re. Again, when
we go along the road on a summer day we often cannot see the houses
that are concealed by the foliage of the trees; but in winter-time,
when the trees are bare and leafless, we know what kind of houses are
there, whether they are squalid cottages or grand mansions. So in the
winter-time of life, when the leaves are blown away, men come out and
we know what kind of character they have been building up behind the
screen of their life. (3) If time and sorrow do not reveal character,
eternity will. We will appear then, not as we seem, but as we are.
Christ is to be our judge. Consider what a striking thing it is in the
life of Christ that His searching glance seemed to go right to the
heart, to the hidden motive, to the man within. "He knew what was in
man." A poor woman passed by Him as He sat in the temple. She was
poverty-stricken in her garb, and she stole up to the contribution-box
and dropped in her offering. Christ's glance went right beyond her
outward appearance, and beyond her small and almost imperceptible
offering, to the motive and character. "She hath given more than they
all." All sorts of people were around Him: Pharisees, with their
phylacteries; Scribes, with their sceptical notions; Samaritans, with
their vaunted traditions: but He always went right beyond the outward
show. The Samaritan was good and kind, though he got no credit for
piety; the Pharisee was corrupt and self-seeking, though he got no
credit for piety; the Publican was a child of God, though no one would
speak to him. Christ reversed the judgment of men on those people whom
they thought they knew so well, but did not know at all. So it shall
be at the last; we shall be judged by what we are.

IV. Character alone endures.--What a man has he leaves behind him;
what a man is he carries with him. It is related that when Alexander
the Great was dying he commanded that his hands should be left outside
his shroud, that all men might see that, though conqueror of the world
he could take nothing away with him. Before Saladin the Great uttered
his last sigh he called the herald who had carried his banner before
him in all his battles, and commanded him to fasten to the top of the
spear a shroud in which he was to be buried, and to proclaim, "This is
all that remains to Saladin the Great of all his glory." So men have
felt in all ages that death strips them, and that they take nothing
with them of what they have gaine