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the wrath of the Syrian Laban, he awakes to the consciousness of that old debt of vengeance which Esau had sworn should one day be wiped out in blood.

This brings us to what must be regarded as the great crisis of the patriarch's life, when his faith is to be educated to its highest grasp, when the heel-grasper Jacob is to become Israel the prince, mighty with God to prevail. And, remembering the position occupied by Jacob and his house in the divine economy of grace and redemption, may we not say we are here face to face with one of the greater crises in the history of our race? For, humanly speaking, had Jacob's faith now failed him-if, fearing to meet his brother, he had turned aside from the path God had called him to follow, and sought pasturage for his flocks and a safe retreat for himself and his family in some of the rich plains that lay along his route-Israel would never have passed into Egypt, the law would never have been given on Sinai, and the glory of the Lord would never have appeared in the temple at Jerusalem. We shall perhaps best appreciate the nature and issue of this crisis in Jacob's and Israel's history, if we glance briefly at the three stages in its development that are unmistakably discernible in the narrative we are studying.

The first of these is described in verses 3-8. It marks the period of Jacob's great dread, when he awakes to the consciousness of the magnitude of the approaching danger. His fear overcomes him, and yielding to its impulse, he seeks to extricate himself from danger by means which his terrors suggest. And verily he had cause for dread. No message from his mother had come to say that Esau's wrath had been mitigated by the influence of time. We can imagine how the patriarch's heart must often have yearned, during the long years of his exile, for some token of remembrance, some message of peace, from the home of his childhood. We can picture him to ourselves seated at the door of his tent at eventide, the twilight shadows darkening over the Syrian plain, gazing wistfully in the direction from which he knew such a message must have reached him. But he had watched and waited in vain. None of the herdsmen had been called in haste from the flocks of Isaac, and sent

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forth on the swiftest camel, with a sure token from Rebecca that the way was now open for the wanderer's return to his kindred and home. No dust-stained messenger had entered the Syrian tent to tell him there was peace in Canaan, for that Esau had spoken of his absent brother, and, forgetting his ancient wrongs, had desired to be reconciled with him ere the sun of their father's life should set. On the contrary, all the information he had been able to gather had gone to show a gloomier picture than his worst fears had drawn. In prudent strategy, he had sent out messengers to inquire how the land lay, and bring him word as to his brother's feeling towards him. And very terrible was the report these envoys had brought back to the patriarch: "We came to thy brother Esau, and also he cometh to meet thee, and four hundred men with him." More than a score of years have passed, and even yet the wrath has not died out of the brother's heart. The old wrong is still fresh and rankling in the memory of the wronged one, who is, moreover, now in a position to take ample vengeance. And then, apart from all external grounds for fear, Jacob bore within his own breast a secret monitor whose still small voice kept telling him, in tones he could not choose but hear, that his sin deserved the heaviest stripes that could be laid upon him. There is truth in the poet's philosophy, ""Tis conscience that makes cowards of us all." Man carries about with him, in his own bosom, an agent for judgment and retribution whom he cannot deceive, and from whom escape is impossible. The condemnation of one's own heart is hard to bear. It is not compensated for by heaped-up wealth, by glittering power, by any lapse of years since the dark deed was done.

Sometimes, wandering in the picture-gallery of an old ancestral mansion, the visitor lights upon a portrait whose features are hidden from his scrutiny. It hangs in its place among the others, but its face is turned to the wall, as if its fellows disowned its relationship and shrank from its society. There is a dark tale of crime and dishonour connected with it that, when whispered amid the lengthening shadows of the twilight, still causes the old shame to flush anew over the heart, though generations may have

passed away, and the outside world have long since forgotten the sin. The memory is the picture-gallery of the individual past. In most men's lives there are pictures turned to the wall, whose features they shrink from gazing upondark, secret cupboards that they fear to open and explore. But conscience is an unscrupulous, unrelenting showman, that lays bare before the sinner's gaze his most secret faults. His fellowmen may hold him in high esteem for wealth, for goodness, for piety; but the scarred memory refuses to be healed. In the hour of solitude conscience asserts its power; phantom voices out of the past ring in the sinner's ears the old tale of shame. The sins and faults of youth may have been long since repented of; they may have been long since wrapped in sackcloth, and laid at the feet of the Lord; but still there come those dark hours when in memory we relive the past, when conscience reads to us the story of our lives backwards, and we shrink from the face of our fellows in utter shame.

At such times there is but one path that can lead the distressed heart out of darkness into light, and bring the trembling sinner up from the depths of the guilty past to the clear heights of faith, where the soul can gaze unblinkingly on the face of God. That path leads straight to Calvary. There let him cast himself at the foot of the cross, crying anew with the old earnestness, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" and putting himself, his sin, his fate, in the hands of Jesus. He will accept the trust. He will bury anew the dead past of his life, and make the present and the future luminous in the light of the Father's love.

This seems to have been the experience of Jacob at this first stage in the great crisis of his life; for when we contemplate him entering on the second stage, in the development of our narrative, we find the suppliant before the throne

of grace.

This second period is embraced in verses 9-12. What follows then till the end of verse 22 is mainly intended to illustrate the efficacy of the means to which Jacob turned for help in the hour of his sore distress, and to show the happy results that flowed from his prayer.

| of the patriarch's despair, we note some features
that are common to all believing prayer.
He bases his supplication on promises of God,
expressly given and special to his case. He feels
that in the covenant between Jehovah and
Abraham he has a personal interest. He realizes
that it is a covenant God with whom he has to
do. Here we discover a trait found in all
believing prayer. The Christian approaches
God in the consciousness of the covenant with
Christ. He has a personal interest in all the
promises made by the Father to the Son.

Then again how strongly marked is the feature of confession of unworthiness in the patriarch's approach to God. He has the promise, he knows that God's covenant shall be fulfilled; but at the same time, even when claiming that fulfilment, and basing his claim on God's faithfulness, he is penetrated with a deep sense of his own unworthiness. What is man, that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man, that thou visitest him? I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies. Such is, in every case, the soul-speech of the praying Christian.

But, mingling with his humility, and underlying all his supplication, note how strong a confidence in Jehovah's power and willingness to help pervades his address; and it is a confidence based on and justified by experience. God had blessed and helped him in former trials, therefore now he will not desert him. As he had before helped him out of danger, so now he will be a shield unto him against the vengeance of Esau.

His prayer ended, we have in the following verses the blessed result that flowed from it. The distressed and anxious mind has laid its heavy burden at the feet of God. The heavy heart has sought lightening at the throne of grace, and the Lord has heard the wail of his servant. He has poured balm into the wounded spirit. Peace of mind and assurance of the love and protection of Jehovah, a disposition to be still and wait upon God's doing, this is the form of the answer given to his prayer. And in his whole demeanour, on emerging from that intercourse with God, we can trace the results of his confidence. It is no longer an escape from Esau's vengeance that occupies his thoughts and

In this earnest cry to God for help in the hour directs his efforts. On the contrary, he is now

mainly concerned how to effect a reconciliation with the brother he had wronged. His plans of strategy are abandoned. A new arrangement is made of his flocks and progress. The valuable presents sent on in advance are not bribes to purchase safety, but are intended as restoration, so far as lies in his power, of what he had once unjustly acquired by robbing his brother of the birthright of the first place in the tent of their father; for the spiritual meaning of the promise had not yet become clear to the patriarchal consciousness; and in the minds even of Abraham and Isaac the idea of the birthright was always connected with the possession of the external. blessing that marked it. Jacob was now to pass from the sign to the thing signified. He was to attain to a higher platform of faith and discernment of the divine purpose. As a necessary step in his training for this higher revelation, he now voluntarily restores what he formerly laboured to acquire the wealth that was the outward sensible sign of the inner and spiritual birthright.

not abandoned the promise and voluntarily cut himself loose from the covenant? The terrible thought-if we may use the phrase—that he has committed spiritual suicide, like Esau, who for the mess of pottage bartered the birthright, overwhelms him with despair, drives him to solitude, prompts anew strong yearning cries to Heaven for light and peace. In one word, the dread that in secking to propitiate his brother by restoring the outward birthright he has despised the spiritual blessing, and cut himself loose from Jehovah's favour-this terrible fear is the cause of the struggle. It is, as we have already remarked, the crisis of his history. What passes in his soul during this eventful night is typical of a future crisis in the history of his seed, when the Lord appeared in Shiloh, and the earthly theocratic kingdom became merged in one that is not of this world, but spiritual and eternal. eternal. For Abraham, it was enough to distinguish in his faith between the present and the future; Isaac had to learn the distinction between waiting and ruling; Jacob shall now learn to distinguish between the external attribute and the internal essential possession of the birthright and the blessing. Thus he is to rise to a higher platform of faith than either of his predecessors had attained. But in proportion to the heights he is to attain is the struggle that shall land him on the eminence. Like Abraham, he must be ready to sacrifice all, in order to gain all by a new and stronger title. His sacrifice must be made, for it is the pledge of his repentance; but the blessing must be assured to him, for it is the In the first place, the cause of the wrestling pledge of his faith. Thus he is driven to a must undoubtedly be sought in the subjectivity wrestling with Jehovah in prayer such as he of Jacob himself. There can be no question but has hitherto never experienced. The intensity of that he entered on the fearful night-conflict, that the inward struggle increases till it assumes outlasted till daybreak, on account of a great over- ward shape and subsistence. Weird, unearthly mastering fear that had taken possession of his forms surround him, fiendish shapes mock and gibe mind; not, however, the old dread of Esau's him in his agony; but at length help is given vengeance-that had been dispelled and dissi-him from above: there comes and wrestles with

We now approach the last stage in the development of Jacob the heel-grasper into the prince mighty to prevail with God. It is presented to us in the record of the mysterious night-struggle. This is the decisive moment in the history. Let us therefore examine it with somewhat closer attention than we have bestowed on the earlier parts of the narrative. Four points fall to be considered in order to gain a clear and vivid conception as to the nature of the struggle and the issue involved in it.

pated for ever by his prayer and its answer; but in making restitution to his brother, the idea suggests itself "Must not the surrender of the external sign of the blessing involve also the loss of the internal spiritual birthright?" Has he not acted too hastily in his efforts for reconciliation? In making the formal restitution, has he

him a man.

This brings us to the second point that falls to be examined-namely, the form of the struggle, or the elements engaged in it.

As to its form, it cannot on the one hand have taken place in a dream or vision of the night; nor, on the other, can it have been a physical

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struggle, as between two human combatants: | despairing Jacob in order to drive him to a full ethical conflicts and decisions are rarely the surrender of himself to the love and power of results of dreams or visions. A physical contest God. is incompatible with Jacob's weeping and prayers.*

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There is, however, a marked difference between the other Old Testament appearances and this in the case of Jacob. In no other instance is the humanity so emphasized, or the incarnation so clearly typified. This is sufficiently accounted for when we remember the peculiar circumstances of Jacob's case.

Let us try to realize the matter in this way. Jacob's struggle is at the outset subjective,-a war with the doubts and fears that have arisen in his own breast. It grows in intensity till his whole being-that is, his former self-is up in arms against the faith that would abandon the sensible and cling only to the spiritual. Still more carnest and real does it become until the angel of the Lord comes to his aid. It is humanity's blindness and weakness of faith that have caused the conflict. Therefore the heavenly visitant takes the form of man. The Incarnate One himself comes before his time to educate his own progenitor into Israel, mighty with God to prevail. In one word, Jacob's own doubts and fears drove him to prayer, his prayer intensifies itself into a vision, Jehovah appears in the character of his angel, and the angel of the Lord anticipates his own future incarnation, and takes for the moment the form of man, identifies himself with weak humanity, and wrestles with the

Is not this the meaning of the twenty-fifth verse: "When he saw that he prevailed not, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint as he wrestled with him"? In other words, the typical Incarnate One had to show the patriarch his utter helplessness in his own strength before he was conquered into full submission. He took away from him the very ground he stood on, weakened the foundation on which his whole strength rested. Then only was his task done. Only then could he say, "Let me go, for the day breaketh." Thou seest now that without me thou canst do nothing, but that to faith in me nothing is impossible. The light streamed into the patriarch's soul; and, recognizing his own weakness and God's almighty strength, he prays for yet a further blessing that shall be a crown and seal to the now triumphant faith: "I will not let thee go unless thou bless me."

The intensity of the struggle has already been sufficiently indicated in what has been advanced regarding its elements. We therefore pass on to the fourth and final point-namely, the fruits of the victory.

Of these we have a twofold description in our narrative: one from the divine, and the other from the human, stand-point.

From the divine point of view the fruits of victory are thus characterized: "Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel; for as a prince hast thou power with God and men, and hast prevailed." His faith has risen to its highest level. It has raised him to the dignity of royalty. It has made him a prince with God and men. And with the change of name there has come a change of his entire nature. Throughout his whole after-history we find no more the old deceitful, treacherous, heel-grasping Jacob nature. But in its stead there rises up before us the noble picture of a kingly man, a real patriarch, able to inspire kings and princes with

*Hosea xii. 4, 5-where, however, our English version hardly respect for his simple dignity, and to bring them conveys the right sense. Bunsen's rendering is preferable :

Verse 4. Im Mutterleibe hielt er seinen Bruder au der Ferse: und in seiner Mauneskraft kämpfte er mit Gott.

Verse 5. Er rang mit dem Engel und siegte, ob er weinte und flehte zu ihm.

to seek his alliance and blessing. Look upon the picture of his old age, and then upon that of his youth the hoary-headed patriarch blessing

Pharaoh, and taking leave of his family, waiting | identifying himself with human weakness and for the salvation of the Lord; and then remem- human woe, raising the sinking human heart ber how in his youth he appeared with a lie in above its sins and sorrows, and inspiring it with his right hand before his blind and aged father, fresh courage to lift up its eyes to the everand plotted and sinned to accomplish his ends. lasting hills whence come mercy, and peace, and Verily, we must exclaim, great is the victory of joy. This is true salvation, when the penitent grace-marvellous the power of faith that has heart is enabled to rise above the miserable contransformed Jacob into Israel the prince! templation of its own weakness and guilt, and to look on the face of God in the person of Christ. That man hath perfect blessedness who has looked away from himself, and beheld by the eye of faith the face of God in the man Jesus.

Easier, perhaps, to our conception of the wondrous victory, is Jacob's own description of it from the human stand-point: "I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved."

I have seen God! In the misery of the dark hour of his soul's agony thick clouds had risen up and obscured the face of Jehovah. But when his need was sorest, there appeared One to help him whom after-ages have learned to praise as the Son of Man. Jehovah revealed himself, not as the inscrutable awful Being who taketh vengeance on the sins of men, but in man's own guise, taking humanity's form, sympathizing and

And my life is preserved—that is, by beholding the face of God my soul has recovered its health, its peace, its elasticity. It was sick unto death; heart and flesh were failing; but when the cry for mercy went up to the living God, he revealed himself, and death fled at his approach. Light and gladness dispelled gloom and woe. I have seen God face to face, and my soul has recovered from its death-faint, my life is preserved.

GEORGE BOWEN, AMERICAN MISSIONARY IN BOMBAY.* ERE is a missionary, still surviving and working, of the same type as the late William Burns of China. He bas laboured twenty-five years in the same sphere, beloved and revered by all classes and all sects. He is not in connection with any society, but is in sympathy and co-operation with all Christians. He employs the preaching and the press as conspiring forces to advance the kingdom of Christ. In his newspaper, the Bombay Guardian, he has long been in the habit of giving religious meditations from week to week. This volume consists of a selection of these papers. As might be expected from their natural history, they are tender and fresh and high-toned.

We give from Dr. Hanna's preface some portions of Mr. Bowen's own account of the circumstances attending his conversion :

"There was a young man, very fond of reading, who, at the age of seventeen, was led to doubt the truth of Christianity by that chapter of Gibbon in which he attempts to account for the spread of the Christian religion in the world. He was acquainted with several modern languages, and read in these the principal works in which Christianity is assailed,-Volney, Voltaire,

* From "Daily Meditations." By the Rev. George Bowen of Bombay. With Introductory Notice by the Rev. W. Hanna, D.D., author of "The Last Day of Our Lord's Passion." Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas.

Diderot, and a number of others. He soon persuaded himself that Christianity was not a revelation from God, that there was no revelation, that there might be a God, and probably was, but there was no life to come, and there could not be a more futile employment than prayer. His mind, once made up on the subject, remained absolutely unshaken and unwavering in unbelief for eleven years. He occupied himself with literature all these years, and naturally read a great deal that tallied with his views. Whatever did not, made no impression upon him, and he only wondered how people could be so simple as to believe things so preposterous and baseless. With a single exception, no one ever addressed him on the subject of personal religion; it being thought by those that knew him that the fixity of his views was such as to make the task hopeless. To a friend that once addressed him on the subject of religion, he replied by a letter, the character of which may be gathered from the quotation which he placed at the head of it: 'Think'st thou, because thou art virtuous, that there shall be no more cakes and ale? Ay, by St. Anthony; and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.' At a later period Strauss came in his way, and what surprised him was that the German should take such prodigious pains to disprove that, the falsity of which lay, as it seemed to him, on the very surface......

"After eleven years of profoundest infidelity, he had his attention drawn to the career of the apostles, and to

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