The History and Character of Martha and Mary of Bethany

‘‘ Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered anto a certain village: and a certain woman named Martksa received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her’ — LuxE x. 38-42

Tas beautiful little gem of sacred history is replete with instruction in: reference to every one of the individuals which it brings before us. It is a group of characters, each possessing its own peculiar excellence and interest. How much does it say for the condescension, kindness, and fidelity of the chief personage of the scene; and not less for the feelings and the excellences of the other two. In the person and conduct of Jesus Christ are always combinec, without being confounded, all the uncreated glories of the godhead, and all the milder beauties of the perfect man; and if, in the admiration of his humanity, we are not to lose sight of his divinity, so neither in the contemplation of his divinity are we to forget his humanity. Human nature had its consummation in him — he is its representative in its best estate — the patiern man. His greatness did not raise him above any branch or manifestation of goodness. Is friendship one of the virtues of our nature — one of the bonds of society — one of the blessings of life — a sweet and lovely flower that unfolds its beauty and exhales its fragrance in the garden of our social existence? Behold in Jesus Christ this virtue in perfection! He had his attachments, not indeed capricious ones; they were all founded on adequate reasons for their selection and exercise; but he had them. His nature was susceptible of special regards. He felt more complacency in some persons than he did in others, whom still he loved. He does so now. Hence the groundlessness of the cavil against Christianity that it nowhere positively enjoins the practice of friendship; for it does more — it exhsbits it in the character and conduct of its Divine Founder. For “Jesus loved Martha, and her sis. ter, and Lazarus;” and this was so well known, that when Lazarus was ill, “his sisters sent unto Christ, saying, Lcrd, behold he whom thou lovest is sick.” And where shall we find a more beautiful manifestation of friendship than is described in the gospel narrative.of Christ’s conduct wuen Lazarus was dead?

CHARACTER OF MARTHA AND MARY. 34ay

In entering upon this interesting history, 1 may observe, that it is one of the peculiarities of our Saviour’s discourses that he often takes occasion to graft general truths on special incidents — makes comparatively small occurrences the vehicle of momentous instructions, and in a few words says all that is necessary to bring everlasting truth, in some important view of it, home to all times and circumstances, Standing on the spiritual central-point, he, without violence, entwined the minutest and least important circumstances of the present with the loftiest eternal verities, Thus in the conduct of — the two sisters before us, he places together the nothingness of all love and care for the body, in comparison with care for the soul and solicitude about that which is everlasting.

Bethany was a little village about two miles from Jerusalem, inhabited as a suburban retreat by many wealthy and respectable Jews. There dwelt Martha, who appears to have been the elder sister, and mistress of the house, her sister Mary, and a brother, named Lazarus. Whether the sisters were maidens or. widows, we are not informed. All we we know of the family is — and it is the best and most worthy thing to de known of them — that they were all united, not only by the ties of nature, but of grace — they were all one in Christ, partakers of “the common salvation,” by a “like precious faith.”

In the bosom of this little quiet and holy family it is probable Jesus occasionally found repose after the bodily fatigues and mental sufferings of the un. believing city; for his humanity was susceptible of both these, indeed, of all the sinless infirmities of our nature, and even of the relief afforded by rest and pious converse. ‘O happy house,” says the pious Bishop Hall, “into which the Son of God vouchsafed to set his foot! O blessed women, that had grace to be the hostesses to the Lord of heaven and earth! How should envy your felicity herein, if 1 did not see the same favor, though in a different way, if I be not wanting to myself, lying open to me.” There are two ways of receiving Christ — in himself, by opening the door of our hearts by faith; and in his members, by opening our hands by charity, and our doors by hospitality. And Christ will esteem himself better served in these ways, than he would, were he again upon earth, by being entertained in our houses.

On one occasion, when the divine visitant made his appearance by an unexpected advent, Martha, as the head of the household, the presiding spirit of the domestic economy, with an anxiety prompted by a loving and generous heart toward her illustrious guest, not altogether, perhaps, unmixed with a desire to display her skill in good housewifery, set about providing the best and fullest entertainment the larder could afford. We can see her in the fullness of her cares and the activity of her temper, cheerfully and busily engaged in getting ready the supper. Eyeing every thing with mirute inspection and provident forethought, that nothing might be wanting that was worthy either of her Lord or of herself. Generous but mistaken woman, dost thou know so little of thy Lord as to imagine he needs or can be gratified with all this culinary care and carnal provision? Hadst thou never heard what he once said to his disciples when pressed to take food? “My meat and my. drink are to do the will of my Father in heaven.” Yet it was love, though mistaken love. I can fancy her saying to herself, “Can I ever do enough for him who deserves infinitely more than all I can do? Cheerfully will I give him the best I have, and the most I am able to perform. To give to Jesus and labor for him are my delight. He has my heart and - he shall have my hand, my feet, my house, my all.”

And where all this while was Mary? Eagerly availing herself of the precious opportunity afforded by the presence of the Great Teacher, sitting at his feet. to receive instruction. Such a season might never return; and she was determined to make the best of it by listening to every word the Saviour said. Yet we are not to suppose that Martha had not been at the Master’s feet at all, listening to any part of Christ’s instructions, for it is said of Mary that “she also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word,” evidently implying that some other had been there also, which no doubt was Martha; who, just then, like some of her sex, thinking of the house and its duties while in the sanctuary and service of God, recollected the supposed necessary provision to be made, and somewhat abruptly rose up and retired from the presence of Christ to the scene of ner domestic solicitude, leaving Mary to be feasted sy Christ, while she goes to make a feast for him. ‘I know not,” says the good bishop already quoted, “how to censure the holy women for an excess of care to welcome her Saviour.”

How apt are we to measure other people’s sense uf propriety, and rightness of conduct, by our own, and to blame them for not exercising their religion and expressing their love and obedience to Christ in our mode. Mary, perhaps, wondered that Martha could on any ground whatever cease to listen to the instruction of Christ, while Martha wondered no less that Mary could sit still and be a learner when she ought to have been active as a provider. Martha would be ready to blame Mary for her want of love in keeping Christ talking when she should have been caring for his refreshment; while Mary would be apt to blame Martha for the lukewarmness of her regard, in not eagerly catching every word that fell from his lips, Let us learn that all may equally love Christ, who do not take exactly the same mode of showing it. Goodness has great latitude, and is very ingenious in its modes. It is uniform in essentials, but multiform in circumstantials.

After waiting some time, and expecting Mary to come out and assist her, and after often, perhaps, casting a silent but reproachful look at Mary, as the door stood ajar, and she saw her still sitting at the feet of Jesus, Martha’s patience could endure it no longer, and in unseemly haste, and ruffled temper, and irreverent manner, she entered the room, and thus addressed herself to Christ: “Lord, carest thou not that my sister hath left me to serve alone? Bid her that she come and help me.” It was a sad speech, which, in her cooler moments, she must have condemned. It was irreverent to Christ, for it accused him in angry tone of neglect of her comfort. It was unkind to her sister, for it implied that she was wanting both in love to Christ and to herself. It was well she had one to deal with who knoweth our frame, and remembereth we are but dust. Why did she appeal first to Christ, and arraign her sister at Ais bar? Might she not have beckoned her away, or whispered in her ear? Or why, when she saw her so devoutly engaged, did she not leave her to her rapt enjoyment, and say: “Happy sister, to be thus enjoying thy Lord’s presence and instructions; would I could feel at liberty from these cares, and’ be at thy side; but somebody must provide for the comfort of the Master, and ghis belongs to me.” Those are not always in the right who are most forward in their appeals to God. Many are more anxious to get God on their side, than to be on the side of God; and we must therefore take heed lest we expect Christ to espouse our unjust and groundless quarrels. Iam afraid there was in Martha’s mind at this time a little of that envy and ill-will which is not unfrequently felt by one person at witnessing the superior piety of another. The more eminent religion of one professor is often felt to be a reproach to those who are lukewarm and worldly, and is therefore really in some oases the cause of ill will and dislike.

We do not find that Mary uttered a syllable in reply to this vehement accusation. I can fancy her lifting up her meek and invoking eye to the Saviocr, with a look which seemed to say, “Oh, my Lord, ] leave the vindication of my love to thee, and to my sister, in thine hands,”’ Gentle spirit! may we learn of thee when we are complained of for well-doing, to seal up our lips in silence, and to expect our righting from above. And how surely will Jesus undertake our cause, and bring forth our righteousness as the light, and our judgment as the noonday. Christ, when he might have retorted with a keen and cutting severity, replied only with a kind but faithful answer, in which he first rebuked her, and then justified and commended her sister. The very repetition of her name is instructive, as showing how much in earnest, and how serious Christ was in this act of reproof: “Martha, Martha;” as if he had said, “Ob, woman, thou art very wrong.” ‘Though the wrong-doing was out of -love to him, he reproved it; for, as many as he loves, he rebukes and chastens. No faults, mistakes, or sins, are more dangerous than those which originate in misdirected love; and none should be more faithfully, yet tenderly pointed out to those who commit them, as there are none which the deceitfulness of the human heart will he so backward to see and confess, none which it will be more ready to excuse and defend. The ill-directed love of friends is sometimes more mischievous to others than the open hostility of foes. Now observe the rebuke of Jesus. “Zhou art careful and troubled about many things — but one thing is needful. Thy mind is full of unnecessary anxiety about those domestic matters, and hurried about by a restless agitation. And what thou discoverest on the present occasion, is too much thy wont on others. There is one thing far more important, and far more needful than all these matters, which, by losing the opportunity I now afford thee of receiving instruction, thou art sadly neglecting. I mean the care and salvation of thy immortal soul.”*

* It has been contended by some, that by the one thing needful, our Lord intended to suggest to Martha, that instead of the abundance she was preparing, the many varieties of food she was about to place upon the table, one dish only was necessary, I will not deny that this might seem to harmonize with the occasion; much less will I deny that it would furrish on the part of our Lord a perpetual, and merited, and justly called-for rebuke to that unnecessary and sinful care, trouble, and expense on the part of professing Christians, to provide costly entertainments for their friends. Good John Newton has some admirable remarks on the subject of entertainments given to ministers. Some of us would be better pleased, whatever kindness our friends design to show us, to be treated less sumptuously, and in a way more conformable to the simplicity of our Christian profession. We would not wish to be considered as avowed epicures, who can not dine well without a variety of delicacies; and if we could suppose that such cost and variety were designed to remind us how much

Having rebuked Martha, our Lord next wind: cates her sister, whom she had so severely and un. meritedly reproached. ‘“Mary hath chosen thai good part which can not be taken from her.” By the good part, we are to understand her sitting at Christ’s feet to hear his words, rather than bustling about in domestic matters. That was the good part for the moment, but I believe our Lord meant to extend his meaning in what he said to each of the sisters, to their habitual character and conduct, and as he intended, when he said to Martha, she was too careful and too much troubled about many things, to describe her usual temperament, so when he said that Mary had chosen the good part, he designed to describe her uniform attention to the high and sacred concern of religion, and to represent her as one who had given herself to the pursuit of eternal salvation. This was matter of choice, and neither of compulsion nor of unintelligent and heartless formality. She voluntarily took up a life of piety; and in doing this, had secured an inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not

better we fare abroad than at home, we might think it rather an insult than a compliment.” The criticism, however, which would make our Lord refer to such things, is obvicusly a false one; for as Mary’s conduct is opposed to that of Martha’s, that which she chose, the good part, must be the same as the one thing needful; and if the one thing needful means one dish, Mary’s good part must also be one dish, which she chose, or provided, rather than the many which her sister was intent upon. But this is trifling with Scripture, rather than explaining it.

away. We reserve, for the conclusion of the ser. mon, some remarks on this description of true piety. How difficult is it to inflict reproof, and not excite anger, and bestow deserved praise without doing mischief by inflating vanity. No such injury was done in this case. The effect, however, both of the censure and of the praise, we have reason to hope, though it is not recorded, was beneficial; for, in a subsequent chapter of this scriptural history, to which we shall presently have occasion to refer, we find the two sisters equally conjoined in affection, and Martha herself considerably improved.

I shall now attempt an analysis and discriminating delineation of the character of these twp sisters. I have already remarked that they were in one, and that the most important feature, alike — they were both pious women — they both loved Christ. And what is religion without love to the Saviour? In making the inquiry after true piety, fix your attention, concentrate your thoughts, terminate your researches, settle yotir conclusions, on this simple, but comprehensive idea — it is a scriptural, supreme, practical, grateful, love to Christ. This Martha, as we have already asserted, undoubtedly possessed, as well as Mary. She, too, notwithstand. ing her failings, could have returned the same answer as did Peter, “Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” Underneath the too great superficial earthliness of that careful and troubled mind, there burned a sacred fire of strong attachment to the Saviour. With this sameness of general character, there were circumstantial differences. Just as we have seen two flowers springing frcm the same root, possessing the same general characteristics, yet one bending more toward the earth than the other, which stands erect, and opens its petals more expansively to the sun. Martha and Mary aie the exemplars of the peculiarities of two distinct varieties of character and religious tendencies. One, the type of a naturally energetic, the other, of a quiescent mind. One exhibiting excellence in acting, the other in repose. One, a life busily devoted to externals, such as is frequently seen in this passing world; the other of calm self&devotion to the divine, as the one thing needful. In the one we see the contemplative, musing and feeding in silence upon holy thoughts, and looking up in rapt meditation into heaven; in the other we see the practical, now lavishing her indefatigable cares upon a brother whom she loves, and now ministering in ordinary life to a Saviour whom she adores; invoking him in the bitterness of grief, and blessing him in the joy of deliverance. In one, too much of the busy, careful, anxious housewife; in the other, perhaps, too much of the contemplative, quiescent devotee. You can not mistake all this; it is patent to every reader. There was much that was good and useful in Martha’s character. She possessed great quickness, alertness, and energy, together with a certain practical ability and good sense, qualifying her both for taking a lead herself, and for giving an impulse to others; so that she was well fitted for going through with any work to be done, and always awake to the common calls and the common cares of the ordinary domestic routine of life, And more than this, she was eminently qualified to work her way, and to help others to do the same, through those emergencies of trouble and of difficulty which not unfrequently occur in the changeful scene of human existence. It is a blessed temperament, my young friends, to have that noble hardihood, and untiring energy, and undaunted boldness of character, which can grapple with difficulty, surmount obstacles, and, instead of being crushed by misfortune, can rise triumphantly above it.

But, then, such a temperament has its dangers, and Martha fell into them. She was impetuous, irritable, intolerant, and somewhat rude. She was angry that others were not as energetic as herself, a common fault with persons of such a turn of mind. She could not make allowance for their difference of disposition. She was, however, an excellent woman after all. “Mary was characterized by more depth of thought, more reflection, more sensibility. She was more easily engrossed by an affecting scene, or any spiritual subject; more alive, at any time, to one single profound impression, and apt to be abstracted from other concerns.”

We see the characteristics of these two sisters brought out in an affecting scene in their after-history, to which I will now advert, and for the particulars of which I refer you to the eleventh and twelfth chapters of the gospel by John. Sickness

an alarming form entered this little family at Bethany, and arrested Lazarus. Jesus was at that time in Bethabara, about thirty rules from Bethany. In the agony of their grief, the sisters dispatched a messenger to Christ, under supposition that he would come and restore their brother to health. Lazarus, it should seem, expired socn after the messenger left. On receiving the information, Christ, who knew all about the matter, and who knew also what he would do, lingered upon the spot two whole days, in order that the miracle he was about to work might, from the circumstances of a longer continuance of death, be the more signal and convincing. At length he set out for Bethany. Observe in this act his usual mercy, to travel on foot thirty miles, to restore a dead man. How delightful is it thus to traee the Saviour in his journeys, justifying the description which is given of him, as one “who ever went about doing good.” Martha was the first to receive information of his approach on this occasion to Bethany, either because, as the mistress of the house, the intelligence was first conveyed to her, or because, from her bustling and active disposition, she was most likely to hear of it. And now, in character with herself, she lost not a moment, but immediately hastened forth to meet her Lord, to render him the offices of courtesy and respect, to inform him of the calamity that had befallen them, to pour out to him the sorrows of her heart, and to receive the expressiors of his sympathy. She is now, as ever, ready to be up and doing. But Mary, either not being informed of the coming of Jesus, or absorbed in a deeper grief, sat still in the house, and waited for the entrance of the Comforter. This intensity of sorrow did not escape the notice of the Jews; hence, when at length she arose at the call of her sister to go forth and meet her Lord, they said, “She goeth unto the grave to weep there.” They said this from a knowledge of her character, for they made no such remark on Martha when she went forth. She might be bent on other errands. Mary could go — only to weep. It is well observed by Dr. Candlish, in his discourse on this subject: “In different circumstances the same natural temperament may be either an advantage or a snare. Martha was never so much occupied in the emotion of one subject or scene, as not to be on the alert and ready for the call to another. This was a disadvantage to her when she was so hurried that she could not withdraw herself to wait upon the ‘Word of Life. It is an advantage to her now, that she can, with comparative ease, shake off her depression, and hasten of her own accord to meet her Lord. The same profound feeling, again, which made Mary the most attentive listener before, makes her.the most helpless sufferer now; and disposes her almost.to nurse her grief, until Jesus, her best comforter, sends specially and emphatically to rouse her. Nor is it.an insignificant circumstance, that it is the ever-active Martha who carries to her more downcast sister the awakening message; so ought sisters in Christ.to minigter to one another, and so may the very difference of their characters make them mutually the more helpful.” “She went her way, and called Mary her sister secretly, saying, The Master is come and calleth for thee.’’*

The two sisters, now deeply affected with a sense of their loss, meet their Lord, and exhibit, in their interview, the same difference of character as pervades their whole history. Martha’s grief is not so overwhelming as to prevent her utterance; she is calm, cool, and collected enough to enter into argument. She can talk of her sorrow, can refer to her loss, can express her faith, and even modestly suggest to Christ, in a delicate and covert petition, the possibility of his restoring her brother. It was different with Mary. In piety, of course, she is equal to her sister, but in composure and serenity she is inferior. Her gentle spirit is paralyzed with grief. All she can do is to cast herself prostrate at the feet of Christ; all she can say, is to sob out, “Lord, if thou hadst been here my brother had not died.” We can not pass over one more characteristic, exquisitely delicate, and true to nature. Jesus, having asked where Lazarus had been laid, is conducted to the grave, which was a cave with a stone upon it, and he gives orders to take away the stone. It was not Mary who offered the objection founded on the commencement of putrefaction; she is silent still in the unutterable

* ‘‘ Scripture Characters,” by Dr. Candlish. An exceedingly interesting and instructive volume.

agoriy of her grief, and the deep reverence of her soul before the Lord. But Martha’s marked officiousness makes her forward, when it might have been more becoming to be dumb, and to stand in awe. Dr. Candlish, with nice and just discrimination, points out the wise and considerate manner, which will be observed by every judicious critical reader of the narrative, in which Christ adapts his behavior toward the two sisters. Martha’s distress was of such a nature that it admitted of discussion and discourse. Jesus accordingly spoke to her, and led her to speak to him, and made to her, as suited her circumstances, some of his sublimest communications touching the resurrection of the body, and the life of the soul. While to Mary, who is rapt in such deep grief, he shows his sympathy in a different way. He is much more profoundly moved. He does not reply to her in words, for her words are few. Sorrow has choked her utterance, and overmastered her soul. But the sight of one so dear to him, lying in such helpless grief at his feet, is an appeal to him far stronger than any supplication. And his own responsive sigh is an answer more comforting than any promise. ‘* When Jesus, therefore, saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping who came with her, he groaned in spirit, and was troubled.” And when he had asked of the bystanders where they had laid him, and received the reply, “‘ Come and see,” — like Joseph, “he could no longer refrain him self,” — “Jesus wept.”

“Oh, most blessed mourner, with waose tears thy Saviour mingles his own! Oh, sympathy most unparalleled! To each of the two stricken and afflicted ones our Lord addressed the very consolation that was most congenial. With Martha, Jesus discoursed and reasoned: with Mary, ‘Jesus wept.’” It is thus He who knoweth our frame adapts the communications of his grace, as our temperament and circumstances most need them.

Before we quit this scene of domestic grief, and pass to another incident in the history of Martha and Mary, shall we not turn aside to see this great sight exhibited in the conduct of Jesus? I know I am giving the history of Martha and Mary, but was not Christ so blended with it as to form a part of it, and to constitute the glory of it? Shall I take you to the grave of Lazarus, point you to the mourning sisters, and omit to notice the weeping Saviour? Shall I pass over that short but wondrous verse, which tells us with such sublime simplicity, Jesus wept? every view of Christ is glorious, whether reigning upon his throne in the glory he had with the Father before the world was; or agonizing in the garden, when he sweat, as it were, great drops of blood; or hanging upon the cross, a great and terrible sacrifice for sin; or rising from the grave with the keys of death and of hell at his girdle; or ascending to his glory amid the retinue and acclamations of angels. Now all these manifestations produce feelings of awe and wonder. But, oh, his weeping at the grave of Lazarus! The

Son of God in tears — not as on the Mount of Olivet, when he signed the death-warrant of Je-usa. lem, and looked onward from the destruction of the guilty city, to the torments of eternity of which its fires and plagues were a da.k type — no, his tears on this occasion were those of human fenderness, the exquisite sympathies of his noble and perfect manhood with the afflictions of those whom he loved. How many lessons are taught us by those tears, Have they not vindicated and defended humanity from the insults and injuries of stoicism, and made chastened sorrow one of its genuine workings? Have they not consecrated sympathy as one of the virtues of humanity? Have they not made tenderness the adornment of greatness? Havethey not raised friendship to the rank of a Christian excellence? Have they not proved that he has not the mind of Christ who knows not how to weep for the woes of our nature? Do they not prove that if tears are woman’s eloquence, they are man’s rhetoric also?

Jesus wept. There were critics, in ancient, times, who, with ruthless fingers, cancelled this verse, as thinking it beneath the dignity of Jesus to weep. Barbarian critics, stoical scholars, ye would have robbed the Scriptures of one of their brightest gems, and despoiled the character of the Saviour of one of its richest beauties.

But now after this, not I hope ungraceful episode, Jet us pass on to one more scene in the history of this happy, holy family. About four morths after the resurrection of Lazarus, a supper was given te our Lord and his disciples; most likely on account of the resurrection of Lazarus, who with his sisters were, perhaps, relations of the host, by a man named Simon, who had been a leper, and had in all probability been healed by Christ. At this supper Lazarus, and Martha, and Mary, were present. Here also we find the separate identity of the character of the two sisters maintained with unbroken continuity and unvarying uniformity. Martha, ever active, ever generously attentive to the comforts of others, ever to be found where energy is required, “served.” She had assisted in the preparation, and now busies herself in waiting upon the guests, and especially upon the most distinguished of them all, her Lord and Master, whom she loved. Not so with Mary; in that assembly all were forgotten by her but one, on whom she gazed long, with the silent rapture of love and devotion, waiting and watching for her opportunity to give him her meditated, practical, and personal expression of adoring gratitude and affection. While he was reclining at table on his couch, according to the custom of the times, instead of sitting upright, as we do, in chairs, she stole behind him, and, unrestrained by the presence of the guests, brought out her alabaster box of spikenard, with which she anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair. She gave him the most costly article of her toilet, and employed for him the most ornamental part of her person. For who that loves Christ will not give him the richest and best of their possessions? Was not this Mary all over! Sensibility, gratitude, affection. Does it not harmonize with the Jistener and mourner whom we have already witnessed? From one of the company — I mean the traitor who sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver — this act of pious affection and liberality drew forth a censure; and, under a hypocritical profession of concern for the poor, he expressed his regret that the precious ointment had not been sold and given to the stock of charity. Ah, how often has a plea of charity served as a cloak for covetousness! True it is, as a general principle, that great expense in external magnificence, even when designed to honor Christ, would most commonly be better employed in feeding and clothing his members; but there are some extraordinary occasions when a sort of profuseness can not be blamed. And every thing which is given to Christ is acceptable to him when, as in this case, it is love that gives. And happy is the person who knows, like Mary, to make that an offering and expression of love to the Saviour, which, in the days of worldliness and folly, was offered at the shrine of vanity. Jesus becomes her vindicator against the cavils of Judas, and pronounced an eulogium which the loftiest monarch on earth might covet to receive. “She hath done what she could.” Of how few can this be said; and yet what lower rule of conduct ought any of us to prescribe for himself than this, Is less than what we ean do for Christ, enough to do for him? Have you ever weighed in seriousness of mind this noble testimony, “Sux HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD.” What can you do fur Christ? What have you done? What ought you to do? What will you do? Be Mary’s Memorial yours. And to what renown did it raise her? ‘ Wherever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.” How literally has this been fulfilled. Wherever the Bible has gone, this — in one hundred and fifty languages — has been published to the world. All nations, and persons of all nations,

shall know of Mary’s alabaster box of ointment eonsecrated to Jesus, and shall venerate her memory for this act of pious zeal. The world is a poor judge in matters relating to God; and God takes delight im honoring those actions which the world blames, through a spirit different from his. Happy are those who are content with the approbation of him who sees the heart. The contradic. tions and groundless censures of men pass away like the clouds that occasionally vail the sun; but the good actions which are the subject of their envy or their calumny, will, like the great luminary, remain forever. Good works invest the name with enduring renown, and embalm the memory with an odor more precious and lasting than the perfume of Mary’s spikenard.

Reference has been made to this incident, and especially to the praise bestowed by our Lord upon Mary, to prove that the contemplative life is more acceptable in the sight of God than the active. It is this mistaken notion which has led to the establishment of conventual institutions by Romanism; a system which is no less opposed to the dictates of revelation than it is to the impulses of nature and the welfare of society; which dves violence to humanity in order to do honor to Christianity; stifles all the instinctive yearnings of the heart, to give better opportunity for the exercise of devotion; and which, as a natural and necessary consequence, has deposited a muddy soil of immorality upon the surface of Christendom, where the fruits of righteousness can not grow, though the weeds of superstition may flourish with a rank Juxuriance. The supposition that a superior sanctity attaches to celibacy is. one of the supports on which the whole Papal system rests, and has been the cause of more abomination in the world than any other single opinion claiming to have a religious sanction. That the history before us will furnish no support to this system, is evident. Mary, neither at the time spoken of was a nun, nor did she ever become such. Hers was a piety that blended with, and sanctified the duties of social life. Whatever was her devotional taste and disposition, it did not drive her from her home, nor cut the tie of her relationships. The design of our Lord’s language is not so much to form comparison between two courses of life, se separate and distinct as not to allow of the mixture of one with the other, as to administer a rebuke to & person who, pursuing one course, had too much neglected the other. Not to prevent Mary from attending at all to temporal matters, but to engage Martha to less anxiety about them, and to a stricter regard to things unseen and eternal.

And now, my young friends, what, in the review of this beautiful little narrative, do I recommend? Which of the two characters do I enjoin you to imitate? I answer, all that was excellent in both, without the imperfections of either. Martha’s household diligence, without her excessive anxiety, united with Mary’s fervent devotion, without her somewhat superabundant sensibility. So far as it could be said of Martha, “She looked well to the ways of her household,” let my female friends imitate her due attention to home duties, her cleverness, her diligence, her dispatch, her generous attention to the comfort of her guests, especially those who represent their Lord. Let them be skilled in all the important functions of good housewifery. Let them, if wives, know how to make home comfortable for their husbands; if mothers, for their children; and if widely connected, for their friends, Hospitality is a virtue which should never be wanting in a female heart. She who will not seek to please her husband’s friends, but receives them with a frown, will soon learn to leave off pleasing him, and make their home unhappy for all parties. But, then, let all this be without carefwlness, and with that graceful and pleasant ease which order, method, punctuality and dispatch will command.

There are various kinds of slavery in the world, and many classes of victims of this cruel bondage, There is, among others, the domestic slave, whose tyrant is her husband, and the scene of her bondage, her home. His parsimony is so niggardly that he will not allow her help enough to do the work of the house, and, therefore, she must unite the character of a servant with that of a wife, a mistress, — and a mother; his selfishness is so engrossir.g and exacting, that his demands for his own personal ease and indulgence are incessant, and leave her no time for the consideration of her own comfort; and, withal, his ¢emper is so bad, that all her assiduities to please are unavailing to give satisfaction and to avert the sallies of his irritability, discontent, and complaint. When such a man declaims against negro slavery, let him begin the work of emancipation at home, by raising the oppressed woman he holds in bondage there, from the condition of a drudge, into the station of a wife. How can she help being careful and troubled about many things?

But, then, there are cases, not a few, in which the slavery is self-imposed. The bondage comes from the wife herself, from which the husband would gladly release her, but she will not let him. Some are slaves to neatness, and make their fidgetting anxiety about this matter a misery to themselves and all around them. Others to fashion, and are always careful and troubled about elegance and refinement. Others to domestic display, parties, and amusements, and are always full of anxiety about objects of time and sense are but as the smallest dust of the balance. It will promote every other lawful and valuable interest on earth. It has been pronounced indispensable by those who are most capable of giving an opinion. od has declared it to be needful, by giving his only-begotten Son to die for it upon the cross, Jesus Christ has declared it to be needful, by enduring all the agonies of the cross to obtain it. Angels have pronounced it needful, by their solicitude for the salvation of men. Apostles, martyrs, reformers, missionaries, and ministers have given their emphatic testimony to its necessity, by their labors, prayers, tears, and blood. Your own judgment, in the cooler moments of reflection, declares, by its enlightened dictates, its necessity; so does your conscience when listening to sermons, or you are suffering affliction; so does your heart, when the world stands revealed before you in its vanity, emptiness, and deceit. It ia needful now in youth, to be your guide; it will be no less so as your comforter amid the vicissitudes of life; your prop under the infirmities of age; your living hope amid the agonies of dying hours; your defense in the awful day of judgment, and your preparation for the felicities of heaven. Must not that which alone can do this, be indispensable, and be, in fact, the one thing needful? Dwell, I beseech you, upon this representation. If religion were as miserable and as melancholy as your mistaken notions of it represent, yet it is needful, It ia not what you may not have, and yet do well with out it — a superfluity, but not a necessary. No. It is needful. It is not what other things can substitute: the privation of which can be made up by others, In the absence of this, you want the most necessary thing in the universe — you must be poor amid abounding wealth. And it is the only thing that ts indispensable. There are many other things which may be desirable, valuable, pleasurable, and may be lawfully pursued, but they are not indispensable. This +s absolutely so to solid happiness here and eternal felicity hereafter. Oh young people, call in your vagrant thoughts, your discursive inquiries, your divided and scattered activities, and concentrate them upon this one thing. Settle it with yourselves, that whatever else you may not have, you must have this. It is well at the outset of life to be informed by an authority that is infallible what is mos¢ necessary for the pilgrim upon earth. Let me entreat you to remember your own interest in it; it is necessary for you, whose eye shall read this page. Do, therefore, inquire — solemnly and seriously inquire — into your own conduct in reference to it. Say to yourselves, “Have I thought serious. ly about it? have I seen the importance of it? has it lain with a due and an abiding weight upon my mind? has it brought me in penitence, prayer, and faith to Christ as a Saviour? am I acting in life as if I considered religion the one thing need. ful? am I willing or striving to make every thing subordinate to it — my interests, my tastes, my p’ asures, my passions?”

And then, how transcendently ezcellen: is true religion. It is the “good part which shall never be taken from us.” Excellent it is, in every view we can take of it, for it is the reception of the first truth, and the enjoyment of the chief gocd. It makes us good, for it makes us like God, and brings good #o us, for it leads us to enjoy God. It was the bliss of Adam, in Paradise, and is the felioity of the spirits made perfect in heaven. It is the beginning of heaven upon earth, and will be the consummation of heaven when we have left the earth. It is far better than knowledge, or wealth, or fame, or pleasure, for it will stand by us when all these things leave us.

Yes, it is “the good part, which can never be taken from us.” Neither force nor fraud can deprive us of this. It is above the vicissitudes of life, and unaffected by the changes of fortune. Oh, it is glorious to think of our possessing something that bids defiance to all the assaults of men or demons! Go where you will, it will go with you. It is as inseparable from you, till you yourself shall abandon it, as your soul is from your body. How much, then, is included in that precious declaration, “The good part which can not be taken from you,” which shall remain with you, in you, for you — when friends have left you — health has left you — fortune has left you — a portion all-sufficient, inalienable, eternal.

Religion is a voluntary thing. ‘Mary hath chosen that good part which can not be taken from her.” It is not the external compulsion of author.

ity, nor the internal compulsion of fear, but the free choice of love. It is not mere blind, unintelligent custom; an unmeaning, heartless round of ceremonies, performed without motive or design. No, it is the free-will offering of the soul to God, who says, “Give me thine heart;” and to whom the soul replies, “‘I give myself to thee.” Where there is no choice, there is no religion. Hence the language of Moses to the children of Israel, “I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live.” So is it with you and me at this moment. There, on the one hand, is religion, with all its duties, and its privileges, its present enjoyments, and its future eternal happiness; this is life — the life of the soul now, and eternal life hereafter, There, on the other hand, is ungodliness, with all] its sins and sorrows here, and its unutterable and eternal miseries hereafter. There are you, so fearfully and wonderfully placed between the two, And here am I — O solemn, responsible, and momentous position! — to urge you by every motive that can appeal to your reason, your heart, your conscience, and even your self-love, to urge you to choose life. You must make your election. You can not evade the choice. One or the other must be yours, Were you to attempt a neutrality, it is impossible. Those that do not choose life, by true religion, are considered by God as choosing death, By what witnesses sre you surrounded iv this crisis of your being? What spectators are looking on upon this eventful scene of your history? Parents are waiting, watching, and praying, for your decision on the side of eternal life. With silent, breathless earnestness, they are agonizing for your soul and her destiny. Ministers are fixing their minds intently upon your situation, and, in yearning anxiety for your welfare, are saying, “O that they may chvose the good part which can never be taken from them!’ Angels, with benevolence, hover over you, ready to commence their benevolent activities, and become as ministering spirits to your salvation. Devils, with malignity, are collecting to rejoice, with such delight as demons can experience, in your election of death. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, are waiting, witnessing, and ready to assist your election. Yes, such value is there attaching to one human soul — with such importance is its decision for the choice or refusal of religion invested, that heaven, earth, and hell, are in some Measure moved by the scene of its being called to choose between life and death, and thus three worlds are interested in its decision. Make, then, your election. Pause, ponder, and pray; it is a choice which eternity will confirm, to your unutterable torment, or to your ineffable felicity. Almighty God, direct their choice!