LIBRA.RY
Theological Seminary,
PRINCETON, N. J.
^««^' Di.v,is,on^S.l.S35..
^'"'V- Section,C.tlT.
Book, No, S/,^.. .:.......
THE BOOK OF GENESIS
THE
BOOK OF GENESIS
EXPOUNDED IN
A SERIES OF DISCOURSES
BY
EOBEET S. CANDLISH, D.D.
PRrN'CIPAL OF THK NEW COLLEGE, AND MINISTER OF FREE ST. GEORGE'S,
EDINBURGH
NEW EDITION — CAREFULLY REVISED
VOL. IT.
EDINBURGH
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1868
Fritiicd by R. Clark, Edinlurgh.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
XXXVIII, The Beginning of Jacob's Pilgeimage — The
Vision ...... 1
XXXIX. The Beginning of Jacob's Pilgkimage — The Vow 10
XL. Jacob's So.ioukn in Syria — Its General Aspect . 17
XLI. Jacob's Sojourn in Syria — Its Spiritual Mean-
ing . . . . . . . 28
XLI I. Jacob's Sojourn in Syria— Retrospect . . 36
XLIII. Jacob's Sojourn in Syria — The Last Bargain . 46
XLIV. The Parting of Laban and Jacob . . . 53
XLV. The Two Armies — The Fear of Man — The Faith
which Prevails with God . , .63
XLVl. Jacob's Trial Analogous to Job's . . .74
XLVII. The Meeting of JxVcob and Esau— Brotherly Pve-
CONCILIATION ..... 84
XLVIII. Personal Declension — Family Sin and Shame . 93
XLIX. Personal and Family Revival — Mingled Grace
AND Chastisement — An Era in the Patriarch-
al Dispensation . . . . .103
L. A New Era — The Beginning of a ISTew Patri-
archate . . . . . .113
128
138
150
162
VI CONTENTS.
PACK
LI. The Mi.ssiox to Dothax — The Plot — The Sale . 120
LIT. Sinful Axcestey of "The Holy Seed "—Grief ix
Caxaax — Hope in Egypt
IJII. Humiliation and Temptation yet without Sin
LIY. The Suffering Saviour — The Saved and Lost
LY. The End of Humiliation and Beginning of Exalt-
ation ......
LVl. Exaltation — Headship over all — For the Church 171
LVIL Conviction of Sin — Your Sin shall find you out 179
LYITL The Trial and Triumph of Faith . . .194
LIX. The Discovery — Man's Extremity God's Opportu-
nity ....... 205
LX. A True Brother — A Generous King — A Glad
Father . . . . . .219
LXL Faith Quitting Canaan for Egypt — Canaan left
for Judgment ...... 231
LXTL Israel's Welcome in Egypt — To be kept there
till the Time comes .... 242
LXIII. Joseph's Egyptian Policy — Israel's Quiet Rest . 254
LXIY. The Dying Saint's Care for the Body as well as
THE Soul . . . . . . 259
LXY. The Blessing on Joseph's Children — Jacob's Dying
Faith ....... 265
LXYI. Jacob's Dying Prophecy — Judah's Exalted Lot —
Shiloh coming . . . . .275
LXYII. Waiting for the Salvation of the Lord— Seeing
the Salvation of the Lord . . . 285
LXYI II. Close of Jacob's Dying Prophecy — The Blessing
ON Joseph ...... 300
CONTENTS. VU
PAGF.
LXIX. The Death of Jacob — His Character and History 306
LXX. The Burial of Jacob— The Last Scene in Canaan 317
LXXI. Joseph and his Brethren — The Full Assurance
of Reconciliation ..... 327
LXXIL Faith and Hope in Death — Looking from Egypt
TO Canaan ...... 33.5
APPENDIX.
L Observations on the Structure of the Book of
Genesis as a whole ..... 349
IL Supplement to xxi. Volume First . . . 356
XXXVIII.
Genesis xxvii. 41-46 ; xxviii. 1-15.
THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGUIMAGE—
THE VISION. •
Whither shall I flee from thy presence ?— AVhen I awake I am still with
thee. — Psalm cxxxix. 7, 18.
Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who
shall be heirs of salvation ?— Hebrews i. 14.
The divine testimony concerning Esau's state of mind towards
his brother Jacob— his bitter hatred and bloody purpose— is
the most authentic commentary upon his previous conduct ; —
" Esau hated Jacob, because of the blessing wherewith his
father blessed him : and Esau said in his heart, The days of
mourning for my father are at hand ; then will I slay my
brother Jacob" (ver. 41)? Surely if Esau had really been
seeking either true repentance, or any spiritual blessing which
the godly sorrow of true repentance can command, he would
have been humbled for his own sin before God, and anxious
to have a share in the covenant-blessing on any terms that God
might appoint. And towards his brother, he would have
cherished such a sentiment as the oracle from the first should
have awakened; and now much more after even his too
partial father had acquiesced in it. Certainly, it is conclusive
proof against the genuineness of that " repentance " for which
Esau " sought a place, and found none," that he harboured so
deadly a hatred against Jacob, and formed so deliberate a plan
VOL. II. B
2 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB S PILGRIMAGE.
of fratricide. But as in other instances, so here, persecution is
overruled by God for good ; it leads to a more decided separa-
tion of the church from the surrounding idolatrous world.
The violent threatening of Esau is the means of preserving
Jacob from such alliance mth the ungodly as that into which
Esau himself has unhappily fallen. First of all, it brings
Jacob into nearer and more confidential fellowship with God
than he had ever before enjoyed ; shutting him up in the
bonds of a gracious and holy covenant. And then it puts him
in the way of forming a connection somewhat better than
the marriages which Esau had contracted with the daughters
of Heth (xxvi. 34-35 ; xxvii. 46).
The movement towards Jacob's departure from the paternal
roof, originates with his mother. A twofold motive animates
her ; she acts partly under the impulse of natural affection,
and partly also under the guidance of religious behef or
spiritual faith. She would save Jacob from falling a victim
to his brother's anger ; she would save him at the same time
from falling into his brother's sin. The two motives are by
no means incompatible. Kebekah dreads the double bereave-
ment she must experience if Jacob should die by Esau's hand,
and Esau also should die as a murderer, by the hand of the
avenger of blood, or of the Lord himself making " inquisition
for blood." " Why should I be deprived also of you both in
one day 1 " (ver. 42-45). But besides, she perceives the neces-
sity of the chosen family being kept holy and uncontaminated
by heathen admixture : and she feels that the time has come
for a wife being found for Jacob, to be the mother of the pro-
mised seed, not from among the daughters of the land, but
from the kindred out of whom the Lord had so evidently
selected herself as a spouse to Isaac. Hence her suggestion to
her husband ; — " I am weary of my life because of the
daughters of Heth : if Jacob take a wife of the daughters of
Heth, such as these which are of the daughters of the land,
what good shall my life do me 1 " (ver. 46). And hence
THE VISION. 3
Isaac's charge to his younger son ; — " Thou shalt not take a
wife of the daughters of Canaan ; arise, go to Padan-aram, and
take thee a -wife from thence of the daughters of Laban thy
mother's brother " (xxviii. 1, 2). With this charge, — after
receiving anew his father's blessing, — Jacob is sent away
(ver. 3-5).
Stung by the implied reproach cast on him by his parents,
Esau vainly tries to repair his error, and only succeeds in
adding sin to sin by the connection which he forms with the
rejected race of Ishmael ; — " Seeing that the daughters of
Canaan pleased not Isaac his father ; he went unto Ishmael,
and took unto the wives which he had Mahalath the daughter
of Ishmael to be his wife " (ver. 6-9). Under better auspices,
blessed by his aged parent, and led by God himself, Jacob
goes forth on his lonely journey. Surely he goes forth in
faith.
The outward circumstances, indeed, of his departure from
home and his entrance on his solitary pilgrimage, are by no
means such as to indicate or prove the high rank he holds in
the estimate of heaven. Alone and unattended, — flying from
the resentment of his brother, — he finds himself, as darkness
closes in, without house or hut to shelter his weary head. No
dwelling is near ; — no hospitable hand is ready to open the
willing door and spread the welcome couch. Under the broad
roof of the heavenly vault, and on the bare earth, he is fain to
lie down; the wide expanse his chamber, and the rough stone
his pillow (ver. 10, 11). But that night is to be a crisis in his
history. "God found him at Bethel" (Hos. xxii. 4). Now
for the first time, — at least now for the first time decidedly, —
he is to be apprehended, or laid hold of, by the Lord. He
falls asleep on his hard, uncurtained couch ; but it is to awake
as a new man; with new life and energy, and new assurance
of the divine favour and protection. Here, for the first time,
so far as we can gather it from the history, by a formality, not
of man, but of God, Jacob is served heir to the Abrahamic
4 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB S PILGRIMAGE.
covenant, and the birthright-blessing of the Abrahamic family
(ver. 12-15).
The manner, as well as the matter, of this communication
from God to Jacob, is remarkable ; indeed, the manner is even
more so than the matter.
The key to it is to be found in a transaction long subse-
quent,— connected with the opening of our Lord's ministry on
the earth. There can be little or no doubt that it is Jacob's
dream which the Lord has in view when he makes the other-
^vise strange and inexplicable announcement to Nathanael; —
"Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and the angels of God
ascending and descending upon the Son of man" (John i.
50, 51).
Let the circumstances of that memorable interview be con-
sidered. Nathanael is told by Philip that he and some others
have "found him of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets,
did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph " (ver. 45).
Upon this he first interposes the objection, "Can there any
good thing come out of Nazareth?" and then, with the docility
of a candid and earnest mind, he complies with Philip's invita-
tion, "Come and see" (ver. 46). He is somewhat strangely
welcomed; "Jesus saw Nathanael coming to him, and saith of
him. Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile ! " (ver.
47). A salutation like that must have surprised not a little
one whose 'acquaintance Jesus was now for the first time
making. He puts a simple question, and receives a reply that
carries his conviction in a sort of ecstasy of gladness ; —
"Nathanael saith unto him, Whence knowest thou mel Jesus
answered and said unto him, Before that Philip called thee,
when thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee. Nathanael
answered and saith unto him, Eabbi, thou art the son of God ;
thou art the I^ng of Israel" (ver. 48, 49).
What, we may well ask, — what is there in this brief col-
loquy,— to convince Nathanael so quickly, so effectually, so
enthusiastically and joyously?
THE VISION. 5
To say merely that Jesus gave a proof of his omniscience
by referring to the fact of Nathanael having been recently
under his fig-tree, — is by no means satisfactory. It is not to
the accidental circumstance of an ordinary visit to a fig-tree
that the Lord alludes ; in that case, his allusion could scarcely
have told so promptly and powerfully as it did upon Nathanael's
mind. There was more in the hint, as Nathanael himself
evidently caught it up. It was a swift electric and telegraphic
interchange of intelligence between Jesus and this new in-
quirer. Not to the place where Nathanael happened at a par-
ticular time to be, — but to what was then and there passing
in his mind, — does the Searcher of hearts appeal. And there-
fore the appeal comes home with point and efiicacy to the
conscience.
Let it be remembered that " under the fig-tree," was the
oratory or place of prayer, — the " closet," — for a pious Jew in
the middle rank of life ; — whence the sort of proverbial ex-
pression employed to denote a state of tranquillity and religious
freedom : " They shall sit every man under his vine, and
under his fig-tree ; and none shall make them afraid " (Micah
iv. 4). In that genial climate, and with the scanty accommo-
dation furnished in their ordinary dwellings, the grateful shade
of the vine or the fig-tree in the garden might be resorted to,
as was also the enclosed house-top, for the purposes of secret
prayer and meditation ; and we can scarcely doubt that it is
to an exercise of that sort that our Lord alludes, when his
allusion carries such swift conviction to Nathanael's soul : —
"When thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee." I saw
what thou wast doing ; I saw what was passing in thy mind.
And it is upon the ground and warrant of what then and there
I saw in thee, that upon thy very first coming to me I pro-
nounce the sentence which not unnaturally surprises thee so
much : — " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile ! "
But there must have been something special in Nathanael's
exercise of soul under the fig-tree, to wliich the Lord so signi-
6 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRBIAGE.
ficantly points ; and there is one hypothesis which seems to
possess no inconsiderable amount of inherent probability.
Let it be supposed that it was the thirty- second psalm that
had been engaging Nathanael's devout thoughts. He has been
passing through some such experience as the psalmist in that
psalm describes. There has been previously a season of de-
cline in his spiritual life; there has been more or less of
reserve in his intercourse with God. Especially in regard to
sin, — either the general sin of his heart and life, or some spe-
cific sin in particular, — he has been restraining confession and
prayer ; excusing perhaps and justifying himself. " Going
about to establish a righteousness of his own," he has been
dealing unfairly and deceitfully with the holy law of his God,
as well as with his own guilt and corruption ; trjdng to soothe
his soul by means of palliatives, — to pacify his conscience with
the usual opiates that lull worldly men asleep. But he has
not succeeded ; in very mercy, God has not suffered him to
find rest. He has been harassed by misgivings and fears,
until he has been constrained to try " a more excellent way ;"
the way of an unreserved unburthening of his whole heart to
God. He has been driven to confession, and the simple,
child-like, utterance of all his wants and all his griefs.
Such had been David's experience. " When I kept silence,
my bones waxed old, through my roaring all the day long.
For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me : my moisture
is turned into the drought of summer." Then I changed my
plan. " I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity
have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto
the Lord ; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin."
It is in the fulness of that instant and glad relief which
he found in unbosoming his whole soul to God, that David
pours out the burst of grateful joy Avith which the psalm be-
gins,— connecting the assured pardon of sin with the entire
abandonment of all reserve, — " Blessed is he whose transgres-
sion is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto
THE VISION. 7
whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit
there is no guile" (ver. 1, 2).
Let us say that in the soul-exercise under the fig-tree of
which our Lord shows himself to have been cognisant, Natha-
nael had just been brought to the precise point to which the
psalmist came ; that self-convicted and self-condemned he had
come to the conclusion, — " I will confess my transgressions
unto the Lord ; " — seeing nothing for it but a frank and full
casting of himself on the mercy of his God. Then, what
an adaptation to his case, — what a word in season, — what a
message of peace directed personally and pointedly to himself,
— might his broken and contrite spirit recognise in the testi-
mony of Jesus, — " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no
guile " — applied as it was to a scene which none but the
Searcher of hearts could know ! And calling instantly to mind
the connection in which the emphatic condition of guileless-
ness stood, in that experimental psalm, with the full and free
forgiveness of all iniquity, — how must he have exulted in the
assurance thus indirectly, but only on that account the more
effectually, conveyed to him of pardon, acceptance, and peace !
"Be of good cheer, Nathanael, thy sins are forgiven thee!"
With what unutterable emotions of relief, gratitude, and joy,
must he have hailed this Omniscient One, so evidently having
power on earth to forgive sins ; — "Rabbi, thou art the Son of
God ; thou art the King of Israel" (John l 49).
Now, it is to Nathanael, thus convinced and thus quickened,
that Jesus addresses the stimulating appeal : " Because I said
unto thee, I saw thee under the fig-tree, believest thou ? thou
shalt see greater things than these" (ver. 50). And it is as a
sequel to this blessed negotiation of forgiveness and peace that
he introduces the promise so plainly borrowed from the record
of Jacob's vision ; — " Verily, verily, I say unto you, Hereafter
ye shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and
descending upon the Son of man" (ver. 51).
Here, therefore, we have the interpretation of the vision.
8 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRIMAGE.
The angels ascending and descending upon the Son of man
represent the restored intercourse between heaven and earth
which his mediation secures. The guileless believer not merely
obtains the forgiveness of sin, — tasting "the blessedness of
the man to whom the Lord imputeth righteousness without
works" (Rom. iv. 6). " Being justified by faith, he has peace
with God through Jesus Christ his Lord, by whom also he has
access into that grace wherein he stands" (Rom. v. 1, 2).
He has an insight into the unseen economy that now knits
heaven and earth in one ; and enjoys the benefit of that
friendly commerce of reconciliation, love, and confidence, that
upon the ladder of mediation is ever kept up, between the
throne on high where the Son now sits and the simple heart
of the poor smitten sinner here below, who has been converted
and has become guileless as a little child.
But not only may we interpret Jacob's vision by the
Lord's allusion to it in the promise given by him to Nathanael.
We may not unreasonably carry back with us what we have
gathered as to Nathanael's previous exercise of soul that it
may throw light on Jacob's state of mind, during the night he
passed on the bare ground and stony pillow at Bethel.
It is something more, as I cannot but think, than a plaus-
ible conjecture — that Jacob may have been undergoing an ex-
perience very similar to that of David and Nathanael, when
he beheld what the Lord intimates that it would be the high
privilege of Nathanael also to see. He leaves his home, as we
may but too truly assume, not only with guilt on his con-
science, but also with guile in his spirit. His sin has not yet
found him out. He has been justifying himself and blaming
others. Standing upon his divine title to the birthright-
blessing in a self-righteous frame of mind, he has been
insensible to the evil of that sad train of cruelty and craft
which has made his father's household so unhappy, and in
which, from first to last, he has himself had so great a share.
And so long as he has been buoyed up by his mother's
THE VISION. 9
sympathy and his own repeated successes in his schemes, he
has felt little sorrow and little shame for all that has taken
place. But it is altogether otherwise now. He is alone ;
and the hand of God is heavy upon him. His dream of
self-confidence and self-complacency is at an end. ffis sin is
now " ever before him." He can restrain his voice no longer
from confession and prayer. He can no longer " keep silence."
He can but say ; — " I will confess my transgressions unto the
Lord ! " And may it not be that, through the gracious inter-
position of the blessed Spirit applying to his now opened wounds
the healing balm of the gospel of peace, he has cause
immediately to add : — " And thou forgavest the iniquity of
my sin]" May not this have been the manner of the Lord's
dealing with him, and the course of his own experience, as
preliminary and preparatory to the \dsion on which the promise
to Nathanael is based ; " Hereafter ye shall see heaven open ; "
— not opened occasionally, now and then, but open always ; —
so open always that, not at any particular Bethel, but anywhere
and everywhere, " ye msiy see the angels of God ascending and
descending upon the Son of man."
10 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRIMAGE.
XXXIX.
Genesis xxviii. 16-22.
THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRIMAGE— THE VOW.
Vow, and pay unto the Lord yoiir God : let all that he round about him
bring presents unto him that ought to be feared. — Ps. Ixxvi. 11.
It would seem that this was the first occasion on which
Jacob was recognised, directly and personally from heaven,
as the successor of Abraham and the representative of the
chosen seed. His mother had received an oracular intimation
at his birth ; and his father had been led at last to bestow
upon him the patriarchal blessing. But this midnight trans-
action is Jacob's formal inauguration, by God himself, into
the high and holy j)osition of the child of the promise.
Henceforth Isaac is as one virtually dead ; the entire rights
and responsibilities bound up in the Abrahamic line of descent
being transferred to Jacob.
There is a growing clearness in the divine utterances con-
cerning Jacob which is worthy of a passing notice. The
oracular announcement to Kebekah is vague enough ; and
even the two benedictions pronounced upon him by his father
Isaac are by no means very explicit. The distinctive promise
in the one is simply that of superiority over his brother (xxvii.
19); with the accompanying assurance that to bless or to curse
him is to be a test of men's minds, such as the Lord's own
advent afterwards was declared to be (Luke ii. 34, 35). In the
other benediction, again, the point of the promise turns upon
these few and general words : " God Almighty give thee the
THE VOW. 11
blessing of Abraham" (xxviii. 4). Now, however, the Lord
himself renews with him the Abrahamic covenant in all its
breadth and fulness (ver. 13-15). Favoured in such circum-
stances with such a vision, and receiving so gracious a renewal
of the covenant, Jacob might well awake with a vivid sense
of the divine presence ; — " Surely the Lord is in this place,
and I knew it not. How dreadful is this place ! this is none
other but the house of God, and tliis is the gate of heaven"
(ver. 16, 17). And he might well accompany his awakening
not only with a solemn act of dedication, turning his stony
pillow into a sacred memorial, and calling the place Bethel (ver.
18, 19), but also with a solemn acknowledgment of obligation.
Accordingly " Jacob vowed a vow, saying. If God mil be with
me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me
bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my
father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be my God : and
this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God's house :
and of all that thou shalt give me, I will surely give the
tenth unto thee" (ver. 20-22).
I. This vow, or covenant, is a strong confirmation of the
opinion already indicated, that the night of Jacob's sojourn
at Bethel was the era of his new birth, or of his spiritual
awakening to an apprehension of the unseen world, and of
his own position with regard to it. We seem to have here
the instinctive impulse of the new creature, under the
regenerating or reviving influence of the Spirit. Snatched
from impending ruin, which now for the first time he has in
some measure adequately discerned, — tasting the fresh glad-
ness of unlooked-for hope in the visit of the great deliverer
who has so seasonably interposed to relieve him, — he can
scarcely pause to collect his bewildered thoughts ; — so eager
is he, and so impatient, to bind himself by new obligations,
or, at least, by a new and formal recognition of obligations
that have been overlooked before. Nor is it mere impulse
that prompts such a step at such a crisis ; it is dictated also by
12 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRIMAGE.
sober reason. Conscious of weakness and fearful of tempta-
tion, the new convert, or the newly recovered backslider, feels
a kind of security in the entire and absolute committal of him-
self which a vow or covenant implies. It is like burning his
ships, now that he has landed on the shore where the onward
march is to be ordered and the battle is henceforth to be
fought. Being irrevocably pledged, as by military oath, he has
nothing for it but to press manfully on, till his faitlifulness
unto death win for him the crown of life. Thus discretion, as
well as enthusiasm, may recommend a covenant or vow.
II. But the vow must be made in faith ; and this faith
must characterise equally the motive, the matter, and the
object of the vow. Thus, as to the motive, — to be either
lawful or expedient, the vow must be an expression, not of
future, contingent, and conditional compliance, but of present
trust, absolute and unreserved. Vows made in a spirit of
superstition or self-righteousness, — as if man might stipulate
or make terms with the Sovereign Lord of all, are impious
and vain. Again, the matter of the vow, — the thing vowed, —
that which I bind myself by covenant to render to my God,
— must be of his own selection, not mine. To think that I
may go beyond what God himself requires in my voluntary
vow, is to assume the attitude, not of a debtor to grace and
a dependant upon grace, — but of one in a position to lay God
himself under obligation, and almost gain an advantage over
him. Nor must it be any selfish end that I seek in my vow ;
not mere relief from some impending calamity or exemption
from some unwelcome service ; far less any compromise of
the spiritual affection and hearty loyalty and love which I
owe to my God.
The vow of Jacob will stand these tests ; especially when
considered in connection with the position in which he was
when he made it. To some readers, it is true, it may seem as
if the language used by him indicated doubt, and some dis-
position to make terms with God — rather than faith, and an
THE VOW. 13
acquiescence in the terms already made by God with him.
The apparently conditional form of the vow, and the apparent
postponement of what is vowed, may occasion to their minds
some little difficulty. But in reality there is no ground for it.
As to the first point, the form of expression — " If God will
be with me, and will" do so and so — does not necessarily
imply contingency or suspense ; on the contrary, it denotes
the absolute certainty of the conviction upon the faith of which
the vow proceeds. The particle "if" often bears the sense
of " since," or " forasmuch as ;" instances in proof might be
multiplied indefinitely (Rom. viii 17 ; Gal. iv. 7 ; Phil. ii. 1 ;
Coloss. ii. 20 ; iii. 1, etc.) In the case before us, we may
confidently gather from the correspondence between the Lord's
promise (ver. 15), and Jacob's recital of it (ver. 20), that the
meaning of his vow is not, "If it shall turn out that God is
with me," as if Jacob considered that blessing to be still un-
certain ; but " if it be so," or " since it is so," that " God will
be with me." It is not the language of scepticism but of
faith ; faith echoing and appropriating the pledge which God
had given. Yea ! hath God said that he " will be with me,
and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread
to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my
father's house in peace!" (ver. 20, 21). Can it be? Is this,
in truth, his communication to me ? Then, if so — that being
the case — however beyond all expectation and all belief such
goodness manifested to such an one as I am may be — I hesi-
tate, I doubt no more. I take thee, 0 Lord, at thy word.
And as thou givest thyself in covenant to thy servant, so in
the bonds of the same covenant I venture to give myself to
thee!
Then again, as to the other point, affecting the matter as
well as the manner of the vow, it is unquestionably a prospec-
tive engagement under which Jacob binds himself. He is
anticipating — not however doubtfully but in lively hope — the
actual accomplishment of what God had been pleased to pro-
14 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRIMAGE.
mise. And he is simply owning beforehand what will then
be his duty, and pledging himself to its discharge. When the
Lord shall have fulfilled all that he has said, as to his care of
me in the way that I go, and as to my return to my father's
house in peace, what will be the fitting return of gratitude for
me then and in these circumstances to offer 1 Wiat the pecuhar
obhgation under which I must then feel myself to lie 1 Am I
then to be wanting in a suitable acknowledgment 1 Nay, then
more than ever " the Lord shall be my God." And in token
rather of his faithfulness to me, than of my loyalty and love to
him, " this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God's
house : and of all that thou shalt give me, I will surely give
the tenth unto thee " (ver 22).
Such is the real import of this transaction between Jacob
and his God — corresponding and fitly answering to the previ-
ous transaction between his God and him. The two are con-
nected as cause and effect : they stand in the relation of ante-
cedent and consequent to one another. Jacob's act is the re-
sponse of faith to the divine promise. Because thou. Lord,
dealest graciously, and hast dealt graciously, and dost promise
to deal graciously in all time to come, with thy most undeserv-
ing servant, therefore, with thy help, I also will deal truly and
faithfully with thee. Thy covenant with me is sure : let my
vow to thee also stand. Surely a better model of a spiritual
and evangelical vow is nowhere to be found than that which
the rude pillar was to attest and commemorate at Bethel.
III. The service which Jacob here performed had its ac-
companying external rites. A hastily-constructed altar was
made of the stone on which he had laid his head ; and, in de-
fault of other sacrifice, — for he who erelong was to pass again
that way with flocks and herds enough and to spare, had not
a kid or a lamb that he could call liis own, — oil was poured
upon the stone (ver. 18). A new name also was given to
the spot, to make it ever memorable in after years — Bethel,
or the house of God — a name destined to sur\dve some notable
THE VOW. 15
revolutions (ver. 19). The Canaanites, when they built a city
there — for in Jacob's time it was a mere field — ignorant or
careless of the patriarch's intention, gave it the appellation of
Luz. But the Israelites, on their taking possession of the land,
carried out the patriarch's purpose, and called the place once
more Bethel.
These external and formal accomi3animents this vow had.
And it may be noted that, being better remembered and under-
stood than the covenant itself, they became afterwards a snare.
The stone set up, with the oil poured on it, was probably one
occasion, among others, of that aggravated kind of idolatrous
worship which consisted in adoring, with abominable rites,
anointed pillars like that of Jacob. And the superstitious
regard paid in after years to the mere name and locality of
Bethel, so moved the indignation of the holy prophet that he
gave it — instead of Bethel, or house of God — the ignominious
and contemptuous nickname of Beth-aven, or house of
vanity (Hos. iv. 15; Amos v. 5). But apart from
the formalities of Jacob's simple ritual, — so simple that
one might have thought it scarcely possible ever to mis-
understand or pen^ert it, — the essence of this transaction
is not ceremonial, but altogether spiritual and moral; and its
spirit is not legal, but on the contrary highly evangelical.
It is in fact the very type and model of the believer's con-
secration of himself, — vvith all that he now has, all that he
ultimately hopes for, and all that he may receive by the way,
— to the Lord. His person, as accepted in the beloved, is to
be the Lord's. His final inheritance is to be to the praise of
the glory of God. The very stone that upheld his weary head
when the Lord first visited him in mercy upon earth, wiU be
ever freshly anointed for praising God continually when he
reaches his home in heaven. Every cross he has borne, as well
as every deliverance he has experienced, vvill have its own
song to be sung in it as in a consecrated temple. And the whole
will be one everlasting hallelujah to the Lamb that was slain.
16 THE BEGINNING OF JACOB'S PILGRBIAGE — THE VOW.
Meanwhile, between his present acceptance and the coming
rest, he casts himself on the providence of his God ; and what-
ever may be the amount of the Lord's liberality, he offers a
pledge and proof of his accounting all that is given to him by
the Lord to belong to the giver alone, by freely devoting to
holy purposes such a portion of his time, his talents, and his
substance, as may afford evidence of his holding the whole
from God and for God — evidence which shall be at least
equally conclusive with the literal tithing of all that he has.
JACOB S SOJOURN IN SYRIA — ITS GENERAL ASPECT. 1 '
XL.
JACOB'S SOJOUEN IN SYRIA— ITS GENERAL ASPECT.
Genesis xxix.-xxxi.
And Jacob fled into the country of Syiia ; and Israel served for a wife,
and for a wife he kept sheep. — Hosea xii, 12.
The exact meaning and object of Hosea's reference to Jacob's
flight from Canaan, and his sojourn and service in Syria, are
not very obvious. The style of that Prophet is abrupt; his
transitions are often rapid, and his allusions brief and sudden.
In this chapter, he is apparently contrasting the present sunken
state of Israel with its former greatness, and the place which
it once occupied in the divine regard. To give point and
vividness to his representation of the past, he selects incidents
in the early history of the nation, and especially in the life of
the father of its twelve tribes. He reminds the people of the
power vfhich Jacob had to prevail over the angel, as well as of
the Lord's gracious acknowledgment of him at Bethel (ver.
3, 4) ; and he exhorts them to make trial for themselves of the
divine faithfulness ; — " Therefore turn thou to thy God : keep
mercy and judgment, and wait on thy God continually"
(ver. 6). Then, after a solemn reproof of their iniquity, —
their deceit and oppression, — their pride and self-righteousness
(ver. 7, 8) ; and a renewed intimation of the Lord's purpose of
mercy (ver. 9-11); as if in confirmation of that intimation, he
brings in again this other passage in Jacob's experience, his
flight and servitude. And he contrasts with it the great
VOL. XL C
18 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
national deliverance long afterwards wrought out by the hand of
Moses; — "Jacob fled into the country of Syria, and Israel served
for a wife, and for a wife he kej^t sheep. And by a prophet
the Lord brought Israel out of Egypt, and by a prophet was
he preserved" (ver. 12, 13). Thus over against Jacob's suffer-
ing of reproach and oppression, the prophet sets, — not Jacob's
own escape from Syria, — but, as answering his purpose better,
the deliverance of his descendants out of Egypt. In Jacob's
degradation, Hosea sees the type, and as it were, the beginning
of Israel's bondage. He fitly therefore passes at once, in the
way of contrast, to the crowning interposition by which that
bondage was ended. And he does so, that his countrymen
may on the one hand be brought low, in the remembrance of
Jacob's being brought low, and may, on the other hand, be
moved to return to the Lord ; believing that " he is the Lord
their God from the land of Egypt " (ver. 9), and that there is
no saviour besides him.
Such is the connection in which the prophet's allusion to
Jacob's Syrian experience stands ; and such its fitness, taken
along with the accompanying allusion to the Exodus, at once
to humble the people under a sense of their degradation, and
to lead them anew to repentance.
Before going into a detailed examination of the incidents
of Jacob's sojourn in Syria, it may be useful to suggest a few
general considerations regarding it, which must be borne in
mind all through the narrative.
I. In the view of the romantic adventures which Jacob
met with, and the spirit and manner in which he met with
them, in the country of his exile, it is important to bear in
mind his singularly strange position as he left his paternal
home.
Compare Jacob's lot with that of his father Isaac. There
was no question in Abraham's house as to the title of Isaac
to inherit the birthright j there was no misunderstanding on
ITS GENERAL ASPECT. 19
that point between Isaac's parents. Abraham and Sarah
were at one in owning him as the child and heir of the
promise. And when it was needful to find a mfe for Isaac,
that the covenanted line might be prolonged, there was
no proposal made to send him away. He was not des-
tined to be an adventurer, taking his chance of success in life,
as well as of a partner for better and for worse to share it.
His piety, which was both of early growth and of mature
strength, had no family jars or jealousies to contend with ;
and the even tenor of his quiet domestic life was for the most
part unbroken.
Very different is his son Jacob's entrance into the world,
and the world's busy strife. He goes from home a fugitive,
with a wide commission to push his fortune and seek a wife,
in what had been once indeed the country of his fathers, but
was now to him a strange land. And he goes with a home ex-
perience and home life but little calculated to keep alive the
home feeling abroad.
In the home which he is leaving, there ought to have
been no room for misunderstanding ; the oracle of God which
preceded and announced the birth of Isaac's two sons, should
have made strife impossible. The recognition of Jacob, as the
heir, in terms of that oracle, and on the ground of that sub-
mission to the sovereign decree of God which it demanded,
would have obviated all risk of domestic rivalry and partizan-
ship, and ensured peace and order in the household. But
Isaac's favouritism for Esau, which blinded him to the divine
purpose preferring Jacob, — and Eebekah's favouritism for
Jacob, which was too much of the same carnal or merely
natural sort, — led Jacob to use subtlety in the purchase of the
birthright, and issued in the last melancholy plot. Isaac's
unbelief, disregarding the divine oracle, and in spite of it
treating Esau as the heir ; and Eebekah's unbelief, aiming at
the fulfilment of the oracle by means of her own policy, are
alike fitted to have an evil effect on Jacob's moral nature
20 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
From first to last, it was a poor training tliat the chosen son
and heir had in the house of his parents.
And now, suddenly, we find him far away from home.
He carries with him, no doubt, his father's blessing, twice
repeated ; the first time pronounced unwittingly — his father
intending it for Esau — the second time given expressly and
unequivocally. But this late recognition of him as the heir,
wrung so reluctantly from his father, and given, too, in imme-
diate connection with his mother's trembling haste to get him
out of the reach of his brother's vengeance, could not undo the
mischief of an education under influences and associations
very difi"erent from those which, in holy and happy homes,
minister to the growth of a manly character, and the due
development of truth and love. Certainly, the school in
which he has been brought up has had in it too much of
the world's craft and jealousy, and too little of honour-
able, not to say heavenly, singleness of eye and generous
warmth of heart. And his own natural disposition being
originally, as we may suppose, inclined rather to a quiet than
an active life, — inclined consequently to diplomacy rather
than to daring and adventure, — he has had a home-training
but too congenial to his constitutional temperament, and too
well fitted to nurse and foster his tendency to aim at success
in his enterprises, — by art rather than by arms, — by cunning
stratagem, rather than by manly openness and boldness.
II. Thus born and bred he is thrown upon the world ;
experienced enough, — alas ! more than enough, — in domestic
intrigues and broils ; but as regards the world's ways, rude
and raw as any of those " home keeping youths " who, as the
poet says, "have ever homely wits," And the world on
which he is thrown is more than a match for him.
Laban, its representative and type, is the impersonation
of worldly shrewdness and unscrupulousness. In the family
of such an uncle, Jacob is tempted, by the very craftiness and
cold selfishness of the kinsman with whom he has to deal, to
ITS GENERAL ASPECT. 21
try a game of policy. From first to last, as we may say, it is
diamond cut diamond — Greek meeting Greek ; a trial of skill
— a keen encounter of wits.
The record of it is not pleasant ; it is a painful narrative
of subtlety and sin. The elder of the two players has for a
long time, as it would seem, the best of the game. The
veteran man of the world out-manoeuvres more than once his
less experienced relative. In the end the tables are turned.
Jacob rights himself, and he is, as I think the history indicates,
divinely taught and authorised to do so. But it is not a
satisfactory issue ; it is too much like the extrication of an
overreached man out of an ugly scrape, — the rescuing of him,
not too creditably, out of the hands of a partner or customer,
whose cool cunning has proved too much for him.
Can we doubt that it would have been better for Jacob if
he had dealt with Laban throughout more frankly and more
boldly ? He might have entered his kinsman's house, not as
one needing to be hired and to receive wages, but as the heir
of the promise, on the faith of which his great ancestor
Abraham had left these parts for a better portion in Canaan.
He did not come to buy a wife by years of servitude. He
knew well how his mother Rebekah, this Laban's sister, had
been wooed and won for his father Isaac. The confidence and
courage of good old Eliezer in courting a wife for Isaac might
have inspired Jacob with the like confidence and courage in
courting a wife for himself He was entitled to take high
ground, as the son and heir of Isaac and of Abraham. He
might have made his demand to be at once acknowledged in
that character. He had his commission and his credentials,
with their blessing, from both his parents.
More than that, he had warrant and witness from above.
A vision and a voice from heaven had owned him as proprie-
tor of the promised land and father of the promised seed.
Fresh from the scene at Bethel, — strong in the faith there
begotten or revived, — he might have avowed his rank and
22 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
destiny, on his first introduction to Laban's household. And
not as a mendicant wanderer, at Laban's mercy, and fain to
take service with him on any terms ; but as the heaven-des-
tined and heaven-declared inheritor of the covenant birthright
and covenant blessing, he might have proclaimed the errand on
which he came, and asked at once the spouse of his choice with
as simple a trust in his God as that which Abraham's servant
had manifested long years ago.
Surely if Jacob had behaved thus, in keeping and consist-
ency with his position, as it was attested by the Lord at
Bethel, and accepted by himself in the vow which he so
solemnly made, — things might have turned out far otherwise
than they did. Even worldly Laban might have been so awed
or won, as to respect the man whom God honoured, and who
honoured God. He might never have thought of proposing
meanly to barter for hired service a hospitality which, on such
a footing, Jacob would have refused to accept at the hands
even of his mother's brother. The unworthy trick of substi-
tuting Leah for Eachel ; the guilt of the double marriage, with
its consequent polygamy and domestic profligacy ; the thrice
repeated change of wages ; the plan for redressing the wrong
by securing the strongest of the flock ; the furtive flight ; the
pursuit ; the discreditable incidents of the meeting when
Laban overtook Jacob ; and the questionable truce or compro-
mise which ended their connection ; all, perhaps, might have
been avoided ; and a very diff'erent course of mutual confidence
and esteem might have marked the history ; — if Jacob, in his
intercourse with his uncle and his uncle's house, had acted less
as the timid and temporising man of expedients, — the politic
man of the world, — and more as the acknowledged friend of
God, — the believing child of believing Abraham, — the heir of
the covenant that is by faith.
The whole history of Jacob's sojourn in Laban's country,
is an illustration of the mischief and misery resulting from an
opposite line of conduct. He certainly but ill sustains the
ITS GENERAL ASPECT. 23
character of one favoured with such heavenly communications
as had so recently been granted to him. His solemn vow is
too little in his mind. He accommodates himself far too easily
to the world in which he lives, learns too well its lessons, and
becomes too familiar with its ways. A second gracious vision,
and a long night of severe wrestling with the Lord (xxxii.), as
well as also a fresh visit to Bethel (xxxv.), are needed to rid
the patriarch of his Syrian tastes and tendencies, and revive
his soul again for his pilgrimage and walk with God in
Canaan.
III. The redeeming feature in the picture of Jacob's life at
Padan-aram, otherwise far from pleasing, is his love for Rachel.
It was of quick growth ; but it was strong, and it lasted long.
When he serves for her, the seven years seem to him but a few
days for the love he has to her. When she dies in childbed, his
affection touchingly appears. He will not give her child a
name of grief, but one almost of joy ; not Benoni, son of my
sorrow, but Benjamin, son of my strength. He would have
associated with his beloved, when she is gone, no word of evil
omen, but rather a token for good. And how he cherished
her memory is evident from what might seem a trifling cir-
cumstance in his parting interview with Joseph (xlviii).
The old man is sick and dying. He strengthens himself,
however, to welcome his favourite child once more. He sits
up on his bed to bless Joseph and Joseph's sons. As he pro-
ceeds in blessing them, the image of Joseph's mother, his much-
loved Eachel, is before him. He interrupts his speech to tell
how, " when he came from Padan, Rachel died by him in the
land of Canaan in the way, and how he buried her at Beth-
lehem" (ver. 7).
What has that to do with the matter in hand 1 Rachel's
death and burial have no bearing on the blessing which Jacob
is conveying to Joseph, and Ephraim, and Manasseh.
But the old man's heart is full. Something in Joseph's
look, — some trace or lineament of his mother's pale fair face
24 JACOB'S SOJOURX IN SYRIA.
as he last saw her, travailing and expiring, — brings back the
sad scene to the patriarch's dim eye. Simply, as if almost
unconsciously, he gives utterance to his recollection. And
ha\4ng paid this last tribute to one he loved so dearly, he
calmly resumes the interrupted thread of his benediction.
There is something, to my mind, irresistibly affecting in
this proof, so natural and incidental, so true and tender, of the
hold which Eachel had of Jacob's heart. It constrains one to
exclaim — Behold how he loved her.
Oh ! that this love had been allowed to reign alone in
Jacob's home, pure from the contamination of polygamy and
concubinage ! So one is apt to wish. And one is apt to
think that if Jacob had been left to himself, to take his own
way, it might possibly have been so. Jacob might have been
happy with Eachel alone, as Isaac was with Eebekah. His
household might have been a pattern of wedded faithfulness
and affection, and his seed might have been all holy. It was
not his own choice, but Laban's craft, that imposed upon him
Leah. It was sad sisterly jealousy, the natural fruit of so
melancholy a partnership, that introduced to him his concu-
bines. But it is vain to speculate on what might have been
Jacob's family history, if he had been more fairly treated,-- by
others, or had done more justice to himself The history, as
it actually unfolded itself, is before us ; and it is written for
our learning. It is a history of error and sin on every side.
All parties are culpable. And the emphatic moral of the
whole is surely this ; that any deviation at all, upon any plea,
from the primeval law of marriage, ordaining the union of one
man with one woman only, is fatal to domestic purity and
domestic peace ; that there can be neither holiness nor happi-
ness in the house in which that law is set at nought ; and that
the word of the Lord, by the mouth of the Prophet Malachi,
denouncing the man Avho violates the marriage ordinance of
God, stands irrevocable and sure ; " Did not he make one ■? "
one single pair, in Eden, one woman for one man. " Yet had
ITS GENERAL ASPECT. 25
he the residue of the Spirit " — the spirit of life. Had it so
pleased him, he might have made more. But he made only-
one. " And wherefore one 1 " and one only. " That he
might seek a godly seed." " Therefore take heed to your
spirit, and let none deal treacherously against the wife of his
youth" (ii. 14, 15).
Some practical lessons may be suggested here.
1. The influence of home training, home habits, home
associations, — how deep and lasting is it ! If that influence
is unfavourable to the cultivation of honourable principles and
kindly aff'ections, — if it fosters the development of evil passions
and low arts of deceit, — how may it, in after life, eat as a
canker into the very heart even of a sincere Christian pro-
fession ! Conversion itself may not undo the evil. The child
whom you send out from home may be a child of God when
you send him ; or he may become a child of God at some
Bethel after he has left your roof. But if, through the sad
infirmity of parents, perhaps of godly parents, or through the
faults of rude brothers or unkind sisters, he has become
familiar with strife, disorder, and cunning craftiness, — his
character may have got a taint, his moral nature a bias, which
may not indeed hinder his being converted and becoming a
Christian, but which, even after conversion, may stunt the
growth of his Christianity, and cause it to wear an aspect the
reverse of amiable or honourable in the eyes of those before
whom he should be " adorning the doctrine of God his Saviour
in all things." How important, in this view, is it that the
home in which youth is bred, be a home of pure peace, and
truth, and love ; a home of frank manliness, where every eye
" beams keen with honour; " a home of genial souls and warm
hearts ; a home of gratitude, of gladness, and of joy. Oh !
let the boy and girl you send out into a cold, cruel, deceitful
world, have no coldness, cruelty, deceit, at home, on which to
look back as having fashioned their characters beforehand too
much in harmony with that world's ways. Send them forth
26 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
with a substratum of such manly honesty, and womanly truth
and tenderness, as will recoil instinctively from all that is
mean, — all that is selfish or false. Let it be seen in them,
Avherever they go, what sons and daughters can be reared for
God's service, and their country's, in a Christian's pure and
peaceful home.
2. How needful is it for Christians to know and vindicate
their true position in all their intercourse mth the world and
with worldly men ; to live always fully up to their Bethel ex-
periences, their Bethel privileges, their Bethel obligations,
their Bethel "vdsions, prayers, and vows. They gain nothing
by gi^vdng in to any churlish Laban, accepting his terms,
accommodating themselves to his ways. Enter into no house,
brother, sit at no table, form no intimacy, contract no alliance,
otherwise than as avowedly a Cliristian man, determined by
God's grace to act out thoroughly your Christianity. Ah !
you are apt enough to be drawn into worldly conformity, even
w^hen you have your Christian standing most clearly in your
view. But how much is the danger increased when you mix
with men, and do business or take pleasure mth them ; they
not recognising your Christianity ; and alas ! you making it
but too plain that for the time you have almost ceased to
recognise it yourself.
3. " Hail Avedded love," sings our divine poet ; and his
strain is in highest accordance with the mind and heart of
God. " Eejoice with the wife of thy youth. Let her be as
the loving hind and pleasant roe. Be thou ra^dshed always
with her love." Yes, it is a holy ordinance, a blessed institu-
tion, which makes man and wife no more twain but one flesh.
Oh ! then, what vile ingratitude is there, — what foul shame,
— in all that tends to make that ordinance void, — the ordin-
ance on which all the charities of life hang, — around which all
its best blessings cluster. Who art thou, who under wdiatever
pretence, or for whatever end, darest, most unthankful as thou
art, to treat this ordinance with contempt, to set it aside, to
' ITS GENERAL ASPECT. 27
turn it into an affair of traffic instead of a bond of love, or to
countenance practices with which it is incompatible 1 Hast
thou no fear of the vengeance of that God whose best earthl}^
gift thou art abusing 1 Wilt thou not hear his word 1 " Mar-
riage is honourable in all, and the bed undefiled ; but whore-
mongers and adulterers" — whatever men may think or say
of them — " God will judge" (Heb. xiii. 4).
JACOB S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
XLI.
JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA— ITS SPIRITUAL
MEANING.
Genesis xxix.
And Jacob fled into the country of Syria ; and Israel served for a wife,
and for a wife he kept sheep. — Hosea xii. 12.
IHE transition, or descent, is a great one, from Bethlehem to
Padan-aram ; from the position assigned to Jacob from heaven,
to the position accorded to him on earth. Nor is it a brief
degradation to which he has to submit, — like the brief scene
of grace and glory which prepares him for it. One cold dreary
night, when a stone was his only pillow, sufficed for the testi-
mony from above. Years, not fewer than a score, were
needed to exhaust the toil and trial of his humiliation.
Leaving his father's house, in lowly guise, he is once, and once
for all, declared by a vision and a voice from heaven, to be
the son and heir. It is the act of a few moments. It is as a
vivid flash of lightning across the starless gloom ; and then all
is dark once more. Thereafter, in the dark, nearly a quarter
of a century is to pass before the son and heir again emerges
out of obscurity. And all the while he is to be suffering
wrong ; and he is to be suffering wrong, that he may see his
seed — the seed in which the foundation of the family and
Church that is to be called after him is to be laid. In his
humiliation, he purchases for himself a spouse, and a seed to
bear his name.
It would be unwise to run the risk of pushing fanciful
ITS SPIRITUAL MEANING. 29
analogies and types so far as some of the older interpreters of
the Old Testament Scriptures, patristic and mediseval, were
accustomed to do. The story of Jacob's sojourn in Syria may
easily be allegorised and spiritualised by a dreamy imagination,
so as to become a rehearsal, as it were, or a sort of shadowy
anticipation, of the Lord's incarnation and the Church's
redemption. The double marriage is, in this view, supposed
to be significant ; the elder sister, who must be first espoused,
representing the Jews, to whom the gospel must first be
preached ; the younger and favourite spouse standing for the
Gentiles, who are preferred, and in favour of whom the Jews
are comparatively disparaged and set aside. Even in its
minute details, as regards the connection of Jacob with the
concubines, as well as the births and names of the children —
whether the children of the wives, or of their maids — the
history has been turned into a figure of better things to come,
and each separate particular has received its own small mite
of spiritual application.
It is well to be on our guard against such refinements
upon the plain ^and homely, — the intensely real and personal,
— narratives of the Old Testament, as would emasculate them
of all manly sense and spirit, and turn them into the senile
drivellings of a morbid, and sometimes prurient sentimental-
ism. At the same time there are certain broad analogies or
resemblances not to be overlooked. Even in creation, as the
volume of nature is more and more clearly read, it appears
that God reveals himself upon a plan of typical forms. It
would be strange if we had not everywhere traces of the same
method in that providential history of redemption which it is
the object of the Bible to record. If the forms of creation are
cast in typical moulds, why not also the events of providence ?
— especially those events of providence which form part of
that onward march of the gracious plan of salvation to which
both creation and providence are subordinate and subservient.
In a general way, surely, and without undue merging of the
30 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
real in the ideal, or losing the plain and useful practical history
in recondite and far-fetched spiritual figure, — it is right to
notice such coincidences between the experience of the Patri-
archs and that of him who sprung out of their loins, as are
fitted to throw light on the principles of the divine procedure
in the great economy of redemption.
I. " Israel served " in Syria ; he served as a shepherd ; he
" kept sheep." " He who by his strength is to have power with
God," — " he who is to have power over the Angel and prevail,"
served ; he must needs serve. That is the law of his position,
the condition of his deliverance and exaltation.
All throughout the history of the chosen people, it is made
manifest that they, — the nation Israel, as well as the man
Israel, — are under this condition and law. Servitude in exile
is the indispensable preparation and preliminary if there is to
be either grace or glory; it is the price to be paid for subse-
quent prosperity and peace at home. They served as fugitive
exiles in Egypt, in order to their taking triumphant posses-
sion of the land at first. They kept sheep in Goshen, that
they might reap the fruits of Canaan. They served also as
captive exiles in Babylon, in order to their resuming the
land in the presence of all their enemies. They hung their
harps on the willows beside the rivers of Babel, that they
might have their mouth filled with laughter, and their tongue
^\^th singing, at the recovered sight of their own glorious
Zion.
Thus Israel, as a nation, was subject to the law or con-
dition of dark banishment and dreary servitude being the
way to light, liberty, and life. How fitting then that the
founder of the nation, — the man Israel, from whom the nation
derived its birth and took its name, — should exemplify in his
history the same law, the same condition. Owned by God as
the son, the heir, — he is not immediately glorified. He is not
on the instant declared to be the son with power, or in-
vested with the honours and prerogatives of the heir. He has
' ITS SPIRITUAL MEANING. 31
first to flee and serve, — to banish himself to Syria, a strange
land, and there to be a servant, keeping sheep.
Can we stop short of the conclusion that — whether exem-
plified in the people Israel or in the man Israel — the law or
condition in question has a deeper root than either accidental
coincidence or mere discretionary ap^^ointment? And where
can such a root be found but in him of whom either Israel is
the type?
" The man Christ Jesus" is the true Israel of God. He was
hailed in that character in the waters of Jordan, — as Jacob
was at the stone of Bethel. He was saluted as the Son, the
Heir. The seal of the covenant was upon him and in him.
Why should he not, then, as the Son, the Heir, assume at once
his rank and assert his power? Why should not the stones
become bread to feed him? Why should not the angels wait
on him to keep him from harm, as, casting himself from a pin-
nacle of the temple, he appears gloriously as King in Zion?
Why should he not take possession, not of Canaan only, but
of all the kingdoms of the world, as their rightful proprietor
and lord? So Satan would tempt him to do. And he would
help him to do so, upon the terms of a very moderate com-
promise. But no. Israel must recognise his position as for
the time a sojourner in Syria. Nay more. Israel must serve, —
keeping sheep. He must " take upon him the form of a servant."
" Being made in the likeness of man, and found in fashion as a
man, he must humble himself and become obedient unto death,
even the death of the cross." All this must come before God
highly exalts him, and gives "him a name which is above every
name : that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, and
every tongue confess that he is Lord, to the glory of God the
Father" (Phil. ii. 9-11).
Have we not here the root, the ground, and reason, of that
rule of the divine procedure which we find exemplified in the
history of the nation Israel, and of its founder the man Israel
or Jacob 1 May we not now contemplate his low estate in
32 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
Syria, as well as the Egjrptian bondage and Babylonian cap-
tivity of his posterity, in the light of a far more wonderful and
awful humiliation, — in the light of the principle which that
humiliation expresses and embodies*? That principle is one
which could only very inadequately be made apparent in the
case of either of the two types, — Israel, the nation, — Israel,
the individual; but it comes out emphatically in the case of
the antitype. He must banish himself from his heavenly
home, and become a servant in a strange land, because he
makes common cause with us, places himself in our stead under
the law which we have broken, redeems us by obeying and
suifering on our behalf, and as the captain of our salvation
brings many sons and daughters to glory. Thus he comes
into Syria, and serves, keeping sheep; being "the good shep-
herd, who lays down his life for his sheep." Thus our Jacob,
through the tribulation of his condescending from heaven's
glory to a low estate on earth, and the service of his obedience
and propitiation in that estate, comes forth as our Israel,
having power with God, " able to save to the uttermost all that
come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make inter-
cession for them " (Heb. vii. 25). So the principle applies to
him as the Saviour. And so it must apply to us, if we are to
be saved by him. For he saves us by making us one with
himself. Israel now — the true Israel of God — is Christ ; not
Christ, however, isolated and alone, but Christ identifying
himself with his people, and identifying them with himself.
In Christ therefore, the rule or principle which governed his
experience and determined his history, must govern and
determine ours also. AVe in Christ must consent to serve in
Syria, if we would be free in Canaan; to suffer in Egypt and
in Babylon, if we would be exalted as sons and heirs in the
promised land; to be humbled in him if we would be
glorified with him. There must be the same mind in us that
was also in him. We must be crucified with him, and be
obedient vdth hun, if we would hope to live and reign with him.
ITS SPIRITUAL MEANING. 33
Thus far, guided by tlie Prophet liosea, we can scarcely
go wrong in taking a large and com]3rehensive spiritual view
of Jacob's banishment to Syria and service there, as involving
a principle in the divine administration w^hich is exemplified
in other dealings of God with Jacob's race ; in Egypt, for
example, and at Babylon ; but of which we have the full de-
velopment, as well as the real explanation in the humiliation,
obedience, sufferings, and death of Christ — and of all who are
Christ's — his for them, theirs in him.
II. Is it pressing unduly the analogy suggested, as I think,
by the Prophet — or overstraining it — to go one step farther,
and observe that, as in his low estate in Syria, Israel served
for a wife, so in his humiliation the true Israel purchased for
himself a spouse 1 Before he got home again to Canaan, Ja-
cob saw in his household the foundation laid of that Church
of the twelve tribes which was to be built upon the foundation
of his twelve sons. Before he passed from earth to heaven,
Christ had laid the foundation of a better church, in the twelve
apostles whom he chose to build the spirituaF^habitation, " the
habitation of God through the Spirit," of which he himself is
the head corner-stone. Jacob, in Syria, served well and worked
well for a wife. The family he got at Padan-aram was pur-
chased at no ordinary price ; it cost him years of much servile
toil, and of not a little suffering and shame. But the years
passed swiftly, for the love he had to the wife of his bosom.
Christ also " loved the church, and gave himself for it." It is
the church which " he has purchased with his own blood.'* It
is the church which he " nourisheth and cherisheth as his own
body." It is the church which he "sanctifies and cleanses
with the washing of water, by the word ; that he may present
it to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or
any such thing ; but that it should be holy and without
blemish" (Ephes. v. 25-27).
For here, this marriage, divine and heavenly, shines forth
in bright contrast with these Syrian nuptials, alas ! too earthly
VOL. IL D
34 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
and impure. Jacob, fleeing into tlie country of Syria, and
serving there for a wife, finds himself in the midst of an evil
age, " a wicked and adulterous generation." He cannot even
extricate himself out of its snares, or keep his own hands and
his own heart clean. How then can he rescue and redeem the
objects of his choice ? The ties which bind them to him are
close and endearing ; his love to them may be ardent and
strong. But ah ! how impotent is he to save either himself or
them from the bondage of corruption ! But mark the true
Israel! See how he can deal with the spouse, the church, for
which in his humiliation he serves, at such a cost of patience
and of blood! When he comes in contact with the objects of
his choice, he finds them in the midst of a world that is lying
in wickedness ; themselves as deeply sunk in pollution and
guilt as the very vilest of those among whom they dwell ; the
victims, like others, of its lying vanities ; the heirs, like them,
of " the wrath revealed from heaven against all ungodliness
and unrighteousness of men." Such and so situated are the
objects of our Israel's choice, in this Syria in which he, exiled
for a time from heaven, has to serve for his bride. And into
how close contact does he come with these miserable objects
of his election, making all their misery his own, and all their
guilt — the guilt of that estrangement from his Father and
theii^s which has rendered it needful for him to come into a
far country, to seek and to save the lost! But being himself
uncontaminated and free, he is able to be a ransom for them.
Purchasing their release from condemnation — redeeming them
to be his own peculiar people — he raises them out of the depths
out of which, when for their sakes he had gone down into
them, he has himself been raised. He makes them partakers
of his own rising — his own resurrection. Nay more, he makes
them partakers of his own nature. His Holy Spirit beautifies,
purifies, ennobles them. " The king's daughter is all glorious
within ; her clothing is of wrought gold."
Yes ! in that day of the full and final consummation of our
ITS SPIRITUAL MEANING. 35
divine Israel's espousals — when the wife for whom he served
in his humiliation is to be revealed as one with him in his
glory — when he shall appear and all his hidden ones with
him ; ah ! in that day there will be no dark deceit, no fraud,
no guile — no j^lot that needs the cloud of thickest night to
cover it. Before all intelligences, in the eyes of an assembled
universe ; Lo, a great sight ! New heavens and a new earth ;
the first heavens and the first earth passed away. And what
do I see, as the rapt apostle saw it in his lonely isle of Pat-
mos 1 " The holy city — the New Jerusalem coming down from
God out of heaven, as a bride adorned for her husband." And
hark ! a great voice out of heaven ! " Behold the Tabernacle
of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they
shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them and
be their God, and God shall wipe away all tears from their
eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor
crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former
things are passed away" (Rev. xxi. 1-4).
36 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
XLII.
JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA— RETROSPECT.
Genesis xxix.-xxx. 26.
The interval between Jacob's leaving Bethel for Padan-aram,
and his proposal to return home again, is in many respects a
dark and unsatisfactory subject of study. It is not necessary,
as it is not pleasant, to dwell on its incidents in detail.
Some leading features, however, must be noted.
It may be convenient to fix upon a sort of central point,
— such as that between Jacob's first two seven-years' services,
and his third and last ; — his first two services, almost enforced,
for his wives, and his last, more spontaneous, for his fortune.
From this central point, a retrospective glance may be cast on
the fourteen preceding years, before proceeding to the remain-
ing seven. Such a retrospective glance, from some central
point, it is often very useful to cast on the bygone part of
life. How does it look now 1 An occasion arises for a kind
of count and reckoning as to the past, — with ourselves, or with
some one with whom we have had dealings, — a friend, a rela-
tive, with whom we have been living familiarly. It is time
that we should part, or come to an understanding. Old scores
are to be inquired into and disposed of. A new footing is to
be adjusted.
So Jacob at this crisis feels. He must be off. It is high
time for him to go home. He has tarried long enough in
Padan-aram ; longer far than he at first intended ; as long
certainly as was good for himself; as long as his grasping
relative had any shadow of right to keep him. His heart
RETROSPECT. 37
yearns to embrace his parents once more. His duty calls him
to make the land of promise his abode. It will not do to
have the chosen family all bred, as well as born, in Syria.
Let them learn to breath the air of Canaan. Therefore, at
the end of fourteen years, " Jacob said unto Laban, Send me
away, that I may go unto mine own place, and to my
country." In thus asking his dismission or discharge, Jacob
appeals to Laban's sense of equity. In all fairness he is quite
entitled to what he asks. He has honourably fulfilled the
terms of his engagement ; as he can call Laban himself to
witness ; — " Thou knowest my service which I have done
thee" (xxx. 25, 26).
It has been a service on which the two men may look back
with very mingled feelings.
I. Jacob's first introduction to Laban's family must be
fresh in the memory of both. It was not of such a sort as
would have led either of them at the time to anticipate the
nature of the connection that was to subsist between them,
or the manner in which it was to be developed.
That first meeting with Eachel — how vividly is it before
Jacob's eye ! He is a weary pilgrim once more, — way-worn,
foot-sore, and thirsty. He sees three flocks and their keepers
gathered round a well. He hails them courteously as
brethren. He gathers from them that he is at his journey's
end. They are of Haran : they know Laban ; they are ex-
pecting his daughter, and the sheep she has to tend. He at
once calls to mind how old Eliezer found a wife for his father
Isaac, perhaps at the very same well. The coincidence strikes
him. Silently he breathes Eliezer's prayer, that it may please
the Lord to show him her whom he has appointed for him.
It is the prayer of faith. That he may be alone w4iile waiting
for the answer, he would be rid of the men whose presence
may be embarrassing : for such, perhaps, is the reason of his
suggestion that they should at once water the sheep and lead
them off to pasture — a suggestion, however, which they
38 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
decline to follow, on the plea that they must wait " until all
the flocks be gathered together, and till they roll the stone
from the well's mouth." Suddenly Eachel appears with her
father's sheep, following her lead. Jacob hastens anxiously and
eagerly to serve her, — rolling the stone from the well's mouth
and watering the sheep for her. His heart is full. — Hast thou
heard me, Lord, as thou didst hear that good old man, whose
way of executing his commission from home I so well remem-
ber 1 Is this indeed the answer to my prayer ? — Eegardless
of onlookers, he sees Eachel only. Saluting her with a holy
kiss, he cannot refrain himself. He gives vent to his emotions
in irrepressible tears — " Jacob kissed Eachel, and lifted up his
voice, and wept" (xxix. 1-11).
How strange, after fourteen such years as he had spent
with Laban, to recall, as if it were yesterday, that first inter-
view with Laban's daughter, and those first gushings of love !
Could it ever have entered into his mind then to fancy it pos-
sible that so tender a scene was to be so followed up ; that a
moment of such simple faith and pure joy was to usher in so
lono- a train of humiliation 1 And Laban too, has he no recol-
lection of that day 1 Does he not again see his daughter run-
nino" to him with the eager tidings that his sister's son has
come 1 Does he not remember how the tidings then afi'ected
him 1 — how " he ran to meet Jacob, and embraced him, and
kissed him, and brought him to his house," and made much
of him, because — so he said, " Surely thou art my bone and
my flesh." There was no thought in Laban's heart that day
of the frauds he was to practise on his kinsman, or the service
he was to extort from him. For the time, he was as truly and
deeply moved as Jacob was himself Who that saw the family
group round Laban's board that evening, and listened to their
talk of home memories and home ties, could have anticipated
sach a domestic history as that which Jacob is looking back
upon, when he says to Laban, "Thou knowest my service which
I have done thee"?" (xxix. 12-14).
EETROSPECT. 39
II. The double marriage, and the manner of it, — what are
father-in-law and son-in-law thinking of that whole matter
now ? " I have served for my wives," saj^s Jacob, as thou
didst stipulate ; — our bargain is fulfilled. It was a strange bar-
gain ; and now that, on the eve of a proposed parting, they
recall all the circumstances of it, — not very creditable to either.
How came they to fall into it 1 Surely Laban, when he so
affectionately embraced Jacob, had no idea of treating him as
he did. He is at first sincere in his kindness to his kinsman,
his sister's son, when he invites him to abide with him as a
guest for " the space of a month." But as the month rolls on,
he begins to be disappointed. He had expected, perhaps, that
Jacob, being Abraham's grandson, and claiming to be his heir,
would produce some evidence of his birthright-title to the
temporal wealth of that patriarch, as well as to the spiritual
blessing. True ; Jacob does not come with that rich and im-
posing retinue which formerly made Abraham's servant welcome
in that worldly house. Still he may have some more private
means of attesting his rank and riches. No. Jacob confesses
he has none. He came away in haste and by stealth ; — leav-
ing his elder brother, as Laban would naturally think, in pos-
session of the worldly privilege, at least, of which he accused
Jacob of having defrauded him. Laban is no believer in divine
oracles, or in deathbed patriarchal benedictions ; he would have
something more tangible. Jacob may turn out to be the son and
heir ; made the son and heir by some sort of spiritual covenant or
arrangement of which Laban has no evidence, and can form no
idea. Meanwhile, by his own acknowledgment, he has been a
deceiver or supplanter, and is now little better than a runaway
and a beggar. The least that can be expected, therefore, if he is
to remain in his uncle's house, is that he should be willmg to
work as his uncle's servant. It does not, after all, seem very
unreasonable that a man like Laban should assign to him that
position. Nay, Laban may even consider himself to be deserv-
ing of some credit for generosity, when he proposes to recom-
40 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
pense Jacob for his service. I will not take advantage of your
relationship to me, as if it entitled me, wliile you are an inmate
of my house, to set you to such offices as the other members
of my family, and even my own daughters, gratuitously dis-
charge. " Because thou art my brother (my kinsman), should-
est thou, therefore, serve me for nought 1 tell me, what shall
thy wages be f (ver. 1 5). So far this Laban, as it might seem,
is not much to blame. And when, still farther, upon learning
that Jacob sought, as the only wages he then cared for, his
younger daughter in marriage, Laban accepted, in lieu of the
dowry which it was customary for a suitor to offer for his bride,
a term of service proffered by the suitor himself, — he cannot
well be considered seriously censurable. It was not wonder-
ful that as a careful, if not tender, father, he should, for his
daughter's own sake, acquiesce in Jacob's proposal to serve for
her seven years ; — that during that time of probation he might
know more of one who, though allied to him by blood, had
reached his house as a stranger, and a stranger not free from
circumstances of susj)icion. Even this part of the transaction,
therefore, is not by any means unnatural or unjustifiable.
Laban might reflect on it afterwards without much regret or
self-reproach. AVould that he had nothing worse to reflect
upon! (xxix. 14-20).
But, first, the false nuptials, the fraud practised on the
marriage night ; — how practised, we cannot tell — by what fell
tyranny over the affections of the one daughter — by what
threats forcing to her dishonour the other — by what vile arts
practised on the outraged husband ; the remorseless and un-
scrupulous plotter himself alone could reveal the secrets of that
dark deed of shame ; — then, secondly, the cool effrontery of
his vamped-up excuse, when he is challenged for the base
trick ; — and, lastly, what is almost worse than all, the infamous
offer of redress, — the proposal to repair the wrong by a new ini-
quity; making true love, unjustly and most scandalously baulked,
minister to that incestuous bigamy in which alone it can now
RETROSPECT. 41
find its gratification ; bartering both his children for the ser-
vice of a man whose chief recommendation in his eyes mani-
festly was, that he was making him rich ; — what complication
of cruelty and crime, of low cunning, sordid avarice, gross
impurity, and unfeeling oppression ! And what has come of
it 1 Laban has got a double seven years' lease of a most valu-
able servant, in whose diligent and faithful hands his affairs
have prospered as they never prospered before. But has he
no misgivings 1 Ah ! might he not have some, now that Jacob
talks of leaving him — as he thinks on the sort of home he has
made for his son-in-law ; the jealous rivalry of the sisters, un-
naturally associated as wives ; with all the unseemly strifes
and unholy devices to which that rivalry gave inevitable occa-
sion 1 And Jacob — what of him 1 How does he feel in look-
ing back to the short week within which his double marriage
was consummated ? After one seven years' service, he found
himself suddenly, and against his will, committed to another ;
with the wife he loved, indeed, in his bosom, — but under a
sad drawback upon his anticipated domestic joy. He sought
none other than Eachel. Left to himself, he would have been
content with her alone, and what pure happiness might have
])een his, but for that outrageous stratagem of Laban of which
he was the victim ! The first term of his service for Eachel
seemed to him but a few days for the love he had to her.
And if, at its close, he had been allowed, as he intended, hon-
ourably to espouse the object of his chaste choice, — he might
have walked in the steps of his father Isaac ; and whether re-
maining in Syria, or returning to Canaan, waited until it pleased
God to crown the union with the promised issue. It is vain,
however, to wish to recall or undo the past. The second seven
years' term of service is over.* It has not gone so smoothly
as the first ; there have been family feuds and family faults.
* I adopt the opinion of those who place the marriage of Jacob and
Eachel at the beginning of the second seven years' terra of service. It
seems all but impossible otherwise to harmonise the narrative.
42 Jacob's sojourn in syria.
The sisters, in their jealousy of one another, have led their
husband into still grosser conformity to the loose manners of
the age and country than he would himself have dreamt of.
At the end of it he finds himself rich in children ; he has a
household large enough. But there is something significant in
the close connection between Eachel's bringing forth, after
years of barreness, her first-born son, Joseph, and Jacob's in-
stantly proposing to return to Canaan. It is almost as if he
recognised, not indeed as regards Laban, but as regards
the Lord, a sort of nunc dimittis, — " now lettest thou thy ser-
vant depart in peace ; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."
It is as if he felt that, had he been allowed to act according
to his own choice and his own sense of duty alone, he would
have gone home more gladly with this one solitary pledge of
the love that knit his heart and Rachel's in one, than with
the large family which he owes to mothers whom, of his own
accord, he never would have sought (xxix. 21 ; xxx. 25).
Yes ! the full enormity of Laban's treatment of him is now
apparent. For a long time, while Rachel's womb is closed,
Jacob may have been tempted to congratulate himself on his
having been tricked into a previous marriage with her sister
Leah. He evidently has satisfaction in Leah's fruitfulness ;
and while piously reproving Rachel's impatient demand, " Give
me children or I die," he seems to acquiesce in her conclusion,
that she is not likely to be a mother, — " Am I in God's stead,
who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb " (xxx.
1,2). So hopeless is he of issue by her, that he consents to
take her handmaid as her substitute ; that, according to the
idews then prevalent, he may lighten Rachel's reproach and
abate Leah's triumph. Still, by herself or by her handmaid
as her proxy, Leah has the best of it in this most sad and un-
seemly emulation. Rachel continues, as it would seem, hope-
lessly barren. Jacob is more and more inclined to count it a
happy circumstance that he has got other wives to be the
mothers of his children. His indignant sense of the wrong
RETROSPECT. 43
which he sustained, when that arrangement was at first so
fraudulently forced on him, is abated ; so also is his sense of
his own sin in consenting to it afterwards. He begins to feel
as if he could not have trusted the promised seed to Eachel
alone ; and as if he had done well to make sure of it by
accepting Leah, for whom he had to thank the cunning of her
father ; — and the handmaids whom he owed to the evil pas-
sions of the sisters. They were not of his seeking, — ^these
other spouses, — Leah, Bilhah, and Zilpah ; they have been in
a manner imposed upon him ; and Eachel's continued child-
lessness seems to explain the reason. At last, however,
Rachel's womb is opened ; quite as soon after her marriage as
either Sarah's or Rebekah's ; — nay, sooner. Jacob is rebuked.
He sees that the flattering unction he has been laying to his
conscience is vain. However he may be justified or excused
for his polygamy, his defence or apology cannot rest on the
ground on which Rachel's prolonged barrenness has been
tempting him to place it. With her alone, as his only spouse,
his faith would not have been tried so much as was the faith
of his father Isaac ; — the trial of it would have been as nothing
in comparison with the trial of his grandfather Abraham's.
It is altogether according to the manner of God thus to open
Jacob's eyes, if in some such way as has been indicated, he
has been tempted to deceive himself, and to think well, or at
least not so ill, of those miserable matrimonial expedients on
which he has been beginning, perhaps, to look with some
measure of complacency.
Nor is it Jacob's eyes only that this event, the birth of
Joseph, is fitted to open. The whole household, including
Laban himself, might be the better for the lesson, if they could
but lay it to heart. If, from the beginning of these trans-
actions, faith had been allowed to regulate the counsels and
proceedings of all the parties concerned, — if when Jacob
sought a wife in faith, with a view to the promised seed,
Laban, in the same faith, had given him the wife manifestly
44 Jacob's sojourn in syria.
appointed for him by the Lord, — Eachel would have been to
him what Eebekah was to Isaac, and Sarah to Abraham.
Faith would have waited patiently in their case, as it did in
the case of these other holy pairs, for the promised issue.
And as it now turns out, faith would in due time have
received its reward.
Who are these poor worms of the dust, Laban, Leah,
Rachel, Jacob himself, and all the rest of them, that they
should go about plotting and planning, after so vile a fashion,
for the building of the house or family in which the God of
Abraham is to record his name, and out of which the Son and
Lord of Abraham is to spring, for the saving of the nations 1
What mean these wretched bickerings and jarrings in that ill-
assorted home ? To what purpose is this indecent haste of
these women ■? AVhy all this miserable game of rivalry,
defiling honourable marriage, — this pitiable trade and traffic
of mandrakes, — and all the other incidents wliich so offend
us ; — enacted beneath the roof of a professed man of God ?
Does the Lord stand in need of such de^dces and doings as
these for the raising up of a seed for Abraham 1 — the Lord,
who is able " out of these stones to raise up children unto
Abraham ? " Nay, let Isaac's birth in Abraham's house, and
Jacob's in that of Isaac, — and now the opening of Rachel's
womb in the birth of Joseph, — give the emphatic repl}^
Yes ! the Lord might have been trusted to work out his
own ends in his own good way. He may be pleased, now
that the thing is done, to turn to account the issue of these
unholy devices, as " he makes the wrath of man to praise
him." He may use Jacob's sons, however Jacob has got them,
for the founding of his church in Israel. So he manifests his
sovereignty and power, his electing grace and overruling pro-
vidence. But surely, for Jacob himself, and for all concerned
in these strange and sad affairs, it Avould have been better far,
if faith had all along from the first been allowed to rule ; if
Jacob, in faith, had dealt more frankly and more boldly with
RETROSPECT. 45
Laban ; if Laban and his house had, in faith, received Jacob ;
if all parties had, in simple faith, followed the Lord's guiding
eye, — in simple faith, leaving the event to him.
" Fret not thyself because of evil-doers, neither be thou en-
vious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be
cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb. Trust
in the Lord, and do good ; so shalt thou dwell in the land,
and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the
Lord ; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Com-
mit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in him, and he shall
bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as
the light, and thy judgment as the noon-day. Eest in the
Lord, and wait patiently for him : fret not thyself because of
him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who
bringeth wicked devices to pass. Cease from anger, and for-
sake -wrath : fret not thyself in anywise to do evil " (Ps.
xxxvii. 1-8).
46 Jacob's sojourn in syria.
XLIII.
JACOB'S SOJOUEN IN SYRIA— THE LAST BARGAIN.
Genesis xxx. 27-43.
And the man increased exceedingly, and had much cattle, and maid- ser-
vants, and men-servants, and camels, and asses. — Genesis xxx. 43.
This is a summary of Jacob's manner of life during the third
and last term of his service in the household of Laban. Some
six or seven years have passed away since he consented to re-
new his engagement with his father-in-law -, and the close of
it finds him prosperous, thriving, wealthy. He has been
" providing for his own house," as he intimated at the time his
intention of doing (ver. 30), and God has blessed his provision.
He has got more than he covenanted for in his vow at Bethel,
which was simply bread to eat and raiment to put on. He
has large store of what chiefly constituted the riches of these
days ; — " much cattle, and maid-servants, and men-servants,
and camels, and asses." The bargain which he made with
Laban, when after two weeks of years spent in his service he
consented to a third, has turned out to be profitable.
Into the terms of that bargain and its issue, we need not
inquire very particularly ; it is not made very clear by the
narrative, not at least to us, at our distance of time and place.
From our point of view, the reason and propriety of it are not
very apparent ; according to our modern and Avestern notions,
the whole aff'air appears strange, not to say fantastic. Possibly
those who lived nearer the date of this history, being familiar
with primitive patriarchal habits and the mamiers of nomadic
THE LAST BARGAIN. 47
tribes, may have been better able to enter into the meaning of
the transaction. It may have had lessons to teach them,
which we can but imperfectly learn. For though all Scripture
is written for our learning, it is not all equally so. Nor is it
any disparagement of the perfection of the Bible, but rather
the reverse, that being given for the use of successive genera-
tions, it should contain waymarks of these generations which
the foot of time partially obliterates. In all essential matters,
in aU things pertaining to life and godliness, — to grace and
glory, — the light shines more brightly as, from age to age,
revelation rises from its dim and morning dawn to its meridian
fulness, — so that its latest beams shed lustre on its earliest
discoveries. But in what relates to times, and seasons, and
circumstances, — the incidents and outer garments, rather than
the essence and inner spirit, of the truth which it has to dis-
close,— the Bible, being all throughout human as well as divine
— and that is its perfection — may be expected to contain
passages in its history, and paintings in its poetry, which dis-
tance makes comparatively obscure to us, though to the men
of the day they may have been interesting and edifying. It
would be well if this consideration were kept in view, as in
common fairness it ought to be, by those who hunt for diffi-
culties in these old sacred records, or who stumble at them.
It would be well also if it were kept in view by those who
study or expound these records for the purposes of moral in-
struction and the spiritual life. It might lead the former to
be more modest and diffident in their criticism ; and the latter
to be more reserved sometimes in their moralising and spiritu-
alising.
But to return. There is one thing about the bargain now
in question that cannot fail to strike an attentive observer. It
was singularly disinterested and unselfish on the part of Jacob.
He himself makes it a test of his " righteousness" (xxx. 31-33).
It must be allowed, indeed, that that is not the notion
which, on a cursory reading of the history, we are apt to take
48 Jacob's sojourn in syria.
up. The whole thing looks like trick ; Jacob defeating Laban
on his own ground, and with his own weapon ; plot against
plot ; stratagem against stratagem. But it is not really so.
The appearance of craft is on the surface. If we look a little
below the surface, what have we 1 At the best, or at the
worst, Jacob offers to lay a bet, or make a wager, with Laban.
And he gives his father-in-law most extraordinary advantage
— such advantage as no speculator would give now. I do not
say that Jacob's affair with Laban was of that character ; all
I say is, that in that view of the matter, he gave Laban all the
chance, — all the advantage, — of the trial as to the different
kinds of sheep and goats. The whole transaction is so ar-
ranged that Laban cannot well lose, while the probability of
Jacob gaining is extremely small.
But is it Jacob's craft that so arranges HI Or is it so ar-
ranged according to the will of God? What was the bargain?
its occasion ? its character 1 —
1. As to its occasion, — Jacob, having gained his end, and
being all but complete as the ancestor of the twelve tribes,
proposes to Laban that he should be suffered to go home to
his father Isaac's house, and to the land of his inheritance.
Surely it is a reasonable proposal, and one in which Laban
should in all fairness have been willing to acquiesce. If he
hesitates, it certainly does not appear to be from any reluc-
tance to lose the society of his son-in-law, his daughters, and
their children. There is not much evidence of friendly feeling
or natural affection in Laban's dealings with them. Nor, in-
deed, to do him justice, does he make much profession of any
thing of the sort. He frankly owns his motive for wishing to
keep Jacob in his employment to be a selfish one ; — " I pray
thee, if I have found favour in thine eyes, tarry ; for I have
learned by experience that the Lord hath blessed me for thy
sake" (ver. 27). He knows the value of a faithful servant,
and plainly avows his love of gain. Jacob, on the other hand,
when liis conduct on this occasion is fairly judged, appears in
THE LAST BARGAIN. 49
a comparatively favourable light. Evidently he has not been
covetous of wealth ; at the close of a fourteen years' service,
he is as poor as he was at the beginning : and in that condi-
tion of poverty, he is willing to quit the service (ver. 26). No
doubt there had been opportunities -within his reach of better-
ing his circumstances, — such opportunities as many in his place
would not have scrupled to take advantage of And, indeed,
considering how he was situated, and how he had been used,
I am apt to feel as if I could scarcely have blamed Jacob
much, if I had seen him bent, not merely on enriching Laban,
but on laying up something for himself. Without anything
like what the world stigmatises as dishonesty, — if he had been
disposed to do what many another man in his position would
have had no hesitation in doing, and would have been held
entitled to do, — Jacob must have had it frequently in his
power to transact a little business on his own account. For
can we doubt that the chief herdsman of a powerful and
wealthy Sheik like Laban must have come in contact with
parties ready to oblige him, — that he might have had capital
advanced to him on which to commence trading for himself, —
and that without prejudice, as it might have been represented,
to his master's interests, he might have had his own private
stock of cattle meanwhile accumulating and thriving on his
hands? But Jacob acts otherwise. Faithful to his trust, —
not as an eye-servant, but as one fearing God, — he conscien-
tiously devotes himself to Laban's work. He uses no arts or
methods of self-aggrandisement ; nor does he make any com-
plaint about the poor state in which his father-in-law, growing
wealthy by his means, so ungenerously keeps him. Quietly
he pursues the even tenor of his way ; and when at last he
proposes to leave his greedy kinsman, it is without one word
of upbraiding about the past, and with no demand upon him
now for more than his wives and his children for whom alone
he has thus faithfully served during these long fourteen years.
Surely that does not look like the conduct of one making haste
VOL. n. E
50 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
to be rich, and not very particular as to the way. And sure-
ly it affords some ground for thinking that in making his new
bargain with Laban, and in carrying it into effect, Jacob is
not the party lightly to be suspected of underhand policy or
fraud.
2. The bargain itself, so far as its tenor can be gathered
from the somewhat obscure account which we have got of it,
would seem to have been briefly this. All the purely white,
or all that are of one uniform colour, among the cattle, the
sheep, and the goats, are henceforth to belong to Laban ;
Jacob is to have as his hire the party-coloured among the
goats, and the brown among the sheep. Under the bargain,
a division is immediately made, — certainly most favourable to
Laban, and scarcely equitable or fair to Jacob. All the cattle
of the kind for which Jacob had stipulated are removed from
under his care and consigned to Laban's sons. Jacob is
left in charge exclusively of those that are of the sort Laban
is to claim. And a space of three days' journey being inter-
posed, every possible precaution is taken to prevent the two
separate portions of the cattle from mixing and breeding
together. For as yet the whole stock belongs exclusively to
Laban. Jacob has not a single sheep, — not a solitary goat.
The bargain applies only to the offspring of the existing gene-
ration of these animals ; and so far as appears, only to the
offspring of those of them left with Jacob — to the exclusion of
the others carried away by Laban and his sons.
Here, then, is Jacob left with a handful of sheep and goats,
not one of which is of the colour that is to distinguish the
cattle that are to belong to him. And from among the lambs
and kids that may be born of them, he is to pay himself his
hire as best he may.
Who has the best, humanly speaking, of this novel sort of
engagement 1
One can fancy the grasping household of Laban chuckling
as they led away the only portion of the flock or herd that
THE LAST BARGAIN. 51
could have afforded Jacob any chance, as it might be thought,
of making anything by his bargain, and exulting in the pro-
spect of the whole property continuing to belong to them.
For surely the cattle left with Jacob will produce offspring
like themselves. Our simple kinsman will soon find that he
has notably miscalculated, and is finely taken in.
How far this procedure on the part of Laban and his sons,
— the removal from under Jacob's care of all that were of the
sort that he was ultimately to have as his, — was part of the
bargain as intended by Jacob, or was consistent with it, is not
very clear. It is by no means improbable, when the character
of Laban is kept in view, that it was an after-thought. It
may be one of the instances to which Jacob refers when he
says to Leah and Eachel, — " Your father hath deceived me
and changed my wages ten times ;" an exaggeration, doubtless,
but not unnatural in the circumstances (xxxi. 7). If so, then
we can see a special reason for that interposition of God on
his behalf of which he tells his wives (xxxi. 8-12). It was
upon the suggestion of God, — such virtually is Jacob's protest,
— it was at his instance and in compliance with his directions,
— that I adopted the expedient which he has so greatly
blessed. In fact, how he should have thought of such a
device without some impulse or instruction from above, it is
extremely difficult to imagine. It is true that much learned
and ingenious speculation has been expended on making it out
that he adroitly availed himself of a natural law of the animal
economy ; but the result of all such attempts has been any-
thing but satisfactory. The success which the scheme met
with cannot well be explained upon any principle of nature's
ordinary operations ; it seems both wiser and safer therefore to
refer it at once to divine agency and superintendence ; and to re-
gard it as a case analogous to that of the blind man whose cure the
Lord chose to effect by means equally unlikely to succeed (John
ix). What Jacob did he did by faith. Why his faith was tried in
this particular way, — why God chose to interfere on behalf of
52 JACOB'S SOJOURN IN SYRIA.
his servant in a manner so strange, and as it might seem, so out
of all accordance with natural sense or reason, — we cannot of
course tell, any more than we can tell w^liy Jesus cured the
blind man as he did ; we can only acquiesce in God's sovereignty,
working when and where and how he pleases ; and recognise his
purpose to test and prove, with a \dew to strengthen, the trust
which a believer puts in him. We can well imagine, however,
Laban and his sons, watching w^ith supreme contempt, and the
supercilious smile of calm and complacent increduhty, the fond
and foolish experiment Jacob was trying. Jacob too, might
sometimes be out of countenance, as he heard their sneers and
felt the ridicule of his situation. But patience for a little.
The scoffers are put to shame, and simple faith is owned and
requited. For "the man increased exceedingly, and had
much cattle, and maid-servants, and men-servants, and camels,
and asses" (xxx. 43).
THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB. 53
XLIV.
THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB.
Genesis xxxi.
When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at
peace with him. — Proverbs xvi. 7.
The parting between Jacob and Laban is better than, in the
view of all the previous intercourse between them, might have
been anticipated. In so far as it is so, it is very manifestly
the Lord's doing. Little or nothing of what is decorous and
peaceful, not to say friendly, in the closing scene, is to be
ascribed to the goodwill or the good sense of those engaged in
it. Jacob's stealthy and felon-like flight was fitted to awaken
Laban's wrath. Laban's pursuit, again, was the sort of last
offence that makes the trodden worm turn round and show
fight, as Jacob does in his angry chiding. But for the special
interposition of God, disastrous consequences must have marked
the meeting of the fugitive son-in-law and the incensed father
of his wives. That interposition, however, made the meeting
safe, and the farewell in which it issued decent, if not amicable.
I. Jacob's resolution to return to Canaan is of the Lord.
He says so himself expressly, when he tells his wives of
what the Angel of God had said to him :— " I am the God of
Bethel, where thou anointedest the pillar, and where thou
vowedest a vow unto me : now arise, get thee out from this
land, and return unto the land of thy kindred" (xxxi. 13).*
* There is a diflEiculty, though not a serious one, in clearing up the
vision, or visions, which Jacob relates to his wives, when he is persuading
54 THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB.
He is bent on reconciling his wives to his purpose of leav-
ing Syria. It was a purpose which he had announced to his
father-in-law seven years before, on the birth of Joseph
(xxx. 25). At that time, it was a purpose of his own, — natu-
ral, in the circumstances, but not of God. He had been per-
suaded to postpone the execution of it. He now resumes it ;
and he is anxious to satisfy his household that he has divine
warrant for resuming it. In doing so, he briefly notices the
whole history of God's dealings with him during the closing
period of his service under Laban. God has been manifestly pro-
tecting and prospering him, for it was by express divine direc-
tion that he adopted the course which has so greatly enriched
him. And now it is the command of the same God that he shall
" arise, get him out of this land, and return unto the land of
his kindred " (ver. 1 3). He who during these last years has
defended me against the wiles of my crafty father-in-law, —
them to quit their father's house, and accompany him to his own home
(ver. 11-13). He appeals to God as having given him two distinct and se-
parate revelations. They seem to be one, as he cites them to his wives ;
but if we look closely into them, it is manifest that they are really two. They
are joined as one, because they are the beginning and the end of the Lord's
communication of his will to Jacob, Avith reference to the supplementary
period of his sojourn with Laban, after he had served fourteen years for his
wives and children. Now that after another seven years' term of service
he again, for the second time, proposes to leave Syria, it is reasonable that
he should satisfy his household as to the divine warrant which he had both
for remaining seven years before, when he had meant to go, and for going
now, when there was much that might have induced him to stay. He inti-
mates to his family that it is the same divine authority which sanctioned
his renewed bargain Avith Laban for other seven years after the first two
periods were ended, that now indicates the path of duty, as lying in the
direction of Canaan and of home. Hence he recites as if it were all one
vision, what really resolves itself into two ; the one having reference to the
manner in which he gi-ew rich in cattle during the last seven years of his so-
journ with Laban (ver. 12) ; the other having reference to his return to the
land of his kindred (ver. 13).
THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB. 55
" not suffering him to hurt me." — and who, in spite of an un-
equal bargain, unfairly kept, has " taken away his cattle and
given them to me," — he, my father's God, now bids me seek my
father's home.
The order, as Jacob cites it, is given with great solemnity.
An appeal is made to the memorable scene at Bethel, and the
transaction which was consummated and ratified there. Jacob
is reminded of the Lord's grace and of his own obligation. The
time has come for him to pay his vow (ver. 13).
It is possible that he may have been inclined to forget it.
During the fourteen years of his poverty, when " he served for a
wife, and for a wife kept sheep," he was not in circumstances
to redeem his pledge ; — God, the God of Bethel, gave him
food and raiment, but nothing more. It is but yesterday, as
it were, that he has begun to acquire the means of carrying
his devout and liberal purpose into effect ; he is only now be-
coming wealthy. The sudden change may be apt to operate
injuriously ; reconciling him, perhaps, to his sojourn far off
from Bethel. He may not now be so ready as he was when
he was poor to say to Laban, Send me away that I may go
unto my own place, and to my country ; he may be willing to
tarry a little longer. The impression of that night when first
he tasted and saw how good the Lord is, may be growing
somewhat faint ; and when his own voluntary engagement is
brought to his recollection, he may be tempted to persuade
himself that the fulfilment of it had better be postponed for a
season, till he is better able to show his gratitude to him
whose blessing is making him rich.
If it be so with Jacob, as alas ! it too often is even with
men of God similarly situated, — if thus the world is getting
hold of his heart, and causing him to be content in Syria, and
unmindful of Canaan, — how graciously is his case met ! The
very murmuring of Laban's sons, and the change of Laban's
countenance towards him, are in this view special mercies.
They make him feel how precarious his position is, and how un-
56 THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB.
certain is his tenure of all that he has got. They reawaken his
sense of the bitterness of his exile, and set him upon thinking
of his home, and his father, and his father's God. And when,
at that precise crisis, just as his soul is becoming weary under
the feeling of the utter vanity of the very success he has at-
tained, God once more comes specially to deal with him, —
what can be more fitted to drive home the blow which has
been already struck, — what more likely to give a gracious
turn to the disappointment and resentment naturally rankling
in his bosom, — what more certain to touch a tender chord,
and revive in him the freshness of his first love — than so
aftectiug a reference as the Lord is pleased to make to that old
fellowship between himself and his broken-hearted sen^ant ; —
''I am the God of Bethel, where thou anointedst the pillar,
and where thou vowedst a vow unto me : now arise, get thee
out from this land, and return unto the land of thy kindred "
(ver. 13).
II. The manner of Jacob's departure is not, as it would
seem, of the Lord. It savours too much of Jacob's own dis-
position towards guile.
In the first place, there was no reason for his having re-
course to the stratagem of a secret movement, or clandestine
flight. Laban had no claim upon him, — he was not Laban's
bondsman. As an independent man, who had certainly got
nothing from Laban as a favour, — nothing for which he had
not paid full value, — Jacob might have stood up manfully
for his right to go where he pleased, and to manage his house-
hold in his own way. If he retained any sense of his high
position as the representative of believing Abraham, — the heir
of the promise, — he ought to have taken a firmer and more
worthy stand with his worldly father-in-law. And having
express divine warrant for the step, he was inexcusable m not
acting upon that warrant, openly and boldly. He might thus
have left behind him such an impression of God being with
him as could not fail to lead to good in many ways, beyond all
THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB. 57
that his calculations of expediency could forecast. But alas !
he is radically and essentially a schemer ; manoeuvring is his
forte and his fate. He must needs play the part of a cowardly
fugitive, — escaping as a thief under the cloud of night. As
it turns out, his plot is both unnecessary and unavailing. It
is made evident that God would have interfered, at anyrate,
to help him; and it is made equally evident, that without
God's interference, his plan for helping himself was vain. Nor
is this all.
For, secondly, his plan proved itself to be full of mischief
Not only did it tend so to lessen him in the eyes of Laban as
to make it impossible for him to exert any wholesome
influence on that churlish man, — which he might have done,
if he had gone forth boldly, at the Lord's call ; — it wrought
sore evil in himself and in his household. For himself, it
made him too much what he had been before, when he won
the blessing by a stratagem ; and it works disastrously in his
family. Would his beloved Eachel have cut so poor a figure
in this world-wide and world-lasting history as she does when
her father questions her about the secreted gods (ver. 34, 35),
— would there have been idols in the chambers of his wives
and children, hindering afterwards his payment of his Bethel
vow (xxxv. 2-4), — if Jacob had not stolen away so slyly, but
had insisted on his liberty to go forth in face of day, as a
worshipper and servant of the most high God alone 1
Certainly the manner of Jacob's departure from Syria, is
not of God, but of man.
III. The peaceful end, however, of what threatened to
become a violent and warlike collision, is of the Lord.
The clandestine flight of his son-in-law naturally provokes
Laban. Considering indeed his past treatment of Jacob, and
what we may with great probability conjecture to be his
present intentions with regard to him, — now that his sons
have awakened his covetous jealousy, and his countenance is
not towards Jacob as it was before, — one would be disposed
58 THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB.
to say that lie has no great reason to be surprised and no
right to be displeased. Nor, whatever he may afterwards
affect, can we give him much credit for being moved by
fatherly affection. But he has lost a valuable servant. And
with no misgivings of conscience as to the v/ay in which he
has dealt with him, feeling himself to be deceived and
defrauded, he thinks that he does well to be angry. For
none are more apt to be resentful of wrong than the sharper
outwitted, or the biter bit.
What the meeting would have been, if the parties had
been left to themselves, may in some faint measure be
gathered from what, even under the restraint which the
Lord's command to Laban imposed, it actually was. Certainly
it was at one time passionate and stormy enough. It begins
indeed with tolerable decency and smoothness. The wily and
plausible man of the world assumes a bland countenance and
uses fair words. It is his honour, as it seems, that is touched !
His tender feelings as a parent are wounded ! He is hurt
because Jacob has suspected and distrusted him; and he
resents his having had no opportunity of handsomely dis-
missing him, if he was determined to go, loaded with benefits,
— and carrying with him the daughters he had got for wives,
not as poor captives taken with the sword, but as women of
rank suitably attended and attired. Above all, it is hard
that a loving father should not be suffered to imprint a last
kiss on the lips of children whom it is not likely that he is to
see on earth again. Truly the good Laban is a sorely injured
man (ver. 26-28).
But the specious dissembler cannot be consistent with
himself. As if to let out the cloven foot, he must needs make
a boast of what he might have done ; and that in such a
manner as 'to indicate pretty clearly that but for a divine
arrest laid on him, he would have actually done it ; — " It is in
the power of my hand to do you hurt : but the God of your
father spake unto me yesternight saying, Take thou heed that
' THE Px^RTING OF LABAN AND JACOB. 59
thou speak not to Jacob either good or bad" (ver. 29). Jacob
shrewdly and rightly gathers his worthy father-in-law's real
meaning (ver. 42). Laban has unconsciously dropped the
mask. He had been bent on mischief. But, as he says,
" the God of your father spake unto me." The God of your
father! For Laban will not own and worship him as his
God, although he is constrained to stand in awe and obey.
It is not true faith but slavish dread that stays his hand. He
is at heart a persecutor, — restrained neither by a conscientious
reverence for God, nor by a kindly feeling towards man, but
only by a sort of servile and superstitious apprehension of
some evil coming upon himself from the w^ath of that being
whom his intended victim worships. So he betrays his real
purpose ; giving a hint, at the same time, of the ground he
might have alleged that he had for picking a new quarrel if
he chose ', " though thou wouldest needs be gone, because
thou sore longedst after thy father's house, yet wherefore hast
thou stolen my gods (ver. 30) ?
Jacob's reply is, in the circumstances, as calm and dignified
as it well could be. For his flight he has no occasion to
apologise ; at least not to Laban. He had too good reason to
be apprehensive of Avrong at his hands, not to be justified in
taking the step he took, so far as his father-in-law might think
he had any cause of complaint. He avows his fear, as a fear
for which he had too good ground ; " I said, Peradventure thou
wouldest take by force thy daughters from me" (ver. 31).
He is not to be taken in by a hypocritical show of friendship.
As to the other charge about the theft of the gods, Jacob
treats it with a sort of summary contempt. He may well
regard it as an accusation got up by Laban to be the occasion
of a fresh act of treachery and wrong. The unscrupulous
Syrian, while pretending to obey the divine voice, — that he
should not, either by flattery or by threats, attempt to stay
Jacob as a fugitive servant, — is trying to get round him
another way. I have nothing to say, good or bad, as to the
60 THE PARTING OF LAB AN AND JACOB.
manner of your quitting my service. Your God, it seems, tlie
God of your fathers, forbids me to reckon with you, as other-
mse I might have a good right to reckon with you, for that.
But the impunity thus secured to you for your flight cannot
be meant to cover theft or sacrilege. Why hast thou stolen
my gods? (ver. 30).
This looks at least very like a subterfuge or an after-
thought on the part of Laban ; and Jacob so regarded it, —
putting upon it, naturally enough, a construction fully war-
ranted by his knowledge of the man, and his experience of
his consummate skill, as a master in the school of cunning.
Hence his bold reply. First, he simply defends himself, and
challenges his accuser to the proof — " with whomsoever thou
findest thy gods, let him not live" (ver. 31, 32). And
then, — Kachel's device (ver. 32-35) keeping him as well as
her father in the dark, — he vehemently speaks out his mind
in the honest indignation of injured innocence ; giving vent
at last in one burst of invective to his pent-up feelings.
" Jacob was wroth, and chode with Laban," saying to him,
" What is my trespass 1 what is my sin, that thou hast so hotly
pursued after me 1 " The hunted victim stands at bay. He
rehearses his wrongs ; he taunts the wrong-doer ; he will own
no obligation to him or to his forbearance ; the Lord alone
has been his helper. " Except the God of my father, the God
of Abraham, and the fear of Isaac, had been with me, surely
thou hadst sent me away now empty. God hath seen mine
affliction and the labour of my hands, and rebuked thee
yesternight" (ver. 36-42).
True to his character to the last, the wily Laban receives
Jacob's torrent of invective with affected meekness. Assum-
ing an air of moderation, maldng allowance for his son-in-
law's vehemence, he professes himself willing to waive his
rights. These wives of thine and their children are indeed
all mine ; I might claim them as mine. And the cattle are
all mine. But what then 1 What can I do now 1 Far be it
THE PARTING OF L.iBAN AND JACOB. 61
from me to proceed to extremity. Come, let us be friends.
If we must part, let us part in peace, and let us ratify a part-
ing covenant of peace (ver. 43, 44).
The ratification of the covenant is effected by a succession
of solemn ceremonies (ver. 45-55).
First, on Jacob's suggestion, he himself setting up the first
stone for the central pillar, a monumental or memorial heap
is raised. Both parties acknowledge the pile, — each in his
own tongue giving it a name significant of its object, — " the
heap of witness," — the "beacon or watch-tower." It marks a
locality which, — under the name of Mizpah, and as some think
also, Ramoth in Gilead, — became afterwards, in the days of
the Judges and the Kings, a place of no mean importance, — a
kind of frontier town, serving even then a similar purpose to that
with a view to which it is here signalised (Joshua xiii. 26 ;
1 Kings xxii; 2 Kings viii. 28, 29, etc.). Next, "this heap
of Avitness," this " pillar of witness," is constituted by Laban
in a very solemn manner the seal or symbol of an appeal to
t])e Most High : " The Lord watch between me and thee,
when we are absent one from another " (ver. 49). God is to
be witness, if Jacob afflict or Avrong the daughters of Laban
(ver. 50). And he is to judge between them if either party
pass this limit for hurt or harm to the other (ver. 51.) The
oath is taken by each according to his faith. Laban's adjura-
tion is, " The God of Abraham, and the God of Nahor, and
the God of their father judge betwixt us ; while Jacob sware
by the fear of his father Isaac " (ver. 52). Some common
ground they have. Each of them believed that the God he
worshipped was the God of Abraham. But Laban knew him
only as the God of Abraham's father ; Jacob knew him as
the God of Abraham's son. Laban recognised him as he was
wont to be traditionally recognised in the family to which
Abraham originally belonged. Jacob acknowledged him in
the character which he had assumed, by a new revelation, as
the God of Abraham's seed, — " the Fear," therefore " of his
62 THE PARTING OF LABAN AND JACOB.
father Isaac." Thus they understood one another, as mutually
binding themselves, by the most solemn vow that each could
take. The transaction is completed by a sacrifice on Jacob's
part, and a sort of sacrificial feast : " Then Jacob offered
sacrifice upon the mount, and called his brethren to eat bread:
and they did eat bread, and tarried all night in the mount "
(ver. 54).
And now nothing remains but the bidding of a long and
last farewell : — " Early in the morning Laban rose up and
kissed his sons and his daughters, and blessed them : and
Laban departed, and returned unto his place " (ver. 55). It
is a quiet ending of a troubled history. The curtain falls on
the Syrian act of the drama. And the last we see of it is the
kiss of charity and the blessing of peace.
THE TWO ARMIES — THE FEAR OF IVIAN. 63
XLV.
THE TWO ARMIES— THE FEAR OF MAN— THE FAITH
WHICH PREVAILS WITH GOD.
Genesis xxxii.
The company of two armies. — Song of Solomon vi. 13.
As Jacob had been dismissed from the land of promise by a
vision of angels, so a troop of angels are in waiting to wel-
come his return. " The angels of God met him. And when
Jacob saw them, he said. This is God's host : and he called
the name of that place Mahanaim;" that is, "two hosts, or
camps " (ver. 2).
Why a name signifying " two hosts," or " two camps," or
'' a double army " {mahanaim), is used to denote what Jacob
saw — for he meant evidently to call the place from the event,
— is a doubtful matter of inquiry. That the angelic company
divided themselves into two bands, — so as to cover the pa-
triarch's train in front and rear, or on either flank, — is a view
suggested by such expressions as that of the Psalmist, " Tlie
angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him,
and delivereth them " (Ps. xxxiv. 7), and that of the prophet,
"I will encamp about mine house because of the enemy"
(Zech. ix. 8). On the other hand, Jacob seems to regard the
angels as one single body, when he says, " This is God's host ;"
and it is at least as probable a supposition as the other, that the
duplication of this host, or its branching into two, indicated
in the name he gives the spot, may arise from his associating
with the heavenly attendants visible from above, his own
64 THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAN.
array of pilgrims treading the earth below. " We are two
camps, — two hosts !" — he may be regarded as gladly and
gratefully exclaiming, for the encouragement of his followers
and himself. We are not a mere feeble and defenceless handful of
women, children, and cattle, but two aniiies ! This retinue of
angels is God's host ; and it is on our side. And they and
we together form a double encampment, and a double line of
battle. How great then is our security! How in"\dncible
are we ! How strong may we be !
The only other instance in Scripture of the use of the
term here employed is to be found in the Song of Solomon ;
and the two uses of it, there and here, may throw light on its
meaning, and on the meaning of the passages in which it
occurs. Referring to the spouse, an ap23eal is made ; " Return,
return, 0 Shulamite ; return, return, that we may look upon
thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite ? As it were the
company of two armies" — or " Mahanaim" (Song vi. 13).
The image in that passage is undoubtedly a strange one ;
the spouse compares herself to an army. Or rather, perhaps,
she is compared to an army by the bridegroom and his associ-
ates ; — " Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as
the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with
banners'?" (ver, 10). So they hail her as an army ; and she
is content to be vieAved in that character. But it must be a
double army that she consents to personate ; — she cannot
otherwise be terrible to any adversary, be he human, or
Satanic, or divine ; she cannot otherwise, as an army, display
her banners in successful battle or triumphant \dctory. Her
being saluted thus, as an army, is a plain enough indication to
her that she has a warfare to wage, — a fight to sustain. It
may be to meet the onset of an angry brother ; it may even
be to bear the brunt of an assault on the part of the Lord
himself, to chasten or to prove her. But whether it is man's
violence that she is to withstand, or the close onset of the
Angel Jehovah wrestling with her vehemently, she can make
THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAN. 65
head only as a double army. Alone, she is too feeble to
stand in battle array ; but when the angels of God meet her,
she is two hosts. And it is only as two hosts that she can
prevail. Therefore if the spouse is to be an army at all, she
must be a double army,— having, as it were, a heavenly
duplicate of herself associated with her. Only thus can she
face a hostile Esau. Only thus can she stand the encounter
of her loving Lord.
But the heavenly fellowship of angels, in so far as it is
matter of sense and sight, is rare and brief ; their visits are
few and far between. The patriarch is still in the flesh ; and
" the life which he has to live in the flesh, he has to live by
faith," — and the prayer of faith. Once, in some fourteen, or
twice fourteen, years, the believer may be " caught up into the
third heavens," to behold inconceivable glories and overhear
unspeakable words (2 Cor. xii. 4). On some critical occasions
the heavenly hosts may meet the weary wanderer. But he
must be made to feel that earth is still the scene of his pil-
grimage and probation, and that earthly work and warfare
must be attended to. The business on hand is the earthly
walk and the earthly struggle. The land of promise is to be
reached. And Esau is in the way.
Into the feelings of Jacob mth reference to his brother, it
may be difficult for us to penetrate ; for on the surface of the
narrative, little appears that can throw light on them.
That he was honestly anxious to adopt measures of concilia-
tion, is x^lain from the embassy he sent, and from the words
he put into the mouths of his ambassadors : " Thus shall ye
speak unto my lord Esau ; Thy servant Jacob saith thus, I
have sojourned with Laban, and stayed there until now :
and I have oxen, and asses, flocks, and menservants, and
womenservants : and I have sent to tell my lord, that I may
find grace in thy sight" (ver. 3, 4, 5). The message in itself,
and particularly as explained by the subsequent interview,
amounted virtually to a concession to Esau of all the temporal
VOL. n. F
66 THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAX.
benefits of the disputed birthright. Jacob was in haste to
give up to him the title of superiority, and the higher rank
belonging to the first-born, — and to intimate that he neither
needed nor sought any part of the hereditary patrimony. He
had enough of his own, through the kind providence of God,
and had no wish to interfere with anything that Esau cared
to claim ; — for as to the spiritual privileges of the birth-
right, Esau had made it too plain that he felt but little con-
cern.
On the other hand, we cannot but gather from the report
brought back to Jacob, that Esau's approach was of a hostile
character ; — such at least was the impression conveyed to
Jacob ; — " The messengers returned to Jacob, saying, We came
to thy brother Esau, and also he cometh to meet thee, and
four hundred men with him. Then Jacob was greatly afraid
and distressed" (ver. 6, 7). Notwithstanding what we cannot
but admire in his reception of his brother when they actually
met, there is no meaning in the inspired account, if it is not
to be understood as implying that Esau did at first intend
measures of hostility and revenge. No doubt, — as an evil
conscience makes cowards of us all, — Jacob's sense of the
offence he had formerly given to Esau may have rendered him
suspicious and apprehensive ; that may be true. But he must
have had more to go upon when his fears prevailed so much.
And unless we suppose Esau to have dissembled for the pur-
pose of surprising his brother by unexpected kindness — and
there is not a trace of any such refinement in the record, nor
does it agree with the impetuous character of the man — he
must be viewed as hastily rejecting Jacob's proposals of friend-
ship, and continuing his adverse march towards him.
No wonder, then, that in the circumstances Jacob experi-
enced a bitter feeling of disappointment, and was put into
serious alarm. He was unaccustomed to battle. He was
familiar only with pastoral and peaceful occuj^ations. And
now he was about to encounter one who had been a man of
THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAX. HI
stern action, involved in the strife of war, or of the chase, from
his earliest youth. Nor was he provided with an armed convoj^
or any sufficient means of resistance. One part of the army he
had around him might consist of the invisible hosts of heaven ;
but the other was composed of " the mother with the child-
ren" (ver. 11). In these straits, what does Jacob do?
First, he takes measures for securing the safety of at least
a portion of his company ; — " He divided the people that wa^
with him, and the flocks, and herds, and the camels, into two
bands ; and said, if Esau come to the one company, and smite
it, then the other company which is left shall escape" (ver. 7,
8). His plan is in accordance, as we are told by some writers,
with Eastern usages ; it would be considered a wise and proper
precaution in a similar emergency even now. But it does
seem to savour somewhat of Jacob's natural disposition to cal-
culate and scheme for himself, instead of simply doing his
duty, and trusting implicitly in the Lord. The se^^aration of
his household, especially in the view of the reason assigned for
it, does not commend itself to our ideas of what is chivalrous
and brave. We would rather that all should have run the
same risk together. But we cannot well judge, at so great a
distance of time, and at a still greater distance of manners,
how far Jacob's policy might be justified.
His second expedient we can better estimate. He has re-
course to prayer. And his prayer has several evident marks
of its being really the prayer of genuine faith.
In the first place, he lays hold of the covenant ; — " 0 God
of my father Abraham, and God of my father Isaac, the Lord
which saidst unto me, Return unto thy country, and to thy
kindred, and I will deal well with thee" (ver. 9). He thus
appeals to God as in covenant with his fathers and himself. He
relies on the promise made to Abraham and to Isaac ; and he
appropriates it as his own. Secondly, he confesses his unworthi-
ness, and his obligation to free and sovereign grace alone ; — " I
am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the
68 THE TWO ARMIES — THE FEAR OF MAN.
truth, which thou hast showed unto thy servant ; for with my
staif I passed over this Jordan ; and now I am become two
bands " (ver. 1 0). Thirdly, he looks to the Lord, and none else,
for deliverance out of his brother's hand ; — " Deliver me, I pray
thee, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau : for
I fear him, lest he will come and smite me, and the mother
with the children" (ver. 11). And in the fourth place, he
takes his stand on the sure word of God ; — putting the Lord
in mind of his own express assurance with reference to the
future fortune of his race ; — " Thou saidst, I will surely do
thee good, and make thy seed as the sand of the sea, which
cannot be numbered for multitude " (ver. 1 2).
If anything amiss is to be noted in the prayer, it is the
tendency v/hich it indicates, on the one hand, to regard the
opposition of Esau as the only obstacle in his way to Canaan,
and on the other hand, to reckon, — somewhat too much in the
spirit of self-righteousness, — on a sort of hereditary and per-
sonal title to the favour and help of God. It is Esau who
has a controversy with him ; and in that controversy the
Lord must needs be on his side. He is soon to be taught,
by a very sharp lesson, how inadequate a view this is of
his true position in the sight of God.
For the present, however, he is thinking only of Esau as
his adversary ; and he carries out his plan of operation upon
that assumption. He sends on successive droves, to be offered
one after another, as propitiatory presents to his brother.
That was his scheme ; — " For he said, I Avill appease him with
the present that goeth before me, and afterward I will see his
face; peradventure he will accept of me" (ver. 20). So the
(lay was spent. " The present went over before him : and he
himself lodged that night in the company" (ver. 21). Under
cloud of darkness, he effected the passage of his family ; and
he was "left alone" (ver. 24).
But the Lord has a controversy with Jacob ; he is to be
made to feel that Esau is not his most formidable adversary.
THE TWO ARMIES — THE FEAR OF MAN. 69
The Lord is to deal with him as an adversary ; — first turning
his strength into weakness ; — and then causing him to know
by experience that " when he is weak then he is strong " (2
Cor. xii. 1 0). Hence the scene of the wrestling.
When Christ says that " the kingdom of heaven suffereth
violence, and the violent take it by force," — he may be refer-
ring, in part at least, to this transaction. He is describing the
ministry of his forerunner ; and he is describing it as a crisis,
not only in the history of the church, but in its bearing also
on the duty and destiny of individuals.
" AVhat went ye out into the wilderness to see 1 " What
did your going out into the wilderness mean ? Was it an idle
jest 1 Did you go to be befooled by a reed shaken with the
wind ? Or was it a holiday excursion 1 Did you go to have
your eyes dazzled by a man clothed in soft raiment ^ Was it
as light an affair as the taking of a careless ramble in the
common 1 Or was it as mere a matter of form as the paying
of a stately visit at court, where gorgeous ceremony dwells ]
No ! You knew that you had more serious work on hand ;
you felt that the hour and the man were come ; it was indeed
a critical time. A new and fresh era had arrived. It was to be
now or never. The old routine of a mere passive yielding
to impulse, or devotion to etiquette, would suffice no longer.
Listless, half-awake, childish curiosity, pleased with every
shaken reed, will not do. Vacant wondering after a sumptu-
ous or solemn dress, such as piety may wear in kings' houses,
will not do. Both must give place to something sterner and
more real. Religion, as John's preaching forces it on our
regard, is neither sport nor show, but close conflict and strife.
That is the lesson which Jacob is now taught. Left alone,
and preparing to follow his family and goods across the brook,
he is suddenly and forcibly stopped. An unexpected antagonist
meets him, and a sort of death-struggle ensues. Who his assailant
is, Jacob cannot at first even guess ; but the force of the onset is
70 THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAX.
felt. The two parties grapple in right earnest ; and there is
wrestling, as between man and man, till the breaking of the day.
Jacob makes a stout resistance ; he is not to be intercepted
on his way to Canaan ; he is determined to possess the land ;
and be his adversary who he may, he shall not hinder him.
The struggle waxes desperate, and Jacob yields not an inch.
He who has thus attacked him as a foe gains no advantage.
But all at once, upon a single touch from the hand of this
m^^sterious combatant, there is a shrinking of Jacob's sinews,
a halting upon his thigh, a trembling of his knees, — a " pierc-
ing," as it were, " even to the dividing asunder of the joints
and marrow " (Heb. iv. 1 2). Helpless, lame, and ready to
fall, he can but cling with desj^erate tenacity to the very Being
who has so sorely smitten him.
Not to prolong the conflict, however, does he cling to this
strong adversary, now discovered to be divine ; — no, nor even
to beg for his mere life, though now so evidently at the mercy
of his seeming foe ; but — oh wondrous importunity in such a
case ! — to deprecate his departure, — to insist on detaining him
when he would be gone, — to crave his blessing !
Surely, 0 Jacob, " great is thy faith ! " Might it not be
enough for thee to escape death at the hands of this formidable
•' man of war," as he with whom thou hast to do proves him-
self to be 1 (Exod. xv. 3). Thou mightest be too thankful to
])e left by him prostrate on the ground, and to get rid, on any
terms, of his contending with thee. But no. Jacob has dis-
covered who this " man of war " is, and he will not let him
go until he get his blessing.
The opposition which God offers to Jacob, and Jacob's
resistance, — the sudden weakening of his strength, and his
subsequent importunity, — are all spiritually significant.
God takes the attitude and aspect of an adversary, fight-
ing against Jacob ; and Jacob stoutly resists and maintains
his ground. There is vehement wrestling all the night ; and
THE TWO ARMIES — THE FEAR OF MAN. 71
there is this peculiarity in the wrestling, that it is the hea-
venly combatant who acts the part of the assailant ; Jacob
stands on the defensive. At first he might be inclined to
regard the interruption as rather vexatious and impertinent
than serious. It must be some idle fellow bent on mere
annoyance or a frolic ; it will cost but a moment to chastise
his insolence and be rid of him. But he finds that this is
more than a mere holiday wrestling-match, and that it is not
to be so soon or so easily ended.
AVho then can this mysterious adversary be, coming be-
tv/een me and the w^ork I have to do 1 Can it be a secret
emissary of Esau's — a hired bravo or assassin, or one of his
followers bent on carrying that old threat into execution — '*' I
will slay my brother Jacob V No. That is not Esau's mode
of warfare. Is it Esau's guardian angel interposing to prevent
any injury being done to him ? So the later Jews have fabled ;
but no such belief belonged to the age or the faith of Jacob.
Is it, then, the "great adversary of God's people, who w^ould fain
prevent the entrance of the patriarch into, the promised land '?
Even if it be, Jacob will not give way.
No ! Not even when he finds out that it is the very
"Angel of the Covenant himself," — the "Fear of his father
Isaac," — the God who had twice appeared to him in Bethel,
who is now stopping the way, and, as a mighty man, seeking
to overthrow him, — not even then will he gave way.
When he makes that discovery, he may have many mis-
givings ; and were his desire less intense, and his faith less
strong, in reference to the country he seeks and the promises
he has received, he might be inclined to call back his family and
flock, and wend his way again to the luxurious pastures and the
sumptuous dwelling of his kinsman Laban ; — or to some new
home among earth's many vacant places, where he might hope
to win ease and honour. If he wanted an excuse, he had it
now. It was not Esau only who threatened him ; God him-
self was against him. After a decent show of reluctance and
72 THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAN.
pretence of resistance, he might have submitted to necessity, as
it might have appeared, and turned his back on Canaan.
But he would not. His longing for Canaan was too
intense, — his warrant for claiming it too clear, — to admit of
his giving it up. God had taught him to look for it ; God
had given him the promise of it. And now, not even when
God himself seems to be against him, will he be beaten back.
He may wrestle with me, but " though he slay me, yet will I
trust in him." He shall not hinder me, while I have life,
from passing this brook.
Again I say — 0 Jacob ! great is thy faith ! It is like
the faith of one who, though not thy child after the flesh,
was yet like-minded with thee, in the days when that divine
Saviour who wrestled with thee dwelt on the earth, and w^ent
about doing good. The woman, who was " a Greek, a Syro-
phenician by nation" (Mark vii. 26), coming to Chri«t on
behalf of her poor daughter, met with much the same treat-
ment with thyself; and like thee, she was not to be overcome.
Jesus wrestled with her, — dealt with her harshly, — spurned
her, it might almost seem with his foot, — and called her dog.
But she stood her ground. The divine Wrestler saw that he
prevailed not against her ; he was as it were forced to give
in ; the kingdom of heaven suffered violence, and this violent
assailant took it by force ; — " 0 woman, great is thy faith ;
be it unto thee even as thou wilt " (Mat. xv. 28).
This wrestling of God their Saviour with those who seek
his salvation, is not uncommon in the experience of his saints.
Nor is it, as they can testify but too sadly, a mere show or feint
on his part. It is not that he makes as if he fought ; — as it is
said when he was with the disciples on the way to Emmaus
that " he made as if he would have passed on." It is not what
we might call a make-believe fight, got up for the mere trial
of their spirits. No. It is a real antagonism and opposition
that they have to encounter. The Lord has a controversy
with them, and does really set himself against them.
THE TWO ARMIES THE FEAR OF MAN. 73
Is any sinner, for instance, moved to quit tlie land where he
has been dwelling too long, and to take the staff of a pilgrim,
and set out on the path to heaven 1 He has every encourage-
ment in doing so — " exceeding great and precious promises,
whereby he is made partaker of the divine nature." Still he
must lay his account with difficulties. He may be hotly pur-
sued by those who fancy themselves injured by his going
away, — persecuted by old companions, — harassed by old
claims, and outstanding engagements and entanglements.
Before him, also, he may anticipate coming evil ; and reaping
the fruit of former offences, he may have fears and mis-
givings as to enemies to whom his conscience tells him he
has given an advantage. All this he may be prepared for.
But on some dreary night of watching and anxiety, I have
to encounter a higher foe. God, the very God who has moved
and encouraged me to take the decisive step, comes out as
wrestling wdth me. He, too, is felt to be turning against
me ; and it seems as if it were all over with my chance of
ever reaching heaven. I may as well give up the unavailing
struggle and return to my worldly ease and unconcern again.
So Satan and the world would have me resolve ; so also
does my own heart tempt me to resolve ; and if my sense
of eternal realities be faint, and my care for the salvation of
my soul slight, — so unhappily I may resolve.
But far be such a thought from the man who is in earnest.
God may buffet me, if it so please him ; yes, he may slay me.
But I cannot do without the salvation of my soul. Nay, now
that God has put it into my heart to care for the salvation
of my soul, not God himself, even when he m.eets me in his
wrath, shall make me willingly give in.
JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB's.
XLVL
JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB'S.
Genesis xxxii. 24-32.
This mysterious duel or single combat, — this marvellous
wrestling-match, — may be viewed as having two stages. In
the first, Jacob is put by his divine adversary upon his de-
fence. In the second, he appears as the assailant.
The scene opens with a violent and prolonged assault upon
Jacob, on the part of an antagonist in human form, at first
unknown. He turns out to be no other than the Angel of
the Covenant, the Lord himself. And it is that discovery
which gives its peculiar point and interest to the incident.
It is an instance, in its first stage, not of man wrestling
with God, but of God wrestling with man ; the Lord striving,
in an attitude of opposition, — not feigned but real, — and
striving vehemently, in a protracted encounter, with a poor
child of the dust, — who yet, so far from pelding, even under
the onset of so mighty an antagonist, stoutly resists and stands
ujj to him manfully. This, Jacob felt, was the fight in which
he was engaged.
And others also have felt the same thing. In particular,
more than one or two of the Old Testament saints describe a
certain crisis of their experience in such language; — borrowed,
perhaps, from this very record of Jacob's memorable duel ; — as
plainly indicates that they regarded God as dealing with them
precisely as he dealt with Jacob. No doubt, it may be a
spiritual combat to which they refer, and not one that is merely
' JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB'S. 75
physical and bodily. But surely, in Jacob's case, there
must have been an apprehension of some spiritual meaning
being connected with the bodily wrestling ; and in the case of
the others, there is often some affection of the body associated
with their spiritual frame.
The language of Hezekiah, for instance, as to the sickness
from which he got a temporary respite, is remarkable in this
view. He describes the dealings of the Lord with him under
this very image of a violent onset ; — " He will cut me off with
pining sickness : from day even to night wilt thou make an
end of me. I reckoned till morning, that as a lion, so will he
break all my bones : from day even to night wilt thou make
an end of me." Thus he complains ; while at the same time
he cries, " 0 Lord, I am oppressed ; undertake for me " (Is.
xxxviii. 12-14). So also Jeremiah speaks ; — " Surely against
me is he turned ; he turneth his hand against me all the day.
My flesh and my skin hath he made old ; he hath broken my
bones. He was unto me as a bear lying in wait, and as a lion
in secret places" (Lam. iii. 3-10).
But it is chiefly Job's experience that is here relevant.
For perhaps the closest parallel, in a spiritual point of view,
to the Angel's wrestling with Jacob and its gracious issue, is
to be found in the sharp trial which Job had to undergo as
he describes it graphically and most pathetically in one of his
sorest experiences ; — " Thou huntest me as a fierce lion : and
again thou shewest thyself marvellous uj^on me. Thou re-
newest thy witnesses against me, and increasest thine indigna-
tion upon me ; changes and Avar are against me." " Are not
my days few ? cease then, and let me alone" (Job x. 16-20).
Consider, in this view, the case of Job.
There was a terrible onset made on him at the instigation
of Satan. " Doth Job fear God for nought f is Satan's chal-
lenge to Jehovah ; — " Put forth thy hand, and touch all that
he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face." In answer to
this challenge, Satan is allowed to have his own way ; he is
76 JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB's,
to see the Lord 23iitting forth his hand against Job. All that
Job has is touched ; messenger after messenger pours into the
patriarch's ear the tidings of oxen, asses, sheep, servants, sons,
daughters, — all, as by one fell stroke and sweep of doom,
gone ! In the twinkling of an eye, the rich householder, the
fond father, is a beggar, and childless ! Wliose doing is that 1
Satan's, in one view ; — for it is done on his suggestion ; and
therefore it may be said, — as the Lord says, — that " Job is in
Satan's power." But strictly and truly, it must be held to
be the Lord's own doing. It is the Lord himself who smites ;
— otherwise Satan's challenge is not met. He meant the trial
to be that the Lord — not he, but the Lord — should put forth
his hand and touch all Job's possessions. That must be the
character and aspect of the procedure against Job. And in
that light, accordingly, Job regarded it when he said ; — " The
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the
name of the Lord" (i. 21).
This is true also of the still closer onset on Job's person
which the malignant spirit is permitted to suggest, and in
which he is permited to have some part (ii. 1-10).
The Lord says indeed to Satan: — "Behold he is in thine
hand ; only save his life." The patriarch is in Satan's hand, —
inasmuch as it is upon his motion, as it were, that this second
part of the trial, like the first, is appointed. And in it, as in
the former, Satan is active and busy. But, if it is to answer
his purpose, it is as an infliction of God that he must use
it ; — the trial must be felt by the poor sufl'erer to come im-
mediately from the Lord.
Doth Job fear God for nought 1 Will he fear God, when
God is not for him but against him 1 So Satan, this second
time, moves the Lord against Job. And Job, when he is smitten
from head to foot, understands it to be the Lord's doing.
AVhat ! he says, in answer to what he calls the foolish speech
of his wife, — " Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and
shall we not receive eviU"
' JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB's. 77
Tims all throughout it is the Lord who is dealing with
Job, and Job apprehends it to be so.
Now observe Job's bearing under this fierce onset of the
Lord against him ; — instigated by Satan, and embittered by
Satan's interference in the fray ; — but still felt to be the Lord's.
Observe it in connection with the advice given him by his
wife on the one hand, and his three friends on the other.
I. The wife of his bosom entices Job to one sort of bearing
under this onset ; " Dost thou still retain thine integrity 1 curse
God and die " (ii. 9). That is what Satan said Job would do ;
and that is what his own wife would have him to do. He whom
thou hast been accustomed to reverence and love is against thee
now. Of what avail is thine integrity 1 Plainly thou art no
more a favourite with him ; he could not treat thee worse if
thou wert his worst enemy. Thou must perish after all, it
seems, in spite of all thy fear of him, and all his seeming good-
ness to thee hitherto. Be it so. Let there be an end of this
fond dotage of thinking thou canst gain anything by holding
on by one who so uses thee. Accept thy fate ; cursing, for
thou canst not help cursing, as thou acceptest it, the Being
who has led thee thus far, on the faith of assurances thou never
couldst doubt, — and who now, as thou must feel, is so unre-
lentingly destroying thee.
That is one way of meeting the Lord's wrestling with
me to which I may be tempted ; but it was not the way
of Job. He met God in the erect and upright port of a
manly faith. He is resolved not to take amiss anything that
God permits or does. He will hold on and stand firm,
even when, as it might seem, the Lord is most against
him. And he fortifies his courage by that argument which
so well becomes the lips of a dependent creature, — undeserving
of any good, — deserving of all evil — " Shall we receive good
at the hands of the Lord, and shall we not receive evill"
" In all this Job sinned not, nor charged God foolishly"
(i. 22). " In all this did not Job sin with his lips " (ii. 10).
78 JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB'S.
II. The same testimony is not recorded as to Job's bear-
ing up against the onset of the Lord against him, under the
advice given him by his friends. They would have him to
meet the divine wrestler in a different frame of mind from
that which his wife has been recommending. Their reasoning
is all in the line, not of despair and defiance, but of abject
prostration.
They start from the principle that great suffering is a proof
of great sin (John ix. 2 ; Luke xiii. 1-5) ; their whole object
being to make it palpable to Job, that because he is a great
sufferer, he must be a great sinner. They urge him to confess
some great crime. They insist upon his acknowledging that
the Lord's present mode of dealing -wdth him, — his WTestling
with him so terribly, — is a proof that all his previous walk
with God has been hypocrisy, and all his experience of God's
favour a delusion and a dream. All their lengthened and
elaborate dissertations on the providence of God, with which
they wearied the afflicted patriarch, — " talking to the grief of
him whom God was wounding," — turned upon the one strain,
in which they would have their suffering friend to acquiesce,
that because he was a sufferer more than other men, therefore
he was more than other men a sinner. It Avas not that he
should say, irrespectively of this wrestling of the Lord with
him, what might be equivalent to the saying, long after, of one
nearly as sorely tried as he was, and proved by trial to be
as true : — " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accept-
ation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners ;
of whom I am chief." No. It was not that. They would
have him to interpret this wrestling of the Lord with him as
in itself a sure evidence and mark of his having no standing
at all before God as a righteous man, — a man justified and
accepted in his sight.
This Job refuses to do. He combats the arguments of his
friends, by calling in question their fundamental principle, ac-
cording to which they would square the manifold and varied
' JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB'S. 79
aspects of the providence of God to their own rigid notion of
what we have learned to call poetic justice, — that every man
must be held to be treated by God, even in this life, exactly as
he deserves. As a general principle, the patriarch controverts it.
And in reference to its application to himself, he stoutly and
indignantly refuses to let go his consciousness of his upright-
ness. He would not listen to the impious suggestion of his
wife that he should let go his integrity, and renounce the fear
and service of one who seems to be so dead-set against hmi.
Neither will he listen to the poor special-pleading of his friends,
who would have him to own that he has no integrity to let
go, — that all his fear and service of God has been false and
hollow, — and that it is proved to be so by his present trouble.
The controversy is long ; the contrast striking.
See these three men, Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar. They " come
to mourn with Job and to comfort him." They weep and
rend their clothes and sprinkle dust upon their heads. They
sit with him seven long days and nights in silence. Surely
they sympathise with him. It may be so ; but they must
search him also. Sleek they are themselves, and smooth ;
having a comfortable opinion of their own righteousness and
their right standing with God. In their personal experience,
godliness is literally gain ; \'irtue is its own reward ; they are
religious and prosperous citizens ; prosperous, perhaps, because
religious. And here is one who has been more prosperous than
any of them, and Avho has had the character and reputation of
being more religious also. And how do they find him now 1
Ah ! we must be faithful to him. We must tell him
plainly that the Lord's present wrestling with him is sure evi-
dence that all along, as regards his relation to God and his
acceptance in God's sight, there has been something radically
wrong. It must be so. To account for so formidable an as-
sault of God upon him, we must assume that there is some
dark criminality lying at the bottom of our friend's religion,
and vitiating it all. For some hidden fault or falsehood, God
80 JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB's.
is thus setting himself against him, and it must be our task to
bring him to confession. "Wliile we comfort him, we must deal
truly with him. He must be made to see and feel what this
wrestling of God with him means ; — how it should smite him,
as a deceiver of others and of himself, to the ground, and make
him own that his whole walk with God hitherto has been a
dream or a lie. That is the end v/hich the friends have in
view, in all their conversations. For that end, they enlarge
on the common-places of the doctrine of providence. Their
speeches have in them many sound and valuable thoughts and
observations on the subject of man's subjection to a righteous
government, and the certainty of good and evil being ulti-
mately extricated from the complications in which they are
now involved. There is truth, and important truth, of a gene-
ral sort, in their reasonings. That indeed was what fitted
them for being the apt ministers of Satan, in causing the
Lord's sharp A^Testling with him to bear so heavily as it did
on Job. They were so sound in the faith as to God's govern-
ment being a government under which the distinction between
good and evil never can be lost sight of; they said so many
admirable things in praise of virtue and uprightness, as being
always honoured and rewarded, and in condemnation of vice
and hypocrisy, as sure to be detected and exposed; — that it
must have been very hard indeed for the unhappy \dctim of
their consolation to bear up against their reiterated assertion
or insinuation, that the Lord, in wrestling with him, was re-
jecting him as false-hearted, and condemning him as still a
guilty and guileful sinner.
But he does bear up ; he stands upon the consciousness of
his integrity. He will not allow the Lord's present dealing
with him, however painful and however humbling, to over-
throw his confidence. He will not, to please his friends, con-
fess himself a h}T30crite or self-deceiver ; he cannot believe
that that is what the Lord, who is wrestling Avitli him, would
have him to do. He knows both the faithfulness of his God
JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB's. 81
and the honest}' of his own heart too well, to put such a con-
struction on the treatment which he is now receiving, however
adverse and hostile a look it may have. He will not so stul-
tify himself and make void his faith. Even when God is rush-
ing upon him as an antagonist, he will maintain his ground,
and make good his cause. He will not be beaten down ; he
will not give way or give in.
It is this high-spirited assertion of his uprightness, — run-
ning through all his speeches, mingling itself with all his woeful
lamentations, his sad. and bitter com23laints and cries, — it is
this that imparts so deep a pathos to the plaintive utterances
of this sorely afflicted man. We see him sitting alone, deso-
late and bereaved, covered all over with a loathsome malady,
writhing under intolerable pain of body, tortured in spirit, the
wife of his bosom turned against him to tempt him, his fa-
miliar friends pouring dreary platitudes into his vexed and
aching ears. Most touching are his melancholy wailings, ex-
pressive of present unutterable grief, as well as his tender
reminiscences of better and brighter dsijs. But more touch-
ing still is his stern determination to refuse for one moment
to abandon the footing he has got for himself, as a true and
upright servant of the living God. Plied to utter weariness
with all Satanic temptations, — solicited on religious grounds to
admit that God is casting him away as a false professor, —
pressed by the endlessly reiterated common-places of his three
" miserable comforters " to acknowledsre himself to be one
whom for some great sin God is justly punishing and reject-
ing ; — they would make him out to be a murderer, or secret
criminal, whom, though he had escaped man's notice and judg-
ment, God's vengeance would not suflfer to live ; — still the
smitten patriarch stands up for himself and for his God. He
knows that his righteousness is not a lie. He has not been
false in serving God ; he repudiates the imputation. Even
when God is moved to be against him, he will not admit so
foul a charge.
VOL. TL fj
82 Jacob's trial analogous to job's.
So far it is a noble as well as an affecting spectacle ; — like
what the heathen poets said was a sight worthy of the gods, a
good man suffering adversity. So far also it is acceptable to
God ; — -more acceptable at all events than if Job had assumed
the other attitude which his friends urged him to assume, —
and, false alike to God and to himself, had consented to
count himself a castaway.
But yet the lesson of this wrestling is not fully learned —
its object is not fully gained — until, rescuing him out of the
toils of the three messengers of Satan who were so vehemently
buffeting him, — first a true apostle of the Lord, Elihu, — and
then the Lord himself in person, — open up to him the mean-
ing of this whole procedure ; causing him to see the glory of
him who is smiting him, and in the light of that glory to see
himself.
For Job needs to be humbled ; — not as his false friends
would have had him humbled, — in false and unbelieving
abjectness of soul ; — but as the Lord alone can humble.
Elihu's testimony to this effect is true. Job, in the eagerness
of his self- vindication against the cruel surmises of his perse-
cutors, has been justifying himself rather than God. He has
indeed done w^ell in refusing to write such bitter things against
himself as these men would have had him to write ; — to put
the interpretation they would have had him to put on the
Lord's wrestling with him ; — as if it meant that the Lord was
condemning him utterly as a hypocrite. Still the Lord has
something to say to him. His wrestling with him is designed
and destined to leave behind it upon the soul of Job as deep
and lasting a mark of God's majesty and the creature's weak-
ness, as his wrestling with Jacob left on Jacob's body. The
Lord will not indeed cast off, or cast down, his servant Job.
But neither will he let him go, or cease from wrestling with
him, until he brings 1dm, in the view of the glory of the divine
majesty, and under the apprehension of his own weakness and
vileness, to cry out, — ^justifying himself no longer but justify-
JACOB'S TRIAL ANALOGOUS TO JOB'S. 83
iiig God, — " I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear ;
but now mine eye seeth thee ; wherefore I abhor myself, and
repent in dust and ashes" (xlii. 5, 6).
Thus spiritually the Lord touches the hollow of Job's
thigh, as literally he did in the case of Jacob ; and Job, like
Jacob, halts on his thigh, — his bones being out of joint. And
to Job, as to Jacob, that penetrating touch, — overmastering,
overpowering, prostrating him altogether, — is the beginning
of his power with God. It is the crisis of the conflict ;
"when he is weak, then is he strong." Subdued, smitten,
helpless, lost, — at that very moment, his defence against God
being beaten down, he assumes the offensive, taking the
kingdom by storm. It is not now any longer God wrestling
with Job ; it is Job who wrestles with God ; — " Hear, I
beseech thee, and I will speak : I will demand of thee, and
declare thou unto me ; " for " I have heard of thee by the
hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee ; wherefore I
abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes" (ver. 4-6).
It is the very experience of David. When he is thoroughly
worsted, he waxes valiant in this fight ; — " I acknowledge my
transgressions : and my sin is ever before me. — Behold, I was
shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me"
(Ps. li. 3, 5). So he cries, in his distress. He is at his last
extremity, unclean, undone ! But that is God's opportunity ;
and David knows it to be so when he becomes importunate in
prayer : — " Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean : wash
me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Make me to hear joy
and gladness ; that the bones which thou hast broken may
rejoice" (Ps. li. 7, 8).
84 THE MEETING OF JACOB AND ESAU.
XLVII.
THE MEETING OF JACOB AND ESAU— BEOTHERLY
RECONCILIATION.
Genesis xxxiii.
When Jacob got the name of Israel (xxxii. 28), it was ex-
plained to mean that not only with God, but with men also,
he had power as a prince to prevail. His power, as a prince,
to prevail with God appears in this, that the Angel, — the
Lord who came upon him as an adversary to wrestle with
him, — is constrained by his vehement and prolonged impor-
tunity to bless him. His power, as a prince, to prevail with
men appears in this, that his brother, — advancing towards him
in hostile array and with hostile intentions, — is moved, on the
first sight of the man whom he meant to crush, to shed tears
of fraternal love. This last instance of his power is indeed
but another form of the first. "V\Tien God is against him,
dealing with him so as to weaken his strength and smite liim
to the dust, Jacob cannot face an angry Esau. But when,
weakened and smitten, -v^ith broken bones and broken heart,
Jacob is yet enabled to keep hold of the very Saviour who is
wrestling with him ; — to " weep and make supplication to
him," and refuse to let him go until he receive his blessing ; —
then, this very weakness being his strength, Israel may boldly
say : " The Lord is my helper, I will not fear what man may
do unto me." Having overcome even God himself, he will
not now shrink from the face of Esau.
That Jacob is now prepared to meet Esau in a very dif-
-so
BROTHERLY RECONCILIATION. 85
ferent frame of mind from what he felt but yesterday, may be
gathered from a sKght circumstance in the narrative. He
does not arrange his household as he had proposed to do.
In his first consternation on receiving the tidings of his
brother's advance^ he thought of adopting an expedient,
savouring too much of that tendency to cowardice, and craft
as the weapon of cowardice, which formed an evil element in
Jacob's natural character, and had been aggravated by his
early training (xxxii. 7, 8). There may be wisdom in it, but
it is the wisdom of carnal and selfish prudence. The division
of his company into two bands, with his reason for it, we
cannot reconcile either with the simplicity of faith in God, or
with the affection which would have moved a right-hearted
husband, and father, and householder, to keep the objects of
his love and care together, in the time of danger, — gathering
them as, when the storm is brewing, a hen gathereth her
chickens under her wings. But now there is a change. He
marshals his family, not upon the miserable principle of risk-
ing one half for the chance of saving the other ; but alto-
gether ; in the order of his customary mode of arrangement
(xxxiii. 1 , 2). And instead of keeping in the rear himself, as
apparently he had meant to do, he takes his proper position
at their head (ver. 3).
At all events, whether we are justified or not in supposing
him to have thus changed his plan, and in putting this con-
struction upon the change, Jacob approaches Esau, not "greatly
afraid and distressed," but with confidence and courage. He
approaches him, indeed, with gestures significant of deepest
courtesy, after the usual oriental fashion. But there is
nothing abject or degrading in the salams or salutations which
he offers. He is simply carrying out the purpose which, by
his first embassy, he had intimated to his brother (xxxii. 4, 5) ;
the purpose of acknowledging him, in all temporal respects, as
the first-born ; leaving him in possession of the ci^^.l rights and
prerogatives of primogeniture ; asking no surrender of the
SG THE MEETING OF JACOB AND ESAU.
patrimonial inheritance ; but simply desiring, as a younger
brother, to be allowed to render to him the tribute of an
acceptable compliment or service. His manner now is in
entire accordance with his intention then. Holding fast
whatever spiritual benefit the conveyance of the birthright to
him and his seed may imply, — and about that there was no
likelihood of any quarrel, — Jacob is careful to show in act, as
he had said virtually in words, that as regards all else, he
waives and foregoes his claim. Hence he humbles himself
before Esau. And surely we may give him credit for doing
so sincerely — not to serve a purpose, but in good faith. Fresh
from that wondrous midnight wrestling, — " bearing in his body
the mark of the Lord" (Gal. vi. 17), — Jacob was in the very
mood to be truly humble in any human presence ; to cede any-
thing, to cede all things, except the divine favour and the
promise of the covenant ; and not in fear, but in faith, to take
anywhere contentedly the lowest place. Thus, not in fear
1)ut in faith, — all selfish pride and policy apart, — he " bowed
]iimself to the ground seven times, until he came near to his
brother" (ver. 3).
The conduct of Esau is irresistibly affecting ; and the
sim})le, artless manner in which it is narrated adds exceedingly
to the charm. The man breaks down under the impulse of
fraternal emotion ; " Esau ran to meet him, and embraced
liim, and fell on his neck, and kissed him" (ver. 4). After a
separation of more than twenty years, during which few, if
any, messages could be interchanged, he sees his long-
estranged and long-lost twin-brother again. He sees him
drawing near, in an attitude of confidence and friendship,
soliciting his favourable regard ; not presuming on any right
which past events, — the divine oracle and the paternal bene-
diction,— maybe supposed to have given him; nor on the
other hand shrinking and hanging back as if he were afraid
or ashamed ; — but coming, as brother to brother, younger
l)rother to elder brother, seeking only reconciliation and
BROTHERLY RECONCILIATION. 8/
peace. The generous soul of Esau is touched. All the
wrong he thinks he has received, — all the wrath he has been
nursing, — all is on the instant forgotten. An unarmed man,
at the head of a number of unarmed men, and women, and
children, and flocks, and herds, is casting himself on his pity
and honour. The brother with whom his days of pleasant
childhood were spent, is at his feet. Long years have passed
since offence was given and taken between them. Far older
recollections rush in upon the memory. The brothers are
twin children once more ; — " and they wept " (ver. 3).
One fears to mar the pathos of a scene like this by raising
any questions as to Esau's state of mind ; but something must
be said in the way of explanation.
That his intentions were hostile up to the very time, or
about the very time of the meeting, it is scarcely possible to
doubt. He meditated revenge. He had heard of Jacob's
proposed return to Canaan, and of his being on the way. He
had himself now got a position in "the land of Seir, the
country of Edom," such as enabled him easily to intercept his
brother's homeward journey. Estranged by his marriages
and other causes, he had removed from the land of promise
and become an independent chief. In that character he has
been dwelling in Edom after his own manner, little mindful
either of his brother Jacob or of his father Isaac. But now
he learns that Jacob is returning from his long exile in Padan-
aram, and is seeking again the paternal home. The informa-
tion stirs up all his old jealousy and anger ; the buried and
forgotten injuries of the past rise again in his memory. He
may have been thinking Kttle of the rights and privileges of
that standing in the paternal establishment about which he
was so sensitive some quarter of a century ago. But is he to
allow a younger brother, who, once and again, long ago,
injured him so deeply, to step quietly into the possession of
them ? Not if he has the power to intercept him. And lie
has the power; he can come in between the banished one
88 THE MEETING OF JACOB AND ESAU.
and the home and heritage which he seeks. He may himself
be caring little about the inheritance in the meanwhile ; but
at anyrate Jacob shall not again supplant or forestal him.
With an armed force at his command, he will call his brother
to account for the past, and effectually prevent his doing him
any farther wrong.
Such, if we fairly interpret all the circumstances of his
position, together with the unmistakeable indications of the
narrative, — such was Esau's state of mind when, rejecting
Jacob's embassy of conciliation, he came to meet him with his
army of four hundred men.
But the first sight of his brother, casting himself on his
kindness, is too much for Esau ; a man, at all events, of most
true and tender nobility of natural character, — whatever else
might be wrong about him. Doubtless he who has the hearts
of all men in his hands has been preparing Esau's soul for
this softening influence and impression. The same divine
wrestler who thoroughly humbled Jacob, has been beginning
to humble Esau too. Jacob's power to prevail with men, like
his power to prevail with God, is to be proved to consist in
his own weakness ; and to make that clear, the relenting
of his adversary is to be manifestly the Lord's doing ; the
result, not of any measure of policy or persuasion on the part
of Jacob, but of the Lord's immediate interposition to change
the mind of Esau. Still the occasion and manner of the
change, when it becomes manifest, are characteristic.
For it cannot be denied that of the two brothers, Esau
seems in this interview to act the better part, and to present
himself in the better light. Generosity is on his side, and
magnanimity ; and above all, nature.
Yes ! Esau is natural ; — so far as appears hitherto, m.erely
natural ; — a natural man ; — yet also natural in the best sense
of that term. All throughout this whole transaction his
conduct is natural ; it is all an affair of impulse. There is
no planning beforehand, no forecasting and pre-arranging, as
BROTHERLY RECONCILIATION. 89
there was on the part of Jacob. The apj)arently studied
obsequiousness of the one brother brings out in pleasing relief
or contrast the spontaneous and impulsive warmth of the
other. Esau prevents and outdoes Jacob in the reconciliation.
It seems to be nature against art.; it might almost seem to be
nature against grace ; — nature acting naturally against grace
apparently artificial and even artful.
The natural acting out of nature is always sure of
sympathy ; — hence the charm of such characters as Esau. It
is impossible, and it would not be right, to be insensible to
that charm. Our Lord him^self was moved with love to the
young man in whom he perceived many amiable and admir-
able qualities, although unhappily the love of riches caused
him, when told what he lacked, to go away grieved. Let full
justice then be done to the conduct and character of Esau,
and let the touching and tender interest of this scene be
thoroughly relished and enjoyed. Whatever memory of old
grievances may have been rankling in his mind, — whatever
temptation he may have felt to execute his old threat, —
whatever purpose of violence he may have been meditating, —
one glance at his brother's form and face, altered by years of
trying toil, yet still the same, — is enough to chase them all
away. The strong, stern man of war is a child again. He
cannot, he v/ill not, restrain himself He suffers himself to
be overcome. His tears flow fresh as he falls on his brother's
neck and kisses him. And in the mutual embrace of long-
forgotten Idndness, the breach of years is healed, and the
renewed brotherly friendship is complete.
V/hat the future course of this renewed brotherly friend-
ship was, the inspired history does not say. The progress of
the conversation would seem to indicate, on Esau's part, a
strong desire to prolong the fellowship so auspiciously resumed.
After receiving the homage of Jacob's family and attend-
ants, Esau is for declining the present, which Jacob had
sent on before (ver. 8, 9), and is only induced to accept it by
90 THE MEETING OF JACOB AND ESAU.
the appreliension that his refusal may be considered ungracious.
For Jacob urges him on that score. The present is no longer
needed to propitiate Esau's favour. That was the original de-
sign of it, — but for that design it is now superfluous. Jacob
thankfully acknowledges this : " I have seen thy face as I saw
the face of God, and thou wast pleased with me " (ver. 1 0) ;
— so the original expression may best be understood. I have
already, independently of any gift of mine, found grace and
favour in your sight ; your face I have now seen friendly to
me, even as I saw the face of God friendly to me, when my
importunity extorted the benediction. For Jacob connects the
present scene with that of the wrestling. It was before the
wrestling that he sent on the present, when he was greatly
afraid and distressed ; — probably, after the -svrestling, he would
not have sent it. He would have dispensed with so 2:>oor an
attempt to bribe his brother into forbearance, and left all to
God, whose face he had seen in peace ; not doubting, but be-
lieving that he would bring him to see his brother's face also
in peace. And so it has turned out. Your face, my brother,
I have seen, as I saw the face of God. I ask jon not now to
take my gift if it were to pacify you towards me. But it may
serve to seal the peace which God has established between us.
On that footing Esau takes it (ver. 11). But he is not inclined
to take it as a parting gift; he is not willing to let his brother
away from him again ; he assumes, as it would seem, that they
are to continue together, and at least for a time travel together ;
— " Let us take our journey, and let us go, and I will go before
thee" (ver. 12).
What does this proposal mean 1 Has some faint notion of
revisiting, along with Jacob, their aged father's dwelling, flashed
across Esau's mind ? Is his heart drawn towards Canaan again ?
Is he almost inclined to renounce his high position in Edom,
and resume the patriarchal and pilgrim life of his father Isaac,
and his grandsire Abraham 1
It may be so ; who can tell 1 But if it was so, it was in
BROTHERLY RECONCILIATION. 91
all probability, a mere passing emotion, — the natural effect of
the meeting which had so melted him ; it could not be relied
on as likely to be lasting. Jacob, therefore, acted msely, and
doubtless under divine direction, when he courteously declined
Esau's invitation, — calling his brother's attention, as if in ex-
planation of his doing so, to the difference of their modes of
life, as indicated in the very difference of their modes of travel
(ver. 13, 14). Still the proposal surely indicated good feeling;
— as did also the modified form of it, the offer of an armed
convoy to see Jacob safely through the disturbed territory
that lay before him on his way home : " Let me now leave
with thee some of the folk that are with me" (ver. 15), That
offer also, Jacob feels himself precluded from accepting : " "What
needeth it 1 let me find grace in the sight of my lord" (ver. 15).
He is not to be indebted even to his brother for his safety.
Thankful for the revival of friendly feeling between them, and
desiring Esau also to be satisfied with that, he thinks it best
that they should pursue their different paths in life apart.
And so the brothers part in peace.
Whether or not they often met again does not appear.
Jacob seems to point to his visiting his brother Esau at some
future time, when he speaks of " coming unto my lord, unto
Seir" (ver. 14). He may have fulfilled his intention, and the
friendly relations, now auspiciously re-established, may have
been confirmed and made closer by occasional intercourse from
year to year. Or it may have been otherwise. They may
have continued to live apart, with little or no interchange of
communication, either personally or by message. Perhaps it
was best that it should be so. The tender meeting may have
told upon Esau, — reflection deepening the impression of it on
his mind. He may have been led, after Jacob was gone, to
think over the circumstances of the scene, — to recognise the
finger and the Spirit of the Lord, rather than any merit of his
own, as the true cause of the good feeling which prevailed, —
and to ponder his brother's saying, " I saw the face of God."
92 THE MEETING OF JACOB AND ESAU.
If any salutary effect was ^\Touglit by the interview, on either
side, it may have been all the deeper and more lasting for the
separation that followed. Had the brothers continued long
in one another's company, or come much in contact afterwards,
their differences of taste and temperament might have led to
disagreements again, — old grudges might have been revived
in new causes of offence, — their mutual influence on one another
might not have been for good. We may be reconciled, there-
fore, to the thought of their living still apart, until we find
them once more together, as they should be, at their father's
funeral. In all likelihood, they must have met at Isaac's
deathbed, and jointly closed his eyes. At all events, it is a
not unpleasing close of a painful family story, to read how
'•' Isaac gave up the ghost, and died, and was gathered unto
his people, being old and full of days, — and his sons Esau and
Jacob buried him" (xxxv. 29).
PERSONAL DECLENSION. 93
XLVIIL
PEKSONAL DECLENSION— FAMILY SIN AND SHAME,
Genesis xxxiii. 17 ; xxxiv. 31.
Their heart was not right with him, neither were they stedfast in his
covenant. — Psalm Ixxviii, 37.
On parting with Esau, Jacob resumed his march — '' journe}^-
ing to Succoth." There he was within the border of the
promised Land once more ; so far he had obeyed the voice of
the Angel who had spoken to him in a dream, enjoining his
departure from Syria, and his homeward movement to Canaan
(xxxi. 1 3). But the obedience was very stinted ; it was ac-
cording to the letter, rather than the spirit, of the divine com-
mandment. It was such as to indicate on his part a certain
halting or hesitancy, not consistent with " following the Lord
fully." And it may be too truly surmised that it gave occasion
for the saddest and blackest page being written in the annals
of his chequered domestic history.
I. The Angel who had spoken to him had announced
himself in these words : " I am the God of Bethel, where
thou anointedst the pillar, and where thou vowedst a vow unto
me." That was the preface to the command ; " Get thee out
from this land, and return unto the land of thy kindred."
Fairly interpreted in the light of the preface, the command
pointed to Bethel as his first resting-place in Canaan, and to
the paying of his vow there as his first business. If Jacob's
heart had then been quite right with God, he would have "made
haste and not delayed to keep his commandment." He
94 PERSONAL DECLENSION.
would have felt as David felt when he " sware unto the Lord,
Surely I will not come into the tabernacle of my house, nor go
up into my bed ; I will not give sleep to mine eyes, or
slumber to mine eyelids, until I find out a place for the Lord,
an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob." But Bethel and
its vow, — and alas ! must we not add its God 1 — are for the
time forgotten or postponed. A border residence is preferred.
There may have been plausible reasons for the delay.
Perhaps he thought that, by-and-by, he and his house might
be better prepared for meeting the Lord in his own appointed
place and way, — that the taint or leaven of idolatry, of
whose working Eachel's conduct about the images gave too
convincing a proof, might be gradually purged out, — and that
it would be time enough, after they had got settled in their
new abode, and Syrian recollections and associations had been
got rid of, to carry his family up to the spot of which he
had himself been constrained to say, " How dreadful is this
place ! this is none other but the house of God, this is the
gate of heaven."
But such special pleading could ill disguise the indifference
or estrangement of his own heart. What he had to do at last
he might have done at first (xxxv. 2-5) ; he might have been
as decided now as then, in purifying and preparing his house-
hold for Bethel's holy service and joy. But his mind does
not as yet lie in that direction ; he is otherwise occupied and
attracted. He is tempted first to linger at Succoth, and then
to pitch his tent, or set up his establishment, at Shalem
(xxxiii. 17, 18).
For the world has taken, and is still keeping, too strong a
hold of the patriarch's afi'ections. He is rich in flocks and
herds ; and he is delighted with the ample accommodation
which Succoth ofl'ers. It is the very place in which to set up
stalls for his cattle ; it deserves the name of " Booths." Here
then he will dwell in the commodious house he builds for him-
self,— surrounded on every side by the hard-eanied trophies of
FAMILY SIN AND SHAME. 95
his painful and protracted Syrian service. But even Succoth
does not content him long. It is not enough that he finds
there abundance of vacant room, in which he may lodge him-
self and his cattle, for as many days or years as he may choose
to remain. He must be not a sojourner merely, as his fathers
were, but a proprietor ; he must needs purchase a permanent
habitation for himself. Hence he removes a little way and
comes to " Shalem, a city of Shechem," or comes " in peace to
the city of Shechem," — for so the words have been rendered.
It may be that he gives the name of Shalem, signifying peace, to
the " parcel of a field " which he " buys at the hand of the child-
ren of Hamor, Shechem's father, for an hundred pieces of silver "
(ver. 19). At all events, the arrangements which he makes
betoken a purpose to settle quietly here, as well as an expec-
tation that here, his pilgrimage being over, he may take his
rest in peace. This is to be his home. As such it is to be'
secured to him and his seed by the indefeasible hereditary
right of property which purchase is understood to give. As
such it is to be hallowed by the customary rites of worship ;
" he erected there an altar" (ver. 20).
This last act may seem to be an act of pious faith ; and it
is doubtless meant to be so. But may it not also be a means
of self-deception, tending to reconcile him to his neglect of
duty, — his unsteadfastness in God's covenant 1 Was it here
that he should have erected an altar ? Was there not still
waiting for him at Bethel the hallowed stone of which he had
vowed that it was to be "God's house?" And is not the
name which he gives to the altar at Shechem a name of some-
what doubtful omen, as expressive of his state of mind 1 "He
called it El-Elohe-Israel" (ver. 20),— God, the God of Israeli-
referring, doubtless, to the recent scene of the wresthng, and the
change of his name, by divine authority, from Jacob to Israel.
Is he trusting in that new name, — perhaps presuming upon it 1,
Is it as a prince, having power to prevail with God, that he
claims him as his God 1 Might he not have done well to re-
96 PERSONAL DECLENSION.
member that other title which God assumed Avhen he called
him out of Syria, from Padan-aram, to com^e back to Canaan,
— " I am the God of Bethel "1 It is with the God of Bethel
not the God of Israel, that he ought to be at present dealing.
Instead of standing on his high prerogative as acknowledged to
be Israel on the night of the wondrous wrestling, — he might
rather have been recalling and resuming his low condition,
when, as Jacob, he was a fugitive on the night of the lonely
sleep and heavenly dream. Has Israel forgotten Jacob's
vow 1 Has Israel's God ceased to be the God of Bethel 1 Has
the man who once lay trembling on his stony pillow, — the
man whose strength God weakened by the way, — waxed so
confident in his princely rank, as to shake off the memory of
the past, — ^with all its sense of dependence and all its debt of
gratitude 1 This is his infirmity. " When I am weak, then
am I strong ; " twice had he proved that great truth in his
own experience. Now, when he is strong, he is weak. It
were better for him still to be " the worm Jacob " than " the
prince Israel," — if this last distinction is to issue in his buying
land, building houses, and rearing altars with proud names, at
Sychem, — when he should be hastening, at the call of Bethel's
God, to pay his vow at Bethel's pillar.
II. This decline of Jacob's own personal religion, of which
we seem to have but too conclusive evidence, must be viewed
as having an immediate and very close connection with the
dismal family history that follows. Beginning himself to fall
away, he cannot be ruling well his household. The traces of
this want of rule thus occasioned are not far to seek ; — they
lie on the surface of the melancholy narrative (xxxiv.)
1. Dinah's fall is explained in one emphatic statement, —
" She went out to see the daughters of the land" (ver. 1). For
it is not a solitary incident that is thus indicated, but a cus-
tomary course of conduct. Instead of being a " keeper at
home," as a "discreet and chaste" maiden would have done
well to be, especially in the neighbourhood of seducing worldly
' FAMILY SIN AND SHAME. 97
society, at once ungodly and impure, — this fair and frail child
of a pious parent is suffered to be on terms of familiarity with
the giddy throng frequenting the haunts of heathen pomp and
pleasure. Surely Jacob is to be blamed. It is one of the un-
toward consequences of his halting on the border of Canaan
and stopping short of Bethel, that his family are in such cir-
cumstances of exposure to temptation as might not otherwise
have surrounded them. And it indicates relaxed discipline at
home, — if not even perhaps a fond and foolish disposition to
feel pride and take pleasure in his daughter's success among
the gay and fashionable abroad, — that Dinah is found mingling,
as it would seem, freely and without reproof, in the gay circle
in which female beauty is apt to be a snare to its possessor,
and female innocence is in danger of falling a prey to the arts
and flatteries of the seducer (ver. 2).
2. Jacob's way of receiving the tidings of his daughter's
dishonour is not creditable to him as the head of a family
professing godliness ; at least it does not commend itself to
our notions. For one thing, he seems afraid or unwilling to
judge and act for himself. He is inclined to defer too entirely
to his sons ; he will say nothing and do nothing without con-
sulting them. They were away upon their usual occupation
" with his cattle in the field ; and Jacob held his peace until
they were come" (ver. 5). This may have been a proper and
necessary measure of precaution ; to strengthen himself, by
means of their support, before treating with the man who had
so grievously wounded him in so tender a point. Or it may
have been according to the usage of the patriarchal polity, that
such an offence should be regarded as a wrong done to the
community, and in that view, should be considered only in a
common council of the tribe. Still we cannot but regret that
there should be so little of the grave authority and ripe wis-
dom of venerable age, and so much of the heady rashness of
impetuous and unbridled youth, in the management, on Israel's
part, of this miserable affair. And above all, we miss that
VOL. IL H
98 PERSONAL DECLENSION.
reference to the divine will and law in the disposal of it, which
surely we might have exjDected to find in the family delibera-
tions of a man of God.
3. Hence partly, or rather chiefly, the sad contrast which
here once more appears, between the goodness of mere nature,
in its kindlier mood, and the evil of grace, — or gracious privi-
lege and gracious profession, — perverted and abused. For, as
between the two parties brought together in this transaction,
— the Hivites and the Israelites, — the prince and people of
the land, and the prince and people of the Lord, — who can
hesitate to say on which side the preponderance of right and
amiable feeling lies 1 If only such allowance as the manners
of the world ask is made for the young man's sin at first,
what is there in the narrative that does not redound to his
credit ? Instead of despising and hating his victim, — as is too
often the case in such circumstances as his, — he continues to
be attached to her more than ever. It is simply and touch-
ingly told that " his soul clave to Dinah the daughter of
Jacob, and he loved the damsel, and spake kindly unto the
damsel" (ver. 3). He is most anxious to repair the injury he
has done to her ; nothing will content him but honourable mar-
riage. In spite of the fault in which he has been overtaken,
— and which he is so willing, as far as j^ossible, to undo, — all
our sympathy now is with the generous and faithful lover.
His father too we cannot but admire. His frank consent to
his son's proposal, when he says, " Get me this damsel to wife"
(ver. 4), and his earnest appeal on his son's behalf to Jacob
and his household, " The soul of my son Shechem longeth for
your daughter: I pray you to give her him to wife" (ver. 8),
bring this Hivite king before us in an aspect very pleasing.
Xor can we put any other than an honest and generous con-
struction on the larger overtures which he goes on to make,
for a permanent friendly union between the two houses (ver.
9, 10). Let this matrimonial treaty, — this union of my son
with your daughter, — be the auspicious inauguration of pros-
FAMILY SIN AND SHAME. 99
perous and peaceful times for both our tribes. It is in good
faith, we cannot doubt, and with all his heart, that the chief
holds out thus frankly the right hand of fellowship. And it
is a conclusive proof of his own and his father's earnestness
that Shechem gives, when he hastens to add, — speaking " unto
her father and unto her brethren," — "Let me find grace in
your eyes, and what ye shall say unto me I will give. Ask
me never so much dowry and gift, and I will give according
as ye shall say unto me : but give me the damsel to wife" (ver.
11, 12).
We need have no scruple in allowing ourselves to be
charmed with so artless and touching a picture of love and
honour. It is 2rood to mark the traces of hisrh-minded and
amiable feeling among those who are still children of nature
merely. We cannot but be drawn towards such characters,
although they may be nothing more than earthly and worldly
after all ; and we cannot but on that account be all the more
grieved that dispositions so genial and upright as those mani-
fested by these Hivite princes, were not met far otherwise than
they were on the part of the family that should have proved
itself to be the Church of the living God. Surely the
advances so honourably made by these mere men of the
world should have been differently received by men who were
professedly the Lord's people. Either they should have been
courteously declined, and the reasons for declining them faith-
fully and kindly stated, so as to impress the heathen with a
sense of the sacredness of the chosen family, and the blessing
that was ultimately to come to all nations through its being
kept separate, in the meantime, and apart. Or else, if it had
been considered lawful to entertain these advances favourably,
the terms of alliance might have been deliberately adjusted,
and its pledges ought to have been scrupulously kept. If one
or other of these courses had been adopted in good feeling
and good faith, who shall say what impression might have
been made on these noble-minded chiefs and on their nation.
100 ' PERSONAL DECLENSION,
— and what an influence for good might have been exerted on
the whole of the ungodly world, in the midst of which the
chosen ones were sojourning 1 Alas ! that so precious an
occasion should have been lost, — so favourable an opportunity
thrown away ! The very opposite effect must have been pro-
duced by what was seen and experienced of Israel's ways.
4. That Jacob was pri\y, or was consenting, to the horrid
plot by which her brothers avenged Dinah's fall, cannot for a
moment be imagined. The idea is contradicted by all we
know of Jacob's general character, as well as by the express
terms of the narrative. But he erred greatly in leaving the
matter too much in the hands of his sons, — committing the
whole negotiation to them, and allowing them to have their
own way. He might have known them better than to trust
them so implicitly. He ought to have transacted the business
himself ; if he had, the foul crime could not have been com-
mitted. But he has let go the reins of government in his
own house ; — his sons have evidently got the upper hand.
Hence they are in a position to concoct their vile stratagem
without his knowledge, and to carry it into bloody execution
A\dthout his being able to prevent them.
Their device is very base ; doubly so because it is in the
name of religion that it is practised. Eeligion ! Much
wronged, deeply insulted, religion ! What frauds, what foul
abominations, what unutterable cruelties, art thou not invoked
to cover ! And the true religion too ! the religion of the one
only living and true God ! With what smooth hypocrisy do
these villains propound their nice scruple of conscience ! Most
anxious are they to have their sister married to so generous a
prince, and to be "one people" with such worthy neighbours
(ver. 14-16). There is but one small obstacle, not, however,
insurmountable. They cannot waive the objection, but their
friends can easily remove it. A little bodily suffering, a few
days' delay, that is all. And then the holy rite of circum-
cision makes us all one. That is our condition, say these reli-
FAMILY SIN AND SHAISIE. 101
gious men — comply with it or not as you please. If you see
your way to comply, you are ours and we are yours, in a sacred
covenant, for ever. If not, " we take our daughter and are
gone " (ver. 1 7). No farther harm is done ; you and we part
in peace. So the trap is laid. And the honest, unsuspecting
parties on the other side simply walk into it. The princes
warmly recommend the alhance to their people. The men are
so "peaceable with us" (ver. 21) — '^honourable men" surely
and peaceable — not resenting violently an affront that might
have provoked them greatly, but rather inclined to overlook it
and be friends with us. And then commerce with them will
be so profitable, and dwelling together with them so pleasant.
The condition, moreover, is so simple — it indicates such a sense
of religion in them, and may be so great a religious benefit to
us ! There ought to be no hesitation. And there is none.
The men are all circumcised, and for the time therefore ren-
dered helpless.
Suddenly, as at a St. Bartholomew signal, "' on the third
day," holy mother church lets loose her dogs of war. The
righteous avengers, — for is it not a righteous crusade 1 — with
bloody swords in their hands, make the night hideous indeed.
Ere morning dawns, the massacre is complete, and the spoil is
gleaned (ver. 24-29).
5. And how does Jacob feel when the terrible fact bursts
upon his knowledge 1 He is deeply moved, no doubt. The
discovery of the atrocity is to him both a shock and a surprise
— and he does not hesitate to express his mind to the two
who had been the ringleaders in the exploit, Simeon and Levi
(ver. 30). But even here, the traces of the lowered moral and
spiritual tone of his o\\^i mind come out. The remonstrance,
after ail, is but a feeble one ; it indicates no high principle —
no holy indignation — no righteous wrath ; it turns mainly on
considerations of selfish pohcy and prudence. It is a false
step that has been taken — a step false in point of expediency.
A blunder, rather than a crime, has been committed ; and it
102 PERSONAL DECLENSION.
may lead to uni:)leasant consequences. It may rouse the re-
sentment of the neighbours and allies of the suffering tribe —
and so endanger the fortunes, and even the lives, of himself
and his family. Surely this is a kind of expostulation far be-
low the occasion — not such as one who " feared God and re-
garded man " would have been apt to utter. And he seems
but too ready to accept the lame apology of the culprits —
"Should he deal with our sister as v>dth an harlot" (ver. 31).
For it was a lame apology, and false as well as lame. It was
an apology exaggerating the original offence, and suppressing
all that was so honourable to his heart in the subsequent con-
duct of the offender. It was, in truth, a shameless justification
of the foul deed, in all its foulness. And Jacob, by liis silence,
appears to make himself almost a party to the deed — a sort of
accomplice after the fact.
Long afterwards, Jacob spoke very differently concerning
this transaction. On his deathbed, looking at it in the near
prospect of eternity, he stigmatised it with somewhat more
severity ; — " Simeon and Le^d are brethren ; instruments of
cruelty are in their habitations. O my soul, come not thou
into their secret ; unto their assembly, mine honour, be not
thou united ! for in their anger they slew a man, and in their
self-will they digged doTVTi a wall. Cursed be their anger, for
it was fierce ; and their wrath, for it was cruel !" (xlix. 5-7).
By that time the patriarch had come to view the matter more
in the light of God's holy law, and less in the light of human
policy and passion. But alas ! for the close of the present
chapter of his history. It leaves him a dishonoured and de-
graded parent, — reaping the bitter fruit of unsteadfastness in
ruling his own household, and gi^^ing sad evidence of that un-
steadfastness being the result, in large measure, of his own
heart not being right with God.
PERSONAL AND FAMILY REVIVAL. 103
XLTX.
PERSONAL AND FAMILY REVIVAL— MINGLED GRACE
AND CHASTISEMENT— AN ERA IN THE PATRIARCH-
AL DISPENSATION.
Genesis xxxy.
I have somewhat against thee, because thou liast left thy first love. Re-
member therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the
firet works. — Revelation ii. 4, 5.
The scene here changes for the better. The patriarch expe-
riences a revival ; a new crisis of his spiritual life occurs. His
heart is graciously made right with God once more, evidently
in the prospect of his being called, upon the death of his father
Isaac, to assume formally the position of the head of the chosen
family in Canaan.
The first step in this quickening movement, is a sovereign
and effectual interposition on the part of God (ver. 1).
So it must ever be. Left to himself, the sleeper will sleep
the sleep of death. But the Lord in great mercy awakens him ;
— " God said unto Jacob, Arise." It is a startling call, as ad-
dressed to the Church, or to any of the people of God, in any
circumstances, in any mood of mind. " Arise ye and depart,
for this is not your rest ; because it is polluted ; it shall destroy
you with a sore destruction ! " — such is the Lord's warning
voice by the mouth of the prophet Micah. And through Isaiah
he gives the word of comfort ; — " Shake thyself from the dust,
arise and sit down, 0 Jerusalem. Arise, shine, for thy light
104 PERSONAL AND FAIHILY REVIVAL.
is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." These
calls may be held to indicate the full meaning of the call to
Jacob. In his case also, it is a call to depart out of the midst
of what is polluting and destroying liimself and all that are
his. It is a call to awake to righteousness and not sin ; to
shake himself free from the dust of worldliness, security, and
sloth ; and to be on the look-out for new light coming, and a
new rising upon him of the glory of the Lord.
For it is a call to Bethel, the house of God ; — "Arise, go
up to Bethel." He should have gone up thither long ago, and
should have been dwelling there now. He has been remiss
and dilatory, — he has been worse, — he has been ungrateful to
his God, and faithless to his vow. And were he now, of his
own accord, proposing to repair his error and make up for lost
time, it could be no matter of surprise to him if the Lord
should lay an arrest upon him, and tell him it is too late. But
the Lord "waiteth to be gracious." Nay more. His grace
outruns and anticipates Jacob's purpose. And as he takes the
initiative in this movement, so he makes it a movement worthy
of himself, and like himself. He interferes to rescue his ser-
vant from backslidini:' and its bitter fruits. And he interferes
in a manner that accords with his own great name, as " the
Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and slow to
anger, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, though he will
by no means clear the guilty." Bethel, though sadly neglected
hitherto, is still accessible. The call is still free, — ^the warrant
ample ; — " Arise, go up to Bethel." Nor is it open only to a
passing -^^sit, an occasional pilgrimage and brief act of homage.
It is to be thy habitation, — " Go up to Bethel and dwell there."
It is a better dwelling-place than thou hast been choosing for
thyself, — safer and more blessed, — for it is the dwelling place
of thy God. And it is still at thy service, — as much at thy
service as if, on first quitting Syria, thou hadst sought it
with all thy heart ; — " Dwell there, and make thee an altar
unto God." Let it be thy rest, because it is the rest of God ;
MINGLED GRACE AND GRIEF. 105
— of that God who " appeared unto thee, when thou fleddest
from the face of Esau thy brother." (ver. 1.)
What can be conceived more condescending and kind, —
more touching and tender, — than this summons to Jacob, —
in all the circumstances'? It is in fact virtually an act of
amnesty and oblivion, as regards all that has passed since the
night of his flight from home. It obliterates the intervening
period, and blots out all its sins. It is almost like the Lord's
question to Peter, — "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou meV
That question must have been felt by the fallen disciple to
carry in it a sentence of full and free pardon, — for it pro-
ceeded upon the principle, with which his master had made
him familiar, — " To whom much is forgiven, the same loveth
much." Lovest thou me 1 I am the Lord who called thee
from beinc; a fisher of fish, to be a fisher of men. I am the
Lord who said, " Blessed art thou Simon Barjona." I am
the Lord who promised that " on this rock I would build my
Church." Thou hast denied me. But here am I, asking
thee, "Lovest thou meV Could I ask thee such a question,
except on the footing of all that has come in between us
being to me as if it had never been 1 I ask thee to be all to
me that thou wast before thy backsliding, — all that and more, —
all that thou wast when thou saidst that I was " the Christ,
the Son of the living God." Substantially like this, is the
Lord's call to Jacob. It annihilates the recent past, and goes
back to the more remote. And it does so on the strength
of a present act of grace, — forgiving all, forgetting all, — and
proposing to have all again adjusted as at the first, when the
first fresh gleam of the light of God's reconciled countenance
broke the gloom of midnight, — and the worse gloom of a moody
spirit, — as the exile lay forlorn on his stony pillow. It is
indeed a call to him to be as he then was, — in spite of all
that he has since been, — " to remember from whence he has
fallen, and repent, and do the first works."
Jacob's response to the call is prompt and decided. He
106 PERSONAL AND FAMILY REVIVAL.
takes immediate measures for complying with it, — and for
complying with it in the spirit, and not merely in the letter.
As the iiead of the family, and the prince and priest of the
community, he issues vsuitable orders and enjoins special
preparation, with a view avowedly to a very solemn act of
worship. The preparation is twofold. It consists first of
wliat is moral and spiritual, — the purging out of the old
leaven of idolatry from among them ; — and secondly of what
may seem to be more of a ceremonial and ritual character,
the special cleansing of their persons, and the changing or
washing of their garments (ver. 2). So Jacob would present
his household before the Lord at Bethel, with no taint of the
world's idol-worship cleaving to them, and with " holiness to
the Lord" stamped alike on their bodies and on their souls.
And he enforces his injunction by a consideration that might
well reconcile them to its observance. The God with whom
we are about to meet, — is the God " who answered me in the
day of my distress, and was with me in the way which I
went" (ver. 3). It is in acknowledgment of that first and most
seasonable interposition of his grace when I was in my sorest
straits, even more than of all his kind providence towards me
since, that I, — who have hitherto, alas ! but ill requited his
love, — now go to worship him at his own appointed place,
taking you along with me. You cannot but feel that we
must go, with no strange gods among us, — with clean hands
and pure hearts.
The appeal of Jacob is effectual. The " strange gods that
are among them are put away" (ver, 4). These were probably
idols or teraphim, instruments of some sort of modified idolatry ;
— the true God not being altogether disowned, but false deities
associated with him, or false methods of worship practised, —
for that seems to have been the sort of religion prevalent in
Syria, in Laban's house. But whatever they were, they are
all, together with the ornaments of jewellery that were more
or less identified with the use of them, unreservedly given up
MINGLED GRACE AND GRIEF. 107
to Jacob, and buried by him in the earth, under an oak at
Shechem ; — not surely to be afterwards brought to light, and
made the occasion of heathenism in the kingdom of the ten
tribes, — as some have feigned ; — ^but rather to be hidden and
lost for ever (ver. 4).
Thus, the preliminary steps being all rightly taken, the
journey towards Bethel begins.
It is accomplished in safety. That it should be so, is
almost more than could have been anticipated as possible. It
was, humanly speaking, far more likely that what Jacob feared
would be realised (xxxiv. 30), — that, roused by the atrocity
of the Sychem massacre, all the neighbouring tribes of " the
Canaanites and the Perizzites," outnumbering many times
over the little band amid which Jacob presided, would
combine to follow after and destroy them. That it fell out
otherwise, was Avholly of the Lord. " The terror of God was
upon the cities that were round about them, and they did
not pursue after the sons of Jacob. So Jacob came to Luz,
which is in the land of Cannan, that is, Beth-el, he and all
the people that were with him. And he built there an altar,
and called the place El-beth-el" (ver. 6, 7).
Yes! It is "El-bethel" now, — not as before (xxx. 20)
" El-eloi-Israel." It is God, the God of Bethel, not God, the
God of Israel ; — not God with whom he is a prince and pre-
vails, but God who " appeared to him when he fled from the
face of his brother" (ver. 7). The stone which had been his
pillow, and which he had set up as a pillar on that night
long ago, is now, according to his vow, the house of God to
him. It is as if all the intervening space of years were
obliterated, save only for his grateful remembrance of the
Lord's kindness and faithfulness in fulfilling all his promises
so abundantly. The patriarch takes up the dropped thread
of his former Bethel experience, in continuation as it were,
and in supplement of the worship then begun.
108 PERSONAL AND FAMILY REVIVAL.
Of the three incidents that follow (ver. 8-20), — the death
of Deborah, the appearance of God to Jacob, and the death of
Rachel, in giving birth to Benjamin, — the central one is of
course the chief. It is God's gracious act oTvuing his servant's
revived and quickened faith, and it is the conclusion of the
series of personal divine communications to the patriarchs.
Viewed in the former of these two lights, it is a significant
circumstance that it is preceded and followed by a note of
domestic woe. The return to Bethel first, and thereafter the
departure from Bethel to join his father Isaac, are both sad-
dened by the funeral pall. As he reaches the holy place, he
has to bury his mother's faithful nurse ; as he leaves it, he
has to bury his own loved wife. The afilictions are not
equal ; the second immeasurably outweighs the first. But
the first is heavy enough. The relation in which Deborah, as
Rebekah's nurse, stood to her mistress, and her mistress'
favourite son, was, according to the usages of the East in
these primitive times, a very close and endearing one. She
was no ordinary servant, and was not treated as such ; she
was a favourite and friend in Jacob's house, in which she
seems to have been domesticated. Probably her death occa-
sioned the first breach in the family circle, and was felt
as a family bereavement. She was mourned with genu-
ine tears ; and for a memorial the oak beneath whose
shade her remains were laid got the significant name of " The
oak of weeping " (ver. 8). Thus Jacob's first business at
Bethel is to be cliief mourner at a household grave. And
his last, as he quits Bethel, is the same. It is the same,
however, with aggravation unspeakably severe. Rachel is
about to be a second time a mother. The doting husband's
hopes are raised high. It may be that this child is to be
bom at his father's home, — in his mother's tent. He would
fain see the wife he loves thus honoured, and one of his seed at
least cradled in the hereditary patriarchal couch. Perhaps it is
with a view to this that he hastens from Bethel to go to
MINGLED GRACE AND GRIEF. 109
Isaac his father. Alas ! he is doomed to bitter disappointment.
The journey is not well begun when travail comes suddenly on
the woman with the child. Eachel is in hard and fatal
labour. In vain the attendant tries to comfort her with the
joyful tidings of " a son born into the world." In vain the
broken-hearted father, — refusing to take in the terrible fact
passing under his eye, — determined to be sanguine to the last
and let no evil omen touch either mother or child, — whispers
hope in the dull ear of death, and welcomes the last pledge of an
undying love as no " son of sorrow," but " the son of the right
hand." He is Benoni to her still, — the child of her grief, —
however she may try to accept, with a languid smile of thankful-
ness, her husband's hope, in another sense than he meant it, as
a hope that he is to be something very different to him. Her
soul is departing, — let us say in peace. She has given him
whom she loves a Benjamin ; she is content that he should be
to herself a Benoni. And so she dies, and is buried on the
way from " Uz, or Bethel," to " Ephrath which is Bethlehem."
Jacob rears a pillar to perpetuate her memoiy. Then all is
over. The curtain falls on the bereaved husband's unutter-
able woe (ver. 16-20). Surely it is not without a meaning
that the gracious visit paid by God to Jacob comes in between
two such calamities as these.
In the visit itself there is not much that is specially remark-
able. It is announced in the usual simple and solemn form :
" God appeared unto Jacob again, when he came out of
Padan-aram, and blessed him" (ver. 9). The change of
Jacob's name to Israel is confirmed (ver. 1 0) ; and the promise
of a numerous posterity, and of the inheritance of the land, is
renewed (ver. 11, 12). Then the close of the interview is
intimated : " God went up from him in the place where he
talked with him" (ver. 13); and it is followed up by a suitable
act of worship on the part of Jacob, and a formal, public
ratification of v/hat before had been simply a private act or
purpose of his own, — determining how the place was after-
110 PERSONAL AND FAMILY REVIVAL.
wards to be known among his seed (ver. 14, 15). In all this
there would seem to be little or nothing beyond the recognition
and renewed sanction of former covenant promises and pledges.
The only very notable circumstance is, that this is the
last of what we may call the personal interviews with which
God honoured the patriarchs. Henceforward that mode of
communication between heaven and earth ceases. The next
we read of is that by dreams, and the interpretation of
dreams. Of the " appearing" of God to the party visited ;
his "talking with him ;" his "going up from him;" of that
direct, face to face, mouth to mouth, kind of intercourse,
which these descriptions must be understood to signify, — we
do not discover any traces in any of the subsequent revela-
tions of which Old Testament Scripture speaks. The nearest
approach to it is to be found in the case of Moses, concerning
whom, on the occasion of the murmuring of Miriam and Aaron
against him, the Lord bears emphatic testimony " If there be a
prophet among you, I the Lord will make myself known unto
him in a vision, and will speak unto him in a dream — my ser-
vant Moses is not so, who is faithful in all my house, with him
will I speak mouth to mouth, even apparently and not in dark
speeches ; and the similitude of the Lord shall he behold "
(Numbers xii. 6, 7, 8). But what Moses enjoyed of this direct
communication with the Most High would seem to have been,
not so much in the way of the Lord ^dsiting him on the earth, as
in the way of the Lord calling him up, as it were, into heaven,
on the mount to commune with him there. And at all events,
the Lord's way of making known his mind to Moses is de-
clared to be exceptional ; and the ordinary manner of divine
revelation is represented as being altogether different. Eeve-
lation by a personal visit, — as when Jehovah, assuming the
appearance of a man, sat with Abraham in his tent, eating
meat "with him — and talked with him as a man talks with his
friend, — came to an end with this second interview between
the Lord and Jacob at Bethel ; which indeed was, more clearly
MINGLED GRACE AND GRIEF. Ill
than the first, of the same sort with those which his fathers
had had with God. Here, therefore, is a critical change in
the administration of the covenant on the part of God, — and
here accordingly it may with not a little probability be con-
tended that, strictly speaking, the patriarchal dispensation, in
so far as it is of the nature of a revelation, comes to a close.
The patriarchal religion may now be said to be complete, —
the last contribution to it being now made in the Lord's
renewed ratification of the covenant with Jacob. Whatever
intimation of his will God may be pleased to make for the
guidance of his servants by visions and dreams ; — and what-
ever prophetic insight into the future may be vouchsafed to
gifted seers and dying saints ; — all that is rather in the way
of applying in detail to persons and circumstances, a revelation
already given as for the time final, than in the way of adding
to it, or repeating and confirming it. Henceforth the family
of Jacob and their descendants are to live under the patriarchal
dispensation, as a finished religious code, — very much as the
Israelites lived under the Mosaic dispensation after the death
of Moses, and as we live under the Christian dispensation,
since the death of Christ and his inspired apostles and evan-
gelists.
We seem, therefore, to be about to turn over a leaf at this
stage of the history. The signal for doing so is the death of
Isaac, — with which event the present chapter ends. It has all
the appearance, especially towards its close, of what may be
called a winding up ; making even, as it were, the odd ends
and remnants of the preceding narrative, — and clearing the
stage for a new act of the drama, to be inaugurated when
Jacob, on his father's death, becomes the patriarchal head of
the chosen tribe. Hence, probably, there is introduced at
this stage, the account of Eeuben's crime (ver. 22), as well as
the catalogue of Jacob's now completed family (ver. 22-26).
The church visible, as its development is about to be traced
from a new starting point, or fountain source, is now before
112 PERSONAL AND FAIHILY REVrV^AL.
US, in its heads, complete, — Jacob or Israel, and the twelve
sons whose names are here enumerated. It has been formed
and nursed in exile ; it is now to take its place in Canaan.
All is told about it that is needful for our understanding its
future course ; — how it has, to begin with, some foul blots, —
bloody treachery staining two, and vile lust a third, of the
men who are to be its representatives ; — how human sin and
shame are thus blended at the outset with divine grace and
love ; — and how, therefore, it need be no matter of surprise, if a
history of a very chequered character, even while Jacob lives,
prepares the way for the equally chequered prophecy which he
is constrained to utter ere he dies.
Thus then, in the circumstances which are here brought
together in this chapter, — experiencing a gracious re^dval, —
chastened and afflicted in his dearest affections, — honoured
with a last visit of God to renew and ratify his covenant, —
with his family of twelve sons now complete, — but alas ! com-
pleted at the cost of Rachel's loss ; — and with Eeuben's incest
now superadded to the cruelty of Simeon and Levi : — thus
does Jacob find himself once more in his father's house.
Tliere he is soon, along with Esau, to close his father's eyes,
and consign his last remains to the silent tomb. And there-
after he is to take his father's place as the heir of promise,
and to fulfil, as best he may, with such materials as he has,
the functions which that hisrh character involves.
NEW ERA— BEGINNING OF A NEW PATRIARCHATE. 113
L.
A NEW ERA— THE BEGINNING OF A NEAV
PATRIARCHATE.
Genesis xxxvii. 1-11.
These are tlie generation.s of Esau. — Gex. xxxvi. 1.
These are the generations of Jacob. — xxxvii. 2.
"These are the generations of;" — such is the formula — the
title or heading — that ushers in each new branch, whether
lineal and descending, or collateral and diverging, of the great
genealogical chart or tree, which the Book of Genesis unfolds.
It is the sign which marks, at successive stages, the gradual
contraction of the narrative into a few, and ultimately into one
alone of the innumerable streams in which the flood of human
life rolls on.
Thus, first, it heads the record of the original destination of
our world and our race (ii. 4). The creation of the heavens
and the earth, — of all the earth's living tribes, and especially
of him who is to have dominion over it and them, — having
been previously narrated in the first chapter ; — history proper
begins in the second. And it begins comprehensively enough ;
with the all-embracing phrase ; " Tliese are the generations of
the heavens and of the earth." Again, secondly, after notices
of the fall and its first fruits, applicable to all mankind ; when
the genealogical history of the fallen race is to be traced in the
one line of Adam through Seth ; the same formula is used, —
" This is the book of the generations of Adam " (v. 1). So also,
thirdly, when a new start is to be made, and amid universal
vol.. IT. I
114 A NEW ERA.
defection, a fresh fountain-head of life is to be selected, it is
announced in the same way, — " These are the generations of
Noah " (vi. 9).
After the flood, the genealogical tree springs again from
one parent stem, in a threefold ramification ; " These are the
generations of the sons of Noah, Shem, Ham, and Japheth "
(x. 1). But Ham and Japheth being suffered to drop aside,
the interest is fixed in the lineage of Shem ; " These are the
generations of Shem" (xi. 10).
Soon the choice is still farther narrowed, — and the name
of Abraham's father, as representing his son, becomes the
starting-point of the new branch in which the progress of the
tree is to be traced ; " These are the generations of Terah :
Terah begat Abram" (xi. 27).
Of Abraham's two sons, Ishmael's line is first briefly
sketched ; " These are the generations of Ishmael, Abraham's
son" (xxv. 12). And then, in Isaac the history of the elec-
tion of grace starts afresh, — "These are the generations of
Isaac, Abraham's son " (xxv. 1 9).
Upon the death of Isaac, the same principle of elimination
out of the sacred historic stream on the one hand, and selection
.for it on the other hand, comes to be applied. Each of his two
sons, Esau and Jacob, has his place in the genealogical tree.
The genealogy in the line of Esau is very briefly and sum-
marily traced ; " These are the generations of Esau who is
Edom " (xxx\d. 1) ; but like that of Abraham through Ishmael,
it is traced with sufficient clearness to admit of its being at
last historically identified. The two, indeed, as branch gene-
alogies,— the one from Abraham through Ishmael, and the
other from Isaac through Esau, — are recorded mainly with a
prophetic view to such future historical identification. But,
even apart from that consideration, the chapter which records
the progress of Esau's house is an interesting study, — especially
v/hen viewed in the light of Isaac's dying benediction.
BEGINNING OF A NEW PATRIARCHATE. 115
Look along the advancing course of Esau's posterity. See
him in his families, multiplied and enriched ; these families
rapidly becoming dukedoms or principalities ; these dukedoms,
again, gathered up into a kingdom ; and that kingdom reach-
ing its culminating point, long before the kingdom for which
Moses made provision in his law was even looming in the dis-
tance for Israel ; for the history speaks of " kings reigning in
the land of Edom, before there reigned any king over the
children of Israel" (ver. 31). Such is the general outline of
the rise and progress of the Idumean power which this brief
and bare list of Esau's generations may suggest ; and it is
enough for any practical use. The minute discussion of its
details, in a genealogical or ethnological point of view, is un-
necessary, and would be out of place.
Esau being thus withdrawn, Jacob remains (xxx\ii. 2) ;
and along the line of Jacob's seed, the entire subsequent stream
of sacred history is to flow. No more branches are to be given
off", — and the branches already given off are to be noticed only
in so far as they come across the current of Israel's wondrous
course. The formula, as now used, " These are the generations
of Jacob," — stands henceforth alone ; being the title or head-
ing of the whole accumulating mass of inspired, narrative, pro-
phecy, proverb, and song, in which Israel's varied fortunes are
embodied ; till the time comes when once more the old formula
is to be used to usher in a new branch of the family tree ; —
" The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David,
the son of Abraham" (Mat. i. 1).
Jacob is now the acknowledged head of the chosen family.
Isaac is dead, and Esau has removed from Canaan into the
territory which his race are to occupy and inherit. It is not
improbable that he had begun to look in that direction shortly
after he sold his birthright to Jacob, and before the transac-
tion of the blessing. At all events, on Jacob's return from
Syria, Esau is found, not where his father Isaac is dwelling,
but in settlements of his own, more or less fixed, in the
116 A NEW ERA.
country with which his name is ever afterwards to be identi-
fied. Jacob resumes his place in his father's household, and
upon Isaac's death takes the position of patriarchal head over
the now considerable tribe into which Abraham's seed has
expanded itself. It might seem, therefore, that the dark
shadows of his life should now give place to sunshine.
Alas ! no. The trial of his faith is not yet complete.
The old man's heart is to be pierced with fresh and bitter
pangs. " These are the generations of Jacob. Joseph" —
(ver. 2).
Joseph 1 So this new section begins, — this new stream of
the genealogical history, — having its new fountain in Jacob.
Joseph ! With the alarm of that name is the new patriarchate
or headship of the chosen family, in the person of Jacob,
rung in ; — even as with the alarm of the same name, after a
romance of history^ unparalleled before or since, it is to be
rung out. Joseph ! The first and last, the alpha and omega,
the beginning and the end, of Jacob's whole patriarchal reign !
For the interest of that patriarchal reign, (1.) as a story of
human character and life, giving insight and calling forth sym-
pathy, as no other storj-, either real or feigned, ever did ; —
(2.) as embracing a world-wide revolution, attested to be so by
world-^yide footprints, lasting till this day ; (3.) as determin-
ing the condition of Israel's national development as a people
sold into bondage and redeemed ; (4) as all bearing on what
really fulfilled the prophecy — " out of Egypt have I called my
son;" the interest I say in all these views of it, of the
l)atriarchal reign of Jacob, is all centred in Joseph. " These
are the generations of Jacob. Joseph" —
But in the first instance, the history of Joseph is to be
viewed in its bearing personally on his father Jacob. Let the
state of the patriarch's household therefore be, as far as pos-
sible, realised.
1 . Before Joseph's dreams, there is a root of bitterness in
BEGINNING OF A NEW PATRIARCHATE. 117
the family. Two reasons are assigned for the jealousy that
sprung up. Joseph was dreaded by his brethren as a talc-
bearer ; and he was envied by them as a favourite. This
double cause of offence did the stripling of seventeen give to
his brothers, now grown to manhood.
He was a tale-bearer ; " Joseph brought unto his father
their evil report" (ver. 2). Eather he was a truth-teller. As
one who was always " in simplicity a child," he naturally told
liis father the incidents of each passing day. If his brethren,
— -old enough, some of them, to be his father, — were accus-
tomed, while away from home, ostensibly on the business of
tending their flocks, not only to familiarise themselves, but to
attempt to familiarise their youthful brother, with scenes and
doings which they cared not to submit to the scrutiny of the
parental eye ; so much the worse for them ; his mouth how-
ever cannot be shut.
But he was a favourite ; " Israel loved Joseph more than
all his children" (ver. 3). Did these sons of Jacob consider
what cause might be pleaded for their aged father making a
favourite of Joseph 1 He was "the son of his old age ;" the
first-born of his beloved Rachel, — now, alas ! no more. Had
they no allowance to make for so natural a fondness ?
Very evidently, however, as the whole narrative shows, it
is not as a tale-bearer, nor as a favourite, that Joseph is hated
by his brethren. The real ground of their dislike is that he
will not be one of them, and go along with them in ways
which they know that their father condemns. Their quarrel
with him is that his truth and simplicity, his piety and wortli,
commend him to their father's special confidence and regard.
At all events, " when his brethren saw that their father loved
him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not
speak peaceably unto him" (ver. 4).
Possibly Jacob may have manifested his warm esteem for
his beloved son in an injudicious way. To listen to his re-
ports of the evil he witnessed, instead of at once withdrawing
118 A NEW ERA.
him from its contagion, and from the temptation to become a
mere sjdj and informer, — that may have been Jacob's weakness
or mistake. And it was a poor conceit that led him to ex-
press his affection by a costly garment (ver. 3) ; — if indeed it
was not something worse, — conferring on the youthful object
of his fondness a foolish mark of rank and distinction, that
could not fail to expose him to the ridicule or rage of his
older brothers. Still, there lies at the bottom of the rankling
sore in Jacob's household, as its chief cause, the evil conduct
of his sons ; which Joseph could not tolerate or conceal ; and
which Jacob himself perhaps did not, or could not, control.
2. The two dreams which Joseph had introduced a new
element of disquiet into the family. What weight Joseph
himself attached to them, when he first told them, does not
appear ; — but his very openness in telling them shows that he
could mean no harm. He might have kept them to himself,
and watched for opportunities of realising what they seemed
to foreshadow. He might have made a confidant of some
shrewd adviser or crafty tool, who, being entrusted with his
secret, might be a safe accomplice in any ambitious scheme his
dream-heated brain might devise. But Joseph has no reserve.
His brethren, whom alone it can concern, are to know all about
the first dream (ver. 5-7). And as the second dream, if it
means anything, points to the heads as Avell as the members of
the family, it is dutifully communicated to his father also
(ver. 9, 10).
Such fraternal and filial frankness should have disarmed
suspicion and hostility. AYhatever there may be in these
dreams, beyond midnight fancy's fairy and fantastic tricks, —
whatever of supernatural significancy, and anticipation of the
future, — Joseph surely is not to be blamed. He could not
help having the dreams : — and he does all that could be asked
or expected of him, when he hastens to put all the household
in possession of them.
That Joseph did right in communicating his dreams, —
BEGINNING OF A NEW PATRIARCHATE. 119
seeing that they A\^ere meant not only for himself but for the
whole household, — can scarcely be doubted. The communica-
tion of them, however, was not welcome ; it gave dire offence
to his brethren (ver. 8). His father also was at first displeased,
or rather perhaps only surprised. For, one is inclined to ask,
was it really in anger, or was it by way of dissembling, under
colour of irritation, a secret satisfaction at the high prospect
opening up before his favourite son, that the patriarch so
mildly " rebuked " the lad's seemingly insolent aspirations —
" What is this dream that thou hast dreamed ? Shall I, and
thy mother, and thy brethren, indeed come to bow down our-
selves to thee to the earth?" (ver. 10). At all events, while
" his brethren" simply " envied him," " his father observed the
saying" (ver. 11). Jacob kept it in his mind, treasured it
in his memory, — pondered what might come of it, and
whereto it might grow ; — as Daniel did with reference to
the vision of the four beasts, and as Mary did with refer-
ence to the visit of the shepherds at the birth of Jesus,
and the saying of Jesus himself, when he was twelve years
old, in the temple. Evidently, therefore, he attached im-
portance to the intimation given in the dreams as to things
to come. And the reflection is apt to arise, — If he and his
other sons had received the intimation in faith, as coming
from the Lord, and so far acted upon it as to wait in humble
patience for the issue — what sin and suffering might have
been averted from the chosen family ! But, alas ! unbelief
prevailed. Jacob may perhaps have been prepared to bow to
the will of God ; but the brethren of the good and godly
youth, so evidently favoured of the Lord, envied him and
hated him the more. For these great divine lessons were still
to be taught by the eventful history of Joseph, — that the heart
is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, — that
they who will live godly in Christ Jesus must suffer persecu-
tion,— that the righteous must through much tribulation enter
into glory.
120 THE MISSION TO DOTHAN.
LI
THE MISSION TO DOTHAN— THE PLOT— THE SALE.
Genesis xxxvii. 12-36.
He came unto his own, and his own received him not. — John i. 11.
In the history of Joseph's strange career the particular provi-
dence of God is most signally illustrated. There is, indeed,
evidence enough in the previous narrative of a vvise and holy
providence watching over the actions and affairs of men, — and
carrying forward, by means of human agency and instrumen-
tality, a vast and comprehensive plan for undoing the mischief
of the fall, and bringing about the predicted result, that " the
seed of the woman is to bruise the serpent's head." But the
march of that providence has hitherto been, as it were, along
the highway of that great general divine purpose and promise,
— individual and family interests being manifestly subordinate.
Now, however, in the life of Joseph, what is personal carries
it over what is public. The march of providence is, as it might
seem, through a bye- way. The varied fortunes of one man,
Joseph, as unfolded, not in the inheritance, nor in any move-
ment connected with it, but in a region remote and in events
remote, — not in Canaan but in Egypt ; — the "vdcissitudes of his
chequered course ; — his biography ; — that is now the groove in
which the church's history is to run. Hence it is a biography
doubly important. It constrains us to observe the footprints
of God's providence, as very specially exercised in the case of
Joseph himself And by analogy it points to an era when
THE PLOT— THE SALE. 121
once again biography prevailed to usher in and mould a new
church-development.
In the manner of Joseph's descent into Eg}npt, — how
remarkably may the typical providence of God, if one may so
call it, be traced and noted.
I. Take, first, the mission of Joseph, on his father's behalf,
to his brethren (ver. 12-14). That Jacob should send Joseph
on an errand of inquiry about his other sons, and that Joseph
should be so ready to go, might seem natural enough, did we
not remember the relations in which the members of this un-
easy household stood to one another. But has Jacob forgotten
the evil report which, in his honest and childlike simplicity,
Joseph had brought of his brethren, and the offence which that
had given 1 The robe of honour, also, with which liis partiality
had adorned his favourite son, and the jealousy and envy
which that mark of distinction, however well deserved, had
occasioned, — and the dreams, so artlessly told and so angrily
listened to — is all that overlooked] Has the previous con-
duct of these men been such as to warrant Jacob in relying
on their generosity and forbearance, when he commits to their
tender mercies the object of his own love and of their hatred 1
But perhaps he thinks to melt them by this proof of his
interest in them, and of his beloved son's interest in them.
They have been away from home — possibly for a considerable
time. It would appear, too, that they have been in trying
circumstances. The necessity of going farther than they in-
tended, and the dryness of the pit into which they let down
Joseph, point to drought, or scarcity of some kind, as having
forced them to move on and seek food for their cattle. They
had thus been, in a sense, exiles from the parental roof, and
they had encountered difficulties. The father's heart yearns
towards them. Their hard and stubborn nature may have
been melted by what they have had to undergo. A visit of
their young and amiable brother, charged with a message of
tender fatherly affection, may be the very thing to put an end
122 THE MISSION TO DOTHAN.
to all misunderstanding and animosity, and to effect a cordial
and complete reconciliation. So Jacob proposes, and Joseph
accepts, this mission of family peace. So " he came unto his
own, and his own received him not."
II. There is a special providence also in the fact or cir-
cumstance of Joseph's brethren having gone away beyond the
place where he first expected to find them (ver. 15-17).
Possibly, if they had remained at Shechem, they would not
have ventured on the crime which they committed. They
could not have so easily concealed it from their father. He
was a proprietor there ; and in spite of the honid cause of
(offence given in the case of Dinah, he must by this time have
so far accommodated matters with prince and people, as to
have his right of occupancy in the land which he had bought
acknowledged and resjDected. Considering the means of com-
munication which their father must have had open with She-
chem, the brethren of Joseph, if it had been there that he had
fallen into their hands, could scarcely have hoped to keep their
cruel treatment of him secret. But it was so ordered that
they had to move farther off. Had they Jacob's sanction for
the movement? Apparently not. Whatever reason they
might have for quitting Shechem, they should surely have
either returned home, or sought instructions from home, before
resolving on a journey beyond it. They were not found v/here
their father had a right to expect that they would be found,
when he sent their younger brother on his errand of affectionate
inquiry about their welfare. And if he had been his father's
unwilling messenger, or if he had been indifferent about his
brethren to w^iom he was sent, he might have stopped short
at Shechem ; he might have been justified in going back from
thence to his father, and simply reporting his having failed to
find his brethren there. But no. He acts not merely accord-
ing to the letter, but in the spirit, of the commission which he
has received. He longs to carry to his brethren, however far
aAvay, the tidings and tokens of a fatlier's loving care for them.
THE PLOT THE SALE. 1^3
He will not desist from his undertaking, or give up his errand,
to whatever destiny it may lead him. He must go to his
brethren wherever they may be, and cheer them with a voice
from home. He wanders up and down in search of them ; and
hearing, as it were, by chance, to what place they talked of
removing when they quitted Shechem, the tenderly nurtured
youth, fresh from his father's bosom, and with the fond pledge
of his father's affection upon his shoulders, hesitates not a mo-
ment :— " Joseph went after his brethren, and found them in
Dothan" (ver. 17).
III. It is noticeable that Dothan should be the place to
which Jacob's sons had gone, and at which Joseph found them.
It was in the line of the ordinary trafSc between Syria and
Egypt. Already there was a brisk trade carried on, chiefly by
the Ishmaelites and other Arab tribes, such as Midianites,
associated with them, for the exchange of oriental, perhaps
Indian, commodities,— chiefly spices and such like luxuries,—
with the costly and curious fabrics of Egyptian manufacture.
Then, as now, the trade was conducted by merchants travelling
in companies, with camels and caravans, fully furnished and
equipped for defence as well as for the march. It was of the
Lord's special ordering surely, that, unintentionally on their
part, and against what either Jacob or Joseph could have
anticipated, the men of Israel had betaken themselves to the
very spot where the means of conveyance into Egypt were to
come in their way. It is the spot where Joseph, by a provi-
dential coincidence as to time also, as well as place, can best
be delivered into the hands of the Gentiles.
IV. The manner in which he came to be actually delivered
into the hands of the Gentiles, is, in all its details, specially
providential (ver. 18-20).
(1.) The conspiracy against him, before he joins them, is
in this view to be noted. It is very emphatically put—" And
when they saw him afar off, even before he came near unto
them, they conspired against him to slay him " (ver. 18-20).
124 THE MISSION TO DOTHAN.
They would not wait to learn what he had to say ; they would
not give him a hearing. And yet they could not but Imow
and feel that it was in no unfriendly, or unkindly, or un-
brotherly spirit, that he was coming to them. A mere strip-
ling, unarmed and unattended, he commits himself to them,
without suspicion and without fear. The very simplicity of
his having on him the much-grudged robe of honour, the badge
of his father's love, might make his brothers sure that it is on
an errand of love his father has sent him. Why is he here,
so far from home 1 Can it be for any other than a purpose of
love 1 But these dreams ! This dreamer ! He to be our
Lord ! He to be king of the Jews ! Away "\^ith him ! Cru-
cify him ! So there is a conspiracy. And it is of the Lord's
special providence that there is a conspiracy. His tjrpical
purpose, if one may so call it, is thus accomplished.
For it might have been otherwise ; the rage of Joseph's
brethren might have broken out suddenly in an outburst of
violence after he had come among them. Joseph's peaceful
approach might have disarmed for the moment their hostility ;
and the movement against him might have been the result of
a subsequent storm of passion.
But that was not to be the manner of Joseph's being
delivered into the hands of the Gentiles ; there must be de-
liberation, contrivance, treachery ; a plot ; a sale. It is neither
by being cast from the brow of the hill on w^hich Nazareth
stands, — nor by being tumultuously stoned, — that he whom
Joseph represents and typifies is to go down to the depths.
He is to be conspired against ; plotted against ; betrayed ;
sold.
(2.) The stratagem of Eeuben is also of the Lord (ver. 21-
25); — not of course in the sense of its being suggested or
inspired by the Lord, but in the sense of its being providen-
tially ordered and overruled by the Lord. It serves the pur-
pose of gaining time. He deprecates the shedding of blood,
and suggests the casting into the pit ; intending, though of
THE PLOT — THE SALE. 125
course he concealed his mtention, " to dehver Joseph to his
father again."
That it should have been Eeuben who in this instance
showed such consideration for his father is not a little remark-
able. The last thing we read of him is his commission of his
horrid sin ; the sin which lost him his birthright prerogative,
and brought upon him, long after, his dying father's sad pro-
phetic denunciation (chap. xlix. 3, 4). It may have been the
recollection of that very wrong ;— and something perhaps m
the way his father took it,— for the narrative of the crime,
though very brief, has a certain strange significancy,— " And
Israel heard it "—betokening the agony of silence, shame, and
sorrow ; it may have been this that occasioned the relenting
of Eeuben's heart now. He will not inflict a new stab in his
father's tortured bosom. He will not do him a second wrong,
more cruel, in some aspects of it, than the first. He will be
no party to the child's murder. He will deliver him out of
the hands of those who thirsted for his blood.
But how? Remonstrance, he well knows, will be vain.
No appeal to their brotherly affection, their human pity, their
filial duty, will avail. But their prudence may be called into
exercise ; their fear may be aroused. By all means let this
dreamer of dreams die ; surely it is meet that he should perish
rather than dream himself into domination and us into bond-
age. Yes ! Let him die. But not after the coarse and clumsy
fashion you propose. You would slay him with your own
hands, and so stain them with blood which may betray you.
Nay, rather, let his death be such as may pass for accidental.
Here is a pit, or well— dry, for it is summer, and there has
been drought. Wliat more likely than that the boy, wander-
ing about in search of us, should have stumbled unawares upon
itlnd fallen into HI When we are gone from the place, no
marks of violence will remain to witness against us. Possibly
none may ever discover the body but the birds that are to
prey upon it. Or if any passer-by should hear a faint dying
126 THE MISSION TO DOTHAN.
moan, and, looking down, should see a fair child breathing
his last in solitary anguish, — he will but lament his inability
to help him, and with a sigh of sorrow over his sad and un-
timely fate, go on his way musing on the vicissitudes of human
life.
The suggestion of Eeuben pleases the brothers and is
promptly acted upon. Joseph, amid what tears and entreaties
on his part, it is left to imagination to conceive, — enough to
melt a heart of stone, any hearts but those that should have
been the most open to embrace him, — Joseph lies deep down,
along the cold and slimy bed, on which he is to experience the
lingering torment of thirst and hunger, till nature sinks and
death relieves him. The brothers at the pit's mouth sit down
to their repast with what appetite they may.
" Woe to them that drink wine in bowls, and anoint them-
selves with the chief ointment ; but they are not grieved for
the affliction of Joseph" (Amos vi. 6). Such is the indignant
utterance of the prophet, referring, ages after, to this old
historical scene, as the type of the worst kind of spiritual
insensibility, and carnal, selfish, devilish hardness of heart.
(3.) The arrival of the caravan of travelling merchants is
clearly of the Lord (ver. 25-28). They come in good time.
The heartless and unfeeling murderers, — for they Avere so in
intent, and virtually, even in act, — are beginning to have some
misgivings. Judah probably speaks the mind of all, — at least
he carries their consent. He does not propose that they
should undo what they have done ; he is no preacher of
repentance ; to such preaching they will not listen. But a
compromise may be expedient. They will not be the actual
crucifiers of their brother ; Joseph leaves their hands unharmed.
All that they do is to rid themselves of one whose presence
has become intolerable. Let those who receive liim now be
answerable for him. " Judah said unto his brethren, What
profit is it if we slay our brother, and conceal his blood?
Come and let us sell him to the Ishmeelites, and let not our
THE PLOT — THE SALE. 127
hand be upon him ; for he is our brother, and our flesli. And
his brethren were content."
So the sin of man-selling is palliated. The men take credit
for not slaying, but merely selling Joseph, — because, forsooth,
" he is our l)rother and our flesh ! " And so, in after years,
Judas and the Jews may have tried to satisfj^ or silence
conscience ; — Judas, when he sold his Master for thirty 2:)ieces
of silver ; — and the Jews, when they first made themselves
parties to the sale, and then gave Jesus over into the hands
of Pilate !
128 SINFUL ANCESTRY OF "THE HOLY SEED."
LII.
SINFUL ANCESTEY OF " THE HOLY SEED "—GRIEF IN
CANAAN— HOPE IN EGYPT.
Genesis xxxviii. (and xxxvii. 25-36, xxxix. 1).
Let God be true, but every man a liar. — PtOM. iii. 4.
The narrative of sin and shame in the thirty-eighth chapter
comes in as a somewhat strange parenthesis, or interruption,
in the history of Jacob's patriarchate, or patriarchal reign, as
it unfolds itself in the adventures of Joseph. There is, how-
ever, a break at the stage at which this sad story about Judah
is introduced. The scene is about to be shifted from Canaan
to Egypt. From this point Canaan, as it might seem, is, in
the meanwhile, lost sight of. What is going on there is
noticed only incidentally, as it were, and in subordination to
the march of events and the fortunes of Joseph in Egypt.
Ko doubt, as is soon made evident, the reverse of that is the
real truth of the case. It is only in relation to Canaan, as
the inheritance of Abraham's seed, that Egypt has any import-
ance at all, in the view of inspiration. Still, in fact, for a
season Eg}^t, and not Canaan, is to be the arena on which, as
" in the heavenly places," there is to be " made known to the
principalities and powers, by the Church, the manifold wisdom
of God" (Eph. iii. 10).
The account of this affair of Judah's finishes and disposes
of the Canaan line of march. It is indeed a melancholy finale
for the present — a most dishonourable close. Dating from the
time of Abraham's first setting his foot in Canaan, to the time
GRIEF IN CANAAN — HOPE IN EGYPT. 129
of Joseph's first appearance in Egypt, it is an eventful and in-
teresting voyage along the stream of time that has been pre-
sented to our view. And now, when the vessel that carries
the Church and her fortunes — may I not say Christ and his
fortunes, — passes or is transported from, the land of the Jordan
to the land of the Nile, a dismal catastrophe occurs, — a sad
enough wreck or waste is left.
The story told in the thirty-eighth chapter very probably
had its beginning before the events recorded in the thirty -
seventh ; for we cannot interpret very strictly the phrase " at
that time," or about that time (ver. 1) ; — unless, indeed, we
hold it to intimate, what we may regard as true, that the con-
summation of the story occurred cotemporaneously, or nearly
so, with the sale of Joseph.
Reuben, Simeon, and Levi, the three elder brothers of
Judah, having justly incurred the forfeiture of their privileges,
— Reuben by his invasion of his father's bed, — Simeon and
Levi, by their cruel treachery in avenging Dinah's fall, — Judah
stands now, naturally, first in the order of hereditary prefer-
ence among the sons of Jacob. The pre-eminence, judging
after the flesh, belongs to him. But, as if to make it conclu-
sively and clearly evident that the flesh must give place to the
spirit, and nature to grace, Judah also is found to have made
shipwreck of his integrity. He too has fallen.
How he was led astray at first, being induced to quit the
company of his brethren, by his fond and rash preference for
one of the people of the land (ver. 1) ; how that unwise and un-
warrantable friendship issued in his maniage with the daughter
of a Canaanite (ver. 2-5) ; how the fruit of that marriage was
foul and loathsome sin, bringing two sons in succession to
an untimely end (ver. 6-10); how liis breach of engagement
as to his third son moved his widowed daughter-in-law to
have recourse to so scandalous a stratagem as to be almost
unparalleled, for redressing the wrong done to her (ver. 11-16);
how Judah's unbridled lust, he being now a widower, and
VOL. II. K
130 SINFUL ANCESTRY OF "THE HOLY SEED."
no longer young, laid him open to the woman's wiles (ver.
15-23); how he was compelled to own his sad fault, and
if not to justify his partner in guilt, at least to condemn him-
self more than her (ver. 24-26) ; and how ultimately he
seems to have so far repented as to avoid any repetition
of his iniquity (ver. 26); — all these things are written
for our learning; being fitted to suggest practical lessons
of private and personal morality as important as they are
obvious. But there are two points of interest to be noted
as regards the more public bearing of this narrative on the
divine plan of providence and grace.
1. The practice afterwards sanctioned in the Mosaic
economy, by what is called the law of the Levirate (Deut. xxv.
5), is recognised as already in use in the chosen family ; — and
the reason of it is not obscurely indicated. It would seem
that it was not a practice that commended itself as suitable or
welcome to the natural man, — to a mind imbued with merely
natural notions, and without faith in the Messianic promise
which Abraham and his house had to grasp. Judah's sons by
his heathen wife were themselves, we may well suppose, more
heathen than Israelite. Hence the younger brother did
not care to take his elder brother's widow to wife, on the
understood condition of his first-born being reckoned that
elder brother's child, — so " raising up seed to his brother."
The unnatural crime by means of which the wicked and
wretched young man sought, and sought successfully, to
defraud his deceased brother and defeat his father's ordinance
— or rather the ordinance of his father's God, — while it stands
out conspicuously, in the record of its swift and terrible doom,
as a warning against all abuse of appetite, — is, at the same
time, a proof of the depth and strength of his repugnance to
what was required of him as an act of fraternal duty. And
hence it may serve to show that the chosen family of Israel
must have been reconciled to the custom, and to the enactment
of it in a statute, by some peculiar consideration.
GRIEF IN CANAAN — HOPE IN EGYPT. 131
Nor is it difficult to see what that was. Every true-hearted
son of Abraham cherished the eager hope that he might be
the ancestor of the promised Messiah — the seed of the woman
that was to bruise the head of the serpent. To die childless,
therefore, was not merely the disappointment of a natural
desire and expectation, — it was a cause of regret in a far
higher point of view. Hence the suitableness of the younger
brother being commanded to repair the defect, by taking his
elder brother's widow to wife, and raising up seed to him by
her. It was an appropriate office of brotherly love, inasmuch
as it substantially secured to one prematurely taken away, his
name and standing among the fathers of the families of Israel.
Thus there was a special reason for the practice among the
posterity of Abraham before the birth of Christ ; — a reason,
however, manifestly partial and temporary ; — not applicable to
mankind universally, nor to any portion of mankind, now that
Christ is born.
In the present instance, the reason comes out very clearly.
The family in which the practice was to be observed, was that
of Judah, of whom Christ was actually to be born ; so that,
over and above the sin, in the sight of God, of the pollution
done to himself, the offence of Judah's second son, as against
his deceased brother, was very highly aggravated. It went to
rob him of the honour, which he might otherwise have had,
of being held in law to be the progenitor of the promised
Saviour, — even of him in whom all the families of the earth
were to be blessed. To make this still clearer —
2. As it turned out in point of fact, it was through this
very woman, the widow of Judah's first-born, whom the
younger son so infamously wronged, that the descent of the
Messiah, according to the flesh, was to be traced. This
woman of Canaan is to be the mother of the promised seed
(Mat. i. 3).
Strange ! That from such an incestuous connection, to which
she knowingly tempted her father-in-law, and intowliich he
132 SINFUL ANCESTRY OF "THE HOLY SEED."
unwittingly fell, there should spring — " such an high priest as
became us, holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sin-
ners ! " Is it not strange indeed 1
Strange ! Nay, not more strange than that he should have
compassion on that other woman of Canaan, who in the days
of his flesh wrestled with him, and refused to let him go, until
he blessed her. That in his genealogy he should be mixed
up ^vith human sorrow and human sin, is a fitting type of his
being, when he comes, a man of sorrows, — a friend of pub-
licans, and sinners, — calling not the righteous but sinners to
repentance. This blot upon his escutcheon, — this bar-sinister
across his crest, — this blight in his family tree, — this taint of
heathenism and of harlotry in his ancestral blood, — is ordained
of set purpose. It is ordained, to abase the lordly pride and
pomp of lineage the most renowned, — to put a mockery on
earth's highest glory. It is ordained also, to mark the grace
and condescension of the Most High, — who gives his holy and
beloved Son, — that Son most freely consentmg, — to be one of
our unclean and guilty race, and to come — all holy and righte-
ous as he is in himself — into personal contact and conflict with
its guilt and its uncleanness ; — " his own self bearing our sins
in his own body on the tree, that we being dead to sins,
should Live unto righteousness " (1 Peter ii. 24).
And now, look, on the one hand, at the closing scene of
one act of the drama in Canaan ; and on the other, at the
opening of the next in Egypt.
I. (xxxvii. 29-36), Joseph is gone. The feast at the pit's
mouth is over. The bargain is struck and the money paid.
The captive boy, — with what tears and struggles on his part !
with what specious apologies on the part of his brothers ! — is
carried away. He may be thankful that it is no worse ; that
instead of being left miserably to perish amid slime and filth,
he is only sold into bondage in Egypt. It is the finest country
in the world, — with the widest scope for action,— where surely,
GRIEF IN CANAAN — HOPE IN EGYPT. 133
if there be anything in those dreams of his, he may somehow
find the means of distinguishing himself ; — and without claim-
ing any unseemly lordship over his father and his father's
house, gratify his ambitious aspirations to the utmost. At all
events, they are well rid of him now, for good. And the best
of it is that they are rid of hun without having his blood upon
their hands.
But their task is not over. They must devise some cun-
ning tale, — some plausible lie, — to account for Joseph's dis-
appearance.
First, Eeuben must in some way be satisfied. For he, as
it would seem, had withdrawn from their company, after he
had succeeded in persuading them to use the pit, rather than
the knife ; and in all probability without waiting to see them
act on his advice. For, even though he means to rescue his
young brother (ver. 21, 22), he shrinks from witnessing the
cruel treatment he is to receive. He cannot stand by while
these strong men so roughly seize and strip the lad, and cast
him helj^less into so loathsome a dungeon. On some plea or
other, he excuses himself from joining in their plot and their
repast, and retires into some secret place, intending to re-
turn when they are gone, — to save the lad's life and restore
him to his father. He does return, after allowing them, as he
supposes, time enough to finish their feast. He comes upon
them still where he had left them, — their business with the
merchants having detained them. Perhaps they are in the
very act of counting or concealing their gains. He expects to
discover Joseph in the pit ; and when he finds the pit empty,
it is a cry of real and bitter anguish that bursts from his lips,
as, "rending his clothes, he returns unto his brethren and
says, The child is not ; and I, whither shall I go?" (ver. 30).
How is this cry to be met 1 How are these murderers in
heart, man-sellers in act, to evade the keen questioning, and
face the righteous wrath, of their elder brother 1 — now, espe-
cially, when his vehement grief confirms, what from his absence
134 SINFUL ANCESTRY OF "THE HOLY SEED."
tliey may have begun to suspect before, — that he meant to as-
sume the office of Joseph's protector and deliverer 1 Do they
make him privy to the transaction of the sale 1 Do they tell
him that Joseph lives, and is on his way to push his fortune
in Egypt 1 That is not said, and does not appear from the
narrative. On the contrary, long afterwards, when Eeuben is
bringing home to their consciences, — and they are taking
home to their consciences, — this crime of theirs, as explaining
and justifying the Lord's judgment upon them, he assumes
apparently the death of Joseph (xlii. 22). Perhaps they tried
to deceive him by the same trumped up falsehood by which
they were soon to impose upon their father. And it is possible
that Eeuben may have been thus deceived, and that he may
have again left their company, under that impression, sad and
sorrowful, to weep alone, before they proceeded to put their
vile trick into execution (ver. 31, 32). At the same time, it
is not easy to acquit him of all blame ; for he could scarcely
be altogether satisfied by such a story. He was well aware
of the murderous intentions of these men, and must have had
some suspicion that in some way or other they had found
means to carry them into effect. He may not have been a
party to the device of the kid's blood staining the coat, any
more than to the crime which that device was meant to cover.
He may have believed that the blood was really Joseph's. But
was it indeed shed by a wild beast, and not by those who
avowedly sought the child's life 1 At all events, Eeuben does
not reveal at home all that he knows. He allows his brothers
to tell their tale, and lets it pass for the truth, and all the
truth, in silence. Is not his silence, however procured, sin ?
Thus with the intent of blood upon their consciences, —
the price of blood in their hands, — and a cruel lie in their lips,
these patriarchs and heads of houses in Israel return home to
their father.
Their story is at once believed : " It is my son's coat ; an
evil beast hath devoured him ; Joseph is without doubt rent
GRIEF IN CANAAN — HOPE IN EGYPT. 135
in pieces" (ver. 33). Such an accident is but too probable, —
considering the wild country into which Joseph, in pursuit of
his brethren, had wandered. The bereaved parent is utterly
cast down : " Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon
his loins, and mourned for his son many days" (ver. 34).
In vain his family gather round him to suggest the ordi-
nary topics of consolation, — some of them . hypocritically per-
haps at first, — but soon even the worst of them, after a sort,
sincerely (ver. 35). For they are scarcely prepared, these hard
and cold men, for the deep and lasting grief into which they
have plunged their father ; they had not anticipated that the
blow would fall so heavily. It was, as they represented it, a
providential dispensation ; a sad enough affliction, no doubt,
but one " common to man," — the loss of a darling child, by a
calamity that could not have been prevented or helped by any
human foresight, skill, or strength. So, they imagined, the
event must have looked in their father's eyes ; and they might
have expected therefore that he would manifest the meek
patience and submission of faith, and say, " It is the Lord, let
him do what seemeth good." And then it is but one of a
large family that is gone. His house is still firmly established
for generations to come. He has even one pledge left of his
lost Eachel's love, — her Benoni, — his Benjamin. And the
promised seed continues to be safe.
But the bereaved father " refuses to be comforted ;" the
hurt is not lightly healed. The wound inflicted on his
tenderest affections is incurable on this side the tomb : " And
he said. For I will go down into the grave unto my son
mourning. Thus his father wept for him" (ver. 35).
Ah ! have his sons no misgivings now — no relentings ?
Would they have done what they did, if they had foreseen all
this agony of a parent's soul ? But the deed is beyond recal.
They cannot bring Joseph back; they dare not even hint
that he may be yet alive ; they will not retract their lie.
Could they hope to be believed if they did ? Joseph, at all
136 SINFUL ANCESTRY OF "THE HOLY SEED."
events, is as much lost to his old father as if he were " with-
out doubt rent in pieces." It would be no kindness to un-
deceive Jacob, and so substitute for a painful sense of irre-
trievable loss, a still more painful suspense, never to be either
satisfied or ended. Therefore they may think that they do
well to keep silence. Even Judah holds his peace. They
can but join their efforts to those of Eeuben. His sympathy
at least is real. But alas ! is his offence forgotten 1 Can
the wronged and outraged parent listen to the soothing
words of one who has so recently wrought him such dis-
grace ? And can he fail to detect, under the soothing words
of the others, — however they may now be, on the v/hole,
sincerely anxious to comfort him — occasional gleams of
satisfaction in their countenances, at the thought of Joseph
being got rid of?
So, in spite of sons and daughters rising up to comfort
him, the bereaved father continues to weep for Joseph.
For Judah also he is now called to weep, if possible, still
more bitter tears. The fruit of his miserable transgression is
now coming to light. All in the chosen household is sin,
soiTow, shame.
One only sign of good is there in it, and that is as yet
secret. The ancestor of the Messiah is born ; alas ! under
no promising auspices, judging after the flesh. The holy
seed is still the substance of the smitten and ravaged tree
(Isaiah vi 13).
Thus the curtain falls on the last scene of the drama for
the present in Canaan.
II. It rises, — and another scene, or succession of scenes,
opens to view. Lo ! a company of merchants marching
through the wilderness ; and in the midst of them a young
lad, with bleeding feet and streaming eyes, bound, footsore,
weary, a servant, a slave (xxxvii. 3 6). And lo ! again, a
GRIEF IN CANAAN — HOPE IN EGYPT. 137
youth of promise, in a lordly mansion, on the road to pre-
ferment and the highest honour (xxxix. 1-6.)
But first, once more, Behold a prisoner, falsely charged
■svith crime, — wearing out long days in a prison-house, and yet
even there seen and known to be without fault.
And finally, Behold this ^^Tonged and affiicted one, —
justified, exalted, raised to reign over all the land, to wield all
royal sovereignty and power, — to be " a light to lighten the
Gentiles, and the glory of his own people Israel."
138 HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION
LIIL
HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION YET WITHOUT SIN.
Genesis xxxix.
He sent a man before tliem, even Joseph, who was sold for a servant ;
whose feet they hurt with fetters ; he was laid in iron. — Psalm
cv. 17, 18.
The lessons to be learned from the life and adventures of
Joseph, considered simply as a matter of human history, or of a
divine history of human experiences, lie on the very surface of
the narrative ; so much so that the business of drawing them
out, and setting them in formal didactic array, is apt to
become trite and tedious. For the most part, indeed, com-
ment serves rather to weaken than to enforce the teaching of
the Spirit in this matchless biography. It really tells its own
tale, and suggests its own moral throughout, so clearly and so
pathetically, that it might seem best to leave it to make its
own impression, undiluted and unadulterated b}^ the reflec-
tions, however sound, of ordinary exposition.
But Joseph can scarcely be considered simply in his indi-
vidual character or capacity. He must be viewed as standing in
a very peculiar relation to the church of God, as then represented
by the chosen family of Abraham. In a very special sense,
and in a very unusual manner, the church is bound up with
him ; — her history with his, and her prospects with his. In
him and through him, she is to undergo a very special course
of discipline, and to pass through a most momentous and sig-
nificant change or crisis. Virtually, for a time, the church, as
YET WITHOUT SIN. 139
to her trials and hopes, is identified with him. Joseph in
Egypt is working out the problem of her earthly progress.
Hence, it is almost impossible not to regard Joseph as
sustaining, more than any of the other patriarchs, a sort of
Messianic character, executing Messianic offices, and passing
through Messianic experiences.
It is not merely that ingenuity may trace in what befel
Joseph much that may be represented as analogous to what
we find recorded in the gospels concerning Christ. Resem-
blances of a more or less typical character cannot fail to be
observed between him and Christ, and between his varied life
and Christ's, by the most literal and unimaginative comment-
ator. I cannot but think, however, that we have to recognise
a closer bond of union than that which such incidental coinci-
dences might establish between Joseph and Jesus. Before-
hand, we might anticipate, I apprehend, a parallelism between
the two biographies, because the two subjects of them are
themselves closely parallel, and intimately associated with one
another. In this view, it might almost be said, with literal
truth, that Joseph is the Jesus of the Old Testament church's
history. In him, as in Jesus, the church is represented and
developed.
The full truth and meaning of this virtual identification of
the two may come out more clearly as the examination of the
sacred narrative proceeds. I advert to the subject now, as
explaining the method which I adopt in opening up the record
which the chapter under review contains — I. of Joseph's first
appearance in Egypt in a low estate ; II. of his nobility of
nature being even there, from the beginning, recognised ; III.
of his manifold and complex temptation ; IV. of his suffering
what was to him almost w^orse than death, through his refusal
to yield when tempted ; and V. of his being owned — even in
the lowest depths — as one chosen and beloved of the Lord.
Thus the humiliation of Joseph in Egypt may be traced
in several of its successive features and stages somewhat signi-
ficantly.
140 HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION
I. Joseph first appears in Egypt in the low estate of a
servant ; " Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh, captain of the guard,
an Egyptian, bought him of the hands of the Ishmaelites,
which had brought him down thither" (ver. 1). His being
found in that condition at all is noticeable. It is not his
original, natural condition ; it is one into which he is brought
in a specially remarkable manner, — by a train of events and
circumstances altogether out of the ordinary course of things, —
by his being subjected to treatment to which, in his own proper
sphere, he never could have been exposed. He himself, after-
wards, in looking back to it, ascribes his coming into the posi-
tion of a servant in Egypt to a special divine act or appoint-
ment,— when he says to his brethren : — " Be not grieved nor
angry with yourselves that ye sold me hither ; it was not you
that sent me hither, but God" (xlv. 8). It is noticeable, too,
that he puts this construction upon his being made a serv^ant,
in subordination to a divine purpose of mercy and salvation to
be accomplished by that means ; — " to preserve life ; to save
your lives with a great deliverance." In point of fact, as we
have seen, this change in his condition took place when he
was on an errand of kindness to his brethren, — and an errand
of kindness, moreover, voluntary and spontaneous on his part.
His going on to Dothan, instead of stopping short at Shechem
(xxvii. 12-17), was, so far as appears, his own act. Doubtless,
he was obeying the spirit, if not the letter, of the command-
ment he had received from his father. But he might have
returned home from Shechem, with the report that his brethren
were not there, where he had been instructed to look for them.
His going farther, alone, in search of them, through a wild and
savage region, involved no little toil and risk, and was a proof
at once of loyalty to his father, and kindly affection towards
his brethren. He was not bound to go ; it was altogether of
his own accord that he went. God, as it would seem, had so
arranged matters that in his visit to his brethren he should
be manifestly a volunteer ; and it is in the very act of visiting
YET WITHOUT SIN. 141
them as a volunteer, that he becomes a servant. His becom-
ing a servant may thus be \dewed as forming part of a divine
plan of salvation. And it is not remotely connected, so far as
he himself is concerned, with an act indicating both willing
obedience to his father and spontaneous goodwill to his
brethren.
II. In his humiliation as a servant, his nobility of nature
early and conspicuously shone forth (ver. 2-6). The grace of
God, — a certain divine gracefulness, — was upon him. A cer-
tain glory also, — a certain air of distinction, — bespeaking a
higher origin and rank, distinguished the young Hebrew from
the beginning. He grew in favour with God and man. " The
Lord was with Joseph, and he was a prosperous man." In
person and accomplishments, in mind and body, he excelled.
In whatever he undertook he prospered. In the pursuits and
exercises of the youth about him, — in the discipline and learn-
ing of the Egyptians, — in the tasks imposed upon him and
the trusts committed to him, — he proved himself eminently
successful. Evidently he was one on whom fortune smiled
propitious. He won men's hearts too. He found grace in
his master's sight, as he served him, and was subject to him,
in all dutifulness and respectful obedience. So, in the years
of ripening boyhood and opening manhood, his character
unfolded itself Through the disguise of his low servile state,
glimpses of what he really was appeared. It was no ordinary
personage who had come from afar to take his place among
Egypt's swarthy children, — but one fairer than any of them,
— one, moreover, whose very presence brought a blessing with
it, in house and field, — one to whom all things that his lord
had, at home and abroad, might be safely left, — one high in
the esteem of heaven, — " a goodly person" also, " and well-
favoured."
III. Joseph is exposed to solitary temptation, — led, as it
were, by the Spirit into the wilderness, into solitude, to be
tempted, — and tempted truly of a deVil (ver. 7-9).
142 HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION
The temptation is, in the first aspect of it, an appeal to
appetite, — to carnal or bodily desire, — to the hunger of youth-
ful lust. Strong in itself, it is strengthened by its being an
insidious compliment to his high birth and concealed nobility.
It is as one who, although in form a servant, is really some-
thing more, — as it were, a son of God, — that he is asked to
take this course, — a course ordinarily unlawful, but in the case
of one such as he is, and situated as he is situated, surely
not unwarrantable, — not too great a liberty. Why should not
this son of God, if needful, turn stones into bread ] So the
terms of the trial might virtually run. It was not every one,
or any one, of the servants in the house that would have
received such an invitation from such a quarter. The proposal
is a flattering acknowledgment of his superiority ; it is a chal-
lenge to him to take advantage of the position which his
acknowledged superiority entitles him to assume ; to avail
himself — so the matter might be plausibly represented — of the
privilege which it brings within his reach. Thus subtle is the
temptation as it deals with natural appetite, or the lust of the
flesh.
But in another view, it is even more subtle still. Compli-
ance might have set him on a pinnacle of luxury and pomp,
from which, when he chose to condescend, or cast himself
down, he would have been received by his old familiars almost
as one coming from a higher sphere. The prospect doubtless
was held out to him, of some exalted and brilliant position to
be reached through the influence which, if he had consented,
would have been at his command. Nor is it difficult to see, —
if those acquainted with the ways of Eastern courts, from of
old till now, tell us true, — ^how whatever we would think dis-
graceful to either party in the transaction might have been
cautiously covered, or ingeniously got over, and a lavish grant
of honourable place and title might have come through the
tempter's wily ascendency over the very man who, as a
husband, would have been so cruelly wronged by her.
YET WITHOUT SIN. 143
Nor is even this all. If the spirit of ambition as well as
the love of pleasure and of show has place in Joseph's heart,
— if the possession of " all the kingdoms of the world and the
glory of them" is a prize worth the having, in his esteem, — if
such pre-eminence of power and influence over the civihsed
earth as he afterwards reached through a very diff'erent experi-
ence,— although he could not in his wildest dreams imagine it
possible then, — yet if that, or more than that, in the line of
universal empire, would gratify him, — what limit can be set
to his tempter's ability to place him, — if only he will take
counsel of her, and can keep it, — on the ladder of promotion
to the right hand of what was then the throne of all thrones
among mankind ?
I am persuaded that I do not greatly err, in ascribing to
the temptation of Joseph this complex, threefold character, —
making it turn on these three j^rinciples or elements of the
world's antagonism to God, — " the lust of the flesh, the lust of
the eyes, and the pride of life." In the view of the relative
position of the parties, and the whole circumstances of the
case, it may be regarded as all but certain that such prizes as
I have indicated were held out to the Jewish captive as the
rewards of compliance, and held out by one who might well be
believed to have the power of making even so great promises
good.
On the other hand, it is equally obvious that the too
probable consequences of declinature must have been present
to Joseph's mind. He was too clear-sighted not to perceive
that such blandishment, if withstood, might, or rather must,
turn to resentment and revenge. Satan, the prince of this
world, having tried the wiles of flattery in vain, will have
recourse to threats and violence. The short and easy road of
pleasure, pomp, and power, being in faith and godly fear con-
scientiously declined, it is but too obvious, as the only other
side of the alternative, that Joseph must lay his account with
meeting wrath to the uttermost. And if ever the promise of
144 HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION
those early dreams of his, which he so simply told, and which
his father counted so worthy of observation, is to be realised,
it can only be through even deeper shame and sorrow than he
has yet endured. It can only be through much tribulation
that he is to enter into his glory. He is to be tried and per-
fected by suffering.
lY. The narrative of Joseph's disgrace (ver. 17-20) is not
to be discredited because similar narratives occur in profane
or uninspired literature, whether poetical or historical, —
legendary or authentic. That only shows how true, alas ! to
nature, — to female nature, corrupted, abandoned, and debased,
— is the conduct ascribed to the foiled and disappointed agent
in this crafty plot of Satan against the righteous.
Charged with odious and heinous iniquity ; laden with the
accusation of a crime against the God whom he professed to
serv^e, and an offence against the ruler in whose house he was ;
condemned, not justly, — for "this man has done nothing
amiss," — but on false testimony, Joseph has to bear the doom
of the sin imputed to him, and to expiate its guilt, by endur-
ing a sentence almost worse than death. For to his pure
mind and tender heart, — to a soul so sensitively alive as his
was to the honour of Jehovah and the sanctity of his law, and
so prompt in its recoil from the very idea of disaffection or
disloyalty to the master under whom he lived, — the disgrace
of such an infamous imprisonment, — the reproach of such a
cross, — must have been little short of prolonged agony and
torture of the cruellest kind.
Whether or not the abridgment of his liberty was accom-
panied with any of those aggravating circumstances of cruel
barbarity which are but too common, in such instances, under
tyrannical power, subordinate or supreme, would be compara-
tively a small matter for him. The liistory speaks of his
being put in a part of the prison " where the king's prisoners
were bound;" — and again, of his being in "the dungeon"
(xl. 15 ; xh. 14). The Psalmist represents him as having
YET ^YITHOUT SIN. 145
" his feet hurt with fetters," and as " being bound in iron."
And what sort of punishment confinement in the dungeon of
a king's prison was, may be learned from the experience of
Jeremiah (Jer. xxx\Tii. 6-13). In every view of it, Joseph's
fate is, at this crisis, hard and sad enough. He is brought
ver}' low. Not only are his fair and warrantable hopes of an
honourable extrication, by the well-won favour of his patron,
from the state of ser\dtude into which he had come, nipped
and blighted : but there he lies, prostrate, helpless, — plunged
in the mire of a loathsome cell, and the still more intolerable
mire of a vile reproach which his whole soul abhors, — himself
loaded with unmerited obloquy, and the name of that God
whom he sought to honour in the heathen's sight, ^rickedly
blasphemed on his account. He is indeed, as it might seem,
forsaken of all, abandoned by earth and heaven alike, and left
all alone in his anguish and agony. The arm of the ruler,
wdiich ought to have shielded him from injustice, is by a lying
witness turned against him. Home memories rushing in
upon his heart only madden him Tvith the thought that b}'
this time, where he had been so fondly cherished, so favourite,
so well-beloved a son, his name is probably never heard. All
evil mouths are open, and all evil tongues are busy, against
him. Lovers and friends have gone from him. The iron is
entering into liis flesh and into his spirit. The earth is shaken
beneath him. The heavens are darkened over him. " My
God," he may cry, "my God, why hast thou forsaken me V
(Ps. xxii. 1.)
Y. But even in the utmost depths of his humiliation, his
glory is seen (ver. 21-23). In the midst of all liis sufferings
as a reputed sinner, something of the essential glory and
beauty of his nature, something of his exalted character and
rank, appears. " Certainly this was a righteous man ; " — " Truly
tliis was the son of God ; (Luke xxiii. 47 ; Mat. xxvii. 54) —
such, in substance, is the impression made on the keeper, in
whose sight the Lord gives Joseph favour. For " the Lord
VOL. II. L
146 HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION
was with him, and showed him mercy." He was not to be left
without some witness from on high of his being indeed, in spite
of all outward appearances, the Lord's chosen servant. He
has the witness in himself; the Spirit witnessing with his
spirit that he is a child of God, and enabHng him, in the
strength of conscious innocence and integrity, and in the still
greater strength of the divine approval and support consciously
enjoyed, — " the love of God shed abroad in his heart by the
Holy Ghost being given to him," — to resist almost " unto blood,
striving against sin," and to " endure the cross, despising the
shame." And out of himself, in his being recognised and
acknowledged by one and another, given to him by the Lord
to be the first-fruits of his pain, — won over to him in his
affliction and by his affliction, — he has a testimony that, how-
ever he may be despised and rejected of men generally, he is
owned by some as accepted of God. His trial, and his manner
of bearing it, tell upon a few, at least, among the onlookers.
From the very officer appointed to guard him, — as if it were
from the Eoman centurion beside the cross, — this admirable
sufferer wins sympathy and approval. And soon it is to
appear that his fellow-sufferers in the same condemnation are
not all to prove insensible to his claims. Joseph in prison,
like Jesus on the cross, is still beloved by God. And his very
imprisonment, his very cross, is the occasion of his being seen
and felt and owned to be so.
These, surely, are sufficiently significant indications of
parallelism between the humiliation of Joseph and that of
Jesus ; — enough to warrant us in viewing the events in Egypt
as eminently, and in a very special sense, typical of the incar-
nation at Bethlehem, and the crucifixion at Jerusalem.
But the narrative, considered simply as a narrative of life
and character, must not be dismissed without some notice of
the double lesson which it is fitted powerfully to enforce.
1. See, young man, where your strength must lie in resist-
YET WITHOUT SIN. 147
ing temptation ; — " How can I do this great wickedness and
sin against God 1 "
Joseph's pre\ious remonstrance seems intended to influence
the weak or wicked woman who is soliciting him ; — " Behold,
my master wotteth not what is with me in the house, and he hath
committed all that he hath to my hand ; there is none greater
in this house than I ; neither hath he kept back any thing
from me but thee, because thou art his wife " (ver. 8, 9). He
suggests considerations which, even apart from the motives of
pure religion, might have been expected to tell on an unin-
structed heathen mind. The rights of his master, sacred in
his eyes, ought to have been sacred in the eyes of his tempter
also, — all the more because that master evidently reposed sucli
honourable confidence in both.
But his defence for himself lies in God; — in a prompt,
abrupt, instant, and, as it were, instinctive appeal to God, as
in his law forbidding this sin, and all sin, peremptorily and
without room for evasion, or exception, or compromise.
It is that which puts all casuistiy and sophistical special
pleading aside. Joseph does not deliberate, or parley, or de-
bate. He takes the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of
God. His reply virtually is, "It is written." I dare not take
into my own hands the gratifying or pleasing of myself I
dare not presume to tempt the Lord my God by venturing on
unwarranted pleasure or promotion, and challenging him to
keep me. I worship the Lord alone, and him only do I serve.
" How shall I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?"
Ah ! let me beseech you, brother, in this spirit, to " flec^
youthful lusts, which war against the soul." Flee, as this
tempted Israelitish youth did. Stand not to argue, or even to
contend. Flee for your life. And that you may flee, at once,
resolutely, with fear and trembling, — with haste and horror,
— put the matter plainly, as Joseph did — "How shall I do
this great vAickedness, and sin against God?"
It .sciff^-^-y in any temptation.
148 HUMILIATION AND TEMPTATION
Beware of going beyond it. Beware of beginning to question
and to reason. Beware of raising specious arguments of ex-
pediency, or of possible lawfulness or excuseableness. Be
decided. Be firm. And be sure that " whatsoever is not of
faith is sin." Enter into no doubtful disputations. " He that
doubteth is condemned if he eat." Stand fast in the only
stronghold of integiity,- — the abrupt, strong, honest outburst
of holy Zealand indignation, — "How shall I do this great
wickedness, and sin against God"?"
'2. Learn to endure and hope, however dark the dunge<:»n
may be in which, through no fault of your o^vn, perhaps for
your faithfulness to God, and his law, and his truth, you may
be plunged. Be sure that occasions and opportunities for
glorif}dng God in your tribulation will open up before you. Be
patient, be meek, be submissive. And wait, and watch ; —
"AVeeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the
morniuiT."
Praise the Lord then, "even in the fires;" in prison, a large
room may be opened. From the cross, which you share with
Jesus, a word, or voice, or influence in season, may go forth to
win souls to Jesus, as well as to win friends to yourself. Be
not then slow of heart to believe such gracious assurances as
these ; — " Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to
fear ; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby
we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth "svitness with
our spirit, that we are the children of God : and if children,
then heirs ; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ ; if so
be that we suffer ^vith him, that we may be also glorified
together. For I reckon that the suff"erings of this present
time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which
shall be revealed in us" (Eom. viii. 15-18). And think for
what end it may please the Lord that you should be brought
low ; what good may come to men, and what glory to God,
through your being brought low. " Look not every man on
his own things, but every man also on the things of others.
YET WITHOUT SIN. 149
Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus :
who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be
equal with God : but made himself of no reputation, and took
upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness
of men : and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled
himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of
the cross. "Wlierefore God also hath highly exalted him, and
given him a name which is above every name : that at the
name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven and
things in earth, and things under the earth ; and that every
tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory
of God the Father" (Philip, ii. 4-11).
150 THE SUFFERING SAVIOUK.
LIV.
THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR— THE SAVED AND LOST.
Genesis xl.
This child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel ; and for a
sign which shall be spoken against ; that the thoughts of many hearts
may be revealed. — Luke ii. 34, 35.
Then were there two thieves crucified with him ; one on the right liand.
and another on the left. — Matthew xxvii. 38.
The successive steps or stages of Joseph's humiliation may be
briefly recapitulated. 1. He is sent by his father on an
errand of kindness to his brethren — and with his whole heart
he goes on that errand, determined to seek and find them,
however far they may have wandered from home. 2. He
comes to his own, and his own do not receive him. A plot is
formed against him the moment he appears in sight. The
dreamer must be got rid of. " This is the heir ; come let us
kill him." 3. They will kill him, if needful, themselves. But
they think it better to dehver him into the hands of the
Gentiles. It is a shrewd device — lilve that of the Jews long
after — to make Pilate do their work — to get him wTio came to
visit them in love disposed of, not by them, but by the men of
another nation. 4. Joseph is valued and sold — cheaply
valued, treacherously sold. 5. As a servant he is found in
Egypt, dwelling among Pharaoh's servants — and yet so
dwelling among them as to give evidence of his being a child
of heaven, gracious, true, and fair ; and to give promise, also.
of some high destiny in store for him. 6. He is led into
THE SAVED AND LOST. 151
solitary temptation, assailed with solicitations appealing to
three of the strongest principles in our human nature —
appetite, ostentation, ambition ; — the lust of the flesh, the lust
of the eye, and the pride of life. He is virtually offered all
that can gratify his utmost wishes for pleasure, pomp, and
power — if he will only worship a devil. 7. His tempter,
foiled in flattery, tries persecution. A liar, like him who is
"a liar from the beginning, and the father of it," Joseph's
assailant prevails against him by false testimony, and so
succeeds in having him condemned. 8. Brought under
condemnation, having guilt imputed to him, laden with
obloquy, doomed to a servile punishment, Joseph is still so
marked as God's own child, that amid all the darkness of his
unmerited suff'ering, he is recognised, by the very officer
appointed to carry out his sentence, as a righteous man.
Thus, with mingled e\ddences of grace and degradation —
of a high character and a lowly state — Joseph comes to sound
the depths of his appointed humiliation. And now we find
him, even in the lowest of these depths — as it were, on the
cross itself — still owned and honoured by God ; appointed to
be an arbiter of destiny, if I may so speak, to those between
whom his cross stands ; and that in such a manner as evidently
to prepare the way for his own approaching exaltation.
It is the close of his humiliation, therefore, that is now to
be considered.
Joseph in prison, at the extreme point of his humiliation,
appears as the dispenser of life and death among his fellow-
prisoners. He is the instrument or occasion of a decisive
separation between the two whom he finds involved in the
same condemnation with himself. He fixes authoritatively
and conclusively their opposite destinations.
From the first, he is not altogether under a cloud ; what
he really is in himself, shines out from beneath his prison-
garb, in spite of the drawbacks of his prison-state (ver. 1-4).
Not only does he find favour, — the Lord being with him and
152 THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR.
showing him mercy, — in the sight of the keeper of the prison,
— but even the captain of the guard, Potiphar himself, seems
to have relented.
For it must be Potiphar who, recei™g from the king the
two officers with whom he is ^v^oth, puts them where Joseph
is confined, and charges Joseph with the care of them. As com-
manding the king's body-guard, he had charge of the state-
prison, — which was indeed part of his own house, — with a
subordinate keeper under him; — a common arrangement in old
eastern despotisms. That being his position, it was easy for
him to consign Joseph to imprisonment without trial, or with
such trial as he might choose to count sufficient. And it was
equally easy for him to have other state prisoners associated
with Joseph, and placed under his superintendence, if he so
chose. That he should have so chosen in this instance, need
not appear strange or surprising. Perhaps he doubted all
along the truth of the accusation against Joseph, and sus-
pected its unworthy motive, although he felt himself con-
strained to yield to influence and importunity that he dared
not withstand, and sacrifice to the malice of disappointed
desire, one in whom he had no fault to find. Or if at first
credulous, and naturally inflamed with sudden wrath, he may
have begun, on cooler reflection and better information, to
change his mind. Or he may have received such reports of
Joseph's demeanour in prison, from his subordinate officer, as
to cause a revulsion of feeling, — and his old confidence may
thus be beginning to return. At all events, it is by his order
and mth his consent that Joseph is pLaced, — as it was by
Pilate's order that Jesus was placed, — between the two male-
factors.
In that position he was " charged with them and served
them " (ver. -i). It was a double function. He waited upon
them and Avas their attendant, — responsible doubtless in that
capacity for their safe custody, — but not authorised to act as
their superior, — only entitled to officiate as their servant. For
THE SAVED AND LOST. 153
they were evidently persons of some rank and consideration in
Pharaoh's court, — although the precise position of each is
about as hard to be ascertained as his offence ;— and as
unimportant and irrelevant, for any practical purpose, if it
could be ascertained. They were cliiefs in theii' respective
departments. They may have been guilty of fraud, — of what
in meaner men would be called theft. Under some such
accusation probably they were suffering, having Joseph be-
tween them, ready to serve and be of use to them. Thus
" they continued a season in ward."
The day, however, now dawns that is to decide their
respective fates. In the morning, Joseph visits them, as usual ;
and finding them discomposed, he naturally asks the reason,
" wherefore look ye so sadly to-day V Carelessly perhaps, and
as a mere matter of civility, they inform him, — " We have
dreamed a dream, and there is no interpreter of it." And
they are somewhat startled, we may be sure, by Joseph's
reply: — "Do not interpretations belong to God] tell me them,
I pray you " (ver. 6-8).
For it might well be deemed a strange reply from such a
one as Joseph must have appeared to them to be. Who was
he that he should dare to speak in so high a tone, and under-
take so confidently what he avows to be a divine office 1 A
servant, — one who ministered to them in humble guise, — a
prisoner, — a convict, — one whom they may have been disposed
to treat with supercilious indifference or despiteful indignity, —
a poor degraded Israelite, — in their proud eyes contemptible.
What wonder if both of these more reputable victims of the
frowns of power should have laughed to scorn the lofty pre-
tentions of one who was more a victim than themselves 1
They may have done so, both of them, at first. But if so,
one of them at least speedily relents. For we begin here to
recognise a distinction between them. And the distinction is
CD
vital and fatal.
I. The chief butler, at once and unhesitatingly, told his
154 THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR.
dream (ver. 9-15). His doing so, and the result of his doing
so, are in several views not a little remarkable.
1 . He acted in faith. He believed Joseph's own assurance,
— for it was virtually an assurance on Joseph's part, — of his
having a commission from God to interpret the dream. And
it was this faith that made him tell it. It was no child's play,
or holiday-sport, between Joseph and these men — no mere
trick of ingenious riddle-reading and guess-work. It was not
an affair of magic, or legerdemain, or vulgar fortune-telling —
a conjuror practising his sleight-of-hand manoeuvi'es and mani-
pulations— an oneiromantist, or dream-prophet, with his jargon
of spnbols and occult senses, affecting to weave the idle
thoughts of a tossing bed into a plausible web of fate. Joseph
at least is in earnest. His trumpet gives no uncertain sound.
He assumes the prophetic character, as decidedly as Daniel did
when he stood before Nebuchadnezzar — or Christ when he
comforted the dying thief. He undertakes to speak for God
— to speak as the oracle of God. It is avowedly on that foot-
ing that he invites his companions to tell him their dreams ;
he would not on any other footing encourage them to expect
any satisfaction from him. And therefore, when the chief
butler proceeded to act upon the invitation, it must have been
from a decided persuasion, on his part, of the reality of Joseph's
claim. But for some such conviction, we cannot imagine that
he would have received Joseph's proposal otherwise than with
ridicule and abuse. There was that, however, about Joseph
which inspired confidence in his divine mission. " He spake
as one having authority," and not as the soothsayers — " not
as tlie scribes."
'2. The faith thus exercised meets with an immediate re-
compense ; as well it may, for it is of no ordinary sort. In
opening his mind to Joseph, the chief butler virtually acknow-
ledges him as a chosen servant of God, entitled to declare his
will, and on his behalf to show things to come. He does so,
in spite of outward appearances and outward circumstances.
THE SAVED AND LOST. 155
He sees through the veil of suffering and shame a divine grace
and glory shining forth in this seeming culprit. The truth
being its own witness — the divine Spirit in Joseph's soul mak-
ing his presence there even outwardly manifest — the man per-
ceives that he is a prophet, one whom God has sent and sealed.
And he makes known to him his dream accordingly.
3. The dream and its interpretation are both of God ; being
God's method of revelation — the method of revelation which
he saw fit on this, as on other occasions, to adopt. It is idle
to be speculating about the principles and laws of this sort of
divine communication ; estimating the probability of the dream
beforehand, or laying down the supposed rules of its subsequent
explanation. To dream about a vine, with its buds, and blos-
soms, and clusters, and ripe grapes, and to connect all the par-
ticulars of the dream with a scene in Pharaoh's palace — the
dreamer himself doing his office as cup-bearer, pressing the
grapes into the cup, and giving the cup into the monarch's
hands — all that may seem natural enough, and well fitted to
suggest sage remarks as to the working of the mind in sleep.
Any shrewd deceiver, we may be apt to think, might take the
hint and gratify the credulous dupe consulting him, with a
flattering prediction in the line of what was obviously running
in his head. But nothing of that sort will suit the parties
here, or fit into their relation to one another. There is no
room for the supposition of this being anything like an ordi-
nary case of dream-telling and dream-interpreting, after the
fashion of what has sometimes been reduced almost to a system
or a science — the art of turning to account man's inveterate
superstitious proneness to pry into futurity. The whole must
be accepted as altogether the Lord's doing.
4. It is so accepted by the chief butler himself. If it was
in faith, believing Joseph to be what he professed to be, that
he told him his dream at first, much more now, in faith, he
must have received the interpretation of his dream as from
heaven. Joseph had not said, Tell me the dream, and I will
156 THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR.
see if I can find a possible or likely meaning in it. He had
appealed to God, and announced himself as able and autho-
rised to put God's own infallible meaning on it. It was on
that understanding that the man had placed his case in Joseph's
hands. Clearly, therefore, Joseph's word must have been to
him as God's. "Within three days" thou shalt be, as it w^ere,
"in paradise," — taken from the prison to the king's palace and
the king's presence — no longer languishing in the torture of
condemnation, but safe from wrath and high in favour. Such
salvation does Joseph announce to his fellow-sufferer.
5. Is it too much for Joseph to couple with the announce-
ment of this salvation, so simple and touching a request as
this : — " But think on me when it shall be well w^itli thee, and
show kindness, I pray thee, unto me, and make mention of
me unto Pharaoh, and bring me out of this house : for indeed
I was stolen away out of the land of the Hebrews : and here
also have I done nothing that they should put me into the
dungeon " 1 Can anything be more reasonable ? Can any-
thing be more pathetic ?
It is not here, as it was in the instance of one greater
than Joseph, when he sj^oke peace to the poor criminal hang-
ing on a cross beside him. Then the petition to be re-
membered in the kingdom came from the malefactor to the
Saviour; here it comes from the saviour to the malefactor.
The situation is simply reversed. It is his fellow-sufiferer who
says to Jesus, " Lord, remember me when thou comest unto
thy kingdom ;" — it is Joseph who for himself makes virtually
this same request of his fellow-sufferer, — " Think on me when
it shall be well with thee." There is no risk whatever, in the
case of the one petition, of its being forgotten or overlooked.
Alas ! there is but too much risk in the case of the other.
When it is the deliverer, the saviour — for such, to all intents
and purj^oses was Joseph's position here — who begs a favour
of the party delivered, there is but too great a likelihood of
his finding that he has begged it in vain. What ground for
THE SA^^:D AND LOST. 157
thankfulness is ours when we reflect, that the party needing
deliverance, when he begs a favour of his deliverer, can never
incur the hazard of any such sad disappointment !
Joseph might doubt whether the man who owed so much
to him would indeed think of him when he was once himself out
of the fellowship of suffering which had made them so much
akin. We may be very sure that Jesus in his exaltation will
remember us. It is not that we can make out a better case,
or show more cause why we should be remembered. Joseph's
plea is stronger far, upon the merits, than any plea of ours
can possibly be. He can appeal to his blameless innocency,
his spotless righteousness. He has done nothing to deserve
the dungeon ; he is well worthy of a better destiny. And
the man to whom he appeals is surely bound to him by most
affecting ties, of communion in disgrace and sorrow, and com-
munion also in sym^pathy and kindness, given and received.
AVhat, in comparison, is our plea ? We have well merited the
worst that can befall us. And the Man to whom we appeal
is he whom we have pierced ! But he will not neglect our
appeal to him, as we, like Joseph's friend the butler, might
be found but too apt to neglect his appeal to us.
Did it depend on our remembering him — had it depended
even on that penitent and pardoned thief remembering
him — to fix and determine how soon Jesus should come
to his kingdom, — who can tell but that he might have been
left dying, or dead, — as Joseph was left languishing in the
prison, — aye ! to this very hour. Thanks be to God, it was
the Father's remembrance of him, and not ours, that was to
bring our Joseph out of his dungeon to his royal court; — to
bring Jesus from his cross to his crown.
It is ours to ask him to remember us in his kingdom.
Nor vnll he ever fail to do so.
He will not forget his having shared our imprisonment, our
condemnation, our guilt and doom. All that he endured with
us and for us, when he took his place beside us, and accepted as
158 THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR.
his own our criminality and our curse, must ever be fresh in
his mind and heart. Joseph's fellow-sufferer might cease to
think, in his prosperity, of the pains of their common distress ;
but our fellow -sufferer is ever mindful of the agony of the
time when he made common cause with us, and bore instead
of us our sin and sorrow. Therefore we may ask our fellow-
sufferer to remember us with somewhat more of confidence
than Joseph may have felt when he asked his fellow-sufferer
to remember him. For have we not his own gracious words,
— "Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not
have compassion on the son of her womb 1 yea, they may for-
get, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee
upon the palms of my hands ; thy walls are continually before
me" (Is. xlix. 15, 16).
II. The case of the chief baker stands out in sad contrast
to that of his companion in tribulation (ver. 16-19). He
had not been so ready to place his trust in Joseph, and to own
him as entitled to speak for God. Rather, as we may too
probably gather from the whole scope of the narrative, he
had continued incredulous, perhaps contemptuous. When
Joseph spoke so simply, — " Do not interpretations belong to
God % tell me the dreams I pray you," — he may have been in-
clined to rail at him, saying : If thou be such a favourite of
heaven, save thyself Wouldst thou be where thou art, if
God were so with thee as to warrant thine assumption of being
his mouthpiece 1 So this unbeliever may have derided Jo-
seph's claim at first. But now his comrade's good fortune,
as he perhaps accounts it, tempts and encourages him to try
his chance. He may have the luck to get as favourable a
response from the oracle ; and, at all events, it can do no
harm to make the experiment. He, too, will now tell his
dream, and abide the issue.
Alas ! it is only ominous of evil. The servant of the
Lord can speak of nothing but judgment. And if the doomed
man should still affect to be sceptical, and set coming wrath
THE SAVED AND LOST. 159
at defiance, three short days are enough to dispel his miser-
able delusion, and proi'e Joseph a true prophet, alike of
death and of deliverance. " It came to pass the third day,
which was Pharaoh's birthday, that he made a feast unto all
his servants : and he lifted up the head of the chief butler and
of the chief baker among his servants. And he restored the
chief butler to his butlership again ; and he gave the cup into
Pharaoh's hand ; but he hanged the chief baker, as Joseph
had interpreted to them" (ver.20-22).
1. Thus " one is taken and another left." For that, in the
first place, is a lesson to be learned from this prison-scene. It
is as it was in the days of Noah ; and as it shall be also in the
days of the Son of Man : " I tell you, in that night there shall
be two men in one bed ; the one shall be taken and the other
shall be left. Two women shall be grinding together ; the
one shall be taken, and the other left. Two men shall be in
the field ; the one shall be taken, and the other left" (Luke
xvii. 34-36). Even so it seems good in God's sight. Any two
of us may be together in the same prison or in the same palace,
— in the same trial or in the same triumph, — in the same
sorrow or in the same joy, — sleeping together in the same bed,
— grinding together at the same mill, — working or walking
together in the same field ; both apparently alike good, —
both destined surely to be alike safe. But how long can we
reckon on our companionship lasting? How soon and how
suddenlj^ may that sapng come true ; " One shall be taken,
the other left?" How does it concern every one of us,
in the view of that separating and sifting day, to be looking
out for himself individually. Whoever I may be with in bed,
at the mill, in the field, my being with him then will avail
me nothing. Let me give earnest heed myself to the things
which belong to my peace, before they be for ever hid from
my eyes. And let mo remember the Lord's own solemn and
emphatic warning : • Whosoever shall seek to save his life
160 THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR.
shall lose it ; and whosoever shall lose liis life shall preserve
it (Luke xvii. 33).
2. If Joseph was " set for the fall " of one and " the rising
again" of another, and "for a sign that should be spoken against
that the thoughts " — if not of many yet of some—" hearts
should be revealed" (Luke ii. 34, 35), — behold a gi^eater than
Joseph is here. Jesus is still set forth before our eyes, cruci-
fied between two malefactors. His cross draws the line
sharply between them. Both alike are sinners, breakers of the
law. Both alike are guilty, justly condemned. Both alike are
utterly helpless in their condemnation. But that central
cross discriminates between them ! It sets them, near as they
are, at infinite distance apart !
On one side is the man of broken spirit, of contrite heart,
accepting the punishment of his sin, consenting to lose his life
that he may preserve it, — to have no life of his own, that he
may owe all his life to Christ. On the other side is he who
still seeks to save his life, — who even in the jaws of inevitable
death will not give in, — who will not renounce his own poor
conceit of innocence, goodness, and security, and agree to
accept life in Christ, as the free gift of God.
On which of these sides art thou my brother ? To which
of these two crosses, on the right and on the left of Christ's
cross, art thou billing to be nailed ? Wilt thou be crucified
with Christ,— trusting in him, praymg to him, looking to him,
belie\ing his sure word, " To-day shalt thou be with me in
paradise 1 " Or wilt thou be crucified without Christ, — near
him, but yet without him, — setting him at naught, and thyself
alone braving the terror of the Lord, of which his crucifixion is
so sure and sad a presage and pledge ?
3. If Joseph said to the man whose sentence of release he
had pronounced, Think of me — and if he had some good
ground for thinking that his friend ought to thinlv of liim,
and would think of him — how much more may he who is
i^reater than Joseph, and who procures for us — not by the
THE SAVED AND LOST. 161
interpretation of a dream merely but by what costs him some-
thing more than that — a sentence of release from doom and
restoration to favour infinitely more valuable than the butler
got — how much more may he, I say, prefer such a request to
us — Kemember me. Surely it is a sad thing if our hearts
have not a better memory for Jesus than this man had for
Joseph. And yet what need of constant watchfulness and
prayer that such ingratitude may not be ours ! And what
reason to bless God have we in the fact, that so many means
and appliances are provided for helping us always to remember
him — his blessed word ever in our hands ; his gracious gospel
preached to us ; the holy sacrament of communion ; his Spirit
taking of what is his and showing it to us.
4. If it had been Joseph who had been asked to remember
his fellow-sufferer, that asking would not have been in vain.
Jesus at all events will not suffer any one of us to say to him
in vain, " Lord, remember me, now that thou art come to thy
kingdom ! " " We have not an high priest who cannot be
touched with the feeling of our infirmities."
When we appeal to him, by his remembrance of all his
own sufferings to remember us in our sufferings, the appeal
touches his heart. Eemember, Lord, thy loving-kindnesses.
Call to mind all thy dealings with the sick, the sorrowful, the
poor, in the days of thy flesh. Call to mind all thine own
trials and afflictions manifold. Kemember us. Lord ; and
show in thy remembrance of us that thou art " the same
yesterday, to-day, and for ever."
VOL. IL M
102 THE END OF HUMILIATION
LV.
THE END OF HUMILIATION AND BEGINNING OF
EXALTATION.
Genesis xli. 1-37.
'' Then spake the chief butler unto Pharaoh, saying, I do
remember my faults this day " (ver. 9). It was the day of
Pharaoh's two dreams (ver. 1-8). The chief butler's remem-
brance of his faults that day was seasonable and providential.
One would say also that his previous forgetfulness was season-
able and providential too. If his memory had been prompter
and his gratitude warmer he might have spoken too soon.
The story of the prison dreams, with their opposite interpreta-
tions, if he had told it immediately upon his escape from
punishment and restoration to favour, would probably have
been laughed to scorn by Pharaoh and his courtiers, or listened
to with indifference, as an idle fancy that had beguiled the
weary hours of captivity. It is otherwise received when, at
tlie right time, it comes naturally out.
The king is greatly alarmed ; and the alarm is evidently
from the Lord. "His spirit is troubled;" and the trouble
visits him in a tangible shape ; it takes the form of a well-
defined dream. And there is a reduplication of the dream,
for the sake of emphasis. It was in this way that the king's
mind could be most directly and most deeply impressed. For
he is, we may suppose, like his servants, susceptible and ex-
citable on the subject of night visions ; apt to give shape and
significancy in the morning to the vagaries of fancy haunting
AND BEGINNING OF EXALTATION. 163
Ilim in his nocturnal slumbers. And he has not usually found
any difficulty in getting the professed diviners or soothsayers
who frequent his court to suggest a plausible interpretation,
in accordance with his own known or suspected leanings.
For the most part, this game doubtless has been played
between him and his wise men very safely — with reference to
the trifles of the passing day — its comparatively insignificant
incidents and affairs. The monarch might regulate his em-
ployment of his hours of business and recreation — he might
settle how long he was to sit in council, what causes he was
to try, or where he was to hunt, or how he was to beguile his
vacant leisure — by what they shrewdly told him was the
meaning of " his thoughts upon his bed." But now, through
his own favourite and familiar method of attempting to pry
into God's secrets, the Spirit of God does actually reveal to
him these secrets ; and in a way fitted to move his own spirit
to its utmost depths. He seizes upon what the king and all
his court and kingdom would acknowledge to be a trustworthy
means of divine communication. He takes into his own
hands, and works for his own ends, the telegraph then and
there supposed to be in use for conveying heaven's messages
to earth. He turns it to account for the conveyance of a true
telegraphic message. And he does so in such a manner as to
authenticate unmistakeably the message, and secure for it
prompt belief.
I. The effect produced on Pharaoh's mind is such as to
show that his dreams are from the Lord, — that the Spirit of
God is dealing with his spirit through their instrumentality.
He must have had abundance of various sorts of dreams
before ; many of them strange enough. He must often there-
fore have been bewildered and perplexed, until he got some
cunning counsellor to put skilful sense, or skilful nonsense, on
the riddle. But he has never been so moved before as now.
The dreams are so clear, distinct, and precise, — and the coinci-
dence between them is so marked, — as to stamp upon them a
164 THE END OF HUMILIATION
peculiar character. They are unlike the usual tangled web
that imagination weaves for the slumbering soul, or the vdld
chimerical plots that it sometimes, with a sort of strange con-
sistency, works out to a sort of probable issue. The double
visitation, the second coming after the first ^Yiih a definite
waking interval between, is quite out of the ordinary course.
The king cannot get rid of the idea that something very
special is intended ; and in the circumstances, the idea is
natural and reasonable. He is not in the position of those
who have the written divine w^ord, or even authentic divine
tradition, to be their guide to a knowledge of God's will ; he
has, as yet, neither inspired prophet nor inspired book to be
his teacher. In the case of any who have either of these sure
depositories of divine revelation to appeal to, the giving heed
to dreamy portents and presages of good or evil is fond dotage.
But it is otherwise with this Egyptian prince. He is to be
all the better thought of for his lying open to such discoveries
and lessons as it may please heaven in any way to send. In
the j)resent instance, at all events, it is impossible not to re-
cognise a divine work in him, as well as a divine warning to
him, in his dreams, and in the trouble of his spirit which they
occasioned- The same Spirit inspires or suggests the dreams,
and opens the heart to receive them in the manner in w^hich
he would have them to be received.
II. The impression on Pharaoh's mind is deepened by the
utter helplessness of his ordinary advisers ; the magicians and
all the wise men are at fault. It is not merely that they find
this to be a case which so bafiles the usual arts of dream-
reading that they must simply give it up as an insoluble
problem, a riddle that they cannot guess the answer to. I
suppose they may have sometimes failed before in this game,
and acknowledged their failure ; — or if they alwaj^s contrived
to get up some interpretation, according to some mystic science
of divination, or skilful system of hieroglyphics, why did they
break down now ? Why not put a bold face on their ignor-
AND BEGINNING OF EXALTATION. 165
ance, as they must have known very well how to do, and try
to satisfy the king with some plausible cast of fortune-telling 1
They were not in such straits as Nebuchadnezzar's counsellors
were reduced to ; they were not asked to divine both the
dream and the interpretation of it together ; they had the
dreams given them. Were they so poor of inventioR, such
bunglers in their trade, so bankrupt in ingenuity, as not to be
able among them to get up some oracle in seeming accordance
with the dreams, that might be specious enough to amuse
their master for the passing time, — and safe enough for their
credit, whatever the passing time might in the end bring forth?
Ah ! they felt that it was not to the passing time merely that
the dreams related ; more than that ; they saw in them some-
thing altogether beyond their craft. They neither attempted
to put a meaning on the dreams, — nor to persuade the dreamer
that it was not worth his while to seek a meaning. They were
very much in the predicament of a future Pharaoh's magicians,
when they found that they could not do miracles with their en-
chantments. They were constrained to own the finger of the
Lord. Here is something wliich, with all our wisdom, we
cannot aspire to touch. Here is wisdom beyond ours ; wisdom
really di^dne. ,That there is a divine significancy in these
night visions they cannot deny, though what it is they cannot
say. They are reduced to silence. And their silence increases
Pharaoh's uneasiness ; — he longs for light from above.
III. At this stage, Joseph's name is mentioned to the
king (ver. 9-13). There comes into the royal presence one who
has a fault to confess, a debt of gratitude to discharge, and
good news to tell. Two years have passed since the memor-
able prison scene, when he and his companion had their opposite
destinations announced to them by Joseph. For two years he
has been basking in the sunshine of royal favour, all unmind-
ful, alas ! of him whom he once hailed as his deliverer, and
who was still, in spite of his pathetic petition, left to languish
unheeded in disgrace and sorrow. The perplexity at court
166 THE END OF HUMILIATION
awakens this forgetful man. His royal master's spirit is
troubled, and they who usually minister to his peace are at
fault. It is the very occasion for Joseph's interference. And
why is not Joseph here ? Why have I not introduced him to
the king's notice long ago ? For anything I can guess, if I had
remembered him, Joseph might have had already a place near
the king, entitling him to do the same office to him that he so
happily did to me. At all events the time has fully come now.
In the attitude of a penitent, — not taking credit to himself for
what he has to say to the king about Joseph, but only lament-
ing bitterly that he has not said it long before, — he comes now
to bear his late, but yet seasonable, testimony. It is the testi-
mony of a believer, — of one believing in Joseph, and in
Joseph's God, — so far at least as to own Joseph as a prophet.
It was in the name of God, — it was as one acting on behalf of
God, and by the authority and inspiration of God, — that
Joseph announced to the chief butler the message that had
relieved and refreshed his soul. It is as one who claims, and
is competent, to speak for God, that the chief butler now
introduces Joseph to the notice of Pharaoh. His frank con-
fession, his simple statement, tells upon the king. Better
than eloquence or rhetoric is such speech for Joseph ; — the
speech of a man repenting of his fault in not " thinking of "
his deliverer before, but ready now to testify of him, — to
" testify for him before kings."
IV. Upon a hasty summons, and after brief preparation,
Joseph is brought into royal presence and stands before
Pharaoh (ver. 14-16). And he stands before Pharaoh in the
same character in which he conferred in the prison with his
fellow-prisoners. He speaks as one having authority — as one
having authority to speak peace. Meek he is, and lowly in
heart. He gives himself no airs, as those were wont to do
who affected, by dint of their superior wisdom, or in virtue of
their superior sanctity, to scale heaven's heights and pry into
heaven's mysteries. But yet there is no sycophancy or hesi-
AND BEGINNING OF EXALTATION. 167
tancy about liim ;— no look or attitude as of one seeking tr)
please his great hearer, or as of one drawing his bow at a
venture. He is simply speaking as the Holy Ghost moves
him. He is declaring the counsel of God, — delivering God's
message,— announcing God's will. He is, one might almost
say, by anticipation, acting upon the Lord's injunction ; —
" When they bring you unto the synagogues, and unto magis-
trates, and powers, take ye no thought how or what thing ye shall
answer, or what ye shaU say : for the Holy Ghost shall teacli
you in the same hour what ye ought to say " (Luke xii. 11,12).
V. It would seem to be in the character which he himself
assumes, that Joseph is acknowledged by Pharaoh. The king
apparently believes what Joseph says ;— " It is not in me ; God
shall give Pharaoh an answer of peace." This may be fairly
inferred from his proceeding at once to tell his dreams (ver.
19-21), as well as from the ready acceptance which he gives
to the interpretation of them (ver. 28-32). It is as a witness
for God that Joseph speaks; and it is God who opens
Pharaoh's heart to receive the things spoken by Joseph in
that capacity. It is idle, and worse than idle, to be seeking
other explanations of this great fact. There were no predis-
posing causes ; — there was no concurrence of favourable cir-
cumstances. The dreams could not suggest their own
solution. The stated and accredited functionaries, whose
business it was to solve them, and whose training was all in
that line, adepts as they were in the trade, were struck dumb.
An Israelitish captive, who had been bought and sold for a
slave, — a convict charged but lately with a foul crime, — a
})oor, weary prisoner, scarcely out of the dungeon pit, — scarcely
rid of his felon dress, — hastily cleansed and attired that he
may make a decent appearance in the royal presence, — it is
he who is hailed as the revealer of heaven's secrets and the
arbiter of a kingdom's destiny. Upon the bare uncorroborated
testimony of one who had been in jail along with him, on the
warrant of a single instance of successful prognostication,
168 THE END OF HUMILIATION
■\vliicli might have been held to be a shrewd guess or a lucky
hit, — this youth of thirty years, setting aside all the grey-
haired sages round the throne, wields " the sword of the Spirit
which is the word of God," and by means of it, sways the rod
of empire. For Pharaoh is not disobedient, or unbelieving.
There is that in Joseph's look and voice which carries in it
the unmistakeable impress both of divine truth and of di^dne
authority ; and there is that in the plain prophecy he utters
which flashes conviction on the heart. The monarch at once
gives in. And so, as it would seem, does the whole court.
Xot a mouth is opened, not a hand is raised, against the
motion or proposal of Joseph (ver. 33-3G). On the contrary,
it is unanimously approved of ; — " The thing was good in the
eyes of Pharaoh, and in the eyes of all his servants" (ver. 37).
It is no trifling motion, no ordinary proposal. It is not
as if it were meant to regulate, by the omen of a dream, a
day's diversion or a point of courtly etiquette. It is not even
as if some question of a battle or a retreat, of peace or war,
were made to turn on what a night vision might be construed
to portend. Here the contemplated measures must stretch
over a period of twice seven years ; and not Egypt only,
through all its borders, but the whole surrounding world
must be embraced in their wide sweep. What Joseph
ventures to suggest, as the corollary or practical application of
the exposition of God's will that he has been gi™g, amounts
almost to a universal revolution. And how unhesitatingly
does he make the suggestion, — with what a tone and aspect of
command ; firm, though humble ; not even waiting to be
asked ; but going on, after he has read out God's meaning in
the dreams, to deliver in continuation and without pause his
whole message, — whether men will hear or whether they will
forbear. He is sent to speak for God ; — " he speaks as one
having authority,"
Does he foresee the issue as regards himself? Is he
already, in his OAvn mind, anticipating the king's purpose of
AND BEGINNING OF EXALTATION. 169
advancing him to the high office which he recommends to be
instituted ? Is it a secret impulse of ambition throbbing in
his bosom that prompts the recommendation, — as if he saw
now within his grasp the elevation above his brethren that
those early dreams of his had prefigured, — those dreams which
had -v\Tought him hitherto notliing but much woe 1
I cannot think so. Such an idea was most unlikely to
enter into his mind spontaneously ; nor is it at all according
to the analogy of the divine procedure in like cases that God
should have put it into his mind. Enough of inspiration was
communicated to him by the Spirit to serve the purpose of his
office as a prophet, but no more. His own future was as dark
as ever to himself, however clear he was commissioned to make
Eg}7)t's future to Egypt's king.
One can imagine Joseph's doubt as to the reception his
bold and free speech is to have. It may irritate and provoke ;
or it may move only contempt. The man is a deceiver, or he
is mad ; — this whole story about famine eating up plenty is
got up to serve a purpose. He is suborned by some parties
who have an interest in the trades likely to be affected if his
advice is followed ; or he is simply a wild schemer. Let him
not be suffered to mix with the king's counsellors. Potiphar's
house, or the prison adjoining it, is a fitter place for him.
Joseph could not have been surprised if some such murmurs
had met his ear, when, after his bold address, he stood silent
and calm in that royal and courtly presence. Even if his
reading of the dreams should be believed, and the course he
indicated should in consequence be followed, were there not
hundreds of "discreet and wise men" within call, on any one
of whom this vast responsibility might be laid 1 Who among
the many thousands in Egypt at that moment was less likely,
in the eyes of men, to sit at the king's right hand, on the
throne of absolute dominion, than the man, — " not yet fifty
years old," — who has just been undergoing a penal sentence of
suffering and shame 1
170 END OF HUMILIATION AND BEGINNING OF EXALTATION.
In the case of this, as of another exaltation, is not that
saying true 1 — " The stone which the builders refused is become
the head stone of the corner. This is the Lord's doing ; it is
marvellous in our eyes" (Ps. cxviii. 22, 23). Have Ave not
here a very pregnant and significant type of what Peter pro-
claimed to the " rulers of the people and elders of Israel,"
when he said, " Be it known unto you all, and to all the
people of Israel, that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
whom ye crucified, whom God raised from the dead, even by
him doth this man stand here before you whole. This is the
stone which was set at nought of you builders, which is be-
come the head of the corner. Neither is there salvation in
any other : for there is none other name under heaven given
among men, whereby we must be saved."
EXALTATION — HEADSHIP OVER ALL. 171
LYI.
EXALTATION— HEADSHIP OVER ALL— FOR THE
CHURCH.
Genesis xli. 37-57.
The king sent and loosed liim ; even the ruler of the people, and let him
go free. He made him lord of his house, and rnler of all his substance :
to bind his princes at his pleasure ; and teach his senators wisdom. —
Ps. cv. 20-22.
Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour.
Acts v. 31.
The elevation of Joseph in Egypt, if it is to be rightly
apprehended in its spiritual aspect and bearings, must be viewed
primarily in its relation to the chosen family. In a sense, he
is "head over all things to the church, which is his body."
For Israel's sake Joseph is preserved from death, delivered from
the lowest depths of suffering and shame, and invested with
what was then the highest power on earth, — the rod of the
strength of the Egyptian Pharaohs. The effects of his adminis-
tration, as prime minister or grand vizier, on Egypt itself and
the rest of the world, are comparatively subordinate, and one
might say, with reference to the main object of this narrative,
incidental. It may be interesting and important to trace
these, so far as the scanty materials within our reach may
enable us, with tolerable probability, to do so. But the chief
purpose of this wonderful work of God had respect to the
household of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, — the household of
faith, — to whom were committed the oracles of God, and of
172 EXALTATION HEADSHIP OVER ALL
whom, as concerning the flesh, Christ was to come. In the
light of that purpose, the whole scene is to be contemplated.
I. Pharaoh's sudden resolution, carrying as it seems to have
done, the approval and concurrence of all his counsellors and
courtiers, is utterly inexplicable, on any other supposition than
simply its being the Lord's doing (ver. 37, 38). Daniel's
advancement by Darius, Mordecai's advancement by Ahasue-
rus, Avonderful as they are, may be more easily accounted for
than this preferment of Joseph. They had, both of them, got
a certain position in the eyes of the heathen princes and
people with whom they were connected, before they were so
signally promoted. But this Joseph, who was he 1 A Hebrew
slave, alleged to have betrayed a kind master's confidence and
sought to injure him in the tenderest point ; — a poor prisoner,
friendless and forsaken, — who has just hastily exchanged his
sordid jail costume for a somewhat more decent attire. Is he
to be raised over the heads of all the wise and noble of the
land, and set on a pinnacle of advancement to which none of
them could ever have dreamt of aspiring ?
Tlie freaks and whims of oriental despotism are indeed
endless, and many strange stories are told about them. But
even Ai'abian imagination, in its wildest and most capricious
flights, has given us scarcely anything so romantic as this
abrupt transition in the case of Joseph, from the dungeon to
the throne — from a criminal's doom to a royal favourite's re-
nown and glory.
And yet it does not read like romance. The whole thing
is told so simply, — the account is so naturally given, — the
entire narrative is so plain, so homely, so unostentatious, that
no mind or heart, open to the fair impression of what is
genuine and artless, can fail to see in it and feel in it the
stamp of truth. It is not gorgeous and fantastic fiction,
but the most simple and unsophisticated telling of a true tale.
It is no got-up fable, but a real, old-world, matter-of-fact story ;
having a life-like air about it not to be mistaken. The king
FOR THE CHURCH. 173
speaks and acts with calm dignity and good sense, and with
thorough self-possession. His appeal to his servants is ra-
tional and sober. And the entire affair is carried through
with such a measure of serious thought as well as prompt
decision, as to indicate that not any rash impulse, but a deep
and settled conviction, is the source and regulating principle of
Pharaoh's purpose and proceedings all throughout.
Surely there is evidence in all this of what is done being
done in faitL And it must have been, one would say, con-
sidering all the circumstances, faith having a divine origin as
well as a divine warrant ; faith in God's word, Avrought by
God's Spirit ; like that faith through which, by grace, we are
saved, — it must have been " the gift of God " (Eph. ii. 8).
II. The manner of Joseph's investiture with the insignia
of office is worthy of notice.
(1.) He is thoroughly acquitted and justified, — declared to
be free from aU blame, and justly entitled to favour (ver. 39).
No doubt Pharaoh's commendation of him turns chiefly on his
discernment and intelligence, — on his discretion and wisdom ;
but it must be held to cover his whole character. It recog-
nises his standing as righteous and worthy. All stain of the
criminality that had been imputed to him is gone. He has
suffered enough on that account, and is now free. He in
whom the Spirit of God so manifestly is, — he to whom God
has showed such things, — may for a time be under a cloud ;
bearing a load of guilt not his own. But he cannot be long
held in humihation. The divine insight and foresight, which,
even in his humiliation, he manifests, as regards the plans and
purposes of God, — especially in their bearing upon others
whose safety and welfare may be mixed up with his own
destiny, — must soon issue in his being advanced, for their
sakes and on their account, if not even by their instrument-
ality, to the position in which he can do them good. And
the first step would seem to be his personal vindication, — his
being acknowledged as one in whom no fault is found, and
174 EXALTATION HEADSHIP OVER ALL
exalted as one of whom it may be said, in a sense, that in
him " are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge "
(Col. ii. 3).
(2.) He is addressed in terms inviting him to highest
pre-eminence (ver. 40.) " Sit thou on my right hand," is
virtually the word, — sit beside me and preside over all my
realm. His place is still, of course, to be subordinate ; he
wields a delegated authority. But save his own seat on the
throne, there is nothing which this great king reserves to
himself, or exempts from the command that he is giving to
the mediatorial prince whom he is setting up. All things in
Egypt are put under Joseph ; as it is testified of one greater
than Joseph that God " hath put all things under his feet."
And the single reservation is, in both instances virtually the
same. When the Father says of his son Jesus, all things are
put under him, " it is manifest that he is excepted which did
put all things under him " (1 Cor. xv. 27). AVlien Pharaoh
exalts Joseph to be over all his house, and all his people, he
puts in what is in substance the same caveat : " Only in the
throne will I be greater than thou."
(3.) He is proclaimed as one before whom all are to bow
the knee, — having visible honour put upon him, and even a
new name given to him, for this very end, that bel'ore him
every knee may bow (ver. 41-45). The ring, the vestures of
fine linen, the gold chain about his neck, appear conspicu
ously as badges of the favour he has, and the power he
wields, when he " rides forth prosperously in his majesty."
The name which he receives, and which was doubtless pro-
claimed before him, — Eevealer of secrets, or as some say.
Saviour of the world, — announces his merit. It is fitting
that before such a chariot, and at such a name, every knee
should bow. It is the chariot of grace ; — it is the name of
salvation.
(4.) He is to be knovTi as having his home in high
places ; — in the high places into which his deep humiliation,
FOR THE CHURCH. 175
followed by his wondrous elevation, introduces him. He is
to be seen familiarly established and happily domesticated
there ; receiving a noble spouse (ver. 45).
Pharaoh's arrangement of this marriage for his favourite
Prime Minister is according to the common usage of Eastern
courts. It is meant to confirm Joseph's allegiance, and be a
pledge of his fidelity ;— while at the same time it encourages
his loyal zeal, and adds weight to his delegated authority.
On that footing Joseph accepts the proposal. Nor can his
acceptance of it be criticised or judged according to the
ordinary rules applicable to the children of Abraham, which
were undoubtedly meant to tell against all matrimonial
alliances with the heathen. The position of Joseph is mani-
festly peculiar. If he is to have a home at all, he has no
choice as to whom he may have to share it with him.
It is well, moreover, that Joseph should thus unequivo-
cally assume the princely rank which his espousing, by the
king's command, the daughter of one who was a priest, or a
prince, or both, secured to him. He is in that way mani-
fested as no intruder in the palaces and lordly halls of Egypt,
but worthy and entitled to have his dwelling-place among
them. He is manifested, moreover, as not merely a son of
Israel, but a brother of Egyjjt ;— fitly, therefore, set forth in
his high estate as appointed to save both Jew and Gentile ;
being now personally allied to both.
Thus inaugurated in his high office, " Joseph went out
over all the land of Egypt" (ver. 45). His humiliation is all
over while he is yet comparatively young — certainly not more
than "thirty years old " (ver. 46). It is cut short,— shall we
say,— in mercy, before his heavy sufferings have exhausted
his frame. And now he is to have length of days in his
exaltation ; honour and majesty are laid upon him ; all
power is given to him (ver. 46). It is given by delegation
doubtless, but it is by absolute delegation. He rules
supreme ; not as one who reports cases and causes to the
176 EXALTATION — HEADSHIP OVER ALL
king, and is the mere executioner of the king's decree ; but
jis one who has authority himself. So he goes out from the
presence of Pharaoh ; virtually Pharaoh has said, " I have set
my king upon my hill," when he says, " Thou shalt be over
my house, — according to thy word shall all my people be
ruled." And a name is given him above every other name
then known in all the world ; the name of Eevealer or
Saviour. And before him " every knee is to bow." He
rides forth gloriously in chariot of state ; — declared now, by
no doubtful sign, to be no stranger, but the highest of
Egypt's own princely sons ; without whom " not a hand or
foot is to be lifted in all the land." So this Joseph now
reigns, set far above ordinary " principalities and powers."
III. Joseph is exalted for a special purpose, — and to the
accomplishment of that purpose he makes all his power
subservient (ver. 47-49). His rule is a rule of far-seeing
providence ; he rules, in a sense, as seeing the end from the
beginning. Coming evil is anticipated and provided for.
The rich and precious abundance of the early years of his
reign is not suffered to be lost or wasted. It is stored for
future use, — when in a season of want and destitution it may
be available, if not for the full relief, at least for the partial
alleviation of the distress. The government is upon the
shoulders of one who will lay up, as in a storehouse, the
fruits of the large outpouring of heaven's blessing that is to
characterise the beginning of the dispensation over which he
has to preside and watch, — so that in the worst of times that
may be at hand, some food may still be forthcoming. Granaries
are filled for evil days.
lY. Before these evil days come, two names of good omen
have become " household words" to aU who watch the signs
of the times, and the ways of him who, ha\dng been exalted
to be a prince and a saviour, is himself a sign, and does nothing
without a meaning (ver. 50-52). The glad father welcomes
the children whom God gives him, — in whom he sees the
FOR THE CHURCH. 177
pledges of toil and travail over and fruitfulness to come, —
of labour and sorrow now to be forgotten and a j^rosperous
issue of it all before him. He sees his seed and is satisfied.
And what satisfies him may satisfy all who can sympathise
with him. Whatever may be coming on the land and on the
world ; however the heavens may be as brass, and the earth
as iron, and the river of Egypt may be dry, and there may be
a great cry for bread, and much perishing for lack of it ; still
he is at the helm, he is at the head of all, — who, in the full
knowledge of all that may be impending, can yet give forth
cheerful tokens for the upholding of men's hearts ; naming
one son Manasseh, or " miserable toil forgotten ;" and the other
Epliraim, or " God makes fruitful."
y. And now the e\"il days are near ; " The seven years of
dearth began to come, according as Joseph had said : and the
dearth was in all lands" (ver. 53, 54). It is a growing distress.
At first, while dearth is in all the surrounding countries, Egypt
is an exception ; " there is bread in Egypt." Soon, however,
Egypt also sufi*ers (ver. 55). " All the land of Egypt is
famished ; " and there is a universal cry for bread. The
famine is over all the face of the earth. " It waxes sore even
in the land of Egypt," in spite of the opening of all the store-
houses ; it is sore in all lands (ver. 57). One only comfort
there is, — one only hope for Egypt and all lands, Joseph is
exalted ; Joseph is in authority. The residue of whatever
supply may be available is with him. He has in his hands
the keys. He has received all power to amass around himself,
and dispense at his pleasure, the whole staple and staff of life.
Pharaoh sends all suitors and suppliants to him, " Go unto
Joseph ; what he saith to you, do" (ver. 55). Joseph opens all
the storehouses and sells to the Egyptians (ver. 56). "All
countries come into Egypt to Joseph for to buy corn" (ver. 57).
A perishing world hangs on this great fact, that Joseph reigns.
Thus far, Joseph's rise from obscure and unjust oppression
VOL. II. N
178 EXALTATION HEADSHIP OVER ALL — FOR THE CHURCH.
to the highest 2)lace which any one could hold by delegation
in the world of that day, is a personal triumph to himself
and a public benefit to Egypt and to the nations generally.
The exact and full bearing of his promotion on Israel, as the
church and people of God, is to be unfolded immediately.
But at this stage, we see him simply as one recei\ing the due
acknowledgment and reward of his thoroughly tried righteous-
ness, and receiving it, not for his own gratification, but for
the general good. Personally, he is now fully vindicated and
righted, while the meaning of his previous shame and sorrow is
made plain. He is himself, in a sense, " made perfect through
suffering." He has undergone a discipline of obedience and
patience, such as admirably prepares his gracious spirit for the
high office which he is to fill, and the momentous functions he
is to discharge. It may not perhaps be easy to trace a very
close connection, either of merit or of natural consequence,
between the precise nature of his sufferings in his humiliation
and the kind of recompense awarded to him in his elevation.
It may not be safe to give the reins too freely to fancy, as it
might be tempted to run wild in the domain of typical analogies.
But surely there is a meaning in the circumstance of Joseph's
lowly and afflicted experience having in it something of the
nature of vicariousness, — inasmuch as no sin of his own brought
it upon liim, — and inasmuch also as he suffered for the fault
of others, and suffered, to some extent, for the benefit of
others. And at all events, in the high estate to which he
is now promoted, — very much through that lowly and afflicted
experience as the cause or the occasion, — this feature is con-
spicuously seen. It is not for himself that he receives honour
and reigns supreme. He acts for others ; he benefits the world.
He uses his power for the relie\ing of want and woe, — for the
dispensing of that bread by which man ordinarily lives.
Worthily and fitly does he represent him who, being raised
up on high, receives gifts for men ; — in Avhom it pleases
the Father that all fulness should dwell ; — and out of whose
fulness all may receive.
CON\"ICTION OF SIN. 179
LVII.
CONVICTION OF SIN— YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT.
Genesis xlii. 1-24.
Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour,
for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins. — Acts v. 31.
Joseph in his elevation, like Jesus in his exaltation, is in the
first instance a light to lighten the Gentiles. He has been
rejected by the house of Israel. The gifts which, when he is
raised on high, he has to dispense, come first therefore upon
the Gentiles. But it soon appears that he is to be the glory
also of God's people Israel. He is come to the kingdom for
this end, that Israel may be saved.
The chosen family in Canaan, visited by the famine, are in
sore straits, " looking," as Jacob plaintively expresses it, look-
ing helplessly " one upon another." They hear of corn in
Egypt, and of embassies going thither from all the surrounding
countries to obtain, if possible, a share. For themselves, they
may have tried to put off" the evil day, and to husband their
resources ; aff'ecting a self-sufficient independence, while their
neighbours have been fain to bend the knee to this new ruler
in Egypt, who holds, as it would seem, the destinies of the
world in his power. But it will not do. These proud sons of
Jacob must give in at last, and, like others, bow as suppliants
before this prince, in whose hands alone fulness dwells. They
are in want, — themselves and their little ones like to perish.
Their father's voice, too often unheeded in their prosperity, is
now heard in their distress : " Behold I have heard that there
180 CONVICTION or SIN.
is corn in Egypt : get you down thither, and buy for us from
thence ; that we may live, and not die " (ver. 1, 2). They
prepare, accordingly, to set out for Egypt,
All of them 1 All the eleven 1 No ! Twenty years have
not sufficed to efface from the old man's memory the heavy
loss he sustained when he had to weep for Joseph. Never,
perhaps, has his mind been altogether reconciled to the story
which the brothers told. Some suspicion of foul play on their
part having had something to do with Joseph's strange disap-
pearance continues to haunt him painfully. At all events he
v/ill not risk Benjamin in their company ; — Josejoh's young
brother, the sole remaining pledge of poor Eachel's love, Jacob
will keep at home ; — so " Joseph's ten brethren went down to
buy corn in Egypt. But Benjamin, Joseph's brother, Jacob
sent not with his brethren ; for he said. Lest peradventure
miscliief befall him " (ver. 3, 4).
Along with many similar cavalcades or caravans, the men
of Israel, with their attendants, reach Egypt, and have an
audience of the governor: "Joseph's brethren came, and bowed
down themselves before him with their faces to the earth.
And Joseph saw his brethren, and he knew them, but made
himself strange unto them, and spake roughly unto them "
(ver. 5-7).
Now here let us once for all fix it in our minds that Joseph
had a part to play, — and he must needs play it out, and play it
out correctly and consistently. He has to enact and sustain
the character of an Egyptian nobleman or prince — the Egyptian
king's prime minister or vizier. It is idle and frivolous to be
raising minute questions, and discussing captious criticisms,
al)Out some petty details of his conduct and demeanour in that
character ; — as about his using the current off-hand formula of
asseveration (ver. 1 6) ; — or about his giving himself, on a sub-
sequent occasion (xliv. 15), in a half-serious, half-light sort of
w^ay, the air and manner of an Eastern sage or soothsayer, —
familiar with magic arts. Once admit that Joseph has for a
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 181
little while to keep up his disguise, to personate Pharaoh's
viceroy, without letting his home-yearnings betray him — and
all the rest follows as a matter of course. If the personification
is to be probable and complete, he must of necessity speak
and act " according to the card," or trick. The only point of
difficulty really is the question that may be raised as to the
propriety of his thus acting a part at all.
It will scarcely do to maintain the abstract and absolute
unlawfulness of such a procedure, — to say that it is positively
and in all circumstances wrong. Jesus himself on one occasion,
in liis interview with the Syrophenician woman, assumed the
lordly port of a pharisee, — and doubtless looked the pharisee
thoroughly well, when he used the pharisee's characteristic and
contemptuous language about giving the children's meat to
" dogs." And again, when on the resurrection morn, he was
walking with the disciples, and they stopped in the village, he
" made as if he would have gone farther." So when Joseph
made himself strange to his brethren, at first, — and continued
thereafter for a considerable time, and during several inter-
views, to make himself strange, — it is not necessarily involved
in his doing so, that his temporary concealment, or stratagem,
if you will, — was unjustifiable. It may have been so, — it may
have been a mistake, — a fault, — a sin. If it was a measure
adopted merely at his own hand, it was probably all that ; —
in which case, we must be content -with explaining how Joseph
might have reasons of his own for acting as he did. For,
without altogether vindicating him, we might hold him partly
excused by his remembrance of former injury, and by the
necessity, as he might suppose, of observing great precaution
now, and testing his brethren rather sharply. And we might
on that theory trace the manner in which the Lord overruled
Joseph's scarcely warrantable policy for good to all the parties
concerned.
I cannot, however, I confess, bring myself to believe that
Joseph was left to himself in this matter ; I feel persuaded
182 CONVICTION OF SIN.
that we must regard him as all along acting by inspiration.
He surely has some intimation of the mind and will of God to
guide him. He has been honoured already, more than once,
as a prophet of the Lord. He has plainly spoken and acted
by inspiration as a prophet, first, in his dealings mth his fellow-
prisoners, and thereafter in his delivery of his message to
Pharaoh, and his assumption, at Pharaoh's call, of the high
post to which, on the faith of his message being authentic, he
is raised. Surely now, at this crisis of his exercise of autho-
rity— when the very exigency for which he has come to his
all but kingly power has arrived, — in the matter of his treat-
ment of the family for whose preservation he is where he is, —
Joseph is not left to his own unaided discretion. He is a
prophet still as well as a prince. He has di\dne warrant for
what he does.
Something of that sort, I think, may be intended to be
intimated, when it is said (ver. 9), that he " remembered the
dreams which he dreamed." It was the Lord that l^rought
them to his remembrance, and Joseph, I am persuaded, recog-
nised the Lord in this. At once he perceives that this affair
of his brethren coming to him is of the Lord. It is not a
common occurrence ; it is not mere casual coincidence. The
Lord is here, — in this j^lace and in this business • and there-
fore the Lord must regulate the whole, and fix the time and
manner of discover}'. If he had been left to himself, Joseph
would not have hesitated a moment ; his is not a cold or
crafty temperament ; he is no manoeuvrer ; he would have had
all over within the first few minutes. But the Lord restrains
him. He is, I cannot doubt, consciously in the Lord's hand, —
doing violence to his own nature to serve the Lord's purposes.
And much of the interest and pathos of these scenes will be
found to lie in the strong working of that nature under the
control and guidance of the Lord.
1. Do we not see the inward struggle in the very first
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 183
reception of his brothers by Joseph ? (ver. 7), Not only did he
"make himself strange" to them; in order that he might do
so more effectually, " he spake roughly unto them ; " asking
vehemently the abrupt and almost rude question : " Whence
came ye 1" Surely that was not his way of receiving strangers
generally when they came from other countries to buy corn ;
his ordinary manner could not be so uncourteous. In the
king's place, he was liimself "every inch a king;" filling the
seat of power, and wielding its sceptre with graceful dignity
and condescension. But when he saw his brethren he knew
them ; his heart yearned towards them, and the early home,
and the fond father, of whom they put him in mind. It costs
him an effort to keep silence. But something seals his lips ;
the time is not yet come. He must keep down therefore the
rising tide of feeling. And so, — as is not uncommon in such
a case, — he hides, under a gruff exterior, the deep inward
movement of his heart.
2. As the interview proceeds, the struggle in Joseph's
bosom grows more intense (ver. 8, 9). The simple reply of his
brothers to his question, " AVlience come ye?" — "From the
land of Canaan to bay food" (ver. 7), is a touching appeal to
him. From any little company of strangers visiting Egypt at
that terrible crisis, such a plain answer must have had a certain
pathetic power. Whence come ye ] From our fatherland to
buy food ! As uttered by the sons of Israel, it causes a sad
picture of family distress to rise before Joseph's view. He
remembers the old dreams of his childhood that had caused
so much heartburning, and produced, as it seemed, so much
wickedness and misery. Fain would he explain to them even
now, as he did explain to them afterwards, how these dreams
were receiving a fulfilment equally for the good of all, and how
they need not therefore any longer occasion jealousy or estrange-
ment. Fain would he point to God's overruling providence as
superseding all past misunderstandings, and opening the way
for them all, as brethren, to dwell together in unity. But
184 CONVICTION OF SIN.
there must be reserve still for a little. Natural affection must
be held, as it were, in abeyance, and its working must be
violently repressed. Is it to overcome, as by a sort of reac-
tion, this growing home-feeling which threatens to unman him,
that Joseph, as Egypt's governor, puts on an air of still
increasing severity "? He has a part to play ; he must brave it
out. And so he does, with vehemence enough, when he so
abruptly accuses them : — " Ye are spies ; to see the nakedness
of the land ye are come" (ver. 9).
3. Their next explanation and remonstrance, so meek and
humble, must have still farther moved Joseph's bowels of
relenting pity ; " Nay, my lord, but to buy food are thy ser-
vants come. We are all one man's sons ; we are true men,
thy servants are no spies" (ver. 10, 11). How are these
brethren changed! Where now is all their proud contempt
and bitter wrath : " Behold this dreamer cometh, away with
him ]" How crest-fallen are they ! Even the charge of being
spies elicits not a spark of the old fire of passion ; nor have
they the heart to meet it with any strong or emphatic indig-
nation. Their disclaimer is sufficiently dejected, — for they are
poor and needy. Is it a gratification to Joseph to see them
brought so low ? Nay, it cuts him to the heart. That these
men, the men who used to envy him, and to lord it so cruelly
over him, are now so abased at his feet — prostrate before the
brother they would have slain — it is a sight he can scarcely
stand ! And then, when in answer to his still more \dolent
demeanour, assumed to cover his still growing weakness ; " Nay,
but to see the nakedness of the land ye are come" (ver. 12, —
they enter mth such simplicity into that sad family story of which
he himself formed so great a part ; " Thy servants are twelve
brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Canaan ; and,
behold, the youngest is this day with our father, and one is
not" (ver. 13) — one can imagine the force which Joseph puts
upon himself when, as if gi™g way to a transport of blind
suspicious fury that will listen to neither reasoning nor remon-
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 185
strance, — in the truest style of oriental and despotic passion, —
he breaks out into the language of unmeasured reproach and
threatening (ver. 14-16).
4. Such a storm of wordy rage was quite in character, —
especially when followed, as it was, by a corresponding deed,
— the actual consignment of these unoffending men to prison
(ver. 1 7). Strange as the scene would seem to us, if we could
fancy it enacted by a judge, or any one in authority among us,
it would excite little surprise among the counsellors and
courtiers of Egypt. All the less, because Joseph was a stranger
from another country: and they might therefore give him
credit for knowing more than they could know about what
sort of people were likely to come from the region to which
he had himself belonged. He therefore might detect signs
of false dealing not apparent to others in these ten weary
travellers who professed to have come on so harmless an errand,
and to tell so plaintive a story. He might be aware of cir-
cumstances connected with the foreign parts whence they had
journeyed, fitted to cause just apprehension of some underhand
design, however plausible their tale. And then, short as their
sojourn had been in Egypt, for a day or two only, while they
waited for an audience of the vizier, the brothers had probably
kept themselves apart. They had not accommodated them-
selves to the Egyptian usages, either social or religious;
having evidently strange ways and a strange worship of their
own. To hear the new prime minister, who, as they recol-
lected, was himself a native of the land of Canaan (ver. 7), —
or the land of the Hebrews (xl. 15; xli. 12), — denouncing
these, his seeming fellow-countrymen, as false spies, would
probably be rather welcome than otherwise to the lords of
Egypt. And the spectacle was an edifying one of this Hebrew
prime minister, showing so forcibly how the zeal of his master's
house had eaten him up ; — how concern for Pharaoh's safety
and the security of his kingdom, had so completely got the
better of all other considerations as actually to make him for-
186 CONVICTION OF SIX.
get the proper limits of magisterial decorum, and lose his
temper upon the very throne itself, in his eagerness to detect
and denounce this Hebrew or Canaanite treachery, lurking
under the mask of a pitiful cry for bread.
5. Joseph's policy is successful, — his acting is perfect.
The terms he proposes to these suspected spies, are such as
befit the furious mood which it suits him to aftect. Let one
of your number fetch that youngest brother you speak of so
pathetically, — and thus verify, at least in part, your not very
probable account of yourselves. For it needs verification. If
the state of the household you belong to is such as you describe
it, why should that old father of yours have risked so many of
you on this embassy 1 Or if he was willing to risk so man}^,
why not one more 1 And what is this about another being
amissing — another of this suspicious round dozen of sons?
Let us have proof, at all events, that you are telling the truth
about the twelfth, if you cannot account for the eleventh.
Let a messenger go and bring him. Send one of your num-
ber on that errand and let the other nine stay here in prison
and await his return ; the governor will be responsible for
their safe custody ; and the term of their confinement need
not be long.
But grievously as these men were abased, they were not
brought quite so low as to be willing at once to acquiesce in
so cruel an arrangement as this ; for so it must have appeared
to them, whatever Joseph might mean by it. They felt, for
themselves, how oppressive and unjust it was. They felt, for
their father, what a blow it must be to him. They might
well therefore hesitate, and rather suffer themselves to be all
inprisoned together than agree to the seeming tyrant's intoler-
able terms. So they lie in ward three days.
6. On the third day Joseph sees them again (ver. 18), and
resumes his intercourse with them. Is it another public audi-
ence that is meant here, or a private visit paid to them in
prison? Are they brought again before the governor for
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 187
another hearing, and for the final decision of their cause 1 Or
does the governor, in a less official capacity, condescend to
have a conference with them in their confinement 1 This last
is the more probable view, though the point is not very clear
— nor indeed very material. Joseph cannot bear to have his
brothers left long to languish in the suspense and gloom of
the dreary captivity to which he has himself consigned them.
He must have further dealing with them. And it is quite
in accordance with Eastern manners, that he should seek
to have such farther dealing with them, in a more easy and
familiar way than the etiquette of state formality allowed.
He has a modified proposal to submit to them ; and, in
submitting it, he has an avowal to make on his own part,
which must have not a little surprised them. " This do and
live ; for I fear God " (ver. 18); I am of the same faith with
you. Though governor in Egypt, I am no worshipper of
Egypt's idols ; I know and acknowledge the true God, as I see
that you also do. And therefore I relax my otherwise inex-
orable conditions in your favour. I am almost inclined to
believe that, after all, you may be true men ; and I am disposed
to treat you accordingly. I cannot indeed altogether dispense
wdth proof ; I must, in consistency, recjuire of you the evidence
I have already publicly committed myself to ask — the bring-
ing of your youngest brother hither. But let it be done in
the easiest manner (ver. 19, 20). The distress at your home
need not be unrelieved ; the father's anxiety need not be pro-
longed or aggravated. I must still insist on one of you
remaining as a hostage ; — but the rest may go and carry corn
for the famine of your house.
Joseph is all but betrayed. He fears God as they do ;
and for the common fear they have, he and they, of the true
God, he relents in his harsh treatment of them. He speaks
to them with comparative kindness. Fain would he embrace
them, and kneel with them, as in the olden time, when they
all used to join together in the unbroken family circle, as their
188 • CONVICTION OF SIN.
father led the worsliip of the one living and true God, in the
midst of abounding idolatry. "I fear God" as ye do, and
cannot suffer you to perish : " Ye shall not die." He is on the
point of breaking down and discovering himself. If he would
keep up his assumed state and air of authority, he has need
to retire apart, and be alone.
7. As he stands aside, his brethren are left in strange
bewilderment and dismay. They have agreed generally to
the governor's modified proposition ; for that would seem to
be implied in its being said, "and they did so" (ver. 20).
But they have to fix among themselves who shall be the one
to remain bound. The governor withdraws, and lets them
deliberate and decide at their discretion. It is a cruel ques-
tion of debate. Evil as they have shown themselves in too
many respects to be, these men are still brothers ; and in the
extremity in which they now are, their brotherly affection is
stirred to its utmost depths, A terrible decimation is de-
manded of them ; one of the ten must run the risk of almost
hopeless imprisonment, if not even of a worse fate, in the
hands of this arbitrary Egyptian ruler. Which of them is to
volunteer 1 Or shall they cast lots 1 Or commit the issue to
the blind hazard of the dice ? They gaze on one another.
Blank consternation is upon every countenance. Who dare
make a proposal 1 Who dare suggest a name 1 It is a time
for conscience to work. The scourges which their vices have
made for them begin, at that dark hour, to lash and sting
them. Indi\ddually and separately, they have black sins
enough to play the part of scorpions. Reuben has his foul
outrage on his father's bed ; Judah has his wretched incest ;
Simeon and Levi have their horrid revenge on Shechem ; —
each of the ten has his own several offence rising like a ghost,
to shake his nerves in this stern trial. But there is one spectre
common to them all, — one deed of darkness to which they all
are privy, and of which none else has knowledge : " They said
one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother,
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 189
in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us,
and we would not hear ; therefore is this distress come upon
us" (ver. 21).
As with one accord, they recall the scene at Dothan.
Strange and startling coincidence! Their innocent young
brother, the good and tender child, struggling in their hands,
uttering his feeble, plaintive, wailing cry for mercy, — calling
on the father who so loved him, — alas ! how far off in his
utmost need, — lifting his clasped hands and streaming eyes to
them in vain ; — the whole villany they yet, in spite of all that,
had the heart to perpetrate, is fresh before them. Their
common sorrow recalls their common sin. It (is a righteous
judgment that has come upon them for their fratricidal guilt.
This man's pitilessness to us requites our pitilessness to our
brother. The ruler now will not hear us, as we would not hear
the boy then. God, — the God whom this extraordinary man
says he fears as well as we, — God is just. He has raised him up,
and given him power over us, to avenge the cause of Joseph.
Is it, can it be, that some strange dreamy resemblance
between this dark-browed Egyptian vizier and the fair face of
that little child, has been haunting these men, as he has been
talking with them ? Is it nature's mysterious spell working in
them a sort of half-recognition of the brother whom they so
remorselessly made away with 1 Is there a dim foreshadowing
of what is to be realised fully by-and-by, when they are to see
face to face their acknowledged \dctim, a^nd literally, one would
almost say, look on him whom they have pierced ? It may be
so. At any rate, their sin is terribly finding them out : nor
have they a word to say to excuse or comfort one another.
Joseph would fain interfere, if he could, to pour soothing
balm into their wounded spirits, as he afterwards delighted to
do. But that may not yet be. He is compelled to listen in
silence to their keen and bitter self-upbraidings. His time for
speaking a word in season to their weary souls, — their time
for receiving it aright, — is not yet come. The only one in
190 CONVICTION OF SIN.
that gloomy company who ventures to open his mouth, does
but add, however unintentionally, vinegar and gall to the
smarting wound : " Reuben answered them, saying, Spake I
not unto you, sapng. Do not sin against the child? and ye
Avould not hear ; therefore, behold, also his blood is required "
(ver. 22).
I cannot think that Reuben says this in the mere spirit
of self-justification. It is not as exulting in his superiority
over them, — for he is really sharing their punishment, as by
his silence heretofore he has become an accomplice in their
crime, — it is not as claiming for himself any peculiar immunity
or exemption, but as circumstantially aggravating and en-
hancing the common guilt, — that Reuben urges home the
deliberation with which the deed was done. It was no
sudden unpulse, he reminds himself and them. \Ye talked
the matter over. I remonstrated ; — would that I had done so
more decidedly ! You went on against warning and entreaty
to consummate the wickedness. It was a black business for
you, for all of us. Therefore is this distress come upon us.
His blood is required at our liands.
8. Joseph can hold out no longer ; he must cut short this
distressing scene. He understands all that they say, as
having Avithdrawn a little aside, he overhears it all. They
are not aware of this ; — for, as a matter of course, his con-
versation with them, in order to the keeping up of his
character, is carried on through an interpreter (ver. 23).
But not a syllable of that sad, conscience-stricken, communing
of theirs escapes his ear ; not a syllable of it fails to reach his
heart. He is compelled to exercise patience, self-denial, and
self-restraint. It is a sort of self-crucifixion for him to be
obliged to stand by and Avitness such anguish. A word from
him would assuage it ; but that word he may not utter. He
must needs be obedient to the unseen influence under which
his prophetic soul is acting. It is obedience that costs him, if
not " strong crying," yet '' tears : " " He turned himself about
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 101
from tliem and wept " (ver. 24). And then, to end the
miserable suspense, and bring this most painful negotiation to
a close ; — since they "will not, or cannot, settle among them-
selves, which of them is to remain as a prisoner and hostage ;
— Joseph, " returning to them again, and communing with
them," summarily cuts the knot himself by another rough act
of authority. Passing by Reuben, whom, in the circumstances,
he could not find it in his heart to punish, he lays his hand on
the next in order of age, Simeon. " Binding him before their
eyes," he bids the rest depart homeward, as best they may, in
safety and in peace (ver. 24).
The liberal provision which Joseph caused his servants to
make for these departing strangers, — the purchase-money of
the corn being returned along with the corn, in every man's
sack (ver. 25, 26) ; the surprise occasioned by the discovery of
this circumstance in one instance on the journey (ver. 27) ;
and the alarm felt, when on their arrival at home it was
found to be the same with all (ver. 35) ; — these particulars, —
as well as Jacob's bitter grief on hearing of the governor's
detention of Shneon and demand for Benjamin (ver. 36) ;■ —
may properly fall to be considered, so far as it is necessary to
dwell on them, in connection ^vith the second visit of the
patriarchs to Egypt.
Meanwhile, this first visit is instructive. It furnishes a
lesson, or more than one, as to the special providence of God,
and the working of conscience in men. In particular, it
exhibits Joseph in his exaltation, set for the trial of men's
hearts, — to prove and humble as well as to relieve and save.
For it is not by a sovereign and summary exercise of authority
or power, — that he is to eff'ect the purpose for which he is
raised on high, and to deliver and bless his brethren. It is
through a process of conviction that he is to bring to them
salvation. He is as one who hides himself until he has
broken the hard heart, and wrought in them something of
192 CONVICTION OF SIN.
that " godly sorrow which worketh repentance unto salvation,
not to be repented of" (2 Cor. vii. 10).
In this respect he fitly represents a greater than himself,
one raised to a higher glory, for a wider purpose of grace.
Jesus is " exalted, a prince and a Saviour, to give repentance
unto Israel, and the remission of sins;" — not the remission of
sins only — but repentance and the remission of sins together.
Joseph could have no difficulty about giving his brothers
remission of sins ; he has forgiven them long ago in his heart,
and right gladly would he assure them of that at once. But,
acting under divine guidance, he must so deal with them as
to force upon them a deep and salutary exercise of soul, which
in the end is to be blessed for their more complete peace, —
their more thorough unity and prosperity, — in the day when
the full joy of reconciliation is to be experienced.
I know not, brother, how it may be the purpose of our
Joseph, who is Jesus, to deal with thine inquiring and anxious
soul ; he is sovereign in dispensing liis gifts of pardon and
peace, assurance and joy. It may be his gracious pleasure
that thou shouldest have them now, — or for anything I can
tell, not till by-and-by. In either case, thou art called to
deep and salutary exercises of penitential sorrow. If instant
relief for thy burdened conscience is granted, and he whom
thou hast pierced utters at once the words, " Be of good cheer,
it is I, thy sins be forgiven thee ;" — ^vith what a flood of tears
shouldest thou be graciously mourning for these very forgiven
sins ! And if it should be otherwise with thee, — if it should
seem as if this assured forgiveness were long of coming, and
the prince, the Saviour, were long of showing himself, — surely
thou canst not pretend that thou hast any right to complain.
Thou canst no more take it amiss than Joseph's brothers
could, that thou shouldest have bitter days and nights to spend
in thinking over all thy heinous guilt. Only make conscience
of thinking over it with broken spirit and contrite heart ; —
not murmuring, not rebelling, not even feeling it to be hard,
YOUR SIN SHALL FIND YOU OUT. 193
l)ut accepting the punishment of thy sins ; — and hold on, not
despairing, but hoping against hope, — waiting on the Lord.
For in the end it "vvill be no mattter of regret to thee that
thou hast been led to lay the foundation of thy faith very
deep. The joy of morning will be all the sweeter for the weep-
ing that has endured for a night. Let us therefore exhort one
another to penitence and patience, in the spirit of the prophet's
call : " Come, and let us return unto the Lord : for he hath
torn, and he will heal us ; he hath smitten, and he will bind
us up. After two days will he re\dve us ; in the third day he
Avill raise us up, and we shall live in his sight. Then shall we
know, if we follow on to know the Lord : his going forth is
prepared as the morning : and he shall come unto us as the
rain, as the latter and former rain unto the earth " (Hosea vi.
1-3).
VOL. II.
194 THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH.
LVIII.
THE TRIAL AND TRIU:\IPH OF FAITH.
Gexesis xlii. 25 ; xliii. 14.
'Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, 0 Israel, My way is hid
from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my God ? —
Isaiah xI. 27.
He giveth power to the faint : and to them that have no might he in-
creaseth strength. — Isaiah xl. 29,
The issue of the first visit of Israel's sons to Eg}^)t is of a
doiil)tful complexion. They get the corn they need ; but they
leave one of their number in prison. And the condition on
which alone they can hope to have him released, is one which
it cannot but be difficult, if not impossible, to persuade their
father to fulfil. In three successive pictures, as it were, we
trace the onward progress of the action, from this point where
all seems dark.
I. The homeward journey of these stricken men might
well be sad and dreary. The strange conduct of Joseph, in
his personated character of Egyptian ruler, must have been
very perplexing; it must have seemed to them the more so,
the more they thought and talked of it, — and what else could
they think or talk of by the way ? They could scarcely look
upon it as an ordinary instance of official severity and caprice,
even according to the usages of tyranny in that olden time.
There is something inexplicable about this naturalised Ca-
naanite in Egypt ; this man who came to Egypt as a slave,
like what Joseph must have been after they had sold him ; a
slave " stolen away," according to his own account, to the chief
THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH. 195
butler, "out of the land of the Hebrews ;" who now, in so re-
markable a manner, has got promotion to the right hand of
Pharaoh, and wields all his power. For they must have heard
some rumours of his antecedents while they were so near him ;
and therefore they are the more perplexed by his treatment of
them. The extraordinary curiosity and interest which he
manifests about their family concerns, even in the midst of
his seeming vehemence and passion, cannot but strike their
minds. The fact of his pitiless treatment of them, so vividly
recalling their pitiless treatment of Joseph, must still farther
impress them. The man is harsh. But yet there is a certain
tender pathos in his harshness to which they cannot be in-
sensible. There is a kind of fascination about him, even when
he calls them spies j — something that keeps them submissive,
and gives him an influence over them, even when he appears
to be casting them off. He is of a relenting mood also ; he
does not insist on his first cruel proposition ; he is content to
retain a single hostage. He honourably pledges his faith, not
only for the safe custody, but for the good treatment of this
one brother, till the others come again ; and he gives liberal
and hospitable instructions as to their departure in peace and
plenty : " Then Joseph commanded to fill their sacks with
corn, and to restore every man's money into his sack, and to
give them provision for the way " (ver. 25).
These instructions, indeed, and the effects of them, are
only partially known to the travellers at starting. The
restoration of their money is managed secretly. But " the
provision for the way" they could not but be aware of; and
it must have appeared to them to be a special instance of
God's providence over them, that after undergoing such
humiliation and alarm, they should be thus handsomely dis-
missed and forwarded on their homeward journey.
Soon, however, a startling circumstance agitates their minds
by the way. " As one of them opened his sack to give his
ass provender in the inn, he espied his money : for, behold, it
196 THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH.
was in his sack's mouth. And he said unto his brethren, My
money is restored ; and, lo, it is even in my sack : and their
heart failed them, and they were afraid, saying one to another,
What is this that God hath done unto us?" (ver. 26-28).
Tliey are greatly at a loss. What can this mean ] It can
Scarcely be accident or chance. Is it then a device to entrap and
ensnare them 1 Are they already pursued by emissaries of the
Eg}'ptian lord, commissioned to arrest them, and bring them
back on a pretended charge of fraud or theft 1 That can
scarcely be, — for if he had intended to lay hold of them,
why should he not rather have kept them, as he at first pro-
posed, on the charge of their being spies ? The thing is un-
accountable. But be the explanation what it may, these men
feel that it is the Lord who is dealing with them ;in so
singular a manner. It is still their sin that is finding them
out. All this dark and strange turn of afi'airs is the Lord's
visitation, moving them to repentance. And whatever gleams
of light and hope break in upon them, through the variable
mood of this mysterious governor, — so incongruously com-
pounded of fury and of tenderness, — that too is of the Lord.
It is the Lord who is causing them to " sing of mercy and of
judgment," in the exercise of that long-suffering of his which
is to them salvation.
II. The scene on their return home is deeply affecting.
First, they simply narrate to their father Jacob all that had
passed in Egypt (29-34). This time there is no concealment
or disguise ; no story invented to explain the loss of Simeon,
and cover over the demand for Benjamin. The deceit once
practised on their venerable parent has borne such bitter fruit,
and their consciences, in the crisis of their own danger, have
been so exercised about it, that they have no heart to try the
same sort of policy again. Thus far, these men are now
" Israelites indeed, in whom is no guile." Then, the won-
der and alarm of the discovery of every man's money in his
sack's mouth, they share in all simplicity with Jacob (ver. 35).
THE TRIAL AND TRIUI^rPH OF FAITH. 197
Again, they may well ask, what can this mean ? It surely is
not the Egyptian ruler's ordinary way of dealing with all
strangers coming to buy food in Egypt. And it clearly ap-
pears now that it is not a stratagem to procure their detention.
What then] Is it intended, by this act of liberality, to lay
them under an additional obligation or necessity to return,
and carry with them Benjamin 1 Is it to put them more upon
their honour, so that they cannot help revisiting Egypt to have
this mysterious matter cleared up 1 They are afraid ; — their
father as well as they. The mystery only heightens the old
man's distress, in the view of the whole untoAvard transaction.
For it is the representation of Jacob's deep dejection
that chiefly fills the eye and the heart in this picture of family
grief. How affecting is his first burst of complaint and ex-
postulation ! " Me have ye bereaved of my children : Joseph
is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin away :
all these things are against me " (ver. 36). You have lost me
two sons already. "Will you insist on my losing a third 1 Did
you really give in to that cruel man's cruel terms, and not only
consent to let him keep Simeon from me, but promise that he
should have Benjamin, my Eachel's Benjamin, also 1 Would
nothing content that ravenous Egyptian vulture but that he
must make a prey of two more of my brood of loved sons,
over and above that one of whose fatal loss you so simply, yet
so touchingly, told him 1 And could you bring yourselves to
acquiesce 1 Then am I forlorn indeed ! Who, or what, is
favourable or propitious to me ? " All these things are against
me."
It is a sad and bitter cry. Sinful, no doubt, it is, or tends
to be, at least if the feeling is persisted in and indulged. But
the utterance of sorrow, as nature prompts, is not to be re-
strained ; it is not forbidden by the Lord, but rather encour-
aged. Jacob soon gives evidence enough of his mind and
heart being schooled into an attitude of meek submission ; and
the schooling may have been none the worse for his giving
198 THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH.
vent freely at first to the irrepressible anguish of his soul. At
all events, he carries our pity and sympathy in his distmst of
his sons, and his disposition to lay the blame of this miserable
state of things on them. We enter into his feelings when,
looking back to their unbrotherly treatment of Joseph, even
as he knew it — and he did not know the worst — and consider-
ing all their conduct since — he gives himself up to a sense of
utter desolation. Will you leave me nothing ] Will you take
from me all 1 It is too much ! " All these things are against
me ! " Even his settled obstinacy of purpose, as he sets him-
self against what his sons would have him to do, we are scarcely
inclined very seriously to blame.
Reuben is undoubtedly in earnest in the pledge which he is
v/illing to give of his confidence that no harm will in the end
come to Benjamin ; " Slay my two sons, if I bring him not to
thee ; deliver him into my hand, and I will bring him to thee
again " (ver. 37). Doubtless he would be as anxious to keep
Benjamin safe as he was to keep Joseph safe. And he has
evidently good hope concerning the issue of this affair —
having shrewdly observed, we may suppose, something of
that relenting softness in the Egyptian ruler's nature that
cropped out in the midst of his rough and rugged manner —
and being persuaded that compliance with his whim of having
Benjamin sent as one of them, would conciliate his favour and
remove his suspicions, whether real or feigned. Hence pro-
bably his readiness to off'er such a guarantee as the placing of
his own sons in his father's hand. His language, perhaps,
is not to be understood quite literally ; he could scarcely sup-
pose that even if he failed to bring back Benjamin, his father
would actually take him at his word, and put the two youths
assigned as hostages to death. But it is a strong and anxious
way of expressing, on the one hand, his solicitude to carry
out what the ruler in Egypt had required, and on the other
hand, his conviction that it was quite safe to do so — that the
ruler would be found true to his part of the engagement — that
THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH. 199
Simeon would be restored, food in plenty secured, and Benja-
min brought home again unharmed.
Jacob, however, is not persuaded or convinced by his eldest
son's confident importunity. He knows nothing of Reuben's
former care for the preservation of Joseph ; it cannot therefore
be expected that he should now be more willing to commit
Benjamin to him than to the others. At anyrate, the old
man is firm in his determination not to run any risk of losing
Joseph's only brother, — Rachel's only child. I could not
stand it, he plaintively exclaims. Urge me no more. My
mind is made up. " My son shall not go down with you ; for
his brother is dead, and he is left alone : if mischief befall
him by the way in which ye go, then shall ye bring down my
gray hairs with sorrow to the grave " (ver. 38).
III. But Jacob undergoes a change of mind (xliii. 1-14).
At first sight it might seem to be a change wrought under
the pressure of mere physical necessity. As long as the supply of
food brought from Egypt lasts, things remain on the footing of
Jacob's expressed determination not to part with his youngest
son. There is silence on the subject in the household ; for it is
needless to prolong the painful and irritating discussion. Tliere
may even be hope that it may never be needful to revive it.
Before their stock in hand is exhausted, plenty may have re-
turned to the land of Canaan ; and when Egypt's lordly
potentate ceases to have the immense power which his com-
mand of Egyi^t's full granaries gives him over a starving world,
he may become less tyrannical and more placable, and may be
got to consent on easier terms to Simeon's release. But it is
otherwise ordered by the Lord. The famine continues to be-
come more severe rather than more mild. The corn brought
out of Egypt is eaten up. The patriarch-father himself, as
responsible for the household's subsistence, is the first to turn
his thoughts to the land of plenty, and the storehouses on the
banks of the Nile : " Go again, buy us a little food " (ver. 1, 2).
It is for the sons now to object, and to remind Jacob of
200 THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH.
the governor's solemn protest : " Ye shall not see my face,
except your brother be with you" (ver. 3-5). They have
reason on their side. They know, as their father cannot fully
know, how the case actually stands. They cannot but insist
upon it, as the condition of their complying with their father's
command to return to Egypt, that they shall be allowed to
carry Benjamin with them. How otherwise can they face the
incensed and passionate viceroy, if they so flagrantly break
faith with him, and so balk his fierce humour, as to ask an
audience of him without that younger brother of theirs, Avhom
he had set his heart on seeing, and whose presence with them
he had so vehemently declared to be the only proof he would
accept of their being not spies, but true men 1
Such considerations they urge upon their father, not, as it
would seem, undutifully or unfeelingly. On the contrary,
they are evidently affected by the old man's burst of sorrowful
passion : " "\Mierefore dealt ye so ill with me, as to tell the
man whether ye had yet a brother V (ver. 6). There is a deep
pathos in the simplicity of this question ; and scarcely less in
the earnestness of their reply ; — " The man asked us straitlj^
of our state, and of our kindred, saying, Is your father yet
alive ? have ye another brother 1 and we told him according
to the tenor of these words : could we certainly know that
he would say. Bring your brother down ?" (ver. 7.)
We could not help it, is their apology ; that strange man
pressed us so closely that there was no resisting him. And
how could we anticipate that he would make so cruel a use
of the information, — the sad family tale, — which, under the
rack of an accusation of treachery, he remorselessly extracted
from our lips !
The subdued tone of this defence, and explanation on the
part of his sons, may have gone far to overcome their father's
scruples. He must have seen now that they were in real
earnest, and that they were acting under the pressure of stern
necessity. At first, when immediately on their return home,
THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH. 201
they made the proposal, Jacob may have been slow to admit
this. He may have been apt to suspect some sinister design,
— or at least to hope that in the long run his sons would
depart from so grievous a condition, and admit that a second
embassy for food might be undertaken without regard to it.
Now, however, when in such straits as the household are
reduced to, these fathers of famiHes persist in their averment
that they dare not go to Egypt without Benjamin, — and when
they give so sunple, full, and touching a detail of the way in
which it all came about, — the old man is not only satisfied as
to the truthfulness of his sons, but made to see also that the
Lord's hand is in the matter.
Judah's eager pleading, therefore, is now more a word in
season than Eeuben's somewhat premature offer of security
had been, " Send the lad with me, and we will arise and go ;
that we may live, and not die, both we, and thou, and also our
little ones. I will be surety for him ; of my hand shalt thou
require him : if I bring him not unto thee, and set him before
thee, then let me bear the blame for ever : For except we had
lingered, surely now we had returned this second time "
(ver. 8-10).
The patriarch recovers liis calm trust in God, his dignified
composure. He resumes once again the firm and manly atti-
tude which one who has known the Lord as his covenant-God
ought always to maintain in adversity. There is no more any
querulous complaining, any universal despondenc}^, — " all these
things are against me ! " With a feeling of glad relief we see
him erect and strong ; — taking his proper place at the head of
this whole affair ; — issuing in unfaltering terms his directions
as to the conduct of the enterprise.
" Their father Israel" — Yes! he is Israel once more — "their
father Israel said unto them, If it must be so now, do this ;
take of the best fruits of the land in your vessels, and carry
down the man a present ; and the money that was brought
again in the mouth of your sacks, carry it again in your hand :
202 THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH.
peracl venture it was an oversight" (ver. 11, 12). He speaks
as became him, with his own due authority. He cheerfully
yields up his Benjamin ; " Take also your brother, and arise,
go again unto the man" (ver. 13). And he concludes his ad-
dress with the words of pious benediction and prayer ; — words
of comfortable hope for them ; — and for himself, blessed words
of absohitely unreserved and unconditional resignation ; " God
Almighty give you mercy before the man, that he may send
away your other brother, and Benjamin. If I be bereaved of
my children, I am bereaved " (ver. 14).
I scarcely know if any position in Jacob's eventful experi-
ence is more noble, in a spiritual point of view, than that which
is here described. The closing declaration, " If I be bereaved
of my children, I am bereaved," is, in the view of all the cir-
cumstances, an instance of acquiescence in the will of God, all
but unparalleled. Jacob is now in extreme old age, and he is
about to be left alone, so far as the companionship of his sons
is concerned. When, long ago, the ten brothers went from
home to feed their flocks, Joseph was the comfort of his
father's heart, — Benjamin being but a fhild. In his love to
the ten, Jacob sends Joseph to Shechem, — and Joseph goes
on to Dothan, — and there disappears. Jacob has still Ben-
jamin, as well as the ten, to comfort him in his being bereaved
of Joseph. When the ten are first constrained to go to Egypt
for food, Jacob has still Benjamin left to comfort him. But
now, he is to be literally left alone ; Benjamin goes A^dth the
rest. And however it may be necessary to put a good face on
the mission, and send the brothers off with a hopeful blessing,
it is for the father a terrible venture. Already Simeon is the
tenant of an Egyptian prison. This new embassy, in which all
the rest join, may end in their all sharing Simeon's fate, — if
not even in a worse catastrophe than that. Jacob consents to
the surrender. Leave him Benjamin, and you leave him some-
thing to look to, and lean on, after the flesh. When he gives
THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH. 203
up Benjamin, what remains 1 It is all, henceforth, with Jacob,
an exercise of mere and simple faith, — " enduring as seeing
him who is invisible."
Let any one imagine the state of Jacob after he has thus
sent all his sons away. It is the very triumph of that faith
which is " the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of
things not seen." Weeks or months must elapse before any
tidings can reach him of the good or ill success of this expedi-
tion. The vessel that carries such a venture in its bosom may
not be heard of till his grey hairs, through weary watching,
haA^e become greyer still. His fond eye, dimmed with the bitter
tears of age, sees them — scarcely sees them — leaving him per-
haps for ever on this earth. He may look on them, he may
look on Benjamin, no more on this side of the grave. He has
no express promise that he shall. What probable presumption
is there that he shall 1 It is indeed a dark and doubtful pros-
pect. But, by God's grace, the very extremity of the emergency
rouses the old believer to a new venture of faith. He has
trusted God before ; he will trust him still. " I will trust and
not be afraid," is his language ; " Though he slay me, yet mil
I trust him."
And this is the man whom but yesterday we saw thoroughly
unmanned, and indulging almost in a childish, burst of passion-
ate upbraiding against his God, as well as against his sons —
''All these things are against me?" He is like one sunk in
the mingled imbecility and obstinacy of helpless dotage. AMiere
is his manly reason ? Where his religious resignation — liis
shrewd sense — his strong faith ] What a change now !
Jacob is himself; he is Israel! The pilgrim of half a
centurj" is on his feet again, with staff in hand, and eye fixed
once more on " the city which hath foundations, whose builder
and maker is God." This is not his rest ; his tent in Canaan
is not his home ; its dear fellowships are not his portion. All
things are not against him, though " all these things," — " the
things that are seen," — may seem to be so. They, however, are
204 THE TRIAL AND TRIUMPH OF FAITH.
but " temporal." " The things which are not seen are eternal ;"
and they are not against him. " The earthly house of his taber-
nacle" may be "dissolved," before his sons come back, before
Benjamin can be with him again. But he has " a building of
God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."
Thus, a second time, " when he is weak, then is he strong ;"
— strong in faith, seeing an unseen Lord, leaning on an
unseen powerful arm, looking up into an unseen loving face,
lookuig out for an unseen glorious home. Strong in such faith,
he can attend to what is urgent in the occasion on hand, going
into even its minute business details. He can order his house-
hold gravely but cheerfully, in a crisis that makes the hearts
of the other inmates fail. He can bid what may be a final
farewell to these stalwart and goodly young men, who, in spit«
of all their faults, are his sons still. He can take what may
be his last look of the Benoni, — the Benjamin, — his dying
Rachel left him. And calmly committing himself and his way
to the God who blessed him at Bethel, and led him to SjTia,
and brought him back to Canaan, — the God who has guided
and guarded hun all his life hitherto, — the God of whom he
can say, " I know in whom I have believed," — he will walk
on for the rest of his earthly sojourn, — not wearily, not
gi'udgingly, — but rejoicingly, hopefully, — not weeping always,
as if all things were against him, — but praising God who makes
all things work together for his good. He will walk, and work,
and suffer, and wait, as " a stranger and pilgrim on the earth,
declaring plainly that he seeks a better country, even a
heavenly."
THE DISCOVERY. 205
LIX.
THE DISCOVERY— MAN'S EXTREMITY GOD'S
OPPORTUNITY.
Genesis xliii. 15— xlv. 3.
They shall look upon me whom they have pierced. — Zech. xii. 10.
They were afraid ; but he said unto them, It is I ; be not afraid.—
JoHX vi. 19, 20.
" Joseph made haste " (xliii. 30) ; that maybe said to be the
exi)Ianation of Joseph's whole conduct on the occasion of his
brethren's second visit to Egypt. He was, if we may judge
from the outset of the narrative, nervous, agitated, restless :
his manner abrupt, his movements quick, his whole demeanour
like that of a man, as we say, in a flutter, or in a flurry, — in a
state of excitement which he can scarcely control. He is all on
edge, for the crisis is come. He has to save aj^pearances, and
play his part as a rough-speaking Egyptian vizier, for a little
longer. But it is with far more difficulty than before that he
does so now. There is a hurried fitfulness about his way of
dealing with the case that almost betrays him too soon. He
has enough to do to change his position, as it were, every
moment, that he may keep his countenance, and not break
down. All throughout, I think, this indication of an inward
struggle is to be traced ; and it gives intense interest, if I
mistake not, to the successive parts of the scene.
I. There is an audience at the public levee : " The men
stood before Joseph " (xliii. 15). The first sight of his return-
ing brethren is abnost more than he can stand ; he makes
206 THE DISCOVERY.
haste to cut short the interview. The appearance of Benja-
min is evidently too much for him (ver. 16); it is his pre-
sence that overpowers him, and makes him fain to turn from
his l3rethren w^ithout venturing to open his lips to them. He
speaks hastily to the ruler of his house, — barely summoning
courage to give these Hebrew strangers in charge to him, that
he may carry them from the place of public audience to his
own private residence in the palace, and prepare for their
sitting at meat with him at noon. Allowing no time for expk.-
nations, he is glad thus hastily to dismiss them, even rudely
as it might seem, from his presence, lest on the very seat of
authority, his self-possession should give way.
For the dismissal is very summary, — and is felt by the
brethren to be so: "The men were afraid" (ver. 17). Xo
wonder, one would say, that the men were afraid. They ap-
prehended evil from their being brought into Joseph's house.
The governor must have some private and personal cause of
offence, about which he wishes to reckon with them more
closely, than he could do in an open levee. They at once
conjecture what it is ; it must be about " the money that
was returned in their sacks :" it must be " that he may seek
occasion against us, and take us for bondmen, and our asses "
(ver. 18). They shrink from entering the house, until they
have entreated their conductor to hear their explanation,
ending with the protestation : — " We cannot tell wdio put our
money in our sacks" (ver. 19-22). The ruler of Joseph's
house takes pains kindly to reassure them ; " He said, Peace
be to you, fear not ; your God, and the God of your father,
hath given you treasure in your sacks ; I had your money.
And he brought Simeon out unto them " (ver. 23). His manner
of reassuring them is very remarkable ; he uses the language,
not of respect only, but even of sympathy. If he does not him-
self fear the true God, he reverences those who do. He is
Joseph's confidential servant, — near his person, — high in his
esteem. His master has not disguised or dissembled his reli-
man's extremity god's opportunity.
20'
gion ; the man has seen and noted his avoiding all participa-
tion in Egyptian idolatry, and his devout consistent worship
of one Supreme Being He has gathered that these strangers
are of the same sort of faith with his master ; and that this
probably is the explanation of their having been so liberally
treated formerly, as well as of their being about to be so
hospitably entertained now. They come from the same part
of the world to which the ruler traces his origin, and own the
same God as he does. So the man accounts to himself for
what has taken place,— and so he comforts them. It is your
God, your hereditary God, who has done this ; therefore have
peace and fear not. See, here is your brother Simeon, whom
you left a prisoner and hostage, safe and well. There is no
treachery or harsh treatment intended ; Simeon's restoration
to^ you is surely a sufficient pledge of the governor's good
faith. Thus they are set at ease. So " the man brought the
men into Joseph's house, and gave them water, and they
washed their feet, and he gave their asses provender. And they
made ready the present against Joseph came at noon : for
they heard that they should eat bread there " (ver. 24, 25).
II. The scene at the banquet in the governor's house, it is
almost an offence to touch, in the way either of criticism or of
comment. Joseph's demeanour is still hurried and agitated ;
—he is more than ever put to it to keep up his incognito and
suppress his vehement emotion, by the assumption of an abrupt
and hasty manner.
The reception, as it were, in the withdrawing-room, opens
in the usual style of oriental courtesy. The strangers, intro-
duced as guests, offer their presents in the customary form,
and make the prescribed obeisance (ver. 26). The great man
acting the part of a princely host or entertainer, is gracious
and condescending in his polite enquiries (ver. 27). And, as
it would seem, he receives with that air of civil and courtly
satisfaction which it becomes him to show, their grateful and
deferential reply, and their repeated prostration of themselves
208 THE DISCOVERY.
(ver. 28). So far the conversation proceeds decorously and
with dignity. It may be noticed, however, that the governor
has his eyes cast down, and keeps them fixed on the ground.
He does not look his invited guests in the face. Is it con-
tempt 1 or indifference 1 or mere absence of mind ? Or is it
that he fears he may break down and betray himself ? — But
now he looks up. His eager gaze is fastened again, as in the
former brief interview, on Benjamin, — " his mother's son," as
the narrative with touching simplicity remarks. He cannot
stand it. Scarcely has he contrived to ask, with seeming un-
concern, the obvious question that might be expected of him
in the circumstances, when his self command gives way ; — and
fairly unmanned, with a broken benediction hastily muttered
over the lad's head, he rushes out to vent his full heart alone !
It is a touch of nature, — such as throughout all time, and all
the world over, makes men kin. " He lifted up his eyes, and
saw his brother Benjamin, his mother's son, and said. Is this
your younger brother, of whom ye spake unto me ? And he
said, God be gracious unto thee, my son. And Joseph made
haste : for his bowels did yearn upon liis brother : and he
sought where to weep ; and he entered into his chamber, and
wept there " (ver. 29, 30).
How, after all, he got through the trying ordeal of the
feast, we may, according to our several temperaments, con-
jecture. He " makes haste." That is his only safety. With-
out pause or interruption he hurries on the ceremonial. All,
indeed, is ordered in due form, and according to strict etiquette.
There is no breach of decorum, no cause of offence to any.
The governor has so completely recovered his composure that,
" refraining himself," he can attend even to the minute points
and punctilios of the entertainment. He takes his place, and
gives his orders, as if notliing had occurred to disconcert him
(ver. 31). All traces of recent tears are wiped away. He
leaves his chamber outwardly serene and calm, — and gives
directions for the meal to be served. He takes care that the
man's extremity god's opportunity. 200
proper distinction is kept np between himself and his guests, as
well as between the Egyptian courtiers and these HebreA\-
strangers ; separate tables being prepared, in deference to a
prejudice of wdiich it would be irrelevant here to inquire the
cause (ver. 32). Nay, he carries his careful discrimination
still farther. With an exactness that strikes them with
strange surprise, he arranges the eleven according to seniority,
— so well does he remember them, individually as well as
collectively (ver. 33). And paying very special attention and
a very marked compliment to them all, he gratifies his feelings
by singling out, in a way that might not awaken suspicion, the
youngest and most interesting of their number, and loading
him, probably according to the custom of the court, with
peculiar tokens of his kindness : " He took and sent messes
unto them from before him : but Benjamin's mess was five
times so much as any of theirs. And they drank, and were
merry with him" (ver. 34). Thus, as we may suppose, he
hurries over the banquet ; allowing himself no time to think
or feel, — promoting the general hilarity, — and carrying oif his
own intensity of suppressed emotion under an air of busy and,
as it might seem, even officious hospitality.
III. The ingenious device which Joseph adopted for secur-
ing Benjamin alone, — on the evening of the day on which he
entertained his brethren, and in the view of their departure
homeward early next morning, — is in keeping with his assumed
character of an Egyptian vizier. It is such a trick as one
might imagine to be keenly relished by some of those caprici-
ous potentates of whose whims we read in oriental fable.
Why Joseph should have chosen to resort to an expedient of
that sort, uidess it were simply that he meant to play out his
part well and consistently to the last, it is really idle to ask.
Perhaps it was a hasty thought. He is not quite prepared to
discover himself ; and yet he can scarcely bear to let them all,
— or in particular, to let Benjamin away. It will not do to
repeat the old stratagem of afi'ecting still to believe them spies,
VOL. II. p
210 THE DISCO^-ERY.
demanding still more specific proof of their being true men,
and keeping one of them in security till they bring the proof
demanded. He must try a nevr stroke of poHcy. And this
device of the pretended divining cup may answer as ^ell as
any. It will not awaken suspicion or surprise among his
ordinary Egyptian attendants : it is the kind of clever child's-
play with which they are familiar.
The steward of Joseph's house hears with all gra^-ity the
order given, and prepares to obey it (ver. 1, 2). "With equal
gravity, when the men have departed next morning, he hears
and obeys the order to pursue them and recover the cup (ver.
3-5). He shrewdly guesses his master's design, — and sets
himself coolly to carry it out.
The men are suddenly arrested in their journey (ver. 6).
They hear with consternation this new charge of theft, and
with solemn emphasis disclaim it (ver. 7). They appeal to the
proof of honesty they have given in bringing back the money
they had found in the mouth of their sacks, on the occasion of
their former ^isit (ver. 8). And they challenge investigation,
with all the confidence of conscious innocency. If there be a
thief among us, you may punish, not only him, but all of us,
— for we vouch for one another ; " With whomsoever of thy
servants the cup be found, both let him die, and we also will
be my lord's bondmen" (ver. 9). With the utmost mildness
and moderation, as it would appear to them, their captor
accepts, but with a just modification, their challenge. It is
enough that the guilty one of your number should himself
suffer, not death, but bondage, — while all the rest of you go
free (ver. 10). So the search proceeds, — the imperturbable
steward calmly superintending it, as if he knew nothing of
what was coming. Deliberately taking the eldest first, and, one
after another, exhausting all who are scatheless, he comes at
last to the seeming culprit ; " The cup was found in Benjamin's
sack" (ver. 11, li).
Briefly, but how pathetically, is the effect of this exposui'e
MANS EXTREMITY GODS OPPORTUNITY. 211
told ! The brothers are startled and stunned. What can all
this mean ] VTlmt new and ovei-whelming evidence is this of
their old sin finding them out ? Is it a reality that has
befallen them, or a horrid dream that haunts them ? It can-
not be that Benjamin, their best and fairest, has committed
such a crime, — that he has requited the singular favour the
strange governor showed him by such ingratitude, — that he
has stained his young hands with sudden baseness. There is
some dark mystery about the matter; God is dealing with
them terribly in his wratL And now, what is to be done I
Is Benjamin to be surrendered, and are they to go 1 That,
very likely, is what Joseph really wants. His heart, when
he is alone after the banquet, yearns for Benjamin ; — some-
how, anyhow, let the others be off as they may, he must have
"his mother's son." And the scheme he hits upon may serv'e
his purpose to detach Benjamin from the rest, and restore him
to his embrace. He may even now be preparing a glad sur-
prise for the affrighted youth who, when he is brought back
alone, is to find in him, instead of an unjust and angry tyrant,
a lo^Tug brother, and powerful patron and friend. If so, he is
to be so far disappointed. The brothers will not consent to
part company vriih the accused ; whatever danger there may
be, or whatever disgrace, they wiU share it with him- They
are changed from what they were when they could so crueUy,
and without a cause, sell their father's favourite child. Not
even when there seems to be a cause, will they give up their
father's last comfort now ; '' They rent their clothes, and laded
every man his ass, and returned to the city" (ver. 1.3).
IV. Thus the whole company return together : " And
Judah and his brethren," — Judah taking the lead now, for he
had taken the lead in persuading Jacob to part with Benjamin,
and had come under the most solemn obhgationsfor his safety, —
" Judah and his brethren came to Joseph's house (for he was
yet there) ; and they feU before him to the ground " (ver. 14).
This return of aU his brethren together may have taken Joseph
212 THE DISCOVERY.
by surprise. It was still early morning. Josepli had not
left his home to transact business in his public court ; they
found him in comparative privacy, in his palace. Their coming
back in a body was fitted, perhaps, at first to disconcert, and
3^et afterw^ards it served to facilitate his plan. It was more
than he had expected or desired. And it seemed to stand in
the way of his special design to obtain possession of Benjamin.
But at the same time, he could scarcely resent it ; for it indi-
cated a more gracious frame of mind than he may have been
giving them credit for. And along with their subdued and
humble deportment, all throughout, it may have had something
to do with the impulse to discover himself, which, as the con-
versation went on, soon proved too strong for him.
At first, indeed, he keeps up his assumed sternness and
gruffness of manner. He speaks as one justly offended by
the secret meanness and villany,thus by supernatural or magical
means discovered : " \Miat deed is this that ye have done 1
Wot ye not that such a man as I can certainly divine" (ver. 15).
He makes an attempt, also, to accomplish the object upon
which his heart is set, — to separate Benjamin from the rest,
and keep him with him while the others may go. This appears
as the colloquy proceeds. The reply made to his first angry
accusation is not very coherent : " Judah said, What shall we
say unto my lord ? what shall v^e speak ? or how shall we clear
ourselves 1 God hath found out the iniquity of thy servants.
Behold, we are my lord's servants ; both we, and he also with
whom the cup is found " (ver. 1 6). Judah speaks as one in
great trepidation ; he is utterly at a loss how to explain what
has occurred. But, at all events, he is clear enough in his
intimation that they all mean to make common cause with
Benjamin. How the cup got into Benjamin's sack, they can-
not tell ; for they cannot believe it to be Benjamin's own
doing. Be it accident, however, or contrivance, or legerde-
main, they take it as a blow struck by the divine hand at all
of them together. It is God touching them at the tenderest
man's extremity god's opportunity. 213
point, — ^Avounding tliem all in common through their youngest
— Benjamin — whom their father had, with so many misgivings
and forebodings, committed to them, and whom it concerned
their common honour to carry back to the old man in safety.
It is a common calamity, a common judgment. Judah frankly
tells this stern lord of Egypt that they so regard it. They
accept it at the hand of God as the common punishment of
their untold common sin. They had offended together ; and.
they will now also suffer together.
Not so is Joseph's rejoinder, in the character of ruler and
judge. He takes high ground in justice and equity. It is
Benjamin, " his mother's son," that he longs to have. It is
Benjamin that he would fain contrive to keep, under all this
affectation of fair and impartial dealing. It is Benjamin, and
Benjamin alone that he wants : " God forbid that I should do
so ; but the man in whose hand the cup is found, he shall be
my servant ] and as for you, get you up in peace unto your
father" (ver. 17).
V. The speech of Judah, however, alters the whole aspect
of the case. The simple, natural, resistless eloquence of that
most pathetic appeal, breaks down all Joseph's reserve. It
may well do so. It is such an outbreak of genuine feeling as
a heart like Joseph's cannot withstand. If the idea had really
entered into his mind, — and much of the narrative would seem
to indicate that it had, — of getting Benjamin alone to be his
companion in his splendid exile, and letting the separation
otherwise between himself and his father's house in the mean-
time continue ; — if doubts as to how his other brethren might
be disposed to regard him, had made him hesitate about the
best way of treating them ; if such considerations, connected
with their former envious and cruel malice, — which might
rankle still in their bosoms though all sense of it was long gone
from his, — had moved him to make a difference between Ben-
jamin and them; — Judah's appeal was fitted to work a thorough
chan'ge. For it is indeed a noble pleading. The speaker rises
214 THE DISCOVERY.
to the occasion ; — for the occasion makes the speaker. It is
the very soul of truest oratory. And it is directed, perhaps
unconsciously on the orator's part, to the very point of break-
ing down Joseph's partial purpose on behalf of Benjamin.
Joseph may mean it for a kindness. Very soon, if Benja-
min is anyhow kept and the rest are suffered to go, he will
relieve his young brother's anxiety, and make him a sharer in
all his own prosperity. It will be his fond delight to advance
Benjamin to Pharaoh's favour and Egypt's highest honour.
But if any such romantic notion has been floating in Joseph's
brain, the speech of Judah is the very thing to recall him to
sober thought. It sets before him, in vivid picture, the actual
reahties of the case, as the brother, in his overwhelming
agony of spirit, simply tells an unvarnished tale of truth.
Fii^st, he adjures the governor, in most melting strains, to
give him a favourable hearing : " 0 my lord, let thy servant,
I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's ears ; and let not thine
anger burn against thy servant ; for thou art even as Pharaoh "
(ver. 1 8). It is a courtly opening ; but it is Cjuite artless and
sincere ; as much so as the opening of Paul's noble appeal to
King Agrippa. The speaker is in earnest ; in the earnestness
almost of desj^air. Next, he reminds the governor of the way
in which he had wrung from them the information about their
domestic circumstances, of which he is now making so cruel a
use (ver. 19-23). He paints now, in a few graphic strokes,
the scene between them and their father, when the old man's
consent to risk Benjamin was obtained, at the cost almost of
a broken heart (ver. 24-29). Unwittingly he sends a shaft
into Jose2:)h's bosom, as he represents his father bewailing
his beloved Eachel and her two sons, — one already lost, and
the other about to be torn away. The old man, says Judah,
assured us, ah ! how pathetically, — and his trembling, weep-
ing agitation confirmed the assurance, — that the loss of
Benjamin, after the loss of Joseph, was more than he could
survive. How then, he asks, can I face my father if I go
man's extremity god's opportunity. 215
home witliout Benjamin 1 " Now therefore, when I come to
thj^ servant my father, and the lad be not with us (seeing
that his life is bound up in the lad's life) ; it shall come to
pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with us, that he will
die : and thy servants shall bring down the gray hairs of thy
servant our father with sorrow to the grave" (ver. 30, 31).
I made myself, he continues, answerable to my father for the
lad's safe return ; let me, therefore, instead of him, be the
victim of thy displeasure (ver. 32, 33). Take me, and let the
lad go. I dare not, I cannot, face the fatal despair which his
absence must cause ; — " For how shall I go up to my father,
and the lad be not mth me 1 lest peradventure I see the evil
that shall come on my father" (ver. 34).
The whole pleading most thrillingly touches the right
chord in Joseph's soul. Instead of Egypt's splendour, to be
shared with Benjamin when he has entrapped him, as it were,
by guile, — there rises before his eyes the image of a forlorn
and desolate old man, whose fond caresses are yet fresh in his
remembrance. Judah's affecting words, accompanied, one
cannot doubt, with tears, in which they all share, awaken
home feelings that cannot be suppressed. The aspect of
severity can be maintained no longer. It is time for Joseph
to relent. " Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all
them that stood by him ; and he cried. Cause every man to go
out from me. And there stood no man with him while Joseph
made himself known unto his brethren. And he wept aloud :
and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh heard. And
Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph : does my father
yet live?" (ver. 1-3).
Over the scene of the discovery a veil of reserve is cast ;
Joseph is alone with his brethren. No strangers witness liis
emotion ; but the loud burst of his weeping is overheard
without. His brethren cannot speak for trouble and terror ;
but he invites them to draw near, and addresses to them
words of peace ; " Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves
216 THE DISCOVERY.
that ye sold me hither : for God did send me before you to
preserve life " (ver. 3-5). It is as in the day when that pro-
2)hecy shall be fulfilled, " I will pour upon the house of David,
and upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the spirit of grace
and of supj^lications : and they shall look upon me wdiom they
have pierced, and they shall mourn for him" (Zech. xii. 10).
Blessed are they who so mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Two observations on this scene may be allowed.
I. The precise moment of Joseph's making himself known
to his brethren, — whether we regard it as chosen by himself, or
as chosen for him by God through the working of his natural
feelings, — is highly significant. Certainly, it looks as if it was
a sudden thought, — an abrupt change of mind ; — as if up to
this time Joseph had really been intending to keep Benjamin,
ostensibly for a slave, and to send the rest sorrowing and
despairing away, — but now, moved by Judah's pathetic plead-
ing, found himself unable to persist in his purpose any longer.
If so, it is a circumstance surely very suggestive. Jesus, I
suppose, put on an air of stern and frowning severity, when
he made as if he would spurn away from him, like a dog, the
woman of Canaan, — and he kept up that aspect till the instant
of his being constrained by the woman's importunity to say,
"0 woman, great is thy faith." What a sudden change, and
how seasonable ! Instantly that face beams with its wonted
halo of love, — that eye is dim with its wonted tear of pity, —
that mouth utters its wonted words, — such as never man
spake but this man ! There, it was great faith that seemingly
^\Tote the change, — here, it is great need. Nay rather, there
and here alike, it is great need ; — great need, prompting great
earnestness and urgency — great boldness and perseverance.
It was great need that furnished the woman with that keen
and witty logic of hers ; — " Truth, Lord, but the dogs eat of
the crumbs of the children's table." It was great need that
gave Judah that matchless, persuasive eloquence, which other-
man's extremity god's opportunity. 217
wise his tongue never would have known. It is great need
that touches Joseph's heart. It is thy great need that touches
thy Joseph's heart, 0 poor sinner, 0 fainting soul 1 Thy sin is
terribly finding thee out ; and all is very dark ! The very
Lord of grace and glory, on whom thy fate hangs, keeps an
ominous silence; — or is about to deal out to thee a rigid
measure of inexorable justice. Still cleave to him, 0 thou
guilty one, with guilt of deepest dye on thy conscience, —
cleave to him, 0 thou of little faith, sinking in a stormy sea.
Cry to him ; plead with him ; wrestle with him ! Eefuse
to let him go until he bless thee.
Lo ! he smiles, — he weeps. That dark brow unbends.
Those withdrawn arms are stretched out. Thou art in his
embrace. He cannot refrain himself He makes himself
known to thee, — to thee, the chief of sinners — to whom he
rejoices affectionately to say, — I am Jesus, thy Saviour, thy
friend, thy brother.
II. The manner of this disclosure is as significant as the
time of it. All is unmingled tenderness and love. Not a
word of upbraiding, — not a look of reproach, — not a sigh of
regret or complaint. All is peace. If their old sin, — then
freshly, oh ! how freshly and poignantly remembered by them,
— is mentioned by him at all, it is only that he may assure
them of its being thoroughly forgiven. He would even seem
almost to excuse it, or to excuse them, — sliomng how their
conduct wrought out the gracious saving purpose of God. At
aU events, he will have them to think of that gracious saving
purpose now, as giving them a pledge of there being mercy
enough with God for the very worst of them, and for the very
worst deed that any of them has done.
So the apostles preached Christ to his betrayers and mur-
derers,— telling them that the blood which they so cruelly shed,
and which they so madly imprecated upon their own heads,
was flowing as a fountain to cleanse them from all sin, — the
sin even of crucifying the Lord of glory. So Christ discovers
218 THE DISCOVERY— man's EXTREMITY GOD'S OPPORTUNITY.
liimself to you, 0 ye men of broken spirits and contrite hearts,
when the Holy Spirit is showing you how you have been
piercing him. " I am Jesus whom thou persecutest ;" " Saul !
Saul ! why persecutest thou me T' — that is the utmost of his
rejDroof Or rather, it is his affectionate, most touching, alto-
gether irresistible expostulation.
Could the brothers mthstand that appeal, — I am Joseph
your brother whom ye sold into ^gypt ? Could Saul withstand
that appeal, — I am Jesus whom thou persecutest 1 Canst thou
■withstand the appeal, when he whom thou hast been piercing,
wounding, grieving afresh, till this very hour, speaks to thee
as he never spoke to thee before — or speaks to thee as he has
often spoken to thee before, — but with new power, as now at
last thou feelest in thy inmost soul, — " I, even I, am he that
blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will
not remember thy sins."
A TRUE BROTHER — A GENEROUS KING. 219
LX.
A TRUE BROTHER— A GENEROUS KING— A GLAD
FATHER.
Genesis xly.
A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another ; as I
have loved you, that ye also love one another. — John xiii. 34.
Kings shall be thy nui'sing fathers. — Isaiah xlix. 23.
A wise son maketh a glad father. — Proyekbs x. 1.
Joseph, Pharaoh, Jacob, stand out conspicuous in this chapter,
— Joseph's brotherly and filial love (ver. 4-15), — Pharaoh's
grateful and generous hospitality (ver. 16-20), — Jacob's piety
(ver. 21-28).
I. The address of Joseph to his brethren, is singular for
its rare mixture of authority and tenderness. There is in it the
calm and conscious air of the prince and prophet, tempered
wdth all a son's reverence, and all a brother's fond familiarity.
It is worthy of Joseph, — of his simple character, and of his
exalted rank (ver. 4-15).
The first outburst of irrepressible feeling being over, Joseph
sets himself to encourage his troubled and terrified brethren, —
too troubled and too terrified to be able to answer his plain
question, " Doth my father yet live " (ver. 3). He kindly bids
them draw near — " Come near to me, I pray you." And as
they come near, he repeats his intimation, " I am Joseph," —
adding to it these two particulars, — " your brother, whom ye
sold into Egypt." In doing so, he means to speak comfort
and peace to them. It is not by way of reproach that he reminds
220 A TRUE BROTHER — A GENEROUS KING.
them of the past ; but rather to press home upon them the
assurance that he is still their brother. Neither his present
elevation, nor the deep shame and suffering which preceded it,
has separated him from them. In spite of all that might
seem to have put a wide gulph between him and them, he is
not estranged from them. All throughout, in the hands of the
Ishmaelites, in Potiphar's house, in the cruel disgrace and pain
of his unjust imprisonment, he has never ceased to feel himself
to be their brother, notwithstanding their unbrotherly treat-
ment of him. Seated on the throne of sovereign power, he is
not too elevated to call them brethren still : " I am Joseph
your brother." And if now he recalls the sad scene of their
last parting in Canaan, — " whom ye sold into Egypt " — it is
not that he may upbraid them with what they then did, but
that he may show how it has been all ordered and overruled
for good (ver. 5-8). It brought about what God designed ;
" God did send me hither." And it is for you that I am here ;
— " to preserve you a posterity and save your lives by a great
deliverance." And not for you only, but for the Gentile world
also, for " he hath made me a father to Pharaoh," to benefit
" all the land of Egypt." This is not your doing, but God's.
Thus reassured, Joseph's brethren are prepared to await
his orders. It cannot surprise them to find that his first con-
cern is about his father. Once and again has Joseph, even
when keeping himself unknown, inquired about the old man's
life and health, with an earnestness and particularity that might
seem to them unaccountable on the part of a mere stranger,
and one so high in rank at a foreign court. Now the mystery
is solved. That Joseph should be thus thoughtful about the
fond parent whose favourite child he had been, is only natural.
But surely, in the circumstances, it must have cut these men
to the heart to think of the long estrangement of which they
had been the cause! Could they listen unmoved to their
brother's eager and impetuous urgency? " Haste ye" (ver. 9) ;
— and again : "ye shall haste" (ver. 13). It is all hot haste.
A GLAD FATHER. 221
to relieve the aged Patriarch's anxiety, and cheer his long
darkened soul with tidings of great joy, — to tell him of his
long lost son's greatness and glory, — and above all, to bring
him to that son's embrace, and place him in peace and plenty
under his fostering care ; " Haste ye, and go up to my father,
and say unto him. Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made
me lord of all Egypt : come down unto me, tarry not." " I
will nourish thee." " And behold your eyes see, and the eyes
of my brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh
unto you. And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in
Egypt, and of all that ye have seen ; and ye shall haste and
bring do^^^l my father hither" (ver. 9-13).
Surely this is a message which it may well cost these men
tears of penitential sorrow to receive, as it must cost them
tears of shame to deliver it. Such love as Jacob's for his son,
and Joseph's for his father, it has not hitherto entered into
their minds to conceive. And it is such love that they have
been so deeply and cruelly w^ounding. It is a new measure
they now get, by which to estimate their crime. It is some-
what of the nature of that insight which, through the Spirit's
teaching, the smitten soul gets into the mutual love of the
Father and the Son ; an insight that gives hitherto unimagined
significancy to the dread transaction between them which guilt
made necessary, and into the exceeding sinfulness of sin as
causinof that state of thiuG^s between the Father and the Son,
of which the cry upon the cross is the expression — " My God,
my God, why hast thou forsaken me ! " — making it needful for
the son to become " an outcast from his God," and needful for
the Father to say, " Awake, 0 sword, against my Shepherd ! "
— and all in love, 0 my soul, to thee !
And then, what a message for these men to deliver ! To
look their injured father in the face and tell him of the long
lie by which they have made his old age miserable ; to recant
the mean and cruel falsehood ; to confess all their dark deed
,of villany ; thus to disclose and undo the past — what a humilia-
222 A TRUE BROTHER — A GENEROUS KING.
tion ! They had need to be furnished with a gospel of the
best sort, — glad tidings of great joy, — to overcome their
abashed embarrassment in speaking to Joseph's father con-
cerning Joseph.
Joseph himself seems to feel this. And, accordingly, he
is at great pains to encourage them. Again and again he
resumes the task. He would have them to turn their eyes
away from themselves to him, — from their own sin and
shame, to his glorious saving power. You see me, he cries ;
" your eyes see." It is no delusion ; I am not a spirit, or a
ghost ; I am your own brother, raised up by God to tliis
height of princely dignity on very purpose to be your saAiour.
" Your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin."
He believes me ; why should not you ? True, you may feel
that you have -WTonged me, and sinned against me, as
Benjamin never did ; you have that to answer for with which
his conscience is not burdened. But what of that 1 I make
no distinction now between him and you. I do not place
you at a disadvantage. " Your eyes see," as well as " the
eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that
speaketh unto you" (ver. 12); — not to him only, — but to
you as well, — and speaketh to you peace. It is I who speak
to you, — not now through an interpreter, as if I could
address you only in a strange tongue ; — but plainly, — face
to face, — mouth to mouth. And I speak to you, not to
upbraid you with the past, but to send you on what, in spite
of all the past, should be a pleasant errand now. Return
home, to your o^m house, and tell what great things God has
"wrought. Be not disconcerted or dismayed. Let your
faltering tongue, overcoming all your natural misgi\ings,
give forth its errand : " Ye shall tell my father of all my
glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen ; and ye shall
haste and bring down my father hither" (ver. 13). This
grateful ofl&ce rendered to him will obliterate the dark
memory of every old offence. If the new insight you have
A GLAD FATHER. 223
got into my father's love for me, and mine for him, aggra-
vates your distress when you think of the breach you have
caused, — let it console you to be partakers of the joy that
there is in our meeting, father and son, now that all that pain
is over.
But not even yet is Joseph satisfied that he has done
enough. Still fresh tokens of his heart's love are lavished on
Benjamin and on them all, — kisses and tears : " He fell
upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept ; and Benjamin
wept upon his neck. Moreover he kissed all his brethren,
and wept upon them" (ver. 14, 15). Nor will he leave
off kissing them all and weeping with them, pouring out
his soul in a flood of sympathy, until he has fairly van-
quished all their fear, and brought them to converse freely,
boldly, familiarly : " after that, his brethren talked with him "
(ver. 15).
Ah ! truly, Joseph is the model of what a brother ought
to be, " a brother born for adversity ! " He is the sort of
brother you need in your deep grief, ye sin-sick, sin-laden,
sorrow-laden children — the fitting type of the brother you
have in the well-beloved Son of the Father ! He is never
weary of speaking peace to you, — assuring you that he
remembers not any wrong of yours against him ; that the
blood which your sin shed cleanseth that sin away ; that he
whom you crucified is at God's right hand, mighty to save !
How is he ever striving, by his word and Spirit, to reveal
himself to you, and to get you to see him ! How does he
raise you from the dust and set you on a rock th.at you may
sound his praise ! How does he plead with you and expostulate
with you, that you may lay aside all your doubts and hesitancy,
and believe him when he talks with you, and bids you go on
your way to the Father rejoicing! How does he kiss you
and weep with you, — loading you with tenderest caresses, —
refusing to be content until you, his brethren^ take heart, and
summon courage, — to "talk with him."
224 A TRUE BROTHER — A GENEROUS KING.
" To talk with him ! " Yes ! For tliat is what he wants
— what alone can prove that all at last is right between him
and you — that there is no more dislike, or jealousy, or sus-
picion, or servile dread — that you do indeed now know him,
and trust him, and love him, as a brother. He would not
merely talk affectionately with you — he would have you to
talk confidingly and confidentially with him. That is what
alone could satisfy Joseph. It is what alone will satisfy your
Joseph, your Jesus. Eeceive then his kindly advances.
Believe his gracious words. Let him show himself to you, and
embrace you and sympathise with you. " And after that," as
" his brethren," " talk with him." Frankly, unreservedly, in
the confidence of brotherly familiarity, talk with him ; of his
Father and your Father, of the house with many mansions, of
the coming joy of the re-united family's home-meeting there ;
or of his past experience in his humiliation ; or of your own
present experience in your sin and sorrow ; or of his kingdom ;
or of your own grief ; or of duty ; or of trial ; or of death ;
or of his church; or of your own household and friends.
Only talk with him, ye brethren of his, of all, of anything,
that may interest him and you. He refuses to let you go
until you "talk with him."
II. On this occasion, the conduct of Pharaoh is princely
,and truly noble. It is in keeping with all that we read of
this illustrious monarch — surely no ordinary specimen of the
race of oriental kings, as we are apt to conceive of them. The
grace and generosity of his cordial congratulation is at once a
pleasing proof of the high place which Joseph's wise fidelity
has won for him in his royal master's esteem, and a refresh-
ing instance of the king's own goodness of heart — his kindly
nature — his grateful appreciation of true and honest service ;
" And the fame thereof was heard in Pharaoh's house, saying,
Joseph's brethren are come : and it pleased Pharaoh well, and
,his servants" (ver. IG).
The discovery of his vizier's lineage and family connections
A GLAD FATHER. 225
might have been distasteful to a sovereign of narrow mind.
The melting scene of kissing and tears might have awakened,
in the stern bosom of a tyrant, no other emotion than con-
tempt for such womanish weakness. The liberty which Joseph
took in disposing, as it Avould seem, upon his own authority,
of Egypt's territory, and alienating what he chose of it to a
strange tribe, might have been resented as the insolence of
upstart greatness. But it is not so. Pharaoh is above all such
petty jealousies; — he delights in the story which he hears; — its
romance excites him and its pathos touches him. He has
thorough sympathy with his favourite, who has served him so
well, in this new and strange turn of fortune, as well as in all
the varied experience that has gone before and prepared the way
for it. And he carries the whole court along with him in his
sympathy. Joseph's proposed arrangements for his father's
and his family's accommodation are approved of warmly, and
promptly seconded (ver. 17-20). The king in fact cannot do
enough to testify his regard for Joseph. Not only is there to
be a goodly portion of Egypt's best awaiting the acceptance of
Jacob and his house, when they come from Canaan ; it is
the monarch's pride and pleasure to undertake the whole
charge of the removal. And all expedition must be used.
Whatever conveyances are needed for the little ones and the
wives, Egypt is to supply them, that no time may be lost in
preparing to start from Canaan. Nor is the packing of the
household goods to be suffered to cause delay. There is no
need to care for the stuff. Let it be abandoned and left
behind, rather than that there should be any tarrying. Why
be burdened with such impediments 1 Let the old man, and
all wdio live with him, come quickly. Let them come them-
selves, and make a bonfire of their furniture and property, or
a legacy to their neighbours. Why should they be troubled
about these things, wdien " the good of all the land of Egypt is
theirs, and they may eat the fat of it V So impatient is this
VOL, IL Q
226 A TRUE BROTHER — A GENEROUS KING.
right-hearted, large-hearted prmce to carry out the hospitable
thouo-hts on which he is intent.
It must have been with deeply gratified feelings that
Joseph came forth from his interview with so kind a master,
and proceeded to give his final instructions to his departing
brethren. Such confidence as is reposed in him, such sym-
pathy as is shown with him, such royal bountifulness, may
well repay years of suffering and toil. Frankly he acknow-
ledges and accepts Pharaoh's liberality, and faithfully he
executes his commands. His brethren are now thoroughly
furnished and equipped with all necessaries for their journey
and return (ver. 21-23). Thereafter, with one parting word
of admonition, Joseph dismisses them in peace ; " So he sent
his brethren away, and they departed : and he said unto
them, See that ye fall not out by the way " (ver. 24).
Is there a quaint dash of humour in this significant hint :
" See that ye fall not out by the way 1 " — a touch of sly, sar-
castic, good-natured irony ? Xay, it is no time, — and Joseph
has no heart, — for that. There is a graver, deeper, better,
meaning in what he says. These brethren of his have been
getting a new lesson in the school of love, — in the divme
faculty of holy charity. They have just come to the know-
ledge of a kind and degree of love, of which they had no con-
ception before. For in truth love like Joseph's to his father
and his brethren is a new thing to them. The very idea of it
is new. Hence they are so slow to take it in, to understand
it, — to believe that it can be real. But they have been got
to see it and to feel it. They have now some insight into
Joseph's open heart. He has given them such discoveries of
what is in it that they can stand out incredulous no longer.
Love so tender and so true ; so prodigal of self ; so mindful
of all but self ; so self-sacrificing and self-forgetting ; so meek,
so merciful, so mild, so melting ; love that can so forgive, and
pity, and embrace, and weep ; love that will take no denial
and suffer no repulse, but will have the loved ones, almost in
A GLAD FATHER. 227
their o^vn despite, in its embrace ; Joseph's love ; the love of
Joseph's heart ; has found entrance into their long frozen
hearts, and opened the warm fountains of tears and gladness
there. Forgiven much, they love much. Joseph they love
as they never thought to have loved a living being before ;
and they love one another as they never loved one another
before. But it is a new affection. They are novices and raw
recruits in this discipline of charity. The old nature in them
may still be apt to get the better of the new creation. They
may well therefore be grateful for that deep, love-thrilling,
voice of admonition, " See that ye fall not out by the way."
" A new commandment," says the Lord, " I give unto you,
That ye love one another ; as I have loved you, that ye also
love one another" (John xiii. 34). Like Joseph's brethren, if
you have been moved to believe in Jesus, you have been taking
a new lesson in the way of loving. You have become ac-
quainted with a style and manner of love far transcending even
Joseph's. The love of Jesus ! AYho can know it 1 But some-
thing of it you know. Experimentally you know it. For
have you not bathed his feet with your tears, and wiped them
with the hairs of your head ? Have you not heard his voice,
"Neither do I condemn thee'"? Have you not looked to him
lifted up on the cross, laying down his life for you ]
Yes. It is a new commandment, — to love as he loves. And
its observance among yourselves, and towards all men, is with
you the growth of a new nature. Take therefore always in
good part every warning against the risk of this new-born
grace of love or charity giving way, under the irksome annoy-
ances of the road you have to travel, and the infirmities of the
brethren with whom you have to travel it. See that ye " walk
in love, as Christ also loved you, and gave himself for you an
offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet smelling savour "
(Eph. V. 2). " See that ye fall not out by the way."
III. The arrival of the brethren at their father's house in
Canaan, closes this touching scene — "They went up out of
228 A TRUE BROTHER— A GENEROUS KING.
Egypt, and came into the land of Canaan unto Jacob their
father, and told him, saying, Joseph is yet alive, and he is
governor over all the land of Egypt" (ver. 25, 26).
The ^patriarch's reception of their news is simply told ; —
" Jacob's heart fainted, for he believed them not" (ver. 26). He
believed them not. Is it for very joy — as it is said of the
assembled disciples, when they saw the risen Lord, and his
jiierced hands and feet, that they yet believed not for joy 1
Or is it that he cannot trust their truthfulness 1 And yet the
fact that they are all there, — Simeon and Benjamin and all of
them, — may attest what they tell. However they may have
deceived him before, can he fail to see evidence in their whole
manner now that they are giving him a true report 1 Nay, it
is enough to say that under this new excess of emotion the
old man's heart fainted. For a time he could not take the
tidings in ; they cpiite overwhelmed and overmastered him.
And no marvel. He has to undo the past of years. He has
to turn l^ack the whole tide and current of his feelings, from
the dismal day when he accepted as a fact Joseph's death,
and began to make up his mind to a stern and sad submission.
For the rest of acquiescence in a fixed and certain doom, is
now to be suddenly exchanged for the restless agitation of re-
viving hope. At once everything is unsettled again and in
suspense. The very idea of its being possible that Joseph may
be yet alive, is more than the old man's shattered nerves can
stand ; " His heart fainted."
But he rallies, and can listen to their detailed account of
the whole wondrous providence they have to report ; " And
they told him all the words of Joseph, which he had said unto
them" (ver. 27). Gradually his mind is strengthened to take
it all in. Piecemeal, as it were, or bit by bit, the reality of
the strange transactions of which he hears becomes more and
more j)alpable. The actual sight of the conveyances provided
for carrying him and his house bodily to Egypt, helps him to
realise as true what looks so like a tale or a dream (ver. 27).
A GLAD FATHER. 229
It is no imagination, no vision, no deception ; the visible,
tangible, sensible, evidences of the fact are there before his
eyes. The spirit of the aged and tried believer revives. He
can still believe, — and find that " all things are possible to
him that belie veth." He is still Israel, — nay, now again he is
more than ever Israel, — strong to prevail with God. " Israel
said. It is enough ; Joseph my son is yet alive : I will go and
see him before I die" (ver. 28). It is as Israel that he says
this. It is as Israel that he rises to the emergency, — and
shakes off the fainting helplessness of unbelief. " His spirit "
revives to the obedience of faith, " It is enoudi ;" — and to
the joy of faith, " Joseph my son is yet alive ;" — and to the
walk of faith, " I will go and see him before I die."
Thus the patriarch again approves himself to be worthy of
the name of Israel. For I cannot but think that there is a
meaning in the use of this name, at this crisis. There is a
remarkable change here from Jacob to Israel. " Jacob's heart
fainted" at first; but "Israel said. It is enough." As Jacob,
the patriarch has been weak, — apt to say, as he refuses to be
comforted, "I will go down into the grave unto my son
mourning," — or " all these things are against me," — or " me
ye have bereaved," or "ye shall bring down my gray hairs
with sorrow into the grave." Occasionally he has been roused
to an exercise of his wonted strength of faith, — as when, after
much hesitation, " Israel their father" consented to risk
Benjamin with his brothers into Egypt. He has doubtless
been disciplining himself into submission to the sovereign
hand of God, learning to be still and know that he is God, —
to be dumb, not opening his mouth, for God hath done it.
But he has been despondent still, — fearful of evil, — slow to
take in the fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace, —
ready to imagine, even when he hears good news, that it may
be too good news to be true. Now however he is Israel once
more. He will doubt no longer. Is anything too hard for
the Lord ? Has he not, even in the Lord's wrestling with
230 A TRUE BROTHER A GENEROUS KING, ETC.
him, overcome 1 Is not this the answer to many a prayer for
light on the dark dealings of the Lord with him 1 Is it not
an answer infinitely beyond what he could ask or think 1
"At evening time" there is to be "light" indeed! (Zech.
xiv. 7). " They told him all the words of Joseph ; and when
he saw the waggons which Joseph had sent to carry him,
the spirit of Jacob their father revived ; and Israel said, It is
enough ; Joseph my son is yet alive : I will go and see him
before I die" (ver. 27, 28).
1
I
FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT. 231
LXI.
FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT— CANAAN LEFT
FOR JUDGEMENT.
Genesis xlvi. 1-27.
Israel also came into Egypt ; and Jacob sojourned in the land of Ham. —
Ps. ev. 23.
Thou knewest not the time of thy visitation. — Luke xix. 44.
Egypt is now to be for a long period, measured by centuries,
the home or refuge of God's chosen Israel, in order that, in
the fulness of time, a signal historical event may become a
significant Messianic prophecy. To Moses, the Lord said :
" Thou shalt say unto Pharaoh, thus saith the Lord, Israel is
my son, even my first-born ; and I say unto thee. Let my son
go that he may serve me" (Exod. iv. 22, 23). By the mouth
of Hosea, the Lord says : " When Israel was a child, then I
loved him, and called my son out of Egypt" (Hosea xi. 1).
And the inspired Evangelist interprets and applies the sym-
bolic prediction. Mary's husband " arose, took the young child
and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt ; and was there
until the death of Herod, that it might be fulfilled which was
spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have
I called my son" (Matt. ii. 14, 15). To lay a foundation for
this divine oracle, involving as it does a great general principle
of the divine administration, — that salvation comes through
suff'ering, lil^erty through service, life through death, — the
descent of the holy family into Egypt is ordained.
Jacob yields to the solicitation of Joseph, and the in vita-
232 FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT.
tion of Pharaoh. He makes up his mind to leave Canaan ;
and that, not for a short personal visit merely to his son in
Egypt, but for a protracted sojourn of his whole household
there. They are to be established and domesticated for long
generations on the banks of the Nile. In all this Jacob
exercises faith. It is by faith that he goes down, with all his
children, into Egypt. It is by faith that he takes the step
wdiich is to prove so critical, not for himself only, but for the
people and nation of which he is the head ; by faith having
for its object, not merely a human message or testimony, how-
ever cheering and consoling, but a divine warrant.
This is made palpable by the transaction between him
and his covenant-God which marks his departure from the
land of promise, and his committal of himself and his house to
a strange country (ver. 1-4). The scene of the transaction is
fitly chosen ; it is Beersheba, — on the confines of the sacred
territory. There Abraham made a covenant by oath with his
neighbour Abimelech, the Philistine King of Gerar ; — planting
a grove, and calling upon the name of Jehovah the everlasting
God (xxi. 22, 23). He was dwelling at Beersheba when the
great trial of his faith took place, in the matter of the com-
mand to sacrifice Isaac (xxii.) At Beersheba, in the clays of
Isaac, the transaction with the king of Gerar, whence its name
was derived, was in a remarkable manner repeated (xxvi.) It
was for the most part Isaac's home, where he was residing
when he blessed Jacob and Esau (xxviii.) It was afterwards
a border city, marking one of the limits of the land of Israel
(Judges XX. 1). Jacob probably lived near it, and had occa-
sion to pass through it on his way to Egypt.
He pauses there. The place reminds him of his father
Isaac, and of his father's habitual fear and worship of God.
If he has been moved to undertake the journey on Joseph's
invitation and at the entreaty of his other sons, relying on
Pharaoh's royal honour, — and as yet with too little consulta-
tion and prayer for ascertaining the mil and seeking the
CAX.i.lN LEFT FOR JUDGMENT. 233
countenance of the Lord, — he feels his'need of this at Beer-
sheba. He cannot pass a spot hallowed by so many pious
memories, and so full of the associations of his father's house ;
he cannot quit the last corner of the holy land of promise on
which his foot is to stand ; he cannot bid a final farewell to
Canaan, the country promised to his race ; — at his age, it must
be a final farewell ; — without a solemn renewal of his covenant
with the Lord, — without waiting for a renewal of the covenant
on the part of the Lord himself. Therefore " he offered sacri-
fices unto the God of his father Isaac. And God spake unto
Israel in the visions of the night, and said, Jacob, Jacob. And
he said, Here am I" (ver. 1, 2).
The burden of the divine communication is, " Fear not to
go down into Egypt" (ver. 3). For there was cause of fear in
Jacob's circumstances ; — there might well be fear in Jacob's
heart. It was a hazardous movement on which he was ven-
turing. To flit and change his place of residence at all, at so
great an age, is of itself a trial. Leave me to repose, the much
vexed and weary patriarch might have said ; let Joseph come
to visit me, and bring such tokens of his filial love as he may
choose. But why must I unsettle all my ways of life, lift my
feet from the very side of the quiet ancestral grave in which I
long to rest, and undertake toil and travel from which my
tottering frame shrinks, to become in my last days a stranger
amono; stransrers of a strans-e and foreim tonojue? Then, is it
safe to reckon on security in that strange land ] Joseph's
aff'ection may be sure, but his life is precarious. His heart
towards me may be trusted, but is the king's heart towards
him to be equally relied on ? A sudden caprice in the monarch's
breast, or a sudden revolution in his realms, or an. invading foe,
or a change of dynasty, or any one of many possible, nay pro-
bable, contingencies, may change Joseph's seat near the throne
to his old bed in prison, as abru^^tly as the prison was exchanged
for the throne. And where then is Israel 1 It can be no cause
of wonder to find Jacob at Beersheba beginning to be afraid.
234 FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT.
The first eagerness of his desire to go to Joseph, the first
excitement of the good news from a far country on the strengtli
of which he has been persuaded to go, — may well be giving
place to certain anxieties and ominous alarms, as he now more
calmly considers the risks and dangers of his undertaking.
Especially he might be apt to fear, as he called to mind the
dark prophecy with which he must have been familiar, which
held suspended over his house the doom of a long and bitter
subjection to a foreign foe. He could not but have fresh in his
memory and before his eye, at Beersheba, the scene of that
memorable night when the Lord appeared to Abraham and
justified him as a believer (xv). Jacob is probably on the very
spot where Abraham then lay. In spirit, as he recalls the past,
and is in Abraham's place ; — in the midst, as his fancy puts
it, of the materials of Abraham's sacrifice ; — that ominous voice
of w^oe, — " thy seed shall be a stranger," — " shall serve," —
"shall be afflicted four hundred years," — is sounding in his
ears. Is the time come 1 Is he, under the impulse of natural
aff"ection sorely tried, and now at last longing to be gratified,
bringing on the fulfilment of that terrible oracle 1 Ah ! he
may well tremble, and shrink, — and hesitate on the brink, —
and almost resolve to turn back.
But the Lord says, "Fear not." (1.) Fear not, for " I am
God, the God of thy father." I am God the Almighty, ha^dng
all power ; and I am thy father's God, pledged in covenant to
make all things work together for good to his seed and thine.
(2.) Fear not, for " I will there make of thee a great nation ;"
not here, but there ; in Egypt. Thy going down into Egypt
does not frustrate, it fulfils my purpose. It may be a trial, and
the beginning of trials ; but it is an indispensable preliminary
to the triumph. (3.) Fear not, for " I will go down with thee
unto Egypt." " I A\dll not leave thee nor forsake thee." What-
ever ill may there await thee or thy seed, " I will not leave
you comfortless ; I will come unto you." (4.) Fear not, for if
I send thee and go with thee, " I will also surely bring thee up
CANAAN LEFT FOR JUDGMENT. 235
again," In thy posterity, in the great nation I am to make of
thee, I will bring thee up again. And even thyself personally I
will bring up. Thy bones shall not rest in Egypt ; they shall be
laid here, in Canaan. And in the resurrection thou shalt
inherit the land. (5.) Fear not, finally, though the years of
thy pilgrimage are to close in death, far off from the holy land.
For, as I said to Abraham on that awful night, " Thou shalt go
to thy fathers in peace," — so say I to thee, — Thou shalt fall
asleep in peace, in the arms of thy beloved, — " Joseph shall
put his hand upon thine eyes" (ver. 3, 4). " Fear not," there-
fore, "thou worm Jacob" (Is. xli. 14).
Reassured by so gracious and seasonable a vision — now
strong in faith as the Israel of God — the patriarch pursues his
journey (ver. 5-7). Nothing occurs by the way deserving no-
tice— no incident or adventure of any interest. "All his
seed brought he with him into Egypt."
Thus the descent into Egypt is accomplished. It is a
critical era in the history of the chosen race. And it is there-
fore only natural that occasion should at this stage be taken
for a sort of census, that may bring out its exact state, as re-
gards the gross number of which it is composed, and the seve-
ral tribes into which it is to be distributed.
The list or catalogue given of Israel's family (ver. 8-27)
has occasioned considerable difficulty. In the first place, the
number seventy (ver. 27), while it agrees with that given
in other parts of the Hebrew Pentateuch (Exod. 1-5 ; Deut.
10-22), differs from that given by Stephen, in his defence be-
fore the Sanhedrim (Acts vii. 14). He makes it seventy-five,
according to the Greek Translation of the Old Testament then
in common use. The names also are somewhat peri^lexing.
A minute examination of them, and a comparison of this list
with two other enumerations of the original heads of the
Jewish communit}^, apparently somewhat parallel or cognate
to this one (Num. xxvi. ; 1 Chron. ii.-viii.), suggest questions
236 FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT.
of identity not easily solved. And the mention of two females,
and only two, Dinah (ver. 15) and Serah (ver. 17), is em-
barrassing. Great labour and research have been expended by
learned men on the clearing up of these perplexing points of
detail — and much ingenuity has been exercised — not altogether
with a satisfactory result. This should not be either a sur-
prise or a stumbling-block to any candid mind ; and that, as I
think, for two sufficient reasons.*
1. It is very obvious that in a book like the Bible, com-
posed and compiled at sundry times and in diverse manners,
and containing varied and minute chronologies and genealogies,
there must be many things that would be better understood,
and could be more easily explained long ago, at the time, than
they can be now ; just as we believe, from its prophetic charac-
ter, that there may be some of these very things that will come
to be more clear, in themselves and in their use, as the end of
all draws near. Meamvhile we need not be greatly troubled
if we have to confess that not a few knotty questions of the
sort indicated defy satisfactory solution.
* For more particular satisfaction, tlie following additional remarks
may be useful. (1.) Nowhere is tliere a greater likelihood of errors having
crept into the sacred text, through careless or ignorant copying of manu-
scripts, than in lists of proper names and such like — and nowhere is it less
easy to discover or correct the errors by sound criticism. (2.) The i)rin-
ciples upon which these genealogical trees or tables were constructed among
the Israelites, can be only very imperfectly known or conjectured. For
generations before the writing of the books of Moses, they must have been
traditionally preserved by being handed down in the chosen family — per-
haps embodied in current song or poetry — some of them even committed,
in a rude fragmentary way, to public or domestic registers, or records of
some sort. They were i^robably not meant to be exhaustive, or to compre-
hend all the individuals concerned. A selection was apparently made of
heads, or chiefs, or leading persons — and so made, for the most part, as,
for the sake of easy memory, to give a round number rather than a fractional
or broken one. (3.) Here, for instance, in particular, it is not conceivable
CANAAN LEFT FOR JUDGMENT. 237
2. We must allow to men writing under the inspiration of
the Spirit the same liberty of using current popular phrase-
ology, and stating matters of notoriety in the customary way,
that we would concede to any honest author in the like cir-
cumstances. Such an author does not scruple to give the
round numbers, and broad, brief summaries, artificially framed
as helps to memory, or as making a neat scheme or system in
the story or the genealogy, — when these are the familiar
modes of reckoning among his readers, and when, as they
stand, they sufficiently answer the purpose he has in view.
If he w^ere not to do so, if he were not to be thus far accom-
modating to prevalent usage, if he were to affect a minute,
martinet, and punctilious accuracy, even down to trifling
details of that sort ; — altering when there was no real occasion
for it, and as if for mere alteration's sake, commonly received
versions of familiar records and traditions ; — not only would
he be justly chargeable with a certain prudish pedantry, but
he would fatally damage his chance of acceptance and useful-
ness among the people. The liberty which any honest writer
would exercise in such particulars, ought not to be denied to
one writing by inspiration. The Spirit, superintending what
tliat there were only two women in Israel deserving of mention u^Don tlie
occasion of tlie settlement in Egypt. We read (ver. 5-7) of Jacob's daugh-
ters, and the wives and daughters of his sons ; and again of Jacob's sous'
wives (ver. 27), as being over and above the seventy. The presumption is
that as for the most jjart heads of future houses in Israel are here singled
out, so there may have been others at the time equally conspicuous of
whom no mention is made. (4. ) Probably the number seventy or seventy-
five — for evidently it was not held to be material which of the two was
preferred^ — ^was technical and artificial, if we may so speak — not intended
to be an exact historical enumeration, but a kind of convenient, shorthand
summary — representing clearly enough to the successive generations of
Israelites the state of the household at the time of the settlement in Egypt
— and capable of easy application to the more complete and regular ar-
rangement of the tribes, whether on their coming out of Egypt, or in the
wilderness, or in Canaan.
238 FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT.
is written, and making himself responsible for every word of
it, is not bound to make the author whom he inspires more
of a pedant in point of accuracy than you or I would choose
to be, in alluding to old histories, c[uoting old books, and
using old registers and recollections.
The essential element in the narrative here is, that a mere
handful of men and women was all Israel, — as it went doT^ii
into 'Egypt. Very slowly hitherto had the chosen race increased.
Abraham, after he was told that his seed was to out-number
the stars and the sand, had to wait for years before his one
chosen child of promise came. Sixty years after, Jacob was
born ; and another interval of at least eighty j^ears elapsed
before he became a father. For nearly two centuries the
promise to Abraham hung by a single, often a doubtful, thread.
Even now, after another half century, — when the j^eriod of his
seed's bondage in a strange land, of which Abraham had been
warned, is about to begin to run, — it is a single family that
migrates from Canaan to Egypt, — as much so as when Abra-
ham, in the character of a patriarchal chief, led and ruled his
household at the first. There is scarcely yet the incipient
form or outward aspect of a tribe. The idea of a great nation
is still in the clouds.
Did any such idea occur to Pharaoh, when he sanctioned
and enforced so warmly his prime minister Joseph's in^^itation?
AVas it a permanent settlement of Joseph's kinsmen in his
dominions that he had in view ? Did he contemplate their
growing into a distinct people, preserving their nationality,
and becoming formidable for their numbers ? Or did he mean
that their sojourn in his realm should be short, — limited to
the duration of the famine which occasioned it 1 Or, if he
wished them to stay longer, did he anticipate their getting
merged and lost in the general mass of Egypt's teeming popu-
lation? "Who can tell? In all likelihood Pharaoh had no
fixed purpose or expectation about the matter at all. Joseph
CAXAAN LEFT FOR JUDGMENT. 239
was a favourite, and lie was glad to show kindness to Joseph's
father and brethren. Joseph, while conforming to Egyptian
usages in things civil, has retained his own peculiar religious no-
tions and practices ; his father and his brethren may very likely
do the same. The king does not care much about the matter ;
he does not look far before him. He little dreams of what
fruit the tiny seed now planted in his land is to bear ; he
knows not he is unconsciously fulfilling the divine decree.
Has Jacob, or have his sons, or any one of them, — Joseph
for insta,nce, — any clearer insight ? Or are they all led like
the blind by a way that they know not 1 Joseph probably
has as yet no suspicion that he is bringing the family down to
Egypt for such a destiny as awaits them ; he simply desires to
have them with him to share the sunshine of royal favour.
His heart is in Canaan, which he believes to be the heritage
of his house. In his care at the first about their dwelling
apart, — not less than in his care at last about his own bones,
— we see evidence of his faith in the promise made to Abra-
ham. But in bringing his father's family into Egypt he
little reckons on the long interval that is to elapse before
Canaan is again reached. And his brethren, in this whole
affair, seem to have Avalked all along by sense rather than by
foith.
But Jacob was a believer in regard to it. He had in view
the fulfilment in Egypt of that prophecy of mingled weal and
woe which Abraham received ; — about his seed growing into
a great nation ; and about their doing so under oppression
calling ultimately for the signal vengeance of the Most High
against their oppressors. It needed a strong faith to sustain
aged Israel in taking a step thus pregnant with so much evil.
He does not take it in ignorance ; his eyes are open to all its
issues. But he is cheered by the assurance of a glorious, joy-
ous, return home at last, — and by the hope, meanwhile, of
having Joseph to close his eyes in peace.
240 FAITH QUITTING CANAAN FOR EGYPT.
And now Canaan has no longer within its borders the leaven
of God's chosen seed, but is left to its old inhabitants, until their
iniquities shall be full. Not a foot of the soil beyond a
sepulchre, the sepulchre which Abraham l:)ought from the sons
of Hetli ; — for the well which he got j^y treaty with Abimelech
at Beersheba, and the parcel of ground which Jacob bought,
were both of them uncertain possessions at this time, and need
not be taken into account ; — save a sepulchre, then, not an
inch of the territory belonged to the departing family. All
connection with the land is broken off. Once only, at the
burial of Jacob, is there any revisiting of its borders. And
thereafter it is all as if never foot of a Gocl-fearin.o; man, or a
God-fearing family, had trod its soil.
"O
What traces, what memories, what influences have the
Israel of God bequeathed, now that the time of their sojourn
is for the present over ] Alas ! how much is there to humble
and sadden them, if they will but pause and think, as they
cast their last look on the plains and on the people they are
leaving behind them ! Crimes and sins of heinous dye, —
instances of unbelief in God and conformity to an ungodly
world, — unbrotherly dissensions, — unneighbourly revenges, —
scandals, stumbling-blocks, which their evil lusts and j)assions
have put in the way of those whom a consistent walk, and
holy example, and pure and warm charity, might have won ; —
such recollections may well overwhelm them with bitter shame
and sorrow, as they bid a final adieu to the scenes of their long
sojourn in the land of their pilgrimage. Some recollections of
piety and love will doubtless linger, when they are gone, among
the people who have been the witnesses of their walk. But ah !
how dimly has their light been shining ! How uncertain a
sound has their trumpet been giving ! It would have been
good for them, during the years of their witness-bearing for
God among ungodly men, had they been anticipating the day
when that witness-bearing must cease, and had they asked
CANAAN LEFT FOR JUDGMENT. 241
themselves beforehand how then, at its close, they would be
able to stand the retrospect!
Surely, for every church, for every behever, there is a
lesson here. I must soon quit the place that now knows me,
and quit it for ever. What savour, of death unto death, or
of life unto life, will my occupancy of it leave when it is over,
when I am gone, — and the place that now knoAVS me knows
me no more 1
VOL. II,
242 ISRAEL'S WELCOME IN EGYPT.
LXIL
ISRAEL'S WELCOME IN EGYPT-^TO BE KEPT THERE
TILL THE TIME COMES.
Genesis xlyi. 28 — xlvii. 10.
The Lord sliall be known in 'Egy-pt. — Isaiah xis. 20.
Taking together the end of one chapter and the beginnmg of
another, we have an incident complete in itself, and of great
significancy, as regards the purpose of God in the develop-
ment of his church's history. The chosen seed, like " a corn
of wheat," is to " fall into the ground and die," in order that
after many dsijs it may "bring forth much fruit" (John xii.
24). The long underground concealment of the Egyptian
sojourn and captivity, preparatory to the great resurrection of
the nation at the time of the Exodus, is now about to begin.
And the manner of its commencement is to be clearly marked.
It is to be no obscure and stealthy midnight movement, but
an honourable transaction, signalised in high places, — as was
the burial of Jesus, when Joseph of Arimathea got Pilate's
consent to pay all respect, along with Mcodemus, to the body
of the crucified. Thus Jacob is received, on his arrival in
Egj^pt, with all honour, first, by his son Joseph (xlvi. 28-34),
and next by the king (xlvii. 1-10).
Joseph's reception of his father and brethren is both
affectionate and politic. There is in it the warm, gushing
affection of a loving son and brother ; but there is in it also
the sagacious policy of a prince and ruler, who has to manage
TO BE KEPT THERE TILL THE TIME COMES. 243
the affair on hand, as one of government and diplomacy, with
a sound and wise discretion. Jacob makes his entry, as it
would seem, wdth some measure of state. Either by way of
precaution, or to show that he comes as an independent patri-
archal chief, he abstains from going at once direct to his son.
He is to make it manifest from the first, before the eyes of all
the Eg}^ptians, that while he comes on Joseph's invitation, he
does not come to occupy a subordinate position ; — as if he
and his household were to be mere hangers on, as it were, in
Joseph's palace, to swell the number of his attendants, and be
simply pensioners at his table. That is not Joseph's own
desire or design. He wishes his father to take his proper
place, as the acknowledged and honoured head of a distinct
patriarchal community. Accordingly a suitable residence has
been prepared and set apart for him in Goshen, — and thither
Jacob turns aside (ver. 28).
From thence, in due form, he sends Judah as an ambas-
sador to announce his arrival to Joseph (ver. 28). There is
evidently something of the nature of courtly ceremony here, —
as there is also in Joseph's stately manner of approach to
Jacob ; he " made ready his chariot, and went up to meet
Israel his father to Goshen, and presented himself unto him "
(ver. 29). It may have been to keep up appearances before
the Egyptians that this was thus arranged ; if so, it Avas pro-
bably a wise policy.
All policy, however, is forgotten when son and father meet :
"He fell on his neck, and wept on his neck a good while"
(ver. 29). It is all nature now ; and it is nature, as is nature's
wont, with much matter in little bulk ; — a whole scene com-
pressed into a few words, — and these the simplest.
To enlarge here would be presumptuous.
No w^eeping like that of Joseph, lasting " a good while,"
— if we take in all the circumstances ; the early fondness, the
long, long separation, the wondrous re-union ; — no such weep-
ing anytime or anywhere else, except when " Jesus wept!"
244 Israel's \^t:lcome in egypt.
And only once again is the resistless pathos of Jacob's plain-
tive word of acquiescence paralleled ; — " Now let me die, since
I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive !" — once and
once only, — in the " Nunc Dimittis ;" " Lord, now lettest thou
thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word ; for mine
eyes have seen thy salvation."
But Joseph is a ruler, as well as a son and brother ; in
the capacity of ruler he must make due provision for the emer-
gency that has occurred. Nor is that so easy as might at first
appear. If it were only the hospitable entertainment of his
kindred that he had to look to, it would be no difficult task
to provide for that. He stands so well with the king, and has
such absolute command over all the resources of the kingdom,
that he can at once secure for his kinsmen all honourable ac-
commodation in the house and court of Pharaoh. But that is
not enough for him ; it is not what he wants. He is willing
that his father's family should cast in their lot with him in
Egypt. But the dizzy height of his own preferment does not
blind his eyes to the necessity of placing them, if it be possible,
on a footing which they may maintain, independently of his
own precarious favour with the king, or the king's successors.
Nor is he insensible, we may well suj^pose, to the satisfaction
of being himself discovered to be one of a family for whom he
can claim an independent standing. He would have those
whom he is introducing to a share in his exaltation established,
as a peculiar people, in the possession of a territory of their
own. Hence his care beforehand as to the manner of their
introduction to Pharaoh. He proposes to take advantage of
their business being that of shepherds, to secure for them the
separate habitation in the fertile region of Goshen which it is
his aim that they shall have. He will even make his own
use — for their good — of the ill repute in which their occuj^ation
is held: "for every shepherd is an abomination unto the
Egy|)tians " (ver. 33, 34).
What special reason there was for this antipathy is not
TO BE KEPT THERE TILL THE TIME COMES. 245
Scaid. It may have been the recollection of some recent inva-
sion of a shepherd tribe from the desert. Or it may have
been the result of Egypt's high civilisation, causing settled
trades or manufactures to be of chief repute, and casting dis-
credit on the old modes of life which roving hordes, with no
property but their flocks and herds, were accustomed to pursue.
Be that as it may, it is a shrewd device of policy on the part
of Joseph, — if it be not rather the inspiration of divine wis-
dom,— to make the very lowliness of the calling of his brethren
the means at once of their security and of their isolation. It is
not by claiming for them a high public rank, and pushing them
forward as entitled to honourable consideration for their rela-
tionship to him, that he wins for them the place which he deems
it best and safest for them to occupy. No. It is rather in the
position of the outcast of the world, — the despised and rejected
of Egypt's busy merchants and proud fastidious fashionables,
— that he sees fit to place them. He would rather have them
to be an abomination than a delight to the Eg}^tians. Egypt's
frown is better for them than Egypt's flattery and fellowship.
It is the same now. The world's hatred is safer for the
friends of Jesus than the world's smiles. " Blessed are ye,
when men shall hate you, and when they shall separate you
from their company, and shall reproach you, and cast out your
name as evil, for the Son of man's sake " (Luke vi. 22).
Joseph's introduction or presentation of his kindred to
Pharaoh is evidently an aff"air of some little delicacy. He
manages it with his usual tact ; or rather Avith that mixture
of sagacious policy and strong feeling which seems to have
been natural to his character. We have seen how he has
prepared his brethren, " his father's house," beforehand, and
primed them, as it were, for the royal audience awaiting them.
He has come to an understanding with them as to what he is
to say about them in introducing them to the king, and what
they, when introduced, are to say to the king about themselves.
246 ISRAEL'S WELCOME IN EGYPT.
And now he goes about the business, as arranged, with a cer-
tain elaborate observance of form that agrees well with ancient
oriental manners. There is also, however, on the part of
Joseph an evident design to maintain the independent standing
and dignity of his father's house, and to give to their settle-
ment in Eg3q3t the prestige of a sort of royal recognition of
their independence.
I. Joseph enters the royal presence alone, and makes his
report to Pharaoh (ver. 1). He tells the king of the arrival of
his father and brethren, and also that he has taken it upon
himself to settle them at Goshen. It is a fertile district, fitted
for pasture rather than for agriculture. It is on the frontiers
of Egypt, towards the Arabian wilds, where roving nomadic
tribes of shepherds are accustomed to pitch their tents and feed
theu" flocks. It has been conjectured that it was a district
from which some invading Arab host had only very recently
been expelled, and which, though reclaimed and recovered by
the Egyptian monarch, as a part of his dominions, was not yet
occupied, and was not likely to be speedily or fully occupied,
by Egypt's native population. For the highly civilised Egypt-
ians, who had made great progress in arts as well as arms,
preferred for the most part a more central position and more
settled employments. They were growers of wheat and all
sorts of grain. They were skilled in linen and other manufac-
tures. They carried on a considerable trade. Hence they
naturally shrunk from the neighbourhood of the constantly
migrating hordes, who lived by pasturage and by plunder, —
whose wealth was in flocks and herds, as their home was in
camps, and their joy in war. A locality like Goshen, on the
very borders of the land, and scarcely regained out of the
grasp of these alert and almost ubiquitous enemies, ever on the
watch for fresh mischief, might be apt to lie waste for want of
Egyptian settlers ; and in its ambiguous state of half conquest
and half occupany, might be a source of weakness rather than
of strength to the Egyptian commonwealth. In such a condi-
TO BE KEPT THERE TILL THE TIME COMES. 247
tion of affairs, it might be a good stroke of policy to have it
inhabited by a young and enterprising family of shepherds,
disposed to detach themselves from the princes of Palestine
and the wild chiefs of Arabia, and to cast in their lot, for what-
ever reason of necessity or choice, with the fame and the for-
tunes of Egypt. So we may suppose Joseph to have reasoned,
when, on his own responsibility, he took the step which he
now reports to Pharaoh. Evidently he felt that it was a step
which needed some explanation. And he has prepared the
explanation, which he first states himself, and then expects his
brethren, according to the instructions he has given them, to
confirm. He dwells, as he has taught them to dwell, on the
fact of their being shepherds. That being their trade, where
could he put them, with their flocks and herds, more properly
than in the region which lay waiting, as it were, for such a
race to possess it 1 It is the very thing needed to strengthen
Eg}q3t's outworks, and keep wild rovers at bay. " Behold they
are in the land of Goshen."
Two remarks here suggest themselves, — ^the first applicable
to Joseph's part in this arrangement ; the second applicable to
the overruling hand of God which may be seen in it.
First, as to Joseph, — is it not noticeable that he does not
push the fortunes of his family at court 1 Who else in his
place would have failed to do so ? The ball is at his foot ; the
kingdom's resources are at his disposal. His relatives could
not be refused preferment if he asked it for them. Offices in
his o^vn household, and in the king's, await their acceptance, if
Joseph will but give the word. Provincial appointments, all
over the country and its dependencies, may be theirs. Un-
bounded wealth and honour may come to all of them, if Joseph
chooses to use his opportunity on their behalf. And why does
he not ? AYhy banish them to distant obscurity in Goshen 1
Is it that he distrusts them, and thinks that they might not
do him credit if he promoted them 1 Nay, he has had them
at his table. He is not ashamed to own them as brethren.
248 ISRAEL'S WELCOME IN EGYPT.
and set tliem before the king. Judali's rare eloquence and
Benjamin's simple beauty would have made themselves felt
any day in Egypt's highest circles. What then is it that weighs
with Joseph in his preferring the humble sphere of Goshen
for his family, rather than the riches of Egypt 1 What can it
be but faith — the same faith which moves him, for himself and
his sons, to make common cause with them ■?
For it seems all but certain, from the narrative, — and it is
exceedingly remarkable, — that from the moment of his bring-
ing down his father and brethren from Canaan, Joseph took
the place, as far as possible, and acted the part, not of the
vizier and prime minister of Pharaoh, but of a child of Israel.
We read, indeed, of his completing the operation which the
famine had suggested, and effecting a great change in the
tenure of property all over Egypt. He remained at his post
till his work was done. But beyond all question, his heart
was in Goshen ; he was an Israelite indeed. It was not to
Pharaoh but to Jacob that he looked for an inheritance to his
two boys. He sits loose to Pharaoh's palace ; all his hope is
in Goshen's tents. Surely this is faith. He thus declares
himself to be " a stranger and sojourner on the earth," and to
be " looking for a city." The promised Saviour, — the seed of
the woman bruising the serpent's head, and so becoming the
source of blessing to all the nations of the earth, — the divine
favour and the heavenly rest, — these are all precious to him ;
and they are all boxmd up with Israel. Therefore he will be
himself one of Israel's sons. And for Israel he will choose a
place where " the peo^^le may dwell alone." He will not hazard
the risk of their participation in Egypt's glory. It is better
and safer for them, as God's chosen people, to be humble
shepherds feeding their flocks in Goshen. '
Secondly, in the whole of this matter, the over-ruling
providence of tlie Lord is conspicuous. He brings Israel into
Eg}q3t at the right time, and with the right place prepared for
their habitation. Goslien is made vacant for theii' reception.
TO BE KEPT THERE TILL THE TIME COMES. 249
and Pharaoh finds it to be for his and for Egypt's good to
have Israel located tliere. It is not man's planning — it is the
Lord's doing. He causes a wild roving shepherd tribe to
overrun, so as to depopulate and lay waste, an outlying portion
of Egypt's realm. Again he causes them to retire before
Egypt's mustering hosts. Then Joseph is sold ; the famine
comes ; Joseph is promoted ; his brethren come down for
food ; and discovery takes place. Thus Israel is brought into
Egypt ; and in Egypt Goshen is ready for Israel. Time,
place, and circumstances, all are fitting into one another. And
it is altogether the doing of the Lord.
II. Having himself prepared the way, by reporting to
Pharaoh what he has done, Joseph now solicits and obtains
for a select number of his brethren an audience of the king
(ver. 2). This also is an aff'air of state, like the formal
reception of an embassy. Joseph would not have his people to
aj)pear before Pharaoh as a miscellaneous crowd of suppliants,
or a company of needy adventurers. They approach the
throne by a deputation ; the " five men " act as representatives
of an orderly community, prepared to negotiate a treaty with ,
Egypt and Egypt's monarch. They have to ask a favour, no
doubt : but they do not ask it after the manner of abject
mendicants. Their whole bearing is erect and dignified. In
answer to the king's inquiry, " What is your occupation ? "
there is a frank avowal of their hereditary character and
calling : " Thy servants are shepherds, both we and also our
fathers " (ver. 3) ; and they have no hesitation in following-
up their avowal Avith a proj)osal that might almost, in their
circumstances, seem presumptuous. They certainly state their
case mth great coolness, and prefer their petition, respectfully
enough it is true, but with not a little confidence ; " Now
therefore, we pray thee, let thy servants dwell in the land of
Goshen " (ver. 4).
Thus these brethren of Joseph claim at Pharaoh's hands
the humble portion of the good things of Egypt that they
250 ISRAEL'S WELCOME IN EGYPT.
need. And Joseph has power and influence enough to secure
that their claim shall be allowed. For it is to Joseph that
they are indebted. It is he who obtains for them the boon ;
it is with him that Pharaoh deals ; " Pharaoh spake unto
Joseph, saying, Thy father and thy brethren are come unto
thee : the land of Egypt is before thee ; in the best of the
land make thy father and brethren to dwell ; in the land of
Goshen let them dwell " (ver. 5, 6). The land of Egypt is
before thee ; the best of it may be chosen. If Goshen is
preferred, by all means let it be Goshen. That may not be
in some respects the best. The overflowing Nile may cause
some other parts of Egypt to teem with more luxuriant
harvests. But it may be the best for them. At all events it
is heartily at their service.
The gift is princely, and the manner of giving is princel}^ ;
there is in it an air of courtesy and liberality worthy of a
king ; of one who was then the highest of earth's kings. He
gives simply and freely. And, by a refinement of kind
graciousness, as if to lessen the burden of the obligation, he
adds the suggestion that their services may be turned to
account. The benefit is not all on one side ; there is an
honourable way of requiting Pharaoh's goodness ; " If thou
knowest any men of activity among them, then make them
rulers over my cattle " (ver. 6).
III. The personal interview between the king and Jacob is
one more of the scenes in this most aff'ecting history on which
few would choose or venture to expatiate (ver. 7-10). The
simple i3athos of the narrative is only marred by anything like
lengthened comment or exposition.
The meeting begins and ends with benediction. When
" Joseph brought in his father Jacob and set him before
Pharaoh," " Jacob blessed Pharaoh." When " he went out
from before Pharaoh," " Jacob blessed Pharaoh " (ver. 7, 1 0).
" Without all contradiction, the less is blessed of the
better" (Heb. \ii. 7) ; that is the construction divinely placed
, TO BE KEPT THERE TILL THE TIME COMES. 251
on Melchizedek's blessing Abraham. May not the same con-
struction be placed on Jacob's blessing Pharaoh 1
Pharaoh's intermediate question indeed, coming in between
the two benedictions, may seem to savour of an assumption of
superiority (ver. 8). He plays the king, — does he not ? — :
according to the customary kingly fashion of condescension,
when he asks " How old art thou 1 " And yet it was a natural
enough question, and it might be put in all simplicity. Jacob's
countenance and gait betokened extreme old age. Sin and
sorrow, anxiety and care, had left their deep traces on a
face furrowed by many a tear; his frame tottered under the
load of griefs as well as years. But he had the calm look of
faith, — his dim eye caught a beam of heavenly light, — and
there was authority in his voice, — when " he blessed Pharaoh !"
His reply to Pharaoh's kind inquiry is very touching ; it must
have deepened the impression made by his grey hairs and
venerable mien. It is a reply which, familiar as it is from
long-past reading and recollection, one cannot recall to memory,
even now, without a thrilling sense of reality ; as the scene
represents itself almost visibly before the mind's eye.
There is Pharaoh, — at first, as I suppose, seated in state
on the throne, — prepared, first by Joseph's explanation, then
by the audience granted to the five brethren, for the fonnal
reception of Jacob, the head and chief of the family. A^liat
sort of approach to him, on the patriarch's side, the monarch
may have anticipated, who can tell 1 He did not probably
look for prostration, or anything like abject and servile obei-
sance. But was he prepared, — was even Joseph prepared, —
for the majesty, — it must have been something majestic, — of
Jacob's act 1 Lifting up his hands, at the full height of his
stature, without one preliminary word of salutation or gesture
of compliment to the king, the old man pours out his soul in
prayer ; — asking God's best blessing on the royal head ; — and
in God's name, pronouncing the customary blessing of Abra-
ham's house and seed !
252 ISRAEL'S WELCOME IN EGYPT.
We have no more trace in history of this Pharaoh ; he
passes from the stage with Jacob's blessing on him. May we
not say that he passes from it with the blessing upon him of
Jacob's God 1 He has had a strange experience, for the king
of a heathen land. He has had not a little personal know-
ledge of the true God, Jehovah, the God of Israel. Visions
by night have awakened him to seriousness. A godly youth,
discovered in prison by his godliness, has brought God, as the
revealer of secrets, and the ruler of events, very near to him.
The chosen seed, the Israel of God, have come to be entrusted
to his keeping. And now the last we see of him is when he
talks with Jacob, and receives his blessing.
If he intended to receive the patriarch, as chief of the new
tribe he is inviting to a settlement in his dominions, formally
and in state, as from the throne, — the patriarch's first appear-
ance, as he entered the royal presence, must have changed his
purpose. The tables, as it were, are turned. Jacob, — with
heart full of grateful feeling as all the king's kindness rushes
fresh upon him, — and conscious of his power, as Israel, to pre-
vail as a prince with God in invoking a worthy recompense,
— " Jacob blesses Pharaoh." Shall we say that the king feels
himself to be blessed, — the less by the better, — a monarch of
earth by a servant of the monarch of heaven ] He quits the
throne accordingly and accepts the patriarch's benediction.
It is the benediction of an old man. Hoav old, he asks 1 The
answer moves him all the more : " And Jacob said unto
Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hun-
dred and thirty years : few and evil have the days of the
years of my life been, and have not attained unto the days of
the years of the life of my fathers, in the days of their pil-
grimage. And Jacob blessed Pharaoh, and went out from
before Pharaoh." It is the benediction of a much tried and
much exercised old man. He invites and welcomes its repe-
tition •; for he has heard from Joseph something of Israel's
God, and Israel's hope. Let us leave him, humbling himself
, TO BE KEPT THERE TILL THE TIME COMES. 253
to receive twice over the blessing of the aged saint. Let us
gratefully own God's grace in his dealings, first and last, with
this right royal king of Egypt.
And from all these particulars connected with the settle-
ment of the chosen family in the land in which they were to
" dree a weary weird," to work out a sad period of bondage,
let us learn such lessons as these : — 1. How the Lord makes
place and time suitable for any crisis which he has appointed
to happen, in the history of his people collectively, and of
every one of them apart. If Egypt must be your destiny, he
will find for you a Goshen, — and have it ready for you at the
very hour you need it. 2. How Jesus may be trusted by
you to claim for you at the hands of the world, and its
princes, and its people, whatever may be for your good. He
will see to it that you have whatever Goshen you require at
the hands of any Pharaoh, — and you may humbly accept it
without undue humiliation or shame. 3. How he who has
the hearts of all men in his hands can dispose whatever
Pharaoh you come in contact with to be at peace with you
and do you good. And 4. How he can make your contact
with any and every Pharaoh conducive to his good as well as
yours, — if in faith you realise your power, the power of your
prayer, with God, — and if on every occasion of your being
introduced to such a one, "when he asks you any simple
question about yourself, you make it the occasion of your call-
ing down from heaven a blessing upon him.
254 JOSEPH'S EGYPTIAN POLICY.
LXIII.
JOSEPH'S EGYPTIAN POLICY— ISRAEL'S QUIET EEST.
Genesis xlvii. 11-28.
To teach liis senators wisdom. — Psalm cv. 22.
My people sliall dwell in a peaceable habitation. — Isaiah xxxii. 18.
Two topics occur in this passage for consideration, the pohcy
of Joseph as ruler in Egypt, — and the position of Israel as
settled in Egypt. Of these, the former is to be regarded as
quite subordinate to the latter.
I. The Egyptian policy of Joseph is very briefly noticed ;
and in the most incidental way ; some fourteen verses com-
prise the whole. Evidently it is not a full account of the
transaction that is given ; and evidently also, it is an account
of it simply in an Israelitish point of view. It is not
narrated as a part of the universal history of the world, — nor
even as a part of the history of Egypt. The change, or
revolution, is only so far described as to explain the position
of the Israelites in Egypt, and account for their future treat-
ment there. It is, accordingly, imbedded, as it were, in the
continuous narrative of their Egyptian experience ; so that it
comes in, as it were, incidentally. We might quite well omit
it all (ver. 13-26), and read the story of Israel without that
intervening break.
Joseph, after obtaining the sanction of Pharaoh, pro-
ceeded to carry out his plan and settle the chosen family, as a
peculiar people, in a territory which they could call their
own. And having so placed them, he nourished them ; not
ISRAEL'S QUIET REST. 255
as if they were mere mendicants receiving alms, — but in an
orderly manner, and with a full recognition of their separate
standing, as a tribe or patriarchal community, welcomed as
such, in a friendly manner, by Egypt and its prince (ver. 1 ] ,
12). With this account of the beginning of their settlement,
the account of their progress fitly joins in (ver. 27). The
intermediate narrative is quite parenthetical. The account
of Jose^^h's conduct, as ruler in Egypt, is an altogether
irrelevant, not to say impertinent, interruption, unless we hold
that it is brought in with a view to its bearing on the for-
tunes of Israel.
But looking at it in itself, what are the facts of the case 1
For there would seem to have been from of old, and to be
still, not a little misapprehension in many quarters in regard
to this matter. The facts are few and simple. At the
beginning of the years of famine, Joseph sold the grain,
stored up during the seven years of plenty, for money (ver.
14). It is not insinuated that he acted the part of an
extortioner, but only that he did, in point of fact, obtain
possession of the money, and hand it over to Pharaoh. The
grain market followed the natural course of trade. Joseph
had corn, — the people had money ; but Joseph's corn out-
lasted the people's money. Then when " money failed,"
Joseph took cattle (ver. 15-17). How long the money lasted
is not said ; but the cattle lasted, as payment for corn, only
for a year. The next year, probably the last, or last but one,
of the famine, the people had nothing to give for corn but
their lands and their persons (ver. 18, 19). Joseph took
their land (ver. 20) ; and as to their persons, he enforced a
general removal from the country into towns (ver. 21). The
priests alone were exempted (ver. 22) ; it would seem that
their land had been already surrendered to the crown, and
that they had become pensioners dependent on the king.
The ordinary population ceased to be landowners, and came
under a system which implied their being, as a general rule.
256 JOSEPH'S EGYPTIAN POLICY.
settled in cities, rather than living a rural life. They were
still, however, to have an interest in the soil. The cultivation
of it, after it became the king's, was offered to them on easy
terms (ver. 23-26). Leases might be had, for anything we
know, for any number of years ; or there might be no need
of leases. The annual rent to be paid by the people for
liberty to till the ground was fixed. It was to be always and
everywhere a fifth part of the produce. Four parts of it were
absolutely their own.
These are the plain facts here recorded, — without com-
ment or explanation. They surely afford far too scanty
materials for determining whether Joseph, at this crisis, acted
a wise and ^^atriotic part for Egypt, or made himself the tool
of a tyrant, for the establishment of an arbitrary throne. We
would need to know more of the constitution and laws of
Egypt, both before and after Joseph's administration, than
either old history records, or new researches among the tombs
and pyramids have as yet discovered, — before we could be in
a position to pronounce a dogmatic opinion on the subject.
Certainly, it is only a most perverse ingenuity that can extract
out of the few bare and simple statements in this brief passage,
evidence to convict Joseph of a cunning Machiavellian plot to
lay Egypt and its inhabitants prostrate at Pharaoh's feet. On
the contrary, for anything that here appears, his manner of
turning to account the years of increasing famine, may have
been as much for the people's benefit as for that of the prince.
He was the king's loyal servant ; but he was also the saviour,
in a temporal sense, of the king's subjects. He certainly took
measures for abolishing all feudal tenures of property that
were independent of the king. But that may have been no
harm. He struck at the root, perhaps, of the heritable juris-
diction of petty princes and landlords, accustomed, as we may
conjecture, to wield the power even of capital punishment over
their vassals. He ordained that all occupiers and cultivators
of estates should hold them directly of the crown. But he
Israel's quiet rest. 257
fixed a uniform and easy condition. And if his measures
tended to foster a busy town population, rather than one over-
crowded and enslaved in the country, — considering Egypt's
place and opportunities as a manufacturing and trading country,
— that can scarcely be held to have been a wicked act of power.
Certainly, there is no trace of Egypt's having become less
prosperous or less influential in consequence of Joseph's rule.
The opposite rather is the fair inference.
But it is chiefly important to observe the bearing of
Joseph's Egyptian policy upon the condition and prospects of
Israel. It put an end to a state of things that might admit
of rival clans and their chiefs acting on their o^vn account, so
as to thwart the supreme government. It concentrated au-
thority in one royal head. And so it made it easier for the
Pharaoh who was Joseph's friend to secure the peaceful settle-
ment of the family in Goshen ; while it also made it easier,
long afterwards, for the Pharaoh who " knew not Joseph," to
enslave and oppress the nation into which the family was then
fast growing. That is probably the reason, and the only
reason, wdiy the matter is noticed at all in this history, how-
ever briefly and parenthetically. It is simply to explain how
the introduction into the country of a new race or a new
nationality, — which at an earlier date, and under a difl'erent
order of things, might have occasioned heart-burnings and
dissensions, and even kindled the flames of ci\dl war, — could be
quietly accomplished by the mere will and word of the king
who now, thanks to Joseph's sagacity, was reigning as a king
indeed ; wielding a sovereign sceptre — and not merely holding
an uneasy and uncertain balance among a set of turbulent
lords of the soil, ready to make him their sport or their victim,
to fawn on him and set him at defiance by turns. And it is
also to show how, in the very conjuncture of circumstances
which brought Israel into Egypt, and prepared Egypt for Israel,
he who sees the end from the beginning was so ordering and
overruling events, as to bring out of an arrangement which
VOL. IL S'
2o8 JOSEPHS EGYPTIAN POLICY.
seemed all to wear a smiling and favourable aspect towards
his people, that very discipline of long and dreary bondage
which was to fulfil his own previously announced purpose, and
pave the way for their terrible and glorious deliverance at the
last.
II. And now the people of Israel are at rest, — in a settled
habitation, — dwelling in peace and safety, — with none to make
them afraicf (ver. 27, 28). They have their own houses and
possessions undisturbed, — their own institutions and usages, —
their own family order, — their own patriarchal rule, — their
own religious services — worshipping God every man under his
own vine and his own fig-tree.
It is a goodly and pleasant scene to look upon. All the
past is forgotten ; its trials and temptations, its sins and sor-
rows,— its dark passages of deceit and envy, of malice, lust,
and blood, — its cruel separations, — its anxious suspense, — its
trembling hope, — its whole tragic interest of pity and terror.
All is over. The intricate plot is for the present unravelled,
— the strange wild romance is ended. And now there is a
pause ; all is quiet. There, in Goshen, tranquillity reigns —
unrufiied calm, — complete repose. The old man's vexed soul
is to taste, before he quits this earthly scene, a serene peace
hitherto but little known. Before the few and evil days of
his pilgrimage close, he is to " see his children's children, and
peace upon Israel" (Ps. cxxviii). No details are given, no
particulars specified ; for quiet times furnish few materials for
history. So these uneventful years swiftly pass, until "the
time draws nidi that Israel must die."
THE DYING SAINT'S CARE FOR THE BODY. 259
LXIV.
THE DYING SAINT'S CARE FOR THE BODY AS WELL
AS THE SOUL.
Genesis xlvii. 29-31.
The liope and resurrection of the dead — The hope of Israel. — Acts x:xiii. 6,
and xxvlii. 20.
" Jacob lived in the land of Egypt seventeen years " (ver. 28).
They were, we may venture to believe, years of tranqiiillitj^
and quiet domestic joy. Though in a strange land, he might
say, with the contented Shunammite, " I dwell among my own
people" (2 Kings iv. 13). He had Ms sons around him, now
at last living together as brethren in unity ; having learned of
Joseph to love as they had been loved.
It was a short time, not only in itself, but even as com-
pared with the patriarch's entire life. For " so," — taking these
seventeen years into account, — " the whole age of Jacob was
an hundred forty and seven years" (ver. 18). It was not
much more than a tenth of his allotted earthly span, that
Jacob was permitted thus to spend in Goshen's retired haven
of calm, after more than a century of exposure to the fitful
storms and breezes of an uneasy voyage. We might almost
■wish that he had got a longer interval of preparatory repose
before he was called to pass from earth's tumult to heaven's
final rest. But that is not the mind of God. The allowance
of even these seventeen years, between his tossing on the sea
and his safe arrival in port, is a signal instance of the Lord's
kind consideration. But this is not his rest ; here he has no
260 THE DYING SAINT's CARE FOR THE BODY
continuing city ; tlie hour of his departure comes at last.
" The time drew near that Israel must die" (ver. 29).
It is a time that is drawing near to every hapjDy home,
to every lo^dng household ; the fondest home-circle must be
thus invaded, the most loving home-fellowship must be thus
broken up. A few short years of holy and peaceful sojourning
together may be granted to you. But the years are numbered,
— and the time draws near when one of you must die.
How solemn is the parting-knell ! It has a voice to every
house, every home, every band of brothers, every circle of com-
panions. AATiat are you about together ] How are you
living together 1 Are you encouraging one another in sin ;
forgetting God, and following pleasure ? Are you striving
with another, envying one another, injuring one another ?
The time draws near when one of you must die ! Are you,
on the contrary, walking together in the good way of the Lord,
— seeking the Lord together, — working together for the Lord,
— communing much together, oh ! how lovingly, in the Lord !
Still the time draws near when one of you must die !
Have you in the midst of you a venerable patriarch, a
brother, or a father, much beloved in the Lord, — a parent, a
counsellor, a friend, a pastor, who is to you as a sort of head,
— whose words of wisdom should be your guide, — whose ever
ready arm is your stay, — whose ever ready smile or tear of
sympathy is your consolation ? Ah ! if at any time you are
tempted, on the one hand, to make too much of him, — to
reckon on him as your help for years to come, — to lean on
him, it may be, instead of looking to God, — to idolise him, —
or count him a necessity of your Avell-being ; — or if at any
time you are tempted, on the other hand, to make too little of
him, to put away his counsels and warnings till a more con-
venient season ; — may it not be good in either case to be
realising the solemn fact, — that the time draws near when
3'Our Israel must die.
For Israel himself, tlie drawing near of the time when he
AS WELL AS THE SOUL, 261
must die, implies work to be done, — directions to be given, —
preparations to be made. He must " set his house in order,
since he is to die and not live" (Is. xxxviii. 1). He must
settle his family affairs, and arrange about his funeral.
This last is his first concern ; he gives commandment
about the disposal of his body. The future of his soul
occasions to him no anxiety ; on that head he has nothing to
fear, or to ask. He is ready to depart in peace, — his eyes
having seen the salvation of God. This is no case of a death-
bed repentance — no hasty and desperate attempt, after years
of wilful neglect of God's grace, to pacify the alarm of
conscience at the last hour. Jacob has long walked with God.
His infirmities and faults may have been many, — his circum-
stances have been very trying. But his long experience of the
divine forbearance and kindness, and the recent outburst of
light at his " evening time," must have drawn closer the cords
of love that bound him to the God of his fathers, as his own
God. He can calmly, therefore, resign his spirit into the Lord's
keeping. It is about his body and its burial that he is
solicitous : and his solicitude is very great. It leads to his
having very close dealing with Joseph on the subject, and to
his exacting from Joseph a very solemn pledge. Using the
same significant form that Abraham did, when he adjured his
old servant and made him take an oath in the matter of a
spouse to be found for Isaac, — he causes Joseph to swear with
the same deep emphasis in the matter of a grave to be pro-
vided for himself : "Put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh,
and deal kindly and truly with me : bury me not, I pray thee,
in Egypt : but I will lie with my fathers ; and thou shalt
carry me out of Egypt, and bury me in their burying-place.
And he said, I will do as thou hast said. And he said. Swear
unto me. And he sware unto him. And Israel bowed him-
self upon the bed's head " (ver. 29-31).
The old man is now content. His soul is to be with God,
his body is to rest in Canaan.
262 THE DYING SAINT'S CARE FOR THE BODY
What does all this mean 1 Why this extreme concern as
to where his body is to lie 1 Is it mere natural feeling, — the
fond imagination of a sort of pleasure in being laid near
kmdred dust, — sharing the narrow bed and the long home of
loved ones lost and mourned 1 It may be so in part. Some-
thing of that ineradicable instinct of human nature would seem
to be indicated, when the dying patriarch afterwards repeats
the same request : " Bury me with my fathers in the cave that
is in the field of Ephron. There they buried Abraham and
Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac and Eebekah his
wife; and there I buried Leah" (xlix. 29-31). There is a
touch of tenderness in this last remembrance, — " there I buried
Leah," — that cannot but affect the heart.
Partly, then, it may have been natural feeling that moved
Jacob ; — and partly also wise policy and true patriotism.
That the remains of the last of their patriarchal chiefs should
be carried up by his people, and with much state deposited in
the family vault, was an arrangement well fitted to prevent
their settling down in Egypt as their final home. It tended
to keep alive their sense of their high calling as the destined
heirs of Canaan.
But there must have been something more than mere
natural feeling and wise patriotism in this extreme urgency of
Jacob. These and the like motives might incline him to give
a hint, to indicate a wish, to leave behind him an order. But
the deep solemnity of the oath evidently betokens somethmg
far more serious ; — more spiritual ; — more intimately con-
nected with his own personal religious experience, and his
hope for eternity.
" I believe in the resurrection of the body," — that is the
only true and full interpretation of this remarkable procedure
of the departing patriarch. " I know that my Redeemer liveth,
and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And
though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my
flesh shall I see God." That was Job's creed ; and it was
AS WELL AS THE SOUL. 263
Jacob's. Job, trusting in a living Kedeemer, looked hoi^efully
through the loathsomeness of the tomb to a bright resurrection
morning. So also did Jacob. He too knew that he had a
Eedeemer who liveth, — that he had for his Eedeemer the
Living One. He therefore looked through death to hfe, —
through his dying in the body to his living again in the body.
He believed assuredly that the promises made to him living
in the body must be fulfilled to him living again in the body,
— since they were the promises of him " who is the God, not
of the dead, but of the living." Therefore his body must rise
again, that in his risen body he may receive the promised
inheritance. That promised inheritance is identified with
the land within whose borders he desires his body to be
laid. His being buried there is his taking infeftment in it
with the very body in which, when it is raised in glory, he is
to receive the promised " recompense of reward."
In this assurance Jacob was willing to close his pilgrim-
age, as not only a stranger and sojourner in Canaan, but an
exile in Egypt. He was willing to have the promise post-
poned to the future life, and to await, for its fulfilment, the
resurrection of the body. And in token of this assurance, and
of this willingness, he issues instructions, under the solemn
sanction of a deep oath, respecting his body's burial in the
land of promise.
Is not his faith mine ? And his hope 1 AMien the time
draws near that I must die, — believing, I may commit my
soul to God. And my body too. I need not, it is true, be
so anxious as Jacob was about the place or manner of my
body's interment. I have not the same occasion. I am not
called to teach the same prophetic lesson. I may sit very loose
to the question where my lifeless frame is to lie, — in ocean's
deep bed, — or on earth's wildest waste. But it is not because
I hold the body cheap. No. It is because I know that he to
264 THE DYING SAINT'S CARE FOR THE BODY, ETC.
whom it is still united will see to its safe keeping, wherever
it may rest, — and will restore it to me soon, invested with his
own glory, — and will bestow upon me, when it is restored to
me, the promised everlasting inheritance in " the new heavens
and the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness."
THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN. 265
LXV.
THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN— JACOB'S
DYING FAITH.
Genesis xlyiii.
By faitli Jacob, when lie was a dying, blessed both tlie sons of Joseph ;
and worshipped, leaning upon the top of his staff. — Hebrews xi. 21.
This scene, or transaction, is partly natural and partly super-
natural j or rather it is both throughout. It is faith prevail-
ing against sense, and triumphing over it. But the triumph
appears in its being an affair of sense, or of nature, which
grace turns into an affair of faith. Grace reigns in it by faith ;
and it does so all the more conspicuously because there is in
it so much of nature.
Besides the usual symptoms of age and a2:)proaching death,
Jacob has a special warning in an attack of illness. He is
sick ; and the sickness is the occasion of a second parting
interview, as it were, between him and Joseph (ver. 1). Pos-
sibly the former interview may have been supposed on both
sides to be the last. Warned by marks and signs of growing
weakness, that the time draws near that he must die, Israel
has sent for Joseph, and has concluded with him a solemn
covenant as to the disposal of his body after his decease.
Evidently that was a matter to be arranged, at least in the
first instance, with Joseph ; he alone had the power to carry
out the plan on which Jacob's heart was set. The interposi-
tion of Joseph's influence and ."authority was needed, — and
Jacob takes a pledge from him that it shall not be wanting.
266 THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN.
So that solemn conference closes, — and the old man's heart is
at rest. Josej^h mthdraws, — perhaps scarcely expecting to
see his father again.
But Jacob lives on. He has not fulfilled all his task ; he
has not done all his death-bed work. For himself, he has
made full provision ; his soul is to be -with God, and his body
is to rest in Canaan. But he must be mindful of others — of
his family, viewed as God's church— and in the first instance,
of Joseph, their saviour and his. And this must be specially,
and in a marked way^ the doing of the Lord. Accordingly
the Lord sends sickness upon Jacob ; and the rumour of the
sickness brings Joseph. It is not as it was on that former
occasion ; Jacob does not " call his son Joseph." There is a
providential cause. Jacob falls sick, and Joseph of his own
accord comes to see him.
He comes on the impulse of natural affection. He will
visit his old and failing father once more ; and he will take with
him his two sons, that their grandfather may give them a part-
ing blessing. It is all natural, and simply natural Faith, no
doubt, moved Jacob, on that first occasion of his becoming
sensible of his approaching dissolution, to call his son Joseph,
and give him directions as to his funeral. But here, at the
outset, there is no sending in faith, or coming in faith ; but
only what might seem a becoming expression of the love which
Joseph felt for his dying parent, and the esteem in which he
held him, and would have his sons to hold him.
Very soon, however, faith begins to manifest itself, and to
give a turn to the interview far transcending the range of sense
or of nature : " Israel strengthened himself, and sat upon the
bed " (ver. 2). For the use of the name " Israel " is here, as I
think it is always, or almost always, significant. It is not
merely an occasional substitute for the name " Jacob," with a
view to variety. It seems to mark the transition, in the patri-
arch's experience or frame of mind, from natural weakness to
strong faith. "Jacob" is a worm — "thou worm Jacob" (Is.
, JACOB'S DYING FAITH. 267
xli. 14). "Israel" is a prince, liai-ing power with God and
prevailing — able to sustain the wrestling of the Angel — and to
overcome (Hosea xii. 3, 4).
Thus it is " Israel " (xlvii. 27) who takes up his abode in
Egypt, in Goshen ; for it is no little strength of faith that re-
conciles him to what his doing so implies. It is " Jacob "
(ver. 28) who lives in the land of Egypt seventeen years ; —
" Jacob " makes out the few and e"\dl days of the years of his
life till they are an hundred forty and seven — a bent and feeble
old man. But when they draw near their close (ver. 29), it is
" Israel " who is to die. And upon Joseph's swearing to carry
him out of Egypt and bury him in Canaan — it is no " Jacob "
— no — it is " Israel " who, in the firm and full faith of the re-
surrection and the inheritance, "bows himself on the bed's
head" (ver. 31).
So it is here. It is " Jacob " — sick and prostrate — who is
told, "Behold thy son Joseph cometli unto thee." But it is
" Israel " who instantly thereupon " strengthens himself and
sits upon his bed." Yes! It is "Israel" — though at first it
is as " Jacob " that he speaks in welcoming his son : " And
Jacob said unto Joseph " (ver. 3).
His speech is all of faith and by faith. The visit of Joseph
and his two sons cannot but be soothing and gratifying to his
natural affection ; but that is not what breathes in the old
man's words. He is divinely moved within to accept the in-
cident as a divine hint from above. It is not as giving vent
to his own feelings that he s^^eaks — but as having a commission
to execute, which God has put into his mind, and for which
God makes him see and feel that the opportunity has now
providentially come.
I. At once and abruptly he begins a recital of the Lord's
dealings v\dth him from the beginning. And it is fitly said
that it is " Jacob " who does so. The whole of his first speech
(ver. 3-7) is specially appropriate to " Jacob." It begins with
a devout acknowledgment of his obligation to grace ; he recalls
268 THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN.
the appearance of God Almighty to him at Bethel (ver. 3, 4).
Twice did God appear to him there — first, on his flight into
Padan-aram, and again after his return to Canaan. The two
appearances were intimately connected, and might almost be
regarded as one ; the second being the complement or accom-
plishment of the first. Both were times of quickening and
revival. The first may have wi'ought his conversion. Flying
from the wrath of his injured brother, and laden with the guilt
of sin against God, he received a gracious visit and was moved
to make a solemn vow. That scene must have been fresh in
his memory at this time. But it is probably the last of the
two appearances that he has chiefly in view. Then he was re-
awakened to a full apprehension of his high calling as the heir
of the promise. And it is that character that he here takes ;
in that character, he transacts mth Joseph. Thou comest to
see thy poor sick father Jacob ; and thou bringest thy sons
with thee, to gladden his dim eyes and sinking heart. Thou
meanest to speak comfortably to him. All well. Thy filial
love is owned and rewarded. Thy father, as the Jacob to
whom God Almighty appeared at Luz, and gave the promise
of Canaan for an everlasting possession for him and his seed
after him, has somewhat to say to thee. It is good news (ver.
5, 6). Thou art a prince in Egypt. Thou art married to one
of Eg}^3t's daughters ; and naturalised as one of Egypt's sons.
It might seem as if thy house were to be established among
Egypt's noblest families. But no. Thy portion is still with
the seed of Abraham. And it is a double portion ; I adopt as
mine thy two first-born sons. Each of them is to have a
standing as my son in the sacred household. It may be God's
will that thou shouldst found a family in Egypt j if so, it must
be in thine other children. These two whom thou hast brought
to me I claim and adopt as mine.*
* Did Jacob intend thus to transfer to Joseph the right of primogeni-
ture ? It may he so. For we read elsewhere concerning Keuben, the first-
born of Israel, that for his sin " his birthright was given unto the sons of
JACOB'S DYING FAITH. 269
It warms tlie old man's heart to be made, in his Last days,
the channel of conveying to his son Joseph so emphatic a token
of the divine favour as his being represented, in two lines, in
the chosen household. It brings back tender memories and
reawakens buried love (ver. 7). Hence his reference to Rachel ;
an irrelevant reference, but all the more touching on tliat
account. It is Eachel's child who stands beside his bed ; to
Eachel's child it is his last joy on earth to communicate the
divine decree. It is Eachel's child Avhom he is permitted thus
to crown with double honour.
II. But it is the religious faith, rather than the natural
affection, indicated in this transaction, that is chiefly to be
noticed. At first, apparently, Jacob's dim eyes had not re-
cognised his two grandchildren separately. But now they
are brought forward with formal courtesy, and some sort of cere-
mony, to receive Jacob's embrace and blessing. The old man
kisses and embraces them ; and then simply expresses his
gratification and gratitude : "I had not thought to see thy
face ; and lo, God hath showed me also thy seed" (ver. 8-11).
Then comes the solemn patriarchal, or rather prophetic act.
"With his hands upon their heads the aged seer announces the
will of the Lord. " Israel stretched out his right hand, and
laid it upon Ephraim's head, who was the younger, and his
Joseph the son of Israel : and the genealogy is not to be reckoned after the
birthright. For Jndah prevailed above his brethren, and of him came the
chief ruler ; but the birthright was Joseph's " (1 Chron. v. 1, 2). This is
confessedly an obscure intimation. It may mean that — Eeuben, Simeon,
and Levi being set aside for special offences — Judah came to stand in the
position of pre-eminence. Or it may mean that, while Eeuben, in some
sense, retained his first place in the reckoning of the genealogy — the birth-
right was virtually shared between Joseph, who received a double portion
in his sons, and Judah, to whom the sovereignty was assigned. At all
events, the statement is remarkable: "The birthright was Joseph's."
And it seems to point to this transaction — Jacob's conferring a double
portion on Joseph, in the persons of his two sons — as the first formal inti-
mation of the divine purpose to that effect.
270 THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN.
left upon Manasseli's head, guiding his hands wittingly ; for
Manasseh was the first-born" (ver. 12-14).
This strange act receives a twofold explanation.
1. Generally, as applicable to both of Joseph's sons alike,
the divine purpose is declared. " He blessed Joseph, and said,
God, before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk,
the God which fed me all my life long unto this day, the
Angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads ; and
let my name be named on them, and the name of my fathers
Abraham and Isaac ; and let them grow into a multitude in
the midst of the earth" (ver. 15, 16). It is " Israel" who thus
speaks ; and what he says is primarily a benediction upon
Joseph. It is he who is thus signally owned and honoured
in his sons. And the benediction runs in the name of God
in a somewhat peculiar way ; as " the Angel which redeemed
him from all evil." It is a remarkable form of expression. It
can scarcely be restricted to time, or to deliverance from tem-
poral evil. It may include that ; but it surely goes beyond
it. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, is here spoken of
as redeeming from all e\il, comprehensively, — from all the evil
of the fall. He is the destined seed of the woman, bruising
the head of the serpent, and setting his victims free. So
Israel hails, in the God before whom Abraham and Isaac had
walked, — in the God who had fed him all his life long unto
this day, — the great Mediator, the Angel of Jehovah who is
himself Jehovah, the redresser of all the ills to which flesh is
heir. It is the Messianic blessing, in its widest range, that
Israel invokes upon the lads. He would have them to be made
partakers of the hope which they all, — Abraham, Isaac, and
himself, — had, when they walked as strangers on the earth,
and died in faith, resting on the promised Saviour.
2. " Israel " distinguishes the lads in thus blessing them.
Joseph has noticed the misplacing of his sons (ver. 13, 14) ;
but he has not ventured to interfere until his father's lips are
closed. Now, however, he will have the mistake rectified :
JACOB'S DYING FAITH. 271
" Not SO, my father : for this is the first-born ; put thy right
hand upon his head" (ver. 17, 18). But it is no mistake ;
his father knows what he is about ; and what he has done he has
done dehberately (ver. 1 9). " Israel " is acting in this matter
for God ; announcing, not a wish of his own, or a determination
of his own will, but an oracle of God. And one proof of its
being so is the sovereignty which it asserts and vindicates as
belonging to God. It is a sovereignty which it is his prero-
gative to exercise, without giving account to any. And it is
his pleasure to exercise it, — especially in the sacred family,
and in connection with the covenant-promise of redemption by
the Angel, of w^hich that family is the depository, — in a way
that reverses human notions, and makes it plain that all is of
God. " For the purpose of God, according to election, must
stand, not of works, but of him that calleth." " It is not of
him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that
showeth mercy." So it had ever been in God's dealings with
the patriarchs in time past ; so it was to be still. So it was,
and is, in the time of the complete fulfilment of the promise, —
when the Angel of the Covenant actually accomplishes the re-
demption from all evil of which Jacob speaks. The law, or
rule, under whose operation the economy of grace ordinarily
proceeds, is always the same, — humbling to human wisdom,
glorifying to the divine sovereignty. The last are often first,
and the first last. " He came unto his o^\ai, and his own re-
ceived him not. But as many as received him, to them gave
he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe
on his name : which were born, not of blood, nor of the mil
of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God" (John i. 11-1 3).
But the blessing, though with a distinction thus made, in
the exercise of sovereignty, between the lads, — as if to show
that it is the blessing of the same God who gave the oracle,
"The elder shall serve the younger," — is still comprehensive
enough to embrace both. And as embracing both, it is so rich
and full, that nothing beyond it can be imagined as desirable
272 THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN.
for any one : " He blessed them that day, saying, In thee shall
Israel bless, saying, God make thee as Ephraim and as
Manasseh" (ver. 20).
That surely must be a blessing, inclusive of " the promise
which godliness has, both of the life that now is, and of the
life that is to come" (1 Tim. iv. 8). No other blessing could
dying "Israel" hold to be a model blessing for his seed, — for
all time to come.
III. And now the patriarch closes the affecting interview
with one more declaration of his faith : " Behold I die, but
God shall be with you, and bring you again unto the land of
your fathers" (ver. 21). As to himself, he dies in sure and
certain hope of the resurrection and of an inheritance beyond
the grave. For Joseph, and for all his family whom he leaves
behind, he gives his dying confirmation to the assurance that
the earthly inheritance is certain to the family of Abraham at
last. And in testimony of his faith to that effect, he leaves a
final and very peculiar bequest to Joseph : " Moreover, I have
given to thee one portion above thy brethren, which I took out
of the hand of the Amorite with my sword and with my bow "
(ver. 22).
It is a bequest of special significancy. It is like the tran-
saction into which Jeremiah entered, on the eve of the captivity
at Babylon, when under divine guidance he negotiated with
his uncle for the redemption and purchase of the field in
Anathoth (Jerem. xxxii). That act of the prophet was designed
emphatically to attest his full and firm faith in the promise of
God, that the people would be delivered out of their Babylonian
bondage, and would resume possession of the land of their
fathers. So confident is Jeremiah of the fulfilment of that
promise, that when all the country is in the enemy's hand, and
Jerusalem itself is about to fall, he completes the purchase of
the alienated property of his house, — and causes the title-deeds
to be duly delivered for safe custody to a competent witness,
— with the same calm assurance with which such a matter
Jacob's dying faith. 273
miglit have been adjusted in the pahniest days of Solomon's
reign. That must have been a striking and affecting spectacle
to the poor Jews about to be carried off to weep beside the
river of Babylon.
So now, at Jacob's deathbed, — and long after, when the
memory of that deathbed, traditionally preserved in song or
story, shed a ray of dim light on the darkness of the Eg5rptian
oppression, — this act of the patriarch, disposing of property in
Canaan in favour of his beloved son, as unhesitatingly as if he
were the actual owner of the whole country, must have served
to keep alive the steadfast belief in which Jacob died, that
" God would bring them again unto the land of their fathers."
In this view of the bequest, the precise locality of the
" portion" bequeathed, — and the precise manner in which Jacob
acquired it, — need not occasion much inquiry. It may have
been the identical spot which he purchased at Sychem, and
which he may have been forced afterwards to vindicate by
arms, against some unjust attempt to dispute his title. But be
that as it may, the portion was now, and for ages would con-
tinue to be, out of the reach of himself and his seed. He fore-
sees the long sojourn in Egypt already begun ; he knows that
the chosen seed are not to see Canaan for centuries. And
knowing that, he leaves the portion as a legacy to Joseph ;—
the faith in which he leaves it being a better legacy by far.
Thus, " by faith Jacob, when he was a dying, blessed both
the sons of Joseph ; and worshipped, leaning upon the top of
his staff" (Heb. xi. 21). The blessing which he pronounced
on his grandsons was an act of worship as well as an exercise of
faith ; it w^as a believing acknowledgment of the Eedeeming
Angel, in whose name it ran. There may have gone along with
it worship more express and formal. But the material point is
that the worship, whether virtual or explicit, was pilgrim-
worship. Jacob " worshipped upon the top of his staff." It
may have been for support to his feeble frame that he did so ;
his worshipping upon the top of his staff may be thus suflS-
VOL. II. T
274 THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH'S CHILDREN.
ciently accounted for. In leaning on it, however, lie must have
been reminded, by the very sense of his frailty that made him
lean on it, that he was a pilgrim on the earth, and that his
pilgrimage was very near its close. It is as one going on a
journey that he w^orships, when he blesses the sons of Joseph.
Staff in hand, he worships and blesses, — as, long afterwards, his
descendants were commanded to do when they kept the Pass-
over (Exod. xii. 11). He is going hence. His worship and his
blessing have respect to a hereafter, — to the resurrection state
in Avhich he himself, and Joseph's sons, and all his true seed,
are to receive the everlasting inheritance.
And what shall we say of Joseph's faith in all this strange
procedure 1 What is he doing here 1 He is giving up his two
sons to Jacob. He is consenting \drtually to their being dis-
inherited, as regards their position and prospects in Egypt. He
is casting in their lot A\ith the family now on the very brink of
servitude. A^liat a sacrifice for himself and them !
It does not appear that Joseph left, through any other son,
a name to be ranked among the nobles of the Egyptian court ;
there is no trace of his having founded a family. Ko explana-
tion can be given of that fact, especially in the view of his
bringing his sons to be blessed by Jacob, — except that he did
all by faith. It was with him as with Moses. "By faith
Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be called the son
of Pharaoh's daughter ; choosing rather to suffer affliction with
the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a
season ; esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than
the treasures in Eg}^t : for he had respect unto the recompence
of the reward" (Heb. xi. 24-26). Joseph made the same choice ;
and he made it in the exercise of the same faith.
JACOB'S DYING PROPHECY. 275
LXVL
JACOB'S DYING PEOPHECY— JUDAH'S EXALTED LOT—
SHILOH COMING.
Genesis xlix. 1-12,
My beloved is "white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. — The
Song of Solomon v. 10,
He brought me to the banqueting -house, and his banner over me was love.
The Song of Solomon ii. 4,
There is a solemn assembly in the patriarch's dying chamber,
— around his dying bed : " Jacob called unto his sons, and
said, Gather yourselves together" (ver, 1). " Gather your-
selves together," is his summons, — all of you, — not one cut off.
This is Jacob's privilege, above what his grandfather and his
father had. They had to submit to a pruning process, —
painfully losing natural branches, — that the promise might be
seen to be of grace, and of the election of grace. Abraham
had to give up Ishmael, born after the flesh, — and to consent
to his seed being called in Isaac, the son by promise. Isaac
had to let Esau go, and confirm the covenant in Jacob. But
in Jacob the family is one ; the heads of the chosen race are
complete. Expansion, not contraction, is henceforth to be the
rule. The stream is to be widened, and not narrowed any
more. All his sons are " gathered " round Jacob. They are
to learn what is to befall them in after time (ver. 1) ; they are
to listen to a far-reaching prophecy. It is no " Lochiel's
warning" of "coming events casting their shadows before," —
no dreamy oracle of gifted, second-sight diviner, — that they are
276 Jacob's dying prophecy.
to hear. Nor is it the utterance of such almost preternatural
sagacity of insight and foresight as has sometimes been sup-
posed to be the dying privilege of peculiarly saintly men.
The patriarch speaks under the inspiration of the Omniscient
Spiiit. He has really before him Ayhat is to befall his sons,
in their offspring, " in the last days."
These last days are the Messianic times. Jacob's eye of
faith and hope is fixed upon the advent of the promised
Saviour when he sees and sketches the nearer or remoter
fortunes of his descendants. On that back-ground the dif-
ferent destinies of the tribes of Israel stand out in bold relief
to his inspii'ed view.
" Hear," he cries, with voice divinely strengthened and
divinely moved, to pour out in a rapt divine song what he saw
in rapt divine vision, — " gather yourselves together, and hear,
ye sons of Jacob ; and hearken unto Israel your father" (ver.
2). Hear, ye sons of " Jacob." Ye are Jacob's sons, — sons
of " the worm Jacob," — in yourselves worms, as he is, — weak,
unworthy, vile. But your father is not " Jacob " merely ; he
is " Israel" also ; and it is "unto Israel your father" that you
are to " hearken." You are called as " sons of Jacob." You
are called to hearken to " your father Israel." So this
wonderful divine prophecy, or prophetic poem, is introduced.
The minute exposition of it I do not mean to undertake ;
a very cursory survey is all that I can attempt.
Two things may be noticed at the outset. First, It is partly
retrospective as well as prospective. It proceeds upon a
review of the past, as well as upon fore-knowledge of the
future. Jacob reads off the fortunes of his sons, in their re-
spective races, under the light of what they had shown them-
selves to be. This does not detract from the prophetic
character of the poem ; for its predictions are not sucli mere
conjectures as observation might suggest. But an important
principle in the divine administration is thus brought out. It
is that of transmitted character ; — and, within certain limits,
JUDAH'S exalted lot — SHILOH COMING. 277
transmitted destiny too. What his sons were, and what they
did, must tell powerfully, for weal or for woe, on what the
tribes that spring from them are to enjoy or suffer. Secondly,
The chief interest of the prophecy centres in two of its utter-
ances,— that about Judah, and that about Joseph, It may
thus be divided into two parts, in the first of which Judah is
conspicuous and pre-eminent, — in the second Joseph. And he,
it is to be kept in mind, is represented chiefly by his younger
son E^Dhraim.
Judah, then, on the one hand, and Joseph, or Ephriam, on
the other, — are the leading and prominent figures in this pro-
phetic picture. And all the subsequent history shows that the
tribes bearing these names played the principal part in the
working out of the destiny of the chosen nation ; — Judah in
the south, Ephraim in the north ; — Judah faithful to David's
line, Ej)hraim the head of the revolted provinces. So also, all
through the prophecies, Judah and Ephraim are the well-
known names of the two kingdoms.* Judah and Ephraim, —
which is Joseph, — are representative or leading tribes along
the whole line of the eventful history of the Jewish people.
And therefore they fitly occupy the prominent places in the
two parts of Jacob's dying oracle respectively. Judah stands
pre-eminent among the first four sons of Jacob (ver. 3-12);
Joseph, again, ranks as chief among the remaining eight (ver.
13-27).
Keeping these preliminary remarks in view, I now briefly
sketch the patriarch's successive oracles concerning the tribes
of Israel.
I. Reuben comes first (ver. 3, 4). He should have been
strong ; he proved himself to be " unstable as water." The con-
trast is emphatic and affecting, as it brings out what the old
man would have had his eldest son to be, and what he turned
out to be. My might, — the prime of my strength, — all that I
had of excellency, in respect of dignity or power, — all might
* Is. vii. 17 ; xi. 13 ; Ezek. xxxvii. 15-17 ; Hosea jMsstm.
278 Jacob's dying prophecy.
have been his. But he lost it all by his instability; he
wanted self-control. Impatient and impetuous, he was like an
unruly stream, soon spending its force, and then becoming-
languid. He had manifested this temperament in the com-
mission of a horrible crime. It was great wickedness ; but it
was great weakness too. His father fastens on the weakness
of it j the entii^e want of self-command which it too plainly
showed. And he foresees that, if this is to be the character
of his tribe, it must mar all prospect of high fame or fortune.
Did it not really do so when, upon the first success of
Moses, after the long wandering in the wilderness, Reuben
grasped at the earliest chance of repose and self-indulgence, —
and sought a settlement on the east of the Jordan, in the
first country conquered, before Canaan proper was reached ]
But besides his natural vice of instability, transmitted as a
hereditary taint to his tribe, we must recognise here also, as
affecting them as well as him, the judgment of God upon his
sin. The guilt he had contracted lost him his birthright, as
the inspired historian testifies (1 Chron. v. 1, 2). He was
still indeed to retain his place, in the reckoning of the gene-
alogy, as the first-born : but the rights and privileges of
primogeniture were to pass from him.
II. Simeon and Le\i, as next in order, have a joint oracle
given forth concerning them (ver. 5-7). Their father speaks
very plainly. He denounces unsparingly their sin, in the
matter of their sister Dinah. Their vile treachery and bloody
cruelty had troubled him at the time; and now, on his death-
bed, he looks back upon it with unabated, or rather "v^dth
enhanced, horror. He solemnly anathematises their fierce
anger and cruel 'wrath ; in fact, their share in their father's
last blessing is very like a curse. He does not indeed alto-
gether cast them out. They are still to be reckoned among
his sons, — and the tril^es springing from them are to be num-
bered among the people. But it is to be in a way marking
them out as the objects of retributive judgment. They are to
' JUDAH'S exalted lot — SHILOH COMIXG. 279
be " in Jacob," — "in Israel;" but they are to be "divided
in Jacob, and scattered in Israel." It is a hard sentence.
All the rest are to have quiet settlements in the land ; they
alone are to be, as it would seem, without fixed habitations.
That is their doom; the doom aj^parently of both alike.
But, as it turns out, there is a difference. And it is a differ-
ence illustrating both the goodness and the severity of God.
In Simeon's case there is severity ; the sentence takes effect
without mitigation. His tribe was from the first very small,
feeble, and insignificant. HoAvever respectable in point of
numbers at the Exodus (Num. i. 23), it seems to have lost
position and influence during the years of sojourn in the
wilderness ; for when the tribes had their several portions
assigned to them after the victories of Joshua, the children of
Simeon had their inheritance within that of the children of
Judah (Josh. xix. 9; Judges i. 3, 17). It was otherwise
with Levi. The sentence was indeed executed even more
literally upon his posterity than upon that of Simeon. But
it was turned from a curse into a blessing. It was over -ruled
for their highest good. They had no separate inheritance of
their OAvn among their brethren. But they had the Lord
himself for their inheritance (Deut. x. 9). " Divided in Jacob
and scattered in Israel " they were. But it was in the
character of the chosen priests and ministers of the Lord.
HI. Eeuben, Simeon, and Levi being disposed of and set
aside, Judah comes upon the field 'of the patriarch's \dsion.
He has listened with trembling awe to the stern denunciation
of the crimes of his elder brothers. He too has sins upon his
conscience that may well shake his nerves. His sons have
been born in uncleanness, — and he has had a hand in selling
Joseph into Egypt, though it might be said that it was to save
his life. But no such ban lies upon him as lay upon the
three that went before. We may gather from his noble
speech before Joseph, that his filial and fraternal love was
pure and strong. He is one who can understand his father ;
280 JACOBS DYING PROPHECY.
and feel for him and A\dtli liim more than the rest could do.
And at all events, the purpose of God according to the elec-
tion of grace must stand. It is in Judah that the seed of
Abraham is to be called. In him the d^-dng Israel " sees the
day of Christ afar off and is glad." His song is now a song of
triumphant jubilation and joy.
Judah is to verify in his history the significant name
which he got in his bii'th (ver. 8). When his mother Leah
bare him, she said, " Now will I praise the Lord," therefore
she called his name Judah. His name is Praise. Others as
well as his mother are to call his name Praise ; his brethren
are to praise him (ver. 8) ; he is to be pre-eminent among them
by their own consent. For the victories he is to win over his
enemies and theirs, his father's children are to yield him
allegiance and loyal service (ver. 8). He is to be lion-like in
his power and prowess (ver. 9). As the king of the forest, he
is to master his prey ; — as the young lion, springing upon it ;
— as the old lion, couching and terrible when roused. He is
to be invincible in war. And above all, he is to be a
legitimate prince, a la^vful ruler, and he is to continue to be
so until another rise, one springing from him, — in whom at
last his high and blessed destiny is to be fulfilled — "until
ShHohcome" (ver. 10).
AYho is this Shiloh 1 And what does his name import %
The aged seer beholds him, and hails him. Far on in the
stream of time, — along the royal line of the son whose name is
Praise, he catches sight of another son, whose name is Peace !
Judah, thou art Praise ! Thou art to be a conqueror.
Thou art to have a lion's strength. Thou art to reign and
decree justice. I see before me all thy glorious lot. But in
thee, through thee, behind thee, I see another, — one greater
than thou art. Lo ! he comes. He who is Peace, — " our
peace," — comes. And as I see him coming, what a scene
bursts upon my ravished sight, my straining eyes !
L What a "gathering together in one of all things in
JUDAH'S exalted lot — SHILOH COMING. 281
him!" (Eplies. i. 10). " Unto liim shall the gathering of the
people be" (ver. 10). Nations are flowing to him, — multi-
tudes of all tongues and kindreds. AVell they may. For he
is giving peace, — he is speaking peace ; — peace from heaven ;
— peace on earth. Shiloh comes ; all wars cease ; all the
nations are one in him.
2. And with what plenty of all richest and choicest
blessings do I see him loaded ! — " Binding his foal unto the
vine, and his ass's colt unto the choice vine ; he washed his
garments in wine, and his clothes in the blood of grapes " (ver.
11). He comes — a prince, — "thy king," 0 Israel, — "meek,
riding on an ass, and on a colt the foal of an ass." He comes
to travel no more, but to tarry. It is in the midst of a most
fruitful vineyard ; he binds his humble steed to one of its
noblest trees. " This is my rest, — here Avill I stay." The
wine is flomng copiously ; the red blood of the grapes is so
abundant that he w^ashes his garments in it. The nations
gathering round him partake of all this fulness. They drink
the wine with him in the kingdom.
3. And then how fair is this glorious peacemaker, this
bountiful and blessed prince, as I see him coming ! — " His
eyes shall be red with wine, and his teeth white with milk "
(ver. 1 2). Shiloh comes ; — " fairer than the sons of men "
(Ps. xlv. 2). " My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest
among ten thousand. His mouth is most sweet ; yea, he is
altogether lovely" (Song v. 10, 16). What brightness in
his eye ! — what milk-w^hite beauty in his teeth ! My soul is
ravished with his loveliness and his love. 0 let Shiloh come.
Come, thou who art all my salvation and all my desire ; yea,
come quickly.
I need not stay to show how the history of the tribe of
Judah corresponded, in all its leading outlines, to the pro-
phetic sketch of it given so long before by Jacob. Very early
Judah began to have a certain acknowledged pre-eminence
among the tribes of Israel. The first place in the march, in
282 JACOB'S DYING PROPHECY.
the battle, in the encampment, would seem to have been
assigned from the very beginning to Judah. In the land of
promise Judah soon began to acquire a position and influence
which none of the rest of the tribes could challenge. In
David and his victories ; in Solomon and his glory ; in the
unbroken line of their descendants ; in the preserving of the
royal family through the capti\dty of Babylon and all sub-
sequent changes, — in humble circumstances, indeed, but still
distinguishable as inheriting a right to reign wliich none but
they could claim ; — in all this we clearly trace the fulfilment
of the oracle ; — ^the exaltation of Judah fully consummated, —
and perpetuated also till the appointed era arrived.
But I must offer a word of explanation as to the view
which I have ventured to give of the closing portion of the
oracle concerning him. I assume, as all but universally ad-
mitted, that the Messiah is the party indicated by the name
Shiloh. Usually, however, the reference to him is restricted
to the few words in the tenth verse " until Shiloh come, and
unto him shall the gathering of the people be." The eleventh
and twelfth verses are applied to Judah ; and are understood
as describing the luxuriant fertility of the portion that the
tribe of Judah had in Canaan, — its overflowing fulness of
fruit and fruitfulness.
Now this application of these verses is open to some
remarks. First, it is by no means clear that Judah's portion
deserved to be so glowingly depicted; the language is too
rich for that. Then, secondly, there is great awkwardness in
the introduction of this abrupt reference to the Messiah as
merely, and so briefly, parenthetical. But, thirdly, there is no
incongruity at all, if we take what is said by Jacob, after his
mention of Shiloh, as being all said of that illustrious per-
sonage. Israel sees Judah first, and then Shiloh ; he no more
sees Judah at all, but only Shiloh ; he has done ^vitli Judah ;
Shiloh is all in all. And finally, the description that follows
is in entire harmony with the Messianic prophecies of later
JUDAH'S exalted lot — SHILOH COMING. 283
days. Nay more, I cannot but discern in tins old Messianic
oracle the germs of some of the Messianic characteristics which
later prophecies have acknowledged and developed. Thus, in
the " foal and ass's colt," may we not have the rudimentary
idea of what was afterwards expanded by Zechariah into the
prophecy which was literally fulfilled in our Lord's triumphant
entry into Jerusalem (Zech. ix. 9). It was no mere arbitrary
sign that was thus given beforehand by the prophet. It was
the index of a meek and lowly mind, such as becomes Shiloh
— the Prince of Peace. Though he is the lion of the tribe of
Judah, he does not multiply horses, as the kings that affected
oriental pomp used to do, against the express commandment of
the law. He rides, like the old Judges, on an ass, and a colt,
the foal of an ass ; in humble guise ; willing to be as the
poorest of the people. Then again, is not the image of wine,
the blood of the grape, a very common emblem of the spiritual
refreshment which the Messiah has to bestow 1 The idea of
its abundance, even to the washing of his garments in it, is in
thorough keeping with subsequent prophetic symbols. And
once more, may we not see in the picture of beauty briefl}^
drawn at the close of all — " His eyes shall be red with wine,
and his teeth white with milk " (ver. 12). — what might be the
suggestive source of not a little of the language used in the
• Song, to bring out the rapturous admiration in which the
Bridegroom King is held by his loving spouse ?
Taken thus, the sublime utterance of Israel is consistent
with itself, and worthy of its occasion and its o1:)ject. He
does full justice to Judah. He invests him with all the natural
attributes of strength, and all the conventional insignia of rank
and power. He salutes him as raised to the highest pinnacle
of earthly glory. But exactly then, and at that point, Judah
disappears from his range of vision ; and he does not come
upon it again. It is all filled with the surpassing glory of one
far greater than Judah ; coming with peace, as well as praise,
for his name ; — coming to " gather into one all things in
284 JACOB'S DYING PROPHECY.
himself;" — coming triumphant, but meek and lowly in his
triumph ; — coming to shed abroad from himself all abundance
of wine ; — coming to be " glorified in his saints and admired
in all them that believe."
How much, or how little, the patriarch knew of a previous
coming of that illustrious one, — to obey, and suffer, and die, —
we cannot tell. He knew at least that " without shedding of
blood there is no remission," and that " through much tribu-
lation lies the entrance into the kingdom of heaven." We
who live now, under the partial realisation of Jacob's great
vision, know all that better than he could do. We know
" Christ and him crucified." We know Jesus, who was once
crucified, as now exalted at the right hand of God. But do we
fix our eye as steadfastly as Jacob did on what is our hope
now ; — the fuller realisation of this vision at the glorious ap-
pearing of the Lord from heaven ? Do the w^ords — " till
Shiloh come " — cause our hearts to thrill as they did the heart
of dying Jacob 1 Do we enter into the mind of him who,
ages afterwards, as he closed the volume of the Eevelation,
exclaimed, " Even so come, Lord Jesus " 1
WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 285
LXVII.
WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD-
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
Genesis xlix. 18.
I have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord.
This is a remarkable ejaculation in the circumstances. What
can it mean 1 Is it a part of the oracle about Dan, at the
close of which it comes in 1 Is it Dan who is to be under-
stood as using these words 1 Does Jacob put them into the
mouth of that tribe as expressive of their future character 1
Or is it the old man speaking for himself — breaking out, in
the midst of what he feels to be his somewhat weary work, into
a pathetic appeal to God for rest ?
Whatever may be its import, I cannot but take it to be
the utterance of his own emotion ; the irrepressible sighing of
his own heart. Perhaps it indicates some little disajDpoint-
ment. The picture of the prospective fortunes of his house
which the Spirit is setting before liim is not all bright. On
the contrary, it has in it too many features of resemblance to
what he has already met with in his actual family history.
The future is to be too like the past ; what his sons have been
their several posterities are to be. Reuben, Simeon, Levi,
have passed in review before his divinely opened eyes, with
little to give him comfortable hope. In Juclah, indeed, he has
seen a glorious sight — Shiloh coming and gathering to him all
nations — the king, meek, and riding upon an ass — setting up
a kingdom of peace and plenty — resting and giving rest amid
286 WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
overflowing abundance of wine of the choicest grapes — himself
all fair — " the chiefest among ten thousand, and altogether
lovely." But the very glimpse he has thus got of Messiah's
royal beauty causes a kind of reaction. It is brief and
evanescent, like a flash of light across the dark and lowering
sky. He has instantly to change his hand and check his
pride. The strain has risen for a moment to heaven's holy
harmony of joy and glory -, it comes down again at once to
earth's broken music. The burden may not be quite so heavy
as before. Elements of material prosperity are in the busy
scenes which its glowing language depicts. There is Zebulun
along the sea-coast, almost rivalling great Zidon in its com-
merce (ver. 1 3). Issachar also is seen stretching his lazy length
in his rich inland valleys, unambitious of distinction in policy or
^yar — content with the alternate animal rest and servile toil of
a rude life of rural safety and abundance (ver. 14, 15). And
Dan rises conspicuous — giving rulers and judges to all Israel
■ — having the msdom of the serpent, at least, if not the harm-
lessness of the dove, to help him forward (ver. 16, 17). So
far, there is a somewhat better outlook for them than for the
first three. But it is not quite such as to satisfy the patriarch.
His spirit, wrought up to its highest pitch by what he has
seen of Shiloh in Judah, feels, as it were, a shock, a jar. Is
this all he is to get of insight into the grace and glory of him
wdiose. day he sees afar off" with such gladness of heart ? Must
he have his mind again filled with images of mere terrestrial
significancy 1 This is not quite what he thinks he might have
anticipated ; it . is not exactly what he would have desired.
" I have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
What it was that Jacob waited for may be made matter
of doubtful disputation. Any signal deliverance VTOught by
God may be called, in Scripture language, " his salvation."
The miracle of the Red Sea is so called (Exod. xiv. 1 3) ; and
so also is the \dctory granted to the good king Jehoshaphat,
upon his praj^er and fasting, without his army striking a blow
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 287
(2 Chron. xx. 17). In these and similar instances the meaning
is fixed by the connection in which the expression stands.
But it occurs very often, indeed for the most part, with
nothing to restrict or qualify it — especially in the Psalms,
and in some chapters of Isaiah. " My salvation," says the
Lord to the church. And the church, or the believer, answers,
" Thy salvation, 0 Lord."
AMien thus used absolutely, without any particular event
being specified, it may denote simply the Lord's saving power
and grace generally ; and thus understood, it includes much
that is fitted to awaken interest and call forth desire. That
God saves, — and how God saves, — are the two parts of it ; —
both of them, if we look at them in the right light, not a little
wonderful. In the first place, that God saves at all, — that he
can save, being such as he is, and men being such as they are,
is not quite so much a matter of course as we are apt to fancy.
For, let us remember, it is such salvation as can be called his,
emphatically his, — that is now in question; — such salvation
as may be fitly and worthily ascribed to him. And therefore,
secondly, the manner of it is all-important, — how he saves.
An insight into that is indispensable.
" Thy salvation, 0 Lord," — thy manner of saving ! How
it is possible for thee to save at all, — upon what principles,
after what fashion, thou art minded to save, — what may make
it possible for thee to save, if I may so say, safely, — without
derogating from thine infinite perfections, — without prejudice
to thyself, 0 Lord, and to the glorious majesty of thy throne
and law, — that to me is a m.arvel ! It is a mystery, — the
knowledge of it is too wonderful for me. " It is high, I
cannot attain unto it."
Thou hast indeed been a saviour to me, 0 Lord ! Thou
hast been so on many an occasion, in many a danger, in m^any
a trying hour. Thou hast been continually " delivering my
soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from fall-
ing " (Ps. cxvi. 8).
288 WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
Surely thy dealings with me personally prove that thou
savest, — that it is thy delight, thy very nature, to save. And
they teach something also as to the manner of thy salvation j
— how much there is in it of long-suffering patience, generous
forbearance, tender pity; — how much there is in it also of
utterly undeserved and gratuitous loving-kindness ; — how much
of wisdom and kind consideration ; — how much of what is
fitted to touch the conscience and win the heart.
Still there is darkness. That thy salvation should be of
such a sort in my case, — that thou shouldst have so saved, so
often, such an one as I am, — is to my mind only an aggravation
of the darkness.
Nor is the darkness dispelled when I look away from my
own personal history to other instances of thy power to save.
These have been very terrible in many of their accompani-
ments,— so terrible, that in spite of all that I have tasted of
thy saving goodness, I may well doubt if I am really saved
after all, — I who have so abused thy goodness that even it
may all the more condemn me. I cannot but ask if the
deluge of vTath must not at last be my portion, rather than
the ark of safety, — the fire of Sodom's judgment, rather than
the little city Zoar.
Nay, even the sacrificial rite which I have been accustomed
to observe, — the plunging of the knife into the innocent victim
slain in my stead, — can only very partially chase the gloom
away. The awful truth it proclaims, that " without shedding
of blood there is no remission," does but suggest the anxious
question, — Can this blood suffice ^
Ah ! it might well be with deep and poignant grief that
the dying Israel, feeling himself to be still, — to be at that
dread moment more than ever, — the poor, weak, sinful worm,
Jacob, — uttered this plaintive voice, in the midst of his pro-
phesying,— " I have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
He had thought he was now at last to obtain full satis-
faction. He would gladly have laid an arrest on the bright
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 289
and beauteous form that flitted past him, as he saw for a
moment the coming Shiloh. Fain would he have sought leave
to gaze on him a little longer ; — if by any means he might see
in him any sign of a better ransom than " the blood of bulls
or of goats " could ever furnish. But the vision vanishes
swiftly and sadly from his view. The great problem of recon-
ciling the final welfare of the guilty with interests of even
higher moment in the righteous government of the Most High,
— the question of questions, — " How can man be just with
God V — How can God himself be " a just God and a Saviour?"
— is scarcely at all more clearly solved than it was before. It
is still as one who has not yet attained that he has to say ; " I
have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
May not something of the same spirit be traced in other
Old Testament references, — especially in the Psalms and in
Isaiah, — to the salvation of the Lord ; and in the attitude of
the church, or of the believer, towards that salvation ?
Thus in the thirty-fifth Psalm, we have such supplications
as these : " Plead my cause, 0 Lord, with them that strive
against me ; — Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation." " My
soul shall be joyful in the Lord, it shall rejoice in his salva-
tion" (ver. 1, 3, 9). Here there is waiting for the salvation of
the Lord, — waiting in confident expectation. It is waiting
under a cloud. It is waiting under the cloud occasioned by
the triumph of the ungodly, in their persecution of the right-
eous; — "For without cause have they hid for me their
net in a pit, which without cause they have digged for my
soul" (ver. 7). The problem, the question, is still virtu-
ally the same. How is the riddle of God's providence to be
read?
I cannot be at rest while I see violence and wrong prevail-
ing,— and the meek ready to perish. But I know that the
Lord reigneth in righteousness. There must be a time, not
only of righteous deliverance for his poor and oppressed ones,
but of righteous reckoning with their oppressors. I confidently
VOL. II. U
290 WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
anticiiDate such a time. Therefore I say that " my soul shall
be joyful in the Lord ;" — " it shall rejoice in thy salvation," —
for which " I have waited, 0 Lord." It is no malignant joy
in human misery ; it is the joy of seeing God's character
vindicated, and his rule upheld, by his own righteous method
of deliverance being at last realised and fulfilled.
Then, again, the fiftieth Psalm closes emphatically thus : —
" Whoso ofFereth praise glorifieth me : and to him that
ordereth his conversation aright will I show the salvation of
God" (ver. 23), That is God's own promise. He will show
to the upright the divine salvation, — the only sort of salva-
tion that is worthy of himself. Let us remember the argument
of that fiftieth Psalm. After a tender expostulation with those
who are really his own among the people, for not trusting,
loving, and praying to him enough, — and a terrible denuncia-
tion of those who are merely hypocrites and self-deceivers, —
who take God's covenant in their mouth and yet conform to
the world and its wicked ways, — the Lord finds the source, at
once of the weak unstead fastness of the godly, and of the
reckless presumption of the worldly, in the " silence " which
in his providence he is now " keeping," and the too common
and natural misinterpretation and abuse of that silence on the
part of both sorts or classes of men. It is the silence of for-
bearance, and of the delay of judgment, which encourages the
profane and is apt to perplex the pious. But both will soon
have light enough on the only way of salvation that is con-
sistent with righteousness. " These things hast thou done,
and I kept silence, — thou thoughtest I was altogether such an
one as thyself, — but I will reprove thee, and set them in order
before thine eyes." There is to be a speaking out, on the part
of him who is now " keeping silence." And it is in connec-
tion with that prospect that it is said ; — " To him that order-
eth his conversation aright, will I show the salvation of God."
I will show him the salvation that alone can be of God ; — the
salvation that is righteous as well as gracious. Therefore such
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 291
a one may confidently and humbly reply, — " I wait," — I have
waited, and will still wait, — " for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
But it is in the 1 1 9th Psalm pre-eminently that this great
thought of the Lord's salvation is made matter of devout
meditation and prayer. " Quicken me in thy righteousness.
Let thy mercies come also unto me, 0 Lord ; even thy salva-
tion, according to thy word " (ver. 40, 41). " Let my heart
be sound in thy precepts, that I be not ashamed ; my
soul fainteth for thy salvation ; but I hope in thy word "
(ver. 80, 81). "Mine eyes fail for thy salvation, and for the
word of thy righteousness " (ver. 123). " Lord, I have hoped
for thy salvation, and done thy commandments " (ver. 166).
" I have longed for thy salvation, 0 Lord, and thy law is my
delight" (ver. 174).
Surely all this is indeed " waiting for the salvation of the
Lord ! " And it is the waiting of one who is thoroughly on
the side and in the interests of God ; of his " righteousness,"
his "precepts," his "word;" "the word of his righteousness,"
his " commandments," his " law."
In every instance in which he speaks of the salvation of
the Lord, the Psalmist speaks of it in connection with a prior
and paramount recognition of the Lord's own character and
claims. (1.) " Let thy salvation come to me ;" (2.) " my soul
fainteth for thy salvation;" (3.) "mine eyes fail for thy
salvation;" (4.) "I have hoped for thy salvation;" (5.) "I
have longed for thy salvation ; " these are strong, earnest, and
emphatic breathings of devout desire. But as to the first,
the salvation must come "according ^o thy word;" as to the
second, " my heart must be sound in thy precepts ;" as to the
third, thy salvation must be identical with " the word of thy
righteousness;" while the fourth and fifth stand connected
with the devout profession : — " I have done thy command-
ments,"— " Thy law is my delight."
No salvation could content me that is not in harmony
with these high and holy principles ; — these deep convictions
292 WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
of my soul. No salvation could approve itself as thine that
did not meet this inexorable condition.
But the Psalmist feels that in none of the salvations with
which he is familiar, whether personal, or domestic, or national,
is it met adequately and sufficiently. Much there is in all of
them to manifest both the goodness and the severity of God ;
for there are always tokens of his displeasure against sin,
in the midst of all his loving-kindness to the sinner. But in
none of them can either retributive justice or saving mercy
be seen to be complete, and to have its perfect work. Both
the righteousness and the grace halt, and fail of their full
accomplishment. The onlooker is still staggered by the seem-
ing impunity of evil ; only a partial and doubtful victory being
secured on the side of good. If he is of one mind with the
Psalmist, — if he is of one mind with the Psalmist's Lord, — he
waits for what, as being more thoroughly according to his
law, may more worthily be called " his salvation."
In a remarkable series of prophecies in Isaiah (xhi.-lvi.),
the Lord speaks of " his salvation." And he speaks of it as
no longer to be waited for, at least not much longer, but as
now at hand and mthin reach. " I bring near my righteous-
ness ; it shall not be far off, and my salvation shall not tarry ;
and I will place salvation in Zion for Israel my glory" (Is.
xlvi. 1 3). " My righteousness is near ; my salvation is gone
forth, and mine arms shall judge the people ; the isles shall
wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust" (Is. li. 5).
" Thus saith the Lord, Keep ye my judgment, and do justice ;
for my salvation is near to come, and my righteousness to be
revealed" (Is. Ivi. 1).
This salvation of the Lord is brought near in the train of
righteousness — his own righteousness. What righteousness
that is, the description of the Messiah which stands in the
very heart of this glorious evangelical prophecy, indicates
beyond all possibility of doubt.
For, in the fifty-third chapter, not only is the fact of the
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 293
Lord's salvation being near confirmed, but the manner of it
also is declared ; — and in so far as that can be done before-
hand, it is declared clearly and fully. The righteousness of
God : — a righteousness that is in every view his, — provided by
him, wrought out by him, accepted by him, applied by him ;
a righteousness infinitely Vv'-ortliy of him, and therefore worthy
of being [called his ; — commensurate with his own perfect
righteousness of nature ; — corresponding perfectly to the right-
eousness of his government and law ; — a righteousness having
in it both precious blood to expiate deadly guilt and sinless
obedience to win eternal life; — such a righteousness, in the holy
person and atoning work of him whom the prophet describes
as " wounded for our transgressions," — goes before, and opens
up the way for, the Lord's salvation ; — a salvation as worthy
of him, and of being called his, as is the righteousness wdiich
is its pioneer ; — such a salvation as the Psalmist had before
his eyes ; — such a salvation as Jacob would fain have seen,
when he said ; " I have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
Need I trace this thought running through the Old Testa-
ment, any farther ] Let me simply bring it down to Gospel
times.
The aged Simeon here sufficiently shows the way. He
was one who could say with Jacob ; " I have waited for thy
salvation, 0 Lord." But he had not to say it exactly as Jacob
had to say it. The patriarch must be content to depart with
the language, so far, of ungratified curiosity, or rather, of
unsatisfied desire, on his lips — " I have waited." Not so this
"just and devout" man. He " waited for the consolation of
Israel," — the salvation of the Lord. But he was not to have
to say, even at the last, " I have waited ; " that was not to be
his dying ejaculation. For " it was revealed unto him by the
Holy Ghost that he should not see death before he had seen
the Lord's Christ." And accordingly in the temple he took
up the child Jesus in his arms and blessed God and said ;
" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according
294 WArriNG for the salvation of the lord.
to thy word : for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." He
saw the Lord's anointed Saviour, and the Lord's way of saving
Jew and Gentile by him. He saw the tribulation through
which, in righteousness, the salvation was to be accomplished.
He saw the sharp sword that was to pierce alike the Saviour
and the saved. He saw the light and glory for which the
sharp sword was to open up the way (Luke ii. 25-35).
Simeon's attitude, rather than Jacob's, may be said to be
ours. And yet may not the two be combined ? May we not
enter all the more into Jacob's "waiting," the more we enter
into Simeon's " seeing 1 " We should be able to say, with a
fulness of meaning which even Simeon could not grasp, that
our eyes have seen the salvation of the Lord. Not the infant
Jesus in the temple has been disclosed to us, — but besides, the
man Christ Jesus, — in his life, and death, and resurrection ;
teaching, doing good, obeying and suffering. Christ crucified,
Christ glorified, it is ours to see ; to see in the light of in-
spired apostolic revelation ; to see with eye opened and
purged by the same Spirit who inspired that revelation.
Truly, we see the salvation of the Lord as Simeon could
scarcely be said to see it !
What then 1 Is there to be no more waiting for it ?
Nay, if we see it as Simeon could scarcely see it, we will say
with more intensity than Jacob could say : "I have waited,
— I wait, — for thy salvation, 0 Lord." For this surely .is a
case in which it must hold true " that increase of appetite
grows by what it feeds on." The more we see of the salva-
tion, the more we wait for something more of it still to be
seen. In fact, there can be no real waiting without some
seeing. Jacob must have been able, in some measure, to
enter into Simeon's grateful acknowledgment, — " Mine eyes
have seen thy salvation ; " else he never would have felt his
own longing, — " I have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
And Simeon, when he found what had been revealed to him
fulfilled, and could say, " Mine eyes have seen thy salvation,"
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 295
did not cease to wait, — nay rather he waited all the more, —
" for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
For the salvation of the Lord ; — what it is ; of what sort,
and in what way effected ; how the Lord saves, and all that is
implied in his saving ; — is as immense and inexhaustible as is
his own infinite fulness, — the "fulness of the Godhead" that
" dwells bodily in Christ." Therefore, for deeper insight into
it and for larger enjoyment of it, there must always be wait-
ing,— waiting evermore. Even in eternity there is waiting
for it. The dying saint, — the dying sinner scarcely daring to
own the name of saint, weary and way-worn, conscious of little
in himself but ignorance, infirmity, and unbelief, yet still hold-
ing on, — may be apt almost to complain — " I have waited for
thy salvation, 0 Lord ;" and alas ! I seem to have been
waiting all but in vain ! What of its light and joy is mine 1
What of its sensible comfort? What of its full assurance?
What of its beatific vision ? its rapture 1 its triumph 1 AVhat
of the outburst — " I know, I see, I mount, I fly T' Depressed
and doubting, or at the best, " faint yet pursuing," — he asks,
Is this then, after all, the salvation that I have been waiting
for, 0 Lord 1 Is this indeed thy salvation ? Nay it is not.
It is not, at least, the whole of it. Be thankful for the
earnest of it, which is "waiting for it." Thou hast been
waiting for it ; and thou mayst have to wait for it still.
Waiting for it is thy security now ; waiting for it will be thine
eternal joy in heaven.
Let no one therefore ever say, dying or living, in any other
spirit than that in which Jacob said it — " I have waited for
thy salvation, 0 Lord." For, with whatever sense of the
vanity of earthly things, and the unsatisfactory nature of even
the best earthly prospects, for himself and his, he said it, — of
one thing we may be sure, he did not say it in the spirit of
unbelief On the contrary, if I am right in my impression of
what he meant, he was moved to say it by the very sight his
faith had just got of Shiloh coming. He had hoped to have
296 WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
seen more of him ; for in liim he saw the salvation for which
he had waited. But let him have seen ever so much more of
him, he must still have gone away from earth unsatisfied.
And let him have seen ever so Httle, he is in a position, as he
goes away, to say with Simeon, " Mine eyes have seen thy
salvation."
How is this salvation to be waited for ? AVhat is implied
in waiting for it 1 Let one or two texts give the answer.
1. " Surely his salvation is nigh them that fear him " (Ps.
Ixxxv. 9). Do we " fear him ?" Do we deprecate the Lord's
wrath, as that Psalm does 1 — " Cause thine anger against us
to cease;" "Wilt thou be angry with us for ever]" "Wilt
thou draw out thine anger to all generations V Are we as
much in earnest as the Psalmist is about God's favour toward
us, and our revival toward him 1 " Thou hast been favourable ; "
" Thou hast forgiven ; " " Wilt thou not revive us again, that thy
people may rej oice in thee V Do we thus wait for his salvation 1
— " Show us thy mercy, 0 Lord, and grant us thy salvation."
Do we moreover wait in the attitude of obedient faith, — " I will
hear what God the Lord will speak ;" and of believing hope,
— " for he will speak peace to his people, and to his saints ;"
and of thorough separation from evil and an evil world, —
"let them not turn again to folly'"? Then, surely, his salvation
is nigh to us, as " to them that fear him." All the more it is
so, if we make what follows your own special and personal
prayer ; " That glory may dwell in our land, mercy and truth
meeting together, righteousness and peace kissing each other."
2. For, as another Psalm puts it (xcvi. 2), if like Simeon,
we see — and like Jacob, we wait for — the Lord's salvation ;
let us " sing unto the Lord, and bless his name, and show
forth his salvation from day to day."
Yes ! let us show forth his salvation ; let us tell all men
that he saves, and how he saves ; let us make known the way
of saving grace. The more we do so the more shall we have
of insight and experience — of hope and expectation — with
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 297
regard to it. Both Simeon and Jacob tried that method ; let us
try it also. The more we try it, the more shall we have cause
to say with Simeon, "Mine eyes have seen thy salvation;" —
and with Jacob, " I have waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
3. The actual result or issue, present or prospective, of
this " showing of the Lord's salvation," is a great help to us
in our own experience, as " seeing it," and yet "waiting for it."
The Psalmist celebrates, in anticipation, a glorious time, " 0
sing unto the Lord a new song ; for he hath done marvellous
things : his right hand and his holy arm, hath gotten him the
victory. The Lord hath made known his salvation ; his
righteousness hath he openly showed in the sight of the
heathen. He hath remembered his mercy and his truth
toward the house of Israel : all the ends of the earth have
seen the salvation of our God" (Ps. xcviii. 1-3). So also does
the prophet. " The Lord hath made bare his holy arm in the
eyes of all the nations ; and all the ends of the earth shall see
the salvation of our God" (Is. Hi. 10). Who can doubt that
when these days come, there will be a " seeing of the Lord's
salvation," with Simeon ; and a " waiting for it," with Jacob,
greatly beyond what there is of either now 1 And yet, might
there not be even now more than there is of insight and
sympathy — of experience and hope — as regards this salvation
of the Lord ] Let there be realised, on a small scale, under
our immediate cognisance, what we believe is to be realised
universally, under the eyes of all intelligences at last — a fresh
original exhibition of the poAver of saving truth over the
consciences and affections of men. Let us throw ourselves,
heart and soul, into the midst of any saving work of the Lord
— personally at home or by sympathy abroad. Let us lay
ourselves alongside of any one soul into whose mouth the
Lord has put the new song, and enter into the marvellous
things which the Lord hath done for that soul. Our seeing
the Lord's salvation for ourselves — -our waiting for it — will
thus become, more and more, seeing and waiting indeed.
298 WAITING FOR THE SALVATION OF THE LORD.
4. Let tlie saying in Lamentations (iii. 26) be kept in
mind : " It is good for a man both to hope, and quietly to
wait for the salvation of God." Let no man object to a
waiting posture, — even though it should continue to be a
waiting posture to the end ; — even though he should feel
as if it is all waiting, and only waiting, that he has to acknow-
ledge as his experience ; — " I have waited for thy salvation,
0 Lord." For this waiting posture is very becoming and
very blessed. It is good to wait ; — not to wait in indolence,
or idleness, or indifference ; — not to wait with the slus-srard's
folded hands, or the fatalist's dark, stern, moody apathy of
soul ; but to wait intelligently ;-^with desire and hope ; — to
wait, because we know something of the blessedness of what
we wait for : — to wait in patience, because what we have
already tasted of what we wait for is so rich a boon, and so
thoroughly undeserved, that we may well be content to wait,
ever so long, for ever so little more of it.
As regards the Lord's first coming, and its immediate
fruit, there should be on our part, as on Simeon's, the actual,
present seeing of the salvation of the Lord. The righteous-
ness in the train of which it comes is not to be waited for.
That is near ; Christ is near, " Jehovah our righteousness."
" Moses describeth the righteousness which is of the law,
That the man which doeth those things shall live by them.
But the righteousness which is of faith speaketh on this wise,
Say not in thine heart. Who shall ascend into heaven 1 (that
is, to bring Christ down from above) or, Who shall descend
into the deep 1 (that is, to bring up Christ again from the
dead). But what saith it 1 The word is nigh thee, even in
thy mouth, and in thy heart : that is, the word of faith
which we preach ; that if thou shalt confess with thy moutli
the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God
hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For
with the heart man believeth unto righteousness ; and with
the mouth confession is made unto salvation. For the scrip-
SEEING THE SALVATION OF THE LORD. 299
ture saith, Whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed"
(Rom. X. 5-11).
Not waiting therefore, — but looking, seeing, embracing, —
is our duty and privilege, when Christ is set forth as come,
already come, — crucified, already crucified, — risen, already
risen ; — " delivered for our ofi'ences, and raised again for our
justification."
But he cometh again. " Unto them that look for him
shall he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation "
(Heb. ix. 28). And looking for him now is waiting for him,
with " loins girt and lamjDS burning." It is watching also, as
not knowing at what hour the Master may come ; but yet
" knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of
sleep, for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed"
(Rom. xiii. 11).
300 CLOSE OF JACOB'S DYING PROPHECY
LXVIIL
CLOSE OF JACOB'S DYING PROPHECY— THE BLESSING
ON JOSEPH.
Genesis xlix. 19-32.
Now I am come to make thee understand what shall befall th}^ people in
the latter days : for yet the vision is for many days. — Daniel x. 14.
Let the blessing come upon the head of Joseph, and upon the top of the
head of him that was separated fi'om his brethren. — Duet, xxxiii. 16.
Op the twelve tribes, as represented by his twelve sons, in
this last oracular vaticination of " Jacob who is Israel,"
three are connected, as it would seem, with Jtidah — namely,
Eeuben, Simeon, and Levi, — the other seven belong more
properly to Joseph.
These last are called in order. Zebulun, Issachar, and Dan
come first. At Dan, the patriarch pauses for a moment.
Under the somewhat disappointing impression of a descent
from the glorious vision of the Messiah, vouchsafed to him in
connection with Judah, he utters the ejaculation, " I have
waited for thy salvation, 0 Lord ;" and then he resumes his
task The remaining members of his household pass in
review before him, — Gad, Asher, Naphtali, Joseph, and Ben-
jamin. With the exception of Joseph, they are all very
summarily disposed of
The utterances regarding them indeed are so brief and
enigmatical as to defy, at this distance of time, anything like
a really discriminating application of them, or a trustworthy
THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH. 301
historical verification of them. They doubtless suggested marks
and badges, of which a college of heralds might have made
good use in emblazoning the escutcheons and banners of the
tribes. Gad is represented as a multitudinous host, with signs in
its ranks both of defeat and of victory, — but ending in victory ;
" Gad, a troop shall overcome him ; but he shall overcome at the
last" (ver. 1 9). Asher is a giver, or receiver, of rich and princely
banquets ; " Out of Asher his bread shall be fat, and he shall
yield royal dainties " (ver. 20). Naphtali is an animal of speed
and beauty running at large, and uttering pleasant voices ;
" Naphtali is a hind let loose : he giveth goodly words " (ver.
21). And Benjamin is an animal sly and predatory, prowling
secretly in the dark for victims ; " Benjamin shall ravin as a
wolf : in the morning he shall devour the prey, and at night
he shall divide the spoil" (ver. 27).
These are all significant enough delineations ; they may
have served as watchwords among the tribes when their
fortunes came to be developed. And it is not difficult to trace
points of correspondence between the curt hints thus addressed
to his sons, and the actual circumstances of their families
to such an extent as sufficiently to vindicate the inspiration of
the dying patriarch. At the same time, it must not be for-
gotten that these hints are very curt, and that much modesty
and forbearance ought to be exhibited by any who would
interpret them particularly; — still more by any who would
take exception to them as incapable of explanation. They
may well be left in some obscurity, — at least for the present,
— for we cannot say what light the future may yet shed on
these early archives.
Even the oracle about Joseph is to be cautiously handled.
It is fuller than the rest. The old man's heart is in it. It is
like the swan's fabled strain in dying. He pours it out with
a richness and copiousness of expression, altogether unlike the
summary conciseness with which he dispatches the others
(ver. 22-26).
302 CLOSE OF JACOBS DYING PROPHECY.
First, growth and fertility, — exuberant growth, hixuriant
fertility, — are ascribed to this " rod out of the stem " of Israel,
— this "branch growing out of his roots." The parent tree
gives off in him a shoot that becomes itself prolific of goodly
offshoots of its o"s^ai; "Joseph is a fruitful bough, even a fruitful
bough by a well ; whose branches run over the wall " (ver. 22).
Again, secondly, he appears as an archer. He is beset for
a time by other archers, vexing and wounding him in their
envy. But his weapon is unhurt, and his strength is unim-
paired. One mightier than himself shields him from harm, and
nerves him for endurance and triumph ; " The archers have
sorely grieved him, and shot at him, and hated him : but his
bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made
strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob ; (from thence
is the shepherd, the stone of Israel :) even by the God of thy
father, who shall help thee ; and by the Almighty, who shall
bless thee" (ver. 23-25).
Then, thirdly, the varied abundance of the good things
provided for him is indicated ; He " shall bless thee with
blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that lieth
under, blessings of the breasts, and of the womb " (ver. 25).
And finally, in the fourth place, as if he would exhaust
his wdiole soul in one last loving embrace of his favourite son,
— the son so worthy of his favour, — the dying patriarch in-
timates that, signal as were the blessings he had himself got
heaped upon his head by his pious and believing forefathers,
he would have them surpassed and excelled by the blessings
he invokes on Joseph, — as much as the great, old, far-oflp hills,
that are ever the same, surpass and excel in grandeur the
little fields of ever-changing tint, on which the passing seasons,
year by year, leave their evanescent hues ; — " The blessings of
thy father have prevailed above the blessings of my progeni-
tors unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills : they shall
be on the head of Josej)h" (ver. 26).
Such is to be Joseph's happy portion; — a portion in
THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH. 303
respect of which he is to be as much distinguished from the
other sons of Israel in prosperity, as he was in trial ; — for all
these blessings are '' on the crown of the head of him that was
separate from his brethren " (ver. 26).
There i^, it must be owned, a good deal of vagueness in all
this benediction, — at least to our apprehension now. Con-
sidered as a prophecy, it is general rather than specific, —
indefinite rather than precise ; — furnishing fe^y, if any, points
of minute identification between its foreshadowings and the
subsequent history. Nor is much additional light thrown upon
it by what looks almost like an explanation or amplification of
it, in the dying speech of Moses (Deut. xxxiii. 13-17).
It is unquestionable that in after time Joseph, as repre-
sented principally by the tribe of Ephraim, — for the di^-ision of
Manasseh into two parts necessarily weakened the influence of
his tribe, — held a most conspicuous j^lace in Israel's territory,
and played a most conspicuous part in Israel's history. All
that Jacob said of him was fulfilled in large measure, before
the sad revolt of the tribes among which he took the lead from
the tlirone of the house of David, and the temple-worship of
the Lord in Jerusalem. A cloud has since come over the
destinies of Joseph's house ; — whether or not ever again to be
raised, it may be left to time to show.
One clause in the benediction is peculiar, — the parenthetical
clause; "From thence is the shepherd, the stone of Israel" (ver.
24). These are divine Messianic titles, — appropriated in sub-
sequent Scripture to the Jehovah of the chosen people's worship,
— the Angel- Jehovah of their believing hope. Is this the origin
of that use of them 1 Is Joseph honoured as one acting instead
of God towards his brethren, — and as, in that respect, the type
and herald of him who comes to save '? Is it meant to be
intimated that this is the crown and consuimnation of the war-
fare and work, the office and ministry, for which " liis bow
abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong
by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob," — that in virtue of
304 CLOSE OF Jacob's dying prophecy.
it, he is " the shepherd, the stone of Israel ; " — ha\^ng been
raised up to prefigure him who is the true Shepherd, feeding
his flock and giving his life for the sheep, — and who is also the
stone, the rock, on which the church is built, — the sure foun-
dation laid in Zion 1
Thus the dying patriarch reads ofl" the histories of his
descendants. Thus he divides the several families that are
afterwards to constitute the commonwealth of Israel ; " All
these are the twelve tribes of Israel : and this is it that their
father spake unto them, and blessed them ; every one accord-
ing to his blessing he blessed them" (ver. 28).
Having discharged this last office, his mind returns to his
own situation and his own prospects. He reiterates his earnest
and anxious entreaty as to the disposal of his body ; — " And
he charged them, and said unto them, I am to be gathered unto
my people : bury me with my fathers" (ver. 29). He is par-
ticular,— after the garrulous manner of old age shall I say ? —
nay rather, for it is the true explanation, in the intensity of his
believing hope ; he is minutely particular in pointing out the
identical spot where he wishes his remains to be laid; — "In
the cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite, in the cave
that is in the field of Machpelah, which is before Mamre, in
the land of Canaan, which Abraham bought with the field of
Ephron the Hittite for a possession of a burying-place " (ver.
29-30). He indicates the reason of his anxiety, and the longing
desire which he has to serve himself heir, in his burial, to his
father and grandfather. They, with their wives, reposed in
that tomb in which he has already laid his Leah. He would
fain lie there himself ; — " There they buried Abraham and
Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac and Eebekah his
wife; and there I buried Leah" (ver. 31). And, as if to
obviate all objections, and vindicate, with his dying breath, his
unquestionable right to the place of sepulture in which he so
solemnly adjures his sons to lay him, he adverts to the original
THE BLESSING ON JOSEPH. 305
acquisition of the property by Abraham, for the burial of Sarah ;
— thus justifying his grandsire's far-seeing prophetic wisdom
in refusing to take it as a gift, and insisting on having it by
purchase ;— " The purchase of the field and of the cave that is
therein was from the children of Heth" (ver. 32).
So ends this closing interview of Jacob with his sons.
They have for themselves his last solemn warnings and blessings,
— and his last orders as to his own remains.
VOL. n.
306 THE DEATH OF JACOB.
LXIX.
THE DEATH OF JACOB— HIS CHARACTER AND
HISTORY.
Genesis xlix. 33 ; l. 1.
Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright : for the end of that man is
peace. — Psalm xxxvii. 37.
Fear not, thon worm Jacob. — Isaiah xli. 14.
Hear ye this, 0 house of Jacob, which are called by the name of Israel. —
Isaiah xlviii. 1.
The strangely chequered course of Jacob's earthly history is
run. His end is peace ; and according to God's promise
(xlvi. 4), Joseph closes his eyes ; — " When Jacob had made an
end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the
bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his
people. And Joseph fell upon his father's face, and wept upon
him, and kissed him" (xlix. 33 ; 1. 1).
The manner of his death is simply told. First, he com-
poses himself to rest, and as it were, to sleep ; he calmly
assumes the attitude of repose. He has done with life ; — its
business is all ended. When "the time drew near that Israel
must die" (xlvii. 29), he at once proceeded, with wonderful self-
possession, to set his house in order, — to give directions, " by
faith," concerning his burial, — to bless, "by faith," the two sons
of Joseph, — to pronounce, " by faith," the inspired oracles that
told what was to befall his children in the latter days, — and
to charge them once more solemnly with the obligation to lay
his body in the grave of his fathers Abraham and Isaac, — in
the land which his seed were to receive for an inheritance.
HIS CHARACTER AND HISTORY. 307
And now, his deathbed work being over, he lies down ex-
hausted, quietly to await the summons to his long home. It
comes. He resigns his spirit to him who gave it ; he com-
mends his soul to God. And he has gone home, — gone to be
one of the kindred multitude that have gone before.
It might be unsafe to make much of these expressions in
themselves — " he yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto
his people," — or to put on them a very strict literal interpre-
tation. They are expressions used generally to denote death,
in almost any circumstances. One cannot help imagining,
however, that as used originally in early times, and with re-
ference to their verbal derivation and significancy, they may
have meant more than they were understood afterwards to
mean, when they became the hackneyed familiarities of common
speech. They certainly seem to indicate two ideas of death,
not unlikely to occur to primitive thought ; — the one, that of
a sort of acquiescence or contented surrender ; — the other, that
of being involved in a sweeping and comprehensive cast of the
fatal net, which draws into a common receptacle or reservoir
the successive swarms of the human race. The one is a kind
of voluntary parting with life ; the other is being swallowed
up in the mysterious, unseen realm which collects in its capa-
cious bosom, one after another, the busy generations that, one
after another, people this changing world. Be that, however, as
it may, there can be no doubt that these words denote a calm
and peaceful close of the patriarch's troubled career.
It had indeed been a troubled career. From first to last
it was a sore, sad struggle of the flesh against the spirit, and
the spirit against the flesh. Let us recall some of its stages.
I. There was misunderstanding from the beginning — mis-
understanding and unbelief. The oracle which accompanied
his birth should have ensured order and peace ; it turned out,
on the contrary, to be the occasion of confusion and strife. It
was no secret in the household. The two brothers, while yet
boys, or lads, evidently knew all about it, and made it a ground
308 THE DEATH OF JACOB.
of quarrel and bone of contention. The parents were divided
in regard to it. The mother and her favourite younger son
were in favour of what it foretold ; the father and his first-
born, on the other hand, would rather stand out for the natural
right of primogeniture, and set the oracle at defiance, or let it
fulfil itself as it best could. Hence the unseemly and un-
brotherly scene of the birthright sold for a mess of pottage j —
Jacob seizing his opportunity — Esau despising his privilege.
Hence the still more melancholy scene of the wretched struggle
for the blessing ; — the father trying to go against the Lord's
decree — the mother seeking to accomplish it by fraud. It
was the oracle that set them all at variance, through their un-
belief. They all sinned and were sinned against ; — with what
proportions of wrong sustained and guilt contracted, it is vain
to inquire.
But certainly, of all the household, Jacob was in the
worst and most difficult position. Had the oracle been believed
and obeyed, he might have taken the place assigned to him,
with such wise and lo\ing counsel, on the part of father and
mother alike, as would have prevented all family heartburnings,
and united parents and children together in looking to the
promised Seed and Saviour, with a view to whom it was that
the younger son was chosen. His being thus chosen, with this
view, would not then have stirred in him either pride, or envy,
or deceit. But he found himself an occasion of strife. He
sought to end it by a sort of compromise with his brother —
for the transaction of the mess of pottage seems, on his part, to
have been of the nature of a compromise — the symbol of his
surrendering the temporal inheritance for the spiritualities of
the birthright. But the miserable jealousy of favouritism grows.
And between the one parent bent on what must frustrate the
oracle, and the other devising carnal means for its accomplish-
ment, Jacob, not yet himself strong in faith, falls a ready vic-
tim to the policy which, instead of trusting God with the
bringing to pass of his own purposes in his own time and way.
' HIS CHARACTER AND HISTORY. 309
will insist on taking what is altogether God's matter into its
own I control, and planning and acting at its own hand on
God's behalf.
II. A brighter scene opens at Bethel. It is a critical time.
He is now wholly in the Lord's hands ; not in the hands of a
misjudging father, on the one side, or of a weak, fond, erring
mother, on the other. Forsaken, virtually, by father and mo-
ther, "the Lord takes him up " (Ps. xxvii. 10).
On that night, as his head leans on his pillow of stone, he
is alone with God. He is very near heaven — heaven is very
near him. It is open to him. God from heaven, G^d in
heaven, deals with him. A covenant is ratified — a personal
covenant. The two parties mutually give themselves to one
another. Jacob is now a new man ; old things are passed
away — all things are become new. So he begins his lonely
pilgrimage in Syria.
For it is to be to him spiritually a lonely pilgrimage, in
which, with much in his outward lot to harass and distract him,
he may have enough of difficulty in walkirig with him whose
covenant he has embraced. He falls into very worldly society,
and becomes familiar with worldly ways. The kindness he
meets with among his mother's Idndred is sadly marred by
covetousness and cruel craft. He is hurt and wounded in his
tenderest and purest affections. His domestic comfort is
blighted in the very bud. He is entangled by human guile
in a breach of the holy and honourable law of marriage or-
dained by God — and one breach leads on to more. A happy
household, a godly seed, can scarcely be looked for. AVhat
prosperity he meets with is embittered by the unscrupulous
artifices against which he has continually to guard. At home,
in his family — abroad, in his business — it is an uneasy life he
has to lead. Certainly there is not much in it that is congenial
to the spirit of the solemn and significant transaction at Bethel.
He is in danger of adopting heathen customs, and has begun
to adopt them, like his descendants long afterwards who " were
310 THE DEATH OF JACOB.
mingled among the heathen, and learned their works." It is
well for him that his rest in Padan-aram is rudely broken.
III. But it is not change of scene only that will arrest a
tendency to backsliding, or heal backsliding begun, and restore
the soul. Jacob is recalled from the land of his exile, and is
to sojourn again in the land where God personally met him,
and dealt gTaciously with him. But he is not to re-enter it
without a fresh awakening. A new personal meeting, a new
gracious dealing, on the part of the Lord, awaits him ere he
re-crosses, now become two bands, the Jordan which he passed
over before with his staff. He fears the opposition of Esau.
He has to encounter the opposition of Jehovah. The Lord,
to whom he has cried for help against his brother's dreaded
vengeance, himself stands against him as his adversary, — as one
who has a controversy with him. A night of wrestling ensues.
Jacob's faith is quickened greatly. In the strength of the Lord,
he sustains till day-break the wrestling of the Lord with him.
He will not be driven back, or give up, or give in. " Behind
a frowning providence he sees a smiling face." In the man
wrestling with him, he recognises his covenant God and Saviour.
Therefore, "when he is weak then is he strong." Even when the
Lord is contending with him, he will " endure, as seeing him
who is invisible," — seeing in the seeming enemy, the unseen
friend. Even when the Lord breaks his very bones, — or touches
them so that they are out of joint, — he Tvdll hold on in faith.
And when his great antagonist seems to cease his wrestling,
and makes as if he would leave him to complain, " all my bones
are out of joint," — he will not let him go until he blesses him,
and gives him cause to say that " the very bones which he has
broken now rejoice." The mysterious wrestler will not indeed
have his name revealed, — that name which the Incarnation at
last disclosed (Mat. i. 21). But Jacob gets his blessing.
So, as a prince, by his strength he has power with God.
Seeing God face to face, and having his life preserved, he be-
comes Israel The worm Jacob becomes a prince, having
HIS CHARACTER AND HISTORY. 311
power over the Angel and prevailing. And so, having that
way of faith which pleases the Lord, he finds God making his
enemies to be at peace with him (Prov. xvi. 7), and causing
him to dwell safely in the land.
IV. Still, Jacob's revival is not complete. Tlie Lord needs
yet again to visit him, for he is tempted to take his ease.
Forgetful apparently of his old vow at Bethel, — pledging
him to return thither after his wandering, and there conse-
crate anew himself and his possessions to the Lord, — he lingers
on the confines, where he first finds rest. He worships God,
indeed, and erects an altar ; but it is without thoroughly
purging his house and household of all idolatry, and all heathen
wickedness. He is apt to settle on his lees. The reins of
domestic discipline also are relaxed. Intercourse with the sur-
rounding world is too freely allowed ; and there is a tolerated
conformity to its ways ; — the smft and sad result being first
a daughter's dishonour, and then the cruel and cowardly re-
venge inflicted by her brothers. Another divine interposition
is needed, — another decided step. God must remind Jacob,
of what surely he should not have needed to be reminded of,
— his old Bethel experiences and Bethel pledges. Eoused
seasonably from apathy and spiritual sloth, he at last " makes
haste and delays not to keep God's commandment." He
makes thorough work of the purifying of his house, — "enduring
in it no evil thing." All cherished remnants of idolatrous and
heathen worship are cast out. He carries his household, thus
purged, to Bethel. He fulfils his vow. And though sad
breaches in his family mark the occasion, — the death of Ee-
bekah's nurse, before the renewal of the covenant at Bethel,
and the death of Kachel afterwards, in giving birth to her
youngest son, — it is not in his case as it was in the case of
the rebuilder of Jericho (1 Kings xvi. 34). These are not
judgments but chastisements. Jacob shows his sense of their
being so, when, parting with his beloved, he takes her Benoni
to be his Benjamin.
312 THE DEATH OF JACOB.
V. It is when thus awakened, chastened, and comforted,
that Jacob receives, upon his father Isaac's death, the patri-
archate, or patriarchal headship. His brother Esau having
been led, as it would seem, of his own accord, though of course
under special providential guidance, to migrate, with his whole
establishment, already growing into tribes or dukedoms, into
the wide regions ever since occupied by his posterity, — Jacob
quietly succeeds his father, and takes his place as the repre-
sentative and chief of the chosen race. Together the two
brothers, friends at last, bury their father Isaac. And it is
graciously so ordered that when Jacob comes, in terms of the
oracle to serve himself heir, he does so, on the one hand, with
no objection or opposition on the part of his brother Esau,
but on the contrary, as it would seem, with his acquiescence, if
not even with his consent ; and he does so, on the other hand,
in connection with such fresh and recent dealings of the Lord
with him, both by his word and by his providence, as are evi-
dently blessed by the Spirit for his personal quickening and
revival. It is with mingled feelings that after all his trials
he now takes the place of Abraham and of Isaac.
VI. In that capacity he has still sharp discipline to en-
dure. Not to speak of the sins of Eeuben and Judah, he has
to pass through the whole trial connected with Joseph.
Here too, as in former instances, the root of much, if not
all, of the evil is to be found in unbelief; — in an unbeliev-
ing disregard of the mind and purpose of God, sufficiently
revealed, and in sufficient time. If the manifestly inspired
dreams with which the young lad was twice visited had been
duly observed and turned to account, — if pains had been taken
to make them the ground of patient expectation on the part
of all the family, instead of their being allowed to become the
occasion of jealousy and suspicion, — how much domestic sin
and sorrow might have been avoided ! But his father rebuked
him, and his brethren envied him. And though his father's
yebuke might be slight and passing, since he was, and was de-
HIS CHARACTER AND HISTORY. 313
servedly, a favourite child, his brethren's envy remained and
rankled. Instead of faith leaving it to God to bring to pass
his own end by his own means, there is the sin of unbelief
which we have so often had occasion to point out. Man's fond
folly and fierce passion must come in. God is not acknow-
ledged; his salvation is not waited for. Hence misery at
home; — and abroad, cruel "plotting against the righteous."
Tlie dreamer is still, in spite of his dreams, the favoured, if not
petted child, — and his brothers must somehow get rid of him.
Thus long years of grief are brought upon Jacob. His patri-
archal reign is, alas ! no reign of righteousness, and peace, and
joy. He has to mourn for Joseph as lost, — lost by a horrid
fate, — torn, as he is made to think, by savage beasts. And
with all their anxiety to comfort him, his remaining sons, con-
scious of hypocrisy and the cruellest lie men ever told, — can
only very partially succeed. Wild also, and lawless, they too
often are in their own lives. Benjamin, his Rachel's Benjamin,
— the last pledge of her dying love, — is almost the only earthly
consolation of his fast declining years. But now comes the
famine, — and even Benjamin must go. Yet once more Jacob
is to be thoroughly bereaved. A strange, inscrutable, stern
necessity, shuts him up, and hedges in his way. There is no
outlet, — no escape ; any where; any how. He must part with
all ; yes ! all ; to please an Egyptian tyrant, — to satisfy his
jealousy and gratify his caprice ; — or else he and his must
starve. The nest is bare ! The last and dearest fledgling is
rudely torn away, to glut the insatiate maw of the all-devour-
ing monster that the Nile seems to have brought forth.
^Yhsit remains for Jacob but to sit alone and weep ; — going
down in disconsolate sorrow to the grave 1
VII. At last there begins to dawn upon him some glimpse
of light — some insight into the meaning of what has been so
dark in the divine providence towards him.
But even here, what the light, as it dawns, reveals, is not all
Juight and clear. In the tidings that Joseph is alive in Egypt,
314 THE DEATH OF JACOB.
and has prepared in Egypt a home for his father and all his
house, — in the importunate message which Joseph sends, in his
own name, and the king's, — in the waggons, and carriages, and
provisions, all ready at his door for the journey, — Jacob's
slowly opening mind begins to recognise a hint, or solemn in-
timation, that the time has come for the fulfilment of the Lord's
prediction to Abraham ; " Know of a surety that thy seed shall
be a stranger in a land that is not theirs, and shall serve them -,
and they shall afflict them four hundred years ; and also that
nation, whom they shall serve, will I judge : and afterward
shall they come out with great substance" (xv. 13, 14).
It is not simply a visit he is about to pay. It is not even
merely a temporary sojourn of a few years he is to make, till the
calamity of the famine is overpast. Jacob's eyes are opened to
the truth. The summons from Egy^^t is the signal of a far
more serious and ominous crisis. It rings in his ears as a very
solemn curfew-knell, — ushering in a long, long night of weari-
ness and woe. This is worse than the flight to Padan-aram.
That was personal to himself, and on the face of it only tem-
porary. This is the uprooting out of the chosen land of the
entire family tree ; — and long ages are to pass before " the
vine brought out of Egypt" is to be planted in it again. It is
not merely that he is now too old himself to cherish the hope
of a return. That is not the case. Like Moses, whose " eye "
in his old age " was not dim, nor his natural strength abated,"
Jacob is so hale and hearty that there is nothing to hinder his
paying Joseph even a long visit in Egypt, and yet cherishing
good and warrantable expectation of coming back to die in
Canaan. Nor need the fact of his taking all his well-nigh
starving household with him to a temporary asylum in a
country where there is plenty, occasion much concern. But
Jacob sees more clearly the real meaning of the movement ;
he does not shut his eyes to its ultimate as well as its imme-
diate bearings. It is — he knows that it is — the beginning of
the predicted captivity of his race. And knowing this, he
HIS CHARACTER AND HISTORY. 315
acquiesces in faith, — his faith being strengthened by one more
visit paid to him by the Lord. It might seem hard that it
should fall to him, in his old age, and after all his trials, —
when he would fain lie down and die where his fathers Abra-
ham and Isaac had died before him, — to lead, as it were, this
forlorn hope, — to be the conductor of his people, not out of
bondage, but into the worst extremity of bondage. Jacob,
however, makes no remonstrance, and utters no complaint.
Gratefully accepting the Lord's promise for himself and his
seed, he goes down into Egypt to end his days there.
And now this Jacob is dead. " After life's fitful fever he
sleeps well," — commending his soul to God, and his body to
be buried in Canaan's hallowed soil, in hope of the resurrection-
day. His character and experience remain on record for our
learning.
His character may not be great perhaps as men count
greatness ; not exalted ; not noble ; not fit for high achieve-
ments ; but weak, rather, if you will, and inclined to the arts
of weakness ; not always amiable, any more than admirable ;
apt to suffer by contrast with some of the finer natural quali-
ties which such a man as his brother Esau occasionally exhibits.
Yet surely, on the whole, it is a character worthy of study,
and not without attractions. At anyrate, it is all before us ;
the worst and the best. We see what materials grace and
faith had to work with. And we see what, in the actual
result, grace and faith made of these materials. We see grace
making a weak man strong ; for surely to the last he was
strong in faith. It made " the worm Jacob" " the prince
Israel." Let us "follow his faith ;" considering the end of his
conversation — "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and
for ever " (Heb. xiii. 8).
His varied, chequered, troubled experience, — is it not full
of instruction and comfort to the spiritually exercised soul ]
It is almost, — next to David's, — the most so of any left on
316 THE DEATH OF JACOB.
record in the Old Testament. Tliere is scarcely a mood of
mind into which sin or sorrow can cast a believer that may
not find a type, or parallel, or example, in Jacob. Weakness
in himself, as well as weakness caused by his suffering wrong
at the hands of others, — and these others familiar friends as
well as foes, — foes of his own household, — Jacob certainly
exhibits. Much of his history is written for our warning ; in
much of it he is a beacon rather than a pattern. But much
also is -vmtten for our encouragement and guidance. In run-
ning the race set before us, " faint yet pursuing," amid many
cares and fears, many faults and infirmities, we may learn not
a little from Jacob, while we seek to walk as strangers and
pilgrims on the earth, — " waiting for thy salvation, 0 Lord."
THE BURIAL OF JACOB. 317
LXX.
THE BURIAL OF JACOB— THE LAST SCENE IN
CANAAN.
Genesis l. 1-13.
So Jacob went down into Egypt, and died, he, and our fathers ; and were
carried over into Sychem, and laid in the sepulchre that Abraham
bought for a sum of money of the sons of Emmor, the father of
Sychem. — Acts vii. 15, 16.
The burial of Jacob was an affair of state. It was a public
ceremony conducted with national pomp. This must surely
have been Pharaoh's doing. Jacob himself never could have
dreamed of it ; and it does not seem to have entered into the
mind of Joseph to solicit or expect it. He assumes indeed at
once, as a matter of right, or a matter of course, the position
of head of the family ; — and it is evidently conceded to him,
without dispute or hesitation, by his brethren. He takes the
charge and oversight of the whole business, and adopts
measures for carrying his father's last wishes into effect, and
having his body carried to Canaan. But he does so, evidently,
not in the character of a prince of Egypt, the vizier or prime
minister of the king, but in the character of Israel's son, —
now, on Israel's decease, the acknowledged patriarchal chief of
the tribe or clan.
And this, probably, is the simple explanation of a cir-
cumstance for which many frivolous and conjectural reasons
have been imagined, — his communicating with Pharaoh on
this occasion, not himself personally, but by a message sent
318 THE BURIAL OF JACOB.
through third parties (ver. 4). He has, for the time, with-
drawn from the court ; and is in deep seclusion, either in his
own apartments, or more probably, in the bosom of his father's
house. He had already made it manifest enough, that in the
height of his Egyptian glory and prosperity, he was so far
from being ashamed of his connection with a wandering horde
of shepherds from Canaan, that he counted that connection to
be even more desirable, more to be coveted and prized, than
the monarch's favour and all its fruit. He had not, indeed,
exactly the same alternative before him which long afterwards
tried and proved the faith of Moses. He had not literally to
choose between " the reproach of Christ and the treasures of
Egypt," — between " suffering affliction with the people of God,
and enjoying the pleasures of sin for a season." But he gave
unequivocal evidence of the same faith that Moses exercised,
when he sought so earnestly his dying father's blessing for
himself and his sons. He thus deliberately preferred, for
himself and for them, to share the fortunes of Abraham's seed,
through the long years of predicted bondage that he knew
were soon to come, as preliminary to the possession of the
promised land, — rather than to stand aloof, as he might have
done, and be content with patronising the settlers in Goshen,
without compromising or risking his rank and position in the
palace and in the kingdom of Egypt.
Plainly, during Jacob's lifetime, Joseph counted it better
to be Jacob's son than to be the nearest to Pharaoh's throne.
And now that Jacob is dead, his feeling and his faith are un-
changed.
He has closed his father's eyes, — and given vent to a burst
of uncontrollable grief ; — " Joseph fell upon his father's face,
and wept upon him, and kissed him" (ver. 1). He looks back
from that aged deathbed, through the vista of more than half-a-
century of troubled life, and recalls the days when, as a child, he
got that " coat of many colours," — the last gift of fond fatherly
love, before it was so rudely rent and so cruelly crushed. He
THE LAST SCENE IN CANAAN. 319
proceeds to execute the task that now remains. Though shut
U23 in the retirement of mourning, whether at Goshen or in
his own palace, — keeping his chamber in privacy, — he has his
attendants at his call. He issues orders for the embalming of
his father's body, in the usual way, and by the usual function-
aries, so as to make it fit for the long journey in prospect ; —
" Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his
father : and the physicians embalmed Israel " (ver. 2). Forty
days thus pass away ; — so much time being required to com-
plete the process of embalming, in due form ; — " Forty days
were fulfilled for Jacob ; for so are fulfilled the days of those
which are embalmed " (ver. 3). Joseph, meanwhile, continues
mourning in private. And the Egyptians of his household, —
whether through hired officials or under the impulse of their
own natural sympathy does not appear, — mourn more openly
in public; — "The Egyptians mourned for Jacob threescore
and ten days " (ver. 3).
These seventy days of mourning being past, and all now
being ready, Joseph prepares to start on his melancholy jour-
ney towards Canaan.
Being Pharaoh's servant, he has to obtain Pharaoh's leave ;
" When the days of liis mourning were past, Joseph spake
unto the house of Pharaoh, saying, If now I have found grace
in your eyes, speak I pray you, in the ears of Pharaoh " (ver.
4). He does not go to ask it himself. This is not certainly,
— it could not be, — from any distrust of the king. Perhaps
the eticjuette of court excluded from the royal presence one
whose appearance in the attire of first mourning might cast
a gloom over the royal household. Perhaps he felt that he
could scarcely venture to face his master and friend, who had
shown such kindness to himself and his lost father, without
the risk of being too much overcome. Or perhaps he deemed
it more becoming, when he was acting, not as Pharaoh's
favourite minister, but as the head and representative of an-
other race, to approach the king thus humbly, through the
320 THE BURIAL OF JACOB.
officers of the household ; — the customary channel for convey-
ing addresses and petitions to the tlu-one.
Be this as it may, what Joseph asks his Egyptian friends
to say on his behalf to his beloved and loving sovereign, is
very simple and touching ; " My father made me swear, saying,
Lo, I die ; in my grave which I have digged for me in the
land of Canaan, there shalt thou bury me. Now therefore let
me go up, I pray thee, and bury my father, and I will come
again" (ver. 5). They are simply to tell how Jacob laid
Joseph under a vow, — and that in a manner more than ordi-
narily solemn and affecting. My father was old before he
left Canaan, — older in sorrow than in years ; he reckoned his
grave to be already dug there. It had been opened for his
grandfather and his father, — and for their wives, — and for his
own. In his eyes it stood ever open for himself. He spoke
of it to me with his latest breath as "the grave which I
digged for me in the land of Canaan." I took an oath to bury
him there. I ask permission to go up and fulfil my oath.
And I promise instantly to return.
Such brief leave of absence, for such a sacred duty, Joseph
asks his friends to solicit on his behalf.
There is no hint of his desiring a pompous funeral ; he
has no thought of anything of the sort. His one wish is
simply to do his father's bidding. It is Pharaoh himself,
evidently, who makes a national affair of what might other-
wise have been nothing more than a family arrangement.
The king grants his favourite minister's request after a
kingly fashion ; — " Pharaoh said. Go up and bury thy father,
according as he made thee swear " (ver. 6). The father of the
man who has laid him and his kingdom under such obliga-
tions,— carrying them so well through the crisis of such a
famine, and making it the occasion of consolidating the em-
pire and confirming its supremacy among the nations, — is not
to be buried as a common man. Joseph is by all means to
accomplish his promise, and carry the loved remains to Canaan.
THE LAST SCENE IN CANAAN. 321
But he is to do so in a manner worthy of the great prince
whose favour he has won, to whom he is a second self. It is
to be, not merely a Hebrew, but an Egyptian ceremonial :
"Joseph went up to bury his father : and with him went up
all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all
the elders of the land of Egypt, and all the house of
Joseph, and his brethren, and his father's house : only theu^
little ones, and their flocks, and their herds, they left in the
land of Goshen. And there went up with him both chariots
and horsemen : and it was a very great company " (ver.
7, 8, 9).
Goshen is deserted of all but " the little ones, and flocks j
and herds." Even the old men and the women, as it would
seem, — with the exception probably of a remnant to look after
the little ones, and flocks, and herds, — are eager to swell the
train. All Joseph's house, and his brethren's houses, and the
whole house of his father, are- on the march. And along with
them, there are the chief men of Pharaoh's household and the
flower of Egypt's chivalry ; the elders or princes of the king's
court, as well as those of the whole land ; with chariots and
horsemen in abundance.
It was a goodly cavalcade, — a " very great company." It
was Pharaoh's way of signalising the man whom he delighted
to honour. And it was a tribute of regard, that would pro-
bably more exalt Joseph in the eyes of all Egypt, — and that
would certainly, as we may well believe, come more home to
Joseph's own heart — than his first investiture with the fine
linen and the gold chain when he was proclaimed ruler over
all the land. It must have been to Joseph almost as if his
royal master had, with his own hands, carried his father's
head to the grave. The Egyptians saw how Pharaoh loved
Joseph ] and they fully sympathised with both.
The procession thus formed moved towards Canaan.
They did not, as it would seem, proceed by the most direct
and shortest route. They went circuitously ; following, it is
VOL. IL Y
322 THE BURIAL OF JACOB.
believed, very much the Hue of march which the Israelites
took, when they left Egypt four hundred years after, — to
wander forty years in the wilderness, and to be at last brought
into the promised land.
So "they came to the thrashing-floor of Atacl" (ver. 10).
That spot where the funeral cavalcade halted, was, as is
commonly supposed, on the east side of the Jordan; — "beyond
Jordan" (ver. 10), looking from Egyj^t. This of itself would
indicate a round-about journey ; — rendered necessary, perhaps,
or expedient, by the risk of collision with the roving and un-
friendly tribes of the desert. At any rate, at Atacl they call
a halt, and the company is there for a time to be divided.
The Eg}^3tians are to remain stationary there, while Jacob's
sons go on to complete the sad work which they have on
hand in Canaan.
But before they separate, there is an entire week spent by
the whole host together in a great and very sore lamentation.
The mourning, according to old eastern usage, is loud and clamor-
ous. And it is universal. Not the Hebrews alone give way to
their emotions; their Egyptian companions also join in the voci-
ferous wailing. In fact, it would seem as if they played the first
part, and took the lead. It was their parting burst of grief
as they suffered the Hebrews to go on alone from the thrash-
ing-floor of Atad to the burial-place in Canaan. The on-
lookers remarked that it Avas an Egyptian mourning. And
they commemorated it as such ; — " When the inhabitants of
the land, the Canaanites, saw the mourning in the floor of
Atad, they said. This is a grievous mourning to the Egyp-
tians : wherefore the name of it was called Abel-mizraim,"
— the mourning of the Egyptians, — "Avhicli is beyond Jordan"
(ver. 11).
The Egyptian convoy ha\dng thus halted on the confines
or borders of Canaan ; — either because their having come
thus far was deemed a sufficient token of respect, or perhaps
because their farther advance miolit have been misconstrued
THE LAST SCENE IN CANAAN. 323
as a hostile demonstration ; — tlie family of Jacob proceed, by
themselves, across the Jordan into the land of Canaan proper,
and accomplish their purpose peaceably, without difficulty or
disturbance : " His sons did unto him according as he com-
manded them : for his sons carried him into the land of
Canaan, and buried him in the cave of the field of Machpelah,
which Abraham bought with the field for a possession of a
burying- place of Ephron the Hittite, before Mamre" (ver. 12,
1 3), Then, leaving the buried body of the patriarch in the
cave of the field of Machpelah, they slowly and sadly retrace
their steps ; — " Joseph returned into Egypt, he and his
brethren, and all that went up with him to bury his father,
after he had buried his father " (ver. 14.)
It is their last look at the inheritance promised to their
fathers. They themselves are to return to it no more ; and
ages of oppression are to roll on before their children see it.
Joseph in particular must have had feelings peculiar to himself
on the occasion. He had not been in Canaan since he was a
lad. What boyish memories must the sight of its once familiar
haunts awaken ! And now he may not linger to refresh old
recollections and explore new charms. He has to do mth
nothing in it save his father's opened grave. It is a glimpse
even more transient and unsatisfying than Moses got from
Pisgali, that Joseph gets at Machpelah. He is to walk by
faith and not by sight. In faith he turns away from the home
of his ancestors, — the destined home of his posterity, — of
which, in circumstances so solemn, he has caught, as it were,
a passing -vdew. And with his brothers, and their train, he
sets his face again towards Egypt.
It is almost like a second selling to the Midianites, — a
second going down to capti^dty. It is as if he were a second
time exchanging Canaan's bright promise for Egypt's dark and
bitter slavery !
But, strong in faith, he is prepared for present duty. He
must keep his word to Pharaoh. Egypt is the place where
324 THE BURIAL OF JACOB.
God would have him to be. So he sets out, with the family
of which he is now the head, to take what may befall him or
them in that foreign land of banishment and bondage.
How far, or in what way, this incident of Jacob's funeral
may have affected the relations between the Egyptians and the
Canaanites, it is altogether vain and idle to sj^eculate. Con-
jectures may be formed as to the effect, in after-times, of what
the Canaanites witnessed at the thrashing-floor of Atad, and
of the way in which they thought it worth while to preserve
the memory of it. It is just possible that they may have con-
ceived the idea of the Egyptians having some purpose of help-
ing the Israelites, at a future convenient season, to obtain
possession of the territory in which they took such formal in-
feftment by the burial within its borders of their great father
Jacob. The rumour of the prophecy about Abraham's seed
may, at an earlier period, have aroused their suspicion and
alarm, — and it may have been some relief to them to see
Jacob and his whole house migrating into Egypt. But now,
after the lapse of a few years, these strange worshippers of a
God unkno^ni to them are back again among them, — and upon
an errand that quietly assumes a right of property in their
territory, and not obscurely points to that right being held to
cover something more than a privilege of burial, — some wider
inheritance than a grave. And they come with the backing
of all Egypt's pomp and power. No doubt Egypt may j^retend
that it is a simple compliment to him who has been Egypt's
saviour and benefactor, — thus to honour his father's funeral
with such a public national demonstration. But such grievous
mourning among the Egyptians as Abel-mizraim has witnessed
is scarcely quite natural in the circumstances, — and, before
now, a reconnoitring expedition, with ultimately hostile intent,
has been covered by an ingenious stratagem of this sort. There
may be some covered wile under this very loud wailing.
So the Canaanites may have reasoned. And their reason-
ing in this way may have led, by-and-by, to a reaction among
THE LAST SCENE IN CANAAN. 325
the Egyptians. As the memory of Joseph and his services
became faint, and a different dynasty of Pharaohs occupied the
throne, and the Israelites multiplied and became formidable
for their numbers, it might become the policy of Egypt to
allay the apprehensions of the neighbouring nationalities by
reversing the course adopted at Jacob's burial, and resorting
to measures of repression and severity. If the Canaanites
still retained the jealousy of which the scene at Abel-mizraim
may have sowed the seeds, and indicated fear lest the same
partiality for Joseph, which led to such a display of Egyptian
sympathy towards him at his father's death, might prompt
a still more formidable display of sympathy towards his race
in their assertion of their claim to Canaan, — what more likely
to prevent misunderstanding and preserve peace, than Egypt's
beginning to treat Israel precisely as we learn that it did,
when " a new king arose over Egypt who knew not Joseph,"
and " the people of the children of Israel increased abundantly,
and waxed exceeding mighty?" (Exod. i. 7, 8). We may find
here one, at least, of many causes that may have contributed to
that result.
Be this, however, as it may, — and it is no more than a
conjecture, however plausible or j)robable, — the state-funeral
of Jacob, with all Egyptian as well as Hebrew honours, marks
the culminating point of Israel's favour and prosperity in the
land that was to witness their long bondage. After that
signal mark of distinction, the chosen family begin, as it
would seem, to fall out of public view ; — to become isolated
and detached ; — gradually ceasing to attract notice ; — left very
much to themselves, to tend their flocks and occupy the terri-
tory assigned to them, — and to increase and multiply till they
grow into a people numerous and strong and compact enough
for invading and possessing Canaan. This in fact is to be
their safety. They are to be let alone. Not until a much
later period is the vast Hebrew population in and around
Goshen to force itself, as a matter of surprise, on the attention
326 THE BURIAL OF JACOB — THE LAST SCENE IN CANAAN.
of the Egyptian rulers, and to awaken jealousy and alarm.
Meanwhile they are, in a sense, hidden by the Lord in a secure
place, until the time comes for his displaying the power of his
outstretched arm in signal judgment on their oppressors, and a
glorious deliverance wrought out for them.
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 327
LXXI.
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN— THE FULL ASSURANCE
OF RECONCILIATION.
Genesis l. 14-21.
And now, brethren, I wot tliat tlirougli ignorance 5'e did it, as did also
your rulers. But those things, which God before had shelved by the
mouth of all his jirophets, that Christ should sutfer, he hath so ful-
filled. Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be
blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence
of the Lord.— Acts iii. 17-19.
The funeral obsequies in Canaan being over, the entire caval-
cade return to Egypt : " Joseph returned into Egypt, he and
his brethren, and all that went up with him to bury his father,
after he had buried his father" (ver. 14) ; and it might seem
that things would now fall, as a matter of course, into the usual
quiet routine. Surely by this time there should be a comj^lete
understanding among all the parties in the agitating scenes
that have been enacted, as to the footing on which they are to
be towards one another. Joseph has finished his good work
of settling his father's household in " quiet habitations ; " and
they have nothing to do but peaceably pursue their ordinary
occupations, grateful to Joseph and Pharaoh, — above all, grate-
ful to God. But this assured state of things is not to be
immediately realised. There is to be still farther explanation,
— a still more express and formal adjustment, as it were, of all
outstanding claims and liabilities. The covenant of peace is
328 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREX.
to be again renewed, and ratified even more solemnly and
affectionately than before.
Once more, therefore, let us look at Joseph and his breth-
ren, as they are seen confronted with one another, after their
father's death has left them to themselves.
The brothers are agitated by a fear not unnatural. Con-
science again makes cowards of them. In spite of all the
kindness they have experienced at Joseph's hand, they have
the idea that he may have been dissembling his purpose of
retaliation, and under the mask of smiles, really all the while
only " nursing his wrath to keep it warm." Like Esau in his
rage against his brother, they think perhaps that Joseph may
have been restrained by the awe in which he held their father,
and so may have postponed his revenge till after his decease :
" AVhen Joseph's brethren saw that their father was dead, they
said, Joseph will peradventure hate us, and will certainly re-
quite us all the evil which we did unto him " (ver. 15).
To avert this danger, they have recourse to two expedients.
They first send a message to Joseph, professing to embody a
commandment of Jacob : "Thy father did command before he
died, saying, So shall ye say unto Joseph, Forgive, I pray thee
now, the trespass of thy brethren, and their sin ; for they did
unto thee evil ; and now, we pray thee, forgive the trespass of
the servants of the God of thy father" (ver. 16, 17). And
then they follow up the message with a personal appeal : they
" went and fell down before his face ; and they said, Behold,
we be thy servants" (ver. 18).
It has been supposed that the commandment which they
put into the mouth of their father after his death may have
been a fabrication of their own to serve their purpose ; but one
scarcely likes to imagine that it was so. It is at least as pro-
bable that they may have mentioned to Jacob, while he was
yet alive, the apprehension which they entertained. And to
soothe and satisfy them, — though he could not deem it neces-
sary so far as Joseph was concerned, — he may have authorised
THE FULL ASSURANCE OF RECONCILIATIOX. 329
them to make some such use of his name as they did make.
In fact, it may have been his T\^ay of intimating his own full
and thorough foroiveness of their sin. And at all events it
could do no harm to endorse, as it were, mth his paternal
sanction, what he knew to be his beloved son's brotherly feel-
ing towards these conscience-stricken men.
The message, with its mention of his father's mind and
will, touches Joseph's heart to the quick. His brethren also,
who seem to have followed close at the heels of their messen-
ger, spoke doubtless to the same effect. " And Joseph wept
when they spake unto him " (ver. 1 7).
Was it for their fancying such an interposition of their
father's authority to be necessary in order to pacify him that
Joseph wept 1 Or was it because he could not but be moved
by such an instance of his father's common love to all his
children "? It may have been a mixture of both emotions.
Why this distrust of me, as if in so solemn a manner, and by
an authority so sacred, I must be commanded to forgive 1 — I
who, as your own hearts might have told you, had forgiven you
long before 1 But be it so. My father's command makes my
forgiveness of you all the sweeter to me, as well as all the
surer to you. Gladly, in his name, as well as from myself, do
I forgive you now anew. It is his act now as well as mine.
Let my warm gushing tears attest at once my deep reverence
for him, and my tender love to you. Is not that the meaning
of these gracious drops 1 Is it any wonder, in the circum-
stances, that "Joseph wept when they spake unto him'?"
The submissive language of these men, following upon their
citation of their father's command, is striking and significant
at this late stage of the history. It carries us back to those
early dreams which gave so much offence. The very parties
who took umbrage then, now bear witness, in their own demean-
our, to the literal fulfilment of the augury which the dreams
contained. In spite of all the unbelief and opposition of men,
the counsel of the Lord stands sure. The lesson, as to the
330 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.
special and particular providence of God, which this whole
divine drama of Joseph's life is fitted and designed to teach, is
now at last complete ; the end explains and vindicates the
beginning. The complicated plot unravels and exhausts it-
self ; and there is simplicity at the close. It is seen that " the
Lord reigneth."
So Joseph himself reads the divine lesson, and explains
the divine plot, if one may so call it, — using dramatic language
in reference to so dramatic a series of incidents. That he does
so is implied in his reply to the somewhat abject prostration
of his brethren : — "Fear not; for am I in the place of God?
But as for you, ye thought evil against me ; but God meant it
unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much
people alive" (ver. 19, 20). He might have been gratified by
their homage. It might have pleased him to see them thus
compelled to own the superiority on his part which his dreams
foretold, — and the very idea of which they so murderously
resented, — if he had regarded the matter in a selfish light, or
from a selfish point of view. But it is not himself that he
considers at all ; he forgets self It is the Lord's hand that
he sees in the whole wondrous history. It is the Lord's
sovereignty, wisdom, and grace, that he recognises, and would
have his brethren to recognise throughout it all. Think not
of me ; look not to me. ^Yho am I, that you should bow so
humbly to me 1 Am I in the place of God, that I should take
it upon me to judge you 1 What, after all, have you done to
me 1 You meant e\dl ; but God has over-ruled it for good.
It is not with me that you have to deal ; nor am I to deal
with you. Let us, all of us, cease from taking so narrow a
view, and one so merely human. Do not make me your judge ;
do not prostrate yourselves before me, as if I had any right or
inclination to punish or revenge. I do not count you to have
injured me. You were but the instruments in God's hands of
accomplishing his purpose, which for you and me alike has
turned out to be so gracious. Let us together own his provi-
THE FULL ASSURANCE OF RECONCILIATION. 331
clence in all that has fallen out. Surely to you his long-
suffering is and must be salvation, — his goodness may well
indeed move you to repentance. And for me, seeing that all
you did to me has turned out so well, — so well for you, as
well as for me, and so well for him that is gone, — let me
acknowledge in it all, not your hand, but the Lord's. If I am
to be now, as your homage implies, your chief and head, — by
your own consent and choice, as well as by the Lord's design
and doing, — let my patriarchal reign and headship over you
be one of mutual confidence and love on both sides. Let all
the past, your sin and my suffering, be swallowed up in our
common owning of God's wondrous working in his ways
toward the children of men. He does all things well. He
has made me, through your treatment of me, the means of
saving much people alive ; it is the Lord's doing, let it be
marvellous in our eyes. So Joseph reassures his brethren ;
" Now therefore fear ye not : I will nourish you, and your
little ones. And he comforted them, and spake kindly unto
them" (ver. 21).
It is a noble instance of forgiveness, — a signal exhibition
of the spirit of faith and love, — the very " meekness and gentle-
ness of Christ." But does it not point to something higher ?
Is not a greater than Joseph here ? Have we not here Christ
himself, of whom Joseph in all this is so fitting a type 1
See then now Jesus, — the true Joseph, — our Joseph. He
too suffered at the hands of his brethren. They all conspired
against him ; — you, brother, and I, among the rest. We nailed
him to the accursed tree. We caused his blood to flow, and
the cry of agony to be wrung from his lips, — " My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken mef
Is " the Spirit of grace and of supplications poured out upon
us " now 1 Are we " looking on him whom we have pierced,
and mourning as one mourneth for an only son V Do we feel
as if such wrong as we have done to him, in distrusting,
persecuting, crucifying him, never could be overlooked? — as
332 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.
if he must needs, in spite of all his patience and all his pity,
resent at last our unworthy treatment of him ? He addresses
us almost in the very words of Joseph, — " Fear not ; for am I
in the place of GocH" Have I come to judge and condemn?
Nay ! It is mine to save. And does he not add, as did his
apostles, when preaching to his actual betrayers and murderers,
— Lay not too much to heart what you have done to me ;
however you meant it, has it not turned out for good '? So
God intended it, — to bring to pass, through your means, the
saving of much people, the saving of you this day. Me ye
have not really injured. Lo ! The cross on which you lifted
me up has become a throne — a throne on which I am exalted,
to be a Prince and a Saviour. It is my Father's doing ; my
Father's will. You could " do nothing against me, except it
were given to you from above" (John xix. 11). "The prince
of this world," though he " cometh to me, hath nothing in me "
(John xiv. 30). It is neither your purpose, nor his, that is
fulfilled in me. But " I love the Father, and as he has given
me commandment, so I do" (John xiv. 31).
Yes ! You may remind me, as his brethren reminded
Joseph, of my Father's commandment. I had his command-
ment to die for you. I have his commandment to save you,
— to pardon and to bless. " All that the Father giveth me
shall come to me : and him that cometh unto me I will in no
wise cast out. For I came down from heaven, not to do my
own will, but the will of him that sent me. And this is the
Father's will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath
given me, I should lose nothing, but should raise it up at the
last day. And this is the will of him that sent me, that
every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may
have everlasting life : and I will raise him up at the last day"
(John vi. 37-40).
It might have seemed something very like an insult or an
impertinence, on the part of Joseph's brethren, to bring to
bear upon him, as if he needed it, the pressure of parental
THE FULL ASSURANCE OF PvECONCILL^TION. 333
authority ; — " Thy father did command : " — not our father,
they say, gratifying us, — but thy father constraining thee.
And yet, after all, can we wonder 1 The more they knew of
Joseph, since they had come to live on friendly terms with
him, — the more they saw of his beautiful character, — the more
they experienced of his bountiful generosity, — the more must
their former grudge against him, and the horrid deed of trea-
chery and cruelty which it prompted, have appeared in their
eyes utterly inexcusable and unpardonable. Every day's neAv
insight into Joseph's heart, as they looked on him whom they
had pierced, must have pierced their hearts with new and
fresh poignancy of grief and fear. Is it surprising that their
consciences misgave them 1 Is it surprising that they should
have felt Joseph's kindness to them to be too much to last, —
the assurance of his perfect and unchanging forgiveness to be
too good news to be true 1 Need we wonder that they should
have tried to enlist their father on their side, — and get him to
enforce, by a dying charge to Joseph, that loving and beloved
son's own purpose of mercy, if it should begin to falter 1 So
Joseph may have felt. He is not, therefore, offended. He
willingly accepts his father's commandment, as even a better
reason for forgiving his brethren tlian his own spontaneous
inclination.
Is not this the very mind of Jesus 1 Is not this the
security which he gives to us 1 Is he not ever anxious to
assure us that what he does for us and to us, is all done in
obedience to his Father's commandment 1 Nor does he wait
till we quote that commandment of his Father to him ; he
testifies of it to us. He is beforehand with us. He himself
interposes this great guarantee, — this sure warrant of faith.
It is not my doing, he seems to say of that salvation which he
works out for us. My lajdng down my life for you, — my
forgiving your sins on the earth, — my receiving you when you
come to me, — my raising you up at the last day ; — all that is
not really my doing. No. Not my doing : "I came not to
334 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.
do my own will, but the will of liim that sent me." It is his
will ; it is his commandment ; for you and me alike. It is he
who comxmands you to look to me, and believe in me. It is
he who commands me not to cast you out in any wise, but to
receive you, and give you everlasting life, and raise you up at
the last day. Yes ! it is my Father's commandment ; and " as
he giveth me commandment so I do." For I love the Father ;
I and the Father are one. Therefore you are safe in casting
yourselves into my arms ; safe as the sheep of my pasture.
'' My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow
me : and I give unto them eternal life ; and they shall never
perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.
My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all ; and
no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I
and my Father are one" (John x. 27-30).
FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH. 335
LXXII.
FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH— LOOKING FROM
EGYPT TO CANAAN.
Genesis l. 22-26,
By faitli Josepli, wlien lie died, made mention of the departing of the
children of Israel ; and gave commandment concerning his bones, —
Hebrews xi. 22,
This is entirely a Hebrew ending of the life of Josepli. Not
a trace of his Egyptian connection is in it ; nothing of what
pertains to his position as Pharaoh's favourite minister, and
ruler over all the land of Egy[3t.
How is it so ] Has he forfeited or lost the king's regard 1
Has he experienced the vicissitudes of royal caprice and
courtly life 1 Is he in disgrace ] or in compulsory retirement ?
— the victim of conspiracy or of jealousy — awakened, perhaps,
by his open leanings towards Canaan and the prospects of his
family there *? Nothing of the sort appears. The brief notice,
in the Book of Exodus, of the change of Egy^^tian policy
which led to Israel's oppression, surely implies the reverse ;
that Joseph's influence continued unabated, not only while he
lived, but even long afterwards ; " There arose up a new king-
over Egypt, which knew not Joseph " (Exod. i. 8). It is not
probable that the king's friendly disposition towards Joseph,
which had been shown so conspicuously at the funeral of his
father Jacob, suffered any diminution during the fifty years of
his own survivino; lifetime. All the more remarkable is the
336 FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH.
fact that the record of these years, and of their close, has so
much of a Hebrew, and so little, or rather absolutely nothing,
of an Egyptian character and complexion.
The observation, indeed, as has been already seen, may be
extended more widely. From the moment of the Hebrew
family coming on the stage, the Egyptian element in the
drama becomes subordinate, and occupies the background.
It appears, indeed — and now and then appears prominently
enough — as for instance in the princely arrangements made
first for Jacob's removal to Egypt, and then for his burial
in Canaan. Still it is in a Hebrew point of view, that these
instances of the Egyptian monarch's munificent kindness are
recorded. And it remains true that, so far as Joseph in par-
ticular is concerned, his Egyptian rank, state, and power, are
made little account of in the narrative, after his relations to
his own family are resumed.
Now why is it so ] It is not enough to allege the merely
natural partiality of a Hebrew historian, smitten with the
spirit of national prejudice or pride — counting Egypt com-
paratively nothing, and the interests of the house of Israel all
in all. For that very spirit would rather naturally have led
such a historian to give a studied, and even exaggerated,
elaboration of all that might tend to keep up the idea of
Joseph's Egyptian glory — as shedding its halo on the people,
few in number and of doubtful respectability as to profession
or occupation, who claimed the benefit of his name. The
more he could tell of Joseph's greatness in Egypt, and his
great influence with Egypt's king, after the settlement of .the
Israelites in Goshen, the more would he think that he
advanced the renown of his race. The singular abstinence, in
the inspired record, from all such glorying — and its simple
merging of Joseph, the Egyptian Vizier, in Joseph, as first the
son of Jacob and then his heir — must be felt by every
competent judge to be a strong internal j^roof or presumption
of its inspiration. This is certainly not the manner of men.
LOOKING FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 337
It is not thus that even an honest Hebrew annalist, left to
himself, would have delineated the close of Joseph's career.
Between his father's death and his own, upwards of half-a-
century intervened ; and the whole period is passed over in
all but entire silence. Not a hint is given of the way in
which these years were spent. All that we learn is that the
two elements or conditions of prosperity, usually held of much
account among men — and especially among the Israelites —
and reckoned to be the reward or acknowledgment of righteous-
ness, were found realised in the case of Joseph. Length of
days was his — and the privilege of seeing his race perpetuated :
" Joseph dwelt in Egypt, he, and his father's house : and
Joseph lived an hundred and ten years. And Joseph saw
Ephraim's children of the third generation ; the children also
of Machir the son of Manasseh were brought up upon Joseph's
knees" (ver. 22, 23). He lived long; and his great-grand-
children were fondled on his knee and trained under his eye.
"He saw his children's children; and," so far as appears,
" peace upon Israel " (Ps. cxxviii. 6). The gathering clouds
did not obscure his setting sun. His end was peace.
He died, belie\dng. For " by faith Joseph, when he died,
made mention of the departing of the children of Israel ; and
gave commandment concerning his bones " (Heb. xi. 22). So
the apostle testifies concerning his dying charge, in which he
" took an oath of the children of Israel, saying, God will
surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence "
(ver. 25).
But it may be asked, why did he not follow his father's
example, in the order he gave as to his remains ? He exercised
and manifested the same faith that Jacob did when he " gave
commandment concerning his bones ;" but he did not give the
same commandment ; he did not ask to be at once buried in
Canaan. He was content that his bones should be in Egypt
for ages yet to come. He made no arrangement for such a
VOL. 11. z
338 FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH.
funeral for himself as lie had given his father. Why so ? Why
should he not have left the same request to his children, that
his father left to him 1 It was not surely because he had not
the power ; his inHuence had not so far declined as that sup-
position would imply. The reigning Pharaoh would not have
made any objection to that being done for Joseph which had
been allowed in the case of Jacob. There may, indeed, have
been some change of circumstances. The relations between
the Egyptians and the Canaanites may have been somewhat
altered ; and it is easy to imagine grounds of policy or expedi-
ency on which it might not be right or wise for Joseph to
contemplate a repetition, in his own case, of the significant
scene which had marked the burial of Jacob. But it seems
more probable that the difference between his dying request
and that of his father, in regard to this matter, has a deeper
meaning, in a spiritual point of view.
1. It is very obvious that Joseph's commandment con-
cerning his bones had far more distinct and pointed reference
to the future than Jacob's had. In fact, Jacob's dying requests
(xlvii. 28-31 ; xlix. 29-32) have no explicit reference to the
future at all. He dwells only on the past. We know indeed
that his faith did embrace the future. He went down to
Egypt (xlvi. 3, 4), upon the guarantee of a promise that he
was to become a great nation there, and was to be brought up
again to Canaan, And in both of the passages in which he
intimates his wish as to his burial, — in the benediction of
Joseph's sons and in the prophetic pictures of the twelve
tribes, — he gives abundant evidence of his believing grasp of
things to come. Still it is remarkable that in what he says
about the disposal of his remains, there is no particular allusion
to the future. He dwells upon the past, with all its hereditary
associations and its incidents of domestic tenderness.
This was natural and right. He had but recently left
Canaan, — and he was an old man when he left it. What he
longs and cares for is, that his dust should mingle with kind-
LOOKING FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 339
red dust, in the grave in which his nearest and dearest rela-
tives have been laid.
In Joseph's commandment concerning his bones, on the
other hand, the past is not mentioned ; it is the future alone
that he contemplates. And this also is natural and right.
Jacob belongs to the generations that have lived and died
in Canaan ; he is associated with Abraham and Isaac. Joseph
again is the fountain-head of the generations that are to spring
up in Egypt ; he is identified with the house of Israel as it is
to be perpetuated in Egypt, down to the exodus in the time
of Moses.
The two different commandments given by Jacob and by
Joseph respectively, are thus seen to be appropriate. That of
Joseph, however, would seem to indicate the stronger and
higher faith. And accordingly it is Joseph's commandment,
and not Jacob's, that the apostle, in writing to the Hebrews,
signalises. He does full justice, it is true, to Jacob's blessing
of both the sons of Joseph (Heb. xi. 21). But in the matter
of "the commandment he gave concerning his bones" (Heb.
xi. 22), Joseph stands out as a more conspicuous example of
faith than Jacob. Mere natural affection, and the touching
memory of the olden time, may, to a large extent, explain what
Jacob said on the subject. Joseph, on the other hand, has his
eye exclusively fixed on what is " hoped for" and " unseen."
The orders issued, the directions given, correspond with
these two different states of mind.
Take my body back to Canaan, — away at once from Egypt ;
let it rest beside the bodies of my fathers and my wife. Let
my lot be with them, — in the land which you, my posterity,
are to inherit, — but still rather as one of them, than as one of
you. Such is the meaning of Jacob's injunction.
Joseph, on the other hand, prefers rather to cast in his lot,
so far as the disposal of h is corporeal frame is concerned, with
the present and coming races of Israel in Egypt.
Keep me among you, — my unburied bones, — my em-
340 FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH.
balmed body. I desire not to be separated from you. Even
after death, I would, as far as possible, be one of you. I have
no doubt of your return to Canaan; and my dying msh is to
return, so far as my bones can represent me, along with you.
I do not choose that any part of me should reach Canaan be-
fore you ; for I do not choose that even my decease should
separate me from you. My father belonged to our ancestry,
and sought to be with them in his grave ; I belong to you and
your seed. I am content to "bide my time ;" to wait for the
consummation of my desire concerning my body, — which is,
after all, identical with my father's — until what I believe, as he
believed it, is realised and fulfilled ; — for " God will surely
visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence" (ver. 25).
2. The possession of Joseph's bones, — the custody of them
under so solemn a charge, — must have been a signal benefit
to the Israelites in Egypt ; — more so than the possession of
Jacob's bones would have been. The two arrangements, fitted
into one another, — the last being the complement of the first ;
— and taken together, they completed the lesson which the
Israelites, in their peculiar circumstances, needed to learn.
To have laid up the body of Jacob, — swathed and em-
balmed,— in the form of a mummy, according to Egyptian
usage, — to be kept for some thirty or forty generations, — as
an heirloom in their tribes, — would have been palpably un-
natural and unsuitable. Such a mode of dealing with the
Hebrew patriarch's remains, — he being a mere stranger in
Egypt, — but yesterday come down into the land, — while all
his ties were elsewhere, — would have been incongruous. His
burial in Canaan is, in every view, more becoming and more
in harmony with his history.
It is otherwise with Joseph, — himself almost a naturalised
Egyptian, — and as an Israelite, associated far more with Israel
in Egypt, than with Israel in Canaan.
And then, the difference of the times and ciixumstances
is to be noted.
LOOKING FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 341
When Jacob died, Israel was in the first full flush of favour
and prosperity in Egypt ; the world in Egypt was smiling on
them. They were feeding their flocks in the best pastures,
and basking in the sunshine of royal patronage. They needed
to be reminded that Egypt, though the land of plenty, was
not their rest, — that Canaan was their home.
When Joseph died, a change was near at hand. Already,
there may have been ominous signs of approaching trouble.
The prophetic warning which Abraham got was about to be
accomplished. They needed to be reconciled to Egypt as
the house of bondage, by the assurance of a joyous return to
Canaan at last.
Both of these needs are suitably met by the dying com-
mandments of Jacob and of Joseph respectively, " concerning
their bones."
Jacob virtually says : — You are now in the enjoyment of
all worldly ease and plenty. The famine is past, — and with
the famine, other sore miseries besides. You have abund-
ance of the good things of this life, — and the evil con-
sequences of former sins and errors are put right. Egypt,
■which is your world, is now a sort of paradise to you. But
forget not Canaan. You are merely strangers and sojourners
here ; your real citizenship is elsewhere. The world in
Egypt is all smiles ; but let not its smiles ensnare or enslave
you. Set not your hearts upon it. Love it not, nor the
things of it. As you carry your dead father up to Canaan,
let what you are doing teach you to keep Canaan ever in
view. Egypt has its pleasures, — alas ! too often sinful ; but
the promises are all bound up with Canaan. There, where
you lay me, beside Abraham and Isaac, let your hope always
be centred. Let the habit of your life be fashioned, not after
Egypt's license, but after Canaan's holy covenant.
Joseph again, in an altered state of things, may be held
to say :— Egypt, which is the world to you, is about to
become a house of bondage, — a furnace of affliction. Its
342 FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH.
smiles are to give place to frowns, — its joys to bitter grief.
There is to be little more of bright sunshine in this world for
yon, but only ever-deepening gloom. But courage ! Be of
good cheer. Be not dismayed. The darkness will not last
for ever. This weary Egypt, this region of cloud and
storm, — of oppression, trouble, and woe, — is not to be your
dwelling-place always. Canaan is erelong to open to you its
blessed gates. I am sure of it ; so sure of it am I, that I
specially ask you not to do for me what I did for Jacob.
I am as intensely bent as he was on having Canaan as
my final rest ; I intend that my bones shall lie there with
his. But I would not prevent or anticipate you. I leave
my bones with you, to be carried up to Canaan, only when
you go up to Canaan yourselves. Keep them. And as often
as you look at the coffin in which they are put, let your faith
and hope become as bright as mine now is. Be assured, as I
am assured, that the tribulations of Egypt are to end in the
peace and joy of Canaan.
How far Joseph's purpose may have been accomplished, —
how far the preservation of his body, in a state of constant
preparation for being carried up out of Egypt to Canaan, may
have contributed to keep up, among the Israelites, during the
years of their affliction, the memory of the Abrahamic cove-
nant and the expectation of the promised deliverance, — it is
impossible to say. The history here is almost a complete
blank, an utter void. Beyond the briefest possible notices,
we have no account of the rise and progress of the Egyptian
persecution of the Israelites. And we have no account
whatever of the religious state of the Israelites during the
persecution. But we know that when the time of the Exodus
came, the commandment of Joseph concerning his bones was
freshly remembered and faithfully obeyed (Exod. xiii. 1 9 ;
Josh. xxiv. 32). And we can scarcely doubt that the sacred
deposit had the effect of keeping alive, at least among the
LOOKING FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 343
more thoughtful and spiritually enlightened of the people,
that trust in the God of their fathers, and in his promises,
which enabled, as we may well believe, others besides the
parents of Moses, to brave the wrath of the king, and hold
fast the hope of a Saviour. Certainly, Joseph's dying act
had a strong tendency to effect such a result. As a mani-
festation of his own faith, it was fitted to confirm the faith of
the people in his assurance, " God will surely visit you."
" So Joseph died, being an hundred and ten years old ;
and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin in Egypt"
(ver. 26). And so ends the history or biography, which far
above all others, save only one, rivets the mind and ravishes
the heart.
The two stand out alone, — the life of Joseph and the life
of Jesus, — parallel at least in many important aspects, if not
intended to stand in a closer relation to one another.
The parallelism is of itself suggestive. To one living be-
fore the coming of Christ, if he was at all spiritually minded,
it was fitted to suggest thoughts connected with the Saviour
yet to come. Taken in connection with the rite of sacrifice,
and other evidently anticipative usages and ordinances, it
could scarcely fail to aff'ord some insight into the necessary
conditions which the Saviour must fulfil, as well as also into
the manner of his fulfilment of them. To us now, under the
guidance of the same Spirit who inspired the two great
biographies, their parallelism may furnish the means of a not
unprofitable comparison between the two deliverers and their
respective deliverances.
I. The character of Joseph fits him pre-eminently for
being a type of Christ. The two qualities most conspicuous
in Joseph, apart from his personal innocence and blameless-
ness, are on the one hand, his meekness and gentleness, and on
the other hand, his commanding and authoritative wisdom and
benevolence. His personal purity, his spotless and stainless
344 FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH.
integrity, — the result conspicuously in him of renewing grace,
tried and tested by temptation, — made him a fitting pattern
of him who was " holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from
sinners." And then, when we add to that, first, his unresist-
ing and uncomplaining endurance of wrong, — and secondly,
his capacity of rule and government, — we have the very
features or attributes of personal worth or excellency, — in
kind though not of course in degree, — that constitute the
beauty and the strength of " the man Cluist Jesus ;" — the
suffering and reigning Jesus.
II. The personal history of Joseph is eminently typical,
both in the deep humiliation to which he was subjected, and
in the glory which followed. He sufi'ers, not for any sins of
his own, but through the sins of those to whom he would do
good. He bears, in a sense, the blame and the doom which
others had deserved. Strict and proper substitution, indeed,
there is not, and could not be, in his case. Of that peculiar
characteristic of the suflferings of Christ the only exact type is
to be found in the animal sacrifices of the old economy, — the
slain lamb, — the blood of bulls and of goats ; and even that is
imperfect, as representing him, who "through the eternal
Spirit offered himself without spot to God." But short of
that, in the load of sorrow and shame which Joseph in his
innocency and tried holiness had to bear, weighing him down
to the very gates of death, — in the cup which he had to
drink, and which he took, not as at the hands of men only,
but immediately from the hand of God, — the cup filled to
overflowing with the pressed fruit of other men's sins, — we
have what assimilates in no ordinary degree Joseph — betrayed,
sold, condemned, and as good as dead in his hopeless dungeon,
— to Jesus, amid the circumstances of his life-long grief, and his
last agony. And then the bright side of the picture, in
Joseph's case as in that of Jesus, is his elevation to the right
hand of the great king ; his investiture with full authority and
command over all the king's resources in all his realms ; his
LOOKING FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 345
receiving power over all that he may give life to many ; his
being exalted a Prince and a Saviour.
III. The actual salvation wrought is of a typical sort. It
is so in itself ; for it is the giving of life ; — " to save much
people alive." It is deliverance from death, — certain and in-
evitable death. It is " the filling of the hungry with good
things, while the rich are sent empty away." And then, as to
the manner of it, — the extent to which it reaches, and the way
in which its blessings are diffused, — is not Joseph, like Jesus,
" a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of God's people
Israel]" He is "a light to lighten the Gentiles." For at
first " he came unto his own, and his own received him not."
His brethren, the sons of Israel, to whom he carried a message
of peace from home, cast him out. It was in Gentile Egypt
that the first light of his saving power and glory shone. But
"God's people Israel" were soon embraced in the shining
of it.
Is it not so in the dispensation of the gospel salvation 1
Will it not be seen to be so, more and more, as the end draws
near 1 Now are the times of the Gentiles. Now is Jesus the
liofht of the Gentiles. But the Lord hath not cast off Israel.
" Blindness" indeed "in part is happened to Israel, until the
fulness of the Gentiles be come in." But in the end, " all
Israel shall be saved : as it is written, There shall come out of
Zion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from
Jacob. For this is my covenant unto them, when I shall take
away their sins" (Bom. xL 25-27).
IV. The death of Joseph, — or rather " the commandment
which he gave concerning his bones," — may also be regarded
as in some sense typical. It has something like a counterpart
in the confidence with which the Messiah speaks of his own
resurrection in that Messianic Psalm : " Therefore my heart
is glad, and my glory rejoiceth ; my flesh also shall rest in
hope. For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell ; neither wilt
thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption. Thou wilt show
346 FAITH AND HOPE IN DEATH.
me the patli of life: in thy presence is fuhiess of joy; at thy
right hand there are pleasures for evermore" (Ps. xvi. 9-11).
In a higher sense, and with a deeper meaning than
Joseph could reach, — Jesus, when he spoke of his death,
pointed to the inheritance which his risen saints are to share
with him, their risen Saviour.
But, laying its typical meaning aside, let us once more
think of Joseph's dying charge, as distinguished from that of
Jacob, — or rather let us take them both together. They had
their separate voices to utter, — their separate lessons to teach.
Dying Jacob would carry his children's minds and hearts
away from Egypt's pomps and pleasures, its vanities and pros-
perities, to the quiet rest of Canaan, where his bones are laid.
Dying Joseph would reconcile his brethren to the toil
and woe of Egypt's long bondage, by the animating considera-
tion that they still have him, in a sense, among them, — his
body committed to their charge, — in the full assurance of its
being carried by them to Canaan, when they go thither in
triumph at last.
May it not be said of us, if we believe in Jesus, that in
the death of every saint wdio falls asleep before our eyes, Ave
have the two views, the two lessons, combined ?
A father in Israel, or a brother beloved, dies. We say of
him that he departs. He departs to be with Christ, which is
far better. He is gone to Canaan. He passes into heaven.
And as he passes away from us, " he being dead, yet speaketh."
What is he saying to us 1 Cleave not to Egypt. Be not
drawTi by the world's smiles to love the world. I leave you,
perhaps, prosperous and happy ; but I ask you to go with me,
in spirit, as I enter the promised land. Let there be, as it
LOOKING FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 347
were, a funeral service there, in which you join. Nay, rather,
come with me and see how blessed is my entrance into
Canaan's rest. And ever after feel that Canaan is your rest
too. Egypt is not your home. Be its Goshen pastures ever
so pleasant, and ever so plentiful, love them not. Be often,
in spirit, returning with me to Canaan.
Again, what else is he saying to us? Weary not in
Egypt. Be not impatient. Earth may be to you a house of
bondage, all sad and dreary. But my bones are with you in
it. My body, still united to Christ, rests in its grave among
you. I am sure of its being brought to Canaan ere long. It
is but a little while. All earth's groans are past. The dead
are raised, — the living changed. All are with the Lord. " I
would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them
which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which
have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose
again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring
with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord,
that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the
Lord, shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord
himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, witli the
voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God : and the
dead in Christ shall rise first : Then we which are alive and
remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds,
to meet the Lord in the air : and so shall we ever be with the
Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words " (1
Thess. iv. 13-18).
APPENDIX.
I. OBSEEVATIONS ON THE STRUCTUEE OF THE BOOK
OF GENESIS AS A WHOLE.
I PUT into the fonn of a postscript wliat some may think
might perhaps be more properly placed as a preface or intro-
duction ; and I do so because it gives some general, and
sufficiently desultory views that have been suggested to me in
a review of the entire book, rather than an explanation of the
method of my exposition of it. These views, in short, partake
more of the nature and character of afterthought than of the
nature and character of forethought.
I. Moses, as it seems to me, has fared very much as
Homer has fared, at the hands of minute critics. In particu-
lar, the Book of Genesis has undergone the same sort of
treatment as the Iliad. Both have been disintegrated, and
torn into shreds and fragments ; parcelled out among a motley
and miscellaneous crowd of unknown documents and imaginary
authors ; and resolved into a mere medley of traditionary
hymns or songs, strung together, — if not at random, by some
fortuitous concourse of atoms ; — by some marvel or miracle
giving undesigned concinnity and completeness to the whole.
For that is the phenomenon which is to be accounted for
in both cases alike. And in both cases alike it is the answer
to the objection urged against the historical tradition of a
single authorship.
350 APPENDIX.
The force of the answer lies in its being an appeal from
word-catching and hair-splitting analysis, to the broad, general
impression which a large-minded and large-hearted earnest
reader cannot fail to receive. No one who throws his o\^ai
soul into the Iliad, if he is at all capable of doing so, can have
the slightest doubt as to its being a single soul mth wdiom he
has communion. He desiderates and demands a Homer ;
not a lot of song- waiters but a solitary seer ; a " vates sacer ;''
a genius creating unity because it is itself one. I believe it to
be the same Avitli Genesis. I think it has the stamp and im-
press of an undivided authorship. There is a completeness
about it, — an epic roundness, with beginning, middle, and end,
— and Avith a marvellous adaptation and subordination of
seeming episodes to the onward march of the plot, — that I
confess I would rather question the unity of the ^nead, on
the score of such interludes as that of Nisus and Euryales, —
or the unity of Hamlet, on the score of the grave-digging
scene, — than I would deny to this Book of Genesis the unity
of a sole and single aui;horship — not to speak of a sole and
single divine inspiration.
II. Having this conviction, I am not much troubled with
questions raised as to the pre-existing materials of which the
author may have made use, or the subsequent emendations,
interpolations, and alterations, which the book may have under-
gone from age to age, until its final revision was adjusted,
perhaps in the time of Ezra, when the canon of the Old
Testament Scriptures is supposed by many to have been
finally fixed.
I have no faith, I confess, in the imaginary library of such
a visionary as Ewald. I do not suppose that scholars will allow
him, mth impunity, to "call" books, like " spirits, from the
vasty deep ;" — as if he could recover the burnt Sybilline leaves,
and read them off to us as clearly as Tarquin, if he had chosen,
might have heard them read.
At the same time, in maintaining the unity of Genesis and
EXPLANATORY OBSERVATIONS. S51
of its authorship, it is important to exphiin that this is quite
consistent with there being many traces in the book, both of
earher documents or traditions, and of later editings and
revisions. In fact, from the very nature of the case, it must be
so. AVhen the book was written, there must have been a litera-
ture of some sort — lyrical, legendary, monumental — of which
the writer could not fail to take advantage. And it is absurd
to suppose that the learned men who had to deal with the book,
— imperfectly preserved from age to age till the canon was
complete, would deny themselves the liberty, — especially if they
were under di^4ne inspiration, — of making such corrections and
explanations as, in the circumstances, the lapse of time required.
III. But I must add that, while fully admitting these
obvious considerations, — and indeed relying on them as ac-
counting for, if they do not explain, not a few textual diffi-
culties,— I cannot see my way to concur in the theory that
distinct documents, such as may be separately and systemati-
cally characterised, are to be found recognisable in this book.
I am unable, for instance, to see the necessity for assuming
the two annalists, the " Jehovist " and the " Elohist," — into
whose double thread our critical friends are so fond of resolv-
ing the Mosaic cord. I very much doubt the possibility of a
clear and consistent "redding of the marches" between the
two, if it is to be carried out all through ; and I tliink there
is " a more excellent way " of meeting the difficulty.
I have adverted to this in my exposition of the first two
chapters of Genesis, and elsewhere in these volumes ; bor-
rowing light from the Lord's statement to Moses, " And I
appeared unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, by the
name of God Almighty, but by my name Jehovah was I not
known to them " (Exodus vi. 3).
That statement, I apprehend, can scarcely be taken liter-
ally to mean that the name — " Jehovah " — by which the
Supreme Being announced himself to Moses and the Israelites
in Egypt had never been in use before among the patriarchs.
352 APPENDIX.
It rather points, as I think, to the difference of signification
between the two names ; — the one, Eloim, denoting sovereignty
and power, the other, Jehovah, suggesting the idea of faith-
fulness or unchangeableness (Mai. iii. 6) ; — and to the
suitableness of the two names to the two eras in question
respectively. In former patriarchal times, God appears chiefly
in the character of one choosing or electing those who are to
be the objects of his favour, giving them " exceeding great
and precious promises," and ratifying and confirming with
them a most gracious covenant. With such a transaction on
his part, the assertion of absolute sovereignty and almighty
power is in harmony and in keeping. Now, on the other
hand, when he is about to come forward and interpose for the
purpose of fulfilling these old assurances, and with that yiew,
wishes to secure the confidence of the new generation in whose
experience and with Avhose co-operation the work is to be done,
— the appeal to the immutability of his nature, as proving or
implying " the immutability of his counsel " (Heb. vi. 1 7), is
relevant and appropriate. Formerly he spoke as the omni-
potent ruler over all, whose hand none can stay, to whom
none can say what doest thou ! Now he speaks as the I AM,
" the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."
Considering the importance attached in these days and
among that people to the import and bearing of names, I
prefer some such exi^lanation of this passage in Exodus to one
which would make it the assertion of a mere historical fact as
to the dates of the two names being in use ; — and a fact too,
which, if it is to be understood strictly according to the letter,
must be regarded as of doubtful probability. And I am per-
suaded that in the passages in Genesis in which either name
occurs, a reason can for the most part be found for its being
employed rather than the other, founded on the nature of the
subject treated of, or the view which the writer desires to give
of the events or incidents he may be recording, without its
being necessary to postulate distinct fragments ^^dth^ distinct
authorships.
EXPLANATORY OBSERVATIONS. 353
I believe, as I have attempted to show, that we have a
parallel and illustrative instance in the manner of using the
two names, Jacob and Israel ; the one denoting natural weak-
ness, tending to guile, the other divine strength apprehended
by prevailing faith. On many occasions, as it would seem,
the selection of the one name rather than the other is deter-
mined by the attitude in which the patriarch is presented, or
the act in which he is engaged. I would not indeed press
this principle of interpretation too far, either in the case of the
two patriarchal designations, or in the case of the two divine
titles ; and I repeat that I am not troubled by the hypothesis
of advantage having been taken by Moses of materials previ-
ously current in the form of traditionary narratives or songs.
Surely, however, it is being wise above what is written, to
pretend so confidently as some do, to disentangle tlie Elohist
and the Jehovist elements in the narrative. It turns the
mind away from higher and more spiritual considerations
which the appropriateness of the name used to the theme on
hand might suggest ; and it breaks the continuity of a history
which, I venture again to say, presents in its onward move-
ment, from first to last, a specimen of epic oneness unparalleled
in literature ; its very digressions and apparent interruptions
admitting of satisfactory and probable explanatioji.*
lY. There are some other points relative to the mode of
interpreting such a book as Genesis, upon which questions
might be raised and explanations given ; and there are several
principles of exposition, to which reference is incidentally made
in these pages, and which might admit of fuller illustration
and vindication. One, for example, is the extent to which we
may avail ourselves of the undoubted fact of an oral revelation
having preceded the written word, as aff'ecting the manner in
which that word would probably be composed, and the kind
of evidence it might be expected to aff'ord of the leading truths
of religion. Another is the amount of accjuaintance with the
* See for instance my remarks on chapter xxxviii.
VOL. IL 2 A
354 APPENDIX.
doctrines of the Gospel which may be presumed in the early
world, as rather alluded to and taken for granted, than com-
municated for the first time, in God's successive discoveries of
himself to the fathers. Then a third question might turn
upon the value of incidental quotations from the Old Testa-
ment in the New, as warranting the application of hints thus
given considerabl}^ beyond the particular passages quoted, as
well as upon the legitimate use of resemblances, parallelisms,
and analogies, occurring in the comparison of incidents and
predictions, under different and far distant dispensations.
While a fourth, and very interesting problem, might be to fix
the limit between a sound and safe discretion and a fanciful
license, in filling up the brief sketches and outlines of the
inspired record, and drawing inferences from them ; — presum-
ing upon a certain spiritual tact, or taste, or apprehension, a
feeling of probability, a sense of concinnity, or congruity,
which, even apart from such precise and palpable evidence as
can be critically or logically stated, will often give to a rightly
constituted and rightly exercised understanding, a prompt and
full assurance of the mind of the Spirit.
But I do not feel myself called upon, even if I were com-
petent, to discuss such matters critically and abstractly : I
think it enough to indicate, that in preparing these papers, I
have had them in my view. How far I have succeeded in
practically applying the rules and methods indicated mthin
due bounds, it is not for me to judge. In one particular,
perhaps, I may be censured for going too far, although not,
as I am of opinion, justly. I refer to the amount of know-
ledge on the fundamental articles of revealed religion, and
especially on the remedial plan of the Gospel, which I have
assumed to have existed among men before the written word
came into being. That written word, as it seems to me, takes
for granted such knowledge to a considerable extent, and
proceeds upon the faith of it — supplementing it and correcting
it often by allusions and hints, rather than formally teaching
EXPLANATORY OBSERVATIONS. 355
or communicating it, as if for the first 4ime. I refer to such
heads of doctrine as the being and attributes of God; the
unity of the divine nature, with perhaps some intimation of
the phirality of persons in that unity ; the guilt or condemna-
tion of sin ; the manner of its remission through a propitiatory
sacrifice ; the calling and conversion of sinners ; the promised
Saviour ; the resurrection and final judgment ; the eternal
state. I do not of course mean that the knowledge on these
subjects which the written word might assume, and to which
it might appeal, was at all so full and accurate as what
revelation gives ; and in revelation itself I trace a growing
clearness of development. I admit also that, depending on
oral tradition alone for its transmission from age to age, the
knowledge must have deteriorated in its character, and become
corrupt and imperfect, when the written word began its teach-
ing, as compared with what it was at first, as given by God
originally. All that I contend for is, that we may fairly
regard the written word as in such particulars reviving and
ratifying the primevaV^^ creed, not yet wholly lost, and may
interpret therefore upon the principle of its assuming and
appealing to a measure of intelligence in those to whom it was
given, that would enable them, under the guidance of the
Spirit, to understand its suggestions and intimations better,
and draw the right inferential conclusions better, thaii we
sometimes give them credit for.
356 APPENDIX.
II*
For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving
wife is sanctified by the husband : else were your children unclean ;
but now are they holy. — For what knowest thou, 0 wife, whether
thou shalt save thy husband ? or how knowest thou, 0 man, whether
thou shalt save thy wife?" — 1 Coeixthiaxs vii. 14, 16.
In these two verses the apostle gives the rationale or explana-
tion of the practical rules he is laying down relative to the
case of a married person becoming a believer, while the
partner in the marriage-state remains unconverted. In sub-
stance the apostle decides that the marriage-tie is not dis-
solved by the conversion of either party to the faith of the
gospel.
An apparent exception is made in the intermediate verse, —
or rather a caution is added, — to the effect that what he says
of a believing husband or wife who might think it a duty to
separate from an unbeliever, does not apply when it is the
unbelieving party that refuses to remain connected with the
belie\dng. That is altogether a different matter. If the
unconverted husband will not live with the converted Avife,
but insists on leaving her, on account of her conversion, let
him go ; and so, also, let the unbelieving wife go, if she will
not continue to be the wife of her believing husband. In every
such instance, where the movement is on the part of the unbeliev-
ing or unconverted spouse, the believing or converted one incurs
no responsibility, and is in fact utterly helpless. He is not,
* Supplementary to paper on circumcision, xxi. Volume first, page 279.
SUPPLEMENT TO XXI. VOLUME FIRST. 357
therefore, to distress or vex himself. The marriage-tie is not,
in such circumstances, to become a bondage ; nor is the peace
of the church to be broken by questions and litigations of
such a nature. For, let it be noted, the exceptional case
could only arise in countries in which the law or custom
tolerated, if it did not sanction, this pretence for dis-
solving marriage ; and in which, therefore, a heathen
husband forsaking his wife, on the express ground of her
being a convert to Christianity, or a heathen wife forsaking
her husband on that ground, would be protected or patronised.
The exception, accordingly, does not weaken the ordinary and
general rule that the conversion of either party does not break
the marriage-tie. And above all, it does not touch the obliga-
tion laid upon the converted party to continue true and
faithful to that tie, if the other party is willing. The
direction on that point is plain and unequivocal, without
reserve or qualification ; " If any brother hath a vdfe that
believeth not, and she be pleased to dwell with him, let him
not put her away. And the woman which hath an husband
that believeth not, and if he be pleased to dwell with her,
let her not leave him" (ver. 12, 13).
This direction is in the first place introduced by Paul
(10, 11), as a corollary or inference from the broad general
statute respecting marriage and divorce, laid down by the
Lord personally ; — " It hath been said, whosoever shall put
away his wife, let him give her a writing of divorcement :
but I say unto you, that whosoever shall put away his wife,
saving for the cause of fornication, causeth her to commit
adultery : and whosoever shall marry her that is divorced
committeth adultery" (Matt. v. 31, 32). What the apostle
goes on secondly to ordain (12, 13), as to a believer continuing
to live with an unbeliever, is his commentary upon the text, as
it stands in the legal code of the great Lawgiver himself.
There is really nothing here to raise any question as to
differences and degrees of authority or inspiration in the
358 APPENDIX.
Bible ; nothing even postponing the word ^vATitten by an
apostle to the -word spoken by Christ himself, in the flesh ;
as if it were of less weight and value, or were less truly and
literally the oracle of God. All that Paul intends is to
distinguish the text in the law of marriage, from the com-
mentary ; the text as settled by the Lord himself personally,
from the commentary or application dictated by the Holy
Ghost to the apostles.
The general law of marriage and divorce, says Paul to the
Corinthians, is expressly determined and declared, once for all,
by the divine founder of our religion ; and that law, in the
precise letter of it, sufficiently disposes of one of the points
raised among you ; namely, how far it is right generally to hold
the marriage-tie broken on considerations of religion. This
was enough to expose and put down the error of those who
affected to think that the gospel of Christ made them too pure
and spiritual to continue still in the married .state ; — an error
springing out of the spurious and fictitious refining upon the
gospel style and standard of holiness to which the eastern
philosophy gave rise.
But another point might be mooted, which the mere text
of the law, as laid down by the Lord personally, might not be
supposed to meet ; namely, the special point, as to the case of
one of the parties becoming Christian and the other remaining
heathen. This point might occasion difficulty; particularly
among the Jewish members of the church ; when they
thought of the stern denunciation of such mixed marriages
by their lawgiver; and the stern and unrelenting measures
taken to dissolve them by the reformers of their polity, Ezra
and Nehemiah (Exod. xxxiv. 1 6 ; Deut. vii. 3 ; Ezra ix. and
X. ; Nell. xiii. 23). Paul, therefore, proceeds to deal with
that point ; — not doubtfully, as if uncertain of his inspira-
tion and authority ; — but plainly and peremptorily. He
takes up the text of the law, as laid down by the
Lord, and unhesitatingly adds his comment or explana-
SLTPLEME^sT TO XXT. VOLUME FIRST. 359
tion. He gives his interpretation of it, or Ms finding
under it, to the effect of ordering the believing husband or
wife to remain even with an unbelieving partner. Such,
as he determines it, is the fair import and legitimate force of
the law spoken by the Lord himself ; — so far virtually super-
seding or reversing the Mosaic rule, enforced by Ezra and Ne-
hemiah — a rule evidently rendered necessary by the peculiar
position of the Jewish nation ; and not therefore always or
universally applicable and binding.
Now, in the two verses before us (14 and 16), the apostle
brings out the theory or principle upon which this practical
rule of conduct is to be vindicated or explained. He assigns
for it a twofold reason ; a reason somewhat formal, and if we
may so speak, relative or relational, connected with the stand-
ing which a Christian household has before God ; and another
reason more real, practical, and moral, bearing upon the oppor-
tunities of doing good which the household economy presents.
For we may conceive of a really conscientious member of
the Corinthian church, — ^^particularly if he were a Jewish con-
vert,— bringing forward a double objection against the apostle's
rule. You desire me to continue joined in the marriage yoke
with one who is still an unbeliever ; not even in name and by
profession a follower of Jesus. But I have two serious diffi-
culties and scruples of conscience about doing so. In the first
place, may not my standing in relation to God be thereby af-
fected 1 And in the second place, may not my personal charac-
ter run the risk of being contaminated, tainted, and corrupted 1
My position or standing as a believer in the sight of God
is one of holiness ; — in the sense of his having separated me,
and set me apart for himself, so that I am in a new and pecu-
liar covenant-relation to him ; — called and consecrated to be
his. May not that position be compromised if I remain a
member of a heathen or unchristian family, which, as such, is
in the relation of an unclean or common thing to God?
Again, by God's grace I have obtained the gift of saving
360 APPENDIX.
faith — and I seek to live by faith, and walk by faith, with
God, in the world 1 Is there no danger of my being drawn
away and enticed, if, in so near a fellowship as that of mar-
riage, I still associate with an unconverted person ? May I not
be tempted to apostatise or become a backslider 1 May I not
thus fall away from my steadfastness 1
Ko, says the apostle. Your two difficulties are, indeed,
such as might naturally occur to you : your scruples are not
idle and vain. But they may be met.
Thus, as to the first, mark the grace and condescension of
God. Such is the favour you find, as a believer, in his sight,
and such his benignant complacency in you, that he consents
to see your family in you, and not you in your family ; to give
your family the benefit of your relation of nearness and friend-
ship to himself, instead of your having tlie loss and damage of
their relation of estrangement ; to view the household as par-
taking in your consecration to be the Lord's, rather than you
as partaking in their unblessed standing before him ; to account
them, in this sense, holy for your sake, and not you common
or unclean for theirs. On this head, therefore, you need have
no anxiety.
And again, as to the other point, your reasonable and
commendable fear lest your faith should be undermined and
corrupted by such association with an unbeliever ; consider
that, by the grace of God, in answer to your prayers, the result
may be the very reverse. Your tender and holy walk ; — ren-
dered all the more tender and holy by the very apprehension
you feel lest the spirituality of your "\dews, and the heavenli-
ness of your aims, should suff'er from the sphere in Avliich
you are forced to move ; — your faithful testimony — your consis-
tent conduct — your aff'ectionate assiduities — your discreet
utterance of a word in season — your patience, gentleness, and
love ; — may be the means, in the hand of the Spirit, of con-
verting to God the very party whose influence you dread as
likely to draw your own soul away from him ; " For what
SUPPLEMENT TO XXI. VOLUME FIRST. 3G1
knowest thou, 0 mfe, whether thou shalt save thy husband 1
or how knowest thou, 0 man, whether thou shalt save thy
wife?" (ver. 16). Or, as the apostle Peter has it — "Like-
wise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands ; that,
if any obey not the word, they also may without the word be
won by the conversation of the wives ; while they behold your
chaste conversation coupled with fear — (1 Peter iii. 1, 2).
Thus the apostle disposes of the two scruples which a
believer might feel, as to complying with the rule he has
announced ; and establishes that rule, by laying down two
principles, deeply seated in the domestic constitution, as it is
ordained by God to be the central element alike of society and
of the church. It is to the first of these principles that I pro-
pose now to call attention.
The principle upon which God proceeds in dealing with a
household as represented by a believing head, whether it be the
husband or the wife, has its origin, of course, in his own sove •
reign appointment. It is of his mere good pleasure that he
adopts a method of this kind in counting up the families of
men; — reckoning as his own, and as in an important sense
holy unto himself, every family that has even one of its heads
in a position to commend it in believing prayer to him. "We
do not, therefore, require to bring arguments of natural reason
in support of an arrangement which confessedly rests exclu-
sively on the divine will, and could only be discovered and
ascertained by a divine revelation of that will. At the same
time, it may be satisfactory to observe — 1. That there is no
valid presumption against it on any grounds of natural reason
and the common sense of mankind ; 2. That it is according to
the analogy of the divine procedure in the whole government
of this world ; and 3. That it is of great practical value to us,
and altogether worthy of God.
1. The holiness here ascribed to the family of a believing
parent has been often called federal or covenant holiness ; and
302 APPENDIX.
the expression provokes contempt in certain quarters. " The
phrase ' federally holy ' is unintelligible, and conveys no idea."
Such is the brief oracular utterance of a popular American
writer (Barnes), whose notes on the different books of the
Bible, however valuable for the literary, historical, geographi-
cal, and antiquarian information they contain, are far from
being safe guides either doctrinally or spiritually ; and whose
shallow criticisms would but ill supplant the sound and mas-
culine theology of the older commentators. " The phrase," he
says flippantly, " the phrase ' federally holy ' is unintelligible,
and conveys no idea." The remark is the result of ignorance.
If, indeed, holiness here means personal purity and likeness to
God, — piety, godliness, moral goodness ; — if it expresses a
quality or attribute of personal character ; — then, undoubtedly,
to speak of any one being " federally holy " — holy in respect
of a covenant standing or relation, — while not personally a
sanctified believer, — would be not merely unintelligible, but
wicked, — not merely absurd, but profane. But it is notorious,
every scholar knows, that that is not the meaning of the words
" sanctify " and " holy " in this passage. The objectors them-
selves do not and cannot put that meaning on these words ;
and they know that it is not the meaning which sound divines
and competent critics attach to them. In fact, the original
term here rendered "holy," — with the verb from it, to
" sanctify," or " make holy," — rarely, if ever, does, either in the
Old Testament " or in the New, denote personal character. It
does not necessarily imply any inward goodness or good quality
at all. It is commonly used simply as a term of outward rela-
* I mean, of course, the corresponding word in Hebrew to the Greek
word here. For there are two words in Hebrew, and two corresponding
words in Greek, both translated holy in one English version ; but never
confounded in the original languages. The one refers to personal character,
inferring piety and love ; the other denotes consecration or setting apart
for a sacred use, and is applied to things as well as persons. It is the
latter that, with its cognate verb, is employed here.
SUPPLEMENT TO XXL VOLUME FIRST. 3G3
tionsliip ; denoting the use, destination, office, or official character
of a person or thing ; — having reference to the light in which
God may be pleased to regard any one, — the treatment which
God may bestow upon him, — the footing on which God may
place him ; — and not to what he really and personally is.
Thus viewed, the idea is surely simple enough. Take two
familiar illustrations : —
(1.) I have occasion to deal w^ith some one among you in
a matter that brings us into the closest terms of mutual friend-
ship and partnership with one another. Strictly speaking, it
is entirely and exclusively a personal matter between you and
me as individuals. But when the negotiation is completed,
the compact sealed, and the league between us personally
fairly established, somewhat of the effect or influence of the
transaction reaches beyond you, as an individual, to those con-
nected with you. Your family and jonr friends, though they
may be far from being on the same terms with me individually
as you yourself are, — nay, though they may continue strangers
or even enemies, — are yet, somehow, different, as to my esteem
of them, from what they w^ere before ; — and partly, at least,
share in the interest with which I consider you.
(2.) When Joseph presented his aged father and his brethren
to Pharaoh, the king did not treat them as common persons,
— far less did he regard them as unclean, although Hebrew
shepherds were apt to be an abomination to Egyptians. In
themselves Jacob and his sons were nothing to Pharaoh. They
had no claim upon his notice ; and there was no reason why
they should find any especial favour in his sight. But, as be-
longing to Joseph, whom he so warmly esteemed, and so
eagerly delighted to honour, — they became at once the ob-
jects of the king's liveliest sympathy; — and were admitted by
him to a standing to wdiich they could never otherwise have
attained.
Is there anything unreasonable in such a mode of pro-
cedure? Or can any cause be shown why God may not
364 APPENDIX.
formally and systematically adopt it, in his dealings with the
families of those whom he counts his own 1
2. On the contrary, the analogy of providence and grace
creates a probability on the other side. I do not now refer to
the two great economies, or covenants, — that of works, and that
of redemption or salvation, — in the one of which God deals
with the whole family of mankind as represented by the first
Adam, while in the other, he constitutes the second Adam, the
Lord from heaven, the representative and surety of all the
elect. The principle of both of these dispensations alike, under
which paradise is forfeited and is regained, — man is lost and
is found, — aff'ords a presumption in favour of the arrangement
now in Cjuestion. But apart from that, it clearly appears to be
a principle of the di^dne plan of government generally, — that
individuals grouped together in organised bodies or com-
munities should have a sort of reflex or imputed character in
the sight of God, — borrowed from the character or profession
of their natural or their constituted federal heads. Thus God
had a special favour for all who were related to Abraham, even
after the lapse of ages, and in a remote line of descent ; not
regarding them as standing in the same position with the
general mass of men, but reckoning himself to have peculiar
claims upon them, — and them also to have ^^eculiar claims
on him, — in res^^ect of the place Abraham held in his esteem
(2 Chron. xx. 7 ; Ps. cv. 6, 9, 42 ; Is. li. 2). No doubt the
seed of Abraham, spiritually understood, is Christ, and be-
lievers viewed as one with Christ (Gal. iii. 16). But the
literal offspring of Abraham were, and are, clearly accounted
by God to be peculiarly his own, for Abraham's sake. And
the very circumstance of Christ and his Church being repre-
sented so emphatically as Abraham's seed, proves the jDrinciple
for which we are contending. It shows a desire in the divine
mind to place even the bestowal of his saving grace and sa\dng
gifts upon the footing of the family relationship and the kind-
ness which he bears to the family-head.
SUPPLEMENT TO XXI. VOLUME FIRST. 365
The same remarks will apply to the light in which God
viewed those who could claim kindred with Jacob, as well as
those of the house and lineage of David (Jer. xxxiii. 26). And
subordinate instances might be quoted, such as that perhaps of
the Rechabites (Jer. xxxv.) ; where the whole spirit of the
incident is lost, if we do not consider it as an example of a
family covenant, connected with a family blessing. Jonadab
the son of Rechab acted plainly as the head of a house. As
such he was owned by God, and all his house in him. And
the special praise of his posterity is that they recognised and
realised that fact.
Let it be observed here, in the first place, that we speak
merely of the general principle of the divine procedure, and
not of its particular application. The general principle is that
when God chooses any one, and admits him into a relation of
friendship with himself, he delights to extend to others con-
nected with the chosen one, and does extend to them, merely
because they are so connected, a certain participation in the
benefit. Wliether it may be temporal or spiritual blessings
that are more immediately involved, is not at present material,
and does not effect the analogy. It is enough to have shown,
that when God admits the head of a household, or race, into a
relation of holiness, or devotedness, or consecration to himself,
— it is his method, his way, his rule, to extend that relation
beyond the individual, so as to comprehend those belonging to
him, and in some distinct sense, naturally, or by appointment,
represented by him. Again, secondly, let it be noted that
the principle is not made void by the fact that in spite of all
this, j those who are thus graciously treated and accounted
virtually holy, never actually become in their own persons
holy. It is the worse for them : their guilt is aggravated, and
the severity of their doom enhanced. But their unbelief does
not make void the faithfulness of God, or prove that he did
not admit them into a relation of covenant-nearness to himself,
for their father's sake j — a relation carrying with it precious
366 APPENDIX.
advantages and opportunities, — signal means and pledges of
grace ; — and involving, in proportion, all the heavier re-
sponsibilities.
If it be asked what we can bring forward out of the New
Testament as favouring this view of the analogy of God's
dealing with men 1 — I simply point, to the numerous
instances in the early church of the conversion and baptism
of whole households, along with their respective heads (such
as John iv. 53 ; Acts x\d. 34, xviii. 8 ; 1 Cor. i. 16), — together
with the allusions in the messages at the end of the epistles
to household churches (Rom. xvi.) I raise no question here
directly as to the administration of ordinances. But I own it
does appear to me impossible to explain these intimations of
entire families becoming Christian all at once, and households
becoming in a sense Christian churches, — without having
recourse to the principle, — that the heads, one or both, often
acted in name of the family ; and that, in so doing, they were
accepted and approved ; and the family, in them, was accounted
no more common or unclean, but holy. And let it be remem-
bered that these are not exceptional cases. They are the
ordinary and current sort of specimens, left on record, of the
way in which Christianity at first grew and established itself
On the whole, I can see nothing contrary to the analogy of
God's ways on earth, in the arrangement according to which,
for the sake of a believing parent or head, he regards the
whole household as brought into a peculiar relation of federal
holiness to himself; — taken out of the common class, or
category, of ungodly families in the world ; — and invested, at
least in some sense and to some effects, with a sacred character
in his eyes.
3. I say to some effects. For it is not a mere nominal or
ideal character of holiness that is ascribed to the family of a
believing head ; but one that is at least in some sense, and
to some effects, real. No doubt it is a sort of virtual or repre-
sentative holiness that the household are described, in this text,
SUPPLEMENT TO XXI. VOLUME FIRST. 3G7
as possessing, and not a personal holiness : for it is assumed
that the husband or wife referred to is still an iinheliever ; and
probably the children too. But the distinction here recognised
between holy and unclean is not on that account either un-
meaning or unimportant.
To come to the point at once ; the essential question in
the whole discussion is substantially this, — Does the covenant
of grace, as administered on earth, embrace any but actual
believers '? Have any others an interest in it '? Are any others
within its pale 1
I speak of the covenant as administered upon earth. For
of course, as regards the counsels of heaven, it comprehends,
not merely all who at any given moment are actually be-
lievers, but all the elect who ever have believed, or ever are
to believe, to the end of time ; and it excludes all else.
But as regards its administration on earth, by the word
and Spirit of God, and by ordinances and fellowship, — it is
certainly, in one view, less comprehensive, for it takes in only
a portion of those who are to be saved. May it not, in
another view, be more comprehensive, taking in others
besides the actually saved ? It is true, none such can be
comprehended in it, so as to have a saving interest in its
benefits. In that sense, none but the elect can be embraced
in it. But does it follow that there can be no sense in which
others may be within it] May not God impose covenant-
obligations on others besides believers ? — obligations super-
adding to all the other grounds on which unbelief is a sin,
the peculiar and heavy aggravation of its being a breach of
covenant 1 May he not, indeed, make this very arrangement,
when realised in the case of the elect themselves, one of the
means of conversion, and one of the motives of faith 1 May
He not give covenant privileges, promises, and pledges, to
others besides believers, — such as, upon covenant-principles,
afford facilities and encouragements to believe 1 May He not
accept a covenant-profession of penitence and faith, — so far at
368 APPENDIX.
least as to take it, if we may so speak, in good part, — make
it the occasion of suspending his judgments, in the exercise of
his forbearance, — and even perhaps turn it into the commence-
ment of a gracious and saving work in the soul 1 In all these
respects, — in respect of covenant-obligations imposed, —
covenant-pri\41eges, promises, and j)ledges bestowed, — and
covenant-professions owned, — God may surely admit others
besides believers to an interest in his covenant as adminis-
tered on earth, and recognise them as standing in a covenant
relation to himself.
Is it asked what we mean by the word covenant, as used
in this connection ? In reply, let us bear in mind that the
covenant of grace is not a voluntary compact or agreement
between God and us, implying or requiring the consent of
parties. It may be so between God and his eternal Son, or
in the councils of the Godhead, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
But in its relation to us, it is simply the solemn act of God,
binding himself to us, and binding us to himself. Doubt-
less, in order to our having a saving interest in it, consent,
concurrence, acquiescence, or in one word, obedience, is in-
dispensable. But it does not follow that this is necessary in
order to our having any interest at all, of any sort, in it.
God himself, at his own hand, as it were, and by his own
mere act or arrangement, may give us an interest in it, and
regard us and deal with us as having an interest in it ; —
a real interest too, as we may ere long find, — to our profit
or to our cost ; — to our profit, if, owning our covenant
relation, and feeling it, we lament our guilt, and cry for
mercy, with a full and vivid apprehension of the extent of
our responsibilities, and the faithfulness of God's pledges ;
to our cost, if — imagining ourselves to be at liberty to
consult our own discretion, apart from divinely imposed and
divinely sealed and sanctioned vows — we trifle with the
overtures of the blessed Gospel ; — dealing with them as if
we were free to dispose of them as we think fit j^until we
SUPPLEMENT TO XXL VOLUME FIRST. 369
come to " count the blood of the covenant wherewith we were
sanctified an unholy being, and do despite to the Spirit of all
grace."
I have done little, or rather nothing more than attempt a
statement of the point at issue. To argue it out is more
than it would be fitting in this place to undertake. There are
two questions, however, which, before passing on to the appli-
cation of the subject, I may briefly suggest.
I. Has the covenant of grace ever been administered on
earth without such a margin as we plead for? Has the
church of God ever existed in the world otherwise than as
the kernel of a nut ? Has God ever constituted a society of
real believers, really and savingly in covenant with himself,
otherwise than as they might be contained within a wider
body ; — which also he condescends to acknowledge, as in a
certain covenant relation to himself? Assuredly, before the
coming of Christ, nothing of the sort appeared among men.
It is on all hands confessed that during all the period inter-
vening between the fall and the Christian era the true people
of God, the really saved, were hidden and almost lost, in the
far larger and miscellaneous community, in which alone,
however, and as a part of it, they had any place and standing.
In other words, they actually were what the general mass to
which they belonged should have been ; — were accounted, and
were bound to be. In point of real attainment, they were
what the society and all its members were in point of
obligation, privilege, and profession. This was the state of
matters when the church in covenant with God was to l:)e
found in the Jewish nation ; co-extensive with that nation in
one view ; — but alas ! far more restricted in another.
Is there any proof, or even presumption, that all this is
changed under the New Testament form of the dispensation '?
The covenant is the same ; its obligations, pledges, and j^ro-
VOL. 11. 2 B
o i 0 APPENDIX.
fessions are in substcance the same. True, the Jevvish nation
as %such is no longer the shell or husk containing the kernel.
But as of old, in Mesopotamia, the work began with the call
of Abraham, — went on to the recognition of his household in
him, — and issued in the setting apart of the nation springing
out of his loins ; — so, in gospel times, individuals again were
called ; — but not merely as individuals. Their families were
consecrated in them, and along with them. And not families
only, but communities, churches, and nations also, are recog-
nised as capable of sustaining a high and holy relation to
God ; — exactly as the church and nation of Israel did of old.
In fact, no one can read the Acts and the Apostolic Epistles
without perceiving that from the very first societies were
formed, capable of being collectively addressed as in a covenant
relation of holiness to the Lord ; — while yet only a portion
were personally believers, or personally holy. We conclude,
therefore, that the church has never existed upon earth other-
wise than as a centre or nucleus of real holiness, found within
the circumference of a body virtually or federally holy.
II. Our second question is, Can the covenant of grace be
administered otherwise on the earth ? — at least so long as the
earth shall continue to be a scene of trial and probation 1 God,
if we may so speak, by a wide cast of the net, brings men, —
not as individuals merely, but in families and communities, —
into a certain covenant relation to himself ; in respect of which
they are brought under the responsibilities, and partake of the
influences, of the kingdom of Heaven. For the ordinary means
of grace, let it be remembered, and the common ojoerations of
the Spirit, are covenant-blessings, enjoyed upon the footing of a
covenant-obligation to improve them. Thus God engages and
binds men, in families and communities, as well as individually,
to the acceptance of his ofiTered mercy, through the obedience of
the faith ; and calls them, in the way of gospel ordinances, to
seek and to secure the great salvation. He puts them to the
SUPPLEMENT TO XXL VOLUME FIRST. 371
proof ; he places them under training, discipline, and trial ;
that they may be tested as to what manner of spirit they are
of; that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed. To
some extent this is done by the mere preaching of the gospel,
for the first time, among any people, and the call to individual
sinners to repent. But as Christianity takes root, and new
generations rise up under the light of the gospel, it would
seem to be essential to the great exj^eriment which God is
carrying on, — that he should deal with families and com-
munities of men as such ; — reckoning them, by a gracious and
liberal construction of what is professed on their behalf, to be
^vithin the range of his holy covenant ; — viewing them as
represented in their believing head ; — and on that ground,
treating them as already his, — as separate and holy unto him-
self,— and so treating them, as such, that they may become
really what die wishes them to be ; — or if not, may be the
more absolutely without excuse. It is as if a king should say
of a family, or city, whose heads and representatives are loyal,
I accept your family, — your people, — in you. So far, I take
their loyalty for granted, — that in you, on your account, and
for your sake, I will treat them as if they already were, or
would immediately become, themselves loyal. Virtually they
shall be loyal, in my esteem of them ; as such they shall be
admitted to much of my confidence, and many — nay, if they
will, all, — of the benefits of my reign. And as such, moreover,
they shall be ultimately accountable to me. I give them thus
a fair opening and start. I place them in the most advan-
tageous position for being faithful and happy subjects. I put
them upon honour. I pledge myself to them, and I pledge
them to myself. And if, after all, they turn out rebellious, —
theirs is not the guilt of ordinary rebellion, but guilt aggravated,
on their part, by the breach of my covenant with them.
The principle I have been endeavouring to explain is one
0 / -l APPENDIX.
;of deep significaiicy and wide a2)plication ; — affecting, as it does,
not only the whole character and constitution of the Church,
as visible here below ; — but the warrant and nature of all
domestic, social, and national religion. If that principle, or
something equivalent to it, be not admitted, there may be
individual believers associating, more or less formally, with
one another ; but there can scarcely be such an idea as that
of a Christian community, a Christian family, or a Christian
nation. I cannot, however, dwell upon these larger ^dews.
1 close v\^ith two brief practical remarks.
1. Am I the believing head of a family, or one of its
heads % Let me see in what position, through the gracious
condescension of God, my faith places the household. It
takes it out of the class of common households, and brings it
into an interesting and affecting relation to the Lord. He is
2)leased to look upon it as in me, and for my sake, invested
with a certain character of holiness in his sight. Surely this
consideration should not only reconcile me to the continued
obligation of all my family ties and duties ; it should do
more. It should give me great freedom, encouragement, and
enlargement, in pleading with God on behalf of all my
household, and pleading with them on God's behalf. And it
should fill me with a very profound apprehension of the
enhanced responsibility lying upon them all ; — the more espe-
cially since, according to God's sovereign ordinance, that
enhanced responsibility is entailed on them through me.
How very solemn and awful, in this view of it, is the rela-
tion of the holy belie\dng head of a family to all the members
of it ! Do I believe that, not merely myself, but my house-
hold with me, are in a covenant relation to God ; — in so far,
at least, as covenant obligations, privileges, and professions are
concerned'? Have I avowed and acted on that belief, by
applying for baptism, the initial seal of the covenant, for my
children] How holy, then, should they be in my esteem!
SUPrLEMENT TO XXI. VOLUME FIRST. 373
how sacred ! \Yitli what reverence should I treat them ! —
with what scrupulous atid trembling care to keep them from
all pollution ; with w^iat watchful anxiety to have them
washed and sanctified and justified, in the name of the Lord
Jesus, and by the Sj^irit of our God ! Strange that such a
doctrine as this should be represented in any quarter as having
a tendency to relax parental diligence, and minister to carnal
security and sloth!
2. Are you the members of a family that is blessed in
having a believing head 1 Are you the children of Christian
parents 1 As such, have you been acknowledged by the Church
on earth, and sealed by God himself, in the sacrament of
baptism 1 Consider, how solemnly you are pledged and en-
gaged to be the Lord's ! But you may say that you are not
bound by a transaction to which you did not give your consent.
It is unreasonable, as well as unscriptural, to say so.
You are bound in many ways, and to many duties, without
your own consent. As children, you are bound to your parents ;
— as citizens, to your country ; — without your previous concur-
rence asked or obtained. God binds you, and he has a right to
bind you. And so, in like manner, he binds you as members
of a Christian family. Solemnly, and in covenant, he binds
you to himself. Does this offend you? Consider, on the
other hand, that he also, and in like manner, graciously binds
liimself to you. If you are under covenant obligations, you
have also covenant promises and privileges and pledges.
Ah, my young friends ! your birth in a Christian land ;
your baptism in a Christian church; your pure and happy
home in the bosom of a Christian family, — with a godly father
to teach you, and a godly mother to watch over you, — and
both together to pray for you and to pray with you ; — these
things are, none of them, either accidental or insignificant.
They bespeak a gracious purpose — they have all a gracious
meaning. True, they will not of themselves avail to save you.
374 APPENDIX.
But they do much to put you in the way of salvation. And
who can tell how terribly they will aggravate your inexcusable
guilt and your inevitable condemnation, — if, under all the
sacred influences, and all the sacred pledges, involved in your
connection with a Christian land, a Christian church, a Chris-
tian family, you continue still unsanctified and unsaved !
THE END.
Printed by R. Clark, Edinburgh.
WORKS
BY
EGBERT S. CANDLISH, D.D.,
PRINCIPAL OF THE NEW COLLEGE, AND MINISTER OF FREE ST. GEORGE's
CHURCH, EDINP.URGH.
I.
Ill One Volume, 8vo, doth, 2jrice 1 2^.
The First Epistle of John
EXPOUNDED IN
A SEEIES OF LECTURES.
CONTENTS.
PART FIRST. — FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD IN LIGHT.
I. The Apostles' Doctrine and Fellowship.
II. The Joy of the Lord.
III. The Divine Fellowship a Fellowship of Light.
lY. The Guileless Spirit.
V. The Sinless Aim : Provision for Shortcoming.
VI. The iSTature and Ground of Christ's Advocacy.
VII. Indwelling in God in Knowledge and Love.
VIII. The Walk of One Abiding in God.
IX. The Darkness Passing : The True Light Shining,
X. Brotherhood a Test of being in the Light.
XL The Childhood, Fatherhood, and Youth of Believers.
XII. Love of the World : Love of the Father.
XIII. The World Passing : The Godly Man Abiding.
XIV. The Unction from the Holy One giving KnoAvledge.
[Otrr.
2 DR. CANDLISH ON JOHN.
XV. Test of Antichrist : Denial of tlie Son.
XVI. Abiding in the Son and in the Father.
PAKT SECOND. — FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD IN RIGHTEOUSNESS AND
RIGHTEOUS LOVE.
XVII. Abiding in Christ : Having confidence at his Coming.
XVIII. Eigliteousness the Test of being Born of God.
XIX. The Divine Birth : The Family Likeness.
XX. Hope in God purifying according to His Law.
XXI. Abiding in the Sinless One so as not to sin.
XXII. The Secret of Xot Sinning : Of Impeccability.
XXIII. The Connection betAveen Doing and Being.
XXIV. Brotherly Love the Test of Divine Parentage.
XXV. The World's Murderous Hate. God's Self-sacrificing Love.
XXVI. The Answer of a Good Conscience towards Ourselves and God.
XXVII. How we please God, and He heareth Us.
XXVIII. We dwell in God by Obedience, He in Us by the Spirit.
XXIX. The Spirit confessing in Us Jesus Christ come in the Flesh.
XXX. Christian Faith overcoming Antichiistian Falsehood.
XXXI. Love is of God. God is Love.
XXXII. Love going forth towards what is seen.
XXXIII. Love the means of the Mutual Indwelling of God and U.';.
XXXIV. The Boldness of Perfected Love.
XXXV. Connection of Brotherly Love and Godliness.
PART THIRD. —FELLOWSHIP WITH GOD IN LIGHT: — RIGHTEOUSNESS AND
LOVE TRIUMPHANT OVER THE WORLD AND ITS PRINCE.
XXXVI. God's Commandments not Grievous.
XXXVII. The Victory of Faith overcoming the World.
XXXVIII. The Three Witnesses, and their Agreement.
XXXIX. The Witness of God in Believers themselves.
XL. Eternal Life God's Gift in His Son.
XLI. Having Eternal Life. Confidence in Prayer.
XLII. Prayer for a Brother's Sin, but not for a Sin unto Death.
XLIII. The Believer as born of God keeping Himself. ^
XLIV. The World lying in the Wicked One.
XLV. KnoAving the True One and being in Him.
XLVI. Jesus the True God and Eternal Life against all Idols.
Date Due
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