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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6. il est filmd A partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagramm^s suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 6 6 ^mm ^mm SOME PRACTICAL STUDIES IN TIIK HISTORY AND HlOGRAPin' OK IMK OLD TESTAMENT liV A -MAX OF TIIK WORLD. ' 111' " Kor wl,,,so.vt.r thini:. wore Nvilten afon eti.ne ue.c wiiiten for our lkakmn,;. I'KINTKl, FOR I-RIVATK CIKCL'I.ATIOX. MONTREAL : WITNESS" PRINTING HOUSE. «897. PREFACE AND INTRODUCTION. The following pages are an expansion of carefully studied notes for a series of Scripture Lessons to a class of Men and Women assembling on Sunday afternoon in the Cathedral Church of Montreal. They are the fruit of an independent study of the sacred record, continued for a long term of years, aided only, in the case of Hebrew names and phrases, by a reference to the works of scholars and Hebraists, and particularly to a valu- able treatise on the Book of Genesis by Dr. Hirchfelder, of the University of Toronto. These studies are called " practical " rather than " critical " (although some critical notes are interspersed), and for a definite reason, viz : that experience has proved that when the Scriptures are studied with a practical end in view, they yield invaluable stores of instruction for the guidance of men in moral and spiritual things. It is found that such instruction bears the test of actual and constant experiment in the affairs of life. The guidance of Scripture has been tested, and is being tested, by multitudes of persons of every variety of dutj' and responsibility, and it has not been found to fail in developing both righteousness and wisdom. On the other hand, it must be confessed, and cannot be denied, that much of what is called the " critical " study of Scripture has, to a large extent, been utterly barren and pro- fitless. It has not guided any man in the way of righteous- ness, nor has it warned any man or woman from the paths of the destroyer. It has not even done what it should be the object of true criticism to do, viz : to separate the wheat from iv Preface and Introduction. the chaff (should there be any chaff), the accidental from the permanent and substantial. This, to a large extent, and especially as respects the criticism that is jrcnerally cllled " higher" or " advanced " must be said of most that has been written in the way of critical study of Scripture in these modern days. For, when such criticism is carefully criticized, it is often found to be most seriously deficient, either in know- ledge of the world of men and things, or in acquaintance with human na'.ure, male and female, or in taking rational account I of the differences in ways, and times and men's manners ; or in taking account of the difference between what is related for warning and what is related for example ; also between what is related for the instruction of one age and people, and what for all ages and times. Indeed, it is certain that if the same canons of criticism and rules of judgment were applied to modern history and literature as have been used in refer- ence to the Old Testament, many conclusions like the following would be reached, by critics of future times, saj' of two thousand years I'.cnce : (i) That many of the events recorded of the l-'irst Napo- leon are improbable in a very high degree, and some of them all but impossible ; (2) That the events recorded of the Reign of Terror arc ta the last degree incredible ; (3) That the story of the rise of the man called the Third Napoleon from a London roue to be the Emperor of France is evidently a fable ; (4) That after the Declaration of Independence and the promulgation of the Constitution, it is impossible that tlicre could have been any slavery in the United States; and hence that the story of the civil war is largely a scries of myths. All these events, and numbers more, would be relegated to the region of myth and fable by advanced critics of a long distant future age, who should judge by the rules adopted by % A "I 'I Preface and Introduction. v advanced critics of this century. And they would further judge, following the same rules : (5) That the writings purporting to be by John Milton were certainly written by two persons ; (6) That there were two, if not three, William Shakespeares, especially considering in how many ways the name of the supposed author of the plays was spelt ; (7) That there were certainly two, and possibly three, Robert Burns ; the one a drunken and licentious ploughman, the other a cultivated Edinboro' gentleman, — And Robert Burns was a very common name in Scotland in those days ; (8) That there were certainly two Thomas Carlyles ; one of whom wrote a most barbarous dialect of Scotch-English, the other the language of a gentleman and a scholar ; (9) And finally, that there were certainly four persons in this nineteenth century called William Gladstone, which personages, in process of time, came to be strangely amalga- mated into one; it being utterly impossible that the same man could be a High-Church Tory, and an advanced Radical ; a brilliant statesman, and a blunderer who shattered his party , an "old parliamentary hand," and a man of learned leisure. The alembic of criticism in the thirty-ninth century would dissolve all the foregoing elements of fable, and legend, and tradition, and reduce them to a very small modicum of solid reality. Whately has shown how this could be done so as to prove that the First Napoleon never existed at all. But, with- out going so far as this, it may safely be said that the methods of advanced criticism would resolve the most remarkable cir- cumstances of the history of the last hundred years into mere romantic legends. But we, who are now Hving, are well aware that they are nothing of the sort. The conclusion is therefore inevitable that there Is something radically wrong with the method. Instead of the medium being one of clear glass, it is blurred vf Preface and Introduction. and obscured by prejudice, or by conceit, or by bad judgment, or to say truth, sometimes, by simple want of information. ) Tliese studies are therefore based on the old and not-to-be- exploded idea that the Scriptures were written by " holy men of old who spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost ; " and that they " are profitable, for teaching, for discipline, and for instruction in righteousness." This conclusion is the result of independent consideration and study, carried on, more or less, for more than forty years. And the deeper the study, the deeper the conviction became that the writings were of Divine in-breathing or inspiration. In truth, no other theory as to these writings will stand any practical test ; for whatever difficulties this theory may involve (and difficulties there are), the difficulties of any other theory are utterly insurmountable and hopeless of solution. The writer calls himself " a man of the world," and that advisedly. He is a layman, and a man of affairs. He has seen the world in many aspects, has had experience of it in many conditions, both high and low ; has had to do in his time with all sorts and conditions of men, and that in more than one country or two ; all which has helped him, in mature years, to understand many things in Scripture, especially in the Old Testament, which were once dark and enigmatic, but which, with increasing knowledge and broadening experi- ence, he has found to be true to human nature, and human life, and the ways of men, as history goes on repeating itself from age to age. He has seen, as deepening study opened out their characters more and more clearly, that the men and women of the early portions of the Bible, from Adam and Eve downwards, are precisely like the men and women of modern times ; that they are not mythical and fanciful Preface and Introduction, VII characters, but real men and women, of like passions, fears, troubles and joys as ourselves. And he has found, as multitudes of others have done, that these Scriptures are the only guide for men in the difiPcult ways of life, the only light upon the dark mysteries of human existence, and especially, that they contain, for all who are honestly willing to follow them, not only a light to show how far men have gone astray, but how to be restored to the way of righteousness and peace, and to a hope which is as an anchor to the soul, entering into the eternal life beyond the veil. In one word, the Holy Scriptures are the book, not only of instruction, but of Salvation. PRELIMINARY THOUGHTS, APPLICABLE TO THE WHOLE OF SCRIPTURE. There is no more pregnant sentence in the whole Bible than this: " WHATSOE\ER THINGS WERE WRITTEN AFORETIME (referring to the writings of the Old Testa- ment) WERE WRITTEN FOR OUR LEARNING. Thus spoke the Apostle Paul, writing as moved by the Holy Ghost, when addressing the Christians of Rome. The Holy Ghost thus marked out and indicated the scope c; those writ- ings of holy men of old time which had been composed under His inspiration. They were written for our "learning," the original word indicating an educating process, such as is passed through in school or college, or in the broad field of the world. But •the '•learning" is that of moral and spiritual lessons, such as relate, not to secular knowledge or science, but to the char- acicr and conduct of man. For the object of this " learning," we are told, is to develop patience and consolation and hope. — Romans 15 : 4. There is thus supplied a key to the whole of Divine Revela- tion. It is that we may learn how to live ; and how to die. The history and biography of Scripture are not simply for in- formation and the enlargement of knowledge, but to enable him who reads to draw lessons of patience and courage and bope. This is the one purpose of the revelation. If the reading does not result in this, the reader might as well have never read ^ 1l 1 i I I' . I 2 Preliminary Thoughts. at all. Similarly, the poetry and philosophy of Scripuire arc not for recreation or intellectual stimulus, to kindle the fire of iniajrination. and light up the fancy with a succession ttf beau- tiful images, hut to quicken the faith, the hope, and the spiritual faculty t)f a man, giving him mental strength to fulfil all secular and sacred tluty that he may be " ready to every good work," enabling him, also, when pressed by the sorrows of life, to rest in conuinmion with God, and an assured hope for the higher life beyond. The history and biography do undoubtedly give information and stimulate intellectual research; the poetry and prophecy do certainly quicken the imagination and charm the literary sense. But these ai'e not the purpose of the writings. Their true purpose is never fulfilled unless a man considers, when reading, " What can be learned from this narrplive ? What lesson for life and conduct is embodied in this psalm, this poetry, this prophecy ? The Sci iptures, in short, were not written to teach men science, histtiry. geography, or abstract philosophy, but Morals and Divine things. And this is reasonable. For, let us suppose that in the first chapter of Genesis there had been a revelation of the truths of Astronomy, Geology, Chemistry, Zoology; is it not evident that in order that it might oe comprehended, there would need to have been a revelation of all that has led up to these sciences ? There would have n« ecled a revelation i)f Algebra. Geometry, Conic Sections, Trigonometry, and what nc^t. In default of this, a statement of astronomical truth would have been no more intelligible than if it had been made in some language that was not to exist till thousands of years afterwards. 1 i' 1 i Preliminary Thoughts. 3 But a Divine revelation is not needed in such matters. Men have found them out for themselves. But they have never, by searching, found otit Ciod. He therefore (and His ways, gov ernment. dispensations, laws, and disposition towards mankind)] has been revealed in this Divine word. Xow a revelation, if it is to reveal anything, must be intel- ligible—and this, not to men of profound intellect only, but to ir.cn and women in general. There is, in the works of a profound philosopher of modern times, a sketch based on the theory of evolution, of what he sui)posed might have been the first processes of Creation. The sketch, in eflfect, does not differ materially 'rom the first few verses of the book of Genesis, with the exception— a vital exception truly — that it does not recognize an originating Creator. But the language is so highly metaphysical that no person, could understand it who was not trained in the study of transcendental philosoph}- To the mass of mankind the sketch would be simply incomprehensible. Another principle, obviously applicable to the case is this— that any revelation of the operations connected with the forming of the material world, while so revealed as to convey intelligible ideas, shall nevertheless be such as to remain essentially true during the long ages of subsequent discovery. What that means may be conceived of by considering that of the numberless theories on the same subject that have been broached in modem times, the greater part, one by one, have been shown to be untenable as investigation widened the area of what could certainly be proved. The theories of so great a man as Danvin are already being discredited, modified, or 4 Preliminary Thoughts, Oisproved, in .„eir app,ica.io„ in tl.is dirocion and i„ that; and apparon,,,, on,, a sn,a„ residnun, o, „,,a. : finaU, and uni- versal.,, received .vi,, remain. Xo«, it ,„is ,« so, in the course of a single gene^ion, wl,a,. n,ay it be supposed, will ^c thought of Danvin-s pl,i,„.„„„, ,„„, ,,„„,^„, ^.^^^^ ,__^,^^^, Yet this is the test which the Boole of Genesis is being sub- )«.ed to in these times. And, let any one who considers the ...alter, jn.lge whether the book has not stood this test in such a n,anner as to prove that a Divine tnind was at work in its con,position; that, thongh the vehicle of revelation, and its a..g«age, were human, the thoughts and ideas were inspired by H,n, to whon, all things, pas. and future, in the whole heavens and in the earth, are naked and open as the day !l OF THE ORIGIX OF THINGS IX THE WORLD WHOSE ORIGIX IS KXOWX. Of many things in the world around us we know the origin; both how tlicy came to be, and when they came to be. We can recall a time when they were not; and we know the circum- stances which led to their coming to be. Let us consider what, exactly, it is we know. On the streets which we pass day by day, a building has recently been erected. It is an absolutely new thino- in the world. A year ago it was not. I'.ut those who passed by. day bv day, saw a process going on which resulted finally in the building as it stands. A founda- tion was dug. .Materials were accumulated, Laborers began their work of piling stone upon stone. Hoisting machinery was brought. As the work went on, and skilled workmen ap- peared, stone, bricks, timber, and other materials, were taken by strong hands and skilful fingers, and fitted into certain places day by day, until finally this entirely new thing in the world appeared, viz., a LiUILDiNG, fitted for a certain use. There is n')w a dwelling, a warehouse, a factory, a church, where nothing whatsoever existed before. But besides the men of handicraft who did the work, there was one who appeared from time to time giving directions. And h.e had a paper in l.is hand, a remarkable thing indeed, for it contained, before a stone was laid, a complete picture and plan of what the building was to be. Every stone that was laid, and every beam that was used, had its prototype in that :i ; I 1 !l !i' 6 Things ivhose Origin is knoivn. plan. The stone was conceived of before it was cut. Its size, weight, and place were calculated, and it was wrought and placed as a result of that conception and calculation. Before the building appeared on the street, its picture ap- peared in the architect's ofifice. But before it appeared in the shape of drawings in the architect's office, it had appeared, in conceptions and ideas of the architect's mind. But, let us consider. Is this the ultimate origin ? Must we not go back another step before we reach the primal and ultimate cause ? How ws it that the architect himself began to design and calculate ? According to all experience, the architect moved because he was moved upon. He had been consulted. A purpose was unfolded to him, which purpose he was desired to further by designing a building suited to fulfil it. We have, then, reached, as a result of a search into the origin of the building, a desire, a conception, a determination, of some man who has an object in view. l>efore the dwellitig was planned at all, some man was think- ing of its desirableness, was calculating whether it was within his means, and finally had l)rought liis will into play, and formed a determination that it should ])e done. The ultimate cause, tlicn, of tliis material thing before us is something that is iinniatcrial,\\z., the mind, purpose, and will of tlic projector. It is ol)vious, and the more carefully we consider, the more we shall be impressed by it, that some such mental forces as have just been traced from origin to fulfilment, have been at work to produce everything which has been wrought out 1iy the hand of man. I M T/iiiigs xchosc Origin is /cnozvn. 7 Here is a great railroad, spanning the continent. The time was, and that not long ago, when it was not. But the time was, and that not long ago, when the conception of it was a mental entity in the minds of certain men in the country. The germ of it was there as a mental force and form of activity, l^iis enormous material entity, now one of the greatest forces in the world, was, for a considerable time, a dream, ".. hope, a desire, an ambition; agitated, discussed, controverted, in the realm of mental and political activity, until finally the cogita- tion became determination, and mental conception became em- bodied in what we see. The origin of this vast railway was in the :\Iind. To trace it to its origin, we must pass from the realm of the material and enter the realm of spiritual forces. Beyond this we cannot go, for we have reached a reasonable and sufficient first cause. What was the origin of the swift steamers that are annihilat- ing distance on the Atlantic ? The thought and puqiose of the owners. The steamers were there, first in desire, then in conception, and finally in will, before a line of the keel was laid. How came those marvellous machines to be which, as they work, seem almost endowed with intelligence ? They were in- vented, we say. The mind of a man of mechanical genius was at work in a conception of what might be. The idea was at length complete. Conception then became will and the machine was fashioned according to the conception. Thus, at whatever we look, in the shape of inanimate things of which the origin is absolutely known, we invariably find that it can be traced back to an originating and designing mind. The mind of man is the original cause of all things that the hani) of man mas formed. '"^l I tl: ■I 'I I : l!! \v 8 Things zvhosc Origin is knoxcn. There is another development of material things, the origin of each individual specimen of which is known, viz., that of plants, trees, and herbs that have been originated by man. Let us illustrate — The dwelling before spoken of is surround- ed by a lawn or farm. Round about the lawn are trees, shrubs, and plants. These all came to be where and what they are by reason of being planted, according to a conception or design, this shrub here, that tree there, of the owner or designer of the place. These were produced by setting in motion certahi forces previously lare. Xot a single wheat plant was there. The field came to be what it is, and these millions of plants to be there, owing to a conception in the mind of the owner, viz., the desire for a crop of wheat, leading to an act of the will, resulting in his setting in motion well known forces of cereal plant life. The seeds on which he acted were susceptil)le of other uses, and would have been consumed and destroyed, but for the volition of the farmer. This development, and all others of the same kind, result- ;5 i t I I ■'.'il 'I'/diigs za'/tosc Origin is i-iion'ii. g ing in the gruwtli of inconceivable multitudes of specimens of plants which make up the crops of wheat, rice, sugar, tea, cotton, antl what not, which go to sustain the life of the world, have taken their rise in the conceptions and volitions of multitudes of human beings, acting by means of forces not human, but evidently the outworking of marvellous intelligence and calcu- lation. All tiiincs of which wic know thf. origin- with ABS LUTE CERTAINTV, HAD THEIR ORIGIN IN MIXD, AND THEV WERE CONNECTED IN .MANY CASES WITH WHAT WE MUST INEVITAI5LV CONCLUDE TO HAVE I5EEN FORCES DESU;NEI), CALCULATED, AND APrOINTED, HV A HIGHER ]MlND STILL. '!■• I: |: ', I OF TIIK OBSCURITIKS AM) AlM'ARl-.NT CONTRADICTIONS ()1< SCRirTL'RK. The ol)scuritics that arc found in Scripture are largely mat- ters of the relative intelligence of the reader. To a man of little knowledge of things ancient or modern, who has had little experience of human nature and the ways of mankind, mr y things will seem obscure, that to a man of wider know- ledge and larger experience will seem plain and intelligible. Indeed, the same things will appear to the same man obscure and hard to understand in his younger days, and easy enough to comprehend when his knowledge is enlarged. Sometimes a difficulty is cleared up by comparing with a parallel passage : sometimes by considering if the translation may not be inaccurate, and obtaining information from a scholar; sometimes by considering differences of times, cir- cumstances, and men's manners; and sometimes by consideritig that human nature, even in good men, is seldom wholly con- sistent, With regard to numbers, say of an army, or of population, which give rise to many difficulties of comprehension, it is important to remember that in the transcription, and repetition of copies of numbers, it is almost certain that errors would arise when the letters of ancient languages signifying numbers were so much alike. While the original record was undoubt- edly accurate and from an inspired source, we are nowhere 1 Obscurities of Scripture. 1 1 taught tliat copyists were infallible. But, it is to be noted, that no saving truth, no truth involving the guidance of men in the way of life, is bound up with the accuracy of numbers. With regard to statements that appear contradictory, many ai)paront contradictions will disappear on further examination, or on considering more strictly the meaning of the language, or the character and circumstances of the man, or the time. Any difficulties that are foimd to be insoluble by any of these methoook of Origins. And very appropriately; for it gives an account of the origin of the [Material Universe as a whole — the Heavens and the Earthy of the organized world in which we live, and the relation of the heavenly bodies to it; of the plants, grasses, and trees of the vegetable kingdom, and the birds, fishes, reptiles, and animals of animated nature. It gives also an account of the origin of Man and Woman, their place and work in the world, and their relation to all other animated beings; of marriage; of the division of time into days of work and rest, and the character of that rest; of the entrance of Evil into the world, and of a system and purpose of redemption from it. All this is found in the first two chapters. But proceeding, wc find reference to the first beginnings in the world of ]^Iechanical Arts and Inventions, of Music and Poetry, of the two great divisions of Agricultural Employment, of Religious Rites and Sacrifices, of the Dispersion of men over the various regions of the globe, and the germs of the division into the Races that have ever since occupied it. i CHAPTER I. TiiK Origin ov thk Haijitahll; Would. GliN'L.SIS I. It is a fact most noticeable that in respect of what the world we live in /s, and what is its cai)acity and power of service for mankind, there have been, for many ages, a continuous series of expanding practical discoveries; and in no age has the pro- gress of discovery been more remarkal)lo than in this nine- teenth century of the Christian era. Investigation as to what the world can reliminary aftinnation of the existence, the attribntes, the character, of the Snpreme. I'or the Divin • r>einji;\ in essence, is bevond the thonj^ht of man to conceive. ^\'h(>. by searchiiii::. can tind ont the Almiiihty to perfection ? I'nt the .Supreme, in relation to Man. is conceivable in an absolute and perfect sense. He is conceivable thronqh the jiowers and facnlties in which men are like him. Men are themselves orif:;inators. Tliev desii^n, and conceive, ;uid order. and mnke. Th ev yo vern. claced with their powers in such relation to the earth that they not only j^ive liyht and heat, but by their movements arc siyns and marks by which human time is measured and all human affairs are rei;-ulated. rnor^anized matter, formless, dark, and void, Iiavins;- been called into existence, the first step in the brinoinq- order out of chaos is the creation of LUIHT. (nnl said — T.et lij^ht be. and it was. The second, the se])aration of the atmosphere, and the region of clouds, winds, mist, and rain, from the s;raduall\' solidifying- mass of the earth. (iout the life was unconscious. These various plants, trees, and herbs had no power of motion. Neither have they to this day. The fifth step is, not to create the Sun, the Moon and the Stars, as many have supposed, (for their creation is related in the first verse), but to perfect the relation of these bodies of the earth so that they shall give light; that the order of the seasons shall begin, with the regular procession of days, months and years — all which arise from the orderly motion of these heavenly bodies, and the earth's relation to them. And here let it be noted that though the roots and founda- tion of all physical science thus far have been touched, not a glimpse of scientific knowledge has been conveyed. Of Chem- istry, Astronomy, ^leteorology, Hydrostatics, Pneumatics, Botany, — not one word. For it is evident that any Divine revelation as to these would have been entirely unintelligible unless accompanied by a re- velation of all those elements of science which lie at the founda- tion, not only of discovery, but of a comprehension of what is discin-ered. It would have been vain to reveal these, unless all mathematical and geometric science had been revealed at the same time. That would have been practically impossible. Piut to proceed. The Earth being endowed with power to produce the grasses, herbs and fruits that are necessary to the sustenance of the next higher development of life; and the I Creative Development of the Earth. 19 relation of the heavenly jjodics to the earth being settled on a lasting- foundation, the Divine word goes forth to the organi- zation of the swarming multitudes that find their habitation in the water and in the air. These are all endowed not only with life, but with Consciousness and the power of ^lotion. Here, the word abundantly is used, indicating vast nmltitudes or swarms, both in water and air. Thus, as we noticed in the last manifestation the beginning of life: but a life unconscious, and fixed: so, following with rever- ence ; ' awe the orderly steps of the Originating Power, we now see the first !)eginnings of Consciousness and Power of Motion. From great sea-monsters and huge winged fowl, to the tiniest invisible insect* and the smallest bird of the air, all these are conscious of their own life, and all can move at will, some of the smaller ones with an inconceivable force and rapidity, in the sphere of their capacity. And now that creatures endued with consciousness are ori- ginated, the Supreme Creator reveals, for the first time, another manifestation of Himself. All this time we have, as a great astronomer said, been '■ thinking the thoughts of God after Him," and have seen the marvels of Originating Power and Wisdom, the workings of an infinite Mind, in whom nnist have existed all the develop- ments of mathematical, gecmetric, and astronomic calcula- tion. The great Mathematician, the great Geometer, the great Astronomer, be it said with all reverence, has been working before us, and producing these marvels. But they all i 1 - *: have been the outwork ings of one whose attributes encK ' .n mere force and calculation. They might — but they did not. When the creatures endowed with consciousness appeared, then appeared with them, and never before, the attribute of i t i i: I: i 1 ;F'' \ 1 ,■ ' 'i ! : ■ \ I' :>; }} 11 -jfi 20 Creative Development of tJte Eixrth. Goodwill, or, in its Latin form, Benevolence. God gave Bless- ing to all these creatures, to enjoy, in consciousness, a happi- ness such as they are capable of, and after their kind. The directing word also went forth, — Let them reproduce then* kind, and fill the whole realm of the air and the waters. And it was so. And these also were pronounced Good. The next step was to endow the earth with power to origi- nate living creatures of various orders who are to find their habitation upon it, such as cannot live in the waters, and can- not fly in the air. There is here distinction, such as corresponds with wh.at has always existed on the earth, between the crea- tures that are attached directly to the service of man (in the preparation of food, the cultivation of the ground, and in trav- elling over the earth), and those other creatures of various orders, some of them four-footed, some many-footed, whose existence is bounded by themselves, or has relation only indi- rectly to the service of mankind. The former are evidently designated by the generic word " cattle " (and the Hebrew word suggests it) and are all of a higher order of conscious- ness. They are susceptible of discipline; in them are the ru- diments of understanding. They can know their own names, tmderstand directions and conmiands, and distinguish between their owners and other persons. And these also were pro- nounced Goc>d. Thus, then, there has been originated : A world forming part of a general system of material things, fitted for the dwelling of a creature like ]\Ian, by being en- dowed with productive capacity for all his needs, and filled with creatures whose lot is subservient to his own. The next step in the development of creative power is the •0. iliii Creative Development of the Earth. 21 origination of the Being who is to be the crown and sum of the whole. This is treated of in a subsequent chapter; meanwhile, wliat can wc say, if we rightly comprehend what has taken place thus far— but that creation is marvellous beyond imagination,, and reflects a glory inconceivable upon Him who conceived and called it into beinq;. ^ iM ! 1 ■ ;ti I l'f NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY. I. — As TO Tiiii Name of the Divine Beinc;. One of the first requisites to a true appreciation of Scrip- tural narrative is an unclerstandin.2f of the meaning of the Hebrew words sig'nifyini:;: the Divine Beinj^. The EngHsh translation is defective in not indicating dififerences between these words, for, when examined, there is seen to be a singular accuracy in the manner in which they are used. A considera- tion of this would have prevented some vain theorising. Part of the so-called higher criticism is little better than a "darken- ing of counsel by words without knowledge " by reason of its ignoring the reason why one term is employed in one place and another in another, as the sacred writer was referring to the Supreme Being as the Creator, or as the floral Governor, or as the Everlastingly Existing, or as the Being who enters into covenant with mankind. In this chapter the word employed is ELOHIM (translated simply GOD) but which really signifies the :\IIGHTY ONE, a term most natural when the operations of supreme creative pc wer are revealed. It is noticeable that the word is plural, and yet that the action is that of one Supreme being. The declaration is also note- worthy that the Spirit of God moved on, or rather (as a better translation would give) brooded over the waters. All this, as is common throughout the Old Testament, is but a dim shadow- ing forth of things that were only perfectly revealed long ages afterwards, viz., the Plurality in Unity of the Divine Being. The Processes of Creation. 23 Critical Xotks. As TO THE Processes of Creation. The processes described in the first chapter are a creation or a forminj;:^ from nothing by the simple action of a Divine will. 'Ihis is the meaning of the Hebrew word "/)V?;v?," the word used in tlie first verse and translated "created." The world is )iot represented as being made, as some men ignorantly affirm, as a car|K'nter frames a bridge, or a builder a house, that is, out of materials previously existing. This book of Origins brings us face to face with that ultimate force, the Will of the Eternal. The method of its operation is, " Let it be," and it is. And this is s(^ notwithstanding that long periods of what we call time may be (occupied. There is always the operation of the Divine " Let it be" until the ultimate end of the operation is reached, it may be after lai:)se of ages. There are many confirmatory j^as- sages in the Divine ^^ ord as to this. Thus : By the Word of the Lord the heavens were made, and all the host of them by the Breath of His Mouth. This is not the way in which a Carpenter works. " He spake and it was done." " He hangeth the earth upon noihing."~]oh 26 : 7. (A dim foreshadowing of the truth of the earth's position, not to be discovered for thousands of years afterwards.) "Through faith, we understand that the [Material Universe was framed by the tvord of God, — the phenomena of nature were not formed from things that can be seen." — Hebrews II : 2. This is a literal translation of this pregnant pas- sage. It is to be noted here that the Apostle Paul, writing by the Holy Ghost, nevertheless writes as one acquainted with |ii 24 Tlic Periods of Time designated Days. the profound speculations of Greek philosophy as to the origin of the world. The word "Aionos" which he employs to desig- nate the "world" or "universe," means also ages or epochs of time. So the Divine Spirit seems to anticipate the idea of vast periods of time heing occupied in the process of preparing the earth for human habitation. The same Apostle Paul, writing by the Spirit, respecting the Divine Son of God, as taking part in creation, does so in these profound terms : " For by Hin; were all things created, that are in heaven and that are in earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions, or principalities or powers." Here the mind is carried far beyond the outward forms and phenomena, of tlie visible world, to the forces and potvers that are behind all phenomena and that are the moving cause of them ; they themselves being the creation of Him who is " before all things'' and " by whom all things ' consist ' " or are held in constituted and continu- ous being. \e I I As TO THE Periods ok Time designated days. The wonl day may as naturally signify a definite period, era, or epoch — in the ages previous to man — as the period of time which we call day, and which is measured by a single revolution of the earth on its axis. For time, in the absence of a definite mode of measure, is nothing but a mode of thought — a series of phenomena of consciousness. As there was no man whose consciousness was the subject of the phenomena, the " day" might be what man would have called a thousand years, or ten thousand, or ten millions; for to the Divine Mind, all time is now. There is no succession, no period, no measurement.. Geologic Formations. 2$ One clay is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. Nevertheless, in writing what is to convey intelligence, terms must be used which are intelligible. And of all words indi- cating time, the word day is at once the most simple and the most profound. It may signify cither the period during w^iich the earth makes one revolution on its axis, or a period of in- definite length during which a given course of operations is proceeding. Speaking accurately, indeed, there is no time when there is no being (except the Infinite and Eternal) who is conscious of it, and even then, when there is nothing by which to measure it. For, in the latter case, time must be measured by sensa- tion. It is a well known fact that when measured by sensa- tion, the same period of time may seem to vary almost inde- finitely from very long to very short, according to the character of the sensation. \\c all know how, when travellincf from home, and multitudes of new objects give rise to multitudes of new sensations, it seems, after a few da\s have elapsed, as if we had been abroad from home for weeks, or even months. One can conceive indeed, that sensation and consciousness might be so heightened, that a day might seem as long as a year,' and if a }car, then, by a still further quickening and heightening, a hundred years, or a thousand. .As TO GiX)[.0(;ic Foumatioxs. The process described in verses 9 and 10, viz., the separation of the land from the water, is one which admits of indefinite changes, modifications, upheavals, eruptions, and all other phe- nomena that might be necessary to bring the coutinents and islands of the earth, with their mountains, valleys, and plains. ' '1: H' mmmmm 20 Gcohwic Formations. t(j the condition in which tliere could he either vegetable or animal life (jn them. IMie formation of most of the great continents of the ,c;h^hc, with their river and lake systems, ami of some of the islands of the sea, and notably the I'.ritish Islands, exhibit clearly, even in these modern ag'es, the action of enormous watery forces, of strens^th and velocity inconceivable. And the whole surface of the earth, in the chaotic period indicated in the second verse, beinjij covered with water, the process described in a few words in the ninth verse must have been one of Cpheaval on the one side and 1 )epression on the other. These upheavals may. some of them, have been slow, and some violent. The upheaval of the land above the waters here, would cause corresponding deep (lei)rcssions there, with the rushing of waters on a scale of magnitude and force utterly unknown in the ages of man's existence on the earth, but of which some shadow of an idea may be formed by those who have witnessed the action of water on the bursting of a great reservoir. The action of vast masses of rushing water of inconceivable force is to be seen in the rounding of the Gulf of Mexico, in the shape of the Eastern coast of the United States, of the Gulf of St. Law- rence, t)f the Eastern coast of the United Kingdom, and of many other parts of the globe. It is doubtful indeed, if the great currents of the ocean, such as the Gulf Stream and the Arctic Current, are not the remains, by gradual subsidence extending over thousands of years, of the currents which once swept over the globe, and which, along with volcanic and up- heaving forces, determined the form of the continents and islands of the globe as it now subsists. The same forces which would operate to cause these in- conceivable rushings of waters, would operate also on the k i Geologic Formations. 27 surface of the earth, upheavin.c:. cleprcssiiifr. compressing, outspreading- : — formincr. in process of what we call tiiue (for want of a better expression) the mountain chains, hill for- mations, valleys, and plains of the earth. And the action of the waters after the great bed of the sea had been formed, would naturally give rise to the River systems of the globe. The whole of the river valleys of the globe present the same ap- pearance of natural formation, that a limited area of the earth's surface docs on the subsidence of a flood. There is the same cutting down of a deep central chaimel, the same formation of lateral channels, the same cutting away of the earth by the swirling and rushing of revolving currents, the same spread- ing oiu and formation of alluvial levels as the ultimate waters are reached. It does not require a very vivid imagination for one who has seen the operation of a great river flood and its subsidence, to trace out the operation of the mighty forces described in tlie ninth verse, in the formation of the val- leys of the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi in the New World, and the Ganges, the Danube, the Rhine, and the \'olga in the Old. The gathering of the waters into one place, and the ris- ing up and appearance of the dry land, would be accomplished by the rising uj) of mountain chains, corresponding with the depression of the bed of the sea. and of the river valleys of the whole globe. A proper translation of that sublime psaln: of Creation and Providence— the 104th— gives, in a few words, the great work in process and accomplishment. " Thou cov- eredst the earth with the deep as a garment. The waters stood above the mountains. At Thy rebuke they fled ; at the voice of Thy thunder they hasted away. TliC mountains ascend, the valleys descend, to the place xvhich Thou hast founded for them." ~T 28 Geologic Formations. It is evident, moreover, in all the mountainous and hilly regions of the earth, that forces of inconceivable violence and magnitude were once at work on the glolx-, of a kind alto- gether different from anything ordinarily prevalent during the ages of man's abode of the earth. The remains of these forces in the present period of restraint and subsidence are to be seen in the action of occasional earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. The violent upheavals which resulted in an entire change in the conformation of a whole district in Xew Zealand about the year 1885, are, on a very small scale, of the same nature as those by which, in the ages anterior to man, the surface of the earth was formed as mankind have known it. This period of violent upheavals and depressions, of the action of heat and cold, of outspreadings and subsidences, of the formation of valleys and plains and hillsides, was necessarily anterior to the development of the earth as a productive power. Consequently, it is not until the earth has assumed a sufifi- ciently settled form, as indicated in verse 10, that the produc- tion of grasses, herbs, and plant life, and subsequently of all forms of moving life, was called forth by the Divine fiat. Yet this by no means implies that the era of extraordinary change and preparation was entirely to cease, for the process of pre- paration might be going on simultaneously witli a certain degree both of plant and animal development; that is, such preparation as did not consist in such violent disturbances of land and water as would be inconsistent either with the devel- opment of plants or animals. The traces of vegetable and animal life found in earlier rock formations are evidentlv of such forms as could subsist while m Geologic Formation. . 29 the process of preparation was not yet complete, but were after the great first nioveiucnt described in verse 9. T'.iit tlic process of preparation must have been sufficiently complete before the creation and placing of so highly organ- ized, sensitive, and naturally defenceless creature as man upon the earth. And all things observable, on the earth and the waters, indicate that this was so. The areas of the globe occupied by land and by water res- pectively have plainly been matters of ^^lathematical Adjustment and Calculation; calculated indeed as strictly as the water sup- ply of a city or of a factory is estimated. There has been the nicest adjustment here of means to ends, so that the area of water shall give off that exact amount of moisture which will ensure a sufficient rainfall and water supply, and replenishment of springs and rivers for the ser\-ice of mankind and animated creatures, as well as the sustenance of vegetable life. One might ask, in simplicity why there is so much of sea on the surface of the globe ? Let us suppose the relative Mcas of land and water so changed that there w^ould be far more land, and less of water. Is it not evident, in that case, that the rivers of the earth would shrink, that springs would dry up, that water suppl\- by wells would diminish, that the rainfall would be curtailed; the effect being a very large cessation of vegetable and plant life, and the turning of large tracts of pro- ductive territory into waterless desert ? No. The whole matter was desip^ned in the depths of infinite wisdom, and designed mathematically. But if mathematically, who was the Mathematician ? ! Bi.: i^'iiii H,. 30 Geologic Formations. If by calculation, who was the Calculator ? A full and careful consideration of this great subject will lead to the settled conclusion that the successive developments of the formation of the earth must, of necessity, have been in sub- stance, such as are described in this first chapter of the :\Iosaic Record, and specially that a MIND of infinite capacity in de- signing, calculating, and executing, was at work " from the be- ginning." giving embodiment and form to conceptions and designs that have been partially revealed, but of which the fulness is beyond our thoughts. ; ■ ' \ if \m nil I CIIAPTi-K II. THE CkF.A'riOX OF MAX. When the narrative of creation has reached the iieriod when Veise 26.— And (lod the habitable world is settled in its nlaoe and formation, and ■'*•"''. '-«' "« make man. is replenished with animals and plants, a marked change occiu's in the style of the narrative. There is a ])anse, and what seems (with all reverence be it spoken) like a consnltation. What is now about to be done is of a different order from what has been done. The narra- tive rei)resents the Oivine Being as sayii LET rS make :\\; n : Evidently a being of higher order is to be now originated ; how high and how nuich higher than all that has gH)ne before, is indicated in a few pregnant phrases. Tl Hs iieino- is to be made 1st. — In the Image and after the Likeness of the Creator. 2iid. — lie is to have Dominion over the creatures that have )een mac le to inhabit the earth, tlie air, and the sea. 3rd. — His destiny and avocation are declared to be (1). To nuiltiply and spread over the earth. (2.) To s///>t/ur the earth itself to his own use. (3.) To subdue and make subservient the creatures that inhabit it. (4.) To cultivate for purposes of food all soed-bcaring plants and herbs, and all fruit-bearing trees. Psalm 8. ■H:' 11' l|:!i The Lord God formed man — (not of dust,l)Ut) — dust of the ground. Psalm 139 — I am fear- fully and wonderfully made. 32 The Creation of Man. In the second chapter there are further revelations : — \'ersc 7. — Man is formed, an aggregation of particles of matter, here called " Dust." His bodily frame is as purely material as that of any animal, fish, bird, or herb, and is subject to all material laws. Wonderful as it is, the conformation of his bodily frame — and that of the lowest savage is as wonderful as that of the most intellectual man — is yet but the conformation of material atoms. It is of the earth, earthy. ^larvellous — and appreciated best as mar- vellous by those who know it best — it is yet material. But this only heightens our conception of the marvellous things that matter is capable of. Tlie bodily frame of man, beyond all reasonable doubt, is the highest manifestation of the capabilities of matter. When we think of tlie powers and capacity of the human hand, the human eye, the human organs of speech, with the rest of the structure, of bones, muscles, nerves, arteries, and the organs sustaining life, we are con- strained to say — not only, I am wonderfully, but/i:^ which has had so many strange developments as time rolled on. ^ili CRITICAL NOTES. Objection has been made to the narrative of the taking one rib from man to form the woman, from the fact that the ribs of men are synmietrical, and not defective. But in that era of supernatural occurrences, at the bej^inning, the rib might have been replaced by another, and so the body made perfect. The narrative does not mentior this, but this by no means involves the conclusion that it was not so. Or, the body of the first man might have continued in this imperfect condition without any necessity that his descendants should inherit that imper- fection. It is, however, vain to speculate. We have already seen that the mode of the creation of the woman, while neither impossible nor unreasonable, was fraught with deep physical and moral significance. There the narrative ,must be left, for it would make us no wiser to tell of the manner in which the bodily frame of the man was subsequently n 'stored, or whether it was restored, in the case of the first man, at all. i That the foregoing conception of the proper sphere of the man and the woman respectively is true, is shown by the univer- sal instincts which have been implanted in them, from the mo- ment they each begin to act consciously as of themselves. Everywhere and in all conditions of the human race, we find the child girl, without tuition or example, naturally showing a fond- ness or inclination for dolls. The interest of the young girl is drawn out to her doll, as if it was a living child. Her heart V 1 ■ I ■ i ' 4^ 0/ Man as Male and Female. goes out to it. she has all the interest in it that a mature woman has in the child that is born to her. Nature, another name for the Almighty Creator, has stamped this instinct upon every girl that is born into the world; evidently that, whether with or without a will that may have subsequently been influenced by training, there may be deep down in woman's nature, the instinct of care, for offspring. But with the child boy it is absolutely dififerent. No boy ever cares for dolls. His interest is for tools, for a trumpet, for a whip. Deep down in the instinctive nature of the future man is the love of rule over animals, the love of labor by the hands, and the love of war. ra. lilt |i : CHAPTER IV. Of the Origina.. Condition of Man in the World, AND OF THE LOCALITY in WHICH HE WAS PLACED HY THE CREATOR. Genesis II. — In the first chapter of Genesis we have a rapid and comprehensive summary of the gradual development, tmder a creative will, of the earth and all that is in it, and of the Heavenly Bodies, so far as they have relation to the world and its inhabitants. In the second chapter begins the history of the Human Race, and, as marking a new relation of the Supreme Being to mankind (for all the revelation of the Supreme is of his relation, and not of his essence) a change of name occurs. In the first chapter, which is occupied with the formation of the world, the Creator is simply the " All Powerful,"— the Elohim. — And this is fitting. The second introduces another idea, that of Divine Providence or Government, continuously operating, directing, controlling. This new idea is sig- nalized by the employment of a new word. It is not the Elohim simply, not the Supreme Power, but Jehovah-Elohim, rendered in English, somewhat imperfectly, as the LORD GOD ; the word Jehovah signifying, the Eternally Subsisting One, the Unchangeable I AM. Nothing could be more appropriate to the beginning of the relation of conscious beings to the Divinity they were to serve. He was to remain unchange- able, while all things around them and above them were •constantly changing. The Earth is the Lord's and all that is therein. For He hath founded it upon the seas and established it on the floods. I '' II, I' 1; fi: '41 I am the Lord, I change not, therefore the sons of Jacob are not consumed. Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day and for ever. 50 T/ie Original Condition of Man in the World. For this would be the very sure foundation of that confidence or faith, which is the essence of all true relations between man and the Supreme, and which has been the same in all dispensa- tions, under the Old Testament as well as the New. The faith of the godly man ,is in an everlastingly subsisting and un- changeable Almighty One. I I The first act of the Supreme in His relation to mankind was to constitute the seventh period of time as a day of Rest. (The Hebrew word signifying rest, viz., Sabbath, has been incorporated with our English tongue, but we use it often without thinking of its signification.) But the seventh of the days was not only to be a day of rest, but of Religion — a day of Divine Blessing, set apart (sanctified, meaning separated) and made holy by the Supreme Creator, for all time. The language of the Fourth Commandment is conformable to this. For that is not primarily a command to set apart the seventh day as a day of rest. The command is to remember what had been instituted formerly ; which institution had fallen into disuse in the day of bondage, but which the people were now to observe, being free. The special force of the command is that the rest day is to be kept Sacred. This is the first and oldest institution established amongst mankind, and here we have the account of its origin. And He who so conmianded, has made the human frame, in its capacity for work and need of rest, to conform to this primi- tive institution. The next act of Supreme wisdom and providence was to assign to the man and the woman a suitable Habitation and Employment. As to the habitation, being placed in a climate where clothing was not needed, a park or paradise was pre- The Original Condition of Man in the World. 5 1 pare-, bears only too sad witness. The history of the world is not indeed wholly a historv of wrong-doing, for if so, the race would have been probablv exterminated by violence and vice. But wrong-doing, private f: •' I , 1 1 !' m ''!'i a i 58 T/ie Origin of Evil in the World. and public, has permeated all the actions of men and Women in all ages of history. In Christian times, nothing is more striking than the fact that confession of wrong-doing, by speech, thought, and action is constantly kept before those who embrace the Christian faith. The whole scope of the Christian religion is to deliver, to save, as it is theologically expressed, men and women from the guilt of wrong-doing, from its natural and revealed consequences, and also from the power of evil over the will and disposition. Among non- Christians, heathen and unbelievers, wrong-doing, though not universally acknowledged as a matter of guilt, is universally acknowledged as matter of fact. How this came to be is, of all mysteries and anomalies, the greatest and most terrible. If we theorize on the subject we m? iiagme- Eithcr that man was so created in the beginning; or that it has been a matter of evolution and development ; or that the things we call evil are really not evil, but have no moral quality at all, being simply developments and manifestations of human nature. In fact, that there is no more moral blame in a man being cruel and murderous than there is in a tiger killing his prey. Nature, it may be maintained, is always right. What needs to be changed is not the human heart, but human concep- tions and judgments — then there will cease all uncharitable fretting about what we foolishly think to be the wrong-doing of the world. This theory, strange as it is, has been put forth by certain philosophic thinkers. Th J first of these theories is not in accordance with the reve- lation as to the origin of man. For man was included amongst The Origin of Evil in the World. 59 the things that were pronounced good. Indeed, after the creation of man, tlie judgment was emphasised, and we read for the first time, that God pronounced all created things very good. And it is only agreeable to reason that it should be so. We cannot conceive that a being created with moral character and instincts, by a Being of absolute perfection, should be created corrupt and depraved from the beginning. (Reason, however, to l)e sure, is not always a sure guide in these matters. lUit revelation is.) The second theory is as little defensible as the first. For all evolution and development is but a perpetual opening up of what was in the germ at the beginning. If moral corruption and propensity to wrong was developed by simple evolution, tlien the moral corruption was there in the beginning, in germ and power. Thus we arrive by a different way to the result which has already been shown to be contrary both to revelation; and the natural reason of things. The third is contrary to every instinct and feeling known to human beings. And one cannot but think that if its advocates were subjected to some practical test, such as personal ill- treatment; if. for example, they were violently assaulted, if their houses were broken into and their goods stolen; if the honor of the family were invaded by the seduction of a wife or a daughter; they could not avoid sharing in those universal feelings of indignation against the wrong-doer, of grief and anguish at the wrong, and of that deep desire for pui.ishme-it and redress which are universal amongst mankind. It is, indeed, only grave trifling with a, terrible subject, to say that there is no evil in murder, fraud, drunkeimess, adultery, or any other of the manifold developments of what in theology is called sin. i! ft \ .'i- .4 k ! ; li ■r It' '*' ii ^'1 !. I: 60 TJie Origin of Evil in the World. But now, it being well understood that evil exists as a matter of fact in human nature and the world, that it always has been so, so far as all history speaks, even apart from revelation, and the record being that the first man and woman were created very good and perfectly innocent, it becomes a question of profound interest, how and when such a change took place, from the one condition to the other, a change amounting to a catastrophe and moral revolution. The narrativei of the third chapter is the answer. As a preliminary it is recorded that a very remarkable Tree was to be found in the garden — the tree of knowledge of good and evil — and that to this tree alone of all the trees of the garden, was attached a prohil^ition and a penalty. The man and the woman were connnanded not to eat of its fruit — not even to touch it — with the warning that in the day they ate, they would "begin to die" (begin to die, is the true trans- lation). It is vain to enquire for what reason the Su]iremcly Wise and Good should institute this test ; why He should not have placed them in such a position that they could not do wrong. To imagine reasons for what the Infinitely Wise and Good chose to do, but the reason for which He did not choose to give, is only to "darken counsel without knowledge." Such speculations are as vain as would be those of a little child as to some far-reaching and important action of a father who was rrime Minister of England. — There are some things we must be content not to know, and this is one of them. Rut what we can, without difificulty, understand, is the iiuxii- ner in which this prohibition was used as an instrument of temptation, by a being whose purpose it was to tempt. Though, in their theoretical aspect, the things recorded in this chapter are impenetrably mysterious ; yet when they are ill The Origin of Evil in the World. 6 1 regarded in a practical light, they are full of the deepest instruction. For this temptation is in essence and sub- stance, a perfect type of all temptations, and of the way in which all lapses from virtue and rectitude are brought about. The narrative is of a Serpent, who was the most subtle creature in existence, and who. by his action, is seen to be essentially evil and antagonistic to the Supreme Governor of the world. This creature cannot be conceived of as one of those who had recently been created, for all these had been pronounced good; and none of these mere creatures could have had the subtle intelligence displayed in this narrative. I^Iany of them, indeed, are now, and perhaps always have been, en- dowed with an instinct of cunning such as is needed to lie in wait for prey; but the intelligence of the narrative is specifi- cally of that higher order that is the property of man alone, or of creatures of a superior order to man. That such a being had existed previously we are not ex- pressly informed in the narrative. But the inference from the facts of the narrative is irresistible, that this serpent was no or- dinary creature, but a manifestation of a being of another order. As Scripture always throws light on Scripture, we have, in other places, sufficient indications-not such as to gratify curiosity or intellectual enquiry-but to show that this serpent was in reah-ty a manifestation of "that Old Serpent the/;/W/;,;/<' Devil, the enemy of God and man, the great tempter and destroyer of mankind. Here again, intellectually, we are in a region of profound mystery. How such a being as the Diabolos or Devil, of high intelligence and profound dissimu- J« 1:1 n 62 The Origin of Evil in the World. lation, came into existence, or came to be what he was, we have Jude V. 6. Qjjjy ygj^ {7i\\\\. hints of in Scripture. The clearest of these hints is that contained in the epistle of Jude, viz., that there were angels who " kept not their first estate " (or princedom, as the Greek rather signifies) but were cast down into darkness imtil the great day. But how or why this came to be, the Holy Ghost has not revealed. Scripture, both in the Old Testament and the Xew, reveals to us the Chief of these fallen princes as being al^le to manifest himself on the earth, tempt- ing men to evil. But why these fallen beings were allowed to manifest them- selves on earth at all is again an impenetrable mystery. But when, passing from intellectual speculation as to the cause, we come to look at and consider what we know as mat- ters of common experience and facts of history, our know- ledge, and all authentic records of the lives of men, harmonize with the Divine record as shewing : First. — That there is a mysterious power, out of ourselves, which makes for unrighteousness; suggesting evil, putting it attractively to the senses and passions of men and women, drawing them on, generally most insidiously and by stealthy approaches, to the harboring of evil intention or the commis- sion of evil deeds. Second. — That men and women who have fallen under the power of evil once, are in danger, unless the evil is checked from a higher source, of falling again, the one act tending to become a habit. Third. — That when the habit of evil has been established, the person under its influence tends to become a tempter of others, an instrument of the great Tempter to work his pur- poses. «;■ I The Origin of Evil in the World. e>i These things arc facts of universal experience. Now let us see what may be the practical thought suggested by this unique narrative. And, to begin, is there any reason in the selection of a ser- pent as the creature to be the medium of temptation. (i) Many creatures of the serpent tribe are extremely .beau- tiful. If we rid ourselves of associations connected with ser- pents we cannot but see in the variously colored and shining form a creature whose beauty is remarkable. (2) Its motionsi are beautiful, and its approach silent and insidious. The curves of its motion follow the very "line of beauty" of painters. Its approach through grass or leaves is indeed so insidious that the proverb " a snake in the grass " is used to express an enemy in ambush. In all these respects the serpent is admirably fitted to ex- press and symbolise the manner in which evil is presented in temptation. It conies in an attractive form ; attractive, that is, to the propensities, passions, or tendencies of the person tempt- ed. It generally steals into the mind insidiously; quietly and unsuspected. And, just as a venomous serpent has a deadly bite or stroke, so, evil in its ultimate cfifect, in the order of Divine government, is deadly to the soul. '\ i III Proceeding with the narrative, it is useless to speculate or reason upon the question, how could the serpent speak to the woman. It is sufificient to say, we do not know, for it has not been revealed. And we have a right to say, if we did know, we would be no wiser for all the practical issues of life and con- duct. But, if we consider, instead of how the serpent could speak, what this mysterious creature said, we shall at once per- I'd in \i |i! I' 'i I ■;,; '■:' I . fi; 1 Doubt as to the Divine will — as to whether the Supreme did really speak in the Word is a common feature of the scepticism of modern days with those who acknowledge a Supreme Ruler of events. 64 77ie Origin of livil in the World. ceivc that very practical issues of life and conduct are before us. The narrative is of the first woman 'f the race, who was under a Divine prohibition a^jainst doing a certain thing, on penalty of death. The mode of procedure of the subtle and cunning being who was to tempt her to disobedience will reward consideration. The first word was the insinuation of Doubt ! "Are you sure ? can it be so; that you are prohibited from eating of tlie fruit of this tree ? Does it seem reasonalilo ; that its fruit should be there, that its fruit should be within reach, that it should be so fair to the eye, and yet that you cannot eat of it. Surely it must not be so ?" The answer of the woman, at first, was a simple, open, and honest afifirniation that the prohibition was there, and in force. Even in the first words spoken there was cunning on the one side and simi)licity on the other — an exact picture of the course of tcmptrtion as it has been in tlie world from the beginning, and as it prevails in our time and day. The Evil Creature, having opened up a conversation, and induced the woman to listen, proceeds to bold denial. The threatened consequences will not follow ! " Ye shall not surely die !" On the contrary, the eating of the fruit will open your eyes ! You will understand things of which you now know nothing. Your capacity and powers will be greatly en- larged. You will rise into a higher scale of being. You will become like gods ! The deep subtlety of all this will be more apparent as we know the more of the course of tempta- tion as it afifects men and women now. It is the very same thing tliat is said, sometimes insinuated by those mysterious avenues to the human soul, which are as real as they are beyond comprehension ; sometimes actually spoken, in low and I " y- I I f I The Origin of Evil in the World. 65 dark nnittcriiigs, by one human being to another, when man or woman becomes an agent of the Tempter and speaks his thouglits to a more simple and virtuous soul. It is alwavs so. "Come with us; we will sliow^ you something of Life !" It is life in some higher form than has been known before. It is a higher development. It is a broader experience, enlarging understanding; and with enlarged understanding will come in" creased capacity, power and liberty. You will be eniancip.-Ucd from the miserable restraints of conventional rule, and beco.ne free, even as the gods and higher beings are free. Thus has many a son of Adam, and many a daughter of Eve been seduced, and has found out, too late, that the knowledge of evil by experience does not tend to elevation but to degra- dation ; that there are things it is better not to know^^v experience, the memory and knowledge of which would be better blotted out as if they had never been. The words of the Evil Creature were so spoken as to enter the woman's soul and produce reflection. And then, even as it is now, it was seen that she who parleys is lost ! This insinuation of direct opposition to the Supreme Will should have been met by an instinctive recoil, by a rising up •of loyalty in the heart, by the command to the creature. Begone ! But the woman parleyed; she considered the fatal question, shall I disobey or not ? And now, in her consideration, the working of the fatal virus ■of temptation is seen. The woman saw that the tree was— 1. Good for food. 2. Pleasant to the eyes. 3. Desirable to make wise. n \ 1 For all that is in the world, the Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, are not of the Father, but of the world. 66 The Origin of Evil in the World. These thoughts correspond closely with the three-fold de- velopment of evil as written by the Apostle John (ist John, 2-16). Good for food, — The lust of the flesh. Pleasant to the eye. — The lust of the eyes. Desirable to make wise. — The pride of life. Thus the bait is displayed, in alluring fascination, before the simple soul; as the same, in substance, has been displayed to millions of souls since. And alas ! tht allurement was too strong, She fell beneath the wiles of the Tempter and disobeyed, taking the fruit and eating it. Evil thus entered into her soul and lodged there. liii !:Jl But alas ! how this experience corresponds with another well known and universal development. Facilis deccnsus averni says the wise proverb of the Ancients, reflecting universal experience. The descent to evil is rapid and easy. Tlie woman, having done evil, becomes herself a temptress to evil. She gave to her husband; and he did eat also. That such a disastrous fall should be so brought aliout is perhaps the most mysterious part of this terrible narrative. In his case, no resistance, no consideration, is recorded. Whatever of persuasion on her part, or of consideration or hesitation on his, perhaps, of a first refusal, then of pressure^ then of more consideration, then of the working, perhaps, of a chivalrous resolution to die with her — if they were to die — of all this — if any such course of thought transpired, not a line is written. The woman gave, and the man took and ate. So they both disobeyed. Both allied themselves with the Evil Creature against the Supreme Being, the Author of their existence. The Origin of Evil in the World. 67 Again it has to be said, that speculation is vain as to how such a thing could come about in the case of two perfectly innocent creatures. God has not seen fit to tell us more than it is for our highest wisdom to know. But this He has told us for our instruction and our warning. The rest would (inly satisfy intellectual curiosity or metaphysical speculation. Notes Critical and Explanatory to Ciiaptek V. I. Of the condition of uncivilized races of mankind. The notion that the uncivilized races of men are in a con- dition of primitive innocence and simplicity, is dispelled by actuai knowledge of the races and people that have existed on the earth during the time that travel and adventure have made us acquainted with them. The nations and tribes of Indians on the North American Continent are distinguished as much by revolting cruelties and murderous passions and lusts, as they are by extraordinary capacity for life in the woods, plains, and rivers in which their lot has been cast. They know nothing, until taught by Chris- tians, of any kind of moral obligation. Each is a law to him- self—or his tribe is a law to him. But that law is a law of murder, lust, deceit, treachery, and absolute want of humanity. The history of the New England and Canadian settlements as well as the settlements of more southerly regions, and other parts of this great continent, all confirms the truth that the savage races in their primitive condition were not in a condition of innocence, but of deep depravity. tin J '«! ; u 5i ;| I ■ 1 1 1 1 , fi r ■- i ij 1 ! 1 r i ' { ' i I [ 1 1 68 Condition of Uncivilized Races. The condition of the native peoples of the Continent of Africa is similar to this. Whatever wrongs — and their wrongs have cried to heaven for vengeance — they may have suffered or are sufifering, the original condition of these numerous tribes, by universal testimony, was that of deep de- pravity and wickedness. As with the negro races of the cen- tral regions, so with the Cafifres, Hottentots, and numerous other aboriginal tribes and nations of the continent. None of them have ever been found living in a condition of innocence, where crime, cruelty and bloodshed were unknown, whete love and peace prevailed, where the common law was honestly and fairly administered, where, in a word, the law of the second table of the commandments was the rule of life. Such a state has been dreamed of by poets, anl imagined by metaphysical philosophers who denied the Christian faith. But actual knowledge has dispelled the dream. For, as with North America and Africa, so it was with the Australasian continent and the Islands of the Pacific. The Creator in these regions has wrought oat scenes of unrivalled beauty. And if it were true that the beautiful in nature softens, refines and elevates, per se, then the tribes upon whom for ages the beauties of these enchanted regions have operated, should have become refined, virtuous, and elevated in a very high degree. But the truth is that nowhere on the earth have there been more horrible developments of wickedness than in these para- dises of beauty. Murder, and cannibalism, and lust — the most devilish cruelties, the most revolting iniquities — this was found to be the condition when the veil was lifted and these lovely regions first became known. Instead of beauty Primary Condition of Fallen Angels. 69 softening, it seems to liave hardened men's hearts beyond all experience and conception. The vices and crimes of men in civilized countries, whether living in ignorance of God, or in such perverted and corrupted forms of belief as had no moral influence over conduct, have been (|nite as devilishly wicked, cannil^alism alone excepted. The contention has sometimes been that the massing of men and women in unnatural conditions in cities has been ac- countable for the wickedness of civilization; and that in a state of nature, men and women would be innocent. The light of truth dispels these theories, and shows men and women, in a state of nature, to be as vile and condenmable, as the most utterly depraved denizens of ancient Rome, or of modern Paris, London, or Xew York. 2. As TO THE PRIMARY CONDITIONS OF THE AngELS WHO KEPT NOT THEIR FIRST ESTATE, THEIR FALL, AND AS TO Satan, THEIR Prince. Revelation as to all this is almost wholly silent. Who was this "prince of the powers of the air," this awful spirit working in the children of disobedience ? What his original condition, and how could be possibly fall from it ? Wliat would not men, from an intellectual point of view, give to know all this ? But CHi bono ? What good would it do any man to know ? To know how it came about that Satan and his angels fell, is of no importance to mankind. But to know hoxv the first man and xuoman fell is of infinite importance! It is of the first importance for men to know that such a being |L| I ; 1 70 Satan. as Satan has existed, and that he still exists. And it is of the first importance that men and women should know sufficient of his wiles, devices, and methods to enable them to guard against them. And this much the Supreme Ruler of men has fully revealed. And not only has He fully revealed it in the writings of prophets and wise men of old time, but He has given a striking example how sitch cunning temptations are to be met and overcome. For as Satan tempted and overcame the innocence and simplicity of the first man and woman, so he tempted but was overcome, by the wisdom and virtue of the Second Man, Then w.-is the Lord from Heaven ! And as the laws of spiritual existence Jesus led up "of the Spirit appear, SO far as we know them, to be as certain and fixed as into the wilderness to the laws of material existence, we find that the method of l)e tenipteil of the Devil. Satan's temptation in the second case bore a close resemblance to that in the first. When the man, Christ Jesus, was led up to be tempted of the Devil, (i) There, is first : — The insinuation of doubt ! //thou be the Son ? This, ad- dressed to the human nature of a weak and suffering man, sug- gests the unreason of weakness and suffering as a concomitant of a Divine Being ; and is therefore a suggestion of doubt as to his being Divine in reality. An insidious undermining of the great fact of the Incarnation, which, had it succeeded, would have destroyed the power of Jesus to accomplish mighty wcrks, and be the Redeemer of mankind. Such a thing can scarcely be conceived of as possible. But this was doubtless the object of the subtle adversary'. It corresponds closely with the doubt suggested to Eve. Hath God said ? Is it li Satan. 7 1 reasonable to suppose that He who loves you should debar you from partaking of such beautiful and luxurious fruit as this ? (2) There is an appeal to the natural desire of the flesh. Thou art weak and hunpry. Thou needest food. Conuuand then, that these stones become food ! This was. in effect, an insidious temptation to self-indulgence (in a highly raretied form). Although it was only bread, yet in a weak state of the body, the result of long fasting, the longing for simple bread may become as great a passion, and as purely a " lust of the flesh " as the lust after wine in a man living in sensuality. A case is known to the writer of a man who, ac one crisis of his life, was possessed with the idea of contimied fasting, in the shape of absolute aljstinence, as a duty ; Init who. in moments of extreme bodily weakness and pain, had such a longing for bread that it became irresistible. Again and again, he was overcome by this longing, and partook of most sim])le food at a time when he thought he ought not to partake of food at all. the action being followed by as much torture of self-condemnation as if ho had fallen into drunkenness or adultery. He recorded acts of what he called " debauchery " in his journal, such dcliauchcry being simply the partaking of the most simple form of ft)od to appease the cravings of hunger. All this was the result of a diseased condition of the spiritual conscience. lUit it illustrates the subtlety of the temptation in the case of our Lord, viz., to satisfy the pangs of lunger against the will of th" Divine Father and the monitions of the Holy Spirit. The metJiod of resistance is as much to be remarked, and as full of practical instruction. It is by appealing to the written revelation of the Divine I i i M ■ 1 U ■ li l!!i 72 S(iia>i. Will : — " Man shall not live by bread alone." a mighty trutlv revealed through the same Moses who was chosen to reveal the origin of the world. Practically, this means that there are higher considerations at times than the satisfying of bodily wants. Tlie fulfilling of the Divine Word and Will — this constitutes the real satisfaction oi man. The Second temptation to our Lonl is of extreme subtlety, and is not analogous to that of Eve. It is a temptation to a presumptui>us venturing into uncalled for danger, in reliance on Divine protection — the Divine Word itself being c|Uoted as justifying it. lUit a cunning misapplication of the Divine Word was met and overcome by a higher wisdom in a])plying it. lUit the Third temptation is in exact correspt)ndeiice. As Eve was seduced by the vision of ambition : " Ye shall bcc(.)me as gods," — so our Lord was finally temjned by a vision of universal dominion. "A// the kinj^tionis of the i^'orhi and all the glory of them " were shown and offered. A dazzling prospect to a jioor Cialilean carpenter. I'.ut the condiiion — Renounce God and worslvp me ! On this temi^tation being presented, there is. not as before, a calm refusal, but an ou'i- break of angry denunciation — natural and reasonable — " lie- gone, thou Adversary ! It is written, The Lord God alone is to be worshipped. He only is to be served.' Thus, as in the first man and woman we have a great Beacon' Light, to warn; so in the Second Man, a very man, bone of our bone, tempted ;is we are, wo have a shining light to guide. He left us, in this respect, as in others, an example, that we slu)ukl follow in His blessed steps. Of thk I'ossiBiLiTV OF \vkoN(;-i)OiN(; in thk fiust MAN AND WOMAN. Profouiul iiK'taphysical speculation has l)eon cniplovcd on this suhjoct. invi)lviiii4" the deep (luostiun of iMVi'wiU. as it is called, in the ct)nstitution of man. It is argued to he a ne- ee^sity to a perfectly formed being of the character of man, that he should have the power of choosing wrong as well as right — that, in truth, he should he, so far, independent. Sucii speculations do not go one ste]) towards a i)ractical solution of the problem. The truth is, in regard t*) this, as well as to many other matters concerning the life, eonstitution, and des- tiny of man, there are things which cannot be understood, or canncil be reconciled with what men do understand. But experience s/iozcs t/uit there is no siihject zvit/i respect to 7i.'/iie/i greater mistn/ees hdve been nuute, than that of indicati)tg ivhat is supposed to be consistent i • inconsistent li'ith some knozon fact or established principle. Certain acts of the Supreme I'.eing are recorded in Scripture which appear to 1)e inconsistent with statements as to His justice, or His mercy, or His unchangeablencss. The two are difficult to reconcile. lUtt, the simple truth is, we do not possess the kev to these high and mysterious (piestions, and can only, in this; matter (as it is necessarv to do with regard t(^ liiany others), fall back on the fundamental con- sideration. '•sii.\LL xoT 'mi-: ji'DCh: oi- all tiil EARTH DO RIGHT!" w I* It I CHAPTER VI. Tin-; C()\si:(.)n;N(;i:s of tiif. Gkkat Disdhiidiknck. It is needful in consider- ing this narrative of tlie Fall to put aside and forget impressions from Milton's " Paradise Lost." That great work has stamped its impress on all subsequent conceptions ; especially of fallen angols ami Satan, and many objections are to the Fall as described by Milton rather than the narrative of this book. Here, as throughout the whole narrative, we find an abso- lute conformity to human nature as we know it. and as it always has been known to the men and women of all time. The first eft'ect of disobedience was a development of shamefacedness. They knew that they were naked ! An absolute unconscious- ness of evil, either in thought or will, in deed or possibility, was their moral condition as created. These two pregnant words, the " knowledg-e " that they were '' naked " open up at once a new order of feeling" and being' in their consciousness. To one another, they are not as formerly. To creatures in their moral and intellectual condition, it is probable there was a ra])id and complete development of the knowledge of evil, a knowledge that came by consciousness. The tree was the tree of knowledge of good and evil'' The)- had hithcito had no knowledge of good as a special quality, for there was nothing by which to estimate it or contrast it. All was good. P)Ut now, not by an intellectual conception, as men now study moral development, but by actual experience, they had come to know evil. They knew evil by doing it. So now, on the part of the man, there was manifested a want of love, honor, and respect to the woman. He threw upon her the blame. Tntellectuallv he was right. .She did give him of \ Irf ^ "1 Consequences of tlie Great Disobedience. 75 Love, honor, affection, was changed into selfishness and hard- (,i,jli,t jg ness of heart, the root of all evil. the fruit of the tree. Morally he was wrong. He was not com- One may speculate as pelled to take it. His duty was to refuse, remonstrate, and call '".what ' - might have to rememhrance the Divine command. But the spiritual '**5" ''""^ ^'? ' refused and poison of the serpent was already working in the veins of both. ^^|.","'^" That he is unquestion- able. Had he so done, The next development was the shrinking and hiding from the whole couise of the the Divine Presence. There must have been, previously, a ""rid might have been condition of perfect accord and communion. How the Divine ^^I'^'iged. Lves Will was made known V) these two — through what avenue '|^"Y^''■"*'"" '^ might have of sense or consciousness — wc know not. It is not needful ,iof,ei"aiKi to know. I>ut we do kncjw that their condition toward God j^^ iiefcne!*^ 1 I- I- 1 .-1 1 r rr ■ So it haS was that oi perfect love, conndence, and oneness of artcction. i,t.en in Xow, wrong having been done, as it always is and has l)een as a child who has disobeyed instinctively hides himself, so tliese two shrink from the face oi the Supreme bather when they become conscious of His presence. And, as we know it by experience, the father calls after a disobedient and rebellious child who is hiding himself, in sorrowful affection, yet with authority — " Where art thou ?" so the Divine I'athcr here, '^idavi ! where art thou ?" It is at once the call of love and the summons of authority. We have its couiuerpart. again and again, in those pleadings of tenderness, almost inexpressible, that are enshrined for all time in the propliecies of Jeremiah and Hosea, and also in the heartbreaking lament of the Divine Saviour over the folly and wickedness of Tcrusalem. history. In the answers of the man and the woman we have a perfect picture of the evasive, sr'ky, rebellious child of our own day. The man throws the blame upon both his wife and the Creator. :!»ii If j :i '! I ill il i i 1 j Ezekiel 33 : '7- Modern iiitiiiels ask Why God made tliein thus. Ij! y6 Consequences of the Great Disobedience. '■ The woman whom thou gavtst me, she gave me of the tree, The wav of ^"^^ ^ '^^^ ^^^ ' ' Here is a picture of selfish and cowardly equal.'* "*^ uumanHness — the beginning of all similar manifestations in all subsequent time. Men blame other men, or their parents, or circumstances, or their schoolmasters, even religion itelf, or the Divine Beincc — an\thintr but themselves. Yet, in self-blame all amendment and permanent reform is rooted. No hope for any man or woman until wrong is realized as of themselves. In all this the first man is a type of many who have a true intel- lectual conception, with a perverted moral instinct — they know but they refuse. The woman is as little disposed as the man to blame her- self. The Serpent, she says, he beguiled me ! As with the man, so with the woman — the fact was stated truly. The Ser- pent did beguile, but the Serpent did not compel. The Serpent denied the Supreme \'oice — were they bound to listen and believe him when in opposition to their own Protector and Father ? Once more, the word of Eve is a true picture of the word of many of Eve's daughters, in a fallen condition, in these times and other ages. " I was beguiled, seduced, by specious promises, visions of freedom and i)leasure. dress, jewels, and gaiety, or promise of marriage and home !" The beguiling is always the same in effect, though differing, it may be, in form. It is always a promise of more pleasure, more knowledge of life, more enjoyment of bea v-. The for- bidden fruit is always set forth as pleasant to the taste, beau- tiful to the eye, and to be desired to make one wise ! And the eating always brings with it the same results ; a callous selfishness and meanness, conscious self-degradation, evasive answering, hiding from man, and complete alienation from God. ^ i ■ Consequences of the Great Disobedience. yj As Burns sang — from hi? own conscious experience — of the effects of wrong-doing . — // hardens a t/ie heart, An petrifies tJie feelin' ! Thus far the Supreme as Father and Protector, a relation he has ever since sustained, and of which the most marvellous manifestation was in the gift of His Son for the salvation and redemption of mankind — that " Unspeakable Gift " as the Holy Ghost terms it by the mouth of the Apostle Paul. r)Ut now, wrong-doing and rebellion have become manifest, and the Divine Creator is also manifested in another form : that of JUDCE and SUPREME GOVERNOR. What is now Mis course and position ? It might have been indifference. It might have been vengeance, a Nemesis, pure and simple, which would blot them out of existence. Both these) conceptions have taken root in the thoughts of |)„,i, ii,^ f ■ r^ 1 t r- iT/--iTT l^'nd regard men m after tunes. God the Supreme and Infinite ! He care it ! for the little follies and (what you call) sins of poor mortals ? Absurd ! The invention of crafty priests for the purpose of bringing men and women into slavery ! The other extreme is of a Jupiter striking dead with his will ; or a pitiless superhuman monster and tyrant of Hindoo mythology, with man\- arms to strike and many heads to devour. Human misconceptions both. The Divine Revelation is of a Being at once just and merciful; of a real retribution whiidi was not physically des- tructive; the action, not of a blind X'emesis, InU of a Supremely Wise and All-good Governor, dealing with the noblest of His works, even a Man and a Woman, created in His own Image. 'III' II:; j- 1 I ■i J hi i^ *■ ^ I ! I 1, 1 u 78 Consequences of the Great Disobedience. And as we have had in review before us, the origin or first be- ginning, of creation, of the division of time for men into days of work and rest, of the relation of woman to man and man to woman ; the beginnings also of the manifestation of an Evil Being, of temptation, and wrong-doing; so now we have the origin and first beginning of Retributive Government and just administration ; a moral government which has had wonderful manifestations in the history, of mankind in general, but par- ticularly in the history of one race and people. We may look on, as the drama unfolds, and wonder what now will the Divine Being do ? What is said to these three is marvellous, as con- taining the root and seed of countless developments in future ages, as the course of human history unfolded. First to the SiiRi'ENT was the Divine sentence. In this we have a striking intermingling of the Divine dealing with the mere creature, the instrument, and that subtle, powerful Being who was the real introducer of evil into this hitherto perfect world. To the creature there is the sentence of a curse, — a reprobation — such as to make all of his species an object of shrinking and fear to human kind. There can be no doubt of a deeply seated instinct of that sort in men and women now. But the sentence is far deeper and more far-reaching, when it passes beyond the mere creature to the Evil Being himself. The sentence corresponds with the offence. The Diabolos, who had himself become the eternal enemy of the Supreme, has desired these noble creatures, created in the Image of the Supreme, to cast ofT allegiance, and become confederates and friends with him. This design is utterly frustrated by the sentence — Between the woman and her race, and the Adversary, there is to be, not friendship and honor, but enmity. The Supreme has placed it iillii 1. Consequences of the Great Disobedience. 79 there, and there it is. Human beings have an instinct, deep down in tlieir very souls, of hatred to the Adversary, even when under his influence. When absolutely enslaved by him, they hate him and his works, the vices he temi)ts them to. the crimes he has drawn them on t(j connnit. There is no hatred so deadly as between a woman and her seducer. A slave to drink or lust abhors the wrong he is doing, even when yielding to it as to an irrestible influence. In the deep mysterious workings of the human mind we see love and hatred working sinuiltaneously ; a drunkard drawn to his indul- gence by overpowering desire, yet at the very same moment hating it as destructive to his bodv and soul. Rut now we come to a word which is a seed, indeed, a word of profound mystery, with a true evolution before it, until it issues finally in after ages in the great manifestation of " God in the Mesh, which has been the wonder of angels and heavenly hosts, " desiring to look into it.'* Thou sJialt do harm to the seed of the ii.'oman, thou shalt bruise it by the heel — a sentence suggesting that the Adversary shall have such influence that the race of mankind shall never (of themselves) be able to walk with uprightness and stedfast- r.css, as a true " anthropos," as the Greeks called him; an up- looker; but with a bruised heel stumble on the road of life, and wander, whether in the realm of duty to God, or dut\- and ser- vice to man. But, and here a curtain is lifted, revealing a glimpse of in- finite possibility of blessing, the counterpart of the sentence is, "The woman'.s sekd shall hruise thv iilad!" The head, the se^t of power, will, conception, design, that shall be bruised by the seed of the woman. nn., ' I',, I ¥ h'i! ii 80 Consequences of tJie Great Disobedience. We are constrained to read this l)y the Hp^ht of subsequent revelation. Many of the things revealed in the old times were not understood when spoken. Tiie great promise to Abraham, that in his seed all the nations of the earth should be blessed, could not possibly be unde'*stood in its fulness by the patriarch, although doubtless meditated upon and profoundly cherished. In like manner this promise, or, as the word came to be used later on, this Divine Qn'cnant, could not be, and was not, understood in fulness bv the first man and woman, though its vague idea of power and victory over evil was doubtless IKjudorctl ill their hearts, and cherished by them and their des- cendants, until the fulness of time came. The sentence next was upon the Woman, as the first of the two to sin. And the sentence on her has special reference to her condition, calling, and duty, as a woman, just as the sen- tence on the man has reference and ajiplication to his duty and calling. It is in relation to cliildren that the sentence bears upon the woman with a sad severity, which has only been too faithfully fulfilled in experience. The bearing of chil- dren is to be in sorrow. The word iravail, as expressive of a deep and acute order of suffering, has become inseparably associated with childbirth. And that this is not according to the original constitution of the female frame appears evi- dent from the fact that the offspring of animals is generally brought forth without travail. The bearing of children is nor only painful, it is dangerous. To many it is the occasion of death ! No woman about to pass this serious ordeal, knows whether she will survive it or not. It is impossible for it not to be looked for\vard to without a shadow of apprehension, for the shadow may prove to be that of the valley of death ! True, indeed, has it been, that pregnancy itself, and childbirth, are Consequences of the Great Disobedience. 8 1 matters to cloud over a woman's life until the time of birth is passed, a child born into the world, and recovery complete. And well has the Enjj^lish Church ordered it as part of her services that the mother sliall j^ive thanks in public for preser- vation in time of sipfiial danjjer ! But not only in the bringing forth of children has woman sorrow. Their care in infancy, subject as they are to many diseases, is a constant anxiety, and often there is tlie heart- breaking sorrow of their early death. The husband shares this sorrow. But the heaviness of the burden of training falls on th0 woman, and all know that the death of her offspring is, as a rule, a far bitterer sorrow to tlie wife than to the hus- band. The second branch of the sentence is in the womaw's relation to her husband. She is to be subject. He is to rule. The original condition was doubtless ec|uality, an ecpiality de- veloped from absolute love and affection on both sides; an entire absence of selfishness, senarate interest or separate affection. With oneness there is no need of rule. But with disobedience came selfishness and alienation, a condition which rendered rule necessary on the one hand, and subserviency on the other. And the rule was placed with the man. as now upon him, in the altered circumstances of the world, devolves the hard toil of provision. The rule, therefore, was not ar- bitrarily bestowed. It follows inevitably from changed circum- stances. And it has continued ever since, as a condition of all life of man and woman on the earth. That the condition of rule for the man and subserviency for the woman is a consequence of a lapse from love, goodness, and piety towards God, is seen plainly from the fact that wher- Note objection to rule. See Gos])el texts. m Hi > I If il ' i I *■ ' i I 82 Consequences of the Great Disobedience. ever the departure is more marked, the rule becomes more an:l more mere tyranny and brutality; while, wherever under Divine grace, virtue and love more and more resume their sway, the rule bec'jmes more and more gentle, until it almost entirely dis- appears. With a restored Divine Image conies a restoration of the condition in which, as there is no self-seeking, and n>> alienation, there is no place for rule. The sentence on the Man corresponds to his faculty and condition. The wife is to have sorrow in the family and the home, the husband in going for^^h to his work of making ])ro- vision for them. Instead of a gentle dressing and keeping of ground, naturally and readily yielding subsistence, there is now to be a condition of severe toil and contending with con- trary forces. The labor of man is to be in Sorrow; sorrow because it is so often fruitless; because search fails to be rewarded; because the seasons will often be apparently leagued against efifort; because blight in the air, weeds in the giound. innumerable noxious insects, all conspire to ha'-ass, in- jure and impede ; because on the waters men will have to toil all night and catch nothing. There can be no doubt that thorns and thistles, or weeds corresponding to them, now, all over the world, spring naturally out of the earth ; and that to maintain any given piece of ground in a condition to pro- duce what is required for the sustenance of men, incessant labor, labor developing the sweat of the brow, is continuously necessar)'. And what is true of the cultivation of the ground is true of every department of human labor — it has become toilsome, vexatious, disappointing, not seldom disagreeable, in a high degree ; often dangerous, and leading to loss of life. i Consequences of tlie Great Disobedience. 83 A glance over the scenes of labor on the earth, under the earth, and on the waters of the sea, confirms the truth of the con- tinuity of the ancient sentence. But in addition, there seems to be hinted a change in the physical condition of man. This, however, is not clear. The word of reprobation, ' if thou eatest, dying, thou shalt die," indicates that if there had been continuous obedience, there might have been no death. Be this as it may, it is certain that after disobedience there was mortality. " Dust thou art." Of the ultimate material particles common to all things on tlie earth, the bodily frame of man is built up in life, and with a departure of the principle of life, comes a return to the original elements of which the body is composed. The dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit to God who gave it. Dcclesiastes. What profit of nil labor. There are marvellous results: lands cleared, cities built, roads made, kingdoms founded, — but what of satisfaction ? It was only after the sentence of death had been heard by the man that he gave the NAMK to his wife by which she has always been known ; and the name, considering the time it was given, was significant. Its meaning is lost in our English abbreviated form of the word — Eve. In the Hebrew it is " Chavah," or " Living," or probably another meaning may be " Life." It is as if, in this hour of depression, with sorrow before him, and death at the end of sorrow, his thoughts turned with consola- tion towards his wife, a living being, and still a helpmeet and companion, and to be hereafter the mother of other living beings, like himself and like her. Then comes a signficant passage, in which we have revealed 'I'll IDiil' W IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) X" <- WJ-, :/ 1.0 I.I *rllllM ilM - m 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ■• 6" ► V] <^ /a /: ■m^ .>> // '/ /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation ^^ V 4^ :\ \ <^ q\ 23 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 I &p ;\ 1 t i 84 Consequences of the Great Disobedience, another origin, viz., that of such CLOTHING as comes by handi- craft. The Eternal Father made "Coats of Skins" for them — not necessarily, by simple creation or miracle, but by giving them the necessary understanding how to fashion suitable materials into a required form. The Indian tribes of our North American continent are all clothed precisely in this way. Clothing and in the wool, hair, and hide of animals we find most of the like this was necessary materials of human dress in all ages and conditions of civiliza- when they were to leave tion. The fact that the material was the skin of dead animals Paradise. suggests the probability that at this time was also the origin of sacrifice for sin, in the shedding of an innocent victim as an atonement for the guilt of the person who ofTered it. This, however, is only conjectural. But we do undoubtedly meet with it almost immediately afterwards in the story of the first two children who were born into the world. The final course of the sentence on this man and woman is in their expulsion from the garden. "Paradise of Delight," is the meaning of the original words that we translate " Garden of Eden" ; and until the terrible events we have been con- sidering, a ve'itable Paradise it had been to them But now, the Divine Will was that they should live in it no more. The reason given is one of the things that cannot be under- stood. Why the eating of the tree of life should reverse the sentence of death and confer immortality it is impossible to say. And speculation respecting it is a waste of time and energy. If we refer it simply to the Divine will, we shall reach as near to an understanding as it is possible for us, until we reach a scene where much that is now inscrutably dark will be made clear. And equally, what is the exact meaiMUg of the ' 'Cherubim," Consequences of the Great Disobedience. 85 and the " flaming sword turning every way, to guard the way ci the tree of life," is beyond understanding. What we can understand is that it is not deemed expedient by the Divine Creator, now that human nature is what it is, and the conditions of life what they are, that the immortality of which man is undoubtedly susceptible, shall be an immor- tality in this world. Immortality is to be in no earthly Garden of Delight, always mocking the eager quest after happiness ; but in a spiritual and heavenly one; that Paradise in which there is no need of earthly sun or moon, but of which the glory of God and the Lamb are the Eternal Light. There, nor zvaxing sun, nor waning moon, Nor stars xvith courses bright. But the Lamb in that Blest City, Sheds an Everlasting Light ; There the daylight beams for ever ; All tinknoxvn are Time and Night I II J i!i! "Ai n If ■y ^^ II n I i CHAPTER MI. The Course of the History of Man when out in THE World. Of the condition of the earth in general, or of that portion of it in which the first man and woman found themselves after being expelled from Paradise, we have not exact knowledge. Covered with herbs, grass, and the smaller class of trees, many of them yielding food, it probably was. The earth, in its natural condition, as we now know it, is either covered with forests of great trees, with underbrush, as was once nearly the whole of Xorth America, the British Islands, and most of Europe: or it is in the condition of open grassy plains, with trees and plants along the. margin of streams; or of plain and hill country, covered entirelv with a smaller growth of herbs and plants. The first can only be brought into a condition fit for cultivation by the employment of shaq? tools, like the axe; the third may be subdued easily to the purpose of man when the race is multiplied, and men render help to one another. lUit the second is that in which, at the ver}* outset and origin of things, before tools were invented, or mutual help could be rendered, a single family, or one man and one woman, could most readily find subsistence. The people of a country like Canada, or of the adjoining commonwealth of States, have an advantage in studying a prob- lem like this, in the fact that they have seen tracts of territory !' ^bbM^>b^fciiiii1f^ai-tfiW^ I History of Man tvhen out in the World. 87 in an absolutely natural condition, as formed and developed by the Creator. Along with this, they have seen men and women penetrating the depths of forests, settling down on some one spot, felling the trees and clearing the brush arounc' them; so creating, from a tree-covered wilderness, a tract of tillable ground, which, in time, by continuous labor, is developed into the Farm, with its homestead, garden, cattle, implements, and all the appliances of country civilization. The most remarkable thing about all this is the extreme sim- plicity of the means employed. At the outset, no tool beyond the axe is required, and what wonders can be wrought by this simple instrument, any one can see who observes a farm in its rudimentary stages, and looks at the forest alongside it, , It is most probable that the first man and woman found themselves in a region corresponding to the second of these conditions. The locality was undoubtedly the hilly upland of Armenia, with the valleys of the four rivers previously named diversifying the scene. The former would be covered with grass and small herbs, the latter with trees of various uses. The country would doubtless correspond with much of that in which the Indian tribes of the American continent found subsistence for ages, and in which many European set- tlers found a country almost made to their hands. The soil would be prolific and easy to till. It must have been so at the beginning. Tools were not needed in the Garden. Its trees yielded sustenance, and its soil was not tilled. But innnediately on the first man being forced out into the outside world, the de- cree was that he should "till the ground" — and this as a matter of necessity. Thus began that process of " subduing the earth " which was impressed on the race as its destiny from the begin- ning, and which, as men have multiplied, has resulted in the "r - i.ii s) ■{{ " ^•' ill. m rriml if ■ Mi 3i, I 1 I li 88 History of Man when out in the World. wonderful extent of cultivation in various continents as we now know them. To this cultivation, tools are essential. Of their origin we are told nothing. But at an early stage of the story of Adam's posterity, we meet with a man of whom we have the remarkable statement that he was " an Instructor of every ar- tificer in Brass and Iron " — indicating that before his time working in brass and iron had been invented and practised. Be this as it may, one thing is clear, that the life of Adam and Eve, as now to be lived, was one essentially different to that of the Paradise. Instead of a subsistence ready to their hands, in the trees and herbs specially provided, subsistence has now to be obtained by cultivating the ground; always a matter of toil, often of vexing difficulty, and not seldom of wearing dis- appointment. The life that has been lived by all their des- cendants has now begun, and although, in the order of Divine wisdom, good has been brought out of evil, and adversity made to yield its " sweet uses" men cannot but long at times for another order of development for the world, and for an absence of that pain, danger, accident, and not infrequent death, which have m;,'.:ed the actual development of labor on the earth. This is specially so when we include within our consideration the toil of slaves. When we think of all that slavery has in- volved, of the crime and bloodshed, the kidnapping and trans- porting, and then of the cruelty often developed by the bondage itself, men may well wish that the labor of the world had never been such as it has become as a direct consequence of the fall of man. Still, under remedial influences, of Divine origin, which began to operate from the very beginning, labor itself has become a medium of higher discipline. Not only has it brought about marvellous results in the development of the Storj' of Adaiii's Sous. 89 powers of the earth and the sea, bt't it has, in the mind of man himself, developed courage, patience, perseverance, hope, as well as that activity of intellect expressed by the proverb, " Necessity is the mother of Invention," I !| I 1 The Storv of Adam's fikst two Sons. The beginning of the l-'amily history of the world is only too true a picture of its continuation. Modified as is the progres;; of human development, by higher influences tending to virtue, (and this must never bo lost siglit of in considering the devel- opment of human nature in the world) we still see, only too often between brothers, a rising up of jealousy, anger, evil purposes; and, in embryo, if not in act. all that was done by the elder son to the younger in the very first family that lived in the world. The story of the two first brothers is significant religiously as well as morally. These two sons, the elder called Cain, or " Acquired," the younger Abel, or " Breath." followed what arc now and have always been, the two leading branches of the agricultural industry of the world.. The elder cultivated the ground. The younger became a feeder of sheep. The up- land plains for the one — like the downs of southern England, the hill-sides of North Britain, or the vast inland plains of Australia ; tl:e lower grounds and valleys for the other, where a richer soil readily yielded crops to the simplest form of husbandry. There could be no ri\alry or jealousy between them as to their occupation; no dispute about boundaries or landmarks. One might suppose that these two would live out their lives in perfect peace and harmony. But, as so often since. l.i.»' 111 ,if:; id. r w Id 3 I I 90 Storj' of Aiiatiis Sons. it was in religion that the occasion for quarrel arose. And it is noticeable (.and most significant in view of future develop- ments) that it was not in respect to the higher matters of re- ligion, not as to the God whom they should worship, but as to the forffi their worship should assume. We are told that both the brothers brought an offering to the Lord. It is evident that by this time religion had taken the form, not simply of prayer and praise, but of offering, and so, indeed, it has ever sir.ce continued, in all forms of true religion, and in many forms of false. Both Cain and Abel conformed to this requirement. To that extent both were obedient, and both presented of that which naturally arose from their avocation; Cain of the fruit of the ground, Abel of the best of his flock. The narrative is that Abel's offering w?s accepted, and Cain's rejected. But the reason is not assigned. It has been generally concluded that the reason of the difference was that in Abel's offering there was an acknowleflgment of the Divine sentence of death as due Hut the ° Holy Spirit ^^ §;„ . ^nd an acceptance of Divine mercy as revealed by in the New ' •' "^ 'lestament ^\^^ substitution of an innocent victim slain as an atonement. speaks of offMing as Gain's offering, on the other hand, bears the aspect of an offer- If. of' belief '"8" "ladc by an innocent dependent creature, such as the first obedience to "^^" might liavo presented in Paradise. And probably, to Lord."'"^^""* judge by the Divine action, there was a deliberate ignoring of the necessity of the offering of life in sacrifice. It is impossible not to see that this is a reasonable conclusion. Abel, coming as a sinful man, presents his slain substitute as a propitiation, and is accepted. Cain comes with an offering of thanks to the great Creator and Provider, ignoring his own condition as a wrong-doer needing mercy, and ignoring his Stoty of Adam's Sons. 91 relation to the Supreme as Lord of morals and conduct. Abel's offering was of the lambs of his flock. In this, it is impossible not to see a foreshadowing of the lambs subsequently offered by patriarchs and priests, also of the redeeming lamb of the Passover, and, above all, of "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world." All these became realities in the course of human historj-. Does not Cain's offering represent natural religion, the offspring of man's reason, ignoring reve- lation; whilst Abel's is the offering Divinely ordained, and fitted to the circumstances of men who have done wrong and need forgiveness ? The one could not but be rejected and the otlier accepted, according to the operation of those laws of 1^1 oral and righteous government, which are as unchangeable as the laws which govern the realm of the natural world. The colloquy between Cain and the Supreme Governor brings out the principle on which the Divine government has ever been founded — " If thou dokst well, shalt thou not be accepted? If not well, Sin waiteth at the Door," i.e., for its retribution." Do well, and live; the rule of the Old Dispensation, is the rule of the the New Dispensation also. But let us understand. Do well, included, under the Old Testament, the acknowledgment of wrong-doing, and the offer- ing of sacrifice. To do well, under the New Testament, also includes the acknowledgment of wrong and the offering of sacrifice, viz., the presenting with the mind and heart, before God, of the One Sacrifice offered by the Son of God for ihe sins of the world. The law of moral righteousness was the The expression Sin " lieth at the door," has given rise to some curious comments. Hut its meaning is on the surface. Sin lies there, and has to i>e dealt with. Of the various forms in which forgiveness of sin is referred to, not the least expression is that wliich speaks of it as a "semi- ing away." I ! i 1 li« .1' i iV: f?TT ill, 11 f i We have preserved 93 Storj' of Adams Sons. same under both Covenants. Under both, men were made ihis idea in bitterly to feel that by the deeds of the law no man could be the word justified. Under both there was, as a fundamental condition of acceptance with God, the presentation of sacrifice for siti. which simply me.ins .wav."'^\Ve These have been made universally obligatory, being founded same idea in o" the deep iustinctivc sentiments of mankind. the word remit, as i!!T;.,'" But now we have unveiled one of the saddest scenes of all 'ro'iem^! is human history; the first jealousy, the first breaking out of to send oft" from wlieii ccinies the from wiieiiJe ^ugcr, the first violence, the first murder ! Is not this deed fori-iven. application of blood the explanation of the words of the great Teacher, to the (loiii^; that " the Devil was a Murderer from the beginning " ? away with puni>hment To what can that saying be applied but to this murder of by remitting it. \ow Abel, incited by him in the rousing of angry passion and when sin is said still to devilish hatred in the elder brother ? The old serpent was now lie at a mans door, in the world. uot oulv bv his devices raising up man again.>t It plainly ' • » i o implies that God, l)ut man against man, and using religious rites as the remitted, pretext, as onlv too often since. It is not, (as some would- sent away or ' - ' ^ be-wise men foolishly say) the religion of God which has been at the root of the cruelties and murders of Christian times by the so-called Christian Church. These things have always been of the Devil, who stirred up the passions of priests and infjuisitors against the disciples of their time, even as the Scribes and priests were stirred to anger against the great Master in His day, and finally murdered Him. In the story of Cain and Abel we see reflected the persecu- tor and the persecuted of all times — the saints and prophets of the Old Dispensation, the confessors and preachers of the New. And as persecuting, the stronger, the more powerful in Church or State, inspired by jealousy of goodness, jealousy of influ- ence, fear of their example, hatred of their testimony, deter- Story of Adam's Sons. 93 mination to be rid of r.ieni at all costs. It was after the Divine colloquy with Cain, and the pointing out the way by which he also might be accepted, that the outbioak leading to mur- der took place. He evidently disregarded the monition, and opened the way for the great Adversan*- to take full possession of him. It is even so now. The Divine word comes to many a man, (by preaching, reading, monition of friends, and what not) who disregards it, ignores it, and becomes more wicked than before by that very disregard. It is certainly true, as matter of fact, and not simply as a doctrine of theology, that the Divine word is to some a "savor of death, unto death." And it comes naturally to be. The disregard of warning and ad- monition hardens the heart, and prepares the soul for overt acts of wickedness. It was the disregard of the Divine admo- nition by the mouth of Jesus that pre])ared the way for His murder by the chief priests. rt" I l:'Hi j; *:i tl» -I ' 1 :i The Progressive Development of evil in the world is as noticeable in the case of Cain as of his father and mother. After the slighting of the monition, came the nun-der. After the murder came on a defiant hardness and callousness of con- science, with also a defiant deceitfulness and lying. Where is tliy brother ? asked the Eternal Father. The ready lie leaps to the mouth, "I know not!" The Devil, by the mouth of the Divine Teacher, is charac- terized as the Father of all Liars, and it is terrible to see the development of his power in this the earliest family of the world. The lie is repeated, in another form, in the query which has passed into the universal language of man, " Am I my brother's keeper ?" Everywhere, and ever since, all the i i i 94 S/(>rj> of Adanis Sons. worlil over, that query has been the mark and sign of a brutal and hardened nature, the nature of a villain. And the answer has been the signification of a Divine law with regard to murder, the blood of /'•'.' murdered one cries aloud for retribution! It has always been so. in all ages and countries, and it is expressed in the proverb in our language. Murder will out ! The sentence would doubtless have been death but f')r the consideration, who is to inflict it ? There might have been other children of Adam and F.ve. but there could scarcely have been any competent to take part in the apprehending and exe- cuting a sentence of death upon this desperate man. Instead of actual death, the sentence was a living death: a banishment from the society of father, mother, and all human kind. To be " a fugitive and a vagabond on the face of the earth" was to become the first Outlaw, ilie first transported C<'n- vict, the first whose hand was to be against every man, and every man's hand against him. So he went out — and. signi- W.intieiing .... is thesifjnifi- ficantly, the land he went to was called "wandering." mdicatmg c.Ttioii of the Hebrew an aimless, restless,unhappy life — ever seeking and never find- ing, — " seeking rest and finding none." A place for repentance may have been found, even for such a double-dyed transgressor as Cain. At any rate, it is amongst his descendants that we find the origin of many things that have subsisted in the world ever since. The origin of the Xomad life, of the tents with flocks and herds. The origin of instruments of Music, the harp and the pipe; the one the first stringed instrument, the other the first wind instrument. wonl Nod. (.lenesis iv. 1 6 to 23. Story of A (id Ill's Sons. 95 The origin of Tools and cutting instruments. Clenesis iv. And finally, the origin of poetical and rhythmical compc- 161024. sition. n r The more closely this book of Genesis . studied, in relation to man in the past, and also to his condition in these times now- present, the more we shall marvel at its accurate correspon- dences; and at the number and variety of the things which took their rise in the tarliest period of the dwelling of men un the earth. We may notice, too, how utterly absent is the element of fancifulncss, or foolishness, such as fills so large a space in early secular writings in all the languages of the world. Every one of the incidents related, even where is the manifest immediate execution of Divine power, and the working of forces that are not in the world now. has a distinctly practical aspect. These incidents bear upon the life of men as now liveil in the world. Adam, Eve. Cain, Abel, are all types of men and women as we sec them, and have known and read of then. The circumstances that befel them, their temptation, their weakness, their seduction, their fall; the retributive justice that overtook them, are all instinct with practical instruction. And this is precisely what differentiates these biographies of Scrip- ture from the fanciful, foolish, and even absurd and licentious stories of the earliest mythologies, in which is found no lesson, no example, no warning, nor anything that has the least bearing on the conduct of any man as now living and acting in the world. •^ J ! M i . \ Genesis 6. CHArTER VIII. Noah ani> tiik Mi;n ok his Timk. For luanv gicncrations the course of hutuan history is re- corded in Scri])tiire by Httle more than a .ueiiealos;ieal table. Only one man is noted as being- or cloinjj what was worthy of record. This brief note is like a beam of litrht shiniti}^ out in a long era of on the man, and lifted him far above the lot of ordinary mortals. The record is " Uc :^'heaval by which the habitable world was flooded, a gradual shortening began, which, in the course of generations, brought the limit of life to be what it is now. The Ninetieth Psalm makes this evident. One thing is however, clear, that the generations before the flond. had come, by that time, to be characterized by an extra- ordinary develo])mcnt of Wickedness. The picture is of a world given up to corruption and violence, when men jf great stature and strength dominated at will, following tiie bent of natural inclination without check. A state of society is hinted nt like that of California in its early days of mining develop- ment, when crime, lust, and lawlessness abounded; when the only rule was the rule of the strongest, and the strongest men were the most wicked. The earth was corrupt. This is repeated with emphasis, (iod looked upon it and it was^v/vv///,- for all flesh had lorruptcd His way upon earth. This doubtless refers to the relation between man and woman. It was also "filled with violence." That also is repeated emphaticallv, reminding us of the dark scenes of cruelty and bloodshed of the native tribes of Central Africa, of Ashantec, with its human holocausts; of I'ganda, (iazanguela. and the horror of the slave hunts and the slave trade. " l-'illed with violence." as Rome was in the early days (if the Empire, when murder, and lust, aiul ])oison. and blood, were almost everyday incidents of life; and not of savage life, but of a life of highly developed civilization. And cf)niing down to modern times, what could more accurately describe the dreadful davs of the French Reign of Terror than tk.is old dcscriptioti of a world utterly corrupt and wholly given up to violence ! Thus human nature survives in its develop- ments through long ages, despite all change in manners, arts, governments, and civilization. ill I tt iJll m\ 'S I I: ' ^1 ft I 1 1 'i: 98 Ahm/i and the Men of his Time. The revelation now is of utter weariness of the world as it had come to be, on the part of its Creator, as expressed by the words, " It repotted the Loril that he had made man, and grieved him to the heart." This ascription of human feelings to the Creator has been objected to on very insufficient grounds. For, granting that the Divine Being is conscious-, that lie is capable of thought, design, calculation, purpose — that He can approve, and find pleasure in the works of Hi- hands, and pronounce them good; how can the converse of this not be true, viz., that he finds pain when his work is marred. What more according to sound reason than tliat the Divine I'eing should be wear>' of the perverseness, the folly, the degeneracy of the race; and almost wish he had never created a being like man at all. This is how men feel; and. let us remember, that this approving the right and being vexed with the wrong, is part of what is peculiar to man amongst conscious beings. — It l^elongs exclusively to humanity. It is part of the Divine Image, the highest and finest part, the truest and most perfect mirror of the i'eing who is righteousness in essence, who cannot but abhor evil and approve good. The expression, therefore, that (lod was grieved that He had ever created man, is agreeable to analogy and sound reason. If it is said that the declaration that the Lord repented that He had made man is inconsistent with another declaration thai " God is not a man that He should lie, nor ttie son of man that He should repent," let it be considered that the two de- clarations are made under wholly different circumstances, and that the meaning of the words is dififerent. The one declara- tion is that of a perfectlvi righteous ]>eing who "repents" tliat he has made man in the sense o? bitter sorrow for the wreci< and ruin of the noble nature He has created. The other is that He cannot repent, in the sense of being a fickle, change- able creature who forms purposes and changes them without reason. r>oth these correspond with what is known of the working of the mind of man. A father of high and noble nature, wh- - has spent pains on the education of a son. and lal)ored muoli to place him well in the world, if that son turns out ill. year after year, bringing dishonor upon his father's house. canni>t but be " grieved at heart," and some shade of what is hen- called " repentance" will undoubtedly cross his thoughts at tin.es, and a wish that such a son had never been born. On the other hand, the same man. being a man of perfoct and tried probity, whose word is his bond. — should some doubt be expressed as to whether he will fulfil a nromise, would un- doubtedly exclaim. " I am not the sort of man to repent and change my mind — when my word is given, it will be kept. Have T said — and shall T not do it :" Thus speak men, and it is through this mirror of humati Xoa/i and the Men of his Time. 99 i'J nature — the Divine Image — that we can understand what can be understood of the workings of the Infinite mind. But if the whole conception of the Creator (should a Creator be believed in at all) be that of a simple embodied creative " P^orce," subsisting in an impassive calm throughout etern?d ages, and never moved to either pleasure or displeasure, either joy or grief, it is undoubtedly impossible to conceive of such a one being grieved at heart. But man himself has a far higher nature than such a Being as this, ^loreover, the works of crea- tion are full of suggestions of good will. The design manifest in nature is not only of orderly arrangement for existence, but of benevolence, and considerations pointing to the happiness of sentient creatures, such being planned for precisely as a good father makes provision, in his household arrangements, for the happiness of his family. It is inconceivable that the Originator and Sustainer of the world in which human beings are placed, should be in- ferior to His own creatures, That fundamental enquiry, " He that formed the eye, shall He not see?" applies to the higher faculties that are the glory of man. The Being that created and sustains man must be one who can love, can have com- passion, can judge righteously, can pursue great and noble ends ; and as it is a sign of a low and ignoble nature in a man to be indifferent to wrong-doing, and of a truly great and noble rature t j hate evil, the Divine Being must be conceived of as hating the wrong as well as loving tlie right. And as man has been created with a capacity of governing, judging, and ruling, on a very large scale, even extending to tlie governing of gloat empires, all with a view to the encouraging of right and the putting down of wrong, so the .Supreme Sustainer of all, by whom all things consist, and are held in their firm order, nmst have the ca])acity to rule in righteousness, by repressing and putting down wrong-doing. Andj as men do all this ac- cording to the measure of their capacity and intelligence, so with the Divine Being, according to His power and wisdom. Furtlier, as the measures of men in the high sphere of gov- ernment are often misunderstood, or not understood at all, simply from want of capacity in men of lower spheres to under- sland thtm, so, but in a far higher degree, is it with the deal- ings and measures ascribed to the .Supreme Ruler of the Unl verse. That " His ways" should be " past finding out," only indicates that the men who attempt the task have not sufficient cajiacity for it. All this has direct bearing on the design of the Supreme with regard to the wicked and abandonecl race that now^ in- habited the earth. That purpose was of destruction. The race of man had been about fifteen hundred years upon the earth, and had become utterly corrupt. They were unfit to live — as indeed has been the case with other races and tribes lit iii '11 I- iff % ^ ^^ n ^ !i :ii ■ f i! I, !i i :ii 1l IS ■ I lOO A^()f what was to happen, throw light on what did happen. It was much more than a flood. It was an overthrow of existing conditions. T.ut there was a puq^ose of mercy along with threat of retribution. This has been the order of Divine gov- ernment from the beginning. A delay t)f one .'umdred and twenty years was granted. This, we are told in the New Testament, was in God's long sufifering, not willing that men should perish, but that they should come to repentance. The time, however, must be measured in relation to the length of men's lives at that time. Alen lived ten times as long then. This time of delay would be ec|uivalent to about twelve years of a modern life — an ample time for consideration, repentance, and amendment. One man, and one family, were conspicuous in this evil gen- eration. Xoah, whose name signifies " Rest" or " Comfort," w as distinguished for goodness. He was a " just" man — as opposed to the men of lawless violence; a perfect man — perfect in the Scripture sense of the word, viz., sincere, upright- minded, free from double-dealing, licentiousness, and corrupt transactions; and he, like Enoch, re vi'/X'tv/ tiv'/// God. A godly man, having the fear of the Supreme Lord before his eyes, amidst godlessness and universal defection. ( )ne of the most beautiful of classic stories is that of the son of Ulysses, who, in his travels, was accompanied by the goddess of wisdom in the form of Mentor. This presence surrounded him as a guar^l, and he, so long as he faitlifully kept by Men- t< r's side, and walked with him, was guided and kept. Xoah, naturally, was a man who witnessed for righteousness. Tlie Xew Testament writers speak of him as a mau of faith who believed God, and acted on his conviction, by doing a vers- extraordinary thing, viz., building a vessel in the midst of dry land, whose only use could be to float on wide-spreading waters. This of itself was a striking form of preaching; and, in doing this, he "condemned tlie world," who evidently did not believe the threat of impending catastrophe. But doubtless he was a preacher of righteousness by word of tnouth, remonstrating, warning, beseeching, as the true messengers of God have done in all ages, down to these times. These men. men of justice, and righteousness, and purity, are the salt of the earth now. and have 1vickedness. have been suffered to curse the earth. — Herculancum and Pompci had their developments of gross wickedness too; but they were not as variously wicked as Rome. The New Testament, however, teaches us that many of the things that happened in these olden times were types or ex- amples for the admonition of men of subse(|uent ages. Pmt it is dear that the Divine retribution has not always reference to the life now present. Retribution for wickedness as cer- tain to come to pass in the eternal world is plainly revealed, and also the possibility of repentance, and consequent f!e- livcrance. For this Flood, in many respects, was a Type. As to the Flood itself, it was evidently brought about by a 'Mil m if? lit m 102 The Great Flood. \ ' 1 cataclysm of the same nature as that by which the bounds of land and water were fixed in the ages before man was created. I'he narrative tells us, very briefly, not only that "///<• icimioivs of Heaven icere opened^' so as to produce extraordinary rains, but tiuit t/ie Fountains of tlie great Deep were broken up. — i his clearly intimates a violent disturbance of the relation between land and sea, and an overflow of the waters of the ocean. It seems to have been the last of the great eras of elevation and depression in the world, but operating only over the region between the JJlack Sea, the Persian Gulf, and the Caspian Sea. But this was then the whole habitable earth. What sucli a convulsion may effect, when on a very small scale, may be understood from what happened in Xew Zea- land about the year 1890. One of the most interesting of the natural objects of Xew Zealand was the series of lovely cataracts called liie Pink Falls, from the color of the rocks around them. The region round about was so actively vol- canic, that the verj' ground in places was hot. A recent traveller (Mr. Froude), has given a vivid description of the perturbation with which his party travelled over a district where the internal fires were so near. Shortly after his book was published, a terrible convulsion shook the whole region. A violent upheaval of the land took place ; and now, where there was a valley, there are hills, where there were hills, there is a depression; while every vestige of the Pink Falls has dis- appeared. Such, we may conceive to have been the convulsion which let in the waters of the ocean on the region first inhabited by our race, and which depressed the mountains below their level, with a corresponding elevation of the bed of the sea. In addition to which, an incessant downpouring of rain swell- ed the rivers and streams of the land. One man and his family had believed the forewarning, and made preparation as directed. A vast structure had been prepared, capable of floating on the deep. This was not a Ship. It was not designed for movement. It had neither sails nor rudder. Its sole pur- pose was to float; holding within its vast interior, not only the familv of the faithful man, but two and two of all the tribes of animated creatures then inhabiting the earth. It was apparently about 450 feet long, 75 feet broad, and 45 feet high, and corresponded nearly to the size of one of the largest of the steamboats of modern times. Its interior was in three divisions; doubtless for the proper housing of the various orders of creatures who were temporarily to inhabit it; with stores of food for their use. It had a light (not a window, as in the authorized version; the Hebrew word sig- nifies a light), evidently running round the whole vessel, about The Great Flood. »03 a foot and a half wide, and doubtless so contrived as to light most of the interior. This huge vessel was built under Divine direction; its size and character being arranged by Him who is the Supreme Architect of the Universe, whose orderly mathematical ar- rangements in this and other worlds, calculated in the depths of Infinite Wisdom, are the wonder of all who look into them. The cavils of unl)elievers respecting tl.e size of this ark must be set down to simple ignorance, or want of consideration. It is impossible, at this distance of time, when thousands of years have elapsed, that anything can be knowai with certainty as to how many creatures were to enter the ark, and what space would be rcciuired for themselves and their food, along with provision for Xoah and his famil> . All computations and esti- mates are mere vanity. They rest on no solid basis. They amount to mere guesses. The unreasonableness of such cavils may be seen from this one consideration; that if a vessel of the size descril)ed would not have been large enough, it would have been jierfectly easy, in the time given, to have 1)uilt one twice, or four times the size. But, as the narrative describes the building of the vessel to have been under Divine direction, it is absolutelv certain that its dimensions were suffi- cient; and no more than sufficient. He who framed the solar system, and weighed and measured all its parts; He who ar- ranged the balance of the proportions between land and sea with mathematical nicety, He directed the vessel to be built of such a size as is described. And we may rest with an absolute assurance that it would exactly answer its purpose. Men make mistakes in designing and building; but God, never. As tr the objection that such numbers of living creatures c( uld not be sfot into the ark at all, and could not live there as long as is stated, of what possible value are such guesses, when made in ignorance of thei numbers and character of the crea- tures. It is a honielv simile, but if one considers what number of dififerent specimens of the animated creation are now gathered and kept within a menagerie, or in zoological gardens, we may form some conception of what might be done in the case de- scribed, when it is evident that a Divine Providence was guid- ing the whole operation. The foundation of the whole narrative is that of a special Divine interference, both of retribution and deliverance. Ad- mit this (and why should it not be admitted, if there is Divine government at all) and all falls into proper place and proportion. To build such a structure in the midst of a country where no water existed on which it could possibly float, was a demon- stration of extraordinary Faith. The New Testament tells us, in the words of the Lord Jesus Christ, that whilst the ark was preparing, the course of the world went on as usual. — Luke 1 7 : 26, 27. i liilii Hfi. «iJ .li' % t'4 tv?/ Flood. Men ate and drank, they married and were given in mar- riage, up tt) the very day when the convulsitjn let loose the waters upon the earth. For a period e(|ual to twelve yeu's of our lifetime this apparently idiotic and absurd structure wai being proceeded with; being, doubtless, the standing jest of the men of the time. 'Ihe whole affair is a type. Men in these Christian days who regulate life by considerations of a future judgment are ecfually the object of more or less ritlicule ur suspicion. Tliey are either enthusiasts and fools, or liyi)ocritical knaves. Tlic gineral condition of society naturally modifies this condition of things. When a whole comnnmity is largely under Chris- tian influences, then this habit of living in view of an eternal work! and with regard to the revelations, promises, threatcn- ings of a Divine licing, is so much the manner of the ])eop]e that no one is singular who is governed by it. lUit let such a state of things arise as in the I'rench Revolution, when god- Icssness and vice were the predominant tone, what then would the life of a man of faith be ? It would l)e the experience of Xoah repeated. liut the ark being completed, and fashioned, as another ark was. nianv atres afterwards, in exact accord with Divine direc- tion, preparations were made for the entry of Xoah and his family tvi the place assigned them. " Come t/ioii, and n/l thy Itousc, into the avk" 'I'lius spake the Creator and Supreme Judge. Seven days were allowed for the many arrangements necessary for the entry of such a nudtitude of beasts and fowls. There was a distinction made, even at that early stage, between clean and unclean creatures. What that dis- tinction was, we know not with certainty. Possibly it might c(rres])ond with the ilislinction between wild animals and do- mestic. That would be a difference founded on the natural use and order of things. The details furnished in the law of Moses were not introduced for many ages afterwards, but as they were Divinely ordained, it is possible that the same dis- tirctions were made known in these earlier times. It matters not. The (^nly i)oint worth noticing is that the clean animals were to enter the ark in sevens, while those not clean were to be by twos, the male and the female. I'.ut the fowls of the air were all to enter by sevens. As to the means employed to get these creatures into tho arls ; many, if not most, would enter without difficulty, being accustomed to be led or driven by man. All domestic animals and fowls wotdd thus enter naturally, as if driven into a ff)ld or led into a stable. The wild animals and birds not domes- ticated, must have been made subject to some impulse, such ris even now possesses wild creatures when there is a premonition of The Great Flood. 105 ■i>; impendiiijj clanger. It is well known that in such circum- stances, the fiercest and most untamable beasts will become as quiet as domestic animals. All being safely housed in the ark, we are significantly told, " The Lord shut him in ! " So, in (|uiet and calm, was Xoah and his family enabled, faithfully conunitting themselves to the Divine protection, to wait the coming catastrophe. The Flood came. The waters prevailed over the earth. The Ark was lifted up. (How graphic and natural the narrative is, as of an eye-witness.) The ark *' iveiit upon the face of the waters" and the event proved that it was capable of answering its purpose and housing in safety all those, both of man and beast, who were hereafter to continue the races of animated beings in the world. All others perished; perished by their own fault; first by their exceeding wickedness, second by their folly in disregarding the long period of warning. And, as is the order of a government of this world (and the denial of revelation does not alter it) the children perished with their guilty parents ; and animals and living creatures who had no moral consciousness perished with those who had. To what purpose is it for men to cavil, criticise and find fault? All such, either believe the narrative to be true, or believe it to be, in substance, false. Believing the narrative toi be true, and that there was a Divine hand in all this, can men. with any sense or judgment, arraign the Supreme Judge as being unjust ? Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ? But if the narrative is believed to be false, criticism as to details, as bearing on the character of the Divine Being, is an absurd- ity. If it is judged to be false, on the ground that a perfectly equitable and benevolent Being could not have doomed a whole race to destruction, the judgment is unreasonable. The simile of the child of a great statesman must be used again. We are no more competent to judge of the equitableness of great acts of retribution, than such a child would be of the reasonableness, let us say, of a declaration of war in the policy of such a fatiier. Sulificient to say, that the revelation of God from beginning to end is that of a Being of equal benevolence and justice, and that there has never been any great act of retribution without some prospect of escape by repentance and amendment. And as it was in former ages, so in the Christian Dispensation. The wrath and righteous judgment of God are revealed against the wickedness of man, and that judgment will be executed. But for every individual man a door of hope and escape is open. The ways of God are not arbitrary and unequal. Men said so, in the days of the prophet Ezekiel; and they say so now. But the saying was not true then, and it is not true now. 8 M 'Hi if 'i m Si !1 m 'I m 1' mm ff^ I I 5 I Oil li i \n i ' . i- : i Uj! 1 06 'J/w Great Flood. Critical Noriis as to the Flood. As we, in these days, are not to be saved by an Ark, it is net of any special importance that we should understand all the details of its construction. j\oah understood them, ami had abundance of time to make needful arrangements. It saved him and his house. That is sufticient. What men in these days have to understand and act upon, is the way of being saved through Christ. In verse 14 of the 6th chapter, the original Hebrew gives a very beautiful suggestion. Xoah is directed to make "rooms" in the ark. The Hebrew word is " Nests," indicating such re- ceptacles for beasts and birds, after their kind, as would be both home-like and for their comfort. The God of Creation is the God of revelation and moral government. As TO THE Extent and Depth of the Flood. There is no need» from the narrative, to suppose that the flood was ever over the whole surface of the globe. The Divine purpose, in speculations on this subject, has been somewhat lost sight of. That was, for righteous reasons, tlie destruction of the race of man then inhabiting the world ; and everything that is known or recorded, points to the conclusion that the region of settlement and habitation did not, at that time, extend beyond the bounds of the four rivers that watered the regions now called Armenia and Persia. The idea that such a flood must necessarily, from its depth, engulf all the lands omthe surface of the earth, is founded on an erroneous idea of its cause; which was, as has been stated, and as clearly indicated in the Bible narrative, a " breakmg up" of the relative conditions of sea and land in that region, a subsidence' in one direction and an elevation in another; a cataclysm and convulsion like that of geologic ages, accom- panied by extraordinary and long continued torrents of rain. But there is no indication of these convulsive movements ex- tending beyond the bounds of the seas encircling Armenia and Persia. All animated life then in the earth was con- centrated there, and there the great work of destruction com- menced and ended. This view, which is undoubtedly the true one, of the origin of the flood, will enable us to understand that the mountains and high hills could be covered by the waters. The depres- sion and subsidence of the surface of the land would bring down the elevation of the hills to such a point that the waters would naturally cover them. And, on the other hand, when the period of subsidence was ended, and the land was again elevated and took the form, in plains, and mountains, and val- Tlic Uniformity of Nature. 107 leys, which it has maintained ever since, the waters would flow off to the sea once more, leaving the course of the rivers, viz., the Euphrates, the Tigris, the Araxes, as they have ever since been. The Caspian Sea. This vast inland sea, now wholly of fresh water, opening out not far from Mount Ararat, into which flows one of the great rivers of Armenia, may possibly have owed its origin in great part to this flood of four thousand years ago. This, though thrown out as a mere suggestion, has a very reasonable basis of actual observation to rest upon. Thus: — 1. It presents incontestable proof of having been, in former ages, cov.ered with sea water. 2. Its surface and surrounding shores abound in sea salt, sea weed, salt marshes, and salt pits. And innumerable shells, mostly resembling those of the sea, and such as are not found in rivers, are to be found along its shores. 3. Towards its eastern border the whole country has the ap- pearance of a deserted bed of the sea. 4. The Caspian Sea has the same fish, the same seals as are to lie found in the Black Sea and the Sea of Aral, indicating that in some remote age the water of all these were commingled in one. 5. It was evidently at one time much more extensive on three sides, North, West, and East, than it now is, and it is still slowly diminishing. All these appearances are precisely what would naturally be found in a region once covered by such a flood as Scrip- ture describes, but where, in great part, the waters have sub- sided, leaving the Black Sea, the Caspian, and the Aral separate bodies of water, and the countr\' between them a region of hills and valleys, with rivers fallen to the cViannels through which they are flowing to this day. The Uniformity of Nature. The uniformity of nature is sometimes supposed to be such as to preclude the idea of a great catastrophe like the Flood. But such a conception of the natural world as that there liave never been in it any such great cataclysms or convulsions as will alter 'the conformation of countries, the course of rivers, the height of mountains, and the depth oj valleys is contrary to facts as we have known them during this very centurv. Such conceptions of uniformity are narrow and unscientific. 'Hi m m m m ■taH-l ) ! ! ! I08 Tidal Waves. \\ < comparable only to the notions of a West Indian, who treated as idle fables the stories he heard of water freezing solid, and the covering of land by snow, la this very century, there have been convulsions in New Zealand (see an earlier paj^e of this chapter), in China, in Japan, which have altered the course of rivers and the confonuatiou of whole districts of country. Ihere is the clearest evidence that the great plains of the St. Lawrence were once a vast inland lake, and that the present expansions of the great river in,' the lakes St. Francis, St. Louis and St. Peter, are the remains of what was once an inland sea. The Mountain — so-called — or wood-crowned h.ill, at the foot of which Montreal is built, was oJice an active vol- cano, with streams of lava at times pouring down its sides. Sc were other mountains in its neighborhood. The earth, in all its, parts, bears evidence of convulsions and disturbances. There is water where land was formerly, all along the coasts of Jiritain, along the shores of the Mediter- lar.ean, and of Northern Europe. The Zuyder Zee of Holland is a modern creation. There is land where water was r'll along the lower course of the Ganges, the Danube, the Po, the Vang- tse-Chiang. A thousand years hence, when the region of the Pink Falls of New Zealand is covered with farms and flocks, a sceptic may laugh at the story that the most beautiful cataract on the earth occupied that spot, just as narrow-minded sceptics do in these days, at the narrative of the flood. Tidal Waves. A recent irruption of the waters of the ocean over many popu- lous districts of Japan, with the destruction of numerous vil- lages, and loss of many thousand lives, may enable some idea to be formed of the real nature of the flood of these early times, the causes and accompaniments! of which have been so much misapprehended. The effects of the wave — as we read in the journals of Sep- tember, 1896, were felt from Scudier to Aomori, a distance of over 200 miles in length. In a few minutes, 30,000 people were killed, and 12,000 houses destroyed. On the evening of the day of th's terrible irruption of waters, three or four shocks of earthquak.* were felt, and about half an hour later a dull booming sound was heard coming from the sea. By the most of the people, little or no notice was taken of the noise; but a few< a very few, suspected its significance, and fled inland for their lives. The booming increased rapidly in volume, until it resembled the roar of cannon. Then, huge waves, of thirty feet in height, came thundering in to the shore, sweeping ail Tid(xl Waves. 109 l)efoi u them, and leaviiip ruin in their wake. The province of Iwatc suffered the most severely, the number of people killed in it alone being estimated at 26,000. Japan is accustomed to violent convulsions, but this tidal wave, in violence, was almost unprecedented. The Bible narrative of the Deluge suggests some such ir- ruption as this. i i U\ > n CHAPTER X. The SU13SIDENCE of the Flood and the Commence- ment OK A New World. .;:) The flood subsided, the land appeared, and the ark found a resting place, not "on Mount Ararat," but on the "Mountains of Ararat," not on its summit, as has been absurdly suggested l)> Bible pictures, but more likely in some quiet valley in the mountain chain. The first act of Noah on setting foot on the present earth was to build an Altar, and offer a sacrifice of blood, thus basing the whole future life of the world on an acknowledcnient : 1. Of wrong-doing on the part of man. 2. Of Divine Justice and Divine Mercy. He thus recoirnized the fundamental distinction between the thankoffering suitable to a pure and innocent creature, and the offering of atonement suitable to a being like man. All false religions, even when observing the rite of sacrifice, fail to recognize this. The wonderfully beautiful Greek and Roman rites had their ofiferiuirs of fruit and flowers, their songs and harvest festivals; good, so far as they went. They had also the oft'ering of animals, and the shedding' of blood on the altar. But this was only in deprecation of the wrath of a capricious deity; unaccompanied by confession of sin and of law broken, and only offered with the idea of securing capri- cious favor. The gods of the Greeks were not law-givers. No cede of moral conduct proceeded from Jupiter or Apollo: hence there was no consciousness of sin in the sacrifice of their votaries, and no moral development arising out of their rites of worship. But from Abel to Noah had proceeded the tradition of sac- rifice for .Sin. and rites of worship which had their fruit in obedience to moral law and righteousness of life. And so. onward through the generations of men who were under the guidance of God, until He came who fulfilled all these ancient ideas in the sacrifice of Himself for the sin of the world. These ideas are not mythical or mystical ; and they are not obsolete; thev have their root in the nature of man; they belong to all time. Thev need, it is true. Divine direction; for otherwise, thev have been, and arc. perverted to the uses of priestcraft and superstition. But. rightly directed, they ])lace iunnanity, in its relation to the .Supreme, on a proper founda- tion; and o]ien a way to recovery of righteous living in this world, and assured hojie for the world which is eternal. I The Subsidence of the Flood. 1 II A right foundation being thus laid in the relationship o( mankind to the Supreme in spiritual things, we have a revela- tion of the true foundation on which ihe whole course of events will rest hereafter in the realm of natural things. The offering of sacrihce was accepted. And now, in order that men may enter upon the work of life, cultivate liie ground, and subdue the earth without fear, the Supreme re- vealed llis puii^ose with regard to the future in the pregnant words : " While the earth remaineth, seedtime, and harvest AND COLD ANU HEAT, AND SUMMER AND WINTER, AND DAV AND NIGHT SHALL NOT CEASE !" This covenant is prefaced by the declaration that " though the imagination of man's heart may still be evil from his youth, the ground shall no more be cursed for man's sake, r-either will Ciod smite any more every living thing." This is the covenant under which the whole secular life of man has since continued. Thus we are reminded that the changes in the rolling round of the spheres, and their relation to the sun, which bring about the possibility of obtaining food out of the earth, subsist not by forces within themselves, but are constantly kept in orderly being, by the God of grace and redemption. It is by the Divine Son of God, the Saviour of the world, that all things "consist." This reference of all natural forces to a Divine source is the only rational mode of consitlering the phenomena of nature. Seedtime and har- vest, and cold and heat, and day and night, and summer and winter, all in their respective length and order of succession, bear evidence of the same design and calculation, that the various parts of a well ordered constitution of an earthly gov- ernment do. It is not reasonable, but the height of unreason, to refer all to the operations of blinhat care I, if a million men are sacrificed ? What are a million lives compared with the accomplishment of the designs v^f my empire !" In tlie early days of the French Revolution, under the Reign of Terror. Marat and others like him were constantly clamoring for more bloodshed. "More blood," they said, "before there can lie freedom !" These had both thrown off the restraints of the Christian rcliginn. and were siniplv indulging in the natural bent of a certain order of human nature. True it is, indeed, that men called Christians, and even ministers and priests of the Chris- tian church, have pursued the same course, and plunged na- tions and coimnunities into wanton war and bloodshedding. \&c\ true. — But these are developments of human nature ; not the fruit of Christianity, but existing in spite of it. The Divme will is that tlie life of man is sacred; and this idea is enilxidied in the jurisprudence of all modern Christian nations, whose rule is that of this command as given four thousand vears asro: The Neiv Beginning of Life in the World. 113 >!; "Whoso shedueth Man's Blood, bv Man shall his Blood be shed." — Verse 6. When Legislatures, under the influence of ill-considered theories, seek to improve upon this precept of Divine wisdom, they only render human life insecure, and break down the safeguards that the Divine Governor has placed around it. 'J'hese fundamental features of the Divine covenant with man are evidently for all time, and for all peoples. Unlike the Law of 2^1oses, which was for one people; that contained much that was not suitable for universal obedience, and was abrogated, when a religion for all mankind was taught by the Son of God, these few simple commands are given to the second head of the whole human race, and bear the stamp of being universally obligatory- , in the fact that they have in them ncthing local, climatic, or peculiar. The only other matter then made known as to the Divine Covenant with mankind is the beautiful token or sign of it, viz., the " bow in the cloud," — the Rainbow. Erroneously, and from want of due consideration, it has been supposed that this rainbow was a new creation at that time. The laws of light and moisture were doubtless the same in previous ages, for there is nowhere in the Bible a record of the fundamental laws of the material world being altered. What was now done was to constitute this object, universally prevalent, when- ever there was sunshine and rain, to be a perpetual sign. "/ do set juy bozo in the cloud," for a token of safety for perpetual generations." So it was, and so, for all these long intervening centuries, it has continued to be. The rainbow has spoken to more than a hundred generations, and the word has been sure. Turning- now to the human side of the history, we find the names of the three progenitors of the great divisions of the popu- lations of the earth ; not indeed always maintained in separa- tion, but substantially corresponding to the original i)eople of the three great races of the old world. As to this continent of America, all observation of its aboriginal tribes poiius to an Asiatic origin. And the same is true of Australasia and the isles of the southern seas. One may speculate curiously, and wonder what might have been the development of the human race, had peace and virtue liecn always and universally prevalent; if, instead of men spending strength and inventive genius in subduing one another, they had always followed out the Divine precept of sub- duing the earth. The continuous depr-i', ion of savage races would then have been unknown. .' e would then have been diversities of color, from varieties of climate, and also diversities of physical development: but the dreary chronicles of debasement and wickedness that have constituted a large part of the histories of mankind, would then have been un- m ii in Hi if ii ill hi S!: 114 T/ie New Beginning of Life in the World. heard of. And the marvellous discoveries of modern times migiit have been anticipated by thousands of yean.; with results that pass imagination to conceive. Speculation, however, as to what might have been, is vain. What can be done, and what e\ery man can take hisi part in, is to fulfil the purpose of the Creator and Redeemer of the world , in the sphere, and accord- ing to the capacity he has received. When this is universally done, it will be " as the days of Heaven upon earth" ; a dream that filled the imagination of the great Jewish lawgiver in liis own time. One only thing is told of the subsequent life of Xoah, and the telling of it illustrates one feature of the whole of these Old Testament narratives, viz., that the sins and faults of even the best men are never concealed. But while these nar- ratives of good men's sins have perplexed some peo])le, wIk^si? wisdom was not in proportion to their goodness, they clearly illustrate the truth of the fundamental saying, that " tvkatsocixr things were zcritten aforetitne were written jor our learning r Certainly, this is the true end of all history. But that this end may be fulfilled, the history must be faithful. Xoah became a husbandman, a tiller of the ground. He giew crops, he planted a vineyard, he made wine, he drank of it, and lay in a drunken condition in his tent. One may very reasonably imagine that the wine of that particular vint- age was <)f some unusual strength, for both grapes and wines differ in this respect; or that, in that climate, on some occa- sion of great heat, and unusual thirst, he drank an unusual draught. The narrative does not necessarily imply moral obliquit)-, such as attaches to a man who knowingly drinks to excess, and continues until it becomes a habit of vice. But it does suggest a want of prudence and caution, and this douijt- less is the lesson intended to be conveyed. Wine, and all liquids of like character, need to be used with care. A danger signal is hung out in this narrative. Granting, for the moment, for the sake of argument, that wines may have their wholesome uses and value, how clear is the Divine voice sounding through this narrative. Bew-are ! you cannot drink freely. Wine cannot be played with. Want of care may bring about in you as deep a degradation as it did in this patriarcli. This narrative illustrates another feature of life and char- acter, viz., that one single act of wrong-doing or imprudence on the part of a good man will be remembered, when years of virtuous and honorable living are forgotten. So it is in these times, as every man of acquaintance with the ^vorld can testify. And many features of Old Testament biography ilhuv trate the same principle. This, and the whole tenor of these ancient histories, demonstrate their truth and value as records ■fij 77/6' iVezc/ Beginning of Life in the World. H5 for all time. They are not mere fables, and foolish legends, like many of the stories of old times that have come down to us. The narratives of this 15ook of Origins, that run far be- yond the foundations of the most ancient kingdoms of tlie world, are always instinct with the real life of men and women, as men and women have always been in the world. And they are instinct with practical lessons of life, even for us in these times of the Christian era. The narrative of the modest and reverent bcliaviuur of the two elder sons of the patriarch, and the/ want of it in the ytnmger, is instructive in itself. An example in the one case; a warning in the other. And the short narrative that f'>llo\'.s illustrates a principle of the Divine governnu'iT To honor parents brings blessing. To disregard and acspise them, a l.^light and curse. The blessing may not always be in the form of the prosperity of this world, nor the blight result in poverty. But blessing an> curse there are, as history and e.Nperience show. And ^cry gercrally it does come in the form of temporal prosi. :rity ; especially when the honor is rendered to a widowed mother. Most men of long experience can recall instances of young men who, in early life, endured privation and toil, in order to sustain one or both parents who had been stricken by adversity; and who, in after years, in re- markable wavs, and to men's astonishment, had openings of advancement, and opportunities of wealth which resulted in placing them in a position far beyond what any friend of their earlv vears could have dreamed of. '. erses iz-zi. The solemn words of cursing and blessing pronounced by the patriarch have, almost certainly, been much misconceived: and it may be said, with an, absolute certainty, that when the curse pronounced on Canaan was perverted, in these modern times, to the) justifying of negro slaver}-, the Scripture was unjustifiably wrested from its proper use and reasonable meaning. Rut beyond doubt, there has been in these modern times a singular corrcrpondence and fulfilment of the words spoken in these far-off acfcs. bv the second father of the race. Taking Japhet to be the progenitor (though this is by no means sure) of the races of modern Europe, it is certainly true that he has been wonderfullv enlarged. The whole of the two continents of America is now in his occupation: and by the '''^luiuest oi India and predominance in the East generally, he, through the Anglo-Saxon race, has ceiiainly fulfilled the prediction that he should "dwell in the tents of Shem." 1 ;^^ i "' i HI if U' ^ ^h:iii CHAPTER XI. The Towkr of Bahel and Confounding of Language. Genesis i i : 2 to 9. The project for the erection of a Tower of enormous height, has moral and spiritual aspects which will repay consideration. And first, it is evident that the descendants of Noah were all keeping together, instead of obeying the Divine connnand to fill up the earth. How long they succeeded in doing this is not clear from the narrative ; and the speculations and cal- culations as to the early chronology of Scripture are, as a rule, mere fanciful guesses. But, probably, not much time had elapsed from the days of the flood, considering the dififerent manner in which the lapse of time would be conceived of in the days of prolonged human life. Keeping together, they migrated, most naturally, down the valley of the greatest river of that region, the Euphrates, and finding a wide-spread- ing country of alluvial plains, with what no doubt was then a most fertile soil, rich in products, and easy to cultivate, they concluded there to dwell. Now, it can he seen how naturally the idea of a high tower would arise. They were in the midst of extensive low-lying plains, far from hills and mountains, with a great river flowing by. A rise in this river would flood the plains and destroy all the fruit of generations of labor. A high tower, so large that all could take refuge in it, and liigh enough to be beyond all danger, was thoug-ht of bv some, and the thought spread. They said one to another : — " Go to ; — Let ns build I " l^ut they forgot the Divine Covenant. Already we can see the dawning of a new era of unbelief, and departure from the Living God. He had solennily promised — and the bow m the cloud was the sicn of it — that the earth should never again be wholly destroyed bv a flood. It was surely in unbelief and faithless- ness thai this project originated, and the high tower was a sign of alienation from God, exactly as every temple of idols has been in every age of the world. The project, moreover, was to build a City as well as a high tower. Xow. tlie building of a city, when brought about l)y natural and ordinarv circumstances, carries no special moral significance, either bad or good, liut in this case, the pro- ject seems to have grown out of a determination to disregard the command to spread abroad. " Let us build a city," said The Toxver of Babel and Confounding of Language. 1 1 7 they, '^lest ive be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth," — the very thing- that the race of man was connnanded to do. — Another si^n of faithlessness and alienation. It was accompanied, moreover, b) a development of pride and vainglory. "Let us make us a NAME," — a very early devel- opement of the desire to perpetuate the name and glory of the founder of a state, or of a great warrior and legislator, or an author or philosopher, v.'ho has shed lustre over his age and country. It may be said, what possible harm could there be in this ? Are all those to be considered as doing something displeasing to God who have named cities and towns after distinguished men, or who have erected monuments and statues to warriors antl statesmen ? To answer this reasonably, we must distinguish. The essence of the wrong — if there be wrong — is the development of an evil moral duality, viz., pride and vaingloriousness. Now, this can only be, when a man of prominence and power takes means, himself, to perpetuate his own works and deeds. The spirit to be reprobated is exactly manifested by the con- queror, Nebuchadnezzar, who, looking out from the roof of his palace over the city of Babylon, broke out in the exclama- tion, "Is not this great F.abylon, that I have built, for the house of the kingdom, by thk might of mv powek, and for the HONOR of mv majesty!" Here is pride and vainglory, justly condemned and punished. And this was exactly what these people, on the same spot, more tlian fifteen hundred years before, proposed to do. " Let us build a city ; let us erect a tower reaching to heaven ; and let us make us a name !" In all ages, countries, dispensations, it has been that God abhorreth the proud. Apart altogether from revelation, it is in the verv constitution of nature, society, and of man, that the proud are cursed ! To take a most conspicuous modern example. What but pride and vainglory was the ruin of that marvellous and many- sided genius, the first Napoleon ? It was pride alone that impelled him to the disastrous Russian campaign. Recover- ing, almost bv miracle, from the terrible overthrow, he had the opportunitv of preserving his throne and dynasty by being simply content witli France according to its old boundaries. This, the sovereigns of Europe offered him. But, under the impulse of pride, still unsubdued even bv the calamities of the Russian campaign, and the defeat of Leipsic, he refused. After that came the Hundred days. Waterloo, and — " Last scene of all that strange, eventful histor)'," — St. Helena. So much for the men that magnify and honor themselves. But when a grateful people call cities after the name of tiie man who has founded the state, as the Americans have done :!! n'-i !<•' ^i •III ■ I '4 m 1 ■ 1 H i 111; . 1 1 8 'J'/w J'oiL'er of Babel and Confounding of Language. llieir Capital, ur erect iiionuincnts to a great captain who de- livered It in time oi peril, as England did in Traialgar Square, the case is wholly dirferent. There is in this, neillier pride nor vainglory, but simple gratitude, and honor of great deeds. A tower whose top should reach to heaven ! To what a height did the pride and vainglorious boasting of these people reach ! iiut there was One obser\ing, whom they had forgotten and ignored; the great Supreme, whose dwelling was in those very heavens they spoke of. Seeing that the people were set upon disregarding his will, and refusing to spread over the earth, He determined to interpose, and compel them to do what they were disinclined to do, but the doing of which was necessary to their welfare. This clinging and crowding together of a people in a small space, in cities, or in a small territory, has been repeated in these modern days, and always with evil effects. So were crowded tog:ether the cultivators of the soil in Ireland, until the land, divided and divided, and still further sub-divided, was insufficient, under any system of cultivation, for a reason- able subsistence. Then the mighty forces of scarcity and famine compelled a scattering abroad; to the enormous benefit of those who migrated, and the lasting welfare of those who re- n.ained. So, also, but in a lesser degree, did the people on the Lc-wer St. Lawrence hold together, refusing from one genera- tion to another, to spread abroatl, until here, as in another sphere, the forces of privation, and poverty, and the impos- sibility of obtaining subsistence from the land, compelled a continuous migration. Both these movements were strenuously resisted, sometimes by short-sighted priests, sometimes by politicians. But they might as well have attcmi)tcd to resist the tide. T'or the move- n'ent was in accordance with the will and purpose of the Lord of the whole earth, that the earth He had created for the service of man should be replenished and filled up. Thus, then, in these ancient times, the forces of compulsion were brought into play, and a scattering and spreading abroad effected, against the will of these people, or their leaders. The force was not the force of famine, or pestilence; it had no element of retributive punishment in it whatever. Yet it was most effectual for the purpose. The bringing about of new^ developments of language sud- denly, was certainly one of the most remarkable manifestations of Divine power that the world has ever seen. In the Chris- tian era. and these hir.toric times, we have seen the development of divers languages going on from stage to stage, until in The J'oii'Ct of Babel ami Confounding of Language. 1 19 ihcse days we have the English, the French, the German and Uulch, tlie Itahan and Spanish, and other languages in a iuUy iornied and perlecled. condition, ilut consider the time re- quired for all this. A thousand years and more of very slow development has resulted in what we see. What, then, must iiave been the exertion of Divine power which could have brought about apparently in one day, such a slate of things as is here described — tlie confounding of languages, by the creation of new tongues or dialects. Exactly how much change was wrought the narrative docs not inform us. The ordinary rule of the exercise of extra- ordinary Divine power is that sufficient shall be put forth and lu) more, to accomplish the needed result. What was the one language that was spoken up to this event, we know not. The narrative of Scripture is silent. Hebrew scholars say that the jjroper names in the family of Adam arc purely Hebrew words, and that most of the names mentioned up to the building of the Tower of Babel can be traced to a Hebrew root. They also point out that the Hebrew tongue is one of extreme sim- plicity of structure, far more so than Sanscrit, which is its only rival in point of antiquity. l^>e this, however, as it may (and the matter is of no practical importance), we have arrived in this narrative at an efficient cause of division. The language of the inhabitants of the world was suddenly so divided that numbers of men could not understand one another. Probably three or four separations would be amply sufficient for the designed purpose of scattering this multitude abroad. For what was needed, was that they sh.ould separate, not into a multitude of small isolated commu- nities, but into a sufficient number of parts to ensure efficient co-operation amongst the tribes, for the purpose of protection, and of industrial occupation of the countries and lands of the Eastern Hemisphere. And this was accomplished. They were compelled to desist from the buiUling of the city and tower, for no one of the tribes into which they were divided was able to finish them alone. So " they left ofT to build the city," " and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of the earth." i'1 ' ■ It If the place be looked at, on a map of the Old World, it will be seen how it occupies the very centre of all the lands of the earth. Eastward were the great regions that were afterwards the scat of the Persian and Indian Empires, round about them the great plains that became the seats of the universal monarchies of Assyria and Babylon. Westward, to the north, M:" I % \\h^ 1 20 J'/ic Toi\.'cr of Babel ami Confounding of Laiii^nagc. was all Asia Minor atul luircpc. Westward and to the soudx I'alc'Stinc, Aral)ia, and all Africa. So began the Mij^ration of the families which developed into tribes, anil the tribes uuo races and nations, which, in process of ages, tilled the three continents of the t )ld World, and fur- nished the peoples who, by continued migration, first from Asia, and then from Europe, are even now gradually filling up the New. The Tenth chapter of the book contains a very condensed account of this dispersion. But there is nothing of special interest tlierein, except the proof it affords of the one connnon bond of kinship between all the various tribes of the earth (for God hath made them all of one blood, as is asserted by St. Paul when speaking at Athens), and also the very brief notice of the first of those great Eastern conquerers whose history tills so large a space in subsequent ages. One of the race of Ham was Cush; who was the father of XIMROD. He, Nimrod, began to be a "mighty one in the earth ; a Mighty J^untcr b-'fore the Lord." an expression which suggests the capturing and enslaving of men ; as is probably the real mean- ing of the passage. And this very place, Babel, was the be- ginning or principal seat of his kingdom; a place afterwards to be so famous in its expanded name of Babylon. The king- dom began in tyranny, was continued in tyranny and pride, and in an hour of impious tyranny and profanity it was over- thrown. \'ast mounds on the now desolate banks of the Euphrates still testify to the fact of great structures once oc- cupying the spot, and ver\' possibly some of these mounds may contain some remains of the Tower and city of Babel. u ^ CHAITER XII. Adraiiam. Genesis 12. During many generations that intervened after the great flood, no man had appeared whose deeds were worthy of even a word of mention, save only the mighty hunter and king, Nimrod. And for him, one sentence was deemed sutificient. But after the lapse of some hundreds of years, there appeared a Man whose life, crowded as it was with incident, had more to do with the course of history in subsequent ages, both secular and sacred, than any man that had hitherto appeared on the scene of the world's afifairs. The influence of this man Abra- ham's life, indeed, is a living force, in manv directions, even in this age of the world. It is a simple fact that his name is more widely known amongst all the populations of the earth, in this centur}- and time, than that of any man that ever lived; and wherever it is known it is honored. For not only do all of the Hebrew race look back to Abraham as their v <.genitor and father, but all of Arabic or Saracenic blood, svherever found over the whole East. In fact, speaking generally, nearly the whole Mohammedan world look up to and reverence him as their progenitor, through that son of his, Ishmael, who was a true child of the wilderness, his hand against every man, and every man's hand against him, and whose character has so mar- vellously been perpetuated through all subsequent generations. For, like Abraham himself, Ishmael was to be a father of many nations. And so he became. But much more than this. By the whole Christian world, this man Abraham is looked up to as a spiritual father, the father of all faithful souls; who, because he believed God, and courageously acted on his convictions, obtained promises and blessings, wliich have not died out of the world yet, but which are living forces in tens of thousands of souls in all lands and countries, even in this age we are now living in. For all Christians, of every creed, consider themselves, as indeed they are fully entitled to do, if they are faithful, as heirs of those same promises in a high and spiritual sense, which were first made to Abraham and his descendants in an outward and secular sense. For that secular sense did not exhaust their meaning. That it did not, all Scripture is witness, and especially that 9 3 I: I 22 Abraluxiii. tcachiii}^' (jf the j;;rcat Master and llis> Apostles, to which all Christian people give reverent regard. l'"roni them it is learned that the promise of blessing to all the world made through Abraham, found its fulfilment in his descendant, Jksis CuRisr, whose ilisciples are all declared to be, in a spiritual, and there- fore, very real sense. Children of Abraham, I'lUt what was this man that he should be so highly distin- guished ? What did he do ? What did he say ? lie certainly did not say much, though some of his sayings have struck tleep into the heart of humanity, lie was not a philosopher, or a poet, or a maker of laws, or a chronicler of the times, ihit if we look into what he did, and into what he was, as revealed by what he did, we shall find it remarkable enough. The man was as eminent for his manliness as he was for his godliness. The first thing we read about him is that a Divine call or monition had been given, conuuanding him to leave his own country, and his own kindred, and to go out to a strange land. This, it is to be considered, wasi in a country and state of society where the only law of protection was that of the strong hand. Everj' man trusted to his own family, his own friends, his own connections, to keep him from being robbed and enslaved. A state of things not unlike what prevails amongst the I'edouin Arabs at this day, prevailed then. Let an ad- venturous stranger travel, even to-day, much iieyond the bounds of a city, or his own camp, and he will soon find himself in danger of being treated as the traveller was who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. The monition to Abram was a call to a dangerous enterprise, as well as to one of uncertain means of subsistence. Men. in Christian times, and in these very days we live in, have had monitions of a similar kind, and have obeyed them. But this man Abram was the first. But this was noU the case of a man emigrating by his own choice to another country merely to amend his temporal con- dition. He left his countn' at the command of theSupreme God. Abram was the first of the great army of Emigrants who have left home and country, some under stress of persecution, some to seek religious liberty, some to amend their worldly fortunes. And this brings him in touch with men's lives and conditions as known to us in this age and country. And the fact that he went when called, going out not knowing whither he went, stamps him as a man of courage and character. The inspiring motive, however, with this man, was Faith in God. and obedience to his will. That theological word. Faith, has been so sadly misused, that one might well be afraid to use it at all. But in this instance, it means simplv the w-el! grounded confidence of the weaker in the stronger ; the assured Abraham. 133 f! conviction that h'j will be preserved and cared for, so long as he was living in obedience, by the Almighty Being whom he worshipped. Uetween this kind of faith, the true faith of Scrip- ture, and sound rcnson there is not, and cannot be, any con- llict. The lesson of dispc rslon, taught to men at Babel, had been well learned by that time. Men, in all probability, in preceding ages, had been seized \^ ith that in^^tinct of dispersion which has tilled the minds of nuiltitudes of men in modern times. They had i)roceeded from the valh'ys ot the Euphrates and the Tigris, westward and southward, and cK'cupied the land of Canaan, on l)oth sides the Jordan, 'lliey Iiad roved on, across the desert, cither by way of Sinai, (jr more probably, by the shores of the great sea, until they arrived at the glorious plains of Egypt, ["here a civilization of wealth and all the arts congenial to it had developeil as rapidly as it has done, in some communities, (Japan, for ins<:ancc, and some of the islands of the South Sea), in modern times. The valley of the Jordan and its southern plain, ricii and lu.xurious beyond measure, had been occupied, cities built, and a style of wickedness developed that has given an evil name to the region for all time. Men had come to bo known by tribal designations. The Canaanites had already come to occupy the land to which the man Abram was directed to go ; fierce, idolatrous, half-civilized peoples, not differing much from the Indian nations that occupied Canada before the advent of the white man. Men had come to the condition of c^'ilization in which money was coined, bargains as to land made and ratified by formal deeds and covenants; chiefs of tribes recognized in warlike expeditions. This was the condition of the Eastern world secularly, in the time of this man. Religiously, there would appear to have been a falling off from the service of the Supreme, and the development of various forms of idolatry, such as is natural to mankind. Such was the world, as Abram had lived in it till his seventy- fifth year, an age equivalent to about forty in these days. By this time the duration of men's lives had been materially shortened, but they still were nearly twice as long as they be- came subsequently. Before Abram was called by a Divine vfucc. his father and kindred had migrated from Armenia to the hill countrv still called bv the name Haran; Iving north-cast of the land of Canaan. There his father died. Then came the Divine call to proceed southward; a call which was accom- panied by extraordinary conditions and revelations. It is these that have given this man his extraordinary pre-eminence in the world of sacred things. Yet Abram was a man of the world in a very real sense; no recluse, hermit, priest, or reli- gious enthusiast, but fulfilling a destiny in the world that then T^ lii 1 1 m^ ! ■: Ml.-: ; 1 IV \i' w 1 ■ 1, ■<*». i-M Ahii/ittni. was, aiul lakiiiL; lull -.hare in iin luMiii^; il^. allaiis and tlniu}^ \\w u ill (>l its ( ri'altii- ill il. I'lit llir Siiiniiiu' ilinst- liiiii tiiil ^|iriiallv Iti lie llir ri-ii[tuiil til Mil 11 yvvM inoiiiisis as \\\v>v ; "I will, MAM, i»|. iiiiK A limAi Naihin!" "I Wll.l, lll.l'^-^ lllli;; ANI> MAKl'. lll\ NAMh; tIKKAr; AND riioi' MiAi.r UK a hi i ^mm; !" "1 Wll.l lll.i;.ss IIIM lllAl m.l..-.^l. 1 II IIIKK, AM) (IIK:-.I': III.M MIA 1 t rUM. I II I 111' 1'. ! ■ "Ami in llll'.K MlAl.l. All. I UK lA.MII.IKS ol' I M K KAKIII UK lll.K.SSKIi !" K^Miiark.ihK' uinils iiuli-ctl, and the likr li.is not been s|nik('i» to any luiinan l»iin|;, save only tin* -nii muI ^Maiiil-.iin ol ihis man; and l<» llusc niily Ih-imiim' ii>,lii|( lo liiiii. ( >| till' tnllilnuMit (i| two ut ilu's«' ^rcal |»nMniM's, ilic !in)^,| invi'liiati' sccptit- loiild iml dt>nl(t. Thai lu' Iti-ianu' a ^\\:\\. nation llu' history of ilu- \\oiid u itiussi's, tviii down to onr own (lay. I liat his name JH-vanu' j.;nat is fi|nally iiilain, as has hct'ii oltsiTvid already; and that the pioinisf of all tlu- laniiliis of tlu' lailh Ill-ill}.', hlcssi'd in him, has hcon fnllillid in the past, ami is Iti-iii}; more aiul nion- widt'ly fnllilU-d in tlu'Si' days, no C Inislian «vir tntntaiiu'd a donhl. This Uiiul of hli'ssiii}; is not indi-rd of that ontwaitl and appiflinisihli- thaiaitiT, wiiirh rompils alti'iition. and whiih nobody tan have a doubt about. I'.nt it is riTlainly as rial. I'or iju- fnirilnu-nl of the pidinisi' was tlu»tn};li llu* ^;ri'al, di'Siiiidanl . Uaiii Al>. lallKi, Kam, ^nal or liij^li. I In- t>iilai>;i'.l iiaiiu' uoiiM iIkii !)»•, Al) Ka Ham latlur ol a j^n;,l miiiilHi.) I'iiiall\, aN III iliiM- |ii(iiiiisi'h, tir sliatlou inj^ lortli ui j^icai lliiiiK^ ill tin- liilinr, uf liavi', aih'i thai uondiiliil (rial n| .i|.r • liciiiT III coiiiu'iiiuii Willi Imn .St. II Isuu', till' ^ival |iroiiiiM- llial Ills MT(I shall hf iimlli|ilu'(l as llif slars o| luaviMi, and as llu saii.l l)\ ilu- sia shoi,'; ihal lliry shall possi'Ss llu- j^alo o| ih.ir iiiiiiiifs; an. I ihal all llu- iialii.iis shall W i.hssid m his ||"slriil\. And Ihfsi' last ui'i»' |.n-|a»cd hv ihal iiu'Npn'ssil.h .M'k'inii .lirlaialioii, • \\\ ,\| \ Sh'.l .!•' IIAVh'. I SW'itUN !" ' ll is llu'Sf int. si iciiiarkaliU' tuvi'iianis and |.idiiiisis ihal lill lliis man s.. Iii,.;li al...vr his li'llous, I'.ni ii is rvi.U'iil thai ''"') \\'"' '!"< lusioui'd ailiiliarils ; not wiilioni nU'iiiuc l.. lill' rhaiaiUr o| ilu' man. I'lic I )iviiu' ihoiic ,.1 a man to In- llu' head oj a lan' who should |.rfscivr llu' liiu- l:j;lil ..| rrli Mi'in III the u..ild, and ihroiij^li ulioiii slhMild Ik' |.romiil).;alitl iicinal laws uj iiKiiahlN and tondiul lliis ilioiii' wa.s in |kt|\ti wisdom. lill- man was liiiiisill" a i>alUin and (•xcmplar ol \ nine and K'"lliiirss. .\ man oj niisw«'i vinj^' liiisl and drvo iKiii, iiiHillin^ all U'li^idiis ohli^atioii- ; a man, lot., . if justii-i', Kiinlliiifss, ft.nsidcialit.ii, luiic\ t.lfiuH' ; a man o| it.nra^;f aii arms uluii calhtl tm Ii'm llu- iiMMU- ol the caiilivi' in war. \fl iit. aiij^rl, l.nl a man, lial.k' to lie liin|.lf.|, ami lial.lf lo slmnl.lc, as lu- ilitl. and as uf do. All ihfsi' hails tij iharailiT arc nianiti'st in his liist.ir\ and tins \ iiiilii ale llu' 1 )iviiK' i litmc, ('Kii'it .\i, N(iri;.s ro iii|.; loKCiioiNc Cn.M'rKu. W'hal is iliis |iitnliar " I'lUssin^ " wliicli so nniarkahlv rliar- atli'ii/is Ihf hiviiii- i.K.iiiisis It. llu- man .M.ram f This is wtiilliy ol' 1 aii'l'iil allinlion, |.i|- ihi- wtMil, ami llu- itlf.is con- \i'\ttl |i\ ii, art" aliiiosl pfinliar |o the I )iviiu' rt'vilalion. riir original iilca of I 'dcssinj^- is that of iicslow iiumiI of ^M.i.d \\ill; anil liriuc, all Ihal ran follow from the ^ootlwiirnf a Sn|iniiu' and all powt rfnl I'lciii^ In one iilan'd as manUintl arc, in circmiislaiucs wliir<' Ihcy arc i-oiislaniK in need. The operation of this {.Mmtlwill takes a mnllitiitle nf fiiinis, as the I'eeds ,ind wants of men are iiilinili'lN vaiietl. Tints to Al)faiii, it iindoiililetlK leleiied larf.;els to his lempoi.il eonditioii in 'lie worM: thai he should lie prosperous; inerease in ucallli; lie sneeessfnl in his enlerprises, in the luin^iii^ up of liis fanii!\ ; that his tloeks and herds should inerease, ami that lie should he at peace with his depemienls and iieij^liliors. .Ml this is iiivolvi'd in the idi-n of the lllessing. And siuli il ■ '-i i « A, [•^til, I "- \. •■:..:. it. ■y 126 Abraham. i| il , 1 i . . ' j i i 1 ! ■ 1 i . . \ ' f ^ 1 ' '■■ 1, ii'l p. I lias undoubtedly meant in a multitude of cases; in the Old Testament especially. Lord Bacon, amongst his many wise aphorisms, observed that " prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament ; but adversity of the New" — a saying, however, that conveys only a partial truth. For, certainly, in die Old Testa- ment, the Divine blessing often refers to matters of far higher and deeper import than increase of wealth and power. The blessing of the man who "walks not in the counsel of the un- godly," is certainly a spiritual blessing — a peaceful mind, a quiet conscience, a soul in harmony with the Divine purpose and com- mandment. So the blessing of the " undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord; who keep his testimonies; who serve him heartily; who do no iniquity," is not the in- crease of this world's good, or its greatness. For in the same psalm we have the contrast between such a man, and the man who is lifted up in this world's prosperity, and who looks down upon the man whom God has blessed, and despises him. But the " good" of the Old Dispensation was undoubtedly n;uch more of an outward and temporal character than the blessing of the New. The blessings and curses of Mount Gerizim referred wholly to bodily health, increase of substance, victory over enemies, respect and fame amongst other peoples, good crops in the land. These matters, however, are wholly passed by in the New Dispensation under Jesus Christ. We have there a style of blessing relating wholly to the moral and spiritual condition of man. So much so, indeed, that bodily aflRiction and tem- poral suffering are represented rather as blessings than other- wise, because of their tendency to strengthen and develope char- acter. And certainly this New Testament conception of bless- ing is a far higher, and a far truer one than the other. For it is beyond question that a man may liave increase of wealth, power, and friends; and may have also freedom from sickness and calamity, while yet he may be a miserable, discontented, un- happy man. Theologians and ministers of religion tell us that the good thingsl of this world do not satisfy the soul of man. And men of the world, after full experience, have to complain, with real vexation, that this is only too true. " Vanitas vanitatein " is an undeniable verdict. The good things of this life, are not blessings in themselves, and can only be made such when they are used by the possessor of them (and they may be), for the good of his neighbors and mankind. When a Nobleman throws open his park, garden, and palace to the people, they become a higher means of enjoyment to him than if he selfishly shuts them up for himself. The exercise of good-will is a blessing in itself, and it becomes a means of blessing to others, when they are led to appreciate the good-will and to copy the example, each in his own sphere. Abraham. 127 And it is a meaning of this kind which undoubtedly is con- veyed by the declaration to Abraham that " in his seed all the families and nations of the earth should be blessed." All na- tions were not to inherit the land of Canaan ; all families were not assured of prosperity, health, and wealth. But to the people and families of all nations, spiritual prosperity, health and peace would come by Jesus Christ; and to all of them would finally ai)portain an inheritance in a heavenly Canaan, which would be to them all a possession for everlasting ages. iu! ■^ ii:l! CHAPTER XIII. Incidents in the Life of Aukaiiam. Genesis 12, 1 J, //. The life of this man is crowded with incidents, and all the incidents are worthy of consideration, by men, who, like Abra- ham, are living out their life in transacting the business of the world. They are very certainly for our " learning." The first incident is one of tlie most significant of all, and it has been most sadlv misunderstood. It relates to his 'I ; Pi, ■ H \ 1 '1 1 ■ ; I . ■■ t 1 '! i J ( ■I - ,j i i ■ \-' H '.\ ; 1 1 1 j L Going Down into Egypt. The incident is set forth, not as an example, as some have un- wisely conceived it, but as a warning. Abram, moving southward because of famine, enters on the borders of Egypt; foresees danger to himself from the beauty of his wife, and is guilty of a subterfuge in order to preserve himself. A very strange procedure, in a man of such ex- traordinary faith and courasre, and at first sight, the accuracy' of the story might be c|uestioned. But it is a fact of general experience that men at times fail in that very point of char- acter in which, as a rule, they are strongest, ^len are sadly perplexed at times in the contradictions that appear in the actions of the same man. In the memoirs of Cardinal Man- ning we have bitter complaints of the vacillation and weakness of the Duke of Wellington on the Catholic c|uestion. Of all men in the world the Iron Duke was the last from whom vacillation and weakness was to be expected. If Shakespeaie is t(i be trusted (and he is generally accurate in hisi historical sketches) the great Caesar himself, on one occasion, behaved "like a sick girl." Solomon, the wisest of men, was guilty of extraordinary follv in choosing heathen wives and concubines. Moses, distinguished for meekness, broke out into a storm of passion on a critical occasion. So when we find this man of extraordinary faith and courage. Abram. on an emergency, losing all his confidence in Divine protection, and resorting to subterfuge in a time of danger, we can be well assured of the accuracv of the narrative, and take the lesson intended to be conveved bv it. viz.. to take heed of our steps. The lesson is conveved in those t^regnant words of the New Testament: "Let him that 'thinketh' he 'standeth' take heed lest he fall." Abram in Egypt. 129 That the Lord plagued the house of Pharaoh for the sake of Abram's wife is no argument that the Lord approved deceit. It was simply for the sake of preserving Sarai in purity, and for her sake, in preventing her becoming one of the concu- bines of the ruler of Egypt. It is noticeable that this generic appellation Phar-aoh was in use in this early time. It is noticeable, too, that this Pharaoh behaved most justly and generously in the matter. Again and again, throughout the Divine word, both in the Old Testament and the New, we have brought before us the just and upright conduct of men who knew not the God of Israel, a remarkable witness to the ]x'rfect truth and fairness of the record. For in this, it corresponds with what we know from secular history of the just and upright character of men in many ages and countries, and specially of men in the earlier days of Greece and Rome. What the Divine record tells us of Hiram of Tyre, Cyrus the Persian, the Roman Proconsul Sergius Paulus, the Centurion Julius, who behaved so cour- teously to the apostle Paul; secular history also tells us of Socrates, Aristides, and .Marcus Aurelius. W'hat then — may it be said — was the need of a Divine religion if without it men could be so good ? What need :' Every need. For although in Heathendom a man here and there displayed a character of justice and goodness, the great mass of the people — priests included — were tainted with vice almost irredeemably. We must look at the tendency of systems, not at the rare exceptions: and viewing matters in this light, who can doubt that Divine intervention has been necessary to save mankind from sinking deeper and deeper into an un- fathomable abyss of vice and moral and spiritual degradation. The history of the world, men being left to themselves, is in- variably that of continuous moral and spiritual deg<.-r.eracy. The experience of the ages before the flood is only too true a type of the developments of human nature in all places and times subsequently. At a later period in Abraham's life, a ])arallel incid-^nt oc- curred, when, in his nomadic wanderings, he i^assed into the region bordering on the Sinaitic desert. The cliief of the war- like tribes of the desert did then what the P)edouin would do now: he sent and took Sarah for himself, and would doubtless have followed it up, if needful, bv taking the life of Abraham, whose faith failed him again. That this subterfuge was not needful is proved bv the fact that the Divine protection was again extended towards him, unworthy though he was of it, in this instance. Again the lesson is before us, let not any man think that a long course of honorable and faithful conduct will preserve him from falling into dishonor. — " He that trusteth his own '"I.. I;- ^T s 1 I )( t SE ' tl 130 Separation of Lot from Abrahaui. heart is a fool.'' To the very end, so lone as men are in cir- cnmstances where they may be tempted, they need to be on their guard, and to make their trust, not in a past record, bui in the Living God. The Separation of Lot from Abraham. Tho whole story of the relations between Abraham and his nephew Lot, brings out sharply the character of the two men. In the elder, a disinterested kindness and consideration, bravery in intervening to save from disaster, and compassion for one surrounded by terrible moral dep^radation and in im- minent danger of being overwhelmed in it. When, between the herdmen of the two chieftains (for Lot was now a nomad chief as well as Abram), dissensions, jealousies, and quarrel arose about the best pasture, on the hill sides of the country north of Jerusalem. Abram, as the elder and head of the two families, might well have called Lot to his counsels and insisted on the latter removing to a pait of the country he might designate. This would have been his right. But, with a true spirit of forbearance and con- ciliation, like that afterwards enjoined bv his ereat descendaii';, Abram offered to give way to the choice of Lot. Aware that the strife of servants often extends to the heads of families, and plants roots of bitterness that may grow for years, and even generations, he said to Lot, " Let there be no strife betwcMi me and thee — nor between my herdmen and thme; for we be brethren." (Here let us note the use of this word "brethren," as meaning near relationship, a use w^hich is common throughout the Divine record, but which use has been the occasion of foolish and unreasonable cavil). In this spirit he offers him the choice of the whole land. " ]\Iake thy choice, and I will abide by it. If thou choosest the right hand, I will take the left; if the left is more agreeable to thee, I will take the right." A noble example for men in all subsequent ages whjse nr- rangements as to land boundaries or occupation of territory may bring them into conflict with neighl)ors. P)est, without doubt, in the end, for all parties, that a spirit of acconunoda tion and conciliation should rule; and best, always, that the stronger party should lead the way. In our own times, when nations are extending borders and boundaries, and disputes are in danger of growing into war; or when business rivalries as to territory to be covered grow into fierce disputes or rosily law suits; when a Venezuela boundary, or the partition of Africa, has almost lighted the flames of conflict between great nations, how fine the lesson of forbearance conveyed in this incident. Even ecclesiastical bodies, Mission Boards, Churches, etc., « »W. ' l.t ' ,it.,. Separation of Lot from Abrain. 131 amongst whom jealousies as to occupation of territory are not unknown, might well ponder the action of this large-hear to. 1 chieftain, aud say to one another, " Let there be no strife be- tween us; for we be brethren; if thou wilt take the right hand, I will go to the left; or if thou concludest to occupy the left, then I will go to the right." And surely the good of Christ's kingdom would be enhanced by this course, more than by th« successful occupancy of ground that is already well filled with gospel appliances. And, in the afifairs of nations, and the ri- valries of business, who can doubt that a spirit of reasonable conciliation, especially on the part of the stronger, would bring about more assured prosperity. In the conduct of Lot we see the weak-minded and thought- less choice of a man who looks simply at present and temporal advantage, and forgets or neglects higher considerations. To begin with, he ought, in all reason and courtesy, to have re- fused the position of choice offered him by his relative. A wise and considerate man would have said to Abram, " No, the choice of ground belongs of right to thee. Take thou what to thee may seem good ; I will be well content to take what may remain." Far better had it been to act thus, than simply to consult his own inclination. For the sequel proves that he was not wise enough to make a choice, as is the case often enough, with those who insist on having their own way. Lot, looking down towards the plain of Jordan, and seeing a most fertileandwell watered country, chose for himself a portion in the plain, and pitched his tent before Sodom. Apparently, he never considered what kind of neighbors he would have; nor whether the region was a safe one to pitch his tent in, nor the kind of influences, for good or evil, that would surround his family in their bringing up. The immediate prospect was all that he considered; but dearly had he to rue the folly of his choice. Lot ha^ had many who have followed his foolish ex- ample. In the settlement of this continent, under similar cir- cumstances, many a one, with the whole land before him, has chosen to cast in the lot of himself and his familv, in the neigh- borhood of some mining camp, whose occupants, like the men of Sodom, were "sinners before the Lord exceedingly." Evil, it is true, there is to be found in every community, small or great. In the quietest rural village, or on the solitary farm, human nature will assert itself. An ancient Father of the Church, long ago, found that even in the desert he could not fly from sin. But there are degrees of development, and it is certain that some cities of modern times, like many of old times, have acquired a bad pre-eminence for prevalent vice. What Lot did, is set up before us as a warning. For he not only suffered the loss of all his wealth in the war that broke out, but having recovered it through the bravery of his uncle, he was finally involved in the catastrophe that overwhelmed .'Nf •\\ f •1:1 Ml i22 Abram as a Soldier. where he dwelt. And though lie seems to have preserved ii virtue and character, the utter moral degradation of iJldren stands out only too conspicuously. \ AiiRAM AS A Soldier. Genesis i^. The predatory chiefs (called kings) of the region round about the Jordan X'alley and the country beyond, had their (juarreis then, as chiefs and kings have had ever since, and at last an organized league, offensive and defensive, was formed, four chiefs against five. Ravaging, plundering and destroying, these roving Ijands at length came to Sodom and Gomorrah, killing some, and taking others prisoners. Amonest the last was Lot, who, with all his goods, his wife and children, his flocks and herds, was carried away captive as far north as the neigh- borhood of Damascus. One of those who escaped came and told Abram, who, hear- ing that his brother (again note the use of this word brother, as indicative of a relative by blood) was taken captive, acted with the energy and promptitude of a strong and able man, leading forth his trained servants, over three hundred in num- ber, and pursued the marauders to the northern boundaries of the land. (Note, incidentally, this word trained, indicating a body of men regularly disciplined in the use of arms, as was natural and reasonable to a man like Abram, surrounded by barbarous tribes, and having valuable herds and flocks to to defend.) When he overtook the marauders, with true military tactics, he divided his small band,and made a nieht attack. Sudden, resolute and overwhelming was the onset. He smote them, they fled; he pursued them to the borders of Damascus, rescued Lot and his family and retainers, and recovered the whole of the spoil. This is the first and the last of the military exploits of Abram. But it is evident, that he had the energ}' and capacity to become a leader in military enterprises, and make a name; for himself among the conquerors and chieftainsof the world. But cut bono ? What the good of this ? What benefit to the generation then living, what to p-enerations following ? Would it have been thus that the nations would be blessed in liim ? Melchizedek. Tt Avas in returning from this expedition (the route apparent- ly being the one followed to this day, passii'.g along to the west of the Jordan, along the hill-countr>-, until the road turned ••fW w>mi^ Melclihcdek. 133 eastwards clown tlie valley lying between Jerusalem and the Ixlount of Olives) that the wiiole party wore met by the king of Sodom. And here they were also met by a very remarkable personage, whose name has passed into the history of the Christian Church as a perfect type of the Divine Saviour of the world. This man had a remarkable name, ]^Ielchi-Zedek (for this is the manner in which it ought to appear), which signifies, King of Righteousness. He is described as King of Salem, the place evidently being the same as that occupied by the city of Jerusalem in after years, and meaning Peace. Thus far there is nothing to excite very particular notice; for the place, Salem, was one of those which, from the very earliest times, have beeen chosen as the seat of some king or chief, from its connnanding position. It was a true natural stronghold. And the name King of Righteousness, might well be given to some chieftain who had ruled with such equity as to have earned to himself such a name. But the one most marvellous thing about him is that, besides being king, he was Priest of the Most High God. How such a man came to be there, how he came to be a priest, who con- secrated him, what functions he exercised, in what building, temple or tabernacle did he exercise his ministry, with regard to all thesq natural qt' stions, the narrative is silent. But it intimates tliat he was a true Priest, and that as such he pronounced a formal blessing upon Abram from the Most High. The term he uses in doing this is remarkable :" Blessed of the Most High God, Possessor of heaven and earth." Pos- sessor — a term indicating supreme and continued ownership; the right, which, as applied to secular government, is called the right of " Eminent Domain," intimating that in the last resort, all things on the earth, movable or immovable, all pro- perty of every description is His. A great truth indeed, with far-reaching applications, and well expressed in Psalm 24 : " The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof." And well have the merchants of England done in putting this text on the forefront of that " Royal Exchange" in which the produc- tions of the whole world are dealt in. The pertinence of this term to the occasion is worthy of note. There was property to be distributed, the recovered spoil of successful war. It is at this moment, w^hen all persons interested are gathered on the scene that this kingly Priest speaks of the Most High God as " Possessor," enunciating, in these very early times, the eternally subsisting truth, that the property of the world, of every description, is the Lord's From tins, proceeds that other great truth, that, to the extent that any property appertains to them, all persons are acount- able to the Most High as stewards and distributors. This truth, and the position of Melchizedek himself, was acknowledged by Abram giving him Tithes of all, the first in- stance in Scripture of this mode of distribution. •i u ./Vf 1! •" n i ' V ^ 134 Melchiaedek. \\l I l!i: kn But this man Melchi-Zedek, had in after times the singu- lar honor of being named as the fore-runner and type of the Divine Saviour of the world, in His ofliee of High Priest and ^k'diator between God and man. In the iioth Psalm oeeurs the very striking and well known passage " Thou art a I'riest for ever, after the order of Melehi- Zedek." Evidently, from the whole tenor of the Psalm, it is the e(jming .Messiah who is referred to. And so the inspired writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews claims it to be. This man, ^lelchi-Zedek, appears on the scene, as a personage distinct and alone. He is not one of a line of priests; he has no predecessors and no successors. Nothing is recorded of his parentage. He is, figuratively speaking, without father or mother. Nothing is recorded of the beginning of his life or of its ending. Pie was a King; King of Righteousness in character; King of Peace (Salem) by localitv; and a Priest in addition. So utterly unlike other men and other priests, and combining in himself so many remarkable attributes, that he was a most fitting type of Him, who was unlike all other men, yet ver}- man; who had an eternal existence before, yet was i)orn in time, and who, though made subiect to death, for the redemption of mankind, abideth for evermore, " a Priest for ever," and therefore "able to save to the uttermost bound of time, all who come to God by Him. " And it surely was as a part of his typical office, that this remarkable Priest brought forth Bread and Wine, the very elements used, many centuries afterwards, by his great Ante- type, the Alessiah, to set forth His redemption; and which he has commanded to be used (which command his people in all ages have obeyed) in commemoration of Pimiself, until His return a second time to the world. The conduct of Abram in refusing to accept the offer made by the king of Sodom of a large portion of the spoils is notice- able. Not even the smallest portion would he take. In all this afifair, his character shines conspicuously as a brave, generous, large-souled man, worthy to be chosen of the Supreme Bene- factor, as the channel of benefits and deliverance to all the nations and families of the earth. CHAPTER XIV. AllKAM AND ISIIMAEL. Genesis i6, ly, iS. Tlic visit of Abram to Egypt had a reiiiarkahlc result, not less on his own household, than on the course of future ayes and the destiny of nations. So it often comes about, in the deep and mvsterious work- mgs of IJivine government, as most men can bear witness to from their own experience. To how small a thing can men often trace the most momentous changes of their lives ! The cackling of geese once saved Rome. A very slight event pre- vented Cromwell and some other Puritans from following their friends to America. What followed from their staving in Eng- land all the world knows. So in this life of Abram. His wife Sarai brings from Egvpt a native Egyptian maid, a woman of another stock and race, who became the mother of the man Ishnuel, the head and pro- genitor of all that Arabian race who have played almost as large a jiart in the history of the world as the Jews, and from whom, ultimately, sprang that extraordinarv enthusiast, soldier and false prophet, Mohammed. \\' hat has" followed, religious- ly, from him, the Christian world knows onlv too well. Ishmael, a true child of the desert, " his hand against every man, and ever>' man's hand against him," is perpetuated in his descendants, who, at this very day, and in the verv same wil- derness, display the same characteristics. Manv'an Eastern traveller knows to his cost, that these wilderness regions are still full of Ishmaels. The manner in which all this came about is noticeable :— Sarai was barren. At her own request, and this is a poitit to be remarked, Abram took this Egvptian as a second wife. Yet. though it was at Sarai's own request, the usual conse- c|uences followed; family jars and jealousies. In this case the fault was entirely with the ser\^ant, who. being lifted up above her natural sphere, displayed a proud and vaunting spirit, a development only too common in the world. The mistress resented this, naturally enough, and rightly enough. The flight of the maid followed,' and her steps turnetl." naturall)-, towards her native country, the route to which through the wilderness she well knew" a route followed to this dav. ■ '■ \ :'*n;i: M V' ■■ 'ft m : 136 Abrain and hlintacl. I ;> li t it: ( 5 % % I'ut though she was in fauU. she was not forsaken. She had travelled far on the way, when the Alnnj>;htv i'roteetor suceored her hv an anj^el, as she rested near a well in that solitary wilderness, and commanded her to return, openinjj^ up a wonderful revelation of what should happen throu.ijh the child that was to be horn. Then it was she spoke the words that have come down to tliese times, and have been a very fountain of consolation to distressed souls in like circumstances. Far from friends and home, travellers, explorers, missionaries, t)rodip;al wanderers, when all earthly hope has failed, have lifted up heart on think- in<^ of the words of this Ep^-yptian maid: "Thou (Ion sicKsr mk!" For she said, " Have I, in such a place as this, seen Him, inat seeth me," an exclamation of devout pfratitude for preservation. So, in memory of this, the well was called bv a verv striking name, "Beer-lahai-roi," "The well of the Living One that seeth me." The incident reminds us of the modern traveller, Atungo Park, who, in the midst of the African desert, alone, exhausted,, despairing; lying down, as he thought, to die, was roused to one supreme effort by seeing a little flower blooming beside him, and by the thought : " He who made and cared for that flower, has surely made and will care for me." The son was born, grew up, and fulfilled the character fore- told of him, that he should be, not a " wild man," as it is ren- dered, which mighti suggest a sort of savage, but a " wilil ass of a man," as the phrase means; a man of strong, masterful,, untameable spirit, submitting to none, and caring for none. But before he attained manhood, another incident occurred closely corresponding to the one just related. It came about in this wise : — As the boy Ishmael grew, it is evident he had the high re- gard and affection of his father, just as such strong and mas- terful boys always have. But it was not the Divine purpose that a sacred race should proceed from such a one. A man of proud, untamable and combative spirit, like Ishmael, was highly unsuitable. ,For the Divine choice of instruments always has respect to suitableness, and so it must be. Not through Ishmael, but through another son, bom of the wife Sarah, whose name, signifying " Princess," indicated high birth and breeding, was the sacred line to flow. But the an- nouncement troubled Abraham, who prayed that Ishmael might be chosen, Ishmael the bold and daring boy, and a favorite. This prayer, however, crossed the Divine purpose, and like alt such prayers, was denied. Many a similar prayer has been offered by a fond father or mother, prompted not by considera- tion of the Divine will, but by natural affection, or earthly desire, and has been refused : and how could it be otherwise ? If men foolishly ask for a stone or a serpent, what can the mm A brain ami hlimacl. :ii All-wise but refuse ? It is when men ask in Christ's name, in sympathy with llim, and fur the things of His kingdom, that the promise applies " it shall be done." Xot Ishniael, but one born of Sarah, was to continue tl.c line of blessing. Jjut she was old, long past the time of bearing children, and when it was announced that a son should be burn to lier, she laughed in incredulity. Hut Abram steadfastly believed — and Paul the Apostle, writ- ing of him many ages afterwards, to Christians at Rome, as the father of all faithful souls, testified thus : — " Who, against hope, believed in hope . . and being not weak in faith, he considered nut his own body, now dead (when he was about an hundred years old) neither yet the deadness of Sarah's womb. He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief, but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; being fully persuaded that what He had promised, he' was able to perform." And rationally was he so persuaded. For the All-wise, speaking to Abram of the incredulity of Sarah, gave utterance to this great truth : — *' Ls ANYTHING TOO HARlJ FOR THE LORD I" Tiiis single saying solves all the difficulties of Scriptural miracles. At the time appointed, the child was born, and was called Isaac, sir^nifying Laughter or Joy. But what had taken place between Hagar and Sarai is now repeated between Ishmael and Isaac. Ishtnael mocked and jeered at the little child. In what way is not recorded, but it can be understood that he, now a boy grown up. was angry at the prospect of another rising up to displace him as heir. And in what way big boys can torment little ones all understand who know anything of public schools. It was evidently no light matter. It grew to be intolerable, and Sarah demanded that Hagar should be separated from the household. Again we find Abraham sorely troubled. A strong man, able for all enterprises, fearless, faithful and bold; yet, like many another of the same character, tender-hearted and affectionate, he would gladly have kept his whole household about him in peace. It was " very grievous" to him to send Hagar and her son away. Her experience is a remarkable repetition of what had befallen her before, and it might be fancied that the two stories of the wanderings of Hagar are really the same. But the sameness of the experience is really a proof of the truth of the narrative. All experience is of sameness in this nomad life. The children of the desert live now, have the same dress, the same occupation, the same customs, as their ancestors have done for untold generations. Were the patriarch Abraham, to re-appear in the flesh, and visit the scenes of his earthlv life, he would find himself, in the 10 i ^|i ,;!- 'i^i 138 A brain and Islnuacl. I ^'1 IB! I |i * 1 cities aid towns of tlic laiul ho oiico dwelt in, in an nttcrly iinknowi. world, 'hit in the camp of the ]>cdawccn, lie wonld he at lionie. J'hei' life, apart from their pUmdering proi)ensi- ties, is the vei\ lite he and his children lived thousands ijt years ago. So. it is most natural to find this Egyptian and her son, turn- ing in the same southerly direction, wandering in the same wil- derness, meeting the same hardships, and being succoured in the same wa\ as she was many years before. Doubtless, in turning her steps thither, she had in view a return to her family in ICgypt; and with the travel that was ciMumon, even at tliat early day, it was more than likely she would fall in with some company travelling there too, just as the brothers of Joseph did many years afterwards. iUit she fell in with no company, and she seems to have wandered out of the way. and have lost herself in the wilder- ness l-"aint. weary, her supply of ft)od and water exhausted, the death of her.-elf and boy was inevitable. It is a pathetio story bearing an evident stamp of truth. She placed the child in tile best shade attainable, under one t>f the shrul)s — a true descri])tion of what is found in that wilderness to this ilay — and withdrew lest; she should see the jioor bov die before her eyes. And thus, she lifted up her voice and wept; a true picture of the extremity of desolation: a striking scene that has captivated many painters in these modern times. iUit it is a true saying that "man's extremity is God's opportunity." The lad himself seems to have lifted up his voice in jirayer. for the story is that God "heard the voice of the lad," sent an angel who called t( the mother to arise, and take the boy; at the same nu)nient opening lior eyes, so that she saw a well she had not before discerned, and revealed to the mother the destiny of her son. A wtiuderful thing indeed; in ixirt. natural enough, but partly, as cannot but be allowed. su])ernatural. Vet natural and rational was all this. ever, in its suix>rnatural character, consider- ing the great destiny that was before this lad; and such as to justify the putting forth of the Divine hand in an extraordinary wav. The life of both was saved. Henceforth dod was a mo- tector of Tshmael and his mother. He grew, dwelt in the wil- derness, became an archer, killed the game of the desert, ful- filled the character given of him before he was born, and, as again was natural enough, his mother sought and found for him an Kgyptian wife, thus mingling for the second time, the blood of the two great races of these ancient days. From this union sprang twelve sons, wlio became the heads of tribes that spread themselves over the great tracts of country east of T<^n1an, stretching over to Arabia and westward to the borders of Kgypt, which regions thcv have occupied ever since. That they increased rapidly is evident from the fact that in the A brain and Is/nnael. 139 time of Joseph, they were numerous enoufii^h to form a caravan engaged in merehatuHse l)et\veen the Eastern country and Egypt. It was by a company of " Ishmaclites " he was taken there. 'Jhe conchict both of Sarah and Al)ram to this unfortunate wtunan llagar, has been, and with a])parcnt reason, sul)ject to adverse criticism, as liaviiig tlie appearance of iiarshness and crnehy to an umiatural degree. It is never well to justify what is plauily, on the face of it, wrong, even in men or women of eminent goodness. On the other hand, it is reasonable to con- sider circumstances and times, and to avoiil coming to conclu- sions from only partial examination. It is fair, also, when a casL' admits of doubt, to give a man the benefit of doubt wlu)se general cliaracter is one of eminent goodness. Xow, the first going away of Hagar was voluntary. She was the occasion of troui^le in the house, by vaunting over her mistress in a matter that touches a v>oman most closely. Sarah was concerned and deeply indignant, appealing to her husband for justice, in the name of Almighty God. " The Lord jutlge between thee and me." Abram, naturally, gave back the matter to Sarah herself, who then, as it is exi)ressed, "dealt hardly" with her maid; whether slie ])assed the bounds of reasoiuible discipline, in i)utting a stop to Hagar's vaunting, we know not. Hagar probably, as was natural to a woman of her tem]>erament (she was probably somewhat like her son in disposition), rel)elled against Sarah's treatment ; onlv pro- voking her mistress more and more, and bringing down upon herself more and more severity of treatment. This is the way such matters go in the world at in-esent, and, as has been ob- served before, it is evident that men anil women, in the begin- ning of time, had the same human nature that they have now. The crisis came at last in Hagar's fhglU. She evidently in- tended — as a maid would do now — to make her way to he:- own kindred and couiUry. The (lod of Providence had a destiny in store for the woman, and ct)mmanded her to return to her mistress and submit to her, a reasonable inference being that 11 agar was largely or wholly at fault. On her return, we hear no more of any vaunting on her side or of hard treat- ment on the other. Tn the second instance, the trouble again rose from a course of vaunting and mocking — this time on the jiart of Hagar's son. And again our knowledge of the world will teach us how disturbing this condition of things would be, especiallv consid- ering the difference in rank and iiosition of tlie parties It became at length intolerable. The baneful influence of such a disturbing element in the camp would be apt to spread and bring disorder and confusion. Separation was inevitable. Sarah, as the female head of the household, insisted upon it, as if I!' ^^^ t\ 140 Abram and Ishmael. ill f I se certainly had the right to do. But Abraham, grievous as all his was to him. acted under Divine direction in ?onsen in? And that Divine direction was accompanied by Divine pro ef-" t.on, IS clear from the course of the narrative. The word of promise w^as renewed to Abraham, that "of the on o u^e bondwonjan God would make a great nation," clearly hnplyW ha the lad would be the object of Divine 'care whenever I went. So any imputation of hardheartedness or cruelty is removed from Abraham at least. ^ 1- 1 ^ w^mttttmiiiimkimk L>>a CRITICAL NOTE ON THE SUBJECT OF THE LORD SPEAKING TO MEN. From the time of Noah onwards, the Scripture record con- stantly refers to Divine communications as made to men, directing them at one time, forbidding them at another. The whole life of Abraham, especially, is reported as being governed by such Divine monitions. Yet his life, in all its outward aspects, is that of an ordinary man of the world. He emigrates, he moves about with his flocks and herds, he buys and sells, he engages in a warlike expedition, he has intercourse with other chiefs like himself, and with chiefs of tribes in other countries. There is nothing fanatical or enthusiastic about him. He is no monk, or hermit, or dreamer. Yet from the first of his life to the last we read that the Lord of Heaven and Earth spoke to him, and dealt with him as a wise and masterful tutor would with a pupil confided to his care. The Lord said, " Get thee out of thy country." The Lord said, " Take thv son, and offer him on one of the mountains of Moriah." The Lord said " I will establish my covenant with thee in circum- cision." Every important action is under Divine command and direction. How, and in what manner, the Lord spake to this man, and to many others in these remarkable times is not revealed. One may enquire curiously, if not perhaps verv wisely, was it by an audible voice ? Was it in the light of day, or was it in the night ? Was it, as seems to be the case even now, by a con- currence of circumstances, pointing plainly in a certain direc- tion, or by the voice of a preacher, teacher, friend, specially pressed with singular force on the mind ? ^len in these days are sometimes so powerfally touched by the words of Scrip- ture that they come with all the force of a personal direction. But in the time of Abraham there was no written record, and there seems to have been no teacher, prophet or priest, save onlv Melchi-Zedek. But he is not represented as giving any Divine direction, or making any revelation. There must have been a communication of a direct and im- mediate sort, such as was plain and intelligible. And certainly, all these circumstances have the gravest import, for their consequences remain to this very day. There are two verv striking passages in the book of Job referring to Divine communications to men. The first is in Chap. 4 : 12 to 18. and is in a highly poetical form : — "In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man : Then a spirit passed before my face. It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof. . If''-- II' I 1 III i I ill ,.3 142 T/ie Lord Speaking to Men. There was silence. . . Then I heard a voice, saying, ' Shall mortal man be more just than God !' " A pregnant question indeed. In chapter 33 : 14 to 17, another striking description occurs: " For God speaketh once, yea twice, and man perceiveth it not. In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man, in slumberings upon the bed: Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction. That he may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man !" There is no mention of dreams and visions in the life of Abraham, though they figure strikingly in the story of Jacob and Joseph. But there are other avenues to the soul besides dreams and visions. Was that not a Divine message that Augustine heard, when, being long tossed with doubt and fear, he had the words Tolle, Lege (Take, Read) impressed on him with irresistible power, which words were the very turning point of his whole life ? A case is known to the writer of a young man, suddenly called to undertake a long voyage to a distant country, on business of very great moment, who, sitting in his cabin on board ship before sailing, and thinking of all that might befall him, was startled with the force with which these words were impressed upon him : " For I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again to this land." These are the well known words spoken to the young way- farer, Jacob, in nearly similar circumstances. But this young man was not reading. He was not thinking of the Divine pro- tection; he had never read that passage with an\ irticular attention. Yet, the impression was as vivid .. if an actual voice had spoken, so vivid that he started from his seat, almost expecting to see some one. The impression was so profound as to dispel all anxiety and fear as to what might happen. He was convinced it was a Divine voicv\ 'ud, in all the strange incidents Oi' his travel, through unknovvu scenes, by land and sea, he never had the shadow of doubt that the Divine Protector was near, and that he would return to his own land in safety, which indeed did happen. There may indeed, and there have been, instances where men have mistaken their own fancies and impulses for the Divine will. And a man may fairly ask, in these flays, how a voice or impression made upon him can be concluded to be Divine or otherwise. To all which it mav be said : — That no impression can be taken as Divine which is contrary to the plain teaching of the Divine word, and no impression can be taken as Divine which has not evidently, as a conse- quence, directly or Indirectly, the furtherance of the Kingdom of God in the world or the protection and guidance of His servants. CHAPTER XV. Abraham.— The Divine Covenants. Genesis 15 and 17. If we attentively consider, we shall always find a reasonable sequence in the events recorded in these biographies Abrani had vanquished a confederacy of warlike tnbes and had re- covered spoils. Bv this he had incurred their deadlv ennnty, and placed himself in a position of greatlv increased danger. A chief of a camp, with flocks and herds spread over a wido extent of pasturage, he was now more than ever exposed to such marauding attacks as those so vividly described in the first chapter of the book of Job. In the narrative portion of that remarkable book it is recorded how bands of marauding Sabcans and Chaldeans fell upon his camp; slaying 1^^ ^ervan s witlV the edge of the sword, and carrying off the whole of his oxen and camels. Always more or less exposed, the camp o Abram was more so than ever, from motives of revenge on he part of the chiefs whom he had defeated. They woukl plan reprisals- thev would burst upon him unawares, to kill, burn and destroy. ' Our own earlv history gives only too manv ex- amples of this, with the Indians of former clays. Abram knew this and could not but fear. So, walking about with watchful eve, some night before retiring to rest, scanning the horizon for the approach of foes, another Divine word comes to him, eminently suited to .lis circumstances :— " Fear not, Ahram. -I am thv Shield, and thy exceeding GREAT Reward!' r..:,„,i. The Almightv Ruler, who holds the hearts of all inen, ft icncl^ and enemier alike, in his hands-He will defend. The ulea ol Divine protection under the figure of a shield, is macle perma- nent for all time, and to all good men iiv the 84th Psalm^- "The Lord God is a Sun and a Shield. Aow then, Abram could sleep securely, though surrounded by cnennes. B t more. The promise was not only of Divine protection but of Divine recompense : — " I am thv exceeding great reward !" He had just relinciuished ihe rewarcls of ccncjutst. giving an example of conciuest over natural desire; of disinter- estedness; of generosity, and God answers him, I am th> ^ Whatever satisfaction, pleasure, honor he might have had froiu the enjoyment of these spoils-far r^or.-..c.^^^ more, he should have in the love and service of God. Anothe. |! 'lit ^^ 144 The Divine Covenants. 1 i : 11 : r grand and fundamental truth, confirmed by experience of all good men, in all places, and at all times, and this even if only the time now present be considered. But what if we consider the life to come ! Abram was a man of like passions with ourselves. Naturally, he would strongly desire these spoils. The rich always desire more. But he had relinquished them. And now he has what our Lord calls -the tkuk riches." There are three ways of gaining the wealth of this world, differing widely both in means and conseciiicnces. The first is : — Industry and honest trade, which benefits all. The second is : — Speculation, which enriches one at the ex- pense of another. In this should lie included all forms of commercial gambling, stock gambling, and lotteries. The third is Robbery and Fraud, viz., hv violence and plun- der, by cheating, by dishonest handling of public monies, by quiet and systematic embezzling. Open violence and plunder are regularly practised by the Bedaween descendants of Abram at this day. and apparently without conscience of wrong. Cheating and embezzlement are crimes of our boasted civiliza- tion. " Thou shalt not steal" has been a conmiand of wide appli- cation in all times. But " Thou shalt not covet !" this goes to the very root of the matter, and were it only obeyed, would cure half of the troubles of our modern world, applying, as the tenth conunandment does, to all the domestic relations of mankind, as well as to those of property. "S'et, with all his strong faith, Abram is at times depressed and unhappy. He is almost alone. Wife he has, but no child. This was before Ishmael was born. None to inherit his wealth, but his steward, a good man, truly, as appears by the sequel, but not to be likened to an heir by blood. Then it was that the remarkable scene ensued which was remembered nearly two thousand years after by one of the great- est of his descendants, Paul the Apostle of us Gentile people, and set forth as an example to Christian souls in all subsequent generations. Brought forth out of the camp, on the upland plains of Judea, his eye is directed to the brilliant array of stars in the heavens : " Look,'' said the Divine voice, " see if thou canst count the number of them. So shall thy seed be !" An unlikely and almost incredible thing. But Abram believed God: and why should he not? And now was made the remarkable declaration, " He believed in the Lord, and He counted it to him for righteousness !" Strange that this phrase, which represents and stands for one of the keen controversies that have distracted theologians for generations in these modern times, should be found so early in the history of our race as thi.s. " Imputad Righteousness," — what learned tomes have been written of this, now affirming, now denying, but never agreeing to differ, or realizing that the The Covenant of Ciraimcisiou. 145 shield was being looked at from opposite sides. It is opened out by the same Apostle in his famous Epistle to Roman Chris- tians. But nothing more appears there beyond this, that it pleases the Supreme Ruler and Governor, to whom .ill are ac- countable, that whereas none are or can be righteous by com- plete and unfailing obedience to law, the faith of those who trust in Him shall be accounted to them for righteousness; the trust being a steadfast reliance on His love to them through His Son, who is set forth as " dying for our sins, and rising again for our justification." The man who thus trusts in God, through Christ, is declared to have righteousness imputed to him, " not ot works, but of grace " or good-will. One might wish to be able to dispense with theological terms in such a matter, and think and write in the ordinary language of men. For, certainly, the record as to Abram is reasonable and natural. And so is the application of it by the Apostle. And if we could only look at things in a natural light, and not as obscured by controversy, we might understand that He who is the sole ultimate Judge of human conduct in relation to Himself, can surely, if it so pleases Him, institute some other mode of obtaining justification, when, in the case of every man, perfect obedience has failed. And that such a faith as is described, both as appertaming to the Patriarch, and to men in Christian times, is a powerful force in the elevation of character godwards, and the develoi)- ment of the highest virtue that human nature is capable of, none can doubt who have a true acquaintance with its work- ing in the minds of men. This faith, however, must be distinguished from a credulous acceptance of lying and debasing legends, or of silly supersti- tions ; of which, " miserabile dictu," the history of the church affords only too many developments. Such a faith as surely degrades and destroys, as the other elevates and saves. Thus this man of generations long passed, touches us in our life now present. He becomes the " Father" of the long line of men, who, through faith, not only saved themselves, and were lifted uj) in times of depression and danger, but wrought great deeds for God and man, both in patient suffering unto death by sword or stake, and by courageous daring in mighty enterprises for the spread of the Kingdom of God ; to all whicli may be added the elevating and (|uickening influence of this principle in the ordinary routine of the ta^ks of the world. -■1, • 1 .a II R'. 1 \\ The Covenant of Circumclsion. It was after this great transaction that two " signs" of the Divine covenant of blessing were instituted. But they were pre- ceded by a ver>' solemn command and sentence of obligation. The Lord appeared, and said to Abram : — " Walk before me, and be thou perfect." 146 The Covenant of Circumcision. \ \\\ '• 1 The first carries us back to the clays of Enoch and Xoah, both men of eminent godHness of hfe, having the fear of God before them in all their ways. These men must have been well known to Abram by tradition, and of both it is said that they "walked with God"; and of the last it is emphatically said that he was a "just man, and perfect in his generations." That Noah was also a man of eminent faith has been seen. And here we have, in the verj' first manifestations of faith as a prin- ciple of character, the same truth brougnt out tliat is promi- nent in the New Dispensation, viz., that I'aitn towards God produces justice and uprightness towards man, and is tested by it. Anything called by the name of this much abused term. Faith, that fails to produce such results is dead; a mere sham and falsehood. Abram, the man of eminent faith, is to be a perfec*" man; the word translated perfect, both here and elsewhere, having its real signification in our English words, " upright," " hon- est," "'smcere," a man "in whom is no guile," a " single-minded" man. After this solemn charge as to Abram's conduct, we find an enlargement of the promise as to his posterity. " My covenant is with thee, and thou shalt be a father of a multitude of nations !" And as a sign of this enlargement, his name is expanded from Ab-Ram to Ab-Ra-Ham.. the first signifying " an eminent father," the second, " the father of a great multi- tude." That all this has been fulfilled the whole course of history shews. Then there is instituted that remarkable rite of Cir- cumcision, which brings these times of nearly four thousand vears ago into close touch with the times now present. For the Hebrew i^eople, all over the world, at the present day. most religiously observe this rite. So also, do others of the peoples descended from Abraham, but not universally, and they have not at all times. ' c rite of circumcision has always been practised by some he people of the Mohammedan world. but it has never beei universal observance or obligation with them. Some traces of 1 e also to be found in the histor}' of the ancient Egyptians and also of the Abyssinians But with none of these was it ever a part of a Divine covenant. With Abraham, however, it was the subject of l^ivine command. Do this; keep my covenant; thou and thy descendants in their generations. And this is to be a sign of the relation to sub- sist between the Almighty Father and Protector, and Abram's po<5terity — blessing and protection on the one hand ; obedience and honorable service on the other. This that is commanded is a manual act, and the obligation is put upon] parents to observe it with their children. — It was a command, therefore, in its nature, perfectly comprehensible and simple, about the meaning of which there could be no dispute; and it was easy to obey. And certainly, so far as all The Covenant of Circumcision. H7 history records, however sadly the Hebrew neople may at times have fallen off from spiritual obedience, ihey have never failed in the observance of this outward rite. The references to Circumcision in the New Testament are very striking. Circumcision, as a rite, was a symbolical token of the cutting off of sin, just as Baptism is a sign of the washing it away. But, it had to be pointed out to the lews of our Lord's time, steeped as they were in ceremonialism, that it was simply a sign; and that, if unaccompanied by the reality, viz., the obedience of the heart, it brought no blessing; also, that cir- cumcision, at the beginning, was not the means whereby the covenant of blessing came, but the sign that a blessing had come, as a reward of faith and obedience. Its imposition on children was a sign, that they inherited a nature from which sin needed to be cut out, or cut away; just as the surgeon's knife is a purifying instrument, cutting off an unsound and diseased member of the body. But, as it had been pointed out by Moses, that the reality of which this was the sign was the circumcision of the heart ; the same truth was strongly emphasized by the Apostles in preaching the Gospel accord- ing to Christ's commandment : " He! is not a Jew," writes, with great boldness, the Apostle Paul, himself a circumcised man, " he is not a Jew who is one outwardly, neither is that circumcision which is outward in the flesh. But he is a Jew, which is one inwardly; and circum- cision is that of the heart, in the spirit, ar.d not in the letter, whose praise is not of men, but of God." In accordance with all this, the Aposlles and elders, and brethren assembled in the first Christian council, refused to impose circumcision upon the converts from the Gentiles, and apparently left it open to the Jews who were converted to tnc faith of Christ to continue to practise it or not. Our Lord, in giving the great commission to preach the gospel to all nations, impose(l Baptism as an obligation, but said no word as to circumcision. John the Baptist, before Him, had denounced the idea that salvation came by mere lineal descent from Abraham, w-hich of course included cir- cumcision; and our Lord himself, more than once, exposed, in scathing and alarmine terms, the fallacy of such trust as this in mere lineal descent and circumcision, and refused to allow men to be children of Abraham at all (circumcised as they were), ui.'ess they " did the works of Abraham." Aluch oi what was said by our Lord and His Apostles, in their day, to Jews who were not living a life of faith and good- ness, is plainly applicable to Christians of the same charact'^r in these days; who, though baptized, are not entitled to be M isl; f ;.■ H f 148 The Coming Catastrophe. called Christians in reality, not having received that spiritual baptism which is of the spirit and not "n the letter merely, which is not of men, but of God. The Coming Catastuopiie to the Cities of the Plain. 'i And now, after these events, the shadow of coming judg- ment darkens over the wicked cities of the plain. God, the Supreme, in the depths of His infinite purpose, does, at times, permit wickedness to develope unchecked by outward repres- sion, to a height that seems to call aloud for retribution. Such, to speak of a modern example, was the condition of France during the awful Reign of Terror, the developments of which, as we read them, at one moment make ihe flesh creep with fear and horror, and at another rouse up a passionate instinct of retribution and vengeance. So, in the case of these wicked cities, the story is that their en.' — the sound of their damnable doings, had reached to the very heaven. God permits much, but there does at length come a time when the cup of iniquity is full, and wrath des- cends to the uttermost. The history of cities and nations proves it. The narrative is vivid of the steps of coming judg- ment. First are sent mesengers, who. in figurative language, are to see and know the truth of the matter. One of these would seem to have been the Lord himself in human fonn. Here, and elsewhere, through the Old Testament, we seem to have a dim shadowing forth, a prefiguration, of the time when the Son of God would be "manifest in the flesh"; where the terms " Angel of the Lord," and " The Lord" are used inter- changeably of the same person. Then, after a beautiful picture of the hospitality of camp life, we have one of the messengers — now called " the Lord" — say- ing, " Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do ?" and the fine testimony following : " I know him, niat he will com- mand his children and his household after him, to do justice and judgment." In every way — with two rare exceptions in the course of a long life — this great man's actions justify the position he was lifted up to: Well did he deserve the name — " Father of all that believe," and " Friend of God." For, as a friend he was treated, when the terrible doom that hung over these cities was made known to him. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him," said the Psalmist. And the Son of God Himself, in the da\ s of His flesh, spoke of His disciples as raised to the position of Friends : — " For all things," said He (John 15). " that I have heard of my Father, I havQ made known to you." It is singular to note the con- tinuity of this idea of making a " confidant" of a good man, by the second person of the Godhead. The Coming Qxtastrophc. 149 Now, when this terrible retribution is opened to the vie\v of Abraham, he instantly thinks of his nephew Lot. Lot, his wife, his family, are they to be involved in the threatened des- truction ? Fo'r it was destruction, evidently, though the man- ner of it was not made known. His heart stirred with com- passion, he breathes forth the most remarkable prayer, and IS the subject of the most remarkable colloquy, that has been recorded in sacred history. , , „ u v "Wilt thou destroy the righteous with the wicked? he begins. And he ends the first portion of the colloquy witli that pro- found query (referred to herein already). "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" Profound indeed ; a saying that goes to the very foundation of the Divine government of the wor d, and will solve, if reasonably applied, all tlie mysteries of the Divine way. What God does must be right, no matter how far beyond our comprehension it may be. Miiton wrote " Paradise Lost," that he might justify the ways of God to man. Often it is impossible, on the ground of human reason; yet, knowing how short the measuring line of human reason is, a wise man will be content to rest in faith, and wait till larger knowledge, wider experience, and more perfect wisdom will enable him to see what at present is dark and impenetrably mvsterious. 'It applies specially and pertinently to such a tremendous- judgment as was about to fall on these wicked cities. The praver of Abraham is a striking example, both of rever- ence and freedom, and also of continued importunity; the latter a quality specially commended bv our Lord and Saviour in the parable of the Unjust judge. And, though it did not save the cities or their inhabitants, it did, almost certainly, save that unfortunate man, Lot, and such of his family as were willing to flee from the danger with him. . I a.i I " ;)i '^m ( i M I II Oi 111 K CHAPTER X\L Tllli DliSTRUCTION OF TIIK CiTIES OF THE PLAIN. Genesis ig. The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah in this early period, has ahnost an exact i)arallel in the destruction of Her- cuhmeum and I'ompeii, in that hoth were accompanied by a storm of fire from the heavens ; and. in some respects, there was a parallel in the social and moral condition of their inhabitants. The two Roman cities had developments of great vice as well .Sodom and (Jomorrah. as is manifest from what has been found remaining since Pompeii was exhumed. But there the resemblance ceases. To the sudden and overwhelming over- throw of the cities under Mount X'esuvins we can certainly apply our Lord's words as to the men who were crushed by the falling of a tower at the pool of Siioam. " Suppose ye," said the Divine Teacher, " that these wore sinners al)ove all that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, nay!" The people of Herculaneum and Pompeii were tinners indeed, but there is no evidence that they were sinners above the people of the city of Rome; and we have no reason to look upon the overthrow as a special Divine judgment. For, if Divine judgment had fallen in the shape of fire from heaven, it would rather have fallen upon Rome itself, which had already shed the blood of Christian martyrs, and where deeds of abominable violence and vice were jjcing often enacted that cried aloud to heaven. The cry of Rome doubtless went up. a,j that of Sodom had done many centuries before, and we mav sec what looks like the movement of long delayed wrath and retribution in the storm and sack of the city by the P.arbarians in the time of Augustine. The movement of Divine reti ibution in the storm- ing of Jerusalem, and its utter destruction by the Roman army is in accordance with the prefiguration of the New Testament. The circumstances that preceded the lOming down of the fier}' storm on the Cities of the Plain reveal plainly enough, the abandoned licentiousness of the people of Sodom, with the violence that nearly always accompanies it. Lust and blood- shed are generally very close companions. Again, we must refer for an example to the early days of the French Revolu- tion. Two only of the Divine messengers remained ; doubtless the one called "the Lord" had departed. These two accepted The Destruction of the Cities. «5» Lot's hospitality ; for Lot, by this time, had become a resident of the city, and some of his daughters werj married to men of Sodom, though two of them were not. Apparently also, he had sons, as well as sons-in-law. The narrative makes it clear that he had entirely given up the i)astoral life, and had become settled as a citizen. The description of the mob raging round the door uf Lot's house, is graphic in its fidelity; true to nature and life, reminding us of mobs in Englind surrouncimg tlie house where some good Methodist i)reacher had taken refuge; or, on this continent, of the crowd surrounding the dwelling of some ])ersecuted negro whom they were deternnned to "lynch." The cry of the mob of Sodom, "bring them out," has resounded again and again in English towns and Southern cities, and tliDUgh the ]nirpose in the case of these abandoned Sodom- ites was more abominable, the end would certainly have been the same. And what a picture is given of the pitiful weakness of Lot ! Wretched man, willing to sacrifice the honor, and per- ha])s the life of his daughters; a sad picture of the degeneracy that had come over a man by sojourning in sucn a viuainous society. And then the brutality of the mob; the shout of " stand l)ack," the sneering reference to Lot as coming to sojourn, and now "he must needs ])e,a judge," the pressing hard upon him. the danger of the door being forced, and the roaring crowd bursting in; the rescue of Lot by the heavenlv messengers, who ])ullcd him into the house, and closed the door; all is told as by a very eye-witness, and gives a vivid pic- ture of lawlessness and wickedness, such as has been witnessed, alas, often enough, in the behaviour of mobs in modern days, l!ut ithe heavenly messengers had forces at their command of a very- potent character, more potent than any that men ot modern days have l)een able to employ lin their defence — more certain than rifles or revolvers, and more merciful. They struck ever}- one of the raving crowd with lilindness, " both small and great," small as well as great, for, as usual, there were mischievous boys in the mob, shouting and yelling with delight, and taking a foremost part in the fray. The Hebrew word employed to signify blindness rather suggests ,a tem- porary, than a permanent loss of sight. And now the danger was over. The /crowd w-as paralyzed, and after wearying them- selves in vain attempts to find the door, they dispersed. This wild scene took place late in the evening. Then follows the warning of the heavenly messengers, the command to Lot to search out all those belonging to him wb.o were not in the house, that they might not perish with the wicked city. Bur his sons-in-law, like the people in Noah's time, refused to believe it " He was as one that mocked, to his sons-in-law."' Again, we /have a scene that was repeated again and again in succeeding ages; the messengers of mercy derided, the warn- ing unheeded, the threatened judgment disbelieved; as the men of' Jerusalem did many a time and oft to the prophets of God; "I '*.A 152 TJic Destruction of the Cities. (1 I? and as the men of England and America have done again and again when warned by faithful messengers to " tiee from the wrath to come." Thus does history repeat itself, in the spiritual sphere as well as in the secular. Nor need we be surprised a', this. Human nature was as evidently ithe same in the days of Lot and Abraham as the hills of Judea were the same as those which the traveller meets with now. The story of the lives of these men is so true to nature as we know it, that we instinc- tively feel it to be real. But the night wore on. Time pressed. All who were in th.e house with Lot were willing to Hy. They believed, and showed their faith by their readiness to abandon all they had. Escape from the City of Destruction they Miust; a true type of those who forsake all to follow Christ, and obtain eternal life. Yet they lingered; a very true touch of nature again. They lingered, as men do who are about to leave a sinking ship, thinking probably that they may be able to save and carrv awa\ something. And so the night passed on. liut when morning- arose ; or evidently just as. the dawn was breaking, and before sunrise, the angels hastened Lot away. Arise, said tney, arise, " lest thou be consumed." And while they lingered, the angels laid hold upon them, almost dragging them away ; out into the street, and out of the city into, the open plain. Xow comes the stirring connnand, " Escape for thy life; look not behind thee; neither stay thou i in all the i^lain. Escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed !" This conmiand needs to be noticed in view of what happened to the wife of Lot. The mountainous region bordering the Dead Sea, then, pro- bably, as now, was a resort of the most lawless amongst the many lawless of the time; and Lot was afraid to go there. One thing cannot but strike us in all the history of this un- fortunate man, viz., that though in the main a good man, and well-meaning, he had none of the faith and confidence in Divine protection, none of the sturdy assurance that what God com- manded was right, which distinguished his relative Abraham. Afraid he was, and was allowed to remain in a small city in or near the plain, which, for his sake, was exempt from destruction. The narrative is of a hurried flight; and all arrived at this city of refuge save one, whose fate was retiiembered, and has been i^erpctuatcd for all time by the warning words of our Lord, " Remember Lot's wife !" She " looked back and became a pillar of salt ;" a terrible consequence of what appears a very slight oflfence. But it is evident that she not only looked back, which was itself a violation of the command given. " look not behind thee," indicating the urgency of the danger, but that she stayed behind, within the very circle of danger, not only looking, but lingering, her heart probably still in Sodom, thinking of her old home and her children still there; and that she was caught in the outskirts of the descending storm of sulphur and fire, which encrusted lier round and round '; . :Ml|lilHf|Ha|* liim Tlie Destruction of the Cities. 153 as she stood, until she became a hfeless statue of salt and sulphur. There was, apparently, nothing miraculous about this That which happened to this unfortunate woman was due to natural causes. She was caught just as some of tnose who tied from Pompeii were caugiit, and overwhelmed in the storm of ashes. Xor need it be imagined that it was a Divine judgment that overtook her. Blamable she undoubtedly was, and rash to a ilcgree, considering the urgency of the heavenly messengers. But many a man in shipwreck and in a burning bunding has done the same thing. LooKmg back has led to going back to recover something of value; and loss of life nas been the consc(|uence. The warning of our Lord, Kemember Lot's wife," was a warning against delay in the matter of salvation when the signs of coming judgment were plainly discernible. His words might apply to the impending destruction of Jeru- salem, or to the final ending of all earthly things at the coming of Christ to judgment. They are a warning, too, atrainst look- ing back into the world, and hesitancy as to decision and repentance, when the call of the gospel is sounding in the ears of men. But now, as to the storm of brimstone and fire from heaven by which these cities were overthrown, was it a natural occurrence, like the eruption that overwhelmed Ilerculaneum, or was it a special miracle ? It is not to nnich puqiose that such a question is asked, for no man. however learned and able, can possibly answer it. It does not answer the ([uestion to quote the text that " The Lord rained fire upon Sodom." for the word of Ciod, s])eaking in the most rational and philosophic mannc;, constantlv speaks of the operations of nature as the work of Almighty (iod. as they undoubtedly are. So, it was the Lord that caused tlio eruption that destroyed Pompeii, and in like manner, the great earth(|uake of Lisbon in the last century, and the terrible tidal floods, tidal waves and volcanic catastrophes of China, Japan, and New Zealand within the last few years. It seems to have been a principle of the Oivine jirocetlure from the beginning not to i)ut forth extraordinary powers when the end designed could be brought about by natural causes. Looking, then, at the storm of fi-e tliat fell on these cities, it is to be noted that the region is ono in which just such a catastrophe would be likely to occur. It is a region remark- able in many ways. The ]>iain of the Dead Sea is m^re than a thousand feet below the level of the octin, a spot unlike an\- other on the surface of the globe. It is volcanic and sul- phureous, its rocks are bituminous; slime pits are mentioned as abounding in the plain. There arc as])!'!alt and inflannnabU" substances all round about at this dav, aufl the Dead Sea water U wr '54 Tlic Destruction of the Cities. %• ^\ is not like the salt water of the ocean, but far denser. It is not mere salt, but salt, and sul])hur, and naphtha. The Dead Sea is now probably niucli larger than it was before the catastrophe. Doubtless the whole area now covered by it was affected by the eruptitjn, a change taking place like that already alluded to as having taken place in New Zealand, when the I'ink Falls were destroyed,, and the whole aspect of the surrounding country was changed; valleys becoming hills, and hills sinking into i)lains. Tliat such an eruption and storm of fire, descending like rain, might be a very natural occurrence, in such a region cannot be doubted, and it is i)roper to say that He who knows the end from the beginning, foreknew the time when the mighty forces that were at work would burst forth, and used these natural forces as means of judgment to men who were " sinners exceed- ingly," and not fit \.o live on the earth. Yet, from the answer to the pleading ])etition of Abram, that if there were ten right- eous men in Sodom, it shouUI not be destroyed, it might cer- tainly be inferred that the Almighty Ruler would hold in the eruptive forces in such a manner that t'ney would either not burst upon the cities, but upon some other part of the sur- rounding region; or that they should not burst forth until there had been time for all their inhabitants ^ ^ escape. That such wasi possible, is no more to be doubted, than we can doubt any other of the manifestations of Divine power recorded in Scripture, including that chief and sum of them all, the creating of the world "by the breath of his mouth." I)Ut it is vain to pursue such inquiries and thoughts. They can lead to no rational conclusion. The facts as related are pregnant withi lessons both as to the Divine procedure and human conduct. It is clear, for example : 1. That wicked men may, in the order of Divine government, be allowed to pursue high-handed courses of wickedness for a time, and without punishment. 2. Nevertheless, the time of judgment and retribution will come, although after long delay. 3. That it is a dangerous thing for a good man to become one) of a community of wicked men; dangerous for his sottl's health, for that of his family, and often for his temporal interest, unless indeed he goes amongst them as a Divine messenger, with an express mission of warning and call to repentance. 4. That when any people, are called, by a Divine voice, to flee from coming wrath, their duty is to obey without linger- ing, hesitating, or looking back. The difference between these events, and those of the over- whelming of Herculaneum and Pompeii, the earthquake of Lisbon, and the tidal wave of Japan is this : — that none of the latter yield any moral or spiritual lesson, or, in fact, any lesson whatever, unless it be that cities should not be built at the foot of volcanoes. ]\Ten are perfectly competent to draw such con- clusions for themselves, without a Divine revelation. But as ■iMU Subsequent Conduct of Lot. 155 to moral and spiritual matters, it is a matter of common expe- rience, that the very men wlio are sharp-witted and wi; in the ordinary things of secular life, are often dull to the verge of stupidity in matters of higher import. " Iheir eyes tluy have closed, and their hearts they have hardened," this is the true testimony of the Divine word of such as these. And this is the testimony of experience also. The Conduct of Lot subsequently. One might wish that a veil were drawn over such a scene of depravity as is revealed in the closing verses of the chapter. Ihit the Holy Ghost has not drawn a veil over this, and many uther scenes of deplorable wickedness. And wny ? Clearly because such records are for the warning and instruction of mankind. I'or if some men in some places, in certain states of st)ciety, conceive that records of outrageous wickedness have no practical bearing on the life that surrounds them, let them remember that these Scripture records are for the instruction of mankind in all ages and countries, and all states of society; and that although some men .and communities may not need such warnings, there are others that do. I'ut taking the condition of society, such as we know it, in tliese so-called Christian communities of modern times, is there nnt. in this narrative, a terrible warning against the free use uf wine ? Corrupted as the moral sense of this wretched man Lot had l)ecome, it would have been impossible to couiUiit the wicked- ness recorded unless his senses had l)een stupefied by intoxica- tion. This is the second warning of the kind in these very earl\- records, and all experience shows that the warning is a pertinent one even in these modern 'lays of Cnnstendom. As to the conduct of the daughters, what can be said, but that it is a frightful instance of the working of corrupt influ- ences, year after year, and going on until moral sense is lost. ' Evil connnunications corrupt goo-' manners." This proverb, quoted by St. Paul to the Corinthians, is of heathen origin, but is profoundly wise and true, like many others that tl e Greeks have left us. And it has never had a more terrible exemplifica- tion than in the conduct of these two young women, who, in their early days were probably living an! imiocent and v''-tuous life, when their father was a chief of a tribe, with flocks and herds feeding on the plains, but who, in the corrupt life of a wicked city, had gradually imbibed the poison of bad sentiments, and now did that which rendered them infr.nious for all time. There is another reason why their wrotchcd deeds are men- tioned in the Divine record, viz.. that the children born were named ^loab and Bcn-Ammi, the first being the head of the great Moabite nation, and the other of Mie nation of the Am- monites. Both these were distinguished by their 'dolatn'. and licentiousness, and both were enemies, giving sore trouble to the Israelitish people during many generations. '1 Critical Note as to the Dead Sea. \H\ i; . : J. ' 111 The Dead Sea is now divided, very noticeably, into two dis- tinct parts, the northern being of a very great depth, upwards of a thousand feet; the southern being very shallow, being not more than twenty feet deep. The southern part is marked off from the northern by a projecting peninsula. It has long been matter of doubt and controversy whether the wicked cities were at the northern or southern end of the valley ; Ijut of late, and as the region became better known, the weight of opinion has been in favor of the southern extremity, and the remark- able diff^erence between the great depth at <»ne en-^l and the extreme shallowness at the other, favors this idea. For it is easy to conceive that the whole of the shallow part of the lake was once dry land; a fair and lovely region, well watered with streams from the mountains. The objection to the truthfulness of the narration arising from the entire absence of any remams of cities cither there or elsewhere through the valley is entirel\- w'tliout foundation. I'^or the narrative is that the cities were entirely destroyed by fire. Now, no matter how solidly they might be built, it is imjjossible that after the lapse of nearly four thousand years of the action of the elements since the fiery storm overthrew and destroyed! them, any vestiges that survived the fire, could have remained to be seen in these modern days. And if it is said by way of rejoinder that the adjacent countr,- abounds with ruins of very ancient cities, let it be remembered that these were all of much later date, certainly a thousand years later, than Sodom and Gomorrah, and then that none of them were ever overthrown by such a catastrophe as overtook the Cities of the Plain. 'i«C« ttmm CHAPTER XNIII. Ahkaham Ofi'eking up Isaac. Genesis 32. " And it came to pass, after tliesc things, tiiat God did temp: Abraham; and said unto him, "Abraham; and he said, Behold, Here I am." It is most unfortunate that the translators of the Scriptures, in the ordinary version, sometimes used terms which not only failed to convey the true meaning of rhc original, but were suggestive of what was impossible, viz., that the God of truth and justice could do wrong'. It is, too, most singular that they should have translated this verse, in such a manner as to make it appear that the Supremely Good, on this occasion, actually tempted i\.braham to do that which was evil, when a previous translation gave the passage its true sense; a sense which has been restored in the Revised \'ersion. Both these translations give the passag'e thus : — ■' And it came to pass, after these things, that God did prove Abraham;" this being the real idea intended to be conveyed by this most remarkable narrative. God ])Ut Abraham to the proof, by imposing upon him the very severest trial of faith and obedience that it was possible for any human being* to be subjected to. The special object to be attained bv this cxtraord-nary trial, at Abraham's advanced age, is not directly revealed to us ; but it is easy to see what profound lessons of life and conduct may be wrapped up in it. This "putting to the proof" is practised constantly in the case of such inanimate thing's as may, at times, be subject to a great strain. And the proof is by putting upon them during tile process a mucli greater strain than thev are likelv, under ordinary circumstances, to have to bear. Vcr this tlicre is the obvious reason, that extraordinary circumslnnccs may some- times arise, and that such exigencies, though they may never actually come to pass, should be provided for. Thus are proved the cables of a ship, the timbers of .; bridg'c. ine iron- work of g'irders and beams for a pier or a railway station. Thus were proved the galleries of the building in Hyde Park where the first great Exhibition was held. In the case of men who have to perform some arduous duty, or to hold some difficult command, it is rare that they are allowed to exercise their func- tions until they have been tested and thc'r quality proved. 1 m 158 Abraham Offering up Isaac. II Indeed, it is quite common for a superior, in tiie course ot training his subordinates, to give a man a task ol unusual severity, far more than he is ever Hkely to tneet with in the course of his ordir.ary duty. It is thus that the temper, the patience, the cou' age, of a man is tried, in a manner quite apart from the proof Uiat may be required of intellectual fitness. It is related, whether truly or not, but it is likely enough to be true, of a certain Principal of a Theological Training College, that he would sometimes request a candidate to wait upon iiim, at four o'clock on a winter's morning; that he would keep him waiting in his study for two hours without seeing him ; and that, when the interview took place, lie would begin by asking a number of questions such as a very young school- boy could answer. Having thus tested the candidate's morale; his obedience, his patience, his d.^ility; if the be- haviour of the man were satisfactory, he iwould then proceed to an examination of an intellectual character. For, as a wise man, he well knew that other qualifications, oesides those t^f scholarship, are absolutely necessary to prosecute the work of the ministry successfully. The same principle is enunciated in the Epistle of the Apos- tle Paul to his " son in the faith," Tmiotliy. where, speaking of the setting apart of Deacons to their office, he lays down the rule, "and let them first be proved"; the oiiginal word sig- nifying a proof by trial, as metals are assayed l:)efore being stamped. Such considerations may enable us to understand the Divine procedure in this matter of Abraham's offering up Isaac. Tlie Lord, who: designed that Abraham should be for an " Ex- ample" to all who should subsequently believe and trust Him; and specially to such of them as should be called to posts of high service, and severe sacrifices, was pleased to put him to the severest test that could be applied to any man. For. when considered, it must appear to be such. This son, Isaac, had been born especially by Divine promise, and the solemn coven- ant of God was that the sacred line of blessing should be con- tinued through him. For this purpose, Ishmael, the strong and daring boy, whom Abram favored, had been set aside. Yet now he was commanded to take this son of a Divine cov- enant, and put him to death ! How, then, could this covenant of blessing be fulfilled ? How could the sacred race be con- tinued ? Was all this line of wonderful promises, that had sustained him in leaving his own country, and cheered him in numberless dark hours, to be broken ofT, and hi ought to nought ? This edifice, so laboriously built up tiirough many long years of faith and hope, hoping indeed, oftimes, against hope — was it all to fall into ruins ? A dark mysterv indeed ! Then, besides the horror of the command for a father to put his son to death ! How can maimmmmm mmmm . r ^■'M Abraham Offering up Isaac. 159 there be Divine justice in that ? Still more siranp^e anc dread- ful is the conunand to offer him up for a JJurnt Offering I What ! is the Almighty Ruler and Father, my Shield and Reward, become like one of the bloodthirsiv gods of the na- tions round about, that He must have a numa.i sacrifice offered to him ? Such thoughts must have troubled the breast of a man such as Abraham was. They are not r(N:orded. Aotliing, indeed, is recorded, except his simple unquestioning ol.iedience. There is no intimation even of such a yearning as choracterized Abraham in so marked a manner when he pleaded for Lot and for Sodom. Not a word. Not a thought, ai)parently, but of going about to obey the Divine conunand. We may well say, what can such silence mean ? The New Testament shall give the answer Amongst the heroes of faith, the " cloud of witnesses" who arc marshalled before us in the Episde to the Hebrews (ch^.pter 11) Abraham naturally is most conspicuous. His career is rapidly passed over in brief, and the great spiritual ideas that were its inspiration opened up and revealed. Then, passing on. tlie in- spired writer records : — " By faith, Abraham, when he was tried" (note the word tried, as expressive of the true nature of the transaction; a trial, or proof), " 'offered up Isaac': and he that had received the promises, offered up his only begotten son of whom it was said. That in Isaac shall thy seed be called. 'Accounting that God was able to raise him up, even from the dead'; from whence also he received him. speaking figuratively." Here then we have the key to Abraham's conduct : — He obeyed this very strange conunand, havitig a perfect and unshakable confidence that what the S.ipreme Lord of his life had directed him to do was right. He obeyed, with the same perfect confidence (to compare earthly things with heavenly) with which the soldiers of Napoleon or Welhngton would execute plans and movements of which they could not oomprehend the reason; nay more, plans which to them would seem utterly unreasonable and fraught with disaster. Was not our own P.alaklava charge an instance of the same absolute obedience of what must have "^eemed to be an order of absolute madness ? " Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die." And must it not l)e so always in spheres v;here men have to co-operate in the carrying out of large plans and the working of great enterprises. .Some men must lead, must calculate and give directions, with the responsibilitv of succes". or failure before them. And others must follow; obeying impl-citly and without knowledge. It is impossible th.at a President, a General, a Captain, a Superintendent, the Premier of a Govern- ment, the head of an enterprise, should discuss all his plans W i ' ' ■■ . ' ui 160 Abraham Offering up Isaac. witli subordinates, and that they should obey only when they approve or understand. The business neither of the world nor the church could be carried on if such a rule prevailed. No. Men must obey when they do not understand. Way, they must obey, even when they are in a position to for.n sonu; judgment as t(i what is ordered to lie done, and when their judgment differs from that of the chief. It is jjrecisely here where the faith and obedience of a subor- dinate are tested. " I do not understand the reason of this movement," a loyal officer will say, " but I shall execute it." Nay, more. " I seriously fear this operation will lead to dis- aster." says another, and an officer of higher grade, " but the Cummander-in-Chief knows better than I." Such things as these occur in even,- sphere of life; in civil affairs as well as military, in the conduct of the church, in all its spheres of service. Missions, Parish affairs. Diocesan matters; but above all, in the sphere of government. In that sphere, num- bers of things require to be done for which it would be highly improper to assign reasons to subordinates. And, not seldom, there are things than even to well informed men, men of ex- jx'rience and intelligence, appear to be unreasonable in a high degree. Nevertheless, they are done, and done loyally and heartily. And why ? Because there is perfect confidence or faitli in the superior. Ihit in Abraham's case there is stated to have been a con- sideration of how the command to offer up his son in sacrifice could be consistent with the promise of a line of posterity through that son. And we are informed of the conclusion he arrived at. The language of the Epistle to tiie I^ebrews in this respect is noteworthy. We are told in chapter 11. v. ig. that the patriarch obeyed. " Accounting that uod v>'as able to raise him from the dead." The word translated " accounting," a word from which our English word "logic" is taken, sug- gests reasoning, calculating; a consideration of circumstances, and the arrival at a reasonable conclusion. And. indeed, the conclusion was reasonable in a high degree. Could not God who commanded the death of the son, raise him again from the deaature of this command, viz., "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right!" This is solid ground. Only let a man be con- vinced that a command is really from the Supreme Ruler ot the I'niverse, he cannot, in the nature of things, but obey with confidence, as did Abraham. The pathetic and beautiful incidents of the journey have often been commented on. The prompt obedience, the inquiry of the lad, " Where is the lamb ?" the answer, unconsciously wmm Abraham Offering up Isaac. i6i anticipating the result, "God will provide himself a lamb;" an answer thatj contained the very words that were to be em- bodied after this event, in one of the names of the Supreme; above all, the extraordinary and unhesitating calm with which this terrible transaction was prepared for, and the ecjually ex- traordinary submission of the son in allowing himself to be bound, when he could so easily have escaped, form a picture of undying interest, which has had a singular fascination for faithful souls in all subsec(uent ages. Well did the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews charac- terize the transaction as an actual ofifering up of Isaac by his father; for such, in efifect, it really was. "By faith, Abraham, when he was put to the test, ofTered up Isaac"; yielding him at the Divine command, parting with him in efifect and inten- tion just as surely as if the actual sacrifice had taken place. The intervention of the Divine Being, at the last moment, when the lad was actually lying bound upon the altar, and the hand of the father was raised to slay the son, is not the least remarkable of the incidents of this wonderful narrative. Yet the reason given for this intervention carries an irresistible •conviction. The purpose of the trial was fully accomplished. The actual taking of the lad's life would not have demonstrated one whit more clearly the absolute nature of the patriarch's trust, nor his readiness to obey, no matter how dark and mys- terious, how utterly incomprehensible the Divine requirement might be. That being accomplished, the hand of extreme pressure is taken off. " The trial of faith," to quote the words of the Apostle Peter, " was much more precious tlian the trial of gold in the fire," " Lay not thy hand uoon the lad, for now I know that thou fearcst God; seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son. from me !" Thus spake the Divine Ruler of Abraham's life. Another sacrifice was provided, a ram offered up in place of the i)atriarch's son, and Abraham, full of a deep and profound satisfaction, called the name of the place " Jehovah-Jireh," " The Lord will see," that is. see to it, or will provide (provide being only the Latin form of foresee). A grand truth that has stamped itself on the heart of succeeding ages. Many cen- turies afterwards, at the time the book of Genesis was written, the saying was still remembered. Men then said to one another, in times of darkness and sore trial, remembering this scene on the Mount Moriah, "The Lord will see." And they have been saying so. and most truly and wisely, down to the days in which we live. When the servants of God have been in dark and difficult places, out of which they could see no way, they have lifted up their souls in calm confidence, making sure that "The Lord will provide." Many a sailor has said this, when tossing about on stormy seas, and on treacherous coasts, or unknown shores. Manv a missionary traveller, like I i 162 Abraham Offering up Isaac. Livinfjstonc. in the depths of a dark coiitincnt. or Carey when hopelessly contendiii}^ ajjainst the hostility of his countrytneii, or Judson, wearing out months of a precious life in the prisons of I'.urinah. has been lifted into light and hope by the mighty truth, "Jehovah jireh — The Lord will see!" The same thought has cheered nianv a i)oor widmv when honestly struggling to bring U]) her children decently, hoping almost against hope. And many a hard-pressed man of affairs, merchant, statesman, farmer, soldier, has taken heart in dark and trying d.".ys, when nothing seemed before him but bank- ruptcy, disasicr, or defeat, by remembering how, at the very last moment, the wonderful hand of (iod was seen " in the Mount,' intervening, saving, providing, and turning night into ilay. These are not sentimental fancies. They are facts of human experience, repeated too often, with too many men, in ton great a variety of circumstances, through too many ages of time, to leave doubts of their being solid realities. And now we have thatr remarkable declaration of Almighty God; really transcendant in its solemnity. " P>y myself have I sworn, because thou hast done this, and hast not withheld thine only son from me: that in l)lessing I will bless thee, and will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore." A wonderful oath indeed, and never forgotten by the descendants of this man. For, nearly two thousand years afterwards, wc find the father of John the Bap- tist, speaking by inspiration, respecting his son's destiny, call- ing this great oath to mind (Luke i : 73). And after this, when writing to his fellow countrymen, who had embraced the faith of the Messiah, the Apostle Paul also stirred up their faith and zeal by reminding them of this oath, in the pregnant words : — " I'or men verily swear bv the greater; and an oatli for confirmation is to them an end of all strife. "Wherein God, willing more abundantlv to shew unto the heirs of promisi- the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath." That by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for (iod to lie, we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before us." And now, what is the practical significance of this wonderful narrative. The story has been scoffed at by unbelievers, and made the butt of sarcasm and contempt, if not an occasion of deep enmity to the Divine record, and to - time are taunted as believers in a God who commanded a father to murder his own son. But, as in every other objection to the sacred narrative, it is evident that the objector, even if hon- estly desirous to judge in fairness of what is recorded, has not UiiHapH Abraham Offering up Isaac. 163 bestowed proper attention upon the words of the narrative. For the record is, that the God of Covenant Blessing, put this man to the proof. The transaction was a trial ! And in all trials, there was a pre-deterniined course as to how far the trial should go. The connnand, moreover, was not to murder his son, not simply to slay him; but to offer him up, to sacri- fice him; to part with him, to give him up to Gotl. Xow, the reasonableness or otherwise of this can only be determined by considering what lessons for subsequent times and ages are embodied in it; what stimulus, what consolation, what encour- agement, what direction — that is, if there are any less(jns to be found in it at all. And here we are on no uncertain ground, but on the solid rock of actual human experience, as has been already said. .It is a fact, that if to great numbers of jieople, ft)r many ages past, even before the time of Christ's coming, the (|uestion had been put, " has this narrative of the offering up of Isaac been a stimulus, or an encouragement, or a consola- tion to you ? These large numbers of people would undoubt- edly have said, " It has ;" and in many cases they would have said, " It has been such in a supreme degree." For, I also have been severely tried. I have been called to give up to the service of (lod, of His church, of my country, my only son, the hope of my life, or my dearly beloved daughter, the crown and joy of our house. It was a dark day. P>ut the thought of this sacrifice of Abiaham, of the mighty, calm, un- cjuestioning faith that led up to it, and of the wonderful bless- ing that flowed from it, lifted me up out of doubt and darkness into the very mount of blessing, so that I also could say, " In the mount shall the Lord be seen." For fathers and mothers in all ages have had to do, in efifect, what Abraham was called to do. And there was a Divine prescience of all this; a foreknowing of what would come, and of what would be the means of strength and comfort to all who had to do it. And to the number of those, also, who are called to the dis- charge of duty of a strange character, of which the reason is beyond comprehension (and there have been manv such in every sphere) this narrative is an inspiration, as indicating to them that there is certainly a reason in the counsels of Divine wisdom for the course they are about to follow; and that the path of implicit obedience, in perfect confidence, is the path of blessing — not ordinarv blessing, but lilessing multiplied and enlarged. Few men enter on a decided course of religious action with- out sacrifice. Sometimes, it is the giving up of friends and companions, sometimes even separating from a man's own kindred, as in the case of Hindoos, or the French of Lower Canada; sometimes the parting with some cherished course of life, the sacrifice being like the cutting off a right hand, or the plucking out of a right eye. Our Lord spoke, of such sacrifice % I :! !■! 1 •If 1 n II 1 1 P m 164 Abraham Offering up Isaac. as this in the strong and peremptory terms, " unless a man forsake all he hath, he cannot be my disciple." Such times are exceptions in a man's life. They do not take place every day. But when they come, tliey must l)e met as Abraham met the connnand U) offer up his son. And the same blessing will follow. The striking prcfiguration of this narrative is somewhat be- yond the line of these practical studies. 15ut the least reflection will shew the remarkable resemblance of its incidents to the spiritual realities of redemption. God gave up his dearly beloved and only son. The Son yielded himself up in perfect submission. He was sacrificed on the same mountain. Great glory to God and blessing beyond thought to all mankind was the result. I iiMJ' LllAlTKR XIX. Ahkaiiam's Carl: for the Marriage or iiis Son Isaac. Genesis 2^. The exquisite narrative of this chapter is not only charming in itself, as a beautiful idyll of Eastern life, but is full of prac- tical lessons for men and women in these very days. Isaac was to continue the sacred line. Hence the choice of a wife was a matter of the most sacred importance. Being old, and fearing he might not live to see the event, Abraham took a most solemn oath from the chief steward of his house, that he would not take a wife for his son of the daughters of the Canaanites. I'^or they were all idolaters. This was doubtless under that Divine direction which is so singularly manifest in every step of this business. For He who " knows what is in man," knows that it is dangerous for the godly to marry the ungodly. The tendency was, and is, and always has been, for the ungodly, whether wife or husband, to draw down the other to the lower level. So, in early Christian times, the utmost care was taken to surround marriage with safeguards. " The woman may marry whom she will," wrote the Apostle Paul to his brethren in the city of Corinth,! "but only in the Lord," a most significant caveat; "only in the Lord !" (I. Cor. 7, 39). And this is followed by the command, in a subsequent pastoral letter, " Be ye not unequally yoked with unbelievers;" for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness ?" — IL Cor. vi., 14. Beauty, wealth, position, none of these are forbidden. But to marry with the ungodly, the unbelieving, the unrighteous — this is expressly forbidden. And all experience, in all ages, coun- tries, and states of society, shews the perfect wisdom and rea- sonableness of this prohibition. Not to speak of a marriage between a Christian and a heathen, or a Christian and a Hebrew, it is generally found inexpedient that there should be marriage even between a Protestant and) a Roman Catholic. " How can two v.alk top-ether unless they are agreed ?" says the same Apostie. If ^both arc in earnest as to religion, there musi be constant division and separation, leading to heart- burnings and jealousy; dissensions as to bringing up of chil- dren, and the setting before them of an evil example in vital matters. If one or other of the parents be not particularly in earnest, such a marriaee is more likely toi result in confirmed indifference to religion, both in the parents and children. iG6 AbrahaiH and Isaac's IVifc. li Tlie entering- on tlie marriage relatit)n ilunightlessly, and with little consideration, is owe of the evil sig-ns of the times we live in. Marriage may not be, as the Roman church makes it, a "sacrament." iUit that it is a high and solenm Ordinance, carrying with it most serious consei|Uences f )r l'>ng contmuing years, and future generations, is as certain as that it exists at all. That the only rational basis of marriage is that of an en- gagement for life; taking one another "for better or for worse, until death us do i)art," will be evident when it is con- sidered how long it takes to l)ring ui>, educate, and i)lace out children in the world; and how sui)remely necessary it is for the woman to have the assurance of sustenance and protection during this long course of years. 'The State, most properly, takes cognizance of this rela- tion, and makes laws with regard to the parties entering upon it. Ihit it is a relation which can never be rightly entereil upon e.\cei)t with the sanctions of religion as the basis of its obligations. It was in this si)irit of solenmitv that the good patriarch entered on the business of seeking a wife for his son. Atul it was in a sjMrit also, of confident faith in Divine guidance. Sending his Steward, with a retinue and presents on the long journey northward to the land of his kindred, he says to him : "The Lord (iod of Heaven, which t(.)ok me from my fatlier's lK)use . . . He shall .send an angel before thee." Lan- guage this, that opens up a wonderful field of thought. I'or though no angelic messengers are ever seen witli the bodily eye. in these ages of the world, they (Vi not need to be seen with the eye of the bodv for their presence to be realized by a good man. That the angels are dod's messengers, and "min- istering sjiirit^ to them who shal' be heir> of satvatimi." is a truth of the New Testament disix'usation. in which we live; a truth to be grasped by faith, yet a most reasonable truth, con- sidering how difficult the jnith of life is, and tin-ough what a wilderness every man has to make his way. Xo laughing of faith to scorn, will do away with the difficulty of life; and none but a fool will make light of any revelation of help from a higher than human source, if such a helj) there be, as un- doubtedly there is. The many promises made to the seed of .Mitaham according to the flesh, are all inherited by his spiritual children, the men and women of like faith, in these later times. And one of these promises is that of the Xinety-first Psalni : " He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. And in their liands shall they bear thee up, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone." And what, under the supposition that the world and all the peop'e in it. are under the cognizance and guidance of Him who created it; what more reasonable than that subordinate tti itiim Abraham and Isaac's Wifi'. 167 beings should be employed in the spiritual realm, helpintj, strenj^thening, -avA guiding those whose lives have been con- sciously placed 'a subjection to Him. So, when engaging in any imoortant enterprise, on setting ')Ut on a long antl varied jourt'.ey, any man who is living his life in harmony with the wdl of Him that made him. may ct)n- tidently look for Divine helpers to be about him. "the angels of (iod going before^ him to show him the way." I'.ut to exercise such a faith as this, it is not necessary that a man believe all the foolish stories or fanciful tales about angels that have gathered round the literature of the church. These "old wives fables," as the Apostly I'aul calls them, are hindrances to rational faith. The revelation of (iod is the onlv sure ground of ct)ntidence, in this and all other matters of a spiritual sort. And when men travel beyond this record, they enter a region of spiritual fog and darkness. The promise that a man sliall be so borne up that he shall not "dash his foot against a stone," reminds us lu)w easy it is to stumble in the journey of life; and not o\\\\ to stumble, but to fall and hurt oneself; to break a limb, to fall even over a ])reci|>ice and be lost. Many a man has had this lamentable oxi)erience in business, in politics, in the church; many a woman in the sphere of social life, in coni])anionship with her own sex, and. still more, with the t/her. In this very matter of marriage, how many have stund)led through forget fulness or neglect of Goil's conunandments, and have fallen, finally, over a precipice into that dismal pit of divorce, from which, as a rule, there can be no extrication. lUit we fo'lOA' the servant of Abraham on his long journey northwards iT'-.m Hebron, over a track that, even then, had long been followed by traders and travellers going from Meso- potamia to Egypt, — the same that was followed by Abraham '.imself when he left his country and kindred ; the same, doubt- less, or nearly, that is followed by travellers to this day. He travelled with a retinue — many camels, and servants; and this for safety, as men have to do' still, through the same region ; and he arrives at last at the jilace where .Abraham's kindred had their abode. This was in the country of Mesopotamia, north of Damascus. And now wr. can imagine the per|)le\ity of a man charged with such a nnssion as this. The real difticultv of the exi)e- dition has now begun. Apparently he is in ignorance (and he probably was in entire ignorance), of the various members of the families composing Abraham's kindred ; what number of daughters were among them ; what were their ages, character and suitableness, or otherwise. And. even if he is supposed to be able to remain long enough amongst then', to discrimin- ate and choose, how is the choice to be made effective by the consent of parents and relatives, whose views might not by any W^ !i* »i: i M 1 68 Abraham and Isaac's Wife. means be in harmony with those of the stranger. And then, there is the ali-important matter of the consent of the chosen one herself. This particular difficulty had, very naturally, been foreseen from the outset. " Pcradventure," said the thought- ful steward, " the woman will not be willing to follow me into this land ! Am 1 then to bring thy son to the land whence thou camest ?" This, certainly, would seem to be the most natural course. Let the young man, in that case, go and plead his own suit. But the father would not consent to this; for some reason not given. But he had full confidence in the guidance of Divine Providence in this very delicate and diffi- cult matter. The steward, however, having come to the very place where his mission is to be fulfilled, is strongly impressed with the difficulty of choosing, and the danger of making a wrong- choice. And, indeed, considering all the consequences that flow from a life-long union between man and woman in mar- riage, he might well almost despair and wish that such a serious business had never been entrusted to him. Then a ver}' characteristic scene is opened to us. The stew- ard finds relief in prayer. And he prays in a very remarkable style for success in the object of his journey. There is a touch that seems almost like irreverence in the detail of this prayer. The steward, most earnestly desirous for Divine direction, ad- dresses Almighty God as if he were speaking to a man : — " Behold, I stand by the well. The daughters of the men of the city come out to draw water. 'Let it come to pass that the damsel to whom I shall say, Let down thy pitcher, that I may drink," and she shall say, ' Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also.' . . Let this be she that thou hast ap- pointed.'' A singular particularity in the prayer, yet, if analysed, we shall see that the intent and purpose of it is most wise and sound. It is the kind of prayer which is in harmony with God's will, the only prayer that any man can expect a favorable answer to. For, to begin with, it recognizes the directing hand of Providence in the matter, and that this marriage should be one of Divine appointing, " Let this be she whom thou hast appointed !" b'urther, the kind of woman his thoughts were dwelling upon, was such as God could certainl\- approve. He was looking for fine moral ciualities. She was to be courteous and obliging, and that to an unusual degree. It would have been courteous and graceful io hand her pitcher to the stranger; but to add, " Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also, indicated an exuberance of kindness and good will : a kindness that was willing to labor and sacrifice for kindness' sake. Certainly all this is in harmony with His will, who is goodness in his very essence. And when a man, even in t'lese times when Divine direction is not so i)lainly manifest, the igh not less real, when a man prays that he may get suc'i a wife, his 1' Abraham and Isaac's Wife. 169 prayer is very likely to be answered. For. in addition to extreme courtesy and kindness, the woman the steward prayed for was to exhibit great industry, capacity for work, and knowledge exactly suited to the station she was to till. Slie was to be, in fact, the kind of woman so well pourtrayed in the last chapter of the book of inspired Proverbs. If a man prayed for a beautiful wife, or a rich wife, or a wife of high social position, forgetting the higher and si)iritual qualities that make the glory of a woman — even if he were a good man, it is most unlikely that his desire would be granted. For such an answer might be the ruin of him. But, one may say, are w^e not taught that " if we ask, we shall receive; that if we seek, we shall find ?" \'ery true. 15ut by the same word, and by the same Divine Teacher, we are taught that prayer such as is sure of an answer nuist be offered " in faith," in harmony with the Divine will, '" in the name of Jesus Christ." But how can a man ask ' in faith" for what the Divine word has taught him may be a hindrance and a burden: how for things that are not in harmony with the Divine will, how, in the name of Christ, for things that Christ has never pro- mised, and never blest. The simile employed to express wil- lingness to answer prayer should teach us what sort of prayer we may expect an answer to. " If a son ask bread of a father, will hci give him a stone ? or, if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent ?" Very true. r>ut suppose the son, in his ignorance or foolishness, ask for the stone, what then ? Suppose lie ask for the serpent, will he get it ? Xay, verily. The Fatlier in Heaven gives " good things" to them that ask, things that are intrinsically good and valuable, as measured and judged by Him. Xot that beauty and wealth are bad in themselves, but that, if sought for their own sake, they may become snares and hindrances. In the case before us, the steward showed his wisdom and his fitness for the mission with which his master had entrusted him. His thoughts were dwelling, not on beauty, wealth, or station, but on real goodness and suitableness for the life the wife of his master's son would have to lead. And his prayer was literally answered, being inspired, as all true prayer is, by Him who is the object of it. And it was answered, like another great petition we read of (Daniel ix,2<)) before he had finished speaking. So runs this ex(|uisitely beautiful and simple story, a story that bears upon it an evident stamp of truth : — " Before he had done speaking (v. 15) behold Rebekah came out, with her pitcher on her shoulder; and the scr\'ant ran to meet her, and said. ' Let me. I pray thee, drink a little water of thy pitcher.' Aufl she said, ' Drink, my lord.' Mark the courtesy of her answer : " And when she had done giving him drink, she said. ' T will draw water for thy camels xlso, until they have done drinking !' " 12 'ii » an 170 Abralimn ami Isaacs Wife. ill 11 Well luigiil tlie good man hold his peace in wonder, at the immediate fulfilment of his prayer. So, nothing doubting, in the full confidence of faith, he produces his costly presents, a golden massive " ornament for the forehead" (not an earring) and two golden bracelets fc" her hands; then accepting ftn- himself, his retinue and his camels, the offered hospitality, he bows down, "worshipping the Lord," full of thankfulness and ])raise, testifying, " I, being in the way the Lord hath led me to the hcjuse of my master's brethren !" 'J'he rest of the narrative is most dramatic and beautiful. " The welcome of Rebekah's brother Laban (of whom we hear much hereafter) ' Come in, thou blessed of the Lord,' glad hounds in the steward's ears, as indicating faith in the same Divine Lord; the excitement in the house; the refusal of the steward to eat until he has told his errand; the acknowledg- ment of the Divine hand by Laban and his father Bethuel; the reference of the great matter to the damsel herself in the words. " Wilt thou go with this man ?'' and her simple and direct answer, " I will go;" the solemn blessing they bestowed upon her at parting, ' I'hou art our sister; be tliou the mother of thousands of myriads; and let thy seed ])ossess the gate of those who hate them" — all these combined to form one of the most touching pictures that has ever been drawn by the pen either of an inspired or an ordinary biographer; a picture of simplicity, courtesy, goodness, piety, consideration, that is almost unique in literature. The damsel, we are told, " was very fair to look upon." That she was stout and healthy is evidenced by her watering all the steward's camels. So, as it was with another, who, seeking for the best thing first, obtained other things he did not ask. the steward had the great satisfacion of taking home to his master a young woman who, by every ciuality of body and mind, was worthy to be an ancestress of a sacred race. The picture of her arrival is a fit close to this narrative. Isaac, a pious and meditative man, was out in the fields, meditating or praying (for the Hebrew word will bear either interpretation) when he saw, probably a long way off, the cavalcade of camels and attendants. And Rebekah, she, too, is eagerly looking out. as they are coming tow-ard this south country, where the settlement of Isaac was, near that famous well of Lahai-roi, " the we' of him that seeth me." She sees a man coming. Enquiring., who he is, she learns that this is her future husband. She alights from her camel,taKes her veil and covers herself, and thus, with all ceremony and res- pect, these two came together, whose union had been so strangely brought about. And well does the narrative con- clude by the statement that, " she became his wife, and Isaac loved her." as well he might; and was comforted after his mother's death. sfSEsa m K.W Additional Notes as to Adraiiam. jenesis 2j. Abraham lived long with his wife Sarah. She died at an ad- vanced age, at Hebron — the same Hebron which is still one of the most famous of the towns visited by travellers in Palestine, hing about twenty-five miles south of Jerusalem, in the hill country of Judali. This chapter of the book of Genesis is an interesting one, giving as it does, a perfect picture of Abra- ham's position as " a stranger and a sojourner in the land," as he speaks of himself to the children of Heth, while yet, to them, he is " a mighty prince," or " a prince of God," as the Hel)rew literally means. He was well known to them, for though he had carried his fiocks and herds over a great extent of country, he had sojourned there before, and had made an alliance with their chiefs at the time when he had gone out to defeat the bands that had carried off Lot. This place of his sojourn and encampment, IVIamre, near Hebron, is still asso- ciated with Abraham, for there is a venerable tree on the heights above the city that still bears his name. The chapter gives an idea, also, of the development of civili- zation up to that time, in the matters of coined money, and the buying and selling of land, which are not materially removed from what prevails in our own day. The lapse of nearly four thousand years has made little difference. Abraham himself did not own a foot of that land which was so solemnly assured to his descendants. So, when his wife died, it was' a necessity to apply to the people of the land for a place of burial. " He stood up from before his dead," says the pathetic narrative, and said, " I am a stranger and sojourner with you; give me a possession of a burying place." They answer, with a deference and courtesy, still characteristic of the East, "Thou art a mighty prince among us; in the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead." Abraham chose for the pur- pose, the cave of Machpelah and offered for it "as much money as it w;as worth." The owner, Ephron, entreated Abra- ham to take'it as a gift, calling witnesses to the fact of his offering the property for nothing. This most generous offer Abraham refused, as he had refused gifts once before, and in- sisted on paving for the field a fair price, which the owner named as "four hundred shekels of silver." This amount of money, then. Abraham weighed out to Ephron. " four hundred shekels of silver, current money with the merchant." Then the 172 Notes on Abraham. i '1 S' cave, and the field, and all the trees therein, and in the borders about it, ' were made sure unto Abraham for a possession in the presence of the children of Heth." And there he buried his dead. The whole of this is strikingly similar to the condition oi things with regard to land prevailing at the present day in our own country. It has already been noticed that human nature subsists to-day substantially as we find it in these narratives of thousands of years ago. But we might scarcely expect to find so close a correspondence in what may be called matters of business. Yet what have we in this narrative First, we have ownership of distinct parcels of land by indi- viduals. It is not a tribal ownership, but personal; and an ownership that was secure; a freehold. And the parcel of land was defined, and bounded, so as to suggest that some surve\- must have been made, lines marked out, and a plan made. Then we have the offer of money for a transfer of right of ownership, and a sale made with the condition of sure pos- session. Further, the money offered was such as was " current with the merchant," a remarkable phrase indeed, in use at the pre- sent day in deeds and documents of title, and in contracts. commercial and financial. Current money, which must have been indicated by the coins called shekels having been stamp- ed or marked in the same way that silver is stamped now to indicate its genuineness, and possibly by the coins themselves being marked as of such and such a weight. But the phrase "current with tlie merchant" indicates that there were, at that early period, regular mercantile dealings and estimation of values in money, as distinguished from dealings by way of barter; which is the first stage of merchandise in all communities. Finally, we have a transfer of ownership, made sure, in the presence of witnesses, exactly as land is conveyed, for due consideration, in money current with merchants, by deeds and acts duly witnessed in this nineteenth century of che Christian era. And that this transaction was respected, and ownership In Abraham and his family recognized, is manifest from the sub- sequent history. Abram himself was buried there by his sons Isaac and Ishmael. And, many long years afterwards, when the chances and changes of life had caried the grandson of Abraham, Jacob, down to a foreign land, he gave a strict charge, in extreme old age, as to his own burial in the very last words he spoke (Gen. xlix., 29, 30, 31) "Jacob charged his sons, and said : ' I am to be gathered unto my people. Bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of Machpelah, in the land of Canaan, which Abraham bought with the field of Ephron the Hittite, for a possession of a burying place.'' "There," he adds, "thev buried Abraham and Sarah his wife; ;:'!■' I1 Notes on Abraham. 173 there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife; and there T buried Leah." This charge was reUgiously observed. ilie remains of the head of the house of Israel were earned bv his sons, with great pomp and ceremony, to the land o Canaan, and deposited in this cave of Machpelah, a cave wh ch has ever since been considered a spot of the highest sanctit), and is still held in veneration by the whole Christian and Mo- hammedan world. v:m W ii 1 t l!^ 'mI [?*' I CHAPTER XX. Isaac. Genesis .?j, 26, 2/. The life of tliii quiet, home-loving and gentle-souletl man derives almost its sole imjjortanee from its connection with his great father on the one hand, and his two sons on the other. To his father he was a son horn out of due time, in fulfil- ment of Divine promise; and the subject of the most fearful tiial of faith and confidence that ever man was subjected to in the history of the human race. Left in possession, as heir, of all his father's property, an arrangement^ that excited no opposition from his famous bro- ther, Ishmael, who could not pretend to dispute the title, and most happily married, he entered on his unobtrusive life as a dweller in tents, possessed of numerous flocks and herds, mainly in the region round about the famous well, " The well of him thatseeth me,"Lahtti Roi. Twenty years of life passed away before children were born. Then his wife Rebekah bore him twin boys, both of whom became remarka1)le men, the elder son, Esau, the progenitor of many tribes who spread them- selves over the great region cast of the Jordan; the younger, Jacob, by far the most remarkable of the two. the true head of that most remarkable race of all the world, which still subsists as a powerful factor in our modern civilization. The descend- ants of Esau have long ceased to be capable of identification ; those of Jacob, though they have wholly lost any national character, can be more easily identified than any other race or nationality in the world. In any given assembly of civilized men (as we know by experience in this country of mixed population) it would be hard to make an accurate separation between the Englishman, the Frenchman, the German, the Italian, the Russian, and any man who attempted it would cer- tainly make mistakes. Rut out of such an assembly it would be easy to pick out the descendants of this Eastern patriarch of four thousand years ago; in comj^arison with whose history, the chronicles of all the rest seem but a story of yesterday. Rut the father of these two sons had no such strong traits of character as distinguished each of them. The only noteworthy incident in his individual life is a sin- gular repetition of what had more than once befallen his father when forced by stress of famine to make his way to a foreign I Isaac. '/3 country. With a wife " very fair to look tipoii," his own life would be in danger. A singular illustration of tlie truth of this has been furnished in our own time in more than one instance. When a famous Englishman, Captain l>aker, went down amongst Mohammedan populations in Africa as an explorer, he took his wife with him. JUit she was always dressed as a man, and passed as his page. Her husband knew the i)e()pU amongst whom he was travelling, and that it was necessary to adopt such a measure for his own and her protection. A similar instance took place with a noted French traveller in the same continent, whose widow is living in Paris still. It is said that having adopted male attire for her husband's ])rotec- tion amongst barbarous races, she has chosen to continue it since returning to civilization. But Isaac manifested the same want of confidence and courage that had been shown by his father. Abraham's failure nuist have become known to his son, who may have excused himself by his father's example So easy it is to follow in the steps of men when they fail; so liable are a good man's failings and defects to be repeated, almost unconsciously, in the ex- perience of other men who follow him. l>ut the greater part of Isaac's life was one of continued ptosperity and increase in wealth " The man waxed great, and went forward, and grew until he became very great; for he had possession of flocks, and possession of herds, and a great store of servants." To which record is added, that his neighbors " envied him," a true touch of human nature as wQ find it amongst men and women even in this age of the Christian era. The stor>' of the w-ells that Abraham's servants had digged, which the Philistines in their jealousy had fillen up, and that Isaac's servants re-opened, and of other wells that they digged including another at the famous Beer-sheba, " the well of the oath," in the extreme south of the pastoral country, close to the borders of the desert, all shows the high importance of the Well in that hilly country, where all streams but the Jordan were, as a rule, dried up in summer, and where a drier season than usual would burn up the grass and might produce famine. These famines, happily almost unknown in more northerly regions, are still amongst the terrible casualties of the seasons in the East. And now, as then, they influence the course of history, and the migrations of families and tribes. The transactions that took place later on in the life of this patriarch, when his two sons were grown to manhood, belong rather to their history than his own. ."^ufflce to say that during his lifetime the great promise of ' Blessing" was renewed in still more enlarged terms. " Sojourn in this land," thus spake the Divine word, "and I will be with thee, and will bless thee; and unto thy seed will I give all these countries; and I will i;6 Isaac perhjrni the oath which I swarc unto Abraham thy father ! Ik'cause that Abraham obeyed my voice, and kept my cliarge. my commanchnents and my laws." And all his life was passed under the beneficent shadow of this blessing. After his sons had grown to manhood, and had both of them done and said that which has become part of the world's his- tory, the life of Isaac moved on in quietness and peace, pre- senting a striking contrast to the stirring lives both of his father and his descendants. He died in extreme old age, at Mamre. Jacob, his son. being with him, and he was buried there by his two sons, Esau and Jacob. CHAPTER XXI. Jacob. Genesis 25 and ^7 to ^.g. The great space given in the Divine record to this remark- able man indicates the extent to which his career has influenced the subsequent history, not only of his natural, but of his spiritual descendants. For, like Abraham, he has had his spiritual descendants, the true Israel, the heirs of spiritual blessings and promises ; first spoken to him, and then extended to all those who, like him, have risen, as Tennyson has sung, " from their dead selves to higher things." Jacoh (or in its Eastern form, YakOUB), meaning a "sup- planter," became, in later days Is-RA-EL, a Prince of God ; not that, in his earlier days he was wholly the crafty, unscru- pulous man of the world he has often been supposed to be, ibr he was not ; but that, at one time in his life, he did one thing, which, as is often the case, gave him a name and a character which was always remembered against him. Yet this action and others resembling it by no means represented the whole man. The course of his life gives the impression of a many-sided man, a man of contradictory elements of character, so contradictory that those whose acquaintance with men is limited, have supposed either that the narrative is not wholly true, or that Jacob was a consum- mate hypocrite. But such contradictions are so far from being uncommon that they are to be found in almost every man of mark, in every sphere of life. The letters and correspondence of the great soldier Moltke, the man so iron-souled, and impassive, that his associates would have concluded there was not a drop of human sympathy in him, reveal a man in private life of exquisite tenderness and sensibility. Who, again, could have imagined that Lord Nelson, the terrible genius of destruction in sea-fights, would have been the man to give public and devout thanks to Almighty God when he had gained great victories ; and still more that he would have left behind him, in the cabin of the " Victory," (found after his death) a touch- ing prayer for success to the arms of England in the conflict impending ; and, especially, for grace to show mercy to the iM|' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4 // t-' // A .^r, %: m. y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 L Jacob. 179 of far-reaching plans of worldly advancement, steadily pur- sued through a long course of years, yet one who saw won- derful visions, and dreamed marvellous dreams, need not excite either surprise or suspicion. It is the part of wisdom to study the characteristics of this man, as opened up in that Divine record which never either " extenuates or sets down aught in malice." The two *win sons of Isaac and Rebecca grew up together, and, as often happens, they were of diametrically opposite characters. " The boys grexv ; and Esau (a name signifying hairy) zvas a CHnning hunter, a man of the field!' There are few families of boys where one is not found like him. These are the s[ ortsmen, the men who love to go afield with rod or gun, who know how to trap and shoot game, large or small ; the men who shoot tigers in India, and lions and elephants in Africa. Bold, hearty, enterprising, restless, they are often true Esaus in being careless of the future ; frank in bearing, and jolly in manner and speech, they are generally universal favorites. Such was Esau, a man, in some respects of better morale, naturally, than his younger brother. Yet, obviously, not the sort of man to be the head of a nation who above all things, were to be entrusted with the task of preserving in the world the knowledge of an unseen God, and a most patient faith in the future destiny of their own race and of mankind. For the recklessness and levity of Esau were as conspicuous as his good nature, and there appears in him no sign of either the fear or the love of God. ^^ Jacob" so reads the record, " zvas a plain man, divclling in tents." But our translation hardly does him justice. The word translated "plain " is the same word that occurs in the Book of Job, where that patriarch is described as upright. The same word is used in the Book of Psalms to describe the man of integrity. Though contrary to much that has been conceived, there is good reason to believe that the basis of Jacob's character was uprightness and integrity ; and that the instances where he plainly departed from it, are those of a good man being tempted and failing in that very feature of character where he was least likely to do wrong. It was exactly so with Abraham, as has been seen. It was so with Moses, with David, with Solomon. And it was .so with Peter, the rock- like and immovable apostle ; bold, daring and resolute, who in a crisis of danger became as timid as a girl. The history of these two men, and especially of the younger of the two, brings out strikingly various developments of f^ i T. 1 1 l« ^ lu 'i vsi \ i \ It!' I ,1 i; ^ i IM 1 80 Jacob. \ > ll II: ! human nature ; showing human life as it is, and was, and probably always will be, holding up a mirror for us to see men and their ways, and the consequences of these ways too. It strikingly illustrates also the operation of Divine grace, and the working of the spirit of God in the heart of man ; it shows also the conflict between good and evil in the same soul, and the prevalence, now of this, now of that, in the actions of the man, until finally the good triumphs. The story illustrates, too, the deep and far-reaching purposes of the Divine government, some of which are hard to understand, and some altogether past finding out. The History opens with an incident which displays an almost incredible levity and folly on the part of the elder brother, and a covetous craftiness on the part of the younger. The New Testament, as its manner is, throws light on this incident. Esau (Hebrews xii, 16, 17) is there styled "a profane person" the word translated profane, meaning a despiser of sacred ^\n^?>,""whOyfor one morsel of meat, sold his birthright^ This birthright carried with it the headship of the family and a double portion of the father's property by inheritance. That a man who had come to years of discretion should throw away all this for the mere sake of a single meal, even though he were in the extremity of hunger, as .hunters like Esau are apt to be (the experiences of the Indians of our own country proves this) shows an extremity of folly which proved him unfit to be entrusted with any measure of responsibility. Such men have come to be heads of families in England under the operation of the law of primogeniture, and have wasted many a valuable inheritance by folly and extravagance, as subsequent inheritors have known to their cost. There are few English counties in which some titled family is not to be found whose members are endeavoring by rigid economy of living to win back an inheritance that had been wasted by the folly of some Esau of the family in a former generation. Spiritually, Esau is a picture of the men who despise the blessings of the future and the unseen for the sake of a little fleeting worldly enjoyment. The Jews, who heard Paul and Barnabas, at Antioch in Pisidia, and contradicted and blas- phemed (Acts xiii, 45, 46), were warned that as they had shown themselves " nmvorthy of everlasting life" the word of salvation would be preached to them no longer. Thousands of men like these have done the same thing, and, indeed, are doing it every day. Esau in mature age showed his indifference to all consider- ations except his own pleasure by marrying, successively, two Jacob. m i8i idolatrous wives, well knowing that this was contrary to the Divine will, and to all the traditions of his race. These women, naturally, brought trouble into the family, and made Rebekah say with bitterness : " / am zveary of my life because of the daughters of Heth ! If Jacob take a zvife such as these daughters of the land ivhat good shall my life be to me ! " But now, returning to this matter of the birthright, the narrative is a very remai'kable one in its terms. Esau comes in from hunting, utterly exhausted, and faint with hunger. Asking his brother for food, the natural answer would have been the offer of it. To any man whatever, being so hungry, surely food would be offered ; how much more to a man's own brother. But food was not offered. On the contrary, the extraordinary proposal was made that the hungry man should sell the brother his birthright. One would conclude this proposal to be a jest ; and possibly it was meant as such, for no man could have thought it possible that such an inher- itance could be offered in exchange for a single meal. But, as we well know, things spoken in jest are sometimes taken in earnest. At any rate, Esau so took it ; and, very probably to his brother's astonishment, he went on to say, most recklessly and foolishly : /am nearly dead ; and zchat is the good of this birtliright. Give me some food and thou shall have the birthright ! Jacob evidently doubted if he was in earnest, and would have the bargain confirmed by an oath, which was given. " Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles ; and he ate and drank and i<.'ent his zaay." Signi- ficantly it is then added : " Thus Esau despised his birtliright !" And, it might have been added, thus did Jacob, a home- loving, industrious man, and for the most part upright and straightforward in his dealings, fall into the snare which always besets men of his temperament, the temptation to be covetous, to take advantage of the folly of another man so as to get valuable things for far less than they are worth. Often,, indeed, it is to their own undoing, for the men who are taken advantage of generally become enemies, and are apt, being such men as Esau was, to take back by force what has been got by sharp practice. There was, indeed, no fraud in this case. It might be called, as the way of the world is, a fair bargain. There was no deception on Jacob's part, no offering of a thing in exchange which was represented falsely, no taking advantage of another man's ignorance. For Esau was not ignorant. Reckless and foolish he was, to the last degree, but he knew perfectly well what he was doing. Yet it is plain that Jacob was wrong. And the wrong was this, and a bitter wrong it was, in not having compassion and kindnesss towards his hungry brother. Yet it is a form of wrong that is not uncommon with men of uprightness and l82 Jacob. f ■ * i , \ ! i CMI ' 1 \ I V,- % i'.tf integrity, viz : a strange insensibility to want and suffering. There are many men whose word is tiieir bond, who yet never stretched a hand to help the needy iti their lives ; nay, who make a sort of principle not to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, on the ground that such benevolences only tend to make men lazy and improvident. This, however, is not the mind of the great Master. As to Jacob, this birthright, so obtained, .seems to have done him little good. There is no sign of its bringing him honor, re.spect or consideration. His father, with whom Esau was a favorite, could not view such a transaction with favor. Yet his favor and respect were an all-important matter. And his brother could never be to him again what a brother should be. A man who has been over-reached can never be a friend. He will complain, and talk hardly, warning others to beware. So, often enough it comes to pass, in this modern world, where transactions like this of Esau and Jacob are by no means unknown, that the man who has over-reached another has over-reached himself He becomes generally distrusted, loses friends, connections and credit, and finally is stranded. Many years seem to have elapsed between this transaction and the next, during which the course of the lives of the two men went on as before. But in Isaac's old age another thing was done, which has never been forgotten, and in which there were far darker features than the other, viz : The Deceit as to the Blessing. The prime mover in this disreputable business was not Jacob, but his mother ; a foolish woman, with all her good qualities. And the narrative is a terrible warning to mothers against letting their partialities and favoritisms with their sons become so dominant as to blind them to considerations of what is honorable and just. Not much, it is evident, had c^.me, so far, of the acquisition of the Birthright. Nor was it likely to have come, under the circumstances. But now, an opportunity arose, in the view of this short-sighted mother, of settling finally the matter of her favorite son's pre-eminence. And she contrived a little plot, a deceitful artifice of a kind very characteristic of per- sons who have an end to accomplish, and are neither scrupulous about the means, nor considerate of the conse- quences. Such things have been done again and again in various spheres of life. ^m *; •!. Jacob. 183 Men have sought to circumvent their fellows in the strife of politics and business ; women in the sphere of social life ; but it is a'ways with the same result. The plot may temporarily succf.ed. If well contrived and carried out, it will almost certainly succeed. But the man who over- reaches another, as has been said, always over-reaches himself The temporary success always brings about what followed in this case of Esau, viz : a bitter sense on the part of the per- son injured of having been wronged, and a deiermination to be avenged, to " get even " with the wrong-doer, as the modern phrase is. When the end to be attained seems to be a praiseworthy one, as, for example, in the sphere of politics, the attainment of some important object for one's conntry, or the prevention of some great evil, a statesman may be tempted, and often has been, to attain it by low and unworthy means, by deceit, concealment, misrepresentation or other improper influences. But the result is always the same. The required majority does not remain faithful. The measure is found unworkable. The opposition gathers strength, and it is repealed, after years of heart-burning and disquiet. So this plot of Rebekah only brought disaster and confu- sion to herself, and trouble to her family. The deceit she proposed should have been rejected by Jacob at once. But again we have the picture of a man, generally good, falling into a " horrible pit" and getting his feet entangled " in miry day!' His consent was somewhat reluctant. He saw the danger and warned his mother of it. But evil, once admitted, infatu- ates and blinds. Her love and partiality for him rises to a passionate defiance of results. "If there is a curse, instead of a blessing, on me be the curse, my son ! " For love, how many have broken the laws of God and man, and have brought darkness and curses upon their lives and those of their loved ones. A strange chapter in human his- tory is this of the follies of affection ; the turning of the choicest treasure of the human heart — love — into the means of the most dismal downfall of which human nature is capable. Let us notice the rapid development of evil. There is first the consent of Jacob to the fraud. Then the repeated lie. In verse 19, "/ am Esau thy first- born !" Then, Inverse 24. — "The Lord enab/ed?ne." Horrible profanity ! Then, In verse 24. — The solemn assertion when challenged, "/am indeed thy son Esau ! " It is a sad and sickening picture, indeed ! a terrible example of evil coming into a man's soul like a flood, and bearing 1 84 Jacob. rapidly away all restraint of honor, conscience, and the fear of God. And now follows the bestowment of the solemn blessing by the aged father, which, let it be noted, is purely a temporal one. " God give thee of the dew of heaven^ the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine. Let people serve thee. Be lord over thy brethren. Cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be every one that blesseth thee." Wealth, honor, power, the three things the human heart always craves for, everywhere, at all times, amongst all peoples, in all circumstances ; these are what have now been nominally bestowed upon Jacob. His mother and he should surely be satisfied. But now, as it is always, they experience the deceitfulness of the lures and promises held out by the great Deceiver. They have got what they schemed for, apparently. But have they ? They have no more got it than our common mother, Eve, obtained what the great Deceiver promised her at the begin- ning. There is no evidence that Jacob ever obtained the pre- eminence over his br-»ther, or the double share of the family property, or the headship of the house. On the contrary, the mother and the son immediately realized the consequences of what they had done in the outbreak of wrath on the part of Esau, and his expressed determination to slay the brother who had so grievously wronged him. In that case, what would become of the blessing ! For the cheat was discovered immediately ; it could not but be discovered. Then comes the bitter outcry of Esau» who heard that the blessing could not be recalled ; the cry of an impulsive and passionate man, who has bartered away in folly one great part of his inheritance, and realizes all the more the terrible position he would be in if he lost the remain- der. Such a cry could not but be heard. The father pronounces also a blessing on him ; a prophetic blessing,, far-reaching, and looking on to his posterity. He also should have temporal prosperity ; but his lot should be as different from his brother's as their characters were diverse. " By thy stvord shalt thou live, and thou shalt serve thy brother. And it shall come to pass zvhen thou shalt have the dominion that thou shalt break his yoke from off thy neck." The first and the last of this prophecy were certainly ful- filled in the lifetime of the brothers. There is no record, however, of Esau's ever being subject to his brother, and in that respect, as well as in the other, the object to be attained by this wicked and foolish plot was never accomplished. Jacob. 185 As a prophecy, however, reaching into far distant ages, it was in substance fulfilled in their descendants. The consequences that followed the shameful fraud of which the mother and son had been guilty must be considered in another chapter. Meanwhile the lessons it conveys lie on the very surface, viz : to mothers, to beware how they allow par- tiality to a son or daughter to rise to a passion and lead to deeds of injustice and folly ; and to men living in the world to beware of listening, even for a moment, to dishonorable proposals, lest the listening should open the door for evil to enter in like a flood, sweeping away truth and honor, and causing them to do that which will be remembered against them after a whole lifetime of good actions is forgotten. lif'' 13 f in I Hi, I i ■SMW CHAPTER XXII. jACOii's Vision at Hetiikl. Genesis 28. It has seemed strange that after such a disreputable course of conduct as Jacob was guilty of in connection with his father's blessing, there should have been manifested to him such a wonderful vision as that of the angels' ladder, and such wonderful promises of blessing from the Supreme God. We would rather have expected some outburst of wrath on the part of the Almighty Judge, some cutting off of Jacob alto- gether from the Divine favor. But the ways of God are not always our ways. He speaks, at times, truly, by prophets and messengers, but at other times, yet no less forcibly, by the course of events. Let us mark the sequel of events in this case. First, with regard to the mother, the prime mover in the wrong. Rebekah had only two sons. By what she had done she had utterly estranged Esau, who was no longer to her as a son. How could he be? And, now that Esau had threat- ened to take Jacob's life, it was no longer safe for her favorite son to remain. She called him, and advised him to fly. But the fond mother hoped it was only for a .short time. " Tarry for a fezv days ivith my brother Laban, in Haran, until thy brother' s fury turn away, am/ he forget xvhat thou hast done to him. Then zvill I send and fetch thee thence^ Then the heart cf the mother breaks out in the e.xclamation, " Why should I be deprived also of you both in one day I" A foreboding of what was coming, of the perpetual separation which she dreaded, lurks in this pathetic exclamation. She was a woman of tender affection ; loving her husband, loving her home, loving both her children ; one of them, indeed, not wisely, but too well. And she fondly hoped the brothers would become reconciled and the family be reunited again. But there is no record of Rebekah ever seeing her son Jacob again, and the course of the narrative would indicate that there had come about a permanent alienation between herself and Esau. So speedily did retribution overtake her for the deceit she had instigated, a retribution which exactly corresponded to Jacob's Vision at Bethel. 187 her offence. Her love to Jacob led her to commit the wrong. Retribution overtook her in the shape of perpetual separation from him who had always lived at home, but was now com- pelled to fly for his life to a distant country, from whence he was never to return in her lifetime. Jacob himself, the home-loving man, was practically ban- ished from home, compelled to go out as a fugitive and a wanderer, to undertake a long and dangerous journey ; all which came home to him with bitterness as a consequence of the grievous sin he had committed against God, and the wrong he had done to his brother. The time of his setting out was referred to by himself afterwards as a " day 0/ distress." And, evidently, it was a time of humiliation and prayer. In chap- ter XXXV, verse 3, he speaks of God having ansivered him in this bitter day. The passage, like so many brief and inci- dental passages of Scripture, furnishes a key to what follows. For it is incredible, and contrary to the whole Divine proce- dure that such blessings and promises could have been given to a man of mere craft and covetousness, going away in hard- ness of soul, callous and indifferent to what he had done. There was everything in the circumstances to bring about an entirely opposite state of feeling. He had fallen into dis- grace, he had endangered his life, he must leave the home where his whole life had been spent. And he went out, a solitary man. No escort accompanies him, no train of camels as when Abraham sent to seek a wife for Isaac, no attendants, no presents for his friends, nothing has he but a staff and a wallet, and he carries his life in his hand at every step of the way, for he must have had money enough with him to carry him to the end of his journey, and so have been worth plun- dering. All this was calculated to bring about a revulsion of feeling like that which swept over King David's soul when his hor- rible sin was pointed out to him by the prophet. So as he sets out, and loses sight behind the hilN of the encampment of his father and the tent of his mother, pursuing his way northward in poverty and solitude, what could come over him but distress and anguish of spirit, remorse and bitterness of soul, leading to earnest cries for Divine mercy and protection. This was the " day of distress " that he remembered so well twenty years afterwards, and the answer to his cry came, as it is sure to come to them who " ca// upon God in the day of trouble." About the end of the second day of his journey he arrives at the place where Abram, his grandfather, many years before, had built an altar. There, on the solitary hillside, for he dare not go into the neighboring town, he arranges to pass the m m '■^^ WW BP' l.iJ. UJ ' J b .gl ' ^J I i.lJt.J.JL ill 'f m^ 1 li- 1 ll w 1 1 ! • 1 88 Jacob's Vision at Bethel. night in the open air : not a very safe proceeding, for there were wild beasts about that region, roaming up through the hills from their haunts in the valley of Jordan. It was, and is, a rocky region. Choosing some quiet nook where he would be least likely to be disturbed, he arranges the .stones of the place for his pillows and lays down to sleep, weary with his journey, but much more heart-sick at the miserable folly he had been guilty of and the dangers of the way he was travelling. But he slept. Then, in a wonderful dream, came God's answer to his cry of distress, an ansv/er that wonderfully fitted his circum- stances. He dreamed and saw a stairway, reaching from earth to heaven, and the messengers of God ascending and descending on it ! Ah ! a way from earth to heaven, even for such a one as he ! And God's messengers, ministering spirits, executing His will on the earth, guarding, guiding, preserving them that trusted in Him. And had not an angel accompanied him, all unseen, thus far ! The angels were a.scending, — were they conveying home the souls of the faith- ful departed, as was revealed long afterwards, the angels carrying Lazarus to Abraham's bosom ! And were not some descending, — bearing Divine m.essages and commands, — a wonderful vision indeed ! And surely the heart of the lonely wanderer must have been stirred to cry out, " Oh, that one of these might attend on me on my journey ! " But much more than this. Raising his eyes upward, he was made conscious of the presence of Almighty God Himself, not sitting on a throne, but standing, — standing in the attitude of one who was ready to help. And the words then spoken, brief as they are, have been instinct with power, to all generations since, and are as truly applicable to the circumstances of men in this our own busy day and age, as they were to the lonely and dispirited wan- derer on the hills of the land of Canaan. The first words were a confirmation to Jacob of the original promise spoken to his grandfather Abraham, and repeated to his father Isaac, of an inheritance in the land whereon he slept, and that his descendants should spread abroad to the west, the east, the north and the south, becoming a blessing to all the families of the earth. This promise of spreading abroad is an enlargement of anything previously spoken, and its full meaning was only realized spiritually when the true Israel, the faithful souls who accepted and followed the Divine son of Jacob in after ages, were given the great commission, and fulfilled it, of going into all nations, and spreading abroad over the whole earth the good tidings by which all the fami- lies of the earth were to be blessed. Jacob's Vision at Bethel. 189 But now, being thus assured of his inheritance in the ancestral blessing, further words were spoken to him specially applicable to his own circumstances and the pressing need of the hour. He was alone, and without attendants and protectors. How perfectly suitable to his circumstances was the assur- ance from the All-Powerful Supreme, " Behold, I AM WITH THEE ! " "I am with thee ;" surely that counts more than any number of an escort ! " If God be for us, zvho can be against us?" Frederick the Great, in a difficult position, calling a council of war, found his generals very despondent on counting up their small numbers as compared with the host of the enc ^v. The king, drawing himself to his full height, looked round the council table, and exclaimed, " And how many do you count Me!" Just so. The Duke of Wellington once said that he considered the presence of Napoleon with his army as good as forty thousand additional men. So it was once well said that one man with God on his side was in the majority, no matter how many might be against him. But the Divine word went further. The young man was going to strange places, to unknown regions ; he might easily lose his way, be captured by a hostile tribe, sold for a slave, as his own son was in after years, or perish with hunger or thirst before arriving at the end of so long a journey. Again we must notice the perfect fitness of the Divine promise, " and I zvill keep thee in all places whither thou goest." The Divine presence would be the presence of ^. guard. This is the true idea intended to be conveyed. No armed host could make his journey more safe. But further still. The young man purposed to return. His visit was intended to be short. Yet it could not but be doubtful as to whether he would ever return or not. The Almighty IVotector then adds the promise, " / tvill bring thee again to this land, and I xvill 7iot leave thee until I have done that zi'hich I have spoken to thee of." All these are wonderful words. Considering the time, the circumstances, the person, and all that was involved in them, they are a wonderful manifestation of Divine goodness and wisdom. And the power of these words has never been lost. They speak as truly, and with as much appositeness and force, to the young men of these times as they did to Jacob. This is an age of dispersion. Men are obeying, as they never did before, the Divine command to replenish the earth, and to subdue it. Young men, in multitudes, have left the paternal roof, to travel far abroad, to the very ends of the earth, to ^t i!:| IQO Jacob's Vision at Bethel. 1! :M t< .,4 s KM lii; i^*;- strange and unknown countries, often encountering danger of precisely the same kind as that which surrounded Jacob. And it has already been told, in these pages, how to one such, with a long travel before him by land and sea to utterly unknown regions, when considering in despondency the pros- pect before him, these words came as an inspiration : "Ami beheld I am xvith thee, ami zvill keep thee in all places ivhither ihou goest, and will bring thee again to this land, for I ivill not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of." Well might Jacob, when awakened out of sleep, be struck with awe and solemnity, and a strange sense of the presence and power of Almighty God. " Surely," he said, ''the Lord is in this place ! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of Heaven ! " And rising in the morning early, he consecrated the place, setting up the stones on which he lay for a pillar, pouring oil upon it, and giving it a new name, Beth-AEL, the House of God, a name it has borne ever since, and by which it is known to this day. And now occurs a passage which skeptics and deriders of sacred things make mock of even to this day. It represents, say they, a miserable mercenary bargain between this man and his Creator ; so much service on the one hand, so much protection on the other. But this is not the uue idea of the passage, and it does not represent the thought of the man. The revised version of the Scriptures gives, in the margin, what is doubtless the true intent of the man's heart. He was filled with the thought of the Divine protection and blessing which had been vouch- .safed to him, conveying, as these did, the assurance of Divine forgiveness for the wrong he had done. His soul was lifted up into a far higher plane of spiritual thought than he had ever known before, and it was while filled with such thoughts that he uttered a vow of consecration ; not coldly making -^ bargain, but in solemnity, awe and thankfulness, reciting, to stir up his spirit, the wonderful things God had promised to do. " If, then, it be so, what a solemn obligation rests on me to consecrate my whole life to my Preserver, my Benefactor, my all-powerful Heavenly Friend, whose messengers I have seen going up to heaven and returning from it. And so it shall be. The Lord shall be my God, in deed and in truth ; in token whereof I set up this stone as His House, and of all He shall give me I will surely render the tenth to Him." This was the portion already, at this early period, designated as I .l. Jacob's Life at Haran. 191 And that which should be set apart as appertaining to God. this Jacob solemnly vows to fulfil. The whole tone of the passage forbids the idea of a spirit of cold, mercenary bargaining. It breathes the same spirit of solemnity, thankfulness and humility afterwards expressed by one of the greatest of his descendants when he sang : " What shall I render to the Lo.-d for all His benefits toivard me ? I xvill take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord." And in this spirit the lonely traveller resumes his journey, a journey of some hundreds of miles, crosses the Jordaii with his staff in his hand at the place where he recrosscd a wealthy and prosperous man, some twenty years afterwards, and pur- suing his way, day by d y, for nearly a month, arrived at length in Haran, the homo of his ancestors. So far, then, the Divine word had been fulfilled. Jacoh's Life at Hakan. What reception he would meet with on arriving at the set- tlement of his uncle Laban must have been a matter of anxiety as he approached it. He came as a wanderer and a fugitive, in absolute poverty, and might be, for aught his rela- tives knew, no desirable addition to their household. A wonderful contrast was this to the arrival, in great state of camels, servants and presents, of the steward of his grand- father some fifty years or more before. Wwi the story of his reception is almost as beautiful as that of the steward when he halted at the well and met Rebekah. Jacob came near to what he supposed to be the neighbor- hood of Laban, and encountered a company of men gathered about a great well, watering sheep. " My brethren" said he, " ivhence he ye ? " They replied in a friendly tone, " Of Haran are tcv." He was, then, in the neighborhood he was seeking. " Do you knotii" he continued, ''Laban, the son of Xahor?" They replied, somewhat cautiously, " Yes, iient on his way" says the narrative, ''and the angels of God met him. And zvhen Jacob saiv them he said, this is the army of God ! " This is God's host. The Angels ; not one, but many. Was it those he saw in the dream at Bethel ? Were they come to encamp beside him as a guard ? for they were encamped as a martial host. Let us consider the position of this man. He was return- ing with his bands, stretched over the mour.lainous plains of Gilead, slowly travelling by day and by night towards the land of Canaan, defenceless and peculiarly liable to the attack of the roving bands of that region. Probablv when al' was quiet, in the stillness of the night, walking out, and thinking of all that had befallen him since he crossed those mountains twenty years ago, this wonderful vision of another encamp- ment around his own, another company of tents, met his gaze. And who can these be ? In a moment he saw that they were no mortal visitants. These are no tents of wandering Ishma- elites. This is the host of God! This idea of armies and camps as attendants and ministers of the Almighty Sovereign became a common one in after ages. " The Lord of Hosts is with -us," said his descendant the Psalmist, and, possibly thinking of this very incident, he adds, " the God of Jacob is our refuge ! " Strikingly like this incident is that related of God's prophet Elisha, in an evil time (2 Kings vi), when his eyes were opened, " and lo ! the mountain zi'as full of horses and chariots of fire all round about Jiimr No wonder that Jacob called the name of this place of vision Maha-Naim, or Tivo Camps. His own encampment, one : the camp of the Lord's Host another. And this was the name it bore when Jacob's descendants possessed the land, four hundred years afterwards. By this time Jacob has entered the territory ruled by his brother, and, with characteristic prudence, he sends messengers to Esau. It was a somewhat indefinite message they carried. Jacob's Return and Nig/it of Wrestling. 197 but it meant, doubtless : " I am now rich, and have the means of repairing wrong. What ransom shall I pay ? On what terms shall we meet, and what wilt thou exact for my passage through thy territory ? " Jacob must have waited some days before the messengers returned, but when they did return, they brought terrible tidings. Esau sent no answer whatever. Not a word had he to say. But he was coming to meet Jacob with an armed band — a company of four hundred men — sufficient to sweep Jacob and all he had from the face of the earth. The prophecy had been uttered long before, " by thy sivord shalt thou live" and to all appearance the word was to have a terrible fulfilment now. And now comes another incident of the life of this man that has stamped itself ineffaceably on the spiritual life of all the believers in the Supreme God throughout the world, viz., the strange night of wrestling. Jacob, greatly afraid and distressed, fearful of this band, who were not likely to spare but to " smite the mother with the children" first makes the most prudent division of his company for safety he can think of, by dividing them into two bands. Then he betakes himself to prayer. This was another " day of distress" and far more serious than the one of twenty years before, for then he was alone, and calamity would involve only himself. Now he had many beside himself — wives, children, attendants, servants — all of whose lives might be sacrificed. Not to speak of the loss of all his earthly possessions, he could not but be distressed beyond measure at the prospect before him. And there was this bitterest of ingredients in this bitter cup, that all had come about by his own wrong doing. His prayer is noteworthy, indeed. He pleads the covenants of God with his fathers. He pleads the command of God that he should return. Then, in most touching language, he bows in humility and acknowledges unworthiness : " / am not tvorthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth, zvhich thou hast shelved unto thy servant, for ivith my staff I passed over this Jordan, and noiu I am become two bands" There is in this no direct confession and acknowledment of wrong doing. Doubtless that confession and acknowledgment had been fully made long before and the assurance of forgive- ness received. But in this, " / am not ivorthy of the least of thy mercies" — language of which the echoes are found long afterwards in the epistles of St. Paul, and in the liturgies and offices of the Christian Church ; in this we have the out- i 198 Jacob's Return and Night of Wrestling. \ lu w*y . !«« w mi. Ik ' ■ T !■ i; \\ M-' pouring of a most humble and penitent soul. And then comes the pathetic crj', " Deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau ; for I fear him, lest he xvill come and smite me, and the mother ivith the children." In all this there breathes the profound feeling that he has only too well deserved such a terrible retribution. And in this, too, we have another evidence of the co-existence in this man's character, along with a keen and far-seeing outlook for money and wordly goods, of most tender home affections, of deep sensibility, and a profound underlying sense of the power and goodness and overshadowing presence of the Supreme God. It is necessary to note this depth and agony of fear and apprehensive feeling in order to understand, in any measure, the wonderful event of that night. His dispositions for protection, and for obtaining the favor of his brother, were prudently made, and are an eminent example of that wise use of means which prayer and reliance on Divine help, by no means, render needless. And now we have an answer to his prayer in a manner that is one of the most interesting and mysterious occurrences related in the Divine Word. He seems, during the day, to have crossed over the brook Jabbok, which flows down to the Jordan through one of the deep depressions of that region ; but, becoming restless in the night, he rose up, woke the sleeping encampment, and caused them to re-cross the ford, apparently thinking they would be safer there. This being done, he passed over to the side from whence the dreaded troop of his brother was approaching. And now the narrative proceeds : — " And Jacob was left alone : *' And there wrestled a man zvith him until the breaking of the day." This mysterious event was, doubtless, a Divinely-sent dream, so vivid as to have all the impression of reality, the mind fully awake, the body utterly worn out with toil and excitement. Mentally and spiritually, it was a reality. Looking carefully at the circumstances, there is nothing so rea.sonable as the supposition that he thought it was his brother Esau who was encountering him, stopping the way, striving, opposing, struggling to overthrow him. There wrestled a man with him (not Jacob with the man.) All through the long night, in violent conflict, Jacob's soul is wrought to the highest pitch of excitement, and strength almost supernatural, like that of a drowning man, his antagonist struggling to overthrow, he holding on in defence with the tenacity of desperation as he thought of his wives i Jacob's Return and Night of Wrextling. 199 and his children. This went on hour after hour, until all in a moment the vision changes, and he becomes conscious, by a single touch, that it is no mortal man, no Esau, that is before him, but the very Angel of the Covenant who had appeared to Abraham, to his father Isaac and to himself And now is produced an intensity of longing that is indescribable. "Z^Y inc go" says the Heavenly visitant, trying his faith. To which Jacob replies crj/ing out in an agony, knowing whom he is addressing, determining with the boldness of despair rather to die than be disappointed, " / tvill not let thee go except thou bless me .'" For he was now helpless. He had been rendered, by a touch, utterly unable to wrestle. But he could still cling and hold on. And then, crying and clinging, and holding on in the very intensity and agony of supplication for an assurance of blessing, he obtains it ! P'or now, for the first time, the Divine visitant speaks, and the word spoken is one that recalls the past. What is thy name ? asks this all-powerful opponent. And he said, Jacob. Jacob ! the supplanter, the deceiver, the man who has wronged his brother. Jacob, the supplanter ! Yes, I must confess it ; I am, indeed, that wretched and sinful man. I deserve to perish, but if I perish, I perish at thy feet ! Thus, long generations afterwards, pleaded another of his descendants, the beautiful and patriotic Queen Esther, before the Persian . King, Ahasuerus. And as she obtained the desired boon, so did this man. The question was, doubtless, intended to bring out, at such a moment, all this train of penitential thought, and was antecedent to the bestowmcnt of the blessing. Jacob had risen to the very height of heroic faith and perseverance. As said the prophet Hosea, referring to this very circumstance in after times, " He wept, he made supplication ; yea, he had power over the angel, and pre- vailed." The answer came in a way that has been remembered in all subsequent generations, viz., in a change of name. " Tliy name shall be called no more Jacob, but ISRAEL (the word signifying PRINCE OF GoD) ; for as a Prince /last thou pozuer zvith God, and zvith men, and hast prevailed ! The names here clearly symbolize character. For, as a mere appellative, the name Jacob did appertain afterwards to him ; and he was only occasionally called Israel. But the character of supplanter disappears. Ever after this, the man appears as a holy, devout, just, and good man, chastened by affliction and purified by fire, with none of the earthly alloy that characterized him in so marked a degree before. A wonderful blessing, indeed. Far beyond the blessing of wealth and health and lands and earthly dominion. And i 200 Jacob's Return and Night of Wrestling. now, this agony over, and assurance of Divine favor given, the man is emboldened to ask the name of the Heavenly Visitant. But he received only the answer, Why ask my name? — a question which implies that Jacob should surely know. What could his name be, but the All-Povverful, the Supreme,, the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, the God of Bethel, the God of promise and of blessing ! The vision was now ended. The day was breaking. The night was gone ; not simply the night of this earthly scene, but the night of the soul. The morning was dawning, and it was the morning of a new and better life. Filled with such solemn thoughts, the awe-struck man calls the name of the place Peniel, The Face of God ! for I have seen, he says, God, face to face, and my life is preserved ! The place of the first vision he called Beth-El, the House of God. This is Peni-El, the Face of God. And, as he crossed over again towards his company, the sun rose upon him. Significant is the phrase, the sun rose upon him. The darkness was past, and the true light now shone, the shining of the sun of righteousness with healing in his wings. Yet he halted on his thigh. By some mysterious physical touch his very bodily frame had felt the effect of this night of conflict, and it is probable that he carried it with him to his grave. ■?ii Ml:'; it And now, the morning being fully come, Jacob lifts up his eyes ; and behold ! Esau with his company of four hundred spearmen is before him. Esau, on setting out, must have had hostile intentions towards his brother ; otherwise he never would have brought such a large band as this. For his own protection, twenty would have been surely sufificient ; as such a number would be for a traveller in the same region to-day. But to bring four hundred ! Certainly this betokened an attack ; a falling upon the band, as the Chaldeans and Sabeans did upon the sons of Job, the killing of the men, the carrying away of women and children captive, and the driving off to his own country of the herds of camels, cattle and sheep. But the Divine Being who had visited Jacob and assured him of blessing, had the hearts of all men in his hand, and turned the heart of Esau toward his brother again. By the time that they met, all hostile thoughts had passed away. They met in peace. The account of the meeting is inexpres- sibly touching. Jacob went on before his wives and children, making obeisance in Eastern fashion, bowing seven times until he carr»e near his brother. But Esau " rati to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck, and kissed Jacob's Return ami Xight of Wrestling. 201 him!' Fell on his neck and kissed him ! A wonderful encounter, indeed. Where, then, are all the armed men, and where the visions of these men, with Ksau at their head, smiting the mother ivith the children ? Surely the revulsion of feeling to Jacob was as great as when he first found him- self, a poor and friendless fugitive, welcomed to the home of his ancestors in Haran. Nay, far greater. For the armed men were around him, evidence of hostility and power. But the enmity was taken away, and the man whom he expected to " smite the mother with the children," falls on his neck and kisses him, the very words being the same as those used by our Lord when describing the affection of the father when receiving home his long-lost prodigal son. Is it any wonder that they both wept. In these tears was washed away the enmity of twenty years on the part of Esau and of years of remorse on the part of Jacob. And now the generous-souled elder brother, — one cannot help being drawn to him, — refuses the large presents sent by the younger, saying : "/have enough, my brother; keep that thou hast unto thyself." Hut Jacob entreated him with touch- ing grace, saying : '' I have seen thy face, as though I had seen the face of God ! . . Take, I pray thee, my blessing. For God hath dealt graciously with me, and I have all I need." And he urged him, and he took it. If any person imagines these times as days of barbarism, let him read the story of this meeting between Esau and Jacob, of that also between Abraham and the men who owned the land he bought for a tomb ; as well as the journey of Abraham's servant to the land of his fathers ; and say whe- ther it would be possible to find more beautiful examples of courtesy, hospitality, and true refinement of feeling, in any age, or any country, even in those most highly distinguished by civilization, down even to our own day. Like a true and courteous knight of the middle ages, Esau now offered to march with his band at the head of Jacob's company. / xoill go before thee, he says, obviously for protection. But Jacob felt instinctively the unsuitableness of so large an escort as this, or even of any company of spearmen at all. For he was now close to the border of the land of Canaan, and considered that his own company was sufficient for all the purposes of safety and defence. So the offer was declined with all possible courtesy, and the brothers parted in peace. The enmit\' of twenty years was healed with a Divine healing, and Jacob from that time forward was a stronger man, spiritually, than he had ever before been, and with nothing he said or did in his subsequent life could any serious fault be found. 14 CHAI'TKR \XIV. 'I I E 1* * I' i I) If M t J OS K I'll. Genesis ^J,JQ. After parting with his brother Ksau, Jacob passed over and settled, with his family, once more in the land of Canaan. There he remained, movin.eak peaceably to him." The Divinely sent dreams, in which his future greatness was so clearly foreshadowed, only increased their dislike and jealousy. These dreams were the first monitions of the extraordinary events that followed, events in which the Divine hand can almost be seen in its marvellous working ; bringing light out of darkness, trying the faith of his servant to the very utter- most before taking off the pressure which is to develop strong t 'I! 206 Joseph. character, and overruling the working of the powers of dark- ness so as to make them accomplish his will. Again and again in the history we perceive how man's extremity becomes God's opportunity. It was when Joseph was abandoned to perish in the dried-up well that the events began which led to his giory in Egypt. It was when Jacob's descendants were on the point of utter extinction by the policy of a designing despot that the day of deliverance from Egyptian bondage dawned, and they became a nation. The jealousy and dislike of the brothers increased to such a degree that, on his being sent to see after their welfare by Jacob, they formed the murderous purpose of getting rid of him. Which of them was the leader in this nefarious plot does not appear from the narrative, but it was probably not Judah, whose conduct, scandalous and reprehensible enough in other matters, becomes commendable to a degree in these dealings with Joseph. But the first purpose is to slay the lad outright, cast his dead body into a pit, and take his many- colored coat, smeared with blood, to deceive the father. A deadly purpose, stirred up by that old first liar and murderer, who prompted the first-born son of the human race to mur- der an innocent brother. But the elder son, Reuben, inter- vened, — intervened with some force and authority : " delivered the lad out of their hands" and said, " Let us not kill him. Shed no blood. Cast him into this pit in the xvilderness" doing this with the honorable purpose of delivering him when the rest had passed on their way. The party were in the region north of Shechem, near the great route from Mesopotamia to Egypt. Here, naturally, at intervals, wells or cisterns had been dug for refreshment of caravans, some of which, in a hot season, would become dry. Into one of those the lad was cast, crying out in anguish of soul, and beseeching them to spare him so dreadful a death as slow starvation. This we learn from the troubled colloquy of the brothers when they once more faced him as Lord of Egypt. The utter hardness of heart and abandoned wickedness of the men is shown by the story that after doing this ''they sat doicn to eat bread" as if nothing had happened. And now another step in the way of God's providence is to be noted. While these brothers^ resting and feasting at this spot, a company of merchants, sons of Ishmael, came along with their camels and their merchandise, the product of the country, on the way to Egypt. Had they passed an hour or two before, or an hour or two after, humanly speaking, the whole course of history might have been different. Why did they begin their journey at the exact hour they did, and why proceed at the exact pace they did ? Had something detained them on setting out, or had something accelerated Joseph. 207 their journey on proceeding, the brothers of Joseph would have left the place without seeing them. Then Joseph would never have been sold into Egypt, never have risen to greatness, they and their father would never have gone down also ; there would have been no settlement in the land of Goschen, no bondage and no deliverance by a Mighty Hand. But there was One, whose eye is ever running abroad to and fro npon the earth, working all things according to the counsel of His ozvn will ; He so ordered events that the caravan from Gilead .should pass at that precise hour. This gave the opportunity to Judah, who, solely amongst the men there, for Reuben was not then with them, had retained some spark of natural affection. " Coviel' said he, " What profit is it if we slay our brother and conceal his blood? Let us sell him to the hmaelites" and he added, " He is our brother and our flesh Surely, one might have supposed this would have moved them not to sell him at all, but to take him out of the pit and let him return to his father. Human nature, however, is strangely constituted. So far they could go, in the way of virtue and brotherly feeling. But the forces of jealousy and envy were bitterly strong within them. They could not forgive him his dreams. They were determined that these dreams should not be fulfilled by their coming under subjectioii. to him. If he was not to die, which would be the most effectual way of preventing it, he should be sold for a slave and carried off to Egypt. They would then see him no more, and then what would become of his dreams ! So they thought, and so they purposed. But "He that sitteth in the heavens" laughed at them. The Ishmaelites were willing enough to buy, for it was in the way of their business. The persistence of the type is extraordinary. Their descendants are trading in slaves at this very day. The bargain was made. Twenty pieces of silver was the price. The poor lad was drawn out of the pit and his life saved. But a dismal lot was before him ; for he, the favorite son of a powerful and wealthy chief, and already distinguished in the family, was suddenly torn from his lather and his home and cast down to the position of a slave. So, with this caravan, he slowly makes his way, doubtless in con- finement to prevent his escape, and on foot, weary and footsore, down to the borders of Canaan, probably passing near his father's encampment, but unable to make his condi- tion known : then across the desert until he reaches the country where in so wonderful a way his dreams are all to come true. As to the brothers, they added to their evil deeds the sins of lying and scandalous hypocrisy. The many colored coat M, 2o8 Joseph. was dipped in the blood of a kid of the goatsj!^xo\x^\. to the father with the lying message, "■tliis have tee found, knoiv noiv Zi'hether it be thy son's coat or no." The tone of the message is hard and cruel. The deed they had done had given them up to the power of the devil for the time, and they spoke without a particle of brotherly affection, even of such a thing as their brother's violent death. But the poor father was heart-broken. He *'rent his clothes in anguish,///^ sackcloth on his loins and mourned for his son many days. The lying villains who had wrought this mis- chief pretended to sympathise with his grief They rose up to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted, saying, I will go doivn to the grate unto my son mourning !" In this gross and wicked deception j)racticed on him by his sons can we not see the retribution for deception he as a son had practiced on his father long j-ears before. Surely the heathen saying is the product of a true instinct and experience of the course of human affairs, " the mills of the gods grind slow, but they grind fine." And revelation confirms experience, that even when wrong-doing has been repented of and for- given, when its spiritual penalties have been removed and the wrong-doer is restored to divine favor, there are temporal consequences which follow inevitably, by the laws which Providence has stamped upon the constitution of man. The divine government indeed is many-sided. The aspect of the Supreme Ruler, like that of a human governor, is different in its operations as the circumstances of men are different. The Divine Being is revealed " as a father pitying his children," he is also revealed as one who will '''bend his boz^.' and whet his sword, and shoot out his arrows against the wicked" The same Supreme Governor whose administration is founded on immutable justice, righteousness and judgment being the foun- dation of his throne, and who will by no means clear the guilty is also lie who pardoneth iniquity, tran.sgression and sin ; nay, who sent His own Son into the world to establish an all- enduring and orderly system of righteous ab.solution by the offering of His own body upon the cross. All these are the different modes of operation of one and the same Divine Ruler and Father, according as the aspects and circumstances of men in relation to himself differ. To the hard-hearted and froward He is simply the e.vecutor of the wrath pro- nounced against the evil doer. To the penitent and trusting soul Me is gracious and full of compassion. Yet, even to them who have forsaken evil ways. He interferes not with those natural laws by which evil ways leave evil conse- quences behind them. The drunkard and licentious, though repentant and forgiven, carry the con.sequences of sin with them in the trembling hand, in feebleness of eye, and in il \ I- Joseph. 209 premature old age. So it is in the complex workings of divine government and grace, and so it evidently must be, for that they should be so is right. 'T ■ - Critical Note. It is worthy of note that the Hebrew word translated " grave," used by Jacob in his heart-broken lamentation for Joseph, is properly a word generally signifying the " unseen world," or " the abode of the departed." The word is Sheol, and corresponds to the Greek word Hades of the New Testament, which has exactly the same signification. The Hebrew word of the Old Testament, alike with that of the New, clearly implies life after death, and thus contradicts a theory that some have promulgated, that in the Old Testament there is no revelation of such a life. Some obscure passages, both of the former and the latter revelation, would be made more clear by a proper rendering. Thus, for example, when the Divine Son of God appeared in glory to the Apostle John at Patmos, he spoke of himself (as translated in the authorized version) as having the keys of " Hell " and of Death. The true idea of the declaration is that He is Lord of the world of departed souls, both of those who have done good and those who have done evil. In the earliest creed of the Christian Church the belief is expressed that Christ descended into Hell, an expression which has been a great occasion of stumbling to many devout souls, and very naturally so. But the original word has the same signification as that in the Apocalypse, and the belief is expressed that Christ, after death, passed into Hades, the great unseen world of departed souls. The Greek concep- tion of this region is well known, a conception which is referred to with vividness in one of the most wonderful pas- sages of Shakespeare, that, namely, describing the dream of ■Clarence shortly before his violent death. m E, }' I if: Hi ; t; 'K ■}B'. ;! 1 I ; I: CHAPTER XXV. JosErii IN Ecvrr. Genesis jg, yo. The company of merchants who bought Joseph sold him for a slave to one of the chief ofificers of the King of Egypt. Up to a recent period, and in some parts of the Eastern world now, the slave market is as common a feature of a large city as the bazaars, where carpets and rugs are sold. We need not say how recently the same might be said of many cities of this American continent. Now Joseph, let us remember, was a goodly young man ami well-favored. Handsome in person, and, doubtless, of good manners and address, he was precisely the kind of servant that a great officer of State would like to have about him. Such a one visiting the slave market, in search of a man-servant for his house, would naturally be attracted to one of Joseph's appearance and desire to possess him. So the bargain is made, doubtless highly to the advantage of the merchant- men, and the young Hebrew is taken to his new home. The officer is called in our version the Captain of the Guard ; but the Hebrew rather suggests one like our High Sheriff, a civil, not a military officer. And now, as the young man increases in age, he develops a capacity for management, which was doubtless inherited from his father. So as time goes on, serving in his master's house, he gradually advances in responsibility until he is put in charge of all his affairs, both within and without, and as his father had made Laban to prosper, so does the son make his master Poti-Phar (note the difference in the language) to prosper. The secret of all was that the " Lordivas li'itk him !" But while thus proceeding and becoming more and more trusted until his master, as it is said, " knexv nothing of all that he had," leaving all to this j'oung man's management, fully confiding both in his honesty and his capacity, a terrible misfortune befel him. Another dark cloud passed over his existence, at the very time when the sunshine of prosperity was all about his way. Once before, when all was well with him, in the land of his birth, he, the favorite son of his father, honored with special tokens of approbation, and with foreshadowings of greatness revealed by Divinely-sent dreams, was suddenly cast down into the depths of misery, ' Joseph in Egypt. 21 I Satan, stirring up murderous designs against him in the breasts of his own brothers. Now, again, having risen to a height of favor and prosperity (for the narrative emphasizes the fact that "he ivas a prosperous man; the Lord making- all that he did to prosper"), Satan again weaves a web of wicked design to catch him therein, and overthrow him. The great adversary tempts the wife of Poti-Phar to wicked advances, which Joseph resists by considering, " How CAN I DO THIS GRE.Vr WICKEDNES.S AND SIN AGAINST God ?" shewing to all tempted souls in after time the true source of strength when assailed " by the fiery darts of the ivicked." None were there to see, as the narrative tells. But the All-seeing, His eye was there, and the young man realized it. His faith in the unseen God was a shield to- quench the darts repeatedly cast at him, and he came unscathed and unhurt in soul out of the furnace of trial. Devilish malice takes now another form. Lies and slander by the tongue of this wicked woman are uttered, believed by his master, who, as was most natural, was fiercely angry with his steward, and cast him into prison. There was no. trial, no hearing of the accused, no opportunity of defence. In those days, and for long ages afterwards, aye, down even to modern times, an enemy or suspected man might be seized by order of a king or by the violence of a noble who was lord of a castle strong enough, and, without the shadow of law or an}- orderly procedure of justice, cast into a dungeon, from whence he might never emerge but to be led to execution and buried in the castle yard. The Bastile of Paris, only one short century ago, contained victims of this sort, as did our own Tower of London in earlier times, as well as the pictur- esque castle cf Chillon on Lake Geneva, and many more throughout Europe. That famous enactment of English law, the Habeas Corpus Act, is expressly designed to prevent such lawless tyranny, by compelling those who have any prisoner in custody, be they whom they may, to bring the prisoner intO' open court, that he may face his accusers and give such an answer as he can. Joseph, however, was pvt into a prison, a state prison. Here he was " bound i^nth fetters " (as we learn from Psalm 105 ; thus does one Scripture supplement another), he was " laid in iron," and thrust into an inner prison, a dungeon, like the great Apostle of the Gentiles was in after times. But even here, in this dreary plight, the Lord was with him. So good was his conduct, his whole demeanor so utterly unlike a criminal, that the jailer took notice of him, raised him up, and in time gave him charge over the rest of the prisoners ; the jailer recognizing the power and talent of the man, as the High Sheriff had done before him. 212 Joseph in Egypt. ;!'! ,t i m:-\ Here, in the prison, begins a train of circumstances which gradually advance him higher, until he becomes, with excep- tion of one, the foremost man of all the world, as the world then was. Egypt, as is well known by other records and as is evidenced by imperishable monuments, had advanced by this time to a high position in civilization. Art, architecture, government, gradations of rank, an orderly society, science, learning, had all a development in this wonderful land of the Nile far beyond anything known el.sewhere. Only in religion was there a degradation and debasement worthy of the most untutored barbarians, proving what has often been illustrated in the history of nations, that very high developments in all forms of secular civilization may co-exist with the most con- temptible conceptions of Deity, the most degrading supersti- tions, and the most childish credulity and folly. The noblest temples of ancient times still rear their ruined and gigantic ■columns on the banks of the Nile. The principal god that was worshipped in them was a creature whose proper habitat is the stable or the pasture field, a sacred bull. The noblest temples of Christendom were erected at a time when the Christian faith reached its very lowest development in debas- ing superstitions, lying legends and corrupt lives of priest, monk, and people. Such was Egypt as regards civilization when this young Hebrew was carried down to the country as a slave. And •such it was during the train of singular events that transpired, in the Providence of God, during his life. The steps of his elevation are noteworthy. They began in the casting into prison of two high officers of Pharaoh's house- hold, suspected, possibly while perfectly innocent, at the instance of designing enemies who wanted their offices, of •designs on the king's life. For these two men carried the life of the king in their hands every day. A little poison introduced into the cup of wine by the chief butler, or a little poison carefully and secretly mingled with the sweetmeats prepared exclusively for the king's table by his confectioner, and as a result, sickness, death, the triumph of plotting enemies, and perhaps a change of dynasty. The history of ancient nations, and of some modern ones too, throws a lurid light on such methods and their consequences. Thus it came about that the office of cup-bearer to the king was of such high importance, the custom being that the cup-bearer must drink himself of that which he handed to the king. A curious light is thrown on the safeguards by which kings sought to surround themselves in this very narrative. The butler's office was to take grapes from the vine, and in Pharaoh's own presence to press out the juice and present T Joseph in Egypt. 215 the cup to the king. This truly did not ensure absolute immunity from danger, for a designing official, heavily bribed, might even introduce poison to the juice of the grape by the pressure of the hand. But there can be no doubt it diminished the danger to the smallest possible degree. These two officers, however, were in prison under suspicion doubtless of designs on the king's life, and each of them in the same night dreamed a characteristic dream. Dreams. The philosophy of dreams has never been unravelled. Most of them are disconnected, aimless, unreasonable ; aud men wonder how such strange combinations of fanciful events can possibly pass through the brain. But some dreams again are clearly the outcome of events actually experienced, and which hi've left an unusually strong impression on the mind. Others reflect the desires, aspirations and hopes which men entertain, perhaps of travelling to foreign countries, or ot returning home, or escaping out of prison, or of success in some cherished enterprise. And it is a fact, that in some rare instances, even in our own day, a dream of an unusual kind has been followed by an exactly corresponding event. A person living in one of the cities of Canada once dreamed that a small brook flowing by the house had risen as a roaring torrent to such a height as to force its way into the dwelling,, in spite of all efforts to prevent it, and flooded the basement to a considerable depth. This dream was talked over at breakfast next morning. The month was July ; the weather was hot and dry, and such a flooding next to impossible. Yet that very day, about noon, by the bursting of a dam in the neighborhood, every particular of that dream was fulfilled. Such things are utterly unaccountable by any known laws of mind. The dreams of the chief cupbearer and chief confectioner were each of them natural enough. And they must be taken to be, in some sense, Divine premonitions, not more and not less accountable than those spoken of. Joseph had had dreams himself, which we know now were Divine premonitions. But they were far from accomplish- ment at that time, and may have been utterly forgotten. But a very general belief existed in all these ancient times, and it presents itself again and again, in these Biblical narratives as well as in ordinary history, that some dreams had a signifi- cance, that they were sent by the gods, and that priests,, prophets, magicians, sorcerers — persons all of them having. r !l^ > J. _ 214 Joseph in Egypt. (or professing to have) knowledge of the designs of the gods — were the persons to interpret them. But Joseph made no pretension to be a prophet, and there is no evidence of any desire to glorify /f/wiv^' in what he said to these men. Rather he led them to think of the All-Wise as the Revealer of the Secrets which affected the destiny of men. His liumiiity and modesty are conspicuous throughout the whole narrative. '^he dream of the cup-bearer was about the discharge of ins office ; that of the confectioner about the work he had constantly to do. Both suggested, in some degree, events that came to pass. But they were undoubtedly susceptible of other interpretations, and we can only ascribe the giving the true solution by Joseph to an impartation of special Divine wisdom. The words of the Hebrew slave to the cup-bearer arc most touching. " TlioH shalt be restored to thine office zi'ithin three days. But think on me, ti'hen it shall be well icith thee, and shexv kindness, I pray thee, unto nie, and make mention of me unto Pharaoh, and bring me out of this house. For indeed I ivas stolen away out of the land of the Hebrezvs, and here also have I done nothing that they should put me into the dungeon." An appeal, this, one would think that would touch the most callous. But alas ! for human nature, when the chief butler was restored to his office, " he did not remember Joseph, but forgat him !" Too true to life is this, as men know it, and have experience of it, in days of modern civilization, an experience which has led to the cynical saying that "gratitude is a lively sense of favors to come." Joseph, therefore, dragged on his weary life in prison, and there he might remain till the day of his death, for let us remember there was no period assigned for iiis captivity. But at the end of two years an event happened, which turned the whole of the current of his life into another channel and affected the destiny of his family and nation. And, again, dreams are the instrument that the Supreme Ruler of the affairs of men employs to accomplish His purposes. The dreams that Pharaoh dreamed were of matters of immensely greater import than those of his officers. They related to the supply of food for the people of the kingdom, a matter of life and death to multitudes of people, and not of Egypt only, but of all the regions round about. For Egypt then, as it became even more in after ages, was the granary of the world. Certainly, it was a matter of life and death to the family of Joseph. The dreams of the fat and lean kine,and of the full and shrivelled ears have become classic in our language. They might mean many things, but the drift of them, apparently, was of some impending Joseph in Egypt. 215 calamity. Therefore the King was troubled. There were, even in that early age, professors of the magical art ; conjurors, necromancers and wise men, in the country, but none of them ventured on an interpretation, for the penalty of a mistake would probably be death. Then it was that the chief cup-bearer bethought him of the wise young Hebrew of the prison, and candidly exclaimed, " / do remember my fixults this day" going on to tell of the dreams of himself and the chief confectioner, and of the interpretation of them by Joseph, which corresponded exactly with the event. This, then, was the man who was wanted ; and so we read on, " Then Pharaoh sent and called Joseph, and they brought him hastily out oj the dungeon, and he shaved and changed his raiment and came in unto Pharaoh!' The shaving and change of raiment may indicate the neglected condition of prisoners like himself, even in a prison of State. Be this as it may, the Hebrew captive is brought into the presence of one of those mighty monarchs who ruled so absolutely over the destinies of nations in those early times, and who could, and did, raise up or cast down at his sole pleasure. As it was expressed most truly of the King of Babylon in after ages, " all people feared before him ; xvhom he -would he sleiv, and ivhom he would he kept alive, and whom he ivould he set tip, and whom he -would he put dozvn." (Daniel v.. 19.) Men, even to our times, monarchs of this type have ruled nations and people, and do so, even in Europe, at this day. The rapid rise of some, the rapid downfall of others, are matters which, even in the case of monarchs themselves, we have been most familiar with since the days of the French Revolution. So this young man stood before Pharaoh. The opening sentence of the colloquy gives the key to his character. The King spoke and said, '' I have dreamed a dream and there is none to interpret it. And I have heard of thee that -when thou hcarest a dream thou canst interpret it!' Here, at such a time, was an opportunity for a man of self-seeking to exalt his own powers. And certainly the temptation to pride and undue exaltation at such a moment was as severe as the temptation to licentiousness was at another. But the grace of God was upon him. The sense of God's overshadowing presence was there with this young man, the sole representa- tive of the unseen Supreme Lord of Lords amidst a multitude of worshippers of animals and reptiles. " Thou, God, seest me" he must have said, on passing into the royal presence, and, accordingly, in response to the challenge to interpret, he answers, with all humility and faith, "■ It is not in me. God shall give to Pharaoh an ans-wer of peace!' Then the dreams were told : the seven lean kine devouring Kil 'I li I / ; i^:' !>' 2l6 Joseph in Egypt. the seven fat kine, the seven lean ears of corn devouring the seven full ears. Such dreams might mean nothing, or they might mean something that concerned the King alone, like the cup-bearer's, or they might mean much more. What they did mean, we learn from Joseph, who, after hearing the dream recounted, replied, " The dream is one. God hath showed Pharaoh ichat he is about to do." The dream, then, was a Divine monition. He who has access to the spirits of all men chose, in His goodness, to give the King of Egypt a warning of what was impending in his kingdom. The vast importance of such a monition in the case may be seen by considering that if there had been no knowledge of the years of famine, there would certainly have been no preparation for them. Times of plenty are more generally times of thoughtless spending than of careful provision for possible failure. The mass of the people live from day to day. Some look from season to season, but these are the exception. But who, when years of plenty were steadily recurring, would think of keeping back and storing up against a change which might never transpire. Yet, let us think. Suppose that for a few years past there had been certain knowledge of the scarcity in India towards the close of 1896, and of the terrible famine that might ensue, of what inestimable value to the lives and welfare of millions would such knowledge have been. What pre- parations we would have seen, what storing up, what sowing of greater areas, what economy of resources, what preparation for distribution. Then, indeed, there would have been no famine and no plague. These dreams were Divine monitions, and the magicians probably had some instinctive consciousness that they were such. They usually were not backward to give some sort of interpretation, and often they made very shrewd guesses. But now, apparently, God caused a fear to possess them, as if He would not have His warnings interpreted by cheats and frauds. Joseph, therefore, was left alone, and expounded the dream, as we well know, to mean seven years of plenty, succeeded by seven years of dearth, " such that all the pleuty shall be forgotten. And the famine shall consume the land" Such was the interpretation. But Joseph, still under Divine direction, went on, speaking with fearlessness and uncon.sciousness of everything except the terrible danger that overshadowed the land and the necessity of guarding against it : " Let Pharaoh look out for a man discreet and wise, and set him over the land of Egypt. Let Pharaoh do this" emphasizing the words, " and let him appoint overseers over the land, and take up the fifth part of the land in the seven plenteous years, and lay up corn under the hand of Joseph in Egypt. 217 Pharaoh, and let them keep food in the cities, and that food shall be for store in the land against the seven years of famine." There is extraordinary wisdom in this advice ; first, in the rccoinmcndation to appoint a man with special powers to superintend the supplies of food over the whole land ; next, in the recommendation to appoint subordinate officers under his direction to sec that the fifth part of each plentiful year's crop should be saved : and most of all in the recommendation as to this fifth part. Foi to take a fifth part would not be felt as an excessive amount to withhold, and would produce no dissatisfaction ; while, as calculation will easily show, this amount, added to the much diminished crop of the famine years (for the land would produce some crop even then) would carry the land, with reasonable economy, through the years of scarcity. Thus, let it be supposed that an ordinary crop is fifteen bushels per acre. In tiie years of plenty there might be thirty (and we have known such things ourselves). One- fifth of this would be six bushels. Let it be supposed that the cro[) in the fainine years was only one-half an ordinary crop, or seven bushel.s. This, with the six bushels added, would come so near what was required, both for food and seed, that no inconvenience would arise. The practical wisdom of all this so impressed Pharaoh that he at once conceived that no man could be so fit to carry out the design as he that had given the advice. So, turning to his servants, he said : " Can we find such a one as this : a man in 2vhom the spirit of God is ? " Whatever he might mean by this, or they understand, it seems clear that they came to recognize the working of a higher than human wisdom in all this, the wisdom of superior divinities, or of One Supreme Lord of Wisdom, Foresight, and Providence. That such thoughts have impressed the minds of men in heathen countries, when brought face to face with evidences of Divine power and wisdom, is clear from the Book of Daniel — a man strikingly resembling Joseph in every particular of character and circumstance. Be this as it may, it pleased Pharaoh, and his servants concurred (all ordinary jealousies being silenced in the greatness of the events opened out to them) that Joseph should be lifted up at once to this exalted position, and made, what we would call, the Prime INIinister of the Kingdom. Now the Divine hand is seen moving events rapidly towards the accomplishment of purposes shadowed forth long before. The slave is lifted from the dungeon. He is made ruler of all the land. Invested with all the outward insignia of greatness, he rides in Pharaoh's chariot, wears Pharaoh's signet ring, has a chain of gold about his neck, while heralds cry before him, " Bozc the knee" Finally a title 15 \ Iv :! 2lS is coiifcnccl upon Joscpit in Egypt. him, " The Rcvcalcr of Secrets" the words is coiifcncd upon him, " 1 he Kcvcalcr of Secrets, the words in Iv^j-ptiaii boin^ Ziiphiiiith-p.iune.ih, aiul the thiuj^lUer ot Poti-piicrah, the I'licst or Trince of On, is i^ivcn him to wife. So tliis stone, rcjcctetl b\- tin- builders, becomes the head of the corner, in contemplation of which we can onl>' sa>', " It is the Lord's doini;, anil marvellous in our eyes." ii I CHAl'TKR XXVI. Joseph as Cim:i' Rulkk. (tt'iirsis f^i, etc. Joseph, prepanxl for liii;!) tlcstiiiy by a lonj; and severe course of discipline, as well as by previous exi)erieiice in sul)ordinate positions, enters on the tluties of his office when he is thirty years of ai^e. His fnst proceedinj; was to pass throui;ii every district of tlie country, ami put into operation those uK-asures of economy with regard to tlie extraordinary crops, which lie had su.i;i;esteil to the Kini;. lie wouUl appoint subortUnate officers also to assist in working out his plans. In tliis he would have neetl of Divine wisdom, for the Ix'st measures, the most wisely desii;ned, will fail in o])eration if not well carried out in detail. 'I'lie selection of suboniinates, and especially those diarized with responsibility, is one of the most difficult duties of a man placed in hii;h position. To "find men who are at once capable and hoiu^st, men wlio under.stand their duty, who have energy, industry, and perseverance, as well as technical skill, men who, at the .same time, are conscientious and faithful in dischari;e of duty, who cannot be briljed or inlluenced to nej^lect it, these arc men who have to be soui;ht for, ami, beiiii; proved, can be advanced from responsibility to responsibility. Such men Josejih had in view in recommeiulint; "overseers" to l)c ai)pointed when tellin;^ tlie nieanini; of the dream, and sucli he iloiil)tless looked for and appointed, as he was able to find them. l':<4y|)t hail many cities, so called, at that early time, ])r()l)ably more like our country towns or villa!_;cs, inan\' of them. l''or the lvj;\'plians were ulterh' unlike tlie nomads of tlic desert or the plains, who ni>vcr built, but lived in tents. Tiic Iv^yptians were L;r(Mt builders. They conL;re;4aled tojjether. ICveii the cultivators of the soil lived in villav;es, as they do in India, and larijel)' in I"'iij,daiid, to this day. In each of these, then, Joseph established (lovernment .storehouses, Inyiiit^ iif^ corn tlit'rcin, louicr tlw hand of P/iiiron//, by royal nianilate, ye.u- after year, the means thereof beint; a special reservation of one-lifth of the yearly crop. Thi.s could be borne without the slightest difficulty at such i: 2 20 hi 'I in J :!l !i:!: Joseph as Chief Ruler. a time, and doubtless the greater part of the people would willingly co-operate. But this was far too serious a matter to be left to voluntary co-operation. The very life of the people of Egypt, and, indeed, of all adjoining countries, depended on it. Therefore, it was enforced by royal mandate. During these prosperous years the two sons of Joseph were born who were to give their names to tribes. Manasskh was the first born, the name signifying Forgetting, for '' God, said he, hath made ine forget all my toil ami all my father s house" thus giving God all the praise of his advancement ; the other, Kl'llKAlM, signifying FRUITFUL, in token of the blessings that had befallen him. Of the tribe of Manasseh we do not hear much in subsequent history, but that of Ephraim had their portion in the very centre of the land of promise, and became the head of the tribes that revolted. But the years of plenty passed, and the years of scarcity began. Large as were the stores laid up by the Govcnmncnt, it is probable that they were largely supplemented by those laid up by provident individuals or communities. And the event proved that all these supplies were needed. I'or the scarcity was not in Egypt only, but in all the corn-growing lands of the time. And all, hearing of the stores of Egypt, came thither to buy bread. And now, much as it is in India, while these words are being written, the great and chief employment of Josei^h, as head of the Government, was to superintend the sale and dis- tribution of food. And then it was that the events began, after so long a period of time, by which the strange foreshadowings of his early life were realized. And events also developed, by a sagacity and wisdom on his part, inspired from above, that brought these hard and cruel brothers of his to a condition of deep humiliation and repentance for their misdeeds, and to a change which issued in an elevation of thought and conduct which, at one time, none would have conceived them capable of One may well say, when looking at what these men became, and what they were before, and the means by which it was brouglit about, " Hoiv unsearchable are God's judguients and His zvays past fimiiug out !" In the earlier portion of this narrative their conduct was that of licentious and savage barbarians ; in the latter tliat of men worthy to be the heads of a nation, through which the light of salvation was to be preserved for all the world. The scarcity affected the land of Canaan. It was doubtless by a continued series of hot and dry years affecting all coun- tries. To Egypt it meant a low rising of the Nile, year after Joseph as Chief Ruler. 231 year. What that meant we may understand on thinking of the extraordinary anxiety with which the rising of the river is watched, year by year unfailingly, in these very times. For a low rise still means scarcity. To the land of Canaan, while the hot and dry years would mean deficient crops of grain, it also meant deficient pasturage for flocks and herds, and the necessity of slaughtering them for food. The vast sheep- ranches of Australia are sometimes so visited, and the conse- quence was vividly expressed by its being said of one whose flocks were numbered by tens of thousands, that at the end of a certain dry season he found himself the happy owner of fifty thousand skeletons. Something of this sort probably befell the family of Jacob. Their (locks and herds so reduced that they dare not allow them to be further depleted, the old man, hearing of corn in Egypt, said to his sons : ' Why do ye look one upon another P" Thus were they looking, in moody silence, which was an index of the despair which was taking possession of them. " Go dozen to Egypt" said the father, '' and buy food!' So all went, Benjamin alone excepted ; for the old man could not bear to part with him, the only son left of his dearly loved and lost wife Rachel. They come to Egypt. They meet Joseph, who recognizes them at once. But it was impossible that they should recognize him. And now, guided by infinite wi.sdom, with the great end in view of bringing about the conversion of these men through suffering and discipline, he adopted strange and rough methods, accusing them of being spies, and throwing them into prison, doubtless the very same he had been confined in himself For such, generally, is the course of retribution. Their thoughts and colloquies in the dungeon may be imag- ined. It is evident they were thinking of their conduct years ago to their brother, at first left to die in a pit, and then sold for a slave into this \ery country where they now were. Did they not begin to think what had become of ////// ? Such were their thoughts, evidently ; for on being released, and hearing that the great potentate before them insisted on retaining one of them in prison as a pledge that they would bring down the youngest brother they spoke of, they said one to another, little dreaming who was listening : " We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saiv the anguish of his soul, zvhen he besought us, and we would not hear ; therefore is this distress come upon us ! " Blessed words of contrition and penitence ; the dawning of a new and better era in the lives and characters of these men. Joseph, on hearing this, was moved beyond endurance. " He turned azvay and wept." Simeon was the one chosen as hostage. One may well 222 Joseph as Chief Ruler. ■\-\ ■ V I ! .j.,.„i . imagine from the savage onslaught he once made on the men of Shechcm, that he had been the prime mover in the nefarious plot to murder Joseph. Now he was bound in fetters before their eyes and taken off to prison. Their corn was measured out, their sacks filled ; and, strange to say, their money returned in the sack too (doubtless iVom Joseph's private resources), another circumstance wliich filled them with alarm. " TJieir hearts failed them ; they ivcre afraid ;" like guilty men, they feared that some retribution or other was coming, and they said one to another, " What is this that God hath done to us P" Again we see the working of a new principle of good in their souls, viz., the recognition of the hand and power of Almighty God — God, whom they had so wickedly ignored and forgotten in their earlier days. Affliction is driving them to " Consider their zvays and turn their feet to His testimonies." Arrived home, they tell their strange story. They all feared as they counted out the money, but when the\- spoke of the hard conditions exacted by the lord of the country, viz., that Benjamin must go down too, the old man could not bear it, and broke out, in bitter reproaches against his sons, " ATe ye have bereaved of my children ! foseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take JSenJamin away! " And then he added words which many a troubled soul has used since his day, " All these things are against me," the heart-broken exclamation of a man about whom the clouds of adversity have settled so thickly that no light is to be seen. Yet the words have in them a lesson of comfort inexpressible, for the sequel showed that these very clouds were full of " showers of blessing." So matters rested. But the time came when the food was consumed. Hard necessity j^ressed. They must go to Egypt again. Every phase of this narrative is as true to life and human nature as it is possible to imagine, and we can almost hear the colloquy that ensued. .After a positive refusal on the part of the old man ; wc must take Iknjamin, said Judah (who from this time forward takes the lead) for the man in I'^gypt said we should never see his face unless we did so. Then, said the father," Wherefore dealt ye so evil with me as to tell the man xvhether ye had yet a brother ? And they said. The man asked us nartozvly of our state, and of our kindred, saying. Is your father yet alive ? and. Have ye another brother?" and we told him. ""How could 7i'<' knoii) certainly that he would say, Bring dozvn your brother P" Ah ! how could they know the reason of this interest in their family on the part of the great ruler? All of this was marvellous to these dwellers in the land of Canaan. What possible interest could this great potentate Joseph as Cliicf Ruler. 223 in Egypt have in a family of strangers and foreigners, who only came on the same errand as hundreds of others, to buy supplies of corn to keep them from starving ? Why should he trouble himself about them in particular ? But dire necessity knows no law. Judah again speaks : " Send the lad xcith me, I ivill be surety for him, of my hand shalt thou require him. If I bring him not to thee, let me bear the blame forever!' Brotherly and filial affection is marvellously developing under the heavy pressure. The furnace of affliction is refining their character. Then spake the father, '• If it must be so, take presents, and take back the money he returned, and take your brother, and God Almighty give you mercy before the man .'" The image of some cruel and remorseless tyrant was before him. With sore misgivings of the result he cried, '' If I be bereaved of my children, I am bereaved!' For the second time they took their journey, and appeared before the man they so much dreaded. This man, this terrible Lord of Egypt. But now there is a series of still more remarkable events : a kindling of the refiner's fire to even a hotter point than before, a more terrible application of the discipline of suffering. Yet not at once. For they were lifted up, before they were cast down to the depths. Much to their astonishment, they were invited to the house of the great ruler ; and also much to their alarm. For they concluded he would take occasion, from the money they took away, to arrest them and reduce them to slavery. Still they were haunted by the idea of bondage, as guilty men always anticipate from others what they have meted out themselves. But apparently their fears were groundless. Simeon was brought out to them, most likely a much-changed man from the fierce desperado of former days. They were ushered with much ceremony into the presence of the man they feared, who, to their great relief, spoke kindly to them, again asked of their welfare, and said : " Is your father ivell, the old man of ivhom ye spake ? Is he yet alive ? " Marvellous words, indeed, to be spoken by this Eg\-ptian potentate to them, through an interpreter. Then l^enjamin was noticed, and he said : " Is this your younger brother, of whom ye spake to me ?" Then, the bonds of brotherly affec- tion bursting through all restraint, he added, in a tremulous voice : " God be gracious to thee, my son!' But Joseph could bear it no longer. He hasted away, sought out a private chamber, and burst into a passion of weeping. But the meal bye-and-bye was served, and in all ceremony and state ; he by himself, they by themselves, the Egyptians by themselves. And marvellous it was to them, yea, utterly 224 Joseph (US Chief Ruler. V ■ K I' If! ,r \]-^ ■ . I ■M I- ? ■ 1 unaccountable, that their places at table were all assigned in exact order of seniority. Surely, they must have thought, this man is a magician and a diviner as well as the lord of Egypt. But the meal passed off happily. Wine removed restraint. " Thej dra)ik and icere merry with him!' So far all went well, liut now a strange artifice was prac- tised on them, the object being to cast them to the very dust in penitential humiliation ; to draw out to their very strongest tension the cords of family affection ; to bind them together as they never were bound before as brothers and sons. An artifice it was, like to a stratagem in war, only defensible on the ground of the end to be derived from it ; coming, indeed, perilously near to the doing of evil that good might come. But, after all, we cannot properly judge of the means, and the end was undoubted. They got their corn. But a strange direction was given to the officer who served them, viz : that the silver drinking-cup of the great Prime Minister should be put into the sack of the youngest brother. So, then, early in the morning they all left in peace, liut before the}* had proceeded far Joseph said to the steward : " Up, folloio those men ; demand to search their sacks, and say, ' Wherefore have ye rez>.'arded evil for good? Ye have stolen my masters divining cup. Ye have done evil in so doing.' " Bejond measure astonished, the men protested solemnly their innocence. Were they the men to steal the master's silver, they — who had brought back all the money first given them ? And they added the solemn asseveration, " in whoso- ever's sack the cup is found, let him die, and we will give our- selves up to be bondsmen." But the steward said, " Nay, he shall be a bondman, and ye shall be blameless." The dread enquiry now opened, beginning at the eldest. Sack after sack was opened, and as no cup was found in one after another, their hopes beat high of speedy deliverance and safe return. But alas ! at the very last moment their hopes were dashed to the ground. The cup wjs found in Benjamin's sack! Of all possible calamities this was the worst. They were struck dumb by the unexpected blow. " 7hey rent their clothes, laded every man his ass, and returned to the city." What their thoughts were during the sorrowful going back is plain from the sequel. Arrived, they are brought into the presence of the awful chief, and prostrate themselves before him. He demands of them roughly, " ]Vhat is this ye have done ? Knoiv ye not that such a one as I can certainly find out?" Then Judah, once more speaking for the rest, said, " What shall we say unto my lord ? What shall ive speak ? PIozu shall we clear ourselves ? " Then he adds the inexpressibly solemn words, Joseph as Chief Ruler. !25 " God hath found out the iniquity of thy servants." Innocent of the present charge, as they were, the guilt of their vilhiin- ous wrong-doing of twenty years before was now weighing down tiicir spirits with anguish unspeakable. " My sin is ever before me" exclaimed the great King and Psalmist of after ages, himself a descendant of Judah ; and to these men had now come a powerful conviction of sin, doubtless by the Spirit of God, working repentance unto salvation not to be repented of. Then he added, " We are my hrd's servants, both ice and he zcith i^'hom the cup is found.'' liut the great master replied, God forbid ; only the nian in whose hand the cup is found, he shall be my servant. " As for you, get you up in peace unto your father." Had they been the men of twenty years before, they would have accepted this proposal, which gave them their freedom at once, and, without a shadow of compunction, left IJenjamin to his fate. But they were changed men. The iron of disciplinary suffering had sunk into their soul. Penitence had dawned, and with penitence came tenderness of affec- tion and a brotherly kindness before unknown. So then, with a bursting heart, Judah once more spoke, and spoke in words of the most touching pathos that have ever been embodied in human language. Nothing in all literature can be found so tender, .so moving, .so simply eloquent, as these of the rude Canaanite shepherd, pleading before one who was at once a great Egyptian potentate, and his own much- wronged younger brother. " Oh my lord," he begins, " let thy servant speak a word in my lord's ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy serv- ants, for thou art even as Pharaoh!' Then proceeding, he tells of the family, little dreaming that the ears of him who was listening were burning with interest as he went on : " My lord asked, have ye a father or a brother ? And we said unto my lord, we have a father, an old man, and a child of his ■old age, a little one. And his brother is dead" (Ah ! his brother is dead ! but who. Judah, brought that about ?) '' and he alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him. And thou saidst. Bring him doivn to me ; but we said, the lad cannot leave his father, for if he should leave his father. Ins father would die I And thou saidst to thy servants. Except your youngest brother come down zviih you, ye shall see my face no viore." Then in touching words he tells of their return home, of their recounting the hard conditions to their father, of his anguish at the idea of parting with Benjamin. " Thy servant my father said unto us. Ye know that my wife bare me txvo sons, and the one zvent out from me, and I said, surely he is torn in pieces, and I sazv him not since ; and if ye take this also from lii H u .■ •ir > ?" '' li i ■■■it MM << ili 226 Joseph as Chief Ruler. me, and mischief befall him, ye shall bring doxv ay hairs ivith sorroxv to the grave." And Joseph listening to all this ! " Noxv therefore," Judah continues, evidently with a broken and troubled utterance, past recollections, remorseful and bit- ter, crowding his thoughts as he speaks, " iiozu therefore, li'Jicn I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not -u'ith us, seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life," and now a troubled pause : his voice falters, he can scarcely speak ; " it shall come to pass, xvhcn he seeth that the lad is not ivith us, that he will die ! " Another moment of troubled silence. He will die, " and thy servants shall bring dozvn the gray hairs of thy servant our father xvith sorroz^' to the grave ! " Then he pleads, in most touching words, that he, Judah, should abide instead of the lad. " For thy servant became surety for the lad unto my father, saying. If I bring him not to thee, then I shall bear the blame to my father for ever. Noxi> therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the lad, a bondman to my lord, and let the lad go ivith his brethren. For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me, lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come to my father ! " The hardest heart would have been moved by such an appeal. What then must Joseph have felt as his brother went on. His bosom rose and swelled until his emotions became overpowering. " Cause every man to go out from me," he suddenly cried out. Then, when left alone with his brethren, his pent-up feelings found vent in a loud outburst of weeping, so loud that the house of Pharaoh heard. What must have been the astonishment of his brothers at such a scene as this ! But how much more astonished when this great Egyptian lord, whom they so much feared,, cried out to them, " I AM JOSEPH ! Doth my father yet live ?" This last touch of inexpressible affection was not so much a question — for he had been hearing of his father all through the address of Judah — as an exclamation. Is it indeed so that my aged father survives ? But his brothers were awe-struck. " They could not anszuer him. They zcere troubled," or, as the margin gives it, terrified,. at his presence ! And well they might, as a rush of recollections crowded upon them — their treachery, the murderous casting into the pit, the selling into slavery, the lying to their father ! Can it be possible that this all- powerful lord of Egypt is their shamefully used brother ? What can they expect but to be hurried off to execution. Such thoughts doubtless filled their minds, rushing in a swift current in less time than it takes to recount them. But their fears were at once quieted by his wonderfully Joseph as C/iief Ruler. '■7 gracious words, " Come near to me, I pray you." On their coming near he went on, '' I atn, indeed, Joseph, your brother, tvhoin ye sold into Egypt /" Then, with tenderness beyond expression, he went on to say, "/>V not grieved, nor angry zvith yourselves, Jor God sent me bejore you to preserve life. There are yet five more years of famine. God sent me before you to save your lives by a great deh'verance. So, it was not you, but God, sent me here, and he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of his house and ruler over the land of Egypt." Were thev not dumb with astonishment, as men in a dream, when they heard this ; and almost more so as he said, " Haste, go up to my father. Tell him, thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt. Come doivn,. tarry not, and thou shalt dzvell in the land of Goschen, and there ivill I nourish thee, for there are yet five years of famine ; lest thou and thy household, and all that thou hast come to poverty." Wonder of wonders, they must have thought, as these gracious words fell from his lips. But not a word could they reply. Then, seeing that they could not realize it, could not believe their very ears, he said, probably casting off some portion of his head dress, that they might see him more as he used to be, ''And behold, your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my very montli zvhich speaketh to you r Then, with an exquisite touch of nature he goes on, '' And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen, and haste and bring my father doiun hither." Then he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck and wept, and Benjamin fell on his neck, — Benjamin first, the son of his own mother Rachel. Then he kissed all his brethren, and zvept upon them, — wept upon them. Up to this time they had not dared to utter a word. But now; they talked with him. What a conversation that must have been ! but the Divine Spirit has not seen fit to have it recorded. But the fame of all this was heard in Pharaoh's house, and it pleased Pharaoh and his. servants. A marvellous history indeed. Surely this is the hand of God, guiding, controlling, influencing the minds of many men, to bring to pass the counsels of His own inscrutable will. i !l if I ' 1 i CHAPTER XXVII. Jacob and His Family go down to Egypt. Genesis ^6, ^7. Instead of Joseph's brethren being received with suspicion and jealousy, as is usually the case when a man in high posi- tion endeavors to promote his family, they were welcomed, and invited by the king to settle in the land of Egypt. The whole narrative reveals a marvellous and constant work- ing of the Divine will, over-ruling events, and the course of men's minds, and ordering all for the accomplishment of ends of high importance, but such as were most unlikely to hap- pen in the ordinary course of affairs. Long before this it had been revealed to Abraham that his posterity would sojourn for many generations in a strange land ; would suffer heavy oppression ; would go out " xvith great substance," while the nation that afflicted them should be '^ judged." Marvel- lous, indeed, have been the events that led to this migration. " Wonderful in counsel and excellent in working" is the Supreme Ruler and Lord of all the Earth, and we now see Him bringing about the separation of this chosen family from the land where they have sojourned for three generations. The brethren of Joseph are sent back with presents as well as food, and a mandate from Pharaoh, spoken to Joseph, that they shall bring their father, their wives, their children, and all that they had, and settle themselves in one of the richest districts of the country. " / zvill give you" said he, " the good of the land of Egypt, and ye shall eat the fat of the land." This, of course, refers to the country in its natural condition, when the years of famine were ended. P'or it was lean enough at that time. When the brothers returned with the wonderful story that Joseph was alive, and Governor of Egypt, the old man zvas overcome with fear. His heart fainted within him. For if that story were true, then they had grossly deceived him before. " He believed them not" and fell into deep dejection of spirit. What other misery were these wretched sons of his preparing for him ? But they told him of the words of Joseph as to the land they were to dwell in, and he saw with his own eyes that Benjamin had come back. But the convincing proof was the numerous train of waggons they had brought \-1\ Jacob and his Family go doiun to Egypt. 229 with them. How could they possibly have brought these if their story were not true ? So, considering these things, the spirit of the old man revived, and he said, " // is enough, Joseph, my son, is yet alive. I ivill go doivn and see him before I die." The events of the present century, when such multitudes of people have migrated from their own country in search of wealth or better means of subsistence, may the better enable us to understand the many migrations recorded in this Book of Genesis. For there are .so many that it might almost be called the Book of Emigration as well as the Book of Origins. For example : — 1. We have the great movement of the whole population after the flood down the valley of the Euphrates. But they moved in disobedience, keeping together instead of spreading abroad, and ended by the folly of the Tower of Babel. 2. Abram was an emigrant, leaving his own country by Divine command and going to a land he knew not. But his emigration was a work of confidence and obedience, and was accompanied by an untold blessing. 3. Lot emigrated, too, going down to a lovely country. But he asked no Divine direction. The inhabitants of the country were as bad as the country was good, and the end was disaster unspeakable. 4. Jacob, early in life, emigrated. The occasion was his own wrong doing. But it was over-ruled for his own good, and for a means of blessing to after generations. 5. Many generations afterwards the whole nation emigrated, going out from a land of oppression, under Divine guidance, to the land of promise. But as preliminary to this, the old patriarch and his family break up all the ties and associations of a lifetime and are going down to a country as absolutely different from the one in which they have been brought up as it is possible to conceive. But this migration was of God. The first day's journey ended at Beer-Sheba, that famous '• Well of the Oath," so often mentioned in these narratives, and there he offered sacrifices. At every special crisis of Jacob's life he had been favored with a Divine revelation and promise of blessing. So it was at Bethel, on leaving his old home. So it was at Mahanaim, when about to meet his brother. So it is now, as he is on his way to this unknown country of Egypt, in extreme old age, not knowing what may befal him there. He is at the very extremity of the land of Canaan, a land which he intuitively feels, considering his time of life, he can never see again. Looking back with the regret of an old man, he must undoubtedly have felt apprehensioa 230 Jacob and his Fitmily go dozvn to Egypt. on looking forward to the desert which he and all his had to cross. Then it was that the God of his fathers appeared to him "zw the visions of the night" and said, ''Fear not to go dozvn into Egypt y for I xvill there make of thee a great tuition" adding words which strikingly recall the vision of Hethel, "/ zvill go doii>n ivith thee into Egypt, and I ivill surely bring thee up 'Again, and Joseph shall put his hand on thine eyes." So, with the assurance of the Divine presence accompany- ing him, the old man goes on his way, a long train of waggons with him, carrying the goods they had gotten in Canaan, his sons, his sons' wives, their children, and their cattle, and all they had, exactly as the pioneers of the West and the North- West of our own continent made their way slowly acro.ss the plains to the region they desired to settle in. There were sixty-six souls in the train. These, with Joseph, his wife and his two sons, made up the seventy souls, who, by the laws of natural increase, unchecked by war, famine, or emigration, and in a highly fertile district of coun- try, watched over specially by Divine Providence, became the great multitude of the time of the Exodus. As to the objection that so small a number could not pos- sibly attain to so large an increase, let it be considered : — First, that modern calculations and estimates of the time during which these people were in Egypt are mere gue.sses without scientific basis or value. This applies, indeed, in a considerable degree, to all chronological calculations of these early times, which, it must be remembered, are purely human estimates, and form no part of Divine revelation. The only time distinctly mentioned as the period of sojourn is in the revelation to Abraham (Gen. xv 13), where it is stated to be four hundred years. This four hundred years would be amply sufficient, especially under the conditions next mentioned. For, .second, it must be remembered that the period of their sojourn was one of unbroken peace. There was no diminu- tion of numbers, either by war, or by sickness, or by emigra- tion. During the greater part of the period they were free and prosperous. And even when tyranny supervened and most of them were reduced to slavery, the increase of num- bers went on. " The more they afllicted them, the more they multiplied and grezv," a fact which modern experience con- firms as likely to be true. So, then, we see this small company of people arriving in Egypt, r' i-i settling in a district called in the narrative Goschen, which was probably the region lying nearest to the land of Canaan. Through that district has been cut, in modern times, the fresh-water Canal, along the course of which the British troops marched when they encountered and defeated the usurper Arab! at Tel-el-Kebir. In this land of Jacob and his Family go doi\'OU, and bring you again to the land of your fathers." The last scene in the life of this patriarch is striking in the extreme. He gathers his sons about him, and in a series of short but vivid and picturesque sayings, he sketches the char- acter and destiny of themselves and their descendants. His sayings are not all prophecies. Some of them are mere characterizations or descriptions, most vivid and poeti- cal, but not having any special significance for the Church in these times. But those to Judah and Joseph are very signi- ficant ; and the word spoken to the former has never ceased to interest the disciples of the Divine Saviour, as being one of that long series which foreshadowed, in terms more and more clear, the attributes, powers, and properties of that Messiah whose coming into the world was for the " healing of the nations." The reference of the saying to the Messiah is disputed by a certain school of critics in these days ; but then, they dis- pute almost every other of such foreshadowings, even those which are expressly referred to the Messiah by Jesus Christ himself and by his apostles. And not only so, they dispute til -truthfulness of much of the Old Testament record, and especially of the miraculous occurrences therein, forgetting that if a Divine Creator exists at all, which they generally allow. Creation itself, whether instantaneous or gradual, is the most stupendous miracle conceivable, and that it is impossible to set limits to the working of His power who formed a uni- verse. To discredit the narrative of a miracle because it is a miracle, or to say that a prophecy which clearly points to an event that actually came to pass, could not have been written before the event, is to display such a want of sound judgment as to lead to an entire discrediting of the critics themselves. Passing by, then, these doubters and disputers, it is inter- esting to look at the words of the aged patriarch themselves, and see what meaning can naturally and reasonably be attributed to them. Having spoken briefly of Reuben, Simeon and Levi with emphatic reprobation of their former evil doings, the old man passes on to JUDAII, the youngest son of his first wife, Leah. But here the whole style of the language changes. There is no mention of his misdoings, lil 238 Jacobus Last Words and PropJiecy. iri h i \\ I flagrant enough though they had been ; the patriarch is swallowed up in thoughts of exaltation, victory, and dominion. " Thou art he whom thy brethren shall praise ; thou shalt have victory over thine enemies ; thy brethren shall bow down before thee." Then, using bold figures of speech, he speaks of Judah as a " young lion," as a lion in his full strength, and as a lion in old age, whom it is dangerous to " rouse up." After this comes the remarkable saying : — " The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a LAWGIVER FROM BETWEEN FHS FEET, UNTIL ShILOH COME, AND UNTO HIM SHALL THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE BE." Now, then, we have a remarkable opening up of a great future for the descendants of Judah and an equally remarkable close to such future. Various refinements of the meaning of the original words of this declaration have been put forth for the purpose of supporting a theory. But taking the widest varieties of interpretation, they all point to the idea of leadership, rule, and government in one or other of the spheres of life which the descendants of Judah would occupy. Whether it is the " sceptre" of a king, or, as some would have it, the " rod or staff" of a shepherd, the essential idea is the same. And similarly the idea of lawgiver, or as some would interpret it, " teacher or interpreter," is but a variation of the same function of rule and government in the intellectual or spiritual sphere. Respecting the word " SniLOH," which is not translated, and which means giver of rest or peace, peace bringer, peace bestower, there can be no manner of doubt that some important personage is shadowed forth by it. For to him the " gathering of the people," or as some would translate it, " the obedience of the people," is to be, both conveying the same idea in substance, viz., that the rule of this giver of peace is to be wide and extensive, and what is important to be noted, that it is to be voluntarily acquiesced in. But nearly all who have written comments on the original language of this passage, and especially scholars of the Jewish race, have concluded that the idea of the original is best expressed by the language of our own translation, and that the Shiloh is the Messiah that was to come. Thus, then, we have a prophetic vision with regard to this tribe, of long continued sovereignty, leadership, or rule, to be ended by the coming of another peace-giving ruler, to whom the gathering or obedience of the people would be. These words were uttered when the family of Jacob was settled in a foreign country, and when they were all shepherds and herdmen, and hundreds of years before they were numerous enough to return as a nation to the land of Canaan under the guidance of a man, who might have been looked Jacob's Last Words and Prophecy. J39 upon naturally as having the right to be made king, if any man had. But not a word is there during all the long history of Moses, of his desiring or assuming the kingly office. Nor did his great successor Joshua, who, next to Moses, was certainly entitled to such a distinction for his great deeds of generalship and valor in leading the people to occupy the land of Canaan. Never once did Joshua even name such a thing as that he should be made king. There seemed to be a Divin? restraining hand, keeping the leaders of the people within certain bounds and never allowing them to pass beyond them. For neither Moses nor Joshua was of the tribe of Judah. Moses was of the tribe of Levi. Joshua of the tribe of Ephraim. None of the great Judges, such as Gideon, Barak, Jephthah, were of Judah, and none of them ever aspired to be a king. Samuel, the greatest of all, was of the tribe of Levi. Needless to say, he had no such aspiration. Yet it is a singular development that the first king was of the tribe of Benjamin, the tribe which had so close an affinity with Judah as almost to be a part of it. For Jerusalem, which, first under the reign of David, became the national capital, was partly in Benjamin and partly in Judah, and the tribe of Benjamin alone, of all the tribes, clave to Judah in the time of the great revolt. But so predominant was the tribe of Judah that the original kingdom, whose capital was Jerusalem, was always called the kingdom of Judah, and has been so called ever since. The fact, however, that the first king, viz., Saul, was of Benjamin does not contradict the prophecy, which was not that in Judah alone there should be sovereignty, but that the sceptre should long abide with Judah. Now it is certain that when, in the person of David, the sceptre was vested in the tribe of Judah, it continued "•eneration after generation in unbroken descent in a line of kings, nearly all of whom were illustrious both for their goodness and their great qualities. This is in striking contrast with the kings who were set up over the revolted tribes, who were deposed one after another by violence and lawlessness, the sceptre never continuing long in any one family. But in the evil days of ungodliness that ended ni the cap- tivity of Babylon, and for many generations afterwards, there was no kingly rule, properly speaking, either of Judah or any other tribe, and, as is well known, Herod, who was allowed to retain a subordinate sovereignty by the Romans, was not a Jew at all, but an Idumean. Still, whatever leadership there was, and there undoubtedly was some, in the darkest 'days, the tribe of Judah was fore- most in it. It was the men of Judah and Benjamin, as we 240 Jacob's Last Words and Prophecy. \ IN 't '> ' l learn from the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, who, on the return from Babylon, built up, first the ruined Temple, and afterwards the walls of Jerusalem. Nehemiah, the Governor, who exercised all the functions of rule and leadership, was almost certainly of the tribe of Judah. And during the long period respecting which the Canonical Scriptures are silent, it is round the tribes of Judah and Benjamin that all national life gathered from time to time, and it was centred in them in the days when the Saviour of the world was born. This brings us to the chief point of the prophecy, viz., the advent at some distant day of the Shiloh, the Giver of peace or rest, the name being nearly equivalent to the PRINCE OF Pe.VCE spoken of by the prophet Isaiah. Here we are on certain ground. After the lapse of many ages, there was born in Bethlehem, in the tribe of Judah, and of the family of David — who was of the house of Judah — a child who well deserved the appellation of the Shiloh, the giver of Rest, or Peace. His birth was ushered in by a grand angelic chorus, whose strain was, " Peace on Earth and good-will to men." His mission on earth was one to bring peace and rest to the spiritual nature of men by the sacrifice of Himself on the cross. " He made peace by the blood of His cro.ss," said His greatest apostle. His command to His disciples, when .sent out to preach in His name, was to say, " Peace to this house," on entering any habitation. His last legacy to His followers was a message of peace : " Peace I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you." And the benediction pronounced in His name in all assemblies of His disciples throughout the world, even at this day, is, " The Peace of God that passeth all understanding keep your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ." Unlike another great form of faith, which was propagated by the sword, the weapons of the Prince of Peace are spiritual only, such as affect the conscience and intelligence of men. And whenever his followers have resorted to carnal weapons to advance his cause, as they have repeatedly done, as in the Crusades, Dragonades and Albigensian wars, they have been wholly recreant to the spirit of His commands. For, in the visions of prophecy which stretch far out into the future, and whicli anticipate the spreading of His kingdom over the earth, one distinguishing feature is that men shall " beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks, and that they shall learn war no more." And as to the prophecy that to him the " gathering of the people" should be, what could be more closely fulfilled in the life of our Divine Saviour? The crowds gathered about him wherever he went. " AH the world is gone after him," said the priests when conspiring against Him. Jacob's Last Words and Prophecy. 241 But the great fulfilment was after his decease. " I, if I be lifted up," said he, " will draw all men to me," and this drawing has been going on for ages, and is going on now all over the world, beyond all doubt. And the same prophecy assures us that in the time to come all peoples, nations, and languages shall serve Him ! Recurring, then, to the words of the aged patriarch, it must be confessed that they embody one of those striking sayings, not understood by him who spoke them, nor by anyone else at the time, in which, little by little, the coming Messiah was so prefigured that when all the sayings are gathered together they correspond exactly to what actually transpired of His birth, life, death, and everlasting reign. The only other son who is referred to at length is, very naturally, Joseph. But the passage is descriptive rather than prophetic, and pictures in beautiful language the wealth and prosperity of this remarkable son, succeeding a course ot severe persecution. Joseph is a fruitful bough, whose branches run over the wall. And though " shot at by the archers," who grieved him, and hated him, his bow abode in the strength imparted by the Mighty God of Jacob." Then follows an ascription of blessing of the same kind as that which had been spoken of himself, viz., blessings of all temporal wealth, power, enlargement and increase, through all successive generations. Having thus spoken, the old man gave this solemn charge : " I am to be gathered to my people," a phrase which points to a belief that his people, his ancestors, Abraham and Isaac, were still living with God ; and further, " Bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, in the cave that is in the field of Macpelah, in the land of Canaan." " There," he adds, " they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife ; and there I buried Leah." These touching memories of the past crowd upon the old man in his last moments. " And when he had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost " " And," the narrative finally adds, "he was gathered unto h-. people." The extraordinary respect and honor in which Joseph was held is strikingly shown in the honors that were paid to the remains of his father. He was embalmed in the Egyptian manner, a manner that we are perfectly familiar with from the numerous mummies that have been unearthed in our own 242 Jacob's Last Words and PropJiecy. times. And there was a national mourning for him, as for a royal personage of our day. Seventy days of mourning for this aged foreign chief; how strikingly does this testify to the honor and respect which had gathered round this remark- able family ; and how little could Jacob, when spending his early years in tents in the land of Canaan, have dreamed of the manner in which his life would close. But so God had ordained, who knows the end from the beginning. For not only was there a national mourning, but a public funeral. The remains of the old man were carried back to Canaan with great pomp and state ; not only Joseph and his house,, his brethren, and his father's house, but all the ministers of state and the elders of royal family, and a very great array of chariots and horsemen accompanying them. The whole cavalcade halted just on the border of the land of Canaan, for what reason is not stated, and a great scene of mourning and lamentation, lasting many days, was witnessed by the people of the region, who called the place " Abel- mizraim," the " ^lourning of the Egyptians " Then, the sons alone proceeded with the body of their father and laid it in its last resting-place, the cave near Hebron which Abraham had bought long before. So this great patriarch and most remarkable character passes away from the scenes of earthly history ; a history of deep shadows and of bright lights ; the light, however, shining more and more unto the perfect day. And he left a name which stamped itself deep upon the religious life of this people, as the many references to the " GOD OF Jacob" testify, and the many more in which his name stands for a personification of the whole people, while, as to their national life, his new name of IsK.\EL has been the appellation of his descendants in all ages, even down to our own day. i. ■ I* \ I Returning to Egypt, a singular manifestation of distrust is witnessed on the part of the brothers, who feared, now that their father was dead, Joseph might take retributive measures against them. So sensitive is an evil conscience, even when apparently all need for fear has passed away. They took counsel together, and, remembering the great difference in station between themselves and him, they sent a messenger with a dying charge of their father to Joseph (of which we only hear through them), entreating him to forgive them. This they follow up by a personal interview, in which they expressed the deepest contrition and humiliation. The Divine grace which made him the man he was, is strikingly manifest in his behavior to them. He is utterly overcome by their behavior, by their fear, their humility, their repentance, their willingness to be anything, and do Jacob's Last Words and Prophecy. 243 anything. " He wept when they spake to him." And he made a reply which indicated his high-minded generosity, as well as his piety towards God. " Fear not," he said, " Am I in place of God," in this, anticipating the famous saying of after times, " Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord ; mine, that is, and not man's. And he added, " Ye thought evil against me, but God meant it unto good ; to bring it to pass, as it is this day, to save the lives of many people." " Now, therefore," he finally said, " Fear ye not. I will nourish you, and your little ones." " And he comforted them, and spake kindly to them." These are the last recorded words in the active life of Joseph. The famine was still in the land, and many years of active ministration were before him. These, however, are not recorded. They belong rather to the secular history of Egypt than to the spiritual history of these ancestors of the people of Israel. Joseph lived to extreme old age. He was i lo years old when he died, and his grandchildren and great- grandchildren were about him. The last record of him is that when he saw he was about to die, he expressed his solemn faith in the presence and care of Almighty God, who would, he said, " surely visit them and bring them out of Egypt to the land he sivare to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob!' And he took a solemn oath of the children of Israel, probably all the descendants of his father being assembled for the purpose, saying, " God ivill surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence." This charge was religiously observed, for when Moses led the people of Israel out of Egypt we read, " that they carried the bones of Joseph " with them.