The High-Priest.
“THERE is one thing which we can’t do, it is too hard for even Dora,”
observed Elsie one morning at breakfast, when, as was often the case,
the Children’s Tabernacle had formed a topic of conversation. “We can’t
make models of the Ark, or the Altar, or the Table of Showbread; our
pretty curtains won’t cover anything, the Tabernacle will be quite
empty!”
“I really could not undertake to do more than I am doing, even if my
fingers could manage to make such tiny models,” said Lucius, who, as
we have seen, already found that he had engaged in a difficult task.
Agnes, Dora, and Amy were silent; they all felt that there would
certainly be a great want in their Tabernacle, but they did not see how
that want could possibly be supplied.
The young Temples little guessed that while their mother was in her own
room, engaged, as they supposed, in reading or writing, or making up
her household accounts, she was preparing for them a pleasant surprise.
Mrs. Temple was not less with her family than usual, she did not
neglect her house affairs, she never forgot either to order the dinner
or to pay the butcher and baker, but she stole time for her novel
employment from her sleep, and from her favorite amusement of reading
library books.
On the day when the model was completed, when the last silver socket
had been fastened, and the last little curtain hemmed, the children had
the pleasure of setting up the Tabernacle in the study, to see how it
looked. There was great satisfaction in surveying the finished work;
every one felt glad that the long labor was over, and that he had had a
share in the work.
“How pleased auntie will be!” cried Elsie.
“And the ragged children, too,” joined in Amy.
“And now go out for your walk, my dear ones,” said their mother; “the
morning is so frosty and bright that you may make your walk a long one;
I should not be surprised should you wander as far as Burnley woods. I
shall not expect you back for a couple of hours.”
“Mother, you will go with us,” said Lucius.
“I will be particularly engaged this morning,” replied Mrs. Temple,
as she shook her head with a smile. Elsie remarked afterwards that it
had been “a knowing kind of smile,” as if there had been some very
particular reason indeed for her mamma’s stopping at home. The reason
was clear enough to all the party when they returned from their walk,
and with their cheeks rosy from the fresh air and exercise re-entered
the study. The children found their mother standing beside the model.
Elsie, who was the first to run up to it, gave almost a scream of
delight.
“Oh! see—see what mamma has been making! Clever mamma!” she cried,
clapping her hands, and jumping for joy.
“What lovely little models!” exclaimed Lucius. “Mother, it is you who
have cut us all out.”
“You have done what none of us could have done,” said Agnes.
“And so quietly too,” observed Dora.
“There is nothing wanting now!” cried Amy, putting her arm fondly
around the parent who had so kindly entered into the little pleasures
of her children.
“I thought that one thing more was wanting,” said Mrs. Temple. The lady
seated herself beside the table, and took off the cover of a little
pasteboard box which she held in her hand. The children looked on with
mingled curiosity and pleasure as their mother carefully drew out from
it a beautiful little figure about two inches long, exquisitely dressed
in miniature garments, representing those which were worn by the
high-priest of Israel. To imitate these garments in a size so small,
had taxed the utmost skill of the ingenious and neat-fingered lady.
I need not set down all the exclamations of wonder and pleasure which
were uttered by the younger Temples. If their mother’s great object had
been to gratify her children, that object was certainly attained.
“The dress which I have tried to imitate,” said the lady, “is that
in which the high-priest appeared on solemn occasions. The Day of
Atonement was, however, an exception; on that most solemn day in the
year, when the high-priest ventured into the Holy of holies, he did so
in simple garments of pure white linen.”
The mother then showed and explained to her family the different
articles of dress on her curious model. The under-tunic, or shirt, of
linen, and above it the mantle of sky-blue color, having at the bottom
an ornamental border or fringe.
“This fringe, which, as you see, I have cut out in the form of tiny
pomegranates, ought to be interspersed with bells of gold,” said Mrs.
Temple; “but my fingers could not succeed in making anything so very
minute.”
“And unless we had looked through a microscope, we could not have
distinguished bells no bigger than needles’ eyes,” observed Lucius.
“And what is this fine uppermost garment, reaching to the knees?”
inquired Dora, looking admiringly on the delicate embroidery in gold
and colors similar to that which she had herself worked for the Veil,
only a great deal finer.
“This is the Ephod,” replied Mrs. Temple. “On the front of it I have,
as you see, worked in very small beads of various colors an imitation
of the high-priest’s breastplate, which was formed of twelve precious
stones.”
The minute breastplate excited more attention than any other part of
the high-priest’s dress, and had, perhaps, given the skilful worker
more trouble than all the rest. Every one of the little beads was of a
different tint. They were closely set together in rows, so as to form a
square ornament, and were fastened to the shoulder parts of the Ephod
by little threads of gold.
“How very splendid the real breastplate must have been!” exclaimed Dora
Temple.
“Had it also some typical meaning?” asked Lucius. “I suppose so,” he
added, “as everything about the Tabernacle and the high-priest seems to
have been a type of something greater.”
“On each of the precious stones in the splendid breastplate was
inscribed the names of one of the twelve tribes of Israel,” replied
Mrs. Temple. “I believe that the breastplate was worn by the
high-priest, who was to pray in the Tabernacle for the people, and
then to come forward and bless them, as a token that he bore their
names on his heart.”
“Oh, that is a beautiful meaning!” cried Amy; “especially when we
think,” she continued, more softly, “that the high-priest was a type of
our blessed Saviour Himself.”
“Who bears all His people’s names on his heart,” observed Mrs. Temple;
“both when He pleads for them in heaven, and when He blesses them upon
earth.”
“The high-priest must have looked very noble and grand in his rich
garments,” observed Lucius; “and yet it seems too much honor for any
mere man to be called a type of the Son of God.”
“Ah, my boy! poor and mean indeed must any earthly type appear when
compared to the heavenly Antitype!” exclaimed Mrs. Temple. “That
thought came strongly to my mind as I was sewing together these little
worthless glass beads to form the model of the glorious breastplate.
‘Can these wretched little atoms of colored glass,’ I said to myself,
‘give any idea of magnificent jewels, sparkling in light, set in
gold, and each engraved with a name?’ But even so mean, and small,
and insignificant was Aaron, in all his splendor, compared to the
sacred Being who deigns to call Himself our High-Priest, and to make
intercession for us above!”
All the party were silent for several moments, looking down at the
little model, and thinking over the words of their mother. Elsie then
pointed to the curious head-dress which appeared on the figure. It was
not exactly a turban, though it was formed of tight rolls of linen. It
had the representation of a plate of gold in front, fastened on to it
by a blue thread.
“That head-dress is called the high-priest’s bonnet or mitre,” observed
Mrs. Temple. “There are rather different opinions regarding its exact
shape. It cost me a good deal of thought to contrive it, and here
again I felt how impossible it is to give anything like a just idea of
the real object in a model so small as this. You see that I have not
neglected to put a little gold plate on the front of the mitre; but I
had no power to form letters so minute as to represent on it what was
engraved on that which the high-priest wore. This was ‘HOLINESS TO THE
LORD.’”
“Then the high-priest had the Lord’s Name written over his brow,”
observed Agnes. “It makes one think of the promise in the Bible, that
saints in heaven shall have His Name written on their foreheads.” (Rev.
xxii. 4.)
“All will be ‘_Holiness to the Lord_’ in that happy place!” observed
Amy.
It was pleasanter to Dora to examine the little model before her, and
to admire and praise her mother’s skill, than to think of what was
inscribed on the mitre worn by Aaron and his successors. It is the
sad, sad effect of sin concealed in the heart, that it keeps those who
indulge it from daring even to _wish_ to be holy.
The Tabernacle was now carefully taken down, piece by piece, to be
packed in a box, ready to be carried along with the rest of their
luggage when the family should quit their home for awhile. Every
curtain was neatly folded, and all the pillars carefully wrapped up
in paper. The figure representing the high-priest was gently put back
into its own little box, and all the other little objects were packed
in cotton, so as to bear without injury a little jolting on the journey
before them.
With additional pleasure the young Temples now looked forward to the
coming Christmas season, and the long-expected visit which they were to
pay to their Aunt Theodora.
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