hardly be given, than in the appropriation of the name, Miser, a wretch, to the avaricious man.

The proofs, which I shall give, at the present time, of the Folly of Avarice, are the following.

1. The pursuits of the Avaricious Man are attended by many unnecessary anxieties, labours, and distresses.

The mind of an avaricious man is always the seat of eager desire. So peculiarly is this the fact, that the words Covetous and Covetousness, although originally signifying any inordinate desire, denote in common usage, when unqualified by other phraseology, the inordinate desire of wealth; and are equivalent to the words Avaricious and Avarice. This fact, more strongly than any reasoning could, proves, that the love of riches is, usually, in an eminent degree, inordinate. But, whenever our desires sustain this character, the mind becomes proportionally anxious. Our attainment of the coveted object is, in most cases, necessarily uncertain. Between the fear of losing, and the hope of acquiring, it, the mind is necessarily suspended. As these desires are continually exerted, the suspense becomes, of course, continual also. A state of suspense is always a state of anxiety. Here, the anxiety is regularly great, and distressing; because the desires are incessant, eager, and sufficiently strong to control all the powers of the mind.

But this anxiety is unnecessarily suffered. All the prudence and industry, which can be lawfully exerted for the acquisition of wealth, may be employed, and all the property, which can be lawfully acquired, may be gained, without the exercise of a single avaricious feeling, and without the sufferance of a single avaricious anxiety. The contented man often becomes rich, to every desirable degree, amid the full possession of serenity, peace, and self-approbation.

Nor are the Labours of the avaricious man of a less unfortunate nature. His mind is continually strained with effort. The strength of his desires, goads him into an unceasing course of contrivances to gratify them. His thirst for property drives him to an incessant formation of plans, by which he hopes to acquire it. The fear of lessening what he has acquired, hurries him into an endless, and wearisome train of exertions, to secure himself from losses. Thus, a course of mental toil is voluntarily assumed by him, resembling, not the independent labours of a freeman, but the drudgery of a slave. The mind of an old miser is thus in a continual state of travail; and struggles through life under the pressure an iron bondage.

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A mind, hurried by eager schemes of effort, is always a tyrant to the body. Accordingly, the bodily labours of the miser commence before the dawn; worry him through the day; and scarcely permit him to lie down at night. A mere dray-horse, he is destined to a course of incessant toil. The only changes of life to him

are from dragging loads, to bearing burdens; and like those of the dray-horse, they are all borne, and dragged, for the use of

others.

To the pains, springing hourly from this unintermitted toil, are added the daily reproaches of conscience; the sufferings of disease, and accident, to which such a life is peculiarly exposed; the contempt of those around him; the denial of their pity to his sufferings; and their universal joy in his mortification.

2. The wishes of the avaricious man are followed by innumerable Disappointments.

The property, which he covets, he often fails to acquire. His plans, although formed with his utmost sagacity, and with extreme care, are not unfrequently frustrated. His debtors become bankrupt. His hard bargains are avoided. His deeds, or other obligations, are defective. His agents are often unskilful; often unfaithful; and, while they are employed merely because they will serve him at a cheap rate, frequently make their service distressingly expensive. Storms, also, will blow, in spite of his wishes. Shelves will spread; and rocks will stand in the way of his ships, as well as in the way of others. The gain, which he looks for, will, often, only appear to excite his most anxious desires, and mock him with the most painful disappointment.

Scarcely less is he wounded, when the gain in view is partially acquired. The advantage of a bargain, the amount of a crop, or the profits of a voyage, are less than his expectations have promised. As his calculations are all set high, and made by the hand of ardent desire; they, of course, overrun his success. But moderate success frustrates immoderate desire little less than absolute disappointment.

Should we even suppose his success to equal his expectations; he will be still disappointed. He covets wealth, for the good, which he supposes it will confer. This good, is not the supply of his wants, the communication of conveniences, or the ministration of luxuries. Luxuries and conveniences, he has not a wish to enjoy; and his wants might be supplied by a tenth, a twentieth, or even a hundredth, part of what he possesses. Personal importance, influence, and distinction, constitute, eminently, the good, which the miser expects from his gains. But this object he often fails to accomplish; and, in the measure which he expects, always. Some of those around him will, in spite of both his wishes, and labours, be richer than himself. Others will possess superior understanding: and others superior excellence. Some, or all, of these will acquire more reputation, weight, or influence, than himself. Thus he is compelled to see men, who are his rivals, whom he hates, or whom he either dreads as being more, or despises as being less, rich than himself, raised above him in the public estimation: while his own mind is left to the ranklings

At the same

of envy, and the miseries of disappointment. time, he is frequently stung by the severities of well-founded censure, lashed by the hand of scorn, and set up as a mark for the shafts of derision. He is also without friends; without commiseration; without esteem. He, who would gain esteem, must deserve it. He, who would have friends, must show himself friendly. He, who would find commiseration, must commiserate others.

3. The Good, which the avaricious man actually gains, is Un

certain.

Wealth is the only good, which he seeks. If this, then, is lost; he loses his all. Nothing can be more unwise, than to center all our views, wishes, and labours, in uncertain good. But the good of the miser is eminently uncertain. No truth is more attested by the experience of man, than that riches make to themselves wings as an eagle, and fly away towards heaven. The dangers, to which wealth is exposed, are innumerable. The schemes of its possessor, in spite of all human sagacity, will at times prove abortive. Flaws will, at times, be found in the written securities, with which he attempts to guard his gains. The formation of them will often be committed to unskilful, because they are cheap, hands. Incompetent, and unfaithful, persons will, at times, be trusted, because they offer peculiarly advantageous terms. Houses, notes, bonds, and deeds will, at times, be consumed by fire. Crops will fail. Cattle will die. Ships will be captured, or providentially lost. The owner and his family will be sick. Debtors will abscond, or become bankrupt; and swindlers will run away with loans, which, in spite of avaricious prudence, they have ob tained. In every case of such a nature, the miser's regrets are throes; his disappointments are agonies. The instinctive language of his heart is, Ye have taken away my gods; and what have I more?

But Avarice often amasses wealth for its heirs. Solomon hated all the labour, which he had undergone, to acquire riches, because he should leave them to the man who should come after him ; and knew not whether he would be a wise man, or a fool. This uncertainty attends every man, who amasses wealth. His destined heir, or heirs, may be wise, and prudent; inclined to such expenses only, as are useful; and prepared to preserve their inheritance, undiminished, for those who shall come after them. But they may die before they receive their patrimony; and leave it to the possession of prodigals; to men, who will expend it for purposes, which the original owner most abhorred; and in a manner so rapid and wanton, as would, if he were living, scarcely leave him the possession of his reason. The intention of all men, who lay up property for their children, is unquestionably to do them good. How often is this intention defeated! The property accumulated is designed to make them rich. How of

ten is it the very means of making them poor! It is bequeathed, to make them happy. How often is it the cause of their ruin! How often is a splendid inheritance the source of idleness, profusion, negligence, gambling, rash adventure, and speedy beg gary! To harass one's self through life, merely to promote these miserable ends, is certainly, if any thing is, vanity and vexation of spirit.

4. The avaricious man incapacitates himself to enjoy the very good which he seeks.

In order to enjoy any kind of good, it is indispensable, that we should experience some degree of contentment; at least, during the period of enjoyment. But he, that loveth silver, will never be satisfied with silver; nor he, that loveth abundance, with increase. The desire of gain enlarges faster, than the most suc cessful and romantic acquisitions; and, were pounds to be accumulated as rapidly, as the most favoured children of fortune multiply pence; the eager mind would still overleap the limits of its possessions, and demand new additions to its wealth with accelerated avidity. As these desires increase; the fear, the reluctance, to enjoy what is accumulated, are proportionally increased. The miser, instead of furnishing himself with more gratifications, and enjoying them more highly, as his means of indulgence are increased, lessens them in number and degree; and tastes them with a more stinted, parsimonious relish. His habitation, his dress, his food, his equipage, all become more decayed, mean, and miserable, continually; because he feels less and less able to afford, first conveniences, then comforts, and then necessaries. Although he wanteth nothing for his soul of all that he desireth; yet God giveth him not power to eat thereof. A rich miser, who lives like a beggar, is only a beggar, dreaming that he is rich.

II. The Guilt of Avarice may be illustrated in the following

manner.

1. The disposition is in itself grossly sinful.

This truth the Scriptures have exhibited with peculiar force. Covetousness, saith St. Paul, is Idolatry. Every person who has read his Bible, knows that idolatry is marked in the Scriptures as pre-eminent sin; as peculiarly the abominable thing, which God says, My soul hates. Its enormity I have illustrated in a former discourse. It will, therefore, be unnecessary to expatiate upon it here. I shall only observe, as we are taught by St. Paul, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ, and of God.

Common sense has long since pronounced the avaricious man to be an idolater, in the adage, proverbially used to describe his character; that he "makes gold his god." "Plainly, he prefers wealth to every other object; and consecrates his heart, his tal

ents, and his time, to the single purpose of becoming rich. To this object he evidently postpones the real God; and neither renders to him, nor, while avarice predominates, can render, his affections, or his services. With such love of the world, the love of the Father cannot be united. But how sordid, how shameful, how sinful, is it thus to worship and serve a contemptible creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever! Amen.

By this disposition he, in whom it dwells, is unfitted for all his duty to God. Our duty to God is performed, if performed at all, from that supreme love to him, which is enjoined in the first, and greatest, command of the Moral Law. But the heart of the avaricious man cannot thus love God, because he renders this love to the world. He cannot worship God, because he worships gold. He cannot serve God, because he serves Mammon. Thus, his heart is alienated from his Maker; and his life employed in a continual and gross impiety.

2. Avarice speedily destroys the tenderness, both of the Heart, and of the Conscience.

To be without natural affection is, in the estimation of the Scriptures, as well as that of common sense, to be eminently and hopelessly sinful. But nothing sooner hardens the native feelings of the heart, than the love of riches. Open to them, the soul is sealed up to every thing else; and loves nothing in comparison with them. Soon, and easily, it becomes callous to all the objects of tenderness, and endearment; forgets the neighbour, the poor, and the distressed; and neglects even its nearest friends, and relations. To such a heart, poverty petitions, distress pleads,. and nature cries in vain. Its ears are deaf; its eyes blind; and its hands closed. In vain the unhappy petitioner approaches with the hope of finding relief. Instead of meeting with the tear of sympathy, and the gentle voice of compassion, he is driven from the gate by the insults of a slave, and the growl of a mastiff.

With tenderness of feeling, vanishes, also, tenderness of conscience: that inestimable blessing to man: the indispensable means. of piety, and salvation. The continual increase of the appetite for wealth, continually overcomes its remonstrances, and gradually diminishes its power. Conscience, often vanquished, is vanquished with ease. Avarice accomplishes this defeat every day, and every hour. Soon, therefore, its voice, always disregarded, ceases to be heard. Then Religion and duty plead with as little success, as friendship and suffering pleaded before. All the motives to repentance, faith, and obedience, lose their power; and might with equal efficacy be addressed to blocks and stones.

To the miser, nothing is of any value but wealth. But wealth, Conscience cannot proffer; the Scriptures do not insure; God does not promise. Therefore Conscience, the Scriptures, and God, are of no value to him. To riches, to bargains, to loans, to amassVOL. III.

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