such people should either not know or not remember, that all this while they are telling falsehoods. They do not seem to understand, that if we relate a circumstance in such a manner as is calculated to give an impression which, either in nature or degree, does not accord with reality, we are guilty of the sin of lying. Where character is concerned, the sin is still greater, since it adds detraction to falsehood. Many a man's reputation has been frittered away by this wicked and mischievous propensity. Every narrator of an instance of misconduct, not, perhaps, heinous in the first instance, has added something to the original fact, till the offence has stood before the public eye, so blackened by this accumulative defamation, that, for a while, he has lost his character, and only partially recovered it in the end, and with extreme difficulty. Remembering the existence of such an evil, we should be backward to take up an unfavourable opinion upon first appearance; and where we cannot believe all things, be willing to hope: such is the dictate of charity, and such the conduct of those who yield their hearts to its influ

CHAPTER XV.

THE SELF-DENIAL OF LOVE.

"Love endureth all things."

CHARITY is not fickle, unsteady, and easily discouraged; not soon disheartened, or induced to relinquish its object; but is persevering, patient, and self-denying, in the pursuance of its design to relieve the wants, assuage the sorrows, reform the vices, and allay the animosities, of those whose good it seeks. It is as patient in bearing, as it is active in doing; uniting the uncomplainable submission of the lamb, the plodding perseverance of the ox, with the courage of the lion.

It is no frivolous and volatile affection, relinquishing its object from a mere love of change; nor is it a feeble virtue, which weekly lets go its purpose in the prospect of difficulty; nor a cowardly grace, which drops its scheme, and flees from the face of danger; no, it is the union of benevolence with strength, patience, courage, and perseverance. It has feminine beauty, and gentleness, and sweetness, united with masculine energy, and power, and heroism. To do good, it will meekly bear with the infirmities of the meanest, or will brave the scorn and fury of the mightiest. But let us survey the opposition, the difficulties, the discouragements, the provocations, which it has to bear, and which, with enduring patience it can resist.

Sacrifices of ease, uftime, of feeling, and of property, must all be endured: for it is impossible to exercise Christian charity without making these. He that would do good to others, without practising self-denial, does but dream. The way of philanthropy is ever up hill, and not unfrequently over rugged rocks, and through thorny paths. If we would promote the happiness of our fellow creatures, it must be by parting with something or other that is dear to us. If we would lay aside revenge when they have injured us, and exercise forgiveness, we must often mortify our own feelings. If we would reconcile the differences of those who are at variance, we must give up our time, and sometimes our comfort. If we would assuage their griefs, we must expend our property. If we would reform their wickedness, we must part with our ease. If we would, in

short, do good of any kind, we must be willing to deny ourselves, and bear labour of body and pain of mind. And love is willing to do this; it braces itself for labour, arms itself for conflict, prepares itself for suffering: it looks difficulties in the face, counts the cost, and heroically exclaims, "None of these things move me, so that I may diminish the evils, and pro:note the happiness, of others." It will rise before the break of day, linger on the field of labour till midnight, toil amidst the sultry heat of summer, brave the northern blasts of winter, submit to derision, give the energies of body and the comfort of mind: all to do good.

Misconstruction is another thing that love endures. Some men's minds are ignorant, and cannot understand its schemes; others are contracted, and cannot comprehend them; others are selfish, and cannot approve them; others are envious, and cannot applaud them; and all these will unite, either to suspect or to condemn but this virtue, "like the eagle, pursues its noble, lofty, heaven-bound course, regardless of the flock of little pecking caviling birds, which, unable to follow, amuse themselves by twittering their objections and ill will in the hedges below." Or, to borrow a scriptural allusion, love, like its great pattern, when he

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was upon the earth, goes about doing good, notwithstanding the malignant perversion of its motives and actions on the part of its enemies. "I must do good," she exclaims: "if you cannot understand my plans, I pity your ignorance; if you misconstrue my motives, I forgive your malignity; but the clouds that are exhaled from the earth, may as well attempt to arrest the career of the sun, as for your dulness or malevolence to stop my attempts to do good. I must go on, without your approbation, and against your opposition."

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Envy often tries the patience of love, and is another of the ills which it bears, without being turned aside by it. There are men who would enjoy the praise of benevolence without enduring its labours; that is, they would wear the laurel of victory without exposing themselves to the peril of war: they are sure to envy the braver, nobler spirits, whose generous conquests, having been preceded by labour, are followed by praise. To be good, and to do good, are alike the objects of envy with many persons. "A man of great merit," said a French author, "is a kind of public enemy. By engrossing a multitude of applauses, which would serve to gratify a great many others, he cannot but be envied men naturally hate what they highly esteem, yet cannot love." The feeling of the countryman at Athens, who, upon being asked why he gave his vote for the banishment of Aristides, replied, "Because he is every where called the just," is by no means uncommon. The Ephesians expelled the best of their citi zens, with the public announcement of this reason, "If any are determined to excel their neighbours, let them find another place to do it." Envy is that which love hates and proscribes, and, in revenge, envy hates and persecutes love in return; but the terror of envy does not intimidate love, nor its malignity digust it: it can bear even the perversions, misrepresentations, and opposition of this fiend-like passion, and pursues its course, simply saying, "Get thee behind me, Satan."

Ingratitude is often the hard usage which love has to sustain, and which it patiently endures. Into such a

state of turpitude is man fallen, that he would bear any weight rather than that of obligation. Men will acknowledge small obligations, but often return malice for such as are extraordinary; and some will sooner forgive great injuries than great services. Many persons do not know their benefactors, many more will not acknowledge them, and others will not reward them, even with the cheap offering of thanks. These things are enough to make us sick of the world: yes; but ought not to make us weary of trying to mend it; for the more ungrateful it is, the more it needs our benevolence. Here is the noble, the lofty, the godlike temper of charity it pursues its course like the providence of Jehovah, which continues to cause its sun to rise and its rain to descend, not only upon the irrational creatures, who have no capacity to know their benefactor, but upon the rational ones, many of whom have no disposition to acknowledge him."

Derision is often employed to oppose the efforts of love by all the artillery of scorn. Spiritual religion, and especially that view of it which this subject exhibits, has ever been an object of contempt to ungodly men. Banter and ridicule are brought to stop its progress; the greatest profaneness and buffoonery are sometimes employed to laugh it out of countenance ;— but it has learned to treat with indifference even the cruel mockings of irony, and to receive upon its shieldarm all the arrows of the most envenomed wit.

Opposition does not disgust, nor persevering obstinacy weary it. It can endure to have its schemes examined and sifted by those who cannot understand them, cavilled at by those who cannot mend them, and resisted by those who have nothing to offer in their place. It does not throw all up in a fit of passion, nor suffer the tongue of petulance, nor the clamour of envy, to stop its efforts.

Want of success, that most discouraging consideration to activity, is not sufficient to drive it from the field; but in the expectation of the future harvest, it continues to plough and to sow in hope. Its object is too im