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This is the never-failing well at which each cup of benefaction must be filled. It is the vital breath which wakens the warm and generous sentiment within, and gives to it substance and fashion. It is the power which creates and sustains in existence each varying species of philanthropy, - each form of good to our suffering fellow-beings. It is the celestial panoply which makes us fearless of evil, magnanimous to an enemy, and compassionate to the weak and erring. And this shall be the final restorer of a groaning, travailing creation to its first freshness and purity, filling and crowning the universe with the glory of God. “Now abideth Faith, Hope, and Charity, these three; but the greatest of these is Charity.” “Love is the seraph, and Faith and Hope are but the wings by which it flies." "Love worketh no ill to his neighbor: therefore LOVE IS THE FULFILLING OF THE LAW.”


Our Saviour presented the life of the cup-bearer in a vivid sketch, or picture. The scene exhibits a disciple, weary, faint, and thirsty, in a desert, where, like Hagar, he can find no spring. This commissioned benefactor knows where the fountain is; and straight he runs to the sparkling waters, plunges in the golden cup, and bears it, brimming, and flashing back the light of heaven,- pure, cool, and sweet to the parched lips.

In drawing this exquisite sketch, he did not intend to confine our beneficence to this one specific form of kindness. But he selected a case having two extreme features ; the insignificance of the beneficiary, and that of the favor bestowed. So that he virtually says, “I judge actions by the spirit they express. There is not a disciple of mine. so insignificant that I do not observe with interest all that affects him; there is not an expression of regard to me, however simple its form, that I do not notice with approbation.”


Love! In these great wrecks of our independence, I believe that I have seized the word which will save us. Love! I can not; often I will not. Yet, O God! if I hate, I am the most submissive of slaves. As soon as I love, every thing becomes possible to me. In vain does the loved one wound me, I do not feel it; he exacts much, I give more; he will not comprehend me, I understand him ; he doubts me, I believe in him ; he hopes nothing, I hope every thing.

This is charity: I know it well; as distant from my

depressed and resisting heart as the starry firmament from the abyss! But I do this, - on my knees, with hands uplifted, I cry to God, “Thou who lovest me, teach me to love !”

Countess de Gasparin.


The venerable Dr. Lyman Beecher once said he was going over the Alleghany Mountains, and as he passed the top, going westward, he saw some little rills of water trickling and jumping and skipping along, and he asked them where they were going.

Oh,” they said, “just down the mountain.” “And what are you going to do as you go down the mountain ?”

Oh, we shall make friends with some other little rills, and grow bigger.”

“And what will you do when you grow bigger?”

“Oh, we shall turn saw-mills and grist-mills; and when we get down through all the rocks and narrow passes on the plains, then we shall set some great iron-factories and cotton-mills in motion."

“And what will you do then?” “Then? Why, we shall make the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers ; and when we are strong enough we shall make the great Ohio."

“And what will you do when you get to be the

great Ohio ?

Oh, then we shall take on our backs great rafts and steamboats and beautiful ships, and help build up, all

, along, beautiful towns and cities."

And what then?”

“What then? Why, we shall unite our forces (for we are not selfish but generous little fellows) with the great Missouri and Mississippi, and help them to carry a thousand ships down to the great ocean.”

"What! you going to do all this, you little rills ? "

"Yes, sir, we; and if you don't believe us, we can't stop to convince you of it, for we are in a hurry; but come and see for yourself;" and on they went.

The doctor said he could not but ask, if the little rills were going to do so much, what the little boys and girls would do.

And surely no one can tell. Some will promise that they will do great things. We have known many do this, but they failed of fulfilling their promise

- all, because they did not begin right, or did not go in the right road, or did not do the right things. They sunk all their character and influence in wicked ways, and in a little time, as little rills that have no good fountains dry up and perish, so they died away and were forgotten. No good came of them; and when we inquired where they were, they were not to be found : no one could tell any good of them; they were shiftless, poor, and profligate, and the world was glad to get rid of them. But others, pure as the little rills from the mountains, move on in paths of soberness and integrity, and pour a rich tide of blessedness on all around them, - comforts to their parents, the joy of their teachers, noble reformers, ornaments of society, and the stay of their country.



Meek and lowly, pure and holy,

the blessed three,
Turning sadness into gladness,

Heaven-born art thou, Charity!
Pity dwelleth in thy bosom,

Kindness reigneth o'er thy heart ;
Gentle thoughts alone can sway thee,

Judgment hath in thee no part.

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