We have first the general warning, given out like the text of a sermon, or the musical phrase which underlies the various harmonies of some concerto.  The first word implies that the evil is a subtle and seducing one.  ‘Take heed’ as of something which may steal into and mar the noblest lives.  The serpent lies coiled under the leaves, and may sting and poison the unwary hand.  The generality of the warning, and the logical propriety of the whole section, require the adoption of the reading of the Revised Version, namely, ‘righteousness.’  The thing to be taken heed of is not the doing it ‘before men,’ which will often be obligatory, often necessary, and never in itself wrong, but the doing it ‘to be seen of them.’  Not the number of spectators, but the furtive glance of our eyes to see if they are looking at us, makes the sin.  We are to let our good works shine, that men may glorify our Father.  Pious souls are to shine, and yet to be hid,—­a paradox which can be easily solved by the obedient.  If our motive is to make God’s glory more visible, we shall not be seeking to be ourselves admired.  The harp-string’s swift vibrations, as it gives out its note, make it unseen.

The reason for the warning goes on two principles:  one that righteousness is to be rewarded, over and above its own inherent blessedness; another, that the prospect of the reward is a legitimate stimulus, over and above the prime reason for righteousness, namely, that it is righteous.  The New Testament morality is not good enough for some very superfine people, who are pleased to call it selfish because it lets a martyr brace himself in the fire by the vision of the crown athwart the smoke.  Somehow or other, however, that selfish morality gets itself put in practice, and turns out more unselfish people than its assailants manage to produce.  Perhaps the motive which they attack may be part of the reason.

The mingling of regard for man’s approbation with apparently righteous acts absolutely disqualifies them for receiving God’s reward, for it changes their whole character, and they are no longer what they seem.  Charity given from that motive is not charity, nor prayer offered from it devotion.

I. The general warning is applied to three cases, of which we have to deal with two.  Our Lord speaks first of ostentatious almsgiving.  Note that we are not to take ‘blowing the trumpets’ as actual fact.  Nobody would do that in a synagogue.  The meaning of all attempts, however concealed, to draw attention to one’s beneficence, is just what the ear-splitting blast would be; and the incongruity of startling the worshippers with the harsh notes is like the incongruity of doing good and trying to attract notice.  I think Christ’s ear catches the screech of the brazen abomination in a good many of the ways of raising and giving money, which find favour in the Church to-day.  This is an advertising age, and flowers that used to blush unseen are forced