II.  Verse 6 comes in singular juxtaposition with the preceding warning against uncharitable judgments.  Christ’s calling men dogs and swine does not sound like obeying His own precept.  But the very shock which the words give at first hearing is part of their value.  There are men whom Jesus, for all His gentleness, has to estimate thus.  His pitying eyes were not blind to truth.  It was no breach of infinite charity in Him to see facts, and to give them their right names; and His previous precept does not bid us shut our eyes, or give up the use of common sense.  This verse limits the application of the preceding one, and inculcates prudence, tact, and discernment of character, as no less essential to His servants than the sweet charity, slow to suspect and sorrowful to expose a brother’s fault.  The fact that His gentle lips used such words may well make us shudder as we think of the deforming of human nature into pure animalism which some men achieve, and which is possible for all.

The inculcation of discretion in the presentation of the truth may easily be exaggerated into a doctrine of reserve which is more Jesuitical than Christian.  Even when guarded and limited, it may seem scarcely in harmony with the commission to preach the gospel to every creature, or with the sublime confidence that God’s word finds something to appeal to in every heart, and has power to subdue the animal in every man.  But the divergence is only apparent.  The most expansive zeal is to be guided by prudence, and the most enthusiastic confidence in the universal power of the gospel does not take leave of common sense.  There are people who will certainly be repelled, and perhaps stirred to furious antagonism to the gospel and its messengers, if they are not approached with discretion.  It is bad to hide the treasure in a napkin; it is quite as bad to fling it down before some people without preparation.  Jesus Himself locked His lips before Herod, although the curious ruler asked many questions; and we have sometimes to remember that there are people who ‘will not hear the word,’ and who must first ‘be won without the word.’  Heavy rains run off hard-baked earth.  It must first be softened by a gentle drizzle.  Luther once told this fable:  ’The lion made a great feast, and he invited all the beasts, and among the rest, a sow.  When all manner of costly dishes were set before the guests, the sow asked, “Have you no bran?” Even so, said he, we preachers set forth the most dainty dishes,—­the forgiveness of sins, and the grace of God; but they turn up their snouts, and grub for guilders.’

This precept is one side of the truth.  The other is the adaptation of the gospel to all men, and the obligation on us to preach it to all.  We can only tell most men’s disposition towards it by offering it to them, and we are not to be in a hurry to conclude that men are dogs and swine.