Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy

A Sermon

(No. 237)

Delivered on Sabbath Morning, February 6th, 1859, by the

REV. C.H. SPURGEON

At the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.

"Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy."–Luke
12:1.

This age is full of shams. Pretence never stood in so eminent a
position as it does at the present hour. There be few, I fear, who love
the naked truth; we can scarce endure it in our houses; you would
scarcely trade with a man who absolutely stated it. If you walked
through the streets of London, you might imagine that all the shops
were built of marble, and that all the doors were made of mahogany and
woods of the rarest kinds; and yet you soon discover that there is
scarce a piece of any of these precious fabrics to be found anywhere,
but that everything is grained, and painted, and varnished. I find no
fault with this, except as it is an outward type of an inward evil that
exists. As it is in our streets, so is it everywhere; graining,
painting, and gilding, are at an enormous premium. Counterfeit has at
length attained to such an eminence that it is with the utmost
difficulty that you can detect it. The counterfeit so near approacheth
to the genuine, that the eye of wisdom itself needs to be enlightened
before she can discern the difference. Specially is this the case in
religious matters. There was once an age of intolerant bigotry, when
every man was weighed in the balance, and if he was not precisely up to
the orthodox standard of the day, the fire devoured him; but in this
age of charity, and of most proper charity, we are very apt to allow
the counterfeit to pass current, and to imagine that outward show is
really as beneficial as inward reality. If ever there was a time when
it was needful to say, "Beware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which
is hypocrisy," it is now. The minister may cease to preach this
doctrine in the days of persecution: when the faggots are blazing, and
when the rack is in full operation, few men will be hypocrites. These
are the keen detectors of impostures; suffering, and pain, and death,
for Christ's sake, are not to be endured by mere pretenders. But in
this silken age, when to be religious is to be respectable, when to
follow Christ is to be honored, and when godliness itself has become
gain, it is doubly necessary that the minister should cry aloud, and
lift up his voice like a trumpet against this sin, "the leaven of the
Pharisees, which is hypocrisy."

I am sure that every true child of God will stand at times in doubt of
himself, and his fear will probably take the shape of a suspicion
concerning his own state.

He that never doubted of his state,

He may–perhaps he may–too late.

The Christian, however, does not belong to that class. He will at times
begin to be terribly alarmed, lest, after all, his godliness should be
but seeming, and his profession an empty vanity. He who is true will
sometimes suspect himself of falsehood, while he who is false will wrap
himself up in a constant confidence of his own sincerity. My dear
Christian brethren, if you are at this time in doubt concerning
yourselves, the truths to utter will, perhaps, help you in searching
your own heart and trying your own reins, and sure I am you will not
blame me if I should seem to be severe, but you will rather say, "Sir,
I desire to make sure work concerning my own soul, tell me faithfully
and tell me honestly what are the signs of a hypocrite, and I will sit
down and try to read my own heart, to discover whether these things
have a bearing upon me, and happy shall I be if I shall come out of the
fire like pure gold."

We shall note, then, this morning, first, the character of a hypocrite;
then we shall try to cast up his accounts for him, with regard to his
loss or gain; and then we shall offer a cure for hypocrisy, which, if
constantly carried about with us, will certainly prevent us from
attempting to deceive. The cure is contained in these words which
follow the text–"For there is nothing covered, that shall not be
revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known. Therefore whatsoever ye
have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye
have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the
housetops."

I. First, THE HYPOCRITE'S CHARACTER. We have an elaborate description
of the hypocrite in the chapter we have just read, the twenty-third of
Matthew, and I do not know that I can better pourtray him than by
turning again to the words of Christ.

A hypocrite may be known by the fact that his speech and his actions
are contrary to one another. As Jesus says, "they say and they do not."
The hypocrite can speak like an angel, he can quote texts with the
greatest rapidity; he can talk concerning all matters of religion,
whether they be theological doctrines. metaphysical questions, or
experimental difficulties. In his own esteem he knoweth much and when
he rises to speak, you will often feel abashed at your own ignorance in
the presence of his superior knowledge. But see him when he comes to
actions. What behold you there? The fullest contradiction of everything
that he has uttered. He tells to others that they must obey the law:
doth he obey it? Ah! no. He declares that others must experience this,
that, and the other, and he sets up a fine scale of experience, far
above even that of the Christian himself; but does he touch it? No, not
with so much as one of his fingers. He will tell others what they
should do; but will he remember his own teaching? Not he! Follow him to
his house; trace him to the market, see him in the shop, and if you
want to refute his preaching you may easily do it from his own life. My
hearer! is this thy case? Thou art a member of a church, a deacon, a
minister. Is this thy case? Is thy life a contradiction to thy words?
Do thy hands witness against thy lips? How stands it with thee? With a
blush, each one of us must confess that, to some extent, our life is
contradictory to our profession. We blush and we mourn over this. But I
hope there are some here who can say, "Notwithstanding many
infirmities, with my whole heart have I striven to run in the ways of
thy commandments, O my God, and I have not intentionally spoken that
with my lip which I did not intend to carry out in my life." Ah!
believe me, my hearers, talk is easy, but walk is hard: speech any man
may attain unto, but act is difficult. We must have grace within to
make our life holy; but lip-piety needs no grace. The first mark of a
hypocrite, then, is, that he contradicts by his acts what he utters by
his words. Do any of you do so? If so, stand convicted of hypocrisy,
and bow your heads, and confess the sin.

The next mark of a hypocrite is, that whenever he does right it is that
he may be seen of men. The hypocrite sounds a trumpet before his alms,
and chooses the corner of the streets for his prayers. To him virtue in
the dark is almost a vice, he can never detect any beauty in virtue,
unless she has a thousand eyes to look upon her, and then she is
something indeed. The true Christian, like the nightingale, sings in
the night; but the hypocrite has all his songs in the day, when he can
be seen and heard of men. To be well spoken of is the very elixir of
his life; if he be praised, it is like sweet wine to him. The censure
of man upon a virtue would make him change his opinion concerning it in
a moment; for his standard is the opinion of his fellow creatures, his
law is the law of self-seeking, and of self-honoring: he is virtuous,
because to be virtuous is to be praised; but if tomorrow vice were at a
premium he would be as vicious as the rest. Applause is what too many
are seeking after. They eschew all secret religion, and only live where
men may behold them. Now, is this our case? Let us deal honestly with
ourselves; if we distribute to the poor, do we desire to do it in
secret, when no tongue shall tell? Are our prayers offered in our
closets, where God who heareth the cry of the secret ones, listeneth
unto our supplication? Can we say, that if every man were struck stone
blind and deaf and dumb, we would not alter our conduct the least? Can
we declare that the opinion of our fellows is not our guiding law, but
that we stand servants to our God and to our conscience, and are not to
be made do a wrong thing from flattery, nor are we urged to do a right
thing from fear of censure? Mark, the man who does not act rightly from
a higher motive than that of being praised, gives sore suspicion that
he is a hypocrite, but he who will do a right thing against the opinion
of every man, and simply because he believes it to be right, and sees
the stamp of God's approval upon it, that man need not be afraid that
he is a hypocrite; he would be a kind of hypocrite that one has never
discovered as yet. Hypocrites do their good works for applause. Is it
so with you? If so, be honest, and as you would convict another convict
yourself.

Again; hypocrites love titles, and honors, and respect from men. The
pharisee was never so happy as when he was called Rabbi, he never felt
himself so really great as when he was stuck up in the highest seat in
the synagogue. Then he must be good indeed. But the true Christian
cares not for titles. It is one of the marks of Christians–that they
have generally taken names of abuse to be their distinctive
appellations. There was a time when the term methodist was abusive.
What did those good men say who had it so applied to them? "You call us
methodists by way of abuse, do you? It shall be our title." The name
"Puritan" was the lowest of all; it was the symbol which was always
employed by the drunkard and swearer to express a godly man. "Well,"
says the godly man, "I will be called a puritan; if that is a name of
reproach I will take it." It has been so with the Christian all the
world over. He has chosen for himself the name which his enemy has
given him in malice. Not so the hypocrite. He takes that which is the
most honorable; he wishes always to be thought to belong to the most
respectable sect, and to hold an office in that sect which will confer
upon him the most honorable title. How, can you say from your inmost
soul, that in religion you are not seeking for honors or titles, but
that you can tread these beneath your feet, and want no higher degree
than that of a sinner saved by grace and no greater honor than to sit
at the feet of Jesus and to learn of him? Are you willing to be the
despised followers of the carpenter's son, as were the fishermen upon
the lake? If so, methinks, you have but little hypocrisy in you; but if
you only follow him because you are honored by men, farewell to the
sincerity of your religion, you are unmasked, and stand before the face
of this congregation an acknowledged hypocrite.

There was another evidence of an hypocrite which was equally good,
namely, that he strained at a gnat and swallowed a camel. Hypocrites in
these days do not find fault with us for eating with unwashen hands,
but they still fix upon some ceremonial omission. Sabbatarianism has
furnished hypocrisy with an extremely convenient refuge. Acts of
necessity done by the Christian, are the objects of the sanctimonious
horror of Pharisees, and labors of mercy and smiles of joy, are damning
sins in the esteem of hypocrites, if done upon a Sunday. Though our
Father worked hitherto, and Christ worked, and though works of
kindness, and mercy, and charity, are the duty of the Sabbath: yet if
the Christian be employed in these, he is thought to be offending
against God's holy law. The slightest infringement of that which is a
ceremonial observance becomes a great sin in the eye of the hypocrite.
But he, poor man, who will find fault with you for some little thing in
this respect, straining at a gnat, is the man you will find cheating,
adulterating his goods, lying, puffing, and grinding the poor. I have
always noticed that those very particular souls who look out for little
things, who are always searching out little points of difference, are
just the men who omit the weightier matters of the law, and while they
are so particular about the tithe of mint, and annis, and cummin; whole
loads of tithe-wheat are smuggled into their own barns. Always suspect
yourself when you are more careful about little than about great
things. If you find it hurts your conscience more to be absent from the
communion than to cheat a widow, rest quite assured that you are wrong.
The Thug, you know, thinks it a very proper thing to murder all he can;
but if a little of the blood of his victims should stain his lips, then
he goes off to the priest, and says he has committed a great sin; the
blood has been on his lips–what must he do to get the sin forgiven?
And there are many people of the same class in England. If they should
do anything on a Good Friday, or on Christmas-day, poor souls, it is
awfully wicked; but if they should be lazy all the six days of the
week, it no sin at all. Rest ye assured, that the man who strains at a
gnat but yet so allows the camel, is a deceiver. Mark you, my dear
friends, I like you to strain at the gnats; I have no objection to that
at all–only do not swallow the camel afterwards. Be as particular as
you like about right and wrong. If you think a thing is a little wrong,
it is wrong to you. "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." If you cannot
do it, believing yourself to be right in not doing it, though another
man could do it and do right, yet to you it would not be right. Strain
the gnats; they are not good things in your wines, strain them out; it
is well to get rid of them; but then do not open your mouth and swallow
a camel afterwards, for if you do that, you will give no evidence that
you are a child of God, but prove that you are a damnable hypocrite.

But read on in this chapter, and you will find that these people
neglected all the inward part of religion, and only observed the
outward. As our Saviour said, they "made clean the outside of the cup
and platter, but within they were full of extortion and excess." There
are many books which are excellently bound, but there is nothing within
them; and there are many persons that have a very one spiritual
exterior, but there is nothing whatever in the heart. Do you not know
some of them? Perhaps if you know yourself you may discover one. Do you
not know some who are precisely religious who would scarce omit
attending to a single means of grace, who practice the ritual in all
its forms and all its ceremonies, who would not turn aside as much as a
hair's breadth from any outward command? Before the world they stand as
eminently pious, because they are minutely attentive to the externals
of the sanctuary; but yet they are careless of the inward matter. So
long as they take the bread and wine they are not careful about whether
they have eaten the flesh and drunk the blood of Christ; so long as
they have been baptized with water they are not careful whether they
have been buried with Christ in baptism unto death. So long as they
have been up to the house of God they are satisfied. It is nothing to
them whether they have had communion with Christ, or not. No, they are
perfectly content, so long as they have the shell, without looking for
the kernel; the wheat may go where it pleases–the husk, and the chaff
and the straw, are quite sufficient and enough for them. Some people I
know of are like inns, which have an angel hanging outside for a sign,
but they have a devil within for a landlord. There are many men of that
kind; they take good care to have an excellent sign hanging out, they
must be known by all men to be strictly religious; but within, which is
the all-important matter, they are full of wickedness. But I have
sometimes heard persons mistake this matter. They say, "Ah! well, poor
men, he is a sad drunkard, certainly, but he is a very good-hearted man
at bottom." Now, as Rowland Hill used to say, that is a most
astonishing thing for any man to say of another, that he was bad at top
and good at bottom. When men take their fruit to market they cannot
make their customers believe, if they see rotten apples at the top,
that there are good ones at the bottom. A man's outward conduct is
generally a little better than his heart. Very few men sell better
goods than they put in the window. Therefore, do not misunderstand me.
When I say we must attend more to the inward than the outward, I would
not have you leave the outward to itself. "Make clean the outside of
the cup and platter"–make it as clean as you can, but take care also
that the inward is made clean. Look to that first. Ask thyself such
questions as these–"Have I been born again? Am I passed from darkness
to light? Have I been brought out of the realms of Satan into the
kingdom of God's dear Son? Do I live by private communion near to the
side of Jesus? Can I say that my heart panteth after the Lord, even as
the hart does alter the water-brooks? For if I cannot say this,
whatever my outward life may be, I am self-deceived and deceive others,
and the woe of the hypocrite falls upon me. I have made clean the
outside of the cup and platter, but the inward part is very wickedness.
Does that come home to any of you? Is this personal preaching? Then God
be blessed for it. May the truth be the death of your delusions.

You may know a hypocrite by another sign. His religion depends upon the
place, or upon the time of day. He rises at seven o'clock perhaps, and
you will find him religious for a quarter of an hour; for he is, as the
boy said, "saying his prayers to himself" in the first part of the
morning. Well, then you find him pretty pious for another half-hour,
for there is family prayer; but when the business begins, and he is
talking to his men, I won't guarantee that you will be able to admire
him. If one of his servants has been doing something a little amiss,
you will find him perhaps using angry and unworthy language. You will
find him too, if he gets a customer whom he thinks to be rather green,
not quite pious, for he will be taking him in. You will find, too, that
if he sees a good chance at any hour of the day, he will be very ready
to do a dirty trick. He was a saint in the morning, for there was
nothing to be lost by it; but he has a religion that is not too strict;
business is business, he says, and he puts religion aside by stretching
his conscience, which is made of very elastic material. Well, some time
in the evening you will find him very pious again, unless he is out on
a journey, where neither wife, nor family, nor church can see him, and
you will find him at a theater. He would not go if there was a chance
of the minister hearing of it, for then he would be excommunicated, but
he does not mind going when the eye of the church or of any of his
friends is not upon him. Fine clothes make fine gentlemen, and fine
places make fine hypocrites; but the man who is true to his God and to
his conscience, is a Christian all day, and all night long, and a
Christian everywhere. "Though you were to fill my house full of diver
and gold," he says, "I would not do a dirty action; though you should
give me the stars and the countless wealth of empires, yet I would not
do that which would dishonor God, or disgrace my profession." Put the
true Christian where he might sin, and be praised for it, and he will
not do it. He does not hate sin for the sake of the company, but he
hates it for its own sake. He says, "How can I do this great wickedness
and sin against God?" You shall find him a fallible man, but not a
false man, you shall find him full of infirmities, but not of
intentional lust and of designed iniquity. As a Christian, you must
follow Christ in the mire as well in the meads; you must walk with him
in the rain as well as in the sunshine, you must go with him in the
storm as well as in fair weather. He is no Christian who cannot walk
with Christ, come rags, come poverty, come contumely or shame. He is
the hypocrite who can walk with Christ in silver slippers and leave him
when it becomes necessary for him to go barefoot. The hypocrite's
religion is like a chamelion, it takes its color from the light which
falls upon it, but the Christian's religion is evermore the same. Is
this true then of any of us? Can we say we desire to be evermore the
same? Or do we change with our company and with the times? If so, we
are hypocrites confessed, and let us own it before God, and may God
make us sincere.

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," says he, "I
am not; I am economical." I say to him, "You are dishonest, you are a
thief." "No," says he, "I am only cute and sharp for the times." "Well,
but," I say to him, "you are proud and conceited." "Oh!" says he, "I
have only a proper and manly respect." "Ay, but you are a fawning,
cringing fellow." "No," says he, "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," says
he. Show him one who is liberal, doing what he can for his Master's
service, spending, and being spent for him; "Rash and imprudent," says
he, "extravagant; the man does not know what he is about." 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 skillful 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 scarce reveal it. Look at our beam-eyed
friend, he puts on a knowing look, and cries, "Allow me to extract this
mote for you?" "Thou hypocrites first cast out the beam out of thine
own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of
thy 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 thou be a Christian, I will tell thee what will be thy spirit,
it will be the very reverse; thou wilt be always making excuses for
others, but thou wilt never be making excuses for thyself. 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 knows 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.

II. And now we are going to CAST 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 honor. 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 honor; 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 honorable, respectable man. You go walking
up to your pew with your Bible and your hymn book, and everybody 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 case which you enjoy. The
minister often preaches a solemn, thundering sermon against sin. You
get off 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 amongst 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 the more exalted in your self-conceit through everything you
hear. And that is good too, is it not? very much in your favor,
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 traded with you? You
would not have got on 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 lay by, have you not? All that is the
bright side again. And besides that, what honors have you not received
in the church. Are not you made a deacon, or an elder; ay, perhaps a
minister too: how pleasant that is! And you puff yourself up, and you
feel satisfied. "Oh, what a good man am I, 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 me 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 much in your favor,
sir.

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 hypoerisy 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, need not
mind how he opens his mouth, nor where; but a man who lies, should be
very careful, and have a very good memory, and recollect all he has
ever said before, lest he should trip himself. 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 dealings hold their tongues and Sunday
doings vow as fond 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 disquietude 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,
vouchsafed 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 that which is breathed upon the Christian by the
lips of assurance. He can go to his bed, nay, he can go to his tomb in
peace, but the hypocrite is afraid of a shadow, and fleeth when no man
pursueth.

And last of all, Mr. Hypocrite, I see an item here which you usually
forget, it is this–that despite of 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 thou art–thou miserable pretender. There shall
be a special place reserved for thee amongst the damned. Think man what
shall be thy misery when thy secret deeds of iniquity are read before
an assembled universe, and men and angels utter one unanimous hiss
against thee. What shall it be when the mask is torn off thee when the
masquerade of thy hypocrisy is done and thou art stripped naked to thy
shame, to be observed of all and to be despised of all? What sayest
thou to this? Shalt thou go from thy deaconship, or from thy ministry,
to be among the devils in hell? Shalt thou go from the sacramental
table to drink the sulphurous cup of torment? Shalt thou descend from
the song of the sanctuary and from the house of God to the abode of
fiends and to the wailing of the damned? Yes, thou shalt as sure as
this word is true, if thou goest on in thy hypocrisy, Death shall find
thee out, and hell shall be thy doom, for the hope of the hypocrite is
as the spider's web, soon swept away; and where is he when God taketh
away his hope?

This then is the casting up of the hypocrite's account, and there is a
deficit of an infinite amount.

III. Now for the matter of the CURE OF THE HYPOCRITE. What shall we say
to it? Oh! my friends, I feel that in thus speaking of the hypocrite, I
have tried to speak severely, but I have not been able to reach the
heart as I could wish, because it is a mark of human nature that this
is the last sin of which we really suspect ourselves, and yet one into
which it is most easy to fall. Often do I fall on my knees in an agony
of doubt, and cry, "Lord, make me sincere; if I be deceived, undeceive
me." I do not think that any Christian will live long without some such
seasons of anguishing self-examination. Let me put it to you today, let
no one exempt himself. You may have been professing Christians for many
years, and yet you may have been hypocrites. Remember there was a
hypocrite among the apostles, so may there be among the ministers of
Christ. There have been deceivers among the apostolic churches, how
much more may we expect them among us. Do not look around to find them
out, it is God's business not yours, to find out hypocrites; but look
at yourselves to see whether you are not one. Driving along the other
day in the wind I observed a great branch fall just in front of me. I
remarked that it was rotten, and wondered within myself how long that
might have been upon the tree, and yet have been rotten after all. Then
I thought, "Oh! if the wind of persecution were to sweep through the
church, should I fall off like a rotten branch? Would not many of my
hearers fall off? They have been united to Christ professedly for a
long time, and have spoken for him, perhaps preached for him, but if
the time of trial, which shall try the earth, should come upon us
again, how many of us would stand? Oh! my hearers do not be content to
take your religion at second-hand; let it not be a superficial work. Do
not think that because you have seen me and have seen my elders, and we
have admitted you into the church, you are therefore all right. We have
been deceived many times; it is not hard work to deceive a kind heart.
I have looked into the eyes of some, and have tried to read their very
soul, and yet I have misjudged; I have seen tears in their eyes while
they have made a profession of Christ, and yet they have been deceivers
after all, and I have been very grossly taken in. In fact, the more
kind-hearted a man is the more will human nature endeavor to impose
upon him. I am certain I have used the utmost diligence to weed out of
my church those whom I have suspected of hypocrisy, and greater
diligence shall yet be used. But, oh, do deal with yourselves, I
beseech you. I will not send you to hell blind-folded if I can help it;
I do not wish to be in error myself, and God forbid that I should
suffer you to be deceived. Oh! if you be not true Christians, away with
your profession altogether. It it be not sound work, down with it.
Better see the house tumble now, than let it stand till the rain
descends and the floods come, and the winds beat upon it in the dread
eternity of the future. Oh, no, I would rather send every heart home
uncomfortable than let the hypocrite sit down at ease; I would rather
wound the child of God than allow the hypocrite to escape.

But now for the cure of the hypocrite. What shall we do to cure
ourselves of any hypocrisy that may exist among us? Let us recollect
that we cannot do anything in secret even if we try. The all-seeing
God, apprehended in the conscience, must be the death of hypocrisy. I
cannot try to deceive when I know that God is looking at me. It is
impossible for me to play double and false when I believe that I am in
the presence of the Most High, and that he is reading my thoughts and
the secret purposes of my heart. The only way in which the hypocrite
can play the hypocrite at all is by forgetting the existence of God.
Let us, therefore, recollect it–wherever I am, upon my bed or in my
secret chamber, God is there. There is not a secret word I speak in the
ear of a friend but God hears it. Do I seek out the most private part
of the city for the commission of sin–God is there. Do I choose the
shadow of night to cover my iniquity?–He is there looking upon me. The
thought of a present Deity, if it were fully realized, would preserve
us from sin; always looking on me, ever regarding me. We think we are
doing many things in secret, but there is nothing concealed from him
with whom we have to do. And the day is coming, when all the sins that
we have committed shall be read and published. Oh! what a blush shall
crimson the cheek of the hypocrite when God shall read the secret diary
of his iniquity! O my fellow-professors, let us always look upon our
actions in the light of the great outreading of them in the day of
judgment. Pause over everything you do, and say, "Can I bear to have
this sounded with a trumpet in the ear of all men?" Nay, take a higher
motive, and say, "Can I endure to do this and yet to repeat the words,
Thou God seest me.'" Ye may deceive men, and deceive yourselves, but
God ye cannot, God ye shall not. Ye may die with the name of Christ
upon your lips, and men may bury you in sure and certain hope of a
glorious resurrection, but God shall not be deceived neither by your
profession nor by men's opinion. He shall put you in the scales, and if
you be found wanting, he shall cry, "Away with him." He shall ring you,
and if you have not the ring of the pure coin of grace, he shall nail
you down for ever as a counterfeit. He shall strip the mask off you.
Virtue is most adorned, when unadorned the most. To detect you, you
shall be stripped naked, and every cloak shall be torn to tatters. How
will you endure this? Will ye dig into the depths to hide yourselves?
Will ye plunge into the sea to find a way of escape? Will ye cry for
the rocks to hide you, and the mountains to fall upon you? In vain
shall you cry. The all-seeing God shall read your soul, shall discover
your secret, shall reveal your hidden things, and tell the world that,
though you did eat and drink in his streets, though you preached his
name, yet he never knew you, you were still a worker of iniquity, and
must be driven away for ever.

Come let us just for one second reflect, that we shall soon lie upon
our death bed. A few more months, and you and I shall face the cruel
tyrant, death. It will be hard work to play the hypocrite then; when
the pulse is faint and few, when the eye-strings break, when the tongue
is cleaving to the roof of your mouth, it will be in vain to try
hypocrisy then. O may God make you sincere; for if you die with an
empty profession, you die indeed. Of all deaths, methinks the most
awful is that of the hypocrite, and after death, for him to lift up his
eyes and find himself lost–and for ever! O make sure work of it. May
God give you true grace and true faith, and may we all meet in heaven.
This is our earnest prayer, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.