There are seasons, with certain of the disciples, when in fancy or in reality their worldly fortunes droop, their finances do not flow in a full tide, and somewhere they must begin to retrench. A twig here and there must be lopped off. But where shall the knife be first used? In some direction they must stop payment.
I have looked on with melancholy curiosity, to see where the first blow would be struck. With not a few, there seemed not the slightest hesitation at beginning with their donations to charitable objects. The first stroke falls on the cause of Christ. Their luxuries, their equipage, those heavy drafts which are made upon them from quarters pertaining to fashion, amusement, pleasure, etc., must still be met. It will not do to dishonour them. But what they had been accustomed to give to religious enterprise seems to be fairer game. It will do to sink those causes which are identified with God’s glory and man’s eternal good; but those goodly boughs, odorous with flowers and fruit, their bodily and fashionable luxuries, and pleasures, no knife shall reach them.
It is sad to think that the first act of retrenchment should have reference to objects which ought to be unspeakably dear to every lover of the Saviour. One would think that the most natural idea to a servant of God would be, that God’s cause should be so deeply imbedded in the heart, as to be far beyond the reach of any but the severest storms of adversity, and that instead of its being reached first in the tempest, it would be the last. It would seem that the true disciple would cut about him in all directions, and cut at every thing almost, before the gracious cause of Christ should feel the blow. What would be thought of the shipmaster in peril, who, to save the labouring ship, should begin first to cast overboard the very articles most essential to the safety of all on board, leaving untouched what might have with all reason gone first?