SERMON XXXVII. ON FORTITUDE. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear. PSALM 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 unobserved 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; dependent on firmness of nerves, and strength of spirits. Though, partly, it is so, yet experience shews that it may also be acquired by prin ciple, 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 fortitude 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 tranquility. The man of feeble and timorous spirit lives under perpetual alarms. He foresees exery 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 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 the 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 the 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, nor 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 profession, 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 for the words which he spake, that they should see his face no more. What were then the sentiments, what was the language of this great and good man? Hear the words which spoke his firm and undaunted mind. Behold, I go bound in the spirit into Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there! save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth, in every city, saying, that bonds and afflictions abide me. But none of these things move me ; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.* There was uttered the voice, there breathed the spirit, of a brave and a virtuous man. Such a man knows not what it is to shrink from danger when conscience points out his path. In that path he is determined to walk; let the consequences be what they will, Till I die, I will not remove my integrity from me. My righte ousness I hold fast, and will not let it go. My heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.† "For me there is a part appointed to act. "I go to perform it. My duty I shall do to-day. Let "to-morrow take thought for the things of itself."-Having thus shown the importance, I proceed, II. To show the proper foundations of constancy and fortitude of mind. They are principally two; a good conscience, and trust in God. A corrupted and guilty man can possess no true firmness of heart. He who, by crooked paths, pursues dishonourable ends, has many things to dismay him. He not only dreads the disappointment of his designs, by some of those accidents to which all are exposed; but he has also to dread the treachery of his confederates, the discovery and reproach of the world, and the just displeasure of Heaven. His fears he is obliged to conceal; but while he assumes the appearance of intrepidity before the world, he trembles within himself; and the bold and steady eye of integrity frequently darts terror into his heart. There is, it is true, a sort of constitutional courage, which sometimes has rendered men daring in the most flagitious attempts. But this foolhardness of the rash, this boldness of the ruffian, is altogether different from real fortitude. It arises merely from warmth of blood, from want of thought, and blindness to danger. As it forms no character of value, so it appears only in occasional sallies; and never can be uniformily maintained. It requires adventitious props to support it; and, in some hour of trial, always fails. There can be no true courage, no regular presevering constancy, but what is connected with principle, and founded on a consciousness of rectitude of intention. This, and this only, erects that brazen wall, which we can oppose to every hostile attack. It clothes us with an armour, on which fortune will spend its shafts in vain. All is sound within. There is no weak place, where we particularly dread a blow. There is no occasion for false colours to be hung out. No disguise is needed to cover us. We would be satisfied if all mankind could look into our hearts. What has he to fear, who not only acts on a plan which his conscience approves, but who knows that every good man, nay the whole unbiassed world, if they could trace his intentions, would justify and approve his conduct? *Acts, xx. 22, 23, 24. 37, 38. Job, xxvii. 5, 6. Behold, my witness He knows, at the same, time that he is acting under the immediate eye and protection of the Almighty. is in heaven; and my record is on high.* source of fortitude to every virtuous man. of such an illustrious spectator invigorates and animates him. He trusts, that the eternal Lover of righteousness not only beholds and approves, but will strengthen and assist; will not suffer him to be unjustly oppressed, and will reward his constancy in the end, with glory, honour, and immortality. A good conscience, thus supported, bestows on the heart a much greater degree of intrepidity than it could otherwise inspire. One who rests on an almighty, though invisible, Protector, exerts his powers with double force; acts with vigour not his own. Accordingly, it was from this principle of trust in God, that the Psalmist derived that courage and boldness which he expresses in the text. He had said immediately before, The Lord is my light and my salvation; the Lord is the strength of my life. The consequence which directly follows is, of whom shall I be afraid? Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear. It remains. III. THAT I suggest a few considerations which may prove auxiliary to the exercise of virtuous fortitude in the midst of dangers. From what was just now said, it appears, first, that it is of high importance to every one, who wishes to act his part with becoming resolution, to cultivate a religious principle, and to be inspired with trust in God. The imperfections of the best are indeed so numerous, as to give them no title to claim, on their own account, the protection of Heaven. But we are taught to believe, that the merciful God, who made us, and who knows our frame, favours the sincere and upright; that the supreme administration of the universe is always on the side of truth and virtue; and that therefore, every worthy character, and every just and good cause, though, for a while it should be depressed, is likely to receive countenance and protection in the end. The more firmly this belief is rooted in the heart, its influence will be more powerful, in surmounting the fears which arise from a sense of our own weakness or danger. The records of all nations afford a thousand remarkable instances of the effect of this principle, both on individuals, and on bodies of men. Animated by the strong belief of a just cause and a protecting God, the feeble have waxed strong, and have despised dangers, sufferings, and death. Handfuls of men have defied host that were encamped against them; and have gone forth, conquering and to conquer. The sword of the Lord and of Gideon have called forth a Job, xvi. 19. |