COUNTERFEIT CHRISTIANS.
By C. H. Yatman
Looks don't count. Many a deception these days. Men and women alike are counterfeit. I handled a queer five-dollar bill the other day. It had done a heap of good—paid the widow's rent, bought food for the hungry, squared up three or four bad accounts that had been worse than cancers for worry, made a church treasurer happy when he found it on the plate, and made the sexton happier when his back salary was partly paid by it; but, in due course of time, it came to the bank whose name it bore, and lo! the teller threw it out. "What's wrong?" asked the depositor. All its good deeds did not make it pass the bank, where its real character was discovered. I'm thinking of another day that is yet to come. It may be that some have done a heap of good, plenty of people pass them on for genuine Christians. They looked all right; sat in the pew like saints; scattered dollars like dew; but they have no God. He does not dwell in their heart. They have His name, but not Him. There are counterfeit Christians, just as there are counterfeit bills, both are bad, in spite of looks.—C. H. Yatman.