of popular favour, or the threats of power, are sufficient to shake his most determined purpose. The world always knows where to find him. He may pretend to have principles; but on every trying occasion, it will be seen, that his pretended principles bend to convenience and safety. The man of virtuous fortitude, again, follows the dictates of his heart, unembarrassed by those restraints which lie upon the timorous. Having once determined what is fit for him to do, no threatenings can shake, nor dangers appal him. He rests upon himself, supported by a consciousness of inward dignity. I do not say that this disposition alone will secure him against every vice. He may be lifted up with pride. He may be seduced by pleasure. He may be hurried away by passion. But at least on one quarter he will be safe; by no abject fears misled into evil.

Without this temper of mind, no man can be a thorough Christian. For his profession, as such, requires him to be superiour to that fear of man which bringeth a snare; enjoins him, for the sake of a good conscience, to encounter every danger; and to be prepared, if called, even to lay down his life in the cause of religion and truth. All who have been distinguished as servants of God, or benefactors of men; all who, in perilous situations, have acted their part with such honour as to render their names illustrious through succeeding ages, have been eminent for fortitude of mind. Of this we have one conspicuous example in the apostle Paul, whom it will be instructive for us to view in a remarkable occurrence of his life. After having long acted as the Apostle of the Gentiles, his mission called him to go to Jerusalem, where he knew

that he was to encounter the utmost violence of his enemies. Just before he set sail, he called together the elders of his favourite church at Ephesus, and in a pathetic speech, which does great honour to his character, gave them his last farewell. Deeply affected by their knowledge of the certain dangers to which he was exposing himself, all the assembly were filled with distress, and melted into tears. The circumstances were such as might have conveyed dejection even to a resolute mind; and would have totally overwhelmed the feeble. They all wept sore, and fell on Paul's neck, and kissed him; sorrowing most of all for the words which he spake, that they should see his face no more. What were then the sentiments, what was the language of this great and good man? Hear the words which spoke his firm. and undaunted mind: Behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there! save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth, in every city, saying, that bonds and afflictions abide me. But none of these things move me; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God. * There was uttered the voice, there breathed the spirit, of a brave and a virtuous man. Such a man knows not what it is to shrink from danger when conscience points out his path. In that path he is determined to walk; let the consequences be what they will. Till I die, I will not remove my integrity from me. My righteousness I hold fast, and will not let it go. My heart shall not

* Acts, xx. 22, 23, 24. 37, 38.

reproach me so long as I live.*

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"For me there is a

"part appointed to act. I go to perform it. My duty I shall do to-day. Let to-morrow take thought for the things of itself." shown the importance, I proceed,

Having thus

II. To show the proper foundations of constancy and fortitude of mind. They are principally two; a good conscience, and trust in God..

A corrupted and guilty man can possess no true firmness of heart. He who, by crooked paths, pursues dishonourable ends, has many things to dismay him. He not only dreads the disappointment of his designs, by some of those accidents to which all are exposed; but he has also to dread the treachery of his confederates, the discovery and reproach of the world, and the just displeasure of Heaven. His fears he is obliged to conceal; but while he assumes the appearance of intrepidity before the world, he trembles within himself; and the bold and steady eye of integrity frequently darts terrour into his heart. There is, it is true, a sort of constitutional courage, which sometimes has rendered men daring in the most flagitious attempts. But this fool-hardiness of the rash, this boldness of the ruffian, is altogether different from real fortitude. It arises merely from warmth of blood, from want of thought, and blindness to danger. As it forms no character of value, so it appears only in occasional sallies; and never can be uniformly maintained. It requires adventitious props to support it; and, in some hour of trial

* Job, xxvii. 5, 6.

always fails. There can be no true courage, no regular persevering constancy, but what is connected with principle, and founded on a consciousness of rectitude of intention. This, and this only, erects that brazen wall, which we can oppose to every hostile attack. It clothes us with an armour, on which fortune will spend its shafts in vain. All is sound within. There is no weak place, where we particularly dread a blow. There is no occasion for false colours to be hung out. No disguise is needed to cover us. We would be satisfied if all mankind could look into our hearts. What has he to fear, who not only acts on a plan which his conscience approves, but who knows that every good man, nay, the whole unbiassed world, if they could trace his intentions, would justify and approve his conduct?

*

He knows, at the same time, that he is acting under the immediate eye and protection of the Almighty. Behold, my witness is in heaven; and my record is on high. Here opens a new source of fortitude to every virtuous man. The consciousness of such an illustrious spectator invigorates and animates him. He trusts, that the eternal Lover of righteousness not only beholds and approves, but will strengthen and assist; will not suffer him to be unjustly oppressed, and will reward his constancy in the end, with glory, honour, and immortality. A good conscience, thus supported, bestows on the heart a much greater degree of intrepidity than it could otherwise inspire. One who rests on an

* Job, xvi. 19.

almighty, though invisible Protector, exerts his powers with double force; acts with vigour not his own. Accordingly, it was from this principle of trust in God, that the Psalmist derived that courage. and boldness which he expresses in the text. He had said immediately before, The Lord is my light and my salvation; the Lord is the strength of my life. The consequence which directly follows is, of whom shall I be afraid? Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear. It remains,

III. THAT I suggest a few considerations which may prove auxiliary to the exercise of virtuous fortitude in the midst of dangers.

From what was just now said, it appears, first, that it is of high importance to every one, who wishes to act his part with becoming resolution, to cultivate a religious principle, and to be inspired with trust in God. The imperfections of the best are indeed so numerous, as to give them no title to claim, on their own account, the protection of Heaven. But we are taught to believe, that the merciful God, who made us, and who knows our frame, favours the sincere and upright; that the supreme administration. of the universe is always on the side of truth and virtue; and that, therefore, every worthy character, and every just and good cause, though for a while it should be depressed, is likely to receive countenance and protection in the end. The more firmly this belief is rooted in the heart, its influence will be more powerful, in surmounting the fears which arise from a sense of its own weakness or danger. The records of all nations afford a thousand remarkable instances of the effect of this principle, both on