tered, even from our cradles. The caresses of parents, and the blandishments of friends, transmute us into idols. A man must buffet long with the world, ere he learns to estimate himself, according to his real importance in society. He is obliged to unlearn much of what he has been told by those, who, in flattering him, have long been used to flatter themselves. And when, at last, he learns to compare himself with others, to correct his false estimates, and to acquiesce in the rank, which society assigns him, he is assisted, not by the kind admonitions of friends, not by the instructions of those, who take an affectionate interest in his character; but he must gather it from the cold indifference of some, from the contempt and scorn of others; he must be taught it by the bitterness of disappointment, and the rudeness of superiority, or the smiles of exulting malice.

This leads us to the last difficulty, which we shall mention, as preventing our forming a correct estimate of our own characters. We fondly imagine, that no one can know us as well as we know ourselves; and that every man is interested to depreciate, even when he knows, the worth of another. Hence, when reproved, we cannot admit, that we have acted amiss. It is much more easy to conclude, that we have been misrepresented by envy, or misunderstood by prejudice, than to believe in our ignorance, incapacity, or guilt. Nothing, also, more directly tends to swell into extravagance a man's opinion of his moral or intellectual worth, than to find, that his innocence bas, in any instance, been falsely accused, or his powers inadequately estimated. In short, unless a person has been long accustomed to compare himself with others, to scrutinize the motives of his conduct, to meditate on the occurrences of his life, to listen to, nay, even to court the admonitions of the wise and good, and to hearken to the language of calumny it

self, he may pass through life intimate with every heart, but that which beats in his own bosom, a stranger in no mansion so much as his own breast.

Notwithstanding the difficulties, which oppose themselves to the forming of an impartial judgment of ourselves a good degree of self-knowledge, however, is not unattainable. When we shall have considered, secondly, its advantages, perhaps we shall be encouraged to enter with vigour on this new course of study. You may, at first, find the investigation difficult. You will, no doubt, make many unpleasant discoveries. Entering on a region, which you have never explored, a full prospect of your heart, if it could be presented at one view, must surprise and appal you. But proceeding, step by step, in the survey, though you will find, at first, many dark and narrow defiles, many hidden and dangerous pit-falls, many spectacles of unexpected deformity, yet, if you regularly, carefully, and perseveringly pursue the investigation of yourself, the prospect will, at last, brighten, the region will become more open and level, and your progress, at last, smooth, easy, and delightful. To encourage you, then, in this inspection of yourselves, we observe,

1. That an intimate knowledge of ourselves is absolutely necessary to the security and improvement of our virtue and holiness. It is true, that a good man may be ignorant of his own comparative worth; but no good man is ignorant of his own absolute defects. He, who is unacquainted with those portions of his character, in which reformation is most needed, will never make any progress in virtue, for empty wishes and indefinite desires of improvement alone cannot make us better. To be stationary in religion, morals, knowledge or capacity is impossible; and the character, which does not improve, will infallibly degenerate. If, then, you would secure the conquests, which, with the blessing of God,

you may have already attained over the enemies of your virtue, you must endeavour to place a guard at every gate, a sentinel in every watch-tower; you must visit all the weak places of your hearts, mark them, and place there a stronger force; you must be aware of every stratagem, and watchful of every symptom of defection, or remissness.

2. The knowledge of ourselves would preserve us from much of the calumny, the censure, and the contempt of others. If we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged. When we look round upon the judgments of men, we shall find, that most of the severity, ridicule, and reproach of the world is bestowed upon what are called follies, rather than upon vices. We laugh at vanity, oftener than we censure pride. We condemn mistakes with asperity, where we pass over sins with gentleness. Conceited ignorance, ostentatious parade, blind zeal, and glaring absurdity are treated by the world at large with greater severity, than open profligacy, sensuality, and crime. Against the contempt, which pursues such qualities, self-knowledge will effectually guard us. He, who thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, deceiveth himself, says the apostle; he deceives not others. But he, who thinks of himself soberly, even as he ought to think, will seldom be mortified by the contempt, or degraded by the derision of the public.

3. A man, who knows himself, will know more of others, than one who boasts of studying mankind by mixing with all their follies and vices. Man has often been termed a little world, a world in miniature; and every individual is an epitome, perhaps, of the society, in which he lives. In general, we are impelled by similar passions, and occasionally engaged in similar pursuits. The same temptations assail, the same artifices deceive, the same motives impel us, though with various success, and unequal

repetition. He, who has been accustomed to watch the motions of his own mind, and to scrutinize the character of his own actions, will, in general, judge with more justice, and always with more candour, of the conduct of others, than any of those, who value themselves on their knowledge of life. There is something, which passes in the world for penetration and sagacity, which consists in always finding fault, where fault may be found; in suspecting baseness, when integrity is not clear; in condemning without scruple, where others hesitate to decide; and in predicting the worst, when the prudent doubt, or the timid are alarmed. But the man, who knows himself, will be ready to pardon mistakes, to conceal absurdities, to inform ignorance, to pity folly, and to account, at least, for vices, which he cannot excuse. When he censures, he censures qualities in others, which he has not failed to reproach in himself; and when he applauds, he applauds what he knows how to value, either from the struggles, which it has cost him to acquire it, or from the wretchedness, which he suffers from its absence. He will not strike without mercy, who feels himself the tingling of every stroke. It is ignorance of ourselves only, which makes us the libellers, or the self-constituted judges of others.

4. Self-knowledge will preserve us from being deceived by flattery, or overborne by unmerited censure. The language of adulation sounds in the ears of a man, who knows himself, like the language of reproach. He receives it, as a gentle admonition of what he ought to be, rather than as a description of what he is. He is humbled, rather than elated by extravagant praise; and is disposed to pity the ignorance, or suspect the designs of the man, who, whenever he approaches him, holds out a compliment, or whispers an encomium. Even when he is sensible, that, in any instance, he merits approbation, yet, when he considers

his innumerable deficiencies, failings, wants, unknown to all but himself, the praise, which he receives, seems to him to have little more foundation, than the enthusiastic anticipations, which travellers sometimes express of a country, which they have never seen, where they expect a cloudless sky, a temperate climate, a luxuriant soil, a happy people; but, upon exploring which, they find the same vicissitudes of weather, as at home, similar ravages of disease, similar miseries of poverty, and equal, though different vices, prejudices and defects of society. The man, too, who knows himself, learns to bear reproach. If he knows, that it is merited, he is silent, but suffers not the opportunity of improvement to escape him. He puts on no empty airs of resentment, or affected surprise. If it is unmerited, he can look up, with humble eye, to heaven, and say, My record is on high; or, if he suspects himself, he will ask, like the anxious disciples, Lord, is it I?

5. He, who examines himself, will learn to profit by instruction. Philosophy and revelation, moralists and friends, the press and the pulpit, are perpetually holding up characters for our detestation, and yet we profit not by the picture, we see not the resemblance, till some Nathan, bolder than the rest, exclaims, Thou art the man. Then we turn round in surprise, and wonder at the insolence of the prophet. We attend upon the public institutions of religion. The preacher portrays a character. We listen and admire. We recall the picture. What prominence of figure; what liveliness of expression; what strength of colouring! We are asked, for whom it was intended. In a moment we answer, it is this man. Does it resemble no other? Yes. And we instantly point, with much complacency, to a second, and a third, and then sit down in unsuspecting possession of the original. O Lord,