bigoted, and those who have never read the full page of their own heart
or been subject to various and crucial tests. How can a man whose temper
is phlegmatic judge justly of him whose blood is fiery, whose nature is
tropical, and whose passions mount in an instant, and as quickly
subside? How can one in the seclusion of private life accurately measure
the force of the influence those are subjected to who live and act in
the center of vast and powerful civil and social circles? The more you
mix with men the less you will be disposed to quarrel, and the more
charitable and liberal will you become. The fact that you do not
understand another is quite as likely to be your fault as his. There are
many chances in favor of the conclusion that when you feel a lack of
charitable feeling it is through your own ignorance and illiberality.
This will disappear as your knowledge of men grows more and more
complete. Hence keep your heart open for every body, and be sure that
you shall have your reward. You will find a jewel under the most uncouth
exterior, and associated with comeliest manners and the oddest ways and
the ugliest faces you will find rare virtues, fragrant little
humanities, and inspiring heroisms.
How glorious the thought of the universal triumph of charity! How grand
and comprehensive the theme! The subject commands the profound attention
of good men and of angels. Under the direful influence of its
antagonistic principle man has trampled upon the rights of fellow-man,
and waded through rivers of human blood, to satisfy his thirst for
vengeance. Its footsteps have been marked with the blood of slaughtered
millions. Its power has shivered kingdoms and destroyed empires. When
men shall be brought into subjection to the law of charity the angel of
peace will take up its abode with the children of men. Wars and rumors
of wars will cease. Envy and revenge will hide their diminished heads.
Falsehood and slander will be unknown. Sectarian walls will crumble to
dust. Then this world will be transformed into a paradise, in which
every thing that is beautiful and lovely shall grow and bloom.
Disinterested and benevolent acts will abound. Sorrow and disappointments
will flee away, and peace, sunshine, and joy will beautify and adorn
life.
Death always makes a beautiful appeal to charity. When we look upon the
dead form, so composed and still, the kindness and the love that are in
us all come forth. The grave covers every error, buries every defect,
extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but
fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look upon the grave even
of an enemy and not feel a compunctious throb that he should ever have
warred with the poor handful of dust that lies moldering before him?
Charity stowed away in the heart, like rose leaves in a drawer, sweetens
all the daily acts of life. Little drops of rain brighten the meadow;
acts of charity brighten the world. We can conceive of nothing more
attractive than the heart when filled with the spirit of charity.
Certainly nothing so embellishes human nature as the practice of this
virtue; a sentiment so genial and so excellent ought to be emblazoned
upon every thought and act of our life. This principle underlies the
whole theory of Christianity, and in no other person do we find it more
happily exemplified than in the life of our Savior who, while on earth,
"went about doing good."
[Illustration: KINDNESS.]
[Illustration]
Kindness is the music of good-will to men, and on this harp the smallest
fingers in the world may play heaven's sweetest tunes on earth. Kindness
is one of the purest traits that find a place in the human heart. It
gives us friends wherever we may chance to wander. Whether we dwell with
the savage tribes of the forest or with civilized races, kindness is a
language understood by the former as well as the latter. Its influence
never ceases. Started once, it flows onward like the little mountain
rivulet in a pure and increasing stream. To show kindness it is not
necessary to give large sums of money, or to perform some wonderful deed
that will immortalize your name. It is the tear dropped with the mother
as she weeps over the bier of her departed child; it is the word of
sympathy to the discouraged and the disheartened, the cup of cold water
and the slice of bread to the hungry one.
Kindness makes sunshine wherever it goes. It finds its way into the
hidden chambers of the heart, and brings forth golden treasures, which
harshness would have sealed up forever. Kindness makes the mother's
lullaby sweeter than the song of the lark, and renders the care-worn
brow of the father and man of business less severe in its expression. It
is the water of Lethe to the laborer, who straightway forgets his
weariness born of the burden and heat of the day. Kindness is the real
law of life, the link that connects earth with heaven, the true
philosopher's stone, for all it touches it turns into virgin gold; the
true gold, wherewith we purchase contentment, peace, and love. Would you
live in the remembrance of others after you shall have passed away?
Write your name on the tablets of their hearts by acts of kindness,
love, and mercy.
Kindness is an emotion of which we ought never to feel ashamed.
Graceful, especially in youth, is the tear of sympathy and the heart
that melts at the tale of woe. We should not permit ease and indulgence
to contract our affection, and wrap us up in a selfish enjoyment; but we
should accustom ourselves to think of the distresses of human life and
how to relieve them. Think of the solitary cottage, the dying parent,
and the weeping child. A tender-hearted and compassionate disposition,
which inclines men to pity and to feel the misfortunes of others as its
own, is of all dispositions the most amiable, and though it may not
receive much honor, is worthy of the highest. Kindness is the very
principle of love, an emanation of the heart, which softens and
gladdens, and should be inculcated and encouraged in all our intercourse
with our fellow beings.
Kindness does not consist in gifts, but in gentleness and generosity of
spirit. Men may give their money, which comes from their purse, and
withhold their kindness, which comes from the heart. The kindness which
displays itself in giving money does not amount to much, and often does
quite as much harm as good; but the kindness of true sympathy, of
thoughtful help, is never without beneficent results. The good temper
that displays itself in kindness must not be confounded with passive
goodness. It is not by any means indifferent, but largely sympathetic.
It does not characterize the lowest, but the highest classes of society.
True kindness cherishes and actively promotes all reasonable
instrumentalities for doing practical good in its own time, and, looking
into futurity, sees the same spirit working on for the eventual
elevation and happiness of the race. It is the kindly disposed men who
are the active men of the world, while the selfish and the skeptical,
who have no love but for themselves, are its idlers. How easy it is for
one benevolent being to diffuse pleasure around him, and how truly is
one fond heart a fountain of gladness, making every thing in its
vicinity to freshen into smiles. Its effect on stern natures is like the
Spring rain, which melts the icy covering of the earth, and causes it to
open to the beams of heaven.
In the intercourse of social life it is by little acts of watchful
kindness recurring daily and hourly—and opportunities of doing kindness
if sought for are constantly starting up—it is by words, by tones, by
gestures, by looks that affection is won and preserved. He who neglects
these trifles, yet boasts that, whenever a great sacrifice is called
for, he shall be ready to make it, will rarely be loved. The likelihood
is he will not make it, and if he does, it will be much rather for his
own sake than for his neighbor's. Life is made up, not of great
sacrifices or duties, but of little things, in which smiles and kindness
and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the
heart and secure comfort. The little unremembered acts of kindness and
of love are the best portion of a good man's life. Those little nameless
acts which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate looks and
little kind acts of attention do much to increase the happiness of life.
Little kindnesses are great ones. They drive away sadness, and cheer up
the soul beyond all common appreciation. They are centers of influence
over others, which may accomplish much good. When such kindnesses are
administered in times of need, they are like "apples of gold in pictures
of silver," and will be long remembered. A word of kindness in a
desperate strait is as welcome as the smile of an angel, and a helpful
hand-grasp is worth a hundred-fold its cost, for it may have rescued for
all future the most kingly thing on earth—_the manhood of a man_.
It should not discourage us if our kindness is unacknowledged; it has
its influence still. Good and worthy conduct may meet with an unworthy
or ungrateful return; but the absence of gratitude on the part of the
receiver can not destroy the self-approbation which recompenses the
giver. The seeds of courtesy and kindness may be scattered around with
so little trouble and expense that it seems strange that more do not
endeavor to spread them abroad. Could they but know the inward peace
which requites the giver for a kindly act, even though coldly received
by the one to be benefited, they would not hesitate to let the kindly
feelings, latent in us all, have free expression. Kindly efforts are not
lost. Some of them will inevitably fall on good ground, and grow up into
benevolence in the minds of others, and all of them will bear fruit of
happiness in the bosom whence they spring. It is better never to receive
a kindness than not to bestow one. Not to return a benefit is the
greater sin, but not to confer it is the earlier.
The noblest revenge we can take upon our enemies is to do them a
kindness. To return malice for malice and injury for injury will afford
but a temporary gratification to our evil passions, and our enemies will
only be rendered more and more bitter against us. But to take the first
opportunity of showing how superior we are to them by doing them a
kindness, or by rendering them a service, is not only the nobler way,
but the sting of reproach will enter deeply into their souls, and while
unto us it will be a noble retaliation, our triumph will not
unfrequently be rendered complete, not only by beating out the malice
that had otherwise stood against us, but by bringing repentant hearts to
offer themselves at the shrine of friendship. A more glorious victory
can not be gained over another man than this, that when the injury began
on his part the kindness should begin on ours.
The tongue of kindness is full of pity, love, and comfort. It speaks a
word of comfort to the desponding, a word of encouragement to the
faint-hearted, of sympathy to the bereaved, of consolation to the dying.
Urged on by a benevolent heart, it loves to cheer, console, and
invigorate the sons and daughters of sorrow. Kind words do not cost
much. They never blister the tongue or lips, and no mental trouble ever
arises therefrom. Be not saving of kind words and pleasing acts; for
such are fragrant gifts, whose perfume will gladden the heart and
sweeten the life of all who hear or receive them. Words of kindness
fitly spoken are indeed both precious and beautiful; they are worth much
and cost little.
Kind words are like the breath of the dew upon the tender plants,
falling gently upon the drooping heart, refreshing its withered
tendrils, and soothing its woes. Bright oases are they in life's great
desert. Who can estimate the pangs they have alleviated, or the good
works they have accomplished? Long after they are uttered do they
reverberate in the soul's inner chamber, and, like low, sweet strains of
music, they serve to quell the memory of bitterness or of personal
wrong, to lead the heart to the sunnier paths of life. And when the
heart is sad, and, like a broken harp, the chords of pleasure cease to
vibrate, how peculiarly acceptable then are kind words from others!
Who can rightly estimate the ultimate effect of one kind word fitly
spoken? One little word of tenderness gushing in upon the soul will
sweep long-neglected chords and awaken the most pleasant strains. Kind
words are like jewels in the heart, never to be forgotten, but perhaps
to cheer by their memory a long, sad life, while words of cruelty are
like darts in the bosom, wounding and leaving scars that will be borne
to the grave by their victim. Speak kindly in the morning; it lightens
all the cares of the day, and makes the household and other affairs move
along more smoothly. Speak kindly at night; for it may be that before
dawn some loved one may finish his or her space of life, and it will be
too late to ask forgiveness. Speak kindly at all times; it encourages
the downcast, cheers the sorrowing, and very likely awakens the erring
to earnest resolves to do better, with strength to keep them. Always
leave home with kind words; for they may be the last. Kind words are the
bright flowers of earthly existence; use them, and especially around the
fireside circle. They are jewels beyond price, and powerful to heal the
wounded heart, and make the weighed-down spirit glad.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BENEVOLENCE.]
[Illustration]
Doing good is the only certain happy action of a man's life. The very
consciousness of well-doing is in itself ample reward for the trouble we
have been put to. The enjoyment of benevolent acts grows upon
reflection. Experience teaches this so truly, that never did any soul do
good but he came readier to do the same again with more enjoyment. Never
was love or gratitude or bounty practiced but with increasing joy, which
made the practicer more in love with the fair act.
If there be a pleasure on earth which angels can not enjoy, and which
they might almost envy man the possession of, it is the power of
relieving distress. If there be a pain which devils might almost pity
man for enduring, it is the death-bed reflection that we have possessed
the power of doing good, but that we have abused and perverted it to
purposed ill. He who has never denied himself for the sake of giving has
but glanced at the joys of benevolence. We owe our superfluity, and to
be happy in the performance of our duty we must exceed it. The joy
resulting from the diffusion of blessings to all around us is the purest
and sublimest that can ever enter the human mind, and can be understood
only by those who have experienced it. Next to the consolation of divine
grace it is the most sovereign balm to the miseries of life, both in him
who is the object of it, and in him who exercises it.
In all other human gifts and possessions, though they advance nature,
yet they are subject to excess. For so we see, that by aspiring to be
like God in power, the angels transgressed and fell; by aspiring to be
like God in knowledge man transgressed and fell; but by aspiring to be
like God in goodness or love neither man nor angels ever did or shall
transgress, for unto that imitation we are called. A life of passionate
gratification is not to be compared with a life of active benevolence.
God has so constituted our natures that a man can not be happy unless he
is or thinks he is a means of doing good. We can not conceive of a
picture of more unutterable wretchedness than is furnished by one who
knows that he is wholly useless in the world.
A man or woman without benevolence is not a perfect being; they are only
a deformed personality of true manhood or womanhood. In every heart
there are many tendencies to selfishness; but the spirit of benevolence
counteracts them all. In a world like this, where we are all so needy
and dependent, where our interests are so interlocked, where our lives
and hearts overlap each other and often grow together, we can not live
without a good degree of benevolence. We do most for ourselves when we
do most for others; hence our highest interests, even from a purely
selfish point of view, are in the paths of benevolence. And in a moral
sense we know "that it is more blessed to give than to receive." Good
deeds double in the doing, and the larger half comes back to the donor.
A large heart of charity is a noble thing, and the most benevolent soul
lives nearest to God. Selfishness is the root of evil; benevolence is
its cure. In no heart is benevolence more beautiful than in youth; in no
heart is selfishness more ugly. To do good is noble; to be good is more
noble. This should be the aim Of all the young. The poor and the needy
should occupy a large place in their hearts. The sick and suffering
should claim their attention. The sinful and criminal should awaken
their deepest pity. The oppressed and downtrodden should find a large
place in their compassion.
Woman appears in her best estate in the exercise of benevolent deeds.
How sweet are her soothing words to the disconsolate! How consoling her
tears of sympathy to the mourning! How fresh her spirit of hope to the
discouraged! How balmy the breath of her love to the oppressed! Man,
too, appears in his best light and grandest aspect when he appears as
the practical follower of Him who went about doing good. He who does
these works of practical benevolence is educating his moral powers in
the school of earnest and glorious life. He is laying the foundation for
a noble and useful career. He is planting the seeds of a charity that
will grow to bless and save the sufferings of our fellow-men.
Liberality consists less in giving profusely than in giving judiciously,
for there is nothing that requires so strict an economy as our
benevolence. Liberality, if spread over too large a surface, produces no
crop. If over one too small it exuberates in rankness and in weeds. And
yet it requires care to avoid the other extreme. It is better to be
sometimes mistaken than not to exercise charity at all. Though we may
chance sometimes to bestow our beneficence on the unworthy it does not
take from the merit of the act. It is not the true spirit of charity
which is ever rigid and circumspect, and which always mistrusts the
truth of the necessities laid open to it. Be not frightened at the hard
word, "impostor." "Cast thy bread upon the waters." Some have unawares
entertained angels.
A man should fear when he enjoys only what good he does publicly, lest
it should prove to be the publicity rather than the charity that he
loves. We have more confidence in that benevolence which begins in the
home and diverges into a large humanity than in the world-wide
philanthropy which begins at the outside and converges into egotism. A
man should, indeed, have a generous feeling for the welfare of the whole
world, and should live in the world as a citizen of the world. But he
may have a preference for that particular part in which he lives.
Charity begins at home, but it may and _ought_ to go abroad; still we
have no respect for self-boasting charity which neglects all objects of
commiseration near and around it, but goes to the end of the world in
search of misery for the sake of talking about it.
Generosity during life is a very different thing from generosity in the
hour of death. One proceeds from genuine liberality and benevolence; the
other from pride or fear. He that will not permit his wealth to do any
good to others while he is living prevents it from doing any good to
himself when he is gone. By an egotism that is suicidal and has a double
edge he cuts himself off from the truest pleasures here, and the highest
pleasures hereafter. To pass a whole life-time without performing a
single generous action till the dying hour, when death unlocks the grasp
upon earthly possessions, is to live like the Talipat palm-tree of the
East, which blossoms not till the last year of its life. It then
suddenly bursts into a mass of flowers, but emits such an odor that the
tree is frequently cut down to be rid of it. Even such is the life of
those who postpone their munificence until the close of their days, when
they exhibit a late efflorescence of generosity, which lacks the
sweet-smelling perfume which good deeds should possess. And when it
appears, like the Talipat flower, it is a sure sign that death is at
hand. They surrender every thing when they see they can not continue to
keep possession, and are at last liberal when they can no longer be
parsimonious. The truly generous man does not wish to leave enough to
build an imposing monument, since there is so much sorrow and suffering
to be alleviated. They enjoy the pleasure of what they give by giving it
when alive and seeing others benefited thereby.
A conqueror is regarded with awe, the wise man commands our esteem, but
it is the benevolent man who wins our affection. A beneficent person is
like a fountain watering the earth and spreading fertility; it is,
therefore, more delightful and more honorable to give than to receive.
The last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the
kindliest soul, is tenderness towards the hard, forbearance towards the
unforbearant, warmth of heart towards the cold, philanthropy towards the
misanthropic.
[Illustration: VERACITY.]
[Illustration]
Veracity, or the habitual observance of truth, is a bright and shining
quality on the part of any one who strives to make the most of life's
possibilities. It irradiates all of his surroundings, making plain the
path of duty, and hence the path which leads to the most enduring
success. It is the bond of union and the basis of human happiness.
Without this virtue, there is no reliance upon language, no confidence
in friendship, no security in promises and oaths.
Truth is always consistent with itself, and needs nothing to help it
out. It is always near at hand, and sits upon our lips, and is ready to
drop out before we are aware; whereas a lie is troublesome, and sets a
man's invention upon the rack; and one trick needs many more to make it
good. It is dangerous to deviate far from the strict rule of veracity,
even on the most trifling occasions. However guileless may be our
intentions, the habit, if indulged, may take root, and gain on us under
the cover of various pretenses, till it usurps a leading influence.
Nothing appears so low and mean as lying and dissimulation; and it is
observable that only weak animals endeavor to supply by craft the
defects of strength which nature has given them. Dissimulation in youth
is the forerunner of perfidy in old age. Its first appearance is the
fatal omen of growing depravity and future shame. It degrades parts and
learning, obscures the luster of every accomplishment, and sinks us into
contempt.
The path of falsehood is a perplexing maze. After the first departure
from sincerity, it is not in our power to stop. One artifice unavoidably
leads on to another, till, as the intricacies of the labyrinth increase,
we are left entangled in our snare. Falsehood is difficult to be
maintained. When the materials of a building are solid stone, very rude
architecture will suffice; but a structure of rotten materials needs the
most careful adjustment to make it stand at all. The love of truth and
right is the grand spring source of integrity. The study of truth is
perpetually joined with the love of virtue. For there is no virtue which
derives not its original from truth; as, on the contrary, there is no
vice which has not its beginning in a lie. Truth is the foundation of
all knowledge and the cement of all society.
Strict veracity requires something more than merely the speaking of
truth. There are lying looks as well as lying words; dissembling smiles,
deceiving signs, and even a lying silence. Not to intend what you speak
is to give your heart the lie with your tongue; and not to perform what
you promise is to give your tongue the lie with your actions. Deception
exhibits itself in many forms—in reticency on the one hand or
exaggeration on the other; in disguise or concealment; in pretended
concurrence in others' opinions; in assuming an attitude of conformity
which is deceptive; in making promises, or in allowing them to be
implied, which are never intended to be performed; or even in refraining
from speaking the truth when to do so is a duty. There are also those
who are all things to all men, who say one thing and do another. But
those who are essentially insincere fail to evoke confidence, and, in
the end discover that they have only deceived themselves while thinking
they were deceiving others.