faithful to his friends, generous to his enemies, warm with compassion to the unfortunate; self-denying to little private interests and pleasures; but zealous for public interests and happiness; magnanimous, without being proud; humble, without being mean; just, without being harsh; simple in his manners, but manly in his feelings; on whose word you can entirely rely; whose countenance never deceives you; whose professions of kindness are the effusions of his heart; one, in fine, whom, independent of any views of advantage, you would choose for a superior, could trust in as a friend, and could love as a brother:-This is the man, whom in your heart, above all others, you do, you must, honour.

Such a character, imperfectly as it has now been drawn, all must acknowledge to be formed solely by the influence of steady religion and virtue. It is the effect of principles which, operating on conscience, determine it uniformly to pursue whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise. (Phil. iv. 8.) By those means, wisdom, as the text asserts, bringeth us to honour.

In confirmation of this doctrine, it is to be observed, that the honour which man acquires by religion and virtue is more independent and more complete, than what can be acquired by any other means. It is independent of any thing foreign or external. It is not partial, but entire respect which it procures. Wherever fortune is concerned, it is the station or rank which commands our deference. Where some shining quality attracts admiration, it is only to a part of the character that we pay homage. But when a person is distinguished for eminent worth and goodness, it is the

man, the whole man, whom we respect. The honour which he possesses is intrinsic. Place him in any situation of life, even an obscure one; let room only be given for his virtues to come forth and shew themselves; and you will revere him as a private citizen, or as the father of a family. If in higher life he appear more illustrious, this is not owing merely to the respect created by rank. It is, because there a nobler sphere of action is opened to him; because his virtues are brought forth into more extended exertion; and placed in such conspicuous view, that he appears to grace and adorn the station which he fills. Even in the silence of retirement, or in the retreat of old age, such a man sinks not into forgotten obscurity; his remembered virtues continue to be honoured, when their active exertions are over; and to the last stage of life he is followed by public esteem and respect. Whereas, if genuine worth be wanting, the applause which may have attended a man for awhile, by degrees dies away.

-Though, for a part of his life, he had dazzled the world, this was owing to his deficiency in the essential qualities having not been suspected. As soon as the imposture is discovered, the falling star sinks in darkness.— There is, therefore, a standard of independent, intrinsic worth, to which we must bring in the end whatever claims to be honourable among men. By this we must measure it; and it will always be found, that nothing but what is essential to man has power to command the respect of man's heart.

It is to be farther observed, that the universal consent of mankind in honouring real virtue, is sufficient to show what the genuine sense of human nature is on the subject. All other claims of honour are ambulatory and changeable. The degrees of respect paid to external stations vary with forms of government, and fashions of the times. Qualities which in one

country are highly honoured, in another are lightly esteemed. Nay, what in some regions of the earth distinguishes a man above others, might elsewhere expose him to contempt or ridicule. But where was ever the nation on the face of the globe who did not honour unblemished worth, unaffected piety, steadfast, humane, and regular virtue? To whom were altars erected in the heathen world, but to those whom their merits and heroic labours, by their invention of useful arts, or by some signal acts of beneficence to their country, or to mankind, were found worthy, in their opinion, to be transferred from among men, and added to the number of the gods? Even the counterfeited appearances of virtue, which are so often found in the world, are testimonies to its praise. The hypocrite knows that, without assuming the garb of virtue, every other advantage he can possess is insufficient to procure him esteem. Interference of interest, or perversity of disposition, may occasionally lead individuals to oppose, even to hate, the upright and the good. But however the characters of such persons may be mistaken or misrepresented, yet, as far as they are acknowledged to be virtuous, the profligate dare not traduce them. Genuine virtue has a language that speaks to every heart throughout the world. It is a language which is understood by all. In every region, every clime, the homage paid to it is the same. In no one sentiment were ever mankind more generally agreed.

Finally, the honour required by religion and virtue is honour divine and immortal. It is honour, not in the estimation of men only, but in the sight of God; whose judgment is the standard of truth and right; whose approbation confers a crown of glory that fadeth not away. All the honour we can gain among men is limited and confined. Its circle is narrow. Its

duration is short and transitory. But the honour, which is founded on true goodness, accompanies us through the whole progress of our existence. It enters with man into a future state; and continues to brighten throughout eternal ages. eternal ages. What procured him respect on earth, shall render him estimable among the great assembly of angels and spirits of just men made perfect; where, we are assured, they who have been eminent in righteousness shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever. (Dan. xii. 3.) Earthly honours are both short-lived in their continuance, and, while they last, tarnished with spots and stains. On some quarter or other, their brightness is obscured; their exaltation is humbled. But the honour which proceeds from God and virtue, is unmixed and pure. It is a lustre which is derived from heaven; and is likened in Scripture, to the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; to the light which shineth more and more unto the perfect day. (2 Sam. xxiii. 4; Prov. iv. 18.) Whereas the honours which the world confers, resemble the feeble and twinkling flame of a taper; which is often clouded by the smoke it sends forth; is always wasting, and soon dies totally away.

Let him, therefore, who retains any sense of human dignity; who feels within him that desire of honour, which is congenial to man, aspire to the gratification of this passion by methods which are worthy of his nature. Let him not rest on any of those external distinctions which vanity has contrived to introduce. These can procure him no more than the semblance of respect. Let him not be flattered by the applause which some occasional display of abilities may have gained him. That applause may be mingled with contempt. Let him look to what will dignify his character as a man. Let him cultivate those moral qualities

Wisdom shall then give to his head an ornament of grace, a crown of glory shall she deliver to him. This is an honour to which all may aspire. It is a prize, for which every one, whether of high or low rank, may contend. It is always in his power so to distinguish himself by worthy and virtuous conduct, as to command the respect of those around him; and what is highest of all, to obtain praise and honour from God.

Let no one imagine that in the religious part of this character there is any thing which casts over it a gloomy shade, or derogates from that esteem which men are generally disposed to yield to exemplary virtues. False ideas may be entertained of religion; as false and imperfect conceptions of virtue have often prevailed in the world. But to true religion there belongs no sullen gloom; no melancholy austerity, tending to withdraw men from human society, or to diminish the exertions of active virtue. On the contrary, the religious principle, rightly understood, not only unites with all such virtues, but supports, fortifies, and confirms them. It is so far from obscuring the lustre of a character, that it heightens and ennobles it. It adds to all the moral virtues a venerable and authoritative dignity. It renders the virtuous character more august. To the decorations of a palace, it joins the majesty of a temple. He who divides religion from virtue, understands neither the one nor

which consummates the human character and state. It is their union which has distinguished those great and illustrious men, who have shone with so much honour in former ages; and whose memory lives in the remembrance of succeeding generations. It is their union which forms that wisdom which is from above; that wisdom to which the text ascribes such high effects; and to which belongs the sublime encomium given of it by an author of one of the apocryphal books of Scripture; with whose beautiful and emphatical expressions I conclude this discourse:-The memorial of virtue is immortal. It is known with God, and with men. When it is present, men take example at it; and when it is gone, they desire it: It weareth a crown, and triumpheth for ever; having gotten the victory, striving for undefiled rewards. Wisdom is the breath of the power of God, and a pure influence flowing from the glory of the Al mighty. Therefore can no defiled thing fall into her. She is the brightness of the everlasting light; the unspotted mirror of the power of God; and the image of his goodness. Remaining in herself, she maketh all things new; and in all ages entering into holy souls, she maketh them friends of God and prophets: For God loveth none but him that dwelleth with Wisdom. She is more beautiful than the sun; and above all the order of the stars. Being compared with light, she is found before it. (Wisdom of Solomon, iv. 2, 3; viii. 25-29.)

men the social duties of life. This is one of the clearest characteristics of its being a religion whose origin

is divine for every doctrine which proceeds from the Father of mercies will undoubtedly breathe benevolence and humanity. This is the scope of the two exhortations in the text, to rejoice with them that rejoice, and to weep with them that weep; the one calculated to promote the happiness, the other to alleviate the sorrows, of our fellow-creatures; both concurring to form that temper which interests us in the concerns of our brethren; which disposes us to feel along with them, to take part in their joys, and in their sorrows. This temper is known by the name of sensibility; a word which, in modern times, we hear in the mouth of every one; a quality which every one affects to possess, in itself a most amiable and worthy disposition of mind, but often mistaken and abused; employed as a cover, sometimes to capricious humour, sometimes to selfish passions. I shall endeavour to explain the nature of true sensibility. I shall consider its effects; and, after shewing its advantages, shall point out the abuses and mistaken forms of this virtue.

The original constitution of our nature with respect to the mixture of selfish and social affections, discovers in this, as in every other part of our frame, profound and admirable wisdom. Each individual is, by his Creator, committed particularly to himself, and his own care. He has it more in his power to promote his own welfare than any other person can possibly have to promote it. It was therefore fit, it was necessary, that in each individual, self-love should be the strongest and most active instinct. This self-love, if he had been a being who stood solitary and alone, might have proved sufficient for the purpose both of his preservation and his welfare. But such is not the situation of man. He is mixed among multitudes of the same nature. these multitudes, the self-love of one

In

man, or attention to his particular interest, encountering the self-love and the interests of another, could not but produce frequent opposition, and innumerable mischiefs. It was necessary, therefore, to provide a counterbalance to this part of his nature; which is accordingly done by implanting in him those social and benevolent instincts which lead him in some measure out of himself, to follow the interest of others. The strength of these social instincts is, in general, proportioned to their importance in human life. Hence that degree of sensibility which prompts us to weep with them that weep, is stronger than that which prompts us to rejoice with them that rejoice; for this reason, that the unhappy stand more in need of our fellow-feeling and assistance than the prosperous. Still, however, it was requisite, that in each individual the quantity of self-love should remain in a large proportion, on account of its importance to the preservation of his life and well-being. But as the quantity requisite for this purpose is apt both to engross his attention, and to carry him into criminal excesses, the perfection of his nature is measured by the due counterpoise of those social principles which, tempering the force of the selfish affection, render man equally useful to himself, and to those with whom he is joined in society. Hence the use and the value of that sensibility of which we now treat.

That it constitutes an essential part of a religious character, there can be no doubt. Not only are the words of the text express to this purpose, but the whole New Testament abounds with passages which enjoin the cultivation of this disposition. Being all one body, and members one of another, we are commanded to love our neighbour as ourself; to look, every man, not on his own things only, but on