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How
the wise and pious use of an estate naturally carrieth
us to great perfection in all the virtues of the
Christian life; represented in the character of Miranda.
ANY one
pious regularity of any one part of our life, is of great
advantage, not only on its own account, but as it uses us
to live by rule, and think of the government of ourselves.
A man of
business, that has brought one part of his affairs under
certain rules, is in a fair way to take the same care of
the rest.
So he
that has brought any one part of his life under the rules
of religion, may thence be taught to extend the same order
and regularity into other parts of his life.
If any
one is so wise as to think his time too precious to be
disposed of by chance, and left to be devoured by anything
that happens in his way; if he lays himself under a
necessity of observing how every day goes through his
hands, and obliges himself to a certain order of time in
his business, his retirements, and devotions; it is hardly
to be imagined how soon such a conduct would reform,
improve, and perfect the whole course of his life.
He that
once thus knows the value, and reaps the advantage of a
well-ordered time, will not long be a stranger to the
value of anything else that is of any real concern to him.
A rule
that relates even to the smallest part of our life, is of
great benefit to us, merely as it is a rule.
For, as
the Proverb saith, "He that has begun well, has half
done": so he that has begun to live by rule, has gone
a great way towards the perfection of his life.
By rule,
must here be constantly understood, a religious rule
observed upon a principle of duty to God.
For if a
man should oblige himself to be moderate in his meals,
only in regard to his stomach; or abstain from drinking,
only to avoid the headache; or be moderate in his sleep,
through fear of a lethargy; he might be exact in these
rules, without being at all the better man for them.
But when
he is moderate and regular in any of these things, out of
a sense of Christian sobriety and self-denial, that he may
offer unto God a more reasonable and holy life, then it
is, that the smallest rule of this kind is naturally the
beginning of great piety.
For the
smallest rule in these matters is of great benefit, as it
teaches us some part of the government of ourselves, as it
keeps up a tenderness of mind, as it presents God often to
our thoughts, and brings a sense of religion into the
ordinary actions of our common life.
If a man,
whenever he was in company, where any one swore, talked
lewdly, or spoke evil of his neighbour, should make it a
rule to himself, either gently to reprove him, or, if that
was not proper, then to leave the company as decently as
he could, he would find that this little rule, like a
little leaven hid in a great quantity of meal, would
spread and extend itself through the whole form of his
life.
If
another should oblige himself to abstain on the Lord's day
from any innocent and lawful things, as travelling,
visiting, common conversation, and discoursing upon
worldly matters, as trade, news, and the like; if he
should devote the day, besides the public worship, to
greater retirement, reading, devotion, instruction, and
works of charity; though it may seem but a small thing or
a needless nicety, to require a man to abstain from such
things as may be done without sin, yet whoever would try
the benefit of so little a rule, would perhaps thereby
find such a change made in his spirit, and such a taste of
piety raised in his mind, as he was an entire stranger to
before.
It would
be easy to show, in many other instances, how little and
small matters are the first steps and natural beginnings
of great perfection.
But the
two things which, of all others, most want to be under a
strict rule, and which are the greatest blessings both to
ourselves and others, when they are rightly used, are our
time and our money. These talents are continual means and
opportunities of doing good.
He that
is piously strict, and exact in the wise management of
either of these, cannot be long ignorant of the right use
of the other. And he that is happy in the religious care
and disposal of them both, is already ascended several
steps upon the ladder of Christian perfection.
Miranda
(the sister of Flavia) is a sober, reasonable Christian:
as soon as she was mistress of her time and fortune, it
was her first thought how she might best fulfil everything
that God required of her in the use of them, and how she
might make the best and happiest use of this short life.
She depends upon the truth of what our blessed Lord hath
said, that there is but "One thing needful,"
[Luke xi. 42] and therefore makes her whole life but one
continual labour after it. She has but one reason for
doing or not doing, for liking or not liking anything, and
that is, the will of God. She is not so weak as to pretend
to add what is called the fine lady to the true Christian;
Miranda thinks too well to be taken with the sound of such
silly words; she has renounced the world to follow Christ
in the exercise of humility, charity, devotion,
abstinence, and heavenly affections; and that is Miranda's
fine breeding.
While she
was under her mother, she was forced to be genteel, to
live in ceremony, to sit up late at nights, to be in the
folly of every fashion, and always visiting on Sundays; to
go patched, and loaded with a burden of finery, to the
Holy Sacrament; to be in every polite conversation; to
hear profaneness at the playhouse, and wanton songs and
love intrigues at the opera; to dance at public places,
that fops and rakes might admire the fineness of her
shape, and the beauty of her motions. The remembrance of
this way of life makes her exceeding careful to atone for
it by a contrary behaviour.
Miranda
does not divide her duty between God, her neighbour, and
herself; but she considers all as due to God, and so does
everything in His Name, and for His Sake. This makes her
consider her fortune as the gift of God, that is to be
used, as everything is that belongs to God, for the wise
and reasonable ends of a Christian and holy life. Her
fortune therefore is divided betwixt herself and several
other poor people, and she has only her part of relief
from it. She thinks it the same folly to indulge herself
in needless, vain expenses, as to give to other people to
spend in the same way. Therefore as she will not give a
poor man money to go see a puppet-show, neither will she
allow herself any to spend in the same manner; thinking it
very proper to be as wise herself as she expects poor men
should be. For it is a folly and a crime in a poor man,
says Miranda, to waste what is given him in foolish
trifles, whilst he wants meat, drink, and clothes. And is
it less folly, or a less crime in me, to spend that money
in silly diversions, which might be so much better spent
in imitation of the Divine goodness, in works of kindness
and charity towards my fellow-creatures and
fellow-Christians? If a poor man's own necessities are a
reason why he should not waste any of his money idly,
surely the necessities of the poor, the excellency of
charity, which is received as done to Christ Himself, is a
much greater reason why no one should ever waste any of
his money. For if he does so, he does not only do like the
poor man, only waste that which he wants himself, but he
wastes that which is wanted for the most noble use, and
which Christ Himself is ready to receive at his hands. And
if we are angry at a poor man, and look upon him as a
wretch, when he throws away that which should buy his own
bread; how must we appear in the sight of God, if we make
a wanton idle use of that which should buy bread and
clothes for the hungry and naked brethren, who are as near
and dear to God as we are, and fellow-heirs of the same
state of future glory? This is the spirit of Miranda, and
thus she uses the gifts of God; she is only one of a
certain number of poor people, that are relieved out of
her fortune, and she only differs from them in the
blessedness of giving.
Excepting
her victuals, she never spent near ten pounds a year upon
herself. If you were to see her, you would wonder what
poor body it was, that was so surprisingly neat and clean.
She has but one rule that she observes in her dress, to be
always clean and in the cheapest things. Everything about
her resembles the purity of her soul, and she is always
clean without, because she is always pure within.
Every
morning sees her early at her prayers; she rejoices in the
beginning of every day, because it begins all her pious
rules of holy living, and brings the fresh pleasure of
repeating them. She seems to be as a guardian angel to
those that dwell about her, with her watchings and
prayers, blessing the place where she dwells, and making
intercession with God for those that are asleep.
Her
devotions have had some intervals, and God has heard
several of her private prayers, before the light is
suffered to enter into her sister's room. Miranda does not
know what it is to have a dull half-day; the returns of
her hours of prayer, and her religious exercises, come too
often to let any considerable part of it lie heavy upon
her hands.
When you
see her at work, you see the same wisdom that governs all
her other actions; she is either doing something that is
necessary for herself, or necessary for others, who want
to be assisted. There is scarce a poor family in the
neighbourhood, but wears something or other that has had
the labour of her hands. Her wise and pious mind neither
wants the amusement, nor can bear with the folly, of idle
and impertinent work. She can admit of no such folly as
this in the day because she has to answer for all her
actions at night. When there is no wisdom to be observed
in the employment of her hands, when there is no useful or
charitable work to be done, Miranda will work no more. At
her table she lives strictly by this rule of holy
Scripture, "Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever
ye do, do all to the glory of God." [1 Cor. x. 31]
This makes her begin and end every meal, as she begins and
ends every day, with acts of devotion: she eats and drinks
only for the sake of living, and with so regular an
abstinence, that every meal is an exercise of self-denial,
and she humbles her body every time that she is forced to
feed it. If Miranda was to run a race for her life, she
would submit to a diet that was proper for it. But as the
race which is set before her is a race of holiness,
purity, and heavenly affection, which she is to finish in
a corrupt, disordered body of earthly passions, so her
everyday diet has only this one end, to make her body
fitter for this spiritual race. She does not weigh her
meat in a pair of scales, but she weighs it in a much
better balance; so much as gives a proper strength to her
body, and renders it able and willing to obey the soul, to
join in psalms and prayers, and lift up eyes and hands
towards heaven with greater readiness: so much is
Miranda's meal. So that Miranda will never have her eyes
swell with fatness, or pant under a heavy load of flesh,
until she has changed her religion.
The holy
Scriptures, especially of the New Testament, are her daily
study; these she reads with a watchful attention,
constantly casting an eye upon herself, and trying herself
by every doctrine that is there. When she has the New
Testament in her hand, she supposes herself at the feet of
our Saviour and His Apostles, and makes everything that
she learns of them so many laws of her life. She receives
their sacred words with as much attention and reverence as
if she saw their persons, and knew that they were just
come from Heaven, on purpose to teach her the way that
leads to it.
She
thinks that the trying of herself every day by the
doctrines of Scripture, is the only possible way to be
ready for her trial at the last day. She is sometimes
afraid that she lays out too much money in books, because
she cannot forbear buying all practical books of any note,
especially such as enter into the heart of religion, and
describe the inward holiness of the Christian life. But of
all human writings, the lives of pious persons and eminent
saints are her greatest delight. In these she searches as
for hidden treasure, hoping to find some secret of holy
living, some uncommon degree of piety, which she may make
her own. By this means Miranda has her head and her heart
so stored with all the principles of wisdom and holiness,
she is so full of the one main business of life, that she
finds it difficult to converse upon any other subject; and
if you are in her company, when she thinks it proper to
talk, you must be made wiser and better, whether you will
or no.
To relate
her charity, would be to relate the history of every day
for twenty years; for so long has all her fortune been
spent that way. She has set up near twenty poor tradesmen
that had failed in their business, and saved as many from
failing. She has educated several poor children, that were
picked up in the streets, and put them in a way of an
honest employment. As soon as any labourer is confined at
home with sickness, she sends him, till he recovers, twice
the value of his wages, that he may have one part to give
to his family as usual, and the other to provide things
convenient for his sickness.
In a
family seems too large to be supported by the labour of
those that can work in it, she pays their rent, and gives
them something yearly towards their clothing. By this
means, there are several poor families that live in a
comfortable manner, and are from year to year blessing her
in their prayers.
If there
is any poor man or woman that is more than ordinarily
wicked and reprobate, Miranda has her eye upon them; she
watches their time of need and adversity; and if she can
discover that they are in any great straits, or
affliction, she gives them speedy relief. She has this
care for this sort of people, because she once saved a
very profligate person from being carried to prison, who
immediately became a true penitent.
There is
nothing in the character of Miranda more to be admired
than this temper. For this tenderness of affection towards
the most abandoned sinners is the highest instance of a
Divine and God-like soul.
Miranda
once passed by a house, where the man and his wife were
cursing and swearing at one another in a most dreadful
manner, and three children crying about them: this sight
so much affected her compassionate mind, that she went the
next day, and bought the three children, that they might
not be ruined by living with such wicked parents; they now
live with Miranda, are blessed with her care and prayers,
and all the good works which she can do for them. They
hear her talk, they see her live, they join with her in
psalms and prayers. The eldest of them has already
converted his parents from their wicked life, and shows a
turn of mind so remarkably pious, that Miranda intends him
for holy orders; that, being thus saved himself, he may be
zealous in the salvation of souls, and do to other
miserable objects as she has done to him.
Miranda
is a constant relief to poor people in their misfortunes
and accidents: there are sometimes little misfortunes that
happen to them, which of themselves they could never be
able to overcome. The death of a cow or a horse, or some
little robbery, would keep them in distress all their
lives. She does not suffer them to grieve under such
accidents as these. She immediately gives them the full
value of their loss, and makes use of it as a means of
raising their minds towards God.
She has a
great tenderness for old people that are grown past their
labour. The parish allowance to such people is very seldom
a comfortable maintenance: for this reason they are the
constant objects of her care: she adds so much to their
allowance, as somewhat exceeds the wages they got when
they were young. This she does to comfort the infirmities
of their age, that, being free from trouble and distress,
they may serve God in peace and tranquillity of mind. She
has generally a large number of this kind, who, by her
charities and exhortations to holiness, spend their last
days in great piety and devotion.
Miranda
never wants compassion, even to common beggars; especially
towards those that are old or sick, or full of sores, that
want eyes or limbs. She hears their complaints with
tenderness, gives them some proof of her kindness, and
never rejects them with hard or reproachful language, for
fear of adding affliction to her fellow-creatures.
If a poor
old traveller tells her that he has neither strength, nor
food, nor money left, she never bids him go to the place
from whence he came, or tells him that she cannot relieve
him, because he may be a cheat, or she does not know him;
but she relieves him for that reason, because he is a
stranger and unknown to her. For it is the most noble part
of charity to be kind and tender to those whom we never
saw before, and perhaps never may see again in this life.
"I was a stranger, and ye took me in," [Matt.
xxv. 43] saith our blessed Saviour: but who can perform
this duty, that will not relieve persons that are unknown
to him?
Miranda
considers that Lazarus was a common beggar, that he was
the care of Angels, and carried into Abraham's bosom. She
considers that our blessed Saviour and His Apostles were
kind to beggars; that they spoke comfortably to them,
healed their diseases, and restored eyes and limbs to the
lame and blind; that Peter said to the beggar that wanted
an alms from him, "Silver and gold have I none, but
such as I have give I thee: in the name of Jesus Christ of
Nazareth, rise up and walk." [Acts iii. 6] Miranda,
therefore, never treats beggars with disregard and
aversion; but she imitates the kindness of our Saviour and
His Apostles towards them; and though she cannot, like
them, work miracles for their relief, yet she relieves
them with that power that she hath; and may say, with the
Apostle, "Such as I have give I thee, in the name of
Jesus Christ."
It may
be, says Miranda, that I may often give to those that do
not deserve it, or that will make an ill use of my alms.
But what then? Is not this the very method of Divine
goodness? Does not God make "His sun to rise on the
evil and on the good"? [Matt. v. 45] Is not this the
very goodness that is recommended to us in Scripture,
that, by imitating of it, we may be children of our Father
which is in Heaven, who "sendeth rain on the just and
on the unjust"? And shall I withhold a little money,
or food, from my fellow-creature, for fear he should not
be good enough to receive it of me? Do I beg of God to
deal with me, not according to my merit, but according to
His own great goodness; and shall I be so absurd as to
withhold my charity from a poor brother, because he may
perhaps not deserve it? Shall I use a measure towards him,
which I pray God never to use towards me?
Besides,
where has the Scripture made merit the rule or measure of
charity? On the contrary, the Scripture saith, "If
thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him
drink." [Rom. xii. 20]
Now this
plainly teaches us, that the merit of persons is to be no
rule of our charity; but that we are to do acts of
kindness to those that least of all deserve it. For if I
am to love and do good to my worst enemies: if I am to be
charitable to them, notwithstanding all their spite and
malice; surely merit is no measure of charity. If I am not
to withhold my charity from such bad people, and who are
at the same time my enemies, surely I am not to deny alms
to poor beggars, whom I neither know to be bad people, nor
any way my enemies.
You will
perhaps say, that by this means I encourage people to be
beggars. But the same thoughtless objection may be made
against all kinds of charities, for they may encourage
people to depend upon them. The same may be said against
forgiving our enemies, for it may encourage people to do
us hurt. The same may be said even against the goodness of
God, that by pouring His blessings on the evil and on the
good, on the just and on the unjust, evil and unjust men
are encouraged in their wicked ways. The same may be said
against clothing the naked, or giving medicines to the
sick; for that may encourage people to neglect themselves,
and be careless of their health. But when the love of God
dwelleth in you, when it has enlarged your heart, and
filled you with bowels of mercy and compassion, you will
make no more such objections as these.
When you
are at any time turning away the poor, the old, the sick,
and helpless traveller, the lame, or the blind, ask
yourself this question, Do I sincerely wish these poor
creatures may be as happy as Lazarus, that was carried by
Angels into Abraham's bosom? Do I sincerely desire that
God would make them fellow-heirs with me in eternal glory?
Now if you search into your soul, you will find that there
is none of these motions there; that you are wishing
nothing of this. For it is impossible for any one heartily
to wish a poor creature so great a happiness, and yet not
have a heart to give him a small alms. For this reason,
says Miranda, as far as I can, I give to all, because I
pray to God to forgive all; and I cannot refuse an alms to
those whom I pray God to bless, whom I wish to be
partakers of eternal glory, but am glad to show some
degree of love to such as, I hope, will be the objects of
the infinite love of God. And if, as our Saviour has
assured us, it be more blessed to give than to receive, we
ought to look upon those that ask our alms, as so many
friends and benefactors, that come to do us a greater good
than they can receive, that come to exalt our virtue, to
be witnesses of our charity, to be monuments of our love,
to be our advocates with God, to be to us in Christ's
stead, to appear for us in the day of judgment, and to
help us to a blessedness greater than our alms can bestow
on them.
This is
the spirit, and this is the life, of the devout Miranda;
and if she lives ten years longer, she will have spent
sixty hundred pounds in charity; for that which she allows
herself, may fairly be reckoned amongst her alms.
When she
dies, she must shine amongst Apostles, and saints, and
martyrs; she must stand amongst the first servants of God,
and be glorious amongst those that have fought the good
fight, and finished their course with joy.
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