slippers, and leave him when it becomes necessary for him to go barefoot. The hypocrite’s religion is like a chameleon, it takes its colour from the light which falls upon it, but the Christian’s religion is always the same. Is this true then of any of us? Can we say we desire to be always the same? Or do we change with our company and with the times? If so, we are confessed hypocrites, and let us own up to it before God, and may God make us sincere.
11. There is another sign of the hypocrite, and now the lash will fall on my own back, and on most of us too. Hypocrites, and other people besides hypocrites, are generally severe with others, and very lenient with themselves. Have you ever heard a hypocrite describe himself? I describe him thus: — you are a mean, beggarly fellow. “No,” he says, “I am not; I am economical.” I say to him, “You are dishonest, you are a thief.” “No,” he says, “I am only cute and sharp for the times.” “Well, but,” I say to him, “you are proud and conceited.” “Oh!” he says, “I have only a proper and manly respect.” “Indeed, but you are a fawning, cringing fellow.” “No,” he says, “I am all things to all men.” Somehow or other he will make vice look like a virtue in himself, but he will deal by the reverse rule with others. Show him a Christian who is really humble, and he says, “I hate his fawning ways.” Tell him there is one who is very courageous for Christ; “Oh! he is impudent,” he says. Show him one who is generous, doing what he can for his Master’s service, spending, and being spent for him; “Rash and imprudent,” he says, “extravagant; the man does not know what he is doing.” You may point out a virtue, and the hypocrite shall at once say it is a vice. Have you ever seen a hypocrite turn doctor? He has a fine beam in his eye, large enough to shut out the light of heaven from his soul, but nevertheless he is a very skilful oculist. He waits upon some poor brother, whose eye is a little affected with a mote so tiny that the full blaze of the sun can scarcely reveal it. Look at our beam eyed friend, he puts on a knowing look, and cries, “Allow me to extract this mote for you?” “You hypocrite! first cast the beam out of your own eye, and then you shall see clearly to cast the mote out of your brother’s eye.” There are people of that sort who make virtues in others into vices, and vices in themselves they transform into virtues. Now, if you are a Christian, I will tell you what will be your spirit, it will be the very reverse; you will be always making excuses for others, but you will never be making excuses for yourself. The true Christian, if he sees himself sin, mourns over it, and makes much ado concerning it. He says to another, “Oh! I feel so sinful”; and the other one cries “I cannot really see it; I can see no sin in you; I could wish I were holy as you.” “No,” says the other, “but I am full of infirmity.” John Bunyan describes Mercy, and Christiana, and the children, after having been washed in the bath, and sealed with the seal, as coming up out of the water, and being all fair and lovely to look upon; and one began to say to the other, “You are fairer than I!” and “You are more comely than I!” said another. And then each began to bemoan their own spots, and to praise the beauty of the others. That is the spirit of a Christian; but the spirit of the hypocrite is the very reverse; he will judge, and condemn, and punish with lynch law every other man; and as for himself, he is exempt, he is a king, he is bound by no law, and his conscience slumbers and allows him to go on easily in the very sins which he condemns in others. This is a very prominent mark of the hypocrite, and I question whether all of us must not blame ourselves a little here.
12. II. And now we are going to TALLY UP THE HYPOCRITE’S ACCOUNT FOR HIM. Now, sir, bring us your ledger, and let us have a look at it. You are a hypocrite. Well, what is on the profit side? A good deal, I must confess. Here is, first of all, credit and honour. If you were to say outright, “You are a thief, you are a private drunkard, you can curse God as well as any man”; or if the world should hear as much, you would have no honour; but as it is you have joined the church, and the minister is very fond of you, the deacons and elders think a great deal of you, and you are a very honourable, respectable man. You go walking up to your pew with your Bible and your hymn book, and everyone says, “There is an exemplary character”; and they pat their little boys on the head, and say, “May you grow up to be a very good man like Mr. So-and-So.” The next advantage is the ease which you enjoy. The minister often preaches a solemn, thundering sermon against sin. You are exempt from all that; you are not a sinner, are you? not at all; who would suspect you? You are one of the brightest of the saints; it is almost a pity you were not one of the twelve; there was one among them almost as good as yourself, and his end will probably be yours. You escape every thunder of the law; your conscience rests easy, and the very thing which makes the child of God tremble, puffs you up; and the very marks and evidences which cast him down, help to exalt you. The sun of the gospel which melts wax, hardens the poor clay of your hearts, and you get more exalted in your self-conceit through everything you hear. And that is good too, is it not? very much in your favour, certainly. And then there is another thing. How nicely your shop has prospered through it; that, perhaps, is the part of the bargain which you like the best. Ever since you have made a profession of religion, have not those who go to your church and chapel done business with you? You would not have prospered half so well if you had been suspected to be what you really are, but because of that fine cloak of yours, that fine garment of hypocrisy, how nicely you have prospered! What a nice little round sum you have been able to save, have you not? All that is the bright side again. And besides that, what honours have you not received in the church! Are you not made a deacon, or an elder; indeed, perhaps a minister too: how pleasant that is! And you puff yourself up, and you feel satisfied. “Oh, what a good man I am, other people think I am, therefore I must be. It is true I devour the widow’s house; it is true I am not very particular about what I do; nevertheless the minister, the elders, the deacons think of me as good, the whole church applauds me; they cannot all be mistaken; surely I must be a special saint.” That is your profit side of the account, what about the other side? I think we shall be able to strike a balance that will not be very much in your favour, sir.
13. In the first place, I see a black item down here. Some of the people of the world do not think quite as much of you, as you imagine. The poor widow does not give you much of a character. You will have to be very careful sir, or your base deeds will come out. The very first item I see down here, is a fear that your hypocrisy will be discovered. It would take you only half as much trouble to be an honest man as it does to be a deceiver. A man who is in the habit of speaking truth, needs not be careful when he opens his mouth, nor where; but a man who lies, should be very careful, and have a very good memory, and remember all he has ever said before, lest he should trip himself up. So it is with you my friend, your religion is a Sunday religion, and you have to be very careful, so as to make Monday’s dealings hold their tongues and Sunday’s doings crow as loud as they can. Hard work! I would not stand in your place to have all the trepidation and fear of discovery, which so often comes upon you. No, I would sooner be a worldling, than I would have the fear that constantly haunts you, lest you should stand ashamed before the Church by your base iniquity being discovered. But I see something worse than this, here is constant turmoil of conscience; hypocrites may seem as if they were at ease, but they cannot really be. The Christian who is true to God, and is really his child, can sometimes say, “I know that Jesus has taken away my sin.” Assurance, bestowed to him by the Spirit, calms his fears and he can rest in Christ. But the highest presumption to which the hypocrite can attain, brings no such calm as what is breathed upon the Christian by the lips of assurance. He can go to his bed, no, he can go to his tomb in peace, but the hypocrite is afraid of a shadow, and flees when no man pursues.
14. And last of all, Mr. Hypocrite, I see an item here which you usually forget, it is this — that despite your profession God abhors you, and if there is one man more than another who stinks in the nostrils of Jehovah, it is such as you are — you miserable pretender. There shall be a special place reserved for you among the damned. Think man what shall be your misery when your secret deeds of iniquity are read before an assembled universe, and men and angels utter one unanimous hiss against you. What shall it be when the mask is torn off of you, when the masquerade of your hypocrisy is done and you are stripped naked to your shame, to be observed by all and to be despised by all? What do you say to this? Shall you go from your deaconship, or from your ministry, to be among the demons in hell? Shall you go from the sacramental table to drink the sulphurous cup of torment? Shall you descend from the song of