And what he heard we may very fairly guess, because we know from St.
Paul's writings what he was in the habit of saying.

St. Paul told him of righteousness--a word of which he was very fond.
He told Felix of a righteous and good God, who had manifested to man
his righteousness and goodness, in the righteousness and goodness of
his Son Jesus; a righteous God, who wished to make all men righteous
like himself, that they might be happy for ever. Perhaps St. Paul
called Felix to give up all hopes of having his own righteousness--
the false righteousness of forms, and ceremonies, and superstitions--
and to ask for the righteousness of Christ, which is a clean heart
and a right spirit; and then he set before him no doubt, as was his
custom, the beauty of righteousness, the glory of it, as St. Paul
calls it; how noble, honourable, divine, godlike a thing it is to be
good.

Then St. Paul told Felix of temperance. And what he said we may
fairly guess from his writings. He would tell Felix that there were
two elements in every man, the flesh and the spirit, and that those
warred against each other: the flesh trying to drag him down, that
he may become a brute in fleshly lusts and passions; the spirit
trying to raise him up, that he may become a son of God in purity and
virtue. But if so, what need must there be of temperance! How must
a man be bound to be temperate, to keep under his body and bring it
into subjection, bound to restrain the lower and more brutal feelings
in him, that the higher and purer feelings may grow and thrive in him
to everlasting life! Truly the temperate man, the man who can
restrain himself, is the only strong man, the only safe man, the only
happy man, the only man worthy of the name of man at all. This, or
something like this, St. Paul would have said to Felix. He did not,