. v 
 

 I ALUMNI LIBRARY, f 
 
 * THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, | 
 
 # PRINCETCtoJ, N. J. ^ 
 
 BV 4627 .C6 H3 183'^ 
 Harris, John, 1802-1856 
 Mammon 
 
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GOUI.D, KENDALI. & LINCOLN, 
 
 :i3ufalisl)crs, 33oofe;scllcrs, ^ Statfoncvs, 
 
 59 VViSHiNGTotT St.... Boston, 
 Have recently published 
 
 A NEW PRIZE ESSAY, BY THE AUTHOR 
 OF " MAMMON," ENTITLED 
 
 ZEBULON; 
 
 OR, THE MORAL CLAIMS OF SEAMEN STATED AND 
 ENFORCED^ 
 
 BY REV. JOHN HARRIS, 
 
 Of Epsom, England. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN, REVISED FROM THE THIRD LONDOW EDITIOIC. 
 
 Edited by Rev.W. M. Rogers, pastor of Franklin 
 
 Street Church, and Rev. Daniel M. Lord, 
 
 Seaman's Preacher, Boston. 
 
 Preface to the American Edition. 
 
 The following work is substantially a reprint of 
 Britannia, a Prize Essay by Mr. Harris, on the mor- 
 al claims of Seamen. It seemed desirable that a pro- 
 duction by such an author, on such a subject, should 
 come as extensively as possible before the American 
 public. In examining the Essay with reference to the 
 press, it was found to be so completely English, as to 
 render its naturalization indispensable to secure its 
 highest utility among us. The very things, which in 
 part gave it weight and influence in England, unfitted 
 it for our own meridian. We cannot be expected to 
 be moved by the glory of her naval warfare, or to 
 feel the power of appeals based on the extent of her 
 commerce. As far as the argument is grounded on 
 
 m m 
 

 tilings which are as true of the American as the Eng- 
 lish sailor, it would be impertinent to make any alter- 
 ations. It has been our object, therefore, to make the 
 Essay an appeal by Mr. Ilariis to the Christians of 
 America, on the moral claims of our own seamen. — 
 We judged it indispensable to this end, that appeals 
 to sympatliies peculiarly English, should be erased, 
 and that the statistics of our own commerce and be- 
 nevolent operations in behalf of seamen should be sub- 
 stituted for those of England. The original title of 
 Britannia has been rejected, and from the various sub- 
 stitutes which have occurred to us, we have selected 
 (not without distrust) that of Zebulon, the name of 
 the tribe in Israel who dwelt by the " haven of ships." 
 We are not aware of having taken greater liberties 
 with the work, than was necessary to our object, or 
 than is common in England with the productions of 
 American authors. We hope Mr. Harris will not 
 consider his Essay barnacled by its passage across the 
 Atlantic. If it shall appear to him to have suffered at 
 our hands, he will impute it to an honest, though mis- 
 guided desire that he " might have some fruit among 
 us also, even as among other Gentiles." 
 
 Ai^iERiCAN Editors. 
 
 This uwrk is just issued ; but has received high com- 
 mendations from the press, and seems destined to enjoy 
 the same popularity as its predecessor, "Mammon." 
 
 From the Christian Register. 
 The work has been so far altered by its American 
 Editors, as to adapt it to the peculiarities of our na- 
 tion in regard to the condition and wants of our sea- 
 men. For which liberty, those who are concerned 
 have made in the introduction an apology, undoubted- 
 ly suthcient to the English author. The book bears 
 the same indubitable mark of genius and piety as do 
 most of the other productions of the same mind. It is 
 destined to have an extensive circulation; and will 
 undoubtedly accomplish a great deal towards direct- 
 ing the attention and liberality of Christians to a high- 
 ly important, nmnerous, deserving, and at the same 
 
time greatly neglected and abused class of our breth- 
 ren. 
 
 From Zion's Arlvocnlc, Portland. 
 
 We havecursonl}' read it, and arc prepared to say it 
 well su>tains ihe )ii,:;^di reputation wliich the i,Mfted au- 
 thor has gained by liis'lbrmer highly talented pro- 
 ductions. The introduction, by tic American editors, 
 is an interesting article, in which are exhibited the 
 great advantages of the " Sailors' Home." We are 
 much pleased with all the contents of this volume. It 
 is written in the usual glowing style of the author. It 
 pleads the cause of this too much neglected class of 
 our fellow-creatures as we have never known it to be 
 advocated baihre. Surely, he will receive a thousand 
 blessings from the hardy sons of the ocean. 
 
 We were hardly aware, before we read this Essay, 
 of the faintncss nnd feebleness of the ellbrls that have 
 been made to enlighten and Christianize seamen— nor 
 were we prepared to believe that their situation wag 
 so degraded in morals. 
 
 From tlic Morning Post. 
 It is a good book, and should be bought and I'cad. 
 
 From tlio Americ:in Traveller. 
 The English copy has been revised and adapted to 
 our own country, arui the Essay will have a wide cir- 
 culation, and do immense good." 
 
 From tho Mercantile Journal. 
 It is a prize Essay, the production of Rev. John 
 H;irris, the gifted author of "Mammon," and we 
 doubt not will be gladly welcomed, and be the mcfuis 
 of doing much good. 
 
 From the Christian VVutcliman. 
 We have read the Essay of Mr. Harris on the con- 
 dition of seamen, and on the best manner of improv- 
 ing their condition, with much satisf-iciion ; and we 
 hardly know which most to admire, the ability with 
 which the autlu^r has accomplished las undertak- 
 mg, or the benevolence of his design. * * The pub- 
 
 ■m 
 
lishers have done the cause of American seamen a 
 valuable service by a reprint of this excellent work. 
 
 From the New Bedford Mercury. 
 This is a little work which is calculated to com- 
 mend itself to all interested in the moral advance- 
 ment of seamen. It is the production of the gifted 
 author of" Mammon," which has had an extensive 
 circulation in this country. 
 
 MAMMON — Prize Essay: 
 
 OR, 
 
 COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 BY REV. JOHN HARRIS, 
 Author of the "Great Teacher." 
 
 THIRD AMERICAN, FROM THE TWENTIETH LONDON BDITIOW. 
 
 This Work has already engaged the attention of 
 Churclies and individuals, and receives the highest 
 commendations. The publishers take pleasure in pre- 
 senting the follovnng united recommendation from cler- 
 gymen in this city. 
 
 "Having read the prize Essay of the Rev. John 
 Harris, entitled ' Mammon, or Covetousness the Sin 
 of the Christian Church,' we cordially recommend it 
 as deserving the serious perusal of the professed fol- 
 lowers of Christ. 
 
 " Its general circulation will be a powerful means 
 of increasing the spirituality of the churches, and of 
 advancing every good work which depends in any 
 measure upon pecuniary contributions. 
 
 R. Anderson, Wm. Hague, Lucius BoUes, 
 
 David Greene, George B. Ide, Abel Stevens^ 
 Da7iiel Sharp, Geo. W. Blagden, Wm. Jenks, 
 Wm. M. Rogers. J. H. Fair child, A. Boies, 
 Jotham Horton, S. S. Mallery, D. M, Lord, 
 Baron Stmv, HiMard Winslow, E, Thresher^ 
 
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rejiiiui en tt> nefl li/'nf lii<> inii •><iiiit7 '•''"/ '<'> < I'x'i^ 
 
 
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MAMMON: 
 
 COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OF THE 
 CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 
 
 BY REV. JOHN HARRIS, 
 
 AUTHOR or THE "GREAT TEACHER." 
 
 THIRD AMERICAN, 
 FROM THE TWENTIETH LONDON EDITION. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 GOULD, KENDALL & LINCOLN 
 
 No. 59 Wasliington Street. 
 
 1837. 
 
Printed by Wm. A. Hall & Co. 
 
TO 
 
 T. CONaUEST, ESa. M.D., F.L.S., &c. 
 
 ORIGINATED BY ins LIBERALITY, 
 
 AND 
 
 ACCOMPANIED BY THE PRAYER THAT IT MAY PROMOTE 
 HIS BENEVOLENT OBJECT, 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PUBLISHER'S NOTICE. 
 
 TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 The rapid sale of the first edition of this 
 work, made it necessary to put to press a sec- 
 ond, very soon after its pubHcation. It has 
 been very extensively reviewed, both in this 
 country and in Europe ; and the publishers 
 feel justified in saying, that few religious 
 works, that have appeared of late years, have 
 produced more sensible effect on the religious 
 community, or have received more itniversal 
 encomiums, than " Mammon ! " Certainly 
 no work could be better devised, or more faith- 
 fully executed, to counteract the prevaiUng 
 sin of the times. 
 
 As an evidence of the popularity of the 
 work in England, it is suflicient to give the 
 testimony of a highly respectable clergyman, 
 of London, who states in a communication 
 lately received, "We have exhausted the tenth 
 edition. Ten thousand copies have been sold 
 — this is a sale which no writer has command- 
 
Vi NOTICE. 
 
 ed since Scott — certainly no religions author." 
 The desirableness of having a cheaj)er edition 
 has been snggested by some who have interest- 
 ed themselves in the gratuitous distribution of 
 the work. The publishers are therefore happy 
 to comply with the suggestion, by putting it in 
 a somewhat different shape. 
 
 Boston, Feb. 1837. 
 
 NOTICE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 The sale of Four Thousand copies of this 
 popular work, within one year from its first ap- 
 pearance in this country, together with the fact 
 that it has reached its "Twentieth Thou- 
 sand" in England, is conclusive evidence 
 of its pecuHar adapiedness to the times, as 
 well as its own intrinsic merits ; — the present 
 demand for it is greater than ever before, and it 
 is hoped that it may be read, circulated, and 
 its beneficial effects felt in every part of our 
 country. 
 
 October^ 1837. 
 
r 
 
 X PRIITCSTOII v. 
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 SELFISHNESS THE ANTAGONIST OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Sect. 1. — The Universe designed to display and enjoy 
 
 the Love of God 17 
 
 Sect. 2. — Sin, as Selfishness, is the frustration of the 
 
 Divine Plan 20 
 
 Sect. 3.— All Sin is Selfishness. 23 
 
 Sect. 1. — The Gospel, as a System of Benevolence, op- 
 posed to Selfishness 26 
 
 Sect. 5. — Selfishness, the Sin of the World, heis long 
 
 since become the Sin of the Church - - 38 
 
 Sect. 6. — The Forms of Selfishness in the Church - 42 
 
 PART II. 
 
 COVETOUSNESS THE PRINCIPAL FORM OP SELFISHNESS — IN ITS 
 
 NATURE, FORMS, PREVALENCE, ESPECIALLY IN BRITAIN — 
 
 DISGUISES, TESTS, EVILS, DOOM, AND PLEAS. 
 
 Sect. 1.— The Nature of Covetousness 57 
 
 Sect. 2. — Forms of Covetousness 61 
 
 Sect. 3. — Prevalence of Covetousness 65 
 
Vll CONTENTS, 
 
 Sect. 4.— The present Predominance of Covetousness 
 
 m Britain 81 
 
 Sect. 5. — The Disguises of Covetousness - - - - 97 
 
 Sect. 6. — Tests of Covetousness - - - 106 
 
 Sect. 7. — The Guilt and Evils of Covetousness - - 119 
 Sect. 8. — The Doom of Covetousness ------ 156 
 
 Sect. 9. — Excuses of Covetousness for its want of Lib- 
 erality - 168 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHRISTUN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED AND ENFORCED. 
 
 Sect. 1. — Christian Liberality explained - - - - 205 
 Sect. 2. — Christian Liberality enforced 221 
 
'4. theological/ 
 
 ORIGINAL ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Many of the wisest and best of men are of opinion, that 
 there is no sin so prevalent among professors of the Gospel 
 as the lore of money, and )'et there is no subject on which 
 so little has" been written well. The late Andrew Fuller 
 says, " It will, in all probability, prove the eternal over- 
 throw 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 
 lime 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 aflectionate appeal to the 
 judgment and conscience of those who professedly recog- 
 nise 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 obliga- 
 tions to redeeming mercy, and profess that themselves 
 and all they have is not their own, but belongs and must 
 be accounted for to Him Avho has said, " Occupy till I 
 come ; " then " give an account of thy stewardship, for 
 thou mayest be no longer steward." The work wanted 
 is one that will bear on selfishness, as it leads us to live to 
 ourselves, and not for God and our fellow-men. It is re- 
 quested that reference may be made to the different esti- 
 mates 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 
 2 
 
VIU ORIGINAL ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 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, Baptist Noel, and the 
 Rev. Dr. Pye Smith, have kindly engaged to be the ai'bi- 
 trators, and the award will be" adjudged on the first of 
 May, 1836. 
 
ADJUDICATORS' ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 In the early part of the last year, we were made ac- 
 quainted with the proposal of a Christian friend, John 
 Trickey Conquest, Esq., M. D., F. L. S. to confer a prize 
 of one hundred guineas, (which, with the accompanying 
 expenses, amounts to the donation of about one hundred 
 and fifty guineas,) upon any Essay produced in competi- 
 tion, with the usual precautions to preserve the secrecy of 
 the authors, upon the sin or Covetolsness-, particularly 
 with regard to the duties of piety and beneficence, Avhich, 
 at the present time, are so incumbent on all men, but espe- 
 cially on those who would not abdicate the name of Christ- 
 ians. The request was made that we would be the um- 
 pires in determining to whom, in such a friendly competi- 
 tion, 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 sup- 
 press theriL 
 
 The requisite care was taken, that, till we had given our 
 decision, we should not have the slightest knowledge, or 
 any ground of conjecture whatsoever, concerning the wri- 
 ters of the Essays, wliich were no fewer than one hundred 
 and forty-three. 
 
 After much thought, and humbly seeking, by prayer 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. Con- 
 quest's munificent prize. But we did not arrive at this 
 
X adjudicators' advertisement. 
 
 determination, without a high feeling of gratitude and ad- 
 miration 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 the 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 satis- 
 fied 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 au- 
 thors, 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 extensive and the most important 
 usefulness. 
 
 J. PYE SMITH. 
 
 BAPTIST W. NOEL. 
 
 Near London, June 3, 183G. 
 
•7 PEIXTCHTOII ^^. 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The history of this Essay is sufficiently- 
 explained by the Advertisements prefixed. 
 But concerning its plarij as the reader may 
 possibly expect that the following pages are 
 confined exclusively to the subject of Covet- 
 ousness, the writer may be permitted 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 benevo- 
 lent Proposer, yet it was viewed and spoken 
 of by liim only as a part of the great system 
 of selfishness. The writer felt himself, there- 
 fore, not merely permitted, but virtually re- 
 quired, 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 
 2* 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 it from choice, since he deems it an appropri- 
 ate 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 self- 
 ishness — is the Second and principal Part. 
 Had the writer concluded with this part, he 
 could not have considered the Essay com- 
 plete, unless a closing section has been added, 
 on the Cure of the evil under consideration. 
 In that case, it would have been obvious to 
 insist on a variety of familiar prudential max- 
 ims. 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, as- 
 cend ; and if we would detach the heart from 
 embracing the dust, we must give to it another 
 and a nobler object. The utter ineiScacy of 
 every thing short of this is evident. Hippoc- 
 rates advised a consultation of all the phy- 
 sicians in the world for the cure of covetous- 
 ness. 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 de- 
 
PREFACE. Xni 
 
 nouncing tlie sin, in his epistle to Timothy, 
 Seneca was decrying the same evil, and com- 
 posing his ethics ; but, as if to show the im- 
 potence of his own precepts, "he was accused 
 of having amassed the most ample riches," — a 
 circumstance which, though not the ostensi- 
 ble, was no doubt the real cause of his finally 
 falling a victim to the jealousy of Nero. But 
 if such be the ineflicacy of the precepts of the 
 heathen philosopher, what is the prescription 
 of the Christian apostle ? 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 Jlee the evil, but to follow the op- 
 posite virtues, and to flee the one by following 
 the other. " O man of God, flee these things ; 
 and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, 
 love, patience, meekness .... Charge them 
 that are rich in this world .... that they do 
 good, that they bo rich in good works, ready 
 to distribute, willing to communicate ; laying 
 up in store for themselves 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 
 
XIV PREFACE. 
 
 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 Liberahty. 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 subhmest maxims fail to 
 reach the heart ; but from the moment we 
 begin to be actuated by it, cupidity and all 
 the baser passions are doomed to destruction. 
 
 Diodorus Siculus relates that the forest of 
 the Pyrenean mountains being set on fire, and 
 the heat penetrating to the soil, a pure stream 
 of silver gushed forth from the bosom of the 
 earth and revealed, for the first time, the ex- 
 istence of those rich lodes afterwards so cele- 
 brated. Covetousness yields up its pelf for 
 sacred uses as unwillingly as if it were ap- 
 pointed to succeed the earth in the office of 
 holding and concealing it ; but, let the melt- 
 ing 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 hidden recesses, and becoming 
 " the fine gold of the sanctuary." 
 
 The title which the writer has adopted for 
 the Essay designates covetousness the sin of 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 tlio 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 appre- 
 hension, till it has come to fill the whole 
 sphere of vision, to the exclusion and tempo- 
 rary oblivion of other evils of superior masf- 
 nitude. That covetousness is not the only 
 evil which the Christian church has to con- 
 fess — that it is only one of many evils — he is 
 quite insensible ; and he trusts that the view 
 which he has taken of its surpassing enor- 
 mity is by no means chargeable with the ef- 
 fect of lessening our convictions of those other 
 evils. All the sins of the Christian church 
 stand closely related ; by action and reac- 
 tion they are constantly producing and 
 strengthening each other ; and it is to its su- 
 perior activity and influence in the produc- 
 tion of those other sins that cupidity owes its 
 bad pre-eminence. If the love of money then 
 be the root of the evils in question, a descrip- 
 tion of its deadly nature should have the ef- 
 fect, not of diminishino^, but auofmentins: 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 existinsf defects of the Christian 
 church, as a whole, is to view them first sep- 
 arately and in succession ; and that he who 
 succeeds in laying open and correcting one 
 
.« 
 
 XVI PREFACE, 
 
 of these defects, has gone far towards reme- 
 dying all the rest. With the sincere desire 
 that he maybe 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 
 fruits," he would place this Essay at the 
 feet of Him who deigns to commend the wid- 
 ow's mite. 
 
PART THE FIRST. 
 
 SELFISHNESS THE ANTAGONIST OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
.•;^ raiiTGETGii x-. 
 
 ■/ V, 
 
 ^.THSOLQGI 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 THE UNIVERSE DESIGNED TO DISPLAY AND ENJOY THE LOVE 
 OF GOD. 
 
 " God is love :" — and the true theory of the 
 universe is, that it is a vehicle or medium con- 
 structed expressly for the circulation and diffu- 
 sion 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 approach- 
 ing as near to the Fountain of excellence as cre- 
 ated natures can, to derive their happiness imme- 
 diately 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; he must enlarge the 
 sphere of his beneficence; again his unconfined 
 goodness overflowed, and this terrestrial creation 
 appeared — an enlargement 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 
 
IS THE LOVE OF GOD. 
 
 angels derived from Himself, should reach him 
 through more indirect and circuitous channels. 
 By creating, at first, one 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 good- 
 ness, 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 
 cnjoi/, the latter was intended to show how 
 nmch they could impart; for he meant every 
 heart and every hand to be a consecrated chan- 
 nel 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 ban- 
 quet of beneficence ; hailing the accession of 
 every new-born member as the advent of an an- 
 gel, an addition to their common fund of enjoy- 
 ment ; and finding greater blessedness than that 
 of passively receiving happiness in exercising 
 the godlike |)rerogative of imparting it ; — a whole 
 order of intelligent beings, having one heart, and 
 one mind ; a heart beating in concert with heav- 
 en, and ditfusing, with every pulse, life, and 
 health, and joy, to the remotest members of the 
 body. The mere outline of the scene, as sketch- 
 
THE LOVE OF GOD. 19 
 
 ed by God in pnrndisc, called forth audible ex- 
 pressions of his divine coni[)laccncy ; on survey- 
 in*^ it from the hei<;ht of the excellent fj^lory, he 
 pronounced it ^^ood, and the light of his counte- 
 nance 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 type 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 en- 
 deavor to construct an empire, governed by 
 laws and replenished with resources, indepen- 
 dent of God. The idolatry and sensuality, the 
 unbelief, irreligion, 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 his own sufficiency, his own first and last. 
 
 Such, however, is the intimate dependence of 
 man on man, that it is impossible for him to at- 
 
SIN, A FRUSTRATION OF GOd's PLAN. 21 
 
 tempt to 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 at- 
 traction 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. Hav- 
 ing lost its proper centre in God, the world at- 
 tempts not to find any common point of repose, 
 but spends itself in fruitless efforts to erect an 
 infinity of independent interests. Every king- 
 dom and province, every family, every individual, 
 discovers a propensity to insulate himself from 
 the common brotherhood, and to constitute him- 
 self 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 
 
22 SIN, A FRUSTRATION OF GOD S PLAN. 
 
 all the earth become a battle-fiekl, in which the 
 issues to be decided would be as numerous as 
 the combatants, so that tlie conllict could end 
 only with the destruction of every antaffonist. 
 
 There is, be it observed, a wide difference 
 between selfishness and legitimate selt-love. This 
 is a principle necessary to ail sentient existence. 
 In man, it is the principle which impels him to 
 preserve his own life, and promote his own hap- 
 piness. Not only is it consistent with ])iety, it is 
 the stock 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 hapj)iness 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. 
 
SECTION III 
 
 ALf, SIN IS SEf-FISHNESS. 
 
 Accordingly, selfishness, as we have already 
 intimated, is the universal form of human de- 
 pravity ; every sin that can be named is only a 
 modification of it. What is avarice, but selfish- 
 ness graspinjr and hoarding ? What is prodigal- 
 ity, but selfishness decorating and indulging it- 
 self — a man sacrificing to himself as his own 
 god ? What is sloth, but tliat god asleep, and 
 refusing to attend to the loud calls of duty 1 
 And wliat is idolatry, but that god enshrined — 
 man, worshipping the reflection of his own im- 
 age ? Sensuality, 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 egot- 
 ism, but selfishness speaking ? Or crime, but 
 selfishness, without its mask, in earnest, and 
 3* 
 
24 
 
 ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. 
 
 acting ? Or offensive war, but selfishness con- 
 federated, armed, and bent on aggrandizing it- 
 self by violence and blood ? An offensive army 
 is the selfishness of a nation embodied, and mov- 
 ing 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 lusts ? " 
 And what are all these irregular and passionate 
 desires, but that inordinate self-love which ac- 
 knowledges no law, and will be confined by no 
 rules — that selfishness which is the heart of de- 
 pravity ? — and what but this has set the world 
 at variance, and filled it with strife ? The first 
 presumed sin of the angels that kept not their 
 first estate, as well as the first sin of man, — 
 what was it but selfishness insane 1 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 ? And were we to analyze 
 the very last sin of which we ourselves are con- 
 scious, we should discover that selfishness, in 
 one or other of its thousand forms, was its 
 parent. Thus, if love was the pervading prin- 
 ciple of the unfallen creation, it is equally cer- 
 tain 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 selfish- 
 ness, the epidemic disease of our nature. The 
 expedient which should profess to remedy our 
 condition, and yet leave this want unprovided 
 for, whatever its other recommendations might 
 
ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. ^O 
 
 be, would be leaving tlie seat and core of our 
 disease unlouclicd. And it would be easy to 
 show that in this radical defect consist the im- 
 potence of every system of false religion, and of 
 every heterodox 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 interpreted, not only takes 
 cognizance of this peculiar feature of our mal- 
 ady, 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 selfishnesss, so the first ef- 
 fect of the gospel remedy is to destroy that evil, 
 and to replace it with benevolence. 
 
SECTION IV 
 
 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM OF BENEVOLENCE, OPPOSED TO 
 SELFISHNESS. 
 
 It is the glory of the gospel that it was calcu- 
 lated and arranged on the principle of restoring 
 to the world the lost spirit of benevolence. To 
 realise this enterprise of boundless mercy, Je- 
 hovah 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, have the effect of 
 converting his angels into seraphs, and his ser- 
 aphs into flames of fire. The ocean of the divine 
 love was stirred to its utmost depths. The en- 
 tire Godhead was — if with profound reverence it 
 may be said — put into activity. The three glori- 
 ous subsistencies in the Divine Essence moved 
 towards our earth. Every attribute and distinc- 
 tion of the Divine Nature was displayed : the 
 Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, em- 
 barked their infinite treasures in the cause of 
 human happiness. 
 
GOSPEL OrrOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 27 
 
 " God so loved the world, that he gave his 
 only heorotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
 him should not perish, but have everlasting life." 
 He could not give us more ; and the vast propen- 
 sions of his grace could not be satisfied by be- 
 stowing 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, to give 
 us his all at once. " Herein is love ! " — love de- 
 fying all computation : the very mention of which 
 should surcharge our hearts with gratitude, give 
 us an idea of infinity, and replace our selfislmess 
 with a sentiment of generous and ditfusive be- 
 nevolence. 
 
 Jesus Christ came into the world as the em- 
 bodied 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 char- 
 acter of God, that every human being should feel 
 it to be looking on himself, casting an aspect of 
 benignity on himself " He pleased not him- 
 self " lie did notliing 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 ])lanted 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 
 
28 
 
 took our place in the universe, absorbed our in- 
 terest, 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 bj the repulsive power of selfish- 
 ness. He proposed by the power of the cross to 
 *' draw all men unto 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 condescen- 
 sion ; 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 character is a study of goodness — a study 
 for the universe ; it is the conception of a Being 
 of infinite amiableness ; seeking to engage and 
 enamor 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 
 principle of a laborious endeavor to recall the 
 departed spirit of benevolence — to baptize it 
 afresh in the element of love. 
 
 The oflSce of the Holy Spirit is appointed and 
 concurs to the same end. Tlie world could not 
 be surprised out of its selfishness, and charmed 
 into benevolence by the mere spectacle even of 
 divine love. Thcit love can be understood only 
 by sympathy j but for this, sin had disqualified 
 
OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 29 
 
 U8. According to the economy of grace, there- 
 fore, 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 
 end, the holy, unconfined and infinite Spirit 
 came down. His emblem is the wind : 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 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 happi- 
 ness, — these were the things which he was to re- 
 veal, — the softening and subduing elements with 
 which he was to apj^roach and enter the human 
 heart. In his hands, these truths were to be- 
 come 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 of the great love wherewith he had loved 
 them, was to fill their minds with 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 
 
30 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, 
 
 the communicativeness of fire was to extend to 
 tlieir fellow-men. Every weapon of revenge 
 was to fall from their hands ; every epithet of 
 anger was to die on their lips ; and where, be- 
 fore, they saw nothing bat foes, they were hence- 
 forth 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 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 restored and related to all around ; 
 the sworn and appointed agents of happiness to 
 the world. 
 
 The institution of a church,' is only the con- 
 tinuation and application of the great scheme of 
 love. Its offices were not to terminate on itself. 
 It was constructed on the principle of consoli- 
 dating and facilitating the operations of divine 
 benevolence upon the world. The Son of God — 
 the great manifestation of that love — must per- 
 sonally withdraw from the earth ; but his church, 
 consisting of the aggregate of all on whom that 
 love had taken effect, would continue to give vis- 
 ibility and activity to that love. He stopped not 
 at the bare exhibition of his grace, but turned 
 ♦hat exhibition into a means of implanting a 
 
OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 31 
 
 kindred principle of love in the human heart : he 
 stopped not at the implantation of this principle, 
 but instituted a church for the express ])urpose 
 of enij)loyin<5 it for the benefit of the world ; of 
 employinrj 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, every thing would 
 conspire to keep alive in its members the new 
 principle which Christ had brought into the 
 world, and to give efficiency to its benign opera- 
 tions. Love was the principle which would 
 bring them together, which would draw them 
 from their distant and detached position, harmo- 
 nize their jarring natures, and fuse all their 
 hearts and interests into one. ConverjriniT from 
 tile most opposite points, they would meet at the 
 cross ; and the principle which 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 liimself in par- 
 ticular. Here, love, as an agent or instrument, 
 either giving or receiving, was to find itself in 
 perpetual exercise, and to behold its image re- 
 liected in every face. 
 
 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 wliich it glowed find- 
 ing itself allied to every other Christian heart, 
 and the w hole feeling themselves reinforced with 
 the benevolence of Heaven, would meditate the 
 1 
 
32 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, 
 
 conversionof the world. As often as they ap- 
 proached the throne of grace, they would find 
 themselves touching the springs of universal and 
 almighty love, — and would they not yearn to be- 
 hold 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 selfishness of their nature would 
 be consumed, the most enlarged designs of be- 
 nevolence would seem too small, the most costly 
 sacrifices too 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 circumfer- 
 ence. As often as they surveyed their infinite 
 resources in Christ, and perceived that when all 
 their own necessities were supplied those re- 
 sources were infinite still, they would naturally 
 remember the exigencies of others ; would feel 
 that they had access to the whole, that they might 
 instrumentally impart of that abundance to oth- 
 ers. The feast would be prepared, the provi- 
 sions infinite ; and when they were seated at the 
 banquet,, and contrasted that plentitude of food 
 with the fewness of the guests, they would con- 
 ceive 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 pos- 
 sible for them to have their minds inhabited by 
 the glorious idea of Christ without receiving cor- 
 responding impressions of greatness ? — It would 
 
OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 33 
 
 be associated in their minds with all things 
 great, beneficent, godlike, impelling them to im- 
 itate to the utmost his diffusive goodness. But 
 not only their namc^ 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 world remained unblessed, and unsaved, they 
 would feel that their happiness was incomplete. 
 Nothing less than the salvation of the whole 
 world 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 the meal, was to pervade and assimilate the 
 entire mass of humanity. At first, it would re- 
 semble an impcrium in impcriOy a dominion of 
 love flourishing amidst arid wastes of selfishness ; 
 but, extending on all sides its peaceful conquests, 
 it would be seen transforming 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 op- 
 position — the omnipotent power of love. Thus 
 thawing, and turning into its own substance, the 
 icy selfishness of humanity, the great principle 
 
34 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, 
 
 of benevolence would flow through tlie world 
 with all the majesty of a river, widening and 
 deepening at every point of its progress by llie 
 accession of a thousand streams, till it covered 
 the earth as the waters cover the sea. Tiiey 
 who, under the reign of selfishness, had souglit 
 to contract the circle of happiness 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 diffuse 
 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 labor 
 till all the race were blended in a family com- 
 pact, and were partaking together the rich bless- 
 ings of salvation; till, by their instrumentality, 
 the hand of Christ had carried a golden chain of 
 love around the world, binding the whole togeth- 
 er, and all to the throne of God. 
 
 It is clear, then, that the entire economy of 
 salvation is constructed on the principle of re- 
 storing to the world the lost spirit of love : this 
 is its boast and glory. Its advent was an era in 
 the universe. It was bringing to a trial the rel- 
 ative strength of love 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 system of benevo- 
 lence 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 
 
OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 35 
 
 must suppose that it was studiously adapted for 
 the lofty encounter. With this conviction, there- 
 fore, 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 de- 
 feat 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 has its object been realised 1 More than 
 eighteen hundred years have elapsed since it 
 was brought into operation, — has its design suc- 
 ceeded ? Succeeded ! Alas ! the question seems 
 a taunt, a mockery. We pass, in thought, from 
 the picture we have drawn of what the gospel 
 was intended 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 happiness to 
 find the cup of wretchedness in his hand, the 
 pleasing vision has fled. Selfishness is every- 
 where rife and rampant. 
 
 But why is it thus ? why has the gospel been 
 liitherto threatened with the failure of a mere 
 liuinan experiment 1 When first put into activi- 
 ty did it dicover any want of adaptation to its 
 professed purpose ? The recollection that God 
 is its author, forbids the thought. It is the wis- 
 dom of God, and the poicer of God. But be- 
 sides this, as if to anticipate the question, and to 
 suggest the only reply, — as if in all ages to agi- 
 tate an inquiry int6 the apparent inefficacy of 
 4- 
 
36 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, 
 
 the gospel, and to flash conviction in the face of 
 the church as often as the question is raised, 
 when first the gospel commeiiced its career, it tri- 
 umphed in every place. No form of selfishness 
 could stand before it. It went forth conquer- 
 ing and to conquer. " And all that believed 
 were together, and had all things common ; 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 con- 
 strained 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 Savior who had bequeathed hap- 
 piness to man ; guardians of the most sacred 
 lights in the universe. In the execution of their 
 godlike trust, death confronted them at every 
 step : persecution, armed, brought out all its ap- 
 paratus of terror and torture, and planted itself 
 full in their path : but none of these things 
 moved them ; they scarcely saw them ; they 
 went on prosecuting their lofty task of making 
 the world happy, for they were actuated by a 
 love stronger than death. The world was taken 
 by surprise, — never before had it beheld such 
 men, — every thing gave way before them, — city 
 after city, and province after province, capitu- 
 lated, — yet the whole secret of their i)ower was 
 
OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 37 
 
 love. Diversified as they were in mind, country, 
 condition, age — one interest prevailed ; one sub- 
 ject of emulation swallowed up every other — 
 wliich should do most for the enlargement of the 
 reign of love. A fire had been kindled in the 
 earth, which consumed the selfishness of men 
 wherever it came. 
 
SECTION V 
 
 SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE WORLD, HAS LONG SINCE BECOME 
 THE SIN OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 Again, then, we repeat the momentous in- 
 quiry, — 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 mass 
 of humanity, with the one spirit of divine be- 
 nevolence ? why, on the contrary, has the gos- 
 pel, the great instrument of divine love, been 
 threatened, age after age, with failure 1 Ozving, 
 soldi/, to the treachery of tJiosc icJio have had 
 the administraiion of it ; owing, entirely, to the 
 selfishness of the church. No element essential 
 to success has been left out of its arrangements ; 
 all those elements have always been in the pos- 
 session of the church ; no new form of evil has 
 arisen in the world; no antagonist has appeared 
 
SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE CHURCH. 39 
 
 there which the gospel did not encounter and 
 subdue in its first onset ; yet, at this advanced 
 stage of its existence, when it oujrht to be repos- 
 ing from the conquest of the world, the church 
 listens to an account of its early triumph, as if 
 they were meant only for wonder, and not for 
 imitation ; as if they partook too much of the 
 romance of benevolence to be again attempted ; 
 — now, when it ought to be holding the world 
 in fee, it is barely occupying a few scattered 
 ])rovii)ces, as if by sufferance, and has to begin 
 its conflicts again. And, we repeat, the only 
 adequate explanation of this appalling fact is, 
 that selfishness, the sin of the world, has become 
 the jn'cvailing sin of the church. 
 
 Uhis statement, indeed, may, at first sight, ap- 
 pear inconsistent with the truth, that the church 
 is the only 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 partially 
 depraved — containing in it, indeed, a divine 
 principle of renovation, and a principle which is 
 destined finally to triumph, but which has, mean- 
 while, to maintain its ground by perpetual con- 
 flict, and, at times, to struggle even for existence. 
 While viewed collectively, the church may be 
 legarded in the 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 
 
40 SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE WORLD. 
 
 the healing process. It depends, therefore, o'^ 
 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 aban- 
 doned themselves 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 effects of their original disease, 
 and their healing instrumentality 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 ardor of its first love, to the cold 
 selfishness which it afterwards exhibited. View- 
 ed in its primitive state, it appears a flaming 
 sacrifice, offering itself up in the fires of a self- 
 consuming zeal for the salvation of the world. 
 But viewed again after the lapse of a few centu- 
 ries — how changed the spectacle ! — it is offering 
 up that very world to its own selfishness ! Its 
 own fires are burnt out ; and it is seen kindling 
 the strange fires of another sacrifice ; devoting 
 and presenting the world as a victim at its vari- 
 ous shrines of wealth, and pride, and power. 
 From being an image of the divine disinterested- 
 ness and love, extorting the admiration of the 
 world, and winning men to an imitation of its 
 benevolence, it passed through the various stages 
 of spiritual declension, calculating consequences, 
 
SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE CHURCH. 41 
 
 growing indifferent to its peculiar duties, turning 
 its influence into worldly channels, subordinating 
 every tiling sacred to worldly greatness and gain, 
 till it had become a monstrous personification of 
 an all-grasping selfishness, from which the world 
 itself might derive hints and lessons on the art of 
 self-aggrandizement, but derive them in vain for 
 its own escape. 
 
 Instead, however, of enlarging on the early op- 
 erations of selfishness, 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 long and triumphant as its reign has been, 
 its days are numbered. The gospel is not to 
 sustain a final defeat. The church of Christ is 
 yet to realise the glorious intentions of its Heav- 
 enly 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 contingent. The past has, 
 at least, demonstrated its vitality; the present is 
 evincing its elasticity; the future shall bear wit- 
 ness to its triumphs, so that in aiming to indicate 
 the movements and operations of its great antag- 
 onist, selfishness, we feel that wc are contribut- 
 ing, in however humble a degree, to retrieve its 
 lost honors, and to point it the way to victory. 
 
SECTION VI 
 
 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 Of selfishness it may be said, as of its arche- 
 type. Satan, that it "takes all shapes that serve 
 its dark designs." One of the most frequent 
 forms in which it appears is that of ])arty spirit ; 
 and which, for the sake of distinction, may be 
 denominated the selfishness of the sect. Circum- 
 stances, perhaps, inevitable to humanity in its 
 present probationary state, have distributed the 
 Christian church into sections ; but as the points 
 of difference, which have divided it, are, /or 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 ne- 
 cessitate more than circumstantial division : there 
 is every thing in their principles of agreement 
 to produce and perpetuate substantial oneness, 
 and cordial love. But this the demon of selfish- 
 ness forbids. It erects the points of difference 
 into tests of piety. It resents any real, dignity 
 otiered by the world to the entire church, far less 
 
FORMS OF SELFISHNESS IN THE CHURCH. 43 
 
 than it resents any supjiosed insult ofi'ered by 
 other .sections of the church to its own party. 
 Tile general welfare is nothing in its eye, com- 
 pared with its own particular aggrandizement. 
 When Christians should have been making com- 
 mon cause against the world, selfishness is call- 
 ing on its followers to arm, and, turning each 
 section of the church into a battlemented for- 
 tress, 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, de- 
 voting its passions like so much consecrated 
 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 indiscriminating world, the unamiable\ 
 and paradoxical spectacle of a system which has \ 
 the power of attracting all classes to itself, but '^ 
 of repelling them all from each other — forget- 
 ting, that in the former they see Christianity 
 triumphing over selfishness, and in the latter 
 selfishness defeating Christianity. 
 
 Bigotry is another of the forms in which an 
 inordinate 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 members of the 
 5 
 
44 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 
 
 family of Christ. The great scheme of mercy 
 originated in a love which consented to overlook 
 the enmity and tierce rebellion of its objects, or 
 rather, which looked on that enmity only to pity 
 and provide for its removal ; but those who pro- 
 fess to have been the objects of that love, will 
 not allow each other the liberty of the sliglitest 
 conscientious difierence, without resenting that 
 difference as as a personal and meditated atiront ; 
 as if the natural enmity of their hearts against 
 God had only changed its direction, and had 
 found its legitimate objects in his people. Under 
 a pretence of zeal for God, bigotry violates the 
 sanctuary of conscience, and creates an inquisi- 
 tion in the midst of the church. Erecting its 
 own creed into a standard of universal belief, it 
 would fain call down fire from heaven, or kindle 
 a furnace seven times hotter than an ordinary 
 anger would demand, for all who presume to 
 question its infalliblity : — thus justifying the 
 world in representing the odium theologicum as 
 a concentration of all that is fierce, bitter, and 
 destructive, in the human heart. The Lord they 
 profess to obey, would have them to embrace 
 with a comprehensive affection all who exhibit 
 the least traces of his image ; but the strongest 
 traits, the most marked conformity to his like- 
 ness, is a very uncertain introduction to their 
 hearts compared with a likeness of creed. 
 
 Nearly akin to this is, what, for the sake of 
 convenience, may be denominated the selfishness 
 of the pulpit ; that fearful spirit which presumes 
 to limit what God meant to be universal — the 
 
IN THE CHURCH, 45 
 
 overtures of redemption to a ruined world. Self- 
 isliness, indeed, in this repulsive form, is of 
 comparjitively limited existence ; and as if by a 
 judicial arraug^ement of providence, it is com- 
 monly, in our day, associated with errors and 
 tempers so unamiahle that its own nature forbids 
 it to become general. It daringly undertakes to 
 "number Israel;" to determine 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 respon- 
 sibility they would tremble to incur. The j^ospel 
 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 inflexd)ility 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 tlie 
 stigma of exclusiveness. Put the aflairs 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, 
 
46 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 
 
 would not cease to exchange smiles radiant with 
 self-complacency while continuing to cater to 
 their own pampered 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 perverting that which 
 was meant to be the destruction of selfishness, 
 into its very aliment and nurse ; they know not, 
 that, next to the destruction of the gospel, they 
 could not furnish Satan with a greater triumph 
 than thus to silence its inviting voice, and to sup- 
 press 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 hori- 
 zon ; to demonstrate that nothing is too mon- 
 strous 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 scIJisJmess of the peiv, is another form of 
 the same pervading evil ; incomparably less per- 
 nicious, indeed, than the last mentioned, but far 
 more extensive in its existence. This is that 
 modification of selfish piety which lives only to 
 he personcdly comforted ; which, in ail 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, cry- 
 ing, *' Give, give, and is never satisfied." The 
 divine Redeemer describes the faithful shepherd 
 as leaving the ninety and nine sheep for a time, 
 
IX THE CHURCH. 47 
 
 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 im- 
 patient if the cup of consolation be removed 
 from its lips for a moment, though that moment 
 was only seized to say to a famishing multitude, 
 " Come now, for all things are ready." Devout 
 only in little things, it cannot bear to have its 
 mind diverted from its own personal and partic- 
 ular state, even though the sight to which its at- 
 tention 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 sub- 
 ject unnecessarily on its attention. The ampli- 
 tude 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 no glory in that 
 love, but as it embraces a single point, and that 
 point itself 
 
 Consistent with itself, this same spirit, if fol- 
 lowed from public into private, is found to be- 
 come the srljishness of the closet. It penetrates 
 oven 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 
 5* 
 
48 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 
 
 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 ? 
 — a number of needy suppliants returning daily 
 to his throne, a large proportion of whom are as 
 unmindful of each other as if each came from a 
 different world, and represented a distinct race 
 of beings ; as completely absorbed in their re- 
 spective 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 dis- 
 owns kindred with all, deserts the common in- 
 terest, and strives for himself alone. They come 
 and lay their hand upon the springs of an agen- 
 cy, which, if put in motion, would diffuse happi- 
 ness through the Vvorld ; but they leave that 
 agency unsolicited and unmoved. The blessed 
 God calls them into his presence, partly that 
 they might catch the radiance of his throne, and 
 transmit it to a world immeised 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 
 
IN THE CIIURni. 49 
 
 tlie race; but instead of imploring the divine at- 
 tention 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 assembly of heaven ; but, in contraven- 
 tion 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 affecting view is this of 
 the power of selfishness, and of the infinite pa- 
 tience of God in bearing with it. 
 
 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 ^^e 
 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 he 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 instrumen- 
 tality for the enlargement of his kingdom, he in- 
 tended to give them an opportunity of evincing 
 their love to his name, and of consecrating all 
 the means they could abstract from the neces- 
 sary demands of time, to the great cause of sal- 
 vation. It was only warrantable to expect, that 
 the exhibition of his love, and the claims of his 
 kingdom, coming with full force upon their 
 
50 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 
 
 hearts, would over\yhelm all worldly considera- 
 tions ; that they would bring forth their wealth, 
 and present it with the ardent devotion of an of- 
 fering; 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 in- 
 stantly devise a plan of self-denial, each one 
 for himself, the object of which should be to aug- 
 ment, to the utmost, their contributions to his 
 cause ; that nothing but the fruits of such ^elf- 
 denial would be dignified with the name of 
 Christian charity ; and that the absence of such 
 self-denial and the consequent fruits of it, would 
 be regarded as a forfeiture of the Christian name ; 
 that the church, as " the 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 triflmg. " All seek 
 their own, not the things which are Jesus 
 Christ'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 ea- 
 gerly, and wasting their substance as selfishly, 
 as the world around them. 
 
 They seek their worldly prosperity. They 
 
IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 51 
 
 know of nothinr^ equal to thai. Every thing is 
 made to give way to that. The cause of Christ 
 itself must wait for that, and is only lield secon- 
 dary to it. What ! neglect 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 con- 
 sequence. And thus, while God has to com- 
 plain of them as slothful and unfaithful in his 
 service, Mammon can hoast of them as among 
 his most diligent and devoted servants. 
 
 They seek their worldly ease and enjoyment. 
 Self, self, is the idol to wiiich they are perpetu- 
 ally sacrificing ; the monster, whose ravenous 
 appetite they are perpetually feasting, and which 
 eats up nearly all they have. So great is the 
 cost of dressing and decorating this idol, of serv- 
 ing and feasting it, of consulting its voracious 
 appetites, and ministering to its various gratifi- 
 cations, 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 
 parallejed 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 majority were to be purchased by the con- 
 stant tribute of the blood of not a few ! that hath 
 devoured more and preyed more cruelly upon 
 
52 
 
 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 
 
 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 an- 
 tagonist 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 him- 
 self? — which renders many a congregation of 
 professing Christians a company of inactive use- 
 less men, assembling merely for their own reli- 
 gious ends, and separating only to pursue their 
 own worldlly ends, as 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 disquietude and weak- 
 ness ? — and which makes that church the scorn 
 of an infidel world, instead of its boast and glory ? 
 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 ? 
 and the church of its promised prosperity ? and 
 the world of the redemptiotj provided for it? 
 Well has self been denominated the great Anti- 
 christ; for, thoui^rh it may not be the antichrist 
 of prophecy which is to appear in the latter day, 
 
 * Howe. 
 
IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 53 
 
 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 seek their own, not the things 
 which are Jesus Christ's." 
 
 That we do not exaggerate its pernicious pow- 
 er, 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 termi- 
 nating in itself, would go to God, and plead for 
 the world. Piety, no longer seeking after com- 
 fort as an end, would find it without seeking ; 
 find it in the paths of Christian activity and use- 
 fulness. 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 glory, into which every Christian 
 would cast the savings of his self-denial as appro- 
 priate fuel for feeding a flame so sacred. A love 
 which would yearn over the whole human race ; 
 zeal which would be constantly devising fresh 
 
54 FORMS OF SELFISHNESS IN THE CHURCH. 
 
 methods of usefulness, denying itself, and lay- 
 ing 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 community. 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 would fear him. 
 
 Now, of all this, selfishness is defrauding 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, in- 
 cense, and joy. 
 
PART THE SECOND. 
 
 COVETOUSNESS. — THE PRINCIPAL FORM OF SELFISH- 
 NESS, — IN ITS NATURE, FORM, PREVALENCE, ES- 
 PECIALLY IN BRITAIN, DISGUISES, TESTS, EVILS, 
 DOOM, AND PLEAS. 
 
SECTION I 
 
 THE NATURE OF COVETODSNESS. 
 
 If selfishness be the prevailino^ form of sin, 
 covetousness may be regarded as the prevailing 
 form of selfishness. This is strikingly intimated 
 by the apostle Paul, when, describing the "peril- 
 ous 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 out- 
 line 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 suflnce to show that, 
 while the other forms of selfishness are partial 
 in their existence, this is universal ; that it lies 
 in our daily path, and surrounds us like the at- 
 mosphere ; that it exceeds all others in the 
 plausibility of its pretences, and the insidiousness 
 of its operations ; that it is, commonly, the last 
 
58 THE NATURE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 forms of selfishness which leaves the heart ; and 
 that Christians, 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 pro- 
 fessing 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 instru- 
 ment of the world's conversion, surely nothing 
 more can be necessary to reveal the ajipalling 
 magnitude of the evil, and to justify every at- 
 tempt 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 en- 
 joyment. 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 ave- 
 nues of worldly enjoyment. But as the exist- 
 ence of this conventional arrangement renders 
 the possession of some amount of property indis- 
 pensable, the application of the term covetousness 
 has come to be confined almost exclusively to an 
 inordinate and selfish regard for money. 
 
 Our liablity to this sin arises, we say, from the 
 
THE NATURE OF COVETOUSNESS. 59 
 
 perception that " money answereth all things." 
 Riches in themselves, indeed, are no evil. Nor 
 is the bare possession of tliem wrong. Nor is 
 the desire to possess them sinful, provided that 
 desire exist under certain restrictions. For in 
 almost every stage of civilization money is requi- 
 site to procure the conveniences, 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 instru- 
 ment of great relative usefulness; to seek it, 
 then, as the means of doing good, is not a vice, 
 but a virtue. But, perceiving that money is so 
 important an agent in society ; — that it not only 
 fences off the wants and woes of poverty, but 
 that, like a centre of attraction, it can draw to 
 itself every object of worldly desire from the 
 farthest circumference; — the temptation arises 
 of desiring it inordinately; of even desiring it 
 for its own sake ; of supposing that the instru- 
 ment of procuring so much jTood must itself pos- 
 sess 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 as- 
 pects. No classification of its multiplied forms, 
 indeed, can, from the nature of things, be rigor- 
 ously exact. All its branches and modifications 
 run into each other, and are separated by grada- 
 tions rather than by lines of demarcation. The 
 6* 
 
60 THE NATURE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 most obvious and general distinction, perhaps, is 
 that which divides it into the desire of getting^ 
 as contradistinguished from the desire of ^'cepm^ 
 that which is already possessed. But each of 
 these divisions is capable of subdivision. World- 
 liness, rapacity, and an ever-craving, all-con- 
 suming prodigality, may belong to the one ; and 
 parsimony, niggardliness, and avarice to the 
 other. The word covetousness, however^ is pop- 
 ularly employed as synonymous with each of 
 these terms, and as comprehensive of them all. 
 
SECTION II. 
 
 FORMS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 By worldlincs^^ we mean cupidity in its earli- 
 est, most plausible, and most prevailing form : 
 not yet sutTiciently 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 prin- 
 ciple which abounds most with excuses ; which 
 is seldom questioned even by the majority of pro- 
 fessing Christians ; 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 industry ; 
 and which thus silently works the dstruction of 
 multitudes without alarming them. 
 
 Rapacity is 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 
 
62 
 
 FORMS OP COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 for it ; success is looked on as a reward and a 
 spur; failure as a punishment for some relaxa- 
 tion of the passion ; the weahh 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 tardi- 
 ness of industry, and the scruples of integrity, 
 and thinks only of the readiest way to success. 
 Impatient of delay, it scorns to wait for intima- 
 tions of the divine will or to watch the move- 
 ments of Povidence; 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 ex- 
 press 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 compendium of all kinds of worldly good, or 
 so much condensed world, it is mostly desired for 
 the sake of the gratifications which it can pur- 
 chase ; it is sought and valued as a kind of con- 
 centrated essence, which can be diluted at pleas- 
 ure, and adapted to the taste of every one who 
 possesses it. But avarice is content with 
 
FORMS OF COVETOUSNESS. G3 
 
 the bare possession of tlie essence ; stopping 
 short at the means, it is satisfied without tlie 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 utili- 
 ty, or its application to practical purposes, would 
 be almost felt as a profanation. Other vices 
 have a particular view to enjoyment, (falsely so 
 called,) hut the very term miser is a confession 
 of the misery which attends avarice; for, in or- 
 der 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 abandoned as age and experi- 
 ence 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 parox- 
 ysms, and intermit; but avarice is a distemper 
 which knows no intervals. Other ])assicns have 
 their times of relaxation ; but avarice is a tyrant 
 wliich never suffers its slaves to rest. It is the 
 fabled dragon with its golden fleece, and with 
 lidless and unslumbering eyes it keeps Avatch 
 and ward night and day. 
 
64 
 
 FORMS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 Prodigality^ though directly opposed to ava- 
 rice or hoarding, is quite compatible with cupid- 
 ity ; 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 occurrence. And 
 we notice it here to show, that although men may 
 occasionally be heard pleading their extravagance 
 to clear themselves from the charge of cupidity, 
 it yet originates in the same cause, produces pre- 
 cisely the same effects, employs the same sinful 
 means of gratification, and incurs the same doom. 
 They must be covetous, that they may be prodi- 
 gal : one hand must collect, that the other may 
 have wherewith to scatter: covetousness, as the 
 steward to prodigality, must furnish supplies, and 
 is often goaded into rapacity, that it may raise 
 them. Thus prodigality strengthens covetous- 
 ness by keeping it in constant activity, and cov- 
 etousness strengthens prodigality 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 cupid- 
 ity, it stands to every benevolent object in the 
 same relation as avarice — it has nothing to give. 
 A system of extravagant expenditure rerjders be- 
 nevolence impossible, and keeps a man con- 
 stantly poor towards God. 
 
SECTION III. 
 
 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS, 
 
 To the charge of covetousness, under one or 
 other of tliese various forms, how large a propor- 
 tion of mankind, and even of professing Chris- 
 tians, must plead guilty ! It is true, indeed, 
 that all these modifications of covetousness, can- 
 not co-exist in the same mind, for some of them 
 are destructive of each other; and such is the anx- 
 iety of men to escape from the hateful charge 
 entirely, that, finding they are exempt from some 
 of its forms, they flatter themselves that they are 
 guiltless of all. But this delusion, in most cases, 
 indicates the mournful probahility, that the evil, 
 besides having taken up its abode within them, 
 has assunied there a form and a name so plausi- 
 ble, 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 may acquire, 
 and through along life maintain, a character for 
 liberality and spirit, while his heart all the time 
 
66 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 goeth after his covetousness. His hand, like a 
 channel, may be ever open ; and, because his in- 
 come is perpetually flowing through it, the unre- 
 flecting world, taken with appearances, hold 
 him up as a pattern of generosity ; but the entire 
 current is absorbed by his own selfishness. That 
 others are indirectly benefited by his profusion, 
 does not enter into his calculations; he thinks 
 only of his own gratification. It is true his mode 
 of hving may employ others ; but he is the idol 
 of the temple — they are only priests in his ser- 
 vice ; and the prodigalhy 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' prosperi- 
 ty ; 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 em- 
 ployed, 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 be- 
 nevolence may open around him in all direc- 
 tions ; but as far as he is concerned, those chan- 
 nels must remain dry ; for, like the sands of the 
 desert, he absorbs all the bounty which Heaven 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 67 
 
 rains on him, and still craves for more. What 
 but tliis is commonly meant by the expression 
 concerning such a man, that "he is living up to 
 his income 1 " The undisguised interpretation 
 is, that he is engrossing to himself all that be- 
 nevolence which should be diti'used throughout 
 the world; that he is appropriating all that por- 
 tion of the divine bounty with which he has been 
 intrusted, and which he ought to share with the 
 rest of mankind ; and that he is thus disabling 
 liimself for all the calls and claims of Christian 
 charity. Alas! that so large a proportion of 
 professing Christians should be, at this moment, 
 sy sternal ically incapicitating themselves for any 
 tiling more than scanty driblets of charity, by 
 their unnecessary 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 inillion. 
 
 A man may defy a charge of avarice, in the 
 aggravated sense of that term, to be substantia- 
 ted 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 his soul for gain." Now, 
 the injurious effect of such exaggerated repre- 
 sentations is, men, conscious that their parsimo- 
 ny does not resemble such a character, ac([uit 
 themselves of the charge of covetousness alto- 
 7 
 
68 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 gether. Unable to recognise in this disguised 
 and distorted picture of the vice their own like- 
 ness, they flatter themselves into a behef of their 
 entire innocence, as if the advice admitted of no 
 degrees, and none were guilty if not as guilty as 
 possible. 
 
 But, though a man may not merit to be de- 
 nominated avaricious, he may yet be parsimoni- 
 ous. He may not be a Dead Sea, ever receiving, 
 and never imparting; but yet he may be as un- 
 like the Nile, when, overflowing its banks, it 
 leaves a rich deposit on the neighboring lands. 
 His domestic economy is a system of penurious- 
 ness, hateful to servants, visiters, and friends; 
 from which every thing generous has fled, and 
 in which even every thing necessary comes with 
 the air of being begrudored, of existing only by 
 sufferance. In his dealing with others, he seems 
 to act under the impression that mankind have 
 conspired to defraud him, and the consequence 
 is, that his conduct often amounts to a construc- 
 tive 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 worth. He looks on every thing given to 
 charity, as so much lost, thrown away, and for 
 which there will never be any return. If a be- 
 nevolent appeal surprise him into an act of unu- 
 sual 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 compla- 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 69 
 
 cently on himself for having bestowed a benevo- 
 1(MU mile, as if he liad performed an act of piety, 
 for which nothing less than heaven would be an 
 adequate reward. His soul not only never ex- 
 pands to the warmth of benevolence, but con- 
 tracts at the bare proposal, the most distant pros- 
 pect, of sacrifice. His presence in any society 
 met for a charitable purpose would be fell like 
 the vicinity of an iceberg, freezin^r the atmos- 
 phere, and repressing the warm and flowing cur- 
 rent of benevolence. The eloquent think it a 
 triumph to have pleaded tiie cause of mercy be- 
 fore him unabashed ; and the benevolent are 
 satisfied if they can oidy bring away their sacred 
 fire undamped from his presence. He scowls at 
 every benev(j|ent 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 necessitated to make, 
 far greater sacrifices than at present, with con- 
 scious uneasiness, or resolved incredulity. His 
 life is an economy of petty avarice, constructed 
 on the principle of partmg with as little as pos- 
 sible, and getting as much, — a constant warfare 
 against benevolence. 
 
 But a person may be free from the charge of 
 parsimony, and yet open to the accusation of 
 worldliness. }Iis covetousness may not be so 
 determined as to distinguish him from the mul- 
 titude, 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 
 
70 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 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 un- 
 fruitful." He will listen to an ordinary exposi- 
 tion 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 i;«m7?/ with an avidity which seems in- 
 creased 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 pref- 
 erableness of competence to affluence, and it will 
 be found to be disturbing the settled order of his 
 sentiments. A representation of the snares of 
 wealth, is regarded by him as the empty decla- 
 mation 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 unsanctified 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 in- 
 ward 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 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSxNESS. 71 
 
 arranged, and spent, in strict accordance with 
 this cotires>ion. In liis vocabulary, wealth means 
 happiness — the chief good. And in his reading 
 of the Holy Scripture, the declaration of our 
 Lord is reversed, as if lie l:ad 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 ueahh are limited to 
 a few liundreds, 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 pe- 
 culiar 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 its s|)here — it requires too much thought 
 for him. And it is true, also, that the prosper- 
 ous 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 awak- 
 ening it at first from its dormant state, and turn- 
 ing every subsequent instance of gain into a meal 
 to gratify its voracious appetite. 
 
 But there is no sphere so humble and contract- 
 ed 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 Hatters himself that he has " retired from 
 the world," may still be carrying this abridge- 
 ment of the world's influence about with him in 
 
72 PREVALENCE OP COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 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 ap- 
 pear 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 be immersed in 
 the pursuit, will as certainly ** drown him in per- 
 dition," 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 undi- 
 vided manner in which he pursues it. Though 
 his worldliness may be quiet and equable in its 
 operation, yet, like an ever-flowing stream, it 
 gradually wears his whole soul into one channel, 
 which drains off his thoughts and affections from 
 higher ground, and carries them all in a steady 
 current in that single direction ; while his occa- 
 sional impressions of a religious nature only 
 ripple its surface for a moment, and vanish, 
 without in the least retarding its onward course. 
 But to specify all the forms of covetousness, 
 and to trace it in all its modifications, is impos- 
 sible. Capable 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 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. /O 
 
 this world. Recording the history of Mammon 
 — the Scripture personification of cupidity — he 
 describes him as 
 
 " the least erected spirit that fell 
 From heav^en : for even in heaven his looks and thoughts 
 Were always downward bent; admiring more 
 The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold, 
 Than aught divine or holy else, enjoyed 
 hi 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 i)lace 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 tlie great objects of the personal min- 
 istry of our Lord himself, appears to have been 
 to make us aware of the universality of this pas- 
 sion, and to save us from it. Sin having expelled 
 the love of God from the heart, he saw that the 
 love of the world had rushed in to fill up the va- 
 cuum ; that the desire of riches, as an abstract 
 of all otherworldly desires has become a uni- 
 versal passion, in which all other appetites 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. 
 
74 
 
 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 To a common observer, the confused pursuits 
 and complicated passions of mankind might have 
 presented an aspect of ever-shifting forms, as in- 
 capable of classification as the waves of the sea ; 
 but to his comprehensive view there appeared but 
 two great classes, in which all minor distinctions 
 were merged — the servants of God, and the ser- 
 vants of Mammon. To his unerring and om,- 
 uiscient glance, the whole world appeared to be 
 engrossed in a laborious experiment to effect a 
 compromise between these two claimants : but 
 against such an accommodation he enters his di- 
 vine protest; affirming, with the solemnity and 
 confidence of one who knew that though the ex- 
 periment 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 im- 
 practicabie. *' Ye cannot serve God and mam- 
 mon." To an ordinary 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 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 
 Jose his own soul ? or, what shall a man give in 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. /5 
 
 exchange for his soul ? " Proceeding to the 
 mansion of Dives, 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 Lazarus unheeded perishes at the gate. 
 Approaching the house of prosperity, he bids us 
 listen to the soliloquy of its wordly inhabitant, 
 " I will pull down my barns, and will build 
 greater " — a resolution which the world ap- 
 plauds — "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 pros- 
 pect of happiness 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 covet- 
 ousness there, mingling in the worship of God, 
 choking the word, and rendering it unfruitful. 
 Penetrating the heart, he unveiled its hateful 
 ])resence there, as the leaven of hypocrisy, and 
 the seed of theft. 
 
 And can we wonder at the energy and fre- 
 quency with which he denounced it, when we 
 remember how frecjuently it came into direct per- 
 sonal contact with liimself, defeating his tender- 
 est solicitudes, and robbing him of souls he 
 yearned to save ? It was covetousness which 
 rendered unfruitful so largo a proportion of that 
 heavenly seed which he had come to sow. It 
 was this which begrudged him the anointing for 
 his burial. It was this which robbed his king- 
 
76 
 
 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 dom of a subject, just at the moment when " the 
 young man " appeared to be about to fall into 
 his train, and wisich drew from him the affect- 
 ing 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 prin- 
 ciple in active, manifold, ruinous operation ; 
 "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 tem- 
 ple ? there he beheld nothing but a den of thieves. 
 Mammon was there enshrined ; the solemn pass- 
 over itself turned into gain ; the priests traffick- 
 ing 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 covet- 
 ousness." 
 
 But the last triumph of covetousness remained 
 yet to be achieved. To have sold the temple for 
 money would have been an act of daring impie- 
 ty ; to make it the place of merchandise was, 
 perhaps, still worse — it was adding sacrilege to 
 impiety. Only one deed more remained to be 
 perpetrated, and covetousness might then rest 
 satisfied. There was one greater than the tem- 
 ple. God so loved the world, that he had sent 
 his only begotten Son to redeem it — might not he 
 be sold 1 Covetousness, in the person of Judas, 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. "77 
 
 looked on liim, 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 incarna- 
 tion of benevolence, we may behold an intima- 
 tion of the quarter from which, in all succeed- 
 ing times, the greatest danger would arise to 
 the cause of Christ. The scene of the Savior's 
 betrayal for money was an affecting rehearsal, 
 a prophetic warning, of the treatment which 
 his gospel might expect to the end of the world. 
 Atul 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 Chris- 
 tian church. Having sold the Savior 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 
 " thouoht the gift of God might be purchased 
 with money," and which literally placed the 
 great blessinirsof the cross at sale. Gradually, 
 every thing became a source of gain. Not a 
 single innovation, or rite, was introduced, which 
 had not a relation to gain. Nations were laid 
 under tribute. Every shrine had its gifts; eve- 
 ry confession its cost ; every prayer its charge ; 
 every benediction its price. Dispensation fiom 
 duty and indulgence in sin, were both attain- 
 
78 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 able at the sum set down, Liberation from hell, 
 and admission into heaven, were both subject to 
 money. And, not content with following its 
 victims into the invisible state, Covetousness 
 even there created a third world, for the pur- 
 pose 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 ex- 
 tortion and rapine, till the wealth which the 
 church had drained from a thousand states, 
 ** turned to poison in its bosom," and mankind 
 arose to cast 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 indiscriminate ravages, it will vanquish 
 religion. Other forms of selfishness are partial 
 to 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 uni- 
 versal 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 hecatombs of human victims 
 for its sacrifices. Where war has slain its 
 thousands, gain has slaughtered its millions ; 
 for, while the former operates only with the 
 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 79 
 
 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 lead- 
 ing on its subjects to deeds of rapine and blood? 
 Its history is the history of slavery and op- 
 pression, 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 popu- 
 lous and gigantic empire can it boast ! the 
 mine with its unnatural drudgery; the manu- 
 factory, 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 sub- 
 jects. Titles and honors are among its re- 
 wards, and thrones at its disj^osal. Among its 
 counsellors are kings, and many of the great 
 and n)ighty 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 be- 
 come a mercenary in its pay ; and science, a 
 votary at its shrine, brings all its noblest dis- 
 coveries, as offerings to its feet. What part 
 of the globe's surface is not rapidly yielding up 
 its last stores of hidden treasure to the spirit 
 of gain? or retains more than a few miles 
 8 
 
80 PREVALExNCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 of unexplored and unvanquished territory 1 
 Scorning the childish dream of the philoso- 
 pher's stone, it aspires to turn the globe itself 
 into gold. 
 
SECTION IV 
 
 THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF COVETOUSNESS 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 inHuence of covetousnesis, a commercial na- 
 tion, like Britain, is more liable to its debasement 
 than any other. Were it not indii^^enous to the 
 human heart, here it would surely have been 
 born ; for here are assembled all the fermenting 
 elements, favorable to its spontaneous genera- 
 tion : or, were it to be driven from every other 
 land, liere it would find sanctuary in a thousand 
 places open to receive it. Not only does it exist 
 among us, it is honored, worshipped, deified. 
 Alas! it has — without a figure — its priests; its 
 aj)propriate temples — earthly "hells;" its cer- 
 emonial ; its ever-burning fires, fed with precious 
 things which ought to be offered as incense to 
 God ; and, for its sacrifices, immortal souls. 
 
 Every nation lias its idol : in some countries 
 that idol is pleasure ; in others, glory ; in others, 
 
82 THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 
 
 liberty; but the name of our idol is mammon. 
 The shrines of the others, indeed, are not neg- 
 lected, but it must be conceded that money is the 
 mightiest of all our idol-gods. 
 
 And not only does this fact distinguish us 
 from most other nations, it distinguishes our 
 present from our former selves — it is the brand- 
 mark of the present age. For, if it be true, that 
 each successive age has its representative — that 
 it beholds itself reflected in some leading school, 
 and impresses its image on the philosophy of the 
 day, where shall we look for the image of the 
 existing age but in our systems of political econ- 
 omy 7 "Men who w^ould formerly have devoted 
 their lives to a 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 re- 
 quirements by no plea but expediency, a consid- 
 eration of profit and loss. And even the science 
 of metaphysics is wavering, if it has not actual- 
 ly pronounced, in favor of a materialism which 
 would subject the great mysteries of humanity 
 to mathematical admeasurement, and chemical 
 analysis. 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 may startle the reader 
 who now reflects on the subject for the first time. 
 But let him be assured " as the first impression 
 
COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 83 
 
 which the foreigner receives on entering England 
 is that of the evidence of weahh, so the first 
 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 of property ; " and this senti- 
 ment, right in itself, has, by excess, infected 
 with an all-pervading taint, our politics, our sys- 
 tems of education, the distribution of honors, the 
 popular notions — nay, it has penetrated our lan- 
 guage, and even intruded into the sacred enclo- 
 sures of religion. This is a truth, obvious, not 
 merely to the foreigner to whom it is a compara- 
 tive novelty, the taint is acknowledged and de- 
 plored even by those who have become acclima- 
 ted 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 mo- 
 tives are lost sight of in the prevailing desire of 
 gain; so that he who evinces a disposition to 
 disinterested benevolence is either distrusted as 
 a hypocrite, or derided as a fool. The moralist 
 
 * IRs complaint must be thought professional. In this 
 section, therefore the writer has had recourse to authori- 
 ties which some may co\\s\t\ev oi greater weight. His quo- 
 tations are derived principally from Coleridge's Lay Ser- 
 mons, Bulwer's England and the English, and from the 
 two leading Reviews. 
 8* 
 
84 THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 
 
 complains that '* commerce has kindled in the 
 nation a universal emulation for wealth, and that 
 money receives all the honors which are the 
 proper right of knowledge and virtue." The 
 candidate for worldly advancement and honor 
 protests against the arrangement which makes 
 promotion a matter of purchase, thus disparaging 
 and discouraging all worth save that of wealth. 
 The poet laments that " the world is too much 
 with us ; " that *' all things are sold ; " that every 
 thing is made a marketable commodity, and 
 " labelled with its price." The student of men- 
 tal and moral philosophy laments that his favor- 
 ite " sciences are falling into decay, while the 
 physical are engrossing, every day, more respect 
 and attention ; " that the " worship of the beau- 
 tiful and good has given place to a calculation 
 of the profitable ; " that " every work which can 
 be made use of to immediate profit, every work 
 which falls in with the desire of acquiring wealth 
 suddenly, is sure of an appropriate circulation ; " 
 that we have been led to " estimate the w^orth 
 of all pursuits and attainments by their market- 
 able value." 
 
 To the same unhallowed spirit of gain is to 
 be traced that fierce " competition " of which 
 the laborer, the artisan, the dealer, the manu- 
 facturer, and even the members of all the liberal 
 professions, alike complain. That competition, 
 under certain limits, is necessary to the activity 
 and healthy condition of ihe social economy, is 
 not to be denied. But when it rises to a strug- 
 gle in which neither time nor strength is left 
 
COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. H5 
 
 for higher pursuits ; in which every new com- 
 petitor is looked on in the light of an enemy ; 
 in which every personal exertion, and practica- 
 ble retrenchment, in the mode of conducting 
 business, do but barely leave a subsistence, — 
 there must be something essentially wrong in 
 our ruling spirit, or social constitution. True, 
 the fact that the evil exists may palliate the con- 
 duct of the Christian, who, in mere self-defence, 
 and without his own seeking, finds himself com- 
 pelled by circumstances to engage in the rivalry 
 and turmoil. Such a man is an object, not of 
 blame, but of pity. But how small the number 
 of those who are not actually augmenting the 
 evil, either by a sumptuous style of living, which 
 absorbs the entire profits of business as fast as 
 they accrue, and which even anticipates them ; 
 or else by a morbid and exorbitant craving after 
 something new, by which the ingenuity and ap- 
 plication of men of business are kept constantly 
 taxed, and competition is almost converted into 
 hostility ! Our present concern, however, is not 
 with the cause, but with the fact. And on all 
 hands it is admitted, that the way in which busi- 
 ness is now conducted, involves all the risk, 
 uncertainly, and unnatural excitement of a game 
 of chance. 
 
 Nor is the strife of fashion less apparent than 
 the struggle of business. Each class of the 
 community, in succession, is pressing on that 
 which is immediately before it. Many of those 
 engaged in the rivalry are supporting themselves 
 by temporary expedients ; concealing their real 
 
Ob THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 
 
 poverty by occasional extravagance and display. 
 Take the following description of the fact, from 
 an eminent Christian moralist, whose position in 
 society enabled him to judge correctly, and on a 
 a large scale: — " Others, .... a numerous class 
 in our days, attach themselves to the pomps and 
 vanities of life. Magnificent houses, grand 
 equipages, numerous retinues, splendid enter- 
 tainrrients, high and fashionable connexions, ap- 
 pear to constitute, in their estimation, the su- 
 preme happiness of life. Persons to whose rank 
 and station these indulgencies most properly be- 
 long, often are the most indifferent to them. 
 Undue solicitude about them is more visible in 
 persons of inferior conditions and smaller for- 
 tunes ; in whom it is detected by the studious 
 contrivances of a misapplied ingenuity, to recon- 
 cile parade with economy, and to glitter at a 
 cheap rate. There is an evident effort and strug- 
 gle to excel in the particulars here in question ; 
 a manifest wish to rival superiors ; to outstrip 
 equals, and to dazzle inferiors." * The truth of 
 this picture, it is to be feared, has been daily 
 increasing, ever since it was drawn. 
 
 A spirit of extravagance and display naturally 
 seeks for resources in daring pecuniary specula- 
 tions. Industry is too slow and plodding for it. 
 Accordingly, this is the age of reckless adven- 
 ture. The spirit of the lottery is still upon us. 
 " Sink or swim," is the motto of numbers who 
 are ready to stake their fortune on a speculation; 
 
 * Wilberforce on Practical Chrisiianily. 
 
COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 87 
 
 and evil indeed must be that project, and peril- 
 ous in the extreme must be that scheme, which 
 tiiey would hesitate to adopt, if it held out the 
 remotest prospect of gain. 
 
 Tlie writer is quite aware, and free to admit, 
 that we are, from circumstances — and long 
 may be — an active, iudustrious, trading people. 
 Much of our distinctive greatness 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 benev- 
 olence has increased ahsolutcli/, yet relatively it 
 may be said to have declined, toliave lost ground 
 to the spirit of trade, and to be tainted and op- 
 pressed by its influence. How large a propor- 
 tion of what is cast into the Christian treasury 
 must l)e 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 is subtracted from the 
 vanities and indulgencics of life ; how very little 
 of it results from a settled plan of benevolence, 
 or from that self-denial, without which, on 
 Ciiristian principles, there is no benevolence. 
 Never, perhaps, was self-denial a rarer virtue 
 than in the present age. 
 
0» THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OP 
 
 Again : what is the testimony of those in 
 our most popular schools who educate our 
 youth? — that "there is a prevailing indifference 
 to that class of sciences, the knowledge of which 
 is not profitable to the possessor 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 complains, that 
 even respect for birth is yielding to the mer- 
 cenary claim of riches. Such is the all-trans- 
 forming 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 for 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 principal 
 amusements of the nation into so vast and com- 
 plicated a system of gambling, that, to master 
 it, demands all the studious application of a 
 profound science. Looking at the universal in- 
 fluence which wealth has obtained over every 
 institution, and every grade of the social system, 
 what more is wanting to induce the many to be- 
 lieve, as sober truth, the ironical definition of the 
 satirist, that " Worth means wealth — and wisdom, 
 the art of acquiring it 1 ' ' 
 
 " Whatever men are taught highly to respect, 
 gradually acquires the rank of a virtue." Well, 
 therefore, has it been said, by a master of philos- 
 ophy, that "the honors of a state, direct the 
 
COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. n\f 
 
 esteem of a people ; and that, according to the 
 esteem of a people, is the general direction of 
 mental energy and genius." The consequence 
 ofafhxingthe highest worldly rewards to wealth, 
 is, that to be ricli, is accounted a merit, and to 
 be poor an offence. Nor is this the worst : a 
 false standard of morality is thus created, by 
 which it is made of less consequence to be wise 
 and virtuous, than to be rich. 
 
 The appalling degree to which such a stand- 
 ard 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 some- 
 times be employed with an exclusive reference 
 to property, and quite irrespective of moral 
 worth. They are, however, idioms of the lan- 
 guage, and as such 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 contempt with 
 which they are accompanied, abundantly 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 jnuch," — 
 worth just so much as his money amounts to, 
 and no more. " Poor creature ! " is an ex- 
 clamation as frequently uttered to express con- 
 tempt as pity, and may indicate that the object 
 of it, unites in himself all kinds of wretchedness, 
 
90 THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 
 
 and many degrees of guilt. How constantly are 
 individuals 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 anything but respect. What is ordi- 
 narily understood by good society ? Certainly 
 the exclusion of nothing had 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 se/ec^, 
 who thinks 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, eacli 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 ? What- 
 ever attainments a man may be making 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 in the world who is in- 
 creasing his property. The term gain is not 
 applied to knowledge, virtue, or happiness : it 
 is reserved solely to mark pecuniary acquisi- 
 tions ; it is synonymous with gold, as if nothing 
 but gold were gain, and everything else were 
 comparative 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 
 
COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 91 
 
 more nearly approached the creative power 
 than any other liuman being, he is said to be 
 making muncy ; — and having said that, eulogy 
 is exhausted, he is considered to be crowned 
 with praise. 
 
 Could we ascertain the entire amount of na- 
 tional excitement and emotion experienced in 
 the course of a year, and could we then distrib- 
 ute 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, di- 
 rect and indirect, would not only exceed that of 
 either of the others, separately considered, but 
 would go near to surpass them altogether ? And 
 wiicn it is remembered th^t this cause is always 
 in operation ; that it has acquired a character of 
 permanence; that our life is spent under the 
 reign of weahh ; how can it be otherwise than 
 that we should become its subjects, if not even 
 its slaves .'* When, year after year, the assem- 
 bled 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 virtually converting the throne of 
 legislation into a tabic of exchange, it can only 
 follow, that the same standard will be generally 
 adopted in private life to try individual questions. 
 If the body j)olitic be so constituted that the Ex- 
 change is its heart, then every particular pulse 
 in the community will aim to find its health, by 
 beating in unison with it. 
 9 
 
92 THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 
 
 Thus the spirit of gain, which in most coun- 
 tries is only one power amongst many, may here 
 be said to be tutelary and supreme j and the 
 love of money, from being an occasional pursuit, 
 becomes, in innumerable instances, a rooted and 
 prevailing passion. Nor is it possible for piety 
 itself to escape the infection. To live here, is 
 to live in the Temple of Mammon ; and it is im- 
 possible to see the God worshipped daily, to be- 
 hold 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 1 *' My brethren," said the 
 apostle 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 him that weareth 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 depre- 
 cating that homage to wealth which implies that 
 it is honorable 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 offering pecu- 
 liar insult to the throne of God. But did not the 
 apostle draw this picture prophetically of the 
 
COVETOUSNRSS IN BRITAIN. 
 
 93 
 
 present day ? Could he now witness, says Scott, 
 in his comment on this scripture, what takes 
 place generally in this matter, and give his opin- 
 ion of it, would he not repeat the censure that 
 we are influenced by corrupt reasonings and 
 erroneous calculations? 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 excel- 
 lence, 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 com- 
 plain 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 reli- 
 ance placed on the efficacy of money for the ac- 
 complishment of religious objects? too much 
 deference paid to wealth in the selection of chair- 
 men, ofhcers, and members? too evident a dis- 
 position to estimate tlie prosperity of an institu- 
 
94 THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 
 
 tion 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 1 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 meetings 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 commence- 
 ment of a meeting ? and, as the pecuniary ex- 
 periment proceeds, is not that anxiety increased 
 as to how the speculation will succeed 1 Are 
 there not occasions when our platforms exhibit 
 a scene too much resembling a bidding for no- 
 tice ? — 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, too, that among those 
 whose names are proclaimed as donors on such 
 occasions, are some whom it is a privilege to 
 know ; men who give privately as publicly ; 
 
COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 95 
 
 whose ordinary charity is sinn:le-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 humbly submitted, are 
 liable to expose him ; or to the avidity with 
 which the captious and the covetous will seize 
 and turn them to their own unhallowed account; 
 or to the force of the plea that the best things are 
 open to abuse, and that it is easy to raise ob- 
 jections against the purest methods and means 
 of benevolence. Still, however, he feels himself 
 justified in respectfully submitting to the Chris- 
 tian consideration of those most deeply concerned 
 in the subject, whether our anxiety for the attain- 
 ment of the glorious cnd^ has left us sufficiently 
 jealous for the purity of the means ; whether 
 some of these means do not call for reconsidera- 
 tion ; whether they do not too directly appeal to 
 motives which the gospel discountenances and 
 disowns ; and whether they rely sufficiently on 
 the power of Christian appeal to Christian prin- 
 ciple ; — whether, in fine, the mechanical spirit 
 of the age is not beginning to influence the sup- 
 ply of our funds, to the injury of the spirit of 
 genuine benevolence. 
 
 But does not the very fact, that novel and 
 questionable means are sometimes resorted to 
 for the purpose of replenishing the funds of be- 
 nevolence, imply that ordinary and approved 
 methods had failed to answer that eml ? in other 
 words, that the charge of covetousness lies against 
 9* 
 
96 COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 
 
 the prof essors of the gospel generally ? But, be- 
 sides this presumptive evidence of the charge, it 
 is easy to substantiate it by two direct proofs — 
 the first, derived from their conduct in the world ; 
 and the second, from their conduct in the church. 
 Who has not heard of the morality of trade as 
 differing materially from the standard morality 
 of the gospel 1 Yet, how small the number of 
 Christian professors who perceive the guilt of 
 this moral solecism ! How few who do not easily 
 fall in, for the sake of pecuniary advantage, with 
 the most approved worldly methods of increasing 
 their profits ! Blinded by the love of gain, and 
 justifying themselves on the ground of custom 
 and self-defence, the sense of right is overruled, 
 and conscience itself becomes a victim on the 
 altar of mammon. The other proof of the covet- 
 ousness of the church may be deduced from the 
 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, with slow and laborious steps, we are 
 only as yet advancing towards it. If the latter 
 — does not the increase of every present year 
 cast a reproach back on the comparative parsi- 
 mony of every past year ? Will not the aug- 
 mented liberality of next year reproach the nig- 
 gardliness of this 1 
 
SECTION V. 
 
 THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 Easv as it is, however, to demonstrate the 
 prevalence of covelousness, — to convict the in- 
 dividual conscience of the evil, to bring home 
 the charge personally so as to produce self-accu- 
 sation, is one of the last efturls in which we hope 
 for success. Men think not of covetousness, 
 and of themselves, at the same time. He who 
 can 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 a number of excep- 
 tions, which render the standard totally inappli- 
 cable. It was remarked by St. Francis de Sales, 
 who was greatly resorted to in his day as a con- 
 fessor, 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 estab- 
 
98 
 
 THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 lished method of justifying itself; but of covet- 
 ousness 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 multi- 
 tude never blush." We might have supposed 
 that its prevalence would have facilitated its de- 
 tection 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 coun- 
 tenance. 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 in- 
 dulge in it up to a certain point of the scale, it is 
 only from that point we allow covetousness be- 
 gins ; 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, Elwes 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, 
 seems to discharge us from all suspicion, and to 
 grant us a fresh dispensation to indulge in the 
 quiet of ordinary covetousness. Yet, often is it 
 to be feared, that very resentment is the mere 
 offspring 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 DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 99 
 
 the body, by secreting more than his share of 
 booty. 
 
 But tliat which constitutes the strength of cov- 
 etousness, is, its power to assume the appear- 
 ance of virtue : like ancient armor it is at once 
 protection and disguise. '* No advocate will 
 venture to defend it under its own proper charac- 
 ter. Avarice takes the license used by other 
 felons, and, by the adoption of an alias^ escapes 
 the reprobation attached toils own name."* 
 In the vocabulary of covetousness, worldliness 
 means industry ; though it is obvious to every 
 Christian observer, that the pretended industry 
 of many a religious professor is the destruction 
 of his piety, and will eventually form the ground 
 of his condemnation. Idleness is his pretended 
 aversion. His time, his strength, his solicitudes, 
 are all drained off in the service of Mammon; 
 while nothing is left for religion but a faint sigh, 
 a hurried heartless prayer, and an occasional 
 struggle so impotent as to invite defeat. 
 
 " But Providence," he pleads, " has actually 
 filled his hands with business without his seek- 
 ing ; and would it not be ungrateful to lose it by 
 neglect r " But have you never heard, we might 
 reply, that God sometimes tries his people, to see 
 whether they will keep his commandments or 
 not 1 and may he not be now proving how far 
 the verdure of your piety can resist the ex- 
 haling and scorching sun of prosperity .'' Besides, 
 is it supposable that God intended you to inter- 
 
 * Mrs, More. 
 
100 THE DISGUISES OF CQVETOUSNESS. 
 
 pret his grant of worldly prosperity into a dis- 
 charge from liis service, and a commission in the 
 service of Mammon ? And, more than all, sig- 
 nificantly as you may think his providence in- 
 vites you to labor for the bread that perisheth, 
 does not his gospel, his Son, your Lord and Re- 
 deemer, call you a thousand-fold more emphatic- 
 ally to labor for the meat which endurctli unto 
 eternal life ? You maij be misinterpreting the 
 voice of his providence ; the voice of his gospel 
 you cannot misunderstand ; it is distinct, imper- 
 ative and incessant ; urging you daily to " seek 
 first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness." 
 
 Another individual is a slave to parsimony; 
 but he is quite insensible to it, for the tempta- 
 tion solicits him under the disguise of frugality. 
 Waste is his abhorrence ; and he knows no ref- 
 uge from it but in the opposite extreme. Every 
 new instance of impoverished prodigality is re- 
 ceived by him as a warning from Providence to 
 be careful. His creed is made up of all the ac- 
 credited 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 with an antidote 
 against all the contagious attacks of charity. 
 And thus, though he lives in a world supported 
 by bounty, and hopes, perhaps, to be saved at 
 last by i^race, he gives only wlien shame will not 
 allow him to refuse, and grudges the little which 
 he gives. 
 
 The aim of another is evidently the accumu- 
 lation of wealth ; but the explanation which he 
 
DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 101 
 
 gives to himself of liis conduct, is, that he de- 
 sires simply to i)rovide for the future. Want is 
 his dread. And though, in his aim to avoid 
 this evil, he may not distinctly propose to him- 
 self to hecome rich, yet what else can result 
 from his constantly amassing 1 His interpreta- 
 tion of competence, if candidly avowed, is offiu- 
 rnce ; a dispensation from labor to himself and 
 family to the end of time, a discharge from fu- 
 ture dependence on Providence, a perpetuity of 
 ease and sloth. Till he has succeeded in reach- 
 ing that enviable state, his mind is full of forebod- 
 ing; he can take no thought eircpt for the mor- 
 row. As if Providence had vacated its throne, 
 and deserted its charge, he takes on himself all 
 the cares and burdens belonging to his state ; 
 and, laden with these, he is totally disqualified 
 for every hf)ly 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 labor- 
 ing to acquire a competence up to the moment 
 when a competence for him means only the ex- 
 penses of his funeral. 
 
 In the instance of a person who has attained 
 to competence, covetousness often seeks to es- 
 cape detection under the name of contentment. 
 lie fancies that he is completely vindicated from 
 the charge of cupidity, by saying, " I am quite 
 content with what I have." But so also that 
 minion of wealth whom our Lord introduces with 
 the solemn warning, " Take heed, and beware 
 
102 THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 of covetousness." His contentment is only cov- 
 etousness reposing selt-coniplacently from its 
 toils, resting on its vvell-lilled bags, and saying, 
 ** Soul, take thine ease." Let an agent of char- 
 ity approach him with outstretched and imploring 
 hand, and, as if touched by llhuriel's spear, he 
 will forthwith start into his proper character, 
 and demonstrate that his contentment depends 
 on his keeping his property entire ; at least, that 
 he is not content to give. 
 
 And another not only most confidently acquits 
 himself of all sus))icion of selfishness, but even 
 appropriates the credit of being benevolent, on 
 the ground of his natural scnsibiliti/. A specta- 
 cle of sufl'ering harrows up his soul ; and there- 
 fore " he passes by on the other side." An ob- 
 ject of destitution afflicts his too delicate sympa- 
 thies ; and, therefore, he closes his door against 
 it, saying, " Depart in peace, be thou warmed 
 and tilled ; " and leaves it in its destitution to 
 perish. And thus, by belonging to the school of 
 Rousseau or of Sterne, he gives himself the credit 
 of belonging to the school of Christ ; by paying 
 the tax of a sigh to wretchedness, he escapes the 
 levy of a heavier tribute, and even purchases a 
 character for the tenderest susceptibility. But 
 sensibility is not benevolence ; by wasting itself 
 on trifles, it may render us slaves to selfishness, 
 and unfit us for every thing but scZ/'-commisera- 
 tion. 
 
 Covetousness will sometimes indulge itself 
 under the pretence of ])reparing to retire from the 
 cares and turmoil of active life. The propriety 
 
THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 103 
 
 of an early retirement from business, must de- 
 pend, of course, on circumstances. But how 
 often does the covetousness which wears this 
 mask, retain her slave in her service, even to 
 hoary Iiairs, putting liim off from time to time 
 with delusive promises of approaching emanci- 
 pation. Or else, lie retires to spend, in slothful 
 and selfish privacy, that which he had accumu- 
 lated by years of parsimony. Or else, by ming- 
 ling 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 rendered him an extensive blessing, he con- 
 sults only his own gratification, establishes him- 
 self at a distance, it may be, from "the place of 
 the altar," and, in a regular round of habitual 
 indulgence, lives and dies an unfaithful steward, 
 a sober sensualist, a- curse rather than a blessing. 
 Sometimes covetousness is heard enlarging 
 complacently on the necessity, and even piety, 
 of providing for children. And here, be it re- 
 membered, we are not considering what parcwfa/ 
 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 passages of 
 Scripture, to defend the course he is pursuing, 
 shows how acceptable to his numerous class an ar- 
 gument would be in favorof hoarding, since these 
 few perverted sentences which only stem to sanc- 
 10 
 
104 
 
 THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 tion 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 maintenance of widows, 
 distinguishes between such as the church should 
 relieve, and such as should be supported by their 
 own relatives ; and concerning the latter he 
 makes the statement in question. Whence it fol- 
 lows, first, that the provision contemplated by the 
 apostle is not laying up beforehand for future 
 contingencies, but a present supply of present ne- 
 cessities, a simple maintenance of needy relatives 
 from day to day. And, secondly, (hat, instead 
 of countenancing parents in the accumulation 
 of great fortunes for their children, he is speak- 
 ing of the maintenance which children, if able, 
 should afford to their aged and destitute parents. 
 With the siihiect of providing for fa?nilies, there- 
 fore, the text in question has nothing to do. 
 Rightly interpreted, we see that it enjoins, not 
 accumulating but giving. How humiliating is 
 the only explanation which can be given of the 
 general perversion of this scripture, and of the 
 pertinacity with which that perversion is retained. 
 Let the Christian parent compare the merits 
 of a useful education, and a qualification for 
 business or a profession, with the merits of that 
 state of so-called independence in which he is 
 toiling to place his family ; and let him call in 
 the aid of Scripture and of prayer, that he may 
 
THE DISGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 105 
 
 conduct the comparison aright, and we will not 
 fear for the result. Let him look around his 
 neighborhood, and institute a comparison, if he 
 can, between the apparent character and happi- 
 ness of the six nearest individuals who have been 
 left dependent, under God, on their own exer- 
 tions for respectability and support, and the six 
 who have been left independent of personal ex- 
 ertion, 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 rep- 
 resentation of the danger of riches ringing in his 
 ears, goes on scheming and laboring, to leave his 
 children rich in the element of destruction ; toiling 
 to place them in a condition in which, he admits, 
 it is all 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 king- 
 doms of the world and the glory of them to the 
 Saviour's feet 1 Let him remember, not only 
 that he is to leave his children behind hini in a 
 world 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 re- 
 membered only in relation to the purposes to 
 which it has been applied. 
 
SECTION VI. 
 
 TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 But, the more insidious and seductive the 
 forms of covetousness, and the greater its preva- 
 lence, 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 in- 
 dications. 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 lend themselves to 
 ascertain whether or not the plague-spot be upon 
 them. Without this, they would close their eyes 
 to the presence of ninety-nine symptoms, and ac- 
 cept the absence of the hundredth as a demon- 
 stration of their perfect freedom from the taint ; 
 while, on the other hand, a tender and faithful 
 
TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 107 
 
 conscience would overlook the absence of the 
 ninety-nine, and take alarm at the 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 exhibit all the signs of any disease. 
 And moral diseases, like physical, are modified 
 by temperament and circumstances ; so that if 
 some of the indications of the malady in question 
 are wanting, a little impartial examination may 
 disclose others sufficiently determinate to awaken 
 alarm, and produce humiliation. 
 
 "What are those signs, then," we will sup- 
 pose the reader to inquire, " what are some of 
 those signs whose presence would indicate the 
 existence of covetousncss in nuj character ? " 
 And here, reader, we would remind you that the 
 inquiry is to be conducted under the eye of God ; 
 that a consultation of physicians 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 fictitious 
 names : are you now, for the first time subject- 
 ing your heart to a thorough inspection on the 
 subject? but ought not this simple fact that you 
 are doing it now for the first time, to excite your 
 suspicions, and prepare you to find, that, while 
 10* 
 
108 TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 you have been sleeping, the enemy has been 
 sowing tares in your lieart ? Taking it for 
 granted that you are hving in the habit of com- 
 munion with God, you no doubt advert, from 
 time to time in the language of lamentation and 
 confession, to various sins which have never ap- 
 peared 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 1 — When last did you deprecate it 1 
 when last were you earnest in prayer for a spirit 
 of Christian liberality 1 
 
 Your station, property, or mental character 
 invest you, it may be, with a measure of author- 
 ity and influence ; do you ever employ that pow- 
 er to oppress and to overrule right ? Are you, 
 what the poor denominate, hard-hearted? capa- 
 ble of driving a hard bargain? rigid and inex- 
 orable as an Egyptian task-master in your mode 
 of conducting business 1 enforcing every legal 
 claim, pressing every demand, and exacting ev- 
 ery obligation to the extremest point of justice? 
 Are you, what is commonly denominated mean 1 
 cutting down the enjoyments of those dependent 
 on you to the very quick 1 never rewarding ex- 
 ertion a tittle beyond what is " in 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 ques- 
 tion ; for only remember, first, the nmltiplied 
 laws which already exist against fraud ; and the 
 
TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 109 
 
 insufficiency of this vast and complicated appara 
 tus, as implied in the continued labors of the leg 
 islature to prevent, and of the executive to pun- 
 ish, fraud — all intimating the dreadful prevalence 
 of the evil. Recollect, also, that no multiplica- 
 tion of laws can supply the place of principle 
 and integrity; artifice would still find a way o£ 
 escape through the finest network of human legis- 
 lation. Then, again, bear in mind the grievous 
 but acknowledged fact, that two kinds of moral- 
 ly obtain in life — the morality of private life, all 
 sensitiveness, delicacy and honor ; and the moral- 
 ity of business, all secrecy in its own movements 
 — all vigilance respecting the movements of 
 others — all suspicion of their representations — 
 all protestation and confidence of the superior 
 excellence 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 dis- 
 lionesty ; — but do you never avail yourself in 
 business of the ignorance and weakness of oth- 
 ers ? Do you ever take advantage of that class 
 of the secrets of your business, which, though 
 deemed defensible by the world, are, to say the 
 least, of a doubtful character ? Are you satisfied 
 with escaping, and, perhaps, barely escaping the 
 penalty of the law ? and with pleading that you 
 are only doing as others do ? and all this for 
 the sake of a little paltry gain ? 
 
 Providence, perhaps, has assigned you a sta- 
 
110 TESTS OF C0VET0USNES3. 
 
 tion in society, which, though it leaves many 
 below you, places numbers above you. Are you 
 content with the allotment ? If you regard your 
 own situation with dissatisfaction, and the supe- 
 rior 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 rep- 
 etition of which the world seeks to fortify itself 
 against the claims of benevolence, and to justify 
 itself in its all-grasping endeavors ; — do you find 
 these maxims occasionally falling, in self-justifi- 
 cation, from your own lips ? He whom you 
 acknowledge as your Lord and Master has de- 
 clared that "it is more blessed to give than to 
 receive," — a saying which falls like a paradox, 
 an enigma, an impossibility, on the infidel covet- 
 ousness 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 characteristic of the 
 pagan and ungodly world, to care for the pro- 
 vision 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? 
 
TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. Ill 
 
 If tlieir conduct proves that they have no God, 
 does yours prove that you have one 1 If the 
 world could lay open your breast, would it not 
 be justified in concluding that though you have 
 a God, you cannot trust him 1 that, in temporal 
 things, you are obliged, after all, to do as they 
 do — rely exclusively upon yourself? And when 
 the hour returns lor your appearance in the 
 closet, in the sanctuary, at the i)ost 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 1 
 At the altars of mammon 1 amidst the engrossing 
 cares and services of the world? 
 
 Does not the dread of a petty loss, or the 
 pro.^pect of a petty gain, fill you with emotions 
 beyond what the magnitude of either would 
 warrant 1 And were a committee of the wisest 
 and the best of men to sit in friendly judgment 
 on your worldly afl'airs, would they not be likely 
 to pronounce that your mind might be safely dis- 
 charged of all that solicitude which now disturbs 
 it, and be left entirely free for the service of 
 God? You confers that God may justly com- 
 plani of you as slothful and unfaithful in his ser- 
 vice ; — would INlammon 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 ? Arc you spending life in pro- 
 viding the means of living, and are you thus 
 living to no end ? Are you preparing to depart ? 
 
112 TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 or, would death find you saying, *' Soul, take 
 thine ease ? " counting your gains ? loth to quit 
 your possessions? and " setting your affections 
 on things on the earth ? " Have you engaged 
 in any worldly avocation or object, not from 
 necessity, but choice ? and merely to augment 
 your means of ostentation and indulgence? 
 And are you to be found giving early notice to 
 the world of any little addition made to your 
 property, by an instant addition to your establish- 
 ment or expenditure ? 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 like- 
 ly to adopt ? 
 
 Are you, at times, tempted to vow that you 
 will never give any thing more in charity? In- 
 stances are by no means of rare occurrence of 
 imposture practised on the generous, and of 
 kindness requited with ingratitude, and of be- 
 nevolent funds unfaithfully administered ; and 
 some of these painful examples may have come 
 under your own observation :^do you detect 
 yourself, at such times, storing them up as argu- 
 ments against future charity ? conveying them, 
 as weapons of defence, into the armory of covet- 
 ousness, to be brought out, and employed at the 
 next assault upon your purse ? When you are 
 called to listen to a discourse on ilie perils at- 
 tending the possession of wealth, does the seed 
 fall into congenial soil ? or, is it neessary, as 
 often as the subject is introduced, that the speak- 
 er should reproduce his " strong arguments," in 
 
TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 113 
 
 order to reproduce full conviction i.i your mind? 
 Which, tiiiiik you, would make a greater demand 
 on your patience — an argument to prove that 
 you ought to give more to the cause of benev- 
 olence? or, an excuse and justification for giving 
 less ? 
 
 You may sometimes find yourself passing a 
 silent verdict of praise or blame on the pecunia- 
 ry conduct of others : now, when you see an in- 
 dividual more than ordinarUy careful of his mon- 
 ey, do you regard him with a feeling of compla- 
 cency ? 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 com- 
 prehend ? 
 
 It is hardly j)ossible that the tempeiature of 
 benevolence should remain quite stationary at 
 the same point, in any mind, for years togeth- 
 er : now, on instituting a comparison between 
 the past and the present, do you find that you 
 have sudered no decrease of genuine sensibili- 
 ty ? that you are quite as accessible to the ap- 
 peals of beneficence now, as you were ten or 
 twenty years ago, and ^conscious of as much 
 pleasure in yielding to thorn ? It is highly im- 
 probable 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 propor- 
 tionally increased ? or, if the change has been 
 
114 TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 adverse, have your gifts been decreased only in 
 proportion ? And, among your regrets at the 
 change, are you conscious of a pang at the ne- 
 cessity of that decrease ? 
 
 It is to the honor of the present day, that the 
 calls of benevolence multiply fast ; — which, is 
 there reason to believe, you resent more, their 
 rapid multiplication, or your inability to meet 
 them all? But, in order to meet them, have 
 you never thought of retrenching any superflu- 
 ity'? of reducing your expenditure? or, do you 
 only practise that precarious and cheap benev- 
 olence, which waits for the crumbs that fall 
 from your table ? 
 
 You may be scrupulously abstaining from 
 certain worldly amusements ; but, having mark- 
 ed off a given space in which you do not allow 
 yourself to range, how are you conducting your- 
 self in that portion in which you do move ? 
 Are you not vying with the world in self-gratifi- 
 cation ? thinking of little besides the mukiplica- 
 tion of your comforts? living under the domin- 
 ion of the inferior appetites ? as far removed 
 from the salutary restraints and self-denial of 
 the gospel, as from the exploded austerities of 
 the monastic life ? In mechanics, the strength 
 of a moving power is estimated by the amount 
 of resistance which it overcomes; now, what is 
 the strength of your benevolence when tried by 
 a similar test ? what does it overcome ? 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? 
 
TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 115 
 
 Of how many professing Christians may it 
 not be appropriately asked, not only *' How are 
 you living, but where 1 " You have retired from 
 business, it may be ; but, in taking that step, 
 whose will did you consult? 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 look out for a 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 
 counsel from the word of God? Are you acting 
 on the Christian motto, " No man liveth to him- 
 self? " and are you employing your various 
 talents as if they came to you, bearing this in- 
 scription, from the hand that lends them, " Oc- 
 cupy till I come ? " 
 
 You may hear occasionally of a munificent 
 donation made unexpectedly by Christian grati- 
 tude to the cause of God ; — what is your first 
 emotion at the report ? — admiration of the act ? 
 and gratitude to the grace which produced it? 
 — or a feeling that the donor has unnecessarily 
 exceeded the rw/es of ordinary benevolence ? and 
 a disposition to impute motives of vanity and 
 ostentation? If a benevolent mind had con- 
 ceived some new project of mercy requiring pe- 
 cuniary support, would your presence be a con- 
 genial atiriosphere for the bud to unfold in? or, 
 would the first emotion expressed in your coun- 
 11 
 
116 TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 tenance be a chilling doubt, or a blighting, 
 withering frown 1 True benevolence is not 
 only voluntary, as opposed to reluctant — it is 
 often spontaneous, as opposed to solicited ; — but 
 does yours always expect to be waited on ? has 
 it always to be reminded ? does it need to be 
 urged ? does it never anticipate the appeal, and 
 run to meet its object 1 And when you do give, 
 is it your object to part with as little as you can 
 without shame, as if you were driving a hard 
 bargain with one who sought to overreach you 1 
 and is that little parted with reluctantly, with a 
 half-closed hand, as if you were discharging a 
 doubtful debt on compulsion 1 Is it given with 
 the air of a capitulation, or bribe to importunity, 
 leaving the applicant who receives it ill at ease ? 
 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 1 and wondering how men can deny them- 
 selves the 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 the purpose of sell- 
 indulgence, soon forgetting them, and repeating 
 them again, " thinking nothing of them." 
 
 But to lay open the sin in all its disguises is 
 impossible. These are mere hints for its detec- 
 tion. Owing to their deficiency, however, or to 
 your own negligence in applying them, the evil 
 sought for may still be undiscovered. But let 
 
TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 117 
 
 nothing flatter you into the persuasion tliat you 
 are exempt from it. If any believer of the Jew- 
 ish church Could have defied its remotest ap- 
 proaches, 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 brouji^ht with him into the world 
 the elements of magnanimity and generosity of 
 soul ; yet we hear him cry, in the full conscious- 
 ness of danger, *' Incline my heart unto thy tes- 
 timonies, and not unto 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 perdition," 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. " O man of God," said 
 he, "flee these things." As if, by a special 
 appointment of Heaven, the monitory strain ad- 
 dressed to a mail of God — to such a man of God 
 — and echoing 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 
 
118 TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 constituted his fitness to wage war with selfish- 
 ness, 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," 
 
SECTION VII 
 
 THE GCJILT AND EVILS OP COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 Of 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 wickedness originates in cupid- 
 ity. 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 vision 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 cov- 
 etousness. 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 has often associated, and the 
 depraved characters in whom it has most flour- 
 11* 
 
120 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 ished ; 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 covetousness, then the Scriptures 
 have omitted nothing which could save us from 
 its guilty contamination. 
 
 "Thou shalt not covet." Such is the lan- 
 guage of that command which not only concludes, 
 but at the same tim6 completes, and guards, and 
 encompasses the moral law. If love be the ful- 
 filling of the law, it follows that the whole dec- 
 alogue is to be regarded as law against selfish- 
 ness ; so that every selfish aiid every covetous act 
 is, in effect, an infraction of the whole late. It 
 is to love ourselves at the expense both of God 
 and our neighbor. 
 
 Covetousness appears to have been the princi- 
 pal element in the first transgression. For did 
 not the sin consist, chiefly, in an inordinate de- 
 sire 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 cu- 
 pidity 1 It is observable that the terms in which 
 the primary sin is described, bear a close resem- 
 blance 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 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 121 
 
 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-emi- 
 nence, it has maintained its fatal ascendency 
 under each succeeding dispensation of religion. 
 
 Covetousness in the person of Lot, appears to 
 have been the great sin of the patriarchal dis- 
 pensation. The hope of increasing his wealth 
 allured him first to pitch his tent near Sodom, 
 and at length prevailed on him to enter the city, 
 and to breathe its pestilential atmosphere ; in con- 
 sequence of which he became subsequently in- 
 volved in acts so grossly sinful, that all the im- 
 perfections of the other patriarchs combined to 
 gether, 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 
 on 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 aspervad- 
 
122 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 ing 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 ob- 
 jects 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 cov- 
 etousness has been seen actuating and debasing 
 the character of 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 traffic 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 the national 
 character but rapacity, arrogance, and a proud 
 impiety which braved the very throne 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 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 123 
 
 hand hatli found as a nest the riches of the peo- 
 ple ; and as one gathereth eggs that are left, have 
 J gathered all the eaith." 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 oppres- 
 sion, 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 in- 
 justice. " Thoushalt take no gift," said Moses, 
 *' for the gift blindeth the wise, and perverteth the 
 wordsofthe righteous." Accordingly, it is record- 
 ed of the sons of Samuel, that " they walked not 
 in his ways, but turned aside after lucre, and took 
 bribes, and perverted judgment." 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 quar- 
 ter." 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 hire-' 
 lings ; " The heads of Zion judge for reward, 
 and the prophets thereof divine lor money : yet 
 will they lean upon the Lord, and say. Is not the 
 Lord among us? 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 
 
124 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 weights and measures," — thus generating fraud> 
 falsehood, and injustice : while in both it leads 
 loan 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 ? and the Sabbath, 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 de- 
 scribes a Laban evading his encraorements with 
 Jacob, "changing his wages ten times," and ex- 
 acting from him years of laborious servitude ; 
 and it denounces those who, though their fields 
 had been reaped, " kept back the hire of the la- 
 borer by fraud." And in illustration of the lat- 
 ter, it exhibits an unscrupulous Gehazi, plausi- 
 bly 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 showing 
 all good fidelity." Thus have alJ classes, in 
 various degrees, lived under the dominion of av- 
 arice. 
 
 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, violence, and murder, have been 
 among its familiar deeds. " Wo to them that 
 
OF COVETOU8NESS. 126 
 
 devise iniquity, and work evil upon their beds! 
 when the morning is light they practise it, be- 
 cause it is in the power of their hands. And 
 they covet fields, and take them by violence ; 
 and houses, and lake them away : so they op- 
 press 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 promised reward, it devised another course, 
 — it " tauglit Balak to cast a stumbling-block 
 before the children of Israel, to eat things sac- 
 rificed to idols, and to commit fornication." The 
 dreadful device succeeded, the displeasure of 
 God was excited against the people, so that 
 " there fell in one day three and twenty thou- 
 sand." Such was " the way of Balaam, the son 
 of Bosor, who loved the wages of unrighteous- 
 ness." And so ingenious, persevering, and 
 fatally successful, was " Balaam for reward." 
 Covetousness instigated Judas to betray the Son 
 of God, the Savior of the world, " for thirty 
 pieces of silver." It induced Ananias and Sap- 
 
 phira to " tempt the Holy Ghost to lie, 
 
 not unto men, but unto God." In the base ex- 
 pectation of turning " the gift of God " to a lu- 
 crative 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 damnable heresies," and " with 
 
126 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 feigned words " — words studied to render the 
 heresy palatable and marketable — it has " made 
 merchandise " of men. It converted the Jewish 
 temple into "a den of thieves; " and among the 
 articles of meichandise in the mystical Babylon 
 were seen ** the souls of men." 
 
 The Scriptural classification of this sin is il- 
 lustrative of its vile and aggravated nature; 
 for it stands associated ivith all the principal 
 sins. 
 
 In that fearful catalogue of the vices of the 
 heathen world furnished by the apostle Paul, in 
 the first chapter of his Epistle to the Romans, 
 covetousness stands forth conspicuous. 
 
 When the apostle Peter is describing the char- 
 acter of those false teachers who would arise in 
 the church, — and describing it with a vievv to 
 its being recognised as soon as seen, and hated 
 as soon as recognised, — he names covetousness 
 as one of their leading features. " 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 pernicious ways; by reason of 
 whom the way of truth shall be evil spoken of. 
 And through covetousness shall they, with feign- 
 ed 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, 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 127 
 
 boasters, prourl, blasphemers, disobedient to pa- 
 rents, untlianUful, nnlioly, wiiliout natural aflTec- 
 tion, truce-breakers, false accusers, incontinent, 
 fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, 
 heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure more 
 than lovers of G(jd." 
 
 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 is idcntijicd laith idolatry: — " Fornica- 
 tion and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it 
 not be once named among you, as becomeih 
 saints; .... for this ye know, that no whore- 
 monger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, 
 who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the 
 kingdom of Christ and of God." " JNIortify 
 therefore your members which are upon the 
 earth ; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate af- 
 fection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, 
 which is idolatry : for which things' sake the 
 wrath of God cometh on the children of disobe- 
 dience." In addition to which, the apostle James 
 evidently idcntijies it with adultery. " Ye covet, 
 and have not ; .... ye ask, and receive not, be- 
 cause ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it up- 
 on 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 
 
 threef(jld law of Christian duty, personal, social, 
 
 and divine, but it stands connected with each of 
 
 the opposite series of vices. *f For from within, 
 
 12 
 
128 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, 
 adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covet- 
 ousness." ** I have written unto you, not to 
 keep company, if any man that is called a brother 
 be 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 king- 
 dom of God? Be not deceived: neither forni- 
 cators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effemi- 
 nate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, 
 nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor 
 revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the king- 
 dom of God." " Having eyes full of adultery, 
 and that cannot cease from sin ; beguiling un- 
 stable 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 ele- 
 ment 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 character of men whose enormous 
 impiety the apostle appears to have felt it a labor 
 to describe. In the third, we behold covetous- 
 ness lending an additional shade of horror to the 
 perilous times of the apostacy — times so fearful, 
 in the estimation of the apostle, that we may 
 rest assured he would have admitted into his de- 
 scription of them none but evils of first-rate mag- 
 nitude — and yet covetousness is not only there, 
 it is among the first evils which he specifies. 
 His classification implies, that of all the sins 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 129 
 
 which will then prevail, selfishness will be the 
 prolific root, and covetoiisness the first fruit. 
 So that when the whole history of covetousness 
 shall be read forth from the book of God's re- 
 membrance, 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 with 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, fearful as it is, 
 " covetousness is idolatry." What must have 
 been the abhorrence with which a pious Jew re- 
 garded adultery, when the sin became associated 
 in his mind as the scriptural representation of 
 the guilt of idolatry ! for " Judah committed 
 adultery with stocks and with stones." And 
 yet, great as his conception of its enormity must 
 have been, the apostle James declares of the 
 covetous, that he is violating the most sacred 
 obligations to God, that he is committmg adul- 
 tery with gold. And what can be more fearful 
 in the eyes of a sincere Christian than the sin 
 of apostacy ? of trampling under foot the Son 
 of God ? it is the very consummation of guilt. 
 
130 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 And yet, fearful as it is, the apostle Peter inti- 
 mates tliat covetousness is apostacy. And from 
 the fifth [)art, we learn that covetousness repeals 
 tlje entire law of love; that it proclaims war 
 against all the virtues included in living " sober- 
 ly, righteously, and godly," and is in sworn con- 
 federacy 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 
 covetousness. Entering with the first transgres- 
 sion, and violating the spirit of the whole law, 
 it has polluted, 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 oc- 
 cupying 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 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 131 
 
 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 ex- 
 hibits such a monopoly of guilt, would certainly 
 be no easy task. It has systematized deceit, 
 and made it a science. 
 
 Cunning is its chosen counsellor and guide. 
 It linds its way, as by instinct, through all the 
 intricacies of the great labyrinth of fraud. It 
 parts with no company, and refuses no aid, 
 through fear of contamination. 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. Could we 
 only see it embodied, what a monster should we 
 behold ! Its eyes have no tears. With more 
 than the fifty hands of the fabled giant it grasps 
 at every thing around. In its march through 
 the world, it has been accompanied by artifice 
 and fraud, rapine and injustice, cruelty and 
 murder ; while behind it have dragged heavily 
 its swarms of victims — humanity bleeding, and 
 justice in chains, and religion expiring under its 
 heavy burdens, orphans, and slaves, and op- 
 pressed hirelings, a wailing multitude, reaching 
 to the skirts of the horizon ; and thus dividing 
 the earth 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 
 12* 
 
132 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 the ambition of gaining the whole world, of 
 establishing a universal empire. From the first 
 step of its desolating 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 ? " 
 Even now his ministers of wrath are arming 
 against it. Even now the sword of ultimate 
 justice is receiving a keener edge for its destruc- 
 tion : it is at large only by respite and suffer- 
 ance, from moment to moment. During each of 
 these moments, its accumulation of pelf is only 
 an accumulation " of w rath against the day of 
 wrath." And when those dreadful stores shall 
 be finally distributed 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 covetousness, let us proceed to consider 
 some of the specific evils which it inflicts on 
 Christians individually, on the visible church, 
 and, through these, on the world. 
 
 Were it our object to present a complete cata- 
 logue of the injuries which it inflicts on religion, 
 we should begin by adverting to the fact, that it 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 133 
 
 detains numbers from God. Careful and troub- 
 led about many tilings, 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 Savior'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 
 question 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 re- 
 ligion. The obstacles to the salvation of a man 
 are so numerous and formidable, that the Scrip- 
 tures represent his ultimate success as depending 
 on his " giving all diligence to it." In the econ- 
 omy of salvation, therefore, God graciously un- 
 dertakes to watch over and provide for his tem- 
 poral wants, that, being relieved from all dis- 
 traction from that quarter, he might be able to 
 bend and devote his chief strength to the attain- 
 ment of heaven. But, in guilty counteraction 
 of this arrangement, the covetous professor di- 
 vides 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 sacrificing 
 to mammon. The undivided powers of his 
 mind would not be too much for the claims of 
 religion, and yet he severs and sends the greater 
 proportion of his strength in an opposite direc- 
 
134 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 tion. The consequence is, that his piety is kept 
 in a low, doubtful, disgraceful state. His relig- 
 ious course is marked with hesitation and em- 
 barrassment. The cares of this world, and the 
 deceitfulness of riches, engross the feeling which 
 is the appropriate soil of religion, and which be- 
 longs 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 
 from 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 more 
 natural than that he should 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, exce}»t where grace makes the 
 distinction. 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 astonishment 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 which he deemed sufficient, imported, that 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 135 
 
 as the danfi^er of riches consisted in trustinjr in 
 tliem, so the difliciilty of possessiiicr thein, and 
 not frusiins: in them, is next to an impossibility 
 — a difficulty wliich can only be surmounted by 
 omnipotent grace. 
 
 Now, to trust in any created object, is to par- 
 take of its littlenes*«, 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 paramount regard, he 
 would have crradually received the impress of its 
 cel(?stial attributes ; but by giving his heart to 
 earthly gain, he identifies himself with all its 
 earthly qualities; lets himself down, and adapts 
 himseif to his insignificance ; and vibrates to all 
 its fluctuations, as if the world were an organized 
 body, of which he was the pulse. 
 
 The inconsistencies in which his covetous at- 
 tachments involve him, are grievous and many. 
 His enlightened judgment impels him for happi- 
 ness in one direction, and his earthly inclina- 
 tions draw him in another. In the morning, 
 and at night, probably, he 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. lie hears, without 
 rpiestioning, our Lord's declaration concerning 
 the danirer of riches; and yet, though he is al- 
 ready laden with the thick day, and is daily 
 augmenting his load, he doubts not of passing 
 
136 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 through the eye of the needle, as a matter of 
 course. He professes to be the only 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 the cause ; while to give more than that 
 pittance, especially if it involved an act of self- 
 denial, is a martyrdom he never thought of suf- 
 fering. 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 ob- 
 ject. 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 arranged 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 to 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 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 137 
 
 sinful indulfrences, but he ia restricted to this 
 single gratification. As a Christian professor, 
 he riiust abstain from intemperance, licentious- 
 ness, and profanity; but woridliness 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 ming- 
 ling 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 his 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, nor in the supe- 
 rior simplicity of his tastes, the spiritual eleva- 
 tion of his pursuits, the enlarged benevolence 
 and Christian devotedness of his life — but, that 
 the time which they occupy in spending, he em- 
 ploys in accumulating; the energies which they 
 waste in worldly pleasures, he exhausts in world- 
 ly pursuits ; the property which they devote to 
 amusements abroad, he lavishes on indulgences 
 at home ; and while they are pursuing their grat- 
 ification in one direction, he is indemnifying him- 
 self for not joining them by pursuing his grat- 
 ification as eagerly in another. The loss of one 
 of the bodily senses, it is said, quickens the per- 
 ception of those that remain ; woridliness alone 
 remains to him, and that is quickened and 
 strengthened by perpetual exercise. All that is 
 
138 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 iinsanctified in liis 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 in reality, for not 
 allowing himself to be worldly in ap[)earance. 
 His worldliness is only compressed into a smaller 
 compass. Profess what he may, and stand as 
 high as he may in the opinion of his fellow- 
 professors, 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 atVinity. It magnities 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 enterprise in his service, 
 and never considers itself at liberty to leave its 
 little circle of decent selfishness, in which it mur- 
 murs on account of what it has not are always 
 louder that its thanks for what it has. ** Let 
 your conversation," therefore, says the apostle, 
 " be without covetousness, and be content with 
 such things as ye have." '• Godliness, with con- 
 tentment, is great gain." 
 
 Covetousness neutralizes the effect of the 
 preaching of tiie gospel. The Savior saw this 
 abundantly verified in his own ministry ; and his 
 parable of the sower intimated, that his minis- 
 ters would see it exemplified in theirs also. The 
 judgment of the hearer, it may be, is convinced 
 
OP GOVETOUSNESS. I6\f 
 
 of tho divinity of rrlifjion ; he feels its power, 
 and trenibk's ; lie Ixiliolds its attractions, and is 
 captivated. And could he, at sncli a time, be 
 detached awhile from liis worldly purf-uits, and 
 he closely plied with the melting and majestic 
 clainis of the gospel, he might, by the agency of 
 the Holy S[)irit, be induced to lay up for him- 
 s<dr a treasure in heaven. But the seed has 
 fallen among thorns; "The cares of this world 
 and the dcceiifulness 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 
 liypocrisy in religion. " They spejik one to 
 another, every one to his brother, saying. Come, 
 1 pray you, and hear what is the word that Com- 
 eth forth from the Lord. And they come unto 
 thee as the people cornelh, and they sit before 
 thee as my people; and they hear thy words, but 
 they will not do them : for with their mouth 
 they siiow much love, but their hearts goeth aftef 
 their covetousncss." 'i'o the eye of Omniscience 
 they present the hateful spectacle of so many 
 pieces of solemn formality going through the at- 
 titudes and signs of devotion, but d(!stitute of all 
 corresponding emotions within. He asks for 
 the heart alone ; but they have brought him all 
 excopt the heart. That is far away, in the 
 mart, the field, the business of the world, " buy- 
 ing and selling, and getting gain." 
 13 
 
140 
 
 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 In connexion with this formality, there will 
 necessarily exist a weariness and impatience 
 under the restraints of the Sabbath. The worldly 
 professor feels during the sacred hours as if 
 every thing important were standing still. He 
 is not sensible of any need 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 re- 
 verses the proposition, 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 it- 
 self into the palace of mammon. His motive 
 for assembling with the worshippers of God may 
 be expressed in the language of the Shechemites, 
 \Yhen adopting the religious rites of the sons of 
 Jacob : " Shall not their cattle, and their sub- 
 stance, and every beast of theirs, be ours 1 " 
 But as the ruling principle of his conduct is gain, 
 the same principle which induced them 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 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 141 
 
 again reclaim, and swear them to allegiance 
 atVesl). " They did run well," but the fable of 
 Atalanta became their history — a golden bait 
 was cast in their path; they stopped to take it, 
 and lost the race. In how touchmg a manner 
 does the apostle refer to the fatal declension of 
 some — probably living characters, known both 
 to himself and Timothy — and impute their apos- 
 tacy entirely to their avarice, " Money," .... 
 saith he, " which while some coveted after, they 
 have erred from the faith, and pierced them- 
 selves through with many sorrows." And how 
 likely is it that Bunyan drew from personal obser- 
 vation, when, in his inimitable allegory, he de- 
 scribes 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 mine " 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 com- 
 monly arise, of these things lam not certain; 
 hut this I observed, that they never were seen 
 again in the way." 
 
 But where covetousness does not lead the pro- 
 fessed believer to o|)en apostacy, it involves 
 him in the guilt of idolatry ; and this, in the eye 
 of Scripture, is a step beyond. If the former 
 be the rejection of the true God, the latter is the 
 adoption of a false one. Endeavor to escape 
 from the charge as he may, his covetousness is 
 
142 THE GUILT AND EVILS. 
 
 idolatry. The general impression, on hearing 
 this proposition, is, that the term idulatry is only 
 employed by the apoislle in an accominodated 
 sense — that covetousiiess is only figurative idol- 
 atry. 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 av- 
 aricious man pays to his gold. The ancient 
 Persian, who adored the sun o?ili/ as the visible 
 image of God, was guiltless of idolatry 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 
 acts of mere formal homage are no more neces- 
 sary to constitute a man a worshipper of mam- 
 mon, than they are to render him a real wor- 
 shipper of God ; ill each instance, the homage of 
 the heart is in the stead of all outward prostra- 
 tions. 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 ? regarding it 
 with all those deep feelings, and mental glances, 
 of confidence, which should be reserved for God 
 alone ? 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 eter- 
 nal throne ; and does not his gold, instead of 
 leading his thoughts in gratitude to God, stand 
 between him and the Divine Being, concealing 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 143 
 
 God from his view, engrossing his thouglit to it- 
 self, and filling him with that satisfaction which 
 the soul should find in God alone? If his gold 
 could be endowed with the power of perception, 
 would it not be tempted to think itself a Godi 
 If it possessed the power of reading his heart 
 towards it, would it not find its image enshrined 
 there ? and a degree of aftection lavished on it, 
 and a closeness of communion maintained with 
 it, such as a god might accept 1 His covetousness 
 is idolatry ^ 
 
 Among the fatal evils inflicted by covetousness 
 on 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 ofiice 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 to turn the church itself into the 
 tomb of religion. The former have often jjrop/i- 
 esied falsely , because the people loved to have it 
 so, consulting the depraved tastes of those who 
 iDould not endure s$$iiid doctrine ; the latter have 
 consulted only their own tastes, which sought 
 no higher gratification than the sordid gains of 
 
 ofiice. "Wo unto to them ! for they have 
 
 run greedily after the error of Balaam for re- 
 13* 
 
144 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 ward." "A heart they have exercised with 
 covetous practices; cursed children, .... fol- 
 lowing the way of Balaam, the son of Bosor, 
 who loved the wages of unrighteousness." Like 
 him, both have equally, and for the same rea- 
 sons, labored 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 " their end. Like Judas, both 
 have equally, and for the same reasons, betrayed 
 the Son of God into the hands of his enemies. 
 Like Simon Magus, both have trafficked in the 
 things of God. Bothalike have been ** greedy 
 of filthy lucre ; " have obrruded into the courts of 
 the 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 world. This is the triumph, the 
 apotheosis of Mammon, Piety has left the tem- 
 ple 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 Cliristian Church, as 
 the instrument of the world's conversion, but 
 has done more than any other sin towards the 
 fulfilment of the threat. That our blessed Lord 
 consecrated his church to the high office of con- 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 145 
 
 verting the world, is evident from the final com- 
 mand which he gave it, to go and preach his 
 gospel to every creature. That the execution 
 of this sacred trust would be endangered prin- 
 cipally by a spirit of covetousness, was possibly 
 presignified by the sin of Judas. But a more 
 emphatic intimation of the same danger had been 
 given in the history of the Jewish church; for 
 ihe Jirst sin of that church in Canaan, as we 
 have remarked already, was in the accursed things 
 when Israel fled 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] its 
 very Jirst sin consisted in one of its members 
 keeping hack part of his property through covet- 
 ousness. Whether or not these intimations were 
 necessary, we will leave the history of the sub- 
 sequent corruptions of Christianity to testify. 
 
 But even since the church ceased to be the 
 vortex of the world's wealth, since the period 
 ceased when it 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 1 The unrepealed 
 command of Christ has been known to its mem- 
 bers; they have had the means of carrying it 
 extensively into eff*ect ; 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 pros- 
 perity has so completely engrossed them, that 
 
146 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 tliey have tbougbt 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 1 If this be 
 venial negligence, what is aggravated criminali- 
 ty 1 It is a sin which 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. Multi- 
 tudes have died, numbers are dying, all are ap- 
 proaching the point of starvattion. Besides 
 which, a powerful enemy is gathering on their 
 frontiers, and threatening to hasten the work of 
 death. The government at home opens its 
 stores ; public charity bursts forth and pours re- 
 lief through a thousand channels. A fleet is 
 freighted with the precious means of life, and 
 despatched to the scene of suffering, 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 envy, their impressions of its importance 
 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 advantages here present themselves; 
 the spirit of gain takes possession of them ; they 
 cire 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 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 147 
 
 themselves ; ami thus an enterprise of benefi- 
 cence on which God had smiled, sinks into a 
 batie mercamile 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 burned." Impossible, in the 
 sense supposed ; but in a higher sense it has 
 been realised, and far, far exceeded. The 
 world was perishing; the compassion of God 
 was moved ; the means of salvation were pro- 
 vided — and, O! at how costly a price ! — the 
 church was charged to convey them without de- 
 lay to her dying fellow-men, and to pause not in 
 iier office of mercy till the last sinner had enjoy- 
 ed 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 directn€ss 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. Continents were yet to be 
 visited, and mdlions to be rescued, when she 
 paused in her onward cause. 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, 
 
148 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 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 pe- 
 riod 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 " buy- 
 ing, and selling, and getting gain." " Each 
 one," says Cyprian, as early as the middle of the 
 third century, — "each one studies how to in- 
 crease his patrimony, and forgetting what the 
 faithful did in apostolic times, or what they 
 ought always to do, their great passion is an in- 
 satiable desire of enlarging their fortunes." 
 
 This, however, is not the extent of the evil 
 which covetousness inflicts on the cause of human 
 happiness. It has not only rendered the major- 
 ity 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 firm- 
 er bonds of allegiance to sin, than would other- 
 wise 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; wor- 
 shippers together in the temple of mammon ; 
 running the same race for the prize of wealth; 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 149 
 
 having no aims or desires but such as wealth 
 could ufratify; and, consequently, bendini^ all 
 your endeavors afier it. Sui»se(iuently, however, 
 you profess to have undergone a change ; and, 
 when they hear you describe the nature of that 
 chancre, or hear it described for you, they hear 
 it said that you have at lenorth 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, abandonit)g 
 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 ardor 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, they know not ; but they 
 will readily acquit you 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 ob- 
 ject 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 
 
150 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 tenacity of your grasp on wealth, and denounced 
 for your devotion to self and your want of devo- 
 tion to the cause of your new adoption, liow can 
 they be otherwise than confirmed in their opinion 
 that your profession is hypocrisy, and all religion 
 only a name ? And the effect is, to deepen the 
 sleep into which tiiey 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 omnip- 
 otence 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 confronting death. The conta- 
 gion of their example they could not resist ; they 
 fell into their 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 thy kindness to 
 thy friend ? Has He who died for you deserved 
 
OF COVETOUSNESS. 151 
 
 tliis at your hands? He intended that, hy the 
 evident subordination of your property to him, 
 yoa should proclaim to the world your conviction 
 of his divine superiority, and thus aim to in- 
 crease the number of his subjects ; whereas 
 your evident attachment to it, tells them there is 
 a rival interest in your heart, weakens their con- 
 viction of your religious sincerity, and thus ren- 
 ders 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 disparag- 
 ing and forsaking the only true standard of ex- 
 cellence, has introduced an irreconcilable vari- 
 ance 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. 
 
 Tlie determinate influence of money, we say, 
 appears in this — that it comes at length to erect 
 a new standard 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 
 14 
 
]52 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 thousand actions are made legal, and have be- 
 come familiar, thouo:h 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 his soul is placed above all other consid- 
 erations ; in theirs, it is treated as an imperti- 
 nence, and expelled. In their language, wealth 
 means wisdom, worth happiness ; while the ex- 
 planation which he gives of it is temptation^ van- 
 ity, 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 of the covetous, and com- 
 manding 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 covet- 
 ous, whom the Lord abhorreth." 
 
 Thus, if sin has produced a revolution in this 
 part of the divine dominions, it seems to have 
 been the effect of wealth to give to that revolu- 
 tion the consolidation of a well-organized em- 
 pire. 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 classifica- 
 
OP COVETOUSNESS. 153 
 
 tions to human character and society ; — the 
 whole resultincT in a kingdom in which a divine 
 authority is uii;ickno\viedged, and from wliich 
 every memento ot" the divine presence is jealously 
 excluded. 
 
 Now, one of the leading purposes of God in 
 instituting a church, is, that, in tiie midst of this 
 awful confederation of evil, he might have a 
 people perpetually protesting against the pre- 
 vailing apostacy. For this purpose, he gives 
 them himself, that, by admitting tliem to the 
 Fountain, he might raise them, before the eyes 
 of the world, to an independence of the streams. 
 And, for the same puri)Ose, he gives them a 
 portion of earthly property, of that common ob- 
 ject of worldly trust, that they might have an op- 
 portunity of disparaging it before the world, by 
 subordinating it to spiritual ends, and thus pub- 
 licly 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 efiectually than by assuming the most 
 marked badge, or by making the most ostenta- 
 tious profession ; they would be employing the 
 only arguinent for the reality of religion which 
 the world generally will regard, which it cannot 
 resist, and which would serve in the stead of all 
 ether arguments. Many things there are which 
 
154 THE GUILT AND EVILS 
 
 the world can part with, many sacrifices which 
 it can make, in imitation of the Christian ; but to 
 *' esteem the reproach of Christ greater riches 
 than all the treasures of Egypt," to sacrifice 
 wealth, is an immolation, a miracle of devoted- 
 ness, which no arts of worldly enchantment can 
 imitate. They can understand how reHgion may 
 be subordinated to gain ; but that gain should 
 be sacrificed to God, is a mystery which no ar- 
 ticle in their creed, no principle in their philos- 
 ophy, 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 led it in triumph 
 through the world. 
 
 But of how large a proportion of professing 
 Christians 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 in- 
 stitution. Their property, which was meant to 
 furnish them with the means of deprecating and 
 denouncing the wealth-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 sym- 
 bolized with the world more cordially than on 
 any other — standing on the same ground, pur- 
 suing the same ends, governing themselves by the 
 same maxims. By virtually falling down before 
 
OP COVETOUSNESS. 155 
 
 the golden image which the world has set up, 
 they have thrown opprobrium on the voluntary 
 poverty of Christ, obscured the distinctive spirit- 
 uality of his kingdom, brought into question the 
 very reahty 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 univer- 
 sal consent to infamy of the deepest dye ; but 
 they, by paying homage to wealth, have betrayed 
 a cause which involves infinite results, have de- 
 serted their standard in the time of conflict, 
 joined hands with the common foe, and thus lent 
 themselves to reinforce and establish the do- 
 minion of sin. 
 
 14* 
 
SECTION VIII. 
 
 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 If the guilt of covetousness be so enormous, 
 can we wonder at the variety of methods by 
 which a gracious God seeks to prevent it 1 or at 
 the solemn threatenings which a holy God de- 
 nounces against it ? The description of the sin 
 which we have already given, so evidently in- 
 volves its condemnation, that on this part of the 
 subject we shall be comparatively brief. 
 
 The extreme punishment which awaits the 
 practice of covetousness may be inferred from 
 the circumstance that the tenth command de- 
 nounces the sin in its 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 shalt 
 not grasp covdousli/ ; thou shalt not steal ; the 
 law had said this before. But, instead of wait- 
 
THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 157 
 
 ing for the eye and the hand to do this, it goes 
 in to the heart — " for out of the heart proceedeth 
 covctousness " — 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 us that the pursuit of these 
 objects is attended with corroding anxiety and 
 exhausting toil ; that they are jilthy lucre — 
 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 thei/ are not, 
 they are only the mirage of the world's desert ; 
 that they are unsatisfactory — " 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 morti- 
 fication, and a separation from them with an- 
 guish ; in a word, that they are dangerous and 
 destructive, leading men " into temptation and 
 
 * Thiis the Greeks spoke of PliUus, the god of riches, as 
 a fickle divinity ; representing him as blind, to intimate 
 that he distributes his favors indiscriminately ; as lame, 
 to denote the slowness with which he approaches; and 
 winged, to imply the velocity with which he Hies away. 
 
158 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS* 
 
 a snare, and piercing them through with many 
 sorrows ; " and thus, in their very 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 ap- 
 proach. They all seem to say, as we put forth 
 our hand to take them, " Do not covet me — do 
 not take me to your heart, or I shall certainly 
 disappoint, 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 have 
 possessed it, what tales of toil, anxiety, and 
 guilt, of heartless treachery, and fiendish cir- 
 cumvention, of conscience 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 suffer- 
 ings of Lot, the stoning of Achan, the leprosy of 
 Gehazi, or the fate of Judas, the secret of their 
 punishment is explained when the Almighty de- 
 clares, " 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 comincr doom? the scintillations of that wrath, 
 
THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 159 
 
 the flashes of that distant fire which is kindled 
 already to consume it ? 
 
 And not only has he punished it; he is visit- 
 iufr and denouncing it at the irrcsent moment. 
 " Woe to him that coveteth an evil covetousness 
 to his house, that he may set his nest on liigh, 
 that he may be delivered from the power of evil! 
 Thou hast consulted shame to thy house by cut- 
 ting ofi' many people, and hast sinned against 
 thy soul. For the stone 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 securi- 
 ty shall reproach him for the grasping injustice 
 of the means by which it was reared. jMysteri- 
 ous 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 sjicctre 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 j)nnish him. 
 
 The law of God is still in the act of condemning 
 covetousness. 'J'he fires of Sinai, indeed, have 
 ceased to burn, and its thunders have ceased to 
 utter their voices ; but that law, in honor of 
 which these terrors appeared, is in force still ; 
 that law which said, " Tiiou shalt not covet," 
 is burnincr and thundering against covetousness 
 still. It has been republished under the gospel 
 with additional sanctions ; it is written by the 
 finger of the Spirit on the fleshly tables of every 
 
160 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 renewed heart ; it is inscribed by Ppovidence on 
 every object of hum;ui 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 
 ihein — if then the terrors of another Sinai do not 
 kindle and flash forth upon us, 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 inordi- 
 nate worldly desire there, it takes cognizance of 
 it, and denounces against it the wrath of God. 
 Lost its force ! It is daily following the covet- 
 ous through the world, tracking them through 
 all the windings of their devious course, chasing 
 them out of the loorld, pursuing them down to 
 their own place, and kindling around them there 
 fires such as Sinai never saw. 
 
 " The wicked blesseth the covetous whom the 
 Lord abhorreth." Not only does the law con- 
 demn him, hut God abhors him; and how hate- 
 ful must that sin be, which, in any sense, com- 
 pels 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 covetous- 
 ness against which the Scriptures launch their 
 most terrible anathemas is not of the scandalous 
 kind, 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 
 
THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. IGl 
 
 punished, its grosser degrees have every thing to 
 fear. Here, for examjjie, is a covetous man of 
 ulioni the wicked speak well — a proof that lie is 
 not rapacious or avaricious, for a person of such 
 a stamp is commended by none — and yet God 
 abhors iiim. And ulio can conceive the misery 
 of being abliorred 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 in- 
 creasing with every passing year, the punish- 
 ment 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 aug- 
 menting, of which the rich man in the parable 
 forms the aj)palling type ! 
 
 But " behold, another woe cometh ! " Anoth- 
 er seal is yet to be opened, and Death will be 
 seen, with 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 draw- 
 ing nearer. And the apostle James, addressing 
 the covetous of his day, exclaimed, in reference 
 to the approaching destruction of the Jewish 
 state," " Come now, ye rich men, weep and 
 howl over the miseries that are coming upon 
 you. Your riches are corrupted, and your gar- 
 
162 
 
 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 ments are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver 
 are cankered, and their rust shall be a witness 
 against you, and shall eat into your flesh as fire : 
 ye have laid up treasures for the last days." 
 But if temporal calamities called for such an in- 
 tense agony of grief, such a convocation of 
 tears, and groans, and lamentations, where is 
 the form of sorrow equal to the doom which 
 awaits the covetous in the last day ? — where are 
 the tears fit to be shed in that hour when the 
 tarnish of that gold and silver which ought to 
 have been kept bright by a generous circulation, 
 shall testify against them, and, like caustic, 
 shall corrode and burn them ! — and when, how- 
 ever much they may have suffered for their cov- 
 etousness on earth, they shall find that they were 
 only receiving the interest of the vvrath'they had 
 laid up, that the principal has gone on daily ac- 
 cumulating ; that they have been treasuring up 
 wrath against the day of wrath, till the dreadful 
 store has overflowed. 
 
 The covetous will then find themselves placed 
 '* on the left hand of the Judge." And lie will 
 say unto them, *' I was hungry, and ye gave me 
 no meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me no 
 drink '- I was a stranger, and ye took me not in : 
 naked, and ye clothed me not : sick, and in 
 prison, and ye visited me not." Then practical 
 benevolence, as the result of evangelical piety, 
 is the hinge on which our final destiny will turn ! 
 This language contains a rule of judgment, 
 which, in the hands of Christ, is capable of re- 
 ceiving universal application. It obviously ira- 
 
THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNICSS. 1G3 
 
 plies tliat he has a cause in the world — the 
 cause of human salvation ; and that all wlio do 
 not practically attach themselves to it, deny 
 themselves oil account of it, love tliose who be- 
 long to it, and supremely value him who is the 
 Divine Author of it, will be finally disowned and 
 condemned. 
 
 And here again it is important to remark, that 
 the covetousness which is threatened to be placed 
 at the left i)and of the Judge, is not of the 
 scandalous kind. Had not the Judge himself 
 described it, we might have supposed that this 
 fearful position would be occupied only by the 
 outlaws of humanity, monsters of rapacity, ava- 
 rice and injustice. But no. The fig-tree was 
 withered, not for bearing bad fruit, but for yield- 
 ing no fruit. The foolish virgins were excluded 
 from the marriage-feast, not for casting away 
 their lamps, but for not using them. The un- 
 profitable servant was cast into outer darkness, 
 not for wasting the talent committed to him, but 
 for not employing it. The wordling whom our 
 lord, denominates a/oo/ is not charged with any 
 positive sins : for aught that appears, he had 
 been honest and industrious ; his diligence had 
 been crowned with success, and he proposed to 
 enjoy that success, in retirement and ease ; — and 
 what is this but an every-day history 1 or, where 
 is the man that does not commend him, and take 
 him for a model ? But he had "laid up treas- 
 ures" only " for himself, and was not rich to- 
 wards God;" and therefore is he summoned 
 suddenly to appear as a guilty criminal at the 
 15 
 
164 
 
 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 bar of God. And they who do not now learn 
 the moral of his history — " to take heed and be- 
 ware of covetousness " — are here represented as 
 finally sharing his doom. They may have been 
 as free as the reader from all the grosser vices. 
 They may have had many negative virtues, like 
 him, and have often boasted that they did no 
 harm. But the ground of their condemnation 
 will be, that they did no good. They may have 
 occasionally exercised that empty benevolence 
 which costs neither effort nor sacrifice. But 
 they practised no self-denial, made no retrench- 
 ments, took no pains, in the cause of mercy. 
 They never once thought of adopting and es- 
 pousing that cause as an object in which they 
 were interested ; and which looked to them for 
 support. Had it been left entirely to them, it 
 would have been famished with hunger, have 
 pined in sickness, have been immured in a pri- 
 son, and have perished from the world. Most 
 justly, therefore, will they find themselves placed 
 on the left hand of the Judge. 
 
 In that fearful situation the covetous man tcill 
 be an object of wonder and aversion to all the 
 righteous. " The righteous shall see, and shall 
 laugh at him : Lo, this is the man that made 
 not God his strength, but trusted in the abun- 
 dance of his riches." In a popular sense, he 
 may have been moral, and even generous ; but 
 he had " made gold his hope, and had said to the 
 fine gold, Thou art my confidence." His wealth 
 had been his strong tower, but that tower shall 
 attract the bolt of Heaven. His very armor shall 
 
THE D003I OF COVETOUSNESS. 165 
 
 draw the lightning down. The exposure of his 
 trust shall excite the scorn and derision of tlie 
 universe. ** Men shall clap their hands at him, 
 and shall hiss him out out of his place." That he 
 should have thought to extract happiness from a 
 clod of earth ; that he should have reckoned a 
 little gold an equivalent for God ; that a rational 
 and immortal being should have been guilty of 
 such an enormity, will suspend all pity in the 
 minds of the righteous. The unhappy being 
 will behold every finger pointed at him in scorn ; 
 will hear himself mocked at as a prodigy of 
 folly ; will be scoffed and chased beyond the 
 limits of God's happy dominions. 
 
 ** He shall not inherit the kingdom of God." 
 In the classifications of this world, the Christian 
 mammonist may stand among the holy and ex- 
 cellent of the earth ; but, in the final arrange- 
 ments of the judgment-day, he will have a new 
 place assigned him. As soon as his character 
 becomes known, the righteous will no longer be 
 burdened and disgraced with his presence ; they 
 will cast him forth as an alien from their commu- 
 nity ; " he shall not inherit the kingdom of God." 
 And the very same act which removes him from 
 their community shall transfer him " to his own 
 place" — to the congenial society of the drunk- 
 ard, the unbeliever, the idolater, and of all who, 
 like himself, made not God their trust. " Know 
 ye not," saith the apostle, that this is the divine 
 determination ? It is no new arrangement, no 
 recent enactment of the Supreme Lawgiver, 
 arising from a view of the exigency of the case ; 
 
166 THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 
 
 it is the operation of a hiown law, eternal and 
 immutable as its own nature ; — "He shall not 
 inherit the kingdom of God." The lax opin- 
 ions of the church on the sin of covetousness 
 may delude him with the hope that he shall, that 
 cupidity alone shall not exclude him from the 
 divine presence; but "let no man deceive you 
 with vain words," saith the apostle; the decree 
 has gone forth against every covetous man, 
 whatever his standing may be in the Christian 
 church, — " He shall not have any inheritance 
 in the kingdom of Christ and God." The splen- 
 dors of a worldly kingdom he may inherit ; 
 streams of worldly affluence may seem to seek 
 him, and, like a sea, he may receive them all ; 
 but he gives not God the glory, he makes himself 
 no heavenly friends with the mammon of unright- 
 eousness, he thinks not of transferring his treas- 
 ures by deeds of beneficence to the hands of God ; 
 and, consequently, when he passes out of time 
 into eternity, though he should be sought for be- 
 fore the throne of God, above, sought for diligent- 
 ly among all the ranks of the blessed, he would 
 no where be found, for " he shall not inherit the 
 kingdom of God." 
 
 The final destination of the covetous is hell. 
 Having convicted them of their guilt, the Judge 
 will say to them, in common with all the other 
 classes of the ungodly, ** Depart from me, ye 
 cursed, into everlasting fire ; prepared for the 
 devil and his angels." And then will they be- 
 hold their covetousness in its true light. They 
 will see that it involved an attempt to erect 
 
THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 167 
 
 another centre tlmn God, in which they might 
 find happiness and repose ; and, therefore, when 
 he shall place himself as in the centre of his 
 people, and say to them, *' Come," the covetous 
 will feel the rectitude of the sentence which 
 shall command them to "depart." They will 
 then discover that, in withholding their property 
 from benevolent objects, they were withholding it, 
 in effect from him ; and therefore, they shall 
 acknowledge the justice of his withholding him- 
 self from them. They belong to a schism, com- 
 pared with which every other is unworthy of 
 the name — the great schism of the selfish. 
 Though professing to belong to that vast spiritual 
 community in heaven and earth, of which Christ 
 is the supreme Head, they will then discover 
 that, in reality, they have attached themselves to 
 the great party of the world, adopting its sym- 
 bols, governing themselves by its maxims, and 
 pursuing its ends ; and, therefore, with it they 
 must " depart." And then first will they esti- 
 mate truly the dreadful nature of their doom. 
 For when he shall say, " Depart," every thing 
 else — every being, every place in the universe, 
 but hell — shall repeat, " Depart ; " casting them 
 forth, disowning them, and refusing them sym- 
 pathy and refuge. " The heaven shall reveal 
 their iniquity, and the earth shall rise up against 
 them." " They shall go away into everlasting 
 punishment." 
 
 15* 
 
SECTION IX. 
 
 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY"* 
 
 In his solemn description of the general judg- 
 ment, our Lord represents the ungodly as startled 
 at the true picture of their own selfishness. 
 Never having reflected on their conduct in its 
 religious bearing and ultimate effects, they can- 
 not allow that the charge alleged by the Judge 
 can have any application to them. They hasten, 
 therefore, to put in their pleas in arrest of judg- 
 ment, to stay their doom. In like manner, on 
 surveying the magnitude of the evils arising to 
 religion from a covetous spirit, the first impres- 
 sion of a person implicated, may probably be of 
 the nature of a remonstrance which may be in- 
 terpreted thus : — If I am chargeable with cu- 
 pidity, the degree in which I indulge the passion 
 can surely bear no relation whatever to evils so 
 enormous, and consequences so dreadful. / 
 have often given to the claims of benevolence ; 
 I am in the habit of contributing as others do; 
 I consider that I am benefiting the community 
 
EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 169 
 
 as much, if not more, by spending than by giv- 
 ing ; I give as muck as I conveniently can ; had 
 I more to bestow, I would certainly give it ; and 
 I intend to remember the cause of God in the final 
 arrangements of my property ; so that whoever 
 may merit these strictures on covetousness, they 
 can only apply to me, if at all, in the most miti- 
 gated sense. 
 
 The plausible air which this remonstrance 
 wears requires that it should receive examina- 
 tion. You have given, you say, to the cause of 
 Christian philanthropy. But it may be inquired, 
 when have you given? Has it been o?dy 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 ? 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 1 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 
 aflfectionately remind you that if you have given 
 to God at such times only, it proves to be a demon- 
 stration 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 
 
170 EXCUSES OP COVETOUSNESS 
 
 the insane, so your accidental and occasional 
 charities still leave you in the ranks of the cov- 
 etous. 
 
 But as you plead that you have given, it may 
 be inquired further — what have you given ? The 
 mere circumstance of a Christian professor de- 
 voting a part of his 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 false- 
 hood, 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 stigma- 
 tized as covetous on account of what he with- 
 holds. 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 
 thay may keep their all. They pay this insignif- 
 icant fraction in tribute to a clamorous con- 
 science, in order that they may buy off the great 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 171 
 
 bulk of their wealth, find quietly consume it on 
 their selfishnes.s Her greatness of soul, her 
 magnanimous benevolence, held the Savior of 
 the world in admiration, and drew from him 
 words of complacency and delig'ht. Their pre- 
 tended imitation of her conduct is an insult to 
 her munificence, and to the praise which the be- 
 nevolent Jesus bestowed on it. And yet to which 
 of these two classes of donors do you approach 
 the nearest 1 Benevolence, you are aware, is 
 comparative : there are some who have given 
 their all to God, and there are 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 yjro/;or^/o?i in which you have 
 borne the fruits of the 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 incjuire — have you ever reflected whether 
 or not others have adopted the right standard of 
 benevolence 1 The amount of property devoted 
 by the Christian public to God is annually in- 
 creasing: does not that imply that Christians, at 
 present, are oidy approaching the proper stand- 
 ard of liberality, rather than that they have al- 
 ready reached it? And would it not be noble, 
 would it not be godlike in you, were you to reach 
 the standard before them ; were you to take your 
 
172 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 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 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 i^ules, passed the 
 prescribed limits of benevolence. 
 
 We have supposed that \ou not only plead the 
 example of others, but that you are also ready to 
 add, "I contribute as ?nuch 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 conveni- 
 ent to your luxury, or convenient to your bare 
 personal comfort? And, secondly, vviiether what 
 is generally understood by personal convenience, 
 is precisely the kind of arbitrator to which a 
 Christian can safely refer the amount of his char- 
 ity ? 
 
 When you say that you contribute as much 
 as you conveniently can, we presume your mean- 
 ing to be that you devote to bencvuleni uses all 
 that your present rate of expenditure happens to 
 
TOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 173 
 
 leave unappropriated to other objects. But liere 
 again two questions arise : if your expenditure 
 is calculated and reduced to a plan, ought not 
 the question lioiv much shall 1 devote to God ? 
 to have made an original part of the plan 1 But 
 since you confess that grave omission, ought you 
 not now to think of retrenching your expenses, 
 and reducing your plan, that your charity may 
 not be left to the mercy of an expensive and 
 selfish convenience ? Do you not know that all 
 the great works of the Christian church have 
 been performed by sacrificing your favorite prin- 
 ciple, 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 distin- 
 guished 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 re- 
 minded, 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 unfaithfulness to your present trust 
 may operate with God to forbid your further pros- 
 perity ? for, is it not a law of his kingdom, that 
 the misimproved talent shall be icithdrawn from 
 the possessor, rather than increased 7 Besides 
 which, you are closing your eyes to eternal con- 
 sequences; for ** he that soweth sparingly shall 
 reap sparingly." The husbandman who should 
 
174 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 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 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 employ- 
 ing and supporting the very classes who sub- 
 scribe to and principally sustain the cause of 
 Christian charity." 
 
 To such a statement we can only reply, gen- 
 erally, that your scale of expenditure must de- 
 pend, partly, on the rank you hold in society; 
 that to arbitrate correctly between the claims of 
 self and the cause of mercy, is the great problem 
 of Christian benevolence ; and that, if you have 
 solved this problem scripturally and conscientious- 
 ly before God, it is not for man to sit in judg- 
 ment on your conduct. 
 
 But if you have not — if the question still re- 
 main open for consideration, your attention is 
 earnestly solicited to three classes of remarks — 
 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 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 175 
 
 liberality to which you are urged is not that in- 
 discriminate alins-g^iving which would encourage 
 idleness and iiiij)rovidence. 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 ben- 
 eficial — a charity which should at once discour- 
 age vice ; assist the helpless, destitute, and dis- 
 eased ; reclaim and reform the vicious; civilize 
 barbarism ; call into activity the physical, men- 
 tal, and moral resources of savage lands; excite 
 and reward industry ; instruct the ignorant ; 
 circulate the word of God ; send 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 labor and wealth, 
 you have to consider that the labor which is 
 beneficial to the individual, may be quite unprof- 
 itable to the country, and, in the end, injurious, 
 and even ruinous; otherwise, war, or the multi- 
 plication 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; 
 16 
 
176 
 
 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 Otherwise, the colonial mines of Spain would be 
 still her boast and glory, instead of accounting, 
 as they unquestionably do, for her national pov- 
 erty. And the question is, whether much of 
 your outlay, though it may encourage labor, 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 de- 
 plores, of shortening tiie intervals between what 
 are called the periodical crashes, and of proving 
 in the end a national bane, and not a blessing. 
 
 We might, indeed, by taking advantage of a 
 distinction which obtains in political economy 
 between productive and unproductit^e consump- 
 tion, undertake to show, that by expending your 
 revenue on the superfluities of life you are con- 
 suming it unproductively, that is, in a way which 
 does not add to the annual quantity or value of 
 the national produce ; and that you are thus com- 
 paratively sinking and absorbing in self-indul- 
 gence that which might have augmented the na- 
 tional wealth, and have made you a greater na- 
 tional 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 attend- 
 ed with positive evils. For, in order to support 
 it, a proprietor 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 pur- 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 177 
 
 chase that, tlie laborer must receive increased 
 wages ; and tlie consequence is, that that large 
 number of the human family whose means of 
 subsistence are precarious, experience an increas- 
 ed dilliculty in obtaining even this scanty supply. 
 Besides which, a useless consumption, by keeping 
 up a high scale of expenditure, and engrossing 
 the time of the producer, ])revents leisure, and 
 thus retards mental cultivation, and real improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Again ; employing the term logical in the 
 humblest sense, and for the sake of distinction, 
 it may be inquired — if there be really so much 
 benefit as you suppose accruing to the commu- 
 nity from what you spend on superfluities, would 
 you not 1)0 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 it be not your duty to spend 
 all you can upon them? to withdraw even that 
 small modicum which you now dispense in char- 
 ity, and to devote that also to " the pride of life 1 " 
 But from such a conclusion you recoil with dis- 
 may ; though it seems only the legitimate appli- 
 cation of your own principle. You add, also, 
 that the money which you expend in luxury act- 
 ually employs the very classes who subscribe to, 
 and principally suj)port, the cause of Christian 
 charity. As far as you are concerned, remem- 
 ber, this is purely accidental. Whatever credit 
 may be due to them for thus consecrating the 
 fruit of their labor to (iod, not a particle of that 
 credit can properly accrue to you. Besides, if 
 
178 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 they do right in thus taking their property to 
 God, are you not doing wrong in taking your 
 property from him ? and will not their conduct 
 be cited against you in condemnation? To be 
 consistent with yourself, you must actually con- 
 demn them for appropriating so much of their 
 property to God. On your principle, they are 
 essentially wrong for not indulging more in su- 
 perfluities. For, if your self-indulgence, in this 
 respect, works so beneficially for the general 
 good, would not their self-indulgence work equal- 
 ly well ? From this conclusion, also, you prob- 
 ably recoil, though it seems only the legitimate 
 application of your own principle. 
 
 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 do- 
 ing more good by spending what you do in lux- 
 ury, 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 expendi- 
 ture a sincere desire to benefit the community 1 
 or, are you not actuated rather by a love of self- 
 gratification 1 Because, if so, it would be well 
 for you to remember, that, though God may 
 overrule your evil for good — though your profu- 
 sion, as a matter of political economy, should 
 be proved to work well, and to be worthy of 
 praise, yet, as a question of morality, bearing on 
 
FOR ITS WANT OP LIBERALITY. 
 
 179 
 
 your eternal state, it may endanger your safety, 
 and aggravate your condemnation. If it be true, 
 tliat your eternal welfare depends on the ascen- 
 dancy which the spiritual may now gain over 
 the sensible — and that every additional worldly 
 indulgence is so much advantage given to the 
 flesh over the spirit, are you not, by your profu- 
 sion, endangering your own everlasting peace 
 for the sake of uncertainly promoting the tem- 
 poral welfare of others ? and is not this a most 
 romantic mode of self-immolation 1 a loving of 
 your neighbor, not merely as yourself, but en- 
 thusiastically 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 the classes 
 below you to aspire to an imitation of your style 
 of living. It provokes that fierce and ruinous 
 competition of fashion so generally complained 
 of, and which you yourself, perhaps, loudly dep- 
 recate ; and it gives the enemies of religion oc- 
 casion to triumph, and to say, in the language 
 of one of our leading Reviews, ''The godly tes- 
 tify no reluctance to follow the footsteps of the 
 worldly, in the way to wealth. They quietly 
 and fearlessly repose amidst the many luxuries 
 it enables them to procure. We see their houses 
 furnished in every way to gratify the lust of the 
 tlesh, the desire of the eye, and the pride of 
 life; and their tables covered with (he same 
 luxurious viands that are in ordinary use with 
 the men of the world. This self-indulgence, 
 and worldly conformity, and vain glory, although 
 16* 
 
180 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 at variance with the spirit and principles 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." Cer- 
 tain 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. Rich- 
 es were never yet known to cure a selfish ex- 
 travagance, 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 
 that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with sil- 
 ver : nor he that loveth abundance with in- 
 
 Nec Crad foriuna U7iquam, nee Persiea Regna 
 Suffieient animo 
 
 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 incomCj as a faithful servant of 
 Jesus Christ. Till this be effected, the aug- 
 mentation 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 individ- 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 181 
 
 ual who professes to desire opulence only for the 
 sake of havin*^ more to bestow, and who makes 
 tiiat desire an excuse for giving nothing at 
 present, gives ground to fear that his desire is 
 only a pretext for indulging covetousness under 
 the mask of religion. But you are not to wait 
 till you have reached what you deem the best 
 possible state for the exercise of benevolencft. 
 The charity required at your hands at present, 
 is only such as your limited resources will al- 
 low ; three mites 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 the Apostle would excite our admira- 
 tion by the wonders of the Christian church, he 
 tells us of " the churches of Macedonia, how 
 that in a great trial of affliction, the abundance 
 of their joy, and their deep poverty, abounded 
 unto the riches of their liberality." 
 
 Or, perhaps you belong to those who triumph 
 in their own mind over every charge of cupidity, 
 by remembering that they have made arrange- 
 ments to be charitable at death. A life of be- 
 
182 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 nevolence ending in a munificent bequest, is 
 like a glorious sunset to a summer's day : but 
 no posthumous charity can justify a life of ava- 
 rice, or redeem it from infamy. To defer relig- 
 ion till your last hour, is guilt of the deepest 
 dye : can it be innocent, then, to defer the 
 practice of one o fits most important relative du- 
 ties till the same crisis arrives ? Were you to 
 direct that a splendid asylum should arise over 
 your dust, it would still be the monument of a 
 covetous man ; and on its front might be written, 
 as an appropriate inscription, " The triumph of 
 death over avarice." For he who withholds 
 his hand from deeds of benevolence till his last 
 hour, surrenders his property to death, rather 
 than devotes it to God. 
 
 Besides, you are acting in direct opposition 
 to the settled arrangements of Providence, and 
 to the most distinct intimations of the divine 
 will. Your charity, as it is to be future, is 
 made to depend on the most contingent circum- 
 stances. " I had got, in all my life," saith 
 Baxter, "the just sum of a thousand pounds. 
 Having no child, I devoted it to charity. Be- 
 fore my purpose was accomplished, the King 
 caused his exchequer to be shut, and it was 
 lost; which I mention, to counsel any man that 
 would do good, to do it speedily, and with all 
 his might." But by makiug your charily to con- 
 sist only in testamentary beqiier^ts, yf>'» in*e cal- 
 culating on the certainty and stability of that, 
 which has become the very emblem of change 
 and uncertainty. 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 183 
 
 What you are proposing to defer till the peri- 
 od of your natural death, tiie Christian, if he 
 acts in harmony with his profession, feels him- 
 self bound to do when he dies unto sin ; then he 
 devotes himself and his property to God ; and 
 with this immense advantage over you, that he 
 will be his own executor ; that he will enjoy the 
 godlike satisfaction of doing, himself, for God, 
 what you will leave to be done by others. You 
 profess to regard yourself only as the steward of 
 your ])roperly, and God as its supreme Propri- 
 etor ; but instead of employing it for his glory, 
 and rendering to him a periodical account of 
 your stewardship, your covetousness makes it 
 necessary that death should deprive you of your 
 office, in order that the property you hold may 
 not lie useless forever. Your Lord admonishes 
 you to make to yourself friends of the mammon 
 of unrighteousness, that when you fail tiiey may 
 receive you into everlasting habitations ; but, 
 however welcome the arrival, and cheering the 
 reception, of the benevolent Christian in heaven, 
 it is evident that no such a greeting can be there 
 awaiting you : the only signs of joy your spirit 
 will meet with, will be occasioned by the libera- 
 tion of your property by the hand of death, and 
 as such, they will wear the aspect of upbraiding 
 and reproach. And when your Lord shall come 
 to receive his own with usury, instead of being 
 able to refer to the multiplication of the talents 
 with which he intrusted you, tliat multii)licati<jn 
 will have yet to commence, lor your talents will 
 only just then have emerged into the light ; you 
 
184 
 
 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 will have drawn on yourself the doom of the un- 
 profitable servant. You are reversing the di- 
 vine arrangement, which would have caused your 
 death to be deprecated as a loss, and you are 
 voluntarily classing yourself with the refuse of 
 society, whose death is regarded as a gain : those 
 who might have prayed for your continuance on 
 earth as a benefit to the church, are, for that 
 very reason, tempted rather to desire your de- 
 parture. Were your conduct to be generally 
 adopted, what loss would the cause of Christ 
 sustain by the death of half the Christian world? 
 so completely is that conduct at variance with 
 the divine arrangements, that such a bereave- 
 ment, which we cannot contemplate now with- 
 out horror, would, in such a case, become indis- 
 pensable to the continuance of his cause upon 
 earth. 
 
 But another question remains : having shown 
 that dying charity is a miserable substitute for 
 living benevolence, it is now important to inquire 
 what the amount of your charitable bequests 
 may be.* We are aware that this question of 
 proportion is one entirely between you and God ; 
 and one which must be regulated by circum- 
 stances of which you are to be supposed the best 
 judge. In the great majority of instances, how- 
 ever, the portion of a testator's property which 
 
 * The writer v.ould take the liberty of recommending 
 an excellent little work, called " Testamentary Counsels," 
 published by Ward and Co.; containmg much on the 
 subject of charitable bequests, that is entitled to the serious 
 attention of the Christian reader. 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 185 
 
 ounrlit to be set apart for benevolent purposes is 
 more clear to any disinterested, consistent Chris- 
 tian, than it is to tlie testator himself. 
 
 Have you not reason to suspect that such is 
 ilie fact in relation to yourself? Does not your 
 present parsimony towards the objects of Chris- 
 tian benevolence justify the fear, that the amount 
 which you have devised for such purposes, is 
 most disproportionately small ? And yet, small 
 as it is, it is your will. In discharging your 
 testamentary duties, you naturally remember 
 those persons and objects whicli hold the dearest 
 place in your aftections ; — your supreme friend 
 is Christ, and yet, that he should be put off with 
 that insulting pittance, is your will. You 
 make your testamentary arrangements in the 
 prospect of leaving, what you properly designate, 
 a world of misery; much more of your property 
 might be left to the alleviation of that misery, 
 but that it shall not be so appropriated is your 
 WILL. You make those arrangements in the 
 prospect of being received into perfect blessed- 
 ness: you entertain the hope that while survivors 
 are inspecting, for the first time, the distribution 
 which you have made of your property, your 
 emancipated spirit will be enjoying the happiness 
 of the just made perfect — but that next to none 
 of that hap|)iness shall arise from the right em- 
 ployment of that property, is your will. 
 
 This robbery of the Christian cause, remem- 
 ber, is your will; — not a mere passing thought, 
 not a precipitate, unconsidered act ; but an act 
 which you formally preface with saying, that you 
 
186 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 perform it " being in sound mind," — in a word, 
 it is tlie deliberate act of that sovereign part of 
 your nature, your will. After having defraud- 
 ed the cause of Christ of your property during 
 life, you take the most effective measures to per- 
 petuate the fraud after death ; and you do this 
 with the full consent of all the powers of your 
 mind — you impress it with the sovereign seal of 
 your WILL. Yes, this is your will, which you 
 are content to have for a dying pillow, and on 
 which you propose to rest your tlying head ! 
 Your will — and therefore a part of your ^repara- 
 tionfor death ! Your ivill — avowedly prepared, 
 (monstrous inconsistency !) that the subject of 
 your property may not disturb you in death ! that 
 you may be able to think of it with peace ! Your 
 will — made, partly, as a preparation for the 
 awful moment when it shall be said to you, 
 **Give an account of thy stewardship ; " made 
 on the way to that judgment-seat, where one of 
 the first inquiries will relate to the use which you 
 have made of your various talents ! Christian 
 professor, be entreated. What your death-bed 
 would have been had your attention never been 
 called to this subject, it is not for man to sur- 
 mise ; but should you allow your will to remain 
 unaltered, now that your conscience has been 
 admonished, do not wonder if you find your 
 dying pillow to be filled with thorns. Retrieve, 
 at once, your guilty error, by augmenting your 
 bequests to the cause of mercy ; or, better still, 
 become your own executor, and enjoy at once 
 the luxury of doing good ; or, last of all, do both 
 — if the nature of your property permit, do both. 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 187 
 
 It is impossible to look at the existing state of 
 the finance of the Redeemer's empire, without 
 perceiving that tlie entire st/stcni of Christian 
 cliarity requires revision. Here and there an 
 individual is to be found, who appears to be 
 economizing his resources and employing them 
 for God : but the very admiration in which such 
 an one is held in his circle, implies, that he 
 stands there alone. The light of a Reynolds, a 
 Thornton, a Broadley Wilson, an unostentatious 
 L — , shines so conspicuously on account of the 
 surrounding darkness. In every section of the 
 Christian church, a spirit of self-denying benev- 
 olence is the exception, and a spirit of worldly 
 self-indulgence which leaves little for God, is 
 the rule. Nor can a thoughtful Christian reflect 
 on the growing necessities of the kingdom of 
 Christ, and the imploring attitude of the heathen 
 world, and then remember how insignificant a 
 proportion of the vast pecuniary resources of the 
 Christian church is at present appropriated to 
 the demands of that kingdom and the salvation 
 of that world, to say nothing of the difficulty with 
 which even that little is obtained, without feeling 
 that among the revolutions which must precede 
 the universal reign of Christ, one must be, arev- 
 olution in the economy of Christian benevolence. 
 
 It is a subject deserving the most serious con- 
 sideration of the Christian church, — how much 
 its comparative want of success in attempting 
 to enlarge the empire of Christ, is to be ascribed 
 to its prevailing covetousness. How incalculably 
 greater the success of the Christian enterprise 
 17 
 
188 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 might have been, had we only acted up to our 
 conviction of Christian liberality! What could 
 have stood before a spirit which evinced a readi- 
 ness to give up all for Christ ? The world would 
 have beheld in such conduct an argument for 
 the reality and power of the gospel which it could 
 not misunderstand, could not gainsay. "God, 
 even our own God, would have blessed us " — 
 would have gloried to own such a people, and to 
 have distinguished us with his blessing before 
 the eyes of the world — " God would have blessed 
 us ; " and, as a consequence, " all the ends of 
 the earth would have feared him." 
 
 What would have been the history of the 
 primitive Christians, had they been cursed with 
 the love of money as the Christians of the present 
 day are ? Taking into the account their deep 
 poverty, and the absence of all the present facil- 
 ities for prosecuting their aggressive designs, a 
 very small circle would have bounded the extent 
 of their labors, and a single page have sufficed 
 for the history of their exploits. But, feeling 
 the momentous nature of the object in which 
 they were embarked, that the salvation or perdi- 
 tion of the world depended instrumentally on 
 their conduct, they laid aside every vVeight, cast 
 their all into the treasury of benevolence, and 
 held themselves free and ready to do their Lord's 
 behests, — and he caused them to triumph in ev- 
 ery place. 
 
 We are professedly treading in their steps. 
 We have received from them the standard of the 
 cross, and are carrying it forward against the 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBEllALITY. 189 
 
 common foe. But, though avowedly warring 
 vith llie world, have we not taken a wedge of 
 gold, and hidden it in the camp 1 If the pres- 
 ence of one Achan was sufficient to account for 
 tlie discomfiture of Israel, can we be surprised 
 at tlie limited nature of our success, when every 
 tribe of our Ciiristian Israel has its Achan, and 
 almost every tent its " accursea 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 mat- 
 ters of course, become 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 suspicions of a large 
 proportion of his fellow-professors ? The spirit 
 of primitive liberality has so far departed /rom 
 the church, that they would eye him with an 
 astonishment which would prove that, if sympa- 
 thy be necessary to com|)rehend his conduct, 
 they must remain in guilty ignorance. Is there 
 not reason to conclude, that many a noble offer- 
 ing lias been lost to the cause of Christ, and 
 many an incipient impulse of benevolence re- 
 pressed, through a dread of that singularity 
 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 so few generous persons to stimulate 
 others by their example ; and because (it might 
 
190 EXCUSES OP COVETOUSNESS 
 
 have been added) they dreaded the charge of 
 singularity, or ostentation, to which their hberal- 
 ity would have exposed them. And if many a 
 human gift has been lost to the cause 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 1 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 inca- 
 pacitated itself for achieving great things. There 
 is no necessity for supposing an arbitrary with- 
 holdment 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 endeavors, would 
 discountenance such an idea ; for that success 
 has been granted to the full amount of its labors. 
 It is the limitation of its labors and sacrifices 
 alone, which has restricted its usefulness; and 
 the reason of that restriction is to be found in 
 its selfishness. What Bacon says of the influ- 
 ence of riches on virtue, may be adapted and 
 applied, in the most extensive sense, to their in- 
 fluence on the spirit of the 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 some- 
 times loseth or disturbeth the victory. 
 
 And the variety of ways in which it operates 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 191 
 
 \o this effect, mi^lit supply us with an answer to 
 tliose who may fancy that we are ascribing too 
 much to the influence of wealth, and overlooking 
 other important considerations. It is precisely 
 owing to its influence on those other important 
 things — especially, on the spirit 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 Chris- 
 tian 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 im- 
 pel him to lay himself out for that blessed Sa- 
 vior 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 selfishness has partially blinded the 
 Christian to the sight of the cross. It only al- 
 lows him to see it as in a mist ; and so complete- 
 ly 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 j;rofessors, 
 whether during those rare moments wiien they 
 have caught a glimpse of that self-dedication 
 to Christ, which he claims at their hands, a 
 17* 
 
192 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 perception at the same time of the sacrifices and 
 self-denial to which that consecration of them- 
 selves would necessarily lead, has not been suf- 
 ficient to make that sight of his claims unwel- 
 come, and induced them to turn their attention 
 in another direction ? Thus the spirit we are 
 deprecating, proves itself to be still entitled to 
 the bad pre-eminence assigned to it by the Apos- 
 tle — it is " the root of all evil." Like the drunk- 
 enness which the Demon is said to have 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 only robs the 
 cause of Christ of the liberality of his followers, 
 but also of their prayers and cordial dedication. 
 But at the same time that this spirit disqualifies 
 his people for extensive usefulness, it places the 
 great Head of the church himself under a moral 
 restraint from employing and blessing them. A 
 covetous community ! — how can he consistently 
 employ such to convert the world ; especially, 
 too, as that conversion includes a turning from 
 covetousness ? Not, indeed, that his cause is 
 necessarily dependent for success on our liberal- 
 ity ; and, perhaps, when his people shall be so 
 far constrained by his love as to place their prop- 
 erty at his disposal, he may most convincingly 
 show them that he has never been dependent 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 antithesis of selfishness, 
 infinite benevolence 1 He regulates those means 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 193 
 
 by laws ; and one of those laws is, that " from 
 him that hath not sliall he taken away even tliat 
 which he hath ; " that he not only will employ 
 the covetous, but will deprive him of that which 
 he guiltily withholds from his service. 
 
 We pray for the cominj:: of the kingdom of 
 Christ ; and wonder, at times, that our heartless, 
 disunited, inconsistent prayers are not more suc- 
 cessful. But what do we expect? Let it be 
 supposed that a convocation of all the Christians 
 upon earth should be held, to implore the con- 
 version of the world. How justly might an an- 
 cient 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 your Al- 
 mighty Lord erect Iiis kingdom by miracle ; or, 
 you might have warrantably come to his throne 
 to implore the mean-s necessary for 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 cof- 
 fers, 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 ye, to dwell 
 in your ceiled houses, and this house to lie waste 1 
 Now, therefore, thus saith the Lord, consider 
 your ways.' Look abroad over your assembled 
 myriads ; calculate the immense resources of 
 wealth placed at your disposal ; imagine that 
 
194 EXCUSES OP COVETOUSNESS 
 
 you were to be seized with a noble generosity, 
 like that which at different 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 curse ; for ye have rob- 
 bed 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 here- 
 with, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open 
 the windows of heaven and pour you out a bless- 
 ing, that there shall not be room enough to re- 
 ceive it.' Make this consecration of your sub- 
 stance 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; ' and to pour 
 upon his church a spirit of Christian liberality. 
 Till then, ask only, and, in common consistency, 
 expect only, that he will bless you to the amount 
 of your sacrifices for his cause. What he may 
 choose to do more, by an exercise of his sove- 
 reignty, 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 ? would not con- 
 fusion cover us ? 
 
 It is recorded, to the high honor of certain an- 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 195 
 
 cient believers, that " God Avas not ashamed to 
 be called their God." And the reason assigned 
 is, that, instead of coveting earthly possessions, 
 or seeking their happiness 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 heav- 
 enly." 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 ; he could point the 
 attention of the world to them with divine com- 
 placency ; he could 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 1 His spirituality 
 — could the world infer that from any remarka- 
 ble abstraction from earth apparent in their con- 
 duct ? or is there any thing in the manner and 
 extent of their liberality which would remind the 
 world of Iiis 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 poverty might be rich; 
 — but from what part of their conduct 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 boundless beneficence. His character is 
 falsified by them in the eyes of the world. Nor 
 
196 
 
 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS 
 
 could he honor them in any distinguished man- 
 ner before the world, without endorsing and con- 
 firming that falsification of his character. He is 
 yearning for the happiness of the perishing 
 world ; but such is his divine plan, that he has 
 only the instrumentality of his church to work 
 by, and that is so steeped in the spirit of selfish- 
 ness, that his grace is held under restraint. 
 
 And even the limited degree in which their 
 selfishness has allowed him to ble-ss their agency 
 in his cause, begins to be found inconvenient to 
 that selfishness. For, what is the most frequent 
 complaint of those who are deputed to manage 
 that agency : not that God is withholding his 
 blessing from their proceedings ; but that, 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 
 1 • • 
 
 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 ; a cheap and unexpen- 
 sive success, which should support itself, and 
 which should leave our spirit of cupidity untax- 
 ed and undisturbed. We have now, however, 
 begun to discover that success itself, of a certain 
 description, may be attended with the most se- 
 rious inconveniences — inconveniences, that is, 
 
FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 197 
 
 to selfish Christians ; that we need, in connec- 
 tion with success, a divine preparation to receive, 
 and improve, and enjoy it. Yes, we feel per- 
 suaded, that we must have, 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 ful- 
 filled, 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 icliflTusion of the 
 gospel, which have not yet been imagined ; 
 that efforts and sacrifices will yet be made on so 
 gigantic a scale, as to throw the puny doings of 
 the present day completely into the shade. 
 
PART THE THIRD. 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED AND ENFORCED. 
 
 18 
 
SECTION I. 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 To assert that the cause of Christian liberality 
 exhibits no signs of improvement, would only 
 evince insensibility to obvious facts, and ingrati- 
 tude to the great Head of the church. Even 
 the feeling which has called for "an essay, bear- 
 ing upon selfishness as it leads us to live to our- 
 selves, 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 neces- 
 sity of increased liberality to the cause of God ; 
 the growing conviction of the church, that, com- 
 pared with what will be done, we are at present 
 doing nothing ; the approbation with which every 
 new expedient for augmenting the funds of be- 
 nevolence is hailed ; the streams which appear 
 in almost every new channel of mercy as soon as 
 it is opened ; and the increase of funds which 
 our great benevolent institutions have almost 
 
202 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 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 the circumstances are, it must 
 be remembered that they are little more than 
 indications of improvement. All the great de- 
 fects in the charity of the Christian church re- 
 main, with very slight modifications. It is still 
 adapted to a former state of comparative inac- 
 tivity, rather than to the present period of Chris- 
 tian enterprise. It waits for impulses and ap- 
 peals. It wants calculation, proportion, and self- 
 denial. It does not keep pace with the growing 
 demands of the kingdom of Christ. It wants 
 principle and plan. The great current of Chris- 
 tian property is as yet undiverted from its worldly 
 channel. The scanty rills of charity, which at 
 present water the garden of the Lord, and the 
 ingenuity and effort employed to bring them 
 there, compared with the almost undiminished 
 tide of selfish expenditure which still holds on 
 its original course, remind one of the slender riv- 
 ulets which the inhabitants of the east raise from 
 a river by mechanical 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 and dissipated by artificial 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 203 
 
 wants and worldly compliances, without deplor- 
 ing that the art of wasting it by the most expe- 
 ditions methods, should exhibit, as it does, the 
 finish and completeness of a system. The art of 
 iisino it, so as to make it produce the greatest 
 measure of happiness, still remains to be prac- 
 tised. 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 property, and making it im- 
 mortal, was not only known but practised ; but, 
 like the process of another embalming, 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 be- 
 nevolence has never been unknown as a theory, 
 the perverting influence of a worldly spirit has 
 been rendering it more and more impracticable 
 as an art. So that now, when the obvious appli- 
 cation of its principles is pointed out, and the 
 necessity for carrying those principles into prac- 
 tice 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 sub- 
 ject. This, of itself, would be gaining an im- 
 portant step. It would be proclaiming a wide 
 18* 
 
204 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 secession from the world ; for, while the ungodly 
 act and feel as if their property were 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 un- 
 reflecting Christian, who is content with appear- 
 ances and professions, no doubt imagines that 
 this distinction between the church and the 
 world exists already. Because he has heard, 
 until the sound has become familiar, that all we 
 have and are belongs to God, and has never 
 heard the proposition contradicted, he fancies 
 that, on this point, all is well. But it is precise- 
 ly because Christians generally have practically 
 repealed this principle, and trampled it under 
 foot, that the spirit of benevolence has almost 
 been lost from the chureh. While the practical 
 recognition of this single principle, simple as it 
 is, familiar and admitted as it is in words, would 
 of itself 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 towards the 
 new equator, the most solid parts of the globe 
 give way, and the earth assume an aspect entire- 
 ly new. The solitary principle, thatwehold our 
 property as subordinate agents for God, were it 
 only felt, embraced, allowed to have unobstruct- 
 ed operation in our practice, would, of itself, be 
 sufficient to break up the present system of self- 
 ishness, and to give an entirely new aspect to 
 the cause of benevolence. 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 205 
 
 Let the Christian reader, then, seek to have 
 this principle \vrought into his mind as an ever- 
 present conviction. Let the recollection of his 
 property, and the idea of God as its supreme 
 Owner, stand together in his mind in close and 
 constant union. Let him remember that the 
 supreme Proprietorship of his property is in the 
 hands of God as really as the salvation of his 
 soul is; and that the will of God is law here, as 
 much as in the more spiritual domain of faith. 
 What would his conduct be, had he been left 
 the executor of that property by a wealthy 
 friend ? Would he not have been frequently 
 recurring to the ivill of the testator, that he might 
 not misapply the least fraction? His supreme 
 Friend has given him the use of certain property, 
 accompanying the grant with a specification of 
 his will concerning its application. Nothing 
 but an humble, grateful, obedient heart is neces- 
 sary in studying that will, in order to find that 
 it descends to rules, limitations, and directions 
 of the most clear and minute description. And 
 it is only by keeping these requirements con- 
 stantly open before him, and returning to study 
 them daily in that spirit, that the Christian can 
 escape the danger of appropriating and misap- 
 plying that which belongs to his Lord and 
 Master. 
 
 In the scheme of evangelical charity, thepnre- 
 ciplc which actuates the giver is of paramount 
 importance. '* He that giveth, let him do it 
 with simplicity." The gospel rejects alike the 
 tax which is reluctantly paid by fear, the bribe 
 
206 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 which is given to silence importunity, the sacri- 
 fice vvhicli is offered to a vain ostentation, and 
 the price which is intended to purchase a place 
 in the divine favor, or as a ground of justification 
 before God. The only offering which it accepts 
 is that which originates in a principle of love 
 and obedience to Christ, and which hopes and 
 asks for divine acceptance 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, for your sakes he became poor, that ye 
 through his poverty might be rich." And hav- 
 ing made its appeal at the cross, having provided 
 and plied him with the grand motive of redeem- 
 ing 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 gen- 
 erosity may act the donor with all the prompti- 
 tude and easy grace of Charity herself. But 
 *' though I bestow all my goods to feed the 
 poor, . . . and have not charity, it profiteth me 
 nothing." The absence of evangelical love is 
 the want of the incense which alone could im- 
 part to the sacrifice a sweet-smelling savor unto 
 God. And while 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 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 207 
 
 a sacramental symbol ; for it is given " in re- 
 membrance of Christ.'' Suspended from the 
 throne of lieaven, it transmutes the least gift that 
 may be hung on it into a jewel destined to aug- 
 ment the glory of him on whose head are " many 
 crowns." 
 
 Tiiat which constitutes the superiority of 
 evangelical piety, as a self-propagating and dif- 
 fusive system, to every form of false and hetero- 
 dox religion is, that it has for its great actuating 
 principle the love of Christ. This is " the seed 
 in itself;" the leaven which shall never cease 
 to ferment till it has leavened the entire mass of 
 humanity. Hence, every thing which would ob- 
 tain acceptance with God must exhibit marks of 
 the assimilating and sanctifying power of this 
 principle. Nay, every thing which would find 
 favor in the eyes of the Christian himself, even 
 his own acts and offerings of charity, nmst bear 
 evident relation to Christ, or receive the con- 
 demnation of liis own grateful heart. In the 
 exercise of a holy jealousy for his blessed Lord, 
 he is led to scrutinize his motives, to trace his 
 benevolence 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 spir- 
 itual and improving duties the Christian can per- 
 form. For, by imbuing his heart with the love 
 of God, it enables him to taste the godlike en- 
 joyment of doing good ; and, by teaching him 
 
208 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 to refer all his acts of benevolence to Christ, to 
 perform them as expressions of gratilude to him, 
 to hope for their acceptance through him, and 
 to pray that they may tend to his glory, it keeps 
 him near to the cross, in an atmospnere of spir- 
 itual and elevated piety. And when once he 
 has become native to the element, when the ex- 
 pansive, delightful, irresistible power of the Sa- 
 vior's grace has become his ruling motive, he 
 would feel an inferior principle to be little less 
 than degradation and bondage. He accounts 
 the costliest sacrifice he can offer as poor; re- 
 sents the limits which a cold and calculating self- 
 ishness 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 constraineth us." 
 
 In order that our benevolence may become a 
 valuable habit, it must he provided ivith regular 
 resources. Nothing good or great can be effect- 
 ed without p/a?i. In their own worldly business, 
 men perceive the importance of method ; and, if 
 they would render their liberality efficient, they 
 must adopt a system for that also. On this sub- 
 ject 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 ; 
 
CIiniSTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 209 
 
 that is, upon a deliberate comparison of our for- 
 tunes with tlie reasonable expenses and expecta- 
 tions of our fiimilies, to compute what we can 
 spare, and to lay by so much for charitable pur- 
 poses." 
 
 To take, indeed, a weekit/ 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 pros- 
 pered us. Owing to the want of a plan like this, 
 the cause of Christ is often an unwelcome and 
 an unsuccessful applicant ; selfishness, which 
 has always the advantage of being able to be the 
 first claimant, squanders in superfluities what 
 conscience would have devoted to God ; and 
 many, it is to be feared, from not having where- 
 with to answer the calls and impulses of charity, 
 as they arose in the heart, have at length lost 
 the very disposition to do good. While the ad- 
 vantages arising from the adoption of such an 
 arrangement are numerous, we are under less 
 temptation to withhold our charity; our duty is 
 made more convenient by rendering it thus in 
 easy instalments ; 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 reg- 
 ularly recognised in our worldly affairs ; his 
 presence 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 account of our gains ; our offerings are pre- 
 sented with cheerfulness, because they come 
 
210 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 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 claim- 
 ant, a divine creditor, 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 suc- 
 cessful, must be conducted on system ; and why 
 should not the book which records the occasional 
 and the regular contributions of charity be kept 
 and inspected as carefully as the leger of trade ? 
 Covetousness plans for selfish purposes ; and 
 why should not benevolence counter-plan, and 
 organize its resources for objects of divine philan- 
 thropy 1 Political economy plans for national 
 purposes ; and why should there not be an ec- 
 clesiastical economy to systematize its resources 
 of that kingdom which is not of this world 1 
 We desire not a revival of sumptuary laws to re- 
 strain extravagance in diet and dress, but a tax 
 self-levied on all the luxuries and indulgencies 
 of life. We ask not for an inquisitorial Roman 
 census, but for a conscientious assessment of all 
 the property of the Christian church, so scrupu- 
 lously made and regularly repeated, that, like 
 that ancient republic, we may have accurate re- 
 turns, from time to time, of all the statistics of the 
 Christian empire, and may know our resources 
 for war with the kingdom of darkness. 
 
 But what proportion of our income ought we 
 to devote to charitable uses ? If Christian love 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 211 
 
 be permitted to answer this question, and assign 
 tlie amount, there is no reason to fear a too 
 scanty allowance. On the other hand, if self- 
 ishness 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 hoic much 1 
 to be determined by themselves. In assisting 
 them to till up the blank with the proper assess- 
 ment, 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, ** How 
 much owest thou unto thy Lord ? " " 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-offering." 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 worldling looks on justice as the only claim- 
 ant on his property, and concludes that when 
 that is satiijfied, he may warrantably sacrifice 
 the whole remainder to himself, the Christian 
 views it only as a preparation for sacrificing to 
 God. 
 
 19 
 
212 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 It is observable that Abraham and Jacob, on 
 particular occasions, voluntarily devoted to God 
 — what afterwards became a divine law for the 
 Jewish nation, — a tenth of their property. With- 
 out implying that their example has any obliga- 
 tion on us, we may venture 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; 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 more than all their 
 brethren. 
 
 But, in determining the proportion to be 
 made sacred to God, the Chirstian would surely 
 rather exceed than fall short of the exact amount. 
 With whom is he stipulating ? For whom is he 
 preparing the offering 1 Well may the recollec- 
 tion put every covetous thought to instant flight ; 
 tinging his cheek with shame at the bare possi- 
 bility 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 accept- 
 ance. When Christ is the object to be honored, 
 the affection of the pardoned penitent cannot 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 213 
 
 top to calculate the value of its alabaster box of 
 j)recious ointment — that is an act to wliich only 
 a Judas can sloop — its chief and sole regret is 
 that the unction has not a richer perfume, and a 
 higiier value. When a Zaccheus finds himself 
 standing, a sinner saved by grace, in the pres- 
 ence of the Being who has saved him, he ex- 
 claims, *' Behold, Lord, the half o^ my 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 i[i furnishing him 
 with an offering of love to Christ. What things 
 ivcrc 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 be- 
 fore him empty. It was one of the divine enact- 
 ments even of the legal dispensation, — Nojie 
 shall come before me empty. But that which was 
 matter of law with the Israelite, the Christian 
 will seize as a golden opportunity for evincing 
 his love to Christ ; and will bring, though it be 
 only a grain of incense for an ottering, 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 benev- 
 olent widow; and, while others content them- 
 selves with only admiring it, he will often reilect 
 on its imitableness. jNor will the language of 
 
214 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 the apostle be ever heard by him but as an ad- 
 dress to himself, — *' Let him labor, working with 
 his hand 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 laboring ye ought to sup- 
 port 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 
 sentiments, 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 he feels himself impelled to place 
 some offering on the altar of Christian benevo- 
 lence ; and, with the ready eye and hand of af- 
 fection, he soon detects, 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, or of the sweat of his brow, is pre- 
 sented, nothing could inflict on his grateful heart 
 a deeper wound than to see that offering reject- 
 ed on the ground of its comparative insignifi- 
 cance, or of his supposed inability to give it. 
 It is the offering of a sinner's gratitude to a Sa- 
 vior's love, and Heaven rejoices over the ob- 
 lation. 
 
 A well-digested scheme of charity will be 
 considerate in the selection of its objects. The 
 benevolence which has not prudence for its al- 
 moner, may create the evils which it meant to 
 destroy. 
 
CHRISTIAN I.IBERALTTY EXPLAINED. 215 
 
 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 candi- 
 date 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 
 institutions of that day could have been foretold 
 of the number, the magnitude, and the revenues 
 of the great evangelical societies which at pres- 
 ent adorn our land, he might surely have been 
 excused for fearing that the objects of his re- 
 gard would in consequence be displaced and for- 
 gotten. But the event has shown that his fears 
 would have been unfounded. Experience de- 
 monstrates that the heart which responds to the 
 cries of a world peri.shing through lack of knowl- 
 edge, 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 amonff the most 
 19* 
 
216 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 active agents of patriotic and local charities ; 
 that genuine Christian charity, while it leaves 
 no object unattempted on account of its vastness, 
 overlooks none on account of its minuteness. 
 Copying, in this respect, the example of Him 
 who on 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 institu- 
 tions 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 sources of the Christian phi- 
 lanthropist, compared with the number and di- 
 versity of the ol3Jects 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 affliction ; and, on the other, he must not 
 limit his attentions to the wants of the life that 
 now is, and remain an uninterested spectator of 
 the efforts which are made around him to save a 
 world from perdition. The two classes of ob- 
 jects should be combined in his regards. By 
 descending to the one class, he will be keeping 
 his benevolent feelings in a healthy, active, vig- 
 orous state; and by ascending to the other, he 
 will be giving them scope and expansion, diffu- 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 217 
 
 sing and multiplying tliem over tlic whole field 
 of mercy. By a wise distribution of his means, 
 he may connect himself with all the objects of 
 beneficence, from the casual relief of the mendi- 
 cant, to the combined, systematic and mighty 
 project of the Christian church to make the Bi- 
 ble the book of the world. And as he marks 
 the graduated scale of Christian charities which 
 stands between these tvo extremes, he will con- 
 scientiously consider which are the charities that 
 call for his especial ^^^) ^"^ ^^e pjoportion. of 
 support which each demands. 
 
 But who^oes not feel that the era of effective 
 Christia"* benevolence has yet to commence ? 
 Let him sketch the most simple scheme of benev- 
 olence which the gospel can approve, and he 
 wil/ perceive at every step that he is writing the 
 condemnation of the church. Compared with 
 the time, indeed, when next to nothing was con- 
 tributed to the cause of Christ, we may now be 
 paid to give much ; but. compared with what 
 ought to be, and with what we are persuaded 
 icill be, consecrated to God, we are still contrib- 
 uting 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 eradicat- 
 ed ; 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 evident application of many 
 
218 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 plain passages of Scripture to be made ; doctrines 
 startling to selfishness to become familiar and 
 welcome ; sentiments already familiar to be en- 
 larged and practically applied ; the word benevo- 
 lence itself to be differently understood ; the 
 demon of covetousness to be cast out of the 
 church ; and vhe 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 on ? JProphecy is full of 
 it. As often almost as she opens her lips on 
 the subject of Messiah's reign, the consecration 
 of the world's wealth forms part of v.er song. 
 " To him shall be given of the gold of b'neba." 
 *' 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 has robbed him 
 of his glory, and which in so many idolatrous 
 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 in- 
 cense before him. It will then be felt that the 
 highest use to which wealth can be appHed is to 
 employ it for God : that is the only way to dig- 
 pify that which is intrinsically mean ; to turn that 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 219 
 
 whicli is perishinjT into unfading crowns and 
 iinperij^Iiable wealth. As if the image and su- 
 perscription of Christ instead of Caesar — as if the 
 l)aIlowed 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 wed- 
 ding his church, it shall then be felt that he 
 wedded her wealth also ; and, 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 classification will have obtained. 
 There will be no one in the church who gives 
 nothing; his place will be occupied 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 hon- 
 orable 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 synony- 
 mous with benevolence, 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 
 savings of self-denial besidec, will be honored as 
 truly charitable. 
 
220 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 The Christian will then look on himself in 
 the light of a channel between God and his fel- 
 low-creatures — a channel prepared expressly for 
 receiving and conveying the overflowings of the 
 Fountain of goodness to those around him ; and 
 accordingly he will be " ready to distribute, wil- 
 ling 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 be- 
 nevolence of his brethren 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 spend- 
 ing it most advantageously 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 subser- 
 viency to that cause consists its chief value ; that 
 they should labor with their hands, rather than 
 be destitute of the means of giving. He will 
 make it an indispensable object of their educa- 
 tion to render them proficients in the art of em- 
 ploying 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 abun- 
 dant outpouring of the spirit of Christian Iberality 
 and dedication ; and the very feeling which im- 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 221 
 
 pelled him to utter the |)etition, 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 to 
 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 mo- 
 tion 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 elHcacious blessing upon the whole. 
 Having put all human agency in requisition, he 
 would labor and wrestle in prayer to engage 
 the infinite love and power of God. 
 
 lie will receive every accredited 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, " I 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 1 My cause is languish- 
 ing for want of support, will you not aid it 1 " — 
 he will hasten to bring forth his all, and say, 
 "O Lord my God, all this store cometh of thine 
 hand, and all is thine own." Li doing this, in- 
 deed, 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 j}wrc than admired by his church, 
 yet who could imitate it at present without in- 
 curring, not from the world onlv, bjJt from the 
 
222 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 great majority of Christian professors also, the 
 blame of great improvidence ? But, then, her 
 conduct shall be regarded as exemplary ; and the 
 Savior 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 lib- 
 erality, to prevent his giving more than the stip- 
 ulated sum, though there are times when his be- 
 nevolent 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 impulses of 
 an unrestricted benevolence. Now, he is too 
 often disposed to shun the applications for char- 
 ity, and, if he is overlooked and passed by, to 
 view it as a fortunate escape; but 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 ; like the Macedonian 
 Christians of whom the apostle testifies, " I bear 
 them record that to their power, yea, and beyond 
 their power, they were willing of themselves." 
 Instead of being charitable only on comparative 
 distraint, he will often anticipate application, 
 and surprise the agents of beneficence by unex- 
 pected gifts ; thus strengthening their faith in 
 God, and inciting them to enlarge their designs 
 for the kingdom of Christ, like the same believ- 
 ers of whom the apostle records, that, instead of 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 223 
 
 needing to be solicited, they entreated liimto ac- 
 cept tlieir contributions — '* pf'^iyi'ig us with much 
 entreaty to accept the gift." Like the happy parent 
 of a happy family, lie will hail every new-born 
 claim on his resources, and cheerfully deny him- 
 self 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 tiiat 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 sup- 
 port of the Christian interest that its friends 
 should live in a state of comfortless self-denial. 
 'V\\G prevalence of the benevolent spirit will ren- 
 der 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 subsist- 
 ence. When every fresh convert to Christ be- 
 comes a willing supporter of his interest, the 
 accession of numbers will increase its supplies 
 more rapidly than its wants. 
 
 O, hai)py 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 
 a sense, be ceded to Christ; "the God of the whole 
 earth shall he be called ; " and "every one shall 
 20 
 
224 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 
 
 submit themselves unto him wilh pieces of silver." 
 i/e shall be considered the wise man, not who 
 keeps most, but gives most to God ; and the hap- 
 piness of bestowing shall be rated above the 
 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 practice of which is 
 necessary to conduct them to heaven. The liv- 
 ing 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 interkst in which the af- 
 fluent will invest their abundance, and in which 
 the poor will deposit their iniie, assured that it 
 will thus augment to a treasure exceeding their 
 powers of computation. And wealth, the per- 
 nicious influence of which some of the wisest of 
 men have feared so much that they have prohib- 
 ited the use of it by law, — wealth, the great em- 
 broiler and corrupter of the world, will be em- 
 ployed 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. 
 
SECTION II 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED, 
 
 And why should the dehghtful period to which 
 we have adverted, wlien tlie gospel theory of 
 Christian henevolence shall be realized, be 
 d«^e!ned 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 in- 
 citements to benevolence will be furnished from 
 lieaven. Tiie 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 (he tender and weiglity contjid- 
 erations by which they are enforced fdl him with 
 generous and grateful purposes, such as he never 
 felt before ; and may God, the Holy Spirit, the 
 
226 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 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 inquiry, 
 Christian reader, will naturally respect the will 
 of God. Before listening to any other considera- 
 tion, 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 clear- 
 ly or fully revealed his will, than on the duty of 
 Christian liberality. 
 
 Think o'l the right ivhich he has in all you pos- 
 sess. There is a sense in which no man can be 
 said to possess an exclusive and irresponsible 
 right in property, even in relation to his fellow- 
 creatures. The land which he calls his oimi, is 
 still guarded and watched over by a public law, 
 which would hold him responsible for its de- 
 struction. But if man thus claims a common in- 
 terest 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 prop- 
 erty 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 ? 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBFRAT.ITY ENFORCED. 227 
 
 ** Tliou 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, " INIy power, and the might of 
 mine own hand, hath gotten me this wealth," 
 lest you should fall into the consequent sin of 
 forgetting that he is still the supreme Proprietor 
 of all you possess. And hence too he solemnly 
 reminds you that your enjoyments are his gifts, 
 only in the sense that you had nothing wherewith 
 to purchase them, and not in the sense that he 
 has given away his right in them : 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 
 seemeth good in his sight. 
 
 The moment you lose sight, therefore, of his 
 absolute right to all you possess, you are em- 
 bezzling your Lord's property, and realizing the 
 character of the unjust steward. You are pro- 
 voking God to resume his own, and to transfer it 
 to more faithful hands. Whereas he looks to 
 you to assert his dominion in the ip.idstof an un- 
 grateful 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 
 laboring to forget him ; that while thci/ are sul- 
 lenly and impiously appropriating every thing to 
 themselves, as if he had ceased to reign and even 
 to exist, you might continually consecrate and 
 offer up your substance before their eyes as an 
 oblation to his irlory, and thus daily vindicate his 
 20* 
 
228 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 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 
 intended to condemn. Surely you will not be- 
 tray your Lord, and enable his enemies to tri- 
 umph. Then hasten to his throne and acknowl- 
 edge his right. Take all that you have into his 
 presence, and dedicate it afresh to his service. 
 Inscribe his blessed name on all your posses- 
 sions. 
 
 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 ? *' He daily 
 loadeth you with his benefits ; " and will you 
 bear them all away from his presence to con- 
 sume them upon yourself? will you distribute 
 none of the precious load among the numerous 
 applicants he has placed around you ] " He 
 croivncth 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 yourself? will you not proclaim and 
 honor the royalty of your descent by humbly 
 imitating his regal munificence and grace 1 He 
 has placed you in a world of which his own de- 
 scription is, that it is full of his 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- 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 229 
 
 encompassing air — the unconfined plenitude of 
 tlie li«;ht — all conspire to attest the infinite ex- 
 uherance of his bounty, and to surcharge your 
 heart with corresponding sentiments of goodness. 
 To be selfish in such a world, is one of the great- 
 est triumphs of sin. Covetousness cannot move 
 in it without being rebuked at every 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 1 Could you 
 speedily indulge in selfishness in a world which 
 you found supported by charity ? and by charity 
 so abundant that the divine Donor seems to 
 have aimed to make the sin impossible 1 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 servant 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 gra- 
 cious God, an heir of his infinite goodness, and 
 yet retain a narrow, selfish, and contracted 
 mind 1 The Lord .Tesus himself calls on you to 
 be merciful even as your Father in heaven is 
 merciful. 
 
230 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 But hitherto we have been standing only on 
 the threshold of the temple of his goodness. 
 The great display, the " unspeakable g^i ft " re- 
 mains within. Your misery as a sinner had ex- 
 cited 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 50 loved the world, that he gave his only 
 begotten Son." " Herein is love ! " The uni- 
 verse 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; 
 we have no line with which to fathom, no stand- 
 ard with which to compare it; but he so loved us 
 that he sent his only begotten Son to be the pro- 
 pitiation for our sins. ** Herein is love ! " 
 " Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift." 
 
 And while you are standing in the presence of 
 this matchless display of love, " what doth the 
 Lord require of thee ? " For yourself, he in- 
 vites you to accept that love and be happy. 
 And in relation to your fellow-men, he only re- 
 quires 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. 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 231 
 
 Nor is tliis all : he invites you to advance 
 from the altar of sacrifice lo the holiest of all, 
 within the veil ; — in pther words, he hath given 
 you Christ, that he may give you himself. It 
 was by wandering from him that man first be- 
 came 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 sat- 
 isfy the soul, man sought to accumulate all 
 kinds, to monopolize every thing — he became 
 selfish. lie is dis[)osed to look on every thing 
 which another enjoys, as so much lost to him- 
 self — as so much takien away from what might 
 otherwise have fallen to his own share; and 
 thus he is selfish. But the blessed God, by 
 oflfering to bring you back again to himself, is 
 offering to make you independent 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 nerd not be selfish ; for were 
 all the universe to share and enjoy it with you, 
 it would still be an unexhausted infinite fulness 
 of ha|)i)iness. 
 
 jN'ow, lei the most miserly individual come 
 suddenly into the possession of great wealth, he 
 would l)e conscious, at least for a short lime, of 
 kind and generous emotions. What then should 
 be your emotions at discovering that, through 
 Christ, you have found a God? and think, ?r/(a^ 
 a God he is ! Enumerate his perfections ; call 
 
232 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 up in your mind his exalted attributes ; recollect 
 some of the displays of his glory, the splendors of 
 his throne, the amplitude of his dominions, 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 my God forever and ever." And, 
 then, think what it is to have him /or your God: 
 it is to have a real, participating, eternal inter- 
 est in all that he is ; to have him for your " all 
 in all;" to be "filled with all the fullness of 
 God." 
 
 Christian, are you aware of your wealth ? 
 have you yet awoke to a conscious possession of 
 your infinite wealth ? and is it possible that you 
 can still cleave to the poor and perishing dross 
 of earth? What, shall the accession of infinite 
 wealth make no difierence in your conduct 1 
 Will you be as covetous with a God as without ? 
 Do you not feel, 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 heart 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 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 233 
 
 gave away every thing, even life itself, in llie no- 
 ble employ, and from love lo liis name. 
 
 The obligations! which liis 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 ihey felt them less than their magnitude 
 would have warranted. For when their eman- 
 cipated spirits had ascended from the scene of 
 martyrdom to heaven — when they there awoke 
 to a clear |)erception of the hell tliey had escap- 
 ed, and 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 lor the first time. And is all that 
 weight of obligation at this moment resting upon 
 \joul 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 lor all his benefits'!" What sacrifices 
 can you devise costly enough to express your 
 sense of them ? Christian, could you have sup- 
 posed that your property would be accepted as 
 one of those sncrificcjs ? Had he not conde- 
 scended to invite the oftering, could you have 
 imagined that any amount or any employment 
 of earthly wealth, would have been accepted by 
 him? It is one of the lowest 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 small- 
 est fraction of that wealth as an expression of 
 your love to his name. Let this, then, dignify 
 
234 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 wealth in your eyes : value it henceforth on this 
 account, that the Lord will accept it at your 
 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 pre- 
 sent 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 obligations ; 
 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 
 cominands. He charges it upon you that you 
 "do good unto all men;" that you "put on 
 bowels of mercy ; " that you "abound" in the 
 grace of "liberality;" that you "be ready to 
 distribute, willing to communicate." And in 
 saying this, he is only commanding 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 in- 
 timate that it is a principal part of such righteous- 
 ness. Where the second table of the law is abridg- 
 ed, and its duties summed up in a few words, char- 
 ity is not only never omitted, but always takes the 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 235 
 
 lead. In all general descriptions of piety, the prac- 
 tice ot'this duty is specified as a chief element. It 
 is declared to be the most acceptable expression 
 of our love to God. The ciioicest 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 ob- 
 ligation, 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? In heaven, his will is the 
 only motive to obedience which is necessary. 
 And will you not rejoice in an occasion which 
 joins you with angels in " doing his command- 
 ments? " Hasten, then, to take your offering 
 before him : he is waiting 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 any of that portion away : rath- 
 er, add to it ; let him see that your love is not so 
 easily satisfied as is his law ; that your gratitude 
 goes beyond his command ; that were it possible 
 for his law to he repealed, the love which you 
 bear to his blessed name would still be a law 
 21 
 
236 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 constantly demanding fresh sacrifices for his 
 altar. 
 
 In its inculcations of beneficence, the Bible 
 appeals to a principle of loell-regulattd self inter- 
 est. Instead of taking it for granted that we 
 should be enamored of duty for its own sake 
 alone, our heavenly Father evinces the kindest 
 consideration of our fallen condition, by accom- 
 panying his commands with appropriate prom- 
 ises and blessings. He graciously allures us to 
 cultivate the tree of Christian charity, by engag- 
 ing that all its fruits shall be our own. " He who 
 soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully." 
 " God is not unrighteous, to forget your work 
 and labor of love." 
 
 The most marked interpositions and signal 
 blessings even oi earthly prosperity have attend- 
 ed 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 honored 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 recording 
 such instances to the glory of its Lord ! that we 
 should be so slow of heart to believe them when 
 they are recorded ! — for, what do they prove, 
 but only that God is not unrighteous to forget his 
 promises 1 — and that his people should give him 
 so little opportunity of illustrating his paternal 
 character by trusting their temporal affairs more 
 completely to his hands ! 
 
 Spiritual prosperity is inseparable from Chris- 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 237 
 
 tinn liberality. For " God lovetli a cheerful 
 giver ; and God is able to make all grace abound 
 towards you ; that ye, always having all suffi- 
 ciency in all things, may abound to every good 
 work." As often as you j)ractise this duty in 
 an evangelical spirit, you must be conscious that 
 the best part of your sanctified nature is called 
 into exercise ; your heart is partially discharged 
 of its remaining selfishness ; your mind is braced 
 more for Christian activity ; your sympathy caus- 
 es 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 
 property which he devotes to God is so much 
 treasure laid up in heaven, so much seed destin- 
 ed to fructify into a harvest of eternal enjoy- 
 ment. Christian, would you render your prop- 
 erty sf'curc ? place it in the haiid of omnipotent 
 Faithfulness. Retain it in your possession, 
 and it is the proper emblem of uncertainty; 
 but df-vote it to God, and from that moment it 
 is stamped with his immutability ; his providence 
 becomes your estate, and his word your un- 
 failing 'security. Would you enjoi/ your sub- 
 stance ? "Give alms of such things as you 
 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 
 
238 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 to all you possess. Like the first Christians you 
 will then eat your meat with gladness and sin- 
 gleness of heart. Would you increase your 
 property ? " Honor the Lord with your sub- 
 stance — 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 th >u 
 puttest thine hand unto." Sow your substance, 
 then, as seed in the hand of Christ, that hand 
 which fed the multitude with a morsel, and 
 which multiplies whatever it touches with its 
 own infinite bounty. Would you groio in grace 1 
 in love and likeness to Christ T Would you in- 
 crease with all the increase of God ? and abound 
 in the fruits of the Spirit ? " The liberal soul 
 shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be 
 watered also himself." Would you be rich for 
 eternity 1 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 own exuberant munificence, — he 
 promises to repay you a hundred-fold in the pres- 
 ent life, and in the world to come, life everlast- 
 ing. As much of your property as you have al- 
 ready devoted to him, however humbly you may 
 think of it, is regarded and watched over by 
 him as '' a good foundation laid up against the 
 time to come, that you may lay hold on eternal 
 life." And all that you may hereafter cast into 
 his treasury, shall certainly precede your arrival 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 239 
 
 in heaven, and there be converted for you into 
 incorruptible 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 rob- 
 bing the cause of God of its due, is defrauding 
 his ofi'spring 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 com- 
 mendations into the presence of God. His char- 
 acter is embalmed in its own piety. His name 
 passes with commendation through the lips of 
 God, and that gives it immortality. His benev- 
 olence resulted from the grace of God ; and, as 
 such, the honor of God is concerned in making 
 its memory inmiortal. 
 
 Would you acquire a right in your property? 
 a right wliich shall justify you in calling it your 
 own ? Bv withholding it from God, you are 
 21* 
 
240 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 forfeiting all interest in it, and laying yourself 
 open to the charge of embezzlement 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 solu- 
 tion of the epitaph of a charitable man, " What 
 I 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 pro- 
 moted ; — and what object should be of more 
 precious and abiding concern to the believer 
 than this ? ''The ministration 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 ministration they 
 glorify God for )'Our professed subjection unta 
 the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal distri- 
 bution unto them and to all men." The new- 
 born liberality of the first Christians for the sup- 
 port of their needy brethren threw the church 
 into a holy transport of delight. It was bringing^ 
 the benevolent power of Christianity to the test ; 
 and, as a masterpiece of human mechanism, 
 when tried and found to exceed expectation, 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 displayed 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 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 241 
 
 rpqnire time and circumslances to 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 
 liberality 7 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 compassion for 
 their wants, that it was truly godlike. So un- 
 paralleled 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, tha grace, of God. And, in- 
 deed, 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, re- 
 quires 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 reminded of 
 her hifjh descent, her unearthly character ; with- 
 out falling down afresh before the throne of Him 
 whose constraining love thus triumphs over the 
 selfishness of humanity. The world cannot 
 witness it witliout feeling its own selfishness con- 
 demned, without secretly bowing to the divinity 
 of relisfion. 
 
242 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 Christian, would you enjoy the most endear- 
 ing evidences of your heavenly Father's love ? 
 place your property at his disposal, and daily 
 trust him for d.iiiy provision. If his character 
 be paternal, your character should be filial ; and 
 the leading feature of that is unlimited depend- 
 ence. Would you honor him in his church 1 
 copy the example of " the churches of Macedo- 
 nia " in their abundant liberahty ; and you will 
 provoke some of your fellow-Christians to emu- 
 lation, and send others with grateful hearts into 
 the presence of God, and assist in enlarging the 
 sphere of evangelical labor, and raise the stand- 
 ard 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 Chris- 
 tian liberality shine before men. Not only prac- 
 tise the duty, but practise it on such a scale as 
 shall proclaim to them the existence of a super- 
 intending Providence, and convince them of 
 your reliance on its care. Devise liberal things 
 for the cause of God, and you will thus be assert- 
 ing the quarrel of your heavenly Father with an 
 unbelieving world ; 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 you will be affording him an occasion for 
 displaying his paternal love. He charges you to 
 be careful for nothing, that he may evince his 
 carefulness of you. 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 243 
 
 Of the poor it is said, that he who oppress- 
 eth them reproacheth his iMaker — cimrges God 
 witli 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 them, though 
 sent to him witli promises direct from God. 
 And thus, though God means 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 lionor his 
 providential government, the selfishness of man 
 frustrates his plans, and turns his honor into a 
 reproach. In a very similar manner, he has de- 
 volved 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 
 arrangements 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 lib- 
 erality 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 per- 
 ceive we his love, because he laid down his life 
 for us ; and we ou/ht to lay down our lives for 
 the brethren." " But whoso hath this world's 
 good, and sectli his brother have need, and shut- 
 
244 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 teth up his bowels of compassion from him, how 
 dvvelleih 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. 
 
 When the apostle Paul would enjoin the 
 Philippians to " look not every man on his own 
 things, but every man also on the things of oth- 
 ers," 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 be- 
 came obedient unto death, even the death of the 
 cross." He does not content himself with merely 
 stating the fact of our Lord's condescension and 
 death ; but, as if he loved to linger on the sub- 
 ject, he traces it from stage to stage ; as if the 
 immensity of the stoop which Christ made were 
 too great to be comprehended at 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 
 other 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 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 245 
 
 ■where Christ had heeri 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 a j)roh)nged gaze on his de- 
 scending course ; condescending to be born ; 
 voluntarily subjecting himself to all the humbling 
 conditions of our nature; taking on himself the 
 responsibilities of a servant ; still liumbling him- 
 self, still passing from one depth of ignominy to 
 a lower still ; becoming obedient unto death ; 
 and that death the most humbling, the most re- 
 plete with agony and shame, the death of the 
 cross. 
 
 Christian, can you ever contemplate this won- 
 derful exhibition without renewed emotions of 
 love? without feeling afresh that you are not 
 your own ? And say, ought such grace in 
 Christ to be requited with parsimony in his fol- 
 lowers? Ought such a Master to be served by 
 grudging and covetous servants? Ought such a 
 Savior to have to complain that those who have 
 been redeemed, and who 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 ? 
 O, shame to humanity ! O, reproach to the 
 Christian name ! Be concerned, Christian, to 
 wipe off the foul stain. Bring forth your sub- 
 stance, and spread it before him. Were you to 
 give up all to him, would it be vcrij reprehensi- 
 ble, or z;cr?/ unaccountable, considering that he 
 
246 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 gave up all for you 1 At least economize for 
 Christ. Retrench, 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 Chris- 
 tian liberality ; and various and cogent are the 
 motives which he adduces to excite their benev- 
 olence. But we might rest assured that it would 
 not be long before he introduced 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 ardor 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 nev- 
 er failed to introduce this motive ; he relied on 
 it as his main sti'ength ; 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 sake he became poor, that 
 ye through his poverty might be rich." You 
 know the height from which he stooped. You 
 know the depth of humiliation to which he de- 
 scended ; that he found no resting-place between 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 247 
 
 his tlirone and the cross. You know for whom 
 he did this ; for his enemies, his destroyers. 
 You know that lie did this vohiiitarily ; tlir.t he 
 was under no necessary obhgatioii to endure it; 
 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 earnestly he prosecuted the work 
 of our salvation ; that in every step he took be 
 was only gratifying the compassionate yearnings 
 of his own heart ; that he assumed lite for the 
 express purpose of laying it down ; that though 
 he saw as from a height the whole array of duty 
 and trial which awaited him, the only emotions 
 which he evinced at the sight were a self-consum- 
 ing ardor to reach the cross which stood at the 
 end of his path — a holy impatience to be baptized 
 with that baptism of blood. You know the ob- 
 ject for which he did it all — for your salvation ; 
 that he uiight pour his fulness into your empti- 
 ness, his riches into your poverty ; that he might 
 raise you to heaven, and share with you the glo- 
 ries of his own throne. 
 
 You know this ; not, indeed, in the sense of 
 comprehending 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 ; 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 sulHcient 
 to transform selfishness itself into disinterested 
 
248 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 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 burn- 
 ing ; and now you are looking forwards to eter- 
 nal 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 ? that he made himself poor 
 to enrich ijou 1 and will you not freely contribute 
 of your worldly substance to diffuse the knowl- 
 edge of his grace ? 
 
 Did he employ his heavenly powers solely for 
 your salvation, lay himself out for your haj)pi- 
 ness? Yes, saith he, " For their sakes I sanc- 
 tify myself I set myself apart, I appropriate 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 ever open his hand 
 but to bless ? or weep, but in sympathy with 
 human woe? What object did he ever pursue 
 but that of benevolence? imparting life to the 
 dying, pardon to the guilty, purity to the deprav- 
 ed, 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 possessed he gave for your sal- 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 249 
 
 vation, and all tliat you possess you should employ 
 for his glory. You enjoy a portion of this world's 
 goods; consider the use which /<e would have 
 made of it, and copy his divine example. 
 
 Did he not only employ his heavenly powers, 
 but actually deny liiniself, suffer, die for your 
 happiness? He pleased not himself. He en- 
 dured the cross, despising the shame. Hepour- 
 ■ed out his soul unto death. Himself he would 
 not save. He would not come down from the 
 cross. O! how did he for a season annihilate 
 himself! How did he take our place, take our 
 curse, and endure it all ! That?r«5 compassion. 
 That z^^ffs- looking on the things of others. That 
 was benevolence, — disinterested, unparalleled, 
 matchless benevolence. Let this mind be in 
 you. Never can 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, ijou know his grace, — you feel it. 
 How njucli owest thou unto thy Lord ! Do you 
 ever attempt to compute the mighty sum 1 En- 
 deavor to realize the idea ; and if then you feel 
 any reluctance to consecrate your substance to 
 him, it can only be on the ground of its utter in- 
 significance. 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 Chris- 
 tian liberality, and, as he turns on you a look of 
 benifrnity and love, he inquires, " Lovest thou 
 me ? " And as he points to that portion of your 
 Droperty which ought to be devoted to his cause, 
 
250 Christian liberality enforced. 
 
 he asks you again, " Lovest thou me more than 
 this ?" If so, devote it !o my cause, consecrate 
 it to my service. And he saiih unto you the 
 third time, " Lovest thou me ? " If so, " feed 
 my lambs, feed my sheep ; " support my poor ; 
 aid my interest in the world ; encourage every 
 effort made to bring home my wandering sheep ; 
 think of the millions of them that are perishing, 
 millions for whom I died ; shall my love be de- 
 frauded of them ? shall I not behold in them the 
 travail of my soul and be satisfied ? By the 
 love you bear to me, and by the intiuitely great- 
 er 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 he was 
 rich, for your sake he became poor, that you 
 through his poverty might be rich." 
 
 O, Christian, study your obligations at the 
 foot of the cross. If you would imbibe the dis- 
 interested and self-sacrificing benevolence of 
 your blessed Lord, take your station daily at 
 the foot of the cross. Never till you do this, 
 will you feel the claims which he has upon you. 
 But when you there see the great love where- 
 with 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." 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 251 
 
 If you are truly a Christian, you have felt that 
 you are not your own, that you are bouglit with 
 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 ac- 
 ceptance of your soul. But the dedication of your- 
 self includes the surrender of your property. 
 
 It is related in Roman history, that wiien the 
 people of CoUatia stipulated about their surren- 
 der to the authority and protection of Rome, the 
 question asked was, " Do you deliver up your- 
 selves, the Collatine people, your city, your 
 fields, your water, your bounds, your temples, 
 your utensils, all things that are yours, both hu- 
 man and divine, into the hands of the people of 
 Rome?" And on their re])lying, " We deliver 
 up all," — they were received. The voluntary 
 surrender which you, Christian, have made to 
 Christ, though not so detailed and specific as 
 this formula, is equally comprehensive. And 
 do you not account .those your best moments 
 when you feel constrained to lament that your 
 surrender comprehends no more? Can you re- 
 call 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 obligations ? And when 
 you feel tlius, how utterly impossible would it be 
 for you at such a moment to stipulate for an ex- 
 ception in favor of your property ! — to harbor a 
 mental reservation in favor of that ! 
 22* 
 
252 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 Can you think of the blessedness attending- 
 the act itself of tlie 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 S{3irit, his heaven, he Himself, all become 
 yours, to the utmost degree in which you can 
 enjoy them ; — can you think of this without often 
 repealing the act ? without feeling that had you 
 all the excellencies of a myriad of angels, his 
 love would deserve the eternal devotion of the 
 whole? Realize to your own mind the nature 
 of Christian dedication, and the claims of Him 
 who calls for it, and, so far from giving penuri- 
 ously 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 treaty which made you 
 his, and you will honor it accordingly ; you will 
 deeply feel the penury of all riches as an ex- 
 pression of your love to him ; Lebcinon would 
 not be sufficient to burn, or the beasts thereof an 
 offering large enough to satisfy the cravings of 
 your love. 
 
 Think, moreover, oi thehigh design for 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 tvorld. 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBKRALITY ENFORCED. 253 
 
 " God so loved tlie world lliat he irave his only 
 begotten Son " to redeem it. The object, in- 
 deed, for whicii he was given was, like liini!«eif, 
 infinite; an object which never can be shared, 
 and which never need be repeated. But tlie of- 
 fice to which God designates 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 wl)ich 
 prompted him to give Christ ; it is to be viewed 
 as nothing less than a symbolical representation 
 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 its own character. Like his 
 blessed Lord, he is to look upon himself as ded- 
 icated to the cause of human happiness, dedica- 
 ted from eternity. 
 
 Christian, you know the grace of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, — might the world infer the ex- 
 istence of his grace from your conduct? Is 
 your benevolence worthy of him, who, "though 
 he was rich, for your sake 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 l)enevolenl 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 
 
254 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 the perishing world had he never died for its 
 salvation, if his appointed and consecrated agents 
 neglect to make him known. Surely, you are 
 not, hy living only to yourself, hy wasting your 
 property on yourself as fast as he gives it to you, 
 leaving the woild to infer, that his character bore 
 any resemblance to yours ; and leaving it, be- 
 sides, to perish under your eye, because an ef- 
 fort to save it would incur expense. You have 
 not, you cannot, have so learned Christ. But 
 what then are you giving ? more than the hea- 
 then to his idol-god 1 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-indulg- 
 ence 1 " What do ye more than others? " 
 
 Consider also the happy injiuence which a 
 spirit of Christian liberality would have on your 
 own enjoyment. 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, and identifying 
 you with all things good, and glorious, and hap- 
 py 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 by liberal things you 
 shall stand. Taste the luxury of doing good, 
 and you will regret that you began so late. Se- 
 lect for imitation the loftiest examples — the few 
 distinguished names whose praise is in all the 
 churehes — and you will be conscious of a delight 
 which an angel might be grateful to share. God 
 himsejf is the happiest being, because he is the 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 255 
 
 most benevolent; and you would then in tlie 
 most exMJted sense be liolding fellowshij) with 
 biin ; you would understand experimentally the 
 saying of our Lord Jesus Christ, that " it is more 
 blessed to give than to receive ; " you would 
 make all the beneficence of the world your own, 
 by the complacency with which you would he- 
 hold it exercised and enjoyed. 
 
 But the motives to Christian charity are end- 
 less. The state of the world requires it. How 
 vast its multitudes; how urgent and awful their 
 condition ; liow brief the hour for benefiting 
 them ; how mighty the interest pending on that 
 short liour! Look where you will your eye will 
 encounter signals to be active ; myriads of ob- 
 jects, in imploring or commanding attitudes, 
 urging you to come to the iielp of the Lord, to 
 the help of the Lord against the mighty. 
 
 The chiireh e alls for it. It has many an agent 
 of mercy to send forth, if you will but aid to liir- 
 nish the means. It has many a generous pur- 
 pose in its 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 
 h;irvest of the heathen world, which Providence 
 seems to have prepared and to be keeping for its 
 sickle : — will you not aid to send f)rth more la- 
 borers into the harvest ? It has been slumbering 
 at its post for ages; it is now awaking to an 
 alarmed consciousness of its neglected re>|)onsi- 
 bilities, and, as it counts up its long arrears of 
 duty, it hastens to atone for the past by instilut- 
 
256 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED: 
 
 ing one society, and adopting one remedy, 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 lymg upon you; — will you not aid 
 it to retrieve the past T and assist it to recover 
 and present to the world its primitive aspect of 
 love and zeal 1 
 
 The Christians of apostolic times call for it. 
 Benevolence was their characteristic. A selfish 
 Christian was a contradiction of which they were 
 happily ignorant. 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 iak'mgjoyfuUi/ the spoiling of their goods; 
 the principle of finding their happiness in living 
 to God, in spending and being spent in his ser- 
 vice. It would have been difficult 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 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 ; for their Lord 
 had arisen, and was reigning on the throne of 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 257 
 
 heaven. At that thought, they not only rejoiced 
 themselves, tliey called on the universe to re- 
 joice 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 intervenin<^ days of 
 trial and pain ? They thought not of such 
 things! VVhat, to them, was a question of prop- 
 erty, 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 them- 
 selves. 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 engacred 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 ; 
 iliat is a disease peculiar to the morbid and self- 
 ish piety of modern days. The element of ac- 
 tivity and benevolence in which they lived, se- 
 cured them against such a malady, and produced 
 a race of Christians, vigorous, holy, and happy. 
 And is it from such, Christian, that yon pro- 
 fess to have descended ? do you claim relation- 
 ship to them ? profess to represent them? Bend- 
 ing from their seats of blessedness above, thf;y 
 urge, they beseech you, to east oil" the worldly 
 spirit in which you have hitherto indulged, anii 
 
258 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED, 
 
 to take up their fallen mantle. They entreat 
 you no longer to disgrace their name, nor the in- 
 finitely dearer name of Christ ; 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. iMuse on the prophetic paintings of the lat- 
 ter 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 midstof a redeemed, 
 sanctified, happy creation. All things sacred to 
 his name ; all tongues reheart^ing 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 llames ; new heavens, and a new 
 earth, wherein dweileth righteousness. And is 
 it possible that your agency can contribute to 
 accelerate that blessed period? These glimpses 
 of its glory are afforded you, expressly to engage 
 your agency in its behalf. Not only is your in- 
 strumentality desirable — there is a sense in which 
 it is indispensable. All things are waiting for it. 
 All things are ready but the church of Christ; 
 and until its prayers, its wealth, all its energies 
 and resources, are laid at the feet of Christ, all 
 things must continue to wait. 
 
 O, then, by the mercies of God ; by the rich- 
 es of his goodness towards you in nature, provi- 
 
CFIKISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 259 
 
 dence and grace ; by the sacrednessof tlie com- 
 mands which he has laid upon yon ; by a legiti- 
 mate regard for your own well-being; and by 
 the credit of that religion whose honor should be 
 dearer lo you than life, — we beseech you, Chris- 
 tian, 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 pain- 
 ful self-denial and deep humiliation ; by his 
 obedience unto death, even the death of the 
 cross ; O, by that 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 1 " and 
 give accordingly. By the tender and melting 
 considerations which led you at first to surren- 
 der yourself to his claims ; by the benevolent pur- 
 poses 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 give it freely to his glory. By the 
 cries of the world perishing in ignorance 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 unpar- 
 aelled benevolence of the first Christians, and 
 to be actuated by the same principles ; and as 
 you hope to behold the consummation of your 
 Savior'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 ser- 
 vice, and from this day to employ it accordingly. 
 23 
 
260 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 
 
 He who gave his only-begotten Son for your sal- 
 vation, — 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 Fa- 
 ther, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, unite in urg- 
 ing you to bring forth your property, and to lay 
 it upon the altar of Christian sacrifice. 
 
 And now, Christian, what shall be ihe practi- 
 cal effect of the truths which have been made to 
 pass before you 1 Allow me, in conclusion,' to 
 suggest what it ought to be ; and may God the 
 Holy Spirit give you grace to carry it into prac- 
 tice. 
 
 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 from you in an empty wish ; but im- 
 mediately bring forth something to be appropri- 
 ated to his glory. 
 
 Is your benevolence destitute of plan ? Then, 
 unless you can gainsay what we have advanced 
 on the necessity of system, lose no time in devising 
 one. 
 
 Are you a stranger to self-denial in the cause 
 of charity 1 Then, remember that benevolence, 
 with you, has yet to be begun j for, on Chris- 
 tian principles, there is no benevolence without 
 self-denial. 
 
 Here, then, is an object to take you at once to 
 the throne of grace. O, Christian, let it lead 
 you to pour out your soul in prayer before God. 
 Confess that selfishness by which you have hith- 
 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 201 
 
 erto absorbed so much of that property in worldly 
 indulgencies, which ought to have been spent in 
 his service. Ask him for the grace of self-deni- 
 al ; that your offerings may henceforth bear a 
 proportion to the magnitude of his claims. Be- 
 seech 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 property of his church. 
 *' He who soweth sparingly shall reap also spar- 
 ingly ; and he who soweth bountifully shall reap 
 also bountifully. And God lovcth a cheerful 
 giver." 
 
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