"Judge not; the workings of his brain

And of his heart thou canst not see;
What looks to thy dim eyes a stain,

In God's pure light may only be

A scar, brought from some well-won field,
Where thou wouldst only faint and yield.

"The fall thou darest to despise,

May be the angel's slackened hand
Has suffered it, that he may rise,
And take a firmer, surer stand;
Or, trusting less to earthly things,

May henceforth learn to use his wings."

6. The guilt of lying, as seen by God.

We measure causes by effects to a very great extent. Our limited faculties compel us to this, especially when the cause is occult and intangible. Our difficulty is heightened when not only causes but results are hidden from sight, though actual, and it may be destructive. The judgments of God are usually delayed or indirect. Falsehood does not assail the fabric or peace of society so openly as more violent sins and crimes do; and so, either occasional or as a habit, it is a wide-spread sin secretly and surely sapping the foundations of character, and imperilling the eternity of multitudes, many of whom may be reputable and honored. But while men, for these or any reasons, may think lightly of falsehood, pronouncing it perhaps ungentlemanly, in this frowning judgment, as startling as any in the history of man, swift, and, as we must believe, irreparable, in both worlds, we see what God thinks of it.

But such judgments should not have been necessary. The sin of lying should have been plain enough without them. It was, or the judgments would have been unjust, and therefore withheld.

All speech is a tacit promise of truth, because of an im

plied understanding that truth is expected. All the pleasure and benefit of conversation depend upon. confidence in veracity. Hence, by the common law of universal expectation and universal interest, truth must always have been known to be required by him who gave to man his mental and moral constitution. The wild Indian, still in our western territory, is said to be more truthful than the average white man settled by his side. Whatever else the untutored and corrupted red man may not know or may have lost, he seems not to have forgotten that the Great Spirit is a God of truth, and requires the truth of all his children.

Scarcely anything in moral character is more ominous than untruthfulness. The physician sometimes sees a symptom by which, though small and almost sure to escape the notice of others, he is more alarmed than he would be by racking pains or goaded pulse. The plague spot of the soul, well-nigh fatal, is untruthfulness. If it appear in the spring-time of life, it is stubborn: only the most rigorous and patient husbandry will eradicate it. If confirmed by the practice of years, the surgery of divine grace may be compelled to long and severest processes.

God bids man to love his neighbor as himself: falsehood works all manner of evil to one's neighbor when only careless. We act upon information; and when that information is false, disappointment, chagrin, and loss are the consequences. Serious damage to the credit of business men, irreparable wrong to reputation, embarrassment to beneficent enterprises, have often resulted from idle rumor carelessly sprung and circulated. None can expect to escape the displeasure of God who bring such suffering upon the least of his children.

But falsehood is more often deliberately malicious in its

origin. It is the weapon of a cowardly foe wishing to strike, but fearing the consequences. The hate of an assassin is joined to the spirit of a poltroon. "He that hateth his brother is a murderer;" and nothing more truly gives expression to hate, and intensifies it, than a falsehood. The Creator has raised such defences of truth in our moral constitution, that when truthfulness goes, self-respect goes with it; and the liar must go through the world with the consciousness of a living moral suicide.

7. A fatal pre-eminence of the sin of lying: it may be committed as directly against God as against our fellow

men.

Strange as it may seem, we do attempt to deceive Omniscience. The sin of Ananias and Sapphira illustrates how easily such guilt may be incurred in the ostensible performance of religious duty. No station is too high or too sacred to escape it.

The minister of Christ professes to leave all worldly ambitions, and bring the avails of all that he has to his Lord's treasury. No contract with his fellow-man is more explicit and personal. Should self-seeking taint his offering, or filch away any portion of his strength, usually his best,

the guilt of Ananias must lie at his door. Love of reputation, of power, entices conscious ability; selfish plans seem to be authorized by the great law of self-preservation and by the example of a busy world; but hands in which. are the utensils of sacrifice, palms uplifted to God, must be clean; else ordination vows are broken. (Isa. lii. 11.)

Joining the church, usually in the presence of many witnesses, is a promise not so much to the church as to her great Head of full and final self-surrender. How many, like Ananias, keep back a part? Sadder yet, with how

many is it only an act of refined selfishness; the professed consecration to Christ only a scheme for culture and comfort? The Holy Ghost is as really in all true members of the church to-day, as he was in Peter; hence all false and incomplete vows now made in entering that church are repetitions of the sin of Ananias and Sapphira.

The same guilt pertains to all plans, that, under the guise of service to God, are really some subtle service of self. Such are gifts which, though ostensibly to the church, are only a price paid for reputation, or a cover for iniquitous plans and deeds.

The Sunday school superintendent, or teacher, assumes functions that concern eternity. Does not the simple acceptance of such duty substantially promise that these solemn trusts shall not be slighted, that they shall out-rank all other pursuits and interests? Does not a careless discharge of such duty keep back a part of what had been promised, not to man, but to God?

Thoroughly apprehended, this closing lesson of our Scripture searches all professed Christian life as with the blaze of noonday. All unfaithfulness is more than simple omission it is a breach of faith, and we have to do with him who "trieth the hearts and reins." (Ps. vii. 9.) But let not the faithful, though obscure and timid, follower be disheartened. He that looked a blessing upon the widow's mite knows who are faithful, and their reward is sure. "For if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not.” (2 Cor. viii. 12.)

"And by the hands of the apostles were many signs and wonders wrought among the people."

If we would know Christianity, we must turn to the record of her primitive life. She is revealed in the perfection of her beauty and power only while the fairness of her youth was still upon her. It is with her as with some marvel of architectural beauty, - to appreciate the perfection of whose design, we need to behold it before the tooth of time has impaired its grace and finish. It may still reveal somewhat of its original glory when weather-worn and defaced by injury; and even when a sad and dismantled ruin, an arch, or a window, or carved ornament, that has survived all mishaps, may still suggest it; but the heart will confess a wish that it could have seen the building when new and unmarred by hostile powers.

This desire is granted us in respect to our Christian faith. In the Book of Acts a picture is found, which shows us what it was before corruption had crept into the church to stain its purity and disfigure its aspect.

What were its characteristics? They are set forth and illustrated in the narrative of facts contained in that portion of the fifth chapter of Acts chosen for the Scripture Lesson. The reading of it is like looking through a window upon the life of the primitive church. The text may