In another point of view the perils connected with a profession of the gospel exercised a wholesome influence.  Comparatively few undecided characters joined the communion of the Church; and thus its members, as a body, displayed much consistency and steadfastness.  The purity of the Christian morality was never seen to more advantage than in those days of persecution, as every one who joined the hated sect was understood to possess the spirit of a martyr.  And never did the graces of the religion of the cross appear in more attractive lustre than when its disciples were groaning under the inflictions of imperial tyranny.  As some plants yield their choicest odours only under the influence of pressure, it would seem as if the gospel reserved its richest supplies of patience, strength, and consolation, for times of trouble and alarm.  Piety never more decisively asserts its celestial birth than when it stands unblenched under the frown of the persecutor, or calmly awaits the shock of death.  In the second and third centuries an unbelieving world often looked on with wonder as the Christians submitted to torment rather than renounce their faith.  Nor were spectators more impressed by the amount of suffering sustained by the confessors and the martyrs, than by the spirit with which they endured their trials.  They approached their tortures in no temper of dogged obstinacy or sullen defiance.  They rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer in so good a cause.  They manifested a self-possession, a meekness of wisdom, a gentleness, and a cheerfulness, at which the multitude were amazed.  Nor were these proofs of Christian magnanimity confined to any one class of the sufferers.  Children and delicate females, illiterate artisans and poor slaves, sometimes evinced as much intrepidity and decision as hoary-headed pastors.  It thus appeared that the victims of intolerance were upheld by a power which was divine, and of which philosophy could give no explanation.

We form a most inadequate estimate of the trials of the early Christians, if we take into account only those sufferings they endured from the hands of the pagan magistrates.  Circumstances which seldom came under the eye of public observation not unfrequently kept them for life in a state of disquietude.  Idolatry was so interwoven with the very texture of society that the adoption of the new faith sometimes abruptly deprived an individual of the means of subsistence.  If he was a statuary, he could no longer employ himself in carving images of the gods; if he was a painter, he could no more expend his skill in decorating the high places of superstition.  To earn a livelihood, he must either seek out a new sphere for the exercise of his art, or betake himself to some new occupation.  If the Christian was a merchant, he was, to a great extent, at the mercy of those with whom he transacted business.  When his property was in the hands of dishonest heathens, he was often unable to recover