{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39395/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39395","id":"gutenberg_39395","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39395","summary":null,"tags":["Bible. Genesis -- Commentaries","Category: Religion/Spirituality"],"text":"Produced by Colin Bell, Nigel Blower and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  [Transcriber's Note:\n\n  _Italic words_ have been enclosed in underscores.\n\n  As the oe ligature cannot be included in this format, it has been\n  replaced with the separate letters in \"manoeuvre\" and \"Phoenician\".\n\n  A few minor typographical errors have been silently corrected.\n  Some inconsistent hyphenation has been retained.\n\n  The Table of Contents refers to original page numbers.]\n\n\n\n                   THE BOOK\n                      OF\n                   GENESIS.\n\n                      BY\n              MARCUS DODS, D.D.,\n\n        AUTHOR OF \"ISRAEL'S IRON AGE,\"\n         \"THE PARABLES OF OUR LORD,\"\n    \"THE PRAYER THAT TEACHES TO PRAY,\" ETC.\n\n                  NEW YORK:\n           A. C. ARMSTRONG AND SON\n               714, BROADWAY.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                PAGE\n    CHAPTER I.\n    THE CREATION                                   1\n\n    CHAPTER II.\n    THE FALL                                      15\n\n    CHAPTER III.\n    CAIN AND ABEL                                 28\n\n    CHAPTER IV.\n    CAIN'S LINE, AND ENOCH                        42\n\n    CHAPTER V.\n    THE FLOOD                                     55\n\n    CHAPTER VI.\n    NOAH'S FALL                                   68\n\n    CHAPTER VII.\n    THE CALL OF ABRAHAM                           81\n\n    CHAPTER VIII.\n    ABRAM IN EGYPT                                96\n\n    CHAPTER IX.\n    LOT'S SEPARATION FROM ABRAM                  108\n\n    CHAPTER X.\n    ABRAM'S RESCUE OF LOT                        121\n\n    CHAPTER XI.\n    COVENANT WITH ABRAM                          134\n\n    CHAPTER XII.\n    BIRTH OF ISHMAEL                             147\n\n    CHAPTER XIII.\n    THE COVENANT SEALED                          159\n\n    CHAPTER XIV.\n    ABRAHAM'S INTERCESSION FOR SODOM             172\n\n    CHAPTER XV.\n    DESTRUCTION OF THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN       186\n\n    CHAPTER XVI.\n    SACRIFICE OF ISAAC                           198\n\n    CHAPTER XVII.\n    ISHMAEL AND ISAAC                            212\n\n    CHAPTER XVIII.\n    PURCHASE OF MACHPELAH                        226\n\n    CHAPTER XIX.\n    ISAAC'S MARRIAGE                             240\n\n    CHAPTER XX.\n    ESAU AND JACOB                               254\n\n    CHAPTER XXI.\n    JACOB'S FRAUD                                267\n\n    CHAPTER XXII.\n    JACOB'S FLIGHT AND DREAM                     279\n\n    CHAPTER XXIII.\n    JACOB AT PENIEL                              293\n\n    CHAPTER XXIV.\n    JACOB'S RETURN                               307\n\n    CHAPTER XXV.\n    JOSEPH'S DREAMS                              321\n\n    CHAPTER XXVI.\n    JOSEPH IN PRISON                             339\n\n    CHAPTER XXVII.\n    PHARAOH'S DREAMS                             355\n\n    CHAPTER XXVIII.\n    JOSEPH'S ADMINISTRATION                      369\n\n    CHAPTER XXIX.\n    VISITS OF JOSEPH'S BRETHREN                  383\n\n    CHAPTER XXX.\n    THE RECONCILIATION                           396\n\n    CHAPTER XXXI.\n    THE BLESSINGS OF THE TRIBES                  415\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\n_THE CREATION._\n\nGENESIS i. and ii.\n\n\nIf any one is in search of accurate information regarding the age of\nthis earth, or its relation to the sun, moon, and stars, or regarding\nthe order in which plants and animals have appeared upon it, he is\nreferred to recent text-books in astronomy, geology, and palaeontology.\nNo one for a moment dreams of referring a serious student of these\nsubjects to the Bible as a source of information. It is not the object\nof the writers of Scripture to impart physical instruction or to enlarge\nthe bounds of scientific knowledge. But if any one wishes to know what\nconnection the world has with God, if he seeks to trace back all that\nnow is to the very fountain-head of life, if he desires to discover some\nunifying principle, some illuminating purpose in the history of this\nearth, then we confidently refer him to these and the subsequent\nchapters of Scripture as his safest, and indeed his only, guide to the\ninformation he seeks. Every writing must be judged by the object the\nwriter has in view. If the object of the writer of these chapters was to\nconvey physical information, then certainly it is imperfectly fulfilled.\nBut if his object was to give an intelligible account of God's relation\nto the world and to man, then it must be owned that he has been\nsuccessful in the highest degree.\n\nIt is therefore unreasonable to allow our reverence for this writing to\nbe lessened because it does not anticipate the discoveries of physical\nscience; or to repudiate its authority in its own department of truth\nbecause it does not give us information which it formed no part of the\nwriter's object to give. As well might we deny to Shakespeare a masterly\nknowledge of human life, because his dramas are blotted by historical\nanachronisms. That the compiler of this book of Genesis did not aim at\nscientific accuracy in speaking of physical details is obvious, not\nmerely from the general scope and purpose of the Biblical writers, but\nespecially from this, that in these first two chapters of his book he\nlays side by side two accounts of man's creation which no ingenuity can\nreconcile. These two accounts, glaringly incompatible in details, but\nabsolutely harmonious in their leading ideas, at once warn the reader\nthat the writer's aim is rather to convey certain ideas regarding man's\nspiritual history and his connection with God, than to describe the\nprocess of creation. He does describe the process of creation, but he\ndescribes it only for the sake of the ideas regarding man's relation to\nGod and God's relation to the world which he can thereby convey. Indeed\nwhat we mean by scientific knowledge was not in all the thoughts of the\npeople for whom this book was written. The subject of creation, of the\nbeginning of man upon earth, was not approached from that side at all;\nand if we are to understand what is here written we must burst the\ntrammels of our own modes of thought and read these chapters not as a\nchronological, astronomical, geological, biological statement, but as a\nmoral or spiritual conception.\n\nIt will, however, be said, and with much appearance of justice, that\nalthough the first object of the writer was not to convey scientific\ninformation, yet he might have been expected to be accurate in the\ninformation he did advance regarding the physical universe. This is an\nenormous assumption to make on _a priori_ grounds, but it is an\nassumption worth seriously considering because it brings into view a\nreal and important difficulty which every reader of Genesis must face.\nIt brings into view the twofold character of this account of creation.\nOn the one hand it is irreconcilable with the teachings of science. On\nthe other hand it is in striking contrast to the other cosmogonies which\nhave been handed down from pre-scientific ages. These are the two patent\nfeatures of this record of creation and both require to be accounted\nfor. Either feature alone would be easily accounted for; but the two\nco-existing in the same document are more baffling. We have to account\nat once for a want of perfect coincidence with the teachings of science,\nand for a singular freedom from those errors which disfigure all other\nprimitive accounts of the creation of the world. The one feature of the\ndocument is as patent as the other and presses equally for explanation.\n\nNow many persons cut the knot by simply denying that both these features\nexist. There is no disagreement with science, they say. I speak for many\ncareful enquirers when I say that this cannot serve as a solution of the\ndifficulty. I think it is to be freely admitted that, from whatever\ncause and however justifiably, the account of creation here given is not\nin strict and detailed accordance with the teaching of science. All\nattempts to force its statements into such accord are futile and\nmischievous. They are futile because they do not convince independent\nenquirers, but only those who are unduly anxious to be convinced. And\nthey are mischievous because they unduly prolong the strife between\nScripture and science, putting the question on a false issue. And above\nall, they are to be condemned because they do violence to Scripture,\nfoster a style of interpretation by which the text is forced to say\nwhatever the interpreter desires, and prevent us from recognising the\nreal nature of these sacred writings. The Bible needs no defence such as\nfalse constructions of its language bring to its aid. They are its worst\nfriends who distort its words that they may yield a meaning more in\naccordance with scientific truth. If, for example, the word 'day' in\nthese chapters, does not mean a period of twenty-four hours, the\ninterpretation of Scripture is hopeless. Indeed if we are to bring these\nchapters into any comparison at all with science, we find at once\nvarious discrepancies. Of a creation of sun, moon, and stars, subsequent\nto the creation of this earth, science can have but one thing to say. Of\nthe existence of fruit trees prior to the existence of the sun, science\nknows nothing. But for a candid and unsophisticated reader without a\nspecial theory to maintain, details are needless.\n\nAccepting this chapter then as it stands, and believing that only by\nlooking at the Bible as it actually is can we hope to understand God's\nmethod of revealing Himself, we at once perceive that ignorance of some\ndepartments of truth does not disqualify a man for knowing and imparting\ntruth about God. In order to be a medium of revelation a man does not\nneed to be in advance of his age in secular learning. Intimate\ncommunion with God, a spirit trained to discern spiritual things, a\nperfect understanding of and zeal for God's purpose, these are qualities\nquite independent of a knowledge of the discoveries of science. The\nenlightenment which enables men to apprehend God and spiritual truth,\nhas no necessary connection with scientific attainments. David's\nconfidence in God and his declarations of His faithfulness are none the\nless valuable, because he was ignorant of a very great deal which every\nschool-boy now knows. Had inspired men introduced into their writings\ninformation which anticipated the discoveries of science, their state of\nmind would be inconceivable, and revelation would be a source of\nconfusion. God's methods are harmonious with one another, and as He has\ngiven men natural faculties to acquire scientific knowledge and\nhistorical information, He did not stultify this gift by imparting such\nknowledge in a miraculous and unintelligible manner. There is no\nevidence that inspired men were in advance of their age in the knowledge\nof physical facts and laws. And plainly, had they been supernaturally\ninstructed in physical knowledge they would so far have been\nunintelligible to those to whom they spoke. Had the writer of this book\nmingled with his teaching regarding God, an explicit and exact account\nof how this world came into existence--had he spoken of millions of\nyears instead of speaking of days--in all probability he would have been\ndiscredited, and what he had to say about God would have been rejected\nalong with his premature science. But speaking from the point of view of\nhis contemporaries, and accepting the current ideas regarding the\nformation of the world, he attached to these the views regarding God's\nconnection with the world which are most necessary to be believed. What\nhe had learned of God's unity and creative power and connection with\nman, by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, he imparts to his\ncontemporaries through the vehicle of an account of creation they could\nall understand. It is not in his knowledge of physical facts that he is\nelevated above his contemporaries, but in his knowledge of God's\nconnection with all physical facts. No doubt, on the other hand, his\nknowledge of God reacts upon the entire contents of his mind and saves\nhim from presenting such accounts of creation as have been common among\npolytheists. He presents an account purified by his conception of what\nwas worthy of the supreme God he worshipped. His idea of God has given\ndignity and simplicity to all he says about creation, and there is an\nelevation and majesty about the whole conception, which we recognise as\nthe reflex of his conception of God.\n\nHere then instead of anything to discompose us or to excite unbelief, we\nrecognise one great law or principle on which God proceeds in making\nHimself known to men. This has been called the Law of Accommodation. It\nis the law which requires that the condition and capacity of those to\nwhom the revelation is made must be considered. If you wish to instruct\na child, you must speak in language the child can understand. If you\nwish to elevate a savage, you must do it by degrees, accommodating\nyourself to his condition, and winking at much ignorance while you\ninstil elementary knowledge. You must found all you teach on what is\nalready understood by your pupil, and through that you must convey\nfurther knowledge and train his faculties to higher capacity. So was it\nwith God's revelation. The Jews were children who had to be trained\nwith what Paul somewhat contemptuously calls \"weak and beggarly\nelements,\" the A B C of morals and religion. Not even in morals could\nthe absolute truth be enforced. Accommodation had to be practised even\nhere. Polygamy was allowed as a concession to their immature stage of\ndevelopment: and practices in war and in domestic law were permitted or\nenjoined which were inconsistent with absolute morality. Indeed the\nwhole Jewish system was an adaptation to an immature state. The dwelling\nof God in the Temple as a man in his house, the propitiating of God with\nsacrifice as of an Eastern king with gifts; this was a teaching by\npicture, a teaching which had as much resemblance to the truth and as\nmuch mixture of truth as they were able then to receive. No doubt this\nteaching did actually mislead them in some of their ideas; but it kept\nthem on the whole in a right attitude towards God, and prepared them for\ngrowing up to a fuller discernment of the truth.\n\nMuch more was this law observed in regard to such matters as are dealt\nwith in these chapters. It was impossible that in their ignorance of the\nrudiments of scientific knowledge, the early Hebrews should understand\nan absolutely accurate account of how the world came into being; and if\nthey could have understood it, it would have been useless, dissevered as\nit must have been from the steps of knowledge by which men have since\narrived at it. Children ask us questions in answer to which we do not\ntell them the exact full truth, because we know they cannot possibly\nunderstand it. All that we can do is to give them some provisional\nanswer which conveys to them some information they can understand, and\nwhich keeps them in a right state of mind, although this information\noften seems absurd enough when compared with the actual facts and truth\nof the matter. And if some solemn pedant accused us of supplying the\nchild with false information, we would simply tell him he knew nothing\nabout children. Accurate information on these matters will infallibly\ncome to the child when he grows up; what is wanted meanwhile is to give\nhim information which will help to form his conduct without gravely\nmisleading him as to facts. Similarly, if any one tells me he cannot\naccept these chapters as inspired by God, because they do not convey\nscientifically accurate information regarding this earth, I can only say\nthat he has yet to learn the first principles of revelation, and that he\nmisunderstands the conditions on which all instruction must be given.\n\nMy belief then is, that in these chapters we have the ideas regarding\nthe origin of the world and of man which were naturally attainable in\nthe country where they were first composed, but with those important\nmodifications which a monotheistic belief necessarily suggested. So far\nas merely physical knowledge went, there is probably little here that\nwas new to the contemporaries of the writer; but this already familiar\nknowledge was used by him as the vehicle for conveying his faith in the\nunity, love and wisdom of God the creator. He laid a firm foundation for\nthe history of God's relation to man. This was his object, and this he\naccomplished. The Bible is the book to which we turn for information\nregarding the history of God's revelation of Himself, and of His will\ntowards men; and in these chapters we have the suitable introduction to\nthis history. No changes in our knowledge of physical truth can at all\naffect the teaching of these chapters. What they teach regarding the\nrelation of man to God is independent of the physical details in which\nthis teaching is embodied, and can as easily be attached to the most\nmodern statement of the physical origin of the world and of man.\n\nWhat then are the truths taught us in these chapters? The first is that\nthere has been a creation, that things now existing have not just grown\nof themselves, but have been called into being by a presiding\nintelligence and an originating will. No attempt to account for the\nexistence of the world in any other way has been successful. A great\ndeal has in this generation been added to our knowledge of the\nefficiency of material causes to produce what we see around us; but when\nwe ask what gives harmony to these material causes, and what guides them\nto the production of certain ends, and what originally produced them,\nthe answer must still be, not matter but intelligence and purpose. The\nbest informed and most penetrating minds of our time affirm this. John\nStuart Mill says: \"It must be allowed that in the present state of our\nknowledge the adaptations in nature afford a large balance of\nprobability in favour of creation by intelligence.\" Professor Tyndall\nadds his testimony and says: \"I have noticed during years of\nself-observation that it is not in hours of clearness and vigour that\n[the doctrine of material atheism] commends itself to my mind--that in\nthe hours of stronger and healthier thought it ever dissolves and\ndisappears, as offering no solution of the mystery in which we dwell and\nof which we form a part.\"\n\nThere is indeed a prevalent suspicion, that in presence of the\ndiscoveries made by evolutionists the argument from design is no longer\ntenable. Evolution shows us that the correspondence of the structure of\nanimals, with their modes of life, has been generated by the nature of\nthe case; and it is concluded that a blind mechanical necessity and not\nan intelligent design rules all. But the discovery of the process by\nwhich the presently existing living forms have been evolved, and the\nperception that this process is governed by laws which have always been\noperating, do not make intelligence and design at all less necessary,\nbut rather more so. As Professor Huxley himself says: \"The teleological\nand mechanical views of nature are not necessarily exclusive. The\nteleologist can always defy the evolutionist to disprove that the\nprimordial molecular arrangement was not intended to evolve the\nphenomena of the universe.\" Evolution, in short, by disclosing to us the\nmarvellous power and accuracy of natural law, compels us more\nemphatically than ever to refer all law to a supreme, originating\nintelligence.\n\nThis then is the first lesson of the Bible; that at the root and origin\nof all this vast material universe, before whose laws we are crushed as\nthe moth, there abides a living conscious Spirit, who wills and knows\nand fashions all things. The belief of this changes for us the whole\nface of nature, and instead of a chill, impersonal world of forces to\nwhich no appeal can be made, and in which matter is supreme, gives us\nthe home of a Father. If you are yourself but a particle of a huge and\nunconscious universe--a particle which, like a flake of foam, or a drop\nof rain, or a gnat, or a beetle, lasts its brief space and then yields\nup its substance to be moulded into some new creature; if there is no\npower that understands you and sympathizes with you and makes provision\nfor your instincts, your aspirations, your capabilities; if man is\nhimself the highest intelligence, and if all things are the purposeless\nresult of physical forces; if, in short, there is no God, no\nconsciousness at the beginning as at the end of all things, then nothing\ncan be more melancholy than our position. Our higher desires which seem\nto separate us so immeasurably from the brutes, we have, only that they\nmay be cut down by the keen edge of time, and wither in barren\ndisappointment; our reason we have, only to enable us to see and measure\nthe brevity of our span, and so live our little day, not joyously as the\nunforeseeing beasts, but shadowed by the hastening gloom of anticipated,\ninevitable and everlasting night; our faculty for worshipping and for\nstriving to serve and to resemble the perfect living One, that faculty\nwhich seems to be the thing of greatest promise and of finest quality in\nus, and to which is certainly due the largest part of what is admirable\nand profitable in human history, is the most mocking and foolishest of\nall our parts. But, God be thanked, He has revealed himself to us; has\ngiven us in the harmonious and progressive movement of all around us,\nsufficient indication that, even in the material world, intelligence and\npurpose reign; an indication which becomes immensely clearer as we pass\ninto the world of man; and which, in presence of the person and life of\nChrist attains the brightness of a conviction which illuminates all\nbesides.\n\nThe other great truth which this writer teaches is, that man was the\nchief work of God, for whose sake all else was brought into being. The\nwork of creation was not finished till he appeared: all else was\npreparatory to this final product. That man is the crown and lord of\nthis earth is obvious. Man instinctively assumes that all else has been\nmade for him, and freely acts upon this assumption. But when our eyes\nare lifted from this little ball on which we are set and to which we\nare confined, and when we scan such other parts of the universe as are\nwithin our ken, a keen sense of littleness oppresses us; our earth is\nafter all so minute and apparently inconsiderable a point when compared\nwith the vast suns and planets that stretch system on system into\nillimitable space. When we read even the rudiments of what astronomers\nhave discovered regarding the inconceivable vastness of the universe,\nthe huge dimensions of the heavenly bodies, and the grand scale on which\neverything is framed, we find rising to our lips, and with tenfold\nreason, the words of David: \"When I consider Thy heavens, the work of\nThy fingers; the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained; what is\nman that Thou art mindful of him, or the son of man that Thou visitest\nhim?\" Is it conceivable that on this scarcely discernible speck in the\nvastness of the universe, should be played out the chiefest act in the\nhistory of God? Is it credible that He whose care it is to uphold this\nillimitable universe, should be free to think of the wants and woes of\nthe insignificant creatures who quickly spend their little lives in this\ninconsiderable earth?\n\nBut reason seems all on the side of Genesis. God must not be considered\nas sitting apart in a remote position of general superintendence, but as\npresent with all that is. And to Him who maintains these systems in\ntheir respective relations and orbits, it can be no burden to relieve\nthe needs of individuals. To think of ourselves as too insignificant to\nbe attended to is to derogate from God's true majesty and to\nmisunderstand His relation to the world. But it is also to misapprehend\nthe real value of spirit as compared with matter. Man is dear to God\nbecause he is like Him. Vast and glorious as it is, the sun cannot think\nGod's thoughts; can fulfil but cannot intelligently sympathize with\nGod's purpose. Man, alone among God's works, can enter into and approve\nof God's purpose in the world and can intelligently fulfil it. Without\nman the whole material universe would have been dark and unintelligible,\nmechanical and apparently without any sufficient purpose. Matter,\nhowever fearfully and wonderfully wrought, is but the platform and\nmaterial in which spirit, intelligence and will, may fulfil themselves\nand find development. Man is incommensurable with the rest of the\nuniverse. He is of a different kind and by his moral nature is more akin\nto God than to His works.\n\nHere the beginning and the end of God's revelation join hands and throw\nlight on one another. The nature of man was that in which God was at\nlast to give His crowning revelation, and for that no preparation could\nseem extravagant. Fascinating and full of marvel as is the history of\nthe past which science discloses to us; full as these slow-moving\nmillions of years are in evidences of the exhaustless wealth of nature,\nand mysterious as the delay appears, all that expenditure of resources\nis eclipsed and all the delay justified when the whole work is crowned\nby the Incarnation, for in it we see that all that slow process was the\npreparation of a nature in which God could manifest Himself as a Person\nto persons. This is seen to be an end worthy of all that is contained in\nthe physical history of the world: this gives completeness to the whole\nand makes it a unity. No higher, other end need be sought, none could be\nconceived. It is this which seems worthy of those tremendous and subtle\nforces which have been set at work in the physical world, this which\njustifies the long lapse of ages filled with wonders unobserved, and\nteeming with ever new life; this above all which justifies these latter\nages in which all physical marvels have been outdone by the tragical\nhistory of man upon earth. Remove the Incarnation and all remains dark,\npurposeless, unintelligible: grant the Incarnation, believe that in\nJesus Christ the Supreme manifested Himself personally, and light is\nshed upon all that has been and is.\n\nLight is shed on the individual life. Are you living as if you were the\nproduct of blind mechanical laws, and as if there were no object worthy\nof your life and of all the force you can throw into your life? Consider\nthe Incarnation of the Creator, and ask yourself if sufficient object is\nnot given to you in His call that you be conformed to His image and\nbecome the intelligent executor of His purposes? Is life not worth\nhaving even on these terms? The man that can still sit down and bemoan\nhimself as if there were no meaning in existence, or lounge languidly\nthrough life as if there were no zest or urgency in living, or try to\nsatisfy himself with fleshly comforts, has surely need to turn to the\nopening page of Revelation and learn that God saw sufficient object in\nthe life of man, enough to compensate for millions of ages of\npreparation. If it is possible that you should share in the character\nand destiny of Christ, can a healthy ambition crave anything more or\nhigher? If the future is to be as momentous in results as the past has\ncertainly been filled with preparation, have you no caring to share in\nthese results? Believe that there is a purpose in things; that in\nChrist, the revelation of God, you can see what that purpose is, and\nthat by wholly uniting yourself to Him and allowing yourself to be\npenetrated by His Spirit you can participate with Him in the working out\nof that purpose.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\n_THE FALL._\n\nGENESIS iii.\n\n\nProfound as the teaching of this narrative is, its meaning does not lie\non the surface. Literal interpretation will reach a measure of its\nsignificance, but plainly there is more here than appears in the letter.\nWhen we read that the serpent was more subtile than any beast of the\nfield which the Lord God had made, and that he tempted the woman, we at\nonce perceive that it is not with the outer husk of the story we are to\nconcern ourselves, but with the kernel. The narrative throughout speaks\nof nothing but the brute serpent; not a word is said of the devil, not\nthe slightest hint is given that the machinations of a fallen angel are\nsignified. The serpent is compared to the other beasts of the field,\nshowing that it is the brute serpent that is spoken of. The curse is\npronounced on the beast, not on a fallen spirit summoned for the purpose\nbefore the Supreme; and not in terms which could apply to a fallen\nspirit, but in terms that are applicable only to the serpent that\ncrawls. Yet every reader feels that this is not the whole mystery of the\nfall of man: moral evil cannot be accounted for by referring it to a\nbrute source. No one, I suppose, believes that the whole tribe of\nserpents crawl as a punishment of an offence committed by one of their\nnumber, or that the whole iniquity and sorrow of the world are due to an\nactual serpent. Plainly this is merely a pictorial representation\nintended to convey some general impressions and ideas. Vitally important\ntruths underlie the narrative and are bodied forth by it; but the way to\nreach these truths is not to adhere too rigidly to the literal meaning,\nbut to catch the general impression which it seems fitted to make.\n\nNo doubt this opens the door to a great variety of interpretation. No\ntwo men will attach to it precisely the same meaning. One says, the\nserpent is a symbol for Satan, but Adam and Eve are historical persons.\nAnother says, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is a figure,\nbut the driving out from the garden is real. Another maintains that the\nwhole is a picture, putting in a visible, intelligible shape certain\nvitally important truths regarding the history of our race. So that\nevery man is left very much to his own judgment, to read the narrative\ncandidly and in such light from other sources as he has, and let it make\nits own impression upon him. This would be a sad result if the object of\nthe Bible were to bring us all to a rigid uniformity of belief in all\nmatters; but the object of the Bible is not that, but the far higher\nobject of furnishing all varieties of men with sufficient light to lead\nthem to God. And this being so, variety of interpretation in details is\nnot to be lamented. The very purpose of such representations as are here\ngiven is to suit all stages of mental and spiritual advancement. Let the\nchild read it and he will learn what will live in his mind and influence\nhim all his life. Let the devout man who has ranged through all science\nand history and philosophy come back to this narrative, and he feels\nthat he has here the essential truth regarding the beginnings of man's\ntragical career upon earth.\n\nWe should, in my opinion, be labouring under a misapprehension if we\nsupposed that none even of the earliest readers of this account saw the\ndeeper meaning of it. When men who felt the misery of sin and lifted up\ntheir hearts to God for deliverance, read the words addressed to the\nserpent, \"I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy\nseed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his\nheel\"--is it reasonable to suppose that such men would take these words\nin their literal sense, and satisfy themselves with the assurance that\nserpents, though dangerous, would be kept under, and would find in the\nwords no assurance of that very thing they themselves were all their\nlifetime striving after, deliverance from the evil thing which lay at\nthe root of all sin? No doubt some would accept the story in its literal\nmeaning,--shallow and careless men whose own spiritual experience never\nurged them to see any spiritual significance in the words would do so;\nbut even those who saw least in the story, and put a very shallow\ninterpretation on its details, could scarcely fail to see its main\nteaching.\n\nThe reader of this perennially fresh story is first of all struck with\nthe account given of man's primitive condition. Coming to this narrative\nwith our minds coloured by the fancies of poets and philosophers, we are\nalmost startled by the check which the plain and sober statements of\nthis account give to an unpruned fancy. We have to read the words again\nand again to make sure we have not omitted something which gives support\nto those glowing descriptions of man's primitive condition. Certainly he\nis described as innocent and at peace with God, and in this respect no\nterms can exaggerate his happiness. But in other respects the language\nof the Bible is surprisingly moderate. Man is represented as living on\nfruit, and as going unclothed, and, so far as appears, without any\nartificial shelter either from the heat of the sun or the cold of night.\nNone of the arts were as yet known. All working of metals had yet to be\ndiscovered, so that his tools must have been of the rudest possible\ndescription; and the arts, such as music, which adorn life and make\nleisure enjoyable, were also still in the future.\n\nBut the most significant elements in man's primitive condition are\nrepresented by the two trees of the garden; by trees, because with\nplants alone he had to do. In the centre of the garden stood the tree of\nlife, the fruit of which bestowed immortality. Man was therefore\nnaturally mortal, though apparently with a capacity for immortality. How\nthis capacity would have actually carried man on to immortality had he\nnot sinned, it is vain to conjecture. The mystical nature of the tree of\nlife is fully recognised in the New Testament, by our Lord, when He\nsays: \"To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life,\nwhich is in the midst of the Paradise of God;\" and by John, when he\ndescribes the new Jerusalem: \"In the midst of the street of it, and on\neither side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve\nmanner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of\nthe tree were for the healing of the nations.\" Both these\nrepresentations are intended to convey, in a striking and pictorial\nform, the promise of life everlasting.\n\nAnd as of the tree of life which stands in the Paradise of the future it\nis said \"Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have\nright to the tree of life;\" so in Eden man's immortality was suspended\non the condition of obedience. And the trial of man's obedience is\nimaged in the other tree, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.\nFrom the child-like innocence in which man originally was, he was to\npass forward into the condition of moral manhood, which consists not in\nmere innocence, but in innocence maintained in presence of temptation.\nThe savage is innocent of many of the crimes of civilized men because he\nhas no opportunity to commit them; the child is innocent of some of the\nvices of manhood because he has no temptation to them. But this\ninnocence is the result of circumstance, not of character; and if savage\nor child is to become a mature moral being he must be tried by altered\ncircumstances, by temptation and opportunity. To carry man forward to\nthis higher stage trial is necessary, and this trial is indicated by the\ntree of knowledge. The fruit of this tree is prohibited, to indicate\nthat it is only in presence of what is forbidden man can be morally\ntested, and that it is only by self-command and obedience to law, and\nnot by the mere following of instincts, that man can attain to moral\nmaturity. The prohibition is that which makes him recognise a\ndistinction between good and evil. He is put in a position in which good\nis not the only thing he can do; an alternative is present to his mind,\nand the choice of good in preference to evil is made possible to him. In\npresence of this tree child-like innocence was no longer possible. The\nself-determination of manhood was constantly required. Conscience,\nhitherto latent, was now evoked and took its place as man's supreme\nfaculty.\n\nIt is in vain to think of exhausting this narrative. We can, at the\nmost, only remark upon some of the most salient points.\n\n(1) Temptation comes like a serpent; like the most subtile beast of the\nfield; like that one creature which is said to exert a fascinating\ninfluence on its victims, fastening them with its glittering eye,\nstealing upon them by its noiseless, low and unseen approach, perplexing\nthem by its wide circling folds, seeming to come upon them from all\nsides at once, and armed not like the other beasts with one weapon of\noffence--horn, or hoof, or teeth--but capable of crushing its victim\nwith every part of its sinuous length. It lies apparently dead for\nmonths together, but when roused it can, as the naturalist tells us,\n\"outclimb the monkey, outswim the fish, outleap the zebra, outwrestle\nthe athlete, and crush the tiger.\" How naturally in describing\ntemptation do we borrow language from the aspect and movements of this\ncreature. It does not need to hunt down its victims by long continued\npursuit, its victims come and put themselves within its reach. Unseen,\ntemptation lies by our path, and before we have time to think we are\nfascinated and bewildered, its coils rapidly gather round us and its\nstroke flashes poison through our blood. Against sin, when once it has\nwreathed itself around us, we seem helpless to contend; the very powers\nwith which we could resist are benumbed or pinned useless to our\nside--our foe seems all round us, and to extricate one part is but to\nbecome entangled in another. As the serpent finds its way everywhere,\nover every fence or barrier, into every corner and recess, so it is\nimpossible to keep temptation out of the life; it appears where least we\nexpect it and when we think ourselves secure.\n\n(2) Temptation succeeds at first by exciting our curiosity. It is a\nwise saying that \"our great security against sin lies in being shocked\nat it. Eve gazed and reflected when she should have fled.\" The serpent\ncreated an interest, excited her curiosity about this forbidden fruit.\nAnd as this excited curiosity lies near the beginning of sin in the\nrace, so does it in the individual. I suppose if you trace back the\nmystery of iniquity in your own life and seek to track it to its source,\nyou will find it to have originated in this craving to taste evil. No\nman originally meant to become the sinner he has become. He only\nintended, like Eve, to taste. It was a voyage of discovery he meant to\nmake; he did not think to get nipped and frozen up and never more return\nfrom the outer cold and darkness. He wished before finally giving\nhimself to virtue, to see the real value of the other alternative.\n\nThis dangerous craving has many elements in it. There is in it the\ninstinctive drawing towards what is mysterious. One veiled figure in an\nassembly will attract more scrutiny than the most admired beauty. An\nappearance in the heavens that no one can account for will nightly draw\nmore eyes than the most wonderful sunset. To lift veils, to penetrate\ndisguises, to unravel complicated plots, to solve mysteries, this is\nalways inviting to the human mind. The tale which used to thrill us in\nchildhood, of the one locked room, the one forbidden key, bears in it a\ntruth for men as well as for children. What is hidden must, we conclude,\nhave some interest for us--else why hide it from us? What is forbidden\nmust have some important bearing upon us. Else why forbid it? Things\nwhich are indifferent to us are left in our way, obvious, and without\nconcealment. But as action has been taken regarding the things that are\nforbidden, action in view of our relation to them, it is natural to us\nto desire to know what these things are and how they affect us.\n\nThere is added to this in young persons, a sense of incompleteness. They\nwish to be grown up. Few boys wish to be always boys. They long for the\nsigns of manhood, and seek to possess that knowledge of life and its\nways which they very much identify with manhood. But too commonly they\nmistake the path to manhood. They feel as if they had a wider range of\nliberty and were more thoroughly men when they transgress the limits\nassigned by conscience. They feel as if there were a new and brighter\nworld outside that which is fenced round by strict morality, and they\ntremble with excitement on its borders. It is a fatal delusion. Only by\nchoosing the good in presence of the evil are true manhood and real\nmaturity gained. True manliness consists mainly in self control, in a\npatient waiting upon nature and God's law and when youth impatiently\nbreaks through the protecting fence of God's law, and seeks growth by\nknowing evil, it misses that very advancement it seeks, and cheats\nitself out of the manhood it apes.\n\n(3) Through this craving for an enlarged experience unbelief in God's\ngoodness finds entrance. In the presence of forbidden pleasure we are\ntempted to feel as if God were grudging us enjoyment. The very arguments\nof the serpent occur to our mind. No harm will come of our indulging;\nthe prohibition is needless, unreasonable and unkind; it is not based on\nany genuine desire for our welfare. This fence that shuts us out from\nknowing good and evil is erected by a timorous asceticism, by a\nridiculous misconception of what truly enlarges human nature; it shuts\nus into a poor narrow life. And thus suspicions of God's perfect wisdom\nand goodness find entrance; we begin to think we know better than He\nwhat is good for us, and can contrive a richer, happier life than He has\nprovided for us. Our loyalty to Him is loosened, and already we have\nlost hold of His strength and are launched on the current that leads to\nsin, misery, and shame. When we find ourselves saying Yes, where God has\nsaid No; when we see desirable things where God has said there is death;\nwhen we allow distrust of Him to rankle in our mind, when we chafe\nagainst the restrictions under which we live and seek liberty by\nbreaking down the fence instead of by delighting in God, we are on the\nhighway to all evil.\n\n(4) If we know our own history we cannot be surprised to read that one\ntaste of evil ruined our first parents. It is so always. The one taste\nalters our attitude towards God and conscience and life. It is a\nveritable Circe's cup. The actual experience of sin is like the one\ntaste of alcohol to a reclaimed drunkard, like the first taste of blood\nto a young tiger, it calls out the latent devil and creates a new nature\nwithin us. At one brush it wipes out all the peace, and joy, and\nself-respect, and boldness of innocence, and numbers us among the\ntransgressors, among the shame-faced, and self-despising, and hopeless.\nIt leaves us possessed with unhappy thoughts which lead us away from\nwhat is bright, and honourable, and good, and like the letting out of\nwater it seems to have tapped a spring of evil within us. It is but one\nstep, but it is like the step over a precipice or down the shaft of a\nmine; it cannot be taken back, it commits to an altogether different\nstate of things.\n\n(5) The first result of sin is shame. The form in which the knowledge\nof good and evil comes to us is the knowing we are naked, the\nconsciousness that we are stripped of all that made us walk unabashed\nbefore God and men. The promise of the serpent while broken in the\nsense is fulfilled to the ear; the eyes of Adam and Eve were opened and\nthey knew that they were naked. Self-reflection begins, and the first\nmovement of conscience produces shame. Had they resisted temptation,\nconscience would have been born but not in self-condemnation. Like\nchildren they had hitherto been conscious only of what was external to\nthemselves, but now their consciousness of a power to choose good and\nevil is awakened and its first exercise is accompanied with shame. They\nfeel that in themselves they are faulty, that they are not in\nthemselves complete; that though created by God, they are not fit for\nHis eye. The lower animals wear no clothes because they have no\nknowledge of good and evil; children feel no need of covering because\nas yet self-consciousness is latent, and their conduct is determined\nfor them; those who are re-made in the image of God and glorified as\nChrist is, cannot be thought of as clothed, for in them there is no\nsense of sin. But Adam's clothing himself and hiding himself were the\nhelpless attempts of a guilty conscience to evade the judgment of\ntruth.\n\n(6) But when Adam found he was no longer fit for God's eye, God provided\na covering which might enable him again to live in His presence without\ndismay. Man had exhausted his own ingenuity and resources, and exhausted\nthem without finding relief to his shame. If his shame was to be\neffectually removed, God must do it. And the clothing in coats of skins\nindicates the restoration of man, not indeed to pristine innocence, but\nto peace with God. Adam felt that God did not wish to banish him\nlastingly from His presence, nor to see him always a trembling and\nconfused penitent. The self-respect and progressiveness, the reverence\nfor law and order and God, which came in with clothes, and which we\nassociate with the civilised races, were accepted as tokens that God was\ndesirous to co-operate with man, to forward and further him in all good.\n\nIt is also to be remarked that the clothing which God provided was in\nitself different from what man had thought of. Adam took leaves from an\ninanimate, unfeeling tree; God deprived an animal of life, that the\nshame of His creature might be relieved. This was the last thing Adam\nwould have thought of doing. To us life is cheap and death familiar, but\nAdam recognised death as the punishment of sin. Death was to early man a\nsign of God's anger. And he had to learn that sin could be covered not\nby a bunch of leaves snatched from a bush as he passed by and that would\ngrow again next year, but only by pain and blood. Sin cannot be atoned\nfor by any mechanical action nor without expenditure of feeling.\nSuffering must ever follow wrong-doing. From the first sin to the last,\nthe track of the sinner is marked with blood. Once we have sinned we\ncannot regain permanent peace of conscience save through pain, and this\nnot only pain of our own. The first hint of this was given as soon as\nconscience was aroused in man. It was made apparent that sin was a real\nand deep evil, and that by no easy and cheap process could the sinner be\nrestored. The same lesson has been written on millions of consciences\nsince. Men have found that their sin reaches beyond their own life and\nperson, that it inflicts injury and involves disturbance and distress,\nthat it changes utterly our relation to life and to God, and that we\ncannot rise above its consequences save by the intervention of God\nHimself, by an intervention which tells us of the sorrow He suffers on\nour account.\n\nFor the chief point is that it is God who relieves man's shame. Until we\nare certified that God desires our peace of mind we cannot be at peace.\nThe cross of Christ is the permanent witness to this desire on God's\npart. No one can read what Christ has done for us without feeling sure\nthat for himself there is a way back to God from all sin--that it is\nGod's desire that his sin should be covered, his iniquity forgiven. Too\noften that which seems of prime importance to God seems of very slight\nimportance to us. To have our life founded solidly in harmony with the\nSupreme, seems often to excite no desire within us. It is about sin we\nfind man first dealing with God, and until you have satisfied God and\nyourself regarding this prime and fundamental matter of your own\ntransgression and wrong-doing you look in vain for any deep and lasting\ngrowth and satisfaction. Have you no reason to be ashamed before God?\nHave you loved Him in any proportion to His worthiness to be loved? Have\nyou cordially and habitually fallen in with His will? Have you zealously\ndone His work in the world? Have you fallen short of no good He intended\nyou should do and gave you opportunity to do? Is there no reason for\nshame on your part before God? Has His desire to cover sin no\napplication to you? Can you not understand His meaning when He comes to\nyou with offers of pardon and acts of oblivion? Surely the candid mind,\nthe clear-judging conscience can be at no loss to explain God's\nsolicitous concern for the sinner; and must humbly own that even that\nunfathomable Divine emotion which is exhibited in the cross of Christ,\nis no exaggerated and theatrical demonstration, but the actual carrying\nthrough of what was really needed for the restoration of the sinner. Do\nnot live as if the cross of Christ had never been, or as if you had\nnever sinned and had no connection with it. Strive to learn what it\nmeans; strive to deal fairly with it and fairly with your own\ntransgressions and with your present actual relation to God and His\nwill.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\n_CAIN AND ABEL._\n\nGENESIS iv.\n\n\nIt is not the purpose of this narrator to write the history of the\nworld. It is not his purpose to write even the history of mankind. His\nobject is to write the history of redemption. Starting from the broad\nfact of man's alienation from God, he means to trace that element in\nhuman history which results in the perfect re-union of God and man. The\nkey-note has been struck in the promise already given that the seed of\nthe woman should prevail over the seed of the serpent, that the effects\nof man's voluntary dissociation from God should be removed. It is the\nfulfilment of this promise which is traced by this writer. He steadily\npursues that one line of history which runs directly towards this\nfulfilment; turning aside now and again to pursue, to a greater or less\ndistance, diverging lines, but always returning to the grand highway on\nwhich the promise travels. His method is first to dispose of collateral\nmatter and then to proceed with his main theme. As here, he first\ndisposes of the line of Cain and then returns to Seth through whom the\nline of promise is maintained.\n\nThe first thing we have to do with outside the garden is death--the\ncurse of sin speedily manifests itself in its most terrible form. But\nthe sinner executes it himself. The first death is a murder. As if to\nshow that all death is a wrong inflicted on us and proceeds not from God\nbut from sin, it is inflicted by sin and by the hand of man. Man becomes\nhis own executioner, and takes part with Satan, the murderer from the\nbeginning. But certainly the first feeling produced by these events must\nhave been one of bitter disappointment, as if the promise were to be\nlost in the curse.\n\nThe story of Cain and Abel was to all appearance told in order to point\nout that from the very first men have been divided into two great\nclasses, viewed in connection with God's promise and presence in the\nworld. Always there have been those who believed in God's love and\nwaited for it, and those who believed more in their own force and\nenergy. Always there have been the humble and self-diffident who hoped\nin God, and the proud and self-reliant who felt themselves equal to all\nthe occasions of life. And this story of Cain and Abel and the\nsucceeding generations does not conceal the fact, that for the purposes\nof this world there has been visible an element of weakness in the godly\nline, and that it is to the self-reliant and God-defying energy of the\ndescendants of Cain that we owe much of the external civilisation of the\nworld. While the descendants of Seth pass away and leave only this\nrecord, that they \"walked with God,\" there are found among Cain's\ndescendants, builders of cities, inventors of tools and weapons, music\nand poetry and the beginnings of culture.\n\nThese two opposed lines are in the first instance represented by Cain\nand Abel. With each child that comes into the world some fresh hope is\nbrought; and the name of Cain points to the expectation of his parents\nthat in him a fresh start would be made. Alas! as the boy grew they saw\nhow vain such expectation was and how truly their nature had passed into\nhis, and how no imparted experience of theirs, taught him from without,\ncould countervail the strong propensities to evil which impelled him\nfrom within. They experienced that bitterest punishment which parents\nundergo, when they see their own defects and infirmities and evil\npassions repeated in their children and leading them astray as they once\nled themselves; when in those who are to perpetuate their name and\nremembrance on earth they see evidence that their faults also will be\nperpetuated; when in those whom they chiefly love they have a mirror\nceaselessly held up to them forcing them to remember the follies and\nsins of their own youth. Certainly in the proud, self-willed, sullen\nCain no redemption was to be found.\n\nBoth sons own the necessity of labour. Man is no longer in the primitive\ncondition, in which he had only to stretch out his hand when hungry, and\nsatisfy his appetite. There are still some regions of the earth in which\nthe trees shower fruit, nutritious and easily preserved, on men who shun\nlabour. Were this the case throughout the world, the whole of life would\nbe changed. Had we been created self-sufficing or in such conditions as\ninvolved no necessity of toil, nothing would be as it now is. It is the\nneed of labour that implies occasional starvation and frequent poverty,\nand gives occasion to charity. It is the need of labour which involves\ncommerce and thereby sows the seed of greed, worldliness, ambition,\ndrudgery. The ultimate physical wants of men, food and clothes, are the\nmotive of the greater part of all human activity. Trace to their causes\nthe various industries of men, the wars, the great social movements,\nall that constitutes history, and you find that the bulk of all that is\ndone upon earth is done because men must have food and wish to have it\nas good and with as little labour as possible. The broad facts of human\nlife are in many respects humiliating.\n\nThe disposition of men is consequently shown in the occupations they\nchoose and the idea of life they carry into them. Some, like Abel,\nchoose peaceful callings that draw out feeling and sympathy; others\nprefer pursuits which are stirring and active. Cain chose the tillage of\nthe ground, partly no doubt from the necessity of the case, but probably\nalso with the feeling that he could subdue nature to his own purposes\nnotwithstanding the curse that lay upon it. Do we not all sometimes feel\na desire to take the world as it is, curse and all, and make the most of\nit; to face its disease with human skill, its disturbing and destructive\nelements with human forethought and courage, its sterility and\nstubbornness with human energy and patience? What is stimulating men\nstill to all discovery and invention, to forewarn seamen of coming\nstorms, to break a precarious passage for commerce through eternal ice\nor through malarious swamps, to make life at all points easier and more\nsecure? Is it not the energy which opposition excites? We know that it\nwill be hard work; we expect to have thorns and thistles everywhere, but\nlet us see whether this may not after all be a thoroughly happy world,\nwhether we cannot cultivate the curse altogether out of it. This is\nindeed the very work God has given man to do--to subdue the earth and\nmake the desert blossom as the rose. God is with us in this work, and he\nwho believes in God's purpose and strives to reclaim nature and compel\nit to some better products than it naturally yields, is doing God's\nwork in the world. The misery is that so many do it in the spirit of\nCain, in a spirit of self-confident or sullen alienation from God,\nwilling to endure all hardship but unable to lay themselves at God's\nfeet with every capacity for work and every field He has given them to\ntill for Him and in a spirit of humble love to co-operate with Him. To\nthis spirit of godless energy, of merely selfish or worldly ambition and\nenterprise, the world owes not only much of its poverty and many of its\ngreatest disasters, but also the greater part of its present advantages\nin external civilisation. But from this spirit can never arise the\nmeekness, the patience, the tenderness, the charity which sweeten the\nlife of society and are more to be desired than gold; from this spirit\nand all its achievements the natural outcome is the proud, vindictive,\nself-glorifying war-song of a Lamech.\n\nThe incompatibility of the two lines and the persecuting spirit of the\ngodless are set forth by the after history of Cain and Abel. The one\nline is represented in Cain, who with all his energy and indomitable\ncourage, is depicted as of a dark, morose, suspicious, jealous, violent\ntemper; a man born under the shadow of the fall. Abel is described in\ncontrast as guileless and sunny, free from harshness and resentment.\nWhat was in Cain was shown by what came out of him, murder. The reason\nof the rejection of his offering was his own evil condition of heart.\n\"If thou doest well, shalt not thou also be accepted;\" implying that he\nwas not accepted because he was not doing well. His offering was a mere\nform; he complied with the fashion of the family; but in spirit he was\nalienated from God, cherishing thoughts which the rejection of his\noffering brings to a head. He may have seen that the younger son won\nmore of the parents' affection, that his company was more welcome.\nJealousy had been produced, that deep jealousy of the humble and godly\nwhich proud men of the world cannot help betraying and which has so very\noften in the world's history produced persecution.\n\nThis cannot be considered too weak a motive to carry so enormous a\ncrime. Even in a highly civilised age we find an English statesman\nsaying: \"Pique is one of the strongest motives in the human mind. Fear\nis strong but transient. Interest is more lasting, perhaps, and steady,\nbut weaker; I will ever back pique against them both. It is the spur the\ndevil rides the noblest tempers with, and will do more work with them in\na week, than with other poor jades in a twelve-month.\" And the age of\nCain and Abel was an age in which impulse and action lay close together,\nand in which jealousy is notoriously strong. To this motive John\nascribes the act: \"Wherefore slew he him? Because his own works were\nevil, and his brother's righteous.\"\n\nWe have now learned better how to disguise our feelings; and we are\ncompelled to control them better; but now and again we meet with a\ndeep-seated hatred of goodness which might give rise to almost any\ncrime. Few of us can say that for our own part we have extinguished\nwithin us the spirit that disparages and depreciates and fixes the\ncharge of hypocrisy or refers good actions to interested motives,\nsearches out failings and watches for haltings and is glad when a blot\nis found. Few are filled with unalloyed grief when the man who has borne\nan extraordinary reputation turns out to be just like the rest of us.\nMany of us have a true delight in goodness and humble ourselves before\nit when we see it, and yet we know also what it is to be exasperated by\nthe presence of superiority. I have seen a schoolboy interrupt his\nbrother's prayers, and gird at him for his piety, and strive to draw him\ninto sin, and do the devil's work with zest and diligence. And where\ngoodness is manifestly in the minority how constantly does it excite\nhatred that pours itself out in sneers and ridicule and ignorant\ncalumny.\n\nBut this narrative significantly refers this early quarrel to religion.\nThere is no bitterness to compare with that which worldly men who\nprofess religion, feel towards those who cultivate a spiritual religion.\nThey can never really grasp the distinction between external worship and\nreal godliness. They make their offerings, they attend to the rites of\nthe religion to which they belong and are beside themselves with\nindignation if any person or event suggests to them that they might have\nsaved themselves all their trouble, because these do not at all\nconstitute religion. They uphold the Church, they admire and praise her\nbeautiful services, they use strong but meaningless language about\ninfidelity, and yet when brought in contact with spirituality and\nassured that regeneration and penitent humility are required above all\nelse in the kingdom of God, they betray an utter inability to comprehend\nthe very rudiments of the Christian religion. Abel has always to go to\nthe wall because he is always the weaker party, always in the minority.\nSpiritual religion, from the very nature of the case, must always be in\nthe minority; and must be prepared to suffer loss, calumny, and\nviolence, at the hands of the worldly religious, who have contrived for\nthemselves a worship that calls for no humiliation before God and no\ncomplete surrender of heart and will to Him. Cain is the type of the\nignorant religious, of the unregenerate man who thinks he merits God's\nfavour as much as any one else; and Cain's conduct is the type of the\ntreatment which the Christ-like and intelligent godly are always likely\nto receive at such hands.\n\nWe never know where we may be led by jealousy and malice. One of the\nstriking features of this incident is the rapidity with which small sins\ngenerate great ones. When Cain went in the joy of harvest and offered\nhis first fruits no thought could be further from his mind than murder.\nIt may have come as suddenly on himself as on the unsuspecting Abel, but\nthe germ was in him. Great sins are not so sudden as they seem.\nFamiliarity with evil thought ripens us for evil action; and a moment of\npassion, an hour's loss of self-control, a tempting occasion, may hurry\nus into irremediable evil. And even though this does not happen,\nenvious, uncharitable, and malicious thoughts make our offerings as\ndistasteful as Cain's. He that loveth not his brother knoweth not God.\nFirst be reconciled to thy brother, says our Lord, and then come and\noffer thy gift.\n\nOther truths are incidentally taught in this narrative.\n\n(1) The acceptance of the offering depends on the acceptance of the\nofferer. God had respect to Abel and his offering--the man first and\nthen the offering. God looks through the offering to the state of soul\nfrom which it proceeds; or even, as the words would indicate, sees the\nsoul first and judges and treats the offering according to the inward\ndisposition. God does not judge of what you are by what you say to Him\nor do for Him, but He judges what you say to Him and do for Him by what\nyou are. \"By _faith_\" says a New Testament writer, \"Abel offered a more\nacceptable sacrifice than Cain.\" He had the faith which enabled him to\nbelieve that God is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently\nseek Him. His attitude towards God was sound; his life was a diligent\nseeking to please God; and from all such persons God gladly receives\nacknowledgment. When the offering is the true expression of the soul's\ngratitude, love, devotedness, then it is acceptable. When it is a merely\nexternal offering, that rather veils than expresses the real feeling;\nwhen it is not vivified and rendered significant by any spiritual act on\nthe part of the worshipper, it is plainly of no effect.\n\nWhat is true of all sacrifices is true of the sacrifice of Christ. It\nremains invalid and of none effect to those who do not through it yield\nthemselves to God. Sacrifices were intended to be the embodiment and\nexpression of a state of feeling towards God, of a submission or\noffering of men's selves to God; of a return to that right relation\nwhich ought ever to subsist between creature and Creator. Christ's\nsacrifice is valid for us when it is that outward thing which best\nexpresses our feeling towards God and through which we offer or yield\nourselves to God. His sacrifice is the open door through which God\nfreely admits all who aim at a consecration and obedience like to His.\nIt is valid for us when through it we sacrifice ourselves. Whatever His\nsacrifice expresses we desire to take and use as the only satisfactory\nexpression of our own aims and desires. Did Christ perfectly submit to\nand fulfil the will of God? So would we. Did He acknowledge the infinite\nevil of sin and patiently bear its penalties, still loving the Holy and\nRighteous God? So would we endure all chastening, and still resist unto\nblood striving against sin.\n\n(2) Again, we here find a very sharp and clear statement of the welcome\ntruth, that continuance in sin is never a necessity, that God points the\nway out of sin, and that from the first He has been on man's side and\nhas done all that could be done to keep men from sinning. Observe how He\nexpostulates with Cain. Take note of the plain, explicit fairness of the\nwords in which He expostulates with him--instance, as it is, of how\nabsolutely in the right God always is, and how abundantly He can justify\nall His dealings with us. God says as it were to Cain; Come now: and let\nus reason together. All God wants of any man is to be reasonable; to\nlook at the facts of the case. \"If thou doest well, shalt thou not (as\nwell as Abel) be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the\ndoor,\" that is, if thou doest not well, the sin is not Abel's nor any\none's but thine own, and therefore anger at another is not the proper\nremedy, but anger at yourself, and repentance.\n\nNo language could more forcibly exhibit the unreasonableness of not\nmeeting God with penitent and humble acknowledgment. God has fully met\nour case, and has satisfied all its demands, has set Himself to serve us\nand laid Himself out to save us pain and misery, and has so entirely\nsucceeded in making salvation and blessedness possible to us, that if we\ncontinue in sin we must trample not only upon God's love and our own\nreason, but on the very means of salvation. State your case at the\nworst, bring forward every reason why your countenance should be fallen\nas Cain's and why your face should lower with the gloom of eternal\ndespair--say that you have as clear evidence as Cain had that your\nofferings are displeasing to God, and that while others are accepted you\nreceive no token from Him,--in answer to all your arguments, these\nwords addressed to Cain rise up. If not accepted already you have the\nmeans of being so. If you do well to be hardened in sin it is not\nbecause it is necessary, nor because God desires it. If you are to\ncontinue in sin you must put aside His hand. It can only be _sin_ which\ncauses you either to despair of salvation or keeps you any way separate\nfrom God--there is no other thing worse than sin, and for sin there is\nan offering provided. You have not fallen into some lower grade of\nbeings than that which is designated sinners, and it is sinners that God\nin His mercy hems in with this inevitable dilemma He presented to Cain.\n\nIf, therefore, you continue at war with God it is not because you must\nnot do otherwise: if you go forward to any new thought, plan, or action\nunpardoned; if acceptance of God's forgiveness and entrance into a state\nof reconciliation with Him be not your first action, then you must\nthrust aside His counsel, backed though it is with every utterance of\nyour own reason. Some of us may be this day or this week in as critical\na position as Cain, having as truly as he the making or marring of our\nfuture in our hands, seeing clearly the right course, and all that is\ngood, humble, penitent and wise in us urging us to follow that course,\nbut our pride and self-will holding us back. How often do men thus\nbarter a future of blessing for some mean gratification of temper or\nlust or pride; how often by a reckless, almost listless and indifferent\ncontinuance in sin do they let themselves be carried on to a future as\nwoful as Cain's; how often when God expostulates with them do they make\nno answer and take no action, as if there were nothing to be gained by\nlistening to God--as if it were a matter of no importance what future I\ngo to--as if in the whole eternity that lies in reserve there were\nnothing worth making a choice about--nothing about which it is worth my\nwhile to rouse the whole energy of which I am capable, and to make, by\nGod's grace, the determination which shall alter my whole future--to\nchoose for myself and assert myself.\n\n(3) The writer to the Hebrews makes a very striking use of this event.\nHe borrows from it language in which to magnify the efficacy of Christ's\nsacrifice, and affirms that the blood of Christ speaketh better things,\nor, as it must rather be rendered, crieth louder than the blood of Abel.\nAbel's blood, we see, cried for vengeance, for evil things for Cain,\ncalled God to make inquisition for blood, and so pled as to secure the\nbanishment of the murderer. The Arabs have a belief that over the grave\nof a murdered man his spirit hovers in the form of a bird that cries\n\"Give me drink, give me drink,\" and only ceases when the blood of the\nmurderer is shed. Cain's conscience told him the same thing; there was\nno criminal law threatening death to the murderer, but he felt that men\nwould kill him if they could. He heard the blood of Abel crying from the\nearth. The blood of Christ also cries to God, but cries not for\nvengeance but for pardon. And as surely as the one cry was heard and\nanswered in very substantial results; so surely does the other cry call\ndown from heaven its proper and beneficent effects. It is as if the\nearth would not receive and cover the blood of Christ, but ever exposes\nit before God and cries to Him to be faithful and just to forgive us our\nsins. This blood cries louder than the other. If God could not overlook\nthe blood of one of His servants, but adjudged to it its proper\nconsequences, neither is it possible that He should overlook the blood\nof His Son and not give to it its proper result.\n\nIf then you feel in your conscience that you are as guilty as Cain, and\nif sins clamour around you which are as dangerous as his, and which cry\nout for judgment upon you, accept the assurance that the blood of Christ\nhas a yet louder cry for mercy. If you had been Abel's murderer, would\nyou have been justly afraid of God's anger? Be as sure of God's mercy\nnow. If you had stood over his lifeless body and seen the earth refusing\nto cover his blood, if you felt the stain of it crimson on your\nconscience and if by night you started from your sleep striving vainly\nto wash it from your hands, if by every token you felt yourself exposed\nto a just punishment, your fear would be just and reasonable were\nnothing else revealed to you. But there is another blood equally\nindelible, equally clamorous. In it you have in reality what is\nelsewhere pretended in fable, that the blood of the murdered man will\nnot wash out, but through every cleansing oozes up again a dark stain on\nthe oaken floor. This blood can really not be washed out, it cannot be\ncovered up and hid from God's eye, its voice cannot be stifled, and its\ncry is all for mercy.\n\nWith how different a meaning then comes now to us this question of\nGod's: \"Where is thy brother?\" Our Brother also is slain. Him Whom God\nsent among us to reverse the curse, to lighten the burden of this life,\nto be the loving member of the family on Whom each leans for help and\nlooks to for counsel and comfort--Him Who was by His goodness to be as\nthe dayspring from on high in our darkness, we found _too_ good for our\nendurance and dealt with as Cain dealt with his more righteous brother.\nBut He Whom we slew God has raised again to give repentance and\nremission of sins, and assures us that His blood cleanseth from all sin.\nTo every one therefore He repeats this question, \"Where is thy brother?\"\nHe repeats it to every one who is living with a conscience stained with\nsin; to every one that knows remorse and walks with the hanging head of\nshame; to every one whose whole life is saddened by the consciousness\nthat all is not settled between God and himself; to every one who is\nsinning recklessly as if Christ's blood had never been shed for sin; and\nto every one who, though seeking to be at peace with God, is troubled\nand downcast--to all God says, \"Where is thy brother?\" tenderly\nreminding us of the absolute satisfaction for sin that has been made,\nand of the hope towards God we have through the blood of His Son.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\n_CAIN'S LINE, AND ENOCH._\n\nGENESIS iv. 12-24.\n\n\n\"My punishment is greater than I can bear,\" so felt Cain as soon as his\npassion had spent itself and the consequences of his wickedness became\napparent--and so feels every one who finds he has now to live in the\npresence of the irrevocable deed he has done. It seems too heavy a\npenalty to endure for the one hour of passion; and yet as little as Cain\ncould rouse the dead Abel so little can we revive the past we have\ndestroyed. Thoughtlessness has set in motion agencies we are powerless\nto control; the whole world is changed to us. One can fancy Cain turning\nto see if his victim gave no sign of life, striving to reanimate the\ndead body, calling the familiar name, but only to see with growing\ndismay that the one blow had finished all with which that name was\nassociated, and that he had made himself a new world. So are we drawn\nback and back in thought to that which has for ever changed life to us,\nstriving to see if there is no possibility of altering the past, but\nonly to find we might quite as well try to raise the dead. No voice\nresponds to our cries of grief and dismay and too late repentance. All\nlife now seems but a reaping of the consequences of the past. We have\nput ourselves in every respect at a disadvantage. The earth seems\ncursed so that we are hampered in our employments and cannot make as\nmuch of them as we would had we been innocent. We have got out of right\nrelations to our fellow-men and cannot feel the same to them as we ought\nto feel; and the face of God is hid from us, so that now and again as\ntime after time our hopes are blighted, our life darkened and disturbed\nby the obvious results of our own past deeds, we are tempted to cry out\nwith Cain: \"My punishment is greater than I can bear.\"\n\nYet Cain's punishment was less than he expected. He was not put to death\nas he would have been at any later period of the world's history, but\nwas banished. And even this punishment was lightened by his having a\ntoken from God, that he would not be put to death by any zealous avenger\nof Abel. He would experience the hardships of a man entering unexplored\nterritory, but to an enterprising spirit this would not be without its\ncharms. As the fresh beauties of the world's youth were disclosed to him\nand by their bright and peaceful friendliness allayed the bitterness of\nhis spirit, and as the mysteries and dangers of the new regions excited\nhim and called his thoughts from the past, some of the old delight in\nlife may have been recovered by him. Probably in many a lonely hour the\nrecollection of his crime would return and with it all the horrors of a\nremorse which would drive rest and peace from his soul, and render him\nthe most wretched of men. But busied as he was with his new enterprises,\nthere is little doubt that he would find it, as it is still found, not\nimpossible to banish such dreary thoughts and live in the measure of\ncontentment which many enjoy who are as far from God as Cain.\n\nIt is not difficult to detect the spirit he carried with him, and the\ntone he gave to his line of the race. The facts recorded are few but\nsignificant. He begat a son, he built a city; and he gave to both the\nname Enoch, that is \"initiation,\" or \"beginning,\" as if he were saying\nin his heart, \"What so great harm after all in cutting short one line in\nAbel? I can begin another and find a new starting point for the race. I\nam driven forth cursed as a vagabond, but a vagabond I will not be; I\nwill make for myself a settled abode, and I will fence it round with\nknife-blade thorns so that no man will be able to assault me.\"\n\nIn this settling of Cain, however, we see not any symptom of his ceasing\nto be a vagabond, but the surest evidence that now he was content to be\na fugitive from God and had cut himself off from hope. His heart had\nfound rest and had found it apart from God. _Here_, in this city he\nwould make a fresh beginning for himself and for men. Here he abandoned\nall clinging memories of former things, of his old home and of the God\nthere worshipped. He had wisdom enough not to call his city by his own\nname, and so invite men to consider his former career or trace back\nanything to his old life. He cut it all off from him; his crime, his God\nalso, all that was in it was to be no more to him and his comrades. He\nwould make a clean start, and that men might be led to expect a great\nfuture he called his city, Enoch, a Beginning.\n\nBut it is one thing to forgive ourselves, another thing to have God's\nforgiveness. It is one thing to reconcile ourselves to the curse that\nruns through our life, another thing to be reconciled to God and so\ndefeat the curse. It is sometimes, though by no means always, possible\nto escape some of the consequences of sin: we can change our front so as\nto lessen the breadth of life that is exposed to them, or we can\naccustom and harden ourselves to a very second-rate kind of life. We can\nteach ourselves to live without much love in our homes or in our\nconnections with those outside; we can learn to be satisfied if we can\npay our way and make the time pass and be outwardly like other people;\nwe can build a little city, and be content to be on no very friendly\nterms with any but the select few inside the trench, and actually be\nquite satisfied if we can _defend ourselves against_ the rest of men; we\ncan forget the one commandment, that we should love one another. We can\nall find much in the world to comfort, to lull, to soothe sorrowful but\nwholesome remembrances; much to aid us in an easy treatment of the\ncurse; much to shed superficial brightness on a life darkened and\ndebased by sin, much to hush up the sad echoes that mutter from the dark\nmountains of vanity we have left behind us, much that assures us we have\nnothing to do but forget our old sins and busily occupy ourselves with\nnew duties. But no David will say, nor will any man of true spiritual\ndiscernment say, \"Blessed is the man whose transgression is\n_forgotten_;\" but only, \"Blessed is the man whose transgression is\nforgiven.\" By all means make a fresh start, a new beginning, but let it\nbe in your own broken heart, in a spirit humble and contrite, frankly\nacknowledging your guilt and finding rest and settlement for your soul\nin reconciliation with God.\n\nIt is in the family of Lamech the characteristics of Cain's line are\nmost distinctly seen, and the significance of their tendencies becomes\napparent. As Cain had set himself to cultivate the curse out of the\nworld, so have his children derived from him the self-reliant hardiness\nand hardihood which are resolute to make of this world as bright and\nhappy a home as may be. They make it their task to subdue the world and\ncompel it to yield them a life in which they can delight. They are so\nfar successful that in a few generations they have formed a home in\nwhich all the essentials of civilized life are found--the arts are\ncultivated and female society is appreciated.\n\nOf his three sons, Jabal--or \"Increase\"--was \"the father of such as\ndwell in tents and of such as have cattle.\" He had originality enough to\nstep beyond all traditional habits and to invent a new mode of life.\nHitherto men had been tied to one spot by their fixed habitations, or\nfound shelter when overtaken by storm in caves or trees. To Jabal the\nidea first occurs, I can carry my house about with me and regulate its\nmovements and not it mine. I need not return every night this long weary\nway from the pastures, but may go wherever grass is green and streams\nrun cool. He and his comrades would thus become aware of the vast\nresources of other lands, and would unconsciously lay the foundations\nboth of commerce and of wars of conquest. For both in ancient and more\nmodern times the most formidable armies have been those vast moving\nshepherd races bred outside the borders of civilization and flooding as\nwith an irresistible tide the territories of more settled and less hardy\ntribes.\n\nJubal again was, as his name denotes, the reputed father of all such as\nhandle the harp and the organ, stringed and wind instruments. The stops\nof the reed or flute and the divisions of the string being once\ndiscovered, all else necessarily followed. The twanging of a bow-string\nin a musical ear was enough to give the suggestion to an observant mind;\nthe varying notes of the birds; the winds expressing at one time\nunbridled fury and at another a breathing benediction, could not fail to\nmove and stir the susceptible spirit. The spontaneous though untuned\nsinging of children, that follows no mere melody made by another to\nexpress _his_ joy, but is the instinctive expression of their own joy,\ncould not but give however meagrely the first rudiments of music. But\nhere was the man who first made a piece of wood help him; who out of the\ncommonest material of the physical world found for himself a means of\nexpressing the most impalpable moods of his spirit. Once the idea was\ncaught that matter inanimate as well as animate was man's servant and\ncould do his finest work for him, Jabal and his brother Jubal would make\nrapid work between them. If the rude matter of the world could _sing_\nfor them, what might it not do for them? They would see that there was a\nprecision in machine-work which man's hand could not rival--a regularity\nwhich no nervous throb could throw out and no feeling interrupt, and yet\nat the same time when they found how these rude instruments responded to\nevery finest shade of feeling, and how all external nature seemed able\nto express what was in man, must it not have been the birth of poetry as\nwell as of music? Jubal in short originates what we now compendiously\ndescribe as the Fine Arts.\n\nThe third brother again may be taken as the originator of the Useful\nArts--though not exclusively--for being the instructor of every\nartificer in brass and iron, having something of his brother's genius\nfor invention and more than his brother's handiness and practical\nfaculty for embodying his ideas in material forms, he must have promoted\nall arts which require tools for their culture.\n\nThus among these three brothers we find distributed the various kinds of\ngenius and faculty which ever since have enriched the world. Here in\ngerm was really all that the world can do. The great lines in which\nindividual and social activity have since run were then laid down.\n\nThis notable family circle was completed by Naamah, the sister of\nTubal-Cain. The strength of female influence began to be felt\ncontemporaneously with the cultivation of the arts. Very early in the\nworld's history it was perceived that although debarred from the rougher\nactivities of life, women have an empire of their own. Men have the\nmaking of civilisation, but women have the making of men. It is they who\nform the character of the individual and give its tone to the society in\nwhich they live. It is natural to men to consider the feelings and\ntastes of women and to adapt their manners and conversation to them; and\nit is for women to exercise worthily the sway they thus possess.\nPractically and to a large extent women settle what subjects shall be\nspoken of, and in what tone, trifling or serious; and each ought\ntherefore to recognise her own burden of responsibility, and see to it\nthat the deference paid to her shall not lower him who pays it, and that\nthe respect shown to her shall help him who shows it to respect what is\npure and true, charitable, just, and worthy. Let women show that it is\nworldly trifling or slanderous malignity or empty tittle-tattle that\ndelights them, then they act the part of Eve and tempt to sin; let them\nshow that they prize most highly the mirth that is innocent and the\nconversation that is elevating and helpful, and while they win\nadmiration for themselves they win it also for what is healthy and\npurifying. No woman can renounce her influence; helpful or hurtful she\ncertainly is and must be in proportion as she is pleasing and\nattractive.\n\nThus early did it appear how much of what is admirable and serviceable\nclung to human nature apart from any recognition of God. The worldly\nlife was then what it is now, a life not wholly and obviously polluted\nby excess, nor destroyed by violence, but displaying features which\nappeal to our sensibilities and provoke applause; a life of manifold\nbeauty, of great power and resource, of abundant promise. There is\nabundant material in the world for beautifying and elevating human life,\nand this material may be used and is used by men who acknowledge neither\nits origin in God nor the ends He would serve by it. The interests of\nmen may be advanced and the best work of the world done by three\ndistinct classes of men--by those who work as God's children in thorough\nsympathy with His purposes; by those who do not know God but who are\nhumble in heart and would sympathise with God's purposes, did they\nbecome acquainted with them; and by those who are proud and self-willed,\npositively alienated from God, and who do the world's work for their own\nends. And so far as the external work goes the last-named class of men\nmay be most efficient. In mental endowment, social and political wisdom,\nscientific aptitude, and all that tends to substantial utility, it is\nquite possible they may excel the godly, for \"not many noble, not many\nwise are called.\" But we have nothing to measure permanent success by,\nsave conformity with God's will; and we have nothing by which we can\nestimate how character will endure and how deeply it is rooted save\nconformity with the nature of God. If a man believes in God, in one\nSupreme Who rules and orders all things for just, holy and wise ends;\nif he is in sympathy with the nature and will of God and finds his\ntruest satisfaction in forwarding the purposes of God, then you have a\nguarantee for this man's continuance in good and for his ultimate\nsuccess.\n\nThe precarious nature of all godless civilisation and the real tendency\nof self-sufficing pride are shown in Lamech.\n\nIt is in Lamech the tendency culminates and in him the issue of all this\nbrilliant but godless life is seen. Therefore though he is the father,\nthe historian speaks of him _after_ his children. In his one recorded\nutterance his character leaps to view definite and complete--a character\nof boundless force, self-reliance and godlessness. It is a little\nuncertain whether he means that he has actually slain a man, or whether\nhe is putting a hypothetical case--the character of his speech is the\nsame whichever view is taken.\n\n    \"I have slain,\" he says, or suppose I slay, \"a man for wounding me,\n        A young man for hurting me:\n    But if Cain shall be avenged seven-fold--then Lamech seventy and\n        seven-fold.\"\n\nThat is, I take vengeance for myself with those good weapons my son has\nforged for me. He has furnished me with a means of defence many times\nmore effectual than God's avenging of Cain. This is the climax of the\nself-sufficiency to which the line of Cain has been tending. Cain\nbesought God's protection; he needed God for at least one purpose, this\none thread bound him yet to God. Lamech has no need of God for any\npurpose; what his sons can make and his own right hand do is enough for\nhim. This is what comes of finding enough in the world without God--a\nboastful, self-sufficient man, dangerous to society, the incarnation of\nthe pride of life. In the long run separation from God becomes isolation\nfrom man and cruel self-sufficiency.\n\nThe line of Seth is followed from father to son, for the sake of showing\nthat the promise of a seed which should be victorious over evil was\nbeing fulfilled. Apparently it is also meant that during this uneventful\nperiod long ages elapsed. Nothing can be told of these old world people\nbut that they lived and died, leaving behind them heirs to transmit the\npromise.\n\nOnly once is the monotony broken; but this in so striking a manner as to\nrescue us from the idea that the historian is mechanically copying a\nbarren list of names. For in the seventh generation, contemporaneous\nwith the culmination of Cain's line in the family of Lamech, we come\nupon the simple but anything but mechanical statement: \"Enoch walked\nwith God and he was not; for God took him.\" The phrase is full of\nmeaning. Enoch walked with God because he was His friend and liked His\ncompany, because he was going in the same direction as God, and had no\ndesire for anything but what lay in God's path. We walk with God when He\nis in all our thoughts; not because we consciously think of Him at all\ntimes, but because He is naturally suggested to us by all we think of;\nas when any person or plan or idea has become important to us, no matter\nwhat we think of, our thought is always found recurring to this\nfavourite object, so with the godly man everything has a connection with\nGod and must be ruled by that connection. When some change in his\ncircumstances is thought of, he has first of all to determine how the\nproposed change will affect his connection with God--will his conscience\nbe equally clear, will he be able to live on the same friendly terms\nwith God and so forth. When he falls into sin he cannot rest till he\nhas resumed his place at God's side and walks again with Him. This is\nthe general nature of walking with God; it is a persistent endeavour to\nhold all our life open to God's inspection and in conformity to His\nwill; a readiness to give up what we find does cause any\nmisunderstanding between us and God; a feeling of loneliness if we have\nnot some satisfaction in our efforts at holding fellowship with God, a\ncold and desolate feeling when we are conscious of doing something that\ndispleases Him. This walking with God necessarily tells on the whole\nlife and character. As you instinctively avoid subjects which you know\nwill jar upon the feelings of your friend, as you naturally endeavour to\nsuit yourself to your company, so when the consciousness of God's\npresence begins to have some weight with you, you are found\ninstinctively endeavouring to please Him, repressing the thoughts you\nknow He disapproves, and endeavouring to educate such dispositions as\nreflect His own nature.\n\nIt is easy then to understand how we may practically walk with God--it\nis to open to Him all our purposes and hopes, to seek His judgment on\nour scheme of life and idea of happiness--it is to be on thoroughly\nfriendly terms with God. Why then do any not walk with God? Because they\nseek what is wrong. You would walk with Him if the same idea of good\npossessed you as possesses Him; if you were as ready as He to make no\ndeflexion from the straight path. Is not the very crown of life depicted\nin the testimony given to Enoch, that \"he pleased God\"? Cannot you take\nyour way through life with a resolute and joyous spirit if you are\nconscious that you please Him Who judges not by appearances, not by your\nmanners, but by your real state, by your actual character and the\neternal promise it bears? Things were not made easy to Enoch. In evil\ndays, with much to mislead him, with everything to oppose him, he had by\nfaith and diligent seeking, as the Epistle to the Hebrews says, to\ncleave to the path on which God walked, often left in darkness, often\nthrown off the track, often listening but unable to hear the footfall of\nGod or to hear his own name called upon, receiving no sign but still\ndiligently seeking the God he knew would lead him only to good. Be it\nyours to give such diligence. Do not accept it as a thing fixed that you\nare to be one of the graceless and ungodly, always feeble, always\nvacillating, always without a character, always in doubt about your\nstate, and whether life might not be some other and better thing to you.\n\n\"Enoch was not, for God took him.\" Suddenly his place on earth was empty\nand men drew their own conclusions. He had been known as the Friend of\nGod, where could he be but in God's dwelling-place? No sickness had\nslowly worn him to the grave, no mark of decay had been visible in his\nunabated vigour. His departure was a favour conferred and as such men\nrecognised it. \"God has taken him,\" they said, and their thoughts\nfollowed upward, and essayed to conceive the finished bliss of the man\nwhom God has taken away where blessing may be more fully conferred. His\nage corresponded to our thirty-three, the age when the world has usually\ngot fair hold of a man, when a man has found his place in life and means\nto live and see good days. The awkward, unfamiliar ways of youth that\nkeep him outside of much of life are past, and the satiety of age is not\nyet reached; a man has begun to learn there is something he can do, and\nhas not yet learned how little. It is an age at which it is most\npainful to relinquish life, but it was at this age God took him away,\nand men knew it was in kindness. Others had begun to gather round him,\nand depend upon him, hopes were resting in him, great things were\nexpected of him, life was strong in him. But let life dress itself in\nits most attractive guise, let it shine on a man with its most\nfascinating smile, let him be happy at home and the pleasing centre of a\npleasing circle of friends, let him be in that bright summer of life\nwhen a man begins to fear he is too prosperous and happy, and yet there\nis for man a better thing than all this, a thing so immeasurably and\nindependently superior to it that all this may be taken away and yet the\nman be far more blessed. If God would confer His highest favours, He\nmust take a man out of all this and bring him closer to Himself.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\n_THE FLOOD._\n\nGENESIS v.-ix.\n\n\nThe first great event which indelibly impressed itself on the memory of\nthe primeval world was the Flood. There is every reason to believe that\nthis catastrophe was co-extensive with the human population of the\nworld. In every branch of the human family traditions of the event are\nfound. These traditions need not be recited, though some of them bear a\nremarkable likeness to the Biblical story, while others are very\nbeautiful in their construction, and significant in individual points.\nLocal floods happening at various times in different countries could not\nhave given birth to the minute coincidences found in these traditions,\nsuch as the sending out of the birds, and the number of persons saved.\nBut we have as yet no material for calculating how far human population\nhad spread from the original centre. It might apparently be argued that\nit could not have spread to the sea-coast, or that at any rate no ships\nhad as yet been built large enough to weather a severe storm; for a\nthoroughly nautical population could have had little difficulty in\nsurviving such a catastrophe as is here described. But all that can be\naffirmed is that there is no evidence that the waters extended beyond\nthe inhabited part of the earth; and from certain details of the\nnarrative, this part of the earth may be identified as the great plain\nof the Euphrates and Tigris.\n\nSome of the expressions used in the narrative might indeed lead us to\nsuppose that the writer understood the catastrophe to have extended over\nthe whole globe; but expressions of similar largeness elsewhere occur in\npassages where their meaning must be restricted. Probably the most\nconvincing evidence of the limited extent of the Flood is furnished by\nthe animals of Australia. The animals that abound in that island are\ndifferent from those found in other parts of the world, but are similar\nto the species which are found fossilized in the island itself, and\nwhich therefore must have inhabited these same regions long anterior to\nthe Flood. If then the Flood extended to Australia and destroyed all\nanimal life there, what are we compelled to suppose as the order of\nevents? We must suppose that the creatures, visited by some presentiment\nof what was to happen many months after, selected specimens of their\nnumber, and that these specimens by some unknown and quite inconceivable\nmeans crossed thousands of miles of sea, found their way through all\nkinds of perils from unaccustomed climate, food, and beasts of prey;\nsingled out Noah by some inscrutable instinct, and surrendered\nthemselves to his keeping. And after the year in the ark expired, they\nturned their faces homewards, leaving behind them no progeny, again\npreserving themselves intact, and transporting themselves by some\nunknown means to their island home. This, if the Deluge was universal,\nmust have been going on with thousands of animals from all parts of the\nglobe; and not only were these animals a stupendous miracle in\nthemselves, but wherever they went they were the occasion of miracle in\nothers, all the beasts of prey refraining from their natural food. The\nfact is, the thing will not bear stating.\n\nBut it is not the physical but the moral aspects of the Flood with which\nwe have here to do. And, first, this narrator explains its cause. He\nascribes it to the abnormal wickedness of the antediluvians. To describe\nthe demoralised condition of society before the Flood, the strongest\nlanguage is used. \"God saw that the wickedness of man was great,\"\nmonstrous in acts of violence, and in habitual courses and established\nusages. \"Every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil\ncontinually,\"--there was no mixture of good, no relentings, no\nrepentances, no visitings of compunction, no hesitations and debatings.\nIt was a world of men fierce and energetic, violent and lawless, in\nperpetual war and turmoil; in which if a man sought to live a righteous\nlife, he had to conceive it of his own mind and to follow it out unaided\nand without the countenance of any.\n\nThis abnormal wickedness again is accounted for by the abnormal\nmarriages from which the leaders of these ages sprang. Everything seemed\nabnormal, huge, inhuman. As there are laid bare to the eye of the\ngeologist in those archaic times vast forms bearing a likeness to forms\nwe are now familiar with, but of gigantic proportions and wallowing in\ndim, mist-covered regions; so to the eye of the historian there loom\nthrough the obscurity colossal forms perpetrating deeds of more than\nhuman savagery, and strength, and daring; heroes that seem formed in a\ndifferent mould from common men.\n\nHowever we interpret the narrative, its significance for us is plain.\nThere is nothing prudish in the Bible. It speaks with a manly frankness\nof the beauty of women and its ensnaring power. The Mosaic law was\nstringent against intermarriage with idolatresses, and still in the New\nTestament something more than an echo of the old denunciation of such\nmarriages is heard. Those who were most concerned about preserving a\npure morality and a high tone in society were keenly alive to the\ndangers that threatened from this quarter. It is a permanent danger to\ncharacter because it is to a permanent element in human nature that the\ntemptation appeals. To many in every generation, perhaps to the\nmajority, this is the most dangerous form in which worldliness presents\nitself; and to resist this the most painful test of principle. With\nnatures keenly sensitive to beauty and superficial attractiveness, some\nare called upon to make their choice between a conscientious cleaving to\nGod and an attachment to that which in the form is perfect but at heart\nis defective, depraved, godless. Where there is great outward attraction\na man fights against the growing sense of inward uncongeniality, and\npersuades himself he is too scrupulous and uncharitable, or that he is a\nbad reader of character. There may be an undercurrent of warning; he may\nbe sensible that his whole nature is not satisfied and it may seem to\nhim ominous that what is best within him does not flourish in his new\nattachment, but rather what is inferior, if not what is worst. But all\nsuch omens and warnings are disregarded and stifled by some such silly\nthought as that consideration and calculation are out of place in such\nmatters. And what is the result? The result is the same as it ever was.\nInstead of the ungodly rising to the level of the godly, he sinks to\nhers. The worldly style, the amusements, the fashions once distasteful\nto him, but allowed for her sake, become familiar, and at last wholly\ndisplace the old and godly ways, the arrangements that left room for\nacknowledging God in the family; and there is one household less as a\npoint of resistance to the incursion of an ungodly tone in society, one\ndeserter more added to the already too crowded ranks of the ungodly, and\nthe life-time if not the eternity of one soul embittered. Not without a\nconsideration of the temptations that do actually lead men astray did\nthe law enjoin: \"Thou shalt not make a covenant with the inhabitants of\nthe land, nor take of their daughters unto thy sons.\"\n\nIt seems like a truism to say that a greater amount of unhappiness has\nbeen produced by mismanagement, folly, and wickedness in the relation\nsubsisting between men and women than by any other cause. God has given\nus the capacity of love to regulate this relation and be our safe guide\nin all matters connected with it. But frequently, from one cause or\nanother, the government and direction of this relation are taken out of\nthe hands of love and put into the thoroughly incompetent hands of\nconvenience, or fancy, or selfish lust. A marriage contracted from any\nsuch motive is sure to bring unhappiness of a long-continued, wearing\nand often heart-breaking kind. Such a marriage is often the form in\nwhich retribution comes for youthful selfishness and youthful\nlicentiousness. You cannot cheat nature. Just in so far as you allow\nyourself to be ruled in youth by a selfish love of pleasure, in so far\ndo you incapacitate yourself for love. You sacrifice what is genuine and\nsatisfying, because provided by nature, to what is spurious,\nunsatisfying, and shameful. You cannot afterwards, unless by a long and\nbitter discipline, restore the capacity of warm and pure love in your\nheart. Every indulgence in which true love is absent is another blow\ngiven to the faculty of love within you--you make yourself in that\ncapacity decrepit, paralyzed, dead. You have lost, you have killed the\nfaculty that should be your guide in all these matters, and so you are\nat last precipitated without this guidance into a marriage formed from\nsome other motive, formed therefore against nature, and in which you are\nthe everlasting victim of nature's relentless justice. Remember that you\ncannot have both things, a youth of loveless pleasure and a loving\nmarriage--you must make your choice. For as surely as genuine love kills\nall evil desire; so surely does evil desire kill the very capacity of\nlove, and blind utterly its wretched victim to the qualities that ought\nto excite love.\n\nThe language used of God in relation to this universal corruption\nstrikes every one as remarkable. \"It repented the Lord that He had made\nman on the earth, and it grieved Him at His heart.\" This is what is\nusually termed anthropomorphism, _i.e._ the presenting of God in terms\napplicable only to man; it is an instance of the same mode of speaking\nas is used when we speak of God's hand or eye or heart. These\nexpressions are not absolutely true, but they are useful and convey to\nus a meaning which could scarcely otherwise be expressed. Some persons\nthink that the use of these expressions proves that in early times God\nwas thought of as wearing a body and as being very like ourselves in His\ninward nature. And even in our day we have been ridiculed for speaking\nof God as a magnified man. Now in the first place the use of such\nexpressions does not prove that even the earliest worshippers of God\nbelieved Him to have eyes and hands and a body. _We_ freely use the same\nexpressions though we have no such belief. We use them because our\nlanguage is formed for human uses and on a human level, and we have no\ncapacity to frame a better. And in the second place, though not\nabsolutely true they do help us towards the truth. We are told that it\ndegrades God to think of Him as hearing prayer and accepting praise;\nnay, that to think of Him as a Person at all, is to degrade Him. We\nought to think of Him as the Absolutely Unknowable. But which degrades\nGod most, and which exalts Him most? If we find that it is impossible to\nworship an absolutely unknowable, if we find that practically such an\nidea is a mere nonentity to us, and that we cannot in point of fact pay\nany homage or show any consideration to such an empty abstraction, is\nnot this really to lower God? And if we find that when we think of Him\nas a Person, and ascribe to Him all human virtue in an infinite degree,\nwe can rejoice in Him and worship Him with true adoration, is not this\nto exalt Him? While we call Him our Father we know that this title is\ninadequate, while we speak of God as planning and decreeing we know that\nwe are merely making shift to express what is inexpressible by us--we\nknow that our thoughts of Him are never adequate and that to think of\nHim at all is to lower Him, is to think of Him inadequately; but when\nthe practical alternative is such as it is, we find we do well to think\nof Him with the highest personal attributes we can conceive. For to\nrefuse to ascribe such attributes to Him because this is degrading Him,\nis to empty our minds of any idea of Him which can stimulate either to\nworship or to duty. If by ridding our minds of all anthropomorphic ideas\nand refusing to think of God as feeling, thinking, acting as men do, we\ncould thereby get to a really higher conception of Him, a conception\nwhich would practically make us worship Him more devotedly and serve\nHim more faithfully, then by all means let us do so. But if the result\nof refusing to think of Him as in many ways like ourselves, is that we\ncease to think of Him at all or only as a dead impersonal force, then\nthis certainly is not to reach a higher but a lower conception of Him.\nAnd until we see our way to some truly higher conception than that which\nwe have of a Personal God, we had better be content with it.\n\nIn short, we do well to be humble, and considering that we know very\nlittle about existence of any kind, and least of all about God's, and\nthat our God has been presented to us in human form, we do well to\naccept Christ as our God, to worship, love, and serve Him, finding Him\nsufficient for all our wants of this life, and leaving it to other times\nto get the solution of anything that is not made plain to us in Him.\nThis is one boon that the science and philosophy of our day have\nunintentionally conferred upon us. They have laboured to make us feel\nhow remote and inaccessible God is, how little we can know Him, how\ntruly He is past finding out; they have laboured to make us feel how\nintangible and invisible and incomprehensible God is, but the result of\nthis is that we turn with all the stronger longing to Him who is the\nImage of the Invisible God, and on whom a voice has fallen from the\nexcellent glory, \"This is My beloved Son, hear Him.\"\n\nThe Flood itself we need not attempt to describe. It has been remarked\nthat though the narrative is vivid and forcible, it is entirely wanting\nin that sort of description which in a modern historian or poet would\nhave occupied the largest space. \"We see nothing of the death-struggle;\nwe hear not the cry of despair; we are not called upon to witness the\nfrantic agony of husband and wife, and parent and child, as they fled in\nterror before the rising waters. Nor is a word said of the sadness of\nthe one righteous man, who, safe himself, looked upon the destruction\nwhich he could not avert.\" The Chaldean tradition which is the most\nclosely allied to the Biblical account is not so reticent. Tears are\nshed in heaven over the catastrophe, and even consternation affected its\ninhabitants, while within the ark itself the Chaldean Noah says, \"When\nthe storm came to an end and the terrible water-spout ceased, I opened\nthe window and the light smote upon my face. I looked at the sea\nattentively observing, and the whole of humanity had returned to mud,\nlike seaweed the corpses floated. I was seized with sadness; I sat down\nand wept and my tears fell upon my face.\"\n\nThere can be little question that this is a true description of Noah's\nfeeling. And the sense of desolation and constraint would rather\nincrease in Noah's mind than diminish. Month after month elapsed; he was\ncoming daily nearer the end of his food, and yet the waters were\nunabated. He did not know how long he was to be kept in this dark,\ndisagreeable place. He was left to do his daily work without any\nsupernatural signs to help him against his natural anxieties. The\nfloating of the ark and all that went on in it had no mark of God's hand\nupon it. He was indeed _safe_ while others had been destroyed. But of\nwhat good was this safety to be? Was he ever to get out of this\nprison-house? To what straits was he to be first reduced? So it is often\nwith ourselves. We are left to fulfil God's will without any sensible\ntokens to set over against natural difficulties, painful and pinching\ncircumstances, ill health, low spirits, failure of favourite projects\nand old hopes--so that at last we come to think that perhaps safety is\nall we are to have in Christ, a mere exemption from suffering of one\nkind purchased by the endurance of much suffering of another kind; that\nwe are to be thankful for pardon on any terms; and escaping with our\n_life_, must be content though it be bare. Why, how often does a\nChristian wonder whether, after all, he has chosen a life that he can\nendure, whether the monotony and the restraints of the Christian life\nare not inconsistent with true enjoyment?\n\nThis strife between the felt restriction of the Christian life and the\nnatural craving for abundant life, for entrance into all that the\nworld can show us, and experience of all forms of enjoyment--this\nstrife goes on unceasingly in the heart of many of us as it goes on\nfrom age to age in the world. Which is the true view of life, which is\nthe view to guide _us_ in choosing and refusing the enjoyments and\npursuits that are presented to us? Are we to believe that the ideal\nman for this life is he who has tasted all culture and delight, who\nbelieves in nature, recognising no fall and seeking for no redemption,\nand makes enjoyment his end; or he who sees that all enjoyment is\ndeceptive till man is set right morally, and who spends himself on\nthis, knowing that blood and misery must come before peace and rest,\nand crowned as our King and Leader, not with a garland of roses, but\nwith the crown of Him Who is greatest of all, because servant of\nall--to Whom the most sunken is not repulsive, and Who will not\nabandon the most hopeless? This comes to be very much the question,\nwhether this life is final or preparatory?--whether, therefore, our\nwork in it should be to check lower propensities and develop and train\nall that is best in character, so as to be fit for highest life and\nenjoyment in a world to come--or should take ourselves as we find\nourselves, and delight in this present world? whether this is a placid\neternal state, in which things are very much as they should be, and in\nwhich therefore we can live freely and enjoy freely; or whether it is\na disordered, initial condition in which our main task should be to do\na little towards putting things on a better rail and getting at least\nthe germ and small beginnings of future good planted in one another?\nSo that in the midst of all felt restriction, there is the highest\nhope, that one day we shall go forth from the narrow precincts of our\nark, and step out into the free bright sunshine, in a world where\nthere is nothing to offend, and that the time of our deprivation will\nseem to have been well spent indeed, if it has left within us a\ncapacity permanently to enjoy love, holiness, justice, and all that is\ndelighted in by God Himself.\n\nThe use made of this event in the New Testament is remarkable. It is\ncompared by Peter to baptism, and both are viewed as illustrations of\nsalvation by destruction. The eight souls, he says, who were in the ark,\n\"were saved by water.\" The water which destroyed the rest saved them.\nWhen there seemed little hope of the godly line being able to withstand\nthe influence of the ungodly, the Flood came and left Noah's family in a\nnew world, with freedom to order all things according to their own\nideas. In this Peter sees some analogy to baptism. In baptism, the\npenitent who believes in the efficacy of Christ's blood to purge away\nsin, lets his defilement be washed away and rises new and clean to the\nlife Christ gives. In Christ the sinner finds shelter for himself and\ndestruction for his sins. It is God's wrath against sin that saves us by\ndestroying our sins; just as it was the Flood which devastated the\nworld, that at the same time, and thereby, saved Noah and his family.\n\nIn this event, too, we see the completeness of God's work. Often we feel\nreluctant to surrender our sinful habits to so final a destruction as is\nimplied in being one with Christ. The expense at which holiness is to be\nbought seems almost too great. So much that has given us pleasure must\nbe parted with; so many old ties sundered, a condition of holiness\npresents an aspect of dreariness and hopelessness; like the world after\nthe flood, not a moving thing on the surface of the earth, everything\nlevelled, prostrate, and washed even with the ground; here the corpse of\na man, there the carcase of a beast; here mighty forest timber swept\nprone like the rushes on the banks of a flooded stream, and there a city\nwithout inhabitants, everything dank, dismal and repellent. But this is\nonly one aspect of the work; the beginning, necessary if the work is to\nbe thorough. If any part of the sinful life remain it will spring up to\nmar what God means to introduce us to. Only that is to be preserved\nwhich we can take with us into our ark. Only that is to pass on into our\nlife which we can retain while we are in true connection with Christ,\nand which we think can help us to live as His friends, and to serve Him\nzealously.\n\nThis event then gives us some measure by which we can know how much God\nwill do to maintain holiness upon earth. In this catastrophe every one\nwho strives after godliness may find encouragement, seeing in it the\nDivine earnestness of God for good and against evil. There is only one\nother event in history that so conspicuously shows that holiness among\nmen is the object for which God will sacrifice everything else. There is\nno need now of any further demonstration of God's purpose in this world\nand His zeal for carrying it out. And may it not be expected of us His\nchildren, that we stand in presence of the cross until our cold and\nfrivolous hearts catch something of the earnestness, the \"resisting unto\nblood striving against sin,\" which is exhibited there? The Flood has not\nbeen forgotten by almost any people under heaven, but its moral result\nis _nil_. But he whose memory is haunted by a dying Redeemer, by the\nthought of One Whose love found its most appropriate and practical\nresult in dying for him, _is_ prevented from much sin, and finds in that\nlove the spring of eternal hope, that which his soul in the deep privacy\nof his most sacred thoughts can feed upon with joy, that which he builds\nhimself round and broods over as his inalienable possession.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\n_NOAH'S FALL._\n\nGENESIS ix. 20-27.\n\n\nNoah in the ark was in a position of present safety but of much anxiety.\nNo sign of any special protection on God's part was given. The waters\nseem to stand at their highest level still; and probably the risk of the\nark's grounding on some impracticable peak, or precipitous hill-side,\nwould seem as great a danger as the water itself. Five months had\nelapsed, and though the rain had ceased the sky was heavy and\nthreatening, and every day now was worth many measures of corn in the\ncoming harvest. A reflection of the anxiety within the ark is seen in\nthe expression, \"And God remembered Noah.\" It was needful to say so, for\nthere was as yet no outward sign of this.\n\nTo such anxieties all are subject who have availed themselves of the\nsalvation God provides. At the first there is an easy faith in God's\naid; there are many signs of His presence; the subjects in whom\nsalvation operates have no disposition or temptation to doubt that God\nis with them and is working for them. But this initial stage is\nsucceeded by a very different state of things. We seem to be left to\nourselves to cope with the world and all its difficulties and\ntemptations in our own strength. Much as we crave some sign that God\nremembers us, no sign is given. We no longer receive the same urgent\nimpulses to holiness of life; we have no longer the same freshness in\ndevotion as if speaking to a God at hand. There is nothing which of\nitself and without reasoning about it says to us, Here is God's hand\nupon me.\n\nIn fact, the great part of our life has to be spent under these\nconditions, and we need to hold some well-ascertained principle\nregarding God's dealings, if our faith is to survive. And here in God's\ntreatment of Noah we see that God may as certainly be working for us\nwhen not working directly upon us, as when His presence is palpable. His\nabsence from us is as needful as His presence. The clouds are as\nrequisite for our salvation as the sunny sky. When therefore we find\nthat salvation from sin is a much slower and more anxious matter than we\nonce expected it to be, we are not to suppose that God is not hearing\nour prayers. When Noah day by day cried to God for relief, and yet night\nafter night found himself \"cribb'd, cabin'd, and confined,\" with no sign\nfrom God but such as faith could apprehend, depend upon it he had very\ndifferent feelings from those with which he first stepped into the ark.\nAnd when we are left to one monotonous rut of duty and to an unchanging\nand dry form of devotion, when we are called to learn to live by faith\nnot by sight, to learn that God's purposes with us are spiritual, and\nthat slow and difficult growth in self-command and holiness is the best\nproof that He hears our prayers, we must strive to believe that this\nalso is a needful part of our salvation; and we must especially be on\nour guard against supposing that as God has ceased to disclose Himself\nto us, and so to make faith easy, we may cease to disclose ourselves to\nHim.\n\nFor this is the natural and very frequent result of such an experience.\nDiscouraged by the obscurity of God's ways and the difficulty of\nbelieving when the mind is not sustained by success or by new thoughts\nor manifest tokens of God's presence, we naturally cease to look for any\nclear signs of God's concernment about our state, and rest from all\nanxious craving to know God's will about us. To this temptation the\nmajority of Christian people yield, and allow themselves to become\nindifferent to spiritual truth and increasingly interested in the\nnon-mysterious facts of the present world, attending to present duties\nin a mechanical way, seeing that their families have enough to eat and\nthat all in their little ark are provided for. But to this temptation\nNoah did not yield. Though to all appearance abandoned by God, he did\nwhat he could to ascertain what was beyond his immediate sight and\npresent experience. He sent out his raven and his dove. Not satisfied\nwith his first enquiry by the raven, which could flit from one piece of\nfloating garbage to another, he sent out the dove, and continued to do\nso at intervals of seven days.\n\nNoah sent out the raven first, probably because it had been the most\ncompanionable bird and seemed the wisest, preferable to \"the silly\ndove;\" but it never came back with God's message. And so has one often\nfound that an enquiry into God's will, the examination, for example, of\nsome portion of Scripture, undertaken with a prospect of success and\nwith good human helps, has failed, and has failed in this peculiar\nravenlike way; the enquiry has settled down on some worthless point, on\nsome rotting carcase, on some subject of passing interest or worldly\nlearning, and brings back no message of God to us. On the other hand,\nthe continued use, Sabbath after Sabbath, of God's appointed means, and\nthe patient waiting for some message of God to come to us through what\nseems a most unlikely messenger, will often be rewarded. It may be but a\nsingle leaf plucked off that we get, but enough to convince us that God\nhas been mindful of our need, and is preparing for us a habitable world.\n\nMany a man is like the raven, feeding himself on the destruction of\nothers, satisfied with knowing how God has dealt with others. He thinks\nhe has done his part when he has found out who has been sinning and what\nhas been the result. But the dove will not settle on any such\nresting-place, and is dissatisfied until for herself she can pluck off\nsome token that God's anger is turned away and that now there is peace\non earth. And if only you wait God's time and renew your endeavours to\nfind such tokens, some assurance will be given you, some green and\ngrowing thing, some living part, however small, of the new creation\nwhich will certify you of your hope.\n\nOn the first day of the first month, New Year's day, Noah removed the\ncovering of the ark, which seems to have stranded on the Armenian\ntableland, and looked out upon the new world. He cannot but have felt\nhis responsibility, as a kind of second Adam. And many questionings must\nhave arisen in his mind regarding the relation of the new to the old.\nWas there to be any connection with the old world at all, or was all to\nbegin afresh? Were the promises, the traditions, the events, the\ngenealogies of the old world of any significance now? The Flood\ndistinctly marked the going out of one order of things and the\nestablishment of another. Man's career and development, or what we call\nhistory, had not before the Flood attained its goal. If this development\nwas not to be broken short off, and if God's purpose in creation was to\nbe fulfilled, then the world must still go on. Some worlds may perhaps\ndie young, as individuals die young. Others endure through hair-breadth\nescapes and constant dangers, find their way like our planet through\nshowers of fire, and pass without collision the orbits of huge bodies,\ncarrying with them always, as our world does, the materials of their\ndestruction within themselves. But catastrophes do not cut short, but\nevolve God's purposes. The Flood came that God's purpose might be\nfulfilled. The course of nature was interrupted, the arrangements of\nsocial and domestic life were overturned, all the works of men were\nswept away that this purpose might be fulfilled. It was expedient that\none generation should die for all generations; and this generation\nhaving been taken out of the way, fresh provision is made for the\nco-operation of man with God. On man's part there is an emphatic\nacknowledgment of God by sacrifice; on God's part there is a renewed\ngrant to man of the world and its fulness, a renewed assurance of His\nfavour.\n\nThis covenant with Noah was on the plane of nature. It is man's natural\nlife in the world which is the subject of it. The sacredness of life is\nits great lesson. Men might well wonder whether God did not hold life\ncheap. In the old world violence had prevailed. But while Lamech's sword\nmay have slain its thousands, God had in the Flood slain tens of\nthousands. The covenant, therefore, directs that human life must be\nreverenced. The primal blessing is renewed. Men are to multiply and\nreplenish the earth; and the slaughter of a man was to be reckoned a\ncapital crime; and the maintenance of life was guaranteed by a special\nclause, securing the regularity of the seasons. If, then, you ask, Was\nthis just a beginning again where Adam began? Did God just wipe out man\nas a boy wipes his slate clean, when he finds his calculation is turning\nout wrong? Had all these generations learned nothing; had the world not\ngrown at all since its birth?--the answer is, it had grown, and in two\nmost important respects,--it had come to the knowledge of the uniformity\nof nature, and the necessity of human law. This great departure from the\nuniformity of nature brought into strong relief its normal uniformity,\nand gave men their first lesson in the recognition of a God who governs\nby fixed laws. And they learned also from the Flood that wickedness must\nnot be allowed to grow unchecked and attain dimensions which nothing\nshort of a flood can cope with.\n\nFit symbol of this covenant was the rainbow. Seeming to unite heaven and\nearth, it pictured to those primitive people the friendliness existing\nbetween God and man. Many nations have looked upon it as not merely one\nof the most beautiful and striking objects in nature, but as the\nmessenger of heaven to men. And arching over the whole horizon, it\nexhibits the all-embracing universality of the promise. They accepted it\nas a sign that God has no pleasure in destruction, that He does not give\nway to moods, that He does not always chide, that if weeping may endure\nfor a night joy is sure to follow. If any one is under a cloud, leading\na joyless, hopeless, heartless life, if any one has much apparent reason\nto suppose that God has given him up to catastrophe, and lets things\nrun as they may, there is some satisfaction in reading this natural\nemblem and recognising that without the cloud, nay, without the cloud\nbreaking into heavy sweeping rains, there cannot be the bow, and that no\ncloud of God's sending is permanent, but will one day give place to\nunclouded joy. Let the prayer of David be yours, \"I know, O Lord, that\nThy judgments are right, and that Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted\nme. Let, I pray Thee, Thy merciful kindness be for my comfort according\nto Thy word unto Thy servant.\"\n\nIt may be felt that the matters about which God spoke to Noah were\nbarely religious, certainly not spiritual. But to take God as our God in\nany one particular is to take Him as our God for all. If we can eat our\ndaily bread as given to us by our Father in heaven, then we are heirs of\nthe righteousness which is by faith. It is because we wait for some\nwonderful and out-of-the-way proofs that God is keeping faith with us\nthat we so much lack a real and living faith. If you think of God only\nin connection with some spiritual difficulty, or if you are waiting for\nsome critical spiritual experience about which you may deal with\nGod,--if you are not transacting with Him about your daily work, about\nyour temporal wants and difficulties, about your friendships and your\ntastes, about that which makes up the bulk of your thought, feeling, and\naction, then you have yet to learn what living with God means. You have\nyet to learn that God the Infinite Creator of all is present in all your\nlife. We are not in advance of Noah, but behind him, if we cannot speak\nto God about common things.\n\nBesides, the relation of man to God was sufficiently determined by this\ncovenant. When any man in that age began to ask himself the question\nwhich all men in all ages ask, How shall I win the favour of God? it\nmust, or it might, at once have struck him, Why, God has already\nfavoured me and has bound Himself to me by express and solemn pledges.\nAnd radically this is all that any one needs to know. It is not a change\nin God's attitude towards you that is required. What is required is that\nyou believe what is actually the case, that the Holy God loves you\nalready and is already seeking to bless you by making you like Himself.\nBelieve that, and let the faith of it sink more and more deeply into\nyour spirit, and you will find that you are saved from your sin.\n\nWhat remains to be told of Noah is full of moral significance. Rare\nindeed is a _wholly_ good man; and happy indeed is he who throughout his\nyouth, his manhood, and his age lets principle govern all his actions.\nThe righteous and rescued Noah lying drunk on his tent-floor is a\nsorrowful spectacle. God had given him the earth, and this was the use\nhe made of the gift; melancholy presage of the fashion of his posterity.\nHe had God to help him to bear his responsibilities, to refresh and\ngladden him; but he preferred the fruit of his vineyard. Can the most\nsacred or impressive memories secure a man against sin? Noah had the\nmemory of a race drowned for sin and of a year in solitude with God. Can\nthe dignity and weight of responsibility steady a man? This man knew\nthat to him God had declared His purpose and that he only could carry it\nforward to fulfilment. In that heavy helpless figure, fallen insensible\nin his tent, is as significant a warning as in the Flood.\n\nNoah's sin brings before us two facts about sin. First, that the\nsmaller temptations are often the most effectual. The man who is\ninvulnerable on the field of battle amidst declared and strong enemies\nfalls an easy prey to the assassin in his own home. When all the world\nwas against him, Noah was able to face single-handed both scorn and\nviolence, but in the midst of his vineyard, among his own people who\nunderstood him and needed no preaching or proof of his virtue, he\nrelaxed.\n\nHe was no longer in circumstances so difficult as to force him to watch\nand pray, as to drive him to God's side. The temptations Noah had before\nknown were mainly from without; he now learnt that those from within are\nmore serious. Many of us find it comparatively easy to carry clean hands\nbefore the public, or to demean ourselves with tolerable seemliness in\ncircumstances where the temptation may be very strong but is also very\npatent; but how careless are we often in our domestic life, and how\nlittle strain do we put upon ourselves in the company of those whom we\ncan trust. What petulance and irritability, what angry and slanderous\nwords, what sensuality and indolence could our own homes witness to!\nNoah is not the only man who has walked uprightly and kept his garment\nunspotted from the world so long as the eye of man was on him, but who\nhas lain uncovered on his own tent-floor.\n\nSecondly, we see here how a man may fall into new forms of sin, and are\nreminded especially of one of the most distressing facts to be observed\nin the world, viz., that men in their prime and even in their old age\nare sometimes overtaken in sins of sensuality from which hitherto they\nhave kept themselves pure. We are very ready to think we know the full\nextent of wickedness to which we may go; that by certain sins _we_\nshall never be much tempted. And in some of our predictions we may be\ncorrect; our temperament or our circumstances may absolutely preclude\nsome sins from mastering us. Yet who has made but a slight alteration in\nhis circumstances, added a little to his business, made some new family\narrangements, or changed his residence, without being astonished to find\nhow many new sources of evil seem to have been opened within him? While\ntherefore you rejoice over sins defeated, beware of thinking your work\nis nearly done. Especially let those of us who have for years been\nfighting mainly against one sin beware of thinking that if only _that_\nwere defeated we should be free from sin. As a man who has long suffered\nfrom one bodily disease congratulates himself that at least he knows\nwhat he may expect in the way of pain, and will not suffer as some other\nman he has heard of does suffer; whereas though one disease may kill\nothers, yet some diseases only prepare the body for the assault of worse\nailments than themselves, and the constitution at last breaks up under a\ncombination of ills that make the sufferer a pity to his friends and a\nperplexity to his physicians. And so is it in the spirit; you cannot say\nthat because you are so consumed by one infirmity, others can find no\nroom in you. In short, there is nothing that can secure us against the\nunspeakable calamity of falling into new sins, except the direction\ngiven by our Lord, \"Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.\"\nThere _is need_ of watching, else this precept had never been uttered;\ntoo many things absolutely needful for us to do have to be enjoined upon\nus to leave any room for the injunction of precepts that are\nunnecessary, and he who is not watching has no security that he shall\nnot sin so as to be a scandal to his friends and a shame to himself.\n\nNoah's sin brought to light the character of his three sons--the coarse\nirreverence of Ham, the dignified delicacy and honour of Shem and\nJapheth. The bearing of men towards the sins of others is always a\ntouchstone of character. The full exposure of sin where good is expected\nto come of the exposure and when it is done with sorrow and with shame\nis one thing, and the exposure of sin to create a laugh and merely to\namuse is another. They are the true descendants of Ham, whether their\nfaces be black or white, and whether they go with no clothes or with\nclothes that are the product of much thought and anxiety, who find\npleasure in the mere contemplation of deeds of shame, in real life, on\nthe boards of the theatre, in daily journals, or in works of fiction.\nExtremes meet, and the savage grossness of Ham is found in many who\ncount themselves the last and finest product of culture. It is found\nalso in the harder and narrower set of modern investigators, who glory\nin exposing the scientific weakness of our forefathers, and make a jest\nof the mistakes of men to whom they owe much of their freedom, and whose\nshoe latchet they are not worthy to tie, so far as the deeper moral\nqualities go.\n\nBut neither is religious society free from this same sin. The faults and\nmistakes and sins of others are talked over, possibly with some show of\nregret, but with, as we know, very little real shame and sadness, for\nthese feelings prompt us, not to talk them over in companies where no\ngood can be done in the way of remedy, but to cover them as these\nsorrowing sons of Noah, with averted eye and humbled head. Charity is\nthe prime grace enjoined upon us and charity _covers_ a multitude of\nsins. And whatever excuses for exposing others we may make, however we\nmay say it is only a love of truth and fair play that makes us drag to\nlight the infirmities of a man whom others are praising, we may be very\nsure that if all _evil_ motives were absent this kind of evil speaking\nwould cease among us. But there is a malignity in sin that leaves its\nbitter root in us all, and causes us to be glad when those whom we have\nbeen regarding as our superiors are reduced to our poor level. And there\nis a cowardliness in sin which cannot bear to be alone, and eagerly\nhails every symptom of others being in the same condemnation.\n\nBefore exposing another, think first whether your own conduct could bear\na similar treatment, whether you have never done the thing you desire to\nconceal, said the thing you would blush to hear repeated, or thought the\nthought you could not bear another to read. And if you be a Christian,\ndoes it not become you to remember what you yourself have learnt of the\nslipperiness of this world's ways, of your liability to fall, of your\nsudden exposure to sin from some physical disorder, or some slight\nmistake which greatly extenuates your sin, but which you could not plead\nbefore another? And do you know nothing of the difficulty of conquering\none sin that is rooted in your constitution, and the strife that goes on\nin a man's own soul and in secret though he show little immediate fruit\nof it in his life before men? Surely it becomes us to give a man credit\nfor much good resolution and much sore self-denial and endeavour, even\nwhen he fails and sins still, because such we know to be our own case,\nand if we disbelieve in others until they can walk with perfect\nrectitude, if we condemn them for one or two flaws and blemishes, we\nshall be tempted to show the same want of charity towards ourselves, and\nfall at length into that miserable and hopeless condition that believes\nin no regenerating spirit nor in any holiness attainable by us.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\n_THE CALL OF ABRAHAM._\n\nGENESIS xi. 27-xii. 5.\n\n\nWith Abraham there opens a new chapter in the history of the race; a\nchapter of the profoundest significance. The consequences of Abraham's\nmovements and beliefs have been limitless and enduring. All succeeding\ntime has been influenced by him. And yet there is in his life a\nremarkable simplicity, and an entire absence of such events as impress\ncontemporaries. Among all the forgotten millions of his own time he\nstands alone a recognisable and memorable figure. But around his figure\nthere gathers no throng of armed followers; with his name, no vast\nterritorial dominion, no new legislation, not even any work of\nliterature or art is associated. The significance of his life was not\nmilitary, nor legislative, nor literary, but religious. To him must be\ncarried back the belief in one God. We find him born and brought up\namong idolaters; and although it is certain there were others besides\nhimself who here and there upon earth had dimly arrived at the same\nbelief as he, yet it is certainly from him the Monotheistic belief has\nbeen diffused. Since his day the world has never been without its\nexplicit advocacy. It is his belief in the true God, in a God who\nmanifested His existence and His nature by responding to this belief,\nit is this belief and the place he gave it as the regulating principle\nof all his movements and thoughts, that have given him his everlasting\ninfluence.\n\nWith Abraham there is also introduced the first step in a new method\nadopted by God in the training of men. The dispersion of men and the\ndivergence of their languages are now seen to have been the necessary\npreliminary to this new step in the education of the world--the fencing\nround of one people till they should learn to know God and understand\nand exemplify His government. It is true, God reveals Himself to all men\nand governs all; but by selecting one race with special adaptations, and\nby giving to it a special training, God might more securely and more\nrapidly reveal Himself to all. Each nation has certain characteristics,\na national character which grows by seclusion from the influences which\nare forming other races. There is a certain mental and moral\nindividuality stamped upon every separate people. Nothing is more\ncertainly retained; nothing more certainly handed down from generation\nto generation. It would therefore be a good practical means of\nconserving and deepening the knowledge of God, if it were made the\nnational interest of a people to preserve it, and if it were closely\nidentified with the national characteristics. This was the method\nadopted by God. He meant to combine allegiance to Himself with national\nadvantages, and spiritual with national character, and separation in\nbelief with a distinctly outlined and defensible territory.\n\nThis method, in common with all Divine methods, was in strict keeping\nwith the natural evolution of history. The migration of Abraham occurred\nin the epoch of migrations. But although for centuries before Abraham\nnew nations had been forming, none of them had belief in God as its\nformative principle. Wave upon wave of warriors, shepherds, colonists\nhave left the prolific plains of Mesopotamia. Swarm after swarm has left\nthat busy hive, pushing one another further and further west and east,\nbut all have been urged by natural impulses, by hunger, commerce, love\nof adventure and conquest. By natural likings and dislikings, by policy,\nand by dint of force the multitudinous tribes of men were finding their\nplaces in the world, the weaker being driven to the hills, and being\nschooled there by hard living till their descendants came down and\nconquered their conquerors. All this went on without regard to any very\nhigh motives. As it was with the Goths who invaded Italy for her wealth,\nas it is now with those who people America and Africa because there is\nland or room enough, so it was then. But at last God selects one man and\nsays, \"_I_ will make of thee a great nation.\" The origin of this nation\nis not facile love of change nor lust of territory, but belief in God.\nWithout this belief this people had not been. No other account can be\ngiven of its origin. Abraham is himself already the member of a tribe,\nwell-off and likely to be well-off; he has no large family to provide\nfor, but he is separated from his kindred and country, and led out to be\nhimself a new beginning, and this because, as he himself throughout his\nlife said, he heard God's call and responded to it.\n\nThe city which claims the distinction of being Abraham's birthplace, or\nat least of giving its name to the district where he was born, is now\nrepresented by a few mounds of ruins rising out of the flat marshy\nground on the western bank of the Euphrates, not far above the point\nwhere it joins its waters to those of the Tigris and glides on to the\nPersian gulf. In the time of Abraham, Ur was the capital city which gave\nits name to one of the most populous and fertile regions of the earth.\nThe whole land of Accad which ran up from the sea-coast to Upper\nMesopotamia (or Shinar) seems to have been known as Ur-ma, the land of\nUr. This land was of no great extent, being little if at all larger than\nScotland, but it was the richest of Asia. The high civilisation which\nthis land enjoyed even in the time of Abraham has been disclosed in the\nabundant and multifarious Babylonian remains which have recently been\nbrought to light.\n\nWhat induced Terah to abandon so prosperous a land can only be\nconjectured. It is possible that the idolatrous customs of the\ninhabitants may have had something to do with his movements. For while\nthe ancient Babylonian records reveal a civilisation surprisingly\nadvanced, and a social order in some respects admirable, they also make\ndisclosures regarding the worship of the gods which must shock even\nthose who are familiar with the immoralities frequently fostered by\nheathen religions. The city of Ur was not only the capital, it was the\nholy city of the Chaldeans. In its northern quarter rose high above the\nsurrounding buildings the successive stages of the temple of the\nmoon-god, culminating in a platform on which the priests could both\naccurately observe the motions of the stars and hold their night-watches\nin honour of their god. In the courts of this temple might be heard\nbreaking the silence of midnight, one of those magnificent hymns, still\npreserved, in which idolatry is seen in its most attractive dress, and\nin which the Lord of Ur is invoked in terms not unworthy of the living\nGod. But in these same temple-courts Abraham may have seen the\nfirstborn led to the altar, the fruit of the body sacrificed to atone\nfor the sin of the soul; and here too he must have seen other sights\neven more shocking and repulsive. Here he was no doubt taught that\nstrangely mixed religion which clung for generations to some members of\nhis family. Certainly he was taught in common with the whole community\nto rest on the seventh day; as he was trained to look to the stars with\nreverence and to the moon as something more than the light which was set\nto rule the night.\n\nPossibly then Terah may have been induced to move northwards by a desire\nto shake himself free from customs he disapproved. The Hebrews\nthemselves seem always to have considered that his migration had a\nreligious motive. \"This people,\" says one of their old writings, \"is\ndescended from the Chaldeans, and they sojourned heretofore in\nMesopotamia because they would not follow the gods of their fathers\nwhich were in the land of Chaldea. For they left the way of their\nancestors and worshipped the God of heaven, the God whom they knew; so\nthey cast them out from the face of their gods, and they fled into\nMesopotamia and sojourned there many days. Then their God commanded them\nto depart from the place where they sojourned and to go into the land of\nCanaan.\" But if this is a true account of the origin of the movement\nnorthwards, it must have been Abraham rather than his father who was the\nmoving spirit of it; for it is certainly Abraham and not Terah who\nstands as the significant figure inaugurating the new era.\n\nIf doubt rests on the moving cause of the migration from Ur, none rests\non that which prompted Abraham to leave Charran and journey towards\nCanaan. He did so in obedience to what he believed to be a Divine\ncommand, and in faith on what he understood to be a Divine promise. How\nhe became aware that a Divine command thus lay upon him we do not know.\nNothing could persuade him that he was not commanded. Day by day he\nheard in his soul what he recognised as a Divine voice, saying: \"Get\nthee out of thy country and from thy kindred and from thy father's\nhouse, unto a land that I will show thee!\" This was God's first\nrevelation of Himself to Abraham. Up to this time Abraham to all\nappearance had no knowledge of any God but the deities worshipped by his\nfathers in Chaldea. Now, he finds within himself impulses which he\ncannot resist and which he is conscious he ought not to resist. He\nbelieves it to be his duty to adopt a course which may look foolish and\nwhich he can justify only by saying that his conscience bids him. He\nrecognises, apparently for the first time, that through his conscience\nthere speaks to him a God Who is supreme. In dependence on this God he\ngathered his possessions together and departed.\n\nSo far, one may be tempted to say, no very unusual faith was required.\nMany a poor girl has followed a weakly brother or a dissipated father to\nAustralia or the wild west of America; many a lad has gone to the deadly\nwest coast of Africa with no such prospects as Abraham. For Abraham had\nthe double prospect which makes migration desirable. Assure the colonist\nthat he will find land and have strong sons to till and hold and leave\nit to, and you give him all the motive he requires. These were the\npromises made to Abraham--a land and a seed. Neither was there at this\nperiod much difficulty in believing that both promises would be\nfulfilled. The land he no doubt expected to find in some unoccupied\nterritory. And as regards the children, he had not yet faced the\ncondition that only through Sarah was this part of the promise to be\nfulfilled.\n\nBut the peculiarity in Abraham's abandonment of present certainties for\nthe sake of a future and unseen good is, that it was prompted not by\nfamily affection or greed or an adventurous disposition, but by faith in\na God Whom no one but himself recognised. It was the first step in a\nlife-long adherence to an Invisible, Spiritual Supreme. It was that\nfirst step which committed him to life-long dependence upon and\nintercourse with One Who had authority to regulate his movements and\npower to bless him. From this time forth all that he sought in life was\nthe fulfilment of God's promise. He staked his future upon God's\nexistence and faithfulness. Had Abraham abandoned Charran at the command\nof a widely ruling monarch who promised him ample compensation, no\nrecord would have been made of so ordinary a transaction. But this was\nan entirely new thing and well worth recording, that a man should leave\ncountry and kindred and seek an unknown land under the impression that\nthus he was obeying the command of the unseen God. While others\nworshipped sun, moon, and stars, and recognised the Divine in their\nbrilliance and power, in their exaltation above earth and control of\nearth and its life, Abraham saw that there was something greater than\nthe order of nature and more worthy of worship, even the still small\nvoice that spoke within his own conscience of right and wrong in human\nconduct, and that told him how his own life must be ordered. While all\naround him were bowing down to the heavenly host and sacrificing to them\nthe highest things in human nature, he heard a voice falling from these\nshining ministers of God's will, which said to him, \"See thou do it not,\nfor we are thy fellow-servants; worship thou God!\" This was the triumph\nof the spiritual over the material; the acknowledgment that in God there\nis something greater than can be found in nature; that man finds his\ntrue affinity not in the things that are seen but in the unseen Spirit\nthat is over all. It is this that gives to the figure of Abraham its\nsimple grandeur and its permanent significance.\n\nUnder the simple statement \"The Lord said unto Abram, Get thee out of\nthy country,\" there are probably hidden years of questioning and\nmeditation. God's revelation of Himself to Abram in all probability did\nnot take the determinate form of articulate command without having\npassed through many preliminary stages of surmise and doubt and mental\nconflict. But once assured that God is calling him, Abraham responds\nquickly and resolutely. The revelation has come to a mind in which it\nwill not be lost. As one of the few theologians who have paid attention\nto the method of revelation has said: \"A Divine revelation does not\ndispense with a certain character and certain qualities of mind in the\nperson who is the instrument of it. A man who throws off the chains of\nauthority and association must be a man of extraordinary independence\nand strength of mind, although he does so in obedience to a Divine\nrevelation; because no miracle, no sign or wonder which accompanies a\nrevelation can by its simple stroke force human nature from the innate\nhold of custom and the adhesion to and fear of established opinion; can\nenable it to confront the frowns of men, and take up truth opposed to\ngeneral prejudice, except there is in the man himself, who is the\nrecipient of the revelation, a certain strength of mind and\nindependence which concurs with the Divine intention.\"\n\nThat Abraham's faith triumphed over exceptional difficulties and enabled\nhim to do what no other motive would have been strong enough to\naccomplish, there is therefore no call to assert. During his after-life\nhis faith was severely tried, but the mere abandonment of his country in\nthe hope of gaining a better was the ordinary motive of his day. It was\nthe _ground_ of this hope, the belief in God, which made Abraham's\nconduct original and fruitful. That sufficient inducement was presented\nto him is only to say that God is reasonable. There is always sufficient\ninducement to obey God; because life is reasonable. No man was ever\ncommanded or required to do anything which it was not for his advantage\nto do. Sin is a mistake. But so weak are we, so liable to be moved by\nthe things present to us and by the desire for immediate gratification,\nthat it never ceases to be wonderful and admirable when a sense of duty\nenables a man to forego present advantage and to believe that present\nloss is the needful preliminary of eternal gain.\n\nAbraham's faith is chosen by the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews as\nan apt illustration of his definition of Faith, that it is \"the\nsubstance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.\" One\nproperty of faith is that it gives to things future and which are as yet\nonly hoped for all the reality of actual present existence. Future\nthings may be said to have no existence for those who do not believe in\nthem. They are not taken into account. Men do not shape their conduct\nwith any reference to them. But when a man believes in certain events\nthat are to be, this faith of his lends to these future things the\nreality, the \"substance\" which things actually existing in the present\nhave. They have the same weight with him, the same influence upon his\nconduct.\n\nWithout some power to realize the future and to take account of what is\nto be as well as of what already is, we could not carry on the common\naffairs of life. And success in life very greatly depends on foresight,\nor the power to see clearly what is to be and give it due weight. The\nman who has no foresight makes his plans, but being unable to apprehend\nthe future his plans are disconcerted. Indeed it is one of the most\nvaluable gifts a man can have, to be able to say with tolerable accuracy\nwhat is to happen and what is not; to be able to sift rumours, common\ntalk, popular impressions, probabilities, chances, and to be able to\nfeel sure what the future will really be; to be able to weigh the\ncharacter and commercial prospects of the men he deals with, so as to\nsee what must be the issue of their operations and whom he may trust.\nMany of our most serious mistakes in life arise from our inability to\nimagine the consequences of our actions and to forefeel how these\nconsequences will affect us.\n\nNow faith largely supplies the want of this imaginative foresight. It\nlends substance to things future. It believes the account given of the\nfuture by a trustworthy authority. In many ordinary matters all men are\ndependent on the testimony of others for their knowledge of the result\nof certain operations. The astronomer, the physiologist, the navigator,\neach has his department within which his predictions are accepted as\nauthoritative. But for what is beyond the ken of science no faith in our\nfellow-men avails. Feeling that if there is a life beyond the grave, it\nmust have important bearings on the present, we have yet no data by\nwhich to calculate what will then be, or only data so difficult to use\nthat our calculations are but guesswork. But faith accepts the testimony\nof God as unhesitatingly as that of man and gives reality to the future\nHe describes and promises. It believes that the life God calls us to is\na better life, and it enters upon it. It believes that there is a world\nto come in which all things are new and all things eternal; and, so\nbelieving, it cannot but feel less anxious to cling to this world's\ngoods. That which embitters all loss and deepens sorrow is the feeling\nthat this world is all; but faith makes eternity as real as time and\ngives substantial existence to that new and limitless future in which we\nshall have time to forget the sorrows and live past the losses of this\npresent world.\n\nThe radical elements of greatness are identical from age to age, and the\nprimal duties which no good man can evade do not vary as the world grows\nolder. What we admire in Abraham we feel to be incumbent on ourselves.\nIndeed the uniform call of Christ to all His followers is even in form\nalmost identical with that which stirred Abraham, and made him the\nfather of the faithful. \"Follow Me,\" says our Lord, \"and every one that\nforsaketh houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or\nwife, or children, or lands, for My name's sake, shall receive an\nhundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.\" And there is something\nperennially edifying in the spectacle of a man who believes that God has\na place and a use for him in the world, and who puts himself at God's\ndisposal; who enters upon life refusing to be bound by the circumstances\nof his upbringing, by the expectations of his friends, by prevailing\ncustoms, by prospect of gain and advancement among men; and resolved to\nlisten to the highest voice of all, to discover what God has for him to\ndo upon earth and where he is likely to find most of God; who virtually\nand with deepest sincerity says, Let God choose my destination: I have\ngood land here, but if God wishes me elsewhere, elsewhere I go: who, in\none word, believes in the call of God to himself, who admits it into the\nsprings of his conduct, and recognises that for him also the highest\nlife his conscience can suggest is the only life he can live, no matter\nhow cumbrous and troublesome and expensive be the changes involved in\nentering it. Let the spectacle take hold of your imagination--the\nspectacle of a man believing that there is something more akin to\nhimself and higher than the material life and the great laws that govern\nit, and going calmly and hopefully forward into the unknown, because he\nknows that God is with him, that in God is our true life, that man\nliveth not by bread only, but by every word that cometh out of the mouth\nof God.\n\nEven thus then may we bring our faith to a true and reliable test. All\nmen who have a confident expectation of future good make sacrifices or\nrun risks to obtain it. Mercantile life proceeds on the understanding\nthat such ventures are reasonable and will always be made. Men might if\nthey liked spend their money on present pleasure, but they rarely do so.\nThey prefer to put it into concerns or transactions from which they\nexpect to reap large returns. They have faith and as a necessary\nconsequence they make ventures. So did these Hebrews--they ran a great\nrisk, they gave up the sole means of livelihood they had any experience\nof and entered what they knew to be a bare desert, because they believed\nin the land that lay beyond and in God's promise. What then has your\nfaith done? What have you ventured that you would not have ventured but\nfor God's promise? Suppose Christ's promise failed, in what would you be\nthe losers? Of course you would lose what you call your hope of\nheaven--but what would you find you had lost in this world? When a\nmerchant's ships are wrecked or when his investment turns out bad, he\nloses not only the gain he hoped for, but the means he risked. Suppose\nthen Christ were declared bankrupt, unable to fulfil your expectations,\nwould you really find that you had ventured so much upon His promise\nthat you are deeply involved in His bankruptcy, and are much worse off\nin this world and now than you would otherwise have been? Or may I not\nuse the words of one of the most cautious and charitable of men, and\nsay, \"I really fear, when we come to examine, it will be found that\nthere is nothing we resolve, nothing we do, nothing we do not do,\nnothing we avoid, nothing we choose, nothing we give up, nothing we\npursue, which we should not resolve, and do, and not do, and avoid, and\nchoose, and give up, and pursue, if Christ had not died and heaven were\nnot promised us.\" If this be the case--if you would be neither much\nbetter nor much worse though Christianity were a fable--if you have in\nnothing become poorer in this world that your reward in heaven may be\ngreater, if you have made no investments and run no risks, then really\nthe natural inference is that your faith in the future inheritance is\nsmall. Barnabas sold his Cyprus property because he believed heaven was\nhis, and his bit of land suddenly became a small consideration; useful\nonly in so far as he could with the mammon of unrighteousness make\nhimself a mansion in heaven. Paul gave up his prospects of advancement\nin the nation, of which he would of course as certainly have become the\nleader and first man as he took that position in the Church, and plainly\ntells us that having made so large a venture on Christ's word, he would\nif this word failed be a great loser, of all men most miserable because\nhe had risked his all _in this life_ on it. People sometimes take\noffence at Paul's plain way of speaking of the sacrifices he had made,\nand of Peter's plain way of saying \"we have left all and followed Thee,\nwhat shall we have therefore?\" but when people have made sacrifices they\nknow it and can specify them, and a faith that makes no sacrifices is no\ngood either in this world's affairs or in religion. Self-consciousness\nmay not be a very good thing: but self-deception is a worse.\n\nHere as elsewhere a clear hope sprang from faith. Recognising God,\nAbraham knew that there was for men a great future. He looked forward to\na time when all men should believe as he did, and in him all families of\nthe earth be blessed. No doubt in these early days when all men were on\nthe move and striving to make a name and a place for themselves, an\nonward look might be common. But the far-reaching extent, the certainty,\nand the definiteness of Abraham's view of the future were unexampled.\nThere far back in the hazy dawn he stood while the morning mists hid the\nhorizon from every other eye, and he alone discerns what is to be. One\nclear voice and one only rings out in unfaltering tones and from amidst\nthe babel of voices that utter either amazing follies or misdirected\nyearnings, gives the one true forecast and direction--the one living\nword which has separated itself from and survived all the\nprognostications of Chaldean sooth-sayers and priests of Ur, because it\nhas never ceased to give life to men. It has created for itself a\nchannel and you can trace it through the centuries by the living green\nof its banks and the life it gives as it goes. For this hope of Abraham\nhas been fulfilled; the creed and its accompanying blessing which that\nday lived in the heart of one man only has brought blessing to all the\nfamilies of the earth.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\n_ABRAM IN EGYPT._\n\nGENESIS xii. 6-20.\n\n\nAbram still journeying southward and not as yet knowing where his\nshifting camp was finally to be pitched, came at last to what may be\ncalled the heart of Palestine, the rich district of Shechem. Here stood\nthe oak of Moreh, a well-known landmark and favourite meeting-place. In\nafter years every meadow in this plain was owned and occupied, every\nvineyard on the slopes of Ebal fenced off, every square yard specified\nin some title-deed. But as yet the country seems not to have been\ndensely populated. There was room for a caravan like Abram's to move\nfreely through the country, liberty for a far-stretching encampment such\nas his to occupy the lovely vale that lies between Ebal and Gerizim. As\nhe rested here and enjoyed the abundant pasture, or as he viewed the\nland from one of the neighbouring hills, the Lord appeared to him and\nmade him aware that this was the land designed for him. Here accordingly\nunder the spreading oak round whose boughs had often clung the smoke of\nidolatrous sacrifice, Abram erects an altar to the living God in devout\nacceptance of the gift, taking possession as it were of the land jointly\nfor God and for himself. Little harm will come of worldly possessions so\ntaken and so held.\n\nAs Abram traversed the land, wondering what were the limits of his\ninheritance, it may have seemed far too large for his household. Soon he\nexperiences a difficulty of quite the opposite kind; he is unable to\nfind in it sustenance for his followers. Any notion that God's\nfriendship would raise him above the touch of such troubles as were\nincident to the times, places, and circumstances in which his life was\nto be spent, is quickly dispelled. The children of God are not exempt\nfrom any of the common calamities; they are only expected and aided to\nbe calmer and wiser in their endurance and use of them. That we suffer\nthe same hardships as all other men is no proof that we are not\neternally associated with God, and ought never to persuade us our faith\nhas been in vain.\n\nAbram, as he looked at the bare, brown, cracked pastures and at the dry\nwatercourses filled only with stones, thought of the ever-fresh plains\nof Mesopotamia, the lovely gardens of Damascus, the rich pasturage of\nthe northern borders of Canaan; but he knew enough of his own heart to\nmake him very careful lest these remembrances should make him turn back.\nNo doubt he had come to the promised land expecting it to be the real\nUtopia, the Paradise which had haunted his thoughts as he lay among the\nhills of Ur watching his flocks under the brilliant midnight sky. No\ndoubt he expected that here all would be easy and bright, peaceful and\nluxurious. His first experience is of famine. He has to look on his herd\nmelting away, his favourite cattle losing their appearance, his servants\nmurmuring and obliged to scatter. In his dreams he must have night after\nnight seen the old country, the green breadth of the land that Euphrates\nwatered, the heavy headed corn bending before the warm airs of his\nnative land; but morning by morning he wakes to the same anxieties, to\nthe sad reality of parched and burnt-up pastures, shepherds hanging\nabout with gloomy looks, his own heart distressed and failing. He was\nalso a stranger here who could not look for the help an old resident\nmight have counted on. It was probably years since God had made any sign\nto him. Was the promised land worth having after all? Might he not be\nbetter off among his old friends in Charran? Should he not brave their\nridicule and return? He will not so much as make it possible to return.\nHe will not even for temporary relief go north towards his old country,\nbut will go to Egypt, where he cannot stay, and from which he must\nreturn to Canaan.\n\nHere, then, is a man who plainly believes that God's promise cannot\nfail; that God will magnify His promise, and that it above all else is\nworth waiting for. He believes that the man who seeks without flinching\nand through all disappointment and bareness to do God's will, shall one\nday have an abundantly satisfying reward, and that meanwhile association\nwith God in carrying forward His abiding purposes with men is more for a\nman to live upon than the cattle upon a thousand hills. And thus famine\nrendered to Abram no small service if it quickened within him the\nconsciousness that the call of God was not to ease and prosperity, to\nland-owning and cattle-breeding, but to be God's agent on earth for the\nfulfilment of remote but magnificent purposes. His life might seem to be\ndown among the commonplace vicissitudes, pasture might fail, and his\nwell-stocked camp melt away, but out of his mind there could not fade\nthe future God had revealed to him. If it had been his ambition to give\nhis name to a tribe and be known as a wide-ruling chief, that ambition\nis now eclipsed by his desire to be a step towards the fulfilment of\nthat real end for which the whole world is. The belief that God has\ncalled him to do His work has lifted him above concern about personal\nmatters; life has taken a new meaning in his eyes by its connection with\nthe Eternal.\n\nThe extraordinary country to which Abram betook himself, and which was\ndestined to exercise so profound an influence on his descendants, had\neven at this early date attained a high degree of civilisation. The\norigin of this civilisation is shrouded in obscurity, as the source of\nthe great river to which the country owes its prosperity for many\ncenturies kept the secret of its birth. As yet scholars are unable to\ntell us with certainty what Pharaoh was on the throne when Abram went\ndown into Egypt. The monuments have preserved the effigies of two\ndistinct types of rulers; the one simple, kindly, sensible, stately,\nhandsome, fearless, as of men long accustomed to the throne. These are\nthe faces of the native Egyptian rulers. The other type of face is heavy\nand massive, proud and strong but full of care, with neither the\nhandsome features nor the look of kindliness and culture which belong to\nthe other. These are the faces of the famous Shepherd kings who held\nEgypt in subjection, probably at the very time when Abram was in the\nland.\n\nFor our purposes it matters little whether Abram's visit occurred while\nthe country was under native or under foreign rule, for long before the\nShepherd kings entered Egypt it enjoyed a complete and stable\ncivilisation. Whatever dynasty Abram found on the throne, he certainly\nfound among the people a more refined social life than he had seen in\nhis native city, a much purer religion, and a much more highly developed\nmoral code. He must have kept himself entirely aloof from Egyptian\nsociety if he failed to discover that they believed in a judgment after\ndeath, and that this judgment proceeded upon a severe moral code. Before\nadmission into the Egyptian heaven the deceased must swear that \"he has\nnot stolen nor slain any one intentionally; that he has not allowed his\ndevotions to be seen; that he has not been guilty of hypocrisy or lying;\nthat he has not calumniated any one nor fallen into drunkenness or\nadultery; that he has not turned away his ear from the words of truth;\nthat he has been no idle talker; that he has not slighted the king or\nhis father.\" To a man in Abram's state of mind the Egyptian creed and\ncustoms must have conveyed many valuable suggestions.\n\nBut virtuous as in many respects the Egyptians were, Abram's fears as he\napproached their country were by no means groundless. The event proved\nthat whatever Sarah's age and appearance at this time were, his fears\nwere something more than the fruit of a husband's partiality. Possibly\nhe may have heard the ugly story which has recently been deciphered from\nan old papyrus, and which tells how one of the Pharaohs, acting on the\nadvice of his princes, sent armed men to fetch a beautiful woman and\nmake away with her husband. But knowing the risk he ran, why did he go?\nHe contemplated the possibility of Sarah's being taken from him; but, if\nthis should happen, what became of the promised seed? We cannot suppose\nthat, driven by famine from the promised land, he had lost all hope\nregarding the fulfilment of the other part of the promise. Probably his\nidea was that some of the great men might take a fancy to Sarah, and\nthat he would so temporise with them and ask for her such large gifts as\nwould hold them off for a while until he could provide for his people\nand get clear out of the land. It had not occurred to him that she might\nbe taken to the palace. Whatever his idea of the probable course of\nevents was, his proposal to guide them by disguising his true\nrelationship to Sarah was unjustifiable. And his feelings during these\nweeks in Egypt must have been far from enviable as he learned that of\nall virtues the Egyptians set greatest store by truth, and that lying\nwas the vice they held in greatest abhorrence.\n\nHere then was the whole promise and purpose of God in a most precarious\nposition; the land abandoned, the mother of the promised seed in a harem\nthrough whose guards no force on earth could penetrate. Abram could do\nnothing but go helplessly about, thinking what a fool he had been, and\nwishing himself well back among the parched hills of Bethel. Suddenly\nthere is a panic in the royal household; and Pharaoh is made aware that\nhe was on the brink of what he himself considered a great sin. Besides\neffecting its immediate purpose, this visitation might have taught\nPharaoh that a man cannot safely sin within limits prescribed by\nhimself. He had not intended such evil as he found himself just saved\nfrom committing. But had he lived with perfect purity, this liability to\nfall into transgression, shocking to himself, could not have existed.\nMany sins of most painful consequence we commit, not of deliberate\npurpose, but because our previous life has been careless and lacking in\nmoral tone. We are mistaken if we suppose that we can sin within a\ncertain safe circle and never go beyond it.\n\nBy this intervention on God's part Abram was saved from the consequences\nof his own scheme, but he was not saved from the indignant rebuke of the\nEgyptian monarch. This rebuke indeed did not prevent him from a\nrepetition of the same conduct in another country, conduct which was met\nwith similar indignation: \"What have I offended thee, that thou hast\nbrought on me and on my kingdom this great sin? Thou hast done deeds\nunto me that ought not to be done. What sawest thou that thou hast done\nthis thing?\" This rebuke did not seem to sink deeply into the conscience\nof Abram's descendants, for the Jewish history is full of instances in\nwhich leading men do not shrink from man[oe]uvre, deceit and lying. Yet\nit is impossible to suppose that Abram's conception of God was not\nvastly enlarged by this incident, and this especially in two\nparticulars.\n\n(1) Abram must have received a new impression regarding God's truth. It\nwould seem that as yet he had no very clear idea of God's holiness. He\nhad the idea of God which Mohammedans entertain, and past which they\nseem unable to get. He conceived of God as the Supreme Ruler; he had a\nfirm belief in the unity of God and probably a hatred of idolatry and a\nprofound contempt for idolaters. He believed that this Supreme God could\nalways and easily accomplish His will, and that the voice that inwardly\nguided him was the voice of God. His own character had not yet been\ndeepened and dignified by prolonged intercourse with God and by close\nobservation of His actual ways; and so as yet he knows little of what\nconstitutes the true glory of God.\n\nFor learning that truth is an essential attribute of God he could not\nhave gone to a better school than Egypt. His own reliance on God's\npromise might have been expected to produce in him a high esteem for\ntruth and a clear recognition of its essential place in the Divine\ncharacter. Apparently it had only partially had this effect. The\nheathen, therefore, must teach him. Had not Abram seen the look of\nindignation and injury on the face of Pharaoh, he might have left the\nland feeling that his scheme had succeeded admirably. But as he went at\nthe head of his vastly increased household, the envy of many who saw his\nlong train of camels and cattle, he would have given up all could he\nhave blotted from his mind's eye the reproachful face of Pharaoh and\nnipped out this entire episode from his life. He was humbled both by his\nfalseness and his foolishness. He had told a lie, and told it when truth\nwould have served him better. For the very precaution he took in passing\noff Sarai as his sister was precisely what encouraged Pharaoh to take\nher, and produced the whole misadventure. It was the heathen monarch who\ntaught the father of the faithful his first lesson in God's holiness.\n\nWhat he so painfully learned we must all learn, that God does not need\nlying for the attainment of His ends, and that double-dealing is always\nshort-sighted and the proper precursor of shame. Frequently men are\ntempted like Abram to seek a God-protected and God-prospered life by\nconduct that is not thoroughly straightforward. Some of us who statedly\nask God to bless our endeavours, and who have no doubt that God approves\nthe ends we seek to accomplish, do yet adopt such means of attaining our\nends as not even men with any high sense of honour would countenance. To\nsave ourselves from trouble, inconvenience, or danger, we are tempted to\nevasions and shifts which are not free from guilt. The more one sees of\nlife, the higher value does he set on truth. Let lying be called by\nwhatever flattering title men please--let it pass for diplomacy,\nsmartness, self-defence, policy, or civility--it remains the device of\nthe coward, the absolute bar to free and healthy intercourse, a vice\nwhich diffuses itself through the whole character and makes growth\nimpossible. Trade and commerce are always hampered and retarded, and\noften overwhelmed in disaster, by the determined and deliberate\ndoubleness of those who engage in them; charity is minimised and\nwithheld from its proper objects by the suspiciousness engendered in us\nby the almost universal falseness of men; and the habit of making things\nseem to others what they are not, reacts upon the man himself and makes\nit difficult for him to feel the abiding effective reality of anything\nhe has to do with or even of his own soul. If then we are to know the\nliving and true God we must ourselves be true, transparent, and living\nin the light as He is the Light. If we are to reach His ends we must\nadopt His means and abjure all crafty contrivances of our own. If we are\nto be His heirs and partners in the work of the world, we must first be\nHis children, and show that we have attained our majority by manifesting\nan indubitable resemblance to His own clear truth.\n\n(2) But whether Abram fully learned this lesson or not, there can be\nlittle doubt that at this time he did receive fresh and abiding\nimpressions of God's faithfulness and sufficiency. In Abram's first\nresponse to God's call he exhibited a remarkable independence and\nstrength of character. His abandonment of home and kindred on account of\na religious faith which he alone possessed, was the act of a man who\nrelied much more on himself than on others and who had the courage of\nhis convictions. This qualification for playing a great part in human\naffairs he undoubtedly had. But he had also the defects of his\nqualities. A weaker man would have shrunk from going into Egypt and\nwould have preferred to see his flocks dwindle rather than take so\nventuresome a step. No such hesitations could trammel Abram's\nmovements. He felt himself equal to all occasions. That part of his\ncharacter which was reproduced in his grandson Jacob, a readiness to\nrise to every emergency that called for management and diplomacy, an\naptitude for dealing with men and using them for his purposes--this came\nto the front now! To all the timorous suggestions of his household he\nhad one reply: Leave it all to me; I will bring you through. So he\nentered Egypt confident that single-handed he could cope with their\nPharaohs, priests, magicians, guards, judges, warriors; and find his way\nthrough the finely-meshed net that held and examined every person and\naction in the land.\n\nHe left Egypt in a much more healthy state of mind, practically\nconvinced of his own inability to work his way to the happiness God had\npromised him, and equally convinced of God's faithfulness and power to\nbring him through all the embarrassments and disasters into which his\nown folly and sin might bring him. His own confidence and management had\nplaced God's promise in a position of extreme hazard; and without the\nintervention of God Abram saw that he could neither recover the mother\nof the promised seed nor return to the land of promise. Abram is put to\nshame even in the eyes of his household slaves; and with what burning\nshame must he have stood before Sarai and Pharaoh, and received back his\nwife from him whose wickedness he had feared, but who so far from\nmeaning to sin as Abram suspected, was indignant that Abram should have\nmade it even possible. He returned to Canaan humbled and very little\ndisposed to feel confident in his own powers of managing in emergencies;\nbut quite assured that God might at all times be relied on. He was\nconvinced that God was not depending upon him, but he upon God. He saw\nthat God did not trust to his cleverness and craft, no, nor even to his\nwillingness to do and endure God's will, but that He was trusting in\nHimself, and that by His faithfulness to His own promise, by His\nwatchfulness and providence, He would bring Abram through all the\nentanglements caused by his own poor ideas of the best way to work out\nGod's ends and attain to His blessing. He saw, in a word, that the\nfuture of the world lay not with Abram but with God.\n\nThis certainly was a great and needful step in the knowledge of God.\nThus early and thus unmistakably was man taught in how profound and\ncomprehensive a sense God is his Saviour. Commonly it takes a man a long\ntime to learn that it is God who is saving him, but one day he learns\nit. He learns that it is not his own faith but God's faithfulness that\nsaves him. He perceives that he needs God throughout, from first to\nlast; not only to make him offers, but to enable him to accept them; not\nonly to incline him to accept them to-day, but to maintain within him at\nall times this same inclination. He learns that God not only makes him a\npromise and leaves him to find his own way to what is promised; but that\nHe is with him always, disentangling him day by day from the results of\nhis own folly and securing for him not only possible but actual\nblessedness.\n\nFew discoveries are so welcome and gladdening to the soul. Few give us\nthe same sense of God's nearness and sovereignty; few make us feel so\ndeeply the dignity and importance of our own salvation and career. This\nis God's affair; a matter in which are involved not merely our personal\ninterests, but God's responsibility and purposes. God calls us to be\nHis, and He does not send us a-warring on our own charges, but\nthroughout furnishes us with _everything_ we need. When we go down to\nEgypt, when we quite diverge from the path that leads to the promised\nland and worldly straits tempt us to turn our back upon God's altar and\nseek relief by our own arrangements and devices, when we forget for a\nwhile how God has identified our interests with His own and tacitly\nabjure the vows we have silently registered before Him, even then He\nfollows us and watches over us and lays His hand upon us and bids us\nback. And this only is our hope. Not in any determination of our own to\ncleave to Him and to live in faith on His promise can we trust. If we\nhave this determination, let us cherish it, for this is God's present\nmeans of leading us onwards. But should this determination fail, the\nshame with which you recognise your want of steadfastness may prove a\nstronger bond to hold you to Him than the bold confidence with which\nto-day you view the future. The waywardness, the foolishness, the\nobstinate depravity that cause you to despair, God will conquer. With\nuntiring patience, with all-foreseeing love, He stands by you and will\nbring you through. His gifts and calling are without repentance.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\n_LOT'S SEPARATION FROM ABRAM._\n\nGENESIS xiii.\n\n\nAbram left Egypt thinking meanly of himself, highly of God. This humble\nframe of mind is disclosed in the route he chooses; he went straight\nback \"unto the place where his tent had been at the beginning, unto the\naltar which he had made there at the first.\" With a childlike simplicity\nhe seems to own that his visit to Egypt had been a mistake. He had gone\nthere supposing that he was thrown upon his own resources, and that in\norder to keep himself and his dependants alive he must have recourse to\ncraft and dishonesty. By retracing his steps and returning to the altar\nat Bethel, he seems to acknowledge that he should have remained there\nthrough the famine in dependence on God.\n\nWhoever has attempted a similar practical repentance, visible to his own\nhousehold and affecting their place of abode or daily occupations, will\nknow how to estimate the candour and courage of Abram. To own that some\ndistinctly marked portion of our life, upon which we entered with great\nconfidence in our own wisdom and capacity, has come to nothing and has\nbetrayed us into reprehensible conduct, is mortifying indeed. To admit\nthat we have erred and to repair our error by returning to our old way\nand practice, is what few of us have the courage to do. If we have\nentered on some branch of business or gone into some attractive\nspeculation, or if we have altered our demeanour towards some friend,\nand if we are finding that we are thereby tempted to doubleness, to\nequivocation, to injustice, our only hope lies in a candid and\nstraightforward repentance, in a manly and open return to the state of\nthings that existed in happier days and which we should never have\nabandoned. Sometimes we are aware that a blight began to fall on our\nspiritual life from a particular date, and we can easily and distinctly\ntrace an unhealthy habit of spirit to a well-marked passage in our\noutward career; but we shrink from the sacrifice and shame involved in a\nthoroughgoing restoration of the old state of things. We are always so\nready to fancy we have done enough, if we get one heartfelt word of\nconfession uttered; so ready, if we merely turn our faces towards God,\nto think our restoration complete. Let us make a point of getting\nthrough mere beginnings of repentance, mere intention to recover God's\nfavour and a sound condition of life, and let us return and return till\nwe bow at God's very altar again, and know that His hand is laid upon us\nin blessing as at the first.\n\nOut of Egypt Abram brought vastly increased wealth. Each time he\nencamped, quite a town of black tents quickly rose round the spot where\nhis fixed spear gave the signal for halting. And along with him there\njourneyed his nephew, apparently of almost equal, or at least\nconsiderable wealth; not dependent on Abram, nor even a partner with\nhim, for \"Lot also had flocks and herds and tents.\" So rapidly was their\nsubstance increasing that no sooner did they become stationary than\nthey found that the land was not able to furnish them with sufficient\npasture. The Canaanite and the Perizzite would not allow them unlimited\npasture in the neighbourhood of Bethel; and as the inevitable result of\nthis the rival shepherds, eager to secure the best pasture for their own\nflocks and the best wells for their own cattle and camels, came to high\nwords and probably to blows about their respective rights.\n\nTo both Abram and Lot it must have occurred that this competition\nbetween relatives was unseemly, and that some arrangement must be come\nto. And when at last some unusually blunt quarrel took place in presence\nof the chiefs, Abram divulges to Lot the scheme which had suggested\nitself to him. This state of things, he says, must come to an end; it is\nunseemly, unwise, and unrighteous. And as they walk on out of the circle\nof tents to discuss the matter without interruption, they come to a\nrising ground where the wide prospect brings them naturally to a pause.\nAbram looking north and south and seeing with the trained eye of a large\nflock-master that there was abundant pasture for both, turns to Lot with\na final proposal: \"Is not the whole land before thee? Separate thyself,\nI pray thee, from me: if thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to\nthe right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the\nleft.\"\n\nThus early did wealth produce quarrelling among relatives. The men who\nhad shared one another's fortunes while comparatively poor, no sooner\nbecome wealthy than they have to separate. Abram prevented quarrel by\nseparation. \"Let us,\" he says, \"come to an understanding. And rather\nthan be separate in heart, let us be separate in habitation.\" It is\nalways a sorrowful time in family history when it comes to this, that\nthose who have had a common purse and have not been careful to know what\nexactly is theirs and what belongs to the other members of the family,\nhave at last to make a division and to be as precise and documentary as\nif dealing with strangers. It is always painful to be compelled to own\nthat law can be more trusted than love, and that legal forms are a surer\nbarrier against quarrelling than brotherly kindness. It is a confession\nwe are sometimes compelled to make, but never without a mixture of\nregret and shame.\n\nAs yet the character of Lot has not been exhibited, and we can only\ncalculate from the relation he bears to Abram what his answer to the\nproposal will probably be. We know that Abram has been the making of his\nnephew, and that the land belongs to Abram; and we should expect that in\ncommon decency Lot would set aside the generous offer of his uncle and\ndemand that he only should determine the matter. \"It is not for me to\nmake choice in a land which is wholly yours. My future does not carry in\nit the import of yours. It is a small matter what kind of subsistence I\nsecure or where I find it. Choose for yourself, and allot to me what is\nright.\" We see here what a safeguard of happiness in life right feeling\nis. To be in right and pleasant relations with the persons around us\nwill save us from error and sin even when conscience and judgment give\nno certain decision. The heart which feels gratitude is beyond the need\nof being schooled and compelled to do justly. To the man who is\naffectionately disposed it is superfluous to insist upon the rights of\nother persons. The instinct which tells a man what is due to others and\nmakes him sensitive to their wrongs will preserve him from many an\nignominious action which would degrade his whole life. But such\ninstinct was awanting in Lot. His character though in some respects\nadmirable had none of the generosity of Abram's in it. He had allowed\nhimself on countless previous occasions to take advantage of Abram's\nunselfishness. Generosity is not always infectious; often it encourages\nselfishness in child, relative, or neighbour. And so Lot instead of\nrivalling, traded on his uncle's magnanimity; and chose him all the\nplains of Jordan because in his eye it was the richest part of the land.\n\nThis choice of Sodom as a dwelling-place was the great mistake of Lot's\nlife. He is the type of that very large class of men who have but one\nrule for determining them at the turning points of life. He was swayed\nsolely by the consideration of worldly advantage. He has nothing deep,\nnothing high in him. He recognises no duty to Abram, no gratitude, no\nmodesty; he has no perception of spiritual relations, no sense that God\nshould have something to say in the partition of the land. Lot may be\nacquitted of a good deal which at first sight one is prompted to lay to\nhis charge, but he cannot be acquitted of showing an eagerness to better\nhimself, regardless of all considerations but the promise of wealth\nafforded by the fertility of the Jordan valley. He saw a quick though\ndangerous road to wealth. There seemed a certainty of success in his\nearthly calling, a risk only of moral disaster. He shut his eyes to the\nrisk that he might grasp the wealth; and so doing, ruined both himself\nand his family.\n\nThe situation is one which is ceaselessly repeated. To men in business\nor in the cultivation of literature or art, or in one of the\nprofessions, there are presented opportunities of attaining a better\nposition by cultivating the friendship or identifying oneself with the\npractice of men whose society is not in itself desirable. Society is\nmade up of little circles, each of which has its own monopoly of some\nsocial or commercial or political advantage, and its own characteristic\ntone and enjoyments and customs. And if a man will not join one of these\ncircles and accommodate himself to the mode of carrying on business and\nto the style of living it has identified with itself, he must forego the\nadvantages which entrance to that circle would secure for him. As\nclearly as Lot saw that the well-watered plain stretching away under the\nsunshine was the right place to exercise his vocation as a flock-master,\nso do we see that associated with such and such persons and recognised\nas one of them, we shall be able more effectively than in any other\nposition to use whatever natural gifts we have, and win the recognition\nand the profit these gifts seem to warrant. There is but one drawback.\n\"The men of Sodom were wicked and sinners before the Lord exceedingly.\"\nThere is a tone you do not like; you hesitate to identify yourself with\nmen who live solely and with cynical frankness only for gain; whose\nevery sentence betrays the contemptible narrowness of soul to which\nworldliness condemns men; who live for money and who glory in their\nshame.\n\nThe very nature of the world in which we live makes such temptation\nuniversal. And to yield is common and fatal. We persuade ourselves we\nneed not enter into close relations with the persons we propose to have\nbusiness connections with. Lot would have been horrified, that day he\nmade his choice, had it been told him his daughters would marry men of\nSodom. But the swimmer who ventures into the outer circle of the\nwhirlpool finds that his own resolve not to go further presents a very\nweak resistance to the water's inevitable suction. We fancy perhaps\nthat to refuse the companionship of any class of men is pharisaic; that\nwe have no business to condemn the attitude towards the Church, or the\nmorality, or the style of living adopted by any class of men among us.\nThis is the mere cant of liberalism. We do not condemn persons who\nsuffer from smallpox, but a smallpox hospital would be about the last\nplace we should choose for a residence. Or possibly we imagine we shall\nbe able to carry some better influences into the society we enter. A\nvain imagination; the motive for choosing the society has already sapped\nour power for good.\n\nMany of the errors of worldly men only reveal their most disastrous\nconsequences in the second generation. Like some virulent diseases they\nhave a period of incubation. Lot's family grew up in a very different\natmosphere from that which had nourished his own youth in Abram's tents.\nAn adult and robust Englishman can withstand the climate of India; but\nhis children who are born in it cannot. And the position in society\nwhich has been gained in middle life by the carefully and hardily\ntrained child of a God-fearing household, may not very visibly damage\nhis own character, but may yet be absolutely fatal to the morality of\nhis children. Lot may have persuaded himself he chose the dangerous\nprosperity of Sodom mainly for the sake of his children; but in point of\nfact he had better have seen them die of starvation in the most barren\nand parched desolation. And the parent who disregards conscience and\nchooses wealth or position, fancying that thus he benefits his children,\nwill find to his life-long sorrow that he has entangled them in\nunimagined temptations.\n\nBut the man who makes Lot's choice not only does a great injury to his\nchildren, but cuts himself off from all that is best in life. We are\nsafe to say that after leaving Abram's tents Lot never again enjoyed\nunconstrainedly happy days. The men born and brought up in Sodom were\npossibly happy after their kind and in their fashion; but Lot was not.\nHis soul was daily vexed. Many a time while hearing the talk of the men\nhis daughters had married, must Lot have gone out with a sore heart, and\nlooked to the distant hills that hid the tents of Abram, and longed for\nan hour of the company he used to enjoy. And the society to which you\nare tempted to join yourself may not be unhappy, but you can take no\nsurer means of beclouding, embittering, and ruining your whole life than\nby joining it. You cannot forget the thoughts you once had, the\nfriendships you once delighted in, the hopes that shed brightness\nthrough all your life. You cannot blot out the ideal that once you\ncherished as the most animating element of your life. Every day there\nwill be that rising in your mind which is in the sharpest contrast to\nthe thoughts of those with whom you are associated. You will despise\nthem for their shallow, worldly ideas and ways; but you will despise\nyourself still more, being conscious that what they are through\nignorance and upbringing, you are in virtue of your own foolish and mean\nchoice. There is that in you which rebels against the superficial and\nexternal measure by which they judge things, and yet you have\ndeliberately chosen these as your associates, and can only think with\nheart-broken regret of the high thoughts that once visited you and the\nhopes you have now no means of fulfilling. Your life is taken out of\nyour own hands; you find yourself in bondage to the circumstances you\nhave chosen; and you are learning in bitterness, disappointment, and\nshame, that indeed \"a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the\nthings which he possesseth.\" To determine your life solely by the\nprospect of worldly success is to risk the loss of the best things in\nlife. To sacrifice friendship or conscience to success in your calling\nis to sacrifice what is best to what is lowest, and to blind yourself to\nthe highest human happiness. For happily the essential elements of the\nhighest happiness are as open to the poor as to the rich, to the\nunsuccessful as to the successful--love of wife and children, congenial\nand educating friendships, the knowledge of what the best men have done\nand the wisest men have said; the pleasure and impulse, the sentiments\nand beliefs which result from our knowledge of the heroic deeds done\nfrom year to year among men; the enlivening influence of examples that\ntell on all men alike, young and old, rich and poor; the insight and\nstrength of character that are won in the hard wrestle with life; the\ngrowing consciousness that God is in human life, that He is ours and\nthat we are His--these things and all that makes human life of value are\nuniversal as air and sunshine, but must be missed by those who make the\nworld their object.\n\nThough in point of fact Lot cut himself off by his choice from direct\nparticipation in the special inheritance to which Abram was called by\nGod, it might perhaps be too much to say that his choice of the valley\nof Jordan was an explicit renunciation of the special blessedness of\nthose who find their joy in responding to God's call and doing His work\nin the world. It might also be extravagant to say that his choice of the\nrichest land was prompted by the feeling that he was not included in the\npromise to Abram, and might as well make the most of his present\nopportunities. But it is certain that Abram's generosity to Lot arose\nout of his sense that in God he himself had abundant possession. In\nEgypt he had learned that in order to secure all that is worth having a\nman need never resort to duplicity, trickery, bold lying. He now learns\nthat in order to enter on his own God-provided lot, he need shut no\nother man out of his. He is taught that to acknowledge amply the rights\nof other men is the surest road to the enjoyment of his own rights. He\nis taught that there is room in God's plan for every man to follow his\nmost generous impulses and the highest views of life that visit him.\n\nIt was Abram's simple belief that God's promise was meant and was\nsubstantial, that made him indifferent as to what Lot might choose. His\nfaith was judged in this scene, and was proved to be sound. This man\nwhose very calling it was to own this land, could freely allow Lot to\nchoose the best of it. Why? Because he has learned that it is not by any\nplan of his own he is to come into possession; that God Who promised is\nto give him the land in His own way, and that his part is to act\nuprightly, mercifully, like God. Wherever there is faith, the same\nresults will appear. He who believes that God is pledged to provide for\nhim cannot be greedy, anxious, covetous; can only be liberal, even\nmagnanimous. Any one can thus test his own faith. If he does not find\nthat what God promises weighs substantially when put in the scales with\ngold; if he does not find that the accomplishment of God's purpose with\nhim in the world is to him the most valuable thing, and actually compels\nhim to think lightly of worldly position and ordinary success; if he\ndoes not find that in point of fact the gains which content a man of\nthe world shrivel and lose interest, he may feel tolerably certain he\nhas no faith and is not counting as certain what God has promised.\n\nIt is commonly observed that wealth pursues the men who part with it\nmost freely. Abram had this experience. No sooner had he allowed Lot to\nchoose his portion than God gave him assurance that the whole would be\nhis. It is \"the meek\" who \"inherit the earth.\" Not only have they, in\ntheir very losses and while suffering wrong at the hands of their\nfellows, a purer joy than those who wrong them; but they know themselves\nheirs of God with the certainty of enjoying all His possessions that can\navail for their advantage. Declining to devote themselves as living\nsacrifices to business they hold their soul at leisure for what brings\ntruest happiness, for friendship, for knowledge, for charity. Even in\nthis life they may be said to inherit the earth, for all its richest\nfruits are theirs--the ground may belong to other men, but the beauty of\nthe landscape is theirs without burden--and ever and anon they hear such\nwords as were now uttered to Abram. They alone are inclined or able to\nreceive renewed assurances that God is mindful of His promise and will\nabundantly bless them. It is they who are in no haste to be rich, and\nare content to abide in the retired hill-country where they can freely\nassemble round God's altar, it is they who seek first the kingdom of God\nand make sure of that, whatever else they put in hazard, to whom God's\nencouragements come. You wonder at the certainty with which others speak\nof hearing God's voice and that so seldom you have the joy of knowing\nthat God is directing and encouraging you. Why should you wonder, if you\nvery well know that your attention is directed mainly to the world,\nthat your heart trembles and thrills with all the fluctuations of your\nearthly hopes, that you wait for news and listen to every hint that can\naffect your position in life? Can you wonder that an ear trained to be\nso sensitive to the near earthly sounds, should quite have lost the\nrange of heavenly voices?\n\nOf the assurance here given him Abram was probably much in need when Lot\nhad withdrawn with his flocks and servants. When the warmth of feeling\ncooled and allowed the somewhat unpleasant facts of the case to press\nupon his mind; and when he heard his shepherds murmuring that after all\nthe strife they had maintained for their master's rights, he should have\nweakly yielded these to Lot; and when he reflected, as now he inevitably\nwould reflect, how selfish and ungrateful Lot had shown himself to be,\nhe must have been tempted to think he had possibly made a mistake in\ndealing so generously with such a man. This reflection on himself might\nnaturally grow into a reflection upon God, Who might have been expected\nso to order matters as to give the best country to the best man. All\nsuch reflections are precluded by the renewed grant he now receives of\nthe whole land.\n\nIt is always as difficult to govern our heart wisely after as before\nmaking a sacrifice. It is as difficult to keep the will decided as to\nmake the original decision; and it is more difficult to think\naffectionately of those for whom the sacrifice has been made, when the\nchange in their condition and our own is actually accomplished. There is\na natural reaction after a generous action which is not always\nsufficiently resisted. And when we see that those who refuse to make any\nsacrifices are more prosperous and less ruffled in spirit than ourselves\nwe are tempted to take matters into our own hand, and, without waiting\nupon God, to use the world's quick ways. At such times we find how\ndifficult it is to hold an advanced position, and how much unbelief\nmingles with the sincerest faith, and what vile dregs of selfishness\nsully the clearest generosity; we find our need of God and of those\nencouragements and assistances He can impart to the soul. Happy are we\nif we receive them and are enabled thereby to be constant in the good we\nhave begun; for all sacrifice is good begun. And as Abram saw, when the\ncities of the plain were destroyed, how kindly God had guided him; so\nwhen our history is complete, we shall have no inclination to grumble at\nany passage of our life which we entered by generosity and faith in God,\nbut shall see how tenderly God has held us back from much that our soul\nhas been ardently desiring, and which we thought would be the making of\nus.\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\n_ABRAM'S RESCUE OF LOT._\n\nGENESIS xiv.\n\n\nThis chapter evidently incorporates a contemporary account of the events\nrecorded. So antique a document was it even when it found its place in\nthis book, that the editor had to modernize some of its expressions that\nit might be intelligible. The places mentioned were no longer known by\nthe names here preserved--Bela, the vale of Siddim, En-mishpat, the\nvalley of Shaveh, all these names were unknown even to the persons who\ndwelt in the places once so designated. It can scarcely have been Abram\nwho wrote down the narrative, for he himself is spoken of as Abram the\nHebrew, the man born beyond the Euphrates, which is a way of speaking of\nhimself no one would naturally adopt. From the clear outline given of\nthe route followed by the expedition of Chedorlaomer, it might be\nsupposed that some old staff-secretary had reported on the campaign.\nHowever that may be, the discoveries of the last two or three years have\nshed light on the outlandish names that have stood for four thousand\nyears in this document, and on the relations subsisting between Elam and\nPalestine.\n\nOn the bricks now preserved in our own British Museum the very names we\nread in this chapter can be traced, in the slightly altered form which\nis always given to a name when pronounced by different races.\nChedorlaomer is the Hebrew transliteration of Kudur Lagamar; Lagamar was\nthe name of one of the Chaldean deities, and the whole name means\nLagamar's son, evidently a name of dignity adopted by the king of Elam.\nElam comprehended the broad and rich plains to the east of the lower\ncourse of the Tigris, together with the mountain range (8,000 to 10,000\nfeet high) that bounds them. Elam was always able to maintain its own\nagainst Assyria and Babylonia, and at this time it evidently exercised\nsome kind of supremacy not only over these neighbouring powers, but as\nfar west as the valley of the Jordan. The importance of keeping open the\nvalley of the Jordan is obvious to every one who has interest enough in\nthe subject to look at a map. That valley was the main route for trading\ncaravans and for military expeditions between the Euphrates and Egypt.\nWhoever held that valley might prove a most formidable annoyance and\nindeed an absolute interruption to commercial or political relations\nbetween Egypt and Elam, or the Eastern powers. Sometimes it might serve\nthe purpose of East and West to have a neutral power between them, as\nbecame afterwards clear in the history of Israel, but oftener it was the\nambition of either Egypt or of the East to hold Canaan in subjection. A\nrebellion therefore of these chiefs occupying the vale of Siddim was\nsufficiently important to bring the king of Elam from his distant\ncapital, attaching to his army as he came, his tributaries Amraphel king\nof Shinar or northern Chaldea, Arioch king of a district on the east of\nthe Euphrates, and finally Tidal, or rather Tur-gal _i.e._ the great\nchief, who ruled over the nations or tribes to the north of Babylonia.\n\nSusa, the capital of Elam, lies almost on the same parallel as the vale\nof Siddim, but between them lie many hundred miles of impracticable\ndesert. Chedorlaomer and his army followed therefore much the same route\nas Terah in his emigration, first going north-west up the Euphrates and\nthen crossing it probably at Carchemish, or above it, and coming\nsouthward towards Canaan. But the country to the east of the Jordan and\nthe Dead Sea was occupied by warlike and marauding tribes who would have\nliked nothing better than to swoop down on a rich booty-laden Eastern\narmy. With the sagacity of an old soldier therefore, Chedorlaomer makes\nit his first business to sweep this rough ground, and so cripple the\ntribes in his passage southwards, that when he swept round the lower end\nof the Dead Sea and up the Jordan valley he should have nothing to fear\nat least on his right flank. The tribe that first felt his sword was\nthat of the Rephaim, or giants. Their stronghold was Ashteroth Karnaim,\nor Ashteroth of the two horns, a town dedicated to the goddess Astarte\nwhose symbol was the crescent or two-horned moon. The Zuzims and the\nEmims, \"a people great and many and tall,\" as we read in Deuteronomy,\nnext fell before the invading host. The Horites, _i.e._ cave-dwellers or\ntroglodytes, would scarcely hold Chedorlaomer long, though from their\nhilly fastnesses they might do him some damage. Passing through their\nmountains he came upon the great road between the Dead Sea and the\nElanitic gulf--but he crossed this road and still held westward till he\nreached the edge of what is roughly known as the Desert of Sinai. Here,\nsays the narrative (ver. 7), they returned, that is, this was their\nfurthest point south and west, and here they turned and made for the\nvale of Siddim, smiting the Amalekites and the Amorites on their route.\n\nThis is the only part of the army's route that is at all obscure. The\nlast place they are spoken of as touching before reaching the vale of\nSiddim is Hazezon-Tamar, or as it was afterwards and is still called\nEngedi. Now Engedi lies on the western shore of the Dead Sea about half\nway up from south to north. It lies on a very steep, indeed artificially\nmade, pass and is a place of much greater importance on that account\nthan its size would make it. The road between Moab and Palestine runs by\nthe western margin of the Dead Sea up to this point, but beyond this\npoint the shore is impracticable, and the only road is through the\nEngedi pass on to the higher ground above. If the army chose this route\nthen they were compelled to force this pass; if on the other hand they\npreferred during their whole march from Kadesh to keep away west of the\nDead Sea on the higher ground, then they would only detail a company to\npounce upon Engedi, as the main army passed behind and above. In either\ncase the main body must have been if not actually within sight of, yet\nonly a few miles from, the encampment of Abram.\n\nAt length as they dropped down through the practicable passes into the\nvale of Siddim their grand object became apparent, and the kings of the\nfive allied towns, probably warned by the hill-tribes weeks before, drew\nout to meet them. But it is not easy to check an army in full career,\nand the wells of bitumen, which those who knew the ground might have\nturned to good purpose against the foreigners, actually hindered the\nhome troops and became a trap to them. The rout was complete. No second\nstand or rally was attempted. The towns were sacked, the fields swept,\nand so swift were the movements of the invaders that although Abram was\nbarely twenty miles off, and no doubt started for the rescue of Lot the\nhour he got the news, he did not overtake the army, laden as it was with\nspoil and retarded by prisoners and wounded, until they had reached the\nsources of Jordan.\n\nBut well-conceived and brilliantly executed as this campaign had been,\nthe experienced warrior had failed to take account of the most\nformidable opponent he would have to reckon with. Those that escaped\nfrom the slaughter at Sodom took to the hills, and either knowing they\nwould find shelter with Abram or more probably blindly running on, found\nthemselves at nightfall within sight of the encampment at Hebron. There\nis no delay on Abram's part; he hastily calls out his men, each\nsnatching his bow, his sword, and his spear, and slinging over his\nshoulders a few days' provision. The neighbouring Amorite chiefs Aner,\nMamre and Eshcol join them, probably with a troop each, and before many\nhours are lost they are down the passes and in hot pursuit. Not however\ntill they had traversed a hundred and twenty miles or more do they\novertake the Eastern army. But at Dan, at the very springs of the\nJordan, they find them, and making a night attack throw them into utter\nconfusion and pursue them as far as Hobah, a village near Damascus, that\nretains to this day the same name.\n\nOne is naturally curious to see how Abram will conduct himself in\ncircumstances so unaccustomed. From leading a quiet pastoral life he\nsuddenly becomes the most important man in the country, a man who can\nmake himself felt from the Nile to the Tigris. From a herd he becomes a\nhero. But, notoriously, power tries a man, and, as one has often seen\npersons make very glaring mistakes in such altered circumstances and\nalter their characters and beliefs to suit and take advantage of the new\nmaterial and opportunities presented to them, we are interested in\nseeing how a man whose one rule of action has hitherto been faith in a\npromise given him by God, will pass through such a trial. Can a\nspiritual quality like faith be of much service in rough campaigning and\nwhen the man of faith is mixed up with persons of doubtful character and\nunscrupulous conduct, and brought into contact with considerable\npolitical powers? Can we trace to Abram's faith any part of his action\nat this time? No sooner is the question put than we see that his faith\nin God's promise was precisely that which gave him balance and dignity,\ncourage and generosity in dealing with the three prominent persons in\nthe narrative. He could afford to be forgiving and generous to his grand\ncompetitor Lot, precisely because he felt sure God would deal generously\nwith himself. He could afford to acknowledge Melchizedek and any other\nauthority that might appear, as his superior, and he would not take\nadvantage, even when at the head of his men eager for more fighting, of\nthe peaceful king who came out to propitiate him, because he knew that\nGod would give him his land without wronging other people. And he\nscorned the wages of the king of Sodom, holding himself to be no\nmercenary captain, nor indebted to any one but God. In a word, you see\nfaith producing all that is of importance in his conduct at this time.\n\nLot is the person who of all others might have been expected to be\nforward in his expressions of gratitude to Abram--not a word of his is\nrecorded. Ashamed he cannot but have been, for if Abram said not a word\nof reproach, there would be plenty of Lot's old friends among Abram's\nmen who could not lose so good an opportunity of twitting him about the\ngood choice he had made. And considering how humiliating it would have\nbeen for him to go back with Abram and abandon the district of his\nadoption, we can scarcely wonder that he should have gone quietly back\nto Sodom, well as he must by this time have known the nature of the\nrisks he ran there. For, after all, this warning was not very loud. The\nsame thing, or a similar thing, might have happened had he remained with\nAbram. The warning was unobtrusive as the warnings in life mostly are;\naudible to the ear that has been accustomed to listen to the still small\nvoice of conscience, inaudible to the ear that is trained to hear quite\nother voices. God does not set angels and flaming swords in every man's\npath. The little whisper that no one hears but ourselves only and that\nsays quite quietly that we are continuing in a wrong course, is as\ncertain an indication that we are in danger, as if God were to proclaim\nour case from heaven with thunder or the voice of an archangel. And when\na man has persistently refused to listen to conscience it ceases to\nspeak, and he loses the power to discern between good and evil and is\nleft wholly without a guide. He may be running straight to destruction\nand he does not know it. You cannot live under two principles of action,\nregard to worldly interest and regard to conscience. You can train\nyourself to great acuteness in perceiving and following out what is for\nyour worldly advantage, or you can train yourself to great acuteness of\nconscience; but you must make your choice, for in proportion as you gain\nsensitiveness in the one direction you lose it in the other. If your eye\nis _single_ your whole body is full of light; but if the light that is\nin thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!\n\nMelchizedek is generally recognised as the most mysterious and\nunaccountable of historical personages; appearing here in the King's\nVale no one knows whence, and disappearing no one knows whither, but\ncoming with his hands full of substantial gifts for the wearied\nhousehold of Abram, and the captive women that were with him. Of each of\nthe patriarchs we can tell the paternity; the date of his birth, and the\ndate of his death; but this man stands with none to claim him, he forms\nno part of any series of links by which the oldest and the present times\nare connected. Though possessed of the knowledge of the Most High God,\nhis name is not found in any of those genealogies which show us how that\nknowledge passed from father to son. Of all the other great men whose\nhistory is recorded a careful genealogy is given; but here the writer\nbreaks his rule, and breaks it where, had there not been substantial\nreason, he would most certainly have adhered to it. For here is the\ngreatest man of the time, a man before whom Abram the father of the\nfaithful, the honoured of all nations, bowed and paid tithes; and yet he\nappears and passes away likest to a vision of the night. Perhaps even in\nhis own time there was none that could point to the chamber where first\nhe was cradled, nor show the tent round which first he played in his\nboyhood, nor hoard up a single relic of the early years of the man that\nhad risen to be the first man upon earth in those days. So that the\nApostle speaks of him as a very type of all that is mysterious and\nabrupt in appearance and disappearance, \"without father, without mother,\nwithout descent, having neither beginning of days, nor end of life,\" and\nas he significantly adds, \"made like unto the Son of God.\" For as\nMelchizedek stands thus on the page of history, so our Lord in\nreality--as the one has no recorded pedigree, and holds an office\nbeginning and ending in his own person, so our Lord, though born of a\nwoman, stands separate from sinners and quite out of the ordinary line\nof generations, and exercises an office which he received hereditarily\nfrom none, and which he could commit to no successor. As the one stands\napparently disconnected from all before and after him, so the Other in\npoint of fact did thus suddenly emerge from eternity, a problem to all\nwho saw Him; owning the authority of earthly parents, yet claiming an\nantiquity greater than Abram's; appearing suddenly to the captivity led\ncaptive, with His hands full of gifts, and His lips dropping words of\nblessing.\n\nMelchizedek is the one personage on earth whom Abram recognises as his\nspiritual superior. Abram accepts his blessing and pays him tithes;\napparently as priest of the Most High God; so that in paying to him,\nAbram is giving the tenth of his spoils to God. This is not any mere\ncourtesy of private persons. It was done in presence of various parties\nof jealously watchful retainers. Men of rank and office and position\n_consider_ how they should act to one another and who should take\nprecedence. And Abram did deliberately and with a perfect perception of\nwhat he was doing, whatever he now did. Manifestly therefore God's\nrevelation of Himself was not as yet confined to the one line running\nfrom Abram to Christ. Here was a man of whom we really do not know\nwhether he was a Canaanite, a son of Ham or a son of Shem; yet Abram\nrecognises him as having knowledge of the true God, and even bows to him\nas his spiritual superior in office if not in experience. This shows us\nhow little jealousy Abram had of others being favoured by God, how\nlittle he thought _his_ connection with God would be less secure if\nother men enjoyed a similar connection, and how heartily he welcomed\nthose who with different rites and different prospects yet worshipped\nthe living God. It shows us also how apt we are to limit God's ways of\nworking; and how little we understand of the connections He has with\nthose who are not situated as we ourselves are. Here while all our\nattention is concentrated on Abram as carrying the whole spiritual hope\nof the world, there emerges from an obscure Canaanite valley a man\nnearer to God than Abram is. From how many unthought-of places such men\nmay at any time come out upon us, we really can never tell.\n\nAgain Melchizedek is evidently a title, not a name--the word means King\nof Righteousness, or Righteous King. It may have been a title adopted by\na line of kings, or it may have been peculiar to this one man. But these\nold Canaanites, if Canaanites they were, had got hold of a great\nprinciple when they gave this title to the king of their city of Salem\nor Peace. They perceived that it was the righteousness, the justice, of\ntheir king that could best uphold their peaceful city. They saw that the\nright king for them was a man not grinding his neighbours by war and\ntaxes, not overriding the rights of others and seeking always\nenlargement of his own dominion; nor a merely merciful man, inclined to\ntreat sin lightly and leaning always to laxity; but the man they would\nchoose to give them peace was the righteous man who might sometimes seem\noverscrupulous, sometimes over-stern, who would sometimes be called\nromantic and sometimes fanatical, but through all whose dealings it\nwould be obvious that justice to all parties was the aim in view. Some\nof them might not be good enough to love a ruler who made no more of\ntheir special interest than he did of others, but all would possibly\nhave wit enough to see that only by justice could they have peace. It is\nthe reflex of God's government in which righteousness is the foundation\nof peace, a righteousness unflinching and invariable, promulgating holy\nlaws and exacting punishment from all who break them. It is this that\ngives us hope of eternal peace, that we know God has not left out of\naccount facts that must yet be reckoned with, nor merely lulled the\nunquiet forebodings of conscience, but has let every righteous law and\nprinciple find full scope, has done righteously in offering us pardon so\nthat nothing can ever turn up to deprive us of our peace. And it is\nquite in vain that any individual holds before his mind the prospect of\npeace, _i.e._ of permanent satisfaction, so long as he is not seeking it\nby righteousness. In so far as he is keeping his conscience from\ninterfering, in so far is he making it impossible to himself to enter\ninto the condition for the sake of which he is keeping conscience from\nregulating his conduct.\n\nLastly, Abram's refusal of the king of Sodom's offers is significant.\nNaturally enough, and probably in accordance with well-established\nusage, the king proposes that Abram should receive the rescued goods and\nthe spoil of the invading army. But Abram knew men, and knew that\nalthough now Sodom was eager to show that he felt himself indebted to\nAbram, the time would come when he would point to this occasion as\nlaying the foundation of Abram's fortune. When a man rises in the world\nevery one will tell you of the share he had in raising him, and will\nconvey the impression that but for assistance rendered by the speaker he\nwould not have been what he now is. Abram knows that he is destined to\nrise, and knows also by Whose help he is to rise. He intends to receive\nall from God; and therefore not a thread from Sodom. He puts his refusal\nin the form adopted by the man whose mind is made up beyond revisal. He\nhas \"vowed\" it. He had anticipated such offers and had considered their\nbearing on his relations to God and man; and taking advantage of the\nunembarrassed season in which the offer was as yet only a possibility,\nhe had resolved that when it was actually made he would refuse it, no\nmatter what advantages it seemed to offer. So should we in our better\nseasons and when we know we are viewing things healthily,\nconscientiously, and righteously, determine what our conduct is to be,\nand if possible so commit ourselves to it that when the right frame is\npassed we cannot draw back from the right conduct. Abram had done so,\nand however tempting the spoils of the Eastern kings were, they did not\nmove him. His vow had been made to the Possessor of heaven and earth, in\nWhose hand were riches beyond the gifts of Sodom.\n\nHere again it is the man of faith that appears. He shows a noble\njealousy of God's prerogative to bless him. He will not give men\noccasion to say that any earthly monarch has enriched him. It shall be\nmade plain that it is on God he is depending. In all men of faith there\nwill be something of this spirit. They cannot fail so to frame their\nlife as to let it come clearly out that for happiness, for success, for\ncomfort, for joy, they are in the main depending on God. That this\ncannot be done in the complex life of modern society, no one will\nventure to say in presence of this incident. Could we more easily have\nshown our reliance upon God in the hurry of a sudden foray, in the\nturmoil and intense action of a midnight attack and hand to hand\nconflict, in the excitement and elation of a triumphal progress, the\nkings of the country vying with one another to do us honour and the\nrescued captives lauding our valour and generosity? No one fails to see\nwhat it was that balanced Abram in this intoxicating march. No one asks\nwhat enabled him, while leading his armed followers flushed with success\nthrough a land weakened by recent dismay and disaster, to restrain them\nand himself from claiming the whole land as his. No one asks what gave\nhim moral perception to see that the opportunity given him of winning\nthe land by the sword was a temptation not a guiding providence. To\nevery reader it is obvious that his dependence on God was his safeguard\nand his light. God would bring him by fair and honourable means to his\nown. There was no need of violence, no need of receiving help from\ndoubtful allies. This is true nobility; and this, faith always produces.\nBut it must be a faith like Abram's; not a quick and superficial growth,\nbut a deeply-rooted principle. For against all temptations this only is\nour sure defence, that already our hearts are so filled with God's\npromise that other offers find no craving in us, no empty dissatisfied\nspot on which they can settle. To such faith God responds by the\nelevating and strengthening assurance, \"I am thy shield, and thy\nexceeding great reward.\"\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\n_COVENANT WITH ABRAM._\n\nGENESIS xv.\n\n\nOf the nine Divine manifestations made during Abram's life this is the\nfifth. At Ur, at Kharran, at the oak of Moreh, at the encampment between\nBethel and Ai, and now at Mamre, he received guidance and encouragement\nfrom God. Different terms are used regarding these manifestations.\nSometimes it is said \"The Lord appeared unto him;\" here for the first\ntime in the course of God's revelation occurs that expression which\nafterwards became normal, \"The word of the Lord came unto Abram.\"\nThroughout the subsequent history this word of the Lord continues to\ncome, often at long intervals, but always meeting the occasion and needs\nof His people and joining itself on to what had already been declared,\nuntil at last the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, giving thus to\nall men assurance of the nearness and profound sympathy of their God. To\nrepeat this revelation is impossible. A repetition of it would be a\ndenial of its reality. For a second life on earth is allowed to no man;\nand were our Lord to live a second human life it were proof He was no\ntrue man, but an anomalous, unaccountable, uninstructive, appearance or\nsimulacrum of a man.\n\nBut though these revelations of God are finished, though complete\nknowledge of God is given in Christ, God comes to the individual still\nthrough the Spirit Whose office it is to take of the things of Christ\nand show them to us. And in doing so the law is observed which we see\nillustrated here. God comes to a man with further encouragement and\nlight for a new step when he has conscientiously used the light he\nalready has. The temper that \"seeks for a sign\" and expects that some\nastounding Providence should be sent to make us religious is by no means\nobsolete. Many seem to expect that before they act on the knowledge they\nhave, they will receive more. They put off giving themselves to the\nservice of God under some kind of impression that some striking event or\nmuch more distinct knowledge is required to give them a decided turn to\na religious life. In so doing they invert God's order. It is when we\nhave conscientiously followed such light as we have, and faithfully done\nall that we know to be right, that God gives us further light. It was\nimmediately on the back of faithful action that Abram received new help\nto his faith.\n\nThe time was seasonable for other reasons. Never did Abram feel more in\nneed of such assurance. He had been successful in his midnight attack\nand had scattered the force from beyond Euphrates, but he knew the\ntemper of these Eastern monarchs well enough to be aware that there was\nnothing they hailed with greater pleasure than a pretext for extending\ntheir conquests and adding to their territory. To Abram it must have\nappeared certain that the next campaigning season would see his country\ninvaded and his little encampment swept away by the Eastern host. Most\nappropriate, therefore, are the words: \"Fear not, Abram: I am thy\nshield.\"\n\nBut another train of thoughts occupied Abram's mind perhaps even more\nunceasingly at this time. After busy engagement comes dulness; after\ntriumph, flatness and sadness. I have pursued kings, got myself a great\nname, led captivity captive. Men are speaking of me in Sodom, and\nfinding that in me they have a useful and important ally. But what is\nall this to my purpose? Am I any nearer my inheritance? I have got all\nthat men might think I needed; they may be unable to understand why now,\nof all times, I should seem heartless; but, O Lord, Thou knowest how\nempty these things seem to me, and what wilt Thou give me? Abram could\nnot understand why he was kept so long waiting. The child given when he\nwas a hundred years old might equally have been given twenty-five years\nbefore, when he first came to the land of Canaan. All Abram's servants\nhad their children, there was no lack of young men born in his\nencampment. He could not leave his tent without hearing the shouts of\nother men's children, and having them cling to his garments--but \"to me\nThou hast given no seed; and lo! one born in mine house, a slave, is\nmine heir.\"\n\nThus it often is that while a man is receiving much of what is generally\nvalued in the world, the one thing he himself most prizes is beyond his\nreach. He has his hope irremovably fixed on something which he feels\nwould complete his life and make him a thoroughly happy man; there is\none thing which, above all else, would be a right and helpful blessing\nto him. He speaks of it to God. For years it has framed a petition for\nitself when no other desire could make itself heard. Back and back to\nthis his heart comes, unable to find rest in anything so long as this is\nwithheld. He cannot help feeling that it is God who is keeping it from\nhim. He is tempted to say, \"What is the use of all else to me, why give\nme things Thou knowest I care little for, and reserve the one thing on\nwhich my happiness depends?\" As Abram might have said; \"Why make me a\ngreat name in the land, when there is no one to keep it alive in men's\nmemories; why increase my possessions when there is none to inherit but\na stranger?\"\n\nIs there then any resulting benefit to character in this so common\nexperience of delayed expectations? In Abram's case there certainly was.\nIt was in these years he was drawn close enough to God to hear Him say,\n\"_I_ am thy exceeding great reward.\" He learned in the multitude of his\ndebatings about God's promise and the delay of its fulfilment, that God\nwas more than all His gifts. He had started as a mere hopeful colonist\nand founder of a family; these twenty-five years of disappointment made\nhim the friend of God and the Father of the Faithful. Slowly do we also\npass from delight in God's gifts to delight in Himself, and often by a\nsimilar experience. From what have you received truest and deepest\npleasure in life? Is it not from your friendships? Not from what your\nfriends have given you or done for you; rather from what you have done\nfor them; but chiefly from your affectionate intercourse. You, being\npersons, must find your truest joy in persons, in personal love,\npersonal goodness and wisdom. But friendship has its crown in the\nfriendship of God. The man who knows God as his friend and is more\ncertain of God's goodness and wisdom and steadfastness than he can be of\nthe worth of the man he has loved and trusted and delighted in from his\nboyhood, the man who is always accompanied by a latent sense of God's\nobservation and love, is truly living in the peace of God that passeth\nunderstanding. This raises him above the touch of worldly losses and\nrestores him in all distresses, even to the surprise of observers; his\nlanguage is, \"There may be many that will say, Who will show us any\ngood? Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon us. _Thou_\nhast put gladness in my heart more than in the time that their corn and\ntheir wine increased.\"\n\nBut evidently there was still another feeling in Abram's heart at this\nparticular point in his career. He could not bear to think he was to\nmiss that very thing which God had promised him. The keen yearning for\nan heir which God's promise had stirred in him was not lost sight of in\nthe great saying, \"_I_ am thy exceeding great reward.\" When he was\njourneying back to his encampment not a shoestring richer than he left,\nand while he heard his men, disappointed of booty, murmuring that he\nshould be so scrupulous, he cannot but have felt some soreness that he\nshould be set before his little world as a man who had the enjoyment\nneither of this world's rewards nor of God. And here must have come the\nstrong temptation that comes to every man: Might it not be as well to\ntake what he could get, to enjoy what was put fairly within his reach,\ninstead of waiting for what seemed so uncertain as God's gift? It is\npainful to be exposed to the observation of others or to our own\nobservation, as persons who, on the one hand, refuse to seek happiness\nin the world's way, and yet are not finding it in God. You have possibly\nwith some magnanimity rejected a tempting offer because there were\nconditions attached to which conscience could not reconcile itself; but\nyou find that you are in consequence suffering greater privations than\nyou expected and that no providential intervention seems to be made to\nreward your conscientiousness. Or you suddenly become aware that though\nyou have for years refused to be mirthful or influential or successful\nor comfortable in the world's way and on the world's terms, you are yet\ngetting no substitute for what you refuse. You will not join the world's\nmirth, but then you are morose and have no joy of any kind. You will not\nuse means you disapprove of for influencing men, but neither have you\nthe influence of a strong Christian character. In fact by giving up the\nworld you seem to have contracted and weakened instead of enlarging and\ndeepening your life.\n\nIn such a condition we can but imitate Abram and cast ourselves more\nresolutely on God. If you find it most weary and painful to deny\nyourself in these special ways which have fallen to be your experience,\nyou can but utter your complaint to God, assured that in Him you will\nfind consideration. He knows why He has called you, why He has given you\nstrength to abandon worldly hopes; He appreciates your adherence to Him\nand He will renew your faith and hope. If day by day you are saying,\n\"Lead Thou me on,\" if you say, \"What wilt Thou give me?\" not in\ncomplaint but in lively expectation, encouragement enough will be yours.\n\nThe means by which Abram's faith was renewed were appropriate. He has\nbeen seeing in the tumult and violence and disappointment of the world\nmuch to suggest the thought that God's promise could never work itself\nout in the face of the rude realities around him. So God leads him out\nand points him to the stars, each one called by his name, and thus\nreminds the Chaldaean who had so often gazed at and studied them in\ntheir silent steady courses, that his God has designs of infinite sweep\nand comprehension; that throughout all space His worlds obey His will\nand all harmoniously play their part in the execution of His vast\ndesign; that we and all our affairs are in a strong hand, but moving in\norbits so immense that small portions of them do not show us their\ndirection and may seem to be out of course. Abram is led out alone with\nthe mighty God, and to every saved soul there comes such a crisis when\nbefore God's majesty we stand awed and humbled, all complaints hushed,\nand indeed our personal interests disappear or become so merged in God's\npurposes that we think only of Him; our mistakes and wrong-doing are\nseen now not so much as bringing misery upon ourselves as interrupting\nand perverting His purposes, and His word comes home to our hearts as\nstable and satisfying.\n\nIt was in this condition that Abram believed God, and He counted it to\nhim for righteousness. Probably if we read this without Paul's\ncommentary on it in the fourth of Romans, we should suppose it meant no\nmore than that Abram's faith, exercised as it was in trying\ncircumstances, met with God's cordial approval. The faith or belief here\nspoken of was a resolute renewal of the feeling which had brought him\nout of Chaldaea. He put himself fairly and finally into God's hand to be\nblessed in God's way and in God's time, and this act of resignation,\nthis resolve that he would not force his own way in the world but would\nwait upon God, was looked upon by God as deserving the name of\nrighteousness, just as much as honesty and integrity in his conduct with\nLot or with his servants. Paul begs us to notice that an act of faith\naccepting God's favour is a very different thing from a work done for\nthe sake of winning God's favour. God's favour is always a matter of\ngrace, it is favour conferred on the undeserving; it is never a matter\nof debt, it is never favour conferred because it has been won. To put\nthis beyond doubt he appeals to this righteousness of Abram's. How, he\nasks, did Abram achieve righteousness? Not by observing ordinances and\ncommandments; for there were none to observe; but by trusting God, by\nbelieving that already without any working or winning of his, God loved\nhim and designed blessedness for him, in short by referring his prospect\nof happiness and usefulness wholly to God and not at all to himself.\nThis is the essential quality of the godly; and having this, Abram had\nthat root which produced all actual righteousness and likeness to God.\n\nIt is sufficiently obvious in such a life as Abram's why faith is the\none thing needful. Faith is required because it is only when a man\nbelieves God's promise and rests in His love that he can co-operate with\nGod in severing himself from iniquitous prospects and in so living for\nspiritual ends as to enter the life and the blessedness God calls him\nto. The boy who does not believe his father, when he comes to him in the\nmidst of his play and tells him he has something for him which will\nplease him still better, suffers the penalty of unbelief by losing what\nhis father would have given him. All missing of true enjoyment and\nblessedness results from unbelief in God's promise. Men do not walk in\nGod's ways because they do not believe in God's ends. They do not\nbelieve that spiritual ends are as substantial and desirable as those\nthat are physical.\n\nAbram's faith is easily recognised, because not only had he not wrought\nfor the blessing God promised him, but it was impossible for him even\nto see how it could be achieved. That which God promised was apparently\nquite beyond the reach of human power. It serves then as an admirable\nillustration of the essence of faith; and Paul uses it as such. It is\nnot because faith is the root of all actual righteousness that Paul\ndescribes it as \"imputed for righteousness.\" It is because faith at once\ngives a man possession of what no amount of working could ever achieve.\nGod now offers in Christ righteousness, that is to say, justification,\nthe forgiveness of sins and acceptance with God with all the fruits of\nthis acceptance, the indwelling Divine Spirit and life everlasting. He\noffers this freely as he offered to Abram what Abram could never have\nwon for himself. And all that we are asked to do is to accept it. This\nis all we are asked to do in order to our becoming the forgiven and\naccepted children of God. After becoming so, there of course remains an\ninfinite amount of service to be rendered, of work to be done, of\nself-discipline to be undergone. But in answer to the awakened sinner's\nenquiry, \"What must I do to be saved,\" Paul replies, \"You are to _do_\nnothing; nothing you can do can win God's favour, because that favour is\nalready yours; nothing you can do can achieve the rectification of your\npresent condition, but Christ has achieved it. Believe that God is with\nyou and that Christ can deliver you and commit yourself cordially to the\nlife you are called to, hopeful that what is promised will be\nfulfilled.\"\n\nAbram's faith cordial as it was, yet was not independent of some\nsensible sign to maintain it. The sign given was twofold: the smoking\nfurnace and a prediction of the sojourn of Abram's posterity in Egypt.\nThe symbols were similar to those by which on other occasions the\npresence of God was represented. Fire, cleansing, consuming, and\nunapproachable, seemed to be the natural emblem of God's holiness. In\nthe present instance it was especially suitable, because the\nmanifestation was made after sundown and when no other could have been\nseen. The cutting up of the carcases and passing between the pieces was\none of the customary forms of contract. It was one of the many devices\nmen have fallen upon to make sure of one another's word. That God should\ncondescend to adopt these modes of pledging Himself to men is\nsignificant testimony to His love; a love so resolved on accomplishing\nthe good of men that it resents no slowness of faith and accommodates\nitself to unworthy suspicions. It makes itself as obvious and pledges\nitself with as strong guarantees to men as if it were the love of a\nmortal whose feelings might change and who had not clearly foreseen all\nconsequences and issues.\n\nThe prediction of the long sojourn of Abram's posterity in Egypt was not\nonly helpful to those who had to endure the Egyptian bondage, but also\nto Abram himself. He no doubt felt the temptation, from which at no time\nthe Church has been free, to consider himself the favourite of heaven\nbefore whose interests all other interests must bow. He is here taught\nthat other men's rights must be respected as well as his, and that not\none hour before absolute justice requires it, shall the land of the\nAmorites be given to his posterity. And that man is considerably past\nthe rudimentary knowledge of God who understands that every act of God\nsprings from justice and not from caprice, and that no creature upon\nearth is sooner or later unjustly dealt with, by the Supreme Ruler. In\nthe life of Abram it becomes visible, how, by living with God and\nwatching for every expression of His will, a man's knowledge of the\nDivine nature enlarges; and it is also interesting to observe that\nshortly after this he grounds all his pleading for Sodom on the truth he\nhad learned here: \"Shall not the Judge of _all the earth_ do right?\"\n\nThe announcement that a long interval must elapse before the promise was\nfulfilled must no doubt have been a shock to Abram; and yet it was\nsobering and educative. It is a great step we take when we come clearly\nto understand that God has a great deal to do with us before we can\nfully inherit the promise. For God's promise, so far from making\neverything in the future easy and bright, is that which above all else\ndiscloses how stern a reality life is; how severe and thorough that\ndiscipline must be which makes us capable of achieving God's purposes\nwith us. A horror of great darkness may well fall upon the man who\nenters into covenant with God, who binds himself to that Being whom no\npain nor sacrifice can turn aside from the pursuance of aims once\napproved. When we look forward and consider the losses, the privations,\nthe self-denials, the delays, the pains, the keen and real discipline,\nthe lowliness of the life to which fellowship with God leads men,\ndarkness and gloom and smoke darken our prospect and discourage us; but\nthe smoke is that which arises from a purifying fire that purges away\nall that prevents us from living spiritually, a darkness very different\nfrom that which settles over the life which amidst much present\nbrightness carries in it the consciousness that its course is downwards,\nthat the blows it suffers are deadening, that its sun is steadily\nnearing its setting and that everlasting night awaits it.\n\nBut over all other feelings this solemn transacting with God must have\nproduced in Abram a humble ecstasy of confidence. The wonderful mercy\nand kindness of God in thus binding Himself to a weak and sinful man\ncannot but have given him new thoughts of God and new thoughts of\nhimself. With fresh elevation of mind and superiority to ordinary\ndifficulties and temptations would he return to his tent that night. In\nhow different a perspective would all things stand to him now that the\nInfinite God had come so near to him. Things which yesterday fretted or\nterrified him seemed now remote: matters which had occupied his thought\nhe did not now notice or remember. He was now the Friend of God, taken\nup into a new world of thoughts and hopes; hiding in his heart the\ntreasure of God's covenant, brooding over the infinite significance and\nhopefulness of his position as God's ally.\n\nFor indeed this was a most extraordinary and a most encouraging event.\nThe Infinite God drew near to Abram and made a contract with him. God as\nit were said to him, I wish you to count upon Me, to make sure of Me: I\ntherefore pledge Myself by these accustomed forms to be your Friend.\n\nBut it was not as an isolated person, nor for his own private interests\nalone that Abram was thus dealt with by God. It was as a medium of\nuniversal blessing that he was taken into covenant with God. The\nkindness of God which he experienced was merely an intimation of the\nkindness all men would experience. The laying aside of unapproachable\ndignity and entrance into covenant with a man was the proclamation of\nHis readiness to be helpful to all and to bring Himself within reach of\nall. That you may have a God at hand He thus brought Himself down to men\nand human ways, that your life may not be vain and useless, dark and\nmisguided, and that you may find that you have a part in a well-ordered\nuniverse in which a holy God cares for all and makes His strength and\nwisdom available for all. Do not allow these intimations of His mercy to\ngo for nothing but use them as intended for your guidance and\nencouragement.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\n_BIRTH OF ISHMAEL._\n\nGENESIS xvi.\n\n\nIn this unpretending chapter we have laid bare to us the origin of one\nof the most striking facts in the history of religion: namely, that from\nthe one person of Abram have sprung Christianity and that religion which\nhas been and still is its most formidable rival and enemy,\nMohammedanism. To Ishmael, the son of Abram, the Arab tribes are proud\nto trace their pedigree. Through him they claim Abram as their father,\nand affirm that they are his truest representatives, the sons of his\nfirst-born. In Mohammed, the Arabian, they see the fulfilment of the\nblessing of Abram, and they have succeeded in persuading a large part of\nthe world to believe along with them. Little did Sarah think when she\npersuaded Abram to take Hagar that she was originating a rivalry which\nhas run with keenest animosity through all ages and which oceans of\nblood have not quenched. The domestic rivalry and petty womanish spites\nand resentments so candidly depicted in this chapter, have actually\nthrown on the world from that day to this one of its darkest and least\nhopeful shadows. The blood of our own countrymen, it may be of our own\nkindred, will yet flow in this unappeasable quarrel. So great a matter\ndoes a little fire kindle. So lasting and disastrous are the issues of\neven slight divergences from pure simplicity.\n\nIt is instructive to observe how long this matter of obtaining an heir\nfor Abram occupies the stage of sacred history and in how many aspects\nit is shown. The stage is rapidly cleared of whatever else might\nnaturally have invited attention, and interest is concentrated on the\nheir that is to be. The risks run by the appointed mother, the doubts of\nthe father, the surrender now of the mother's rights,--all this is\ntrivial if it concerned only one household, important only when you view\nit as significant for the race. It was thus men were taught thoughtfully\nto brood upon the future and to believe that, though Divine, blessing\nand salvation would spring from earth: man was to co-operate with God,\nto recognise himself as capable of uniting with God in the highest of\nall purposes. At the same time, this long and continually deferred\nexpectation of Abram was the simple means adopted by God to convince men\nonce for all that the promised seed is not of nature but of grace, that\nit is God who sends all effectual and determining blessing, and that we\nmust learn to adapt ourselves to His ways and wait upon Him.\n\nThe first man, then, whose religious experience and growth are recorded\nfor us at any length, has this one thing to learn, to trust God's word\nand wait for it. In this everything is included. But gradually it\nappears to us all that this is the great difficulty, to wait; to let God\ntake His own time to bless us. It is hard to believe in God's perfect\nlove and care when we are receiving no present comfort or peace; hard to\nbelieve we shall indeed be sanctified when we seem to be abandoned to\nsinful habit; hard to pass all through life with some pain, or some\ncrushing trouble, or some harassing anxiety, or some unsatisfied\ncraving. It is easy to start with faith, most trying to endure patiently\nto the end. It is thus God educates His children. Compelled to wait for\nsome crowning gift, we cannot but study God's ways. It is thus we are\nforced to look below the surface of life to its hidden meanings and to\nconstrue God's dealings with ourselves apart from the experience of\nother men. It is thus we are taught actually to loosen our hold of\nthings temporal and to lay hold on what is spiritual and real. He who\nleaves himself in God's hand will one day declare that the pains and\nsorrows he suffered were trifling in comparison with what he has won\nfrom them.\n\nBut Sarah could not wait. She seems to have fixed ten years as the\nperiod during which she would wait; but at the expiry of this term she\nconsidered herself justified in helping forward God's tardy providence\nby steps of her own. One cannot severely blame her. When our hearts are\nset upon some definite blessing, things seem to move too slowly and we\ncan scarcely refrain from urging them on without too scrupulously\nenquiring into the character of our methods. We are willing to wait for\na certain time, but beyond that we must take the matter into our own\nhand. This incident shows, what all life shows, that whatever be the\nboon you seek, you do yourself an injury if you cease to seek it in the\nbest possible form and manner, and decline upon some lower thing which\nyou can secure by some easy stratagem of your own.\n\nThe device suggested by Sarah was so common that the wonder is that it\nhad not long before been tried. Jealousy or instinctive reluctance may\nhave prevented her from putting it in force. She might no doubt have\nunderstood that God, always working out His purposes in consistency\nwith all that is most honourable and pure in human conduct, requires of\nno one to swerve a hair's breadth from the highest ideal of what a human\nlife should be, and that just in proportion as we seek the best gifts\nand the most upright and pure path to them does God find it easy to\nbless us. But in her case it was difficult to continue in this belief;\nand at length she resolved to adopt the easy and obvious means of\nobtaining an heir. It was unbelieving and foolish, but not more so than\nour adoption of practices common in our day and in our business which we\nknow are not the best, but which we nevertheless make use of to obtain\nour ends because the most righteous means possible do not seem workable\nin our circumstances. Are you not conscious that you have sometimes used\na means of effecting your purpose, which you would shrink from using\nhabitually, but which you do not scruple to use to tide you over a\ndifficulty, an extraordinary device for an extraordinary emergency, a\nHagar brought in for a season to serve a purpose, not a Sarah accepted\nfrom God and cherished as an eternal helpmeet. It is against this we are\nhere warned. From a Hagar can at the best spring only an Ishmael, while\nin order to obtain the blessing God intends we must betake ourselves to\nGod's barren-looking means.\n\nThe evil consequences of Sarah's scheme were apparent first of all in\nthe tool she made use of. Agur the son of Jakeh says: \"For three things\nthe earth is disquieted, and for four which it cannot bear. For a\nservant when he reigneth, and a fool when he is filled with meat; for an\nodious woman when she is married, and an handmaid that is heir to her\nmistress.\" Naturally this half-heathen girl, when she found that her\nson would probably inherit all Abram's possessions, forgot herself, and\nlooked down on her present, nominal mistress. A flood of new fancies\npossessed her vacant mind and her whole demeanour becomes insulting to\nSarah. The slave-girl could not be expected to sympathize with the\npurpose which Abram and Sarah had in view when they made use of her.\nThey had calculated on finding only the unquestioning, mechanical\nobedience of the slave, even while raising her practically to the\ndignity of a wife. They had fancied that even to the deepest feelings of\nher woman's heart, even in maternal hopes, she would be plastic in their\nhands, their mere passive instrument. But they have entirely\nmiscalculated. The slave has feelings as quick and tender as their own,\na life and a destiny as tenaciously clung to as their God-appointed\ndestiny. Instead of simplifying their life they have merely added to it\nanother source of complexity and annoyance. It is the common fate of all\nwho use others to satisfy their own desires and purposes. The\ninstruments they use are never so soulless and passive as it is wished.\nIf persons cannot serve you without deteriorating in their own\ncharacter, you have no right to ask them to serve you. To use human\nbeings as if they were soulless machines is to neglect radical laws and\nto inflict the most serious injury on our fellow-men. Mistresses who do\nnot treat their servants with consideration, recognising that they are\nas truly women as themselves, with all a woman's hopes and feelings, and\nwith a life of their own to live, are committing a grievous wrong, and\nevil will come of it.\n\nIn such an emergency as now arose in Abram's household, character shows\nitself clearly. Sarah's vexation at the success of her own scheme, her\nrecrimination and appeal for strange justice, her unjustifiable\ntreatment of Hagar, Abram's Bedouin disregard of the jealousies of the\nwomen's tent, his Gallio-like repudiation of judgment in such quarrels,\nhis regretful vexation and shame that through such follies, mistakes,\nand wranglings, God had to find a channel for His promise to flow--all\nthis discloses the painful ferment into which Abram's household was\nthrown. Sarah's attempt to rid herself with a high hand of the\nconsequences of her scheme was signally unsuccessful. In the same\ninconsiderate spirit in which she had put Hagar in her place, she now\nforces her to flee, and fancies that she has now rid herself and her\nhousehold of all the disagreeable consequences of her experiment. She is\ngrievously mistaken. The slave comes back upon her hands, and comes back\nwith the promise of a son who should be a continual trouble to all about\nhim. All through Ishmael's boyhood Abram and Sarah had painfully to reap\nthe fruits of what they had sown. We only make matters worse when we\nendeavour by injustice and harshness to crush out the consequences of\nwrong-doing. The difficulties into which sin has brought us can only be\neffectually overcome by sincere contrition and humiliation. It is not\nall in a moment nor by one happy stroke you can rectify the sin or\nmistake of a moment. If by your wise devices you have begotten young\nIshmaels, if something is every day grieving you and saying to you,\n\"This comes of your careless inconsiderate conduct in the past,\" then\nsee that in your vexation there is real penitence and not a mere\nindignant resentment against circumstances or against other people, and\nsee that you are not actually continuing the fault which first gave\nbirth to your present sorrow and entanglement.\n\nWhen Hagar fled from her mistress she naturally took the way to her old\ncountry. Instinctively her feet carried her to the land of her birth.\nAnd as she crossed the desert country where Palestine, Egypt and Arabia\nmeet, she halted by a fountain, spent with her flight and awed by the\nsolitude and stillness of the desert. Her proud spirit is broken and\ntamed, the fond memories of her adopted home and all its customs and\nways and familiar faces and occupations, overtake her when she pauses\nand her heart reacts from the first excitement of hasty purpose and\nreckless execution. To whom could she go in Egypt? Was there one there\nwho would remember the little slave girl or who would care to show her a\nkindness? Has she not acted madly in fleeing from her only protectors?\nThe desolation around her depicts her own condition. No motion stirs as\nfar as her eye can reach, no bird flies, no leaf trembles, no cloud\nfloats over the scorching sun, no sound breaks the death-like quiet; she\nfeels as if in a tomb, severed from all life, forgotten of all. Her\nspirit is breaking under this sense of desolation, when suddenly her\nheart stands still as she hears a voice utter her own name \"Hagar,\nSarai's maid.\" As readily as every other person when God speaks to them,\ndoes Hagar recognise Who it is who has followed her into this blank\nsolitude. In her circumstances to hear the voice of God left no room for\ndisobedience. The voice of God made audible through the actual\ncircumstances of our daily life acquires a force and an authority we\nnever attached to it otherwise.\n\nProbably, too, Hagar would have gone back to Abram's tents at the\nbidding of a less authoritative voice than this. Already she was\nsoftening and repenting. She but needed some one to say, \"Go back.\" You\nmay often make it easier for a proud man to do a right thing by giving\nhim a timely word. Frequently men stand in the position of Hagar,\nknowing the course they ought to adopt and yet hesitating to adopt it\nuntil it is made easy to them by a wise and friendly word.\n\nIn the promise of a son which was here given to Hagar and the prediction\nconcerning his destiny, while there was enough to teach both her and\nAbram that he was not to be the heir of the promise, there was also much\nto gratify a mother's pride and be to Hagar a source of continual\nsatisfaction. The son was to bear a name which should commemorate God's\nremembrance of her in her desolation. As often as she murmured it over\nthe babe or called it to the child or uttered it in sharp remonstrance\nto the refractory boy, she was still reminded that she had a helper in\nGod who had heard and would hear her. The prediction regarding the child\nhas been strikingly fulfilled in his descendants; the three\ncharacteristics by which they are distinguished being precisely those\nhere mentioned. \"He will be a wild man,\" literally, \"a wild ass among\nmen,\" reminding us of the description of this animal in Job: \"Whose\nhouse I have made the wilderness, and the barren land his dwelling. He\nscorneth the multitude of the city, neither regardeth he the crying of\nthe driver. The range of the mountains is his pasture, and he searcheth\nafter every green thing.\" Like the zebra that cannot be domesticated,\nthe Arab scorns the comforts of civilized life, and adheres to the\nprimitive dress, food, and mode of life, delighting in the sensation of\nfreedom, scouring the deserts, sufficient with his horse and spear for\nevery emergency. His hand also is against every man, looking on all as\nhis natural enemies or as his natural prey; in continual feud of tribe\nagainst tribe and of the whole race against all of different blood and\ndifferent customs. And yet he \"dwells in the presence of his brethren;\"\nthough so warlike a temper would bode his destruction and has certainly\ndestroyed other races, this Ishmaelite stock continues in its own lands\nwith an uninterrupted history. In the words of an authoritative writer:\n\"They have roved like the moving sands of their deserts; but their race\nhas been rooted while the individual wandered. That race has neither\nbeen dissipated by conquest, nor lost by migration, nor confounded with\nthe blood of other countries. They have continued to dwell in the\npresence of all their brethren, a distinct nation, wearing upon the\nwhole the same features and aspects which prophecy first impressed upon\nthem.\"\n\nWhat struck Hagar most about this interview was God's presence with her\nin this remote solitude. She awakened to the consciousness that duty,\nhope, God, are ubiquitous, universal, carried in the human breast, not\nconfined to any place. Her hopes, her haughtiness, her sorrows, her\nflight, were all known. The feeling possessed her which was afterwards\nexpressed by the Psalmist: \"Thou knowest my down-sitting, and mine\nuprising, Thou understandest my thoughts afar off. Thou compassest my\npath and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. Thou\ntellest my wanderings; put Thou my tears in Thy bottle; are they not in\nThy book?\" Even here where I thought to have escaped every eye, have I\nbeen following and at length found Him that seeth me. As truly and even\nmore perceptibly than in Abram's tents, God is with her here in the\ndesert. To evade duty, to leave responsibility behind us, is impossible.\nIn all places we are God's children, bound to accept the\nresponsibilities of our nature. In all places God is with us, not only\nto point out our duty but to give us the feeling that in adhering to\nduty we adhere to Him, and that it is because He values us that He\npresses duty upon us. With Him is no respect of persons; the servant is\nin his sight as vivid a personality as the mistress, and God appears not\nto the overbearing mistress but to the overborne servant.\n\nHappy they who when God has thus met them and sent them back on their\nown footsteps, a long and weary return, have still been so filled with a\nsense of God's love in caring for them through all their errors, that\nthey obey and return. All round about His people does God encamp, all\nround about His flock does the faithful Shepherd watch and drive back\nupon the fold each wanderer. Not only to those who are consciously\nseeking Him does God reveal Himself, but often to us at the very\nfarthest point of our wandering, at our extremity, when another day's\njourney would land us in a region from which there is no return. When\nour regrets for the past become intolerably poignant and bitter; when we\nsee a waste of years behind us barren as the sand of the desert, with\nnothing done but what should but cannot be undone; when the heart is\nstupefied with the sense of its madness and of the irretrievable loss it\nhas sustained, or when we look to the future and are persuaded little\ncan grow up in it out of such a past, when we see that all that would\nhave prepared us for it has been lightly thrown aside or spent\nrecklessly for nought, when our hearts fail us, this is God besetting us\nbehind and before. And may He grant us strength to pray, \"Show me Thy\nways, O Lord, teach me Thy paths. Lead me in Thy truth and teach me:\nfor Thou art the God of my salvation; on Thee do I wait all the day.\"\n\nThe quiet glow of hopefulness with which Hagar returned to Abram's\nencampment should possess the spirit of every one of us. Hagar's\nprospects were not in all respects inviting. She knew the kind of\ntreatment she was likely to receive at the hands of Sarah. She was to be\na bondwoman still. But God had persuaded her of His care and had given\nher a hope large enough to fill her heart. That hope was to be fulfilled\nby a return to the home she had fled from, by a humbling and painful\nexperience. There is no person for whom God has not similar\nencouragement. Frequently persons forget that God is in their life,\nfulfilling His purposes. They flee from what is painful; they lose their\nbearings in life and know not which way to turn; they do not fancy there\nis help for them in God. Yet God is with them; by these very\ncircumstances that reduce them to desolateness and despair He leads them\nto hope in Him. Each one of us has a place in His purpose; and that\nplace we shall find not by fleeing from what is distressing but by\nsubmitting ourselves cheerfully to what He appoints. God's purpose is\nreal, and life is real, meant to accomplish not our present passing\npleasure, but lasting good in conformity with God's purpose. Be sure\nthat when you are bidden back to duties that seem those of a slave, you\nare bidden to them by God, Whose purposes are worthy of Himself and\nWhose purposes include you and all that concerns you.\n\nThere are, I think, few truths more animating than this which is here\ntaught us, that God has a purpose with each of us; that however\ninsignificant we seem, however friendless, however hardly used, however\nousted even from our natural place in this world's households, God has a\nplace for us; that however we lose our way in life we are not lost from\nHis eye; that even when we do not think of choosing Him He in His\nDivine, all-embracing love chooses us, and throws about us bonds from\nwhich we cannot escape. Of Hagar many were complacently thinking it was\nno great matter if she were lost, and some might consider themselves\nrighteous because they said she deserved whatever mishap might befall\nher. But not so God. Of some of us, it may be, others may think no great\nblank would be made by our loss; but God's compassion and care and\npurpose comprehend the least worthy. The very hairs of your head are all\nnumbered by Him. Nothing is so trivial and insignificant as to escape\nHis attention, nothing so intractable that He cannot use it for good.\nTrust in Him, obey Him, and your life will yet be useful and happy.\n\n\n\n\nXIII.\n\n_THE COVENANT SEALED._\n\nGENESIS xvii.\n\n\nAccording to the dates here given fourteen years had passed since Abram\nhad received any intimation of God's will regarding him. Since the\ncovenant had been made some twenty years before, no direct communication\nhad been received; and no message of any kind since Ishmael's birth. It\nneed not, therefore, surprise us that we are often allowed to remain for\nyears in a state of suspense, uncertain about the future, feeling that\nwe need more light and yet unable to find it. All truth is not\ndiscovered in a day, and if that on which we are to found for eternity\ntake us twenty years or a life's experience to settle it in its place,\nwhy should we on this account be overborne with discouragement? They who\nlove the truth and can as little abstain from seeking it as the artist\ncan abstain from admiring what is lovely, will assuredly have their\nreward. To be expectant yet not impatient, unsatisfied yet not\nunbelieving, to hold mind and heart open, assured that light is sown for\nthe upright and that all that is has lessons for the teachable, this is\nour proper attitude.\n\n    Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum\n      Of things for ever speaking,\n    That nothing of itself will come,\n      But we must still be seeking?\n\nWe appreciate the significance of a revelation in proportion as we\nunderstand the state of mind to which it is made. Abram's state of mind\nis disclosed in the exclamation: \"Oh, that Ishmael might live before\nThee!\" He had learned to love the bold, brilliant, domineering boy. He\nsaw how the men liked to serve him and how proud they were of the young\nchief. No doubt his wild intractable ways often made his father anxious.\nSarah was there to point out and exaggerate all his faults and to\nprognosticate mischief. But there he was, in actual flesh and blood,\nfull of life and interest in everything, daily getting deeper into the\naffections of Abram, who allowed and could not but allow his own life to\nrevolve very much around the dashing, attractive lad. So that the\nreminder that he was not the promised heir was not entirely welcome.\nWhen he was told that the heir of promise was to be Sarah's child, he\ncould not repress the somewhat peevish exclamation: \"Oh, that Ishmael\nmight serve Thy turn!\" Why call me off again from this actual attainment\nto the vague, shadowy, non-existent heir of promise, who surely can\nnever have the brightness of eye and force of limb and lordly ways of\nthis Ishmael? Would that what already exists in actual substance before\nthe eye might satisfy Thee and fulfil Thine intention and supersede the\nnecessity of further waiting! Must I again loosen my hold, and part with\nmy chief attainment? Must I cut my moorings and launch again upon this\nocean of faith with a horizon always receding and that seems absolutely\nboundless?\n\nWe are familiar with this state of mind. We wish God would leave us\nalone. We have found a very attractive substitute for what He promises,\nand we resent being reminded that our substitute is not, after all, the\nveritable, eternal, best possession. It satisfies our taste, our\nintellect, our ambition; it sets us on a level with other men and gives\nus a place in the world; but now and again we feel a void it does not\nfill. We have attained comfortable circumstances, success in our\nprofession, our life has in it that which attracts applause and sheds a\nbrilliance over it; and we do not like being told that this is not all.\nOur feeling is Oh, that this might do! that this might be accepted as\nperfect attainment! it satisfies me (all but a little bit); might it not\nsatisfy God? Why summon me again away from domestic happiness,\nintellectual enjoyment, agreeable occupations, to what really seems so\nunattainable as perfect fellowship with God in the fulfilment of His\npromise? Why spend all my life in waiting and seeking for high spiritual\nthings when I have so much with which I can be moderately satisfied? For\nour complaint often is not that God gives so little but that He offers\ntoo much, more than we care to have: that He never will let us be\ncontent with anything short of what perfectly fulfils His perfect love\nand purpose.\n\nThis being Abram's state of mind, he is aroused from it by the words: \"I\nam the Almighty God; walk before Me and be thou perfect.\" I am the\nAlmighty God, able to fulfil your highest hopes and accomplish for you\nthe brightest ideal that ever My words set before you. There is no need\nof paring down the promise till it square with human probabilities, no\nneed of relinquishing one hope it has begotten, no need of adopting some\ninterpretation of it which may make it seem easier to fulfil, and no\nneed of striving to fulfil it in any second-rate way. All possibility\nlies in this: I am the Almighty God. Walk before Me and be thou perfect,\ntherefore. Do not train your eye to earthly distances and earthly\nmagnitudes and limit your hope accordingly, but live in the presence of\nthe Almighty God. Do not defer the advices of conscience and of your\npurest aspirations to some other possible world; do not settle down at\nthe low level of godless nature and of the men around you; do not give\nway to what you yourself know to be weakness and evidence of defeat; do\nnot let self-indulgence take the place of My commandments, indolence\nsupplant resolution and the likelihoods of human calculation obliterate\nthe hopes stirred by the Divine call: Be thou perfect. Is not this a\nsummons that comes appropriately to every man? Whatever be our\ncontentment, our attainments, our possessions, a new light is shed upon\nour condition when we measure it by God's idea and God's resources. Is\nmy life God's ideal? Does that which satisfies me satisfy Him?\n\nThe purpose of God's present appearance to Abram was to renew the\ncovenant, and this He does in terms so explicit, so pregnant, so\nmagnificent that Abram must have seen more distinctly than ever that he\nwas called to play a very special part in God's providence. That kings\nshould spring from him, a mere pastoral nomad in an alien country, could\nnot suggest itself to Abram as a likely thing to happen. Indeed, though\na line of kings or two lines of kings did spring from him through Isaac,\nthe terms of the prediction seem scarcely exhausted by that fulfilment.\nAnd accordingly Paul without hesitation or reserve transfers this\nprediction to a spiritual region, and is at pains to show that the many\nnations of whom Abram was to be the father, were not those who inherited\nhis blood, his natural appearance, his language and earthly inheritance,\nbut those who inherited his spiritual qualities and the heritage in God\nto which his faith gave him entrance. And he argues that no difference\nof race or disadvantages of worldly position can prevent any man from\nserving himself heir to Abram, because the seed, to whom as well as to\nAbram the promise was made, was Christ, and in Christ there is neither\nJew nor Gentile, bond nor free, but all are one.\n\nIn connection then with this covenant in which God promised that He\nwould be a God to Abram and to his seed, two points of interest to us\nemerge. First that Christ is Abram's heir. In His use of God's promise\nwe see its full significance. In His life-long appropriation of God we\nsee what God meant when He said, \"I will be a God to thee and to thy\nseed.\" We find our Lord from the first living as one who felt His life\nencompassed by God, embraced and comprehended in that higher life which\nGod lives through all and in all. His life was all and whole a life in\nGod. He recognised what it is to have a God, one Whose will is supreme\nand unerringly good, Whose love is constant and eternal, Who is the\nfirst and the last, beyond Whom and from under Whom we can never pass.\nHe moved about in the world in so perfectly harmonious a correspondence\nwith God, so merging Himself in God and His purpose and with so\nunhesitating a reliance upon Him, that He seemed and was but a\nmanifestation of God, God's will embodied, God's child, God expressing\nHimself in human nature. He showed us once for all the blessedness of\ntrue dependence, fidelity and faith. He showed us how that simple\npromise 'I will be a God to thee,' received in faith, lifts the human\nlife into fellowship with all that is hopeful and inspiring, with all\nthat is purifying, with all that is real and abiding.\n\nBut a second point is, that Jesus was the heir of Abram not merely\nbecause He was his descendant, a Jew with all the advantages of the\nJew, but because, like Abram, He was full of faith. God was the\natmosphere of His life. But He claimed God not because He was Jewish,\nbut because He was human. Through the Jews God had made Himself known,\nbut it was to what was human not to what was Jewish He appealed. And it\nwas as Son of man not as son of Israel or of Adam that Jesus responded\nto God and lived with Him as His God. Not by specially Jewish rites did\nJesus approach and rest in God, but by what is universal and human, by\nprayer to the Father, by loving obedience, by faith and submission. And\nthus we too may be joint-heirs with Christ and possess God. And if we\nthink of ourselves as left to struggle with natural defects amidst\nirreversible natural laws; if we begin to pray very heartlessly, as if\nHe who once listened were now asleep or could do nothing; if our life\nseems profitless, purposeless, and all unhinged; then let us look back\nto this sure promise of God, that He will be our God: our God, for, if\nChrist's God, then ours, for if we be Christ's then are we Abram's seed\nand heirs according to the promise. How few in any given day are living\non this promise: how few attach reality to God's continuous revelation\nof Himself, the reality in this world's transitory history: how few can\nbelieve in the nearness and observance and love of God, how few can\nstrenuously seek to be holy or understand where abiding happiness is to\nbe found; for all these things are here. Yet who knocks at this door?\nWho makes, as Christ made, his life a unity with God, undismayed,\nunmurmuring, unreluctant, neither fearful of God nor disobedient, but\ndiligent, earnest, jubilant, because God has said, \"I will be thy God.\"\nDo you believe these things and can you forbear to use them? Do you\nbelieve that it is open to you, whosoever you are, to have the Eternal\nand Supreme God for your God, that He may use all His Divine nature in\nyour behalf; have you conceived what it is that God means when He\nextends to you this offer, and can you decline to accept it, can you do\notherwise than cherish it and seek to find more and more in it every day\nyou live?\n\nTwo seals were at this time affixed to the covenant: the one for Abram\nhimself, the other for every one who shared with him in his blessings of\nthe covenant. The first consisted in the change of his own name to\nAbraham, \"the father of a multitude,\" and of his wife's to Sarah,\n\"princess\" or \"queen,\" because she was now announced as the destined\nmother of kings. And however Abraham would be annoyed to see the hardly\nsuppressed smile on the ironical faces of his men as he boldly commanded\nthem to call him by a name whose verification seemed so grievously to\nlag; and however indignant and pained he may have been to hear the young\nIshmael jeering Sarah with her new name, and lending to it every tone of\nmockery and using it with insolent frequency, yet Abraham knew that\nthese names were not given to deceive; and probably as the name of\nAbraham has become one of the best known names on earth, so to himself\ndid it quickly acquire a preciousness as God's voice abiding with him,\nGod's promise renewed to him through every man that addressed him, until\nat length the child of promise lying on his knees took up its first\nsyllable and called him \"Abba.\"\n\nThis seal was special to Abraham and Sarah, the other was public. All\nwho desired to partake with Abraham in the security, hope, and happiness\nof having God as their God, were to submit to circumcision. This sign\nwas to determine who were included in the covenant. By this outward mark\nencouragement and assurance of faith were to be quickened in the heart\nof all Abraham's descendants.\n\nThe mark chosen was significant. It was indeed not distinctive in its\noutward form; so little so that at this day no fewer than one hundred\nand fifty millions of the race make use of the same rite for one purpose\nor other. All the descendants of Ishmael of course continue it, but also\nall who have their religion, that is, all Mohammedans; but besides\nthese, some tribes in South America, some in Australia, some in the\nSouth Sea Islands, and a large number of Kaffir tribes. The ancient\nEgyptians certainly practised it, and it has been suggested that Abraham\nmay have become acquainted with the practice during his sojourn in\nEgypt. It is however uncertain whether the practice in Egypt runs back\nto so early a time. If it were an established Egyptian usage, then of\ncourse Hagar would demand for her boy at the usual age the rite which\nshe had always associated with entrance on a new stage of life. But even\nsupposing this was the case, the rite was none the less available for\nthe new use to which it was now put. The rainbow existed before the\nFlood; bread and wine existed before the night of the Lord's Supper;\nbaptisms of various kinds were practised before the days of the\nApostles. And for this very reason, when God desired a natural emblem of\nthe stability of the seasons He chose a striking feature of nature on\nwhich men were already accustomed to look with pleasure and hope; when\nHe desired symbols of the body and blood of the Redeemer He took those\narticles which already had a meaning as the most efficacious human\nnutriment; when He desired to represent to the eye the renunciation of\nthe old life and the birth to a new life which we have by union with\nChrist, He took that rite which was already known as the badge of\ndiscipleship; and when He desired to impress men by symbol with the\nimpurity of nature and with our dependence on God for the production of\nall acceptable life, He chose that rite which, whether used before or\nnot, did most strikingly represent this.\n\nWith the significance of circumcision to other men who practise it, we\nhave here nothing to do. It is as the chief sacrament of the old\ncovenant, by which God meant to aid all succeeding generations of\nHebrews in believing that God was their God. And this particular mark\nwas given, rather than any other, that they might recognise and ever\nremember that human nature was unable to generate its own Saviour, that\nin man there is a native impurity which must be laid aside when he comes\ninto fellowship with the Holy God. And these circumcised races, although\nin many respects as unspiritual as others, have yet in general perceived\nthat God is different from nature, a Holy Being to Whom we cannot attain\nby any mere adherence to nature, but only by the aid He Himself extends\nto us in ways for which nature makes no provision. The lesson of\ncircumcision is an old one and rudely expressed, but it is vital; and no\nabhorrence of the circumcised for the uncircumcised too strongly,\nhowever unjustly, emphasizes the distinction that actually subsists\nbetween those who believe in nature and those who believe in God.\n\nThe lesson is old, but the circumcision of the heart to which the\noutward mark pointed, is ever required. That is the true seal of our\nfellowship with God; the earnest of the Spirit which gives promise of\neternal union with the Holy One; the relentings, the shame, the\nsoftening of heart, the adoration and reverence for the holiness of God,\nthe thirst for Him, the joy in His goodness, these are the first fruits\nof the Spirit, which lead on to our calling God Father, and feeling that\nto be alone with Him is our happiness. It is this putting aside of our\nnatural confidence in nature and absorption in nature, and this turning\nto God as our confidence and our life, which constitutes the true\ncircumcision of the heart.\n\nBelieving as Abraham was, he could not forbear smiling when God said\nthat Sarah would be the mother of the promised seed. This incredulity of\nAbraham was so significant that it was commemorated in the name of\nIsaac, the laugher. This heir was typical of all God's best gifts, at\nfirst reckoned impossible, at last filling the heart with gladness. The\nsmile of incredulity became the laughter of joy when the child was born\nand Sarah said, \"God hath made me to laugh, so that all that hear will\nlaugh with me.\" It is they who expect things so incongruous and so\nimpossible to nature unaided that they smile even while they believe,\nwho will one day find their hopes fulfilled and their hearts running\nover with joyful laughter. If your heart is fixed only on what you can\naccomplish for yourself, no great joy can ever be yours. But frame your\nactual hopes in accordance with the promise of God, expect holiness,\nfulness of joy, animating partnership with God in the highest matters,\nthe resurrection of the dead, the life everlasting, and one day you will\nsay, \"God hath made me to laugh.\" But Abraham prostrating himself to\nhide a smile is the symbol of our common attitude. We profess to believe\nin a God of unspeakable power and goodness, but even while we do so we\nfind it impossible to attach a sense of reality to His promises. They\nare kindly, well-intentioned words, but are apparently spoken in neglect\nof solid, obstinate facts. How hard is it for us to learn that God is\nthe great reality, and that the reality of all else may be measured by\nits relation to Him.\n\nSarah's laughter had a different meaning. Indeed Sarah does not appear\nto have been by any means a blameless character. Her conduct towards\nHagar showed us that she was a woman capable of generous impulses but\nnot of the strain of continued magnanimous conduct. She was capable of\nyielding her wifely rights on the impulse of the brilliant scheme that\nhad struck her, but like many other persons who can begin a magnanimous\nor generous course of conduct, she could not follow it up to the end,\nbut failed disgracefully in her conduct towards her rival. So now again\nshe betrays characteristic weakness. When the strangers came to\nAbraham's tent, and announced that she was to become a mother, she\nsmiled in superior, self-assured, woman's wisdom. When the promise\nthreatened no longer to hover over her household as a mere sublime and\nexalting idea which serves its purpose if it keep them in mind that God\nhas spoken to them, but to take place now among the actualities of daily\noccurrence, she hails this announcement with a laugh of total\nincredulity. Whatever she had made of God's word, she had not thought it\nwas really and veritably to come to pass; she smiled at the simplicity\nwhich could speak of such an unheard-of thing.\n\nThis is true to human nature. It reminds you how you have dealt with\nGod's promises,--nay, with God's commandments--when they offered to make\nroom for themselves in the everyday life of which you are masters,\nevery detail of which you have arranged, seeming to know absolutely the\nlaws and principles on which your particular line of life must be\ncarried on. Have you never smiled at the simplicity which could set\nabout making actual, about carrying out in practical life, in society,\nin work, in business, those thoughts, feelings and purposes, which God's\npromises beget? Sarah did not laugh outright, but smiled behind the\nLord; she did not mock Him to His face, but let the compassionate\nexpression pass over her face with which we listen to the glowing hopes\nof the young enthusiast who does not know the world. Have we not often\nput aside God's voice precisely thus; saying within us, We know what\nkind of things can be done by us and others and what need not be\nattempted; we know what kind of frailties in social intercourse we must\nput up with, and not seek to amend; what kind of practices it is vain to\nthink of abolishing; we know what use to make of God's promise and what\nuse not to make of it; how far to trust it, and how far to give greater\nweight to our knowledge of the world and our natural prudence and sense?\nDoes not our faith, like Sarah's, vary in proportion as the promise to\nbe believed is unpractical? If the promise seems wholly to concern\nfuture things, we cordially and devoutly assent; but if we are asked to\nbelieve that God intends within the year to do so-and-so, if we are\nasked to believe that the result of God's promise will be found taking a\nsubstantial place among the results of our own efforts--then the\nderisive smile of Sarah forms on our face.\n\nTo look at the crowds of persons professing religion, one would suppose\nnothing was commoner than faith. There is nothing rarer. Devoutness is\ncommon; righteousness of life is common; a contempt for every kind of\nfraud and underhand practice is common; a highminded disregard for this\nworld's gains and glories is common; an abhorrence of sensuality and an\nearnest thirst for perfection are common--but faith? Will the Son of man\nwhen He comes find it on earth? May not the messengers of God yet say,\nWho hath believed our report? Why, the great majority of Christian\npeople have never been near enough to spiritual things to know whether\nthey are or are not, they have never narrowly weighed spiritual issues\nand trembled as they watched the uncertain balance, they say they\nbelieve God and a future of happiness because they really do not know\nwhat they are talking about--they have not measured the magnitude of\nthese things. Faith is not a blind and careless assent to matters of\nindifference, faith is not a state of mental suspense with a hope that\nthings may turn out to be as the Bible says. Faith is the firm\npersuasion that these things are so. And he who at once knows the\nmagnitude of these things and believes that they are so, must be filled\nwith a joy that makes him independent of the world, with an enthusiasm\nwhich must seem to the world like insanity. It is quite a different\nworld in which the man of faith lives.\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\n_ABRAHAM'S INTERCESSION FOR SODOM._\n\nGENESIS xviii.\n\n\nThe scene with which this chapter opens is one familiar to the observer\nof nomad life in the East. During the scorching heat and glaring light\nof noon, while the birds seek the densest foliage and the wild animals\nlie panting in the thicket and everything is still and silent as\nmidnight, Abraham sits in his tent door under the spreading oak of\nMamre. Listless, languid, and dreamy as he is, he is at once aroused\ninto brightest wakefulness by the sudden apparition of three strangers.\nRemarkable as their appearance no doubt must have been, it would seem\nthat Abraham did not recognise the rank of his visitors; it was, as the\nwriter to the Hebrews says, \"unawares\" that he entertained angels. But\nwhen he saw them stand as if inviting invitation to rest, he treated\nthem as hospitality required him to treat any wayfarers. He sprang to\nhis feet, ran and bowed himself to the ground, and begged them to rest\nand eat with him. With the extraordinary, and as it seems to our colder\nnature extravagant courtesy of an Oriental, he rates at the very lowest\nthe comforts he can supply; it is only a little water he can give to\nwash their feet, a morsel of bread to help them on their way, but they\nwill do him a kindness if they accept these small attentions at his\nhands. He gives, however, much more than he offered, seeks out the\nfatted calf and serves while his guests sit and eat. The whole scene is\nprimitive and Oriental, and \"presents a perfect picture of the manner in\nwhich a modern Bedawee Sheykh receives travellers arriving at his\nencampment;\" the hasty baking of bread, the celebration of a guest's\narrival by the killing of animal food not on other occasions used even\nby large flock-masters; the meal spread in the open air, the black tents\nof the encampment stretching back among the oaks of Mamre, every\navailable space filled with sheep, asses, camels,--the whole is one of\nthose clear pictures which only the simplicity of primitive life can\nproduce.\n\nNot only, however, as a suitable and pretty introduction which may\nensure our reading the subsequent narrative is it recorded how\nhospitably Abraham received these three. Later writers saw in it a\npicture of the beauty and reward of hospitality. It is very true,\nindeed, that the circumstances of a wandering pastoral life are\npeculiarly favourable to the cultivation of this grace. Travellers being\nthe only bringers of tidings are greeted from a selfish desire to hear\nnews as well as from better motives. Life in tents, too, of necessity\nmakes men freer in their manners. They have no door to lock, no inner\nrooms to retire to, their life is spent outside, and their character\nnaturally inclines to frankness and freedom from the suspicions, fears,\nand restraints of city life. Especially is hospitality accounted the\nindispensable virtue, and a breach of it as culpable as a breach of the\nsixth commandment, because to refuse hospitality is in many regions\nequivalent to subjecting a wayfarer to dangers and hardships under\nwhich he is almost certain to succumb.\n\n    \"This tent is mine,\" said Yussouf, \"but no more\n    Than it is God's; come in, and be at peace;\n    Freely shalt thou partake of all my store,\n    As I of His Who buildeth over these\n    Our tents His glorious roof of night and day,\n    And at Whose door none ever yet heard Nay.\"\n\nStill we are of course bound to import into our life all the suggestions\nof kindly conduct which any other style of living gives us. And the\nwriter to the Hebrews pointedly refers to this scene and says, \"Let us\nnot be forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have\nentertained angels unawares.\" And often in quite a prosaic and\nunquestionable manner does it become apparent to a host, that the guest\nhe has been entertaining has been sent by God, an angel indeed\nministering to his salvation, renewing in him thoughts that had been\ndying out, filling his home with brightness and life like the smile of\nGod's own face, calling out kindly feelings, provoking to love and to\ngood works, effectually helping him onwards and making one more stage of\nhis life endurable and even blessed. And it is not to be wondered at\nthat our Lord Himself should have continually inculcated this same\ngrace; for in His whole life and by His most painful experience were men\nbeing tested as to who among them would take the stranger in. He who\nbecame man for a little that He might for ever consecrate the dwelling\nof Abraham and leave a blessing in his household, has now become man for\nevermore, that we may learn to walk carefully and reverentially through\na life whose circumstances and conditions, whose little socialities and\nduties, and whose great trials and strains He found fit for Himself for\nservice to the Father. This tabernacle of our human body has by His\npresence been transformed from a tent to a temple, and this world and\nall its ways that He approved, admired, and walked in, is holy ground.\nBut as He came to Abraham trusting to his hospitality, not sending\nbefore him a legion of angels to awe the patriarch but coming in the\nguise of an ordinary wayfarer; so did He come to His own and make His\nentrance among us, claiming only the consideration which He claims for\nthe least of His people, and granting to whoever gave Him _that_ the\ndiscovery of His Divine nature. Had there been ordinary hospitality in\nBethlehem that night before the taxing, then a woman in Mary's condition\nhad been cared for and not superciliously thrust among the cattle, and\nour race had been delivered from the everlasting reproach of refusing\nits God a cradle to be born and sleep His first sleep in, as it refused\nHim a bed to die in, and left chance to provide Him a grave in which to\nsleep His latest sleep. And still He is coming to us all requiring of us\nthis grace of hospitality, not only in the case of every one who asks of\nus a cup of cold water and whom our Lord Himself will personate at the\nlast day and say, \"_I_ was a stranger and ye took Me in;\" but also in\nregard to those claims upon our heart's reception which He only in His\nown person makes.\n\nBut while we are no doubt justified in gathering such lessons from this\nscene, it can scarcely have been for the sake of inculcating hospitality\nthat these angels visited Abraham. And if we ask, Why did God on this\noccasion use this exceptional form of manifesting Himself; why, instead\nof approaching Abraham in a vision or in word as had been found\nsufficient on former occasions, did He now adopt this method of\nbecoming Abraham's guest and eating with him?--the only apparent reason\nis that He meant this also to be the test applied to Sodom. There too\nHis angels were to appear as wayfarers, dependent on the hospitality of\nthe town, and by the people's treatment of these unknown visitors their\nmoral state was to be detected and judged. The peaceful meal under the\noaks of Mamre, the quiet and confidential walk over the hills in the\nafternoon when Abraham in the humble simplicity of a godly soul was\nfound to be fit company for these three--this scene where the Lord and\nHis messengers receive a becoming welcome and where they leave only\nblessing behind them, is set in telling contrast to their reception in\nSodom, where their coming was the signal for the outburst of a brutality\none blushes to think of, and elicited all the elements of a mere hell\nupon earth.\n\nLot would fain have been as hospitable as Abraham. Deeper in his nature\nthan any other consideration was the traditional habit of hospitality.\nTo this he would have sacrificed everything--the rights of strangers\nwere to him truly inviolable. Lot was a man who could as little see\nstrangers without inviting them to his house as Abraham could. He would\nhave treated them handsomely as his uncle; and what he could do he did.\nBut Lot had by his choice of a dwelling made it impossible he should\nafford safe and agreeable lodging to any visitor. He did his best, and\nit was not his reception of the angels that sealed Sodom's doom, and yet\nwhat shame he must have felt that he had put himself in circumstances in\nwhich his chief virtue could not be practised. So do men tie their own\nhands and cripple themselves so that even the good they would take\npleasure in doing is either wholly impossible or turns to evil.\n\nIn divulging to Abraham His purpose in visiting Sodom, it is enounced\nhere that God acted on a principle which seems afterwards to have become\nalmost proverbial. Surely the Lord will do nothing but He revealeth His\nsecret unto His servants the prophets. There are indeed two grounds\nstated for making known to Abraham this catastrophe. The reason that we\nshould naturally expect, viz. that he might go on and warn Lot is not\none of them. Why then make any announcement to Abraham if the\ncatastrophe cannot be averted, and if Abraham is to turn back to his own\nencampment? The first reason is: \"Shall I hide from Abraham that thing\nwhich I do? _Seeing that Abraham_ shall surely become a great and mighty\nnation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him.\" In\nother words, Abraham has been made the depository of a blessing for all\nnations, and account must therefore be given to him when any people is\nsummarily removed beyond the possibility of receiving this blessing. If\na man has got a grant for the emancipation of the slaves in a certain\ndistrict, and is informed on landing to put this grant in force that\nfifty slaves are to be executed that day, he has certainly a right to\nknow and he will inevitably desire to know that this execution is to be,\nand why it is to be. When an officer goes to negotiate an exchange of\nprisoners, if two of the number cannot be exchanged, but are to be shot,\nhe must be informed of this and account of the matter must be given him.\nAbraham often brooding on God's promise, living indeed upon it, must\nhave felt a vague sympathy with all men, and a sympathy not at all\nvague, but most powerful and practical with the men in the Jordan valley\nwhom he had rescued from Chedorlaomer. If he was to be a blessing to any\nnation it must surely be to those who were within an afternoon's walk of\nhis encampment and among whom his nephew had taken up his abode.\nSuppose he had not been told, but had risen next morning and seen the\ndense cloud of smoke overhanging the doomed cities, might he not with\nsome justice have complained that although God had spoken to him the\nprevious day, not one word of this great catastrophe had been breathed\nto him.\n\nThe second reason is expressed in the nineteenth verse; God had chosen\nAbraham that he might command his children and his household after him\nto keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment that the Lord\nmight fulfil His promise to Abraham. That is to say, as it was only by\nobedience and righteousness that Abraham and his seed were to continue\nin God's favour, it was fair that they should be encouraged to do so by\nseeing the fruits of unrighteousness. So that as the Dead Sea lay\nthroughout their whole history on their borders reminding them of the\nwages of sin, they might never fail rightly to interpret its meaning,\nand in every great catastrophe read the lesson \"except ye repent ye\nshall all likewise perish.\" They could never attribute to chance this\npredicted judgment. And in point of fact frequent and solemn reference\nwas made to this standing monument of the fruit of sin.\n\nAs yet there was no moral law proclaimed by any external authority.\nAbraham had to discover what justice and goodness were from the dictates\nof his own conscience and from his observation upon men and things. But\nhe was at all events persuaded that only so long as he and his sought\nhonestly to live in what they considered to be righteousness would they\nenjoy God's favour. And they read in the destruction of Sodom a clear\nintimation that certain forms of wickedness were detestable to God.\n\nThe earnestness with which Abraham intercedes for the cities of the\nplain reveals a new side of his character. One could understand a strong\ndesire on his part that Lot should be rescued, and no doubt the\npreservation of Lot formed one of his strongest motives to intercede,\nyet Lot is never named, and it is, I think, plain that he had more than\nthe safety of Lot in view. He prayed that the city might be spared, not\nthat the righteous might be delivered out of its ruin. Probably he had a\nlively interest in the people he had rescued from captivity, and felt a\nkind of protectorate over them as he sometimes looked down on them from\nthe hills near his own tents. He pleads for them as he had fought for\nthem, with generosity, boldness and perseverance; and it was his\nboldness and unselfishness in fighting for them that gave him boldness\nin praying for them.\n\nThere has come into vogue in this country a kind of intercession which\nis the exact reverse of this of Abraham--an obtuse, mechanical\nintercession about whose efficacy one may cherish a reasonable\nsuspicion. The Bible and common sense bid us pray with the Spirit and\nwith the _understanding_; but at some meetings for prayer you are asked\nto pray for people you do not know and have no real interest in. You are\nnot told even their names, so that if an answer is sent you could not\nidentify the answer, nor is any clue given you by which if God should\npropose to use you for their help you could know where the help was to\nbe applied. For all you know the slip of paper handed in among a score\nof others may misrepresent the circumstances; and even supposing it does\nnot, what likeness to the effectual fervent prayer of an anxious man has\nthe petition that is once read in your hearing and at once and for ever\nblotted from your mind by a dozen others of the same kind. Not so did\nAbraham pray: he prayed for those he knew and had fought for; and I see\nno warrant for expecting that our prayers will be heard for persons\nwhose good we seek in no other way than prayer, in none of those ways\nwhich in all other matters our conduct proves we judge more effectual\nthan prayer. When Lot was carried captive Abraham did not think it\nenough to put a petition for him in his evening prayer. He went and\n_did_ the needful thing, so that now when there is nothing else he can\ndo but pray, he intercedes, as few of us can without self-reproach or\nfeeling that had we only done our part there might now be no need of\nprayer. What confidence can a parent have in praying for a son who is\ngoing to a country where vice abounds, if he has done little or nothing\nto infix in his boy's mind a love of virtue? In some cases the very\npersons who pray for others are themselves the obstacles preventing the\nanswer. Were we to ask ourselves how much we are prepared to do for\nthose for whom we pray, we should come to a more adequate estimate of\nthe fervency and sincerity of our prayers.\n\nThe element in Abraham's intercession that jars on the reader is the\ntrading temper that strives always to get the best possible terms.\nAbraham seems to think God can be beaten down and induced to make\nsmaller and smaller demands. No doubt this style of prayer was suggested\nto Abraham by the statement on God's part that He was going to Sodom to\nsee if its iniquity was so great as it was reported; that is, to number,\nas it were, the righteous men in it. Abraham seizes upon this and asks\nif He would not spare it if fifty were found in it. But Abraham knowing\nSodom as he did could not have supposed this number would be found.\nFinding, then, that God meets him so far, he goes on step by step\ngetting larger in his demands, until when he comes to ten he feels that\nto go farther would be intolerably presumptuous. Along with this\naudacious beating down of God, there is a genuine and profound reverence\nand humility which at each renewal of the petition dictate some such\nexpression as: \"I who am but dust and ashes,\" \"Let not my Lord be\nangry.\"\n\nIt is remarkable too that, throughout, it is for justice Abraham pleads,\nand for justice of a limited and imperfect kind. He proceeds on the\nassumption that the town will be judged as a town, and either wholly\nsaved or wholly destroyed. He has no idea of individual discrimination\nbeing made, those only suffering who had sinned. And yet it is this\nprinciple of discrimination on which God ultimately proceeds, rescuing\nLot. Yet is not this intercession the history of what every one who\nprays passes through, beginning with the idea that God is to be won over\nto more liberal views and a more munificent intention, and ending with\nthe discovery that God gives what we should count it shameless audacity\nto ask? We begin to pray,\n\n    \"As if ourselves were better certainly\n    Than what we come to--Maker and High Priest\"\n\nand we leave off praying assured that the whole is to be managed by a\nrighteousness and love and wisdom, which we cannot plan for, which any\nlove or desire of ours would only limit the action of, and which must be\nleft to work out its own purposes in its own marvellous ways. We begin,\nfeeling that we have to beat down a reluctant God and that we can guide\nthe mind of God to some better thing than He intends: when the answer\ncomes we recognise that what we set as the limit of our expectation God\nhas far over-stepped, and that our prayer has done little more than show\nour inadequate conception of God's mercy.\n\nNot only in this respect but throughout this chapter there is betrayed\nan inadequate conception of God. The language is adapted to the use of\nmen who are as yet unable to conceive of one Infinite, Eternal Spirit.\nThey think of Him as one who needs to come down and institute an inquiry\ninto the state of Sodom, if He is to know with accuracy the moral\ncondition of its inhabitants. We can freely use the same language, but\nwe put into it a meaning that the words do not literally bear: Abraham\nand his contemporaries used and accepted the words in their literal\nsense. And yet the man who had ideas of God in some respects so\nrudimentary was God's Friend, received singular tokens of His favour,\nfound His whole life illuminated with His presence, and was used as the\npoint of contact between heaven and earth, so that if you desire the\nfirst lessons in the knowledge of God which will in time grow into full\ninformation, it is to the tent of Abraham, you must go. This surely is\nencouraging; for who is not conscious of much difficulty in thinking\nrightly of God? Who does not feel that precisely here, where the light\nshould be brightest, clouds and darkness seem to gather? It may indeed\nbe said that what was excusable in Abraham is inexcusable in us; that we\nhave that day, that full noon of Christ to which he could only, out of\nthe dusky dawn, look forward. But after all may not a man with some\njustice say: Give me an afternoon with God, such as Abraham had; give me\nthe opportunity of converse with a God submitting Himself to question\nand answer, to those means and instruments of ascertaining truth which I\ndaily employ in other matters, and I will ask no more? Christ has given\nus entrance into the final stage of our knowledge of God, teaching us\nthat God is a Spirit and that we cannot see the Father; that Christ\nHimself left earth and withdrew from the bodily eye that we might rely\nmore upon spiritual modes of apprehension and think of God as a Spirit.\nBut we are not at all times able to receive this teaching, we are\nchildren still and fall back with longing for the times when God walked\nand spoke with man. And this being so, we are encouraged by the\nexperience of Abraham. We shall not be disowned by God though we do not\nknow Him perfectly. We can but begin where we are, not pretending that\nthat is clear and certain to us which in fact is not so, but freely\ndealing with God according to the light we have, hoping that we too,\nlike Abraham, shall see the day of Christ and be glad; shall one day\nstand in the full light of ascertained and eternal truth, knowing as we\nare known.\n\nIn conclusion, we shall find when we read the following chapter, and\nespecially the prayer of Lot that he might not be driven to the wild\nmountain district, but might occupy the little town of Zoar which was\nsaved for his sake--we shall find, that much light is reflected on this\nprayer of Abraham. Without trenching on what may be more fitly spoken of\nafterwards, it may now be observed that the difference between Lot and\nAbraham, as between man and man generally, comes out nowhere more\nstrikingly than in their prayers. Abraham had never prayed for himself\nwith a tithe of the persistent earnestness with which he prays for\nSodom--a town which was much indebted to him, but towards which for\nmore reasons than one a smaller man would have borne a grudge. Lot, on\nthe other hand, much indebted to Sodom, identified indeed with it, one\nof its leading citizens, connected by marriage with its inhabitants, is\nin no agony about its destruction, and has indeed but one prayer to\noffer, and that is, that when all his fellow-townsmen are destroyed, he\nmay be comfortably provided for. While the men he has bargained and\nfeasted with, the men he has made money out of and married his daughters\nto, are in the agonies of an appalling catastrophe and so near that the\nsmoke of their torment sweeps across his retreat, he is so disengaged\nfrom regrets and compassion that he can nicely weigh the comparative\ncomfort and advantage of city and rural life. One would have thought\nbetter of the man if he had declined the angelic rescue and resolved to\nstand by those in death whose society he had so coveted in life. And it\nis significant that while the generous, large-hearted, devout pleading\nof Abraham is in vain, the miserable, timorous, selfish petition of Lot\nis heard and answered. It would seem as if sometimes God were hopeless\nof men, and threw to them in contempt the gifts they crave, giving them\nthe poor stations in this life their ambition is set upon, because He\nsees they have made themselves incapable of enduring hardness, and so\nquelling their lower nature. An answered prayer is not always a\nblessing, sometimes it is a doom: \"He sent them meat to the full: but\nwhile their meat was yet in their mouths, the wrath of God came upon\nthem and slew the fattest of them.\"\n\nProbably had Lot felt any inclination to pray for his townsmen he would\nhave seen that for him to do so would be unseemly. His circumstances,\nhis long association with the Sodomites, and his accommodation of\nhimself to their ways had both eaten the soul out of him and set him on\nquite a different footing towards God from that occupied by Abraham. A\nman cannot on a sudden emergency lift himself out of the circumstances\nin which he has been rooted, nor peel off his character as if it were\nonly skin deep. Abraham had been living an unworldly life in which\nintercourse with God was a familiar employment. His prayer was but the\nseasonable flower of his life, nourished to all its beauty by the\nhabitual nutriment of past years. Lot in his need could only utter a\npeevish, pitiful, childish cry. He had aimed all his life at being\ncomfortable, he could not now wish anything more than to be comfortable.\n\"Stand out of my sunshine,\" was all he could say, when he held by the\nhand the plenipotentiary of heaven, and when the roar of the conflict of\nmoral good and evil was filling his ears--a decent man, a righteous man,\nbut the world had eaten out his heart till he had nothing to keep him in\nsympathy with heaven.\n\nSuch is the state to which men in our society, as in Sodom, are brought\nby risking their spiritual life to make the most of this world.\n\n\n\n\nXV.\n\n_DESTRUCTION OF THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN._\n\nGENESIS xix.\n\n\nWhile Abraham was pleading with the Lord the angels were pursuing their\nway to Sodom. And in doing so they apparently observed the laws of those\nhuman forms which they had assumed. They did not spread swift wings and\nalight early in the afternoon at the gates of the city; but taking the\nusual route, they descended from the hills which separated Abraham's\nencampment from the plain of the Jordan, and as the sun was setting\nreached their destination. In the deep recess which is found at either\nside of the gateway of an Eastern city, Lot had taken his accustomed\nseat. Wearied and vexed with the din of the revellers in the street, and\noppressed with the sultry doom-laden atmosphere, he was looking out\ntowards the cool and peaceful hills, purple with the sinking sun behind\nthem, and letting his thoughts first follow and then outrun his eye; he\nwas now picturing and longing for the unseen tents of Abraham, and\nalmost hearing the cattle lowing round at evening and all the old sounds\nhis youth had made familiar.\n\nHe is recalled to the actual present by the footfall of the two men, and\nlittle knowing the significance of his act, invites them to spend the\nnight under his roof. It has been observed that the historian seems to\nintend to bring out the quietness and the ordinary appearance of the\nentire circumstances. All goes on as usual. There is nothing in the\nsetting sun to say that for the last time it has shone on these rich\nmeadows, or that in twelve hours its rising will be dimmed by the smoke\nof the burning cities. The ministers of so appalling a justice as was\nhere displayed enter the city as ordinary travellers. When a crisis\ncomes, men do not suddenly acquire an intelligence and insight they have\nnot habitually cultivated. They cannot suddenly put forth an energy nor\nexhibit an apt helpfulness which only character can give. When the test\ncomes, we stand or fall not according to what we would wish to be and\nnow see the necessity of being, but according to what former\nself-discipline or self-indulgence has made us.\n\nHow then shall this angelic commission of enquiry proceed? Shall it call\ntogether the elders of Sodom--or shall it take Lot outside the city and\ncross-examine him, setting down names and dates and seeking to come to a\nfair judgment. Not at all--there is a much surer way of detecting\ncharacter than by any process of examination by question and answer. To\neach of us God says:\n\n    \"Since by its _fruit_ a tree is judged,\n    Show me thy fruit, the _latest act_ of thine!\n    For in the _last_ is summed the first, and all,--\n    What thy life last put heart and soul into,\n    There shall I taste thy product.\"\n\nIt is thus these angels proceed. They do not startle the inhabitants of\nSodom into any abnormal virtue nor present opportunity for any unwonted\niniquity. They give them opportunity to act in their usual way. Nothing\ncould well be more ordinary than the entrance to the city of two\nstrangers at sunset. There is nothing in this to excite, to throw men\noff their guard, to overbalance the daily habit, or give exaggerated\nexpression to some special feature of character. It is thus we are all\njudged--by the insignificant circumstances in which we act without\nreflection, without conscious remembrance of an impending judgment, with\nheart and soul and full enjoyment.\n\nFirst Lot is judged. Lot's character is a singularly mixed one. With all\nhis selfishness, he was hospitable and public-spirited. Lover of good\nliving, as undoubtedly he was, his courage and strength of character are\nyet unmistakable. His sitting at the gate in the evening to offer\nhospitality may fairly be taken as an indication of his desire to screen\nthe wickedness of his townsmen, and also to shield the stranger from\ntheir brutality. From the style in which the mob addressed him, it is\nobvious that he had made himself offensive by interfering to prevent\nwrong-doing. He was nicknamed \"the Censor,\" and his eye was felt to\ncarry condemnation. It is true there is no evidence that his opposition\nhad been of the slightest avail. How could it avail with men who knew\nperfectly well that with all his denunciation of their wicked ways, he\npreferred their money-making company to the desolation of the hills,\nwhere he would be vexed with no filthy conversation, but would also find\nno markets? Still it is to Lot's credit that in such a city, with none\nto observe, none to applaud, and none to second him, he should have been\nable to preserve his own purity of life and steadily to resist\nwrong-doing. It would be cynical to say that he cultivated austerity and\nrenounced popular vices as a salve to a conscience wounded by his own\ngreed.\n\nThat he had the courage which lies at the root of strength of character\nbecame apparent as the last dark night of Sodom wore on. To go out among\na profligate, lawless mob, wild with passion and infuriated by\nopposition--to go out and shut the door behind him--was an act of true\ncourage. His confidence in the influence he had gained in the town\ncannot have blinded him to the temper of the raging crowd at his door.\nTo defend his unknown guests he put himself in a position in which men\nhave frequently lost life.\n\nIn the first few hours of his last night in Sodom, there is much that is\nadmirable and pathetic in Lot's conduct. But when we have said that he\nwas bold and that he hated other men's sins, we have exhausted the more\nattractive side of his character. The inhuman collectedness of mind with\nwhich, in the midst of a tremendous public calamity, he could scheme for\nhis own private well-being is the key to his whole character. He had no\nfeeling. He was cold-blooded, calculating, keenly alive to his own\ninterest, with all his wits about him to reap some gain to himself out\nof every disaster; the kind of man out of whom wreckers are made, who\ncan with gusto strip gold rings off the fingers of doomed corpses; out\nof whom are made the villains who can rifle the pockets of their dead\ncomrades on a battlefield, or the politicians who can still ride on the\ntop of the wave that hurls their country on the rocks. When Abraham gave\nhim his choice of a grazing ground, no rush of feeling, no sense of\ngratitude, prevented him from making the most of the opportunity. When\nhis house was assailed, he had coolness, when he went out to the mob, to\nshut the door behind him that those within might not hear his bargain.\nWhen the angel, one might almost say, was flurried by the impending and\nterrible destruction, and was hurrying him away, he was calm enough to\ntake in at a glance the whole situation and on the spot make provision\nfor himself. There was no need to tell him not to look back as his wife\ndid: no deep emotion would overmaster him, no unconquerable longing to\nsee the last of his dear friends in Sodom would make him lose one second\nof his time. Even the loss of his wife was not a matter of such\nimportance as to make him forget himself and stand to mourn. In every\nrecorded act of his life appears this same unpleasant characteristic.\n\nBetween Lot and Judas there is an instructive similarity. Both had\nsufficient discernment and decision of character to commit themselves to\nthe life of faith, abandoning their original residence and ways of life.\nBoth came to a shameful end, because the motive even of the sacrifices\nthey made was self-interest. Neither would have had so dark a career had\nhe more justly estimated his own character and capabilities, and not\nattempted a life for which he was unfit. They both put themselves into a\nfalse position; than which nothing tends more rapidly to deteriorate\ncharacter. Lot was in a doubly false position, because in Sodom as well\nas in Abraham's shifting camp he was out of place. He voluntarily bound\nhimself to men he could not love. One side of his nature was paralysed;\nand that the side which in him especially required development. It is\nthe influence of home life, of kindly surroundings, of friendships, of\ncongenial employment, of everything which evokes the free expression of\nwhat is best in us; it is this which is a chief factor in the\ndevelopment of every man. But instead of the genial and fertilising\ninfluence of worthy friendships, and ennobling love, Lot had to pretend\ngood-will where he felt none, and deceit and coldness grew upon him in\nplace of charity. Besides, a man in a false position in life, out of\nwhich he can by any sacrifice deliver himself, is never at peace with\nGod until he does deliver himself. And any attempt to live a righteous\nlife with an evil conscience is foredoomed to failure.\n\nAnd if it still be felt that Lot was punished with extreme severity, and\nthat if every man who chose a good grazing ground or a position in life\nwhich was likely to advance his fortune were thereby doomed to end his\ndays in a cave and under the darkest moral brand, society would be quite\ndisintegrated, it must be remembered, that in order to advance his\ninterests in life, Lot sacrificed much that a man is bound by all means\nto cherish; and further, it must be said that our destinies are thus\ndetermined. The whole iniquity and final consequences of our disposition\nare not laid before us in the mass; but to give the rein to any evil\ndisposition is to yield control of our own life and commit ourselves to\nguidance which cannot result in good, and is of a nature to result in\nutter shame and wretchedness.\n\nTurning from the rescued to the destroyed, we recognise how sufficient a\ntest of their moral condition the presence of the angels was. The\ninhabitants of Sodom quickly afford evidence that they are ripe for\njudgment. They do nothing worse than their habitual conduct led them to\ndo. It is not for this one crime they are punished; its enormity is only\nthe legible instance which of itself convicts them. They are not aware\nof the frightful nature of the crime they seek to commit. They fancy it\nis but a renewal of their constant practice. They rush headlong on\ndestruction and do not know it. How can it be otherwise? If a man _will\nnot_ take warning, if he will persist in sin, then the day comes when he\nis betrayed into iniquity the frightful nature of which he did not\nperceive, but which is the natural result of the life he has led. He\ngoes on and will not give up his sin till at last the final damning act\nis committed which seals his doom. Character tends to express itself in\none perfectly representative act. The habitual passion, whatever it is,\nis always alive and seeking expression. Sometimes one consideration\nrepresses it, sometimes another; but these considerations are not\nconstant, while the passion is, and must therefore one day find its\nopportunity--its opportunity not for that moderate, guarded, disguised\nexpression which passes without notice, but for the full utterance of\nits very essence. So it was here, the whole city, small and great, young\nand old, from every quarter came together unanimous and eager in\nprosecuting the vilest wickedness. No further investigation or proof was\nneeded: it has indeed passed into a proverb: \"they _declare_ their sin\nas Sodom.\"\n\nTo punish by a special commission of enquiry is quite unusual in God's\ngovernment. Nations are punished for immorality or for vicious\nadministration of law or for neglect of sanitary principles by the\noperation of natural laws. That is to say, there is a distinctly\ntraceable connection between the crime and its punishment; the one being\nthe natural cause of the other. That nations should be weakened,\ndepopulated, and ultimately sink into insignificance, is the natural\nresult of a development of the military spirit of a country and the love\nof glory. That a population should be decimated by cholera or small-pox\nis the inevitable result of neglecting intelligible laws of health. It\nseems to me absurd to put this destruction of Sodom in the same\ncategory. The descent of meteoric stones from the sky is not the natural\nresult of immorality. The vices of these cities have disastrous national\nresults which are quite legibly written in some races existing in the\npresent day. We have here to do not with what is natural but with what\nis miraculous. Of course it is open to any one to say, \"It was merely\naccidental--it was a mere coincidence that a storm of lightning so\nviolent as to set fire to the bituminous soil should rage in the valley,\nwhile on the hills a mile or two off all was serene; it was a mere\ncoincidence that meteoric stones or some instrument of conflagration\nshould set on fire just these cities, not only one of them but four of\nthem, and no more.\" And certainly were there nothing more to go upon\nthan the fact of their destruction, this coincidence, however\nextraordinary, must still be admitted as wholly natural, and having no\nrelation to the character of the people destroyed. It might be set down\nas pure accident, and be classed with storms at sea, or volcanic\neruptions, which are due to physical causes and have no relation to the\nmoral character of those involved, but indiscriminately destroy all who\nhappen to be present.\n\nBut we have to account not only for the fact of the destruction but for\nits prediction both to Abraham and to Lot. Surely it is only reasonable\nto allow that such prediction was supernatural; and the prediction being\nso, it is also reasonable to accept the account of the event given by\nthe predicters of it, and understand it not as an ordinary physical\ncatastrophe, but as an event contrived with a view to the moral\ncharacter of those concerned, and intended as an infliction of\npunishment for moral offences. And before we object to a style of\ndealing with nations so different from anything we now detect, we must\nbe sure that a quite different style of dealing was not at that time\nrequired. If there is an intelligent training of the world, it must\nfollow the same law which requires that a parent deal in one way with\nhis boy of ten and in another with his adult son.\n\nOf Lot's wife the end is recorded in a curt and summary fashion. \"His\nwife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.\" The\nangel, knowing how closely on the heels of the fugitives the storm would\npress, had urgently enjoined haste, saying, \"Look not behind thee,\nneither stay thou in all the plain.\" Rapid in its pursuit as a prairie\nfire, it was only the swift who could escape it. To pause was to be\nlost. The command, \"Look not behind thee\" was not given because the\nscene was too awful to behold for what men can endure, men may behold,\nand Abraham looked upon it from the hill above. It was given simply from\nthe necessity of the case and from no less practical and more arbitrary\nreason. Accordingly when the command was neglected, the consequence was\nfelt. Why the infatuated woman looked back one can only conjecture. The\nwoful sounds behind her, the roar of the flame and of Jordan driven\nback, the crash of falling houses and the last forlorn cry of the doomed\ncities, all the confused and terrific din that filled her ear, may well\nhave paralysed her and almost compelled her to turn. But the use our\nLord makes of her example shows us that He ascribed her turning to a\ndifferent motive. He uses her as a warning to those who seek to save out\nof the destruction more than they have time to save, and so lose all.\n\"He which shall be on the housetop, and his stuff in the house, let him\nnot come down to take it away; and he that is in the field, let him\nlikewise not return back. Remember Lot's wife.\" It would seem, then, as\nif our Lord ascribed her tragic fate to her reluctance to abandon her\nhousehold stuff. She was a wife after Lot's own heart, who in the midst\nof danger and disaster had an eye to her possessions. The smell of fire,\nthe hot blast in her hair, the choking smoke of blazing bitumen,\nsuggested to her only the thought of her own house decorations, her\nhangings, and ornaments, and stores. She felt keenly the hardship of\nleaving so much wealth to be the mere food of fire. The thought of such\nintolerable waste made her more breathless with indignation than her\nrapid flight. Involuntarily as she looks at the bleak, stony mountains\nbefore her, she thinks of the rich plain behind; she turns for one last\nlook, to see if it is impossible to return, impossible to save anything\nfrom the wreck. The one look transfixes her, rivets her with dismay and\nhorror. Nothing she looked for can be seen; all is changed in wildest\nconfusion. Unable to move, she is overtaken and involved in the\nsulphurous smoke, the bitter salts rise out of the earth and stifle her\nand encrust around her and build her tomb where she stands.\n\nLot's wife by her death proclaims that if we crave to make the best of\nboth worlds, we shall probably lose both. Her disposition is not rare\nand exceptional as the pillar of salt which was its monument. She is not\nthe only woman whose heart is so fixedly set upon her household\npossessions that she cannot listen to the angel-voices that would guide\nher. Are there none but Lot's wife who show that to them there is\nnothing so important, nothing else indeed to live for at all, but the\nmanagement of a house and the accumulation of possessions? If all who\nare of the same mind as Lot's wife shared her fate the world would\npresent as strange a spectacle as the Dead Sea presents at this day. For\nradically it was her divided mind which was her ruin. She had good\nimpulses, she saw what she ought to do, but she did not do it with a\nmind made up. Other things divided her thoughts and diverted her\nefforts. What else is it ruins half the people who suppose themselves\nwell on the way of life? The world is in their heart; they cannot pursue\nwith undivided mind the promptings of a better wisdom. Their heart is\nwith their treasure, and their treasure is really not in spiritual\nexcellence, not in purity of character, not in the keen bracing air of\nthe silent mountains where God is known, but in the comforts and gains\nof the luxurious plain behind.\n\nWe are to remember Lot's wife that we may bear in mind how possible it\nis that persons who promise well and make great efforts and bid fair to\nreach a place of safety may be overtaken by destruction. We can perhaps\ntell of exhausting effort, we may have outstripped many in practical\nrepentance, but all this may only be petrified by present carelessness\ninto a monument recording how nearly a man may be saved and yet be\ndestroyed. \"Have ye suffered all these things in vain, if it be yet in\nvain?\" \"Ye have run well, what now hinders you?\" The question always is,\nnot, what have you done, but what are you now doing? Up to the site of\nthe pillar, Lot's wife had done as well as Lot, had kept pace with the\nangels; but her failure at that point destroyed her.\n\nThe same urgency may not be felt by all; but it should be felt by all to\nwhose conscience it has been distinctly intimated that they have become\ninvolved in a state of matters which is ruinous. If you are conscious\nthat in your life there are practices which may very well issue in moral\ndisaster, an angel has taken you by the hand and bid you flee. For you\nto delay is madness. Yet this is what people will do. Sagacious men of\nthe world, even when they see the probability of disaster, cannot bear\nto come out with loss. They will always wait a little longer to see if\nthey cannot rescue something more, and so start on a fresh course with\nless inconvenience. They will not understand that it is better to live\nbare and stripped with a good conscience and high moral achievement,\nthan in abundance with self-contempt. What they have, always seems more\nto them than what they are.\n\n\n\n\nXVI.\n\n_SACRIFICE OF ISAAC._\n\nGENESIS xxii.\n\n\nThe sacrifice of Isaac was the supreme act of Abraham's life. The faith\nwhich had been schooled by so singular an experience and by so many\nminor trials was here perfected and exhibited as perfect. The strength\nwhich he had been slowly gathering during a long and trying life was\nhere required and used. This is the act which shines like a star out of\nthose dark ages, and has served for many storm-tossed souls over whom\nGod's billows have gone, as a mark by which they could still shape their\ncourse when all else was dark. The devotedness which made the sacrifice,\nthe trust in God that endured when even such a sacrifice was demanded,\nthe justification of this trust by the event, and the affectionate\nfatherly acknowledgment with which God gloried in the man's loyalty and\nstrength of character--all so legibly written here--come home to every\nheart in the time of its need. Abraham has here shown the way to the\nhighest reach of human devotedness and to the heartiest submission to\nthe Divine will in the most heart-rending circumstances. Men and women\nliving our modern life are brought into situations which seem as\ntorturing and overwhelming as those of Abraham, and all who are in such\nconditions find, in his loyal trust in God, sympathetic and effectual\naid.\n\nIn order to understand God's part in this incident and to remove the\nsuspicion that God imposed upon Abraham as a duty what was really a\ncrime, or that He was playing with the most sacred feelings of His\nservant, there are one or two facts which must not be left out of\nconsideration. In the first place, Abraham did not think it wrong to\nsacrifice his son. His own conscience did not clash with God's command.\nOn the contrary, it was through his own conscience God's will impressed\nitself upon him. No man of Abraham's character and intelligence could\nsuppose that any word of God could make that right which was in itself\nwrong, or would allow the voice of conscience to be drowned by some\nmysterious voice from without. If Abraham had supposed that in all\ncircumstances it was a crime to take his son's life, he could not have\nlistened to any voice that bade him commit this crime. The man who in\nour day should put his child to death and plead that he had a Divine\nwarrant for it would either be hanged or confined as insane. No miracle\nwould be accepted as a guarantee for the Divine dictation of such an\nact. No voice from heaven would be listened to for a moment, if it\ncontradicted the voice of the universal conscience of mankind. But in\nAbraham's day the universal conscience had only approbation to express\nfor such a deed as this. Not only had the father absolute power over the\nson, so that he might do with him what he pleased; but this particular\nmode of disposing of a son would be considered singular only as being\nbeyond the reach of ordinary virtue. Abraham was familiar with the idea\nthat the most exalted form of religious worship was the sacrifice of the\nfirst-born. He felt, in common with godly men in every age, that to\noffer to God cheap sacrifices while we retain for ourselves what is\ntruly precious, is a kind of worship that betrays our low estimate of\nGod rather than expresses true devotion. He may have been conscious that\nin losing Ishmael he had felt resentment against God for depriving him\nof so loved a possession; he may have seen Canaanite fathers offering\ntheir children to gods he knew to be utterly unworthy of any sacrifice;\nand this may have rankled in his mind until he felt shut up to offer his\nall to God in the person of his son, his only son, Isaac. At all events,\nhowever it became his conviction that God desired him to offer his son,\nthis was a sacrifice which was in no respect forbidden by his own\nconscience.\n\nBut although not wrong in Abraham's judgment, this sacrifice was wrong\nin the eye of God; how then can we justify God's command that He should\nmake it? We justify it precisely on that ground which lies patent on the\nface of the narrative--God meant Abraham to make the sacrifice in\nspirit, not in the outward act; He meant to write deeply on the Jewish\nmind the fundamental lesson regarding sacrifice, that it is in the\nspirit and will all true sacrifice is made. God intended what actually\nhappened, that Abraham's sacrifice should be complete and that human\nsacrifice should receive a fatal blow. So far from introducing into\nAbraham's mind erroneous ideas about sacrifice, this incident finally\ndispelled from his mind such ideas and permanently fixed in his mind the\nconviction that the sacrifice God seeks is the devotion of the living\nsoul not the consumption of a dead body. God met him on the platform of\nknowledge and of morality to which he had attained, and by requiring him\nto sacrifice his son taught him and all his descendants in what sense\nalone such sacrifice can be acceptable. God meant Abraham to sacrifice\nhis son, but not in the coarse material sense. God meant him to yield\nthe lad truly to Him; to arrive at the consciousness that Isaac more\ntruly belonged to God than to him, his father. It was needful that\nAbraham and Isaac should be in perfect harmony with the Divine will.\nOnly by being really and absolutely in God's hand could they, or can any\none, reach the whole and full good designed for them by God.\n\nHow old Isaac was at the time of this sacrifice there is no means of\naccurately ascertaining. He was probably in the vigour of early manhood.\nHe was able to take his share in the work of cutting wood for the burnt\noffering and carrying the faggots a considerable distance. It was\nnecessary too that this sacrifice should be made on Isaac's part not\nwith the timorous shrinking or ignorant boldness of a boy, but with the\nfull comprehension and deliberate consent of maturer years. It is\nprobable that Abraham was already preparing, if not to yield to Isaac\nthe family headship, yet to introduce him to a share in the\nresponsibilities he had so long borne alone. From the touching\nconfidence in one another which this incident exhibits, a light is\nreflected on the fond intercourse of former years. Isaac was at that\ntime of life when a son is closest to a father, mature but not\nindependent; when all that a father can do has been done, but while as\nyet the son has not passed away into a life of his own.\n\nAnd Isaac was no ordinary son. The man of business who has encouraged\nand solaced himself in his toil by the hope that his son will reap the\nfruit of it and make his old age easy and honoured, but who outlives\nhis son and sees the effort of his life go for nothing; the proprietor\nwho bears an ancient name and sees his heir die--these are familiar\nobjects of pathetic interest, and no heart is so hard as to refuse a\ntear of sympathy when brought into view of such heart-withering\nbereavements. But in Abraham all fatherly feelings had been evoked and\nstrengthened and deepened by a quite peculiar experience. By a special\nand most effectual discipline he had been separated from the objects\nwhich ordinarily divide men's attention and eke out their contentment in\nlife, and his whole hopes had been compelled to centre in his son. It\nwas not the perpetuation of a name nor the transmission of a well-known\nand valuable property; it was not even the gratification of the most\njustifiable and tender of human affections, that was crushed and\nthwarted in Abraham by this command; but it was also and especially that\nhope which had been aroused and fostered in him by extraordinary\nprovidences and which concerned, as he believed, not himself alone but\nall men.\n\nManifestly no harder task could have been set to Abraham, than that\nwhich was imposed on him by the command, \"Take now thy son, thine only\nson, Isaac, whom thou lovest,\" this son of thine in whom all the\npromises are yea and amen to thee, this son for whose sake thou gavest\nup home and kindred, and banished thy firstborn Ishmael, this son whom\nthou lovest, and offer him for a burnt-offering. This son, Abraham might\nhave said, whom I have been taught to cherish, putting aside all other\naffections that I might love him above all, I am now with my own hand to\nslay, to slay with all the terrible niceties and formalities of\nsacrifice _and with all the love and adoration of sacrifice_. I am with\nmy own hand to destroy all that makes life valuable to me, and as I do\nso I am to love and worship Him who commands this sacrifice. I am to go\nto Isaac, whom I have taught to look forward to the fairest happiest\nlife, and I am to contradict all I ever told him and tell him now that\nhe has only grown to maturity that he might be cut down in the flush and\nhope of opening manhood. What can Abraham have thought? Possibly the\nthought would occur that God was now recalling the great gift He had\nmade. There is always enough conscience of sin in the purest human heart\nto engender self-reproach and fear on the faintest occasion; and when so\nsignal a token of God's displeasure as this was sent, Abraham may well\nhave believed himself to have been unwittingly guilty of some great\ncrime against God, or have now thought with bitterness of the languid\ndevotion he had been offering Him. I have in sacrificing a lamb been as\nif I had been cutting off a dog's neck, profane and thoughtless in my\nworship, and now God is solemnising me indeed. I have in thought or\ndesire kept back the prime of my flock, and God is now teaching me that\na man may not rob God. Who could have been surprised if in this horror\nof great darkness the mind of Abraham had become unhinged? Who could\nwonder if he had slain _himself_ to make the loss of Isaac impossible?\nWho could wonder if he had sullenly ignored the command, waited for\nfurther light, or rejected an alliance with God which involved such\nlamentable conditions? Nothing that could befall him in consequence of\ndisobedience, he might have supposed, could exceed in pain the agony of\nobedience. And it is always easier to endure the pain inflicted upon us\nby circumstances than to do with our own hand and free will what we know\nwill involve us in suffering. It is not mere resignation but active\nobedience that was required of Abraham. His was not the passive\nresignation of the man out of whose reach death or disaster has swept\nhis dearest treasures, and who is helped to resignation by the\nconsciousness that no murmuring can bring them back--his was the far\nmore difficult active resignation, which has still in possession all\nthat it prizes, and may withhold these treasures if it pleases, but is\ncalled by a higher voice than that of self-pleasing to sacrifice them\nall.\n\nBut though Abraham was the chief, he was not the sole actor in this\ntrying scene. To Isaac this was the memorable day of his life, and\nquiescent and passive as his character seems to have been, it cannot but\nhave been stirred and strained now in every fibre of it. Abraham could\nnot find it in his heart to disclose to his son the object of the\njourney; even to the last he kept him unconscious of the part he was\nhimself to play. Two long days' journey, days of intense inward\ncommotion to Abraham, they went northward. On the third day the servants\nwere left, and father and son went on alone, unaccompanied and\nunwitnessed. \"So they went,\" as the narrative twice over says, \"both of\nthem together,\" but with minds how differently filled; the father's\nheart torn with anguish, and distracted by a thousand thoughts, the\nson's mind disengaged, occupied only with the new scenes and with\npassing fancies. Nowhere in the narrative does the completeness of the\nmastery Abraham had gained over his natural feelings appear more\nstrikingly than in the calmness with which he answers Isaac's question.\nAs they approach the place of sacrifice Isaac observes the silent and\nawe-struck demeanour of his father, and fears that it may have been\nthrough absence of mind he has neglected to bring the lamb. With a\ngentle reverence he ventures to attract Abraham's attention: \"My\nfather;\" and he said, \"Here am I, my son.\" And he said, \"Behold the fire\nand the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?\" It is one of\nthose moments when only the strongest heart can bear up calmly and when\nonly the humblest faith has the right word to say. \"My son, the Lord\nwill provide Himself a lamb for a burnt offering.\"\n\nNot much longer could the terrible truth be hidden from Isaac. With what\nfeelings must he have seen the agonised face of his father as he turned\nto bind him and as he learned that he must prepare not to sacrifice but\nto be sacrificed. Here then was the end of those great hopes on which\nhis youth had been fed. What could such contradiction mean? Was he to\nsubmit even to his father in such a matter? Why should he not\nexpostulate, resist, flee? Such ideas seem to have found short\nentertainment in the mind of Isaac. Trained by long experience to trust\nhis father, he obeys without complaint or murmur. Still it cannot cease\nto be matter of admiration and astonishment that a young man should have\nbeen able on so brief a notice, through so shocking a way, and with so\nstartling a reversal of his expectations, to forego all right to choose\nfor himself, and yield himself implicitly to what he believed to be\nGod's will. By a faith so absolute Isaac became indeed the heir of\nAbraham. When he laid himself on the altar, trusting his father and his\nGod, he came of age as the true seed of Abraham and entered on the\ninheritance, making God his God. At that supreme moment he made himself\nover to God, he put himself at God's disposal; if his death was to be\nhelpful in fulfilling God's purpose he was willing to die. It was God's\nwill that must be done, not his. He knew that God could not err, could\nnot harm His people; he was ignorant of the design which his death could\nfulfil, but he felt sure that his sacrifice was not asked in vain. He\nhad familiarised himself with the thought that he belonged to God; that\nhe was on earth for God's purposes not for his own; so that now when he\nwas suddenly summoned to lay himself formally and finally on God's\naltar, he did not hesitate to do so. He had learned that there are\npossessions more worth preserving than life itself, that\n\n    \"Manhood is the one immortal thing\n    Beneath Time's changeful sky\"--\n\nhe had learned that \"length of days is knowing when to die.\"\n\nNo one who has measured the strain that such sacrifice puts upon human\nnature can withhold his tribute of cordial admiration for so rare a\ndevotedness, and no one can fail to see that by this sacrifice Isaac\nbecame truly the heir of Abraham. And not only Isaac, but every man\nattains his majority by sacrifice. Only by losing our life do we begin\nto live. Only by yielding ourselves truly and unreservedly to God's\npurpose do we enter the true life of men. The giving up of self, the\nabandonment of an isolated life, the bringing of ourselves into\nconnection with God, with the Supreme and with the whole, this is the\nsecond birth. To reach that full stream of life which is moved by God's\nwill and which is the true life of men, we must so give ourselves up to\nGod, that each of His commandments, each of His providences, all by\nwhich He comes into connection with us, has its due effect upon us. If\nwe only seek from God help to carry out our own conception of life, if\nwe only desire His power to aid us in making of this life what we have\nresolved it shall be, we are far indeed from Isaac's conception of God\nand of life. But if we desire that God fulfil in us, and through us His\nown conception of what our life should be, the only means of attaining\nthis desire is to put ourselves fairly into God's hand, unflinchingly to\ndo what we believe to be His will irrespective of present darkness and\npain and privation. He who thus bids an honest farewell to earth and\nlets himself be bound and laid upon God's altar, is conscious that in\nrenouncing himself he has won God and become His heir.\n\nHave you thus given yourselves to God? I do not ask if your sacrifice\nhas been perfect, nor whether you do not ever seek great things still\nfor yourselves; but do you know what it is thus to yield yourself to\nGod, to put God first, yourself second or nowhere? Are you even\noccasionally quite willing to sink your own interests, your own\nprospects, your own native tastes, to have your own worldly hopes\ndelayed or blighted, your future darkened? Have you even brought your\nintellect to bear upon this first law of human life, and determined for\nyourself whether it is the case or not that man's life, in order to be\nprofitable, joyful, and abiding, must be lived in God? Do you recognise\nthat human life is not for the individual's good, but for the common\ngood, and that only in God can each man find his place and his work? All\nthat we give up to Him we have in an ampler form. The very affections\nwhich we are called to sacrifice are purified and deepened rather than\nlost. When Abraham resigned his son to God and received him back, their\nlove took on a new delicacy and tenderness. They were more than ever to\none another after this interference of God. And He meant it to be so.\nWhere our affections are thwarted or where our hopes are blasted, it is\nnot our injury, but our good, that is meant, a fineness and purity, an\neternal significance and depth, are imparted to affections that are\nannealed by passing through the fire of trial.\n\nNot till the last moment did God interpose with the gladdening words,\n\"Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou anything unto him; for\nnow I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son,\nthine only son, from Me.\" The significance of this was so obvious that\nit passed into a proverb: \"In the mount of the Lord it shall be\nprovided.\" It was there, and not at any earlier point, Abraham saw the\nprovision that had been made for an offering. Up to the moment when he\nlifted the knife over all he lived for, it was not seen that other\nprovision was made. Up to the moment when it was indubitable that both\nhe and Isaac were obedient unto death, and when in will and feeling they\nhad sacrificed themselves, no substitute was visible, but no sooner was\nthe sacrifice complete in spirit than God's provision was disclosed. It\nwas the spirit of sacrifice, not the blood of Isaac, that God desired.\nIt was the noble generosity of Abraham that God delighted in, not the\nfatherly grief that would have followed the actual death of Isaac. It\nwas the heroic submission of father and son that God saw with delight,\nrejoicing that men were found capable of the utmost of heroism, of\npatient and unflinching adherence to duty. At any point short of the\nconsummation, interposition would have come too soon, and would have\nprevented this educative and elevating display of the capacity of men\nfor the utmost that life can require of them. Had the provision of God\nbeen made known one minute before the hand of Abraham was raised to\nstrike, it would have remained doubtful whether in the critical moment\none or other of the parties might not have failed. But when the\nsacrifice was complete, when already the bitterness of death was past,\nwhen all the agonizing conflict was over, the anguish of the father\nmastered, and the dismay of the son subdued to perfect conformity with\nthe supreme will, then the full reward of victorious conflict was given,\nand God's meaning flashed through the darkness, and His provision was\nseen.\n\nThis is the universal law. We find God's provision only on the mount of\nsacrifice, not at any stage short of this, but only there. We must go\nthe whole way in faith; what lies before us as duty, we must do; often\nin darkness and utter misery, seeing no possibility of escape or relief,\nwe must climb the hill where we are to abandon all that has given joy\nand hope to our life; and not before the sacrifice has been actually\nmade can we enter into the heaven of victory God provides. You may be\ncalled to sacrifice your youth, your hopes of a career, your affections,\nthat you may uphold and soothe the lingering days of one to whom you are\nnaturally bound. Or your whole life may have centred in an affection\nwhich circumstances demand you shall abandon; you may have to sacrifice\nyour natural tastes and give up almost everything you once set your\nheart on; and while to others the years bring brightness and variety and\nscope, to you they may be bringing only monotonous fulfilment of insipid\nand uncongenial tasks. You may be in circumstances which tempt you to\nsay, Does God see the inextricable difficulty I am in? Does He estimate\nthe pain I must suffer if immediate relief do not come? Is obedience to\nHim only to involve me in misery from which other men are exempt? You\nmay even say that although a substitute was found for Isaac, no\nsubstitute has been found for the sacrifice you have had to make, but\nyou have been compelled actually to lose what was dear to you as life\nitself. But when the character has been fully tried, when the utmost\ngood to character has been accomplished, and when delay of relief would\nonly increase misery, then relief comes. Still the law holds good, that\nas soon as you in spirit yield to God's will, and with a quiet\nsubmissiveness consent to the loss or pain inflicted upon you, in that\nhour your whole attitude to your circumstances is transformed, you find\nrest and assured hope. Two things are certain: that, however painful\nyour condition is, God's intention is not to injure, but to advance you,\nand that hopeful submission is wiser, nobler, and every way better than\nmurmuring and resentment.\n\nFinally, these words, \"The Lord will provide,\" which Abraham uttered in\nthat exalted frame of mind which is near to the prophetic ecstasy, have\nbeen the burden sung by every sincere and thoughtful worshipper as he\nascended the hill of God to seek forgiveness of his sin, the burden\nwhich the Lord's worshipping congregation kept on its tongue through all\nthe ages, till at length, as the angel of the Lord had opened the eyes\nof Abraham to see the ram provided, the voice of the Baptist \"crying in\nthe wilderness\" to a fainting and well-nigh despairing few turned their\neye to God's great provision with the final announcement, \"Behold the\nLamb of God.\" Let us accept this as a motto which we may apply, not only\nin all temporal straits, when we can see no escape from loss and misery,\nbut also in all spiritual emergency, when sin seems a burden too great\nfor us to bear, and when we seem to lie under the uplifted knife of\nGod's judgment. Let us remember that God's desire is not that we suffer\npain, but that we learn obedience, that we be brought to that true and\nthorough confidence in Him which may fit us to fulfil His loving\npurposes. Let us, above all, remember that we cannot know the grace of\nGod, cannot experience the abundant provision He has made for weak and\nsinful men, until we have climbed the mount of sacrifice and are able to\ncommit ourselves wholly to Him. Not by attacking our manifold enemies\none by one, nor by attempting the great work of sanctification\npiecemeal, shall we ever make much growth or progress, but by giving\nourselves up wholly to God and by becoming willing to live in Him and as\nHis.\n\n\n\n\nXVII.\n\n_ISHMAEL AND ISAAC._\n\nGEN. xxi., xxii.\n\n    \"Abraham had two sons, the one by a bondmaid, the other by a\n    freewoman. * * * Which things are an allegory.\"--GALATIANS iv. 22.\n\n    \"Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his\n    son.\"--GENESIS xxii. 10.\n\n\nIn the birth of Isaac, Abraham at length sees the long-delayed\nfulfilment of the promise. But his trials are by no means over. He has\nhimself introduced into his family the seeds of discord and disturbance,\nand speedily the fruit is borne. Ishmael, at the birth of Isaac, was a\nlad of fourteen years, and, reckoning from Eastern customs, he must have\nbeen over sixteen when the feast was made in honour of the weaned child.\nCertainly he was quite old enough to understand the important and not\nvery welcome alteration in his prospects which the birth of this new son\neffected. He had been brought up to count himself the heir of all the\nwealth and influence of Abraham. There was no alienation of feeling\nbetween father and son: no shadow had flitted over the bright prospect\nof the boy as he grew up; when suddenly and unexpectedly there was\ninterposed between him and his expectation the effectual barrier of this\nchild of Sarah's. The importance of this child to the family was in due\ncourse indicated in many ways offensive to Ishmael; and when the feast\nwas made, his spleen could no longer be repressed. This weaning was the\nfirst step in the direction of an independent existence, and this would\nbe the point of the feast in celebration. The child was no longer a mere\npart of the mother, but an individual, a member of the family. The hopes\nof the parents were carried forward to the time when he should be quite\nindependent of them.\n\nBut in all this there was great food for the ridicule of a thoughtless\nlad. It was precisely the kind of thing which could easily be mocked\nwithout any great expenditure of wit by a boy of Ishmael's age. The too\nvisible pride of the aged mother, the incongruity of maternal duties\nwith ninety years, the concentration of attention and honours on so\nsmall an object,--all this was, doubtless, a temptation to a boy who had\nprobably at no time too much reverence. But the words and gestures which\nothers might have disregarded as childish frolic, or, at worst, as the\nunseemly and ill-natured impertinence of a boy who knew no better, stung\nSarah, and left a poison in her blood that infuriated her. \"Cast out\nthat bondwoman and her son,\" she demanded of Abraham. Evidently she\nfeared the rivalry of this second household of Abraham, and was resolved\nit should come to an end. The mocking of Ishmael is but the violent\nconcussion that at last produces the explosion, for which material has\nlong been laid in train. She had seen on Abraham's part a clinging to\nIshmael, which she was unable to appreciate. And though her harsh\ndecision was nothing more than the dictate of maternal jealousy, it did\nprevent things from running on as they were until even a more painful\nfamily quarrel must have been the issue.\n\nThe act of expulsion was itself unaccountably harsh. There was nothing\nto prevent Abraham sending the boy and his mother under an escort to\nsome safe place; nothing to prevent him from giving the lad some share\nof his possessions sufficient to provide for him. Nothing of this kind\nwas done. The woman and the boy were simply put to the door; and this,\nalthough Ishmael had for years been counted Abraham's heir, and though\nhe was a member of the covenant made with Abraham. There may have been\nsome law giving Sarah absolute power over her maid; but if any law gave\nher power to do what was now done, it was a thoroughly barbarous one,\nand she was a barbarous woman who used it.\n\nIt is one of those painful cases in which one poor creature, clothed\nwith a little brief authority, stretches it to the utmost in vindictive\nmaltreatment of another. Sarah happened to be mistress, and, instead of\nusing her position to make those under her happy, she used it for her\nown convenience, for the gratification of her own spite, and to make\nthose beneath her conscious of her power by their suffering. She\nhappened to be a mother, and instead of bringing her into sympathy with\nall women and their children, this concentrated her affection with a\nfierce jealousy on her own child. She breathed freely when Hagar and\nIshmael were fairly out of sight. A smile of satisfied malice betrayed\nher bitter spirit. No thought of the sufferings to which she had\ncommitted a woman who had served her well for years, who had yielded\neverything to her will, and who had no other natural protector but her,\nno glimpses of Abraham's saddened face, visited her with any relentings.\nIt mattered not to her what came of the woman and the boy to whom she\nreally owed a more loving and careful regard than to any except Abraham\nand Isaac. It is a story often repeated. One who has been a member of\nthe household for many years is at last dismissed at the dictate of some\npetty pique or spite as remorselessly and inhumanly as a piece of old\nfurniture might be parted with. Some thoroughly good servant, who has\nmade sacrifices to forward his employer's interest, is at last, through\nno offence of his own, found to be in his employer's way, and at once\nall old services are forgotten, all old ties broken, and the authority\nof the employer, legal but inhuman, is exercised. It is often those who\ncan least defend themselves who are thus treated; no resistance is\npossible, and also, alas! the party is too weak to face the wilderness\non which she is thrown out, and if any cares to follow her history, we\nmay find her at the last gasp under a bush.\n\nStill, both for Abraham and for Ishmael it was better this severance\nshould take place. It was grievous to Abraham; and Sarah saw that for\nthis very reason it was necessary. Ishmael was his first-born, and for\nmany years had received the whole of his parental affection: and,\nlooking on the little Isaac, he might feel the desirableness of keeping\nanother son in reserve, lest this strangely-given child might as\nstrangely pass away. Coming to him in a way so unusual, and having\nperhaps in his appearance some indication of his peculiar birth, he\nmight seem scarcely fit for the rough life Abraham himself had led. On\nthe other hand, it was plain that in Ishmael were the very qualities\nwhich Isaac was already showing that he lacked. Already Abraham was\nobserving that with all his insolence and turbulence there was a natural\nforce and independence of character which might come to be most useful\nin the patriarchal household. The man who had pursued and routed the\nallied kings could not but be drawn to a youth who already gave promise\nof capacity for similar enterprises--and this youth his own son. But can\nAbraham have failed to let his fancy picture the deeds this lad might\none day do at the head of his armed slaves? And may he not have dreamt\nof a glory in the land not altogether such as the promise of God\nencouraged him to look for, but such as the tribes around would\nacknowledge and fear? All the hopes Abraham had of Ishmael had gained\nfirm hold of his mind before Isaac was born; and before Isaac grew up,\nIshmael must have taken the most influential place in the house and\nplans of Abraham. His mind would thus have received a strong bias\ntowards conquest and forcible modes of advance. He might have been led\nto neglect, and, perhaps, finally despise, the unostentatious blessings\nof heaven.\n\nIf, then, Abraham was to become the founder, not of one new warlike\npower in addition to the already too numerous warlike powers of the\nEast, but of a religion which should finally develop into the most\nelevating and purifying influence among men, it is obvious that Ishmael\nwas not at all a desirable heir. Whatever pain it gave to Abraham to\npart with him, separation in some form had become necessary. It was\nimpossible that the father should continue to enjoy the filial affection\nof Ishmael, his lively talk, and warm enthusiasm, and adventurous\nexploits, and at the same time concentrate his hope and his care on\nIsaac. He had, therefore, to give up, with something of the sorrow and\nself-control he afterwards underwent in connection with the sacrifice of\nIsaac, the lad whose bright face had for so many years shone in all his\npaths. And in some such way are we often called to part with prospects\nwhich have wrought themselves very deep into our spirit, and which,\nindeed, just because they are very promising and seductive, have become\ndangerous to us, upsetting the balance of our life, and throwing into\nthe shade objects and purposes which ought to be outstanding. And when\nwe are thus required to give up what we were looking to for comfort, for\napplause, and for profit, the voice of God in its first admonition\nsometimes seems to us little better than the jealousy of a woman. Like\nSarah's demand, that none should share with her son, does the\nrequirement seem which indicates to us that we must set nothing on a\nlevel with God's direct gifts to us. We refuse to see why we may not\nhave all the pleasures and enjoyments, all the display and brilliance\nthat the world can give. We feel as if we were needlessly restricted.\nBut this instance shows us that when circumstances compel us to give up\nsomething of this kind which we have been cherishing, room is given for\na better thing than itself to grow.\n\nFor Ishmael himself, too, wronged as he was in the mode of his\nexpulsion, it was yet far better that he should go. Isaac _was_ the true\nheir. No jeering allusions to his late birth or to his appearance could\nalter that fact. And to a temper like Ishmael's it was impossible to\noccupy a subordinate, dependent position. All he required to call out\nhis latent powers was to be thrown thus on his own resources. The daring\nand high spirit and quickness to take offence and use violence, which\nwould have wrought untold mischief in a pastoral camp, were the very\nqualities which found fit exercise in the desert, and seemed there only\nin keeping with the life he had to lead. And his hard experience at\nfirst would at his age do him no harm, but good only. To be compelled to\nface life single-handed at the age of sixteen is by no means a fate to\nbe pitied. It was the making of Ishmael, and is the making of many a lad\nin every generation.\n\nBut the two fugitives are soon reminded that, though expelled from\nAbraham's tents and protection, they are not expelled from his God.\nIshmael finds it true that when father and mother forsake him, the Lord\ntakes him up. At the very outset of his desert life he is made conscious\nthat God is still his God, mindful of his wants, responsive to his cry\nof distress. It was not through Ishmael the promised seed was to come,\nbut the descendants of Ishmael had every inducement to retain faith in\nthe God of Abraham, who listened to their father's cry. The fact of\nbeing excluded from certain privileges did not involve that they were to\nbe excluded from all privileges. God still \"heard the voice of the lad,\nand the angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven.\"\n\nIt is this voice of God to Hagar that so speedily, and apparently once\nfor all, lifts her out of despair to cheerful hope. It would appear as\nif her despair had been needless; at least from the words addressed to\nher, \"What aileth thee, Hagar?\" it would appear as if she might herself\nhave found the water that was close at hand, if only she had been\ndisposed to look for it. But she had lost heart, and perhaps with her\ndespair was mingled some resentment, not only at Sarah, but at the whole\nHebrew connection, including the God of the Hebrews, who had before\nencouraged her. Here was the end of the magnificent promise which that\nGod had made her before her child was born--a helpless human form\ngasping its life away without a drop of water to moisten the parched\ntongue and bring light to the glazing eyes, and with no easier couch\nthan the burning sand. Was it for this, the bitterest drop that, apart\nfrom sin, can be given to any parent to drink, she had been brought from\nEgypt and led through all her past? Had her hopes been nursed by means\nso extraordinary only that they might be so bitterly blighted? Thus she\nleapt to her conclusions, and judged that because her skin of water had\nfailed God had failed her too. No one can blame her, with her boy dying\nbefore her, and herself helpless to relieve one pang of his suffering.\nHitherto in the well-furnished tents of Abraham she had been able to\nrespond to his slightest desire. Thirst he had never known, save as the\nrelish to some boyish adventure. But now, when his eyes appeal to her in\ndying anguish, she can but turn away in helpless despair. She cannot\nrelieve his simplest want. Not for her own fate has she any tears, but\nto see her pride, her life and joy, perishing thus miserably, is more\nthan she can bear.\n\nNo one can blame, but every one may learn from her. When angry\nresentment and unbelieving despair fill the mind, we may perish of\nthirst in the midst of springs. When God's promises produce no faith,\nbut seem to us so much waste paper, we are necessarily in danger of\nmissing their fulfilment. When we ascribe to God the harshness and\nwickedness of those who represent Him in the world, we commit moral\nsuicide. So far from the promises given to Hagar being now at the point\nof extinction, this was the first considerable step towards their\nfulfilment. When Ishmael turned his back on the familiar tents, and\nflung his last gibe at Sarah, he was really setting out to a far richer\ninheritance, so far as this world goes, than ever fell to Isaac and his\nsons.\n\nBut the chief use Paul makes of this entire episode in the history is to\nsee in it an allegory, a kind of picture made up of real persons and\nevents, representing the impossibility of law and gospel living\nharmoniously together, the incompatibility of a spirit of service with a\nspirit of sonship. Hagar, he says, is in this picture the likeness of\nthe law given from Sinai, which gendereth to bondage. Hagar and her son,\nthat is to say, stand for the law and the kind of righteousness produced\nby the law,--not superficially a bad kind; on the contrary, a\nrighteousness with much dash and brilliance and strong manly force about\nit, but at the root defective, faulty in its origin, springing from the\nslavish spirit. And first Paul bids us notice how the free-born is\npersecuted and mocked by the slave-born, that is, how the children of\nGod who are trying to live by love and faith in Christ are put to shame\nand made uneasy by the law. They believe they are God's dear children,\nthat they are loved by Him, and may go out and in freely in His house as\ntheir own home, using all that is His with the freedom of His heirs; but\nthe law mocks them, frightens them, tells them _it_ is God's first-born,\nlaw lying far back in the dimness of eternity, coeval with God Himself.\nIt tells them they are puny and weak, scarcely out of their mother's\narms, tottering, lisping creatures, doing much mischief, but none of the\nhousework, at best only getting some little thing to pretend to work at.\nIn contrast to their feeble, soft, unskilled weakness, it sets before\nthem a finely-moulded, athletic form, becoming disciplined to all work,\nand able to take a place among the serviceable and able-bodied. But with\nall this there is in that puny babe a life begun which will grow and\nmake it the true heir, dwelling in the house and possessing what it has\nnot toiled for, while the vigorous, likely-looking lad must go into the\nwilderness and make a possession for himself with his own bow and spear.\n\nNow, of course, righteousness of life and character, or perfect manhood,\nis the end at which all that we call salvation aims, and that which can\ngive us the purest, ripest character is salvation for us; that which can\nmake us, for all purposes, most serviceable and strong. And when we are\nconfronted with persons who might speak of service we cannot render, of\nan upright, unfaltering carriage we cannot assume, of a general human\nworthiness we can make no pretension to, we are justly perturbed, and\nshould regain our equanimity only under the influence of the most\nundoubted truth and fact. If we can honestly say in our hearts,\n\"Although we can show no such work done, and no such masculine growth,\nyet we have a life in us which is of God, and will grow;\" if we are sure\nthat we have the spirit of God's children, a spirit of love and\ndutifulness, we may take comfort from this incident. We may remind\nourselves that it is not he who has at the present moment the best\nappearance who always abides in the father's home, but he who is by\nbirth the heir. Have we or have we not the spirit of the Son? not\nfeeling that we must every evening make good our claim to another\nnight's lodging by showing the task we have accomplished, but being\nconscious that the interests in which we are called to work are our own\ninterests, that we are heirs in the father's house, so that all we do\nfor the house is really done for ourselves. Do we go out and in with\nGod, feeling no need of His commands, our own eye seeing where help is\nrequired, and our own desires being wholly directed towards that which\nengages all His attention and work?\n\nFor Paul would have each of us apply, allegorically, the words, Cast out\nthe bondwoman and her son, that is, cast out the legal mode of earning a\nstanding in God's house, and with this legal mode cast out all the\nself-seeking, the servile fear of God, the self-righteousness, and the\nhard-heartedness it engenders. Cast out wholly from yourself the spirit\nof the slave, and cherish the spirit of the son and heir. The slave-born\nmay seem for a while to have a firm footing in the father's house, but\nit cannot last. The temper and tastes of Ishmael are radically different\nfrom those of Abraham, and when the slave-born becomes mature, the wild\nEgyptian strain will appear in his character. Moreover, he looks upon\nthe goods of Abraham as plunder; he cannot rid himself of the feeling of\nan alien, and this would, at length, show itself in a want of frankness\nwith Abraham--slowly, but surely, the confidence between them would be\nworn out. Nothing but being a child of God, being born of the Spirit,\ncan give the feeling of intimacy, confidence, unity of interest, which\nconstitutes true religion. All we do as slaves goes for nothing; that is\nto say, all we do, not because we see the good of it, but because we are\ncommanded; not because we have any liking for the thing done, but\nbecause we wish to be paid for it. The day is coming when we shall\nattain our majority, when it will be said to us by God, Now, do whatever\nyou like, whatever you have a mind to; no surveillance, no commands are\nnow needed; I put all into your own hand. What, in these circumstances,\nshould we straightway do? Should we, for the love of the thing, carry on\nthe same work to which God's commands had driven us; should we, if left\nabsolutely in charge, find nothing more attractive than just to\nprosecute that idea of life and the world set before us by Christ? Or,\nshould we see that we had merely been keeping ourselves in check for a\nwhile, biding our time, untamed as Ishmael, craving the rewards but not\nthe life of the children of God? The most serious of all questions\nthese--questions that determine the issues of our whole life, that\ndetermine whether our home is to be where all the best interests of men\nand the highest blessings of God have their seat, or in the pathless\ndesert where life is an aimless wandering, dissociated from all the\nforward movements of men.\n\nThe distinction between the servile spirit and the spirit of sonship\nbeing thus radical, it could be by no mere formality, or exhibition of\nhis legal title, that Isaac became the heir of God's heritage. His\nsacrifice on Moriah was the requisite condition of his succession to\nAbraham's place; it was the only suitable celebration of his majority.\nAbraham himself had been able to enter into covenant with God only by\nsacrifice; and sacrifice not of a dead and external kind, but vivified\nby an actual surrender of himself to God, and by so true a perception of\nGod's holiness and requirements, that he was in a horror of great\ndarkness. By no other process can any of his heirs succeed to the\ninheritance. A true resignation of self, in whatever outward form this\nresignation may appear, is required that we may become one with God in\nHis holy purposes and in His eternal blessedness. There could be no\ndoubt that Abraham had found a true heir, when Isaac laid himself on the\naltar and steadied his heart to receive the knife. Dearer to God, and of\nimmeasurably greater value than any service, was this surrender of\nhimself into the hand of his Father and his God. In this was promise of\nall service and all loving fellowship. \"Precious in the sight of the\nLord is the death of His saints. O Lord, truly I am Thy servant; I am\nThy servant, the son of Thine handmaid: Thou hast loosed my bonds.\"\n\nSo incomparable with the most distinguished service did this sacrifice\nof Isaac's self appear, that the record of his active life seems to have\nhad no interest to his contemporaries or successors. There was but this\none thing to say of him. No more seemed needful. The sacrifice was\nindeed great, and worthy of commemoration. No act could so conclusively\nhave shown that Isaac was thoroughly at one with God. He had much to\nlive for; from his birth there hovered around him interests and hopes of\nthe most exciting and flattering nature; a new kind of glory such as had\nnot yet been attained on earth was to be attained, or, at any rate,\napproached in him. This glory was certain to be realised, being\nguaranteed by God's promise, so that his hopes might launch out in the\nboldest confidence and give him the aspect and bearing of a king; while\nit was uncertain in the time and manner of its realisation, so that the\nmost attractive mystery hung around his future. Plainly his was a life\nworth entering on and living through; a life fit to engage and absorb a\nman's whole desire, interest, and effort; a life such as might well make\na man gird himself and resolve to play the man throughout, that so each\npart of it might reveal its secret to him, and that none of its wonder\nmight be lost. It was a life which, above all others, seemed worth\nprotecting from all injury and risk, and for which, no doubt, not a few\nof the home-born servants in the patriarchal encampment would have\ngladly ventured their own. There have, indeed, been few, if any, lives\nof which it could so truly be said, The world cannot do without this--at\nall hazards and costs this must be cherished. And all this must have\nbeen even more obvious to its owner than to any one else, and must have\nbegotten in him an unquestioning assurance, that he at least had a\ncharmed life, and would live and see good days. Yet with whatever shock\nthe command of God came upon him, there is no word of doubt or\nremonstrance or rebellion. He gave his life to Him who had first given\nit to him. And thus yielding himself to God, he entered into the\ninheritance, and became worthy to stand to all time the representative\nheir of God, as Abraham by his faith had become the father of the\nfaithful.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII.\n\n_PURCHASE OF MACHPELAH._\n\nGENESIS xxiii.\n\n\nIt may be supposed to be a needless observation that our life is greatly\ninfluenced by the fact that it speedily and certainly ends in death. But\nit might be interesting, and it would certainly be surprising, to trace\nout the various ways in which this fact influences life. Plainly every\nhuman affair would be altered if we lived on here for ever, supposing\nthat were possible. What the world would be had we no predecessors, no\nwisdom but what our own past experience and the genius of one generation\nof men could produce, we can scarcely imagine. We can scarcely imagine\nwhat life would be or what the world would be did not one generation\nsucceed and oust another and were we contemporary with the whole process\nof history. It is the grand irreversible and universal law that we give\nplace and make room for others. The individual passes away, but the\nhistory of the race proceeds. Here on earth in the meantime, and not\nelsewhere, the history of the race is being played out, and each having\ndone his part, however small or however great, passes away. Whether an\nindividual, even the most gifted and powerful, could continue to be\nhelpful to the race for thousands of years, supposing his life were\ncontinued, it is needless to inquire. Perhaps as steam has force only\nat a certain pressure, so human force requires the condensation of a\nbrief life to give it elastic energy. But these are idle speculations.\nThey show us, however, that our life beyond death will be not so much a\nprolongation of life as we now know it as an entire change in the form\nof our existence; and they show us also that our little piece of the\nworld's work must be quickly done if it is to be done at all, and that\nit will not be done at all unless we take our life seriously and own the\nresponsibilities we have to ourselves, to our fellows, to our God.\n\nDeath comes sadly to the survivor, even when there is as little\nuntimeliness as in the case of Sarah; and as Abraham moved towards the\nfamiliar tent the most intimate of his household would stand aloof and\nrespect his grief. The stillness that struck upon him, instead of the\nusual greeting, as he lifted the tent-door; the dead order of all\ninside; the one object that lay stark before him and drew him again and\nagain to look on what grieved him most to see; the chill which ran\nthrough him as his lips touched the cold, stony forehead and gave him\nsensible evidence how gone was the spirit from the clay--these are\nshocks to the human heart not peculiar to Abraham. But few have been so\nstrangely bound together as these two were, or have been so manifestly\ngiven to one another by God, or have been forced to so close a mutual\ndependence. Not only had they grown up in the same family, and been\ntogether separated from their kindred, and passed through unusual and\ndifficult circumstances together, but they were made co-heirs of God's\npromise in such a manner that neither could enjoy it without the other.\nThey were knit together, not merely by natural liking and familiarity\nof intercourse, but by God's choosing them as the instrument of His work\nand the fountain of His salvation. So that in Sarah's death Abraham\ndoubtless read an intimation that his own work was done, and that his\ngeneration is now out of date and ready to be supplanted.\n\nAbraham's grief is interrupted by the sad but wholesome necessity which\nforces us from the blank desolation of watching by the dead to the\nactive duties that follow. She whose beauty had captivated two princes\nmust now be buried out of sight. So Abraham stands up from before his\ndead. Such a moment requires the resolute fortitude and manly\nself-control which that expression seems intended to suggest. There is\nsomething within us which rebels against the ordinary ongoing of the\nworld side by side with our great woe; we feel as if either the whole\nworld must mourn with us, or we must go aside from the world and have\nour grief out in private. The bustle of life seems so meaningless and\nincongruous to one whom grief has emptied of all relish for it. We seem\nto wrong the dead by every return of interest we show in the things of\nlife which no longer interest _him_. Yet he speaks truly who says:--\n\n    \"When sorrow all our heart would ask,\n    We need not shun our daily task,\n        And hide ourselves for calm;\n    The herbs we seek to heal our woe,\n    Familiar by our pathway grow,\n        Our common air is balm.\"\n\nWe must resume our duties, not as if nothing had happened, not proudly\nforgetting death and putting grief aside as if this life did not need\nthe chastening influence of such realities as we have been engaged\nwith, or as if its business could not be pursued in an affectionate and\nsoftened spirit, but acknowledging death as real and as humbling and\nsobering.\n\nAbraham then goes forth to seek a grave for Sarah, having already with a\ncommon predilection fixed on the spot where he himself would prefer to\nbe laid. He goes accordingly to the usual meeting-place or exchange of\nthese times, the city-gate, where bargains were made, and where\nwitnesses for their ratification could always be had. Men who are\nfamiliar with Eastern customs rather spoil for us the scene described in\nthis chapter by assuring us that all these courtesies and large offers\nare merely the ordinary forms preliminary to a bargain, and were as\nlittle meant to be literally understood as we mean to be literally\nunderstood when we sign ourselves \"your most obedient servant.\" Abraham\nasks the Hittite chiefs to approach Ephron on the subject, because all\nbargains of the kind are negotiated through mediators. Ephron's offer of\nthe cave and field is merely a form. Abraham quite understood that\nEphron only indicated his willingness to deal, and so he urges him to\nstate his price, which Ephron is not slow to do; and apparently his\nprice was a handsome one such as he could not have asked from a poorer\nman, for he adds, \"What are four hundred shekels between wealthy men\nlike you and me? Without more words let the bargain be closed--bury thy\ndead.\"\n\nThe first landed property, then, of the patriarchs is a grave. In this\ntomb were laid Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca; here, too, Jacob\nburied Leah, and here Jacob himself desired to be laid after his death,\nhis last words being, \"Bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in\nthe field of Ephron the Hittite.\" This grave, therefore, becomes the\ncentre of the land. Where the dust of our fathers is, there is our\ncountry; and as you may often hear aged persons, who are content to die\nand have little else to pray for, still express a wish that they may\nrest in the old well-remembered churchyard where their kindred lie, and\nmay thus in the weakness of death find some comfort, and in its\nsolitariness some companionship from the presence of those who tenderly\nsheltered the helplessness of their childhood; so does this place of the\ndead become henceforth the centre of attraction for all Abraham's seed\nto which still from Egypt their longings and hopes turn, as to the one\nmagnetic point which, having once been fixed there, binds them ever to\nthe land. It is this grave which binds them to the land. This laying of\nSarah in the tomb is the real occupation of the land.\n\nDuring the lapse of ages, all around this spot has been changed again\nand again; but at some remote period, possibly as early as the time of\nDavid, the reverence of the Jews built these tombs round with masonry so\nsubstantial that it still endures. Within the space thus enclosed there\nstood for long a Christian church, but since the Mohammedan domination\nwas established, a mosque has covered the spot. This mosque has been\nguarded against Christian intrusion with a jealousy almost as rigid as\nthat which excludes all unbelievers from approaching Mecca. And though\nthe Prince of Wales was a few years ago allowed to enter the mosque, he\nwas not permitted to make any examination of the vaults beneath, where\nthe original tomb must be.\n\nIt is evident that this narrative of the purchase of Machpelah and the\nburial of Sarah was preserved, not so much on account of the personal\ninterest which Abraham had in these matters, as on account of the\nmanifest significance they had in connection with the history of his\nfaith. He had recently heard from his own kindred in Mesopotamia, and it\nmight very naturally have occurred to him that the proper place to bury\nSarah was in his fatherland. The desire to lie among one's people is a\nvery strong Eastern sentiment. Even tribes which have no dislike to\nemigration make provision that at death their bodies shall be restored\nto their own country. The Chinese notoriously do so. Abraham, therefore,\ncould hardly have expressed his faith in a stronger form than by\npurchasing a burying-ground for himself in Canaan. It was equivalent to\nsaying in the most emphatic form that he believed this country would\nremain in perpetuity the country of his children and people. He had as\nyet given no such pledge as this was, that he had irrevocably abandoned\nhis fatherland. He had bought no other landed property; he had built no\nhouse. He shifted his encampment from place to place as convenience\ndictated, and there was nothing to hinder him from returning at any time\nto his old country. But now he fixed himself down; he said, as plainly\nas acts can say, that his mind was made up that this was to be in all\ntime coming his land; this was no mere right of pasture rented for the\nseason, no mere waste land he might occupy with his tents till its owner\nwished to reclaim it; it was no estate he could put into the market\nwhenever trade should become dull and he might wish to realise or to\nleave the country; but it was a kind of property which he could not sell\nand could not abandon.\n\nAgain, his determination to hold it in perpetuity is evident not only\nfrom the nature of the property, but also from the formal purchase and\nconveyance of it--the complete and precise terms in which the\ntransaction is completed. The narrative is careful to remind us again\nand again that the whole transaction was negotiated in the audience of\nthe people of the land, of all those who went in at the gate, that the\nsale was thoroughly approved and witnessed by competent authorities. The\nprecise subjects made over to Abraham are also detailed with all the\naccuracy of a legal document--\"the field of Ephron, which was in\nMachpelah, which was before Mamre, the field and the cave which was\ntherein, and all the trees that were in the field, that were in all the\nborders round about, were made sure unto Abraham for a possession in the\npresence of the children of Heth, before all that went in at the gate of\nhis city.\" Abraham had no doubt of the friendliness of such men as Aner,\nEshcol, and Mamre, his ancient allies, but he was also aware that the\nbest way to maintain friendly relations was to leave no loophole by\nwhich difference of opinion or disagreement might enter. Let the thing\nbe in black and white, so that there may be no misunderstanding as to\nterms, no expectations doomed to be unfulfilled, no encroachments which\nmust cause resentment, if not retaliation. Law probably does more to\nprevent quarrels than to heal them. As statesmen and historians tell us\nthat the best way to secure peace is to be prepared for war, so legal\ndocuments seem no doubt harsh and unfriendly, but really are more\neffective in maintaining peace and friendliness than vague promises and\nbenevolent intentions. In arranging affairs and engagements one is\nalways tempted to say, Never mind about the money, see how the thing\nturns out and we can settle that by-and-bye; or, in looking at a will,\none is tempted to ask, of what strength is Christian feeling--not to say\nfamily affection--if all these hard-and-fast lines need to be drawn\nround the little bit of property which each is to have? But experience\nshows that this is false delicacy, and that kindliness and charity may\nbe as fully and far more safely expressed in definite and legal terms\nthan in loose promises or mere understandings.\n\nAgain, Abraham's idea in purchasing this sepulchre is brought out by the\ncircumstance that he would not accept the offer of the children of Heth\nto use one of their sepulchres. This was not pride of blood or any\nfeeling of that sort, but the right feeling that what God had promised\nas His own peculiar gift must not seem to be given by men. Possibly no\ngreat harm might have come of it if Abraham had accepted the gift of a\nmere cave, or a shelf in some other man's burying-ground; but Abraham\ncould not bear to think that any captious person should ever be able to\nsay that the inheritance promised by God was really the gift of a\nHittite.\n\nSimilar captiousness appears not only in the experience of the\nindividual Christian, but also in the treatment religion gets from the\nworld. It is quite apparent, that is to say, that the world counts\nitself the real proprietor here, and Christianity a stranger fortunately\nor unfortunately thrown upon its shores and upon _its mercy_. One cannot\nmiss noticing the patronising way of the world towards the Church and\nall that is connected with it, as if it alone could give it those things\nneedful for its prosperity--and especially willing is it to come forward\nin the Hittite fashion and offer to the sojourner a sepulchre where it\nmay be decently buried, and as a dead thing lie out of the way.\n\nBut thoughts of a still wider reach were no doubt suggested to Abraham\nby this purchase. Often must he have brooded on the sacrifice of Isaac,\nseeking to exhaust its meaning. Many a talk in the dusk must his son and\nhe have had about that most strange experience. And no doubt the one\nthing that seemed always certain about it was, that it is through death\na man truly becomes the heir of God; and here again in this purchase of\na tomb for Sarah it is the same fact that stares him in the face. He\nbecomes a proprietor when death enters his family; he himself, he feels,\nis likely to have no more than this burial-acre of possession of his\nland; it is only by dying he enters on actual possession. Till then he\nis but a tenant, not a proprietor; as he says to the children of Heth,\nhe is but a stranger and a sojourner among them, but at death he will\ntake up his permanent dwelling in their midst. Was this not to suggest\nto him that there might be a deeper meaning underlying this, and that\npossibly it was only by death he could enter fully into all that God\nintended he should receive? No doubt in the first instance it was a\nsevere trial to his faith to find that even at his wife's death he had\nacquired no firmer foothold in the land. No doubt it was the very\ntriumph of his faith that though he himself had never had a settled,\npermanent residence in the land, but had dwelt in tents, moving about\nfrom place to place, just as he had done the first year of his entrance\nupon it, yet he died in the unalterable persuasion that the land was\nhis, and that it would one day be filled with his descendants. It was\nthe triumph of his faith that he believed in the performance of the\npromise as he had originally understood it; that he believed in the gift\nof the actual visible land. But it is difficult to believe that he did\nnot come to the persuasion that God's friendship was more than any\nsingle thing He promised; difficult to suppose he did not feel\nsomething of what our Lord expressed in the words that God is the God of\nthe living, not of the dead; that those who are His enter by death into\nsome deeper and richer experience of His love.\n\nSuch is the interpretation put upon Abraham's attitude of mind by the\nwriter, who of all others saw most deeply into the moving principles of\nthe Old Testament dispensation and the connection between old things and\nnew--I mean the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews. He says that\npersons who act as Abraham did declare plainly that they seek a country;\nand if on finding they did not get the country in which they sojourned\nthey thought the promise had failed, they might, he says, have found\nopportunity to return to the country whence they came at first. And why\ndid they not do so? Because they sought a better, that is, an heavenly\ncountry. Wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He\nhath prepared for them a city; as if He said, God would have been\nashamed of Abraham if he had been content with less, and had not aspired\nto something more than he received in the land of Canaan.\n\nNow how else could Abraham's mind have been so effectually lifted to\nthis exalted hope as by the disappointment of his original and much\ntamer hope? Had he gained possession of the land in the ordinary way of\npurchase or conquest, and had he been able to make full use of it for\nthe purposes of life; had he acquired meadows where his cattle might\ngraze, towns where his followers might establish themselves, would he\nnot almost certainly have fallen into the belief that in these pastures\nand by his worldly wealth and quiet and prosperity he was already\nexhausting God's promise regarding the land? But buying the land for\nhis dead he is forced to enter upon it from the right side, with the\nidea that not by present enjoyment of its fertility is God's promise to\nhim exhausted. Both in the getting of his heir and in the acquisition of\nhis land his mind is led to contemplate things beyond the range of\nearthly vision and earthly success. He is led to the thought that God\nhaving become his God, this means blessing eternal as God Himself. In\nshort Abraham came to believe in a life beyond the grave on very much\nthe same grounds as many people still rely on. They feel that this life\nhas an unaccountable poverty and meagreness in it. They feel that they\nthemselves are much larger than the life here allotted to them. They are\nout of proportion. It may be said that this is their own fault; they\nshould make life a larger, richer thing. But that is only apparently\ntrue; the very brevity of life, which no skill of theirs can alter, is\nitself a limiting and disappointing condition. Moreover, it seems\nunworthy of God as well as of man. As soon as a worthy conception of God\npossesses the soul, the idea of immortality forthwith follows it. We\ninstinctively feel that God can do far more for us than is done in this\nlife. Our knowledge of Him here is most rudimentary; our connection with\nHim obscure and perplexed, and wanting in fulness of result; we seem\nscarcely to know whose we are, and scarcely to be reconciled to the\nessential conditions of life, or even to God;--we are, in short, in a\nvery different kind of life from that which we can conceive and desire.\nBesides, a serious belief in God, in a personal Spirit, removes at a\ntouch all difficulties arising from materialism. If God lives and yet\nhas no senses or bodily appearance, we also may so live; and if His is\nthe higher state and the more enjoyable state, we need not dread to\nexperience life as disembodied spirits.\n\nIt is certainly a most acceptable lesson that is read to us here--viz.,\nthat God's promises do not shrivel, but grow solid and expand as we\ngrasp them. Abraham went out to enter on possession of a few fields a\nlittle richer than his own, and he found an eternal inheritance.\nNaturally we think quite the opposite of God's promises; we fancy they\nare grandiloquent and magnify things, and that the actual fulfilment\nwill prove unworthy of the language describing it. But as the woman who\ncame to touch the hem of Christ's garment with some dubious hope that\nthus her body might be healed, found herself thereby linked to Christ\nfor evermore, so always, if we meet God at any one point and honestly\ntrust Him for even the smallest gift, He makes that the means of\nintroducing Himself to us and getting us to understand the value of His\nbetter gifts. And indeed, if this life were all, might not God well be\nashamed to call Himself our God? When He calls Himself our God He bids\nus expect to find in Him inexhaustible resources to protect and satisfy\nand enrich us. He bids us cherish boldly all innocent and natural\ndesires, believing that we have in Him one who can gratify every such\ndesire. But if this life be all, who can say existence has been\nperfectly satisfactory--if there be no reversal of what has here gone\nwrong, no restoration of what has here been lost, if there be no life in\nwhich conscience and ideas and hopes find their fulfilment and\nsatisfaction, who can say he is content and could ask no more of God?\nWho can say he does not see what more God could do for him than has here\nbeen done? Doubtless there are many happy lives, doubtless there are\nlives which carry in them a worthiness and a sacredness which manifest\nGod's presence, but even such lives only more powerfully suggest a state\nin which all lives shall be holy and happy, and in which, freed from\ninward uneasiness and shame and sorrow, we shall live unimpeded the\nhighest life, life as we feel it ought to be. The very joys men have\nhere experienced suggest to them the desirableness of continued life;\nthe love they have known can only intensify their yearning for this\nperpetual enjoyment; their whole experience of this life has served to\nreveal to them the endless possibilities of growth and of activity that\nare bound up in human nature; and if death is to end all this, what more\nhas life been to any of us than a seed-time without a harvest, an\neducation without any sphere of employment, a vision of good that can\nnever be ours, a striving after the unattainable? If this is all that\nGod can give us we must indeed be disappointed in Him.\n\nBut He is disappointed in us if we do not aspire to more than this. In\nthis sense also He is ashamed to be called our God. He is ashamed to be\nknown as the God of men who never aspire to higher blessings than\nearthly comfort and present prosperity. He is ashamed to be known as\nconnected with those who think so lightly of His power that they look\nfor nothing beyond what every man calculates on getting in this world.\nGod means all present blessings and all blessings of a lower kind to\nlure us on to trust Him and seek more and more from Him. In these early\npromises of His He says nothing expressly and distinctly of things\neternal. He appeals to the immediate wants and present longings of\nmen--just as our Lord while on earth drew men to Himself by healing\ntheir diseases. Take, then, any one promise of God, and, however small\nit seems at first, it will grow in your hand; you will find always that\nyou get more than you bargained for, that you cannot take even a little\nwithout going further and receiving all.\n\n\n\n\nXIX.\n\n_ISAAC'S MARRIAGE._\n\nGENESIS xxiv.\n\n    \"Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth\n    the Lord, she shall be praised.\"--PROV. xxxi. 30.\n\n\n\"When a son has attained the age of twenty years, his father, if able,\nshould marry him, and then take his hand and say, I have disciplined\nthee, and taught thee, and married thee; I now seek refuge with God from\nthy mischief in the present world and the next.\" This Mohammedan\ntradition expresses with tolerable accuracy the idea of the Eastern\nworld, that a father has not discharged his responsibilities towards his\nson until he finds a wife for him. Abraham no doubt fully recognised his\nduty in this respect, but he had allowed Isaac to pass the usual age. He\nwas thirty-seven at his mother's death, forty when the events of this\nchapter occurred. This delay was occasioned by two causes. The bond\nbetween Isaac and his mother was an unusually strong one; and alongside\nof that imperious woman a young wife would have found it even more\ndifficult than usual to take a becoming place. Besides, where was a wife\nto be found? No doubt some of Abraham's Hittite friends would have\nconsidered any daughter of theirs exceptionally fortunate who should\nsecure so good an alliance. The heir of Abraham was no inconsiderable\nperson even when measured by Hittite expectations. And it may have taxed\nAbraham's sagacity to find excuses for not forming an alliance which\nseemed so natural, and which would have secured to him and his heirs a\nsettled place in the country. This was so obvious, common, easily\naccomplished a means of gaining a footing for Isaac among somewhat\ndangerous neighbours, that it stands to reason Abraham must often have\nweighed its advantages.\n\nBut as often as he weighed the advantages of this solution of his\ndifficulty, so often did he reject them. He was resolved that the race\nshould be of pure Hebrew blood. His own experience in connection with\nHagar had given this idea a settled prominence in his mind. And,\naccordingly, in his instructions to the servant whom he sent to find a\nwife for Isaac, two things were insisted on--1st, that she should not be\na Canaanite; and, 2nd, that on no pretext should Isaac be allowed to\nleave the land of promise and visit Mesopotamia. The steward, knowing\nsomething of men and women, foresaw that it was most unlikely that a\nyoung woman would forsake her own land and preconceived hopes and go\naway with a stranger to a foreign country. Abraham believes she will be\npersuaded. But in any case, he says, one thing must be seen to; Isaac\nmust on no account be induced to leave the promised land even to visit\nMesopotamia. God will furnish Isaac with a wife without putting him into\ncircumstances of great temptation, without requiring him to go into\nsocieties in the slightest degree injurious to his faith. In fact,\nAbraham refused to do what countless Christian mothers of marriageable\nsons and daughters do without compunction. He had an insight into the\nreal influences that form action and determine careers which many of us\nsadly lack.\n\nAnd his faith was rewarded. The tidings from his brother's family\narrived in the nick of time. Light, he found, was sown for the upright.\nIt happened with him as it has doubtless often happened with ourselves,\nthat though we have been looking forward to a certain time with much\nanxiety, unable even to form a plan of action, yet when the time\nactually came, things seemed to arrange themselves, and the thing to do\nbecame quite obvious. Abraham was persuaded God would send His angel to\nbring the affair to a happy issue. And when we seem drifting towards\nsome great upturning of our life, or when things seem to come all of a\nsudden and in crowds upon us, so that we cannot judge what we should do,\nit is an animating thought that another eye than ours is penetrating the\ndarkness, finding for us a way through all entanglement and making\ncrooked things straight for us.\n\nBut the patience of Isaac was quite as remarkable as the faith of\nAbraham. He was now forty years old, and if, as he had been told, the\ngreat aim of his life, the great service he was to render to the world,\nwas bound up with the rearing of a family, he might with some reason be\nwondering why circumstances were so adverse to the fulfilment of this\nvocation. Must he not have been tempted, as his father had been, to take\nmatters into his own hand? Fathers are perhaps too scrupulous about\ntelling their sons instructive passages from their own experience; but\nwhen Abraham saw Isaac exercised and discomposed about this matter, he\ncan scarcely have failed to strengthen his spirit by telling him\nsomething of his own mistakes in life. Abraham must have seen that\neverything depended on Isaac's conduct, and that he had a very\ndifficult part to play. He himself had been supernaturally encouraged to\nleave his own land and sojourn in Canaan; on the other hand, by the time\nJacob grew up, the idea of the promised land had become traditional and\nfixed; though even Jacob, had he found Laban a better master, might have\npermanently renounced his expectations in Canaan. But Isaac enjoyed the\nadvantages neither of the first nor of the third generation. The coming\ninto Canaan was not his doing, and he saw how little of the land Abraham\nhad gained. He was under strong temptation to disbelieve. And when he\nmeasured his condition with that of other young men, he certainly\nrequired unusual self-control. And to every one who would urge, Youth is\npassing, and I am not getting what I expected at God's hand; I have not\nreceived that providential leading I was led to expect, nor do I find\nthat my life is made simpler; it is very well to tell me to wait, but\nlife is slipping away, and we may wait too long--to every one whose\nheart urges such murmurs, Abraham through Isaac would say: But if you\nwait for God you get something, some positive good, and not some mere\nappearance of good; you at last do get begun, you get into life at the\nright door; whereas if you follow some other way than that which you\nbelieve God wishes to lead you in, you get nothing.\n\nIsaac's continence had its reward. In the suitableness of Rebekah to a\nman of his nature, we see the suitableness of all such gifts of God as\nare really waited for at His hand. God may keep us longer waiting than\nthe world does, but He gives us never the wrong thing. Isaac had no idea\nof Rebekah's character; he could only yield himself to God's knowledge\nof what he needed; and so there came to him, from a country he had\nnever seen, a help-meet singularly adapted to his own character. One\ncannot read of her lively, bustling, almost forward, but obliging and\ngenerous conduct at the well, nor of her prompt, impulsive departure to\nan unknown land, without seeing, as no doubt Eliezer very quickly saw,\nthat this was exactly the woman for Isaac. In this eager, ardent,\nactive, enterprising spirit, his own retiring and contemplative, if not\nsombre disposition found its appropriate relief and stimulus. Hers was a\nspirit which might indeed, with so mild a lord, take more of the\nmanagement of affairs than was befitting; and when the wear and tear of\nlife had tamed down the girlish vivacity with which she spoke to Eliezer\nat the well, and leapt from the camel to meet her lord, her\nactive-mindedness does appear in the disagreeable shape of the clever\nscheming of the mother of a family. In her sons you see her qualities\nexaggerated: from her, Esau derived his activity and open-handedness;\nand in Jacob, you find that her self-reliant and unscrupulous management\nhas become a self-asserting craft which leads him into much trouble, if\nit also sometimes gets him out of difficulties. But such as Rebekah was,\nshe was quite the woman to attract Isaac and supplement his character.\n\nSo in other cases where you find you must leave yourself very much in\nGod's hand, what He sends you will be found more precisely adapted to\nyour character than if you chose it for yourself. You find your whole\nnature has been considered,--your aims, your hopes, your wants, your\nposition, whatever in you waits for something unattained. And as in\ngiving to Isaac the intended mother of the promised seed, God gave him a\nwoman who fitted in to all the peculiarities of his nature, and was a\ncomfort and a joy to him in his own life; so we shall always find that\nGod, in satisfying His own requirements, satisfies at the same time our\nwants--that God carries forward His work in the world by the\nsatisfaction of the best and happiest feelings of our nature, so that it\nis not only the result that is blessedness, but blessing is created\nalong its whole course.\n\nAbraham's servant, though not very sanguine of success, does all in his\npower to earn it. He sets out with an equipment fitted to inspire\nrespect and confidence. But as he draws nearer and nearer to the city of\nNahor, revolving the delicate nature of his errand, and feeling that\ndefinite action must now be taken, he sees so much room for making an\nirreparable mistake that he resolves to share his responsibility with\nthe God of his master. And the manner in which he avails himself of\nGod's guidance is remarkable. He does not ask God to guide him to the\nhouse of Bethuel; indeed, there was no occasion to do so, for any child\ncould have pointed out the house to him. But he was a cautious person,\nand he wished to make his own observations on the appearance and conduct\nof the younger women of the household, before in any way committing\nhimself to them. He was free to make these observations at the well;\nwhile he felt it must be very awkward to enter Laban's house with the\npossibility of leaving it dissatisfied. At the same time, he felt it was\nfor God rather than for him to choose a wife for Isaac. So he made an\narrangement by which the interposition of God was provided for. He meant\nto make his own selection, guided necessarily by the comparative\nattractiveness of the women who came for water, possibly also by some\nfamily likeness to Sarah or Isaac he might expect to see in any women\nof Bethuel's house; but knowing the deceitfulness of appearances, he\nasked God to confirm and determine his own choice by moving the girl he\nshould address to give him a certain answer. Having arranged this,\n\"Behold! Rebekah came out with her pitcher upon her shoulder, and the\ndamsel was very fair to look upon.\" In the Bible the beauty of women is\nfrankly spoken of without prudery or mawkishness as an influence in\nhuman affairs. The beauty of Rebekah at once disposed Eliezer to address\nher, and his first impression in her favour was confirmed by the\nobliging, cheerful alacrity with which she did very much more than she\nwas asked, and, indeed, took upon herself, through her kindness of\ndisposition, a task of some trouble and fatigue.\n\nIt is important to observe then in what sense and to what extent this\ncapable servant asked a sign. He did not ask for a bare, intrinsically\ninsignificant sign. He might have done so. He might have proposed as a\ntest, Let her who stumbles on the first step of the well be the designed\nwife of Isaac; or, Let her who comes with a certain-coloured flower in\nher hand--or so forth. But the sign he chose was significant, because\ndependent on the character of the girl herself; a sign which must reveal\nher good-heartedness and readiness to oblige and courteous activity in\nthe entertainment of strangers--in fact, the outstanding Eastern virtue.\nSo that he really acted very much as Isaac himself must have done. He\nwould make no approach to any one whose appearance repelled him; and\nwhen satisfied in this particular, he would test her disposition. And of\ncourse it was these qualities of Rebekah which afterwards caused Isaac\nto feel that this was the wife God had designed for him. It was not by\nany arbitrary sign that he or any man could come to know who was the\nsuitable wife for him, but only by the love she aroused within him. God\nhas given this feeling to direct choice in marriage; and where this is\nwanting, nothing else whatever, no matter how astoundingly providential\nit seems, ought to persuade a man that such and such a person is\ndesigned to be his wife.\n\nThere are turning points in life at once so momentous in their\nconsequence, and affording so little material for choice, that one is\nmuch tempted to ask for more than providential leading. Not only among\nsavages and heathen have omens been sought. Among Christians there has\nbeen manifest a constant disposition to appeal to the lot, or to accept\nsome arbitrary way of determining which course we should follow. In very\nmany predicaments we should be greatly relieved were there some one who\ncould at once deliver us from all hesitation and mental conflict by one\nauthoritative word. There are, perhaps, few things more frequently and\ndeterminedly wished for, nor regarding which we are so much tempted to\nfeel that such a thing should be, as some infallible guide before whom\nwe could lay every difficulty; who would tell us at once what ought to\nbe done in each case, and whether we ought to continue as we are or make\nsome change. But only consider for a moment what would be the\nconsequence of having such a guide. At every important step of your\nprogress you would, of course, instantly turn to him; as soon as doubt\nentered your mind regarding the moral quality of an action, or the\npropriety of a course you think of adopting, you would be at your\ncounsellor. And what would be the consequence? The consequence would be,\nthat instead of the various circumstances, experiences, and temptations\nof this life being a training to you, your conscience would every day\nbecome less able to guide you, and your will less able to decide, until,\ninstead of being a mature son of God, who has learned to conform his\nconscience and will to the will of God, you would be quite imbecile as a\nmoral creature. What God desires by our training here is, that we become\nlike to Him; that there be nurtured in us a power to discern between\ngood and evil; that by giving our own voluntary consent to His\nappointments, and that by discovering in various and perplexing\ncircumstances what is the right thing to do, we may have our own moral\nnatures as enlightened, strengthened, and fully developed every way as\npossible. The object of God in declaring His will to us is not to point\nout particular steps, but to bring our wills into conformity with His,\nso that whether we err in any particular step or no, we shall still be\nnear to Him in intention. He does with us as we with children. We do not\nalways at once relieve them from their little difficulties, but watch\nwith interest the working of their own conscience regarding the matter,\nand will give them no sign till they themselves have decided.\n\nEvidently, therefore, before we may dare to ask a sign from God, the\ncase must be a very special one. If you are at present engaged in\nsomething that is to your own conscience doubtful, and if you are not\nhiding this from God, but would very willingly, so far as you know your\nown mind, do in the matter what He pleases--if no further light is\ncoming to you, and you feel a growing inclination to put it to God in\nthis way: \"Grant, O Lord, that something may happen by which I may know\nThy mind in this matter\"--this is asking from God a kind of help which\nHe is very ready to give, often leading men to clearer views of duty by\nevents which happen within their knowledge, and which having no special\nsignificance to persons whose minds are differently occupied, are yet\nmost instructive to those who are waiting for light on some particular\npoint. The danger is not here, but in fixing God down to the special\nthing which shall happen as a sign between Him and you; which, when it\nhappens, gives no fresh light on the subject, leaves your mind still\n_morally_ undecided, but only binds you, by an arbitrary bargain of your\nown, to follow one course rather than another. This matter that you\nwould so summarily dispose of may be the very thread of your life which\nGod means to test you by; this state of indecision which you would\nevade, God may mean to continue until your moral character grows strong\nenough to rise above it to the right decision.\n\nNo one will suppose that Rebekah's readiness to leave her home was due\nto mere light-mindedness. Her motives were no doubt mixed. The worldly\nposition offered to her was good, and there was an attractive spice of\nromance about the whole affair which would have its charm. She may also\nbe credited with some apprehension of the great future of Isaac's\nfamily. In after life she certainly showed a very keen sense of the\nvalue of the blessings peculiar to that household. And, probably above\nall, she had an irresistible feeling that this was her destiny. She saw\nthe hand of God in her selection, and with a more or less conscious\nfaith in God she passed to her new life.\n\nHer first meeting with her future husband is not the least picturesque\npassage in this most picturesque narrative. Isaac had gone out on that\nside of the encampment by which he knew his father's messenger was most\nlikely to approach. He had gone out \"to meditate at even-tide;\" his\nmeditation being necessarily directed and intensified by his attitude of\ncritical expectancy.\n\nThe evening light, in our country hanging dubiously between the glare of\nnoon and the darkness of midnight, invites to that condition of mind\nwhich lies between the intense alertness of day and the deep oblivion of\nsleep, and which seems the most favourable for the meditation of divine\nthings. The dusk of evening seems interposed between day and night to\ninvite us to that reflection which should intervene betwixt our labour\nand our rest from labour, that we may leave our work behind us satisfied\nthat we have done what we could, or, seeing its faultiness, may still\nlay us down to sleep with God's forgiveness. It is when the bright\nsunlight has gone, and no more reproaches our inactivity, that friends\ncan enjoy prolonged intercourse, and can best unbosom to one another, as\nif the darkness gave opportunity for a tenderness which would be ashamed\nto show itself during the twelve hours in which a man shall work. And\nall that makes this hour so beloved by the family circle, and so\nconducive to friendly intercourse, makes it suitable also for such\nintercourse with God as each human soul can attempt. Most of us suppose\nwe have some little plot of time railed off for God morning and evening,\nbut how often does it get trodden down by the profane multitude of this\nworld's cares, and quite occupied by encroaching secular engagements.\nBut evening is the time when many men are, and when all men ought to be\nleast hurried; when the mind is placid, but not yet prostrate; when the\nbody requires rest from its ordinary labour, but is not yet so oppressed\nwith fatigue as to make devotion a mockery; when the din of this world's\nbusiness is silenced, and as a sleeper wakes to consciousness when some\naccustomed noise is checked, so the soul now wakes up to the thought of\nitself and of God. I know not whether those of us who have the\nopportunity have also the resolution to sequester ourselves evening by\nevening, as Isaac did; but this I do know, that he who does so will not\nfail of his reward, but will very speedily find that his Father who\nseeth in secret is manifestly rewarding him. What we all need above all\nthings is to let the mind _dwell_ on divine things--to be able to sit\ndown knowing we have so much clear time in which we shall not be\ndisturbed, and during which we shall think directly under God's eye--to\nget quite rid of the feeling of getting through with something, so that\nwithout distraction the soul may take a deliberate survey of its own\nmatters. And so shall often God's gifts appear on our horizon when we\nlift up our eyes, as Isaac \"lifted up his eyes and saw the camels\ncoming\" with his bride.\n\nTwilight, \"nature's vesper-bell,\" or the light shaded at evening by the\nhills of Palestine, seems, then, to have called Isaac to a familiar\noccupation. This long-continued mourning for his mother, and his lonely\nmeditation in the fields, are both in harmony with what we know of his\ncharacter, and of his experience on Mount Moriah. Retiring and\ncontemplative, willing to conciliate by concession rather than to assert\nand maintain his rights against opposition, glad to yield his own\naffairs to the strong guidance of some other hand, tender and deep in\nhis affections, to him this lonely meditation seems singularly\nappropriate. His dwelling, too, was remote, on the edge of the\nwilderness, by the well which Hagar had named Lahai-roi. Here he dwelt\nas one consecrated to God, feeling little desire to enter deeper into\nthe world, and preferring the place where the presence of God was least\ndisturbed by the society of men. But at this time he had come from the\nsouth, and was awaiting at his father's encampment the result of\nEliezer's mission. And one can conceive the thrill of keen expectancy\nthat shot through him as he saw the female figure alighting from the\ncamel, the first eager exchange of greetings, and the gladness with\nwhich he brought Rebekah into his mother Sarah's tent and was comforted\nafter his mother's death. The readiness with which he loved her seems to\nbe referred in the narrative to the grief he still felt for his mother;\nfor as a candle is never so easily lit as just after it has been put\nout, so the affection of Isaac, still emitting the sad memorial of a\npast love, more quickly caught at the new object presented. And thus was\nconsummated a marriage which shows us how thoroughly interwrought are\nthe plans of God and the life of man, each fulfilling the other.\n\nFor as the salvation God introduces into the world is a practical,\nevery-day salvation to deliver us from the sins which this life tempts\nus to, so God introduced this salvation by means of the natural\naffections and ordinary arrangements of human life. God would have us\nrecognise in our lives what He shows us in this chapter, that He has\nmade provision for our wants, and that if we wait upon Him He will bring\nus into the enjoyment of all we really need. So that if we are to make\nany advance in appropriating to ourselves God's salvation, it can only\nbe by submitting ourselves implicitly to His providence, and taking care\nthat in the commonest and most secular actions of our lives we are\nhaving respect to His will with us, and that in those actions in which\nour own feelings and desires seem sufficient to guide us, we are having\nregard to His controlling wisdom and goodness. We are to find room for\nGod everywhere in our lives, not feeling embarrassed by the thought of\nHis claims even in our least constrained hours, but subordinating to His\nhighest and holiest ends everything that our life contains, and\nacknowledging as His gift what may seem to be our own most proper\nconquest or earning.\n\n\n\n\nXX.\n\n_ESAU AND JACOB._\n\nGENESIS xxv.\n\n    \"He goeth as an ox goeth to the slaughter, till a dart strike\n    through his liver; as a bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not\n    that it is for his life.\"--PROV. vii. 22, 23.\n\n\nThe character and career of Isaac would seem to tell us that it is\npossible to have too great a father. Isaac was dwarfed and weakened by\ngrowing up under the shadow of Abraham. Of his life there was little to\nrecord, and what was recorded was very much a reproduction of some of\nthe least glorious passages of his father's career. The digging of wells\nfor his flocks was among the most notable events in his commonplace\nlife, and even in this he only re-opened the wells his father had dug.\n\nIn him we see the result of growing up under too strong and dominant an\nexternal influence. The free and healthy play of his own capacities and\nwill was curbed. The sons of outstanding fathers are much tempted to\nfollow in the wake of _their_ success, and be too much controlled and\nlimited by the example therein set to them. There is a great deal to\ninduce a son to do so; this calling has been successful in his father's\ncase, what better can he do than follow? Also he may get the use of his\n_wells_--those sources his father has opened for the easier or more\nabundant maintenance of those dependent on him, the business he has\nestablished, the practice he has made, the connections he has\nformed--these are useful if he follows in his father's line of life. But\nall this tends, as in Isaac's case, to the stunting of the man himself.\nLife is made too easy for him.\n\nIsaac has been called \"the Wordsworth of the Old Testament,\" but his\nmeditative disposition seems to have degenerated into mere dreamy\napathy, which, at last, made him the tool of the more active-minded\nmembers of his family, and was also attended by its common accompaniment\nof sensuality. It seems also to have brought him to a condition of\nalmost entire bodily prostration, for a comparison of dates shows that\nhe must have spent forty or fifty years in blindness and incapacity for\nall active duty. Neither can this greatly surprise us, for it is\nabundantly open to our own observation that men of the finest spiritual\ndiscernment, and of whose godliness in the main one cannot doubt, are\nalso frequently the prey of the most childish tastes, and most useless\neven to the extent of doing harm in practical matters. They do not see\nthe evil that is growing in their own family; or, if they see it, they\ncannot rouse themselves to check it.\n\nIsaac's marriage, though so promising in the outset, brought new trial\ninto his life. Rebekah had to repeat the experience of Sarah. The\nintended mother of the promised seed was left for twenty years\nchildless--to contend with the doubts, surmises, evil proposals, proud\nchallengings of God, and murmurings, which must undoubtedly have arisen\neven in so bright and spirited a heart as Rebekah's. It was thus she was\ntaught the seriousness of the position she had chosen for herself, and\ngradually led to the implicit faith requisite for the discharge of its\nresponsibilities. Many young persons have a similar experience. They\nseem to themselves to have chosen a wrong position, to have made a\nthorough mistake in life, and to have brought themselves into\ncircumstances in which they only retard, or quite prevent, the\nprosperity of those with whom they are connected. In proportion as\nRebekah loved Isaac, and entered into his prospects, must she have been\ntempted to think she had far better have remained in Padan-aram. It is a\nhumbling thing to stand in some other person's way; but if it is by no\nfault of ours, but in obedience to affection or conscience we are in\nthis position, we must, in humility and patience, wait upon Providence\nas Rebekah did, and resist all morbid despondency.\n\nThis second barrenness in the prospective mother of the promised seed\nwas as needful to all concerned as the first was; for the people of God,\nno more than any others, can learn in one lesson. They must again be\nbrought to a real dependence on God as the Giver of the heir. The prayer\nwith which Isaac \"entreated\" the Lord for his wife \"because she was\nbarren\" was a prayer of deeper intensity than he could have uttered had\nhe merely remembered the story that had been told him of his own birth.\nGod must be recognised again and again and throughout as the Giver of\nlife to the promised line. We are all apt to suppose that when once we\nhave got a thing in train and working we can get on without God. How\noften do we pray for the bestowal of a blessing, and forget to pray for\nits continuance? How often do we count it enough that God has conferred\nsome gift, and, not inviting Him to continue His agency, but trusting to\nourselves, we mar His gift in the use? Learn, therefore, that although\nGod has given you means of working out His salvation, your Rebekah will\nbe barren without His continued activity. On His own means you must\nre-invite His blessing, for without the continuance of His aid you will\nmake nothing of the most beautiful and appropriate helps He has given\nyou.\n\nIt was by pain, anxiety, and almost dismay, that Rebekah received\nintimation that her prayer was answered. In this she is the type of many\nwhom God hears. Inward strife, miserable forebodings, deep dejection,\nare often the first intimations that God is listening to our prayer and\nis beginning to work within us. You have prayed that God would make you\nmore a blessing to those about you, more useful in your place, more\nanswerable to His ends: and when your prayer has risen to its highest\npoint of confidence and expectation, you are thrown into what seems a\nworse state than ever, your heart is broken within you, you say, Is this\nthe answer to my prayer, is this God's blessing; if it be so, why am I\nthus? For things that make a man serious, happen when God takes him in\nhand, and they that yield themselves to His service will not find that\nthat service is all honour and enjoyment. Its first steps will often\nland us in a position we can make nothing of, and our attempts to aid\nothers will get us into difficulties with them; and especially will our\ndesire that Christ be formed in us bring into such lively action the\nevil nature that is in us, that we are torn by the conflict, and our\nheart lies like the ground of a fierce struggle, seamed and furrowed,\ntossed and confused. As soon as there is a movement within us in one\ndirection, immediately there is an opposing movement: as soon as one of\nthe natures says, Do this; the other says, Do it not. The better nature\nis gaining slightly the upper hand, and by a long, steady strain, seems\nto be wearying out the other, when suddenly there is one quick stroke\nand the evil nature conquers. And every movement of the parties is with\npain to ourselves; either conscience is wronged, and gives out its cry\nof shame, or our natural desires are trodden down, and that also is\npain. And so disconnected and connected are we, so entirely one with\nboth parties, and yet so able to contemplate both that Rebekah's\ndistress seems aptly enough to symbolize our own. And whether the symbol\nbe apt or no, there can be no question that he who enquires of the Lord\nas she did, will receive a similar assurance that there are two natures\nwithin him, and that \"the elder shall serve the younger,\" the nature\nlast formed, and that seems to give least promise of life, shall master\nthe original, eldest born child of the flesh.\n\nThe children whose birth and destinies were thus predicted, at once gave\nevidence of a difference even greater than that which will often strike\none as existing between two brothers, though rarely between twins. The\nfirst was born, all over like a hairy garment, presenting the appearance\nof being rolled up in a fur cloak or the skin of an animal--an\nappearance which did not pass away in childhood, but so obstinately\nadhered to him through life, that an imitation of his hands could be\nproduced with the hairy skin of a kid. This was by his parents\nconsidered ominous. The want of the hairy covering which the lower\nanimals have, is one of the signs marking out man as destined for a\nhigher and more refined life than they; and when their son appeared in\nthis guise, they could not but fear it prognosticated his sensual,\nanimal career. So they called him Esau. And so did the younger son from\nthe first show his nature, catching the heel of his brother, as if he\nwere striving to be firstborn; and so they called him Jacob, the\nheel-catcher or supplanter--as Esau afterwards bitterly observed, a name\nwhich precisely suited his crafty, plotting nature, shown in his twice\nover tripping up and overthrowing his elder brother. The name which Esau\nhanded down to his people was, however, not his original name, but one\nderived from the colour of that for which he sold his birthright. It was\nin that exclamation of his, \"Feed me with that same _red_,\" that he\ndisclosed his character.\n\nSo different in appearance at birth, they grew up of very different\ncharacter; and as was natural, he who had the quiet nature of his father\nwas beloved by the mother, and he who had the bold, practical skill of\nthe mother was clung to by the father. It seems unlikely that Rebekah\nwas influenced in her affection by anything but natural motives, though\nthe fact that Jacob was to be the heir must have been much on her mind,\nand may have produced the partiality which maternal pride sometimes\nbegets. But before we condemn Isaac, or think the historian has not\ngiven a full account of his love for Esau, let us ask what we have\nnoticed about the growth and decay of our own affections. We are ashamed\nof Isaac; but have we not also been sometimes ashamed of ourselves on\nseeing that our affections are powerfully influenced by the\ngratification of tastes almost or quite as low as this of Isaac's? He\nwho cunningly panders to our taste for applause, he who purveys for us\nsome sweet morsel of scandal, he who flatters or amuses us, straightway\ntakes a place in our affections which we do not accord to men of much\nfiner parts, but who do not so minister to our sordid appetites.\n\nThe character of Jacob is easily understood. It has frequently been\nremarked of him that he is thoroughly a Jew, that in him you find the\ngood and bad features of the Jewish character very prominent and\nconspicuous. He has that mingling of craft and endurance which has\nenabled his descendants to use for their own ends those who have wronged\nand persecuted them. The Jew has, with some justice and some injustice,\nbeen credited with an obstinate and unscrupulous resolution to forward\nhis own interests, and there can be no question that in this respect\nJacob is the typical Jew--ruthlessly taking advantage of his brother,\nwatching and waiting till he was sure of his victim; deceiving his blind\nfather, and robbing him of what he had intended for his favourite son;\noutwitting the grasping Laban, and making at least his own out of all\nattempts to rob him; unable to meet his brother without stratagem; not\nforgetting prudence even when the honour of his family is stained; and\nnot thrown off his guard even by his true and deep affection for Joseph.\nYet, while one recoils from this craftiness and management, one cannot\nbut admire the quiet force of character, the indomitable tenacity, and,\nabove all, the capacity for warm affection and lasting attachments, that\nhe showed throughout.\n\nBut the quality which chiefly distinguished Jacob from his hunting and\nmarauding brother was his desire for the friendship of God and\nsensibility to spiritual influences. It may have been Jacob's\nconsciousness of his own meanness that led him to crave connection with\nsome Being or with some prospect that might ennoble his nature and lift\nhim above his innate disposition. It is an old, old truth that not many\nnoble are called; and, seeing quite as plainly as others see their\nfeebleness and meanness, the ignoble conceive a self-loathing which is\nsometimes the beginning of an unquenchable thirst for the high and holy\nGod. The consciousness of your bad, poor nature may revive within you\nday by day, as the remembrance of physical weakness returns to the\ninvalid with every morning's light; but to what else can God so\neffectively appeal when he offers you present fellowship with Himself\nand eventual conformity to His own nature?\n\nIt has been pointed out that the weakness in Esau's character which\nmakes him so striking a contrast to his brother is his inconstancy.\n\n                                    \"That one error\n    Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins.\"\n\nConstancy, persistence, dogged tenacity is certainly the striking\nfeature of Jacob's character. He could wait and bide his time; he could\nretain one purpose year after year till it was accomplished. The very\nmotto of his life was, \"I will not let Thee go except Thou bless me.\" He\nwatched for Esau's weak moment, and took advantage of it. He served\nfourteen years for the woman he loved, and no hardship quenched his\nlove. Nay, when a whole lifetime intervened, and he lay dying in Egypt,\nhis constant heart still turned to Rachel, as if he had parted with her\nbut yesterday. In contrast with this tenacious, constant character\nstands Esau, led by impulse, betrayed by appetite, everything by turns\nand nothing long. To-day despising his birthright, to-morrow breaking\nhis heart for its loss; to-day vowing he will murder his brother,\nto-morrow falling on his neck and kissing him; a man you cannot reckon\nupon, and of too shallow a nature for anything to root itself deeply in.\n\nThe event in which the contrasted characters of the twin brothers were\nmost decisively shown, so decisively shown that their destinies were\nfixed by it, was an incident which, in its external circumstances, was\nof the most ordinary and trivial kind. Esau came in hungry from hunting:\nfrom dawn to dusk he had been taxing his strength to the utmost, too\neagerly absorbed to notice either his distance from home or his hunger;\nit is only when he begins to return depressed by the ill-luck of the\nday, and with nothing now to stimulate him, that he feels faint; and\nwhen at last he reaches his father's tents, and the savoury smell of\nJacob's lentiles greets him, his ravenous appetite becomes an\nintolerable craving, and he begs Jacob to give him some of his food. Had\nJacob done so with brotherly feeling there would have been nothing to\nrecord. But Jacob had long been watching for an opportunity to win his\nbrother's birthright, and though no one could have supposed that an heir\nto even a little property would sell it in order to get a meal five\nminutes sooner than he could otherwise get it, Jacob had taken his\nbrother's measure to a nicety, and was confident that present appetite\nwould in Esau completely extinguish every other thought.\n\nIt is perhaps worth noticing that the birthright in Ishmael's line, the\nguardianship of the temple at Mecca, passed from one branch of the\nfamily to another in a precisely similar way. We read that when the\nguardianship of the temple and the governorship of the town \"fell into\nthe hands of Abu Gabshan, a weak and silly man, Cosa, one of Mohammed's\nancestors, circumvented him while in a drunken humour, and bought of\nhim the keys of the temple, and with them the presidency of it, for a\nbottle of wine. But Abu Gabshan being gotten out of his drunken fit,\nsufficiently repented of his foolish bargain; from whence grew these\nproverbs among the Arabs: More vexed with late repentance than Abu\nGabshan; and, More silly than Abu Gabshan--which are usually said of\nthose who part with a thing of great moment for a small matter.\"\n\nWhich brother presents the more repulsive spectacle of the two in this\nselling of the birthright it is hard to say. Who does not feel contempt\nfor the great, strong man, declaring he will die if he is required to\nwait five minutes till his own supper is prepared; forgetting, in the\ncraving of his appetite, every consideration of a worthy kind; oblivious\nof everything but his hunger and his food; crying, like a great baby,\nFeed me with that _red_! So it is always with the man who has fallen\nunder the power of sensual appetite. He is always going to die if it is\nnot immediately gratified. He _must_ have his appetite satisfied. No\nconsideration of consequences can be listened to or thought of; the man\nis helpless in the hands of his appetite--it rules and drives him on,\nand he is utterly without self-control; nothing but physical compulsion\ncan restrain him.\n\nBut the treacherous and self-seeking craft of the other brother is as\nrepulsive; the cold-blooded, calculating spirit that can hold every\nappetite in check, that can cleave to one purpose for a life-time, and,\nwithout scruple, take advantage of a twin-brother's weakness. Jacob\nknows his brother thoroughly, and all his knowledge he uses to betray\nhim. He knows he will speedily repent of his bargain, so he makes him\nswear he will abide by it. It is a relentless purpose he carries\nout--he deliberately and unhesitatingly sacrifices his brother to\nhimself.\n\nStill, in two respects, Jacob is the superior man. He can appreciate the\nbirthright in his father's family, and he has constancy. Esau might be a\npleasant companion, far brighter and more vivacious than Jacob on a\nday's hunting; free and open-handed, and not implacable; and yet such\npeople are not satisfactory friends. Often the most attractive people\nhave similar inconstancy; they have a superficial vivacity, and\nbrilliance, and charm, and good-nature, which invite a friendship they\ndo not deserve.\n\nParents frequently make the mistake of Isaac, and think more highly of\nthe gay, sparkling, but shallow child, than of the child who cannot be\nalways smiling, but broods over what he conceives to be his wrongs.\nSulkiness is itself not a pleasing feature in a child's character, but\nit may only be the childish expression of constancy, and of a depth of\ncharacter which is slow to let go any impression made upon it. On the\nother hand, frankness and a quick throwing aside of passion and\nresentment are pleasing features in a child, but often these are only\nthe expressions of a fickle character, rapidly changing from sun to\nshower like an April day, and not to be trusted for retaining affection\nor good impressions any longer than it retains resentment.\n\nBut Esau's despising of his birthright is that which stamps the man and\nmakes him interesting to each generation. No one can read the simple\naccount of his reckless act without feeling how justly we are called\nupon to \"look diligently lest there be among us any profane person as\nEsau, who, for one morsel of meat, sold his birthright.\" Had the\nbirthright been something to eat, Esau would not have sold it. What an\nexhibition of human nature! What an exposure of our childish folly and\nthe infatuation of appetite! For Esau has company in his fall. We are\nall stricken by his shame. We are conscious that if God had made\nprovision for the flesh we should have listened to Him more readily.\n\"But what will this birthright profit us?\" We do not see the good it\ndoes: were it something to keep us from disease, to give us long unsated\ndays of pleasure, to bring us the fruits of labour without the weariness\nof it, to make money for us, where is the man who would not value\nit--where is the man who would lightly give it up? But because it is\nonly the favour of God that is offered, His endless love, His holiness\nmade ours, this we will imperil or resign for every idle desire, for\nevery lust that bids us serve it a little longer. Born the sons of God,\nmade in His image, introduced to a birthright angels might covet, we yet\nprefer to rank with the beasts of the field, and let our souls starve if\nonly our bodies be well tended and cared for.\n\nThere is in Esau's conduct and after-experience so much to stir serious\nthought, that one always feels reluctant to pass from it, and as if much\nmore ought to be made of it. It reflects so many features of our own\nconduct, and so clearly shows us what we are from day to day liable to,\nthat we would wish to take it with us through life as a perpetual\nadmonition. Who does not know of those moments of weakness, when we are\nfagged with work, and with our physical energy our moral tone has become\nrelaxed? Who does not know how, in hours of reaction from keen and\nexciting engagements, sensual appetite asserts itself, and with what\npetulance we inwardly cry, We shall die if we do not get this or that\npaltry gratification? We are, for the most part, inconstant as Esau,\nfull of good resolves to-day, and to-morrow throwing them to the\nwinds--to-day proud of the arduousness of our calling, and girding\nourselves to self-control and self-denial, to-morrow sinking back to\nsoftness and self-indulgence. Not once as Esau, but again and again we\nbarter peace of conscience and fellowship with God and the hope of\nholiness, for what is, in simple fact, no more than a bowl of pottage.\nEven after recognising our weakness and the lowness of our tastes, and\nafter repenting with self-loathing and misery, some slight pleasure is\nenough to upset our steadfast mind, and make us as plastic as clay in\nthe hand of circumstances. It is with positive dismay one considers the\nweakness and blindness of our hours of appetite and passion: how one\ngoes then like an ox to the slaughter, all unconscious of the pitfalls\nthat betray and destroy men, and how at any moment we ourselves may\ntruly sell our birthright.\n\n\n\n\nXXI.\n\n_JACOB'S FRAUD._\n\nGENESIS xxvii.\n\n    \"The counsel of the Lord standeth for ever.\"--PSALM xxxiii. 11.\n\n\nThere are some families whose miserable existence is almost entirely\nmade up of malicious plottings and counter-plottings, little mischievous\ndesigns, and spiteful triumphs of one member or party in the family over\nthe other. It is not pleasant to have the veil withdrawn, and to see\nthat where love and eager self-sacrifice might be expected their places\nare occupied by an eager assertion of rights, and a cold, proud, and\nalways petty and stupid, nursing of some supposed injury. In the story\ntold us so graphically in this page, we see the family whom God has\nblessed sunk to this low level, and betrayed by family jealousies into\nunseemly strife on the most sacred ground. Each member of the family\nplans his own wicked device, and God by the evil of one defeats the evil\nof another, and saves His own purpose to bless the race from being\nfrittered away and lost. And it is told us in order that, amidst all\nthis mess of human craft and selfishness, the righteousness and\nstability of God's word of promise may be more vividly seen. Let us look\nat the sin of each of the parties in order, and the punishment of each.\n\nIn the Epistle to the Hebrews Isaac is commended for his faith in\nblessing his sons. It was commendable in him that, in great bodily\nweakness, he still believed himself to be the guardian of God's\nblessing, and recognised that he had a great inheritance to bequeath to\nhis sons. But, in unaccountable and inconsistent contempt of God's\nexpressed purpose, he proposes to hand over this blessing to Esau. Many\nthings had occurred to fix his attention upon the fact that Esau was not\nto be his heir. Esau had sold his birthright, and had married Hittite\nwomen, and his whole conduct was, no doubt, of a piece with this, and\nshowed that, in his hands, any spiritual inheritance would be both\nunsafe and unappreciated. That Isaac had some notion he was doing wrong\nin giving to Esau what belonged to God, and what God meant to give to\nJacob, is shown from his precipitation in bestowing the blessing. He has\nno feeling that he is authorized by God, and therefore he cannot wait\ncalmly till God should intimate, by unmistakable signs, that he is near\nhis end; but, seized with a panic lest his favourite should somehow be\nleft unblessed, he feels, in his nervous alarm, as if he were at the\npoint of death, and, though destined to live for forty-three years\nlonger, he calls Esau that he may hand over to him his dying testament.\nHow different is the nerve of a man when he knows he is doing God's\nwill, and when he is but fulfilling his own device. For the same reason,\nhe has to stimulate his spirit by artificial means. The prophetic\necstasy is not felt by him; he must be exhilarated by venison and wine,\nthat, strengthened and revived in body, and having his gratitude aroused\nafresh towards Esau, he may bless him with all the greater vigour. The\nfinal stimulus is given when he smells the garments of Esau on Jacob,\nand when that fresh earthy smell which so revives us in spring, as if\nour life were renewed with the year, and which hangs about one who has\nbeen in the open air, entered into Isaac's blood, and lent him fresh\nvigour.\n\nIt is a strange and, in some respects, perplexing spectacle that is here\npresented to us--the organ of the Divine blessing represented by a blind\nold man, laid on a \"couch of skins,\" stimulated by meat and wine, and\ntrying to cheat God by bestowing the family blessing on the son of his\nown choice to the exclusion of the divinely-appointed heir. Out of such\nbeginnings had God to educate a people worthy of Himself, and through\nsuch hazards had He to guide the spiritual blessing He designed to\nconvey to us all.\n\nIsaac laid a net for his own feet. By his unrighteous and timorous haste\nhe secured the defeat of his own long-cherished scheme. It was his\nhasting to bless Esau which drove Rebekah to checkmate him by winning\nthe blessing for her favourite. The shock which Isaac felt when Esau\ncame in and the fraud was discovered is easily understood. The\nmortification of the old man must have been extreme when he found that\nhe had so completely taken himself in. He was reclining in the satisfied\nreflection that for once he had overreached his astute Rebekah and her\nastute son, and in the comfortable feeling that, at last, he had\naccomplished his one remaining desire, when he learns from the exceeding\nbitter cry of Esau that he has himself been duped. It was enough to\nrouse the anger of the mildest and godliest of men, but Isaac does not\nstorm and protest--\"he trembles exceedingly.\" He recognises, by a\nspiritual insight quite unknown to Esau, that this is God's hand, and\ndeliberately confirms, with his eyes open, what he had done in\nblindness: \"I have blessed him: _Yea_, and he shall be blessed.\" Had he\nwished to deny the validity of the blessing, he had ground enough for\ndoing so. He had not really given it: it had been stolen from him. An\nact must be judged by its intention, and he had been far from intending\nto bless Jacob. Was he to consider himself bound by what he had done\nunder a misapprehension? He had given a blessing to one person under the\nimpression that he was a different person; must not the blessing go to\nhim for whom it was designed? But Isaac unhesitatingly yielded.\n\nThis clear recognition of God's hand in the matter, and quick submission\nto Him, reveals a habit of reflection, and a spiritual thoughtfulness,\nwhich are the good qualities in Isaac's otherwise unsatisfactory\ncharacter. Before he finished his answer to Esau, he felt he was a poor\nfeeble creature in the hand of a true and just God, who had used even\nhis infirmity and sin to forward righteous and gracious ends. It was his\nsudden recognition of the frightful way in which he had been tampering\nwith God's will, and of the grace with which God had prevented him from\naccomplishing a wrong destination of the inheritance, that made Isaac\ntremble very exceedingly.\n\nIn this humble acceptance of the disappointment of his life's love and\nhope, Isaac shows us the manner in which we ought to bear the\nconsequences of our wrong-doing. The punishment of our sin often comes\nthrough the persons with whom we have to do, unintentionally on their\npart, and yet we are tempted to hate them because they pain and punish\nus, father, mother, wife, child, or whoever else. Isaac and Esau were\nalike disappointed. Esau only saw the supplanter, and vowed to be\nrevenged. Isaac saw God in the matter, and trembled. So when Shimei\ncursed David, and his loyal retainers would have cut off his head for so\ndoing, David said, \"Let him alone, and let him curse: it may be that the\nLord hath bidden him.\" We can bear the pain inflicted on us by men when\nwe see that they are merely the instruments of a divine chastisement.\nThe persons who thwart us and make our life bitter, the persons who\nstand between us and our dearest hopes, the persons whom we are most\ndisposed to speak angrily and bitterly to, are often thorns planted in\nour path by God to keep us on the right way.\n\nIsaac's sin propagated itself with the rapid multiplication of all sin.\nRebekah overheard what passed between Isaac and Esau, and although she\nmight have been able to wait until by fair means Jacob received the\nblessing, yet when she sees Isaac actually preparing to pass Jacob by\nand bless Esau, her fears are so excited that she cannot any longer\nquietly leave the matter in God's hand, but must lend her own more\nskilful management. It may have crossed her mind that she was justified\nin forwarding what she knew to be God's purpose. She saw no other way of\nsaving God's purpose and Jacob's rights than by her interference. The\nemergency might have unnerved many a woman, but Rebekah is equal to the\noccasion. She makes the threatened exclusion of Jacob the very means for\nat last finally settling the inheritance upon him. She braves the\nindignation of Isaac and the rage of Esau, and fearless herself, and\nconfident of success, she soon quiets the timorous and cautious\nobjections of Jacob. She knows that for straightforward lying and acting\na part she was sure of good support in Jacob. Luther says, \"Had it been\nme, I'd have dropped the dish.\" But Jacob had no such tremors--could\nsubmit his hands and face to the touch of Isaac, and repeat his lie as\noften as needful.\n\nAn old man bedridden like Isaac becomes the subject of a number of\nlittle deceptions which may seem, and which may be, very unimportant in\nthemselves, but which are seen to wear down the reverence due to the\nfather of a family, and which imperceptibly sap the guileless sincerity\nand truthfulness of those who practise them. This overreaching of Isaac\nby dressing Jacob in Esau's clothes, might come in naturally as one of\nthose daily deceptions which Rebekah was accustomed to practise on the\nold man whom she kept quite in her own hand, giving him as much or as\nlittle insight into the doings of the family as seemed advisable to her.\nIt would never occur to her that she was taking God in hand; it would\nseem only as if she were making such use of Isaac's infirmity as she was\nin the daily practice of doing.\n\nBut to account for an act is not to excuse it. Underlying the conduct of\nRebekah and Jacob was the conviction that they would come better speed\nby a little deceit of their own than by suffering God to further them in\nHis own way--that though God would certainly not practise deception\nHimself, He might not object to others doing so--that in this emergency\nholiness was a hampering thing which might just for a little be laid\naside that they might be more holy afterwards--that though no doubt in\nordinary circumstances, and as a normal habit, deceit is not to be\ncommended, yet in cases of difficulty, which call for ready wit, a\nprompt seizure, and delicate handling, men must be allowed to secure\ntheir ends in their own way. Their unbelief thus directly produced\nimmorality--immorality of a very revolting kind, the defrauding of\ntheir relatives, and repulsive also because practised as if on God's\nside, or, as we should now say, \"in the interests of religion.\"\n\nTo this day the method of Rebekah and Jacob is largely adopted by\nreligious persons. It is notorious that persons whose ends are good\nfrequently become thoroughly unscrupulous about the means they use to\naccomplish them. They dare not say in so many words that they may do\nevil that good may come, nor do they think it a tenable position in\nmorals that the end sanctifies the means; and yet their consciousness of\na justifiable and desirable end undoubtedly does blunt their\nsensitiveness regarding the legitimacy of the means they employ. For\nexample, Protestant controversialists, persuaded that vehement\nopposition to Popery is good, and filled with the idea of accomplishing\nits downfall, are often guilty of gross misrepresentation, because they\ndo not sufficiently inform themselves of the actual tenets and practices\nof the Church of Rome. In all controversy, religious and political, it\nis the same. It is always dishonest to circulate reports that you have\nno means of authenticating: yet how freely are such reports circulated\nto blacken the character of an opponent, and to prove his opinions to be\ndangerous. It is always dishonest to condemn opinions we have not\ninquired into, merely because of some fancied consequence which these\nopinions carry in them: yet how freely are opinions condemned by men who\nhave never been at the trouble carefully to inquire into their truth.\nThey do not feel the dishonesty of their position, because they have a\ngeneral consciousness that they are on the side of religion, and of what\nhas generally passed for truth. All keeping back of facts which are\nsupposed to have an unsettling effect is but a repetition of this sin.\nThere is no sin more hateful. Under the appearance of serving God, and\nmaintaining His cause in the world, it insults Him by assuming that if\nthe whole bare, undisguised truth were spoken, His cause would suffer.\n\nThe fate of all such attempts to manage God's matters by keeping things\ndark, and misrepresenting fact, is written for all who care to\nunderstand in the results of this scheme of Rebekah's and Jacob's. They\ngained nothing, and they lost a great deal, by their wicked\ninterference. They gained nothing; for God had promised that the\nbirthright would be Jacob's, and would have given it him in some way\nredounding to his credit and not to his shame. And they lost a great\ndeal. The mother lost her son; Jacob had to flee for his life, and, for\nall we know, Rebekah never saw him more. And Jacob lost all the comforts\nof home, and all those possessions his father had accumulated. He had to\nflee with nothing but his staff, an outcast to begin the world for\nhimself. From this first false step onwards to his death, he was pursued\nby misfortune, until his own verdict on his life was, \"Few and evil have\nbeen the days of the years of my life.\"\n\nThus severely was the sin of Rebekah and Jacob punished. It coloured\ntheir whole after-life with a deep sombre hue. It was marked thus,\nbecause it was a sin by all means to be avoided. It was virtually the\nsin of blaming God for forgetting His promise, or of accusing Him of\nbeing unable to perform it: so that they, Rebekah and Jacob, had,\nforsooth, to take God's work out of His hands, and show Him how it ought\nto be done. The announcement of God's purpose, instead of enabling them\nquietly to wait for a blessing they knew to be certain, became in their\nunrighteous and impatient hearts actually an inducement to sin. Abraham\nwas so bold and confident in his faith, at least latterly, that again\nand again he refused to take as a gift from men, and on the most\nhonourable terms, what God had promised to give him: his grandson is so\nlittle sure of God's truth, that he will rather trust his own falsehood;\nand what he thinks God may forget to give him, he will steal from his\nown father. Some persons have especial need to consider this sin--they\nare tempted to play the part of Providence, to intermeddle where they\nought to refrain. Sometimes just a little thing is needed to make\neverything go to our liking--the keeping back of one small fact, a\nslight variation in the way of stating the matter, is enough--things\nwant just a little push in the right direction; it is wrong but very\nslightly so. And so they are encouraged to close for a moment their eyes\nand put to their hand.\n\nOf all the parties in this transaction none is more to blame than Esau.\nHe shows now how selfish and untruthful the sensual man really is, and\nhow worthless is the generosity which is merely of impulse and not\nbottomed on principle. While he so furiously and bitterly blamed Jacob\nfor supplanting him, it might surely have occurred to him that it was\nreally he who was supplanting Jacob. He had no right, divine or human,\nto the inheritance. God had never said that His possession should go to\nthe oldest, and had in this case said the express opposite. Besides,\ninconstant as Esau was, he could scarcely have forgotten the bargain\nthat so pleased him at the time, and by which he had sold to his younger\nbrother all title to his father's blessings. Jacob was to blame for\nseeking to win his own by craft, but Esau was more to blame for\nendeavouring furtively to recover what he knew to be no longer his. His\nbitter cry was the cry of a disappointed and enraged child, what Hosea\ncalls the \"howl\" of those who seem to seek the Lord, but are really\nmerely crying out, like animals, for corn and wine. Many that care very\nlittle for God's love will seek His favours; and every wicked wretch who\nhas in his prosperity spurned God's offers, will, when he sees how he\nhas cheated himself, turn to God's gifts, though not to God, with a cry.\nEsau would now very gladly have given a mess of pottage for the blessing\nthat secured to its receiver \"the dew of heaven, the fatness of the\nearth, and plenty of corn and wine.\" Like many another sinner, he wanted\nboth to eat his cake and have it. He wanted to spend his youth sowing to\nthe flesh, and have the harvest which those only can have who have sown\nto the spirit. He wished both of two irreconcilable things--both the red\npottage and the birth right. He is a type of those who think very\nlightly of spiritual blessings while their appetites are strong, but\nafterwards bitterly complain that their whole life is filled with the\nresults of sowing to the flesh and not to the spirit.\n\n    \"We barter life for pottage; sell true bliss\n      For wealth or power, for pleasure or renown;\n    Thus, Esau-like, our Father's blessing miss,\n      Then wash with fruitless tears our faded crown.\"\n\nThe words of the New Testament, in which it is said that Esau \"found no\nplace for repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears,\" are\nsometimes misunderstood. They do not mean that he sought what we\nordinarily call repentance, a change of mind about the value of the\nbirthright. He _had_ that; it was this that made him weep. What he\nsought now was some means of undoing what he had done, of cancelling\nthe deed of which he repented. His experience does not tell us that a\nman once sinning as Esau sinned becomes a hardened reprobate whom no\ngood influence can impress or bring to repentance, but it says that the\nsin so committed leaves irreparable consequences--that no man can live a\nyouth of folly and yet find as much in manhood and maturer years as if\nhe had lived a careful and God-fearing youth. Esau had irrecoverably\nlost that which he would now have given all he had to possess; and in\nthis, I suppose, he represents half the men who pass through this world.\nHe warns us that it is very possible, by careless yielding to appetite\nand passing whim, to entangle ourselves irrecoverably for this life, if\nnot to weaken and maim ourselves for eternity. At the time, your act may\nseem a very small and secular one, a mere bargain in the ordinary\ncourse, a little transaction such as one would enter into carelessly\nafter the day's work is over, in the quiet of a summer evening or in the\nmidst of the family circle; or it may seem so necessary that you never\nthink of its moral qualities, as little as you question whether you are\njustified in breathing; but you are warned that if there be in that act\na crushing out of spiritual hopes to make way for the free enjoyment of\nthe pleasures of sense--if there be a deliberate preference of the good\nthings of this life to the love of God--if, knowingly, you make light of\nspiritual blessings, and count them unreal when weighed against obvious\nworldly advantages--then the consequences of that act will in this life\nbring to you great discomfort and uneasiness, great loss and vexation,\nan agony of remorse, and a life-long repentance. You are warned of this,\nand most touchingly, by the moving entreaties, the bitter cries and\ntears of Esau.\n\nBut even when our life is spoiled irreparably, a hope remains for our\ncharacter and ourselves--not certainly if our misfortunes embitter us,\nnot if resentment is the chief result of our suffering; but if, subduing\nresentment, and taking blame to ourselves instead of trying to fix it on\nothers, we take revenge upon the real source of our undoing, and\nextirpate from our own character the root of bitterness. Painful and\ndifficult is such schooling. It calls for simplicity, and humility, and\ntruthfulness--qualities not of frequent occurrence. It calls for abiding\npatience; for he who begins thus to sow to the spirit late in life, must\nbe content with inward fruits, with peace of conscience, increase of\nrighteousness and humility, and must learn to live without much of what\nall men naturally desire.\n\nWhile each member of Isaac's family has thus his own plan, and is\nstriving to fulfil his private intention, the result is, that God's\npurpose is fulfilled. In the human agency, such faith in God as existed\nwas overlaid with misunderstanding and distrust of God. But\nnotwithstanding the petty and mean devices, the short-sighted slyness,\nthe blundering unbelief, the profane worldliness of the human parties in\nthe transaction, the truth and mercy of God still find a way for\nthemselves. Were matters left in our hands, we should make shipwreck\neven of the salvation with which we are provided. We carry into our\ndealings with it the same selfishness, and inconstancy, and worldliness\nwhich made it necessary: and had not God patience to bear with, as well\nas mercy to invite us; had He not wisdom to govern us in the use of His\ngrace, as well as wisdom to contrive its first bestowal, we should\nperish with the water of life at our lips.\n\n\n\n\nXXII.\n\n_JACOB'S FLIGHT AND DREAM._\n\nGENESIS xxvii. 41-xxviii.\n\n    \"So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before Thee.\n    Nevertheless I am continually with Thee.\"--PSALM lxxiii. 22.\n\n\nIt is so commonly observed as to be scarcely worth again remarking, that\npersons who employ a great deal of craft in the management of their\naffairs are invariably entrapped in their own net. Life is so\ncomplicated, and every matter of conduct has so many issues, that no\nhuman brain can possibly foresee every contingency. Rebekah was a clever\nwoman, and quite competent to outwit men like Isaac and Esau, but she\nhad in her scheming neglected to take account of Laban, a man true\nbrother to herself in cunning. She had calculated on Esau's resentment,\nand knew it would last only a few days, and this brief period she was\nprepared to utilize by sending Jacob out of Esau's reach to her own kith\nand kin, from among whom he might get a suitable wife. But she did not\nreckon on Laban's making her son serve fourteen years for his wife, nor\nupon Jacob's falling so deeply in love with Rachel as to make him\napparently forget his mother.\n\nIn the first part of her scheme she feels herself at home. She is a\nwoman who knows exactly how much of her mind to disclose, so as\neffectually to lead her husband to adopt her view and plan. She did not\nbluntly advise Isaac to send Jacob to Padan-aram, but she sowed in his\napprehensive mind fears which she knew would make him send Jacob there;\nshe suggested the possibility of Jacob's taking a wife of the daughters\nof Heth. She felt sure that _Isaac_ did not need to be told where to\nsend his son to find a suitable wife. So Isaac called Jacob, and said,\nGo to Padan-aram, to the house of thy mother's father, and take thee a\nwife thence. And he gave him the family blessing--God Almighty give thee\nthe blessing of Abraham, to thee, and to thy seed with thee--so\nconstituting him his heir, the representative of Abraham.\n\nThe effect this had on Esau is very noticeable. He sees, as the\nnarrative tells us, a great many things, and his dull mind tries to make\nsome meaning out of all that is passing before him. The historian seems\nintentionally to satirise Esau's attempt at reasoning, and the foolish\nsimplicity of the device he fell upon. He had an idea that Jacob's\nobedience in going to seek a wife of another stock than he had connected\nhimself with would be pleasing to his parents; and perhaps he had an\nidea that it would be possible to steal a march upon Jacob in his\nabsence, and by a more speedily effected obedience to his parents'\ndesire, win their preference, and perhaps move Isaac to alter his will\nand reverse the blessing. Though living in the chosen family, he seems\nto have had not the slightest idea that there was any higher will than\nhis father's being fulfilled in their doings. He does not yet see why he\nhimself should not be as blessed as Jacob; he cannot grasp at all the\ndistinction that grace makes; cannot take in the idea that God has\nchosen a people to Himself, and that no natural advantage or force or\nendowment can set a man among that people, but only God's choice.\nAccordingly, he does not see any difference between Ishmael's family and\nthe chosen family; they are both sprung from Abraham, both are naturally\nthe same, and the fact that God expressly gave His inheritance past\nIshmael is nothing to Esau--an act of _God_ has no meaning to him. He\nmerely sees that he has not pleased his parents as well as he might by\nhis marriage, and his easy and yielding disposition prompts him to\nremedy this.\n\nThis is a fine specimen of the hazy views men have of what will bring\nthem to a level with God's chosen. Through their crass insensibility to\nthe high righteousness of God, there still does penetrate a perception\nthat if they are to please Him there are certain means to be used for\ndoing so. There are, they see, certain occupations and ways pursued by\nChristians, and if by themselves adopting these they can please God,\nthey are quite willing to humour Him in this. Like Esau, they do not see\ntheir way to drop their old connections, but if by making some little\nadditions to their habits, or forming some new connection, they can\nquiet this controversy that has somehow grown up between God and His\nchildren,--though, so far as they see, it is a very unmeaning\ncontroversy,--they will very gladly enter into any little arrangement\nfor the purpose. We will not, of course, divorce the world, will not\ndismiss from our homes and hearts what God hates and means to destroy,\nwill not accept God's will as our sole and absolute law, but we will so\nfar meet God's wishes as to add to what we have adopted something that\nis almost as good as what God enjoins: we will make any little\nalterations which will not quite upset our present ways. Much commoner\nthan hypocrisy is this dim-sighted, blundering stupidity of the really\nprofane worldly man, who thinks he can take rank with men whose natures\nGod has changed, by the mere imitation of some of their ways; who\nthinks, that as he cannot without great labour, and without too\nseriously endangering his hold on the world, do precisely what God\nrequires, God may be expected to be satisfied with a something like it.\nAre we not aware of endeavouring at times to cloak a sin with some easy\nvirtue, to adopt some new and apparently good habit, instead of\ndestroying the sin we know God hates; or to offer to God, and palm upon\nour own conscience, a mere imitation of what God is pleased with? Do you\nattend Church, do you come and decorously submit to a service? That is\nnot at all what God enjoins, though it is like it. What He means is,\nthat you worship Him, which is a quite different employment. Do you\nrender to God some outward respect, have you adopted some habits in\ndeference to Him, do you even attempt some private devotion and\ndiscipline of the spirit? Still what He requires is something that goes\nmuch deeper than all that; namely, that you love Him. To conform to one\nor two habits of godly people is not what is required of us; but to be\nat heart godly.\n\nAs Jacob journeyed northwards, he came, on the second or third evening\nof his flight, to the hills of Bethel. As the sun was sinking he found\nhimself toiling up the rough path which Abraham may have described to\nhim as looking like a great staircase of rock and crag reaching from\nearth to sky. Slabs of rock, piled one upon another, form the whole\nhill-side, and to Jacob's eye, accustomed to the rolling pastures of\nBeersheba, they would appear almost like a structure built for\nsuperhuman uses, well founded in the valley below, and intended to\nreach to unknown heights. Overtaken by darkness on this rugged path, he\nreadily finds as soft a bed and as good shelter as his shepherd-habits\nrequire, and with his head on a stone and a corner of his dress thrown\nover his face to preserve him from the moon, he is soon fast asleep. But\nin his dreams the massive staircase is still before his eyes, and it is\nno longer himself that is toiling up it as it leads to an unexplored\nhill-top above him, but the angels of God are ascending and descending\nupon it, and at its top is Jehovah Himself.\n\nThus simply does God meet the thoughts of Jacob, and lead him to the\nencouragement he needed. What was probably Jacob's state of mind when he\nlay down on that hill-side? In the first place, and as he would have\nsaid to any man he chanced to meet, he wondered what he would see when\nhe got to the top of this hill; and still more, as he may have said to\nRebekah, he wondered what reception he would meet with from Laban, and\nwhether he would ever again see his father's tents. This vision shows\nhim that his path leads to God, that it is He who occupies the future;\nand, in his dream, a voice comes to him: \"I am with thee, and will keep\nthee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into\nthis land.\" He had, no doubt, wondered much whether the blessing of his\nfather was, after all, so valuable a possession, whether it might not\nhave been wiser to take a share with Esau than to be driven out homeless\nthus. God has never spoken to him; he has heard his father speak of\nassurances coming to him from God, but as for him, through all the long\nyears of his life he has never heard what he could speak of as a voice\nof God. But this night these doubts were silenced--there came to his\nsoul an assurance that never departed from it. He could have affirmed\nhe heard God saying to him: \"I am the Lord God of thy father Abraham,\nand the God of Isaac: the land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give\nit.\" And lastly, all these thoughts probably centred in one deep\nfeeling, that he was an outcast, a fugitive from justice. He was glad he\nwas in so solitary a place, he was glad he was so far from Esau and from\nevery human eye; and yet--what desolation of spirit accompanied this\nfeeling: there was no one he could bid good-night to, no one he could\nspend the evening hour with in quiet talk; he was a banished man,\nwhatever fine gloss Rebekah might put upon it, and deep down in his\nconscience there was that which told him he was not banished without\ncause. Might not God also forsake him--might not God banish him, and\nmight he not find a curse pursuing him, preventing man or woman from\never again looking in his face with pleasure? Such fears are met by the\nvision. This desolate spot, unvisited by sheep or bird, has become busy\nwith life, angels thronging the ample staircase. Here, where he thought\nhimself lonely and outcast, he finds he has come to the very gate of\nheaven. His fond mother might, at that hour, have been visiting his\nsilent tent and shedding ineffectual tears on his abandoned bed, but he\nfinds himself in the very house of God, cared for by angels. As the\ndarkness had revealed to him the stars shining overhead, so when the\ndeceptive glare of waking life was dulled by sleep, he saw the actual\nrealities which before were hidden.\n\nNo wonder that a vision which so graphically showed the open\ncommunication between earth and heaven should have deeply impressed\nitself on Jacob's descendants. What more effectual consolation could any\npoor outcast, who felt he had spoiled his life, require than the memory\nof this staircase reaching from the pillow of the lonely fugitive from\njustice up into the very heart of heaven? How could any most desolate\nsoul feel quite abandoned so long as the memory retained the vision of\nthe angels thronging up and down with swift service to the needy? How\ncould it be even in the darkest hour believed that all hope was gone,\nand that men might but curse God and die, when the mind turned to this\nbridging of the interval between earth and heaven?\n\nIn the New Testament we meet with an instance of the familiarity with\nthis vision which true Israelites enjoyed. Our Lord, in addressing\nNathanael, makes use of it in a way that proves this familiarity. Under\nhis fig-tree, whose broad leaves were used in every Jewish garden as a\nscreen from observation, and whose branches were trained down so as to\nform an open-air oratory, where secret prayer might be indulged in\nundisturbed, Nathanael had been declaring to the Father his ways, his\nweaknesses, his hopes. And scarcely more astonished was Jacob when he\nfound himself the object of this angelic ministry on the lonely\nhill-side, than was Nathanael when he found how one eye penetrated the\nleafy screen, and had read his thoughts and wishes. Apparently he had\nbeen encouraging himself with this vision, for our Lord, reading his\nthoughts, says: \"Because I said unto thee, When thou wast under the\nfig-tree I saw thee, believest thou? Thou shalt see greater things than\nthese--thou shalt see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and\ndescending upon the Son of man.\"\n\nThis, then, is a vision for us even more than for Jacob. It has its\nfulfilment in the times after the Incarnation more manifestly than in\nprevious times. The true staircase by which heavenly messengers ascend\nand descend is the Son of man. It is He who really bridges the interval\nbetween heaven and earth, God and man. In His person these two are\nunited. You cannot tell whether Christ is more Divine or human, more God\nor man--solidly based on earth, as this massive staircase, by His real\nhumanity, by His thirty-three years' engagement in all human functions\nand all experiences of this life, He is yet familiar with eternity, His\nname is \"He that came down from heaven,\" and if your eye follows step by\nstep to the heights of His person, it rests at last on what you\nrecognise as Divine. His love it is that is wide enough to embrace God\non the one hand, and the lowest sinner on the other. Truly He is the\nway, the stair, leading from the lowest depth of earth to the highest\nheight of heaven. In Him you find a love that embraces you as you are,\nin whatever condition, however cast down and defeated, however\nembittered and polluted--a love that stoops tenderly to you and\nhopefully, and gives you once more a hold upon holiness and life, and in\nthat very love unfolds to you the highest glory of heaven and of God.\n\nWhen this comes home to a man in the hour of his need, it becomes the\nmost arousing revelation. He springs from the troubled slumber we call\nlife, and all earth wears a new glory and awe to him. He exclaims with\nJacob, \"How dreadful is this place. Surely the Lord is in this place,\nand I knew it not.\" The world that had been so bleak and empty to him,\nis filled with a majestic vital presence. Jacob is no longer a mere\nfugitive from the results of his own sin, a shepherd in search of\nemployment, a man setting out in the world to try his fortune; he is the\npartner with God in the fulfilment of a Divine purpose. And such is the\nchange that passes on every man who believes in the Incarnation, who\nfeels himself to be connected with God by Jesus Christ; he recognises\nthe Divine intention to uplift his life, and to fill it with new hopes\nand purposes. He feels that humanity is consecrated by the entrance of\nthe Son of God into it: he feels that all human life is holy ground\nsince the Lord Himself has passed through it. Having once had this\nvision of God and man united in Christ, life cannot any more be to him\nthe poor, dreary, commonplace, wretched round of secular duties and\nshort-lived joys and terribly punished sins it was before: but it truly\nbecomes the very gate of heaven; from each part of it he knows there is\na staircase rising to the presence of God, and that out of the region of\npure holiness and justice there flow to him heavenly aids, tender\nguidance, and encouragement.\n\nDo you think the idea of the Incarnation too aerial and speculative to\ncarry with you for help in rough, practical matters? The Incarnation is\nnot a mere idea, but a fact as substantial and solidly rooted in life as\nanything you have to do with. Even the shadow of it Jacob saw carried in\nit so much of what was real that when he was broad awake he trusted it\nand acted on it. It was not scattered by the chill of the morning air,\nnor by that fixed staring reality which external nature assumes in the\ngray dawn as one object after another shows itself in the same spot and\nform in which night had fallen upon it. There were no angels visible\nwhen he opened his eyes; the staircase was there, but it was of no\nheavenly substance, and if it had any secret to tell, it coldly and\ndarkly kept it. There was no retreat for the runaway from the poor\ncommon facts of yesterday. The sky seemed as far from earth as it did\nyesterday, his track over the hill as lonely, his brother's wrath as\nreal;--but other things also had become real; and as he looked back from\nthe top of the hill on the stone he had set up, he felt the words, \"I am\nwith thee in all places whither thou goest,\" graven on his heart, and\ngiving him new courage; and he knew that every footfall of his was\nmaking a Bethel, and that as he went he was carrying God through the\nworld. The bleakest rains that swept across the hills of Bethel could\nnever wash out of his mind the vision of bright-winged angels, as little\nas they could wash off the oil or wear down the stone he had set up. The\nbrightest glare of this world's heyday of real life could not outshine\nand cause them to disappear; and the vision on which we hope is not one\nthat vanishes at cock-crow, nor is He who connects us with God shy of\nhuman handling, but substantial as ourselves. He offered Himself to\nevery kind of test, so that those who knew Him for years could say, with\nthe most absolute confidence, \"That which we have heard, which we have\nseen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have\nhandled of the Word of Life ... declare we unto you, that ye also may\nhave fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father,\nand with His Son Jesus Christ.\"\n\nJacob obeyed a good instinct when he set up as a monumental stone that\nwhich had served as his pillow while he dreamt and saw this inspiring\nvision. He felt that, vivid as the impression on his mind then was, it\nwould tend to fade, and he erected this stone that in after days he\nmight have a witness that would testify to his present assurance. One\ngreat secret in the growth of character is the art of prolonging the\nquickening power of right ideas, of perpetuating just and inspiring\nimpressions. And he who despises the aid of all external helps for the\naccomplishment of this object is not likely to succeed. Religion, some\nmen say, is an inward thing: it does not consist of public worship,\nordinances, and so forth, but it is a state of spirit. Very true; but he\nknows little of human nature who fancies a state of spirit can be\nmaintained without the aid of external reminders, presentations to eye\nand ear of central religious truths and facts. We have all of us had\nsuch views of truth, and such corresponding desires and purposes, as\nwould transform us were they only permanent. But what a night has\nsettled on our past, how little have we found skill to prolong the\nbenefit arising from particular events or occasions. Some parts of our\nlife, indeed, require no monument, there is nothing _there_ we would\never again think of, if possible; but, alas! these, for the most part,\nhave erected monuments of their own, to which, as with a sad\nfascination, our eyes are ever turning--persons we have injured, or who,\nsomehow, so remind us of sin, that we shrink from meeting them--places\nto which sins of ours have attached a reproachful meaning. And these\nnatural monuments must be imitated in the life of grace. By fixed hours\nof worship, by rules and habits of devotion, by public worship, and\nespecially by the monumental ordinance of the Lord's Supper, must we\ncherish the memory of known truth, and deepen former impressions.\n\nTo the monument Jacob attached a vow, so that when he returned to that\nspot the stone might remind him of the dependence on God he now felt, of\nthe precarious situation he was in when this vision appeared, and of all\nthe help God had afterwards given him. He seems to have taken up the\nmeaning of that endless chain of angels ceaselessly coming down full of\nblessing, and going up empty of all but desires, requests, aspirations.\nAnd if we are to live with clean conscience and with heart open to God,\nwe must so live that the messengers who bring God's blessings to us\nshall not have an evil report to take back of the manner in which we\nhave received and spent His bounty.\n\nThis whole incident makes a special appeal to those who are starting in\nlife. Jacob was no longer a young man, but he was unmarried, and he was\ngoing to seek employment with nothing to begin the world with but his\nshepherd's staff, the symbol of his knowledge of a profession. Many must\nsee in him a very exact reproduction of their own position. They have\nleft home, and it may be they have left it not altogether with pleasant\nmemories, and they are now launched on the world for themselves, with\nnothing but their staff, their knowledge of some business. The spot they\nhave reached may seem as desolate as the rock where Jacob lay, their\nprospects as doubtful as his. For such an one there is absolutely no\nsecurity but that which is given in the vision of Jacob--in the belief\nthat God will be with you in all places, and that even now on that life\nwhich you are perhaps already wishing to seclude from all holy\ninfluences, the angels of God are descending to bless and restrain you\nfrom sin. Happy the man who, at the outset, can heartily welcome such a\nconnection of his life with God: unhappy he who welcomes whatever blots\nout the thought of heaven, and who separates himself from all that\nreminds him of the good influences that throng his path. The desire of\nthe young heart to see life and know the world is natural and innocent,\nbut how many fancy that in seeing the lowest and poorest perversions of\nlife they see life--how many forget that unless they keep their hearts\npure they can never enter into the best and richest and most enduring of\nthe uses and joys of human life. Even from a selfish motive and the mere\ndesire to succeed in the world, every one starting in life would do well\nto consider whether he really has Jacob's blessing and is making his\nvow. And certainly every one who has any honour, who is governed by any\nof those sentiments that lead men to noble and worthy actions, will\nfrankly meet God's offers and joyfully accept a heavenly guidance and a\npermanent connection with God.\n\nBefore we dismiss this vision, it may be well to look at one instance of\nits fulfilment, that we may understand the manner in which God fulfils\nHis promises. Jacob's experience in Haran was not so brilliant and\nunexceptionable as he might perhaps expect. He did, indeed, at once find\na woman he could love, but he had to purchase her with seven years'\ntoil, which ultimately became fourteen years. He did not grudge this;\nbecause it was customary, because his affections were strong, and\nbecause he was too independent to send to his father for money to buy a\nwife. But the bitterest disappointment awaited him. With the burning\nhumiliation of one who has been cheated in so cruel a way, he finds\nhimself married to Leah. He protests, but he cannot insist on his\nprotest, nor divorce Leah; for, in point of fact, he is conscious that\nhe is only being paid in his own coin, foiled with his own weapons. In\nthis veiled bride brought in to him on false pretences, he sees the just\nretribution of his own disguise when with the hands of Esau he went in\nand received his father's blessing. His mouth is shut by the remembrance\nof his own past. But submitting to this chastisement, and recognising\nin it not only the craft of his uncle, but the stroke of God, that which\nhe at first thought of as a cruel curse became a blessing. It was Leah\nmuch more than Rachel that built up the house of Israel. To this\ndespised wife six of the tribes traced their origin, and among these was\nthe tribe of Judah. Thus he learned the fruitfulness of God's\nretribution--that to be humbled by God is really to be built up, and to\nbe punished by Him the richest blessing. Through such an experience are\nmany persons led: when we would embrace the fruit of years of toil God\nthrusts into our arms something quite different from our\nexpectation--something that not only disappoints, but that at first\nrepels us, reminding us of acts of our own we had striven to forget. Is\nit with resentment you still look back on some such experience, when the\nreward of years of toil evaded your grasp, and you found yourself bound\nto what you would not have worked a day to obtain?--do you find yourself\ndisheartened and discouraged by the way in which you seem regularly to\nmiss the fruit of your labour? If so, no doubt it were useless to assure\nyou that the disappointment may be more fruitful than the hope\nfulfilled, but it can scarcely be useless to ask you to consider whether\nit is not the fact that in Jacob's case what was thrust upon him _was_\nmore fruitful than what he strove to win.\n\n\n\n\nXXIII.\n\n_JACOB AT PENIEL._\n\nGENESIS xxxii.\n\n    \"Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you\n    up.\"--JAMES iv. 10.\n\n\nJacob had a double reason for wishing to leave Padan-aram. He believed\nin the promise of God to give him Canaan; and he saw that Laban was a\nman with whom he could never be on a thoroughly good understanding. He\nsaw plainly that Laban was resolved to make what he could out of his\nskill at as cheap a rate as possible--the characteristic of a selfish,\ngreedy, ungrateful, and therefore, in the end, ill-served master. Laban\nand Esau were the two men who had hitherto chiefly influenced Jacob's\nlife. But they were very different in character. Esau could never see\nthat there was any important difference between himself and\nJacob--except that his brother was trickier. Esau was the type of those\nwho honestly think that there is not much in religion, and that saints\nare but white-washed sinners. Laban, on the contrary, is almost\nsuperstitiously impressed by the distinction between God's people and\nothers. But the chief practical issue of this impression is, not that he\nseeks God's friendship for himself, but that he tries to make a\nprofitable use of God's friends. He seeks to get God's blessing, as it\nwere, at second-hand. If men could be related to God indirectly, as if\nin law and not by blood, that would suit Laban. If God would admit men\nto his inheritance on any other terms than being sons in the direct\nline, if there were some relationship once removed, a kind of\nsons-in-law, so that mere connection with the godly, though not with\nGod, would win His blessing, this would suit Laban.\n\nLaban is the man who appreciates the social value of virtue,\ntruthfulness, fidelity, temperance, godliness, but wishes to enjoy their\nfruits without the pain of cultivating the qualities themselves. He is\nscrupulous as to the character of those he takes into his employment,\nand seeks to connect himself in business with good men. In his domestic\nlife, he acts on the idea which his experience has suggested to him,\nthat persons really godly will make his home more peaceful, better\nregulated, safer than otherwise it might be. If he holds a position of\nauthority, he knows how to make use, for the preservation of order and\nfor the promotion of his own ends, of the voluntary efforts of Christian\nsocieties, of the trustworthiness of Christian officials, and of the\nsupport of the Christian community. But with all this recognition of the\nreality and influence of godliness, he never for one moment entertains\nthe idea of himself becoming a godly man. In all ages there are Labans,\nwho clearly recognise the utility and worth of a connection with God,\nwho have been much mixed up with persons in whom that worth was very\nconspicuous, and who yet, at the last, \"depart and return unto their\nplace,\" like Jacob's father-in-law, without having themselves entered\ninto any affectionate relations with God.\n\nFrom Laban, then, Jacob was resolved to escape. And though to escape\nwith large droves of slow-moving sheep and cattle, as well as with many\nwomen and children, seemed hopeless, the cleverness of Jacob did not\nfail him here. He did not get beyond reach of pursuit; he could never\nhave expected to do so. But he stole away to such a distance from Haran\nas made it much easier for him to come to terms with Laban, and much\nmore difficult for Laban to try any further device for detaining him.\n\nBut, delivered as he was from Laban, he had an even more formidable\nperson to deal with. As soon as Laban's company disappear on the\nnorthern horizon, Jacob sends messengers south to sound Esau. His\nmessage is so contrived as to beget the idea in Esau's mind that his\nyounger brother is a person of some importance, and yet is prepared to\nshow greater deference to himself than formerly. But the answer brought\nback by the messengers is the curt and haughty despatch of the man of\nwar to the man of peace. No notice is taken of Jacob's vaunted wealth.\nNo proposal of terms as if Esau had an equal to deal with, is carried\nback. There is only the startling announcement: \"Esau cometh to meet\nthee, and four hundred men with him.\" Jacob at once recognises the\nsignificance of this armed advance on Esau's part. Esau has not\nforgotten the wrong he suffered at Jacob's hands, and he means to show\nhim that he is entirely in his power.\n\nTherefore was Jacob \"greatly afraid and distressed.\" The joy with which,\na few days ago, he had greeted the host of God, was quite overcast by\nthe tidings brought him regarding the host of Esau. Things heavenly do\nalways look so like a mere show; visits of angels seem so delusive and\nfleeting; the exhibition of the powers of heaven seems so often but as a\ntournament painted on the sky, and so unavailable for the stern\nencounters that await us on earth, that one seems, even after the most\nimpressive of such displays, to be left to fight on alone. No wonder\nJacob is disturbed. His wives and dependants gather round him in dismay;\nthe children, catching the infectious panic, cower with cries and\nweeping about their mothers; the whole camp is rudely shaken out of its\nbrief truce by the news of this rough Esau, whose impetuosity and\nwarlike ways they had all heard of and were now to experience. The\naccounts of the messengers would no doubt grow in alarming descriptive\ndetail as they saw how much importance was attached to their words.\nTheir accounts would also be exaggerated by their own unwarlike nature,\nand by the indistinctness with which they had made out the temper of\nEsau's followers, and the novelty of the equipments of war they had seen\nin his camp. Could we have been surprised had Jacob turned and fled when\nthus he was made to picture the troops of Esau sweeping from his grasp\nall he had so laboriously earned, and snatching the promised inheritance\nfrom him when in the very act of entering on possession? But though in\nfancy he already hears their rude shouts of triumph as they fall upon\nhis defenceless band, and already sees the merciless horde dividing the\nspoil with shouts of derision and coarse triumph, and though all around\nhim are clamouring to be led into a safe retreat, Jacob sees stretched\nbefore him the land that is his, and resolves that, by God's help, he\nshall win it. What he does is not the act of a man rendered incompetent\nthrough fear, but of one who has recovered from the first shock of alarm\nand has all his wits about him. He disposes his household and followers\nin two companies, so that each might advance with the hope that it might\nbe the one which should not meet Esau; and having done all that his\ncircumstances permit, he commends himself to God in prayer.\n\nAfter Jacob had prayed to God, a happy thought strikes him, which he at\nonce puts in execution. Anticipating the experience of Solomon, that \"a\nbrother offended is harder to be won than a strong city,\" he, in the\nstyle of a skilled tactician, lays siege to Esau's wrath, and directs\nagainst it train after train of gifts, which, like successive battalions\npouring into a breach, might at length quite win his brother. This\ndisposition of his peaceful battering trains having occupied him till\nsunset, he retires to the short rest of a general on the eve of battle.\nAs soon as he judges that the weaker members of the camp are refreshed\nenough to begin their eventful march, he rises and goes from tent to\ntent awaking the sleepers, and quickly forming them into their usual\nline of march, sends them over the brook in the darkness, and himself is\nleft alone, not with the depression of a man who waits for the\ninevitable, but with the high spirits of intense activity, and with the\nreturn of the old complacent confidence of his own superiority to his\npowerful but sluggish-minded brother--a confidence regained now by the\ncertainty he felt, at least for the time, that Esau's rage could not\nblaze through all the relays of gifts he had sent forward. Having in\nthis spirit seen all his camp across the brook, he himself pauses for a\nmoment, and looks with interest at the stream before him, and at the\npromised land on its southern bank. This stream, too, has an interest\nfor him as bearing a name like his own--a name that signifies the\n\"struggler,\" and was given to the mountain torrent from the pain and\ndifficulty with which it seemed to find its way through the hills.\nSitting on the bank of the stream, he sees gleaming through the darkness\nthe foam that it churned as it writhed through the obstructing rocks, or\nheard through the night the roar of its torrent as it leapt downwards,\ntortuously finding its way towards Jordan; and Jacob says, So will I,\nopposed though I be, win my way, by the circuitous routes of craft or by\nthe impetuous rush of courage, into the land whither that stream is\ngoing. With compressed lips, and step as firm as when, twenty years\nbefore, he left the land, he rises to cross the brook and enter the\nland--he rises, and is seized in a grasp that he at once owns as\nformidable. But surely this silent close, as of two combatants who at\nonce recognise one another's strength, this protracted strife, does not\nlook like the act of a depressed man, but of one whose energies have\nbeen strung to the highest pitch, and who would have borne down the\nchampion of Esau's host had he at that hour opposed his entrance into\nthe land which Jacob claimed as his own, and into which, as his glove,\npledging himself to follow, he had thrown all that was dear to him in\nthe world. It was no common wrestler that would have been safe to meet\nhim in that mood.\n\nWhy, then, was Jacob thus mysteriously held back while his household\nwere quietly moving forward in the darkness? What is the meaning,\npurpose, and use of this opposition to his entrance? These are obvious\nfrom the state of mind Jacob was in. He was going forward to meet Esau\nunder the impression that there was no other reason why he should not\ninherit the land but only his wrath, and pretty confident that by his\nsuperior talent, his mother-wit, he could make a tool of this stupid,\ngenerous brother of his. And the danger was, that if Jacob's device had\nsucceeded, he would have been confirmed in these impressions, and have\nbelieved that he had won the land from Esau, with God's help certainly,\nbut still by his own indomitable pertinacity of purpose and skill in\ndealing with men. Now, this was not the state of the case at all. Jacob\nhad, by his own deceit, become an exile from the land, had been, in\nfact, banished for fraud; and though God had confirmed to him the\ncovenant, and promised to him the land, yet Jacob had apparently never\ncome to any such thorough sense of his sin and entire incompetency to\nwin the birthright for himself, as would have made it _possible_ for him\nto receive simply as God's gift this land which as God's gift was alone\nvaluable. Jacob does not yet seem to have taken up the difference\nbetween inheriting a thing as God's gift, and inheriting it as the meed\nof his own prowess. To such a man God cannot _give_ the land; Jacob\ncannot receive it. He is thinking only of winning it, which is not at\nall what God means, and which would, in fact, have annulled all the\ncovenant, and lowered Jacob and his people to the level simply of other\nnations who had to win and keep their territories at their risk, and not\nas the blessed of God. If Jacob then is to get the land, he must take it\nas a gift, which he is not prepared to do. During the last twenty years\nhe has got many a lesson which might have taught him to distrust his own\nmanagement, and he had, to a certain extent, acknowledged God; but his\nJacob-nature, his subtle, scheming nature, was not so easily made to\nstand erect, and still he is for wriggling himself into the promised\nland. He is coming back to the land under the impression that God needs\nto be managed, that even though we have His promises it requires\ndexterity to get them fulfilled, that a man will get into the\ninheritance all the readier for knowing what to veil from God and what\nto exhibit, when to cleave to His word with great profession of most\nhumble and absolute reliance on Him, and when to take matters into one's\nown hand. Jacob, in short, was about to enter the land as Jacob, the\nsupplanter, and that would never do; he was going to win the land from\nEsau by guile, or as he might; and not to receive it from God. And,\ntherefore, just as he is going to step into it, there lays hold of him,\nnot an armed emissary of his brother, but a far more formidable\nantagonist--if Jacob will win the land, if it is to be a mere trial of\nskill, a wrestling match, it must at least be with the right person.\nJacob is met with his own weapons. He has not chosen war, so no armed\nopposition is made; but with the naked force of his own nature, he is\nprepared for any man who will hold the land against him; with such\ntenacity, toughness, quick presence of mind, elasticity, as nature has\ngiven him, he is confident he can win and hold his own. So the real\nproprietor of the land strips himself for the contest, and lets him\nfeel, by the first hold he takes of him, that if the question be one of\nmere strength he shall never enter the land.\n\nThis wrestling therefore was by no means actually or symbolically\nprayer. Jacob was not aggressive, nor did he stay behind his company to\nspend the night in praying for them. It was God who came and laid hold\non Jacob to prevent him from entering the land in the temper he was in,\nand as Jacob. He was to be taught that it was not only Esau's appeased\nwrath, or his own skilful smoothing down of his brother's ruffled\ntemper, that gave him entrance; but that a nameless Being, Who came out\nupon him from the darkness, guarded the land, and that by His passport\nonly could he find entrance. And henceforth, as to every reader of this\nhistory so much more to Jacob's self, the meeting with Esau and the\novercoming of his opposition were quite secondary to and eclipsed by his\nmeeting and prevailing with this unknown combatant.\n\nThis struggle had, therefore, immense significance for the history of\nJacob. It is, in fact, a concrete representation of the attitude he had\nmaintained towards God throughout his previous history; and it\nconstitutes the turning point at which he assumes a new and satisfactory\nattitude. Year after year Jacob had still retained confidence in\nhimself; he had never been thoroughly humbled, but had always felt\nhimself able to regain the land he had lost by his sin. And in this\nstruggle he shows this same determination and self-confidence. He\nwrestles on indomitably. As Kurtz, whom I follow in his interpretation\nof this incident, says, \"All along Jacob's life had been the struggle of\na clever and strong, a pertinacious and enduring, a self-confident and\nself-sufficient person, who was sure of the result only when he helped\nhimself--a contest with God, who wished to break his strength and\nwisdom, in order to bestow upon him real strength in divine weakness,\nand real wisdom in divine folly.\" All this self-confidence culminates\nnow, and in one final and sensible struggle, his Jacob-nature, his\nnatural propensity to wrest what he desires and win what he aims at,\nfrom the most unwilling opponent, does its very utmost and does it in\nvain. His steady straining, his dexterous feints, his quick gusts of\nvehement assault, make no impression on this combatant and move him not\none foot off his ground. Time after time his crafty nature puts out all\nits various resources, now letting his grasp relax and feigning defeat,\nand then with gathered strength hurling himself on the stranger, but all\nin vain. What Jacob had often surmised during the last twenty years,\nwhat had flashed through him like a sudden gleam of light when he found\nhimself married to Leah, that he was in the hands of one against whom it\nis quite useless to struggle, he now again begins to suspect. And as the\nfirst faint dawn appears, and he begins dimly to make out the face, the\nquiet breathing of which he had felt on his own during the contest, the\nman with whom he wrestles touches the strongest sinew in Jacob's body,\nand the muscle on which the wrestler most depends shrivels at the touch\nand reveals to the falling Jacob how utterly futile had been all his\nskill and obstinacy, and how quickly the stranger might have thrown and\nmastered him.\n\nAll in a moment, as he falls, Jacob sees how it is with him, and Who it\nis that has met him thus. As the hard, stiff, corded muscle shrivelled,\nso shrivelled his obdurate, persistent self-confidence. And as he is\nthrown, yet cleaves with the natural tenacity of a wrestler to his\nconqueror; so, utterly humbled before this Mighty One whom now he\nrecognises and owns, he yet cleaves to Him and entreats His blessing. It\nis at this touch, which discovers the Almighty power of Him with whom he\nhas been contending, that the whole nature of Jacob goes down before\nGod. He sees how foolish and vain has been his obstinate persistence in\nstriving to trick God out of His blessing, or wrest it from Him, and now\nhe owns his utter incapacity to advance one step in this way, he admits\nto himself that he is stopped, weakened in the way, thrown on his back,\nand can effect nothing, simply nothing, by what he thought would effect\nall; and, therefore, he passes from wrestling to praying, and with\ntears, as Hosea says, sobs out from the broken heart of the strong man,\n\"I will not let thee go except thou bless me.\" In making this transition\nfrom the boldness and persistence of self-confidence to the boldness of\nfaith and humility, Jacob becomes Israel--the supplanter, being baffled\nby his conqueror, rises a Prince. Disarmed of all other weapons, he at\nlast finds and uses the weapons wherewith God is conquered, and with the\nsimplicity and guilelessness now of an Israelite indeed, face to face\nwith God, hanging helpless with his arms around Him, he supplicates the\nblessing he could not win.\n\nThus, as Abraham had to become God's heir in the simplicity of humble\ndependence on God; as Isaac had to lay himself on God's altar with\nabsolute resignation, and so become the heir of God, so Jacob enters on\nthe inheritance through the most thorough humbling. Abraham had to give\nup all possessions and live on God's promise; Isaac had to give up life\nitself; Jacob had to yield his very self, and abandon all dependence on\nhis own ability. The new name he receives signalizes and interprets this\ncrisis in his life. He enters his land not as Jacob, but as Israel. The\nman who crossed the Jabbok was not the same as he who had cheated Esau\nand outwitted Laban and determinedly striven this morning with the\nangel. He was Israel, God's prince, entering on the land freely bestowed\non him by an authority none could resist; a man who had learned that in\norder to receive from God, one must ask.\n\nVery significant to Jacob in his after life must have been the lameness\nconsequent on this night's struggle. He, the wrestler, had to go halting\nall his days. He who had carried all his weapons in his own person, in\nhis intelligent watchful eye and tough right arm, he who had felt\nsufficient for all emergencies and a match for all men, had now to limp\nalong as one who had been worsted and baffled and could not hide his\nshame from men. So it sometimes happens that a man never recovers the\nsevere handling he has received at some turning point in his life. Often\nthere is never again the same elastic step, the same free and confident\nbearing, the same apparent power, the same appearance to our fellow-men\nof completeness in our life; but, instead of this, there is a humble\ndecision which, if it does not walk with so free a gait, yet knows\nbetter what ground it is treading and by what right. To the end some men\nbear the marks of the heavy stroke by which God first humbled them. It\ncame in a sudden shock that broke their health, or in a disappointment\nwhich nothing now given can ever quite obliterate the trace of, or in\ncircumstances painfully and permanently altered. And the man has to say\nwith Jacob, I shall never now be what I might have been; I was resolved\nto have my own way, and though God in His mercy did not suffer me to\ndestroy myself, yet to drive me from my purpose He was forced to use a\nviolence, under the effects of which I go halting all my days, saved and\nwhole, yet maimed to the end of time. I am not ashamed of the mark, at\nleast when I think of it as God's signature I am able to glory in it,\nbut it never fails to remind me of a perverse wilfulness I am ashamed\nof. With many men God is forced to such treatment; if any of us are\nunder it, God forbid we should mistake its meaning and lie prostrate and\ndespairing in the darkness instead of clinging to Him Who has smitten\nand will heal us.\n\nFor the treatment which Jacob received at Peniel must not be set aside\nas singular or exceptional. Sometimes God interposes between us and a\ngreatly-desired possession which we have been counting upon as our right\nand as the fair and natural consequence of our past efforts and ways.\nThe expectation of this possession has indeed determined our movements\nand shaped our life for some time past, and it would not only be\nassigned to us by men as fairly ours, but God also has Himself seemed to\nencourage us to win it. Yet when it is now within sight, and when we are\nrising to pass the little stream which seems alone to separate us from\nit, we are arrested by a strong, an irresistible hand. The reason is,\nthat God wishes us to be in such a state of mind that we shall receive\nit as His gift, so that it becomes ours by an indefeasible title.\n\nSimilarly, when advancing to a spiritual possession, such checks are not\nwithout their use. Many men look with longing to what is eternal and\nspiritual, and they resolve to win this inheritance. And this resolve\nthey often make as if its accomplishment depended solely on their own\nendurance. They leave almost wholly out of account that the possibility\nof their entering the state they long for is not decided by their\nreadiness to pass through any ordeal, spiritual or physical, which may\nbe required of them, but by God's willingness to give it. They act as if\nby taking advantage of God's promises, and by passing through certain\nstates of mind and prescribed duties, they could, irrespective of God's\npresent attitude towards them and constant love, win eternal happiness.\nIn the life of such persons there must therefore come a time when their\nown spiritual energy seems all to collapse in that painful, utter way\nin which, when the body is exhausted, the muscles are suddenly found to\nbe cramped and heavy and no longer responsive to the will. They are made\nto feel that a spiritual dislocation has taken place, and that their\neagerness to enter life everlasting no longer stirs the active energies\nof the soul.\n\nIn that hour the man learns the most valuable truth he can learn, that\nit is God Who is wishing to save him, not he who must wrest a blessing\nfrom an unwilling God. Instead of any longer looking on himself as\nagainst the world, he takes his place as one who has the whole energy of\nGod's will at his back, to give him rightful entrance into all\nblessedness. So long as Jacob was in doubt whether it was not some kind\nof man that was opposing him, he wrestled on; and our foolish ways of\ndealing with God terminate, when we recognise that He is not such an one\nas ourselves. We naturally act as if God had some pleasure in thwarting\nus--as if we could, and even ought to, maintain a kind of contest with\nGod. We deal with Him as if He were opposed to our best purposes and\ngrudged to advance us in all good, and as if He needed to be propitiated\nby penitence and cajoled by forced feelings and sanctimonious demeanour.\nWe act as if we could make more way were God not in our way, as if our\nbest prospects began in our own conception and we had to win God over to\nour views. If God is unwilling, then there is an end: no device nor\nforce will get us past Him. If He is willing, why all this unworthy\ndealing with Him, as if the whole idea and accomplishment of salvation\ndid not proceed from Him?\n\n\n\n\nXXIV.\n\n_JACOB'S RETURN._\n\nGENESIS xxxv.\n\n    \"As for me, when I came from Padan, Rachel died by me in the land of\n    Canaan in the way.\"--GEN. xlviii. 7.\n\n\nThe words of the Wrestler at the brook Jabbok, \"Let me go, for the day\nbreaketh,\" express the truth that spiritual things will not submit\nthemselves to sensible tests. When we seek to let the full daylight, by\nwhich we discern other objects, stream upon them, they elude our grasp.\nWhen we fancy we are on the verge of having our doubts for ever\nscattered, and our suppositions changed into certainties, the very\napproach of clear knowledge and demonstration seems to drive those\nsensitive spiritual presences into darkness. As Pascal remarked, and\nremarked as the mouth-piece of all souls that have earnestly sought for\nGod, the world only gives us indications of the presence of a God Who\nconceals Himself. It is, indeed, one of the most mysterious\ncharacteristics of our life in this world, that the great Existence\nwhich originates and embraces all other Beings, should Himself be so\nsilent and concealed: that there should be need of subtle arguments to\nprove His existence, and that no argument ever conceived has been found\nsufficiently cogent to convince all men. One is always tempted to say,\nhow easy to end all doubt, how easy for God so to reveal Himself as to\nmake unbelief impossible, and give to all men the glad consciousness\nthat they have a God.\n\nThe reason of this \"reserve\" of God must lie in the nature of things.\nThe greatest forces in nature are silent and unobtrusive and\nincomprehensible. Without the law of gravitation the universe would rush\ninto ruin, but who has ever seen this force? Its effects are everywhere\nvisible, but itself is shrouded in darkness and cannot be comprehended.\nSo much more must the Infinite Spirit remain unseen and baffling all\ncomprehension. \"No man hath seen God at any time\" must ever remain true.\nTo ask for God's name, therefore, as Jacob did, is a mistake. For almost\nevery one supposes that when he knows the name of a thing, he knows also\nits nature. The giving of a name, therefore, tends to discourage\nenquiry, and to beget an unfounded satisfaction as if, when we know what\na thing is called, we know what it is. The craving, therefore, which we\nall feel in common with Jacob--to have all mystery swept from between us\nand God, and to see Him face to face, so that we may know Him as we know\nour friends--is a craving which cannot be satisfied. You cannot ever\nknow God as He is. Your mind cannot comprehend a Being who is pure\nSpirit, inhabiting no body, present with you here but present also\nhundreds of millions of miles away, related to time and to space and to\nmatter in ways utterly impossible for you to comprehend.\n\nWhat is possible, God has done. He has made Himself known in Christ. We\nare assured, on testimony that stands every kind of test, that in Him,\nif nowhere else, we find God. And yet even by Christ this same law of\nreserve if not concealment was observed. Not only did He forbid men and\ndevils to proclaim who He was, but when men, weary of their own doubts\nand debatings, impatiently challenged him, \"If thou be the Christ tell\nus plainly,\" He declined to do so. For really men must grow to the\nknowledge of Him. Even a human face cannot be known by once or twice\nseeing it; the practised artist often misses the expression best loved\nby the intimate friend, or by the relative whose own nature interprets\nto him the face in which he sees himself reflected. Much more can the\nchild of God only attain to the knowledge of his Father's face by first\nof all _being_ a child of God, and then by gradually growing up into His\nlikeness.\n\nBut though God's operation is in darkness the results of it are in the\nlight. \"As Jacob passed over Peniel, the _sun rose_ upon him, and he\nhalted upon his thigh.\" As Jacob's company halted when they missed him,\nand as many anxious eyes were turned back into the darkness, they were\nunable still to see him; and even when the darkness began to scatter,\nand they saw dimly and far off a human figure, the sharpest eyes among\nthem declare it cannot be Jacob, for the gait and walk, which alone they\ncan judge by at that distance and in that light, are not his. But when\nat last the first ray of sunlight streams on him from over the hills of\nGilead, all doubt is at an end; it _is_ Jacob, but halting on his thigh.\nAnd he himself finds it is not a strain which the walking of a few paces\nwill ease, nor a night cramp which will pass off, nor a mere dream which\nwould vanish in broad day, but a real permanent lameness which he must\nexplain to his company. Has he missed a step on the bank in the\ndarkness, or stumbled or slipped on the slippery stones of the ford? It\nis a far more real thing to him than any such accident. So, however\nothers may discredit the results of a work on the soul which they have\nnot seen--however they may say of the first and most obvious results,\n\"This is but a sickness of soul which the rising sun will dispel; a\nfeigned peculiarity of walk which will be forgotten in the bustle of the\nday's work\"--it is not so, but every contact with real life makes it\nmore obvious that when God touches a man the result is real. And as\nJacob's household and children in all generations counted that sinew\nwhich shrank sacred, and would not eat of it, so surely should we be\nreverential towards God's work in the soul of our neighbour, and respect\neven those peculiarities which are often the most obvious first-fruits\nof conversion, and which make it difficult for us to walk in the same\ncomfort with these persons, and keep step with them as easily as once we\ndid. A reluctance to live like other good people, an inability to share\ntheir innocent amusements, a distaste for the very duties of this life,\na harsh or reserved bearing towards unconverted persons, an awkwardness\nin speaking of their religious experience, as well as an awkwardness in\napplying it to the ordinary circumstances of their life,--these and many\nother of the results of God's work on the soul should not be rudely\ndealt with, but respected; for though not in themselves either seemly or\nbeneficial, they are evidence of God's touch.\n\nAfter this contest with the angel, the meeting of Jacob with Esau has no\nseparate significance. Jacob succeeds with his brother because already\nhe has prevailed with God. He is on a satisfactory footing now with the\nSovereign who alone can bestow the land and judge betwixt him and his\nbrother. Jacob can no longer suppose that the chief obstacle to his\nadvance is the resentment of Esau. He has felt and submitted to a\nstronger hand than Esau's. Such schooling we all need; and get, if we\nwill take it. Like Jacob, we have to make our way to our end through\nnumberless human interferences and worldly obstacles. Some of these we\nhave to flee from, as Jacob from Laban; others we must meet and\novercome, as our Esaus. Our own sin or mistake has put us under the\npower of some whose influence is disastrous; others, though we are not\nunder their power at all, yet, consciously or unconsciously to\nthemselves, continually cross our path and thwart us, keep us back and\nprevent us from effecting what we desire, and from shaping things about\nus according to our own ideas. And there will, from time to time, be\npresent to our minds obvious ways in which we could defeat the\nopposition of these persons, and by which we fancy we could triumph over\nthem. And what we are here taught is, that we need look for no triumph,\nand it is a pity for us if we win a triumph over any human opposition,\nhowever purely secular and unchristian, without first having prevailed\nwith God in the matter. He comes in between us and all men and things,\nand, laying His hand on us, arrests us from further progress till we\nhave to the very bottom and in every part adjusted the affair with\nHim--and then, standing right with Him, we can very easily, or at least\nwe _can_, get right with all things. And it should be a suggestive and\nfruitful thought to the most of us that, in all cases in which we sin\nagainst our brother, God presents Himself as the champion of the wronged\nparty. One day or other we must meet not the strongest putting of all\nthose cases in which we have erred as the offended party could himself\nput them, but we must meet them as put by the Eternal Advocate of\njustice and right, who saw our spirit, our merely selfish calculating,\nour base motive, our impure desire, our unrighteous deed. Gladly would\nJacob have met the mightiest of Esau's host in place of this invincible\nopponent, and it is this same Mighty One, this same watchful guardian of\nright Who threw Himself in Jacob's way, Who has His eye on us, Who has\ntracked us through all our years, and Who will certainly one time appear\nin our path as the champion of every one we have wronged, of every one\nwhose soul we have put in jeopardy, of every one to whom we have not\ndone what God intended we should do, of every one whom we have attempted\nmerely to make use of; and in stating their case and showing us what\njustice and duty would have required of us, He will make us feel, what\nwe cannot feel till He Himself convinces us, that, in all our dealings\nwith men, wherein we have wronged them we have wronged Him.\n\nThe narrative now prepares to leave Jacob and make room for Joseph. It\nbrings him back to Bethel, thereby completing the history of his triumph\nover the difficulties with which his life had been so thickly studded.\nThe interest and much of the significance of a man's life come to an end\nwhen position and success are achieved. The remaining notices of Jacob's\nexperience are of a sorrowful kind; he lives under a cloud until at the\nclose the sun shines out again. We have seen him in his youth making\nexperiments in life; in his prime founding a family and winning his way\nby slow and painful steps to his own place in the world; and now he\nenters on the last stage of his life, a stage in which signs of breaking\nup appear almost as soon as he attains his aim and place in life.\n\nAfter all that had happened to Jacob, we should have expected him to\nmake for Bethel as rapidly as his unwieldy company could be moved\nforwards. But the pastures that had charmed the eye of his grandfather\ncaptivated Jacob as well. He bought land at Shechem, and appeared\nwilling to settle there. The vows which he had uttered with such fervour\nwhen his future was precarious are apparently quite forgotten, or more\nprobably neglected, now that danger seems past. To go to Bethel involved\nthe abandonment of admirable pastures, and the introduction of new\nreligious views and habits into his family life. A man who has large\npossessions, difficult and precarious relations to sustain with the\nworld, and a household unmanageable from its size, and from the variety\nof dispositions included in it, requires great independence and\ndetermination to carry out domestic reform on religious grounds. Even a\nslight change in our habits is often delayed because we are shy of\nexposing to observation fresh and deep convictions on religious\nsubjects. Besides, we forget our fears and our vows when the time of\nhardship passes away; and that which, as young men, we considered almost\nhopeless, we at length accept as our right, and omit all remembrance and\ngratitude. A spiritual experience that is separated from your present by\ntwenty years of active life, by a foreign residence, by marriage, by the\ngrowing up of a family around you, by other and fresher spiritual\nexperiences, is apt to be very indistinctly remembered. The obligations\nyou then felt and owned have been overlaid and buried in the lapse of\nyears. And so it comes that a low tone is introduced into your life, and\nyour homes cease to be model homes.\n\nOut of this condition Jacob was roughly awakened. Sinning by\nunfaithfulness and softness towards his family, he is, according to the\nusual law, punished by family disaster of the most painful kind. The\nconduct of Simeon and Levi was apparently due quite as much to family\npride and religious fanaticism as to brotherly love or any high moral\nview. In them first we see how the true religion, when held by coarse\nand ungodly men, becomes the root of all evil. We see the first instance\nof that fanaticism which so often made the Jews a curse rather than a\nblessing to other nations. Indeed, it is but an instance of the\ninjustice, cruelty, and violence that at all times result where men\nsuppose that they themselves are raised to quite peculiar privileges and\nto a position superior to their fellows, without recognising also that\nthis position is held by the grace of a holy God and for the good of\ntheir fellows.\n\nJacob is now compelled to make a virtue of necessity. He flees to Bethel\nto escape the vengeance of the Shechemites. To such serious calamities\ndo men expose themselves by arguing with conscience and by refusing to\nlive up to their engagements. How can men be saved from living merely\nfor sheep-feeding and cattle-breeding and trade and enjoyment? how can\nthey be saved from gradually expelling from their character all\nprinciple and all high sentiment that conflicts with immediate advantage\nand present pleasure, save by such irresistible blows as here compelled\nJacob to shift his camp? He has spiritual perception enough left to see\nwhat is meant. The order is at once issued: \"Put away the strange gods\nthat are among you, and be clean, and change your garments: and let us\narise, and go up to Bethel; and I will make there an altar unto God, who\nanswered me in the day of my distress, and was with me in the way which\nI went.\" Thus frankly does he acknowledge his error, and repair, so far\nas he can, the evil he has done. Thus decidedly does he press God's\ncommand on those whom he had hitherto encouraged or connived at. Even\nfrom his favourite Rachel he takes her gods and buries them. The fierce\nSimeon and Levi, proud of the blood with which they had washed out their\nsister's stain, are ordered to cleanse their garments and show some\nseemly sorrow, if they can.\n\nIf years go by without any such incident occurring in our life as drives\nus to a recognition of our moral laxity and deterioration, and to a\nfrank and humble return to a closer walk with God, we had need to strive\nto awaken ourselves and ascertain whether we are living up to old vows\nand are really animated by thoroughly worthy motives. It was when Jacob\ncame back to the very spot where he had lain on the open hill-side, and\npointed out to his wives and children the stone he had set up to mark\nthe spot, that he felt humbled as he cast his eye over the flocks and\ntents he now owned. And if you can, like Jacob, go back to spots in your\nlife which were very woful and perplexed, years even when all continued\ndreary, dark, and hopeless, when friendlessness and poverty, bereavement\nor disease, laid their chilling, crushing hands upon you, times when you\ncould not see what possible good there was for you in the world; and if\nnow all this is solved, and your condition is in the most striking\ncontrast to what you can remember, it becomes you to make acknowledgment\nto God such as you may have made to your friends, such acknowledgment as\nmakes it plain that you are touched by His kindness. The acknowledgment\nJacob made was sensible and honest. He put away the gods which had\ndivided the worship of his family. In our life there is probably that\nwhich constantly tends to usurp an undue place in our regard; something\nwhich gives us more pleasure than the thought of God, or from which we\nreally expect a more palpable benefit than we expect from God, and\nwhich, therefore, we cultivate with far greater assiduity. How easily,\nif we really wish to be on a clear footing with God, can we discover\nwhat things should be cast revengefully from us, buried and stamped upon\nand numbered with the things of the past. Are there not in your life any\nobjects for the sake of which you sacrifice that nearness to God, and\nthat sure hold of Him you once enjoyed? Are you not conscious of any\npursuits, or hopes, or pleasures, or employments which practically have\nthe effect of making you indifferent to spiritual advancement, and which\nmake you shy of Bethel--shy of all that sets clear before you your\nindebtedness to God, and your own past vows and resolves?\n\n\"But,\" continues the narrative, \"_but_ Deborah, Rebekah's nurse, died;\"\nthat is, although Jacob and his house were now living in the fear of\nGod, that did not exempt them from the ordinary distresses of family\nlife. And among these, one that falls on us with a chastening and mild\nsadness all its own, occurs when there passes from the family one of its\noldest members, and one who has by the delicate tact of love gained\ninfluence over all, and has by the common consent become the arbiter and\nmediator, the confidant and counsellor of the family. They, indeed, are\nthe true salt of the earth whose own peace is so deep and abiding, and\nwhose purity is so thorough and energetic, that into their ear we can\ndisburden the troubled heart or the guilty conscience, as the wildest\nbrook disturbs not and the most polluted fouls not the settled depths\nof the all-cleansing ocean. Such must Deborah have been, for the oak\nunder which she was buried was afterwards known as \"the oak of weeping.\"\nSpecially must Jacob himself have mourned the death of her whose face\nwas the oldest in his remembrance, and with whom his mother and his\nhappy early days were associated. Very dear to Jacob, as to most men,\nwere those who had been connected with and could tell him of his\nparents, and remind him of his early years. Deborah, by treating him\nstill as a little boy, perhaps the only one who now called him by the\npet name of childhood, gave him the pleasantest relief from the cares of\nmanhood and the obsequious deportment of the other members of his\nhousehold towards him. So that when she went a great blank was made to\nhim: no longer was the wise and happy old face seen in her tent door to\ngreet him of an evening; no longer could he take refuge in the\npeacefulness of her old age from the troubles of his lot: she being\ngone, a whole generation was gone, and a new stage of life was entered\non.\n\nBut a heavier blow, the heaviest that death could inflict, soon fell\nupon him. She who had been as God's gift and smile to him since ever he\nhad left Bethel at the first is taken from him now that he is restored\nto God's house. The number of his sons is completed, and the mother is\nremoved. Suddenly and unexpectedly the blow fell, as they were\njourneying and fearing no ill. Notwithstanding the confident and\ncheering, though ambiguous, assurances of those about her, she had that\nclear knowledge of her own state which, without contradicting, simply\nput aside such assurances, and, as her soul was departing, feebly named\nher son Benoni, Son of my sorrow. She felt keenly what was, to a nature\nlike hers, the very anguish of disappointment. She was never to feel the\nlittle creature stirring in her arms with personal human life, nor see\nhim growing up to manhood as the son of his father's right hand. It was\nthis sad death of Rachel's which made her the typical mother in Israel.\nIt was not an unclouded, merely prosperous life which could fitly have\nforeshadowed the lives of those by whom the promised seed was to come;\nand least of all of the virgin to whom it was said, \"A sword shall\npierce through thine own soul also.\" It was the wail of Rachel that\npoetical minds among the Jews heard from time to time mourning their\nnational disasters--\"Rachel weeping\" for her children, when by captivity\nthey were separated from their mother country, or when, by the sword of\nHerod, the mothers of Bethlehem were bereaved of their babes. But it was\nalso observed that that which brought this anguish on the mothers of\nBethlehem was the birth there of the last Son of Israel, the blossom of\nthis long-growing plant, suddenly born after a long and barren period,\nthe son of Israel's right hand.\n\nStill another death is registered in this chapter. It took place twelve\nyears after Joseph went into Egypt, but is set down here for\nconvenience. Esau and Jacob are, for the last time, brought together\nover their dead father--and for the last time, as they see that family\nlikeness which comes out so strikingly in the face of the dead, do they\nfeel drawn with brotherly affection to greet one another as sons of one\nfather. In the dead Isaac, too, they find an object of veneration more\nimpressive than they had found in the living father: the infirmities of\nage are exchanged for the mystery and majesty of death; the man has\npassed out of reach of pity, of contempt; the shrill, uncontrolled\ntreble is no longer heard, there are no weak, plaintive movements, no\nchildishness; but a solemn, august silence, a silence that seems to bid\non-lookers be still and refrain from disturbing the first communings of\nthe departed spirit with things unseen.\n\nThe tenderness of these two brothers towards one another and towards\ntheir father was probably quickened by remorse when they met at his\ndeathbed. They could not, perhaps, think that they had hastened his end\nby causing him anxieties which age has not strength to throw off; but\nthey could not miss the reflection that the life now closed and finally\nsealed up might have been a much brighter life had they acted the part\nof dutiful, loving sons. Scarcely can one of our number pass from among\nus without leaving in our minds some self-reproach that we were not more\nkindly towards him, and that now he is beyond our kindness; that our\nopportunity for being brotherly towards _him_ is for ever gone. And when\nwe have very manifestly erred in this respect, perhaps there are among\nall the stings of a guilty conscience few more bitterly piercing than\nthis. Many a son who has stood unmoved by the tears of a living\nmother--his mother by whom he lives, who has cherished him as her own\nsoul, who has forgiven and forgiven and forgiven him, who has toiled and\nprayed, and watched for him--though he has hardened himself against her\nlooks of imploring love and turned carelessly from her entreaties and\nburst through all the fond cords and snares by which she has sought to\nkeep him, has yet broken down before the calm, unsolicitous, resting\nface of the dead. Hitherto he has not listened to her pleadings, and now\nshe pleads no more. Hitherto she has heard no word of pure love from\nhim, and now she hears no more. Hitherto he has done nothing for her of\nall that a son may do, and now there is nothing he can do. All the\ngoodness of her life gathers up and stands out at once, and the time for\ngratitude is past. He sees suddenly, as by the withdrawal of a veil, all\nthat that worn body has passed through for him, and all the goodness\nthese features have expressed, and now they can never light up with\njoyful acceptance of his love and duty. Such grief as this finds its one\nalleviation in the knowledge that we may follow those who have gone\nbefore us; that we may yet make reparation. And when we think how many\nwe have let pass without those frank, human, kindly offices we might\nhave rendered, the knowledge that we also shall be gathered to our\npeople comes in as very cheering. It is a grateful thought that there is\na place where we shall be able to live rightly, where selfishness will\nnot intrude and spoil all, but will leave us free to be to our neighbour\nall that we ought to be and all that we would be.\n\n\n\n\nXXV.\n\n_JOSEPH'S DREAMS._\n\nGENESIS xxxvii.\n\n    \"Surely the wrath of man shall praise thee.\"--PSALM lxxvi. 10.\n\n\nThe migration of Israel from Canaan to Egypt was a step of prime\nimportance in the history. Great difficulties surrounded it, and very\nextraordinary means were used to bring it about. The preparatory steps\noccupied about twenty years, and nearly a fourth of the Book of Genesis\nis devoted to this period. This migration was a new idea. So little was\nit the result of an accidental dearth, or of any of those unforeseen\ncalamities which cause families to emigrate from our own country, that\nGod had forewarned Abraham himself that it must be. But only when it was\nbecoming matter of actual experience and of history did God make known\nthe precise object to be accomplished by it. This He makes known to\nJacob as he passes from Canaan; and as, in abandoning the land he had so\npainfully won, his heart sinks, he is sustained by the assurance, \"Fear\nnot to go down into Egypt; I will there make thee a great nation.\"\n\nThe meaning of the step and the suitableness of the time and of the\nplace to which Israel migrated, are apparent. For more than two hundred\nyears now had Abraham and his descendants been wandering as pilgrims,\nand as yet there were no signs of God's promise being kept to them. That\npromise had been of a land and of a seed. Great fecundity had been\npromised to the race; but instead of that there had been a remarkable\nand perplexing barrenness, so that after two centuries one tent could\ncontain the whole male population. In Jacob's time the population began\nto increase, but just in proportion as this part of the promise showed\nsigns of fulfilment did the other part seem precarious. For, in\nproportion to their increase, the family became hostile to the\nCanaanites, and how should they ever get past that critical point in\ntheir history at which they would be strong enough to excite the\nsuspicion, jealousy, and hatred of the indigenous tribes, and yet not\nstrong enough to defend themselves against this enmity? Their presence\nwas tolerated, just as our countrymen tolerated the presence of French\nrefugees, on the score of their impotence to do harm. They were placed\nin a quite anomalous position; a single family who had continued for two\nhundred years in a land which they could only seem in jest to call\ntheirs, dwelling as guests amid the natives, maintaining peculiar forms\nof worship and customs. Collision with the inhabitants seemed\nunavoidable as soon as their real character and pretensions oozed out,\nand as soon as it seemed at all likely that they really proposed to\nbecome owners and masters in the land. And, in case of such collision,\nwhat could be the result, but that which has ever followed where a few\nscore men, brave enough to be cut down where they stood, have been\nexposed to mass after mass of fierce and blood-thirsty barbarians? A\nsmall number of men have often made good their entrance into lands where\nthe inhabitants greatly outnumbered them, but these have commonly been\nhighly disciplined troops, as in the case of the handful of Spaniards\nwho seized Mexico and Peru; or they have been backed by a power which\ncould aid with vast resources, as when the Romans held this country, or\nwhen the English lad in India left his pen on his desk and headed his\nfew resolute countrymen, and held his own against unnumbered millions.\nIt may be argued that if even Abraham with his own household swept\nCanaan clear of invaders, it might now have been possible for his\ngrandson to do as much with increased means at his disposal. But, not to\nmention that every man has not the native genius for command and\nmilitary enterprise which Abraham had, it must be taken into account\nthat a force which is quite sufficient for a marauding expedition or a\nnight attack, is inadequate for the exigencies of a campaign of several\nyears' duration. The war which Jacob must have waged, had hostilities\nbeen opened, must have been a war of extermination, and such a war must\nhave desolated the house of Israel if victorious, and, more probably by\nfar, would have quite annihilated it.\n\nIt is to obviate these dangers, and to secure that Israel grow without\nlet or hindrance, that Jacob's household is removed to a land where\nprotection and seclusion would at once be secured to them. In the land\nof Goshen, secured from molestation partly by the influence of Joseph,\nbut much more by the caste-prejudices of the Egyptians, and their hatred\nof all foreigners, and shepherds in particular, they enjoyed such\nprosperity and attained so rapidly the magnitude of a nation that some,\nforgetful alike of the promise of God and of the natural advantages of\nIsrael's position, have refused to credit the accounts given us of the\nincrease in their population. In a land so roomy, so fertile, and so\nsecluded as that in which they were now settled, they had every\nadvantage for making the transition from a family to a nation. Here they\nwere preserved from all temptation to mingle with neighbours of a\ndifferent race, and so lose their special place as a people called out\nby God to stand alone. The Egyptians would have scorned the marriages\nwhich the Canaanites passionately solicited. Here the very contempt in\nwhich they were held proved to be their most valuable bulwark. And if\nChristians have any of the wisdom of the serpent, they will often find\nin the contempt or exclusiveness of worldly men a convenient barrier,\npreventing them, indeed, from enjoying some privileges, but at the same\ntime enabling them, without molestation, to pursue their own way. I\nbelieve young people especially feel put about by the deprivations which\nthey have to suffer in order to save their religious scruples; they are\nshut off from what their friends and associates enjoy, and they perceive\nthat they are not so well liked as they would be had they less desire to\nlive by conscience and by God's will. They feel ostracized, banished,\nfrowned upon, laid under disabilities; but all this has its\ncompensations: it forms for them a kind of Goshen where they may worship\nand increase, it runs a fence around them which keeps them apart from\nmuch that tempts and from much that enfeebles.\n\nThe residence of Israel in Egypt served another important purpose. By\ncontact with the most civilised people of antiquity they emerged from\nthe semi-barbarous condition in which they had previously been living.\nGoing into Egypt mere shepherds, as Jacob somewhat plaintively and\ndeprecatingly says to Pharaoh; not even possessed, so far as we know, of\nthe fundamental arts on which civilisation rests, unable to record in\nwriting the revelations God made, or to read them if recorded; having\nthe most rudimentary ideas of law and justice, and having nothing to\nkeep them together and give them form and strength, save the one idea\nthat God meant to confer on them great distinction; they were\ntransferred into a land where government had been so long established\nand law had come to be so thoroughly administered that life and property\nwere as safe as among ourselves to-day, where science had made such\nadvances that even the weather-beaten and time-stained relics of it seem\nto point to regions into which even the bold enterprise of modern\ninvestigation has not penetrated, and where all the arts needful for\nlife were in familiar use, and even some practised which modern times\nhave as yet been unable to recover. To no better school could the\nbarbarous sons of Bilhah and Zilpah have been sent; to no more fitting\ndiscipline could the lawless spirits of Reuben, Simeon, and Levi have\nbeen subjected. In Egypt, where human life was sacred, where truth was\nworshipped as a deity, and where law was invested with the sanctity\nwhich belonged to what was supposed to have descended from heaven, they\nwere brought under influences similar to those which ancient Rome\nexerted over conquered races.\n\nThe unwitting pioneer of this great movement was a man in all respects\nfitted to initiate it happily. In Joseph we meet a type of character\nrare in any race, and which, though occasionally reproduced in Jewish\nhistory, we should certainly not have expected to meet with at so early\na period. For what chiefly strikes one in Joseph is a combination of\ngrace and power, which is commonly looked upon as the peculiar result\nof civilising influences, knowledge of history, familiarity with foreign\nraces, and hereditary dignity. In David we find a similar flexibility\nand grace of character, and a similar personal superiority. We find the\nsame bright and humorous disposition helping him to play the man in\nadverse circumstances; but we miss in David Joseph's self-control and\nincorruptible purity, as we also miss something of his capacity for\ndifficult affairs of state. In Daniel this latter capacity is abundantly\npresent, and a facility equal to Joseph's in dealing with foreigners,\nand there is also a certain grace or nobility in the Jewish Vizier; but\nJoseph had a surplus of power which enabled him to be cheerful and alert\nin doleful circumstances, which Daniel would certainly have borne\nmanfully but probably in a sterner and more passive mood. Joseph,\nindeed, seemed to inherit and happily combine the highest qualities of\nhis ancestors. He had Abraham's dignity and capacity, Isaac's purity and\npower of self-devotion, Jacob's cleverness and buoyancy and tenacity.\nFrom his mother's family he had personal beauty, humour, and management.\n\nA young man of such capabilities could not long remain insensible to his\nown powers or indifferent to his own destiny. Indeed, the conduct of his\nfather and brothers towards him must have made him self-conscious, even\nthough he had been wholly innocent of introspection. The force of the\nimpression he produced on his family may be measured by the circumstance\nthat the princely dress given him by his father did not excite his\nbrothers' ridicule but their envy and hatred. In this dress there was a\nmanifest suitableness to his person, and this excited them to a keen\nresentment of the distinction. So too they felt that his dreams were\nnot the mere whimsicalities of a lively fancy, but were possessed of a\nverisimilitude which gave them importance. In short, the dress and the\ndreams were insufferably exasperating to the brothers, because they\nproclaimed and marked in a definite way the feeling of Joseph's\nsuperiority which had already been vaguely rankling in their\nconsciousness. And it is creditable to Joseph that this superiority\nshould first have emerged in connection with a point of conduct. It was\nin moral stature that the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah felt that they were\noutgrown by the stripling whom they carried with them as their drudge.\nNeither are we obliged to suppose that Joseph was a gratuitous\ntale-bearer, or that when he carried their evil report to his father he\nwas actuated by a prudish, censorious, or in any way unworthy spirit.\nThat he very well knew how to hold his tongue no man ever gave more\nadequate proof; but he that understands that there is a time to keep\nsilence necessarily sees also that there is a time to speak. And no one\ncan tell what torture that pure young soul may have endured in the\nremote pastures, when left alone to withstand day after day the outrage\nof these coarse and unscrupulous men. An elder brother, if he will, can\nmore effectually guard the innocence of a younger brother than any other\nrelative can, but he can also inflict a more exquisite torture.\n\nJoseph, then, could not but come to think of his future and of his\ndestiny in this family. That his father should make a pet of him rather\nthan of Benjamin, he would refer to the circumstance that he was the\noldest son of the wife of his choice, of her whom first he had loved,\nand who had no rival while he lived. To so charming a companion as\nJoseph must always have been, Jacob would naturally impart all the\ntraditions and hopes of the family. In him he found a sympathetic and\nappreciative listener, who wiled him on to endless narrative, and whose\nimaginativeness quickened his own hopes and made the future seem grander\nand the world more wide. And what Jacob had to tell could fall into no\nkindlier soil than the opening mind of Joseph. No hint was lost, every\npromise was interpreted by some waiting aspiration. And thus, like every\nyouth of capacity, he came to have his day-dreams. These day-dreams,\nthough derided by those who cannot see the Caesar in the careless\ntrifler, and though often awkward and even offensive in their\nexpression, are not always the mere discontented cravings of youthful\nvanity, but are frequently instinctive gropings towards the position\nwhich the nature is fitted to fill. \"Our wishes,\" it has been said, \"are\nthe forefeeling of our capabilities;\" and certainly where there is any\nspecial gift or genius in a man, the wish of his youth is predictive of\nthe attainment of manhood. Whims, no doubt, there are, passing phases\nthrough which natural growth carries us, flutterings of the needle when\ntoo near some powerful influence; yet amidst all variations the true\ndirection will be discernible and ultimately will be dominant. And it is\na great art to discover what we are fit for, so that we may settle down\nto our own work, or patiently wait for our own place, without enviously\nstriving to rob every other man of his crown and so losing our own. It\nis an art that saves us much fretting and disappointment and waste of\ntime, to understand early in life what it is we can accomplish, and what\nprecisely we mean to be at; \"to recognise in our personal gifts or\nstation, in the circumstances and complications of our life, in our\nrelations to others, or to the world--the will of God teaching us what\nwe are, and for what we ought to live.\" How much of life often is gone\nbefore its possessor sees the use he can put it to, and ceases to beat\nthe air! How much of life is an ill-considered but passionate striving\nafter what can never be attained, or a vain imitation of persons who\nhave quite different talents and opportunities from ourselves, and who\nare therefore set to quite another work than ours.\n\nIt was because Joseph's dreams embodied his waking ambition that they\nwere of importance. Dreams become significant when they are the\nconcentrated essence of the main stream of the waking thoughts, and\npicturesquely exhibit the tendency of the character. \"In a dream,\" says\nElihu, \"in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in\nslumberings upon the bed; then He openeth the ears of men, and sealeth\ntheir instruction, that He may withdraw man from his purpose.\" This is\nprecisely the use of dreams: our tendencies, unbridled by reason and\nfact, run on to results; the purposes which the business and other good\ninfluences of the day have kept down act themselves out in our dreams,\nand we see the character unimpeded by social checks, and as it would be\nwere it unmodified by the restraints and efforts and external\nconsiderations of our conscious hours. Our vanity, our pride, our\nmalice, our impurity, our deceit, our every evil passion, has free play,\nand shows us its finished result, and in so vivid and true though\ncaricatured a form that we are startled and withdrawn from our purpose.\nThe evil thought we have suffered to creep about our heart seems in our\ndreams to become a deed, and we wake in horror and thank God we can yet\nrefrain. Thus the poor woman, who in utter destitution was beginning to\nfind her child a burden, dreamt she had drowned it, and woke in horror\nat the fancied sound of the plunge--woke to clasp her little one to her\nbreast with the thrill of a grateful affection that never again gave\nway. So that while no man is so foolish as to expect instruction from\nevery dream any more than from every thought that visits his waking\nmind, yet every one who has been accumulating some knowledge of himself\nis aware that he has drawn a large part of this from his unconscious\nhours. As the naturalist would know but a small part of the animal\nkingdom by studying the creatures that show themselves in the daylight,\nso there are moles and bats of the spirit that exhibit themselves most\nfreely in the darkness; and there are jungles and waste places in the\ncharacter which, if you look on them only in the sunshine, may seem safe\nand lovely, but which at night show themselves to be full of all\nloathsome and savage beasts.\n\nWith the simplicity of a guileless mind, and with the natural proneness\nof members of one family to tell in the morning the dreams they have\nhad, Joseph tells to the rest what seems to himself interesting, if not\nvery suggestive. Possibly he thought very little of his dream till he\nsaw how much importance his brothers attached to it. Possibly there\nmight be discernible in his tone and look some mixture of youthful\narrogance. And in his relation of the second dream, there was\ndiscernible at least a confidence that it would be realised, which was\npeculiarly intolerable to his brothers, and to his father seemed a\ndangerous symptom that called for rebuke. And yet \"his father observed\nthe saying;\" as a parent has sometimes occasion to check his child, and\nyet, having done so, feels that that does not end the matter; that his\nboy and he are in somewhat different spheres, so that while he was\ncertainly justified in punishing such and such a manifestation of his\ncharacter, there is yet something behind that he does not quite\nunderstand, and for which possibly punishment may not be exactly the\nsuitable award.\n\nWe fall into Jacob's mistake when we refuse to acknowledge as genuine\nand God-inspired any religious experience which we ourselves have not\npassed through, and which appears in a guise that is not only\nunfamiliar, but that is in some particulars objectionable. Up to the\nmeasure of our own religious experience, we recognise as genuine, and\nsympathise with, the parallel experience of others; but when they rise\nabove us and get beyond us, we begin to speak of them as visionaries,\nenthusiasts, dreamers. We content ourselves with pointing again and\nagain to the blots in their manner, and refuse to read the future\nthrough the ideas they add to our knowledge. But the future necessarily\nlies, not in the definite and finished attainment, but in the indefinite\nand hazy and dream-like germs that have yet growth in them. The future\nis not with Jacob, the rebuker, but with the dreaming, and, possibly,\nsomewhat offensive Joseph. It was certainly a new element Joseph\nintroduced into the experience of God's people. He saw, obscurely\nindeed, but with sufficient clearness to make him thoughtful, that the\nman whom God chooses and makes a blessing to others is so far advanced\nabove his fellows that they lean upon him and pay him homage as if he\nwere in the place of God to them. He saw that his higher powers were to\nbe used for his brethren, and that the high destiny he somehow felt to\nbe his was to be won by doing service so essential that his family\nwould bow before him and give themselves into his hand. He saw this, as\nevery man whose love keeps pace with his talent sees it, and he so far\nanticipated the dignity of Him who, in the deepest self-sacrifice,\nassumed a position and asserted claims which enraged His brethren and\nmade even His believing mother marvel. Joseph knew that the welfare of\nhis family rested not with the Esau-like good-nature of Reuben, still\nless with the fanatical ferocity of Simeon and Levi, not with the\nservile patience of Issachar, nor with the natural force and dignity of\nJudah, but with some deeper qualities which, if he himself did not yet\npossess, he at least valued and aspired to.\n\nWhatever Joseph thought of the path by which he was to reach the high\ndignity which his dreams foreshadowed, he was soon to learn that the\npath was neither easy nor short. Each man thinks that, for himself at\nleast, an exceptional path will be broken out, and that without\ndifficulties and humiliations he will inherit the kingdom. But it cannot\nbe so. And as the first step a lad takes towards the attainment of his\nposition often involves him in trouble and covers him with confusion,\nand does so even although he ultimately finds that it was the only path\nby which he could have reached his goal; so, that which was really the\nfirst step towards Joseph's high destiny, no doubt seemed to him most\ncalamitous and fatal. It certainly did so to his brothers, who thought\nthat they were effectually and for ever putting an end to Joseph's\npretensions. \"Behold, this dreamer cometh; come now therefore, and let\nus slay him, and we shall see what will become of his dreams.\" They\nwere, however, so far turned from their purpose by Reuben as to put him\nin a pit, meaning to leave him to die; and, doubtless, they thought\nthemselves lenient in doing so. The less violent the death inflicted,\nthe less of murder seems to be in it; so that he who slowly kills the\nbody by only wounding the affections often counts himself no murderer at\nall, because he strikes no blood-shedding blow, and can deceive himself\ninto the idea that it is the working of his victim's own spirit that is\ndoing the damage.\n\nThe tank into which Joseph's brethren cast him was apparently one of\nthose huge reservoirs excavated by shepherds in the East, that they may\nhave a supply of water for their flocks in the end of the dry season,\nwhen the running waters fail them. Being so narrow at the mouth that\nthey can be covered by a single stone, they gradually widen and form a\nlarge subterranean room; and the facility they thus afford for the\nconfinement of prisoners was from the first too obvious not to be\ncommonly taken advantage of. In such a place was Joseph left to die:\nunder the ground, sinking in mire, his flesh creeping at the touch of\nunseen slimy creatures, in darkness, alone; that is to say, in a species\nof confinement which tames the most reckless and maddens the best\nbalanced spirits, which shakes the nerve of the calmest, and has\nsometimes left the blankness of idiocy in masculine understandings. A\nfew wild cries that ring painfully round his prison show him he need\nexpect no help from without; a few wild and desperate beatings round the\nshelving walls of rock show him there is no possibility of escape; he\ncovers his face, or casts himself on the floor of his dungeon to escape\nwithin himself, but only to find this also in vain, and to rise and\nrenew efforts he knows to be fruitless. Here, then, is what has come of\nhis fine dreams. With shame he now remembers the beaming confidence\nwith which he had related them; with bitterness he thinks of the bright\nlife above him, from which these few feet cut him so absolutely off, and\nof the quick termination that has been put to all his hopes.\n\nInto such tanks do young persons especially get cast; finding themselves\nsuddenly dropped out of the lively scenery and bright sunshine in which\nthey have been living, down into roomy graves where they seem left to\ndie at leisure. They had conceived a way of being useful in the world;\nthey had found an aim or a hope; they had, like Joseph, discerned their\nplace and were making towards it, when suddenly they seem to be thrown\nout and are left to learn that the world can do very well without them,\nthat the sun and moon and the eleven stars do not drop from their\ncourses or make wail because of their sad condition. High aims and\ncommendable purposes are not so easily fulfilled as they fancied. The\nfaculty and desire in them to be of service are not recognised. Men do\nnot make room for them, and God seems to disregard the hopes He has\nexcited in them. The little attempt at living they have made seems only\nto have got themselves and others into trouble. They begin to think it a\nmistake their being in the world at all; they curse the day of their\nbirth. Others are enjoying this life, and seem to be making something of\nit, having found work that suits and develops them; but, for their own\npart, they cannot get fitted into life at any point, and are excluded\nfrom the onward movement of the world. They are again and again flung\nback, until they fear they are not to see the fulfilment of any one\nbright dream that has ever visited them, and that they are never, never\nat all, to live out the life it is in them to live, or find light and\nscope for maturing those germs of the rich human nature that they feel\nwithin them.\n\nAll this is in the way to attainment. This or that check, this long\nburial for years, does not come upon you merely because stoppage and\nhindrance have been useful to others, but because your advancement lies\nthrough these experiences. Young persons naturally feel strongly that\nlife is all before them, that this life is, in the first place, their\nconcern, and that God must be proved sufficient for this life, able to\nbring them to their ideal. And the first lesson they have to learn is,\nthat mere youthful confidence and energy are not the qualities that\novercome the world. They have to learn that humility, and the ambition\nthat seeks great things, but not for ourselves, are the qualities really\nindispensable. But do men become humble by being told to become so, or\nby knowing they ought to be so? God must make us humble by the actual\nexperience we meet with in our ordinary life. Joseph, no doubt, knew\nvery well, what his aged grandfather must often have told him, that a\nman must die before he begins to live. But what could an ambitious,\nhappy youth make of this, till he was thrown into the pit and left\nthere? as truly passing through the bitterness of death as Isaac had\npassed through it, and as keenly feeling the pain of severance from the\nlight of life. Then, no doubt, he thought of Isaac, and of Isaac's God,\ntill between himself and the impenetrable dungeon-walls the everlasting\narms seemed to interpose, and through the darkness of his death-like\nsolitude the face of Jacob's God appeared to beam upon him, and he came\nto feel what we must, by some extremity, all be made to feel, that it\nwas not in this world's life but in God he lived, that nothing could\nbefall him which God did not will, and that what God had for him to do,\nGod would enable him to do.\n\nThe heartless barbarity with which the brethren of Joseph sat down to\neat and drink the very dainties he had brought them from his father,\nwhile they left him, as they thought, to starve, has been regarded by\nall later generations as the height of hard-hearted indifference. Amos,\nat a loss to describe the recklessness of his own generation, falls back\nupon this incident, and cries woe upon those \"that drink wine in bowls,\nand anoint themselves with the chief ointment, but they are not grieved\nfor the affliction of Joseph.\" We reflect, if we do not substantially\nreproduce, their sin when we are filled with animosity against those who\nusher in some higher kind of life, effort, or worship, than we ourselves\nas yet desire or are fit for, and which, therefore, reflects shame on\nour incapacity; and when we would fain, without using violence, get rid\nof such persons. There are often schemes set on foot by better men than\nourselves, against which somehow our spirit rises, yet which, did we\nconsider, we should at the most say with the cautious Gamaliel, Let us\nbeware of doing anything to hinder this, let us see whether, perchance,\nit be not of God. Sometimes there are in families individuals who do not\nget the encouragement in well-doing they might expect in a Christian\nfamily, but are rather frowned upon and hindered by the other members of\nit, because they seem to be inaugurating a higher style of religion than\nthe family is used to, and to be reflecting from their own conduct a\ncondemnation of what has hitherto been current.\n\nThis treatment, who among us has not extended to Him who in His whole\nexperience so closely resembles Joseph? So long as Christ is to us\nmerely, as it were, the pet of the family, the innocent, guileless,\nloving Being on whom we can heap pretty epithets, and in whom we find\nplay for our best affections, to whom it is easier to show ourselves\naffectionate and well-disposed than to the brothers who mingle with us\nin all our pursuits; so long as He remains to us as a child whose\ndemands it is a relaxation to fulfil, we fancy that we are giving Him\nour hearts, and that He, if any, has our love. But when He declares to\nus His dreams, and claims to be our Lord, to whom with most absolute\nhomage we must bow, who has a right to rule and means to rule over us,\nwho will have His will done by us and not our own, then the love we\nfancied seems to pass into something like aversion. His purposes we\nwould fain believe to be the idle fancies of a dreamer which He Himself\ndoes not expect us to pay much heed to. And if we do not resent the\nabsolute surrender of ourselves to Him which He demands, if the bowing\ndown of our fullest sheaves and brightest glory to Him is too little\nunderstood by us to be resented; if we think such dreams are not to come\ntrue, and that He does not mean much by demanding our homage, and\ntherefore do not resent the demand; yet possibly we can remember with\nshame how we have \"anointed ourselves with the chief ointment,\" lain\nlistlessly enjoying some of those luxuries which our Brother has brought\nus from the Father's house, and yet let Himself and His cause be buried\nout of sight--enjoyed the good name of Christian, the pleasant social\nrefinements of a Christian land, even the peace of conscience which the\nknowledge of the Christian's God produces, and yet turned away from the\ndeeper emotions which His personal entreaties stir, and from those\nself-sacrificing efforts which His cause requires if it is to prosper.\n\nThere are, too, unstable Reubens still, whom something always draws\naside, and who are ever out of the way when most needed; who, like him,\nare on the other side of the hill when Christ's cause is being betrayed;\nwho still count their own private business that which must be done, and\nGod's work that which may be done--work for themselves necessary, and\nGod's work only voluntary and in the second place. And there are also\nthose who, though they would be honestly shocked to be charged with\nmurdering Christ's cause, can yet leave it to perish.\n\n\n\n\nXXVI.\n\n_JOSEPH IN PRISON._\n\nGENESIS xxxix.\n\n    \"Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried,\n    he shall receive the crown of life.\"--JAMES i. 12.\n\n\nDramatists and novelists who make it their business to give accurate\nrepresentations of human life, proceed upon the understanding that there\nis a plot in it, and that if you take the beginning or middle without\nthe end, you must fail to comprehend these prior parts. And a plot is\npronounced good in proportion as, without violating truth to nature, it\nbrings the leading characters into situations of extreme danger or\ndistress, from which there seems no possible exit, and in which the\ncharacters themselves may have fullest opportunity to display and ripen\ntheir individual excellences. A life is judged poor and without\nsignificance, certainly unworthy of any longer record than a monumental\nepitaph may contain, if there be in it no critical passages, no\nemergencies when all anticipation of the next step is baffled, or when\nruin seems certain. Though it has been brought to a successful issue,\nyet, to make it worthy of our consideration, it must have been brought\nto this issue through hazard, through opposition, contrary to many\nexpectations that were plausibly entertained at the several stages of\nits career All men, in short, are agreed that the value of a human life\nconsists very much in the hazards and conflicts through which it is\ncarried; and yet we resent God's dealing with us when it comes to be our\nturn to play the hero, and by patient endurance and righteous endeavour\nto bring our lives to a successful issue. How flat and tame would this\nnarrative have read had Joseph by easy steps come to the dignity he at\nlast reached through a series of misadventures that called out and\nripened all that was manly and strong and tender in his character. And\ntake out of your own life all your difficulties, all that ever pained,\nagitated, depressed you, all that disappointed or postponed your\nexpectations, all that suddenly called upon you to act in trying\nsituations, all that thoroughly put you to the proof--take all this\naway, and what do you leave, but a blank insipid life that not even\nyourself can see any interest in?\n\nAnd when we speak of Joseph's life as typical, we mean that it\nillustrates on a great scale and in picturesque and memorable situations\nprinciples which are obscurely operative in our own experience. It\npleases the fancy to trace the incidental analogies between the life of\nJoseph and that of our Lord. As our Lord, so Joseph was the beloved of\nhis father, sent by him to visit his brethren, and see after their\nwell-being, seized and sold by them to strangers, and thus raised to be\ntheir Saviour and the Saviour of the world. Joseph in prison pronouncing\nthe doom of one of his fellow-prisoners and the exaltation of the other,\nsuggests the scene on Calvary where the one fellow-sufferer was taken,\nthe other left. Joseph's contemporaries had of course no idea that his\nlife foreshadowed the life of the Redeemer, yet they must have seen, or\nought to have seen, that the deepest humiliation is often the path to\nthe highest exaltation, that the deliverer sent by God to save a people\nmay come in the guise of a slave, and that false accusations,\nimprisonment, years of suffering, do not make it impossible nor even\nunlikely that he who endures all these may be God's chosen Son.\n\nIn Joseph's being lifted out of the pit only to pass into slavery, many\na man of Joseph's years has seen a picture of what has happened to\nhimself. From a position in which they have been as if buried alive,\nyoung men not uncommonly emerge into a position preferable certainly to\nthat out of which they have been brought, but in which they are\ncompelled to work beyond their strength, and _that_ for some superior in\nwhom they have no special interest. Grinding toil, and often cruel\ninsult, are their portion; and no necklace heavy with tokens of honour\nthat afterwards may be allotted them can ever quite hide the scars made\nby the iron collar of the slave. One need not pity them over much, for\nthey are young and have a whole life-time of energy and power of\nresistance in their spirit. And yet they will often call themselves\nslaves, and complain that all the fruit of their labour passes over to\nothers and away from themselves, and all prospect of the fulfilment of\ntheir former dreams is quite cut off. That which haunts their heart by\nday and by night, that which they seem destined and fit for, they never\nget time nor liberty to work out and attain. They are never viewed as\nproprietors of themselves, who may possibly have interests of their own\nand hopes of their own.\n\nIn Joseph's case there were many aggravations of the soreness of such a\ncondition. He had not one friend in the country. He had no knowledge of\nthe language, no knowledge of any trade that could make him valuable in\nEgypt--nothing, in short, but his own manhood and his faith in God. His\nintroduction to Egypt was of the most dispiriting kind. What could he\nexpect from strangers, if his own brothers had found him so obnoxious?\nNow when a man is thus galled and stung by injury, and has learned how\nlittle he can depend upon finding good faith and common justice in the\nworld, his character will show itself in the attitude he assumes towards\nmen and towards life generally. A weak nature, when it finds itself thus\ndeceived and injured, will sullenly surrender all expectation of good,\nand will vent its spleen on the world by angry denunciations of the\nheartless and ungrateful ways of men. A proud nature will gather itself\nup from every blow, and determinedly work its way to an adequate\nrevenge. A mean nature will accept its fate, and while it indulges in\ncynical and spiteful observations on human life, will greedily accept\nthe paltriest rewards it can secure. But the supreme healthiness of\nJoseph's nature resists all the infectious influences that emanate from\nthe world around him, and preserves him from every kind of morbid\nattitude towards the world and life. So easily did he throw off all vain\nregrets and stifle all vindictive and morbid feelings, so readily did he\nadjust himself to and so heartily enter into life as it presented itself\nto him, that he speedily rose to be overseer in the house of Potiphar.\nHis capacity for business, his genial power of devoting himself to other\nmen's interests, his clear integrity, were such, that this officer of\nPharaoh's could find no more trustworthy servant in all Egypt--\"he left\nall that he had in Joseph's hand: and he knew not ought he had, save the\nbread which he did eat.\"\n\nThus Joseph passed safely through a critical period of his life--the\nperiod during which men assume the attitude towards life and their\nfellow-men which they commonly retain throughout. Too often we accept\nthe weapons with which the world challenges us, and seek to force our\nway by means little more commendable than the injustice and coldness we\nourselves resent. Joseph gives the first great evidence of moral\nstrength by rising superior to this temptation, to which almost all men\nin one degree or other succumb. You can hear him saying, deep down in\nhis heart and almost unconsciously to himself: If the world is full of\nhatred, there is all the more need that at least one man should forgive\nand love; if men's hearts are black with selfishness, ambition, and\nlust, all the more reason for me to be pure and to do my best for all\nwhom my service can reach; if cruelty, lying, and fraud meet me at every\nstep, all the more am I called to conquer these by integrity and\nguilelessness.\n\nHis capacity, then, and power of governing others, were no longer dreams\nof his own, but qualities with which he was accredited by those who\njudged dispassionately and from the bare actual results. But this\nrecognition and promotion brought with it serious temptation. So capable\na person was he that a year or two had brought him to the highest post\nhe could expect as a slave. His advancement, therefore, only brought his\nactual attainment into more painful contrast with the attainment of his\ndreams. As this sense of disappointment becomes more familiar to his\nheart, and threatens, under the monotonous routine of his household\nwork, to deepen into a habit, there suddenly opens to him a new and\nunthought-of path to high position. An intrigue with Potiphar's wife\nmight lead to the very advancement he sought. It might lift him out of\nthe condition of a slave. It may have been known to him that other men\nhad not scrupled so to promote their own interests. Besides, Joseph was\nyoung, and a nature like his, lively and sympathetic, must have felt\ndeeply that in his position he was not likely to meet such a woman as\ncould command his cordial love. That the temptation was in any degree to\nthe sensual side of his nature there is no evidence whatever. For all\nthat the narrative says, Potiphar's wife may not have been attractive in\nperson. She _may_ have been; and as she used persistently, \"day by day,\"\nevery art and wile by which she could lure Joseph to her mind, in some\nof his moods and under such circumstances as she would study to arrange\nhe may have felt even this element of the temptation. But it is too\nlittle observed, and especially by young men who have most need to\nobserve it, that in such temptations it is not only what is sensual that\nneeds to be guarded against, but also two much deeper-lying\ntendencies--the craving for loving recognition, and the desire to\nrespond to the feminine love for admiration and devotion. The latter\ntendency may not seem dangerous, but I am sure that if an analysis could\nbe made of the broken hearts and shame-crushed lives around us, it would\nbe found that a large proportion of misery is due to a kind of\nuncontrolled and mistaken chivalry. Men of masculine make are prone to\nshow their regard for women. This regard, when genuine and manly, will\nshow itself in purity of sympathy and respectful attention. But when\nthis regard is debased by a desire to please and ingratiate oneself, men\nare precipitated into the unseemly expressions of a spurious manhood.\nThe other craving--the craving for love--acts also in a somewhat latent\nway. It is this craving which drives men to seek to satisfy themselves\nwith the expressions of love, as if thus they could secure love itself.\nThey do not distinguish between the two; they do not recognise that what\nthey most deeply desire is love, rather than the expression of it; and\nthey awake to find that precisely in so far as they have accepted the\nexpression without the sentiment, in so far have they put love itself\nbeyond their reach.\n\nThis temptation was, in Joseph's case, aggravated by his being in a\nforeign country, unrestrained by the expectations of his own family, or\nby the eye of those he loved. He had, however, that which restrained\nhim, and made the sin seem to him an impossible wickedness, the thought\nof which he could not, for a moment, entertain. \"Behold, my master\nwotteth not what is with me in the house, and he hath committed all that\nhe hath to my hand; there is none greater in this house than I; neither\nhath he kept back anything from me but thee, because thou art his wife:\nhow then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?\" Gratitude\nto the man who had pitied him in the slave market, and shown a generous\nconfidence in a comparative stranger, was, with Joseph, a stronger\nsentiment than any that Potiphar's wife could stir in him. One can well\nbelieve it. We know what enthusiastic devotedness a young man of any\nworth delights to give to his superior who has treated him with justice,\ngenerosity, and confidence; who himself occupies a station of importance\nin public life; and who, by a dignified graciousness of demeanour, can\nmake even the slave feel that he too is a man, and that through his\nslave's dress his proper manhood and worth are recognised. There are few\nstronger sentiments than the enthusiasm or quiet fidelity that can thus\nbe kindled, and the influence such a superior wields over the young\nmind is paramount. To disregard the rights of his master seemed to\nJoseph a great wickedness and sin against God. The treachery of the sin\nstrikes him; his native discernment of the true rights of every party in\nthe case cannot, for a moment, be hoodwinked. He is not a man who can,\neven in the excitement of temptation, overlook the consequences his sin\nmay have on others. Not unsteadied by the flattering solicitations of\none so much above him in rank, nor sullied by the contagion of her\nvehement passion; neither afraid to incur the resentment of one who so\nregarded him, nor kindled to any impure desire by contact with her\nblazing lust; neither scrupling thoroughly to disappoint her in himself,\nnor to make her feel her own great guilt, he flung from him the strong\ninducements that seemed to net him round and entangle him as his garment\ndid, and tore himself, shocked and grieved, from the beseeching hand of\nhis temptress.\n\nThe incident is related not because it was the most violent temptation\nto which Joseph was ever exposed, but because it formed a necessary link\nin the chain of circumstances that brought him before Pharaoh. And\nhowever strong this temptation may have been, more men would be found\nwho could thus have spoken to Potiphar's wife than who could have kept\nsilence when accused by Potiphar. For his purity you will find his\nequal, one among a thousand; for his mercy scarcely one. For there is\nnothing more intensely trying than to live under false and painful\naccusations, which totally misrepresent and damage your character; which\neffectually bar your advancement, and which yet you have it in your\npower to disprove. Joseph, feeling his indebtedness to Potiphar,\ncontents himself with the simple averment that he himself is innocent.\nThe word is on his tongue that can put a very different face on the\nmatter, but rather than utter that word, Joseph will suffer the stroke\nthat otherwise must fall on his master's honour; will pass from his high\nplace and office of trust, through the jeering or possibly\ncompassionating slaves, branded as one who has betrayed the frankest\nconfidence, and is fitter for the dungeon than the stewardship of\nPotiphar. He is content to lie under the cruel suspicion that he had in\nthe foulest way wronged the man whom most he should have regarded, and\nwhom in point of fact he did enthusiastically serve. There was one man\nin Egypt whose good-will he prized, and this man now scorned and\ncondemned him, and this for the very act by which Joseph had proved most\nfaithful and deserving.\n\nAnd even after a long imprisonment, when he had now no reputation to\nmaintain, and when such a little bit of court scandal as he could have\nretailed would have been highly palatable and possibly useful to some of\nthose polished ruffians and adventurers who made their dungeon ring with\nquestionable tales, and with whom the free and levelling intercourse of\nprison life had put him on the most familiar footing, and when they\ntwitted and taunted him with his supposed crime, and gave him the prison\nsobriquet that would most pungently embody his villainy and failure, and\nwhen it might plausibly have been pleaded by himself that such a woman\nshould be exposed, Joseph uttered no word of recrimination, but quietly\nendured, knowing that God's providence could allow him to be merciful;\nprotesting, when needful, that he himself was innocent, but seeking to\nentangle no one else in his misfortune.\n\nIt is this that has made the world seem so terrible a place to\nmany--that the innocent must so often suffer for the guilty, and that,\nwithout appeal, the pure and loving must lie in chains and bitterness,\nwhile the wicked live and see good days. It is this that has made men\nmost despairingly question whether there be indeed a God in heaven Who\nknows who the real culprit is, and yet suffers a terrible doom slowly to\nclose around the innocent; Who sees where the guilt lies, and yet moves\nno finger nor speaks the word that would bring justice to light, shaming\nthe secure triumph of the wrongdoer, and saving the bleeding spirit from\nits agony. It was this that came as the last stroke of the passion of\nour Lord, that He was numbered among the transgressors; it was this that\ncaused or materially increased the feeling that God had deserted Him;\nand it was this that wrung from Him the cry which once was wrung from\nDavid, and may well have been wrung from Joseph, when, cast into the\ndungeon as a mean and treacherous villain, whose freedom was the peril\nof domestic peace and honour, he found himself again helpless and\nforlorn, regarded now not as a mere worthless lad, but as a criminal of\nthe lowest type. And as there always recur cases in which exculpation is\nimpossible just in proportion as the party accused is possessed of\nhonourable feeling, and where silent acceptance of doom is the result\nnot of convicted guilt, but of the very triumph of self-sacrifice, we\nmust beware of over-suspicion and injustice. There is nothing in which\nwe are more frequently mistaken than in our suspicions and harsh\njudgments of others.\n\n\"But the Lord was with Joseph, and allowed him mercy, and gave him\nfavour in the sight of the keeper of the prison.\" As in Potiphar's\nhouse, so in the king's house of detention, Joseph's fidelity and\nserviceableness made him seem indispensable, and by sheer force of\ncharacter he occupied the place rather of governor than of prisoner. The\ndiscerning men he had to do with, accustomed to deal with criminals and\nsuspects of all shades, very quickly perceived that in Joseph's case\njustice was at fault, and that he was a mere scape-goat. Well might\nPotiphar's wife, like Pilate's, have had warning dreams regarding the\ninnocent person who was being condemned; and probably Potiphar himself\nhad suspicion enough of the true state of matters to prevent him from\ngoing to extremities with Joseph, and so to imprison him more out of\ndeference to the opinion of his household, and for the sake of\nappearances, than because Joseph alone was the object of his anger. At\nany rate, such was the vitality of Joseph's confidence in God, and such\nwas the light-heartedness that sprang from his integrity of conscience,\nthat he was free from all absorbing anxiety about himself, and had\nleisure to amuse and help his fellow-prisoners, so that such promotion\nas a gaol could afford he won, from a dungeon to a chain, from a chain\nto his word of honour. Thus even in the unlatticed dungeon the sun and\nmoon look in upon him and bow to him; and while his sheaf seems at its\npoorest, all rust and mildew, the sheaves of his masters do homage.\n\nAfter the arrival of two such notable criminals as the chief butler and\nbaker of Pharaoh--the chamberlain and steward of the royal\nhousehold--Joseph, if sometimes pensive, must yet have had sufficient\nentertainment at times in conversing with men who stood by the king, and\nwere familiar with the statesmen, courtiers, and military men who\nfrequented the house of Potiphar. He had now ample opportunity for\nacquiring information which afterwards stood him in good stead, for\napprehending the character of Pharaoh, and for making himself\nacquainted with many details of his government, and with the general\ncondition of the people. Officials in disgrace would be found much more\naccessible and much more communicative of important information than\nofficials in court favour could have been to one in Joseph's position.\n\nIt is not surprising that three nights before Pharaoh's birthday these\nfunctionaries of the court should have recalled in sleep such scenes as\nthat day was wont to bring round, nor that they should vividly have seen\nthe parts they themselves used to play in the festival. Neither is it\nsurprising that they should have had very anxious thoughts regarding\ntheir own fate on a day which was chosen for deciding the fate of\npolitical or courtly offenders. But it is remarkable that they having\ndreamed these dreams Joseph should have been found willing to interpret\nthem. One desires some evidence of Joseph's attitude towards God during\nthis period when God's attitude towards him might seem doubtful, and\nespecially one would like to know what Joseph by this time thought of\nhis juvenile dreams, and whether in the prison his face wore the same\nbeaming confidence in his own future which had smitten the hearts of his\nbrothers with impatient envy of the dreamer. We seek some evidence, and\nhere we find it. Joseph's willingness to interpret the dreams of his\nfellow-prisoners proves that he still believed in his own, that among\nhis other qualities he had this characteristic also of a steadfast and\nprofound soul, that he \"reverenced as a man the dreams of his youth.\"\nHad he not done so, and had he not yet hoped that somehow God would\nbring truth out of them, he would surely have said: Don't you believe in\ndreams; they will only get you into difficulties. He would have said\nwhat some of us could dictate from our own thoughts: I won't meddle\nwith dreams any more; I am not so young as I once was; doctrines and\nprinciples that served for fervent romantic youth seem puerile now, when\nI have learned what human life actually is; I can't ask this man, who\nknows the world and has held the cup for Pharaoh, and is aware what a\npractical shape the king's anger takes, to cherish hopes similar to\nthose which often seem so remote and doubtful to myself. My religion has\nbrought me into trouble: it has lost me my situation, it has kept me\npoor, it has made me despised, it has debarred me from enjoyment. Can I\nask this man to trust to inward whisperings which seem to have so misled\nme? No, no; let every man bear his own burden. If he wishes to become\nreligious, let not me bear the responsibility. If he will dream, let him\nfind some other interpreter.\n\nThis casual conversation, then, with his fellow-prisoners was for Joseph\none of those perilous moments when a man holds his fate in his hand, and\nyet does not know that he is specially on trial, but has for his\nguidance and safe-conduct through the hazard only the ordinary\nsafeguards and lights by the aid of which he is framing his daily life.\nA man cannot be forewarned of trial, if the trial is to be a fair test\nof his habitual life. He must not be called to the lists by the herald's\ntrumpet warning him to mind his seat and grasp his weapon; but must be\nsuddenly set upon if his habit of steadiness and balance is to be\ntested, and the warrior-instinct to which the right weapon is ever at\nhand. As Joseph, going the round of his morning duty and spreading what\nmight stir the appetite of these dainty courtiers, noted the gloom on\ntheir faces, had he not been of a nature to take upon himself the\nsorrows of others, he might have been glad to escape from their\npresence, fearful lest he should be infected by their depression, or\nshould become an object on which they might vent their ill-humour. But\nhe was girt with a healthy cheerfulness that could bear more than his\nown burden; and his pondering of his own experience made him sensitive\nto all that affected the destinies of other men.\n\nThus Joseph in becoming the interpreter of the dreams of other men\nbecame the fulfiller of his own. Had he made light of the dreams of his\nfellow-prisoners because he had already made light of his own, he would,\nfor aught we can see, have died in the dungeon. And, indeed, what hope\nis left for a man, and what deliverance is possible, when he makes light\nof his own most sacred experience, and doubts whether after all there\nwas any Divine voice in that part of his life which once he felt to be\nfull of significance? Sadness, cynical worldliness, irritability, sour\nand isolating selfishness, rapid deterioration in every part of the\ncharacter--these are the results which follow our repudiation of past\nexperience and denial of truth that once animated and purified us; when,\nat least, this repudiation and denial are not themselves the results of\nour advance to a higher, more animating, and more purifying truth. We\ncannot but leave behind us many \"childish things,\" beliefs that we now\nrecognise as mere superstitions, hopes and fears which do not move the\nmaturer mind; we cannot but seek always to be stripping ourselves of\nmodes of thinking which have served their purpose and are out of date,\nbut we do so only for the sake of attaining freer movement in all\nserviceable and righteous conduct, and more adequate covering for the\npermanent weaknesses of our own nature--\"not for that we would be\nunclothed, but clothed upon,\" that truth partial and dawning may be\nswallowed up in the perfect light of noon. And when a supposed advance\nin the knowledge of things spiritual robs us of all that sustains true\nspiritual life in us, and begets an angry contempt of our own past\nexperience and a proud scorning of the dreams that agitate other men;\nwhen it ministers not at all to the growth in us of what is tender and\npure and loving and progressive, but hardens us to a sullen or coarsely\nriotous or coldly calculating character, we cannot but question whether\nit is not a delusion rather than a truth that has taken possession of\nus.\n\nIf it is fanciful, it is yet almost inevitable, to compare Joseph at\nthis stage of his career to the great Interpreter who stands between God\nand us, and makes all His signs intelligible. Those Egyptians could not\nforbear honouring Joseph, who was able to solve to them the mysteries on\nthe borders of which the Egyptian mind continually hovered, and which it\nsymbolized by its mysterious sphinxes, its strange chambers of imagery,\nits unapproachable divinities. And we bow before the Lord Jesus Christ,\nbecause He can read our fate and unriddle all our dim anticipations of\ngood and evil, and make intelligible to us the visions of our own\nhearts. There is that in us, as in these men, from which a skilled eye\ncould already read our destiny. In the eye of One who sees the end from\nthe beginning, and can distinguish between the determining influences of\ncharacter and the insignificant manifestations of a passing mood, we are\nalready designed to our eternal places. And it is in Christ alone your\nfuture is explained. You cannot understand your future without taking\nHim into your confidence. You go forward blindly to meet you know not\nwhat, unless you listen to His interpretation of the vague presentiments\nthat visit you. Without Him what can we make of those suspicions of a\nfuture judgment, or of those yearnings after God, that hang about our\nhearts? Without Him what can we make of the idea and hope of a better\nlife than we are now living, or of the strange persuasion that all will\nyet be well--a persuasion that seems so groundless, and which yet will\nnot be shaken off, but finds its explanation in Christ? The excess of\nside light that falls across our path from the present seems only to\nmake the future more obscure and doubtful, and from Him alone do we\nreceive any interpretation of ourselves that even seems to be\nsatisfying. Our fellow-prisoners are often seen to be so absorbed in\ntheir own affairs that it is vain to seek light from them; but He, with\npatient, self-forgetting friendliness, is ever disengaged, and even\nelicits, by the kindly and interrogating attitude He takes towards us,\nthe utterance of all our woes and perplexities. And it is because He has\nhad dreams Himself that He has become so skilled an interpreter of ours.\nIt is because in His own life He had His mind hard pressed for a\nsolution of those very problems which baffle us, because He had for\nHimself to adjust God's promise to the ordinary and apparently casual\nand untoward incidents of a human life, and because He had to wait long\nbefore it became quite clear how one Scripture after another was to be\nfulfilled by a course of simple confiding obedience--it is because of\nthis experience of His own, that He can now enter into and rightly guide\nto its goal every longing we cherish.\n\n\n\n\nXXVII.\n\n_PHARAOH'S DREAMS._\n\nGENESIS xli.\n\n    \"Thus saith the Lord, that frustrateth the tokens of the liars, and\n    maketh diviners mad; that confirmeth the word of His servant, and\n    performeth the counsel of His messengers: that saith of Cyrus, He is\n    My shepherd, and shall perform all My pleasure.\"--ISA. xliv. 25, 28.\n\n\nThe preceding act in this great drama--the act comprising the scenes of\nJoseph's temptation, unjust imprisonment, and interpretation of his\nfellow-prisoners' dreams--was written for the sake of explaining how\nJoseph came to be introduced to Pharaoh. Other friendships may have been\nformed in the prison, and other threads may have been spun which went to\nmake up the life of Joseph, but this only is pursued. For a time,\nhowever, there seemed very little prospect that this would prove to be\nthe thread on which his destiny hung. Joseph made a touching appeal to\nthe Chief Butler: \"yet did not the Chief Butler remember Joseph, but\nforgat him.\" You can see him in the joy of his release affectionately\npressing Joseph's hand as the king's messengers knocked off his fetters.\nYou can see him assuring Joseph, by his farewell look, that he might\ntrust him; mistaking mere elation at his own release for warmth of\nfeeling towards Joseph, though perhaps even already feeling just the\nslightest touch of awkwardness at being seen on such intimate terms\nwith a Hebrew slave. How could he, when in the palace of Pharaoh and\ndecorated with the insignia of his office and surrounded by courtiers,\nbreak through the formal etiquette of the place? What with the pleasant\ncongratulations of old friends, and the accumulation of business since\nhe had been imprisoned, and the excitement of restoration from so low\nand hopeless to so high and busy a position, the promise to Joseph is\nobliterated from his mind. If it once or twice recurs to his memory, he\npersuades himself he is waiting for a good opening to mention Joseph. It\nwould perhaps be unwarrantable to say that he admits the idea that he is\nin no way indebted to Joseph, since all that Joseph had done was to\ninterpret, but by no means to determine, his fate.\n\nThe analogy which we could not help seeing between Joseph's relation to\nhis fellow-prisoners, and our Lord's relation to us, pursues us here.\nFor does not the bond between us and Him seem often very slender, when\nonce we have received from Him the knowledge of the King's good-will,\nand find ourselves set in a place of security? Is not Christ with many a\nmere stepping-stone for their own advancement, and of interest only so\nlong as they are in anxiety about their own fate? Their regard for Him\nseems abruptly to terminate as soon as they are ushered to freer air.\nBrought for a while into contact with Him, the very peace and prosperity\nwhich that intercourse has introduced them to become opiates to dull\ntheir memory and their gratitude. They have received all they at present\ndesire, they have no more dreams, their life has become so plain and\nsimple and glad that they need no interpreter. They seem to regard Him\nno more than an official is regarded who is set to discharge to all\ncomers some duty for which he is paid; who mingles no love with his\nwork, and from whom they would receive the same benefits whether he had\nany personal interest in them or no. But there is no Christianity where\nthere is no loving remembrance of Christ. If your contact with Him has\nnot made Him your Friend whom you can by no possibility forget, you have\nmissed the best result of your introduction to Him. It makes one think\nmeanly of the Chief Butler that such a personality as Joseph's had not\nmore deeply impressed him--that everything he heard and saw among the\ncourtiers did not make him say to himself: There is a friend of mine, in\nprison hard by, that for beauty, wisdom, and vivacity would more than\nmatch the finest of you all. And it says very little for us if we can\nhave known anything of Christ without seeing that in Him we have what is\nnowhere else, and without finding that He has become the necessity of\nour life to whom we turn at every point.\n\nBut, as things turned out, it was perhaps as well for Joseph that his\npromising friend did forget him. For, supposing the Chief Butler had\novercome his natural reluctance to increase his own indebtedness to\nPharaoh by interceding for a friend, supposing he had been willing to\nrisk the friendship of the Captain of the Guard by interfering in so\ndelicate a matter, and supposing Pharaoh had been willing to listen to\nhim, what would have been the result? Probably that Joseph would have\nbeen sold away to the quarries, for certainly he could not have been\nrestored to Potiphar's house; or, at the most, he might have received\nhis liberty, and a free pass out of Egypt. That is to say, he would have\nobtained liberty to return to sheep-shearing and cattle-dealing and\ncheckmating his brother's plots. In any probable case his career would\nhave tended rather towards obscurity than towards the fulfilment of his\ndreams.\n\nThere seems equal reason to congratulate Joseph on his friend's\nforgetfulness, when we consider its probable effects, not on his career,\nbut on his character. When he was left in prison after so sudden and\nexciting an incursion of the outer world as the king's messengers would\nmake, his mind must have run chiefly in two lines of thought. Naturally\nhe would feel some envy of the man who was being restored; and when day\nafter day passed and more than the former monotony of prison routine\npalled on his spirit; when he found how completely he was forgotten, and\nhow friendless and lone a creature he was in that strange land where\nthings had gone so mysteriously against him; when he saw before him no\nother fate than that which he had seen befall so many a slave thrown\ninto a dungeon at his master's pleasure and never more heard of, he must\nhave been sorely tempted to hate the whole world, and especially those\nbrethren who had been the beginning of all his misfortunes. Had there\nbeen any selfishness in solution in Joseph's character, this is the\npoint at which it would have quickly crystallized into permanent forms.\nFor nothing more certainly elicits and confirms selfishness than bad\ntreatment. But from his conduct on his release, we see clearly enough\nthat through all this trying time his heroism was not only that of the\nstrong man who vows that though the whole world is against him the day\nwill come when the world shall have need of him, but of the saint of God\nin whom suffering and injustice leave no bitterness against his fellows,\nnor even provoke one slightest morbid utterance.\n\nBut another process must have been going on in Joseph's mind at the\nsame time. He must have felt that it was a very serious thing that he\nhad been called upon to do in interpreting God's will to his\nfellow-prisoners. No doubt he fell into it quite naturally and aptly,\nbecause it was liker his proper vocation, and more of his character\ncould come out in it than in anything he had yet done. Still, to be\nmixed up thus with matters of life and death concerning other people,\nand to have men of practical ability and experience and high position\nlistening to him as to an oracle, and to find that in very truth a great\npower was committed to him, was calculated to have _some_ considerable\nresult one way or other on Joseph. And these two years of unrelieved and\nsobering obscurity cannot but be considered most opportune. For one of\ntwo things is apt to follow the world's first recognition of a man's\ngifts. He is either induced to pander to the world's wonder and become\nartificial and strained in all he does, so losing the spontaneity and\nnaturalness and sincerity which characterise the best work; or he is\nawed and steadied. And whether the one or the other result follow, will\ndepend very much on the other things that are happening to him. In\nJoseph's case it was probably well that after having made proof of his\npowers he was left in such circumstances as would not only give him time\nfor reflection, but also give a humble and believing turn to his\nreflections. He was not at once exalted to the priestly caste, nor\nenrolled among the wise men, nor put in any position in which he would\nhave been under constant temptation to display and trifle with his\npower; and so he was led to the conviction that deeper even than the joy\nof receiving the recognition and gratitude of men was the abiding\nsatisfaction of having done the thing God had given him to do.\n\nThese two years, then, during which Joseph's active mind must\nnecessarily have been forced to provide food for itself, and have been\nthrown back upon his past experience, seem to have been of eminent\nservice in maturing his character. The self-possessed dignity and ease\nof command which appear in him from the moment when he is ushered into\nPharaoh's presence have their roots in these two years of silence. As\nthe bones of a strong man are slowly, imperceptibly knit, and gradually\ntake the shape and texture they retain throughout; so during these years\nthere was silently and secretly consolidating a character of almost\nunparalleled calmness and power. One has no words to express how\ntantalizing it must have been to Joseph to see this Egyptian have his\ndreams so gladly and speedily fulfilled, while he himself, who had so\nlong waited on the true God, was left waiting still, and now so utterly\nunbefriended that there seemed no possible way of ever again connecting\nhimself with the world outside the prison walls. Being pressed thus for\nan answer to the question, What does God mean to make of my life? he was\nbrought to see and to hold as the most important truth for him, that the\nfirst concern is, that God's purposes be accomplished; the second, that\nhis own dreams be fulfilled. He was enabled, as we shall see in the\nsequel, to put God truly in the first place, and to see that by\nforwarding the interests of other men, even though they were but\nlight-minded chief butlers at a foreign court, he might be as\nserviceably furthering the purposes of God, as if he were forwarding his\nown interests. He was compelled to seek for some principle that would\nsustain and guide him in the midst of much disappointment and\nperplexity, and he found it in the conviction that the essential thing\nto be accomplished in this world, and to which every man must lay his\nshoulder, is God's purpose. Let that go on, and all else that should go\non will go on. And he further saw that he best fulfils God's purpose\nwho, without anxiety and impatience, does the duty of the day, and gives\nhimself without stint to the \"charities that soothe and heal and bless.\"\n\nHis perception of the breadth of God's purpose, and his profound and\nsympathetic and active submission to it, were qualities too rare not to\nbe called into influential exercise. After two years he is suddenly\nsummoned to become God's interpreter to Pharaoh. The Egyptian king was\nin the unhappy though not uncommon position of having a revelation from\nGod which he could not read, intimations and presentiments he could not\ninterpret. To one man is given the revelation, to another the\ninterpretation. The official dignity of the king is respected, and to\nhim is given the revelation which concerns the welfare of the whole\npeople. But to read God's meaning in a revelation requires a spiritual\nintelligence trained to sympathy with His purposes, and such a spirit\nwas found in Joseph alone.\n\nThe dreams of Pharaoh were thoroughly Egyptian. The marvel is, that a\nsymbolism so familiar to the Egyptian eye should not have been easily\nlegible to even the most slenderly gifted of Pharaoh's wise men. \"In my\ndream,\" says the king, \"behold, I stood upon the bank of the river: and,\nbehold, there came up out of the river seven kine,\" and so on. Every\nland or city is proud of its river, but none has such cause to be so as\nEgypt of its Nile. The country is accurately as well as poetically\ncalled \"the gift of Nile.\" Out of the river do really come good or bad\nyears, fat or lean kine. Wholly dependent on its annual rise and\noverflow for the irrigating and enriching of the soil, the people\nworship it and love it, and at the season of its overflow give way to\nthe most rapturous expressions of joy. The cow also was reverenced as\nthe symbol of the earth's productive power. If then, as Joseph avers,\nGod wished to show to Pharaoh that seven years of plenty were\napproaching, this announcement could hardly have been made plainer in\nthe language of dreams than by showing to Pharaoh seven well-favoured\nkine coming up out of the bountiful river to feed on the meadow made\nrichly green by its waters. If the king had been sacrificing to the\nriver, such a sight, familiar as it was to the dwellers by the Nile,\nmight well have been accepted by him as a promise of plenty in the land.\nBut what agitated Pharaoh, and gave him the shuddering presentiment of\nevil which accompanies some dreams, was the sequel. \"Behold, seven other\nkine came up after them, poor and very ill-favoured and lean-fleshed,\nsuch as I never saw in all the land of Egypt for badness: and the lean\nand the ill-favoured kine did eat up the first seven fat kine: and when\nthey had eaten them up it could not be known that they had eaten them;\nbut they were still ill-favoured, as at the beginning,\"--a picture which\nto the inspired dream-reader represented seven years of famine so\ngrievous, that the preceding plenty should be swallowed up and not be\nknown. A similar image occurred to a writer who, in describing a more\nrecent famine in the same land, says: \"The year presented itself as a\nmonster whose wrath must annihilate all the resources of life and all\nthe means of subsistence.\"\n\nIt tells in favour of the court magicians and wise men that not one of\nthem offered an interpretation of dreams to which it would certainly not\nhave been difficult to attach some tolerably feasible interpretation.\nProbably these men were as yet sincere devotees of astrology and occult\nscience, and not the mere jugglers and charlatans their successors seem\nto have become. When men cannot make out the purpose of God regarding\nthe future of the race, it is not wonderful that they should endeavour\nto catch the faintest, most broken echo of His voice to the world,\nwherever they can find it. Now there is a wide region, a borderland\nbetween the two worlds of spirit and of matter, in which are found a\ngreat many mysterious phenomena which cannot be explained by any known\nlaws of nature, and through which men fancy they get nearer to the\nspiritual world. There are many singular and startling appearances,\ncoincidences, forebodings, premonitions which men have always been\nattracted towards, and which they have considered as open ways of\ncommunication between God and man. There are dreams, visions, strange\napprehensions, freaks of memory, and other mental phenomena, which, when\nall classed together, assorted, and skilfully applied to the reading of\nthe future, once formed quite a science by itself. When men have no word\nfrom God to depend upon, no knowledge at all of where either the race or\nindividuals are going to, they will eagerly grasp at anything that even\nseems to shed a ray of light on their future. We for the most part make\nlight of that whole category of phenomena, because we have a more sure\nword of prophecy by which, as with a light in a dark place, we can tell\nwhere our next step should be, and what the end shall be. But invariably\nin heathen countries, where no guiding Spirit of God was believed in,\nand where the absence of His revealed will left numberless points of\nduty doubtful and all the future dark, there existed in lieu of this a\nclass of persons who, under one name or other, undertook to satisfy the\ncraving of men to see into the future, to forewarn them of danger, and\nadvise them regarding matters of conduct and affairs of state.\n\nAt various points of the history of God's revelation these professors of\noccult science appear. In each case a profound impression is made by the\nsuperior wisdom or power displayed by the \"wise men\" of God. But in\nreading the accounts we have of these collisions between the wisdom of\nGod and that of the magicians, a slight feeling of uneasiness sometimes\nenters the mind. You may feel that these wonders of Joseph, Moses, and\nDaniel have a romantic air about them, and you feel, perhaps, a slight\nscruple in granting that God would lend Himself to such\ndisplays--displays so completely out of date in our day. But we are to\nconsider not only that there is nothing of the kind more certain than\nthat dreams do sometimes even now impart most significant warning to\nmen; but, also, that the time in which Joseph lived was the childhood of\nthe world, when God had neither spoken much to men, nor could speak\nmuch, because as yet they had not learned His language, but were only\nbeing slowly taught it by signs suited to their capacity. If these men\nwere to receive any knowledge beyond what their own unaided efforts\ncould attain, they must be taught in a language they understood. They\ncould not be dealt with as if they had already attained a knowledge and\na capacity which could only be theirs many centuries after; they must be\ndealt with by signs and wonders which had perhaps little moral teaching\nin them, but yet gave evidence of God's nearness and power such as they\ncould and did understand. God thus stretched out His hand to men in the\ndarkness, and let them feel His strength before they could look on His\nface and understand His nature.\n\nIt is the existence at the court of Pharaoh of this highly respected\nclass of dream-interpreters and wise men, which lends significance to\nthe conduct of Joseph when summoned into the royal presence. Such wisdom\nas he displayed in reading Pharaoh's visions was looked upon as\nattainable by means within the reach of any man who had sufficient\nfaculty for the science. And the first idea in the minds of the\ncourtiers would probably have been, had Joseph not solemnly protested\nagainst it, that he was an adept where they were apprentices and\nbunglers, and that his success was due purely to professional skill.\nThis was of course perfectly well known to Joseph, who for a number of\nyears had been familiar with the ideas prevalent at the court of\nPharaoh; and he might have argued that there could be no great harm in\nat least effecting his deliverance from an unjust imprisonment by\nallowing Pharaoh to suppose that it was to him he was indebted for the\ninterpretation of his dreams. But his first word to Pharaoh is a\nself-renouncing exclamation: \"Not in me: _God_ shall give Pharaoh an\nanswer of peace.\" Two years had elapsed since anything had occurred\nwhich looked the least like the fulfilment of his own dreams, or gave\nhim any hope of release from prison; and now, when measuring himself\nwith these courtiers and feeling able to take his place with the best of\nthem, getting again a breath of free air and feeling once more the charm\nof life, and having an opening set before his young ambition, being so\nsuddenly transferred from a place where his very existence seemed to be\nforgotten to a place where Pharaoh himself and all his court eyed him\nwith the intensest interest and anxiety, it is significant that he\nshould appear regardless of his own fate, but jealously careful of the\nglory of God. Considering how jealous men commonly are of their own\nreputation, and how impatiently eager to receive all the credit that is\ndue to them for their own share in any good that is doing, and\nconsidering of what essential importance it seemed that Joseph should\nseize this opportunity of providing for his own safety and advancement,\nand should use this as the tide in his affairs that led to fortune, his\nwords and bearing before Pharaoh undoubtedly disclose a deeply\nin-wrought fidelity to God, and a magnanimous patience regarding his own\npersonal interests.\n\nFor it is extremely unlikely that in proposing to Pharaoh to set a man\nover this important business of collecting corn to last through the\nyears of famine, it presented itself to Joseph as a conceivable result\nthat he should be the person appointed--he a Hebrew, a slave, a\nprisoner, cleaned but for the nonce, could not suppose that Pharaoh\nwould pass over all those tried officers and ministers of state around\nhim and fix upon a youth who was wholly untried, and who might, by his\ndifferent race and religion, prove obnoxious to the people. Joseph may\nhave expected to make interest enough with Pharaoh to secure his\nfreedom, and possibly some subordinate berth where he could hopefully\nbegin the world again; but his only allusion to himself is of a\ndepreciatory kind, while his reference to God is marked with a profound\nconviction that this is God's doing, and that to Him is due whatever is\ndue. Well may the Hebrew race be proud of those men like Joseph and\nDaniel, who stood in the presence of foreign monarchs in a spirit of\nperfect fidelity to God, commanding the respect of all, and clothed with\nthe dignity and simplicity which that fidelity imparted. It matters not\nto Joseph that there may perhaps be none in that land who can appreciate\nhis fidelity to God or understand his motive. It matters not what he may\nlose by it, or what he could gain by falling in with the notions of\nthose around him. He himself knows the real state of the case, and will\nnot act untruly to his God, even though for years he seems to have been\nforgotten by Him. With Daniel he says in spirit, \"Let thy gifts be to\nthyself, and give thy rewards to another. As for me, this secret is not\nrevealed to me for any wisdom that I have more than any living, but that\nthe interpretation may be known to the king, and that thou mayest know\nthe thoughts of thine heart. He that revealeth secrets maketh known to\nthee what shall come to pass.\" There is something particularly noble and\nworthy of admiration in a man thus standing alone and maintaining the\nfullest allegiance to God, without ostentation, and with a quiet dignity\nand naturalness that show he has a great fund of strength behind.\n\nThat we do not misjudge Joseph's character or ascribe to him qualities\nwhich were invisible to his contemporaries, is apparent from the\ncircumstance that Pharaoh and his advisers, with little or no\nhesitation, agreed that to no man could they more safely entrust their\ncountry in this emergency. The mere personal charm of Joseph might have\nwon over those experienced advisers of the crown to make compensation\nfor his imprisonment by an unusually handsome reward, but no mere\nattractiveness of person and manner, nor even the unquestionable\nguilelessness of his bearing, could have induced them to put such an\naffair as this into his hands. Plainly they were impressed with Joseph;\nalmost supernaturally impressed, and felt God through him. He stood\nbefore them as one mysteriously appearing in their emergency, sent out\nof unthought-of quarters to warn and save them. Happily there was as yet\nno jealousy of the God of the Hebrews, nor any exclusiveness on the part\nof the chosen people: Pharaoh and Joseph alike felt that there was one\nGod over all and through all. And it was Joseph's self-abnegating\nsympathy with the purposes of this Supreme God that made him a\ntransparent medium, so that in his presence the Egyptians felt\nthemselves in the presence of God. It is so always. Influence in the\nlong run belongs to those who rid their minds of all private aims, and\nget close to the great centre in which all the race meets and is cared\nfor. Men feel themselves safe with the unselfish, with persons in whom\nthey meet principle, justice, truth, love, God. We are unattractive,\nuseless, uninfluential, just because we are still childishly craving a\nprivate and selfish good. We know that a life which does not pour itself\nfreely into the common stream of public good is lost in dry and sterile\nsands. We know that a life spent upon self is contemptible, barren,\nempty, yet how slowly do we come to the attitude of Joseph, who watched\nfor the fulfilment of God's purposes, and found his happiness in\nforwarding what God designed for the people.\n\n\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\n_JOSEPH'S ADMINISTRATION._\n\nGEN. xli. 37-57, and xlvii. 13-26.\n\n    \"He made him lord of his house, and ruler of all his substance: To\n    bind his princes at his pleasure; and teach his senators\n    wisdom.\"--PSALM. cv. 21, 22.\n\n\n\"Many a monument consecrated to the memory of some nobleman gone to his\nlong home, who during life had held high rank at the court of Pharaoh,\nis decorated with the simple but laudatory inscription, 'His ancestors\nwere unknown people'\"--so we are told by our most accurate informant\nregarding Egyptian affairs. Indeed, the tales we read of adventurers in\nthe East, and the histories which recount how some dynasties have been\nfounded, are sufficient evidence that, in other countries besides Egypt,\nsudden elevation from the lowest to the highest rank is not so unusual\nas amongst ourselves. Historians have recently made out that in one\nperiod of the history of Egypt there are traces of a kind of Semitic\nmania, a strong leaning towards Syrian and Arabian customs, phrases, and\npersons. Such manias have occurred in most countries. There was a period\nin the history of Rome when everything that had a Greek flavour was\nadmired; an Anglo-mania once affected a portion of the French\npopulation, and reciprocally, French manners and ideas have at times\nfound a welcome among ourselves. It is also clear that for a time Lower\nEgypt was under the dominion of foreign rulers who were in race more\nnearly allied to Joseph than to the native population. But there is no\nneed that so complicated a question as the exact date of this foreign\ndomination be debated here, for there was that in Joseph's bearing which\nwould have commended him to any sagacious monarch. Not only did the\ncourt accept him as a messenger from God, but they could not fail to\nrecognise substantial and serviceable human qualities alongside of what\nwas mysterious in him. The ready apprehension with which he appreciated\nthe magnitude of the danger, the clear-sighted promptitude with which he\nmet it, the resource and quiet capacity with which he handled a matter\ninvolving the entire condition of Egypt, showed them that they were in\nthe presence of a true statesman. No doubt the confidence with which he\ndescribed the best method of dealing with the emergency was the\nconfidence of one who was convinced he was speaking for God. This was\nthe great distinction they perceived between Joseph and ordinary\ndream-interpreters. It was not guesswork with him. The same distinction\nis always apparent between revelation and speculation. Revelation speaks\nwith authority; speculation gropes its way, and when wisest is most\ndiffident. At the same time Pharaoh was perfectly right in his\ninference: \"Forasmuch as God hath shewed thee all this, there is none so\ndiscreet and wise as thou art.\" He believed that God had chosen him to\ndeal with this matter because he was wise in heart, and he believed his\nwisdom would remain because God had chosen him.\n\nAt length, then, Joseph saw the fulfilment of his dreams within his\nreach. The coat of many colours with which his father had paid a\ntribute to the princely person and ways of the boy, was now replaced by\nthe robe of state and the heavy gold necklace which marked him out as\nsecond to Pharaoh. Whatever nerve and self-command and humble dependence\non God his varied experience had wrought in him were all needed when\nPharaoh took his hand and placed his own ring on it, thus transferring\nall his authority to him, and when turning from the king he received the\nacclamations of the court and the people, bowed to by his old masters,\nand acknowledged the superior of all the dignitaries and potentates of\nEgypt. Only once besides, so far as the Egyptian inscriptions have yet\nbeen deciphered, does it appear that any subject was raised to be Regent\nor Viceroy with similar powers. Joseph is, as far as possible,\nnaturalised as an Egyptian. He receives a name easier of pronunciation\nthan his own, at least to Egyptian tongues--Zaphnath-Paaneah, which,\nhowever, was perhaps only an official title meaning \"Governor of the\ndistrict of the place of life,\" the name by which one of the Egyptian\ncounties or states was known. The king crowned his liberality and\ncompleted the process of naturalisation by providing him with a wife,\nAsenath, the daughter of Potipherah, priest of On. This city was not far\nfrom Avaris or Haouar, where Joseph's Pharaoh, Ra-apepi II., at this\ntime resided. The worship of the sun-god, Ra, had its centre at On (or\nHeliopolis, as it was called by the Greeks), and the priests of On took\nprecedence of all Egyptian priests. Joseph was thus connected with one\nof the most influential families in the land, and if he had any scruples\nabout marrying into an idolatrous family, they were too insignificant to\ninfluence his conduct, or leave any trace in the narrative.\n\nHis attitude towards God and his own family was disclosed in the names\nwhich he gave to his children. In giving names which had a meaning at\nall, and not merely a taking sound, he showed that he understood, as\nwell he might, that every human life has a significance and expresses\nsome principle or fact. And in giving names which recorded his\nacknowledgment of God's goodness, he showed that prosperity had as\nlittle influence as adversity to move him from his allegiance to the God\nof his fathers. His first son he called Manasseh, _Making to forget_,\n\"for God,\" said he, \"hath made me forget all my toil and all my father's\nhouse\"--not as if he were now so abundantly satisfied in Egypt that the\nthought of his father's house was blotted from his mind, but only that\nin this child the keen longings he had felt for kindred and home were\nsomewhat alleviated. He again found an object for his strong family\naffection. The void in his heart he had so long felt was filled by the\nlittle babe. A new home was begun around him. But this new affection\nwould not weaken, though it would alter the character of, his love for\nhis father and brethren. The birth of this child would really be a new\ntie to the land from which he had been stolen. For, however ready men\nare to spend their own life in foreign service, you see them wishing\nthat their children should spend their days among the scenes with which\ntheir own childhood was familiar.\n\nIn the naming of his second son Ephraim he recognises that God had made\nhim fruitful in the most unlikely way. He does not leave it to us to\ninterpret his life, but records what he himself saw in it. It has been\nsaid: \"To get at the truth of any history is good; but a man's own\nhistory--when he reads that truly, ... and knows what he is about and\nhas been about, it is a Bible to him.\" And now that Joseph, from the\nheight he had reached, could look back on the way by which he had been\nled to it, he cordially approved of all that God had done. There was no\nresentment, no murmuring. He would often find himself looking back and\nthinking, Had I found my brothers where I thought they were, had the pit\nnot been on the caravan-road, had the merchants not come up so\nopportunely, had I not been sold at all or to some other master, had I\nnot been imprisoned, or had I been put in another ward--had any one of\nthe many slender links in the chain of my career been absent, how\ndifferent might my present state have been. How plainly I now see that\nall those sad mishaps that crushed my hopes and tortured my spirit were\nsteps in the only conceivable path to my present position.\n\nMany a man has added his signature to this acknowledgment of Joseph's,\nand confessed a providence guiding his life and working out good for him\nthrough injuries and sorrows, as well as through honours, marriages,\nbirths. As in the heat of summer it is difficult to recall the sensation\nof winter's bitter cold, so the fruitless and barren periods of a man's\nlife are sometimes quite obliterated from his memory. God has it in His\npower to raise a man higher above the level of ordinary happiness than\never he has sunk below it; and as winter and spring-time, when the seed\nis sown, are stormy and bleak and gusty, so in human life seed-time is\nnot bright as summer nor cheerful as autumn; and yet it is then, when\nall the earth lies bare and will yield us nothing, that the precious\nseed is sown: and when we confidently commit our labour or patience of\nto-day to God, the land of our affliction, now bare and desolate, will\ncertainly wave for us, as it has waved for others, with rich produce\nwhitened to the harvest.\n\nThere is no doubt then that Joseph had learned to recognise the\nprovidence of God as a most important factor in his life. And the man\nwho does so, gains for his character all the strength and resolution\nthat come with a capacity for waiting. He saw, most legibly written on\nhis own life, that God is never in a hurry. And for the resolute\nadherence to his seven-years' policy such a belief was most necessary.\nNothing, indeed, is said of opposition or incredulity on the part of the\nEgyptians. But was there ever a policy of such magnitude carried out in\nany country without opposition or without evilly-disposed persons using\nit as a weapon against its promoter? No doubt during these years he had\nneed of all the personal determination as well as of all the official\nauthority he possessed. And if, on the whole, remarkable success\nattended his efforts, we must ascribe this partly to the unchallengeable\njustice of his arrangements, and partly to the impression of commanding\ngenius Joseph seems everywhere to have made. As with his father and\nbrethren he was felt to be superior, as in Potiphar's house he was\nquickly recognised, as in the prison no prison-garb or slave-brand could\ndisguise him, as in the court his superiority was instinctively felt, so\nin his administration the people seem to have believed in him.\n\nAnd if, on the whole and in general, Joseph was reckoned a wise and\nequitable ruler, and even adored as a kind of saviour of the world, it\nwould be idle in us to canvass the wisdom of his administration. When we\nhave not sufficient historical material to apprehend the full\nsignificance of any policy, it is safe to accept the judgment of men who\nnot only knew the facts, but were themselves so deeply involved in them\nthat they would certainly have felt and expressed discontent had there\nbeen ground for doing so. The policy of Joseph was simply to economize\nduring the seven years of abundance to such an extent that provision\nmight be made against the seven years of famine. He calculated that\none-fifth of the produce of years so extraordinarily plenteous would\nserve for the seven scarce years. This fifth he seems to have bought in\nthe king's name from the people, buying it, no doubt, at the cheap rates\nof abundant years. When the years of famine came, the people were\nreferred to Joseph; and, till their money was gone, he sold corn to\nthem, probably not at famine prices. Next he acquired their cattle, and\nfinally, in exchange for food, they yielded to him both their lands and\ntheir persons. So that the result of the whole was, that the people who\nwould otherwise have perished were preserved, and in return for this\npreservation they paid a tax or rent on their farm-lands to the amount\nof one-fifth of their produce. The people ceased to be proprietors of\ntheir own farms, but they were not slaves with no interest in the soil,\nbut tenants sitting at easy rents--a fair enough exchange for being\npreserved in life. This kind of taxation is eminently fair in principle,\nsecuring, as it does, that the wealth of the king and government shall\nvary with the prosperity of the whole land. The chief difficulty that\nhas always been experienced in working it, has arisen from the necessity\nof leaving a good deal of discretionary power in the hands of the\ncollectors, who have generally been found not slow to abuse this power.\n\nThe only semblance of despotism in Joseph's policy is found in the\ncurious circumstance that he interfered with the people's choice of\nresidence, and shifted them from one end of the land to another. This\nmay have been necessary not only as a kind of seal on the deed by which\nthe lands were conveyed to the king, and as a significant sign to them\nthat they were mere tenants, but also Joseph probably saw that for the\ninterests of the country, if not of agricultural prosperity, this\nshifting had become necessary for the breaking up of illegal\nassociations, nests of sedition, and sectional prejudices and enmities\nwhich were endangering the community.[1] Modern experience supplies us\nwith instances in which, by such a policy, a country might be\nregenerated and a seven years' famine hailed as a blessing if, without\nfamishing the people, it put them unconditionally into the hands of an\nable, bold, and beneficent ruler. And this was a policy which could be\nmuch better devised and executed by a foreigner than by a native.\n\nEgypt's indebtedness to Joseph was, in fact, two-fold. In the first\nplace he succeeded in doing what many strong governments have failed to\ndo: he enabled a large population to survive a long and severe famine.\nEven with all modern facilities for transport and for making the\nabundance of remote countries available for times of scarcity, it has\nnot always been found possible to save our own fellow-subjects from\nstarvation. In a prolonged famine which occurred in Egypt during the\nmiddle ages, the inhabitants, reduced to the unnatural habits which are\nthe most painful feature of such times, not only ate their own dead, but\nkidnapped the living on the streets of Cairo and consumed them in\nsecret. One of the most touching memorials of the famine with which\nJoseph had to deal is found in a sepulchral inscription in Arabia. A\nflood of rain laid bare a tomb in which lay a woman having on her person\na profusion of jewels which represented a very large value. At her head\nstood a coffer filled with treasure, and a tablet with this inscription:\n\"In Thy name, O God, the God of Himyar, I, Tayar, the daughter of Dzu\nShefar, sent my steward to Joseph, and he delaying to return to me, I\nsent my handmaid with a measure of silver to bring me back a measure of\nflour; and not being able to procure it, I sent her with a measure of\ngold; and not being able to procure it, I sent her with a measure of\npearls; and not being able to procure it, I commanded them to be ground;\nand finding no profit in them, I am shut up here.\" If this inscription\nis genuine--and there seems no reason to call it in question--it shows\nthat there is no exaggeration in the statement of our narrator that the\nfamine was very grievous in other lands as well as in Egypt. And,\nwhether genuine or not, one cannot but admire the grim humour of the\nstarving woman getting herself buried in the jewels which had suddenly\ndropped to less than the value of a loaf of bread.\n\nBut besides being indebted to Joseph for their preservation, the\nEgyptians owed to him an extension of their influence; for, as all the\nlands round about became dependent on Egypt for provision, they must\nhave contracted a respect for the Egyptian administration. They must\nalso have added greatly to Egypt's wealth and during those years of\nconstant traffic many commercial connections must have been formed which\nin future years would be of untold value to Egypt. But above all, the\npermanent alterations made by Joseph on their tenure of land, and on\ntheir places of abode, may have convinced the most sagacious of the\nEgyptians that it was well for them that their money had failed, and\nthat they had been compelled to yield themselves unconditionally into\nthe hands of this remarkable ruler. It is the mark of a competent\nstatesman that he makes temporary distress the occasion for permanent\nbenefit; and from the confidence Joseph won with the people, there seems\nevery reason to believe that the permanent alterations he introduced\nwere considered as beneficial as certainly they were bold.\n\nAnd for our own spiritual uses it is this point which seems chiefly\nimportant. In Joseph is illustrated the principle that, in order to the\nattainment of certain blessings, unconditional submission to God's\ndelegate is required. If we miss this, we miss a large part of what his\nhistory exhibits, and it becomes a mere pretty story. The prominent idea\nin his dreams was that he was to be worshipped by his brethren. In his\nexaltation by Pharaoh, the absolute authority given to him is again\nconspicuous: \"Without thee shall no man lift up hand or foot in all the\nland of Egypt.\" And still the same autocracy appears in the fact that\nnot one Egyptian who was helpful to him in this matter is mentioned; and\nno one has received such exclusive possession of a considerable part of\nScripture, so personal and outstanding a place. All this leaves upon the\nmind the impression that Joseph becomes a benefactor, and in his degree\na saviour, to men by becoming their absolute master. When this was\nhinted in his dreams at first his brothers fiercely resented it. But\nwhen they were put to the push by famine, both they and the Egyptians\nrecognised that he was appointed by God to be their saviour, while at\nthe same time they markedly and consciously submitted themselves to him.\nMen may always be expected to recognise that he who can save them alive\nin famine has a right to order the bounds of their habitation; and also\nthat in the hands of one who, from disinterested motives, has saved\nthem, they are likely to be quite as safe as in their own. And if we are\nall quite sure of this, that men of great political sagacity can\nregulate our affairs with tenfold the judgment and success that we\nourselves could achieve, we cannot wonder that in matters still higher,\nand for which we are notoriously incompetent, there should be One into\nwhose hands it is well to commit ourselves--One whose judgment is not\nwarped by the prejudices which blind all mere natives of this world, but\nwho, separate from sinners yet naturalised among us, can both detect and\nrectify everything in our condition which is less than perfect. If there\nare certainly many cases in which explanations are out of the question,\nand in which the governed, if they are wise, will yield themselves to a\ntrusted authority, and leave it to time and results to justify his\nmeasures, any one, I think, who anxiously considers our spiritual\ncondition must see that here too obedience is for us the greater part of\nwisdom, and that, after all speculation and efforts at sufficing\ninvestigation, we can still do no better than yield ourselves absolutely\nto Jesus Christ. He alone understands our whole position; He alone\nspeaks with the authority that commands confidence, because it is felt\nto be the authority of the truth. We feel the present pressure of\nfamine; we have discernment enough, some of us, to know we are in\ndanger, but we cannot penetrate deeply either into the cause or the\npossible consequences of our present state. But Christ--if we may\ncontinue the figure--legislates with a breadth of administrative\ncapacity which includes not only our present distress but our future\ncondition, and, with the boldness of one who is master of the whole\ncase, requires that we put ourselves wholly into His hand. He takes the\nresponsibility of all the changes we make in obedience to Him, and\nproposes so to relieve us that the relief shall be permanent, and that\nthe very emergency which has thrown us upon His help shall be the\noccasion of our transference not merely out of the present evil, but\ninto the best possible form of human life.\n\nFrom this chapter, then, in the history of Joseph, we may reasonably\ntake occasion to remind ourselves, first, that in all things pertaining\nto God unconditional submission to Christ is necessarily required of us.\nApart from Christ we cannot tell what are the necessary elements of a\npermanently happy state; nor, indeed, even whether there is any such\nstate awaiting us. There is a great deal of truth in what is urged by\nunbelievers to the effect that spiritual matters are in great measure\nbeyond our cognizance, and that many of our religious phrases are but,\nas it were, thrown out in the direction of a truth but do not perfectly\nrepresent it. No doubt we are in a provisional state, in which we are\nnot in direct contact with the absolute truth, nor in a final attitude\nof mind towards it; and certain representations of things given in the\nWord of God may seem to us not to cover the whole truth. But this only\ncompels the conclusion that for us Christ is the way, the truth, and the\nlife. To probe existence to the bottom is plainly not in our power. To\nsay precisely what God is, and how we are to carry ourselves towards\nHim, is possible only to him who has been with God and is God. To submit\nto the Spirit of Christ, and to live under those influences and views\nwhich formed His life, is the only method that promises deliverance from\nthat moral condition which makes spiritual vision impossible.\n\nWe may remind ourselves, secondly, that this submission to Christ should\nbe consistently adhered to in connection with those outward occurrences\nin our life which give us opportunity of enlarging our spiritual\ncapacity. There can be little doubt that there would be presented to\nJoseph many a plan for the better administration of this whole matter,\nand many a petition from individuals craving exemption from the\nseemingly arbitrary and certainly painful and troublesome edict\nregulating change of residence. Many a man would think himself much\nwiser than the minister of Pharaoh in whom was the Spirit of God. When\nwe act in a similar manner, and take upon us to specify with precision\nthe changes we should like to see in our condition, and the methods by\nwhich these changes might best be accomplished, we commonly manifest our\nown incompetence. The changes which the strong hand of Providence\nenforces, the dislocation which our life suffers from some irresistible\nblow, the necessity laid upon us to begin life again and on apparently\ndisadvantageous terms, are naturally resented; but these things being\ncertainly the result of some unguardedness, improvidence, or weakness in\nour past state, are necessarily the means most appropriate for\ndisclosing to us these elements of calamity and for securing our\npermanent welfare. We rebel against such perilous and sweeping\nrevolutions as the basing of our life on a new foundation demands; we\nwould disregard the appointments of Providence if we could; but both\nour voluntary consent to the authority of Christ and the impossibility\nof resisting His providential arrangements, prevent us from refusing to\nfall in with them, however needless and tyrannical they seem, and\nhowever little we perceive that they are intended to accomplish our\npermanent well-being. And it is in after years, when the pain of\nseverance from old friends and habits is healed, and when the discomfort\nof adapting ourselves to a new kind of life is replaced by peaceful and\ndocile resignation to new conditions, that we reach the clear perception\nthat the changes we resented have in point of fact rendered harmless the\nseeds of fresh disaster, and rescued us from the results of long bad\ngovernment. He who has most keenly felt the hardship of being diverted\nfrom his original course in life, will in after life tell you that had\nhe been allowed to hold his own land, and remain his own master in his\nold loved abode, he would have lapsed into a condition from which no\nworthy harvest could be expected. If a man only wishes that his own\nconceptions of prosperity be realised, then let him keep his land in his\nown hand and work his material irrespective of God's demands; for\ncertainly if he yields himself to God, his own ideas of prosperity will\nnot be realised. But if he suspects that God may have a more liberal\nconception of prosperity and may understand better than he what is\neternally beneficial, let him commit himself and all his material of\nprosperity without doubting into God's hand, and let him greedily obey\nall God's precepts; for in neglecting one of these, he so far neglects\nand misses what God would have him enter into.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] \"It happened very often that the inhabitants of one district\nthreatened an attack on the occupants of another on account of some\ndispute about divine or human questions. The hostile feelings of the\nopponents not unfrequently broke out into a hard struggle, and it\nrequired the whole armed power of the king to extinguish at its first\noutburst the flaming torch of war, kindled by domineering chiefs of\nnomes or ambitious priests.\"--Brugsch, _History of Egypt_, i. 16.\n\n\n\n\nXXIX.\n\n_VISITS OF JOSEPH'S BRETHREN._\n\nGEN. xlii.-xliv.\n\n    \"Fear not: for am I in the place of God? But as for you, ye thought\n    evil against me; but God meant it unto good.\"--GEN. 1. 19, 20.\n\n\nThe purpose of God to bring Israel into Egypt was accomplished by the\nunconscious agency of Joseph's natural affection for his kindred.\nTenderness towards home is usually increased by residence in a foreign\nland; for absence, like a little death, sheds a halo round those\nseparated from us. But Joseph could not as yet either re-visit his old\nhome or invite his father's family into Egypt. Even, indeed, when his\nbrothers first appeared before him, he seems to have had no immediate\nintention of inviting them as a family to settle in the country of his\nadoption, or even to visit it. If he had cherished any such purpose or\ndesire he might have sent down wagons at once, as he at last did, to\nbring his father's household out of Canaan. Why, then, did he proceed so\ncautiously? Whence this mystery, and disguise, and circuitous compassing\nof his end? What intervened between the first and last visit of his\nbrethren to make it seem advisable to disclose himself and invite them?\nManifestly there had intervened enough to give Joseph insight into the\nstate of mind his brethren were in, enough to satisfy him they were not\nthe men they had been, and that it was safe to ask them and would be\npleasant to have them with him in Egypt. Fully alive to the elements of\ndisorder and violence that once existed among them, and having had no\nopportunity of ascertaining whether they were now altered, there was no\ncourse open but that which he adopted of endeavouring in some unobserved\nway to discover whether twenty years had wrought any change in them.\n\nFor effecting this object he fell on the expedient of imprisoning them,\non pretence of their being spies. This served the double purpose of\ndetaining them until he should have made up his mind as to the best\nmeans of dealing with them, and of securing their retention under his\neye until some display of character might sufficiently certify him of\ntheir state of mind. Possibly he adopted this expedient also because it\nwas likely deeply to move them, so that they might be expected to\nexhibit not such superficial feelings as might have been elicited had he\nset them down to a banquet and entered into conversation with them over\ntheir wine, but such as men are surprised to find in themselves, and\nknow nothing of in their lighter hours. Joseph was, of course, well\naware that in the analysis of character the most potent elements are\nonly brought into clear view when the test of severe trouble is applied,\nand when men are thrown out of all conventional modes of thinking and\nspeaking.\n\nThe display of character which Joseph awaited he speedily obtained. For\nso new an experience to these free dwellers in tents as imprisonment\nunder grim Egyptian guards worked wonders in them. Men who have\nexperienced such treatment aver that nothing more effectually tames and\nbreaks the spirit: it is not the being confined for a definite time\nwith the certainty of release in the end, but the being shut up at the\ncaprice of another on a false and absurd accusation; the being cooped up\nat the will of a stranger in a foreign country, uncertain and hopeless\nof release. To Joseph's brethren so sudden and great a calamity seemed\nexplicable only on the theory that it was retribution for the great\ncrime of their life. The uneasy feeling which each of them had hidden in\nhis own conscience, and which the lapse of twenty years had not\nmaterially alleviated, finds expression: \"And they said one to another,\nWe are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish\nof his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear; therefore is\nthis distress come upon us.\" The similarity of their position to that in\nwhich they had placed their brother stimulates and assists their\nconscience. Joseph, in the anguish of his soul, had protested his\ninnocence, but they had not listened; and now their own protestations\nare treated as idle wind by this Egyptian. Their own feelings,\nrepresenting to them what they had caused Joseph to suffer, stir a\nkeener sense of their guilt than they seem ever before to have reached.\nUnder this new light they see their sin more clearly, and are humbled by\nthe distress into which it has brought them.\n\nWhen Joseph sees this, his heart warms to them. He may not yet be quite\nsure of them. A prison-repentance is perhaps scarcely to be trusted. He\nsees they would for the moment deal differently with him had they the\nopportunity, and would welcome no one more heartily than himself, whose\ncoming among them had once so exasperated them. Himself keen in his\naffections, he is deeply moved, and his eyes fill with tears as he\nwitnesses their emotion and grief on his account. Fain would he relieve\nthem from their remorse and apprehension--why, then, does he forbear?\nWhy does he not at this juncture disclose himself? It has been\nsatisfactorily proved that his brethren counted their sale of him the\ngreat crime of their life. Their imprisonment has elicited evidence that\nthat crime had taken in their conscience the capital place, the place\nwhich a man finds some one sin or series of sins will take, to follow\nhim with its appropriate curse, and hang over his future like a cloud--a\nsin of which he thinks when any strange thing happens to him, and to\nwhich he traces all disaster--a sin so iniquitous that it seems capable\nof producing any results however grievous, and to which he has so given\nhimself that his life seems to be concentrated there, and he cannot but\nconnect with it all the greater ills that happen to him. Was not this,\nthen, security enough that they would never again perpetrate a crime of\nlike atrocity? Every man who has almost at all observed the history of\nsin in himself, will say that most certainly it was quite insufficient\nsecurity against their ever again doing the like. Evidence that a man is\nconscious of his sin, and, while suffering from its consequences, feels\ndeeply its guilt, is not evidence that his character is altered.\n\nAnd because we believe men so much more readily than God, and think that\nthey do not require, for form's sake, such needless pledges of a changed\ncharacter as God seems to demand, it is worth observing that Joseph,\nmoved as he was even to tears, felt that common prudence forbade him to\ncommit himself to his brethren without further evidence of their\ndisposition. They had distinctly acknowledged their guilt, and in his\nhearing had admitted that the great calamity that had befallen them was\nno more than they deserved; yet Joseph, judging merely as an\nintelligent man who had worldly interests depending on his judgment,\ncould not discern enough here to justify him in supposing that his\nbrethren were changed men. And it might sometimes serve to expose the\ninsufficiency of our repentance were clear-seeing men the judges of it,\nand did they express their opinion of its trustworthiness. We may think\nthat God is needlessly exacting when He requires evidence not only of a\nchanged mind about past sin, but also of such a mind being now in us as\nwill preserve us from future sin; but the truth is, that no man whose\ncommon worldly interests were at stake would commit himself to us on any\nless evidence. God, then, meaning to bring the house of Israel into\nEgypt in order to make progress in the Divine education He was giving to\nthem, could not introduce them into that land in a state of mind which\nwould negative all the discipline they were there to receive.\n\nThese men then had to give evidence that they not only saw, and in some\nsense repented of, their sin, but also that they had got rid of the evil\npassion which had led to it. This is what God means by repentance. Our\nsins are in general not so microscopic that it requires very keen\nspiritual discernment to perceive them. But to be quite aware of our\nsin, and to acknowledge it, is not to repent of it. Everything falls\nshort of thorough repentance which does not prevent us from committing\nthe sin anew. We do not so much desire to be accurately informed about\nour past sins, and to get right views of our past selves; we wish to be\nno longer sinners, we wish to pass through some process by which we may\nbe separated from that in us which has led us into sin. Such a process\nthere is, for these men passed through it.\n\nThe test which revealed the thoroughness of his brothers' repentance was\nunintentionally applied by Joseph. When he hid his cup in Benjamin's\nsack, all that he intended was to furnish a pretext for detaining\nBenjamin, and so gratifying his own affection. But, to his astonishment,\nhis trick effected far more than he intended; for the brothers,\nrecognising now their brotherhood, circled round Benjamin, and, to a\nman, resolved to go back with him to Egypt. We cannot argue from this\nthat Joseph had misapprehended the state of mind in which his brothers\nwere, and in his judgment of them had been either too timorous or too\nsevere; nor need we suppose that he was hampered by his relations to\nPharaoh, and therefore unwilling to connect himself too closely with men\nof whom he might be safer to be rid; because it was this very peril of\nBenjamin's that matured their brotherly affection. They themselves could\nnot have anticipated that they would make such a sacrifice for Benjamin.\nBut throughout their dealings with this mysterious Egyptian, they felt\nthemselves under a spell, and were being gradually, though perhaps\nunconsciously, softened, and in order to complete the change passing\nupon them, they but required some such incident as this of Benjamin's\narrest. This incident seemed by some strange fatality to threaten them\nwith a renewed perpetration of the very crime they had committed against\nRachel's other son. It threatened to force them to become again the\ninstrument of bereaving their father of his darling child, and bringing\nabout that very calamity which they had pledged themselves should never\nhappen. It was an incident, therefore, which, more than any other, was\nlikely to call out their family love.\n\nThe scene lives in every one's memory. They were going gladly back to\ntheir own country with corn enough for their children, proud of their\nentertainment by the lord of Egypt; anticipating their father's\nexultation when he heard how generously they had been treated and when\nhe saw Benjamin safely restored, feeling that in bringing him back they\nalmost compensated for having bereaved him of Joseph. Simeon is\nrevelling in the free air that blew from Canaan and brought with it the\nscents of his native land, and breaks into the old songs that the strait\nconfinement of his prison had so long silenced--all of them together\nrejoicing in a scarcely hoped-for success; when suddenly, ere the first\nelation is spent, they are startled to see the hasty approach of the\nEgyptian messenger, and to hear the stern summons that brought them to a\nhalt, and boded all ill. The few words of the just Egyptian, and his\ncalm, explicit judgment, \"Ye have done evil in so doing,\" pierce them\nlike a keen blade--that they should be suspected of robbing one who had\ndealt so generously with them; that all Israel should be put to shame in\nthe sight of the stranger! But they begin to feel relief as one brother\nafter another steps forward with the boldness of innocence; and as sack\nafter sack is emptied, shaken, and flung aside, they already eye the\nsteward with the bright air of triumph; when, as the very last sack is\nemptied, and as all breathlessly stand round, amid the quick rustle of\nthe corn, the sharp rattle of metal strikes on their ear, and the gleam\nof silver dazzles their eyes as the cup rolls out in the sunshine. This,\nthen, is the brother of whom their father was so careful that he dared\nnot suffer him out of his sight! This is the precious youth whose life\nwas of more value than the lives of all the brethren, and to keep whom a\nfew months longer in his father's sight Simeon had been left to rot in a\ndungeon! This is how he repays the anxiety of the family and their love,\nand this is how he repays the extraordinary favour of Joseph! By one\nrash childish act had this fondled youth, to all appearance, brought\nupon the house of Israel irretrievable disgrace, if not complete\nextinction. Had these men been of their old temper, their knives had\nvery speedily proved that their contempt for the deed was as great as\nthe Egyptian's; by violence towards Benjamin they might have cleared\nthemselves of all suspicion of complicity; or, at the best, they might\nhave considered themselves to be acting in a fair and even lenient\nmanner if they had surrendered the culprit to the steward, and once\nagain carried back to their father a tale of blood. But they were under\nthe spell of their old sin. In all disaster, however innocent they now\nwere, they saw the retribution of their old iniquity; they seem scarcely\nto consider whether Benjamin was innocent or guilty, but as humbled,\nGod-smitten men, \"they rent their clothes, and laded every man his ass,\nand returned to the city.\"\n\nThus Joseph in seeking to gain _one_ brother found eleven--for now there\ncould be no doubt that they were very different men from those brethren\nwho had so heartlessly sold into slavery their father's favourite--men\nnow with really brotherly feelings, by penitence and regard for their\nfather so wrought together into one family, that this calamity, intended\nto fall only on one of their number, did in falling on him fall on them\nall. So far from wishing now to rid themselves of Rachel's son and their\nfather's favourite, who had been put by their father in so prominent a\nplace in his affection, they will not even give him up to suffer what\nseemed the just punishment of his theft, do not even reproach him with\nhaving brought them all into disgrace and difficulty, but, as humbled\nmen who knew they had greater sins of their own to answer for, went\nquietly back to Egypt, determined to see their younger brother through\nhis misfortune or to share his bondage with him. Had these men not been\nthoroughly changed, thoroughly convinced that at all costs upright\ndealing and brotherly love should continue; had they not possessed that\nfirst and last of Christian virtues, love to their brother, then nothing\ncould so certainly have revealed their want of it as this apparent theft\nof Benjamin's. It seemed in itself a very likely thing that a lad\naccustomed to plain modes of life, and whose character it was to \"ravin\nas a wolf,\" should, when suddenly introduced to the gorgeous Egyptian\nbanqueting-house with all its sumptuous furnishings, have coveted some\nchoice specimen of Egyptian art, to carry home to his father as proof\nthat he could not only bring himself back in safety, but scorned to come\nback from any expedition empty-handed. It was not unlikely either that,\nwith his mother's own superstition, he might have conceived the bold\ndesign of robbing this Egyptian, so mysterious and so powerful,\naccording to his brothers' account, and of breaking that spell which he\nhad thrown over them; he may thus have conceived the idea of achieving\nfor himself a reputation in the family, and of once for all redeeming\nhimself from the somewhat undignified, and to one of his spirit somewhat\nuncongenial, position of the youngest of a family. If, as is possible,\nhe had let any such idea ooze out in talking with his brethren as they\nwent down to Egypt, and only abandoned it on their indignant and urgent\nremonstrance, then when the cup, Joseph's chief treasure according to\nhis own account, was discovered in Benjamin's sack, the case must have\nlooked sadly against him even in the eyes of his brethren. No\nprotestations of innocence in a particular instance avail much when the\ncharacter and general habits of the accused point to guilt. It is quite\npossible, therefore, that the brethren, though willing to believe\nBenjamin, were yet not so thoroughly convinced of his innocence as they\nwould have desired. The fact that they themselves had found their money\nreturned in their sacks, made for Benjamin; yet in most cases,\nespecially where circumstances corroborate it, an accusation even\nagainst the innocent takes immediate hold and cannot be summarily and at\nonce got rid of.\n\nThus was proof given that the house of Israel was now in truth one\nfamily. The men who, on very slight instigation, had without compunction\nsold Joseph to a life of slavery, cannot now find it in their heart to\nabandon a brother who, to all appearance, was worthy of no better life\nthan that of a slave, and who had brought them all into disgrace and\ndanger. Judah had no doubt pledged himself to bring the lad back without\nscathe to his father, but he had done so without contemplating the\npossibility of Benjamin becoming amenable to Egyptian law. And no one\ncan read the speech of Judah--one of the most pathetic on record--in\nwhich he replies to Joseph's judgment that Benjamin alone should remain\nin Egypt, without perceiving that he speaks not as one who merely seeks\nto redeem a pledge, but as a good son and a good brother. He speaks,\ntoo, as the mouth-piece of the rest, and as he had taken the lead in\nJoseph's sale, so he does not shrink from standing forward and\naccepting the heavy responsibility which may now light upon the man who\nrepresents these brethren. His former faults are redeemed by the\ncourage, one may say heroism, he now shows. And as he spoke, so the rest\nfelt. They could not bring themselves to inflict a new sorrow on their\naged father; neither could they bear to leave their young brother in the\nhands of strangers. The passions which had alienated them from one\nanother, and had threatened to break up the family, are subdued. There\nis now discernible a common feeling that binds them together, and a\ncommon object for which they willingly sacrifice themselves. They are,\ntherefore, now prepared to pass into that higher school to which God\ncalled them in Egypt. It mattered little what strong and equitable laws\nthey found in the land of their adoption, if they had no taste for\nupright living; it mattered little what thorough national organization\nthey would be brought into contact with in Egypt, if in point of fact\nthey owned no common brotherhood, and were willing rather to live as\nunits and every man for himself than for any common interest. But now\nthey were prepared, open to teaching, and docile.\n\nTo complete our apprehension of the state of mind into which the\nbrethren were brought by Joseph's treatment of them, we must take into\naccount the assurance he gave them, when he made himself known to them,\nthat it was not they but God who had sent him into Egypt, and that God\nhad done this for the purpose of preserving the whole house of Israel.\nAt first sight this might seem to be an injudicious speech, calculated\nto make the brethren think lightly of their guilt, and to remove the\njust impressions they now entertained of the unbrotherliness of their\nconduct to Joseph. And it might have been an injudicious speech to\nimpenitent men; but no further view of sin can lighten its heinousness\nto a really penitent sinner. Prove to him that his sin has become the\nmeans of untold good, and you only humble him the more, and more deeply\nconvince him that while he was recklessly gratifying himself and\nsacrificing others for his own pleasure, God has been mindful of others,\nand, pardoning him, has blessed them. God does not need our sins to work\nout His good intentions, but we give Him little other material; and the\ndiscovery that through our evil purposes and injurious deeds God has\nworked out His beneficent will, is certainly not calculated to make us\nthink more lightly of our sin or more highly of ourselves.\n\nJoseph in thus addressing his brethren did, in fact, but add to their\nfeelings the tenderness that is in all religious conviction, and that\nsprings out of the consciousness that in all our sin there has been with\nus a holy and loving Father, mindful of His children. This is the final\nstage of penitence. The knowledge that God has prevented our sin from\ndoing the harm it might have done, does relieve the bitterness and\ndespair with which we view our life, but at the same time it strengthens\nthe most effectual bulwark between us and sin--love to a holy,\nover-ruling God. This, therefore, may always be safely said to\npenitents: Out of your worst sin God can bring good to yourself or to\nothers, and good of an apparently necessary kind; but good of a\npermanent kind can result from your sin only when you have truly\nrepented of it, and sincerely wish you had never done it. Once this\nrepentance is really wrought in you, then, though your life can never be\nthe same as it might have been had you not sinned, it may be, in some\nrespects, a more richly developed life, a life fuller of humility and\nlove. You can never have what you sold for your sin; but the poverty\nyour sin has brought may excite within you thoughts and energies more\nvaluable than what you have lost, as these men lost a brother but found\na Saviour. The wickedness that has often made you bow your head and\nmourn in secret, and which is in itself unutterable shame and loss, may,\nin God's hand, become food against the day of famine. You cannot ever\nhave the enjoyments which are possible only to those whose conscience is\nladen with no evil remembrances, and whose nature, uncontracted and\nunwithered by familiarity with sin, can give itself to enjoyment with\nthe abandonment and fearlessness reserved for the innocent. No more at\nall will you have that fineness of feeling which only ignorance of evil\ncan preserve; no more that high and great conscientiousness which, once\nbroken, is never repaired; no more that respect from other men which for\never and instinctively departs from those who have lost self-respect.\nBut you may have a more intelligent sympathy with other men and a keener\npity for them; the experience you have gathered too late to save\nyourself may put it in your power to be of essential service to others.\nYou cannot win your way back to the happy, useful, evenly-developed life\nof the comparatively innocent, but the life of the true-hearted penitent\nis yet open to you. Every beat of your heart now may be as if it\nthrobbed against a poisoned dagger, every duty may shame you, every day\nbring weariness and new humiliation, but let no pain or discouragement\navail to defraud you of the good fruits of true reconciliation to God\nand submission to His lifelong discipline. See that you lose not both\nlives, the life of the comparatively innocent and the life of the truly\npenitent.\n\n\n\n\nXXX.\n\n_THE RECONCILIATION._\n\nGEN. xlv.\n\n    \"By faith Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing of the\n    children of Israel; and gave commandment concerning his\n    bones.\"--HEB. xi. 22.\n\n\nIt is generally by some circumstance or event which perplexes, troubles,\nor gladdens us, that new thoughts regarding conduct are presented to us,\nand new impulses communicated to our life. And the circumstances through\nwhich Joseph's brethren passed during the famine not only subdued and\nsoftened them to a genuine family feeling, but elicited in Joseph\nhimself a more tender affection for them than he seems at first to have\ncherished. For the first time since his entrance into Egypt did he feel,\nwhen Judah spoke so touchingly and effectively, that the family of\nIsrael was one; and that he himself would be reprehensible did he make\nfurther breaches in it by carrying out his intention of detaining\nBenjamin. Moved by Judah's pathetic appeal, and yielding to the generous\nimpulse of the moment, and being led by a right state of feeling to a\nright judgment regarding duty, he claimed his brethren as brethren, and\nproposed that the whole family be brought into Egypt.\n\nThe scene in which the sacred writer describes the reconciliation of\nJoseph and his brothers is one of the most touching on record;--the long\nestrangement so happily terminated; the caution, the doubts, the\nhesitation on Joseph's part, swept away at last by the resistless tide\nof long pent-up emotion; the surprise and perplexity of the brethren as\nthey dared now to lift their eyes and scrutinize the face of the\ngovernor, and discerned the lighter complexion of the Hebrew, the\nfeatures of the family of Jacob, the expression of their own brother;\nthe anxiety with which they wait to know how he means to repay their\ncrime, and the relief with which they hear that he bears them no\nill-will--everything, in short, conduces to render this recognition of\nthe brethren interesting and affecting. That Joseph, who had controlled\nhis feeling in many a trying situation, should now have \"wept aloud,\"\nneeds no explanation. Tears always express a mingled feeling; at least\nthe tears of a man do. They may express grief, but it is grief with some\nremorse in it, or it is grief passing into resignation. They may express\njoy, but it is joy born of long sorrow, the joy of deliverance, joy that\ncan now afford to let the heart weep out the fears it has been holding\ndown. It is as with a kind of breaking of the heart, and apparent\nunmanning of the man, that the human soul takes possession of its\ngreatest treasures; unexpected success and unmerited joy humble a man;\nand as laughter expresses the surprise of the intellect, so tears\nexpress the amazement of the soul when it is stormed suddenly by a great\njoy. Joseph had been hardening himself to lead a solitary life in Egypt,\nand it is with all this strong self-sufficiency breaking down within him\nthat he eyes his brethren. It is his love for them making its way\nthrough all his ability to do without them, and sweeping away as a\nflood the bulwarks he had built round his heart,--it is this that breaks\nhim down before them, a man conquered by his own love, and unable to\ncontrol it. It compels him to make himself known, and to possess himself\nof its objects, those unconscious brethren. It is a signal instance of\nthe law by which love brings all the best and holiest beings into\ncontact with their inferiors, and, in a sense, puts them in their power,\nand thus eternally provides that the superiority of those that are high\nin the scale of being shall ever be at the service of those who in\nthemselves are not so richly endowed. The higher any being is, the more\nlove is in him: that is to say, the higher he is, the more surely is he\nbound to all who are beneath him. If God is highest of all, it is\nbecause there is in Him sufficiency for all His creatures, and love to\nmake it universally available.\n\nIt is one of our most familiar intellectual pleasures to see in the\nexperience of others, or to read, a lucid and moving account of emotions\nidentical with those which have once been our own. In reading an account\nof what others have passed through, our pleasure is derived mainly from\ntwo sources--either from our being brought, by sympathy with them and in\nimagination, into circumstances we ourselves have never been placed in,\nand thus artificially enlarging our sphere of life, and adding to our\nexperience feelings which could not have been derived from anything we\nourselves have met with; or, from our living over again, by means of\ntheir experience, a part of our life which had great interest and\nmeaning to us. It may be excusable, therefore, if we divert this\nnarrative from its original historical significance, and use it as the\nmirror in which we may see reflected an important passage or crisis in\nour own spiritual history. For though some may find in it little that\nreflects their own experience, others cannot fail to be reminded of\nfeelings with which they were very familiar when first they were\nintroduced to Christ, and acknowledged by Him.\n\n1. The modes in which our Lord makes Himself known to men are various as\ntheir lives and characters. But frequently the forerunning choice of a\nsinner by Christ is discovered in such gradual and ill-understood\ndealings as Joseph used with those brethren. It is the closing of a net\naround them. They do not see what is driving them forward, nor whither\nthey are being driven; they are anxious and ill at ease; and not\ncomprehending what ails them, they make only ineffectual efforts for\ndeliverance. There is no recognition of the hand that is guiding all\nthis circuitous and mysterious preparatory work, nor of the eye that\naffectionately watches their perplexity, nor are they aware of any\nfriendly ear that catches each sigh in which they seem hopelessly to\nresign themselves to the relentless past from which they cannot escape.\nThey feel that they are left alone to make what they can now of the life\nthey have chosen and made for themselves; that there is floating behind\nand around them a cloud bearing the very essence exhaled from their\npast, and ready to burst over them; a phantom that is yet real, and that\nbelongs both to the spiritual and material world, and can follow them in\neither. They seem to be doomed men--men who are never at all to get\ndisentangled from their old sin.\n\nIf any one is in this baffled and heartless condition, fearing even good\nlest it turn to evil in his hand; afraid to take the money that lies in\nhis sack's mouth, because he feels there is a snare in it; if any one is\nsensible that life has become unmanageable in his hands, and that he is\nbeing drawn on by an unseen power which he does not understand, then let\nhim consider in the scene before us how such a condition ends or may\nend. It took many months of doubt, and fear, and mystery to bring those\nbrethren to such a state of mind as made it advisable for Joseph to\ndisclose himself, to scatter the mystery, and relieve them of the\nunaccountable uneasiness that possessed their minds. And your perplexity\nwill not be allowed to last longer than it is needful. But it is often\nneedful that we should first learn that in sinning we have introduced\ninto our life a baffling, perplexing element, have brought our life into\nconnection with inscrutable laws which we cannot control, and which we\nfeel may at any moment destroy us utterly. It is not from carelessness\non Christ's part that His people are not always and from the first\nrejoicing in the assurance and appreciation of His love. It is His\ncarefulness which lays a restraining hand on the ardour of His\naffection. We see that this burst of tears on Joseph's part was genuine,\nwe have no suspicion that he was feigning an emotion he did not feel; we\nbelieve that his affection at last could not be restrained, that he was\nfairly overcome,--can we not trust Christ for as genuine a love, and\nbelieve that His emotion is as deep? We are, in a word, reminded by this\nscene, that there is always in Christ a greater love seeking the\nfriendship of the sinner than there is in the sinner seeking for Christ.\nThe search of the sinner for Christ is always a dubious, hesitating,\nuncertain groping; while on Christ's part there is a clear-seeing,\naffectionate solicitude which lays joyful surprises along the sinner's\npath, and enjoys by anticipation the gladness and repose which are\nprepared for him in the final recognition and reconcilement.\n\n2. In finding their brother again, those sons of Jacob found also their\nown better selves which they had long lost. They had been living in a\nlie, unable to look the past in the face, and so becoming more and more\nfalse. Trying to leave their sin behind them, they always found it\nrising in the path before them, and again they had to resort to some new\nmode of laying this uneasy ghost. They turned away from it, busied\nthemselves among other people, refused to think of it, assumed all kinds\nof disguise, professed to themselves that they had done no great wrong;\nbut nothing gave them deliverance--there was their old sin quietly\nwaiting for them in their tent door when they went home of an evening,\nlaying its hand on their shoulder in the most unlooked-for places, and\nwhispering in their ear at the most unwelcome seasons. A great part of\ntheir mental energy had been spent in deleting this mark from their\nmemory, and yet day by day it resumed its supreme place in their life,\nholding them under arrest as they secretly felt, and keeping them\nreserved to judgment.\n\nSo, too, do many of us live as if yet we had not found the life eternal,\nthe kind of life that we can always go on with--rather as those who are\nbut making the best of a life which can never be very valuable, nor ever\nperfect. There seem voices calling us back, assuring us we must yet\nretrace our steps, that there are passages in our past with which we are\nnot done, that there is an inevitable humiliation and penitence awaiting\nus. It is through that we can alone get back to the good we once saw and\nhoped for; there were right desires and resolves in us once, views of a\nwell-spent life which have been forgotten and pressed out of\nremembrance, but all these rise again in the presence of Christ.\nReconciled to Him and claimed by Him, all hope is renewed within us. If\nHe makes Himself known to us, if He claims connection with us, have we\nnot here the promise of all good? If He, after careful scrutiny, after\nfull consideration of all the circumstances, bids us claim as our\nbrother Him to whom all power and glory are given, ought not this to\nquicken within us everything that is hopeful, and ought it not to\nstrengthen us for all frank acknowledgment of the past and true\nhumiliation on account of it?\n\n3. A third suggestion is made by this narrative. Joseph commanded from\nhis presence all who might be merely curious spectators of his burst of\nfeeling, and might, themselves unmoved, criticise this new feature of\nthe governor's character. In all love there is a similar reserve. The\ntrue friend of Christ, the man who is profoundly conscious that between\nhimself and Christ there is a bond unique and eternal, longs for a time\nwhen he may enjoy greater liberty in uttering what he feels towards his\nLord and Redeemer, and when, too, Christ Himself shall by telling and\nsufficient signs put it for ever beyond doubt that this love is more\nthan responded to. Words sufficiently impassioned have indeed been put\ninto our lips by men of profound spiritual feeling, but the feeling\ncontinually weighs upon us that some more palpable mutual recognition is\ndesirable between persons so vitally and peculiarly knit together as\nChrist and the Christian are. Such recognition, indubitable and\nreciprocal, must one day take place. And when Christ Himself shall have\ntaken the initiative, and shall have caused us to understand that we are\nverily the objects of His love, and shall have given such expression to\nHis knowledge of us as we cannot now receive, we on our part shall be\nable to reciprocate, or at least to accept, this greatest of\npossessions, the brotherly love of the Son of God. Meanwhile this\npassage in Joseph's history may remind us that behind all sternness of\nexpression there may pulsate a tenderness that needs thus to disguise\nitself; and that to those who have not yet recognised Christ, He is\nbetter than He seems. Those brethren no doubt wonder now that even\ntwenty years' alienation should have so blinded them. The relaxation of\nthe expression from the sternness of an Egyptian governor to the\nfondness of family love, the voice heard now in the familiar mother\ntongue, reveal the brother; and they who have shrunk from Christ as if\nHe were a cold official, and who have never lifted their eyes to\nscrutinize His face, are reminded that He can so make Himself known to\nthem that not all the wealth of Egypt would purchase from them one of\nthe assurances they have received from Him.\n\nThe same warm tide of feeling which carried away all that separated\nJoseph from his brethren bore him on also to the decision to invite his\nfather's entire household into Egypt. We are reminded that the history\nof Joseph in Egypt is an episode, and that Jacob is still the head of\nthe house, maintaining its dignity and guiding its movements. The\nnotices we get of him in this latter part of his history are very\ncharacteristic. The indomitable toughness of his youth remained with him\nin his old age. He was one of those old men who maintain their vigour to\nthe end, the energy of whose age seems to shame and overtax the prime of\ncommon men; whose minds are still the clearest, their advice the safest,\ntheir word waited for, their perception of the actual state of affairs\nalways in advance of their juniors, more modern and fully abreast of the\ntimes in their ideas than the latest born of their children. Such an\nold age we recognise in Jacob's half-scornful chiding of the\nhelplessness of his sons even after they had heard that there was corn\nin Egypt. \"Why look ye one upon another? Behold! I have heard that there\nis corn in Egypt; get ye down thither and buy for us from thence.\"\nJacob, the man who had wrestled through life and bent all things to his\nwill, cannot put up with the helpless dejection of this troop of strong\nmen, who have no wit to devise an escape for themselves, and no\nresolution to enforce upon the others any device that may occur to them.\nWaiting still like children for some one else to help them, having\nstrength to endure but no strength to undertake the responsibility of\nadvising in an emergency, they are roused by their father, who has been\neyeing this condition of theirs with some curiosity and with some\ncontempt, and now breaks in upon it with his \"Why look ye one upon\nanother?\" It is the old Jacob, full of resources, prompt and\nimperturbable, equal to every turn of fortune, and never knowing how to\nyield.\n\nEven more clearly do we see the vigour of Jacob's old age when he comes\nin contact with Joseph. For many years Joseph had been accustomed to\ncommand; he had unusual natural sagacity and a special gift of insight\nfrom God, but he seems a child in comparison with Jacob. When he brings\nhis two sons to get their grandfather's blessing, Jacob sees what Joseph\nhas no inkling of, and peremptorily declines to follow the advice of his\nwise son. With all Joseph's sagacity there were points in which his\nblind father saw more clearly than he. Joseph, who could teach the\nEgyptian senators wisdom, standing thus at a loss even to understand his\nfather, and suggesting in his ignorance futile corrections, is a picture\nof the incapacity of natural affection to rise to the wisdom of God's\nlove, and of the finest natural discernment to anticipate God's purposes\nor supply the place of a lifelong experience.\n\nJacob's warm-heartedness has also survived the chills and shocks of a\nlong lifetime. He clings now to Benjamin as once he clung to Joseph. And\nas he had wrought for Rachel fourteen years, and the love he bare to her\nmade them seem but a few days, so for twenty years now had he remembered\nJoseph who had inherited this love, and he shows by his frequent\nreference to him that he was keeping his word and going down to the\ngrave mourning for his son. To such a man it must have been a severe\ntrial indeed to be left alone in his tents, deprived of all his twelve\nsons; and we hear his old faith in God steadying the voice that yet\ntrembles with emotion as he says, \"If I be bereaved of my children, I am\nbereaved.\" It was a trial not, indeed, so painful as that of Abraham\nwhen he lifted the knife over the life of his only son; but it was so\nsimilar to it as inevitably to suggest it to the mind. Jacob also had to\nyield up all his children, and to feel, as he sat solitary in his tent,\nhow utterly dependent upon God he was for their restoration; that it was\nnot he but God alone who could build the house of Israel.\n\nThe anxiety with which he gazed evening after evening towards the\nsetting sun, to descry the returning caravan, was at last relieved. But\nhis joy was not altogether unalloyed. His sons brought with them a\nsummons to shift the patriarchal encampment into Egypt--a summons which\nevidently nothing would have induced Jacob to respond to had it not come\nfrom his long-lost Joseph, and had it not thus received what he felt to\nbe a divine sanction. The extreme reluctance which Jacob showed to the\njourney, we must be careful to refer to its true source. The Asiatics,\nand especially shepherd tribes, move easily. One who thoroughly knows\nthe East says: \"The Oriental is not afraid to go far, if he has not to\ncross the sea; for, once uprooted, distance makes little difference to\nhim. He has no furniture to carry, for, except a carpet and a few brass\npans, he uses none. He has no trouble about meals, for he is content\nwith parched grain, which his wife can cook anywhere, or dried dates, or\ndried flesh, or anything obtainable which will keep. He is, on a march,\ncareless where he sleeps, provided his family are around him--in a\nstable, under a porch, in the open air. He never changes his clothes at\nnight, and he is profoundly indifferent to everything that the Western\nman understands by 'comfort.'\" But there was in Jacob's case a\npeculiarity. He was called upon to abandon, for an indefinite period,\nthe land which God had given him as the heir of His promise. With very\ngreat toil and not a little danger had Jacob won his way back to Canaan\nfrom Mesopotamia; on his return he had spent the best years of his life,\nand now he was resting there in his old age, having seen his children's\nchildren, and expecting nothing but a peaceful departure to his fathers.\nBut suddenly the wagons of Pharaoh stand at his tent-door, and while the\nparched and bare pastures bid him go to the plenty of Egypt, to which\nthe voice of his long-lost son invites him, he hears a summons which,\nhowever trying, he cannot disregard.\n\nSuch an experience is perpetually reproduced. Many are they who having\nat length received from God some long-expected good are quickly summoned\nto relinquish it again. And while the waiting for what seems\nindispensable to us is trying, it is tenfold more so to have to part\nwith it when at last obtained, and obtained at the cost of much besides.\nThat particular arrangement of our worldly circumstances which we have\nlong sought, we are almost immediately thrown out of. That position in\nlife, or that object of desire, which God Himself seems in many ways to\nhave encouraged us to seek, is taken from us almost as soon as we have\ntasted its sweetness. The cup is dashed from our lips at the very moment\nwhen our thirst was to be fully slaked. In such distressing\ncircumstances we cannot _see_ the end God is aiming at; but of this we\nmay be certain, that He does not wantonly annoy, or relish our\ndiscomfiture, and that when we are compelled to resign what is partial,\nit is that we may one day enjoy what is complete, and that if for the\npresent we have to forego much comfort and delight, this is only an\nabsolutely necessary step towards our permanent establishment in all\nthat can bless and prosper us.\n\nIt is this state of feeling which explains the words of Jacob when\nintroduced to Pharaoh. A recent writer, who spent some years on the\nbanks of the Nile and on its waters, and who mixed freely with the\ninhabitants of Egypt, says: \"Old Jacob's speech to Pharaoh really made\nme laugh, because it is so exactly like what a Fellah says to a Pacha,\n'Few and evil have the days of the years of my life been,' Jacob being a\nmost prosperous man, but it is manners to say all that.\" But Eastern\nmanners need scarcely be called in to explain a sentiment which we find\nrepeated by one who is generally esteemed the most self-sufficing of\nEuropeans. \"I have ever been esteemed,\" Goethe says, \"one of Fortune's\nchiefest favourites; nor will I complain or find fault with the course\nmy life has taken. Yet, truly, there has been nothing but toil and\ncare; and I may say that, in all my seventy-five years, I have never\nhad a month of genuine comfort. It has been the perpetual rolling of a\nstone, which I have always had to raise anew.\" Jacob's life had been\nalmost ceaseless disquiet and disappointment. A man who had fled his\ncountry, who had been cheated into a marriage, who had been compelled by\nhis own relative to live like a slave, who was only by flight able to\nsave himself from a perpetual injustice, whose sons made his life\nbitter,--one of them by the foulest outrage a father could suffer, two\nof them by making him, as he himself said, to stink in the nostrils of\nthe inhabitants of the land he was trying to settle in, and all of them\nby conspiring to deprive him of the child he most dearly loved--a man\nwho at last, when he seemed to have had experience of every form of\nhuman calamity, was compelled by famine to relinquish the land for the\nsake of which he had endured all and spent all, might surely be forgiven\na little plaintiveness in looking back upon his past. The wonder is to\nfind Jacob to the end unbroken, dignified, and clear-seeing, capable and\ncommanding, loving and full of faith.\n\nCordial as the reconciliation between Joseph and his brethren seemed, it\nwas not as thorough as might have been desired. So long, indeed, as\nJacob lived, all went well; but \"when Joseph's brethren saw that their\nfather was dead, they said, Joseph will peradventure hate us, and will\ncertainly requite us all the evil which we did unto him.\" No wonder\nJoseph wept when he received their message. He wept because he saw that\nhe was still misunderstood and distrusted by his brethren; because he\nfelt, too, that had they been more generous men themselves, they would\nmore easily have believed in his forgiveness; and because his pity was\nstirred for these men, who recognised that they were so completely in\nthe power of their younger brother. Joseph had passed through severe\nconflicts of feeling about them, had been at great expense both of\nemotion and of outward good on their account, had risked his position in\norder to be able to serve them, and here is his reward! They supposed he\nhad been but biding his time, that his apparent forgetfulness of their\ninjury had been the crafty restraint of a deep-seated resentment; or, at\nbest, that he had been unconsciously influenced by regard for his\nfather, and now, when that influence was removed, the helpless condition\nof his brethren might tempt him to retaliate. This exhibition of a\ncraven and suspicious spirit is unexpected, and must have been\nprofoundly saddening to Joseph. Yet here, as elsewhere, he is\nmagnanimous. Pity for them turns his thoughts from the injustice done to\nhimself. He comforts them, and speaks kindly to them, saying, Fear ye\nnot; I will nourish you and your little ones.\n\nMany painful thoughts must have been suggested to Joseph by this\nconduct. If, after all he had done for his brethren, they had not yet\nlearned to love him, but met his kindness with suspicion, was it not\nprobable that underneath his apparent popularity with the Egyptians\nthere might lie envy, or the cold acknowledgment that falls far short of\nlove? This sudden disclosure of the real feeling of his brethren towards\nhim must necessarily have made him uneasy about his other friendships.\nDid every one merely make use of him, and did no one give him pure love\nfor his own sake? The people he had saved from famine, was there one of\nthem that regarded him with anything resembling personal affection?\nDistrust seemed to pursue Joseph from first to last. First his own\nfamily misunderstood and persecuted him. Then his Egyptian master had\nreturned his devoted service with suspicion and imprisonment. And now\nagain, after sufficient time for testing his character might seem to\nhave elapsed, he was still looked upon with distrust by those who of all\nothers had best reason to believe in him. But though Joseph had through\nall his life been thus conversant with suspicion, cruelty, falsehood,\ningratitude, and blindness, though he seemed doomed to be always\nmisread, and to have his best deeds made the ground of accusation\nagainst him, he remained not merely unsoured, but equally ready as ever\nto be of service to all. The finest natures may be disconcerted and\ndeadened by universal distrust; characters not naturally unamiable are\nsometimes embittered by suspicion; and persons who are in the main\nhigh-minded do stoop, when stung by such treatment, to rail at the\nworld, or to question all generous emotion, steadfast friendship, or\nunimpeachable integrity. In Joseph there is nothing of this. If ever man\nhad a right to complain of being unappreciated, it was he; if ever man\nwas tempted to give up making sacrifices for his relatives, it was he.\nBut through all this he bore himself with manly generosity, with simple\nand persistent faith, with a dignified respect for himself and for other\nmen. In the ingratitude and injustice he had to endure, he only found\nopportunity for a deeper unselfishness, a more God-like forbearance. And\nthat such may be the outcome of the sorest parts of human experience we\nhave one day or other need to remember. When our good is evil spoken of,\nour motives suspected, our most sincere sacrifices scrutinized by an\nignorant and malicious spirit, our most substantial and well-judged acts\nof kindness received with suspicion, and the love that is in them quite\nrejected, it is then we have opportunity to show that to us belongs the\nChristian temper that can pardon till seventy times seven, and that can\npersist in loving where love meets no response, and benefits provoke no\ngratitude.\n\nHow Joseph spent the years which succeeded the famine we have no means\nof knowing; but the closing act of his life seemed to the narrator so\nsignificant as to be worthy of record. \"Joseph said unto his brethren, I\ndie: and God will surely visit you, and bring you out of this land unto\nthe land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. And Joseph\ntook an oath of the children of Israel, saying, God will surely visit\nyou, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence.\" The Egyptians must have\nchiefly been struck by the simplicity of character which this request\nbetokened. To the great benefactors of our country, the highest award is\nreserved to be given after death. So long as a man lives, some rude\nstroke of fortune or some disastrous error of his own may blast his\nfame; but when his bones are laid with those who have served their\ncountry best, a seal is set on his life, and a sentence pronounced which\nthe revision of posterity rarely revokes. Such honours were customary\namong the Egyptians; it is from their tombs that their history can now\nbe written. And to none were such honours more accessible than to\nJoseph. But after a life in the service of the state he retains the\nsimplicity of the Hebrew lad. With the magnanimity of a great and pure\nsoul, he passed uncontaminated through the flatteries and temptations of\ncourt-life; and, like Moses, \"esteemed the reproach of Christ greater\nriches than the treasures of Egypt.\" He has not indulged in any\naffectation of simplicity, nor has he, in the pride that apes humility,\ndeclined the ordinary honours due to a man in his position. He wears\nthe badges of office, the robe and the gold necklace, but these things\ndo not reach his spirit. He has lived in a region in which such honours\nmake no deep impression; and in his death he shows where his heart has\nbeen. The small voice of God, spoken centuries ago to his forefathers,\ndeafens him to the loud acclaim with which the people do him homage.\n\nBy later generations this dying request of Joseph's was looked upon as\none of the most remarkable instances of faith. For many years there had\nbeen no new revelation. The rising generations that had seen no man with\nwhom God had spoken, were little interested in the land which was said\nto be theirs, but which they very well knew was infested by fierce\ntribes who, on at least one occasion during this period, inflicted\ndisastrous defeat on one of the boldest of their own tribes. They were,\nbesides, extremely attached to the country of their adoption; they\nluxuriated in its fertile meadows and teeming gardens, which kept them\nsupplied at little cost of labour with delicacies unknown on the hills\nof Canaan. This oath, therefore, which Joseph made them swear, may have\nrevived the drooping hopes of the small remnant who had any of his own\nspirit. They saw that he, their most sagacious man, lived and died in\nfull assurance that God would visit His people. And through all the\nterrible bondage they were destined to suffer, the bones of Joseph, or\nrather his embalmed body, stood as the most eloquent advocate of God's\nfaithfulness, ceaselessly reminding the despondent generations of the\noath which God would yet enable them to fulfil. As often as they felt\ninclined to give up all hope and the last surviving Israelitish\npeculiarity, there was the unburied coffin remonstrating; Joseph still,\neven when dead, refusing to let his dust mingle with Egyptian earth.\n\nAnd thus, as Joseph had been their pioneer who broke out a way for them\ninto Egypt, so did he continue to hold open the gate and point the way\nback to Canaan. The brethren had sold him into this foreign land,\nmeaning to bury him for ever; he retaliated by requiring that the tribes\nshould restore him to the land from which he had been expelled. Few men\nhave opportunity of showing so noble a revenge; fewer still, having the\nopportunity, would so have used it. Jacob had been carried up to Canaan\nas soon as he was dead: Joseph declines this exceptional treatment, and\nprefers to share the fortunes of his brethren, and will then only enter\non the promised land when all his people can go with him. As in life, so\nin death, he took a large view of things, and had no feeling that the\nworld ended in him. His career had taught him to consider national\ninterests; and now, on his death-bed, it is from the point of view of\nhis people that he looks at the future.\n\nSeveral passages in the life of Joseph have shown us that where the\nSpirit of Christ is present, many parts of the conduct will suggest, if\nthey do not actually resemble, acts in the life of Christ. The attitude\ntowards the future in which Joseph sets his people as he leaves them,\ncan scarcely fail to suggest the attitude which Christians are called to\nassume. The prospect which the Hebrews had of fulfilling their oath grew\nincreasingly faint, but the difficulties in the way of its performance\nmust only have made them more clearly see that they depended on God for\nentrance on the promised inheritance. And so may the difficulty of our\nduties as Christ's followers measure for us the amount of grace God has\nprovided for us. The commands that make you sensible of your weakness,\nand bring to light more clearly than ever how unfit for good you are,\nare witnesses to you that God will visit you and enable you to fulfil\nthe oath He has required you to take. The children of Israel could not\nsuppose that a man so wise as Joseph had ended his life with a childish\nfolly, when he made them swear this oath, and could not but renew their\nhope that the day would come when his wisdom would be justified by their\nability to discharge it. Neither ought it to be beyond our belief that,\nin requiring from us such and such conduct, our Lord has kept in view\nour actual condition and its possibilities, and that His commands are\nour best guide towards a state of permanent felicity. He that aims\nalways at the performance of the oath he has taken, will assuredly find\nthat God will not stultify Himself by failing to support him.\n\n\n\n\nXXXI.\n\n_THE BLESSINGS OF THE TRIBES._\n\nGENESIS xlviii. and xlix.\n\n\nJacob's blessing of his sons marks the close of the patriarchal\ndispensation. Henceforth the channel of God's blessing to man does not\nconsist of one person only, but of a people or nation. It is still _one\nseed_, as Paul reminds us, a unit that God will bless, but this unit is\nnow no longer a single person--as Abraham, Isaac, or Jacob--but one\npeople, composed of several parts, and yet one whole; equally\nrepresentative of Christ, as the patriarchs were, and of equal effect\nevery way in receiving God's blessing and handing it down until Christ\ncame. The Old Testament Church, quite as truly as the New, formed one\nwhole with Christ. Apart from Him it had no meaning, and would have had\nno existence. It was the promised seed, always growing more and more to\nits perfect development in Christ. As the promise was kept to Abraham\nwhen Isaac was born, and as Isaac was truly the promised seed--in so far\nas he was a part of the series that led on to Christ, and was given in\nfulfilment of the promise that promised Christ to the world--so all\nthrough the history of Israel we must bear in mind that in them God is\nfulfilling this same promise, and that they are the promised seed in so\nfar as they are one with Christ. And this interprets to us all those\npassages of the prophets regarding which men have disputed whether they\nare to be applied to Israel or to Christ: passages in which God\naddresses Israel in such words as, \"Behold My servant,\" \"Mine elect,\"\nand so forth, and in the interpretation of which it has been thought\nsufficient proof that they do not apply to Christ, to prove that they do\napply to Israel; whereas, on the principle just laid down, it might much\nmore safely be argued that because they apply to Israel, therefore they\napply to Christ. And it is at this point--where Israel distributes among\nhis sons the blessing which heretofore had all lodged in himself--that\nwe see the first multiplication of Christ's representatives; the\nmediation going on no longer through individuals, but through a nation;\nand where individuals are still chosen by God, as commonly they are, for\nthe conveyance of God's communications to earth, these individuals,\nwhether priests or prophets, are themselves but the official\nrepresentatives of the nation.\n\nAs the patriarchal dispensation ceases, it secures to the tribes all the\nblessing it has itself contained. Every father desires to leave to his\nsons whatever he has himself found helpful, but as they gather round his\ndying bed, or as he sits setting his house in order, and considering\nwhat portion is appropriate for each, he recognises that to some of them\nit is quite useless to bequeath the most valuable parts of his property,\nwhile in others he discerns a capacity which promises the improvement of\nall that is entrusted to it. And from the earliest times the various\ncharacters of the tribes were destined to modify the blessing conveyed\nto them by their father. The blessing of Israel is now distributed, and\neach receives what each can take; and while in some of the individual\ntribes there may seem to be very little of blessing at all, yet, taken\ntogether, they form a picture of the common outstanding features of\nhuman nature, and of that nature as acted upon by God's blessing, and\nforming together one body or Church. A peculiar interest attaches to the\nhistory of some nations, and is not altogether absent from our own, from\nthe precision with which we can trace the character of families,\ndescending often with the same unmistakable lineaments from father to\nson for many generations.[2] One knows at once to what families to look\nfor restless and turbulent spirits, ready for conspiracy and revolution;\nand one knows also where to seek steady and faithful loyalty,\npublic-spiritedness, or native ability. And in Israel's national\ncharacter there was room for the great distinguishing features of the\ntribes, and to show the richness and variety with which the promise of\nGod could fulfil itself wherever it was received. The distinguishing\nfeatures which Jacob depicts in the blessings of his sons are\nnecessarily veiled under the poetic figures of prophecy, and spoken of\nas they would reveal themselves in worldly matters; but these features\nwere found in all the generations of the tribes, and displayed\nthemselves in things spiritual also. For a man has not two characters,\nbut one; and what he is in the world, that he is in his religion. In our\nown country, it is seen how the forms of worship, and even the doctrines\nbelieved, and certainly the modes of religious thought and feeling,\ndepend on the natural character, and the natural character on the local\nsituation of the respective sections of the community. No doubt in a\ncountry like ours, where men so constantly migrate from place to place,\nand where one common literature tends to mould us all to the same way of\nthinking, you do get men of all kinds in every place; yet even among\nourselves the character of a place is generally still visible, and\npredominates over all that mingles with it. Much more must this\ncharacter have been retained in a country where each man could trace his\nancestry up to the father of the tribe, and cultivated with pride the\nfamily characteristics, and had but little intercourse, either literary\nor personal, with other minds and other manners. As we know by dialect\nand by the manners of the people when we pass into a new country, so\nmust the Israelite have known by the eye and ear when he had crossed the\ncounty frontier, when he was conversing with a Benjamite, and when with\na descendant of Judah. We are not therefore to suppose that any of these\nutterances of Jacob are mere geographical predictions, or that they\ndepict characteristics which might appear in civil life, but not in\nreligion and the Church, or that they would die out with the first\ngeneration.\n\nIn these blessings, therefore, we have the history of the Church in its\nmost interesting form. In these sons gathered round him, the patriarch\nsees his own nature reflected piece by piece, and he sees also the\ngeneral outline of all that must be produced by such natures as these\nmen have. The whole destiny of Israel is here in germ, and the spirit of\nprophecy in Jacob sees and declares it. It has often been remarked[3]\nthat as a man draws near to death, he seems to see many things in a much\nclearer light, and especially gets glimpses into the future, which are\nhidden from others.\n\n    \"The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,\n    Lets in new light through chinks that time hath made.\"\n\nBeing nearer to eternity, he instinctively measures things by its\nstandard, and thus comes nearer a just valuation of all things before\nhis mind, and can better distinguish reality from appearance. Jacob has\nstudied these sons of his for fifty years, and has had his acute\nperception of character painfully enough called to exercise itself on\nthem. He has all his life long had a liking for analysing men's inner\nlife, knowing that, when he understands that, he can better use them for\nhis own ends; and these sons of his own have cost him thought enough\nover and above that sometimes penetrating interest which a father will\ntake in the growth of a son's character; and now he knows them\nthoroughly, understands their temptations, their weaknesses, their\ncapabilities, and, as a wise head of a house, can, with delicate and\nunnoticed skill, balance the one against the other, ward off awkward\ncollisions, and prevent the evil from destroying the good. This\nknowledge of Jacob prepares him for being the intelligent agent by whom\nGod predicts in outline the future of His Church.\n\nOne cannot but admire, too, the faith which enables Jacob to apportion\nto his sons the blessings of a land which had not been much of a\nresting-place to himself, and regarding the occupation of which his sons\nmight have put to him some very difficult questions. And we admire this\ndignified faith the more on reflecting that it has often been very\ngrievously lacking in our own case--that we have felt almost ashamed of\nhaving so little of a present tangible kind to offer, and of being\nobliged to speak only of invisible and future blessings; to set a\nspiritual consolation over against a worldly grief; to point a man\nwhose fortunes are ruined to an eternal inheritance; or to speak to one\nwho knows himself quite in the power of sin of a remedy which has often\nseemed illusory to ourselves. Some of us have got so little comfort or\nstrength from religion ourselves, that we have no heart to offer it to\nothers; and most of us have a feeling that we should seem to trifle were\nwe to offer invisible aid against very visible calamity. At least we\nfeel that we are doing a daring thing in making such an offer, and can\nscarce get over the desire that we had something to speak of which sight\ncould appreciate, and which did not require the exercise of faith. Again\nand again the wish rises within us that to the sick man we could bring\nhealth as well as the promise of forgiveness, and that to the poor we\ncould grant an earthly, while we make known a heavenly, inheritance. One\nwho has experienced these scruples, and known how hard it is to get rid\nof them, will know also how to honour the faith of Jacob, by which he\nassumes the right to bless Pharaoh--though he is himself a mere\nsojourner by sufferance in Pharaoh's land, and living on his bounty--and\nby which he gathers his children round him and portions out to them a\nland which seemed to have been most barren to himself, and which now\nseemed quite beyond his reach. The enjoyments of it, which he himself\nhad not very deeply tasted, he yet knew were real; and if there were a\nlook of scepticism, or of scorn, on the face of any one of his sons; if\nthe unbelief of any received the prophetic utterances as the ravings of\ndelirium, or the fancies of an imbecile and worn-out mind going back to\nthe scenes of its youth, in Jacob himself there was so simple and\nunsuspecting a faith in God's promise, that he dealt with the land as if\nit were the only portion worth bequeathing to his sons, as if every\nCanaanite were already cast out of it, and as if he knew his sons could\nnever be tempted by the wealth of Egypt to turn with contempt from the\nland of promise. And if we would attain to this boldness of his, and be\nable to speak of spiritual and future blessings as very substantial and\nvaluable, we must ourselves learn to make much of God's promise, and\nleave no taint of unbelief in our reception of it.\n\nAnd often we are rebuked by finding that when we do offer things\nspiritual, even those who are wrapped in earthly comforts appreciate and\naccept the better gifts. So it was in Joseph's case. No doubt the\nhighest posts in Egypt were open to his sons; they might have been\nnaturalised, as he himself had been, and, throwing in their lot with the\nland of their adoption, might have turned to their advantage the rank\ntheir father held, and the reputation he had earned. But Joseph turns\nfrom this attractive prospect, brings them to his father, and hands them\nover to the despised shepherd-life of Israel. One need scarcely point\nout how great a sacrifice this was on Joseph's part. So universally\nacknowledged and legitimate a desire is it to pass to one's children the\nhonour achieved by a life of exertion, that states have no higher\nrewards to confer on their most useful servants than a title which their\ndescendants may wear. But Joseph would not suffer his children to risk\nthe loss of their share in God's peculiar blessing, not for the most\npromising openings in life, or the highest civil honours. If the\nthoroughly open identification of them with the shepherds, and their\nprofession of a belief in a distant inheritance, which must have made\nthem appear madmen in the eyes of the Egyptians, if this was to cut\nthem off from worldly advancement, Joseph was not careful of this, for\nresolved he was that, at any cost, they should be among God's people.\nAnd his faith received its reward; the two tribes that sprang from him\nreceived about as large a portion of the promised land as fell to the\nlot of all the other tribes put together.\n\nYou will observe that Ephraim and Manasseh were adopted as sons of\nJacob. Jacob tells Joseph, \"They shall be mine,\" not my grandsons, but\nas Reuben and Simeon. No other sons whom Joseph might have were to be\nreceived into this honour, but these two were to take their place on a\nlevel with their uncles as heads of tribes, so that Joseph is\nrepresented through the whole history by the two populous and powerful\ntribes of Ephraim and Manasseh. No greater honour could have been put on\nJoseph, nor any more distinct and lasting recognition made of the\nindebtedness of his family to him, and of how he had been as a father\nbringing new life to his brethren, than this, that his sons should be\nraised to the rank of heads of tribes, on a level with the immediate\nsons of Jacob. And no higher honour could have been put on the two lads\nthemselves than that they should thus be treated as if they were their\nfather Joseph--as if they had his worth and his rank. He is merged in\nthem, and all that he has earned is, throughout the history, to be\nfound, not in his own name, but in theirs. It all proceeds from him; but\nhis enjoyment is found in their enjoyment, his worth acknowledged in\ntheir fruitfulness. Thus did God familiarise the Jewish mind through its\nwhole history with the idea, if they chose to think and have ideas, of\nadoption, and of an adoption of a peculiar kind, of an adoption where\nalready there was an heir who, by this adoption, has his name and worth\nmerged in the persons now received into his place. Ephraim and Manasseh\nwere not received alongside of Joseph, but each received what Joseph\nhimself might have had, and Joseph's name as a tribe was henceforth only\nto be found in these two. This idea was fixed in such a way, that for\ncenturies it was steeping into the minds of men, so that they might not\nbe astonished if God should in some other case, say the case of His own\nSon, adopt men into the rank He held, and let His estimate of the worth\nof His Son, and the honour He puts upon Him, be seen in the adopted.\nThis being so, we need not be alarmed if men tell us that imputation is\na mere legal fiction, or human invention; a legal fiction it may be, but\nin the case before us it was the never-disputed foundation of very\nsubstantial blessings to Ephraim and Manasseh; and we plead for nothing\nmore than that God would act with us as here He did act with these two,\nthat He would make us His direct heirs, make us His own sons, and give\nus what He who presents us to Him to receive His blessing did earn, and\nmerits at the Father's hand.\n\nWe meet with these crossed hands of blessing frequently in Scripture;\nthe younger son blessed above the elder--as was needful, lest grace\nshould become confounded with nature, and the belief gradually grow up\nin men's minds that natural effects could never be overcome by grace,\nand that in every respect grace waited upon nature. And these crossed\nhands we meet still; for how often does God quite reverse _our_ order,\nand bless most that about which we had less concern, and seem to put a\nslight on that which has engrossed our best affection. It is so, often\nin precisely the way in which Joseph found it so; the son whose youth\nis most anxiously cared for, to whom the interests of the younger\nmembers of the family are sacrificed, and who is commended to God\ncontinually to receive His right-hand blessing, this son seems neither\nto receive nor to dispense much blessing; but the younger, less thought\nof, left to work his own way, is favoured by God, and becomes the\ncomfort and support of his parents when the elder has failed of his\nduty. And in the case of much that we hold dear, the same rule is seen;\na pursuit we wish to be successful in we can make little of, and are\nthrown back from continually, while something else into which we have\nthrown ourselves almost accidentally prospers in our hand and blesses\nus. Again and again, for years together, we put forward some cherished\ndesire to God's right hand, and are displeased, like Joseph, that still\nthe hand of greater blessing should pass to some other thing. Does God\nnot know what is oldest with us, what has been longest at our hearts,\nand is dearest to us? Certainly He does: \"I know it, My son, I know it,\"\nHe answers to all our expostulations. It is not because He does not\nunderstand or regard your predilections, your natural and excusable\npreferences, that He sometimes refuses to gratify your whole desire, and\npours upon you blessings of a kind somewhat different from these you\nmost earnestly covet. He will give you the whole that Christ hath\nmerited; but for the application and distribution of that grace and\nblessing you must be content to trust Him. You may be at a loss to know\nwhy He does no more to deliver you from some sin, or why He does not\nmake you more successful in your efforts to aid others, or why, while He\nso liberally prospers you in one part of your condition, you get so much\nless in another that is far nearer your heart; but God does what He\nwill with His own, and if you do not find in one point the whole\nblessing and prosperity you think should flow from such a Mediator as\nyou have, you may only conclude that what is lacking there will\nelsewhere be found more wisely bestowed. And is it not a perpetual\nencouragement to us that God does not merely crown what nature has\nsuccessfully begun, that it is not the likely and the naturally good\nthat are most blessed, but that God hath chosen the foolish things of\nthe world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to\nconfound the things that are mighty; and base things of the world and\nthings which are despised hath God chosen, yea, and things which are\nnot, to bring to nought things that are?\n\nIn Reuben, the first-born, conscience must have been sadly at war with\nhope as he looked at the blind, but expressive, face of his father. He\nmay have hoped that his sin had not been severely thought of by his\nfather, or that the father's pride in his first-born would prompt him to\nhide, though it could not make him forget it. Probably the gross offence\nhad not been made known to the family. At least, the words \"he went up\"\nmay be understood as addressed in explanation to the brethren. It may\nindeed have been that the blind old man, forcibly recalling the\nlong-past transgression, is here uttering a mournful, regretful\nsoliloquy, rather than addressing any one. It may be that these words\nwere uttered to himself as he went back upon the one deed that had\ndisclosed to him his son's real character, and rudely hurled to the\nground all the hopes he had built up for his first-born. Yet there is no\nreason to suppose, on the other hand, that the sin had been previously\nknown or alluded to in the family. Reuben's hasty, passionate nature\ncould not understand that if Jacob had felt that sin of his deeply, he\nshould not have shown his resentment; he had stunned his father with the\nheavy blow, and because he did not cry out and strike him in return, he\nthought him little hurt. So do shallow natures tremble for a night after\ntheir sin, and when they find that the sun rises and men greet them as\ncordially as before, and that no hand lays hold on them from the past,\nthey think little more of their sin--do not understand that fatal calm\nthat precedes the storm. Had the memory of Reuben's sin survived in\nJacob's mind all the sad events that had since happened, and all the\nstirring incidents of the emigration and the new life in Egypt? Could\nhis father at the last hour, and after so many thronged years, and\nbefore his brethren, recall the old sin? He is relieved and confirmed in\nhis confidence by the first words of Jacob, words ascribing to him his\nnatural position, a certain conspicuous dignity too, and power such as\none may often see produced in men by occupying positions of authority,\nthough in their own character there be weakness. But all the excellence\nthat Jacob ascribes to Reuben serves only to embitter the doom\npronounced upon him. Men seem often to expect that a future can be\n_given_ to them irrespective of what they themselves are, that a series\nof blessings and events might be prepared for them, and made over to\nthem; whereas every man's future must be made by himself, and is already\nin great part formed by the past. It was a vain expectation of Reuben to\nexpect that he, the impetuous, unstable, superficial son, could have the\nfuture of a deep, and earnest, and dutiful nature, or that his children\nshould derive no taint from their parent, but be as the children of\nJoseph. No man's future need be altogether a doom to him, for God may\nbless to him the evil fruit his life has borne; but certainly no man\nneed look for a future which has no relation to his own character. His\nfuture will always be made up of _his_ deeds, _his_ feelings, and the\ncircumstances which _his_ desires have brought him into.\n\nThe future of Reuben was of a negative, blank kind--\"Thou shalt _not_\nexcel;\" his unstable character must empty it of all great success. And\nto many a heart since have these words struck a chill, for to many they\nare as a mirror suddenly held up before them. They see themselves when\nthey look on the tossing sea, rising and pointing to the heavens with\nmuch noise, but only to sink back again to the same everlasting level.\nMen of brilliant parts and great capacity are continually seen to be\nlost to society by instability of purpose. Would they only pursue one\ndirection, and concentrate their energies on one subject, they might\nbecome true heirs of promise, blessed and blessing; but they seem to\nlose relish for every pursuit on the first taste of success--all their\nenergy seems to have boiled over and evaporated in the first glow, and\nsinks as the water that has just been noisily boiling when the fire is\nwithdrawn from under it. No impression made upon them is permanent: like\nwater, they are plastic, easily impressible, but utterly incapable of\nretaining an impression; and therefore, like water, they have a downward\ntendency, or at the best are but retained in their place by pressure\nfrom without, and have no eternal power of growth. And the misery of\nthis character is often increased by the _desire_ to excel which\ncommonly accompanies instability. It is generally this very desire which\nprompts a man to hurry from one aim to another, to give up one path to\nexcellence when he sees that other men are making way upon another:\nhaving no internal convictions of his own, he is guided mostly by the\nsuccesses of other men, the most dangerous of all guides. So that such a\nman has all the bitterness of an eager desire doomed never to be\nsatisfied. Conscious to himself of capacity for something, feeling in\nhim the excellency of power, and having that \"excellency of dignity,\" or\ngraceful and princely refinement, which the knowledge of many things,\nand intercourse with many kinds of people, have imparted to him, he\nfeels all the more that pervading weakness, that greedy, lustful craving\nfor all kinds of priority, and for enjoying all the various advantages\nwhich other men severally enjoy, which will not let him finally choose\nand adhere to his own line of things, but distracts him by a thousand\npurposes which ever defeat one another.[4]\n\nThe sin of the next oldest sons was also remembered against them, and\nremembered apparently for the same reason--because the character was\nexpressed in it. The massacre of the Shechemites was not an accidental\noutrage that any other of the sons of Jacob might equally have\nperpetrated, but the most glaring of a number of expressions of a fierce\nand cruel disposition in these two men. In Jacob's prediction of their\nfuture, he seems to shrink with horror from his own progeny--like her\nwho dreamt she would give birth to a firebrand. He sees the possibility\nof the direst results flowing from such a temper, and, under God,\nprovides against these by scattering the tribes, and thus weakening\ntheir power for evil. They had been banded together so as the more\neasily and securely to accomplish their murderous purposes. \"Simeon and\nLevi are brethren\"--showing a close affinity, and seeking one another's\nsociety and aid, but it is for bad purposes; and therefore they must be\ndivided in Jacob and scattered in Israel. This was accomplished by the\ntribe of Levi being distributed over all the other tribes as the\nministers of religion. The fiery zeal, the bold independence, and the\npride of being a distinct people, which had been displayed in the\nslaughter of the Shechemites, might be toned down and turned to good\naccount when the sword was taken out of their hand. Qualities such as\nthese, which produce the most disastrous results when fit instruments\ncan be found, and when men of like disposition are suffered to band\nthemselves together, may, when found in the individual and kept in check\nby circumstances and dissimilar dispositions, be highly beneficial.\n\nIn the sin, Levi seems to have been the moving spirit, Simeon the\nabetting tool, and in the punishment, it is the more dangerous tribe\nthat is scattered, so that the other is left companionless. In the\nblessings of Moses, the tribe of Simeon is passed over in silence; and\nthat the tribe of Levi should have been so used for God's immediate\nservice stands as evidence that punishments, however severe and\ndesolating, even threatening something bordering on extinction, may yet\nbecome blessings to God's people. The sword of murder was displaced in\nLevi's hand by the knife of sacrifice; their fierce revenge against\nsinners was converted into hostility against sin; their apparent zeal\nfor the forms of their religion was consecrated to the service of the\ntabernacle and temple; their fanatical pride, which prompted them to\ntreat all other people as the offscouring of the earth, was informed by\na better spirit, and used for the upbuilding and instruction of the\npeople of Israel. In order to understand why this tribe, of all others,\nshould have been chosen for the service of the sanctuary and for the\ninstruction of the people, we must not only recognise how their being\nscattered in punishment of their sin over all the land fitted them to be\nthe educators of the nation and the representatives of all the tribes,\nbut also we must consider that the sin itself which Levi had committed\nbroke the one command which men had up till this time received from the\nmouth of God; no law had as yet been published but that which had been\ngiven to Noah and his sons regarding bloodshed, and which was given in\ncircumstances so appalling, and with sanctions so emphatic, that it\nmight ever have rung in men's ears, and stayed the hand of the murderer.\nIn saying, \"At the hand of every man's brother will I require the life\nof man,\" God had shown that human life was to be counted sacred. He\nHimself had swept the race from the face of the earth, but adding this\ncommand immediately after, He showed all the more forcibly that\npunishment was His own prerogative, and that none but those appointed by\nHim might shed blood--\"Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord.\" To take\nprivate revenge, as Levi did, was to take the sword out of God's hand,\nand to say that God was not careful enough of justice, and but a poor\nguardian of right and wrong in the world; and to destroy human life in\nthe wanton and cruel manner in which Levi had destroyed the Shechemites,\nand to do it under colour and by the aid of religious zeal, was to God\nthe most hateful of sins. But none can know the hatefulness of a sin so\ndistinctly as he who has fallen into it, and is enduring the punishment\nof it penitently and graciously, and therefore Levi was of all others\nthe best fitted to be entrusted with those sacrificial symbols which set\nforth the value of all human life, and especially of the life of God's\nown Son. Very humbling must it have been for the Levite who remembered\nthe history of his tribe to be used by God as the hand of His justice on\nthe victims that were brought in substitution for that which was so\nprecious in the sight of God.\n\nThe blessing of Judah is at once the most important and the most\ndifficult to interpret in the series. There is enough in the history of\nJudah himself, and there is enough in the subsequent history of the\ntribe, to justify the ascription to him of all lion-like qualities--a\nkingly fearlessness, confidence, power, and success; in action a\nrapidity of movement and might that make him irresistible, and in repose\na majestic dignity of bearing. As the serpent is the cognisance of Dan,\nthe wolf of Benjamin, the hind of Naphtali, so is the lion of the tribe\nof Judah. He scorns to gain his end by a serpentine craft, and is\nhimself easily taken in; he does not ravin like a wolf, merely\nplundering for the sake of booty, but gives freely and generously, even\nto the sacrifice of his own person: nor has he the mere graceful and\nineffective swiftness of the hind, but the rushing onset of the lion--a\ncharacter which, more than any other, men reverence and admire--\"Judah,\n_thou_ art he whom thy brethren shall praise\"--and a character which,\nmore than any other, fits a man to take the lead and rule. If there were\nto be kings in Israel, there could be little doubt from which tribe they\ncould best be chosen; a wolf of the tribe of Benjamin, like Saul, not\nonly hung on the rear of retreating Philistines and spoiled them, but\nmade a prey of his own people, and it is in David we find the true king,\nthe man who more than any other satisfies men's ideal of the prince to\nwhom they will pay homage;--falling indeed into grievous error and sin,\nlike his forefather, but, like him also, right at heart, so generous and\nself-sacrificing that men served him with the most devoted loyalty, and\nwere willing rather to dwell in caves with him than in palaces with any\nother.\n\nThe kingly supremacy of Judah was here spoken of in words which have\nbeen the subject of as prolonged and violent contention as any others in\nthe Word of God. \"The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a\nlawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh come.\" These words are very\ngenerally understood to mean that Judah's supremacy would continue until\nit culminated or flowered into the personal reign of Shiloh; in other\nwords, that Judah's sovereignty was to be perpetuated in the person of\nJesus Christ. So that this prediction is but the first whisper of that\nwhich was afterwards so distinctly declared, that David's seed should\nsit on the throne for ever and ever. It was not accomplished in the\nletter, any more than the promise to David was; the tribe of Judah\ncannot in any intelligible sense be said to have had rulers of her own\nup to the coming of Christ, or for some centuries previous to that date.\nFor those who would quickly judge God and His promise by what they could\nsee in their own day, there was enough to provoke them to challenge God\nfor forgetting His promise. But in due time _the_ King of men, He to\nwhom all nations have gathered, did spring from this tribe; and need it\nbe said that the very fact of His appearance proved that the supremacy\nhad not departed from Judah? This prediction, then, partook of the\ncharacter of very many of the Old Testament prophecies; there was\nsufficient fulfilment in the letter to seal, as it were, the promise,\nand give men a token that it was being accomplished, and yet so\nmysterious a falling short, as to cause men to look beyond the literal\nfulfilment, on which alone their hopes had at first rested, to some far\nhigher and more perfect spiritual fulfilment.\n\nBut not only has it been objected that the sceptre departed from Judah\nlong before Christ came, and that therefore the word Shiloh cannot refer\nto Him, but also it has been truly said that wherever else the word\noccurs it is the name of a town--that town, viz., where the ark for a\nlong time was stationed, and from which the allotment of territory was\nmade to the various tribes; and the prediction has been supposed to mean\nthat Judah should be the leading tribe till the land was entered. Many\nobjections to this naturally occur, and need not be stated. But it comes\nto be an inquiry of some interest, How much information regarding a\npersonal Messiah did the brethren receive from this prophecy? A question\nvery difficult indeed to answer. The word Shiloh means \"peace-making,\"\nand if they understood this as a proper name, they must have thought of\na person such as Isaiah designates as the Prince of Peace--a name it was\nsimilar to that wherewith David called his son Solomon, in the\nexpectation that the results of his own lifetime of disorder and battle\nwould be reaped by his successor in a peaceful and prosperous reign. It\ncan scarcely be thought likely, indeed, that this single term \"Shiloh,\"\nwhich might be applied to many things besides a person, should give to\nthe sons of Jacob any distinct idea of a personal Deliverer; but it\nmight be sufficient to keep before their eyes, and specially before the\ntribe of Judah, that the aim and consummation of all lawgiving and\nruling was peace. And there was certainly contained in this blessing an\nassurance that the purpose of Judah would not be accomplished, and\ntherefore that the existence of Judah as a tribe would not terminate,\nuntil peace had been through its means brought into the world: thus was\nthe assurance given, that the productive power of Judah should not fail\nuntil out of that tribe there had sprung that which should give peace.\n\nBut to us who have seen the prediction accomplished, it plainly enough\npoints to _the_ Lion of the tribe of Judah, who in His own person\ncombined all kingly qualities. In Him we are taught by this prediction\nto discover once more the single Person who stands out on the page of\nthis world's history as satisfying men's ideal of what their King should\nbe, and of how the race should be represented;--the One who without any\nrival stands in the mind's eye as that for which the best hopes of men\nwere waiting, still feeling that the race could do more than it had\ndone, and never satisfied but in Him.\n\nZebulun, the sixth and last of Leah's sons, was so called because said\nLeah, \"Now will my husband _dwell with me_\" (such being the meaning of\nthe name), \"for I have borne him six sons.\" All that is predicted\nregarding this tribe is that his _dwelling_ should be by the sea, and\nnear the Ph[oe]nician city Zidon. This is not to be taken as a strict\ngeographical definition of the tract of country occupied by Zebulun, as\nwe see when we compare it with the lot assigned to it and marked out in\nthe Book of Joshua; but though the border of the tribe did not reach to\nZidon, and though it can only have been a mere tongue of land belonging\nto it that ran down to the Mediterranean shore, yet the situation\nascribed to it is true to its character as a tribe that had commercial\nrelations with the Ph[oe]nicians, and was of a decidedly mercantile\nturn. We find this same feature indicated in the blessing of Moses:\n\"Rejoice, Zebulun, in thy _going out_, and Issachar in thy\ntents\"--Zebulun having the enterprise of a seafaring community, and\nIssachar the quiet bucolic contentment of an agricultural or pastoral\npopulation: Zebulun always restlessly eager for emigration or commerce,\nfor _going out_ of one kind or other; Issachar satisfied to live and die\nin his own tents. It is still, therefore, character rather than\ngeographical position that is here spoken of--though it is a trait of\ncharacter that is peculiarly dependent on geographical position: we, for\nexample, because islanders, having become the maritime power and the\nmerchants of the world; not being shut off from other nations by the\nencompassing sea, but finding paths by it equally in all directions\nready provided for every kind of traffic.\n\nZebulun, then, was to represent the commerce of Israel, its _outgoing_\ntendency; was to supply a means of communication and bond of connection\nwith the world outside, so that through it might be conveyed to the\nnations what was saving in Israel, and that what Israel needed from\nother lands might also find entrance. In the Church also, this is a\nneedful quality: for our well-being there must ever exist among us those\nwho are not afraid to launch on the wide and pathless sea of opinion;\nthose in whose ears its waves have from their childhood sounded with a\nfascinating invitation, and who at last, as if possessed by some spirit\nof unrest, loose from the firm earth, and go in quest of lands not yet\ndiscovered, or are impelled to see for themselves what till now they\nhave believed on the testimony of others. It is not for all men to quit\nthe shore, and risk themselves in the miseries and disasters of so\ncomfortless and hazardous a life; but happy the people which possesses,\nfrom one generation to another, men who must see with their own eyes,\nand to whose restless nature the discomforts and dangers of an unsettled\nlife have a charm. It is not the instability of Reuben that we have in\nthese men, but the irrepressible longing of the born seaman, who _must_\nlift the misty veil of the horizon and penetrate its mystery. And we are\nnot to condemn, even when we know we should not imitate, men who cannot\nrest satisfied with the ground on which we stand, but venture into\nregions of speculation, of religious thought which we have never\ntrodden, and may deem hazardous. The nourishment we receive is not all\nnative-grown; there are views of truth which may very profitably be\nimported from strange and distant lands; and there is no land, no\nprovince of thought, from which we may not derive what may\nadvantageously be mixed with our own ideas; no direction in which a\nspeculative mind can go in which it may not find something which may\ngive a fresh zest to what we already use, or be a real addition to our\nknowledge. No doubt men who refuse to confine themselves to one way of\nviewing truth--men who venture to go close to persons of very different\nopinions from their own, who determine for themselves to prove all\nthings, who have no very special love for what they were native to and\noriginally taught, who show rather a taste for strange and new\nopinions--these persons live a life of great hazard, and in the end are\ngenerally, like men who have been much at sea, unsettled; they have not\nfixed opinions, and are in themselves, as individual men,\nunsatisfactory and unsatisfied; but still they have done good to the\ncommunity, by bringing to us ideas and knowledge which otherwise we\ncould not have obtained. Such men God gives us to widen our views; to\nprevent us from thinking that we have the best of everything; to bring\nus to acknowledge that others, who perhaps in the main are not so\nfavoured as ourselves, are yet possessed of some things we ourselves\nwould be the better of. And though these men must themselves necessarily\nhang loosely, scarcely attached very firmly to any part of the Church,\nlike a seafaring population, and often even with a border running very\nclose to heathenism, yet let us own that the Church has need of\nsuch--that without them the different sections of the Church would know\ntoo little of one another, and too little of the facts of this world's\nlife. And as the seafaring population of a country might be expected to\nshow less interest in the soil of their native land than others, and yet\nwe know that in point of fact we are dependent on no class of our\npopulation so much for leal patriotism, and for the defence of our\ncountry, so one has observed that the Church also must make similar use\nof her Zebuluns--of men who, by their very habit of restlessly\nconsidering all views of truth which are alien to our own ways of\nthinking, have become familiar with, and better able to defend us\nagainst, the error that mingles with these views.\n\nIssachar receives from his father a character which few would be proud\nof or would envy, but which many are very content to bear. As the strong\nass that has its stall and its provender provided can afford to let the\nfree beasts of the forest vaunt their liberty, so there is a very\nnumerous class of men who have no care to assert their dignity as human\nbeings, or to agitate regarding their rights as citizens, so long as\ntheir obscurity and servitude provide them with physical comforts, and\nleave them free of heavy responsibilities. They prefer a life of ease\nand plenty to a life of hardship and glory. They are not lazy nor idle,\nbut are quite willing to use their strength so long as they are not\noverdriven out of their sleekness. They have neither ambition nor\nenterprise, and willingly bow their shoulders to bear, and become the\nservants of those who will free them from the anxiety of planning and\nmanaging, and give them a fair and regular remuneration for their\nlabour. This is not a noble nature, but in a world in which ambition so\nfrequently runs through a thorny and difficult path to a disappointing\nand shameful end, this disposition has much to say in its own defence.\nIt will often accredit itself with unchallengeable common sense, and\nwill maintain that it alone enjoys life and gets the good of it. They\nwill tell you they are the only true utilitarians, that to be one's own\nmaster only brings cares, and that the degradation of servitude is only\nan idea; that _really_ servants are quite as well off as masters. Look\nat them: the one is as a strong, powerful, well-cared-for animal, his\nwork but a pleasant exercise to him, and when it is over never following\nhim into his rest; he eats the good of the land, and has what all seem\nto be in vain striving for, rest and contentment: the other, the master,\nhas indeed his position, but that only multiplies his duties; he has\nwealth, but that proverbially only increases his cares and the mouths\nthat are to consume it; it is _he_ who has the air of a bondsman, and\nnever, meet him when you may, seems wholly at ease and free from care.\n\nYet, after all that can be said in favour of the bargain an Issachar\nmakes, and however he may be satisfied to rest, and in a quiet, peaceful\nway enjoy life, men feel that at the best there is something despicable\nabout such a character. He gives his labour and is fed, he pays his\ntribute and is protected; but men feel that they ought to meet the\ndangers, responsibilities, and difficulties of life in their own\npersons, and at first hand, and not buy themselves off so from the\nburden of individual self-control and responsibility. The animal\nenjoyment of this life and its physical comforts may be a very good\ningredient in a national character: it might be well for Israel to have\nthis patient, docile mass of strength in its midst: it may be well for\nour country that there are among us not only men eager for the highest\nhonours and posts, but a great multitude of men perhaps equally\nserviceable and capable, but whose desires never rise beyond the\nordinary social comforts; the contentedness of such, even though\nreprehensible, tempers or balances the ambition of the others, and when\nit comes into personal contact rebukes its feverishness. They, as well\nas the other parts of society, have amidst their error a truth--the\ntruth that the ideal world in which ambition, and hope, and imagination\nlive is not everything; that the material has also a reality, and that\nthough hope does bless mankind, yet attainment is also something, even\nthough it be a little. Yet this truth is not the whole truth, and is\nonly useful as an ingredient, as a part, not as the whole; and when we\nfall from any high ideal of human life which we have formed, and begin\nto find comfort and rest in the mere physical good things of this world,\nwe may well despise ourselves. There is a pleasantness still in the land\nthat appeals to us all; a luxury in observing the risks and struggles\nof others while ourselves secure and at rest; a desire to make life\neasy, and to shirk the responsibility and toil that public-spiritedness\nentails. Yet of what tribe has the Church more cause to complain than of\nthose persons who seem to imagine that they have done enough when they\nhave joined the Church and received their own inheritance to enjoy; who\nare alive to no emergency, nor awake to the need of others; who have no\nidea at all of their being a part of the community, for which, as well\nas for themselves, there are duties to discharge; who couch, like the\nass of Issachar, in their comfort without one generous impulse to make\ncommon cause against the common evils and foes of the Church, and are\nunvisited by a single compunction that while they lie there, submitting\nto whatever fate sends, there are kindred tribes of their own being\noppressed and spoiled?\n\nThere seems to have been an improvement in this tribe, an infusion of\nsome new life into it. In the time of Deborah, indeed, it is with a note\nof surprise that, while celebrating the victory of Israel, she names\neven Issachar as having been roused to action, and as having helped in\nthe common cause--\"the princes of Issachar were with Deborah, _even_\nIssachar;\" but we find them again in the days of David wiping out their\nreproach, and standing by him manfully. And there an apparently new\ncharacter is given to them--\"the children of Issachar, which were men\nthat had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do.\"\nThis quite accords, however, with the kind of practical philosophy which\nwe have seen to be imbedded in Issachar's character. Men they were not\ndistracted by high thoughts and ambitions, but who judged things\naccording to their substantial value to themselves; and who were,\ntherefore, in a position to give much good advice on practical\nmatters--advice which would always have a tendency to trend too much\ntowards mere utilitarianism and worldliness, and to partake rather of\ncrafty politic diplomacy than of far-seeing statesmanship, yet\ntrustworthy for a certain class of subjects. And here, too, they\nrepresent the same class in the Church, already alluded to; for one\noften finds that men who will not interrupt their own comfort, and who\nhave a kind of stolid indifference as to what comes of the good of the\nChurch, have yet also much shrewd practical wisdom; and were these men,\ninstead of spending their sagacity in cynical denunciation of what the\nChurch does, to throw themselves into the cause of the Church, and\nheartily advise her what she _ought_ to do, and help in the doing of it,\ntheir observation of human affairs, and political understanding of the\ntimes, would be turned to good account, instead of being a reproach.\n\nNext came the eldest son of Rachel's handmaid, and the eldest son of\nLeah's handmaid, Dan and Gad. Dan's name, meaning \"judge,\" is the\nstarting point of the prediction--\"Dan shall judge his people.\" This\nword \"judge\" we are perhaps somewhat apt to misapprehend; it means\nrather to defend than to sit in judgment on; it refers to a judgment\npassed between one's own people and their foes, and an execution of such\njudgment in the deliverance of the people and the destruction of the\nfoe. We are familiar with this meaning of the word by the constant\nreference in the Old Testament to God's _judging_ His people; this being\nalways a cause of joy as their sure deliverance from their enemies. So\nalso it is used of those men who, when Israel had no king, rose from\ntime to time as the champions of the people, to lead them against the\nfoe, and who are therefore familiarly called \"The Judges.\" From the\ntribe of Dan the most conspicuous of these arose, Samson, namely, and it\nis probably mainly with reference to this fact that Jacob so\nemphatically predicts of _this_ tribe, \"Dan shall judge his people.\" And\nnotice the appended clause (as reflecting shame on the sluggish\nIssachar), \"as one of the tribes of Israel,\" recognising always that his\nstrength was not for himself alone, but for his country; that he was not\nan isolated people who had to concern himself only with his own affairs,\nbut _one_ of the tribes of Israel. The manner, too, in which Dan was to\ndo this was singularly descriptive of the facts subsequently evolved.\nDan was a very small and insignificant tribe, whose lot originally lay\nclose to the Philistines on the southern border of the land. It might\nseem to be no obstacle whatever to the invading Philistines as they\npassed to the richer portion of Judah, but this little tribe, through\nSamson, smote these terrors of the Israelites with so sore and alarming\na destruction as to cripple them for years and make them harmless. We\nsee, therefore, how aptly Jacob compares them to the venomous snake that\nlurks in the road and bites the horses' heels; the dust-coloured adder\nthat a man treads on before he is aware, and whose poisonous stroke is\nmore deadly than the foe he is looking for in front. And especially\nsignificant did the imagery appear to the Jews, with whom this poisonous\nadder was indigenous, but to whom the horse was the symbol of foreign\narmament and invasion. The whole tribe of Dan, too, seems to have\npartaken of that \"grim humour\" with which Samson saw his foes walk time\nafter time into the traps he set for them, and give themselves an easy\nprey to him--a humour which comes out with singular piquancy in the\nnarrative given in the Book of Judges of one of the forays of this\ntribe, in which they carried off Micah's priest and even his gods.\n\nBut why, in the full flow of his eloquent description of the varied\nvirtues of his sons, does the patriarch suddenly check himself, lie back\non his pillows, and quietly say, \"I have waited for Thy salvation, O\nGod\"? Does he feel his strength leave him so that he cannot go on to\nbless the rest of his sons, and has but time to yield his own spirit to\nGod? Are we here to interpolate one of those scenes we are all fated to\nwitness when some eagerly watched breath seems altogether to fail before\nthe last words have been uttered, when those who have been standing\napart, through sorrow and reverence, quickly gather round the bed to\ncatch the last look, and when the dying man again collects himself and\nfinishes his work? Probably Jacob, having, as it were, projected himself\nforward into those stirring and warlike times he has been speaking of,\nso realises the danger of his people, and the futility even of such help\nas Dan's when God does not help, that, as if from the midst of doubtful\nwar, he cries, as with a battle cry, \"I have waited for Thy salvation, O\nGod.\" His longing for victory and blessing to his sons far overshot the\ndeliverance from Philistines accomplished by Samson. That deliverance he\nthankfully accepts and joyfully predicts, but in the spirit of an\nIsraelite indeed, and a genuine child of the promise, he remains\nunsatisfied, and sees in all such deliverance only the pledge of God's\ncoming nearer and nearer to His people, bringing with Him _His_ eternal\nsalvation. In Dan, therefore, we have not the catholic spirit of\nZebulun, nor the practical, though sluggish, temper of Issachar; but we\nare guided rather to the disposition which ought to be maintained\nthrough all Christian life, and which, with special care, needs to be\ncherished in Church-life--a disposition to accept with gratitude all\nsuccess and triumph, but still to aim through all at that highest\nvictory which God alone can accomplish for His people. It is to be the\nbattle-cry with which every Christian and every Church is to preserve\nitself, not merely against external foes, but against the far more\ndisastrous influence of self-confidence, pride, and glorying in\nman--\"For _Thy_ salvation, O God, do we wait.\"\n\nGad also is a tribe whose history is to be warlike, his very name\nsignifying a marauding, guerilla troop; and his history was to\nillustrate the victories which God's people gain by tenacious, watchful,\never-renewed warfare. The Church has often prospered by her Dan-like\ninsignificance; the world not troubling itself to make war upon her. But\noftener Gad is a better representative of the mode in which her\nsuccesses are gained. We find that the men of Gad were among the most\nvaluable of David's warriors, when his necessity evoked all the various\nskill and energy of Israel. \"Of the Gadites,\" we read, \"there separated\nthemselves unto David into the hold of the wilderness men of might, and\nmen of war fit for the battle, that could handle shield and buckler,\nwhose faces were like the faces of lions, and were as swift as the roes\nupon the mountains: one of the least of them was better than an hundred,\nand the greatest mightier than a thousand.\" And there is something\nparticularly inspiriting to the individual Christian in finding this\npronounced as part of the blessing of God's people--\"a troop shall\novercome him, _but he shall_ overcome at the last.\" It is this that\nenables us to persevere--that we have God's assurance that present\ndiscomfiture does not doom us to final defeat. If you be among the\nchildren of promise, among those that gather round God to catch His\nblessing, you shall overcome at the last. You may now feel as if\nassaulted by treacherous, murderous foes, irregular troops, that betake\nthemselves to every cruel deceit, and are ruthless in spoiling you; you\nmay be assailed by so many and strange temptations that you are\nbewildered and cannot lift a hand to resist, scarce seeing where your\ndanger comes from; you may be buffeted by messengers of Satan,\ndistracted by a sudden and tumultuous incursion of a crowd of cares so\nthat you are moved away from the old habits of your life amid which you\nseem to stand safely; your heart may seem to be the rendezvous of all\nungodly and wicked thoughts, you may feel trodden under foot and overrun\nby sin, but, with the blessing of God, you shall overcome at the last.\nOnly cultivate that dogged pertinacity of Gad, which has no thought of\nultimate defeat, but rallies cheerfully and resolutely after every\ndiscomfiture.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[2] Merivale's _Romans under the Empire_, vi. 261.\n\n[3] Plato, _Repub._ i. 5, etc.\n\n[4] The subsequent history of the tribe shows that the character of its\nfather was transmitted. \"No judge, no prophet, not one of the tribe of\nReuben, is mentioned.\" (_Vide_ Smith's Dictionary, _Reuben_.)","title":"The Expositor's Bible: The Book of Genesis","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":134800}