Transcribed from the 1824 Kingsbury, Parbury, and Allen edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

                       [Picture: Cover of pamphlet]





                                   THE
                   PROPORTIONS OF CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY.


                                A SERMON,

                  PREACHED BEFORE A MONTHLY ASSOCIATION

                                    OF

                         CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS

                                   AND

                                CHURCHES,

                                 HELD AT

                         TREVOR CHAPEL, BROMPTON,

                              APRIL 8, 1824.

                                * * * * *

                                    BY
               WILLIAM BENGO’ COLLYER, D.D.  LL.D.  F.A.S.

  MEMBER OF THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, ARTS, AND BELLES-LETTRES, OF DIJON,
        AND OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY OF PHILADELPHIA;

    PASTOR OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCHES ASSEMBLING AT HANOVER CHAPEL,
                                 PECKHAM,

                      AND AT SALTERS’ HALL, LONDON.

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:

        SOLD BY KINGSBURY, PARBURY, AND ALLEN, LEADENHALL STREET;
              AND BY B. COX, ST. THOMAS’S STREET, SOUTHWARK.

                                  1824.




A SERMON, &c. &c.


                                 GAL. vi. 10.

    AS WE HAVE THEREFORE OPPORTUNITY, LET US DO GOOD UNTO ALL MEN,
    ESPECIALLY UNTO THEM WHO ARE OF THE HOUSEHOLD OF FAITH.

THE subject proposed for discussion to-day is thus worded on the printed
list: _The proportions of Christian liberality_.  I have had some
difficulty in determining, whether the inquiry intended to be instituted,
regarded disposition or distribution—whether it should relate to our
temper of mind towards those who differ from us? or the application of
our property to the various claims which are made upon us?  If the first
be intended, then the question will be—how far may we advance in
kindliness of heart, and in the exercise of charity, without yielding our
convictions, sacrificing principle, and countenancing error?  A difficult
and delicate point to be settled—in which the dangers of concession and
of separation seem to balance; where the one may sink into laxity and
indifference, the other lead to intolerance and bigotry.—If the last be
principally designed, as I apprehend it is, then the inquiry will be—as
the numerous and multiplying appeals to religion and humanity cannot all
be alike answered, how shall we best distinguish their respective merits,
and in what proportions should we apply our means, which must be
necessarily limited, to their respective claims?  The text seems
applicable to every possible view of the subject.  It unites, what
Christian liberality can never separate—benevolence and beneficence: the
heart is to guide the hand, and Christian prudence is to superintend the
whole.  We are to “_do good_”—We are to “do good to _all_ men”—We are to
pay particular regard to some—“_especially_ unto them who are of _the
household of faith_”—We are to do it “_as we have opportunity_”—seizing
circumstances, seeking occasions, estimating our means.—Are not these
“_the proportions of Christian liberality_?”  “As we have therefore
opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of
the household of faith.”  Having thus inspired authority for our guide,
we shall, perhaps, best understand the subject, by discussing the terms
in which it is expressed, and submitting them to the test of the text and
it’s connexion.

First, What are we to understand by LIBERALITY?

It’s seat must be in the _heart_.  It is goodwill to man as a principle,
exhibiting itself by corresponding exertions.  This expansion of soul
distinguishes the liberal from the illiberal:—compulsion or interest may
lead to a distribution of property—but “the liberal mind deviseth liberal
things”—it’s bounty flows spontaneously—the streams are diffused all
abroad, but the spring rises in the bosom—and the largeness of the supply
demonstrates that the fountain is inexhaustible.  The heart of the
liberal man is a heart of flesh—it is sensitive, and can feel—it is soft,
and can yield to the touch—it is tender, and requires not to be pressed.
The heart of the miser is a rock—it may be calcined, but not softened—it
may be consumed, but not melted—the sunbeam of mercy, and the fire of
judgment, fall upon it alike in vain.  His chest, although made of iron,
may be broken, it’s bars and bolts forced, it’s locks opened—but his
heart, never!  Every moral malady proceeds from the heart—and every
Christian grace is enthroned there.  Charity is love—and without love,
there is no liberality.

Liberality, when the heart is it’s centre, has the world for it’s
circumference.  It’s ample circle embraces all mankind.  The
_denomination_ is overlooked to make room for the species.  “Am I not a
man, and a brother?” is the irresistible appeal; and whether it come from
the east or the west, the north or the south, it finds it’s way to the
secret recesses of the soul, and calls into action all it’s mighty
energies.  Forgetful of the lines of political demarcation assigned by
princes, and recognised by nations—regardless of the narrow limits into
which a sectarian spirit has distributed the Christian world—as
indifferent to the colour of the skin, and to diversity of tongues, as to
the shibboleth of a party—unfettered even “by the bounds of the people,”
which “the Most High set, when he separated the sons of Adam, and divided
to the nations their inheritance”—Christian liberality, on the wings of
love, swift as those of the morning, and strong as those of the seraph,
sweeps over seas and mountains, the depths of the forest, and the sands
of the desert—un-scorched at the torrid zone, and unfrozen at the
poles—to scatter her blessings over the great Family of Man.  “Have we
not all one Father?  Hath not one God created us?”  “As we have,
therefore, opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto
those who are of the household of faith.”

Liberality of heart will extend to the _purse_.  “If a brother or sister
be naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them,
Depart in peace, be you warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them
not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?”  I
am not surprised that some religionists should quarrel with the doctrine
of James, and scarcely allow him to be orthodox.  What a melancholy
consideration it is, that the purse should prove so fatal a test, as it
frequently does, to professors, otherwise of good report.  They can speak
fluently on spiritual topics—they can distinguish accurately between
things that differ—they settle down firmly upon a sound system, and
resolutely defend it—but when you touch their property, you discover
their idolatry.  See that young man retiring, sad and dissatisfied, from
Jesus Christ;—he was moral, just, amiable, good—what qualities must he
not have possessed to have excited the admiration of the Redeemer! for it
is said, “Jesus, beholding him, loved him.”—Why does he turn his back
upon his Lord, and refuse to follow in his train?  Ah! this touchstone
was applied, which his worldly spirit could not endure!  He could pass
through all the forms of external religion—and maintain the beautiful
symmetry of moral character—but he could not part with his money.

Liberality is evinced in no small degree in _manner_.  There are delicate
touches in the movements of a feeling heart, which cannot be described.
Sorrow renders the sufferer sensitive; and harshness of deportment
destroys all the value of the gift.  The sigh of sympathy, even where
there is nothing more to bestow, is, to him who suffers, like the
alabaster-box of precious ointment which Mary broke over the head of
Jesus—an odour is diffused on every side—and he is “anointed for his
burial”—he is soothed into resignation, and wafted in spirit to the world
of love, where poverty and tears shall be unknown.  But the proud
imperious spirit cannot confer a benefit—it’s very bounty inflicts an
injury—and its roughness tears open a wound, which it lacks the skill to
heal.  Misery is insulted rather than alleviated—and the reed bruised by
adversity, is broken by unkindness.  Yet—

    —“Such is the pitiless part
       Some act, by the delicate mind—
    Regardless of wringing, or breaking, a heart
       Already to sorrow resigned!”

The absence of feeling demonstrates the want of affection; and we repeat,
where this is lacking, there cannot be liberality.  “Be pitiful, be
courteous”—“For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this, Thou
shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”—and we know what tenderness we
exercise towards ourselves, and what sympathy we expect from others: “As
we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially
unto them who are of the household of faith.”

Secondly, CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ranks higher than the mere emotions of
humanity; it is a spiritual grace stamping the very image of the Deity
upon the benignities of our nature; while it softens whatever is harsh,
enlarges whatever is contracted, extinguishes whatever is unkind,
refines, sublimates, and perfects whatever is amiable—and this is the
subject upon which your attention is engaged.  How beautifully and with
what pathos is this principle described, in itself, and in its active
operation, by the Apostle, in the context!

It springs from _a right source_.  It is all referable to a Divine Agent.
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness,
goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law”—no
sentence of condemnation.  This is Christian liberty—a deliverance from
the curse; but it is not licentiousness—it releases from no moral
obligation, and it requires the active exercise of Christian liberality.
“For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty
for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another.”  If “every
good gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, and cometh down from
the Father of Lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of
turning,” how distinctly may we trace all our kind affections, under the
regulation of religious principle, to that greatest and best of Beings,
of whom it is emphatically said, “God is love.”

The liberality which springs from a right source will be always governed
by _a right motive_.  We seldom err so entirely as on this great point.
Hypocrisy is a wilful deceiving of others; an unblushing pretension to
qualities which the individual is conscious he does not possess; and
regarding which he is careless—excepting that the assumption of them
subserves some supposed interest.  But it is very possible for a man to
deceive himself, who intends to practise no deceit upon others; and to
give himself credit for qualities which he does not really possess.
Christian exertion may meet with opposition and hostility; but it will
also, in the present day, be encircled with distinction and applauses.
Ah! who can be certain of his motives, when so much intermixture of
interest, influence, and approbation, is found in connexion with the
consecration of our time, our talents, and our property, to God?  It is a
solemn inquiry, which we ought closely to put to our own
consciences—Should we be the same persons, if attachment to the cause of
religion (for the subject is _Christian_ liberality,) subjected us to
privations and persecutions, fines and imprisonments, disgrace and death,
as we now are, when a superiority of exertion in the cause of God and
humanity, commands the esteem of a large proportion of society, and thus
confers a present reward of the most flattering description?  What man
can trust his heart on such a point without incurring the censure of the
wisest of men—“He that trusts his own heart is a fool?”  On what point
are we so liable to be deceived as upon one so intimately associated with
our self-love?  Singleness of heart is essential to simplicity of
operation.  The Apostle, therefore, fastened upon one motive—he touched
it as the main-spring of whatsoever things are “true, and honest, and
just, and pure, and lovely, and of good report”—of whatsoever things
declared “virtue,” deserved “praise,” and were worthy of Christian
consideration—of all the sacrifices which he himself made—of all the
labours which his colleagues achieved—of all the privations which
primitive Christians cheerfully endured—of all the mighty and
unparalleled characteristics of that matchless age—the “first-born,” the
“beginning of the strength” of Christianity—every motive, every power,
every feeling, reposed in one commanding and irresistible principle—“The
love of Christ constraineth us”—all human hopes and fears, joys and
sorrows, pleasures and pains, were borne along the bosom of this
irresistible tide of attachment to the Redeemer—and all earthly
considerations were rendered subservient to his cause.

Liberality springing from a right source, regulated by a right motive,
could not fail to exhibit a corresponding _operation_.  The principle is
accordingly seen in all it’s beautiful influence—those who feel it’s
power have not “the grace of God in vain”—nor “the faith of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of persons.”  They value
men according to their qualities, and not according to their rank; and
they are prepared to produce that “charity which is the bond of
perfectness,” on every occasion which requires it’s exercise.  They will
know how to shew candour and brotherly tenderness—“Brethren, if a man be
overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such an one in the
spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.”
They will know how to manifest Christian sympathy—“Bear ye one another’s
burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”  They will know how to apply
their property and their influence—“And let us not be weary in
well-doing; for in due season we shall reap if we faint not.”  I have
chosen to borrow the illustration of this principle, in it’s diversified
operation, from the context—that we may discern the union between the
cause and the effect, and the connexion of both with the passage which I
have selected, as bearing upon the subject of discussion, and as
demanding, and exhibiting, active Christianity.

Christian liberality distinguishes itself by it’s _perpetuity_.  Man is a
capricious being; his views, his emotions, his affections are perpetually
changing.  Persons of quick feelings, and extraordinary sensibility, are
especially fluctuating.  Those who have power, and property, put the
question of human instability beyond dispute, by movements as
unpremeditated on their own part, as unexpected by others.  Hence have
arisen the melancholy details of changes connected with humanity—the
emptiness of human trust—the uncertainties of human friendships—all of
which have become common-place topics, that excite but little attention
from their recurrence—or are considered as ornamental only to moral
disquisition—as appropriate to point a verse or to round a period—until
some stroke of calamity brings the conviction home to the individual—and
then this worn-out truism strikes him with all the force of novelty—and
he complains, as though he had sustained personally some unexpected and
unprecedented injury.  “A double-minded man”—a man of mixed motives, and
of unfixed principles, “is unstable in all his ways”—but the operation of
Christian liberality, because of it’s source, and it’s motives, cannot
fail.

    “This holy fire for ever burneth—
    From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.”

Independent of human considerations, it survives them all—and let us
place our generous principles out of the reach of accident, and out of
the controul of our own caprice, by subordinating them to the unchanging
law of our Eternal Lord—“As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good
unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.”

Thirdly, There are MANY CLAIMS upon Christian liberality—This is supposed
by the requisition that we should (attempt at least to) adjust their
_proportions_.

There are _religious_ claims—and these occupy, and deserve to occupy, the
first rank.  The Christian world is at length awakening to some
perception of the wants and the miseries of man—to the purposes of the
divine mercy, and the freeness of the divine promises—to the fulness of
time, the lapse of ages, and the great crisis so long foretold, and so
rapidly approaching.  The voice of more than six hundred millions of the
human race, rises at last above the collision of human passions, and
rouses professors of religion from their criminal slumbers.  The
obligations which we owe to that scattered and despised people, from whom
we derive the oracles of truth, and all the hopes of immortality, begin
to be better understood, and more powerfully felt.  The moral wastes
spreading around us, even in this highly-favoured country, this Eden of
the world, have attracted the eye, and moved the heart, of Christian
benevolence; corresponding instrumentality is employed—and exertions, not
indeed commensurate with the work, but proportionate to our ability, are
called into complete and effective operation.  Bible Societies are
multiplying throughout Europe and America, having lighted the torch of
scriptural knowledge, from the fire which burns on the altar of Great
Britain—and the divine blessing upon human industry, applied to a cause
so sacred, has almost supplied the absence of the miraculous gift of
tongues.  Men of God have been found, fired with apostolic zeal, who,
after having prepared themselves so far as human effort could extend,
have given themselves wholly to the sublime work, of “preaching the
unsearchable riches of Christ,” to unenlightened nations, and heathen
countries.  They have sacrificed country, home, family, personal ease and
distinction, every thing that men most esteem, for this arduous, this
laborious undertaking.  Some of them have fallen martyrs in the
cause—they have fallen under the effects of an unhealthy climate, or the
oppression of wicked men—but their graves are watered with the tears of
strangers, and their memory is cherished in the hearts of their
countrymen—foreign eyes have wept their departure—foreign hands have
prepared their sepulchre—and an unknown tongue has recorded their
disinterested and successful labours.  At home, the education of the poor
has occupied the public attention, throughout all classes of society, and
all denominations of Christians—it has called forth the most astonishing
exertions—and been crowned with the most unexampled success.
Corresponding efforts have been made, in preaching the gospel—_that_
scriptural and divinely authorized mode of diffusing religious truth—and
the increasing spirit of hearing, and the multiplication of our
sanctuaries of every description and denomination, prove that these
things have not been in vain.

The claims of _humanity_ have kept pace with those of
religion—necessarily so—for the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, has
identified itself with whatever can contribute to the alleviation of
human wretchedness here, while it has eternally secured human salvation
hereafter.  Philosophy erected no asylums for the afflicted—and made no
provision for misery.  As the Roman empire waned, and the influence of
the gospel began to be felt—some efforts were made to wipe the tear from
the cheek of wretchedness—but nothing of a fixed and national character
established itself, until the religious reign of Jesus obtained in
society.  Then arose the structures of mercy—then, all the powers of the
human mind were bent to the alleviation of distress—then, encouragements
to industry were proposed—and it was attempted to repel affliction so far
as it was possible—and to ameliorate it, where it could not be excluded.
Then female virtues were elicited and cherished—woman was advanced to her
proper rank in society—released from the chains, physical, mental, and
moral, in which an unnatural bondage had held her; and her ministering
graces, her tender sympathies, her soothing powers, were called into
exercise.  Now it is only necessary to name the wrong which requires to
be redressed—to state the woe which can be alleviated—to present to
Christian compassion a new picture of human misery—or to open before
Christian philanthropy a new channel in which its exhaustless streams may
flow—in order to command attention and secure success.  Men are no longer
willing to settle down upon a barren creed: but have learned from
inspired oracles—that “pure religion from God even the Father is this—to
visit the fatherless and the widow in their afflictions, and to keep
ourselves unspotted from the world.”

Fourthly, ALL these things are to be met in their variety of claims, and
in due proportion.

In _general_ we may remark, that they can only be met in part—all things
are not within our power—and all things have not equal claims upon our
attention.  It is the diversity of such objects that often produces
distraction—and their multiplication, rendering an attention to all
impracticable, furnishes an apology to the indolent or the avaricious,
for not supporting any.—But the question is not left to our decision.
Man is himself the property of God—and all that he possesses he holds in
trust for his Maker.  Every thing that relates to him is a stewardship
for which he is accountable upon the peril of his immortal spirit.  The
interests of society are involved in the result, and it is not abandoned
to individual caprice.  The law is positive as to the right of man upon
human ministry, the question only relates to the proportions of its
distribution—and rules are assigned even to this—It is required of
stewards that they be found faithful—and he who ministers to man, should
at the same moment remember his obligations and his responsibility to
God.

In _particular_, local claims demand to be first satisfied.  The man has
a duty which he owes to himself—and it is not demanded that he should
lose sight of this, in pursuit of the interest of others.  How delicately
the Apostle states this: “And herein I give my advice”—no authoritative
command—no usurpation over the right of private judgment—and with what
consideration!  “For I mean not that other men be eased and you burdened:
but by an equality, that now at this time your abundance may be a supply
for their want, that their abundance also may be a supply for your
want—that there may be an equality.  As it is written, he that had
gathered much had nothing over; and he that had gathered little, had no
lack.”—What an argument!—The giver may hereafter stand in need of the
gift—and he shall meet with reciprocal liberality.—The divine Providence
furnishes all the supply; and sheds a correspondent blessing upon
enlargement of heart—It equalizes human affairs now, above our present
perception—and strikes the eternal balance at last.  The man has a duty
which he owes to his neighbourhood.  On the plea of sending the gospel
abroad, he has no right to neglect it at home—and to see British heathens
perishing at his feet, unmoved.  On pretence of spreading it over the
dark villages of his country, he has no authority for abandoning his own
church, and his own minister.  He who is “higher than the highest”—the
Judge of hearts—and the Lord of property—will another day say to the man
who has speculated upon general interests and overlooked such as are
personal—“These things ye ought to have done—and not to have left the
other undone.”  The bounds of our habitation are assigned by the divine
Providence; and they clearly mark out the first and most pressing sphere
of operation; while they are sufficiently wide to afford ample scope for
beneficence, without restraining a benevolent regard to objects more
remote, but not less interesting.  It is evident that the man must decide
for himself, amidst this variety of claims—that he is bound to decide
promptly, for immortal spirits are perishing while he is
hesitating—equitably, for the tribunal stands at the end of his
course—and that only general rules can be laid down for his guidance.  To
these we now proceed—What is our duty in respect of these different
claims individually? in other words:

Fifthly, What are THE PROPORTIONS of Christian liberality?  The
principles already established will go far to decide this important
inquiry; and have therefore been broadly stated, and have occupied so
much of your time.  But specific directions will be expected, and may be
necessary.  They must be plain, in order to be understood; short, in
order to be remembered; and scriptural, in order to possess due
weight.—It is of little consequence what human opinion is upon a point so
important—We are expressly bound by the law of that Being at whose bar we
are to be finally judged.  If I produce his requisitions—I presume no man
will dare to question their authority—The rules laid down in the word of
God, are these—

1.  _Ability_—really and honestly estimated by a man’s own conscience.
Thus Jesus applauded Mary!—“She hath done what she could.”  The
question—What can I afford?—is answered differently, under different
circumstances.  If a man is disposed to build a house—to enlarge his
establishment—to extend his connexions—to increase his business—he feels
no difficulty in answering this inquiry.  He is apt to calculate even
beyond his means; and he is certain not to fall short of them.  But if
the same question be put relative to any cause of religion, or humanity,
his perplexities instantly commence.  Then, he is doubtful of his
resources—then, his calculations become contracted—then, he measures his
duties by the standard of others, rather than by his own capacities—then,
he is anxious to ascertain how little he may do, and yet preserve his
character.—Nothing can more decidedly settle this point, than the
indisputable fact—that of all the great societies formed for the
furtherance of religious knowledge, and moral improvement, there is not
one whose funds are not more dependent upon the contributions of the
lower classes of life than upon the rich and the noble.  Look at the
proportions of those contributions—and decide for yourselves.  The poor
have but little to give—they are therefore under the full force of the
principle of doing what they can—the rich are content to shake the
superfluities of their prosperity over a Christian cause—and sometimes
reluctantly grant even these.—But the final estimate will be made
according to a man’s ability: he will be judged not merely by what he has
done, but by what he might have done; and he must abide all the
consequences.

2.  _Prosperity_—ought to determine the measure of benevolence.  So said
the Apostle when he wrote to the Corinthians—“Now concerning the
collection for the saints, as I have given order to the churches of
Galatia, even so do ye.  Upon the first day of the week let every one of
you lay by him in store, _as God hath prospered him_, that there be no
gathering when I come.  And when I come, whomsoever you shall approve by
your letters, him will I send to bring your _liberality_ into Jerusalem.”
The personal question is—Has this plain and imperative rule been observed
by you individually?  Have you rendered unto the Lord, according to the
benefits received?  Changes have occurred in your circumstances.  Some
can say, like Jacob, “With my staff I passed over this Jordan, and now I
am become two bands.”—The table is spread for them—their “head is
anointed with oil”—their “cup runneth over”—Have their grants to the
cause of religion corresponded with the bounties of Providence?  Oh, if
this were the case, it would not be necessary to press the subject of
Christian benevolence and of humane consideration so far and so earnestly
as we are now compelled to do!  There would be a spontaneity of heart
springing up with the claim—and the inquiry would be, “What can I do for
him, who has done so much for me?”—Let every one within this sanctuary
examine his personal deportment, and answer it to his conscience—whether
his liberality has kept pace with his prosperity.

3.  _Adversity is no absolute bar to generosity_—When that all-seeing
eye, to which motives are as discernible as actions, was fixed upon those
who brought their gifts to the treasury—a poor widow approached, and cast
in two mites, the value of which amounted to one farthing—and the
offering received the commendation of Him who is the Lord of property—to
whom the silver and the gold belong of right—and when they are
consecrated to his service, it is of his own that we take to present to
him.  “And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath
cast in more than they all: for all those have of their abundance cast in
unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the
living that she had.”  “Many that were rich, cast in much:” but she
_indeed did_ “_what she could_.”  What high and deserved praise was that
which the Apostle Paul pronounced upon “the churches of
Macedonia”!—“that, in a great trial of affliction, the abundance of their
joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality.”
“For,” said he, “to their power (I bear record) yea, and beyond their
power, they were willing of themselves: praying us with much entreaty
that we would receive the gift, and take upon us the fellowship of the
ministering to the saints.  And this they did, not as we hoped, but first
gave their ownselves to the Lord, and unto us by the will of God.”  When
penury and poverty lend their aid to the cause of humanity and religion,
the heart is indeed engaged in the good work.  Some would shut these
sluices of benevolence on the part of the poor, and deprive them of the
highest gratification of which a generous mind is susceptible, under the
pretext of compassion for their circumstances.  But the Apostle produced
this liberality of the Macedonians amidst the contractedness of their
means, as an evidence of the power “of the grace of God,” upon their
hearts; and such persons as would restrain the hand of the indigent,
would, if they preserved any measure of consistency, have condemned the
widow whom the Lord commended—and have censured the act which he
approved.

4.  _Domestic wants and claims must be first regarded_.—“If any provide
not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied
the faith, and is worse than an infidel.”  These natural claims are
allowed to act with all their power upon the heart of the Christian; and
he is charged to pay homage to them in all the extent of their commanding
influence.  He cannot resist, or neglect, them, without renouncing his
character and his religion.  This furnished the great and palpable
distinction between Christianity and the infidelity, which in modern
times borrowed the venerable name of philosophy.  The philosophy,
“falsely so called,” was always boasting of universal philanthropy,
applying the telescope to the vision, to bring near distant objects, in
the mean while neglecting those which were at home, and branding the
respect due to the ties of nature, with the epithets of weakness, or of
crime; teaching that while speculation upon abstract principles is
virtue,—gratitude, love, natural affection, are vices.  Such monstrous
propositions, however plausible in theory, were in practice destructive
of human happiness, and ruinous to society.  The beneficence of
Christianity, on the other hand, resembles the pebble dropped into the
centre of the lake; circle expands beyond circle, until they wash the
distant shore.  She first implants in the heart the seed of Christian
benevolence, whose diffusive influence extends to the most remote claims;
but the operation is progressive—it passes through all the nearest
relations of life to the great family of man.  She teaches the man to set
first an infinite value upon his own soul, then to feel the most lively
interest for his family, for his neighbours, for his countrymen, for the
whole human race.  The characteristics of the parent, the patriot, the
true citizen of the world, the universal philanthropist, are successively
developed; and they all centre in the Christian.  Neither is this a
theory of speculation; but a system of active and unwearied benevolence.

5.  _Justice must be always observed_.—“Defraud not,” “owe no man any
thing,” are imperative rules.  The last rule cannot, from the nature of
our general pursuits, and the constitution of society, be always rigidly
interpreted; but it should be as closely observed as circumstances will
permit; and invariably associated with the former,—to the utter exclusion
of every species of fraud.  He who risks the property of others in
speculation, except with their full concurrence, and perfect
understanding of the contingent character of the scheme, can scarcely be
called honest; and he who expends on any pretence what is not his own, is
guilty of injustice.  But we must be just, before we are generous—we
cannot be generous, except we are just—for no service can be good, which
is not strictly righteous.  Reverse the proposition, and it holds equally
true—when the claims of justice are met, it becomes instantly an act of
justice that we should be liberal.  No man, for the sake of appearance,
has a right to give beyond his means—and no man can be justified, on the
contrary, in withholding so much of assistance from the cause of religion
and humanity, as his circumstances will really allow.  Justice in
principle will decide the duty—and justice in operation will regulate the
distribution.  As all means are limited, it is alike prudent rightly to
measure them, and equitable to select such causes as are most extensively
useful in their nature and operations—and such characters as are most
deserving of assistance, as the first, although not exclusive, objects of
our attention—“For we are to do good unto all men, as we have
opportunity—but especially to them who are of the household of faith.”

6.  _Personal sacrifices will be certainly required_, _and must be
made_.—He who will tread in the Saviour’s steps, and in those of apostles
and primitive Christians, must learn to “deny himself.”  This rule is
necessary to enable us to judge of our actual power of liberality.  We
should carefully examine what indulgences we can resign, and what
superfluities we can retrench, for the advantage of others, without an
unreasonable sacrifice of our own comforts.  To yield something personal
for general good, imparts a zest to liberality which rewards the generous
surrender.  This is a rule which we should connect with the earliest
instructions of our children.  Let that which their hearts prompt them to
give be really their own—they will then learn to spare in order to
gratify the kindly impulses of their nature—and this submission to a
partial privation, will impart to them the consciousness of acting from
principle.  It will further teach them early to estimate property aright,
for it’s use, and not for it’s own sake—and shew them (for they are most
correct reasoners, from the simplicity of their ideas, and the undivided
attention which they pay to the single object which at any one time
occupies their reflections) that the way to be truly blessed in
themselves, is by becoming blessings to others.  This is a lesson needed
all through life—we cannot begin to learn it too soon, nor put it in
practice too early.  “There is that withholdeth more than is meet, and it
tendeth to poverty.”  The curse of God is upon unsanctified wealth—it is
unsanctified when it is unemployed—and the selfish can never be liberal.

Lastly.  _The general rule_ which should be honestly applied, is this—“If
there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man
hath, and not according to that he hath not.”  And the spirit which
should sanctify all your distributions, is drawn by St. Paul with a
masterly hand.

“But this I say, he which soweth sparingly, shall reap sparingly; and he
which soweth bountifully, shall reap bountifully.  Every man according as
he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of
necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver.”  That is the suitable
temper; and what an encouragement follows!  “And God is able to make all
grace abound towards you; that ye having always all sufficiency in all
things, may abound to every good work.”  It is also guaranteed by express
precepts, promises, and examples all combined—“As it is written, He hath
dispersed abroad: he hath given to the poor: his righteousness remaineth
for ever.”  Then the fervour of ministerial affection breaks forth!—“Now
he that ministereth seed to the sower, both minister bread for your food,
and multiply your seed sown, and increase the fruits of your
righteousness; being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, which
causeth through us thanksgiving to God.”  He next directs their attention
to the beneficial result, both to others and to themselves, of the right
exercise of this Christian beneficence.  “For the administration 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 processed subjection unto the
gospel of Christ, and for your _liberal distribution_ unto them and unto
all men; and by their prayer for you, which long after you for the
exceeding grace of God in you.”

He could add nothing more, or greater, except in referring to the divine
Fountain of all benevolence, and it’s matchless result.  “Now thanks be
to God for his unspeakable gift!”

We must now appeal to the final judgment, as suggesting a perfect rule
for the exercise of Christian affection, (did we accustom ourselves to
realize the awful scenes of that day)—and as casting up the whole sum of
Christian duty.  Have I been defective in discussing this important
subject—and in discriminating the just _proportions of Christian
liberality_? (and I am deeply sensible of my own deficiency,) I will now
apply a test which cannot be mistaken—which needs no metaphysical
disquisitions to settle moral claims—which is universally
intelligible—which approves itself to every conscience.  The doubts which
appear to distract the mind now, as to what is required at our hand, will
all vanish in the day, when “the sound of the cherubim wings,” shall be
“as the voice of Almighty God, when he speaketh.”—Now we may be blinded
by our supposed interest—hardened by our avarice—seduced by our
self-love—confirmed in all these by the conduct, and countenanced by the
negligence and indifference, the coldness and the covetousness of
others—but then the law will be proclaimed to the assembled universe by
the “shout from heaven,” which shall announce the descent of “the Lord
himself,”—by “the voice of the archangel and the trump of God,”—then the
transcript of that law of love written upon the heart of the Judge—“Good
will to man,”—and recorded in the neglected volume of revelation, shall
be read by the light of those fires which shall catch world after world,
until above, beneath, around, the universe shall present one boundless
ocean of rushing and devouring flame; while “clouds and darkness shall be
round about the Lord;” “righteousness and judgment shall be the
habitation of his throne;” when he “cometh to judge the earth;” and into
this awful pavilion men and angels shall be gathered, and in passing
sentence, the legislator will establish it upon his own written
law.—Connect then the claims of duty, and the testimony of conscience,
with the responsibility of that great and dreadful day—Think, that you
hear the voice of the Son of God himself saying—(and you _must_ all hear
it)—“Inasmuch as ye have done it”—or “have not done it”—“unto one of the
least of these,—ye have done it,” or “have not done it, unto me,”—and
remember that there are none who will then think that they have done too
much—and but few, who will not regret that they have done so little!

                                * * * * *

                                 THE END.

                                * * * * *

                              J. G. BARNARD,
                         SKINNER STREET, LONDON.