beyond their power, they were willing of themselves; praying us with
much entreaty, that we would receive the gift, and take upon us the
fellowship of the ministering to the saints." The Christian king of the
Friendly Islands felt the same burstings of a Christian heart. The
missionary says of him: "He had not often gold or silver to give. But
one time he had obtained ten pounds from the ship for food he had sold.
How much do you think he gave to the missionary society? One pound?
Five pounds? This would have been a great deal. But he did more; he
gave the whole!"

It would not meet the requisitions of the command, "Thou shalt love they
neighbor as thyself." Would an Irish lord, amidst the scenes recently
experienced in his unhappy country, surrounded by hundreds and thousands
of miserable beings, starving, sick, and dying, be justified in view of
this law, by contributing to their relief a bare tenth of his income?
Every noble heart will answer in the negative. These times of agony
demanded far greater sacrifices.

Thus all efforts to fix upon a definite ratio of income or property of
universal obligation, will give constant ground for questions of
casuistry inevitably tending rather to screen the conscience, than to
stimulate to generous activity.

_But what does the Gospel teach us on the subject_? The religion of the
Gospel begins in the heart. "Son, give me the heart," is its
fundamental precept. In the Gospel scheme, every individual stands by
himself, on his own responsibility; he is bound by a personal tie to his
Maker. The conduct it prescribes is entirely spiritual. It requires a
burning heart, shedding its light and heat on all around. According to
its code, every act must gush from holy love. It does not prescribe