Such is man in the eye of God; what, then ought he to be in the eye of man? Wilt thou pretend to despise him whom God esteems so highly? and wilt thou judge harshly of the brother, for whom Christ has died? If superior beings were to regard the vices of man with detestation merely, unmixed with pity; if God were to leave him to his own devices, and to that destruction which he so often seems to court, what answer could be made, and who should dare to arraign the justice of the Most High? But thou, O man, who art. thyself spotted with iniquity, wilt thou pretend to look with cold and contemptuous severity on the failings of thy brother? When God himself has consented to sink his indignation against sin in his pity for the offender; when the good angels look down upon their earthly brethren with kind wishes for their success, and with sorrow for their failings, wilt thou, who thyself requirest all this mercy and pity, fix upon any one of the human race a severe or contemptuous eye? I know what thou wilt say, that thou art not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican: thou fastest twice in the week; thou givest tythes of all that thou possessest: yet the publican, who standeth afar off, and will not lift up so much as his eyes to heaven, but smiteth on his breast, saying, God be merciful to me, a sinner; this man will go down to his house justified rather than thou.

Indeed, my brethren, the circumstance, which is one of the fundamental tenets of Christianity, that every man is a sinner, this circumstance affords an unanswerable argument for mutual charity and forbearance, and ought to dispose every one to judge as fa

vourably of his neighbour as he possibly can. If I have been guilty of innumerable vices; have every day done those things which I ought not to have done, and left undone those things which I ought to have done; is it at all to be tolerated, that, instead of being. afflicted for my own transgressions, I should pore upon those of my surrounding brethren? Am I, who have myself a corrupted nature, whose judgment is vitiated by disorderly passions, who have a kind of unnatural satisfaction in discovering the vices of others, that I may appear more perfect in my own eyes; am I, in any respect, a competent judge of the real merits of any one of mankind? Some subordinate judgments, indeed, we must form, sufficient to guide us in our conduct among men; we must learn whom to consort with, and whom to avoid; the nature of society requires that we should be separated into nations, and parties, and sects; and the purest principles of Christianity will always be found to accommodate themselves to the state of the world in which we live. But, in all our judgments and decisions upon men, we must never proceed beyond what is plain and apparent; we must not too finely trace the outward qualities to their radical recesses in the heart, nor pretend to say any thing of the soul, that sacred and immortal thing, which spurns at the judgments of men, while it trembles before those of God.

On this subject, my brethren, it is scarcely possible to avoid touching on a point which has occasioned more want of charity than perhaps any other in the world: I mean religious dissentions. And yet it is strange, that religious men should split upon this rock, when they

are expressly told, that "charity is the end of the commandment." This malignant spirit is supported by a sort of reasoning, which, at first sight, seems abundantly conclusive, but which, if it were just, would be exactly the strongest thing that could be urged against religion, since nothing can bring religion into so much discredit, with men of good sense and hearts, as the dark and gloomy spirit which sometimes seems to inspire its adherents. The sort of reasoning alluded to is this:-there are certain doctrines urged in scripture as necessary points of faith; some men retain these, and others lose sight of them; and the believers, accordingly, think themselves entitled to reprobate those who err from the true creed. But this fearless kind of reasoning rests entirely on the idea, that a point of faith is of any consequence whatever, while it continues an empty speculation in the head, without producing a due effect on the heart and dispositions; an idea the most wild and extravagant. As if the Author of our religion had any desire to make us very skilful and knowing, in respect to the world of spirits, and did not merely inform us of those things, the knowledge of which might render us better men. Whatever points of faith, then, we may have attained, let us never presume to think ourselves above those to whom these things may yet be hidden, unless we are conscious of some real improvement in our lives, corresponding to the faith which we have attained. On the contrary, let us rather confess, with humiliation, how little influence our faith has upon our lives; and, instead of being ready to condemn those who differ in belief from ourselves, let us rather fear,

that, at the great day of reckoning, we may be found to have believed more, and yet to have performed less.

The only objection which, as I conceive, can be urged with any plausibility against all this doctrine is, that it tends to throw too great laxity into our moral judgments, that it detracts from the dignity of virtue, and may loosen the foundations of faith. For it may be said, that if we acquire a habit of being gentle to the vices of others, we shall certainly be more ready to pass but a slight censure on our own; and if we do not pursue improper opinions with an indignant zeal, we shall be too apt to lose our ardour in the cause of religion.

Now, it must certainly be granted, that a man may very possibly fall into an indolent unconcern about all principle whatever; and that, in this state of mind, he may conceive himself to be very charitably disposed towards all the errors in human conduct or opinion, when he is only very indifferent about what men either think or do. But this defect in moral principle is not charity; for that eminent quality will always be found to exist in the highest perfection in the minds of those whose virtue is the most pure. Such men do not shut their eyes on the vices of others, or look on those vices with indifference and unconcern. They condemn the crime, but they spare the criminal, and are very far from supposing the worst motives, when better may be suggested. It is, indeed, the steady pursuit of virtue in their own conduct, which prevents them from searching too busily into the secrets of other men's hearts : having a great enterprize to perform themselves, they have no time to spare for those nice investigations. One observation is undeniable, that he who was the great pattern of human virtue, and who perfectly understood all the polluted sources of human conduct, was yet more remarkable for the most indulgent charity than perhaps for any one quality whatever; and if, in the whole course of his conversation among men, he was ever induced to utter so much as a harsh expression, it was on those occasions only, when he was shocked with perceiving a want of charity in others.

Having stated, in this general way, the reasonableness and excellence of universal charity, and the small ground which any man has to pass a severe judgment on his neighbour in any one point whatever, I proceed to enforce the practice of this virtue. And, first, it may be enforced from the comfort and satisfaction which it will naturally give to the minds of those who cultivate it. What can be a more desirable turn of mind than to think the best we can of every one with whom we have any connection; to have a satisfaction in discovering his virtues; and to hope that his vices are not radical and incurable? Such a disposition, while it is quite free from the imputation of weakness and want of discernment, is sufficient to keep us always alert and cheerful, free from morose and harsh opinions, on a good footing with the world and with ourselves. If we are disposed to look for it, much virtue we shall undoubtedly find; and, in general, the vices of men will appear to be so intermingled with good qualities, that we shall always find something pleasing to relieve our minds amid the shades of the darkest picture. On the contrary, nothing can afford more discomfort to the mind than the uncharitable passions, such as suspicion, fear, and religious bigotry.