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!