e; but did
you never rob him of his friends?--gravely shake your head and
oracularly insinuate that he was leading souls to hell?--chill the
affections of his family?--take from him his good name? Did you never
with delight see his Church placarded as the Man of Sin, and hear the
platform denunciations which branded it with the spiritual
abominations of the Apocalypse? Did you never find a malicious
pleasure in repeating all the miserable gossip with which religious
slander fastened upon his daily acts, his words, and even his
uncommunicated thoughts? Did you never forget that for a man to "work
out his own salvation with fear and trembling" is a matter difficult
enough to be laid upon a human spirit, without intruding into the most
sacred department of another's life--that namely, which lies between
himself and God? Did you never say that "it was to be wished he should
go to Rome," until at last life became intolerable,--until he was
thrown more and more in upon himself; found himself, like his
Redeemer, in this world alone, but unable like his Redeemer, calmly to
repose upon the thought that his Father was with him? Then a stern
defiant spirit took possession of his soul, and there burst from his
lips, or heart, the wish for _rest_--rest at any cost,--peace
anywhere, if even it is to be found only in the bosom of the Church of
Rome!

II. The guilt of this license.

The first evil consequence is the harm that a man does himself: "so is
the tongue among the members, that it defiles the whole body." It is
not very obvious, in what way a man does himself harm by calumny. I
will take the simplest form in which this injury is done; it effects a
dissipation of spiritual energy. There are two ways in which the steam
of machinery may find an outlet for its force: it may work, and if so
it works silently; or it may escape, and that takes place loudly, in
air and noise. There are two ways in which the spiritual energy of a
man's soul may find its vent: it may express itself in action,
silently; or in words, noisily: but just so much of force as is thrown
into the one mode of expression, is taken from the other.

Few men suspect how much mere talk fritters away spiritual
energy,--that which should be spent in action, spends itself in words.
The fluent boaster is not the man who is steadiest before the enemy;
it is well said to him that his courage is better kept till it is
wanted. Loud