Compare then the proud man with the man of humility, and tell me, which is the more dignified being. Pride, like humility, supposes an act of comparison. But the comparison of the proud man is not between himself and the standard of his duty; between what he is and what he ought to be; but between himself and his fellow-men. He looks around him, forgets his own defects and weakness, infirmities and sins, and because he finds, or imagines he finds, in some respects, a little superiority to his fellow men-at the greatest it can be but a little-because he, one worm of the dust, believes himself to be somewhat more rich, more learned, more successful than another, he thinks this to be a sufficient ground for swelling with selfcomplacency, and regarding those around him with disdain and contempt. The humble man, on the contrary, is so full of the thought of the exceeding breadth of the commandments of God, and of that supreme excellence to which his religion teaches him to aspire; and he so constantly recollects the imperfection of his approaches to it, that every idea of a vain-glorious comparison of himself with his neighbour dies away within him. He can only remember that God is every thing, and that in his august presence, all distinctions are lost, and all human beings reduced to the same level. Say then, my friends, is it not pride that is so mean, so poorspirited and low; is it not pride that is a mark of a little and narrow and feeble mind; and is not hu

mility alone the truly noble, the truly generous and sublime quality?

There is this farther proof of the superior elevation of the humble man.

The man of pride, with all his affected contempt of the world, must evidently estimate it very highly; else whence so much complacency at the idea of surpassing others? Whence that restless desire of distinction, that passion for theatrical display, which inflames his heart and occupies his whole attention? Why is it that his strongest motive to good actions is their notoriety, and that he considers every worthy deed as lost, when it is not publickly displayed? It is only because the world, and the world's applause are every thing to him; and that he cannot live but on the breath of popular favour. But the humble man, with all his real lowliness, has yet risen above the world. He looks for that honour, which cometh down from on high, and the whispers of worldly praise die away upon his ear. When his thoughts return from the contemplation of the infinite excellence of God and the future glories of virtue, the objects of this life appear reduced in their importance; in the same way, as the landscape around appears little and low to him, whose eye has been long directed to the solemn grandeur and wide magnificence of the starry heavens. I appeal to you, my friends, to decide on the comparative dignity of the characters of the proud and the humble man. I call on you to say, whether our blessed

Master has given to humility too high a rank in the scale of excellence.

But this quality, despised by the world, and so little regarded by the moralists of antiquity as that it is doubtful whether the Romans had a word to express it, is yet as indispensable as it is dignified. It must be at the basis of all goodness. Piety and benevolence can exist in their purity only in the breast of a humble man. Among the essential constituents of piety are reverence and gratitude. But if you consider what it is to revere and be grateful to God, you will see that no one but a humble man can do either. Reverence in its nature implies an acknowledgment of superiority in any being to whom we give it; and when it is given to God in its purity, this superiority is perceived to be so infinite, that all comparison ceases, and all human claims fade and disappear. We feel that in comparison with God, the noblest being to whom he has given existence, yea, all that the universe embraces, all that we can conceive of great and good, all, when compared with HIM, sink into unimportance. How much more insignificant, then, is man, at his fairest estate; man, the child of frailty, error and sin; man, that fades before the moth, that drinketh iniquity like water; that is born of dust and kindred to the grave! Now is it conceivable, that a man should habitually cherish these thoughts of the grandeur of God and his own feebleness, without having every emotion of arro

gance and pride extinguished in his breast? Will the man who habitually humbles himself in the presence of his God, be likely to bear himself proudly in the presence of his fellow men? Will he, who from a sense of unworthiness, shrinks into nothing before the throne of his Maker, be apt to swell into imaginary importance as soon as he finds himself among the dependent offspring of the same Parent? Can we conceive of two ideas more evidently and entirely separated than that of reverence prostrating itself in adoration before God, lost in wonder at the contemplation of his perfections, overwhelmed by a sense of its own imperfection, frailty and sin;-and that of pride, erecting itself with fancied elevation, full of haughty disdain of all around, and exclusively engrossed by conscious self-complacency? Is it too much, then, to say that no other than a humble man can sincerely reverence God?

It is equally impossible that any other than a humble man should be deeply and sincerely grateful to God. Gratitude is in its nature at war with the principle of self-sufficiency, because it implies that we have received favours from another. It wounds that secret and unavowed, but real belief, that always accompanies pride, that we are the authors of our own good qualities, and that our enjoyments are independent and unborrowed. There is a peculiar opposition between pride and that gratitude, which we exercise towards the Deity.

How is it possible, that any man should recollect that all the talents and good affections which he possesses are the unmerited gift of God; that he owes all which exalts him in the esteem of others, all that constitutes his happiness here and his hopes of felicity hereafter, to God's mercy alone; how can he recollect this, without perceiving, that however strong may be his obligation to gratitude, he has not the smallest foundation for pride? He who habitually refers all that he enjoys to the bounty of heaven, cannot surely be vain of the little distinctions which elevate him above his fellow men. If he differs from another, it is God who makes him to differ, and of what can he be proud? When too he recollects—and the pious man never forgets it-that all this goodness has been showered on one not only without claim to it, but on one sinful, insensible, and unworthy, must not every emotion of self-complacency melt within his breast? We may surely venture to repeat the assertion that no man can be sincerely grateful to God, who has not learned humility in the school of Christ.

Since then it appears, that humility is necessary for all just reverence and all genuine gratitude to God, the assertion was not too strong, that he cannot be a pious man who is not at the same time a humble man. But I believe that more than this is true. No one will be really and uniformly benevolent to his fellow men, who does not possess humility. Vanity is a most unsocial passion. The