inaccessible to those impressions which create apprehension and alarm. That which was most valuable and precious about him he had committed to one who, he was persuaded, was "able to keep it;" he was convinced that he had embarked in the best and most honourable of causes, in the behalf of which it was glorious to suffer and die; he believed that it would survive him, and that his sufferings and death, as well as his active services, would contribute to its advancement; he confided in the protection of Him whose cause it was, so long as there remained any thing for him to do in its behalf; he rested assured that, when he had "finished his course, and fought the good fight,” he should "receive a crown of glory which fadeth not away;" and so filled was his soul with these high thoughts and animating feelings, that there was no room left for fear to abide or enter. Often was he "in perils" of every kind, but in the midst of them he possessed his soul in peace. He descended fearlessly into the arena, to "fight with wild beasts at Ephesus;" when surrounded by infuriated and fanatical mobs, he remained unmoved. On more than one occasion, his temper appears to have been ruffled by the illegal violence of his enemies, and the undutiful conduct of his friends; but we never read of his courage having been shaken, or of his having yielded to an unmanly and unchristian timidity. When urged by those who trembled for the safety of his valuable life, to keep at a distance from danger, his reply was similar to that of the noble-minded governor of Judea― "Should such a man as I flee ?" On his last journey to Jerusalem, to discharge a debt of brotherly love, the premonitions and symptoms of his danger multiplied as he advanced, so that he could no longer resist the impression, that bonds and imprisonments, at least, awaited him; "but none of these things move me," says he; "neither count I my life dear, that I may finish my course with joy, and the ministry that I have received of the Lord to testify the gospel of the grace of God." To face the danger was not so difficult to him as to break from the embraces of his weeping brethren, who threw their bodies in his way to divert him from a journey which they foresaw would prove hazardous to him, and he

was forced to summon up all his courage to effect his escape. "What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? for I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.” * After he fell into the hands of his unnatural countrymen, we find him displaying the coolest and most collected intrepidity in his appearances before governors and kings, and, lastly, before the Roman emperor ;-not only keeping himself from every thing that was pusillanimous in language or demeanour, but avowing his faith and his innocence, defending both with amazing boldness and eloquence, and leaving on the minds of the most partial and unjust of his judges an impression favourable to his cause and to the dignity of his character.

And then, my brethren, you are to observe that his courage was characterised by prudence. It was free from rashness, vaunting, or foolhardiness. He did not, like some enthusiasts, court persecution, throw himself in the way of danger, or neglect or refuse to employ any lawful means of escaping or saving himself from them. When Festus, "willing to do the Jews a pleasure," asked him if he would go up to Jerusalem to be judged, he did not suffer himself to be betrayed into a consent to this proposal by the temptation of making a display of conscious innocence and boldness; but he replied nobly and wisely in language which conveyed a severe, though tacit, reproof of the insidious and dishonourable partiality of his judge: "I stand at Cesar's judgment-seat, where I ought to be judged. To the Jews I have done no wrong, as thou very well knowest. For if I be an offender, or have committed any thing worthy of death, I refuse not to die; but if there be none of those things whereof these accuse me, no man may deliver me unto them. I appeal unto Cesar."+ What a contrast between this and the peevish reply of Festus, who felt himself reproved and humbled in the presence of his injured but dignified prisoner! "Hast thou appealed unto Cesar? unto Cesar shalt thou go." It is thus that men clothed with authority will sometimes make a merit of injus

*Acts, xxi. 13.

† Acts, xxv. 9-11.

tice, and try to conceal the littleness of their mind by drawing themselves up on their chair of state, without reflecting that the concealment is seen through by those who pity more than they despise them.

Independence of mind is a still rarer quality than intrepidity. How many are the avenues, besides that of fear, by which corruption may enter the mind, and lower its tone and deteriorate its virtue! Pride may prove in some cases an antidote to timidity. But a stronger and more incorruptible guard is required to bar the entrance of the desire which all, and especially those who have been long harassed and tossed, feel for ease and quiet-of partiality to friends, an anxiety to gratify those whom we esteem and to whom we have been indebted, and deference to public opinion and the authority of those who are held in reputation by the wise and good. To disinterestedness our apostle had added a strict training and mental discipline. He had "learned in whatsoever condition he was, therewith to be content." He was accordingly independent of external circumstances, neither buoyed up by prosperity nor depressed by adversity, blinded by favours nor biassed by injuries, elated by honour nor cast down by disgrace.

The love of fame and desire of distinction has in every age prompted men to engage in the most fatiguing and hazardous enterprises. It was this passion which contributed to form the characters of those who were so highly celebrated in Greece and Rome as heroes and patriots. An attentive consideration of their conduct may convince us that the "immense desire of glory" held a higher place in their breast than the boasted love of country. Nor were they singular in this. To find a man who is "good without show" has been always easier than to discover one who is "above ambition great." Yet no man is truly great in whom this passion is paramount. It is of a more refined nature indeed than the sordid love of gain, but still it is selfish, and therefore low. The love of what is great, and not the desire of being thought great, constitutes greatness, and a thirst for applause argues a defect and emptiness in the breast in which it resides. Nor can any man be truly independent whose governing principle

is the desire of fame. He is a slave to those on whose good opinion his highest enjoyment depends-a slave, not to one, but to thousands. He must study to please them, and shape all his actions, not according to his own judgment, but theirs, and thus be under continual temptation to violate truth and sacrifice a good conscience. Paul was not indifferent to the opinion of the wise and good. He "commended himself to every man's conscience in the sight of God." He bestowed praise on others, and therefore could not despise it in his own person. But he aimed at something higher and nobler. The glory of God, the honour of Christ, the propagation of truth and holiness, the eternal salvation of his fellow-men, fidelity to the trust committed to him, the future approbation of his Divine Master, the reward which he would confer on him, and the testimony of his own conscience, occupied, all of them, a higher place in his regards than the approbation and applause of the world. He had too much good sense not to perceive that by embarking in the cause of Christianity he had baulked all reasonable hopes of obtaining this, and he did not seek to compensate for the loss of it by courting the favour of his new friends. Listen to the appeal which he makes to the Galatians: "Do I now persuade" (conciliate the favour of) "men or God? or do I seek to please men? For if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ." And his protestation to the Thessalonians : "As we were allowed to be put in trust with the gospel so we speak, not as pleasing men, but God, who trieth our hearts; for neither at any time used we flattering words, as ye know, nor a cloak of covetousness, God is witness nor of men sought we glory, neither of you nor yet of others."+ Hence it came about that he moved forward in a straight course in the discharge of his public duty, without being drawn to the right hand or to the left by the desire of securing the favour or declining the displeasure of men. Hence he continued to "tell the truth" at the expense of being "counted an enemy" by those who had held him in the highest estimation, and "shunned not to declare the whole

* Gal. i. 10.

† 1 Thess. ii. 4-6.

counsel of God, keeping nothing back," however offensive or ungrateful it might be to some of the hearers. Hence he was kept from imitating those who "corrupted the word of God," and from adopting any of their disingenuous methods for removing or lessening" the offence of the cross" in the eyes of the world, which was "crucified" to him and he to it. Hence he was under no temptation of acting on the system of pious frauds for advancing a good cause, but pronounces its fundamental principle damnable. Hence he withstood to the face such as were" pillars" of the church, and rebuked the most honoured of his brethren when they "walked not with a straight foot; " while, on the other hand, neither the ingratitude of his friends, nor the inveterate hostility of his adversaries, prevented him from praying and labouring for their salvation.

Yet his independence was not that of selfishness, pride, or affectation. He was condescending and indulgent to the meanest and weakest individual. In all things consistent with truth and duty, he endeavoured to "please not himself, but others, for their good to edification." Every thing recorded of him justifies the striking description which he has transiently given of this part of his character: "Though I be free from all men, yet have I made myself servant unto all, that I might gain the more. He had before reminded the Corinthians, that he “had not used the power" by which he might justly have claimed support from them; and now he informs them, that the freedom which he had acquired by such conduct he willingly laid at their feet, that he might promote their salvation. Here you have conscious power combined with cheerful selfdenial, a noble freedom with the most rational subjection, the strictest independence with the most amiable indulgence. This is Christian virtue, this is true magnanimity. .

We are

5. His heart was tender, and his affections warm. apt to regard a person of great talents with that species of cold thrilling admiration with which we look up to a mountain whose lofty summit is perpetually covered with ice and snow.

1 Cor. ix. 19.