Liberality of heart will extend to the _purse_. “If a brother or sister be naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be you warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?” I am not surprised that some religionists should quarrel with the doctrine of James, and scarcely allow him to be orthodox. What a melancholy consideration it is, that the purse should prove so fatal a test, as it frequently does, to professors, otherwise of good report. They can speak fluently on spiritual topics—they can distinguish accurately between things that differ—they settle down firmly upon a sound system, and resolutely defend it—but when you touch their property, you discover their idolatry. See that young man retiring, sad and dissatisfied, from Jesus Christ;—he was moral, just, amiable, good—what qualities must he not have possessed to have excited the admiration of the Redeemer! for it is said, “Jesus, beholding him, loved him.”—Why does he turn his back upon his Lord, and refuse to follow in his train? Ah! this touchstone was applied, which his worldly spirit could not endure! He could pass through all the forms of external religion—and maintain the beautiful symmetry of moral character—but he could not part with his money. Liberality is evinced in no small degree in _manner_. There are delicate touches in the movements of a feeling heart, which cannot be described. Sorrow renders the sufferer sensitive; and harshness of deportment destroys all the value of the gift. The sigh of sympathy, even where there is nothing more to bestow, is, to him who suffers, like the alabaster-box of precious ointment which Mary broke over the head of Jesus—an odour is diffused on every side—and he is “anointed for his burial”—he is soothed into resignation, and wafted in spirit to the world of love, where poverty and tears shall be unknown. But the proud imperious spirit cannot confer a benefit—it’s very bounty inflicts an injury—and its roughness tears open a wound, which it lacks the skill to heal. Misery is insulted rather than alleviated—and the reed bruised by adversity, is broken by unkindness. Yet— —“Such is the pitiless part Some act, by the delicate mind— Regardless of wringing, or breaking, a heart Already to sorrow resigned!” The absence of feeling demonstrates the want of affection; and we repeat, where this is lacking, there cannot be liberality. “Be pitiful, be courteous”—“For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”—and we know what tenderness we exercise towards ourselves, and what sympathy we expect from others: “As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.”