Joppa illustrious on many accounts, particularly as the residence of
Dorcas--she was a Disciple of Christ--Faith described as the Principle
of Discipleship--the inspired Testimony to the Character of Dorcas--she
was probably a Widow or an aged Maiden--Remarks on the Reproaches
commonly cast upon the latter Class of Women--Dorcas exhibited as a
Pattern of liberality, being prompt in the Relief she afforded--her
Charities abundant--and personally bestowed--Observations on the
Propriety of visiting the Poor--the Charities of Dorcas often free and
unsolicited--wise and conducted upon a Plan--the Pretences of the
uncharitable stated and confuted--Riches only valuable as they are used
in bountiful Distribution.
Seven of the most celebrated cities of antiquity (Smyrna, Rhodes,
Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, and Athens) are said to have disputed the
glory of having given birth to Homer; and it must be admitted that places
and families acquire an importance from their connection with names which
appear conspicuous on the page of history, and have been praised by the
united voices of successive generations. We cannot hear, without an
instinctive glow, of the cities of Rome, Athens, Sparta, Syracuse, and
others which respectively produced a Cæsar, a Demosthenes, a Lycurgus,
and an Archimedes; of the islands of Samos and Ægina, whence emanated the
resplendent genius of a Pythagoras and a Plato; of the villages of Alopece
and Andes, immortalized as having produced a Socrates and a Virgil.
But let not the enchanting annals of Roman literature or Grecian wisdom
detach our minds from the nobler records of inspiration, or diminish the
conviction which religion must ever inspire, that the birth place of
benevolence and piety is more illustrious than the birthplace of genius
and philosophy. On this principle we look with admiration upon the town of
Joppa, which, if it cannot boast a prodigy of valour, talent, or learning,
is nevertheless conspicuous as the residence of one "of whom the world was
not worthy." She was not, indeed, rich in wealth, but in good works. She
was not a conqueror of nations or a distributor of crowns, but a giver of
alms. She had no name on earth beyond the limits of a small Christian
church, but her record was on high, and her memorial has not perished
with her.
Joppa was the nearest seaport to Jerusalem on the Mediterranean. It was
situated in the tribe of Dan in a fine plain, and has acquired the modern
name of Jaffa. This place is frequently mentioned in Scripture. The
materials for the construction of Solomon's temple were sent thither in
floats, by Hiram, the king of Tyre, whence they were easily conveyed by
land to Jerusalem. Jonah, in his flight from the presence of the Lord,
embarked at this port, and gave occasion to the mythological fable of
Andromeda. Here the apostle Peter enjoyed that remarkable vision, in which
he saw heaven opened, and a great sheet descending to the earth, which
seemed to contain every variety of beasts, and creeping things, and fowls
of the air; intimating to him the abolition of the Mosaic law, and the
removal of those distinctions which had so long separated the Jews and the
Gentiles. It is probable Philip preached the Gospel here in his progress
through various cities to Cesarea; but the history of Dorcas, or, as she
was originally called in the Syriac dialect, Tabitha, has given it
peculiar prominence in the sacred page.
The memorial of this excellent woman is short, but replete with
instruction. Her character is sketched at a stroke, and by the
introduction of an incident as full of significance and interest as can
well be imagined. Dropping those minute details and accidental
circumstances which are not necessary to character, and which the New
Testament so seldom mentions, the most instructive part of her story is
preserved and set in the most brilliant point of light.
She is simply announced, in the first place, as "a certain disciple," or
one that embraced the faith of Christ, and professed it by baptism and a
public union with his church. Whatever might be her situation in other
respects was of little consequence; this was her best, her most
substantial distinction. It invested her with a real glory, which however
overlooked by those who are chiefly attracted by exterior splendour,
surpassed every vain and glittering honour of the world. It raised her to
the dignity of a name in the volume of inspiration, and the unfading
distinction of a place in the annals of eternity.
How poor and how perishable is human fame; and yet with what eagerness is
it universally sought! What is it but like a bubble, excited by some
accidental cause, to sparkle for a moment on the stream of passing ages,
and then to disappear for ever! And yet the love of fame has been called,
and perhaps with propriety, the ruling passion; for so much does it blend
itself with human motives, that there are comparatively few of our
actions, at least such as are visible to the public eye, which may not be
traced to this feeling, or which do not receive a tone from its influence.
But how shall we describe that faith which is often mentioned in the New
Testament, which so marked the character of Dorcas, and which, perhaps,
may not be inaptly called the _principle_ of discipleship?
This term is of various import, and of very extensive application in
Scripture. It signifies belief, and refers to testimony either human or
divine; but is restricted in its evangelical use to the latter. Revelation
in general is the object of faith: and those invisible realities which it
discloses to the mental eye are seen with equal distinctness, and believed
with equal conviction, as if they were capable, from possessing some
material quality, of impressing the corporeal senses. Faith glorifies its
great Object and Author by paying an implicit deference to his authority.
It asks no other bond than his promise, no other evidence or attestation
than his veracity. It not only ranges through worlds which mortal eye
could never explore, but which human reason could never discover: and as
by transgression man has fallen under the dominion of his senses, it
delivers its happy possessor from this state of degradation and
wretchedness.
But though this be a general signification of the word, its more precise
and appropriate use in the Gospel is expressed by the phrase, "believing
that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God." Here the general and the
particular use are necessarily blended. Faith is belief--but belief in
"the truth as it is in Jesus." To believe, in the ordinary sense, is to
admit a fact, to assent to the statement of an accredited or respectable
witness; to believe in Jesus as the Son of God, is to acknowledge his
real character, to perceive his true dignity, to view and to love him,
not only as distinguished by perfect excellence; but as specifically the
Saviour of lost sinners; for "whosoever believeth that Jesus is the
Christ, is born of God." Faith comprehends what he is, contemplates him in
all his glorious offices, and from the manger of meanness traces him to
the throne of power, relying upon what he has suffered and said as the
infallible pledge of what he will accomplish. It is not only well
informed, but humble. It resided in his heart who exclaimed, "Lord, save
me!" It dictated his language who cried out, "Lord, remember me when thou
comest into thy kingdom." It gave efficacy to the prayer of that humble
petitioner who said, "Speak the word only, and my servant shall be
healed." It is pleasing to God, essential to salvation, and his own gift:
for "Enoch had this testimony, that he pleased God"--"a man is justified
by faith"--and "by grace ye are saved through faith, and that not of
yourselves, it is the gift of God."
Faith is not dormant, but active and operative. It resembles good seed
sown in the cultivated soil, which expands, and grows, and produces fruit.
This holy vegetation exists in very different degrees of vigour, according
to the diversities of Christian character, but it is apparent in all--the
mark of true religion, the pleasing verdant hue that covers the whole
surface of the spiritual creation. We cannot point to every pious person
as a Dorcas, who presents a singular fertility of some of the noblest
graces; but of all it may be said, "the root of the matter is found in
them," and "their root shall not be rottenness, nor their blossom go up
as dust."
It is the nature of genuine faith to stimulate to the most laborious
duties, to sustain amidst the most poignant sufferings, to produce the
greatest purity of character, to communicate the noblest kind of happiness
of which a creature in the present state can be susceptible, to nerve the
feeblest arm with strength, to give the dullest eye perception, above all,
to "work by _love_." For these reasons, and because of its transforming
influence, we denominated it the principle of discipleship. It operates by
love to its object and to all its subjects, as well as to the divine
commandments in general; and influences its possessor to practise
universal philanthropy. To the latter our particular attention is now
directed by the example of Dorcas; but it must not be forgotten, that
though the particular specimen of her excellence be taken from the common
offices of kindness and the act of almsgiving, the existence and
proportionate vigour of the great principle from which her minor charities
resulted must be presupposed, as by observing the fertility of a branch,
or the verdure of a twig, or even the greenness of a leaf, we infer the
growth of the tree, its root, its stem, and all its various ramifications.
While we contemplate this flourishing plant of grace, we know that it was
deeply "rooted and grounded" in faith.
The inspired testimony is as follows: "This woman was full of good works
and alms-deeds, which she did." Amongst other acts of beneficence, she was
accustomed to make "coats and garments" for "the widows." Her own
circumstances are not specified. If she were _poor_, as the mass of
Christian converts in the apostolic times appears to have been, her
readiness in furnishing these supplies was admirable indeed. As Paul
testified of the Macedonian believers, she contributed to the utmost, yea,
and beyond her power: nor are these solitary instances of persons
willingly impoverishing themselves in obedience to the fine impulse of a
pious sympathy. While others have calculated, they have acted, incapable
of a cold arithmetic and a measured benevolence. If Dorcas were _rich_,
she is perhaps entitled to a still higher commendation. So many are the
obstructions which "great possessions" cast in the way of charity, so many
temptations to a lavish expenditure, beset the opulent, and to support
this, on the other hand, to a parsimonious, _saving_ habit; so easy is it
to frame excuses, and by trifling precautions to escape importunity, or at
once to silent it; that it may well excite both wonder and delight to find
charity associated with splendour. It is surprising, however, and no less
deplorable than surprising, that persons of this class will not consider
for a moment, how easily, with how few sacrifices even of time or money,
they might be extensively useful. A single drop of supply from their
replenished cup of worldly prosperity, would often make "the widow's heart
sing for joy," and prove a healing cordial to the sufferings of perishing
humanity. A slight taxation upon even acknowledged superfluity, would in
some cases produce an ample revenue for many indigent families, although
religion claims on their behalf more than a scanty and unwilling pittance;
for "he which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which
soweth bountifully, shall reap also bountifully. Every man according as he
purposeth in his heart, _so let him give_; not grudgingly or of necessity,
for God loveth a cheerful giver."
From the sacred narrative, we are led to infer that Dorcas was either a
widow herself, possessed perhaps of a moderate competence, a state which
seems of all others the most favourable to a benevolent disposition; or
one of the class of females, sometimes designated by the reproachful
epithet of _old maids_. And having introduced the term, it may not be
improper to make a short digression upon this subject.
It cannot be doubted that a life of celibacy is unnatural, and contrary to
the general appointment of Infinite Wisdom; consequently, a voluntary
seclusion of this kind from the duties of our proper sphere as social
beings, unless the case be very remarkable, and the counteracting
obligation singularly clear, must deserve censure. By this conduct
whatever important results are connected with the marriage union by the
law of Providence, are deliberately opposed, and the principle is no less
sinful than it is pernicious. But the case of determined celibacy is far
less common among females than with the other sex, and where it does
exist, is usually attended with less evil effects upon the good
of society.
In respect to the two most frequent occasions of continuing single, among
women of piety, the one demands admiration, the other pity; but neither
can, without a total dereliction of all reason and propriety, excite
ridicule. The first which has been made, is that of a voluntary
resignation of the pleasures and solicitudes of matrimony, for the sake of
more extensive usefulness, and at the call of duty. Such is the case of
women who deem themselves required, or are considered by others as
remarkably qualified for foreign and missionary service in the cause of
God, or who, from the high tone of their irreligious feeling, have
ascended to an unusual degree of spiritual elevation of character, and
whether called to labour abroad or at home, are desirous of an entire and
incessant self-devotement to Jesus Christ. These instances are indeed rare,
and can scarcely be estimated by ordinary rules, but they were not
unprecedented in the primitive age of Christianity. Dorcas might possibly
be a woman of this extraordinary character. Her works were at least worthy
of one who was thus bearing the cross, for "the kingdom of
heaven's sake."
The second class of aged single females presents a subject for
compassionate sympathy. They are not solitaries by choice, but necessity:
and whoever sports with their destiny, betrays a cruel, if not a wicked
mind. They have already been the prey of disappointments the most
agonizing to the mind; let them not be the objects of unmeaning contempt
or impious sarcasm. There was a time when the morning of life rose upon
them in all its enchantment and beauty. Every thing around them smiled,
and their yet unwithered hopes were alive to every delightful impression.
Who knows but the object of their tenderest earthly affection was severed
from them by death, whose murderous instrument inflicted an incurable
wound? Who can say, but that the very sex which dares to load them with
contumely for their solitary condition, was, by its base flatteries and
delusive promises, the very occasion of their unhappiness? Who can deny,
but that religion itself might have been honoured by their noble heroism,
in refusing the solicitations of some, who, although distinguished for
many accomplishments, possessions, and connexions, were either enemies to
the Gospel or indifferent about it? They trembled, perhaps, to please
their taste, and "lose their own souls."
Nameless and numberless may be the occasion of an involuntary, and
therefore justifiable celibacy. Besides, how has this condition been
improved! How have some of these venerable women gone about doing good!
What a wise and holy improvement have they made of the dispensations of
providence! Their very disappointments have become the means of increased
zeal in the best of causes, and given an impulse to their activity. They
have arisen from the golden dreams of pleasure and promotion, to the
dignity of the saint indeed. Their temporal sorrows have awakened their
spiritual energies. They have lost the blessings of a family, but have
from that moment adopted, under that sacred name, the whole community of
mankind. Let ridicule be abashed before the majesty of such characters!
The excellent woman in question seems to have partaken much of the spirit
which pervaded the church at Jerusalem in these times of primitive
simplicity and zeal, when all temporal considerations appear to have been
overwhelmed by the hope of eternal blessedness. "And the multitude of them
that believed were of one heart and of one soul; neither said any of them
that aught of the things which be possessed was his own; but they had all
things in common.... Neither was there any among them that lacked; for as
many as were possessors of lands or houses, sold them, and brought the
prices of the things that were sold, and laid them down at the apostles'
feet; and distribution was made unto every man, according as he had need."
Although this community of goods is not to be regarded as an absolute
precedent for our imitation, considering that it is impracticable in all
cases, was chiefly restricted to one Christian society in a very peculiar
situation, and is never enjoined upon others; yet, no duty is more
expressly commanded, or more solemnly inculcated in Scripture, than that
of liberality to the poor. In the enactments of Moses it is vigorously
enforced, it is urged by the prophets and apostles; and represented by
Christ himself as an evidence of the highest perfection of character; "If
thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor."
In those passages where a summary of religion is presented by an
enumeration of its most important points, this virtue is distinctly
mentioned. It is stated as an invariable characteristic of the most
eminent saints, as Abraham, Job, and others; it is often called
_righteousness_, is represented as a fulfilment of the divine law, or the
best expression of our love to God; and while tremendous judgments are
threatened to those who disregard this sacred duty, the most ample rewards
are promised to the pious benefactors of mankind. "Blessed," said Christ,
"are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." "To do good and
communicate forget not, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased."
Such persons are described as "making themselves bags which wax not old, a
treasure in the heavens that faileth not"--as "making themselves friends
of the mammon of unrighteousness, that when they fail, they may he
received into everlasting habitations"--and as "laying up in store for
themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay
hold on eternal life." The equitable decisions of the last day are to be
founded upon a reference to these principles, as the basis of that
sentence which will irreversibly fix our destinies. "When the Son of man
shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he
sit upon the throne of his glory: And before him shall be gathered all
nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd
divideth his sheep from the goats: And he shall set the sheep on his right
hand, but the goats on the left. Then shall the King say unto them on his
right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared
for you from the foundation of the world. For I was an hungered, and ye
gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and
ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I
was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him,
saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, and
gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked,
and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto
thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you,
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye
have done it unto me. Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand,
Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil
and his angels: For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in:
naked, and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.
Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an
hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and
did not minister unto thee? Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I
say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye
did it not to me. And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but
the righteousness into life eternal."
The history of Dorcas is very instructive as to the genuine character of
charity, and the best mode of distribution. It teaches us not only to
cultivate this heavenly temper, but in what manner it may become most
useful. We have here, indeed, a fine and finished picture; and we cannot
do better than study it closely, and copy it with all possible accuracy.
This venerable woman was _prompt_ and _undelaying_ in the relief she
afforded to the necessitous. She was not all promise and all tardiness,
quick to feel but slow to succour. It is not uncommon for the most
parsimonious persons to be liberal in good words, and to superadd the pang
of disappointment to the already almost insupportable sufferings of the
destitute. What is the language of commiseration unaccompanied with
substantial assistance, but a drop of burning caustic poured into the
wounded heart, instead of a healing cordial? To listen to the tale of wo,
and to solicit by apparent kindness its minute and tragical details, only
to mock expectation by professed incapacity, is the very perfection of
cruelty, the forfeiture of a solemn pledge which is given in the very
assumption of a listening attitude, and highly dishonourable; for we have
no right to know the history of distress, if we feel indisposed to relieve
it. "If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one
of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled,
notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the
body; what doth it profit?"
There is a posthumous charity which often purchases to the dispenser
considerable reputation when he little deserves it, and which is utterly
vain to him who is inevitably beyond the reach of human applause or
censure. If the charity of Dorcas had been of this questionable nature, we
should not have read of the widows that stood Weeping by her death-bed,
and exhibiting the various articles of clothing she made "_while she was
with them_." Assured that life was the proper time of action, and that
opportunities of usefulness could never be recalled, she "did with her
might whatever her hands found to do." It is deplorable to see the numbers
who, while possessing ample means and rich opportunities of feeding the
hungry, clothing the naked, and visiting the sick, consume their lives in
forming their plans, or proclaiming their intentions. They are indeed
great benefactors in their _wills_, and with unsparing liberality
distribute their wealth, when they can no longer keep it. They were
bountiful, only because they were mortal; and notwithstanding the
misplaced commendations of their survivors, bestow reluctantly what death
extorts. Dorcas was "full of good works and alms-deeds which she DID." A
person, with whom the writer is acquainted, had specified a large sum in
his will to be appropriated to the purpose of erecting convenient
alms-houses for the poor; but bethinking himself of the possibility that
his life might be extended to a distant period, and that in the meantime
the poor would continue to buffer, and many of them perish without the
projected aid, he became the instant executor of his own will, and lived
for years to be a gratified witness of that comfort which must otherwise
have been so long delayed. It is descriptive of the "good man," that "he
HATH dispersed, he HATH given to the poor."
Another feature in the beautiful portrait of female excellence before us,
is the _abundance and variety of her charities_. Dorcas is represented as.
"_full_ of good works and alms-deeds?" and though I the coats and garments
which she gave to the widows are only mentioned, they are to be considered
as one specimen only of a very extended system of benevolence. She was
neither capricious, nor merely occasional in her bounty; but "glorified
the Father, by bearing _much_ fruit."
Some persons are the mere creatures of impulse. When affected by any
violently exciting cause, they start into momentary vigour, and by a kind
of convulsive effort resist the inwrought habit of their minds, but
instantly relapse into greater insensibility. If a necessitous case be
presented to their attention under deeply afflicting circumstances, with
powerful recommendations, especially from those whom they are solicitous
of pleasing, or with whom they expect to be enrolled in the popular and
widely circulated list of donations, they may at times he found
"_willing_ to communicate," but even then never attain the noble
pre-eminence of "_a cheerful_ giver." It would have pleased them, however,
to have remained unasked; and if by any petty artifice they could have
evaded the application, they would most readily have adopted it, provided
they could have saved their reputation as well as their pence.
You may sometimes meet with persons who are indeed charitable, but their
charity is sectarian. They do good within certain limits, but never take a
wider range; and if they do not "forbid" others, who "follow not with
them," they afford no encouragement to their exertions. They have chosen a
particular spot to cultivate, and beyond the encircling fence which
bigotry has marked out, they cannot he persuaded to impart even a drop of
refreshing supply. What they do seems, in some measure, an apology for
what they omit; but what they omit detracts from the value of what they
do. They are not "FULL of good works."
Others have certain stated charities; and though they have passed the
narrow boundary of party prejudice, have made no provision in their plans
for cases of singular and sudden calamity. Their charity walks in
particular districts, and cannot go a step out of the beaten track. They
have allotted a certain portion of their income to the regular calls of
necessity, which cannot be exceeded, and have a specified circle of
objects which cannot be changed; and, if one may judge by their
comparative callousness to all other claims, it would be natural to infer
that they had taken a certain _quantum sufficit_ from their stock of
sensibility, which bore an invariable proportion to their calculations. In
vain you plead for the most urgent distress, in vain you solicit the
smallest contribution; they have no sympathies left; and, beyond u certain
sphere, they are relentless, impenetrable, and cruel.
In proportion as charity is methodical, it is apt to become cold; and
though we cannot plead for that diffusiveness which is bounded by no
prescribed limits, regulated by no order, or influenced by no preferences,
yet care should be taken lest it suffer by restriction. If this holy fire
be too much confined, it will be in danger of extinction.
Another and a pleasing peculiarity in the benevolence of Dorcas, is, that,
so far as appears from her brief history, her benefactions were
_personally bestowed_. She is represented as _making_ the garments given
to the poor widows herself; and doubtless to ascertain what they wanted,
and the proportion of their respective necessities, she was in the habit
of visiting their habitations, for the purposes of inquiry and inspection.
These visits, besides, would afford favourable opportunities for pious
conversation. How often she wept over their sorrows--what words of peace
and consolation she uttered--what salutary instructions she
communicated--what fervent petitions she uttered, cannot indeed now be
ascertained; but there is a book which has recorded them in imperishable
characters, and a day approaching when they shall be disclosed and
rewarded. "For we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, that
every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he
hath done, whether it be good or bad."
It would be easy to specify many reasons why the charitable should _visit_
the poor. Independently of the inferiority of the impression which is
produced on the mind by the mere recital of the sufferings of others, it
is scarcely possible to obtain correct information respecting their actual
and diversified necessities, without repairing to their cottages. The most
faithful narrator will not deem it necessary or proper to enter into
certain particulars, which the vigilant eye of sympathizing benevolence
would at once discover, and the heart of pity must deeply feel. Owing to
the different effects which the same distress produces on persons whose
natural constitutions are dissimilar, it may often happen that the most
afflicting part of their condition is overlooked; and the prompt
assistance which would otherwise be afforded, is lost through some
omission or unintentional misstatement. "To visit the fatherless and the
widows in their affliction," is no less represented by an apostle as
constituting the best exemplification of "pure religion," than "to keep
himself unspotted from the world;" and in the transactions of the final
judgment, the supreme Arbiter is described as noticing with peculiar
approbation, as even making the very determining point of his people's
character and destiny, their _visiting_ the sick and those in a state of
imprisonment, in order to supply them with the necessaries or comforts of
existence.
Ladies are respectfully urged to these labours of love, from the
consideration that they possess the most leisure and the best
opportunities of doing them. It would prove a wise and pleasurable mode of
employing some of the intervals of domestic engagement, and furnish both
useful and interesting subjects of reflection to fill up the vacuities of
thought. But if the multiplicity of their concerns furnish some plausible
excuse for, at least, a less constant and busy attention to the wants of
poverty; single ladies, on whom the cares of a family have not yet
devolved, should feel it their duty, and will ever find it their
privilege, to be thus devoted to the cause of suffering humanity. Their
time is their own, their property at their command. They are responsible
alone to God and their own consciences; and by these services to the
community are every day and hour giving a practical and unanswerable reply
to the scoffings of an illiberal world. How much better are these visits
of mercy than visits of ceremony, in which useless hours are squandered
away amidst the butterflies of fashion, insufferable fatigue is sustained,
scandal circulated, and religion outraged! Sweet and refreshing is the
sleep of active benevolence: it knows no tossings, is visited by no bitter
compunctions or terrific visions; it is cradled in innocence, lulled to
rest by the music of gratitude, and guarded by the sleepless eye of
Providence.
The habit of visiting the abodes of misery is an important means of
improving our sympathies. They will become less sickly and less
capricious. Those who have only wept over fictitious sorrow, will learn to
shed tears of real feeling at the sight of real grief; and will gradually
associate the idea of doing good with the strong emotions of a genuine
liberality. It is of importance for our own sakes, as well as for the
welfare of others, that sentiments of this kind should fill the mind, and
that the fine edge of sensibility should never be blunted. Some, it is
true, are very little solicitous for the improvement of any of their
faculties; but let them remember that the faculty which is not improved,
usually and almost necessarily suffers deterioration; and that he who does
not warm and expand into benevolence, is likely to contract into
contemptible selfishness.
Mere pecuniary aid, or indeed any other form of donation, is after all a
cheap description of charity. The most avaricious persons may sometimes.
resort to annual or other stated contributions, as expedients to save
trouble and to pacify conscience; and while we duly appreciate this
periodical goodness, it is insufficient as the basis of a claim to
philanthropy of spirit. How many in the carpeted walks of wealth will
readily purchase, by this means, an exemption from the inconvenience of
soiling their shoes, or hurting their delicacy, by going to witness scenes
of real distress.
Ladies of opulence or of leisure should reflect further, that in paying an
occasional visit to the dwellings of poverty and suffering, they are not
only likely to discover many cases of silent, unobtrusive wretchedness,
which but for their personal inquiries and researches might sink into the
grave without the smallest relief, while clamorous wo sometimes gains the
ear of the most thoughtless passenger, but they become the means of
imparting a twofold blessing. In addition to what they give, the sense of
their sympathy enhances the favour, and it is received with double
pleasure. Man is possessed of a social principle, which operates with
peculiar energy in cases of affliction. As a consciousness of neglect
excites disgust and resentment, so a conviction of being the object of
solicitude and sympathy produces the most grateful emotions. It may,
therefore be safely asserted, that a donation to the poor, when
_personally_ bestowed by the donor, is, in consequence of the effect
produced on the _mind_ of the sufferer, of incalculably greater importance
and use than the same or even a superior sum contributed by the cold
agency of some unfeeling distributor. Besides, a charitable soul has a
perpetual feast. Who can remain an unaffected spectator of the tearful
eye--the speaking look--the thankful smile? The very silence which an
overwhelming sense of kindness imposes, is more delightful to a benevolent
spirit than dainties to the taste or music to the ear.
In dispensing charity, many valuable acquisitions may be gained. It is, in
fact, a profitable service; and he makes an excellent exchange indeed,
who, while bestowing money or goods to assist the poor, obtains
substantial instruction. Here then, in the meanest hovel, in the most
shattered and weather-beaten shed, amidst cries of distress and sights of
sorrow, the wisest may gain knowledge. What a lesson of gratitude is
taught in every scene and circumstance! Who maketh thee to differ from
another in point of temporal possession, mental superiority, or religious
distinction? What hast thou, that thou hast not _received_? That humble
cottager is human, like thyself! That nest of callowness and weakness
contains the same species with thyself, on whom Providence has bestowed
wings to soar to heights of prosperity and enjoyment. Thou art descended
from the same common Father, and art heir of the same common dust! Thy
life is no less precarious, if it be less wretched, than that which
animates a meaner clay, and breathes in a less decorated exterior! If the
one be porcelain, and the other earthen ware, both are brittle! "God hath
made of one blood all nations of men." Sometimes a cottage furnishes an
impressive lesson respecting the _independence of happiness upon external
circumstances_. It teaches the salutary truth, that it is in the power of
religion to impart substantial felicity in every condition, to communicate
exalted enjoyment, to form an ennobled character in the meanest
habitation, and to inspire the sublime sentiment of the poet:
"Give what thou wilt, _without_ thee I am poor,
And _with_ thee rich, take what thou wilt away."
COWPER.
Poverty has been the lot of the most distinguished of the human species;
and if ever the vanity of riches, and the incurable emptiness of temporal
splendour are felt, surely it must be when visiting the dwellings of the
_pious_ poor. No riches can inspire their songs of praise, or purchase a
title to their immortal inheritance. No rank or dignity can attract the
eyes of those holy spirits that hover round the spot to which affliction
has confined an outcast Lazarus, or kindle such rapturous sensations and
holy congratulations, as they manifest at the repentance of a sinner.
Piety hallows the dwelling which it inhabits, and felicitates as well as
sanctifies the heart, the family, and the city which it pervades. In the
primitive ages of Christianity, the disciples of our Lord could see the
rapacious oppressor seize the last portion of their worldly goods, and
"take it joyfully;" they could "most gladly glory in their infirmities,
that the power of Christ might rest upon them;" they could hail the
martyr's stake, while they anticipated the martyr's crown; and, in the
days of Paul and Silas, if there were a spot on earth where celestial joy
took up her residence, it was, at least for one happy night, in the very
dungeon of persecution.
To return to Dorcas. Her character is so described, as to imply that hers
were _free_, and often _unsolicited charities_. She did not indolently
wait for applications, or contrive a thousand delays, while misery was
pining into the grave; but, like her Divine Master, "_went about_ doing
good." She penetrated the obscurest retreats, not waiting to be pressed
and urged to afford a trifling relief; but her benevolence resembled the
course of the sun, which pours its beneficent radiance upon the earth with
undistinguishing liberality. It ought not to be forgotten, that
sometimes minds of the most delicate constitution are involved in all the
miseries of poverty, and placed in a situation of all others the most
painful, that of persons reduced from former competency and comfort. The
privations of life are far more sensibly felt by those who have once known
plenteousness. To them the wind of adversity blows with tenfold keenness,
and the crust of want seems peculiarly unpalatable. They are reluctant,
not to say "ashamed, to beg." The blushes of an instinctive sensibility
suffuse their countenances, and petitions for assistance falter on their
tongues. They have to contend not only with the afflictions of poverty,
but with all the timidity which a consciousness of degradation
superinduces. In many cases of this description, persons of eminent worth
have been found, who could not overcome their scruples, till absolute want
forced them abroad to suffer the rebuffs of an unfeeling world, or to gain
the scanty pittance which mere importunity extorted from reluctant
opulence. Dorcas is celebrated for having particularly selected such a
class of sufferers. She had sought out the _widows_, who had lost their
dearest relatives, by whose daily and cheerful labours they were perhaps
enabled to live in decent sufficiency, or by whose sympathizing tenderness
they were at least consoled amidst inevitable sorrows. The weakness of
their sex, or the infirmities of their advanced age, prevented their
contending with the storms of life; and, no doubt, many of them surrounded
by a numerous family, at the decease of the beloved of their hearts, were
left to struggle with accumulated difficulties.
Women on whom Providence has bestowed a sufficiency, might here find ample
means of usefulness among persons of their own sex. A helping hand might
rescue many a widow from the deep waters of overwhelming grief: a trifling
sum would in many cases prove an inestimable boon; and a very small
expense of time and trouble might produce the most valuable results. A
well-constructed system of benevolence resembles a fine adjustment of
mechanism: by a gentle force or a moderate supply, judiciously applied,
the whole machinery is kept in motion, and the greatest burdens
are removed.
This leads us to remark another characteristic feature in the charity of
Dorcas. It was _wise_ and _prudential_. She had a _plan_ which was not
only unexceptionable, but singularly excellent and worthy of imitation.
This consisted in furnishing the poor with substantial assistance, and
providing for the proper application of her aid to their real and most
pressing necessities. She made "coats and garments" for widows. It is to
be feared, that the good intentions of persons charitably disposed are
often frustrated by the improper manner in which they render assistance to
the poor. They fulfil the impulse of a benevolent spirit by sending or
giving their money, leaving the mode of its expenditure to their own
judgment. But it is notorious, that such as are in reduced circumstances,
and who feel the particular pressure of the moment which they are most
anxious to relieve, have very little sense of the real value of money and
of the propriety of providing against the difficulties of futurity. They
take the cordial to-day, draining out every drop, forgetting that the
phial will be empty to-morrow. In consequence of this extreme improvidence
and inconsideration, the pecuniary help they receive frequently does
little good, and fails of all the purposes which a pious charity intended.
The depravity of mankind, which must be expected to operate in the poor
as well as in the rich, is another occasion of the misuse of benevolent
aid. The friendly supply is consumed upon their lusts. Abandoned in
character and selfish in principle, many heads of poor families addict
themselves to bad company, despoiling their families of their earnings and
of charitable supplies, and stupifying their consciences in the cup of
intoxication. The discovery of such a misapplication ought not to
extinguish the feeling of sympathy, but rather excite it afresh; both
because the individuals themselves are to be doubly pitied for their
destitution of moral feeling and want of religion, as well as of necessary
subsistence, and because their outraged families demand renewed attention.
It ought also to render liberal persons particularly watchful of the use
which is made of their benefactions. It should not shut the heart, but
regulate the course of feeling. The sin of others does not exempt us from
the duty of contributing to the alleviation of their miseries, though it
ought to induce us to study the best expedients for counteracting it. It
is in fact quite as requisite that we should see to the application of
what is given as to give, in all cases where this is possible or
convenient. Dorcas appears to have adopted the useful plan of expending
the money which she appropriated to the poor widows, _for them_; partly
because she was probably better able to judge of the most useful mode of
assisting them, and partly because the very same sum would prove doubly
efficient in consequence of the savings which would acrue from working
with her own hands.
The pretences by which men excuse themselves from giving to the poor are
stated, and satisfactorily answered, by Dr. Paley, [43] in the following
words: "1. 'That they have nothing to spare,' _i.e._ nothing for which
they have not provided some other use: nothing which their plan or
expense, together with the savings they have resolved to lay by, will not
exhaust: never reflecting whether it be in their _power_, or that it is
their _duty_, to retrench their expenses, and contract their plan, 'that
they may give to them that need: or rather that this ought to have been
part of their plan originally.
"2. 'That they have families of their own, and that charity begins at
home.' The extent of this plea will be considered when we come to explain
the duty of parents."
_N. B._ The explanation is, that the duties of parents comprehend
"maintenance, education, and a reasonable provision for the child's
happiness in respect to outward condition.... A father of a family is
bound to adjust his economy with a view to these demands upon his fortune;
and until a sufficiency for these ends is acquired, or in due time
_probably_ will be acquired (for in human affairs _probability_ ought to
content us,) frugality and exertions of industry are duties. He is also
justified in declining expensive liberality: for, to take from those who
want, to give to those who want, adds nothing to the stock of public
happiness. Thus far, therefore, and no farther, the plea of 'children,' of
'large families,' charity begins at home,' &c. is an excuse for parsimony,
and an answer to those who solicit our bounty. Beyond this point, as the
use of riches becomes less, the desire of _laying up_ should abate
proportionably.
"3. 'That charity does not consist in giving money, but in benevolence,
philanthropy, love to all mankind, goodness of heart,' &c. Hear St. James:
"If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of
you say unto them, Depart in peace; be ye warmed and filled;
notwithstanding _ye give them not those things which are needful to the
body_; what doth it profit?" James ii. 15, 16.
"4. 'That giving to the poor is not mentioned in St. Paul's description of
charity in the thirteenth chapter of his first epistle to the
Corinthians.' This is not a description of charity, but of good nature;
and it is not necessary that every duty be mentioned in every place.
"5. 'That they pay the poor-rates.' They might as well allege that they
pay their debts: for the poor have the same right to that portion of a
man's property which the laws assign to them, that the man himself has to
the remainder.
"6. 'That they employ many poor persons:'--for their own sake, not the
poor's;--otherwise it is a good plea.
"7. 'That the poor do not suffer so much as we imagine; that education and
habit have reconciled them to the evils of their condition, and make them
easy under it.' Habit can never reconcile human nature to the extremities
of cold, hunger, and thirst, any more than it can reconcile the hand to
the touch of a red hot iron; besides, the question is not, how unhappy any
one is, but how much more happy we can make him.
"8. 'That these people, give them what you will, will never thank you, or
think of you for it.' In the first place, this is not true; in the second
place, it was not for the sake of their thanks that you relieved them.
"9. 'That we are liable to be imposed upon.' If a due inquiry be made, our
merit is the same; besides that the distress is generally real, although
the cause be untruly stated. "10. 'That they should apply to their
parishes.' This is not always practicable: to which we may add, that there
are many requisites to a comfortable subsistence which parish relief does
not supply; and that there are some, who would suffer almost as much from
receiving parish relief as by the want of it; and lastly, that there are
many modes of charity to which this answer does not relate at all.
"11. 'That giving money encourages idleness and vagrancy.' This is true
only of injudicious and indiscriminate generosity.
"12. 'That we have too many objects of charity at home, to bestow any
thing upon strangers; or that there are other charities, which are more
useful, or stand in greater need.' The value of this excuse depends
entirely upon the _fact_, whether we actually relieve those neighbouring
objects, and contribute to those other charities.
"Besides all these excuses, pride, or prudery, or delicacy, or love of
ease, keep one half of the world out of the way of observing what the
other half suffer."
The sentiments expressed by the profound Dr. Barrow [44] will form an
appropriate conclusion to the present chapter.
"If we contemplate our wealth itself, we may therein descry great motives
to bounty. Thus to employ our riches, is really the best use they are
capable of; not only the most innocent, most worthy, most plausible; but
the most safe, most pleasant, most advantageous, and consequently in all
respects most prudent way of disposing of them. To keep them close,
without using or enjoying them at all, is a most sottish extravagance or a
strange kind of madness; a man thence affecting to be rich, quite
impoverished himself, dispossesseth himself of all, and alienateth from
himself his estate; his gold is no more his than when it was in the
Indies, or lay hid in the mines; his corn is no more his than if it stood
growing in Arabia or China; he is no more owner of his lands than he is
master of Jerusalem or Grand Cairo; for what difference is there, whether
distance of place or baseness of mind sever things from him? whether his
own heart or another man's hand detain them from his use? whether he hath
them not at all, or hath them to no purpose? whether one is a beggar out
of necessity or choice? is pressed to want, or a volunteer thereto? Such
an one may fancy himself rich, and others, as wise as himself, may repute
him so; but so distracted persons, to themselves and to one another do
seem great princes, and style themselves such; with as much reason almost
he might pretend to be wise or to be good. Riches are Χρηματα things
whose nature consists in usefulness; abstract that, they become nothing,
things of no consideration or value; he that hath them is no more
concerned in them than he that hath them not. It is the heart, and skill
to use affluence of things wisely and nobly, which makes it wealth, and
constitutes him rich that hath it; otherwise the chests may be crammed,
and the barns stuffed full, while the man is miserably poor and beggarly;
'tis in this sense true which the wise man says, '_There is that maketh
himself rich, yet hath nothing_'"
Lydia.