Domestic life furnishes the most attractive and the most instructive

species of history. If it do not present an equal diversity of incident

with the narratives of rising or falling empires, in whose mighty concerns

every passion of human nature is interested, it possesses the superior

advantage of "coming home to men's business and bosoms."

The scene of _general history_ is frequently placed in a region which, to

the great proportion of mankind, is inaccessible; and however we may

admire its principal actors, they seldom furnish examples capable of being

exhibited for imitation. The sphere in which they moved is so totally

different, so far remote from that in which our duty usually lies, that

the knowledge of their achievements can conduce but little, to the great

purposes of practical improvement. The story of _private life_ possesses a

very different character; we are at once introduced to our _own_ sphere;

and although it may relate to a class in society either very much inferior

or superior in point of station to ourselves, it necessarily brings into

review relations which we all sustain, situations we have all to occupy,

and duties we have all to discharge. Whether, therefore, a princess or a

peasant be the principal actor, the central point round which every

circumstance revolves, and from which it derives interest and distinction,

it claims and will repay our serious attention.

Independently of these general considerations, the history of Ruth, in

connection with that of Naomi and Orpah, has been always regarded as

singularly interesting: it is a most pathetic tale, illustrative of the

operation of the tenderest of the domestic affections, in unison with

genuine religion: it exhibits the most artless simplicity of manners, the

most virtuous sensibilities, and the most affecting interpositions of

Providence. It is at once romantic and true, sublime and simple,

marvellous and natural: it constitutes, moreover, a connecting link in the

great chain of providence, and an important incident in the history of

redemption.

The sacred book, which derives its name from RUTH, was in all probability

written by Samuel: this is the concurrent opinion of Jews and Christians.

It may be considered as supplementary to the book of Judges, an

introductory to the history of David, whose descent from Judah through

Pharez is distinctly traced in the genealogy of Boaz.

According to Jewish tradition, Ruth was of the royal race of Moab, a

nation descended from Lot, and settled on the borders of the salt sea in

the confines of Judah. She married Mahlon, the son of Elimelech, who lived

in Moab in consequence of a famine which prevailed in Judea. After his

death, relying on the promises made to the tribe of Judah, to which her

husband belonged, she became a proselyte; and thus the Holy Spirit, by

recording the adoption of a Gentile woman into that family from which the

Messiah was to descend, might intend to intimate the comprehensive design

of the Christian dispensation. "It must be remarked also, that in the

estimation of the Jews it was disgraceful to David to have derived his

birth from a Moabitess; and Shimei, in his revilings against him, is

supposed by the Jews to have tauntingly reflected on his descent from

Ruth. This book, therefore, contains an intrinsic proof of its own verity,

inasmuch as it records a circumstance so little flattering to the

sovereign of Israel [19]; and it is scarcely necessary to

appeal to its admission into the canon of Scripture for a testimony of its

authentic character; or to mention that the evangelists, in describing our

Saviour's descent, follow its genealogical accounts." [20]

[Sidenote: Years before Christ, about 1818] This book commences with a

statement of the calamitous situation of Israel in consequence of a

famine, one of those messengers of divine displeasure sometimes

commissioned to scourge a guilty land, and chastise them into obedience.

Elimelech, a resident in Bethlehem-Judah, was compelled, probably with

many others, to quit his beloved home, and seek a temporary subsistence in

the country of Moab, which, although favoured at this time with the

blessings of temporal prosperity and abundance, was destitute of those

religious means, without which, in the view of a good man, Eden would lose

its charms, and life its value. He took with him his wife Naomi and his

two sons Mahlon and Chilion; and, under the guidance of that Providence

which once tamed the lions and restrained the fires of Chaldea, found an

asylum in the bosom of Israel's enemies.

In this exile, a family so ancient and reputable sunk into such

degradation excites our compassion; still more so, when in tracing their

adventurous history, we find them assaulted by new forms of sorrow and

calamity. Elimelech dies, and Naomi is left with her two sons. The young

men afterward marry, the one Orpah, the other Ruth, both natives of Moab.

It seems as though the disconsolate widow were beginning to dry up her

tears, and to rebuild her fallen house by those matrimonial alliances

which tended to naturalize them in the country; but whether the use of

these idolatrous materials was displeasing to God, or whether it was

deemed requisite to detach the mind of Naomi, by repeated afflictions,

from a soil in which her affections were becoming too deeply rooted, her

two sons also died in a few years, and the three females were left to

grapple with adversity alone. The original state and character of the

young women is uncertain, but they became proselytes to the Jewish

religion. They might have become so previously to their union with their

now departed husbands, whom, if the sacred narrative had been more

detailed and minute, we might possibly have had occasion to applaud for

their pious discrimination, rather than to censure or suspect for

impropriety of conduct; at least, under all the circumstances, we are by

no means justified in severe animadversions upon their choice. But,

whatever might have been their intentions, the Supreme Disposer was

working with a wise but mysterious secrecy, to promote his designs which

were linked with a succession of events extending to far distant

generations. Poor Naomi! how desolate thy condition! how deep thy

depression! Wave after wave rolls over thy defenceless head! And yet,

where is the human being to whom no comforts are left? Thy daughters

remain, and even if they had been removed, thy pious spirit would not have

sorrowed over their graves, as one that has no hope! Thy religion has

supplied thee with sources of consolation unknown to the world, and

indestructible by calamity, time, or death--"The eternal God is thy

refuge," "and underneath are the everlasting arms."

The rapid changes in this family cannot fail to remind us of the

instability of earthly possessions and enjoyments; nor ought we to forget

the wisdom and the goodness of that divine superintendence, which holds

all these changes in subserviency to his will. How impressive is the

language of inspiration, "we all do fade as a leaf;"--and how

illustrative of the present tragical history! When the sun of summer beams

upon the growing landscape, and, ascending some eminence, you survey the

valleys covered over with corn, the hills adorned with verdure, the trees

bending their abundant foliage to the gale, the flowers in "yellow meads

of asphodel and amaranthine bowers," perfuming the air with their odours,

you seem for a moment to inhabit regions of enchantment and perpetual

beauty. A month or two intervenes--you reascend your former elevation,

once more to feast the senses--to admire and adore the Dispenser of these

blessings--but O how faded! The bright beams of the sun are shrouded in a

wintry cloud--the corn has disappeared--the flocks retire--the trees are

bereft of their foliage--the flowers lie scattered on the ground. Such,

such is human life; thus we and our families fade! to-day in

vigour--to-morrow in dust! Where are generations past? where are our

ancestors? where our immediate predecessors? where our early associates,

and many of the individuals that have enlivened our social hours in

maturer life? Like the leaves which cluster on the ground in autumn, and

almost obstruct the path of the traveller, they seem to have dropped in

quick succession, and to lie in faded heaps on the road that leads into

eternity. And, alas! with an indifference too nearly resembling that which

is apparent in the unheeding passenger, who tramples autumnal foliage

beneath his feet, we tread on the graves of departed ages, and neglect to

imitate the example of the pious dead.

Pause and reflect, "we _all_ do fade." Whatever our circumstances or

connections, the inevitable dominion of death extends over all. The leaves

may occupy a higher or a lower station on the tree, they may be suspended

on the loftiest or the lowliest branches--but they _all_ drop off; and we

may be rich or poor, learned or illiterate, young or old, the house of the

grave is "appointed for _all _ living." Providence in mercy permits the

union of families long to remain unbroken; and, at length, in _mercy_

too--whatever the suggestions of despondency--dissolves it. The parent

expires, and the children follow; till, perhaps, the _name_ only survives,

like a tree bared to the storm of winter thrown down by the blast, and at

length rotting into dust.

Mournfully fascinating, however, and instructing as these considerations

appear, they must not divert us longer from the narrative. Naomi, at the

distance of ten years, cherished a constant anxiety respecting what passed

in Israel; and, weaned by repeated trials, if not still more so by

Moabitish idolatry, from her present situation, she heard with pleasure,

"that the Lord had visited his people, in giving them bread:" upon which

she determined to return, and take her two daughters-in-law with her into

Judea. This secondary kindred often proves a source of the most unhappy

jealousies and animosities in domestic life, but the harmony in which

these women lived, and with which they concerted measures for their

removal, indicated at least the goodness of all their dispositions. They

were, besides, in equal distress. Affliction, in almost every form, is

beneficial in its tendency; and nothing is more calculated to strengthen

mutual attachment than common calamity.

How often is distress, similar to this, aggravated by unkindness!

Moroseness on the one part, and undutifulness on the other, excite the

mother-in-law against the daughter-in-law, and the daughter-in-law against

the mother-in-law; whereas reason, religion, and even self-love, require a

different conduct. The poverty of Naomi was no objection to Orpah and Ruth

to accompany her in her departure from Moab; but at once, abandoning every

minor or selfish consideration, they prepared to attend her unprotected

way. They would not suffer her to drink alone of the bitter cup, but

resolved to encourage her by sharing it.

A bitter cup indeed it was. Who can imagine, without a painful sympathy,

the situation of three friendless women, each a widow, and quitting a

country where they left behind so many sad recollections! There they had

lost the dearest of earthly connections, who, had they been preserved to

this hour, would have soothed their sorrows, sustained their spirits, and

accompanied their journey! The voice of parental and conjugal tenderness

was silent in the grave! Their natural timidity had no shelter--their

tears were wiped away by no kind hand--their steps were supported by no

sustaining arm--the world was a barren wilderness before them--they seemed

to be alone, as after a ship-wreck--and they had no immediate refuge but

in themselves, and--for there was still another hope, an observant friend,

a helper to the needy in his distress--in GOD!

Having proceeded a short distance, Naomi, overwhelmed with a sense of the

disinterested kindness of her daughters-in-law, even more than with her

own affliction, begged them to leave her, and return to their respective

homes. She adverts to their past amiable and affectionate conduct; and

severe as parting would prove to her maternal heart, she wished them still

to be happy in the Sand of their nativity. Commending them to the

benediction of the God of Israel, and expressing her desire for their

happiness in the formation of future connections, "she kissed them" in

token of a long and last farewell.

What fondness and what agony blended in that embrace! What a separation!

It was no moment for words; the lovely daughters could only weep! A

thousand past endearments recurred to their memory, a thousand

uncertainties springing from the bosom of futurity, presented themselves

to their minds. They had cherished a mutual esteem--they were blended

into one in feeling, in interest, in all that can render life desirable.

Their dark path had hitherto been enlightened by the beam of

affection;--and was the sun to set upon their day for ever?

Alas! what a land of mourning is this! what heart-rending separations are

we called to experience on earth; and what an hour of parting from the

tenderest of connexions will soon arrive, when, death interposing his

authority to break the ties of nature and of friendship, we must bid adieu

to those who would indeed gladly accompany us, but _must_ survive to walk

alone in the wilderness.

We are, however, attributing too much to this formidable power. He may

break the ties of nature--but he cannot dissolve the union of _Christian_

friendship. The pious shall meet again in a region uninfested by

malignity, and where the long annals of everlasting ages shall record no

day of separation, and no instance of death.

It was kind, it was disinterested, it was maternal, in Naomi to propose

this parting; but they were not to be persuaded. As soon as tears

permitted utterance, they exclaimed, "Surely we will return with _thee_

unto _thy_ people."--"We have taken our resolution, and cannot depart

from it. To go _with_ thee is indeed a trial--but to go _from_ thee is

incalculably worse. Thou shall not be forsaken. We will be inseparable."

Naomi remonstrated, and kindly repeated her commands. She called them

_daughters_, an appellation they had well merited by their ardent and

unabated attachment, earnestly entreating them to "turn again; and"

intimating that they could not reasonably entertain a hope of her having

sons whom they might marry, and therefore they could not accompany her

without detriment to themselves. She was afflicted at the idea of their

being widows in the days of their youth; and especially that, for her

sake, they should continue in so solitary a condition, voluntarily

resigning to her comfort the joys of connubial love.

Again they wept--but from this moment, Orpah and Ruth take a different

course. The former fails in her resolution, embraces her mother-in-law,

and returns; the latter "cleaves to her," and remains the solitary example

of unconquerable affection, the heroine of the future narrative.

In the character of Orpah, we perceive an exemplification of that

imperfect obedience which characterizes those who have been induced to pay

some degree of attention to the gospel of Christ, but who have been

influenced by certain subordinate motives to retrace their steps. She

contemplated future poverty with alarm, and cannot be exculpated from a

charge of secretly preferring the service of Chemosh, the Moabitish god,

to the service of Jehovah. Her affection for Naomi had, perhaps, induced

her hitherto to dissemble; and though she persevered to a considerable

extent, when the final resolution was to be taken, she paused--hesitated

--trembled--and drew back. She could not part with _all_ for this

service. In the days of Christ, many treated him with respect, listened to

his words, admired, and like the young ruler, even wished to become his

follower, but excited the best hopes only to disappoint them. Happy,

thrice happy, they who take up the cross, and follow him through much

tribulation; nobly resisting the allurements of the world, the demands of

earthly friendship, and even the interdictions of human authority, for the

sake of Christ and his gospel! The martyr's _crown_ awaits them, for

they display the martyr's _spirit_.

At a superficial glance, the address of Naomi to Ruth, upon this occasion,

seems altogether extraordinary; "Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back

unto her people, and unto her gods; return thou after thy sister-in-law."

Did she then really wish to urge this young widow to imitate the conduct

of her sister, not only in returning to her relations, but to the service

of the gods of Moab? Whatever opinion she entertained of her

daughter-in-law's piety, could she really be desirous of placing her in

circumstances of such temptation and danger? This supposition would be at

least uncharitable, and contradicts probability. It was rather a trial of

her sincerity in religion, and an evidence of her determination to use no

compulsory measures, not even maternal influence, to coerce her

conscience. Her language was, besides, premonitory and warning, similar to

the permission given to Balaam, who though apparently admonished to go and

curse Israel, was really interdicted.

Ruth received the appeal in a manner worthy of her character, and the

most satisfactory to Naomi. "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return

from following after thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and where

thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my

God. Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do

so to me and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." If the pious

origin of this attachment were not sufficiently apparent, we should be

tempted to call it romantic; but founded as it was in religion, we must

contemplate it as a rare specimen of a perfection in friendship, scarcely

ever attained in the cold and chilling atmosphere of this world. Nothing

could have so ripened and matured it, but the beamings of heavenly love,

which rendered even an unfriendly soil productive of so choice a fruit.

Notwithstanding the indigent circumstances of Naomi, her daughter-in-law

persisted in accompanying her, and thus voluntarily chose affliction with

the people of God in preference to hereditary affluence and distinction.

With deliberate resolution, and persevering consistency, she adhered to

her purpose, calculating upon all the inconveniences that might result,

but not fearing them. She turned her back upon the glory of the world,

neither dreading its frowns nor soliciting its patronage. She knew that

she could live happily without human applause, but not without divine

approbation. Her early prejudices were subdued by principle, and she felt

no hesitation in discarding the gods of Moab to procure the love of the

God of Israel. In fact she _did_ choose the path of true honour and

renown. The servant of God is the greatest character in the universe, and

will eventually be exalted to a situation which will fully and for ever

disclose the perfect nothingness of terrestrial glory, and the shadowy

nature of all that mortals have been deluded to imagine substantial.

This part of the history may serve to suggest the beneficial inquiry,

whether we habitually cherish an equal zeal for our religion, with that

which this young Moabitess manifested? It would be easy to descant upon

the superiority of our advantages, and to urge our increased

responsibility; but do we equal her in the firmness of our faith, and the

steadfastness of our profession? It may not be a question, whether we are

likely to be called to similar or equal trials; but the most important

consideration is, whether through the grace of God we stand prepared for

_whatever_ trials await us in the path of duty; and whether, with fewer

difficulties and greater advantages, we at least display an equal decision

of character? We have Sabbaths--do we keep them? We have Bibles--do we

read them? We have religious and social opportunities--do we improve

them? We have pious friends--do we, like Ruth, cleave to them? Do we come

out from the world, and are we separate, saying to the church of Christ,

and adhering to our purpose, "We will go with you, for we have heard that

God is with you?" Association is a test of character. The companion

exhibits the man.

Candour and sincerity may be recommended from this example, as the best

policy. We should not be ashamed of our religion: an open avowal, like

that of Ruth, which prevented any farther importunity to return to the

idolatries of Moab, is calculated to prevent a thousand perplexities into

which the wavering, the timid, and the dissembling, inevitably fall.

Persons of this description fail in every respect. They dissatisfy both

parties, sacrifice their own peace of mind, and incur all the pains,

without securing any of the pleasures of genuine piety. Hesitating

between a sense of duty and an inclination to sin, trembling amidst

conflicting attractions and opposing interests, they never attain to

dignity of character or repose of spirit. They lie at the mercy of every

foe, of every passion, of every change. Without the pilotage of principle,

they know not what course to take, and are every moment in danger of a

fatal wreck. "He that wavereth is like a wave of the sea, driven with the

wind and tossed! ... A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways."

It is unquestionably a duty devolving on all who believe in Christ, to

"confess him;" and to this candid avowal he has himself attached, not only

the purest felicities on earth, but the honour of a public acknowledgment

of their persons and services before assembled ages in the day of

judgment, together with a final admission into the paradise of his

presence. It is indeed criminal to profess attachment to him when we do

not feel it, and it is also highly improper to cherish such an attachment

without daring to avow it. If the former must be characterized as

hypocrisy, the latter cannot be exculpated from the charge of sinful

timidity; if the one be presumptuous boldness, the other is unholy fear.

To avow our principles, on all suitable occasions, with unshrinking

firmness, is essential to integrity, and distinctly claimed by religion.

The worldly motives which influenced some of the chief rulers in the days

of our Lord, if not to disavow, at least to withhold their public

concurrence with his doctrines, are mentioned in the gospel to their

everlasting dishonour. They are not exhibited as specimens of violent

hostility, but of that spirit of neutrality which resulted from political

feelings, and which, being no less deemed a real enmity, will receive its

appropriate condemnation. "Nevertheless, among the chief rulers also many

believed on him; but because of the Pharisees they did not confess him,

lest they should be put out of the synagogue. For they loved the praise of

men more than the praise of God."

This kind of preference seems to be the result of strange infatuation, the

origin of which demands a serious inquiry. In part, it may be accounted

for from the impression which sensible and near objects produce on the

mind, in comparison with those which are less obvious and more distant.

Visible things attract attention, while those which are invisible, being

placed beyond the sphere of sense, remain unnoticed. An object which is

really greater, appears less when it is more remote. Eternity seems, in

human estimation, extremely distant; its crown of glory afar off; all the

possessions of the New Jerusalem disappear from view, when covered with

the mists of futurity. We are easily affected by loud applauses, gay

scenes, and temporal good. The secret whispers of an approving conscience

are less audible, the smiles of God less perceptible to a depraved and

earthly mind. In addition to which, temporal inconveniences or dangers are

frequently connected with a conduct which secures the approbation of God;

a criminal apprehension of which produces indifference and distaste for

religion. When the choice lies between shame, poverty, affliction, the

sacrifice of worldly interest, and even death itself in the one

balance--and temporal distinction, affluence, ease, advancement, in the

other--many will hesitate, with Agrippa, few determine, with Moses. In the

present history one was taken, the other left. The experiment has been

since sufficiently tried upon a large scale, and proofs are perpetually

accumulating, that the temper and conduct of Orpah were coincident with

those of the great majority in the world.

The narrative of the journey to the place of Naomi's early residence, is

comprised in one short sentence; "So they two went until they came to

Bethlehem." We are left in ignorance of those circumstances which

curiosity would wish to explore in so remarkable a removal. Who can doubt,

that in a distance of at least one hundred and twenty miles over mountains

and rivers, these female travellers, unprotected, friendless, on foot, and

seeking day by day a precarious assistance from the wild luxuriancy of

nature, or the occasional hospitality of the stranger, must have

encountered repeated perils, and often deemed themselves irretrievably

lost. But there was an eye that watched them, of whose observance they

were not ignorant; an arm that protected them, on whose powerful support

they leaned by faith, and leaned not in vain. _He_ can never be destitute

who has _God_ for his father; _he_ can never be lost, in whatever region

he wanders, who has _God_ for his guide! In the adventurous journey of

life take his proffered aid, ye children of adversity! repose in his

goodness, having committed your way to him, ye widowed mourners! while God

is on his throne, ye cannot inhabit a fatherless world, ye cannot be

destitute of efficient aid! "A Father of the fatherless, and a Judge of

the widows, is God in his holy habitation."

In a small town, like Bethlehem, the arrival of these strangers would

naturally awaken inquiry. After an absence of ten years, the inhabitants

probably never expected to see Naomi again. Such is the vicissitude of

human affairs, that within a few years many strange mutations occur, even

in places of no great extent. Of her former friends or acquaintances, some

were, no doubt, consigned to the grave; and her own appearance and

circumstances were so altered since her departure, that the voice of

friendship, the congratulation of love, seems to have subsided into the

idle language of wonderment, "Is this Naomi?"

_It is_--but the mention of her name is a caustic to the wounds of her

heart. The endearments attached to that beloved and significant

appellation are fled with departed time, and Bethlehem no longer beholds

her in a situation to command respect, to excite envy, or to purchase

attention. Her husband, her children, are no more!--one, one only comfort

remains--one friend, one solace in adversity--one ray of light in the dark

hour! Amidst universal desertion, RUTH has not forsaken her; but is become

her joy in sorrow, her companion in solitude, her prop in decrepit age!

Can we wonder that she wishes to discard a name which awakened such

recollections, and only recalled the _dream_ of happiness? "Call me not

_Naomi_,--call me _Mara_; for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with

me. I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home again empty; why

then call ye me _Naomi_, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and

the Almighty hath afflicted me?"

There is something in these words which charity requires us to excuse. If,

under the peculiar circumstances in which she was at present placed, the

name of NAOMI, which signifies _pleasant_, distracted her, and she wished

rather to adopt that of Mara, importing _bitterness_, her impatience must

not be interpreted in the worst sense. After long absence, it is natural

to anticipate a return home, and a rush of joy pervades even unfeeling

minds, when the spire of their native _village_, the smoke of their native

_hamlet_, especially the roof of their native _cottage_, first strikes

upon the sight. Friends, family, neighbours, early scenes and pleasures,

recur with a force which gives the air of enchantment to the long-lost

scene. But every feeling of this nature was, in the case of Naomi,

checked by different associations; the darkness of the sepulchre converted

this day into midnight, and this lovely spot into a desolate wilderness!

There is, moreover, something in Naomi's remonstrance, which sympathy

would lead as to pity, and experience, in some degree, to blame. She

commits an evident mistake in attributing the dispensations she had

suffered, to a _testimony against her_ on the part of the supreme

Disposer. Viewing past events through the discolouring medium of present

affliction, and incapable of perceiving their secret and concurrent

design, she forms a conclusion, which is rather the effect of temporary

depression of mind, than of a settled conviction of judgment. We cannot

doubt, indeed that the impression was evanescent; but it seems allied to

that of the impatient patriarch, who exclaimed, "All these things are

against me." _That_ eminent servant of God enjoyed the privilege of living

to a period in which the divine purposes were fully developed, and of

seeing that what he deemed hostile circumstances, were really conducive to

the most wise and felicitous results. Had Jacob departed during the

interval, and while the mysterious plan was yet unaccomplished, his grey

hairs would have gone down with sorrow to the grave, and the cloud of

mystery would have been suspended over his dying hour. Such is the usual

lot of the righteous. Life, in general, does not afford a space

sufficiently ample, a period sufficiently protracted, for the complete

execution of the great purposes of Infinite Goodness with regard to our

real interests; and we murmur, because we cannot penetrate his

arrangements. Patience, however, should be supported by the consideration

that either in this, or in a future state of existence, the day of

satisfactory explanation will arrive.

But there is a sentiment pervading the whole of this appeal, which,

notwithstanding its partial defects, piety must warmly approve. Every

thing is imputed to "the Lord." Naomi sees his hand in whatever occurrence

she has witnessed. To him she imputes the fulness of her prosperity, and

the emptiness of her adversity. In _every_ change, in _every_ place, she

beholds and bows, to the ALMIGHTY. When this is happily the prevailing

sentiment, the storm of angry passions will soon subside, the murmurings

of discontent cease, and the clear shining of comfort break forth from

behind the cloud.

"The Lord God omnipotent reigneth." This is enough! Angels and blessed

spirits shall not monopolize the strain of gratitude and acknowledgment.

Mortal voices shall join immortal harps, saying, "HALLELUJAH!"

SECTION II.

Time of the Return to Bethlehem--Ruth offers to go and

glean--Dispositions indicated by this proposal--she happens upon the

Field of Boaz--his Kindness--their Conversation--additional

Favours--Ruth's return Home--Her Mother-in-law's wish to connect her in

Marriage with Boaz--the Measures she suggests, and which her daughter

adopts with ultimate Success--their Marriage--Birth of a

Son--concluding Remarks,

Tales of fictitious wo, and of splendid distress, may alone be capable of

fascinating those who recline on the lap of luxury, and who seek

amusement, without soliciting instruction; but, among persons who possess

any taste for genuine simplicity, any delight in the sacred employment of

tracing the operations of infinite wisdom in the works of Providence, any

desire for their own mental and spiritual improvement, and who have not

yet learned of dissipated folly to despise

"The short and simple annals of the poor;"

the remaining circumstances of the narrative introduced into the preceding

chapter, cannot fail of exciting interest.

That God, who promised Noah, that "while the earth remaineth, seed-time

and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night,

shall not cease;" and who "visits the earth and waters it, greatly

enriching it with the river of God which is full of water, and prepares

them corn when he has so provided for it;" having at this period dispensed

fertility to the fields of Bethlehem, the humble travellers from Moab

chose, or rather, were appointed by a superior influence to return in the

season of barley-harvest. This was probably at the commencement of the

month of May. [21]

But whither shall the wretched fugitives turn for assistance and support?

It was indeed a time of plenty, but they were in extreme poverty. Golden

harvests waved around them, but having no fields to reap, they were

sorrowful amidst universal gladness, and depended upon precarious means of

subsistence.

Ruth proposed to her mother-in-law to allow her to go and glean in any

field where she could obtain the permission of the proprietor; to which

Naomi readily consented. _As_ a Moabite, she was probably ignorant, that

what she regarded as a _favour_, was bestowed upon the needy as a _right_

by the God of Israel. "When thou cuttest down thine harvest in thy field,

and hast forgot a sheaf in the field, thou shall not go again to fetch it:

it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless, and for the widow; that

the Lord thy God may bless thee in all the work of thine hands." This law

is more than once repeated, and Ruth had a peculiar claim upon the

liberality of its provisions, as uniting all the three species of

wretchedness in her individual case. She was indeed a _stranger_, an

_orphan_, and a _widow_.

The proposal of Ruth upon this occasion is, in many respects, illustrative

of her estimable character. It furnishes a specimen of that _respectful

treatment_ which is due from the younger relative, to those whom venerable

age and long experience have rendered their superiors. She would do

nothing without Naomi; but consults her wishes, and seeks her concurrence

in attempting to procure subsistence by means which she deemed the best

adapted to their present poverty. A churlish temper would have submitted

with extreme reluctance, and many taunting reproaches to what might easily

have been represented as the drudgery and degradation of the gleaner's

field; but this excellent daughter-in-law displayed a spirit most worthy

of imitation.

Her _reflecting kindness_ may be recommended to the notice of the

inconsiderate and unfeeling. Offering herself to the laborious but

necessary service, she is far from hinting any wish that Naomi should

either accompany her to the field, or take measures to spare her, by

seeking the aid of her richer relations, or the casual contributions of

others. She wished to extend her support to the wearied and decaying

nature of her beloved relative, and to use every possible exertion to

alleviate her anxieties, to minister to her comfort, and to assist her

infirmity. "Let _me_ now go to the field." Amiable, generous, kindhearted

woman! Thou wert anxious to procure for thy poor, afflicted, aged mother,

all the repose which her advanced life seemed to require, to wipe away the

tear from her dimmed eye and farrowed cheek, and as far as possible, to

dissipate the clouds that hovered about the setting beam of her earthly

existence!

If there be one scene of domestic life pre-eminently attractive, it is

that of a lovely daughter manifesting a promptitude and zeal to alleviate

the sorrows, and to aid the weekness of a parent, by those nameless and

numberless assiduities which bespeak a genuine affection. Her own works

praise her, and the mere flatterer's tongue is awed into respectful

silence. How deplorable is it to witness the impatience of some young

persons who think every little exertion an insufferable effort, a trouble,

and a fatigue; and who forget the maternal fondness which cherished their

infancy, the wakefulness that guarded their sickness, the love that

never slept.

As Ruth was characterized by a virtuous sensibility, the proposal she made

distinguished her also as _active and industrious_. Although her

mother-in-law was advanced in years, she being in the vigour of her days,

determined to devote her health and strength to procure subsistence. She

did not waste her time in complaining, or sit down in a state of inactive

despondency; but was alive to the duties of her lowly station. The poorest

individual, who cheerfully fulfils his obligations, and exerts himself by

an honest industry to maintain himself and his family, is inexpressibly

more respectable in a wise man's estimation, than pampered luxury lolling

on the couch of indulgence, and dreaming away existence in slothfulness

and pomp. Real worth unquestionably consists in the proper occupation of

that sphere, whatever it may be, which Providence has assigned us: and

that person who is "not slothful in business," but "fervent in spirit,

serving the Lord," secures the esteem of the good, and what is infinitely

more important, the approbation of God. Idleness is no less a perversion

of the designs of nature, than detrimental to our personal happiness. It

not only renders its unhappy devotees useless to society, but burthensome

to themselves. All beings, through every gradation of existence, from the

toiling emmet to the flaming angel, are formed for activity and exertion.

Nor ought we, who are privileged to live under the Christian dispensation,

to forget, that Jesus Christ himself, by his humble appearance and lowly

occupation, as the Son of a carpenter, has elevated honest industry to a

just and honourable distinction.

Accidentally, so far as related to herself, Ruth went and gleaned in the

field of Boaz; but she was guided by an invisible hand. This proprietor

was a man of great opulence, and a relative of Naomi. Coming from

Bethlehem to his reapers, and having exchanged their mutual salutations

according to the pious custom of the times, [22] he inquired of

the superintendent, or steward, the name of the young woman he observed

gleaning amongst the sheaves. Ruth, it appears, attracted his particular

notice. Even a superficial reader might be struck with the astonishing

providential coincidences in this story; and nothing but the most perverse

infidelity can refuse to admit, that the God who had conducted this

interesting widow from Moab to Bethlehem, and from Bethlehem into the

field of the reapers, guided the steps and awakened the solicitude of Boaz

on this occasion.

"And the servant that was set over the reapers answered and said, It is

the Moabitish damsel that came back with Naomi out of the country of Moab.

And she said, I pray you let me glean and gather after the reapers among

the sheaves; so she came, and hath continued even from the morning until

now, that she tarried a little in the house." The rich are frequently

reluctant to acknowledge their poor connections, and in the great majority

of instances, a discovery like this would rather have averted than

conciliated the regards of an affluent proprietor from the humble

individual he found to be the daughter-in-law of his indigent relative.

Superior, however, to unwarrantable prejudices and ridiculous vanity, Boaz

listened to the tale and immediately addressed her in affectionate terms.

It is by no means improbable, that a blush of shame crimsoned his cheek,

from the recollection of his past negligence in suffering Naomi to pine

away in solitary sadness and penury, when it was in his power to have

afforded her relief. Reasons _might_ have existed to justify this delay,

though they must have been very imperious to furnish even a plausible

pretence for such indifference; but the best construction we can put upon

his conduct is to suppose, that, like many worthy and benevolent men, he

was dilatory in the execution of measures which he might have planned to

discover and relieve the necessities of his kindred. The law of love was

in his heart; he hastened to make reparation, and kindly enjoined her to

glean in no other field, to keep fast by his own female servants, and to

drink whenever she chose out of the vessels which were replenished from

time to time for his reapers. He further issued orders to the young men

employed in his service, to show every kindness, and to observe the utmost

decorum towards her, upon pain of his displeasure.

It is observable, that Boaz addressed her by the tender epithet of

_daughter_, adopting the language while he displayed the affection of a

parental protector. Ruth had forsaken every Moabitish friend and relative,

to share the fortunes of Naomi. Her birth-place, her home, her

connections, all were relinquished for the privileges of her new

relationship and adopted country, although to her eye nothing was

presented but poverty and want. But her loss was gain; in Naomi she found

a mother--in Boaz a father--in Bethlehem a home--in Judaism the religion

of heaven, and the way to God. And shall they be eventually losers, who

forsake all things for Christ and his gospel? Listen, ye youthful readers

of either sex, and be wise--"Every one that hath forsaken houses, or

brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or

lands, for my name's sake, shall receive a hundred-fold, and shall inherit

everlasting life."

The reply of Ruth is singularly expressive of her characteristic modesty,

humility, and goodness, The wealthy proprietor of the field had

unexpectedly discovered in one word the history of this stranger: but she

was wholly ignorant of the string that had been touched, and with

artlessness replies, "Why have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou

shouldest take knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger?" This is equally

the language of astonishment and gratitude. Little did she imagine the

mighty consequences of this casual interview, or the real origin of this

extraordinary kindness. Her susceptible and affectionate heart would have

acknowledged the _smallest_ favour, while some, and unhappily too often,

the most dependent and the most indulged of the children of indigence seem

scarcely thankful for the _greatest_ obligations. It ought not to prevent

our charity, but it may well excite our surprise, to find that needy

persons are sometimes disposed to claim as a right what is bestowed as

a boon.

Boaz intimated that the principal circumstances of her past life had come

to his knowledge, and conveyed the most delicate commendation into her

modest ear. He said, that he was aware of her whole behaviour to Naomi,

with the sacrifice she had made of her native land and connections, and

pronounced upon her an affectionate, solemn, and pious benediction: "The

Lord recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God

of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust." To the same refuge

from painful convictions and impending judgments may every reader

instantly repair, embracing, by a devout faith, that glorious Light of the

world, and Saviour of men, who was prefigured, in all the splendours of

his love, by that miraculous brightness which shone between the wings of

the cherubim in the ancient temple, and pointed the Jewish worshipper to

"God manifest in the flesh."

Virtually disclaiming the praise which the opulent stranger had conferred,

and far from imagining that she deserved, or had reason to expect any

reward of God for conduct which she considered as no other than what a

proper sense of duty demanded, Ruth thought herself honoured in the notice

which she had received, respectfully acknowledged the condescension, and

solicited its continuance. "Let me find favour in thy sight, my lord; for

that thou hast comforted me, and for that thou hast spoken friendly unto

thine handmaid, though I be not like unto one of thine handmaidens." Boaz

repeats every kind assurance, invites her to share the rural repast, to

"eat of the bread, and dip her morsel in the vinegar;" and with his own

hand plentifully supplies her with "parched corn."

The sentiments of this excellent woman for the comparatively trifling

kindness of her kinsman, may serve to reprove our cold returns, our

disproportionate gratitude to the Supreme Benefactor, who daily loads us

with temporal benefits, and constantly replenishes the cup of spiritual

blessing; he, indeed, "comforts us;" in his word he "speaks friendly to

us;" and we have, individually, abundant reason to confess, "I am not

worthy of the least of all the mercies and of all the truth which the Lord

has showed unto his servant."

The rural repast being ended, and Ruth having withdrawn into the field to

pursue the humble labour of gleaning, which necessity and affection for an

aged parent alike concurred to prompt, Boaz enjoined his reapers not only

to allow her to glean, and to glean among the sheaves, but to "let fall

some of the handfuls on purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean

them, and rebuke her not." Her real thankfulness and amiable diffidence

procured her these additional favours, and seem to have inspired the noble

benefactor with a feeling which was afterward matured into love and

consolidated in marriage. Let the poor beware of that cold indifference in

the reception of benefits which freezes up the stream of benevolence, and

chills the heart of the most liberal friend; let them equally avoid that

forwardness which seems to demand, rather than to solicit kindness. Boaz,

on this occasion, enjoyed a Double feast; with condescending familiarity

he partook the frugal meal with his labourers, encouraging them by his

presence and piety; with pleasure he fed the hungry stranger, cheerfully

dispensing a portion of what he thankfully received from the Lord of all,

whose bounty had enriched his possessions, and thus enjoying the luxury of

doing good: this was indeed to his benevolent spirit, a feast which all

the wealth of a Croesus could not otherwise have procured.

Boaz may be exhibited as a specimen of that prudential charity which

should always regulate our distributions. He might have supplied Ruth at

once from his ample repository of grain, or from the sheaves of the golden

harvest; but he chose, on the contrary, to encourage her industry, though

he kindly mitigated her toil. Indiscriminate gifts may rather favour

idleness than relieve necessity; and it is as much a duty to see to the

mode of distributing help to the needy, as to render them the requisite

aid: besides which, the poor are more likely to value and to use properly

what has been industriously acquired, than what is lavishly, however, as

to its principle, benevolently communicated. Alleviate the toil of the

necessitous, but do not prevent their useful employment of time and means.

Industry is the law of the universe; and the Supreme Disposer of human

affairs has appointed that "in the sweat of his face man should eat bread

till he return unto the ground."

To Ruth this was one of the happiest evenings of a life which had been

chequered with vicissitude, and of late particularly beclouded with,

sorrow. How different were the feelings with which she returned to the

cottage of her mother-in-law from those which afflicted her bosom when she

quitted it in the early part of this memorable day.

Distressed and friendless she had gone forth; "not knowing whither she

went," anxious only to procure some scanty subsistence for the day to

satisfy the cravings of appetite, and to sustain the weakness of her dear

and aged relative; but she returned laden with the spoils of the harvest

field, an ephah of barley; she had been noticed by a very liberal

proprietor of the soil, and invited to continue gleaning in his field.

With what heartfelt satisfaction did she present the fruits of her

first-day's exertion at the feet of Naomi, and sit down to share that kind

of comfort to which Solomon has so strikingly alluded--"Better is a dinner

of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox, and hatred therewith."

What family in Bethlehem was so truly blessed as these two poor women?

Where, in the whole city, was concentrated so many sweet enjoyments, so

many pure unsophisticated pleasures as met beneath this dwelling? Who

would not rather turn into that lowly door, and listen to the inspired

record of the conversation which took place between, its pious inmates,

than hear the music which shakes the lordly roof, or witness the unmeaning

gayety that riots in its apartments?--The good matron inquired where she

had been gleaning; and seeing the ample supply she had procured, eagerly

demanded where she had wrought: but unable, in the exultation and

overflowings of her gratitude to wait for an answer, she pours forth her

benedictions upon the unknown benefactor: "Blessed be he that did take

knowledge of thee!" Her daughter informed her it was BOAZ; a name welcome

to her ear, and calculated to kindle a hope in a bosom long filled with

distracting griefs: she was reminded of former favours: she remembered his

constant friendship to her family, and uttered an instantaneous

supplication to Heaven for blessings upon his head. Unable herself to

requite his kindness, she well knew who could recompense it, and

therefore prayed, "Blessed be he of the Lord, who hath not left off his

kindness to the living and to the dead!"

Such is the commerce between the benevolent rich and the pious poor; the

former bestows subsistence, the latter blessings. How miserable, how

_deservedly_ miserable is an incommunicative selfishness! Happy the man

who can say with Job, "When the ear heard me then it blessed me; and when

the eye saw me it gave witness to me: because I delivered the poor that

cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing

of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's

heart to sing for joy. I was a father to the poor."

With what astonishment must Ruth have heard, "The man is near of kin unto

us, one of our next kinsmen!" but she did not arrogantly assume her right

to what she had received, or, presuming upon the dignity of her

relationship, propose to make immediate application for that support which

he was so well able to afford: this would have been the first thought of an

ordinary or a selfish mind. On the contrary, she expatiates, with a

satisfaction which heartfelt gratitude and pre-eminent goodness alone

could have inspired, upon the marked attention of Boaz--"He said unto me

also, Thou shall keep fast by my young men until they have ended all my

harvest." Naomi advised her to accept this bounty, lest, by gleaning in

any other field she might seem to undervalue the permission, or to cherish

an offensive dependency of spirit. With her characteristic meekness, Ruth

assented, continuing to pursue her mean occupation during the weeks of

harvest, and returning every evening to share with Naomi her humble cot

and her scanty fare.

During all this time, the mind of the affectionate mother-in-law was

meditating a plan to promote the future happiness of her daughter. Past

the period of marriage herself, she knew that Ruth might yet adorn, as

well as obtain an accession of comfort from such a connection. If the

young woman were satisfied with her obscurity, and content to provide a

precarious subsistence for herself and her venerable relative by the

labour of her hands, Naomi was superior to that selfishness which would

rather have aimed to retain her in perpetual subserviency to her

convenience, than seek to augment her joys, advance her interests, and

raise her to her proper sphere of usefulness. Having made every possible

sacrifice to her and her religion, she deemed it the part of maternal

kindness to avail herself of the existing laws respecting matrimony, to

connect her with the noble minded Boaz. This solicitude she took the first

opportunity of expressing, and directed her to measures, which, if they

appear extraordinary to us, might not have been unseemly or unusual at

that period and in that country. A few years are sufficient to operate a

complete revolution in existing customs; it cannot therefore be

surprising, that the manners of another quarter of the globe, at the

distance of more than thirty centuries, should essentially differ from our

own. To judge of their propriety by our standard is manifestly absurd; and

to make great allowances for the state of society is, in cases of extreme

variation, obviously necessary. After all, the conduct of Naomi may not be

capable of entire vindication; though we are certain it proceeded from a

sentiment of pure affection, and was connected with important results in

the order of Providence: it is, moreover, recorded without the slightest

hint of disapprobation.

Ruth was directed by her mother-in-law to repair with the utmost secrecy

to the threshing-floor; and, when Boaz, conformably to the simple manners

of the age, retired to rest among the heaps of corn, to place herself at

his feet. When be spoke, she was to answer frankly, and await the

intimation of his will. She did so: Boaz made the inquiry, and promised

all that a sense of her virtues and a knowledge of her rights dictated.

The law authorized the present application on her part at the instigation

of Naomi, in order that the possessions of the family might not be

alienated. Kinsmen were required to intermarry, and in case of refusal the

near relative was treated with the utmost public indignity. Boaz perfectly

understood this legal claim; and, notwithstanding his evident partiality

to Ruth, ingenuously informed her, "There is a kinsman nearer than I." If

he performed the kinsman's part, law and piety required acquiescence; if

not, he solemnly avowed his own resolution to do so. Ruth departed before

it was light, and carried the intelligence home. Boaz availed himself of

the earliest opportunity in the morning to bring the affair to a decision;

he went up to the gate, stopped the relative to whom he had alluded as he

was passing by, and appealed to ten of the elders of the city. He at first

agreed to the redemption of some family inheritance which belonged to

Naomi; but, upon intimation that if he purchased the land he must marry

Ruth, he declined it, giving full permission to his relative to enter into

this contract. The mutual regard subsisting between Boaz and Ruth rendered

this a most welcome circumstance, and the former immediately called upon

the elders and all the people who were assembled on the occasion, to hear

witness to this, as a fair, public, and honourable transaction. "So Boaz

took Ruth, and she was his wife."

In some cases, where the matrimonial connection has been founded upon a

dereliction of principle, and formed in defiance of the suggestions of

common prudence, of parental kindness, and even of the interdictions of

Heaven itself, we feel compelled to express our grief, rather than offer

our congratulations; but where, as in the present instance, the voice of

nature harmonized with that of reason, conscience, and God, who can

hesitate to approve the union, and to anticipate that delightful result

which has been so well expressed in poetic numbers?

"Hail, wedded love! by gracious Heaven design'd,

At once the source and glory of mankind!

'Tis this can toil, and grief, and pain assuage,

Secure our youth, and dignify our age;

'Tis this fair fame and guiltless pleasure brings,

And shakes rich plenty from its brooding wings;

Gilds duty's roughest path with friendship's ray,

And strews with roses sweet the narrow way."

If, in all the circumstances that lead to this union, the interpositions

of Providence be not always, perhaps not frequently, so marked,

incontrovertible, and striking, as in the history under consideration, let

it never be forgotten, that such a wise and good superintendence really

exists, and may, in every instance, be traced in some degree by the devout

observer. If our ways be committed to the Lord, he will direct our paths.

Amidst the ardour of youth, we are not always capable of discerning what

is really obvious, or of fully believing what is infallibly true: but

years teach wisdom; the developements of futurity often throw light upon

the mysteries of the past; in the coolness and quiet of the eventide of

life, and even before that period, how commonly do good men acknowledge

the kindness of those once distressing dispensations that thwarted their

juvenile susceptibility. In the adverse, as well as the prosperous events

of the life of Ruth, she could perceive that "all things worked together

for her good;" and no reflecting Christian will hesitate to appropriate

the same sentiment to himself. A plan was laid in the divine mind, in the

execution of which she often acted unconsciously: the birth, the

education, the original circumstances and residence, the removal, the

final elevation of Ruth, were all essential parts of the scheme, links in

the chain of mercy; and the same may be affirmed respecting the life of

every pious individual.

One circumstance demands particular notice. Neither in Boaz nor in Ruth

can we discern the least symptom of _precipitation_; they suffered

Providence to work its own way, to accomplish, without any obstruction

from their unholy haste and heedlessness, its own purposes; in neither of

them is discernible the least trace of a wish to seek their own

gratification irrespectively of the will of Omniscience; they were in a

sense passive, resigning themselves wholly to the disposal of God; they

did not force a passage through intervening impediments with an indecent

and impious resolution of spirit, as if they could not, or would not be

happy excepting in their own way, but "waited patiently for the Lord."

Young persons sometimes attempt to outstrip Providence, and dare to chide

its lingerings, or to murmur at its decisions; they set up for separate

empire, and imagine they can create their own paradise; a conduct which

ultimately proves as fatal to their comfort as it is now to their

respectability. It is an advantage for young people of both sexes, which

cannot be too highly appreciated, to have judicious, and especially

parental advisers. Let them not impute their kind suggestions to the

frigidity of age when they do not keep pace with their own warm feelings,

but consider that they are likely to know more of the world, and to

deserve their attention after amassing a stock of experience. Why should

their good advice, or even their urgent importunity, be deemed officious

or be treated with contempt? If mistaken, they are not, or ought not to

be, peremptory. If not obliged to _follow_ their opinion, young persons

are certainly required, by every motive of duty, and even of

self-interest, to _hear_ it. Were it admitted that Ruth erred in some

degree from her excessive obsequiousness to Naomi, yet her general spirit

and temper merit the strongest encomium, the deepest study, and the closet

imitation.

Tragical as was the commencement of this history, its termination presents

a very different aspect. We beheld the family of Elimelech sinking fast in

human apprehension into oblivion, and his name beginning to cease in

Israel; we now witness its restoration and prosperity: it has emerged from

its obscurity into splendour, and shines with imperishable glory on the

page of inspiration. The aged tree, which time had well nigh lopped of

every branch, sprouts out afresh, and shoots forth with new vigour and

luxuriancy. We should learn never to despair of Providence, never to

relinquish hope, never to imagine that "any thing is too hard for the

Lord." Time, and change, and death, whatever revolutions they may occasion

in general society or in individual families, not only cannot prevent,

but, by their diversified operations, shall conduce to accomplish the

purposes of Heaven. "Time and change," exclaimed Job, "are against _me_."

True; but they cannot countervail _Omniscience_.

We naturally congratulate our favourites upon their prosperity; and the

interest we must feel in the history of Ruth swells into the highest

satisfaction upon reading the closing part of the narrative. We hear of

the birth of Obed, who derives additional importance from the illustrious

line of his descent. A few generations conduct immediately to the MESSIAH.

All the neighbourhood celebrates the event, and we have equal reason to

hail and proclaim it: "And the women said unto Naomi, Blessed be the Lord,

which hath not left thee this day without a kinsman, that his name may be

famous in Israel; and he shall be unto thee a restorer of thy life and a

nourisher of thine old age: for thy daughter-in-law, which loveth thee,

which is better to thee than seven sons, hath borne him. And Naomi took

the child and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto it. And the

women her neighbours gave it a name, saying, There is a son born to Naomi;

and they called his name Obed: HE IS THE FATHER OF JESSE, THE FATHER

OF DAVID."

Ordinary minds avoid, as much as possible, recurring to past periods of

indigence and inferiority of station. Any reference to such circumstances

is deemed offensive, by people of the world who have been elevated from

low situations to opulence and rank, and whose arrogant nothingness proves

they have descended in moral worth and real respectability exactly in

proportion as they have risen in temporal distinction. But every thing we

know of Ruth tends to convince us that, if a detailed account of her

private life had been given, it would have been highly honourable to her

sensibility and her piety. How often, and with what feelings, would she

pace the field where, in the situation of a humble gleaner, she first met

with Boaz. With what emotions would she trace and retrace her own

eventful story! And especially, with what devout gratitude would she call

to mind the days of her idolatry in Moab, and the happy era of her

spiritual emancipation! In her own past character, in her infatuated

sister's defection, what motives to praise would arise, and what tears of

mingled pain and pleasure would she shed! And shall not we, who have

"tasted that the Lord is gracious," cherish a sense of our obligations to

redeeming mercy, and "remember all the way which the Lord our God hath led

us these years in the wilderness, to humble us and to prove us, to know

what was in our hearts, whether we would keep his commandments or no?"

Sweet are the recollections of piety, and acceptable the offerings of a

grateful mind! How inferior to these the trees of Lebanon in sacrifice, or

all the spicy mountains of Arabia in a blaze! From what depths of sin,

what delusions of mind, and what danger of soul, has "God in Christ"

delivered us! "Once far off," we are now "brought nigh"--"sometimes

darkness, now light in the Lord"--"you hath he quickened, who were dead in

trespasses and sins."

But far more exalted pleasures of memory and retrospection await the

Christian in a future world. Having ascended above this cloudy spot into

the glory of the divine presence, it will be his pleasing and privileged

employment to retrace the events of past existence, when nothing but a

_remembrance_ of the struggles and conflicts of this mortal state will

remain, to enhance the raptures of eternal victory. What is crooked will

then be made straight, what is perplexing will become plain, what is

unknown will be revealed. Amidst the songs of heaven it will heighten our

blessedness to recollect the sorrows of earth as _past_--clothed in the

robe of salvation and triumph, it will be grateful to recall the time

when we _wore the armour_ and _strove in the field_--arrived in port, it

will be inexpressibly delightful to recur to the storm as then for ever

_gone by_!

Deborah.

Chapter VIII.

SECTION I.

Historical retrospect--Deborah sitting as a Judge and Prophetess under a

Palm-tree--Sends to Barak to Confront Sisera--Accompanies him--

Preparations for Battle--Victorious Result--Death of Sisera--Reflections.

After the death of Joshua, which occurred in the hundred and tenth year of

his age, and in the two thousand five hundred and seventy-eighth of the

world, the people of Israel were in a very fluctuating, unsettled

condition, having no regularly appointed governor; and the book of Judges,

supposed to have been written by Samuel, exhibits a striking picture of

the disorders incident to such a state of civil disorganization. "Let

every soul," then, "be subject unto the higher powers;" remembering that,

as "rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil," while we are

properly submissive to their authority, we should be grateful to God for

their appointment.

Although the Israelites, who had been commanded to extirpate the nations

of Canaan, pursued their conquests for some time, they gradually relapsed

into a neglectful inactivity, permitting the inhabitants of the land to

remain in tributary subjection. Whatever personal objections they might

feel, and whatever apparent contrariety there might have been between

their views of strict justice and the explicit directions of Heaven, they

were bound to execute the divine will with a prompt unhesitating

compliance. If general rules of conduct were not perfectly superseded by

the paramount authority of an express direction from God, the great

principle of positive institutions would he annulled, and the prejudices,

passions, and misconceptions of a fallible creature, might, in certain

cases, interfere with the acts of supreme legislation. Though, to

strengthen the principle of obedience, and, as far as possible, to render

"a reasonable service," it may often be proper to inquire "_why_--" such

is our present incapacity, or so profound and vast the mysteries of divine

administration, that in general our inquiries must be limited to the great

question, "_what_--is enjoined?" His conduct does not require our

vindication, while his commands claim our obedience.

Nor does a rebellious spirit merely incur censure; it inevitably exposes

to punishment. The people upon whom Israel neglected to execute the

purposes of Infinite Justice, became, according to prophetic intimations,

"snares and traps to seduce them to idolatry," and "scourges in their

sides, and thorns in their eyes." They were in subjection eight years to

Cushan, king of Mesopotamia, till judges, of whom Othniel was the first,

and Samuel the last, were raised up for their deliverance.

After the signal interference of Heaven on their behalf, in the successes

of their first judge, which terminated in a peace of forty years, the

"children of Israel did evil again in the sight of the Lord, and the Lord

strengthened Eglon, the king of Moab; against Israel," by whom they were

enslaved eighteen years. After which, Ehud, a Benjamite, became their

deliverer, by assassinating the king of Moab, and another peaceful

interval of eighty years elapsed: but such was the strange perversity of

this extraordinary nation, that they abused their prosperity, and again

apostatized from God. Nor will it be difficult or unprofitable to trace in

ourselves some striking points of resemblance to them, and in the divine

conduct that same character of love and forbearance which marks his

dispensations to his church in all the successive ages of time, "They were

disobedient, and rebelled against thee, and cast thy law behind their

backs, and slew thy prophets which testified against them to turn them to

thee; and they wrought great provocations. Therefore thou deliveredst them

into the hand of their enemies, who vexed them: and in the time of their

trouble, when they cried unto thee, thou hearedst them from heaven; and

according to thy manifold mercies thou gavest them saviours who saved them

out of the hand of their enemies. But after they had rest, they did evil

again before thee; therefore leftest thou them in the hand of their

enemies, so that they had the dominion over them; yet when they returned

and cried unto thee, thou hearedst them from heaven, and many times didst

thou deliver them according to thy mercies; and testifiedst against them,

that thou mightest bring them again unto thy law: yet they dealt proudly,

and hearkened not unto thy commandments, but sinned against thy judgments,

(which, if a man do, he shall live in them,) and withdrew the shoulder,

and hardened their neck, and would not hear: yet many years didst thou

forbear them, and testifiedst against them by thy spirit in thy prophets:

yet would they not give ear; therefore gavest thou them into the hand of

the people of the lands. Nevertheless, for thy great mercies' sake, thou

didst not utterly consume them, nor forsake them; for thou art a gracious

and merciful God."

Jabin, king of Canaan, was raised up by Providence to disturb that long

period of national tranquillity already adverted to, during which the

religious character of Israel had so much degenerated: and it must be

admitted to evince the unfailing regard of their divine Protector, rather

to inflict corrective chastisement upon his people, than to suffer them to

proceed with unchecked eagerness in a course fatally injurious to their

real interests. In every individual concern shall we not gratefully

confess, that "whom the Lord loveth--he chasteneth, and scourgeth every

son whom he, receiveth?"

[Sidenote: Year before Christ, 1805 to 1235]

Jabin is said to have reigned in Hazor, a place situated, according to

Josephus, in the tribe of Naphtali, on the lake Semechon. Joshua had

reduced this place to ashes, and slew its former sovereign; but, probably,

the present prince had availed himself of the criminal indolence of the

Israelites to rebuild it. The captain of Jabin's army was Sisera, who was

truly formidable; having, according to the inspired historian, nine

hundred chariots of iron. This, for a petty prince of Canaan, was a most

extraordinary force, by which Israel was kept under tyrannical domination

for twenty years. Ardent cries were presented to Heaven in these critical

circumstances; and he whose ears are ever open to the cries of the

distressed, interposed by raising up an illustrious female to accomplish

the plans of mercy. "And DEBORAH, a prophetess, the wife of Lapidoth, she

judged Israel at that time." As no prophet is mentioned in Israel during

their defection, this was a signal testimony of the divine favour upon

their repentance; and while observing that out of the millions of Israel a

woman was chosen to execute the great purposes of Heaven, we cannot but

admire the inscrutable wisdom that appoints all persons to their stations,

qualifies all agents for their particular instrumentality, and regulates

all the movements of this lower world. Not a sparrow falls to the ground,

nor an angel wings his flight, but in subserviency to the arrangements of

an omniscient mind.

Deborah was a judge, as well as a prophetess; and a ruler over some, if

not all their tribes. Some have supposed, that judges among the ancient

Israelites resembled the Archons among the Athenians, and the Dictators

among the Romans. The office was not hereditary, but conferred for life;

and seems to have been considerably allied, although somewhat inferior, to

royal authority.

We are struck with the simplicity of the age in which this prophetess and

judge of Israel is represented as sitting under a palm-tree, to discharge

her public and eminently important duties. It was between Rama and Bethel,

in mount Ephraim. The subject is curious and interesting; we may,

therefore, enter into some particulars.

The palm, or date-tree, is a native of Africa and the East, where it grows

to the height of fifty or sixty, and occasionally a hundred feet. A

cluster of branches issues from the top of it, eight or nine feet long,

bending towards the earth, and extending all round in the form of an

umbrella. The trunk is upright, and full of cavities, the vestiges of its

decayed leaves, having a flat surface within, adapted to the human foot,

and forming a kind of natural ladder, by which a person may easily ascend

to the top. The lower part produces a number of stalks or suckers, which

diffuse the tree considerably, and form a kind of bushy forest. This

illustrates the scriptural term in the history of Deborah. "She dwelt

under the _palm-tree_;" or, as it might be rendered, _in a forest of

palms_. This tree was very common in Palestine. It abounded along the

banks of Jordan, and particularly about Engeddi and Jericho; the latter

place is designated, in Scripture, _the city of palms_.

"The extensive importance of the date-tree," says Dr. Clarke, "is one of

the most curious objects to which a traveller can direct his attention. A

considerable part of the inhabitants of Egypt, of Arabia, and Persia,

subsist almost entirely upon its fruit. They boast also of its medicinal

virtues. Their camels feed upon the date stone. From the leaves they make

couches, baskets, bags, mats, and brushes; from the branches, cages for

their poultry, and fences for their gardens; from the fibres of the

boughs, thread, ropes, and rigging; from the sap is prepared a spirituous

liquor: and the body of the tree furnishes fuel: it is even said, that

from one variety of the palm-tree, the _Phoenix farinifera,_ meal has been

extracted, which is found among the fibres of the trunk, and has been used

for food." [23]

In the East, it is very common for persons to live in tents, either

entirely or during some of the most sultry seasons of the year. This was

the patriarchal mode, and persons of considerable distinction are

accustomed to pitch them for occasional residence. Mr. Harmer quotes Dr.

Pococke as speaking of a pleasant place not far from Aleppo, where he met

an Aga, who had a great entertainment there, accompanied with music under

tents. Maillet mentions tents as things of course, in an account he gives

of an Egyptian officer's taking the air with his lady in the neighbourhood

of Cairo; and Chardin says, that Tahmasp, the Persian monarch, used to

spend the winter at Casbin, and to retire in the summer three or four

leagues into the country, where he lived in tents at the foot of Mount

Alouvent, in a place abounding with cool springs and pleasant shades; and

that his successors lived after the same manner until the time of Abas the

Great, who removed his court to Ispahan. [24] It is sufficiently probable,

therefore, that Deborah pitched her tent during a considerable period of

the year, under some remarkable palm-tree which stood either alone, or in

a forest of palms. There, for the purpose of convenient shelter in a

sultry climate, and with primitive simplicity of mind and manners, she

received the children of Israel who came to her for judgment,

investigating their causes, and by her integrity and wisdom, promoting the

happiness of her illustrious nation. The homage which mere external pomp

compels is lighter than vanity, compared with that stirling solidity of

character which no less ministers to the general good than to the

individual's own reputation. He who rules over others, should aim to be

enthroned in their affections; and they whom Providence calls to obey,

should readily cherish, and, on all suitable occasions, express feelings

of respect for their appointed rulers.

As the supreme magistrate of Israel, Deborah sent to Barak, of whom we

know only that he was the son of Abinoam, and resided in Kedesh-Naphtali,

requiring him to take ten thousand men of the tribes of Naphtali and

Zebukin into the neighbourhood of mount Tabor; and, as a prophetess under

supernatural influence of immediate inspiration, she assured him of the

most perfect success against the hostile prepartions of Sisera. He was

not only warranted to anticipate a decisive victory, but also the

destruction of this celebrated general, of whom it was expressly affirmed

that he should be "delivered into his hand."

It is not necessary to inquire by what particular means this divine

intimation of success was communicated to the prophetess of Israel,

whither by an audible voice, a nocturnal vision, an angelic messenger, or

a secret impression; suffice it to know, that the great Disposer of human

destiny has often adopted some and all of these methods to disclose the

scenes of futurity to the mind, in proof that he is not only the ruler of

nations, but the guardian of his church. Though he permit the rod to smite

his people, it shall he broken in pieces whenever it has accomplished its

work. On the present occasion, it was revealed to Deborah, that in the

ensuing conflict Israel should certainly be victorious; and this

disclosure of the event might be kindly intended to revive the desponding

feelings of the pious part of the community under circumstances of painful

depression. We are not authorized to anticipate, in our individual or

national calamities, such a miraculous discovery, nor ought we to repine

at the concealment of future events; but of this we may rest assured, if

indeed the people of God, and the "called according to his purpose," the

hostility of our worst enemies cannot eventually injure us--the "Captain

of our salvation" will conduct, us to triumph--and the standard of victory

shall be planted upon the graves of our foes.

Barak, it seems, started some objection to the message of Deborah,

alleging, "If thou wilt go with me, then I will go; but if thou wilt not

go with me, then I will not go." This extraordinary reply may, perhaps, be

explained, by supposing it to be the language of that modesty which has so

often characterized the greatest of men; and which, it must be admitted,

is no less admirable than their most splendid achievements. Thus when the

angel of the Lord appeared to Moses, announcing a divine commission to go

to Pharaoh, and bring the children of Israel out of Egyptian servitude, he

replied, "Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh?" and, during a

long-continued conference, he stated a variety of difficulties, and

manifested a degree of reluctance that excites astonishment. We are ready

to charge him with an infatuation bordering upon insolence and

presumption; nor, upon a first perusal, should we wonder to find him

smitten to the earth for his strange hesitation and timidity; but a closer

inspection of the narrative will convince us, that his reluctance, and

apparent refusal, ought not to be attributed to any unwillingness to

engage in the service of God, with a view of promoting his glory in the

earth, but to a consciousness of his personal unworthiness. His objection

was less to the _work_, than to _himself_; he did not so much tremble

because _that_ was arduous, as because _he_ was, in his own apprehension,

_unfit_. This was a feeling, however, which, under the circumstances of

his call, we cannot vindicate; for, to say the least, it was excessive.

Whatever estimate Moses in the one case, or Barak in the other, might have

formed of themselves, the divine will ought to have been considered the

only rule of action. We must never shrink from the course to which

Providence calls us--allowing God, who cannot err, to choose his own

instruments; and feeling that he who _commands_ can _enable_ us to perform

the most arduous duties.

Animated by a zeal which nothing could repress, Deborah instantly complied

with the condition upon which Barak proposed to engage in the war. In

language expressive of an unconquerable heroism, a masculine energy of

character and a devoted patriotism of spirit, she sent him word, "I will

surely go with thee;" but accompanied this message with an intimation,

that the honour of this exploit would in part at least attach to a woman,

whom Providence had selected to execute the purposes of heaven upon

Sisera. The little army being collected, the general and the prophetess

hastened to the field of battle, anxious to revenge the wrongs of their

insulted country, and to emancipate her enslaved provinces. A patriotism

inspired _her_ breast, and probably by this time animated _his_, which was

kindled by a fire from heaven, which roused into vigorous action all the

respective talents, and energies of their nature; and which, urging them

forward to righteous war, a war against impiety and oppression, undertaken

in the fear, and to promote the glory, of God, excited them to march to an

anticipated victory.

Under these circumstances, it is as much to the honour of Barak, that he

wished for the presence of the prophetess. Heroes are seldom anxious for

the observant eye of piety to watch their movements, and to penetrate

their camps. Alas! those whom we admire as the defenders of our country,

we weep over as the corrupters of our morals; and too often the page which

celebrates their prowess, is stained with the record of their rapacity.

But, however unwelcome an attendant, let them remember that an omniscient

eye witnesses both their private transactions, and their public career.

It is no less honourable to the character of this illustrious heroine and

female head of Israel, that so far from cherishing any petty jealousies of

Barak, and aiming at a monopoly of the reputation likely to result from

the present undertaking, she assigned to him the post of honour, and

contented herself with becoming his adviser. The superiority of her mind

induced her to seek an inferiority of station; anxious only to ensure

success, not to gain applause; to be approved of God, not to be altered of

man. Happy would it be for us all in our respective stations, whether

elevated by opulence or depressed by poverty, were we constantly

influenced by a similar principle. Then should we be stimulated to the

noblest duties, and fulfil the solemn injunction of our God and Saviour,

"Occupy till I come."

Sisera, the captain of the Canaanitish army, having been informed of the

movements of Israel, gathered together all his nine hundred chariots of

iron, and encamped between Harosheth and the river Kishon. This hostile

force, stretching along the circumjacent valley of mount Tabor, must have

presented a formidable appearance; and it would not have been surprising,

if even veteran troops, whose scared bosoms proclaimed their unretreating

hardihood in battle, had been appalled to meet so mighty a preparation

with only ten thousand men. But the spirit of a weak woman, when sustained

by the living God, shall brave every danger. Faith shall triumph over

fear, and the sword shall follow and fulfil prophetic inspirations. "Up,"

said Deborah to Barak, "for this is the day in which the Lord hath

delivered Sisera into thine hand; is not the Lord gone out before thee?"

If from this spirited appeal, it might be unjust to the military character

of Barak, to cherish a suspicion that he manifested some degree of

reluctance to attack the army of Sisera, overawed by his numerical

superiority, we cannot help perceiving the wisdom and promptitude which

actuated the conduct of Deborah. She had an eye to discern, and a courage

to seize, an important crisis. But what most claims our admiration is, an

incessant reference to Providence, which marks all her words and actions.

Nothing of that boastful language, which indicates an arrogant mind

escaped her lips. She evinced no self-adulation, and no undue dependence

upon human resources. How many in similar circumstances, would have vushed

forward to disproportionate battle with a blind impetuosity, trusting to

_chance_, for the result: or, inspired alone by personal hatred against

the foe, and a thirst for renown, would have hastened to conquer or to

die! From our earliest days we have been taught to admire the heroes of

classical story, and have followed with acclamations the conquerors of

later ages, who seem to have rivalled the fame of a Themistocles or a

Leonidas, and to have reacted the tragical sublimities of Salamis and

Thermopylæ; but, in the present history, we see piety clad in the armour

of heroism--the achievements of military valour ascribed solely to the

higher cause of a divine superintendence--"The LORD hath delivered Sisera

into thine hand; is not the LORD gone out before thee?"

Without detracting however from the military genius of Barak, or ascribing

an undue pre-eminence to Deborah, it may be readily believed, that so

disproportionate a force as that of the Israelites at first acted, and

very properly acted, on the defensive, till a favourable conjunction of

circumstances occurred; and, perhaps, some miraculous sign, or some divine

inspiration on the mind of the prophetess, suggested the moment of attack.

[25] It is in fact impossible to determine with any precision where human

skill ceased to operate, and where divine interposition commenced; and so

imperfect is our present acquaintance with the laws by which spirit and

matter are connected, that our speculations will certainly be fruitless,

and may therefore be pronounced unwise. Let us be grateful, that _the

fact_ of divine operation on the human mind is fully ascertained, and by

every sincere Christian pleasingly experienced; and that, though "all the

Lord's people" are not "prophets," the language of kind encouragement can

never be expunged from the sacred page, "If ye being evil know how to give

good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father

give THE HOLT SPIRIT to them that ask him?"

In obedience to the orders of Deborah, Barak immediately put his little

band of intrepid warriors in motion. The result was such, as under these

circumstances might, however astonishing, have been reasonably expected;

for "if God be for us, who can be against us?" The mighty hosts of Canaan,

amounting, according to the estimate of Josephus, to three hundred

thousand foot, and ten thousand horse, vanished before the valiant arm of

Israel, nerved as it was by an energy from heaven. Barak poured the

irresistible torrent of war upon his presumptuous foes, and swept

them away.

Josephus states, that "when they were come to a close fight, there came

down from heaven a great storm, with a vast quantity of rain and hail; and

the wind blew the rain in the face of the Canaanites, and so darkened

their eyes, that their arrows and slings were of no advantage to them; nor

would the coldness of the air permit the soldiers, to make use of their

swords; while this storm did not so much incommode the Israelites, because

it came in their backs. They also took such courage upon the apprehension

that God was assisting them, that they fell upon the very midst of their

enemies, and slew a great number of them. So that some of them fell by the

Israelites, some fell by their own horses, which were put into disorder,

and not a few were killed by their own chariots."

Scarcely does the history of the world furnish an example of so complete a

victory, accompanied by so utter an annihilation of the enemy. Curiosity

might wish to trace the various movements of that memorable day, the plan

of battle, the occasion of defeat, the exploits of individual heroes, and

a thousand other circumstances, with which fancy often decorates the head

of the hero, and amplifies the page of the historian; but with a majestic

simplicity so eminently characteristic of the sacred narrative, it is

stated that "the Lord discomfited Sisera, and all his chariots, and all

his host, with the edge of the sword, before Barak; so that Sisera lighted

down off his chariot, and fled away on his feet. But Barak pursued after

the chariots, and after the host, unto Harosheth of the Gentiles: and all

the host of Sisera fell upon the edge of the sword; and there was not a

man left." Who will compare with this simple record the language of

Cæsar, though so often celebrated, "_Veni, vidi, vici_--I came, I saw, I

conquered;" words at least as remarkable for egotism as for laconic force:

or who would represent the battle of _Zela_, and the defeat of the

_Pharnaces_ as worthy of being named in connection with the memorable

victory of Tabor.

Sisera, defeated, dispirited, and alone, fled to the tent of Jael, the

wife of Heber the Kenite, a family which was at this time at peace with

the king of Canaan. It was an additional reason to hope for security from

the enemy's pursuit, that the custom of the country interdicted intrusion

of all strangers into the woman's apartment. Jael moreover went forth to

invite this defeated general under her protection, and encouraged him to

expect every attention that humanity could dictate in this moment of

extremity. No wonder he resigned himself with a fearless confidence to her

care, and prepared to seek in "balmy sleep" an oblivion of all his

distractions. She furnishes him with a refreshing draught of milk, though

he only requested water; covers him with a mantle, and undertakes to guard

him from all unwelcome intrusion, by standing at the door of the tent, to

answer the interrogatories of any inquisitive stranger. But no sooner did

he drop into a sound sleep, than, seizing upon the first weapons that her

situation afforded, a nail and a hammer, and approaching softly to the

unconscious general, she drove the nail into his temple, and transfixed

him to the ground. Hastening from her tent, in the transport of success,

to meet Barak, who was in eager pursuit, she conducted, him to the corpse

of his prostrate foe. "So God subdued on that day, Jabin, the king of

Canaan, before the children of Israel."

Let us dismiss Jael, for the present, from our meditations, and offer a

reflection or two on the fate of Sisera.

I. No event recorded upon the page of history is more calculated to

impress upon our minds the assertion of Solomon, than that to which we

have just given our attention: "The race is not to the swift, nor the

battle to the strong ... for man also knoweth not his time, as the fishes

that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the

snare; so ere the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth

suddenly upon them." Nothing could have been more improbable, according to

human calculations, than the result of this extraordinary battle. Who that

had seen the far-stretching troops of the king of Canaan overspreading,

like a vast inundation, the vicinity of Kishon and Harosheth, whose

polished armour glittered along the valley to the rising sun, accustomed

to victory, breathing revenge, and headed by the most distinguished

general of the age--who that had viewed their prodigious forces,

consisting of infantry and cavalry, in contrast with the diminutive

strength and contemptible numbers of the Israelitish army, but must have

considered the attack as the feeble effort of an unaccountable

infatuation? But though HE who "sitteth upon the circle of the earth,"

could have interposed at once to crush the foe by the thunder of his

power, ten thousand men of Israel were appointed to execute his purpose

against the devoted Canaanites, to show that it is his will to work by

human means;--he required the employment of _only_ ten thousand, to

prove that all human skill and success is mere instrumentality, and that

the honour of victory is to be attributed to the God of battles.

2. The enemies of God and his people shall perish ingloriously. This is

not the only instance. Pharaoh makes ready his own chariot, and takes with

him all the chariots of Egypt, in eager pursuit of Israel, just escaped

from his relentless oppression. In the pride of his strength he proclaims,

"I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil, my lust shall be

satisfied upon them--I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them;"

but there was an arm of superior might that seized the unresisting

elements, and launched them upon the rash adventurer and his guilty

myriads. "Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them; they sank

as lead in the mighty waters. Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the

gods?"--Sennacherib, king of Assyria, sends Tartan, and Rabsaris, and

Rabshakeh, with a great host against Jerusalem, in the reign of Hezekiah.

Mark their insolent blasphemy: "Hearken not unto Hezekiah when he

persuadeth you, saying, The Lord will deliver us. Hath any of the gods of

the nations delivered at all his land out of the hand of the king of

Assyria? Where are the gods of Hamath and of Arpad? where are the gods of

Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivah? have they delivered Samaria out of mine hand?

Who are they among all the gods of the countries that have delivered their

country out of mine hand, that the Lord should deliver Jerusalem out of

mine hand?" A letter was afterward sent to the king to the same effect,

commencing with this blasphemous sentence, "Let not thy God, in whom thou

trustest, deceive thee." Hezekiah instantly repairs to the temple, opens

his letter in the immediate presence of the Eternal, and supplicates his

great name for that interference in the present extremity, which would

deliver his people, and promote his own glory. His prayer is heard. From

the heaven of heavens an angelic envoy is despatched to the Assyrian

encampment, and with the flaming sword of almighty indignation, smites _a

hundred and eighty-five thousand_ of the boasting foe; "and when they

arose early in the morning, behold they were all dead corpses." Herod

ventures upon the dangerous experiment of persecuting the church of God:

he dares, with an untrembling hand, to put James to the sword, and

ultimately imprison Peter for the same horrid purpose: but he who "sitteth

in the heavens" held the presumptuous criminal in "utter derision,"

despatched an angel to break off the chains by which his servant was

bound, and laid his finger upon the royal rebel to extinguish his glory

and his pride for ever; "he was eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost."

Ah! the immortality of the soul elevates it above mortal power, and the

utmost that a persecutor can do is, by a painful stroke, to put a

Christian into speedier possession of his promised blessedness. "A tyrant

is mortal, his empire expires with his life; and were he to employ the

whole course of his life in tormenting a martyr, and in trying to impair

his felicity, he would resemble an idiot throwing stones at the lightning,

while in an indivisible moment, and with as inconceivable rapidity, it

caught his eye as it passed from the east to the west."

"Thou dull stupid man, who art not stricken with the idea of a God, whose

will is self-efficient, and who alone can act immediately on an immaterial

soul, come and behold some sensible proofs of that infinite power, of

which metaphysical proofs can give thee no idea! And thou, proud insolent

man! go aboard the last-built vessel, put out to sea, set the most

vigilant watch, surround thyself with the most formidable instruments:

what art thou, when God uttereth his voice?' What art thou, when the

'noise' resounds? What art thou, when torrents of rain seem to threaten a

second deluge, and to make the globe which thou inhabitest one rolling

sea? What art thou when lightnings emit their terrible flashes? What art

thou when the 'winds' come roaring 'out of their treasures?' What art thou

_then_? Verily, thou art no less than thou wast in thy palace. Thou art no

less than when thou wast sitting at a delicious table. Thou art no less

than thou wast when every thing contributed to thy pleasure. Thou art no

less than when at the head of thine army, thou wast the terror of nations,

shaking the earth with the stunning noise of thy warlike instruments: for,

at thy festal board, within thy palace, among thy pleasures, at the head

of thine armies, thou wast _nothing_ before the King of nations. As an

immaterial and immortal creature, thou art subject to his immediate power;

but, to humble and to confound thee, he must manifest himself to thee in

sensible objects. Behold him, then, in this formidable situation: try thy

power against his: silence 'the noise of the multitude of waters:' fasten

the vessel that 'reeleth like a drunken man;' smooth the foaming waves

that 'mount thee up to heaven;' fill up the horrible gulfs whither thou

goest 'down to the bottoms of the mountains;' dissipate the lightning that

flasheth in thy face; hush the bellowing thunders; confine the winds in

their caverns; assuage the anguish of thy soul, and prevent its melting

and exhaling with fear. How diminutive is man! How many ways hath God to

confound his pride! He uttereth his voice, and there is a noise of a

multitude of waters in the heavens. He causeth the vapours to ascend from

the ends of the earth. He maketh lightnings with rain, and bringeth forth

the wind out of his treasures. Who would 'not fear thee, O King

of nations?"

It is necessary, however, to remark, that we are not authorized always to

expect the strict exercise of retributive justice in the present state.

Some remarkable visitations have, in all periods, roused the attention of

an astonished world, and powerfully appealed to the understanding of men,

in vindication of the character, and in proof of the existence, of a

superintending Providence. Tyrants have been hurled from their thrones,

empires uprooted from their foundations, and the "poor set on high from

oppression;" but these dispensations have not been regular, nor can they

be calculated upon as certain, or in general, perhaps, as probable. They

have been sufficiently numerous to indicate an observant though invisible

eye fixed upon human affairs; but not so frequent as to supersede the

Christian's anticipations of a day of final and impartial judgment. The

present may indeed be considered rather as a time of permitted, confusion,

the period of moral chaos, in which the elements of a new creation

exists, but in a disorganized state; in which the principles of depraved

human nature are permitted to develope themselves, and human passions are

suffered to act in an ample field of exertion with comparatively little

control, and for the purpose of ultimately promoting the glory of God.

Hereafter "the morning stars" will "sing together," and all "the sons of

God" again "shout for joy," when "all things that offend shall be gathered

out of his kingdom," when sinners shall be everlastingly degraded, Christ

for ever exalted, the most mysterious dispensations shine with transparent

brightness in the light of eternity, and the unfading paradise of the

saints bloom amidst the wrecks of time.

3. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may

bring forth." Little did Sisera imagine the fatal reverses he was destined

to suffer, when in all the pride of fancied superiority, sustained by the

recollection of the successes of twenty years, he made his arrangements

for the battle with Barak and Deborah. What a contrast between the moment

of confident preparation, and that of disgraceful retreat! What a mighty

and unexpected contrast between the high-spirited general at the head of

his army, and the trembling fugitive hiding himself in a tent, and slain

by a woman.

Let us apply the reflection to ourselves. How often do we form our

schemes, and calculate on temporal prosperities, without any due regard to

the will of Providence, or any proper consideration of the uncertainty of

life. "We live without God in the world," an omniscient Deity has no

existence in our minds, and we inquire "Who will show us any good?" as if

God were not the chief good, or could not supply our happiness.

Alas! how often have we boasted of to-morrow by neglecting, in a

religious sense, the most important business of to-day. It is not easy to

imagine a more dangerous state of mind, than that of a person, whose

resolutions of repentance and amendment all respect futurity, because he

makes these very resolutions an excuse for his negligences, and even

considers them as an expiation of the guilt of his procrastinating temper.

It is indeed an affecting thought, that so thick a mist surrounds us, we

are not only unacquainted with the events of YEARS to come, we do not know

what a DAY may bring forth. It may produce a change in our

circumstances--our faculties--our friendships--our hopes.--An hour--a

moment, may waft us from time into eternity! "Now," then, "is the accepted

time, behold, NOW is the day of salvation."--"Seek the Lord while he may

be found, call ye upon him while he is near."

4. Mount TABOR has been repeatedly mentioned as the place where Deborah

directed that the forces of Zebulon and Naphtali should be concentrated,

and its immediate vicinity as the scene of the celebrated contest between

Barak and Sisera; but though it may appear a digression from the present

subject, it would be scarcely pardonable to omit a reference to that still

more wonderful circumstance, the transfiguration of Jesus Christ, which

probability and tradition concur in assigning to the same remarkable spot.

Three of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, accompanied him to this

mountain, where two bright spirits from among the glorified saints, Moses

and Elias, descended to join their society. Delightful pledge of that

inseparable union which will one day take place upon the summits of

immortality, when "the general assembly and church of the first-born"

shall associate together in the realms of bliss!

"O happy, happy company,

Where men and heavenly spirits greet,

And those whom death hath severed meet,

And hold again communion sweet;

O happy, happy company!"

What though death at present divides them, and while some of this glorious

family have reached their destined habitation, others are left on earth to

struggle with the calamities of life; the separation is but temporary, and

will serve to heighten the raptures of union, when they shall come from

the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, and sit

down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God.