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A FLAMING SIGN, To the Citizens of New York, both seen and
Monday Morning, Feb. 6, 1815. Yesterday morning I made arrangements to leave New York, with bitterness of heart at the consideration of spending three or four weeks of time and expense, dancing attendance upon the clergy, declaring to them my tale of woe, both verbally and in private letters; as well as 3000 public and pathetic addresses intended to stimulate them to commisserate the miserable poor this miserable winter but all in vain. [. therefore sat down to address, in pamphlet form, a few remarks to the anti-professors of religion, as the professors would not listen to my tale of woe, and those that did listen would not understand. I finished my pamphlet about 10 o'clock at night, and was aroused from my intermitting slumber and visions of calamity, by the cry of fire, and, the tolling of a number of church bells, about midnight; when it powerfully struck my mind, that those repeated conflagrations in New York, (about fifteen in five weeks,) with the loss of about 500,000 dollars, were awful intimations of divine, displeasure, which are only preludes to more fearful judgments on the rich who will not pity and relieve the poor, For i
To sympathize and melt at human woe,
This impression will no doubt be considered the offspring of enthusiasm, as was my solemn warning, declared to N. Bonaparte 11 years ago, via his minister Talleyrande, all of which has literally come to pass.--See my Preliminary Essay, page 275. I foresaw the approach of war seven years ago, and declared the same to the American population.--See my “ Paradise Displayed,” page 146. And I foresaw two years ago the change in our national affairs, and the approach of accumulated calamities in this country. See my“ Beam of Celestial Light," page 130. But I would ask, is there any thing in this miserable world, that can attract the approving glance of the supreme divinity more effectually, tlian the tear of pi. ty stealing from the eye, and trickling down the cheek of the fair philanthropist, and dropping upon perishing old age or starving infancy. And it any thing can force the reluctant and lingering wrath of Heaven upon a city, surely it must be when the Almighty parent beholds his rich children, and. those too who have the word religion always playing upon their lips, and yet forsooth behold, with dry eyes and callous hearts, the bitter sufferings of their poor fel.
low mortals. Reader, art thou the parent of a numerous oisspring, and didst thou see thy mature offspring behold, without pity or relief, thy minor daughter, seven years old, perish with cold, wouldst thou not pity the last, and punish the first? without any manner of donbt. But would not such a man pity his perishing horse, dog, or cat ? most assuredly: and will the source and sum total of justice and benevolence, who heard the infantile cries, and saw the frozen limbs of his little child who perished with cold, begging from door to door in Cherry street, last Thursday, neglect to punish those who have both time and funds to remove the fatal cause which produced this doleful effect? and will not the dying exhortation of the amiable Matthew Franklin, published two weeks ago, and my first ada dress, published the day before tinis tragical, this shameful catastrophe, enliance the mighty guilt of such pitiless characters ?-Admitting, therefore, God to be as just and as generous as the aforesaid father, he must and will visit the crime of cruelty, especially in professors. But says a late wri «z in tho Columbiad, “ she was a little vagabond !" and did not God make even that “ vagabond” for his own glory, and to try rich men? No man can call these remarks the offspring of religious enthusiasm, I do not, I dare not profes's religion, because I see clearly its divinity, its spirituality, its universal philanthropy. I profess to be merely the shadow of a philanthropist, the fragment of a physiognomist. I see perhaps in the countenance of the trembling mendicant, the otline or the aperture of a gulf of beastly vice, but shall I therefore turn from him with contempt? No--I give my mite, and my soul with it, because I know God sees the same gulf in me, and I clearly see a more deleterious gulf of Satanic vice in the countenances of many of those who ride in their gilded coaches. Avaunt then, ye hateful subterfuges, the offspring of parsimony and pride. The most sanctimonious professor, had be the least self-knowledge, would be ashamed to apply an epithet of contumely to the most worthless of mendicaris.
In addition to my address to the antiprofessor's of New York, I have sent a private letter to Messrs. Cooper and Price, the Managers of the theatre, respectfully requesting them to appropriate a night for an oration or recitation, for the benefit of the poor. O may bleeding humanity, wecping philanthropy, and frowning justice forbid that they should imitate the orators I have already solicited in behalf of the poor, but humbly solicited and danced attendance on them, in vain. They will generously con- ..
tribute their mite for this godlike purpose, by appointing å night for a public recitation of some pathetic piece in favour of suffering humanity. It will add to their personal honour, and the credit of their city, so to do. For all men, however, vile and vulgar, piti." less and renurious they may be themselves, cannot help admiring and venerating the man whose social heart melts at human woe.
Some reasons for Beneficence to the Indigent. (Presented to the author, and written by his
friend Dr. BACHLY, of New York.]
Ye who have, should relieve the necessities of those who have not, for many reasons :
1st. Because opulence, unless it be used benevolently, and distributed annually in certain proportions to the necessitous, is generally found to be as injurious to the possessors of it, and to their descendants who inherit it, as the poverty of the indigent is to themselves, and to the inheritors of their poverty.--A miserable consideration!
2dly. Because you or your children may possibly need assistance, in the revolution of huinan events. Losses, crosses, ruin