for your portion only the curse prepared for those who shall have seen Jesus Christ suffering hunger, thirsty and nakedness in his members, and shall not have relieved him. Such is the illusion of the pretexts employed to dispense themselves from the duty of charity: let us now determine the rules to be observed in fulfilling it; and, after having defended this obligation against all the vain excuses of avarice, let us endeavour to save it from even the defects of charity.
Part II. — Not to sound the trumpet in order to attract the public attention in the compassionate offices which we render to our brethren; to observe an order even of justice in charity, and not to prefer the wants of strangers to those with whom we are connected; to appear feeling for the unfortunate, and to know how to soothe the afflicted by our tenderness and affability, as well as by our bounty; in a word, to find out, by our vigilance and attention, the secret of their shame; behold the rules which the present example of our Saviour prescribes to us in the practice of compassion.
First. He went up into a desert and hidden place, says the gospel; he ascended a mountain, where he seated himself with his disciples. His design according to the holy interpreters, was to conceal from the eyes of the neighbouring villages the miracle of multiplying the loaves, and to have no witnesses of his compassion except those who were to reap the fruits of it. First instruction, and first rule; the secrecy of charity.
Yes, my brethren, how many fruits of compassion are every day blasted in the sight of God, by the scorching wind of pride and of vain ostentation! How many charities lost for eternity! How many treasures, which were believed to have been safely lodged in the bosom of the poor, and which shall one day appear corrupted with vermin, and consumed with rust!
In truth, those gross and bare faced hypocrites are rare which openly vaunt to the world the merit of their pious exertions: pride is more cunning, and it never altogether unmasks itself: but, how diminutive is the number of those who, moved with the true zeal of charity, like our Saviour, seek out solitary and private places to bestow, and, at the same time, to conceal their holy gifts! We now see only that ostentatious zeal, which nothing but necessities of eclat can interest, and which piously wishes to make the public acquainted with every gift: they will sometimes it is true, adopt measures to conceal them, but they are not sorry when an indiscretion betrays them; they will not perhaps court public attention, but they are delighted when the public attention surprises them, and they almost consider as lost any liberality which remains concealed.
Alas! our temples and our altars, are they not every where marked with the gifts and with the names of their benefactors; that is to say, are they not the public monuments of our forefathers and of our own vanity? If the invisible eye of the heavenly Father alone was meant to have witnessed them, to what
