The messenger of peace!
Once more her tears forget to flow,
Once more her sorrows cease.
Life, strength, and freedom now are given
With mighty power to one
Who from his father's roof was driven,
And he--the outcast's son.
How often we, like Hagar, mourn,
When some unlook'd for blight
Drives us away, no more to turn
To joys we fancied bright!
Forced from our idols to retreat,
And seek the Almighty's care,
Perchance we are sent forth to meet
A desert-angel there.
[Illustration]
THE PARTIAL AND INTRIGUING MOTHER--REBEKAH.
[Illustration]
After the departure of Hagar and her son from the tents of Abraham,
peace seems to have returned, and it became the abode of filial and
parental as well as of conjugal affection. Sarah's days were still
prolonged, that she might exercise the duties and enjoy the pleasures of
a mother.
The heir of wealth, and the child of love and indulgence, the character
of Isaac seems to have been the reverse of his brother, the restless,
wandering Ishmael. The one, cast off from the care of the father and
taught to rely upon his own energies, early distinguished himself, and
became the leader of a band, and a prince among the nations around;
while the other, cherished and cared for, was content to dwell in the
peaceful enjoyment of wealth and prosperity. Thus do we find that trials
are necessary to develope the higher qualities and to call them into
action. The truly great and noble, the eminent in talent or usefulness,
are never nursed in the bosom of ease.
Sarah died; and while the bereaved husband felt his loss, the son could
not have been insensible. There was a dreary void in the home of the
patriarch when the wife and the mother had been laid in the sepulchre.
There was no one to fill the place of Sarah--no one to bless their
simple meals. She no longer appears to welcome them as they returned
from the field or the flock. The tribe is without a mother, the
household without a mistress. Many considerations led Abraham to desire
the marriage of his son, and he cast around his thoughts for a wife
worthy of being the mother of the promised seed, and one who could well
fulfil the duties which must devolve upon her as the head of his large
household. The people around him would have courted his alliance, and as
yet no command from God forbade his forming family ties with the
inhabitants of the land. But Abraham too well knew the influence of the
wife and the mother, to choose a wife for the child of promise from a
race apostate from the religion of Jehovah. He knew the ensnaring
influence which would there be brought to bear upon his family, and he
resolved to seek a wife for Isaac among his far-distant kindred--those
who yet retained the knowledge and clung to the worship of the God of
Shem, of Noah, and of Adam. Though far separated from his brethren, yet
communications seem to have passed, and Abraham had been told of the
enlargement of the family of his brother; and he resolved, not only to
seek a wife for his son from among his own kindred, but, while making
arrangements for such a marriage, he solemnly guarded against the return
of his descendants to the land from whence he had been called.
Trying as might be the long journey, and uncertain as seemed the issue,
no inferior motives were allowed to be put in competition with the
perpetuity of the worship and knowledge of God. A connection with any of
the families of the Canaanites would have been at once ensnaring to the
household of Abraham and injurious in its influence upon the heart of
Isaac. Had Isaac married the daughter of an idolater, irreligion and
immorality would soon have pervaded the family of the patriarch, and
the knowledge of the true God have departed from the earth. Thus the
beacon light of nations had been extinguished, and the last altar
erected to Jehovah had been broken down: for the other descendants of
Shem were fast departing from the God of their fathers,--and if the
children of Keturah and Ishmael for a period retained the faith of
Abraham, the torch which kindled the fire on their altars was lighted at
that which was kept burning on those of Isaac and Jacob, and the example
of their families preserved alive the remembrance and the acts of the
living God in the nations around them.
With a train which became the suitor of a prince, with costly presents
of gold and ornaments according to the custom of both ancient and modern
days, but more particularly conforming to Eastern usage, the
confidential servant of Abraham was sent on his embassy to the kindred
of his master, there to receive a bride for the son of the patriarch. We
gain a delightful impression both of the piety and intelligence of the
household of Abraham from the account of the messenger to whom this
important transaction was intrusted. The faith of the patriarch animated
the other members of his household, and a strong chain of love encircled
all. After a long journey, the train reached the plains of Mesopotamia,
and then the tents of Nahor appeared in view; and then, in the prospect
of the immediate discharge of his commission, the messenger of the
patriarch sought explicit direction from the God of Abraham.
While the description of the interview at the fountain, "without the
gate of the city," gives a most beautiful view of the manners of the age
and the people, and an unsurpassed picture of the freshness and
simplicity of pastoral life, it proves at once the piety and the clear
discrimination of the agent employed. The beauty of the youthful Rebekah
caught his eye, while the test he devised afforded a safe criterion of
the character of the woman. Weary with the labours of the sultry day,
after tending her own flocks, had she been indolent or inactive, selfish
or sullen, she had turned from his request, and suffered his attendants
to administer to his wants. But as she looked upon them--dusty, weary,
parched by thirst, worn down by long travel--the sympathies of a kind
nature were awakened, as the servant ran to meet her, saying, "Let me, I
pray thee, drink a little water from thy pitcher." She said, "Drink, my
lord," and she let down the pitcher upon her hand and gave him to drink;
and when he had done drinking, she said, "I will draw water for thy
camels also, until they have done drinking." Thus did the maiden clearly
prove that she possessed some of the qualities most necessary for a
wife--that ready self-forgetfulness, that kindness, cheerfulness, and
desire to promote the happiness of others, that sunshine of the heart
which sheds its brightening beams over all the clouds that darken
domestic life. Through all the ages of the world, in all the
circumstances in which mankind are placed, the wife has ever need of
them, and wisely may the suitor look for them. But the servant of the
patriarch, "still wondering, held his peace." Not until assured that she
was of the race of the true worshippers of the God of Abraham, that she
had been trained in the fear of the Lord, did he feel assured that the
fair and kind Syrian damsel was to be chosen for the wife of his
master's son. He had felt that the prayer was answered. He had taken out
the rich gifts intended for her, but he seems to hesitate as he says,
"Whose daughter art thou! Tell me, I pray thee, is there room in thy
father's house for us to lodge in?" And she answered, "I am the daughter
of Bethuel, the son of Milcah, whom she bore unto Nahor."
"And the man bowed down and worshipped the Lord, and he said, Blessed be
the Lord God of my master Abraham, who hath not left destitute my master
of his mercy and his truth. I being in the way, the Lord hath led me to
the house of my master's brethren."
The negotiation between the servant of Abraham and the father and
brothers of Rebekah was soon concluded. They deferred not the answer to
be given, when the messenger had laid before them his errand, and told
them of the wealth and honour of his master; and the whole transaction
impresses us with an idea of the piety and kindness of the family of
Bethuel.
The thing is from the Lord--while the rich gifts, made to all the
members of the family, proved the truth of the statements of the
messenger, and perhaps enforced his plea. Yet, when he urged the
immediate departure of the bride for the tent of her husband, the hearts
of the mother and of the brothers yet clung to the youthful maiden. They
shrank from a separation so sudden, so complete--and they said, Let the
damsel stay with us a few days--at least ten. Oh, do not snatch her away
from us so suddenly. But after that, she shall go.
And he said, "Hinder me not. Seeing that the Lord hath prospered me,
send me away that I may go to my master." And they said, "We will call
the maiden, and inquire at her mouth." And they called Rebekah, and said
unto her, "Wilt thou go with this man?" And she said, "I will go."
Are we not, even at this period, taught lessons of parental wisdom, in
the care displayed by the ancient patriarch respecting the choice of a
wife for his son? In the care taken to secure an unstained parentage in
one who had been early trained in the habits of piety and godly
principles of action? The character of the family is often stamped upon
each member, and the marked features are transmitted from generation to
generation, even where the character of the woman may be modified by her
new relations. As she advances in years she often returns to the habits
of her youth, while she almost invariably adopts the practice of her own
mother in the early nurture and training of her children.
He who would have reformed France was taught that he must begin his work
by training mothers. And thus the ancient patriarch foresaw that the
great nation that was to descend from him, like to the stars of heaven
for multitude, would long bear the impress of the character of the
mother who rocked it in the first cradle of its existence, and his
wisdom was manifested in the pains which he took to secure a good
lineage and right habits and principles. The foresight of the father
could go no farther. Time must test the individual character.
After they left the tents of Bethuel, the train, now augmented by the
presence of the bride and her immediate attendants, her nurse and
handmaids, slowly wended its way back to the tents of the patriarch,
pursuing the natural highways of the country,--now by the stream, then
across the plain, then through the desert, sandy, barren, trackless;
then winding through the mountain pass, encamping during the heat of the
day by the fountain and under the shade, and pursuing their journey in
the cool of the evening and of the morning.
Love or devotion, or the mingling of both, led Isaac out into the fields
at eventide to meditate, and his feet turned towards the route by which
his messengers might be expected, and the eye of his servant descried
him afar off, and he pointed him out to the stranger. And while the
messenger seems to have hasted to meet his master and give an account of
his mission, Rebekah descended from her lofty seat and covered herself
with a veil.
Henry the Fourth, of France, met his bride soon after she entered his
kingdom, and mingled with her attendants, that he might watch her
unobserved; and when his presence was announced she kneeled, and he
gracefully raised her up. Napoleon entered the carriage of his Austrian
bride, and announced himself, while she gazed with wondering eyes upon
one, long only known as the enemy of her father's house and the terror
of his kingdom. The meeting of the heir of the patriarch and his
youthful bride is quite as interesting a scene as any of those recorded
of more modern days.
And Isaac went out to meditate in the fields at eventide, and he lifted
up his eyes, and, behold! the camels were coming. And Rebekah lifted up
her eyes, and when she saw Isaac she lighted off the camel. For she had
said unto the servant, "What man is this that walketh in the field to
meet us?" And the servant said, "It is my master;" therefore she took a
veil and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all things that he
had done. And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took
Rebekah, and she became his wife, and he loved her.
Rebekah seems to have made an affectionate, happy wife. Many years
passed before children were born to Isaac; and when the twin boys, Esau
and Jacob, were in childhood, there was evidently a marked difference in
their characters. Esau was active, restless, and enterprising, He grew
up a hunter,--daring and bold,--loving a life of change and adventure;
while Jacob was a "plain man, dwelling in tents." Blindness was
stealing over Isaac and unfitting him for the cares which rested upon
him, for the supervision of his numerous servants and his many flocks
and herds. During the frequent absences of Esau upon his hunting
expeditions, these cares must have devolved upon Rebekah and Jacob. Her
heart clung to the child who was ever with her in sympathy; while the
tales of peril and adventure with which Esau enlivened the wearisome
days of his father, were as acceptable to blindness and loneliness, as
were the presents of the game he so frequently brought. "And Isaac loved
Esau." Thus the injudicious fondness of the parents sowed the seeds of
bitterness and alienation between the two brothers, and led to their
mutual estrangement. The birth-right, which implied the inheriting of
the blessing promised to the seed of Abraham, was despised by Esau,
who, doubtless, in his prolonged wanderings from home, and his frequent
associations with the inhabitants of the land, had been led to feel
contempt for the worship and the promises of God, and in his reckless
levity he transferred it to Jacob for "_a mess of pottage_," while he
further alienated himself from his parents and brother by marrying the
daughter of a Hittite. "This was a grief and sorrow of mind to Isaac and
Rebekah." Forgetting the respect due to them as his parents; forgetting
his own position as the eldest son of the heir of the promise; heedless
of the example of filial deference shown by Isaac, and of all the care
that preserved the family free from the corruption around them, he
formed an union with those who were strangers to the faith of Abraham
and of a race apostate from the worship of Jehovah. Yet, while mourning
the perverseness of his favourite child, the father, aged and blind,
did not propose to withdraw his favour from him; and, feeling that his
infirmities increased, Isaac bade Esau with his own hands prepare him a
favourite dish, that he might eat and bless him before his death. Did we
better understand the customs of that age, we might find that Isaac was
not merely influenced by bodily appetite, but that there might be a
peculiar significance in the act.
We do not love to dwell upon Rebekah's deceit and the lessons of
falsehood she taught her son--and the prophecy uttered before the birth
of the children, neither justifies nor extenuates her guilt; for God has
never taught his people, that to promote his plans they are to violate
his laws.
Alienated from her elder son, we see Rebekah, by intrigue and treachery,
seeking to advance the interests of the younger at the expense of the
rights of his brother. As we read the sacred narrative, every sympathy
is awakened in favour of the injured Esau, and we hear, with burning
indignation against the author of his wrong, his pathetic cry, "Hast
thou no blessing for me! Bless me, even me, my father!" But the artifice
of the mother and wife was successful. She secured all she sought--and
her success brought its own punishment. Dark clouds of hate settled over
the household, and Esau waited only for the death of his father that he
might destroy the life of his brother; and to save the life of her son,
the mother was forced to send him into banishment. Again the intriguing,
managing character of the mother appears. She assigned what might be a
reason, but not the true reason, to Isaac. "I am weary of my life,
because of the daughters of Heth. If Jacob takes a wife of the
daughters of Heth, such as these which are of the daughters of the land,
what good shall my life do me?" The plea of the mother prevailed, and
Isaac blessed Jacob, and he left the land of his father, ostensibly to
seek a wife, but in truth to flee from the vengeance of his brother.
The son of the wealthy patriarch went not out like an Eastern
suitor--not with a train such as Abraham sent when he wooed Rebekah for
his son. To avoid the hate of Esau, he stole like a fugitive from the
tents of Isaac; and, a foot-worn pilgrim, unattended, he sought the
kindred of his mother. And here the mother and her favourite child
parted. She had alienated his brother to promote his interests. She had
sacrificed her integrity to secure his fortune, and her plan had
succeeded. She had secured the object at which she had aimed, and yet in
the result she had been forced to send forth her darling child--a
homeless wanderer.
There is no reason to believe that the mother and the son ever met
again. From this time she disappears. Surrounded by the alienated Esau's
hated wives and ill-loved children, separated from the child of her
affection, she may have sunk into a premature grave, or she may have
lived many sorrowful years to feel the miseries she had drawn upon
herself by her violations of the rules of rectitude, and an eager desire
to promote the happiness of one child at the sacrifice of that of
another.
There are still too many families involved in all the bitterness of
domestic strife from the unjust partiality of one or both of the parents
for favoured children. If, as children advance in life and their
characters are formed, a calmer feeling succeeds the trembling
tenderness which guarded their infant days, and our love to them (as to
all other mortal beings) results from an appreciation of their
characters, so that one may awaken a purer regard than another, this
feeling is very different from that partial fondness which adopts one
and gives him a place in our affection to the exclusion of another. That
instinctive justice which compels a higher regard for the purer moral
worth, will, of itself, prevent that parental partiality which leads to
injustice or to an infringement of established rights and recognised
principles. An unjust parent presents one of the most revolting pictures
of human nature. The character involves a disregard of the most sacred
ties and the tenderest relations. And whoever exhibits parental
injustice, or that partial fondness which leads to injustice, at once
destroys the affections and violates the moral sense. Families trained
under such influences, still exhibit revolting scenes of human
depravity--of bitterness, strife, alienation and revenge. Who can tell
how much of the estrangement of Esau, and this early introduction of the
worship of strange gods among his descendants, may have been induced by
the conscious alienation of his mother, and the unjust preference of the
interests of his brother? Had Rebekah, with a mother's love, striven to
win her eldest son back to his father's tent and the altar of his
God--had she still respected his rights and preserved his regard by
undeviating truth and faithfulness, she would have retained a strong
hold upon him, and her influence might have been long felt by her
descendants, in restraining them from the sins of those around them.
We cannot yet part with the two principal actors in these sad scenes of
treachery and deceit. We think of Rebekah, the companion of her blind
husband--deprived of the son who had shared and alleviated her cares,
and conscious of having awakened that bitter hate which would seek the
blood of a brother--still following in her thoughts the footsteps of the
wandering Jacob, feeling that by her own intrigues she had banished him
from his home and her presence.
And we may follow Jacob, as he stole from the tents of Isaac, a wanderer
like the first fugitive, with his brother's curse upon him. Until this
hour all Jacob's views and feelings seem earthly and grovelling. Until
now, there has been no indication of that trust and piety which
afterwards marked his life. He had seemed worldly, cunning, ready to
snatch any personal advantage. From this period he seems to awaken to a
higher--a spiritual life. He seems to have comprehended the deeper
meaning of promise and prophecy. We cannot tell what remorseful and
despairing thoughts filled his soul as he left his home--how strange
and inexplicable may have seemed all the ways of God toward him. Yet he
must have felt that, in punishment of his deceit and falsehood, he was
thus sent forth with but his scrip and staff, while he left Esau to
inherit the possessions of his father.
He had wandered until he was faint and weary, and then he had lain
himself down on the earth, with stones for his pillow and the heavens
for the curtains of his tent. In the silence of the night his soul was
opened to spiritual revealings--to those influences from heaven which
marked the change in his future life. He _saw_ the angels of God
ascending and descending upon him. Often before this may they have
visited him--constantly may they have hovered over him--but now he was
made conscious of the presence, watch and interposition of the heavenly
intelligences of the higher presence of the God of Abraham. From this
hour we trace a different influence pervading the heart and life of
Jacob. He was awakened to higher motives--and from this hour he entered
into covenant with God, and took Him to be his God.
And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and said, "Surely the Lord is in this
place, and I knew it not;" and he was afraid, and said, "How dreadful is
this place! This is none other than the house of God--and this is the
gate of heaven." And Jacob rose up early in the morning, and took the
stone that he had put for his pillow, and set it for a pillar, and
poured oil upon the top of it. "And he called the name of that place
Bethel." And Jacob vowed a vow, saying "If God will be with me, and will
keep me in the way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment
to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace, then
shall the Lord be my God, and this stone, which I have set for a
pillar, shall be God's house, and of all that thou shalt give me I will
surely give the tenth unto thee."
The future life of Jacob was not free from the infirmity of human
purpose--the imperfection of human nature. Yet from this time he walked
with God, and all his deportment was marked by deep and humble piety. We
doubt not that at this period he passed through that transforming change
by which, in every age, and under every dispensation, the human soul has
been enabled to enter into the mysteries of the spiritual life and enjoy
communion with the Author of its existence, through that Spirit which
breathed the first breath of life by which man became a living soul.
[Illustration]
THE RIVAL SISTERS--LEAH AND RACHEL.
[Illustration]
There are two characters, which by some associations of memory, or
caprice of fancy, are ever blended in our recollections--the one of
ancient, the other of modern days--the one of sacred, the other of
profane history. Catharine of Arragon, the unloved consort of the King
of England, and Leah, the daughter of the Syrian shepherd, the hated
wife of the Hebrew patriarch. There may seem to be as little
assimilation of character and destiny, as there is of condition, between
the daughter and the wife of a Syrian shepherd, and the daughter of one
of the proudest monarchs of Spain and the wife of the haughtiest king of
England; but they were both women, and both wives of those who loved
them not; and this fact, whatever the condition of woman, stamps her lot
as one of wretchedness. The wife neglected and despised is a woman
sorrowful, whether she be the inmate of a tent or the dweller in a
palace--whether she tend the flock or grace the throne.