UNIVERSAL BENEVOLENCE.

An address preached before the Young Men's Christian Association of Houston, August, 1873.

"As we have, therefore, opportunity, let us do good unto all men; especially to them who are of the household of faith."-Galatians, 6: 10. Those who "are of the household of faith," have special claims upon the benevolence of their brethren; for they have commenced a life of peculiar trials, have espoused a cause to which is often attached peculiar odium, and against which are often arrayed enemies of no common virulence. Hence they need a peculiar and unusual share of fraternal sympathy and aid. From these considerations, however, we are by no means to infer that this class of our fellow-men are to be exclusive objects of our love. We must "do good unto all men." Where'er there is a sufferer throughout the immense brotherhood of man, there must love hover on her downy pinion. Like the knight-errant in the days of chivalry, who roamed the earth to punish proud oppressors, and vindicate the trodden-down rights of the friendless, so must man sally forth with a hand to succor and a heart to feel; prompt to every call of mercy; equipped, as opportunity may present, to dispel ignorance, to soothe sorrow, to reclaim the wanderer from the path of virtue, and wipe the cold sweat from the brow of the dying. I shall attempt to advocate the claims of universal benevolence. Why must we do good unto all men?

1. Universal benevolence constitutes the true dignity of man.

Under no other garb does human nature present a more sublime aspect. He who is actuated by the expansive spirit of doing good; he who aspires to be not a mere passive recipient, but an active, a munificent distributer of blessings, feels that he is born for a high and noble destiny. Hence he learns to look down with abhorrence upon all that is base, tyrannical, and bigoted. He gradually gains the mastery over his evil passions; bursts the chains of selfishness and pride; overleaps the narrow bounds of sectarian exclusiveness; obtains an effectual antidote against the undue love of money, and throws wide the doors of his heart to the entrance of every generous and philanthropic impulse. Must not that be the most exalted species of human nobleness, which gives birth to feelings and results like these? The possession of this virtue constitutes the true dignity of man, for it leads directly and necessarily to an observance of the holy Decalogue. "Love is the fulfilling of the law." Let universal benevolence become the prevailing temper of the heart. And how can its possessor, for one moment, endure the thought of assailing a fellow-mortal's person, or breathing a whisper of calumny against his reputation, or violating his rights of property, or coveting his dear and most cherished possessions? Benevolence is man's true dignity, for it assimilates him to all the great and noble beings in the universe. It causes him to bear some resemblance to Almighty God. "God is love." His very existence. constitutes a boundless ocean of benevolence. It causes him to resemble the Lord Jesus Christ, that glorious Prince of benefactors. It elevates him to a place among the most exalted and renowned spirits that have ever trod the earth-the Washingtons, the La Fayettes, and

the Howards; men who lived, and toiled, and wept for the good of their fellow-men; the effects of whose benefactions will be coeval with Time; the measure of whose fame will be boundless as Eternity. It is the spirit of expanded benevolence which lives and breathes through all the works of nature. Every object throughout the vast material universe, seems to exist on purpose to do good, to communicate blessings to other beings, while it apparently makes no provision for itself. The glorious sun, the rolling ocean, the rivers, the silvery mountain streamlet, the many-colored rainbow, the enameled flowers, the dappled morn, the bending fruits of autumn -all, all are continually pouring forth streams of pure beneficence into the lap of man, whilst they take back no blessing in return. All nature is "beauty to the eye, or music to the ear." And will that which gives so much loveliness and grandeur to nature, impart no moral sublimity and dignity to man?

2. Universal benevolence constitutes the true happiness of man.

All those other sources to which mankind usually resort for pleasure-such as fame, wealth, exemption from pain and care-are often very difficult to be found; or if found, are most difficult to be retained; or if retained, and indulged in beyond a certain limit, recoil upon the heart surcharged with a load of remorse, satiety, and disgust. But here is one pure fountain, to which every thirsty soul may have free and unobstructed access. The crystal streams flow perennially. The channel never dries. Of its healthful waters full and frequent draughts may be imbibed, and no loathing disrelish will e'er ensue.

The pleasures of benevolence are of two kinds: positive and negative. It creates happiness; it prevents misery. And if the blessing of benevolence was merely of

the latter kind, it would constitute the most desirable of all possessions. For, let it once gain entrance into the heart, and how instantaneously will it drive out a legion of diabolical passions-envy, anger, covetousness, revenge-passions that rankle in the heart like barbed arrows, sting like scorpions, gnaw like vultures; and ever and anon bursting forth like the smoldering fires of a hidden volcano, roll their scalding lava over society. But pour the oil of pure philanthropy into the soul, and the billows cease to roll; the storm subsides into a placid calm.

Is this the only species of negative happiness which benevolence occasions? It is not. The God of heaven has so constituted man, that not more than one-half of his existence is absolutely requisite for needful toil, sleep, and animal indulgence. Consequently, as a general rule, every human being has a large surplus of time, talent, and energy, over and above what is necessary for his own use. A very important question then here arises: How shall this surplusage be employed? In what way shall it be expended? To what cause shall it be sacredly devoted? Benevolence would gladly step in and borrow it of man; and after having employed it in her sacred service, pour a glorious compensation into the owner's bosom. But man will not accept of the overture. This precious capital, instead of being made to yield a daily revenue of unalloyed pleasure, is most wickedly perverted; and by being so, generates a countless train of woes. "What shall we do to get rid of this useless portion of our existence? how shall we kill time?" is the constant aim of multitudes.

One seems to aspire to no higher honor than the life of a mere animal. He has eat and drank and slept like a stall-fed ox, until at last he can endure it no longer. And linked to his species by no strong ties of sympa

thetic feeling, absorbed and elevated by no grand object of pursuit, life becomes an intolerable burden; the world, a gloomy prison-house; and raising his suicidal hand, he plunges the dagger to his own heart, and rushes unbidden into eternity. Another has too great dread of death, thus suddenly to let go his hold on life. But still, he has unoccupied time and unemployed energies, which hang heavy on his hands; and what shall he do with them? He turns lazy monk, or musing anchorite. Behold a third. He has spent many a year of toil and care, to accumulate wealth. At last he has attained his object. And now what shall he do with the remainder of his days? How shall he enjoy his dear-bought possessions? Oh, this he will do: he will retire from business, and having bought him a beautiful villa far from the bustling throng, he will there doze out the remainder of his days in calm retirement-a second Cincinnatus or Sage of Monticello; forgetting, however, that he has no fountains of enjoyment, as they had, in his own breast. And no sooner, then, is he fairly housed in his new retreat, than he falls a prey to the most morbid melancholy; and unless he speedily retake himself to his former bustling occupation, he will die of premature old age, or sink into all the whims and frailties of a second childhood. Behold a fourth. He is determined that he will not die, like his purse-proud neighbor, of gout or ennui; but will keep on at the goodly and respectable occupation of making money. Wan and care-worn, he pursues his ceaseless round-counts his bags and cons his ledger; until at last he falls a victim to a most wretched monomania; avarice lays her cold clutches upon his stinted soul; money, money, is his god—“ give, give," like the horse-leech's daughter. And finally, death tears him from his idol, and throws his worthless body to the worms. There is still another, perhaps