withdraw from all associations with bad men, with persons either of licentious principles or of disorderly conduct. I have shewn to what issue such dangerous connexions are apt to bring men at last. Nothing, therefore, is of more importance for the young, to whom I now chiefly address myself, than to be careful in the choice of their friends and companions. This choice is too frequently made without much thought, or is determined by some casual connexion; and yet very often the whole fate of their future life depends upon it.-The circumstances which chiefly attract the liking and the friendship of youth, are vivacity, good humour, engaging manners, and a cheerful or easy temper; qualities, I confess, amiable in themselves, and useful and valuable in their place. But I entreat you to remember, that these are not all the qualities requisite to form an intimate companion or friend. Something more is still to be looked for; a sound understanding, a steady mind, a firm attachment to principle, to virtue, and honour. As only solid bodies polish well, it is only on the substantial ground of these manly endowments, that the other amiable qualities can receive their proper lustre. Destitute of these essential requisites, they shine with no more than a tinsel brilliancy. It may sparkle for a little, amidst a few circles of the frivolous and superficial; but it imposes not on the discernment of the public. The world in general seldom, after a short trial, judges amiss of the characters of men. You may be assured, that its character of you will be formed by the company you frequent; and how agreeably soever they may seem to be, if nothing is to be found among them but hollow qualities, and external accomplishments, they soon fall down into the class, at best of the insignificant, perhaps of the worthless, and you sink, of course, in the opinion of the public, into the same despicable rank. Allow me to warn you, that the most gay and pleasing are sometimes the most insidious and dangerous companions; an admonition which respects both the sexes. Often they attach themselves to you from interested motives; and if any taint or suspicion lie on their character, under the cover of your rank, your fortune, or your good reputation, they seek protection for themselves. Look around you, then, with attentive eye, and weigh characters well, before you connect yourselves too closely with any who court your society. He that walketh with wise men shall be wise; but a companion of fools shall be destroyed. Wherefore, enter not thou into the council of the scorner. Walk not in the way with evil men; avoid it; pass not by it, turn from it, and pass away. (Prov. iv. 14; xiii. 20.) In order to prevent the influence of evil communications, it is farther needful that you fix to yourself certain principles of conduct, and be resolved and determined on no occasion to swerve from them. Setting the consideration of religion and virtue aside, and attending merely to interest and reputation, it will be found that he who enters on active life without having ascertained some regular plan, according to which he is to guide himself, will be unprosperous in the whole of his subsequent progress. But when conduct is viewed in a moral and religious light, the effect of having fixed no principles of action, in having formed no laudable standard of character, becomes more obviously fatal. For hence it is, that the young and thoughtless imbibe so readily the poison of evil communications, and fall a prey to every seducer. They have no internal guide whom they are accustomed to follow and obey; nothing within themselves that can give firm ness to their conduct. They are, of course, the victims of momentary inclination or caprice; religious and good by starts, when, during the absence of temptation and tempters, the virtuous principle stirs within them; but never long the same; changing and fluctuating according to the passion that chances to rise, or the instigation of those with whom they have connected themselves. They are sailing on a dangerous sea, which abounds with rocks; without compass, by which to direct their course; or helm, by which to guide the vessel. Whereas, if they acted on a system, if their behaviour made it appear that they were determined to conduct themselves by certain rules and principles, not only would they escape innumerable dangers, but they would command respect from the licentious themselves. Evil doers would cease to lay their snares for one whom they saw moving above them, in a higher sphere, and with a more steady course. As a farther corrective of evil communications, and as a foundation to those principles which you lay down for conduct, let me advise you sometimes to think seriously of what constitutes real enjoyment and happiness. Your days cannot be entirely spent in company and pleasure. How closely soever you are surrounded and besieged by evil companions, there must be some intervals in which you are left by yourselves; when, after all the turbulence of amusement is over, your mind will naturally assume a graver and more passive cast. These are precious intervals to you if you knew their value. Seize that sober hour of retirement and silence. Indulge the meditations which then begin to rise. Cast your eye backwards on what is past of your life; look forward to what is, probably, to come. Think of the part you are now acting; and of what remains to be acted, perhaps to be suffered, before you die. Then is the time to form your plans of happiness, not merely for the next day, but for the general course of your life. Remember, that what is pleasing to you at twenty, will not be equally so at forty or fifty years of age; and that what continues longest pleasing, is always most valuable. Recollect your own feelings in different scenes of life. Inquire on what occasions you have felt the truest satisfaction; whether days of sobriety, and a rational employment, have not left behind them a more agreeable remembrance, than nights of licentiousness and riot. Look round you on the world; reflect on the different societies which have fallen under your observations; and think who among them appear to enjoy life to most advantage; whether they who, encircled by gay companions, are constantly fatiguing themselves in quest of pleasure, or they to whom pleasure comes unsought in the course of an active, virtuous, and manly life. Compare together these two classes of mankind, and ask your own hearts, to which of them you would choose to belong. If, in a happy moment, the light of truth begin to break in upon you, refuse not admittance to the ray. If your hearts secretly reproach you for the wrong choice you have made, bethink yourselves that the evil is not irreparable. Still there is time for repentance and retreat; and a return to wisdom is always honourable. Were such meditations often indulged, the evil communications of sinners would die away before them; the force of their poison would evaporate; the world would begin to assume in your eyes a new form and shape. Disdain not, in these solitary hours, to recollect what the wisest have said and have written concerning human happiness and human vanity. Treat not their opinions as effusions merely of peevishness or disappointment; but believe them to be what they truly are, the result of long experience, and thorough acquaintance with the world. Consider that the season of youth is passing fast away. It is time for you to be taking measures for an establishment in life; nay, it were wise to be looking forward to a placid enjoyment of old age. That is a period you wish to see; but how miserable when it arrives, if it yield you nothing but the dregs of life; and present no retrospect, except that of a thoughtless and dishonoured youth. Let me once more advise you to look forward sometimes beyond old age; to look to a future world. Amidst evil communications, let your belief, and your character as Christians arise to your view. Think of the sacred name in which you were baptized. Think of the God whom your fathers honoured and worshipped; of the religion in which they trained you up; of the venerable rites in which they brought you to partake. Their paternal cares have now ceased. They have finished their earthly course; and the time is coming when you must follow them. You know that you are not to live always here; and you surely do not believe that your existence is to end with this life. Into what world, then, are you next to go? Whom will you meet with there? Before whose tribunal are you to appear? What account will you be able to give of your present trifling and irregular conduct to Him, who made you?-Such thoughts may be treated as unseasonable intrusions. But intrude they sometimes will, whether you make them welcome or not. Better, then, to allow them free reception when they come, and to consider fairly to what they lead. You have seen persons die; at least you have heard of your friends dying near you. Did it never enter into your minds, to think what their last reflections probably were in their concluding moments; or what your own, in such a situation, would be? What would be then your hopes and fears; what part you would then wish to have acted; in what light your closing eyes would then view this life, and this world? These are thoughts, my friends, too important to be always excluded. These are things too solemn and awful to be trifled with. They are superior to all the ridicule of fools. They come home to every man's bosom; and are entitled to every man's highest attention. Let us regard them as becomes reasonable and moral creatures; and they will prove effectual antidotes to the evil communications of petulant scoffers. When vice or folly arise to tempt us under flattering forms, let the serious character which we bear as men come also forward to view; and let the solemn admonitions with which I conclude, sound full in our ears: My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. Come out from amongst them, and be separate. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth. Fear the Lord, and depart from evil. The way of life is above to the wise; and he that keepeth the commandment, keepeth his own soul. (Prov. i. 10; 2 Cor. vi. 17; Eccles. xii. 1; Prov. xv. 24.) SERMON XXXVII. ON FORTITUDE. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear. Psal. xxvii. 3. THIS world is a region of danger, in which perfect safety is possessed by no man. Though we live in times of established tranquillity, when there is no ground to apprehend that an host shall, in the literal sense, encamp against us; yet every man, from one quarter or other, has somewhat to dread. Riches often make to themselves wings and flee away. The firmest health may in a moment be shaken. The most flourishing family may unexpectedly be scattered. The appearances of our security are frequently deceitful. When our sky seems more settled and serene, in some unnobserved quarter gathers the little black cloud, in which the tempest ferments, and prepares to discharge itself on our head. Such is the real situation of man in this world; and he who flatters himself with an opposite view of his state, only lives in the paradise of fools. In this situation, no quality is more requisite than constancy, or fortitude of mind; a quality which the Psalmist appears, from the sentiment in the text, to have possessed in an eminent degree. Fortitude was justly classed, by the ancient philosophers, among the cardinal virtues. It is indeed essential to the support of them all; and it is most necessary to be acquired by every one who wishes to discharge with fidelity the duties of his station. It is the armour of the mind, which will fit him for encountering the trials, and surmounting the dangers, that are likely to occur in the course of his life. It may be thought, perhaps, to be a quality, in some measure, constitutional; dependant on firmness of nerves, and strength of spirits. Though, partly, it is so, yet experience shews that it may also be acquired by principle, and be fortified by reason; and it is only when thus acquired, and thus fortified, that it can be accounted to carry the character of virtue. Fortitude is opposed, as all know, to timidity, irresolution, a feeble and a wavering spirit. It is placed, like other virtues, in the middle between two extremes; standing at an equal distance from rashness on the one hand, and from pusillanimity on the other. In discoursing on this subject, I propose, first, to shew the importance of fortitude or constancy; next, to ascertain the grounds on which it must rest; and lastly, to suggest some considerations for assisting the exercise of it. I. The high importance of forti. tude will easily appear, if we consider it as respecting either the happiness of human life, or the proper discharge of its duties. Without some degree of fortitude there can be no happiness; because, amidst the thousand uncertainties of life, there can be no enjoyment of tranquillity. The man of feeble and timorous spirit lives under perpetual alarms. He foresees every distant danger, and trembles. He explores the regions of possibility, to discover the dangers that may arise. Often he creates imaginary ones; always magnifies those that are real. Hence, like a person haunted by spectres, he loses the free enjoyment even of a a safe and prosperous state. On the first shock of adversity, he desponds. Instead of exerting himself to lay hold on the resources that remain, he gives up all for lost; and resigns himself to abject and broken spirits.On the other hand, firmness of mind is the parent of tranquillity. It enables one to enjoy the present without disturbance; and to look calmly on dangers that approach, or evils that threaten in future. It suggests good hopes. It supplies resources. It allows a man to retain full possession of himself, in every situation of fortune. Look into the heart of this man, and you will find composure, cheerfulness, and magnanimity. Look into the heart of the other, and you will see nothing but confusion, anxiety, and trepidation. The one is a castle built on a rock, which defies the attacks of surrounding waters. The other is a hut placed on the shore, which every wind shakes, and every wave overflows. If fortitude be thus essential to the enjoyment of life, it is equally so to the proper discharge of all its most important duties. He who is of a cowardly mind, is, and must be, a slave to the world. He fashions his whole conduct according to its hopes and fears. He smiles, and fawns, and betrays, from abject considerations of personal safety. He is incapable of either conceiving or executing any great design. He can neither stand the clamour of the multitude, nor the frowns of the mighty. The wind 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, no 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 professions, as such, requires him to be superior 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 U |