the
grave. This is the death of heart; the sorrow of the world has worked
death.

Again there is a sorrow of the world, when sin is grieved for in a
worldly spirit. There are two views of sin: in one it is looked upon
as wrong--in the other, as producing loss--loss for example, of
character. In such cases, if character could be preserved before the
world, grief would not come; but the paroxysms of misery fall upon our
proud spirit when our guilt is made public. The most distinct instance
we have of this is in the life of Saul. In the midst of his apparent
grief, the thing still uppermost was that he had forfeited his kingly
character: almost the only longing was, that Samuel should honour him
before his people. And hence it comes to pass, that often remorse and
anguish only begin with exposure. Suicide takes place, not when the
act of wrong is done, but when the guilt is known, and hence too, many
a one becomes hardened who would otherwise have remained tolerably
happy; in consequence of which we blame the exposure, not the guilt;
we say if it had hushed up, all would have been well; that the servant
who robbed his master was ruined by taking away his character; and
that if the sin had been passed over, repentance might have taken
place, and he might have remained a respectable member of society. Do
not think so. It is quite true that remorse was produced by exposure,
and that the remorse was fatal; the sorrow which worked death arose
from that exposure, and so far exposure may be called the cause: had
it never taken place, respectability, and comparative peace, might
have continued; but outward respectability is not change of heart.

It is well known that the corpse has been preserved for centuries in
the iceberg, or in antiseptic peat; and that when atmospheric air was
introduced to the exposed surface it crumbled into dust. Exposure
worked dissolution, but it only manifested the death which was already
there; so with sorrow, it is not the living heart which drops to
pieces, or crumbles into dust, when it is revealed. Exposure did not
work death in the Corinthian sinner, but life.

There is another form of grief for sin, which the apostle would not
have rejoiced to see; it is when the hot tears come from pride. No two
tones of feeling, apparently similar, are more unlike than that in
which Saul exclaimed, "I have played the fool exceedingly," and that
in which the Publican crie