farthest circumference ; — the tempta- tion arises of desiring it inordinately 5 of even desiring it for its own sake ; of supposing that the instniment of procuring so much good must itself possess intrinsic excellence. From observing that gold could procure for us whatever it touches, we are tempted to wish, like the fabled king, that whatever we touch might be turned into gold. But the passion for money exists in various degrees, and exhibits itself in very different aspects. No •classification of its multiplied forms, indeed, can, from the nature of things, be rigorously exact. All ita I :f 38 FORMS OF COVETOU8NES8. branches and modifications run into each other^ and are separated by gradations rather than by lines of demarcation. The most obvious and general distinc' tion, perhaps, is that which divides it into the desire of getting, as contradistinguished from the desire of keeping that which is already possessed. But each of these divisions is cnpable of subdivision. Worldli- ness, rapacity, and an ever-craving, all-consuming prodigality, may belong to tlie one; and parsimony, niggardliness, rnd avarice, to the other. The word covetotisnesSf hovi^ever, is popularly employed as synonymous with each of these terms, and as com* prehensive of them all. ' SECTION 11. FORMS OP COVETOUSNESS. By worldliness, we mean cupidity in its earliest^ most plausible, and most prevailing form: not yet sufficiently developed to be conspicuous to the eye of man, yet sufficiently characteristic and active to incur the prohibition of God. It is that quiet and ordinary operation of the principle which abounds most with excuses ; which is seldom questioned even by the majority of professing Christians j which the morality of the world allows, and even commends ; which may live, unrebuked, through a whole life, under the decent garb of frugality, and honest indui" FORMS OF COVETOU8NES8. 39 try ; and which thus silently works the destruction of multitudes without alarming them. Rapacity \3 covetousness grasping ; " making haste to be rich." This is the true " wolf in the breast," ever feeding, and yet ever craving ; so ravenous that nothing is like it except death and the grave. It is a passion which compels every other feeling to its aid ; the day seems too short for it ; success is looked on as a reward and a spur ; failure as a punishment for some relaxation of the passion ; the wealth of others seems to reproach it ; the poverty of others to warn it. Determined to gratify itself, it overlooks the morality of the means, despises alike the tardiness of industry, and the scruples of integrity, and thinks only of the readiest way to success. Impatient of delay, it scorns to wait for intimations of the divine will, or to watch the movements of Providence ; and the only restraints which it acknowledges — though many of these it would gladly overleap — are such as our fears of each other have erected into laws, for the express purpose of confining it within bounds. > ^ - ' Parsimony is covetousness parting with its life- blood. It is the frugality of selfishness; the art of parting with as little as possible. Of this disposition it can never be said that it gives, but only that it capitulates: its freest bestowments have the air of a surrender made with an ill grace. Avarice is covetousness hoarding. It is the love of money in the abstract, or, for its own sake. Covetousness, in this monstrous form, indeed, is but of rare occurrence. For as money is a eompendium iO FORMS OF COVETOUSNEStf. of all kinds of worldly good, or so much condensed world, it is mostly desired for the sake of the gratifica- tions which it can purchase ', it is sought and valued as a kind of concentrated essence, which can be diluted at pleasure, and adapted to the taste of every one who possesses it. But avarice is content with the bare possession of the essence ; stopping short at tiie means, it is satisfied without the end. By a strange infatuation, it looks upon gold as its own end ; and, as the ornaments which the Israelites transferred into the hands of Aaron became a god, so gold, in the hands of avarice, becomes an ultimate good : to speak of its utility, or its application to practical purposes, would be almost felt as a profanation. Other vices have a particular view to enjoyment, (falsely so called,) but the very term miser is a confession of the misery which attends avarice ; for, in order to save his gold, the miser robs himself; •'.Throws up his interest in both worlds; :■ ' ■ " First starved in this, then damned in that to come."^ He cannot be said to possess wealth ; wealth possesses him ; or else he possesses it like a fever which burns and consumes him as if molten gold were circulating in his veins. Many vices wear out and are aban- doned as age and experience increase, but avarice strikes deeper root as age advances; and, like the solitary tree of the desert, flourishes amidst sterility where nothing else could survive. Other passions are paroxysms, and intermit ; but avarice is a distemper which knows no intervals. Other passions have their times of relaxauon ; but avarice is a tyrant whiclk 90RMS OF C0VeTOU8N£SS. 41 M never sufiers its slaves to rest. It is the fabled dragon with its golden fleece, and with lidless and unslum- bering eyes it keeps watch and ward night and day. prodigality, though directly opposed to avarice or hoarding, is quite compatible with cupidity; and is, indeed, so frequently found in combination with it, that it may be regarded as one of its complex forms. The character which Sallust gives of Catiline, that " he was covetous of other men's wealth, while he squandered his own," is one of very common occur- rence. And we notice it here to show, that although men may occasionally be heard pleading their extra- vagance to clear themselves from the charge of cupidity, it yet originates in the same cause, produces precisely the same effects, employs the same sinful means of gratification, and incurs the same doom. They must be covetous that they may be prodigal : one hand must "collect, that the other may have where- with to scatter: covetousness, as the steward to prodigality, must furnish supplies, and is often goaded into rapacity, that it may raise them. Thus prodi- gality strengthens covetousness by keeping it in constant activity, and covetousness strengthens pro- digality by slavishly feeding its voracious appetite. Taking possession of the heart, " they divide the man between them," each in turn becoming cause and effect. But prodigal self-indulgence not only produces cupidity, it stands to every benevolent object in the same relation as avarice — it has nothing to give. A system of extravagant expenditure renders benevolence impos- sible, and keeps a man constantly poor towards God. e 2 ij y 48 SECTION III. PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. To the charge of covetousness, under one or other of these various forms, how large a proportion of mankind, and even of professing Christians, must plead guilty ! It is true, indeed, that all these modifi- cations of covetousness cannot co-exist in the same miind, for some of them are destructive of each other; and such is the anxiety of men to escape from the hateful charge entirely, that, finding they are exempt fi'om some of its forms, they flatter themselves that they are guiltless of all. But this delusion, in most cases, indicates the mournful probability, that the evil, besides having taken up its abode within them, has assumed there a form and a name so plausible, as not merely to escape detection, but even to secure to itself the credit of a virtue, and the welcome of a friend. In the eyes of the world, a man rnay acquire, and through a long life maintain, a character for liberality and spirit, while his heart all the time goeth after his covetousness. His hand, like a channel, may be ever open ; and, because his income is perpetually flowing through it, the unreflecting world, taken with appear- ances, hold him up as a pattern of generosity ; but the entire current is absorbed by his own selfishness. That others are indirectly benefited by hia profusion, does not enter into his calculations; he thinks only PRfiVALERCe Of COVeTOVSNCSS* 49 of his own gratification. It is true, his mode of living may employ others ; but he is the idol of the temple — ^they are only priests in his service 5 and the prodi- gality they are empowered to indulge in, is only intended to decorate and do honor to his altar. To maintain an extensive establishment, to carry it high before the world, to settle his children respectably in life, to maintain a system of costly self-indulgence,— these are the objects which swallow up all his gains, and keep him in a constant fever of ill-concealed anxiety ; filling his heart with envy and covetousness at the sight of others' prosperity ; rendering him loath to part with a fraction of his property to benevolent purposes ; making him feel as if every farthing of his money so employed, were a diversion of that farthing from the great ends of life ; and causing him even to begrudge the hallowed hours of the Sabbath, as so much time lost (if, indeed, he allows it to be lost) to the cause of gain. New channels of benevolence may open around him in all directions ; but as far as he is concerned, those channels must remain dry ; for, like the sands of the desert, he absorbs all the bounty which Heaven rains on him, and still craves for more. What but this is commonly meant by the expression concerning such a man, that " he is living up to his income?" The undisguised interpretation is, that he is engrossing to himself all that benevolence which should be diffused throughout the world ; that he is appropriating all that portion of the divine bounty with which he has been intrusted, and which he ought to •hare with the rest of mankind ; and that he is thu» u PREVALENCS OP COV£tO08 JtlSS. disabling himself for all the calls and claims of CbHs- tian charity. Alas! that so large a proportion of professing Christians should be, at this moment, Bystematically incapacitating themselves for any thing more than scanty driblets of charity, by their unneces- sary expenditure, their extravagant self-indulgence. Where avarice, or hoarding, has slain its thousands, a lavish profusion has slain its tens of thousands ; and where the former robs the cause of God of a mite, the latter robs it of a million. A man may d^fy a charge of avarice, in the aggra- vated sense of that teiTii, to be substantiated against him. Indeed, a miser in the sense in which the character was ordinarily portrayed, is a most unusual prodigy, a monster rarely found but in description. " His life is one long sigh for wealth : he would coin his life-blood into gold: he would sell hia soul for gain." Now, the injurious effect of such exaggerated representations is, men, conscious that their parsimony does not resemble such a character, acquit themselves of the charge of covetousness altogether. Unable to recognise in this disguised and distorted picture of the vice their own liiieness, they flatter themselves into a belief of their entire innocence, as if the vice admitted of no degrees, and none were guilty if not as guilty as possible. But, though a man may not merit to be denominated avaricious, he may yet be parsimonious. He may not be a Dead Sea, ever receiving, and never imparting ; but yet he may be as unlike the Nile, when, overflow- ing its banks, it leaves a rich deposit on the neighboring f PREVALENCE OF COVETOU8NE8S. 45 lands. His domestic economy is a system of penuri- ousness, hateful to servants, visitors, and friends ; from which every thing generous has fled, and in which even every thing necessary comes with the air of being begrudged, of existing only by sufferance. In his dealing with others, he seems to act under the impres- sion that mankind have conspired to defraud him, and the consequence is, that his conduct often amounts to a constructive fraud on mankind. He is delighted at the idea of saving, and exults at the acquisition of a little pelf with a joy strikingly disproportionate to its woriu. He looks on every thing given to charity, as BO much lost, thrown away, and for which there will never be any return. If a benevolent appeal surprise him into an act of unusual liberality, he takes ample revenge by keen self-reproaches, and a determination to steel himself against all such assaults in future. Or else, in his relenting moments, and happier moods, he plumes himself, and looks as complacently on himself for having bestowed a benevolent mite, as if he had performed an act of piety, for which nothing less than heaven would be an adequate reward. His soul not only never expands to the warmth of benevolence, but contracts at the bare proposal, the most distant pros- pect, of sacrifice. His presence in any society met for a charitable purpose would be felt like the vicinity of an iceberg, freezing the atmosphere, and repressing the warm and flowing current of benevolence. The eloquent think it a triumph to have pleaded the cause of mercy before him unabashed ; and the benevolent Are satisfied if they can only bring away their sacre^ 1 46 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNE88. fire undamped from his presence. He scowls at every benevolent project as romantic, as suited to the meridian of Utopia, to a very different state of things from what is known in this world. He hears of the time when the church will make, and will be necessi- tated to make, far greater sacrifices than at present, with conscious uneasiness, or resolved incredulity. His life is an economy of petty avarice, constructed on tlic principle of parting with as little as possible, and getting as much, — a constant warfare against bene- volence. But a person may be free from the charge of parsi- mony, and yet open to the accusation of worldliness. His covetousness may not be so determined as to distinguish him from the multitude, but yet sufficiently marked to show that his treasure is not in heaven. He was born with the world in his heart, and nothing has yet expelled it. He may regularly receive the seed of the gospel, but the soil is pre-occupied ; " the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and render it unfruitful." He will listen to an ordinary exposition of the vanity of wealth as a matter of course, and will appear to give it his entire assent ; and yet, immediately after, he resumes his pursuit of that vanity with an avidity which seems increased by the temporary interruption. But let the exposition be more than usually vivid, let it aim at awakening his conviction of the dangers attending wealth, let it set forth the general preferableness of competence to affluence, and it will be found to be disturbing the settled order of his sentiments. A i PRfiVALSNCB OF COVETOUSNESfl. 47 /epresentation of the snares of wealth, is regarded by him as the empty declamation of a man who has been made splenetic by disappointments, or who has been soured by losses ; who has never known the sweets of wealth, or, having known, has lost them, and would gladly recover them again if he could. He never listens to such representations as — that unsanc-* tified riches are only the means of purchasing disappointment ; that the possessor suffers rather than enjoys them ; that his wants multiply faster than his means — without an inward smile of scepticism, a conscious feeling of incredulity ; a feeling which, if put into words, would express itself thus : " O, if I might be but made rich, I would make myself happy. Tell me not of dangers : cheerfully would I risk them all, only bless me with wealth." And his life is arranged, and spent, in strict accordance with this confession. In his vocabulary, wealth means happi' ness — the chief good. And in his reading of the Holy Scripture, the declaration of our Lord is reversed, as if he had said — A man's life consisteth in the abundance of the things which he possesseth. And this representation, be it observed, applies to the man whose ideas of wealth are limited to a few hundreds, as much as to him whose wishes aspire to hundreds of thousands. The poor man is apt to imagine that covetousness is a subject in which he has no interest — that it is a sin peculiar to the rich. It is true, indeed, that he may not plan for riches, because he may not be able to plan much for any thing ; calculation is out of his spbejre — ^it requires too \\ '} i II'' i 48 PRfiVALBIftiK OP CoVETOUfiNCSSi i tnueh thought for him. And it is true, also, that thA prosperous are more liable to indulge cupidity than the poor ; for if it cannot be said with confidence that poverty starves the propensity, it may certainly be affirmed that prosperity feeds it ; often awakening it at first from its dormant slate, and turning every subse- quent instance of gain into a meal to gratify iti voracious appetite. But there is no sphere so humble and contracted as to secure a man against its intrusion. Like a certain - class of plants, it seems only to ask for room, though it should be on a rock, and for the common air, in order to thrive. The man who flatters himself that he has "retired from the world," may still be carrying this abridgement of the world's influence about with him in his heart ; and by artfully soliciting the poor man under the disguise of industry, of frugality, or of providing for his family, it may have yoked him as a captive to its car, though he may appear to be only keeping poverty at bay. He need not plunge into the ocean in order to drown himself — a very shallow stream will suffice, if he chooses to lie prostrate in it ; and the desire of the smallest gain, if his heart bs immersed in the pursuit, will as certainly "drown him in perdition," as if the object of his cupidity were the wealth of a Croesus. He takes his character, and incurs his danger, not from the magnitude of his object, but from the unceasing and undivided manner in which he pursues it. Though his worldliness may b« quiet and equable in its operation, yet, like an ever- flowing stream, it gradually wears his whole soul into 1»R£VALI:NCC 0? roVSTOUSNBSS. 49 •one channel, which drains oflf his thoughts and afiec- ■tions from higher ground, and carries them all in a steady current in that single direction ; while his occa£*ional impressions of a religious nature only ripple its surface for a moment, and vanish, without in the least retar«^ing its onward course. But to specify all the forms af covetousness, and to trace it in all ih modifications, is impossible. Capa- ble of combining with all motives, and penetrating all actions in its symptoms or its practice, it is every where to be found. It acknowledges no conqueror but the grace of God, and owns no limit but that of the world. Our great epic poet, with equal sublimity and propriety, gives to it an existence even beyond this world. Recording the history of Mammon — the Scrip- ture personification of cupidity — he describes him as " the least erected spirit that fell From heaven : for even in heaven his looks and thoughts Were al\va>3 downward bent ; admiring more The riches of lieaven's pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else, enjoyed In vision beatific." The moral of which is, that covetousness is one of the eldest-born of sin, and a prime leader in the Satanic empire of evil ; that no nature is too lofty, no place too sacred, for its presence ; that being a universal passion, no enterprise is too daring for it to attempt, no sphere too extended for its range. One of the great objects of the personal ministry of our Lord himself, appears to have been to make us aware of the universality of this passion, and to save us from it. Sin having escpelled the love of God from i H :c^& v*:n "' ■.11 W I>RBVALEirCB Of COV£TOU8ASS8« the hearty he 8av\r that the love of the world had rushed in to fill up the vacuum j that the desire of riches, as an abstract of all other worldly desires, has become a universal passion, in which all other appe- tites and passions concur, since it is the readiest means to gratify them all. To the eye of an ordinary observer, the generation of that day appeared to be only laudably employed in their respective avocations ; but, penetrating the thin disguises of custom, he beheld the world converted into a mart in which every thing was exposed for sale. To a common observer, the confused pursuits and complicated passions of mankind might have presetited an aspect of ever-shifting forms, as incapable of classification as the waves of the sea j but to his comprehensive view there apper.red but two great classes, in which all minor distinctions were merged — the servants of God, and the servants of Mammon. To his unerring and omniscient glance, the whole world appeared to be engrossed in a labori- ous experiment to effect a compromise between these two claimants : but against such an accommodation he enters his divine protest ; affirming, with the solemnity and confidence of one who knew that though the experiment had been made, and repeated in every form and in every age, it had failed as often as it had been made, and will prove eternally impracticable, "Ye cannot serve God and mammon." To an ordi- nary observer, the charge of covetousness could only be alleged against a few individuals; but he tracked it through the most unsuspected windings, laid open some of its most concealed operations, and showed i 'IP PREVALENCE 07 COVETOUfNESS. 5i that, like the elemental fire, it is not only present where it is grossly visible, but that it is all-pervading, and co-extensive with human depravity. Entering the mart of the busy world, where nothing is heard but the monotonous hum of the traders in vanity, he lifts up his voice like the trump of God, and seeks to break the spell which infatuates them, while he exclaims, " What shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soull or, what shall a man give in exchange for his soul 1" Pro- ceeding to ^.he mansion of Di/es, he shows selfishness there, clothed in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day, — a spectacle at which the multitude stands in earnest and admiring gaze, as if it drew in happiness at the sight, — but Lazanis unheeded perishes at the gate. Approaching the house of prosperity, he bids us listen to the soliloquy of its worldly inhabitant, " I will pull down my barns, and will build greater" — a resolution which the world applauds — " And I will say to my soul. Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry" — a prospect of happi- ness which the world envies: but God is not in all his thoughts ; besides his wealth he knows no god. Passing into the circle of devotion, he pointed out the principle of covetousness there, mingling in the worship of God, choking the word, and rendering it unfruitful. Penetrating the heart, he unveiled its hateful presence there, as the leaven of hypocrisy, and the seed of theft. And can we wonder at the energy and frequency 52 PREVALENCE 07 CO VETO US9f ESr^ with which he denounced it, when we remember how- frequently it came into direct personal contact with himself, defeating his tenderest soMcitudesy and jobbing him of souls he yearned to save ? It was covetousness which rendered unf^-uitful so large a propoftion of that heavenly seed which he had cone to sow. It was' this which begrudged him the anointing for his burial. It was this which robbed his kingdom of a subjecty just at the moment when " the young man" appeared to be about to fall into his train, and which drew from him the affecting exclamation, *• How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven !" This it was which left the gospel feast so thinly attended, and which sent excuses instead of guests. His audience commonly consisted of " the Pharisees who were covetous, and derided him."^ Wherever he looked, he beheld the principle in active, manifold, ruinous operation j " devouring widows* houses," drinking orphans' tears, luxuriating in the spoils of defenceless childhood and innocence. Did he turn from this sickening spectacle, and seek relief in the temple? there he beheld nothing but a den o? thieves. Mammon was there enshrined ; the solemn passover itself turned into gain ; the priests trafficking in the blood of human souls. Like their forefathers, " from the least of them even to the greatest of them, every one was given to covetousness." But the last triumph of covetousness remained yelr to be achieved. To have sold the temple for money would have been an act of daring impiety ; to make it the place of merchandise wae^ perhaps,, still wocsei i IPREVALBNCS OF COVKTOUBRBSB. i I — ^it was adding sacrilege to impiety. Only' one deed more remained to be perpetrated, and covetousneas might4hen rest satisfied. There was one greater than the temple. God so loved the world, that he had sent his only begotten Son to redeem it — might not he be sold ? Covetousness, in the person of Judas, looked on him, eyed him askance, and went to the traffickers in blood, and, for the charm of thirty pieces of silver, betrayed him, — a type of the manner in which the cause of mercy would be betrayed in every succeeding age. Yes, in the conduct of Judas, (the incarnation of cupidity,) towards Jesus Christ, (the incarnation of benevolence,) ve may behold ah intimation of the quarter from which, in all succeeding times, the greatest danger would arise to the cause of Christ. The scene of the Saviour's betrayal for money was an affecting rehearEnl, a prophetic warning, of the treatment which his gospel might expect to the end of the world. And have events falsified the prediction ? Let the history of the corruptions of Christianity testify. The spirit of gain deserted the Jewish temple, only to take up its abode in the Christian church. Having sold the Saviour to the cross, it proceeded, in a sense, to sell the cross itself. We allude not to the venality of selling " the wood of the true cross," — that was only a diminutive of that accursed lust of gain which "thought the gift of God might be purchased with money," and which literally placed the great blessings of the cross at sale. Gradually, every thing became a source of gain. Not a single innovation, or rite, was introduced, which bad not a relation to gain. Nations f2 9ii PREVALENCE OF C0VET0U8NESS^, were laid under tribute. Every ehrine had its gift? ^ every confession its cost; every prayer its charge? every benediction its price. Dispensation from duty and indulgence in sin, were both attainable at the sum set down. Liberation from hell, and admission into heaven, were both subject to money. And, not con- tent with following its victims into the invisible state, Covetousness even there created a third world, for the purpose of assessing its tortured inhabitants. Thus the religion whose blessings were intended to be without money, and without price, became the tax and burden of the world, a proverb for extortion and rapine, till the wealth which the church had drained from a thousand states, " turned to poison in ita bosom," and mankind arose to east it from them as a bloated corruption and a curse. The truth is, covetousness is native to our fallen nature ; and, unless religion vanquish it, in its indis- criminate ravages, it will vanquish religion. Other forms of selfishness are partial in their operation, being either confined to a party, or, at most, to an order of character ; but covetousness is the sin of humanity ; it is the name of a disease which knows no distinction of class or party — the epidemic malady of our race. Gold is the only power which receives universal homage. It is worshipped in all lands without a single temple, and by all classes without a single hypocrite; and often has it been able to boast of having armies for its priesthood, and hetacombs of human victims for its sacrifices. Where war has slain its thousands, gain has slaugho^red its millions ; PRCTALENCC OF COVETOUSNKSS. 53 v.. 4 # » for) while the former operates only with the local and fitful terrors of an earthquake, the destructive influence of the latter is universal and unceasing. Indeed, war itself — what has it often been but the art of gain practised on the largest scale ? the covetousness of a nation resolved on gain, impatient of delay, and leading on its subjects to deeds of rapine and blood ? Its history is the history of slavery and oppression in all ages. For centuries, Africa — one quarter of the globe — has been set apart to supply the monster with victims — thousands at a meal. And at this moment, what a populous and gigantic empire can it boast ? the mine with its unnatural drudgery ; the manufactory, with its forms of squalid misery ; the plantation, with its imbruted gangs ; and the market and the exchange, with their furrowed and care-worn countenances, — these are only specimens of its more menial offices and subjects. Titles and honors are among its rewards, and thrones at its disposal. Among its counsellors are kings, and many of the great and mighty of the earth enrolled among its subjects. Where are the waters not ploughed by its navies ? What imperial element is not yoked to its car ? Philosophy itself has become a mercenary in its pay ; and science, a votary at its shrine, brings all its noblest discoveries, as offer- ings to its feet. What part of the globe's surface Is not rapidly yielding up its last stores of hidden trea- sure to the spirit of gain ? or retains more than a few miles of unexplored and unvanquished territory? Scorning the childish dream of the philosopher's stone, it aspires to turn the globe itself into gold. I '.^ i '41 56 "I ' SECTION IV. THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OP C0VET0USNE8S IN BRITAIN. This is a subject in which the Christians of Britain have more than an ordinary interest* For, though no part of the world is exempt from the influence of covetousness, a commercial nation, like Britain, is more liable to its debasement than any other. Were it not indigenous to the human heart, here it would surely have been born ; for here are assembled all the fermenting elements, favourable to its spontaneous generation : or, were it to be driven from every other land, here it would find sanctuary in a thousand places open to receive it. Not only does it exist among us, it is honoured, worshipped, deified. Alas! it has — without a figure — its priests ; its appropriate temples — earthly " hells :" its ceremonial ; its ever-burning fires, fed with precious things which ought to be oflTered as incense to God ; and, for its sacrifices, immoiial souls. Every nation has its idol: in some countries that idol is pleasure ; in others, glory ; in others, liberty ; but the name of our idol is Mammon. The shrines of the others, indeed, are not neglected, but it must be conceded that money is the mightiest of all our idol- gods. And not only does this fact distinguish us froin most other nations, it distinguishes our present from our \ COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 57 former selves — it is the brand-mark of the present age. For, if it be true, that each successive age has \X» representative j that it beholds itself reflected in some leading school, and impresses its image on the philoso- phy of the day, where shall we look for the image of the existing age but in our systems of political economv ? " Men who would formerlv have devoted their lives to metaphysical and moral research, are now given up to a more material study" — to the theory of rents, and the philosophy of the mart. Morality itself is allowed to employ no standard but that of utility ; to enforce her requirements by no plea but expediency, a consitleration of profit and loss. And even the science of metaphysics is wavering, if it hay not actually pronounced, in favour of a maleriali^:ni which would subject the gieat mysteries of humanity to mathematical admeasurement, and chemical ana- lysis. Mammon is marching through the land in triumph ; and it is to be feared that a large majority of all classes have devoted and degraded themselves to the office of his train-bearers. Statements like these mav startle the reader who now reflects on the subject for the first time. But let Idm be assured "as the first impression which the foreigner receives on entering England is that of the evidence of wealth, so the firet thing which strikes an inquirer into our social system is the absorbing respect in which wealth is held. The root of all our laws is to be found in the sentiment o( property ;" and this sentiment, right in itself, has, by excess, infected with an all-pervading taint, our politics, our systems of THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 11 >«• education, the distribution of honors, the popular notions — nay, it has penetrated our language, and even intruded into the sacred enclosures of religion. This is a truth, obvious, not merely to the foreigner to whom it is a comparative novelty, the taint is acknowledged and deplored even by those who have become accli- mated and inured to it. Not merely does the divine protest against it;* the man of the world joins him ; for it is felt to be a common cause. The legislator complains that governments are getting to be little better than political establishments to furnish facilities for the accumulation of wealth. The philanthropist complains that generous motives are lost sight of in the prevailing desire of gain ; so that he who evinces a disposition to disinterested benevolence is either dis- trusted as a hypocrite, or derided as a fool. The moralist complains that "commerce has kindled in the nation a universal emulation for wealth, and that money receives all the honours which are the proper right of knowledge and virtue." The candidate for worldly advancement and honour protests against the arrangement which makes promotion a matter of pur- chase, thus disparaging and discouraging all worth save t'aU of wealth. The poet laments that "the worl J is too much with us ;" that " all things are sold ;" that every thing is made a marketable commo- dity, and " labelled with its price." The student of * Hi» complaint mi? for resources in daring pecuniary :jpeculations. Indus- try is too slow and plodding for it. Accordingly, this is the age of reckless adventure. The spirit of the lottery is still upon us. " Sink or swim," is the motto of nuijibers who arc ready to stake their fortune on a speculation ; and evil indeed must be that project, and perilous in the extreme must be that scheme, which they would hesitate to adopt, if it held out the remotest prospect of gain. The writer is quite aware and free to admit, that we are, from circumstances — and long may we be — an active, industrious, trading people. Much of our distinctive greatnee as a nation is owing to this fact. Nor is he insensible to the numerous claims of the present age to be called the age of benevolence. Both these facts, however, he regards as quite compatible with his present allegations. For the truth appears to be, that, much as the benevolence of the age has increased, the spirit of trade has increased still more ; that it has far outstript the spirit of benevolence ; so that, while the spirit of benevolence has increased absolutely, yet relatively it may be said to have * Wilberforce on Practical Christianity. i»»* It THS PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF declined, to have lost ground to the spirit of trade, and to be tainted and oppressed by its influence. How large a proportion of what is cast into the Christian treasury must be regarded merely as a kind of quit-rent paid to the cause of benevolence by the spirit of trade, that it might be left free to devote itself to the absorbing claims of the world. How small a proportion of it \» subtracted from the vanities and indulgences of life ; how very little of it results from a settled plan of bene- volence, or from that self-denial, without which, on Christian principles, there is no benevolence ! Never, perhaps, was self-denial a rarer virtue than in the present age. , Again : what is the testimony of those in our most, popular schools who educate our youth 1 — that "there is a prevailing indifference to that class of sciences, the knowledge of which is not profitable to the pos- sessor in a pecuniary point of view," — that the only learning in request is that which teaches the art of making money. The man of ancestral rank com- plains, that even respect for birth is yielding to the mercenary claim of riches. Such is the all-transform- ing power of cupidity, that business the most oppressive is pursued with all the zest of an amusement, while amusement, intended to be a discharge from business, is laboriously cultivated by thousands as a soil lor profitable speculation and golden fruit. Perhaps the greatest triumph which the lust of lucre has achieved, next to its presence in the temple of God, is the effectual manner in which it has converted the princi- pal amusements of the nation into so vast and com- C0VET0USNE8S IN BRITAIN. 63 ]>licated a system of gambling, that, to master it, demands all the studious application of a profound Ncience. Looking at the universal influence which wealth has obtained over every institution, and every grade of the social system, what more is wanting to itiduce the many to believe, as sober truth, the ironical definition of the satirist, that " Worth means wealth — and wisdom, the art of acquiring it ? " ••' Whatever men are taught highly to respect, £Tradu.'illy acquires the rank of a virtue." Well, therefore, has it been said, by a master of philosophy, that " the honors of a state direct the esteem of a j)eopIe j and that, according to the esteem of a })eople, is the s^eneral direction of mental energy and genius." Tiie consequence of affixing the highest worldly reward to wealth, is, that to be rich, is accounted a merit, and to be poor an offence. Nor is this the worst : a false standard of n^orality is thus created, by wliich it is made of less consequence to be wise and virtuous, than to be rich. The appalling degree to which such a standard has obtained among us may be inferred from the manner in which it has imprinted itself on our language. It is true that many of the terms and phrases alluded to, may sometimes be employed with an exclusive refer- ence to property, and quite irrespective of moral worth. They are, however, idioms of the language, and as sucli would soon give rise to the debasing associations in question, even if those associations did not exist before. But the tones in which they are commonly uttered, and the emotions of admiration or 64 THE PRESENT PREDOMINAITCE OF \\ contempt with which thev are accompanied, abun- dantly testify that such associations already exist. Justly has a foreign writer observed, for instance, that " the supreme influence of wealth, in this country, may be judged of by the simple phrase, that a man is said to be worth so much,^^ — worth just so much as liius monev amounts to, and no more. " Poor creature I" is an exclamation as frequently uttered to exprest* contempt as pity, jind may indicate that the object of it unites in himself all kinds of wretchedness, and iimny degrees of guilt. How constantly are indi\iduab and families pronounced respectable — that is the favorite pass-word into society — when, if reference were had to their character, to any thing but their wealth, they would be found entitled to any thing but respect. What is ordinarily understood by good society ? Certainly the exclusion of nothing bad but poverty : it may exclude every one of the virtues, provided there be a sufficiency of wealth. And when we speak of making a meeting or a society select, who thiiiks of employing any other process, if money be the means of admission, than that of raising the price, and thus erecting a test of wealth ? We find ourselves in a world where a thousand conflicting objects propose themselves to our attention, each claiming to deserve our supreme regard; but who thinks of disturbing the ratified decision of generations, that, of all these objects, money is the main chance ? Whatever attainments a man may be mrrking in other respects, yet, as if wealth were the only prize worth contending for in the race of life, he only is said to be getting on '■'a If C0VET0USNI8S IN BRITAIN. 65 in the world who is increasing his property. The term gain is not applied to knowledge, virtue, or happiness: it is reserved solely to mark pecuniary acquisitions ; it is synonymous with gold, as if nothing but gold were gain, and every thing else were compa- rative loss. And the man whose gains are known to be rapidly increasing, is not only spoken of by the multitude, under their breath, with marked veneration and awe, but, as if he more nearly approached the creative power than any other human being, he is said to be making money ; — and having said that, eulogy is exhausted, — he is considered to be crowned with praise. Could we ascertain the entire amount of national excitement and emotion experienced in the course of a year, and could we then distribute it into classes, assigning each respectively to its own exciting cause, who can for a moment doubt that the amount of excitement arising from the influence and operation of money, direct and indirect, would not only exceed that of either of the others, separately considered, but would go near to sui*pass them all together? And wiien it is remembered that this cause is always in operation j that it has acquired a character of perma- nence ; that our life is spent under the reign of wealth ; how can it be otherwise than that we should become its subjects, if not even its slaves 1 When, year after year, the assembled wisdom of the nation is employed for months, discussing, in the hearing of the nation, questions of cost and finance, trying the merit of every proposition by a standard of profit and loss, and thus 5 -^ i.M 66 THH PRESENT PRSDOMUfANCE 0? virtually converting the throne of legislation into a table of exchange, it can only follow, that the same standard will be generally adopted in private life to try individual questions. If the body politic be ao con* stituted that the Exchange is its heart, then every particular pulse in the community will aim to find its health, by beating in unison with it. Thus the spirit of gain, which in most countries i» only one power amongst many, may here be said to be tutelary and supreme; and the love of money, Ironi being an occasional pursuit, becomes, in innumerable instances, a rooted and prevailing passion. Nor is it possible for piety itself to escape tiie infection. To live here, is to live in the Temple of Mammon ; and it is impossible to see the god worshipped daily, to l)ehold the reverence of the multitude, to stand in the presence of the idol, without catching the contagion of awe, and yielding to the sorcery of wealth. Are our religious assemblies exempt from the debasing influence ? " My brethren," said the Apos- tle James, <' have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of persons. For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; and ye have respect unto Hint that wearcth the gay clothing, and say unto him. Sit thou here in a good place ; and say to the poor. Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool : are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?'' The apostle is deprecating that homage to wealth which implies that it is honorable C0VET0USNE8S IN BRITAIN. W ■ for its own sake alone, and that poverty is disgraceful, however borne ; a homage which, while it is sinful every where, cannot be practised in the sanctuary without oflfering peculiar insult to the throne of God. But did not the apostle draw this picture prophetically of the present dayl Could he now witness, says Scott, in his comment on this scripture, what takes place generally in this matter, and give his opinion of it, would he not repeat the censure that we are influenced by corrupt reasonings and erroneous calcu- lations? and utter it in words even more severe? And would he not find, it may be added, that the influence of wealth has penetrated deeper still ? that it not only sits in the presence of God while poverty stands, but that it often rules there while poverty serves ; that in that sacred enclosure, where men should take rank only by superiority of spiritual excellence, wealth, in many instances, lords it over character, and reigns with a sway as undisputed as it exercises in the world ? Has the management of our benevolent societies escaped the prevailing evil ? The guardians of the funds of benevolence, indeed, cannot too carefully protect them from exorbitant charges, and a wasteful expenditure ; but, at the same time, they are not, under the plea of economy, to refuse to the tradesman a remunerating profit. Yet tradesmen are occasionally heard to complain that such is the fact ; that the grinding system of some of our religious committees leaves them to do business for nothing. Besides which, is there not, in many instances, too much 1 ■ 68 THE PRfiSENT PREDOMINANCE OF i reliance placed on the efficacy of money for tiie accomplishment of religious objects? too much defer- ence paid to wealth in the selection of chairmen, officers, and members 1 too evident a disposition to estimate the prosperity of an institution by the amount of its funds ? too much of a pecuniary rivalry with kindred institutions 1 and too little delicacy about the means employed to swell the funds, provided only the increase take place ? Is it not equally true of the institution that " maketh haste to be rich," as of the man, that it " cannot be innocent 1 " Are our public meetinfrs of benevolence free from the taint ? Is there nothing questionable in the way in which money is raised on those occasions ? nothing of a worldly mechanism for raising benevolence to the giving point? nothing of the anxiety of a pecuniary adventure felt,' by those most deeply interested, at the commencement of a meeting? and, as the pecuniary experiment proceeds, is not that anxiety increased as to how the speculation will succeed ? Are there not occasions when our platforms exhibit a scene *.oo much resembling a bidding for notice ? — The writer feels that he is treading on delicate ground ; nor has he advanced thus far on it without trembling. He is fully aware that many of those scenes to which he alludes have originated spontaneously, unexpectedly, and from pure Christian impulse: — would that the number of such were increased ! He does not forget that some of the agents of benevolence who are most active in promoting a repetition of such scenes, are among the excellent of the earth. He bears in mind. f COVETOUSNESS JIN BRITAIN. . too, that among those whose ndnnes are proclaimed as lienors on such occasions are some whom It is a privilege to know ; men who give privately as well as publicly ; whose ordinary charity is single-handed. And he feels convinced that the ruling motive of all, is, to enlarge the sphere of Christian beneficence to the glory of the grace of God. Nor can he be insensible to the unkind construction to which these remarks, however humblv submitted, are liable to expose him ; or to the avidity vvitli which the captious and the covetous will seize and turn them to their own unhallowed account ; or lo the force of the plea that the best things are open to abuse, and that it is easy to raise objections against the purest methods and means of benevolence. Still, however, he feels hiTn^^elf justified in respectfully sub- mitting to the Cbristlan consideration of those mo.l from tlie very fact, that its contributions to the cause of mercy are annually increasing. For it proves, either that, having reached the standard mark of liberality, we are now yearly exceeding it, or else that, witli slow and laborious steps, wo are only as yet advancing towards it. If the latter — does not the increase of every present year cast a rejiroach back on t]i«> comparative parsimony of every past year? Will not the augmented liberality of next year reproach the niggardliness of this ? '*:#»>. t-—. 71 SECTION V. THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. Easy as it is, however, to demonstrate the pre- valence of covetousness, — to convict the individual conscience of the evil, to bring home the charge personally so as to produce self-accusation, is one ol' the last efforts in which we hope for success. Men lliink not of covetousness, and of themselves, at the same time. He who cat» decide, with equal facility and precision, the exact point at which cupidity begins in another, no sooner finds the same test about to be applied to himself than he discovers ii number of exceptions, which render the standard totally inappli- cable. It was remarked by St. Francis de Sales, who was greatly resorted lo in his day as a confessor, that none confess the sin of covetousness. And he who " knew what was in man," sought to alarm our vigilance, by saying of this sin what he said so emphatically of no other, " Take heed, and beware of it." It is true of every passion, that it has an established method of justifying itself; but of covetousness it may be said that all the passions awake to justify it ; they all espouse its cause, and draw in its defence, for it panders to them all : ** Money answereth all ends." The very prevalence of the evil forms its most powerful protection and plea ; for '« the multilud<' 1 1 1 'S ;i i H i/ ^ t f » I 8 72 THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. never bluph.'' We might have supposed that its prevalence would have facilitated its detection and exposure in individual cases ; but owing to its very prevalence it is that so few are conscious of it. We keep each other in countenance. Having been born in the climate, we are not aware of any thing pernicious in it. The guilt of this, as of every other sin, is measured by a graduated scale ; and as all around us indulge in it up to a certain point of the scale, it is only from ihat point we allow covetousness begins ; we begin to reckon guilt only from that point. Indignation is reserved till that point is passed, and the passion has become monstrous and extreme. Because we are not a community of Trumans, Elvves, and Dancers, we exchange looks of congratulation, and flatter ourselves that we are innocent. The very resentment which we let loose on such personifications of the vice, seem to discharge us from all suspicion, and to grant us a fresh 'dispensation to indulge in the quiet of ordinary covetousness. Yet, ofteii, it is to be feared, that very resentment is the mero otfspring of jealousy ; like the anger awakened in a community of the dishonest, at finding that one of their number has violated the rules of the body, by secreting more than his share of the booty. But that which constitutes the strength of covetous- ness, is, its power to assume the appearance of virtue : like ancient armour, it is at once protection and dis- guise. " No advocate will venture to defend it under its own proper character. Avarice takes the license used by other felons, and, by ;iie adoption of an aliaSy TH&. V1SGl}n£S OF COVETOUSNESS. 73 escapes the reprobation attached to its own name." * In the vocabulary of covetousness, worldliness mean?; 'industry i though it is obvious to every Christian 4}bserver, that the pretended industry ot* many a religi- ous professor is (he destruction of his piety, am) wiil -eventually form the ground of his condemnation. Idleness is his pretended aversion. His time, his strength, iiis solicitudes, are all drained ofT in th*^ ^service of Mammon ; while nothing is left for religion but a faint sigh, a hurried heartless prayer, and nn occasional struggle so impotent as to invi^ defeat. »' But Providence," he pleads, << has actually filled his hands with business without his seeking^ arul would it not be ungrateful to lose it by neglect? '* Bui have you never heard, we might reply, that God 'Sometimes tries his people, to see whether they will keep his commandments or not ? and may he not be now proving how far the verdure of your piety car. ■resist the exhaling and scorching sun of prosperity ? Besides, is it supposable that God intended you to interpret his grant of worldly prosperity into a dischargt* from his service, and a commission in the service of Mammon 1 And, more than all, significantly as you may think hi.s providence invites you to labour for tin* bread tliat perisheth, does not his gospel, his Son, your Lord and Redeemer, call you a thousand-fold more emphatically to labor for the meat which enduretli tmto eternal life? You jnay be misinterpreting the voice of his providence ; the voice of his gospel you •cannot misunderstand; it is distinct, imperative, and * • Mri.More. H * • 1 i i ' : I f ' 'I 1( 7* THE Duoonu ot comovtHit*. h h 1*^ ''I incesflant ; ur^ng you daily to *^ seek finit the kingdom of God, and his righteousness." Another individual is a slave to parsimony ; but he is quite insensible to it, for the temptation solicits him under the disguise of frugality. Waste is his abhor- rence; and he knows no refuge from it but in the opposite extreme. Every new instance of impover- ished rodigality is received by him as a warning from Providence to be careful. His creed is mad ^ up of all the accredited maxims and world-honored proverbs in favor of covetousness, the authority of which he never questions, and the dexterous application of which fortifies his mind like an antidote against all the contagious attacks of charity. And thus, though ho lives in a world supported by bounty, and hopes, perhaps, to be saved at last by grace, he gives only when shame \ ill not allow him to refuse, and grudges the little which he gives. The aim. of another is evidently the accumulation of wealth; but the explanation N/hich he --ives to himself of his conduct, is, that he desires simply t(^ provide for the future. Want is his dread. And though, in his aim to avoid this evil, he may not dis- tinctly propose to himself to become rich, yet what else can result from his constantly amassing? His interpretation of competence, if candidly avowed, is affluence; a dispensation from labor for himself and family to the end of time, a discharge from future dependence on Providence, a perpetuitj'^ of ease and sloth. Till he has succeeded in reaching that enviable state, his mind is full of foreboding ; he can take no lA THB DIBGUI8£S OF COVBTOUSNfiSS. 75 thought except for the morrow. As if Providence had vacated its throne, and deserted its charge, he takes on liimself all the cares and burdens belonging to his state ; and, laden with these, he is totally disqualified for every holy duty and Christian enterprise which would take him a single step out of his way to competence. And often is he to be seen providing for the infirmities of age long after these infirmities have overtaken him, and laboring to acquire a competence up to the moment when a competence for him means only the expenses of his funeral. In the instance of a person who has attained to competence, covetousness often seeks to escape detec- tion under the name of contentment. He fancies that lie is completely vindicated from the charge of cupidity by saying, " I am quite content with what I have." But so also was that minion of wealth whom our Lord introduces with the solemn warning, "Take heed, and beware of covetousness." His contentment is only covetousness reposing self-complacently from its toils, resting on its well-filled bags, and saying, '• Soul, take thine ease." Let an agent of charity approach him with outstretched and imploring hand, and, as if touched by Ithuriel's spear, he will forthwith start into his proper character, and demonstrate that iiis contentment depends on his keeping his projierty entire ; at least, that he is not content to give. And another not only most confidently acquits himself of all suspicion of selfishness, but even appropriates the credit of being benev(^ent, on the ground of his natural sensibility. A spectacle of IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I liilM 12.5 |iO ^^ ■^■1 i»l&2 |Z2 £f U£ 12.0 u U& IliSSUi III {.6 < 6" - ► Photograjdiic Sciences Corporation 33 WBT MAIN STRUT WIBSTM.N.Y. MStO (716) t72-4S03 ^ // Z J d i i ^ fv 76: THE DISGUISES OF COV£TOU8NES8^ suflering harrows up his soul ; and therefore '^ lie passes by on the other side." An object of destitu- tion afflicts his too delicate sympathies ; and, therefore^ he closes his door against it, saying, <* Depart in peace,, be thou warmed and filled j" and leaves it in itsi destitution to perish. And thus, by belonging to the^ school of Kousseau or of Sterne, he gives himself the credit of belonging to the school ctf Christ; by paying the tax of a sigh to wretchedness, he escape* the levy of a lieavier tribute, and even purchases a character for the tenderest susceptibility. Butsensi- bHity is not benevolence ; by wasting itself on triffes, it mav render us slaves to selfishness, and unfit us for every thing but ^//-commiseration. Covetousness will sometimes indulge itself under the* pretence of preparing to retire from the cares and turmoil of active life. The propriety of an early retirement from business, must depend, of course, on circumstances. But how 'often does ^e covetousness^ which wears this mask, retain her slave in her service, even to hoary hairs, putting hir s off from time to time with delusive promises of approaching emancipation. Or else, he retires to spend, in slothful and selfish privacy, that which he had accumulated by years of parsimony. Or else, by mingling readily in scenes of gaiety and amusement, he shows that his worldly aversions related, not to the world of pleasure, but only to the world of business. Instead of fixing his abode where his pecuniary resources and Christian activity might have renidered him an extensive bless- ing, he consults only His own gratification, eslablishe» l\( THE mUGUItfiS- OF COVXTOUitfBSS. 77 hioaselfat a distance, it may be, from "the place of the altar,'' and, in a regular round of habitual indul-. gence, lives and dies an unfaithful stevvard, a sc^er sensualist, a curse rather than a blessing. , Sometimes covetousness is heard enlarging compla- cently on the necessity, and even piety, of providing for children. And here, be it remembered, we are not considering what parental duty may dictate on this subject, but only what covetousness often does under its borrowed name. Many a parent gratifies his love for money, while pretending a love for his children. The facility, too, with which he quotes certain pas- sages of Scripture, to defend the course he is pursuing^ shows how acceptable to his numerous class an argU' ment would be in favor of hoarding, since these few perverted sentences which only seem to sanction it, are his favorite and most familiar texts. Of these, his chosen strong-hold, perhaps, is the declaration of the apostle, " He that provideth not for his own, and especially for those of his own house, hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." The sacred writer, in giving directions relative to the raainteiiiahce of widows, distinguishes between such as the church should relieve, and such as should be supported by their own relatives j and concerning the .latter, he makes the statement in question. Whence it follows, first, that the provision contemplated by the apostle is not a laying up beforehand for future contingencies, but a present supply of present necessities, a simple main- tenance of needy relatives from day to day. Andj' secondly, that, instoad^ countenancing "pftrents iii^the h2 78 THl DISGUISES OF C0VET0USI7ESS. If* h u accumulation of gteat fortunes for their children) he i» speaking of the maintenance which children, if able^ te.tiould'^fford to their aged and destitute parentis. With the subject of providing far famiHeir therefore j the text in question has nothing to do. Rightly inter- pceted, we see that it enjoins, not accumviaiing ^ut giving. How humiliafting is the only explanation which can be given of the general perversion of thi? scripture, and of the pertinacity with which that per« version is retained. Let the Christian parent compare the merits of a useful education, and a qualification for business or a profession, with tne merits of that state of so-called independence in which he is- toiling to place hi» family ; and let him calll in the aid of Scripture and of prayer, that he may conduct the comparison aright, and we will not fear for the result. Let him look around his neighbourhood, and institute a comparison ^ if he can, between the apparent character ar d happi- ness of the six nearest individuals who have been left dependent, under God, on their own exertions for respectability and support, and the six who have been left independent of personal exertion, indeed, but pitiably dependent on wealth alone for happiness, and let him say which state is preferable for virtue and enjoyment. Let him say, what is to be thought of the consistency of a Christian parent, who, with our Lord's representation o{ the danger of riches ringing in his ears, goes on scheming und laboring, to leave his children rich in the element of destruction ; toiling tc place them in a condition in which, he admits, it is all TESTS OF COVCTOUINESS. 79 but impossible that they should be saved. Let him ask himself, whether such an one be not acting over again, on a smaller scale, the part of the Tempter, when he brought the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them to the Saviour's feet 1 Let him remem- ber, not only that he is to leave his children behind him in a w jrid where wealth is thought to be every thing, but that he is to meet them again in a world where it will be nothing — where it will be remem- bered only in relation to the purposes to which it has been applied. SECTION VL TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. But, the more insidious and seductive the forms of covetousness, and the greater its prevalence, the more necessary does it become to study the disease in its symptoms ; to trace it to its earliest signs, and view it in its slightest indications. In order, however, that the patient may benefit by the investigation, skill is not more indispensable in the physician, than a solicitous impartiality in himself. In vain would it be even for the great Physician to specify the various signs of this moral malady, unless those who are the subjects of it voluntarily lay bare their breasts, and anxiously leiid themselves to ascertain whether or not the plague-spot be upon them. Without this, they would close their 80 TSSTS OF CO VETOUSKfiSS. 1. eyes to the presence of ninety-nine symptoms, and accept the absence of the hundredth as a demonstration of their perfect freedom from the taint ; while, on the other hand, a tender and faithful conscience would overlook the absence of the ninety*nine, and take alarm at tlie presence of the hundredth. The absence of one or two out of numerous symptoms of a bodily disease, does not warrant us hastily to conclude that we are totally exempt from danger, and to congratulate ourselves on our escape ; for we recollect that few persons exliibit all the signs of any disease. And moral diseases, like physical, are modified by tempera- ment and circumstances; so that if some of the indications of the malady in questiqn are wanting, a little impartial examination may disclose others suffi- ciently determinate to awaken alarm, and produce humiliation. " What are those signs, then," we will suppose the reader to inquire, " what are some of those signs whose presence would indicate the existence of covetousness jn my character?" And here, reader, we would remind you that the inquiry is to be conducted under the eye Qi God ; that a consultation of physi- cians over your dying bed would not call for greater seriousness than .the present exercise; and that an appeal to Omniscience, and a prayer for seasonable grace, would not be the least favorable tokens of your earnestness and desire to be benefited. . You have seen the .prevalence of covetousness, and its power of insinuation under fistitious nan^srare you now, ^or the faai time, subitating your heait to a TSST8 OF C0VET0VSNE83. 81 thorough inspection on the subject 1 but ought not this simple fact that you are doing it now for the first time^ to excite your suspicions, and prepare you to findy that) while you have been sleeping, the enemy ha» been sowing tares in your heart? Taking it for granted that you are living in the habit of communion with God, you no doubt advert, from time to time, in the language of lamentation and confession, to various sins which have never appeared in your conduct, but which, as a common partaker of sinful humanity, you suspect to exist seminally in your heart ; — is covetousness named among them ? — ^When last did you deprecate it ? when last were you earnest in prayer for a spirit of Christian liberality? Your station, property, or mental character, invest you, it may be, with a measure of authority and influ> ence ; do you ever employ that power to oppress and to overrule right ? Are you, what the poor denomi- nate, hard'hearied ? capable of driving a hard bar^ gain? rigid and inexorable as an Egyptian task- master in your mode of conducting business? enforcing every legal claim, pressing every demand, and exacting every obligation to the extrmnest point of justice ? Are you, what is commonly denominated mean ? cutting down the enjoyments of those dependent on you to the very quick? never rewarding exertion a tittle beyond what is ^\n the bond?" doling out requital for services with so niggardly a hand, that Want alone would submit to your bondage ? Can you << go beyond, and defraud another in any -matter?'' Do not hastily resent the question; for 82 TX8TB OP COV£TOl7SNE6f . 1 only remember, first, the multiplied laws which already exist against fraud ; and the insufficiency of this vast and complicated apparatus, as implied in the con- tinued labours of the legislature to prevent, and of the executive to punish, fraud — all intimating the dreadful prevalence of the evil. Recollect, also, that no multi- plication oC laws can supply the place cf principle and integrity ; artifice would still find a way of escape through the ^neat network of human legislation. Then, again, bear in mind the grievous but acknowledged fact, that two kinds of morality obtain in life — the morality of private life, all sensitiveness, delicacy, and lionor ; and the morality of business, all secrecy in its own movements— -all vigilance respecting the move- ments of others — all suspicion of their representations — all protestation and confidence of the superior excel- lence of its own wares-— all depreciation of theirs — a morality that deems a thousand things justifiable in business, which in private life would be condemned. Now, we take it for granted that you would not violate the law ; that you would shudder at the bare shadow of dishonesty ; — but do you never avail yourself in business of the ignorance and weakness of others? Do you ever take advantage of that class of the secrc/* of ydur business, which, though deemed defensible by the world, are, to say the least, of a doubtful charac- ter? Are you satisfied with escaping, and, perhaps, barely escaping the penalty of the law? and with pleading that you are only doing as others doT and all this for the sake 0f A little paltry gain ? PrDvidMce^ pediaps, ha« asmgnsd you a »tatiioD; in TISTS OF • C0VET0U8MBSS. M$ society, which, thou^ it leaves many below you, places numbers above you. Are you content with the allotment 1 If you regard your own situation with dissatisfaction, and the superior advantages of others with envy, and speak disparagingly of their merits, and repine at your worldly circumstances, though at the same time the imperishable treasures of grace are placed within your reach, — what are you but saying, in effect, that no heavenly wealth can compensate in your esteem for the unrighteous mammon after which you pine ? We have adverted to the numerous maxims and proverbs, by the currency and frequent repetition of which the world seeks to fortify itself against the claims of benevolence, and to justify itself in its all-grasping endeavours ; — do you find these maxims occasionally falling, in self-justification, from your own lips ? He whom you acknowledge as your Lord and Master has declared that *' it is more blessed to give than to receive," — a saying which falls like a paradox, an enigma, an impossibility, on the infidel covetousness of the human heart,— do you find that your heart, when left to itself, sympathizes more cordially on this point with your Master or with the world ? The same Divine authority has pronounced it to be a characteris- tic of the pagan and ungodly world, to care for the provision of their temporal wants as solicitously as if no Providence superintended the world, no << heavenly Father," cared for them ; — do you stand apart, from the irreligious in this respect ? If their conduct proves that they have no God, does yours prove that you ^ tCSTS OF COVSTOUdNXSS. ff >'• V\ have one ? If the world coukl lay open your breasts would it not be justified in concluding that though you have a God, you cannot trust him ? that, in temporal things, you are obliged, after all, to do as they do> - rely exclusively upon yourselft And when the hour returns foe your appearance in the closet, in the sanctuary, at the post of Christian usefulness and benevolence, but returns to mourn your absence — where then are you to be searched for with the greatest likelihood of being found t At the altars of Mammon? amidst the engrossing cares and services of the world ? Does not the dread of a pet'.y loss, or the prospect of a petty gain, fill you with emotions beyond what the magnitude of either would warrant 1 And were a <;ommittee of the wisest and best of men to sit in friendly judgment on your worldly affairs, would they not be likely to pronounce that your mind might be safely discharged of all that solicitude which now disturbs it, and be led entirely free for the service of God t You confess that God may justly complain of you as slothful and unfaithful in his service ; would Mammon be justified in urging a similar complaint? or, rather, may he not boast of you as one of his most diligent and exemplary servants ? Are you providing more earnestly for the future moments of time than for the future ages of eternity 1 Are you spending life in providing the means of living, and are you thus living to no end? Are you preparing to depart? or, would death find you saying, "Soul, take thine easel" counting your gains? loath to quit your possessions? TfiftTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 85 tind ** setting your aflfections on thingo on the eariti 1^ Have you engaged in any worldly avocation or object, ^ot from necessity, but choice 1 and merely to augment your means of ostentation and indulgence 1 And are you to be found giving early notice to iho world of any 4ittle addition made to your property, by an instant addition to your establishment or expenditure 1 Were two courses -open to you, the one bright with gold, but ■beset with temptation ; the other less lucrative, but rich in religious advantages, — which would you be likely to adopt 1 Are you, at times, tempted to vow that you will 4iever give any thing more in charity 1 Instances are t»y no means of rare occurrence of imposture practised on the generous, and of kindness requited with ingrati- tude, and of benevolent funds unfaithfully adminis- tered ; and some of these painful examples may have t^ome under your own observation : — do you detect yourself, at such times, storing them up as arguments against future charity? conveying them, as weapons of defence, into the armory of covetousness, to be "forought out, and employed at the next assault upon your purse 1 When you are called to listen to a dis- tsourse on the perils attending the possession of wealth, does the seed fall into congenial soil ? or, is it neces- sary, as often as the subject is introduced, that the speaker should reproduce his *• strong arguments," in •order to reproduce full conviction in your mindl Which, think you, would make the greater demand on your patience — ^an argument to prove that you ought I ; TESTS OF COVGTOUSNBSS« ^f - to give more to the cause of benevolence? or, ah excuse and justification for giving less 1 You may sometimes find yourself passing a silent verdict of praise or blame on the pecuniary conduct of others: now, when you see an individual more than ordinarily careful of his money, do you regard him with a feeling of complacency t when you hear his conduct condemned, are you disposed to speak in his defence? or, when you see a person prodigal of his property, is your feeling that of astonishment, as if he were guilty of a sin which you could not comprehend? It is hardly possible that the temperature of benevo- lence should remain quite stationary at the same point, in any mind, for years together : now, on instituting a comparison between the past and the present, do you find that you have suffered no decrease of genuine sensibility? that you are quite as accessible to the appeals of beneficence now, as you were ten or twenty years ago, and conscious of as much pleasure in yield- ing to them ? It is highly improbable that your worldly affairs are precisely the same now as they were at that distance of time ; but, if the change has been on the side of prosperity, have the oblations which you have laid on the altar of gratitude been jnroportionally increased? or, if the change has been adverse, have your gifts been decreased only in pro- portion ? And, among your regrets at the change, are you conscious of a pang at the necessity of that decrease? It is to the honor of the present day, that the calls of benevolence multiply fast j — which, h there reason TESTS OF COVET0USNE88. 81^ , are that lo believe, you resent more, their rapid multiplication 1 or your inability to meet them all 1 But, in order to meet them, have you never thought of retrenching any superfluity ? of reducing your expenditure ? or, do you only practise that precarious and cheap benevolence, which waits for the crumbs that fall from your table? You may be scrupulously abstaining from certain worldly amusements ; but, having marked off a given space in which you do not allow yourself to range, how are you conducting yourself in that portion in which you do move 1 Are you not vying with the world in self-gratification ? thinking of little besides the multiplication of your comforts? living under the dominion of the inferior appetites'? as far removed from the salutary restraints and self-denial of the gos- pel, as from the exploded austerities of the monastic life 1 In mechanics, the strength of a moving power is estimated by the amount of resistance which it over- comes ; now, what is the strength of your benevolence when tried by a similar test ? what does it overcome 1 does it resist and bear down your vanity, love of ease, and self-interest ? does it impel you to sacrifice " the pride of life," that you may increase your contributions to the cause of mercy ? Of how many professing Christians may it not be appropriately asked, not only " How are you living, but lo/iere ? You have retired from business^ it may be ; but, in taking that step, whose will did you con- sult ? Did you refer it to the good pleasure of God ? did you retire that you might do more good than before ? and are you doing it ? did you /ooA; out for a TESTS OF CaVETOUSKESS. I I (Sphere in which you might render yourself useful? But, whether you were formerly immersed in the business of the world or not, have you escaped from a worldly spirit ? In the choice of your place of abode^ in the distribution of your time, and the formation of your plans, do you take eoimsel from the word of God 1 Are yoit acting on ti»e Christian motto,^ " No man liveth to himself t" and are you employing your various talerts as if they came to you, bearing thi» inscription, from the hand that lends them, *' Occupy till I come?" You may hear occasionally ef a munificent dona- tion made unexpectedly by Christian gratitude to the cause of God ; — what is your first emotion at the report 1 — adnuration of the act 1 and gratitude to the grace v^'hich produced it ? — or a feeling that the donor has unnecessarily exceeded the rules of ordinary benevolence ? and a disposition to impute motives of vanitv and ostentation ? If a benevolent mind had conceived some new project of mercy requiring pecu- niary support, would your presence be a congenial atmosphere for the bud to unfold in ? or, would the first emotion expressed in your countenance be a chilling doubt, or a blighting, withering frown ? True benevolence, is not only voluntary as opposed to reluctant — it is often spontaneous as opposed ta solicited ; — ^bul does yours always expect to be waited on? has it always to be reminded? does il need to be urged ? does it never anticipate tlie appeal, and run> to meet its object ? And when you do give, is it your object to part wiin as little as you can without shamo^ TESTS OF COVETOU8NES8. 89 njr^if yoii were driving a hard bargain wttfa one who sought to overreach you ? and is that little parted with reluctantly, with a half-closed hand, as if yon were discharging a doubtful debt on compulsion? Is it given with the air of a capitulation, or bribe to impor- tunity, leaving the applicant who receives it ill at ease 1 Do you think highly of the trifle you give 1 not only calculating beforehand how much you can spare, but frequently remembering it afterwards? pluming yourself on the benevolent exploit? looking out for its emblazonment in the ensuing Report? and wondering how men can deny themselves tlie luxury of doing similar good ? — then the mark of selfishness is upon you. For, only remember how cheerfully you are constantly parting with similar sums for purposes of self-indulgence, soon forgetting them, and repeatirig and forgetting them again, " thinking nothing of them." But to lay open the sin in all its disguises is impossi- ble. These arc mere hints for its detection. Owing to their deficiency, however, or to your own negli- gence in applying them, the evil sought for may stilt be undiscovered. But let nothing flatter you into the persuasion that you are exempt from it. If any believer of the Jewish church could have defied its remotest approaches, surely that saint was David ; if any description of natural character could form a guarantee against the sin, here was a man who appears to have brought with him into the world the elements of magnanimity and generosity of soul ; yet we hear him cry, in the full consciousness of danger, *< Incline my heart unto thy testimonies, and not unto i2 m TESTS OF COVSTOUSNBSff. covetousness." If any order of piety in the Christian church could have claimed entire immunity from the sin, surely it was that to which Timothy belonged. Yet we hear the apostle Paul warning even him. He had seen so many apparent proficients in piety drawn in by this moral Maelstroom, and " drowned in i)er* dition," that he called on his " dearly beloved Timothy, his own son in the faith" — called on him with more than his usual earnestness — ^to flee to the greatest distance from this fatal vortex.^ ** man of God," said he, "flee these things." As if, by a special appointment of Heaven, the monitory strain addressed to a man of God — to such a man of God — and echo- ing through the church in all ages, should make it inexcusable for all inferior piety ever to doubt its liability to the sin. Of all the myriads who have appeared on the face of the earth, Jesus Christ is the only being who was entirely free from the taint. But he was ; he embodied the very opposite principle ; he was the personification of love. This it was which constituted his fitness to wage war with selfishness, and to become the Leader of the hosts of the God of love in their conflicts with a selfish world. Had they been faithful to his cause, long ere this they would have reaped the fruits of a final and universal conquest. *< But all seek their own ; not the things which are Jesus Christ's." ^JJ»" 91 r'*':;^* SECTION VII. THE GUILT AND EVILS OP COVETOUSNESS. Op the love of money, the Apostle declares that it " is the root of all evil." Not that he meant to lay it down as a universal proposition that every act of wick- edness originates in cupidity. But that, while many other sources of sin exist, there is no description of crime which this vice has not prompted men to commit. Of the life-giving tree of prophetic /ision it is recorded, as a miracle of fertile variety, that " it bare twelve manner of fruits ;" but, as if to eclipse that heavenly wonder, here is an earthly root yielding poisons and death, at all times, and in endless variety. On no subject, perhaps, are the Scriptures more copious and minute than on the sin of covetousness. If a faithful portrait of its loathsome character can induce us to hate it ; if a sight of the virtues which it has extinguished, the vices with which it is often associated, and the depraved characters in whom it has most flourished ; if the tenderest^dissuasives from it, and the terrors of the Lord warning us against it ; if Sinai and Calvary uniting and protesting against it, — if all this combined can deter us from the sin of covet- ousness, then the Scriptures have omitted nothing which could save us from its guilty contamination. << Thou shalt not covet." Such is the language of that command which not only concludeB, but at the f n THE GUILT AND EVILS B \ same time completes, and guards, and encompasses the moral law. If love be the fulfilling of the law, it follows that the whole decalogue is to be regarded as a law against selfishness; so that every selfish and every covetous act is, in effect, an infraction of the whole law. It is to love ourselves at the expense both of God and our neighbour. Covetousness appears to have been the principal element in the first transgression. For did npt the sin consist, chiefly, in an inordinate desire for an object on which God had virtually written, " Thou shalt not covet," and which properly belonged to another ? in a disposition which originates all the acts of a grasping cupidity? It is observable that the terms in which the primary sin is described, bear a close resemblance to those in which Achan describes his covetous act. ** When I saw among the spoils," said he, " a goodly Babylonish garment, and a wedge of gold, then I coveted them and took them." "And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat." She saw, she coveted, she partook. And having entered into the composition of the first sin, and thus acquired a bad pre-eminence, it has- maintained its fatal ascendancy under, each succeed- ing dispensation of religion. Covetousnessy in the person of Lot, appears to have, been the great sin of the patriarchal dispenaation. The hope of iricrQasing his wealth allyrfad him. fiist to pitch his tent near Sodom, and at length prevailed OF C0VET0U8NS88. 99 !8es on him to enter the city, and to breathe its pestilential atmuBphere ; in consequence of which he became fiubsequentiy involved in acts so grossly sinful, that all the imperfections of the other patriarchs combined together, seem insignificant compared with it; nor should we probably have supposed that he was a subject of piety, had not the Bible assured us of the fact. In the instance of Achan, to which we have just alluded, covetousness was the first sin of the Israelites under their new dispensation in Canaan. It violated an express command; brought defeat on the arms of Israel, and triumph to their foes. What was the first sin of the Christian church ? it was covetousness in the instance of Ananias and Sapphira. It was covetousness which first interrupted the joy, and stained the virgin glory, of the present dispensation. And, presently, we shall see that it will take a leading part in the fearful drama of the final apostacy. The Scriptures exhibit covetousness as pervading all classes of mankind. They describe it as having thrown the world generally into a state of infidel distrust of the Divine Providence, and of dissatisfaction with the divine allotments. "For after all these things," saith Christ, "do the Gentiles seek." They seek after worldly objects as independently and intently as if there were no providence to care for them, no God to be consulted. They pursue them to the entire neglect of every higher object. Sometimes covetousness has been seen actuating and debai^ing the » 94t THE GUILT AND EVILS i character oC an entire people. Against the Israelites it is alleged, " From the least of them even unto the greatest of them, every one is given to covetousness." Of Tyre it is said, "By thy great wisdom and by thy trattic hast thou increased thy riches, and thine heart is lifted up because of thy riches .... thou hast set thine heart as the heart of God." And of Chaldea it is said, " Wo to him that coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that he may set his nest on high, that he may be delivered from the power of evil." The insatiable desires, or the continued prosperity and boundless possessions of these nations had left nothing in (he national character but rapacity, arrogance, and a proud impiety which braved the very thi'one of God. Descending to examine the component parts of a nation, we find covetousness infecting and pervading them all. Hear avarice speaking by the mouth of Nebuchadnezzar, " By the strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom .... I have robbed their treasures . . . , my hand hath found as a nest the riches of the people ; and as one gathereth eggs that are left, have I gathered all the earth." How vividly does Jeremiah depict its atrocities in the unbridled conduct of a Jewish king: "Thine eyes and thine heart are not but for thy covetousness, and for to shed innocent blood, and for oppression, and for violence, to do it." And who that is familiar with sacred history does not here think of Ahab coveting the vineyard of Naboth, and of obtaining it by artifice, subornation, and murder ? Covetousness in rulers leads to bribery and injus- tice. " Thou ahalt take no gift," said Moses, <* for the OF COVETOU8NE88. 95 gift bliiideth the wise, and perverteth the words of the righteous." Accordingly, it is recorded of the eons of Samuel, that << they walked not in his ways, but turned aside after lucre, and took bribes, and perverted judg- ment." And of the Jewish rulers, " they are greedy dogs which can never have enough .... they all look to their own way ; every one for his gain from his quarter." And of Felix, that •'* he hoped that money would have been given him of Paul, that he might loose him." Covetousness has turned the priests and ministers of God into mercenary hirelings j " The heads of Zion judge for reward, and the prophets thereof divine for money : yet virill they lean upon the Lord, and say, Is not the Lord among us 1 none evil can come upon us." In the department of trade, this sin induces the buyer to depreciate the thing which he wishes to purchase, and the seller to employ " divers weights and measures," — thus generating fraud, false- hood, and injustice: while in both it leads to an impious impatience of the sacred restraints of the Sabbath, inducing them to say, " When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn 1 and the Sab- bath, that we may set forth wheat? making the ephah small, and the shekel great, and falsifying the balances by deceit? that we may buy the poor for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes ; and sell the refuse of the wheat ? " Covetousness turns the master into an oppressor, and the servant into a thief. In illustration of the former, the Scripture describes a Laban evading his engagements with Jacob, "chang- ing his wages ten times," and exacting from him years 96 THE GUILT AMD SVtt.8 i > I of laborious servitude ; and it denounces those whoj though their fields had been reaped, ^ kept back the hire of the laborer by fraud." And in illustration of the latter, it exhibits an unscrupulous Gehazi, plausibly lying, and enriching himself at the expense of his master's character, and of the honor of God ; and it exhorts servants to " be obedient unto their masters, not purloining, but shewing all good fidelity." Thus have all classes, in various degrees, lived under the dominion of avarice. The Scriptures ascribe to the same sin, in whole or in part, some of the foulest acts, and the most fearful results, that have stained the history of man. Some of these we have already named. Oppression, vio- lence, and murder, have been among its familiar deeds. " Wo to them that devise iniquity, and work Bvil upon their beds ! when the morning is light they practise it, because it is iti the power of their hands. And they covet fields, and take them by violence ; and houses, and take them away : so they oppress a man and his house, even a man and his heritage." ** So are the ways of every one that is greedy of gain ; who taketh away the life of the owners thereof." In the person of Balaam covetousness essayed to curse the chosen people of God ; but, failing in the infernal attempt, and yet resolved to clutch the pro- mised reward, it devised another course, — it " taught Balak to cast a stumbling-block before the children of Israel, to eat things sacrificed to idols, and to com- mit fornication." The dreadful device succeeded, the displeasure of God was excited against the people, OF C0VET0USNES8. 9^ "90 that << there fell in one day three and twenty thousand.^' Such was "the way of Balaam, the son of Bosor, who loved the wages of unrighteousness." And so ingenious, persevering, and fatally successful, was *^ Balaam for reward." Covetousness instigated Judas to betray the Son of God, the Saviour of the world, " for thirty pieces of silver." It induced Ananias and Sapphira to " tempt the Holy Ghost .... to lie, not unto men, but unto God." In the base expectation of turning " the gift of God" to a lucrative account, it led Simon to offer to purchase that gift " with money." It has even assumed the sacred office, trod the courts of the Lord, " brought in damna> ble heresies," and " with feigned words" — words studied to render the heresy palatable and marketf.ble — it has " made merchandise" of men. It converted the Jewish temple into " a den of thieves ;" and among the articles of merchandise in the mystical Babylon were seen " the souls of men." The Scriptural classification of this sin is illustrative of its vile and aggravated nature ; for it stands asso- ciated with all the principal sins. In that fearful catalogue of the vices of the heathen world furnished by the apostle Paul, in the first chap- ter of his Epistle to the Romans, covetousness stands forth conspicuous. When the apostle Peter is describing the character of those false teachers who would arise in the church, — and describing it with a view to its being recognised as soon as seen, and hated as soon as recognised, — he names covetousness as one of their leading features. t ; I 98 THl GUILT AMD EVaS h 1. V II " But there were false prophets also among the people^ even as there shall be false teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable heresies, even denying the Lord that bought them, and bring upon themselves swift destruction. And many shall follow their per- nicious ways ; by reason of whom the way of truth shall be evil spoken of. And through covetousness shall they, with feigned words, make merchandise of you." Covetousness will be one of the characteristics of the final apostacy, "This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthank- ful, unholy, without natural affection, truce-breakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God." In the last quotation, covetousness is described as more than an attendant evil of the apostacy — it is one of its very elements. In the following places it in identified with idolatry : — " Fornication and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints ;. • . .for this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covet- ous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God." "Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earthy fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry : for which things' sake the wrath of God cometh on OF COVSTOVSNESS. 99 the children of disobedience.'* In addition to which, the apostle James evidently identifies it with adultery, *^ Ye covet, and have not ; .... ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts. Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God ? whosoever, therefore, will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God." Covetousness is not only subversive of the threefold law of Christian duty, personal, social, and divine, but it stands connected with each of the opposite series of vices. " For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness." " I have written unto you, not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother he a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner ; with such an one no not to eat." " Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God 1 Be not deceived : neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God." " Having eyes full of adultery, and that cannot cease from sin ; beguiling unstable souls ; a heart they have exercised with covetous practices; cursed children." In the first part of this classification, we find covetousness distinguishing itself as a prime element in the great system of heathenism, even when that empire of depravity was at its worst. In the second part, we see it forming a leading feature in the charac- 100 THE GUILT AND EVILS \ I r, * i: iU Ml ] I i ter of men whose enormous impiety the apostle appearar to have felt it a labor to describe. In the third, we behold covetousness lending an additional shade of horror to the perilous times of the apostacy — times bo fearful, in the estimation of the apostle, that we may rest assured he would have admitted into his descrip- tion of them none but evils of first-rate magnitude — find yet covetousness is not only there, it is among the first evils which he specifies. His classification implies, that of all the sins which will then prevail^ selfishness will be the prolific root, and covetousness ilic fii-st fruit. So that when the whole history of covetousness shall be read forth from the book of God's remembrance, it will be found that it entered largely into the first fall of man, and into the last fall of the church; and that, during the long lapse of time between, it never lost its power nor ceased to reign. From the fourth, we learn, that if the word of God identifies covetousness with some sins rather than vi'ith others, it is, partly, because those sins rank first in guilt; leaving us to infer that if there were a sin which ranked higher still, covetousness would have been identified with that sin. What was the great sin of the Jewish dispensation, but the sin of idolatry ? it was to repeal the theocracy, to be guilty of treason against the throne of Heaven. "But," says the apostle Paul, tearful as it is, " covetousness is idola- try." What must have been the abhorrence with which a pious Jew regarded adultery, when the sin became associated in his mind as the scripturat representation of the guilt of idolatry I for ^ Judah !• OP COVSTOUSNESS. 101 committed adultery with stocks and with stones.'* And yet, great as his conception of itB enormity must have been, the apostle JamCi declares of the covetous, that he is violating the most sacred obligations to God, that he is committing adultery with gold. And what can be more fearful in the eyes of a sincere Christian than the sin of apostacy 1 of trampling under foot the Son of God ? it is the very consummation of guilt. And yet, fearful as it is, the apostle Peter intimates that covetousness is apostacy. And from the fifth part, we learn that covetousness repeals the entire law of love ; that it proclaims war against all the virtues included in living " soberly, righteously, and godly," and is in sworn confederacy with all the opposite sins included in personal intemperance, injustice towards men, and impiety towards God. Nor is the reason of this alliance, or scriptural classification, obscure. Covetousness is classed with intemperance — or the sins which appear to terminate on the man himself — because, like them, it tends to debase and imbrute him. It is ranked with injustice— or the sins directed against society — ^because, like them, if indulged, and carried out, it seeks its gratification at the expense of all the social laws, whether enacted by God or man. And it is associated with impiety— or sins directly against God — because, like them, it effaces the image of God from the heart, and enshrines an idol there in his stead. Such is a mere outline of the representations of Scripture in relation to the guilt and evils of covet- ousness. Entering with the first transgreseioD, and k2 i 102 THE GUILT AND EVILS violating the spirit of the whole law, it haa poUuteif, and threatened the existence, of each dispensation of religion ; infected all classes and relations of society ; shown itself capable of the foulest acts ; is described as occupying a leading place in the worst state of heathenism, in the worst times of the apostacy, and in the worst characters of those times ; and has the worst sins for its appropriate emblems, and its nearest kindred, and *' all evil" in its train. To exaggerate the evils of a passion which exhibits such a monopoly of guilt, would CCTtainly be no easy task. It has systematized deceit, and made it a science. Cunning is its chosen counsellor and guide. It finds its way, as by instinct, through all the intricacies of the great labyrinth of fraud. It parts with no com- pany, and refuses no aid, through fear of contamina- tion. Blood is not too sacred for it to buy, nor religion too divine for it to sell. From the first step in fraud to the dreadful consummation of apostacy or murder, covetousness is familiar with every step of the long^ laborious, and fearful path. Gould we only see it embodied, what a monster should we behold! Its eyes have no tears. With more than the fifty hand^ of the fabled giant, it grasps at every thing around. In its march through the world, it has been accom* panied by artifice and fraud, rapine and injustice, cruelty and murder; while behind it have dragged heavily its swarm of victims — humanity bleeding, and justice in chains, and religion expiring under its heavy buidens ; orphans, and slaves, and oppressed hirelings^ OF COV£TOXJSNESS. 103 a wailing multitude, reaching to the skirts of the horizon ; and thus dividing the eailh between them, (for how small the number of those who were not to be found either triumphing in its van or suffering in its train,) it has, more than any other conqueror, realised the ambition of gaining the whole world, of establishing a universal empire. From the first step of its desola- ting course, its victims began to appeal to God ; and, as it has gone on in its guilty career, their cries have been thickening and gathering intenseness at every step, and in every age, till the whole creation, aiding them in their mighty grief, has become vocal with woe, and their cries have ascended, " and entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth." " And shall I not visit for these things, saith the Lord 1 " Even now his minis- ters of wrath are arming against it. Even now the sword of ultimate justice is receiving a keener edge for its destruction : it is at large only by respite and sufferance, from moment to moment. During each of these moments, its accumulation of pelf is only an accumulation " of wrath against the day of wrath." And when those dreadful stores shall be finally dis- tributed among the heirs of wrath, covetousness shall be loaded with the most ample and awful portion. Its vast capacity, enlarged by its perpetual craving after what it had not, shall only render it a more capacious vessel of wrath, fitted to destruction. From this scriptural representation of the guilt of co- vetousness, let us proceed to consider some of the spe- cific evils which it inflicts on Christians individually, on the visible church, and, through these, on the world r 104 THS GUILT AND EVILS Were it our object to present a complete catalogue of the injuries which it inflicts on religion, we should begin by adverting to the fact, that it detains numbers from God. Careful and troubled about many things, they entirely neglect the one thing needful. The world retains them so effectually in its service, that they have no time, no heart, to spare for religion ; and though some of them at times may cast a wistful glance in that direction, and even steal a visit, in thought, to the Saviour's feet, yet, like their prototype in the gospel, they " go away sorrowing," for the spell of mammon is upon them. As to the professor of Christianity, the evil in ques- tion operates to his injury, partly by engaging so much of that energy for the world, the whole of which would not have been too much for religion. The obstacles tc the salvation of a man are so numerous and formidable, that the Scriptures represent his ulti- mate success as depending on his '< giving all diligence to it." In the economy of salvation, therefore, God graciously undertakes to watch over and provide for his temporal wants, that, being relieved from all dis- traction from that quarter, h-^ might be able to bend and devote his chief strength to the attainment of heaven. But, in guilty counteraction of this arrange- ment, the covetous professor divides his forces between these two objects most disproportionately. He has but just sufficient fuel to offer up a sacrifice to God, and yet he consumes the principal part of it in sacri* ficing to Mammon. The undivided powers of his mind would not be too much for the claims of religion, OF COVETOUSNESS. 105 and yet he severs and sends the greater proportion of his strength in an opposite direction. The conse- quence is, that his piety is kept in a low, doubtful, disgraceful state. His religious course is marked with hesitation and embarrassment. The cares of this world, and the deceiifulness of riches, engross that feeling which is the appropriate soil of religion, and which belongs to it alone. And to expect to reap the fruits of Christian benevolence from such a mind, would be to look for grapes from thorns, and figs froni thistles. Nor does covetousness operate less injuriously by taking off his supreme trust from God, and giving it to the world. If a staff be placed in the hand of a bent and feeble man, what rao-e natural than that he shouhi lean on it? Man is that impotent traveller, and wealth is the staff' which offers to support his steps. Hence, in the word of God, it is repeatedly intimated that to possess riches, and to trust in them, is one and the same thing, except whei-e grace makes the dis- tinction. The term mammon, for instance, according to its derivation, imports whatever men are apt to confide in. The original term for faith is of the same derivation, and for the same reason — because it implies such a reliance on God as the worldly mind places on riches. So that mammon came to signify riches, because men so commonly put their trust on them. And when our Lord perceived the astonish- ment he had excited, by exclaiming "How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven," the only explanation which he gave, and ]06 THE GUILT ANO< EVILS which he deemed sufficient, imported, that as tlie danger of riches consisted in trusting in them, so the difficulty of possessing them, and not trusting in them, is next to an impossibility — a difficulty which can only be surmounted by omnipotent grace. ' Now, to trust in any created object, is to partake o{ its littleness, mutability, and debasement. But money is a creature of circumstances, the sport of every wind ; the Christian mammonist, therefore, can only resemble the object of his trust. By choosing a heavenly treasure, and making it the object of para- mount regard, he would have gradually received the impress of its celestial attributes; but by giving his heart to earthly gain, he identifies himself with all its earthly qualities; lets himself down, and adapts himself to its insignificance; and vibrates to all its fluctuationss as if the world were an organized body, of whicli he was the pulse. The inconsistencies in which his covetous attach- ments involve him, are grievous and many. His enlightened judgment impels him for happiness in one direction, and his earthly inclinations draw him in another. In the morning, and at night, probably, hd prays, " Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil ;" and yet, during the interval, he pursues the material of temptation with an avidity not to be exceeded by the keenest worldling. He hears, with- out questioning, our Lord's declaration concerning the ilanger of riches ; and yet, though he is already laden with the thick clay, and is daily augmenting his load, he doubts not of passing through the eye of a needle. OF COVETOUSNESS. 107 as a matter of course. He professes to be only thfe steward of his property ; and yet wastes it on himself, as if he were its irresponsible master. He pretends to- be an admirer of men who counted not their lives dear unto them, provided they might serve the cause of Christ ; and yet he almost endures a martyrdom in sacrificing a pittance of his money to that cause ; while to give more than that pittance, especially if it involved an act of self-denial, is a martyrdom he never thought of suffering. He prays for the world's conversion, and yet holds back one of the means with which God has entrusted him to aid that specific object. He professes to have given himself up voluntarily and entirely to Christ ; and yet has to be urged and entreated to relinquish his hold on a small sum which would benefit the church. Indeed, the truths and means of salvation appear to have been so designedly iirranged by God to condemn the covetous professor, that were he not blinded by passion, and kept in countenance by so numerous a fellowship, he would hear a rebuke in every profession he utters, and meet with condemnation at every step he takes. Covetousness frequently serves in the stead of a thousand bonds 1o hold a religious professor in league with the world. Indeed, the sin may be much more potent in him than in many of the avowed ungodly around him. In them, it has to divide the heart with other sinful propensities ; but in him, perhaps, it reigns alone. They can range and wander at will over a larger field of sinful indulgences, but he is restricted to this single gratification. As a Christian professor, he 108 THE GUILT AND EVILS \i must abstain from intemperance, licentiousness, and profanity ; but worldliness is a sphere in which he may indulge to a certain extent without suspicion, for the indulgence comes not within human jurisdiction. If he would be thought a Christian, he must not be seen mingling in certain society, nor indulging in a certain class of worldly amusements ; but, without at all endangering his Christian reputation, he may emulate the most worldly in the embellishment of his house, the decoration of his person, the splendor of hit? equipage, or the luxury of his table. Accordingly, the only apparent difference between him and them, is — not in the greater moderation of his earthly aims, not in the superior simplicity of his tastes, the spiritual elevation of his pursuits, the enlarged benevolence and Christian devotedness of his life — but, that the time which they occupy in spending, he employs in accu- mulating ; the energies which they waste in woridly pleasures, he exhausts in woridly pursuits; the pro- perty which they devote to amusements abroad, he lavishes on indulgences at home ; and while they are pursuing their gratification in one direction, he is indemnifying himself for not joining them by pursuing his gratification as eageriy in another. The loss of one of the bodily senses, it is said, quickens the percep- tion of those that remain ; worldliness alone remains to him, and that is quickened and strengthened by per- petual exercise. All that is unsanc Tied in his nature flows from the fountain of his heart with the greater force, that it has only this one channel in which to run. He may, therefore, be the more worldly iii ^OV COVSTOU8NE88. 109 4r^ity, for not allowing himself to be worldly in «ippearance. His worldliness is only compressed into a smaller compass. Profess what he may, and stand «s high as he may in the opinion of his fellow-profes- sors, he is essentially a worldly man. The world has its sects as well as the church, and he may be said to belong to one of the " stricter sects" of the world, Covetousness generates discontent; and this is an element with which no Christian grace can long be held in affinity. It magnifies trivial losses, and diminishes the most magnificent blessings to a point ; it thinks highly of the least sacrifice which it may :grudgingly make in the cause of God, feels no enter- prise in his service, and never considers itself at liberty to leave its little circle of decent selfishness, in which its murmurs on account of what it has not, are always louder than its thanks for what it has. " Let your conversation," therefore, says the apostle, "be without covetousness, and be content with such things us ye have." " Godliness, with contentment, is great » Covetousness neutralizes the effect of the preaching of the gospel. The Saviour saw this abundantly verified in his own ministry ; and his parable of the sower intimated, that his ministers would see it exem- plified in theirs also. The judgment of the hearer, it may be, is convinced of the divinity of religion j he feels its power, and trembles ; he beholds its attrac- tions, and is captivated. And could he, at such times, be detached awhile from his worldly pursuits, «nd be closely plied with the melting and majestic no THE GUILT AND EVILS claims of the gospel, he might, by the agency of the Holy Spirit, be induced to lay up for himself a treasure in heaven. But the seed has fallen among thorns ; " The cares of this world, ana the deceitful ness of riches, choke the word, and render it unfruitful." His impressions are written in sand ; and no sooner does he leave the house of God, than his worldly plans and prospects come back like the returning tide, and utterly efface them. Closely allied with this evil are formality and hypocrisy in religion. " They speak one to another, every one to his brother, saying. Come, I pray you, and hear what is the word that cometh forth from the Lord. And they come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people ; and they hear thy words, but they will not do them : for with their mouth they show much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness." To the eye of Omniscience they present the hateful spectacle of so many pieces of solemn formality going through the attitudes and signs of devotion, but destitute of all corresponding emotions within. He asks for the heart alone ; but they have brought him all except the heart. Tliat is far away, in the mart, the field, the business of the world, <' buying and selling, and getting gain." In connexion with this formality, there will neces- sarily exist a weariness and impatience under the restraints of the Sabbath. The worldly professor feels during the sacred hours ns if every thing important were standing still. He is not sensible of any need OF COVETOUSNESS. Ill for a day of rest, for the world does not tire him, or tires him only as a fatiguing pleasure to which he is anxious to return with renewed zest. And, until he can so return, the language of his heart, in relation to the Sabbath, is, " Behold what a weariness is it !" But if religion be irksome to a person because it interrupts his worldly pursuits, it is but a short and easy step for him to turn religion itself into traffic. *• Godliness .... is gain ;" but he reverses the propo- sition, and " supposes that gain is godliness." Like the ancient Jews, he would crowd the temple courts with " the tables of the money-changers," and convert the sanctuary itself into the palace of Mammon. His motive for assembling with the worshippers of God may be expressed in the language of the Shechemites, when adopting the religious rites of the sons of Jacob: •'* Shall not their cattle, and their substance, and every beast of theirs, be oursi" But as the ruling principle of his conduct is gain, the same principle which induced him to assume religion, may lead him to renounce it, and to " draw back to perdition." How many who had apparently deserted the service of the world, and enrolled themselves among the servants of God, does covetousness again reclaim, and swear them to allegiance afresh. " They did run well," but the fable of Atalahta became their history — a golden bait was cast in their path; they stopped to take it, and lost the race. In how touching a manner does the apostie refer to the fatal declension of some — probably living characters, known both to himself and Timothy — and impute their apostacy entirely to their 112 THE GUaT AND EVILS avarice. " Money," .... saith he, " which whire* Dome coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows." And how likely is it that Bunyan drew from personal observation, when, in his inimitable allegor}', he describes the professed pilgrims, Hold-the-world, Money-love, Save-all, and By-ends — names which still stand for living realities — -as leaving the road, at the solicitation of Demas, to look at a silver m'he "in a little hill called Lucre." "Now," he adds, "whether they fell into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these things I am not certain ; but this I observed^ that they were never seen again in the way,^^ But where covetousness does not lead the professed believer to open apostacy, it involves him in the guilt of idolatry ; and this, in the eye of Scripturc> is a step beyond. If the former be the rejection of the true God, the latter is the« adoption of a false one. Endea- vour to escape from the charge as he may, his covetousness is idolatry. The general impression, on hearing this proposition, is, that the term idolatry is only employed by the apostle in an accommodated sense — that covetousness is only figurative idolatry. But in the figure lies its force. There is not more essential idolatry at this moment, on the face of the earth, than that which the avaricious man pays to his gold. The ancient Persian, who adored the sun only as the visible image of God^ was guiltless of idolatry OF COVfiTOUSNfiSS, 113 if compared with him. And the only pretence he can have for saying he is not guilty, is, that he does not perform acts of bodily prostration before it. But acta of mere formal homage are no more necessary to constitute a man a worshipper of mammon, than they are to render him a real worshipper of God , in each instance, the homage of the heart is in the stead of all outward prostrations. And does not his gold receive that? Is not his heart a temple from which God has been excluded, in order to make room for mammon ? While he worships God, formally, as if He were only an idol, does he not accord to his gold as much cordiality as if it were God 1 regarding it with all those deep feelings, and mental glances, of confidence, which should be reserved for God alone 1 The idols of the heathen stood, so to speak, between heaven and earth, obscuring the vision of God, intercepting and appropriating the incense which should have ascended to the eternal throne ; and does not his gold, instead of leading his thoughts in gratitude to God, stand between him and the Divine Being, concealing God from his view, engrossing his thoughts to itself, and filling him with that satisfaction which the soul should find in God alone 1 If his gold could be endowed with the power of perception, would it not be tempted to think itself a god ? If it possessed the power , of reading his heart towards it, would it not find its^ image enshrined there? and a degree of afiection lavished on it, and a closeness of communion main- « tained with it, such as a god might accept? His , covetotiiSness is idolutty. 12 114 THE GUILT AND MVILU Among the fatal evils inflicted by covetouBness oti the church collectively, the corruption of its doctrines^ and deterioration of its piety) form one of the greatest magnitude. This it has done in two ways ; first, by obtruding men into the sacred office who have taught erroneous doctrine as zealously as if it had been true ; and, secondly, by obtruding others who have taught an orthodox creed, with which they had no sympathy, as coldly and heartlessly as if it had been false. The former have been founders of heretical sects and propagators of a spurious piety ; the latter have contributed to lay all piety to sleep, and 1o turn the church itself into the tomb of religion. The former have often prophesied falsely, because the people loved to have it so, consulting the depraved tastes of those who would not endure sound doctrine ,* the latter have consulted only their own tastes, which sought no higher gratification than the sordid gains of office. **Woe unto them!.... for they have run greedily' after the error of Balaam for reward." "A heart they have exercised with covetous practices ; cursed children, .... following the way of Balaam, the son of Bosor, who loved the wages of unrighteousness." l^ike him, both have equally, and for the same reasons, laboured in effect to " curse the children of Israel." Like the Pharisees of old, both have equally, and for the same reasons, " made long prayers" their pretence, but the " devouring of widows' houses" tlieir end. Like Judas, both have equally, and for the same reasons, betrayed the Son of God into the hands of hi* enemies. Like Simon Magus, both have trafficked m OF COVKtOU8N188. 115 ^e things of God. Both alike have been ** greedr of filthy lucre ;^' have obtruded into the courts of tho Lord; taken up a position between God and man; and, through covetousness, have made merchandise of human souls. They have brought the world into the, church ; and have sold the church to the wortd. This is the triumph, the apotheosis of Mammon. Piety has left the temple weeping at the sight; morality itself has been loud in its condemnation ; an ungodly world has triumphed, and << the Son of God been crucified afresh, and put to an open shame.** "Wo! unto them!" The magnitude of this evil is further apparent in the fact, that it has not only threatened to frustrate the design of the Christian Church, as the instrument of the world's conversion, but has done more than any olher sin towards the fulfilment of the threat. That our blessed Lord consecrated his chiu*ch to the high office of converting the world, is evident from the final command which he gave it, to go and preach his gospel to every creature. That the execution of this sacred trust would be endangered principally by a spirit of covetousness, was possibly presignified by the ■in of Judas. But a more emphatic intimation of the same danger had been given in the history of the Jewish church ; for the first sin of that church in Canaan, as we have remarked already, was in the accursed thing f when ^Hmel fied before the men of Ai. And was there not a still more significant intimation afforded, in the earliest days of the Christian church, of danger from the same quarter 1 its very first sin 116 THB GUILT AND EVILS eonsisted in one of its members keeping back part of his properly through covetousness. Whether or not these intimations were necessary, we will leave the history of the subsequent corruptions of Chrisilianity to testify. But even since the church ceased to be the vorter of the world's wealth, since the period ceased when 'X gloried to repeat the Laodicean boast, " I am rich and increased in goods, and have need of nothing," — has benevolence been one of its characteristics? The unrepealed command of Christ has been known to its members; they have had the means of carrying it extensively into effect ; millions of their fellow- creatures have been passing into eternity, age after age, unsaved; but their talent, meanwhile, if not hid in a napkin, has been multiplied chiefly for their own use. Their worldly prosperity has so completely engrossed them, that they have thought it quite sufficient to attend to their own salvation, while the world around them has been left to perish. ..^ If this be innocence, what is guilt? If this be venial negligence, what is aggravated criminality? It is a sin whose guilt exceeds all computation. Let it be supposed that at some past period in the history of Britain, news had arrived of an awful visitation of nature, by which one of her distant colonies is in a state of famine. Multitudes have died, numbers are dying, all are approaching the point of starvation. Besides which, a powerful enemy is gathering on their frontiers, and threatening to hasten the work of death.jci The government at home opens ita stores; publia OV COVfiTOUSN£88. 117 pari eharity bursts forth and pours relief through a thousand channels. A fleet is freighted with the precious means of life, and despatched to the scene ofsuSering, wafted by the sighs and prayers of the nation. For a time it steers direct for its object. But having lost sight of land, the ardor of those employed abates. Though engaged in a commission which angels might convoy, their impressions of its importanc^c fade from their minds. A group of islands lies in their course, and though far short of their destination, they decide to call. Prospects of mercantile advantage here present tliemselves ; the spirit of gain takes possession of them ; they are inclined, solicited, prevailed on, to remain. Their original object of mercy is forgotten, the stores of life with which they had been entrusted are used and bartered as if intended only for themselves ; and tiius an enterprise of beneficence on which God had smiled, sinks into a base mercantile adventure. " But the supposition is impossible ; if any thing in the least resembling it had ever transpired, humanity would have wept at it, — religion would have turned from the tale with horror ; it would have been viewed as an ineffaceable stain on our national character, at which every cheek would have blushed and bunied." Impossible, in the sense supposed ; but in a higher sense it has been realised, and far, far exceeded. Tho world was perishing; the compassion of God was moved ; the means of salvation were provided — and, ! at how costly a price ! — the church was charged to convey them without deljaiy to her dying fellow-men, ftnd to pause not in her office of mercy till the last I r( J18 THE GUILT AND EVILS sinner had enjoyed the means of recovery. For a time, the god-like trust was faithfully executed. " An angel flying through the midst of heaven," was an apt representation of the directness and speed with which the church prosecuted her task. Jesus beheld the travail of his soul, and was satisfied. Souls were snatched as brands from the burning. But a change came over her conduct. The spirit of the world returned, and cast a spell on her movements. Conti- tinents were yet to be visited, and millions to be rescued, when she paused in her onward course. Immortal men continued to perish by nations; but the agents of mercy had abandoned their work. As if the stores of life, with which they were intrusted, had been intended solely for their own use, they began to live unto themselves. An enterprise of mercy, in which God had embarked his highest glory, and which involved the happiness of the world, was arrested, and lost to myriads, by a spirit of worldly gain. For if, at any given period after the first age of the Christian church, the professed agents of mercy had been sought for, how would the great majority of them have been found occupied and engrossed but in "buying, and selling, and gettuig gain r « Each one 5) says Cyprian, as early as the middle of the third century, — " each one studies how to increase his patrimony, and forgetting what the faithful did in apostolic times, or what they ought always to do, their great passion is an insatiable desire of enlarging their fortunes.'* This, however, is not the extent of the evil which covetousness inflicts on the cause of human bappinesi. OF COVETOUSNESS. 110 It has not only rendered the majority of professed believers useless to the church, and the church, for ages, useless to the world, but, through these, it has held the world in firmer bonds of allegiance to sin, than would otherwise have existed. Your devotedness to the world, we would say to the Christian mammonist, tends more than any of the arguments of infidelity to confirm men in their insensibility to the claims of the gospel. That gospel found you, we will suppose, in close worldly alliance with themselves ; worshippers together in the temple of mammon ; running the same race for the prize of wealth ; having no aims or desires but such as wealth could gratify; and, consequently, bending all your endeavours after it. Subsequently, however, you profess to have undergone a change ; and, when they hear you describe the nature of that change, or hear it described for you, they hear it said that you have at length found the pearl of great price ; that you have been put in possession of a good which renders you independent of all inferior things, and which enables you .to look down with scorn on those objects about which you have been so eager and selfish, abandoning them to such as know no higher good ; that henceforth your treasure is in heaven, and there will your heart be also. They hear this, and are amazed ! They have not been able to detect the slightest abatement in the ardour of your worldly pursuits. They find you still among their keenest competitors in the race of wealth. What new object of affection you may have adopted, 120 THE GUILT AND EVILS \: they know not; but they will readily acquit yott of all ingratitude to your first love ; for they can testify that your pulse does not beat less truly to its smiles and its frowns than it did when you knew no other object of regard. Whatever object you may trust more, they know not ; but this they can witness, that, judging from your conduct, you do not trust money less ,* and, were it not that you say so, they would not have known that your eye was fixed on any invisible dependence. And when, besides this, they hear you admonished for your worldliness, and reproached with the tenacity of your grasp on wealth, and denounced for your devotion to self, and your want of devotion to the cause of your new adoption, how can they be otherwise than confirmed in their opinion that your profession is hypocrisy, and all religion only a name 1 And the effect is, to deepen the sleep into which they have sunk in the arms of the world. We all know the persuasive power which the example of the martyrs and early confessors of the cross exercised on those who beheld it. Their entire dedication of their property and lives to the cause of Christ, struck at the very throne of Mammon. Numbers awoke as from a dream ; for the first time suspected the omnipotence of wealth, and were seized with a noble disdain of it. They saw men advancing with the standard of a new kingdom : the sincerity of those men they could not doubt, for they beheld them, in their onward course, sacrificing their worldly prospects, trampling on their wealth, and smiling on 09 COVETOUSNSSS. 121 yoil y can r to its ew no ma/ itnese, trust they on any they and wealth, d your option, their !nd all deepen confronting death. The contagion of their example Ihey could not resist ; they fell into tlieir train, and enrolled themselves as their fellow-subjects. But will not your opposite example, coinciding as its worldly influence does with the natural propensities of men, operate far more powerfully in detaining men from Christ? Has your conduct ever allured them to revolt from the world to Christ ? Is it not more likely to seduce them from Christ, than to win them to him ? And is this ihy kindness to thy friend 1 Has He who died for you deserved this at your hinds ? He intended that, by the evident subordination of your property to him, you should proclaim to the world your conviction of his divine superiority, and thus aim to increase the number <;f his subjects ; whereas your evident attachment to it, tells them there is a rival interest in your heart, weakens their conviction of your religious sincerity, and thus renders your wealth subservient to the empire of Satan. " The wicked blesseth the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth." In order that you may see the guilt of your conduct in its true light, reflect, that the inordinate love of wealth, by disparaging and forsaking the only true standard of excellence, has introduced an irreconcileable variance between the divine and the human estimate of every thing possessing a moral ■quality; and that you, who ought to be giving your voice for God against the world, are virtually siding with the world against him, and acquitting and applauding the man whom the Lord condemns. The determinate influence of money, we say, M , 122 THS GUILT AND EYILI .' h appears in this — that it comes at length to erect a new itandard of judgment, to give laws, and to found an empire, in contradistinction from the divine empire. The law of God proclaims, " Thou shalt not covet ;" but in the kingdom of Mammon this law is virtually repealed, and it is made lawful for all his subjects to covet, provided only they covet according to rule — submit to a few easy conventional regulations. They possess a code of their own, by which a thousand actions are made legal, and have become familiar, though at evident variance with the divine code. The authorities they plead, are such as custom, convenience, example, utility, expedience ; " Yet their posterity approve their sayings." And their highest sanctions are, the fear of loss, and the hope of gain ; for "God is not in all their thoughts." In his kingdom, the safety of the soul is placed above all other considerations ; in theirs, it is treated as an impertinence, and expelled. In their language, wealth means wisdom, — worth, happiness; while the expla- nation which he gives of it is temptation, vanity, danger. He denominates only the good man, wise ; while the steadfast and admiring gaze which they fasten on the rich, proclaims that, in their estimation, wealth is in the stead of all other recommendations, or rather an abstract of them all. And, at the very moment, when God is pronouncing the doom pf the covetous, and commanding hell to enlarge itself for his reception, they, in defiance of the divine decision, are proud to catch his smiles, and to offer incense at his shrine. " The wicked blesseth the covetous, whom he Lord abhorreth." OF COVETOUSNESS. 123 >' Thus, if sin has produced a revolution in this part of the divine dominions, it seems to have been the eflect of wealth to give to that revolution the consoli- dation of a well-organized empire. Alas! how complete its arrangements, — ^how stable and invincible its power! It has enacted new laws for human conduct, given new objects to human ambition, and new classification to human character and society ; — the whole resulting in a kingdom in which the divine authority is unacknowledged, and from which every memento of the divine presence is jealously excluded. Now, one of the leading purposes of God in instituting a church is, that, in the midst of this awful confederation of evil, he might have a people perpetu- ally protesting against the prevailing apostacy. For this purpose, he gives them himself, that, by admitting them to the Fountain, he might raise them, before the eyes of the world, to an independence of the streams. And, for the same purpose, he gives them a portion of earthly property, of that common object of worldly trust, that they might have an opportunity of disparag- ing it before the world, by subordinating it to spiritual ends, and thus publicly vindicating the outraged supremacy of the blessed God. How momentous the issue, then, depending on the manner in which Christians employ their property. By their visible subordination of it to God, they would be " condemning the world," and putting a lasting disgrace upon its idol ; they would be distinguishing themselves from the world more effectually than by assuming the most marked badge, or by making the vii THE GUILT AMD EVBLff, mo:$t ostentatious profession ; tliey would be employing ihe only argument for the reality of religion which the world generally will regard^ which it cannot resist, and which would serve in the stead of all other arguments. Many things there are which the world can part with, many sacrifices which it can make, in imitation of the Christian j but to " esteem the reproach of Chris* greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt," »., :sacrifice wealth, is an immolation, a miracle of ilevotedness, which no arts of worldly enchantment can imitate. Tliey can understand how religion may l)e subordinated to gain ; but that gain should be sacrificed to God, is a n\ystery which no article in their creed, no principle in their philosophy, can explain. O, had the Christian church been true to its original design, had its members realized the purposes of its heavenly Founder, they would have chained the idol wealth to the chariot of the gospel, and have \ed it in triumph through the world I But of how large a proportion of professing Chris- tians may it be alleged, that, as far as the church was intended to answer this end, they have conspired to frustrate the design of its institution. Their property, which was meant to furnish them with the means of deprecating and denouncing the w'ealth-idolatry of the world, they have turned into an occasion of joining and strengthening the endangered cause of the world. Their conduct in relation to the gains of earth,, which was intended to be such as to attract the notice, and awaken the inquiries, of mankind, has been the very point on which they have symbolized with ther THE DOOM or C0VET0V8NESS. 125 J) world more cordially than on any other — standing on the same ground, pursuing the same ends, governing themselves by the same maxims. By virtually falling down before the golden image which the world has set up, they have thrown opprobrium on the voluhtary poverty of Christ, obscured the distinctive spirituality of his kingdom, brought into question the very reality of his religion, and confirmed and prolonged the reign of Mammon. The man who deserts his post in the day of battle, and goes over to the enemy, is consigned by universal consent to infamy of the deepest dye ; but they, by paying homage to wealth, have betrayed a cause which involves infinite results, have deserted their standard in the time of conflict, joined hands with the common foe, and thus lent themselves to reinforce and establish the dominion of sin. „. '. -'I- SECTION VIII. THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 1p the guilt of covetousness be so enormous, can we wonder at the variety of methods by which a gracious God seeks to prevent iti or at the solemn threatenings which a holy God denounces against it? The des- cription of the sin which we have already given, so evidently involves its condemnation, that on this part of the subject we shall be comparatively brief. The extreme punishment which awaits the practice m2 126 THE DOOM 07 COVETOV8NES0. I 11 i' of covetouBness may be inferred from the circumstance that the tenth command denounces the sin in ih earliest form. Unlike the other commands, which, taken literally, only prescribe for the outward conduct^ this speaks to the heart. It does not merely speak to the eye, and say, thou shalt not look covetously. It does not merely speak to the hand, and say, thou shalf not grasp covetously ; thou shalt not steal ; the law had said this before. But, instead of waiting for the eye and the hand to do this, it goes in to the heart — " for out of the heart proceedeth covetousness" — and it says to the heart, " tliou shalt not covet." And hence saith the apostle, " I had not known the sinfulness of inordinate desire if the law had not said, Thou shalt not covet." It lays its fiery finger upon the first movement of covetousness, and brands it as a sin. Covetousness is a sin which, more than most vices, brings with it its own punishment. The very objects which excite it, form a rod for its chastisement. How perpetually and solicitously is God reminding iis that the pursuit of these objects is attended witli corroding anxiety and exhausting toil ; that they are filthy luv.re — leading through miry ways to reach them, and polluting the hand that touches them ; that they are uncertain riches, — always winged for flight,* — so delusive and unsubstantial that they are not, they are * Thus the Greeks spoke of Plutus, the god of riches, as a fickle divinity ; representing him as blind, to intimate that he distributes his favors indiscritninately ; as lame, to denote the slowness with which be approaches ; and winged, to imply the velocity with which be flie» away. THE DOOM or COTETOUSNEBS. 127 only the mirage of the world's desert ; that they are unBatidfactory — ^< for he that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver, nor he that loveth abundance with increase ;" that the possession of them is often attended with mortification, and a separation from them with anguish : in a word, that they are dangerous and destructive, leading men " into temptation and a snare, and piercing them through with many sorrowtj;" and thus, in their vcr}'^ nature, they bring with them a part of the doom of those who covet them. Like the deadly reptile armed with a warning rattle, they are so constituted as to apprize us of the danger of too close an approach. They all seem to say, a*s we put forth our hand to take them, " Do not covet me — do not take me to your heart, or I shall certainly disap- point, and injure, if not ruin you." Were all the property which has ever passed through the hands of men still in existence, and could we hear it relate the history of those who possessed it, what tales of toil, anxiety, and guilt, of heartless treachery, and fiendish circumvention, of consciences seared, and souls lost, and hell begun on this side death, would it have to unfold! Might we not well recoil from it, and exclaim, *•' Give me neither poverty nor riches, but feed me with food convenient for me — give us this day our daily bread." But in addition to the punishment which the sin involves in its own nature, God has often visited it with, a positive infliction. Instances of this fact have already passed in review before us. Whether we advert to the losses and sufierings of Lot, the Btoaing I it V I K 't 128 THE DOOM OP COTBTOUSNESS. •I II ' '. 'i ^ i of Achan, the leprosy of Gehazi, or the fate of Judas^ the secret of their punishment is explained when the AInnighty declares, "For the iniquity of his covetousness was I wroth, and smote him." And what do we behold in every such infliction but an earnest of its coming doom ? the scintillations of that wrath, the flashes of that distant fire which is kindled already to consume it ? And not only has he punished it ; he is visiting and denouncing it at the present moment. " Woe to hini that coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that he may set his nest on high, that he may be delivered fronq the power of evil ! Thou hast consulted shame to thy house by cutting off many people, and hast sinned against thy soul. For the stones shall cry out of the wall, and the beam out of the timber shall answer it." The very house which he has built for his security shall reproach him for the grasping injustice of the means by which it was reared. Mysterious voices from every part of it shall upbraid and threaten him for having pursued the gains of this world to the neglect of his immortal soul. It shall be haunted by the fearful spectre of his own guilty conscience ; it shall be the prison-house of justice till he is called to the bar of God ; instead of defending; him from evil, it shall seem to attract and receive all dreadful things to alarm and punish him. The law of God is still in the act of condemning covetousness. The fires of Sinai, indeed, have ceased to bum, and its thunders have ceased to utter their Toices ; but that law, in honor of which these terrors THE DOOM OF COVBTOUSNESS. 12^ appeared, is in Ibrce still ; that law which said. '* Tliou ehalt not covet," is burning and thundering against covetousness still. It has been republished under thu gospel with additional teaactions ; it is written by the finger ol' the Spirit on tiie fleshly tables of every renewed heart ; it is inscribed by Providence on every object of human desire, to warn us of danger as often as our eye rests on them. And if, heedless of that warning, we yet pursue those objects to excess, and put forth our hand to take them — if then the terrors of another Sinai do not kindle and flash forth upon uh, it is not that the law has lost its force, but that it is reserving itself for another day. Lost its force ! — It is at this moment making inquisition in every human heart, and if there be but one feeling of inordinate worldly desire there, it takes cognizance of it, and denounces against it tiie wrath of God. Lost its force ! It is daily following the covetous through the world, tracking them through all the windings of their devious course, chasing them out of the world, pursuing ihem down to their own place, and kindling around them there fires such as Sinai never saw. " The wicked blesseth the covetous, wliom the Lord abhorreth." Not only does the law condemn him, but God abhors him ; and how hateful must that sin be, which, in any sense, compels the God of mercy to hate the creatures which he himself has made, to loathe the work of his own hands ! Yet covetousness does this. And it is important to remark, that the covetousness against which the Scriptures launch their most terrible anathemas is not of the icandalous kind. '•) I* ( ' M ' ) % .M '/ • 130 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. but such as may escape the censures of the church, and even receive the commendations of the world : leaving us to draw the inevitable conclusion, that if the milder forms of the sin be punished, its grosser degrees have every thing to fear. Here, for example, is a covetous man of whom the wicked speak well — a proof that he is not rapacious or avaricious, for a person of such a stamp is commended by none — and yet God abhors him. And who can conceive the misery of being abhorred by the blessed God ! How large a proportion of the suffering which the world at present contains might be traced to God's detestation of this sin: and, probably, since the guilt of the sin goes on rapidly increasing with every passing year, the punishment of it in this world will go on increasing also. How large a proportion of the misery of hell at this moment, points to this sin as its origin ! And how rapidly, it is to be feared, does that numerous class of the lost go on augmenting, of which the rich man in the parable forms the appalling type ! But, " behold, another woe cometh !" Another seal is yet to be opened, and Death will be seen, loith Hell following him. It is of one of the classes of the covetous especially that the apostle Peter declares, "their judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not." — The angel charged with their destruction is on the wing, and is hourly drawir.^ nearer. And the apostle James, addressing the covetous of his day, exclaimed, in reference to the approaching destruction of the Jewish state, <i merit these strictures on covetousness, they can only apply to me, if at all, in the most mitigated sense. The plausible air which this remonstrance wears, requires that it should receive examination. Yon have given, you say, to the cause of Christian philanthropy. But it may be inquired, when have you given 1 Has it been only when your sensibility has been taken by surprise? or when a powerful appeal has urged you to the duty? or, when the example, or the presence of others, has left you no alternative 1 or, when the prospect of being published as a donor tempted your ostentation? or, when importunity annoyed you ? or, when under the passing influence of a fit of generosity ? We would not too curiously analyze the composition of any apparent virtue; nor would we have you to suspend the practice of charity till you can be perfectly certain that your motives are unmixed. But we would affectionately remind you that if you have given to God at such times only, it proves to a demonstration that you are covetous at all other times. Your covetousness is a habit, your benevolence only an act ; or, rather, it is only the momentary suspension of your prevailing habit ; and, as the circumstance that a man enjoys lucid intervals does not exempt him from being classed among the insane, so your accidental and occasional charities still leave you in the ranks of the covetous. But as you plead that you have given, it may be inquired further, — what have you given? The mere circumstance of a Christian professor devoting a part FOR ITS WANT OF LIBCRALITT. 139 of hia property to God does not denominate him benevolent ; otherwise Ananias must be honored with the epithet ; and yet it was his covetousness which involved him -in falsehood, and his falsehood drew down destruction. " There is that withholdeth more than is meet :" if men were to be denominated by that which characterizes them in the sight of God, how many an individual who is now called benevolent on account of what he gives, would be stigmatized as covetous on account of what he withholds. Which can more properly be said of you, that you have given, or that you have withheld? Would you not feel degraded and displeased to hear others reporting of you that, slender as your contribution is, it is all you can give ? Numbers profess to give their mite ; by which, though they may not confess it to themselves, they feel as if they had in some way approached the example of the widow, if not actually entitled themselves to a share of her praise. While, in fact, there is this immense distinction, that whereas she cast into the treasury only two mites because it was her all, they cast in only a mite in order that they may keep their all. They pay this insignificant fraction in tribute to a clamorous conscience, in order that they may buy off" the great bulk of their wealth, and quietly consume it on their selfishness. Her greatness of soul, her magnanimous benevolence, held the Saviour of the world in admiration, and drew from him words of complacency and delight. Their pretended imitation of her conduct is an insult to her munificence, and to the praise which the benevolent I 140 KXCU8E8 OF COVETOUSNE88 'i1 Jesus bestowed on it. And yet to which of these two classes of donors do you approach the nearest? Benevolence, you are aware, is comparative: there are some who have given their all to God, and there arc those who may almost be said to keep their all to themselves, — to which of these two descriptions do you bear the greater resemblance ? The tree is known by its fruits: now, it might not be an unprofitable exercise for you to examine whether you are prepared to rest your claims to the Christian character on the proportion in which you have borne the fruits of Christian benevolence. A second plea is, that you believe you are in the habit of contributing to the cause of mercy as others do. But have you — a Christian friend might inquire — have you ever reflected whether or not others have adopted the right standard of benevolence ? The amount of property devoted by the Christian public to God is annually increasing: does not that imply that Christians, at present, are only approaching the proper standard of liberality, rather than that they have already reached it? And would it not be noble, would it not be godlike in you, were you to reach that standard before them ; were you to take your rule immediately from the cross itself, rather than from the example of those who, it is to be feared, are standing from it afar off? Christians, in the present day, seem to have entered into a kind of tacit compact, that to give certain sums to certain objects shall be deemed benevolent: the consequence of which is, that, though most of them FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 141 are contributing less than " of the ability which God giveth," they yet never suspect their claim to be deemed liberal. And another consequence is, that when a Christian distinguishes himself, and stands out from the ranks of the church, by a noble deed of liberality, though constrained to admire him, they do not consider themselves called on to imitate ; for they feel as if he had exceeded the rules, passed the prescribed limits of benevolence. We have supposed that you not only plead the example of others, but that you are also ready to add, " I contribute as much as I conveniently can.'''* Here, however, two questions instantly arise ; first, whether you mean that you devote to God as much of your property as is convenient to your luxur}', or convenient to your bare personal comfort ? And, secondly, whether what is generally understood by personal convenience, is precisely the kind of arbitrator to which a Christian can safely refer the amount of his charity 1 > When you say that you contribute as much as you conveniently can, we presume your meaning to be that you devote to benevolent uses all that your present rate of expenditure happens to leave unappropriated to other objects. But here again two questions arise : if your expenditure is calculated and reduced to a plan, ought not the question, how much shall I devote to God, to' have made an original part of that plan? But since you confess that grave omission, ought you not now to think of retrenching your expenses, and reducing your plan, that yout m i? til 142 EXCUSES OF COVETOVS.NESS •\ U charity may not be left to the mercy of an expensive and selfish convenience 1 Do you not know that all the great works of the Christian church have been performed by sacrificing your favorite principle, convenience? that a Croesus himself might find it convenient to give but little in charity 1 and an Apicius to give nothing ? and that, if the men who, in all ages, have been most distinguished for extending the kingdom of Christ, had listened to the dictates of convenience, they would have lived and died in inglorious and guilty indolence 1 And need you be reminded, how easily God could convince you, by simply reducing your present income, that you might have made it convenient to contribute to his cause more than you now do, by the exact amount of that reduction ? And do you not see, that your unfaithful* ness to your present trust may operate with God to forbid your further prosperity ? for, is it not a law of his kingdom, that the misimproved talent shall be withdrawn from the possessor, rather than increased ? Besides which, you are closing your eyes to eternal consequences ; for " he that soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly." The husbandman who should grieve that he had land to sow, and begrudge the seed which he sowed in it as lost, would be wise and innocent compared with the man who, while professing to believe that his charity is seed sown for an eternal harvest, should yet stint and limit his gifts to the precarious leavings of an improvident convenience. Or, you may be ready to plead, " I consider myself not only justified in my present style of living, but as u FOR ITS WANT OP LIBERALITT. 143 benefiting the community by spending a portion of my property in luxuries, more than by giving that portion of it away in alms ; besides, by so expending it, I am employing and supporting the very classes who subscribe to and principally sustain the cause of Christian charity." To such a statement w \ can only reply, generally, that your scale of expend!' ure must depend, partly, on the rank you hold in society ; that to arbitrate correctly between the claims of self and the cause of mercy, is ■'ie great problem of Christian benevolence ; and that, if you tiave solved this problem scripturally and conscientiously before God, it is not for man to sit in judgment on your conduct. . But if you have not — if the question still remain open for consideration, your attention is earnestly solicited to three classes of remark — economical, logical, and religious. When you speak of benefiting the community by spending, more than by giving, you are, in effect, raising a question in political economy. Now, to this it may be replied, that the Christian liberality to which you are urged is not that indiscriminate alms-giving which would encourage idleness and improvidence. The introduction of such an idea is quite beside the question in hand. The charity which you are called . on to exercise is such as would leave the whole apparatus of useful production untouched; or which would touch it only to render it more effective and beneficial — a charity which should at once discourage vice j assist the helpless, destitute, and diseased ; I ii 4 lU EXCUSES OP COVETOUSNESS I reclaim and reform the vicious ; civilize barbarism ; call into activity the physical, mental, and moral resources of savage lands; excite and reward industry; instruct the ignorant ; circulate the word of God ; senil the agents of the Christian church in all directions; and which should thus furnish employment for multitudes, give a direction to the energies of men which should bear fruit for both worlds, modify and raise the tone of political economy itself, and thus be the means of lifting earth nearer heaven. ' . < - *. . And then, as to the value of labour and wealth, you have to consider that the labour which is beneficial to the individual, may be quite unprofitable to the country, and, in the end, injurious, and even ruinous ; otherwise, war, or the multiplication of gaming-houses, and gin-palaces, by giving employment to numbers, must be hailed as a blessing; instead of which, it might easily be shown that, in a variety of ways, they operate economically as a curse. You have to consider also, that it is not the mere increase of a nation's wealth which enhances its permanent prosperity; othenvise, the colonial mines of Spain would be still her boast and glory, instead of accounting, as they unquestionably do, for her national poverty. And the question is, whether much of your outlay, though it may encourage labour, and increase the present wealth of the nation, has not, when viewed as a part of a great and slowly developed system, a tendency to generate many of the evils which the Economical science deplores, of shortening the intervals between what are called the !l FOR ITS WANT OF LIBEBAXITY. 145 barism ; 1 moral idustry ; i; send actions ; ent for of men lify and thus be Ith, you ificial to to the uinous ; ■houses, umbers, hich, it s, they lave to se of a manent Spain ead of or her r much ur, and IS not, slowly lany of 3res, of lied the •periodical crashes^ and of proving in the end a national bane, and not a blessing. We might, indeed, by taking advantage of a dis> tinction which obtains in political economy between productive and unproductive consumption, undertake to show that, by expending your revenue on the superfluities of life, you are consuming it unproduc' iively, that is, in a way which does not add to the annual quantity or value of the national produce ; and that you are thus comparatively sinking and absorbing in self-indulgence that which might have augmented the national wealti:, and have made you a greater national blessing. So that, though we do not say that the science blames you, yet the praise which it accords to you is but secondary and qualified. But not only is not an unnecessary expenditure productive of the good you imagine, it is attended with positive evils. For, in order to support it, a proprie- tor of land, for instance, must raise his rents ; in order to pay these, the farmer must raise the price of his produce ; in order to purchase that, the laborer must receive increased wages ; and the consequence is, that that large number of the human family whose means of subsistence are precarious, experience an increased difficulty in obtaining even this scanty supply. Be- sides which, a useless consumption, by keeping up a high scale of expenditure, and engrossing the time of the producer, prevents leisure, and thus retards mental cultivation, and real improvement. Again ; employing the terra logical in the humblest sense, and for the sake of distinction, it may b^ o m I U6 EXCUSES OF C0VET0USNE8S « mi i ' ' ! ^ \i: suppose accruing ) really so much benefit as you the community from what you spend on superfluities, would you not be justified in spending more upon them 1 Ought it not to become a serious question with you, whether or not you are, spending enough upon them ? whether i* be not your duty to spend all you can upon them 1 to with- draw even that small modicum which you now dispense in charity, and to devote that also to " the pride of life?" But from such a conclusion you recoil with dismay ; though it seems only the legiti- mate application of your own principle. You add, also, that the money which you expend in luxury actually employs the very classes who subscribe to, and principally support, the cause of Christian charity* As far as you are concerned, remember, this is purely accidental. Whatever credit may be due to them for thus consecrating the fruit of their labour to God, not a particle of that credit can properly accrue to you» Besides, if they do right in thus taking their property to GoJ, are not you doing wrong in taking your pro- perty from him ? and will not their conduct be cited against vou in condemnation ? To be consistent with yourself, you must actually condemn them for appro- priating so much of their property to God. On your principle, they an essentially wrong for not indulging more in superfluities. For, if your self-indulgence, in this respect, works so beneficially for the general good, would not their self-indulgence work equally welll From this conclusion, also, you probably recoil, though it seems only the legitimate application of your own principle. FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERAL1T7. 147 But, as a professed follower of Christ, you will surely prefer to decide the question on religious grounds — aware, as you are, that whatever is morally wrong, cannot be politically right. Now, you profess freely to admit that the claims of Christian charity should be supported ; the only question with you is, whether you are or not doing more good by spending what you do in luxury, than by dispensing it all in charity. But let me ask you, as under the eye of Omniscience — is your ruling motive in this lavish expenditure a sincere desire to benefit the community? or, are you not actuated rather by a love of self-gratification 1 Be- cause, if so, it woulu ^e well for you to remember, that, though God may overrule your evil for good — though your profusion, as a matter of political econo- my, should be proved to work well, and to be worthy of praise, yet, as a question of morality, bearing on your eternal state, it may endanger your safety, and aggravate your condemnation. If it be true, that your eternal welfare depends on the ascendancy which the spiritual may now gain over the sensible — and that every additional worldly indulgence is so much advan- tage given to the flesh over the spirit, are you not, by your profusion, endangering your own everlasting peace for the sake of uncertainly promoting the temporal welfare of others'? and is not this a most romantic mode of self-immolation? a loving of your neighbour, not merely as yourself, but enthusiastically more, and infinitely better, than yourself? In addition to which, your profusion deprives you of the power of performing any great acts of liberality. It invites tho I I 148 Excuses OF C0VET0USNE8S J; i 4 I M ]i' classes below you to aspire to an imitation of your ^ style of living. It provokes that fierce and ruinous I competition of fashion so generally complained of, and which you yourself, perhaps, loudly deprecate ; and it gives the enemies of religion occasion to triumph, and /to say, in the language of one of our leading Reviews, "The fTodly testify no reluctance to follow the foot- hieps of the worldly, in the way to wealth. They quietly and fearlessly repose amidst the many luxuries it enables them to procure. We see Iheir houses furnished in every way to gratify the lust of the flesh, the desire of the eye, and tlie pride of life ; and their tables covered with the same luxurious viands that are in ordinary use with the men of the world. This self-indulgence, and worldly conformity, and vain glory, although at variance with the spirit and princi- ples of the gospel, seem to find just as much favor in their eyes as with other people." " But had I more wealth to bestow, I would cheerfully give it." "Be not deceived." Certain as you suppose that fact to be, your conduct at present proves that it is the greatest of all uncertainties; or rather, the certainty is all on the side of your continued covetousness. Eiches were never yet known to cure a selfish extravagance, or to remedy the love of riches. As well might a vintage be expected to allay the thirst of a fever produced by wine. " He thtit loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver ; nor he that lovetli abundance with increase." if/»^ JVec Craai fortuna uN^uant, nee Persica Regna Sufficient animo rOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 149 The cure you need consists, not in the increase of your wealth, but in the reduction of your desires, and the conscientious management of your present income, as a faithful servant of Jesus Christ. Till this be effected, the augmentation of your property a thousand-fold would not increase your benevolence, and when it is effected, the reduction of your property to two mites would not be able to rob you of the pure satisfaction of casting them into his treasury. Agur declined the abundance to which you aspire, as a perilous condition ; and the individual who pro- fesses to desire opulence only for the sake of having more to bestow, and who makes that desire an excuse forgiving nothing at present, gives ground lo fear that his desire is only a pretext for indulging covetousness under tlfe mask of religion. But you are not to wait till you have reached what you deem the best possible state for the exercise of benevolence. The charity required at your hands at present, is only such as your limited resources will allow ; three miles are not expected from him who has only two. And the more nearly your circumstances approach to a state of poverty, the greater the opportunity you possess for evincing the noble generosity and force of the Christian principle. It was not the splendid donations of the rich which drew forth the praises of the Son of God, but the more than royal munificence of that indigent widow who gave " all that she had, even all her living." The darker the midnight sky, the more bright and glorious do the stars appear, and the more loudly do the heavens declare the glory of God. And when o2 I ' ■'! IM I / 150 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS the Apostle would excite our admiration by the won* ders of the Christian church, he tells us of ' though avowedly warring with the world, have we not tan ITS WANT Ot LlBERALttY. !57 tdken a wedge of gold, and hidden it in the camp ? If the presence of one Achan wus sufficient to account for the discomfiture of Israel, can we be surprised at the limited nature of our success, when every tribe of our Christian Israel has its Achan, and almost every tent its " accursed thing ?" Has not the cupidity of Christians made the very profession of disinterested benevolence to be laughed at by the world, and to be suspected even among themselves 1 Have not deeds of self-sacrificing liberality, such as would have been looked on in the primitive church as matters of course, l^ecome so rare among Christians, that the man who should perform them now, if he did not actually endanger his reputation, would at least incur the sus- picions of a large proportion of his fellow-professors 1 The spirit of primitive liberality has so far departed from the church, that they would eye him with an astonishment which would prove that, if sympathy be necessary to comprehend his conduct, they must remain in guilty ignorance. Is there not reason to conclude, that many a noble offering has been lost to the cause of Christ, and many an incipient impulse of benevolence repressed, through a dread of that singu- larity which it might seem to affect, as viewed by a selfish eye. One great reason, it has been said, why men practise generosity so little, is, because there are «o few generous persons to stimulate others by their example ; and because (it might have been added) they dreaded the charge of singularity, or ostentation, to which their liberality would have exposed them. And if many a humtm gift has been lost to the cause 14 158 EXCUSES OF COVSTOUSNSSI) I (I i! of Christ owing to this repulsive spirit of cupidity, can we wonder if it has deprived the church of many a divine blessing which would otherwise have been showered on it ? The church has indulged in a selfish and contracted spirit, until it has gone far to disqualify itself for receiving great things, either from God or man^ And, in the same way, the church has incapacitated itself for achieving great things. There is no necessity for supposing an arbitrary withholdment of the divine blessing, or the existence of a judicial sentence, in order to account for its limited usefulness. Indeed, the measure of success which has crowned its endea- vours would discountenance such an ideaj for that success has been granted to the full amount of its labours. It is the limitation of its labours and sacri- fices alone which has restricted its usefulness 5 and the reason of that restriction, is to be found in its sel-» fishness. What Bacon says of the influence of riches on virtue, may be adapted and applied, in the most extensive sense, to their influence on the spirit of tlie Christian enterprise. They have proved the baggage, the impedimenta of the Christian army; for as the baggage is to an army, so is wealth to the Christian enterprise, — it hindereth the march, and the care of it sometimes ioseth or disturbeth the victory. And the variety of A^ays in which it operates to this effect might supply us with an answer to those who may fancy that we are ascribing too much to the influ- ence of wealth, and overlooking other important con- siderations. It is precisely owing to its influence on those other important things-— especially, on the spirit FOR ITS WANT OV LIBBRALITT^ 159 of prayer, and on Christian self-dedication-^that the love of the world acquires its potency of evil. Prayer is its appointed antidote ; but it keeps the Christian from the closet, or else divides his heart with God while there. And as to his high office of appearing before God as a suppliant for the world, an earnest intercessor for his race, it barely allows him time to pray for himself. A clear and steady view of the cross would heal the malady, would cause his heart to swell with the lofty emotion that he is not his own, and impel him to lay himself out for that blessed Saviour whose property he is ; but the malady itself prevents him from beholding the remedy. As if an Israelite had been so wounded as to be unable to see the brazen serpent erected for his cure, the spirit of sel- fishness has partially blinded the Christian to the sight of the cross. It only allows him to see it as in a mist ; an4 so completely does it engross his time, and drive him hither and thither in its service, that he seldom looks at the cross sufficiently long either to see its glory or to feel its power. And might we not appeal to a large number of Christian professors, whether, during tiiose rare moments when they have caught a glimpse of that self-dedication to Christ, which he claims at their hands, a perception at the same time of the sacri- fices and self-denial to which that consecration of themselves would necessarily lead, has not been suffi- cient to make that sight of his claims unwelcome, and induced them to turn their attention in another direc- tion 1 Thus the spirit we are deprecating proves itself to be still entitled to the bad pre-eminence assigned to 160 BZCUSES OF C0VET0V8NB8V it H b}^ the Apostle-— it is « the root of all evil." Like the drankenness which the Demon is said to hav& chosen for his victim, because he knew it would lead to other sins, it is a kind of moral intoxication which never exists alone ; it not on\j robs the cause of Christ of the liberality of his followers, but also of their pray- ers and cordial dedication. But at the same time that this spirit disqualtHes his people for extensive usefulness, it places the ^reat Head of the church himself under a rnoral restraint from employing and blessing them. A covetous com- munity! — how can he consistently employ such to convert the world ; especially, too, as that conversion includes a turning from covetousness ? Not, indeed> that hi'' cause is necessarily dependent for success on our liberality ; and, perliaps, when his people shall be HO far constrained by his love as to place their property at his disposal, he may most convincingly show them that he has never been depenvlent on it, by completing his kingdom without it. But while he chooses to work by means, those means must be in harmony with his own character — and what is that but the very antitliesis of selfishness, infinite benevolence? He regulates those means by laws ; and one of those laws is, that *' from him that halh not shall be talren away even that which he hath ;" that he not only will not employ the covetous, but will deprive him of that which he guiltily withholds from his service. We pray for the coming of the kingdom of Christ ; and wonder, at times, that our heartless, disunited^ inconsistent prayers, are not more successful. Eiit FOR ITS WANT OP LIBERALITY. 161 what do we expect ? Let it be supposed that a con* vocation of all the Christians upon earth should be held, to implore the conversion of the world. How justly might an ancient prophet be sent from God to rebuke them, and say, " The means for the conversion of the world are already in your hands. Had you been dependent on human charity for support, you might have then expected to see youi- Almighty Lord erect his kingdom by miracle ; or, you might have warrant- ably come to his throne to implore the means neccssarj' ibr carrying it on by your own instrumentality. But these means are actually in your hands. You are asking him to do that, the very means for doing which are at this moment locked up in your cofl'ers, or wasted in costly self-gratification. For what purpose has he placed so much wealth in your hands? Surely, not to consume it in self-indulgence. *Is it time for you, O ve, to dwell in vour ceiled houses, and this house to lie waste ? Now, therefore, thus sailh the Lord, consider vour wav's.' Look abroad over your assem])led myriads ; calculate the immense resources of wealth placed at your disposal ; imagine that you were to be seized with a noble generosity, like that which at differ- ent times descended on the ancient people of God, and then say, what enterprise would be too vast for your means ? ' Ye are cursed with a c\irse ; for ye have robbed me, even this whole nation. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heav- en and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be p2 tez BXCUfrES OF C0VBTOU8NE89 a u room enough to receive it.* Make this consecration* of your substance to the cause of Christ ; and then come and ask for the conversion of the world. But, till then, come, rather, to humble yourselves before him for embezzling the property with which he has entrusted you for his cause, and expending it on yourselves^ Come,, and ask him to destroy 'the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life j' and to pour upon his church a spirit of Christian liberality. Till then, ask only, and, in common consistency, ex- pect only, that he will bless you to the amount of your sacrifices for his cause. What I;ie may choose to do more, by an exercise of his sovereignty, is not for you to surmise ; but for you to ask him to do more, is to ask him to proclaim himself to the world the patron of your cupidity." And while we were listening to this righteous rebuke, should we not feel that we were standing before the Lord in our iniquity 1 would not confusion cover us ? . It is recorded, to the high honor of certain ancient believers, that " God was not ashamed to be called their God." And the reason assigned is, that, instead of coveting earthly possessions, or seeking their happi- ness in worldly objects, they placed all they held in the hands of God, lived only for his glory, and "declared plainly that they sought a better country, that is, a heavenly." Of such a people God was not ashamed ; they did not disgrace him in the eyes of the world ; their conduct proclaimed their celestial descent ; he gloried in them j he could point the attention of the world to them with divine complacency j he could FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 169 IS, a entrust his character in their hands ; he could leave the world to infer what he was, from what they were ; he was content to be judged of from the conduct of his people. Could he leave his character to be inferred from the conduct of his people now ? His spirituality — could the world infer that from any remarkable abstraction from earth apparent in their conduct 1 or is ihere any thing in the manner and extent of their lib- erality which would remind the world of his vast, unbounded benevolence? They know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, for their sakes he became poor, that they through his pov- ery might be rich ; — but from what part of their con- duct would the world ever learn this melting truth ? No — in these respects, he is ashamed to be called their God. Their self-indulgence misrepresents his self- sacrifice. Their covetousness is a shame to his bound- less beneficence. His character is falsified by them in the eyes of the world. Nor could he honor them in any distinguished manner before the world, without endorsing and confirming that falsification of his char- acter. He is yearning for the happiness of the perish- ing world ; but such is his divine plan, thai iio has only the instrumentality of his church to work by, and that is so steeped in the spirit of selfishness, that his grace is held under restraint. And even the limited degree in which their selfish- ness has allowed him to bless their agency in his cause, begins to be found inconvenient to that selfish- ness. For what is the most frequent complaint of those who are deputed to manage that agency ! not 164 £XCUSSS OF COVETOUSNESSy &e. that God is withholding his blessing from their proceed- ings, but thaty owing to that blessing, a demand has been created for the gospel which they are unable to supply ; a harvest has been raised which they are unable to reap ; a tract of territory so extensive has been conquered, that, unless the resources placed at their command are greatly augmented, they will not be able to subdue and retain it. There was a time when we thought there was nothing to dread but a want of success — nothing to be prayed for but success. But we did not duly consider the peculiar kind of success which our selfishness required j a cheap and unexpensive success, which should support itself, and which should leave our spirit of cupidity untaxed and undisturbed. We have now, however, begun to discover that success itself, of a certain description, may be attended with the most .serious inconveniences — inconveniences, that is, to selfish Christians ; that we need, in connection with success, a divine preparation to receive, and improve, and enjoy it. Yes, we feel persuaded, that we must liave, and shall have, a change in the church, before we shall witness the renovation of the world ; that the predictions of Scripture concerning the church must be tulfiUed. before those concerning the world shall be accomplished ; that the temperature of Christian piety has yet to be raised many degrees ; that plans will be executed for the diffusion of the gospel, which have not yet been imagined ; that efforts and sacrifices will yet be mado on so gigantic a scale, as to throw the puny doings of the present day completely into the shade. ■ 4 ■ ..,, , 1 PART THE THIRD. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED AND ENFORCED. SECTION I. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. To assert that the cause of Christian liberality ex- hibits no signs of improvement, would only evince insensibility to obvious facts, and ingratitude to the great Head of the church. Even the feeling which has called for " an essay, bearing upon selfishness as it leads us to live to ourselves, and not unto God and our fellow-men," is to be viewed as an indication that many a Christian more than ever deplores that selfish- ness. While the ready assent which is generally accorded to every faithful appeal as to the necessity of increased liberality to the cause of God ; the growing conviction of the church, that, compared with what will be done, we are at present doing nothing; the approbation with which every new expedient for aug- menting the funds of benevolence is hailed ; the streams which appear in almost every new channel of mercy u 166 CHRISTIAN LIBSRALITY EXPtAINSD^ W ' as soon as it is opened ; and the increase of fundii which our great benevolent institutions have almost annually to announce^ — all concur to show, that the church is not only dissatisfied with its past parsimony » but is gradually awaking to the claims of Christian liberality^, But, pleasing as these circumstances arc, it must bo remembered that they are little more than indications of improvement. AH the great defects in the charity of the Christian church remain, with very slight modi- fications, tt is still adapted to a former state of com- parative inactivity, rather than to the present period of Christian enterprise. It waits for impulses and ap- peals. It wants calculation, proportion, and self- denial. It does not keep pace with the growing ilemands of the kingdom of Christ. It wants principle and plan. The great current of Christian property is as yet undiverted from its worldly channel. The scanty rills of charity, which at present water the gar- don of the Lord, and the ingenuity and eflbrt employed to bring them there, compared with the almost undi- minished tide of selfish expenditure which still holds on its oris^inal course, remind one of the slender rivU" lets which the inhabitants of the east raise from a river by merhanical force, to irrigate their thirsty gardens ; the mighty current, meanwhile, without exhibiting any sensible diminution of its waters, sweeping on in its ample and ancient bed to the ocean. By unwearied diligence, the art of acquiring money has been well-nigh brought to perfection. Nor can we think of the thousand ways in which it is squandered CHRISTIAN LIBEiw^UTY EXPLAINED. 167 ■ ly and dissipated by artificial wants and worldly compli- anceS) without deploring that the art of wasting it by the most expeditious methods, should exhibit, as it does, the finish and completeness of a system. The art of using it, so as to make it produce the greatest measure of happiness, still remains to be practised. This, indeed, the gospel alone can teach, and has taught from the beginning. In the early age of the Christian church, the heavenly art of embalming pro- perty, and making it immortal, was not only known but practised ; but, like the process of another embalm* ing, it has now, for ages, been practically lost. Not that its principles have been unknown; these have always presented themselves on the page of truth, in lines of living light. But, though benevolence, has never been unknown as a theory, the perverting influ- ence of a worldly spirit has been rendering it more and more impracticable as an art. So that now, when the obvious application of its principles is pointed out, and the necessity for carrying those principles into practice is daily becoming more urgent, we begin to be aware of the vast distance to which the church has been drifted from the course of its duty by the current of the world, and how difficult it will be to effect a return. As an important preliminary to such a return, it should be our first concern to repair to the living oracles of God, and there, in an humble, devotional spirit, to inquire his will on the subject. This, of itself, would be gaining an important step. It would be proclaiming a wide secession from the world ; for, while the ungodly act and feel as if their property were \i )68 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAIMBCi : absolutely and irresponsibly their own, we should be thus acknowledging that we hold our property from God, and that we feel ourselves bound to consult his will as to the manner of using it. The unreflecting Christian) who is content with appearances and pro-> fessions, no doubt imagines that this distinction be^ tvveen the church and the world exists already. Because he has neard, until the sound has become familiar, that all we have and are belongs to God, and has never heard the proposition contradicted, he fan- cies that, on this point, all is well. But it is precisely because Christians generally have practically repealed this principle, and trampled it under foot, that the spirit of benevolence haa almost been lost from the church. While the practical recognition of this single principle, simple as it is, familiar and admitted as it is in words, would of itbclf produce an unimagined change in favor of evangelical charity. Geologists tell us that were the poles of the earth to be shifted but a few degrees, the ocean would rush tovvardb the new equator, the most solid parts of the globe give way, and the earth assume an aspect entirely new. The soli- tary principle, that we hold our property as subordinate agents for God, were it only felt, embraced, allowed to have unobstructed operation in our practice, would, of itself, be sufficient to break up the present system of selfishness, and to give an entirely new aspect to the cause of benevolence. , Let the Christian reader, then, seek to have this principle wrought into his mind as an ever-present conviction. Let the recollection of his property, and CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 169 lid be r from ult his lectin g d pro- m be- ready, ecome d, and le fan- ecisely jpealed [lat the )m the s single as it is lagined fists tell d but a le new ay, and he soli- vrdinale allowed would, stern of 5t to the ive this present rty, and the idea of f I od as its supreme Owner, stand together in his mind in close and constant union. Let him remember that the supreme Proprietorsliip of his pro- perty is in the hands of God as really as the salvation of his soul is ; and lliat the will of God is law here, as much as in tl^e more spiritual domain of faith. What would iiis conduct be, had he been left the executor of that i)roperty by an earthly friend ? Would he not have been fre(]uently recurring to the will of the testa- tor, that he might not misapply the least fraction ? His supreme Friend has given him the use of certain pro- perty, accompanying the grant with a specification of his icill concerning its application. Nothing but an humble, grateful, obedient heart is necessary in study- ing that will, in order to find that it descends to rules, limitations, and (Urections of the most clear and minute description. And it is only by keeping these require- ments constantly open before him, and returning to study them daily in that spirit, that the Christian can escape the danger of appropriating and misapplying! that which bcloiig^ lo his Lord and Master. Li the scheme of evangelical charity, iho principle which actuates the giver is of paramount importance. " He lliat giveth, let him do it with simplicity." The gospel rejects alike the tax which is reluctantly paid by fear, the l)ribe which is given to silence importunity, the sacrifice which is oficred to a vain ostentiition, and the price which is intended to purchase a place in the divine favour, or as a ground of justification befone God. The only oflering which it accepts is that which originates in a principle of love and obedience to IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ >< :^ 1.0 2f IS4 "^ 1.1 us IB 14.0 12.0 |y5,u 1^ ^ 6" - » 9 /i 7] '■T f^otographic Sciences Corporation \ 5V <> iV^ 23 WIST MAIN STRIET WnSTIR,N.Y. 14SS0 (716) •73 4S03 \ t /. .^-Ai^ 170 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. :i 1 Christ, and which hopes and asks for divine accept- ance through him alone. It takes the Christian to the cross, and there it aims to touch all that is tender and generous in his nature, while it says, " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich." And having made its appeal at the cross, having provided and plied him with the grand motive of redeeming love, it will accept nothing which overlooks the constraining influence of that principle. Familiarity with large sums of money may lead a person to make benefactions as munificent as the heart of charity could wish. Animal generosity may act the donor v«dth all the promptitude and easy grace of Charity herself. But " though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, , , , , and have no charity, it profiteth me nothing." The absence of evangelical love is the want of the incense which alone could impart to the sacrifice a sweet-smelling savor unto God. And wb'Je its absence would reduce the collected gifts of a nation to penury itself, its presence imparts to a widow's mite a value which God appreciates, and by which heaven is enriched. It turns " a cup of cold water" into a sacramental symb'^l ; for it is given *' in remembrance of Christ." Suspended from the throne of heaven, it transm.utes the least gift that may be hung on it into a jewel destined to augment the glory of him on whose head are " many crowns." That which constitutes the superiority of evangelical piety, as a self-propagating and diffusive system, to •wl CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 171 « in every form of false and heterodox religion is, that it has for its great actuating principle the love of Christ. This is "the seed in itself j" the leaven which shall never cease to ferment till it has leavened the entire mass of humanity. Hence, every thing which would obtain acceptance with God must exhibit marks of the assimilating and sanctifying power of this principle. Nay, every thing which would find favour in the eyes of the Christian himself, even his own acts and ofier- ings of charily, must bear evident relation to Christ, or receive the condemnation of his own grateful heart. In the exercise of a holy jealousy for his blessed Lord, he is led to scrutinize his motives, to trace his benevo- lence to its source, to examine whether or not it took its rise at the cross ; and, if it did not, he finds cause for penitence and humiliation before God. Thus, while false religion makes his alms-deeds a substitute for piety, the gospel heightens benevolence into one of the most spiritual and improving duties the Christian can perform. For, by imbuing his heart with the love of God, it enables him to taste the godlike enjoyment of doing good ; and, by teaching him to refer all his acts of benevolence to Christ, to perform them as expressions of gratitude to him, to hope for their acceptance through him, and to pray that tb3y may tend to his glory, it keeps him near to the cross, in an atmosphere of spiritual and elevated piety. And when once he has become native to that element, when the expansive, delightful, irresistible power of the Saviour's grace has become his ruling motive, he would feel an inferior principle to be little less than degradation and .^r 172 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. hf J ■ h i [| bondage. He accounts the costliest sacrifice he can offer as poor ; resents the limits which a cold and cal- culating selfishness would impose on his offerings as chains and fetters ; and if called to pour forth his blood as a libation on the altar of Christian sacrifice, he would feel that he had rendered an ample explanation of his conduct, by saying, with the apostle, " The love of Christ constrainetl; us." In order that our benevolence may become a valu- able habit, it must be provided with regular resources. Nothing good or great can be effected without ^Za?i. In their own worldly business, men perceive the import- ance of method ; and, if they would render their liber- ality efficient, they must adopt a system for that also. On this subject the gospel itself prescribes, — " Upon the first day of the week, let every one of you lay by him in store as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come." "By which," saith Paley, " I understand St. Paul to recommend what is the very thing wanting with most men, the being charitable upon a plan ; that is, upon a deliberate comparison of our fortunes with the reasonable expen- ses and expectations of our families, to compute what we can spare, and to lay by so much for charitable pui'poses." To take, indeed, a weekly account how God hath prospered us, is not in all cases possible ; but the spirit of the direction would be equally satisfied if, on taking the account at other stated times, we only lay by for God as he hath prospered us. Owing to the want of a plan like this, the cause of Christ is often an unwel- CHRtSTIAN LIBfiRALITr EXPLAmSD. 173 he can and cal- irings as lis blood Bee, he lanation ?he love a valii- sources. }lan. In import- jir liber- hat also. -« Upon u lay by there be " saith what is being liberate expen- te what aritable od hath le spirit taking by for int of a unwel- come and an Unsuccessful applicant; — selfishness, which has always the advantage of being able to be the first claimant, squanders in superfluities what con- science would have devoted to God ; and many, it is to be feared, from not having wherewith to answer the t:al]s and impulses of charity, as they arose in the heart, have at length lost the very disposition to do good. While the advantages arising from the adoption of such an arrangement are numerous, we are under less temp- tation to withhold our charity ; our duty is made more convenient by rendering it thus in easy instalments j our love to Christ is more gratified by being able to present him in the end with a larger offering ; the hand of God is regularly recognised in our worldly affairs ; his pre- sence is invited, so to speak, into the very heart of our prosperity, whence the world is most anxious to exclude him, invited to audit the accounts of our gains ; our offerings are presented with cheerfulness, because they come from a fund designed expressly to no other end than charity ; and the cause of benevolence, no longer a dependant on precarious charity, is welcomed and honored as an authorized claimant, a divine credi- tor, while what we retain for our own use is divinely blessed by the dedication of the rest to God. Nothing that is good or great, we repeat, can be effected without plan. Business, to be successful, must be conducted on system ; and why should not the book which records the occasional and the regular contributions of (iharity be kept and inspected as care- fully as the ledger of trade 1 Covetousness plans for selfish purposes; and why should not benevolence q2 !'■ m CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. i ■/l N counter-plan, and organize its resources for objects of divine philanthropy 1 Political economy plans for national purposes ; and why should there not be an ecclesiastical economy to systematize the resources of that kingdom which is not of this world? We desire not a revival of sumptuary laws to restrain extrava- gance in diet and dress, but a tax self-levied on all the luxuries and indulgences of life. We ask not for an inquisitorial Roman census, but for a conscientious assessment of all the property of the Christian church, 80 scrupulously made and regularly repeated, that, like that ancient republic, we may have accurate returns, from time to time, of all the statistics of the Christian empire, and may know our resources for w^r with the kingdom of darkness. But what proportion of our income ought we to devote to charitable uses ? If Christian love be per- mitted to answer this question, and assign the amount, there is no reason to fear a too scanty allowance. On the other hand, if selfishness be suffered to decide, there is ground to fear that even an inspired reply, could such be obtained, would be heard only to be overruled. Besides which, the gospel of Christ, in harmony with its great design of establishing a reign of love, leaves its followers to assess themselves. It puts into their hands, indeed, a claim upon their property, but leaves the question kow much ? to be determined by themselves. In assisting them to fill up the blank with the proper assessment, the only step which it takes is to point them to the cross of Christ ; and, while their eye is fixed there in admiring love, to say, CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED.' 175 ejects of (lans for )t be an mrces of iTe desire extra va- >n all the lOt for an cientious L church, that, like returns, Christian with the it we to 3 be per- amount, ce. On ) decide, d reply, ly to be hrist, in reign of It puts )roperty, ermined le blank i^hich it 3t; and, to say, "How much owest thou unto thy Lord 1" "Freely ye have received, freely give." It must be quite unnecessary to remind the Christian that a principle of justice to man must be laid as the basis of all our calculations on this subject. " For I the Lord love judgment, I hate robbery for burnt- offaring." To present him with that which his own\ laws of justice would assign to another, is to overlook • the claims of even ordinary honesty, and to make him the Patron of unrighteousness. But, while the world- ling looks on justice as the only claimant on his pro- perty, and concludes that when that is satisfied, he may warrantably sacrifice the whole remainder to himself, the Christian views it only as a preparation for sacrificing to God. It is observable that Abraham and Jacob, on par- ticular occasions, voluntarily devoted to God — what afterwards became a divine law for the Jewish nation, — a tenth of their property. Without implying that their example has any obligation on us, we may ven- ture to say that one tenth of our whole income is an approved proportion for charity, for those who, with so doing, are able to support themselves and families. For the more opulent, and especially for those who have no families, a larger proportion would be equally easy. For some, one half would be too little j while, for others, a twentieth, or even a fiftieth, would require the nicest frugality and care. Indeed, of many among the poor it may be said, that if they give any thing they give their share, they cast in n^ore than all their brethren. I • f 'it R i il f 176 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. But, in determining the proportion to be made sacred to God, the Christian would surely rather exceed than fall short of the exact amount. With whom is he stipulating 1 For whom is he preparing the offering ? Well may the recollection put every covetous thought to instant flight ; tinging his cheek with shame at the bare possibilitv of ingratitude ; and impelling him to lay his all at the feet of Christ. Only let him think of the great love wherewith Christ hath loved him — only let him pass by the cross on his way to the altar of oblation, and his richest offering will appear totally unworthy of divine acceptance. When Christ is the object to be honored, the affection of the pardoned penitent cannot stop to calculate the value of its^'ala- baster box of precious ointment — that is an act to which only a Judas can stoop — its chief and sole regret is that the unction has not a richer perfume, and a higher value. When a Zaccheus finds himself stand- ing, a sinner saved by grace, in the presence of the Being who has saved him, he exclaims, "Behold, Lord, the half of ray goods I give to the poor ; and if I have wronged any man by false accusation, I restore unto him four-fold." Covetousness, a moment before, was enthroned in his heart ; but now it is beneath his feet. A moment ago, wealth was his idol : but now its only value consists in furnishing him with an offer- ing of love to Christ. What things were gain to him, those he counted loss for Christ. And as the great principle of love to Christ will not allow the more opulent to give scantily, so neither will it permit the poorest to come before him empty. It ! CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 177 It was one of the divine enactments even of the legal dispensation — J^one shall come before me empty. But that which was matter of law with the Israelite, the Christian will seize as a golden opportunity for evinc- ing his love to Christ ; and will bring, though it be only a grain of incense for an offering, or a leaf for that ' wreath of praise and honor which the church delights to lay at the feet of Christ. Whatever Scripture example others may profess to copy, he will select the example of the benevolent widow ; and, while others content themselves with only admiring it, he will often reflect on its imitableness. Nor will the language of the apostle be ever heard by him but as an address to himself — " Let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth." " These hands have ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me. I have showed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words , of the Lord Jesus, how he said. It is more blessed to give than to receive." Agreeably with these senti- ments, the man who, at one time, imagined that his poverty quite exempted him from the obligations of charity, and only rendered him an object of it, is no sooner made the partaker of grace, than h j feels him- self impelled to place some offering on the altar of Christian benevolence ; and, v^'ith the ready eye and hand of affection, he soon detectr,, for this end, some small superfluity which can be retrenched, or some leisure time which can be profitably employed. And when his mite-like offering, the fruit of hard self-denial, ^(1' 178 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. I I 1 or the sweat of his brow, is presented, nothing could inflict on his grateful heart a deeper wound than to see that ofTering rejected on the ground of its comparative insignificance, or of his supposed inability to give it. It is the offering of a sinner's gratitude to a Saviour's love, and Heaven rejoices over the oblation. A well-digested scheme of charity will be considerate in the selection of its objects. The benevolence which has not prudence for its almoner, may create the evils which it meant to destroy. If there be any danger in this respect, in the present day, it does not lie so much in the choice of wrong objects, as in the neglect of some right ones. The principles of benevolent institutions are now so well understood ; every new candidate for patronage is so open to inspection ; and the streams of charity so steadily watched from their rise to the point of their destination, that there is little more than the bare possibility of any benevolent institution existing long in a state of abuse, or so as to generate more evil than good. Whatever danger now exists, arises from the rapid multiplication of new objects, and the consequent liability of the old ones to desertion ; and still more, perhaps, from the liability of those minor objects which relate exclusively to the bodily welfare of man being eclipsed by the surpassing grandeur and magnitude of such as relate to the infinite and the eternal. If, fifty years ago, a patron of the benevolent institu- tions of that day could have been foretold of the num- ber, the magnitude, and the revenues of the great evangelical societies which at present adorn our land. zn. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 179 hing could han to see tmparative to give it. Saviour's onsiderate nee which ) the evils he present of vs^rong les. The V so well age is so harity so t of their the bare ig long in evil than from the )nsequent till more, :ts which lan being ^itude of it institu- he num- he great our land, he might surely have been excused for fearing that the objects of his regard would in consequence be dis- placed and forgotten. But the event has shown that his fears would have been unfounded. Experience demonstrates that the heart which responds to the cries of a world perishing through lack of knowledge, is the heart which most readily thrills at the cry of bodily want ; that those who care most for the souls of the heathen, are among the most active agents of patrio- tic and local charities ; that genuine Christian charity, while it leaves no object unattempted on account of its vastiiess, overlooks none on account of its minuteness. Copying, in this respect, the example of Him who in his way to the cross, to save a world, often stood still to give health to the sick, and to wipe away the tears of the mourner; sowing, at each step, the seeds of those various institutions of mercy which are still springing up in his church ; and who, while suspended on the cross in the crisis of human redemption, still thought of his filial relation, and tenderly provided for a mother's comfort. But the limited resources of the Christian philanthro- pist, compared with the niunber and diversity of the objects soliciting his aid, render selection indispensably necessary. On the one hand, he must not confine his regards to objects purely religious, though of the loftiest and most comprehensive order, to the neglect of that charity which draws out its soul to the hungry, and which visits the fatherless and widow in their afflic- tion ; and, on the other, he must not limit his attentions to the wants of the life that now is, and remain an p 180 CHRISTT*N LIBERALITT EXPLAINED. /I '; I !'■ [ti i \ n uninterested spectator of the efforts which are made around him to save a world from perdition. The two classes of objects should be combined in his regards. By descending to the one class, he will be keeping his benevolent feelings in a healthy, active, vigorous state ; and by ascending to the other, he will be giving them scope and expansion, diffusing and multiplying them over the whole field of mercy. By a wise distribution of his means he may connect him- self with all the objects of beneficence, from the casual relief of the mendicant, to the combined, systematic, and mighty project of the Christian church to make the Bible the book of the world. And as he marks the graduated scale of Christian charities which stands between these two extremes, he will conscientiously consider which are the charities that call for his especial aid, and the proportion of support which each demands. But who does not feel that the era of effective Chris- tian benevolence has yet to commence"? Let him sketch the most simple scheme of benevolence which the gospel can approve, and he will perceive at every step that he is writing the condemnation of the church. Compared with the time, indeed, when next to nothing was contributed to the cause of Christ, we may now be said to give much ; but compared with what ought to be, and with what we are persuaded will be, con- secrated to God, we are still contributing next to nothing* The sentiment of the church on the subject of property is as yet very little elevated above that of the world ; deep-rooted worldly notions have yet to be ). CHRISTIAN LIBBRALIT7 EXPLAINED. 181 are made on. The 3(1 in his 16 will be ly, active, jr, he will fusing and ercy. By nect him- the casual 5ystematic, h to make marks the ch stands cientiously ill for his .rhich each live Chris- Let him nee which e at every le church, to nothing may now lat ought be, con- next to he subject >ve that of yet to be eradicated ; and the right use of wealth in its relation to the cause of Christ to be taught and enforced as an essential branch of Christian practice. The great lesson taught by our Lord's voluntary selection of a state of poverty is yet to be fully understood ; the evi- dent application of many plain passages of Scripiure to be made ; doctrines startling to selfishness to become familiar and welcome ; sentiments already familiar to be enlarged and practically applied ; the word benevo- lence itself to be diiferently understood ; the demon of covetousness to be cast out of the church ; and the whole economy of benevolence to be revised. And who, with the word of God in his hand, but must feel that an era of enlarged Christian liberality is hastening onl Prophecy is full of it. As often almost as she opens her lips on the subject of Mes- siah's reign, the consecration of the world's wealth forms part of her song. " To him shall be given of the gold of Sheba." " The merchandise of Tyre shall be holiness to the Lord \ it shall not be treasured nor laid up." " Surely the isles shall wait for me, and the ships of Tarshish first, to bring thy sons from far, their silver and their gold with them, unto the name of the Lord thy God." "Kings shall bring presents unto him ;" " they shall bring gold and incense ;" and into his kingdom " they shall bring the glory and honor of the nations." Wealth, which for so many ages had robbed him of his glory, and which in so many idola- trous forms had been erected in his stead, shall be brought to his altar, and employed as the fuel of a sacrifice in which the heart shall ascend as incense R Wf if i M. 182 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINlBD. before him. It will then be felt that the highest use ta which wealth can be applied is to employ it for God : that this is the only way to dignify that which is intrin- sically mean; to turn that which is perishing into unfading crowns and imperishable wealth. As if the image and superscription of Christ instead of Caesar — as if the hallowed impress of the cross itself were visible on all the currency of earth, his people shall look on all their wealth as the property of Christ, and be constantly meditating the means of employing it most advantageously for his glory. In wedding his church, it shall then be felt that he wedded her wealth also ; and, in bringing it forth, and placing it at his feet as a part of her poor unworthy dowry, she shall wish that for his sake it had been ten thousand times ten thousand more. Now, the only distinction is between him that gives a little, and him that gives nothing ; then, a new classi- fication will have obtained. There will be no one in the church who gives nothing ; his place will be occu- pied by him who only gives little — by which will be meant him who, whatever the amount of his gift may be, gives only from his superfluity ; while the honora- ble title of the benevolent will be reserved for such only as deny themselves in order that they may give the more. Self-denial, if not synonymous with benevo- lence, will then be considered an essential part of it. He who gives nothing will be looked on as an avowed enemy to the cause of Christ : he who only gives a little from his superfluity will be considered covetous ; and he only who adds to his superfluity the precious •;.] rJ 1. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 183 »8t use to for God : is intrin- [ling into ^.s if the Caesar — elf were pie shall rist, and loying it ding his )v wealth t his feet ball wish times ten aat gives iv classi- 10 one in be occu- will be gift may honora- uch only give the benevo- >art of it. avowed r gives a >vetous ; precious il savings of self-denial besides, will be honored as truly charitable. The Christian will then look on himself in the light of a channel between God and his fellow-creatures — a channel prepared expressly for leceiving and convey- ing the overflowings of the Fountain of goodness to those around him ; and accordingly he will be " ready to distribute, willing to communicate." Not content with the slender supplies of his own property, he will seek to excite the liberality of others ; to become their almoner ; to swell the streams of his own charity by the contributions of others. And thus he will at once be the means of keeping the benevolence of his breth- ren in activity, of bringing greater glory to God, and of doing greater good to the world. The Christian parent will not then be content with teaching his children the art of getting money most easily and respectably, or of spending it most advan- tageously to themselves : he will train them to habits of benevolence ; impress them early with " the value of money" for the cause of Christ ; show them that in its subserviency to that cause consists its chief value ; that they should labour with their hands, rather than be destitute of the m.eans of giving. He will make it an indispensable object of their education to render them proficients in the art of employing their substance to the glory of God. As far as his means enable him, he will pray only to give, and give only to pray. His every prayer will contain a petition for a more abundant outpouring of the spirit of Christian liberality and dedication ; and the 'i;f 184 CHRISTIAN LIBBRALITT EXP^LAINED. :f4 '. very feeling which impelled him to utter the petition^ shall impel him, when he rises from his knees, to devise liberal things. And then, having gratified the divine impulse to the utmost extent of his means, he will hasten to unload his grateful heart before God, and to say, " Who am I, that I should be able tc offer so willingly after this sort? for all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." Nay, could he command and set in motion all the benevolent agencies in the universe, the same godlike motive which led him to do so would then impel him to the throne of God to obtain his efficacious blessing upon the whole. Having put all human agency in requi- sition, he would labour and wrestle in prayer to engage the infinite love and power of God. He will receive every Siccredited applicant for the cause of Christ, as a messenger deputed from Christ himself. And, as if his blessed Lord were standing before him, and saying, *' 1 am hungry, will you not feed me ? I am thirsty, will you not give me drink ? I am a stranger, will you not take me in ? My cause is languishing for want of support, will you not aid it?" — he will hasten to bring forth his all, and say, " O Lord my God, all this store coraeth of thine hand, and is all thine own." In doing this, indeed, he would only be copying the example of the benevolent widow ; but though that example received the sanction of Christ, and as such was intended to be more than admired by his church, yet who could imitate it at present without incurring, not from the world only, but from the great majority of Christian professors also, the ». CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT EXPLAINED. 185 I petition^ knees, to tified the leans, he E>re God, le tc offer 5 of thee, ly, could jnevolent 3 motive im to the sing upon in requi- to engage t for the m Christ standing you not le drink ? ly cause aid it r say, « O md, and e would widow ; ction of 7re than ite it at >nly, bnt also, the i blame of great improvidence 1 But, then, her conduct shall be regarded as exemplary; and the Saviour himself will undertake the defence of her imitators, and say, "They loved much, for they have much forgiven." Now, the Christian professor too commonly allows his regular contribution to check his liberality, to pre- vent his gHing more than the stipulated sum, though there are times when his benevolent impulses would prompt him to exceed that sum ; then he will regard his subscription only as a pledge that he will not give less, but as leaving his liberality open to all the impul- ses of an unrestricted benevolence. Now, he is too often disposed to shun the applications for charity, and, if he is overlooked and passed by, to view it as a for- tunate escape ; bui then he will do good as he hath opportunity — creating the opportunity which he cannot find already made to his hands. Now, his ability exceeds his inclination ; but then his inclination will be greater than his ability j like the Macedonian Chris- tians of whom the apostle testifies, "I bear them record that to their power, yea, and beyond their pow- er, they were willing of themselves." Instead of being charitable only on comparative distraint, he will often anticipate application, and surprise the agents of bene- ficence by* unexpected gifts; thus strengthening their faith in God, and inciting them to enlarge their designs for the kingdom of Christ, like the same believers of whom the apostle records, that, instead of needing to be solicited, they entreated him to accept their contribu- tions—" praying us with much entreaty to accept the r2 !, ir 186 CHfiiSTUir LnseRALxrr sxplaiitkit. gift." Like the happy parent of a happy family, he will hail every new-born claim on his resources, and cheerfully deny himself in order to support it. And instead of giving, as he now does, as scantily as if he only aimed to keep the Christian cause from famishing, he will then act on the persuasion that his own enjoy- ment is identified with its growth and prosperity. And let it not be supposed that during that happy period it will be necessary to the support of the Chris- tian interest that its friends should live in a state of comfortless self-denial. The prevalence of the bene- volent spirit will render this superfluous. When the thousand drains of selfishness are cut off, the cause of Christ will easily find an abundance from his friends, and will leave an abundance to them all. When every man brings his all to Christ, every man will be able to take away with him again an ample supply for his most comfortable subsistence. When every fresh convert to Christ becomes a willing supporter of his interest, the acce^ion of numbers wilt increase its supplies more rapidly than its wanU. 0, happy period ! Holiness to the Lord shall be written not only on common things, but on those which men have been accustomed most jealously to withhold from God, and to consider their own. Even the mines of the earth shall, in & sense, be ceded to Christ ; << the God of the whole earth shall he be called;" and « every one shall submit themselves unto him with pieces of silver." He shall be considered the wise man, not who keeps most, but gives most to God ; and the happiness of bestowing shall be rated above the \ CHRISTIAN LIBSRALITT EXPLAINED. 187 mily, he rces, and t. And as if he imishing, m enjoy- ty. at happy le Chris- a state of he bene- Vhen the cause of s friends, len every le able to ¥ for his ry fresh er of his rease its shall be je which mthhold le mines "the and m with 16 wise od; and >9ve Uie i pleasure of acquiring. Happy period! when men, instead of making gold their god, shall make God their gold ; and when the principles of benevolence shall be looked on as a science taught from heaven, the prac- tice of which is necessary to conduct them to heaven. The living law of benevolence written in the heart will operate more powerfully than all the sumptuary laws which were ever enacted to restrain the extravagance of society. The cause of Christ will be viewed as the only safe repository of wealth ; as the great interest in which the affluent will invest their abundance, and in which the poor will deposit their mite, assured that it will thus augment to a treasure exceeding their pow • ers of computation. And wealth, the pernicious influence of which some of the wisest of men have feared so much that they have prohibited the use of it by law, — wealth, the great embroiler and corrupter of the world, will be employed as one of the leading means of restoring mankind to union and happiness } and thus Christ will triumph over the enemy in its own home, and with its own weapons. 1 188 "iMff^lM^' i\' ii v^x 9i ^1 lii ■ } ' V ■ 1 SECTION II. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. And why should the delightful period to which we have adverted, when the gospel theory of Christian benevolence shall be realized, be deemed remote? The duties of that period, are the duties of every period ; and, therefore, of the present. The obligations which will be binding then are binding at this moment. No new incitements to benevolence will be furnished from heaven. The great considerations with which the gospel has long since made us familiar, are the identical motives which will then reign and triumph. Remote, therefore, as that era may be to the eye of the indolent and the selfish, the consistent believer will not think of waiting for its arrival before he begins its duties ; he will feel that those duties are all present and urgent. May a review of the tender and weighty con- siderations by which they are enforced fill him with generous and grateful purposes, such as he never felt before ; and may God, the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of love and grace, condescend to breathe on him the breath of a new life, that he may henceforth live only to carry those purposes into effect to the glory of Christ his Redeemer! In every question of duty, your first enquiry. Chris- tian reader, will naturally respect the will of God. Before listening to any other consideration, you will CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 189 which we ' Christian i remote? ; of every obligations 3 moment. I furnished ith which ir, are the 1 triumph. eye of the er will not begins its esent and ighty con- hira with never felt Spirit of him the live only of Christ y, Chris- of God. you will lift up an imploring eye, and say, <' Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" Now, there is no subject on which God has more clearly or fully revealed his will, than on the duty of Christian liberality. Think of the right which he has in all you possess. There is a sense in which no man can be said to pos- sess an exclusive and irresponsible right in property, even in relation to his fellow-creatures. The land which he calls his own, is still guarded and watched over by a public law, which would hold him responsi- ble for its destruction. But if man thus claims a common interest in the most independent description of property, how much more does God hold a right in your possessions ? He created them at first ; and hence he has an original and supreme property in them. The world is his, and the fulness thereof. He continues them in existence every moment ; and is thus every moment asserting afresh his original right, and establishing a new title to dominion over them. You have not brought into existence a single mite : all that you have done is to collect together what he had made ready to your hands. And whence did you derive the skill and ability to do this ? " Thou must remember the Lord thy God, for it is he that giveth thee power to get wealth." Hence he cautions you against the sin of saying in your heart, " My power, and the might of mine own hand, hath gotten, me this wealth," lest you should fall into the conseouent sin of forgetting that he is still the supreme Proprietor of all you pos- sess. And hence, too, he solemnly reminds you that your enjoyments are his gifts, only in the sense that I' t 190 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. li , f:U you had nothing wherewith to purchase them, and not in the sense that he has given away his right in vhem : that they are deposited with you as his steward, not alienated from him and vested in you as their master ; that both they and you are his to do with as seemetfi good in his sight. The moment you lose sight, therefore, of his abso- lute right to all you possess, you are embezzling your Lord's property, and realizing the character of the un- just steward. You are provoking God to resume his own, and to transfer it to more faithful hands. Where- as he looks to you to assert his dominion in the midst of an ungrateful and rebellious world. The purpose for which he created you at first, and for which he has created you anew in Christ Jesus, is, that you might show forth his praise before a world labouring to forget him ; that while they are sullenly and impiously appro- priating every thing to themselves, as if he had ceased to reign, and even to exist, you might continually con- secrate and offer up your substance before their eyes as an oblation to his glory, and thus daily vindicate his claims, as the fire perpetually burning upon the Jewish altar protested daily against the idolatry of the world, and proclaimed the one living and true God. And will you not do this 1 Surely you will not go over and join the party you are i»^itended to condemn. Surely you will not betray your Lord, and enable his enemies to triumph. Then hasten to his throne and acknowledge his right. Take all that you have into his presence, and dedicate it afresh to his service. Inscribe his blessed name on all your possessions. I. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT ENFORCED. 191 1, and not : in vhem : ivard, not ir master ; 5 seemetti his abso- zling your )f the un- ssume his . Where- the midst urpose for ;h he has ^ou might ; to forget sly appro- ad ceased ally con- ir eyes as licate his e Jewish le world, And will and join I rely you lemies to lowledge )resence, mhe his Think of the great goodness you enjoy at his hands. His tender mercies are over all his works ; but how many of those mercies has he caused to meet upon your head 1 " He daily loadeth you with his bene- fits ;" and will you bear them all away from his pre- sence to consume them upon yourself? — will you distribute none of the precious load among the numer- ous applicants he has placed around you ? " He crowneth thee with his loving-kindness and tender mercies ;" and, wearing the crown of his royal favor, his sovereign love, will you confine its light to your- self? will you not proclaim and honor the royalty of your descent by humbly imitating his regal munificence and grace? He has placed you in a world of which his own descriptioi: is, that it is full of goodness — the treasury of the material universe. Men have filled it with sin : but he, notwithstanding, keeps it filled with his goodness. The overflowing fulness of the ocean — the amplitude of the all-encompassing air — the uncon- fined plenitude of the light — all conspire to attest the infinite exuberance of his bounty, and to surcharge your heart with corresponding sentiments of goodness. To be selfish in such a world, is one of the greatest triumphs of sin. Covetousness cannot move in it without being rebuked at everj- step. Had your life been spent till to-day in the solitude and darkness of a dungeon, and had you now just come forth into the open theatre of the vast creation, and awoke for the first time to the full consciousness of all this infinite goodness, would not your heart enlarge and expand with all warm and generous emotions? Could you I ■ 192 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT ENFORC£fi. I r^ r / ■ w 1: Ik ^ 1, I speedily indulge in selfishness in a world which you found supported by charity 1 and by charity so abun- dant that the divine Donor seems to have aimed to make the sin impossible? His rain would surely baptize you with the spirit of love: his sun would melt you into kindness. This is why he sheds them both upon the just and the unjust. And will you not aspire to be like him 1 Will you not become the ser- vant of his love to his creatures? Can you live day after day in this region of his goodness — can you have the ennobling conception of his goodness occupying your mind year after year — can you actually call yourself a son of this good and gracious God, an heir of his infinite goodness, and yet retain a narrow, selfish, and contracted mind ? The Lord Jesus himself calls on you to be merciful even as your Father in heaven is merciful. But hitherto we have been standing only on the threshold of the temple of his goodness. The great display, the " unspeakable gift," remains within. Your misery as a sinner had excited his compassion ; your guilt demanded a sacrifice ; your spiritual destitution had nothing to offer. Approach the altar of sacrifice, and behold the substitute which his grace provides. "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son." " Herein is love !" The universe is crowded with proofs of his beneficence ; but here is a proof which outweighs them all. How much he loved us we can never compute 5 we have no line with which to fathom, no standard with which to compare it ; but he so loved us that he sent his only begotten CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT ENFORCED. 393 hich you BO abun« aimed to id surely m would leds them 1 you not B the ser- live day you have ►ccupying ' lally call I, an heir narrow, IS himself ather in f on the 'he great lin. Your on ; your estitution sacrifice, provides, his only diverse is here is a much he line with compare begotten Son to be the propitiation for our sins. <* Herein is love!" "Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable «tft." And while you are standing in the presence of this matchless display of love, " what doth the Lord require of thee ?" For yourself, he invites you to accept that love and be happy. And in relation to your fellow-men, he only requires that the stream of gratitude which his great love has drawn from your heart should be poured into that channel in which a tide of mercy is rolling through the world, and bearing blessings to the nations. He who for your sake gave his Son, asks you for his sake to give of your worldly substance to the cause of human happiness. He asks you. Christian, to cast in your mite into that treasury into which he hath given his Son, and poured all the blessings of his grace. Nor is this all ; he invites you to advance from the altar of sacrifice to the holiest of all, within the veil ; in other words, he hath given you Christ, that he may give you himself. It was by wandering from him that man first became selfish and unhappy. It was by losing him that man was reduced to the necessity of looking for happiness in the creature. And, because no single kind of created good can satisfy the soul, man sought to accumulate all kinds, to monopolize every thing — he became selfish. He is disposed to look on every thing which another enjoys, as so much lost to himself — as so much taken away from what might •otherwise have fallen to his own share ; and thus he is selfish. But the blessed God, by offering to bring you s 194 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT INFORCED* 'V i (, I t I i 1 1 back again to himeelf, isoffering to make |'0u indepen^^ dent of all inferior things ] to put you in possession of a good which shall enable you to look down with disdain on those things about which others are selfish ; to lead you to an infinite good; a good, therefore, about which you need not be selfish ; for were all the universe to share and enjoy it with you, it would still be an unexhausted, infinite fulness of happiness. Now, let the most miserly individual come suddenly into the possession of great woallh, he would be con- scious, at least for a short time, of kind and generous emotions. What, then, should be your emotions at discovering that, through Christ, you have found a God ? and think, what a God he is ! Enumerate his perfections; call up in your mind his exalted attri- butes ; recollect some of the displays of his glory, the splendours of his throne, the amplitude of his domin- ions, the angelic orders of his kingdom, the richness of his gifts, the untouched ocean of happiness yet in reserve for his people — and when your mind is filled, repeat to yourself the wondrous truth, "This God is rtiy God forever and ever." And, then, think what it iS to have him for your God: it is to have a real, partici- pating, eternal interest in all that he is ; to have him for your " all in all ;" to be " filled with all the fulness of God." Christian, are y*^" "ware of your wealth? have you yet awoke to a conscious possession of your infinite wealth 1 and is it possible that you still cleave to the poor and perishing dross of earth ? What, shall the accession of infinite wealth make no difference in your .1 CHRISTIAN LIBIRALITV EMFORCBD, 195 I indepen-^ isession of >wn with re selfish ; therefore, 3re all the yould still ess. suddenly d be con- generous lotions at found a nerate his Ited attri- glory, the is domin- chness of ss yet in 1 is filled, jod is rtiy lat it is to I, partici- lave him le fulness have vou ur infinite ve to the shall the e in your conduct? Will you be as covetous with a God as without ? Do you not ieel, rather, that you could give away the world itself as a trifle, while you stand and gaze at these infinite riches ? All who have truly and fully returned to God have felt thus. They lost their selfishness. They gazed on this glory, and the world was eclipsed ; they thought of it, and their hearts became too large for earth ; they reached after it, and the world fell from their hands, from their hearts. Having found the true source of happiness, they would fain have had all mankind to come and share it with them. And when he commanded them to call the world to come to him and be happy, they gave away every thing, even life itself, in the noble employ, and from love to his name. The obligations which his love has laid you under are as great as theirs. But how much less, it is to be feared, have you felt them. And yet they felt them less than their magnitude would have warranted. For when their emancipated spirits had ascended from th& scene of martyrdom to heaven, — when they there awoke to a clear perception of the hell they had escaped, %nd the glories they had reached,— even he among them who on earth had been most alive to a sense of his obligations, would feel as if he then felt them for tlie first time. And is all that weight of obligation at this moment resting upon you? O, where are the numbers which shall compute it? What is the period long enough to recount it ? " What can you render unto the Lord for all his benefits V^ What sacrifices can you devise costly enough to it ).i rl It ii W( ^i \ I ■^f Mi 196 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. express your sense of them 1 Chiistian, could yow have supposed that your property would be accepted as one of those sacrifices ? Had he not condescended to invite the offering, could you have imagined that any amount or any employment of earthly wealth, would have been accepted by him 1 It is one of the luwcu* expressions of love you can give ; yet he accepts even that. Though there is no proportion whatever between the debt you owe him, and all the wealth of the world, he yet condescends to regard the smallest fraction of that wealth as an expression of your love to his name. Let this, then, dignify wealth in your eyes : value it henceforth on this account, that the Lord will accept it at ^our hands as an offering of love. Rejoice that you have found out an oblation which he will accept short of the sacrifice of your life. Be thankful, though you may have but little with which to present him. Practise self-denial, that you may make that little more. Seek out the right objects for it, — ^the objects which you deem to be the dearest in his sight. Give to them all you can ; for, could you give ten thousand times more, your obligations would go on increasing, infinitely faster than your gifts. They are multiplying on you, even while you are in the act of giving. Give under a grateful sense of your obliga- tions ; and you will feel that giving itself is a benefit ; that it is an act in which you receive more than you render. But to increase your incentives to charity, your heavenly Father has laid on you his divine commands^ He charges it upon you that you " do good unto all ». CmMTJAS L1BBRAXITT SNTORCSD. 197 ould you accepted iescended ined that ' wealth, le of the ; vet he >roportion nd all the •egard the ression of fy wealth ount, that offering of n oblation ' your life, ith which you may )bjects for dearest in could you ns would ts. The>- in the act ur obliga- a benefit ; than you •ity, your ommands^ unto all men ;" that you ^< put on bowels of mercy f ihat you " abound" in the grace of ** liberality ;" that you "be ready to distribute, willing to communicate." And in saying this, he is only comfnanding you to be happy, and to communicate happiness. He has often represented charity in his word as equivalent with relative righteousness \ by which he would intimate that it is a principal part of such righteousness. Where the second table of the law is abridged, and its duties summed up in a few words, charity is not only never omitted, but always takes the lead. In all general descriptions of piety, the practice of this duty is speci- fied as a chief element. It is declared to be the most acceptable expression of our love to God. The choic- est blessings, blessedness itself, the essence of all blessings, combined, is promised to it. And in the last great day, when the Son of Man shall sit in judgment on the world, the presence or absence of Christian benevolence is described by our Lord as determining the destinies of men. Now, these are only so many methods by which God would render the expression of his will the more emphatical, and urge us to obey it. In consecrating your substance to him, then, you will be not only gratifying your sense of obligation, you will feel also that you are obeying the will of your God on a subject on which he is most earnest and express. And what should furnish a stronger impulse, or yield you higher delight, than this 1 In heaven, his will is the only motive to obe lience which is necessary. And will you not rejoice in an occasion which joins you with angels in " doing his commandments 1" Hasten, 9Z t 198 CHRISTIAN LI9ERAUTT ENFORCfiD. ,■.>! then, to take your offering before him : he is veaiting the- presentation of your gift. The hand of his holy law is laid upon a portion of your property ; surely you will not think of taking liny of that portion away: rather^ add to it ; let him see that your love is not so easily satisfied as his law ; that your gratitude goes beyond his command ; that were it possible for his law to be repealed, the love which you bear to his blessed name would still be a law constantly demanding fresh sacri- fices for his altar. In its inculcations of beneficence, the Bible appeals to a principle of well-regulated self-interest. Instead of taking it for granted that we should be enamoured of duty for its own sake alone, our heavenly Father evinces the kindest consideration of our fallen condi- tion, by accompanying his commands with appropriate promises and blessings. He graciously allures us to cultivate the tree of Christian charity, by engaging that all its fruit shall be our own. "He who sowetb bountifully shall reap also bountifully." " God is not unrighteous, to forget your work and labour of love." The most marked interpositions and signal blessings, even of earthly prosperity ^ have attended the practice of Christian liberality in every age. Volumes might easily be filled with well-attested instances of the remarkable manner in which God has honoured and rewarded those who in faith and obedience have devoted their property to him. Alas ! that the Christian church should feel so little interest in record- ing such instances to the glory of its Lord ! that we should be so slow of heart to believe tliem when they M ' I CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 199 Eiiting the' ly law is you wilt : rather^ so easily s beyond law to be sed name 3sh sacri- e appeals Instead lamoured ly Father ien condi- )propriate res us to aging that 3 soweth lod is not of love."^ blessings, B practice les might js of the oured and nee have that the in record- ! that we vrheii they are recorded ! — for, what do they prove, but only that God is not unrighteous to forget his promises? — and that his people should give him so little opportunity of illustrating his paternal character by trusting their tem- poral affairs ^Tiore completely to \m hands ! Spiritual prosperity is inseparable from Christian liberality. For "God loveth a cheerful giver; and God is able to make all grace abound towards you ; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work." As often as you practise this duty in an evangelical spirit, you must be conscious that the best part of your sanctified nature is called into exerci£3 j your heart is partially discharged of its remaining selfishness ; your mind is braced more for Christian activity ; your sympathy causes you to feel afresh your alliance with man ; your beneficence enables you to rejoice in your union of spirit with Christ, and adds a new bond to that power of affection which binds you to his cause. And while other duties bring you near to Christ, this may be said at once to place you by his side, and to exalt you into a real though humble imitator of his divine benevolence. The Christian, moreover, is assured that the pro- perty which he devotes to God is so much treasure laid up in heaven, so much seed destined to fructify into a harvest of eternal enjoyment. Christian, would you render your property secure ? place it in the hand of omnipotent Faithfulness. Retain it in your own pos- session, and it is the proper emblem of uncertainty ; but devote it to God, and from that moment it is stamped with his immutability \ his providence becomes your n 111 200 CHBISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. estate, and his word your unfailing security. Would you enjoy your substance ? <' Give alms of such things as ye have; and, behold all things are clean unto you." The oblation of your first fruits unto God will cleanse, and sanctify, and impart a superior relish to all you possess. Like the first Christians, you will then eat your meat with gladness and singleness of heart. Would you increase your property 1 " Honor the Lord with thy substance — so shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine." " For this thing the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all that thou puttest thine hand unto." Sow your substance, then, as seed in the hand of Christ, ihal hand which fed the multitude with a morsel, and which multiplies whatever it touches with its own infinite bounty. Would you grow in grace ? in love and likeness to Christ 1 Would you increase with all the increase of God 1 and abound in the fruits of the Spirit 1 " The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered also himself." Would you be rich for eternity ? Would you cultivate " fruit that may abound to your account" in the invisible world % Invest your property in the cause of Christ ; and he engages to requite you, — not, indeed, as of debt \ this the magnitude of the requital shows, but of his ovi^n exuberant munificence, — he promises to repay you a hundred-fold in the present life, and, in the world to come, life everlasting. As much of your property as you have already devoted to him, however humbly you may think of it, is regarded and watched over by him as << a good foundation laid M CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 201 Would ch things 3an unto God will iish to all vill then of heart, onor the be filled v^lth new lall bless est thine sd in the iide with touches rrow in )uld you )ound in shall be red also Would ccount" in the 1, — not, requital ce, — he present g. As ^oted to 3garded on laid up against the time to come, that you may lay hold on etern'dl life." And all that you may hereafter cap* into his treasury, shall certainly precede your arrvc*! in heaven, and there be converted for you into incorrupti- ble treasures " to the praise of the glory of his grace." Is the welfare of your posterity an object? The parent who makes this an excuse for robbing the cause of God of its due, is defrauding his offspring of God's blessing, entailing on them the divine displeasure, leaving them heirs of the punishment which his own robbery of God has deserved. This is improvidence of the most awful kind. But let your regard for their wants be combined with a proportionate regard for the claims of benevolence, and you will be demising to your offspring that rich, that inexhaustible inheritance, the inheritance of God's blessing. Providence will look on them as its own wards ; will care for them as its own children. Do you desire to be remembered, to enjoy lasting fame? "The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance." " The memory of the just is blessed." And here, by the righteous and the just, is to be understood especially the bountiful. His memory is followed with commendations into the presence of God. His character is embalmed in its own piety. His name passes with commendation through the lips of God, and that gives it immortality. His benevo- lence resulted from the grace of God ; and, as such, the honor of God is concerned in making his memory immortal. Would you acquire a right in your property ? a right 'I ''Vl I' ! 202 CHRISTIAN LIBERAI.ITT ENFORCED. .1 which shall justify you in calling it your own 1 By withholding it from God, you are forfeiting all interest in it, and laying yourself open to the charge of embez" zlement and fraud. But by devoting it to his service, you would be acquiring an everlasting interest in it ; for you would never cease to enjoy the good resulting from its divine employment. Hence the solution of the epitaph of a charitable man, " What T retained I have lost, what I gave away remains with me." By the practice of Christian liberality, the glory of God and the credit of religion are promoted ; — and what object should be of more precious and abiding concern to the believer than this 1 " The administra- tion of this service not only supplieth the want of the saints, but is abundant also by many thanksgivings unto God ; while by the experiment of this ministra^ tion they glorify God for your professed subjection unto the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal distribution unto them and to all men." The new-born liberality of the first Christians for the support of their needy brethren threw the church into a holy transport of de- light. It was bringing the benevolent power of Chris- tianity to the test; and, as a masterpiece of human mechanism, when tried and found to exceed expecta- tion, fills the beholders with delight— the'result of " the experiment of this ministration" was such as to call forth songs of exultation to the glory of God. It dis- played the gospel in a new aspect, brought to light its benevolent energies, showed them that, much as they knew of its virtues, it contained hidden excellencies which it would require time and circumstances to CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 203 ml By [ interest f embez* 5 service, in it ; for resulting 3n of the id I have glory of d ; — and ; abiding ministra- nt of the ksgivings ministra" tion unto itribution liberality ir needy rt of de- >f Chris- r human expecta- t of "the s to call It dis- light its I as thev ellencies noes to I evolve and display ; it filled the church with a chorus of praise to the glory of God. For what but his grace could produce such liber- ality 1 It was supernatural ; the apostle, therefore, emphatically denominates it the grace of God, So spontaneous and munificent was it, that it resembled the gifts of his grace. So purely did it result from love to the brethren, from the overflowings of tender com- passion for their wants, that it was truly godlike. So unparalleled and unworldly an act was it, that the grace of God alone could produce it. It was grace from the Fountain, flowing forth in streams of liberality through the channels of his people. As if it were the noblest form that the love of God could take in his people, he confers on it this crowning title, the grace of God. And, indeed, it would be easy to show that there is scarcely any duty so purely the result of grace as genuine Christian liberality ; that the practice of it on any thing like the primitive scale, requires more grace, and exercises and illustrates a greater number of the principles of piety, than almost any other duty. The church cannot witness it without being strongly re- minded of her high descent, her unearthly character, without falling down afresh before the throne of Him whose constraining love thus triumphs over the selfish- ness of humanity. The world cannot witness it with- out feeling its own selfishness condemned, without secretly bowing to the divinity of religion. Christian, would you enjoy the most endearing evi- dences of your heavenly Father's love ? Place your property at his disposal, and daily trust him for daily ( fi i 204 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED* \4'H. provision. If his character be paternal, your charac* ter should be filial ; and the leading feature of that is unlimited dependence. Would you honor him in his church ? Copy the example of " the churches of Mace* donia" in their abundant liberality ; and you will provoke some of your fellow-Christians to emulation, and send others with grateful hearts into the presence of God, and assist in enlarging the sphere of evangeli- cal labour, and raise the standard of Christian piety, and cause the church of Christ to resound with the high praises of his constraining love. And would you glorify God before the world ? Let the light of your Christian liberality shine before men. Not only prac- tise the duty, but practise it on such a s caleas shall proclaim to them the existence of a superintending Providence, and convince them of your reliance on its care. Devise liberal things for the cause of God, and you will thus be asserting the quarrel of your heavenly Father with an unbelieving world j vindicating and attesting the faithfulness of his word, the watchfulness of his love, and the benevolent power of his holy gos- pel. Withdraw your trust from those goods in which the ungodly confide, resign them to God, and thus you will be affording him an occasion for displaying his paternal love. He charges you to be careful for noth- ing, that he may evince his carefulness of you. Of the poor it is said, that he who oppresseth them reproacheth his Maker— charges God with injustice for permitting them to be poor, and for devolving their maintenance on him ; insults God in the person of the poor, by refusing to charge himself with the care of CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT ENFORCED. 205 charac* f that is m in his )f Mace* rou will Qulation, presence jvangeli- m piety, with the ould you of your ily prac- eas shall intending ice on its 7od, and leavenly ing and hfulness loly gos- n which thus you Lying his for noth- • ;th them injustice ing their •n of the care of them, though sent to him with promises direct from God. And thus, though God meant to employ the rich as his agents for the poor, to bind them to each other by the constant interchange of gratitude and benevolence, and to illustrate and honor his providen- tial government, the selfishness of man frustrates his plans, and turns his honor into a reproach. In a very similar manner, he has devolved the Christian interest on his people, and the world is watching their conduct in relation to it. If they treat it as a burden, God will deem himself reproached; but let them meet its demands, and enrich it with their liberality, and the power of his gospel and the wisdom of his arrange- ments will be seen, — the world will render him the homage of its silent admiration, and his church will triumph in every place. The great gospel argument for Christian liberality is the divine example of the Redeemer's love, •'* Hereby perceive we his love," — as if every other display of love were eclipsed by the effulgence of this ; as if all possible illustrations of love were summed up in this, — " Hereby perceive we his love, because he laid down his life for us ; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren." " But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him 1" How can the love of Christ inhabit that bosom which is a stranger to sympathy for his people ? Ill indeed does he pretend readiness to die for Christ, who will not give a little money towards the support of his cause and people. I'l 206 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. V m When the apostle Paul would enjoin the Philippians to " look not every man on hia own things, but every man also on the things of others," he points them to ^^ the mind which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God : but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men : and, being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." He does not content himself with merely stating the fact of our Lord's con- descension and death ; but, as if he loved to linger on the subject, he traces it from stage to stage ; as if the immensity of the stoop which Christ made were too great to be comprehended til once, he divides it into parts, and follows him downwards from point to point, till he has reached the lowest depth of his humiliation. As if he felt convinced that the amazing spectacle, if duly considered, could not fail to annihilate selfishness in every othei heart, as it had in his own, the only anxiety he evinces is that it should be seen, be vividly presented before the eye of the mind. Having carried our thoughts up to that infinite height where Christ had been from eternity in the bosom of the Father, he shows us the Son of God divesting himself of his glory ; and then, he detains our eye in sf prolonged gaze on his descending course ; condescending to be born ; volun- tarily subjecting himself to all the humbling conditions of our nature ; taking on himself the responsibilities of a servant ; still humbling himself, still passing from one depth of ignominy to a lower still ; becoming CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT ENFORCED. 207 ilippiani) ut every them to 10, being be equal and took le in the 3 a man, to death, t content rd's con- linger on as if the were too !S it into to point, niliation. jctacle, if slfishness the only )e vividly ig carried Ihrist had ither, he lis glory ; Lze on his , ; volun- ionditions bilities of ing from becoming obedient unto death ; and that death the most hum* bling, the most replete with agony and shame, the death of the cross. Christian, can you ever contemplate this wonderful exhibition without renewed emotions of love ? without feeling afresh *.hat you are not your own ? And say, ought such grace in Christ to be requited with parsi- mony in his followers? Ought such a Master to be served by grudging and covetous servants? Ought such a Saviour to have to complain that those who have been redeemed, and uho know they have been redeemed, not with corruptible things, such as silver and gold, but with his own most precious blood, are so much attached to that corruptible wealth, that they will not part with it, though urged by the claims of that most precious blood % 0, ^hame to humanity ! O, reproach to the Christian name ! Be concerned, Christian, to wipe off the foul stain. Bring forth your substance, and spread it before him. Were you to give up all to him, would it be v^ry reprehensible, or very unaccountable, considering that he gave up all for you 1 At least, economize for Christ. Betrench, retrench your expenditure, that you may be able to increase your liberality. Deny, deny yourself for his cause, as you value consistency, as you profess to be a follower of him, ." who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree." In his second epistle to the Corinthians, we find the apostle enforcing the practice of Christian liberality; and various and cogent are the motives which he adduces to excite their benevolence. But we might 1208 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. It ']| rest assored that it would not be long before he intro* duced the motive of our Lord's example. The love of Christ was the actuating principle of his own conduct ; it influenced him more than all other motives com- bined. If ever his ardour in the path of duty flagged for a moment, he glanced at the cross, thought of the great love wherewith Christ had loved him, and instantly girded on his zeal afresh. In addressing others, therefore, he never failed to introduce this motive ; he relied on it as his main strength ; he brought it to bear upon them in all its subduing and constraining force. And how tender, how pointed, how melting the appeal which he makes : — " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his pov- erty might be rich." You know the height from which he stooped. You know the depth of humilia- tion to which he descended ; that he found no resting- place between his throne and the cross. You know for whom he did this ; for his enemies, his destroyers. You know that he did this voluntarily ; that he was under no necessary obligation to endure itj that his own love was the only obligation ; that he welcomed each indignity, invited each pang, made them a part of his plan of condescension. You^know how earnest- ly he prosecuted the work of our salvation ; that in every step he took he was only gratifying the compas- sionate yearnings of his own heart ; that he assumed life for the express purpose of laying it down ; and though he saw as from a height the whole array of CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCSD. 209 e intro- I love of onduct ; 58 com- ' flogged I of the m, and Idressing ice this jth ; he jing and ting the ;e of our , yet for his pov- ht from lumilia- resting- )u know troyers. he was that his elcomed n a part earnest- that in compas- issumed rn; and array of duty and trial which awaited him, the only emotions which he evinced at the sight were a self-consuming ardour to reach the cross which stood at the end of his patli — a holy impatience to be baptized with that baptism of blood. You know the object for which he did it all — for your salvation ; that he might pour his fulness into your emptiness, his riches into your poverty ; that he might raise you to heaven, and share with you the glories of his own throne. You know this ; not, indeed, in the sense of com- prehending it ; that is impossible, for it is a love which passeth such knowledge. But you know it by report ; you have heard of it. It is the theme of the universe. Heaven resounds with it j the church on earth is full of it ; the eternal Father commands it to be published throughout the world. And so amazing is it, the bare announcement of it should be sufficient to transform selfishness itself into disinterested love. But you know it experimentally. You can look back on a time when you were in a state of alienation from God bordering on perdition : you have been plucked as a brand from the burning; and now you are looking forwards to eternal life with Christ in heaven ; and you know that you owe your deliverance, and all your hopes, to the grace of Christ. You know what he endured for your redemption, that he loved you, ** and gave himself for you ;" and will you withhold from him any thing in your possession 1 Can you believe that he died for you? that, in dying, he wore your name upon his breast? that his heart cherished the thought of your happiness t that he made himself t2 210 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITT ENFORCED; ^♦•iAt poor to enrich you ? and wll you not freely contribute' of your woridly substance to diffuse the knowledge of his grace ? Did he employ his heavenly powers solely for your salvation) lay himself out for your happiness 1 Yes, saith he, " For their sakes I sanctify myself. I set myself apart, I appropr ate all I have and am to the work of their salvation / ' And he did so. When did he ever go about but to do good! When did he evec open his hand but to bless ? or weep, but in sympathy with human woe 1 What object did he ever pursue but that of benevolence 1 imparting life to the dying, pardon to the guilty, purity to the depraved, blessings to all around him. " Let the same mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus." He was the author of riches, and the heir of all things ; but all he posses- sed he gave for your salvation, and all that you possess you should employ for his glory. You enjoy a portion of this world's goods ; consider the use which Ae would have made of it, and copy his divine example.^ . Did he not only employ his heavenly powers, but actually deny himself, suffer, die fop your happiness T He pleased not himself. He endured the cross^ des- pising the shame. He poured out his soul unto death.. Himself he would not save. He would not come down from the cross. ! how did he for a season annihilate himself! How did he take our place, take- our curse, and endure it all ! That was compassion. That was looking on the things of others. That was benevolence, — disinterested, unparalleled, matchless benevolence, liet this mind be in you. Never cant itribnte* edge of )r your I Yes, , I set I to the hen did he ever napathy pursue I dying. m you J author posses- possess portion lich he £ample»< • ;rs, but piness T 3Sy des- > death » t come season ce, take )assion. hat was aitchless ver cau CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 211 you hope to equal it, for it is infinite — ^the grace of a God: but so much the greater your obligation to approach it as nearly as you can. Christian, ymi know his grace, — ^you feel it. How much owest thou unto thy Lord % Do you ever attempt to compute the mighty sum? Endeavour to realize the idea ; and if then you feel any reluctance to con- secrate your substance to him, it can only be on the ground of its utter insignificance. But he asks for it as an expression of your love — yes, he asks for it. He comes to you every time an appeal is made to your Christian liberality, and, as he turns on you a look of benignity and love, he inquires, " Lovest thou me f And as he points to that portion of your property which ought to be devoted to his cause, he asks you again, "Lovest thou me more than this?" If so, devote it to my cause, consecrate it to my service. And he saith unto you the third time, " Lovest thou me 1" If so, " feed my lambs, feed my sheep ;" sup- port my poor ; aid my interest in the world ; encourage every eiTort made to bring home my wandering sheep j think of the millions of them that are perishing, mil- lions for whom I died j shall my love be defrauded of them 1 shall I not behold in them the travail of my soul, and be satisfied 1 By the love you bear to me, and by the infinitely greater love I bear to you, imitate my love ; and you know the extent of that, " you know the grace of your Lord Jesus Christ, that, though be was rich, for your sakes he became poor, that you through his poverty might be rich." 0, Christian, study your obligations at the fool of i\ 212 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. the cross. If you would imbibe the disinterested and self-sacrificing benevolence of your blessed Lord, take your station daily at the foot of the cross. Never till yoii do this, will you feel the claims which he has upon you. But when you there see the great love wherewith he hath loved you, we will defy you to be covetous, inactive, selfish in his cause. You cannot fail to love him ; that love cannot fail to constrain you ; and, constrained by that, you will be turned into a pains-taking, self-denying, devoted servant of Christ ; to whom he will say, daily, " Well done, good and faithful servant ;" till the day when he will sum up all his grace by adding, " Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." If you are truly a Christian, you have felt that you are not your own, that you are bought wiih a price : in other words, you see so clearly, and feel so strongly, that you owe yourself to Christ, that you have gone to his feet and implored his acceptance of your soul. But the dedication of yourself includes the surrender of your property. It is related in Roman history, that when the people of CoUatia stipulated about their surrender to the autho- rity and protection of Rome, the question asked was, " Do you deliver up yourselves, tl\e Collatine people, your city, your fields, your water, your bounds, your temples, your utensils, all things that are yours, both human and divine, into the hands of the people of Romel" And on their replying, "We deliver up all," — they were received. The voluntary surrender which you, Christian, have made to Christ, though not CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 213 SO detailed and specific as this formula, is equally compreher ive. And do you not account those your best moments when you feel constrained to lament that your surrender comprehends no more ? Can you recall to mind the way in which he has redeemed you, the misery from which he has snatched you, and the blessedness to which he is conducting you, without feeling that he has bought you a thousand times over? that you are his by the tenderest, weightiest obliga- tions ? And when you feel thus, how utterly impossi- ble would it be for you at such a moment to stipulate for an exception in favor of your property ! — to har- bour a mental reservation in favor of that ! Can you think of the blessedness attending the act itself of dedication to God, — that you are wedding yourself to infinite riches, uniting yourself to infinite beauty, allying yourself to infinite excellence : giving yourself to God, and receiving God in return, so that henceforth all his infinite resources, his providence, his Son, his Spirit, his heaven, he Himself, all become yours, to the utmost degree in which you can enjoy them ; — can you think of this without often repeating the act] without feeling that, had you all the excellen- cies of a myriad of angels, his love would deserve the eternal devotion of the whole 1 ^Realize to your own mind the nature of Christian dedication, and the claims of Him who calls for it, and, so far from giving penu- riously to his cause, you will take every increase of your substance into his presence, and devote it to his praise ; you will regard every appeal which is made to your Christian benevolence as an appeal to that solemn 214. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. l\ X i treaty which made you his, and you will honor it accordingly ; you will deeply feel the penury of all riches as an expression of your love to him ; Lebanon would not be sufficient to burn, or the beasts thereof an offering large enough, to satisfy the cravings of your love. Think, moreover, o[ihe high design fo?' which God condescends to accept your surrender. Not that you may live to yourself, but entirely to him. Having disposed and enabled you to give yourself to him, he would then baptize you in the element of divine love, and give you to the world, " God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son" to redeem it. The object, indeed, for which he was given was, like himself, infinite ; an object which never can be shared, and which never need be repeated. But the office to which God desig- nates every man, from the moment of his conversion, is meant to be a new donation to the world. The relation in which he places him to the world is meant to be a fresh expression of the same infinite love which prompted him to give Christ; it is to be viewed as nothing less than a symbolical representa- tion to the world of that unspeakable gift. He is not that gift, but is sent to bear witness of that gift ; not merely to announce it with his* lips, but to describe and commemorate its fulness and freeness in his own character. Like his blessed Lord, he is to look upon himself as dedicated to the cause of human happiness, dedicated from eternity. ; Christian, you know the grace of our Lord Jesus 3. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 215 t honor it Liry of all Lebanon ts thereof ;s of your hich God that you Having him, he ine love, his only leed, for nite ; an ch never )d desig- iversion, i. The vorld is infinite is to be resenta- e is not ift; not iescribe lis own >k upon )pines8, d Jesus Christ, — might the world infer the existence of his grace from your conduct % Is your benevolence wor- thy of him, who, " though he was rich, for your sokes became poor ?" He turned himself into a fountain of grace and love, and called you to be a Christian, that you might be a consecrated channel of his grace to others. He requires all the benevolent agency of heaven and earth to be put into motion, in order to do justice to the purposes of his love ; and he has called you into his service in order to increase that agency. Surely, you are not, by the love of money, frustrating that design. As well for the perishing world had he never died for its salvation, if his appointed and conse- crated agents neglect to make him known. Surely, you are not, by living only to yourself, by wasting your property on yourself as fast as he gives it to you, leav- ing the world to infer, that his character bore any resemblance to yours ; and leaving it, besides, to per- ish under your eye, because an effort to save it would incur expense. You have not, you cannot, have so learned Christ. But what then are you giving? more than the heathen to his idol-god ? more than the votary of a corrupted Christianity to the object of his super- stitious regard ? or more than the irreligious worldling devotes to pleasure and self-indulgence t " What do ye more than others 1" Consider also the happy influence which a spirit of Christian liberality would have on your own enjoy- ment. By taking from the flesh the means of self- indulgence, it would be exalting the spirit. It would be enlarging your heart, and ennobling your character, ^1 216 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED* 1 a .'I and identifying you with all things good, and gloriouiS) and happy in the universe. Much as it might benefit the cause of God, it would still more minister to the welfare and happiness of your own soul. Devise liberal things, and cy liberal things you shall stand. Taste the luxury of doing good, and you will regret that you began so late. Select for imitation the loftiest examples — the few distinguished names whose praise is in all the churches — and you will be conscious of a delight which an angel might be grate- ful to share. God himself is the happiest being, because he is the most benevolent ; and you would then, in the most exalted sense, be holding fellowship with him ; you would understand experimentally the saying of our Lord Jesus Christ, that " it is more blessed to give than to receive j" you would make all the beneficence of the world your own, by the com- placency with which you would behold it exercised and enjoyed. But the motives to Christian charity are endless. The state of the world requires it. How vast its mul- titudes ; how urgent and awful their condition ; how brief the hour for benefiting them ; how mighty the interest pending on that short hour ! Look where you will, your eye will encounter signals to be active ; , myriads of objects, in imploring or commanding atti- tudes, urging you to come to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty. The church calls for it. It has many an agent of mercy to send forth, if you will but aid to furnish the means. It has many a generous purpose in its heart. CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 217 gloriouS) It benefit ;er to the ngs you and you imitation i names I will be be grate- ii being, u would sllowship itally the is more pnake all he com- xercised endless, its mul- n ; how ghty the lere you active ; ing atti- ord, to agent of dish the s heart, many a long-cherished and magnanimous project ready to leap to its lips, if your liberality should encourage it to speak. It burns with a holy impatience to reap the vast harvest of the heathen world, which Providence seems to have prepared and to be keeping for its sickle, — will you not aid to send forth more labourers into the harvest 1 It has been slumbering at its post for ages ; it is now awaking to an alarmed conscious- ness of its neglected responsibilities, and, as it counts up its long arrears of duty, it hastens to atone for the past by instituting one society, and adopting one reme- dy after another, and sending its agents to plead for help from its members, in the name of Christ, — and will you not help it in its straits ? A proportion of its guilt is lying upon you,— will you not aid it to retrieve the past ? and assist it to recover and present to the world its primitive aspect of love and zeal ? The Christians of apostolic times call for it. Be- nevolence was their characteristic. A selfish Christian was a contradiction of which they were happily igno- rant. For such an anomaly their church had provided no place; they would have cast him forth from among them, as a disgrace. They had the grand secret of giving up all for Christ, and yet accounting themselves rich ; the art of taking joyfully the spoil- ing of their goods ; the principle of finding their happi- ness in living to God, in spending and being spent in his service. It would have been difiicult to convince them that they were in danger of giving too freely to the cause of Christ ; that they were denying themselves in giving so much to him instead of consuming it on V I \ >; m 218 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. M n their own lusts, when they felt they were gratifying themselves by so doing. It would have been difficult to convince them that their interest was distinct from the interest of Christ; or that they had any occasion for tears while his kingdom was prospering, or any reason to exult in their own secular prosperity if it did not subserve the advancement of his cause. They could not be depressed : or their Lord had arisen, and was reigning on the throne of heaven. At that thought, they not only rejoiced themselves, they called on the universe to rejoice with them ; for they saw, in his exaltation, the pledge of the world's salvation, and of an eternity of happiness with him in heaven. What, to them, were a few intervening days of trial and pain 1 They thought not of such things ! What, to them, was a question of property, whether much or little ? Not worth the price of a thought ! If they had it, they gave it to that service to which they had given themselves. If they had it not, they did not for a moment speak of it as a want^ or think of asking the cause of the world's salvation to stand still, while they were engaged in a scramble with the world to obtain it. The vision' of heaven was in their eye ; and, until they reached it, their Lord had engaged to provide for all their wants, and had engaged to do this solely that they might give their undivided attention to his service. Of doubts and fears about their personal interest in his love they appear to have known nothing ; that is a disease peculiar to the morbid and selfish piety of mo- dern days. The element of activity and benevolence in which they lived, secured them against such a CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 219 ratifying difficult net from occasion or any if it did They sen, and thought, I on the V, in his , and of What, rial and Vhat, to much or If they they had i not for sking the lile they >btain it. ntil they e for all hat they ice. Of t in his hat is a of mo- ivolence such a malady, and produced a race of Christians, vigorous, holy, and happy. And is it from such, Christian, that you profess to have descended ? do you claim relationship to them 1 profess to represent tbem ? Bending froni their seats of blessedness above, they urge, they beseech you, to cast off the worldly spirit in which you have hitherto indulged, and to take up their fallen mantle. They entreat you no longer to disgrace their name, nor the infinitely dearer name of Christ j to renounce it at once, as the greatest homage you can pay to it, or else to follow them as far as they followed Christ. They all expect this from you ; they will demand ^it at your hands when you meet them at the bar of God. The promises and prospects of prophecy invite it. Muse on the prophetic paintings of the latter day glory, that day without a cloud ; — the enemies of man subdued, the disorders of the world hushed, all its great miseries passed away. Christ on his throne ; in the midst of a redeemed, sanctified, happy creation. All things sacred to his name ; all tongues rehearsing for the last great chorus of the universe ; all hearts united in holy love, and in that love offering themselves up as one everlasting sacrifice ascending before him in its own flames ; new heavens, and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. And is it possible that your agency can contribute to accelerate that blessed pe- riod 1 These glimpses of its glory are afforded you, expressly to engage your agency in its behalf. Not only is your instrumentality desirabl — there is a sense in which it is indispensable. All things are waiting ^20 CHRISTIAN LnERALITT ENFORCED. 1^ In. ! h for it. All things are ready but the church of Christ J and until its prayers, its wealth, all its energies and resources, are laid at the feet of Christ, all things must continue to wait. 0, then, by the mercies of God j by the riches of his goodness towards you in nature, providence, and grace ; by the sacredness of the commands which he has laid upon you ; by a legitimate regard for your own well-being ; and by the credit of that religion whose honor should be dearer to you than life, — we beseech you, Christian, to dedicate your property to God. By the love of Christ ; by the compassion which brought him from the bosom of the Father ; by his painful self-denial and deep humiliation ; by his obedience unto death, even the death of the cross ; 0, by th^t mystery of love which led him to become poor that he might make you eternally rich — ask yourself, while standing at the cross, " How much owest thou unto thy Lord ?" and give accordingly. By the tender and melting considerations which led you at first to surren- der yourself to his claims : by the benevolent purposes which God had in view in calling you to a knowledge of himself ; and by the deep and holy pleasure to be found in imitating his divine beneficence, — look on your property as the Lord's, and givje it freely to his glory. By the cries of the vs^orld perishing in igno- rance of Christ ; by the earnest entreaties of the church yearning to save it from destruction, but wanting your aid ; as you profess to admire the unparalleled benevo* lence of the first Christians, and to be actuated by the same principles ; and as you hope to behold the con*- ' CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 00 1 summation of your Saviour's glory in the salvation of the world — we entreat, we adjure you, to look on your property as given you by God to be employed in his service, and from this day to employ it accordingly. He who gave his only-begotten Son for your salvation, — he who redeemed you from the curse of the law, by being made a curse for you, — he who has breathed into you the breath of a new life, and is preparing you for heaven, — the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, unite in urging you to bring forth your property, and to lay it upon the altar of Christian sacrifice. And now. Christian, what shall be the practical effect of the truths which have been made to pass before youl Allow me, in conclusion, to suggest what it ought to be ; and may God the Holy Spirit give you grace to carry it into practice. Have you, while reading the preceding pages, felt a single emotion of benevolence warm and expand your heart? Instantly gratify it* Let it not pass fron^ you in an empty wish ; but immediately bring forth something to be appropriated to his glory. Is your benf volencc destitute of plan ? Theii, unless you can gainsay what we have advanced on the necessity oisystem^ lose no time in devising one. Are you a stranger to self-denial in the cause of charity ? Then, remember that benevolence, with you, has yet to be begun ; for, on Christian principles, there is no benevolence without self-denial. Here, then, is an object to take you at once to iht throne of grace, 0, Christian, let it lead you to pour out your soul in prayer before God. Confess thai CimiSTIAN LIB£RALITY ENFORCED. 5! selfishness by which you have hitherto absorbed so much of that property in worldly indulgences, which ought to have been spent in his service. Ask him for the grace of self-denial, that your offerings may hence- forth Ijear a proportion to the magnitude of his claims. Beseech him to pour out his Holy Spirit upon you and upon all his people, as a Spirit of Christian liberality, that " Holiness to the Lord" may soon be inscribed on all the properly of his church. " He who soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly ; and he who sow- eth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. And God loveth a cheerful giver." ' Ml THE END. ^