_How the wise and pious use of an estate carrieth us to
all the virtues of the Christian life; represented in the
character of |Miranda|._
1. MIRANDA (the sister of _Flavia_) is a sober, reasonable Christian.
As soon as she was mistress of her _time_ and _fortune_, it was
her first thought how she might _best fulfil_ every thing that God
required of her in the use of them, and make the best use of this
short life. She depends upon the truth of what our blessed Lord hath
said, _that there is but one thing needful_; and therefore makes her
whole life but one continual labour after it. She has but one reason
for doing, or not doing, for liking, or not liking any thing; and that
is, the _will_ of God. She is not so weak as to pretend to add, what
is called the _fine lady_, to the true Christian; _Miranda_ thinks
too well, to be taken with the sound of such silly words. She has
renounced the world, to follow Christ in the exercise of humility,
charity, devotion, abstinence, and heavenly affections; and that is
_Miranda_’s fine breeding.
Whilst she was under her _mother_, she was forced to live in
_ceremony_, to sit up late at _nights_, to be in the folly of every
_fashion_, to go loaded with _finery_ to the holy sacrament, to be in
every polite _conversation_, to hear prophaneness at the _play-house_,
and wanton songs and love-intrigues at the _opera_, to dance at public
places, that _fops_ and _rakes_ might admire the fineness of her
_shape_, and the _beauty_ of her motions. The remembrance of this way
of life, makes her exceeding careful to maintain a contrary behaviour.
2. _Miranda_ does not divide her duty between God, her neighbour, and
herself; but she considers all as due to God, and so does every thing
for his sake. This makes her consider her _fortune_ as the gift of God,
that is to be used, as every thing is that belongs to God, for the
wise and reasonable ends of a Christian life. Her fortune therefore
is divided betwixt herself and several other poor people, and she
has only her part of _relief_ from it. She thinks it the same folly
to indulge herself in needless expences, as to give to other people
to spend in the same way; therefore, as she will not give a poor man
money to go see a _puppet shew_; neither will she allow herself any
to spend in the same manner, thinking it very proper to be as _wise_
herself as she expects poor men should be. For is it a folly and a
crime in a _poor_ man, says _Miranda_, to waste what is given him
in trifles, whilst he wants _meat_, _drink_, and _cloaths_? And is
it less folly, or a less crime in me, to spend that money in silly
diversions, which might be so much better spent in _imitation_ of
the divine goodness, in works of kindness to my fellow-creatures?
If a poor man’s own necessities are a reason why he should not waste
any of his money idly, surely the necessities of the _poor_, and the
_excellency_ of charity, is a much _greater reason_ why no one should
waste any of his money. For if he does so, he does not only, like the
poor man, waste that which he wants himself; but that which is wanted
for the most noble uses, and which Christ himself is ready to receive
at his hands. And if we are angry at a _poor_ man, when he throws away
that which should buy his own bread, how must we appear in the sight
of God, if we make a _wanton_ idle use of that which would buy bread
and cloaths for our hungry and naked brethren, who are as near and
dear to God as we are, and fellow-heirs of the same glory? This is
the spirit of _Miranda_: she is only one of a certain number of poor
_people_ that are _relieved_ out of her fortune; and she only differs
from them in the _blessedness_ of giving.
3. If you was to see her, you would wonder what poor body it was, that
was so surprizingly _neat_ and _clean_. She has but one rule in her
dress, to be always _clean_, and in the _cheapest_ things. Every thing
about her resembles the purity of her soul; and she is always clean
without, because she is always pure within.
Every morning sees her _early_ at her prayers. She rejoices in the
beginning of every day, because it begins all her rules of holy living,
and brings the fresh pleasure of repeating them. She is as _guardian
angel_ to those that dwell about her, with her watchings and prayers,
blessing the place where she dwells, and making intercession with God
for those that are asleep.
Her devotions have had some intervals; before the light is suffered
to enter into her sister’s room. _Miranda_ does not know what it is
to have a dull half-day; the returns of her hours of prayer, and her
religious exercises, comes too often to let any considerable part of
time lie heavy upon her hands.
4. When you see her at _work_, you see the same wisdom that governs
all her other actions. She is either doing something that is necessary
for herself, or necessary for others who want to be assisted. There
is scarce a poor family in the neighbourhood, but wears something or
other that has had the labour of her hands. Her pious mind neither
wants the amusement, nor can bear with the folly of idle impertinent
work. When there is no _useful_ or _charitable_ work to be done,
_Miranda_ will work no more.
At her table she lives strictly by this rule of holy scripture,
_Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of
God_. This makes her begin and end every meal, as she begins and ends
every day, with acts of devotion. She eats and drinks only for the
sake of living, and with so _regular_ an abstinence, that every _meal_
is an exercise of _self-denial_. If _Miranda_ was to run a _race_
for her life, she would submit to a _diet_ that was proper for it;
but as the race which is set before her, is a race of _holiness_ and
_heavenly_ affection, which she is to finish in a disordered body of
earthly passions; so her every day diet has this one end, to make her
body fitter for this spiritual race. She does not weigh her meat in
a pair of _scales_; but she weighs it in a much better ballance: so
much as gives a proper strength to her body, and renders it able and
willing to obey the soul, to join in psalms and prayers, and lift
up eyes and hands towards heaven with greater readiness, so much is
_Miranda’s meal_. So that _Miranda_ will never have her eyes swell
with fatness, till she has _changed_ her religion.
5. The holy scriptures, especially of the New Testament, are her
daily study; these she reads with a watchful attention, constantly
casting an eye upon herself, and trying herself by every doctrine that
is there. When she has the New Testament in her hand, she supposes
herself at the feet of our Saviour and his apostles; and makes every
thing that she learns of them so many laws of her life. She receives
their words with as much attention and reverence, as if she saw their
persons, and knew that they were just come from heaven, on purpose to
teach her the way that leads to it.
She thinks that the trying herself every day by the scripture, is the
only way to be ready for her trial at the last day.
Of all human writings, the lives of pious persons, and eminent saints,
are her greatest delight. In these she searches as for hidden treasure,
hoping to find some secret of holy living, some uncommon degree of
piety, which she may make her own. By this means _Miranda_ has her
head and heart stored with all the principles of wisdom and holiness.
She is so full of the one business of life, that she finds it
difficult to converse upon any other subject; and if you are in her
company, you must be made wiser and better, whether you will or no.
6. To relate her charity, would be to relate the history of every day
for twenty years; for so long has all her fortune been spent that way.
She has set up near twenty poor tradesmen that had failed in their
business, and saved as many from failing. She has educated several
poor children, that were picked up in the streets, and put them in an
honest employment. As soon as any labourer is confined at home with
any sickness, she sends him, till he recovers, twice the value of his
wages, that he may have one part to give to his family, as usual, and
the other to provide things convenient for his sickness.
If a family seems too large to be supported by the labour of those
that can work in it, she pays their rent, and gives them something
yearly towards their cloathing. By this means there are many poor
families that live in a comfortable manner, and are from year to year
blessing her in their prayers. If there is any poor man or woman that
is more than ordinary wicked, _Miranda_ has her eye upon them: she
watches their time of adversity; and if she can discover they are in
straits or affliction, she gives them speedy relief. She has this care
for this sort of people, because she once saved a profligate person
from being carried to prison, who immediately became a true penitent.
7. There is nothing in the character of _Miranda_ more to be admired
than this temper. For this tenderness towards the most abandoned
sinners, is the highest instance of a godlike soul.
_Miranda_ once passed by a house, where the _man_ and his _wife_ were
cursing and swearing at one another in a most dreadful manner, and
three children crying about them. This sight so much affected her
compassionate mind, that she went the next day, and bought the three
children, that they might not be ruined by living with such wicked
parents. They now live with _Miranda_, are blessed with her care and
prayers, and all the good works which she can do for them. They hear
her talk, they see her live, they join with her in psalms and prayers.
The eldest of them has already converted his parents from their wicked
life, and shews a turn of mind so remarkably pious, that _Miranda_
intends him for _holy orders_; that being thus saved himself, he may
do to other miserable objects, as she has done to him.
_Miranda_ is a constant relief to poor people in their _misfortunes_
and _accidents_. There are sometimes little misfortunes that happen
to them, which of themselves they could never be able to overcome. The
death of a _cow_, or a _horse_, or some little _robbery_, would keep
them in distress all their lives. She does not suffer them to grieve
under such accidents. She immediately gives them the full value of
their loss, and makes use of it as a means of raising their minds to
God.
She has a great tenderness for _old people_ that are past their labour.
The parish allowance to such is seldom a comfortable maintenance. For
this reason they are the constant objects of her care. She adds so
much to their allowance, as somewhat exceeds the wages they got when
they were young. This she does to comfort the infirmities of their
age, that, being free from trouble, they may serve God in peace. She
has generally a large number of this kind, who, by her charities and
exhortations, spend their last days in great piety.
♦9. _Miranda_ never wants compassion, even to common beggars;
especially those that are _old_ or _sick_, or that want _eyes_ or
_limbs_. She hears their complaints with tenderness, gives them some
proof of her kindness, and never rejects them with hard or reproachful
language, for fear of adding affliction to her fellow creatures.
♦ Number 8 omitted in text.
If a poor traveller tells her, that he has neither _strength_, nor
_food_, nor _money_ left, she never bids him go to the place from
whence he came, or tells him, that she cannot relieve him, because he
may be a _cheat_, and she does not know him; but she relieves him for
that reason, because he is a _stranger_, and _unknown_ to her. For it
is the most noble part of charity, to be kind to those whom we never
saw before, and perhaps never may see again in this life. _I was a
stranger, and ye took me in_, saith our blessed Saviour; but who can
perform this duty, that will not relieve persons that are unknown to
him?
_Miranda_ considers, that _Lazarus_ was a common beggar; that he was
the care of angels, and carried into _Abraham_’s bosom. She considers,
that our blessed Saviour and his apostles were kind to _beggars_; that
they spoke comfortably to them, healed their diseases, and restored
eyes and limbs to the blind and lame; that _Peter_ said to the beggar
that wanted an alms from him, _Silver and gold have I none, but such
as I have, give I thee; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise
up and walk_. _Miranda_ therefore never treats beggars with disregard
and aversion; but imitates the kindness of our Saviour and his
apostles towards them; and tho’ she cannot, like them, work miracles
for their relief, yet she relieves them with that power that she hath;
and may say with the apostle, _such as I have give I thee, in the name
of Jesus Christ_.
It may be, says _Miranda_, that I may often give to those that do not
deserve it, or that will make an _ill use_ of my alms. But what then?
Is not this the very method of divine goodness? Does not God make
_his sun to rise on the evil and on the good_? Is not this the very
_goodness_ that is recommended to us in scripture, that by imitating
of it, we may be children of our Father which is in heaven, _who
sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust_? And shall I with-hold a
little _money_ or _food_ from my fellow-creature, for fear he should
not be good enough to receive it of me? Do I beg of God to deal with
me, not according to my merit, but according to his own goodness; and
shall I be so absurd, as to with-hold my charity from a poor brother,
because he may perhaps not deserve it? Shall I use a _measure_ towards
him, which I pray God never to use towards me?
Besides, where has the scripture made _merit_ the rule or measure of
charity? On the contrary, the scripture saith, _If thy enemy hunger,
feed him; if he thirst, give him drink_.
Now this plainly teaches us, that the _merit_ of persons is to be no
rule of our charity, but that we are to do acts of kindness to those
that _least_ of all deserve it. For if I am to _love_ and do good
to my worst enemies; notwithstanding all their _spite_ and _malice_,
surely _merit_ is no measure of charity. If I am not to with-hold my
charity from such bad people, surely I am not to deny alms to poor
beggars, whom I do not know to be bad people.
♦11. You will perhaps say, that by this means I encourage people to
be _beggars_. But the same thoughtless objection may be made against
_all kinds_ of charities, for they may encourage people to depend
upon them. The same may be said against _forgiving_ our enemies, for
it may _encourage_ people to do us hurt. The same may be said, even
against the goodness of God, that by pouring his blessings on the evil
and on the good, on the just and on the unjust, evil and unjust men
are _encouraged_ in their wicked ways. The same may be said against
cloathing the naked, or giving medicines to the sick, for that may
encourage people to _neglect_ themselves, and be _careless_ of their
health. But when the _love of God dwelleth in you_, and has filled you
with bowels of mercy, you will make no more such objections as these.
♦ Number 10 omitted in text.
When you are at any time turning away the _poor_, the _old_, the
_sick_ and _helpless_ traveller, the _lame_, or the _blind_, ask
yourself this question, Do I sincerely wish these poor creatures
may be as happy as _Lazarus_, that was carried by _angels_ into
_Abraham_’s bosom? Do I sincerely desire that God would make them
fellow-heirs with me in eternal glory? Now if you search into your
soul, you will find that there is none of these motions there, that
you are wishing nothing of this. For it is impossible for any one
heartily to wish a poor creature so _great_ a happiness, and yet
not have a heart to give him a _small_ alms. For this reason, says
_Miranda_, as far as I can, I give to _all_, because I pray to God to
forgive _all_; and I cannot refuse an alms to those whom I pray God
to bless, whom I wish to be partakers of _eternal glory_; but am glad
to shew some degree of love to such, as, I hope, will be the objects
of the infinite love of God. And if, as our Saviour has assured us,
_it be more blessed to give than to receive_, we ought to look upon
those that ask our alms, as so many _friends_ and _benefactors_ that
come to do us a greater good than they can receive; that come to be
_witnesses_ of our charity, to be _monuments_ of our love, to _appear_
for us at the day of judgment, and to help us to a blessedness greater
than our alms can bestow on them.
12. This is the spirit, and this is the life of _Miranda_; and if she
lives ten years longer, she will have spent _sixty hundred_ pounds
in charity; for that which she allows herself, may fairly be reckoned
among her _alms_.
When she dies, she must shine amongst _apostles_, and _saints_, and
_martyrs_; she must stand among the _first servants_ of God, and be
glorious among those that have fought the good fight, and finished
their course with joy.
13. Now this life of _Miranda_, however contrary to the fashion of the
world, is yet suitable to the true spirit of Christianity.
To live as she does, is as truly suitable to the gospel of Christ, as
to be _baptized_, or receive the _sacrament_.
Her spirit is that which animated the _saints_ of former ages; and
it is because they lived as she does, that we now celebrate their
memories, and praise God for their examples.
There is nothing _whimsical_, _trifling_, or _unreasonable_ in her
character; but every thing there described, is a proper instance of
solid piety.
14. It is as easy to shew, that it is _whimsical_ to go to church,
as that it is whimsical to observe any of these rules. For all
_Miranda_’s rules of living to God, of spending her _time_ and
_fortune_, of eating, working, dressing, and conversing, are as
substantial parts of an holy life, as devotion and prayer.
For there is nothing to be said for the wisdom of _devotion_, but what
is as good an argument for the wise and reasonable use of _apparel_.
If you fancy that it is your _only folly_, and that therefore there
can be no great matter in it, you are like those that think they are
only guilty of the folly of covetousness or ambition. Now though some
people may live so plausible a life, as to appear chargeable with no
other fault than covetousness or ambition; yet the case is not as it
appears, for covetousness or ambition cannot subsist in a heart that
is in other respects rightly devoted to God.
In like manner, though some may spend most that they have in needless
ornaments, and yet seem in other respects truly pious, yet it is
certainly false; for it is impossible for a mind that is in a _true
state_ of religion, to be vain in the use of cloaths. Now to convince
you of this, let us suppose that some _eminent saint_, for instance,
the _Virgin Mary_ was sent into the world for a few years, and that
you was going to her to be edified by her piety, would you expect to
find her dressed out and adorned in fine and expensive cloaths? No:
you would know in your own mind, that it was as impossible as to find
her learning to _dance_. Do but add _saint_, or _holy_, to any person,
either _man_ or _woman_, and your own mind tells you immediately,
that such a character cannot admit of the vanity of fine apparel. A
_saint_ finely dressed, is as great nonsense, as an _apostle_ in an
_embroidered suit_. Every one’s own natural sense convinces him of the
inconsistency of these things.
♦16. Now what is the reason, that when you think of a _saint_,
you cannot admit the vanity of apparel? Is it not because it is
inconsistent with such a right state of heart? And is not this a
demonstration, that where such vanity is admitted, there a right state
of heart is wanted? For as certainly as the _Virgin Mary_ could not
indulge herself, or conform to the vanity of the world in _dress_ and
_figure_; so certain is it, that none can indulge themselves in this
vanity, but those who want her piety of heart; and consequently it
must be owned, that all needless and expensive finery is the effect
of a disordered heart.
♦ Number 15 omitted in text.
_Covetousness_ is not a crime, because there is any harm in _gold_
or _silver_; but because it is a foolish and unreasonable state of
mind, that is fallen from its true good, and sunk into such a poor
and wretched satisfaction.
In like manner, the _expensive finery_ of dress is not a crime,
because there is any thing good or evil in cloaths, but because the
expensive ornaments of cloathing shews a _foolish_ and _unreasonable_
state of heart, that is fallen from right notions of human nature,
and turns the necessities of life into so many instances of pride and
folly.
17. This therefore is the way that you are to judge of the crime of
vain apparel: it is an offence against the _proper use_ of cloaths, as
covetousness is an offence against the proper use of money: it is an
indulgence of _proud_ and _unreasonable_ tempers, an offence against
the _humility_ and _sobriety_ of the Christian spirit: it is an
offence against all those doctrines that require you to do all to the
_glory_ of God, and an offence against all those texts of scripture,
that command you to _love_ your neighbour as yourself, to _feed_ the
hungry, to _cloath_ the naked, and do _all works_ of charity that you
are able. So that you must not deceive yourself with saying, where
can be the harm of _cloaths_? For the covetous man might as well say,
where can be the harm of _gold_ or _silver_? But you must consider,
that it is a great deal of harm to want that _wise_ and _reasonable_
state of heart, which is according to the spirit of religion, and
which no one can have in the manner that he ought to have it, who
indulges himself either in the _vanity_ of dress, or the _desire_ of
riches.
18. Some persons perhaps, who admire the life of _Miranda_, may
say, how can it be proposed as a common example? How can we that are
married, or we who are under the direction of our parents, imitate
such a life?
It is answered, just as you may imitate the life of our blessed
Saviour and his apostles. The circumstances of our Saviour’s life,
and the state and condition of his apostles, were more different from
yours than that of _Miranda_ is; and yet their life is the common
example that is proposed to all Christians.
It is their _spirit_ therefore, their piety, their love of God, that
you are to imitate, and not the particular form of their life.
Act under God as they did, direct your common actions to that end
which they did, practise such love of God, such charity to your
neighbour, such humility and self-denial, as they did; and then,
though you are only teaching your own children, and St. _Paul_ is
converting nations, yet you are following his steps, and acting after
his example.
19. Don’t think therefore, that you can’t or need not be like
_Miranda_, because you are not in her state of life: for as the same
spirit and temper would have made _Miranda_ a _saint_, tho’ she had
been forced to labour for a maintenance; so if you will aspire after
her spirit, every _condition_ of life will furnish you with sufficient
means of employing it.
_Miranda_ is what she is, because she does every thing in the name,
and with regard to her duty to God; and when you do the same, you will
be exactly like her, though you are never so different in your outward
state.
You are married, you say; therefore you have not your _time_ and
_fortune_ in your power as she has.
It is true; therefore you cannot spend _so much_ time, nor _so much_
money in the manner that she does.
But _Miranda_’s perfection does not consist in this, that she spends
_so much_ time, or _so much_ money in such a manner, but that she is
careful to make the best use of all the time and money which she has.
Do you this, and then you are like _Miranda_.
If she has _two hundred pounds_ a year, and you have only _two mites_,
have you not the more reason to be exceeding exact in the wisest use
of it? If she has a great deal of time, and you have but a little,
ought you not to be the more _watchful_ and _circumspect_, lest that
_little_ should be lost?