that to act upon steady principle and settled conviction, to disregard public opinion when conscience and religion pronounce it erroneous, is the sublimest attainment of terrestrial virtue. But, uniformily to set at defiance the concurring sentiments of mankind, to be on all occasions indifferent to their censure or applause, is surely an assumption of superiority which no degree of limited excellence can justify, and which the consciousness of imperfection should always forbid. As fallible beings, one of our first duties is to be convinced of our fallibility. Whatever advances we may have made in wisdom and in virtue, we should remember that it is impossible here to escape beyond the reach of error and of sin; that we are still liable to be misled by prejudice, and blinded by self-love. Instead, therefore, of trusting too implicitly to our own judgment of ourselves, we should be ready to listen to the more impartial opinion of others, who are willing, from whatever motive, to admonish and direct us. approbation, when echoed by our own conscience, should encourage us to advance with steadiness and alacrity; and when, by their reproof, we are warned of our deviations from the path of duty, we should never be reluctant to return. There is not a more insurmountable obstacle to improvement, than that callous insensibility which cannot be affected by the opinion of others; or that vain self-sufficiency, which professes to be superior to censure or to praisewhich spurns advice, and is impatient of control.

Their

"Seest thou a man who is wise in his own conceit ? There is more hope of a fool than of him." He who, from natural dulness, is insensible to praise or blame, will never rise to eminence and esteem. He, who has wilfully quenched in his own breast the ardour of ingenuous ambition, and taught himself to despise the opinion of others, is not far from infamy and crime. But he, who burns with the enthusiasm of emulation, and has a quick sensibility to honour and to shame, he is most likely to shun the sordid paths of meanness and of vice, to climb the steepest ascents of virtue, and to shine conspicuous among the excellent ones of the earth.

Such are the beneficial effects which the love of praise, when properly regulated, is calculated to produce. But there are certain limits, beyond which it cannot be indulged without the most pernicious consequences. When it forms the principal, or the only motive of our conduct-when it ceases to be controlled by reason and religion when it inclines us to love the praise of men, more than the praise of God-it then becomes criminal and hurtful, degrading to our character, and hostile to our highest interests as rational and immortal beings. Let us now, therefore, attend to the bad effects of an immoderate and exclusive desire of the praise of men; and contrast these effects with the happy conse quences that flow from a habitual regard to the approbation of God.

$1An immoderate and exclusive desire of the

praise of men is altogether incompatible with sincerity of character. Our character will always correspond with the motives by which we are influenced. If, then, our only desire be to obtain the praise of men, our solicitude will be wholly confined to our external deportment. Since men can regard the outward appearance alone-since the recesses of the heart are impenetrable to their inspection, our actions form the only criterion by which they can judge of our principles-and thus the praise of virtue may be gained by assuming its resemblance. By those, therefore, who can be satisfied with praise, the secret virtues of the heart will, in general, be neglected. For why should they be anxious to overcome their vices, while their purpose may be as effectually served by disguising them? Or why should they aspire to the possession of genuine worth, while their credit may be equally established by its counterfeit? It is enough for them, if, by any means, they can secure the good opinion of mankind. If, by refined dissimulation, they can throw a veil over the deformity of their character; if, by specious hypocrisy, they can obtain the reputation of goodness, they are willing to leave to others the pleasures of conscious integrity, and the elating triumphs of virtuous resolution; pleasures which they cannot appreciate triumphs of which they are incapable, The statue, which represents the form of humanity, but wants the energy and sensibility of life; the painted sepulchre-fair in its external appearance,

but defiled within by mortality and corruption-are the proper emblems of that false and hollow virtue, which breathes no better spirit than the desire of applause.

Such was the virtue of the Pharisees of old— "They loved the praise of men, more than the praise of God." Ambitious of the form of superior sanctity and righteousness, they were correct and exemplary in their external deportment; and in their observance of all the visible rites and ceremonies of religion, they were scrupulously exact. They fasted twice in the week. They paid tithes of all they possessed. But in the weightier matters of the law-in the essential virtues of the heart-they were miserably deficient. When they prayed, it was in the midst of the synagogues, or in the corners of the streets; not that they might be accepted of God, but that they might be seen of men. When they did alms, a trumpet sounded before them, and their donations were ostentatiously distributed; not for the sake of relieving misery, but of attracting observation. And such is the virtue of many who rank high in the opinion of men. Could we unveil the hearts of all whom the world honours with the appellation of good, how often should we find the basest depravity lurking behind the fair disguise which they have assumed! How often should we see the semblance of religion transformed into knavery and hypocrisy; apparent generosity dege. nerating into mere vanity and ostentation; and the

affectation of friendship and kindness employed only as a varnish to indifference, or a mask to malicious design!

2. It were so far well, however, if the love of praise always inclined men to assume even the appearance of virtue. But this principle, so valuable when under proper control; this principle, intended by our Creator to guide and to urge us in the path of duty, may, by acquiring undue influence, become one of the most dangerous means of seduction. A person whose chief desire is to obtain the praise of men, will naturally conform to the manners and habits of those with whom he happens to associate. Indeed much of the power of example depends upon the love of praise; for as our conformity to certain sentiments, principles, and actions, affords the most unequivocal evidence that we approve of these, it is obvious, that the most effectual way to conciliate the favour, and obtain the praise of any individual, is to pay to his character the refined and flattering homage of our imitation.

Suppose, then, a person, whose only principle of conduct is the desire of praise, were so unfortunate as to be thrown within the sphere of the licentious and profane-it follows, as a matter of absolute certainty, that he will imbibe their spirit, and grow into a complete resemblance of their character. Not only is he left defenceless against temptation, but that very principle which our Creator has given us as the safeguard of virtue, he has surrendered into