LIBRARY PRINCETON. N. J. Case. ^'v^Ii^-:'BSfe^ No, No, Sheli~Zec^\c,x^.^.h2M\3r No. Book, ^£[^ 11 »»"■ ■« ^ The John M. Krebfs Donation. .___ h SCRIPTURE HISTORY; OPw C ONTEMPLATIONS HISTORICAL PASSAGES BY THE RIGHT REV. JOSEPH HALL, D. D. BISHOP OF NORWICH. Abridged hj Rev. George Henry Glasse. " And beginning at Moses, and all the prophets, he expounded unto them all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself." — Luke,2i : 27. PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY; 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. D. Panshaw, Printer. i OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS. ^ CONTENTS Couteniplation, Pago. 1. The Creation, ...•••<••• 9 2. Paradise, . . .' 13 3. Cain and Abel, * . 17 4. Noah, . 21 5. Abraham, .•.••.... 26 6. Isaac, 30 7. Jacob, 34 8. Joseph, 39 9. Israel in Egypt, ••••••••• 44 10. Moses bom and called, 8..«»«.43 11. The Plagues of Egypt, 53 12. Isi-ael in the wilderness, 58 13. The Law, 62 14. The Veil of Moses, 66 15. Korah, 71 16. Balaam, 75 17. The death of Moses, 80 13. Joshua, 84 19. The Gibeonites, 89 20. Gideon, 94 21. Manoah, 93 22. Samson, 103 23. Naomi, 107 24. The birth of Samuel , .112 4 CONTENTS. Contemplation. Page. 25, Eli, 116 2G. Saul anointed, . . 120 27. Samuel and David, 125 28. David and Goliah, 129 29. The death of Saul, 134 SO. Nathan and David, 138 31. The conspiracy of Absalom, . • • • . . 143 32. The death of Absalom, 148 33. Solomon, . , 152 34. The Temple, 157 35. The Queen of Sheba, 162 3G. Jeroboam, ....•...» '^ 166 37. Elijah at Sarepta, 172 38. Elijah on Carmel, . . • 176 39. Naboth, 181 40. The ascent of Elijah, . . 186 41. The Shunammite, 191 42. Naaman, . . 2 195 43. Jehu, . , . . : 200 44. Athaliah, 205 45. Hezekiah and Sennacherib, 210 46. Hezekiah and Isaiah, . . , . . ; . .214 47. Josiah, 219 48. The captivity of Judah, 224 49. Ezra, 229 50. Nehemiah, 234 51. Esther, 240 52. The death of Haman, 247 CONTENTS. THE NEW TESTAMENT. Coutemplation, Page. 53. The Angel and Zacliariali, . ,...., 253 54. The Annunciation of Christ, . ♦ . . , , 258 55. The Birth of Christ, 262 5G. The Sages and the Star, ...,.,. 267 57. The Purification, 273 58. Herod and the Infants, 077 59. Christ with the Doctors in the Temple, .... 282 GO. Christ Baptized, . / 287 CI. Christ Tempted, , 292 62. The same, , 297 G3. Simon Peter called, . • ••■•>,, 303 64. The Man-iage in Cana, .,.,,,, 308 G5. The Good Centurion, ..••,,, 313 G6. The Widow's Son raised, 317 67. The Ruler's Son healed, 322 CS. Matthew called, 327 69. The Gadarenes, . , . , , , , , 330 70. The Woman of Canaan, 337 71. Zacchens, 342 72. Hcrodias, 348 73. The Multitude fed, 353 74. Christ Walking on the Sea, 358 75. Peter Walking on the Sea, 364 7G. Jainis, 369 77. The Samaritan Village, 375 6 CONTENTS. Contemplation. Page. 78. The Ten Lepers, 379 79. The Transfiguration, ....... 385 80. The same, 390 81. The Lunatic healed, .....,,. 395 82. Bethesda, . . _ 401 83. The Power of Conscience, ....... 406 84. The thankful Penitent, 412 85. Martha and Maiy, 418 86. The Blind Beggar cured, 423 87. The Sons of Zebedee, ....... 429 88. Lazarus, . . ..... . . 434 89. The same, . : i 439 90. Christ's Entry into Jerusalem, • 445 91. Christ betrayed, ........ 451 92. The Agony, 456 93. Peter and Malchus, 461 94. Christ before Caiaphas, , . 466 95. Christ before Pilate, .471 96. The same, 477 97. The Crucifixion, 482 98. The same, 487 99. The same, 492 100. The same, ". 497 101. The Resurrection, 501 102. The same, 507 103. The Ascension, 512 lNTR0i>u6TI0N^?7£>in^ / The name of Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich, is re- membered with veneration at the distance of two centu- ries from the period in which he flourished. Few, if any, of the fathers of the English Church have left behind them such illustrious memorials of learning, piety, and unwearied industry in the cause of truth. The blame- lessness of his life — the fervor of his charity — the variety and importance of his theological wi'itings, have been so many irresistible claims on posterity to preserve him from the oblivion into which most of his contemporaries have fallen. A wise and judicious writer of his own times, Sir Henry Wotton, distinguished him as the Christian Se- neca. He might have proceeded further. He might have called him the Chrysosto77i of England. The life and sufferings of this eminent servant of God have been so carefully transmitted to the present times, that it will here be sufficient simply to mention, that he was born at Ashby de la Zouch, A. D. 1574 — that his edu- ■ cation (which commenced at the free-school endowed in the place of his birth) was completed, under many diffi- culties and disadvantages, at Emanuel College, Cam- bridge— that he was successively Rector of Halstead, Minister of Waltham-Cross, Domestic Chaplain to the Prince of Wales, Prebendary of Wolverhampton, Dean of Worcester, Bishop of Exeter, and, lastly, Bishop of 8 INTRODUCTION, Norwich — where he suffered bitter persecution in the turbulent times which succeeded the murder of his So- vereign, and where he died in an honorable and dignified poverty, A.D. 1656, in the eighty-second year of his age. He was one of four deputed to represent the Church of England at the Synod of Dort in 1618, but having attend- ed for two months, he was compelled to return home by the failure of his health. The following pages are commended to the public with the earnest hope, that in these times of lukewarmness and depravity, they may promote the glory of God, and diffuse more widely the knov/ledge of sacred truth — opening prospects of joy to the afflicted soul, and representing to the eye of faith Christ the End of the Law and the Ful- ness of the Gospel, who is over all, God blessed for ever* more. Amen. CONTEMPLATIONS* THE scripture" ffi'STORY. 1.— THE CREATION. What can I see, O God, in thy creation, but miracles of omnipotence 1 Thou mad est something of nothing ; and of that something, all things. It is to the praise of us men, if, when we have matter, we can give it fashion : thou gavest a being to matter, without form ; thou gavest a form to that matter, and a glory to that form. Where- in can we now distrust thee, who hast thus fully proved thyself to be the God that doest wonders 1 Thou mightest have made all the world perfect in an instant, but thou wouldst not. How should we deliberate in all our actions, which are so subject to imperfection, since it pleased thine infinite perfection, not out of need, to take leisure ! Neither did thy wisdom herein proceed in time only, but in degrees. First, thou madest things which have being without life — next, those which have life and being — lastly, those which have being, life, rea- son. Thus we ourselves first live the life of vegetation, then of sense, of reason afterwards. When the heaven and the earth were created in their rude matter, there was neither day nor light ; but presently thou madest both light and day. How vainly do we hope to be perfect at once ! It is well for us, if, through many degrees, we rise to our consummation. 1* 10 hall's scripture history. But, alas, what was the very heaven itself without light 1 How confused ! how^ formless ! Like a fair body- without a soul — like a soul without thee. Thou art lio-ht : and in thee is no darkness at all. 0 how incom- prehensibly glorious is the light that is in thee, since one glimpse of this created light gave so lively a glory to all thy workmanship ! Shine thou, 0 God, into the recesses of my soul, and in thy light I shall see light. But whence, O God, was that original light 1 The sun was not made till the fourth day — light, the first. Thou, who madest the sun, madest the light before the sun, that so light might depend upon thee, and not upon any part of thy creation. Thy power will not be limited to means. It was easy for thee to mai^e a heaven with- out a sun, light without a heaven, time without its pe- riodical revolutions. We creatures need not one an- other, so long as we have thee. A day will come, when we shall have light again without the sun — thou wilt be our Sun — thy presence our light. Light is sown for the righteous. That light, which thou shalt then give us, will make us shine like the sun in glory. And now the light, which was for three days dis- persed through the whole heavens, is united into the body of the sun. One star is the treasury of light to heaven and earth. Thus, 0 God, the waters by thy com- mand are gathered into one place, the sea — thus wilt thou gather thy saints from all parts of the universe to be partakers of thy joy. We are as thy heavens in their first imperfection. Be thou our sun, into which all our light may be gathered ! Yet was this light by thee interchanged with dark- ness. What an instructive lesson hast thou thus im- parted to thy creatures! The day dies into night, and rises into morning again, that we may not expect sta- bility here below. It is always day with thee above — the night savoreth only of mortality. 0 Lord, our night THE CREATION. 11 is far spent — our day is at hand — teach us to cast off the works of darkness, and to put upon us the armor of light. How fitly, how wisely are all the parts disposed in this thine enlightened frame! Behold all purity above; that which is less excellent below. Each element is su- perior to other, that by these degrees of a§cending per- fection our thoughts might rise to the top of all splen- dor, and know thine empyreal heaven to be as much more glorious than the visible, as t/iai excels the earth. O how miserable is the place of our pilgrimage com- pared with our home ! We think one island great, the earth, scarce measurable. If we were in heaven with these eyes, the whole earth would then seem to us as a grain in the balance, or as a moat in the sunbeam. The greatness of thy work, 0 God, is little inferior to its majesty. But oh, what a glorious heaven hast thou spread over our heads ! With what a precious canopy hast thou encircled our inferior world ! What gems of light hast thou set above us ! Kings build not cottages, but magnificent palaces — so hast thou done, O King of Glory ! If the pavemejit of thine heaven be so splendid, what shall we think of that which yet is unseen ! If this sun be so radiant, what is the brightness of its Creator ] If such a sky be prepared for the use and benefit of us sinners upon earth, how bright shall those eternal ta- bernacles be which thou hast prepared for thy children in heaven ! Behold then, in this stately building, three distinct stages : this lowest heaven for fowls, for vapors, for meteors — the second for the stars — the third for thine angels and saints. The first is thine outward court, open for all — the second is the body of thy covered temple, wherein are those candles of heaven perpetually burn- ing— the third is thine holy of holies. In the first is tumult and vanity — in the second, immutability and 12 hall's scripture history. rest — in the third, glory and blessedness. The first we feel — the second we see — the third we believe. But to descend to this lowest and meanest region, wherewith our senses are more acquainted — what mar- vels do even here present themselves ! There are thy clouds, thy treasuries of rain — there they hang and move, though weighty with their burden — how they are upheld, and by what means they fall we know not, and wonder. There are thy streams of light, blazing and falling stars, fires darted up and down in many forms, hollow openings, and as it were gulfs in the sky, bright circles about the moon, snows, hail. There are thy subtle winds, which we hear and feel, yet neither can see their substance nor know their causes — whence and whither they pass, and what they are, thou knowest. If we go down to the great deep, we are there at a loss whether to wonder most at the clement itself or the guests it contains. How doth that sea of thine roar, and foam, and swell, as if it would swallow up the earth ! Thou stayest the rage of it by an insensible violence, and by a natural miracle confinest its waves. I say no- thing of those hidden treasures which thy wisdom hath deposited in the bowels of the earth and sea — what in- numerable wonders doth the very face of nature ofi^er us! Which of these herbs, flowers, trees, leaves, seeds, fruits, is there, what beast, what reptile wherein we may not see the footsteps of a Deity 1 — wherein we do not read infinite power and skill, convinced that He who made the angels and stars of heaven, made also the creeping thing that creepeth on the earth 1 O God, the heart of man is too limited to admire sufficiently even that he treads upon. How shall we speak of thee, the Maker of these 1 0 Lord, how wonderful are thy works in all the world ! In wisdom hast thou made them all. Thou spakest and they were done — thy will is the word— and thy word the deed. Thine hand is not now PARADISE. 13 shortened — thy word is still equally effectual — all things still obey thee. Say thou the word, and our souls shall be made new again : say thou the word, and our bodies shall be repaired from the dust. 2.— PARADISE. But, O God, what a little lord thou hast made over this great world ! When I consider the heavens, the sun, moon, and the stars. Lord, what is man 1 Yet none but he can see what thou hast done ; none but he can admire and adore thee in what he seetK : how had he need to do nothing but this, since only he can do it ! It is lawful for us to praise thee in ourselves. All thy creation hath not more wonder in it than one of us. Other creatures thou madest by thy mere command; man, by a divine consultation: others at once; man thou didst first form, then inspire : others in several shapes; man, in thine own image: others, with quali- ties fit for service ; man, for dominion. How should we be consecrated to thee above all others, since thou hast thus distinguished us above all ! First, thou didst create the world and furnish it ; then broughtest thou in thy tenant to possess it. Thou that madest the earth ready for us before we had a being, hast by the same mercy decorated a place in heaven for us, while we are yet on earth. The stage was fully prepared; then was man brought thither, both as an actor and spectator, that he might neither be idle nor discontented. Behold, thou hast prepared the earth for his use, the heaven for his contemplation, and himself in his soul and body, an epitome of heaven and earth. Even this mortal part, vile as it is in respect of the other, as it is thine, O God, I l^ hall's scripture history. contemplate with wonder — for lo, this heap of earth hath an outward reference to heaven. Yet if this body- be compared to the soul, what is it but a mask to a beautiful face, a coarse case to a rich instrument, a wall of clay that encompasses a treasure! Man was made last, because he was worthiest : the soul was inspired last, because yet more precious. 0 God, who madest it, replenish it, possess it — dwell thou in it now, and here- after receive it to thyself. The body w^as made of earth, common to its fellow-creatures — the soul derived im- mediately from above. The body lay senseless upon earth like itself — the breath of life made it what it is j and that breath was from thee. Sense, motion, reason are infused into it at once. Thou, who by thy breath gavest thy disciples thy Holy Spirit, didst also breathe on the body, and gavest it a living spirit. To thee only are we indebted, without any intermediate agency, for our nobler part. Our flesh is from flesh — our spirit is from the God of spirits. How should our souls rise up to thee, and fix themselves in their thoughts upon thee ! How should they long to return back to the fountain of their being and the Author of their glory ! Man could no sooner see, than he saw himself happy. His eyesight and his reason were both perfect at once ; and the objects of both tended to his complete felicity. "When he first opened his eyes he saw heaven above him, earth under him, the creatures about him : he knew what all these meant, as if he had been long ac- quainted with them all. He saw the heavens glorious, but far ofl': his Maker thought it proper to prepare him an earthly Paradise. It was fit his body should have an image, on earth, of that heaven which should afterwards receive his soul. Had man been only formed for con- templaUon, he might have been placed in some vast de- sert, or on the top of some barren mountain — but the same power which gave him a heart to meditate, gave PARADISE. 15 him hands to work, and work fitted to his hands. Nei- ther was it merely the design of the Creator that man should live — he willed him to be joyful. Pleasure is every way consistent with innocence ; it cannot indeed exist without it. God loves to see his creatures happy j our lawful delight is his. They know not God who think to please him by making themselves miserable. What rare and grateful varieties do we find in gar- dens planted by the hands of men ! But when He who made the matter, undertakes the fashion^ how must it be beyond our capacity excellent ! No herb, no flower, no tree was wanting which might be for ornament or use. And yet, if God had not there conversed with man, his abundance had never made him blessed. Here his pleasure was his task. Paradise served not only to feed his senses, but to exercise his hands. Did happiness consist in doing nothing, man, in his state of innocence, had been unemployed. But man is no sooner made, than his Creator gives him his appointed work : he must labor, because he was happy — he was happy, in that he labored. The more cheerfully we discharge the duties of our several callings, the more nearly do we approach to our paradise. Neither did these trees afl^ord him only action for his hands, but instruction to his heart. All other trees in the garden had a natural use — two a spiritual. The tree of knowledge and the tree of life were designed to nourish the soul by a lively representation of that living Tree, whose fruit is eternal life, and whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. 0 infinite mercy ! Man saw his Savior before him, ere he had need of a Savior. He saw in whom he should obtain a heavenly life, ere he had lost the earthly. And though after he had tasted of the tree of knowledge, he might not taste of the tree of life, yet then did he reap most benefit from the invisible tree of 16 life when he was most restrained from the visible. Of this food, 0 Savior, thou hast called me to partake. Lo, I eat, and in spite of Adam's disobedience, I live for ever. How divine a thing is knowledge, whereof even inno- cence itself was ambitious! But it Avould not content our first parent to know God and his creatures; his cu- riosity affected to know what God never made — evil of sin, and evil of death. We know evil well enough, and smart with knowing it. How dearly hath this lesson taught us, that in some cases our happiness consists in being ignorant! How many thousand souls miscarry with the presumptuous affectation of forbidden know- ledge ! O God, thou hast revealed to us as much as we can know — enough to make us happy. Without thee wisdom is folly, and learning, ignorance. Such was the abode of unfallen man, yet even there was seen the tempter. What marvel is it, if our depra- vity find him present with us, when our holy parents found him in their paradise ! No sooner is he entered, than he commenceth his attack : elsewhere he knew there v/as no danger; behold him at the tree forbidden! Lord, (let me beg it without presumption,) make thou me wiser than Adam. Even thine image, which he bore, preserved him not in obedience, by reason of his own infirmity. When he had made a covenant with death, and with hell an agreement, it was just for thee to dismiss him from his glorious abode. Why shouldst thou feed a rebel at thine own board 1 And yet we transgress daily, and thou dost not shut lieaven against us: how is it that we find more mercy than our forefather ? His fancied strength deserved se- verity— our weakness finds pity. That God, whose face he fled in the garden, now makes him with shame fly out of the garden — those angels that should have kept him, now keep the gates of paradise against him. It is CAIN AND ABEL. 17 not so easy to recover happiness as to keep it, or to lose it. The same cause which drove man from paradise, has since withdrawn paradise from the world. That fiery sword did not defend it against those waters wherewith the sins of men drowned the glory of the world ; neither now do I seek where that paradise was which we lost — I know where that paradise is which we must study to seek and hope to find. As man was the image of God, so w^as that earthly para- dise an image of heaven — both the images are defac- ed— both the first patterns are eternal. Adam was the first — he remained not — in the second is that Se- cond Adam, which said, " This day shalt thou be with me in paradise." There was that chosen Vessel, who heard and saw what could not be expressed — since as much as the third heaven exceeds the richest earth, so doth that paradise, to which we aspire, exceed that which we have lost. Thou, O God, shalt show us the path of life — in thy presence is fulness of joy — at thy right hand is pleasure for evermore. 3.— CAIN AND ABEL. • Look now, O my soul, upon the two first brethren, and wonder at their contrary dispositions. If the privi- leges of mere nature had been of any value, the first- born child had not been desperately wicked. Behold in Abel a saint, in Cain a murderer ! Doubtless their education was holy. For Adam, though in paradise he transgressed the command of God, was devout and faithful in his exile. His sin and fall had made him circumspect : and since he saw that 18 hall's scripture history. his act had bereaved his children of those blessings that were once in store for them, he would surely labor, by all holy endeavors, to atone for what had passed, that so his care might make amends for his trespass. Alas, who would then think that the children of this common parent should not be examples of mutual love % If but two brothers be left alive of many, we think that the love of all the rest should survive in them — yet be- hold here are but two brothers in a world, and one is the assassin of the other ! That spirit which caused enmity between man and God, now sets enmity be- tween man and man. All quarrels, all uncharitable- ness must flow from one only source. If we enter- tain wrath we give place to the devil. Certainly so deadly an act must needs be deeply grounded. What then was the occasion of this capital malice 1 Abel's sacrifice meets with acceptance. What was this to Caini Cain's oblation is rejected. Could Abel be in fault on this account 1 O envy, the corrosive of all evil minds, and the root of all atrocious actions ! It should have been Cain's joy to see his brother accepted — it should have been his sorrow to see that he had deserv- ed rejection : his brother's example should have ani- mated and directed him in the same path of godliness. Could Abel prevent the fire of God from descending on his brother's sacrifice 1 Or should he be insensible of the mercy shown to himself, and displease his Maker to satisfy a graceless brother 1 Was Cain removed fur- ther from a blessing because Abel obtained mercy, and found favor from above 1 How proud and how foolish is malice, which grows thus frantic and desperate for no cause, but that God is just and his servant holy ! Religion, from the introduc- tion of sin amongst mankind, hath ever been the occa- sion of danger to the children of light. O Lord, let me, in indifferent actions, be careful to avoid giving of- CAIN AND ABEL. 19 fence — but while I walk in the way of thy command- ments, and receive the gracious manifestations of thy favor, I care not if my obedience provoke the indigna- tion of thine enemies. Seldom hath there existed a nature so perfect as to be altogether free from envy. Many, who, perhaps, do not suspect themselves, would, upon examination, find that they had some traces of Cain's disposition in their own. Too often do we hate that goodness in those around us which we neglect in ourselves. There was never ^nvy that was not bloody — for it will devour our own heart, if it reach not that of ano- ther. If it be not restrained by the over-ruling arm of heaven, it will surely be defiled with blood — often in act — always in disposition. And that God, who in good accepts the will for the deed, condemns the will for the deed in evil. If there be an evil heart, there will be an evil eye : and if both these, an evil hand. ^ How early did martyrdom come into the world ! The first man that died, died for religion. But who dares measure God's love by outward events, when he sees the wicked Cain stand over the bleeding Abel 1 The sacrifice of that holy man was first accept- ed, and now himself was sacrificed. Death was denounc- ed to man as a curse, yet behold it is first inflicted on the innocent. How soon is this curse turned into a be- nediction ! I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, '' Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." If death had been finally evil, and life good, then would Cain have been cut ofl^, and Abel would have survived. Now, since we see that it begins with him whom God loveth, we cry out with confidence, '' 0 Death, where is thy sting 1" Abel says nothing — his blood cries. Every drop of guiltless blood hath a tongue ; and is not only vocal but importunate. How loud then was the sound which went 20 up to heaven when that righteous blood was shed, the blood of him who w^as both the Priest and the Sacrifice — Him, who accepted it in his divine nature, while he offered it in his human ! The Spirit Avhich witnessed both, declares that it spake better things than the blood of Abel. Abel's blood called for revenge — thine, 0 Savior, for mercy. Abel's blood pleaded his own innocence — thine, the satisfaction made for all who should believe. Abel's blood procured Cain's punishment — thine deliver- ed all repentant souls from the wrath of God and the judgment which would have ensued. Better things in- deed than the blood of Abel! It is good that God should be avenged on sinners. It is better^ that through Thy mercy he should spare the penitent. No sooner doth Abel's blood speak to God, than God speaks to Cain. There is no wicked man to whom God speaks not — if not to his ear, yet to his heart. The words of the Almighty, on this occasion, are not an accusa- tion, but an inquiry — yet such an inquiry as would in- fer an accusation. God would have a sinner accuse himself — it is the first step towards repentance and par- don. He hath therefore placed his awful vicegerent in the breast of man. But while divine grace seeks to produce this ingenuous confession, unregenerate nature abhors it. Cain answers with stubborn insolence. The very name of Abel wounds him no less than his hand had wounded Abel. Consciences that are Avithout re- morse are not without horror — wickedness makes them either penitent or desperate. The homicide dares to be angry with God, as first for accepting his brother's obla- tion, so now for listening to his blood ! Lo, he presumes to answer God with a question, '^ Am I my brother's keeper 1" — when he should have said — '' Am I not my brother's murderer V He scorns to keep him whom he feared not to destroy. Good duties are base and troublesome to wicked minds, while they NOAH. 21 shrink not from the most abandoned villany. Yet this miscreant, who -had neither grace to avoid his sin, nor to confess it, when he is convicted, and has received his just sentence, is loud and importunate in his cries and exclamations. He, who regards not the act of sin, shall be made to feel the smart of his punishment. In the re- gions of sorrow, the enemies of God are weary of their torments, but in vain. Cain, who would not keep his brother, is cast out from the protection of God — Cain, who feared not to kill his brother, fears death at the hand of every man. The troubled conscience projects fearful things, and sin makes even cruel men cowardly. God condemns the criminal, not to die, but to live. He was anxious for life — it is granted him : but it is grant- ed as a curse. How often doth God hear sinners in au- ger ! He shall live, banished from God, carrying his hell in his bosom, and the brand of Divine vengeance in his forehead. God rejects him — the earth refuses to pros- per him — men abhor him — he now wishes for the death which once he feared, but the world does not afford another murderer. How bitter, how endless are the consequences of sin! Now Cain finds that he killed himself rathev than his brother. We should never of- fend, if we foresaw in what light our offence would hereafter appear even to ourselves. The issue of sin would be found a thousand times more horrible than the act is pleasant. 4— NOAH. What a deluge of sin preceded the flood of waters ! The unequal yoke with infidels caused this superfluity of naughtiness. The sons of God beheld the daughters 22 hall's scrifture history. of men, that they were fair. Religious husbands lost their piety, and gained a rebellious .and monstrous progeny. That which was the first occasion of sin, was the oc- casion of the increase of sin. No man hath his soul in safety who hath not made a covenant wuth his eyes. Like their first parents, these deluded patriarchs beheld that which God had forbidden — they saw — they lusted — they transgressed — and they died. The Divine justice might have punished them with- out previous notice — yet, to approve his mercies even to the wicked, God gives them a hundred and twenty years' space for repentance. How loth is the Lord to strike, who threatens so long ! He who delights in re- venge, surprises his adversary — he who gives long warn- ingSj seeks even for the guilty a way to escape. It is the obduracy of man alone which occasions his suffering. Neither doth God in this instance give time only; he sends a faithful teacher. Happy are the flock whose pastors are righteous. Noah's hand taught as well as his tongue. His business, in building the ark, was a real sermon to the world — while the work itself pro- claimed mercy and life to the believer, and to the rebel- lious, destruction. Methinks I see the gigantic sons of Lamech coming to Noah and asking him what he means by that strange work 1 — whether he designs to sail upon the dry land ] To whom, when he declares God's purpose and his own, they depart in scorn, wagging their heads and saying, " He is beside himself — too much holiness hath made him mad." But all their impious mockeries deprive not Noah of his faith — he preaches, and builds, and finishes. It is probable that other hands besides his own and those of his family assisted him in his labors — that many con- tributed to build the ark, who were not preserved in the ark. Our outward works cannot save us without our NOAH. 23 faith. We may procure deliverance to others, and yet be miserable ourselves. What a wonder of mercy is this that we here behold 1 — a single family called out of a world — a few grains of corn selected from so vast a quantity of chaff! An unholy descendant of Noah is kept alive for his father's sake — not one righteous man perished in the general destruction. For these few the earth was still preserv- ed under the waves. Were it not for the godly, fire would even now consume that world which could not be purified by water. The most savage of' all creatures (by an instinct of God) come to seek the ark — not a man is seen to ap- proach. Reason once depraved is worse than brutish- ness. How gently do these tyrants of the desert ofl^er and submit themselves to the patriarch, renewing that allegiance to the repairer of the world, which before his transgression they paid to its first lord! The lions fawn upon Noah and Daniel. If the Creator will preserve, the creature hath no power to destroy. The day is come — all the guests are entered — the ark is shut — the windows of heaven are open — and the foun- tains of the great deep broken up. Now these scoffers, when they see the predictions of Noah about to be ful- filled, approach in haste and importunately crave admit- tance. But as they formally rejected God, so they are justly rejected by him in return. Before vengeance be- gins, repentance is seasonable — till judgment be gone out, we do not cry too late. While the Gospel solicits US, the doors of the ark are open. If we neglect the time of grace, we shall learn by sad experience that God will fearfully punish the obdurate. When from the tops of the mountains they contemplate their approach- ing dissolution with paleness and horror, they see the ark floating upon the waters, and behold with envy that which they formerly beheld with scorn. 24< hall's scripture history. In vain doth he fly, whom God pursues. There is no way to avoid his judgments, unless we betake ourselves to his mercy by repentance. The faith of the righteous was once derided — now his success demonstrates the hand of God. How securely doth Noah ride out this up- roar of heaven, earth, and waters! He hears the pouring down of the rain above his head — the shrieks of men, the roaring of beasts around him — the raging of the waves beneath him. He sees the miserable end of the unbelievers ; and in the mean time himself neither feels nor fears evil. He knows that God, who created the waters, will direct him — that God, who had shut him in,- will preserve him. How happy a thing is faith ! What a quiet safety, what a heavenly peace doth it work in the soul, in the midst of all the inundations of evil ! At length the Almighty decreed that a renovation of all things should succeed this destruction. After forty days the heaven clears up — after a hundred and fifty, the waters sink down. God is soon weary of punishing — he is never weary of blessing. Now doth Noah send out the raven and the dove. The raven flies away, and returns no more. The carnal mind quits the church of God and embraces the present world j scorning to be restrained within the limits of christian obedience. The dove, like a true citizen of the ark, returns, and by her olive-leaf brings welcome news of the abatement of the waters. How worthy are those ambassadors to be re- ceived with joy, who, with innocence in their lives, bring glad tidings of peace and salvation in their mouths ! Noah believes and rejoices, yet still he waits seven days more ere he will despatch again his winged mes- senger, and two months ere he will forsake the ark : nor would he even then have quitted it, had not the God who commanded him to enter, commanded him likewise to depart. Happy is that man who in all things, neglecting the counsels of flesh and blood, de- pends upon the direction of Omnipotence. No sooner is Noah come out of the ark than he builds an altar — not a house for himself, but an altar to the Lord. Delayed gratitude is not worthy of acceptance. Behold this fire of Noah*s sacrifice ascends up to those heavens from whence the waters fell, and a glorious rainbow appears there, for his security and that of his descendants ; a pledge of the everlasting covenant be- tween heaven and earth. No incense can be so sweet in the presence of God as the holy obedience of the faithful. Here then was there a new and second rest. First, God rested from making the world, now from de* stroying it. We cease not to offend, but he forbears again to punish us by a general overthrow. His word was enough; but he adds a token which may speak the truth of his promise to the very eyes of men. Nor is this more evident in the natural than in the spiritual world. His blessed sacraments are the symbols of his heavenly covenant to the soul. All the signs of his in- stitution are proper and significant. But who would look, after all this, to find righteous Noah, the father of the new world, drunken in his tent % Alas, what are we men without assistance from God \ While he upholds us no temptation can prevail against us ; if he withdraw his support, no trial is too weak to overthrow us. He who thus sufl^ered the king, the priest, the prophet of the world to transgress, knows how to make even the errors of his holy ones tend to the ad- vantage of his church. If we had not such examples of human frailty before us, how often should we be tempt- ed to despair at the thought of our manifold infirmities! What shall we think of that vice which robs a man of himself, and leaves a beast in his rooml Ham be- holds, and laughs at the humiliation of his parent and preserver. Better had that ungracious son perished in Script, nkc -* 26 the waters, than that he should have lived to receive liis father's curse. The modest sorrow of his brethren, which drew on them a blessing, is their praise and our example. The sins of those we love and honor we must hear of with indignation — fearfully and unwillingly be- lieve— acknowledge with grief and shame — hide with honest excuses — and bury in silence. 5.— ABRAHAM. How soon are men and sins multiplied ! While thc^ ee before them the fearful monuments of their ances tors' ruin, how quickly have they forgotten a flood! 1. was a proud word, " Come, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach to heaven." Most shame- ful arrogance — most ignorant presumption in man, who is a worm — in the son of man, who is a worm! God wills us to look up towards heaven with lively faith — with humble and fervent desires, not with the proud imaginations of our own achievements ; but haughty and frantic ambition knows no limits, and so the Al- mighty directs his indignation against it. Lo ! his divine power arrests them in the midst of their course j by dividing their tongues he frustrates their work, and mocks the impiety of the workmen. How easily can he control or bring to nothing the great- est projects of men ! Wicked acts, which begin in vain- glory, do for the most part terminate in shame. After- Avards there was a time when what was here effected as 0. punishment^ took place, by the inspiration of God, for a blessing to the church, that the sound of the glorious Gospel might be heard amidst the people, the nations and the languages. But alas ! to this day in our spiritual ABRAHAM. 27 Sion the building doth not advance, because our tongues are divided. Happy would it be for the church of God if there we all spake but one language. While we live in divscord we can build nothing but confusion. Differ- ence of tongues caused the Babel of these sinners to cease, but it promotes the height of ours. In the land whose inhabitants thus rebelled against a God of justice and mercy the holy patriarch Abraham is born, but he is directed to seek elsewhere for his abode. It was fit that he who was to be the father and pattern of the faithful should be thoroughly tried. No son of Abraham must shrink' from difficulties, or expect to es- cape temptations, when he sees that bosom on which hereafter he desires to repose assaulted by such innu- merable trials. Abraham must leave his country and kindred, and dwell among strangers. The earth is the Lord's, and all places are alike to the wise and faithful. If Chaldea had not been grossly idolatrous Abraham had not quitted it, but no bond must tie us to the danger of infection. Yet whither must he go 1 to a place he knew not — to men that knew not him. It is comfort enough to a good man, wheresoever he is, that he is acquainted with God : we cannot be out of the way while we follow his holy calling. Never did any man lose by his obedience to the Most High. Because Abraham yielded, God gives him the inheritance of Canaan ; and the faith which thus takes possession, equals that which first led him to quit his native country. Behold, Abraham takes possession for that progeny which he had not — which in nature it was not probable he should have. He takes possession of that land whereof himself should never have one foot ; wherein his descendants should not be settled till almost five hundred years after. The power of faith can anticipate time, and make future things present. If we are the true sons of Abraham, we are already, while we 28 hall's scripture history. 80Journ here on earth, possessors of our land of pro- mise ; while we seek our country we have it. Canaan doth not afford him bread, which yet must flow with milk and honey to his posterity. Sense must still yield to faith. He must depart into the land of Egypt, and there seek the relief which elsewhere he may not find. Thrice hath Egypt preserved the church of God — in Abraham, in Jacob, in Christ. The Almighty often makes use of the world for the benefit of his chil- dren ; and even the wicked in many instances eflfect his good purpose, while themselves are intending only evil. The famine is past ; the patriarch returns, and with him the wife of his bosom, and Lot, the companion of his exile ; while Canaan, as if it would atone for its late scarcity, now brings forth by handfuls, even to these strangers. Before they grew rich they dwelt together} now their wealth separates them ; their society was a greater benefit than their riches. How many are griev- ous sufferers by that which the world holds dearest ! It was the duty of Lot to yield to the brother of his father, not to contend and stipulate. Who would not think Abraham the younger and Lot the elder 1 It is no disparagement to the greatest persons to commence a treaty of peace. Better does it become every servant of God to win with love than to sway with power. Abra- ham resigns his pre-eminence — Lot takes it. And be- hold, Lot is crossed in that he chose ; Abraham is bless- ed in that which was left him. God will not fail to re- ward him who meekly resigns his right in the desire of peace. Lot sees the fertile plains watered by Jordan — the richness of the soil — the benefit of the rivers — the situ- ation of the cities; and without inquiring further, he takes up his abode in Sodom. Twice did he pay dear for his rashness. He departed peaceably from his near- est friend \ ho finds war with strangers j he is deprived ikBRAHAM. 29 of his liberty and substance by powerful enemies. Now must Abraham rescue him by whom he had been for- saken. That wealth which was the cause of his former quarrels is made a prey to merciless heathens; that place which his eye covetously chose endangers his life and his possessions. Christians, '.hile they have sought for gain, have too frequently lost themselves. Yet this ill success hath not induced Lot to depart from that widked region which, if it had been taught repentance by the sword, would have escaped the fire. Even this visitation Jiath not made ten good men in those five cities. Only Lot vexed his righteous soul at their wickedness. He vexed his oxen soul, for he staid there with his own consent ; but because he was vexed he is delivered — he is rescued from the judgments of God— he becomes an host to angels. The houses of holy men are full of these heavenly spirits, whom they know not j they pitch their tents in ours^ visit us when we see not, and when we feel not protect us. Wickedness hath but a time ; its punishment inevita- bljr, however slowly, approaches. Short and dangerous was the residue of that night in which the patriarch re- ceived his heavenly guests. Yet still he goes forth to seek his sons-in-law. No good man wishes to be happy alone ; faith makes us charitable at the hazard of our own safety. He warns them like a prophet, and advises them like a father, but in vain ; he seems to them as one that mocked, and they do more than seem to mock him in return. Thus, to carnal minds preaching is foolish, devotion useless, the prophets madmen, Paul a vain bab- bler. He that believeth not is condemned already. O the bounty of God, which extends not to us only, h\xi ours! He preserves Lot for Abraham's sake, and even the city Zoar for Lot's sake. Were it not that the children of God are intermixed with the world, that world could not stand ; the wicked owe their lives to 30 hall's scripture history. those few good men, whom they hate and persecute. Now the sun rises on Zoar, and fire falls down on So- dom. Abraham stands upon the hill and sees the cities burning. His faith is confirmed, while his heart is rent with pity for those in whose behalf he had pleaded with his God. The angel, who came down from heaven in wrath to visit Sodom, brought to Abraham a message of peace, and announced the near approach of the promised seed. The holy man hears the tidings with joy. Sarah mis- trusts, and fears, and doubts, and yet hides her difii- dence j till, reproved for her infidelity by Him who is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart, she is at length convinced of his omnipotence. Abraham believeth God, and it is accounted to him for righteousness. It is enough for him that God hath said it. He sees not the means, he sees the promise. He knows that his posterity shall be as the stars of heaven, though as yet he has no child. Faith is ever recompensed with blessings. Isaac is born to Sarah and to Abraham. 6.— ISAAC. But these are in comparison easy tasks of faith — all ages have stood amazed at the next, not knowing whether they should more wonder at God's command or the obedience of his servant. Many years that good patriarch waited for his son. Now he hath joyfully re- ceived him, and with him the gracious promise, '' In Isaac shall thy seed be called." Behold, the son of his age, the son of his love, the son of his expectation must die by the hand of this wretched father. '^ Take ISAAC. 3 1 thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there for a burnt of- fering." Never was any gold tried in so fierce a fire. But God knew that he spake to an Abraham j and Abraham knew that he w^as commanded by a God. Faith had taught him not to argue, but obey. He is sure that what God commands is good — that what he promises is infallible — and therefore he is careless of the ?nea7is, and trusts to the end. We hear him not exclaiming, *'VVhat! doth the God of mercies delight in blood ^. Can murder become pfety 1 Can I not be faithful unless I am unnatural 1 Why did I wait so long for my son 1 Why didst thou give him me 1 Why is he so dutiful, •so dear, so hopeful] Why didst thou promise me a blessing in him 1 When Isaac is gone, w^here is my blessing ] 0 God, if thy commands and purposes be cnpable of alteration, let thy first word stand — rescind this dreadful sentence !" These would have been the thoughts of an unstable heart. The good patriarch rises early and prepares himself for his sad journey. And now he must travel three whole days to the place appointed ; and still must Isaac be in his eye, w^hom all this while in his imagina- tion ho sees expiring. There is nothing so miserable as to dwell under the expectation of a great evil. Inevita- ble misfortune is mitigated by speed and aggravated by delay. All this time had Abraham leisure to return. Now when they are come in sight of the chosen moun- tain the attendants are dismissed. What a devotion is this, that will abide no witnesses? Alas, what stranger could have endured to see the father carry the knife and fire, instruments of that death which he had rather suffer than inflict? to see the son carrying that load on which he was so soon to be extended as a victim ? But what must be the strength of Abraham's faith, 32 hall's scriptube histoky. that he could endure the question of his dear, his in- nocent, his religious child 1 " My father, behold the fire and the wood — but where is the lamb for a burnt-offer- ing 1" Did not that one word, " My father," inflict on the patriarch a death far more cruel than he could pos- eibly inflict on his son 1 Yet still the pious parent con- ceals, persists, and where he means not, prophesies, ''My son, God himself shall provide a lamb for the burnt-offering." Reluctantly do the heavy tidings come forth — it was torment to Abraham to say what he must do. He knows his own faith, he knows not the constancy of his son. But now, when Isaac hath assisted in building the altar on which he must be offered, he hears the strange com- mand of God, the final will of his father. " My son, thou art the lamb which God hath provided for this burnt- offering. If my blood would have excused thee, how many thousand times had I rather give thee mine own life than take thine ! Alas, I am full of days, and for a long season have only lived in thee. Thou mightst have preserved the life of thy father, have comforted his death, have closed his eyes — but the God of us both has chosen thee. He that gave thee to me miraculously, bids me, by an unusual method, return thee to himself. It is needless to tell thee that I sacrifice all my worldly joys, yea, and myself in thee. But God must be obey- ed ; neither art thou too dear for him that calls thee. Come then, my son, restore the life which God hath given thee by me — offer thyself willingly on this altar- send up thy soul cheerfully to thy glory — and know, that God loves thee above others, since he requires thee alone to be consecrated in sacrifice to himself!" Who cannot imagine with what perplexed and min- gled passions, with what changes of countenance, what doubts, what fears, what amazement, the youth received this sudden message from the mouth of his father 1 ISAAC. 33 But when he had composed his thoughts, and considered that the author was God, the actor Abraham, the act a sacrifice, he approves himseh' no degenerate child of such a parent. Now he encourages the trembling hand of his father — offers his hands and feet to the cords, his bosom to the knife, his body to the altar. O holy emu- lation of faith! O blessed agreement of the sacrificer and the oblation ! Abraham no longer delays the fatal act of obedience — he binds those dear hands, he lays his sacrifice on the wood. And now having given him a last embrace, not with- out mutual tears, he lifts up his hand to inflict the stroke of death at once. Now the stay of Abraham, the pro- mised seed, the hope of the Church, the beloved of God, lies prepared to bleed under the hand of a father. What heart would be unmoved at such a spectacle as the patriarch and his Isaac at this moment afforded! What heathen, however barbarous, who had been now on the hill of Moriah, and had beheld the weapon of a parent uplifted against such a son, would not have been overwhelmed with horror and amazement 1 Yet he whom it most nearly concerned remains unshaken. In his pious soul faith and patience have their perfect work. He contemns all fears — he overlooks all impos- sibilities. His heart tells him, that the same povi^er, which by miracle gave him his son, by miracle could raise him again from the ashes of his sacrifice. Thus fortified, thus elevated above nature itself, he prepares for the last dreadful act, when suddenly the angel of the Lord stays his arm — forbids him — commends him ! , I The voice of God was never so welcome, never so seasonable as now. It was the trial he intended, not the fact, Isaac is sacrificed, and is yet alive — and now the joy and rapture of these saints of God make amends to them for all the sorrows which they had sustained. The commands of God are often harsh in the beginning, 2* 34. uall's scripture history* but in the conclusion always full of comfort. True spi- ritual consolation is frequently delayed. God defers it on purpose, that our trials may be perfect, our deliver- ance welcome, our recompense glorious. Isaac had ne- ver been so precious to his father, if he had not been recovered from death — if he had not been as wonder- fully restored as given. Abraham had never been blessed in his posterity, if he had not neglected Isaac for God. The only way to find comfort in any earthly thing is to surrender it into the hands of the Almighty, in pious resignation. , Abraham came to sacrifice— his purpose is not frus- trated. Behold, a ram stands ready for the burnt-offering, and as it were offers himself to the exchange. What mysteries are there in every act of God! Here, even here, in after ages, the only Son of God is on this moun- tain laid on the altar of his cross, a true ^crifice for the world — yet is he raised without any real injury, and exempted from the power of death. Here is he offered and accepted — here his death and his rising proclaim him doubly a Savior. The patriarch Abraham saw this glorious day with the eye of faith — he saw it, and was glad. , Whatsoever is dearest to us is our Isaac — happy are we if we can offer it to God. They shall never rest with Abraham who cannot sacrifice with Abraham. 7.~J A C 0 B . Of all the patriarchs none lived so privately or so peaceably as Isaac. Distinguished for his filial piety and conjugal affection, faithful to his God, dutiful to bis parents, a chaste observer of nnptinl fidelity, he JACOB. 35 paibsed his days in the contemplation and the tranquil- lity that he so loved. But the life of Jacob was busy and troublesome ; none of the patriarchal race saw such evil days as he from whom the militant Israel of God hath taken its name. There is nothing but conflict to be expected where grace is put in competition with nature. Esau hath the right of primogeniture, Jacob that of promise ; yet to this he adds that of purchase too. The careless, unbelieving Esau barters for a poor considera- tion what in fact was not rightfully his own — what was now his brother's by every law divine and human. Ne- ver, except the forbidden fruit, was food so dearly pur- chased as this repast of Esau ! But what hath Jacob gained, if the fondness of Isaac for his first-born shall countervail both the purchase and the promise ? Blinded by age and by affection, Isaac prepares to bestow on Esau that blessing which be- longed only to the birthright he had assigned to his brother, and on which depended the precious privilege of being ancestor to the Messiah. The dearest of God's saints have sometimes been overcome by too great ten- derness of heart. Isaac knew the oracle of God that the elder of his sons should serve the younger. He (no doubt) knew that profane contempt wherewith Esau had rejected the privileges of his birth. He saw him forming impious alliances with heathens — and yet he will consider nothing but his own unjust partiality. How gracious is God, who, when we would sin, doth often interpose his providence, and so orders our ac- tions, that w^e do, not what we would., but what we ought I Lo, the affections of the parents are divided that the promise may be fulfilled. Isaac would unjustly bestow on Esau that which was Jacob's ; Rebecca, with equal injustice, teaches Jacob to personate Esau. The mother 36 shall rather defeat the son and beguile the father, than the father shall beguile the chosen son of his blessing. Her desire was good j the means she used to effect it were unlawful. God often accomplishes his purpose by means of our infirmity; yet neither is our weakness thereby justified, nor his unerring justice impeached. Here was nothing but illusion. The person, the name, the food, the answer, all counterfeit — yet behold a true blessing ! Jacob fears the failure o[ his stratagem, the disappointm'ent of his hopes, the curse of his father. Rebecca, presuming on the oracle of God and the un- Buspicious temper of her husband, dares be surety for the danger, counsels her son in his procedure, assists him in its progress, seeks to obviate every difficulty which may arise, and only regrets that while she invests Jacob with the garment of Esau, she cannot at the same time give him the voice. But this is past her remedy. Her son must name himself Esau in the accent of Jacob. No doubt, if Isaac by any of his senses had discerned the fraud, she herself w^ould have stood forth, would have taken on her own head all the blame, would have urged the known will of God concerning the servitude of Esau and the dominion of Jacob, which age and partiality had blotted out from the memory of their father. He who is good himself is unwilling to believe evil of another ; and will rather distrust his own senses than the fidelity of those he loves. Yet to deceive the ear of his father, Jacob must second his dissimulation with falsehood. 0 Jacob, I love thy blessing, but I hate thy method of obtaining it. I would not venture thy fraud to obtain a benediction from the holiest of men; for God who pardoned thy weakness would punish my wilful transgression. Isaac believes, and blesses his younger son in the gar- ments of the elder ; and Jacob is no sooner gone away JACOB. 37 wiih joy, than Esau comes in with presumptuous expec- tation. Jacob had obtained that by wrong which was by riglit his own. Esau, not regarding his voluntary ab dication of his birthright, dares yet hope for the privi- lege he had wantonly cast away from him. But the hopes of the wicked fail them when they are at the highest, and Esau, who in his father's bless- ing sought only present benefit, meets with nothing but a repulse. Lo, Isaac now trembles, and Esau weeps. Who would trust tears when we see them fall from such graceless eyesi Isaac trembles, on tiie conviction of his conscience. His heart now told him that he should not have purpos- ed the blessing where he did, and that it was due to him who had obtained it. Hence he durst not reverse what he had done by the will of God and not his own. It was a good w^ord, " Bless me also, O my father !" Every miscreant can wish himself well. No man would be miserable if it were enough to desire happiness. But the tears of Esau were false and unholy ! they were the tears of rage, of envy, of carnal desire ; they proceed- ed from that worldly sorrow w^iich causeth death. He did not see that God was just in all that had befallen him; he knew himself profane, and yet he claims a blessing. And now, like a second Cain, he resolves to kill his brother because that brother w^as more worthy. He lonofs for the death of Isaac, and meditates that of Jacob J who, to escape his present indignation, flies from the cruel Esau to the cruel Laban. With a sta(l he goes over Jordan, alone, doubtful and comfortless. In the way the earth is his bed and a stone his pillow; yet even then his heart is full of joy ; he beholds a vi- sion of angels ; he hears his father's blessing echoed to him from heaven. God is most present with us in our greatest dejection, and loves to give comfort to those who are forsaken of their hopes. S8 Jacob travels far, and meets with little friendship at the end of his journey. No doubt, when Laban heard of his approach he looked for the camels and attend- ants which summoned Rebecca from her native coun- try ! he supposed that the son of Isaac would not come with less grandeur than the servant of Abraham. Now, when he sees him alone and unattended, he beholds in him not a kinsman but a slave. Lo, he serves seven years for his Rachel, and at the end is beguiled by the subtlety of Laban, and compell- ed to be the unwilling husband of Leah. In the substi- tution of the elder daughter for the younger he could jiot but remember his own past treachery. At a mo- ment when we think not, God often repays us our sins by the sins of others. Other seven years must he serve for Rachel. What miseries will not love overcome 1 If Jacob was willingly consumed in the day by the heat, and in the night by the frost, to become the son-in-law of Laban, O what should we refuse to become the sons of Godl But while Laban only considers his own advantage, God provides for his faithful servant — whose wealth (after twenty years) renders him an object of envy to the proud sons of a cruel father. Jacob is constrained to flee as from an enemy ; Laban, as an enemy, pursues him — meanwhile an army of men are conducted against him by Esau, with equally hostile intentions. But he who can wrestle earnestly with God is secure from the harms of men. Laban leaves Jacob, and Esau meets him with a kiss. Who shall need to fear that is in league with Go-d I When a man's ways please the Lord he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him. Yet how many are the troubles of the righteous ! Rachel, the comfort of his life, dieth. His children, the j^taff o{ his age, wound his soul to the death. Simeon and Levi are murderous — Reuben and Judah incestuous JOSEPH. 39 — Dinah is ravished — Joseph is lost — Simeon is im- prisoned— Benjamin, the right hand of his father, is en- dangered— and Jacob is driven by famine in his old age to die amongst the Egyptians, a people who held it abomination to eat with him. What son of Israel can hope for good days, when he hears that his father's were so evil ] It is enough for us, if when we are dead we can rest with him in the land of promise. If the Angel of the covenant once bless us, no pain, no sorrow can make us miserable. Many are the troubles of the ^'•nrhteous, but the Lord delivereth him oat of them all. 8.— JOSEPH. Suffering is ever the way to glory. If we are dear to our heavenly Father we are hated by our carnal breth- ren. Joseph is not a clearer type of Christ, than of every christian. How unsearchable are the ways of God! How do they transcend all human investigation ! Had it not been for Joseph's dreams, he had not been sold ; had he not been sold, he had not been exalted. Little did Joseph think, when he went to seek his brethren, that he should never more return to his father's house ; little did his brethren think, when they sold him naked to the Ish- maelites, that they should see him exalted to princely dignity in Egypt. While Joseph inquires of his brethren's health they arc plotting his destruction. He looked for kinsmen and friends, and beheld murderers ! Each one strives who shall lay the first hand on the many-colored pledge of a 40 r.\ll's scmriURE iiistort. father^s fondness. They strip him naked, cast him alive into his grave, and, in pretence of forbearance, resolve to aggravate his misery by a death of protracted anguish. All this while Joseph wanted neither words nor tears • — the passionate suppliant entreated them, by the dear name of their brotherhood, by their adoration of one common God, for their father's sake, for their own soul's sake, not to sin against his blood. But envy hath shut out mercy, and made them forget themselves, not only to be brethren, but men. While the noise of his lamen- tation is in their ears, they sit down to eat bread, with- out one sensation of remorse at their having condemned the innocent darling of their father to perish with hunger. And now, while he hath nothing in prospect but present death, behold it exchanged for bondage. God will ever raise up some secret favorers to his children, even among their bitterest enemies. At the instigation of Judah, a company of Ishmaelites passing by, pur- chase a treasure far more precious than all their balm and myrrh. From the pit where he lay naked and lan- guishing they receive into their hands the lord of Egypt, the delight and ornament of the world. He who is mourned for in Canaan as dead, prospers in Egypt in the house of Potiphar, and instead of a slave is made a ruler — but lo, again his obedience to God and unshaken adherence to liis duty make him the victim of malice and revenge. Disappointed lust, hatred burn, ing furiously in the heart of a woman, procure him an unjust and cruel imprisonment. The patriarch submits in f>ilence--he knows that God will find a time to clear his innocence, to reward his chaste fidelity. No sooner is Joseph a prisoner than he is a gvar* dian of the prisoners. Trust and honor accompany him wheresoever he is. In his father's house, in Potiphar's, in the prison, in the palace, still hath he both favor and rale. JOSEPH. 41 After two years of Joseph's patience, God calls him to more distinguished honor — sends a dream to Pha- raoh— imparts the interpretation to Joseph. Lo, from a miserable prisoner the youth is made ruler of Egypt ! One hour hath changed his fetters into a chain of gold, and the captive of Potiphar is lord over his ancient master. Humility goes before honor — sorrow and suf* fering are the best instructors to those who are called to dignity. How well are the children of God repaid for their patience ! Never doth he neglect them j least of all in the day of their afflictions. Pharaoh prefers Joseph — Joseph enriches Pharaoh. If Joseph had not ruled, Egypt had been undone — now the subjects are indebted to him for life, the king for liis supremacy — the bounty of God made his servant able to give more than he received. No piety can exempt us from the common visitations of God. The holy Jacob is afflicted by the famine which desolates the land of his pilgrimage. No man can tell by the outward event, which is the patriarch and which the Canaanite. His ten sons must now leave their flocks and go down into Egypt. They must humbly bow the knee to him who was once the object of their scorn- ful cruelty. His habit, his language, his dignity kept Joseph from their thoughts — while nothing tends to prevent his immediate recollection of those whom he has more reason to view as enemies than as brethren. Now does he behold the accomplishment of his an- cient dreams — now thinks he fit to hide his love from them who had shown him so much hatred. He speaks roughly — rejects their persuasions — calls them spies- puts them all in hold — and one of them in bonds. The mind must not always be judged by the outward actions. God's countenance is often severe to those he best lov- eth. What song could be so delightful to the patriarch as to hear his brethren in bitter remorse condemn them- 42 HALL S SCRIPTURE IIISTORY. selves for their former cruelty, before him who was their witness and judge 1 His heart is melted — he pi- ties them with tears — he weeps for joy to see their repentance. Yet is Simeon left in fetters, and the rest go back with their corn and with their money to their father. Jacob was unused to perfect happiness. They who bring him necessary food, bring him sad tidings of the detention of one son, the danger of another. While they prevent his dying with hunger, they pierce his heart with new sorrows. The painful separation is for a while protracted : but at length his Benjamin must depart. No plea is so importunate as that of famine. The brethren return to Egypt laden with double money, and with a present in their hands. Now hath Joseph his desire — now doth he feast his eyes with the sight of that dear brother whom he bor- Tows, as it were, for a season, that he may restore him with increase of joy. Now he welcomes them whom once he threatened, and turns their fear into wonder. But soon their fear comes back with tenfold violence. Joseph, by a feigned accusation of Benjamin, proves his brethren afresh, that he may redouble their joy should he deem them worthy of his love. And now, when Judah tenderly reports the danger of his aged father, and the sadness of his last complaint, and his fond attachment to the son of his old age, com- passion and transport will be concealed no longer — they burst forth by his voice and at his eyes. Joseph sends out his servants, that he might freely weep. He knew he could not say, "I am Joseph!" without the most impassioned vehemence. Never any word sounded like this in the ears of the jsons of Jacob. What marvel if they stood with paleness and silence before him, while the more they believed JOSEPH. 43 the more they feared ! " I am Joseph," implies to their consciences, '' Ye are murderers ! My power and this place give me all opportunities of revenge. My glory is your shame, my life your danger, your sin lives together with me." But soon the tears and gracious words of Joseph assure them of pardon and love, and change their doubts into gladness. Now they return home rich and joyful, and make themselves happy by the joy they were to afford their father. The return of Benjamin was acceptable— but that his dead son was yet alive ^fter so many years' lamenta- tion, was intelligence too rapturous for belief, and en- dangered the life of Jacob with fulness of joy. Yet his eyes revived his mind ; and when he saw the chariots of his son he believed Joseph's life, and sought earnestly for his society. "It is enough^Joseph my son is yet alive — I will go down and see him before I die."^ The height of all earthly happiness appeared in the meeting of the father and his son, endeared to each other by their mutual loss. God doth often remove our comforts for a time, that we may be more joyful in their recovery. This was the most unmixed joy the patriarch ever felt. It was reserved by heaven to illu- mine the evening of his days. And if the meeting of earthly friends be so delight- ful, how happy shall we be in the sight of the glorious God, our heavenly Father ! of that blessed Redeemer, whom we sold to death by our sins, and who, after his noble triumph, hath all power given him in heaven and earth ! Thus did Jacob rejoice when he was to go out of the land of promise into a foreign nation for Joseph's sake j being glad to lose his country for his son. O what shall our joy be who must go out of this foreign land of our pilgrimage to the home of our glorious inherit- 44 hall's scripture history. ance, to that better Goshen, free from all the imperfec- tions of this Egypt, and full of all the riches and de- lights of God I 9.— ISRAEL IN EGYPT. Egypt was long a place of refuge to the Israelites — now it becomes a prison : they who at first were ho- nored as lords, are now held in contempt as slaves. It is a rare thing to find posterity heirs of ancient love j one Pharaoh advances the children of Jacob, another labors to destroy them. How should the favor of men be otherwise than themselves, variable and inconstant 1 There is no certainty but in the favor of God, in whom is no variableness, whose mercies descend without in- terruption on a thousand generations. If the Israelites had been treacherous, if they had been disobedient, there had been some pretence for this alienation. Now their only offence is, that they pros- per; that which should bring them congratulation be- comes the cause of malice. There is no sight so hate- ful to a wicked man as the felicity of the righteous. And what if Israel be mighty and rich 1 " If there be war, they may join with our adversaries." It is easy for those who seek for contention to find a plausible pretence ; here were no wars, no adversaries, no hos- tile dispositions on the part of Israel ; yet behold, they enslave their certain friends for fear of uncertain ene- mies. Wickedness is ever suspicious and cowardly, it makes men fear where no fear is — makes them (lee when none pursucth. David saith, '' I will not be afraid for ten thousand of the people who have set them- ISRAEL IN EGYPT. 45 selves against me round about." Pharaoh, " If there be war, they may join with our adversaries." Was not this fear, if it really did exist, a motive for his treating them with kindness 1 Ought he not to have shown them favor, that they might have adhered steadfastly to his cause 1 That a people so great, so powerful, might have drawn their swords in his behalf 1 Weak and base minds ever incline to the least noble part; favors are more binding than cruelties j yet the Egyptians prefer a nation of slaves to friends. " Come on, let us work wisely." Evil men call wick- ed politics wisdom, and their success happiness, while themselves are the miserable dupes of sin, and of the great deceiver, who lays the plot and teaches his de- luded followers to choose villany and madness instead of true wisdom and virtue. Injustice is upheld by violence; task-masters are set over Israel; heavy burdens are laid upon them; the name of a slave is added to that of a stranger. Too pro- bable is it, that the children of Israel had sinned during their abode among an idolatrous nation, and that He whom they had offended, now made them suffer for their sins. Had they not deserved the burden of God's anger, they would not have borne the burdens of the Egyptians. But as God afflicted them with far different views than Pharaoh, (the one for their benefit, the other for their extinction,) so he caused the events to differ. Who would not have thought with these Egyptians that the extreme misery of Israel would have subdued and diminished themi God, who worketh according to liis almighty wisdom, causes them to grow with de- pression, with persecution to multiply ! How can his church be dispirited when the very malice of their ene- mies benefits them — when the goodness of their hea- venly Father turns even poisons into cordials 1 The vine which Thou broughtest up out of Egypt, 0 God, 46 hall's scripture history. flourished under the pruning-knife which sought to destroy it. And will not the Egyptians abhor their own malice when they see the prosperity of those whom they thus unjustly persecute! Alas, as the strength of Israel in- creased, so did the hatred of their inveterate enemies. Tyranny will try what can be done by the violence of others ; women must be suborned to be murderers ; the male children must be born and die at once. It is fault enough to be the son of an Israelite. Whosoever gives a loose to cruelty is easily carried into incredible ex- tremities of guilt. From burdens they proceed to bondage, and from bondage to blood. There is no sin more dangerous, more desperate, than that of malice ; but the power of tyrants often fails of answering their will. The pro- moters of mischief cannot always meet with equally mischievous agents. The fear of God teaches these w6men to disobey an unjust command : they well knew that human injunc- tions are not a sufficient excuse for atrocious acts. God spake to their hearts, " Thou shalt not kill." This voice was louder than that of Pharaoh — who, while he saw that they rebelled against his word, was prevented by Omnipotence from executing vengeance on them for refusing to comply with his impious dictates. But what the midwives will not do the multitude shall effect — it were strange if wicked rulers should not find some instruments of violence. All the people arc called upon to become executioners of a tyrant's wrath. Now doth cruelty flame up ; now dares it proclaim its odious purpose. It is a miserable state where every man is enjoined to be a murderer ! There can be no greater argument of a bad cause than a bloody per- secution. Truth upholds herself by mildness, and is promoted by patience. ISRAEL IN EGYPT. 47 Such was their inhuman deed — what was the con- sequence 1 They who thus barbarously destroyed the children of the Israelites, by the just retribution of God, are deprived of their own children. They who caused these innocents to perish in the waters are themselves afterwards made to suffer in like manner. That law of retaliation which he does not permit his creatures to execute, himself with unerring justice can dispense. God would have us read our sins in our punishment, that we may at once repent of our transgressions and adore his righteous judgments. In the process of time another king of Egypt rises up, but to continue, not to deviate from the policy of his predecessor. The cruelties of the oppressor, the sufferings of the oppressed are the same. When at last he received a message from heaven commanding him to dismiss the people of God, then did his rage grow frantic : he was like the vapor in a cloud, which bursts with a fearful noise because it meets with opposition. A good heart yields to the still voice of God j but his merciful commands are treated with obdurate insolence by the wicked. Pharaoh takes pleasure in the servitude of Israel. God calls for a release; and requires what he knows will give displeasure to the tyrant whom he ad- dresses. How adverse are his precepts to unregene- rate souls ! It is a dangerous sign of an evil heart when God's yoke is deemed heavy. God speaks of sacrifice ; Pharaoh of work. To a car- nal mind nothing seems superfluous but religious du- ties. Christ tells us that there is one thing needful j the world insinuates that it is the only thing absolutely needless. God calls his people to devotion ; Pharaoh taxes them with idleness. While the wicked cast a specious veil over their own enormities they vilify the good actions of others. The same spirit which spake in Pharaoh now calls conscience singularity, and reli- 4-8 hall's scripture history. gion hypocrisy. Every vice hath a title, and every virtue a disgrace. Yet while possible tasks were imposed there was some comfort. Diligence might then preserve them from indignities. But to require what is not — cannot be accomplished, is tyranny in the extreme; it is the very madness of cruelty. They who are above others in power, must measure their commands, not by their own will, but by the ability of their inferiors. Tho task is not done — the task-masters are beaten — the children of Israel sigh for anguish of spirit and for cruel bondage — and their cry comes up unto God. 10.— MOSES BORN, AND CALLED. Many times doth God write presages of majesty and honor, even in the faces of children. This was emi- nently the case with Moses. Yet when his mother be- held her lovely babe with fear and anxiety, when she looked that some fierce Egyptian would come in and snatch him from her bosom, little did she think that she held in her arms the deliverer of Israel ! For a while she conceals him in her house from these messengers of death — but when she sees that her trea- sure can be no longer hid, she prepares him a bark of bulrushes and commits him to the mercy of the waves, to the protecting providence of God. Never was Moses in greater security, no not when myriads of Israelites pitched their tents around him in the wilderness, than now, when he was cast alone and feeble upon the waves — no water, no Egyptian can hurt him. Neither friend nor mother dares own him. MOSES BORN, AKD CALLED. 49 and lo, God provides for his safety. When we seem most neglected and forlorn in ourselves, then is He most present, most vigilant. The daughter of Pharaoh, by an impulse from heaven, is directed to the river. The merciful offspring of a cruel father sees the ark, opens it, finds the child weep- ing. The persuasive oratory hath its efiect ; her heart is struck with compassion ; and the wife of Amram is herself appointed to receive her child, both with au- thority and reward. The exchange of the name of a mothe^r for that of a nurse hath gained her both her son and the care of his education, and the blessing of God gives her success. The generous princess considers him not as a wretch- ed outcast whom it was only necessary to keep alive — she educates him as her son, in all the learning, all the grandeur of Egypt. But no doubt his pious mother early taught him that the honors of courts and palaces were not to prevent him from taking a part in the sor- rows of Israel. If we had the faith of Moses we should make his choice. Infidelity binds us to the world, and makes us prefer the momentary pleasures of sin to the everlasting recompense of reward. He went forth and looked on the burdens of Israel. What needed Moses to have afllicted himself with the cfliictions of others 1 He was at ease and pleasure in the court of Pharaoh. But a good heart can neither en> dure to be happy alone nor forbear to participate with others in their miseries. He is no true Moses who is not moved with the calamities of God's church. To sec an Egyptian smite a Hebrew urged him to assert his divine commission. He supposed his brethren would have understood that God, by his hand, would deliver them. He avenged him that was oppressed ; he smcte the Egyptian. Another Hebrew is stricken, but by a Hebrew j and Script. Hist. 3 50 HALL-^S SCRIPTURE IIISTOUY. now, instead of a deadly blow, Moses gives the aggres- sor a gentle admonition} reminds both parties of their common brotherhood and of their common adversities. The spirit of discord to this hour is equally active ; and christians, as if they had no foreign enemies, deal among each other every kind of destruction. While we ar,e in the Egypt of this world all unkind conten- tions would easily be composed if we did not forget that we are brethren. How bitter an answer doth Moses receive to this gentle reproof! None but the regenerate can say, " Let the righteous smite me, it shall be a kindness." Next to the not deserving a rebuke is the receiving it with hu- mility : but guilt makes a man easily provoked ; malice renders him incapable of good counsel ; and none are so great enemies to justice as those who are enemies to peace. " Wilt thou kill me as thou diJst theEgyptian 1" Had Moses slain him unjustly, what was this to the Hebrew 1 Another man's sin is no excuse for ours. What matters it who admonishes us of our faults 1 Let us look into our own hearts ; let us weigh the advice given. If that be good it may remedy the evil, come whence it may. Yet, behold the providence of God by means of this angry Israelite gives intimation to his faithful servant of the danger that awaited him. The intended insult preserves the life of Moses; he is aware of the wrath of Pharaoh; he flees — he escapes. Still, wherever his footsteps lead him he is an advo- cate for innocence. In Egypt he delivered the oppressed Israelite; in Midian the oppressed daughters of Jethro. Charity and faithfulness accompany his path and follow him in all his ways. Now has Moses changed the delicacies of Egypt for hunger in the fields of Midian; it is a lesson which must be learned by all God's children, to want as well MOSES BORN, AND CALLED. \ 51 ns to abound. But the act of justice he had so lately done brings with it a speedy recompense. Jethro re turns it kindly by hospitable entertainment. A good dis- position is ever ready to requite courtesies ; we cannot do too much for a thankful man. And if a generous heathen reward Moses in so bountiful a manner for giv- ing drink to his flock, how shall our God recompense a cup of cold water only that is given to a disciple 1 Moses has now an asylum ; he obtains for a wife one of those damsels he had formerly protected. Jethro finds him valiant, wise, learned, nobly educated, and joyfully gives him his 'daughter. Yet all this kindness cannot make him forget the afflictions of his people; while absent from them he calls himself " A stranger in a strange land." If Moses so thought of his Egyp- tian home where was nothing but bondage and tyranny, how should we think of that our future, our glorious home, where is nothing but joy and blessedness. Yet was the deliverer of Israel forty years an hum- ble shepherd ; so long did the leader of God's people rest in contented obscurity, and willingly leave the world to others while he had freedom of thought ^nd full opportunity for holy meditation. He who hath re- sources in himself and can hold converse with God, can find more pleasure in the desert than others can do in the palaces of kings. While he is tending his sheep Jehovah appears to him, God addresses not the idle and inactive — when he finds us in our callings we find him in the tokens of his mercy. God was always present with Moses — but he was not seen till now. He is never absent from his children — sometimes he condescends to appear to the evidence of their senses. When we look on this burning bush with Moses, what a lively emblem do we see of the church which then in Egypt was suffering affliction ! a church persecuted but not forsaken j cast 52 hall's scripture history, down but not destroyed ! The same power which en- lightens it preserves it, and to none but to liis eue- mies is he a consuming fire. In that appearance God nieant to call Moses; but when he is come he forbids his advancing too nearly. When we meditate on the glorious truths of his Gos- pel we come to him ; we come too near him when we pry into his mysterious counsels. The sun and fire forbid our immediate access ; how much more that Light which no man can approach 1 the weaves of the sea have not more need of bounds than mortal pre- sumption. Behold the patriarchs still live after so many years of dissolution. '' I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." No length of time can separate the souls of the just from their Maker. If he had said, " I am the glorious God that made heaven and earth; I dwell in light inaccessible, which the an- gels cannot behold; I am God the Avenger, jast and terrible, repaying vengeance to mine enemies;" then would the carnal heart have trembled. But to the up- right^ God is awful in his mercies. " There is forgive- ness with Thee, that Thou mayst be feared." The wicked heart regards not God but when thundering, or shaking the earth or raining fire from heaven ; the good can fear him in his very sunshine. Jacob, the true ancestor of Moses, when he saw nothing but visions of love and mercy, could say, " How dreadful is this place!" Behold the difference between our present and our future state ! There the more majesty of appearance the more delight. When our sin is gone, our fear as well as sorrow shall be turned into joy. God appeared to Adam in his innocence with comfort ; but the same form, after his fall, was insupportable. And if Moses cannot endure to look on his glory when he descends THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT. 53 in mercy, how shall the wicked abide his fearful pre- sence when he ariseth to shake terribly the earth 1 11.— THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT. That flesh and blood should receive a message from heaven is an act of condescension which passeth un- derstanding. Yet here "God sends an embassy to man, and is repulsed. Well may he ask, " What is man^ that I should look upon himV But for man to ask, " Who is the Lord!" is a proud and bold blasphemy. Pharaoh shall know in the event, and all the world by his means, who the Lord is whom he thus rejected. All God's judgments stand ready, and wait but till they are called for. They need but the word to be given them. No sooner is the rod lifted up than they are gone forth into the world. All the troops of God came rushing upon his adversaries. All creatures con- spire to take vengeance on the disobedient. Above them the Egyptians have thunder, lightning, hail, tem- pest ; at one time no light at all, at another such fear- ful flashes as had more terror than darkness. Under them the waters are changed into blood, the earth swarms with noisome reptiles and insects. They see their fruits destroyed, their cattle smitten, themselves afnicted with grievous sickness, their children suddenly snatched away by death. First, God begins his judgment with waters. They had defiled the river with the blood of innocents, and now it appears to them as a memorial of their guilt, a monument of their past cruelty, a presage of their future destruction. 54 hall's scripture history. It is hard to say whether in this plague there were more horror or annoyance — yet the rod is lifted up again, and that Nilus which they adored becomes again their tormentor. Loathsome reptiles leave their element to punish the fury of the oppressors. Yet even this ■wonder, as well as the preceding, the magicians are al- lowed to imitate. God makes use of his enemies as in- struments of vengeance — for himself he reserves his acts of mercy. Still Pharaoh is hardened and the sorcerers insolent. Behold, while this pride is at its height they are in a moment brought into confusion. The rod is lifted up — the dust receives life — lice abound every where — no distinction is made between beggars and princes: the rivals of Moses are foiled and abashed ; thej^^ are com- pelled to exclaim, *' This is the finger of God." The water was annoyed by the first plague, the earth by the second and third. The fourth fills the air, the winged army of an indignant God. He who gave these hornets a being, gave them their limits ; they can nei- ther sting an Israelite nor spare an Egyptian. I And now the heart of Pharaoh begins to melt. " Go, serve your God in this land — Go into the wilderness, but not far away !" Alas, how soon does he return to his rebellion ! Good resolutions, in carnal hearts, are merely transient guests. Now neither the contagion of his cattle nor the pestilential boils of his people can move him. To what a height of obduracy will sin lead men, and most of all sins, infidelity ! Amidst these storms Pharaoh sleeps till he is roused by the voice of God's mighty thunders and hail mingled with fire. Then he starts and exclaims, "God is righteous; I and my people are wicked ; pray for us !" But the thunder is no sooner over than he relapses into his dis- obedience. Again the plague of the locusts startles hina ; for when he considers the fish destroyed with the THE PLAGUES OF EGiTT. 55 first plague, the cattle with the fifths the corn with the seventh, the fruit and leaves with this eighth, and nothing left him but a bare desolate earth to live on, necessity drives him into a temporary submission. " Forgive me this once ; take away from me this death only." Constrained repentance is short and fruitless. The west wind, with the locusts, drives away his remorse — and now he is ready for another judgment. Now a gross darkness, a darkness real and sensible, takes away the sight of heaven. Now they imagine that the sun is lost out of the firmament ahd withdrawn for ever; that all things are returning to their original confusion when darkness was on the face of the deep. All think them- selves miserable, past remedy; whilst the obduracy of Pharaoh is changed into desperation. '' Get thee from me, see my face no more ; when thou seest my face thou shalt die." What is this but to seek for the pun- ishment and fly from the remedy! When God's mes- sen