with the belief that we all have been in some special manner born of God, and that God is the Father of gods and men, I think that he will never have any ignoble, any humble thoughts about himself.”  Our own great Milton has hardly expressed this high truth more nobly when he says, that “He that holds himself in reverence and due esteem, both for the dignity of God’s image upon him, and for the price of his redemption, which he thinks is visibly marked upon his forehead, accounts himself both a fit person to do the noblest and godliest deeds, and much better worth than to deject and defile, with such a debasement and pollution as sin is, himself so highly ransomed, and ennobled to a new friendship and filial relation with God.”

“And how are we to know that we have made progress?  We may know it if our own wills are bent to live in conformity with nature; if we be noble, free, faithful, humble; if desiring nothing, and shunning nothing which lies beyond our power, we sit loose to all earthly interests; if our lives are under the distinct governance of immutable and noble laws.

“But shall we not meet with troubles in life?  Yes, undoubtedly; and are there none at Olympia?  Are you not burnt with heat, and pressed for room, and wetted with showers when it rains?  Is there not more than enough clamour, and shouting, and other troubles?  Yet I suppose you tolerate and endure all these when you balance them against the magnificence of the spectacle?  And, come now, have you not received powers wherewith to bear whatever occurs?  Have you not received magnanimity, courage, fortitude?  And why, if I am magnanimous, should I care for anything that can possibly happen? what shall alarm or trouble me, or seem painful?  Shall I not use the faculty for the ends for which it was granted me, or shall I grieve and groan at all the accidents of life?  On the contrary, these troubles and difficulties are strong antagonists pitted against us, and we may conquer them, if we will, in the Olympic game of life.

“But if life and its burdens become absolutely intolerable, may we not go back to God, from whom we came? may we not show thieves and robbers, and tyrants who claim power over us by means of our bodies and possessions, that they have no power?  In a word, may we not commit suicide?” We know how Shakespeare treats this question:—­

“For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns Which patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?  Who would these fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourne No traveller returns, puzzles the will:  And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?”