, whatever
tempts you to fancy yourself something different from your fellow-men,
superior to your fellow men, safer than them, more favoured by God than
them, that is a temptation of the spirit of pride. Whatever tempts you
to think that you can do without God's help and God's providence;
whatever tempts you to do anything extraordinary, and show yourself off,
that you may make a figure in the world; and above all, whatever tempts
you to antinomianism, that is, to fancy that God will overlook sins in
you which He will not overlook in other men--all these are temptations
from the spirit of pride. They are temptations like our Lord's
temptations. These temptations came on our Lord more terribly than they
ever can on you and me, just because He was the Son of Man, the perfect
Man, and, therefore, had more real reason for being proud (if such a
thing could be) than any man, or than all men put together. But He
conquered the temptations because He was perfect Man, led by the Spirit
of God; and, therefore, He knew that the only way to be a perfect man was
not to be proud, however powerful, wise, and glorious He might be; but to
submit Himself humbly and utterly, as every man should do, to the will of
His Father in Heaven, from whom alone His greatness came.

Now the spirit of pride cannot understand the beauty of humility, and the
spirit of self-will cannot understand the beauty of obedience; and,
therefore, it is reasonable to suppose the devil could not understand our
Lord. If He be the Son of God, so might Satan argue, He has all the more
reason to be proud; and, therefore, it is all the more easy to tempt Him
into shewing His pride, into proving Himself a conceited, self-willed,
rebellious being--in one word, an evil spirit.

And therefore (as you will see at first sight) the first two temptations
were clearly meant to tempt our Lord to pride; for would they not tempt
you and me to pride? If we could feed ourselves by making bread of
stones, would not that make us proud enough? So proud, I fear, that we
should soon fancy that we could do without God and His providence, and
were masters of nature and all her secrets. If you and I could make the
whole city worship and obey us, by casting ourselves off this cathedral
unhurt, would not that make us proud enough? So proud, I fear, that we
should end in committing some great folly, or great crime in our conceit
and vainglory.

Now, w