sink so very low; but now I see what I am. Do we thus, like Peter, go
out and weep bitterly?

Every one who has passed through a time such as this single night was to
Peter knows the strain that is laid upon the soul, and how very hard it
is to yield utterly. So much rises up in self-defence; so much strength
is lost by the mere perplexity and confusion of the thing; so much is
lost in the despondency that follows these sad revelations of our
deep-seated evil. What is the use, we think, of striving, if even in
the point in which I thought myself most secure I have fallen? What is
the meaning of so perplexed and deceiving a warfare? Why was I exposed
to so fatal an influence? So Peter, had he taken the wrong direction,
might have resented the whole course of the temptation, and might have
said, Why did Christ not warn me by His look before I sinned, instead of
breaking me by it after? Why had I no inkling of the enormity of the sin
before as I have after the sin? My reputation now is gone among the
disciples; I may as well go back to my old obscure life and forget all
about these perplexing scenes and strange spiritualities. But Peter,
though he was cowed by a maid, was man enough and Christian enough to
reject such falsities and subterfuges. It is true we did not see the
enormity, never do see the enormity, of the sin until it is committed;
but is it possible it can be otherwise? Is not this the way in which a
blunt conscience is educated? Nothing seems so bad until it finds place
in our own life and haunts us. Neither need we despond or sour because
we are disgraced in our own eyes, or even in the eyes of others; for we
are hereby summoned to build for ourselves a new and different
reputation with God and our own consciences--a reputation founded on a
basis of reality and not of seeming.

It may be worth while to note the characteristics and danger of that
special form of weakness which Peter here exhibited. We commonly call it
moral cowardice. It is originally a weakness rather than a positive sin,
and yet it is probably as prolific of sin and even of great crime as any
of the more definite and vigorous passions of our nature, such as hate,
lust, avarice. It is that weakness which prompts a man to avoid
difficulties, to escape everything rough and disagreeable, to yield to
circumstances, and which above all makes him incapable of facing the
reproach, contempt, or opposition of his fellow-men. It is often found
in c