Sermon Illustrations on Compassion for the Poor

Feed Poor Boys, Sir!

John 6:35

Christ calls us to feed and care for the poor rather than waste time on trivial things.

"I am the bread of life" John 6:35. Terry Bell relates a memorable experience: The year was 1969. It was my first "real" mission trip. I was in a little village in South India and terribly homesick. I was 20 years old and starving for a "good ole" American cheeseburger. I had not had one in 2 1/2 months. The land around me was semi-jungle, semi-bush. Tarzan would have felt right at home, but I did not. One boring afternoon I whiled away the hours by playing with the monkeys that forever enlivened our premises. Standing out on the balcony, I teased the little primate creeps by giving them doughballs made from a loaf of bread I was holding. A hairy hand (or is it a paw?) would reach over the edge of the roof, I would place a morsel in it, and like lightning, it was retracted to the squealing and grunting delight of his monkey-minded buddies. What a great game! Suddenly I realized that on the street below my balcony a crowd had gathered. They were not nearly as entertained by this "monkeying around" as I was. One thin-faced, sickly looking boy looked up at me with bulging eyes. In broken English, he said, "Master, feed poor boys, not monkeys." It was like a stab in the heart. In the street below were orphans, beggars, lepers...the off-scourings of humankind. Mothers and fathers who had starving children. Children who watched malnourished parents die. Parents who would watch their hungry children watching them die, knowing they left them to a miserable life on the streets. And there I was, playing games with the bread that for them was so precious. I was cut to the heart. Every day this scene is reenacted in thousands of padded-pew churches, whose priorities are playing games with monkeys. A Christian First The mother watched as her four-year-old daughter played while taking her bath. The little girl sang songs that she had heard and the mother was fascinated by her ability to remember the words and the tunes of the songs. As she watched and listened to her daughter she began to think to herself, "I wonder what she will be when she grows up?" And as most of us as proud parents would do, she began to think about all the things that she could be. "She could be a singer, an actress, a teacher...." After thinking about all the marvelous things her daughter might grow up to be she decided to ask her daughter what she wanted to be when she grew up. The little girl's response was, "A Christian first." The young mother said she was deeply humbled by the child's response. While she had been thinking in terms of a career, the little girl pointed out that first she wanted to be a Christian.

Benevolence, Beauty of

True beauty is shown by the hand that gives to the poor, not by outward adornment.

There was a dispute between three ladies, which had the most beautiful hand. One sat by a stream, and dipped her hand into the water, and held it up; another plucked strawberries until the ends of her fingers were pink; and another gathered violets until her hands were fragrant. An old haggard woman passing by asked, "Who will give me a gift; for I am poor?" All three denied her; but another who sat near, unwashed in the stream, unstained with fruit, unadorned with flowers, gave her a little gift, and satisfied the poor woman. And then she asked them what was the dispute, and they told her, and lifted up before her their beautiful hands. "Beautiful, indeed," said she, when she saw them. But, when they asked her which was the most beautiful, she said, "It is not the hand that is washed clean in the brook, it is not the hand that is tipped with red, it is not the hand that is garlanded with fragrant flowers, but it is the hand that gives to the poor which is the most beautiful." As she said these words, her wrinkles fled, her staff was thrown away, and she stood before them an angel from heaven with authority to decide the question in dispute.

Dress, Blood-Spots on

Lavish dress may hide the neglect of the needy, symbolizing partnership with death.

It would be strange if at any great assembly, which, while it dazzled the young and thoughtless, beguiled the gentler hearts that beat beneath the embroidery with a placid sensation of luxurious benevolence, as if by all that they wore in waywardness of beauty, comfort had first been given to the distressed, and aid to the indigent, — it would be strange, if, for a moment, the spirits of Truth and of Error, which walk invisibly among the masks of the earth, would lift the dizziness from our erring thoughts, and show us how — inasmuch as the sums exhausted by that magnificence would have given back the failing breath to many an unbeltered outcast on moor and street — they who wear it have literally entered into partnership with Death, and dressed themselves in his spoils. Yes: if the veil could be lifted from your thoughts, but from your human sight, you would see — the angels do see — on those gay white dresses of yours strange dark spots, and crimson patterns that you knew not of, — spots of the inextinguishable red that all the seas cannot wash away; — yes: and among the pleasant flowers that crown your fair heads, and glow on your wreathed hair, you would see that one weed was always twisted that no one thought of, — the grass that grows on graves.

— J. Ruskin

Dress, Crime in

Extravagant dress is wrong while others lack basic necessities.

As long as there are cold and nakedness in the land around you, so long there can be no question at all but that splendor of dress is a crime. In due time, when we have nothing better to set people to work at, it may be right to let them make lace and cut jewels; but as long as there are any who have no blankets for their beds, and no rags for their bodies, so long it is blanket-making and tailoring we must set people to work at, not lace. J. Ruskin.

Kindness, to the Poor

Kindness to the poor involves welcoming and caring for them as valued individuals.

One day, Lulu, who was a child of poor parents, saw a lame old man going by, wretchedly clad, with a pack on his back. Lulu thought he must be cold or hungry; so out she ran, without raying any thing to her mother, and soon overtook the stranger. "Man!" said she, "my father always gives poor folks something to eat: won't you come back and get some bread?" He turned about; and Lulu took his hand, and led him back to the house. "Here, mother," said Lulu, "is a poor lame man, who is hungry: won't you give him some bread?" Her mother looked pleased, and hastened to feed the stranger; while Lulu set him a chair close by the fire, and treated him as if she thought he were as poor and good as Lazarus.

Poor, Believe the

Ignoring the needy can lead to tragic consequences; better to give even to the unworthy.

One stormy night, a gentleman was passing along the streets of a city, when suddenly a voice at his elbow said, "I am not fit for work; and I have eaten nothing to-day." It was a soldier, pale as if from recent sickness or too scanty food. He had lost both arms by amputation. The gentleman's first impulse was to give him something but the trouble of unbuttoning his coat was too much: and he passed on. The thought of the poor man starving, perhaps, made him miserable; and, if it had been possible to have found him, he would gladly have done so. Three or four days after the occurrence, the papers told the sad story of a discharged soldier, his wife and two children, dying of starvation. They had had nothing to eat for four days. The gentleman immediately hastened down town and found the poor sufferers. There was the same wan face that he had repelled at the corner of the street. His wife and child had died; and he, with one little girl, was sob ing beside their dead bodies. Better give to thousand unworthy than refuse one that is really in need.

Poor, Remembering the

Regularly helping the poor with practical aid demonstrates ongoing compassion and generosity.

James Bundy of Bristol, England, was in the habit, on Satunday evenings, of visiting the markets, to do good to the poor. If he beheld a poor person at a butcher's stall inquiring the price of a piece of meat, and then turning away for want of more money, he would call him back, saying, "What can you afford to give?" On being told how much, he would produce the additional sum, and enable the poor man to make the purchase. Besides this, he regularly distributed large quantities of provisions to the poor of his acquaintance.

Poor, a Treasure

The poor and sick are the true treasures of the church, valued above material wealth.

The satellites of the emperor, hearing that the treasures of the church had been confided to Laurence, carried him before the tribunal; and he was required to say where the treasures were concealed. He answered, that, in three days, he would show them. On the third day, St. Laurence gathered together the sick and the poor to whom he had dispensed alms, and, placing them before the prefect, said, "Behold! here are the treasures of Christ's Church."

The Poor Servant And Her Afflicted Parents

Selfless compassion for needy parents results in God's provision and blessing.

A female servant, who was past the prime of life, in an inferior station, but much respected for her piety and integrity, had saved a little money from her wages, which, as her health was evidently on the decline, would probably soon be required for her own relief. Hearing that her aged parents were, by unavoidable calamity, reduced to extreme indigence, and having reason to fear they were strangers to the comforts of religion, she obtained leave to visit them; shared with them the little she had, and used her utmost endeavors to make them acquainted with the consolations and supports of the gospel, apparently not without success. Being reminded by an acquaintance that, in all probability, she would soon stand in need of what she had saved, she replied, "that she could not think it her duty to see her aged parents pining in want, while she had more than was needful for her present use, and that she trusted God would find her some friend, if he saw good to disable her for service." Having continued to assist her parents till their death, she was soon after deprived of health, so as to become incapable of labor. God, in a wonderful manner, however, raised her up friends where she least expected them. For years she was comfortably supported, and circumstances were at length so ordered, that her maintenance to the end of life was almost as much insured, as any thing can be in this uncertain world.

Matthew Hale And The Poor

Lord Chief Justice Hale generously provides for and dignifies the poor in his community.

It is said of the excellent Lord Chief Justice Hale that he frequently invited his poor neighbors to dinner, and made them sit at table with himself. If any of them were sick, so that they could not come, he would send provisions to them warm from his own table. He did not confine his bounties to the poor of his own parish, but diffused supplies to the neighboring parishes as occasion required. He always treated the old, the needy, and the sick, with the tenderness and familiarity that became one who considered they were of the same nature with himself, and were reduced to no other necessities but such as he himself might be brought to. Common beggars he considered in another view. If any of these met him in his walks, or came to his door, he would ask such as were capable of working, why they went about so idly. If they answered, it was because they could not get employ, he would send them to some field, to gather all the stones in it, and lay them in a heap; and then paid them liberally for their trouble. This being done, he used to send his carts, and cause them to be carried to such places of the highway as needed repair.

Princess Charlotte'S Benevolence

Princess Charlotte distributes food and clothing to poor laborers instead of celebrating birthdays.

It is related of the lamented Princess Charlotte, that in one of her walks with Prince Leopold, in November, 1816, she addressed a decent looking man, who was employed as a day-laborer, and said, "My good man, you appear to have seen better days." "I have, your royal highness," he replied: "I have rented a good farm, but the change in the times has ruined me." At this reply she burst into tears, and said to the prince, "Let us be grateful to Providence for his blessings, and endeavor to fulfil the important duties required of us, to make all our laborers happy." On her return home, she desired the steward to make out a list of all the deserving families in the neighborhood, with the particulars of their circumstances: orders were given to the household that the whole of the superfluous food should be carefully distributed according to the wants of the poor: and, instead of the usual festivities on the following birth-days of the prince and princess, £150 were sent on each occasion in clothing the poor.

Lavater Helping A Poor Woman

Lavater gave his limited money to a poor widow despite his own needs.

The following is an extract from the private diary of the Rev. J. C. Lavater, of Zurich, in Switzerland, dated January 2d, 1769:—

My wife asked me, during dinner, what sentiment I had chosen for the day. "Give to him that asketh thee; and from him that would borrow turn not thou away." "Pray, how is this to be understood?" said she. "Literally: we must take the words as if we heard Jesus Christ himself pronounce them. I am the steward, not the proprietor of my possessions."

Just as I arose from dinner, a widow desired to speak to me. "You will excuse me, dear sir," said she, "I must pay my rent, and I am six dollars short. I have been ill a whole month, and could scarcely keep my children from starving. I have laid by every penny, but I am six dollars short, and must have them to-day or to-morrow; pray hear me, dear sir." Here she presented me a book enchased with silver. "My late husband," said she, "gave it to me when we were betrothed. I part with it with reluctance, and know not when I can redeem it. O, dear sir, cannot you assist me?" "My poor woman, indeed I cannot." So saying, I put my hand in my pocket, and touched my money: it was about two dollars and a half. "It won't do," said I to myself; "and if it would, I shall want it." "Have you no friend," said I, "who would give you such a trifle?" "No, not a soul living; and I do not like to go from house to house; I would rather work whole nights. I have been told that you are a good-natured gentleman; and if you cannot assist, you will, I hope, excuse me for having given you so much trouble. I will try how I can extricate myself; God has never forsaken me; and I hope he will not begin to turn his back on me in my 76th year." The same moment my wife entered the room.

I was—O thou traitorous heart!—I was angry, ashamed, and should have been glad if I could have sent her away under some pretext or other, for my conscience whispered to me, "Give to him that asketh thee." My wife, too, whispered irresistibly in my ear, "She is a pious, honest woman; she has certainly been ill; assist her if you can." "I have no more than two dollars," said I, "and she wants six; how, therefore, can I answer her demand? I will give her something, and send her away." My wife squeezed my hand tenderly, smiling, and beseeching me by her looks. She then said aloud, what my conscience had whispered to me before: "Give to him that asketh thee; and turn not away from him who would borrow of thee." I smiled, and asked her whether she would give her ring in order to enable me to do it. "With great pleasure," said she, pulling off her ring. The old woman was either too simple to observe this, or too modest 39. 40 to take advantage of it: however, when she was going, my wife told her to wait a little in the passage. "Were you in earnest, my dear, when you offered your ring?" said I, as soon as we were in private. "I am surprised that you can ask that question; do you think I sport with charity? Remember what you said a quarter of an hour ago. You have been always so benevolent, and why are you now backward in assisting that poor woman? Why did you not give her what money you had in your purse? Do you not know that there are six dollars in your bureau, and that it will be quarter-day in ten days?" I pressed my wife to my bosom, and dropped a tear. "You are more righteous than I! Keep your ring; you have made me blush!" I then went to the bureau, and took the six dollars. When I was going to open the door, to call the widow, I was seized with horror because I had said, "I cannot help you."—O, thou traitorous tongue! thou deceitful heart!—"There, take the money," said I, "which you want." She seemed at first to suppose it was only a small contribution, and kissed my hand. But when she saw the six dollars, her astonishment was so great, that for a moment she could not speak. She then said, "How shall I thank you? I cannot repay you; I have got nothing but this poor book, and it is old." "Keep your book and the money," said I, "and thank God, and not me. Indeed I do not deserve it, because I have hesitated so long to assist you. Go, and say not one word more."

M. De Sallo And The Robber

Compassion and generosity can transform even a desperate robber's heart and actions.

In the year 1662, when Paris was afflicted with a long and severe famine, Monsieur de Sallo, returning from a summer evening's walk accompanied with only a page, was accosted by a man who presented his pistol, and, in a manner far from hardened resolution, asked him for his money. M. de Sallo, observing that he came to the wrong person, and that he could obtain but little from him, added, I have but three pistoles, which are not worth a scuffle, so, much good may it do you with them; but, like a friend, let me tell you, you are going on in a very bad way." The robber took them, and without asking him for more, walked away with an air of dejection and terror.

The fellow was no sooner gone than M. de Sallo ordered his page to follow the robber, to observe where he went, and to bring him an account of all he should discover. The boy obeyed, pursued him through several obscure streets, and at length saw him enter a baker's shop, where he observed him change one of the pistoles and buy a large brown loaf; with this salutary purchase the robber went a few doors farther, and, entering an alley, ascended several flights of stairs. The boy crept up after him to the topmost story, where he saw him go into a room which was no otherwise illuminated than by the friendly light of the moon; and, peeping through a crevice, he perceived the wretched man cast the loaf upon the floor, and, bursting into tears, cry out, "There, eat your fill; this is the dearest loaf I ever bought; I have robbed a gentleman of three pistoles; let us husband them well, and let me have no more teazings; for, soon or late, these doings must bring me to ruin." His wife, having calmed the agony of his mind, took up the loaf, and, cutting it, gave four pieces, to four poor starving children.

The page, having thus performed his commission, returned home and gave his master an account of all he had seen and heard. De Sallo, who was much moved (what Christian breast can be unmoved at distress like this!), commanded the boy to call him at five the next morning. He rose accordingly, and took his boy with him to show him the way: he inquired of his neighbors the character of a man who lived in such a garret, with a wife and four children; by whom he was informed that he was a very industrious man, a tender husband, and a quiet neighbor; that his occupation was that of a shoemaker, and that he was a neat workman; but was overburdened with a family, and struggled hard to live in such dear times. Satisfied with this account, M. de Sallo ascended to the shoemaker's lodging, and, knocking at the door, it was opened by the unhappy man himself; who, knowing him at first sight to be the gentleman whom he had robbed, prostrated himself at his feet. M. de Sallo desired him to make no noise, assuring him he had not the least intention to hurt him. "You have a good character," said he, "among your neighbors, but you must expect your life will be cut short if you are so wicked as to continue the freedoms you took with me. Hold your hand; here are thirty pistoles to buy leather; husband it well, and set your children a laudable example. To put you out of further temptations to commit such ruinous and fatal crimes, I will encourage your industry. I hear you are a neat workman; you shall therefore now take measure of me and my lad for two pairs of shoes each, and he shall call upon you for them." The whole family seemed absorbed in joy; amazement and gratitude in some measure deprived them of speech. M. de Sallo departed, greatly moved, and with a mind replete with satisfaction at having saved a man from the commission of guilt, from an ignominious death, and, perhaps, from everlasting misery.

Never was a day much better begun; the consciousness of having performed such an action, whenever it recurs to the mind, must be attended with pleasure, and that self-complacency which is more desirable than gold will be ever the attendant on such truly Christian charity

A Robber Befriended

Showing kindness to a desperate robber reveals the power of compassion over judgment.

A young man was stopped in a little street in one of the cities of France; his purse or his life was demanded. A courageous and sensible heart soon distinguishes between the voice of the unfortunate wretch, whom misery drags to crime, and that of the villain whose wickedness prompts him to it. The young man felt that it was an unfortunate person whom he ought to save. "What do you ask, miserable creature, what do you ask?" said he in an imposing tone to his aggressor.

"Nothing sir," answered a sobbing voice; "I ask nothing of you."

"Who are you? what do you do?"

"I am a poor journeyman shoemaker, without the means of supporting my wife and four children."

"I do not know whether you speak the truth. Where do you live?"

"In such a street, at a baker's house."

"We shall see, lead the way."

The shoemaker awed by his firmness, led him to his abode as he would have led him to the bottom of a dungeon. They arrived at the baker's. There was none but a woman in the shop.

"Madam, do you know this man?"

"Yes, sir, he is a poor journeyman shoemaker who lives in the fifth story, and who has much difficulty in sustaining his numerous family."

"How can you let him want bread?"

"Sir, we are young people, newly established; we cannot give much; my husband does not wish me to give more than twenty-four cents credit to this man."

"Give him two loaves of bread. Take these two loaves, and mount to your room."

The shoemaker obeys, as much agitated as if he were about to commit some crime, but in a very different kind of trouble. They enter. The wife and children eagerly take the food which is offered them. The young man has seen too much. He goes out, after giving two louis to the baker's wife, with orders to supply the family with bread according to their wants. Some days after he returns to see the children, to whom he has given a second life, and he tells their father to follow him. He conducts his poor protege into a shop, well built and well furnished with tools, and all the necessary materials for working at his trade. "Would you be contented and happy if this shop were yours?"

"Ah sir, but alas!"

"What?"

"I have not the freeman's right, and it costs"—

"Take me to the syndic jury."

The license was bought, and the shoemaker placed in the shop.

The author of so fine an act of humanity, was a young man about twenty-seven years old. It is calculated that the establishment of this workman cost him from three to four thousand livres. He is not known, and useless researches have been made to discover him.

#### 41. Miscellaneous Examples.

George Iii. And The Poor Mechanic

King George III's punctual kindness relieved a poor mechanic's distress with compassion.

The Rev. A. Redford, in his funeral sermon for this benevolent monarch, states that a respectable mechanic, who had the honor and happiness to be personally known to his majesty, was, through affliction in his family, brought into great pecuniary straits. He was advised to present a petition to the king, stating his circumstances. He did so; and his majesty was pleased to appoint a certain hour on the next morning, when he was ordered to be in waiting. He went accordingly to the gate of the queen's lodge, but through diffidence did not ring for admittance. He lingered until the appointed time was past by a few minutes, when the king came out with some attendants. He instantly observed the petitioner, and said rather sharply, "I desired you to be here precisely at such an hour; it is now five minutes past the time; you know that I am punctual." His majesty condescendingly turned back, saying, "Follow me." He proceeded through several rooms, into his private closet; and having shut the door, went to his desk, and took out a purse and gave it to the applicant, and said, "There is money to pay your debts, and a trifle for yourself." The humble petitioner, overwhelmed with the king's goodness, dropped on his knees, and made a stammering effort to thank his king, but a flood of tears prevented him. His majesty instantly put forth his hand, and with considerable emotion exclaimed, "Get up, get up; thank God that I have it in my power to help an honest man."

A Suicide Prevented

A boy's plea for help stopped a nobleman from suicide and led to acts of charity.

A Piedmontese nobleman, into whose company I fell at Turin, (says Mr. Rages of Italy,) told me his story without reserve, as follows: "I was weary of life, and after a day such as few have known, and none would wish to remember, was lounging along the street to the river, when I felt a sudden check: I turned, and beheld a little boy, who caught the skirt of my coat in his anxiety to solicit my notice, whose look and manner were irresistible. Not less was the lesson he had learned— 'There are six of us, and we are dying for food.' Why should not I, said I to myself, relieve this wretched family? I have the means, and it will not delay me many minutes. But what if it does? The scene of misery he conducted me to, I cannot describe; I threw them my purse, and their burst of gratitude overcame me. It filled my eyes, it went as cordial to my heart. I will call again to-morrow, I said. Fool that I was, to think of leaving a world where so much pleasure was to be had, and so cheaply."

The Coventry Dolp

A poor man's charity inspired a lasting town tradition of giving bread to all.

A singular charity, entitled "The Coventry Dole," has recently been a subject of investigation in Devizes, of which the following is said to be the origin:—

A poor weaver, passing through the place, without money and without friends, being overtaken by hunger and the utmost necessity, applied for charity to a baker, who kindly gave him a penny loaf. The weaver made his way to Coventry, where, after many years of industry, he amassed a fortune; and by his will, in remembrance of the seasonable charity of Devizes, he bequeathed a sum, in trust, for the purpose of distributing, on the anniversary of the day when he was so relieved, a halfpenny loaf to every person in the town, gentle and simple, and to every traveller that should pass through the town on that day a penny loaf.

Whitfield And The Churl

True religion shows in helping the poor, trusting God to provide for generosity.

While the Rev. G. Whitfield was preaching on one occasion at Plymouth, he lodged with Mr. Kinsman, a minister of the town. After breakfast on Monday, he said to his friend, "Come, let us visit some of your poor people. It is not enough that we labor in the pulpit; we must endeavor to be useful out of it." On entering the dwellings of the afflicted poor, he administered to their temporal as well as spiritual wants. Mr. K., knowing the low state of his finances, was surprised at his liberality, and suggested that he thought he had been too bountiful. Mr. W., with some degree of smartness, replied: "It is not enough, young man, to pray, and put on a serious face; true religion, and undefiled, is this—to visit the widow and the fatherless in their affliction, and to supply their wants. My stock, it is true, is nearly exhausted; but God, whom I serve, and whose saints we have assisted, will, I doubt not, soon give me a supply." His hopes were not disappointed. A stranger called on him in the evening, who addressed him thus: "With great pleasure I have heard you preach; you are on a journey, as well as myself, and travelling is expensive. Do me the honor to accept this," at the same time presenting him with five guineas. Returning to the family, Mr. Whitfield, smiling, held out the money in his hand, saying: "There, young man, God has speedily repaid what I bestowed. Let this in future teach you not to withhold what it is in the power of your hand to give. The gentleman to whom I was called is a perfect stranger to me; his only business was to give me the sum you see." It is remarkable, that this gentleman, though rich, was notorious for a penurious disposition: but Elijah was fed by ravens.

The King'S Last Loaf

Trusting God's power enables sharing with the poor even in scarcity.

Alfred the Great, who died in the year 900, was of a most amiable disposition, and, we would hope, of genuine piety. During his retreat at Athelney, in Somersetshire, after his defeat by the Danes, a beggar came to his little castle, and requested alms. His queen informed Alfred that they had but one small loaf remaining, which was insufficient for themselves and their friends, who were gone in search of food, though with little hope of success. The king replied, "Give the poor Christian one half of the loaf. He that could feed five thousand men with five loaves and two fishes, can certainly make the half loaf suffice for more than our necessity." The poor man was accordingly relieved, and Alfred's people shortly after returned with a store of fresh provisions!

The Student'S Trick

Giving secretly to the poor brings joy and amazement to the recipient.

A young man of eighteen or twenty, a student in a university, took a walk one day with a professor, who was commonly called the student's friend, such was his kindness to the young men whom it was his office to instruct.

While they were walking together, and the professor was seeking to lead the conversation to grave subjects, they saw a pair of old shoes lying in their path, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was at work close by, and who had nearly finished his day's work

The young student turned to the professor, saying, "Let us play the man a trick; we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and watch to see his porplexity when he cannot find them."

"My dear friend," answered the professor, "we must never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and you may give yourself a much greater pleasure. Put a dollar into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves."

The student did so, and then placed himself with the professor behind the bushes close by, through which they could easily watch the laborer, and see whatever wonder or joy he might express.

The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path, where he had left his coat and shoes. While he put on the coat, he slipped one foot into one of his shoes; but feeling something hard, he stooped down and found the dollar. Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance; he gazed upon the dollar, turned it round, and looked again and again; then he looked around him on all sides, but could see no one. Now he put the money in his pocket and proceeded to put on the other shoe, but how great was his astonishment when he found the other dollar! His feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom this timely bounty, from some unknown hand, would save from perishing.

The young man stood there deeply affected, and tears filled his eyes.

"Now," said the professor, "are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?"

"O dearest sir," answered the youth, "you have taught me a lesson now that I will never forget. I feel now the truth of the words which I never before understood, 'it is better to give than to receive.'"

20 Sermon Illustrations on Compassion for the Poor