pain, their strength, their glory.  He wearies not himself with cares; for he knows he lives not of his own cost, not idly omitting means, but not using them with diffidence.  In the midst of ill rumours and amazements his countenance changeth not; for he knows both whom he hath trusted, and whither death can lead him.  He is not so sure he shall die as that he shall be restored, and outfaceth his death with resurrection.  Finally, he is rich in works, busy in obedience, cheerful and unmoved in expectation, better with evils, in common opinion miserable, but in true judgment more than a man.

OF THE HUMBLE MAN.

He is a friendly enemy to himself; for, though he be not out of his own favour, no man sets so low a value of his worth as himself—­not out of ignorance or carelessness, but of a voluntary and meek dejectedness.  He admires everything in another, while the same or better in himself he thinks not unworthily contemned.  His eyes are full of his own wants, and others’ perfections.  He loves rather to give than take honour; not in a fashion of complimental courtesy, but in simplicity of his judgment.  Neither doth he fret at those on whom he forceth precedence, as one that hoped their modesty would have refused; but holds his mind unfeignedly below his place, and is ready to go lower (if need be) without discontent.  When he hath his due, he magnifieth courtesy, and disclaims his deserts.  He can be more ashamed of honour than grieved with contempt; because he thinks that causeless, this deserved.  His face, his carriage, his habit, savour of lowliness without affectation, and yet he is much under that he seemeth.  His words are few and soft, never either peremptory or censorious; because he thinks both each man more wise, and none more faulty than himself.  And, when he approacheth to the throne of God, he is so taken up with the Divine greatness that, in his own eyes, he is either vile or nothing.  Places of public charge are fain to sue to him, and hail him out of his chosen obscurity; which he holds ofif, not cunningly, to cause importunity, but sincerely, in the conscience of his defects.  He frequenteth not the stages of common resorts, and then alone thinks himself in his natural element when he is shrouded within his own walls.  He is ever jealous over himself, and still suspecteth that which others applaud.  There is no better object of beneficence; for what he receives he ascribes merely to the bounty of the giver, nothing to merit.  He emulates no man in anything but goodness, and that with more desire than hope to overtake.  No man is so contented with his little, and so patient under miseries; because he knows the greatest evils are below his sins, and the least favours above his deservings.  He walks ever in awe, and dare not but subject every word and action to an high and just censure.  He is a lowly valley, sweetly planted and well watered; the proud man’s earth, whereon he trampleth; but secretly full of wealthy mines, more worth than he that walks over them; a rich stone set in lead; and, lastly, a true temple of God built with a low roof.