The Nazarites took a vow: no wine. But God went further—much further. No vinegar made from wine. No strong drink whatsoever. The restrictions mounted: no grape juice, no fresh grapes, no raisins. Nothing! Not even the seeds, not even the skin. They couldn't touch anything that came from the vine. Why such extreme measures? To avoid even the appearance of evil.

Surely this speaks to every soul set apart for God! Come away from sin in every form—avoid not merely its obvious evils, but even its spirit and likeness.

Strict living is despised in our day, but hear me well, dear reader: it is both the safest path and the happiest. The one who yields a point or two to the world stands in fearful peril. He who eats the grapes of Sodom will soon drink the wine of Gomorrah!

A tiny crack in the sea-wall in Holland lets in the ocean, and that gap swells until a province drowns. So it is with worldly compromise—any degree of conformity ensnares the soul and makes the next presumptuous sin all the easier.

Consider this too: the Nazarite who drank grape juice could never be certain it hadn't begun to ferment. His conscience would plague him—"Have I broken my vow?" So it is with the compromising Christian. You cannot wear a clean conscience when your heart harbors doubt.

Things doubtful? We need not doubt about them—they are wrong for us. Things tempting? Don't dally with them—flee with speed!

Better to be sneered at as a Puritan than despised as a hypocrite. Yes, careful walking demands much self-denial. But oh, it brings pleasures of its own that more than compensate for every sacrifice!