When shall we lay The ghost of the brute that is walking and haunting us yet and be free?
This is the great problem of life.1
(4) Courage. — Another principle by which the manly life is steered is courage. As to this thing called courage, people some- times distinguish between physical courage and moral courage. If there be such a thing as physical courage apart from moral courage, we have not very frequent use for it in civilized life.
1 W. T. Herridge, The Orbit of Life, 65.
5o6 THE CHRISTIAN KNIGHT
Against physical danger, as proceeding from the violence of others, society protects us ; we seldom need to be at the trouble of protecting ourselves. Physical courage is the virtue of bar- barism ; the virtue of civilization is moral courage. The courage most needed in civilized society, at almost every hour of our lives, is the courage of opinion; the courage of our faiths and our convictions.
U Once, in some American city, there was held a densely crowded mass-meeting of slave-holders. Shouts of applause and enthusiasm marked the words of these champions of bondage, and they thundered forth the plausible sophisms of perverted Scriptures which defended their covenants with death. And one of the orators exclaimed, in the face of that menacing and raging meeting: "I should like to see an Abolitionist now; I should like to see an Abolitionist show his face here." Then a short figure was seen thrusting its way to the front, and, standing up before these raging defenders of wickedness alone, Theodore Parker shouted out to the raging multitude, " I am an Abolition- ist!" It required nobler courage to do that than to fight a battle.1
If I say it deliberately, from long observation, that I regard cowardice as a capital defect in a young man. I have really more hopes of a fool than of a coward. I am never sure that a coward will tell the truth. I tremble at every temptation that he en- counters, lest he may succumb. I fear for every opposition that he meets, lest he may be carried away with it.1
If I remember a remarkable conversion that occurred many years ago, when a work of grace was beginning in the parish over which my dear father was pastor. It happened that at that time there was a little band of men who were " great chums," and in a good position in society, as things went in the village; they were, in fact, regarded as influential men in the parish. One evening, they were all together at an hotel in the neighbouring town of Penzance, and, as men do on such occasions, they were drinking, and talking all kinds of nonsense, and not infrequently all kinds of profanity ! One happened to say, " I wonder what the people are doing just now over at Pendeen." Another replied, "I suppose they are all getting converted as fast as possible."
" Well," said one to a third, " I say, Captain B , I will tell you
what it is. When I see you converted, I will begin to think there is something in it," and there was a great roar of laughter
1 Dean Farrar. 8 E. B. Fairbairn, College Sermons, 67.
i CORINTHIANS xvi. 13, 14 50;/
from the whole of the company at the thought of Captain B-
conversion. The man thus referred to was, I may say, a mine agent, occupying a very influential position, and a large employer of labour. As the laughter died away, he rose from his seat. His companions did not notice how pale was his cheek. One thought only had flashed across his mind, when he heard his friend's remark, and the roar of laughter which it provoked. It was this — " Is my salvation so utterly hopeless that these worldly men can afford to regard me as they do ? Do my companions think me altogether lost — for time and eternity ? He started up and darted out of the room. The company thought they had offended him. Another moment, and he was in the hotel-yard, and crying to the ostler, " Saddle my horse ! " He rode to his home as fast as he could ride. His wife could not understand what was wrong with him: he seemed so agitated. He took no food; but im- mediately set out for the place at which our meetings were being held. He was the last man we expected to see there. He came boldly forward and took his seat in front of the congregation, full in view of many whom he was employing. He had overcome his moral cowardice. My dear father gave out those lines of a well- known hymn of Wesley's —
Is here a soul that knows Thee not,
Nor feels his want of Thee? A stranger to the blood which bought
His pardon on the tree ? Convince him now of unbelief,
His desperate state explain.
And, as my father uttered these last words — " His desperate state explain!" — we heard a cry. This man was prostrated on his knees, and was sending up the thrilling prayer, before the eyes and ears of all — "God be merciful to me a sinner." I need hardly tell you that man went home rejoicing. But I may add that his conversion moved the whole neighbourhood, and was the commencement of the most remarkable work of God's grace that has ever occurred in those parts. Now, I call that manly, " quitting oneself like a man." I know he could not have done it if the Holy Spirit had not been striving within him. But then we often strive the other way ; God calls, and we won't answer. God draws, and we won't yield ; and the result is our hearts become like adamant, harder than flint.1