for instance, whether it be not a harder task to him who is keenly sensitive to the "exceeding sinfulness of sin," than it is to more indifferent observers, to maintain that equable friendliness of deportment which the customs of society demand towards those whose principles and practice he cannot but deeply disapprove; or whether there may not be times in which he may seem guilty of an offensive harshness in the too candid sincerity of his rebukes on the commission of those faults by others, which, in his own case, he would most severely condemn, and the free expression of his real sentiments on which he conceives it would be a mistaken benevolence, if not an act of consummate hypocrisy, to withhold. And these difficulties of which I speak are likely, perhaps, to increase with the enlarging sphere of his kindly charities, and the growing sincerity of his interest in the true welfare of his fellow men. But while thus much is conceded, let us not be misunderstood. The Christian does not pretend to be free from infirmities; so far from this, if there be any peculiar characteristic by which he is more distinguished than another, it is his deep conviction of his own exceeding unworthiness, and of the alarming aggregate of those offences which, in his searching examination of self, like one looking into a dark place, grow up more and more clearly into his sight in proportion to the length and earnestness of his gaze. But it is by false comparisons that Christianity often suffers in the eyes of an undiscerning world. There is a spurious and prevalent philosophy, (and indeed there are principles of a similar tendency embodied in the law of opinion which rules the generality of men,) which would erect a standard of benevolence and brotherly love entirely at variance with the one adopted in the bible. The strictness of the gospel rule, its jealousy of the very appearance of sin,—the searching and penetrating force of its obligations,—are held up in, of course, unfavourable contrast to a species of indifference to right and wrong, and a vague and undistinguishing tenderness to the infirmities of humanity, which, from the pompous character of its professions, has usurped the name of a liberal and enlarged philanthrophy. And the tried and strong, though unpretending, principle of christian love is frequently overlooked amidst the dazzling pretensions of a confused and aimless system, which, in the absence of any determinate choice, would lead us to confound all distinctions, and impartially tolerate all abominations alike, whether they be of creed or practice. So that a want of fixedness of principle and definiteness of opinion, as well as a general apathy to those religious im pressions which must be distinct and strong, or they are utterly valueless, are mistaken for a certain greatness of mind, or for the fulness of a benevolent heart. By persons, therefore, who follow such a standard as this, the Christian's motives must be often misunderstood. It may be, that, while he feels himself a stranger in the world, he may seem too austere sometimes in his estimate of human nature, and too rigid in his comparative indifference to the standard of opinion, and the conventional laws of society. It may be so, even though his lips and his heart breathe and burn with the purest of christian love, for his life itself is a species of condemnation of those whom its superior lustre casts into shade; and the very purity of that spirit which he has borrowed from on high tends to throw him beyond the sphere of the sympathy of those who cannot understand the sensitiveness of his heart, or the intense power of the principles which animate his conduct. But are we, then, to admit that this charge against Christianity is justly founded? Or is the zealous christian deservedly accused of a want of sincere and widely circulating charity? Oh! if they who reason thus could but read the emotions of his inmost heart, how often would they discover under an aspect apparently stern, how often would they find under a voice that was seemingly harsh, the unfeigned solicitude of that real benevolence which would purchase the lasting good of others at the risk even of temporary displeasure! How often, at the root of that miscalled asceticism with which the pilgrims of Christ are charged, would they find a tastlessness for the pleasures of the world, springing from no cold or apathetic indifference, but from the very intensity of those aspiring hopes with which they pant for the prize before them! Nor will the comparison in the text, at least, bear out for a moment such a suspicion as this. The pilgrim, or the stranger, if he is free from the ties of long friendship with those amongst whom he is thrown, is free also, at least, from those common accompaniments of protracted acquaintance, individual prejudice, or personal antipathy. Under the most ordinary circumstances, the mere differences of national manners would scarcely awaken in him a feeling of resentment or dislike. Nay, the earnest and joyful anticipation with which he looks forward to the end of his pilgrimage, far from making him discontented with the details of his journey,-far from leading him to neglect the duties that he owes to those around him, is peculiarly calculated to open his heart, and stimulate and arouse his benevolence. The object he pursues is a pleasing object; the God whom he seeks is a being whom - he adores and loves; the Saviour into whose company he is going is his guardian and his friend; and, therefore, while he never loses sight of the principal end in view, still his pilgrimage is a cheerful and a happy one, still he can give joy and scatter blessings by the way, and not overlook the charms of the present in the powerful attractions of the future. So that we may safely assert of the Christian, in his character as a pilgrim at least, that he finds nothing in that character which impedes the exercise of the precept that bids him "do good to all men." And, while he is thus animated in his feelings towards all men, he finds particular reasons in that situation for completing the remainder of the commandment which bids him do so 'especially to them which are of the household of faith."* There is a peculiar bond of fellow feeling, in the view of the question I have been endeavouring to illustrate, by which the christian brotherhood are held together. is one that may well be compared to that acknowledged and remarkable sympathy by which fellow travellers on the same road, and fellow pilgrims to the same shrine are naturally drawn towards each other. To the stranger in a distant land the very accents of his native tongue are *Galatians vi. 10. It |