I will put it squarely and plainly to some of my very best friends here to-night.

Is it not the case, now, that you do not like this direction into which this text, and the truth of this text, are now travelling?
Is it not so that you shift back in your seat from the approaching cross?
Is it not the very and actual fact that you have secret ways of sin, secret habits of self-indulgence in your body and in your soul, in your mind and in your heart, secret sins that you mantle over with the robe of Christ's righteousness?
His spotless and imputed righteousness?
In your present temper you would have disliked deeply the Sermon on the Mount had you heard it; and I see you shaking your head over your Sabbath-day dinner at this text when it was first spoken.

Lay this down for a law, all my brethren,--a New Testament and a never-to-be-abrogated law,--that the best and the safest religion for you is that way of religion that is hardest on your pride, on your self-importance, on your self-esteem, as well as on your purse and on your belly.

You are not likely to err by practising too much of the cross.

You may very well have too much of the cross of Christ preached to you, and too little of your own.