“I feel afraid to be a clergyman,” said Charles, gravely. “My uncle spoke to me about it yesterday: he said that the church might be the best opening for me in life, and that it was time for me to think of a profession. But, Ernest, there was something that went against my feelings in thinking of it in that light.” “I am sure that you were right, my brother. How could one dare to become the minister of God from any other motive than the desire to serve Him, and proclaim His message to dying sinners around us?” “I was afraid that you would blame me. I thought that you would urge me to devote myself to the service of the ministry.” “Not unless your service were that of the heart; then indeed I should rejoice at your choice. But what are your own wishes for yourself?” “I have always had rather a fancy for being a soldier. The danger and excitement of the life attracts me. I should like to be just such a warrior as Great-heart, who fought and conquered Giant Despair.” “I thought,” observed Ernest, smiling, “that Great-heart was intended to represent a minister, and not a soldier.” “Do you really think so?” said Charles. “Only consider his office, and the nature of his exploits. Was he not sent to guide feeble pilgrims, and lead them to the heavenly city? Did not his words cheer and help them on the way? Did he not show them the spring at which they drank and were refreshed, and fight the giant Maul, who led young pilgrims into error? Remember his own account of himself, when he said, ‘I am a servant of the God of heaven: my business is to persuade sinners to repentance.’ Surely this is a description of a minister of the gospel.” “It never struck me so before.” “If you love difficulties,” continued Ernest, “who has greater to overcome than a conscientious clergyman? He has the world to oppose him, Satan to oppose him, his own sinful nature, like a traitor within the gates. He is appointed a commander in the army of the Lord.” “And a missionary is the leader of a forlorn hope,” interrupted Charles. “Not _forlorn_,” exclaimed Ernest; “his hope is sure: if faithful, he is certain of both victory and life.” “I believe, after all,” said Charles, “that a clergyman’s is the noblest, as well as the most anxious of professions. But even did I wish it to be mine, the question remains—Could I ever be worthy of it?” “Ah, that is my difficulty too,” cried Ernest; “and yet,” he added hopefully, “I cannot but think that He who first gave us a love for the work, would also give us strength to perform it.”