Insincerity in Confessions.
By C. S. Robinson
WE are not sincere. We profess all horror at wickedness, but we seem to mean wickedness in general, not anything we have really done in particular and in person. It is sin we deplore, not sins. Our words of self-abasement must not be pressed, nor misunderstood. In the old legend it was no less than a cardinal that once went to confession. "Oh! I am the very chief of sinners," he murmured in the ear of the priest. "Too true, too true; God have mercy"—were the words that came back through the grating. "Surely I have been guilty of every kind of wrong," he continued. "Alas, my son, it is a solemn fact—have mercy upon him, O Lord." Thinking that the great enormities admitted, would force at least a deprecation, he went on:— "I have indulged in pride, malice, revenge, and ambition." Then he sighed in mournful tones; and in tones as mournful the honest monk answered: "Yes, alas, some of this I had heard of before; the Lord have mercy." The exasperated cardinal could stand it no longer. "Why you fool," he burst out sharply, "do you imagine I mean all this to the letter." "Alas, alas, the good Lord have mercy," said the pitiful priest, "for it seems his Eminence is a hypocrite likewise!"—C. S. Robinson.