HYPOCRISY.
Reading edition
The hypocrite’s hope shall perish.—Job, viii. 13.
The triumphing of the wicked is short, and the joy of the hypocrite but for a moment.—Job, xx. 5.
For the vile person will speak villany, and his heart will work iniquity, to practise hypocrisy, and to utter error against the Lord.—Isaiah, xxxii. 6.
When thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men.
When thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are; for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.—Matthew, vi. 2, 5.
So smooth he daubed his life with show of virtue, He lived from all attainder of suspect. Shakspere.
Hypocrisy, detest her as we may, (And no man’s hatred ever wronged her yet) May claim this merit still, that she admits The worth of what she mimics with such care, And thus gives virtue indirect applause. Cowper.
Great day of revelation! in the grave The hypocrite had left his mask, and stood In naked ugliness. He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of heaven To serve the devil in; in virtue’s guise, Devoured the widow’s house and orphan’s bread; In holy phrase, transacted villanies That common sinners durst not meddle with; At sacred feast, he sat among the saints, And with his guilty hands touched holiest things; And none of sin lamented more, or sighed More deeply, or with graver countenance, Or longer prayer, wept o’er the dying man Whose infant children, at the moment, he Planned how to rob. Seest thou the man, A serpent with an angel’s voice! a grave With flowers bestrewed! Pollok.
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl, The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others. But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture Tell them—that God bids us do good for evil. And thus I clothe my naked villany, With old, odd ends, stol’n forth of Holy Writ. Shakspere.
Wo to ye Hypocrites! ye insincere, Who shut the gates of heaven against mankind, And yet yourselves will never enter there— Wo to ye Hypocrites! your hearts are blind; The houses of the widow ye devour, And make long prayers, devotion ill-designed. The matters of the Law of gravest power— Omit ye;—Judgment—Mercy—Faith! and dole The petty tithe of your external dower: Not those omit,—nor these; but pay the whole! As righteous men ye do without appear, Within iniquity usurps the soul: Ye are e’en like a whited Sepulchre, Beautiful outward, hiding dead men’s bones; Uncleanness and corruption, everywhere. J. A. Heraud.
Like the detested tribe Of ancient Pharisees, beneath the mask Of clamorous piety, what numbers veil Contaminated, vicious hearts! How many In the devoted temple of their God, With hypocritic eye, from which the tear Of penitential anguish seems to flow, Pour forth their vows, and by affected zeal Pre-eminent devotion boast; while vice Within the guilty breast, rankles unseen. Samuel Hayes.
These are they That prey upon the widow, and devour The orphan’s portion, mocking Heaven with prayers Ceaseless, and fasts, which will but more incense His anger, and bring down worse chastisement. Charles Peers.