495 / 652
SECT.
Itr.1
IN REGARD
OF 41EN.
4b3"
jealous of
every
thing
that
opposes
our opinion,
that
censures
our conduct, or in the most friendly language
discovers
Cur
mistakes
:
Passion and resentment are
ever
upon
the
watch and
stand ready
to
take the alarm
:
the
eyes
and the
tongue are
swift
to
discover the inward
fen*
ment, to
publish and betray
the pride
of
the heart. Q
that
each
of us
would but honestly
enquire,
"
Is this
my
picture
?
Are these the features
of
my
soul
?
Igo
I
ever
wear
this
aspect,
or
assume these
airs
?"
But
alas, which
of
us,
O
my
friends,
is
entirely
innocent and
blameless
here
?
How
few
follies
had any
of
us
carried into aged
life,
if
we
had
not
had toa much
pride and
self-
flattery tp
invite and
encourage
the
admonitions
of
our
acquaint-
ance,
who saw
these budding fooleries
in
younger
years
?
But we were too rich, or too
wise,
or too
vain to
bear
a
reprover;
and
thus
our
vices
are
grown up with us
to
shame
our
grey hairs,
and are
now
too much mingled
with
our natures
ever to
be
rooted out.
While
we
maintain
this
temper of
mind,
it
is
no won-
der
we
cannot bear the ruder reproaches
of
the
world,
nor confine ourselves
in
that
dangerous moment within
any
bounds
of
sobriety
or patience. We
kindle on
a
sudden into undue
rage,
we swell
and burn
with
inward
indignation and indulge our
lips
in
a
wild
revenge
:
Or
sometimes
perhaps the
pride
of our
souls mingled
with
a
particular
constitution
of
body sinks
under the
assaults
of
scandal
with
a shameful cowardice, and
almost
dies
with
abjectness
of
spirit
;
for courage
is
not
always
au
attendant
upon pride
:
The
vain man
is
not
always
a
hero.
Oh
unhappy creature,
that
is
thus galled inwardly with
every
stroke
of
the tongues of men
!
That
vexes
and frets
its own
peace
away
for
want of
clue
honours
from
the
world
!
All
the comforts and
blessings
of
life
are insipid
or disrelishing, all
the
grandeur
of
circumstances, the
sun
-shine
of
heaven, and the gaiety
of
the seasons, have
no power to
relieve or
support
us.
The
soul
of Haman
amidst
all
his
honours of state and
his
endless
treasures
is
still pining away with
inward vexation, and
his life
lan-
guishes
from
day
to day,
because
Mordecai
does
not
rise
up. to him
and
pay his
compliments.
Have
a
care, O
my
soul,
of
copying
after
this
wretched
character
:
have
a
care
of
swelling
to
these
painful
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