of women there had not arisen a greater than John the Baptist.' With
the illumination of His eulogium we may turn to this life, then, and
gather some lessons for our own guidance.

I. First, we note in John unwavering and immovable firmness and
courage.

'What went ye out into the wilderness for to see? A reed shaken with
the wind?' Nay! an iron pillar that stood firm whatsoever winds blew
against it. This, as I take it, is in some true sense the basis of
all moral greatness--that a man should have a grip which cannot be
loosened, like that of the cuttle-fish with all its tentacles round
its prey, upon the truths that dominate his being and make him a
hero. 'If you want me to weep,' said the old artist-poet, 'there must
be tears in your own eyes.' If you want me to believe, you yourself
must be aflame with conviction which has penetrated to the very
marrow of your bones. And so, as I take it, the first requisite
either for power with others, or for greatness in a man's own
development of character, is that there shall be this unwavering
firmness of grasp of clearly-apprehended truths, and unflinching
boldness of devotion to them.

I need not remind you how magnificently, all through the life of our
typical example, this quality was stamped upon every utterance and
every act. It reached its climax, no doubt, in his bearding Herod
and Herodias. But moral characteristics do not reach a climax unless
there has been much underground building to bear the lofty pinnacle;
and no man, when great occasions come to him, develops a courage and
an unwavering confidence which are strange to his habitual life.
There must be the underground building; and there must have been