In the services of religion, it becomes us to ascend above all temporal considerations, and regard exclusively the will of God. Elkanah, however, even at the solemn and public festival, unhappily gave a worthy or double portion to Hannah, which was the ancient mode of expressing peculiar affection. This was likely to inflame, rather than to extinguish strife; and though done, no doubt, with the kind attention of alleviating the sorrows of his best beloved partner, was a sad display of weakness, and a miserable profanation of the worship of God. Peninnah had children, Hannah the affections of her husband; the former persecutes, and the other weeps. Who would not have indulged the pleasing hope, that the worship of God, that cement of society, that healing remedy for the disorders of the moral world, would have quieted contention; and that the flames of animosity would not have mingled with the hallowed fires of sacrifice! It was well meant in Elkanah to bring all his household together to the tabernacle in Shiloh—

"Religion should extinguish strife, And make a calm of human life."

If we cannot be reconciled at the altar, it is an indication of rooted antipathy, and will neutralize the effect of our entreaties for divine forgiveness. "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord," said David, "will not hear me." The salutary effect of Elkanah's measure was prevented by the continuance of discord. Year after year this mischievous spirit prevailed. Elkanah was unable to conciliate Peninnah, or to sooth Hannah. The good man was rendered wretched, both by the temper of the one and the tears of the other: the latter, however, was the most intolerable. "Hannah," said he, "why weepest thou? why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? Am not I better to thee than ten sons?"

There is something soothing and gentle in this remonstrance, which bespeaks the affection of Elkanah, and exhibits his pacific character in an advantageous light. He does not directly interpose to settle the point of domestic difference by the stern dictation of authority, but with a kind hand endeavours to wipe away the falling tears of his disconsolate wife. Nothing is more difficult than properly to administer reproof, except it be properly to receive it. Elkanah seems, on this occasion, to have managed it with extreme delicacy, and with happy success. He kindly insinuated, that she ought to feel consolation in her husband's regard; and that a becoming submission to Providence is at all times our duty. She might have suffered not only the affliction which she so deeply deplored, but the still greater distress of her partner's aversion. If he had been alienated, or even if his regard had been only diminished, there would have existed a more plausible pretence for incessant grief; but although Peninnah was blest with children, Hannah was best beloved. Would the latter have been willing to exchange advantages? would she have descended from a pre-eminence so justly valued, for the sake of a family? Doubtless it was her wish to unite these comforts; to retain the love of Elkanah, and to rival the children of Peninnah. But it is our duty, and would prove eminently conducive to our happiness, to improve the blessings we enjoy, rather than to cherish undue solicitude for what Providence does not see fit to confer.

There does, by no means, exist that inequality in the distribution of divine favours, which our impatience tempts us to imagine. One thing is set over against another; comforts are associated with crosses: and if we were in a situation, or possessed a capacity, to estimate with exactness the proportion of good and evil in the individual condition of mankind, it is more than probable we should find the balances by which these proportions are determined most accurately poised. We may safely, and ought unhesitatingly, to trust the hands in which they are placed, and the power that regulates their distribution.

If the language of Elkanah may be considered as honourable to his general spirit, the silent obedience of Hannah was no less illustrative of her extraordinary excellence. How many tempera would have been exasperated by such an appeal; and instead of drying up the tears of grief, and proceeding to partake food, would have instantly retorted both upon the intercessor and the rival! She might have demanded why her husband, instead of asking her to conceal her sorrows, did not rather reprove the provoking conduct of Peninnah, and silence her exasperating tongue? Availing herself of the decided preference shown her, she might have aimed at making her husband a party in the dispute; and, by his means, have triumphed over her adversary. But Hannah was influenced by far different sentiments. To her husband's remonstrances she appears to have returned no answer: nor was it a sullen silence; for she took food, interrupted no longer the festivities of the occasion, but, painful as the struggle must have been, heroically concealed her own feelings till the termination of the public solemnities.

"After they had eaten in Shiloh, and after they had drunk," Hannah continued in "bitterness of soul," and rose up to withdraw. But whither did she go? Whither, under circumstances like these, was it natural for her to fly? Perhaps into solitude to bemoan her sad situation, to pour out her unrestrained tears, to anathematize her insulting rival, to plot revenge, to curse the day of her birth. The stream of grief and complaint might be expected to flow, in the secret hour, with accelerated force and rapidity, proportioned to the restraint which publicity had imposed. She did not, however, yield to this influence, or retire for such a purpose. Perhaps she withdrew to seek the counsel of a friend, or solicit the prompt interference of others who pitied her sufferings, to check Peninnah, or to stimulate Elkanah to stronger measures. Such a proceeding was not unlikely; it was not, however, the one she adopted. Perhaps, then, it may be supposed, she went home to wait for some favourable opportunity of urging her husband to discard Peninnah, and of exasperating his prejudices against her. It was indeed natural for her to pursue either or of all these courses; but she chose a different one. The pious mourner has another and a better resource. If she look around her for comfort in vain, she can look above. She may be pressed on every side—difficulties and distresses accumulating in every direction—foes behind, and seas of trouble before—but the opening into heaven is free; the ear of mercy is not shut; the way of access to God never can be closed! "And she vowed a vow, and said, O Lord of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thine handmaid, and remember me, and not forget thine handmaid, but wilt give unto thine handmaid a man-child, then I will give him unto the Lord all the days of his life, and there shall no razor come upon his head."

This solemn address to Heaven exemplifies some of the essential qualities of genuine prayer. It is marked by reverence and godly fear; for she appeals to "the Lord of hosts," whose prerogative it is to marshal the celestial armies, and to regulate with undeviating skill and irresistible influence the affairs of this lower world: it displays profound humility; for she repeats the simple and self-abasing term, "thine handmaid:" it expresses submission and dependence of spirit; for she refers with implicit obedience to the determinations of the divine will, as comprising whatever is best calculated to promote her real interests, though without presumption, she solicits Omnipotent interference to remove her affliction, if it should comport with the arrangements, and seem proper to the wisdom of God; it manifests an importunity which will always operate with more or less intenseness in every genuine prayer. Her solemn vow, her judicious repetitions, her whole phraseology, evince this prevailing disposition. She kindles with holy fervour, and seems to stretch forth her eager hand to take the blessing which she cannot persuade herself will be refused. She is fully aware that power and goodness combine in perfect proportions to influence the dispensations of the God whom she addresses, and pleads with success, because she pleads with fervour.

Nor is Hannah the first or the last witness to the apostolic assurance: "the effectual fervent prayer of the righteous availeth much." It is not indeed insinuated, that importunity in soliciting favours is invariably successful. Unquestionably, many considerations of propriety, necessity, and adaptation, must be understood to enter into the account. The spirit of dictation must not blend with that of earnestness, nor must we deem ourselves qualified to determine the time, the manner, or the proportion of divine communications; but, so far as relates to the spirit of prayer, importunity is materially connected with success, and coldness with failure: the former advances, and the latter negatives our supplications, even while we present them. There are cases of extraordinary ardour, which can be measured by no common standard; moments of outgoing after God, seasons of inexpressible sensibility, when the mind possesses an invincible persuasion of success, which is at once the dictate of the Holy Spirit, and the certain indication of acceptance. Faith discerns the blessing, with a distinctness hitherto unknown, and love burns with a vigour hitherto unfelt. A certain persuasion pervades the soul that its entreaties cannot fail, that the contemplated good is its destined portion; and amidst the deepest, the most unusual impression of unworthiness, its assurance is sustained by a vivid remembrance of the promises, and an overwhelming consciousness of personal interest in them: all obstacles seem to remove, or to vanish at the first touch; every thing yields before the pursuit of zeal, distance disappears, time dwindles into a moment, and the mind at once enters upon a paradise of possession. In the very midst of discouragements, the supplicant becomes a hero, and triumphs by a prevailing power, analogous to that of a great conqueror, whose very consciousness of superiority wins an otherwise doubtful battle, and gives him a victory even by anticipation. Amidst the provocations of her rival, and the soothings of her husband, Hannah could only weep and fast: but at the footstool of mercy, she wrestles like Jacob, and prevails like Israel. She rises above herself, no longer the despised and desponding mourner, but the accepted and the triumphant suppliant. Thus devotion not only sanctifies, but ennobles character. It awakens all the energies of our nature, directs them to their proper object, and supplies an ample sphere for their exercise. It produces extraordinary elevation, and creates a heaven in the exercise of faith, and in the sphere of duty.

It cannot excite surprise, that a mere spectator, even though he be a pious spectator, should, on such occasions as these, mistake the outward indications of inward feeling. Objections will sometimes arise in persons of cooler temperament or more constitutional apathy to the enthusiasm of younger and more ardent Christians, founded altogether in misapprehension, not like those of the world, in impious dislike. That the latter should miscal the holy ecstacies of religion enthusiastic and rhapsodical, we do not wonder; since they cannot understand them by that medium through which alone they become comprehensible, the medium of experience: nor need we feel much astonishment at the occasional mistakes of the former, when it is recollected, that the external indications of the passions are often equivocal.

This was the case with Hannah. Eli, the venerable priest, was sitting upon a seat by a post of the temple; and either from want of charity, or a defect of eyesight, he pronounced a precipitate judgment upon this good woman, whom he strangely imagined to have been in a state of intoxication. Hannah, it appears, "spake in her heart; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard." This excited the unjust suspicions of Eli, who immediately charged her with gross immorality. "How long" said he, "wilt thou be drunken? Put away thy wine from thee."

It may be admitted, as an extenuation of this rude attack, that the good priest was jealous for the honour of his God, whose temple he supposed was suffering profanation by indecent conduct: and that, instead of turning tale-bearer and whisperer, he openly expressed his sentiments to the party concerned, affording an opportunity for acknowledgment or explanation. Still his precipitancy cannot be justified. It was his duty to have obtained better evidence, before he ventured upon such a crimination; or, at least, to have been more ceremonious and considerate. Reproof may be well merited; but, in order that its end be answered, it should be properly administered. Gentleness and mercy should blend their benign influences with justice. We are ourselves liable to error, and have no right to assume the tone of severity, or the air of triumph, when required to notice blameable conduct. If we should be mistaken, either in the general fact, or in the circumstances, upon some of which we may have dwelt with unkind severity, the reproof will not only affect us by a strong and most unwelcome reaction, but in many instances furnish the transgressor with means of defending himself in what was actually wrong, and thus nullify our testimony, and harden his mind.

Admirable, indeed, was the reply of Hannah. "No, my lord," said she, "I am a woman of sorrowful spirit, I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before the Lord. Count not thine handmaid for a daughter of Belial; for out of the abundance of my complaint and grief have I spoken hitherto."

Nothing could be a more complete vindication of herself than this respectful, dispassionate, and dignified language. She merely disclaims the unjust imputation of her accuser, and explains the true cause of her emotions. If she had been resentful and clamorous, the suspicion of Eli would rather have been confirmed than removed; but her innocence shone forth as the noon-day, unclouded by irritability or violence.

There is usually a marked difference between innocence and guilt, in the mode of treating accusations: the latter boisterous and impatient; the former gentle, calm, and moderate, comparatively careless of misrepresentations, and often silent; the latter adopts any artifice to shun the light, the former affords every facility to investigation. If a character be free from the stain of guilt, it will not shrink from those proceedings which tend to hold it up to the light, and which of course only exhibit its perfect transparency.

Eli, perceiving his mistake, disdains to persist in it. Like a man of integrity and piety, he corrects himself at once, dismisses her with a blessing, and prays for her success. This was making the best possible reparation, and it was done with a promptness which evinced its sincerity. The good man was as ready to express his approbation, when convinced of Hannah's innocence, as he had been to censure her conduct, when he imagined it to be culpable.

In this transaction, we perceive him practising one of the most difficult of duties; and if the wife of Elkanah be worthy of imitation for a respectful and modest defence against a false accusation, the pious priest of the Lord is no less so for retracting a hasty judgment, and instantly exchanging frowns for smiles, reproof for applause, cursing for blessing. In most cases, the offending party is the last to be reconciled; and mistake is frequently adhered to with an obstinacy, and defended with a pertinacity, proportioned to the haste with which it has been adopted. Look inward. What is the present state of your minds respecting the errors you have committed, or the wrong steps you have taken, and of which you are deeply conscious? Have you adopted any measures to give satisfaction to an injured party, or, are you disposed to that concession which you know your past improprieties require? To trifle with the character of another is cruel—to persist in misrepresentation is wicked. Can you expect pardon of God, while living in the indulgence of an unforgiving spirit towards your fellow-creatures? Justice requires, and Christianity insists, upon reparation. O listen to their united voice! Hasten to wipe off the stain which your carelessness, or your malignity, has flung upon the white robe of innocence! Hasten to dry up the tears which you have caused the sufferer to shed: hasten to heal the wound you have foolishly, perhaps wickedly, inflicted.

This duty, remember, is not superseded even by the ill conduct of the person you have made your foe. If, instead of submitting to your unkindness, or bearing your mistake with the meekness of Hannah, you have been loudly denounced—if you have been represented as a calumniator, and railing has been rendered for railing—if the injured person have even taken advantage of your error to reproach you in turn, and circulated a thousand mis-statements to your disadvantage, you are still under the greatest obligations to correct and apologize for your original error. Never can you be justified in the eyes of impartial men; never can you stand upon the high ground of an unblemished reputation, and become invulnerable to attack; never can you obtain the divine approbation, till you have adopted this measure. Neither conscience, reason, nor religion, will admit that the aspersions of another justify your slanders. His persistance is no reason against your concession.

Restored to tranquillity and happiness, Hannah withdrew from the temple, and "her countenance was no more sad." Her innocence was apparent to the priest, her petition heard in heaven. She went up weeping, she returned rejoicing. Devotion had pacified her troubled breast, and since "committing her way to the Lord," the tide had ebbed, the sky had cleared. She knew that her request would be granted, or, if denied, that she should see occasion ultimately to feel perfect acquiescence and satisfaction in the determinations of Providence. She, therefore, wiped away her tears, and dismissed her anxiety. Such is the relief afforded by humble prayer. How often has sorrow been transformed into joy by religious exercises! From the dark vale of life, where the winds blow and the rains descend, how often has the pious mourner ascended to that sacred mount of communion with God, the closet, or to the "holy hill of Zion," and dwelt in the sunshine of heaven! Agitated no longer with conflicting elements, and mysterious events, the clouds have appeared far, far below; while the omnipotent hand has been seen engaged in regulating their movements, directing their course, and preparing to disperse them in every direction.

It is obvious that no combination of happy circumstances, no human power, no earthly friendship, could have afforded substantial consolation to Hannah, if she had not repaired to the mercy-seat. Already had her affectionate husband attempted, in vain, to sooth her grief. He had renewed his love, wiped off her tears, kindly remonstrated and reasoned with her.—Hannah! "am not I better to thee than ten sons?" Ah! what avails it! Elkanah can sympathize, but he cannot relieve—he can reason, but he cannot remove the cause of her sorrows—he cannot turn the course of nature, or renew the springs of existence—he cannot change weakness for strength, or convert barrenness into fertility: but he who has all resources in his hands, all elements and worlds at his disposal, can; and, at the voice of prayer, will accomplish the holy desires of the mind. See, Christians, your best resource, your ultimate appeal, your distinguished privilege! "God sitteth upon the throne of his holiness."

Henceforward, the sacred narrative omits the name of Peninnah, and there is nothing in her history to induce a wish to penetrate the concealing veil. She was, in fact, originally introduced to notice for the purpose of illustrating the more valuable qualities of Hannah, whose excellence continues to shine with indiminished lustre to the end of her days. It is indeed profitable, as a warning, to contemplate specimens of moral deformity as well as examples of moral worth; but we naturally hasten from the offensive, to the pleasing and attractive forms of female character. Peninnah perishes unregretted from the page—Hannah continues to adorn it, and obtains an everlasting remembrance.

On the day fixed for the return of this pious family, it is stated that they rose early in the morning, and worshipped before the Lord. It is deplorable, that so many of our thoughtless race should live from day to day, and from year to year, in a state of perfect estrangement from the duties of devotion. Whirled about in the circle of dissipation, or busied with the cares of the world, they forget God their Maker; and, though the constant recipients of mercies which flow to them in uninterrupted succession, they never acknowledge, they can scarcely be said to know the Giver. The most important transactions, schemes, and journeys, are undertaken without once committing themselves to the guidance or protection of that Providence which is observant of their steps, and supplies them, notwithstanding their ingratitude. How pleasantly do they proceed, who, like the family of Elkanah, first solemnly present themselves before the Lord, and commence every business and every day with an act of worship! It is true they are not exempted from misfortune, or rendered invulnerable to the attacks of evil; but they are well prepared for, and will be graciously sustained in every vicissitude.

[Sidenote: Years before Christ, 1155.]

The predestined hour having arrived, a son was born to Hannah, whom she named Samuel; "because," said she, "I have asked him of the Lord." Sometimes, what has been sought with importunity, is received with coldness, or enjoyed with ingratitude. No sooner is the blessing bestowed, no sooner is the tear of agony dried up, than every pledge is forgotten, and the mind relapses into thankless indifference. The sun shines, and our impressions pass away with the storm. But Hannah adopted a measure well calculated to excite every member of the family, and his mother in particular, to a perpetual recurrence to the goodness of Providence. She was resolved upon an expedient, by which the flame of gratitude might be kept incessantly burning in her breast. Could she ever look upon Samuel without recollecting he was "asked of God?" Could she ever repeat the name of her beloved first-born, without thinking of the Hearer of prayer? Amidst the ecstasies of maternal love, when she witnessed the infant sportings, and traced the expanding faculties of her Samuel, how often would she remember the stirrings of her spirit, and the sad days of her reproach. Once she had scarcely indulged the hope of being a mother, much less the mother of so remarkable a child. Once she wept in bitterness of soul, now she shed tears of parental transport.

Assiduity in the discharge of maternal duties is the next distinguishing excellence of Hannah to which our attention is invited. The sensibilities of her character seemed to have remarkably qualified her for the new station she was called to occupy after the birth of her child.

Providence has so wisely and so kindly ordered the connection subsisting between the parent and the offspring, and has rendered human nature, even in its depraved state, so susceptible of fine impressions and feelings, that the moment this relationship commences, a sort of new character is superinduced.

When a dependant little being is presented, a careful and protecting disposition is generally displayed; the arm of support is readily held forth to the weakness of infancy, and the most inconsiderate and volatile of women are, by a natural instinct—a certain powerful, indefinable transformation—converted to sober habits and necessary attentiveness—Who can withhold his admiration of this singular economy, or refuse to admit the interference of an invisible and wonderworking God! If this be the effect in ordinary instances, it is easy to imagine that the wife of Elkanah proved an exemplary instance of diligence and goodness when she became a mother. For such an honourable situation she was peculiarly qualified by her gentleness and piety. The precious gift, for which she had been so solicitous, was nursed with fondness, and eventually presented with all a mother's, with all a Christian's joy, to the Lord in Shiloh.

At the next anniversary festival, Elkanah went up to fulfil a vow he had made, and to renew the dedication of himself and his family to the divine service. Hannah accompanied him in spirit, but was prevented from a personal attendance by her little lovely dependant: she intimated to her husband the propriety of her remaining at home, pledging herself to undertake the pleasing journey when the child was weaned. "Then," said she, "I will bring him, that he may appear before the Lord, and there abide for ever." It is no honour to religion for its professors to neglect the duties of civil life under the pretence of superior sanctity: in vain do those who disregard their families apologize for their misconduct by pleading their diligence in pious services. Religion not only requires a punctuality of observance in reference to its more public engagements, but demands an unremitted attention to those of a more private, social, and domestic nature: these ought not indeed to be viewed apart, in a separate and disunited form, but as constituting a beautiful whole. Religion, in fact, consists both in diligence and devotion, in the occupation of our stations in society, as well as in fulfilling the services of the sanctuary; in nursing and educating the child, as well as in presenting the sacrifice, or keeping the holy festival of saints.

Elkanah fully concurred with the arrangements of Hannah. Happy is it for that family where the domestic hearth is cheered by love and the altar by piety. Happy they, whose affection, planted in religion, resembles a flourishing tree that spreads its shade over the united household. Hannah consulted her husband, and stated the reasons of the plan she had devised—Elkanah listened to the representations of his wife, and instantly assented.

"Do," said he, "what seemeth thee good; tarry until thou hast weaned him; only the Lord establish his word. So the woman abode, and gave her son suck until she weaned him."

How beautiful is the allusion of the royal psalmist to this important period in the history of infancy: "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty, neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me. Surely I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that, is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child."

It costs, indeed, a severe struggle to alienate the little offspring from the breast from which it has drawn the means of subsistence, and, for a short time, uneasiness and fretfulness may be the result; but when the days of weaning are accomplished, the long-valued provision is regarded with total indifference. Strong is the conflict and sharp the encounter between a sense of duty and an inclination to sin, when the world presents those fascinating pleasures which are so adapted to the appetites of nature; but having obtained the victory—having, through the grace of God, triumphed over the enticement, a real Christian will contemplate the glories of this world which once enchanted him, with an indifferent eye, and seek more substantial blessings. What naturally afforded satisfaction, will, in a renewed state of mind, excite aversion or be treated with neglect. The propensity being conquered, will never, or but partially return, and if not absolutely exterminated, it can never again acquire an ascendancy. The soul is become, in reference to the fleeting honours and possessions of time, like a "weaned child."

It is at once our duty and felicity to aim at this detachment of affection from the vanities of life, to cherish a holy disinclination toils allurements, and to seek our bliss in the unfading good which Scripture recommends and Heaven dispenses. An interest in the love of God, by faith in the Redeemer, is the supreme enjoyment to which we are encouraged to aspire, and which alone can fill the capacities and consummate the blessedness of intelligent and immortal creatures. Pitiable is the situation of those who are still attached, with childish fondness, to what cannot promote their spiritual growth, and befits not their advancing maturity. "Let Israel," then, "hope in the Lord from henceforth and for ever."



Section II.

Samuel is devoted to the Service of the Sanctuary—Uniformity of Character exemplified in Hannah—her Song paraphrased—five other Children born to Hannah—View of her natural Kindness and self-denying Piety.

As soon as the time proposed by Hannah had elapsed, she thought of fulfilling her vow, and hastened to Shiloh. In the days of her distress she had pledged herself to devote her child to the service of God; in the days of her prosperity she does not forget the obligation. Never, so far as we can discover, was a more perfect example of female excellence and persevering religion: in adversity and in prosperity, in sorrow and in joy, the light of her piety shone with undiminishing splendour. She had virtues appropriate to every season, and conspicuous in every situation: in affliction she cannot be reproached with impatience, nor in success with ingratitude.

When Samuel was weaned, she took him with her, with three bullocks, an ephah of flour, and a bottle of wine, determining to leave him with the priest, for the purpose of being trained up to the service of the tabernacle. It was an equal honour to the pupil and the tutor, the one to have such a priest as Eli, the other to have such a child as Samuel. With all the dignity of innocence and all the pleasure of devotion, she presented the little stranger to Eli, reminding him of the occasion when she first pledged herself to consecrate the child she requested to the work of the sanctuary, and explaining a vow of which he was previously ignorant. It is true that God and her own soul were the only witnesses and hearers of this vow; but she did not deem it the less obligatory though it was made in secret, nor was her upright mind the less anxious for its punctual fulfilment: "And they slew a bullock, and brought the child to Eli. And she said, O my lord, as thy soul liveth, my lord, I am the woman that stood by thee here, praying unto the Lord. For this child I prayed; and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of him: therefore also I have lent him to the Lord: as long as he liveth he shall be lent to the Lord."

There is an exquisite delicacy in this language. The allusion to her former appearance in the house of God is as cursory as could be devised to enable the good priest to recognize her. Eli is reminded of her former prayers; but not a syllable is uttered tending to criminate or to reflect upon his past precipitancy and misrepresentation. She tells a simple story, in a candid and respectful manner. The points of deepest interest are introduced, and her darling child is devoted forever, and with unreluctant zeal, to the God of her salvation.

Let the impatient and revengeful study the example of Hannah, who did not allow herself to utter an angry word, or even to cherish a resentful feeling against Eli, when he preferred against her an inconsiderate and aggravating accusation; much less did she indulge a spirit of malignity. How many would have felt an invincible aversion, even though his frank acknowledgment had compelled them to a momentary reconciliation; and, viewing his character ever after through the medium of prejudice, would have magnified every feeling, and flung their public reproaches, or circulated their secret whispers and surmises against this venerable minister of the tabernacle. It becomes the people of God to be careful of the reputation of their brethren, and aim to wipe off the aspersions with which the world is apt to depreciate their characters, rather than to unite in the clamours of defamation. Men in official situations are placed upon a pinnacle which renders them conspicuous, and envy is always ready to shoot at them its envenomed darts. They have their faults indeed, but let charity cover them: they may have also their counterbalancing excellencies—let piety observe and imitate them. Should the criminal conduct of such persons belie their general profession, dishonour the religion they profess, and render it necessary to displace them, we ought to tremble for ourselves, and not triumph in their fall. Who would be qualified to cast the first stone, if his offences were all detected, exposed, and treated with merciless severity? The practice of dedicating children to God, is, we perceive, sanctioned by the usage of high antiquity; but, what is far better, it is conformable to reason and Scripture. Sometimes, indeed, it is accompanied with much absurdity and superstition; but, when properly attended to, it secures many advantages. Prayer, at all times important, is peculiarly effectual when offered in so solemn a manner: and if, in ordinary cases, it procure the blessings of Heaven, a well-founded hope may be excited, that the interesting little object of such a service will reap some substantial benefits. It tends besides to purify the domestic affections, and to regulate their exercise. The child which is bestowed in answer to prayer, and by prayer is, at the very dawn of existence, consecrated to God, and committed to the future care and guidance of his providence, is regarded with a new kind of feeling even by its parents; their fondness receives a peculiar tone and character from their piety; the motive to seek its spiritual interest is strengthened by their holy vows; and they cannot but feel an additional motive to impart early instruction, to cultivate its expanding faculties, and form the young immortal both for its present and ultimate destination.

Devote, then, ye mothers of Israel, devote your babes to piety and God! Hesitate not to incur the solemn responsibility which a vow implies in reference to your tender offspring: it is the most immediate method of making them your future comforts in this life, and your companions in a better. Your solicitude will at least afford you personal satisfaction; you will inherit the delightful consciousness of having done your duty: you may be happily instrumental in producing early impressions, and preparing them for their future crown. Then, should they depart from the world before you, to be "forever with the Lord," they will rise from their thrones of light to hail your approach, and mingle their thanksgivings and praises with yours in the songs of eternity.

Uniformity of character is a high attainment, of which Scripture history presents some pleasing specimens, though perhaps it affords more numerous instances of irregularity. The early life of some is nothing but the record of crime and folly, when the passions were indulged in unbridled licentiousness, and the moral creation groaned beneath the burden of their vices; but afterward retrieving their errors, they have become examples of sobriety, kindness, and religion. Others shone, forth at first with preeminent brightness, attracting the eyes of an extensive community to their juvenile excellence, and holding forth the best promises of futurity; but their goodness has proved like the morning cloud, and like the early dew, that passeth away; the eyes of parental tenderness, that once glistened with rapture and admiration, are suffused with tears; the church of God, that once hailed their zeal, is filled with regrets to witness its faded ardours and its altered nature. "How is the gold become dim, and the fine gold changed?" There is another, a sort of intermediate class, who have rather a doubtful complexion, some of whose actions indicate piety, others the reverse: at a distance they may be admired, but, upon a closer inspection, their principles are questionable, and, as our acquaintance with them increases, our respect irresistibly diminishes. Candour itself, which would put the most favourable construction upon them, is compelled to see new spots and blemishes in proportion as we perceive more distinctly their entire character.

The illustrious female, however, before us, exhibits a singular contrast to all these diversities. From the first to the last mention of her name in the page of Scripture, she challenges unmitigated admiration; she is uniform in every character: adversity and prosperity find her the same woman: she does not murmur in the one, she is not vain in the other. There is but a single variety in her character, arising from its progressive excellence. She is not the same, only because she is better; our veneration keeps pace with our knowledge. Her character does not, like that of many others, suffer by investigation; it does not resemble an object seen at some distance through a mist, which is magnified into unnatural dimensions, so that the illusion vanishes when you come near; but is like a tower seen afar off under a clear sky, swelling in majesty at every step of approximation.

We are now brought to the close of Hannah's history; it is even more splendid than its commencement. We have traced her through the various characters of a persecuted wife, a weeping suppliant, a misrepresented worshipper, a joyful mother, and a grateful saint, fulfilling her vows and devoting her first-born to the service of God. In some respects the latter must have proved a trying occasion, a duty of difficult execution; and we could have forgiven, we could have sympathized with the tears of a mother who was placed in the situation of violating her vows or giving up her darling; we could have pitied her struggles, while we commended their successful issue, in leaving her Samuel behind her at Shiloh. But she assumes a higher tone and spirit: the mother is absorbed in the saint; and, at the moment when we expected the language of parting regret and anxiety, behold, she bursts into a song of praise, and soars to the heights of prophecy.

This holy effusion is somewhat analogous to that of the mother of our Lord, which we shall hereafter have occasion to illustrate. In the mean time the hymn of Hannah claims our examination. It is called a prayer, because it was addressed to God as an act of worship, and because the acknowledgment and celebration of divine mercies constitute an important branch of devotion.

"My heart rejoiceth in the Lord; mine horn is exalted in the Lord: my mouth is enlarged over mine enemies: because I rejoice in thy salvation."

A vain mother might have celebrated her son, and, if she had expressed a general sense of divine goodness in his bestowment, would have dwelt with satisfaction upon his premature indications of greatness. Inordinate attachment to the gift is apt to obliterate from the mind a grateful recollection of the giver; and to this forgetfulness we are liable to be seduced by our affections. But Hannah cannot taste of the stream without being led to the fountain; she cannot receive mercies without viewing the hand that bestows them; nor be so enraptured with the blessing as to sink the Creator in the creature. In fact, Samuel is unnamed. His beauty, his pliability—whatever he really possessed, or whatever the fond eye of a mother fancied he possessed—all was forgotten, lost, and annihilated in God. Every valued blessing—her child, her husband, her possessions;—the whole creation vanished into nothingness before the thought of the "eternal ALL!"

The "horn" is an emblem of power and pre-eminence, and Hannah speaks of its exaltation. She had been degraded and despised for the childless condition, and had suffered reproach from the daughters of Israel, in particular from Peninnah; but she had now, through the mercy of God, risen to distinction, and obtained the object of her warmest solicitude. The lips which before moved in secret whispers or inarticulate prayer, are now taught to praise! The horn was also an instrument of music, and was lifted up to be sounded in the sacred chorus. In the days of David we read of the sons of Heman, who were to "lift up the horn;" and this pious woman perhaps borrowed the allusion to represent the ardour of her worship and the triumph that inspired her tongue.

If, with her solemn praises, Hannah blended a momentary recollection of the unkindness with which she had been treated, it was solely to express her thankfulness for deliverance, and not to produce a charge against her enemies. "Her mouth was enlarged," indeed, but not to utter the language of retaliation, not in passionate exclamations or in threatening words, but to memorialize the goodness of the Lord. Nor was this her only source of joy. Temporal interposition served but to remind her of spiritual blessings; and, while her spirit exulted in the birth of Samuel, she looked forward to a more auspicious day, and rejoiced in the "salvation" which should hereafter be accomplished by the incarnation of the Redeemer.

Winged with holy rapture, she now ascends far above all earthly interests and concerns; and quiting the subject, to which she had made but a transient allusion, though of the deepest personal importance, she meditates alone on infinite perfection:

"There is none holy as the Lord: for there is none besides thee: neither is there any rock like our God. Talk no more so exceeding proudly; let not arrogancy come out of your mouth; for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed."

The attributes of the Divine Being excite in the bosoms of the wicked unmingled dread. Every manifestation of his character is an appeal against their impieties, and hence they "desire not the knowledge of his ways." In a state of innocence the presence of the blessed God enhanced the felicities of Paradise, and nothing but the estrangement which sin has occasioned could have so altered the views and perverted the inclinations of mankind as to render the best of beings an object of terror; but in proportion to the renewal of the mind will be the return of that feeling of complacency which was cherished by unfallen man, and is felt by sinless immortals.

In all the principal events of her own life, and in the general regulation of human affairs, Hannah perceived a display of those perfections which she now celebrates; the perfections of holiness, power, omniscience, and justice. Nothing is better calculated to suppress the arrogance of man than the contemplation of these divine excellencies, which are so many rays of one ineffable glory; distinct yet blended; separate, yet harmonious in their operations. The history of pagan nations supplies ample proof that the spirituality of the divine essence, which implies the existence and exercise of these attributes, is too high an idea for a creature sunk under the dominion of his senses: he cannot ascend to the conception of infinite purity and wisdom: God is not known, and cannot be discovered as the searcher of hearts, and the righteous dispenser of good and evil, life and death: he cannot realize his unlimited dominion, nor imagine the pervading presence of that all-seeing eye which looks through the universe, penetrates every concealment, and observes, with leisurely and perfect survey, every movement of the soul. It is the province of revelation to disclose these great facts, and the privilege of piety to triumph in them.

"The bows of the mighty men are broken, and they that stumbled are girded with strength. They that were full have hired out themselves for bread; and they that were hungry ceased: so that the barren hath borne seven: and she that hath many children hath waxed feeble."

The dispensations of Providence illustrate his perfections. Often, indeed, they do not accord with human plans or expectations, but they are nevertheless marked with wisdom and equity. In accomplishing the mighty purposes of omnipotence the strong are sometimes weakened, and the feeble supplied with power; the wealthy are impoverished, and the poor enriched; the childless blessed with families, and those whose tables are surrounded with a smiling offspring made to weep over their fading health and glory. For,

"The Lord killeth, and maketh alive; he bringeth down to the grave, and bringeth up. The Lord maketh poor, and maketh rich: he bringeth low, and lifteth up. He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make them inherit the throne of glory: for the pillars of the earth are the Lord's, and he hath set the world upon them."

These changes are frequently ascribed, by unthinking mortals, to mere chance, or at least to the uncontrolled operation of second causes. Hannah ascribes them "to the Lord." Her faith discerned an invisible hand, and rejoiced in an omniscient superintendance. Whatever confusion appears to the eye of sense to prevail in the world, religion has access behind the scenes, observes the finger that touches the prime spring of this vast machine of providence, and sees nothing but harmonious movements, concurrent designs, merciful and intelligible plans, perfect and universal order. The perspective of human affairs is to such an one complete; he is placed by the fear of God in the very point of observance; he looks to the distant results, to the termination of the series, and every object, to his renewed sight, appears in just and proportionate dimensions. Unless seen from this point, every thing will be out of place and contradictory; and human arrogance will naturally arraign as irregular, imperfect, or unwise, what genuine piety will acknowledge to be best.

"He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness; for by strength shall no man prevail. The adversaries of the Lord shall be broken to pieces; out of heaven shall he thunder upon them: the Lord shall judge the ends of the earth; and he shall give strength unto his king, and exalt the horn of his anointed."

There is a progressive energy in this sacred song. Hannah warms into enthusiasm as she proceeds, till, under the influence of a heavenly inspiration, she assumes the language of prophecy, and becomes "wrapt into future times." At the opening, she expressed her gratitude for personal blessings; hence she is led to celebrate the perfections of Jehovah: then she proclaims the interference of his providence in the vicissitudes of this lower world: and finally, proceeds to contrast the destinies of the righteous and wicked, as resulting from the manifestation of the Messiah to rule over all nations by a spiritual and everlasting dominion. In that name which is above every name, in the hallowed name of the ANOINTED ONE, the song of Hannah terminates. What greater honour could be conferred on a woman than to be gifted with that spirit of prophecy which first announced the approaching Redeemer, to whom all the prophets gave witness? She speaks of his authority as a "King," his administration as a "Judge," his work as a Priest and Prophet, prefigured by that oil which was poured upon the most eminent of mankind, who were types of the distinguished Personage who was to come, and who is therefore designated as the Lord's "Anointed." How great his influence! "he will keep the feet of his saints!" How terrible his power! "the adversaries of the Lord shall be broken in pieces: out of heaven shall he thunder upon them." Preposterous indeed is the hope of his enemies, that they shall evade the destruction of his iron rod; while pleasing and well-founded is the expectation of his saints, who bow with unreluctant submission, with grateful acceptance, to his golden sceptre.

Almost twelve hundred years were yet until when Hannah uttered this prediction of the Messiah; and yet her faith, overleaping the ages of intervening time, beheld his glory, and triumphed in his salvation. No darkness could blind her perceptions, nothing could repress her love: she lived as it were, in advance, and, like many of her illustrious predecessors and of her posterity, believed in Christ to the saving of her soul.

These ages are passed away, and many more are numbered since the actual manifestation of the Son of God in human nature. We are partakers of his day; we live in the light of his glory: from the ages of prediction, we are advanced to those of accomplishment; from the time of shadows to the era of reality. And have we improved upon the past, in the strength of our faith or in the warmth of our attachment to the Lord of glory? Would a fair comparison of our state of mind with that of early saints, in far distant ages, prove advantageous or unfavourable to our character? Is our piety proportionate to our privileges? Does the intensity of our love equal the clearness of our discoveries? These are salutary questions, and questions of practical importance. Let us aim to be able to put them often to our consciences without a blush.

Very little more information is communicated respecting Hannah: her history is merged in that of her distinguished son. We have, however, a beautiful picture of her maternal character, a record of the blessing which the aged priest pronounced upon the family, and an account of five other children which Providence gave them: "Samuel ministered before the Lord, being a child girded with a linen ephod. Moreover his mother made him a little coat, and brought it to him from year to year, when she came up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice. And Eli blessed Elkanah and his wife, and said, The Lord give thee seed of this woman, for the loan which is lent to the Lord. And they went unto their own home. And the Lord visited Hannah, so that she conceived and bare three sons and two daughters."

The good mother and the eminent saint are delightfully blended in the wife of Elkanah, and the influence of each is obvious in Samuel. Eli seems to have beheld him with unusual affection. He had been early trained to gentleness, docility, and goodness. Discipline at home commenced from his first infancy, and continuing to the moment of his removal to Shiloh, prepared him for the course of life to which he was so soon introduced. Too often the petulance and frowardness of children indicate the defective nature of their education: indulgence has permitted the wild plant to shoot forth its branches with irregular luxuriancy, and it has become both unsightly and enfeebled for want of being properly pruned. To suffer the propensities and passions of children to go unrestrained is the extreme of cruelty, being the most direct means of rendering them burdens to society and tormentors to themselves.

Hannah, with admirable firmness, relinquished her youthful charge to the care of Eli at the call of duty, and with no less admirable affection and prudence, continued to maintain that kind of intercourse which tends to promote mutual love. A passionate mother would have urged her husband to remove to Shiloh, for the sake of having her little darling perpetually under her eye; a prudent one chose to remain at Ramah, only bringing her present at the annual festivals. True love knows when to separate, and is ready to make necessary sacrifices to the good of a valued child. He was in excellent hands, training to a noble work, under a venerable priest, and in conformity to a solemn vow. Providence was not unobservant of his mother's heroism and piety, and she is amply repaid, not only by his superior excellence, but by her own increasing family. One child is lent to the Lord, five are given. She possessed with gratitude, she resigned with magnanimity, and she is recompensed by multiplication.

Let children never forget the debt they owe to maternal tenderness, a debt which the devoted affection and kindness of a whole life can scarcely discharge. Let the fond parent who nursed your infancy, corrected your frowardness, sowed the seeds of knowledge and piety in your heart, watched, wept, and prayed over you, be ever dear, ever respected, and loved. She who has sustained your weakness, may live to need support from your strength; she who hold you up in the helplessness of infancy, may require your supporting arm, and deserves your sympathizing aid in the years of her decrepitude.

Young persons need to be reminded, however, that even the impiety of parents is no sufficient reason for disrespecting them as parents; and if you possess the inestimable treasure of religion, it will be best evinced in soothing the cares, ministering to the necessities, and setting an example of every duty before the eyes of those who are still so unhappy as to be destitute of it. But you who are born of the children of God, and who have been nourished and educated under the wing of parental piety, can never be too thankful to the God of your salvation, and at some future period may have to adopt the poet's elevated strain:

"My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise— The son of parents pass'd into the skies."

Cowper.



Abigail.

Chapter XI.



Many persons naturally capable of great Attainments and elevated Stations have lived and died unknown—the Dispensations of Providence analogous in this respect to the Arrangements of Nature—Scripture Account of Nabal and Abigail—Sources of Incongruous Marriages—Ambition—Wish to maintain the Respectability of a Family—Persuasion of Friends—early Disappointments—Nabal's Conduct to David—Abigail's Interposition—Death of her Husband—She becomes David's Wife.

Millions of the human race, naturally capable of great attainments and mighty exploits, had they been differently circumstanced, or had their mental and moral energies been properly cultivated, have died as they have lived, in a state of obscurity. Unknown to the rest of mankind even by name, they have scarcely wandered from the precincts of their native village, or the cottage that gave them birth; but, like the wild flowers of the untrodden wilderness, have sprung up, and bloomed, and perished upon the same spot. Successive generations have occupied the identical sphere of their ancestors, living in the same unenvied seclusion, and at last carried to the same undistinguished grave.

Whoever has had an opportunity of knowing the state of society and the character of man in retirement, must be aware that the amazing disparity subsisting between the extremes of rusticity and of polished life arises far less from original disproportions of capacity than from the accidental circumstances which attach to the two conditions. Education has a tendency to remove these differences, to elevate the inferior classes of society from their degradation, to raise them in the scale of being and to unite man to man: but still more important effects result from religion, which, by fixing the thoughts on holy and heavenly objects, and firing the breast with incessant ardour in the pursuit of them, advances the character to a dignity otherwise unattainable. How much humble piety has bloomed in the by-paths of life far from the crowded highway of the world, amidst the recesses of privacy! How often has the beauty of holiness adorned the most misshapen, or otherwise unattractive exterior! How many great and pious individuals have occupied the vale of poverty, the objects of divine approbation and of angelic joy; who, under different circumstances, might have been ornaments of the political world, or lights in the church of God; and will be pillars for ever in the celestial temple!

These dispensations of Providence are analogous to certain arrangements in nature. How many showers descend, and how many vegetable productions grow in barren wildernesses! It is not till after ages of research that a few species and varieties have been discovered; and it may be questioned whether an equal, if not a far greater number, still exist in the unfrequented solitudes of creation, which science may not visit for centuries yet to come: and of those which are at present known, a few only of their qualities, and the uses for which they were formed, have been ascertained. To pronounce a condemnatory sentence upon that wisdom which assigned them their places, merely on account of our incapacity to discover their precise destination, would be presumptuous and impious in the extreme; nor would it be less so to contemn the unsearchable mysteries of Providence, whose arrangements surpass the comprehension and confound the inquiries of man.

Some of those "lights shining in a dark place" have, however, been occasionally brought into view by unexpected circumstances; and more than one is exhibited through the medium of the inspired word. They would have for ever remained in concealment, and their names have perished, excepting from the book of God's remembrance, but for some apparent casualty. A history of incidents would furnish a most delightful record of Providence, showing its secret, but certain operations, and its connecting, though, to superficial observers, invisible links. One of these, in the life of David, presents the brief, but interesting account of ABIGAIL, who, like Job in Uz, Joseph in Egypt, and Daniel in Chaldea, exhibited a specimen of solitary excellence, which at length emerged from obscurity, and, by means of her connection with one of the most eminent of mankind, shone in an appropriate sphere.

[Sidenote: Years before Christ, about 1058.]

She is thus introduced to our notice, in the scriptural narrative, at a time when the son of Jesse was "hunted like a partridge upon the mountains" by his royal persecutor. "And David arose, and went down to the wilderness of Paran. And there was a man in Maon, whose possessions were in Carmel: and the man was very great, and he had three thousand sheep and a thousand goats: and he was shearing his sheep in Carmel. Now the name of the man was Nabal; and the name of his wife, Abigail: and she was a woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance: but the man was churlish and evil in his doings; and he was of the house of Caleb."

The contrast which the characters of Nabal and Abigail exhibit, may well excite astonishment, that persons so dissimilar should have become united by the tender ties of matrimony, and may lead us to inquire a little into the sources of some incongruities of this kind, which not unfrequently make their appearance in society. How is it, that adaptation to each other, in point of mental and moral qualities especially, which seems so great a prerequisite to happiness, should seldom form the basis of an union voluntarily contracted, and incapable of dissolution—an union of the closest nature, and an union for life?

Frequently an ill-assorted connection arises from an ambitious motive; one party is wealthy, the other aspiring. Attracted by the gilded bait, it is seized too eagerly to admit of prudential considerations respecting the possibility of concealed mischief, from which, like the fish once caught by the hook, it is too late to be disentangled. It cannot be asserted that Abigail was induced to marry her churlish husband from such a motive, though it will not be deemed improbable by those whose experience of the world convinces them that even persons like her, of good understanding, beauty, and piety, are sometimes guilty of similar improprieties. Riches are, on many accounts, attractive to those whose immaturity of judgment is dazzled by the glare of life, and who are consequently too apt to associate in their conceptions things which, in reality, have no connection—splendour and happiness. The mind is naturally gratified by a sense of elevation above the usual level of mankind, as persons ascending in an air-balloon become elevated, even amidst their dangers, in consequence of attaining a height impossible to others, and attracting the idle gaze of spectators on the ground. It is supposed also, that wealth will furnish some covert from the storms of adversity, if not a perfect security against them; and, forgetting that it tends to multiply and extend our wants in a ten-fold proportion to the means of supplying them, the sheep and the goats of a Nabal are viewed with ardent but mistaken fondness. It is difficult to convince the young of their errors upon this subject; nevertheless, we forewarn them that the experiment is hazardous, the prospect delusory, the possessions of life uncertain, and utterly incapable of compensating for the absence of moral qualities and social suitabilities; above all, we proclaim the criminality of cherishing an avaricious disposition, and the practical falsehood of giving it the name of love. A young woman acting upon this principle literally fulfils the common representation of the case, by throwing herself away, and, in one rash moment, forfeits her reputation and her happiness.

This unsuitability of connexion in married life sometimes originates in a mutual, but foolish wish to maintain the respectability of the family. In such instances both are wealthy, and join their fortunes as a sort of compromise to the opinion of the world and their own pride, for the sake of maintaining their rank. It is true, an equality, or some fair proportion in point of fortune, as society is constituted, seems in itself desirable, and, if it can be accomplished, is as legitimate an object of pursuit as similarity of age or of mind; but the practice of making this an absolute prerequisite, of sacrificing to it the affections of the heart, and, qualifications of far greater importance, of rendering the want of it a sufficient ground of refusing a matrimonial alliance, though age, temper, religion, and every commendable quality, may be placed in the other scale, and of deeming the possession of it enough when other great requisites are absent, is both foolish and wicked. No reason can exist, in such a case, why an Abigail—a woman of "good understanding," should connect herself with a Nabal—a man "churlish and evil in his doings."

Occasionally the same evil arises from the persuasion of others, especially of those who are entitled to respect, and who sometimes, very improperly, interpose authority instead of suggesting advice. The parties immediately concerned would by no means, if left to themselves, select each other as companions for life, but marry merely to satisfy their friends. It can never be regarded as otherwise than extreme cruelty in those who compel their children to gratify their predilections, instead of allowing them their own choice. As this is a connexion, the happiness of which so essentially depends upon the affections, and as no argument can force the heart into an attachment from which it naturally, or perhaps capriciously revolts, and as moreover, the comfort of existence results from the state of the mind far more than from any external circumstances whatever; reason and religion prescribe, that, after due caution and admonition, persons should be permitted to determine ultimately for themselves, without being subjected to the miserable alternative of accepting parental choice or forfeiting parental fondness.

Incongruous connexions may also originate in one or both of the parties having suffered previous disappointment. Young persons under the pang occasioned by the failure of a romantic attachment, foolishly resolve no more to consult affection, or even to allow it any share in the determination of their choice. They imagine it needless any longer to expect happiness, because they cannot possess the individual they supposed alone capable of promoting it, and repair to marriage merely as a refuge from solitude or from reproach. In such cases, they deem it of comparatively trifling consequence with whom they connect themselves, refusing to admit it possible that they should ever more obtain peace of mind.

Nothing, however, can be more delusive than such a feeling. The immaturity of the judgment at the early age of first attachments, renders it probable that they may not, in reality, have made the best selection, and that their preferences were determined rather by casual circumstances and accidental impressions, than any knowledge of character or any perception of solid qualities. If the comfort of life depended upon the success of early predilections, it is probable few would be happy; but Providence has wisely ordered it otherwise, by constituting it independent of arbitrary associations. Let not the young, therefore, precipitate themselves into improper connexions—into connexions not founded on principle, and not cemented by love, through indulging the notion that the gratification of a first romantic attachment is essential to happiness, and that if disappointed, it is of no importance whether they become united to a gentle Isaac or a churlish Nabal; because, in reality, the prize is yet to be won, the jewel is yet attainable, and Providence may have kindly frustrated a present wish, to bestow ultimately a more substantial benefit. "The way of man is not in himself; it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps." Our utmost efforts cannot arrest or accelerate the wheel of destiny, which is turned by a secret and invisible power, that raises or depresses, subserves or frustrates our purposes, irresistibly indeed, but not arbitrarily; making "all things work together for good to them that love God."

The history before us represents David as still a wanderer from wilderness to wilderness, and reduced to great extremity. Hearing of the extraordinary festivities observed upon the occasion of Nabal's shearing his sheep, from which he inferred his opulence, ten messengers were sent to him to solicit, in the most respectful manner, a supply of provisions. It was intimated, that David had not availed himself of the power which the Arab emirs are accustomed to assume, of seizing whatever they need, but on the contrary, had afforded protection, instead of exercising violence. [36]

Nabal not only refused to comply with the request, but returned an insulting answer, which the young men carried to their master. David felt the utmost indignation, and instantly prepared to resent the affront. The persecutions of Saul being no more than he expected, were borne with a fortitude, and requited by a forbearance which cannot but excite our admiration; but the unlooked-for barbarity of Nabal took him by surprise, and threw him into a rage. We cannot justify his hostile preparations, nor look without regret upon his rash proceeding, in taking four hundred of his armed followers to destroy Nabal. How unlike David, the man after God's own heart, who had been so long trained in the school of affliction, and so often manifested a very different spirit! Alas, bow easily are the best of men "led into temptation;" and how necessary is it to exercise vigilance, not only over our "easy besetting sins," but over what we deem the least vulnerable points of our character! Neglecting the requisite precautions, we may be taken even on the strongest side, and at the most unexpected moment.

One of the servants informed Abigail of what had occurred, stating the message of David, and the behaviour of her husband; and, at the same time, representing the civility with which the former had conducted himself towards the shepherds.

A person of less understanding might have said, "Let these rival chiefs settle the matter between themselves; my husband had an undoubted right to do what he pleased with his own, and he has the means of defending himself from a vindictive stranger." But Abigail wisely listened to the information communicated by the servant, and instantly adopted a plan, which seemed indeed the only one calculated to avert the threatened blow. She took two hundred loaves, and two bottles of wine, and five sheep ready dressed, and five measures of parched corn, and a hundred clusters of raisins, and two hundred cakes of figs, which she hastened to present to David.

This was excellent management. Had she repaired to her husband, and endeavoured to pacify his turbulent spirit by remonstrance, reason, or entreaty, the probability is she would have met with a repulse, and disabled herself from any further interference. Had she merely sent the supply with which the asses were laden, the indignant son of Jesse might, very possibly, have returned it as insufficient, or pressed on with his armed men to compel Nabal to make reparation for the affront he had ventured to offer. This skilful negotiator, however, goes herself to settle the contention which had so suddenly arisen; and never, surely, was a better arranged or more successful expedition.

The moment Abigail perceived David, she alighted from her ass, and, falling prostrate at his feet, addressed him in language well calculated to accomplish her wishes. Every thing was in perfect contrast with the behaviour of Nabal—her suppliant posture—the respectful term she chooses, calling him lord—the appropriation of her husband's fault to herself—the apology she offers for him, by representing his conduct as resulting rather from a momentary impulse than any settled malignity, as the general failing of his nature, not the effect of any personal malevolence—the ignorance she professes of the request which David had sent, insinuating that otherwise he would have received a very different return—her apparent assurance of success, delicately intimating the happy circumstance of his being restrained from shedding blood in a momentary fit of passion—her offer of the magnificent present she had prepared—her congratulation upon his achievements—her confident anticipations of his future triumphs, and final establishment in the kingdom—her reference to Providence—her suggestion, that it would hereafter prove a source of satisfaction that he had been prevented from committing an act which, whatever were the provocation, must be painful to recollect, and which must rather afflict his conscience than grace his laurels—all these topics were well introduced, and urged with a tone of eloquence that proved irresistible. David takes the present, thanks Abigail for her interposition, and dismisses her, with the assurance that he had "hearkened to her voice, and accepted her person."

Upon her return she found Nabal in a state of intoxication, totally disregardful of danger, and ignorant of the ruin from which his prudent wife had procured his deliverance. Thus do multitudes sport upon the brink of everlasting destruction, heedless of the justice they have provoked, and solicitous only of consuming those hours, and days, and years, in indulgence, which ought to be devoted to repentance. Let the "lovers of pleasure" reflect on three short maxims, "He that will not fear, shall feel, the wrath of Heaven—He that lives in the kingdom of Sense shall die in the kingdom of Sorrow—He shall never truly enjoy his present hour who never thinks on his last." [37]

Abigail properly resolved to defer any conversation with Nabal till the morning, when she disclosed the whole affair. The surprise was so great that "his heart died within him, and he became as a stone." Ten days afterward he was smitten by the hand of God, and descended without honour into the grave. No one could esteem him while living, and no one regretted him when dead.

The news of this event having been conveyed to David, he expressed his grateful sense of the divine goodness in keeping him from the execution of his rash project, and in thus vindicating his cause by a signal interference. As he had been deeply impressed with the personal charms and good understanding of Abigail, and as no obstacle seemed to exist to prevent their union, he took the first opportunity of proposing to marry her; to which, with becoming expressions of humility and modesty, she consented.

"It was a fair suit," says Bishop Hall, "to change a David for a Nabal; to become David's queen, instead of Nabal's drudge! She, that learned humility under so hard a tutor, abaseth herself no less when David offers to advance her: 'Let thine handmaid be a servant to wash the feet of the servants of my lord.' None are so fit to be great as those that can stoop lowest. How could David be more happy in a wife? He finds at once piety, wisdom, humility, faithfulness, wealth, beauty. How could Abigail be more happy in a husband, than in the prophet, the champion, the anointed of God? Those marriages are well made, wherein virtues are matched and happiness is mutual."



The Queen of Sheba.

Chapter XII.



David's Anxiety for his Son—its happy Issue—Solomon's Prayer, and the Answer of God—Solomon's Riches and Fame—the Queen of Sheba's visit—her Country ascertained—such Solicitude for Wisdom not common—She proves Solomon with hard Questions—her Desire of Knowledge worthy of Imitation—Solomon's Conduct—his Buildings—the Queen's congratulatory Address—Reflections—her Presents to Solomon, and his to the Queen of Sheba—Christ's Application of the Subject.

The pious solicitude of David, the king of Israel, in his last hours, for his son and successor, is thus recorded in the closing chapter of the first book of Chronicles: "Give unto Solomon my son a perfect heart, to keep thy commandments, thy testimonies, and thy statutes." With this prayer he connected suitable and impressive advice, "Thou Solomon my son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart and with a willing mind; for the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off forever."

Parental piety does not always influence, as it ought, those who by their domestic privileges are most favourably situated for witnessing it: to all human appearance, the language of kind remonstrance or entreaty has been often useless, the petitions of fervent desire have failed, and the tears of pure affection have flowed in vain. The present instance, however, furnishes a pleasing exception to this remark; for upon Solomon's accession to the throne, he appointed a solemn festival at Gibeon before the tabernacle of Moses; and during the night, in which the God of Israel desired that he would ask what he should bestow upon him, he presented a petition, no less distinguished by its singularity in such circumstances, than by its excellence and success. "And Solomon said unto God, Thou hast showed great mercy unto David my father, and hast made me to reign in his stead. Now, O Lord God, let thy promise unto David my father, be established; for thou hast made me king over a people like the dust of the earth in multitude. Give me now WISDOM and KNOWLEDGE, that I may go out and come in before this people; for who can judge this thy people that is so great? And God said to Solomon, Because this was in thine heart, and thou hast not asked riches, wealth, or honour, nor the life of thine enemies, neither yet hast asked long life; but hast asked wisdom and knowledge, that thou mayest judge my people over whom I have made thee king; WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE is GRANTED UNTO THEE; and I will give thee RICHES, and WEALTH, and HONOUR, such as none of the kings have had that have been before thee, neither shall there any after thee have the like."

The inspired description of Solomon's magnificence may justly excite astonishment—a magnificence which extended to "all his drinking vessels, which were of gold; and all the vessels of the house of the forest of Lebanon were of pure gold; none were of silver: It was nothing accounted of in the days of Solomon." It is natural to imagine, that the fame of so remarkable a prince, concurring with the comparative ease with which gold and silver were procurable, would contribute to establish that taste for splendour which has ever distinguished the potentates of the East. It is stated by Sir J. Chardin, that the plate of the king of Persia is of pure gold, originally made by Shah Abbas, the most glorious of the princes of the Sefi royal family; who, for this purpose, melted seven thousand two hundred marks, or nearly thirty six thousand English troy ounces of the purest gold. But Solomon, according to the testimony of Scripture, was the most opulent prince that ever sat upon a throne. His annual revenues were six hundred and sixty-six talents of gold, exclusive of the supply he received from the customs and from tributary nations. A talent weighed three thousand shekels, and a shekel two hundred and nineteen grains. The king employed a navy, which, with the assistance of Tyrian vessels and navigators, who were esteemed the most skilful in the world, fetched gold and silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks, from Ophir, by the way of the red sea. This voyage occupied three years.

In comparing the extremes of human society, the riches of a Solomon with the poverty of a Bartimeus, it becomes us to recognize the hand of a mysterious though wise Providence. He who fixed the stars of the firmament in their proper places, determines, independently of all human control, the orders of society and the sphere of the individual; and it is no less consolatory than obvious, that the equitable rule by which a final judgment of our character is to be determined, will measure the extent of our responsibility, by an impartial estimate of our situation, our opportunities, and our respective talents.

Attracted by the celebrity of Solomon, the QUEEN OF SHEBA came to Jerusalem, with a train and presents suited to his dignity and her own. Although the sovereigns of neighbouring nations paid similar visits of ceremony and of curiosity, yet this illustrious woman is particularly noticed in the sacred page, on account perhaps of her sex, her inquisitiveness, the remoteness of her situation, the magnificence of her equipage and offerings; but especially the piety of her views, and the impressive language of her devout admiration.

The date of this interview with the king of Israel may be referred, with sufficient accuracy, to the year of the world three thousand and twelve, or nine hundred and ninety-two before the Christian era. This was subsequent to the completion of the temple and of the royal houses. A variety of opinions have prevailed respecting the kingdom of Sheba; and some have supposed, though without sufficient reason, that this is the name of the queen herself, and not of her country or capital. The probability is, that Sheba, situated in the southern part of Arabia Felix, and on the eastern coast of the Red Sea, is intended. Moses speaks of Sheba, the son Joktan, a descendant of Eber, and more remotely of Shem; and ancient authors represent his descendants, the Sabeans, as peopling this district of Arabia, the metropolis of whose kingdom was denominated Sheba or Saba. It appears from authentic testimony, that they were accustomed to female government; and Bochart proves, by numerous citations, that the kingdom of Sheba was called by the Jews the country of the South, which explains the phraseology of our Lord in the twelfth chapter of Matthew. The geographical accuracy of this statement is further corroborated, by comparing the description which the inspired historian records of the gifts presented by this queen to Solomon, with the language of Pliny and Herodotus: the former of whom says, "that odoriferous woods were in use only in this country, and that the Sabean consumed them in dressing their food;" and the latter, "that the Arabians took a thousand talents of frankincense every year to Darius." We deem it proper to avoid involving ourselves in a labyrinth of geographical difficulties, and have therefore simply stated the result of our inquiries; which however may furnish us with, at least, one serious reflection. How transitory and how contemptible is human glory! It is not peculiar to the poor and the destitute to be forgotten, to have their dwellings and their names perish amidst the desolations of time; such is nearly the fate of one of the most remarkable sovereigns of antiquity, whose visit to the greatest potentate of the eastern world is so celebrated in Scripture. What mean our trifling cares—our incessant solicitude about temporal possessions and worldly distinctions? The house we now inhabit will soon be demolished and swept away by the flood of time—the name by which we are distinguished, and the annals of our short period of temporal existence, will soon be scarcely remembered by our successor—all our glory will be covered with the darkness of death! Shall we not, therefore, aim to secure an incorruptible inheritance in the skies, and an unfading pre-eminence in the records of eternity? "The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance."

The design of the queen of Sheba, in repairing to Jerusalem, was not merely to pay a visit of ceremony. She "heard of his fame concerning the name of the Lord," and "she came to prove him with hard questions." The report, not only of the riches, splendour, and wisdom of Solomon, but also of the miraculous interferences of the God of Israel on behalf of his people, and of his peculiar favour to this monarch, had reached the distant residence of this Arabian queen; and so deep was the interest it excited in her bosom, that she determined to undertake a journey, long and hazardous as it might be, for the sake of investigating these extraordinary facts. It is evident she attached a considerable degree of credibility to the representations she had received; and relying no longer upon subordinate means of information, she resolved upon a course of diligent inquiry. When and where shall we discover a similar zeal to acquire a knowledge of "the glorious Gospel of the blessed God?" How often have Christian ministers occasion to adopt the prophetic strain, "Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?" How often do all the personal excellencies, the moral glories of him who is described as "a greater than Solomon," fail to attract mankind? Satisfied with mere report—few apply to the sacred Scriptures as the immediate and purest means of instruction in "the truth as it is in Jesus," after the long-recorded example of the ancient Bereans, who "received the word (of Paul and Silas) with all readiness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily, whether those things were so."

Bishop Hall very pertinently remarks, "No doubt many, from all coasts, came to learn and wonder, none with so much note as this noble daughter of Cham; who herself deserves the next wonder to him whom she came to hear and admire: that a woman, a princess, a rich and great queen, should travel from the remotest south, from Sheba, a region famous for the greatest delicacies of nature, to learn wisdom, is a matchless example. We know merchants that venture to either Indies for wealth; others we know daily to cross the seas for wanton curiosity; some few philosophers we have known to have gone far for learning; and among princes, it is no unusual thing to send their ambassadors to far distant kingdoms, for transaction of business either of state or commerce: but that a royal lady should in person undertake and overcome so tedious a journey, only to observe and inquire into the mysteries of nature, art, religion, is a thing past both parallel and imitation. Why do we think any labour great, or any way long, to hear a greater than Solomon? How justly shall the queen of the South rise up in judgment, and condemn us, who may hear wisdom crying in our streets, and neglect her?"

Among princely cares, the ardent search of truth can seldom be enumerated, though it be a most honourable and beneficial employment. Those whom Providence has placed in an elevated situation are usually too much occupied with themselves, their pleasures, their pomp, and their ambitious projects, to listen to the dictates, or to search out the mysteries of wisdom. The concerns of an extensive empire furnish a plausible pretext for neglecting the great interest of piety, which a deceived heart is ready to plead in extenuation of a conduct condemned alike by reason, conscience, and revelation. But let the rulers of nations observe David, Solomon, and others of the kings of Israel; the splendour of whose earthly glory was eclipsed by the superior brightness of their heavenly wisdom; and whose names are written upon, the sacred page, not so much, because they were men of rank, as because they were men of God. The command of Jesus Christ is of prime importance and of universal obligation, "Seek FIRST the kingdom of God and his righteousness;" and unless it can be demonstrated that he has made one code of laws for the prince and another for the peasant, or that his precepts possess an accommodating flexibility suited to the prejudices and passions of mankind, no exception can be for a moment admitted. As there is no royal road to the heights of human science, but all who attain them must ascend by assiduous and persevering application, so there is none to the summit of celestial felicity; but persons of every class, rank, sex, and age, must follow Christ in the same unsmoothed path of repentance and self-denial. Hence, such is the bewitching influence of worldly splendour, so numerous and so powerful the attractions of opulence, that we have daily and hourly proofs of the apostle's statement: "Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called; but God hath chosen the weak things of the world, to confound the things which are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are; that no flesh should glory in his presence." But happily the long scroll of history is here and there embellished with a name, which combines the glory that confers pre-eminence in the present world, with the grace that secures everlasting distinction in the next.