Account of Christ's sitting over against the Treasury--He particularly
notices the Conduct of an obscure Individual--She casts in two Mites--it
is to be viewed as a religious Offering--the Ground on which it is
eulogized by Christ--the Example honorable to the female Sex--People
charitable from different Motives--two Reasons which might have been
pleaded as an Apology for withholding this Donation, she was poor and a
Widow--Her pious Liberality notwithstanding--all have Something to
give--the most trifling Sum of Importance--the Habit of bestowing in
pious Charity beneficial--Motives to Gratitude deduced from the
Wretchedness of others, the Promises of God, and the Cross of Jesus.
Uncharitableness does not seem to have been characteristic of the Jews at
any period of their history, who erred rather on the side of ostentation
than of parsimony. During the three great annual festivals, the offerings
to the temple were very considerable, and of various kinds; although, in
the time of Christ, the country was in a state of comparative depression,
as tributary to the Roman empire. Many individuals, however, were no less
distinguished for their liberality than their opulence. But it is common
to be deceived by appearances; and an action which we may estimate as
good, may be of little value in the sight of that Being who "searcheth the
reins and _hearts_," and who will "give to every one according to
their works."
In the history before us our Saviour is represented as sitting "over
against the treasury;" for though on every proper, and almost on every
possible occasion, he addicted himself to solitude, both for the purpose
of exemplifying the propriety of frequent retirement, and of obtaining
spiritual refreshment; yet, at other times, he mixed with society to
notice and to correct the follies of mankind. His observant eye could not
overlook the minutest diversities of human character; and he never
permitted a favorable opportunity of deducing from these appearances
salutary lessons for his disciples, to pass unimproved. Happy, thrice
happy men, to have such an Instructer at hand--to live so near the "Light
of the world"--to have constant and intimate access to him, "in whom dwelt
all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge!" And happy, thrice happy we,
notwithstanding our comparative disadvantages of time and circumstance,
who possess the recorded instructions of "the faithful and true Witness,"
in the page of inspiration, while "darkness covers" so vast a proportion
of "the earth, and gross darkness the people!"
In the situation which Jesus had chosen, he distinctly saw the people
casting money into the treasury, and particularly noticed the large sums
which many rich persons contributed to this sacred fund. Little did they
suspect what an eye was upon them, watching their movements, and
estimating their motives! It is probable that the majority of those who
came to present their gifts on this occasion, had no personal knowledge of
the Saviour, who assumed no extraordinary appearance, excepting that of
extreme poverty of condition and deep humiliation of spirit; and that of
those who might recognize him, some had been so discomfited by his
superior wisdom in the field of argument, as to feel no inclination either
to dare another contest, or to submit to his decisions; others were too
indolent to make inquiries after heavenly truth, too ignorant to penetrate
beyond his humble exterior, or too fearful to incur the censure of
ecclesiastical authority, for seeming by a respectful approach to become
his disciples; while few, if any, who passed by, were aware that "he knew
what was in man."
If there were many among the wealthy contributors to the treasury who gave
from motives of vanity and ostentation, it is reasonable to believe that
others were characterized by genuine benevolence, and as such approved by
their unknown observer. They were not influenced either by a spirit of
rivalry or pride, but devoutly wished to be serviceable to religion and
acceptable to God. If some came in the temper of the boasting Pharisee,
who is represented as professing to pray in these words, "God, I thank
thee that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or
even as this publican: I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that
I possess"--others, no doubt, as they cast in the liberal offering, felt
if they did not exclaim with the publican, "God, be merciful to me
a sinner."
Although the Son of God has reassumed his glory, being exalted "far above
all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that
is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come;" he
minutely investigates the characters and actions of men, and will
hereafter "appear in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory," for
the purpose of "rendering to every man according to his deeds." The
proceedings of that day will be marked by the utmost impartiality and
justice, founded upon a perpetual and complete inspection of all human
actions, and a most perfect knowledge of their motives.
"Can we think, O Saviour, that thy glory hath diminished aught of thy
gracious respects to our beneficence? or that thine acceptance of our
charity was confined to the earth? Even now that thou sittest at the right
hand of thy Father's glory, thou seest every hand that is stretched out
to the relief of thy poor saints here below. And if vanity have power to
stir up our liberality, out of a conceit to be seen of men; how shall
faith encourage our bounty in knowing that we are seen of thee, and
accepted by thee? Alas! what, are we the better for the notice of those
perishing and impotent eyes, which can only view the outside of our
actions; or for that waste wind of applause, which vanisheth in the lips
of the speaker? Thine eye, O Lord, is piercing and retributive. As to see
thee is perfect happiness, so to be seen of thee is true contentment
and glory.
"And dost thou, O God, see what we give thee, and not see what we take
away from thee? Are our offerings more noted than our sacrileges? Surely,
thy mercy is not more quicksighted than thy justice. In both kinds our
actions are viewed, our account is kept; and we are as sure to receive
rewards for what we have given, as vengeance for what we have defaulted.
With thine eye of _knowledge_, thou seest all we _do_; but we _do well_,
thou seest with an eye _of approbation!_" [40]
After stating the general notice which Jesus Christ took of the variety of
opulent contributors to the treasury, the sacred narrative informs us of
his particularly remarking the offering of a certain individual, whom he
exhibited to his disciples as a pattern of unrivalled generosity. The
comparative value and magnitude of this gift are recorded; and though the
name of this honorable character is concealed, the benevolent deed can
never be forgotten.
We are not informed of the sums given respectively by wealthy persons upon
this occasion, but only in general that they were very considerable:
"many that were rich cast in much." It is astonishing what large
contributions have been sometimes advanced for charitable and other
religious purposes: and from knowing that Jesus Christ selected for
remark, and distinguished by an extraordinary eulogium, the offering of a
certain woman to the treasury, we are eager to inquire who was the donor,
and what the gift so celebrated.
But we must suspend our prejudices. Let us remember, that "God seeth not
as man seeth"--that our calculations of value and of magnitude are often
false, because we do not use the balances of the sanctuary, but are
governed by the erroneous opinions of mankind--and then we shall be
prepared to learn, that on that memorable day, when Jesus sat over against
the treasury beholding the numerous and splendid donations of the rich, a
_female_, a _widow_, "cast in more than they all"--more than any one
individually, and more than all collectively!
What then were her resources? Was she some Eastern potentate, who, like
the queen of Sheba, "came to Jerusalem with a very great train, with
camels that bare spices, and very much gold and precious stones"--a queen
who was able to present Solomon with "a hundred and twenty talents of
gold, and of spices very great store, and precious stones?" No, she was a
_poor_ widow! Our astonishment increases. But some poor persons have great
future prospects, or great present connections. Had she then sold an
hereditary reversion, or borrowed extensively of some wealthy friends, and
impelled by a zeal for God, given it to the treasury? No--she gave only
out of her _poverty_--"she threw in _two mites_, which make a FARTHING,"
or about _two pence_, according to the proportionate value of English
money. [41] This was the donation that led Jesus to call his disciples,
and address them thus, "Verily, I say unto you, that this poor widow hath
cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury: for all they
did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that
she had, even all her living."
It is proper to remark, that this gift was rather religious than
charitable, the offering of piety as distinguished from that of
almsgiving. This will be obvious, upon considering that the contributions
to the treasury were not for the support of the poor, but for the supply
of sacrifices and other necessary services. Dr. Lightfoot states that
there were thirteen treasure-chests, called _Shopheroth_, and collectively
_Corban_ or _Corbonah_, which were placed in that part of the temple
denominated the Court of the Women. Two of these chests were for the half
shekel, which every Israelite was to pay according to the law; and eleven
others were appropriated to the uses specified in their respective
inscriptions. 1. _For the price of the two turtle-doves, or two young
pigeons_. 2. _For the burnt-offering of birds_. 3. _For the money offered
to buy wood for the altar_. 4. _For those who gave money to buy
frankincense_. 5. _For those who offered gold for the mercy-seat_. 6. _For
the residue of the money for the sin-offering_. 7. _For the residue of the
money for a trespass-offering_. 8. _For the residue of an offering of
birds_. 9. _For the surplus of a Nazarite's offering_. 10. _For the
residue of a leper's trespass-offering_. 11. _For whosoever would offer an
offering of the herds_.
Our Saviour eulogized the gift of this good woman less, probably, on
account of its comparative superiority to the more splendid donations of
opulent contributors to the treasury, whose circumstances were so widely
different from hers, than because her motives were more pure and pious.
The intention to purchase renown or self-approbation, diminishes the
excellence of the most costly offering; while the simple desire to honour
God and promote his cause, superadds substantial worth to the meanest
donation. Jesus Christ perceived the workings of genuine faith and love in
this woman's heart, and estimated them at a price above the choicest
jewels or the purest gold.
He saw and he approved the holy zeal of her mind, and well knew that the
operations of her benevolence were restricted solely by the limitation of
her means. These alone presented an impassable barrier to a liberality of
spirit which impelled her far beyond the allowance of a timid policy, or a
calculating prudence; and we may reasonably conclude, that she knew no
regret at the scantiness of her pecuniary resources, and the
inferiority, of her condition, save what originated in perceiving her small
capacity of usefulness. She who could cast into the treasury the only two
mites that she possessed, would have adorned a higher station. Had
Providence placed her amongst the princesses of the earth, while she
retained such a disposition, what an extensive blessing to society would
she have proved! Such, however, in two many instances, is the corrupting
influence of large possessions, that it is always questionable, whether in
the very great majority of cases an increase of riches would not
deteriorate the principle of benevolence; and whether, if placed amidst
the splendid scenes of elevated rank, our eyes would not be soon so
dazzled, as to incapacitate us either for seeing the wants of the poor, or
the necessities of the church of Christ.
How exquisite and how enviable must have been the feelings of this pious
woman, when she cast her last two mites into the treasury! What a noble
generosity! what disinterested zeal! She could not delay a moment to
inquire respecting the means of her future subsistence, or the comfort of
the present day; the impulse was too powerful to be resisted, and was
amply recompensed by an instantaneous enhancement of her happiness.
This example is highly honorable to the female sex. It is not the language
of flattery, but of truth, to say that they are distinguished by acute
sensibility, quick sympathy, and persevering patience in doing good. They
are naturally compassionate, and have the best opportunities of gratifying
a charitable disposition. From constitution they are more susceptible,
from habit more considerate, and from character more prompt than the other
sex in promoting benevolent purposes. They generally require less urging
to useful measures, and the flame of charity often burns with more
brightness and perpetuity in their bosoms.
In the church of Christ, women have ever been pre-eminent in numbers and in
character; they have been the first to profess Christ, and the last to
dishonour him; they have joined the train of his followers, borne the
reproach of his accusers, sustained the cross of self-denial, and aspired
to the crown of martyrdom; they are recorded with marked distinction by an
apostolic pen, "Women received their dead raised to life again, and others
were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better
resurrection;"--in a word, whenever they have been required to suffer for
Christ, they have willingly surrendered life with all its joys; and
whenever called to maintain his cause by pecuniary supplies, they have
been found ready, like the poor widow, to give even to their last
_two mites_.
Some persons will not be liberal, unless they can be praised. They are
anxious to see their names exciting public attention, and their
benefactions proclaimed upon some public list. If you will allow them to
be "seen of men," they will reconcile themselves to make some sacrifice
for the good of others; and overcome their heartfelt reluctance to give,
when they are assured of being repaid in a proportionate measure of fame.
And thus, in fact, their charity is nothing but a sordid traffic; they
barter for renown, and aim to insure the recompense before they hazard the
gift. But we may be assured, that this is of all speculations the meanest,
the most detestable, and ultimately the most ruinous. The poor widow had
no suspicion of the kind of observance to which she was exposed, and no
wish to attract attention. She silently dropped her money into the chest,
and departed. The whole world was, in her estimation, ignorant of the
deed; and the whole world could not have bestowed upon her so rich a
gratification.
Persons of the class alluded to will sometimes admit of concealment. They
adopt many measures to hide their virtue from the eyes of others; they
will by no means court public attention, or allow a formal publication of
their deeds: but if perchance they are whispered abroad, if any
indiscretion betrays them, if though not _written_, they are _stated_;
they are the last persons on earth to feel any offence, and congratulate
themselves on having effectually secured the applauses of mankind.
"Good actions," as the admirable Achbishop Leighton remarks, "cannot well
be hid; and it may sometimes be necessary for example and exciting others,
that they know of it; but take heed that vanity creep not in under this.
And further than either unavoidable necessity, or some evident further
good of thy neighbour carries it, desire to be unknown and unseen in this.
When it must be public, let thy intention be secret; take no delight in
the eyes of men on thee; yea, rather count it a pain; and still eye God
alone, for he eyes thee. And remember it even in public acts of charity,
and other such like, _he sees in secret_; though the action be no secret,
the spring, the source of it, is; and he sees by what weights the
wheels go, and he still looks upon that, views thy heart, the bidden bent
and intention of it, which man cannot see. So then, though in some cases
thou must be seen to do, yet in no case do to be seen: that differs much;
and where that is, even the other will be as little as it may be."
There are other persons who, though they cannot in all cases be censured
for penuriousness, have imbibed a very pernicious error. They plead that
they have scarcely sufficient for themselves, that they cannot therefore
afford to contribute even to a good cause; and that if they were to do any
thing, it must necessarily be so little as to be useless. What, say they,
could our insignificant donations avail in aid of a fund which requires
the most liberal and constant supplies? Could our drop of charity
materially increase the tide, or swell the ocean? Would it become us to
take from our few necessities, what could not much augment the comforter
minister to the wants of others? Or does God require that his cause should
be sustained by the poor, and the poorest of the poor, when he can command
the purses of the opulent, or turn the stones of the desert into gold.
To this reasoning the instructive history we are considering is a direct
reply. There were two circumstances in her lot, which not only merited
compassion, but would have furnished as strong arguments against her
contributing to the treasury as it is perhaps possible to adduce.
She was in the first place POOR--poor in the extreme; for when she cast in
"two mites" it was "all her living" Poverty is helpless. It does not
possess the means of alleviating its own distresses, much less of
assisting others to any considerable extent. "Wealth," says Solomon,
"maketh many friends, but the poor is separated from his
neighbour"--separated by his neighbour's _selfishness_, who is too much
occupied with his own concerns to cast his eyes beyond the narrow limits
of personal interest--separated by his neighbour's _insensibility_, whose
heart is often cold and motionless to pity as the stone which paves his
doorway--separated by his neighbor's _avarice_, who idolizes gold, and
grasps it with unyielding tenacity--separated by his neighbour's _pride_,
who looks with contempt upon his unoffending inferior--separated by his
neighbour's _servility_, who flatters greatness even by acquiescing in its
unfounded dislike of the poor--ah! "the poor is _separated_ from his
neighbour!"
You plead poverty as an excuse for disregarding every claim upon you; but
are you as destitute as this obscure yet excellent woman, who had but a
farthing, and gave it even without solicitation? Be encouraged by
recollecting who observes and who can repay you. Indeed the poor of every
class were the particular objects of the Saviour's attention during his
residence on earth; and he has rendered the tattered garment of poverty
respectable by having worn it himself.
There is one consideration, above all others, which seems to appeal most
forcibly to the inferior classes of society in behalf especially of the
cause of Christ, and to urge some, even the smallest donations, to the
_treasurer_, of the Christian temple, however incapacitated they may be
for other benevolent exertions, namely, that _poverty appears to be the
peculiar object of divine complacency and provision._ It is the common
condition of the people of God, who "hath _chosen_ the poor of this world,
rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that
love him." The vale of poverty seems to be the favourite walk of celestial
mercy. Here she distributes her charities--here she spreads her
table--here she sends her ministers of grace. It was here the Saviour
"went about doing good." The discourses he delivered were adapted to the
poor--he consulted their capacities, instructed their minds, felt for
their circumstances, and relieved their necessities. Whom others despised
he honored--whom others forsook he sought--whom others suffered without a
sigh to perish, he supplied, and comforted, and saved!
The Gospel itself was expressly addressed to the poor, and is peculiarly
suited to their condition; and the messengers of heaven are directed to go
out into the highways and hedges to compel men to come in. The promises of
Scripture are peculiarly appropriated to the necessities of the poor. They
have no _money_; hence the blessings of the everlasting covenant are
described as "wine and milk," and are to be procured "without money and
without price." The poor are subject to _fatigue_ through excess of labor;
hence it is "the weary and heavy-laden," whom Christ invites to "come to
him," promising them "rest." The poor, being deprived of those means of
mental cultivation which the rich enjoy, are usually _ignorant_; hence the
source of the Redeemer's grateful appeal to the Father, "Thou has hid
these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto
babes." The poor are the _servants_ of others; hence we read of "the
liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free," and "if the Son make you free
ye shall be free indeed." The felicities of the invisible state are
represented in terms which form a complete contrast to the present
condition of the poor. Are they now the tenants of the lowly cottage? "In
my Father's house are many mansions"--"we have a _building of God_, a
house not made with hands, _eternal_ in the heavens." Must they now look
on all the fields around them, and sigh to think that they belong to
another?' Through the grace of the Gospel they anticipate "an inheritance
incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." Are they now clothed
in wretched attire?--they may expect to be adorned with "white robes" and
"a crown of glory." Are they now in a state of obscurity--their names
unknown--their condition mean and despised?--hereafter they shall have a
"name better than of sons and daughters;" they shall "shine as the
brightness of the firmament," and "as the stars, for ever and ever." Is
their condition on earth eminently "the _house of mourning_?" Do a scanty
meal, a starving family, a pining partner, a wasting disease for which
poverty forbids their procuring the most skilful means, frequently excite
the bitter, the burning, the unavailing tear? In heaven "the days of our
mourning shall be ended," and "God himself shall wipe away all tears from
our eyes."
Had this poor woman been disposed rather to have evaded the gift to the
treasury than to have volunteered so large a donation as that of "all her
living," the circumstance of her being A WIDOW would seem to have been a
sufficient apology. No condition of life can be conceived more wretched. A
widow is deprived; "of the object of tenderest regard, the soother of her
cares, the defence of her weakness, and the staff of her life." She is left
to bewail in solitude--to suffer alone; or, if her children surround her,
by tracing in their features the resemblance of her departed husband, she
perpetually opens afresh the wound that time was kindly healing, and
blends her fond caresses with tears of unavailing regret. She must now
support herself--and perhaps struggle to supply them, whose childhood both
disqualifies them from affording any assistance, and renders the incessant
vigilance of maternal care essential to their very preservation. If, in
addition to this, her poverty incapacitates her for resisting the arm of
oppression, or vindicating herself against the unmerited reproaches of the
censorious and the impious, her situation is inconceivably deplorable.
Some part of this description certainly applies, and perhaps all, to the
character under consideration. She was a poor widow: and yet the miseries
of her own state did not prevent her casting in a liberal supply, even
"all her living," into the treasury of God. She trusted for to-morrow to
that Providence which had supplied her to-day; a confidence which we
cannot doubt experienced its appropriate reward.
In addition to these considerations, and as a reply to the sophisms
already adverted to, by which so many in far superior circumstances to
this good woman endeavour to fence themselves against the charge of
illiberality, we remark--
1. It is by no means evident that you have absolutely _nothing_ that can
be applied to the purposes of a pious charity. In order to prove this, it
would be requisite to show that all your labour is scarcely sufficient to
procure your subsistence--a subsistence that does not require or admit the
smallest redundancy or the least indulgence. You must prove that you never
pamper one appetite or gratify one lust; and that, in compliance with the
exhortation of Christ, you "take no thought for the morrow." This is a
case of so extreme a nature that its occurrence seems a bare possibility,
and will not surely exonerate those who, if they are but scantily
supplied in comparison with the ample abundance which enriches the
condition of others, have nevertheless the means of a sufficient and
perhaps a comfortable support. From those who possess much, much is
required; and of those who have little _something_--to prove that the
spirit of benevolence is not extinct, nor the claims of humanity and
religion disregarded. You may be unable to pour in gold and silver, but
surely you can contribute _two miles_'. It is an excellent piece of
advice, "If thou have but a little, be not afraid to give according to
that little; for thou layest up a good treasure for thyself against the
day of necessity."
2. Whatever may be our estimate of the merit or utility of a small
donation, the most trifling addition is of some importance. The seed which
is sown in the field of benevolence will bear some fruit and help to swell
the harvest. The immeasurable extent of sand upon the sea-shore is made up
of grains, and the loftiest mountains are composed of diminutive particles
of dust. If the millions who are able to contribute their mites could be
induced to do so, the treasury would soon be full; but if they withhold
them, the uncertain, capricious, and ostentatious, though large
contributions of the opulent, may fail to replenish it.
3. The _habit_ of giving, however small the sum, is inconceivably
beneficial to the contributor himself. It is an important means of
cherishing in the breast that divine principle, which without exercise and
use would be likely to languish: for whatever sentiments we feel, whatever
theories we adopt, and in whatever eloquence of language and warmth of
spirit we expatiate upon the excellences of liberality, unless we _give_
to the necessitous ourselves, the heart will become hardened and cold;
and a _theoretical religion_ can never preserve us from a _real impiety_.
"The peculiar nature of our religion," observes Dr. Barrow, [42]
"specially requires it, and the honour thereof exacts it from us; nothing
better suits Christianity, nothing more graces it, than liberality;
nothing is more inconsistent therewith, or more disparageth it, than being
miserable and sordid. A Christian niggard is the veriest nonsense that can
be; for what is a Christian? What but a man who adores God alone, who
loves God above all things, who reposes all his trust and confidence in
God? What is he, but one who undertaketh to imitate the most good and
bountiful God; to follow, as the best pattern of his practice, the most
benign and charitable JESUS, the Son of God; to obey the laws of God and
his Christ, the sum and substance of which is charity; half whose religion
doth consist in loving his neighbour as himself! What is he further, but
one who hath renounced this world, with all the vain pomps and pleasures
of it; who professes himself in disposition and affection of mind to
forsake all things for Christ's sake; who pretends little to value,
affect, or care for any thing under heaven, having all his main
concernments and treasures--his heart, his hopes, and his happiness, in
another world? Such is a Christian: and what is a niggard? All things
quite contrary. One whose practice manifestly shows him another thing
besides and before God; to love mammon above God, and more to confide in
it than in him; one who bears small goodwill, kindness, or pity towards
his brother; who is little affected or concerned with things future or
celestial; whose mind and heart are rivetted to this world; whose hopes
and happiness are settled here below; whose soul is deeply immersed and
buried in earth; one who, according to constant habit, notoriously
breaketh the two great heads of Christian duty, '_loving God with
all his heart, and his neighbour as himself_. It is, therefore, by comparing
those things very plain, that we pretend to reconcile gross contradictions
and inconsistences, if we profess ourselves to be Christians and are
illiberal. It is indeed the special grace and glory of our religion, that
it consisteth not in barren speculations, or empty formalities, or forward
professions; not in fancying curiously, or speaking zealously, or looking
demurely; but in really producing sensible fruits of goodness, in doing
(as St. Paul signifies) _things good and profitable, unto men_."
The story of the poor widow is eminently calculated to inspire gratitude
in the hearts of those who are mercifully exempted from the wretchedness
of such extreme poverty, which exposes to the temptation of repining at
the dispensations of Heaven, and of pursuing improper measures for
obtaining relief. Nor is its least evil that of cherishing an envious
spirit towards those who are in superior circumstances. From the abodes of
penury and want it is indeed a pleasing fact that Divine Grace has chosen
its objects, and from lowly vales and humble cottages elevated them to
thrones of immortality. We hear apostles saying, "Silver and gold have we
none;" and Bartimeus, brought into the train of disciples from "the
highway-side," where he was "blind" and "begging." And though it is a
delightful consideration, that religion Can alleviate the rigours of want,
and infuse sweetness into the bitterest waters of sorrow; yet poverty,
with its concomitant evils, is an affliction from which, in its extreme
form, we may pray to be relieved. Though in the strictest sense, the
Christian, like the apostle, while "having nothing," may yet be said to
"possess all things;" yet that degree of necessity which arises from
extreme poverty is far from being desirable either for the body or
the soul.
In the most destitute circumstances, however, the promises of our Father
in heaven, and the examples which we find upon sacred record, are
encouraging. "I have never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed
begging bread"--"He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for
the service of man: that he may bring forth food out of the earth; and
wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine,
and bread which strengtheneth man's heart." Of Zion it is asserted, "I
will abundantly bless her provision; I will satisfy her poor with bread:"
and "He that walketh righteously, and speaketh uprightly; he that
despiseth the gain of oppressions, that shaketh his hands from holding of
bribery, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and shutteth his
eyes from seeing evil; he shall dwell on high: his place of defence shall
be the munitions of rocks: bread shall be given him; his waters shall
be sure."
Remember the interpositions of God to supply the necessities of the
destitute. Go to _Egypt_ and _Canaan_, and trace the wonderful
appointments of that providence which supplied the famished household of
Jacob! Go into the wilderness of _Sin_, and behold an extraordinary kind
of dew covering the camp of Israel and sparkling in the morning sun, in
fulfilment of the prediction, "I will rain bread from heaven for you!"
Observe the famished prophet at "the brook Cherith, that is before
Jordan," and see the ravens of heaven descending with bread and flesh to
supply Elijah! Follow Jesus into a desert place, where five thousand
weary, wayworn strangers, besides women and children, are fed by his
liberal hand and his miraculous power! "Behold the fowls of the air; for
they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your
heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of
you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? and why take, ye
thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they
toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon
in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so
clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into
the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or What shall we
drink? or Wherewithal shall we he clothed? (For after all these things do
the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of
all these things."
O, how sweetly does that spirit rest which reclines upon the lap of
providence, and feeds contentedly on "daily bread!" The storms may rise
and the winds may blow--the clamours of human competition may fill the
air; but nothing can disturb his repose. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect
peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee." When
Solomon was about to ascend his throne, how earnestly did he implore
superior wisdom, and how readily leave the disposal of earthly good to his
God and Father! And what was the consequence? "God said unto him, Because
thou hast asked this thing, and hast not asked for thyself long life;
neither hast asked riches for thyself, nor hast asked the life of thine
enemies; but hast asked for thyself understanding to discern judgment;
behold, I have done according to thy Words: lo, I have given thee a wise
and an understanding heart; so that there was none like thee before,
neither after thee shall any arise like unto thee. And I have also given
thee that which thou hast not asked, both riches and honour: so that
there shall not be any among the kings like unto thee all thy days."
Finally, let us deduce motives for consolation under the pressure of
sorrow, and for the limitation of our wishes to the necessary subsistence
of life, from "a greater than Solomon." Who was it that stooped to a
manger and a cross? Who fasted forty days and forty nights in the desert,
refusing to employ his power in furnishing a miraculous table? Who had not
"where to lay his head?" Who lived on the scanty fare of a small purse in
common with the family of his disciples? Who withdrew from the
entertainments of Jerusalem to the humble cottage of Mary and Martha,
cheerfully subsisting on the most homely and casual provision?--HE, who
has taught us to limit our desires of temporal good within the narrow
circle of _one short_ request--"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD."
Sapphira.