The Candour of Love

“Charily beareth all things.”

Some writers consider this verse as an amplification of the foregoing one, and explain it, in reference to the truth, in the following manner: — “It beareth all things” reported in the truth, however opposed to the corruption of human nature, and counts none of them hard sayings or unfit to be borne; “it believeth all things” imported in the great truth, or all the inferences which the Apostles have deduced from it, as being well affected to the source from whence they flow: “hopeth for all things” promised in it, and “endureth all things;” or patiently suffers all the afflictions that can attend a steady attachment to it. This gives a very good sense of the words, and admits the full force of the universal expressions. Yet it certainly agrees better with the scope of the Apostle, to understand the verse with reference to the brethren as the objects of it.

If we render the first expression, and which we are now about to consider, as our translators have done, it may signify our bearing one another’s burdens and weaknesses, which is to fulfil the law of Christ: and it must be confessed this is strictly true; for whoever is under the influence of this principle, will possess a spirit of tender sympathy. In this world we all groan, being burdened. Each has his own load of care, or grief, or imperfection. This is not the state where we find perfect rest. How wide is the scope, how frequent the opportunity, how numerous the occasions, for synpathy! And, who that is possessed of benevolence, can allow himself to pass a brother upon the road, labouring under a heavier load than his own, without offering to bear a part 1 We are not to be impertinently officious and intermeddling, nor to pry into the secrets of our neighbours with an inquisitive curiosity; but to inquire into the cause which gives them so much solicitude or so much grief, is the duty of those who are the witnesses of their careworn countenance and downcast look. What an unfeeling heart must that man have, who can see the very form of care and sorrow before him, and never kindly ask the reason of its existence ] It is but little that sympathy can do for the sufferer, but that little should be m.ost cheerfully afforded. To be unnoticed and unpitied in our griefs, adds greatly to their weight. For what purpose are Christians collected into churches 1 not merely to eat the Lord’s Supper together: this could be done without any such distinct recognition of a mutual relationship, as that which takes place in the fellowship of believers. The end and design of this bond is, that being united as one body, the members might cherish a general sympathy for each other, and exercise their benevolence in the way of mutual assistance. The rich, by their munificence, should help their poorer brethren to bear the burden of poverty; the strong should aid the weak to bear the burden of their fears and apprehensions; those who are in health and ease should, by seasonable visits, and soothing words, and kind offices, bear the burdens of the sick; counsel should always be given, when it is sought by those who are in difficulty; and a disposition should pervade the whole body, to render its varied resources, talents, and energies, available for the benefit of the whole.

But though this also gives a beautiful meaning, and enjoins a necessary duty, it is not the right view of the passage. The word translated “beareth” all things, signifies also, “to contain, to conceal, to cover.” The idea of “bearing” is parallel in meaning with that of “enduring,” of which the Apostle speaks in the latter part of the vei’se; and it is not probable that it was his intention to express the same thought twice. Adopting “concealment” as the sentiment intended to be expressed and the failings of others as the object to which it refers, I shall go on to show in what way it is practised.

To do this with still greater effect, we shall exhibit a general view of those sins to which the view of Christian charity stands exposed; and these are, slander, detraction, and rash judging, or censoriousness.

Perhaps there are no sins which are more frequently alluded to, or more severely rebuked, in Scripture, than those of the tongue; and for this reason, — because there are none to which we are so frequently tempted — none we are so prone to indulge, or so bold to excuse — none which are so fruitful of disorder and discomfort to society. Besides swearing, falsehood, obscenity, blasphemy, — the Scripture speaks of bearing false witness, railing, tale-bearing, whispering, backbiting, slander, and reproach: — a dismal enumeration of vices belonging to that member which was intended to be the glory of our frame. By slander, we understand the circulation of a false report with the intention of injuring a neighbour’s reputation. Its most vicious excess is the invention and construction of a story which is absolutely false from beginning to end. Its next lower grade, though little inferior in criminality, is to become the propagator of the tale, knowing it to be false. “This,” says Barrow, “is to become the hucksters of counterfeit wares, or factors in this vile trade. There is no coiner who hath not emissaries and accomplices ready to take from his hand and put off his money; and such slanderers at second hand are scarcely less guilty than the first authors. He that breweth lies may have more wit and skill, but the broacher showeth the like malice and wickedness. In this there is no great difference between the great devil that frameth scandalous reports, and the little imps that run about and disperse them.” The next operation of slander is to receive and spread, without examining into the truth of them, false and injurious reports. It is a part of a good man’s character, that “He taketh not up a reproach against his neighbour;” i. e. he does not easily entertain it, much less propagate it; he does not receive it but upon the most convincing evidence: but slander founds reproachful tales upon conjecture or suspicion, and raises an injurious representation upon a suppositious foundation. Sometimes it withers the reputation of a neighbour by rash speaking, or vehemently affirming things which it has no reason to believe, and no motive for affirming, but the hope of exciting ill will. Slander is sinful, because forbidden in every part of Scripture; cruel, because it is robbing our neighbour of that which is dearer to him than life; and foolish, because it subjects the calumniator himself to all kinds of inconvenience, — for it not only exposes him to the wrath of God, the loss of his soul, and the miseries of hell in the world to come, but it makes him odious in the present life, causes him to be shunned and discredited, arms his conscience against his own peace, brings upon himself the most reproachful accusations, and not unfrequently the vengeance of that public justice, which is rightly appointed to be the guardian not only of property and life, but of reputation also.

Detraction, or backbiting, differs a little from slander, though, in its general nature and constitution, it closely resembles it. Slander involveth an imputation of falsehood; but detraction may clothe itself with truth: it is sweetened poison, served from a golden cup by the hand of hypocrisy. A detractor’s aim is the same as the slanderer’s — to injure the reputation of another; but he avails himself of means that are a little different. He represents persons and actions under the most disadvantageous circumstances he can, — setting forth those which may make them appear guilty or ridiculous, and throwing into the shade such as are commendable. “When he cannot deny the metal to be good and the stamp to be true, he clippeth it, and so rejecteth it from being current: he misconstrues doubtful actions unfavourably, and throws over the very virtues of his neighbours the name of faults, — calling the sober sour, the conscientious morose, the devout superstitious, the frugal sordid, the cheerful frivolous, and the reserved crafty: he diminishes from the excellence of good actions, by showing how much better they might have been done; and attempts to destroy all confidence in long-established character, and all respect for it, by pitching on some single act of imprudence, and expanding it into a magnitude, and darkening it into a shadow, which truth and justice forbid. Such is the backbiter; whose crime is compounded of the ingredients of ill humour, pride, selfishness, envy, malice, falsehood, cowardice, and folly. Backbiting must be peculiarly hateful to God: “He is the God of truth, and therefore detesteth lying, of which detraction ever hath a spice: He is the God of justice, and therefore doth especially abhor wronging the best persons and actions: He is the God of love, and therefore cannot but loath this capital violation of charity: He is jealous of his glory, and therefore cannot endure it to be abused by slurring his good gifts and graces: He cannot but hate the offence which approacheth to that most heinous and unpardonable sin, that consisteth in defaming the excellent works performed by divine power and goodness, ascribing them to bad causes.”

The same writer, in speaking of the mischief of detraction, as discouraging others from the performance of that goodness which is thus vilified and defamed, has the following beautiful remarks. Many, seeing the best men thus disparaged, and the best actions vilified, are disheartened and deterred from practising virtue, especially in a conspicuous and eminent degree: — “Why,”

will many a man say, “shall I be strictly good, seeing goodness is so liable to be misused ] Had I not better be contented with a mediocrity and obscurity of goodness, than by a glaring lustre thereof to draw the envious eye and kindle raging obloquy upon me?” And when the credit of virtue is blasted in its practices, many will be diverted from it. So will it grow out of request, and the world be corrupted by these agents of the Evil One. It were adviseable, upon this consideration, not to seem ever to detract, even not then when we are assured that, by speaking ill, we shall not really do it; if we should discover any man to seem worthy, or to be so reputed, whom yet we discern, by standing in a nearer light, not to be truly such, yet wisdom would commonly dictate, and goodness dispose, not to mar his repute. If we should observe, without danger of mistake, any plausible action to be performed out of bad inclinations, principles, or designs, yet ordinarily in discretion and honesty, we should let it pass with such commendation as its appearance may procure, rather than slur it by venting our disadvantageous apprehensions about it; for it is no great harm that any man should enjoy undeserved commendation; our granting its claims is but being over just, which, if it ever be a fault, can hardly be so in this case, wherein we do not expend any cost or suffer any damage; but it may do mischief to blemish any appearance of virtue: it may be a wrong thereto, to deface its very image; the very disclosing of hypocrisy doth inflict a wound on goodness, and exposeth it to scandal, for bad men will then be prone to infer that all virtue doth proceed from the like bad principles; so the disgrace cast on that which is spurious, will redound to the prejudice of that which is most genuine. And if it be good to forbear detracting from that which is certainly false, much more so in regard to that which is possibly true; and far more still is it so in respect to that which is clear and sure.

Censoriousness is another sin of the same class — another child of the same family: varying, however, from those we have already considered by acting not so much in the way of reporting faults as in condemning them. It is different from slander, inasmuch as it assumes, that what it condemns is true; and from detraction, inasmuch as it is not exercised with an intention to injure another in public estimation, but only to reprove him for what is wrong. It assumes the character, not of a witness, but of a judge: hence the injunction, “Judge not.” Censoriousness, then, means a disposition to scrutinize men’s motives — to pass sentence upon their conduct — to reproach their faults, — accompanied by an unwillingness to make all reasonable allowances for their mistakes, and a tendency to the side of severity rather than to that of leniency. We are not to suppose that all inspection and condemnation of the conduct of others is sin; nor that all reproof of offenders is a violation of the law of charity; nor that we are to think well of our neighbours, in opposition to the plainest evidence; nor that we are to entertain such a credulous opinion of the excellence of mankind, as unsuspectingly to confide in every man’s pretences: but what we condemn is needlessly inquiring into the conduct and motives of other men; examining and arraigning them at our bar, when we stand in no relation to them that requires such a scrutiny; delivering our opinion when it is not called for; pronouncing sentence with undue severity, and heaping the heaviest degree of reproach Upon an offender which we can find language to express,

“The world is become so extremely critical and censorious, that in many places the chief employment of men, and the main body of conversation, is, if we mark it, taken up in judging; every company is a court of justice, every seat becometh a tribunal, at every table standeth a bar, whereunto all men are cited — whereat every man, as it happeneth, is arraigned and sentenced; no sublimity or sacredness of dignity — no integrity or innocence of life — no prudence or circumspection of demeanour, — can exempt any person from it. Not one escapes being taxed under some odious name or scandalous character or other. Not only the outward actions and visible practices of men are judged* but their retired sentiments are brought under review — their inward dispositions have a verdict passed upon them — their final states are determined. Whole bodies of men are thus judged at once; and nothing is it in one breath to damn whole churches — at one push, to throw down whole nations into the bottomless pit: yea, God himself is hardly spared, his providence coming under the bold obloquy of those, who, — as the Psalmist speaketh of some in his time, whose race does yet survive, — speak loftily, and sei their mouth against the heavens.” Barrow, in order to censure this temper, gives the following qualifications of a judge. He should be appointed by competent authority and not intrude him>- self into office. To how many censors may we say, “Who made thee a judge?’ He should be free from all prejudice and partiality. Is this the case with the censorious? He should never proceed to judgment, icithout a careful examination of the case, so as well to understand it. Let the private self-appointed judges remember this, and act upon the principle of Solomon — “He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is a folly and a shame to him.” He shoidd never pronounct sentence. but upon good grounds, after certain proof and full conviction. If this rule were observed, how many censures would be prevented. He will not meddle with causes beyond the jurisdiction of his court. If this were recollected and acted upon, the voice of unlawful censure would die away in silence; for who are we, that we should try the hearts and search the reins of men, or judge another’s servant ‘? He never proceeds against any man, icithout citing him to appear, either in person or by his representative, and giving him an opportunity to defend himself When any one is censured in company, there should always be found some generous mind, who would propose that the accused should be sent for, and the trial put ofif till he appeared. He must pronounce, not according to private fancy, but to public and established laws. Is this the rule of the censorious? Is it not rather their custom to make their own private opinion the lawl He should be a person of great knowledge and abUity. What is the usual character of the private censors of human conduct 1 are they not persons of great ignorance and few ideas, who, for want of something else to say, or ability to say it, talk of their neighbours’ faults, — a topic on which a child or a fool can be fluent? He is not an accuser; and moreover is, by virtue of his office, counsel for the accused. On the contrary, the censorious are, generally, not only judges but accusers, and counsel against the culprits whom they have brought to their bar. He should lean, as far as the public good will allow to the side of mercy: but mercy has no place in the bosom of the censorious, and their very justice is cruelty and oppression. He must himself be innocent. Why is there not a voice heard in every company, when the prisoner is arraigned, and the process of judgment begins, saying “He that is without sin, let him cast the first stone 1” He proceeds with

solemnity and grief, and slowness, to pass the sentence. But what indecent haste and levity, not excepting joy, do we witness in those who are given to the practice of censuring their neighbours’ conduct.*

Now, to all these sinful practices Christian love stands directly opposed. It is a long time before it allows itself to perceive the faults of others. Not more quick is instinct in the bird, or beast, or fish, of prey, to discover its victim, than the detractor and the censorious are to descry imperfections as soon as they appear in the conduct of those around them. Their vision is quite telescopic, to see objects of this kind at a distance, and they have a miscroscopic power of inspection, to examine those that are small and near: and, when looking at faults, they always employ the highest magnifying power which their instrument admits of; while for the purpose of looking at those spots, which to the naked eye would be lost amidst the surrounding glory, they carry a darkened glass. They do not want to see virtues: no; all that is fair, and good, and lovely, is passed over in quest

* Dr. Barrow’s Sermons.

of deformity and evil. But all this is utterly abhorrent to the nature of love; which, intent upon the well-being of mankind, and anxious for their happiness, is ever looking out for the signs and the symptoms which betoken that the sum of human felicity is perpetually increasing. The eye of the Christian philanthropist is so busily employed in seart;hing for excellence, and so fixed and so ravished by it when it is found, that it is sure to pass over many things of a contrary nature, as not included in the object of its inquiry: just as he who is searching for gems is likely to pass by many common stones unheeded; or as he who is looking for a particular star or constellation in the heavens, is not likely to see the tapers which are near him upon earth. Good men are his delight; and to come at these, very many of the evil generation are passed by: and there is also a singular power of abstraction in his benevolence, to separate, when looking at a mixed character, the good from the evil, and, losing sight of the latter, to concentrate its observation in the former.

And when love is obliged to admit the existence of imperfections, it diminishes as much as possible their magnitude, and hides them as much as is lawful from its own notice. It takes no delight in looking at them, finds no pleasure in keeping them before its attention, and poring into them; but turns away from them, as an unpleasant object, as a delicate sense would from whatever is offensive. If we find an affinity between our thoughts and the sins of which we are the spectators, it is a plain proof that our benevolence is of a very doubtful nature, or in a feeble state; on the contrary, if we involuntarily turn away our eyes from beholding evil, and are conscious to ourselves of a strong revulsion, and an acute distress, when we cannot altogether retire from the view of it, we possess an evidence that we know much of that virtue which covereth all things. If we are properly, as we ought to be, under the influence of love, we shall make all reasonable allowances for those things which are wrong in the conduct of our neighbour; we shall, as we have already considered, not be forward to suspect evil; but shall do everytKing to lessen the heinousness of the action. This is what is meant, when it is said that “Charity covers a multitude of sins. Hatred stirreth up strifes, but love covereth all sins.”

It is the wish and the act of love, to conceal from the public all the faults, which the’good of the offender, and the ends of public justice, do not require to be disclosed. There are cases, in which to conceal offences, whatever kindness it may be to one, would be unkindness to many. If a person living in sin, has so far imposed upon a minister, as to induce him to propose him for admission to the fellowship of the church, it is the bounden duty of any individual, who knows the real character of the candidate, to make it known to the pastor; and the same disclosure should be made in reference to a person already in communion, who is actually living in sin: concealment in these cases is an injury to the whole body of Christians. If a person is likely to be injured in his temporal concerns, by reposing confidence in one who is utterly unworthy of it, it. is the duty of those who are acquainted with the snare to warn the destined victim of his danger. If any are so far regardless of the peace of society and the laws of the country, as to be engaged in great crimes against both, concealment on the part of those who are aware of the existence of such practices, is a participation in the crime. As our love is to be universal, as well as particular, it must never be exercised towards individuals in a way that is really opposed to the interests of the community.

But where no other interest is concerned — where no claims demand a disclosure — where no injury is done by conceahnent, and no benefit is conferred by giving publicity to a fault, — there our duty is to cover it over with the veil of secrecy, and maintain an unbroken silence upon the subject.

Instead of this friendly and amiable reserve, how different is the way in which many act! No sooner have they hea?d of the commission of a fault, than they set off with the intelligence, as glad as if they bore the tidings of a victory, proclaiming the melancholy fact with strange delight in every company, and almost to every indilidual they meet; and as there is a greedy appetite in some persons for scandal, they find many ears as open to listen to the tale, as their lips are to tell it: or, perhaps, they relate the matter as a secret, extorting a promise from those to whom they communicate it that they will never mention it again. But if it be not proper to publish it to the world, why do they speak of it at all? If it be proper for publicity, why lock up others in silence 1 Sometimes the telling faults in secret is a pitiable kind of weakness, an utter impossibility of keeping anything in the mind, accompanied by an intention of pubhshing it only to a single person; but not unfrequently it is a wish to have the gratification of being the first to communicate the report to a large number of persons: each is made to promise that he will not disclose it, that the original reporter may not be anticipated as he pursues his round, and thus have his delight diminished, in being everywhere the first to tell the bad news.

Then there are some, who publish the faults of others under the hypocritical pretence of lamenting over them, and producing in others a caution against the same thing. You will see them in company putting on a grave countenance, and hear them asking the person who sits near them, but with a voice loud enough to reach every corner of the room, whether he has heard the report of Mr. Such-an-one’s conduct; and when every ear is caught, every tongue silent, and every eye fixed, he will proceed, in a strain of deep lamentation and tender commiseration, to bewail the misconduct of the delinquent, — seasoning the narration of the oftence, as he goes through all its circumstances and all its aggravations, with many expressions of pity for the offender, and many words of caution to the company. Thus, under the hypocritical guise of pity and the abhorrence of sin, has he indulged in this mischievous yet too common propensity, to pubhsh the failings of some erring brother. Has he mentioned the subject to the individual himself] If not, and he has withheld this mode of expressing his pity, what avails his public commiseration 1 What possible sympathy with the offender can it be, to placard him in public, and blazon his faults in company 1

Some there are, who suppose that there is little harm in talking, in their own particular circles, of the failings of their neighbours: they would not speak of these things before strangers, or society in general; but they feel no scruple in making them matter of conversation among their select friends. But these friends may not all be prudent; and if it be not desirable that the fact should not be known without the circle, the best way is, that it be not known within it. Where there is no benefit likely to be obtained by publicity, it is best, in reference to character, to lock up the secret in our own mind, and literally to observe the injunction of the prophet — “Trust ye not in a friend, put ye not confidence in a guide; keep the doors of thy mouth from her that lieth in thy bosom.”

Love, not only will not originate, but will not help to circulate, an evil report. When the tale comes to her, there, at least in that direction, it stops. There are gossips, who, though they would shudder at slander, and, perhaps, would not be the first to give publicity to an idle report of another, yet would feel no scruple in telling what many already know. “It is no secret,” they say, “else I would not mention it.” But we should not do even this: we should neither invent, nor originate, nor propagate, an evil report. While every tongue is voluble in spreading bad tidings, charity will be silent: while all seem anxious to enjoy communion in baclbiting and detraction, and to sip the cup of detraction as it passes round the company, she says to the person who has told the story, “I have no ears for defamation, or even for the tale of another’s faults. Go, and affectionately speak with the individual of his failings, but do not talk of them in public.” If all men acted on these principles, slander would die upon the lips which gave it birth; tale-bearers would cease, for want of customers, to carry on their trade as pedlars in detraction; backbiting would go out of fashion; and the love of scandal be starved for want of food.

The evils, then, to which love is opposed, are — Calumny which invents a slanderous report to injure the reputation of another; detraction, which magnifies a fault; censorioiisness, which is too officious and too rigid in condemning it; tale-bearing, which propagates it; curiosity, which desires to know it; malignity, which takes delight in it. Of this list of vices, calumny is, of course, the worst; but a tattling disposition, though it may have little of the mafignity of slander, is a servant to do its work, and a tool to peietrate its mischief. Persons of this description are far too numerous. They are to be found in every town, in every village — yes, and in every church. They are not the authors of libels, but they are the pubfishers; they do not draw up the placard, but only paste it up in all parts of the town; and are amenable, not for the malice which invented the defamatory lie, but for the mischief of circulating it. Their minds are a kind of common sewer, into which all the filthy streams of scandal are perpetually flowing: a receptacle for whatever is offensive and noxious. Such gossips might be pitied for their weakness, if they were not still more to be dreaded for the injury they do. They are not malignants, but they are mischief-makers; and, as such, should be shunned and dreaded. Every door should be closed against them, or, at least, every ear. They should be made to feel that, if silence be a penance to them, their idle and injurious tales are a much more afflictive penance to their neighbours. Now, such persons would not only be rendered more safe, but more dignified, by charity: this heavenly virtue, by destroying their propensity to gossiping, would rescue them from reproach, and confer upon them an elevation of character to which they were strangers before. It would turn their activity into a new channel, and make them as anxious to promote the peace of society, as they were before to disturb it by the din of their idle and voluble tongue. They would perceive that no man’s happiness can be promoted by the pubUcation of his faults: for if he be penitent, to have his failings made the butt of ridicule, is like pouring nitre and vinegar upon the deep wounds of a troubled mind; or if he be not, this exposure will do harm, by producing irritation, and by thus placing him farther off from true contrition.

If it be essential to charity, to feel a disposition to cover the faults which we witness, and to treat with tenderness and delicacy the offender, it is quite distressing to consider how little of it there is in the world. How much need have we to labour for an increase of it ourselves, and to diffuse it, both by our influence and example, that the harmony of society may not be so frequently interrupted by the lies of the slanderer, the exaggerations of the detractor, the harsh judgments of the censorious, or the idle gossip of the tale-bearer.

“Charity believeth all things.”

Nearly allied to the property we have just considered, and an essential part of candour, is that which follows; — “Chaiity believeth all things;” — ?’. e. not all things contained in the word of God, — for faith in divine testimony is not here the subject treated of, — -but all things which are testified concerning our brethren; not, however, such as are testified to their disadvantage, but in their favour. This property or operation of love is so involved, and has been to such an extent illustrated, in what we have already considered, that it cannot be necessary to enlarge upon the subject. As charity regards with benevolent desire the well-being of all, it must feel naturally disposed to believe whatever can be stated in their favour. Tell a fond mother of the faults of her child: does she immediately and entirely believe the testimony? No. You will perceive an aspect of unbelief on her countenance; you will hear inquiries and doubtful insinuations from her lips: and after the clearest evidence has been adduced in support of the testimony, you will still discern that she believes you not. But, on the contrary, carry to her a report of her child’s good conduct — tell her of his achievements in wisdom or in virtue, — and you see at once the look of assent, the smile of approbation, hear the language of conviction, and, in some cases, witness a degree of confidence which amounts to weakness. How can we account for this? On the principle of the Apostle, that “love believeth all things:” the mother loves her child; she is sincerely anxious for his well-being; and as our wishes have an influence upon our convictions, she is forward to believe what is said to her child’s honour, and as backward to believe what is said to his discredit.

Here, then, is one of the brightest displays of charity, as exhibited in the man who believeth all things which are related to the advantage of others. He hears the report with unfeigned pleasure, hstens with the smile of approbation, the nod of assent; he does not turn to the subject of human depravity, to find ground and reason for discrediting the fact, nor does he search with inquisitive eye for some flaw in the evidence to impeach the veracity of the testimony; he does not cautiously hold his judgment in abeyance, as if afraid of believing too well of his neighbour; but, if the evidence amount to probability, he is ready to believe the account, and delights to find another and another instance of human excellence, by which he may be more reconciled and attached to the family of man, and by which he discovers that there is more goodness and happiness on earth than he knew of before.

The strongest proof and power of love, in this mode of its operation, is its disposition to believe all good reports of an enemy or a rival. Many persons can believe nothing good, but everything bad, of those whom they consider in this light. Let them have once conceived a prejudice or a dislike; let them only have been injured or oflended, opposed or humbled, by any one;

—and from that moment their ears are closed against every word to his credit, and open to every tale that may tend to his disgrace. Prejudice has neither eyes nor ears for good; but is all eye and ear for evil. Its influence on the judgment is prodigious; its bewildering operation upon our convictions is really most surprizing and frightful. In many cases, it giveg up evidence as bright, clear, and steady, as the meridian splendour of the sun, to follow that which is as dim and delusive as the feeble light of an ignis fatuus. How tremblingly anxious should we be to keep the mind free from this misleading influence! How careful to obtain that candid, impartial, discriminating judgment, which can distinguish things that differ, and approve of things that are excellent, even in reference to persons that are in some respects opposed to us! This is candour; and a more important disposition of the kind we can scarcely imagine. Through that great law of our nature, which we call the association of ideas, we are too apt, when we have discovered one thing wrong in the character or conduct of another, to unite with it nothing but wrong, and that continually: we scarcely ever think of him, or repeat his name, but under the malign influence of this unhappy association. What we need is more of that power of abstraction of which we have already spoken, by which we can separate the occasional act from permanent character — the bad qualities from the good ones, — and still be left at liberty to believe what is good, notwithstanding what we know of the bad.

If, in accordance with the principles of revelation, the testimony of our senses, and the evidence of experience, we believe that there is none so perfect in the view of God as to be destitute of all flaws; we at the same time believe that, so far as mere general excellence goes, there are few so bad as to be destitute of all approvable traits. It is the business of candour, to examine, to report, to believe with impartiality, and candour is one of the operations of love. This heavenly disposition forbids the prejudice which is generated by differences on the subject of religion, and enables its possessor to discredit the evil, and to believe the favourable testimony which is borne to those of other denominations and of other congTegations. All excellence belongs not to our society or sect; all evil is not to be found in other societies or sects: yet how prepared are many persons to believe nothing good, or everything bad, of other sects or other societies. Away, away, with this detestable spirit! cast it out of the church of the living God! like the legion spirit which possessed the man wdio dwelt among the tombs, and made him a torment to himself and a terror to others, this demon of prejudice has too long possessed, and torn, and infuriated, even the body of the Church.” Spirit of love! descend, and expel the infernal usurper. Cast out this spoiler of our beauty, this disturber of our peace, this opponent of our communion, this destroyer of our honour. Before thy powerful yet gentle sway, let prejudice retire, and prepare us to believe all things that are reported to us to the credit of others — be they of our party or not — whether they have offended us or not — and whether in past times they have done evil or good,’’

“Charity hopeth all things.”

Hope has the same referenfce here, as the faith just considered; it relates not to what God has promised in his word to them that love him, but to the good which is reported to exist in our neighbours.’ In a report of a doubtful matter, where the evidence is apparently against an individual, love will still hope that something may yet turn up to his advantage — that some light will yet be thrown on the darker features of the case, which will set the matter in a more favourable point of view; it will not give full credit to present appearances, however indicative they may seem to be of evil, but hope, even against hope, for the best.

If the action itself cannot be defended, then love will hope that the motive was not bad; that the intention in the mind of the actor was not so evil as the deed appeared to the eye of the spectator; that ignorance, not malice, was the. cause of the transaction; and that the time will come when this will be apparent.

Love does not speedily abandon an offender in despondency — does not immediately give him up as incorrigible, nor soon cease to employ the means necessary for his reformation; but is willing to expect that he may yet repent and improve, however discouraging present appearances may be. Hope is the main spring of exertion; and as love means a desire for the well-being of others, it will not soon let go that hope, in the absence of which all its efforts must be paralyzed.

There are reasons which make it wise, as well as kindj to believe and hope all things for the best. Presumptive evidence, however strong, is often fallacious. Many circumstances in the case may look very suspicious; and yet the after-discovery of some little event may alter the aspect of the whole affair, and make the innocence of the accused far more apparent than even his guilt seemed before. The various instances in which we have ourselves been deceived by appearances, and have been led by defective, though at the time convincing, evidence, should certainly teach us caution in listening to evil reports, and dispose us to beUeve and hope all things.

When we consider, also, how common is slander, detraction, and talebearing, we should not be hasty in forming an opinion; aior should we forget the anxiety which is often manifested by each party engaged in a contention to gain our alliance to their cause, by being first to report the matter, and to produce an impression favourable to themselves. Solomon has given us a proverb, the truth of which we have seen proved in a thousand instances, and which, notwithstanding, we are continually forgetting, — “He that is first in his own cause, seemeth to be just; but his neighbour cometh and searcheth him out.” It is a proof of great weakness, so to give our ear to the first reporter, as to close It againstifce-other party: and yet we are all prone to do this. A plausible tale produces an impression, which no subsequent opposing testimony, though attended with far clearer evidence of truth than the first statement, can effectually obliterate. We know that every case has two aspects — we have all been experimentally acquainted with the folly of deciding till we have heard both sides; and yet, in opposition to our reason and to our experience, we are apt to take up a prejudice upon ex-parte statements. Another circumstance, by which we are in danger of being misled in our opinion of our neighbour’s conduct, is the mischievous propensity of many persons, to exaggerate everything they relate. Whatever be the philosophical cause, into which a fondness for the marvellous, and a delight in exciting surprise, may be resolved, its existence, and its prevalence, are unquestionable. Perhaps, we all like to relate what is new, and strange, and interesting; not excepting even bad news. To such a pitch is this carried, by those who are deeply infected with the propensity, that they never tell anything as they heard it: every fact is embellished or magnified. If a neighbour has displayed a little warmth of temper, they saw him raging like a fury: if he was a little cheerful after dinner, he was tippling; if he was evasive, they protest that he committed palpable falsehood, if not perjury; if he had not been so generous in his transactions as could be wished, he was an extortioner, and devoid of common honesty. Nothing is moderate and sober in the hands of such persons; everything is extravagant, or extraordinary. All they meet with, is in the form of adventure. Out of the least incident they can construct a tale; and on a small basis of truth, raise a mighty superstructure of fiction, to interest and impress every company into which they come. Undeterred by the presence of the individual from whom they received the original fact, they will not scruple to go on magnifying and embellishing, till the author of the statement can scarcely recognize his own narrative. How strange it seems, that such people should either not know, or not remember, that all this while they are telling falsehoods. They do not seem to understand, that if we relate a circumstance in such a manner as is calculated to give an impression which, either in nature or degree, does not accord with reality, we are guilty of the sin of lying. Where character is concerned, the sin is still greater, since it adds detraction to falsehood. Many a man’s reputation has been frittered away by this wicked and mischievous propensity. Every narrator of an instance of misconduct, not, perhaps, heinous in the first instance, has added something to the original fact, till the offence has stood before the public eye, so blackened by this accumulative defamation, that, for a while, he has lost his character, and only partially recovered it in the end, and with extreme difficulty. Remembering the existence of such an evil, we should be backward to take up an unfavourable opinion upon first appearance; and where we cannot believe all things, be willing to hope: such is the dictate of charity, and such the conduct of those who yield their hearts to its influence.