Not so with the virtuous man. He, too, make3 sacrifices, even a sacrifice of himself, but for the love of God, for a divine reward. Without sacrificing his conscience (which belongs to a higher Lord), he endeavors in all other things to become all to all.
He restricts himself for the sake of others, accommodates himself to their tastes, is indulgent where he can be; he praises what is praiseworthy, and knows how to soften a necessary rebuke by sympathy and friendly interest. Cheerful without excess, he is obliging, affable, polite, without cringing; modest with superiors, benign with his equals, and condescending to inferiors.
O the power of love! O holy violence of self-denial.
Shall not such politeness, arising from such motives, and purchased at the price of such sacrifices, bear on its brows the stamp of genuine virtue?
Is it not as far removed as heaven is from earth, from that artificial whitewash, from that smooth veneering that chills us with its deadly coldness, because it originates from loveless, selfish hearts, and is destitute of all heavenly warmth and unction?
Politeness and urbanity, culture and courtesy, have value only as far as they proceed from, and aim at, charity. If their source is true self-denial, if they rest upon the esteem of the neighbor, as faith teaches us, they are laudable, meritorious, and pleasing to God.
The eulogy or example of a polite companion, or of an educated man of the world, is neither a sufficient nor worthy motive for cultivating
