Abraham's Departure from Chaldea--His Faith--Its Failure--Sarah and
Abraham agree to prevaricate--The Admiration which Sarah
attracted--Abraham's Dismissal from the country of Egypt--Beauty and
Dress--Importance of a proper Education--Parental Vanity--Source of real
Attraction--Sarah proposes to Abraham to take Hagar--Unhappy
Consequences--Hagar's Flight and Return--Visit of three Angels--Sarah's
laughter at the subject of their commission--Her subsequent
Character--General Remarks--Birth of Isaac--Ishmael's Conduct and its
Consequences--Sarah's Death.
[Sidenote: Years before Christ, about 1920-1921.]
At a very advanced period of life, and in obedience to a divine
injunction, Abraham went out from his country and his father's house, "not
knowing whither he went." By this cheerful, prompt, and pious submission
to the mysterious will of Heaven, he has acquired a high distinction in
the sacred records, and presents a noble example for the imitation of all
future ages. Here was no debate between a sense of duty and an inclination
to sin--no disposition to question the wisdom or the goodness of the
command--no effort to devise expedients for the purpose of procuring
delay--and no unholy apprehensions respecting the possible or probable
consequences of such a proceeding.
In this removal from Chaldea, the illustrious exile took with him his
wife, his nephew, "and all their substance that they had gathered, and the
souls that they had gotten in Haran." Upon their arrival in Canaan, the
divine declaration respecting his future possession of the country was
renewed, and he erected an altar to the Lord in the plain of Moreh. The
same act of devotion was performed at the next stage of his journey, on a
mountain to the east of Bethel; for no change of place could obliterate
his sense of religious obligation.
This land of promise was soon afflicted with a grievous famine, in
consequence of which, he was necessitated to provide for the subsistence
of his family by removing into Egypt. This was a new trial to his faith;
for by what possible means could a land at present so impoverished, become
a place of plentiful subsistence to his posterity, when multiplied as the
sands upon the sea-shore? Driven even from this promised inheritance, he
did not, however, manifest a spirit of discontent or unbelief, but
hastened to seek a temporary asylum, convinced that he to whose guidance
he had committed himself and his beloved family, could, by the
outstretched arm of his power, not only overcome every obstacle which to
human ignorance might seem insurmountable; but by his concurrent wisdom
render difficulties themselves subservient to the accomplishment of
his purposes.
Alas! on his entering Egypt he is seized with apprehension. The faith
which had hitherto been so conspicuous is mingled with distrust, and he
engages his beloved SARAH, who is now introduced to our notice, in an act
of most unwarrantable duplicity. The whole of this transaction is detailed
with that perfect impartiality which characterizes the histories of the
Scriptures, and which furnishes one very decisive evidence of their
inspiration.
Sarah is represented as very beautiful. Her husband was aware that this
circumstance would attract the notice of the Egyptians, not only because
of the contrast her person would exhibit to the swarthy complexions of
their women, but on account of their licentious character. He dreaded
their illicit attachment, and the probable consequence that they might
assassinate him in order to obtain his wife. This idea of Egyptian morals
was no doubt correct, but how deplorable! They would not commit adultery;
but for the sake of gratifying a guilty passion, were ready to perpetrate
the abominable sin of murder! And thus, under the strange pretence of
reverence for the matrimonial law, they would have violated at once the
dictates of humanity, the principles of reason, and the constitutions of
heaven. So common is it for transgressors to "strain at a knat and swallow
a camel;" and so uniform the course of guilt, which never walks alone, but
draws with it a train of complicated iniquities!
The preliminaries being settled, Abraham and his family entered Egypt. She
was to say, when any inquiries were made, that she was his _sister_,
hoping by this artifice to escape danger. This, it must be observed, was
not a _direct_ falsehood: it was such only by _implication_. It was true
that, according to the Jewish mode of reckoning, Sarah was the _sister_ of
Abraham; but their intention in circulating this statement was, to conceal
the whole truth of her being his _wife_. Notwithstanding the ingenuity
which some learned men have displayed in attempting to vindicate this
conduct, we must without hesitation pronounce it base, mean, and
prevaricating. The purpose was to deceive, and it was the more censurable
for being so deliberately premeditated and so perseveringly practised.
There are cases in which persons have been overtaken in a fault, impelled
by some momentary passion, excited by some brilliant temptation, or
betrayed by some unexpected coincidence of circumstances, and of which
they have deeply and almost immediately repented--a situation which
cannot but excite our pity, as well as our disapprobation; but this was a
transaction which it is impossible either to extenuate or justify. Let it
be improved as a motive for self-examination, and a beacon to warn us from
similar misconduct. "O keep my soul, and deliver me: let me not be
ashamed, for I put my trust in thee. Let INTEGRITY and UPRIGHTNESS
preserve me, for I wait on thee."
Prevarication of every kind partakes of the very essence of lying, being
not only subversive of social happiness, by preventing all confidential
intercourse amongst mankind, but diametrically opposed to the commands of
God. Every species of wilful deceit, as the use of ambiguities in language
for the purpose of misleading; the adoption of expressions which we know
to be understood by another in a different sense from what we really mean;
mental reservations; a studied suppression of part of the truth, as in the
present example, is unworthy the character of any person who professes to
be an honest man, much more of one who sustains the dignified character of
a Christian. "Wherefore, putting away lying, speak every man truth with
his neighbour."
In theory, it seems an easy thing to adhere to truth; but it is too
frequently found difficult in practice. When motives of interest are
balanced against motives of duty, it is well if the former do not
sometimes preponderate. Are we always careful to state facts _exactly_ as
they exist; to avoid all false colouring; to swear even to our own hurt?
If so, we need not fear investigation, because nothing can be detected but
an honourable, undissembled mind.
When Adam disobeyed the divine commandment, and in consequence forfeited
the bliss of primeval paradise, he was seduced by his fair partner, who
had already listened to the wily suggestions of the serpent; but Abraham,
so far from being tempted by his wife, appears to have been the sole
contriver of this disingenuous artifice, and employed all his influence to
induce her to transgress. In following him from his original residence
into Canaan, and subsequently to Egypt, she obeyed the dictates of
affection and of religion; but when she suffered herself to be persuaded
into a deceitful action, she sacrificed the purity of her conscience. It
became her, however painful the conflict, to resist the temptation; and,
when the claims of heaven were opposed to those of affection or human
authority, to obey God rather than man. It appears that we are not only in
danger of being misled by those who are our avowed enemies, or by the
pernicious example of the multitude who do evil, but the nearest and
dearest relatives may become snares to our feet; and even those, in whose
piety and wisdom we should naturally confide, may, under the influence of
temporary delusion, incite us to do wrong. Our affections must not be
implicitly trusted. There is a point where submission to man becomes
treason against heaven. It were better to incur the displeasure even of
the dearest friend and tenderest relative, than of Him who possesses
supreme authority over conscience.
At the same time, let a woman, who thus ventures to disobey her husband,
do it with that caution which results solely from a conviction of
paramount duty, and from a well founded assurance that she is not
mistaken. It is no trifling occasion that will justify opposition to the
will of him whom she is commanded to obey; and if it be done in a proper
spirit, it will be done with a degree of reluctance, and under an
overwhelming sense of necessity. Let the spirit of meekness be prevalent.
Nothing in the _manner_, in which unwelcome opposition is maintained, must
indicate a proud resistance, or an air of triumph. It must not be
litigious, petulant, unconciliating; but the importance of those
principles which occasion the difference, must be apparent in the temper
of mind they produce. Thus, it will be possible to maintain the rights of
conscience, and not to violate the claims of duty: the integrity of the
heart will be indicated, not by words only, but by actions.--It is natural
to feel indignant against a conduct which we suspect to proceed from
improper motives, and a hostile spirit; but we extenuate even the mistakes
of those who differ most widely from ourselves, provided we have
sufficient evidence that their scruples result from conscientious
feelings. While, therefore, in our differences from others, we are careful
not to be actuated by mere frivolous pretences, we must be equally
solicitous not to be deterred from showing a firm consistence of conduct,
lest we should incur the charge of an affected singularity.
The fact was such as Abraham had anticipated. Sarah was the object of
universal admiration. She attracted the attention even of Pharaoh's
courtiers, who, with the view of pleasing their master, recommended her to
the king. Supposing she had been the stranger's sister, she was taken into
his house. Alas! what availed all this timid policy! The very means which
had been devised for the preservation of Sarah from Egyptian
licentiousness, nearly exposed her to all its dreaded consequences; and
Abraham was duped by his own craftiness. His wife was endangered, his
artifice detected, and the household of Pharaoh visited with divine
chastisements on her account. And, in addition to the pain which both he
and his beloved partner must have felt, from the consciousness of having
acted wrong, they were dismissed from the country. "And Pharaoh called
Abraham, and said, What is this that thou hast done unto me? Why didst
thou not tell me that she was thy wife? Why saidst thou, She is my sister?
So I might have taken her to me to wife: now, therefore, behold thy wife,
take her and go thy way. And Pharaoh commanded his men concerning him; and
they sent him away, and his wife, and all that he had."
The _beauty_ of Sarah was obviously the occasion of her committing, in
concert with her husband, the sin of equivocation, and of the misfortunes
which attended their Egyptian journey. If she had not been distinguished
for a fair exterior, she would have escaped the admiration of these
strangers, and the difficulties which she and Abraham afterwards
encountered. Solomon pronounces beauty to be vain; and the history of the
world will show, that, in innumerable instances, as well as that of Sarah,
it has betrayed its fair possessor into many snares. Experience, however,
in this respect, does not seem to teach wisdom; for the wish to acquire
the attraction which beauty confers, seems to be no less prevalent in the
present age, than it was at the earliest period of the world. How many
hours of the day, and how many days of the wasted year, do some females
devote to the improvement of their persons! Impossible as it has ever
been, and ever will be found, to make one hair black or white, to add one
cubit to the stature, to bend one untractable feature into the admired
curve to which common consent attributes grace and loveliness; the
impossible transformation is nevertheless attempted. The treasures of
opulence are exhausted; the more valuable possession of health is often
sacrificed at the shrine of vanity: and while the noble distinctions of
cultivated intellect and solid piety are neglected, the ostentatious
decoration of exterior polish is sought with useless and guilty avidity.
The most effectual means of correcting this error, is in early life to
commence the important business of moral discipline by a solid education.
If a greater degree of attention be paid to showy, than to substantial
acquirements; if young ladies be systematically prepared to shine and
attract, instead of being assiduously formed to be useful in the stations
to which Providence has assigned them; it may be expected that they should
become solicitous of courting admiration, rather than of winning esteem.
They will necessarily be unfitted for domestic management, and
disqualified for the sober realities of life. If the matrimonial connexion
be founded upon no better pretensions, and no superior reasons for
attachment, it is incapable of securing solid happiness. It is, in fact,
at the mercy of every breeze. The wind of adversity may blow upon the fair
flower, wither its exterior charms, and leave nothing but prickles and
thorns. A consciousness of insignificance on the one hand, and a
perception of it on the other, will produce disappointment, and generate
dissatisfaction; and it will be found, too late perhaps, that the _mind_,
instead of the _face_, ought to have been principally regarded.
There is a species of parental vanity against which we would loudly
appeal. Some persons are extremely anxious that their daughters should
possess all the attractions of beauty; and from their earliest infancy, a
concern for appearances is instilled into them, as of the first
importance. If young persons, so unhappily circumstanced, should receive a
wrong bias, we cannot feel surprised; and it will require a long course of
salutary discipline, combined with the inculcation of religious
principles, effectually to teach them that to see, and to be seen, are not
the great purposes of human existence; that they must live for nobler
ends, and secure the approbation of the wise and good by other
accomplishments than a taste for the arrangement of a ribbon, or the
harmony of a tune. Unless they should be unfortunate enough to meet with
none but flippant and vacant admirers, to whose flattering nothings they
are induced to listen, they will find, that persons of real worth are not
to be attracted by tinsel decorations, nor a butterfly exterior, but that
"Man has a relish more refined;"
and will rather breathe the following sentiments, as the appropriate
language of a noble enthusiasm, connected with rationality and religion;
"Souls are for social bliss designed--
Give me a blessing fit to match my mind;
A kindred soul to double and to share my joys."
That which constitutes the source of attraction to well regulated minds,
does not depend upon the disposition of the features, nor the colour of
the skin. It is possible to every kind of exterior form. "This beauty," it
has been well observed, "does not always consist in smiles, but varies as
expressions of meekness and kindness vary with their objects: it is
extremely forcible in the silent complaint of patient sufferance, the
tender solicitude of friendship, and the glow of filial obedience; and in
tears, whether of joy, of pity, or of grief, it is almost irresistible.
"This is the charm which captivates without the aid of nature, and without
which her utmost bounty is ineffectual. But it cannot be assumed as a mask
to conceal insensibility or malevolence: it must be the effect of
corresponding sentiments, or it will impress upon the countenance a new
and more disgusting deformity--AFFECTATION. Looks, which do not correspond
with the heart, cannot be assumed without labour, nor continued without
pain: the motive to relinquish them must, therefore, soon preponderate,
and the aspect and apparel of the visit will be laid by together: the
smiles and the languishments of art will vanish, and the fierceness of
rage, or the gloom of discontent, will either obscure or destroy all the
elegance of symmetry and complexion.
"The artificial aspect is, indeed, as wretched a substitute for the
expression of sentiment, as the smear of paint for the blushes of health:
it is not only equally transient, and equally liable to detection; but, as
paint leaves the countenance yet more withered and ghastly, the passions
burst out with more violence after restraint, the features become more
distorted, and excite more determined aversion.
"Beauty, therefore, depends principally upon the mind, and consequently
may be influenced by education. It has been remarked, that the predominent
passion may generally be discovered in the countenance; because the
muscles by which it is expressed, being almost perpetually contracted,
lose their tone, and never totally relax; so that the expression remains
when the passion is suspended: thus, an angry, a disdainful, a subtle, and
a suspicious temper, is displayed in characters that are almost
universally understood. It is equally true of the pleasing and the softer
passions, that they leave their signatures upon the countenance when they
cease to act. The prevalence of these passions, therefore, produces a
mechanical effect upon the aspect, and gives a turn and cast to the
features, which make a more favourable and forcible impression upon the
mind of others, than any charm produced by mere external causes.
"Neither does the beauty which depends upon temper and sentiment, equally
endanger the possessor: it is, to use an eastern metaphor, 'like the
towers of a city--not only an ornament, but a defence:' if it excite
desire, it at once controls and refines it; it represses with awe, it
softens with delicacy, and it wins to imitation. The love of reason and of
virtue is mingled with the love of beauty; because this beauty is little
more than the emanation of intellectual excellence, which is not an object
of corporeal appetite. As it excites a purer passion, it also more
forcibly engages to fidelity: every man finds himself more powerfully
restrained from giving pain to goodness than to beauty; and every look of
a countenance in which they are blended, in which beauty is the expression
of goodness, is a silent reproach to the first irregular wish; and the
purpose immediately appears to be disingenuous and cruel, by which the
tender hope of ineffable affection would be disappointed, the placid
confidence of unsuspecting simplicity abused, and the peace even of virtue
endangered, by the most sordid infidelity, and the breach of the strongest
obligations.
"But the hope of the hypocrite must perish.--When the factitious beauty
has laid by her smiles; when the lustre of her eyes, and the bloom of her
cheeks, have lost their influence with their novelty; what remains, but a
tyrant divested of power, who will never be seen without a mixture of
indignation and disdain? The only desire which this object could gratify,
will be transferred to another, not only without reluctance, but
with triumph.
"Let it, therefore, be remembered, that none can be disciples of the
GRACES, but in the school of VIRTUE; and that those who wish to be
LOVELY, must learn early to be GOOD."
In the next transaction, Sarah appears in a still more unfavourable light
than in the former part of her history. In whatever degree the
circumstances in which she was placed may seem to extenuate the guilt of
her conduct in Egypt, they can no longer be pleaded on her behalf. She is
not now overawed by the authority of her husband, or seduced by an
affection, which would, at all hazards, endeavour to save his valuable
life; but becomes the voluntary tempter to a violation of divine
institutions, by which she not only manifested her unbelief, but
sacrifices to unworthy motives her domestic peace.
Notwithstanding the divine assurance, that the posterity of Abraham should
become a great nation, and possess the land of Canaan, Sarah begins to
think that there is no probability of her becoming a mother. Ten years had
elapsed, and no child was born. Reflecting on her advanced period of life,
and incapable of an implicit reliance upon the power of God, she requested
Abraham to take Hagar, her Egyptian handmaid, in order that she might
obtain children by her. It is scarcely possible to imagine a proposal more
calculated to subvert the comfort of her family, or more illustrative of
an unbelieving spirit. She could not rely upon the slow but certain
operations of a superintending Providence to fulfil those promises which
had been given; although a humble faith would have cherished confidence in
his word. He who has filled the volume of inspiration with "exceeding
great and precious promises," will assuredly accomplish them,
notwithstanding every apparent impediment. Omnipotence marches forward
with a steady, undeviating step, to its predestined purpose; and that
infinite wisdom which originally planned the future, can never be
frustrated or confused by any contingencies or vicissitudes; for no
possible event can occur which was not fully anticipated at the moment
when the promise was given.
Sarah was not only under the influence of distrust, but of inordinate
desire. She was impatient for one of those prime domestic comforts which
it was seen fit at present to deny her; and because the time which had
elapsed, exceeded her calculations of probability, she took upon herself
to devise a plan to hasten the accomplishment of her wishes. Let us beware
of an undue eagerness after the possession of any temporal enjoyment. It
will not only produce distrust, but, probably, precipitate us into
irregular means of gratifying our wishes. "Inordinate desires commonly
produce irregular endeavours. If our wishes be not kept in submission to
God's providence, our pursuits will scarcely be kept under the restraints
of his precepts."
It is truly surprising, that the father of the faithful should listen to
this insinuating request. Possibly he thought that, as Sarah was not
distinctly mentioned in the promise, Hagar might become the parent of the
promised seed; and by this specious pretence, being anxious for a son, he
was induced to comply. We are easily persuaded, when our own inclinations
already concur with a proposal; and even good men are very liable to
misinterpret the intimations of Providence, whenever they consult their
own feelings rather than the word of God.
It is remarked, that "Abraham hearkened to the voice of SARAH." This was
his error. There was another voice he should have heard. If he had any
doubts upon his mind, or any suspicion that his present wife was not the
predestined mother of the numerous posterity that were to people Canaan,
he should at least have betook himself to prayer. In a day of such
remarkable revelations, and in an affair of so much consequence, he might
reasonably have expected an express direction from heaven; and he who had
been already so privileged, ought to have unbosomed his thoughts and
explained his desires to the Lord. Let such as sustain the closest
connexion, beware of becoming snares instead of helps to each other!
Previous to a compliance with any important request that may lead to
considerable consequences, Let us, from whatever quarter it proceed, or
however justifiable it may appear, promptly avail ourselves of that
gracious throne, which is always accessible to the humble petitioner. We
are liable to so many misconceptions, exposed to the influence of so many
prejudices, and subject to the attacks of such a variety of temptations,
that our only security is in the exercise of a devotional spirit, our only
help is in the Lord our God. If any man lack wisdom, let him repair to the
fountain of intelligence, and solicit those supplies from heaven which are
not only freely dispensed, but fully adequate to our diversified
necessities.
The consequence of this unsanctioned proceeding, was precisely what might
have been expected. Elated with the honour of her situation, Sarah is
despised by her Egyptian handmaid. She treats her with contempt and
impertinence, as if she were the peculiar favourite of Heaven, and hoping
no doubt, that the ample promises of God were to be fulfilled by her
means. Knowing what human nature is, we cannot wonder at this disposition,
culpable as it was. Nothing is more common than for persons, when raised
above the meanness of their birth, and the inferiority of their former
circumstances, to be guilty of assuming airs of importance, and to forget
their most obvious duties: and we would caution servants especially
against such unwarrantable conduct. If divine favours should be conferred
upon them; if by the grace of God they should be made partakers of that
spiritual dignity which genuine religion confers, and be thus placed upon
a level with their masters or mistresses in the Christian church, let them
remember that they are not exempted from a civil subserviency. They are by
no means elevated above their natural situation as _servants,_ because
they become _Christians_; but all the peculiar claims of domestic duty
remain. An aspiring, or a haughty spirit, is unbecoming their newly
acquired character, and shows that they have very imperfectly learned of
him who was "meek and lowly of heart." Every person is respectable in his
station, exactly in proportion as it is properly occupied; and real
religion, instead of disqualifying for subordinate situations, is adapted
to produce contentment, and to dictate an exemplary and uniform
correctness of conduct in _whatever_ condition we may be placed by
Providence. "Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters,
according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your
heart, as unto Christ: not with eye-service, as men-pleasers; but as the
servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart; with good will
doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men: knowing that whatsoever
good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord, whether
he be bond or free." "Let as many servants as are under the yoke, count
their own masters worthy of all honour, that the name of God and his
doctrine be not blasphemed. And they that have believing masters, let them
not despise them, because they are brethren; but rather do them service,
because they are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit."
If Hagar behaved with impertinence and vanity, Sarah manifested a very
censurable degree of resentment. Irritated by her handmaid's arrogance,
she appealed to Abraham, protesting that she could not endure such
insolence, and charging him with a secret connivance, if not an
encouragement of her provoking behaviour. Thus we perceive a specimen of
what will generally prove the case in family dissensions--both were in the
wrong. Hagar was aspiring and rude; Sarah passionate and severe. If the
former should have recollected her obligations, the latter ought not to
have forgotten her own foolishness in raising her above her natural level,
and placing her in circumstances of powerful temptation. The one should
have known her place; the other have kept her temper. Let the modern
mistress and servant take a lesson from this unhappy difference. How many
intestine commotions might be prevented, if inferiors would not overstep
the proper limits of their sphere; and if superiors in station would be
conciliating in spirit; "The beginning of strife is as when one letteth
out water; therefore leave off contention before it be meddled with."
Abraham wisely avoided all interference in this affair; and though his
beloved Sarah had appealed to him in very intemperate terms, he gave a
soft answer. "Behold thy maid is in thy hand; do to her as it pleaseth
thee." He refrained from all self-vindication, to which he seemed called
by the violent appeal of his wife; but if he thought proper either to
defend himself, or to remonstrate with her, he chose another occasion.
When the passions are inflamed, the judgment is seldom sufficiently
unbiassed to listen to reason or to consult propriety. It has been
questioned, however, whether in this instance he was not too submissive.
The Egyptian maid seemed entitled to protection; and, instead of yielding
to the rage of Sarah, he should have interposed his _meditation_, and if
necessary, his _authority_, to restore peace.
Incapable of resisting the combined assaults of jealousy, rage, and
revenge, the poor foreigner is driven from the roof of Abraham. She fled
into the wilderness with the view of returning to her native country, but
was suddenly arrested in her flight by an angelic messenger, who
admonished her to return to her mistress, and pacify her by ready and
unconditional submission. He also predicted the character and habits of
her future offspring, mentioning the name by which he was to be called,
and consoling her in this season of tribulation by an assurance that "the
Lord had heard her affliction." She instantly retracted her steps; and, as
no intimation is given to the contrary, we may infer that the fugitive was
restored to her situation in the family. She was humble, and Sarah
conciliated: and as we hear nothing of her for some years, they probably
lived in tolerable harmony. It was a merciful interposition to send her
back to the family of Abraham; for a connexion with the people of God,
whatever may be their faults, is far more desirable than the richest
inheritance, or the noblest alliance, where religion is discarded
or unknown.
[Sidenote: Years before Christ 1898]
As the birth of the Egyptian's son was attended by no divine
congratulations, Abraham is still permitted to pass thirteen years more in
a state of suspense respecting the promised child; when at the age of
ninety-nine, the covenant is renewed by another revelation. On this
remarkable occasion his wife received the name by which we have uniformly
called her, Abraham being distinctly assured of her predestined privilege
as the mother of the promised seed. A similar change of name was conferred
upon the patriarch. Hitherto he had been called _Abram_, a "high," or
"eminent father;" now he is to be _Abraham_, "the father of a great
multitude." His beloved wife, who had been called _Sarai_, "my princess,"
was in future to be distinguished by the name of _Sarah_, "a princess,"
denoting a more extensive honour. If he were to become the _Father_, she
was to be the _Mother_, of "many nations."
Having already witnessed the misconduct of Abraham's wife on two memorable
occasions, it would be highly gratifying to hear, in the next circumstance
of her history, that she acted worthy of her connexion with so illustrious
a husband, But alas! we are still necessitated to derive instruction
rather from a record of her faults than of her excellencies. We must
expect to witness a variety of these in every human character, combined
only with comparatively a small number of shining graces. Indeed we find,
in general, but one very distinguishing good quality associated with those
of a different complexion; and if the plant of grace spring up and grow in
the human character, it is usually in a thicket of inferior principles and
unholy propensities. While, therefore, engaged in the cultivation of our
hearts, in "keeping them with all diligence," as the wise king of Israel
expresses it; one very important duty we owe to ourselves is to watch the
appearance of these irregularities, and aim, by unremitting attention,
united with fervent prayer, to eradicate them from the moral soil. In
Sarah we see as great a luxuriance of evil as can be imagined to blend
with real piety, without essentially deteriorating it.
Sitting one day at the door of his tent to enjoy the refreshing shade,
[8] Abraham observed three strangers approaching, whom he hastened
to meet, that he might offer them any temporary accommodation in his
power. This act of hospitality was conformable to the usage of the
country; but the peculiar generosity of Abraham seems indicated in his
_running_ to meet them. The invitation is immediately accepted; and the
good old man, with the most obliging readiness, offered water to wash
their feet, and bread to satisfy their hunger. He hastened to Sarah,
directing her to make some cakes of fine meal, and bake them on the
hearth; and then went himself to the herd to choose a tender calf, which
he immediately proceeded to dress. Butter and milk, the produce of their
own pasture, were of course supplied. The venerable patriarch then took
his respectful standing under the branches of a neighbouring tree, which
afforded a pleasant screen from the sultry sun. What exquisite simplicity
is discernible here! what a subject for the painter! what a theme for the
poet! what an example for the good! Three heavenly messengers at the
humble table of one of the greatest men that ever inhabited this world--a
patriarch--a prince--the father of the faithful--the friend of
God--venerable for age--distinguished by his hospitality--still more
eminent for faith!--their canopy the overarching sky--their shelter, the
wide-spreading tree--flocks and herds grazing around, the indications of
an industry which Providence had blessed with remarkable success--and the
plain of Mamre spreading its luxuriance before their eyes!--
But we must hasten to the remarkable subject of their conversation. At
present the patriarch did not suspect the real character of his visiters;
who introduced their intended communication by asking, "Where is Sarah thy
wife?" This must have excited great surprise; for how could strangers know
the affairs of his family, and the particular name of his wife, which had
been so recently changed? He informed them, however, that she was in the
tent, where, according to the prevailing custom of the times, she had her
separate table. One of the angels, immediately personating Jehovah
himself, if he were not, as appears probable, the very "Angel of the
Covenant," gave this solemn assurance: "I will certainly return unto thee
according to the time of life; and, lo, Sarah thy wife shall have a son!"
Sarah, whom curiosity had brought to the door of the tent to listen to
what passed, overhearing this assurance, and looking upon it as an
impossible occurrence at her time of life, laughed in derision. She had
long come to the conclusion that she should produce no son to Abraham,
and, therefore, that all such expectations were chimerical and ridiculous.
This excessive incredulity--excessive, because a distinct assurance of the
fact had been already given to Abraham upon the occasion of their change
of names--was highly culpable; but while we denounce it with merited
severity, let us examine our own hearts. Have _we_ never acted in a
similar manner? Have _we_ never distrusted the providence of God or his
promises? Who can plead exemption from a spirit of unbelief? What surmises
have agitated our bosoms, when the events of life contradicted our
expectations? What despondency have we shown, and what distrust, when the
movements Omniscience were incomprehensible to our reason, and opposed to
our apparent interest? If but one part only of the divine proceedings
seemed incongruous, we have dared to arraign "the whole stupendous plan;"
if but "a momentary cloud" arose upon our prospect, we have begun to fancy
that order was at an end, that the sun had for ever disappeared, that God
had "forgotten to be gracious, and in anger shut up his tender mercies."
Let us then aim to correct these irregularities of feeling, and to dismiss
these misinterpretations of providence.
Sarah imagined that her contemptuous incredulity was only known to
herself: but the heavenly visiter instantly detected it, and appealed to
Abraham on its impropriety. Possibly the reason of addressing Abraham,
rather than calling the culprit herself to an account, was to inflict the
severer reproof. Ah! how vainly do we strive to conceal the secret
thoughts of the mind from the knowledge of God! His eyes, which run to and
fro through the earth, penetrate through every disguise, and perfectly
discern every inward motion as well as every outward action. We live every
moment--in the darkest midnight as well as at the brightest noon--in the
full blaze of Omniscience. "O Lord, thou hast searched me and known me:
thou knowest my down-sitting and mine up-rising; thou understandest my
thoughts afar off."
Incapable of enduring this exposure, the criminal now rushes from her
concealment, and boldly calls out, "I laughed not." This was a direct
falsehood, dictated by apprehension; and it was confronted by the instant
retort of him who knew her heart: "Nay, but thou _didst_ laugh." It is
possible that Sarah had some mental reservation, when she so flatly
denied the assertion of the angel: she might persuade herself that she did
not absolutely laugh, but only smiled, or felt contempt; but whatever mode
she might have adopted to explain away her conscious guilt, it was
unavailable, as every such unworthy subterfuge must always prove.
We cannot help remarking the danger of the least deviation from the path
of rectitude. One sin prepares the way for the commission of another; one
step over the edge and boundary of uprightness may lead us down a
precipice, and plunge us into a fatal series of crimes. We have already
seen an exemplification of this remark; and it is more strikingly
illustrated in the present transaction. Curiosity brought her to the door,
where she was soon betrayed into unbelief: detection soon produced a fear
of censure; this dread produced a ridiculous attempt at concealment and
self-justification; and the pride of her heart issued in exciting her to a
deliberate falsehood. Notwithstanding her incredulity, however, Sarah
shall bear a son, to be the spring of innumerable blessings to her
posterity. Thus infinite goodness overrules the perverseness of his
people, as well as the wrath of sinners, ultimately to promote his
own designs.
If, on this occasion, the daring transgressor had been smitten to the
earth by an instantaneous judgment, it must have been regarded as a proper
expression of the divine displeasure. Her repeated provocations merited
the severest chastisement, and would undoubtedly have justified such a
proceeding. The thoughts of Jehovah, however, are not as our thoughts, nor
his ways as our ways. There is nothing vindictive in the character of the
blessed God; and if he have on certain occasions launched the thunderbolt
upon the guilty heads of sinners, the circumstances have shown that the
atrocity of their iniquities has required a signal visitation. How far
punishment of this nature may be necessary in any particular case, it is
not for beings limited in their views as we are to decide, but simply to
rely on the wisdom of him, who, with a due intermixture of severity and
mercy, justice and grace, conducts the affairs of the universe.
Overawed by the angelic presence, and mortified by an inward consciousness
of her folly and sin, Sarah uttered not another word. She could neither
vindicate her incredulity, nor extenuate her false assertion; and though
she proceeded to great lengths, we are happy to find that she sufficiently
restrained her intemperate passions to retire in silence.
From this moment we trust she assumed another character. Reflection
restored her to her right mind. She dismissed her criminal doubts, and
resigned herself to the divine disposal. As the predestined period of her
giving birth to the child of promise was approaching, her faith produced
the liveliest sensations of joy; and both she and Abraham exulted in the
prospect of a son. That this was the state of her mind, we are assured
from indisputable authority: "Through faith Sarah herself received
strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past
age, because she judged him faithful who had promised."
Perhaps we may be disposed to say, it was time she _did_ believe. After
such remarkable manifestations, and such reiterated promises to Abraham,
it would have been passing strange had she continued incredulous. Surely
there was enough to convince her, that, whatever difficulties nature might
present, grace had determined to overcome them, and that every reasonable
and every possible evidence of the intended miracle had been given. But
is it so unusual for mankind to resist the most convincing arguments, and
to disbelieve even the most obvious truth, that the case of Sarah ought to
be regarded as so extraordinary? Have we not daily proof of a similar
obstinacy and perverseness? If it be observed that Sarah possessed great
advantages, being connected with so excellent a man, and so great a
favourite of Heaven as Abraham, and being visited by angelic messengers,
and instructed by celestial visions; this may be admitted. But do not
those who reject the truth of Christianity, or disobey its precepts, act a
more criminal as well as unreasonable part, inasmuch as they enjoy all the
instruction and all the experience of past ages? And is it not a more
outrageous defiance of Heaven to oppose the reality of its manifestations,
after successive centuries have demonstrated the truth of predictions once
mysterious, evinced the nature of facts once misunderstood, dispersed the
typical shadow which once enveloped the sublimest discoveries of infinite
wisdom, and poured upon a benighted world the full blaze of evangelical
revelations?--Sarah doubted the possibility of an occurrence which was
attended with striking difficulties, and evidently miraculous; but what
censure do not they deserve who shut their eyes against the clearest
light, perplex with sophisms the most intelligible statements, and
endeavour, by every exertion of a slanderous tongue and a malignant pen,
to subvert the basis of our religious hopes, and to undermine a fabric
which has stood the test of ages, giving repose and refreshment to
millions of heaven-bound pilgrims on their journey!
To draw the circle of reflection closer.--If _our_ inconsistencies were
written in a book--if the instances of _our_ unbelief amidst evidences, of
_our_ failures in temper and spirit, of _our_ misimprovement of the
peculiar advantages of our situation, were recorded for the warning of
others--is there any probability that we should acquire much honour by a
comparison with the wife of Abraham? We do not indeed justify _her_
faults, but let us not overlook _our own_. We have better means, and
brighter discoveries. In these last days God hath spoken unto us by his
Son. We are, through faith, become the children of Abraham, interested in
the new covenant, introduced into the family, and admitted to the
friendship of God. We have seen the visions of patriarchal days, the
promises and blessings of the ancient dispensation, the memorable and
terrific descent of Jehovah on Sinai, the prefigurations of the Mosaic
economy, the personal glories, the incarnate love, the agonizing death,
the triumphant ascension of the Son of God: we enjoy means of instruction
which no other age did or could possess. And wherein consists our
superiority to former saints, even those whose imperfections are the most
conspicuous? Surely, the observation may be retorted upon many hearers and
professors of the gospel, in reference to their too frequent instances of
inconsistency--it is time you _did_ believe!
[Sidenote: Years before Christ, 1897.]
The birth of Isaac, the promised seed was attended with great rejoicings.
His very name, signifying _laughter_, was expressive of the happy
occasion; and Sarah, in the ecstacy of her mind, exclaimed, "God hath made
me to laugh, so that all that hear me will laugh with me." The birth of a
child is naturally the subject of joy and congratulation; but the
introduction of Isaac into the world, who had been so long and repeatedly
promised, demanded and excited unusual satisfaction. Sarah, who introduced
him with a mother's joy, nursed him herself with a mother's care. She was
ignorant of the cruel absurdity which modern refinement has invented, of
separating the tender offspring from its proper guardian and provider, and
thus not only exposing it to many inconveniences and hardships, but
nullifying the wise and kind arrangements of Providence. Alas! nature,
reason, and religion, must all be violated in compliance with fashion!
Need we feel surprised that barbarity should produce alienation, and that
she who refuses to show tenderness, should fail of receiving attachment?
Is it at all astonishing, that habits and sentiments foreign to domestic
comfort should be acquired; and that, when proper discipline and personal
superintendence are neglected, the young plant should shoot into unsightly
irregularities of spirit and character?
How soon may the brightest day be overcast with a cloud! How liable are
our best enjoyments to interruption! The weaning of Isaac was celebrated
with great festivities; upon which occasion this favourite child was
recognized as Abraham's heir. This excited the displeasure of Ishmael;
which the jealous eye of Sarah observing, she insisted upon the
instantaneous expulsion of mother and son from the family. We are sorry to
witness any revival of the old spirit; but, in this world, unholy passions
cannot be totally eradicated. We should hope, however, there was more
reason, as well as religion, in her displeasure on this than on a former
occasion. The young man was, probably, ridiculing the whole ceremony, and
deriding the parents, the child, and the promise; for passion and
prejudice are never very discriminating in their censures. Ishmael was, in
fact, of a wild, ungovernable temper; but we have no evidence that the
provocation was sufficient to justify the proceeding of Sarah, in
peremptorily demanding the expulsion of the mother and her child. Thus
did Abraham's concubinage continue to imbitter his domestic peace; and the
good old patriarch was again placed in a most difficult and perplexing
situation.
Whatever feelings may be supposed to have dictated the resolution of
Sarah, it was coincident with the designs of God; and Abraham, who had
certainly sought divine direction, was commanded to comply. This would, no
doubt, quiet the feverish anxiety of his mind; for a consciousness of
doing the will of God, however contrary it may be to our natural
inclinations, is sufficient to smooth the roughest path of duty, and to
lighten the heaviest burden we may be called to sustain. Abraham, in this,
as well as in various other instances, displayed exemplary faith. The
bitter draught, however, was somewhat sweetened. It was difficult to
parental feelings to concur in so severe a measure; but some gleam of
futurity was afforded to enlighten the darksome but appointed path. "And
God said unto Abraham, Let it not be grievous in thy sight, because of the
lad, and because of thy bond-woman: in all that Sarah hath said unto thee,
hearken unto her voice; for in Isaac shall thy seed be called. And also of
the son of the bond-woman will I make a nation, because he is thy seed."
Notwithstanding the faults to which we have found it necessary to advert,
Sarah was unquestionably a great character. She not only stands recorded
in the New Testament amongst those who were illustrious in ancient times
for their faith, but is exhibited as a pattern of domestic conduct. Her
defects were but occasionally visible, being commonly concealed amidst the
brightness of her numerous excellencies. Her obedience to Abraham is
specified by the apostle as a laudable singularity, which, in connexion
with other virtues, he thus recommends: "Likewise, 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.--Whose adorning let it
not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold,
or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in
that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. For after this
manner, in the old time, the holy women also, who trusted in God, adorned
themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands, even as Sarah
obeyed Abraham, calling him lord; whose daughters ye are, as long as ye do
well, and are not afraid with any amazement."
[Sidenote: Years before Christ, 1859.]
Seven and thirty years after the birth of Isaac and when Sarah had
attained the age of one hundred and twenty-seven, we come to the
conclusion of her "mortal story." Her death, and the respect paid to her
memory, are related with a circumstantial minuteness which is truly
honourable to her character. This affecting event occurred at Kirjah-Arba,
or Hebron, in the plain of Mamre, where Abraham came to bemoan his loss.
Venerable man! thine was no common mourning! Thou didst not merely sit
upon the ground, assuming the customary attitude of grief; but thine were
genuine sorrows! What big tears of undissembled pain poured down thine
aged cheeks! How did affection recal the days, and months, and years of
delightful union, which time had strengthened, but death had now
dissolved! And yet, while nature demanded this tribute of fond
remembrance, religion had taught thee to moderate thy distress, and to
elevate thy hopes to a brighter world, where holy friendship, begun on
earth, shall be purified and perpetuated through everlasting ages!
The longevity of ancient times, and especially of the antediluvians,
naturally excites surprise; but what a dream is human life, even at its
most protracted period! How soon do even centuries elapse! How solemn the
consideration, that the flood of ages, which has swept from the surface of
this globe so many millions of our predecessors, however firm may have
been their health, or numerous their years, or eminent their characters,
is daily impelling us forward to the "house appointed for all living."
_Their_ pilgrimage terminated, and so must _ours: their_ earthly relations
were dissolved, and _their_ places in society were vacated; and soon the
place which we occupy, shall "know us no more." The stream flows on, and
we cannot arrest its course. Happy for us, if it should appear that we are
going to join the society of the blessed; if, possessing the faith of
Abraham, we have reason to indulge the hope of being eventually
transported to his bosom!
Sitting in imagination at the grave of Sarah, and blending our
sympathizing tears with those of her honoured husband, what a lesson may
we learn respecting the vanity of human life! The flower whose exquisite
beauty and attractive sweetness once excited so much desire, is faded, and
mingled with common dust! There lies a form, which _was_ so lovely and so
beloved, to furnish a repast for creeping worms! How bereft of that spirit
which once animated it! How altered and defaced by the putrifying touch of
mortality! Here the race of life terminates; and to this loathsome
dwelling, the proudest, the fairest, the wealthiest, _the_ most
celebrated, and the most elevated of our race, must sooner or later
descend! "Prepare to meet thy God!"
We may take a momentary glance at another consideration. In order to
answer the great end of their being, in order to be furnished with
adequate means for the employment of their immortal faculties, and for
possessing that plenitude of felicity of which their sanctified natures
are capable, the saints of God must be removed out of the present world.
Often do they exclaim, "I loath it; I would not live alway:"--"O that I
had wings like a dove; for then would I flee away and be at rest!"
This prevailing _wish_ accords with the _purpose_ of Heaven. Infinite
benevolence cannot allow a spiritual and sanctified character always to be
imprisoned within the narrow confines of flesh and blood. It could never
be satisfied to assign the objects of its affection so mean a portion as
the pleasures and the possessions of this inferior state of existence.
They must _die_ to be perfectly _blest_. This earth _will not do_ for a
Christian in the _maturity_ of his character. It is too vile, and too
transitory. Its gold is but dust--its applause, a puff of noisy air--its
sparkling pleasures, but polluted cisterns--its richest gifts, but
bubbles, which, if they reflect the fairest colours of the rainbow, break
when they are grasped, or dissolve as we approach them, into mist and
nothingness! "Set your affection on things above:--the things which are
_seen_ are TEMPORAL; the things which are _not seen_ are ETERNAL!"
Hagar.