the dupe of weaklings, might have allied himself with the grandest of Englishmen, and left behind him records of abiding influence. There is no circle where a man can escape this peril of being unduly swayed by others. Many well-principled young men, who are free from the follies I have glanced at, lose their power to influence through a deplorable lack of force. Instead of quickness, briskness, strength, in the warehouse, they do their work in a dreamy, sentimental way. Their religious coterie is composed of people who are slow, sedate, and lack vigor. They are taught to think that religion consists in unctuous prayers, sanctimonious looks, effusive utterances, instead of a consistent filling up of duty, care for their employers’ interest, and faithful discharge of daily tasks. Oh, do not forget it is the action, it is the life in the very sphere which God has appointed, that is the opportunity for the manifestation of religion. All mere emotion is like the steam from the engine—of no value except as an indication of ability to work. There is another danger. You will find a class of religious men not at all sentimental, but who will sneer at what they term religious earnestness. A young man’s worst enemies are often cold, formal, routine Christians—Christians who think that to stand well with the world, to get into “good society,” to be always very respectable, and to have as little cross-bearing as possible, is the golden mean of religious life. Young men, in the name of all that is true and noble, set yourselves against this style of religious profession. The worst weakness in the world is to fear to do a right thing because others will criticise it. There were many Christian men in Wittemberg who said to Martin Luther, “You don’t mean that you are going to hang up these theses on the church door.” “Yes,” said Luther; “they are true; they assail damning error; my fatherland is bowing down to antichrist.” “Pause,” said the men who would stand well with everybody. “Is not this zeal without knowledge? Think how you will scandalize the University; how you will drive off men who would follow you in a more discreet course.” “Avaunt!” said the reformer. “The people are perishing in ignorance. The crowds of the common people who come into the city to market will read these words. Yours is not discretion, but cowardice.” He did the deed; and as the result of that act, Europe received the Protestant Reformation, and the night of the middle ages was ended. On one occasion, Nehemiah was urged by his friends to desert the post of duty, to conceal himself in the courts of the Temple, for fear of would-be assassins. With heroic decision, he replied, “Should such a man as I flee? And who is there that, being as I am, would go into the temple to save his life? I will not go in.” Brave, perfumed words!