A Sermon Preached on the Anniversary of the Boston Female Asylum for Destitute Orphans, September 25, 1835

In Short

This sermon serves as a historical document of nineteenth-century social welfare and religious rhetoric. Delivered by a prominent Boston clergyman, it argues that charity should not be a fleeting emotional impulse but a systematic, duty-bound practice guided by discernment and personal engagement. By examining the biblical concept of a "bountiful eye," the author transitions from theological instruction to a practical appeal for the Boston Female Asylum. It remains a poignant record of how early American communities conceptualized their responsibility toward the most vulnerable, blending moral exhortation with an emphasis on institutional stability and local stewardship.

The Story

The discourse begins by establishing a theological foundation for human conduct. The speaker posits that God, while the rightful master of all creation, treats humanity as if it possessed independent agency, offering rewards for the fulfillment of duties that are inherently gratifying. He argues that while the act of giving to the poor provides a "luxury of doing good," true beneficence must transcend mere feeling. It must be elevated to a solemn, principled obligation. He defines this state of mind through the biblical metaphor of the "bountiful eye," distinguishing it from the "evil eye" of the miserly or the indifferent.

Having established the internal requirement for a generous disposition, the argument shifts to the outward practice of charity. The speaker criticizes the superficial habit of giving money simply to escape the annoyance of begging. He contends that this lazy form of alms-giving often exacerbates vice and intemperance rather than alleviating genuine hardship. Instead, he proposes a model of "discriminating watchfulness." A truly benevolent person, he suggests, should dedicate time, counsel, and personal oversight to the poor, effectively adopting them into a sphere of moral responsibility. He suggests that if wealthy families took personal charge of specific impoverished households, the resulting social bond would mitigate the harsh divisions between classes and effectively banish extreme distress.

The narrative then grounds these lofty principles in the specific work of the Boston Female Asylum. The speaker acknowledges that while adult poverty is complex and often clouded by questions of personal vice or systemic failure, the plight of the destitute orphan is unambiguous and sacred. The orphan represents an innocent subject, stripped of natural protection by divine providence, whose condition demands an immediate and unreserved response. He frames the support of this institution as a test of the community’s integrity and a practical repayment to God for the security of their own families.

The conclusion serves as a tribute to the legacy of the asylum’s leadership. The speaker reflects on the recent passing of the institution’s first directress, Mrs. Sarah Parkman, presenting her as a model of the "Christian matron"—unassuming, efficient, and deeply committed to the orphan’s cause. Her life is held up as a bridge between the founding generation and the current Board of Managers. The sermon ends with an urgent plea to the congregation. By invoking the shared vulnerability of parenthood and the hope for future security, the speaker challenges his listeners to look upon the parentless children with sympathy, ensuring that the institution survives the rapid growth and changing pressures of their city.

How It Unfolds

The theology of reward The speaker opens by asserting that God’s commandments are always paired with promises of blessing. He suggests that even the act of charity, while inherently pleasurable, carries a higher purpose as a formal duty to be performed for divine favor.

Defining the bountiful eye Using proverbs as a lens, the author contrasts the "evil eye" of the selfish with the "bountiful eye" of the generous. He argues that true benevolence requires more than just an open hand; it demands industry, discrimination, and a tender heart.

The critique of passive charity The argument moves to address the danger of giving without thought, which can inadvertently feed intemperance. He encourages direct engagement with the poor rather than merely providing funds to anonymous applicants.

The sacred claim of the orphan The focus narrows to the specific mission of the Boston Female Asylum. The speaker argues that while other forms of social aid are complicated by questions of merit, the support of orphaned children is a clear, indisputable obligation for a moral society.

The legacy of service The sermon closes with a memorial to Mrs. Sarah Parkman, an early leader of the asylum. He uses her example to inspire the current managers and to remind the congregation that their own security is a trust to be repaid through continued support.

The People

The speaker, Jonathan Mayhew Wainwright, functions as the moral mediator of the text. He is a man of the cloth, tasked with translating abstract theological concepts into immediate, actionable social policy. He wants his audience to adopt a structured, disciplined approach to giving, moving them away from what he views as the dangerous, sporadic charity of the heart.

Sarah Parkman serves as the symbolic center of the piece. As the deceased first directress of the asylum, she embodies the ideal of the "Christian matron." She is portrayed as a woman of quiet, efficient grace whose life and death serve as the benchmark for those who currently manage the institution. Her existence acts as a living argument for the enduring value of the asylum.

The "Board of Managers" represents the continuity of this mission. They are the audience for the sermon and the current stewards of the organization. Their role is to uphold the standard set by their predecessors, transitioning from a private group of concerned citizens to the administrators of a public good.

The "orphans" themselves are the subjects of the appeal. While they do not speak, their innocence and helplessness provide the emotional and moral weight of the entire discourse. They are presented as the "guileless petitioners" who force the wealthy to confront their own relative prosperity and their obligations as "stewards and almoners of Providence."

In Its Own Voice

The speaker emphasizes the necessity of looking beyond the mere act of giving money to the actual needs of the suffering.

"A liberal hand, signifies merely generosity in giving, but a bountiful eye implies not simply this, but also industry in looking about for objects of distress, and discrimination in the mode of relieving them, and tenderness and kind expressions accompanying our charities."

He cautions the wealthy that their status is not an absolute right, but a conditional trust provided by God.

"Surely then the thoughtful and conscientious man will esteem his possessions, not so much a right which he has obtained as a trust committed to him, and he will acknowledge that the strictest justice approves what religion emphatically demands, that with a bountiful eye we should look upon the poor and destitute."

What It's Really About

At its core, the text is an argument for the professionalization of benevolence. The author is deeply concerned that the "heated" or "momentary" impulses of the wealthy do more harm than good by fostering dependency. He advocates for a shift toward "settled principles," where charity is treated with the same rigor as business or law. Underlying this is a profound anxiety about social order: he views the separation between the affluent and the destitute as a source of mutual corruption, where luxury nurtures selfishness on one side and envy on the other. By linking personal, direct interaction with the poor to the health of the entire social fabric, the book explores how duty, rather than just emotion, sustains a functional, Christian society.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of social welfare, the evolution of religious rhetoric, or the development of nineteenth-century American civic life will find this a fascinating, albeit dense, entry point. The prose is formal and structured, reflecting the high-minded, oratorical style of the 1830s. It offers a clear window into how the pre-welfare-state era balanced individual responsibility with collective institutional care.

Modern readers may find the period attitudes toward poverty and class to be stark and paternalistic; the author’s firm distinction between "deserving" and "undeserving" poor is a hallmark of the era that feels alien to contemporary discourse. There is a distinct intensity to the writing—the author does not simply ask for money, he demands a transformation of the soul. The sermon moves with a measured, deliberate pace, and its length is manageable, providing a contained experience of a bygone rhetorical culture. It is not a light read, but for those who enjoy parsing the underlying ideologies of history, it provides a powerful, unvarnished look at how the institutions we take for granted were built upon the pulpit-thumping moral imperatives of the past. It stays with you as a reminder of how much the language of "charity" has been replaced by the language of "rights" or "services" in the nearly two centuries since its delivery.