ports vouchsafed to this imprisoned Saint! Note his state of grace! Observe the perfec

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tion of his faith! How the motion of his spirit was accelerated as it drew nearer to its centre! He, whose deep humility had suggested to him the possibility, that, after converting others, he might himself be rejected: he who had desired not to be unclothed, but to be clothed now declares that he is ready to be offered up, now desires to depart; not in the gentle decay of exhausted nature, not in the weaning languor of a sick bed, not in the calm of a peaceful dissolution, suffering only the pains inseparable from an ordinary death; but he is prepared to meet the hand of violence: he is ready to pour out his blood upon the scaffold; he is longing to join "the souls of them which were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word of God." So far from being dismayed, because he knew that his martyrdom was at hand; he who knew not what it was to boast, yet, knowing in whom he had trusted; feeling his eternal redemption drawing nigh, could exclaim with a holy bravery: "I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith.”

Then, in a rapture of triumphant joy at the mental view of the crown of righteousnes, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, "had prepared for him against the great day," that same unparalleled philanthropy, which he had so con

stantly manifested, breaks out and consecrates a moment, when we might have supposed the immediate nearness of his own unspeakable blessedness would have engrossed his whole soul. His religion was no selfish piety, his hope no solitary salvation. Gratitude swells into its highest transport from the reflection that the Lord Jesus had not exclusively reserved the Crown for him, no, nor for the beloved Timothy, to whom he writes, nor for the multitude of his own friends, nor for the converts who were to be peculiarly "his joy and crown of rejoicing; but "for ALL them also which love his appearing," for all "the redeemed of the Lord" to the end of the world.

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CHAP. XIII.

A GENERAL VIEW OF THE QUALITIES OF SAINT PAUL HIS KNOWLEDGE OF HUMAN NATURE

HIS DELICACY IN GIVING ADVICE OR REPROOF

THERE is in Saint Paul's writings and conduct such a warmth and openness; so much frankness and candour; such an unreserved pouring out of his very soul; such a free disclosure of his feelings, as well as of his opinions; such an elevation, mingled with such a soberness of thinking; so much social kindness, with so much divine love; so much practical activity, with such deep spirituality; so much human prudence, with so much of the wisdom which is from above; so much tenderness for the persons of men, with so little connivance at their faults; so much professional dignity, with so much personal humility, as it would be difficult to find in any other human being.

Yet in all these opposite excellences there is nothing that is not practicable, nothing that is not imitable. His religion, like his morality, has a peculiar sedateness. His ardent feelings betray him into no intemperance of speech, into no inequality of action. His piety is free from eccentricity, his faith from presumption,

Uniformly we find a great reasonablenes in his character; and it adds to his value as an example, that he was, if we may be allowed so familiar an expression, eminently a man of business. His transactions, indeed, always tended to the same end with his devotions and his instructions; he was full of care, but it was the care of all the churches: each day was fully occupied, but it was that same care " which came upon him, not only as a Sunday, but as a daily care.

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The perfection in which he possessed this quality proves that his devotedness had in it nothing of abstraction. He exhibited no contempt of the common usages, no renunciation of the common comforts of life, when the former could with propriety be observed, or the latter be lawfully enjoyed; no coveting of sufferings, when they could be conscientiously avoided. He was no pattern for ascetics, no prototype for Stylites. He bequeathed no example of bodily macerations, nor uncommanded austerities, nor penances unprofitably aiming at atonement. His idea of self-denial was to sacrifice his own will; his notion of pleasing God was to do and suffer the Divine will.

His discretion was scarcely less conspicuous than his zeal: unlike some enthusiastic Christians in the early ages of the Church, who, not contented to meet persecution, invited it; he never sought, whilst he never shrunk from,

danger. Though his life was one continued martyrdom, to which the brief suffering of the stake or the axe would have been a mercy, yet he was contented to live for lengthened services; though he would have finished his course with joy to him self, he was willing to protract it for the glory of God; though he counted not his life dear, yet he knew it to be useful, and therefore desired its continuance.

He was entirely exempt from that indiscreet zeal which seems to glory in provoking the displeasure of the world. He had nothing of that bad judgment, which seeks distinction from singularity. His straight-forward rectitude neither courted the applause nor despised the good opinion of men. He who, in the integrity of his heart, could say, "We sought glory neither of you nor yet of others,” in the tenderness of that heart could say, to the same persons, for "what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing; are not even ye, ye are our glory and joy?

any

He was totally free from irrational confidence in supernatural interpositions. Though living under the influence of the Holy Spirit, he felt no enthusiastic inflation. Though, in his perilous * voyage, assured by an angel of God that there should be no loss of lives, yet he helped with his own hands to throw out the