to submit themselves to the appointed criterion; so that, while nobles may appeal to hospitals furnished, founded, and sustained, by their ancestral revenues, and merchants show how their purses, big with the gains of commerce, were always open at the cry of the needy-think you that then the vnaous peasant, who has wrestled with the giant of poverty, and scorned, while there was sight in his eye and strength in his limb, to touch a stiver of the funds which belong to the destitute-think you he will shrink back as one able to reply only in the negative to the question, " Hast thou given bread to the hungry, or covering to the naked?"

We are quite clear, and we hold it for a truth which ought to be a comfort to the poor man as he struggles to keep his family from all dependance on charity, that the superior blessedness of the giver as compared with the receiver is within reach of those who can only earn a bare sufficiency. And therefore do we feel, that in striving to raise the character of a population, and to restore that healthy tone which exists wherever charitable aid in place of being coveted, is not received until absolute starvation is the only alternative, we make an effort which, if successful, would lift this population into a higher moral, as well as a higher physical position. If I can prevail on a man by working an additional hour, though he already work many, or by undertaking an additional task, though he has already much on his hands, just to keep himself off the parish book, or to prevent the necessity of seeking aid from the wealthy -why I do that man a vast spiritual benefit: I detain him within the class of givers when he may actually be on the point of passing over to the class of receivers, and thus 1 arrest him in his intention of throwing away that power which he possesses of ministering to the necessities of others, if not in as abundant manner, as though he ranked amongst the wealthy of the land, and could make his name figure in every list of subscribers,

Now it should not be inferred from any of our foregoing remarks, that we cast any slur on those of the poor whose necessities compel them to subsist either in whole or part on charity. We do not necessarily exclude even these from the class of givers, from those who may work so as to "give to him that needeth." One man may do extra labour in order that he may avoid asking any help; and thus he is a giver to the amount of that assistance which he must have solicited had his industry been less intense. Another, who in spite of every exertion cannot earn enough, may take pains to do with the least possible help; and thus he is a giver to the amount of that assistance, which with a less unflinching economy his wants might have demanded. He who by the toil of limb keeps himself altogether from the list of paupers contributes just so much to the relief of the poor, as without that toil of limb must have been bestowed on himself: and in like manner, he for whose wants the toil of limb cannot bring sufficiency, but who by the toil of carefulness makes shift to do with the smallest quantity of help, contributes just so much to the relief of the poor, as without this toil of carefulness must have been abstracted on his >wn account from the revenues of charity. So that we consider none as shut aut from the asserted blessedness of givers, but those who are deficient either in the labour of industry, or the labour of economy: and unhappily our lanes and our alleys swarm with both classes, who would sooner beg than work, or who never think that enough has been given so long as they think that more may

be had.

We have thus striven to shew you, and we consider the point most worthy of

VOL. I.

I

examination, that the lower ranks of society are no more excluded than the higher from the power and opportunity of being charitable; and that those who seem to you to have nothing to give may as well abide, at the last, a scrutiny into the ministering to the necessitous, as others who have large incomes at their disposal, and can take the lead in all the bustle of philanthropy. And we reckon it a beautiful truth, that from the fields and work-shops of our country may be sent to the platform of judgment the most active and the most self-denying of the benevolent; and that, however in this world the praise of liberality is awarded only to those who can draw out their purse and scatter their gold, our peasants and our artisans may be accounted hereafter the largest contributors to the relief of the afflicted, and the donations which they have wrung out with overtasked limb weigh vastly down in the balance of trial the more shewy gifts which the wealthy dispense from their superfluities, without trenching it may be on their luxuries. The man who endows an alms-house out of a well-stocked purse has a formidable rival in alms-giving in the labourer who struggles night and day to keep out of that alms-house: and when charity is estimated, as at least it shall be, by the proportion which the gift bears to the purse, we can believe, that he who reared the asylum and put over it his coat of arms, may be a hundred lower down in the scale of the charitable, than one who rather than claim the succours of that asylum wears away an old age in constant toil and on scanty allowance.

Now you may all see, that the view thus given of the power possessed by the poor of acting out to the letter the precept of our text, is fairly introductory to an appeal on behalf of a District Visiting Society. You know the grand proposed object to be, that of withstanding that march of pauperism beneath which our country already groans to the very centre. Independence has been drained out of our lower population, and that too (especially in our agricultural districts) by the misapplication and mal-administration of poor laws; and now our peasantry, who ought to be the sinews of the kingdom, lies like a dead weight on its energies, and threatens, by its ever-increasing pressure on all the property of the state, to do what is far beyond the power of foreign invadersreduce England into a wrecked and paralysed thing, crippled by her children, though she could not be crushed by her enemies. And in proportion therefore as you can lead the poor to habits of industry and forethought, and thus keep them from applying (as such habits would have kept nine-tenths of the existing paupers) from applying to the parish, you deserve to be classed with the best benefactors of your country'; there being no patriot who in these days could work such deliverance for an oppressed land, as he who should devise means for introducing amongst the lower orders a firm resolve to eat not the bread of charity till they must eat it or starve. We shall not presume to say, that our district society has been such a machinery as we could wish for giving a healthful tone to the poor population of this neighbourhood; but nevertheless we believe, that in many instances, our machinery has been made instrumental in teaching the labouring classes (and this is the great point after all) to develope their own resources, whilst in other instances by well-timed assistance they nave prevented that application to the parish which, though destitution renders it inevitable, can hardly be made, even once, without a fracture in the spirit of independence-without, that is, a moral injury to the individual, which through long-after ages may never be repaired. Of course, in numerous cases, our society has done nothing, as to temporal matters, but relieve existing distress.

If our field of operation were a district of peasants who had never been helped on by charity, we might, under God's blessing, by encouraging them and directing them to be industrious and provident, cause that none of that number ever degenerate into paupers. But when we enter on ground already tenanted by pauperism, it were something too harsh to tax our society with failure, if in a variety of instances the amount of its success be the giving aid to the suffering. We have therefore the same confidence as in former years in commending this institution to your liberal support, as one every way worthy your support by the excellence of its design and the effectiveness of its operations. The funds of our society depend much on this annual appeal, and if you respond not to it with your accustomed liberality, we must be crippled in our energies through the on-coming year.

We are persuaded that in saying this we say enough. We would only add, that the words of our text when applied to the better classes of society, give a standard of benevolence which few of us can pretend to have approached. A man is to bestow what he has procured by his labour, or he is to labour for the very purpose of gaining something which he may give. What is this but saying, that in being charitable a man must make a sacrifice? It is not said, “Give our superfluities," but "Give our toil:" "Work, that you may have to give to him that needeth." And who is there comparatively amongst the most liberal Chris tians who can be said to feel what he parts with? What labour does it cos him? The labour of working an extra hour? The labour of foregoing the gratification of a single article of luxury? Let each man answer for himself whether it is any labour to him to be charitable. He may give his guineas, but does he in any manner want those guineas? Does he deny himself any thing in order that he may have these guineas to give? We only state what appears implied in our text, when we declare that the charity required by the gospel is the charity which costs us something. Some purses are so large that a great deal may be taken out, and never be missed; but surely the giver of this great deal ought not to be canonised as a prodigy of Christian beneficence, seeing that he foregoes nothing for Christ which he has the least use of for himself. We commend this to your earnest consideration. Would to God that all of us might regard ourselves as only the stewards of our Maker, so that whether we possess money, or talent, or influence, we might have constantly before us that strict and solemn account which we must one day render of the advantages deputed to our keeping. The possession of these advantages involves an awful responsibleness, and the man of large wealth, oh how easy for him to be just paving hell with his gold: the man of mighty intellect, (and he who envies distinguished talent envies distinguished danger) it were better he had been born an idiot, than misapply his intellect; a misapplied intellect is a furnace seven times heated: and the man of influence, Let him use that influence except in the service of Christ, and its every lota gives new severity to the torments which are hereafter to be let loose upon the ungodly. May these truths be laid deeply upon your hearts. We cannot possess an advantage which may not be turned into the worst of curses. God demands the right use of wealth, and God will exact punishment for the wrong use. Apply now these considerations to the particular case of wealth, and our plates shall be a witness to your resolve, that you will "labour, working with your hands the thing which is good, that you may have to give to him that needeth."

FOLLOWING CHRIST AFAR OFF.

REV. J. SHERMAN,

CLAREMONT CHAPEL, PENTONVILLE, JUNE 9, 1881

"But Peter followed him afar off.-MATTHEW, xxvi. 58.

O STRANGE alteration within a few short hours! Is this the courageous Peter that said, "I will go with thee to prison and to death? Is this the man, who is now a coward, and afraid to be seen with his Master? Is this the man wh brandished his sword over the head of the high priest's servant, now ashamed to be known as the friend of his Master, and to be seen with him? " Lord, what is man that thou art mindful of him?"

How beautiful an illustration of the love of Jesus does this history give to us. How pathetically did our Lord inform the disciples of their defection: " All of you shall be ashamed of me this night." And though Peter, who was generally speaker for the rest, said it was quite impossible such thing could ever take place -likewise also said they all-yet the event proved the truth of our Lord's prediction. "Then"-when they arrested him-" the disciples forsook him and fied." But there is something peculiar in the statement which commends itself to us. Peter followed his Master, but he followed him afar off. He loved his Master, and therefore he followed him; but fear for his own safety prevailed above the love of his Master, and therefore he followed him afar off. But mark why on this occasion he followed him afar off. He had arrived from some considerable distance, near the court; and he went in, and sat with the servants. He should have gone into the court to speak for his Master; he wanted a friend then, and there was no one to lift up a voice for him; and there was this man who had said so much how he would befriend him, how impossible it was to leave him— there was this man going and sitting with idle, ignorant people-not to reprove them for their wickedness, but because there was a warm fire there on a cold day. And what was his motive? It was to see the end. This is expressly told us; he went in to see the end. Curiosity, not conscience, prompted him to go and seek his Master. He followed him, but he followed him as a stranger, little interested about it. He followed him, but not as an intimate friend, to whom he had professed himself attached. He followed him, therefore, afar off.

How does this draw the portrait of some that hear me to-night? Oh, beloved, rou love Christ; there is the testimony of your conscience that you love him; But you follow him afar off. The same simple sentence that describes Peter's condition would just finish your own portrait: you follow Christ, but you follow sim at a distance, and at a very great distance. Love prompts you to go forward, but the fear of shame, connected, perhaps, with worldly associations, tempts you to follow him at a great distance. Now if this be the case, bear with

me while I attempt to draw your minds into a little nearer allegiance with the Friend of sinners, a little closer communion with your precious souls, and a little more delight in his presence. For this purpose, favour me with your devout attention and prayers while we attempt to show three things. First, the symptoms of following Christ afar off. Secondly, the consequences of following Christ afar off. Thirdly, the remedy for following Christ afar off.

Let us observe THE SYMPTOMS OF Following Christ afar off.

One of the first symptoms is a gradual departure from him. Although Peter's following Christ afar off was rather sudden, it had its gradations; it had its depths; it did not take place all at once. There were many steps before he began to follow Christ at this sad distance: and the first step was self-confidence. "I will go with thee to prison and to death," said Peter. Jesus answered him-" Thou knowest not what thou sayest. Wilt thou go with me to prison and to death? I tell thee, before the cock crow twice thou shalt deny me thrice." "I deny thee!" said Peter. What, deny my Lord and Saviour! Impossible: "though I should die with thee, I will never deny thee."

The second step was an ignorant zeal for Christ, and the use of carnal weapons in his cause. When the band approached, the disciples asked, “Lord, shall we smite with the sword?" But before our Lord could give an answer, Peter's sword was lifted up, and the ear of the high priest's servant was cut off. He waited not for an answer; he waited not for directions from his Lord, but took the weapons in his own hands, and directly executed that for which he should have waited directions, that he might do it in a proper manner, at a proper season, or not at all. Our Lord, you perceive, checked this ignorant zeal: "Put up thy sword again into its place; for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." "And Jesus answered and said, Suffer ye thus far. And he touched his ear, and healed him." Suffer ye thus far-pity my servant; he did it in ignorance; I will heal the man: and he healed him.

The next step was an abandonment of the cause he had espoused. "Then all the disciples forsook him, and fled." And Peter, among the rest, forsook him; and forsook him when the Lord most needed him-forsook him when his presence might have been some service to him in the court. He should have gone there and spoken for him; but when the test of his discipleship was about to be proved, then he forsook him and fled. And, beloved, our following Christ at a distance generally commences in private, in a vain conceit of our own importance. The humble soul walks with God in humble dependence upon him; and because it feels its own weakness, cleaves the closer to him for strength. But the moment our confidence and conceit begin to arise in the mind, then we begin to follow him afar off. This has been proved in the experience of hundreds. There are some of us who say, when a brother sees something in our character which will be injurious to us, which is drawing us off from the Son of God, and tells us what shall befall us in the last days-like Hazael, we say, "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?"—it is impossible that this can happen. But let only a few temptations come, suitable to draw us away; let only a few parallel circumstances to those of Peter come in our way; and, instead of following Christ closely, we shall follow him afar off.

Another symptom of following Christ afar off is a disinclination to commune with him. How precious should these few moments have been to Peter, especially when our Lord had told him he was about to leave the world. But, instead of cleaving to him to gain all the instruction he need ad, he fallowed him afar off