He who may dare to be "all things to all men," must, like St.
Paul, have set his feet on the rock Christ Jesus, and be exalted by the continual remembrance of the "cloud of witnesses" in the heavenly kingdom, and the fixed, all-searching glance of the pure eye of God, reading the inmost soul.
Insensibly Blair inclined to use the language in which his hearers couched their own thoughts.

As we speak baby-talk to the infant, and broken English to the Frenchman, he unconsciously dealt in expressions adapted to the wild eager faces that looked into his.

Here had surely been a temptation that would have dragged the young speaker down to the pit which the great adversary had made ready for him, but for the strong Deliverer who walked amid the flames of fire with the three faithful "children" of old.
Blair saw his danger, and met it not in his own strength.

Whether he sat down at table, or mingled in the groups on deck, or shared the watch of a companion, by a determined and prayerful effort he strove to keep in his mind the presence of "One like unto the Son of man." To him that face, unsullied by taint of sin or shame, was in the midst of the weather-beaten, guilt-marked countenances of the crew of the Molly.

He who "turned and looked on Peter" was asking his young servant in a tender, appealing glance, "Will you blaspheme my name?
Will you offend Him in whose eyes the heavens are not pure, and who chargeth even his angels with folly ?" A deep "No; so help me God," was the full response of the whole being of Blair Robertson.