Compassion for others in Christian preaching emphasizes empathetic love that moves beyond mere sympathy to active, selfless care reflecting Christ’s heart (Romans 12:15). Illustrations often use images of bearing burdens, offering small gifts, bridging divides, and serving the needy as serving Christ Himself (Matthew 25:40). This compassion calls believers to tangible kindness that heals, comforts, and unites.
True compassion acts for others even when they are not personally connected to us.
A team was running away with a small child, when a mother, seeing its danger, cried in agony, "Stop that wagon, and save the child!" as loud as she could. A heartless man said, "Silly woman, don't fret yourself: it isn't your child." The woman replied, "I know it; but it is somebody's child."
Sharing joy doubles it and sharing sorrow halves it, showing the power of sympathy.
Every man rejoices twice when he has a partner of his joy. A friend shares my sorrow, and makes it but a moiety; but he swells my joy, and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river, and lessen it into rivulets, and make it fordable, and apt to be drunk up by the first revels of the Syrian star; but two torches do not divide, but increase, the flame. And though my tears are the sooner dried up when they run on my friend's cheeks in the furrows of compassion, yet, when my flame hath kindled his lamp, we unite the glories, and make them radiant, like the golden candlesticks that burn before the throne of God, because they shine by numbers, by light, and joy.
Only humans truly sympathize by sharing others’ sorrows and joys, unlike animals.
Though the lower animals have feeling, they have no fellow-feeling. Have not I seen the horse enjoy his feed of corn when his yoke-fellow lay a-lying in the neighboring stall, and never turn an eye of pity on the sufferer? They have strong passions, but no sympathy. It is said that the wounded deer sheds tears; but it belongs to man only to "weep with them that weep," and by sympathy to divide another's sorrows, and double another's joys. When thunder, following the dazzling flash, has burst among our hills, when the horn of the Switzer has rung in his glorious valleys, when the boatman has shouted from the bosom of a rock-girt loch, wonderful were the echoes I have heard them make; but there is no echo so fine or wonderful as that, which, in the sympathy of human hearts, repeats the cry of another's sorrow, and makes me feel his pain almost as if it were my own. They say, that, if a piano is struck in a room where another stands unopened and untouched, who lays his ear to that will hear a string within, as if touched by the hand of a shadowy spirit, sound the same note; but more strange how the strings of one heart vibrate to those of another; how woe wakes woe; how your grief infects me with sadness; how the shadow of a passing funeral and nodding hearse casts a cloud on the mirth of a marriage-party; how sympathy may be so delicate and acute as to become a pain. There is, for example, the well-authenticated case of a lady who could not even hear the description of a severe surgical operation, but she felt all the agonies of the patient, grew paler and paler, and shrieked and fainted under the horrible imagination.
— Dr. Guthrie
Sympathy and grace can transform even lifelong prisoners toward repentance and peace.
Rev. H. C. Trumbull, preaching to the inmates of a prison, said, that the only difference between himself and them was owing to the grace of God. Afterwards, one of the prisoners sent for him, and asked, "Did you mean what you said about sympathizing with us, and that only the help of God made you differ from us?" Being answered in the affirmative, the prisoner said, "I am here for life; but I can stay here more contentedly now that I know I have a brother out in the world." That prisoner behaved so well, that he was pardoned. He died in the last war, thanking God to the last for the preacher's words of sympathy.
Like nerves or musical instruments, human members share in each other’s suffering.
As in the electric shock, every one feels the same shock who holds the same chain; or as in the singular acoustic law by which several instruments have a sympathetic vibration, so that, if one note be struck violently on one, there will be a faint vibration on the other; or like the still more delicate and mysterious tracery of nerves which run throughout the whole human body, the meanest member cannot suffer without all the members feeling with it.
A heart full of sympathy and hope blesses others more than material gifts can.
Happy is the man who has that in his soul which acts upon the dejected as April airs upon violet roots. Gifts from the hand are silver and gold; but the heart gives that which neither silver nor gold can buy. To be full of goodness, full of cheerfulness, full of sympathy, full of helpful hope, causes a man to carry blessings of which he is himself as unconscious as a lamp of its own shining. Such a one moves on human life as stars move on dark seas to bewildered mariners; as the sun wheels, bringing all the seasons with him from the south. Beecher.
A woman's love is marked by deep sympathy, joy in others, and faithful kindness.
There is one in the world who feels for him who is sad a keener pang than he feels for himself; there is one to whom reflected joy is better than that which comes direct: there is one who rejoices in another's honor more than in any which is one's own; there is one on whom another's transcendent excellence sheds no beam but that of delight; there is one who hides another's infirmities more faithfully than one's own; there is one who loses all sense of self in the sentiment of kindness, tenderness, and devotion to another, — that one is WOMAN.
— Washington Irving
A poor widow shares her last food with a stranger, trusting God's provision.
Some years ago, a pious widow in America, who was reduced to great poverty, had just placed the last smoked herring on her table, to supply her hunger and that of her children, when a rap was heard at the door, and a stranger solicited a lodging and a morsel of food, saying, that he had not tasted bread for twenty-four hours. The widow did not hesitate, but offered a share to the stranger, saying, "We shall not be forsaken, or suffer deeper for an act of charity."
The traveller drew near to the table; but when he saw the scanty fare, filled with astonishment, he said, "And is this all your store? And do you offer a share to one you do not know? Then I never saw charity before! But, madam, do you not wrong your children, by giving a part of your last morsel to a stranger?" "Ah," said the widow, weeping, "I have a boy, a darling son, somewhere on the face of the wide world, unless Heaven has taken him away; and I only act towards you as I would that others should act towards him. God, who sent manna from heaven, can provide for us as he did for Israel; and how should I this night offend him, if my son should be a wanderer, destitute as you, and he should have provided for him a home, even as poor as this, were I to turn you unrelieved away!"
The widow stopped, and the stranger, springing from his seat, clasped her in his arms; "God, indeed, has provided just such a home for your wandering son, and has given him wealth to reward the goodness of his benefactress. My mother! O my mother!"
It was indeed her long lost son, returned from India. He had chosen this way to surprise his family, and certainly not very wisely; but never was surprise more complete, or more joyful. He was able to make the family comfortable, which he immediately did; the mother living for some years longer, in the enjoyment of plenty.
# 9. Affection, Filial—Rewarded.
A kind boy helps an old woman, showing reverence and kindness learned in Sunday school.
A gentleman was once passing through a village, and happened to see a poor, feeble old woman let her stick fall, and stand a moment in perplexity, not knowing whether she dared to stoop to pick it up or attempt to reach her home without it. Just by the spot where the accident happened, a group of boys were playing at marbles; some of them took no notice, others rudely marked the poor old woman's distress; but one kind-hearted lad threw down his marbles, ran to her assistance, and helped her into her house. She thanked him, and said, "God Almighty's blessing be upon you, for your kindness to a poor old woman!" The gentleman saw and heard the whole, and made inquiry after the lad, in whom he felt deeply interested. He found that he was already in the Sunday school, and, in all probability, had there learnt the Scriptures, that inculcate reverence to the aged. From that time he had him instructed in writing and accounts at an evening school; when old enough, he assisted in apprenticing him, and in course of time had the satisfaction of seeing him a respectable and flourishing tradesman.
A princess honors an old man, demonstrating respect and kindness to the aged.
A Russian princess of great beauty, in company with her father, and a young French marquis, visited a celebrated Swiss doctor of the eighteenth century, Michael Scuppack; when the marquis began to pass one of his jokes upon the long white beard of one of the doctor's neighbors who was present. He offered to bet twelve louis d'ors that no lady present would dare to kiss the dirty old fellow! The Russian princess ordered her attendant to bring a plate, and deposited twelve louis d'ors, and sent it to the marquis, who was too polite to decline his stake.
The fair Russian then approached the peasant, saying, "Permit me, venerable father, to salute you after the manner of my country," and embracing, gave him a kiss. She then presented him the gold which was on the plate, saying, "Take this as a remembrance of me, and as a sign that the Russian girls think it their duty to honor old age."
# VOLENT SOCIETIES.
acter, and especially on its lavish expenditure; noticing, in a marked way, the needless and extravagant travelling expenses of its vaunted secretaries, as well as their enormous salaries. No one, from Mr. Hughes's countenance and manner, could have conjectured that he was a party concerned. "But what," he mildly expostulated, "would be your conclusion, were you informed that their services were gratuitous; and that, with a view of curtailing as much as possible the expense of travelling, they usually, even in very inclement seasons, fix on the outside, as," he added, "one of them is now doing before your eyes?" Need it be added, that both the fact and the tone in which it was announced, with the friendly conversation that ensued, converted an enemy into a friend?
True happiness comes from remembering the benefits and kindnesses given to others.
When Cato was drawing near the close of his life, he declared to his friends, that the greatest comfort of his old age, and that which gave him the highest satisfaction, was the pleasing remembrance of the many benefits and friendly offices he had done to others. To see them easy and happy by his means made him truly so.
Julius Caesar found joy in hearing requests for help from friends and those in need.
EXAMPLE OF JULIUS CÆSAR.—It was a common saying of Julius Cæsar, that no music was so charming to his ear as the requests of his friends and the supplications of those in want of his assistance.
Giving all one has to help another brings great personal joy and pleasure.
One of Bishop Burnet's parishioners, being in great distress, applied to him for assistance. The prelate requested to know what would serve him, and reinstate him in his trade. The man named the sum, and Burnet told the servant to give it to him. "Sir," said the servant, "it is all that we have in the house." "Well, give it to this poor man; you do not know the pleasure there is in making a man glad."
Serving others is a continual privilege, not waiting for one’s own turn.
During the days of the commonwealth, the Rev. John Howe, one of Cromwell's chaplains, was frequently applied to by men of all parties for protection, nor did he refuse his influence to any on account of difference in religious opinions. One day, the Protector said to him, "Mr. Howe, you have asked favors for every body besides yourself; pray, when does your turn come?" He replied, "My turn, my Lord Protector, is always come when I can serve another."
Persistent compassion and effort can bring life and joy even in hopeless situations.
Alexander, the late Emperor of Russia, in one of his journeys, came to a spot where they had just dragged out of the water a peasant, who appeared lifeless. He instantly alighted, had the man laid on the side of the bank, and immediately proceeded to strip him, and to rub his temples, wrists, &c. Dr. Wyllie, his majesty's physician, attempted to bleed the patient, but in vain; and after three hours' fruitless attempts to recover him, the doctor declared that it was useless to proceed any farther. The emperor entreated Dr. Wyllie to persevere, and make another attempt to bleed him. The doctor, though he had not the slightest hope of success, proceeded to obey the injunctions of his majesty, who, with some of his attendants, made a last effort at rubbing. At length the emperor had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing the blood make its appearance, while the poor peasant uttered a feeble groan. His majesty, in a transport of joy, exclaimed that this was the brightest day of his life, while tears stole involuntarily down his cheek. Their exertions were now redoubled: the emperor tore his handkerchief, and bound the arm of the patient, nor did he leave him till he was quite recovered.
Faithful compassion leads to self-sacrifice and spiritual witness amid suffering.
The typhus fever, in its alarming and contagious form, spread in a certain village. The neighborhood was in consternation, and none but the medical men were willing to venture near the patients. Who then could nurse them? There was one poor woman who was very often ridiculed for her strict religious notions, and for being so very particular in her ways, and for walking in all weathers to attend Divine worship, at a considerable distance. This poor woman alone attended the sufferers, leaving her own children in the care of her eldest son. She nursed and soothed the sick, attended their dying beds, and performed the last decent offices for those who expired. At this time she desired to attend the Lord's table, and her minister heard from her this simple statement, made with much modesty. She wished to be informed whether the principle on which she acted was quite right, as many had blamed her, and she added, "Sir, I cannot be happy to do otherwise; besides, I can speak to them a little about their souls." Her own views and feelings were those of a sinner humbled before the cross, subdued to the world, and yielding herself and all she loved into the hands of a gracious Savior.
She persevered in her work and labor of love; she caught the infection, suffered severely, and but just escaped with her life: the effects of the disease remained, and her once comely person was much altered. Yet with joy of heart she spoke to her pastor afterwards of her sufferings, and her only sorrow appeared to arise from the sad thought that some of her patients had expired without any apparent change of heart! God mercifully preserved her husband and all her family from the infection. This humble creature did not display these things as a proof that she had faith, but even those who blamed her were constrained to notice its fruits. The grace of God evidently spread its influence in that village, especially among the young; and even those who despised her holy life and conversation, which they called her peculiarities, were constrained to say that she had shown her faith by her works.
Kindness and faithfulness to others can bring unexpected protection and deliverance.
Dr. Dwight, in his travels in New England, states, that soon after the county of Litchfield began to be settled by the English, a strange Indian arrived at an inn, and asked the hostess, as the evening was advancing, to provide him some refreshment; at the same time observing, that from failure in hunting he had nothing to pay, but promising compensation whenever he succeeded.
The plea was, however, in vain: the hostess loaded him with opprobrious epithets, and declared that it was not to throw away her earnings on such creatures as himself, that she worked so hard. But as the Indian was about to retire, with a countenance expressive of severe suffering, a man who sat by directed the hostess to supply his wants, and promised her full remuneration.
As soon as the Indian had finished his supper, he thanked his benefactor, assured him that he should remember his kindness, and engaged that it should be faithfully recompensed whenever it was in his power. The friend of the Indian had occasion, some years after, to go into the wilderness between Litchfield and Albany, where he was taken prisoner by an Indian scout, and carried to Canada. On his arrival at the principal settlement of the tribe, it was proposed by some of the captors that he should be put to death; but, during the consultation, an old woman demanded that he should be given up to her, that she might adopt him for a son who had been lost in the war. Accordingly he was given up to her, and he passed the succeeding winter in her family, amidst the usual circumstances of savage hospitality.
While, in the course of the following summer, he was at work alone in the forest, an unknown Indian came and asked him to go to a place he pointed out, on a given day; and to this he agreed, though not without some apprehension that mischief was contemplated. His fears increased, his promise was broken. The same person repeated his visit, and after excusing himself in the best way he could, he made another engagement, and kept his word. On reaching the appointed spot, he found the Indian provided with ammunition, two muskets, and two knapsacks; he was ordered to take one of each, and he followed his conductor, under the persuasion that, had he intended him injury he might have despatched him at once. In the day-time they shot the game that came in their way, and at night they slept by the fire they had kindled; but the silence of the Indian, as to the object of their expedition, was mysterious and profound. After many days had thus passed, they came one morning to the top of an eminence, from whence they observed a number of houses rising in the midst of a cultivated country. The Indian asked his companion if he knew the ground, and he eagerly said, "It is Litchfield." His guide then recalled the scene at the inn some years before, and bidding him farewell, exclaimed, "I am that Indian! Now I pray you go home."
A father unknowingly saves his own daughter's life in a moment of compassion.
As the Rev. Joseph Davis, an excellent Baptist minister in London, was walking along one of the crowded streets of that city, his attention was arrested by the circumstance that a carriage with several horses was just about to pass over a little girl, who was slowly crossing the road. He strongly felt the danger of the child, and forgetting his own, he ran, snatched her up in his arms, and hastened with her to the side path, when the thought struck him—how would the parents of this dear child have felt, had she been killed!—At this moment he looked in the face of the little girl, which had been concealed from his view by her bonnet, and imagine, if you can, what his feelings were when he discovered that it was his daughter!
An Indian showed kindness to a hostile Englishman, exemplifying mercy and hospitality.
A short time before the war between the English and the Indians in Pennsylvania broke out, an English gentleman, who lived on the borders of the province, was standing one evening at his door, when an Indian came and desired a little food. He answered, he had none for him; he then asked for a little beer, and received the same answer. Not yet discouraged, he begged for a little water; but the gentleman only answered, "Get ye gone for an Indian dog." The Indian fixed his eye for a little time on the Englishman, and then went away.
Some time after, this gentleman, who was fond of shooting, pursued his game till he was lost in the woods. After wandering a while, he saw an Indian hut, and went to it to inquire his way to some plantation. The Indian said, "It is a great way off, and the sun is near going down; you cannot reach it to-night, and if you stay in the woods the wolves will eat you up; but if you have a mind to lodge with me, you may." The gentleman gladly accepted the invitation, and went in. The Indian boiled a little venison for him, gave him some rum and water, and then spread some deer skins for him to lie upon; having done this, himself and another Indian went and lay at the other side of the hut.
He called the gentleman in the morning, telling him that the sun was up, and that he had a great way to go to the plantation, but that he would show him the way. Taking their guns, the two Indians went forward, and he followed. When they had gone several miles, the Indian told him he was within two miles of the plantation he wanted: he then stepped before him, and said, "Do you know me?" In great confusion, the gentleman answered, "I have seen you." The Indian replied, "Yes, you have seen me at your own door; and I will give you a piece of advice: when a poor Indian, that is hungry, and dry, and faint, again asks you for a little meat, or drink, do not bid him get him gone for an Indian dog." So he turned and went away.
Which of these two was to be commended, or which acted most agreeably to the Saivor's golden rule in Matt. vii. 12?
A stranger heroically saves a child from being trampled by horses, showing selfless compassion.
An English gentleman relates the following affecting fact:
I was once going in my gig up the hill in the village of Frankford, near Philadelphia, when a little girl, about two years old, who had travelled away from a small house, was lying basking in the sun in the middle of the road. About two hundred yards before I got to the child, the teams, five big horses in each, of three wagons, the drivers of which had stopped to drink at a tavern at the brow of the hill, started off, and came nearly abreast, galloping down the road. I got my gig off the road as speedily as I could, but expected to see the poor child crushed to pieces. A young man, a journeyman carpenter, who was shingling the shed by the roadside, seeing the child, and aware of the danger, though a stranger to the parents, jumped from the top of the shed, ran into the road, and snatched up the child when scarcely an inch before the hoof of the leading horse. The horse's leg knocked him down, but he, catching the child by its clothes, flung it out of the way of the other horses, and saved himself by rolling back with surprising agility. The mother of the child, who had apparently been washing, seeing teams coming, and knowing the situation of the child, rushed out, and catching it up just as the carpenter had flung it back, hugged it in her arms, and uttered a shriek such as I never heard before. Then she dropped down as if entirely dead. By the application of the usual means, she was restored, however, in a little while; and I, being about to depart, asked the carpenter if he was a married man, and whether he was a relation of the parents of the child. He said he was neither. "Well then," said I, "you merit the gratitude of every father and mother in the world; and I will show you mine by giving you what I have," pulling out the nine or ten dollars which I had in my pocket. "No, I thank you, sir," said he; "I have only done what it was my duty to do."
A mule-driver carries a heavy load himself and is encouraged to persevere, illustrating kindness and endurance.
A poor Macedonian sol dier was one day leading before Alexander a mule laden with gold for the king's use; the beast being so tired that he was not able either to go or sustain the load, the mule-driver took it off, and carried it himself with great difficulty a considerable way. Alexander seeing him just sinking under the burthen, and about to throw it on the ground, cried out, "Friend, do not be weary yet; try and carry it quite through to thy tent, for it is all thy own."
The Archduke prioritizes saving wounded soldiers over artillery, showing valuing human life above possessions.
When the Archduke Charles was on his way from Bohemia, to take the command of his army, as he drew near the scene of action, he met a number of wounded men abandoned by their comrades on the road, for want of horses to draw the carriages in their retreat. The prince immediately ordered the horses to be taken from several pieces of cannon that were already retreating, saying that these brave men were better worth saving than a few cannon. When General Moreau, into whose hands the cannon of course fell, heard of this benevolent trait, he ordered them to be restored to the Austrian army, observing that he would take no cannon that were abandoned from such humane motives.
Gentle kindness can soften even the hardest hearts and resolve conflict.
Dr. P—, a Quaker of Philadelphia, was very kind to the poor. In times of sickness, produced by whatever cause, he was always ready and willing to assist them. His benevolence in such cases extended farther than his gratuitous services as a physician. Of course he was beloved.
The streets were frequently somewhat crowded with building materials so much so as often, at particular places to prevent two vehicles from passing each other, if the driver of either is disposed to be obstinate.
As the doctor was one day proceeding to visit a patient, his progress was impeded by a dray—the driver of which had stopped his horses in one of those narrow passages. After waiting several minutes, the doctor requested the drayman to allow him to pass. The latter, who had heard of, but did not know the former, poured forth a volley of the vilest abuse upon the "straight coat," and swore he would not move till he thought proper.
"Well, friend," said the doctor, "all I have to observe is this: if thee should get sick, or if thy family should ever be in distress, send for Dr. P., and he will do all he can to assist thee." The heart of the drayman was subdued by the kindness of the man he had abused. He was ashamed of his conduct—stammered an apology, and removed the obstruction as speedily as possible.
How true it is, that "a soft tongue breaketh the bone." If the doctor had cursed the drayman till midnight, he would have received nothing but cursing and blows in return. This may be thought a small matter, but it furnishes a useful lesson.
Kindness can protect and disarm even those bent on harm.
A gentleman in Philadelphia, who constantly felt and looked kindly, going out one morning, met a wretched looking man walking hastily with a musket in his hand.
"Good morning, sir," said the gentleman with a smile.
"Good morning," muttered the other; and passed on. Presently the gentleman heard the report of a musket, and soon the cry of murder. It turned out that the man with the musket was insane, and had run out with a musket to kill the first man he should meet, that he might be hanged himself, and thus get rid of this world; but he was asked why he did not kill the first gentleman. "Why he looked so good natured," said he, "that I thought I would not shoot him."
Helping others without waiting for a request shows true neighborly kindness.
Two neighbors were getting hay from adjoining lots of marsh land. One had the misfortune to mire his team and load so as to require aid from the other. He called to him for assistance with his oxen and men. But his neighbor felt churlish, and loading him with reproaches for his imprudent management, told him to help himself at his leisure. With considerable difficulty he extricated his load from the mire and pursued his business. A day or two after, his churlish neighbor met with a similar mishap. Whereupon the other, without waiting for a request, volun-
# 243. LABOR,
A child's simple plea moves a soldier to spare his life, showing mercy over violence.
At the close of a battle, a soldier of the victorious army, more ferocious and reckless from the bloody work of the day, chanced to find a small boy on the field, and, very much from the habit of assailing whatever came in his way, lifted his sword to cleave him down, when the little fellow, looking up in his face, exclaimed, "O sir, don't kill ME, I'm so little." That simple appeal went to the warrior's heart; and returning his sword into its scabbard, he galloped away without harming the child. Some men there possibly may be who would have killed him; but scarce one man in a million would so outrage his own nature.
A new slave spares a friend's punishment, illustrating compassion amid cruelty and suffering.
A planter of the West Indies, who was owner of a considerable number of slaves, treated them with the utmost cruelty, whipping and torturing them for the slightest fault. One of the unfortunate victims of his cruelty, thinking any change preferable to slavery under such a barbarian, attempted to make his escape among the mountain Indians; but, unfortunately, was taken, and brought back to his master. Poor Arthur (so he was called) was immediately ordered to receive three hundred lashes, when stripped; which were to be given him by his fellow slaves, among whom happened to be a new negro, just brought from Africa, and who had been purchased by the planter the day before. This slave, the moment he saw the unhappy wretch destined to the lashes, flew to his arms, and embraced him with the greatest tenderness; the other returned his transports, and nothing could be more moving than their mutual bemoaning each other's misfortunes. Their master was soon given to understand that they were countrymen and intimate friends; and that Arthur had formerly, in a battle with a neighboring nation, saved his friend's life at the extreme hazard of his own. The new negro, at the same time, threw himself at the planter's feet with tears, beseeching him, in the most moving manner, to spare his friend, or, at least, to suffer him to undergo the punishment in his room, protesting he would rather die ten thousand deaths, than lift his hand against him. But the wretch, looking on this as an affront to the absolute power he pretended over him, ordered Arthur to be immediately tied to a tree, and his friend to give him the lashes; telling him, too, that for every lash not well laid on, he should himself receive a score. The new negro, amazed at a barbarity so unbecoming a human creature, with a generous disdain refused to obey him, at the same time upbraiding him with his cruelty; upon which the planter, turning all his rage on him, ordered him to be immediately stripped, and commanded Arthur, to whom he promised forgiveness, to give his countryman the lashes he had been destined to receive himself. This proposal too was received with scorn, each protesting he would rather suffer the most dreadful torture than injure his friend. This generous conflict, which must have raised the strongest feelings in a breast susceptible of pity, did but the more inflame the monster, who now determined they should both be made examples of; and to satiate his revenge, was resolved to whip them himself. He was just preparing to begin with Arthur, when the new negro drew a knife from his pocket, stabbed the planter to the heart, and the following instant struck it to his own.
West India slavery was fruitful in such atrocities. And why produce such results? Because it placed arbitrary power in the master's hand, making him a despot on the small scale.
A former soldier gave his pension to help his Sunday school teacher in need.
At the annual meeting of the Sunday School Union, in 1822, the Rev. George Marsden stated, that as a gentleman, who by the providence of God had become reduced in his circumstances, was walking along the street, he was met by an old soldier, who immediately recognized him, and mentioned the pleasure he felt in having been one of his Sabbath scholars. The soldier had heard of the circumstances which had reduced his former teacher to distress, and thus addressed him: "You were my teacher; I have a pension from Government; I can work a little, and will willingly give my pension for your relief."
Parental love often overlooks others' interests to forgive and endure a child's faults.
How bad a child may be to the best of fathers and how good a father may be to the worst of children. How a father sometimes, out of love for a son, will overlook the best interests of those about him
Joseph helped others in trouble by lifting their burdens through God's help.
Joseph a blessing to his companions in tribulation by showing concern in their troubles, and doing his best by God's help to lift their burdens
The old man's tears reveal his pain from overhearing unkind thoughts against him.
A poor and almost friendless old man had been making his home with a young couple. The times were hard and their limited resources made him a burden. One night they sat up late and talked over the matter as to what should be done with him. Before retiring, they concluded to look into the old man’s room. But alas! the spirit had fled, and the tears that had flowed from his eyes, and now stood upon his cold cheeks, seemed to prove that he had overheard their conversation.
Loving souls intensely enables skillful ministry even to discouraged or hypocritical believers.
Mr. Spurgeon tells a story of an aged Christian woman who had loved and served the Lord for fifty years or more. Somehow, partly owing, no doubt, to physical causes, she fell into a state of melancholy and deep distress, from which no one could rouse her. He called several times to see her, and endeavoured to cheer her up, but generally when he left she was worse than before. The next time he called upon her he did not say anything to her about Christ or religion. She soon introduced those subjects herself. He remarked that he was not going to talk to her about such holy things, as she did not know anything about them, for she was not a believer in Christ, and had been, no doubt, a hypocrite for many years. She could not stand that, and asserted, in self-defence, that the Lord above knew her better than he did, and He was her witness that she did love the Lord Jesus Christ. She hardly forgave herself afterwards for admitting so much in her favour, but she could never talk to him so despairingly as before. "True lovers of men's souls," Mr. Spurgeon adds, "must learn the art of dealing with them, when the Holy Spirit will make them expert soul-surgeons for Jesus. It is not because a man has more abilities, nor altogether because he has more grace, but the Lord makes him to love the souls of men intensely, and this imparts a secret skill, since, for the most part, the way to get sinners to Christ is to love them to Christ."
Successful soul-winners have large hearts full of compassion and humanity.
"I have noticed," says Mr. Spurgeon, "that men succeed in the ministry, and win souls for Christ, in proportion as they are men with large hearts. I think, for instance, of Dr. Brock; there was a mass of a man, one who had bowels of compassion; and what is the good of a minister who has not? I do not hold up the accumulation of flesh as an object worthy of your attainment, but I do say that you must have big hearts if you are to win men to Jesus; you must be Greathearts if you are to lead many pilgrims to the Celestial City. "I have seen some very lean men," Mr. Spurgeon added, "who said they were perfectly holy, and I could almost believe that they could not sin, for there did not appear to be anything in them that was capable of sinning. They were like old bits of leather. I met one of these 'perfect' brethren once, and he was just like a piece of sea-weed; there was no humanity in him. I like to see a trace of humanity somewhere or other about a man, and people in general like it, too; they get on better with a man who has some human nature in him. Human nature, in some aspects, is an awful thing, but when the Lord Jesus Christ took it, and joined His own Divine nature to it, He made a grand thing of it; and human nature is a grand thing when united to the Lord Jesus Christ." 87. The Prime Minister of England A distinguished American minister, speaking one day at the Tabernacle, related a story of an examination at one of the schools. Among other questions he asked was, "Who is the Prime Minister of Great Britain?" A boy held up his hand and replied, "Rev. C. H. Spurgeon, sir." He had no doubt heard of Gladstone, Beaconsfield, and Salisbury, political Prime Ministers, but he looked at the matter in a higher light—that of Gospel Prime Ministers. The boy was right.
True charity requires personal action, not merely delegating responsibility to others.
This is the age of proxy. People are not charitable, but they beg a guinea from somebody else to be charitable with. It is said that charity nowadays means that A finds B to be in distress, and, therefore, asks C to help him. Let us not in this fashion shirk our work. Go and do your own work, each man bearing his own burden, and not trying to pile a double load on other men's shoulders. Brethren, from morn till night sow beside all waters with unstinting hand.
True consolation comes from empathetic companionship in suffering and shared grief.
a person with you who feels just as you feel; who, when you are very stupid, seems to be stupid too; who frets as you fret, and groans in your groanings. "Mother," said a little girl once, "I cannot make it out; Mrs. Smith says I do her so much good. Poor Mrs. Smith has lost her husband, mother, and she is very sad. She sits and cries, and I get up and lay my cheek on her cheek, and I cry and say that I love her, and then she says that she loves me and that I comfort her.' Just so, that is the truest form of consolation, is it not? "Weep with them that weep." That is how God, my God, will hear me, feeling with me, sympathizing with me.
Christians must show royal generosity by sharing others' sorrows, reflecting Christ's saving love.
Christian's duty. Consider what the Christian is, and you will say that if every other man were selfish, he should be disinterested; if there were nowhere else a heart which had sympathy for the needy, there should be one found in every Christian breast. The Christian is a "king"; it becomes not a king to be meanly caring for himself. Was Alexander ever more royal than when, while his troops were suffering from thirst, he put aside a bowl full of the precious liquid, which a soldier offered him, and said it was not fitting for a king to drink while his subjects were thirsty; he had rather share their sorrow with them? O you, whom God has made kings and princes, reign royally over your own selfishness and act with the honorable liberality which becomes the seed royal of the universe. You are sent into the world to be saviors of others; but how shall you be so if you care only for yourselves? It is yours to be lights; and does not a light consume itself while it scatters its rays into the thick darkness? Is it not your office and privilege to have it said of you, as of your Master — "He saved others; himself he cannot save"?
Birds feeding a disabled comrade illustrate selfless care within a community.
See VICARIOUSNESS.
ALTRUISM AMONG BIRDS
An old gentleman in New England told me of a case he once observed. Noticing a little flock of chewinks or towhee buntings who came about the house for food that was thrown out, he saw that one was larger than the others and that they fed him. To satisfy his curiosity, he threw a stone with such accuracy that his victim fell, and on picking him up he was surprized to see that the bird’s mandibles were crossed so that he could not possibly feed himself. The inference was obvious; his comrades had fed him, and so well that he had grown bigger than any of them.--OLIVE THORNE MILLER, “The Bird Our Brother.”
A wasp helping a wounded companion shows natural examples of selfless aid.
A gentleman, while reading the newspaper, feeling bothered by the buzzing of a wasp about his head, beat it down. It fell through the open window and lay on the sill as if dead. A few seconds afterward, to his great surprize, a large wasp flew on to the window-sill, and after buzzing around his wounded brother for a few minutes, began to lick him all over. The sick wasp seemed to revive under this treatment, and his friend then gently dragged him to the edge, grasped him round the body and flew away with him. It was plain that the stranger, finding a wounded comrade, gave him “first aid,” as well as he could, and then bore him away home. This is one of many cases in which the law of altruism is traceable in the world of living things below man. How much more should intelligent man exercise this spirit of helpfulness in the rescue of his fallen brother.
Championing and helping disadvantaged boys reflects Christlike compassion and character in service.
Pages, messenger boys, newsboys and bootblacks have a champion in a member of Congress who never lets pass an opportunity to help them along. If a messenger boy should happen to drop into the office of Representative William J. Cary, of Milwaukee, in the House office building, he would get as much consideration as a member of the United States Senate.
Mr. Cary is the friend of the little chaps because he knows from experience what it means to get out and hustle for a living when some of your pals are off playing baseball in the back lots, and whenever he gets a chance to give a youngster a boost he boosts hard.
Mr. Cary was left an orphan when he was thirteen years old, together with five younger brothers and sisters who were placed in an orphan asylum.
In chasing around Milwaukee as a messenger boy he became acquainted with the political leaders of the city and by the time he was old enough to vote he was a full-fledged politician. Machine methods do not appeal to him and he would rather mix up in a fight with the Cannon organization than to take a cruise to Europe.--Boston _Journal_.
Showing sympathy and grace can lighten others' burdens and reveal brotherhood.
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A man preaching to the inmates of a prison made the remark that the only difference between himself and them was owing to the grace of God. Afterward one of the prisoners approached him and asked: “Did you mean what you said about sympathizing with us, and that only the help of God made you differ from us?” Being answered in the affirmative, the prisoner said: “I am here for life, but I can stay here more contentedly now that I know I have a brother out in the world.”
How we might lighten the burden of others if we had and showed more feeling for them, if we followed more closely in the footsteps of our blessed Lord.
— ST. CLAIR HESTER
Helping others in need quietly reflects Christlike compassion and love.
On a railway train running on a branch road from a great city to the suburb, a little incident in complete contrast was noted by eyes quick to see what happened on the road. A woman, evidently a foreigner and very poor, was encumbered by a baby in her arms, while two older children tugged at her skirt. In addition she had several nondescript bundles. When the brakeman announced her station she was bewildered and greatly impeded in her efforts to leave the car. She was not quite sure of the place, and she could not easily manage the babies and the bundles.
A tall young fellow, conspicuously well drest, had been sitting near, apparently lost in a book which he was studying. He tossed the book aside, seized the heavy bundles and gave a hand to one little brown-faced child, assisted the whole party out of the car, first ascertaining that they were at the right point of their journey, lifted his hat to the mother as if she had been his own, and resumed his place and book as if he had done nothing uncommon. This incident was chronicled in the memory of one whom it made happier for a whole long day. (Text.)--_Herald and Presbyter._
Caste customs hinder compassion and fellowship, showing cultural barriers to Christian love.
Dr. Pauline Root, of India, gives this example of the tenacity of the Hindus to their rules of caste:
The Brahman custom which prescribes for every man and woman the ceremonial bath every day also prescribes that during any illness the bath shall be omitted. A woman who is ill is banished to a little room and left to take care of herself unless a hired person is sent to be her nurse. I had under my care a young girl of high caste who was ill with an illness which had already carried off the mother and two sisters. The father was ready to make almost any concessions to me if I would only come and save his daughter’s life. I insisted that she be brought out into one of the main rooms of the home, and that she be given a cot to sleep upon. When she grew better she wanted me with her most of the time to sit beside her and hold her hand. I really thought she was succumbing before love. Finally, I told her that she was convalescent enough to have her ceremonial bath. The next morning her father met me with a munificent gift. I saw the girl arrayed in her beautiful dresses, but a great distance had been put between us, and when I held out my hand she refused it, saying, “Please don’t touch me; I have taken my bath.”
A wounded mother dove dies protecting her young, showing innocent suffering.
The following is reported by the _Daily Sentinel_, of Fairmount, Minnesota:
A mother dove had been the target of some small boy. The bullet had passed through her breast, and had left her only strength enough to flutter homeward and reach the nest, where a half-grown fledgling awaited her coming.
Dying, she had snuggled up against her little one, her life-blood pulsing out over her own white breast and against that of her young. And there, with eyes staring wide, she breathed her last, and the fledgling starved, and then froze. The two were found with their heads prest together as in a last embrace.
The owner of the dove-house brought them down-town just as they rested in the nest, and the sight and the suffering of which it spoke were enough to melt the hardest heart.
The boy with the rifle may cause a like tragedy again, and many times.
True generosity is shown by giving to those in need, even when one is poor oneself.
A man walked south on Main Street one afternoon recently. He had no overcoat and he shivered as the north wind struck him. Near the junction he stopped and picked something up. It was a bright silver dime.
“Wasn’t I lucky,” he said to a man who had seen the episode, who related the story to a reporter on the Kansas City _Times_. “I haven’t a cent and have had nothing to eat since yesterday noon. Now for the nearest lunch-wagon.”
A little girl came along at that moment. She, too, was poorly drest.
“I’ve lost a dime,” she half sobbed, as she inspected the pavement.
“I guess I’ve got what you were looking for,” said the man, as he handed the dime to the child, who danced away with only a “Thank you, mister.”
“Just my luck,” said the man with the stomach.
True fraternity is seeing through another’s eyes and living by mutual generosity.
When you describe to a blind man what strikes you on the very instant, you really give him the illusion of light. He sees through your eyes. There is in his soul both light and color. The green swell of the forest, the yellow waves of the harvests, that stream that unrolls yonder, across the fields, like a ribbon of silver; that river whose waters are transmuted into liquid gold in the brazier of the setting sun, all this shines before his inward eye. And yet it is not this that most delights the blind man. What moves him, transports him, not only if he is your father, your son, your friend, but even a simple traveling companion, is that he sees through you; that, for an hour, you realize the holy law that man owes himself to man, and that he lives, above all, by your bounty and fraternal exchange.--CHARLES WAGNER, “The Gospel of Life.”
Heathenism often lacks pity for human suffering, showing misplaced compassion toward animals.
There is an essential difference between the attitude of heathenism and of Christianity toward human suffering. Sir Frederick Lely said:
The ordinary native of India who has been untouched by the Light is utterly devoid of pity. In West India a man will be taxed for killing a dog, but not for killing a man. During famine times it is an every-day sight to see men feeding monkeys with unleavened cakes and refusing to give a crust to their fellow men who are lying within a few yards of them dying with hunger. The great merchants and moneyed men of India spent thousands upon food for decrepid and worthless animals, but left it to the British Government to feed the men and women. In a famine hospital, Sir Frederick saw a little lad whose flesh was torn in many places. That morning an agent of one of the merchant gilds had visited his village with a supply of food for the village pariah dogs. The poor boy asked for some for himself but was refused, and in desperation he ran in among the dogs to try and get a piece, and they turned upon him and bit him. A Bunnia Hindu, in Ankleshwer, has recently given 15,000 rupees to found an animal hospital. The enclosure is to be in the midst of the town--a commodious structure, where worn-out cattle and worthless animals will be brought as a matter of religion. Around the outside of these same walls will walk crippled, diseased, poor and hungry men and women and children, but their pleading voices will fall on deaf ears.
Mutual help builds strength and beauty, illustrating the power of unity and service.
“Help one another,” the snowflakes said, As they settled down in their fleecy bed, “One of us here would never be felt, One of us here would quickly melt; But I’ll help you, and you help me, And then what a splendid drift there’ll be.”
“Help one another,” the maple spray Said to its fellow leaves one day; “The sun would wither me here alone, Long enough ere the day is gone; But I’ll help you, and you help me, And then what a splendid shade there’ll be.”
“Help one another,” the dew-drop cried, Seeing another drop close to its side; “The warm south wind would dry me away, And I should be gone ere noon to-day; But I’ll help you, and you help me, And we’ll make a brook and run to the sea.”
“Help one another,” a grain of sand Said to another grain close at hand; “The wind may carry me over the sea, And then, oh, what will become of me? But, come, my brother, give me your hand, We’ll build a mountain and then we’ll stand.”
And so the snowflakes grew to drifts; The grains of sand to a mountain; The leaves became a summer shade; The dew-drops fed a fountain.
--_Source Unidentified._
Unexpected help may come from humble servants, even when unrecognized or criticized.
Two men walking across a little park in Washington (says Ida N. Tarbell) saw Mr. Lincoln just ahead of them meet a crippled soldier who was in a towering rage, cursing the Government from the President down. Mr. Lincoln asked what was the matter. “Matter,” snapt the soldier; “I’m just out of a rebel prison. I’ve been discharged and I can’t get my money.” Mr. Lincoln asked for the soldier’s papers, saying that he had been a lawyer and perhaps could help him. The two gentlemen stept behind some shrubbery and waited. The President took the papers from the soldier, examined them, wrote a line on the back, and told him to carry them to the chief clerk at the War Department. After Mr. Lincoln had passed on, the gentlemen asked the soldier if he knew who had been talking to him. “Some ugly old fellow who pretends to be a lawyer,” was the answer. On looking at the note written on the back of the papers, the soldier discovered that he had been cursing “Abe” Lincoln to his face. He found a request to the chief clerk to examine the papers and, if correct, to see that the soldier was given his pay, signed A. Lincoln.
Small acts of help and kindness lighten the burdens of those struggling.
Susan Coolidge puts into verse some suggestive questions upon opportunities to be helpful:
If you were toiling up a weary hill, Bearing a load beyond your strength to bear, Straining each nerve untiringly and still Stumbling and losing foothold here and there, And each one passing by would do so much As give one upward lift and go his way, Would not the slight reiterated touch Of help and kindness lighten all the day?
If you were breasting a keen wind which tost And buffeted and chilled you as you strove, Till baffled and bewildered quite, you lost The power to see the way, and aim and move, And one, if only for a moment’s space, Gave you a shelter from the bitter blast, Would you not find it easier to face The storm again when the brief rest was past?
Helping others brings joy and meaning beyond earthly possessions.
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If I can live To make some pale face brighter, and to give A second luster to some tear-dimmed eye, Or e’en impart One throb of comfort to an aching heart, Or cheer some wayworn soul in passing by;
If I can lend A strong hand to the fallen, or defend The right against a single envious strain, My life, tho bare Perhaps of much that seemeth dear and fair To us of earth, will not have been in vain.
The purest joy, Most near to heaven, far from earth’s alloy, Is bidding cloud give way to sun and shine; And ’twill be well If on that day of days the angels tell Of me, “She did her best for one of Thine.” (Text.)
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