i. 1) declares plainly that man needs something outside of himself to

guide him into that path of righteousness which alone is a way of life. The history of the world confirms this truth. Observation of every-day life tells the same tale.

+II. The need of human nature has been fully met.+ All that the mariner needs in order to keep the vessel's head right is light to see the compass. God in Christ is a sufficient light to man. Paul says: _"God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ"_ (2 Cor. iv. 6). Christ Himself tells us that it is those only who "follow Him" who have the "light of life" (John viii. 12). That the way thus revealed is fully adapted to meet man's need is proved by the results which follow from walking in it. The progress which a sick man makes towards health is the most convincing proof of the efficacy of his physician's treatment. The light which is shed upon men by the revelation of God, and especially by the Gospel, has been proven by its result upon individuals and upon nations, to be all-powerful to turn men from "darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God" (Acts xxvi. 18). The way of sin is the way of death--death morally, socially, and physically. The way of holiness is the only way of spiritual life to the soul and to the community, and ensures victory over the penalty of bodily death.

_ILLUSTRATION._

THE LAST WORDS OF HILDEBRAND.--One of the greatest of the sons of earth (if we measure greatness either by posthumous fame or posthumous influence) lay on his death bed. Prelates, princes, priests, devoted adherents and attendants stood around. Anxious to catch the last accents of that once oracular voice, the mourners were bending over him, when, struggling in the very grasp of death, he collected, for one last effort, his failing powers, and breathed out his spirit with the indignant exclamation, "I have loved righteousness and hated iniquity, and therefore I die in exile." . . . That he went into the unseen world consciously and deliberately with a lie in his right hand, is a supposition utterly inadmissible. Passionate earnestness and intense conviction were stamped upon all his words and works. . . . He had climbed the slippery steps of intrigue to the Papal throne, and to set that throne above all thrones of the earth, and to cause everyone, "both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond," to bow down in the dust before it, was thenceforward his sole aim and object. . . . It was for this that he enforced that celibacy of the clergy which has ever since been the law of the Church. He found thousands of married priests ministering at her altars in innocence of heart, thinking no sin, and fearing no dishonour. . . . He commanded them to put away their wives on pain of excommunication, which meant deprivation of all rights, spiritual, social, and human. . . . One cry of indignation, one prolonged and bitter wail of agony, arose throughout Europe, from the Apennines to the Baltic Sea. . . . Wives were torn from their husbands, children from their fathers. Popular fanaticism allied itself with Papal tyranny. . . . There was no pity for worse than widowed wives, and worse than orphaned children flung out upon the cold world to starve. The Pontiff trod his stern, remorseless way over broken hearts. . . . But he had a dangerous antagonist to encounter. . . . The Holy Roman Empire and the Holy Roman Church were together to dominate the world. But which of them was to dominate the other? Hildebrand's long contest with Henry IV. may be said to have decided the question. But with what weapons was it fought? We see the gallant Saxons tempted by bribes and promises to revolt, and then, in their hour of distress, treacherously abandoned by him who was at once their ally and "spiritual father," and to whom they addressed in vain those noble and pathetic remonstrances which, even to this day, cannot be read without emotion. Thus Hildebrand "loved righteousness.". . . But the Pontiff, so stern to his antagonists, could be mild to his allies. Keen swords in strong hands were necessary to support his power, the heaviest swords in Europe were borne by Norman knights. Robert, the conqueror of Sicily, William, the conqueror of England, were the representative men of this fierce and fiery race. . . . They were bloody, avaricious and unscrupulous. No more cruel conquerors ever turned a fruitful land into a waste, howling wilderness. No more remorseless oppressors ever trod down the poor with a heel of iron. . . . But their crimes were unrebuked by Hildebrand. . . . William was "addressed in the blandest accents of esteem and tenderness," while Robert, the tyrant of Sicily, "was embraced and honoured as the faithful ally of Rome." Thus Hildebrand "hated iniquity." That "way" in which he walked all his life long with a consistency of purpose and intensity of energy that moves our admiration, seemed "right unto himself," nay, it seemed to be pre-eminently the way of righteousness, but what shall we say of "the end thereof."--_Etchings from History,_ by Miss Alcock. See _Sunday at Home,_ February 15th, 1879.

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

Souls perish always with surprise. . . . But yet the _seeing_ here noted must be taken _cum grano._ Deep in the lost heart of the knowledge of its _"end,"_ rather its "afterpart." The way lasts for ever, and its _afterward_ "is the ways of death!" Deep in the lost man's heart he knows all this, and this makes a dark ground for his gaieties. (See next verse.)--_Miller._

There are some ways which can hardly "seem right" to any man--the ways, namely, of open and flagrant wickedness. But there are many ways, which, under the biassing influence of pride and corruption, "_seem_ right," and yet their _"end"_ is _"death."_ +I. The way of the sober, well-behaved worldling.+ He thinks of the law as if it had been only one table, the first being entirely overlooked. He passes among his circle for a man of good character, and flatters himself, in proportion as he is flattered by others, that all is right. . . . But his way is not the way of life, for God is not in it. +II. The way of the formalist.+ He follows, strictly and punctually, the round of religious observance. . . . But his heart has not been given to God. The world still has it. He compromises the retention of its affections for the things of sense by giving God the pitiful and worthless offering of outward homage. But it will not do. Those services cannot _terminate in life,_ which _have no life in them._ +III. The way of the speculative religionist.+ From education, or as a matter of curiosity, he has made himself an adept in religious controversy. He holds by the creed of orthodoxy, and imagines that this kind of knowledge is religion. But speculative opinion is not saving knowledge--is not the faith which "worketh by love" and "overcomes the world."--_Wardlaw._

Good intentions are not a justification for wrong doing (2 Sam. vi. 6). Judges xvii. 6 gives an awful illustration of the end of "every man doing that which is right in his own eyes." (Cf. the prohibition of this, Deut. xii. 8.)--_Fausset._

This may be his _easily besetting sin,_ the _sin of his constitution,_ the _sin of his trade._ Or it may be _his own false views of religion:_ he may have an _imperfect repentance,_ a _false faith,_ a _very false creed._ Many of the Papists, when they were burning the saints of God in the flames of Smithfield, thought they were doing God service.--_A. Clarke._

The self-delusion of one ends in death by the sentence of the judge, that of another in self-murder; of one in loathsome disease, of another in slow decay under the agony of conscience, or in sorrow over a henceforth dishonoured and distracted life.--_Delitzsch._

Sin comes clothed with a show of reason (Exodus i. 10); and lust will so blear the understanding, that he shall think there is great sense in sinning. "Adam was not deceived" (1 Tim. ii. 14), that is, he was not so much deceived by his judgment--though also by that too--as by his affection to his wife, which at length blinded his judgment. The heart first deceives us with colours; and when we are once a-doting after sin, then we join and deceive our hearts (James i. 26), using fallacious and specious sophism, to make ourselves think that lawful to-day which we held unlawful yesterday. . . . But it falls out with us as with him that, lying upon a steep rock, and dreaming of good matters befallen him, starts suddenly for joy, and breaks his neck at the bottom. As he that makes a bridge of his own shadow cannot but fall into the water, so neither can he escape the pit of hell who lays his own presumption in the place of God's promise.--_Trapp._

Some say, surely God will not punish a man hereafter who conscientiously walks up to his convictions, although these convictions be in point of fact mistaken. They err, knowing neither the inspired Word of God nor natural laws. Do men imagine that God, who has established this world in such exquisite order, and rules it by regular laws, will abdicate, and leave the better world in anarchy? This world is blessed by an undeviating connection between cause and effect; will the next be abandoned to random impulses, or left to chaos? . . . It is not even conceivable that the direction of a man's course could not determine his landing-place. . . . Perhaps the secret reason why an expectation so contrary to all analogy is yet so fondly entertained, is a tacit disbelief in the reality of things spiritual and eternal. We see clearly the laws by which effects follow causes in time; but the matters upon which these laws operate are substantial realities. If there were a firm conviction that the world to come is a substance, and not merely a name, the expectation would naturally be generated, that the same principles which regulate the Divine administration of the world now, will stretch into the unseen, and rule it all. . . . Truth shines like light from heaven; but the mind and conscience within the man constitute the reflector that receives it. Thence we must read off the impression, as the astronomer reads the image from the reflector at the bottom of his tube. When that tablet is dimmed by the breath of evil spirits dwelling within, the truth is distorted and turned into a lie.--_Arnot._

There is no way which doth not seem right in his eyes who liketh to go in it. For man is led in all things by a seeming good; and such is the foulness of doing amiss, that it must put on the painted colours of doing right, or else it cannot draw the eyes of man's mind unto it. But it is the not seeing the end which causeth the seeming rightness of the way, and it is _to man_ that it seems so, who is so apt to be deceived. He that hath a long fight, and in the beginning can see the end, he maketh the shortest journey and speedeth the best in it. If the beginning be a due consideration of the end, the end will be a beginning of true joy and comfort. It is not so in the way which seemeth to be right. For being but _a way,_ it is passed and ended, and then begin _the ways of death,_ which are said to be many, because there is an endless going on in them.--_Jermin._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 13.

TRUE AND FALSE MIRTH.

This proverb, as it stands in our English version, cannot be taken as universally true. The first clause is rendered by some translators--"Even in laughter the heart _may be_ sorrowful" (see Critical Notes), and experience and Bible teaching both necessitate our giving a limitation to the second clause also.

+I. Whether mirth will end in heaviness depends upon its character--therefore upon the character of the man who is mirthful.+ There is an innocent and right mirth, there is an ill-timed, guilty mirth. The end of lawful mirth is not heaviness. It is good for the _body._ A physician is glad to see his patient mirthful. He knows that it will act most beneficially, and assist his recovery to health. A mirthful man will not suffer so much physical injury from the wear and tear of life as one who is always sombre and melancholy. Lawful mirth is good for the _mind._ It is the unbending of the bow which breaks if it is kept always at its extreme tension. A man who is naturally mirthful--who is ever disposed to see men and things in their brightest colours, must be a creature of hope, and hope has power to surround those who possess her with a paradise of their own creation, which is very independent of outward circumstances. Natural, wholesome mirth will make a man much stronger to do and to bear all the duties and trials of life. But natural, lawful mirth is only proper to godly men. Christians are the only people in the world who have reason to be glad. All those who are worthy of the name ought to be able, amidst all the saddening influences of life, to hold fast such a confidence in God as shall leave room for the play even of mirth. But the man who is in a state of alienation from God has no reason to be mirthful, his mirth must be either feigned or the result of a thoughtless disregard of his own relations to God and eternity. The "end" of such mirth must be "heaviness."

+II. Laughter is not always an index of feeling.+ There is doubtless much that passes for mirth among the ungodly that is merely a blind to conceal intentions or feelings deeply hidden in the soul. The seducer laughs at the fears and misgivings of his victim, but his laugh is not the laugh of the light-hearted, God-fearing man. Its very ring tells any unprejudiced hearer that there is a flaw somewhere, and it is only assumed to enable him to effect his purpose. In such laughter there may not be present actual sorrow, but there is an entire absence of gladness of heart. But laughter often veils the deepest and most heartfelt misery. The poor drunkard will laugh at the debauchery of the past night while he feels a bitter consciousness of his degradation. Many a man laughs with his gay companions, and all the while sees a dread future rising up before him which he trembles to meet. The _character_ of him who laughs will afford the best clue by which to determine whether or not the laughter is the outcome of genuine mirth.

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

Already the wise king was beginning to experience what he more fully states in Eccles. ii. 2; vii. 6. Men's very pleasures turn into their opposites.--_Fausset._

Not of its own nature, of course; for a proverb has already said that there is a _"joy"_ which is not our foe. Not this is always the case; but there is such a case. Because the wicked get nothing really but their "ways" (verse 14).--_Miller._

The sun doth not ever shine: there is a time of setting. No day of jollity is without its evening of conclusion, if no cloud of disturbance prevent it with an overcasting. First God complains, men sing, dance, and are jovial and neglectful; at last man shall complain, and "God shall laugh at their calamity." Who should God be conjured to receive that spirit dying which would not receive God's Spirit living?--_T. Adams._

As soon might true joy be found in hell as in the carnal heart. As soon might the tempest-tossed ocean be at rest as the sinner's conscience (Isa. lvii. 20, 21). He may feast in his prison, or dance in his chains. . . . But if he has found a diversion from present trouble, has he found a cover from everlasting misery? It is far easier to drown conviction than to escape damnation. . . . But the end of that mirth implies another with a different end. Contrast the prodigal's mirth in the far country with his return to his father's house when "they began to be merry."--_Bridges._

Every human heart carries the feeling of disquiet and of separation from its true home, and of the nothingness, transitoriness of all that is earthly; and in addition to this, there is many a secret sorrow in everyone which grows out of his own corporeal and spiritual life, and from his relation to other men; and this sorrow, which from infancy onward is the lot of the human heart, and which more and more deepens and diversifies itself in the course of life, makes itself perceptible even in the midst of laughter, in spite of the mirth and merriment, without being able to be suppressed or expelled for the soul, returning always the more intensely, the more violently we may for a time have kept it under, and sunk it in unconsciousness. From the fact that sorrow is the fundamental condition of humanity, and forms the back-ground of laughter, it follows that it is not good for man to give himself up to joy, viz., sensual (worldly), for to it the issue is sorrow.--_Delitzsch._

There are two sorts of joys--the joy natural and the joy spiritual; the joy of vanity and the joy of verity; a joy in the creature and a joy in the Creator; a joy in a mutable thing and a joy in a matter immutable. The spiritual joys are the joys of the palace. The natural joys are the joys of prisoners. These are to worldlings that are without God seeming joys, because they know no better. They cannot get Penelope, they will be suitors to her maidens. . . . The godly are like the ant, they are first weary, then merry; but the ungodly are like the grasshopper, first they sing and then they sorrow.--_Bishop Abernethy,_ 1630.

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF VERSE_ 14.

SATISFACTION AND DISSATISFACTION.

+I. The position and character of the backslider.+ The word suggests that there has been a time in the past when his moral standing was high. There must have once been a going forward, if there is now a sliding backward. Up to a certain time progress was made. Of many followers of our Lord it is written that from a certain period "they went back and walked no more with Him" (John vi. 66). They had walked with Him in outward discipleship at least, and it is probable that their hearts had been more or less influenced for good. Their "walking no more" was a going back probably in outward life, certainly in right disposition towards the Christ of God. The man of our text is "a backslider in heart." Then there must once have been a going forward of his soul towards God and goodness, and outward movement towards righteousness and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. But the forward movement has ceased--the retrograde movement has set in within the man, although it may not immediately be seen in his outward conduct. Solomon was himself a sad example of a backslider. In his early days his heart was turned towards his God, his desires after righteousness were strong, his moral progress a reality. No one can read his dedication prayer without feeling that the man who offered it stood in right relations with his God--that his aspirations were after righteousness of heart and life. He is himself a proof of the certain fact that a man can terribly deteriorate in character even after he has given evidence of a progression in the good and the right way.

+II. His portion.+ "He shall be filled with his own ways." Retribution will flow from both his past and present character. The remembrance of what he once was will embitter the present. To think of what _might have been_ is in itself a hell when a man feels that by his own act he is now far lower in the moral scale than he once was. How it must embitter the misery of the fallen angels to remember that they once stood sinless before God's throne, and, but for their own act, would stand there still. In one of the writings of Lucian, he represents the ghost of a man who has left the world coming up for judgment before the bar of Rhadamanthus. He had lived so depraved a live that his judge exclaims that a new punishment is needed that will be in some degree adequate to his unparalleled villany. A poor cobbler, standing by, suggests that it will be enough if the cup of Lethe, which was supposed to obliterate all remembrance of the past, and which each shade was permitted to drink as he passed from the dread tribunal, should, in this instance, be withheld. And the criminal was therefore condemned to remember for ever what he had done in life, and this was held to be retribution sufficient for the worst of crimes. And if this is true of every wicked man, surely to be filled with the remembrance of what he once was will be the bitterest cup that can be the portion of every backslider.

+III. The portion of the godly man.+ He, too, shall be filled with his own ways, but it will be the fulness of satisfaction. The foundation of real happiness is in character alone. The blessedness of the Eternal God comes from nothing outside of Himself. It has its foundation in His own perfect character. So nothing outside a man can yield him satisfaction. It must come from what he is--from his partaking of some degree of the character of the ever-blessed God. In proportion as he approaches that--in proportion as he brings forth the fruits of righteousness--will he be conscious of a well-spring of satisfaction which is quite independent of outward circumstances. This well-spring has the advantage of being always at hand. A man may often find himself shut out from external sources of joy, death may part him from those who have largely ministered to his happiness, but wherever he is--whether in this world or another--a "well of water" which is "within him" (John iv. 14) is always at hand. It is needless to remark that this well-spring does not originate with man, but is the outcome of relationship and communion with God.

_OUTLINES AND SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS._

_Temporary_ backsliding may take place in the true children of God; but the "backslider" _here_ is evidently he who, in the language of the apostle, "goes back into perdition." Solomon alludes to such _perpetual_ backsliding on the part of those who thus prove themselves to have been no more than professors--"having the form of godliness, but denying the power thereof." Such characters, whatever appearances they present to the eye of men,--even of the people of God, with whom they associate, never were vitally and savingly one with Christ, and one with true believers in Him. This is as plainly affirmed as it is in the power of language to affirm it. _"They went out from us but they were not of us; for if they had been of us they would no doubt have continued with us; but they went out, that they might be made manifest that they were not all of us"_ (1 John ii. 19).--_Wardlaw._

Every spot is not the leprosy. Every mark of sin does not prove a backslider. "A man may be overtaken in a fault" (Gal. vi. 1); or it may be the sin of ignorance (Lev. iv. 2; Heb. v. 2) or sin abhorred, resisted, yet still cleaving (Rom. vii. 15-24). _Backsliding_ implies a _wilful_ step; not always open, but the more dangerous, because hidden. Here was no open apostasy, perhaps no tangible inconsistency. Nay, the man may be looked up to as an eminent saint, but he is a _backslider in heart.--Bridges._

The upright is satisfied from his own conscience, which though it be not the original spring, yet is the conduit at which he drinks peace, joy and encouragement.--_Flavel._

The wicked are travelling; and they seek an end; and they confidently expect it, but they never get it. What they do get, therefore is their journey. The old man has got about enough of travelling, but enough, if he be an impenitent man, of nothing else, in either world, whatever. The saint may have very little on the earth, but he has made more than his own journey. _"The backslider in heart."_ Not a Christian. A Christian never really backslides. Not, therefore, what our usage means, but a _heart sliding back,_ as every lost heart does. The writer has but written a fresh name for the impenitent. Such a sliding heart will just have its journey at last, and nothing for it.--_Miller._

What a world of sound theology lies in the deliverance of this verse--telling us much how the rewards and punishments of the Divine administration lie in the subjective state, apart from the objective circumstances.--_Chalmers._

Good men _know within themselves_ that they have in heaven a better and more enduring substance (Heb. x. 34); _within themselves,_ they know it not in others, not in books, but in their own experience and apprehension. They can feelingly say that "in doing God's will"--not only _for_ doing it, or _after_ it was now done, but even _while_ they were doing it--"there was great reward" (Psa. xix. 11). Righteousness is never without a double joy to be its strength: "Joy in hand and in hope, in present possession and in certain reversion" (Bernard).--_Trapp._

All engineering proceeds upon the principle of reaching great heights or depths by almost imperceptible inclines. The adversary of men works by this will. When you see a man who was once counted a Christian standing shameless on a mountain-top of impiety, or lying in the miry pit of vice, you may safely assume that he has long been worming his way in secret on the spiral slimy track by which the old serpent marks and smooths the way to death. . . . Whatever the enormity it may end in, backsliding begins in the heart. . . . There is a weighing beam exposed to public view, with one scale loaded and resting on the ground, while the other dangles high and empty in the air. Everybody is familiar with the object, and its aspect. One day curiosity is arrested by observing the low and loaded beam is swinging aloft, while the side which hung empty and light has sunk to the ground. Speculation is set on edge by the phenomenon, and at rest again by the discovery of its cause. For many days certain diminutive but busy insects had, for some object of their own, been transferring the material from the full to the empty scale. Day by day the sides approached an equilibrium, but no change took place in their position. At last a grain more removed from one side and laid in the other reversed the preponderance, and produced the change. There is a similar balancing of good and evil in the human heart. The sudden outward change proceeds from a gradual inward preparation.--_Arnot._

Every man, both good and bad, shall feel himself sufficiently recompensed for his service.--_Dod._

"A good man shall be satisfied from himself." +I. He can bear his own company, his own thoughts.+ What is it that makes solitude so irksome to mankind? They cannot bear reflection. . . . Generally, we know, all is not right. Men do not like to look steadily at themselves, because, like the bankrupt tradesman who dreads striking a balance, they have a secret suspicion that their lives will not bear a rigid scrutiny. . . . The good man does not fear to probe his wound to the bottom. +II. He is independent, as other men are not, of earthly vicissitudes.+ Men who have their portion here are never safe. The world is a disappointing world, but the good man's eyes are opened to the glories of a better. . . . It is a doomed world, but his treasure is safe. . . . Let other men be suddenly driven from the pleasures, occupations, and companions with which habit has made them familiar, and they are like shipwrecked voyagers whose wealth has all gone down in the vessel in which they sailed. He is like a man who has escaped to shore with a casket of jewels in which his whole fortune is invested. +III. He stands for judgment, not at the world's bar, but at the tribunal of his own conscience.+ "It is a small thing," said St. Paul, "that I should be judged of you, or of man's judgment." Was he, then, a morose man who cared nothing about his neighbours? No, but his conscience was ruled by God's law, and in the very act of submitting himself to Christ as the Lord of his life and soul, he became comparatively independent of all besides.--_J. H. Gurney._

_MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH.--Verses_ 15-18.

REVELATIONS OF CHARACTER.

+I. Four marks of a foolish man.+ When a piece of ground is left to itself--left in the hand of nature alone, without the intervention of the hand of man--there will be a variety in its productions, but there will be no wheat--no grain to give seed to the sower and bread to the eater. When human nature is left to itself there will of necessity be a variety in its productions, but, however unlike they may be in many respects, they are all alike in this, that they are equally unprofitable to God and injurious to man. We have here--1. _The man who believes too much in others._ "The simple believeth every word." It is possible to have too much faith. The blessedness of having it in abundance depends entirely upon the foundation upon which it rests--upon the object _in_ which a man trusts--in the person in whom he believes. Those who have faith in the words of men and women of worthless character--like the young man of chap. vii. 7--will find their ruin will be in proportion to the confidence. We stigmatise as a fool the man who shows his purse to any wayfarer whom he meets upon the high road; we know that his fellow-traveller may be only seeking a fitting time and place to rob him. In this world of fallen men and women we must withhold our faith until we have some knowledge. There are many now in the world whose foolish credulity has led to the other extreme of universal scepticism. From believing everybody and everything they have come to believe nothing, and to brand "all men" as "liars." He who begins by being a "simple one," and believeth every word, will most likely end in being a disbeliever and a scoffer. We are not required to believe in God without ground for our belief. He does not demand from us an unreasoning credulity, but an intelligent faith. 2. _The man who believes too much in himself._ He "rages," or is presumptuous, and is "confident." As the foolishness of the first man took the form of over-confidence in others, so this man shows his want of wisdom by undue confidence in himself. (On this character see Homiletics on chap. xii. 15, page 271.) 3. _The man who is easily offended._ Such a man reveals his folly by the insignificance of the matters which generally arouse his passion. The man who is "soon angry" is generally more angry about trifles than about things of importance. A parent who is easily vexed by his children's transgressions is generally more severe in punishing those that really least deserve punishment. Such a person does not take into account the amount of moral wrong done, but the amount of immediate and personal inconvenience which he suffers. For if a man is "soon angry" he has no time to put things in their right light--to weigh the offence in the balance of right and of reason. The man who is soon angry shows that his mind is not filled with high and noble aspirations; if it were, there would be no room for vexation at small offences. God is "slow to anger," because only things worthy of His notice can arouse it--because He is filled with high and holy purposes of good towards the human race. (See also on chap. xii. 16, page 272.) 4. _The man who, by wicked plots against his fellow-men, incurs their hatred._ This man possesses more mental activity than the others. But he uses it against himself, because he uses it against his fellow-men. "He is of wicked devices," and "is hated." A man cannot devise plans of evil any more than of good without mental labour. Probably Satan is the most active creature in the universe. He is ever "going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it." And many of his human children imitate him in this respect. This man has not the simplicity of him who "believeth every word," nor of him who haughtily rejects the counsel of others, nor of him who allows his feelings to carry him away. He sets about his plans with cool deliberateness, but he is a fool for all that. He is a fool, because, as we have seen over and over again, his plans of wickedness will not only fail, but will overthrow himself (see chap. xii. 3, 5 and 7). But the special element of foolishness in the man of wicked devices which is here noted is that his way of life is sure to bring him the hatred of his fellow-creatures. No man can afford to set at nought the good-will of his fellow-men. To be an object of universal execration is only the lot of a man who lives to injure others, and it is a very poor investment of life to put it to a use which will only bring such interest.

+II. The marks of a wise man.+ 1. _He walks through life with caution._ To say that a man "looketh well to his going" is only saying that he acts like a rational and responsible creature. Even the animals, in obedience to the instinct of self-preservation, look to their goings, and avoid many dangers which beset them. The smaller birds, though apparently flying about without any care, have a quick eye for the hawk soaring above them, or for the cat crouching beneath. All creatures, whether brutes or men, instinctively look to their goings so far as regards their bodily life. The traveller on a dangerous road instinctively picks his way--does not set down his foot without looking to see where there is firm ground to tread upon. The man whose lot is cast in a city where a pestilence is raging naturally takes all possible precautions to avoid the infection. A mariner does his best to guide his vessel clear of rocks and quicksands. The prudent man extends this caution to every act of his life. As a merchant, he weighs probabilities before he embarks in any enterprise. He does not enter into speculations as men engage in a game of billiards. He considers the results of his actions in relation to others as well as to himself. Above all, he looks to his goings in relation to their morality; he frames his life, as we have before seen (chap. xiii. 14), according to the law of God within him in his conscience, and without him, in the revealed word. 2. _He walks thus cautiously because he recognises moral danger._ He _"fears."_ This makes all the difference in the lives of men. Some recognise the fact that they are in a world full of moral pit-falls and rocks which will be their ruin unless they take heed to their ways, and others do not. Some know the moral atmosphere is laden with moral pestilence, but others do not discern its impurity. The wise man "departs from evil" as he would involuntarily turn aside if he saw a deadly serpent lying in his path, or would parry a sword-thrust made at him by an adversary. His main business is, not to take care of his _life,_ but of his _character._

+III. The respective reward of the wise and foolish.+ The first are _crowned_ by an increase of knowledge, the second have an _inheritance;_ but it is only to be given over to their foolishness. The wise man's moral sense becomes more developed "by reason of use" it is more and more able "to discern good and evil" (Heb. v. 14). He is more and more removed from that simplicity which "believeth every word"--he can "try the spirits, whether they are of God" (1 John