THE PULPIT.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 2805, 5 July 1890, Page 6 (Supplement)

THE PULPIT.

A SERMON BY FATHER PROUT TO THE IRISH PEASANTRY.

We (Cork Coustitution) believe the following has nc» - er been published :— "He that giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord." Ye are not skilled in logic, nor indeed in anythin' else that I know, except playin' burly i' the fields, skauiing at cards i' the public houses for half gallons o' porter, and defraudin' yer clergy o' their lawful clues. What is worse there's no use in tryin' to drive logic into yer heads, for indeed that would be fulfilment of anither text that spakes o' throwin' pparls to pigs. But if ye did know logic, which ye don't, ye would perceive at wanse that the passage I have just quoted naturally devoida itself into two branches. The first involves the givin', that is rationally and syllogistically consithered whit ye ought to do ; and the second involves the

poor; that is the recaivers o' the gifts, or the persons for whom ye ought to do it. First, thin, as to the "givin'." Now, it stands to rason that (as the Scriptur says in some other place) the blind can't lead the blind, because may be they'd fall into the bog holes, poor things, an' get drowned, an' so, altho' there is wonderful kindness to each other among them, it's not to be expected that the poor can give to the poor. No, the givers must be the people who have somethin' to give, which the poor have not. Some o' yc will thry an' get off on this head and say, 'tis glad enough ye'd give, but that really ye can't afford it, Can't ye ? If ye make up yer moinds any [one o' ye to give up only a single glass o' sperrits ivery day o' yer lives, see what it will come to in the cooree of a year, an' it will be more than some o' the well-to-do farmers whom I have in my eye at this blissid moment have had the heart to give me (bad luck to this) during the last twelve months. Why, as little as a penny a day comes to more than thirty shillin's a year, and evin that insignificant thrifle I havn't had from some o' ye that have had the means an' ought to have known bctther. 1 don't want to mintion names, hut, Tom Murphy o' the Glen, I'm afraid I shall be compelled to name ye before the whole congregation some day before long if ye don't pay up yer lawful dues. I. won't say more now upon the subject, as St. Augustine says, " a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse."

Now, the moral of the first part bein' clearly shown—that all who can give ought to give—the nixt branch is whom should it be given to ? The blissid tixt issentially states an' declares—"To the poor." Thin follows the inquiry—'' who is the poor ?" The whole matther depends on that. I dare say, ignorant as ye are, some o' yo will think it's tho beggars an' the cripples an' tho blind travellers who contrive to git thro' tho lingth and bridth o' the country, guided by Providence an' a little dog tied to their fingers by a bit o' string ! No, I don't want to say one word about that sort o' cattle, or to injure them i' their honest callin' God help them ! It's their trade, their istate, their bisness to beg, jist as much as 'tis Pat M'Carthy's bisness to tailor, or Jerry Smith's to make carts, or Tom Shiney's to shoe horses, or Dan Crotther's to make potheen, an' my bisness to preach sarmons, an' save your sowls, ye hathen.

But these ar'nt the poor meant i' the text. They're used to beggin' au' I for one wouldn't be tho man to disturb them i' tho practice o' their profeshun, an' long may it bo a provision, for thim au' their heirs for iver.

May be ye mean sperrited crathns some among ye will say, " It's ourselves is tho poor." Indaad, thin it isn't. Poor cuough an' niggardly enough ye arc. but ye aro not the poor contitnplated i' tho text. Shuro it's yer natur it is, to toil an' to slave; shuro it's what ye're used to. Therefore, if any ono were to give to you he wouldn't be lindin' to tho Lord i' tho sloightest decree, but throwiu' away money as complately, ns if he lint it upon the security o' the land that is kivered by the Lake o' Killaruey

Don't flatter yerselves, any o' ye, that ye are the poor, I can tell ye, ye'ro notlrin' of the sort.

Now, thin, we've found out who should be the givers. There's no mistake about that. Rason and logic unite i' declarin' that ivry ono o' yo—man, woman an' child—shou'd give, an' sthrain a pint to do it liberally, Next, wo havo ascertained that it's the poor who'should recaive what ye givo. Thirdly, we have ascertained who are not the poor. Lastly, we must diskiver who are.

Let aach o' yo pnt on his consitherin cap and think well—. I have paused that you might do it. Dan Cotther is a knowledgeable man compared wi' the bulk o' ye. I wonder whether he has diskiverad " who are the poor :-'' He shakes his head; but there isn't much in that!

Well thin ! Ye give it up ? Ye lave it to me to onlighten ye all ? Larn thin to yer shame its the clargy that are the poor!

Oh !ye percaive it now, do yo ? The light comes through yer thick heads, does it?

Yes ! It's I an' my brithrin is the poor ! We get our bread (coorse enough and dhry enough it usually h) by fillin' ye with sperritual food, an' jnggin' by the congregation dow before mo its ugly mouths ye have to recaiveit. We toil not, neither do we spin, but if Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed betthor than we are, instead o' his been clothed in purple and fine linen its many a time he'd be wearin'a threadbare black coat—whito o' tho names and outo' tho elbows.

Its the opinion o' the most larned rcholars an' doctbers o' Divinity, as laid before tho Council o' Trint, that the thranslation ia not sufficiently exact in regard to this tixt, an' they recommiud that for the word of the " poor " we should put " the clargy." Thus corrected theu the thranslation or tixt would run thus—" He who giv»s to the clargy linds to the Lord"—which is no doubt the pure an' undiluted scriptur. The words o' the tixt bein' thus settled an' yo havin' heard the explanation of it all, now for tho application.

Last Thursday was a week since Bartlemy fair, and I wint down to buy a horso, for this is a largo parish, an' mortification an' frettin' have puffed me up, so that God help mo its little able I am to answer all the sick calls to say nottuV o' stations, weddiu's, and christenin's. Well ! I bought the horse an' it cost mo more than I expected, so there I stood without a penny ia ray pocket after I paid the dealer. It rainod catß an' dogs, an' as I am bo poor I cuu't afford a great coat, I got wot to the skin i' loss than no tirao. Thoro j'o were, scores o' ye i' the public houses with the winders up so that all the world might see yo a' atein' an' dhrinkin' as if it was for a wager ; an' there wasn't one o' ye had the graco to ask Father Front ha' yo got i mouth i' yer face ? An' there I might ha' stood i' tho rain until the blissid hour (that is supposiu' it had continued rainin' until now) if I had'nt been picked up by Mr Mun Roche o' Kildinan —a honest gintlemau an' an hospitable man I must say, ho is a Protectant. Ho took me home with him an' there to ycr etarnal disgrace yo villain's, I got as full as a tick—an' Mun Roche had to send mo home in his own earringe, which is an everlasting shame to all o' yo who belong to the true Church.

Now, I ask, which has carried out this tixt ? Yo, who did not give mo oven a poor tumbler o' punch nt Bartlemy, or Mun Roche who took mo home an' filled me with the best atein' an' dhrinkin ; an sint me to my own house afther that iu his own iligant carriage ? Who best fulfilled the Scriptur ? Who lint to tho Lord by givm' to tho poor olargy ? Remember a time will come when I must give an account o' yo ! What can I Hay thin ? Won't I have to haug down my lioad in shame on ycr account 1 Ton my conscience, it wouldn't much surprise me, unless ye greatly mend yer ways, if Muu Kooho au' you won't have to chang

places on that occasion—he to sit along side o' me, as a fripnd who had thrated the poor clargy well i 1 this world, an' yo in a Biirtin place, which I won't particularly mintion now, except to hint that its precious little frost and snow yo'U have in it; but quite the revarso. However, its never too late to mend ; an' I hope by this day week its quite another Btory I'll have to tell o' yo all.