(edited from Spurgeon's "Moab Is My Washpot" Psalm 60:8)

You can be very certain that unconverted
and ungodly people are not solidly happy.

What roaring boys they sometimes are!

How vociferous are their songs!

How merry their dances!

How hilarious their laughter!

You would think that there were no happier
people to be found under the sun. But as, on
many a face, beauty is produced by art rather
than by nature; and a little paint creates a
transient loveliness; so, often the mirth of
this world is a painted thing, a base imitation,
not so deep even as the skin.

Ungodly men know nothing of heart joy; they
are strangers to the deep, serene happiness
which is the portion of believers.

Their joy comes and goes with the hour.

See them when the feast is over; "Who has woe?
Who has sorrow? Who has strife? Who has complaints?
Who has needless bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes?
Those who linger over wine, who go to sample bowls
of mixed wine."

Mark them when alone; they are ready to die with boredom.

They want to kill time, as if they had an surplus of
it and would be glad to dispose of the superfluity.

A man's face must be very ugly when he never cares
to look at it, and a man's state must be very bad
indeed in when he is ashamed to know what it is.
And yet in the case of tens of thousands of people,
who say they are very happy. There is a worm
inside the apple; and you may be sure it is so,
for they dare not examine into matters.

Ungodly men at bottom are unhappy men.

"The way of transgressors is hard."

"There is no peace, says my God, to the wicked."

When I read of aching hearts, and hear that great
worldling, who had all the world could give him, sum
it all up with this sentence, "Vanity of vanities, all
is vanity," does not my heart say at once, "Oh, empty
world, you tempt me in vain, for I see through the cheat."

Madam Bubble we have seen with her mask off,
and are not to be fascinated by so ugly a witch!

We follow not after yonder green meadows and
flowing brooks, because they are not real, and are
only a mirage mocking the traveler.

Why should we pursue a bubble or chase the wind?

We no longer spend our money for that which is not bread.