[Footnote [29]: Acts, iv. 32.]
The tests by which our Savior tries the character of his professed disciples, shed a strong light upon the genius of the gospel. In one connection,[[30]] an inquirer demands of the Savior, "What good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life?" After being reminded of the obligations which his social nature imposed upon him, he ventured, while claiming to be free from guilt in his relations to mankind, to demand, "what lack I yet?" The radical deficiency under which his character labored, the Savior was not long or obscure in pointing out. "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shall have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me." On this passage it is natural to suggest—
- 1. That we have here a test of universal application. The rectitude and benevolence of our Savior's character forbid us to suppose, that he would subject this inquirer, especially as he was highly amiable, to a trial, where eternal life was at stake, peculiarly severe. Indeed, the test seems to have been only a fair exposition of the second great command, and of course it must be applicable to all who are placed under the obligations of that precept. Those who cannot stand this test, as their character is radically imperfect and unsound, must, with the inquirer to whom our Lord applied it, be pronounced unfit for the kingdom of heaven.
- 2. The least that our Savior can in that passage be understood to demand is, that we disinterestedly and heartily devote ourselves to the welfare of mankind, "the poor" especially. We are to put ourselves on a level with them, as we must do "in selling that we have" for their benefit—in other words, in employing our powers and resources to elevate their character, condition, and prospects. This our Savior did; and if we refuse to enter into sympathy and co-operation with him, how can we be his followers? Apply this test to the slaveholder. Instead of "selling that he hath" for the benefit of the poor, he BUYS THE POOR, and exacts their sweat with stripes, to enable him to "clothe himself in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day;" or, HE SELLS THE POOR to support the gospel and convert the heathen!
[Footnote [30]: Luke, xviii. 18-25.]
What, in describing the scenes of the final judgment, does our Savior teach us? By what standard must our character be estimated, and the retributions of eternity be awarded? A standard, which both the righteous and the wicked will be surprised to see erected. From the "offscouring of all things," the meanest specimen of humanity will be selected—a "stranger" in the hands of the oppressor, naked, hungry, sickly; and this stranger, placed in the midst of the assembled universe, by the side of the sovereign Judge, will be openly acknowledged as his representative. "Glory, honor, and immortality," will be the reward of those who had recognized and cheered their Lord through his outraged poor. And tribulation, anguish, and despair, will seize on "every soul of man" who had neglected or despised them. But whom, within the limits of our country, are we to regard especially as the representatives of our final Judge? Every feature of the Savior's picture finds its appropriate original in our enslaved countrymen.
- 1. They are the LEAST of his brethren.
- 2. They are subject to thirst and hunger, unable to command a cup of water or a crumb of bread.
- 3. They are exposed to wasting sickness, without the ability to procure a nurse or employ a physician.
- 4. They are emphatically "in prison," restrained by chains, goaded with whips, tasked, and under keepers. Not a wretch groans in any cell of the prisons of our country, who is exposed to a confinement so vigorous and heartbreaking as the law allows theirs to be continually and permanently.
- 5. And then they are emphatically, and peculiarly, and exclusively, STRANGERS—strangers in the land which gave them birth. Whom else do we constrain to remain aliens in the midst of our free institutions? The Welch, the Swiss, the Irish? The Jews even? Alas, it is the negro only, who may not strike his roots into our soil. Every where we have conspired to treat him as a stranger—every where he is forced to feel himself a stranger. In the stage and steamboat, in the parlor and at our tables, in the scenes of business and in the scenes of amusement—even in the church of God and at the communion table, he is regarded as a stranger. The intelligent and religious are generally disgusted and horror-struck at the thought of his becoming identified with the citizens of our republic—so much so, that thousands of them have entered into a conspiracy to send him off "out of sight," to find a home on a foreign shore!—and justify themselves by openly alleging, that a "single drop" of his blood, in the veins of any human creature, must make him hateful to his fellow citizens!—That nothing but banishment from "our coasts," can redeem him from the scorn and contempt to which his "stranger" blood has reduced him among his own mother's children!
Who, then, in this land "of milk and honey," is "hungry and athirst," but the man from whom the law takes away the last crumb of bread and the smallest drop of water?
Who "naked," but the man whom the law strips of the last rag of clothing?
Who "sick," but the man whom the law deprives of the power of procuring medicine or sending for a physician?
Who "in prison," but the man who, all his life, is under the control of merciless masters and cruel keepers!