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Tirohia ngā kupu whakataki o tēnei niupepa

 
THE RECORDER.

THE LUST FOB GOLD.

Is there an infinite uncreated Being ? Is there a future state ? Is

man an immortal responsible creature ? are questions which every one

in these days of hollow profession and insatiate mammonism should

ask his own heart.

The burning lust for gold evinced by thousands now running hither

and thither, goading one another on in frantic excitement regardless

alike of health and Christian duty, that they may, if possible, in the

unseemly scramble, secure a few handfuls of the precious ore, practi-

cally ignores, or treats with indifference, the solemn fact that man is

personally accountable to that Great Arbiter who will " bring every

work into judgement, with every secret thing whether it be good, or

whether it be evil. "

The possession of money is a blessing, designed to benefit the

human family; but comparatively few, unhappily, are sufficiently wise

to be invested with so grave a responsibility—so important a trust.

Some make a god of gold, hoarding it up till its rust annihilates

every moral principle that ennobles man; and they pass on from the

theatre of their muckering insanity, groping their way through thick

darkness to that world where conscience—long dethroned by the dumb

idol they habitually worshipped, —will regain its supremacy, and ever

after, with terrible severity, assert its potent sway.

Otters expend the gold they amass upon selfish gratifications, being

captivated by " the lust of the eye, and the pride of life; " rejecting

with indifference or disdain the sublime truths of religion. These

are the stalking skeletons of our. species, —the solemn triflers, who,

when about to be despoiled of the " purple and fine linen" they idol-

ize, shrink into their own nothingness, as mere earthworms, writhing

in helpless agony, and withering beneath, the glance of an offended

Deity.

The baneful effects of the love of money are visible on every hand,

having noiselessly crept, not only into the state chambers of the re-

splendent palace, but into the thatched cottage of the labouring poor,

and even into the cheerless hovel of the wayside; beggar.

It is, however, most consolatory to know that a few are left on the

earth; as friendly beacons amidst the deep gloom of civilized worldly

wisdom which, overspreads our globe, who are enabled to maintain the

true dignity of man; and to look with steady gaze into the future—