The Evasive Spirit of the Sinner.
THE loss of candor, that glory of Adam's true and primeval manliness, was the very first symptom of his fall; for when God spoke to him of his transgression, instead of acknowledging its full enormity and seeking pardon, he resorted to that most miserable excuse, “The woman gave me of the tree and I did eat,” and the woman, with the same self-justifying innocence, said, “The serpent beguiled me and I did eat.” And doubtless had the serpent been appealed to, he also would have dodged the responsibility and been quite as innocent as the rest. No one was at all to blame; and in this self-interpreted sense, no one has ever been to blame for all the numberless iniquities which have covered our earth with ruin and desolation. With such parentage as fallen Adam and Eve, it is not at all surprising that Cain, the first-born son, should have found it in his heart to evade the truth, and when questioned about the murdered Abel, should have asked that most insulting question, “Am I my brother's keeper?” This was worse if possible than that question of a later sinner, “Who is my neighbor?” It combined the element of defiance with the darkest falsehood, and the stung consciousness of guilt. And at least the spirit of the same question has echoed down the ages from that time to this, as the standing self-justification of oppression and all wrong. “Am I my brother's keeper?” says the tyrant, when the truth of God points him to the crushed millions whose lives have purchased his advancement to a throne. “Am I my brother's keeper?” asks the demoralizing author, when told that his books are corrupting and ruining thousands among the youth. “Am I my brother's keeper?” says the rumseller, when he is shown the wretchedness he has produced. I have not compelled the heads of these suffering families to drink. I must get a living. “Am I my brother's keeper?” The difference between the two questions, “Am I my brother's keeper?” and “Who is my neighbor?” is, that one attempts to justify an actual transgression which has been committed while the other excuses neglect of duty. One is designed to cover sins of commission, the other those of omission. And they stand thus, each in its place, as two representatives of all the excuses that men ever make to God for crimes committed, and for duties neglected; though the variety of cases occurring under these two generic heads, has been almost endless. Lot, halting and pleading for a home in the city of Zoar, because it was a little one. Saul sparing the king of the Amalekites, as if he had a right to make even one exception to God's commands. David placing the faithful and unsuspecting Uriah in the front of battle, as if murder perpetrated thus indirectly involved the less of guilt. Micah obtaining a true Levite as priest for his molten images, with the idea that even idolatry would be acceptable to God, if attended with the ordinances of religion. All these exemplify the same evasive nature of the human heart.—Gen. Evangelist.