How _terrible_ then is death, but how _delightful_! Death is the _end_ of life; death is the _beginning_ of existence! Death _closes_ our prospects, and death _opens_ them! Death _debases_ our nature--death _purifies_ and _exalts_ it! "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his!"
Curiosity, ever disposed to pry into what the wisdom of G.o.d has not thought proper to reveal, has frequently inquired into the history of Lazarus after his resurrection. It has been asked, what were his feelings, what the nature of his recollections, and what the topics of his conversation? Did he communicate to his sisters any important intelligence from the invisible state, or was he withheld by any divine interdiction from explaining the secrets of his prison-house? Was it not to be expected that some record of those transactions in which he afterward engaged, or of the manner in which he was at last removed from the world, should have been given in Scripture, or of the impressions of his mind respecting the amazing changes which he had experienced?
The probability is, that Lazarus had no remembrance of the state into which he had pa.s.sed during the four days of his interment; and that, as it could answer no good purpose to himself or others to perpetuate in this world impressions suited only to the spirit in another condition of existence, the images of those realities were obliterated from his mind, like the visions of a dream that have for ever vanished away. It is sufficient for _us_, as it was enough for _him_, to know that the doctrine of the resurrection was exhibited to the Jews, with an evidence which, but for the violence of their prejudices, must have proved to all, as it did to many of them, irresistibly convincing.
Six days before the pa.s.sover, Lazarus appears again upon the page of Scripture history, at supper with Jesus at Bethany; but our attention is less directed to him than to his sisters and their divine Guest. Martha, as usual, was busied with domestic preparations; and Mary, with her characteristic zeal and affection, "took a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment."
The disciples were displeased at what they deemed this _waste_ of the rich balsam, and murmured against her. One of them especially, Judas Iscariot, exclaimed, "Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?" [39] But this objection, so far from being dictated by any kindness for the needy, arose entirely from his eagerness to increase the store with which he was intrusted, and which he was intending to appropriate to himself. Aware of this design, and disapproving the uncharitable disposition manifested by his disciples, Jesus reproved them; and expressed his satisfaction with Mary"s conduct as indicative of a regard for which she should hereafter be celebrated throughout the world. He intimated that he should soon leave them, and that this might be considered as an expression of fondness towards a friend who might be almost viewed as already dead, and to whom she would have few other opportunities of testifying her affection.
And shall not we be ready to consecrate our most valued possessions to the service of such a Master? Shall we hesitate to devote to him whatever he claims, or whatever we can bestow? Shall we feel a moment"s reluctance to aid his cause by the application of some considerable part of our pecuniary resources to his church and people? He has bequeathed his poor to our care, and it is a solemn charge; neglecting which we shall miss the honor of his final benediction; but fulfilling it, we may indulge the delightful hope that he will recompense even the most trifling attention, and inscribe upon each future crown, in characters visible to the whole intelligent universe, _he_ or "_she_ HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD."
The Poor Widow.
Chapter VIII.
Account of Christ"s sitting over against the Treasury--He particularly notices the Conduct of an obscure Individual--She casts in two Mites--it is to be viewed as a religious Offering--the Ground on which it is eulogized by Christ--the Example honorable to the female s.e.x--People charitable from different Motives--two Reasons which might have been pleaded as an Apology for withholding this Donation, she was poor and a Widow--Her pious Liberality notwithstanding--all have Something to give--the most trifling Sum of Importance--the Habit of bestowing in pious Charity beneficial--Motives to Grat.i.tude deduced from the Wretchedness of others, the Promises of G.o.d, and the Cross of Jesus.
Uncharitableness does not seem to have been characteristic of the Jews at any period of their history, who erred rather on the side of ostentation than of parsimony. During the three great annual festivals, the offerings to the temple were very considerable, and of various kinds; although, in the time of Christ, the country was in a state of comparative depression, as tributary to the Roman empire. Many individuals, however, were no less distinguished for their liberality than their opulence. But it is common to be deceived by appearances; and an action which we may estimate as good, may be of little value in the sight of that Being who "searcheth the reins and _hearts_," and who will "give to every one according to their works."
In the history before us our Saviour is represented as sitting "over against the treasury;" for though on every proper, and almost on every possible occasion, he addicted himself to solitude, both for the purpose of exemplifying the propriety of frequent retirement, and of obtaining spiritual refreshment; yet, at other times, he mixed with society to notice and to correct the follies of mankind. His observant eye could not overlook the minutest diversities of human character; and he never permitted a favorable opportunity of deducing from these appearances salutary lessons for his disciples, to pa.s.s unimproved. Happy, thrice happy men, to have such an Instructer at hand--to live so near the "Light of the world"--to have constant and intimate access to him, "in whom dwelt all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge!" And happy, thrice happy we, notwithstanding our comparative disadvantages of time and circ.u.mstance, who possess the recorded instructions of "the faithful and true Witness,"
in the page of inspiration, while "darkness covers" so vast a proportion of "the earth, and gross darkness the people!"
In the situation which Jesus had chosen, he distinctly saw the people casting money into the treasury, and particularly noticed the large sums which many rich persons contributed to this sacred fund. Little did they suspect what an eye was upon them, watching their movements, and estimating their motives! It is probable that the majority of those who came to present their gifts on this occasion, had no personal knowledge of the Saviour, who a.s.sumed no extraordinary appearance, excepting that of extreme poverty of condition and deep humiliation of spirit; and that of those who might recognize him, some had been so discomfited by his superior wisdom in the field of argument, as to feel no inclination either to dare another contest, or to submit to his decisions; others were too indolent to make inquiries after heavenly truth, too ignorant to penetrate beyond his humble exterior, or too fearful to incur the censure of ecclesiastical authority, for seeming by a respectful approach to become his disciples; while few, if any, who pa.s.sed by, were aware that "he knew what was in man."
If there were many among the wealthy contributors to the treasury who gave from motives of vanity and ostentation, it is reasonable to believe that others were characterized by genuine benevolence, and as such approved by their unknown observer. They were not influenced either by a spirit of rivalry or pride, but devoutly wished to be serviceable to religion and acceptable to G.o.d. If some came in the temper of the boasting Pharisee, who is represented as professing to pray in these words, "G.o.d, I thank thee that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican: I fast twice in the week, I give t.i.thes of all that I possess"--others, no doubt, as they cast in the liberal offering, felt if they did not exclaim with the publican, "G.o.d, be merciful to me a sinner."
Although the Son of G.o.d has rea.s.sumed his glory, being exalted "far above all princ.i.p.ality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come;" he minutely investigates the characters and actions of men, and will hereafter "appear in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory," for the purpose of "rendering to every man according to his deeds." The proceedings of that day will be marked by the utmost impartiality and justice, founded upon a perpetual and complete inspection of all human actions, and a most perfect knowledge of their motives.
"Can we think, O Saviour, that thy glory hath diminished aught of thy gracious respects to our beneficence? or that thine acceptance of our charity was confined to the earth? Even now that thou sittest at the right hand of thy Father"s glory, thou seest every hand that is stretched out to the relief of thy poor saints here below. And if vanity have power to stir up our liberality, out of a conceit to be seen of men; how shall faith encourage our bounty in knowing that we are seen of thee, and accepted by thee? Alas! what, are we the better for the notice of those perishing and impotent eyes, which can only view the outside of our actions; or for that waste wind of applause, which vanisheth in the lips of the speaker? Thine eye, O Lord, is piercing and retributive. As to see thee is perfect happiness, so to be seen of thee is true contentment and glory.
"And dost thou, O G.o.d, see what we give thee, and not see what we take away from thee? Are our offerings more noted than our sacrileges? Surely, thy mercy is not more quicksighted than thy justice. In both kinds our actions are viewed, our account is kept; and we are as sure to receive rewards for what we have given, as vengeance for what we have defaulted.
With thine eye of _knowledge_, thou seest all we _do_; but we _do well_, thou seest with an eye _of approbation!_" [40]
After stating the general notice which Jesus Christ took of the variety of opulent contributors to the treasury, the sacred narrative informs us of his particularly remarking the offering of a certain individual, whom he exhibited to his disciples as a pattern of unrivalled generosity. The comparative value and magnitude of this gift are recorded; and though the name of this honorable character is concealed, the benevolent deed can never be forgotten.
We are not informed of the sums given respectively by wealthy persons upon this occasion, but only in general that they were very considerable: "many that were rich cast in much." It is astonishing what large contributions have been sometimes advanced for charitable and other religious purposes: and from knowing that Jesus Christ selected for remark, and distinguished by an extraordinary eulogium, the offering of a certain woman to the treasury, we are eager to inquire who was the donor, and what the gift so celebrated.
But we must suspend our prejudices. Let us remember, that "G.o.d seeth not as man seeth"--that our calculations of value and of magnitude are often false, because we do not use the balances of the sanctuary, but are governed by the erroneous opinions of mankind--and then we shall be prepared to learn, that on that memorable day, when Jesus sat over against the treasury beholding the numerous and splendid donations of the rich, a _female_, a _widow_, "cast in more than they all"--more than any one individually, and more than all collectively!
What then were her resources? Was she some Eastern potentate, who, like the queen of Sheba, "came to Jerusalem with a very great train, with camels that bare spices, and very much gold and precious stones"--a queen who was able to present Solomon with "a hundred and twenty talents of gold, and of spices very great store, and precious stones?" No, she was a _poor_ widow! Our astonishment increases. But some poor persons have great future prospects, or great present connections. Had she then sold an hereditary reversion, or borrowed extensively of some wealthy friends, and impelled by a zeal for G.o.d, given it to the treasury? No--she gave only out of her _poverty_--"she threw in _two mites_, which make a FARTHING,"
or about _two pence_, according to the proportionate value of English money. [41] This was the donation that led Jesus to call his disciples, and address them thus, "Verily, I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury: for all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living."
It is proper to remark, that this gift was rather religious than charitable, the offering of piety as distinguished from that of almsgiving. This will be obvious, upon considering that the contributions to the treasury were not for the support of the poor, but for the supply of sacrifices and other necessary services. Dr. Lightfoot states that there were thirteen treasure-chests, called _Shopheroth_, and collectively _Corban_ or _Corbonah_, which were placed in that part of the temple denominated the Court of the Women. Two of these chests were for the half shekel, which every Israelite was to pay according to the law; and eleven others were appropriated to the uses specified in their respective inscriptions. 1. _For the price of the two turtle-doves, or two young pigeons_. 2. _For the burnt-offering of birds_. 3. _For the money offered to buy wood for the altar_. 4. _For those who gave money to buy frankincense_. 5. _For those who offered gold for the mercy-seat_. 6. _For the residue of the money for the sin-offering_. 7. _For the residue of the money for a trespa.s.s-offering_. 8. _For the residue of an offering of birds_. 9. _For the surplus of a Nazarite"s offering_. 10. _For the residue of a leper"s trespa.s.s-offering_. 11. _For whosoever would offer an offering of the herds_.
Our Saviour eulogized the gift of this good woman less, probably, on account of its comparative superiority to the more splendid donations of opulent contributors to the treasury, whose circ.u.mstances were so widely different from hers, than because her motives were more pure and pious.
The intention to purchase renown or self-approbation, diminishes the excellence of the most costly offering; while the simple desire to honour G.o.d and promote his cause, superadds substantial worth to the meanest donation. Jesus Christ perceived the workings of genuine faith and love in this woman"s heart, and estimated them at a price above the choicest jewels or the purest gold.
He saw and he approved the holy zeal of her mind, and well knew that the operations of her benevolence were restricted solely by the limitation of her means. These alone presented an impa.s.sable barrier to a liberality of spirit which impelled her far beyond the allowance of a timid policy, or a calculating prudence; and we may reasonably conclude, that she knew no regret at the scantiness of her pecuniary resources, and the inferiority, of her condition, save what originated in perceiving her small capacity of usefulness. She who could cast into the treasury the only two mites that she possessed, would have adorned a higher station. Had Providence placed her amongst the princesses of the earth, while she retained such a disposition, what an extensive blessing to society would she have proved! Such, however, in two many instances, is the corrupting influence of large possessions, that it is always questionable, whether in the very great majority of cases an increase of riches would not deteriorate the principle of benevolence; and whether, if placed amidst the splendid scenes of elevated rank, our eyes would not be soon so dazzled, as to incapacitate us either for seeing the wants of the poor, or the necessities of the church of Christ.
How exquisite and how enviable must have been the feelings of this pious woman, when she cast her last two mites into the treasury! What a n.o.ble generosity! what disinterested zeal! She could not delay a moment to inquire respecting the means of her future subsistence, or the comfort of the present day; the impulse was too powerful to be resisted, and was amply recompensed by an instantaneous enhancement of her happiness.
This example is highly honorable to the female s.e.x. It is not the language of flattery, but of truth, to say that they are distinguished by acute sensibility, quick sympathy, and persevering patience in doing good. They are naturally compa.s.sionate, and have the best opportunities of gratifying a charitable disposition. From const.i.tution they are more susceptible, from habit more considerate, and from character more prompt than the other s.e.x in promoting benevolent purposes. They generally require less urging to useful measures, and the flame of charity often burns with more brightness and perpetuity in their bosoms.
In the church of Christ, women have ever been pre-eminent in numbers and in character; they have been the first to profess Christ, and the last to dishonour him; they have joined the train of his followers, borne the reproach of his accusers, sustained the cross of self-denial, and aspired to the crown of martyrdom; they are recorded with marked distinction by an apostolic pen, "Women received their dead raised to life again, and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection;"--in a word, whenever they have been required to suffer for Christ, they have willingly surrendered life with all its joys; and whenever called to maintain his cause by pecuniary supplies, they have been found ready, like the poor widow, to give even to their last _two mites_.
Some persons will not be liberal, unless they can be praised. They are anxious to see their names exciting public attention, and their benefactions proclaimed upon some public list. If you will allow them to be "seen of men," they will reconcile themselves to make some sacrifice for the good of others; and overcome their heartfelt reluctance to give, when they are a.s.sured of being repaid in a proportionate measure of fame.
And thus, in fact, their charity is nothing but a sordid traffic; they barter for renown, and aim to insure the recompense before they hazard the gift. But we may be a.s.sured, that this is of all speculations the meanest, the most detestable, and ultimately the most ruinous. The poor widow had no suspicion of the kind of observance to which she was exposed, and no wish to attract attention. She silently dropped her money into the chest, and departed. The whole world was, in her estimation, ignorant of the deed; and the whole world could not have bestowed upon her so rich a gratification.
Persons of the cla.s.s alluded to will sometimes admit of concealment. They adopt many measures to hide their virtue from the eyes of others; they will by no means court public attention, or allow a formal publication of their deeds: but if perchance they are whispered abroad, if any indiscretion betrays them, if though not _written_, they are _stated_; they are the last persons on earth to feel any offence, and congratulate themselves on having effectually secured the applauses of mankind.
"Good actions," as the admirable Achbishop Leighton remarks, "cannot well be hid; and it may sometimes be necessary for example and exciting others, that they know of it; but take heed that vanity creep not in under this.
And further than either unavoidable necessity, or some evident further good of thy neighbour carries it, desire to be unknown and unseen in this.
When it must be public, let thy intention be secret; take no delight in the eyes of men on thee; yea, rather count it a pain; and still eye G.o.d alone, for he eyes thee. And remember it even in public acts of charity, and other such like, _he sees in secret_; though the action be no secret, the spring, the source of it, is; and he sees by what weights the wheels go, and he still looks upon that, views thy heart, the bidden bent and intention of it, which man cannot see. So then, though in some cases thou must be seen to do, yet in no case do to be seen: that differs much; and where that is, even the other will be as little as it may be."
There are other persons who, though they cannot in all cases be censured for penuriousness, have imbibed a very pernicious error. They plead that they have scarcely sufficient for themselves, that they cannot therefore afford to contribute even to a good cause; and that if they were to do any thing, it must necessarily be so little as to be useless. What, say they, could our insignificant donations avail in aid of a fund which requires the most liberal and constant supplies? Could our drop of charity materially increase the tide, or swell the ocean? Would it become us to take from our few necessities, what could not much augment the comforter minister to the wants of others? Or does G.o.d require that his cause should be sustained by the poor, and the poorest of the poor, when he can command the purses of the opulent, or turn the stones of the desert into gold.
To this reasoning the instructive history we are considering is a direct reply. There were two circ.u.mstances in her lot, which not only merited compa.s.sion, but would have furnished as strong arguments against her contributing to the treasury as it is perhaps possible to adduce.
She was in the first place POOR--poor in the extreme; for when she cast in "two mites" it was "all her living" Poverty is helpless. It does not possess the means of alleviating its own distresses, much less of a.s.sisting others to any considerable extent. "Wealth," says Solomon, "maketh many friends, but the poor is separated from his neighbour"--separated by his neighbour"s _selfishness_, who is too much occupied with his own concerns to cast his eyes beyond the narrow limits of personal interest--separated by his neighbour"s _insensibility_, whose heart is often cold and motionless to pity as the stone which paves his doorway--separated by his neighbor"s _avarice_, who idolizes gold, and grasps it with unyielding tenacity--separated by his neighbour"s _pride_, who looks with contempt upon his unoffending inferior--separated by his neighbour"s _servility_, who flatters greatness even by acquiescing in its unfounded dislike of the poor--ah! "the poor is _separated_ from his neighbour!"
You plead poverty as an excuse for disregarding every claim upon you; but are you as dest.i.tute as this obscure yet excellent woman, who had but a farthing, and gave it even without solicitation? Be encouraged by recollecting who observes and who can repay you. Indeed the poor of every cla.s.s were the particular objects of the Saviour"s attention during his residence on earth; and he has rendered the tattered garment of poverty respectable by having worn it himself.
There is one consideration, above all others, which seems to appeal most forcibly to the inferior cla.s.ses of society in behalf especially of the cause of Christ, and to urge some, even the smallest donations, to the _treasurer_, of the Christian temple, however incapacitated they may be for other benevolent exertions, namely, that _poverty appears to be the peculiar object of divine complacency and provision._ It is the common condition of the people of G.o.d, who "hath _chosen_ the poor of this world, rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him." The vale of poverty seems to be the favourite walk of celestial mercy. Here she distributes her charities--here she spreads her table--here she sends her ministers of grace. It was here the Saviour "went about doing good." The discourses he delivered were adapted to the poor--he consulted their capacities, instructed their minds, felt for their circ.u.mstances, and relieved their necessities. Whom others despised he honored--whom others forsook he sought--whom others suffered without a sigh to perish, he supplied, and comforted, and saved!
The Gospel itself was expressly addressed to the poor, and is peculiarly suited to their condition; and the messengers of heaven are directed to go out into the highways and hedges to compel men to come in. The promises of Scripture are peculiarly appropriated to the necessities of the poor. They have no _money_; hence the blessings of the everlasting covenant are described as "wine and milk," and are to be procured "without money and without price." The poor are subject to _fatigue_ through excess of labor; hence it is "the weary and heavy-laden," whom Christ invites to "come to him," promising them "rest." The poor, being deprived of those means of mental cultivation which the rich enjoy, are usually _ignorant_; hence the source of the Redeemer"s grateful appeal to the Father, "Thou has hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes." The poor are the _servants_ of others; hence we read of "the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free," and "if the Son make you free ye shall be free indeed." The felicities of the invisible state are represented in terms which form a complete contrast to the present condition of the poor. Are they now the tenants of the lowly cottage? "In my Father"s house are many mansions"--"we have a _building of G.o.d_, a house not made with hands, _eternal_ in the heavens." Must they now look on all the fields around them, and sigh to think that they belong to another?" Through the grace of the Gospel they antic.i.p.ate "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." Are they now clothed in wretched attire?--they may expect to be adorned with "white robes" and "a crown of glory." Are they now in a state of obscurity--their names unknown--their condition mean and despised?--hereafter they shall have a "name better than of sons and daughters;" they shall "shine as the brightness of the firmament," and "as the stars, for ever and ever." Is their condition on earth eminently "the _house of mourning_?" Do a scanty meal, a starving family, a pining partner, a wasting disease for which poverty forbids their procuring the most skilful means, frequently excite the bitter, the burning, the unavailing tear? In heaven "the days of our mourning shall be ended," and "G.o.d himself shall wipe away all tears from our eyes."
Had this poor woman been disposed rather to have evaded the gift to the treasury than to have volunteered so large a donation as that of "all her living," the circ.u.mstance of her being A WIDOW would seem to have been a sufficient apology. No condition of life can be conceived more wretched. A widow is deprived; "of the object of tenderest regard, the soother of her cares, the defence of her weakness, and the staff of her life." She is left to bewail in solitude--to suffer alone; or, if her children surround her, by tracing in their features the resemblance of her departed husband, she perpetually opens afresh the wound that time was kindly healing, and blends her fond caresses with tears of unavailing regret. She must now support herself--and perhaps struggle to supply them, whose childhood both disqualifies them from affording any a.s.sistance, and renders the incessant vigilance of maternal care essential to their very preservation. If, in addition to this, her poverty incapacitates her for resisting the arm of oppression, or vindicating herself against the unmerited reproaches of the censorious and the impious, her situation is inconceivably deplorable.
Some part of this description certainly applies, and perhaps all, to the character under consideration. She was a poor widow: and yet the miseries of her own state did not prevent her casting in a liberal supply, even "all her living," into the treasury of G.o.d. She trusted for to-morrow to that Providence which had supplied her to-day; a confidence which we cannot doubt experienced its appropriate reward.
In addition to these considerations, and as a reply to the sophisms already adverted to, by which so many in far superior circ.u.mstances to this good woman endeavour to fence themselves against the charge of illiberality, we remark--
1. It is by no means evident that you have absolutely _nothing_ that can be applied to the purposes of a pious charity. In order to prove this, it would be requisite to show that all your labour is scarcely sufficient to procure your subsistence--a subsistence that does not require or admit the smallest redundancy or the least indulgence. You must prove that you never pamper one appet.i.te or gratify one l.u.s.t; and that, in compliance with the exhortation of Christ, you "take no thought for the morrow." This is a case of so extreme a nature that its occurrence seems a bare possibility, and will not surely exonerate those who, if they are but scantily supplied in comparison with the ample abundance which enriches the condition of others, have nevertheless the means of a sufficient and perhaps a comfortable support. From those who possess much, much is required; and of those who have little _something_--to prove that the spirit of benevolence is not extinct, nor the claims of humanity and religion disregarded. You may be unable to pour in gold and silver, but surely you can contribute _two miles_". It is an excellent piece of advice, "If thou have but a little, be not afraid to give according to that little; for thou layest up a good treasure for thyself against the day of necessity."
2. Whatever may be our estimate of the merit or utility of a small donation, the most trifling addition is of some importance. The seed which is sown in the field of benevolence will bear some fruit and help to swell the harvest. The immeasurable extent of sand upon the sea-sh.o.r.e is made up of grains, and the loftiest mountains are composed of diminutive particles of dust. If the millions who are able to contribute their mites could be induced to do so, the treasury would soon be full; but if they withhold them, the uncertain, capricious, and ostentatious, though large contributions of the opulent, may fail to replenish it.
3. The _habit_ of giving, however small the sum, is inconceivably beneficial to the contributor himself. It is an important means of cherishing in the breast that divine principle, which without exercise and use would be likely to languish: for whatever sentiments we feel, whatever theories we adopt, and in whatever eloquence of language and warmth of spirit we expatiate upon the excellences of liberality, unless we _give_ to the necessitous ourselves, the heart will become hardened and cold; and a _theoretical religion_ can never preserve us from a _real impiety_.
"The peculiar nature of our religion," observes Dr. Barrow, [42]
"specially requires it, and the honour thereof exacts it from us; nothing better suits Christianity, nothing more graces it, than liberality; nothing is more inconsistent therewith, or more disparageth it, than being miserable and sordid. A Christian n.i.g.g.ard is the veriest nonsense that can be; for what is a Christian? What but a man who adores G.o.d alone, who loves G.o.d above all things, who reposes all his trust and confidence in G.o.d? What is he, but one who undertaketh to imitate the most good and bountiful G.o.d; to follow, as the best pattern of his practice, the most benign and charitable JESUS, the Son of G.o.d; to obey the laws of G.o.d and his Christ, the sum and substance of which is charity; half whose religion doth consist in loving his neighbour as himself! What is he further, but one who hath renounced this world, with all the vain pomps and pleasures of it; who professes himself in disposition and affection of mind to forsake all things for Christ"s sake; who pretends little to value, affect, or care for any thing under heaven, having all his main concernments and treasures--his heart, his hopes, and his happiness, in another world? Such is a Christian: and what is a n.i.g.g.ard? All things quite contrary. One whose practice manifestly shows him another thing besides and before G.o.d; to love mammon above G.o.d, and more to confide in it than in him; one who bears small goodwill, kindness, or pity towards his brother; who is little affected or concerned with things future or celestial; whose mind and heart are rivetted to this world; whose hopes and happiness are settled here below; whose soul is deeply immersed and buried in earth; one who, according to constant habit, notoriously breaketh the two great heads of Christian duty, "_loving G.o.d with all his heart, and his neighbour as himself_. It is, therefore, by comparing those things very plain, that we pretend to reconcile gross contradictions and inconsistences, if we profess ourselves to be Christians and are illiberal. It is indeed the special grace and glory of our religion, that it consisteth not in barren speculations, or empty formalities, or forward professions; not in fancying curiously, or speaking zealously, or looking demurely; but in really producing sensible fruits of goodness, in doing (as St. Paul signifies) _things good and profitable, unto men_."
The story of the poor widow is eminently calculated to inspire grat.i.tude in the hearts of those who are mercifully exempted from the wretchedness of such extreme poverty, which exposes to the temptation of repining at the dispensations of Heaven, and of pursuing improper measures for obtaining relief. Nor is its least evil that of cherishing an envious spirit towards those who are in superior circ.u.mstances. From the abodes of penury and want it is indeed a pleasing fact that Divine Grace has chosen its objects, and from lowly vales and humble cottages elevated them to thrones of immortality. We hear apostles saying, "Silver and gold have we none;" and Bartimeus, brought into the train of disciples from "the highway-side," where he was "blind" and "begging." And though it is a delightful consideration, that religion Can alleviate the rigours of want, and infuse sweetness into the bitterest waters of sorrow; yet poverty, with its concomitant evils, is an affliction from which, in its extreme form, we may pray to be relieved. Though in the strictest sense, the Christian, like the apostle, while "having nothing," may yet be said to "possess all things;" yet that degree of necessity which arises from extreme poverty is far from being desirable either for the body or the soul.