agent, with
a soul heated to a glow with his theme, has stirred the sensibilities of
his hearers as the trees of the forest are rocked by the tempest, or
some other influence has violently swept the chords of the heart; yet it
is a source of too little depth and durability to give vitality to the
persevering work of beneficence, in a world cankered to its center with
corruption. Selfishness soon leads off the mind to other subjects; so
that contributions can be drawn from the natural sympathies only by the
repeated and almost continued presentation of the suffering object. But
this course will ultimately defeat its own end; tending, as it does, to
harden the heart, and thereby to seal up the very fountains intended to
be opened. Accordingly, we find that those who have no plan of
munificent effort, but give merely as their sensibilities are moved,
usually contribute less and less as they advance in age; their
susceptibilities to sympathetic emotion becoming hardened like the road
over which the crushing wheel has rolled for years. Hence, though the
product of impulsive benevolence may sometimes be bountiful, yet when we
contemplate its workings for any lengthened period, its fruits are found
neither uniform nor abundant. The soil is too thin for enduring
fertility.

We find this exemplified in our churches where no system of charity is
adopted. For want of stated times for contributions to the different
objects, they are apt to be forgotten or neglected. They whose duty it
is to make the appointments, are engaged in other cares; time whirls on;
the year passes away, and no collection is made. Or if a few objects
receive occasional attention, others are passed over for years
altogether; proving to a moral demonstration, that what is done
irregularly in the work of beneficence, is ill done. To this, the
agents of our benevolent societies passing through our churches, can
bear sorrowful testimony.--The same is true of the individual. Every
one knows that what falls not into his regular routine of duties, is apt
to slide from the memory. This is peculiarly true of benevolence, for
selfishness helps us to forget; and it the contribution come to our
recollection, we are not ready to give just then; some debt must be
first paid, some convenience purchased, or some other urgent call
attended to. Thus he, who has no system in the bestowment of his
bounties, is always finding excuses to turn off the edge of arguments