It is sometimes asked, what became of Demas eventually? Did he, after wandering in the world, and finding no rest to his soul, identify himself again with the cause which he had deserted? We should like to be able to believe this. But the record is silent; and this silence is ominous; for when the Bible describes the fall of a good man, it generally gives some account of his restoration. Peter is a notable instance. Amidst the terrors of the Judgment-hall he thrice denied his Lord. The evangelists make no attempt to shield him from adverse criticism; on the other hand, they mention in detail every circumstance that enhances the baseness of his behaviour. But they are equally careful to dwell also upon the reality of his repentance. John, in a passage of marvellous beauty, relates how in a saner mood, on the shore of the sea of Galilee, he thrice confessed his Lord--confessed Him with such glowing fervour, that he was there and then restored into the position which he had so miserably forfeited. But the last word about Demas is that which points him out as a backslider; and as such he must be for ever known. The lesson of Demas's life is clear, nay even obtrusively clear, and the need of it has been freely acknowledged at all times. We could almost wish that it were inscribed in letters of fire upon the midnight sky. He was a man who "_loved this present world_," and we see in his history how loving the world involves separation from God, and how separation from God results in the abandonment of His cause. It is difficult to discourse to any purpose upon worldliness. You might get a crowd of people anywhere to hear you dilate upon it. They would probably applaud to the echo your most scathing denunciations of its baseness. But after all the probability is that no one would apply those fervid periods to himself. And why? Just because this evil principle manifests itself in such a variety of ways. A man who detects worldliness in his neighbour with the greatest ease may be absolutely incapable of seeing it in himself, simply because his own and his neighbour's are so different in form. It is the old story. David boiled over with indignation at the hard-hearted monster who had taken the poor man's lamb; but the fact that he himself had taken another man's wife, gave him no concern whatever.