See the spider's web, and behold in it a perfect picture of the hypocrite's religion! It's meant to catch prey—the spider fattens himself on flies, and the Pharisee has his reward. Foolish people are easily trapped by the loud professions of pretenders, and even the wise cannot always escape. Philip baptized Simon Magus, whose deceitful declaration of faith was exploded by the stern rebuke of Peter.

What flies do hypocrites catch in their nets? Custom, reputation, praise, advancement—these are their small game.

A spider's web is a marvel of skill! Look at it and admire the cunning hunter's craft. Is not a deceiver's religion equally wonderful? How does he make so barefaced a lie appear to be truth? How does he make his tinsel answer so well the purpose of gold?

But notice—a spider's web comes entirely from the creature's own bowels. The bee gathers her wax from flowers, the spider sucks no flowers, yet she spins out her material to any length. Even so, hypocrites find their trust and hope within themselves. Their anchor was forged on their own anvil, their cable twisted by their own hands. They lay their own foundation and hew out the pillars of their own house, disdaining to be debtors to the sovereign grace of God.

But a spider's web is very frail. It is curiously wrought, but not enduringly manufactured. It is no match for the servant's broom or the traveler's staff. The hypocrite needs no battery of cannons to blow his hope to pieces—a mere puff of wind will do it! Hypocritical cobwebs will soon come down when the broom of destruction begins its purifying work.

Which reminds us of one more thought: such cobwebs are not to be endured in the Lord's house. He will see to it that they and those who spin them shall be destroyed forever.

O my soul, be thou resting on something better than a spider's web! Be the Lord Jesus thine eternal hiding place.