all the world; you would give to those who do not need it.” Who in the whole of this congregation would object to give anything to the Queen? Not a soul of us, and yet, perhaps, there is no person in the world who so little needs our gifts. We can always give to those who do not require anything; for we feel that there is some little honour conferred upon us — an honour bestowed by the reception. Now, look at Jesus. When he gives to his friends, he gets no honour from them: the honour is in his own free heart, that should lead him to give to such poor needy worms. Great men have gone to Christ with mere professions, and they have asked him to be good to them; but then they have at the same time declared, that they had a righteousness of their own, and did not need much from him; and he has sent them on their business, and given them nothing. He said, “I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” But whenever poor, lost sinners have gone to Christ, he has never turned one of them away — never. He has given all they could possibly want, and infinitely more than they thought they could ever expect. Might not Jesus say to us, when we ask him for the blessings of his grace, “You are impudent in daring to ask.” But instead of that, he loves to be asked, and he freely and richly gives — “Not as the world gives”; for he gives to those who need it the most.
11. Again, there is another view of the world’s gifts. The world gives to its friends. Any man will help his own friends. If we do not help our own relatives and friends then we are worse than heathen men and tax collectors. But the world generally confines its good wishes and blessings to its class, and kith, and kin. It cannot think of giving blessings to its enemies. Have you ever heard of the world’s blessing an enemy? Never. It gives its gifts to its friends, and only very scantily even to them. But Christ gives his gifts to his enemies. “Not as the world gives” he may truly say. The world says, “I must see whether you deserve it; I must see that your case is a good one.” It enquires, and enquires, and enquires again; but Christ only sees that our case is a bad one, and then he gives. He does not want a good case but a bad case. He knows our necessity, and, once discovering our necessity, not even all our sin can stop the hand of his bounty. Oh, if Jesus should call to mind some of the hard speeches we have uttered about him, he would surely never bless us, if it were not that his ways are far above our ways. Why, remember man, it is not long ago since you cursed him — since you laughed at his people — despised his ministers, and could spit upon his Bible. Jesus has cast all that behind his back, and loved you notwithstanding. Would the world have done that? Let a man get up and rail at his fellows, will they forgive, and, after forgiving, will they begin to bless? Will they die for their enemies? Oh, no! such a thing never entered into the heart of manhood. But Christ blesses rebels, traitors, enemies to his cross. He brings them to know his love, and taste of his eternal mercies.
12. A thousand remarks seem to come to mind and I scarcely know which to choose. “Not as the world gives do I give to you.” The world always gives with a sparing motive. The most of us are compelled to economy, if we give anything away to a poor man we generally hope that he will not come again. If we give him half a crown it is very often as we say to get rid of him. If we bestow a little charity it is in the hope that we shall not see his face just by and by, for really we do not like the same men continually begging at our door when the world is so full of beggars. Did you ever hear of a man who gave a beggar something to encourage him to keep on begging from him? I must confess I never did such a thing, and am not likely to begin. But that is just what Christ does. When he gives us a little grace, his motive is to make us ask for more; and when he gives us more grace it is given with the very motive, to make us come and ask again. He gives us silver blessings to induce us to ask for golden mercies; and when we have golden favours, those same mercies are given on purpose to lead us to pray more earnestly, and open our mouth wider so that we may receive more. What a strange giver Christ is! what a strange friend, that he gives on purpose to make us beg for more! The more you ask from Christ, the more you can ask; the more you have received, the more you will want; the more you know him, the more you will desire to know him; the more grace you receive, the more grace you will pant after; and when you are full of grace, you will never be content until you get full of glory. Christ’s way of giving is, “Of his fulness we have received, and grace for grace” — grace to make us pant for more grace; grace to make us long after something higher, something fuller and richer still. “Not as the world gives do I give to you.”
13. Again; when the world gives anything it is almost always with a selfish motive. The Christian man gives, not hoping to receive again; but the world lends so that it may borrow; it gives so that it may receive. There are many men whose whole lives are devoted a looking after themselves. They would not like to be told so; but even their gifts to a hospital, or to a charity, are merely given because their name should be in the list. We know that too many people would not think of relieving private need unless they thought there was a merit in it, and so thought it would stand good for them at last. They would infinitely prefer to do their good in the lumps. I know, at this day, a man that I believe would give twenty pounds, fifty pounds, or a hundred pounds to a charity, but who would let his own relatives starve rather than give them anything, because it would never be known, — no one would talk about it. The world’s motive for bestowing a blessing is in order that some rich fruit may flow from it. If the world rewards a warrior, its ostensible reason is that other soldiers may fight bravely. If it rewards some great artist, it is to encourage the profession, that is, to help themselves, by getting others to amuse them, as well as this man has done. There is always an ulterior motive in the world’s generosity. Not so in Christ’s; when he gives us mercies, he has nothing whatever to get from us. It is our delight to live for him; but our living for him cannot increase his glory — he is God over all, blessed for ever. He gives us more than he can ever receive. And though we with grateful hearts desire to live for him, that very gratitude is his gift first. The well of love is filled out of the spring of God, otherwise it would have been the grave of mercies, and not a fountain of praise.
14. Now, what more shall I say? I seem to have brought out the most prominent point of the worlds giving, but let me add one more. “Not as the world gives do I give to you.” All that the world gives, it only bestows for a season, it must returned again. You have riches, man, as the reward of your toils. How shall you be the better for them in a few short months? Your broad acres, your leagues of land shall dwindle into a short six feet of clay. Your mansion, what shall it shrivel into, but into a small coffin, over which shall be scratched a little earth to hide your putrid dust, and spare the world a nuisance? The world will take it all back from you. Naked you came into it, and it will take care you shall take nothing out of it, for naked shall you go out of it again. Oh, man, you have accumulated knowledge until you have become a walking encyclopedia, but what shall you take with you? What difference shall there is between your hollow skull and that of the lowliest peasant, when some wanton sexton, in some future year, shall take it up, or split it with his spade? How shall you be the better for all those big thoughts that have stretched your skull, and all those marvellous conceptions that have made it ache so much, that you could scarcely carry it upon your shoulders? You will go back again to your fellow earth, and the worm shall eat you, and the philosopher shall taste no sweeter to its tooth than did the peasant. And, then, whether you are a prince or king, or whether you are a poor, ignorant man, the worms shall make no distinction. You shall still rot — still be consumed; nauseous gases and a handful of dust shall be your whole residuum. What then can the world give? If it tried it could not give you anything that would last; it cannot give you anything better than air. It can give you nothing that can pass into eternity with you, even though it follows you with the trumpet of fame. That trumpet cannot be heard halfway across the Jordan. If all the men in the world clapped their hands in your praise, not one angel, even on the very borders of the celestial world would observe the tumult of applause. The world can give you nothing that you can carry with you. You are at the best a packhorse, that shall carry its burden until it ends its journey, and then it must lie down and die. You only carry a burden on your back, and truly, death shall unload you before you are allowed to enter another world. How different is Christ in his gifts! What he gives he gives for ever. When he bestows mercies they are lasting things; no shadows does he give, but real substance — no fancies, but eternal realities does he bestow. Oh, men of this world, when your
