unkind an accusation. He takes the dead child 'out of his mother's bosom, and laid him upon his own bed; and he cried unto the Lord, and said, O Lord my God, hast thou brought evil upon the widow with whom I sojourn, by slaying her son? Is this the reward of all her charity and goodness? Thou hast before this robbed her of the dear partner of all her joys and all her cares; and now that she is a widow, and has most reason to expect thy protection, behold, thou hast withdrawn her last prop; thou hast taken away her child, the only stay she had to rest on.-And Elijah cried unto God, and said, O Lord my God, I pray thee let this child's soul come into him again.' The prayer was urgent, and bespoke the distress of a humane mind, deeply suffering in the misfortunes of another; moreover, his heart was rent with other passions. He was zealous for the name and honour of his God, and thought not only his omnipotence, but his glorious attribute of mercy, concerned in the event; for oh! with what triumph would the prophets of Baal retort his own bitter taunt, and say, 'his God was either talking, or he was pursuing, or he was on a journey; or, peradventure, he slept, and should have been awaked'! He was, moreover, involved in the success of his prayer himself: honest minds are most hurt by scandal; and he was afraid lest so foul a one, so unworthy of his character, might arise among the heathen, who would report with pleasure, Lo! the widow of Zarephath took the messenger of the God of Israel under her roof, and kindly entertained him; and see how she s rewarded! Surely the prophet was ungrateful; he wanted power, or, what is worse, he wanted pity.' Besides all this, he pleaded not only the cause of the widow, it was the cause of charity itself, which had received a deep wound already, and would suffer still more, should God deny it this testimony of his favour. 'So the Lord hearkened unto the voice of Elijah; and the soul of the child came into him again, and he revived. And Elijah took the child, and brought him down out of the chamber into the house, and delivered him unto his mother; and Elijah said, See, thy son liveth.' It would be a pleasure to a good mind to stop here a moment, and figure to itself the picture of so joyful an event. To behold, on one hand, the raptures of the parent, overcome with surprise and gratitude, and imagine how a sudden stroke of such impetuous joy must operate on a despairing countenance, long accustomed to sadness! To conceive, on the other side of the piece, the holy man approaching with the child in his arms,-full of honest triumph in his looks, but sweetened with all the kind sympathy which a gentle nature could overflow with upon so happy an event! It is a subject one might recommend to the pencil of a great genius, and would even afford matter for description here, but that it would lead us too far from the particular purpose for which I have enlarged upon thus much of the story already; the chief design of which is to illustrate, by a fact, what is evident both in reason and Scripture, that a charitable and good action is seldom cast away ;. but that, even in this life, it is more than probable that what is so scattered shall be gathered again with increase. 'Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many days. Be as a father unto the fatherless, and instead of a husband unto their mother, soshalt thou be as a son of the Most High, and he will love thee more than thy mother doth. Be mindful of good turns, for thou knowest notwhat evil shall come upon the earth; and when thou fallest thou shalt find a stay. It shall preserve thee from all affliction, and fight for thee against thy enemies better than a mighty shield and a strong spear.' The great instability of temporal affairs, and constant fluctuation of everything in this world, afford perpetual occasions of taking refuge in such a security. What by successive misfortunes, by failings. and cross accidents in trade, by miscarriage of projects,-what by unsuitable expenses of parents, extravagances of children, and the many other secret ways whereby riches make themselves wings and fly away,-so many surprising revolutions do every day happen in families, that it may not seem strange to say that the posterity of some of the most liberal contributorshere, in the changes which one century may produce, may possibly find shelter under this very plant which now they so kindly water. Nay, so quickly sometimes has the wheel turned round, that many a man may live to enjoy the benefit of that charity which his own piety projected. But, besides this, and exclusive of the right which God's promise gives to protection hereafter, charity and benevolence, in the ordinary chain of effects, have a natural and more immediate tendency in themselves to rescue a man from the accidents of the world, by softening the hearts, and winning every man's wishes to its interest. When a compassionate man falls, who would not pity him? who that had power to do it, would not befriend and raise him up? or could the most barbarous temper offer an insult to his distress without pain and reluctance? so that it is almost a wonder that covetousness, even in spite of itself, does not sometimes argue a man into charity, by its own principle of looking forwards, and the firm expectation it would delight in of receiving its own again with usury. So evident is it, in the course of God'sprovidence and the natural stream of things, that a good office, one time or other, generally meets with a reward. Generally, did I say? how can it ever fail? when, besides all this, so whose little contracted heart melts at no man's Was fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils. Let no such man be trusted. large a share of the recompense is so inseparable even from the action itself. Ask the man who has a tear of tenderness always ready to shed over the unfortunate; who, withal, is ready to distribute and willing to communicate,-ask him, if the best things which wits have said of pleasure have expressed what he has felt, when by a seasonable kindness he has made the heart of the widow sing for joy.' Mark then the expressions of unutterable pleasure and harmony in his looks, and say whether Solomon has not fixed the point of true enjoyment in the right place, when he declares that he knew no good there was in any of the riches or honours of this world, but for a man to do good with them in his life.' Nor was it without reason he had made this judgment. Doubtless he had found and seen the insufficiency of all sensual pleasures; how unable to furnish either a rational or a last-proofs of it, yet it is not to be doubted but that ing scheme of happiness; how soon the best of them vanished, the less exceptionable in vanity, but the guilty both 'in vanity and vexation of spirit.' But that this was of so pure and refined a nature, it burned without consuming: it was figuratively 'the widow's barrel of meal, which wasted not; and cruse of oil, which never failed.' It is not an easy matter to add weight to the testimony of the wisest man upon the pleasure of doing good; or else the evidence of the philowhose sopher Epicurus is very remarkable, word in this matter is the more to be trusted because a professed sensualist,-who, amidst all the delicacies and improvements of pleasure which a luxuriant fancy might strike out, still maintained that the best way of enlarging human happiness was by a communication of it to others. And if it was necessary here, or there was time to refine upon this doctrine, one might further maintain, exclusively of the happiness which the mind itself feels in the exercise of this virtue, that the very body of man is never in a better state than when he is most inclined to do good offices; that as nothing more contributes to health than a benevolence of temper, so nothing generally is a stronger indication of it. And what seems to confirm this opinion is an observation, the truth of which must be submitted to every one's reflection, namely, that a disinclination and backwardness to do good is often attended, if not produced, by an indisposition of the animal as well as rational part of us; so naturally do the soul and body, as in other cases, so in this, mutually befriend or prey upon each other. And indeed, setting aside all abstruser reasoning upon the point, I cannot conceive but that the very mechanical motions which maintain life must be performed with more equal vigour and freedom in that man whom a great and good soul perpetually inclines to show mercy to the miserable, than they can be in a poor, sordid, selfish wretch, What divines say of the mind, naturalists have observed of the body; that there is no passion so natural to it as love, which is the principle of doing good; and though instances like this just mentioned seem far from being every hard-hearted man has felt much inward opposition before he could prevail upon himself to do aught to fix and deserve the character; and that what we say of long habits of vice, that they are hard to be subdued, may with equal truth be said concerning the natural impressions of benevolence, that a man must do much violence to himself, and suffer many a painful struggle, before he can tear away so great and noble a part of his nature. Of this, antiquity has preserved a beautiful instance in an anecdote of Alexander, the tyrant of Pheres, who, though he had so industriously hardened his heart as to seem to take delight in cruelty, insomuch as to murder many of his subjects every day, without cause and without pity, yet at the bare representation of a tragedy, which related the misfortunes of Hecuba and Andromache, he was so touched with the fictitious distress which the poet had wrought up in it, that he burst out into a flood of tears. The explication of which inconsistency is easy, and casts as great a lustre upon human nature as the man himself was a disgrace to it. The case seems to have been this: in real life he had been blinded with passions, and thoughtlessly hurried on by interest or resentment! But here there was no room for motives of that kind; so that his attention being first caught hold of, and all his vices laid asleep, then Nature awoke in triumph, and showed how deeply she had sown the seeds of compassion in every man's breast, when tyrants, with vices the most at enmity with it, were not able entirely to root it out! But this is painting an amiable virtue, and setting her off with shades that wickedness lends us; when one might safely trust to the force of her own natural charms, and ask, Whether anything under heaven, in its own nature, is more lovely and engaging? To illustrate this the more, let us turn our thoughts within ourselves, and for a moment let any number of us here imagine ourselves at this instant engaged in drawing the most perfect and amiable character, such as, according to our conceptions of the Deity, we should think most acceptable to him, and most likely to be universally admired by all mankind. I appeal to your own thoughts, whether the first idea which offered itself to most of our imaginations would not be that of a compassionate benefactor, stretching forth his hands to raise up the helpless orphan? Whatever other virtues we should give our hero, we shall all agree in making him a generous friend, who thought the opportunities of doing good to be the only charm of his prosperity; we should paint him, like the Psalmist's 'river of God,' overflowing the thirsty parts of the earth, that he might enrich them, carrying plenty and gladness along with him. If this was not sufficient, and we were still desirous of adding a further degree of perfection to so great a character, we should endeavour to think of some one, if human nature could furnish such a pattern, who, if occasion required, was willing to undergo all kinds of affliction,-to sacrifice himself, -to forget his dearest interests, and even lay down his life for the good of mankind! And here, O merciful Saviour, how would the bright original of thy unbounded goodness break in upon our hearts! Thou who becamest poor, that we might be rich!' though Lord of all this world, yet hast not where to lay thy head!' and though equal in power and glory to the great God of Nature, 'yet madest thyself of no reputation, tookest upon thee the form of a servant!' submitting thyself, without opening thy mouth, to all the indignities which a thankless and undiscerning people could offer! and at length, to accomplish our salvation, 'becamest obedient unto death,' suffering thyself, as on this day,' 'to be led like a lamb to the slaughter!' The consideration of this stupendous instance of compassion in the Son of God is the most unanswerable appeal that can be made to the heart of man, for the reasonableness of it in himself; it is the great argument which the Apostles use in almost all their exhortations to good works: 'Beloved, if Christ so loved us.' The inference is unavoidable; and gives strength and beauty to everything else which can be urged upon the subject. And therefore I have reserved it for my last and warmest appeal, with which I would gladly finish this discourse, that, at least for their sakes for whom it is preached, we might be left to the full impression of so exalted and so seasonable a motive. That by reflecting upon the infinite labour of this day's love, in the instance of Christ's death, we may consider what an immense debt we owe to each other; and by calling to mind the amiable pattern of his life, in doing good, we might learn in what manner we may best discharge it. good mind would be willing to do it, I believe there can be none more beneficial or comprehensive in its effects than that for which we are met here together; the proper education of poor children being the groundwork of almost every other kind of charity, as that which makes every other subsequent act of it answer the pious expectation of the giver. Without this foundation first laid, how much kindness in the progress of a benevolent man's life is unavoidably cast away! and sometimes where it is as senseless as the exposing of a tender plant to all the inclemencies of a cruel season, and then going with sorrow to take it in, when the root is already dead. I said, therefore, this was the foundation of almost every kind of charity; and might not one have added, of all policy, too? since the many ill consequences which attend the want it, though grievously felt by the parties themselves, are no less so by the community of which they are members; and, moreover, of all mischiefs seem the hardest to be redressed, insomuch that when one considers the disloyal seductions of Popery on one hand, and on the other that no bad man, whatever he professes, can be a good subject, one may venture to say it had been cheaper and better for the nation to have borne the expense of instilling sound principles and good morals into the neglected children of the lower sort, especially in some parts of Great Britain, than to be obliged, so often as we have been within this last century, to rise up and arm ourselves against the rebellious effects which the want of them has brought down even to our doors. And in fact, if we are to trust to antiquity, the truth of which in this case we have no reason to dispute, this matter has been looked upon of such vast importance to the civil happiness and peace of a people, that some commonwealths, the most eminent for political wisdom, have chosen to make a public concern of it; thinking it much safer to be entrusted to the prudence of the magistrate than to the mistaken tenderness or natural partiality of the parent. It was consistent with this, and bespoke a very refined sense of policy in the Lacedæmonians (though, by the way, I believe different from what more modern politics would have directed in like circumstances), when Antipater demanded of them fifty children as hostages for the security of a distant engagement, they made this brave and wise answer: They would not, they could not consent; they would rather give him double the number of their best grown-up men,'-intimating that, however they were distressed, they would choose any inconvenience rather than suffer the loss of their country's education; and the opportunity (which, if once lost, can never be regained) of And, indeed, of all the methods in which a giving their youth an early tincture of religion, 1 Preached on Good Friday. and bringing them up to a love of industry, and a love of the laws and constitution of their country. If this shows the great importance of a proper education to children of all ranks and conditions, what shall we say then of those whom the providence of God has placed in the very lowest lot of life, utterly cast out of the way of knowledge, without a parent,-sometimes, may be, without a friend to guide and instruct them, but what common pity and the necessity of their sad situation engage; where the dangers which surround them on every side are so great and many, that, for one fortunate passenger in life who makes his way well in the world with such early disadvantages, and so dismal a setting out, we may reckon thousands who every day suffer shipwreck, and are lost for over. If there is a case under heaven which calls out aloud for the more immediate exercise of compassion, and which may be looked upon as the compendium of all charity, surely it is this; and I am persuaded there would want nothing more to convince the greatest enemy to these kinds of charities that it is so, but a bare opportunity of taking a nearer view of some of the more distressful objects of it. stranger to our holy religion and the love it teaches, should he, as he journeyed, come to the place where she lay, when he saw, would he not have compassion on her?' God forbid a Christian should this day want it! or at any time look upon such a distress, and pass by on the other side.' Rather let him do as his Saviour taught him, and bind up the wounds,' and pour comfort into the heart of one whom the hand of God has so bruised. Let him practise what it is, with Elijah's transport, to say to the afflicted widow, See, thy son liveth!'-liveth by my charity, and the bounty of this hour, to all the purposes which make life desirable,-to be made a good man and a profitable subject: on one hand, to be trained up to such a sense of his duty as may secure him an interest in the world to come; and, with regard to this world, to be so brought up in it to a love of honest labour and industry as all his life long to earn and eat his bread with joy and thankfulness. 'Much peace and happiness rest upon the head and heart of every one who thus brings children to Christ! May the blessing of him that was ready to perish come seasonably upon him! The Lord comfort him when he most wants it! When he lies sick upon his bed, make thou, O God! all his bed in his sickness; and, for what he now scatters, give him then that peace of thine which passeth all understanding, and which nothing in this world can either give or take away!' Amen. Let him go into the dwellings of the unfortunate into some mournful cottage where poverty and afiliction reign together. There let him behold the disconsolate widow, sitting, -steeped in tears; thus sorrowing over the infant she knows not how to succour: 'O my child! thou art now left exposed to a wide and vicious world, too full of snares and temptations for thy tender and unpractised age.' Perhaps a parent's love may magnify those dangers: 'But when I consider thou art driven out naked VI.-PHARISEE AND PUBLICAN IN THE into the midst of them, without friends, without fortune, without instruction, my heart bleeds beforehand for the evils which may come upon thee! God, in whom we trusted, is witness, so low had his providence placed us, that we never indulged one wish to have made thee rich. Virtuous we would have had thee: for thy father, my husband, was a good man, and feared the Lord; and though all the fruits of his care and industry were little enough for our support, yet he honestly had determined to have spared some portion of it, scanty as it was, to have placed thee safely in the way of knowledge and instruction. But, alas! he is gone from us, never to return more; and with him are fled the means of doing it. For, behold, the creditor is come upon us, to take all that we have.' Grief is eloquent, and will not easily be imitated. But let the man who is the least friend to distresses of this nature conceive some disconsolate widow uttering her complaint, even in this manner; and then let him consider if there is any sorrow like this sorrow wherewith the Lord has afflicted her;' or whether there can be any charity like that of taking 'the child out of the mother's bosom,' and rescuing her from these apprehensions. Should a heathen, a TEMPLE. I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other.-LUKE XVIII. 14, first part. THESE words are the judgment which our Saviour has left upon the behaviour and different degrees of merit in the two men, the Pharisee and the publican, whom he represents, in the foregoing parable, as going up into the temple to pray. In what manner they discharged this great and solemn duty will best be seen from a consideration of the prayer which each is said to have addressed to God upon the occasion. The Pharisee, instead of an act of humiliation in that awful presence before which he stood, with an air of triumph and self-sufficiency thanks God that he had not made him like others, -extortioners, adulterers, unjust, or even as this publican. The publican is represented as standing afar off, and, with a heart touched with humility, from a just sense of his own unworthiness, is said only to have smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me, a sinner! I tell you, adds our Saviour, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other. Though the justice of this determination strikes every one at first sight, it may not be amiss to enter into a more particular examination of the evidence and reasons upon which it might be founded, not only because it may place the equity of this decision in favour of the publican in a stronger light, but that the subject seems likely to lead me to a train of reflections not unsuitable to the solemnity of the season. The Pharisee was one of that scct who, in our Saviour's time, what by the austerity of their lives, their public alms-deeds, and greater pretences to piety than other men, had gradually wrought themselves into much credit and reputation with the people; and, indeed, as the bulk of these are easily caught with appearances, their character seems to have been admirably well suited to such a purpose. If you looked no further than the outward part of it, you would think it made up of all goodness and perfection; an uncommon sanctity of life, guarded by great decorum and severity of manners, profuse and frequent charities to the poor,-many acts of religion,-much observance of the law,—much abstinence,-much prayer. by nature, but by choice and disposition utterly corrupt and wicked! Me thou hast fashioned in a different mould, and hast infused so large a portion of thy spirit into me, lo! I am raised above the temptations and desires to which flesh and blood are subject! I thank thee that thou hast made me thus: not a frail vessel of clay, like that of other men, or even this publican, but that I stand here a chosen and sanctified vessel unto thee! After this obvious paraphrase upon the words, which speaks no more than the true spirit of the Pharisee's prayer, you would naturally ask, What reason was there for all this triumph? or what foundation could he have to insult in this manner over the infirmities of mankind? or even those of the humble publican who stood before him? Why, says he, I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I possess. Truly a very indifferent account of himself; and if that was all he had to offer in his own behalf, God knows, it was but a weak foundation to support so much arrogance and self-conceit; because the observance of both the one and the other of these ordinances might be supposed well enough to be consistent with the most profligate of life and manners. The conduct and behaviour of the publican appear very different, and, indeed, as much the reverse to this as you could conceive. But before we enter upon that, as I have spoken largely to the character of the Pharisee, 'twill be but justice to say a word or two in general to his. The publican was one of that order of men employed by the Roman emperors in levy from time to time exacted from Judea as a conquered nation. Whether from the particular fate of that employment, owing to the fixed aversion which men have to part with what is their own, or from whatever other causes it happened, so it was, that the whole set of men were odious; insomuch that the name of a publican was a term of reproach and infamy amongst the Jews. It is painful to suspect the appearance of so much good; and would have been so here, had not our blessed Saviour left us their real character upon record, and drawn up by himself in one word,-That the sect were like whitened sepulchres, all fair and beautiful without, and enriched there with whatever could attract the eye of the beholder; but, when searched withinside, were full of corrup-ing the taxes and contributions which were tion, and of whatever could shock and disgust the searcher. So that, with all their affectation of piety, and more extraordinary strictness and regularity in their outward deportment, all was irregular and uncultivated within; and all these fair pretences, how promising soever, blasted by the indulgence of the worst of human passions, -pride, spiritual pride (the worst of all pride), hypocrisy, self-love, covetousness, extortion, cruelty, and revenge. What pity it is that the sacred name of Religion should ever have been borrowed, and employed in so bad a work as in covering over such a black catalogue of vices! or that the fair form of Virtue should have been thus disgraced and for ever drawn into suspicion, from the unworthy uses of this kind to which the artful and abandoned have often put her! The Pharisee seems to have had not many scruples of this kind; and the prayer he makes use of in the temple is a true picture of the man's heart, and shows with what a disposition and frame of mind he came to worship. God! I thank thee that thou hast formed me of different materials from the rest of my species, whom thou hast created frail and vain 1 Preached in Lent. Perhaps the many instances of rigour to which their office might direct them, heightened sometimes by a mixture of cruelty and insolence of their own, and possibly always made to appear worse than they were by the loud clamours and misrepresentations of others, might have contributed to form and fix this odium. But it was here, no doubt, as in all other classes of men whose professions expose them to more temptations than that of others, that there are numbers who still behave well, and who, amidst all the snares and opportunities which lie in their way, pass through them, not only with an unblemished character, but with the inward testimony of a good conscience. The publican, in all likelihood, was one of these; and the sentiments of candour and humility, which the view of his condition in |
