cases such a method of giving is not desirable. Secrecy is not required in order to present a munificent donation on Christian principles; on the contrary, it may be often necessary, for the sake of example, that a gift should be publicly bestowed. In such a case it is a spiritual triumph to give it publicly, and yet feel that no part of the motives flowed from the anticipated publicity. If a person has any apprehension that his heart will be vain of his munificence, it is doubtless advisable in such circumstances to expend it privately; but it would be far better if his principles were strong enough to give publicly, and yet permit him to feel no self-complacency in the act.

It is difficult to prescribe minute rules for giving; we are by no means presumptuous enough to attempt the task. Indeed, is not an OMNISCIENT EYE requisite to fix for each individual how much and in what way he ought to give? Still, there are certain principles of giving which are obviously wrong, and there are certain modes of giving which clearly prove that the principles acted on are those very wrong ones. Who, for example, has not been struck with the uniformity of accounts which characterizes the subscription lists of our religious institutions? Those guineas in "single file," which would lead us to suppose that the donors had been laid on a Procrustes' bed, and their affluence clipped down or extended to the same bulk. But is it so? Should we not often find that one of those guineas proceeded from a purse which

could easily have spared a dozen more, while the other perhaps was the offering of a piety so believing and earnest that it set aside the considerations which might possibly have been a justification for giving less? If benevolence always proceeded from true love to Christ, our subscription lists would soon wear a different aspect. There would be less of the contagion of giving, proceeding from without; less desire manifested to "do the same as others," and more of that self-reckoning, conscientious spirit which asks," How much owest thou unto my Lord ?" Giving would insensibly become a holier act, fraught with the richest blessings to the giver. An entire change might then take place in the mechanism of Christian effort. Special appeals-appeals so forcible that they leave scarcely anything to the force of inward principle, might then be laid aside. Ease and freedom would be infused into the onward movements of the church of Christ. Instead of impressment, philanthropy would fall back on its army of volunteers. Again, how often do we see uniformity under another aspect-an individual giving precisely the same sum at periods of his life when his circumstances were very different! At the commencement of his career, when yet struggling with slender capital, and the uncertainties of a business not yet established, he gave as much as he gives now after his exertions have long been crowned with affluence. Since that former period how many mercies has he received from the Divine hand!

How many who began the race when he did soon failed, and were snatched away by death from their opening prospects of success, but he has been spared to reap the fruit of his industry! Day after day for thirty years or more he has been kept from fatal accidents, endowed with all but uninterrupted health, crowned with every domestic felicity; his table has been spread with luxuries, his ships have crossed the ocean in safety, his warehouses and factories have been spared the devouring flames; and yet, with such an accumulated debt to the Father of mercies, he gives no more to aid in the diffusion of truth and happiness through the world, than he did when he had not contracted a thousandth part of those obligations. God has placed in the hand of his servant a thousand-fold more wealth than he formerly entrusted to him, but he has spent the increase upon himself, and thus embezzled his Master's money. Who can estimate the sinfulness of such a course? It is equally pernicious in its influence on himself and others. It is unjust to his fellow-men whose debtor he is; but it is more than this-it is infidelity to God, who will not fail to institute a scrutiny into the way we have expended the talents entrusted to our care. To be wealthy is to be made God's steward, and for every shilling we are responsible to him.

THOMAS WILSON, of Highbury, has left a name which will long be remembered among those who have felt and discharged the respon

sibilities of wealth. says one who knew him well, "to occupy singly, and alone, without all doubt or competition, the first place for usefulness in the denomination to which he belonged. He not only stood alone, but far above others, in that active, liberal, and well-directed zeal on which the prosperity of any cause so much depends. At the age of thirty-four he retired from business. His fortune at that time was not what the world would call large, considering his previous position in life, and he appears to have been induced to take that step by a strong desire to devote himself to the cause of Christ. Perhaps business,' as secular avocations are termed in common parlance, had never been quite congenial to his taste, but this itself was probably owing to the strong bias of his mind towards direct spiritual effort. Such an abandonment of worldly occupations may not be proper in every case; some have felt it a duty to continue in them in order that they might have more to consecrate to schemes of usefulness. We cannot but admire the man who, after having acquired an ample fortune, resolves, instead of retiring into ease and seclusion, to undergo the fatigues of business that he may have more property to consecrate to the welfare of his fellow-men; but it is still more admirable to see a man, like Mr. Wilson, give up business that he may hereafter work exclusively for the spread of religion. Here we see the ardour of his piety-the depth and sincerity of his Chris

"It was his distinction,"

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tian principles. From the very first it was evident that Mr. Wilson had not abandoned his former pursuits for the sake of ease; he brought into his new avocations all the method, earnestness, and regularity which characterized him in the old. The house he occupied in Artillery-place had only one front room on the ground-floor. This,' says his son,' was used by my father as a place for carrying on his private and public concerns, and was generally called the counting-house, where he sat a great part of the day, devoting many hours to transact what he had determined henceforth to make his business-the happy, joyful business of doing good, and to which he attended with all the energy and vigour which he had learned and practised in his secular calling.'

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It is difficult to estimate the amount of business in connexion with the cause of Christ which Mr. Wilson took into his hands. mere list of the places of worship which he originated, and the cost of which he in a great part defrayed, would give a surprising view of the extent of his exertions; yet those which he devoted to this branch of labour were but a part of his never-ceasing activity. He was always accessible; always ready to aid by his friendly counsel. He took a lively interest in most of the movements of the day. He was one of the originators of the Bible Society, the Tract Society, and the London Missionary Society. In his post as treasurer of Hoxton Academy, he was indefatigable in