"A REED LIKE A ROD."
Events moved with startling rapidity. Events which, in the
swift-moving times of the last years of the nineteenth century, would
have occupied a decade to bring to pass, now occupied no more than the
same number of days. The revived Roman Empire was an established fact.
Moved by Satan, the ten kings had united to make Lucien Apleon their
Emperor. The nations, having cast off all belief in the orthodoxy of
the previous centuries, refusing to believe God's truth, utterly
scouting it, in fact, they had laid themselves open to receive
Anti-christ's lie, and had swallowed it wholesale.
Babylon had been rebuilt, and had become the _Commercial_ centre of the
reign of Lucien Apleon, even as Jerusalem was now to become his
religious centre.
Ralph Bastin was still Editor of the "Courier," though each week, each
day, in fact, he wondered if it would be his last of office, even as he
often wondered if he might not have to seal his testimony as a
God-inspired editor, with his blood, his life.
Already, all who, like himself, would live Godly, had to suffer bitter
persecution. Many of the Godly had been found mysteriously murdered,
and always the murders had been passed over by those who were in
authority.
Ralph was on the point of leaving his office for luncheon, (he always
lunched in the city,) when a visitor was announced.
"Rabbi Cohen, to see you, sir," announced Charley.
"Show him in at once," replied Ralph, and rising to his feet he went to
the door to meet his friend.
The Rabbi entered with a little eager run, and the two men grasped
hands heartily, their respective faces glowing with the gladness they
each felt.
As it had been with Tom Hammond and that other Cohen, the Jew, who had
shared in the translation of the Church, so with the Rabbi who was now
visiting Ralph, he had been drawn to call upon Ralph, in the first
place, because of his editorial espousal of the Jewish people and their
interests.
Between Ralph and the Rabbi, there had grown up a very strong
friendship, and though for some weeks, they had not met, each knew that
the other's friendship was as ever.
After a few ordinary exchanges between the pair, the Rabbi, suddenly
looked up eagerly, saying:
"I have come to say good-bye, to you, my friend, unless, by any
fortunate chance, I can persuade you to accompany me, or, at least,
follow me soon."
"Good-bye, Cohen?" cried Ralph, "Why--what--where are you going?"
"To Jerusalem, Bastin!" There was a curious ring of mixed pride and
gladness in the manner of his saying "Jerusalem."
"You know," he went on, "that we Cohens are the descendents of Aaron,
that we are of the priestly line. I am the head of our family, and my
people have chosen me as the _first_ High priest for our new Temple
worship."
Brimming with his subject, he spoke rapidly, enthusiastically: "The
Temple is to be formally opened on the tenth of September. The
tradition among my people, and handed down to us in many of our
writings is this, that the Great Temple of Solomon--opened in the
seventh month, as all our scriptures, yours as well as ours, say--was
dedicated and opened on a day corresponding with the modern tenth of
September. Our new Temple will be opened on the tenth of this month."
On entering the room he had laid a long, cylinder-shaped japanned roll
upon the table. This he now took up, took off the lid, and drew out a
roll of vellum. Unrolling the vellum, he held the wide sheet out
between his two outstretched hands, saying:
"I brought this on purpose for you to see, friend Bastin."
He smiled pleasantly as he added: "I expect you are the only Gentile
who has seen this finished drawing."
For a few moments both men were silent. Ralph was speechless from
amazement, the Rabbi from eager interest in watching his friend's amaze.
The "drawing," as the Rabbi had called it, was in reality a superb
painting of the most marvelous structure possible to conceive. The
bulk of the vellum surface was occupied with an enormous oblong
enclosure. The outer sides of the enclosure showing a most exquisite
marble terracing, the capping of the marble wall was of a wondrous
red-and-orange-veined dark green stone. The bronze gates were capped
and adorned with massive inlayings of gold and silver, while the floral
parts showed the colours of the precious stones used to produce each
separate coloured flower.
A huge altar, the ascent to which, on three of the sides was by flights
of wide steps, occupied the fore-part of the courtyard inside the gates
of the main entrance--there were five entrances, each with its own
gates. Two entrances on each side of the oblong enclosure, and one at
the courtyard end.
Beyond the altar was a huge brazen sea, resting upon the hind-quarters
of twelve bronze oxen. Beyond the brazen sea was the temple itself,
entered by a wide porch of wondrous marble, the pillars of which were
crowned with golden capitals of marvellous workmanship. The porch was
surmounted by a dome. Then came the temple proper, its form a square
above a square, the upper square surmounted by a huge dome, supported
upon columns similar to those found in the porch, and in the
base-square.
What the actual building must be like Ralph could not conceive! The
picture of it was a bewildering vision of almost inconceivable
loveliness.
Now and again he asked a question, the Rabbi, at his side, delighted
with his admiration, answering everything fully.
"What has your wonderful temple cost?" Ralph presently asked, as the
picture was being rolled up, and replaced in the japanned cylinder.
"Twenty million pounds, a full third of which has been spent upon
precious stones for studding the walls, and gates, and pillars!"
Ralph gasped in amaze. "Twenty--million--pounds!" He repeated the
words much after the manner of a man who, recovering from a swoon,
says, "Where--am--I?"
They talked together for a few moments of the _how_ of the financing of
such a costly undertaking. Then suddenly, Bastin faced his friend, a
rare wistfulness in his face and in his voice, as he said:
"I wish, dear Cohen, you, and your dear people could see how futile all
this work is! I do not want to hurt you by speaking of Jesus of
Nazareth. But suffer me to say this, that probably the only references
which God's word makes to this Temple of yours, are in Daniel xii. 11
and in the Christian New Testament, Matthew xxiv. Mark xiii 2, 2
Thessalonians ii 14, and Revelation xi 1, _and there it is mentioned in
connection with Judgment_. In the first verse of _our_ eleventh of
Revelation, the temple is to be measured, but it is with a reed _like a
rod_. Not the ordinary measuring reed, but like a _rod_, the symbol of
Judgment.
"And that, dear Cohen, will be the end of your beautiful temple--it
will be destroyed in Judgment, and soon--all too soon--it will be
cursed and defiled by the abomination of desolation of which your
beloved prophet Daniel speaks, in the twelfth chapter and the eleventh
verse."
With a sudden new eagerness, but as sad as he was eager, he said: "In
your extremity, and in your desire to be established in the land of
your fathers, you talk of making a seven years covenant with Lucien
Apleon, Emperor of the European confederacy?"
Cohen, evidently impressed by Ralph's manner, nodded an assent, but did
not speak.
"Oh, Cohen, my friend, my friend!" Ralph went on. "Would to God you
and your people had your eyes open to the true character of that man,
Lucien Apleon! If you had, you would see from your own prophets that
he was prophesied to be your foe. Remember Daniel nine, twenty-seven
(according to the modern chaptering and verses) "He shall confirm the
covenant with many for _one week_: (a week of years, of seven years)
and in the midst of the week (at the end of the first three and a half
years) he shall cause the sacrifice and the oblation to cease, and on
the battlements shall be the idols of the desolator."
Cohen's face was a picture of wondering amaze. Twice his lips parted
as though he would speak, but no sound came from them, and Ralph went
on:
"I could weep with very anguish of soul, dear friend, at all that you,
and every truly pious Jew will suffer; when, at the end of the three
years and a half ('the midst of the week') the foul fiend whom you are
all trusting so implicitly, will suddenly abolish your daily sacrifice
of the morning and evening lamb, and will set up an image of himself,
which you, and all the _Godly_ of your race, will refuse to worship.
Then will begin your awful tribulation, 'the time of Jacob's deadly
sorrow.'
"It is in your own Scriptures, dear friend, if you would but see it.
And in _our_ New Testament, in Matthew twenty-four, which is _all
Jewish_ in its teaching, our Lord and Saviour, foretold all this as to
come upon your people. He even showed them to be in their own land,
saying, 'let them which are in Judea flee into the mountains . . . and
pray that your flight be not on the Sabbath day:' (for you Godly Jews
would not go beyond Moses' 'Sabbath day's journey,' and Anti-christ's
myrmidons would then soon overtake you.)"
As if to jerk the talk into a new channel, Cohen said, almost abruptly:
"Why do you say, my friend, that _our_ temple, the temple which we
shall dedicate on the tenth of this month, has probably so few mentions
in the Scriptures, and those in judgment. When we say that the whole
of the nine last chapters of our prophet Ezekiel are taken up with it.
Nearly all our plans have followed the directions, the picture of
Ezekiel's Temple?"
"That temple, sketched in Ezekiel," replied Ralph, "is the millennial
temple. There was no temple in the nineteen hundred odd years between
the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple, and the translation of
'The church,' a few months ago. There could be no temple as regards
God's people--The Church--because all that nineteen hundred years was a
_spiritual_ dispensation. God's Temple then was composed of living
stones, wherein a _spiritual_ priesthood offered up spiritual
sacrifices.
"But to go back to the temple described by Ezekiel in the last nine
chapters of his prophecy--this is the temple which will be reared in
the Millennium, but it will _not be_ in Jerusalem. Read carefully over
all that Ezekiel's description, and you will see that when your
Messiah, our Christ, comes to reign for that wonderful time of a
thousand years of perfect righteousness, that your land--the land given
in promise by God to your father Abraham--is to be _re_-divided
(Ezekiel forty-five one to five). Ezekiel's Temple, and the division
of the land, stand and fall together, and it is a subject that cannot
be symbolized.
"Now when the land is divided into straight lines, 'a holy oblation' is
commanded of sixty square miles--if the measurement be by _reeds_, or
fifteen square miles if the measurement be by _cubits_. This oblation
land will be divided into three parts. The northern portion will be
for the priests, and the new temple will be in the midst. The second
division of land, going South will be for the Levites. And the third,
the most Southerly portion, will contain Jerusalem. So that that
temple of the Millenium--Ezekiel's temple--will be fully thirty miles
from Jerusalem.
"Solomon's temple, and the one your people have just reared are both
situated on Mount Moriah, but Ezekiel's temple will not be on Mount
Moriah, for according to Isaiah two, two, 'It shall come to pass in the
last days, that the mountain of Jehovah's House shall be established in
the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all
nations shall flow unto it.'
"Read carefully, dear Cohen, your own loved Scriptures (in this
connection, especially Isaiah 50) and you will see that Gentiles shall
help, financially, as well as by manual labor to build the place, which
shall make the place of Jehovah's feet glorious--that must be His
_Temple_, and _not the city_. Though Gentiles will also help to build
the walls of your new city of Jerusalem in _that_ day."
For fully another half hour the subject was pursued. Cohen was amazed,
puzzled, but because his mind was not an open one to receive the
Truth--nothing blinds and obstructs like a preconceived idea--he failed
to grasp the Scriptural facts as presented by Ralph.
The moment came for the farewell word between them. "I may never see
you again on earth, dear friend," Ralph remarked. "For, believe me,
the day is near at hand when all of us who will cleave to _our_ God,
_your_ God--the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, will have to seal our
testimony with our blood.
"In three years and a half you, dear Cohen, and all the Godly ones of
your race, will be at issue with Lucien Apleon, for according to your
own prophet, Daniel (apart from our _New_ Testament Scriptures) he, the
Anti-christ, will autocratically put a stop to your sacrifices in your
Temple, and will set up his own image to be worshipped, and if you will
not worship that image, or if you do not succeed in fleeing to a place
of safety, your lives will be forfeited. May God bless you dear, dear
friend, and lead you into the Truth of His own plain statements of the
facts you have to face."
Cohen was quiet, subdued, almost sad. Then, as if to bridge an awkward
moment, he said, with a forced eagerness:
"Why not come to the opening of the Temple yourself, instead of sending
a representative to report to your paper?"
Ralph shook his head; "I could not get away, dear friend."
He did not voice the actual thing which weighed with him, that any day
now he might cease to be Editor of the "Courier."
The two men shook hands, and parted as men part who never expect to
meet again.
Bastin left alone dropped into a "brown study." He was suddenly
recalled to the present, by the arrival of the mail. The most
important packet bore the handwriting of Sir Archibald Carlyon, Ralph's
proprietor.
He smiled as he broke the envelope, recalling the thought of his heart
only twenty minutes ago, and wondering whether his foreboding was now
to be verified.
The letter was as kindly in its tone as Sir Archibald's letters ever
were. But it was none the less emphatic. After kindliest greetings,
and a few personal items, it went on:
"All the strange happenings of the past months have strangely unnerved
me. I cannot understand things, 'I dunno where I are,' as that curious
catch-saying of the nineteenth century put it. I live like a man in a
troubled dream, a night-mare. Several members of our church have been
taken, and I, who prided myself on my strict churchmanship, have been
left behind. My boon companion, the rector of our parish, a man who
always seemed to me to be the beau ideal clergyman, he too is left, and
is as puzzled and angry as I am. I think he is more angry and
mortified than I am, because his pride is hurt at every point, since,
as the Spiritual head (nominally at least) of this parish, he has not
only been passed over by this wonderful translation of spiritual
persons, but being left behind he has no excuse to offer for it.
"The curate of our church and his wife, whom we always spoke of as
being 'a bit _peculiar_,' they disappeared when the others did. By the
bye, Bastin, good fellow, what constitutes '_peculiarity_,' in this
sense? It seems to me now, that to be out and out for God--as that
good fellow and his wife were, as well as one or two others in our
parish--is the real peculiarity of such people. God help us, what
fools we have been!
"Our village shopkeeper, a dissenter, and a much-vaunted _local_
preacher, is also left behind, but his wife was taken. A farmer, a
member of our own church, who used to invite preachers down from the
Evangelization Society, London, is gone, but his wife, a strict
churchwoman like myself--but a rare shrew--is left.
"But to come to the chief object of my letter, I am afraid you will be
sorry--though perhaps not altogether unprepared for what I have to
say--'_I have sold the 'Courier._' It may be the only daily paper, (as
you wrote me the other day) that 'witnesses for righteousness,' but my
mind is too harrassed by all this mysterious business of the
_Translation_ of men and women, to think of anything else but the
future, and what it will bring. I have sold the paper to Lucien Apleon
(through one of his agents, of course, since now that he is made
Emperor of this strangely constituted confederation of kings and
countries) he cannot be expected to personally transact so small a
piece of business as the purchase of a daily paper."
Ralph lowered the letter-sheet, a moment, and a weary little smile
crept into his face.
"I might have guessed that Apleon would have done this," he mused, "if
he is, as I believe, the Anti-christ!"
He lifted the letter again, and read on:
"He wanted to take possession at once, and give me 5,000 pounds extra
as a retiring fee for you. But I was obstinate on this point, and told
his agent that he could not have possession until a month from today.
"Between this and then I shall hope to see you, dear Bastin. I want to
see you very much on my own account. Your utterances from 'The
Prophet's chair,' have aroused strange new thoughts and desires within
me, and I want you to help me to a clearer view of the events of the
near future. Then, as to the sundering of our business relations, you
know me so well that you know I shall treat you handsomely when you
retire from the Editorship.
"Talking of finance, what special use can money be to a man like me
now, if all that you have lately written in the 'Courier'--as to _the
future_--be true?"
The letter wound up most cordially. Then there followed a "P. S."
"My old friend, the Rector of the parish, who has always been keen on
theatricals--he would have made a better actor than parson--is having
the church seated with plush-covered tip-seats like a theatre, and
proposes to have a performance every Sunday Evening, and as often in
the week as funds, and interest in the affair, will warrant. Good
Heavens! What has the world come to? Then only to think that
England's King, is under the supreme rule of a Jew, whose antecedents
no one appears to know--that is to say, previous to his meteoric-like
appearance when he was twenty-five. 'How are the mighty fallen!"
"How, indeed!" murmured Ralph, with a sigh, as he let the letter fall
on his table.
For a moment or two he stared straight in front of him, then, half
aloud, he murmured:
"A month only! God help me to make good use of the thirty days! If I
can but wake up some of the people of this land to the real position of
affairs, I shall be only too thankful."
For a few moment's longer he sat on, deep in thought. Then suddenly he
started sharply, grew alert in every sense, and sounded a summons for
his messenger boy. When the lad appeared, he asked:
"Do you know if Mr. Bullen is on the premises?"
"Yus, sur, he is!"
"Ask him to step this way, at once, please!"
George Bullen, was a keen, up-to-date young journalist, a man of
thirty-two only, but with a fine record as regarded his profession. A
close personal friendship existed between his chief and himself, for he
had been wholly won to God through Ralph's efforts.
In a few words Ralph explained to the younger man, the changes that
were near at hand. Then continuing:
"But while you and I, George, represent 'The Courier,' we will make it
all the power for God and for humanity that lies in our power. Though
I am not sure that we can do much with _humanity_, now. The strong
delusion has got such an almost universal grip upon the race, that they
will gladly, eagerly swallow all the lie of the Arch-liar, the
Anti-christ. In the old days, before the translation of the church,
the Bible spoke of 'the whole world lieth in the arms of the Wicked
One,' and that is truer than ever now. Well, George, _we_ must do all
_we_ can.
"But now to the chief thing for which I sent for you. The new temple
at Jerusalem is to be opened on the tenth. I want you to go, to
represent the 'Courier.' What I am especially anxious for you to do,
is to note everything that will show the true _inwardness_ of things,
so that the little time left to us, on the dear old paper, shall be a
time of holy witness for God.
"Your knowledge of the East, your acquaintance with Yiddish, and Syrian
and Hebrew, the very swarthiness of your skin, and blackness of your
hair, dear boy, may all serve you in good stead. For, if you feel led
to it, I should suggest that you adopt that Syrian costume I once saw
you in. This course would have many advantages, for while you could
the more readily mix with the people, and obtain _entree_ often where
you otherwise could not, your identity as representative of 'The
Courier,' would not be made known.
"I am not sure, George, but that if you presented yourself as our
representative, that all kinds of obstacles might not be put in the way
of your obtaining information, or, more likely, in transmitting it.
You might even be quietly put out of the way. Spare no expense, dear
boy, where other men spend five pounds, spend a hundred, if it will
serve us better."
For a time the two men held deep consultation. Then when they gripped
hands in parting, each commended the other to God.
George Bullen started for the East next afternoon. His stock of
Eastern garments was full and varied, and not one Eastern in a million
would have known him from a Syrian native.