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CMVZiB, JUUNDASULi A AINOOXill', 

9ulil(8tet8, 3BooftseUen I? S^tsttoiiet0> 

60 WAtamoToiv E)t....Bostos, 
Have recently publisbed 

MAMMON— Prize Essay, 

C0y£T0USN£88 THE SIN OF TH£ CHRISTUN CHURCH. ' 

By Bbt. JOHN HARRIS, 
Author of the "Great Teecher." 

•ECOlTD AMXSIOAir, FBOM THB TBITTH LONOOH BDITIOV. 



7^15 Work has already engaged the aUetUum of 
Churches and individuals^ and receives the highest 
commendations' The publishers take pleasure in pre- 
senting the following united recommendaiionfrom cler- 
gymen in this city. 

" Haviog[ 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 Clirist. 

" 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^ I/uciusBoUes, 
David Greene, Oeorge B. Ide^ Abel Stevens^ 
Damiel Sharpy Geo. W.Blagden, Wm. JenkSj 
Win. M. Rogers^ J. li. Fairchildy A, Boies^ 
Jotham Hortony S. S, MaUery, D.M. Lardy 
Baron StoWy HubburdWiTulow y E. Thresher. 



m 



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I 



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From the Christian Watchman. 

We wish not only to add our testimony to the excel- 
lency of this book, but to urge ii upon the attention of 
our readers. We commend it to the attenfibn of busi- 
ness men, and especially young men. As a specimen 
of good writing, of accurate thought and of conclusive 
reasoning, it demands attention ; but more especially 
does it claim attention, as being an able treatise on a 
most import£mi subject ; one that enters more or less 
into the every day pursuits of all men, especially so in 
those of business men. 

From the New Yoric Observer. 

Itjwould be great praise to say of a work on a sub- 
ject so deeply interesting as that announced in the* 
above title, thaiU had been done well. That the essay 
before us has an eminent title to this praise, might b>e 
presumed from the history of its authorship and pub- 
lication. * * * We have read it with great interest, 
and reconmiend it as equally rich in evangelical prin- 
ciple, philosophical analysis and practical application. 

From the Philadelphia Observer. 

This neat little volume, on the important subject of 
which it treats, we have read with much satisfaction. 
The author handles it in a masterly manner. * * * 
Our hope is, that it will be extensively read. 

From the Dover Star. 

If this work should fail of opening the eyes of tiie 
professed church of Christ to the wickedness and dan- 
ger of their covetousness, and of touching the springs 
of Christian benevolence, it must be from one of these 
two reasons, either that the book will not be generally 
read, or that its readers are " past feeling." We com- 
mend it to our readers ; they will find in it what will 
highly entertain the mind and benefit the heart. 

From Zion's Herald. 

Among all the Books which have fallen into our 
hands to notice, we have never felt our inability to do 
justice to any of them, to such an extent as to tlie one 
now before us. Jt exhibits the writer as a man of su- 



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perior intellectual power, and sided with talents 
which, if rightly applied and heeded, may yet be des- 
tined to move the moral world. Ilis eloquence is the 
eloquence of reason, founded in tlie records of eternal 
truth. His sentiments are a wundeiful concentration 
of truth and wisdom, carrying with tliem such con- 
mcing power, as must strip avarice of its coat of mail, 
and turn the streams of extravagance into the chan- 
nel of universal love. His style is so entirely free of 
cumbrous words, that the whole book resembles a se- 
ries of engrammatical sentences, each one conveying, 
in a few Tines, that for which in many writers we 
have to travel over pages. 

From the Southern Religiooa Telegraph. 

las appearance is highly seasonable. Its title may 
appear repulsive to some members of the church. 
Mammon ! Who is willing to be recognized as a dis- 
ciple of Mammon 1 * * * Notwithstanding the re- 
piilsivenass of the subject, and the heinous nature of 
the sin which it exposes, and the general unwilling- 
ness to be convicted of <an offence so humiliating as 
this form of selfishness, the book will be read exten- 
sively by those who ought to read it. The power and 
spirit in which it is written, the noble thoughts of the 
writer, nobly expressed, will commend it to their at- 
tention, and they will read and admire it, even if they 
decide that they will not repent. 

From the Biblical Recordert Newburn, N. C. 

The extent and ruinous consequences of the sin of 
which this work treats, even among professors of reli- 
gion, we have long been fully apprized of. The publi- 
cation of the above-named work in this country, we 
therefore consider seasonable and happy. Under such 
circumstances, we sincerely recommend it to the at- 
tention of our readers, and trust that a large propor- 
tion of copjes may be disposed of, in this as well as in 
odier States. 

From the Richmond Religioos Herald. ' 

The work attacks with much force this insidious 
vice. Mr. Harris is a fearless and energetic writer. 
His style is close, nervous and lucid, and nis habits of 



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thinking highly original. The topics he selects are 
judiciously selected and impressively enforced. The 
present treatise has fully answered our expectations ; 
and we earnestly trust it will be extensively read, and 
be productive of much good. 

Bztract from an extended notice in the " Cbristian Review." 

We hail this volume with heartfelt pleasure. Its ap- 
pearance is most seasonable. It will commend itself 
to all who will peruse its pages ; and we trust that its 
solemn and powerful appeals to conscience and duty 
may be productive of tne happiest results. We do 
earnestly advise the pastors of churches to take pains 
to promote the circulation and perusal of this master- 
ly production among their congregations. 

A correspondent of the Boston Recorder sayi, 

O that Christian professors generally could be indu- 
ced to read, with a teachable spirit, this pungent, soul- 
stirring appeal, and then examine how clearly and 
frequentlv the Scriptures place the coveUms with " idol- 
aters," who " have no inheritance in the kingdom of 
Christ and of God." 

Extract from the London Evangelical Review. 

The simple historv of this volume is, perhaps, its 
strongest recommendation. Amidst so many compet- 
itors, and with such enlightened judges, it is no mean 
honor to any one, however distinguished, to have 
stood pre-eminent; and, if we are not greatly mistaken, 
the award of merit has fallen on one who possesses 
moral dignity and goodness sufficient to know how to 
receive and now to use the distinction conferred on 
him. We have quoted sufficient to prove to our read- 
ers of every grade that" Mammon " is the production 
of H.7nasteT mind, 

A diitingoished Congregational Minister in London writes to 
his friend fn this city : 



({ 



'Mammon' has taken most tistonishingly with 
our reading community. ' The Great Teacher ' was 
A fine work ; but the last work of Mr. Harris places 
him in the very first rank of our religious writers." 



m- 



M 



MAMMON: 



4 



Nf. 50 WaihingUn Stnet. 

1837. 



hi- 






MAMMON: 



OR, 



COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OP THE 
CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 



By rev. J.OHN HARRIS 

▲VTHOB or THB * ORXAl'^ACHSR. 



SECOND ABIERICAN, 



VBOM THS TXNTH LOHOOH XDITIOIT. 



BOSTON: 

aOULD, KENDALL & LINCOLN, 
Ny. 90 Waihingtoa Btnet. 

1837. 



Prirtbd bt Wm. a. Hall Be Co. 






TO 

T. CONCIUEST, ESa, M. D., P. L. S., &a 

0^8 Sssast 



ORIGINATED BT HIS UBERALITT, 



AHD 

ACCOMPANIED ST TBt FtUTER THAT IT MAT PROMOTE 
HIS BENEVOLENT OBJECT, 

IS RESFECTFULLT INSCRIBEb 
BT 



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 ite publication. 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 efiect on the religious 
community, or have received more universal 
encomiums, than " Mammon ! '' Certainly 
no work could be better devised, or more faith- 
fully executed, to counteract the prevailing 
sin of the times. 

As an evidence of the popularity of the 
work in England, it is sulSicient 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 — certainlyno religious author." 
The desirableness of having a cheaper edition 
has been suggested by some who have iaterest- 
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. 

They would, however, state, that there has 
been no alteration in the text, (except the 
correction of some few typographical errors,) 
from the former edition. 

BosUm, Feb, 1837. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

Paob. 

SELFISHNESS THE IMTAGONIcrr OF THE GOSPEL. 

Sect. 1. — The Universe designed to display and enjoy 

theLoveofGkxl 17 

Sect. 2. — Sin, as Selfishness, is the frustration of the 

Divine Plan * . . 20 

Sect. 3— All Sin is Selfishness 23 

S&cT. 4. — The Gospel, as a S3rstem of Benevolence, op- 

p()sed to Selfishness ... ^ ... 26 
Sect. 5. — Selfishness, the Sin of the World, has long 

since become the Sin of the Church . . 38 
Sect. 6.— The Forms of Selfishness in the Church . 42 



PART n. 

COYETOUMNESS THE PRIKaPAL FORM OF SELFISHNESS— IN m 
MATURE, FORMS, PREYALENCE, ESPECIALLY IN BRirAIN*— 
XESCnJlSES, TESTS, EYILS, IXiOM^ AND PLEAS. 

Sect.!. — The Nature of CoYetonsness ..... 57 

Sect. 2. — Forms of CoYetousness 61 

Sect. 3.— Prevalence of Covetousness . , . . , 66 



?1 CONTENTS. 

Sect. 4. — The present predominance of Covetousness 

in 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. 

CHBISTUN LmERALTIT EXPLAINED AND ENFOBCSD. 

Sect. 1.— Christian Liberality explained .... 901 
SEC7r.2.r— Christian Liberality enforced • . * . .225 



ORIGINAL ADVERTISEMENT. 



Many of the wisest and best of men are of opinion, that 
there is no sin so prevalent among professors ol the Qo^l 
as the love of Tnoney, and yet 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 
time supported." Chie hundred guineas^ besides the profits 
of itspuDlication, will be presented to the author of the 
best Eissay on this subject. Preference will be given to 
the most scriptural, poignant, and affectionate appeal to 
the judgment and conscience of those who professedly 
recognise the authority of revelation on avaricious hoard- 
ing, and on unchristian-like expenditure to gratify the lust 
of the eye and the pride of life, whilst they avow their ob- 
ligations to redeeming mercy, and profess that themselves 
and all they have is not their own, but belongs and must 
be accounted for to Him who 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 seljishness, 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 Gkxl who abhorreth the 
covetous, Psalm x. 3 ; and to the tremendous consequences 
of accumulating property, as thi^ sin is associated with the 

2 



YIU 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 ad- 
dress of the writer. The Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel, 
and the Rev. Dr. Pye Smith, have kihdly engaged to be 
the arbitrators, and the award will be adjudgS on the 1st 
of May, 1836. 



ADJUDICATORS' ADVERTISEMENT. 



In the early part of the last year, wc were made ac- 
Cjtiamted with tne proposal of a Christian friend, John 
Trickey CoNauEST, 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 Rssay produced in competi- 
tion, with the usual precautions to preserve the secrecy of 
the authors, upon tne sin of Coyetousness ; particularly 
with regard to the duties of piety and beneficence, which, 
at the present time are so incumbent on all men, but es- 
pecially on those who would not abdicate the name of 
Christians. The request was made that we would be the 
umpires in determining to whom, in such a friendly com- 
petition, that prize would be the most righteousr^ due. 
To that request we assented with many feelings oi diffi- 
culty and reluctance ; but the opinion of duty induced us 
to suppress them. 

The requisite care was taken, that, till we had given onr 
decisipn, we should not have the slightest knowledge, or 
any ground of conjecture whatsoever, concerning the 
writers of the Essays, which were no fewer than one 
hundred and forty-three. 

After much thought, and humbly seeldng, by prayer and' 
supplication, that we might be enabled to form a right 
judgment, we saw it to he our duty to declare the work 
now ?iven to the public, to be the one entitled to Dr. Con- 
quest s munificent prize. But we did not arrive at this 



adjudicators' advertisement. 



determination, withoat 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 Uie heart and character 
of man, and are so marked with comprehensive research, 
deep penetration, and Christian candor, as to have made 
06 reel 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 Elssays should be published. We are persuaded that 
the subject is not exhausted; and if, by the respective 
authors, our request for the publication should be granted, 
we trust the great cause of religion will be eminently 
served, and that the minds of Uiose excellent persons will 
enjoy the delight which flows from extensive and the most 
important usefuhiess. 

J. PYE SMITH. 

BAPTIST W. NOEL. 



Nea;r London^ Jane 3, 1836. 



PREFACE. 



The history of this Essay is sufficiently 
explained by the Advertisements prefixea. 
But concerning its plan^ 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 him 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* 



XU 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 inefficacy 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. SOU 

liouncing the sin, in his epistle to Timothy, 
Seneca was decrying the san>e 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 
fidling a victim to the jealousy of Nero. But 
if such b^ the inefficacy of the precepts of the 
heathen philosopher, what is the prescription 
of the Christian apostle? Aware that the 
same means which destroy cupidity produce 
liberaUty, 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^ee the evil, but to follow the op* 
posite virtues, and to flee the one &y 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 be 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 Liberality. 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 thcU 
motive is the love we bear to him. Till this 
love possess us, the sublimest 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. 

Diodorous 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 cel- 
ebrated. 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 
fi*om 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 



PREPACB. XV 

the Christian Church. He is aware that by 
bringing even an ordinary evil near to the 
eye, aad prolonging one's gaze at it, it may 
go on swelling and enlarging in the. appre^ 
hension, til] it has come to fill the whole 
sphere, of vision, to the exclusion and tempo* 
rary oblivion of other evils of superior mag- 
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 
reaction they are constantly producing and 
strengthening each other j 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 diminishing, but augmenting our 
aversion to its destructive/rwif^. The writer 
feels convinced that the best mode of acquiring 
a clear, comprehensive and impressive view 
of adl the existing 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 be may be the means of inflicting if only 
a single blow on the root of all evU, and of 
thus aiding the growth of that ptont " which 
is from above .... fall of mercy and of good 
fruits," he would place this Essay at the feet 
of Him who deigns to commend the widow's 
mite. 



PART THE FIRST. 



SELFISHNESS THE ANTAGONIST OF THE GOSPEL. 



SECTION I. 



THE UNIVERSE DESIGNED TO DISPLAT AND ENJOY THE LOV£ 

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 celesticil 
creation, replenished with bright intelligencies, 
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 thQ 
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 desfgned that each individual should 
feel himself alhed 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 
enjoy^ the latter was intended to show how 
much 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 realized, 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 pasfeively receiving happiness in exercising 
the godlike prerogative of imparting it ; — a whole 
order of intelligent beings, having one hearty and 
one mind; a heart beating in concert with heav- 
en, and diffusing, 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. 10 

ed by God in paradise, called forth audible ex- 
pressions of his divine complacency ; on survey- 
ing it from the height of the excellent glory, he 
pronounced it good, and the light of his counte- 
nance fell full upon it. 



SECTION II 



SIN, AS SELFISHNESS, IS TEIE. FRUSTRATION OF THE DITINE 

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 tobe 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 Grod ; 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 individud, 
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 ail its forms would break up, every 
man's hand would be turned into a weapon, and 



23 BIS, A FRUSTRATION OF GOD's PLAN. 

all the earth become a battle-field in which th^ 
issues to be decided would be as numerous as 
the combatants, so that the conflict could end 
onlj with the destruction of every antagonist. 

There is, be it observed, a wide difference 
between selfishness and legitimate sel^love. This 
is a principle necessary to all sentient existence. 
In man, it is the principle which impels him to 
preserve his own life, and promote his own hap- 
piness. Not only is it consistent with piety, 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 happiness in God. It is the act or 
habit of a man who so loves himself that he gives 
himself to God. Selfishness is, /a//€n 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. 



ALL Sm m SELFISHNESS. 



Accordingly, selfishness, as we have already 
iDtimated, is the uDiversal form of human de- 
pravity ; every sin that can be named is only a 
modification of it. What is avarice, but selfish- 
ness grasping 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 that god asleep, and 
refusing to attend to the loud calls of duty! 
And what 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 contradic- 
tion, and refusing to acknowledge superiority, 
or to bend to any will but its own. What is 
egotism, but selfishness speaking? Or crime, 
but selfishness^ without its mask, in earnest, and 

3» 



24 ALL BIN IS 8ELFIHSNESS. 

actxTig? Or offensive war, but selfishness con- 
federated, armed, and bent on aggrandizing it- 
self by violence and blood 1 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 1 
Come they not hence, ecen 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 roan, — 
what was it but selfishness insane t an irrational 
and road 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 greai want 
of fallen humanity, is, a specific against selfish- 
ness, the epidemic disease of our nature. The 
expedient which should profess to remedy oar 
condition, and yet leave this want unproYided 
for, whatever its other recommendations might 



ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. 25 

be, would be leaving the seat and core of our 
disease untouched. And it would be easy to 
show that in this radical defect consists 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 
Crod. 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 selfishness, 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 STSTEM 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 
realize 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 dis- 
tinction 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 0PP08BD TO SELFISHNESS. 27 

'' God 80 loved the world, that he gave his 
only begotten Son, that whosoever belie veth in 
him should not perish, but have everlasting life." 
He could not give us more ; and the vast propen- 
Bions 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 selfishness 
with a sentiment of generous and diffusive 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." He did nothing for himself; whatever he 
did was for the advantage of man. Selfishness 
stood abashed in his presence. " He went about 
doing good." He assumed our nature expressly 
that he might be able to suffer in our stead ; for 
the distinct and deliberate object of pouring out 
its blood, and of making its soul an offering for 
sin. He planted a cross, and presented to the 
world a prodigy of mercy of which this is the 
only solution, that he " so loved us." ** While 
we were yet sinners, Christ died for U8«" He 



28 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM, 

took our place in the universe, absorbed our in- 
terest, opened his bosom, and welcomed to his 
heart the stroke which we had deserved. 

And in , all he did, he thought of the world. 
He loved man as man ; he came to be the light 
and life of the world. He came and stood as the 
centre of attraction to a race of beings scattered 
and dissipated by the repulsive power of 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 ofiice of the Holy Spirit is appointed and 
concurs to the same end. The world could not 
be surprised out of its selfishness, and charmed 
into benevolence by the mere spectacle even of 
divine love. That love can be understood only 
by sympathy ; but for this, sin had disqualified 



OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 29 

US. According to the ecopomy 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 approach 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 
their 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 but 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 
that exhibition into a means of implanting a 



V" 



\ 



OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 



kiodred principle of love in the human heart : k 
stopped not at the implantation of this principle^^ 
but instituted a church for the express purpose 
of employing it for the benefit of the world ; of 
employing it on the largest scale and with the 
greatest effect^ and of thus conferring on it the 
power of propagating itself. 

In the Christian church, 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 positions, harmo- 
nize their jarring natures, and fuse all their 
hearts and interests into one. Converging from 
the most opposite points, they would meet at the 
cross ; and the principle which had drawn them 
to that would bind them to each other. £ach 
would behold in every other a living memorial of 
his Lord ; and see, in the grace of Christ to the 
whole, a token of that grace to himself in 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- 
flected 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 which it gfowed find- 
ing itself allied to every other Christian heart, 
and the whole feeling themselves reinforced with 
the benevolence of heaven, would meditate the 

4 



82 THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEIC^ 

conversion of the world. As often as they apv 
proached the throne of grace, they would find 
themselves touching the springs of universal and 
almighty love, — and would ihey 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 bieneficence ; 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 plenitude 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 name^ from him they would have 
derived their nature; by necessity of nature, 
therefore, they would pant to behold universal 
happiness. Not only would they feel that every 
accession to their number was an increase of 
their happiness ; as long as the least portion of 
the 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, (he 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 imperium in imperio, a dominion of 
love flourishing amidst arid wastes of selfishness; 
but, extending on all sides its peaceful conquests, 
it would be seen 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 OOBPEL, A8 A SYSTEM, 

of benevolence would flow through the world 
with alt the majesty of a river, widening and 
deepening at every point of its progress by the 
accession of a thousand streams, till it covered 
the earth as the waters cover the sea. Thej 
who, under the reign Of selfishness, had sought 
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 situatioit 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 ; bat let the heavenly system be worked 
fairly, and there is every thing po be expected, — 
its triumph is certain." 

But has its object been realized ? 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 ihus ? why has the gospel been 
hitherto threatened with the failure of a mere 
human experiment ? When first put into activi- 
ty did it discover any want of adaptation to its 
professed purpose 1 The recollection that God 
is its author, forbids the thought. It is the wis- 
dom of God, and the power 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 Hn inquiry iuto the apparent inefficaoy of 

4* 



36 THE GOflPEL, 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 commenced its career^ it fri- 
wnphed 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 bat" 
break, and dispense it. The love of Christ con- 
strained them. As if his last command were 
constanllj 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 (or the world ; 
executors of a Savior who had bequeathed hap- 
piness to man; guardians of the most sacred 
rights 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, fbr 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 power was 



OPPOSED TO SBLFI8HNES8* 37 

lave. Diversified as thej were in mind, country, 
condition, age— one interest prevailed ; one sub- 
ject of emulation swallowed up every other-— 
which 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, 



I9J3LFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE WORLD, HJLS LONG SINCB BBCOM£) 

THE SIN OF THE CHURCH. 

Again, then, we repeat the momentous in- 
quiry ,-^and we would repeat it slowly, solemnly, 
end with a desire to reoeire the full impression 
of the only answer whiph can be given to it ; — 
what has prevented the gospel from fulfilling its 
first promise, and completely taking effect 1 
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 failuns 1 Owing, 
solely, to (he treachery of those who have had 
the administration of it ; owing, entirely, to the 
selfishness oj 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 
ftris^a in the world ^ no antagQoist has appeared 



SBLFISHNBB8, THB SIN OF THB CHURCH. 

there which the gospel did not encounter and 
subdue in its first onset ; yet at this advanced 
stage of its existence, when it ought to be repos- 
ing from the conquest of the world, the church 
listens to an account of its early triumphs^ as if 
they were meant only for wonder, and not for 
imitation ; as if they partook too much of the 
romance of benevolence to be again attempted ; 
— now, when it ought to be holding the world 
in fee, it is barely occupying a few scattered 
provinces as if by sufferance, and has to begin 
its conflicts again. And, we repeat, the only 
adequate explanation of this appalling fact is, 
thai selfishness, the sin of the world, has become 
the prevailing sin of the church. 

This statement, indeed, may, at first sight, ap» 
pear inconsistent with the truth, that the church 
is the only depository and instrument of divine 
benev(^ence. 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 
regarded 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 eonsequent slowness of 



40 SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE WORLD. 

the healing process. It depends, therefore, on 
the degree to which they avail themselves of the 
means of recovery, whether or not they shall 
become active and instramental 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 lifetime 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 worlds is the prevailing malady 
of tlie 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 centuo 
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 
pf spiritual declension, calculating conseijuences^ 



tiELFISHNK80, TBS SIN OF THB CHURCH. 41 

growing indifferent to its peculiar duties, turning, 
its influence into worldly channels, subordinating 
every thing sacred to worldly greatness and gain, 
till it had become a monstrous personification of 
an all-grasping selfishness, fi-om 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 realize 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 t 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 we are contribut- 
ing, in however humble a degree, to retrieve its^ 
lost honors, and to point it the way to victory.. 



SECTION VI. 



TH£ 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 party spirit ; 
and which, for the sake of distinction, may be 
denominated the selfishness of the sect. Circam- 
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 
offered by the world to the entire church, far less 



FORMS OF SELFISHNESS IN THE CHURCH. 43 

than it resents any supposed insult offered by 
other sections of the church to its own partj. 
The 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 — forgetp 
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 THB FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 

family of Christ. The great scheme of mercy 
originated in a love which consented to overlook 
Ihe enmity and fierce 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 slightest 
conscientious difference, without resenting that 
difference as a personal and meditated affront ; 
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 yniversal belief, it 
would fain call down fire from heaven, or kindle 
a furnace seven times hotter than an ordinary 
anger would demand, for all wIk) presume to 
question its infallibility ; — 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 stronge^st 
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* 
ishnesa, indeed, in this repulsive form, is of 
comparatively limited existence ; and, as if by a 
judicial arrangement of providence, it is com- 
monly, in our day, associated with errors and 
tempers so unamiable 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 gospel 
charters redemption to the world, — but they 
have heard that there are divine decrees ; and 
until they can logically reconcile their views of 
the divine inflexibility with the universality of 
the divine compassion, the charter must stand 
over, and souls perish unwept ; and the gospel 
of Christ, God's great gift, the adequate image 
of the infinitude of his love, be branded with the 
stigma of exclusiveness. Put the affairs of the 
kingdom of Christ into their hands, — and, under 
the affectation of a pious dread of contravening 
the sovereign purposes of God, or of forestalling 
his appointed time, — they would forthwith call 
home the agents of mercy in distant lands, break 
up the institutions, and stop the whole machinery 
of Christian benevolence. In the midst of a 
famishing world, they would establish a monopoly 
of the bread of life; and, though assailed on all 
Bides 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 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 selfishness of 0igfpew^ 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 
hfi personally comforted ; which, in all its reading 
and hearing, makes its own individual comfort, 
not a means, but an end ; and which, in pursuit 
of that end, goes up and down in the 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, 



IN THE CHDRGH. 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 
firora 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 wants 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 selfishness of the closet. It penetrates 
even to the throne of God, and there, where, if 
any where, a man should give himself up to what 
is godlike, there where he should go to engage 
an almighty agency in the behalf of his race, it 
banishes from his thoughts every interest but liis 
own, rendering him a suppliant for himself 
5* 



f 



48 THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS 

alone. It makes him as exclusively intent on 
his gwn 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 world ; 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 immersed in the shadow of 
death ; but provided they catch a ray of that 
light for themselves, the gloom of the world may 
remain unrelieved. He points out the infinity 
of their resources in himself, gives them access 
to more than they need for themselves, in order 
that they may go and instrumentally administer 
to the wants of others. He calls them to his 
throne as a royal priesthood, as intercessors for 



IN THE CHURCH. 49 

the 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 the 
selfishness ofthejpurse. 

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 8SLFI8HNESS 

hearts, would overwhelm 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 self' 
denial would be dignitied 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 trifling. ** 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 nothing equal to that. Every thing is 
made to give way to that. The cause of Christ 
Itself must wait for that, and is only held secon- 
dafy 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 
consequence. And thus, while God has to com-* 
plain of them as slothful and unfaithful in his 
service, Mammon can boast of them as among 
his most diligent and devoted servants. 

They seek their worldly ease and enjoyment. 
Self, self, is the idol to which 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 
paralleled by either sacred or other history ; 
that hath made more desolation in the souls of 
men than ever was made in their towns and 
cities where idols were served with only human 
sacrifices, or monstrous creatures satiated only 
with such food ; or where the lives and safety of 
the 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 BBLFISHNB8S 

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 o^ly 
with the crumbs which fall from his table. 

These are some of the leading forms of that 
demon of selfishness, whose name is Legion, 
-ttnd 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 worldly ends, as regardless of the welfare of 
others, as if none but themselves inhabited the 
earth T-r-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 redemption provided for it? 
Well has self been denominated the great Anti- 
christ ; for, though it may not be the antichrist 
of prophecy which is to appear in the latter day, 

♦ Howe. 



IN THB CaOKGH. 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 univer- 
sal 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 hare specified, has been banished 
iirom the church, — and what would ensue 1 Each 
denomination of Christians, without sacrificing 
its distinctive character, would embrace and seek 
to all J 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 primarj 
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 wo\dd be kindled into a sacrificial ^ 
flame for his glory, into which every Christian 
would cast the savings of his selMenial 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 famify 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 waitifig 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. 



,• 



PARI' THE SfiCOND. 

tOirETOUSN£SS,^THE PRINCIPAL FORM OF SELFISH- 
NESS, — IN ITS NATURE, FORM, PREVALENCE, ES- 
PECIALLY IN BRITAIN, DISGUISES, TESTS, EVILS,* 
DOOM, AND PLEAE^. 



6 



SECTION I. 



THE lUTDRE OP OOTBTOmNEaS. 

If selfishness be the prevailing 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 ns 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 suffice 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 NATCRE OF C0TET0USNE8S. 

form 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 rob it of its honors, as the instru- 
ment of the world's conversion, surely nothing 
more can be necessary to reveal the appalling 
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* 
joyraent. The determinate direction which this 
craving takes after money, is purely accidental, 
and arises from the genera] 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 liabilitj to this sin arises, we say, from the 



THE NATUltB OF ^OT£TOU0NS88. 69 

perception that '' money answereth all things." 
Riches in themselves, indeed, are no evil. Nor 
is the bare possession of them 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, perceivin£r 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 good 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 C0VET0VBNB8S. 

most obvious and general distinction, perhaps, is 
that which divides it into the desire of getting, 
as contradistinguished from the desire of keeping 
that which is already possessed. But each of 
these divisions is 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. 



Br vjorldlinesSf we mean cupidity in itsearli- 
est, most plausible, and most prevailing form : 
not yet sufficiently developed to be conspicuous 
to the eye of man, yet sufficiently characteristic 
and active to incur the prohibition of God. It 
is that quiet and ordinary operation of the 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 destruction of 
multitudes without alarming them. 

12apac% 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, tt is a passion which compels every 
other feeling to its aid ; the day seems too short 



63 FORMS OF 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 wealth of others seems 
to reproach it ; the poverty of others to warn it. 
Determined to gratify itself, it overlooks the 
morality of the means, despises alike the 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 Providence; and the only restraints 
which it acknowledges — though many of these 
it would gladly overleap — are such as our fears 
of each other have erected into laws, for the exr 
press purpose of confining it. within bounds. 

Parsimony is covetousness parting toiih 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 tare 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 
pleasure, and adapted to the taste of every one 
who possesses it. But avarice is content wilh 



FORMS OF COVETOUSNESS. 63 

the bare possession of the essence ; stopping 
short at the means, it is satisfied without the end. 
By a strange infatuation it looks upon gold as its 
own end ; and, as the ornaments which the 
Israelites transferred into the hands of Aaron 
became a god, so gold, in the hand 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,) but the very term miaer 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 ; 

Pirst starved in this, then danmed 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 advfinces ; 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 passions have 
their times of relaxation, but avarice is a tyrant 
which never suffers its slaves to rest. It is the 
fabled dragon with its golden fleece, and with 
Hdless and unslumbering eyes it keeps watch 
and ward night and day. 



64 FORMS OF COTETOD8NVS0. 

Prodigality, though directly opposed to ava- 
rice or hoarding, is quite compatible with cupid- 
ity; and is, indeed, so frequently found ia 
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 ho 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, t1iat they may be prod- 
igal : 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 m an 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 renders be- 
nevolence impossible, and keeps a man con- 
stantly poor towards God. 



SECTION III. 



PREVALENCE OF COYETOUSNESS. 

To the charge of covetousness, under one or 
other of these various forms, how large a propor- 
tion of mankind, and even of professing Chris- 
tiansy roust 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 mostcases^ 
indicates the mournful probability, that the evil, 
besides having taken up its abode within them., 
has assumed 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 a long life maintain, a character for 
liberftliiy and spirit^ while his heart all the time 



66 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNES0. 

goeth afler 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 his absorbed bv his own selfishness. That 
others are indirectly Denefited by his profusion , 
does not enter into his calculations ; he thinks 
only of his own gratification. It is true his mode 
of living may employ others ; but he is the idol 
of the temple — they are only priests in his ser- 
vice ; and the prodigality 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' prosper- 
ity ; 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 
BO 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 



PRBVALBMCE OF OOYETOUSNESS*' 67 

rains OQ him, and still craves for more. What 
but this is commonly meant by the ezpressioQ 
concerning such a man, that ** he is living up to 
his income ? " The undisguised interpretation 
is, that he is engrossing to himself all that be- 
nevolence which should be diffused 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 
himself for all the calls and claims of Christian 
charity. Alasl that so large a proportion of 
professing Christians should be, at this moment, 
systematically incapacitating themselves for any 
thing 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 million. 

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: be 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 resemblb such a character, acquit 
themselves of the charge of covetousness alto- 

7 



68 PRBYALBNOE OF GOVBTOU8NES8. 

gether. Unable to recognise in this disguised 
and distorted picture of the vice their own like- 
ness, they flatter themselves into a belief 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 begrudged, 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 oflen 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 OP C0TETO17SNE8S* 69 

cently on himself for having bestowed a benevo* 
lent mite, as if he had performed an act of piety, 
for which nothing less than heaven would be an 
adequate reward. His soul not only never 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 felt like 
the vicinity of an iceberg, freezing the atmos- 
phere, and repressing the warm and flowing cur- 
rent of benevolence. The eloquent think it a 
triumph to have pleaded the cause of mercy be- 
fore him unabashed ; and the benevolent are 
satisfied if they can only bring away their sacred 
fire undamped from his presence. He scowls at 
every benevolent project as romantic, as suited 
to the mesidian 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 parting 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 
worldiiness. His 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 COTETOUSNBSS. 

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 afler, he resumes his pursuit 
of that vanity 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 
MTould 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 
fiil^ only bl.ej3j3 me with wealth." And his life is 



PRBTALENCE OF COTETOVSNBSf. 71 

arranged, and spent, in strict accordance with 
this confession. In his vocabulary, wealth means 
happiness — the chief good. And in his reading 
of the Holy Scripture, the declaration of our 
Lord is reversed, as if he had said — A man's 
life consisteth in the abundance of the things 
which he possesseth. 

And this representation, be it observed, applies 
to the man whose ideas of wealth are limited to 
a few hundreds, as much as to him whose wishes 
aspire to hundreds of thousands. The poor man 
is apt to imagine that covetousness is a subject 
in which he has no interest— that it is a sin 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 sphere — 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 ; |br 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 efratify 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 flatters himself that he has '' retired from 
the world,'' may still be carrying this abridge- 
ment of the world's influence about with him in 
7* 



72 ' PREVALBNCE OF COYETOUSNESS. 

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 Byjnptoms 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. 
Pur great epic poet, with equal sublimity and 
propriety, gives to it an existence even beyond 



^ 



PftETALENCE OF COVETOUSNB8B. 73 

this world. Recording the history of Mammon 
— the Scripture personification of cupidity — he 
describes him as 

" the least erected spirit that fell 
From heaven : 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 
In vision beatific." 

The moral of which is, that covetousness is one 
of the eldest-born of sin, and a prime leader in 
the Satanic empire of evil ; that no nature is too 
lofly, no place too sacred, for its presence ; that, 
being a universal passion, no enterprise is too 
daring for it to attempt, no sphere too extended 
for its range. 

One of the great objects of the personal 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 other worldly 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 foi'sale. 



r 



74 PREVALENCE OF COYETOUBNESlS. 

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 merjged — the servants of God, and the ser- 
vants of Mammon. To his unerring and om- 
niscient 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- 
practicable, " 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 
lose his own soul ? or what shall a man give in 



PRETALEMCE OF C0VET0USNEB8. 75 

'exchange for his soul ? " Proceeding to the 
mafnsion 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 worldly 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 
presence 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 frequently it came into direct per- 
sonal contact with himself, defeating his tender- 
est solicitudes, and robbing him of souls he 
yearned to save 7 It was covetousness which 
rendered unfruitful so large a proportion of that 
heavenly seed which he had come to sow. I 
was this which begrudged him the anointing fo 
bis burial. It was this which robbed his king 



76 PREVALENCB OF C0VETOUSNE89. 

dom of a subject, just at the moment when *' the 
young man '' appeared to be about to fall into 
his train, and which drew from him the affect- 
ing exclamation, '' How hardly shall they that 
have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven ! " 
This it was which led 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 tern- 

Sle? there he beheld nothing but a den of thieves, 
lammon 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 t Covetousness, in the person of Judas, 



PRETALENGB OF COYETOUSNESS. 77 

looked on him, eyed him askance, and went to 
the traffickers in blood, and, for the charm of 
thirty pieces of silter, 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. 
And have events falsified ^he' 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 
'' thought the gift of God might be purchased 
with money,'' and which literally placed the 
great blessings of the cross at sale. Gradually, 
every thing became a source of gain. Not a 
single innovation, or rite, was introduced, which 
had not a relation to gain. Nations were laid 
under tribute. Every shrine had its gifts ; ese- 
ry confession its cost ; every prayer its charge ; 
every benediction its price. Dispensation from 
duty and indulgence in sin, were both attain* 



78 FREVALENCE OF COVETOUBNESS^ 

able at the sum set down. Liberation from heif,' 
and admission into heaven, were both subject ta 
money. And, not content with following H» 
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 tacast 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 forn>s of selfishness are partial 
in their operation, being either confined to a 
party, or, at most, to an order of character ; but 
covetousness is the sin of humanity ; it is the 
name of a disease which knows no distinction 
o£ 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 armdes 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 



P&£VALENG£ OF cbV£TOUSN£8tf, 79 

local and fitful terrors of nn earthquake^ the 
destructive influejace of the latter is universal 
ajid 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 1 
Its history, is the history of slavery and op- 
pression in all J 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 disposal. Among its 
counsellors are kings, and many of the great 
and mighty of the earth enrolled among its 
subjects. Where are the waters not ploughed 
by its navies 1 What imperial element is not 
yoked to its car 1 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 PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 

of unexplored and unvanquished territory ? 
Scorning the childish dream of the philoso- 
pher's stone, it aspires to turn the globe itself 
into gold. 



SECTION IV. 



THE FRESGNT PREDOMINANCE OF COVET0USNES8 IN BRITAIN. 

This is a subject in which the Christians of 
Britain have more than an ordinary interest. 
For, though no part of the world is exempt from 
the influence of covetousness, a commercial na- 
tion, like Britain, is more liable to its debasement 
than any other. Were it not indigenous to the 
human heart, here it would surely have been 
born ; for here are assembled all the fermenting 
elements, favorable to its spontaneous genera- 
tion : or, were it to be driven from every other 
land, here it would find sanctuary in a thousand 
places open to receiveHt. Not only does it exist 
among us, it is honored, worshipped, deified. 
Alas ! it has — without a figure — its priests ; its 
appropriate 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 has its idol : in some countries 
that idol is pleasure ; in others, glory ; in others. 



^\- 



82 THE PRESENT PRCD0MINANC£ 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 ? " Men who would formerly have demoted 
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 eniploy no 
standard but that of utility ; to enforce her re- 
quirements by no plea but expediemcy, a consid- 
eration of profit and loss. And even the science 
«f 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 
laud 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 trato- 
bearers. 

Statements], like ^i^these may startle the reader 
who now reflects on the subject for the first time. 
Bat let him be assured ** as the first impression 



COTBTOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 

which the foreigner receives on entering England 
is that of the evidence of wealth, 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«> 
sores 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 estaliJishments to 
furnish facilities for the accumulation of wealth. 
The philanthropist complains that generous mo- 
tives are lust 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 



"^complaint must be thought jw^j/ewumaZ. In this 
section, therefore, the writer has had recourse to authori- 
ties which some may consider of greater weight. His 
quotatioQsi are derived principally from Coleriqge^ hay 
SermoASi Bnlwer's England and^ the English^ ^d f^om 
the two, leading Reviews. 

8« 



84 TEH FRB8BNT PREDOMINANCE OF 

eomplains that " commerce has kindled in tho 
nation a universaremolation 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 worth 
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 the social economy, is 
not to be denied. But when it rises to a strug- 
gle in which neither time nor strength is left 



-Mil 



COVETOirSNESS IN BRITAIN. 85 

for higher pursnits ; 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 
basiness, 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 livilig, 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, 
uncertainty, and unnatural Excitement of afgame 
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 



86 THI^ PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF 

poverty by occasional extravagance and display. 
Take the followiDg description of the fact, from 
an eminent Christian moralist, whose position in 
society enabled him to judge correctly, and on 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- 
tainments, 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 Midifierent 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 uaturally 
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 Christianity. 



COVETOVSNSSS IN BRITAIN. 87 

and evil indeed must be thM project, and peril- 
ous in the extreme must be that scheme, which 
they would hesitate to adopt, if it held out the 
remotest prospect of gain. 

The writer is quite aware, and free to admit, 
thait we are, from circumstances — and long 
may be — an active, industrious, 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 
bis 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 absolutely, yet relatively it 
may be said to have declined, to have 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 treasu^ry 
inust be regarded merely as a kind of quit-rent 
paid to the cause of benevolence by the spirit of 
trade, that it might be left free to devote itself 
to the absorbing claims of the world. How 
small a proportion of it is subtracted from the 
vanities and indulgencies of life ; how very little 
of it results from a settled plan of benevolence, 
or from that self-denial, without which, on 
Christian principles, there is no benevolence. 
Never, perhaps, was self-denial a rarer virtue 
than in the present age. 



88 THB PRESENT PREDOlflNANqB OF 

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 ha^ 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 etery 
institution, and every grade of the social system, 
what more is wanting to induce the many to i>e- 
lieve, as sober truth, the ironical definition of ilie 
satirist, that '' Worth roeanstrea/^A — and wisdom, 
the art ofvcquiring it ? " 

" 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. 89 

esteem of a people ; and that according to the 
esteem of a people, is the general direction of 
mental energy and genius." The consequence 
of affixing the highest worldly rewards to wealth, 
is, that to be rich, is accounted a merit, and to 
be poor an offence. Nor is this the worst : a 
false standard of 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 much,'*^^ 
worth just BO 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 J>BBPOMlNAJrCB 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 any thing hut respect. What is ordi- 
narily understood by good society ? Certainly 
the exclusion of nothing bttd but poverty : it - 
may exclude every on<! of the virtues, provided 
there be a sufficiency of wealth. And when we 
speak of making a meeting or a society selectf 
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, each claiming to deserve our 
supreme regard ; but who thinks of disturbing 
the ratified decision of generations, that» of all 
these objects, money is the main chance ? 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 iw 
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 every thing else were 
comparative loss. And the man whos6 gaias 
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 be 



COTBTOTTBNEBS IN BRITAIN. 91 

more nearly approached the creative power 
than any other human being, he is said to be 
waking money; — and having said that, eulogy 
18 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 distri- 
bute it into classes, assigning each respectively 
to its own exciting cause, who can for a moment 
doubt that the amount of excitement arising 
firom 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 1 And 
when it is remembered that this cause is always 
in operation ; that it has acquired a character of 
permanence; that our life is spent under the 
i^eign of wealth ; how can it be otherwise than 
that we should' become its subjects, if not even 
its slaves? When, year after year, the assem- 
Ued 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 table of exchange, it can only 
follow, that the same standard will be generally 
adopted in private life to try individual questions^ 
If the body politic be so constituted that the £x- 
ehange 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; 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 m 
the presence of the idol, without catching the 
contagion of awe, and yielding to the sorcery of 
wealth. 

Are our religious tissemhlies 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 ia 
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 1 " 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 



C0TBT0USNES8 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 7 

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, officers, and members ? too evident a dis- 
position to estimate the prosperity of an institu- 



d4 THB PRC8CNT PREDOMINANCE OF 

tion by the amoant of its funds ? too much of a 
pecuniary rivalry with kindred institutions 1 and 
too little delicacy about the means employed to 
■well the funds, provided only the increase take 
place ? Is it not equally true of the institution 
that " maketh haste to be f ich," as of the man^ 
that it ''cannot be innocent?" 

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 1 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 oo 
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; 



C0TET0USNES8 IN BRITAIN. 95 

whose ordinary charity is single-handed. And 
he feels convinced that the ruling motive of all, 
is, to enlarge the sphere of Christian beneficence 
to the glory of the grace of God. Nor can he 
be insensible to the unkind construction to which 
these remarks, however 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 end, 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 iailed to answer that end ? in other 
words, that the charge of covetousness Ues against 
9* 



06 COVETOUSNESS IN BRITAIN. 

the professors 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 
east a reproach back on the comparative parsi- 
mony of every past year 1 Will not the aug- 
mented liberality of next year reproach the nig- 
gardliness of this 1 



SECTION V. 



THE DISGUISES OF COYETOUSNESS. 

Easy as it is, however, to demonstrate the 
prevalence of covetousness, — ^to convict the in- 
dividual conscience of the evil, to bring home 
the charge personally so as to produce self-accu- 
Bation, is one of the last efforts 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 runie 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 O^ COVETOUNESS. 

lished method of justifying itself; but of coTet" 
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 m 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 ihiog 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 e^^treme. 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 
ppe of their number has violated the rules of 



THB DISGUISES OF COVETOUNBSS. 99 

the body, by secreting more than his share of 
booty. 

But that which constitutes the strength oTcor- 
etousness, is, its power to assume the appear- 
ance of virtue : liice 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 to its 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 ? " 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- 
baling and scorching sun of prosperity ? Besides, 
is it supposable that God intended you to inter- 

*Mrs. More. 



100 THE DISGUISBfi OF C0VETOUNE88. 

pret his grant of worldly prosperity into a dis* 
charge from his 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 emphati- 
cally to labor for the meat which endureth unto 
eternal life 1 You may 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 /lis 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 grace, he gives only when 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 COTCTOUSNBSS. 101 

gives to himself of his conduct, is, that he de« 
sires simply to provide for the future. Wanf is 
his dread. And though, in his aim to avoid 
this evil, he may not distinctly propose to him- 
self to become rich, yet, what else can result 
from his constantly amassing ? His interpreta- 
tion of competence, if candidly avowed, is afiu^ 
ence ; 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 except 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 holy duty and Christian enterprise 
which would take htm a single step out of his 
way to competence. And often is he to be seen 
providing for the infirmities of age long aAer 
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. 
He 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 



103 THB DIBOUI8BS OF C0VKT0U81IXSS. 

of covetoasness." His contentment is only cot* 
etousness reposing self-complacently from its 
toib, resting on its well-filled bags, and saying, 
'* Soul, take thine ease." Let an agent of char-r 
ity approach him with outstretched and imploring 
hand, and, as if touched by Ithuriel^s spear, he 
will forthwith start into his proper character, 
and demonstrate that his contentment depends 
on his keeping his property entire ; at least, thai 
he is not content to give. 

And another, not only most confidently acquits 
himself of all suspicion of selfishness, but e?ei| 
i^>propriate8 the credit of being benevolent, oo 
the ground of his natural sensihuity, A spectar 
cle of suffering harrows up his soul ; and there- 
fore '* he passes by on the other side." An ob- 
ject of destitution afflicts his too delicate sympar 
thies ; and, therefore, he closes his door against 
it, saying, *' Depart in peace, be thou warmed 
and filled ;" 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 5e{f-conimiBera- 
tion. 

Covetousneaa will sometimes indulge itself 
under the pretence of preparing to retire from the 
cares and turmoil of active life. The propriety 



THK BtSGVniS OF OOVETOUSNBSB* 103 

of an early retirement from business, roust 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 hairs, putting him off from time to time 
with dielusive promises of approaching emanci* 
pation. Or else, he retires to spend, in slothful 
and selfish privacy, that which he had accumu- 
lated by years of parsimony. Or else, by ming* 
liog readily in scenes of gaiety and amusement, 
he shows that his worldly aversions related, not 
tathe 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 <o6er 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 j^oren^a/ 
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 Scrip- 
ture, to defend the course he is pursuing, shows 
how acceptable to his numerous class an argument 
would be in favor of hoarding, since these few 
perverted sentences which only seem to sanction 
10 



104 THE DI8G0I8VS OF COTETOVSNEflS. 

it, are his fairorite and most familiar texts. Of 
these, his chosen strong-hold, perhaps, is the 
declaration of the apostle, *' He that providetb 
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 
contigencies, but a present supply of present ne<- 
cessities, a simple maintenance of needy relatives 
from day to day. And, secondly, that, instead 
of countenancing parents in the accuraulatioik 
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 subject of providing for families , there- 
fore, the text in question has nothing te do.< 
Rightly interpreted, we see that it enjoins, not 
accumulating hni giving. IJow 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 merit» 
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~ id 
toiling to place his family ; and tet him call ivk 
the aid of Scripture and of prayer that he ma]f 



THE DISGUKES OF COTETOT7fiNEfl8. 105 

conduct the comparUon aright, and we will not 
fear for the result Let him look around hitt 
neighborhood, and institute a comparison, if he 
«an, between the apparent character and happi- 
ness of the six nearest individuals who have been 
lefl dependent^, under God, on their own exer- 
tions for respectability and support, and the six 
who have been lefl 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 be brought the king- 
doms of the world and the glory of them to the 
Saviour's feet? I^t him remember, not only 
that he is to leave his children behind him 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 



\ 



N 



T&STS OF C0VBT0USNES9. 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 covetousness in my 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 tfou now, for the first time subject- 
ing your heart to a thorough inspection on the 
eubject ? but ought not this simple fact that you 
are doing it now for the first time, to excite 'your 
lauspicionSy and prepare you to find, that, while 

la* 



X 



' ! 



/■' 



X 



^ / 

/ TESTlil OF COVETOfTSNESS. 

e been sleeping, the enemy has been 
ow .. ^ tares in your heart ? Taking it for 
granted that you are living in the habit of com- 
munion with Ood, you no doubt advert, from 
time to time, in the language of lamentation and 
confession, tS 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? — ^When last did you deprecate it? 
when last were you eaifnest in prayer for a spirit 
of Christian liberality ? 

Your station, property, or mental character 
invest you, it may be, with a measure of author- 
ity and influence ; do you ever employ t)iat pow- 
er to oppress, and to overrule right? Are you, 
what the poor denom\nB,te , kard-hearted? capa- 
ble of driving a hard bargain ? rigid and inex- 
orable as an Egyptian task-master in your mode 
of conducting business? enforcing every legal 
claim, pressing every demand, and exacting ev- 
etj obligation to the- extremest point of justice ? 

Are you, what is commonly denominated mean? 
cutting down the enjoyments of those dependent 
on you to the very quick ? never rewarding ex- 
ertion a tittle beyond what is "in the bond 1 " 
doling out requital for services with so niggardly 
a hand, that Want alone would submit to your 
bondage f 

Can you " go beyond, and defraud another in 
any matter?'^ Do not hastily resent the ques- 
tion; for only remember, first, the multiplied 
laws which already exist against fraud ^ and the 



TBBT8 OF COVETOU8NES8. 109 

• 

iBsufficiencj of this vast and complicated appara« 
tus as implied in the continued labors of the leg- 
islatare 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 of 
escape through the.finest nettoark of hntasin legis- 
lation. Then, again, bear in mind the grievous 
but acknowledge fact, that two kinds of moral- 
ity 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 deem^ a thousand things 
justifiable in business, which in private life 
would be condemned. Now, we take it for 
granted that 70a would not violate the law ; th&t 
you would shudder at the bare shadow of dis- 
honesty ; — but do you never avail yourself in 
business of the ignorance and weakness of oth- 
ers 1 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 1 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 1 — and dl this for 
the sake of a little paltry gain ? 

Providence, perhaps, has assigned yoa a sta- 



110 TBSTS OF COTETOUSNB8S. 

• 

tion in society, which, though it leaves many' 
below you, places numbers above you. Are you 
content with the allotment ? If jou regard your 
own situation with dissatisfaction, and the supe- 
rior advantages of others with envy, and speak 
dispciragingly 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 vvealih 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 alNgrasping 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 hearty-r^o you find that 
your heart, when left to itself, sympathizes 
more cordially on this poidt with your Master or 
with the world ? The s^^me 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 
^taad apart from the irreligious in this respect 1 



TBSTS OF COTETOUSNESS. Ill 

If their conduct proves that they have no God, 
does yours prove that you have one ? 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 for your appearance in the 
closet, in the sanctuary, at the post of Christian 
usefulness and benevolence, but returns to mourn 
yourabsence^ — where then are you to be searched 
for with the greatest likelihood of being found ? 
At the ahars of mammon 1 amidst the engrossing 
cares and services of the world ? 

Does not the dread of a petty loss, or the 
prospect of a petty gain, fill you with emotions' 
beyond what the magnitude of either would 
warrant 1 And were a comniittee of the wisest 
and the best of men to sit in friendly judgment 
on your worldly affairs, would they not be likely 
to pronounce that your mind might be safely dis- 
charged of all that solicitude which now disturbs 
it, and be left entirely free for the service of 
God 1 You confess that God may justly com- 
plain of you as slothful and unfaithful in his ser- 
vice ; — would Mammon be justified in urging a 
similar complaint! or, rather, may he not boast 
of you as one of his most diligent and exemplary 
servants 1 Are you providing more earnestly 
for the future moments of time than for the future 
ages of eternity l Are you spending life in pro- 
viding the means of living, and are you thus 
living to no end 1 Are you preparing to depart ? 



112 TESTS OF COVETOUSNB88. 

or would death find you saying, *' Sou], take 
thine ease?" counting jour 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, th^ one bright with gold, but beset with 
temptation ; the other less lucrative, but rich in 
religious advantage;}, — 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 the perils at- 
tending the possession of wealth, does the seed 
fall into congenial soil ? or, is it necessary, as 
often as the subject is introduced, that the speak- 
er should reproduce his '* strong arguments,'' in 



TESTS OF C0VET0USNES8. 118 

order to reproduce foil conviction in your mind T 
Which, think 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 1 

You may sometimes find yourself passing a 
silent verdict of praise or blame on the pecuni- 
ary conduct of others : now, when you see an 
individual more than ordinarily careful of his 
money, do you regard him with a feeling of 
complacency ? when you hear his conduct con- 
demned, are you disposed to speak in his de- 
fence ? or, when you see a person prodigal of 
bis property, is your feeling that of astonish- 
ment, as if he were guilty of a sin which you 
could not comprehend ? 

It is hardly possible that the temperature 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 suffered n6 decrease of genuine sensibili- 
ty 1 that you are qtiite 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 them ? 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 TBST8 OF COYETOUSNBSB. 

adver^e^ have your gifts been decreased onlp 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 1 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 multiplica- 
tion of your comforts 1 living under the domin- 
ion of the inferior appetites? us 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 1 



TSflTS.OP COYSTOUSirUt. 116 

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 7 did you retire, that 
you might do more good than before 1 and are 
you doing it ? did you look out for a sphere ia 
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 ? ^e 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 1 " 

You may hear occasionally of a munificent 
donation made unexpectedly by Christian grati* 
tude to the cause of G/)d ; — what is your first 
emotion at the report ? — admiration of the act ? 
and gratitude to the grace which produced it? 
—or a fueling that the donor has unnecessarily 
exceeded the rules 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 atmosphere for the bud to unfold in ? or, 
would the first emotion expressed in your coun- 

11 



116 TSIT8 OF COVETOirSNEflS. 

tenance be a chilling doubt, or a biightingy 
withering frown? 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 t has 
it always to be reminded ? does it need to be 
urged ? does it never anticipate the appeal, and 
run to meet its object 7 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 ? 
and is that little parted with reluctantly, with a 
half-closed hand, as if you were discharging a 
doubtful debt on compulsion t 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 ? not 
only calculating beforehand how much you can 
spare, but frequently remembering it afterwards t 
pluming yourself on the benevolent exploit 1 
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 self- 
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 



TB8T8 OF GOTETOUSNSSS. 117 

nothing flatter 70a into the persuasion that 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 brought 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 man 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, J^sus 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 TSSTB OF COTBTOUSNESS. 

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 thej 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 GUILT AND EVILS OF COVETOUBNEBS. 

Of the lore 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 niiracle 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 fiour- 



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 shall not covet." Such is the lan- 
guage of that command which not only concludes, 
but at the same time 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 and every covetous act 
is, in effect f an infraction of the whole law. 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 



i^V-W«V^^IV 



OF C0VST0U8N£S8. 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 ascendancy 
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 1 
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 aapervad^ 



123 THE GUILT AWD 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 covctousness." Of Tyre it is said, 
** By thy great wisdom and by thy traffic hast thoa 
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, " Woe 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 COVETOU8NSSS. 123 

hand hath found as a nest Ihe riches of the peo» 
p]e ; and as one gathereth eggs that are left, have 
I gathered all the earth." How vividly does 
Jeremiah depict its atrocities in the unbridled 
conduct of a Jewish king ; ** Thine eyes and 
thine heart are not but for thy covetousness, 
and for to shed innocent blood, and for 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 obtaining it by artifice, subornation, and 
murder ? 

Covetousness in rulers, leads to bribery and in- 
justice. " Thou shalt 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 lucf e, 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 
migh 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 for 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 40 depreciate the thing which he wishes to 
purchase, and the seller to employ '* divers 



134 THE GUILT AND EVIL^I 

weights and measures/' — ^thus generating fraud, 
falsehood, and injustice : while in both it leads 
to an impious impatience of thesacred restraints 
of the Sabbath, inducing them to say, ''When 
will the new moon be gone, that we may sell 
corn 1 and the Sabbath, that we may set forth 
wheat 1 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 V* 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 engagements 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 all 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 t^ foulest actSy and the 
most fearful results^ that have stained the history 
of man. Some of these we have already named. 
Oppression, violence, ahd murder, hare been 
among its familiar deeds. " Woe to them that 



OF COTBT0D8NB88. 135 

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 take 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 ** taught 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 successfiil, 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 merchandise in the mystical Babylon 
were seen ** the souls of men." 

The Scriptural classification oi this sin is il- 
lustrative of its vile and aggravated nature ; 
for it stands associated with 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 view 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." 

Covetousuess 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 OOTETOUBNE88. 137 

bMsters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to pa- 
rents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affec- 
tion, truce*breakers, false accusers, incontinent, 
fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, 
heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure more 
than lovers of God." 

In the last quotation, covetousness is described 
as more than an attendant evil of the apostacy^ 
it is one of its very elements. In the following 
places it is identified with idolatry :*-'' Fornica- 
tion and all un cleanness, or covetousness, let it 
not be once named among you, as becometb 
saints ;• ... for this y^ 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." "Mortify 
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 identifies it with adultery, ** Ye covet, 
and have not ; .... ye ask, and receive not, be- 
ctkuse ye ask amiss, that ye may consume jt 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 
threefold law of Christian duty, personal, social, 
and divine, but it stands connected with each of 
the opposite series of vices* *' For from within, 

12 



198 THE QUILT AND EVILS 

oat 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 1 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 covetousness 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 
fail 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 lie is violating the most sacred 
obligations to God, that he is committing adull« 
ery 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* 



190 THB GUILT AVD EVILS 

And yet, fearful as it is, the apostle Peter inti-* 
mates that eovetousness is apostacj. And from 
the fifth part, we learn that eovetousness repeals 
the entire law of love; that it proclaims war 
against all the virtues included in living ** sober- 
ly, righteously, and godly," and is in sworn cod<- 
federacy with all the opposite sins included ia 
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 df society ; shown itself 
capable of the foulest acts ; is described as oc* 
eupying 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 COVETOUSNBSS. 181 

has the worst sins for its appropriate emblems, 
and its nearest kindred, and *' all evil " in iti 
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 finds its way, as by instinct, through all the 
intricacies of the great laj^yrintb 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, 
oovetoosness 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 hare no tears. With ■ more 
thao 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 swarm 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 
namber of those who were not to be found either 
triumphing in its van or suifering in its train,) it 
has, more than any oth^ conqueror, realized 

12* 



133 TBI OVIJLT AND ET1L8 

the ambition of gaining the whole world, of 
establishing a universal empire. From the first 
step of its desolating course, its victims began 
to af^al 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 Tocal with 
woe, and their cries have ascended, <' and enter- 
ed into the ears of the ^ord of Sabbaoth." ^' 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. Dortog each of 
these moments, it^ accumulation, of pelf is only 
an aooumulation *' of wrath against the day oi 
wrath." And when those dreadfol stores sbaU 
be finally distriboted among the heirs of wrath, 
covelousn^ss 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 Govetousness, let us proceed to consider 
some of the specific evils which it inflicts oa 
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 begia by adverUng to the fact, that it 



OP COVSTOUfllKflS. 188 

detains numbers from Crod. Careful and troub- 
led about many things, they entirely neglect 
the one thing needful. The world retains them 
so effectually in its service, that they have no 
time, no heart, to spare for religion ; and though 
some of them at times may cast a wistful glance 
in that direction, and even steal a visit, in thought, 
to the Savior's feet^ yet, like their prototype in 
the gospel, they " go away sorrowing," for the 
fipell of mammon is upon them. 

As to the professor of Christianity, the evil in 
<|uestion operates to his injury, partly by engaging 
80 much of that energy for the world, the whole 
of which would not have been too much for re* 
iigion. The obstacles to the salvation of a man 
Are so numerous and formidable, that the Scrip- 
tures represent his ultimate success as depending 
OB his *' giving all diligence to it." In the econ- 
omy of salvation, thereibref God graciously un- 
dertakes to watch over and provide for hia tem- 
poral wants, that, being reKeved from all dia* 
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 be aevets and sends the greater 
propoitiQB of bis strength in an of^posite direc- 



134 TH£ GUILT AND EVILS 

tioD. 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«uch a mind, 
would be to look for grapes from thorns, and figs 
from thistles. 

Nor does covetousness operate \e»s 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 1 Man is 
that impotent traveller, and wealth is the staff 
which offers to support his steps. Hence, in the 
word of God, it is repeatedly intimated that to 
possess riches^ and to trust in them, is one and 
the same thing, except where grace makes the 
distinction. The term mammon, for instance, 
according to its derivation, imports whatever 
mm are apt io confide in. The original term for 
faith is of the same derivation, and for the same 
reason — because it implies such a reliance on 
Grod 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 Liord 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 COVBTOU8NB8S. 135 

as the danger of riches consisted in trusting in 
them, 80 the difficulty of possessing them, and 
not trusting in them, is next to an impossibility 
— a difficulty which can only be surmounted by 
omnipotent grace. 

Now, to trust in any created object, is to par- 
take of its littleness, mutability, and debasement. 
But money is a creature of circumstances, the 
sport of every wind ; the Christian mammonist, 
therefore can onij resemble the object of his 
trust. By choosiitg a heavenly treasure, and 
making it the object of paramount regard, he 
would have gradually received the impress of its 
celestial attributes ; but * by giving his heart to 
earthly gain, he identifies himself with all its 
earthly qualities; lets himself down, and adapts 
himself to its insigniiicance ; 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. He hears, without 
questioning, our Lord's declaration concerning 
the danger of riches ; and yet, though he is al- 
ready laden with the thick clay^ and is daily 
augmenting his load, he doubts not of passing 



136 THE OUILT AND EVILS 

through the eye of the needle, as a matter of 
course. He professes to be only the 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 
it965 dear unto them, provided they might serve 
the cause of Christ ; and yet he almost endures 
a martyrdom in sacrificing a pittance of his 
monetj 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 su(^ 
fering. He prays for the world's conversion, 
and yet holds back one of the means with which 
God has intrusted 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 hi« 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 COTETOUSl^BSS. 137 

sinfal indalgences, bat he is restricted to this 
single gratification. As a Christian professor, 
be niast abstain from intemperance, licentious* 
ness, and profanity ; but worldliness is a sphere 
in which he may indulge to a certain extent 
without suspicion, for the indulgence comes not 
within human jurisdiction. If he would be 
thought a Christian, he must not be seen ming- 
ling in certain society, nor indulging in a certain 
€lass 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 
^endor of his equipage, or the luxury of his 
table. Accordingly, the only apparent dilTerenee 
between him and them, is — not in the greater 
moderation of his earthly aims, nor in the supe* 
xior simplicity of his tastes, the spiritual ele?a- 
tioR of his pursuits, the enlarged benevolence 
and Christian devoted ness 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 hot joining them by pursuing his grat- 
ification as eagerly in another. The loss of one 
of the bodily senses, it is said, ({uickens the per^ 
ception of those that remain ; worldliness alone 
remains to him, and that is quickened and 
aUreogthened by perpetual exercise. All that is 



138 THB GUILT AKB BTILs' 

an8&ncti6ed in his nature flows from the feuntaiit 
of his heart with the greater force, that it baa 
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- appearance* 
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 be 
may be said to belong to one of the ** stricter 
sects " of the world. 

CoTetousness generates discontent; and thi» 
is an element with which no Christian grace can 
long be held in affinity. It magnifies trivial 
losses, and diminishes the most .magnificent 
blessings to a point ; it thinks highly of thte 
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 itsF 
little circle of decent selfishness, in which it moi^ 
murs on account of what it has not are always 
louder than its thanks for what it has. ** Let 
your conversation," therefore, says the apostle, 
*' be without covetousness, and be content with 
such things as ye have.'' " Godliness, with con* 
tentment, is great gain." 

Covetousness neutralizes the effect of the 
preaching of the gospel. The Savior saw this 
abundantly verified in his own ministry ; and his 
parable of the sower intimated, that his mink^ 
ters would see it exemplified in theirs also. The 
judgment of the hearer, it may be, is convinced 



OF C0TBT0USNES8. 139 

of the dif inity of religion ; 'he feels its power, 
and trembles ; he beholds its attractions, and is 
captivated. And could he, at such times, be 
detached awhile from his worldly pursuits, and 
be closely plied with the melting and majestic 
claims.of the gospel, he might, by the agency of 
the Holy Spirit, be induced to lay up for him* 
self a treasure in heaven. But the seed has 
fallen among thorns ; ** The cares of this world 
and the deceitfulncss of riches choke the word, 
and render it unfruitful.'' His impressions are 
written in sand ; and no sooner does he leave 
the house of God, than his worldly plans and 
prospects come back like the returning tide, and 
utterly efface them. 

Closely allied with this evil are formality and 
hypocrisy in religion. "They speak one to 
another, every one to his brother, saying, ComOi 
I pray you, and hear what is the word that Com- 
eth forth from the Lord. And they come unto 
thee as the people cometfa, and they sit before 
thee as my people, and they hear thy words, biit 
they will not do them: for with their mouth 
they show much love, but their hearts goeth after 
their covetousness.' ' To the eye of Omniscience 
they .present the hateful spectacle of so many 
pieces of solemn formality going through the at- 
titudes Ind signs of devotion, but destitute of all 
corresponding emotions within. He asks lor 
the hear^ alone ; but they have brought him all 
except 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 worldlj 
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 r«st, for 
the world does not tire hirn, or tires him only as 
a fatiguing pleasure to which he is anxious to 
return with renewed zest. And, until he can 
80 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 nis 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, 
when adopting the religious rites of the sons of 
Jacob : " Shall not their cattle, and their sub- 
stance, and every beast of theirs, be ours ? " 
But as the ruling principle of hi? 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 OOVBTOUSNKBS. 14l 

again reclaim, and swear tbem to allegiance 
afresh. '* Thej 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 touching 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 aAer, they 
have erred from the faith, and pierced them* 
selves through with many* sorrows." And how 
likely is it that Buny^n 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 ata 
silver mine '^'m 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 I am not certain ; 
but this I observed, that they never were see» 
again in the way" 

But where covetousness does not lead the pro- 
fessed believer to open 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 THK GUILT AND EVILS 

idolatry. The genera] impression on hearing 
this proposition is, that the term idolatry is only 
employed by the apostle in an accommodated 
sense — that covetousness is only figurative idol- 
atry. But in the figure lies its force. There 
is not more essential idolatry, at this moment, 
on the face of the parth, than that which the av* 
aricious man pays to his gold. The ancient 
Persian, who adored the sun only 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 ; in each instance, the homage of 
the heart is in the stead of all outward prostra- 
tions. And does not his gold receive that 1 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, interceptiug, 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 00TETOU8NE88. 148 

God from his view, engrossing his thoughts to it- 
selfy 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 God ? 
If it possessed the power of reading his heart 
towards it, would it not find its image enshrined 
there ? and a degree of afiection lavished on it, 
and a closeness of communion maintained with 
it^ such as a god might accept ? His covetousnes9 
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 office who have taught erroneous 
doctrine as zealously as if it had been true; 
and, secondly, by obtruding others who have 
taught an orthodox creed, with which they had 
no sympathy, as coldly and heartlessly as if it 
bad 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 proph' 
esitdfalsdy^ because the people loved to have it 
80, consulting the depraved tastes of those who 
would not endure sound doctrine ; the latter have 
consulted only their own tastes, which sought 
no higher gratification than the sordid gains of 
office. " Woe unto them ! .... for they have 
run greedily after the error of Balaam for re- 
13* 



144 THB GUILT AND EVIL8 

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. Both alike have been *' greedy 
of filthy lucre ; have obtruded 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 tern- 
p4e 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." 
*' Woe unto them ! " 

The magnitude of this evil is further apparent 
in the fact, that it has not only threatened to 
frustrate the design of the Christian Church, as 
the instrument of the world's conversion ; hut 
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 cob- 



OF COTSTOI70NS88»' 145 

Terting the world, is evident from the final com- 
mand which he gave it, to go and preach hie 
gospel to every creature. That the execotion 
of this sacred trust would be endangered prin« 
cipalJj 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 ; fyr 
the first sin of that church in Canaan, as we 
have remarked already, was in the accursed thing ^ 
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 1 its 
veryjirst sin consisted in one of its members 
keeping hcLckpart 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? The unrepealed 
command of Christ has been known to its mem- 
bers ; they have had the means of carrying it 
extensively into effect ; millions of their fellow- 
creatures have been passing into eternity, age 
after age, unsaved ; but their talent, meanwhile, 
if not hid in a napkin, has been multipli^d 
chiefly for their own use. Their worldly proa* 
perity has so completely eogrossed themit thai 



146 THE GUILT AND EVlLfl 

they have thouglit it quite sufficient to attend to 
their own salvation, while the world around them 
has been left to perish. \{ 

If this be innocence what is guilt? If this be 
venial negligence, what is aggravated criminali- 
ty ? It is a sin which exceeds all computation. 
Let it be supposed that at some past period in 
the history of Britain, news had ieirrived 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 starvation. 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 advantage here present themselves ; 
the spirit of gain takes possession of them ; they 
are inclined, solicited, prevailed on, to remain. 
Their original object of mercy is forgotten ; the 
stores of life with which they had been intrusted 
are used and bartered as if intended onlj for 



OF COTBTOV8NE88. 147 

themselves; and thus an enterprise of benefit 
Cfsnce on which God had smiled^ sinks into a 
base mercantile adventure. 

*' But the supposition is impossible ; if anj 
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 realized, and far, far exceeded. The 
world was perishing; the compassion of God 
was moved ; the means of salvation were pro* 
Tided — and, O ! at how costly a price I — ^the 
church was charged to convey them without de» 
lay to her dying (ellow*men, and to pause not in 
her 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 directness and speed with 
which the church prosecuted her task. Jesus 
beheld the travail of his soul and was satisfied. 
Souls were snatched as brands from the burning. 
But a change came over her conduct. The 
spirit of the world returned, and cast a spell on 
her movements. Continents were yet to be 
visited, and millions 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 beeD 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 saj 
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 COTBTOU8NX8S. 149 

having no aims or desires but sach as wealth 
coald gratify; and, consequently, bending all 
your endeavors afler it. Subsequently, however, 
you profess to have undergone a change ; and, 
when they hear you describe the nature of that 
change, or hear it described for you, they hear 
it said that you have at length found the pearl of 
great price ; that you have been put in possession 
of a good which renders you independent of all 
inferior things, and which enables you to look 
down with scorn on those objects about which 
you have been so eager and selfish, abandoning 
them to such as know no higher good ; that 
henceforth your treasure is in heaven, and there 
will your heart be also. 

They hear this, and arc 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 
yon may have adopted, they know not ; but they 
will readily acquit you of all ingratitude to your 
^rst 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* 
j€ct 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 jeproached with the 



160 THB GUILT AND EVILS 

tenacity of jour grasp on wealth, and denounced 
for your devotiqn to self and your want of devo- 
tion to the cause of your new adoption, how can 
they be otherwise'than confirmed in their opinion 
that your profession is hypocrisy, and all religion 
only a name ? And the effect is, to deepen the 
sleep into which they have sunk in the arms of 
the world; 

We all know the persuasive power which the 
example of the martyrs and early confessors of 
the cross exercised on those who beheld it. 
Their entire dedication of their property and 
lives to the cause of Christ, struck at the very 
throne of Mammon. Numbers awoke as from a 
dream ; for the first time suspected the 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 wilFnot 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 ihem frcrni Christ, than to 
win them to him ? And is this thy kindness to 
thy friend ! Has He who died for you de(9erved 



OP 00VET0USNES8* 151 

this at your hands ? He intended that, by the 
evident subordination of your property to him, 
you should proclaim to the world your conviction 
of his divine superiority, and thus aim to 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, b^ disparag- 
ing and forsaking the only true standard of et^ 
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. 

The determinate influence of money, we say, 
slppears 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 



/ 



152 THE OaiLT AND EVILS 

thousand actions are made legal, and have be- 
come familiar, though at evident variance with 
the divine code. The authorities they plead, 
are such as custom^ convenience, example, utility^ 
expedience ; ** Yet their posterity approve their 
sayings/' And their highest sanctions are, the 
fear of loss, and the hope of gain ; for *' God is 
not in all their thoughts." In his kingdom, the 
safety of 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 1 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 classifioa- 



OF COVETOUSNfiSS. 153 

• 

tions to human character and society; — ^the 
whole resulting in a kingdom in which a divine 
authority is unacknowledged, and from which 
every memento of the diving presence is jealously 
excluded. 

Now, one of the leading purposes of God in 
instituting a church, is, that, in the midst of this 
awful confederation of evil, he might have a 
people perpetually protesting against the pre- 
vailing apostacy. For this purpose, he gives 
them himself, that, by admitting them to the 
, Fountain, he might raise them, before the eyes 
of the world, to an independence of the streams. 
And, for the same purpose, he gives them a 
portion of earthly property, of that common 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 effectually than by assuming the most 
marked badge, or by making the most ostenta- 
tious profession ; they would be employing the 
only argument for the reality of religion which 
the world generally will regard, which it cannot 
resist, and which would serve in the stead of all 
other arguments. Many things there are wfaieh 



164 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 religion may 
be subordinated to gain ; but that gain should 
be sacrificed to God, is a mystery which no ar- 
ticle in their creed, no principal 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, thej 
have conspired to frustrate the design of its in- 
stitution. Their property, which was meant to 
fiirnish 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 
flame maxims. By virtually falling down before 



OF COTETOUSNBSS. 155 

the golden image which the world has set up, 
they have thrown opptobrium on the voluntary 
poverty of Christ, obscured the distinctive spirit- 
uality of his kingdom, brought into question the 
rery rea ity 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. 



TBE DOOM OF COySTOUSNEaS. 



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 ? or at 
the solemn threatenings which a holy God de- 
nounces against it t The description of the sin 
which we have already given, so evidently in* 
Tolves 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^ 
naunces 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 ahalt not look covetously. It does 
not merely speak to the hand, and say, thou shdU 
not grasp covetously ; thou shaU not steal : the 
law had said this before. But, instead of wait- 



THE DOOM OF COVBTOU8NBS1. 157 

tog for the eye and the hand to do this, it goes 
in to the heart — *' for out of the heart proceedeth 
oovetousness "—and it says to the heart, " thou 
shalt not covet." And hence saith the apostle, 
** I had not known the sinfulness of inordinate 
deaire 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 
flin. 

CoVetousness is a sin which, more than most 
vices, bring* with it its (nm 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 JtUhj^ lucre — 
leading through miry ways to reach them, and 
polluting (he hand that touches them ; that they 
are uncertain riches — always winged for flight * 
—so delusive and unsubstantial that they are notf 
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 

* Thus the Greeks spoke of Flatus, the god of riches, as 
a fickl§ divinity ; representing him as blmd, to intimate 
that he distributes nis favors indiscriminately ; as lame, 
to denote the slowness with which he approaches; and 
winged, to imply the velocity with which he flies away. 



158 THE DOOM OF COYETOCflNESS. 

a snare, and piercing them through with many 
sorrows;" and thus, in their very nature, thej 
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 
Crehazi, or the fate of Judas, the secret of their 
punishment is explained when the Almighty de- 
dares, *' For the iniquity of his covetousness 
was I wroth, and smote him." And what do we 
behold in every such infliction but an earnest of 
its coming doom ? the scintillations of that wrath. 



THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNSSB. 159 

the flashes of that distant fire which is kindled 
already to consume it 1 

And not only has he punished it ; he is visii^ 
ing and denouncing it at the present moment* 
** Woe 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 ! 
Thou hast consulted shame to thy bouse by cut- 
ting off 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- 
iy shall reproach him for the grasping injustice 
of the means by which it was reared. Mysteri- 
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 spectre of his 
own guilty conscience ; it shall be the prison* 
house of justice till he is called to the bar of 
God ; instead of defending him from evil, it shall 
seem to attract and receive all dreadful things to 
alarm and punish him. 

The law of God is still in the act of condemning 
covetousness. The fires of Sinai, indeed, have 
ceased to burn, and its thunders have ceased to 
utter their voices ; but that law, in honor of 
which these terrors appeared, is in force slill ; 
that law which said, '*Thou shalt not covet," 
is burning 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 ZHMM OF C0VET0USNES9. 

renewed heart ; it is inscribed by Providence on 
every object of human desire, to warn us of 
danger as often as our eye rests on them. And 
if, heedless of that warning, we yet pursue those 
objects to excess, and put forth our hand to take 
them — ^if then the terrors of another Sinai do not 
kindle and flash forth upon 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 world, 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 C0TET0CSNE8S. 161 

punished, its grosser degrees have every thing to 
fear. Here, for example, is a covetous man of 
whom the wicked speak well — a proof that he is 
not rapacious or avaricious, for a person of such 
a stamp is commended by none — and yet God 
abhors him* And who can conceive the misery 
of being abhorred by the blessed God ! How 
large a proportion of the suffering which the 
world at present contains might be traced to 
God's detestation of this sin ; and, probably, 
since the guilt of the sin goes on rapidly 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 
he]] at this moment, points to this sin as its 
origin I 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 appalling type ! 

But '' behold, another woe comet h 1 " Anoth- 
er seal is yet to be opened, and Death will be 
seen, toith Hell follotoing Mm, It is of one of 
the classes of the covetous especially that the 
apostle Peter delares, " 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- 



16S THE DOOM OF COTETOUSNE88. 

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 thejast 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 wrath 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 he 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 im* 



THE DOOM OF COVETOUSFTXBS. 163 

{dies that he has a cause in the world — the 
cause of humaa salvation ; and that all who do 
not practically attach themselves to it, deny 
themselves on account of it, love those 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 hand of the Judge, is not of the 
seandalous kind. Had not the Judge himself 
described it, we might have supposed that this 
fearful position would be ocoupied 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 worldling whom our 
lord denominates a fool 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 ? or, where 
is the man that does not commend him, and take 
him for a model t But he had '' laid up treas- 
ures" only "for. himself, and was not rich to- 
wards God : " and therefore is he summoned 
soddenly to appear as a guilty criminal at the 



164 THB DOOM OF COTETOUSNESS. 

bar of God. And thay who do not now learn 
the moral of his history — '' to take heed and be- 
ware of covetoQsness " — are here represented as 
finally sharing his doom. They may have beea 
as free as the reader from all the grosser Tices* 
They may have had many negative virtues, like 
him, and have often boasted that they did uo 
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 iilamured 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 toill 
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 Grod 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 DOOM OF COVETOUSNESlB. 165 

draw the lightning down. The exposure of his 
trust shall excite the scorn and derision of the 
universe. " Men shall clap their hands at him, 
and shall hiss him 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 iromort&I being should have been guilty of 
such an enormity, will suspend all pity in the 
minds of tlie 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 thd 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 OOTKTOUfiMESS. 

it is the operation of a known 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 a^aU^ 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 mao, 
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 bis treas* 
ares 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 



THB DOOM OP COVETOVSNESS. 167 

another centre than 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 COVfiTOUSNESS FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERAUTT. 

In his solema descriptioo 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 bearings, and ultimate efl!ects, 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 qften given to the claims of benevolence ; 
I am in the habit of contributing €U others do; 
I consider that I am benefiting the community 



EXCUSES OF GOVETOUSNE88. 109 

a» much, if not more, by spending than bj giv- 
ing ; I give <is much cls I conveniently can; had 
I more to bestow, I would certainly give it ; and 
1 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 examinap 
tion. You have given, you say, to the cause of 
Christian philanthropy. But it may be inquired, 
when have you given ? Has it been onl'if when 
jour sensibility has been taken by surprise 1 or 
when a powerful appeal has urged you to the 
duty ? or when the example, or the presence, of 
others, has iefl you no alternative 1 or when the 
prospect of being published as a donor tempted 
your ostentation 1 or when importunity annoyed 
you 1 or when under the passing influence of a 
fit of generosity ? We would not too ouriouslj 
analyze the composition of any apparent virtue ; 
nor would we have you to suspend the practice 
of charity till you can be perfectly certain that 
your motives are unmixed. But we would 
affectionately remind you that if you have given 
to God at such times onltjj it proves to 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 OF COYETOOSNESS 

the insane, so jour 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 1 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 
they may keep their all. They pay this insignia 
icant fraction in tribute to a clamorous con- 
science^in order that they may buy oflf the great 



FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 171 

bulk of their wealth, and quietly consume it on 
their selfishness. Her greatness of soul, her 
magnanimous benevolence, held the Savior of 
the world in admiration, and drew from him 
words of complacency and delight. 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? 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 proportion 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 inquire — have you ever reflected whether 
or not others have adopted the right standard of 
benevolence ? The "amount of property devoted 
by the Christian public to God is annually in- 
creasing : does not that imply that Christians, at 
present, are only 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 COYETOUSNESS 

rule immediatelj 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 rules, passed the 
prescribed limits of benevolence. 

We have supposed that you not only plead the 
example of others, but that you are also ready to 
add, "I contribute as much as T conveniently 
canJl 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, whether what 
is generally understood by personal convenience, 
is precisely the kind of arbitrator to which a 
Christian can safely refer the amount of his 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 benevolent uses all 
that your present rate of expenditure happens to 



FOR ITS WANT OP LIBERALITY. 173 

leave anapppopriated to other objects. But here 
again two questions arise : if your expenditure 
is calculated and reduced to a plan, ought not 
the question, how much shall I devote to God f 
to hare 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 CrcBsus himself might 
find it convenient to give but little in charity ? 
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? 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 withdrawn 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 wlio should 



174 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESfl. 

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 
solvedthis problem scripturally andconseienttoas* 
ly before God, it is not for man to sit in judg- 
ment on your conduct. 

But if you have tiot — 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 Christiaii 



FOR ITS WANT OF LIBBRALITT. 175 

i 

liberality to which you are urged is not that in- 
discriminate alms-giving which would encourage 
idleness and improvidence. The introduction of 
such an ideals quite beside the question in hand. 
The charity which you are called on to exercise 
is sucb 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 ia 
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 ^ight 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 COTETOUSNESS 

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 the 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 unproductive 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 thede, the farmer must 
raise the price of his produce ; in order to pur- 



FOR ITS WANT OF LIBBRALltT. 177 

chase that, the laborer must receive increased 
wages ; and the consequence is, that that large 
number of the human family whose means of 
subsistence are precarious, experience an increas- 
ed difficulty 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, prevents leisure, and 
thua 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 superfiuities, would 
you not be justified in spending more upon them ? 
Ought it not to become a serious question with 
you, whether or not you are spending enough 
upon them I whether it be not your duty to spend 
all you can upon them 1 to withdraw even that 
small modicum which you now dispense in char- 
ity, and to devote that also to " the pride of life ? " 
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 support, 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 God, not a particle of that 
credit can properly accrue to you. Besides, if 



ITS IXCUSES OF COVET01J8N18S 

they do right in thus taking their property to 
God, are not you doing wrong in taking your 
property from him ? and will not their conduct 
be cited against you in condemnation 1 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 sel ^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, yon 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 ? 
or are you not actuated rather by a love of self- 
gratification ? 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 OF UBERALITY. 179 

yoor eternal state, it may endanger your safety, 
and aggravate your condemnation. If it be true 
that 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 ? 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 
flesh, the desire of the eye, and the pride of 
life ; and their tables covered with the same 
luxurious viands that are in ordinary use with 
the men of the world. This self-indulgence, 
and worldly conformity 9 and vainglory, althoagh 
16* 



18Q BZCV8VS OF COVETOtJSNESi 

at variance with the spirit and principles of the 
gospel, seem to find jast as much favor in their 
eyes as with other people." 

** But had I more wealth to hestow, 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 
Qncertainties ; 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- 



crease." 



Nee Crcssi fortuna wujuam^ iiec Persica Regna 

The cure you need consists, not in the increase 
of your wealth, but in the reduction of your de- 
sires, and the conscientious management of 
your present income, as a faithful servant of 
Jesus Christ. Till this be e£fected, the aug- 
mentation of year 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- 



FOB ITS WANT OF LIBERALITT. 181 

ual who professes to desire opulence only for the 
sake of having more to bestow, and who makes 
that 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 benevolence. 
The charity required at your hands at present, 
is oaly 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 inidnight 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 m 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 hare made arrange- 
ments to be charitable at death, A life of be- 



182 KZCUSBS OF COTETOUSNEBS 

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 reli- 
gion till your last hour, is guilt of the deepest 
dye : can it be innocent, then, to defer the 
practice ofoneof its 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 charily, 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, *Uhe 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 1 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 making your charity to con- 
sist only in testamentary bequests, you are cal- 
culating on the certainly and stability of that, 
which has become the very emblem of change 
and uncertainty. 



FOR ITS WANT OF LIBBRALITT. l83 

What you are proposing'to defer till the peri- 
od of your natural death, the 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 property, 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 they may 
receive you into- everlasting habitations ; but, 
liowever 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, 
a)3 such, they will wear the aspect of upbraiding 
and repYoach. 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, that multiplication 
will have yet to commence, for your talents will 
only just then have emerged into the light ; you 



184 EXCUSES OF C0VET0USNES8 

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 ihe death of half the Christian world 1 
so completely is that conduct at variance with 
^he 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 would take the liberty of recommending 
an excellent little work, cjilled " Testamentary Counsels," 
published by Ward and Co.; containing much on the 
subject of charitable bequests, that is entitled to the serious 
attention of the Christian reader. 



FOR ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. .185 

ought to be set apart for beoevolent purposes is 
more clear to any disinterested, consistent Chris- 
tian, than it is to the testator himself. 

Have you not reason to suspect that such is 
the 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 1 And yet, small 
as it is, it is your will. In discharging your 
testamentary duties, you naturally remember 
those persons and objects which hold the dearest 
place in your affections ; — 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 tlie 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 happin.ess shall arise from the right em* 
ployment of that property is your will. 

This robbery of the Christian cause, remem- 
ber, is your toill; — not a mere passing thought, 
not a precipitate, unconsidered act ; but an act 
which you formally preface with saying, that you 



186 EZCV8ES OF COTBTOUSMBflS 

perform it *' being in sound mind/' — in a word, 
it is the deliberate actrof that so?ereign 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 tot'//, which you 
are content to have for a dying pillow, and oo 
which you propose to rest your dying head ! 
Your will — and therefore a part of your prepam- 
tionfor death ! Your will — avowedly prepared, 
(monstrous inconsistency !) that the subject of 
your property matf not disturb you in death ! that 
you may be able to think of it with peace I 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-«eat, 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 ailow 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 OP LIBERALITY. 187 

It is impossible to look at the existing state of 
the finance of the Redeemer's empire, without 
perceiving that the entire system of Christian 
charity 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 
Li«— , 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 
seif*>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 imploringattitudeof 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, a rev^ 
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 enterj[Hrise 

17 



188 EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNB8S 

might have been, had we only acted qp to our 
conviction of Christian liberality ! What could 
have stood before a spirit which evinced a i^eadi- 
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. '^ (jod, 
even our own God, would have blessed us '' — 
would have gloried to own such a people, and ta 
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 lK)unded 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 weight, 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 LIBERALITY. 189 

common foe. Bat, though avowedly warring 
with the world, have we not taken a wedge of 
gold, and bidden it in the camp 1 If the pres- 
ence of one Achan was sufficient to account for 
the discomfiture of Israel, can we be surprised 
at the limited nature of our success, when every 
tribe of our Christian Israel has its Achan, and 
almost every tent its '* accursed thing ? " Has 
not the cupidity of Christians made the very 
profession of disinterested benevolence to be 
laughed at by the world, and to be suspected 
even among themselves t 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 from 
the church, that they would eye him with an 
astonishment which would prove that, if sympa- 
thy be necessary to comprehend his conduct, 
they must remain in guilty ignorance. Is there 
not reason to conclude, that many a noble offer- 
ing has 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 OF C0TET0USNE88 

have been added) they dreaded the charge of 
singularity, or ostentation, to which their liberal- 
ity would have exposed them. And if many a 
human gifl 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 foi* 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 oa 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 Ipseth or disturbeth the victory. 

And the variety of ways in which it operates 



FOR ITS WANT OP LIBERALITY. 191 

to this effect, might supply us with an answer to 
those who may fancy that we are ascribing too 
muph to the influence of weahh, and overlooliing 
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 ifs potency of evil. Prayer 
is its appointed antidote : but it keeps the Chri»- 
tian from the closet, or else divides his heart 
with Grod 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 professors,^ 
whether during those rare moments when they 
have caught a glimpse of ihkt self-dedication 
to Christ, which he claims at their hands^ li^ 
17* 



192 EXCUSES OF COYETOUSMESS 

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 1 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 y 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 donsistentlj 
employ such to convert the world ; especially, 
too, as that conversion includes a turning from 
covetousness ? Not, indeed, that his cause is 
necensarily 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 bis 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 
roust be in harmony with his own character — and 
what is that but the very antithesis of selfishness, 
infinite benevolence ? He regulates those means 



FOft ITS WANT OF LIBERALITY. 193 

by laws ; and one of those laws is, that '' from 
him that hath not shall be taken away even that 
which ho 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 coming 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 his kingdom by miracle ; or, 
you might have warrantably come to his throne 
to implore the means 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 cosily self-gratification. For 
what purpose has he placecf 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 OF C0VETOUSNE8S 

you were to be seized with a noble generosity, 
like that which at different times descended on 
the anci^t 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 bles- 
sing, 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 LIBERALITr. 195 

cient belieTers, that " God was not ashamed to 
be called their God." And the reason assigned 
is, that, instead of coveting earthly possessionsi 
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 hearv« 
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 7 His spirituality 
— could the world infer that from any remarka- 
ble abstraction from earth apparent in their con- 
duct 1 or is there any thing in the manner and 
extent of their liberality which would remind the 
world of his vast unbounded benevolence 1 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 OP GOVETOtTSHBSS 

could he honor them in any distingaished man- 
ner before the world, without indorsing 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 thai 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 bless 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 
tiiat 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 
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 attei^ded with the most se- 
rious inconveniences — ^inconveniences, that is. 



FOR ITS WANT OF LIBEKALITT. 



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 
pietj has jet to be raised many degrees ; that 
plans will be executed for the diffusion of the 
gospel, which have not yet been imagined ; 
that efforts and sacrifices will yet be 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 LIBERALIT7 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 ev- 
ery new expedient for augmenting the funds of 
benevolence 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 LIBERALIT7 EXPLAINED. 

annually to announce, — all concur to show, that 
the church is not only dissatisfied with its past 
parsimony, but is gradually awaking ta 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 LIBERALITT BXPLAINMD. 903 

wants and worldly compliances, without deplor- 
ing that the art of wasting it by the most expe- 
ditious methods, should exhibit, as it does, the 
finish and completeness of a system. The art of 
using it, so as to make it produce the greatest 
measure of happiness, still remains to be 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 spiriti to inquire his toill on the suIh 
ject. This, of itself, would be gaining an im- 
portant step. It would be proclaiming a wide 

18» 



304 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 Crod, 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 practical^ 
repealed this principle, and trampled it under 
foot, that the spirit of benevolence has almost 
been lost from the church. While the practical 
recognition of this single principle, simple as it 
is, familiar and admitted as it is in words, would 
of 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- 
]y new. The solitary principle, that we hold our 
property/ as subordincUe events 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 wrought 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 \yill 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 lie not have been frequently 
recurring to the will 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 toUl 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, the pnit- 
dple 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 which 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, fof 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 
Grod. 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 heaven, 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." 

That which constitutes the superiority of 
evangelical piety, as a self-propagating and dif- 
fasive 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 ihe eyes of the Christian himself, even 
his own acts and offerings of charity, must bear 
evident relation to Christ, or receive the con- 
demnation of his own grateful heart. In the 
exercise of a holy jealousy for his blessed Lord, 
he is led to scrutinize his motives, to trace his 
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 ihe< godlike en- 
joyment of doing good ; and, by teaching him 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EZPLAINID. "^^209 

hat is, upon a deliberate comparison of our for- 
uoes with the reasonable expenses and expecta- 
ions of our families, to compute what we can 
-pare, and to lay by so much for charitable pur- 
•oses." 

To take, indeed, a weekly account how God 
•ath prospered us, is not in all cases possible ; 
'Ut the spirit of the direction would be equally 
itislied if, on taking the account at other stated 
.mes, we only lay by for God as he hath pros- 
ered us. Owing to the want of a plan like this, 
i]e cause of Christ is often an unwelcome and 
n unsuccessful applicant; selfishness, which 
las always the advantage of being able to be the 
irst claimant, squanders in superfluities what 
onscience would have devoted to God; and 
nany, it is to be feared, from not having where- 
vith to answer the calls and impulses of charity, 
>s they arose in the heart, have at length lost 
ne very disposition to do good. While the ad- 
antages arising from the adoption of such an 
irrangement 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; bis 
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 CHEISTIAN LIBEBALITT EXPLAIN BD 

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 sue* 
eessful, must be conducted on system ; and why 
should not the book which records the occasiomd 
and the regular contributions of charity be kept 
I and inspected as carefully as the leger of trade 1 
Covetousness plans for selfish purposes ; and 
why should not benevolence counter-plan, and 
organize ita 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 lowe 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 811 

be permitted to answer this question, and assign 
the amount, there is no reason to fear a too 
£(canty allowance. On the other hand, if self- 
ishness be suflTered to decide, there is ground to 
fear that even an inspired reply, could such be 
obtained, would be heard only to be orerruled. 
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 handis, indeed, a claim upon 
their property, but leaves the question how much f 
to be determined by themselves. In assisting 
them to fill 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 
tnuch owest thou unto thy Lord 7 " " 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 ad the basis of all our calculations on 
this subject. " For I the Lord love judgment, 
1 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 satisfied, he may warrantably sacrifice 
the whole remaindier to himself, the Christian 
views it only as a preparation for sacrificing to 
God. 

19 



213 CHRISTIAN LIBSRALITT BXPLAINBD. 

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, jR>r 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 Christian would surely 
rather exceed than fall short of the exact amount. 
WUh whom is he stipulating ? For whom is he 
preparing the offering ? 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 Chris^. 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 

Stop to calcolate the value of its alabaster box of 
precious ointment — that is an act to which only 
a Judas can stoop — its chief and sole regret is 
that the unction has not a richer perfume, and a 
higher value. When a Zaccheus finds himself 
standing, a sinner saved by grace, in the pres- 
ence of the Being who has saved him, he ex- 
claims, '' Behold, Lord, the half of 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, 
^as enthroned in his heart ; but now it is beneath 
his feet. A moment ago, wealth was his idol : 
tmt now its only value consists in furnishing him 
"With an offering of love to Christ. What things 
were gain to him, those he counted loss for Christ. 
And as the great principle of love to Christ 
will not allow the more opulent to give scantily, 
so neither will it permit the poorest to come be- 
fore him empty. It was one of the divine enact- 
ments even of the legal dispensation, — None 
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 offering, or a leaf 
ibr 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 reflect 
on its iinitableness. Nor 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 minisiered 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 recdve.'* 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 id- 
moner, may create the evils which it meant to 
destroy. 



CBEISVUN LIBBBALITY EXPLAINED. 215 

If there be anj 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 fromi 
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 perishing 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 among the most 
19* 



916 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 Hinn 
who in his way to the cross, to save a world, 
often stood still to give health to the sick, and 
to wipe away the tears of the mourner ; sowing, 
at each step, the seeds of those various institu- 
tions of mercy which are still springing up in his 
church ; and who, while suspended on ihte 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 objects soliciting his aid, render 
selection indispensably necessary. On the one 
hand, he must not confine his regards to objects 
purely religious, though of the loftiest and most 
comprehensive order, to the neglect of that 
charity which draws out its soul to the hungry, 
and which visits the fatherless and widow io 
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, diffa*' 



CHBiSTIAN LIBBRALITT EXPLAINS D. 217 

sing and multiplying them over the whole field 
of mercy. By a wise distribution of his means, 
he may connect himself with all the objects of 
beneficenoe, 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 two extremes, he will con- 
scientiously consider which are the charities that 
call for his especial aid, and the proportion of 
support which each demands. 

But who does not feel that the era of effectire 
Christian benevolence has yet to commence ? 
Let him sketch the most simple scheme of benev- 
olence which the gospel can approve, and he 
will perceive at every step that he is writing the 
condemnation of the church. Compared with 
the time, indeed, when next to nothing was con- 
tributed to the cause of Christ, we may now be 
said to give much ; but, compared with what 
ought to be, and with what we are persuaded 
fffUl 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 LIBBRAL1TT BXPLANED. 

plain passages of Scripture to be made ; doctriDes 
startling to selfishness to become familiar and 
welcome ; sentiments already familiar to be en- 
larged and practically applied ; the word henevo^ 
lence itself to be difierently understood ; the 
demon of coTetousness to be cast out of the 
church ; and the whole economy of bencTolence 
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 ? Prophecy 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 her song. 
" To him shall be given of the gold of Sheba." 
'* The merchandise of Tyre shall be holiness 
to the Lord ; it shall not be treasured nor laid up." 
'*Surely the isles shall wait for me, and the ships 
of Tarshish first, to bring thy sons from far, 
their silver and their gold with them, unto the 
name of the Lord thy God." '' Kings shall 
bring- presents unto him;" ''they shall bring 
gold and incense ; " and into his kingdom ** they 
shall bring the glory and honx>r 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 applied is to 
employ it for God : that is the only way to dig- 
nify that which is intrinsically mean ; to turn that 



CHRISTIAN LlBSftALITY EXPLAINED, 219 

which is perishing into unfading crowns and 
imperishable wealth. As if the image and su- 
perscription of Christ instead ofCsesar — as if the 
hallowed impress of the cross itself were visible 
on all thp currency of earth, his people shall look 
oti 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 ^hall 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 oew 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 besides, will be honored as 
truly charitable. 



S22 CflRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAiNSD. 

great majority of Christian professors also, the 
, blame of great improvidence ? But, then, her 
conduct shall be regarded as exemplary ; and tbe 
Savior himself will undertake the defence of her 
imitators, and say, *' They loved much, for they 
have much forgiven." 

Now, i 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 as a fortunate escape; but then he 
will do good as he hath opportunittf—cresiiing 
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 wiling of themselves." 
Instead of being charitable only on comparative 
distraint, he wilt often anticipate application, 
an surprise the agents of beneficence by unex- 
pected gifts ; thus strengthening their faith in 
God, and inciting them to enlarge their designs 
for tbe kingdom of Christ like the same believ- 
ers of whom the apostle records, that, instead of 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAIKBD. 2S3 

needing to be solicited, they entreated him to ac- 
cept their contributions — '< praying us with much 
entreaty to accept the gift.'' Like the happy parent 
of a happy family, he 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 that his own enjoy- 
ment is identified with its growth and prosperity. 

And let it not be supposed that during that 
happy period it will be necessary to the sup- 
port of the Christian interest that its friends 
should live in a state of comfortless selfnlenial. 
The 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, happy period ! Holiness to the Lord shall 
be written not only on common things, but on 
those which men have been accustomed most 
jealously to withhold from God, and to consider 
their own. Even the mines of the earth shall, in 
a sense, be ceded to Christ; "the God of the whole 
earth shall he be called ;" and *' every one shall 
20 



224 CHRIBTUN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED* 

submit tberoseives unto him with pieces of silver." 
He shall be considered the wise man, not wha 
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 tl^eir god, shali 
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 alt the sumptuary 
laws which were ever enacted to restrain the 
extravagance of society. The cause of Christ 
will be viewed as the only safe repository of 
wealth ; as the great interest in which the af- 
fluent will invest their abundance, and in which 
the poor will deposit their mite, 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 LlBERAUrr ENFORCED. 

And why should the delightful period to which 
ve have adverted, when the gospel theory of 
Ohristian benevolence shall be realized, be 
•deemed remote 1 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 
heaven. The great considerations with which 
the gospel has long since made us familiar, are 
the identical motives which will then reign and 
triumph. Remote, therefore, as that era may 
be to the eye of the indolent and the selfish, the 
consistent believer will not think of waiting for 
its arrival before he begins its duties ; he will 
feel that those duties are all present and urgent. 
May a review of the tehder and weighty consid- 
erations by which they are enforced fill him with 
generous and grateful purposes such as he never 
felt before ; and may God the Holy Spirit, the 



226 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCKD. 

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 of the right which he has in all you pos- 
S€S8, 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 own, 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 1 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 
afi-esh 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 LIBBRALITT ENFORCSD. 327 

'^Thoa roust reroennber the Lord thy God, for it 
is he that giveth thee power to get wealth." 
Hence he cautions you against the sin of saying 
in your heart, ** My power, and the might of 
mine own hand, hath gotten me this wealth," 
lest you should fall into the 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 midst of 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 they 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 glory, and thus daily vindicate his 

20» 



398 CIIRItTIAN LIBBRALITT SNFORCED. 

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 ? 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- 
aions. 

THink of the great goodness you enjoy at hia 
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 aiound you ? " He 
crowneth thee with his loving-kindness and 
tender mercies ; " and, wearing the crown of his 
royal favor, his sovereign love, will you confine 
its light to yourself? will you not proclaim and 
honor the royalty of your descent by humbly 
imitating his regal munificence and grace ? He 
has placed you in a world of which his own 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 overfiowing 
fulness of the ocean — the amplitude of the all- 



CHRISTIAN LIBEBALITY BNFOftCEP. -^^S9 

encompassing air — ^the uncon fined plenitude of 
the light — all conspire to attest the infinite ex- 
uberance 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<<iay in the solitude 
and darkness of a dungeon, and had you now 
just come forth into the open theatre of the vast 
creation, and awoke for the first time to the full 
consciousness of all this infinite goodness, would 
not your heart enlarge and expand with all 
warm and generous emotions ? Could you 
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 ? 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 ? 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 
mtnd 1 The Lord Jesus himself calls on you to 
be meroiftil even as your Father in heaven is 
merciful. 



230 CHRISTIAN LIBBKALITT BMFORCBD. 

But hitherto we hare been standing only on 
the threshold of the temple of his goodness. 
The great display, the " unspeakable gift " 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 so loved the world, that he gave his only 
begotten Son." " Herein is love 1 " 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 pra- 
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 1 " 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 LIBBRAUTT ENFORCED. 231 

Nor is tbis all : he invites you to advance 
from the altar of sacrifice to the holiest of all 
^ within the veil ; — ^in other words, he hath given 
you Christ that he may give you himself. It 
was by wandering from him that man first 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 Boul, man sought to accumulate all 
kinds', to monopolize every thing — he became 
selfish. He is disposed to look on every thing 
which another enjoys, as so much lost to him- 
self — as so much taken away from what might 
otherwise have fallen to his own share; and 
thus he is selfish. But the blessed God, by 
offering to bring you 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 need not be selfish ; for were 
all the universe to share and enjoy it with you, 
it would still be an' unexhausted infinite fulness 
of happiness. 

Now, let the most miserly individual come 
suddenly into the possession of great wealth, he 
would be conscious, at least for a short time, of 
kind and generous emotions. What then should 
l|^e your emotions at discovering that, through 
Christ, you have found a God ? and think, what 
a God he is ! Enumerate his perfections ; call 



1282 0HBI8TIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 

up in your mind his exalted attributes ; recollect 
some of the displays of bis glory, the splendors of 
his throne, the amplitude of his dominions, the 
angelic orders of his kingdom, the richness of 
his gifls, 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 t 
have you yet awoke to a conscious possession of 
your infinite wealth 1 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 difference in your conduct? 
Will you be as covetous with a God as without 1 
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 the no- 
ble employ, and from love to his name. 

The obligations which his love has laid you 
under are as great as theirs. But how much 
less, it is to be feared, have you felt them. 
And yet they felt them less than their magnitude 
would have warronted. For when their eman- 
cipated spirits had ascended from the scene of 
martyrdom to heaven — when they there awoke 
to a clear perception of the hell they 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 for the first time. And is all that 
weight of obligation at this moment resting upon 
you 7 O, where are the numbers which shall 
compute it ? What is the period long enough 
to recount it ? •' What can you render unto the 
Lord for all his benefits?" 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 sacrHices? Had he not conde- 
scended to invite the offering, 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 firaction of that wealth as an expression of 
your love to his name. Let this^ then, dignify 



234 CHRISTIAN LIBBRAUTY RlirORCED. 

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 
commands. 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 of- 
ten 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 ia not only never omitted, but always takes the 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 235 

lead. In all general descriptions of piety, the prac- 
tice of this duty is specified as a chiei'element. It 
is declared to be the most acceptable expression 
of our love to God. The choicest 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 youf 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 mil 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 be 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 welUregulaied 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 fruit shall be our own. '* He who 
soweih 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 of 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?— and that his people should g\se him 
so little opportunity of illustrating his paternal 
character by trusting their temporal affairs more 
completely to his hands ! 

Spiritual prosperity is inseparable from Chria- 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 237 

tian liberality. For *' God loyeth 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 practise 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 afiection 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 secure ? place it in the hand of omnipotent 
Faithfulness. Retain it in your possession, 
and it is tha proper emblem of uncertainty ; 
but devote 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 enjoy 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 Grod 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 ail that thou 
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 grow in. grace? 
in love and likeness to Christ ? Would you in- 
crease with all the increase of God ? and abound 
in the fruits of the Spirit 1 *' Tlie liberal soul 
shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be 
watered also himself." Would you be rich for 
eternity ? Would you cultivate " fruit that may 
abound to your account" in the invisible world ? 
Invest your property in the cause of Christ ; and 
he engages to requite you, — not, indeed, as of 
debt ; this the magnitude of the requital shows, 
but of his 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 ail that you may hereafter cast into 
his treasury, shall certainly precede your arrival 



CHRISTIAN LIBBRALITY 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 offspring of God's blessing, entailing on them 
the divine displeasure, leaving them heirs of the 
punishment which his own robbery of God has 
deserved. This is improvidence of the most 
awful kind. But let your regard for their wants 
be combined with a proportionate regard for the 
claims of benevolence, and you will be demising 
to your offspring that rich, that inexhaustible in- 
heritance, 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 immortal. 

Would you acquire a right in your property ? 
a right which shall justify you in calling it your 
own? By 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 1 gave away remains 
with me." 

By the practice of Christian liberality, ike 
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 1 " 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 your professed subjection unto 
the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal distri- 
bution unto them and to all men." The new- 
born liberality of the first Chfistians 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 

require time and circumstances 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 1 it was supernatural ; the apostle, 
therefore, emphatically denominates it the grace 
of God. So spontateous 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, the 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 high 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 without feeling its own selfishness con- 
demned, without secretly bowing to the divinity 
of religion. 



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 daily 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 ? 
copy the example of " the churches of Macedo- 
nia " in their abundant liberality ; 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 

Of the poor it is said^ that he who ,. , 
eth them reproacheth his Maker — charges God 
with injustice for permitting theui 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 with promises direct from God. 
And thus, though God meant to employ the rich 
as his agents for the poor, to bind them to each 
other by the constant interchange of gratitude 
and benevolence, and to illustrate and honor his 
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 ought to lay down our lives for 
the brethren." "But whoso hath this world's 
good, and seeth his brother have need, and shut- 



r 



244 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 

teth up his bowels of compassion from him, how 
dwelleth the love of God in him ? " How can 
the love of Christ inhabit that bosom, which is a 
stranger to sympathy for his people ? Ill indeed 
does ht 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 been from eternity in the 
bosom of the Father, he shows us the Son of 
God divesting himself of his glory; and then, he 
detains our eye in a prolonged 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 humbling 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 1 Ought such a Master to be served by 
grudging and covetous servants 1 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 verif reprehensi- 
ble, or very unaccountable, considering that he 



^6 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 

gare 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 aev« 
er failed to introduce this motive ; he relied on 
it as his main strength ; he brought it to bear 
upon them in all its subduing and constraining 
force. 

And how tender, how pointed, how melting 
the appeal which he makes. *' Ye know the 
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he 
was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that 
ye through his 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 throne and the cross. You know for whom 
he did this ; for his enemies, his destroyers. 
You know that he did this voluntarily ; that he 
was under no necessary obligation to endure 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 look he 
was only gratifying the compassionate yearnings 
of his own heart ; that he assumed life 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 sell-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 might 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 ihis ; 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 sufficient 
to transform selfishness itself into disinterested 
22 



248 CHRISTIAN LTBERALITT ENFORCED. 

love. But you know it experimentally. Yoa 
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 ? Can you believe that he died for 
you ? that, in dying, he wore your name upon 
his breast ? that his heart cherished the thought 
o^ your happiness? that he made himself poor 
to enrich you 7 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 happi- 
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 1 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 f 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 that you possess you should employ 
for his glory. You enjoy a portion of this world's 
goods ; consider the use which he would have 
madie of it, and copy his divine example. 

Did he not only employ his heavenly powers, 
but actually deny himself, suffer, die for your 
happiness 1 He pleased not himself. He en* 
dured the cross, despising the shame. He pour- 
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 I That was compassion. 
That was looking on the thiags of others. That 
teas 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, you know his grace, — you feel it. 
How much owest thou unto thy Lord 1 Do you 
ever attempt to compute the mighty sum ? 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 
benignity and love, he inquires, *' Lovest thou 
me ?" And as he points to that portion of your 
property which ought to be devoted to his cause, 



260 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 

he asks you again, " Lovest thou me more than 
this ? ** If so, devote it to my cause, consecrate 
it to my service. And he saith unto you the 
third time, ** Lovest thou me ? " 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 1 shall I not behold in them the 
travail of my soul and be satisfied ? By the 
love you bear to me, and by the infinitely 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 thaty 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 bought 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 ofyour^ 
self includes the surrender of your property. 

It is related in Roman history, that when the 
people of Collatia 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 1 " And on their replying, " 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 1 that you are his by the 
tenderest, weightiest obligations? And when 
you feel thus, 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 
oieutal reservation in favor of that ! 
22* 



252 CHRISTIAN LIBKRALITr ENFORCED. 

Can you think of the blessedness attending 
the act itself of the dedication to God, — that jou 
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 Sod, 
his Spirit, his heaven, he Himself, all become 
yours, to the utmost degree in which you can 
enjoy them; — can you think of this without often 
repeating the act ? without feeling that had you 
all the 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 ; Lebanon would 
not be sufficient to burn, or the beasts thereof an 
offering large enough to satisfy the cravings of 
your love. 

Think, moreover, of the high 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 world. 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 253 

" God 80 loved the world that he gave his only 
begotten Son " to redeem it. The object, in- 
deed, for which he was given was, like himself, 
infinite ; an object which never can be shared, 
and which never need be repeated. But the 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 which 
prompted him to give Christ ; it is to be viewed 
as nothing less than a symbolical representation 
to the world of that unspeakabU gift. He is 
not that gift, but is sent to bear witness of that 
gift ; not merely to announce it with his lips, 
but to describe and commemorate its fulness 
and freeness in his own character. Like his 
blessed Lord, he is to look upon himself as 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 benevolent agency of heaven 
and earth to be put into motion, in order to do 
justice to the purposes of his love ; and he has 
called you into his service in order to increase 
that agency. Surely, yoa 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, by living only to yourself, by wasting your 
property on yourself as fast as he gives it to you, 
leaving the world 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 ? 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 ] ** What do ye more than others ? " 

Consider also the happy influence 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 
churches — and you will be conscious of a delight 
which an angel might be grateful to share. God 
himself is the happiest being, because he is the 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 3S5 

most benevolent ; and you would then in the 
most exalted sense be holding fellowship with 
him ; you would understand experimentally the 
saying of our Lord Jesus Christ, that ** it is more 
blessed to give than to receive ; " you would 
make all the beneficence of the world your owOf 
by the complacency with which you would be- 
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 ; how brief the hour for benefiting 
them ; how mighty the interest pending on that 
short hour ! Look where you will, your eye will 
encounter signals to be active ; myriads of ob- 
jects, in imploring or commanding attitudes, 
urging you to come to the help of the Lord, to 
the help of the Lord against the mighty. 

The church calls for it. It has many an agent 
of mercy to send forth, if you will but aid to fur- 
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 
harvest of the heathen world, which Providence 
seems to have prepared and to be keeping for its 
sickle : — will you not aid to send forth morejla- 
borers into the harvest ? It has been slumbering 
at its post for ages ; it is now awaking to an 
alarmed consciousness of its neglected responsi- 
bilities, and, as it counts up its long arrears of 
duty, it hastens to atone for the past by institut- 



250 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 1 A proportion 
of its guilt is lying upon you ; — will you not aid 
it to retrieve the past ? and assist it to recover 
and present to the world its primitive aspect of 
love and zeal ? 

The Christians of apostolic times call for it. 
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 o( inking joi/fully 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 anjr 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 LIBBRALITT ENFORCED. 257 

heaven. At that thought, they not only rejoiced 
themselves, they 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 intervening days of 
trial and pain ? They thought not of such 
things ! What, 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 stilly 
while they were engaged in a scramble with the 
world to obtain it. The vision of heaven was in 
their eye ; and, until they reached it, their Lord 
had engaged to provide for all their wants, and 
had engaged to do this solely that they might 
give their undivided attention to his service. Of 
doubts and fears about their personal interest in 
his love they appear to have known nothing; 
that is a disease peculiar to the morbid and 6el£> 
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 you pro- 
fess to have descended ? do you claim relation- 
ship to them ? profess to represent them ? Bend- 
ing from their seats of blessedness above, they 
urge, they beseech you, to cast off the worldly 
spirit in which you have hitherto indulged, and 



358 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EMFORCCD. 

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. Muse 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 thronp ; in the midst ol a redeemed, 
sanctified, happy creation. All things sacred to 
his name; all tongues rehearsing for the last 
great chorus of the universe ; all hearts united 
in holy love, and in that love offering themselves 
up as one everlasting sacrifice ascending before 
him in its own flames ; new heavens, and a new 
earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. And is 
it possible that your agency can contribute to 
accelerate that blessed period 1 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 Grod ; by the rich- 
es of his goodness towards you in nature, provi- 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 259 

fience and grace ; by the sacredncss of the com- 
raaads which he has laid upon you ; by a legiti- 
mate regard for your own well-being ; and by 
the credit of that religion whose honor should be 
dearer to you than life, — we beseech you, 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 selif-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 cros», 
" 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 fi-eely 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- 
alleled 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 Grod to be employed in his ser- 
rice, 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 heaveih, — 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 the practu 
cal effect of the truths which have been made to 
pass before you ? 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 sy st em ^ lose no time in devising 
one. 

Are you a stranger to self-denial in the cause 
of charity ? Then, remember that benevolence, 
with you, has yet to be begun ; for, on 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 thai selfishness by which you have hith- 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 261 

erto absorbed so much of that property in worldly 
iadulgencies, 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 th^ 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 loveth a cheerful 
giver." 



HASKIS, John 
Kanmtoa: 



6M 

H^Uma 
1837 
cop.l 



1 



IttBKIS, John 
j Kajnmon: 

I H}lluna 

I 1837 

cop.l 



.r 



