unassuming, as well as energetic men of the age just passed, was, Expect great things; attempt great things. Animated by this simple, but noble maxim, he pursued, through a long life, a course of action which has poured unnumbered blessings on the millions of India, and endeared his name to every friend of religion and humanity.

An example of consummate modesty, combined with the boldest enterprise and courage, has been furnished by our own country, in the case of her most illustrious son.. The unaffected reluctance and self-diffidence with which Washington accepted the two highest offices in her gift, could be surpassed only by the commanding power and success with which their diversified duties were executed. And to this moment, the problem remains unsolved, whether as a hero, or a magistrate, he exhibited superior excellence.

But we ascend higher still. The great apostle of the Gentiles was as humble and modest, as he was great. No man more perfectly familiarized the declaration of Jesus to his disciples; Without me, ye can do nothing. Still, we hear him declaring, with more than human courage; I can do all things, through Christ strengthening me. And where is the page of history which records exploits or sacrifices in the cause of Christ, which can bear a comparison with his?

It appears, then, that modesty is not that tame, spiritless, inefficient thing which many seem to imagine it. It is allied to the best and noblest qualities of the human mind and heart. It is a prominent and lovely attribute of some of the most estimable characters which have ever shone forth in our world. A vast proportion of the acknowledged ornaments and benefactors of their species, have been genuinely modest men. A vast proportion of the solid good which has been effected for the interests of human society, has been effected by the unassuming and unpretending part of mankind. We need not except the achievements of science and philosophy. Sciolists and semi-philosophers, it is confessed, have usually been vain, self-sufficient and arrogant. But genuine and thorough-going philosophers, men of finished minds, and finished learning, have been self-diffident and modest. Those who have conversed most intimately with the works of God, and the mysteries of nature, have found little time or inclination to admire themselves, or their works. Those who have pierced the earth, and scaled the stars; who have launched forth on voyages of discovery, into the infinite regions of space, have returned, but to confess the imperfection of their powers, and their acquisitions. Of this we have a fine specimen in the case of the prince of philosophers. While Newton resided at the university, Roger Cotes was there, and a Fellow of the same college with himself. He was of kindred genius and pursuits, and died at the age of thirty-four. Newton, sometime after his death, exclaimed, with his own touching simplicity, "If he had lived we should have known something." What views this wonderful man had of his own powers and attainments, may be gathered from another remark which he made toward the close of his life. "I do not know," said he, "what I may appear to the world; but to myself, I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in, now and then, finding a smoother pebble, or a prettier shell, than ordinary; while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."

When speaking of that modesty which becomes the Christian, and especially the Christian minister, we are arrested by a thought which, if true, is deeply interesting. Modesty is not a mere appendage or ornament of religion; but enters into its very constitution and essence. If, in the Christian professor, modesty is absent, religion itself is absent. If, in this point, there is a flagrant defect, doubt and suspicion are thrown over his whole character. The importance of this thought gives it a claim to a careful development.

All religion has its foundation laid in humility. Humility, too, pervades the superstructure. The representation of the ancient father was scarcely too strong, when he said, in reply to the question, What is the first thing in religion? Humility. What is the second? Humility. What is the third? Humility. The real Christian, by the light of God's spiritual and searching law, has found his own depravity-his deep and utter depravity; his guilt, his ruin, his helplessness, his exposure to the endless wrath of a just God. He has felt a repentance which breaks the heart with unutterable grief for sin, and inspires

it with habitual self-abasement. If he has hope of pardon, that hope centres in atoning blood. Nor does he feel himself less indebted to the power of the Holy Spirit, for a new heart, and for every right disposition. These thoughts are familiar. They are engraved in his inmost heart. Let such a man be proud if he can. But it is impossible. He is laid under necessity, precious, absolute necessity, to be humble. And if humble, then modest. For what is modesty, but humility looking out at the eyes, beaming in the countenance, and spreading itself over the whole deportment?

Further; real religion is progressive; and progress in religion is progress in humility. The Christian does not live, but Christ lives in him. All his attainments in holiness, he owes, not to his own self-originated resolutions, and independent efforts, but to the power and grace of his Master. If these are not facts, the gospel is a set of enigmas; and the Bible, the most unintelligible of books. But the Christian feels these things to be facts. And this feeling is adapted to destroy every root and fibre of pride and self-complacency. If he differs from the vilest of mankind, he ascribes it to sovereign grace. If he makes any advance on his own attainments, he is but the more indebted to the same sovereign grace. Who sees not, then, that every advance of holiness will be an increase of humility and self-abasement?

We may take another view of things. Progress in religion is progress in pious sensibility; in delicacy of spiritual perception, taste and feeling. The advanced Christian takes expanded and elevated views of the beauty and perfection of God, and of the mysteries of his Saviour's love. These views impart a quickened sense of his own personal and infinite obligation; and thus he cannot compare what he has rendered to his God and Saviour with what he was bound to render, but with tenderness and grief. His warmest love appears cold; his tenderest gratitude, a kind of guilty ingratitude. His most ardent devotion seems too languid; and his best obedience, scarcely worthy of the name. The mind which is occupied by such views as these, can find no room for pride, or vanity, or ambition. It can be the abode of no feelings, but those of the most subdued and humble character.

The Christian minister must hold habitual and intimate converse with the Bible. And of all books in the world, the Bible maintains the most determined, uncompromising hostility with human pride. All its doctrines and precepts, all its warnings, promises and threatenings are designed to subdue and eradicate this worst and most pernicious of all the vices of the mind. Especially do those mysteries of Revelation, which baffle our reason, and elude our comprehension, tend to promote modesty of intellect, as well as humility of heart. And there is no man who will fairly put his mind and heart to these sublime mysteries, without finding their auspicious practical influence. They will effectually subdue vanity and pride. They will inspire that humility which is the parent and nurse of every lovely virtue.

The true minister is eminently a man of prayer. And what is prayer, but the immediate approach of a frail, impure, erring child of dust, to the HIGH AND HOLY ONE. Must not such an approach be almost necessarily attended with an entire prostration of spirit? In company with a fellow mortal, a man may too easily find materials for pride, arrogance, and self-sufficiency. But can a man be proud, arrogant, and self-sufficient in the presence of SPOTLESS PURITY, and INFINITE MAJESTY? And must not such an intercourse leave behind it an impress on the mind, the countenance, and whole demeanor? Can the man, or the minister, who is habitually vain, self-conceited, self-satisfied, be a man of prayer? We cannot follow him to his retirement. His closet may reveal no secrets. But does not such a demeanor reveal secrets of the most affecting and appalling kind?

In a word, the true minister of Jesus resembles his Master. If it be true, that without the spirit of Christ no man can be a Christian; it is emphatically true, that without the spirit of Christ no man can be a Christian minister. Learn of me, says the Saviour, for I am meek and lowly. Humility, then, is the first lesson that He teaches. Until this lesson is learned, nothing is learned. A prayerless and profane minister is a solecism indeed. And why not a vain and proud minister too?

We have now had opportunity to perceive that modesty, though confessedly a bright ornament of the Christian character, is not a mere ornament, but rather a constituent part of that character. In other words, we have seen that without it, a man can scarcely be a real Christian; and much less, a consistent and exemplary one. In our discussion we have had in immediate view, the minister of the gospel. In our further remarks on the subject, we shall have a still more particular reference to this order of men.

Let us then glance at some considerations which evince the value and importance of modesty to the Christian minister.

It cannot but exercise a salutary influence on his investigation of truth, and the formation of his religious opinions. Not, as we have seen, that it will impart an indecisive air to his speculations. Not that it will repress the spirit of the freest inquiry. Not that it will preclude the mind from any accessible source of information, or any legitimate instrument of knowledge. But the modest man, in all his inquiries, will bear in mind the imperfection of his faculties, and the necessarily limited sphere of their operation. He remembers that error is often found on the surface, while truth must be sought many degrees below it; that error is artful, insinuating, obtrusive; while truth is simple, modest, and retiring. Above all, he remembers that the Author of truth has established certain boundaries which mortals may not pass; which to transcend, is fraught with numberless evils. These are maxims which are obvious to common sense; but which philosophers and divines have often overlooked. If modern France has proved that the principles of civil and political liberty, when pushed to excess and extravagance issue in folly, madness and ruin; modern Germany has proved that the principles of philosophical investigation may be so perverted and over-done, as to originate the most monstrous errors and absurdities. Many of its metaphysicians and theologists, taking leave of sober reason, and bursting away extra flammantia mania mundi, have found themselves in regions of darkness never before explored. A little common sense, and common modesty, would have saved themselves the disgrace, and the world the annoyance of these deplorable exhibitions. Still, the actual influence of these wandering stars on the interests of religion and literature, has been unspeakably disastrous. So much parade of learning, and affectation of philosophy, combined with so much cold-blooded, heartless infidelity, could not fail to produce wide-spread and destructive effects. The human mind has been unhinged; the most settled principles of belief have been undermined, and the wildest of vagaries have assumed the solemn garb of reason and philosophy. Our own country has sustained a shock in its most vital interests, and especially in its religion. There was a time when the infidelity of Germany under the name of an improved theology, threatened to deluge our land like a flood. And even now, when the evil is somewhat checked at its source, its transmitted and deleterious influence is far from being unfelt in our country. A bold and reckless spirit of speculation, a contempt for long established opinions, and a preference of new error to old truth, are still but too prevalent. While these temptations beset our young ministers and students, and while many are actually ensnared, there are others, it may be confidently believed, who have taken a salutary alarm. Looking through the emptiness of false philosophy, and perceiving the wretched impotence of reason as a religious guide when unaided by light from heaven, they feel the absolute necessity of implicitly submitting the understanding to heavenly illumination, and of seeking religious truth at its divine source. It is in the exercise of this meek and modest spirit alone, that religious truth is found; and here is the only security from the wildest and most pernicious errors. So far as this spirit prevails, ministers become safe and instructive guides to their fellow men. So far as it prevails, the church is the pillar and ground of the truth; the light of a darkened and erring world.

As modesty is thus needful to the minister in forming his religious opinions, it gives a grace to his manner of imparting them. It is admitted that the grand and fundamental truths of religion are perspicuous in themselves, and plain in their evidence. If, on these topics, it is the duty of every Christian to think and speak with decision, it is still more clearly the duty of every minister.

But confidence is not arrogance; nor is decision, dogmatism. There is a harsh, magisterial air in the pulpit, which makes truth seem repulsive; and from the lips of some preachers, grace itself appears ungracious. It is a calm, unobtrusive manner which most unequivocally betokens conviction in the speaker; and it is this manner which is most adapted to beget conviction in the hearer. There is an unaffected, honest deference which a judicious minister knows how to pay to the understanding of his hearers; and this deference is generally paid back with interest. Prejudices and objections often fly before it, which would have stood their ground against severity and dogmatism. All the distinguishing doctrines of the gospel are naturally unwelcome to the human heart. But it is not therefore the less undesirable, that by a harsh, overbearing manner in the delivery, they should be rendered still more repulsive. And if, on the other hand, there are truths, as doubtless there are, which are adapted to soften and to break the most obdurate heart, how important is it, that the mildness and tenderness of their exhibition be such as should give them the fullest, deepest impression.

So long as human hearts retain their depravity, and Christians their imperfections, so long will differences and contrarieties of opinions find their way into the church. These discrepances of opinion will give birth to religious controversy. And how humbling is the thought, that religious controversy is often conducted with greater acrimony than is generally witnessed in the contests of worldly men. And how much more deplorable is it, that the acrimony should frequently be not in direct, but inverse proportion to the importance of the subject debated. Yet such has been too often the case. If in regard to the government of the church, the divine Author of the Bible has given to his followers a degree of latitude, which is probably the case; then it follows, that all bitter disputes as to the form of church government are at once needless, fruitless and wicked. Yet it is by disputes upon these, and other unessential topics, that the church has in every age been agitated, convulsed and torn asunder. These things are the opprobrium of religion, the grief of the pious, and the triumph of the ungodly. When shall such evils be banished? When shall these fires of hell be extinguished? When shall the church witness again that golden era, when Christians loved each other with pure hearts fervently; when the whole multitude of those who believed, were of one heart and of one mind? We answer; when Christians shall imbibe more of the spirit of their meek and lowly Master; when they shall honestly resolve to treat great things as great things, and little things as little things; when, conscious of their own infirmities and errors, they shall treat kindly the infirmities and errors of their brethren; when they shall be modest in their claims, and generous in their concessions. When these revolutions shall take place, the church will arise from her depressions, will cast off her incumbrances, will look forth in beauty and glory, the joy of earth, and the bright resemblance of heaven.

The modesty we are recommending is an important safeguard against a worldly spirit. Than such a spirit, nothing is more inveterately hostile to the power and prosperity of religion. To the Christian minister, it is peculiarly noxious. It cripples his energies, and impairs his usefulness. It even corrodes the vitals of his piety. In every age, it has cast down many wounded. In every nation, its progress has been marked with spiritual desolation and death in the church, and in its ministry. In our own age and country, the dangers from this source are singularly multiplied and alarming. With a fertile soil, a free government, and a rapid advance in the arts and luxuries of living, we have had for years an exuberant tide of wealth and prosperity flowing in upon us. The world has seemed to array itself in new charms, and life to exhibit new attractions. Pleasure, self-gratification, in all their varied forms have become the universal rage. The church has not escaped the contagion. Never, perhaps, in any period or country was the church pervaded by such a spirit of gain, of luxury, and splendor, as in our own at the present time. In this state of the church, the condition of the minister is dangerous and trying in the extreme. What shall prevent his being swept away by the torrent of fashion? What shall save him from plunging into that vortex of worldliness and dissipation,

where dignity of charactor is lost, and ministerial influence is lost, and not unfrequently shipwreck is made of an immortal hope? But these are not the only dangers. He may be precluded by narrowness of circumstances, from running a race with the votaries of wealth and splendor. He may find himself the object of neglect, of pity, or scorn, with those who claim to prescribe the laws of fashion, and the tone of public sentiment. And what shall sustain him in circumstances like these? We answer; in both the cases supposed, the minister has one resort, one refuge. He may find it in a subdued, humble, unaspiring mind; and he can find it no where else. If he has sat at the feet of a lowly Saviour, he has found where real happiness springs. If he has risen to communion with God, he can look down on all which the world thinks elevated and great. If he is enriched with the treasures of the gospel, and may communicate these treasures to others, he is rich to his heart's content. If he has the humble hope of his Saviour's smile, he may well be deaf to the world's applause; and repay its neglect, or scorn, with compassion.

If the spirit of worldliness is disastrous in its influence on the ministerial character, the spirit of ambition is not the less so. Many, indeed, who have been inaccessible to the attractions of wealth and splendor, have been corrupted and destroyed by the love of praise. This passion is as powerful as it is pernicious. Wherever it gains access, it takes possession of the whole soul. It claims to reign supreme, and without a rival. The Deity himself is dethroned. The wretched devotee, withdrawing his worship from his Maker, becomes the worshipper of himself. Nor is he content till the whole church and the whole world unite in the same idolatry, and bow at the same altar. If the question be asked, what is the source of those numberless errors and heresies which have vexed and distracted the Christian church, from age to age, it must be replied, that the grand source of the evil is ambition. Men possessed of some learning, but of still more restlessness, and love of distinction, have perverted the Scriptures. Not content to let them speak their own language, they have invented a language for them. Some novel, but false idea has darted into their own minds; and they have found it in the Scriptures, or forced it upon them. The deviation from truth may at first be small; but as the importance of the new idea becomes identified with their own importance, it soon becomes a great and momentous affair. Every thing in the Bible which remotely countenances the favorite, is sedulously pressed into the service; and every thing of a contrary aspect, as sedulously overlooked. Gradually a new theory arises, which, itself immortal, is to give immortality to its author. But the cause of truth and piety receives a wound; and error and division are perpetuated in the church.

Such has been the origin of error in the past ages of the church. In every age of the church, there is danger that men occupying eminent stations, men ambitious of literary distinction, and not distrustful of their own powers, should substitute the form or semblance of Christianity in the place of its vital essence. And this the more, as it is well known that a plausible counterfeit of the doctrines of the gospel is, to the generality of human hearts, more welcome than those doctrines themselves. Ministers of every description, especially those of the younger class, are exposed to the same snare. It is gratifying to personal vanity, and of this the best have enough, to be uttering one's own novel and showy fancies, rather than those plain, old-fashioned doctrines of the Bible, which have nothing to recommend them, but their everlasting truth, and infinite importance.

But there are other modes in which ambition is displayed and gratified. Let us cast a momentary glance across the Atlantic. Let us contemplate the great British anniversaries, and the manner in which they are conducted. These occasions bring together a considerable portion, not only of the piety and benevolence, but of the taste and fashion, the distinguished nobility, with the dignified and respectable clergy of the metropolis and the nation. Not a few of the speeches are uttered by ministers of the gospel. These speeches are often prepared with much care; they are highly ornamented-surcharged, indeed, with flowers of rhetoric, and flights of imagination. The speakers frequently compliment each other in no very measured terms. Their speeches are generally received by the audience with emphatic expressions of approba