The Hatefulness of Sin.
By Guthrie
Look now at sin; pluck off that painted mask,—and turn upon her face the lamp of the Bible. We start: it reveals a death's head. I stay not to quote texts descriptive of sin: it is a debt a burden, a thief, a sickness, a leprosy, a plague, a poison, a serpent, a sting,—everything that man hates it is; a load of evils beneath whose most crushing, intolerable pressure "the whole creation groaneth." Name me the evil that springs not from this root—the crime that lies not at this door. Who is the hoary sexton that digs man his grave? Who is the painted temptress that steals his virtue? Who is the sorceress that first deceives and than damns the soul! Sin! Who, with icy breath, blights the sweet blossoms of youth? Who, brings gray hairs with sorrow to the grave? Who, by a more hideous metamorphosis than Ovid ever fancied, changes sweet children into vipers, tender mothers into monsters, and their fathers into worse than Herods, the murderers of their own innocents? Sin! Who casts the apple of discord on home hearts? Who lights the torch of war and carries it over happy lands? Who, by divisions in the Church, rends Christ's seamless robe? Sin! Who is the Delilah that sings the Nazarite asleep, and delivers the strength of God into the hands of the uncircumcised? Who, with smiles in her face, and honeyed flattery on her tongue, stands in the door to offer the sacred rites of hospitality, and when suspicion sleeps, pierces our temples with a nail? What Syren is this, who seated on a rock by the deadly pool, smiles to deceive, sings to lure, kisses to betray, and flings her arms around his neck, to leap with us into perdition? Sin! Who petrifies the soft and gentle heart, hurls reasons from her throne, and impels sinners, mad as Gadarene swine, down the precipice into the lake of fire? What witch of hell is it that thus bewitches us? Sin! Who nailed the Son of God to that bloody tree? And who, as if it were not a dove descending with the olive, but a vulture swooping down to devour the dying, vexes, grieves, thwarts, repels, drives off the Spirit of God? Who is it that makes man in his heart and habits baser than a beast: and him who was once but little lower than an angel, but little better than a devil? Sin! Sin! Thou art a hateful and horrible thing; that abominable thing which God hates. And what wonder? Thou hast insulted his Holy Majesty; thou hast bereaved him of beloved children: thou hast defied his power: thou hast despised his grace: and, in the body and blood of Jesus, as if that were a common thing, thou hast trodden under foot his matchless mercy! Surely, brethren, the wonder of wonders is, that sin is not that abominable thing which we also hate.—Guthrie.