sitive order, and we did every
duty perfectly, the moment we began to pride ourselves upon the fact, we
should drop into a hell of worthlessness. What are we for but to do our
duty? We must do it, and think nothing of ourselves for that, neither
care what men think of us for anything. With the praise or blame of men
we have nought to do. Their blame may be a good thing, their praise
cannot be. But the worst sort of the praise of men is the praise we give
ourselves. We must do nothing to be seen of ourselves. We must seek no
approbation even, but that of God, else we shut the door of the kingdom
from the outside. His approbation will but quicken our sense of
unworthiness. What! seek the praise of men for being fair to our own
brothers and sisters? What! seek the praise of God for laying our hearts
at the feet of him to whom we utterly belong? There is no pride so
mean--and all pride is absolutely, essentially mean--as the pride of
being holier than our fellow, except the pride of being holy. Such
imagined holiness is foulness. Religion itself in the hearts of the
unreal, is a dead thing; what seems life in it, is the vermiculate life
of a corpse.

There is one word in the context, as we have it in the authorized
version, that used to trouble me, seeming to make its publicity a
portion of the reward for doing certain right things in secret: I mean
the word _openly_, at the ends of the fourth, the sixth, and the
eighteenth verses, making the Lord seem to say, 'Avoid the praise of
men, and thou shalt at length have the praise of men.'--'Thy father,
which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.' _Thy reward shall be
seen of men! and thou seen as the receiver of the reward!_ In what other
way could the word, then or now, be fairly understood? It must be the
interpolation of some Jew scribe, who, even after learning a little of
the Christ, continued unable to conceive as reward anything that did not
draw part at least of its sweetness from the gazing eyes of the
multitude. Glad was I to find that the word is not in the best
manuscripts; and God be thanked that it is left out in the revised
version. What shall we think of the daring that could interpolate it!
But of like sort is the daring of much exposition of the Master's words.
What men have not faith enough to receive, they will still dilute to the
standard of their own faculty of reception. If any one say, 'Why did the
Lord let the word remain there so long, if he never