The ease with which systematic beneficence enables us to give, is not the only advantage accruing from it. It necessitates an increase in charity proportioned to increase in our wealth. This is a point too much neglected. It might appear that a man whose income is doubled would naturally also double the amount of his alms; that he who had a thousand a year would give much more largely upon its being increased to two. But it is to be feared that this is seldom "practically" the case. Wants expand in more than equal ratio to the means of satisfying them. The larger residence, the increased establishment, the better style of entertaining, place the richer man still in the position of living quite up to his income; the "stereotyped guinea" in the missionary report has not at the end of the year become two, though systematic beneficence might have raised it to a hundred without any sensible difficulty. The channel of the canal was not deepened and widened "at once," and the new supplies are sunk and lost in daily household expenditure, or evaporate in ostentation.
The Jews were commanded to devote a tenth of their property to God; and it seems clear that a Christian cannot be required to do "less" than a Jews who knew not, as we do, the "grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor, that we through His poverty might be rich." There are many persons, indeed, who cannot maintain even their independence without a painful struggle; to speak of systematic beneficence to such, would appear but mockery; "faith" must be their wealth, their offerings their "prayers;" but we have our Barzillais amongst us, who, having enough and to spare, are bound by every consideration of gratitude and duty to give freely—liberally—joyfully.
The time is coming when our King will return in triumph to His own. Then will the Shimeis who rejected Him and despised His cause fall down in terror before Him; and the wondering Barzillais find that their gifts of love, even to the "lentiles and parched pulse and honey," nay, even to the "cup of cold water" given for the sake of their King, have all been registered, and will be a thousand-fold requited by Him. Then will the deep adoring gratitude of the redeemed far exceed that expressed in the words of the Gileadite: "Why should the king recompense me with such a reward!"
[XXV.]
Temple Lily Work.
IN the porch of King Solomon's magnificent temple stood two mighty pillars of brass, nearly thirty feet in height: to the one he gave the name Jachin, "He shall establish;" to the other Boaz, "strength." Thus would the royal preacher seem to teach all generations that to the house of prayer we should come to be firmly established in sound doctrine, and to receive strength to stand fast in the faith.
But we are not only told of the size and material of those stately columns, but of their ornaments also: "The chapiters that were upon the top of the pillars were of lily work in the porch." Such details were not deemed too insignificant to find a place in the Word of God. Now, the question of the amount of ornament to be desired in a church is not one into which I desire to enter, believing that where a devout congregation worship God in spirit and in truth, it is of minor importance whether the edifice in which they meet be fair as Solomon's temple, or plain as the "upper room" in which the disciples assembled. Let us rather consider the beautiful lily work on the pillars as a type of that which is lovely crowning that which is lofty; the spirit of kindly sympathy towards our fellow-worshippers forming a complement and addition to exalted devotion towards God.
Were we to ask the use of churches, we might receive the reply, "They are buildings set apart for prayer, praise, and preaching, and the celebration of the sacraments ordained by our Lord." This might be a correct, but it would not be a complete answer, unless it conveyed the idea of social worship, brethren meeting as brethren in the house of their Father, lovingly uniting their hearts and voices, as they hope to do in their home above. Much is it to be regretted that there is so little of this spirit of religious sympathy; that we have, as it were, the pillars of brass without the lily work round them. There is often a chilling formality in places of worship, that makes us painfully feel that the world has brought its distinctions and its vanities even into the house of prayer. We see, perhaps, the large pew with its solitary occupant, while weary women are standing in the aisle; it is the piece of silver that admits to the seat, and those who are unable to bribe are treated as strangers, almost as intruders, in the place where, beyond all others, they should find themselves welcome. Is it not constantly the man "in goodly apparel," the woman "in gay clothing," to whom it is virtually said, "Sit thou here in a good place;" while the poor must obey the implied though unuttered command, "Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool?"