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 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.

Chapter XI.



Account of Paul and his Companions meeting with Lydia by the River-side at Philippi—the Impression produced upon her Heart by the Preaching of Paul—Remarks on Conversion as exemplified in the Case of this Disciple—its Seat the Heart—its Accomplishment the Result of divine Agency—the Manner of it noticed—the Effects of a divine Influence upon the human Mind, namely, attention to the Word of God and the Ordinances of the Gospel, and affectionate Regard to the Servants of Christ—Remarks on the Paucity of real Christians—the multiplying Power of Christianity—its present State in Britain—Efforts of the Bible Society.

The historical part of the New Testament, called the ACTS or THE APOSTLES, contains a faithful record of the early propagation of the Gospel and the incessant exertions of the first labourers in the vineyard. They were not men who "wasted their strength in strenuous idleness," or dissipated the time of action in "laboriously doing nothing;" but were endowed with extraordinary qualifications and an inextinguishable zeal for their novel and interesting employment. They reflected the light of the Sun of Righteousness upon a dark age, and glowed with the very spirit of their ascended Lord. Remarkable effects were produced upon the moral world, notwithstanding the counteracting influence of human prejudice and opposition; and as they quitted the world, amidst the whirlwinds of persecution and in the flames of martyrdom, they dropped from their ascending chariots the mantle upon their successors in office, who "entered into their labours," and continued "with great power" to give "witness of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus; and great grace was upon them all."

So wonderful are the appointments of Providence, that we find a youth who took an active part in the murder of the first martyr to the Christian cause, and afterward breathed forth an unrelenting hostility against all its adherents, selected as the chief instrument of its extension in various countries. That mighty energy which "commanded the light to shine out of darkness," as he was on a persecuting expedition to Damascus, "shined into his heart," and by a miraculous interposition not only checked him in his career, but communicated to him "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ Jesus," and turned all the energies of his character into a new and most important course of exertion. He became a Christian, a preacher, an apostle, and a missionary to the Gentile world: and while by his indefatigable labours he benefitted so large a proportion of his contemporaries, by his inspired epistles he has instructed the church 'of God in every succeeding age of the world.

Paul appears to have travelled over a considerable portion of Asia and part of Europe. Barnabas, and afterward Silas and Timotheus, accompanied him. In many places he suffered great personal injury, and his valuable life was repeatedly endangered. Having passed through Phrygia and the proconsular province of Asia, of which Ephesus was the capital, Paul and Silas came at length to Troas, where the former had a vision, in which he saw an inhabitant of Macedonia standing before him, and uttering this request, "Come over and help us." This impressed his mind with a conviction that he was called in providence to preach the gospel in that part of Greece; and he immediately sailed down the Aegean Sea by the island of Samothracia and the port of Neapolis, and from thence to Philippi, which was a Roman colony. [45]

In this city, whither it seems probable from the history, that Luke had accompanied them, they remained some days; and here we are introduced to the brief but instructive account of the excellent woman whose name is prefixed to this chapter.

Paul, and the companions of his missionary tour, first met with Lydia at one of the Jewish places of prayer by the river-side, which ran near the city. The Temple at Jerusalem, and previously the Tabernacle, were the appointed places for the public worship of God, in the open court of which, before the altar, the people assembled. But such as lived at a distance, or from local inconveniences could not constantly repair to the place of general association, were allowed to build Proseuchiæ, or Oratories, in one of which our Saviour continued all night in prayer. They had no covering like synagogues, but were surrounded by porticoes, to afford shelter from the inclemency of the weather, and were erected in the suburbs of a city, by the baths or near rivers, on account of the purifications so frequent with the Jews, and usually on very elevated spots of ground. The proseucha signalized by the devotions of Christ was on a mountain. Some have supposed that Isaac went out to meditate in the evening in a place of this description. These were probably the high places of ancient times, in or near which groves were planted, and which are only condemned in Scripture when appropriated to idolatrous purposes. "I am like a green olive tree," says the Psalmist, "in the house of God."

Availing themselves of the opportunity afforded by the resort of devout persons to these religious retirements, these zealous ministers of the Gospel conversed and preached to the people, who on this occasion were chiefly women. But though many were addressed, it does not appear that more than one was substantially benefitted. Her attention was excited, her heart opened, and her profession of the name of Jesus immediate and public. The several points of her character deserve particular and distinct illustration.

Lydia is said to have been of the city of Thyatira; but whether she had removed to Philippi, or was only come for the purpose of trade, is not certain. She was one who "worshipped God," that is, one who, in distinction from the heathen around her, had learned the character of Jehovah, and was probably a Jewish proselyte. [46] Instructed in the ancient records of that extraordinary nation, which had been so many past ages the only depository of divine truth, she was expecting the predicted Messiah; and while, from the natural aversion of mankind to the humiliating doctrine of salvation through a crucified person, the greater proportion of Jews rejected him, she experienced a true conversion, not only from the principles of heathenism, but from those of Judaism, to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. A few instances of this description occur in the evangelical record to show the sovereignty and diversified operations of the grace of God.

That moral change, that spiritual renovation, which has been called CONVERSION, is, we are aware, and ever will be, the subject of profane ridicule amongst unbelievers. It does not indeed produce any astonishment, although it awakens extreme regret, that one of the most obvious effects resulting from the publication of the Gospel of Christ should be so unblushingly denied by this class of mankind. "The natural man discerneth not the things of the Spirit of God, because they are spiritually discerned." The scriptures themselves predict this incapacity, even in some of the most refined and intellectual of our species, to form a conception of this marvellous change; and experience evinces the truth of what they affirm, and which originates in the very nature of things. It is characteristic of human perversity to disbelieve what is imperceptible to reason or invisible to sense, and to vaunt itself upon that very infidelity as a distinctive mark of pre-eminence, which is, in fact, a proof of debasement and guilt. If a system of religion were to be so constructed as to be exempt from the ridicule of the profane, it must be itself ridiculous; because their distorted minds cannot discern the beauties of truth, and their depraved feelings will not admit her claims. To secure their approbation religion must change her character, alter her doctrines, new cast her precepts, and new modify her principles.

Lydia presents an interesting specimen not only of the reality but of the nature of the great work of conversion; and, however contemptible the subject may appear in the eye of a dissipated world, or to the mind of a prejudiced reader, we hesitate not to state the sentiments which necessarily arise out of the present example respecting the seat and source of this change, the agent by whom it is accomplished, and the corresponding effects produced.

1. Our attention is, in the first place, to be directed to the seat of this spiritual renovation. It is said of Lydia, that her HEART was opened. This change, therefore, is of a moral nature, not merely circumstantial, but radical. It does not consist in assuming a new name, professing new opinions, using a new language, performing a few rites and ceremonies, or reforming a few exterior vices, These are only branches—the tree itself must be made good—the crab stock of nature must be grafted with spiritual principles, and by being planted in the garden of the Lord be brought under a heavenly culture. It is then only "the fruits of righteousness" may be anticipated, "which are to the glory and praise of God."

The disordered state of the passions is a striking evidence of human degeneracy. In consequence of this a thousand mistakes are committed, and a thousand follies practised. Each passion is fixed on a wrong object, pursues an unworthy end, and is susceptible of false impressions. Indeed, the will is totally perverted, and chooses, with obstinate resolution, whatever is erroneous and criminal; on which account men are represented in the metaphorical language of Scripture, as "loving darkness rather than light." So astonishing is the degree of this perversion, that the Supreme Good is dreaded and avoided as if he were the only evil in the universe; and, however vain the attempt, guilt is continually seeking concealment in some secret covert, some supposed security from his omniscient inspection. Captivated by deceitful appearances, human confidence is perpetually misplaced, and therefore perpetually betrayed; the siren song of pleasure soothes the unhappy captives of her bewitching charms into the bosom of destruction—the splendour of earthly distinctions dims the eye of sense, and prevents its perception of the bright realities of heaven. In fact, such has been the melancholy effect of sin upon the perceptions of the human soul, that every thing is seen through the medium of sensual passions in an inverted position—good seems evil, and evil good—and till this disorder become rectified by a divine touch, the heart will remain at enmity against God, the refuge and resort of the worst dispositions, and the great central pandemonium of every diabolical affection. Such is the statement of Jesus Christ himself, "From within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness; all these things come from within, and defile the man."

As the intellectual and moral state of man are, in a religious view, closely connected, the renovation of the heart is essentially connected with an important change in the understanding. The latter may, indeed, be considerably improved and informed when no spiritual effect is produced upon the former, but the former cannot be renewed without corresponding and coincident effects on the latter; and the illumination of the understanding is so universal, that believers are said to be "light in the Lord." Their perceptions of truth are not mere gleamings and streaks of divine radiance thrown across the obscurity of the mind, but all is light. Nor is it merely new light diffused over objects familiar to the thoughts, but a discovery of new scenes. The soul, in a sense, changes its hemisphere, emerges from darkness, ascends to the summits of Pisgah, and contemplates the ineffable glories of a new creation. "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away, behold all things are become new." How touching and how worthy of adoption the poet's language:

"Celestial light Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse!"

MILTON.

The total renovation of the heart is evinced by susceptibility of conscience. This moral faculty, in an unregenerate state, is either perverted or hardened. In the former case, our obligations are not clearly discerned, or are easily dispensed with; in the latter, the most powerful appeals to love or fear are resisted. In the progress of sin to its most awful consummation, those gentle whispers which were at first noticed, and made the transgressor tremble till he sometimes let fall the forbidden fruit, are at length unheard. Every intimation is silenced by guilty merriment, which perhaps was at first forced, but soon becomes habitual. Where conscience is not lulled into total inaction, it is, in this state of character, violated with little remorse. The mind loses sight of the glory of God, its best regulating principle; it is alive to personal interests only, and discards every thing of a nobler nature. But, in the sincere and humble Christian, conscience is tender, easily offended with evil, and gradually approximating that state of susceptibly in respect to sin, in which it resembles a well-polished mirror, that shows the slightest particle of dust or damp upon its surface. Such a conscience is no less rigorous than it is tender, and repels temptation with persevering energy. It will hold no debate with the tempter; and so far from seeking to ascertain how far it may advance towards sinful compliances without contracting actual guilt, it will "abstain from all appearance of evil."

In stating that the heart is the seat of those principles and the source of that transformation of character which is comprehended in the term conversion, it is intended to express the permanent nature of the change. It is not an opinion or an emotions resembling the morning cloud and early dew that pass away, but an abiding and deep-wrought alteration. "He which hath begun a good work in you, will carry it on until the day of Christ Jesus;" in consequence of which, "the path of the just is as the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day."

"That such improvements of character often have occurred, and are often taking place now, cannot be denied by any philosophic observer of human nature: to disregard them, or to neglect an investigation of their use, is to neglect one of the most interesting classes of facts observable amongst mankind. Who has not either heard of or witnessed the most extraordinary changes of conduct, produced through the apparent influence (to say the least) of religious motives? I say nothing here of the three thousand converted in one day at the feast of Pentecost—of the conversion of St. Paul and others mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles—because those are usually ascribed to the miraculous and extraordinary influences of the Holy Spirit in the apostolic times. But I may call your attention ttomatters of more recent occurrence. You have witnessed instances of men running eagerly the career of folly and dissipation, who have been suddenly arrested, and changed from 'lovers of pleasure' to 'lovers of God.' You have known others who have devoted themselves early to the military profession, who literally knew no fear, who have spent their lives in the pursuit of glory, who have approached the verge of life full of scars and full of honours, still panting after 'glory, honour, immortality,' but thinking nothing of 'eternal life;' till, touched by an irresistible hand, they have been transformed from good soldiers to 'good soldiers of Jesus Christ,' have buckled on 'the armour of God,' 'fought the good fight of faith,' and following 'the Captain of their salvation,' have obtained 'the victory,' and been rewarded with unfading laurels. Others again, you have known, who have been strong and high-minded, professing never to be subdued but by the force of argument, and dexterously evading an argument when it was forcible, if it were calculated to expose the sophistry of 'free-thinking,' (as it is called,) or to exhibit the reasonableness and advantages of being pious; you have seen them increase in the dexterity of unbelief, and in callousness to moral impression, year after year,

'Gleaning the blunted shafts that have recoil'd, Aiming them at the shield of truth again;'

and when a band of them has gone to church for the purpose of quizzing, or of staring out of countenance some preacher of rather more than usual energy and zeal, have known one of this band pierced by 'a dart from the archer,' convinced that religion is 'the one thing needful,' and though he came 'to scoff, remaining to pray.'" [47]

II. The second observable circumstance in the inspired account of Lydia's conversion is, its accomplishment by divine agency. It is stated that the LORD opened her heart. The effect is not ascribed to the apostle Paul, or his illustrious coadjutors in the Christian ministry. They might speak with the tongue of angels, and hum with the zeal of seraphs; to them might be given in trust "the everlasting Gospel," which, like the apocalyptic angel, they were carrying through "the midst of heaven" to the inhabitants of the earth, "to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people;" they might indeed possess the power not only of placing facts in the clearest light, or urging arguments in the most forcible manner, but even of working miracles; still they could not "open the heart." Indefatigable as they were in their labours, they could not command success. At this precise point human instrumentality ceases, and divine agency commences.

It is by no means an unfrequent effect of ministerial fidelity, to confirm the native aversion of the impenitent to the doctrines of Christ. Pride resists conviction, and fosters prejudice; and however unanswerable the statements, or fervent the appeals which may be addressed to them, the mind still remains unsubdued, the heart is still unopened. It requires the interposal of a mightier power than either reason, remonstrance, or miracle, to accomplish this wonderful transformation of character. Hosts of apostles and legions of angels would be incompetent by their own unaided exertions, to do "any thing as of themselves;" to give light to one blind eye, or to rectify one prejudiced heart.

Human agency, then, cannot be of itself effectual. It is the Lord who opens the ear, the eye, the conscience, the understanding, and the heart. The weapons of that spiritual warfare, in which Christian ministers are engaged, can alone "pull down strong holds, cast down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God," and "bring into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ," being "mighty through God." What would the weapon accomplish, if the hand of Almighty power were not to grasp and wield it? The experience of modern preachers, no doubt, resembles that of their apostolic predecessors in the same field of holy labour. When stout-hearted sinners have been attacked by all the force of argument, all the power of eloquence, all the fire of zeal, all the holy violence of appeal, all the tenderness of tears, and all the terrors of denunciation—and when it might have been expected that a heart of marble thus smitten must yield and break, and yet no emotion, at least no repentance, no relinquishment of sin, and no obedience to Christ has resulted—how often have they retired exclaiming, "O the impotence of human instrumentality!" But when returning to their work, desponding or deeply apprehensive, "going forth weeping, bearing precious seed," they have at length seen the rebel struck, and in a moment abashed, humbled, penitent—melted at a word—his prejudices dashed to the ground, like Lucifer from heaven—his heart opened, like that of Lydia, and the bitter stream of his enmity turned into the sweetness of Christian love—They have paused—inquired—wondered—beheld the "excellency of the power," which was "not of man, but of God;" and have retired exclaiming, "O the omnipotence of divine grace!"

It is an extraordinary circumstance, that the agency of God, in the production of the natural world, should be universally admitted, because no other adequate cause can be assigned; and yet that it should, with so little hesitation, be denied in the moral world. Why is God to be excluded from this superior creation, but because men "do not like to retain him in their knowledge," and because corrupted reason would deify itself and dethrone the Almighty?—And here we have the characteristic distinction between religion and irreligion. The former assigns God as the cause and agent in every thing, born interior and exterior to us. It places him upon the throne, subordinates every thing to his will, attributes every thing to his influence. It contemplates his dominion as infinite, and his will as the law of nature and of nations. It fully believes, that naturally and spiritually "in him we live, and move, and have our being." Irreligion—and we may comprehend in the term, not only extravagant immorality or gross impiety, but a system which is found to exist under the cloak of religion, and the pretence of doing God service—irreligion of every class and in every form is perpetually limiting the empire of the Deity, prescribing bounds to his influence, criticising and defining his prerogatives, and refusing him the "right to reign over us."

The Scriptures uniformly ascribe the first principle, all the successive actions, and the final consummation of religion in the heart, to the Spirit of God. It is the subject of express promise: "And the Lord thy God will circumcise thine heart, and the heart of thy seed, to love the Lord thy God with all thine heart and with all thy soul, that thou mayest live."—"This shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel: After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts, and will be their God, and they shall be my people."—"A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you; and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh; and I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments and do them." The nature of this moral transformation is distinctly stated in such passages as the following—"Born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God"—"Ye are not in the flesh, but in the spirit, if so be the Spirit of God dwell in you. But if any man have not the Spirit of God, he is none of his"—"As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God"—"We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath ordained, that we should walk in them." In the same manner, the increase of religion is ascribed to the Spirit. "He which hath begun a good work in you, will perform it unto the day of Jesus Christ"—"Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ." Let us then, as Moses expresses it respecting the bush which he saw at the back of Horeb, burning, but still unconsumed, "turn aside and see this great sight." "God is every where by his power. He rolls the orbs of heaven with his hand, he fixes the earth in its place with his foot, he guides all the creatures with his eye, and refreshes them with his influence; he makes the powers of bell to shake with his terrors, and binds the devils with his word, and throws them out with his command, and sends the angels on embassies with his decrees.... God is especially present in the hearts of his people, by his Holy Spirit; and indeed the hearts of holy men are temples in the truth of things, and in type and shadow they are heaven itself. For God reigns in the hearts of his servants: there is his kingdom. The energy of grace hath subdued all his enemies; this is his power. They serve him night and day, and give him thanks and praise; that is his glory. The temple itself is the heart of man; Christ is the high priest, who from thence sends up the incense of prayers, and joins them to his own intercession, and presents all together to his Father; and the Holy Ghost, by his dwelling there, hath also consecrated it into a temple; and God dwells in our hearts by faith, and Christ by his Spirit, and the Spirit by his purities; so that we are also cabinets of the mysterious Trinity; and what is short of heaven itself, but as infancy is short of manhood, and letters of words?" [48]

How inconceivably glorious is the beauty of holiness in the renovated soul! That "God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness," should "shine into our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ Jesus"—that the vileness of our nature should be superseded by the purity of grace—that sinners should be pardoned and sin subdued—that the good seed should vegetate in such a barren and overgrown wilderness of desolation—that we who were "sometime darkness" should become "light in the Lord," is truly marvellous. This establishment of "the kingdom of God within us," excites the gratitude of saints, the wonder of angels, and the loud anthems of triumph that vibrate from the harps of heaven. When God made a fair world from a formless mass of matter, "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy;" but when he devised the plan to make a holy human being from a base and fallen rebel, they sung "Glory to God in the HIGHEST."

How animating the consideration, that the hope of salvation inspired in the soul by the Spirit of God, can never be extinguished! The grace that powerfully impels him to take the first step in the Christian life, as forcibly urges him forward to the end of his course. The light which is kindled in his bosom will burn and brighten, and consummate his immortal bliss. It is itself the pledge of this increase and perfection. The felicity of the Christian here is similar in its essence to his glory hereafter, as the first ray of morning is the same in nature with the noontide brightness. It may struggle through obscurities, but will rise to perfect day. Death indeed is rapidly approaching: but as the solar orb plunges for a short season into darkness, to reappear with new splendour; so will the righteous eventually ascend above the tomb and, the worm, to "shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father."

The manner of Lydia's conversion ought not to be overlooked. Her heart was opened. There is something gentle, as well as effectual, in the representation. The Spirit of God not only operates by a variety of instruments, but by a considerable diversity of modes. He descends on Sinai in tempests, and on Calvary in smiles. Sometimes his manifestations are terrible, and sometimes soothing; sometimes he breaks, and sometimes opens the heart. In scripture we are furnished with illustrations of this diversified operation. Manasseh, who "made Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem to err, and to do worse than the heathen," and who "would not hearken" to divine monitions, was taken by the Assyrians "among the thorns, and bound with fetters, and carried to Babylon." He who was unaffected, either by mercies or menaces, in his prosperity, "when he was in affliction, besought the Lord his God, and humbled himself greatly before the God of his fathers, and prayed unto him; and he was entreated of him and heard his supplication, and brought him again to Jerusalem into his kingdom. Then Manasseh knew that the Lord he was God." Paul, who breathed out threatening and slaughter against the Christian church, was suddenly struck to the earth by a miraculous light from heaven, and from a persecutor transformed into an apostle. The Philippian jailer exclaimed amidst his terrors, "What must I do to be saved?" and was not only prevented from committing suicide, but directed to heaven by the doctrine of his apostolic prisoner, which through grace he cordially received: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shall be saved, and thine house." On the other hand, Samuel, Timothy, and Lydia, were "drawn with bands of love." They heard the whispers of mercy, and felt the attractions of grace. Each of their hearts, like that of Lydia, was opened. Passion subsided, prejudice withdrew, ignorance melted away. They were not taken by storm, but made "willing in the day of his power."

The importance of this change is intimated in the remarkable declaration of Jesus Christ to Nicodemus, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of heaven." It is essential to the possession of paradise; it constitutes the very basis of the Christian character; and to be indifferent to it is a mark of condemnation. Its present influence, and its future consequences, are so wonderful, that it becomes us to cherish an immediate and incessant solicitude upon the subject. Look upward—Almighty love "waits to be gracious"—Is it not recorded, and can it ever be forgotten, that "every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened? If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?"

III. The account of Lydia is further illustrative of the effects resulting from a divine influence upon the human heart.

The first of these effects is intimated by the statement, that "she attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul." Her spirit was exceedingly different from that of the hearers of Ezekiel: "Thou son of man, the children of thy people still are talking against thee by the walls and in the doors of the houses, and speak one to another, every one to his brother, saying, Come, I pray you, and hear what is the word that cometh forth from the Lord. And they come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and they hear thy words, but they will not do them; for with their mouth they show much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness And lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument; for they hear thy words, but they do them not." Lydia, on the contrary, heard to profit. She listened, reflected, and "inwardly digested," the truths of the Gospel. She heard with seriousness and with self-application. The doctrine was to her novel and interesting. The Gospel came to her, "not in word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance;" for she "received the word of God which she heard, not as the word of men, but, as it is in truth, the word of God," which "effectually worketh" in believers.

And is this descriptive of our views and feelings? Do we pay attention to divine instructions, and "hear so that our souls may live?" Is the word of God to us like descending manna from the skies, which we go forth with eager haste to gather for our spiritual subsistence? Whenever we repair to "the house of God," are we "more ready to hear, than to give the sacrifice of fools?" Do we dwell upon the lips of the preacher? Do we aim to remember, seek to understand, and humbly resolve to practise what is taught? Or, do we go to public worship with reluctant and hesitating steps, compelled alone by the force of habit, education, example, or terror? When arrived, do we enter with irreverence, assume a careless and familiar attitude, give the rein to our wandering thoughts, resign our bodies or our consciences to unhallowed slumber, or watch with frequent glances the slowly revolving hour that will free us from an irksome service? When retired from public engagements, do we forget God our Maker, dissipate consecrated hours, and at length lose every salutary impression amidst the cares of life, and the subordinate concerns of a moment?

It is possible you may even plead temporal anxieties and business, as an extenuation of the guilt of religious negligences, or as a sufficient ground of exemption from the claims of piety. You are forsooth too busy, too needy, too perplexed in establishing connections or conducting commercial transactions, to pay an immediate regard to the interests of the soul and eternity; and although you at present defer such considerations, you apologize for your folly by saying, it does not arise from aversion, but inconvenience. You do not deny, you only procrastinate. But who has insured your life? Who has perused for you the page of destiny, which numbers the years of your mortal existence? Who has given you any evidence, that the distant day of intentional repentance, shall be a day of health, seriousness, and leisure? Who can tell that the sun, which illumines the path of your prosperity at this period of irresolution, will not, upon the arrival of the predicted hour of penitence, shine only upon your grave? Who has given you authority to invert the order which Christ has established in the admonition, "Seek ye FIRST the kingdom of God and his righteousness?"

But we have a valuable example to cite. Go to Philippi. Learn of a woman, whose name cannot perish, though generations pass away, and the stars become extinct. Lydia was not a person of leisure; she was a "seller of purple," or cloths, which were died of a purple colour, or purple silks. [49] She had surely sufficient occupation, and yet she has no apologies at hand. She was not too much engaged to be concerned about her eternal salvation; but when the apostle of the Gentiles preaches, she must go, she must hear, she must attend. She was "diligent in business," but this did not preclude her being "fervent in spirit." As a seller of purple she could only have become rich—the acmè, indeed, and summit of human wishes, but a miserable barter for real and everlasting happiness; as a hearer of Paul, she might and did become "wise to salvation."

Every thing is beautiful in its season. We must not wander from our proper business under pretence of religion, nor must we neglect religion upon a plea of business. Religion does not require a relinquishment of our calling and station in society, but no civil engagements can justify a disregard of religion. We may sell our purple—but we must also attend to the instructions of the ministry and the word of God. If we imitate Lydia in diligence, let us not forget to imitate her in piety. It is vain and wicked to aver, that, the concerns of this world and those of another interfere; because an ardent religion is not only compatible with worldly occupations, but promotes both their purity and integrity, if it do not secure their success.

Another effect of divine influence upon the heart of Lydia, and essentially connected with her reception of the great principles of Christianity, was an immediate attention to the ordinance of baptism. "She was baptized and her household." In the true spirit of that apostle from whose lips she received the truth of heaven, and by whom she was directed to "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world," "she conferred not with flesh, and blood." With a promptitude which was at once expressive of the sincerity of her faith and the zeal of her mind, she did not hesitate to observe the baptismal institution of her Lord and Saviour. What were to her the wonder of ignorant spectators—the ridicule of her fellow-traders—the reflections of her heathen neighbours—when balanced against the approbation of God and her own conscience? She had "bought the truth," and would not sell it—she had found "the pearl of great price," and went and sacrificed every temporal consideration for it—she had "found the Messiah," and was resolved to follow his foot-steps whithersoever they conducted her. She did not dispute or hesitate, but she obeyed. May the bright example of Lydia stimulate us to a similar conduct!

In the primitive times it is obvious that whoever received the Gospel was baptized in the name of Christ, and to express a resolution to adhere to him. And this obedience is a part of that decision of character which should distinguish the genuine disciple of Christ. He demands it as a proof of love, and by virtue of his supreme authority in the church. The command to be baptized is, in the New Testament, usually connected with the exhortation to repent, because this is the order of things which the Son of God has established, and the most convincing evidence that we have voluntarily devoted ourselves to his service. Baptism was significant of a burial and resurrection with Christ, of being regenerated by his Spirit, renewed by his influence, and separated from all the unholy principles of a depraved nature, and from the sinful practices of a corrupt world. The abundant use of water in this institution was considered as illustrative of the purifying influences of the Holy Spirit, of his miraculous descent on the day of Pentecost, and of the overwhelming sufferings of the crucifixion. The precursor of our Lord predicted Christ as coming to "baptize them with the Holy Ghost and with fire." John immersed our Saviour himself in the river Jordan; when, as he "went up straightway out of the water," he beheld the "heavens opened unto him," saw the descending Spirit of God like a dove, "lighting upon him," and heard a voice saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Viewing in awful perspective the tragical scenes of his life, which were to terminate in the more tragical sufferings of his last hour, he exclaimed, "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished!"

Happily, Lydia was not alone in her public profession of religion. She had the satisfaction of seeing her household introduced by baptism into the church of Christ. We are not informed either of their number, sex, or age. The circumstances of the case seem most naturally to point out her servants or adult children, to whom, as in the instance of the jailer, the word of the Lord might be addressed. She no doubt felt extreme solicitude for their spiritual interests, and from the moment of her own conversion would give them every opportunity of attending the apostolic instruction. To have witnessed in them the kindlings of divine love, the workings of genuine penitence, the dawnings of true religion, must have afforded her the richest pleasure, in comparison with which all the accumulations of trade and commerce dwindled into perfect insignificance.

But let us inquire whether we resemble Lydia. Do we monopolize the hopes of salvation and the cup of spiritual blessing? or are we active distributors of the heavenly bounty? What do we feel for our families, our children, our domestics, our dependants, our friends and connections? What have we done for them? They need instruction—they possess souls to be saved, or lost—they are responsible creatures—they are given us in charge by providence, and will finally meet us at the tribunal of God. Should it not awaken alarm to be accessary in any degree to their destruction by negligence, if not by compulsion or by bad example? Is it not worthy of a holy ambition to become instrumental to their eternal welfare? Do you lead them to the domestic altar? Do you watch over their conduct with a vigilant and paternal eye? Do you guide them to the house of God?—To show them the path to heaven—to be instrumental in lodging one important sentiment in their minds—to sow, if but a single grain, that may vegetate and rise into a tree of holiness, is incalculably more satisfactory and more honourable than to obtain the victories of an Alexander, or the riches of a Croesus. O, let us never remain content with a solitary religion; but aim, like Lydia, to multiply our satisfactions, and in the spirit of an exalted charity, to distribute happiness in the earth! "None of us liveth to himself, and no man (as a Christian,) dieth to himself."

A third and most visible effect of Lydia's conversion, was an affectionate regard to the servants of Christ. With the zeal of a new convert and the generosity of a genuine Christian, she invited Paul and the companions of his labours to "come into her house and abide there." She thus proved herself "a lover of hospitality, a lover of good men;" which although it be one of the appropriate characteristics of "a bishop," or spiritual overseer and pastor, enters into the very elements of a religious character in every station. We are exhorted "to do good to all men, especially to them that are of the household of faith:" and Jesus Christ has represented love to the brethren as an indication of discipleship.

The invitation of Lydia was not cold and formal. She did not merely pass the compliment of asking these holy guests to her board, but solicited it as a favour, and with an unusual degree of importunity. She entreated—she "constrained" them. Her plea was modest, but so expressed as to be irresistible. They could not deny her request when put upon this basis: "If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house."

Gratitude was undoubtedly a principal occasion of this urgency. She had received through their instrumentality the best gift of Heaven. The eyes of her understanding had been enlightened—the affections of her heart had been excited and sanctified to a noble purpose. They had proclaimed to her with surprising effect, "Jesus and the resurrection;" and, although she had been a devout proselyte of the Jewish religion, she would not, humanly speaking but for them, have become acquainted with the Christian, of which the former was only a pre-figurative shadow. They had unlocked the door of wisdom, and put her in possession of the ample treasures of truth; they had taught her the evil of sin, and shown her "the Lord our righteousness;" they had dispersed her doubts, dispelled her fears, removed her darkness, satisfied her inquiries, and conducted her to "the light of the world," new risen upon benighted nations, and whose blessed radiance was already diffused in every direction. Lydia was anxious to repay these benefits, or rather to testify her overwhelming sense of their immensity. What could she do but invite them home? They were "strangers," amongst senseless idolaters and persecuting foes, and she "took them in," conscious of having incurred an obligation which she could but imperfectly discharge. And have we cherished similar sentiments? Have we revered and ministered to the servants of our Lord? Have we supplied their necessities—cherished their persons—guarded their reputation? Have we thus "rendered honour to whom honour is due"—esteeming them very highly in love for their work's sake—and having made "partakers of their spiritual things," considered it our "duty to minister unto them in carnal things?" Respect for the truth itself ought to generate a suitable predilection for such as faithfully dispense it. We should value the "earthen vessels" for the sake of "the heavenly treasure" they contain. If in any instances the professed ministers of the Gospel act inconsistently with their character, a mind like that of Lydia, would not become dissatisfied with the truth itself, nor hastily utter extravagant censure. We have known persons take an apparent pleasure in detailing the faults of persons eminent either for character, or for official situation. They have betrayed, by their triumphant air, significant inuendoes, or needless circumstantiality, a secret and criminal gratification, whilst loudly protesting their sorrow. But a sincere piety, which sympathises with all the adversities and prosperities of the Christian cause, and knows the general and especially the personal consequences of such deplorable inconsistencies, will commiserate, and weep, and pray.

The importunity of Lydia was no less honorable to Paul and his coadjutors than to herself. It proves their delicacy and consideration. They felt unwilling to accept her hospitality, lest it should prove burdensome or troublesome. These were not men to take advantage of the impressions they produced, and to gain a subsistence by art and fraudulence. They knew how to use prosperity, and how to sustain adversity, how to "abound, and to suffer want." They were not ashamed of poverty, nor afraid of labour. Hardship, imprisonments, scourgings, and even death, had lost their terrors; and on every occasion they were solicitous of evincing a disinterestedness of spirit that might compel their bitterest enemies to attest the purity of their motives. Hence Paul could appeal to the elders of the Ephesian church, "I have coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel. Yea, you yourselves know, that these hands have ministered unto my necessities, and to them that were with me;" and to the Corinthian believers, "what is my reward then? Verily, that when I preach the gospel, I may make the gospel of Christ without charge; that I abuse not my power in the gospel." His language to the Thessalonians is still more remarkable: "We did not eat any man's bread for nought; but wrought with labour and travel night and day that we might not be chargeable to any of you."

Lydia might probably be influenced in making this request by another consideration. She expected great advantage from more familiar intercourse with her guests. In the social hour—at the friendly table—in the retirement of home—she could propose inquiries, which such a man as Paul would be happy to hear, and ready to answer. He who could thus address the saints at Rome—I long to see you, that I may impart unto you some spiritual gift, to the end ye may be established; that is, that I may be comforted together with you, by the mutual faith both of you and me—"must have proved an interesting companion to so pious and inquisitive a woman." She would receive him as a father and honour him as an apostle. Happy, thrice happy for us, when we make a proper selection of our bosom friends, and improve the hours of social intercourse to the purposes of spiritual improvement! Nothing is more advantageous than reciprocal communication; it elicits truth, corrects mistake, improves character, conduces to happiness, animates to diligence, and gives anew impulse to our moral energies. "Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another, and the Lord hearkened and heard it; and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the Lord and that thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts in that day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare them as a man spareth his own son that serveth him. Then shall ye return and discern between the righteous and the wicked; between him that serveth God and him that serveth him not."